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outpost51 · 9 months

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— The Unlikely Adventures of Bitchface and Go F*ck Yourself (18+)

Expiration dates are for bologna and bad boyfriends, not sisters.

Chapter WC: 8,363

Warning(s): violence, gore

{READ HERE ON AO3} or below the cut ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Dillon was grateful for the emergency towels Cheryl kept in the trunk, because both she and Daisy were covered in enough mud to start another garden for their mom.

“I think we’ll need to hose off in the backyard.” Daisy’s voice was soft, but Dillon’s nerves were so frayed she almost ran a red light. If her sister was affected by the jolt, she didn’t show it. “Like when we were little, remember?”

“Yeah,” Dillon replied numbly. Of course she remembered. Her sister’s death forced her mind to unlock every happy memory they ever made together to protect it from the trauma of losing her. The sun had just started its ascent when they pulled into the driveway. She felt like a robot helping her sister out of the car and sneaking around the back of the house; her limbs were stiff and her heart was shuttered the whole way when she knew she should have been ecstatic — Daisy was back, but at what cost? Had her sister left anything behind? Would she be forced to relive the night she died in her dreams night after night? Would she even dream anymore?

Would she ever smile again?

A cold blast of water hit her square in the ass and she squealed, then nearly collapsed as a wheezy giggle filtered through the stuttering stream of the hose. Oh, how she missed that sound, even as weak as it was. When she turned, Daisy was looking down at herself, clad in nothing but the frumpy church dress she’d been buried in and holding the drooping hose in both hands, as if she couldn’t believe she was standing in our yard again. “I’m alive,” she whispered, and Dillon wasn’t sure if those two words broke her heart or made it swell so large it popped.

“That’s good… right?” She suddenly wasn’t as sure of her actions as she was when she first lit the candles.

Daisy dropped the hose to prod at her stomach, chest, and face. The pause was long enough for Dillon to give herself two separate internal lectures and a mild anxiety attack. “Yeah,” she finally replied, an echo of her sister. “When my car landed… I wanted to text you. I wanted to tell you I was sorry I wouldn’t make it in time, and that I loved you, but I think my phone went out the window, or maybe I dropped it.” She wrung out the hem of her dress, and the action was so unnervingly… normal. “I thought about how sad you’d be, and Mom and Dad. I had so much I needed to tell you and I just, I couldn’t stop crying, I couldn’t find my phone—”

Dillon didn’t know what she expected when she brought her sister back; maybe something shambling, maybe a hollow echo, but not… normal. “Daze, it’s—”

“I know, I know. It was such a silly thing to fret over, wasn’t it?” She looked up and smiled. It wasn’t the same one that brightened the breakfast table every morning. “Think Mom’s gonna flip if we waddle in with our clothes soaked?”

Dillon shook her head. “I think she’ll fuss about us catching cold,” she snorted, then froze. “Fuck, I’m sor—”

“Whatever for?” Daisy’s eyebrows crinkled in sympathy. “Oh, Dill, I’m not upset at you, it just feels weird being back in my body, and my stomach kinda hurts, and I’m still trying to shake off the heartache.” She closed the distance between them and sank to one knee to hug her little sister.

That was it, that was the thing that finally broke what thin veneer of composure Dillon had managed to work up on the way home. “Because you died?” she sniffled.

Daisy lifted her head, resting her chin on Dillon’s chest. “Because I lost my sister, too.”

There was no telling how long it took them to stop sobbing on each other, but the sun had almost cleared the copse of trees at the edge of the neighborhood by the time they stumbled through the front door. The smell of bacon and eggs assaulted Dillon’s senses and made her knees wobbly. She hadn’t eaten since picking at breakfast before they left for the funeral.

“Cheryl, we’re home!” she called, toeing off her soggy boots by the door.

“Who’s ‘we’ this morning?” Cheryl didn’t look up from the stove. “Did you pick up Moira?”

Daisy waved at her back. “Hi, Mom.”

A pancake hit the ceiling and stuck there. Their mother might have, too, if she wasn’t in heels. Her scream made Dillon’s ears ring, though.

“That’s what you get for springing the werewolf thing on me last year,” Daisy mumbled as she made her way towards the stairs. “I’m gonna get cleaned up for breakfast. Did they find my phone by my car?”

Cheryl shook her head numbly.

“Bummer,” Daisy sighed, and continued up to her room.

The door had just barely shut before Cheryl was on the phone with her ex husband. “Darren? Darren, shut up, I don’t care if you’re at the office, it’s never mattered before,” she huffed. “Daisy’s home.”

There was a pause, a few muffled words Dillon couldn’t make out. Her mom hung up the phone and turned to her. She suddenly wanted to be anywhere but shoveling pancakes in her mouth at the kitchen counter. “Dillon Marie, what in God’s name did you do?”

“I’m pretty sure a god was involved, but I don’t think capital-G had anything to do with it.” That was apparently not the correct answer, because the fork was removed from her hand and her mom’s fists went to her hips. “A weird lady gave me a zombie recipe book when I stayed behind at the grave. I was desperate and stupid, I know I shouldn’t have messed with forces unknown, but Daisy—”

“What book?”

Dillon retrieved her bag, then the book inside it. “I did what it said to do. It worked, but Daisy’s headstone—”

“Your dad doesn’t remember.”

“Remember what?”

“That your sister died.” Cheryl flipped through a few pages. Raised her eyebrows a few times. She set the book down and went down to the basement, leaving Dillon alone at the counter with a massive stack of pancakes. Unattended. Four fell prey to her grabby hands before Cheryl returned.

With a severed head, its face frozen in a scream.

That she promptly whacked against the counter over and over until it cracked open.

“You cut up bodies three nights out of the month, pickle,” Cheryl chided as her daughter lost her pancakes in the sink.

Dillon looked at her mother with a mix of shock and disgust. “Yeah, I cut ‘em up, I don’t brutalize them.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, it’s not like it’s bleeding.” Cheryl dropped the pulpy remains in her daughter’s outstretched hands. “Do something with that, please. I need to scramble this before your sister comes back down.”

With her mind completely dissociated from her physical form, Dillon sputtered, “Like what? I can’t just throw this in the trash!”

Cheryl exhaled through her nose. “Of course not, that’s wasteful. Put it in a bag and put it back in the freezer. I’ll boil it later to make freezie-pops.” She scoffed at Dillon’s continued perturbation. “What? Werewolves get hot, too. It’s too much work to fill a kiddie pool with ice for Gus to roll in every time we go on a run. Get some of my bacon while you’re down there.”

Dillon inhaled to respond, but swallowed the thought at her mother’s look.

Until she returned from her task. “Who’s Gus?” she asked as she set the paper-wrapped package on the counter. She’d taken to labeling the meat in their freezer according to what living thing in came from after one unfortunate incident involving a pig-bacon and people-bacon mixup that left her with far more questions about herself than she ever wanted answered.

The stairs creaked under a weight much more significant than Daisy’s, and the clicking of heavy claws on the kitchen floor prickled painful gooseflesh over her whole body. “I heard my name,” a gruff voice rumbled behind her as a massive shadow fell over the kitchen. “Pancakes?”

Cheryl smiled up at the mountain of scruffy black werewolf draped over her head and shoulders. Like he belonged there. Much too fucking comfortable for Dillon’s liking. “Mmhm, eggs and bacon, too. Dillon resurrected her sister.”She pushed the grabby wolf-hand away from her pan. “Don’t touch the scrambled ones, Gus-Gus, there’s brain in there.”

Their guest — or intruder, by Dillon’s perspective— looked like he told his mother he wanted to be a cloud when he grew up and subsequently made weightlifting his entire personality. His piercing yellow eyes might have been intimidating if Dillon hadn’t seen the same glow in her mother’s. “Daisy died?”

“Long story.”

He grunted in response. No shock, no theatrics. Was it such a casual thing in their world? “Coffee?”

“Still fresh. Make Dilly a cup, would you? I doubt she’s gotten any sleep.”

Dillon accepted the mug with far more grace than she expected she would have when faced with a potential — “So are you gonna make Cheryl an honest woman, or do I need to go put my boots back on?”

Gus choked, sputtering black coffee out of his nose. It matted down the thick, fluffy fur on his chest in twin rivers like tire tracks through a cornfield.

“Dillon Marie!” Cheryl’s hands went to her hips.

“There’s a naked wolfman in our house, Cheryl!”

There was a squeak of surprise from the stairs, rapid thumping away, and finally Daisy skidded into the kitchen, one of Darren’s abandoned golf clubs in her hands. She wound up, ready to swing.

Cheryl nearly turned purple. “Gus, I am so sorry, they’re just protective.”

“No harm done, Cherry, I’m the same way with my mom,” Gus snorted as he scrubbed the coffee out of his fur with a kitchen towel.

The outrage from the girls was simultaneous, though the volume was inversely proportional to their sizes — where Daisy was softly inquisitive, Dillon shattered a wine glass in the rack above the sink. The jolt of energy almost, almost startled her enough to derail her tirade.

“Cherry?”

“Cherry!”

“Dillon!”

“Rasso,” announced another newcomer, who caught Daisy’s golf club in a sandy-furred hand an inch from his head. “Nice swing. Why are we yelling names?”

“Oh, there’s a naked werewolf in our kitchen,” Daisy replied. “He hugged Mom, I think, Dillon’s protective.” She looked at her captured golf club, then up further to Rasso’s face. “You pulled me out of the car.”

The action in the kitchen froze as everyone looked to the eldest Monroe daughter on the stairs; Gus had Dillon in both hands, held aloft in a rocketship pose, she had one of his ears in a vice grip, and Cheryl was doing her best to keep one eye on her youngest daughter and the other on her oldest.

Rasso tilted his head. “What car?”

“Long story,” the kitchen inhabitants intoned in unison.

Daisy’s bright smile brought a choked sob from her sister. “Dill brought me back from the dead last night,” she explained. Pride coated every word in a gilded shell as they fell from her mouth in a waterfall of riches. “Nobody can remember, apparently. My friends think I lost my mind, but I remember your eyes. You held my hand and told me about the lake in Arizona so I wouldn’t be scared.”

“Well, how about that? Small world.” Cheryl gave Rasso a warm, grateful smile and plated Daisy’s breakfast. “Come eat, baby, you must be starving.” That warmth turned into a glare that froze him to the stairs when he stepped forward at the same time as Daisy. “If you want to stay for breakfast, you can ask nicely instead of assuming.”

Gus’s snicker abruptly ended in a choke as Dillon managed to land a solid kick to his Adam’s apple. He released her to the wild. “If this is what she’s like at twelve, she’ll be the first human to run with a pack by the time she hits twenty.”

Daisy at least had the courtesy to shove a bite of eggs in her mouth to hide her laugh.

“She’ll be nineteen in a few months, Gus,” Cheryl snorted.

As if the silent shock bulging his eyes wasn’t enough to give Dillon the vindication she deserved after her unjust humiliation, the wayward pancake chose that moment to unstick itself from the ceiling and crown Gus as the king of fools.

“Got something on your face, Gus,” she sneered as she plated up her own breakfast and took the spot next to Daisy. To her great disappointment, he merely put his hands up in surrender, then accepted the plate of meat and eggs Cheryl offered. He at least possessed the skill to read the room, leaning his hip on the counter to eat rather than sitting at the table. Rasso followed suit, and Cheryl took her usual seat.

“Dilly, I know you love your dad—”

“But,” Dillon huffed. She cut into her stack of pancakes a little more aggressively than necessary and with a little too much eye contact with her mother’s guests. Rasso twiddled his fingers in a cheeky wave. “There’s a ‘but’ in that sentence.”

Cheryl exhaled through her nose. “But I am an adult, and I can date if I’d like to, and I am not dating my packmates,” she concluded. “We just buried your sister and I needed my pack. That’s what werewolves do when we’re upset.” Dillon must not have hidden her watery eyes and wobbly lip as well as she thought, because her mother’s face softened with heartbreak. “We both needed to process things on our own in our own ways, pickle. Daisy wouldn’t be here if I made you spend time consoling me.”

The thought sobered the entire room, and they ate in a tense silence until Daisy broke it.

“Brett ran me off the road,” she admitted.

Dillon checked her pockets for her phone when a sudden rumble rattled the plates on the table, the windows, and her entire skeleton. She must have left it in her bag, then, and the violent pulse came from three pissed off werewolves.

Cheryl went unnaturally still. Politely set down her fork. “Excuse me?”

“He doubled back and pulled over to make sure I didn’t get out, I think. I saw his car, but he was making a bunch of vague threats the day before too.” Daisy frowned at her eggs, pushing them around the plate. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t you dare say what you’re about to say,” Cheryl warned. “Don’t you dare. None of this is on you, do you understand me? Not a single bit. You didn’t make him hurt you, or yell at you, or run you off the road, Daisy-mae, all you ever did was want somebody to love you, and that is not a fucking crime. Pass me the people-bacon, Dilly.”

Dillon passed the plate across the table without question. “Holy shit, Cheryl.”

“Language, pickle.”

Dillon was wired as she laid down to sleep that night, kicking her feet and tossing and turning until finally, mercifully, her brain and body gave in around two in the morning. She’d feel like shit when she inevitably dragged her carcass out of bed, but it was fine; she had her sister back, her mom was still single, and she was right about Brett. She just had to figure out how to bring him to justice, but that was a problem for future Dillon. Present Dillon just wanted to sleep.

A weight sank down on the edge of her mattress, stirring her slightly back into awareness but not enough to jolt her awake. Cheryl checked on her a lot that week, so it was nothing new. She’d probably kiss her forehead and go back to her room. “Dillon, wake up, baby,” she whispered.

“Muh?”

“I need you to drive me somewhere. I’ll buy you burritos.”

Dillon pulled her blanket up higher and scrunched her nose up. She didn’t want burritos. She wanted to go back to sleep. “Why?” she grumbled. “It’s late.” The overhead light seared her eyes even behind her eyelids. Fuck it. She peeled one open to see what all the fuss was about. The other followed suit with gusto.

Her mother stood over her in her silky, auburn-furred glory, wolfed the fuck out and clearly ready to party; her gardening belt was strapped around her waist and loaded down with knives, a hammer, duct tape — “I thought werewolves didn’t need weapons to hunt,” Dillon slurred.

“These aren’t for hunting, pickle,” Cheryl growled. “They’re for making that piece of shit wish he never looked at your sister.” She pulled out a screwdriver, twirling it around between her fingers. “And to make sure he never looks at another girl again.”

Dillon had her helping-Cheryl-in-the-garden pants on and her backpack slung over her shoulder before her mother could utter another word. It was funny what a little time and a heaping spoonful of trauma could do to someone; just two years ago, she was worried about disposing of a body her mother left on the front lawn, but now? She was more than happy to help her make one.

She plugged the address Cheryl sent her into the car’s GPS, handed her mom the aux cord, and off they went to pay a visit to her sister’s murderous piece-of-shit ex.

A murderous piece-of-shit ex whose car was not in the driveway of his parents’ grotesquely huge house. “Cut the lights and stay here,” Cheryl hissed, and before Dillon could ask why and what she was doing, she was halfway across the yard, loping silently through the shadows to check all the windows. One must have been open, because her ass shimmied right inside and Dillon felt her heart stop. What if they got caught? Was her mom going to murder Brett’s parents? That wasn’t part of the deal, she didn’t sign up for —

Cheryl slammed into the car, a shirt in her mouth. “Drive, pickle!”

Once she stopped screaming and remembered how to breathe, Dillon floored it. “Where are we going?”

“To the edge of the neighborhood, I can catch his scent from there.” She took a deep whiff of the shirt and discarded it at her feet before rolling down the window. “Slow down at the intersection, I think I have it.” Cheryl hung her head out the window and sniffed a few times. Her snout abruptly jerked to the left. “That way, go! But stop at each intersection and I’ll tell you whether to turn or stay straight.”

They tracked him to a gas station a few miles down the road. Dillon pulled the car up behind a truck to stay out of sight while Cheryl kept a lookout. She didn’t know what he could possibly be doing that took half an hour, considering his was the only other car in the parking lot, and she didn’t want to know.

Cheryl climbed back in and rolled up her window. “Keep the lights cut until it’s too dark to see the road, and don’t follow him too close, not yet,” she said, keeping her voice low and steady. She was way too calm about what they were doing. What Dillon suspected they’d be doing next. Just what did her mom get up to on her runs besides hunting predators in the park? “You okay driving, or do you need me to shift back? I’m not going to make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with. We can even turn around if you want to, but once we leave this parking lot, we have to commit.”

“Commit to what?” Dillon didn’t think she wanted the answer. She wanted to be blissfully unaware until the very last minute.

Cheryl answered anyway. “We’re gonna run this motherfucker off the road and make him wish he didn’t survive.”

Dillon swallowed. She needed less time to think about it than she probably should have. He hurt Daisy, and if he wasn’t hurting Daisy, he’d hurt someone else, and no one was doing anything about it. It ended tonight. “Okay,” she breathed. “Let’s do this.”

She kept the lights off as they drove in silence until she couldn’t make out anything in the dark but Brett’s taillights. “I can’t see anymore,” she said.

Cheryl nodded. “Count of three, turn on the brights and lay on the horn. Three… two…”

Dillon clicked the headlights all the way up and slammed all her weight on the horn. Brett swerved, but stayed in his lane.

“Do you trust me?”

Dillon nodded, afraid to take her eyes off the road. Her mom might have been practically invincible, but Dillon was still very much a small human with bones that broke and skin that cut.

“Speed up, get beside him in the left lane.”

She pressed the accelerator as hard as she could with her limited reach.

When their windows were side by side, Cheryl barked, “Now flip his ass the bird.” Dillon gladly did so. Her mom rolled down her own window and snarled. Where she expected to see anger on Brett’s face, she saw only palpable fear. “He’s gonna run. Let him.” Sure enough, he sped up with a sudden screech of tires. “Keep on his ass, baby!”

It was exhilarating. Terrifying. Was that how Cheryl felt when she ran free during the full moon, hunting the worst of the worst?

When her mom screamed, “Clip his flank!” she jerked the wheel without hesitation. There was a sickening crunch like breaking bone and Brett’s candy-red car lurched hard towards the shoulder. His front tire caught on something and the whole thing went airborne, flipping sideways twice before landing on its side. It slid into the woods running along the interstate and Dillon hit the breaks, skidding to a squealing stop a hundred yards away, heart pounding, breath coming in ragged pants.

It was a lot easier to think about when it wasn’t real. When she wasn’t faced with the glossy smear of fluids Brett’s car left behind. When her bones didn’t ache from the impact.

“Holy shit,” she wheezed. “We just killed somebody. We fuckin’… oh my god. Oh my god, we killed—”

“Back it up, Dilly, come on, we can’t make assumptions,” her mom urged.

She nodded numbly and carefully reversed the car until her mom held up a hand to stop her.

Cheryl was out of the car before Dillon could even park, bounding down the hill on all fours with an excited howl. She’d never seen her mother hunt, just the aftermath, and for a few seconds, the logical, human part of her brain made her hesitate. They ran him off the road. If he survived, he’d be scared out of his mind and probably wouldn’t fuck with Daisy ever again.

It was the probably that boiled her blood and thawed her feet. He didn’t spare Daisy a second thought except to make sure she wasn’t getting back up. There wasn't room for probably.

They were going to make it a definite thing.

She could have her morality crisis later, after she’d taken the eye that he owed.

They found the car flipped on its side, slotted between two trees like a CD on a rack. The engine was still ticking to the beat of whatever country song warbled out on the radio’s dying breaths.

Dillon kicked her foot up on the door and leaned into the smashed window. “Sup, bitch,” she spat. Brett’s eyes weren’t quite focusing, and he squinted like she was blurry and swayed like she was floating around. He sure as hell didn’t have a problem seeing six-foot-nine Cheryl hulking behind her. “You’ve met my mom, yeah?” She leaned in closer to sneer in his face. “You’re about to meet your maker.” He got half a scream out before Cheryl ripped his door off with one hand and yanked him out of the car with the other.

“How did you like that taste of your own medicine, Mr. Lawson?” Cheryl asked sweetly, or as sweet as she could through an elongated snout and dozens of very big, very sharp teeth.

“How’d you… nobody else rem-remembers,” he slurred. He definitely had some kind of head trauma. Oh well. “You wrecked my fucking car, you psycho bitches.”

Cheryl pulled him closer in case he didn’t see her dozens of very big, very sharp teeth the first time. He kicked his feet uselessly. A mouse dangling in the talons of a flying owl. “Tell Little Red Riding Douche what the book said, Dilly-willy.”

Dillon climbed up on her mom’s back and held up the book. “When somebody dies tragically, it makes a shallow scar on the world and a deep one for people directly affected by their death,” she explained. “When they come back, it heals that shallow scar and erases it from everyone’s memories, but the deep scar stays. Cheryl and I were waiting up all night for Daisy to come home when your itsy-bitsy teenie-weenie havin’ ass decided your poor widdle feelies were too hurtsy-wurtsy over getting dumped like the trash you are.”

Brett bared his teeth. Cheryl bared hers. Brett pissed his pants.

“So we remember,” Dillon continued. “We remember how it felt to bury her, and you remember because you’re the reason we had to.” She pointed the book’s spine at Brett. “But you? There’s not gonna be enough of you left for your folks to bury.”

“Pick a piece to leave behind,” Cheryl sneered.

Dillon thought it would make her sick, the crunch of bone, the slick squelch of viscera being torn inch by inch from a living, screaming person. He was another human being, flesh and bone like her. It should have. She knew that on a logical level, she should have been repulsed. Guilty. Afraid.

Maybe losing her sister broke something in her. Maybe it had been broken long before that, when she butchered John Doe. Or even before that, when Darren and Cheryl divorced. Maybe, maybe, maybe. The maybes didn’t matter anymore. Life was too short for maybes.

Dillon pulled a filleting knife from Cheryl’s gardening belt. “I never liked you, Brett,” she said, gently pushing the point of the blade under his chin.

“Fuck you,” he spat, turning his head blindly to find the source of her voice. Cheryl hadn’t waited around to use the screwdriver. “Dunno why my Daisy even bothered with your emo little ass. I told her not to fuck with you anymore, it fucked up her image.” He coughed up a wad of phlegm and blood.

“First of all.” Dillon applied more pressure and drew blood. He screamed. “I’m not emo, I’m goth, there’s a fucking difference. Not that it’s gonna matter in about twenty minutes.” She looked up at her mom, who was lurking close by and picking her teeth like she was bored. Nice touch, Cheryl. “Ten if I get tired of you.” She pressed the knife in further. “And second, you lost the privilege to call her your Daisy the second you hit her, you worthless, pathetic little worm.”

Dillon didn’t know this version of herself. She didn’t know where it came from. It was twisted, angry, sadistic. She wasn’t any of those things.

But grief did funny things to people, made them do things they wouldn’t normally do.

And so did assholes.

“Pathetic? I make more in a week working for my dad than your whole family makes in a year. You’re nothing, noth—”

Brett’s tirade was cut short by a strangled yelp as Dillon brought her heel down between his legs until she felt a pop. “No, Brett. You made more in a week. Past tense, buddy.” She removed the knife. “And now you’re nothing but breakfast for the next couple weeks.”

“My dad—”

“Can fuck a better son into existence,” she barked, slicing her hand through the air. The ground shook. His body jolted and fell limp.

Cheryl nudged his prone form with her foot. Something sloshed around with the motion. “Shit, pickle, I think you liquefied his insides,” she muttered. “Might need to have a family meeting about—”

Something slammed into Dillon’s head, and she managed half a realization that it was the force of her mother catching her before the world went dark.

Dillon awoke to the world moving around her and a headache to rival the time she fell off the monkey bars in elementary school. Her upper lip felt tight, and when she rubbed at it, her hand came away crusted with blood.

“How’re you feeling, Dilly?” Cheryl’s voice was soft and gentle so as not to contribute to the pain she clearly expected.

Dillon grumbled in response, rolling her face across the cool surface of the door’s interior. The chill made it feel moderately better, so she opened the air vents on her side. Cheryl turned the air conditioning up without prompting. She heard the motors inside the door whir shortly before a strong gust of wind sucked her hair out the window. “Thanks,” she mumbled. Her throat was scratchy.

The car turned gently, but the speed stayed constant. She was about to ask where they were, but when she looked up, the sight of her mother hanging her head out the driver side window, ears back and mouth open, wiped all memory of potential questions from her mind.

Cheryl glanced back at her and a smile tugged at the corners of her maw. She leaned out further, rolling her head and lolling her tongue.

Dillon’s headache all but disappeared in the wake of a full on giggle fit, and when Cheryl howled with joy, she couldn’t help but do the same, though hers was much quieter and less haunting.

Her mom finally retreated into the car and rolled up the windows when they approached their neighborhood. There was a noise ordinance, after all, and the Homeowners’ Association was notoriously bitchy about it. The vice president once called the cops on a toddler greeting her mother, who had been deployed overseas, at nine p.m., because the volume of her enthusiasm exceeded the allowable limit. “So, we’re not telling Daisy what actually happened, right?” Cheryl proposed as they pulled into the garage.

Dillon snorted. “You got it, Mom.” She imagined the utter surprise on her mother’s face matched her own. She touched her fingers to her mouth to assuage the tingle; the word felt so foreign now, it was like she’d repeated a swear in another language. “Lights are still off,” she redirected, gesturing to the darkened upstairs windows. “I think we can get him down to the basement through the house, Daisy’s still asleep.”

Cheryl checked the tape binding the plastic tarp they wrapped around Brett’s body, ensuring the seals were tight and it wouldn’t leak on the carpet. Satisfied, she gathered the bundle into her arms and followed closely behind Dillon once she got the door unlocked. She wasn’t as silent as she was on a hunt thanks to the crinkly plastic, but between the two of them, they managed to get Brett’s body down to the basement and processed without waking Daisy.

As it turned out, they had enough time to get showers, change clothes, start a load of laundry, and get breakfast mostly done before the eldest Monroe daughter shambled into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes and yawning. “Turns out being dead isn’t the same as a long nap,” she sighed. “I feel like I haven’t slept in a month, it’ll take weeks to get back to normal.” She flopped down in her seat next to Dillon and sniffed at her plate, nearly drowning in her own salivation when one was set down in front of her. It smelled different than her sister’s, but not in a bad way. “What’s for breakfast?”

In unison, her mother and younger sister chirped, “Brett!”

She blinked slowly. Poked at the eggs. There were little greyish-pink bits hiding among the egg curds again, and her bacon had a different fat pattern than Dillon’s. “Mom…?” she hazarded.

“Yes, Daisy-mae?” Cheryl sank down across from her. Her wet hair was just starting to shrink up into gentle waves.

“Is this… actually Brett?”

Her mother took a few bites of her own bacon and eggs, and for a minute Daisy thought she wasn’t going to answer. “You read those articles I sent you, right?”

“Yes, Mom, I know I have different dietary needs now, and that’s fine, I’d just like to be in the loop if I’m helping you cover up a crime by eating the evidence.”

Cheryl grinned proudly. “That’s my girl,” she beamed. That was all the answer Daisy needed, and after another moment of hesitation, she tucked in.

A few days passed before the authorities located Brett’s car, but no Brett. From the evidence they did find, however — a few patches of thick fur, claw marks on nearby trees, the entire door ripped off — they concluded it was a bear attack. Coincidentally, there were quite a few empty liquor bottles covered in his DNA and fingerprints in his back seat, and in the absence of a body, they assumed he was drunk, drove off the road, and bears came across the wreckage. So while Brett thought he got away with murder for a little while, yet again the Monroe girls had him beat. They actually got away with it, and had enough meat in the freezer to last until the next full moon.

Two years later

The first sign something was wrong was how late Daisy was for breakfast — typically, she was up minutes after Cheryl to help out and was already on her second cup of coffee by the time Dillon dragged herself to the table. She took her new diet in stride, and was downright enthusiastic about it, learning and modifying recipes, mixing up her own spice blends, and even learning a few recipes for their mother and her packmates, too. That was just how Daisy was; she didn’t just make lemonade out of the citrus storm life threw at her, she made everything she could think of and used the leftover zest in a cocktail.

The second was her lack of pep. Even before she had her daily dose of caffeine, Daisy at least had a little bounce and bubble, but when she shambled down the stairs in an old t-shirt, looking like she hadn’t eaten in weeks and slept in just as long, Dillon knew something wasn’t right. “You okay, sis?” she asked. “Did you get a zombie cold?”

Daisy’s eyes took a while to follow her head as it turned to her sister, but they were still dull and unfocused. “I don’t… I’m not sure,” she replied, voice dazed, airy, quiet.

She went down in a heap of limbs.

Dillon shouted her name. No response.

Cheryl shook her. She was limp.

“No, no, nonono,” Dillon sobbed. “Not again, please, not again, you just opened your own studio, Daze, you can’t go yet, you can’t—”

Cheryl dropped a firm hand on her shoulder. “Go get your books, baby. I’ll call Denise. Her heart’s still beating, she’s still with us.”

It was the still that bothered Dillon. Still wasn’t a certain word. It wasn’t permanent. Still was what you said to people so they wouldn’t panic while the boat was sinking. It was still above water, sure, but it wouldn’t be forever. She sprinted up the stairs, not even acknowledging the pain in her chin, hip, and hand when she tripped on the top step in her haste. They didn’t have time for her to lick her wounds. She could do that later, when Daisy was back to being Daisy.

She had only just set down the last of her books on the table when the front door slammed open and Denise jogged in, kitted out in her hunting gear — khaki cargos, black tank top, boots, utility belt, entirely too many weapons for the current situation but sometimes, somehow, still not enough for the particular brand of nasties she hunted — with her short brown ponytail swishing behind her. “What can we do to help, girls?” She always called them girls, despite Cheryl being thirty-eight and Dillon nearly twenty-one; she was the second oldest in Cheryl’s friend group at forty-eight. “Where’s — oh, Daisy,” she gasped.

Dillon raised an eyebrow. The fresh piercing did not like the motion and she winced. “We?”

Denise’s veritable army filed in — Charlotte, Dottie, Regina, Joyce — followed by Cheryl’s pack, or at least the ones who were off work. Dillon counted ten people in total, but then Bailey, her mother’s newest (and shortest, clocking in at two whole inches taller than Dillon) packmate, squeezed out of the crowd to hoist Daisy into her arms and move her to the couch so she could at least be a corpse with dignity.

No, not corpse, that was a bad thought, and Dillon didn’t need to be thinking those things lest they come to pass.

Eleven people had dropped everything they were doing and hauled ass to the Monroe house. For Daisy. Dillon quickly wiped the tears from her eyes and swore. She’d already put eyeliner on that morning. Fuck.

“Move, bitches!” Moira’s voice was the most heavenly sound, bellowing over the din of the gathered crowd’s planning and brainstorming. Regina didn’t even chastise her daughter for her piss-poor manners. Not with bigger things to worry about. The familiar jingle of her best friend’s heavy pants was the only warning Dillon got before she was tackled nearly off her feet in a tight hug. Her shoulder-length shock of pink hair enveloped Dillon in the familiar comfort of strawberry sparkle body spray. “Show me what to read, Pugsley.” They’d called each other Wednesday and Pugsley for as long as Dillon could remember, because even when they wanted to kill each other, deep down they had an unbreakable bond. Moira dropped her voice to a stage whisper. “I brought the sacrifices.”

“Please don’t sacrifice us,” Faith quipped, dropping an armload of books next to Dillon’s.

Rosie, ever the perfect twin, was right behind her with an entire basket of baked goods and other snacks. “Mmhm, we’d be really rotten sacrifices. Scream the whole time. Mom and the other church ladies sent this, we were at Bible study.”

“When Daisy wakes up, I’m so thanking her for picking today to pull a Princess Aurora.” Dillon appreciated the when, and knew Faith picked the word on purpose. When was certain. When was sure.

Bonnie dropped her backpack in the only empty spot left on the table. She was the most recent addition to their friend group, having been dragged in by the twins a year prior when they met her in the local used book store. They liked her vibe, and thus Bonnie Lucas was adopted into the fold. “My cousin’s in town. You know, the one that’s spooky by our standards,” she explained, pulling out beat-up notebooks that smelled like incense and books that looked like they might have been bound in human skin.

“Damien?” Moira grimaced. It took a lot to make her cringe, but Bonnie’s cousin was definitely a lot.

Bonnie snorted. “Yeah, Eugene. Don’t call him Damien, it makes his ego annoying. Anyway, apparently he’s a necromancer for a private firm that like, brings rich old people back from the dead for succession issues, or whatever.” She scrunched up her nose. “Sorry, ‘resurrectionist’” she mocked. “He said it sounds like your ritual is wearing off.”

“What do you mean ‘wearing off’? I put her soul back in her body and she’s been taking really good care of herself,” Dillon sputtered.

“Yeah, he said you’re a fucking badass for managing it without any training whatsoever, by the way. And if you want a job that pays better than night stocking at Sprawlmart, he’ll vouch for you,” Bonnie replied idly as she flipped through her cousin’s books. “Here, look.” She set one of the possibly-skin books in front of Dillon and pointed to the page she was looking at. “This isn’t the same book you used, but see how this one says it lasts… five years, but in really pretentious magic terms? There should be a follow-up ritual in your book.”

Dillon looked through the pile of books on the table for the one the mysterious graveyard woman left behind, then thumbed through the pages until she found her ritual — still as vague as ever — and turned one more page. There it was right at the top, in bolder lettering than the rest:

TO BE EXECUTED BEFORE THE THIRD ANNIVERSARY OF RISING.

“Fuck,” she sobbed, quickly turning her head so the escaping tear wouldn’t damage the pages any further.

Moira looked up from the thick tome she was digging through. “Why can’t she just use that other one? It lasts longer.”

“Because it has to be the ritual specifically designed to follow the one used to bring back the person in the first place,” Bonnie explained, holding up something that looked like a textbook.

Rosie cocked her head and pushed her glasses up with a finger when they threatened to fall off with the motion. “And why can’t Dam— uh, Eugene do it?”

“Because he’s a fucking prick,” Moira scoffed.

“Because he probably costs money we don’t have,” Dillon corrected.

“You’re both right, but also wrong. Dillon has to do it. It’s her energy binding Daisy’s soul to her body.”

Faith furrowed her brows. “Well, why can’t we just let, ugh, this sounds so insensitive, Dill, I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath. “Why can’t we just let Daisy… uh, leave and then someone else can bring her back with a ritual that lasts longer?”

Dillon felt her heart shatter as Bonnie’s RBF softened like butter next to an oven. “If her soul gets detached, that’s it. Game over. People can only be resurrected once per reincarnation. She has to be refreshed by the third anniversary of her resurrection, by Dillon, out of that book, or Daisy’s gone for real this time.” Her lip wobbled, but the mask was back before Dillon could blink. “I’m really sorry, Dill. I wish I knew sooner.”

The twins called over the group before Dillon could tell them not to. They were just trying to help. Everyone was just trying to help, but their help was overwhelming, and she felt the heartbreak of inadequacy roiling within her. She couldn’t figure out the problem herself, other people had to step in and fix the mess she made, because she was stupid, and weak, and—

“Hey, stop,” Moira urged softly, pulling her into a hug to shield her from view. “You haven’t fucked around with magic in two years, Pugs, and you fucked around with it before without knowing anything about it. You can ask for help with this.”

She couldn’t, though, this was her mess, and her sister —

“You know Daisy would tell you the same thing, Dillon, you know she would.” Moira pushed her away to dab her sleeve under Dillon’s eyes. “Would I lie to you?”

She wouldn’t, and she was right. Dillon shook her head and looked up at the expectant crowd. “I have to—” Her voice cracked as she choked on a thousand emotions all at once. “I need—”

Moira stepped up and placed her hands on her best friend’s shoulders. “Daisy’s batteries are losing their juice, folks, that’s all,” she announced with all the confidence of a lighthouse in a storm. “Pugsley here just needs to reset her zombie clock, and we have a few months for her to train before Daisy goes critical.”

“What happens in a few months?” Cheryl asked.

Dillon tried to look everywhere but directly at her mom, but the tears came anyway, because no matter where she looked, she saw family. “We lose Daisy.”

“Ah, shit.” Regina’s brows sank as she dropped down to Dillon’s level and wrapped her in a hug. “We’re not gonna lose Daisy, pickle, you’re both Monroes. Monroe girls are unstoppable,” she cooed, peppering the top of Dillon’s head with kisses. She was the only other person that could call her ‘pickle’ and get away with it; she’d been Aunt Reggie since Dillon and Moira met in preschool and bonded over a vampire cartoon they both loved. Daisy and McKinleigh, Moira’s older sister, becoming fast friends sealed her place as an honorary Monroe. She could use Cheryl’s dumb nicknames if she wanted.

Her hair tickled Dillon’s neck and ears, and when she turned her head to escape it, she only managed to get the black shoulder-length waterfall up her nose. She tried not to sneeze on Regina’s very nice fleece jacket, even though she knew she was already smearing the remnants of her eyeliner all over her shoulder, but she couldn’t fight it. She bruised the bridge of her nose on Regina’s shoulder.

“D’you get snot on my jacket, missy?”

“Sorry, Aunt Reggie,” Dillon grumbled, wiping at the spot with her own hoodie sleeve.

A small noise in the living room drew everyone’s attention, and from the immediate, ecstatic uproar, Dillon knew Daisy was awake. “I need to tell her,” she insisted. “I need to be the one she hears it from. I brought her back, this is my—” Moira yanked a handful of her hair, knowing damn well what was about to come out of her mouth. “This is my thing.” Not much better than blaming herself, but at least Moira didn’t pull her hair again.

Regina let her go to start shooing people out of the house. Denise and a few of Cheryl’s packmates stayed behind ‘to help out around the house,’ which was code for ‘Cheryl didn’t want to be alone but was too proud to ask in front of a crowd.’

Dillon found Daisy sitting up on the couch, staring absently out the window and clutching a blanket to her chest. She looked confused, lost, unsure how she got there and where she was in the first place. “Daisy?” She perched as carefully as possible on the edge of the cushions, caging her sister between herself and the back of the couch. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I fainted in the kitchen and got hit by a train,” Daisy replied. She sounded distant, and when she finally turned to look at Dillon, her eyes weren’t as clear as they usually were. Was she going blind? “Did everybody come here for me?”

Dillon nodded. “Yeah, you had us worried for a second.” How did she even approach the subject? She couldn’t just say ‘hey, so, you’re dying, sorry.’ There wasn’t a segue in the world that would cushion that blow enough.

Lucky for her, she didn’t have to come up with one. “I’m dying, aren’t I?” Daisy was so matter-of-fact, so calm, so… accepting about it, it broke Dillon’s heart all over again. “I’ve felt a little off all week, but I didn’t want to worry anybody.”

“Daze, you can’t do that anymore. This isn’t a head cold you can sleep off.” Dillon took a deep breath to stave off the tears. She needed to be brave. Daisy was facing her second death with grace and—

“I’m scared, Dill,” she said softly.

So much for sucking it up. After several agonizing minutes of painful sobs wracking her body, she found herself leaning heavily against Daisy, her sister’s arm wrapped protectively over her shoulders and cradling Dillon against her collarbone while she played with her messy mop of hair, brushing out the tangles. Daisy was comforting her, when she should have been the one comforting her sister. “I just have to do another ritual to refresh your binding, or whatever, but I’m scared, too.”

“Because you haven’t messed with the magic stuff since Brett?”

Dillon made a noise in her chest.

“Mom told me what happened,” Daisy sighed, holding Dillon tighter so she couldn’t whip a betrayed look at Cheryl. “I asked, Dill. You know she can’t lie to us, it would break her. You scared yourself, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t try to… to—”

“Turn his guts into a smoothie?”

A bitter snort snuck its way out. “Yeah. That. I didn’t tell it to do that, I was just… angry. I was so angry, and I just wanted to shut him up, and I put my hand out like—” She repeated the motion from the woods, slicing her hand through the air in front of her. Nothing happened. She didn’t know why she expected anything different. “But it hurt, Daze. It hurt bad.”

Daisy hummed. “Maybe because you used it as a weapon, and a really big one at that. You’ll tear muscles if you try to sprint a mile without training or stretching. Magic is the same thing, isn’t it? Just using a muscle to bend the world to your will?”

Dillon shrugged.

“How long do we have?”

“Until next July. The twentieth. The ritual only lasts three years, and we can’t use a different one to make it last longer.” Dillon knitted her brows. “I’m so stupid, I should have studied it more and maybe I would have known that and picked a different one, or—”

Daisy shushed her with a squeeze. It wasn’t as strong as her hugs used to be. “It’s fine, Dill. I believe in you,” she said, with all the confidence she could muster in her weakened state. “You did it once, right? You can do it again. And even if you can’t, if the worst comes to pass, I won’t be upset. I got to see my family again and spend a few more years with you, and I’ll get to say goodbye this time. You gave me that, you know?”

Dillon’s lip wobbled. Her throat seized around everything she wanted to say and everything she couldn’t find the words for. She had to do it now. She had to, and she would.

Because Daisy believed she could.

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goldenponcho · 10 months

Text

You Can Lead a Castellan to Water…

Chapter 5: A Partnership

(There’s a random line from Terminator 3 in this chapter. Honestly one of the very few things I remember from that movie. It just fit.)

Gail reached to her toes, stretching her back as Ramon returned to find her feeling nearly as good as new. Her voice was still hoarse, and there was still a small patch of red in one eye, but as with everything else, she had heeled with incredible speed.

At this point, Ramon was convinced that there was something not entirely normal about Gail’s physiologically. Something more than just not being susceptible to the plaga. It grated on him that Lord Saddler apparently hadn’t seen the need to inform him of this, but he reminded himself that if Lord Saddler didn’t feel it important, then it wasn’t.

“Well, Miss Crane, I believe it is quite clear that you will be ship shape to begin work in the morning.”

“Good!” She reached an arm behind her head to stretch her shoulder, “This room is nice, but I’m ready for a change of scenery, to be honest.”

“Your first assignment will be the trolley that leads from the audience hall to the fire chamber.”

Gail did a double take, “F…fire chamber?”

Ramon smirked, “It is exactly what it sounds like.” He honestly loved the absurdly over the top rooms his castle held, and the fire chamber had been his very own addition as a young boy. It made him laugh now that his advisors at the time had given into such a whim, but it was one of the few joys he had remembered as a child.

Gail’s eyes brightened, “I’ve DEFINITELY gotta see THAT!”

“You will,” Ramon assured, masking genuine excitement as he was handed a stack of folded clothes by his right hand Verdugo, “Should your service here continue for long enough, you will see the entire castle.”

“Actually…kinda looking forward to it!” She had taken the clothes from Ramon before realizing what they were, “Oh! Thanks for washing these! I wasn’t sure I was getting them back.”

“They will be appropriate for your working hours,” he placed his hands behind his back, “However, I will have the servants bring a selection of appropriate clothing that you may attend dinner in.”

Gail cocked her head, “Dinner?”

Ramon gave a light nod, “It isn’t often that I am graced with company that retains the capacity for conversation…aside from the link I have with my Verdugos,” he motioned to the creatures flanking each side of him, “I intend to take full advantage while you are here.”

She nodded back, “Good point…”

“AND it will be one of several times I will be checking in with you throughout the day,” he fixed her with a warning glance before clasping his hands together, “Now, if you would follow me to your new accommodations, por favor.”

She bowed, the stack of clothes held to her chest, “Lead the way.”

The trek to her new room was surprisingly short. They went through the dining room and down a hall to a room that wasn’t nearly as cozy and decorative as Ramon’s room, but it was large with plenty of storage and not as drafty as one might have thought looking at it. There was a pallet tucked into a corner just beyond which was another door, similar to how his room had had two doors. It made sense that many rooms would have two so as to cut down on unneeded detours in a place so massive.

“This will be the most convenient place for you since it is not far from where I will have you working tomorrow.”

“Sounds good to me! Oh!” Gail set her clothes on the table next to her, “Speaking of which here’s the contract I whipped up today. I’ll just need a John Hancock from you, and we’re good to go.”

“Contract?” Ramon raised a brow at the old scrap of paper that he was almost certain had once been used to line one of the shoeboxes in his extra wardrobe, “Rather bold of you to think that this is a mutual employer/employee relationship, Miss Crane. You DO remember the circumstances under which you were hired?”

“Still, terms should be set,” she offered him the document, “I don’t think I’m asking much. Feel free to go over it and bring it back, obviously.”

He eyed her suspiciously before taking it from her, the thin paper crushing in his fist, “You realize this is not legally binding?”

“Sure,” she shrugged, “but we’ve gotta start trusting each other sometime. I’m not trying to double cross you; it’s all perfectly reasonable and doable. Just have a look when you can.”

After a pause, he seemed satisfied with her answer for the time being, and he turned back to the door with his Verdugos, “The servants will bring your toiletries and a bath soon. You will meet me in the dining hall in the morning at seven o’clock sharp,” he was about to close the door before he smirked with a start, “Oh! And do be careful! This part of the castle has been known to house the occasional snake now and then.”

She scoffed with a laugh, “Joke’s on YOU! I like snakes!”

Ramon peered through the crack of the door as he closed it, “It wasn’t a joke…”

The door creaked ominously closed, and Gail smiled before quickly getting her pallet situated to her liking. She put out the lantern he had supplied her and got to bed, chuckling to herself. Damn if she wasn’t starting to really like the little guy.

~*~*~*~

By the next morning, Gail was itching to get started on her new project. At least getting back to something that resembled her regular work would make her feel comparatively normal. She was ready almost an hour early and found herself glancing at the clock Ramon had provided for her at least every five minutes.

Finally, at six forty-five she decided it would be a good idea to arrive early. Coming to the door, she wondered if she had been locked in again, but twisting the knob she found she was perfectly free to leave her room. As she peaked through the door, however, she was met with a tall, lanky man wearing a black, hooded robe. Another one of Ramon’s brainwashed servants…

“Um…hi!” Gail waved awkwardly as the zealot turned to look down at her, “I’m…supposed to meet your-OUR master in the dining hall,” she shuffled around him, testing whether he would express any objection, “Just thought I should be early.”

He expressed very little interest, however, muttering something in Spanish, then resuming to stare directly in front of him just as he had probably been doing for hours. What a sad existence… She found herself hoping these people were so baked they weren’t aware of anything anymore.

“Alright,” she turned to continue down the narrow hallway where she could see one of the long tables already piled with fruits and pastries and various meats and cheeses. As she came around the corner, Ramon sat at the head of the table sipping a glass of red wine, the Verdugos, as usual, standing on either side of him.

Gail hooked her thumbs through the belt loops of her jumpsuit, “Hm! Thought I’d beat you here…”

Ramon swallowed his wine, swirling what remained in his glass with a smirk, “No one beats me at ANYTHING.”

She chuckled, “Anything?”

He smirked with a sideways glance, “Well…at anything that is worth my time beating someone at.”

“Haha! That’s a good way to look at it!”

Ramon gestured with his free hand to the chair adjacent to his, “Do have a seat, Miss Crane.”

She obeyed, scooting her chair in.

“And feel free to dig in,” he gestured again to the bountiful spread, “Sadly, most of this does not satisfy my own hunger these days. The plaga is quite carnivorous. But I would not want my new engineer developing scurvy…”

“Neither would I!” Gail reached to spoon some strawberries onto her plate, followed by a few different pieces of cheese and what looked to be some kind of cured bacon. “Are those cream puffs?!”

“Miguelito,” Ramon nodded, “They were my favorite as a boy.”

Gail wanted to scrape the whole platter onto her plate, but she settled for five of them for the time being, “So…you can’t eat ‘em at ALL anymore? That sucks…”

“It isn’t so bad. I simply do not crave them anymore.”

“You still drink wine, though?”

Ramon shrugged, glancing up from his glass, “I’ve wondered myself why that is. I’ve never been given to drunkenness, and I’m not so sure I could even BECOME inebriated anymore…but I still enjoy the taste.”

“I’m not a huge fan of wine, to be honest.”

Ramon scoffed, “I had gathered that…”

Gail giggled sheepishly, “I like a sangria, though!”

He sighed dramatically, looking into his cup as he continued to swirl it, “I suppose you simply lack sophisticated taste.”

It was her turn to playfully scoff, “I mean, you’re probably not wrong,” she popped a strawberry into her mouth and bit in, “Oh my god…” her eyes went wide, “thatwasthebeststrawberryI’veeverhadinmyentirelife…”

“Of course it is,” Ramon grinned proudly, “They were grown right here in Valdelobos. You won’t find better in all of Spain.”

“I’ll take your word for it on that one!” She bit into another one happily, leaning back to recline at a sideways angle in her chair, which didn’t seem to phase Ramon, so she assumed he wasn’t a stickler for strict table manners, “So…have you looked at my contract?”

“It so happens that I have,” he placed his wine onto the table and held out his hand as the red robed Verdugo produced said contract, “And I DID have some minor concerns.”

Gail nodded as she placed a strawberry onto one of her miguelitos.

“You wished to speak regularly with your mother on the telephone…”

She nodded, “I don’t want her to worry. If she doesn’t hear from me soon, she’s gonna get police involved,” she tossed her strawberry puff into her mouth, chewing it before continuing, “Not that I think they’ll find me; that might actually be to my advantage. But it’s a whole mess I’d rather not have my family go through.”

Ramon steepled his fingers, “And do you not think that such a call could be tracked?”

“Star six seven, dude, don’t y’all have that here in Spain? It keeps you from seeing the location,” she stacked a cube of cheese on a slice of cured ham, “Besides, I’ll play it real casual. I had an overseas job sprung on me just as my phone broke, and I’ve had trouble contacting her using my calling card. She won’t have any reason to suspect. Not to mention, she doesn’t even have caller ID.”

Ramon arched a brow, then nodded, “I will look into it and see what can be arranged. I don’t even own a telephone, so that will be the first obstacle.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Eight hour days with breaks and two days off per week I can do, but there will be limitations on where you may spend your time off. As I have said, the castle is not a playground.”

“Fair enough,” she chewed the bite of meat and cheese, “Mm! Ham’s good too!”

“Pay seems low, but that’s not at ALL a problem…” Ramon glanced at her slyly as she nearly choked on her glass of water.

“What the hell, man! By all means, bump it up if you’re willing to give me more!”

He looked up thoughtfully, grabbing his wine and crossing his legs, “Include my personal errands in your list of duties, and I’ll quadruple the price.”

Gail did a double take, “You gotta be shittin’ me…”

Ramon grinned, “No, Miss Crane, I am not shitting you.”

She smiled crookedly, “Why didn’t you people kidnap me EARLIER?! I’ll happily get choked out again for THAT kind of money!”

Ramon‘s grin grew as he raised his glass, “To our new partnership, Miss Crane.”

Gail grabbed her full glass of wine to raise, “Hell yeah!! To our new awesome partnership!” She downed half the glass before placing it back onto the table. “Oh, by the way, is there some kind of title I should address you by since I’m working for you? My lord or…your highness or something?”

He shook his head with a short laugh, “I’m not one for such formalities. Ramon is perfectly fine.”

“Then maybe you should just call me Gail. Miss Crane sounds like a bitchy middle school teacher.”

He chuckled again. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought the wine WAS beginning to heat up his cheeks a little, “Very well, Gail,” he stood, “Shall we begin?”

She stood to follow his lead, “Definitely!”

She trailed behind as he and his Verdugos turned to the room behind him. It was small and rather empty, but much more decorated than her new room. Perhaps it would usually be a social room full of chairs and furniture. In the next room, they followed a raised platform with what looked to be a caged vault below, guarded by a few servants. They crossed through another door, then down a narrow hall and through another where they came to a large, open room. They were atop the balcony that surrounded an empty space below.

“Do excuse the state of disrepair,” Ramon referred to the broken stone rails that lined the edge of the floor they stood on, “But as you can imagine, this is a centuries old castle, and not all has withstood the test of time. Sadly, our stonemasons have long since lost their skill in the craft. I don’t suppose you have any experience in the field?”

Gail shook her head, “Unfortunately not. But if you’re desperate, I could give it a shot. I have a basic understanding of how it works, and with some trial and error, I could maybe make something happen,” she chuckled, “I wouldn’t wanna lessen the property value, though.”

Ramon waved a dismissive hand, rounding the corner to another long hallway, “Property value is of very little concern to me. This castle will never belong to an outside buyer, and I somehow doubt many will appreciate my eccentric tastes.”

Gail shrugged, hands in her pockets, “I like it actually! It’s gothy, but you’ve got some bright areas like the garden. It’s a nice balance, and it’s got a great view. Even if the locals can get a little squirrelly.”

He laughed, “Then perhaps we have more in common than I had thought…unless you merely mean to flatter…”

She shook her head vigorously as Ramon reached the door to the next room, “All of my flattery is one hundred percent true. I don’t like paying fake compliments, even if I’m trying to get something out of someone.”

“And what do you wish to get out of me, Gail?” He tilted his head toward her in genuine curiosity, hand resting on the doorknob.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged casually, “I think I’m good for now. I’m still alive, and I’ve got some pretty sweet accommodations,” she smiled down at him, “All thing’s considered, I’m pretty content.”

Ramon gave a dry look, but the amusement was apparent as the corner of his mouth twitched, “Well, I am overjoyed for you…”

“Thanks!” She followed after him through the door, and the first thing she noticed was the blast of heat that hit her immediately. Directly ahead, she saw the cause. About fifteen feet into the room, there was a stone barrier and the other side dropped down out of view, and only a platform with large gears on either side clearly intended for locomotion sat at the unrailed edge in the center. She couldn’t see it, but the bright orange glow that was cast from below was clearly from a pool of lava.

“The fire chamber, I presume?”

Ramon turned, clearly not having acknowledged that the lava was even there, “What? Oh, nonsense! That’s just a lava pit. The other side is the entrance to the fire chamber.”

“Oh…”

She followed close behind him as he brought her to their destination. The room extended into a tunnel, and the same concrete railing from the lava room surrounded the start of a rail track and an ornate gondola. Set to the side was a simple wood table with a large toolbox.

“Wow! You weren’t kidding when you said tram!” She approached the cart, running a hand along the side, “This is some advanced technology for such an old castle.”

He placed his own hand on the beautifully sculpted gold detailing, “The third castellan, Gregorio the Architect, is responsible for the majority of the castle, and though he had not found a way to make them work to his liking in his lifetime, the framework for these systems were his doing.”

“Wow! What a legend!” Gail was unzipping her jumpsuit and tied the sleeves to hang at her waist, revealing a ribbed white sleeveless tank. Ramon noted the heavily detailed rattlesnake tattoo wrapped around her arm and extending onto her right shoulder. “Kids should be learning about this guy alongside DaVinci,” she bent to take a look at the undercarriage.

“I’m certain my ancestors preferred it that we remained unknown to the rest of the world. They were-“ he cut himself off at the loud creaking and scraping of metal. Gail was now standing with the front end of the gondola lifted four feet in the air, supporting it with only her arms.

“Well, I can definitely see that there’s some serious wear and tear on the wheel treads. I’ll either need a lathe to reprofile them, or we’ll need brand new wheels.”

When there was no answer from Ramon, she glanced down at him, to find him staring at her bicep. “Oh! Heheh! Uh…sorry…” she squatted to set the cart back onto the tracks, “I always forget that my strength is so freakish… Should have given you a heads up.”

Ramon shook off his dumbfoundedness, feeling a strange sensation in his stomach as he realized he had been staring at her like an owl, “Ahem…it seems…you have certainly entered the correct line of work…”

She exhaled, hands on her hips, “Yeah, I don’t like to brag, but…I’m…admittedly a bit of a hoss.”

“A bit…” he nodded with a cough before looking to the wheels she had been examining, “I would imagine that new wheels would be our easiest solution.”

She gave a shrug of her shoulder, “Seeing as you’ve got more money than you could possibly know what to do with, it probably is. BUT maybe we should know the full extent of the damage before making any final decisions.”

“An excellent plan!” He clasped his hands together, “Shall I leave you to your work then? I will send someone with lunch at noon. Should you need anything, alert one of my servants, and they will inform me.”

“Sounds like a plan!”

He turned to leave before Gail called back to him, “Hey, Ramon?”

He turned to readdress her, and she smiled softly, stepping toward him, “I just…wanna thank you again for everything. If it weren’t for you, I almost certainly wouldn’t be alive, so…thanks!”

She extended a hand to him, and after recovering from the surprise of being thanked, he took her hand to shake it, “It pleases me that I have rescued you from such a fate,” he looked up to appreciative, black eyes and felt the sincerity in them, “It would have been a waste for your end to come like that, and I am happy that Lord Saddler saw this as well.”

“Huh! You and me both!” Gail opened the toolbox, and her eyes brightened, “Ooo. Nice selection here...”

Ramon tilted his head with a light sigh, and after a few seconds, he fidgeted awkwardly, noticing the long silence, though Gail had not, as she rummaged through the tools.

“Well…ahem! I will leave you to it, then.”

“Ok!” She was now examining a large handsaw, “I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Of course…” he gave a light bow before turning to leave, Verdugos in tow.

He swallowed hard, heat coming to his face as he quickly retreated. What in the nine hells WAS she? The only creatures in his castle that should have been able to lift that cart were the two Verdugos at his sides. Certainly she looked strong, but surely no human being should be able to lift that much weight.

The thought occurred to him that she could have easily overpowered the couple of zealots he had been leaving at her doors. No. She was no normal human at all. Clearly, whatever this was was the reason Lord Saddler had wanted her and the reason she hadn’t taken to the plaga.

And she knew. There was no way she didn’t. She was still holding things back from him.

No matter. He would get the truth out of her. Only in time.

#ramon salazar #resident evil 4 #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #you can lead a castellan to water…

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inner-visionz · 5 months

Text

Magic City (2d x autistic transboy reader)

Morning after part 2

Start from the beginning

"Anyway, not that I don't enjoy your company but don't you have somewhere to be?"

My eyes go wide. "Uhh yeah I should go home". I begin to stand up by y/n stops me.

"Stuart your shoes are untied"

"Fuck uhh"

"..Do you need someone to tie them?"

"How did you know?"

She sits me back down then gets on one knee and starts to tie them. "You told me last night Murdoc would tie them. You forget how to sometimes, which is understandable you got hit with a car".

I'm baffled and don't know what to say besides stuttering, "I-I uh told you th-that much?". Not so charming on my part. I mentally slap myself for saying it. God,Murdoc is right, I am an idiot.

"You told me a lot mate, but dont beat yourself up about it. I still think you're cool", she says tying the last knot and standing up in front of me.

"Thank you", I look down at my shoes she just tied and start to tear up. It made me think of Murdoc and how I miss him. The more I think about it the more tears run down my cheeks. No no, stop it you don't miss him. I feel her pull my head to her stomach and run her fingers through my hair.

"You're okay, please don't cry", she says in a gentle hushed voice. I close my eyes and wrap my arms around her. She continues to run her fingers through my hair to soothe me. "Feel better? or I mean Feel Good? heh, im sorry bad timing".

I can't help but chuckle at her terrible joke as I let go of her. "It's fine luv. Yes I do feel good. I feel good Inc. actually. You know that's the name of the song not just feel good"

"Are you calling me a fake fan?"

I look at her confused. "You can't be a fan, you're a human not something with blades that cools people down. Even so you can't be fake"

She laughs a little. "No, I mean a fan as in a fan of the band".

My face flusters up realizing my stupid mistake. "Oh...yeah, sorry"

She laughs. "Its okay, its kinda cute. In a weird sort of way, I mean the circumstances was awful and im sure its not fun for you..eh I'll stop talking".

"Im glad you like to ramble too," I smile up at her as reassurance.

She nods. "Umm I'll see you later then?".

"Oh right", I stand up from my chair then wave her goodbye before heading out the door.

Two weeks later

9:00 pm finally rolls around. I have on a plain grey t-shirt with faded jeans and black boots. If (y/n) can see me while I'm ugly crying and drunk then this should be fine. I grab my phone before walking to the front room.

Noodle is sitting on the couch and looks up from her book. "Going back Toochi?"

I stop at the door to look at her. "Uh, yeah I am".

"You've been going back every night and Ace said you met someone. When are we going to meet her?" she teases with a smile.

"Oh uhhh I don't know see ya later Noodle!" I say before rushing out the door. It's not like we're dating or anything. I don't even like her I mean yeah she's really nice, comforting, a good listener, really pretty, beautiful, soft....

Okay maybe I like her a little bit.

I brush the thought off as I walk into Magic City. I'm greeted with bopping music with pink and red lights blinding me.

I walk up to the manager and ask for (y/n).

" Yes, follow me she'll be with you in just a moment," she tells me as she leads me to a booth. As we're walking I spot (y/n) with a client. It is painfully obvious that she's flirting. I know it's her job so I'm not bent out of shape about it. Still it stings.

"Here you go, just sit tight" she said before leaving me alone in the red velvet booth.

I sit down and wait for (y/n).

About 10 minutes later she comes in and upon seeing my face she brightens up. She sits on my lap like she did before.

"You will not believe the night I've had". She starts. "People kept touching me even though you're not supposed to. It wasn't anything too bad but it gets annoying not to mention people asking about dates and ugghhh," she groans.

"Sounds like you've had a rough day luv," I reply.

"Tell me about it, so how was your day?"

"Eh we 'ave our tour dates scheduled we're going around the world"

"Ohh sounds fun, oh I guess you'll be gone a while huh?" she said her voice kinda sad at the last part.

"Well we won't be leaving for a while and I have a question"

"oh? What's that?'

"Well just to add to your ever growing list of men that have asked you out, I'd like to add my name to the list and ask if you wanted to go on a date with me?"

#gorillaz #2d gorillaz #2d x autistic transboy reader #2d x reader #2d gorillaz fanfiction #2d fanfic #gorillaz fanfiction #autistic reader #transboy reader #x reader #gorilla x reader

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softerhaze · 3 years

Photo

oh haha, can’t wait to play this pack! *doesn’t play the pack, spends literal hours altering the lighting*

#*rubs hand together* okay #we've got moonglow as a base #with the twinkle toes sunrise #less saturated lighting during the day #slight fog in the morning #bright nights that match the original lighting but with darker shadows #and it uses the new star and moon texture that came with the pack #i thought about brightening up the morning light but i think i like it kinda gloomy #it's soft and sleepy feeling #dl

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primofate · 3 years

Note

im feeling kinda akward since its my first time requesting,i really really really like your writings and im wondering if you could do some angst for albedo, anything you feel like tbh, but if may i be a little selfish i was thinking on something like he hurt you, so you break up with him or maybe he break up with you and regret later, im in love with the genius and your writings so why not lol, hope you are doing well, xoxoxooxox

Thanks for the request anon. <3 Sorry it took so long, but I’m feeling angst today so here goes. Let me know what you think <3

QUEUED POST

Scenario: Breaking up

Characters: gn! reader x Albedo

Warnings: angst, break ups, regrets, did I say angst?

Categories: angst in Part 1, comfort in Part 2 (It was getting too long so split it into two parts)

Read: (Part 2) (Part 3 - Final)

Albedo

Alone.

These days you found yourself alone in your shared home. It had been nearly a year since the two of you decided to live together. Maybe that was a bad idea.

You were smitten. He was such an intelligent man, and truth be told you loved how his mind worked. He was silent and mostly kept to himself at first, but with you, there were subtle touches, fleeting kisses. Oh and his eyes, the way his eyes brightened or the way his lips turned up at the sight of you. The way he held you close at nights, up until the morning.

Gone were those days.

He was hardly home. The intelligent man you had fallen in love with, was also a workaholic. Perhaps you should’ve seen it coming. There were so many signs.

Maybe he changed. Maybe you changed. But the little things weren’t enough anymore. He came home just to sleep and wake up, and he was off again.

“Bedo, have you got some time off on the weekend? We haven’t been up to Starsnatch Cliff in a while,” you had prodded him a few days ago, wondering if the problem would be solved if you made the first move.

“Sorry, Y/N, we’re just about to discover more about the properties of electro crystals... It’ll be useful if we want to sustain higher energy concentrations on...” and just like that he had gone off a tangent explaining the whole thing. You smiled a little, it was still endearing how excited he got discussing those things.

But you couldn’t help but be lonely at how he seemed to love his research more than you.

‘Maybe I just need to be more proactive. That’s it! I’ll go and visit him at the lab today!’ Surprising him was one of the things that you had always wanted to do. But not a lot of things got past Albedo. He was observant like that. You made a quick run to the bakery, getting him some croissants and welcomed yourself into the Favonius Headquarters.

You looked up at the sign on his laboratory door. That sign was always there though, Klee had told you about it, and Sucrose had also talked about it once or twice before, telling you that it wouldn’t be a good idea to go in if the sign was up. But when was it ever down? So, you shrugged, and pushed the door open with a wide smile.

“What are you doing here?!” There’s a wild look in Albedo’s eyes the moment you step in. He didn’t appreciate being disturbed. You tilted your head a little at his reaction, you weren’t expecting that.

“Oh, since you’ve been so busy these days I just thought I’d drop by and give you something to--”

“Y/N, did you not see the sign on the door? No disturbances, even from you,”

“I’ll just be quick, I’m just dropping this off,” you lift the paper bag from the bakery and lay it down on the nearest table. Albedo closes his eyes with a sigh.

“...We’re working on something dangerous right now, I don’t have time to eat. Please take it back,”

Surprisingly, you obey quite quickly, and take the paper bag back into your hands. Annoyance start to pulse in your veins. “Anything else you want me to do? Maybe disappear so I don’t bother you or your research so much?”

Sucrose had been standing there the whole time, and you can see the slight wince on her face at your cold statement... But Albedo had returned it ten fold, snapping an answer back. “Yes, Y/N, that would be excellent, don’t get in the way. Stop being irritating at the wrong moment,”

You didn’t expect how much it would sting. Your shoulders slump downwards at the realization that this... had gone too far. You couldn’t take it anymore. Sucrose opens her mouth, but doesn’t know what to say looking back and forth between you and Albedo.

The Kreideprinz had continued with his task as if nothing had happened at all, but he knew what he said. He didn’t want any interferences nor accidents happening in the lab and that was the only thing he cared about at the moment.

Your foot moves to step back, but your eyes are glued to Albedo. You can only see his back. His hair tied up neatly, the shoulders that you loved to wrap your arms around and his hands that were always gentle. You took a good look, drinking the whole scene in like you hadn’t had a drop of water in days.

This was the last time you would lay eyes on him and it broke you into so many pieces. You turned away without another word, Sucrose staring at the door, before she decided that she needed to follow you. “I-I’ll be back, Master Albedo,” she rarely ever abandoned an experiment, but she knew that you needed a friend right now.

Ironic, because it should have been Albedo running after you, but instead the green-haired girl caught up to you just as you reached the fountain in the middle of Mondstadt. “Y/N!” she jogs, and stops when you do as you hear your name.

Tears prickled your cheeks, but they were more of frustration than sadness. You stand there for a moment, drying your tears and turning around towards Sucrose, gaze on the pavement. “Y/N...” Sucrose approaches carefully, hand resting on your shoulder.

“...I don’t know anything other than Albedo, Sucrose,” you start, a curtain of memories flashing through your mind. “...Without him, there isn’t much reason for me to stay in Mondstadt,” Sucrose shakes her head rather hastily. “H-He’s just... a little occupied right now, Y/N, I’m sure he doesn’t mean what he said,” You close your eyes, the scene repeating in your head.

“Anything else you want me to do? Maybe disappear so I don’t bother you or your research so much?”

“Yes, Y/N, that would be excellent, don’t get in the way. Stop being irritating at the wrong moment,”

A hard lump forms on your throat at how hard you try not to sob. How hard you try to keep yourself together and Sucrose sees it from the way your lips tremble. “Sucrose, please watch over him,” and that is also the last that Sucrose sees of you.

That night, Albedo arrives home exhausted, just as he always does. But now that he was home, he could at least expect a warm meal and a warm hug. A soft smile tugs on his lips at the thought.

When he turned the lights on, he was met with a strange stillness instead. His hand stays on the switch as his eyes scan the living room. It was...quiet. There were no plates on the table, and there were no sounds from the kitchen.

Deep in the pits of his stomach there’s an anxiety that starts bubbling up. He brushes it off, opting instead to check the kitchen. “Y/N?”

Empty.

His footsteps hasten as he opens the bedroom door, expecting you to be curled up there, asleep.

Empty.

Albedo takes in a shaky breath. You were probably just out in town, doing some late night shopping. Yeah, that’s it, perhaps you just didn’t have enough ingredients for dinner today and--his eyes land on the bedside table.

The photo frame is gone. The photo of the two of you standing side by side together with comfortable smiles on your faces, his hand on your waist, and the house on the background.

He throws open the closet doors. Your clothes are gone. Your shoes are gone. Even your scent seemed to have disappeared. The anxiety that was once a small bubble in his stomach had started to claw it’s way out, wrenching his heart in places that he didn’t know could hurt. The tears pooling in his eyes were so foreign that he didn’t even know what was happening until he hears himself gasp back a sob.

You’re gone.

Suddenly it was so hard to breathe, but he pulls himself up and out the door. There’s no way. Where would you go? Perhaps you were just around Mondstadt, trying to get a breath of fresh air to calm your nerves. He searches everywhere. The church, the tavern, the Good Hunter and even atop the rooftop of the Favonius Headquarters. There was a decent view of the city there, and his eyes roam the streets, just to get a glimpse of you.

“...Please...” There’s another lump in his throat, his eyes dart around looking for any small sign of you.

“Albedo? Tired?” you ask as he returns home one day. He merely lets out a small “Mm,” and pulls a chair out from the dining table to sit on. You walk into the kitchen to fetch him a cup of tea, and he snatches your hand to press a soft kiss on the back of it. “Thank you, love,”

“...Please!” his grip on the stone walls of the rooftop tighten. His vision blurs.

“Al! Don’t do that!” you try to swat his hand away from the pot, a short laugh coming off of your lips at how mischievous he could be sometimes, trying to dip his finger into the sauce. He has a grin on his face as he successfully tastes the sauce off his finger, making a sound of approval as he draws you in for a light kiss on your forehead, “It’s good, as always,”

His legs buckle, and he finds himself on his knees, hands fisted upon the cold stone wall. “At least tell me where you've gone! I can’t--” he doesn’t know when the last time he cried was, but whenever it was, he doesn’t remember it to be this bad. The pain was unlike any injury he had, it grasped so tightly at his heart.

“Anything else you want me to do? Maybe disappear so I don’t bother you or your research so much?”

“Yes, Y/N, that would be excellent, don’t get in the way. Stop being irritating at the wrong moment,”

He furiously shakes his head because he knows that it was his fault. “I didn’t mean it, please give them back,” as if there was someone else who took you away. As if there was a God listening to him right now.

He realizes that the worst of it was not that you had left, but that you had left no traces of you behind. No photo. Not a piece of clothing. Not a trace of your existence.

Nothing for him to hold on to.

That night, he dragged himself back home. Face flushed and hot from the tears he had shed and the ones he was attempting to hold back.

That night, he painfully got into bed.

Alone.

Taglist: @larkspyrr @rim0na @sweeti-pie @l3mon-mxshroom @hai-q-haikyuu @tkshoki @kyquu @KimbapSana @fanfictionenthusiast

Crossed out means I couldn’t tag you! Sorry!

Masterlist

https://primofate.tumblr.com/post/653296890583154688/masterlist-for-mobile-version-main-links

Taglist (Want to be notified when something new comes out? Sign up!):

https://forms.gle/VZmJXQssHcv7YzQc6

If you’d like to be extra sweet and donate, here’s my kofi link:

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#albedo #albedo x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin reader angst #genshin x reader angst #albedo x reader angst #genshin fics #genshin short fics #genshin headcanons #albedo angst

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sie-rui · 3 years

Note

Can I get emo mikey having a s/o that like adores touching him- like touch is kinda their love language. And the reader suddenly starts touching his face and hair for the first time and how would he react? <3

❀ AFTERNOON NAPS | TOKYO REVENGERS 🤍 sano manjiro (manila) 💿 gender neutral, second pov (you/your), comfort, established relationship, au - canon divergence, timeline: manila (2018), imagine 📅 july 17, 2021 🔗 masterlist

sano manjiro hasn't felt this warm, this alive, in so long. all it took was you running your fingers through his hair.

He didn’t expect this relationship to last long.

How could it be when he’s literally a wanted criminal, slowly getting rid of his gang’s main members? He had thought that you were one of his flings, perhaps just one night or one week, finding himself in bed with you. But then it advanced into lingering around after the sex, having dinner together, knowing more about each other.

After that it gradually changed even more. Those lust-filled kisses gradually grew into slow loving ones, the harsh grips turning gentler and light so as to not hurt each other.

And before Mikey knew it, he was holding onto you, unwilling to let go. It just boosted his giddiness even more when you took his hand without complaint, smiling at him and almost blinding him with just that one action.

When Manjiro knew that fuck he just fell in love and there’s no going back since he’s already waist deep, he started noticing the littlest things about you and all of them just makes him fall even farther.

The way you smile, the way you gaze at things you like, the small curious tilt of your head and a raise of a brow, the scrunching of your nose at something distasteful, the touches that stay a second longer, and just the way you brighten up when he takes your hand.

Mikey just finds it absolutely heart melting when the smallest touches make you sigh and cuddle up to him, eyes twinkling and a contented smile on your lips.

He felt as if yup, he could live with this until the day he dies.

Until he lays down next to you one day and your hand automatically rests on his hair, caressing his head lightly and a little hesitantly. When Mikey looked up, you were staring at him, biting on your lip and searching for a sign if you should stop or if you could carry on.

Manjiro remembers a tall blond friend who always did his hair every morning because he was too lazy to do it himself. He remembers a lilac-haired taking his measures for the uniform, barely at the age of twelve. He remembers his younger sister, drying his hair with a towel because he didn’t do it himself, scolding him playfully.

He closes his eyes, nestling a little closer to you; trying to shake away the memories and focus on the present at your fingers massaging his head carefully. He felt warm. Mikey can’t remember when was the last time he ever felt this warm, with just your hand he was floating, in bliss at your affectionate touches. His insides were fuzzy and he was heating up, heart beating so loud but at a slow steady pace.

He opens his eyes just a tiny bit, peering underneath his half-lidded lids to see you smiling so softly, taking your time to run through the tangled locks of his black hair. Adept fingers taking away the headaches that attacked him earlier that morning.

Manjiro tips his head towards your hand when he thinks that you’re going to stop. A small breathless giggle left your lips and it felt as if he ran a marathon, losing air in his lungs with just your laugh.

He rests an arm around your waist letting you continue to run your hand through his strands. He once more peeks through his lids, staring at the small smile that graces your lips and how your eyes fluttered closed, humming silently.

For a moment, he forgot about his sins, the crimes he committed, the lives he took as if he was playing shinigami. He forgot about the people he lost and the version of himself long gone. All that was in him was you.

The orange sunlight painted your face golden and you looked ethereal on that very moment as some old song plays from the room next door, muffled but perfect.

And he thinks again, as he slowly drifts to sleep, I can definitely live with this.

A press of your lips to his forehead was the last thing he remembered.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers mikey #mikey x reader #mikey #sano manjiro #sano manjirou #manjiro sano #sano manjiro imagines #sano manjiro x reader #manjirou sano x reader #tokyo revengers sano manjiro #manjiro x reader #manjiro

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seijorhi · 3 years

Text

Inexorable ♕

My birthday present for my beloved wife @iwaasfairy and my contribution to her birthday bash collab you can find here. I love you, you’re incredible and I hope you like this i even wrote smut for you smh

Iwaizumi Hajime x female reader

tw: dub-con, stalking, unhealthy relationships, very questionable decision making, smut, nsfw, um... implied murder?

He’s sitting on the steps outside your apartment when you get home from work, a lit cigarette dangling between long fingers. He brings it to his lips, the bright cherry red tip glowing as he takes a nice, slow drag and you scurry on past.

Not a word passes between the two of you, but olive eyes follow you up the stairs regardless, just like always. His name is Iwaizumi – Iwa – but you only know that because you’ve heard his friends yelling it down the hallway. In the three months since you’ve moved in, you haven’t so much as introduced yourself to the guy, but like most strangers crammed into the same shitty place there’s some kind of a routine between the two of you.

Why he religiously chooses this time of night to take his smoke break is beyond you, but like clockwork you’ll arrive home, having walked back from the bus stop and Iwaizumi’ll be there waiting for you, cigarette in hand.

Well, not waiting, just… there. Black leather jacket with a hoodie underneath, there’s a cut above his eyebrow tonight that he hasn’t bothered to clean, a purpling bruise colouring his jaw. Whatever dealings Iwaizumi’s tangled up in, you don’t like to think about too much, but you know it can’t be anything good. His friends dress like him, all have the same ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibe. You’ve seen their scrapes and bruises too – the weapons that stick out from the waistband of their pants – though you’re always quick to avert your eyes when they catch you staring.

You’ve heard them snickering about it when you hastily dart past, all but slamming your front door shut.

And it’s not that you’re scared of him. There are people who play at being dangerous, and ones who are. Iwaizumi doesn’t strike you as somebody who enjoys playing, and while you don’t doubt for a second that he is dangerous, he isn’t to you. He wouldn’t go out of his way to hurt or scare you – you’re not even a blip on his radar – but what Iwaizumi is, at least as far as you’re concerned, the reason your step quickens and you can’t bear to meet his eyes, is intimidating.

Tall and broad shouldered, with those piercing green eyes. You’ve only seen him smile once, though it was more a quirking of his lips than anything else – usually he just stares, his expression halfway between impassive boredom and a scowl.

No, Iwaizumi doesn’t scare you nearly as much as the bouquet of flowers you find sitting on your doorstep, a handwritten note tucked in between the roses.

—

The calls come next. You block one number and he rings from another, followed by endless texts. Cute little messages you suppose are meant to brighten up your day.

Hi baby, love the skirt you’re wearing today. You know blue’s my favourite on you, always look so damn pretty. It’s like you’re trying to drive me crazy haha

Morning babe, I was thinking about you last night. You remember that trip we always said we were gonna take in the summer down to the lake? I can’t wait to bring you there.

Why won’t you answer my calls? I just wanna talk to you, hear your voice again. Let me make things right. I love you.

Don’t you miss me? I miss you. So, so much… You look beautiful today, by the way.

Baby, I love you, but you really shouldn’t be staying out so late with your coworkers for drinks. I just want you to be safe.

They’re not all soft and sweet though. Sometimes he just sends you pictures, and those creep you out most of all.

You change your number, and it doesn’t make a difference.

—

It’s hard for you to try and convince yourself that you’re imagining the prickling sensation on the back of your neck as you go about your day. You know he’s watching you – the messages and the voicemails just drive that home, but what else are you supposed to do?

You can’t just pack up and run again, and what good is a restraining order when you have no proof he’s violating it – and by the time you do, it probably won’t help you.

Kazuma’s always had patience, but only up to a point.

The final nail comes the day you arrive home to find one of Iwa’s friends heading out from his apartment – the tallest, with the curly dark hair. Barely spares you a glance until he seems to think better of it.

“Didn’t realise you had a boyfriend, sweetheart.”

He says it so casually, but the words make you falter, a sinking feeling in your stomach. “What do you mean?”

And for a moment, he looks half surprised that you’ve bothered to reply – so far you’ve done nothing but pretend to ignore him and Iwa and every last one of their friends. But the mirth slips from his expression quickly enough once he gets a good look at yours, “Blonde guy with a shitty dye job, tall-ish. Saw him leaving your apartment an hour ago.”

But to walk out of your apartment, he had to have first gotten into it.

“Guessing he wasn’t your boyfriend then,” he says, eyeing you with an odd look. But you don’t respond and after a short pause, he simply shrugs and continues on his way.

You couldn’t care less.

Kazuma was in your apartment.

Leaving flowers at your doorstep is one thing, but now he has a key.

And it feels like there’s somebody else moving your body as you stumble towards your apartment, your hand shaking so badly that you fumble and drop your own keys twice before you finally manage to slide them home and push your way inside.

It’s waiting for you inside your bedroom, sitting atop your pillow; a pretty blue box wrapped with white ribbon.

Your phone flashes to life a minute later; an incoming message from an unknown number.

Did you like your present, baby?? I hope you don’t mind, I kinda borrowed a little something too…

With your heart in your throat you watch those three bouncing dots as the image comes through.

A pair of red lace panties – yours – scrunched up in his fist, wrapped around his–

Your stomach heaves, and you barely make it to the bathroom in time before you’re hurling your guts up.

—

You’ve always had an impulsive side, and more often than not it’s landed you into trouble.

So you force yourself to calm down and think before you do anything rash. You head to the police station the very next morning to file a report, fresh off a sleepless night. The officer seems sympathetic, but you know before she even opens her mouth that there’s nothing they can do.

There’s no proof of a crime committed; nothing was taken (nothing you can prove, at any rate) and because your door wasn’t tampered with and the windows weren’t smashed, there’s no evidence of a break in. She suggests changing your locks and going to stay with some friends or family for a few days and you don’t know whether you want to laugh or burst into tears.

And instead of going back to work, you call in sick.

Iwaizumi isn’t sitting on the front steps when you get back home, and why would he be? You’re not supposed to be home for another few hours – so instead you head to his apartment door and mustering every last ounce of courage you possess, you raise your fist and knock.

Silence greets you.

You wait for a moment, a heartbeat, not daring to breathe, but there’s no answer. Which, really, shouldn’t be that surprising considering it’s mid-morning on a Tuesday, but you can’t help the crushing sense of disappointment that washes over you. The thought of trudging back to your apartment to sit and stew alone for the next few hours while you wait for him to come back makes your skin crawl. You can’t just sit still and twiddle your thumbs, not when–

Abruptly, the door in front of you swings open, and you find yourself face to face with a glaring Iwaizumi. His expression falters, momentary surprise flickering across his eyes at the sight of you standing in his doorway.

This time you don’t avert your eyes. Your heart’s pounding, your hands clammy and trembling by your side, but this is the only choice you have left. And so as a single eyebrow cocks and Iwa falls into a lean against the doorframe – the only invitation you’re gonna get – you steel your nerves, take a deep breath, and speak.

“I-I need a gun.”

To his credit, Iwaizumi doesn’t snort. “You planning on shooting somebody, princess?”

They’re the first words he’s ever spoken to you, and they make your cheeks burn, your stomach twisting into a knot. It’s not a dismissal, but there’s a tinge of amusement colouring his tone and you can’t help but wilt a little under the weight of his gaze.

Better sense would tell you to turn around, walk back to your apartment and curse your own idiocy for entertaining this stupid idea to begin with But Iwaizumi’s staring at you like he’s expecting an answer and all you can think about is the fear that gripped your heart last night, how you couldn’t bear to turn the light off, half terrified that at any moment Kazuma would come back – and this time he wouldn’t be satisfied with just some panties.

You can’t live like this, and you can’t just pack up your life and wait for the same thing to happen in the next place, and the one after that. Kazuma won’t stop, you know that.

“I…” you chew on your bottom lip, dropping your gaze so that you’re staring at his chest instead of those piercing green eyes. “I don’t, I-I’m not–”

“A killer?” he interjects, and you almost flinch at his bluntness“Yeah, no shit.”

Taking another breath in through your nose, you force yourself to meet his gaze, even as your nails bite into the palm of your hand and your heart skips a beat. “I just want…” but you can’t even bear to say the words aloud, not without your voice shaking like a leaf. “It’s for protection. I don’t know who else to go to. Please,” you beg.

Iwa exhales heavily, a crinkle appearing between his brows as he frowns, “This got anything to do with the blonde asshole that’s been sniffing ‘round your place?”

Your bewilderment must show, because he snorts, finally stepping back to let you inside. “Mattsun told me,” he says, answering your unspoken question.

The unmistakably hard edge to his words takes you a little by surprise, but you nod anyway, gingerly taking a seat on the couch when he jerks his chin at it. “Oh, uh, yeah. He’s my ex, kinda. We… didn’t end well.”

It’s the understatement of the century, but you somehow doubt a man like Iwaizumi gives two shits about your past relationship with a stalker. Your fingers play with the hem of your skirt as the imposing man settles down beside you. “So does this mean you’ll get me a gun?” you ask. “I can pay you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I have some money–”

Iwa scoffs, cutting you off. “If you think I’m letting you anywhere near a loaded gun, pretty girl, you’re dumber than I gave you credit for.”

You reel back as if he’s slapped you. But Iwaizumi’s staring at you with that steely expression and blood rushes to your cheeks. Why are you surprised? Did you actually think he was going to help you – a veritable stranger – just because you have some sob story? Why even bother letting you in if he was just gonna make you feel like an idiot? And for a moment you forget the gnawing terror that’s kept you up all night, letting yourself become awash with indignation. You have no control over the hurt noise that leaves your throat, but the ‘Fuck you’ that follows; that one’s intentional.

You don’t have time to regret the insult as you jump to your feet; his hand shoots out to wrap around your wrist, jerking you to a halt the moment you try it.

“I didn’t say you could go,” he tells you, and you can’t fight the shiver that rolls down your spine at the unmistakably commanding tone. “Sit.”

Wordlessly, you comply.

“Look at me.”

Again, there’s that harsh undercurrent in his voice that tells you he’s not asking, and you lift your gaze with a tense swallow. Iwa still hasn’t released your wrist, the warmth of his calloused palm searing against your skin.

He doesn’t speak for a moment, olive eyes studying your face intently as you force yourself to sit still under the appraisal. “I said that I wasn’t going to give you a gun, not that I wasn’t going to help.”

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion, “What–”

“I’ll take care of it,” he snaps, cutting you off once again. And as you inhale sharply, you realise that it’s not anger you see burning in those pretty eyes, but sheer, unrelenting fury, an icy rage that you don’t understand, that terrifies you as much as it enthrals.

Because you feel like it’s on purpose. Like he’s finally letting you get a glimpse of what silently seethes beneath that impassive mask of his. Are you scared now, sweetheart?

“H-how much?” you ask breathlessly, eyes wide and heart pounding.

“I don’t want your money,” he says quietly, his voice low and husky. And just in case there was any confusion as to what he does want, his other hand comes up to your face, a broad thumb tracing along your bottom lip as he cups your cheek.

Iwaizumi leans in slowly, as if he’s giving you time to shove him away and tell him that you’re not that kind of girl. Part of you – the part that’s terrified, frozen stiff and regretting the very moment you decided to step into his apartment and cross that line – wants to. Even now, as those hooded olive eyes drink you in, his warm breath ghosting across your skin leaving goosebumps in its wake, you’re afraid that it’s too late for that. You’ve opened a door that should never have been opened and there’s been a fundamental shift between you and him. There’s no going back for either one of you.

And the other part of you revels in it.

“Don’t kill him,” you murmur the second before his lips meet yours. “Not unless you have to.” You don’t even know if he heard you, and as Iwa deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours you find that you don’t care. You lose yourself to Iwaizumi as he leans closer, gently pushing you to lie back on the couch.

He isn’t satisfied with just your lips for long, planting hot, open mouthed kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat, sucking on the sensitive flesh. His teeth nip at your collarbone as he busies himself unbuttoning your shirt, but your gasp sounds more like a needy whine than a plea for him to stop.

He laughs a little at that, his chest rumbling against your stomach, but he makes no moves to slow down. Instead he turns his attention to your bra, his hands far less gentle with the delicate lace than he was with your shirt, and then his mouth is on your tits, licking, sucking, biting. Tomorrow, your skin will be littered with pretty red and purple marks, and judging from the single minded focus glinting in his eyes as he stares up at you, that’s exactly his intention. Iwa drags the flat of his tongue along the swell of your breast, circling it around your nipple before he sucks it into the wet warmth of his mouth, and the whimpering moan you give him in response is a thing of beauty.

“Good girl,” he croons. “Such pretty, perfect tits.”

Your back arches when he cups the other in his hand, and you cry out when he roughly tugs the sensitive bud. He waits until the sting fades and you relax, sagging back against the cushions with relief before he does it again, harder this time. The sharp, searing pain ripples through you, your breath seizing in your chest as you try in vain to writhe away from his touch, but it’s followed by a flood of pleasure so strong it almost makes you dizzy. The fleeting kiss Iwa bestows on the supple flesh a moment later could almost be taken as an apology – if not from the satisfied smirk curling at his lips. He has no desire to be gentle with you, not today or any other day. That’s not who he is.

Large hands ease down your side, reaching for the hem of your skirt. Iwa doesn’t bother trying to pull it off of you, merely flips it up, exposing your soft thighs and the delicate panties lying underneath.

In an attempt to be helpful, you lift your hips to allow him to drag the lacy scrap of fabric down your legs and discard it, but Iwaizumi seems perfectly content with leaving them where they are. Even so, it takes you by surprise when his mouth descends on your cunt, the wet, pink muscle laving along the seat of your panties. You shiver in response, one hand instinctively reaching out to tangle in those spiky brunette locks, but if you’re about to tell him to stop teasing, the words are robbed from you when Iwa pushes the fabric aside and buries his face in the heat of your pussy.

His nose nudges at your clit and you jerk at the first lap at your folds, already shamefully wet for him. There’s no rhythm or rhyme to the way he eats you out, letting a long, thick finger slide into your cunt while he suckles and licks at your clit, but you can’t deny that it’s working. Your thighs tremble and quake beneath his hands, every second of his attention dragging you closer to unravelling entirely. And you’re awash with pleas, little whimpers and moans as he chuckles, the low vibrations making your fingers tighten in his hair as another burst of pleasure flutters through you. Your hips rise and fall against his face, desperate for more when he finally slides his tongue inside of your heat, eager to taste your cunt properly. You want more, you’re desperate and aching for it; but Iwaizumi’s grip tighten bruisingly against your thigh in warning.

You’re at his mercy, and he’s in absolutely no hurry.

The first time you cum, it takes you by surprise. It feels like an endless build-up, Iwa’s tongue lapping at your pussy like it’s heaven sent, his mouth working diligently to drive you insane. Every touch feels unbearably good, from the long, slow strokes to the way he drags the tip of his tongue along your clit. Your toes are curling, your tits heaving with the desperate breaths you choke down, and all of a sudden his mouth latches onto your clitoris and he sucks hard at the swollen nub. You almost black out right there and then, stars bursting behind closed lids as pleasure wreaks havoc over your body. But as good as that feels, it’s not until you open your eyes and catch sight of the hunger blazing in Iwaizumi’s eyes that you tip over the edge, cumming into his waiting mouth with an earth shattering moan.

At some point he must have let you go to rid himself of his own clothes, and your panties, but you’re boneless, basking in the afterglow as he shifts you once more, lifting one of your thighs up to hook your leg over his shoulder as he settles back onto the couch.

You just watch through hazy eyes as Iwaizumi gives his thick cock, already hard and flushed an angry red, a few cursory pumps. And his eyes are fixed on yours as he leans down, guiding the tip to your sopping cunt.

“Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of this, princess,” he grunts out.

Warning bells sound in your head once more, your gut clenching uneasily, but any protests you might have voiced fall by the wayside as he slowly presses into you. It’s the girth, more than anything else, that takes you by surprise. It hurts, stretching out your poor, oversensitive cunt as his cock fills you up, inch by agonising inch.

Iwa hisses from between clenched teeth and your eyes squeeze shut, trying to breathe through the pain. It won’t last long, you know that, and until it does you just have to grin and bear it.

You can feel it twitching inside of you, every ridge and vein, the way your slick walls hug his cock. His thumb strokes along your hip, soothing you as your face screws up and another whimper slips out. You think you hear him say something, praise maybe, or encouragement, but all you can focus on is the way his cock throbs inside your pussy when he finally bottoms out and stills.

And for a moment, he doesn’t move. A small kindness, letting you become adjusted to his size before he fucks you the way he’s dying to.

“Look at me,” he says, and while his tone isn’t as sharp this time, it’s no less of an order.

Your eyes flutter open as Iwaizumi turns his head just a fraction without breaking eye contact, pressing a soft kiss against your calf. His eyes are glazed with feverish lust, pupils blown wide, almost swallowing up that thin ring of olive green entirely, and you wonder whether you should feel afraid right now.

You don’t have the words to describe it, the distant unease that seeps through you as you stare into the eyes of a man who’s clearly not in control anymore. If you screamed right now, tried to fight back or stop him, would it make a difference?

Do you actually want to?

“You’re mine,” he growls out, drawing his hips back and slamming them forward ruthlessly as you choke on a scream.

He’s relentless, hissing out curses as he fucks you like a rag doll, filling your wet, tight little cunt again and again and again. It’s all you can do to fist at the edge of the cushion, one hand wrapping around his back, your nails raking down his skin, drawing blood in their wake.

And Iwa doesn’t care, tossing his head back as he pounds his cock into your needy cunt, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. “Iwa,” you plead between gasping breaths, clinging to his broad frame. You don’t even know what you’re begging for, not as he grabs you by the hips and lifts you up, hauling you closer so he can fuck you deeper. And you can feel his cockhead rutting against your cervix with every vicious thrust, the painful stretch of your cunt as you’re forced to take his fat cock. It hurts, it does, but holy fuck you can’t focus on that when his fingers slip between your legs and he starts to rub at your puffy, oversensitive clit.

You’re whining, mewling, hips shifting as you rock against him, desperate for more friction. “Please, Iwa,” you moan.

The sound of it, the lewd slaps of skin against skin, the wet squelching as he drives his cock home again with an unforgiving pace would be enough to make you burn with embarrassment, but you don’t care because you’re quickly losing yourself to mindless pleasure. Every stroke fills you completely, it’s hot and thick and the drag of his cock against your plush walls, the way it kisses that sweet perfect spot with every thrust is driving you to insanity.

“Fuck!” you cry, clenching tightly around his length as you hurtle over the edge for a second time. You’re gushing, convulsing, back arched up off the couch, lips parted and–

Iwaizumi stops with a growl and you barely have time to process it before he’s flipping you onto your front, yanking your ass up into the air and hammering his cock back into your swollen, abused little pussy. It’s a bruising pace he sets as he chases after his own end, your name falling from his lips in harsh, breathless grunts.

It doesn’t take long for his thrusts to become sloppy, your cunt sucking him in and pulsing around his cock. And you don’t have the mental capacity to beg him to pull out, not as his muscular chest collapses against your back, his arms wrapping around your waist and he pumps you full of his seed.

Neither one of you move straight away, both fighting to catch your breath and calm down in the afterglow of your orgasms. Your eyes flutter shut as he presses soft, sweet kisses to the back of your neck, your shoulders, anywhere he can reach. It’s an intimacy that doesn’t belong here, but you find yourself arching into it, a small, tired smile curling at your lips as Iwaizumi lavishes you with affection.

And you can only whine softly when he finally pulls his cock out and stands, lifting your boneless form up into his arms, chuckling quietly when you bury your head into his chest. Your head’s empty, your thoughts a jumbled mess as he carries you into his bedroom, depositing you carefully onto the bed.

Iwaizumi leaves you there like that, and when he returns a few minutes later he’s dressed again. He doesn’t smile, but there’s something oddly content about his expression as he stops by the doorway and takes in the sight of you; naked and thoroughly fucked out, curled up amongst his covers.

“Iwa?” you ask sleepily, stretching your aching body to make yourself more comfortable as you nestle further into the soft mattress.

He doesn’t answer you as he strides in, but you watch through half lidded eyes as his expression hardens. Stopping by the bedside, Iwaizumi reaches for you. You think he’s going to cup your cheek again, maybe run his fingers through your hair, but instead his hand slides between your thighs, gathering up some of the cum that’s seeped from your pussy with his fingers and slowly pushing it back inside of you, humming when you whine and shift under him.

“I’m leaving for a bit,” he tells you, your gut clenching as you remember why you’re in this position in the first place. “You don’t leave this apartment until I get back. You don’t answer the door, you don’t tell anyone you’re here, you don’t leave this bed unless you have a goddamn good reason. Understand?”

Weakly, you nod.

“Such a good girl for me,” he breathes, and this time when he leans over he does kiss you, sweeping your hair back from your face before his warm lips meet your cheek. He lingers there for a beat longer than necessary before pulling away with a sigh.

And as the door swings shut, the sound of the lock clicking into place behind him, you begin to question whether you’ve made a mistake. You don’t doubt for a second that Iwa will follow through with his promise. Whether it’s tonight or tomorrow or a week from now, he’ll find Kazuma; him and his friends, and they’ll make sure he stays away. And until they do, you won’t leave this apartment.

There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that despite your pleas, Iwaizumi’ll kill him.

Not because that’s the only way for this to end, though you realise that that’s always been a possibility, but because of what you glimpsed in his eyes today. Stupidly, you’d thought you had Iwa pegged. But there’s something that lurks beneath that facade, something more dangerous than you could’ve possibly imagined and the moment you opened the door to Iwaizumi it sunk its teeth into you and now you’re not sure if it’ll ever let you go.

And as you lie back in Iwaizumi’s bed, covered in the marks he left behind you wonder whether you’ve merely traded one monster for another. Perhaps it was inevitable. Inexorable.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere iwaizumi #yandere iwaizumi x reader #yandere iwaizumi hajime #yandere iwaizumi hajime x reader #tw: dubcon #tw: stalking #i've said it like 48 times today #but ily fairy #you deserve the world #if you haven't gone to wish her a happy bday #GO NOW

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hornime · 3 years

Text

home workout | bokuto koutarou x gn!reader

“i’d let you do- do anything. anything you wan’ to me. i’m yours. all- all,” his voice raised a few octaves as the inside of your thighs brushed past his cockhead, “yours. all yours.”

warnings: 18+, sub!bokuto, jealous!reader (i mean who wouldn’t be when bokuto, your goddamn boyfriend, is perceived by other people the fuck), also lowkey possessive!reader, lotsa licking and sucking, nipple play, some praise (from reader) and some begging, brief mention of dacryphilia, kinda soft at the end

w/c: 1.5k sheesh

a/n: bokuto brainrot has me in literal tears. him being completely clueless to people flirting w him cus he doesn’t recognize romance from anyone but you has me so soft. i luv this man w my whole heart !!!!! ALSO THANKS FOR ALL THE LOVE ON THE BAKUGO FIC I JUST ABOUT SHIT MY PANTS WOOWWOWO

you weren’t an idiot. you knew that your boyfriend was attractive in literally every aspect of the word. he was sweet, patient, and kind, and what he lacked in academic smarts was made up tenfold in his emotional maturity and ability to read people. big and beefy, bokuto was all yours and all you wanted to stay trapped within his arms forever. unfortunately, to maintain the figure you adored so much and stay in shape for the volleyball season, he had to leave the four walls of your shared bedroom far more than you liked, having a daily obligation to spend a few hours at the gym.

once again, you weren’t an idiot. the few times that your work schedule and his training schedule aligned, you’d been able to work out together. and despite your knowledge of just how good-looking bokuto was and the fact that other people could perceive him (much to your chagrin) you were shocked at just how much people shamelessly flirted with him.

cute girls with matching leggings and sports bras practically clung to his biceps, gushing about how strong he was and how he could probably pick them up with just one hand. their incessant giggling, mesmerizing hair twirling, and teasing touches pissed you off to no end, and you’d tug your boyfriend away before their breasts got too close to him for your liking.

something else you noticed was that, no matter how blatantly obvious the girls seemed to be, the guys were somehow worse, flirting through terms you couldn’t even understand. they compared deadlift weights, bicep curls, hip thrusts; you gritted your teeth thinking about whether they’d ever compared cock sizes in the locker room—you wouldn’t put it past those thirsty gym rats. sneaky bastards.

and bokuto, of course, was oblivious to it all. how could you blame him—he was so used to being adored! you knew that, to him, all of their praises paled in comparison to yours, but you couldn’t help but feel jealous. he was all yours—should be all yours—and you hated sharing him with the world.

you woke up saturday morning with a ringing in your ears, hand smacking the nightstand trying to turn off that god-awful alarm noise, bleary eyes barely able to focus on the text notification from your boyfriend.

[5:33 AM] kou: gm babe!!!! i didnt wanna wake u up cus u looked so peaceful! im heading to the gym rn. text me when ur up! love uu

[5:34 AM] kou: should be home around 9!! gym bud wants to show me something so i might be a little late for breakfast.

just to reiterate, you weren’t an idiot. for all the annoying flirting you noticed when you were with bokuto, there was no doubt in your mind that there must be a lot more when he was at the gym alone, which, unluckily for you, was most of the time since he was a freakin’ pro athlete and all.

you couldn’t prevent the pool of envy from swirling in your gut. gym bud? are you serious? who could that be? the girl with the arm tat or the dude with the dreads? no, maybe its that yoga instructor with the ass—

you shook your head, clearing your brain. you’d be here for hours if you went through everyone at that stupid gym that had ever shown interest in bokuto. the clock read 9:53 AM and the green flame in your body only burned brighter. just as you were about to call him and ask where he was, the front door slammed open.

“babe! i’m home!”

you silently put your phone down, teeth still clenching in jealousy. for some reason, hearing his voice only exacerbated the tension in your shoulders. you needed him. now.

“babe?” his voice creeped closer as he tread through the hallway towards the room. “you up?”

you peeked your head out of the doorframe, cheery voice masking your devilish intentions, “kou!"

his eyes brightened as he made eye contact with you and flashed his trademark smile. “hey! what’s u-” he took in the mischievous glint in your eyes “-p?”

you grabbed his burly forearm, yanking him behind you and walking towards him, forcing him to stumble and fall back on the bed. “wait! i’m all gross and sweaty,” he said, “gym showers were broke-”

“i don’t care. take off your shirt.”

“wow, someone’s eager. missed me that much?”

“watch it,” you glared. “i’m not in the mood, kou.”

he gulped at the dominance radiating from your voice, scrambling to take off the t-shirt that stretched between his pecs perfectly. with the fabric off and throw haphazardly to the side, he looked to you expectantly, the epitome of innocence.

your eyes wandered over his sculpted chest, the remnants of a soft sheen of sweat from his workout making it shine in the sunlight pouring through the blinds. your heart stuttered in your chest—he looked like an angel. coupled with the way with his bottom lip was tucked under his front teeth and the wide, anticipating look in his eyes, fuck. you almost smiled how blessed you felt in that moment, to see him in such a raw, alluring position, before a jarring thought caused your lips to twitch back into a frown.

everyone else can see him, too.

your eyes hardened. maybe they can see him all big and strong, you thought, but they’ll never get to see him like this: submissive.

and so fucking sensitive.

within an instant, your lips were latched on the soft spot above his collarbone, causing him to whimper in pleasure. you continued to travel along his throat, slowly working your way to the other side of his neck and crossing back to nibble at his adam’s apple.

you unexpectedly pulled away, drawing a short whine from him, before repositioning yourself so that you were straddling his outstretched legs. slowly, starting from the hem of his shorts, you dragged your tongue between the ridges of his abs, moving up towards his pecs, tasting the saltiness of his sweat and feeling the muscles tense underneath.

“fuck,” he groaned. as your lips puckered around one of his peaked nipples, he uncontrollably jerked his hips up, inadvertently rubbing his sensitive cock between your legs. overwhelmed by the sensation, he moaned. “fuck.”

“you taste good,” you muttered, grazing your teeth over his other nipple. “just wanna taste you all the time. you’d let me, right?”

thoughts muddled by just how good everything felt, he nodded mindlessly. “i’d let you do- do anything. anything you wan’ to me. i’m yours. all- all,” his voice raised a few octaves as the inside of your thighs brushed past his cockhead, “yours. all yours.”

you paused. raising your head from his chest, you made eye contact with him, so intense he almost closed his eyes to shield himself from the blaze burning in your dilated pupils. “why’d you stop,” he begged, “i want more. feels so good and i wan’ mor-”

“say it again,” you demanded. “tell me that you’re mine.”

his eyes, glossed over and prickled with tears precariously close to falling, squeezed tightly as he spoke, unable to control the growing volume of his voice. “’m all yours. always. all yo- yours.” he gasped as you resumed your movements, pinching the sensitive skin around his v-line while fervently leaving sloppy kisses on his chest.

“good boy.”

he keened at your praise. another light touch to his cock combined with the passage of your mouth had him trembling, and his breath hitched as he cried out in warning, tears now flowing freely over his flushed cheeks. “m’ gonna cum, ‘m gonna, gonna cum.”

“yeah?” you whispered, lips brushing against his strained abs. “go ahead then.”

“fuck!” he whined, blabbering as you sat back and watched in awe of the beauty before you, a big strong man like him reduced to nothing more than a moaning mess. “fuck, fuck—you always make me feel so, s-so go-od, fuck i love you.”

with soaked shorts and an exhausted sigh, he dropped his head back onto the plush comforter of the bed. you flattened your palms on his quivering body, reeling from the aftershocks of his orgasm. he panted, running his fingers through your hair before nudging your face to look at him, staring at you with an expression of pure bliss and adoration. he studied you for a bit before declaring with a soft smile, “you’re the best. so fuckin’ happy that i’m yours.”

driven by affection, he sat up and reached his arms around your waist, snuggling his chin over your shoulder and mashing your chests, yours clothed and his naked, together. “kou wait!” you shrieked. “you’re all sweaty again! it’s gross!”

he chuckled. as if you hadn’t been spoiling him by licking it up just a few minutes ago. “you’re right. i‘m probably sweating more now than i was after my workout.”

at that, your ears perked up. “well maybe you should do home workouts more often then,” you teased.

“you’re right,” he repeated with a grin, “maybe i should.” if it meant more mornings like these, he’d forego the gym in a heartbeat.

that night, he canceled his gym membership. after all, he reasoned, it’s offseason anyway.

#i jus wanna lick him clean #sue me #kinky.inky #haikyuu smut #hq smut #haikyuu bokuto #bokuto smut #bokuto x reader #koutarou x reader #bokuto

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nev3rfound · 3 years

Text

blame it on the neighbours : b.b

having recently moved in next door, you and bucky become fast friends. however, there's something looming between the two of you and it comes to light when it's revealed you're in the hospital. (1.7k)

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!

requested: yes! by the very sweet @didsomeonesaybucky warnings: bucky freaking out if that counts? descriptions of hospitals

Ever since you moved in and became Bucky's next-door neighbour, he could tell things were going to be different. In the first instance, he could hear you in the corridor, chatting away happily to your other neighbours, offering baked goods. He watched cautiously through the peephole, still having to yet meet you, he merely observed from afar.

When he finally met you, it wasn't the interaction he quite hoped for.

Standing in front of his door with a tray of cookies in hand, you release a shaky breath having heard from your other neighbours that the occupant in apartment 4F wasn't the friendliest. But you would simply have to judge that for yourself, you told them.

"He's a bit of a strange one, dear." Your neighbour, Clarissa in 2F warned you as she accepted the container of muffins you had made that morning. "Doesn't really leave or go out much, I think I've only ever heard him say morning once in the six months he's been here!" Her words echo in the back of your mind as you lift your hand up, knuckles lightly tapping the door.

With wide eyes, Bucky hesitantly walks toward the door and stares straight through the peephole. His breath halters, watching as you stare down at your feet.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky glides his fingers over the several locks across his door and slides through the small gap in the doorway with an attempted smile gracing his lips.

"Hi," You start, now lifting your eyes up toward this mysterious neighbour who is definitely not what you anticipated. "I, I'm Y/n, I moved in next door a week ago," Motioning to your apartment, Bucky forces his eyes to glance across down the hall before averting them back to you, taking in your features up close as you rub your lips together.

"Yeah, I heard you moving in." Bucky comments, internally cringing at his choice of wording. "I mean, I," His words falter at the sound of you chuckling softly to yourself. "can I start again? Is that alright?" He asks, grateful that you nod. "It's nice to meet you, Y/n. I'm James."

"Well, it's lovely to know my other neighbour, James. I, these are for you." Thrusting the tray forward, Bucky pushes his door open further with his foot to accept the tray, forgetting he didn't have his glove on.

Your eyes wander down to see his left arm is entirely metal. "Thanks." He mutters, feeling your eyes burning into his arm.

"I'm sorry," You quickly say, looking up at his face. "it's rude to stare, my Mom would scold me if she were here right now."

Bucky shakes his head, moving his leg to catch the back of the door. "Don't worry 'bout it." He brushes it off, but he notices your eyes wandering around the bland corridor and your lips parting.

"You don't happen to know any good places for dinner 'round here?" You move the conversation on, causing Bucky to raise a brow in response. "I'm kinda new to the area and I was wondering if you knew any good spots." You shrug your shoulders, hoping he couldn't read your mind and know that sentence was a complete lie.

"Erm, yeah." He sheepishly tells you, hearing Doctor Raynor droning in the back of his mind about putting himself out there, and not on those godforsaken dating apps again. "There's a great sushi place I know of."

Your smile brightens at his suggestion, and Bucky can't ignore how his lips rise at the sight. "Great, wanna join me then since you know it so well?" You suggest nonchalantly. "And you can always enjoy those as a dessert afterwards."

Looking down at the tray of warm cookies, Bucky tries to hide the sound of his stomach grumbling against the tray.

"Sure," He reaches into his apartment, grabbing his things including his gloves before following you out. "so, what brings you to Brooklyn?"

It's been several months since you moved in next door, and Bucky couldn't be happier that you plucked up the courage to knock that day.

Every week you two hang out, sometimes you join him and Yori for lunch who spends most of the time trying to convince Bucky to ask you out (only to be scolded when you're absent.) Sometimes you'll cook dinner, dance around your apartment and watch movies or wander around the city whilst Bucky tells you old stories; just like normal friends do, right?

It was truly blissful, but there was still so much about each other you had yet to learn.

Running his fingers through his combed hair, Bucky tugs on his blue henley before heading out.

As he locks his front door, he carries out dinner that he promised to make for you tonight.

"Oh, James." Your neighbour in 2F, Clarissa, stands in front of her door with her handbag and walking stick.

"Hi, Clarissa." Bucky forces a small smile, having heard her conversations regarding his past, muttering about having a murderer in the building shouldn't be allowed.

"Heading into Y/n's I take it." She hums, eyeing him carefully as he nods in response. "She should be back later, told me she had to go to the hospital." Waving herself off, Clarissa turns the lock in her doors.

"The hospital?" Bucky speaks up as the containers in his hands begin to slip, his mind going a hundred miles an hour. "Y/n's in the hospital?" Trying not to yell, Bucky steps closer, causing Clarissa to clutch her handbag tightly in front of her chest.

"Yes," Clarissa states calmly, but Bucky notices the keys in her right hand begin to shake.

"Thanks." Bucky mutters, stepping away as he darts back into his own apartment and grabs his coat, barely able to process his thoughts before rushing down the stairwell with nothing but you on his mind.

Reaching the entrance to the hospital, Bucky hands the driver some money without any words being exchanged. Bucky knew he looked like hell; he couldn't focus properly on anything. He had only seen you last night, the two of you in his apartment painting his living room walls, laughing together as you accidentally flicked paint across his cheek.

The reception area was crowded, voices bounced from wall to wall as Bucky strode toward the desk where a woman sat, staring blankly at a screen.

"How can I help?" She asks, briefly glancing up at Bucky before focusing on her screen once more.

Suddenly lost for words, Bucky homes in on a man crying in the waiting area, loudly sobbing into his hands as a nurse stands over him.

"Y/n Y/l/n, I'm looking for Y/n." Bucky forces the words out as the Nurse simply nods whilst typing away, humming a tune to herself.

"Oh okay," The Nurse pauses as her eyes scan over the monitor.

Clutching the edge of the desk, Bucky can hear the plates in his metal arm whirring as his grip tightens, nearly tearing the panel off as the silence becomes insufferable.

"So Y/n is currently in the operating theatre." The nurse tells Bucky nonchalantly, glancing up to see something change in his expression.

"No," Shaking his head, Bucky steps back. "she, I, I we were going to have dinner." It sounds pathetic to him, saying it aloud. But seeing you, having any moment with you made him feel human again, almost normal.

"Yeah, crazy how schedules fall." A heavy sigh leaves the nurses lips, unaware of the cool gaze that is locking in on her.

"Do you know when she'll be-" Before Bucky can finish his sentence, he's caught off guard by someone calling his name from the corridor.

"James?" You chuckle, walking toward him wearing your uniform adorned with your badge.

"Doll?" Bucky stutters, stepping closer as he tries to stop the tears in his eyes from forming. "You, you're okay?" He mumbles, looking you over, keeping his hands on your arms.

"Why wouldn't I be?" You ask, evidently surprised. "Everything okay, James?" Lowering your voice, you peer down to look him in the eyes whilst his head hangs low.

"Clarissa said you were in the hospital." Bucky huffs in annoyance to himself. "I, I didn't put it together," He mumbles. "I forgot that you,"

"That I'm a Doctor?" Holding back the laugh in your throat, you sigh before tugging Bucky closer into your embrace. "I'm okay, James. I'm only sorry you came all this way."

Keeping you in his arms, Bucky doesn't want to let go. Whilst your face rests in the crook of his neck, he allows a few stray tears to fall in relief. "I, I made us dinner." He eventually says, feeling you pull back to look at him, your eyes softening at the trails left on his cheeks.

"Oh, James." Raising your hand, you cup his cheek. "I'll be off work in an hour. I'm so sorry I should've said something or let you know sooner."

Shaking his head, Bucky takes your hand from his cheek and runs his fingers over your knuckles. "Don't worry 'bout it, Y/n. I'm just glad you're safe." He tells you, wishing he could say something else, but for now, that was enough.

"Did you make,- Your eyes light up in excitement, but Bucky cuts you off before you can finish your sentence.

"Yep." Bucky chuckles as you do a little dance. "You're such a dork sometimes, doll."

"Yeah," You admit, slipping your hand from his as you bury them in your pockets. "but would you have me any other way, neighbour?" Raising a brow to him, Bucky shakes his head. "Thought as much."

"I'll keep dinner warm for you." He smiles, hearing the word neighbour circle his thoughts. Yet, for once, Bucky forces his intrusive thoughts aside as his lips brush across your forehead. "Be good, Doc." He can't help but laugh to himself at the sound of your heart beating rapidly whilst externally, you remain cool.

"I'll try my best, Barnes." You salute him, watching as he walks back out of the hospital, knowing he's one step closer to calling you his girl.

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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

angelicmark · 4 years

Text

salt and ice (m)

pairing: haechan x reader

genre: angst, smut, fluff, f2l (kinda)

warning: unprotected sex, sixty-nining, dirty talk, oral, fingering, semi-public fingering, orgasm denial, overstimulation

wc: 14.6k

summary: lee donghyuck was your best friend, but you hated him. well, at least you think you do. you hate everything that he is, and everything he had become. despite this, you find your friendship actually quite simple with him, never crossing the line of being too complicated. as time starts to grow, and as donghyuck starts to realize he wants to become closer to you, things start to change. and soon enough, you’re stuck on the ‘complicated’ line with him. your dynamic soon becomes like salt and ice.

your blood was running. you could feel your head turning hot and your hands becoming restless. you huff out a breath of air, your eyes scanning across the door in front of you. what the hell were you doing here? this was the last place you should have been at this hour. but you were here anyway, your body moving against you and knocking against the door with haste.

you hear a loud curse from the other side of door before it swings open to a very displeased donghyuck. his hair was sticking in different directions, his eyes narrowing in your direction, shirt barely over his head and pants hanging lowly on his hips. when he realizes it’s you who disturbed him at such an ungodly hour, his eyebrow raises and he has a smirk tracing his pretty features.

“y/n? nice seeing you here,” he leans against the frame, arms crossed. and you snort at the action, your eyes rolling.

quite frankly, you hated him. you hated donghyuck and everything that he was. but he was your friend, believe it or not. lee donghyuck was your childhood friend, and everyone knew that. no one made sense of it, and to be honest, neither did you. you weren’t a ‘good girl’, but you did care about your future just a bit. donghyuck, however, could care less. deciding that fucking around and causing trouble was his way to go. and you hated him. you hated your friend since childhood. but you were still his friend.

“never mind,” your voice was monotone, and he looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, “i see you’re busy.”

he rolls his own eyes at that, “not even. i was sleeping, idiot. you think i have a girl over at this fucking hour? fuck that.”

you nod your head, a smile creeping up on you. that’s right. donghyuck hated having girls over at night, he knew that was when you normally decided it was time to go see him. sometimes it hurt you for how thoughtful he could be.

“i see,” you shift on your feet, almost feeling awkward. you didn’t really know why you were there, in all honesty. and he seemed to know that, because next thing you know, you’re being dragged into his apartment. you let out a little noise of surprise, and he chuckles.

he shuts his door, “what’s wrong?” he questions, hand still in yours as he takes you with him to his room. you didn’t exactly realize just how tired you were until you made it into the confines of his surprisingly clean room. he was tidy, beyond most belief.

you sigh, letting your hand fall loose from his as you climb into his king size bed, “tired.”

he’s quick to join you, raising an eyebrow at you, “i know that’s not all, y/n.” and you hated how much he knew you. you hated how close he clung to you, knowing you like how he felt when he held you.

your body falls limp into his grip, and he tugs you closer, “i got broken up with again.”

at this, he tenses and his mind starts flooding, his stare turning intense the longer he looks at you. he could hear his heart in his head, blood starting to rush there. he almost felt light headed. he swallows, nerves starting to surface. in some ways, donghyuck loved you. he loved how driven you were, how you were respectful of others, and secretly loving. but he knew times a million that he wasn’t your type. you always went after the high scholar boys, even as kids. so, for the rest of his life, he will lay awake and imagine that you are his. he wanted you happy, and if it wasn’t with him? he had no choice but to accept his fate.

he eases as he holds you, “men suck.”

you chuckle at his statement, somehow finding his presence comforting. “they do.” but, maybe, he doesn’t. maybe donghyuck isn’t the person everyone else sees. you know he isn’t. he places a façade up, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t bother you. you wished he would just let his guard down. maybe then you would stop holding such a grudge against him.

“can we sleep?” hyuck yawns as he snuggles into you, breathing in your scent that makes you somehow at ease. “it’s late.”

you look over at him, and notice how his eyes were barely open at this point. he sluggishly smiles at you, making you want to smile back. “yeah, of course.” you did wake him up pretty late, and you felt quite sorry for him. he hums a soft ‘goodnight’ and easily falls asleep. but his hold on you burns your skin, and you feel like you’re going against your morals by simply laying in bed with him. but he was your friend. so, why did your heart pick up when you looked at the way his eyelashes rested beautiful upon his cheeks? donghyuck was in no way your type. he wasn’t someone you could see yourself with in the long run. you were even surprised you were still friends with him after all this time, especially since you had such a bitter feeling towards him. but maybe that’s why you felt so bitter towards him. he became apart of your life so easily, for so long. and it scared you. lee donghyuck was all that you truly knew.

you stare at him one last time, before placing a soft kiss on his forehead, “goodnight, donghyuck.”

maybe you didn’t hate him as much as you thought.

“hey there, pretty girl,” you hear a voice behind you. your eyes come in contact with honey brown ones, making warmth spread through your body. you weren’t sure if it was in annoyance or fondness. but there was no denying the way hyuck’s small smile made you stare at him for just a second longer.

“hey,” you’re short in your response, turning to pay attention to the book you hold. you can practically feel his pout burning holes into the back of your head. donghyuck constantly demanded attention, needing some type of affection or else he’d probably combust.

he plops in the seat next to you, “what’s up?” he rests his head in his hand, sipping the drink he had in the other. your eyes travel down to his lips, watching as he sips the drink. you unknowingly lick your own, but it doesn’t seem to go unnoticed by him because next thing you know, he’s smiling at you like he won the lottery. “wanna kiss?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes as you turn back to the book once again, “in your dreams.”

“always in my dreams,” he sighs dramatically, making you side eye him. he was still smiling, the small moment obviously boosting his already large ego. donghyuck can’t help himself from admiring you for a few seconds. you had your lips slightly pursed, indicating you were in deep thought. or you were annoyed, but either way he found it endearing. your eyes were scanning over the pages like you belonged there right in that moment. he admires you like you’re his, like he’s allowed to and this is a normal occurrence. and maybe you can feel his gaze, and maybe you ignore it. because maybe you liked his eyes on you.

“is there something you needed?” you ask him, bringing him out of the trance he was once in.

he eyes you for a minute before finally responding, “no, not really. i just wanted to be around you, i guess.” he shrugs his shoulders as he takes another sip of his drink, the condensation starting to drip onto the table.

you nod, “okay.”

hyuck never understood you. he could never predict what you were thinking and it frustrated him, in a way. you were quite cold towards him, never once opening your heart to him. you barely even opened your mind to him. you were a mystery. maybe that’s why he stayed for so long. and hyuck never asked questions, and maybe that’s why you stayed for so long too. your friendship with hyuck was simple, you assumed. but there was a fine line between being simple and complicated, and you were sure you were right on the edge of it. donghyuck knew you practically dreaded being around him, and he always wondered why you never rejected him or shoved him out of your life.

“how are you?” the words seemed to come out of his mouth before he could think. it wasn’t like hyuck to ask random questions without a reason. this makes you raise an eyebrow in his direction, eyes finally off the book completely.

“fine, you?” it felt almost awkward to talk to him like this. you definitely weren’t used to it. most of the time, conversations with him were short and came naturally. but it seemed as if he was forcing it this time.

“fine..” he pauses, clearing his throat as he looks around the room. you were in the college café, the sun shining in on the both of you. he can see the way it lights up your hair and brightens your eyes. he swallows, seeing the few people who came in and out.

“donghyuck,” the way you say his name makes his spine shiver, “are you okay?” you look curious, an eyebrow raised in accusation.

in all honesty, he wasn’t sure. because from the way he started to notice your small habits all over again, he wasn’t sure at all. he could see you starting to pick at the corners of the pages, your eyes switching from one of his eyes to the other, your face relaxing as you waited for a response out of him.

he nods his head, regardless of being unsure, “yeah, i’m fine. i think i’m just tired. i mean, come on, nine in the morning?” he makes a disgusted face, twisting in displeasure as he glances up at the clock for a brief second.

you scoff, eyes going back to the book, “don’t tell me then.”

at this, donghyuck can’t help the surprise from etching itself onto his face. his eyebrows shot up, eyes widening and mouth twitching. he watches as you look boringly at the thick pages in front of you. you were undoubtedly genuinely reading it, judging from the way your eyes were scanning just like before he interrupted. hyuck can’t help from his brain starting to wander. were you upset? he had no clue, because if you were then you were being quite passive aggressive about it. which he guessed would be about right with you. but it didn’t change the fact that he felt... guilty?

you break the silence first before he can catch up to his thoughts, “you’re distracting, i’m trying to read.”

“am i that attractive?” hyuck puts up his front again.

you stare for a second too long, which makes him nervous. you end up not saying anything as you close your book, and he finally notices the cup of coffee on the table. you take a big gulp, scrunching up your nose at the slightly bitter taste. he takes a sip of his own drink, the cold liquid running down his throat.

“i’ll see you later, donghyuck,” you state, and he’s quick to react.

“where are you going?” he furrows his eyebrows.

you slightly raise your own eyebrow, “class?” you say it like it’s obvious.

hyuck shifts in his seat, “oh, right, sorry.” he clears his throat, “see you later, y/n.”

you stare at him curiously, before finally starting to walk away after a soft nod of your head. he sighs, letting out a deep breath. it was truly getting harder and harder being around you. it was never like that with you. he found your friendship quite simple as well, so what would happen if he starts to complicate it by changing things? he didn’t mean to draw closer to the ‘complicated’ line of your friendship, he truly didn’t. but as he watched you walk away, he couldn’t help himself from wondering if you would have let him walk you there. why did he want to be closer to you?

he’ll never be closer than this. he’ll forever be stuck in this loop of uncertainty, and it almost pained him.

the thought of you pained him, just a bit.

hyuck’s sleepy eyes were barely adjusting to the bright contrast on his phone as it loudly rings. he let’s out a groan, his slumber being interrupted. when he looked at the caller, his eyes go wide and suddenly he feels wide awake. it was you. you were calling him. he checks the time on his digital clock, furrowing his eyebrows as he sees it’s one in the morning. it wasn’t super late, but it was for you. hyuck adjusts himself in his bed, sitting upright.

pressing accept, he sighs, “y/n?” there’s silence on the other line, and he assumes maybe you miscalled him and he’s about to say something more, but you speak up.

“hyuck?” his heart skips a beat as he hears you call him by his nickname. you’ve never addressed him by that, always being formal in the way you speak. so when he hears you start to break down that piece of you, his body becomes on full alert. just for you.

“yeah? i’m here.” hyuck’s voice is soft and almost giving out on him as he sits out of breath just from hearing you call him ‘hyuck’. maybe he was being a bit dramatic, but he swears you were an angel reincarnated.

“sorry, did i wake you?” your voice on the other end is so, so soft. it’s not as firm as normal and it feels like you’re genuinely giving him a part of you that you haven’t to others.

“kinda,” he clears his throat, and you hear shuffling coming from his end of the line, “but don’t worry about it. did you need something?”

your eyes scan the room of your bedroom. why did you call him? you were completely unsure. but maybe you needed to stop trying to be so ‘sure’ of everything. exhaustion was starting to get to you and for some reason, hyuck was the cure to a long day each and every time. before calling him, you were unable to sleep. tossing and turning most of the night, and your hands and mind subconciously ended up calling hyuck, leading to now.

“no, not really.” you were being honest. you didn’t need anything. “i couldn’t sleep.”

hyuck hums, and he nods his head as if you can see, “that sucks. is something stressing you out or..?”

you shake your head, thinking he can see you this time. you’re quick to answer, though, “no, not in particular. i just wanted to call you, i guess.” you shift uncomfortably in your spot, eyes nervously shifting around the room again. you were starting to grip the phone a little tighter and your lips were beginning to become swollen from biting them.

hyuck smiles, and he’s grateful you can’t see it because then you might have closed yourself off again. he couldn’t have that. “you can always call me.” it’s so genuine that it makes your head spin a bit. you weren’t quite used to this side of him, and you were sure he wasn’t used to this side of you either.

“thanks,” you pause for a bit, debating on your next words, “you, too. you can call me, too.”

hyuck chuckles a bit, making the air just a bit lighter, “thanks, baby.”

your eyes go wide at the nickname. it wasn’t uncommon for hyuck to just outright say those things, but it still shocked you when he did. your heart started to pick up speed a bit as silence was once again created on the call. hyuck almost started to panic, but he decided to be patient because at least you haven’t hung up on him. hyuck’s flirty attitude normally annoyed you. but, this time, it did the opposite. you quite liked it.

“yeah..” you sigh, pouting as your response comes out shaky and he starts to bubble up a laugh again.

“yeah?” hyuck mocks you, raising an eyebrow as he stares at his bedsheets, imaging just how you look right now. he was sure you were just gorgeous.

“shut up,” you grumble, tone slightly playful.

hyuck grins from ear to ear at this, enjoying this side of you very much, “i would love to see you make me.”

you scoff, but you can’t help the heat you start to feel creeping up the back of your neck, “i hate you.”

“you wish you did,” you can hear the smile on his face as he speaks.

you stay quiet for a few seconds, thoughtfully wondering if you were starting to ease up on him more and more. you were. but you were unsure if you liked it or not. maybe you wanted that certain closeness with him. the thought of being closer to hyuck made your stomach turn, making you shuffle around on the bed again.

“you okay?” hyuck asks after too long of a silence.

you nod, before realizing once again he can’t see you, “yeah, sorry. i just lost train of thought.”

he hums, “i do that a lot.”

“i’m aware.”

hyuck scoffs this time, rolling his eyes playfully even if you couldn’t see, “do you think i don’t think?”

“i know you don’t,” you smile, enjoying the conversations he sparks up. “hyuck, you never think before speaking.”

there was the nickname again. he tried to compose himself, “i never what before i what, now?”

you laugh, and it’s such a heavenly sound that he wants to lock up in his head forever. he wants this memory for the rest of his life. he can only really imagine the way your teeth show and your cheeks raise in a gleeful smile as your mouth produces such a happy and bright sound. his body starts to tingle just at the thought.

your eyes glance at your clock, noticing it was edging right near two in the morning, “we should sleep, it’s late.”

hyuck checks his own clock, before agreeing with you, “we should. pretty girls like you need their beauty sleep.”

you want to scoff and roll your eyes, come up with a comeback, but all you can seem to manage is a small smile on your face. “you’re so cheesy.”

“and you like it,” hyuck had a bright grin on his face.

you nod, knowing he can’t see this time. maybe you did like it. “goodnight, hyuck.”

his heart thumps in his chest as he licks his lips out of nervousness, “goodnight, baby.”

when you hang up, your body feels hot and tingly. you weren’t used to focusing so much of your time onto him, or anyone really. it was starting to make your head feel light. there was no describing the feelings hyuck gave you. and you were so unsure of where the line stood between you and him, but you were starting to not mind being unsure. because at least you had him, and you were too scared to lose that.

hyuck was growing onto you more and more.

this was ridiculous. absolutely fucking ridiculous. you let out a large breath of air, determined to start banging on the door of your ‘best friend’. just as your knuckles almost reach the door, it swings open. and you narrow your eyes at the sight of the pretty lady in front of you. you weren’t sure if the sting in your chest was because of jealousy, or if it was simply because he bailed on you for her. but to say you weren’t surprised is true. this was how it normally was with donghyuck, and that’s what created such a high tension between the two of you. you hated it. you were starting to remember why exactly you hated him in the first place. no matter how generous and thoughtful he could be, he would always be the same person he was a month ago.

“oh, hello!” she chirps with a light smile, unsure where to go with the conversation. you catch the sight of her slightly smudged lipstick and messy hair, failing to keep her composure the longer she stood there.

“hi,” you spoke firmly, like usual. you were starting to fall back into old habits between yourself and others, including donghyuck.

“are you alright-” you hear the voice of the male who bailed on you once again for a piece of ass. his face drains of color as he sees you at the door, suddenly realizing his huge mistake. but it doesn’t even phase you anymore, too used to the feeling of being disappointed by him.

“i’ll be going,” the lady speaks softly, aware of the tension in the room. you don’t watch as she leaves, stuck on glaring at donghyuck in front of you.

“this is a classic,” you scoff, your voice spilling with a vile tone.

he winces, “look, i’m sorry.”

you laugh bitterly, not once breaking eye contact, “that’s a bigger fucking classic. what kind of ‘friend’ bails each and every fucking time on them for a fuck from a girl? was it worth it? was she good?” you step closer as you reach inside his apartment, “i’ve been patient with you, donghyuck. so fucking patient. you don’t text, you don’t even call. not a single fucking notice from you, and i have to come here personally each time just to see you’re fucking yet another girl. i could give two shits who you’re fucking, but it matters when you cancel on me each time for someone else.”

donghyuck freezes in his spot. you’ve never spoken that much before, normally opting to a ‘i see’ and then leaving. the guilt sitting in the pit of his stomach is large this time. he wants to speak and tell you he’s sorry, but he realizes now that it won’t make much of a difference this time. maybe it never has made a difference, maybe you always felt this way. he was sure you did.

you huff, finally looking away from him as you turn your back to him and walk out the door that still remained open. you didn’t have much else to say to him. you hated him, and this made it final. you kept him around each and every time because he stayed by your side too. but this time was different, so different. you wondered how you could go from opening up to him to hating him again so quickly.

“y/n,” his voice sounded almost fragile. “i’m sorry, and i realize it might not make a difference this time. or any other time. but i just don’t think i’m sure of where my heart lies when it comes to you.”

you stand still, and it feels like the world did too. you weren’t sure how to react. what did that even mean? you huff, the air suddenly feeling suffocating. friendships were in no way supposed to be like this, feel like this. it was hell on both parts. why were you so afraid of letting him go? when you turn again and look at him, you see he’s avoiding eye contact with you. it was tense, neither of you choosing to speak first after his statement. you desperately wanted to leave, turn around and walk out. your heart was hammering in your chest and the blood was rushing to your head. you could even hear your heart at this point.

“i think i have feelings for you,” he gulps, eyes wandering around the room.

you scoff, “you have a sick way of showing it.” it seems that you completely skip over the meaning behind his words. you only really realize what he’s said after you spit out your comeback.

“yeah.” he’s quiet, and you’re not used to that side of him.

you believed communication was a crucial part of a friendship, but you were at a loss of words this time. where did your friendship go completely wrong? when did it suddenly become so complicated? was it secretly always this way? your mind was flooding with questions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ask anything.

your face turns into a deep frown, eyebrows furrowing as you try to complete the thoughts in your head. nothing felt right, not a single thing. maybe that’s why you leave that night with a simple nod of your head. you were unsure, once again. and you didn’t find comfort in it. you leave that night, a million questions unanswered and so many words unsaid. and donghyuck doesn’t stop you, and you don’t turn around. you can feel yourself just itching to turn around, but you don’t. you listen to your head over your heart, once again.

you end up going days without speaking to him, avoiding him perfectly. donghyuck makes no effort into communicating with you either, making it a lot easier to avoid him. as days pass, and as those days turn into well over a week, you can feel a hole starting to create itself in your heart. you were slowly starting to tear yourself apart each and everyday. was donghyuck truly that important to you? you tried filling the empty spots with studying and lots of sleep but no matter what you do, nothing ever felt right. nothing could fill that certain type of void that you knew, in a way, belonged to donghyuck. he was the comfort after a long day, no matter how many times he had disappointed you. you hated how much a part of you knew you needed him in your life. you hated that donghyuck had that kind of power over you.

you sigh, tears starting to prickle in your eyes. you scan across your desk in front of you, seeing the endless papers and pens and pencils laying there. you were slowly starting to understand what donghyuck meant when he said he didn’t exactly know where his heart laid when it came to you. because you were starting to become unsure of where your own heart was when it came to him. you desperately wanted to hate him. you shoved that certain idea in your head for so long just to avoid these kinds of feelings. maybe a part of you knew you couldn’t keep that up forever.

you jump when you hear your phone starting to ring, the annoying sound filling the once silent room. you search under the piles of papers, finally coming in sight with the device. when you see the caller, your stomach drops and your heart picks up. of course it was donghyuck. you stare at the screen for what seems like hours, before watching as the call automatically declines. you wanted to answer, but your fingers wouldn’t let you hit accept. your body froze, and your muscles seemed to stop working just for that small moment.

you let out a strong breath of air, wiping away the excess tears. you were starting to run out of energy. you quickly became exhausted, eyes drooping as you lightly place your phone back down. simply thinking about donghyuck was becoming draining, and you just wished you could turn that part of you off. the part that secretly cared so deeply for him. the part that wanted to keep trying for him. the part that kept bringing him back in, each and every time. but maybe you knew there was no turning that off.

there was no turning back from caring for donghyuck.

two whole weeks of not talking to donghyuck, and you were starting to fall into this sickly slow routine. it felt like days were dreadfully passing one by one. as you were studying, you hear a knock on your door. and you already assumed who it was, your brain starting to come back to its senses. and you don’t seem to hesitate this time as you make way to the door, swinging it open just to come in contact with honey brown eyes. you hated how significantly beautiful he looked, even with bags under his eyes and messy hair.

“i hate you,” you breathe out, your chest tightening the longer you look at him.

“i know,” he says, and you almost want to cry from hearing his voice after so long. “i know you do.”

“you’re such a fucking jerk, donghyuck.” and you fall into him. your body slugs its way into his arms, and he accepts you like you belong there and nowhere else. and maybe you did, but you weren’t admitting that anytime soon. your arms wrap around his torso, holding him so tightly you were almost worried for his lungs and ribs. but he didn’t seem to care. he just held you, his own arms wrapping around your shoulders and tugging you closer.

you can make out the scent that’s so distinctively him, your hands starting to fist into his shirt and causing it to wrinkle. you hold onto him and this moment so tightly. you were almost afraid he would disappear. why did you need him so bad?

when you start to pull away, he lets out a sigh. you can see just how exhausted and tired he was. “i’m sorry.” his voice is hoarse, and his eyes are barely awake.

“fuck you.”

you press your lips to his. and there’s no describing the feeling you get when he kisses you like you are all he needs in that very moment. his hands are on your body quicker than you can imagine, and your own are in his hair, tugging and pulling to bring him closer. he lets out a noise of approval, his hands traveling up your shirt to feel your bare skin. you shiver, the action not going unnoticed by the boy you’re kissing. you don’t feel sparks, but you do feel butterflies starting to form in the pit of your stomach. donghyuck was not the person you needed, but he was desperately what you wanted.

he makes his way into your small complex finally, shutting the door behind him as he kisses you for all he’s worth. and you feel that hole in your heart beginning to be filled the longer you kiss him. his tongue swipes along your lower lip, asking for access to which you grant him. the world seems to be falling into place for that small moment.

“bed,” you huff, pulling apart from him. he nods his head, eagerly leading you towards your bedroom.

he’s quick to push you down, and you’re quick to place your lips back on his, your fingers already pulling at the strands of his hair. you noticed it grew just a bit longer than usual, but you weren’t complaining in the slightest. donghyuck hums against your lips, exploring your mouth with his tongue and making you let out a sweet sound that goes straight to his ears. he can’t help himself from pressing into you, his hips rolling against yours. he needed to hear more of you, he was already addicted to the noises you made.

this prompted him in pulling away, earning the cutest whine from you. he chuckled at you expense, “i’m not going anywhere.” he licks his lips, “can i remove these?” he tugs at the hem of your sweatpants, looking at you for approval. when you quickly nod, he smiles angelically and makes quick work of removing them. he takes notice of the shirt you’re wearing, realizing that it belongs to him. “miss me that much?” his hands feel along your thighs, the skin soft under his fingertips.

“yes,” your response surprises him, his eyebrows shooting up. “it smelled like you.” he takes in the sight of your innocent eyes scanning him, the teary look making his heart beat wildly in his chest.

“fuck,” he lets out. he licks his lips again, “i want to eat you out.”

you laugh softly, “do you?” he nods. “i want to suck you off, though.” you pout, your hands starting to trail down to his own pair of sweatpants. he looks at you for a moment, before something clicks in his head. you’re about to ask what he’s thinking of, before he abruptly flips the two of you over. you let out a soft yelp, “donghyuck-”

“sixty-nine,” he says simply, taking sight of you straddling him. “ride my face and suck my cock.” you wiggle on top of him, feeling his hard on. he groans a bit, “please? i really want to taste you.”

you take a moment to think it over, before finally nodding your head, “okay.” he smiles at you as he makes quick work of his own shirt, making you follow right after. when his eyes come back to you, you’re shirtless and your breasts are right in front of him. he lowly curses under his breath, admiring just how beautiful you really are.

“holy shit,” he mentally devours you, his hands making way along your sides and going to cup you. you sigh into his hold, his fingers starting to pinch and pull at your nipples. the sweet mewl you let out makes his cock twitch in his pants. you grind against him, eyes starting to close out of bliss. “fuck, baby. so pretty.”

you whine, “please, donghyuck.” you open your eyes again to look at him, “let me suck you off.”

he groans, “fuck, yeah, okay.” he lets go of your breasts, trailing his hands to your panties. “take these off.” you nod your head, making quick word in slipping them off, leaving you completely bare for him. he takes in the sight of you once again, you were truly too beautiful for this world. so perfect in his eyes.

your hands tug at his sweatpants, “take these off now.” you smile sweetly at him, something he’s not quite used to. he’s not sure he ever would be. he follows your command, and you watch as his cock springs free from his underwear and sweatpants. you can’t help from licking your lips at the sight, wanting nothing more than to have him in your mouth. he was so pretty.

“turn around and sit on my face.” his words were so vulgar, but he says them like they’re the most casual thing in the world. you can feel your body starting to heat up, following what he said. when you start to inch closer to his face, you become more aware of how close he is to your pussy. “don’t be nervous. fuck, please don’t be nervous. you’re so damn pretty like this, so wet.”

you feel his hands make way to your thighs, his fingers digging into the skin there, “donghyuck..” you want to say more, but he’s already working on your core before you can get anything else out. you gasp, a sound of surprise leaving you and turning into a soft whine. he revels in it, wanting more and more out of you.

“so sweet, too,” he hums against you. the vibrations make you curl forward, suddenly aware of his cock that sat there painfully hard in front of you. two could play, you thought. when your hand shakily wraps around him, slowly going up and down, he groans against you and pulls away for a second. “fuck, okay.”

he quickly dives right back into your pussy when he feels you spit on his cock before licking up the base. he sighs, his tongue running along your folds before pressing into your clit. you moan as you suck on his tip, one of your hands gripping tightly onto his thigh while the other is wrapped around his dick. he’s heavy and hot on your tongue, but it’s so hard to focus when hyuck begins to moan against you and dip his tongue inside of you, curling it to reach a certain spot.

“hyuck,” you call out his name, and his ears perk up at the sweet sound. he works his tongue against you faster and your hips buck against him, wanting more.

“such a sweet, pretty cunt.” his words make you take him back into your mouth as far as you can go, slightly gagging around him. he lets out a choked groan, the sound going straight through you as his tongue continuously curls inside of you. it feels so fucking good, your mind turning hazy as you try your best to bob your head and stay focused on him. when you pull back from his cock, a string of saliva attaches there between your lips and you let out a loud moan of his name when you feel him press his fingers against your clit. you lazily jerk him off, your head resting against his thigh.

“fuck, fuck. hyuck, you’re so good, feels so good.” he hums, speeding up again and making you start to grind down against his tongue and fingers. you swirl your tongue around the head of his cock and moan, the vibrations making him buck his own hips into your mouth.

“shit,” he curses, “just like that, baby.” he feels as you start to speed up your own ministrations, bobbing your head quicker and wrapping your hand around what you can’t reach. “my pretty girl, fuck.” his voice was trailing away from him, making him go right back to tongue fucking you. you were so, so close. you could almost taste it.

“hyuck i..” you pull away from his cock, but your hand doesn’t stop its fast pace on him, “i’m gonna cum, shit, you’re gonna make me cum.” the hand that wasn’t rapidly jerking him off was still clutching desperately onto his thigh, and you were sure you left some kind of bruise there and some scratches. but he didn’t seem to mind as he hummed against you, encouraging you to cum.

“cum for me,” he licks you and his fingers pick up pace on your clit, making you wail out a cry, “cum on my tongue, let me taste my sweet girl.”

your hand tightens around his cock, making him hiss as you let out a string of moans and cries, your orgasm washing over you. he can’t help himself from cumming with you, the sounds you make being enough to set him off. you feel as some of his cum spurts onto your hand and even a little on your shoulder. and he licks you clean while groaning against you, helping you ride it out as you wildly buck your hips against his face. he thinks it’s the prettiest sight he has ever had the pleasure of seeing. he continues to lick you clean, and you have to swat his head away for him to stop after slowing your hand down on his dick. you roll off of him, your legs giving out on you as you lay next to him.

“you’re so pretty fucked out,” he comments, looking at you like you carry heaven in your eyes.

you laugh breathlessly, “thanks.” you lick your lips, tasting the small sheen of sweat, “you too.”

a light dust of pink spread on his cheeks, “you’re covered in my cum.”

“you’re covered in mine.” you spit back, and he laughs.

“we should clean up.” his voice is soft, and so are his eyes. his hooded lids trail across your body, admiring you once again. even when you look like a mess, he still thinks you’re the most beautiful girl to exist.

“yeah,” you agree, “shower?”

“please?” he whines, making you chuckle and nod your head.

the shower is mostly quiet, no words exchanged as the both of you clean one another off. there’s no hidden meaning this time, and it’s not rushed. you want this moment to last forever. there was no fighting, no heavy tension, and the moment wasn’t complicating like the rest. it was silent, but it wasn’t suffocating. and you could only wish for more moments like these.

the two of you wrap up in one another’s arms for the night, letting tomorrow worry for itself for the night.

you felt like you were on fire, your body burning as you catch sight of donghyuck. he was on campus on time for the first time in awhile, and it made you swim with curiosity as you start to approach him. he didn’t seem to notice you yet, eyes trained on his phone with a bored expression. when you reach him, he looks up with wide eyes, like he wasn’t expecting you. you hadn’t seen him in almost a whole entire week. you weren’t avoiding him, you just simply didn’t have the time to talk to him.

“what are you doing here? we don’t have classes together,” you pointedly ask him, eyes almost narrowing in his direction.

“come with me,” he cheekily smiles at you, like you’re really about to follow after him.

“no.” your answer is so simple, and he pouts at you.

“why? i promise it’s good.” he tries to persuade you, looking at you with a certain look in his eyes. and you hate that look, because you normally always fall for it. he was going to tear you down one day.

you feel irritation looking at him, “i have to study.” your tone was quite cold, and he seemed to catch on.

his eyes scatter around the building, “just this once.”

you roll your eyes, “no. if you want to head to the library with me, you can. but i’m not going anywhere with you.”

donghyuck stands for a minute, considering your words before finally shrugging his shoulders, “alright then. let’s go.” he smiles as you look at him blankly before finally starting to walk towards the library. you weren’t sure what he had up his sleeve, but he seemed too content for your comfort. he noticed your slightly tense shoulders, but said nothing. he just softly hums to himself, hands in his pockets as the both of you walk.

when you enter the library, you send him a look of warning to keep quiet. he just smiles like usual, making you even more uneasy. donghyuck was in no way innocent, and you knew this. maybe you shouldn’t have invited him knowing this, but a small shameful part of you was curious what he had in store for you. donghyuck would never go to the library voluntarily without having something else planned.

you walk to the back, somewhere quiet without many people. you preferred this spot over anywhere else, and suddenly you’re aware of how intimiate this all seems. you place yourself in the seat, and he makes sure to sit as close to you as possible. you huff, bringing out your books quietly and trying to ignore his presence. you had no plans of giving him the satisfaction of your attention. your mind plays several past events with donghyuck, unable to pay attention to your studies as you’re well aware of his cologne scenting up the air. you want to hate him for how much he has consumed your brain, but you can’t seem to focus on that as he lightly places a hand on your knee.

now you know what he wants.

your eyes shoot him a glare, silently telling him to knock it off. he doesn’t seem to listen as he smirks to himself, looking at your lips. you can’t seem to deny the intriguing feeling you get as he runs his hand up higher to your thigh. you can feel his thumb rubbing in circles, practically burning holes in your clothes. you break eye contact, hands hastily clutching onto the book in front of you. but you never once tell him directly to stop, and he takes it as a sign to continue. it fills his pride, and you know it does. you curse to yourself in your head. you shouldn’t be giving him what he wants so quickly. but you can’t help yourself from slightly spreading your legs when his hand inches higher and higher before finally hovering over the button on your jeans. he watches your face, licking his lips as he imagines kissing them to distract you. his hand is hot against you, making you slightly squirm.

he lowers his face to your ear, “can you be quiet?” his tone is teasing, and you immediately want to slap him. but you also desperately want him to finger you.

you’re suddenly aware of where you are, looking around with panic, “here?” you ask back in a hushed whisper before looking at him. he was really close to you, you could practically taste the mint of the gum in his mouth.

his lips quick up, “i asked you to go somewhere else earlier, but you refused.” he lightly kisses your cheek, his fingers starting to move again and make work on your button and zipper, “so i’ll just have to finger fuck you here, hm?”

you look at him with soft eyes, and he admires you for a minute. you weren’t normally obedient towards him, always having to argue against him. but you couldn’t seem to stop the soft nod of your head as you spread your legs wider for him. he’s almost just as surprised as you, but neither of you say anything. his hand makes its way inside your jeans, cupping your heat over your panties. he watches as your tense shoulders start to sag and you ease into his touch, it fuels his ego. he hears the soft sigh you let out when he presses his fingers against your clit, rubbing in agonizingly slow circles. you direct your gaze back to the book in front of you, trying not to look too obvious. your hands are tightly clutching onto the ends, your fingers turning cold from the lack of blood. hyuck softly chuckles, watching you closely.

“you’re so cute,” he presses his fingers harder and starts moving quicker, “and you’re getting so wet, soaking your panties.”

your walls flutter against your own judgement, and you don’t say anything as he whispers soft dirty words in your ear. you gasp when he finally moves his hand inside your panties, fingers making direct contact with your wet pussy. he swirls his fingers around your hole, spreading the wetness along his fingers. he watches as your breathing becomes heavier, but he really wants to watch you try to keep your composure. he slowly inserts one of his fingers inside of you, and he watches as your eyes start to flutter shut.

“dripping cunt,” he leans closer to you, nipping at your ear softly, “so snug around my fingers. i wonder how tight you’ll be around my cock.”

you bite at your lower lip to prevent any noise coming from you as he inserts another finger inside you, pumping too slowly for your liking. donghyuck licks his lips again, enjoying the sight of you and feeling your body starting to heat up. his cock was becoming hard just watching you.

“faster,” you huff out, sounded quite breathless. you didn’t want to sound so effected by him, but it was getting harder and harder. “please..” you plead him so quietly, he was almost unsure if he heard you right. but when you look at him with hooded eyes, he knows he heard right.

he can’t seem to deny you, moving his fingers at a faster pace. the slight constriction of your jeans makes his palm rut against your clit, causing extra stimulation and making you shudder. he watches as your body reacts so perfectly to him. how could someone look so pretty? he was truly lucky that no one was around, because they’d definitely know what was happening from the way hyuck was staring at you right now. when hyuck curls his fingers upward with each harsh thrust, you let out a soft sound and immediately cover your mouth with your hand.

“feel good, baby?” he asks, looking at you with sickeningly sweet eyes. “you like my fingers inside you? inside your pretty pussy? i can feel just how wet and tight you are.”

you sigh, closing your eyes as your mind turns hazy from pleasure, “hyuck.” his name sounds so pretty and beautiful coming from you, even in a soft whisper. he finds himself completely whipped for you in that moment. he wants nothing than to please you.

“yes, angel? what does my baby need?” his voice is low and raspy in your ear, making you clench around his fingers.

“wanna cum,” you open your eyes and look at him while removing the hand from your mouth, your lips almost touching his. he swallows at the sight of you so fucked out from just his fingers. “let me cum, make me cum. please.”

he nods his head quickly, “anything for my pretty girl, anything.” he kisses your temple as you face the direction of your book again, nowhere near focused on it. he hears the soft whimper you make when he picks up his pace more, curling his fingers and making sure to rut his palm against your throbbing clit. it feels so good, he knows exactly what to do. and you find yourself becoming achingly close to your release, one of your hands reaching down to grab onto his thigh. your nails dig into his skin, and he watches with awe, admiring you like you’re the most beautiful creature to exist on earth. and he thinks you are. he imagines your nails digging into his arms and back as he makes you cum on his cock, but that’ll be for another time.

“i’m so.. close,” you whisper, your eyes squinting shut as your hips twitch.

“cum for me,” he urges you, “cum around my fingers, princess. right in this library where anyone can see.”

you shudder, your body seeming to comply to his words. your nails press into his skin so harshly, he’s almost afraid you’ll draw blood from his thigh. but he doesn’t care as he hears you utter out a soft whimper of his name, cumming right around his fingers and completely falling apart. he sees as you struggle to keep quiet, opting to rest your head on his shoulder while you nuzzle your face into his neck. he can hear your little whines so clearly and feel your breath there. it makes him swell with pride that you’re in this state all because of him. he works you through your pleasant high until your tugging at his hand and pulling it out of your pants.

“fuck,” you sigh, buttoning and zipping up your pants as quick as you can. “i hate that you just did that.” your tone is so harsh but it doesn’t effect him in the slightly. he just pops his fingers in his mouth, tasting your sweetness.

he hums as he releases his fingers, “you taste so good.”

you hush him, hitting him lightly on the shoulder and looking away from him. you look at your abandoned book that you dropped on the table while in the middle of getting absolutely finger fucked by your ‘best friend’. you huff, still unsure if you even considered him as a friend after everything. you hated him, but you didn’t. it made you almost uneasy, but you try your best to hide it as you look back at the boy next to you. he runs a hand through his hair, looking at you curiously.

“i have classes,” you state simply, gathering your books and placing everything in your bag. he watches you with a raised eyebrow.

“that’s it?” he asks.

you furrow your eyebrows, “i have classes. i’m not skipping them.”

“i’m so hard right now, though.” he whines a little too loudly.

your eyes go wide, placing a hand over his mouth, “god, shut up!” you hurriedly whisper, “take care of it yourself, i didn’t ask you to finger me.”

“you loved it, though.” he smiles cheekily again as you remove your hand from his face.

you roll your eyes, “bye, donghyuck.”

he watches as you walk out, his cock hard and his heart suddenly feeling empty. a part of him wanted more than that. not just sex-wise, but he wanted you completely and wholly. he sits back in his seat, sighing to himself. he really wasn’t sure how else to exert his feelings towards you other than this.

he really fucked himself this time.

your eyelids were heavy, and your head was pounding. you were inevitably tired, completely exhausted. walking out of your last class of the day, you’re greeted with a bright smile and gleaming eyes from the man himself, lee donghyuck. over the course of the month, the two of you starting hanging around each other more and more. but it was never casual, always leading to something ‘more’. you assumed this was what others called friends with benefits, but you were still on the fence of calling him your friend. you really shouldn’t feel that way, but you couldn’t help it. you guessed for now, donghyuck was just someone you were fucking around with. you haven’t had actual sex yet, but you assumed it would come sooner or later. the thought crossed your mind several times, but it never came up with him. you weren’t complaining too much, though. he could eat pussy like a god and finger you well enough, and you didn’t mind sucking him off and giving him handjobs.

donghyuck, on other hand, was internally struggling and you had no idea. he was slowly dying on the inside. donghyuck wanted more out of you, but he had no way of asking properly. he had no way of addressing anything to you. he always had a hard time putting his feelings on the line, especially when it came to you. the both of you were never really like that. it was always a simple exchange, never being too intense or filled with too much emotion. he saw you as distant, or simply in another world in your own head. he wanted to be apart of your world. he wanted to be your world. but he had no idea how to be. and you’ll probably never know that.

“how was class?” donghyuck nods at you, greeting you easily like he wasn’t freaking out inside. you don’t notice any different.

“fine.” you sigh out, eyes tiredly gazing at him. he seems the way you barely keep them open, pouting at you.

“you didn’t get enough sleep, did you?” he sounds concerned, but you brush it off.

“no,” you pause for a second, adjusting the strap of your bag so it’s over your shoulder with more ease, “i was up studying most the night. time got away from me so easily.” you sounded so exhausted, he was almost worried. oh hell, he was worried. he knew he was worried for you.

“wanna cuddle and sleep?” he raises an eyebrow at you, the question sound too inviting to you.

you look at him curiously, before slowly nodding your head, “i’m so tired.”

hyuck grins from ear to ear at you agreeing, “my place or yours?”

“yours,” you answer quickly, “my neighbors suck, i barely sleep there.” you grumbled with a sour expression, and he chuckles at your cute tone.

“that sucks,” he says, walking along your side as you both make it to his car. he opens the door for you, just like he did this morning. donghyuck was now giving you rides to and from college, being way too doting but you don’t complain or make objections. he was grateful for it, and so were you.

as he situates himself in the car after helping you in, he drives away with ease. you watch as he becomes focused on the road, his occasional furrowed eyebrows as he silently becomes angered by the drivers around him. it was actually quite endearing, and you liked watching him so closely. you assumed he didn’t notice or mind, but in reality he was way too aware of your eyes. they were burning into his skin and a part of him loved it way too much, and the other part wished you would look away from him. he could feel his neck and ears starting to get hot, but he tries to brush off the feeling of your eyes on him. he sighs when he finally reaches his apartment complex, looking over at you as he parks the car.

“let’s get you rested,” hyuck smiles brightly at you, and you notice a soft dust of pink across his cheeks but you don’t say anything.

“can’t wait,” you yawn, stretching out your arms as donghyuck makes his way out the car and to your door. he holds his hand out for you to take, and you look at him gratefully. his palm feels so warm in your own as you take it in your own, feeling just how soft it really was. his slender fingers wrap around your hand, and you feel almost flustered. when he lets go of your hand, you almost want him to keep holding onto you. you shake off the feeling immediately.

walking to his apartment was quiet, but for once it was comfortable. it wasn’t a suffocating silence like most times between the two of you nowadays. it felt nice being able to be around him like this for the first time in awhile. when you make it to his door, he opens it for you and waits for you to walk in first, holding his arms out in gesture for you to walk in. he has a bright smile on his face, like usual. you start to find it more and more charming as the days go by, and that develops a fear inside you. you wouldn’t be able to handle loving him. the thought alone made you more cautious and more anxious.

“do you want some of my clothes?” donghyuck closes his front door, taking off his shoes with you as the two of you make it to his bedroom. you place your bag next to the bedroom door, another yawn escaping you.

you nod your head, “please?” you ask cutely, and he lowly chuckles.

“anything for you,” he smiles, handing you some of his clothes. you take them with a warm smile of your own, and he feels his heart start to flutter. when you start to strip in front of him, he raises an eyebrow as he watches you with a close eye. “right here?”

you roll your eyes, “it’s not something new for you to see, donghyuck.”

hyuck simply smirks to himself, watching you as you change. when you slip his shirt over your head, he finds it quite endearing. you look pretty in his clothes, and he decides he’ll offer you his clothes more often just to see you wear them. you don’t wear pants, simply slipping your own off and leaving you in panties and his shirt. he admires you like you’re a work of art, and he believes that you are. he moves closer to you, wrapping his arms around your body. you jump slightly, feeling his chest pressing into your back. when he starts to press soft kisses along your neck and up your jaw, you ease into his hold. he feels you slump into his chest, and watches as your eyes flutter close.

“too tired,” you groggily answer, and he laughs against your skin, making a shiver run down your spine.

“i’m not expecting anything,” he mutters, the vibrations traveling through your body, “i just wanted to kiss you.”

you hum, resting your head against his shoulder as you look over at him. he was incredibly close, you could feel his breath fanning your face. he looks at your lips, making you unconciously lick them. his own quirk into a small smile, before leaning over to press a soft kiss to your lips. this kiss feels so different, and it sends your mind swirling. there wasn’t a hidden intention, and his hands were soothingly rubbing your sides. his lips were so soft against your own, slowly kissing one another. it feels unfamiliar coming from him, but you were too tired to really do anything or think too much about it. it feels... good. you discover that you like kissing him like this. your mind feels floaty by the time the two of you part, looking into one another’s eyes as he rests his forehead against your own. he looks so pretty up close like that, and he can say the exact same for you.

“let’s get some rest,” he whispers, slowly pulling apart from you. you subconciously follow after him, your body suddenly drawn to him like a magnet and needing to be near him. when he lays down, he opens the covers for you to slot yourself next to him. you ease into him so easily, and it feels more comfortable than normal. it feels less out of the ordinary, and more like...home. resting in his arms, felt like a certain different type of home. the kind you never wanted to leave. but you don’t struggle against him, and you don’t try to escape that feeling for the time being.

donghyuck may have always been home to you.

“i don’t get it,” you huff, eyebrows furrowing in the direction of the boy in front of you. he looks at you with nervous eyes, scanning your face and trying to read the room. he had no idea what you were thinking right now, and that terrified him. “i really just don’t get you. at all, donghyuck.”

hyuck lets out a breath of air, and he’s starting to feel the same way that you do. he didn’t exactly understand himself either. he was never sure where his feelings sparked up, or how they developed. the two of you sat together on his couch, in the middle of kissing before donghyuck abruptly pulled apart from you with wavering eyes. you tried to ask him what was wrong, but he just shook his head. you wanted to know what was wrong, but you knew he most likely wouldn’t say. you never opened up, so you didn’t expect him to either. the two of you were stuck in that cycle.

“sorry,” he mumbles, slowly shuffling away from you.

there’s a strong silence being created in the air as the minutes go by. you weren’t sure how to go from there. your mind was starting to flood with possibilities of the way your current relationship with donghyuck would go. you stare at his features, watching as his jaw starts to tighten under your gaze. his eyes fall onto his hands that are fiddling with the ends of his shorts, and he only lightly licks his lips. he can taste the excess of your chapstick, making him frown. it truly pained him, because he wished your kisses were out of love, and not out of lust.

“don’t be,” you say quietly, still inspecting him from your seat. he looks at you briefly with a small smile before looking away again. his eyes were almost empty, and it made you start to worry. “tell me what’s wrong.”

“nothing,” he tries to assure you with a smile again, looking you in the eyes again, but maintaining eye contact this time. you frown at him this time, knowing that’s not true. you didn’t want to force him into talking, but it bothered you that he was struggling and not saying anything to you.

you were completely unaware it was about you.

you didn’t know what to do. you felt like you were stuck, frozen in place. you ease into your spot on his couch, sitting criss cross next to him. donghyuck returns to his gaze on his lap, his fingers now intertwined with one another. he screwed up, he really screwed this up. if only he wasn’t so hesitant about everything that involved you, maybe he could ease up again. but he realized that would never be the case. for as long as you were around, he wasn’t going to be able to escape this feeling. everything about you seemed to drive him crazy. the way you would laugh, the way your chapstick stained his lips after kissing, the way you smelled like his own version of home. no matter what, he was convinced you would have always been a big part of his life. a huge part of him was grateful to have met you. he would never feel like he deserved you after everything, and a strong part of him felt sorry. he will never understand why you stayed for so long, but he truly wouldn’t be able to thank you enough.

donghyuck looks at you again, seeing how you sit patiently next to him. he then realizes that’s how it had always been. you waiting patiently for him while he figures his shit out. every single time, it had been you. his eyes well up suddenly while you sit, unaware of his current debate in his head. your eyes were scanning over your phone, scrolling through whatever app you were on. he admire the way the screen lights of your face, created a gleam in your eyes under the dim lighting of the room. you were beautiful like that, and he noticed the way you would scrunch your nose when you saw something you didn’t quite enjoy. he noticed the small twitch in your thumb as you pause to read something. he was noticing small details that you were probably unaware of. he found them endearing, all because they were you.

suddenly, hyuck slowly takes the phone out of your hand. you look at him with curious eyes as he turns it off, placing it on the coffee table and looking you deeply in the eyes. you feel your heart starting to pick up speed again. his stare was turning intense, making you want to scoot away from him almost, but you don’t. you stay put as he tries to figure out just what he wants to do. and donghyuck feels his own heart thumping against his chest. you would always be patient with him, he realizes.

“you mean the world to me.” it’s so abrupt, and you open your mouth slightly in shock as your eyes go wide. “i’ve discovered so much these past few months. and it’s not just because we created some kind of friends with benefits thing here, but i realized this was coming for a long time now.” his eyes never leave yours. “you’re always there. you’re always in the back of my mind no matter what. you’re the only person who has stuck by me through everything. you’re the only one who makes me feel this way, the only one who makes me question everything. you’ve made such a huge impact on my life, believe it or not. and i believe you will always be a huge part of me.” hyuck lightly grasps your hands in his, and you feel your body freeze in place, “i will never be able to get you out of my mind, because you are my home, i’ve discovered. you will always be home.”

time stands still. everything stands still. not much else mattered in that moment other than hyuck. he was staring you down, and you realize he was probably waiting on a reply. but you had no idea what to say after that. what were you supposed to say? you look him in the eyes, seeing the world in his honey brown eyes. donghyuck was in no way always good to you, you know this. your dynamic was actually quite toxic at some point. neither of you knew how to outwardly put your emotions on the line. but as you look at him in that very moment, you realize maybe hyuck was all you needed. you realized you would always end up caring for him, no matter what phases he goes through. and he knows this. he knows you will always be there, and he promises in his head that he will do the same for you now. you deserved that, at the very least.

you don’t say anything as you slowly lean forward to press a sweet kiss to his lips. he accepts you completely, the taste of your chapstick putting him under a spell. your hands leave his to trail along the nape of his neck, fingers lightly massaging his scalp in reassurance. he knows there probably wasn’t much you could have said in that moment, so he just kisses you back. he kisses you like he truly means it, and you can feel his emotions pouring out of him. his own hands grasp onto your hips, urging you to come forward onto his lap. the kiss remains slow and sweet, sending you into a frenzy. you weren’t used to kissing him like this, but you definitely weren’t complaining. it felt right. you knew this was right where you were supposed to be.

hyuck’s thumbs trace soothing circles into your hips as his hands lightly travel up under your shirt, but they don’t go anywhere. his hands are glued to the skin of your hips, sending a shiver down your spine when he lightly nips at your bottom lip. he smiles, before letting his tongue slip in your mouth. you let out a soft noise of approval, and he can’t seem to adore you any more than right now. he wishes he could stay like this forever.

when he pulls back, he sees the way your lips shine and your eyes glitter for him. he rests his forehead against yours after placing a soft kiss to your cheek, “i only need you.”

you softly smile, and he feels his stomach flip at the sight, “me too.”

he would not trade this, or you, for anything or anyone else.

you gasp for air, your back arching up as donghyuck works his fingers inside of you at a fast pace, his kisses marking along your neck, “feel good, baby? you’re so wet.” he hums in your ear.

you let out a strangled sound, “fuck, feels good. so good.”

he adores seeing you fall apart for him like this. you’re displayed so deliciously for him on his bed, and he wants to devour you. he curls his fingers up as your hands start to claw up his arms, indicating you were becoming close. you weren’t entirely sure how you ended up like this with him, but you felt too good to really care. your relationship with donghyuck was still undefined, but the two of you still haven’t stopped whatever the hell this was. you didn’t exactly mind, the air was less tense between the two of you at least.

hyuck bites your neck softly, teasing you, “gonna cum, princess? all over my fingers?” the moan you let out sounds like heaven to his ears, but for some reason, he wants to watch you suffer. maybe he was a bit cruel, because next thing you know, he’s withdrawing his fingers from your sopping core. you squirm below him and try closing your thighs together, only to be stopped by his body hovering over you. you whine, eyes shimmering under the light.

“what the fuck?” you ask, out of breath and clearly annoyed, “let me cum, hyuck, please.” he adored your begging, almost as much as he adored the way you said his name.

“you want to cum?” he tilts his head as he licks his fingers clean, your arousal covering them. you huff, throwing a small fit in front of him. he chuckles lowly in his throat, enjoying this side of you. “how about cumming on my dick then, hm?”

you lick your lips before nodding your head, “please?”

the way you beg for him makes his ego sky-rocket, his head feeling like it’s floating. the two of you haven’t fucked before, but the idea of his cock inside of you made you eager. you wanted all of him, and you could tell by the way hyuck quickly takes off his underwear that he wanted you too. you smile to yourself as he reaches for a condom, but you catch his hand before he can start looking. he looks at you with curious eyes.

“i’m on the pill, and you’re clean, right?” you ask, and he licks his lips before nodding at you.

“yeah, of course.”

“then you can cum inside me,” you bite your lower lip, staring at him with bright eyes.

he curses under his breath, “fuck.” he returns back to completely hovering over you, “are you sure?” he softly kisses you, trailing his sweet kisses down your cheek and jaw to your neck.

you smile in thought, “always.” your arms circle around his neck, softly tugging at his slightly long hair. he looks at you with adoration, before reaching down and slowly pushing his cock inside you. he stretches you out, making you gasp as you feel every single inch of him. “oh, fuck.” you sound strained, making him stop with worried eyes. you laugh a bit, “keep going, hyuck. please.” you sounded so out of breath.

he kisses your neck again, hissing at just how wet and hot and tight you were around his cock, “shit.” one of his hands grip onto your hip tightly, the other beside your head and clutching onto the sheets. your own hands were in his hair, tugging at his strands. “so tight, baby. you’re so fucking tight and warm, so snug around my cock. you were made for me.” he huffs, licking along your jaw before sucking there.

you let out a pleased sound, wiggling your hips as he bottoms out, “move, please. wanna feel you, want you to fuck me.” one of your hands travel down to his back, lightly pressing your nails into his skin as he immediately follows your request. you can feel the drag of his cock inside you, and you can’t deny just how good he feels. “oh god, hyuck.” your nails press just a bit harder, not enough to cause alarm.

“so good, baby.” he praises you, his own breath is being swept right out of his lungs as he feels you clench around him, “you’re doing so good, feels so fucking good.” he lets out a groan, his hips moving at such a steady rhythm. and while you love it, you want more. you need more.

“more, faster.” you kiss his shoulder as he nuzzles his nose against your cheek, “please, go faster, hyuck.”

and he can’t seem to deny you, speeding up the thrust of his hips. you can feel his cock hitting right against your sweet spot, making you arch your back up and press your chest to his. you let out a whine of his name, telling him to keep right there. he quickens his pace again, this time with his cock pushing right against where you need him most. and it feels so fucking good, making you throw your head back against the pillow with your eyes shut. he admires you, seeing just how pretty you look losing yourself on his cock.

“such a good girl,” he hushes, hearing the small mewl you let out at the praise. he chuckles, sweat starting to form on his body as he keeps up the fast pace of his hips. you were so tight around him, he was going to start losing his mind soon. you were clenching around his dick so much, and he knows you don’t mean to but, fuck, it was driving him insane. “baby..”

your nails press into him harder as a response, “wh- what?”

hyuck licks his lips, “look at me.” he kisses you on the lips, “please?” when you slowly start to open your eyes, you immediately want to roll them back in your head out of pleasure. “there’s my pretty girl. always my good girl.”

you let out a strangled moan, “please, wanna cum.”

“already?” he starts to thrust harder into you, your heat tightening around his cock again. “fuck, so fucking greedy for my cock. you wanna cum all over me, hm? all over my cock? make a mess?”

you whine out, “please! oh god, please, hyuck. wanna cum on your cock.”

his dick twitches, but he’s not quite there yet, “can you wait? just a bit longer?”

you shake your head, “no, please..”

hyuck licks his lips as you squint your eyes shut again, tears starting to brim there. he takes sight of you, admiring what he sees. “just a bit.. longer, baby.”

you try as hard as you can to hold it, but you gasp out as hyuck presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing fast circles against the bud, “hyuck! fuck, i’m cumming, i’m gonna cum, oh fuck fuck fuck.” you thrash underneath him, feeling as your high takes over your body and you clench sporadically around him, making him slow his thrusts down just a bit.

you don’t seem to register he’s still thrusting into you before you his from being overstimulated, “you just couldn’t hold it, could you, baby?”

you shake your head, one of your hands clawing up his back as the other tugs desperately onto his hair. he loves seeing you like this, watching as your eyes open back up again with small tears in them. he licks his lips, leaning down to kiss you quickly before thrusting into you at his previous pace again as his thumb continues to rub your clit. you cry out, nails digging into him.

“o- oh fuck! hyuck please, please..” you weren’t sure what you were begging for, but you’ve never felt so damn good before.

“can you cum again then, princess? can my baby cum on my cock for the second time?” his words feel so dirty, but sound so good coming from him. “hm?” he waits for a response while he fucks you like he won’t get to for a long time.

“yes, fuck, yes. i can.” your mouth releases the prettiest sounds, going straight to his cock as it twitches inside of you. you can tell he’s close from the way his hips stutter against you, and his thumb presses harder into your clit. his thrusts were becoming desperate, making you whine. “wanna cum on your cock again, hyuck. wanna feel you cum inside me, fill me up.” you’re so sensitive, but you want nothing more than to make him cum.

“fuck,” he lets out a loud groan, “cum for me, then, pretty girl. let me fill this pretty pussy up with my cum. make you mine.”

one last thrust, and you’re coming undone around him for the second time. the way you claw at his back and practically shout his name out sets him off, feeling your tight walls grasp onto his cock. and it feels so good, so fucking good. his cum shoots inside of you, warm and full. you gasp out as hyuck bites down onto your shoulder with a groan, riding out both of your highs.

“my baby,” he kisses the spot he bit, soothing it with his tongue after. you smile at the gesture, kissing the spot behind his ear.

hyuck only pulls back after a few minutes of staying like that, watching as some of his cum falls out of you. he grins at you, making you playfully roll your eyes. he hurriedly gets a rag, making sure to clean you up well before tossing you one of his shirts while he places his underwear back on. he offers you a pair of panties with a raise of his eyebrows, and you gracefully accept it. you always kept some of your clothes here just in case, and you’re suddenly aware of how close that makes you and him.

he climbs in with you, placing a blanket over the two of you, “i really can’t get enough of you, i hope you know that.”

you smile at him, “i can’t get enough of you either.”

and you knew the both of you were telling the truth.

the air was crisp, you could feel it in your lungs. your eyes travel towards the male beside you and see the small smile on his face as he feels your gaze. your hands stay intertwined together, like you were a sweet couple who couldn’t take being apart. the two of you walk hand in hand, and there’s nothing to fear in that moment. because you had him, and he had you. you lick your lips after some time, and hyuck turns his head to look at you.

“good?” he asks with a soft tilt to his head.

you nod back, “yeah, i’m good. you?”

he smiles at you, “with you? always.”

he turns his head to the path in front of him, still continuing to walk with your hand tightly in his. the two of you were walking back to his place from a local coffee shop. it feels surreal being around him like this, and not feeling a pang of hurt lingering there or a tinge of annoyance. it feels good, though. and you really could get used to this side of your relationship. you assumed he thought the same way from the small smile that wouldn’t leave his face ever since he first saw you this morning. you smile to yourself at the thought, and you feel hyuck start to swing your hands in the air. you giggle a bit, and he’s quick to place a kiss on the back of your hand with an endearing smile.

when you finally make it to his apartment building, the both of you walk in and head towards the elevator. you could feel the both of your palms starting to slightly sweat, but neither of you make a move to let go. as the two of you hear the ping to his floor, you make way to his door. he reluctantly pulls his hand away with a shy look, scuffling around to find his keys in his pockets. he unlocks the door, before pressing his back against it and making way for you to enter. you smile at him and place a kiss on his cheek as you walk in, the familiar scent and feeling of his apartment enveloping you in a warm hug. you welcome it, looking around.

“it always smells nice in here,” you state as he closes the door and locks it. he nods as he takes his shoes off, and you follow right after him to take your own off. “it smells like you.”

hyuck walks towards you with a pretty grin, “yeah?” his arms wrap around your waist, tugging you against him. your body fits perfectly against him, you decide.

“yeah,” you breathe, looking into his honey brown eyes. he was dreams and honey. you smile in thought, and he raises an eyebrow.

“what’re you think about?” he can’t help himself from kissing your own cheek, returning your earlier gesture when you walked in.

you accept him with open arms, your hands tangling in his long hair, “we really grew.” you pause as he waits for you to continue. you frown slightly, “i used to actually hate you.”

he nods, “i know.”

you figured he knew. you stand silently as you look into his eyes. you feel as if you can see the entire universe in them, and you decide then that maybe you didn’t hate him back then.

“no,” you start, and he looks at you with a curious look, “i think i just wanted to believe i hated you. it was easier than admitting that you hurt me back then.” you lean into him further, and you can feel his thumbs rubbing your back in soothing circles. “we both had a lot of faults.”

“i had the most,” he snorts.

you shake your head, “quit that. it doesn’t matter right now, does it?”

he stares at you and shakes his head back, “definitely not.”

“if i’m honest,” you talk in almost a hushed whisper, “i believe you’re all i want, all i need. always have been.”

he rests his forehead against yours and glances slowly across your features, capturing you in his mind forever, “i only need you and only want you, too.”

you smile to yourself, before leaning in and finally kissing him on the lips. you can still taste the soft tinge of coffee on his lips, and you find comfort in it as he kisses you softly, slowly. there’s no rush in the way he kisses you. his hands burn into your skin as they travel beneath your shirt, needing to feel your skin on his. you realize then that you would do anything for the man in front of you. you would travel the ends of the earth, if it meant having him like this for the rest of your life. he was your solace at the end of it all, and you knew that now. there was no more denying him, no more denying how you felt or where the both of you stood. there were no more lines in your relationship, there were no more barriers. i was just...this. it was just you, and him. and you were more than okay with that.

when he pulls away from the kiss with biting your lip, you huff out a breath of air. donghyuck decides that you are the most beautiful human to grace the earth. he felt like he was floating in heaven right now, his head swimming and his heart soaring. he watches as your eyes flutter open, and he can feel the heat in your skin as he trails his hands along your back in a comforting manner. it was his way of showing he cared, and you knew this. you could feel the soft drag of his nails in your back, making you smile a bit from the ticklish feeling. he smiles back, adoring the way you look right now.

there were so many ways you could have left him. so many opportunities. but as you stare him in the eyes, you know you made the right choice this time. there was no more being unsure, this was right. you knew this was right. you don’t regret this one bit.

donghyuck looks at you for a bit longer, before uttering out his nexts words, “i love you.” you can see the stars in his eyes, and if you’re honest, it felt like love. it was you and him, against the world.

“i love you, too.”

he grins before pulling you back in for another long kiss. the words were music to his ears, and he wished to repeat them to you for as long as he could live. the world went quiet for the time being, not a single thing distracting either of you from one another. it was like everything was falling into place, the beats starting to make sense again. you sigh into the kiss, feeling at ease in the arms of the honey eyed boy in front of you.

he pulls back slowly, “don’t worry,” his eyes sparkle a bit, “i’m right here.”

and you were convinced that was all you needed for now.

so may you find in each other what you came here for. and trust that this is love because it is (love is trust). and tangled lives you may lead but into each other, never apart, till you can’t distinguish between being and being together.

a/n: please give this a lot of love! i worked really hard on this one, and it’s my longest fic i’ve written so far. i hope you all enjoy it! thank you so much for reading :)

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