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criminalmindzjunkie · 3 years

Text

Avoidance

masterlist

part two

Summary: Reader doesn’t know what she did to make Spencer hate her so much.

A/N: This fic is just a reminder that sub!Spencer lives rent free in my head at all times. Also, if anyone would like to be on a taglist for one shots like these, let me know! I’m going to work on getting one started.

Pairing: sub!Spencer/femdom! reader

Content Warnings: honestly way too much swearing, sexual harassment, slapping, hands free orgasm, oral sex (male and female receiving), hand job, orgasm denial, edging, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, degradation, femdom

Word Count: 8.2k

I have absolutely no idea what I’ve done to make Spencer Reid hate me.

Usually, when someone despises a person to the point of complete and total avoidance, there’s a reason. No one just wakes up and decides to resent another person for the hell of it – right? Wrong.

Because Spencer Reid positively loathes me – and I have no idea why.

It all started on my first day at the BAU. I had somehow landed the highly coveted job of media liaison after the previous one had decided to complete the training to be a profiler. For reasons unbeknownst to me, they thought a twenty-four-year-old fresh out of college with no prior job experience was the best fit for the position. I didn’t understand it, but I also wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

To say that I had been terrified the first time I set foot into the bullpen would be the understatement of the century. After a very formal and very intimidating orientation with the unit chief, my predecessor, a beautiful blonde named Jennifer, offered herself up to be my personal tour guide. Jennifer introduced me to the other members of the team, and with every smiling face I came in contact with, my fears of being the odd man out were assuaged. I could tell that Penelope Garcia, tech analyst extraordinaire, would most likely be my biggest ally – and it was abundantly clear that Derek Morgan and I would probably get into a fair amount of mischief together. Elle Greenaway seemed like the obvious choice for a future drinking buddy, and Jason Gideon – well, he merely grunted at me in acknowledgment before retreating back to his office. I figured three out of four wasn’t so bad.

I didn’t meet Doctor Spencer Reid until after lunch. Jennifer mentioned something about him guest lecturing at a local university, which surprised me considering she mentioned him being a year younger than me. Apparently, the kid was an actual genius, which was more than a little bit intimidating, but Jennifer assured me that Spencer was a sweetheart.

“He’s a little quirky, but I’m sure you’ll love him. Just don’t be surprised if he tries to talk your ear off,” Jennifer laughs. “Last week I asked him about the weather and he went off on a tangent about climate change that lasted nearly an hour.”

By the time Spencer strolled into the bullpen at exactly one in the evening, I was sitting perched atop Jennifer’s desk, thoroughly engrossed as she told me about their latest case. When she stops talking midsentence in favor of smiling at someone behind me, I half expect that Morgan is attempting to sneak up on me, when:

“Hey, look who’s back,” Jennifer greets, prompting me to turn around excitedly. I was eager to put a face to the man I’d heard so much about.

And when I turn, my eyes land on the prettiest man I’ve ever seen.

Sharp cheekbones and a chiseled jawline are framed by shaggy brown hair, complete with beautiful brown eyes and soft, pillowy lips. As if his good looks weren’t enough, he’s dressed in the most adorably nerdy sweater vest and a pair of thin framed glasses. He’s absolutely precious – a fact that Jennifer had conveniently left out.

“How was the lecture?” Jennifer asks him as he places his satchel on the desk adjacent to hers. Spencer perks up at this, smiling excitedly from across the divider.

“I think it went really good, actually. I incorporated this really cool joke that I heard about quantum physics. Do you want to-”

He stops abruptly when he realizes Jennifer isn’t his only spectator, and those lovely brown eyes go almost comically wide when they settle on me.

“Spencer, this is Y/N Y/L/N. She’s the new media liaison. Y/N, this is Doctor Spencer Reid.”

I give him my best smile, tacking on a small wave for good measure.

“It’s nice to meet you, Doctor Reid. Jennifer’s told me a lot about you.”

“Uh, y-yeah. It’s n-nice to meet you, too,” Spencer stutters. He looks positively stricken and I’m fairly sure he hasn’t blinked in over a minute. I cast a glance at Jennifer, who seems just as confused as I am.

Well, she had mentioned that he was a tad strange.

“I’d like to hear the joke,” I offer, only to immediately regret it when I see him tense up.

“N-No, that’s o-okay,” he chokes out as he struggles to gather the files on his desk. “It’s n-not that good, anyways.”

And just as quickly as he came, Spencer leaves in a flurry of crumpled papers, leaving Jennifer and I wondering what the fuck just happened.

Things didn’t get better with time. In fact, they got much worse.

In the six months that I had been working for the BAU, I could count my interactions with Spencer Reid on one hand. It wasn’t for lack of trying on my part – in my desperation to figure out what I’d done to make him avoid me, I sought out the young genius every chance I got. But every time I got within ten feet of him, it’s like an alarm would sound in his head and he’d make up some excuse to leave the room.

The others had noticed his strange behavior, too. It seemed they all had made a sort of game out of it – calling Spencer into rooms that I was in just to see him panic, or asking me to personally deliver files to his desk. At first, I played into it, hoping that their teasing would help to diffuse some of the tension.

After a month of being on the receiving end of Spencer’s cold shoulder, I started avoiding him, too.

I tried to act indifferent – like it didn’t hurt me as badly as it did. I no longer sought him out, and by month two, we had a sort of understanding. I didn’t go near him, and he didn’t go near me, and that’s how it went on for four miserable months.

Until today.

“Reid, Y/L/N, you’re in 202.”

I damn near drop my bag on the floor. This was bound to happen at some point or another, but I hadn’t planned on that day being today, and I was not prepared. After nine hours of running around the local police department, my body was weighed down from fatigue and I was downright grumpy. Not to mention I had picked the worst possible day to try and break in a new pair of heels, and my feet were throbbing.

Needless to say, I was in no mood to deal with Spencer Reid’s bullshit.

“Uh, Hotch? Could I maybe room with Elle?” I ask, sending a glare in Morgan’s direction when he snorts out a laugh. Hotch raises an eyebrow at me.

“Why? Is there a problem?”

Yes, sir, there certainly is. And your guess is as good as mine as to what that problem is.

“No, but I just think that-”

“Good. Then you should be fine to share a room with him.”

Right.

I spare a brief glance at Spencer, who, in the last thirty seconds, has turned the color of a tomato. I pray that he’ll speak up and voice his discomfort, but just like always, he stays silent.

Hotch doles out the room keys and I begin the trek down the hallway, my poor aching feet groaning in protest with every step. I’m vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps behind me, and it’s not until I swipe the key into the key card that Spencer speaks.

But not to me – no, never to me.

“Derek, please, I’m begging you. Just switch with me this one time, and – and I’ll do your reports for a month!”

After six months of dealing with Spencer’s aversion to me, his words should come as no surprise. And really, I’d expected as much - but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

“Not happening, kid. This is the perfect opportunity for you to get over whatever problem you have with Y/N. I bet you’ll even end up liking her. She’s not going to be rude to you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“… T-That’s not what I’m worried abo-”

I don’t wait around to hear the rest of his sentence. I push open the door to the room, not bothering to wait for Spencer before closing it. I kick off my heels as soon as the door clicks shut, letting out a half relieved, half frustrated groan.

After claiming the bed nearest the air conditioner as my own, I pluck my pajamas and toiletry bag out from my suitcase and shuffle over to the bathroom. The way I see it, the quicker I get a shower and can go to sleep, the faster the night will pass. Before I know it, this unfortunate situation will be a thing of the past.

After drawing out the shower for as long as I possibly could, I exit the bathroom clad in a tank top and a pair of shorts, hair dripping wet and skin freshly scrubbed clean. Spencer’s sitting on his bed, book in hand and tie loosened. He doesn’t look up at me when I walk by - not that I’d expected him to. A thick silence hangs in the air as I pull a bottle of lotion out from my suitcase, and I debate turning on the TV just to make things slightly less awkward. In the end I decide against it, because I doubt even that could make this situation better.

I prop a leg up on the bed and begin to lather my legs in cherry scented lotion, paying special care to my aching feet before moving on. It’s not until both of my legs have been thoroughly massaged and coated in lotion that I look up.

Spencer’s eyes are locked on me, mouth hanging open and chest heaving up and down. His knuckles are white from how hard they’re clutching the book in his hands, but despite that I can still see the way they’re trembling. When he realizes I've caught him staring, he closes his mouth and gulps hard.

I straighten up and raise an eyebrow in a silent question, and that’s enough for Spencer to snap his book shut and scramble off of the bed. He’s clumsy as he moves to his suitcase, dropping his bottle of travel shampoo twice before he reaches the bathroom. If I wasn’t so off put by whatever the hell had just happened, I might have thought it cute.

As if the universe thought my current predicament wasn’t enough to deal with, the next morning I was dealt another shitty hand. This time, my distress came in the form of a young cop who couldn’t pick up on social cues to save his life. After an entire morning of dodging sleazy advances, I finally managed to shake him when his superior sent him out to go and actually do his fucking job.

Or so I thought.

I’m standing in the breakroom, pouring my fourth (or is it my fifth?) cup of coffee when I hear the sound of footsteps in the hall. I don’t know if I’ve developed a sixth sense about these things, or if I’m just particularly on edge today, but I know it’s the young officer before he can even cross the threshold.

And when he does, and he sees that he has me cornered, a saccharine smile stretches across his lips.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he drawls in an accent that could probably be attractive if he wasn’t so damn skeevy.

“Might wanna get your eyes checked,” I mutter, refusing to look in his direction as I stir my coffee.

“Pretty and feisty. Just how I like my women.”

“I am not your anything,” I seethe, and instead of backing off like any respectful human being would, he just chuckles and begins to saunter towards me.

“C’mon baby, you don’t have to be that way. You don’t have to act all professional with me.”

“Don’t call me that.” I look at him now, and the smug, self-righteous smile on his face makes my blood boil.

“You don’t like baby? That’s fine – I’m sure I can think of lots of other things to call you,” he murmurs. He’s closer now, so close that I can practically feel his breath against my neck.

“I’m going to tell you to stop one more time, and it would be in your best interest to listen,” I growl.

“Or what?” he taunts. “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

I jolt forward when a hand comes down hard on my ass, squeezing me harshly through the material of my skirt.

Oh, fuck no.

I’m whirling around faster than I ever thought possible, and then a harsh crack sounds throughout the room as my hand comes in contact with his face.

My hand stings from the contact, but the pain is welcome because he flies backwards, stumbling and grasping as his already reddening cheek.

“What the fuck?” he roars, eyes flashing with unbridled fury. I take several steps towards him, and to my utmost delight he nearly trips over himself in his hurry to put distance between us. I stop when his back hits the wall and I lean in until our faces are only inches apart.

“Listen here, you limp dick fuck,” I snarl. “I’m getting real sick and fucking tired of pathetic pieces of shit like you thinking they can put their hands on women. What’s your problem? Are you so fucking tactless that you can’t get anyone to fuck you?” I punctuate my question by jabbing my pointer finger into his chest and cocking my head to the side. “Are you so unappealing that the only way you can get your hands on a woman is to wait until she’s alone and try to corner her?

Or is it a power thing? You’ve got the gun and the badge so you think you’re entitled to just take what you want, don’t you? You think no one can stop you because you’re in a position of power. Well, I have some news for you – I outrank you, and you just assaulted a federal agent. I will not stop until I ruin your fucking career, and if you even think of trying to lie your way out of this, I’ll do a helluva lot fucking worse. After the week I’m having, I am just looking for an excuse to kick your fucking dick into the dirt. Do you understand?”

By the time I finish speaking, my chest is heaving up and down and my eyes are narrowed into slits. The officer is so angry that he’s shaking, hands balled up to fists at his sides. For a moment, I think he’ll try to hit me, but then his hard-exterior cracks and the anger gives way to fear.

“You – You can’t tell anyone about this,” he says, trying his best to sound menacing. But his voice wavers, and I can tell he’s losing his grip. “It’ll r-ruin my career.”

I raise my hand up to his cheek, placing my palm over the red imprint I had left on his skin. And then I flash him the sweetest goddamn smile that ever there was.

“I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

I give him a pat on the cheek before turning around and heading for the door, only to stop halfway when I see that I have an audience of one.

Spencer stands in the doorway, a coffee mug gripped tightly in one hand, mouth agape and eyes wide. He’s standing stock still, eyes darting in between the police officer and me. I let out an exasperated sigh because of-fucking-course it would be Spencer that would happen to walk in on whatever that just was.

“Close your mouth, Reid. That’s how you catch flies,” I deadpan, prompting Spencer to snap his mouth shut.

Without another word, I brush past him and leave the break room.

I suppose the universe had decided to finally give me a break, because that afternoon we were able to apprehend the unsub. But my good fortune only went so far, because Hotch announced that we would be leaving first thing in the morning – which meant another night alone with Spencer Reid.

He didn’t mention what he walked in on when the two of us arrived back at our room, and I didn’t expect him to. The two of us went about the motions of unwinding from the day in complete and utter silence, and by the time I emerge from the shower I decide that I’ve had enough.

“I’m gonna go stay with Elle and Derek,” I murmur as I zip up my suitcase and slip on my shoes.

“Oh. O-Okay.”

And that was that.

It’s about an hour later when my phone is on four percent that I realize I hadn’t remembered to bring my charger with me. I contemplate just letting it die, but the idea of sitting through a seven-hour jet ride tomorrow without it sounds excruciating. Then again, so does the idea of having to suffer through an interaction with Spencer.

The phone wins out in the end, and with Derek and Elle still snoring softly in their respective beds, I slip out of the room and into the hallway. With any luck, Spencer will be in a similar state and I’ll be able to sneak in and out without him waking up.

I think thank my lucky stars when I slowly crack open the door to Spencer’s room and see that the lights are off. I take special care to close the door as quietly as possible before tiptoeing across the carpeted floors, feeling my way around in the dark so that I don’t trip over anything.

I make it halfway across the room when I hear it – it’s quiet, and if the air conditioner had been on, I wouldn’t have even heard it at all. It’s faint, so faint that I wonder if I’d imagined it, but then that same sound breaks through the silence and I know it’s not a product of my imagination.

I hear the covers rustle, and then a low moan followed by the distinct sound of skin on skin. My blood runs cold as the moans grow louder and more frequent, rolling off Spencer’s lips in rapid succession. There’s heavy breathing and whimpering and holy fuck I just walked in on Spencer Reid masturbating.

Spencer cries out a particularly load moan, one that sounds so pornographic that it shoots straight to my core. It’s sexy and dirty and he sounds absolutely wrecked, and the part of my brain that is still capable of logical thinking is screaming get out! Get out, now!

I begin to slowly backtrack, moving at one tenth of the speed that I had coming in because the possibility of being caught is absolutely not an option. If Spencer hates me now, he’d really hate me if he found out I snuck into his room at night and heard… that.

I’m about five feet away from the door when:

“O-Oh my God, yes! Y/N, please - fuck!”

I think then that I certainly have to be dreaming, because there’s no way I’d just heard him correctly. There’s no way that Spencer – the same Spencer that scurried out of the room when I walked in – was moaning my name while he touched himself. Absolutely not.

But then it happens again and again and again – my name falling from his lips incessantly like some kind of debauched chant.

It feels like my skin is on fire – my mind a befuddled mess – and before my brain can tell me what a terrible idea it is, my feet are carrying me back into the room and I’m coming to a stop at the foot of Spencer’s bed.

Bathed in the glow of the moonlight shining through the window, Spencer looks ethereal. There’s a thin line of sweat beading on his forehead, and his usually meticulously slicked back hair is fanned out on the pillow like some sort of halo. His teeth are nestled into his bottom lip now, and all that can be heard are tiny whimpers as his hand slides up and down underneath the bed sheets. Spencer’s always beautiful, almost painfully so. But the way he looks now, shadows dancing across his face as he works himself to orgasm, is infinitely more breathtaking than words can express.

It doesn’t take long for Spencer to release his lip from beneath his teeth, and when he does my name is flying out of his mouth once more.

I take that as my invitation to speak.

“I don’t think I’ve heard you say my name before.”

Spencer’s entire body stills and his eyes fly open to reveal two dark pools full of sheer panic.

“I-I can explain,” he stammers, moving to clutch the comforter to his chest in an attempt to cover himself.

I let out a hum and sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Please do. I’m very interested in hearing about just what you were picturing me doing.”

Spencer sucks in a harsh breath. I can practically see the wheels in his brain turning -desperately trying to concoct some kind of reasonable explanation.

“I-I… I don’t… I’m s-sorry,” he stutters, and it’s so adorable how he’s squirming underneath my gaze that I decide to help him out.

“Was I sucking you off? Or were you fucking me?” I wonder aloud. He tries to hide it, thinking the covers will mask the way that his hips buck up, but I definitely see it.

“I-I…”

“Which was it, Spencer? Was I taking you down my throat or were you fucking my pussy? Or maybe I was coming undone on your face – was that it?”

Spencer lets out a low groan, and if my patience hadn’t been running so fucking thin, I probably would’ve left it at that. But after the hell he’d put me through for the last six months, I feel like he deserved to squirm a little.

“Fucking answer me.”

“Y-You were, um… r-riding me. And you s-slapped m-me.”

Oh.

This just got a lot more interesting.

I raise an eyebrow at him and I can see the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he gulps.

“So, you liked what you saw today, did you?”

Spencer nods so fervently that I have to bite down on my tongue to suppress a laugh.

“Words, baby. Use them.”

“I-I liked it. A lot.”

“Apparently so, seeing as you were moaning for it like a desperate little slut,” I breeze, my tone cool and indifferent. “Have you done this before, Doctor? Touched yourself to the thought of me, that is.”

“… Y-Yes. I’m s-sorry. I didn’t m-mean to. It just kind of happened one night, and once I started, I couldn’t s-stop.”

I reach out a hand and brush away the hair that had fallen into his face, tucking it back behind his ear before continuing.

“Why the cold shoulder, then? And here I thought you hated me,” I muse, before pausing and cocking my head to the side. “Do you hate me, Doctor?” I ask, and just when I thought he couldn’t look more guilty, he proves me wrong.

“No! I just… couldn’t be around you. I felt so b-bad. You were so nice, and I was using you to g-get off,” Spencer explains. “I couldn’t look you in the eye. Not after picturing you… like that.”

I let out a sigh. Knowing that Spencer didn’t actually hate me for the last six months was a relief. Knowing that Spencer was secretly rubbing one out to me was something else entirely. Whatever was I to do with this information?

“So, you want to fuck me, then?” I reiterate. “Why not tell me this sooner?”

“The probability of you responding positively to me telling you that I, uh, m-masturbate to you was very l-low. And after what I saw today, I think I was wise for keeping that from you,” Spencer says, the last part coming out in a rush. I can’t help but let out a low laugh.

“Yes, but the guy that was coming on to me today wasn’t someone I find attractive. He was pompous and crass and pushy - and you, Doctor Reid, are none of those things.”

“R-Really? You think I’m attractive?”

I hum.

“Very much so, Doctor. But I’m afraid you may have waited too long, and now I don’t feel as inclined to be nice,” I murmur, allowing my hand to trail down from his shoulder to his collar bones before lightly grazing his nipple with my thumb.

“O-Oh my… God,” Spencer whimpers, eyes fluttering shut as my fingers continue to dance across his skin.

“But then again, I don’t think you really want me to be nice to you. I think you want me to treat you like my little play thing.” I stop my hand just below his navel and I thumb across the light layer of hair that makes up his happy trail. “You want to be my dirty boy - don’t you, Doctor Reid?”

“P-Please,” Spencer chokes out, hips jerking up when I allow my thumb to graze a little lower.

“Please what?”

Spencer lets out a frustrated groan.

“Please, I-I want you to u-use me. However you want, just as l-long as you just do-don’t stop touching me,” he rambles. He’s shuddering underneath me, his breaths coming out in harsh pants as my hand wanders lower and lower until I abruptly pull away. “W-Why did you stop?”

“Because I don’t think you deserve to be touched just yet. You’ve got six months to make up to me, after all. I think I want you on your knees for me first,” I say, and from the way his eyes seem to dilate even further, I don’t think he has any objections. “Are you familiar with the color system?”

Spencer nods.

“Green for good, yellow means slow down, and red means stop now.”

“Do you have a safe word?”

“I… I’ve never really, uh. Done t-this.”

Oh. Oh.

I withdraw my hand from its place on his leg and Spencer lets out a distressed whine. “No, please! Don’t go. I’m not a complete virgin, I promise. I got a h-hand job once,” he argues. “And I think I’ve done enough, uh, research, and I really want to try to make you cum. I want to be good for you. Please let me try.”

Spencer looks like he’s about two seconds away from crying, and I can feel my argument dying before it even leaves my mouth.

“Oh, baby, I know you’d be so good,” I coo, and just like that Spencer’s leaning towards me, desperate to have the contact. I indulge him, placing my hand on his cheek, and he relaxes into the touch. “Are you sure you want to do this with me? I’m not what anyone would call vanilla, and I don’t think you know what you’re getting into.”

“I trust you. I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else,” Spencer whispers, and he sounds so damn sincere that I feel my resolve crumbling.

“You’ll let me know if at any point you want to stop?”

“Yes. Absolutely!”

Enthusiastic little shit.

“Safe word?”

“Um… Tolstoy?”

I let out a snort.

“Alright, smarty pants. We’re going to start now, okay?”

“Yes, Miss,” Spencer pants out.

Fuck me running. He clearly has been doing his research.

“Get on your knees for me, baby. I wanna see just how eager to please you are,” I instruct as I stand up and shimmy out of my shorts. I discard my shirt, too, absentmindedly throwing it somewhere across the room. Spencer lets out a startled squeak when he sees that I’m now completely naked, aside from my underwear.

“Y-You’re so pretty,” Spencer breathes out. “Even better than I imagined.”

The sentiment tugs at my heart, really, it does, but I specifically requested that he get on his knees and he seems a lot more content to just sit and stare.

“On your knees,” I command, and Spencer jumps up almost comically fast.

“S-Sorry, Miss,” he apologizes as he lowers himself down. I seat myself on the edge of the bed and spread my legs for him.

“Don’t apologize, just do as I ask of you, okay baby?”

Spencer nods.

“C-Can I kiss you? Like on the lips first?” Spencer asks as he looks up at me with big doe eyes. It’s a beautiful thing, the image of Spencer Reid sitting in between my legs, cheeks flushed and chest rapidly rising and falling. I give Spencer a sweet smile and lean forward, and the excitement radiating off of him is practically palpable. He leans forward, too eager to wait for me to close the gap, and the action makes my chest swell in adoration.

Just as our lips are about to meet, I pause, and Spencer barely has the time to look confused before my palm connects with the side of his face. The moan it draws out of him is obscene and his hips jolt forward, desperate for some kind of friction. His dick rests painfully hard between his legs, flushed red with precum beading at the tip.

I waste no time in taking his chin in my hand and tilting his head upwards.

“Did I say you could kiss me?” I ask him, voice sugary sweet, contrasting starkly with my actions.

“N-No, Miss. I’m sorry,” Spencer pants out. His hand twitches at his side and I can see how desperately he wants to touch himself, but his desire to please keeps him still.

“Then the answer is no. Maybe if you can prove to me that you aren’t completely incompetent at eating pussy, I’ll consider it,” I allow a moment for my words to sink in. “Color?”

“Green. So fucking green,” Spencer whines.

“Good boy,” I praise him, and the effects of my words are instantaneous. Spencer rests his cheek against the skin of my thigh and then he’s nuzzling his face against me in a silent plea for permission. After a moment, his pleas become a lot less silent.

“Wanna be your good boy - please let me,” Spencer begs as his nose brushes against my skin. “I want to make you feel good. S’all I ever think about, since the first time I saw you.”

His words send a jolt of pleasure to my core and I reward his brazen honesty with a tender smile and a nod.

“Go ahead, baby. Let me see what that pretty mouth of yours can do.”

The words barely have time to leave my mouth before Spencer is reaching out and hooking a finger underneath the waistband of my panties. I raise up off the bed just enough for him to slide them down my legs, and before I even manage to settle back down onto the bed, Spencer literally dives in. He starts with one long lick, and by the time he reaches my clit he’s crying out lewd moans against me. The feel of the vibrations mixed with the feel of his mouth on me is maddening in the best possible way, and my eyelids threaten to flutter closed under the weight of my pleasure.

“Fuck, baby – you’re doing so good,” I sigh as I lift my hand up and card my fingers through his hair. “You look so pretty on your knees for me.”

Spencer’s movements stutter when he feels my hand tangle itself into his hair, and I let out a light chuckle. I grab hold of the roots and give an experimental tug. My actions cause his hips to jolt forward violently.

“O-Oh my…” Spencer keens, raising his glossy, lust filled eyes to mine. “H-Harder, please.”

I oblige, and Spencer lets out a particularly filthy groan before lapping at my pussy like a man possessed. His hands come to wrap around my thighs and he pulls me closer to him, causing me to let out a gasp when his nose nudges against my clit. The sound only spurs him on further – Spencer begins assaulting my clit, alternating between short, kitten licks and light sucking. The control I had so adamantly been asserting over him began to slip from my fingertips the longer he worked his mouth against me, and quiet, breathy moans started falling from my lips.

“Such a good boy, Spence,” I moan as I scratch my fingernails against his scalp. “You’re making me feel so good, baby. Love that dirty little mouth of yours.”

Spencer thrives on the praise – that much is made obvious by the way he whimpers and tightens his grip on my thighs. He’s completely submitted himself to the act of getting me off, only stopping long enough to cry out when my hands give a particularly harsh tug on his hair.

“Add a finger, baby,” I tell him, allowing my hand to drift down the side of his face, caressing the sharp angles of his cheekbones.

Spencer releases my thigh from his hold and tentatively raises a hand to my entrance, eyes raising to meet mine.

“You’ll tell me if I do something wrong?” he asks, and his concern is so endearing that I tilt his chin upwards and lean forward until my lips meet his.

Spencer gasps into the kiss, shocked, but it doesn’t take him long before his lips are moving against mine fervently. His lips are slick with my arousal, and I dart my tongue out just long enough to swipe it across his bottom lip.

“D’you like how I taste, baby?” I murmur against his lips, pulling back slightly when Spencer tries to bring his lips down against mine.

“S-So much,” he whispers, before letting out a frustrated groan when I tease him with the slightest brush of my lips before pulling away again. “P-Please, kiss me again.”

I bump my nose against his before I reach down and grab his hand in mine.

“Don’t be a greedy boy, Spencer. Greedy boys don’t get to cum,” I chastise him as I raise his hand up to my mouth. I trace my bottom lip with his pointer finger as Spencer watches on in rapt fascination, before taking the digit into my mouth and sucking. Spencer chokes out a pathetic cry and his hips hopelessly buck into the air as I swirl my tongue around the pad of his finger, taking special care to coat it with spit before releasing it from my mouth.

I guide his hand back down to my pussy, gasping when the tip of his finger brushes across my entrance.

“Just take it slow, baby. Start with one and move up to two once you get the hang of it.”

Spencer nods, eyes alternating between my face and my entrance as he slowly slides his finger in me.

“You’re so warm, oh my God,” Spencer breathes out, tentatively pulling out his finger before inserting it back in. I hum appreciatively as he begins to move faster, eyelids fluttering shut when he lowers his head and begins languidly licking my clit.

“Feels so nice, Spence. I fucking love your fingers. Knew that they’d feel like this. I can only imagine how good your cock will feel,” I ramble, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other tugging on his honey brown hair.

I groan as he inserts a second finger, reveling in the way he’s stretching me out.

“Curl your fingers when you – fuck! Just like that, baby. Gonna make me cum if you keep doing t-that.”

Spencer speeds up both the onslaught of his fingers and his mouth at my admission, tongue working figure eights on my clit while his fingers brush up against my g-spot. A familiar warmth starts to spread in my lower belly, and with every swipe of Spencer’s tongue against my clit, the coil in my stomach winds tighter and tighter until, finally:

“O-Oh, fuck, Spence!”

The coil snaps, sending jolts of pleasure straight through my core. I can feel the way my walls tighten around Spencer’s fingers as my orgasm rips through me, never stopping their ministrations in an attempt to help me ride out my high. Vibrations ripple across my clit when Spencer lets out a cry of his own before his movements halt completely as shudders wrack his body.

I know he didn’t just…

I allow myself a moment to recover before I lean forward and drag my eyes down Spencer’s slender frame – and sure enough, his tummy is covered in white ropes of cum and his now softening cock is hanging limply between his legs.

Spencer’s eyes reluctantly open when his shudders cease, and one look at my pissy expression is enough to send him into a fit.

“I-I didn’t mean to cum! I’m so sorry, Miss. It’s j-just that you looked so pretty when you came, and you taste so good! And you were pulling my hair, and you called me a good boy and I just couldn’t do it anymo-”

“Shut up,” I seethe, voice cold and laced with annoyance. Spencer’s mouth snaps shut and he gulps. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t remember saying that you were allowed to come. Am I mistaken?” “N-No, Miss.”

“Mm, that’s what I thought,” I hum. “Stand up.”

“B-But I want to make you cum again! Can I plea-”

“Shut the fuck up and stand up, Spencer.”

Spencer rushes to his feet, stumbling a bit when his legs begin to shake. He corrects himself, standing perfectly still in front of me with a shameful look on his face. I scoot back on the bed and fix him with a stony look.

“I want you to lay on your stomach across my lap. Can you do that, Doctor Reid, or are you too stupid to follow simple directions?”

Spencer adamantly shakes his head, scrambling to splay out across my bare thighs. Once he’s comfortable, I raise a palm to his bare ass cheek and smooth my hand across the skin.

“Color?”

“G-Green,” Spencer stutters out.

“Wonderful. Since you’ve decided to be a greedy little slut and cum before I gave you permission, I’m going to punish you. Do you remember your safe word, baby?”

“Tolstoy.”

“Good boy. I’m going to give you ten, and I want you to count them out for me. One for every month you held out on me, and four because you’re an insolent little whore who can’t do as he’s told. Does that sound fair to you?”

“Y-Yes, Miss. P-Please.”

A harsh smack sounds throughout the room, and Spencer lets out a whorish moan that’s bound to wake the people in the neighboring rooms. The pale skin of his ass transforms to red, and I rub my palm across it soothingly.

“O-One,” Spencer says through gritted teeth as he rocks his hips against my legs.

“You okay, baby?”

“Y-Yes, Miss. Please don’t stop. I deserve it. P-Punish me, please.”

My palm comes down across his ass four more times, and with each strike I watch Spencer fall apart right before my eyes. Tears are gliding down his flushed cheeks, and his cock is now painfully hard against my legs.

“Five more to go, baby. Keep counting for me, my pretty boy.”

By the time my hand comes down against his flesh for the final time, Spencer has devolved into a mess of pathetic whimpers. His cock is smearing precum across my thighs as he rocks against me, and his ass is covered in a litany of bright red marks. Incomprehensible pleas are falling from his lips, and his hands are tightly fisted in the sheets.

I lean forward and place a gentle kiss to each of his battered cheeks.

“T-Thank you, Miss. Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

“You’re welcome, baby. Can you go lay in the center of the bed for me?”

Spencer gives a feeble nod and crawls to the center of the bed, carefully laying himself down and letting out a low hiss when his ass came in contact with the mattress.

I let him rest against the sheets before I roll over and settle in between his legs.

Spencer’s cock, painfully hard and leaking precum, sits against his belly. Spencer watches as I trace lithe fingers up his thigh, his chest rising and falling quickly as I get closer to where he demands my attention.

A garbled groan rips from his throat when my hand grasps his cock, and I have to place my other hand on his hip and force him back down onto the bed when he tries to buck up.

“Stay still, baby,” I tut as I drag my fist up and down at an agonizingly slow pace.

“S-Sorry, M-Miss,” Spencer stutters. His brows are drawn together and his eyes are heavy lidded. “Need m-more, please.”

“Mm, I don’t think you need more. You just want more. Dumb little greedy baby,” I tease as my thumb swipes across his head.

“Oh… G-God, please!” Spencer mewls.

“Is what I’m giving you not good enough?”

“N-No, it’s just-”

I raise an eyebrow at him and halt my movements.

“No, it isn’t good enough?”

Spencer lets out a frustrated groan and his fists clench the sheets.

“P-Please, Miss! I’ll be your good boy, I promise. Just let me cum, please, I want it so bad!”

Thoroughly pleased by his shameless begging, I start moving my hand again.

“Let me know when you’re about to cum, baby.”

That moment comes when, not thirty seconds later, the muscles in Spencer’s abdomen start to spasm – telltale signs of an impending orgasm. Spencer is so lost in the way my hand is moving against his cock that he makes no move to warn me, and just as I see his eyes start to flutter shut, I withdraw my hand.

“W-Why did yo-”

“You didn’t tell me you were about to cum. I thought you said you were going to be a good boy, Spencer? You sure aren’t acting like someone who wants to cum.”

“S-Sorry, please, just… fuck!”

Spencer’s whole-body folds in on itself when my mouth wraps around the head of his cock. I swirl my tongue around the tip, lapping up the precum that had gathered before I pull away.

“You’ve got such a pretty cock, baby. Can’t believe nobody’s had you in their mouth yet,” I murmur, pausing to drag my tongue along the veiny underside of his erection. “Let me hear you, baby. Wanna know how much you like when I use my mouth on you.”

“Love it so much, oh God… Feels so warm and wet. Thank you so much, Miss. God, it feels perfect,” Spencer keens as I take him into my mouth again. Mumbled praises fall from his lips as I take him deeper, and the second my nose hits the soft skin of his belly, Spencer’s hand comes up and begins to tap incessantly on my shoulder.

“S-Stop! I-I’m close – Jesus Christ, I’m so fucking close and I really want to cum inside you, i-if that’s okay with you,” Spencer babbles, eyes wide and pleading. I smile up at him.

“Do you think you deserve to cum in my pussy?”

“H-Honestly, no, but I’m hoping you’ll let me anyways,” Spencer says, shooting me an adorably shy smile that has my heart doing somersaults in my chest. I let out a light laugh and shake my head, moving to straddle his lap.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Spence?” I murmur as I caress the side of his face with my hands. “This can stop right here, if you want it to.”

“Please, Miss. I want this. I want you,” Spencer reiterates, eyes shining and filled to the brim with adoration.

“Want you, too, baby. You can call me my name now, if you want,” I say as I place a gentle kiss on his lips. I move to pull away, but Spencer’s hand is quick to grasp the back of my neck and pull me back in.

While our lips move together, frenzied and desperate, I sneak a hand in between our bodies and grab Spencer’s cock. He gasps into my mouth as I drag his head in between my folds.

“I-I won’t last long,” Spencer chokes out, eyes trained on where I’m rubbing him against me. “I’ll try my b-best, but I’m sorry if I c-cum too fast.”

I sink down just enough that his head is the only thing inside me, watching as his face contorts beautifully as a result.

“Don’t worry about me, baby. Tonight’s all about you.”

With one last, chaste kiss to his lips, I slowly begin to lower myself down onto his length. The sound of our moans fill the room as Spencer clings desperately to me, hands finally finding purchase on my hips.

“Y/N, fuck, you feel so good,” Spencer whimpers as I begin to slowly rock against him. “I-I knew it would feel good, but oh my God. I-I can’t… I’m gonna cum, soon. M’so sorry.”

His admission prompts me to move faster, raising my hips until he’s almost completely out of me before I’m slamming back down.

“Spence, you feel so good. Such a good boy – my good boy.”

“Yes, yes, I’m all yours! Only yours, please!” Spencer whines. I lean forward, and the change of angle is enough for both of us to cry out.

“Are you gonna be a good boy and cum for me, Spence?” I murmur into his ear, biting lightly against his earlobe. “I want you to cum in me, baby. Don’t you want to be my good boy?” I punctuate my words by lightly wrapping my hand around this throat and squeezing, and that’s all it takes for Spencer to completely fall apart underneath me.

“Y/N - fuck!”

Spencer’s grip on my hips tightens as he bucks up into me, painting the inside of my pussy with his cum as he yells out strangled exclamations of my name. He presses his face into my shoulder as I ride him through his orgasm, whispering quiet thank yous and pressing open mouthed kisses to my skin as the euphoria floods through his body.

I place a kiss to his forehead before I crawl off of him, having every intention of getting up and procuring a wet washrag. But Spencer reaches out to grip my arm, and his eyes look so sad that I stop in my tracks.

“C-Can you stay? Please?”

The insecurity in his voice tugs at my heart.

“Of course, I’m staying. Was just gonna get a wet washrag for us. M’not gonna leave you, Spence,” I murmur. Spencer visibly untenses, but his grip on my arm doesn’t lessen.

“Could you just stay here a little bit longer?”

“Sure thing, baby,” I say, prompting Spencer’s lips to pull up into a pleased smile. I crawl back into the bed and lay on my back, and Spencer instantly plasters himself to my side. He hums contentedly as he wraps his arms around me, and I let out a light laugh when I catch him stealing glances at me.

“What is it, baby?”

A rosy blush spreads across his cheeks.

“Can I kiss you?”

After everything we just did, he still feels the need to ask permission to kiss me. What a sweet boy.

My answer comes in the form of me pressing my lips to his, and that’s how we stay until he pulls away.

“I have another question,” he says shyly.

“Lay it on me, baby.”

The blush on his cheeks gets significantly more pronounced.

“It’s just that, uh, you didn’t get to cum again. And I really want you to, because you took such good care of me,” Spencer pauses, and his fingertips lightly graze the inside of my thigh. “C-Could I please eat you out again?” Another pause, and he retracts his hand. “I-It’s okay if not. I understand if you just wanted this to be… a one-time thing. I guess I was just kind of hoping that it w-wouldn’t be. But that’s silly – you were just doing me a favor. I’m sorry I asked.”

Spencer cringes as he finishes speaking, not even giving me a chance to reply before he’s trying to pull away. I tighten my grip on his arm, and Spencer gives me a weary look.

“First of all, I don’t think I would ever say no to being eaten out – especially if you’re the one offering. Second, this is definitely not a one off. I have lots of plans for you, pretty boy,” I explain, and the relief that radiates off of Spencer is almost palpable.

“Thank God,” he sighs, and then he’s scooting down the bed and settling in between my legs.

And if the rest of the team notices the way Spencer starts following me around like a lost puppy - well, they’re all kind enough not to point it out.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #sub!spencer #dom!reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfic #smut #dom/sub #sub spence

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winter-soldier-vibes · 3 years

Note

hi! request for one where reader struggles w depression a lot but hides it, tho it’s been getting worse recently and only bucky has noticed the small signs. then one night after no one seeing her the whole day or maybe something happened he went to check on her but she wasn’t in her room and he panics only to find her on the roof and just talks her down <3 all the love

Of course! I hope you're okay love❤❤❤. I saw another anon request something a lil similar in my ask box but I can't find it, maybe it got eaten, but I hope you like this!

Word count: 3,400 (ish)

Warnings: suicidal thoughts, depression, close to an attempt, Bucky talks about HYDRA, feelings of worthlessness.

A/N: This deals with very heavy subject matter, please do not read if you are in a dark place. I am here to talk if you want but I encourage you that if you feel this way in ANY way, no matter how severe, to reach out to someone. I also just wanted to say that the way someone talks someone down is never the same, some people may find a different approach more helpful or realistic. I wrote it this way because this is what I feel in my experience would have been helpful to hear. So please, if you don’t think it’s the way someone should talk someone down - please don’t come at me for it.

Overnight

People often don’t notice the small signs. The smiles that don’t reach the eyes, the dark circles from lack of sleep, the laughs that slowly become more forced. People don’t often pick up on those things right away. They happen slowly, as depression will often manifest. It’s rarely ever a flip of a switch shut down, happy one day and sad the net. Anxiety was like that, small things can trigger panic attacks. But with depression, it was this slow ache that grew in your chest, this dull cloud that made everything darker day by day.

These things rarely happen overnight.

You don’t know what caused this episode. You had struggled with depression and would go through some really low episodes before returning to baseline. It was never great, but it was...manageable. Most of the time. Some things could help you predict when you would go into another episode but you felt yourself slipping and you weren’t quite sure why.

You started withdrawing from the team. Subtly, not all at once. That would cause too much concern and the last thing you wanted was to be a burden. Especially with something like this, you didn’t even have an explanation.

It started slow, training on your own, missing team dinners, that sort of thing. If they were going out to celebrate or staying in for a movie you would slip away to your room where you didn’t have to worry about hiding it.

You didn’t want to be alone, you already felt so goddamn lonely. But somehow being lonely and surrounded by people who loved you hurt more.

The team chalked it up to you wanting to be alone, a bad day, being tired, etc. Whatever recycled excuse you gave them didn’t phase them. At least, not at first.

See, people who have experienced similar things will pick up in the small signs that others show. Someone who knows what anxiety is like will often be the first to pick up on nervous habits and tics. Often people notice when someone’s energy is coming from adrenaline and caffeine rather than sleep when they’ve done the same thing. Someone who knows what it’s like to feel hopeless and not want to reach out - they notice the small signs of withdrawing.

He noticed pretty early on the change in your demeanor. You had always been one to keep to yourself but this was different. You always seemed exhausted in a way that sleep couldn’t ever fix. Your laugh wasn’t quite the way it used to be, now forced and short, not the usual bubbly laugh it was.

Most people are able to just live and go about daily functions - eating, sleeping - it just came naturally to them. Surviving was natural to them. But it seemed like you had to put thought and effort into surviving.

Which, you were.

Slowly it became hard to motivate yourself to do the basic things to take care of yourself. You would do the bare minimum because you had to, but even that was starting to take more effort than it should. You were eating less because you just weren’t that hungry, but you still did because you knew if you didn’t you’d get sick eventually. You spent as much time in your bed as possible, but not much of it was sleeping.

Bucky picked up on these things and came up to talk to you about them, but you’d smile and shake your head.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a little tired I guess.”

You weren’t lying, you were tired - emotionally more than physically.

Tired of more than what the day brought - tired of yourself, of your emotions. Tired of the way you felt so out of touch with yourself, out of control. Tired of how you wanted to get better but no matter what you did, it still came back. You were so tired of being exhausted all the time and there was nothing you could do about it.

You were tired of living this way.

You weren’t necessarily suicidal, it wasn’t that you didn’t want to live. You just didn’t want to live this life, not like this. You were so utterly exhausted day in and day out, every day was about getting to the end of it. Everything seemed pointless and you felt like you were watching life go by but you weren’t living it.

You were surviving. And you didn’t see much of a point to it anymore.

Your mask was cracking. And people were noticing.

Maybe it was when you were falling asleep during mission briefings, or nearly passing out in training because you had forgotten to eat. Maybe it was how no one saw you anywhere that wasn’t necessary. The team passed it off as a bad day or week, something you would get over because you were strong.

But apparently not the strong that you needed to be. You could fight off agents, assassins, you could run for miles. But you couldn’t stop your mind from telling you that life was pointless and you were a waste of space. But the team wrote it off as a bad week. But Bucky knew that this had been going on for much longer than a week.

These things rarely happen overnight.

Too many people were asking you if you were okay, and you weren’t, but you didn’t know how to say it. But you thought that if you had to choke out one more “I’m fine,” you would shatter. And you weren’t ready for everyone to see that.

You stopped coming out of your room unless it was for the bare necessities. You would come out at night for water and food, picking at it in your room so that no one would see you.

But that only made Bucky worry more.

The team, again, wrote it off as you needing some “Alone time” because maybe you just had a “bad day”. Of course they worried about you but they thought that if things were bad, or if there was something you needed help with, you would speak up. Because that’s what you did.

But Bucky was worried. He knew that when someone pushes people away, they may think being alone will help, but it only makes it worse. You may not want to talk to anyone, you may think being alone is what’s best. But it rarely is.

Being alone makes it harder to fight your demons. They can run rampant when given the chance. Being alone is the darkest and loneliest hell, and he knew that all too well.

He wasn’t going to leave you alone in that.

He came up to your room one night, wanting to check on you. He knocked on your door, being met with silence. He knocked again, calling your name, but was again met with silence. He tried the doorknob and found it unlocked, opening the door to an empty room.

Where the hell were you?

You weren’t anywhere else in the tower, so where were you?

Bucky stood there for a moment, confused before he remembered the AI system. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.Where's y/n?”

“I believe that they were heading up to the rooftop about a half-hour ago.”

Bucky’s eyes widened as he sprinted out the hallway and towards the stairs.

---

You looked out over the street, arms crossed over your shivering body. For now, you just looked down at the city below. You chuckled bitterly to yourself. There must have been thousands of people down there, thousands of lives, and you wondered how many people felt the way you did right now. So much hustle and bustle, things to do and places to be. You didn’t know a single person down there, it was just a blur of movement. Yet they all had their own personal stories and hells and blessings and shit that made them who they were.

You wondered how many of them pretended like they were fine.

You were standing closer to the edge than you should’ve been. You weren’t doing yourself any favors. You really shouldn’t be up here, but you didn’t know what else to do. Everything hurt all the time and it was just getting worse. You didn’t know whether or not you were gonna jump but here you were, teetering on the edge. Because no matter how much this hurt you still couldn’t bring yourself to fall forward.

You were scared.

You felt tears sting your eyes, angry, exhausted, everything - you couldn’t do anything right anymore, you felt no purpose, you were tired and scared all of the time. You felt so utterly done with everything, yet here you were with a way out and you were too scared of that too.

You were trapped in your body, trapped in your life, and while you didn’t want to die, you didn’t want it to hurt anymore. It wasn’t that you had nothing to live for. It wasn’t that you had nothing left. You knew you did, you knew the team was there for you. You had more support than you could ever need. But you didn’t know how to use them.

You didn’t even know how this happened. How did things get this bad? You remembered when you were happy, the person you used to be. The person everyone still seemed to think you were. Where did they go? What happened to them? And would you ever be able to be that person again?

Did it even matter? Would anyone even care or notice? They did a great job at ignoring what had been happening. Not that you wanted them to find out in the first place. It was so confusing, you wanted to scream for help, you wanted someone to just fucking notice or something. But didn’t you also answer every single “Are you okay?” with "Oh yeah I’m fine, just a little tired.”

So did you truly want them to know? Did you actually want them to notice or help?

You closed your eyes tightly, shaking your head a little to yourself. It was all so confusing, so frustrating. You didn’t know what to do. You felt completely trapped within yourself.

These things rarely happen overnight. And they never get better overnight either.

You took a breath as you looked down, toes slightly off of the ledge. One step or losing your balance would be all it would take. And then it would be over. Forever. It wouldn’t hurt anymore.

“Y/n?” you heard a calm, albeit nervous voice speak from behind you.

You felt your breath catch in your throat. As you squeezed your eyes shut. “No,” you whispered to yourself.

“Y/n, can you come down from there?”

“Why are you here?” you asked, voice strained with pain.

“Because I’m worried about you,” he said, voice sounding closer.

“I don’t want you to be worried about me! I never wanted anyone to worry about me!” you exclaimed.

“And where did not talking about what was bothering you get you?”

“No one would ever have to worry about me again. Not anymore.”

“No one on the team would ever be able to stop thinking about you,” Bucky started, walking closer to you. He spoke gently, worried he would scare you or you would suddenly jump off. “About how we should’ve worried about you. Everyone would blame themselves and ask themselves if they could’ve helped you if they had seen you were hurting.”

You heard his footsteps stop.

“This isn’t going to solve anything.”

You took a shaky breath. “What else am I supposed to do, huh?” you turned around, back facing the streets below as Bucky stood a few feet in front of you. “Pretend like this is gonna get better? Because it isn’t. I’m so sick and tired of pretending like one day everything’s gonna be okay again. It never stops hurting, it never turns off, and I can’t do it anymore!” you yelled, tears streaming down your face. You shook your head. “I know this won’t solve jack shit and it probably makes me weak, but I’m okay with that. Because I’m past the point of wanting to solve anything. I just want it to stop! Is that too much to ask?!”

“It is if your life is the price!” Bucky exclaimed. “We can’t lose you. You’re a part of this team - this family,” he said a little more calmly, trying to keep his own tears at bay. No one should go through feeling so hopeless, and you were one of the kindest people he knew.

But some of the most kind-hearted people are the meanest people to themselves.

“I’m not here to judge you or try to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. I’m not gonna tell you life is all beauty and grace because it isn’t. It’s okay to be in pain but this is not the way to fix it. I just wanna help you.”

You shook your head. “No one can help me.”

“At least let me try,” he said gently.

“You don’t understand okay? It never stops hurting,” you said, voice cracking slightly. “It always hurts and it's this ache in my chest and I feel like I’m suffocating. No one told me that life was going to hurt, no one fucking told me! They say life isn’t fair, or that life may sometimes bring you down, but they never said that existing would be torture. And I don’t want to keep living if it’s going to hurt this much.”

You saw Bucky’s face fall and you shook your head. “Please just go - You weren’t supposed to see this.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’d rather see you at your worst than not see you at all,” he said. “You don’t have to do this yourself. I know it may seem like you do but you don’t. You never had to, and you never will have to. You have me, us, the team - we’re all here for you but we can’t if you don’t let us. But I’m not leaving you. You’ve been alone for too long already.”

You felt a new lump in your throat, feeling overwhelmed. Trapped between death and your worst nightmare. You never wanted to be vulnerable, you never wanted to hurt anyone with your own pain. But hearing Bucky’s words, seeing the panic in his eyes -

You had already hurt him. And he was right - killing yourself was only going to hurt the team more.

But it just hurt so much.

You had heard it so many times - “think about the impact you’ll have on those you love”, or how “suicide is selfish” and shit - made you feel like a horrible person. Because you did care about everyone, you cared too much. And it wasn’t that you didn’t care about hurting them with your decision - it was just that the pain of staying alive began outweighing the fear of hurting those you loved.

And it was torture.

You wanted to say everything that was on your mind - scream and cry and curse the universe, you wanted to break something, you wanted to be hugged, held, and told it would be okay - you wanted to get everything out.

You didn’t want to be alone anymore.

You’ve been alone for too long already.

You let out a broken sob, knees going weak as Bucky caught you and pulled you into his chest, away from the edge.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you said between sobs.

“I know you don’t, I know,” Bucky said, holding you tightly as if he feared you would disappear if he let you go.

Sticks and stones can break your bones but words can never hurt me was utter bullshit. Because the next words that came out of your mouth hurt Bucky more than anything HYDRA had done to him.

“Please just let me die. Why won’t you let me die? I just wanna die, please just let this be over.”

People didn’t realize what depression could do to a person. Someone who was full of life could end up like this. You don’t know what went wrong or when it happened, but you just felt absolutely broken inside. The kind of broken that can’t be fixed.

Bucky felt his heart shatter, tears falling down his own cheeks at how hopeless you had sounded. He had never been overly close with you, but you were always kind to everyone on the team. And the team had failed you by not noticing sooner.

“I’m gonna bring you inside okay?” Bucky said. You didn’t hear him, crying so hard that you couldn’t focus on anything else. He picked you up, carrying you back into the tower. Bucky brought you back to your room, sitting down on your bed with you. He rubbed a hand up and down your back, holding you tightly as he tried to help you calm down.

Exhaustion overtook you, your body becoming worn out from all of the crying and emotions. You never let your guard down like that in front of anyone, and shame began to overtake you.

“I - I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have seen that I’m so so sorry -”

“Don’t,” he started. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“No one was supposed to know,” you whispered.

“Why not? What’s so bad about asking for help?”

You paused for a moment, unsure exactly why. “I don’t know - I just feel really weak sometimes?” you said, more of a question to yourself. “Like I know everyone needs help and shit but I didn’t have a reason to need it. It hurts but I don’t know why, I cry when I’m not sad, I just - I’m not in control of myself and I don’t know why and if I can’t explain it to myself then how am I supposed to talk to anyone about it?”

“That makes more sense than you think. All of us on the team, we all go through shit. We see so many horrible things, we’ve been through so many things. We all have something. You have this. It’s okay if you don’t know why you feel the way you do but hurting yourself isn’t going to help anything.”

“I know what it’s like, wanting a way out,” Bucky said and you immediately knew what he was talking about. “Days that I wished Pierce or Rumlolw or whoever would just finish me rather than punish me over and over. It wasn’t that I wanted to die, I just wanted it to stop.”

You looked at him. “I know. But what I didn’t know then was that it would end. I never thought it could ever end or that it would ever end, but it did. And if I had died back then I would’ve died only knowing that pain. I wouldn’t have known that it could get better or that it would. And I’m not saying everything is perfect now because it’s not. But it’s better than it was. Okay?”

You nodded, fresh tears spilling out of your eyes. You knew the torture that Bucky went through, everyone on the team did. It had taken him a long time to speak about it on his own and move through it. But he did.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” you said.

“Talking about it, getting it out is a great start. Talking about it never hurt anyone.” When you seemed a little apprehensive, Bucky added, “I felt alone for so long. Battling these thoughts and memories in my head. They never stopped. But when I started talking about it with someone, and they helped me work through it - I don’t know. It helped me a lot. It wasn’t just me and my thoughts anymore. I wasn’t alone.”

I wasn’t alone

“You don’t have to be alone anymore. I’m not going anywhere. Whether you like it or not I’m gonna be right here with you

These things rarely get better overnight. But maybe with someone else, they could get better a little bit quicker.

You gave a small nod. “Okay.”

---

Taglist: @buckys2thicc @babydaddy-buckybarnes @thatfangirl42 @im-sick-of-failing @sup--ernova @peggycarter-steverogers @bucks-bunny @barnesplums @mardema @abitgryffindorky @freigeistundanderes @strawberrimae @broadwaybabe18 @sokovianheadtilt @daydreaming-lightly @onyourgoddamnleft @arkhamasylumresident

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#bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #bucky barnes comfort #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #angst angst angst #angst #marvel fanfic #mcu #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mcu fic #mcu fanfiction #tw suicidal #tw depressive

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thewritetofreespeech · 3 years

Note

I don't know if you've done this before :( but could you maybe write about the Obey me brothers after an argument with MC?? Like a fight make up kind of situation??

400 years later.....

Well, maybe not that long, but certainly long enough. I'm sorry >.<. Hope this doesn't put you off on sending other things because I did like doing this one!

Obey me Brothers + MC After a Fight

Lucifer

It was late into the evening when you heard the knock at your door. Before you could ask who it was, you heard the even timber of Lucifer’s voice behind the door. “[Y/N], it’s me. May I come in?” There was a long pause than usual between his introduction and question, seeming to debate asking, or your response, before he asked it.

To be honest, he had a right to be cautious because you weren’t sure what your answer would be before you opened your mouth. “Yes. Come in.”

The heavy door opened and Lucifer stepped in. Prim and as well stationed as ever, but the confidence normally in his face diminished just the slightest. “I…came to apologize.” The words seem to want to drag out of his throat. Like it’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to say. Not the best start for an apology.

“You didn’t have to treat me that way.” You tell him. Telling you like a child in front of everyone. Getting your hand smacked for something you didn’t even do. No coming to give some lack luster, dutiful apology he doesn’t mean. “And don’t say your sorry if you’re not.”

“I am sorry.” Lucifer insisted, before he took a deep breath and tried to relax. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have embarrassed you like that in front of everyone. I was upset, and took it out on you. Sometimes you’re an easy target because I know you’ll care for me no matter what I do. We always hurt most the ones we love.” Your cheeks tint at the comment. Damn him and his suave words.

The demon makes the effort to cross the threshold and take your hands. “Please know that I am truly sorry for my behavior. I will strive to never make you feel foolish, or less than, again. My mission in life now is to show you how much more than I find you over everyone else.”

You roll your eyes a little at the comment. “Let’s not get carried away. You’re starting to sound like Asmo.”

You giggle when Lucifer gave a forced, disgusted shutter. He then lifted your hands to his lips and gave them a kiss. “Am I forgiven?” He asked.

“I suppose.” Annoyingly, he was right. You would always care for, and love him, so it was hard to stay mad at him for long.

“Good,” he said, with his usual prideful smile, “I’m glad. I do plan to still make it up to you though. So make no plans for Saturday.”

“Will do.” You agreed. Giving him a tiny salute. He then left to let you finish getting ready for bed. Ideas of how he’d ‘make it up to you’ swirling in your head.

Mammon

There was a sharp rap at your door that rung out clear in your room over your headphones. You were curious who was here at this hour, but got up to go answer the door before the tried again.

You open the door and are immediately confronted with a bundle of flowers being shoved in your face. Almost to the point of the blooms bursting against your cheeks. You stagger, at the afront of color, and the bouquet is pulled back slightly to reveal Mammon behind them. “I…bought you these flowers. To say I’m sorry.” The more he talked the more his voice trailed off. His normally confidence draining like the color from his face.

“Isn’t it rather cliché to buy someone flowers to apologize?”

Mammon flinched at your criticism. “I didn’t know what else to do. If you don’t like them I’ll buy you something else. Anything you want! Just please…talk to me.” Please forgive me, was what he was really saying.

You look at the demon for a moment. His defeated stance not fitting into his character at all. Ironic, since the fight was about Mammon being too full of himself. Confidence was one thing, but ever now and then it was too much, and when you tried to talk to him about it he turned on you. He had immediately regretted it, but you refused to talk to him for several days after to cool off.

Apparently, that was the worse punishment he could think of.

“You don’t need to buy me anything Mammon. I’ve already forgiven you.”

“Really??” He asked. Seeming unsure of what he’d heard or that he could trust you.

“Really.” You repeat, and immediate find yourself in his arms. Your flowers falling to the floor as he hugged you.

“Thank you [Y/N]! I’ll never do anything stupid like that again! I promise!”

“Well now, let’s not make promises we can’t keep.” You tease. Patting his back. “We all make mistakes Mammon. I’ll be angry with you sometimes, but I generally forgive you. How can I stay mad at my ‘First Man’ for long?” His hold on you tightened a little. It lingered for a moment longer before he let you go.

“Yeah. Right. Don’t you forget it.”

Levi

You were getting ready to head downstairs when there was a knock at your door. It was a surprise, since you were going down to meet everyone. So who was up here now? You open the door and find everyone’s favorite otaku, out of his hole and in front of your door, staring at you.

“Y-Y-You…You weren’t answering my texts.” Levi finally got out.

“That should have been a hint.” You tell him. Perhaps a bit more curt than need be.

The bluenette straightened in alarm before his shoulder slumped again. “I know. I’m sorry! But I couldn’t stand the thought of you being mad at me! I know I can get a little…-“crazy?” You interjected –“excited about my games and stuff, but I really didn’t mean to snap at you!”

The two of you had been playing some new quest game that was all the rage apparently on the deep otaku net. Supposedly it was unbeatable. No one had actually ever seen the final boss ending yet. Which of course meant Levi was determined to be the first. Confident that his eons of experience wouldn’t lead him astray.

Sadly, the legends of the unbeatable game were true. And after hour after hour of crushing defeat Levi snapped and took it out on you. He’s locked himself in his room after. Ashamed, and upset that he hurt you; if his texts were anything to go off of.

“I threw the game away and I’ll never play it again. I promise! I’ll never go all rage beast mode on you again as long as I live! Just please forgive me and talk to me again!”

“Oh Levi, it’s not that serious.” You insist as you reach out your hand to his clasped ones in front of you. Reassuring him. “We all get a little crazy when things don’t go our way. I forgive you. In the future lets try to play games that are a little less….taxing on our relationship, if we can manage.”

“R-R-R! Relationship!” Levi stammered. Turning bright red in front of you, which made you giggle. You lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek. Really frying his circuits. Maybe it was a little bit out of you missing Levi when you were fighting. And maybe it was also his ‘punishment’ for the fight as well.

Satan

Tucking into your homework for the evening, you look up from your desk when there was a knock at the door. It was sharp, to the point. You immediately knew who it was, and debated not answering. However, that would be rude and a level of pettiness not even you could manage.

“Hello Satan,” you greet when you open the door. Correct in guessing who was there. “How can I help you?”

The blonde seemed wounded by your formality, usually such a champion of manners. But he was a clever man and knew you were doing it to put some distance between you. “I came to apologize.”

“As you should.” Ok. Maybe you were a little pettier than you like to admit.

“You’re right, and I should have been here sooner. I was just….embarrassed.” Satan ran his fingers through his hair. “He just makes me so angry sometimes! Being so high and mighty. Bossing us around. I try to keep it under control but….I can’t.” Given he is the Avatar of Wrath, it’s a wonder he made any effort to keep his rage in check. Everyone says he was getting better though. Even his relationship with Lucifer was getting better; even with this spat. “It pains me more than I can tell you to know that I upset you in the process. Turning on you like that like an idiot when you were only trying to help. It was so stupid.”

“It wasn’t very like you.” You admit, and Satan gave a single, bitter scoff.

“Maybe not now. Maybe with you.” Cautiously he reached out his hand to take yours in a gentle hold. “But I am sorry. Please know that I’ll strive to not let my anger get the better of me again.”

“I’m sure you will.” You said. Squeezing his hand back. “And, I forgive you. I should know by now not to get involved with any of your fights. But I care about you all so much.”

“But you care about me most, yes?” He asked with a soft smile. To which you giggle and kiss his cheek.

“Yes. I care for you most.”

Asmo

It was late afternoon when you heard the knock at your door. Typically, everyone was off doing their own activities at this hour, so it was a surprise to have someone looking for you. You open the door cheerfully at first, but then frowned. “Oh. Hello Asmo.”

“Hello [Y/N]-kun.” Asmo greeted brightly, but you could tell it was forced. “I…wanted to come see you. To apologize. For acting so ugly earlier.”

It’s not often that Asmo lost his temper. He usually left that to his silly, older brothers. Rising above in dignified beauty, as he liked to put it. But every now and then it got the best of him, and his tongue was sharper than any knife in the draw when he got that way.

“What you said really hurt Asmo.”

“I know,” he admitted frowning. “I haven’t been able to sleep all night thinking about it. Look at these bags!” You frown as he pointed to his under eyes, and he realized he was being selfish again. “I’m sorry I said such awful things the other day. I don’t have an excuse or fix for it. Except to say that I’m sorry, and I hope you forgive me.”

You let out a soft sigh at his words. He did seem sincere. It was a little odd to see Asmo so down. “Alright, I forgive you.” The demon immediately perked up with his usual smile and took your hands in his.

“Thank you [Y/N]! Let me take you out shopping, as a further apology. I’ll buy you anything you like!”

“So we’ve resorted to bribery now?” Asmo giggled at your joke and you nod. “I’ll right. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get out. Anything I want?” Asmo nodded and made some suggestions on what you could spend his money on as you walked. Inevitably ending up on lingerie, which earned him a smack.

Beel

You had just gotten back from class when you heard the knock at the door. It startled you. You had only just gotten back a moment ago, so what remarkably good timing.

You finish taking off your uniform jacket before you open the door. Startled, yet again, to find Beel behind it. “Beel?”

“Hi [Y/N].”

An awkward silence filled the space, one that hadn’t been there since you first arrived in the Devildom, before you spoke. “I uh…was going to change. I just got back from class.”

“I know. I waited for you to come back.” The red head confessed. Nervously scratching the back of his head. “I wanted…to talk. I wanted to apologize.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” You reply. Now nervously scratching the back of your head as well. “If anything I should apologize.”

Beel was so sweet and kind. But sometimes, his ‘space cadet ways’ over anything that didn’t involve food or fitness was very hard to deal with. He’d forgotten you were supposed to meet, yet again, so when he showed up an hour late for your date yesterday you had given him an ear full. He’d been hurt, but took it. Now you just felt bad, like you had kicked a puppy, with it over.

“But I should have remembered. It’s not fair that I forgot when we were supposed to meet. Again.” He looked upset with himself and fidgeted with his hands. “I really am sorry I forgot. I don’t want you to think you’re not important or anything. I’m just dumb.”

“You’re not dumb!” You scold Beel. Not accepting him putting himself down like that. “Can’t we just agree that we’re both at fault. You should have remembered, but I shouldn’t have yelled at you either. Can’t we just….make up? I hate fighting with you.”

Beel smiled softly and leaned forward to give you a hug. “I hate fighting too. I think I’ll be ok if we both take blame. That seems fair.” He let you go and stepped back. Seeming back to his usual, easy going self already. “Do you want to do a make up date? If you’re free. I can take you to Madam Scream’s or we can go get Fire Iceies.”

You giggle and nod. “Sure. That would be wonderful.”

Belphie

It was so late at night when you heard the knock at your door that, initially, you thought you dreamt it.

Hearing it again, you woke up and threw on your robe over your pjs to go answer the door. Groggy, and a little concerned as to who could be here at this hour. Something must be wrong.

“Belphie?” You question in a whisper. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” He said. Remarkably less groggy than you were for a change. “I had to see you.”

“In the middle of the night?” You question. Getting more alert and annoyed at being woken up by him.

“Yes. I couldn’t sleep. Imagine that.” His fingers twirl at his long bangs while he looked down at the floor. “I came to apologize.”

“Apologize?” You repeat. Shocked, more than anything, that he was here to apologize. Not that he did deserve an apology to you, you just didn’t think he’d do it.

“Yes. To apologize. Can we make up now?”

“That’s it??” You remark after his ‘apology’. “You say you’re sorry like that and I’m just supposed to forgive you?”

“Yes. That’s how apologies work.”

“No it isn’t!” You snap. Louder than you wanted to with the late hour. You set your teeth and wheeze through them. You don’t want to start another fight. “You apologize because you feel bad about something and want to make it up to the person. It has to be sincere.”

“I am being sincere.” Belphie insisted. “This is sincere as I get.”

“Well it certainly doesn’t feel like it.” You reply. Crossing your arms.

It was Belphie’s turn to sigh at you. “Look. I’m not like Asmo or the others who are great with words. I came to apologize, and that’s it. I was wrong and I wanted to say I’m sorry. That’s the best I can do.”

“Why do you even want to say your sorry? If you don’t sound like you mean it.”

“Because I hate you being angry with me.” You blink in surprise at Belphie’s confession, and he sighed again. “I hate it. I hate not talking to you. I don’t care what anyone else thinks of me, but if you hate me, I can’t stand it. So, I came to apologize. To do anything so you wouldn’t hate me anymore.”

You uncross your arms and scrunch your lips a little bit. “That’s a better apology.” He looked back up at you with a questioning look. Seeming surprised that he had ‘done good’. “And, I don’t hate you. Just because I’m angry with you, for good reason, doesn’t mean I hate you. I could never hate you.”

The demon smiled softly. His expression tired, but hopeful. “Thanks [Y/N].”

“Now, we need to get back to bed. It is the middle of the night after all. And we have school.”

“Ok.” Belphie agreed. Then stepped into your room and made way to your bed.

“In your own room mister!”

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sunatooru · 3 years

Note

Hewwo :3 I won't lie i saw this idea in an another blog but i loved it too much. Headcanons for Suna, Tanaka, Aone and Kita's reaction if their s/o acts weird and suspicious like she is hiding something and cancel their dates for a week. Then she text them "we need to talk" and they think she'll break up with them, she starts to talk like a break-up speech and they got scared, say something like "we can talk, please don't break-up with me" she says "what? I was just trying to propose marriage!"

Hii I love this idea! If you could tell me where you first read this I would love to read it and see the boys worrieddd and if you see this interact! (I love angsty stuff) x

Hope you enjoyyy and also I have no reason why some are long and some aren’t xx

Suna

* You hadn't replied to him in 5 hours

* He knew you could be busy, I mean you both usually are, but it's almost tradition that you send an "I love you sleepy" at this time

* He has noticed that your conversations have gotten shorter

* He thinks you're probably stressing out and doesn't want to press you

* He tries to set up a date, booking a private dinner room in hopes of relaxing you

* You had an excuse on why you couldn't

* He'll send you morning texts and general messages but you'll rarely reply

* He's not loving the distance

* He decided to go to Osamu's shop and bring you some onigiri

* What he didn't expect was to see you hugging Osamu as he closes the shop

* He's having so many thoughts right now as he walks back to his house that he doesn't realise the buzz of his phone

* It's only a shower later he sees you've messaged him

* "Hey, we need to talk"

* No emoji, no nickname, no suggestions that this is not a break up text

* He could barely sleep, had to force himself to open the door when the knocking woke him

* He felt his heart freeze at the sight of you, your hand fidgeting with your sleeves as you nibble your lips

* He didn't want you to leave him, not when he's loved you so hard, not when he knows he'll never love anyone like he has you

* And then you start to speak, he has to control the pain beginning to ache in his heart

* "So I know we've been together for a long time now and it has been amazing. You're amazing and I hope what I say next doesn't change your view of me because I-"

* "Please don't leave me!" His voice cracked at the end and your eyes widen

* "What?" And you see him looking at you sadly

* "I- please don't break up with me...I can't...even if you like Osamu..I can't love anyone else." Hug him please

* "Rin what? I'm not breaking up with you! I'm trying to propose!" You comfort him and he's shocked

* "What..? But what about last night at Miya's?" "I obviously wanted your best friends help, I'm been trying to propose for days but end up ignoring you. I'm sorry baby."

* God he's softly chuckling now

* "Yes" He grins, kissing the corner of your lips

* "I haven't asked yet"

* "Doesn't matter. It's always been yes."

Tanaka

* You're already his life partner in his eyes, adores you and always messages you

* Gets so excited to communicate to you in any way

* So he's not sure what's he's done to receive the cold shoulder from you

* Everything was smooth sailing until a week ago

* You suddenly stopped receiving his calls, choosing to text and even then they were short

* You've cancelled on him twice already

* Both reasons being you was busy

* Too busy for him?

* He tries not to overthink anything of it

* Doesn't allow doubt to creep in knowing that you two were strong, right?

* But then he notices how your calls with him got shorter, your texts becoming less frequent

* He would zone out thinking about what's going on with you two

* He would reread over you texts

* Gets a little depressed when he realises something is wrong

* He can feel a heat creep into chest, tightening when he sees your latest text

* "We should talk"

* His heart just cracked, he's pacing in his room

* He's not ready, you're his one, he's crying at the thought of you not wanting him anymore

* A day later he sees you in his living room

* His anxiety shoots up the moment you open your mouth, he closes his eyes

* "Don't break up with me!"

* "Huh?" He opens his eyes, you're on one knee as you have a ring box open

* "I've never wanted to. I'm sorry for being distant... I was nervous. Would you marry me?"

* He's crying, relief spreading around him, he digs into his pocket and kneels in front of you

* "I've been saving this for months. I'll take you if you take me."

* I headcanon Tanaka carrying a ring always once he knows you're the one

Aone

* He picked you were acting strange recently

* You would greet him fast and leave faster

* He doesn't really understand what's happening

* As a way to have you around him more he offers you dates

* "There is a new restaurant, so you want to go?" "Sorryyy I'm really busy today but maybe next time!"

* "It's hot today, I can buy you ice cream?" "That would be nice! but I just need to finish stuff"

* He's starting to feel neglected. A whole week has gone by and he hasn't seen you

* He's feeling pain

* He frowns when he sees his lock screen of you

* Starts to write a message but then deletes it

* He doesn't even know who to talk to about it, his sister? His friends? His pet?

* If it he could, he can't voice his concerns, as if he doesn't know if his voice can handle the words or his feelings

* Doesn't know how he ended up thinking about you not wanting to be with him anymore

* "We need to talk" his chest tightens, for some reason those words have him sad

* A day passes and all he can think about is what you want to say, doesn't realise his vision starting to blur until he he feels a tear run down his cheek

* Stares at the ceiling and frowns, he would never hurt you, so why are you?

* The next day you arrive at his home

* He welcomes you silently and senses that your feeling jittery

* "We can talk but please don't break up with me.." he needed to speak first

* "Aone?! Baby no what? I don't.. don't want to break up...I was just trying to surprise you." You mumble

* "I love you. Will you marry me?"

* Enjoy his crushing hug, never worry him again please

Kita

* He knew something was up the minute you didn't send him a good morning text

* He knew something was wrong when you didn't replace the text with kissing and heart emojis

* He knew something was wrong when he felt his head get heavy when you didn't send him a single text the whole day

* When you did finally message him he was relieved but still concerned

* You ended up meeting the next day but he could tell you were acting strange

* You seemed to avoid his gaze, barely relax around him, wouldn't even hold his hand for longer than 5 seconds

* He was not happy, why won't you let him hold you?

* Starts to get annoyed when you pay more attention to your phone then him

* Tries to glance at it but you're fast to not let him see and point to something else

* This goes on for days

* Except he hadn't seen you in those days

* You've either seen his message to meet late or have a reason why you can't

* Reasons he does not believe

* Tries to call you but you decline

* What? He's apprehensive now

* You've never declined before, what's going on

* He start to overthink, do you not like him anymore? Is there someone else?

* Tries to run his errands but can't do a complete job without his thoughts going back to you

* Thinks about how you've been tense around him, less touchy, secretive and he wants to know why

* He want to know why you have been distancing yourself from him

* Why when he thinks about you this last week he feels like crying

* He's suspicious and doesn't want to be

* He thinks about the things he lacked

* The things he couldn't give you that you wanted

* He's fragile but he doesn't want to give you up

* "Can we talk later?" He should feel happy you messaged him but why is he feeling uncertain? Why does he want later to never come?

* And now you're in front of him

* "Shinsuke, I know I haven't been talking to you recently but I've just had things on my mind. I really wanted to talk to you earlier but I just got nervous. You know I love you and we've been together for a while now but-"

* "Please..don't break up with me.." he lets out a sob and your eyes widen

* "Kita no no I'm just trying to propose! Please..don't cry please" you rush to comfort him

* "Propose?" "Uh yeah I was waiting until the ring was done by the jewellers but then got scared you might say no.."

* "Why would I say no?" You raise your brows at him

* "Silly, when have I ever said no to you" he chuckles and then kisses you

1K notes · View notes

gliphyartfan · 3 years

Text

@yandere-linked-universe @stars-for-thought @linked-heroes @ice-cream-writes-stuff

@imprisioned-in-the-hole I loved your prompt and couldn't resist! Hope I did it justice!

Wind has a strong presence in this one, that wasn't planned by the way.

Enjoy!

'I'll be fiine guys.'

She totally should have saw this coming.

'This is Wars' era, wandering the market won't that bad.'

Yep— these past few days had been too damn calm for the all of them,

'I'll be gone for an hour! Two hours tops! Promise!'

Of course something like this was going to go and happen.

'This. fucking. sucks!' She grunted, slowly slide down the rope she made out of the sheets in the room she was trapped in.

This is what happens when you jinx yourself.

'Everything will be fine!' Oh suuure, the first hour was delightful.

Saw some items,

Chatted with some folks,

Even got to pet a few dogs!

But the second hour-

'His Grace wishes to discuss some things with you.'

'Sorry, you got the wrong person. Plus I don't feel comfortable with-'

'That wasn't a request.'

'...-!!'

She should have know there would have been someone behind her.

It's always when it's out of your mind that it happens.

And now she was trying to escape her own wedding. And the crazy Duke that wanted to marry her.

She wasn't a hero damnit!

'I'm gonna get lectured so badly after this!' She grunted as she reached the end of the rope, her feet dangling in the air for a moment as she tried to figure out what to do next.

'Damn you laws of physics and gravity!' She whispered to herself.

Physics and gravity decided to take her insult personally as the rope loosened its hold on the railing, causing her to fall into the bushes two feet below her.

'Urk-branch! Branch!' She hissed in pain, reaching underneath and removing the branch poking at her back.

As she rubbed the area, brushing the crumpled sheet from her head, she checked her hand to make sure she wasn't bleeding.

Before she could plan her next move, she stilled as she heard the heavy thuds and clanks of armour approach nearby.

The movement came closer, she used her place in the bushes to keep hidden. Slowly parting the leaves next to her with one hand, she used what visibility she had to discover that yes, it was a pair of guards and the conversation that flowed through the air confirmed they weren't Hyrule guards.

Drat.

'Is the Duke really gonna marry that girl?'

'Seems to be the case. He's been very pleased with himself too. Looks like he's trying to get the wedding done by tonight.'

Double drat.

'I don't blame him, you've seen that girl? Bet he's eager for the wedding night.'

Okay. NO.

'Haha! A beauty like that for a wife would be quite the status boost.'

The guards walked past the bush and it's hidden occupant.

Had they looked back, they would have seen a displeased glare directed their way.

(y/n) huffed and looked around, trying to remember where the exit was.

With another glance around, she picked up her dress and slowly made her way out of the bushes, pausing momentarily before taking off the heels she was forced to wear

'I can't run and climb in this dress.' Trying to think about what to do next, she looked down at her clothes.

'Hmm...'

'WHERE IS SHE.'

'Link please-'

'Don't tell me to calm down Zelda!'

Wind bit his lip as Warriors marched up to the princess' face and growled.

'Impa is having her men search the castle and surrounding areas, we will find her.' Zelda tried to reassure him, taking a step back when he glared.

'It's been a WEEK and you have nothing to show for it!' He ran a head through his hair, taking a deep breath to calm down.

'You know I've been busy with-'

'With the Grand Duke of the farther kingdom who is here as a token of peace and unity between kingdoms.' Warriors recited irritably. 'Yes, very understandably important when someone went missing under the watch of YOUR men.'

'She was last seen in the market, we have blocked the gates and are inspecting every individual leaving the city.' Zelda gave Warriors a look.

'And might I remind you that they are also your men?'

'Apparently not anymore with how you let them slacked off!'

'Excuse me-'

Wind sighed as they started arguing again.

They were getting nowhere.

'This is going nowhere.' Wind turned and saw Hyrule coming up next to him, watching the arguing duo.

'Any luck with the others?' He asked quietly, not surprised when Hyrule shook his head.

'Twilight is using Wolfie to catch any scents but the storm has made that difficult. Time is with Legend and Wild speaking to the merchants and Four is with Sky speaking with the guards.' Hyrule replied, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

Wind felt the same way.

None of them were able to sleep well since she went missing. The only reason they slept at all was because they needed to be rested enough in the event a fight comes their way.

But the lack of her presence was deeply felt.

'Any luck here?' Hyrule asked hollowly, already knowing the answer but still asking.

Wind simply gestured to the still arguing duo.

'Is she even still in town?' He couldn't help but ask, not wanting to think of the possibility that she was far away, but it was necessary.

'She has to be,' Hyrule reassured,smiling weakly. 'The town went on lockdown almost immediately.'

Wind returned Hyrule's smile with a weak one of his own.

They turned back to the duo, feeling more tired as they listened to the princess justify her duties.

'I am already dealing with the Grand Duke and I can't give anymore of my attention to this than I already have.' Warriors just gave her a look.

'I wouldn't be bothering so much if you allowed me access to his guest quarters.' It was Zelda's turn to glare at him.

'You know I cannot do that, he is a guest and has nothing to do with her disappearance.' Only Wind and Hyrule noticed the way Warriors hand twitched, as if desiring to reach for his sword.

Not that they could blame him.

'I am not accusing him Princess,' he said through gritted teeth. 'I am merely requesting-'

'That I allow you access to his quarters.' The displeased expression on the princess' face only matched the captain's.

'Annnd they're arguing again.' Wind muttered, watching them fall back into another verbal brawl.

'The only place we haven't looked is the guest wing.' Hyrule whispered, wringing his hands.

'You think we should sneak in?' Hyrule looked at the arguing pair and nodded.

'Yeah...it's better than assuming nothing is there.'

'Alright...Wars!' The angered captain looked at them, a scowl on his face.

'Rulie thinks he has a lead at the market so I'm heading out with him.' Wind kept a casual look on his face, staring Warriors in the eyes.

Warriors was quiet for a brief moment before he grunted and turned back to arguing his case with the princess.

But he was less tense than he was a moment before.

He understood what they were going to do.

'He'll keep her distracted.' Wind murmured, tugging Hyrule out of the room.

'And Impa?' Wind sighed and rubbed his shoulder.

'Still searching the market place I bet, we gotta be quick.'

And with that, they both headed to the guest wing of the castle.

---

The guest wing wasn't too far away, probably for the convenience of whatever foreign guests came to visit.

But it was walled off and the Grand Duke's personal guard was patrolling the area, forcing the duo to sneak their way in.

'I really hope we find something.' Hyrule whispers, the two stilling as a guard passed by their hiding place.

'Best place to look is the most obvious place.' Wind reassured. 'And the most obvious place is a area that's being guarded by enemy guards.'

Hyrule didn't correct him about the guards.

If she was here, they were enemies.

'Let's look through the rooms! Top or bottom floor?' Hyrule hummed.

'We're good at escaping from higher levels, and there's only two floors, let's start low and move up.'

They worked together, both alerting the other when a guard was close.

Soon they snuck passed the majority and reached the first set of rooms.

Then the second set.

Then the third.

They moved up to the second floor and quietly searched through each room.

It was in the Grand Duke's room that they found incriminating evidence on his desk.

'I can't read this language,' Wind whispered harshly as he glared at the papers in front of him. ' but I know (y/n)'s name anywhere!'

'Take it, we can sure it to the princess.' Hyrule whispered back, keeping watch at the door. He tensed when he saw a couple of guards round the corner. 'We need to go!'

'This is the last room and we haven't found her!'

'We found evidence and that's a better than what we had before, now move!'

It took some time to shuffle out the window and climb down, but they were successfully able to make their escape from the guest wing without notice.

'A lead, that's good.' Wind gasped, hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

'But still no (y/n)' Hyrule bite his thumb nervously. 'I hope she's okay...'

'We can't lose hope!' Wind grunted, stretching his back and sighing.

'Let's go, we need to show these papers to the others before we give it to the princess-'

The sailor went rigid, eyes snapping forward, widening.

'What's wrong Wind?' Hyrule asked worriedly, hand on the younger teen's shoulder.

The teen bit his lip to keep his expression from crumbling and his breath was shaky,

'(y/n)...?' Hyrule's own eyes widened and his head snapped to look when Wind was staring.

There, in a torn dirty white dress, no shoes, and messy hair, was their beloved goddess looking around, visibly distressed.

'(y/n)..?' Wind raised his voice, hope as visible in his tone as it was in his eyes.

Hyrule's heart felt such relief as their beautiful goddess' head snapped in their direction.

The smile she gave them was simply magnificent as she immediately ran toward them.

The moment she was close, she wrapped her arms around the both of them and began to cry, relief filling her.

'You have no idea how happy I am to see you two!' She hugged them closer.

'WE'RE happy to see you!' Wind sighed happily, resting his head in her shoulder, both him and Hyrule hugging her as tightly as she was hugging them.

Just having her in their arms was a blessing they treasured so much.

'Where have you been? How did you escape?' She sighed and shook her head.

'I'd rather tell it one time.' She looked around.

'Please tell me the others are near by?' She whispered, absolutely exhausted and didn't want to deal with any more drama.

'Well...no. They are looking for you in town. We snuck into the guest wing to look for you.' Hyrule answered apologetically, heart clenching when she sniffled.

Wind frowned for a moment before he gasped in excitement.

'I'll rally them up!' Hyrule and (y/n) looked at him in confusion as he reached into his pouch.

'Wild has the slate! And if he has the slate-' he pulls out what he was searching for.

'Then we can reach him with this!' (y/n) tilted her head.

'A...stone?' Wind grinned at them, the pirate's charm dangling from his fingers.

'A COMMUNICATION stone!' (y/n) gasped in delight and gave Wind another hug.

'Call him! Call him!' Wind laughed and activated the stone.

'Um, I've been meaning to ask...' Hyrule quietly said to (y/n) who looked at him innocently. '...About your..outfit...'

Wind ignored them for a brief moment as Wild's tired voice came from the pirate's charm.

'What is it sailor?'

'Guess who me and Hyrule found!' Wind grinned as he heard gasps.

'You found her?! Is she safe?!'

'They found her?!'

'She's okay! We're by the-'

'HE WANTS TO MARRY YOU?!'

Wind turned his head so fast, he winced at the pop he felt, the loud yells coming from his charm filling the air.

'WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GUYS?!!' (y/n) winced as she realized the panic she just caused

'Uh-'

He couldn't help it, Wind laughed, soft and just a little hysterical.

Of course an insect had to pop up when they let their guard down.

---

'Where is she.'

'Sir, we have our men searching for her this very moment.'

'I want her found by TONIGHT, the wedding will go as planned.'

'Of course sir!' The Grand Duke scowled as his guard walked off.

He is so close to raising his status.just another day and he would have been on top of the social world. He sneered, like a child, storming down the halls of the guest wing.

'Should have simply left with her when I had the chance.' He ran a gloved hand down his face.

To think he had one of the heroes of legend in his grasp only for her to have slipped through his fingers.

He'll have to make sure to teach her a lesson.

'Sir!' He sighed irritably, turning to see another one of his guard approaching him.

'What is it? Did you find her?' The guard looked nervous.

'Sir, Princess Zelda is requesting your presence in the throne room at once.' The Grand Duke tensed and stared at the guard.

'Are you sure?' The guardsman nodded, stepping back when the Duke growled.

'Of all the times...' He looked back at the guardsman. 'Continue looking for the girl.'

After the guardsman nodded, he decided to get it over with and headed to the throne rooms.

'Grand Duke, thank you for coming at such a short notice.'

'Your Highness.' The Grand Duke bowed to her, as he rose he noticed the nine gentlemen standing to either side of her.

The heroes of legend.

The Grand Dukes greed brought to mind the rise in his status at what might be a possible meeting with the legendary nine.

He was to arrogant to realize the cold looks he was receiving from them.

She smiled, nodding in greeting. 'I apologize for disturbing your day Grand Duke, I understand how frustrating it can be, but I heard of a strange rumor recently and I had hoped you would clarify it for me?'

'Please rest assured Princess, I will do all that I can to assist you.' He said, smiling openly, the perfect gentleman.

'Splendid. Now,' She dropped the smile. 'Did you conspire to abduct the heroes' companion and force her to wed you?'

The Grand Duke froze, paling as the question registered in his head.

'Wha-'

'Ah. Before I continue, allow me to properly introduce the gentleman before me-'

'There is no need your Highness,' calmly interrupted Time, coldly gazing down at the nervous Nobleman. 'He is as aware of our identities as we are aware of his.'

'I-'

'And you seem to be very aware of the identity of our most dearest companion.' Legend hissed from his place next to Time, glaring daggers at the unsettled man.

The Grand Duke's expression twisted into fear, anger, and panic.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he cleared his throat. 'I'm sure I don't know what you're speaking of.' He calmly answered.

'Perhaps a misunde-'

' A misunderstanding? I'm sure.' Warriors scoffed, looking at Zelda with a raised eyebrow.

She sighed "Lets not fool ourselves here, we all know what this is about.' She stared sternly at him. 'You abducted the young woman known as (y/n) and were conspiring to wed her for...status?'

'She isn't very happy about being kidnapped.' Wild said casually, as if he was not wishing he could jam a bomb down the Grand Duke's throat and detonate it.

It seemed the arrogant man could barely handle being talked down in such a way. His clenched fists trembled in anger.

'I will not allow such accusations to be made against my person!' He looked at Zelda, face flushed in anger.

'If you believe that our kingdoms will be allied after this, I assure you that-'

'If your kingdom is full of noblemen like you, than Hyrule would benefit by NOT allying with you.' Warriors interjected, ignoring Zelda's stern look towards him, looking down his nose at him.

'You have no proof!' Warriors sighed and nodded.

'I suppose I don't.' He was silent until the Duke looked smug before he matched his expression with one of his own, pointing behind the Duke.

'But she's proof enough.'

'Oh, so I'm demoted to proof now, am I?'

The Duke went rigid, his mouth snapping shut on the words just spoken as he slowly turned his head-.

An dispassionate look directed right at him.

'Apologies my Angel.' Warriors smiled softly at her. 'No insult meant.'

'Hmm.' She raised an eyebrow, a brief glance at Warriors before looking at the Grand Duke.

'(y/n) I ask for complete honesty.' Zelda commands. 'Was the Grand Duke the man behind your abduction with intention to force you to wed him?' (y/n) nodded.

'Yes your Highness.' Zelda closed her eyes and sighed.

'Very well, I will arrange for his departure tonight.' The Grand Duke's face a unique combination of red and enraged yet also paling.

'T-This will not stand! When my king hears of this-.'

'We have already sent your king the information of your crimes.' The princess proclaimed to the unsteady nobleman.

'Y-you-'

'You are no longer welcomed within the borders of Hyrule Kingdom and are henceforth outlawed from ever returning. Impa shall escort you to the guest wing to retrieve your belongings.'

Zelda then turned and strode away, but not before sending an apologetic glance at Warriors.

He simply returned her look with a blank one.

(y/n) walked passed the royal knights that now surrounded Grand Duke and made her way to the group.

'I'm so glad you guys found me.' She said with relief in her voice.

'You ended up saving yourself dear.' Time chuckled, reaching up and cupping her cheek. 'And we were panicking like we lost our minds.'

'I was panicking when Wind and Hyrule popped up.' She admitted. 'Trust me, I was so happy and relieved to be found by you guys.'

'We'll always find you (y/n)!' Wind chirped, wrapping his arms around her waist, causing her to giggle.

'Well I guess it has it's uses.' She clapped her hands.

'I'm hungry and demand all the cuddles! I hated this week!' Wild was already pulling out his slate and looking through his inventory.

'I'll make a meal that'll taste so good, you'll forget this week ever happened!' (y/n) grinned in delight.

'That's what I want to hear!'

The Chain surround her as they guided her out of the throne room, the angry cries of the Grand Duke not worth notice.

Yet two members of the group lingered behind.

And they were eyeing the fuming nobleman with calculating eyes.

'We could have been a bit more...hands on with his punishment... ya know that don't you old man...?' Wind commented, his treasured wind waker in one hand.

'As enjoyable as it would be, I don't want to spend a moment longer away from Her.' Wind sighed but nodded in agreement , crossing his arms, tapping his wind waker against his chin.

'So the storm will kill him?' Time nodded, inspecting his Ocarina casually.

'I have more than enough magic to conjure one strong enough.'

'You've already had Wild damage parts of the ship correct?' Wind nodded. 'Than once I summon the storm, make sure the winds finish the job.'

Wind hummed. 'Kay.'

They both looked at the shrinking form of the dead man walking.

'Ugh, I hate bugs.' Wind huffed, a disgusted look on his face.

Time stared at the Duke until he could not see him no more.

'Hm..So do I...'

That night, the group of nine celebrated the return of their most beloved member, lavishing her with their affection and as she requested, all the cuddles she asked for.

(That night, reports were received by two kingdoms that notes a vicious storm appeared as the Grand Duke's ship sailed beyond the Hyrulian sea borders. Destroying the ship beyond recognition. There were no survivors.)

#timeline two au #linked universe #linkeduniverse #yandere linked universe #lu #lu hyrule #lu time #lu wild #lu legend #lu artemis #lu wind #lu warriors #y/n

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wincore · 3 years

Text

atlas | kim dongyoung

pairing: doyoung x reader

words: 15.4k

summary: kim doyoung has a lot of titles. student body president, music club president, favourite student of every professor who’s blessed enough to have him. in other words, he’s not your type and never will be. at least he’s a good kisser.

or, you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and you do not know how to hold things as delicate as glass.

genre: college au, fwb au, hurt/comfort, angst, some fluff

warnings: very suggestive content, making out, language, smoking, alcohol, mentions of sex under influence, me being pretentious,,

prompt: anonymous said: slippery + doyoung + "you can rely on me, you know." from the first dialogue link! LOVE YOU ❤️

song rec(s): playlist here !

a/n: yes it’s me experimenting out of my comfort zone again. yes you are required by law to listen to keshi while reading this hahahaha anyway writing this was painful. <3 (aka today i tried writing very complex human emotions and failed again. classic.)

In the beginning, there was no beginning. Ergo, this isn’t really a thing.

You shouldn’t be thinking of summer in Introduction to Latin. You are a good (perhaps great, if your ego allows) student after all. Here you are, though, listening to the ticking of the clock and wondering if you sigh loud enough, you won’t have to construct another sentence with the word for ‘death’. You pause to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be thinking of summer out of class either. Unremarkable; that's what it was and you don’t like unremarkable things.

When two people end up alone together, there’s not much to make of.

“You know,” he had said, locking eyes. “We should get out of here.”

“And then what?”

“Fuck.”

So here’s the thing: this isn’t and won’t be a thing.

Doyoung has never been subtle when drunk, you found out, and he’s not as gentle as he looks. You flip the page of your notebook absentmindedly. You don’t like where your thoughts are going; the clinking of ice against glass rings in your ears again. It’s been far too long (one whole month) and you’re craving a bit of fun. You may forget yourself but you’re reaching your fingertips a little too far to call him again. More excuses pop up. See, in your world of perfection, there’s a hierarchy of things; men rank rather low.

(Fun doesn’t.)

Here’s another thing: you forget yourself quite often. You know very well that you’re the one who continued this not-thing and now you’re daydreaming of Kim Doyoung in class hours.

And under grey bed sheets with a tired smile, Doyoung is hard to forget.

It was a party, it always is. That time, however, was the first party of the year Doyoung and you happened to be attending at the same time. You can’t remember who hosted it—the frat probably—but it was at a bar called the ‘The Meeting Place’ which had too many people you didn’t care about. Doyoung was there, in his laid-back glory, and you were drawn in far too easily. Being single did not help your case—and the alcohol certainly didn’t. You’re not sure if it was the gentle touches against your wrist or quick words that left his mouth or the attractive all-black get-up. All you know is that it was your mouth against his by the end of the night in a small booth, hot and impatient. Once, twice, thrice and you didn’t even need parties anymore.

It’s not like you weren’t aware of what you were doing; it’s just that you were quick to give in—like you didn’t want to resist in the first place. And now, summer smells like Doyoung’s perfume.

The first night had given Mr. Student Body President a near-stroke. You weren’t the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men at parties either so the morning had been full of awkward explanations to each other till you’d kissed him to shut him up (much like in a disgusting romantic comedy, minus the feelings) and somehow, it worked. He didn’t refuse and if you recall, he’d eventually pulled you closer by the waist.

You huff, twirling your pen. He’d never admit it.

You didn’t kiss so sloppily after that, unless it was to make out against a wall or while fumbling with the keys to your apartment. The lack of alcohol can bring wonders. You were a little surprised that he’d agreed—he is the Doyoung you’ve known since freshman year after all; blunt, rude, cares more for his grades than he’d ever for you. How laughable. He’s almost the same as you.

Here’s one last thing: Kim Doyoung is not and cannot be your type.

You had the same part-time job in your second semester at a local fast food joint, and to summarize, your interactions were less than friendly. You can’t possibly count the number of times he yelled at you for trivial mistakes, and the number of times you sent angry, clipped sentences his way. So, yes, neither of you have told anyone—just acting friendly got you enough eyebrow raises. If there’s anything worse than contradicting yourself almost directly, it’s having to explain that to your friends. So, you kept it a secret and so did he, for his own reasons.

You massage your forehead. If you think any more of this during class hours, you’re going to have to classify this as a terrible, terrible problem; like you don’t have enough already. You tune in to the lecture again, hoping it drowns out the rest of your thoughts.

You tap your pen against the desk till you’re asked to stop by the professor. There goes your last resort. It isn’t the first time, but you breathe a sigh of relief at the hands of the clock. Casual means casual—you know it better than anyone. Maybe it would be easier if you could be more open about it. But you can’t. Your own problems aside, Doyoung would kill you if his reputation went down, even a nick. Men like that are so difficult, you curse to yourself.

You run into Ten in the hallways, brightening at his absurdly wide grin. In fact, you haven’t seen him remotely upset since freshman year, when he couldn’t join the dance club, not because he failed the audition but because he mixed up the dates and missed it entirely. (It’s okay; he got in the next year.)

“Guess what!” he yells before you’re even in conversation range.

“What?” you yell back.

“No, guess,” he says, when you’re close enough.

You roll your eyes. “You scored a date?”

Ten deadpans. “No. I don’t even want one.”

“Loser.”

“No, you.”

“How clever.”

Ten flicks your forehead with no provocation whatsoever, making you yelp in pain. After a minute of cursing on your part, he squishes your cheeks to bring you back to reality—like he wasn’t the cause. You bite your lip to keep yourself from scowling. His hair is still light brown from the bleach, and you fix his bangs out of habit; your dumb friends are all you have at the end of the day. You sigh. They all lean on you unwittingly.

“Anyway, the news? I’m not guessing anything else,” you warn, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Well,” he draws out the syllable. “I heard- know you’re into the smart type. You know, student council kinda guys? So…”

You choke, the coffee leaving your mouth just as quick as it entered.

“Who told you that?” The laugh that leaves your mouth is forced and certainly fake but it’s the best you can do.

Ten rolls her eyes, still smiling. “I was thinking if you would be interested in a certain Park Hyungmin.”

Oh. Student body vice-president. He’s most definitely your type, with a gifted body and equally strong academic prowess—not to mention perfectly maintained tan skin and the most radiant smile you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Oh, yeah, he’s hot,” you nod in agreement. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“He likes you. Like, totally has the hots for you. And I owe him so please help me out here.”

You furrow your brows, heaving a deep sigh.

“You...want me to go on a date with him?” you ask.

You can oblige. Park Hyungmin is the hottest dude on campus (probably). It’s a win-win situation—in fact, it’s even better. A certain bitter taste finds itself in your mouth. It must be the coffee. You swallow it.

“Yeah.”

And the deal’s done.

It was casual commitment, like most things you do for fun. You don’t think much of it, and the thought takes its final bow when you run into Doyoung himself.

Well, sort of.

You turn heel when he appears in your line of sight, pretending to fix your hair against a damn wall. You aren’t quite ready to face him yet, considering the coffee hasn’t kicked in—it’s not healthy how much you depend on it. Dependence is different, however, from consciously drowning yourself in it.

See, Doyoung is anything but tolerable without a few shots of vodka. Or after sex. Or when he’s mumbling in his sleep. And you can’t erase any of those scenes. This is you trying to save yourself (and Doyoung) from embarrassment and a whole lot of explanation.

His coat looks expensive and you’d rather he had it on instead of on his arm. The tucked-in sweater and pants combo accentuates the line of his waist and the colour—you wonder where he found a teal so fitting—looks serene in the crowd. He’s wearing his glasses though, looking a little less put together than usual. Still, no one seems to notice and he continues to explain something to his group of friends.

God forbid you find Doyoung attractive during daytime.

His lips are chapped but pink as ever, the hair messed up by either the wind or his friends—you should stop staring by now. You give in. You’ll text him to book a hotel room tonight.

Sometimes you wonder how he has that large a friend circle, and always, the question answers itself. Eloquence, wit and regrettably, good looks—what does he lack? Maybe if he lost the habit to nag people around fifty-six times a day, he’d be the perfect man.

An arm slings over your shoulder, punting the soul right out of your body.

“Fuck, Johnny, don’t do that,” you hiss, placing your hand over your chest involuntarily.

The head of the photography club apparently spends his time terrorizing everyone he remotely knows. You make a foul expression but iIt’s not like he ever minds your scowling. He says he’s had enough practice from teasing Doyoung (and you’ll admit, it’s the only time you feel sorry for him). You were certain Doyoung would have filed him for harassment sometime in sophomore year.

“What are you even looking at?” Johnny asks, raising an eyebrow at the plain offwhite expanse of the wall in front of you.

You feel hot at the neck. “I was fixing my hair.”

“In front of a wall?”

You click your tongue. “Do you not have class?”

“Oh, don’t be so quick to send me off.” He places a hand over his chest in mock hurt, fingers stretched delicately.

To your dismay, the rest of his friends gather around giving you happy greetings—greetings only carefree college boys are capable of delivering. To your further dismay, Kim Doyoung arches an eyebrow at you, the same way he does on nights you’re doing things less than appropriate to think of in broad daylight.

“Hey, Doyoung, don’t you have anything to say? Or were you too drunk to remember?”

You bite down on your lip a little too hard. Doyoung, on the other hand, looks like he’s just seen God, stammering out a “what?” nevertheless.

“Weren’t you supposed to buy (name) a drink for driving you home that night?”

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat.

Oh, he’s bought you a drink enough times. Summer has waned but whatever thread you tied around your wrists hasn’t. Right now, your guess is that Doyoung has been ensnared in the common ritual for college boys to walk around campus and declare their friend is single just to embarrass him (or by some miracle, score him a date).

Everything, apart from the way you look at Doyoung, feels like a charade. You shake your head with a quick laugh, smacking Johnny in the arm and pay your condolences to Doyoung—keep it light. You’re good at it, or pretending you’re good at it, at the very least.

Doyoung’s gaze on you lingers for a moment and then you breathe. You’re going to be late for class—you offer the classic excuse and you’re out of there. In a way, it’s exciting. You’ve always wanted to have a secret relationship, even if this isn’t a real one.

Doyoung is like the summer breeze, and you’d like for him to stay that way.

The next time you grace each other’s presence is when Doyoung’s tongue is in your mouth and his hands are running up under your shirt.

He’s quite a pretty sight—messy hair, red lips and rosy cheeks. He moans into the kiss as he has quite a few times now and there’s the lovers’ high running through either of your minds. When he presses his lips to your neck, a soft restrained sound escapes you, not quite prepared for the sting of electricity through your skin. He moves to your collarbone and shoulders and then even lower, hands gripping your waist tight. The walls do not have ears here; these hotels are cheap but they’re built for privacy and maybe you’ll let yourself believe for once that you can belong to someone.

“Why did you text me in the middle of the goddamn night?” he mutters against the base of your neck.

“You want reasons now?” you whisper, hands running through his hair.

Doyoung has pretty fingers, pressing at the right places and prettier eyes that look at you with something akin to, dare you say it, love. He kisses you like he hasn’t had enough; and it makes you feel important.

He’s even better when he’s annoyed.

You wake up at around five in the morning. Propping yourself up on one arm, you take a moment to look at your partner. It’s easy to make out the line of his nose against the pillow, and if you focus, you can see his lashes against his cheek and his dark mop of hair clinging to his forehead. However gentle the moonlight is, it is kindest on a lover.

Funny.

Too tired to sneak out, you go back to sleep.

“All I’m saying is that you have too much coffee,” Doyoung complains, slipping on his loose black sweatshirt. “It can’t be good for your health.”

You shake your head, scrolling through your phone as you lay on your belly. You’ve seen this view enough times—his back to you and sitting at the opposite edge of the bed, his incessant complaints and opinions about something that happened recently, running his hand through his hair when he sighs. You press on the calendar app and type in a note labeled ‘x’. Keeping tabs isn’t a bad thing; especially if you like order. Spending too many nights with someone is going to land you in trouble. That said, if you could trap love in a bottle, you would.

“You taste like coffee,” Doyoung adds with reddening ears.

Sometimes, it’s easy to ignore what he says if you listen to the sound of his voice instead. You sit up, scooting closer as Doyoung shoots you an alarmed look. He’s so cute like this; something about all the painted fences he puts up around him makes you want to lean in closer.

“So,” you poke his side. “How many relationships have you been in? Proper ones.”

“Three,” he answers, to your surprise.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “That’s more than I’ve been in!”

Doyoung furrows his. “How many have you been in?”

“One.”

He seems equally surprised but doesn’t probe further. After all, the price sticker that spells ‘youth’ clings to his forehead just as it clings to yours.

“How many people have you fucked?” you ask suddenly, enjoying the visible flush across his neck.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he notes, flicking your forehead.

“Ow!” You place your palm against your forehead. “Okay, I get it, you have nothing to brag about.”

He shakes his head, an exasperated sigh leaving him. “I just don’t think you have to know. I like privacy.”

“Wait.” You gasp. “Don’t tell me- That night- don’t tell me you were a virgin—”

Doyoung squishes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, a laugh erupting from your mouth.

“Who’s a virgin?”

Nothing about this, you find yourself realizing, is complicated. It’s easy, gentle, natural, like a breath of fresh air—everything but complicated. Even under dim lights and within the depths of night, Doyoung is warm and uncomplicated. His chest, his hands, his lips—they are warm, as are his words.

But Doyoung is a fucking fairytale.

Even after these few months, all you know about him, in the definitive format, is that he plays the keys for more hours than he sleeps. What he does for fun, what his classes are, how he became student body president—you could play guessing games all night.

“Do your friends know where you spend your nights?” you ask, leaning back against the pillows.

“They know what I’m doing, not who I’m with,” he responds, running his fingers through his hair.

You purse your lips. It’s nothing hurtful but you don’t like the hush-hush in his tone.

“Why not?”

“Because this is a secret,” he responds as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Do you want them to know?”

He’s right.

“Ah, whatever,” you mutter, a stream of curses following when your elbow collides hard with the edge of the bedside table.

“Your mouth is filthy.” He looks away to his phone. “I don’t swear as much.”

“Well, of course it is. I had your—”

Doyoung presses his palm against your lips with a tired sigh. “Please. Don’t speak. For the sake of my sanity.”

You smile under his hand and he returns it; and the November morning warms up.

“Where were you last night?”

You were expecting the question. Areum is the worst possible candidate for a roommate if you want some privacy. You don’t think she ever sleeps; sometimes, you wonder if she even showers because all she does is stare at her laptop screen and adjust her designs. Her lips are always chapped and her hair is always in a simple low ponytail but somehow still messy. You’ve never met someone so exhausted yet so full of life at the same time.

“Who were you with last night?” Eunji yells from the bathroom, before the two of them laugh.

You knew you shouldn’t have stayed the morning. You have the nosiest roommates anyone could (not) ask for. But they’re still your friends, you tell yourself begrudgingly. You would tell them about Doyoung if it weren’t for Eunji’s big mouth and Areum’s lack of common sense. And if it weren’t for the inherent comfort of privacy.

(Some part of you wants to keep him to yourself. You don’t care about student council president Doyoung or his friend group’s everything-regulator Doyoung or always-has-his-shit-together Doyoung. The one in your bed is the most loving.)

Areum adjusts her glasses, narrowing her eyes at you. “So? Any answer?”

You break out of your daydream at her voice, feeling a flush creep up your neck.

“I don’t have to explain anything,” you retort, snatching the coffee she brewed from the tabletop. “It was a Friday night and the two of you like Netflix more than me.”

“That’s mine,” Areum mumbles out a weak complaint.

“But don’t go out alone,” Eunji whines. “It can’t be safe.”

You laugh. “You know me. I don’t do anything too dangerous. Besides, you guys have that tracker app.”

They shrug, offering you a thin smile. A part of you is happy that they trust you but another part wonders what it would be like to be worried over. Maybe getting nagged isn’t so bad.

You take a sip of Areum’s coffee and almost spit it out right back.

“Did you add salt?” you ask, wiping at your mouth and hoping the taste disappears.

“Uh.” A reply so intelligent, you wonder if she ever pays attention to anything she's doing.

You take a moment (a few), sigh (several times) and make your way to the shelves. Grumbling, you make her a proper cup of coffee before you leave.

Classes don’t wait for you (even if you think they should) and the world doesn’t wait for you (again, you think it should wait for people) so you’ve made it a point to understand the whole deal about rules. If everyone followed the rules, it would be quite a pretty scene; messing up is only valid if it’s done prettily. You laugh at the thought. That’s near impossible. The bus ride to the campus consists of music and thoughts of bleak tomorrows—an average commute for college kids, you think. You sure hope you aren’t alone in this.

Doyoung smiles at you in the hallway today, and despite your best efforts, it makes your day smell a little fresher.

Your day: classes, coffee break, classes, complaining with Ten, assignments, ‘me’ time. For someone who pretends to be laid back, you use your planner as though for survival. There’s no sticky notes or colourful sketches (except on occasion); just good old fashioned to-do lists and a calendar marked with time you’ve spent on productivity. Every day is a list to be completed. If people call routine a man-made cage, instinct is the biological cage. You’d rather be in control of the cage you’re in. You’d rather be in control of yourself. It’s scary otherwise.

So you know how to get the job done—it’s ingrained into you the same way you would place your hands over your ears at loud sounds, or the way you would run to your bed in the dark after switching off the lights.

It never occurs to you that the reason your world is so perfect is a sad one.

Sometime next month, it’s going to snow. Not yet though, and it’s still too cold.

The inside of the cafe helps the slightest, the heaters situated far back from where you sit. Christmas decorations are up already and the combination of red and green meshes delightfully into the form of an aching headache. The wood paneling on the walls are worn at the corners, the garlands hardly covering them, and the barista behind the counter seems as gloomy as the decorations are bright. You wouldn’t be noticing all of this if you weren’t stuck in one position.

You lean your cheek further into your palm and sigh, only this time Ten asks you to, quote, ‘shut the fuck up’.

He pulls up his sleeve and reaches for another pencil. His cryptic process continues, as it has been for the past half an hour and you feel yourself getting impatient, trying to not bounce your leg and get another bout of quibbling from your half-mad artist friend. You don’t usually run low on patience; but Ten has a special pass to test drive it.

“How much lon—”

“Shh!” He hushes you quickly. You can’t remember why you agreed to being his portrait study subject but you sure as hell regret it.

Around fifteen minutes later, you take a (permitted) breath. You have neither the energy nor the neck strength to glare at Ten but you make sure to show your displeasure by snatching the cookies from the table with a particularly sour look. He gets up and pushes you to the side of the small worn-out couch offered by the equally small booth.

“God, that chair was uncomfortable. My butt is frozen solid,” he lets you know, and you roll your eyes.

“You know, if we weren’t friends in high school, I would never be friends with you,” you state.

Ten tilts his head to the side, a mocking pout over his lips. “I would die without you, (name). Really.”

You smack his arm and he yelps, smacking your arm right back. The sound attracts some attention and giggles, and you make a gagging gesture to let them know you are in way or form in a relationship. The low-volume music changes to something with a more distinguishable beat, the sound of doors opening and closing almost every two minutes accompanying. Arriving on time is an accomplishment, especially arriving before rush hour on Fridays at the only decent cafe on campus, but both of your classes end early and there is no way you aren’t taking advantage of that. Leaving, however, is mostly done when you’re being glared at by the waiters and waitresses.

“Doyoung asked about you,” Ten says, all of a sudden. “Kim Doyoung.”

You try to not show concern, but raise an eyebrow. “What? So? He’s not my type or anything.”

You bite your tongue. That was too quick a response, too obvious. Your cheeks grow hot. Ten doesn't say anything, however, and for a moment, you think you’re in safe waters.

“Are you guys… into each other or not?”

You cough, trying to show your surprise at something so outrageous. “Why would you think that? Does he look like someone who dates around?”

“Actually, he’s been on quite a few dates.”

“No way.”

You know that. He’s told you about it before, in vague references, but you know about them nonetheless.

“Isn’t one student council guy enough?” you mumble. “Why are we talking about Doyoung?”

He shrugs, a familiar feline smile on his face. “Just asking. He talks about you sometimes. Actually, we forced it out of him but whatever.”

You shake your head. “You’re all terrible.”

“You seem to like him though.”

“Who said that?”

Ten sighs, ignoring your question. “If you guys are dating—”

“We’re not.”

“—or fucking—”

“Ten.”

“—you should learn a thing or two about him. The guy’s not as annoying as he looks. Or stuck-up. He’s really nice but don’t tell him I said that.”

“I know that,” you snap, feeling warm at the neck all of a sudden. “I know him.”

“Oh, you do? Tell me what his hobbies are then. Or his major. Or the clubs he’s in, apart from the student council.”

“He- He likes to sing and he’s- he’s—god, what is this? An interrogation? I’m not going to meet his mom for dinner.”

Ten gives you an ‘I knew it’ look before leaning his elbow onto the table. “You’re sleeping with a guy you don’t know anything about. Serial killers would love you.”

You massage your forehead. “Look, I know he’s a good guy, okay? And he’s sweet- and- and—wait a minute. Oh my god, you tricked me.”

Ten lets out a snort. “Hey. Okay, look, the other guys might be dumb as shit but I have, you know, a working set of eyes. I can tell. It’s not that hard.”

You grumble but the cat’s out of the bag anyway. You should’ve known Ten would figure it out—he’s a nosy little shit, and he’s been that way since high school.

“Whatever. As long as Doyoung doesn’t start panicking about his tarnished reputation or whatever.”

“Oh, I think he’s desperate to let everyone know.”

“To you, Ten, everything seems obvious. It’s annoying.” You mess up his hair.

“No, I mean, I thought you were dating.”

“Well, we’re not.”

Ten shrugs.

“And I don’t like him,” you add. “I like the- the thing that’s going on because there’s no feelings attached.”

He looks somewhat pained, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, but doesn’t respond to your explanation. “Can I ask for a favour?”

“No.”

Ten sighs. “Come on. You didn’t even hear me out.”

“You’re going to say something stupid. Or insulting.”

“It’s neither, promise.”

You run your hand through your hair, breathing shallow. “Fine. I don’t have to agree though.”

Ten purses his lips. “It’d be better if you did.”

You hum in response, biting into the cookie and trying to ignore the glare from the nearby waitress. It’s about time you left anyway.

“Get to know him, dude. Don’t break his heart.”

“What?”

“Just kidding. There’s a party tonight. Hosted by yours truly. Finally moved out of that stinky dorm room. Bring over some friends but not more than three. And lend me some money for a juicebox.”

“That’s a lot,” you mutter. “You ask for a lot of favours.”

“Oh, speaking of which, Hyungmin—”

“He already asked me out on a date. Am I supposed to say no? You never mentioned he has such an attractive voice.”

“Oh, I’m not telling you to not go on that date. You have to, actually. I’m going to be in a lot of trouble otherwise.”

“That sounds good to me.”

“Shut up. I’m not done speaking.”

You roll your eyes.

“But if you didn’t, I could draw some conclusions.”

“What am I, your chemistry experiment now?”

“Well, you and Doyoung seem to be—”

“Don’t complete that sentence.”

“I was going to say something funny.”

Ten flashes you a blinding smile and you sigh. By now, you’re about to get kicked out of here so you stand up discreetly while he packs up his stuff. You hug your jacket close to you as soon as you leave, shivering at the evening breeze. The sky is inky, but with a faint sort of ink—deep blue and light, all at once. From the crowd, you can tell classes just got over for quite a few people, eclectic chatter filling up the street.

“Fine. I’ll bring Eunji,” you tell Ten after some contemplation. “And whoever else responds to my text first. Areum never leaves the room. You know that.”

“Thanks, (name)!” he messes up your hair. “I would give you a kiss but someone will end up punching my pretty face.”

You furrow your brows. “Well, you’re not my type anyway.”

“I’m too good for you,” he responds in a sing-song manner, waving at you before running off and disappearing into the university crowd.

There’s always a sort of buzz in the air you can’t quite describe at college parties.

Even if this is a relatively small one, you feel an oncoming headache the moment you enter Ten’s new apartment, which you’re sure had a ‘no parties’ rule in the rental contract. You spot Kun, Ten’s roommate from the dorms and he flashes you a quick smile in greeting before he’s swept up by a doting crowd. Apparently, a cute guy in animal sciences is rare and it makes him rather popular.

Eunji disappears from your side the moment she spots Johnny, and the number of eye rolls you’ve given her haven’t warned her off him yet. You suppose it takes heartbreak to change a person. Sighing, you make your way to the kitchen only to be greeted with the strange sight of Yuta trying to balance Jaehyun on his back so they can imitate some anime formation and back out immediately. Living room, it is, despite its populous space. (You don’t really want to think of bedrooms right now.)

The apartment is quite big for what Ten told you the rent was. The hallway to the two bedrooms is narrow but you suppose something has to be sacrificed for space. You furrow your eyebrows at the two bedroom doors. Ten never said he was getting a roommate. You shrug it off, sitting down on the rather stiff couch. The lack of furniture, apart from the couch and a coffee table, makes the place look even larger and people sparse. You like the beige walls; Ten’s always loved warmer colours but something makes you think he’s going to be ruining them in a few days with garish green paint before he comes crying about that to you.

“Hey.”

You look up to the familiar voice, heart rising to your throat.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Doyoung remarks before sitting down beside you and offering you a cup of god-knows-what.

“I don’t take drinks from strange men,” you say, biting down your smile and crossing your arms.

“If you didn’t take drinks from strange men, we wouldn’t be fu—”

“Doyoung!” you hiss before looking at him with careful suspicion. “Are you drunk?”

“No. A little bit. Not enough.”

You sigh. “How will you get home now?”

“I live here, idiot.”

“You’re- You’re Ten’s roommate?” you sputter.

“Yeah. New one,” he responds. “He used to live across our room in the dorms, I can’t believe I actually agreed to this.”

“I can’t believe it either. I’ve seen cats and dogs friendlier with each other than the two of you.”

Doyoung laughs. “He’s surprisingly one of the better people to room with. I’d rather eat my own blanket than room with Yuta again.”

You laugh at his irked expression, eyebrows furrowed so cutely. The line of his brow bone to nose to lips, it seems a little too perfect to belong to someone. He relaxes his shoulders a little, leaning back on the couch as he looks somewhat lost in thought. (“You think too much,” you’d told him once. “And you think too little.”) If only that were true, you smile to yourself.

“Are you sure you can hold parties here?” you as when the music suddenly rises in volume.

“Well, it said student-friendly,” Doyoung responds, looking visibly disturbed. “Not sure if I want to test the limits of that so early.”

There’s a pause, filled in with loud pop music. You don’t think Ten, your dear introvert, would have agreed to such a party but there’s a chance Johnny or Jaehyun had something to do with this. You don’t know who to suspect when it comes to their group of friends.

“I still can’t believe you’re rooming with Ten.” You look at Doyoung.

“Well, that makes, what, eleven of us, I guess?”

You laugh, feeling conscious all of sudden. Maybe you should listen to Ten’s advice.

“Doyoung,” you call, looking at the cup in your hands a little too passionately. “What’s your major?”

He looks at you with eyes widened ever so slightly, and a pause over his lips.

“Linguistics,” he answers.

“Oh. You said something about it once,” you mumble, recalling something vague about an assignment of his. “You know mine?”

“Yeah,” he answers, eyes cast on his watch.

“Well, that makes me feel a little guilty,” you mumble as softly as you can.

“You should be,” he says. “You never listen to anything I say.”

You scoff. “You just complain most of the time.”

“Really now?”

“Yes,” you snap, looking away.

You look back again when you hear the sound of Doyoung’s laugh, a distinct brightness in it. Sometimes, you wonder if you really are as awful as you’ve made yourself be.

“You’re cute,” he says. “No wonder everyone is so in love with you.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you.

“Everyone?” you laugh. You don’t care about everyone. It’s burdensome.

“Everyone. They hate you too, by the way.” He smiles to himself. “Heard you’re going on a date with that dimwit. Hyungmin.”

You feel a sudden discomfort in your being. Taking a sip of the drink, you try to shake it off as best as you can.

“Yeah, I- I don’t think I’ll go,” you say, waving it off.

Why are you lying? You left it hanging on a maybe. Part of you wants to tell Doyoung; he is your friend after all and you tell friends stuff like this. The other part tells you this is cheating; lying and pretending everything is okay—it feels like cheating.

“Oh.” He looks lost before he focuses on you. “Why not?”

“Why do you care?” you ask, trying desperately to calm the uprising in your chest.

He stays quiet for a few seconds and then shrugs, looking away from you. It makes you feel a little guilty to dismiss the situation so quickly, another item to add to your troubles. You sigh.

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right.” You can see his Adam's apple bob up and down.

“I’m not,” you say. “I’m wrong. I really didn’t mean it.”

He looks at you all at once, his gaze so gentle that it makes you think he wants to kiss you, or do something equally affectionate. Instead he sighs, downing whatever’s left of his drink before a wash of sudden looseness does away with the tension in his body.

“You have any more questions for me?” he asks, smiling. “What's it like to be student body president—or, or what instruments can I play? My favourite animal? Colour?”

You smile back. “What is your favourite animal?”

“I don’t have one. Don’t like them. Unless it’s a soft toy.”

“No way. You’re lying.”

“Now, I answer your questions and you call me a liar? Makes me a little hesitant to answer the next.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, next then. Why didn’t you join the frat? All your friends are in it.”

“Hurts my ego.”

You laugh. He’s still probably an honorary member. There is no way he’s apart from friends for too long with all those feelings of fraternity he has, no matter what he says. It’s the same as you. Affection leads nowhere though; just to short-lived moments of comfort.

You realize, through the course of the night, that you never asked. How he got into the student council, what his classes are, what he does for fun—you never asked. It’s almost like you didn’t want to know.

How sad, you muse to yourself, to be this way. To be so wrapped up in your own problems that you fail to see people around you. Pity, however, isn’t something to feel at a party. You talk with Doyoung for the rest of the night till the sound of his voice makes you feel certain ghosts of butterflies, and till you have to take Eunji home before she does something she regrets. This is what it really means to have the price tag of ‘youth’ strung across you perhaps—when you feel old and immature all at once, and in between, when you feel nothing at all.

Doyoung is too old to mistake love. Or too young.

Labels don’t define anything, especially when it comes to relationships—so even if he calls it love, whispers it to himself at midnight when he’s sitting alone on his bed while his friends are passed out drunk on the floor, it is empty. And then there’s you. The heat of your skin, the curse of your smile and that cheeky laugh you do to get on his nerves. He wants all of it and he’s not ashamed—but he’d be a liar to say he can shout it to the whole world. He’s not that kind of man, and what is his can remain his without the rest of the world prying its damn fingers in. The first night, no, the second—third? He can’t remember which night it was but something pent up in him exploded and he didn’t try to control it for once.

“Ow,” he mutters.

His throat burns from the whiskey. He hates drinking alone but you’re either asleep or with friends and he can’t think of anyone else but you. He tugs at the turtleneck collar, getting uncomfortable by the minute, and then proceeds to take off his coat.

For a moment, he considers getting back to the living room. There were more than enough people with lingering touches against his shoulder and longing gazes—they’re not you. He leans back onto his bed. Another hour and everyone will be gone; why did he even let them hold a party in the first place? Parties just remind him of you—he takes a whiff and smells summer and lemon vodka all of a sudden. A deep sigh leaves his lips.

You might not seem to find yourself especially sad, but Doyoung finds something oddly touching about you. Maybe it’s the way you say his name, he muses, like you’re desperately trying to fill the gaps. But it can’t be him in particular, of course—it’s a lover, any lover.

He hates long nights, just as he hates winter but lately, they haven’t been feeling too cold. Isn’t it ridiculous the way he’s running after you? Doyoung was never meant for this. It’s fucking pathetic and it makes him want to tear all his hair out but there he is, still and quiet in the same place. A certain agony makes its way through him. His hands are freezing and yet his insides are burning—nothing makes sense and right now, he doesn’t want it to. He presses his cold hands to the warmth of his cheeks and a laugh erupts from his mouth.

He must be going crazy to laugh like this in an empty room. The car lights from the window travel slowly from wall to ceiling, the only thing moving in the stagnant of his room.

Inevitably, he thinks of the end. It should come quick; in fact, he’s never been one to do this. He’s always been someone to get attached to people. He doesn’t know how the end will come because this shouldn’t have begun in the first place.

Doyoung’s out of breath.

“Crazy bastard,” he mumbles to himself, followed by a groan when he lifts his head up. As if on cue, the door opens and shuts with a bang. Ten walks in looking drowsy, running his hand through his hair with a disgruntled face.

“I hate to say this,” he slurs. “But you’re right. We can’t have extra furniture and parties. Gotta choose one.”

Ten lays down flat on the bed. “I vote out that ugly ass clock you bought. Why do we need it? We have phones and laptops.”

“It was a gift,” Doyoung mutters.

“Oh. Uh. Actually, someone already, uh—”

“Leave it. We’ll talk about that in the morning.”

Doyoung massages his forehead, groaning at the pain when Ten suddenly decides he’s all up for cuddling.

“Ew,” he says, scooting away from Ten. “Get away from me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Ten whines, trying very hard to pull Doyoung into a hug. Of course, his attempts are blocked by Doyoung’s palm against his forehead.

After a few more seconds of trying, Ten huffs and turns away, crossing his arms. “I don’t like you anyway.”

“I know,” Doyoung mutters.

Ten erupts into laughter, sounding more like a psychopath than a close friend of his.

“You do that every time you like someone?” he asks in between fits.

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “I just said—okay, yeah. Whatever.”

There’s a much needed silence and Doyoung wonders if he can just fall asleep without kicking Ten out.

“You should tell (name),” Ten says all of a sudden, Doyoung’s heart stopping at your name.

“What?” he whispers.

Ten looks at him as though he’s talking to a particularly stupid child. It makes Doyoung scowl but there’s too much alcohol in his system to know if he really means it.

“You don’t- you’re- everyone in this goddamn building knows,” Ten explains, exasperated. “Jaehyun knows, and he’s the densest kid I’ve ever met. God, if you like (name), go for it.”

Doyoung blushes so deep, he considers pressing his palms to his cheeks again. He thinks for the next few moments. Ah well, if they had to find out, he’s glad he didn’t have to declare it himself.

“Whatever, just ask (name) out. It can’t be that complicated.”

Except it is. You don’t have to spell it out for him—he knows the way you feel. The two of you only ever wanted one thing out of this. But if there’s something Doyoung isn’t good at, it’s keeping his mouth shut. He wonders how many times he let it slip, wonders if you even care enough to notice. God, it’s starting to sound pitiful for him.

“Ten. How much did you drink?” Doyoung asks, raising his head.

“Nothing. None. I’m not drunk.” Ten shrugs. “Just sleepy.”

A ‘wow’ is all Doyoung can respond with. He still isn’t quite finished figuring out what sort of horrific planet Ten stumbled from. A notification ding distracts him from kicking Ten off his bed and he has half a mind to toss it onto the bedside table but it’s still half. He softens almost immediately.

It’s a text from you: a ‘u’ followed by a smiley face and then a meme he can’t quite read through hazy eyes. He finds himself smiling anyway and sends a barrage of emojis, whatever he finds because he likes the way you get annoyed at them. Sighing, he decides that’s enough. He’s not in the right state of mind for conversation.

Doyoung shuts his phone off, attempts to push Ten off the bed one last time before closing his eyes and dozing off.

Not every day is meant to be fun—you know that in your twenties—but it’s still somewhat disappointing to have bad days. Like youth is meant to give you some sort of happiness daily. That’s what they make it sound like.

You groan, rubbing at your back. Sitting at your study desk for so long does not have good long term effects. At least, your temporary, meaningless assignments are done. You scowl at the text on your laptop screen; the more you look at it, the more you hate it and so, you shut it off. It’s not like your pissy professor is going to be impressed by anything you do. However, you like the orderly certainty of schoolwork.

Break time consists of guilt and sugary snacks. You’re done with most everything and you suppose leaving the final review of things to a later date can’t hurt. In fact, it sounds rather appeasing. A few more moments pass in making a decision.

You get dressed. The apartment feels eerie all alone, and you’re sure as hell not going to spend the rest of your evening here. You shiver, quickly striding out the front door and locking it before taking out your phone.

People misunderstand winter. Winter is only the end of things; and sometimes, the beginning. It isn’t cruel or crushing, it’s just taking its course. However, you have a tendency to blame seasons for all that happen in it. For instance, you shouldn’t be missing summer when you really miss the first night with Doyoung.

He picks up after calling thrice. You wonder what he’s even up to, if Saturday evenings are also booked full for such a guy.

“Why do you take so long to pick up?” you complain. “Do you not get days off?”

“I’m busy,” he hisses.

Something’s wrong.

You pause, unsure what to do. It’s not his voice but the one in the background that catches your attention.

Inviting him somewhere.

Rather sensually.

Your ears feel hot and you drop the call. Of course. Of fucking course. You’re the idiot thinking it was a thing. This whole thing is casual—feeling sorry wasn’t in the contract. Fucking around was.

It’s not like you’ll be heartbroken by something like this. Of course not. Of course. Doyoung and you never had a beginning so there isn’t an end, really. It’s fine. It’s fine. You take a deep breath and browse through your phone. With the onset of Christmas holidays, you have around three options left. Ten (yikes), Jaehyun (no way) or the latest addition, Hyungmin.

Well, you’re dressed. You have to go somewhere. And your statement about Hyungmin being the hottest guy on campus still stands.

You send two texts to the boy before deciding that’s apparently enough time waiting. He picks up after a few rings, voice groggy from what you assume to be a late afternoon nap.

“You up for a drink?” You cut to the point.

“Uh? Oh, uh, now? I am, of course- I just need—”

“Twenty minutes. I’ll text you the address.”

Nothing cheers you up like your favourite bar. Or friends. Or people who respond to calls.

Hongdae is as busy as ever. You knew the bar would be packed but not this packed. Still, you managed to grab a seat at the bar table. With the oncoming night, the smell is just going to get worse—so there’s nothing wrong with treating yourself to some lemon vodka (and its refreshing scent).

Hyungmin arrives exactly four minutes early, and the mussed up hair makes you think he must have been in a hurry. For what, you can’t be sure.

You can still see the inklings of Hongdae nightlights on his hair right before he enters, and in the fallacy of that moment, you think it’s going to be Doyoung. You sigh. This isn’t the time for that.

“Sorry,” you say, gesturing to the bar table. “All the tables were booked.”

“No, no,” he responds quickly. “I actually prefer it here.”

He’s tall, not that it’s the first time you’re noticing, but even when he’s sitting, he’s at least two heads taller than you are. His shoulders are accentuated by the mocha coat, no doubt part of the latest trend this winter. As a fashion student, he hits the mark and more.

For a moment, you feel bad for knowing his major. Ten let it slip about him and yet still, you feel guilty for remembering it. You’re not supposed to go into unnecessary detail about people that don’t matter. Does he matter?

“Surprised you could make it,” you joke half-heartedly. “Aren’t you lot always busy with something?”

He laughs. “The student council? Oh, we’re busy alright.”

Busy. Right.

“What about you? Aren’t you part of like three different clubs?”

“So what kind of busy?” you ask, ignoring his question. You’re part of two, now that you left the music club last semester. It’s not like small talk matters though.

“Uh,” he hesitates. “You know- attend meetings and events, coordinate committee work, supervise stuff, etcetera etcetera. So busy, yeah.”

“Busy on Saturdays too?” you ask, before thanking the bartender for the drinks.

“Yeah, I guess. Doyoung has it worse than me honestly. Even now, he has to take care of stuff because of me. Hah…”

You gulp down your drink making Hyungmin raise an eyebrow in concern. “Stuff? Because of you?”

“Yeah.” Hyungmin scratches the back of his head. “He’s with the girls.”

“Girls?” you ask, playing with the glass. You’re starting to feel annoyed, red lining your vision.

“Yeah.” He makes no notion of clarifying his statement.

“Must be quite the president,” you say, resting your cheek against your palm.

“Oh, he’s a nightmare.” Hyungmin laughs. “He has to control everything.”

You try to mask your scoff. You know what he can be like when you’re working beside him.

“Oh, and the guy has no sense of humour,” Hyungmin laughs, the sound easy on the ears.

You blink.

“I think he’s funny,” you say quickly. You swear you have no idea why you sound so defensive.

He hums in response and you consider biting your tongue, telling him you’re only here for one thing and forgetting the uncomfortable churning of feelings inside your chest.

“Forget I- I’m a little confused today.”

Is that an acceptable explanation? You can’t think straight enough to decide. The silence on Hyungmin’s part, however, worries you. The crowd around you fills in for the next few moments as your companion seems to debate something with himself.

“Look, I know you and Doyoung are… I don’t know, something.”

You huff in irked amusement. “God, does everyone seem to know?”

“Not until late actually.” Hyungmin takes a gulp. “He’s been acting weird. Doyoung.”

You look away, breathing shallow. You don’t like it, the way things seem to be getting out of hand. All this time, the world seemed to be in the palm of your hand and now, it’s spilling everywhere; the sand in the hourglass is already up to your knees and you don’t know what happens when it fills.

“Do you actually like him?” he asks, leaning back just a little. You know where this is going. “Are you guys dating?”

“No,” you respond, checking your watch.

“Oh.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation in him but you’ve seen that look before. You know that look.

“Then we can- uh- we can—”

“Fuck?” you ask.

He gulps. “I mean, you can say no any time—”

You pull him by the collar and kiss him, hard enough to melt away your hovering thoughts. He kisses like you expect him to, not how you want him to. You know this sort, and somehow, that makes you feel comfortable. Knowing what you’re getting into is easing but it doesn’t lessen the weight of it.

It’s sickening. The way you’re pretending it’s Doyoung.

Hyungmin pulls apart, panting heavily. “Oh, okay.”

“Tell me you drove here.”

He holds up his car keys in response.

You’re not the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men, but it’s better than falling in love with them.

So you follow a lover to a hotel room and try to feel something. Some time, when he’s kissing you against the hotel room walls, he pulls apart and asks, “You’re thinking of someone else, aren’t you?”

You know the answer; it just won’t leave your lips.

“It’s okay,” he says with a weak smile, “Let’s just have fun.”

And every time his mouth was on yours, every time you saw stars, you felt the ghost of Doyoung and his haunting touches. It was strange and unfair and unlike you—or at least, unlike the you that you built over the past few years. You feel as though you’ve misplaced something—like something was supposed to be there when you reached out but instead, it was empty space.

The night ends as it should and you leave right before dawn with an apology text you couldn’t put half your heart into.

Most winter nights, you wake up with pain so profound, it’s seeping into your bones.

It never made sense. You never tried to make sense of it. So you let the aches push you down by the shoulders, lodge itself into your neck and back; and you tell yourself, it must be what you deserve. It’s cold and you’re walking barefoot on frozen ground.

You gasp. The weight of who you are and who you have to be—it has its knee on the back of your neck, shoving you into the damp earth. There’s no particular reason to it; it makes it seem as though it’s insignificant. Unimportant. Irrelevant. But that’s the problem—the weight of the world on your shoulders makes no sense. Whose world are you even carrying? Whose approval are you trying to win? You scramble to get up, messing up your bedsheets in the process, and pull your blanket around you. Your own warmth surrounds you and it makes no difference. You frown.

You remember your phone call with your mom, and your lips tremble. You shouldn’t have told her about how crappy your finals went but it slipped. You tried to explain that you did work for them, that you gave it your best but sometimes things don’t work out. She didn’t have to say it out loud for you to hear her thoughts.

You’re disappointing.

You wipe at your eyes, feeling annoyed at the emotion. If you could let the ground swallow you whole, you would. In a heartbeat. You don’t even know what you’re doing most of the days despite that pretty planner of yours.

You get out of bed, pull on your cardigan beside the bed and grab your lighter and pack. The tiny balcony makes for a great smoking spot and while you would scold any of your friends for committing to this, you do it yourself. Hypocrite.

For all you try to shove into yourself—hobbies, student clubs, actual clubbing, friends—the more you feel less than enough, as if everything just vanishes into thin air inside you. As if you aren’t enough and never will be. You play by the rules and you lose, you break the rules and you lose.

Maybe it’s because you let yourself be filled by the intricacies of other people that they like you. And thus, you cannot stop for fear of loneliness.

Just as you’re feeling crushed again, you picture Doyoung against your back, placing his nose in the crook of your neck—something he has never done—and you wonder why it helps.

Sucking in air too fast, you cough. You shouldn’t have let it go on for so long.

It was fun—harmless fun. You shouldn’t even be thinking of taking a step in some other direction. You’re friends, barely, but you like where you are. If Doyoung was that important, you wouldn’t be going about this all backwards. You sigh, though it comes out jagged. The room is quiet and that’s the way it should be at four a.m, of course, but you crave music all of a sudden. Doyoung and you are just a temporary fix; and you let that thought relax you.

When you think of his chin on your shoulder, however, it feels feather light.

“Why are we doing this?” you ask.

The atmosphere is warm and toasty, just like you expect it to be in a bakery with light pink doors and a collection of plastic potted plants on display. The decorations aren’t an eyesore here and somehow, it makes you feel better. It’s a little far but you decide it’s worth it.

Doyoung shrugs, sipping his hot chocolate. “It’s Christmas, and we’re both here.”

Your eyes follow the hanging lights over the counter, wrapped in pine tree stickers and eventually to the neat display of a ‘Season’s Greetings’ menu, the contents of which are currently at your table. A Christmas song by some singer who’s been popular lately plays, tunes light and dancing. You hate the end of the year solely because of the extra pressure January brings. Nothing you can’t handle, of course. Nothing you can’t handle.

You sigh. It’s been a little difficult lately.

“Doyoung, really, why are we doing this?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Are you- uh- are you not enjoying this? I could—”

“No! No, it’s not that. I feel better, actually.” You bite your tongue almost immediately after. It’s not like he’s supposed to know the sort of hell week you’re having. A poorly received term paper, finals that weren’t up to your expectations, crippling loneliness without friends and, oh, the self-doubt—you are at the lowest you can be in college. The only sweetener right now is in the hot chocolate and the way Doyoung’s looking at you.

You feel something close to guilt.

“Good.” He smiles. “You seemed… You seemed a little down.”

The sliver of warmth between your ribs makes you think this is unreal. It feels uneasy to be so affected by someone but you let it slide, turning back to your hot chocolate.

“Why didn’t you go home this time?” you ask, sipping your drink.

“Oh, I didn't really want to face my parents,” he says before leaning. “Didn’t do too well this semester. And my brother’s going to be there with all his achievements.”

You chuckle in disbelief. “You don’t like your brother?”

“I love him to bits. Just can’t stand my mom’s nagging when he’s around.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” You cross your arms, smiling triumphantly. You feel like children squabbling but it’s so lighthearted, you want to laugh.

Doyoung raises a pointed finger, about to retort but nothing comes out. He puts his hand down.

“I guess you’re right.”

You shake your head. “I’m sure she’s proud of you too.”

“I know that,” he says, laughing. “Of course she is. I don’t keep myself busy for nothing.”

You gulp, a sudden sourness rising at the base of your tongue.

“Busy, huh? Didn’t know spending saturday evenings with girls also counted as busy,” you mutter against the cup, half-hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“What?” There’s a perplexed look across his face.

You wave your hand in dismissal. “Oh don’t mind me.”

“Are you talking about me giving a tour to the fresher girls?” Doyoung leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Hyungmin does that usually but Mr Man was sore from soccer practice and Friday fucking.”

You blink. “Fresher… girls?”

“What, did you think I was at a brothel?” Doyoung laughs in amusement.

You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “No! No, of course not.”

You wave your hands about for a few more seconds, trying to come up with an explanation. This makes things rather embarrassing.

“Sorry,” you say finally. “I jumped to conclusions.”

Doyoung laughs, rather deep and heartily, and you wonder if your apology really did sound as stupid to him as it did to you.

“You do that a lot,” he notes.

“Thanks,” you quip, cutting the pastry with your fork a little too forcefully. His laugh follows. (You hate it so much. It sounds like pure adoration.)

The next few moments consist of scrolling through your phones (because Doyoung says his ‘mouth hurts from talking to you’) and you would’ve been in a better state of mind if everyone wasn’t posting pre-Christmas photos with their families.

“You know they’re opening that park. What’s it called- Winter Wonderland or something. You said you wanted to visit.”

You look up at Doyoung amused.

“Let’s be honest. You want to be in bed, Doyoung,” you say. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care,” he answers, looking at you with his doe eyes. “About you. You sulk when you’re upset.”

“I don’t sulk,” you reply but your smile is obvious when you exit the cafe.

It’s like a date. The more you think of it that way, the more it makes you smile.

The evening is perfect—orange and pink and loving and happy. Doyoung trails behind you as you tread over the sidewalk with cheeky remarks about his speed.

“I’m in the track club, you know?” he huffs, finally tired of your jabs.

“As what, the start point?”

A fake, sarcastic laugh leaves him. “I wouldn’t get to see you if I walked ahead.”

You feel warmth creep up your face. You mumble, “that’s cheesy.” It’s too weak though, and it goes unheard.

For the first time, you notice his eyes are a little like yours in what they reflect. You love them.

So this is where the crowd went. The amusement park, or whatever you call it, is buzzing with a faint sort of excitement, mostly in the children that didn’t get to go on a vacation elsewhere. It’s quite the wonderland though so you can’t see them complaining.

“Do you think they’ll kick us out if we make out on the Ferris wheel?” you ask, smiling at Doyoung.

“I’m not making out with you on the Ferris wheel,” he replies, making a face.

You do end up making out on the Ferris wheel, and you get butterflies from it. It’s like a teenage dream but Doyoung looks even better. You pass on the cotton candy because frankly, you’ve had enough of sweet things. You sit at the frozen wooden seat, hoping it warms up while Doyoung brings the two of you some fries.

Your phone buzzes with a notification. Your eyes light up at the mail from your professor. You had turned in the term paper three days ago, weeks ahead of schedule and were particularly proud of the way it turned out.

You look at the email and zero in on the word ‘redo’.

Your shoulders sag immediately. You spent four weeks on that—and it’s not good enough? You search frantically for how it could have gone wrong and come up with none. That’s not supposed to happen. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong. The week’s exhaustion swallows you up again.

When Doyoung returns, he looks at you concerned before quickly setting the fries on the table.

“(name). Is something wrong?”

“Huh?” Your voice sounds so weak and squeaky, you feel embarrassed. It’s embarrassing that after all these years, you still don’t know how to handle failure.

Because it’s not supposed to happen. You tell yourself that over and over and it makes things worse.

You feel dirty, underneath all that dust and crumbled rock dangling in your hair. Whatever rests on your shoulders is cracking and collapsing, and you’re pushing in the wrong direction to make sure it all stays up.

He reaches out his hand but you avoid it.

“No,” you mutter, weakly shaking your head.

You rub at your nose and eyes, hoping you can hide behind your forearms. Doyoung shouldn’t be seeing you like this, he doesn’t deserve to see you like this. You turn away from him, your palm gently pushing against the soft material of his shirt.

Doyoung doesn’t move. Instead, he gently tugs on your wrist so you have no choice but to face him with your red-rimmed eyes. You’re not sure if it’s embarrassment or pity, but the concern in his eyes makes you cry harder.

“You don’t have to do that,” he whispers. “You don’t have to find a place to cry.”

For the first time in adulthood, you learn what it’s like to lean your forehead against someone’s chest this way. Doyoung wraps his arms around you and the sound of his breathing soothes your near-erratic heart.

“I worked really hard on it, you know?” you mumble against his chest. “My term paper.”

“I know,” he whispers.

Doyoung strokes your head delicately, fingers running through your hair with airy touches. Eventually, you let go of a final sigh and look up to his lips.

He seems surprised at the kiss but it’s all you can think of now. It’s gentler than usual and Doyoung moves cautiously though he seems to like it all the same. His arms feel comfortable around you. When he pulls apart, he looks at you yet still with careful concern.

“We can- we should stop if you want,” he says, and he means it.

You shake your head. Night is creeping in overhead, deep and quiet and slow.

“I like you, Doyoung,” you say finally. “I really, really like you.”

Doyoung’s eyes widen, as though a rabbit wary of the traps it might set foot on but he eases into your touch almost immediately.

“I like… I like you too.” His lips waver but he looks away and takes a deep breath. “I like you so much.”

You smile and think that maybe everything is set right now, with his chin against your shoulder and your arms around him.

Doyoung discards the jacket once you’re in your apartment, kissing you fuller now. Every other thought leaves you; you beg him to make you forget the rest of the world. The walls are comforting now that he’s here, and it’s warmer, hotter.

“Can we- Can we go a little slower?” you mumble, his arms still gentle when they wrap around your waist. He parts his lips from your neck to look at you momentarily before nodding.

You suddenly understand why he always makes you feel so good. There’s a certain fondness to his touch and warmth to his kisses. There’s no one quite like him, really.

“I love digging graves, especially if it’s my own,” you mutter against the pillow.

Doyoung laughs. “What did you do this time?”

“This time? Excuse me? Do you think I’m some sort of trouble child?”

“Hm. Let’s see. Yes.”

You pause. Why do you hesitate to tell him you slept with Hyungmin? It’s not like you were cheating—you weren’t dating Doyoung. Besides, that night with Hyungmin didn’t mean anything. A horrid feeling snakes around your throat, heavy and piercing. You resort to changing the topic.

“I’m… I took another course beyond my understanding.”

“That’s it?” he asks.

You nod.

No, no, no; it’s all backwards now and you don’t know how to reverse it.

Doyoung takes your hand in his, delicately and yet firm. His chest is against your back, bare and warm. When he presses his lips against your knuckles, the warmth that flushes through you makes you want to believe in something else entirely. You feel weak.

A part of you argues that you feel honest—in a moment of clarity you don’t think you deserve. Neither vodka nor whiskey can make you this clear in the head; you struggle to breathe straight. How awful it is to feel warmth and not believe in it at the same time.

“You can rely on me, you know?” he whispers.

The knot in your chest makes you want to cry.

You feel lonely and the opposite of it all at once. Doyoung is too much for you—too kind, too pretty and too true. He makes you realize too many things at once.

There are a few things in the world that can stifle loneliness. Like the notes Doyoung plays on the piano, like the songs he hums in the morning till you place open-mouthed kisses against his neck.

You realize, all of a sudden, that Doyoung really is your dearest friend.

And yet, you don’t think you deserve it. You’ve never loved, you believe, but you have. You don’t remember it well enough. The lovers’ touches you kept searching for led to this. Hypocrite. You wanted a lover’s touch and you rejected the love that came with it. What a complicated bundle of emotions. You weren’t always this way.

You loved your first cat when you were six, all the way till it died a warm death in your bed. You loved your mother even when she yelled at you for skipping your chores. You loved your middle school friends when you talked about comics and movies you saw for the first time.

It’s hard to love the same way now.

You suppose sympathy needs a little backstory. Nothing is unconditional.

It had all started when your heart had broken into two clean pieces. You put a bandaid on it and called it a day. No one taught you to ask for help.

Your friends know someone broke your heart; you tell them everything. Friends, friends—you wanted them so bad and yet, you keep them as far from you as you can. You pretend to be paper-thin and so shallow, sometimes you wonder if that’s all there is to you. But for all they know, they know next to nothing. It wasn’t just the aftermath of reckless puppy love.

The first time your heart broke, it was watching your mother cry in the living room for a reason you didn’t understand. You wondered who committed the crime, who should be charged—and you found no one. A loveless marriage is cruel, yes, but you cannot point fingers. It isn’t just cruel; it’s infuriating.

The second time, the two pieces of your heart broke into a few more. It was a boy with an inviting smile and flags whose colour you couldn’t quite discern. They must have been red, but everything else was too—hearts, cheeks, lips, and the threads around your wrists. And eventually, he guided you to the conclusion that you are undeserving, unworthy, unloved.

You were strong, however. It was easy to collapse on the bed and feel the weight of the world settling in, but you stood up again on shaking knees and you told yourself to have fun; you can have fun without feelings. You know better than to attach meaning to fun—you might hate insignificant things but it’s only fun if it’s pointless. You’re not letting go of this place you’ve worked so hard to arrive at, with all the shattered pieces in your hands.

It’s better to offer nothing at all than offer broken pieces.

“Can we stay like this?” Doyoung’s arms tighten around your waist, his breath shallow against your shoulder. “Just for a little bit.”

His voice is beautiful as always, but for a moment, it strikes you as sad.

Everything’s twisting up into knots and you are frantically running your fingers over them to straighten it all out. You know what it’s like to let things rot; and you are tired of it. Why can’t everything disappear for one moment? Why can’t you just let it be the two of you?

You sigh in response, nodding.

“I might not know what’s happening in there,” he starts, drawing circles on your chest with his finger, touch comfortably light. “But…”

I’m here and I get it.

Is that what he wants to say? You don’t think you’ll get to know. You’re not exactly voicing yourself either.

Stay the night. You want to say it but your lips are frozen.

Instead, you rub your thumb over the back of his hand, fitting into each other as perfect as a lie. You would tell him, you try to convince yourself, if you could say it with enough conviction. There’s no point to saying things that are half-meant, that are true but only just enough. You’re a coward.

And now, this has gotten complicated.

An end.

Tapping his pen against the desk, Doyoung grows increasingly annoyed. The council's next meeting agenda isn’t going to finish writing itself but he can’t bring himself to either. Besides, Ten’s pacing outside his room is starting to get on his nerves.

“Ten!” he yells. “Can you quit it? You’re making too much noise.”

His disapproval is met with silence. For a moment, he spaces out and reflexively thinks of you, only to feel a confusing sort of emotion. It’s normal, he tells himself, and that it’ll sort itself out.

Doyoung feels like a glass box more often than not. If he breaks, who picks up the pieces? Who gets cuts all over their fingers?

‘Whoever breaks him’ should be the answer. But that’s wishful thinking. It’s not that simple.

He’s so see-through that it’s painful. He used to tell Taeyong he’s wrong but he’s never been able to prove it. He is easy. It’s embarrassing.

But then again, part of him likes it when it comes to you. He likes it when you kiss him after a particularly heated disagreement, he likes when you get on his nerves just so he’d fuck you and most of all, he loves the push and pull. Fun is just that. He doesn’t know what he’d do if that heart of his he placed so gingerly into your palms falls and shatters.

The line between hate and love is thin; and he’s enjoying walking it too much.

He has nothing to offer but himself. He laughs at the thought and shakes his head. It’s somewhat dirty, and not just in the sexual sense.

“Ten!” he yells again. “Stop pacing!”

Getting up from his seat, he strides over to his door, swings it open and finds Ten scratching his head and glancing at his phone in repeated action.

“Ten?”

He’s so in a trance that he hasn’t noticed Doyoung. He is the lovable sort of idiot if he ever chooses to be so. Most of the time though, he’s just a smartass.

“Oh, oh no, I’m a bad friend,” Ten mutters to himself, his pacing growing more restless. He scratches the back of his head, eyebrows furrowed and too inside his head to notice Doyoung. He wants to ask but something tells him he shouldn’t.

Turns out, his apprehension isn’t strong enough these days.

“Whose date did you crash?” Doyoung asks, more than annoyed already.

When Ten looks at him, Doyoung feels rather shriveled and freezes on the spot. Call it instinct but Doyoung respects fear and pain. Ten has a mixture of the two, amplified when he looks at Doyoung.

“Doyoung. Hey,” he says, trying to tone down the distress in his voice.

Doyoung still hasn’t recovered from the initial surprise of Ten looking that way.

“Did you fuck up? Did someone fuck up? Why do you look like that?”

Ten sits down on the small couch. “Long story… I guess. Too many details, you- you know? Just—”

“What the fuck happened?”

Ten still can’t look him in the eye. “The group chat’s a little…”

“Ten,” Doyoung snaps. “Cut the crap.”

“No, that’s- that’s what I’m- You’re going to be upset.”

Doyoung straightens, furrowing his brows. “I think I can fucking handle it.”

“You know that date I set up for (name) and Hyungmin?”

“You set that up?”

“(name) slept with Hyungmin.”

Doyoung quietens. The silence seems to make Ten uncomfortable as he shifts in his seat, getting up when Doyoung speaks.

“So?”

Ten blinks. “You’re not upset?”

“Just what kind of loser do you think I am?” Doyoung mutters.

Glass shatters just that easily. Maybe he wanted you to shatter him. Maybe he was already cracking at the edges.

“Doyoung, you don’t have to—”

“Stop,” he exclaims a little louder than he intended. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m a grown man, I can handle shit like this.”

It still hurts though. You lied to him and he let you in. You lied to him. Doyoung sighs, returning to his room with a realization he should have had long ago. His night ends with more deleted drafts than he’s supposed to have and eventually, with increased discomfort, he delegates the job to Park Hyungmin himself with the excuse of sickness.

Doyoung does feel sick. He felt this way once, in highschool, but it had turned to red, hot anger ready to lash at anyone and everyone, spilling from his lips as easy as it was to breathe. And Doyoung can never feel that way towards you. He was different back then too, of course, but you—you’re unlike anyone he’s ever met. He loves the comfort of you, and something like that is hard to come by.

He feels like laughing again but instead he finds tears on his cheeks. Silly boy, he can hear his mother tell him. You don’t give your heart to heartbreakers.

So Doyoung falls asleep to the sound of upbeat music in his earphones, music he hates even just to pass the night. Morning will come and he will have to become stronger. Comfort is fleeting, after all.

With everything said and done, you know very well that if you were to tell someone you love them—genuinely, truly, from the heart—it would be Doyoung. It’s not a sudden realization, like the sky falling apart or a tidal wave crashing against the shore and sweeping away the city. It is like the gentle lapping of water, though, or the way the clouds change shape—natural and anything but alarming. You want to stare at it forever, and you want to believe that’s how it will be forever.

“You told everyone we had sex?” Your voice is boiled to a shout.

Hyungmin looks torn, lips moving but no explanation making its way out. “I- I told my friends, not everyone.”

“And you forgot that your friends talk? Everybody talks, Hyungmin, what were you thinking?”

He sighs before taking a step towards you. “Why are you so angry about it? As far as I remember, you had no trouble talking about whose pants you got into.”

You scoff. “With friends, not the whole campus.”

“That’s exactly what I did!”

You cross your arms, feeling so upset you might cry and unsure as to why. You’re usually good at dealing with stuff like this, keeping things in the right place.

“It’s because of Doyoung, isn’t it?”

You snap your head to Hyungmin. There’s a serene sort of look to him despite his unkempt appearance, and a look of understanding.

“I’m sorry. Really. But if you were so into him, you shouldn’t have called me that evening. It might not matter to me but…”

You broke his heart. All that devotion he had towards you led to this.

“You’re right.” You choke on your words, leaning against the wall. “Fuck… Fucking…”

You turn around, making your way out of the hallway and hope the tears on your cheeks dry faster if you run.

You can’t remember the last time you ran. Your world didn’t need running from, it was right in the palm of your hands. Now that you look back, the world was always on your shoulders and heavy as it can be. Maybe you liked it—the weight. You could’ve shrugged it off any time; you didn’t need all those caging schedules or careful, elegant steps.

No. Atlas couldn’t shrug because his punishment was his existence. To have weight is to have meaning; and that is how you intended to live out your life.

Doyoung makes you see it differently. To love so fully even if it seems cautious—you, who has never loved at all, couldn’t comprehend it. And because he makes you see it differently, the box is now open and all hell is loose.

For once, you don’t want to live in the world you crafted. You want more love, more hurt and you want to open the doors. You don’t mind hell if it’s for him.

You ring the bell to Doyoung and Ten’s apartment and pray the news hasn’t reached him yet. He said he was busy this weekend; maybe he was detached enough from his phone for once. You just want to be the person to tell him. It’s not a perfect apology otherwise.

Doyoung opens the door with pursed lips and cold eyes. There’s a sense of ease over his shoulders and arms but he won’t look at you and panic rises to your throat.

“We’re not fucking tonight, (name),” he says.

“That’s not- That’s not why I’m here.” Your voice is so meek, you wonder what happened.

Doyoung steps back, crossing his arms. He’s still looking at his feet and you feel the urge to reach for his face.

“I wanted to tell you- I… I just—”

“That you’re fucking other people?”

“God, Doyoung, stop with the fucking. I don’t care about that right now.”

“Really?” His voice is so sharp, it digs into your skin. “You were just in it for that. That’s the fun part in your stupid life, isn’t it?”

You feel a sharp pain in your nose and forehead. “You’re- Now that’s- Doyoung. I’m sorry. That’s what I wanted to say.”

“After—” His voice chokes up. “After everything is done? Stop with the excuses and face it for fuck’s sake. You aren’t made to fall in love. That’s why you dance around it all the time.”

Although he says that, he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds defeated.

“It’s not like you aren’t cautious,” you retort, throat feeling heavy. “You said it yourself- you don’t want to care too much.”

“I was wrong,” he says, voice hoarse. “I care about everything more than I’d like to admit. I care about you more than I’d like to admit.”

“The Hyungmin thing didn’t mean anything, okay? You were busy and—”

“So why did you lie?” He strains to not raise his voice. “Of course I knew our little thing didn’t mean shit to you. Why did you pretend it did? Last week, you said- you said—”

“Doyoung, last week- last week I- I wasn’t pretending, I swear.”

“You could’ve just saved yourself the trouble and the dignity.” A short, humorless laugh leaves him.

You feel your lips tremble, the explanation not quite made its way out yet. He looks so innocent like this, rabbit-like eyes watery and full of pain, pure the way they have always been. This is your mistake, isn’t it?

“Doyoung, please,” you manage to say. “That was wrong. I couldn’t clear up my head. Please don’t—”

“No. I was an idiot. Or you see me as one.” He frowns deeper, lips trembling. “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have. We shouldn’t have been at the same fucking party and I shouldn’t have drank so much. You’re- I’m not that kind of person.”

You bite down your lip. “What kind?”

Doyoung laughs, the sound raspy and empty. “The kind to not fall in love with you.”

It damn near breaks your heart to look at him. You have to say something, it shouldn’t end like this. You’re desperate and all you think is that you don’t want it to end at all.

“Please, I thought of you as a friend, that’s why—”

“And this is what you call being a friend?” he cuts you off.

You feel the sting in your eyes and nose, making you turn sharply to the side. You wish he’d just make you cry. It makes you feel the rancid guilt all the more.

“Make Hyungmin your friend for all I care. Let’s stop this.”

You stare at your feet, unable to respond.

“You can have every boy in the world, (name). Don’t come to me.”

“Can you just stop talking about everyone else?” you yell, desperate. “Do I talk about your exes? Seungjae or- or what’s-her-name—”

“That’s different!” He looks distraught, breathing heavily and with a painful red flush over his nose and cheeks. He runs his hand through his hair, tousling it further. “You lied to me, (name). You lied.”

Your cheeks are wet and the look that flashes over Doyoung makes you think he wants to step right out to you. He stays frozen in place, however, looking away to the side.

“Did you notice?” he asks softly. “Even once? How much I cared?”

You can’t answer, letting the tears drip down your face. It’s getting colder and colder.

Doyoung bites down his lip before parting them. “All we did was have sex anyway. So please just- just leave.”

You take a long few moments but nod, hugging your coat closer and stepping out of his apartment. You think you hear Ten’s footsteps but it’s followed by the bang of a door—this is how it ends then.

The line between hate and love is thin; and you are deserving of neither.

You perfect your next semester’s academics, and the next. It still feels empty. You go out to drink with friends and return to a messy bed you sleep in alone. You smile as always and you laugh as always. No one asks you how you are as always. You never needed anyone to ask you how you are.

Ten tries but you push him away. You don’t need to drag in other people into a mess you made. He feels sorry for the whole thing but you tell him it was you that spilled the paint, Ten just handed a dash of it to you.

You were right. You don’t deserve Doyoung. At least, you made it so that you don’t deserve him.

‘It’s better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all’—it still hurts.

Every day is part of a list again. You doodled in some of the pages, when you thought you were starting to fall in love. There’s only a skeleton of it left now. Soon, you’ll let it crumble to dust too.

You tear apart the planner sometime after graduation and cry and curse at yourself for doing that. No one’s good at parting with things they care about. You’re no exception.

It’s December again.

This place is a little strange to visit right after graduating, especially with the memories flashing you by. Johnny said he booked one of the private booths (“A senior’s treat!”) but you feel your steps growing hesitant when you reach the neon signs by the stairs. It spells ‘The Meeting Place’ and smells of cigarettes just like it did the first time.

You stop midway up the stairs. For a moment, you think of Doyoung sitting there and wonder if you’ll ever be able to talk to him again. If you had the chance now, would you take it?

Of course, you wouldn’t. There’s too much to be set right and you can’t do it.

There’s supposed to be the six of you. Johnny mentioned Ten and you know Eunji’s invited too. You saw Jaehyun on the way here, still a student. You sigh. It must be him, the one they failed to mention to you. Kim Doyoung. There’s no one quite like him.

You spot him first. Looking a little forlorn as he gazes absentmindedly to the side, he faces away from you and you get the inevitable urge to run away. It’s a funny feeling.

Your stomach is churning. You don’t want him to see you. Ten babbles on about something to Johnny, smiling like he found candy while clearing his drawers. Eunji looks tired, leaning against Johnny’s shoulder and you wonder if she already drank more than enough shots.

“(name).”

You jump at Jaehyun’s voice from behind you.

“Hey,” you respond, giving him a wide smile.

He hesitates. “Are you okay? Not that you don’t look okay- you look really good actually. I mean, are you and… you know okay?”

“I don’t think so, Jaehyun,” you say and make your way to the booth.

It’s a little cramped for the six of you and Doyoung gets up before you can even greet him. It’s not like you deserve it anyway but it tugs at the wound.

“I’m going to go take a drag,” he mutters.

“You don’t smoke,” you say, looking up.

He stares at you momentarily and you look away. You think Ten and Johnny glance at you with pity but you don’t really care.

“Can I come with you?” you ask, barely a whisper.

“Sure,” he says, to your surprise.

The smoking area is so small, you’re surprised it’s even there. A glass structure overlooking the neighbourhood, there’s barely any light within. The only thing nice is how warm it’s in there.

Doyoung lights his cigarette and then offers to light yours. It’s quiet, the music from inside numbed to the cold doors. You really can’t take it. You stub the barely consumed cigarette and throw it into the bin.

You’d rather just stay quietly in his presence.

“You’re not smoking,” he notes.

“It’s a bad habit.” You look out through the glass.

Doyoung chuckles. “You were a collection of bad habits.”

“And good ones too,” you quip. “I was a perfect student. I was perfect in most everything actually.”

Doyoung’s smile widens. “You were. You certainly were.”

A few more moments pass in silence, your eyes traveling over the outside scenery which seems to be growing duller by the second. City lights have never felt fainter.

“It was an accident, right?” You say suddenly. “The whole thing? Us?”

Doyoung hums. “Yeah. I fell in love by accident.”

You smile weakly. “Right. I never got to apologize.”

“I loved you on purpose.”

You look up at him. There’s not a lot of people who say what they mean. He looks the same as he used to under your grey blankets, with a warm blush over his cheeks and kind, wide eyes.

“You’re so damn pretty,” he murmurs, “even now.”

You scan his face for signs of lying.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” you ask finally.

Doyoung blinks before easing into laughter. “You- You’re- You’re the same as ever.”

You let yourself crack a smile.

“Doyoung I- I really am sorry,” you say quietly. “And I did- do care for you.”

Doyoung stubs out his cigarette and discards it before looking you in the eye. You notice he’s wearing his favourite black turtleneck in the proximity, the grey plaid coat covering most of it. You really liked that look on him.

“I’m sorry,” you say once again. “I want you to know that. I didn’t want to hurt you and I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

You mean it. You’re never going to hold glass again. He doesn’t deserve it.

“That’s a problem,” he responds, breath mingling with yours. “I want you… I want you to hurt me. If you really do love me, I’ll take it.”

“Doyoung,” you whisper, turning away despite your whole body screaming at you to give in. “I meant it. I can’t hurt you.”

Doyoung cups your cheek with one hand, glancing at your lips for a moment.

“You’re warm,” he says.

He’s warmer.

“I want to kiss you,” he says.

You want to kiss him too.

“We went about this all wrong, didn’t we?” he asks.

“We did,” you answer, voice barely above a whisper. “I did.”

Doyoung pulls back. “Then let’s start again. I’m Kim Doyoung, I majored in linguistics. I was student council president and I made a mistake.”

You smile. “We don’t have to do that.”

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “After all the trouble I went through to make a good introduction?”

The two of you laugh, and it gets warmer.

“I’m (name),” you say. “I was a top student and I made a bigger mistake, Kim Doyoung.”

“Oh? I wonder what it was.”

“Kind of a long story.”

“I’ve got all the time for you.”

You smile and start. He responds with gentle kisses. You’re piecing your world back together again; but this time it’s feather-light and fits right in the palm of your hand.

2K notes · View notes

egcdeath · 3 years

Text

second chances

pairing: softdark!steve rogers x reader

summary: you wake up on the side of the road with no memories, no possessions, and no place to go. luckily, an attractive stranger arrives just in time to help you out.

word count: 4.6k

warnings: there are some soft moments, but this is ultimately a dark fic!!! alluding to kidnapping, deceit, mention of knife, drugging, abuse (mostly mental/emotional, but implied physical), amnesia, brief alcohol mention, nightmares, mention of bodily harm, bed sharing **if i’m missing any warnings, let me know

author’s note: this is my first dark fic without a dark reader, so please be nice! it took me nearly a whole month to get it where i want it to be (i’m a slow writer, i know) but i’m actually pretty proud of this.

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

After what seemed like years of waiting, the opportunity finally lent itself, a small pocket knife sat right in your peripheral view. A dangerous mixture of adrenaline and impulse filled you, not even granting you the time to think before you were clumsily extending your arm, and wielding the knife.

The blade popped out, and you held it with a shaky hand in front of your captor.

“Really?” he scoffed, “you’re gonna kill me.”

There was no attempt on his part to stop you, in fact, he smiled and leaned back slightly.

Your whole body trembled at this point, you could barely form words, let alone move. But this was your chance.

“So do it, Y/N. Kill me,” his voice steadily rose as he approached you, long legs making their way across the room.

Before you knew it, he was standing in front of you, hand approaching your own. He wrapped it around your wrist and gripped down on you like a snake, causing you to emit a tiny yelp.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked, voice steady as your hands trembled around the grip.

“Exactly. You’re still as fucking pathetic as you were the day I met you,” a slap stung your left cheek, a mark that was sure to be there for the days following.

The knife clattered as it hit the linoleum floor, and you followed its path, crumbling on the floor and breaking into tear-less sobs.

“Remember this moment, sweetheart. You’ll never get a chance like this again,” he swooped up the knife before walking away from you, leaving a broken woman in his wake.

——

You went from experiencing nothing to everything all at once. Your brain seemed to be attempting to escape your head as it pressed against your eyes, and you struggled to open them, lashes feeling like they were glued together. Rain poured down on your head, and you concluded that it had been pouring on you for a while, as you were completely soaked to the bone.

As you looked at yourself and your body, a curled up and bruised mess on the side of the road, you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly happened to you, or at all. You weren’t even sure that you had memories apart from the ones that were processing in that exact moment. It was as if you’d exited the womb for a second time, clueless to where you were, who you are, or how you got there.

You shivered as you pulled yourself to your feet, weak ankles shaking in glittery heels and body trembling in a half-torn dress. Wherever you came from couldn’t have been good.

You slipped off the shoes and held them in your hands as you walked down the side of the deserted road, bare feet sloshing in mud as you did so. You didn’t have an idea where you were, or where the nearest sign of life was. You were tempted to walk on the soaked, petrichor scented road, but you knew that that wasn’t your best idea.

You truly had no good options. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. No one to save you. You wanted to collapse back onto the ground, give into your screaming body that was becoming more and more tired by the moment. Hot tears began to slip down your face, contrasting the cold of the raindrops falling onto your body.

All hope was lost, you’d die any time now, and that would just be it. You looked up at the overcast sky and screamed at it, mentally begging for someone, anyone, to help. That you’d forever be grateful to god, or the universe, or whatever it was that was out there that put you in the situation you were in.

You screamed and sobbed until your throat was raw, and you weren’t sure you’d be able to produce any more sound, sitting down onto the damp ground and wishing for your inevitable death to be a swift and painless one.

Yet, your pity party was crashed just moments later by a beaming red light and the soft hum of a motor coming down the road. This was your one chance. Who knew when the next time you’d see a sign of human life was?

You jumped to your feet and waved your hands like a madwoman, trying to catch the attention of the male behind the driver's seat. He began to come to a stop, pulling over a bit to see you better.

His face was angelic, a strong jaw and soft eyes that looked like they had seen more than the average person. When he spoke, you felt heaven become drowsy with harmony. Or maybe you were just really tired. Regardless, your pleas to a higher power had proved fruitful, as your knight and shining armor had just pulled up beside you to save the day.

He rolled a window down, and you got closer to the door.

“Need a ride, ma’am?” he called.

You simply nodded and approached the vehicle, opening the door hesitantly. You sat down on the seat, and jumped a bit when you felt heat radiating onto the back of your thighs.

“I’m Steve. You?”

You chuckled awkwardly, “that’s a great question that I wish I could answer. It’s actually kind of a long story. Well, I assume it’s long since I can’t remember any of it. But maybe I will later. Nice to meet you anyway, Steve.”

He nodded understandingly, completely unfazed by your lack of name. Maybe he had prior experience with hitchhikers, as he was approaching this situation with a nearly suspicious calmness. “Well… where’re you heading?” the man asked, looking over at you.

“I, uh, I have no idea,” you said raspily, throat still sore from your previous screaming.

The blonde’s lip quirked at this, as if he were holding back a much bigger smile, “that’s fine. I’m heading a few towns away, but I was thinking of stopping and getting some breakfast. You interested in that?”

You shrugged, becoming slightly uncomfortable in the quickly dampening seat. Steve glanced over at you after putting the car in drive, and noticed your discomfort from your prior stay in the rain.

“We can stop by a bathroom first. I’ve got some extra clothes with me in the back,” he suggested. You nodded quietly, looking at the vast, and empty road ahead.

----

You sat in a diner booth dressed in a thick jacket and comfortable sweatpants that oddly enough, seemed to be exactly your size. Steve approached the table with an extra plate of fries, and set it gently in front of you.

“So you don’t remember anything?” he asked, stealing a fry before sitting down across from you.

You shook your head, bringing a salty fry to your mouth, “I swear I just woke up there. No memories, no nothing, no place to go. I mean, I was gonna die out there if you didn’t get me.”

Steve scoffed a bit at this, “that’s not true. I’m sure someone would’ve helped eventually.”

“Maybe. But I’m glad that it was you,” you looked up at him, and the fondness he was looking at you with was nearly suffocating.

Steve paused for a moment, mulling over his next words as if he was looking for the exact right thing to say.

“Would you like to stay with me? I mean, I know we just met each other, but I just have this feeling. Like I was meant to find you. Besides, it doesn’t seem like you have anywhere else to go.”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you excused after a moment, popping out of the both and heading towards the ladies room.

You handled your business, and stared at yourself in the mirror as you washed your hands. Makeup ran down your face, and it almost appeared that you were melting. Who would pick someone up in such a state? You had to question this Steve guy’s character a little bit. You couldn’t remember the exact phrase, but it couldn’t be smart to get into a car with a stranger. Especially a stranger offering to take you to some secret location with them. After all, he could be a murderer, a kidnapper, or a rapist. You would be none the wiser.

But he fed you, clothed you, and offered you a form of shelter. He couldn’t be too ill intentioned if he was willing to go out of his way to help, right? Maybe he just wanted to keep you off the streets, and that was why he was willing to take you to wherever it was that he was going.

Your stomach turned the longer you watched yourself, the longer you thought. Perhaps your intuition found that something was off. But who even knew if you could trust your intuition, after all, you were basically a day old, and you didn’t seem to have any other option.

——

You ended up going back out into the diner and accepting Steve’s offer. You didn’t really have much of a choice, and he wasn’t exactly a bad one.

Steve was quiet for the majority of your trip, only speaking when he noticed that you’d moved your sights from the window over to him. He didn’t seem to be a fan of the way you were studying him, but for some reason your eyes kept finding him.

Hours had passed in the day, and night was quickly approaching. You dozed as you watched the starry night from the passenger window. Your eyes were becoming heavier by the moment, hours worth of watching flat landscape, combined with the complexity of your day finally catching up to you.

——

Cold. You felt cold. The floor was cold. The blood running through your veins was cold. Your brain was cold and freezing, hindering you from properly processing what was going on in front of you.

A searing pain rolled through your body as you tumbled down the stairs, back into a room that was suffocatingly familiar.

“I should’ve never allowed you to leave. Ungrateful,” a faceless man followed you down the stairs and hovered over your now battered body. “I give you a home and you complain. I take care of you, giving you almost anything you could ever ask for. You complain. Do you know how many people would kill to be in your position? With someone like me taking care of them?”

“You told me you loved me, you goddamn liar. I let you come upstairs, and you try to fucking kill me. I should kill you,” he seethed, leaning down over you.

But I won’t.

The words were unspoken, but familiar. A threat uttered to you before, usually followed with an ‘I’ll make your life a living hell instead.’

You were unable to speak, as if someone had ripped out your vocal cords. Suddenly the faceless man was reaching down and holding the bloody organs in his hands. Your blood ran cold once again.

“You can’t even fathom the hell I want to release on you right now,” he continued, chest puffing out with exaggerated, angered breaths. “But I’ll be the bigger man. Because I love you,” he dropped the cords on the ground beside you, and your eyes flicked over to the mutilated part of yourself. “Y/N, I need you to prove to me that you love me.”

You wanted to beg, to plead and tell the man whatever he needed to hear in order to release you, but you were completely powerless.

The man hoisted you up with ease, and you soundlessly whimpered. He carried you into a small, plain room and set you on the flat, stiff mattress on the floor.

“Come on, Sweetheart. You know I’m doing this for us.”

The faceless man kissed your forehead, and the feeling of dread overtook you.

——

You awoke with a gasp, clawing at your own neck to make sure that your vocal cords were still intact.

“You alright?” Steve asked, glancing over at you. “Should I pull over?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” you whispered.

“Take some deep breaths for me, okay?” he advised, setting a reassuring hand on top of yours. “We’ll be at the hotel any minute now.”

——

Your nerves were absolutely fried by the nightmare. Your hands shook like leaves in the wind while you stood next to Steve as he checked you into your hotel room.

“How’re you doing?” he asked in the elevator, setting his large hand on top of yours once again. The gesture was calming, even if you felt a slight undermining feeling of something unsettling.

“A little better. I probably just need to lay down somewhere comfortable.”

Steve nodded and squeezed your hand, “you’ve had a long day. You have first dibs on the shower. Maybe it’ll help you relax.”

The smile that Steve was giving you was comforting. You felt glad that he was the person to have picked you up.

The elevator made a little ding noise before the doors opened, and he guided you to your room.

You made a beeline to the shower, not even taking the time to be impressed with the size of the hotel room, the amenities, or the quality of it. You just wanted to shed your clothes and find at least a moment of peace.

You exited the bathroom after about a half an hour, and walked out into the suite in just a towel.

“Can I borrow some more clothes?” you glanced over at Steve, who was openly checking you out from the comfort of the bed.

Wait, the bed.

There were way too many things going on for you to be focused on the fact that there was just one bed. Maybe Steve would offer to sleep on the sofa.

“Yeah, that’s fine. My teammate left some clothes in that smaller blue suitcase. It’ll probably fit,” Steve paused for a few moments as you found the aforementioned suitcase and looked for something comfortable that you could actually sleep in.

“Who did that to you?” he asked, gesturing at your bruised legs.

“I don’t… I don’t know. It’s all so blurry,” you sighed, settling on a fresh pair of sweatpants and a thin t-shirt. “I’ll be right back.”

You changed quickly in the residually steamy bathroom, and sat down at the foot of the bed.

“Do we need to have a fistfight over who gets to sleep in the bed?” Steve joked and you shook your head.

“I can sleep on the sofa, if you want.”

“No way. You deserve something comfortable,” he got out of bed, and approached the bathroom to take his own shower. “Get nice and cozy, friend. You deserve it.”

He disappeared into the bathroom, and you moved up to the top of the bed, slipping under the covers and sighing aloud from relief. Your body was finally having a chance to relax, and the hotel bed was surprisingly comfortable.

By the time Steve returned from the shower, you were already half asleep, and very unaware of your surroundings.

As you fell out of consciousness, you had blurry visions of confinement, punishments, and pain. You once again woke up with a gasp, but this time Steve was standing over you.

“Deep breaths, okay? I saw you thrashing and mumbling something to yourself. I think you were having a bad dream.”

You nodded and panted, trying to catch your breath and slow down your hummingbird heart rate.

“You’re safe, I promise.”

“Can you stay with me?” you stammered out.

“Yeah, of course,” Steve got into bed beside you, and rubbed your back as you curled into a fetal position, “just try to relax, okay? There isn’t anything to fear when I’m here with you.”

You nodded, clutching onto Steve’s genuine tone. Something about him just made you feel… safe, despite the possible red flags around him.

After Steve got into bed with you, you were finally able to fall into a dreamless and peaceful sleep.

——

You woke up to an empty and cold bed. You blinked a few times and looked around the room, eyes stopping on Steve as he watched you from the couch, eyes quickly flipping between yourself and the book in his hands in an effort to cover up his staring.

The whole ordeal made you feel slightly off, but the realization that you were essentially mooching off a stranger felt worse.

You hopped out of bed and anxiously paced towards the bathroom. “Shit, Steve,” you muttered. “I shouldn’t be taking advantage of you like this. I should probably leave.”

“Where else do you have to go?” Steve almost defensively questioned, frown deep on his face.

You took a deep sigh and shrugged, “I… don’t know. I’ll figure it out.”

“You don’t have to go,” he began, sounding unsure in his words, “stay. With me,” he stood up and walked over to you, grabbing the back of your arm softly. “You’re not taking advantage of me. If anything, you’re helping me. I get pretty lonely on these kinds of missions, so please, stay with me.”

You turned to look at Steve, the deep creases in his face at the thought of losing you. With just a glance, you knew that you couldn’t leave.

——

The next few days of your life had proved your theory. It was almost alarming how quickly Steve became your anchor in the midst of a new, overwhelming world.

The first thing that he did for you was tell you what your name was. As confused as you were to how exactly he figured it out, (he told you that he knew some weird tech guy. You were prepared to go with anything), you were grateful that Steve was able to help you out a piece of your old life back together.

He was oddly patient with you as you learned more and more about your surroundings. You were most impressed by the grocery store, and may or may not have spent hours inside of that food palace, spending much more of Steve’s money than was socially acceptable.

For the next few months, you stayed at a safe house with Steve, spending the majority of your time looking down at your reflection in the lake in the backyard, wondering if your memories could ever come back.

You’d grown closer with Steve in that time as well, he was really the only person that you’d gotten close with since you’d lost your memories. Now that you were thinking about it, you hadn’t said more than three sentences to anyone else. By that measurement, your next closest friend was a gas station cashier.

In fact, you’d started dating Steve. Granted, you couldn’t completely wrap your mind around it all, despite the hours of rom-coms you’d watched while Steve was gone on missions. You just knew that you cared a lot about Steve. When he was around you, your heart fluttered. He was the only person you truly felt comfortable with. He protected you time after time, and voiced to you just how much he adored you.

It made you feel wanted, to know that despite all of the confusion, you still had a place in this world, even if the place was just Steve Rogers’ heart.

——

Steve arrived at the safe house late at night after nearly a week of being off on another mission. The bed creaked as he got into bed with you, and pressed up against your sleeping form.

“Steve, sometimes I have these really awful dreams. Mostly when you’re not with me,” you began out of the blue as his arms snaked around you. “It’s always this faceless man just… abusing me. And I can’t even do anything about it because I’m too weak. And I can’t say anything because he stole my vocal cords. It sounds so silly, because it’s all just a dream, but it all feels so real. I just... I need you to promise me that you’ll protect me no matter what. Especially against him.”

“Of course,” he whispered against the back of your head, “I promise that I’ll protect you from him. He’ll never even get the chance to let the thought cross his mind.”

“I love you, Steve,” you mumbled sleepily, “please never leave me again.”

He’d been waiting to hear those words.

——

Your fingers wrapped around a warm mug while Steve put the finishing touches on your breakfast. He’d decided to go all out that morning, with an impressive spread of food that would put most buffets to shame. For a moment, you questioned if you’d forgotten about some important holiday, or an anniversary.

Steve set a plate down in front of you, then pressed a soft peck to your forehead, “enjoy, sweetheart.”

You grinned softly down at the food, and at the affection, “what’s got you in such a good mood?”

“Just relieved to be back. I don’t like being away from you for too long,” he settled into the seat across from you, and took a sip of his own coffee.

“Mm, you sure? You’re not always this chipper post mission.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head just the slightest bit, “alright. You got me. I wanted to save it as a surprise, but I hate keeping secrets from you,” Steve paused.

“So… what’s the secret?” you pressed, bringing a forkful of food up to your mouth.

“I’m retiring.”

Your eyes widened as you heard the news, and you nearly choked, “are you really?”

Steve simply nodded, “I’m ready for the next chapter of my life with you.”

Your heart fluttered at the sweetness of his gesture, and the slightest hint of nerves. Why was Steve so willing to give up his entire livelihood for someone he knew for less than a year?

You felt bad for questioning his motives, considering that Steve had been nothing but good to you in the time that you knew him. If it wasn’t for him, you probably wouldn’t even be alive. He had proved himself to be an amazing, loving man, who had bent over backwards to keep you safe and comfortable. He trusted you, and it was time for you to do the same.

“I’ve been plotting this for a while, to be honest. You might think this is a little fast, but I even have a permanent place for us to stay.”

You couldn’t find it in you to be skeptical for much longer, your feelings of adoration for Steve overruling your hesitance to jump into something like that with him.

You smiled softly as Steve spoke, getting up and pacing over to where he was seated so you could give him a hug, “I.. yes, that’s fast, but it’s also kinda amazing,” you sighed softly, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “When are we leaving?”

“Tonight, if that’s alright with you. I was thinking that we could spend the day packing up and… celebrating,” he winked down at you, and you looked up to shake your head fondly.

“That sounds like a plan,” you gazed at him with adoration, and leaned up to press a soft peck to his lips that was lovingly reciprocated.

——

Music pounded against your eardrums as you ground against a handsome stranger, one you couldn’t see, but instinctively knew. The smell of sweat, liquor, and sex filled your nose, the rancid combination oddly comforting in a retrospective moment.

“We’re leaving!” A voice you hadn’t heard in what felt like years informed you. Your face broke into a wide grin when you heard her voice. “But it doesn’t look like you care!” she jeered. “Good luck!” your friend laughed, disappearing in the sea of people.

“You’re coming home with me, right?” he asked, a hot breath against your cheek.

You nodded. The words refused to come out.

“Good,” he confirmed, pressing a kiss to your neck.

Out of the blue, you weren’t in the club, but in the small basement room from before, staring at nothing in particular while sat at the edge of your vanity’s seat.

“I’ve tried everything with you,” he commented, leaning against the doorway casually. You felt the need to apologize, to tell your captor that you didn’t mean to do what you did, that you loved him. Plead for him not to punish you. “After months of submission, I thought that we were finally getting somewhere. Why’d you have to throw it all away?”

Glancing up at the vanity, a woman with sunken eyes, a pained expression, and fading bruises looked back at you, just long enough for you to briefly become that messy, drunken woman at the club once again.

“I’ve tried everything with you. The easy way clearly didn’t work,” he continued, “you leave me with no other options, my love,” the man sighed, sitting down next to you casually. “I want you to know that I’m doing this for us. You know that nothing good ever comes easy, right?”

The syringe went into your arm like a hot knife through butter, and your muscles clenched as fire filled your body. You went to scream, but your throat was still out of commission. As you went down, your vision and thoughts began to blur before you couldn’t decipher one thing or another. The final noise you could make out was the distortedly slow rendition of It’s Been a Long, Long Time on the record player.

In an out-of-body moment, you watched as the man pulled your relaxed body down to the floor, cautiously pulling the clothes off of you and making you cringe internally at the sight of yourself in such a state. He left your body alone for a moment as he looked through the negligible amount of clothing in your closet, grabbing the same dress from the night at the club and pulling it on your limp figure.

It was torn and messy, not unlike the state it was in when you found yourself conscious. The faceless man muttered something unintelligible to himself before hoisting you up bridal style and taking your body out to the car.

You watched in terror as this all played out, your slack face looking disturbingly at peace compared to how you’d appeared before. In fact, even in your ghastly state, you felt at peace.

That peace quickly came to an end as you watched yourself get ditched on the side of the road, and as your body slowly began to twitch back to consciousness, your dream began to fade away.

——

You dragged your suitcase up through the garage, grateful to be at your final destination with the man you’d fallen in love with. You hoped that after moving in, the dreams might finally stop. After all, your dream in the car felt somewhat final. You were trying your best to be as positive as you could manage in such a strange situation, and from the outside, you had to admit that the house was gorgeous.

Stepping inside felt like the worst case of deja vu you’d ever experienced, as if your memories were repairing themself with every millisecond you were in the home, gazing at furniture you hadn’t seen in months, and smelling faint scents that you’d forgotten existed. Feature by feature, the puzzle pieces of the faceless man came together.

The longer you observed, the worse the feeling became. Waves of grief, fear, and pain were rolling over you again and again until you were completely drowning on it. The realization hit you with a ton of bricks: this was the house from your dreams.

Steve came up behind you, snapping you out of your panicked trance. He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and squeezed you close to him.

“Ready for the first day of the rest of your life?”

#dark!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #chris evans x reader #dark!steve rogers x you #captain america x reader #avengers fanfiction #dark fanfiction #chris evans x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers angst #captain america x you #soft!dark steve rogers x reader #softdark!steve rogers x reader

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writingonsaturn · 3 years

Text

Better Unsaid

a/n okay this has been all over the place!! it was originally going to be a blurb and darker and closer to smutty (so keep your eyes out for that??? lol), but then I made it softer and the concept got away from me and it got soooo much longer than expected lmao and i still dont love where it ended so maybe part 2?? i have the idea i just dont know lol

summary: Reader is a princess and Anakin has been her guard during the most public season for the past two years (not the most logical thing but just go with it lol, it gets explained better in the fic) and after a near death experience the two are conveniently forced into a....

ONE BED TROPE ONE BED TROPE *cough cough* ONE BED TROPE WITH ONE PERSON HAVING TO WAKE UP THE OTHER BC THEYRE HAVING A NIGHTMARE,, :)))))))

His smugness is the only thing about him I can consider ‘ugly’. And because I am so desperate to not have feeling for Anakin, the Jedi who has been assigned to protect me through coronation season (which lasts for most of winter), for the last two coronation seasons, I hold onto my distaste for that side of him. Which is why I suppress my laugh as he waits for my reaction with that confident smile.

“Come on, that was funny.”

Rolling my eyes, I let myself sit on my bed. I can’t tell if he’s actually funny or if my evening has been so boring that his sense of humor has started to become appealing to me due to comparison. In short, the suitor I was forced to spend an entire evening with lacked personality so much I’m starting to find Anakin funny.

“You’re much more entertaining than this evening’s suitor.”

Anakin’s expression shifts slightly, his assured grin dropping slightly. “Another miss?”

“You have no idea.” I relax slightly, taking a moment to be glad that I completed my father’s request and now I can just enjoy the time I have with Anakin. “I know my father’s desperate to make sure my marriage is useful for our people and that he worries about this selection process because he always thought my mother would be here to help, but sometimes I wish he wouldn’t rush it so much. It feels like all he wants me for is to marry me off in exchange of finance or weaponry or something diplomatic.”

“You’re more than that.” His response is so soft I think I might have missed it if I needed it less. I curse myself for feeling so validated by him. His words shouldn’t mean anything to me. After all, he could easily just be saying that because agreeing with my father will just make me more unpleasant to be around.

I smile politely while avoiding his eyes. I keep my hands on either side of me, fighting the urge to fidget. “Thank you, Anakin.” My words sound weak in my own ears, so I’m sure he notices my shift in mood. “I’m tired today, I think I’m going to go to bed early.” Normally, I’d be able to shrug off these kinds of things, but the beginning of Coronation Season makes me irritable. The anniversary of my mother’s death hits me harder each year.

“Y/n.” My name comes out so velvety I can’t find it in myself to interrupt him. “You are more than someone meant to be used as some kind of royal currency, and I mean that as more than just a...friend.”

I let his last word linger. We’ve tried so many titles that never seem to fit right. He’s the chosen one, one of the most powerful Jedi to exist, and the Jedi assigned to protect me each Coronation Season because that’s when my mother was assassinated. He’s my guard, but we’ve spent too many nights laughing together and talking about everything and anything. And I guess now he’s my friend, even though sometimes when he looks at me in a certain way or sits too close to me or reaches for my hand to guide me somewhere I can’t breathe right.

“Anakin, you know I love when you’re here, even though sometimes you drive me insane. And I appreciate your kindness, but your words can’t change the truth. That’s how my father sees me and he’s not exactly wrong. I’m not a son, I haven’t been raised to lead an army or lead much, and--”

“I’ve seen you in meeting after meeting, convention after convention. I’ve witnessed the way you handle real problems and I know how you care about your people. You’d make a great leader, you don’t need a husband to be valuable.”

My chest swells, feelings I never let myself think about mixing with thoughts of Anakin that I’ve spent so long trying to avoid. “That settles it, you’re my favorite person.”

He grins, the look warm enough to melt the odd lump in my throat. I fight down a smile as he steps forward. “And I wasn’t before?”

“I take it back--your head’s big enough without the additional praise.”

Rolling my eyes, I lean back slightly in order to recreate the distance he so easily destroyed. “And I thought you had finally warmed up to me, princess.”

The use of my title makes me skeptical. The last time Anakin used it was when he was trying to ease me so that I’d walk around the palace garden so he had an excuse to do the same. It was beyond late and I was half asleep, but he had os much energy he was desperate and just needed to do one more thing. I felt bad that his schedule revolved so heavily around mine (and when he softens his eyes and says please, I’m left incapable of saying the word ‘no’) so I agreed.

“What do you want?”

Anakin dramatically clutches a hand over his heart. He throws his head back slightly as if he’s just taken a fatal blow. “When did you turn so cynical? I’ve been back for three days and I’m starting to believe you’re a different person now.”

Yeah...he’s definitely getting ready to ask for something that’s more trouble than it’s worth. Then again, everything with him seems to be worth it in some capacity. Even if it’s just that one smile he gets when he’s truly content and doesn’t think anyone’s looking.

“Mhm,” I mumble, still fighting a grin, “so you’re not going to ask me anything?”

His lips part slightly as he exhales. I watch the way his eyes narrow at my victorious expression. “I don’t have anything to ask of you, but I do have a small request. A request so small you won’t have to do anything but say yes.”

Suspicious. Too easy. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You just said I was your favorite person. Remember that.”

I’m too tired for his coyness. I’d rather him make his ridiculous request now so that I can be in bed within the hour. Though I can’t pretend I don’t normally feel better after letting him drag me along on whatever ‘adventure’ he just needed to complete while also not letting me out of his sight. I used to tell him that I wouldn’t tell anyone if I wasn’t under supervision for an hour or two a day, but he dismissed the idea immediately. That’s been the cornerstone of everything.

“What is it?”

He sighs once, tilting his head slightly. The way his eyes soften tells me he’s already won at least half the battle. “They still haven’t caught the attempted--” Anakin pauses, something behind his eyes darkening. I know what he’s remembering. Last night, an assassin had gotten closer than they ever had. I had almost been shot in the garden, Anakin had barely pushed me to the ground in time. A fact he’s been beating himself up for since, especially considering that no one has been able to find my attempted killer yet. “They were so close to you. They were within palace limits and they disappeared like they never existed. Who’s to say they don’t work here and are waiting for the next moment you’re exposed? Who’s to say they aren’t here tonight, waiting for me to retire for the night?”

I didn’t realize how my near death experience had been so personal to him. He, like everyone else, was beyond frantic after it happened. But my father put an end to verbal worry before it could truly begin. He said the best thing we could do was act like everything was fine as the assailant was searched for. Anakin hadn’t been particularly cheery after my father instructed the guards to focus their search on known enemies instead of prioritizing venting the staff closest to me. I comforted him as best as I could, but he didn’t feel like speaking about it and I had to worry about the suitor meeting my father wouldn’t let me cancel.

“Anakin, you’re right next door to me.” I have to fight the urge to reach for him. “I was fine because of you, and I will be fine because of you.”

He sighs once, his expression not easing. “And if the person is silent? The attacker could easily work in the palace, but no one wanted to direct the search inwards.” His words are more strained than I’ve ever heard them be. “I think it’d be smart for me to stay in here. I know you’ve refused having a guard stay in your room or outside your door, but...” Anakin sighs. “Your safety would be more assured.”

Him staying in my room? The only line I’ve ever been allowed to draw, and I’m actually considering letting that go. If he seemed even slightly less sad, I wouldn’t even consider it. It’s not a good idea. I’m already too attached to him. “Anakin--”

“I’d feel more assured.”

Damn him. Stupid, extremely sweet Anakin who makes saying no to him impossible. I stretch my arm forward, letting my hand squeezes his forearm gently. “There’s no reason to not feel assured.” He doesn’t ease, the cloudiness behind his eyes remains stubborn. “You’re still worried.” No reaction, the haze that’s taken him isn’t letting go. “Fine--but tell no one or my father is going to take to posting guards at my door every night.”

...I guess there are worse ways to spend a night. Which is kind of a problem since I’m trying to...enjoy Anakin less. Ugh, I even sound dumb in my head. “I promise, princess.”

Ugh, he’s adorable. “You’re intolerable.” I stand from he foot of my bed and pull back the covers on my bed. He doesn’t reply, something dark still playing for him. I watch him move to face the door. Wait--is he doing what I think he’s doing? “No, you’re not going to stand there all night. You need sleep.” He has the audacity to give me an annoyed look. “I already didn’t want to do this so now you have to listen to my conditions.”

He raises an eyebrow, his lips pressing together oddly. He’s trying to gauge something from my expression, perhaps he’s looking for buttons to press to get his way. I guess I look as stubborn as I feel because instead of arguing he just sits on the floor. What? I watch him cautiously, trying to figure out if this is some weird argument trick.

“What are you doing?”

“What you asked.”

And just like that I’ve put myself in a position that I will no doubt regret terribly the second common sense returns to me. There’s no way to deny that Anakin and I are closer than we probably should be. We’ve felt like friends first since the day we first met. I can’t think of any reason to not offer to let him sleep in my bed except those stupid budding feelings I refuse to label.

It’s not like I actually like him. I can’t--I’m going to be married to some nobleman and he’s prohibited from ever forming attachments. I’m not even sure if we’re allowed to be friends. Having actual feelings for him would be so, so pointless. It would just lead to heartache and the ruining of the one genuine relationship I have. I’m just a tiny bit confused right now because he’s objectively really attractive and he’s always there for me. Always there to make a joke after a particularly rough meeting. Always there to offer me a supportive smile. Always there to humble me when I teeter on acting like my father.

Anyone’s heart would flutter at that, so it doesn’t mean anything. And if it does, I need to squash any budding feelings now before I mess things up. Which is why I should keep him at arm’s length until I get it together. But is that fair to him? And what if doing that is making things worse? What if it’s just reinforcing the idea of having feelings?

This is ridiculous. I’m going to get over this if it kills me. It’s just a bed and it’s only sleeping. I’m meant to be able to lead an entire union and I can’t sleep next to someone and act normal?” “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

The second the words leave my mouth I regret it all. What’s wrong with me? Did I seriously think I’d be okay?

I hear his soft exhale, “I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse places than on your marble floor.”

His voice sounds so weighted I can’t help but feel bad for not noticing that he’s still bothered. Whether he’s upset about his near miss or the fact that my father didn’t take his advice, I don’t know. But something’s wrong. The easy thing to do would be to just let him sleep it off. The smart thing to do would be to leave him alone until tomorrow.

I think of all the times that I’ve been upset and Anakin had refused to let me go to sleep angry or sad or overwhelmed. “I know, but it’s really not a big deal. It’s not like we don’t know each other. I mean, last Coronation Season you buttoned me into more gowns than my handmaid. And I owe you for saving me from one of the worst suitors I’ve ever had.”

“I’m starting to think we need to develop some kind of signal.”

The tiny bit of lightness that’s returned to his voice makes all of my internal struggle feel worth it. “You always seem to know.”

“That’s because when you’re reaching your limit, that one line appears between your eyebrows.”

I didn’t realize I had such a tell. I try to remember the way that the suitor drawled on and on about how amazing he was and how he couldn’t wait for the day he had a bride to bear his children and plan (tedious) social events. My hand moves to my forehead, trying to feel the crease Anakin mentioned. Can everyone tell when I’m growing tired? Am I that transparent?

Anakin’s slight laugh steals my attention. He’s facing me again, his elbow holding his head up on the foot of my bed. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t--I don’t think i get a crease between my eyebrows when I’m irritated.”

I hear him stand. I don’t realize he’s approaching me until he’s so close I could touch him without even needing. to stretch. “No, when you’re irritated you raise your eyebrows slightly, because that’s when you’re at your most sarcastic.”

“Really?”

The corner of his mouth tugs upwards. “Just like that.” I force myself to keep my expression blank. “When you’re reaching your limit, your eyebrows crease here.” His finger taps the space between my brows so gently I almost don’t realize what he’s doing. “And when you’re trying not to laugh--which is often, because you refuse to admit that I’m funny--you press your lips together in a way that forms a dimple here.” The knuckle of his pointer finger brushes against the bottom of my cheek.

I bite my tongue to fight the warmth spreading across my face. “I didn’t realize i was so transparent.”

“I can’t always tell what you’re thinking.”

“I’ll take it.” Maybe if I was less tired, I’d argue a little more. “You know you’re not that difficult to read either.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I can tell when you’re just being stubborn for the sake of it. I can see it in your eyes and you’re doing it right now.”

His expression harshens slightly before softening. “Y/n--”

“I’m not wrong.”

He sighs once, stepping back. I watch him pace around my bed before taking a seat on the edge of my other side of the bed. “Are you happy now?”

“Happy that I won? Absolutely.”

Anakin halfheartedly glares at me. “Careful, add a crown and a robe that trails down a throne and I’d feel like I was speaking to your father.”

“Careful, another side comment like that and I’ll ‘accidentally’ kick you off the bed in the middle of the night.”

“Not if I kick you off the bed first.”

I trace a thoughtless pattern on the fabric of my bedsheets. “What are you? Twelve?”

“I’m older than you.”

“Barely.” I continue the thoughtless pattern tracing as I fight the sleep from my eyes. “Your comebacks are usually more creative than that.”

He exhales, relaxing slightly as he rests his back against a pillow. “I’m tired, like you claimed to be.” His eyes flutter slightly, a bit of his exhaustion showing. “Go to sleep.”

I should. I’m too old to think I can put off a tomorrow I don’t want by just staying up. This is stupid. I’m too old to think I can put off the anniversary of my mother’s death by going to bed. She had been taken from us on castle grounds, killed by a revolutionist who viewed my mother as a class traitor. I still remember the way she slumped to the ground, her blood staining the snow beneath her. I remember the way the guards were so busy chasing her killer no one thought to keep me away from the body.

“Y/n?”

I scratch the back of my arm in hopes of banishing my thoughts. “Yes?”

“You’re being quiet.”

“You said to go to sleep, that tends to be a quiet thing.”

I can feel his eyes on me. “Since when do you listen to me?” Not trusting myself to actually reply, I only offer him a hum of acknowledgement. “I know you’re not half asleep.”

Folding my hands on my lap, I avoid his gaze. “It’s tomorrow.”

I don’t know why I trust him to understand my vague response, but I do. His silence stretches over us like a thin blanket on a cold night. Maybe he doesn’t understand what I’m implying. I can always correct him tomorrow, when my eyelids are no longer as heavy as my heart. The more seconds that pass in total silence, the more I think that maybe he’s fallen asleep.

I wouldn’t be surprised, Anakin has seemed tired recently, like some additional weight he won’t share with anyone has been thrust onto his shoulders. A small part of me rolls in guilt. I need to be a better friend, just because I’m suddenly a little too aware of him doesn’t mean I can shrug him off and ignore him.

My hand almost flinches away from the feeling of something surprisingly warm touching my pinky. When I realize that it’s just Anakin and that the contact was probably accidental, I force myself to ease. It’s not like we’ve never touched before, I don’t understand why I’m making it weird. Sitting in my bed in the dark doesn’t change anything. His hand turns slightly, pressing into mine a little more assuredly. Biting my tongue, I turn my hand slightly, exposing my palm. And just like that, our fingers intertwine.

“She would have been proud of you.” His voice comes out so low I barely register the words.

The words shouldn’t mean much to me--he never knew my mother and has no way to know what she wanted me to be.--and yet I find comfort in them. I smile, turning my head towards him. “You didn’t even know her.”

He rolls his eyes slightly, relaxing further before squeezing my hand once. “Who wouldn’t be proud of you? You’re kind and smart and decent to be around when you’re not telling me what to do.”

My heart swells in my chest so much I’m surprised it doesn’t burst. Could he be cuter? “Yeah...now I’m sure you’re my favorite person.”

“Now you’re sure?”

The smugness in his voice has me rolling my eyes. “Don’t make me regret saying that.”

“Maybe in the morning,” he says easily, “now go to sleep. There’s nothing worse than escorting you from meeting to meeting while you’re tired.”

“I’m not that bad.” Even in this darkness, I can make out the way he raises an eyebrow. “Shut up--I’m going to sleep, but not because of you.”

He lets out a slight huff. “You’re impossible.”

The desire to respond to his comment is not enough for me to win the fight against the weight of my eyelids. The moment my eyes shut, I feel powerless to anything that isn’t sleep. I let myself fall into a weightless sleep, my only tether being the Anakin’s fingers around mine.

A distant noise yanks me from my sleep. I’m too drowsy to do anything but register the sound. I hear another similar...whine? cry? I can’t tell and I’m too asleep to figure it out. I almost fall asleep again, but a third distressed sound keeps me from it. I wipe my eyes lazily with the back of my hand as I try to sit up.

Squinting, I make out a figure on my bed. It takes me a moment to remember Anakin and how I fell asleep. Our hands are still together and no light is peering through my window so it can’t be that long since I fell asleep. Another disgruntled sound carries itself throughout the room. I shift slightly, leaning over Anakin cautiously.

Golden brown curls are beginning to stick to his forehead and his eyebrows are drawn together sharply. He’s having a nightmare. I shift even further forward before cautiously placing a hand on his shoulder before squeezing him gently.

“Anakin,” I whisper, “it’s not--it’s not real.” His eyebrows draw together even more harshly. I shake him a little more stubbornly. “Anakin, wake up--you’re having a ni--”

My forearm is grabbed so suddenly I barely register it before I feel my back shoved into my mattress. I blink twice. His dark eyes are frantic and the look on his face is far from the gentle, easygoing expression I’m used to. He’s breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling from above me. I swallow a slight panic and something I don’t understand as I try to keep my eyes on his face and my thoughts away from how close he is. Anakin pries his fingers from my forearm one by one until only his palm is touching me.

“Y/n, I--”

“It’s okay.” Honestly, I’m more worried about his uneven breathing than the way he grabbed me. I can’t imagine everything he’s been through or how justified his nightmares are. Anakin moves his hand away from me. I don’t sit up until he’s off of me and sitting with his back against my headboard. “It’s okay--I just--you were having a nightmare and I thought I should wake you.” He doesn’t react. I turn my body further, keeping my back straight. Anakin doesn’t move, and the longer he stays still, the more I feel like I should say something else. “Do you want talk about it? Or do--do you want to talk about something else? Or go to sleep? Or get some water? Or--” The far off look behind his eyes silences me. I scoot forward slightly. “You’re okay, Anakin, I promise.”

His head turns at that, his eyes searching mine for something I don’t understand. “I thought...” He cuts himself off by swallowing once.

I shift a little more, trying to find anything normal in his expression. “Thought what?”

Anakin’s hand is on my arm so quickly I don’t even register his movement. I let his fingers press into my skin. He’s holding onto me like I’m a figment of a dream and he’s beginning to wake up. “I thought I’d failed.” He exhales, the sound heavy. “Failed you and that you’d--I thought I had lost you.”

A lump rises in my throat, thick and unmoving. Cautiously, I place my hand over the one still gripping my shoulder like a lifeline. “You didn’t. Nothing happened, it was just a dream.”

His gaze falls to the ground before he repeats the last of my words. “Just a dream.” There’s a hollowness to his voice I don’t understand.

I exhale, carefully running my thumb over his knuckles. “Yes.” He doesn’t say anything but his expression hardens again. I let us sit there like that for a long minute. “I promise.”

“You can’t promise things like that.”

I sigh, unsure of where to go from here. “Bad dreams are only bad dreams.” He doesn’t reply. “I think you should try to get some more sleep.”

Anakin is unresponsive. I shift back, but before I can transition from almost being on top of him to just sitting next to him, he pulls on my arm to keep in place. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

“You almost died today, y/n. I was right there and if I had been a second later--”

“But you weren’t.” He doesn’t ease. “You were there and I was fine. Don’t torment yourself over what could have been. You’ll drive yourself crazy.”

“If anything ever happened to y--”

“It’s not going to,” I whisper, ignoring the way his hold on my arm tightens even further, “Especially this time a year when I have a pretty good gau--”

He tilts his head slightly, eyebrows drawing together and a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Pretty good? Really?”

“Someone needs to watch your ego, chosen one.” This time when he tries for a smile, the look has some strength behind it. Relief pools in my stomach. “Now get some sleep, tomorrow’s a busy day and when you’re sleepy you’re beyond irritable.”

Anakin lets me pull away enough to lay down, but he doesn’t follow. Not for a long second. When he does, his movements are impossibly rigid. I watch him out of the corner of my eye as carefully as I can manage.

“Y/n?”

I regret turning my head immediately. I didn’t realize how close he was. It would take no effort from me to make our lips meet. Wait--why am I thinking of that? I’m not allowed to think of stuff like that...especially not about him.

“Yes?”

He lets out a breath before moving his hand. I don’t understand his hesitation until I feel his hand cupping my cheek gently. “What if next time I’m not enough? What if next time I lose you because I’m not strong enough?”

I never thought my death would be such a personal thing to him. Sure, I knew that we had some kind of bond, some kind of friendship, and that my death would bring sadness. But I never imagined I’d matter enough to him that thoughts of my death would be frightening enough to slip into his subconscious and become a thing of nightmares.

“You are enough. Nothing is going to happen to me and if it does it’s not going to be because of you.” Anakin’s lips press together in a way that implies serious uncertainty. His thumb brushes across my cheek so unexpectedly I almost ask him what he’s doing. The intensity behind his eyes is enough to burn me. “Was your dream really that bad?”

He lets out an uncertain breath as his eyebrows draw together. I don’t miss the way his jaw clenches. “It’s more than the dream. I...y/n, princess,” he tacts on, a hint of humor returning to him, “you’re more than a mission to me.”

The admission is so soft I can’t help but smile. “I know, Anakin, we’re--”

“You’re more than a friend to me.” I don’t know if my blood freezes in my veins or if my lungs don’t contract when they should or if my heart literally skips a beat, but I know something in me completely stops at his words. “I--”

“Don’t say it.” I don’t know how I managed to cut him off so sharply and I’m a little disappointed when I do, but it’s the right thing to do. Thought of the code that’s so important to him have clouded half the immense shock and joy swelling in my chest. “What you’re trying to say...I um, I want to say the same.” I try to drop my gaze but he tilts my head up slightly with his hand. “But we shouldn’t, you know that.”

"You want to us to pretend that nothing’s different? You want me to escort you from meetings with one suitor to the next every Coronation Season until you’re married off?”

“No, I’m not saying that. The point is that I’m not saying anything.” His eyebrows draw together in uncertainty. “Isn’t it enough for now, for both of us to just know? If we say it...that could mean bad things for you. And I don’t want to be a bad thing for you.”

“You could never be.”

It’d be so easy to believe him. To believe him and to let him say what I never imagined I’d be able to hear and damn the consequences of tomorrow. “Can we just refrain from verbally saying anything until you’re sure?”

“I’m sure right now. I’ve been sure since the first time we ever walked in the garden together. The night after the first Coronation Ball I escorted you to.”

I remember that night well. The way he hadn’t scolded me for needing air or taking off my uncomfortably high heels to walk in the grass. “If you mean it, you won’t say it yet. I refuse to get in the way of what you’re meant for.”

His thumb runs my cheek entirely, stopping at the corner of my mouth. “Are you capable of not disagreeing with me?”

Rolling my eyes slightly, I place my hand over his. “Probably not.”

Anakin exhales, his playful irritation clear in the sound. “You’re impossible when you’re tired.”

“I am not tired.”

“I can see the sleep in your eyes.”

“I can see it in yours too.”

He pauses, eyebrows drawn together cautiously. “I’ll go to sleep if you do.”

He must be more tired than I thought if he’s compromising with me so quickly. “Deal.”

Neither of us close our eyes for a long second, we just watch each other with wide eyes. It still doesn’t feel like he’s eased, but he’s come back to me so much more than he was earlier. I’ll make sure to check how he’s feeling in the morning. The first morning after we’ve...I don’t know.

I’m trying really hard not to get excited because anything that’s been not said could be taken back so easily. That’s the point--but it’s hard not to let my heart get ahead of my rationality. I’ll just take the good for what it is for now and tomorrow we can figure out the rest. Even though he’s not allowed to form attachments and my father really wants to marry me off to foreign royalty.

Tomorrow. This can begin to be solved tomorrow. My eyes shut and I let myself roll fully onto my back. The second I’m comfortably settled, I feel Anakin shift against the bed. I’m too tired to open my eyes until I feel a weight placed against my chest.

I open my eyes on instinct, less surprised than I should be when I see Anakin’s head resting against my chest. Before I can speak, I feel his arm rest against my side. “Anakin,” I breathe, my hand moving to smooth his hair out of his face the way I’ve wanted to for so long. “What did we just talk about?”

“You said not to say anything,” he mumbles comfortably, “I’m not saying anything.” ...It is kind of the ideal compromise. Especially since I’m too tired to find reason and he feels so warm. “I can feel you overthinking. Go back to smoothing my hair before I have to rise and stand at your door so that your handmaid comes to wake you. Something tells me she’d be glad for the excuse to get rid of me.”

That might be the most dramatic thing I’ve ever heard him say. Selma is the most patient woman in the palace. “Selma would never report anything involving me, I can’t believe you don’t like her. She’s the sweetest woman I’ve ever met.”

“She’s the one that doesn’t like me,” he says, “she always watches me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m planning on stealing you away.”

Too tired to fight my smile, I go back to smoothing his hair out with my fingers. After a moment, he lets out an exhale that relaxes his entire body. “Goodnight, princess.”

“Goodnight.” The word is barely a mumble as I feel sleep tug against me for the second time tonight.

It’s strange, but my excitement doesn’t diminish my tiredness, it just makes the prospect of rest feel so much fuller. Safer. Because there’s so much to sort out and grieve but it’s okay, because we have the time and everything feels okay because Anakin is here, right beneath my fingertips.

#anakin skywalker #anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin x you #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x y/n #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars imagines #star wars fic

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

Note

Oh god please, more cheating and angst (hoodie? Tim? 👀👀👀) Idk u just write it so good and my aching heart feels better oddly because of it. I fuckn love angst djsjsjjdjdjd

Full Moon and Being A Horrible Person

[Masky X F!Reader]

[Warnings: language, physical cheating]

[AN: i love angst too]

The full moon makes us do weird things, it’s been well documented. From the people bouncing off the walls to inducing labor, all the way to making us make questionable decisions, the full moon is to blame, not him.

It was a full moon when he caught the eyes of a woman with dark, sweet chocolate colored eyes. She looked so beautiful under the lights of the bar, yellow illuminating her skin like it was gold.

She’d been flirting with him across the bar the entire night. Wry smiles, tapping her fingernails against the glass, twirling her dark hair and giggling when he caught her eyes and by extension, her attention.

“You know Reader isn’t gonna be happy with your behavior,” Hoodie had lightly chided him before downing more of his beer. “Why don’t you let me take over? I haven’t-”

“No,” Tim laughed, pushing at his best friend’s shoulder. “It’s harmless flirting,” he finished, watching Hoodie’s expression from the corner of his eye.

“If Reader was doing this, would you consider it harmless flirting?”

Kate excused herself from her conversation with one of the ladies from the booth behind the table she and her group shared, then turned her attention to her group leader. “He has a point,” she said, grinning when Hoodie leaned over the table to high-five her.

Tim rolled his eyes and began to lazily swish his drink. “It’s nothing, I promise.”

“You mean to say you haven’t emptied your balls in a few weeks and you’re desperate,” Hoodie deadpans, breaking his blank expression when Kate loudly laughs.

“Again, he has a point,” Kate smirked. “C’mon, let Hoodie or Toby take this one. Neither of them are in relationships and are less likely to get attached.”

Tim raises a brow at Kate. “Attached? What does that mean?”

Hoodie shares a look with the woman across from him who nods at him to explain what exactly she means. “She uh,” Hoodie awkwardly sips at his beer before biting the bullet completely. “C’mon man, you have an addictive personality. Pills, cigarettes, Reader…” He trails off before Tim hisses and punches Hoodie’s shoulder, roughly. Hoodie only barks a laugh and raises his hand up in submission. “I’m right, I’m always right!” He manages to choke out through remaining giggles.

“Can we just drop it for now?” Tim growls.

Kate rolls her eyes and then pulls a face to Hoodie, who stifles his laughter just barely before she turns back to her conversation with the ladies from the booth behind her. She’s up and out of her seat following a group of them to the other side of the bar, giggling and laughing as a woman with short pink hair holds her hand and weaves her through the crowds.

Hoodie feigns innocence before standing up. “I’m gonna find Tobes, who knows what he’s doing. Tearing up the dance floor, maybe?”

Tim watches as his best friend shuffles out from his seat, beer still in hand as he disappears into the sea of people. He sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. His dark eyes scan the bustling room full of bright, rainbow colored strobe lights and too loud music only to catch a glimpse of the full moon outside. It’s tinged pink, and seems to blossom the longer he looks at it. Due to where they’re currently at in the city, he can’t see the stars - much too much light pollution. A sigh is about to escape his lips when he feels a hand brushing over his, pulling him from the light of the full moon and onto the woman he’d been flirting quietly with all night.

“Never thought I’d get you alone,” she says, voice sweet like honey and smoother than silk.

Tim thinks about his words, his group’s chiding before mentally shrugging off all responsibilities. “I know, right?” He replies, voice low and deep, something charming and sweet.

She grins like the Cheshire Cat before playfully biting her lip. “I’m just passing through here,” she begins, “maybe we could… Have a few more drinks then head back to my hotel room?”

Tim feels a slight blush come to his cheeks before swallowing it back down. He smirks, leaning into her presence. “I’d love nothing more.”

The two of them knock back a few more drinks, the woman mostly choosing fruity things and Tim sticking to whiskey. Their touches become more and more bold, and their words more lusty and obscene by the moment. He has her sit on his lap and he whispers all the nasty things he wants to do to her and she gobbles it up, giggles and soft licks to the shell of his ear driving him up a wall.

And then, he follows her to her hotel. It’s a tangle of lips smashing against lips, hearts beating in sync and hands grabbing in the most inappropriate of places. Her clothes lie on the floor before getting covered up by his, her body following in suit.

Tim takes her. He drinks her in full and has her seeing the stars that were once only gazed upon by you. He touches her in ways you’ve never been touched and allows her to touch him in ways he’d always claimed were ‘too much’ for him.

When the deed is done, he’s cuddling her much like he would cuddle you, cigarette in his mouth and bliss on his face.

Tim stayed the night.

The next morning, he’s so groggy that he doesn’t even realize he’s still got her lipstick stains on his skin. He gets back in his car (failing to realize his group had to either walk back to the temp or hitch with someone else), and heads back to the only true home he’d ever considered.

It’s a few hours to your place, but he makes it, and that’s all that matters. Your car isn’t in the driveway, so he lets himself in. A quiet stumble to the bathroom and he sees he looks like a mess. The weight of what he did to you begins to sink in.

Tim turns the shower on and strips off his clothing - the clothes still linger with her perfume before he hops in and begins to furiously scrub at his skin. Tears well in his eyes. How could he do that to you? What kind of common sense was he lacking in that moment?

He continues to scrub, slowly coming to the realization that he’s going to do whatever it takes to hide this from you - you can never know. It was the light of the full moon, people always act crazy when the moon is in that phase, and he was drunk, like really drunk.

Excuses, excuses.

The water stops right when he hears the front door open. He hears your voice. You’re greeting him sweetly, like you always do.

He takes in a deep breath. You can never know.

It was only inevitable that you’d find out, though he’s surprised you went as long as you did without knowing. Tim hid it from you for months, and he probably could’ve kept it longer if he didn’t come with you to Target when you asked. You’d always been a fan of late night store runs, and he hadn’t gone on one with you in a while… What harm could it possibly do?

A lot. A lot of harm that surfaced the truth.

“I should’ve cuffed you when I had a chance!” The woman giggled as she came up beside you as you looked at the early Halloween decorations.

You raised a brow. “Excuse me?” You looked over to your boyfriend, whose face had gone pale. “I think you have the wrong…”

“You’re a lucky girl, y’know that?” She continued, brushing off your words. “He took me to the moon.” Her voice was so sultry and decadent. “Hope he takes you to the moon as well,” she says, her fingers trailing Tim’s arm.

He pulls away from her. “W...Who are you?” He says, attempting to sound confused.

The woman pulls a face before looking in between the two of you, her dark eyes glancing and putting together the pieces. Instead of being embarrassed or ashamed, she chuckles and begins to take off again. “I did you a favor, honey,” she calls over her shoulder, hips swaying as she turns down another aisle.

You don’t want to admit it, but now you know why Tim’s been so weird lately and nicer than usual. Sure, Tim is a sweet guy, but his behavior the past few months has been OVERLY nice, and now you know why. “What was that?” You ask, eyes narrowing and tears welling.

“Nothing, let’s just pay and get out-”

“I wanna go home.”

Tim moves to rest his hand on your shoulder, but you recoil as if you’d been burned.

A huge argument ensued when the two of you got back into the car, lots of harsh words were traded. He tried reasoning with you, he tried telling you how much he loved you, he tried everything in his power but he’d ruined a good thing.

You ended up pulling over on the side of the road, slamming the breaks, tears in your eyes and turned to him. “Give me the key to my house.”

“What? No-”

“Give. Me. The. Key. Tim,” you hiss, punctuating every word with stronger venom. You held your hand out.

Tim sighs deeply and reaches into his pocket, pinching the bridge of his nose as you harshly snatch the key from his awaiting hand. “It’s not like that, you know I love you-”

“Is that what you’re calling it? Cheating on me and then lying about it for months?” You rhetorically ask, growling and seething further and further. You feel rage wracking your system as it exhausts you further and further. You can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes, because if you do, you’ll melt.

“I’m telling you, it was to protect you,” he attempts again. “Let’s just, let’s just go home and-”

“Get the fuck out of my car,” you say, drawing in every remaining and residual strength you have as hot tears scald your cheeks.

“You don’t mean that-”

“I do.”

“Reader, baby please-”

“Get the fuck out of my car,” you repeat. You squeeze your eyes shut, shake your head and then turn back to the road. “Do it before I do something stupid.”

Tim feels his heart shatter, cracking on impact as it falls deeper and deeper. He shakily runs his fingers through his hair before sliding out of your car, slamming the door shut and watches as you drive off and out of his life. He wants to scream, or cry, maybe both at the same time? He’s not entirely sure yet. He just knows his world is crashing down and there’s nothing he can do about it.

He betrayed your trust and broke your heart all for one singular night of passion.

The emotionally distraught man looks up at the moon, finding no solace that it’s full again.

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wreckmetoji · 3 years

Text

idfc

An ongoing fic in which you don't realize you have both Fushiguros at your feet.

↳ Toji Fushiguro/Reader

Part 4/?

Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 5

content warning. age gap, mention of sex, mild breeding kink if you squint, afab reader, profanity, slight angst, unrequited love, nobara being a supportive friend, mentions of domestic toji

This is part four of a several part story revolving around smut. **Minors DNI**

1.5k words

What can I say, I live to please. Besides..." "You ain't seen nothin' yet." 4:03 am is what the clock read by the time you had settled into your bed for some much needed, actual sleep. Toji had thoroughly fucked you over nearly every surface in your house that night, leaving no part of you untouched. By the third round, you had nearly lost all feeling in your legs and angry bruises were spotting the surface of your neck, thighs, and hips, the occasional hickey littering your chest. That didn't seem to stop the two of you from going another two rounds after that. What surprised you even more than his stamina, was the fact that he lay beside you in your bed, arm lazily draped over you as he slept silently. In all honesty, you had expected him to leave the moment he was done with you, recalling him saying at some point that this was just him throwing you a line, a simple no-feelings-attached fling to get your mind off the mistake you'd made the night before. For the most part, it worked, but some part of you felt disgusted with yourself for what transpired. When you woke up in the morning, Toji was gone. He had the courtesy to at least plug your phone in and place it on your bedside table, as well as lock your front door. How did he do that? Not seeing your phone for more than twenty-four hours meant you had a lot of messages and calls to catch up with, your chest squeezing slightly seeing that the most recent one had been a missed call and text at 2:47 am. It was from Megumi. By that point in the night, you were sure Toji had you bent over the railing on your balcony, but it was all hazy by this point. That same part of you that felt guilty for what, or rather who, you'd been doing all night is the part of you that texted Nobara first. Incoming call... "Nobara Kugisaki" "WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN, BITCH?!" Nobara screeched into the line, causing you to hold the phone at an arms length away as she hurled several choice insults at you. "We thought you were dead, no one's been in contact with you since you and Megumi left the bar," She chastised once she managed to calm down. "I know, I'm sorry. Some shit happened and... promise to keep a secret?" You whispered into the line, as if someone might be listening. You trusted Nobara with your life, Yuuji too but that boy couldn't keep his mouth shut if his life depended on it. So you entrusted your drunken mistake with your mutual best friend to her, and her only. "I was wondering when he was gonna make a move," She sounded so nonchalant, as if everyone but you had expected this. "He's had a thing for you ever since our last year of high school. You didn’t know?" Her words made your stomach churn. Megumi had been secretly pining for years, and you went and fucked his dad. "That still doesn't explain where you've been since you got home, did you go into a coma?" "I was... busy." Nobara gasped, your name falling from her lips in shock. "No shit. Rebound, who was it?" You both loved and loathed that she could see through you so easily. You two couldn't keep anything from each other. How could you tell her this without making it sound as bad as it actually was? "He brought my phone over, and I was just in a really bad place emotionally..." The line was silent. "It was his dad. It was Toji." Unsurprisingly to you, Nobara was more intrigued than disgusted, considering anyone and everyone that went to the Fushiguro household thirsted for Megumi's hot, ripped dad. Although she had a lack of interest in men, she asked the obligatory spill the beans, what was it like? It took nearly ten minutes of just you talking to explain everything that happened, in as little detail as possible. "So that man banged you on every piece of furniture you own and turned you into his personal cum-stuffed twinkie?" Don't make it sound so crude. "More or less, yeah." "I don't see whats wrong with that. Just don't let Megumi know, he already hates his dad." You hadn't planned on it. Nobara and you caught up for another minute or two while you got changed, hanging up when she had to leave for her extra curricular classes. Now left with your thoughts, you sighed, wandering into your kitchen aimlessly. You cursed every couple steps because holy shit your legs hurt. Deciding it was too straining to stand, you sat at your kitchen island, your head in one hand as the other held your phone, your conversation with Megumi opened. [10:20pm]Gumi: I'm sorry.

[10:22pm]Gumi: There were better times to tell you how I feel, this is my fault.

[11:09pm]Gumi: You're the most important person in my life. Just know that no matter how you feel, I'll always be here.

[2:47am Missed call]

[2:47am]Gumi: I'll give you your space. Take care of yourself, please.

Shaky fingers hovered over the keyboard of your phone, nausea building up in your gut. You were about to put your phone down, leave it for later, before the three dots popped up, letting you know he was typing. He must've seen your read receipts.

[. . .]

[9:56am]Gumi: Thank god you're safe

[9:57am]Gumi: Can I call?

The call notification popped up before you could even send the message you'd typed out.

Incoming call... "Gumi Bear"

Your thumb hovered over answer, hesitating for just a moment before answering and bringing the phone up to your ear. You could hear the concern in his voice when he whispered your name into the receiver, a guilty knot twisting in your gut. "You don't have to say anything, I was just worried about you." There was a click on the other end, followed by some rustling. "You left so quickly, I was gonna come bring your phone but... it was probably best that I gave you some space. When my dad didn't come home I assumed it's 'cause he couldn't find you." A long sigh came from him, but your brows furrowed. Toji still wasn't home? The sound of your balcony door sliding open made you jump out of your skin, having to slap a hand over your mouth to prevent from screaming right into the receiver. From the phone you could hear Megumi calling your name, hearing the sudden commotion, completely unaware of the brief staring contest you had with the tall man stopped mid-step into your house, cigarettes and lighter in one of his hands, the balcony handle in the other. Both your eyes were wide, seeming to surprise each other. Had he been out there this entire time? "H...Hey, sorry, I... a spider, I saw a huge spider and it scared me." Mentally face-palming at your sorry excuse for your outburst. Toji seemed to find it entertaining as well, chuckling to himself as he slid the door closed. Megumi was silent for a moment, but ultimately accepted the explanation. He continued, promising he'd only take a minute of your time. You couldn't hear anything he was saying over the pounding of your heart as it leapt in your throat, watching Toji slide his shoes off and stride over to the kitchen, the flat of his palm brushing the small of your back as he passed by. "Let's just forget this happened, we can start over. Okay?" His voice dropped in tone, obviously hurt by the decision. "I think... I'd like that, yeah." There was a brief silence. "Okay, well," Megumi breathed in deeply, "That's all I wanted to say. I'll let you go. Text me if you need anything." A noise of affirmation came from your throat, the line going dead soon after. Small hands placed the phone face down on the countertop, hands overlapping on top of your phone as you stared up at Toji through your lashes. He didn't ask who called. The rest of your morning was spent with Toji, not much was said. It wasn't awkward, it was a surprisingly comfortable silence, for the most part. He'd made coffee and toast, his capabilities of displaying qualities of domesticity surprising you to say the least. The kitchen clock read 1:02 pm when he said he'd be leaving and you walked him to the door. As the two of you stood in the doorway, you found yourself unable to piece together the right words swimming in your head. Toji seemed patient, smirking with his hands stuffed into his sweatpants pockets as he faced you, back to the apartment hallway. "Well, um..." All night, and you decide to be awkward now?! "Thanks for everything, I guess?" You extended a hand, offering it to Toji for a handshake. The action made him snort, one hand coming out of the pocket of his soft cotton pants and placing it in the dip of your waist. Firmly, he tugged you closer to him, leaving a searing kiss on your lips. It was as fiery as it was short. He left you dumbfounded when he parted not a second later, waving as he walked down the hall. "Let's do this again soon."

#toji fushiguro #toji smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro smut #reader insert #jjk toji #toji jjk #jjk smut #toji thirst #daddy toji #megumi fushiguro #megumi x you #megumi jjk #minors do not interact #anime x reader #anime smut

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kissmetae · 3 years

Text

Hope

❧ AU: x Taehyung || Friends to Lovers (Lowkey slow-burn)

You felt distressed, caught up in your own emotions and confused by your over-thought thoughts. Going through a rough patch as some would say, where everything felt hopeless and you found yourself scrolling pinterest till 1am looking for "angsty" core aesthetics to fit your new "vibe" of life. But it was easier said than done to dig yourself a hole when your best friend constantly stood by filling the hole back up as you dug in an attempt to stop you, help you and make you feel better, despite having his own issue to deal with... his crush on you.

|| ANGST + SMUT | 11k | x reader | masterlist in bio ||

❧ Disclaimer: This is fiction. Actions and events in these stories are often exaggerated and to a certain degree unrealistic. Please have this in consideration when reading fiction, especially if it includes sexual content.

❧ Rating: EXPLICIT || sexual content, unprotected sex || Warnings: mention of feeling hopeless, "deep reflection", (reader is troubled by something going on in their life but it's open for interpretation/unspecified)

❧ Smut features: Vanilla, desperate, first time together, unprotected, reassuring/concent asking/'checking in' (is this ok? Does it feel good?) top!Tae and a power outage.

How do you know when you've reached the complete state of hopelessness? Do people ever become 100% hopeless? You inhaled deeply and sighed it out. Gaze to the white ceiling, back on the bed and legs up against the wall. The tingle in your feet from the lack of circulation made them look somewhat less alive and feel cold. With a tilt of the hips you allowed your legs to slowly fall to the side, forming a new pose in the shape of a 90 degree angle on the bed and allowing for the less zombie-ish color to return to your feet. Hopelessness. Feeling like there is no point yet still stubbornly aching in the inner crevice of the head with a wish for there to be a chance for something else. A change, a plot twist a sudden eureka to make the entire world loose it's zombie color pallet and become lively and vibrant again. Hope. Or a wish for hope. It's probably some basic programming, like survival instinct, hope instinct. But at this point you didn't want to believe. You wanted to be grumpy, upset, frustrated. To curse society and curse what isn't fair and curse all the norms and expectations around you regardless of who made them up! Curse the media, curse the mold for perfect and the lip filler ads, curse the restrictions planted by your own beliefs and curse the cause of said belief! But feeling frustrated and angry is hard. Not only is it exhausting but it's the hardest emotion to let out fully and feel satisfied by after. If anything anger and frustration feels like a self-fueling fire that keeps burning more and more until you get exhausted and slump down on the bed with your legs up the wall. Crying would've been easier. You sat up, feeling a brief spin in the head due to your advanced modelling poses and reached for your water bottle. Water, Zen, calm rivers, refreshment, sound of clucking water in the harbor... rain. You turned towards your bedroom window at the sudden raging pattering sound outside. Even the sky needed to cry today. You reached for your phone, having it be faced down for the past hour or so after giving up on ranting about your dilemma to your friend. You had two types of friends. Those who were there for you when convenient and those who were there for you regardless. Taehyung was one of them. 3 missed calls. 15 texts- make that 16. A sting of guilt washed through realizing he must've been worried sick the past hour. Too exhausted to use your vocal chords you opened the text chat. Taehyung was the definition personified of a caring person. Sometimes to the extent where you'd question if it was more than anyone deserved. Did the world deserve Taehyung? You didn't make it through the second text before your doorbell rang followed by a loud bang. It sounded urgent... You got up from bed and slipped your feet into your white fluffy slippers and made your way to the front door of your apartment. You unhooked the clasp and unlocked your door to see one of the rainstorm's victims dripping water onto your doormat. Taehyung, Dressed in a green raincoat and hair clinging to his forehead and temples. His chest was rising unnaturally with his attempts to regain his breathe. "Tae-" He stepped in, an arm wrapping around your side and the other pressing your head to his wet shoulder. "If you didn't make me so worried... I would've removed my raincoat before hugging you." He squeezed. "See this as my revenge." His heart was beating fast. He pulled back after a few seconds, breathing stable and his red hands reaching to unbutton his raincoat. Did he not wear gloves? He pulled the door shut behind him and gently kicked off his boots. Apparently not. "I'll... go hang your raincoat in the bathroom for it to dry" you said, taking it from him. He was quick to address the elephant. "Why didn't you reply to my texts?" He followed behind you. "I... I left my phone to charge and I got distracted..." you made up, hanging his raincoat up in the shower. "I didn't come here to scold you, but when you tell me you're feeling hopeless, you get that it makes me worried right?" His voice was gentle and he looked at you with concerned eyes, stood in the door to the bathroom. Actually.... you didn't. Why would anyone worry... everyone seemed to always take it as nihilistic comedy or something and swat it away with something along the lines of "you’re just hungry" or the classic "are you on your period?" Maybe you were or maybe you weren't but why would that matter? Just thinking about it made you feel annoyed. As if any deep emotion only was caused by a period, it's just a period, why would anyone, let alone someone with a period themselves ask someone else that in a way that minimizes the reason they feel upset or angry or whatever emot- "Hey?" Taehyung pulled you back out from inside your head. "I don't know..." He crossed his arms over his chest and you knew that look far too well. "We'll talk about it, but right now, I'm here to make it better and take care of you. Did you eat?" You shook your head. "Great! Because I stopped by at the shop on my way... before the rain attacked me and picked up some stuff, including~" he said with an eager tone and walked towards the grocery bag you hadn’t noticed until now. He picked it up and dug his hand in for something. "Du du du du" he sang dramatically and slowly pulled out the familiar dark blue packaging. The love of your life, the source of all things good. Chocolate. The good one! Not the weird orange wrapping one you hated, but the blue one, the holy blue one, your favorite one. "I remember your frustration when you saw the empty shelf of horror last week and it was restocked today so i picked up three just in case." "THREE?!" "Mhm!" He nodded proudly. You could cry, finally, but for other reasons. "TaeTae you're the best." You walked towards him, hugging him tight. He was the bestest of the best, the hero, the savior, chocolate delivery man. Oh what would life be without him. A blush spread across his cheeks. "You did it again." He said shyly "Hm? Did what?" "You called me TaeTae." "You don't like it?" "... I do." -- Taehyung had you stationed at the kitchen table while he cooked. With a focused gaze he scrolled on his phone, reading the next step for the recipe while stirring the pot. You were pretty sure he knew this recipe by heart now, he'd cooked it for you before and he should be confident in it but seemingly not enough yet to put the recipe down. The kitchen smelt amazing and you could feel your hunger cry out for whatever was simmering in the pot. Taehyung gently tapped the wooden spoon against the pot as he added another ingredient. "Are you going to tell me what happened?" He asked. That's where you'd left him hanging in your texts when exhaustion took over... "I just..." "Is it /that/ thing?" Taehyung asked, very much knowing of your source for distress already. "Kinda... but this time it feels different... I’m not nervous or eager, I just felt like I was waiting and waiting and what if I waited so long for nothing and I.... it doesn’t make sense but I just feel numb at this point and like I'm losing hope. Like every odd is set against me and I'm the only one dumb enough to still bet on myself." "And me. Except I'm not dumb, nor are you and I'll always bet on you. Always." Oh Taehyung... "Well, as your personal doctor and advisor and therapist and nurse, care-taker, comfort teddy and so on, I am going to prescribe you with some stuff." You chuckled. "Please go ahead." He placed a plate in front of you and another on the opposite end of the table. "Firstly, a good healing meal." "And you’ve already done everything in your power right now, you’ve been working hard. Maybetoohard." He mumbled under his breathe followed by a fake cough. "That said, let me distract you." "How?" "Well, some old school friends wanted to go out clubbing this weekend and-" "You don't like clubbing." "Hold on, let me get to the point. My suggestion is that you can come too, it won’t only be them. There will be the general club people too of course and I think most of them were bringing other friends or their girlfriends too so... it might be fun? If it sucks, we'll ditch and go to the midnight bowling place or noraebang, yes?" Maybe having some social interaction, an excuse to dress up and good music wasn't such a bad idea? The only thing bugging you was the potential mess there could be... and lately with your stressed mind you hadn't been the best at handling those environments, but after all this was just a club, with dancing people... it couldn't be that bad right? Bowling did sound fun too though... But you knew distraction and fun was what you probably needed. Maybe it wouldn't solve the issues but maybe it'd make it weigh less. The small distractions did a lot, a big one should do even more. "Sure." "Really?!" You could've sworn you just witnessed his ears wiggle from excitement. "I'll come." -- When Taehyung said "clubbing" you expected big flashy neon signs, a red rope and a guard and pulsing music coming from inside... not a giant base, a sax and a set-up of almost 4 different types of synthesizers. A jazz club. You should've known. The band was some sort of electro jazz fusion sprinkled with funk type band, as they introduced themselves as and they weren't bad, not at all. In fact this was a lot cozier than an uncomfortable packed nightclub. You just wish Taehyung told you so you could've worn your comfy flowy favorite dress rather than your tight little black one, wanting to fit in with the scene... Taehyung was dressed in black slacks, a green sweater and a brown coat that was hung over his chair, paired with his trademark assortment of bracelets on his wrist. Including the one you gave him for his birthday two years ago. He never took it off since the day he got it. It made you smile seeing it on his wrist. Taehyung's old school friends, the few you had managed to great during the evening were all really nice and most of them had their arm either around another or a hand held by another. You couldn't help but feel a little awkward, the questioning looks that didn't need to be vocal for you to understand. "Is this your girlfriend?" Taehyung just smiled, maybe playing it off was best... or did he just not notice the silent question? At first you expected a shrug or something but nope... "Would you like something more to drink?" Taehyung asked, leaning in so you'd hear him over the music and pointing towards your nearly empty glass. "I think I'm alright." "What?" "I'm ok." You leaned in closer. "Do you want to dance?" You and Taehyung were seated alone at one of the many tables as the majority were occupied dancing to the beats of the band and the rest drinking at other tables or mingling around. You had been up there at least twice, maybe even three times dancing the best you could and Taehyung always being by your side but your brain was starting to get a little drowsy. "I think I'm going to call it a night. But you can stay if you want." "No no, if you want to go home I'll come with you, let me walk you home." "I'll take a taxi its ok" "I insist." "So do I" the few drink he had had were enough to make his words braver and bolder. "It's late, I don't want you to go back alone regardless of if you take a taxi. I'll walk you." Fine. "Ok" Taehyung swept the remainder of his wine and grabbed his coat and waved some quick goodbyes. It was cold outside. Dark and empty... maybe it was good Taehyung insisted after all. He stumbled slightly, alarming you. Your hands instinctively reached for him and he giggled. "You only had two glasses I doubt you're drunk right now." "Maybe I wiwwle tipdie" he giggled, clearly acting up. "Does wiwwle tipdie Taehyung need help? Should I carry you on my back?" "No! I should be carrying you, do you have a blister on your heal from your shoes? Sore feet? Sore legs? Anything I can use as an excuse?" You laughed, patting him gently on the back. A cold breeze travelled through the street and you pulled your jacket tighter around you. "You're cold?" Taehyung asked "A little... my choice of dress wasn't the best." "I think you look beautiful." The sudden compliment caught you off guard. "... thanks." "Thanks? For what?" "The compliment" "I'm simply stating the facts." He said, looking to the side and slipping his hands into his pockets. "It sure is cold..." Why was it feeling awkward suddenly? Silence between the two of you would usually be comfortable... "Thanks for bringing me too." "Did you have fun?" He turned to face you again. "Yes, it was better than I expected." "I'm glad to hear that." "But let’s go bowling next time." "Sure!" He smiled widely. A source of warmth suddenly surrounded you and you looked up to see Taehyung's face turned away yet again but his arm resting around your shoulder, wrapping his coat around you and urging you closer into his side till your hips almost brushed against each other. The rest of the walk back home was a few minutes of silence, but luckily you didn't live far. "Home sweet home" "How will you get home?" You asked, concerned. "Ah..." he checked the time on his phone. "Well I've missed the last train... so unless I can find a taxi which so far I've seen none I'll have to sleep at the station." "No you're not, come, you can call a taxi from my place and at least wait inside instead of out in the cold." You said, grabbing his arm and pulling him with you through the entrance. "Nobody's picking up?" You asked Taehyung looked down at his phone with a confused look. "It keeps hanging up on me? I don't know if maybe their line is down or something?" "It would explain why we didn't see any on the walk back." "I guess so... so now what?" He looked up at you. "Guess you'll have to stay the night." He grinned. "Can't remember the last time we had a sleep-over" he chuckled and removed his coat. He was right, it must've been years ago... the last time you could remember was a movie night gone sleep over during winter when it had snowed so no traffic was able to move at all. You grabbed a spare cover and a pillow and handed it to Taehyung, sleepiness already present in his eyes. "Hey." Taehyung said, laying out the pillow and cover on your sofa. "If I have a nightmare can I come lay next to you?" He grinned. "If you have to." He replied with a puppy gaze. "Good night TaeTae." His eyes widened and he looked down at the couch. "... Good night." -- The question was when would you wake to the sound of birds chirping instead of the aggressive rasp of the snow plow dragging across the street? It almost sounded like it was more ir less plowing the asphalt off the earth rather than the snow. More irritating was that it just added to your unsatisfying sleep and rough awakening streak. One good morning was all you asked for... You sat up, slid off the edge of the bed and slipped into your slippers that were neatly set up by its side. A scratch of the head and an adjusting pull of the bun on your head and you headed to you first destination; tea. With heavy steps you dragged yourself out of your room and were met by the surprise you had forgotten was left on your couch from last night, sprawled across the sofa... in only boxers. Oh god. The covers were halfway on the floor, only covering his legs, barely. It was cold too but should you just ignore him... no, you couldn't... but what if you woke him up? He was only in boxers and you were already trying your best not to look but your brain had already registered that they were black and Calvins... please no more information... thigh muscles NO! Chest, focus on the chest. He was breathing, he was alive. Inhale, exhale. You carefully made your way towards him. His chest was toned... the type perfect to rest your head on NO! Messy hair... It really didn't help that your best friend was as attractive as he was. You bent down and carefully picked up the cover, pulling it back up over his upper body. He must've been really cold, his nipples- NO. You shook your head furiously to get rid of the thought. You turned around 180 degrees and marched to the kitchen. Tea. Tea. Tea. Tae. TEA! You could hear the covers rustle as he shifted, followed by a soft groan. Oh no... Please no. Although... why was it so dangerous for him to see you in your own home, making tea. I don't know! But regardless it felt like an action movie stealth scene for the grand heist judging by your heart beat. The boiler was too loud, the accidental clink of the mug as you set it to the counter too, the rip of packaging of the tea bag, the wind whistling outside! Sweat? You were sweating, stress consuming you yet again over the moist pointless little thi- "Hey?" The tea cup smashed against the kitchen floor along with your gasp and you grabbed the door handle of the kitchen cupboard for support. Taehyung starred at you with wide startled eyes. Maybe your screech scared him as much as his sudden presence scared you. "Sorry." He chuckled, voice so deep and raspy you could practically feel his vocal chords vibrate. Your heart was pounding hard. Could he at least have been swaddled in the covers and not in his boxers right now... You diverted your eyes to the porcelain shards across the floor. "Wait wait wait!" Taehyung yelped, holding his hand out to stop you from moving. But it was too late. The dark kitchen along with your giddiness had of course resulted in the unfortunate miss step. You sighed, lifting your foot from the chard as you felt something wet trickle down your foot. Taehyung quickly reached to turn the lights on, the bright shine blinding both of you briefly and making the view of him even clearer. "Stay there." Taehyung ordered. Your kitchen was pretty small so there wasn't much space to move without risking another wrong step. A cup of tea and now all this. You slapped your arms to your sides in a deep pout. Making a new cup now just felt wrong but you craved a cup so bad and it was cold... the floor was cold, you were cold... and not to mention everything hanging in form of heavy weights on your shoulders and chilling on top of the imaginary storm cloud above you right now. It's like your issues were mocking you and just making everything worse. Maybe the issue was that you related to the once-was intact mug. You felt split and unorganized, all over the place and dependent on things you knew you shouldn’t be depending your hope and happiness on but yet day after day you’d lose yourself in a visualization of a scenario of perfection were everything would be ok until again the door was slammed in your face and you had to start all over again. No matter how many times you felt like this time would be different and this time you were ready, this time it'd all go your way because the past was forgiven and your time wasn’t right but again and again .... Your patience was running out. You sniffed, wiping the tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand. Taehyung came back holding a broom and a dust pan when he saw your face of tears. "No..." he sounded panicked. He leaned down quickly sweeping the chards to the side of the kitchen and tossing the broom and pan into the pile so he could approach you. Strong lean arms embarrassed you like out of a 6 different angles k-drama scene. A hand found its place on the back of your head, softly petting you as the other pressed you closer to his warm chest. Never had you expected that hugging Taehyung would feel this safe. May it be because he was the one you could be truly vulnerable with or that he was the one that knew what was going on right now, but whatever he did... he did it just right. "You don't need to say anything." He whispered. "I know." He squeezed you a little firmer. "I know." He reassured. "Sssh" his hand felt so gentle as it caressed you. "It's going to be ok." He felt so warm. "I'm here." His skin felt so soft against your hands. "I'm not going anywhere." Your heart calmed down. Taehyung didn't pull away until you became silent and your breathing stable. But even then he didn't pull away completely, only enough to look at your face and caress his thumbs under each eye gently. "I'll reheat the water for you." He smiled softly and reached for the switch on the kettle. You didn't want to let go, not just yet. But he slipped away carefully and kneeled to sweep up the shards and discarded the pieces into the bin. He briefly disappeared and came back holding his sweater, arms slipped in and pulling it over his head as he entered, causing his shoulders to naturally flex slightly as he slipped it on. He grabbed two mugs from the cupboard, added a bag in each and filled them with the hot water. You tugged and fidgeted at your sleeve as you watched, feeling unusually shy in his presence. "Come, let’s sit on the sofa" Taehyung said and grabbed a mug in each hand but quickly came to a halt. "Your foot!" You had forgotten about it too. He placed the mugs back down and watched you as you lifted to check the cut. "Fuck." Taehyung said and quickly ripped a piece of kitchen towel off and handed it to you. Holding one hand against the fridge for support and the other wiping the smeared mess on your foot you watched as Taehyung quickly disappeared and reappeared again with your med kit. "Does it hurt?" He asked, rummaging through the kit. "No, it just stings a little." He pulled out some disinfectant solution and eyes you quickly up and down. Before you knew it he was stood in front of you, kneeling slightly as you felt his large hand grab a hold behind your thigh and his arm scooped you up on him. Your heart was back to its rapid pace again. He set you down on the sofa carefully and went back to grab the disinfectant and the tea mugs. He sat on the floor in front of you, soaking a cotton pad with the solution and gentle pulling your foot towards him by the ankle. "Ah, thanks goodness it doesn't seem to be deep." He said with relief, gently dabbing the cotton pad to the wound. It stung a little but it wasn't too bad. "All nice and clean, do you have cute band-aids?" "Only boring plain ones I'm afraid." Taehyung scrunched his nose. "Boo." With a band-aid beneath your foot and your longed for tea in your hands you sat next to him on the sofa. "An eventful morning." "I should become your fulltime caretaker at this point." Taehyung joked. "Not that I'd mind." "Will you pay me?" He raised his brows as well as the mug to his lips. "No way." You smiled. "Charity work is good for karma." "I already have good karma!" Taehyung protested, pretending to be offended. He laughed that trademark warm laugh that was like a smooth cackle that somehow always triggered a little firework to go off in your chest. You smiled, looking into your mug as if it'd tell you a fortune. ... you swallowed and looked up. In winter the sun rose late and had begun its voyage above the horizon, painting the sky a bright warm orange tone as it shined in through the window behind Taehyung. No. You didn't have feelings for him. You just felt some post-event shakiness and nerves and for the matter of a fact you finally got your much needed cry. It must just be your chest feeling lighter thanks to the cry. "So, do you have any planes today?" Taehyung asked. "I don't even know what day it is." "Good, I don't have plans either and it's Saturday for your information. But I do have a potential plan and that is, since I'm already here, to spend the day with you unless you have important to do's, which you shouldn't, because you need a break." He whispered towards the end. "A fmnn break." He repeated, biting his lip on the word to censor himself, but he got his point across. "A break would be nice... but when I try, I feel distressed as if I shouldn't be doing it because I'm wasting my time. I need-" "A distraction" Taehyung filled in. You nodded. "Then thou shall sit here and watch my live-in-action cooking show live from your kitchen." He said cheerfully, slapping his hands to his thighs as he stood up. "Do you have strawberries?" He asked. "In the freezer." "Yes!" He made his way to the kitchen, worth to mention is the open floor plan of your apartment so you could see him well enough from where you were seated. The soft messy curls on his head bounced with him as he walked. He dramatically pointed at you with a spatula in his hand. "Welcome." He said, speaking deeply into the spatula. "The pancake and strawberry smoothie extravaganza extraordinaire show with your host." He point his thumb and index under his chin. "Kim Taehyung." His goofiness never failed to bring a smile to your face. He went to grab his phone on the sofa table. "I need background music...." he hummed as he scrolled, spatula still in his other hand. "Jeopardy music 10 hours?" He looked up at you for an opinion. "Please no." He giggled and a calm upbeat song started playing from him phone as he put it back down and resorted to the kitchen. While frying up the first batch he was spaced out, humming on the theme tune to jeopardy anyway. You had made yourself comfortable on the sofa, lying down. The sofa smelt like him now. The same sweet comforting scent as the hug had... and his coat the numerous times he'd wrapped it around you when it was cold or shielded you from the rain with it. But speaking of memory, thinking back at those often occurring times you were also reminded about how a previous "friend" used to try and provoke you into being nervous and shy in Taehyung's presence. You'd been close for years and maybe she had an issue with that or something but she'd always find ways to tease you in way. Claiming Taehyung was giving you "looks" or "checking you out" in ways she as a self-declared expert in men deemed were of more than friendly nature. And since she as expert of men by that likely thought all men were the same, proves how reliable of a source she was. Taehyung he just.... you were close. She just wanted to make you feel embarrassed and self-conscious and make it awkward between you. You hated thinking about that. It made you overthink and feel awkward. Like an evil loop. You looked up at the breakfast chef, catching his eye as he quickly looked back down to the pancakes. You could get used to this view. Handsome man in boxers and sweater making you pancakes when you’re feeling blue, the headline in your head spelled out. The Zen experience of the kitchen fan being turned off brought stillness and Taehyung emerges with a plate of pancakes, disappearing and re-appearing again after denying your offer to help with the strawberry smoothies, plates, forks, knifes and every suitable pancake topping he had been able to locate in your kitchen. And a tube of mustard as a joke that you only kept in your fridge for when your dad came over to dinner and his weird obsession with having mustard on everything. It was probably even expired. "Enjoy your meal." "You're my hero Taehyung." You said, stabbing a pancake. "I can be your hero baby." You froze. "What?" "Haven't you heard that song?" He smiled. Oh.. "Hero? By Enrique Iglesias?" "Ah, now that you mention it-" "With the weird music video were goes on this road trip with the girl and then he's suddenly rubbing money over her body in this random stone house." "Is this what you binge on youtube at 2am when I wake up to 15 links and emotional texts." "Do not judge me!" You giggled. "I'm not, I like waking up to those texts from you. You sent them to me for a reason." Taehyung smiled shyly. "Yeah... anyhow! I have a suggestion, a proposal, a-" "Go on" "Since I'm your hero, but even I weren't. I thought maybe I could stay here a few days? Only if you want me to, of course. I just-" he became shyer. "I like to think that you seem to feel better when I'm around and you're going through a rough time so I'd like to be there for you, like you are for me." Your heart made its presence in your chest known yet again. "You should think.... because it's true." "So?" "It'd be nice." He smiled widely. "Great! But I do need to go home and pack some clothes and... some pajamas and Yeontan! He is a great comforter trust me, he has cheered me up many times when I've cried." "Cried? What were you crying about?" "Oh- uhm it's nothing, it's ok now so." He swatted it away. "Boys cry too." He joked, but it tasted weird. "But he's staying with my parents this weekend, but if you want I can go pick him up." He suggested. "It's ok, he needs time with his grandparent." Taehyung chuckled. "Well they love their grandson so I'm sure they wouldn't mind having him stay an extra day or two." -- You couldn't help but feel bad that Taehyung had to sleep on the sofa... His bag with clothes and necessities was placed in the hallway and the covers neatly hung over the backrest. "We could take turns and sleep in the bed every other day." "I told you it was fine." Taehyung insisted, again. "I just feel bad..." "Then let’s both sleep in your bed and call it even." "...." your cheeks felt hot. "See, so I'll sleep on the sofa. Don't worry about it!" What does he mean "see"? ... you were simply imagining what excuse to use as to how your head would coincidentally end up on his chest instead of your pillow. "Or we'll both sleep on the sofa, but it might be a bit cramped." He continued. "Maybe this was a bad idea..." "Hey no! No, I'm just joking. Don't feel bad ok." Taehyung's hands smoothed down your arms. "Beds are better at healing wounds on the feet too." You exhaled deeply. "Oh TaeTae..." "Doesn't this feel like we're having a pajama party or sleep over?" He smiled. "Kinda, should we build a blanket fort and watch movies?" His mouth dropped open. "I'm just kidding!" You laughed He pouted. "Oh you want to?" A nod. "You want to build a fort and watch movies?" You asked with more excitement. More enthusiastic nodding. You both cracked up laughing on the sofa together. "I'm serious though." Taehyung grinned. -- You lied awake in your bed, eyes to the ceiling. For some wild reason you both thought it would be a great idea to binge through the entire twilight saga series as a source of comedy but you only made it up to half-way through eclipse when it became too much to handle for both of you. The first movie was easy to mock and laugh at and make fun out if but once it got more serious and romantic in new moon it started getting a little awkward. To say the least, feeling flustered from watching twilight but not due to the movie itself but from the presence of Taehyung right next to you in your make-shift sofa blanket fort. You couldn't stop thinking about him. And he was out there... on your sofa, right now. And who knew if he was in cute polka dot pajamas with his hair a mess on the pillow or his tight fitted boxers and his hair tied up.. You bit your lip, crossing your legs at the visual. You remembered the first time you witnessed Taehyung tie his hair up and how it felt like being punched in the gut. It's not possible to be that attractive. "Then aren't you attracted to him?" The voice echoed in your head. Just because you find someone attractive doesn't mean you're attracted to them! Which is very much true. But Taehyung's personality was attractive too which was harder to justify the same way. And his person. And him. The entire package. You sighed. Maybe the stupidest thing you could do right now was reach for your phone and google "do I have feelings for my best friend?" Ah yes. A quiz. Maybe it wasn't so stupid after all, it'd say maybe you like him but you're not into him at the very most. Question 1, do you find them attractive. Well who wouldn't? And like mentioned it doesn't mean you're attracted to him. Yes. Question 2, do they like you? Pfft... what kind of question is that? How would you know? I don't know... or yes I guess? I mean he clearly likes you as a friend or he wouldn't be up to making all this effort for you but do they mean platonically? You ticked maybe. Question 3, Do you stalk them on social media? What the??? He's your best friend! The algorhythm shoves his posts in your face weather you like it or not. Sometimes. Question 4, Do you see them a lot? Yes. Question 5, Do you want to know more about them? You already know everything ... but what he cries about to Yeontan is something. Yes. Question 6, when you see them with somebody else who isn't considered their friend, how do you feel? Jealous. Question 7, when they're around you how do you feel? Nervous or self-conscious or nothing or i don’t know... well nervous AND a little self-conscious depending on the situation and if he's dressed or in just his boxers. Nervous. Question 8, Do you think about them? Yes. Always. Question 9, Do you laugh at their jokes? Another weird one but yes. Question 10, are they your ex? Huh? No. Definitely. A lot. You placed your phone screen down on your chest and let out a sigh. Maybe visualizing a kiss or two while in the shower was a crime after all... or was the question why were you in the first place? He was amazing in every type of way and you wanted to know if he was amazing at kissing too andmaybeinbed but you can't just ask him that or try it out, so you had to resort to imagination.... Who were you even trying to convince at this point? You liked him. Definitely. And a lot. The realization did nothing to help you fall asleep unfortunately. Another 15 minutes in dark silence passed when you suddenly heard the floorboards squeak. Maybe Taehyung was going to the bathroom or grabbing a glass of water... But the soft pats of his feet should've stopped by now... Your half open door pushed open a bit more shyly and Taehyung peaked in. Dressed in pajama bottoms, but no shirt. "You're awake." He said, whispering. "So are you." "I can't sleep..." he rubbed his arm. "I feel lonely." As if you'd deny him looking all shy and vulnerable in your door. You scooted to the side in your bed, making raise his brows in hope and anticipation, fingers fidgeting. "Come." You said, patting the bed next to you. The bed dipped gently as he lied down and you put the covers over him. He shifted onto his side, placing his head on your pillow. This was better. But since you just took an online quiz to realize you had feelings for this man currently shirtless in your bed, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly awkward. "How come you're feeling lonely?" You asked, trying to conceal your stiffness "To a start I sleep better when I get to hold something." He said shyly "Who?" You asked, intending for it to be a thought. "When I'm at home, Yeontan." Of course... "He lays on the bed and I feel less lonely and hearing him walk around or do something makes me feel soothed knowing I'm not alone... for the most part." "Are the tears you cry... tears of loneliness?" You could tell it triggered something in him. He bit his lip and nodded gently, eyes glossy. "For the most part it's just me and a pillow." He confessed. "But you could say-... it's something like that, yes." Face to face, mere inches apart. You thanked the darkness of the room that he couldn't see you blush right now but unreasonable fear that he'd somehow "sense" it in the atmosphere still worried you. You shouldn't have taken that stupid quiz it only made you start overthinking and it was probably rigged and the questions were weird so why should you listen to it? Get back to your senses! He's your best friend and you're comfortable with him! Calm down! "... I know it's dumb" Taehyung mumbled. "I know it seems like I'm this easy-going social butterfly with lots of friends who can find someone to hang out with within seconds... but when I'm alone at home, I just feel so empty. Like if nobody sees me, I don't exist. Thus when I'm alone, I'm not real anymore." "That's very philosophical, but what if someone thinks about you while you are alone? Then wouldn't you exist since somebody has you on their mind?" "But it'd be impossible for me to know and people have better things to do than walk around and daydream about me." It stung a little inside hearing him say this. "People are actually capable of multitasking you see, they can do these better things you speak of and think about you at the same time. I think about you a lot, sometimes I think about you while doing the laundry, riding the bus or taking a show- that sound's wrong." Taehyung chuckled. "But you get what I mean." "What do you mean?" He asked "That I think about you and that you aren't alone TaeTae, you never are. If you're ever feeling lonely, maybe think about me. If that helps. Or get to know yourself more, become your own friend or create an imaginary friend!" "I already do that." "Have an imaginary friend?" "Think about you." Oh. "... does it help?" You asked shyly. He shook his head. "It just makes me miss you and want to come to see you." Is it possible to experience a softer heart attack than you just did? Rather than a heart exploding in saw gore-level mess it gently poofed and became a small cloud of red feathers gently falling to the ground. Since when had you become a softie? Two hours ago you were all if there's no sex in the romance novel, it's not worth my time but now you suddenly felt an urge to ransack the romance section of the nearest library to read every cheesy romance story you could find until you could find one similar to your own. Your... own? What? With... with Taehyung? ... not that you’d visualize every male lead character as coincidentally similar to him regardless of how their looks were described in the book.... "Maybe I do need to spend some time with myself to get over it..." No! Stay here with me! "I can spend more time with you." Taehyung looked up. "I think that could benefit us both." He sounded more hopeful now. "Well, you're already here so it's also convenient." Despite the darkness you could make out the smile on his face that appeared. Cute. But wait... did Taehyung suggest he could stay here for you, because he felt lonely? He shifted slightly and the sheets rustled. His leg accidently brushed against yours and your first thought was to tangle your legs with his in a leg tackle war... but you still felt too on edge to act casual and playful with him like you normally could. You swallowed. "How long have you felt this way?" "A while... a long while. At first it was nothing but then it got worse and even more worse when I realized this one thing." "What thing was that if I may ask?" He sighed. "It's hard to explain... but, say a friend." "Mhm?" "A friend feels kinda lost, existentialism and stuff going on, doesn't like to be by himself, then he finds this person and they make him forget it all but once they’re apart it all returns to him again like they were his escape but only for as long as they were together." "Is that only with that one person or all?" "No no, only that person. And then he realizes he might be in love, or he's addicted to the person in a way, but in a good way not an obsessive way just-" "In love?" "Something like that." "You're in love?" "Huh?! What no! This was about a friend! I'm not talking about me!" "Then what did you realize Taehyung?" You could tell his mind briefly blanked in panic. "I realized that maybe I, as said friend need to find that person for me." "A person?" He nodded shyly. "You want to fall in love?" "I don't know... something like that." 'Something like that' seemed to be his catchphrase this evening. But in love? A person? His person?... that couldn't be you... could it? Did he want you to be his person? Were you his person?? The questions and confusion kept spiraling through your head, (finally) making you feel tired and exhausted. "I think... I just want to tend to someone else than myself, to not have to think so much about it and instead take care of somebody else." "Is that why you offered to stay?" "Yes and no, I want to take care of you because I am genuinely concerned and worried about you, I want to be there for you. But also, sleeping on the couch last night, hearing you tiptoe around the kitchen... it made me feel comforted." His voice sounded drowsy. "If you want... I can be your person in this scenario." You suggested. "You've already become.. person." He mumbled, sinking deeper into his half-awake state. -- You stretched your leg out one at the time, twisting your body gently and inhaling deeply into a stretch, gently batting your eyes open. You pushed a palm against the bed to get up into a seated position when something suddenly restrained you, heavy over your abdomen. Surprised, you raised the sheet to see the reminder of what you had forgotten last night. Over your waist, a lean arm with faint thin dark hairs and a few subtle veins travelling up the forearm from the large hand clung to the side of your waist... all attached to the source of warmth to your left, Taehyung. His dark locks a mess on the pillow, his bare upper body now fully on display in the daylight and his polka dot pajama pants haven travelled down a bit too far low for your sanity... Cursed be the eyes in your skull for travelling down the view. You would've noticed it sooner or later regardless, especially since your thigh was a hair between touching it. It, being the weird relief of knowing he got some deep relaxing sleep in... but with an awkward morning surprise... and his arm wouldn't grant you freedom without you accidentally or intentionally having to wake him up. You carefully shifted to at least have your thighs at a safer distance, but your bed wasn't intended for two people, so it was easier said than done. His grip suddenly tightened and a low groan escaped him as he shifted. Why did you feel fear as if you shouldn’t be present in your bed in which he entered himself. If anyone Taehyung should be the one fearing his life right now. His thumb caressed your side gently and it felt nice... soothing. Until his eyes suddenly opened wide with a soft gasp as you felt his morning hard on grace against your thigh. Eyes that pleaded and begged you didn't notice pierced into yours and you decided to play along. "Did you sleep well?" His hand quickly retreated to your disappointment. "Sorry i... I did it in my sleep it wasn't-" "It's ok, you said you sleep well holding something and being held didn't feel too bad..." "Well, in that case, I actually slept better than I have in a really long time." He said, voice raspy and deep still. He rolled onto his back, thankfully, and placed his hand behind his head. "Did you?" "Huh?" "Did you sleep well?" "In fact, I did." You said, answering truthfully and resisting the urge to put your head on his bare chest. If only the lord or whoever would stop testing me... "Hungry?" He asked. You nodded. "Great, I'll fix something ok, but close your eyes." "Why?" "I'm shirtless." ... right. You covered your eyes with your hands and the warmth left your side as he got up and escaped the room. You slowly got up, trying to win some time for him but a few brief seconds later heard the sound of the bathroom door down the hall closing and locking. Yikes. That went smoother than expected. You set up some tea, knowing Taehyung described coffee as the closest to unlethal poison you could find, you knew he'd prefer tea or hot chocolate and that there was no use to ask. You knew him too well. It was nice having him here. And waking up with a strong arm around your waist wasn't too bad either... if only you could've let yourself enjoy the moment instead of freaking out, what if he grew cautious now and you'd never experience it again? You sighed softly, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard. After a while, the kettle clicked and you poured some water into each mug. It had been a while now... ... was he meditating in there? There was no sound of the shower, or anything, not that you were listening. Would it be weird if you asked if he was ok? Since the kettle was off the entire apartment became significantly more silent. You heard a faint mumble. "Fuck..." You swallowed. Ear please momentarily turn off, mind and imagination too please. You reached to put the kettle back on but since the water was already hot it clicked off again after 5 seconds. The bathroom door opened and you braced yourself to not look down. Luckily, he was now wearing his oversized sweater or else you would've failed immediately. He let out a soft chuckle. "I spaced out." His cheeks were flushed red and glowing. Right. "I made you some tea." -- Why were deep topics always easier to talk about at night? Were people like clams? You wake up and it opens a little and once we hit the night the clam is fully open and then closes during sleep to a new no-talk-me-I-not-have-tea-yet to ask-me-about-how-i-view-existentialism cycle? Or were nights just vulnerable with the darkness? In that case you should metaphorically speaking be an open clam all day during winter when the sun goes into its own hibernation. But here you were again, just like last night, except... 20 minutes into the sudden power outage that made your impromptu movie night come to a halt. And it was getting really cold. Bundled up under a cover together, staring at the flicker of the candle on the coffee table in silence. "I was going to offer to make you tea to warm you up but the kettle..." Taehyung said with a soft chuckle. "The power will probably come back any moment soon." He said optimistically. As you looked out of the window earlier, you noticed it wasn't just your place, but the entire block seemed to have an outage. Unusual. But the current roaring rain storm outside likely had something to do with it. The wind was aggressive, the windows shook, it whistled in a creepy way and the trees outside rustled loudly. "How about we play a game?" Taehyung suddenly suggested, breaking off the silence again. He was feeling awkward, you could tell. He always rested his hands in his lap, fidgeting or poking at the cuticles of his nails when he felt awkward. "Sure, what should we play?" His face lit up. "Questions and answers? I can start!" "Shoot!" You folded your legs and shifted to face him on the couch. "What's your ideal type." ... he... immediately went there. "Looks or personality?" Taehyung shrugged. "Both." "Well it depends on the vibe they give off of course... and mainly. I guess tall, but it's not that important, wide shoulders are always nice." You paused to think, how can I describe Taehyung without it sounding like I'm describing Taehyung. "Funny, caring, optimistic, outgoing..." "Like me!" He smiled widely. You leaned back, squinting while caressing your chin, examining him playfully. "Hmmmn" He placed his hands under his jaw, like he was displaying his face and batted his eyelashes. "Not bad, not bad." He looked disappointed. "Just not bad?" You playfully nudged his arm. "It's your turn to answer. "Fine." He pouted, crossing his arms over his chest but cracking a giggle. "I'll ask you the same question." "Very original, you." "It's called recycling, so tell me." "I did." "Huh?" "You." Your heart froze briefly before beginning to pound. "Me?" "Mn!" He said confidently. "You're not bad" he mocked. You swallowed. "I have a question about the rules." "Go on" "If I ask you anything, do you have to tell the truth?" "Yes! Nothing but. So you better tell me what you actually think rather than 'not bad'" "Is the friend you talked about actually you? And am I the person?" He tensed up, swallowing. "I guess it was obvious..." he mumbled, rubbing his arm and looking down at his lap. "I just..." he began, but reluctance interrupted him. "I understand." You said. He looked up, seemingly surprised yet still tensed "I make you feel less lonely." He nodded slowly. "Which makes sense. After all we're best friends." You continued. "... right." He looked away. "Best friends." Taehyung reached up to move his hair away from his eyes, still facing down as if he was considering something. "So... what do you think of me?" His voice sounded more serious. Where to start of course he was gorgeous! Wide shoulders, a build you'd die to slide your hands down, dark big eyes, a sweet smile with plump lips, sculpted perfectly and his honey skin. Person wise... he was someone you'd want to have as your person. "A nice person" He scoffed. "Seriously?" He seemed upset. He finally looked up, meeting your gaze. There was a sparkle in his eye. The warm light from the candle made his face glow even more. "I mean person as in the person you have, a your-person" "A nice your-person?" He tilted his head. "You told me yesterday in bed that you can feel like someone is your person because they bring you comfort and make all your problems go away and you feel better just by being in their presence! A nice that-type-of-person." "But I was talking about you!" He pleaded "And now I'm talking about you." "You are my person, what do you mean?" He asked, placing emphasis on "my" "That you're my person too. Am I being unclear?" "No, not at all. I just wanted to hear you say it." "So you tricked me?" You scoffed. "Not really." He leaned closer. "But maybe I set you up and you simply walked into my trap." "So now what? We're just going to sit here in denial over the fact that we both admitted to being each other's person?" You questioned, feeling slightly panicky and picking at your nails. Was this platonic or not? "We don't have to" he grinned. "But to be clear, I'm not talking about you being my person as in my other half, my best friend type person, even though you are that too bit this isn't it." "Are you trying to tell me that you're in love with me?" He tensed up again. Fuck it. "Then just say it, stop confusing me with your riddles and metaphors and I won't do the same. Just tell me-" His hand pressed against the back of your head as he leaned in almost all the way. He caressed the back of your head gently and your gaze dropped to his soft pink lips with the tiny freckle to the side. You leaned in close enough to brush a gentle touch before Taehyung pressed you closer for your lips to finally collide. It started off desperate yet a little shy. You pressed back, grabbing at his sides and the kiss deepened. Your heart was pounding. Never did you expect he'd just go for it and kiss you when you showed some bold courage towards him but you didn’t have a slightest regret because he tasted so good against your mouth. His plump pink lips so passionate, so needy but also so gentle and triggering an explosion in your chest. Taehyung leaned over you, making you lay down on the couch as he crawled on top and it turned into an even wilder heated make out. Your hand tangled into his hair, his hand rubbed against the side of your waist under your top. Fearing it'd be the first, last and only, you wanted every single piece of this moment you could have. Unintentional, his touch triggered a soft moan to escape your throat, which subsequently triggered a groan from Taehyung. Making a sound like that with his voice should be illegal. It did things to you, things you didn't want to confess. But the box of secret confessions was torn open within seconds as Taehyung, a heavy breathing mess suddenly pulled away from your lips and landed by your ear, exhaling deeply. "Fuck, I'm hard." He groaned and you knew the box was flying out the windows with your filthy confession floating aimlessly around for him to hear but all you managed to stutter out was a choked "huh?" "If you knew how long I've wanted you for." He whispered. "How scared I've been of being rejected because I knew it'd shatter me." The hopeless romantic you knew he was made his attendance known. "A friend?" You chuckled. "Maybe I set myself up with that one, I admit. But I was hoping you'd catch on." He chuckled, still breathless. He planted a kiss against your neck. Were you about to have sex? Would it lead to that? Did you mind? Certainly not... Taehyung pushed up slightly, looking down at you. "May I?" You nodded and he smiled widely, pressing a kiss to your lips. Shifting, he easily found his place between your thighs and grinded up against you slowly with pressure, causing both of you to exhale into a sweet needy moan. Your feelings felt scattered all over the place but this wasn't the time to pick them up. You wanted to let go, to surrender, just for this moment. Let go of everything clawing at your back, clouding the sunny skies and draining you. There is nothing more exhausting than smiling pretending everything is ok while whatever inflated issue in beast form is clawing its nails across your back and the scars sting like lemon juice was just rubbed all over you, feeling disgusting and sticky, let alone in pain and with a sore back from the held tension. He grinded again, sensually this time as the tip of his nose travelled up your neck, inhaling your sweet scent. "Mmm" he hummed softly. Your hand made its way to his nape as he settled by your neck. "I could fall asleep here." He chuckled. "Right here in your neck, it's so warm and smells so nice. It's more effective than lavender." "Are you enchanted by my odor?" He laughed his trademark bubble laugh. "I wish you knew how much fun you are." He squeezed you, rubbing up firmer to you with a desperate grunt. "Fuck I can't take it anymore." He stood on his knees, crossing his arms in front of him and grabbing the hem of his sweater, pulling it up and off, exposing his soft skin and toned chest as it fell to the floor. His hand reached for the button on his pants but before making it to the zipper his attention returned back to you with his hands sliding up under your top and pulling it up over your head. "I just want to make sure again... is it ok?" He asked, eyes big. "Yes, touch me, kiss me, do whatever you want just don’t leave the couch. At least not without me." He smirked at this, finally able to surrender to his greed. Taehyung reached for the waistline of your pants, unbuttoning, unzipping and pulling them down your hips with your underwear going off with them. His fingers softly rakes over your skin as he travelled down your legs, your hips lifted to assist him and then they were tossed onto the floor. He reached for his own zipper again but you sat up, quickly swatting his hand away and reaching for it yourself. He was on his knees between your thighs. You pulled them down, sliding your hands over his soft curved hips, revealing his tight fitted boxers with little to any space left for his hard on. You swallowed. He blushed. Relieved that Taehyung took over the lead again you lied back down as his hands gently pushed you back, slipping the bra straps off your shoulders and reaching behind you to unhook and free you from your final piece of clothing. But with this one he wasn't in a rush. He slowly tugged at the lacey fabric, revealing your chest to him as he bit his lip. "Wow." He mumbled and his patience was gone. One hand grabbed your left boob, feeling it and squeezing it softly as the other slipped into his boxer to touch himself. He whimpered, seemingly trembling as a result of his desperation and the discomfort he must be feeling in those tight pair of... he let go of your boob, quickly pulling his boxers down and himself out. You felt your core twist and ache and his boxers joined the pile of clothes on the floor. Taehyung fell forward onto all fours on top of you. Fully exposed, fully erect and a full sight to take in in the dim light in the dark. Distracted and eyes travelling all over him, his hand suddenly cupped your chin, tilting it up for you to face him. His nose graced over yours in a sweet eskimo kiss before his lips, just as gently pressed to yours. Taehyung's hand slid down your neck, your chest and down until he found himself. Your toes curled as you felt his touch where you wanted him the most in this moment, the tip of him slowly sliding up and down your slit, triggering your need even more. Taehyung let out a shaky exhale. His lips were parted and eyes staring right down at your exposed curves. He positioned himself, slowly sliding the tip in, just to feel... just to get some urgent relief... he leaned his head back and his hands landed a tight grip of your waist. He couldn't take it anymore. Slowly and carefully he began to push. Making sure by studying your every expression that he wasn't hurting you and that it felt good. A sweet whimper escaped you, causing him to grin in delight as he pushed in deeper. He was thick... the gentle stretch he caused felt amazing and you couldn't stop yourself from clenching around him, making him moan and managing to make you even wetter just by the sound. With a soft grunt he slipped in all the way. Giving you a moment to adjust to his size, he moved his hand up to caress your cheek with the back of his hand. His touch felt like magic. Like a gentle feather smoothing over your cheek, but slender and strong, with long dainty beautiful fingers. You leaned into his touch. "Does it feel ok?" He whispered. You gave a reassuring nod. He pulled his hips back and thrusted back in, not too soft and not too hard he picked up a slow but deep rhythm for his movements. Your hands felt their way up and across his back, studying every curve and where he naturally flexed as he moved. His hands were firmly holding you in place at the waist, every desperate exhale and every shaky inhale sending almost an ASMR like tingle down your spine via your ear until your name suddenly slipped his lips. Most people feel a fuzzy like feeling inside hearing their proper name be called but this... this was unlike no other time. His deep voice, following a whimper, exhaling your name like a magic spell and it fading into a shiver-causing moan. To put it simply it was the sexiest thing you've ever heard and it activated a whole new part within you that felt foreign but so so so good. Like your blood had suddenly turned into liquid gold, all happy hormones releasing in a firework spelling the world "nothing else matters" in an imaginary sky. You wrapped your arms tighter around him, moaning his name out felt liberating. And it clearly triggered an equal reaction. His cheeks were already flushed and his eyes went wide. He smirked, growing more desperate, fucking your harder and deeper, chasing release. "Please cum for me." He whispered, pleading. "Please." He didn't need to place a formal request, you were already loosing yourself. The only sound echoing in the darkness being the roaring wind and rain along with your breaths and groans and the sound of his hips and your thighs. Wet, heavenly sounds to you. His sweet moans, his broad back, his dick... everything about him made you feel euphoric. The ever building tension below, the sweat forming on his forehead... "I'm gonna cum" he whimpered. Thinking your body couldn't possibly react stronger to him than it already was, it did. The thrusts grew faster, grunts louder and you could feel yourself leak even more. Back arching, tension growing... it felt even tighter now... you could feel him so well, every movement until you suddenly came un-done with a loud whimper to his ear, setting him off into his own orgasm, cumming deep inside with a string of "oh"s and groans, gritting his teeth together and tensing his face in a greedy expression. He slowed down to a halt, remaining inside, breathless on top of you. The light on the sofa table had reached its end and the faint scent of smoke filled the air as the flame went out, making the room completely pitch black. Taehyung's face nuzzled softly against your neck, inhaling the scent of you deeply and being soothed. "Wow." He coughed, followed by a groan. "Wow." You repeated, happy that the light went out so he couldn’t see your flushed face. "You ok?" He whispered, vulnerability present in his voice. "I didn't go to hard right?" "It was amazing." He let out a breath of release and an awkward chuckle. "I'll pull out.." he said shyly, moving his hips back slowly and gently, slipping out. To your surprise, Taehyung climbed off of you, standing on his feet. The cold air made your nipples ache and your skin shiver. You wanted your human blanket and source of heat back. But you didn’t have to wait for long. A pair of strong arms slid in under you, lifting you up with ease. "The sofa is too tiny." He carried you into your bedroom, gently putting you back down on the bed and laying down on his side next to you, pulling you close to his chest where his heart was still pounding hard. He hugged you tight, caressing the back of your head. His lips pressed against the crown of your head gently. "My good girl." He whispered, sounding almost proud. Your cheeks burned and a weird sense to cry bubbled up but you quickly swallowed it and hugged him tighter, burying your face against his chest. Never had you thought being called a good girl, specifically "Taehyung's" good girl would be able to move you to tears. But maybe it's what you needed to hear, mixed with the hormonal serotonin cocktail your body just released upon you. "You'll always have me." He nuzzled his nose in your hair. With a click the power came back on, including your pink hue nightstand lamp next to the bed. Taehyung's cheeks were deeply flushed, amplified by the flattering pink light cast over him. You giggled. Had this really just happened? Because it felt so right. Or was it just the relief of sex? But masturbating had never made you feel this emotional before... You looked up at Taehyung's face again and he smiled softly, his hand caressing your bare back up and down. It was definitely him.

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