#i'd be so intimidated by him but i'd try to talk to him every class to make friends and then he'd steal my homework answers and i'd let him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

noramoons · 2 years

Text

seasons (waiting on you).

pairing: yeonjun x reader, (eventual) taehyun x reader

genre: college au, angst, slight fluff at the end

rating: T/13+

word count: 16.5k (i am so sorry)

warnings: explicit language, one (1) mention of alcohol, descriptions of a breakup, depression and anxiety depictions, mentions of harmful behaviors and thoughts, just so many post-breakup emotions being described for way too long BUT angst with a happy ending :)

summary: when your high school sweetheart choi yeonjun is off to grad school, you aren’t too worried about how your relationship will last—but your favorite coworker, kang taehyun, is.

OR:

a study in the seasons of loving and losing choi yeonjun—and how you put yourself back together afterwards.

playlist: telepath - conan grey, let you break my heart again - laufey, back 2 u (A.M. 01:27) - nct 127, i don’t know you anymore - eric nam, drive - ashton irwin, seasons (waiting on you) - future islands

I. PROLOGUE.

Loving Yeonjun was like watching a meteor shower cross the sky. It was beautiful, and you considered yourself blessed to have been able to see it with your own eyes—but like everything else in life, it was inevitable that it had to end.

And it ended too soon.

You still remember the day he transferred to your high school—everyone had practically stared as he walked down the hallway, beaming politely at the people at he passed on his way to his first class. He was like a celebrity almost instantly, and not just because he was a transfer student—Choi Yeonjun was beautiful, and jaw-droppingly so, at that.

You ended up having two classes with him, to the mostly-pretend envy of your friends. They did all say that they would be far too nervous to even try to talk to someone like Choi Yeonjun, but you didn't feel that way. He was stunningly handsome, certainly—but he was still just a high schooler like you. You didn't feel intimidated by him in the same way that your friends clearly did.

So one day you offered to help him with Mrs. Jung's pre-calculus homework—she was a notoriously difficult math teacher, but this was the second year you'd had her. You knew what to expect with her by that point. You didn't, however, know what to expect with your offer towards Yeonjun—it was just a passing remark you made at the end of class that you would be more than happy to give him some pointers on how to pass her quizzes if he ever needed them. Nothing too serious.

But he'd looked up at you. Blinked. And then smiled, meeting your gaze with those soft bright eyes that practically made you melt right then and there in that classroom. "Thank you," he'd said, as genuine a thank you as you'd ever heard. "I'd love that. Could I ask you for another favor, actually?"

You weren't entirely sure what he was going to say next, but you nodded anyway, despite your gut telling you no.

"Can you tell me some good places to eat here? My family just moved—you know that, obviously, but I'm getting kind of tired of takeout every single night. So if you have any recommendations that, um...aren't chain restaurants, I'd appreciate it a lot." He had laughed slightly nervously after that.

Something fluttered within your chest. Oh. Choi Yeonjun, for all his good looks and charming attitude, was kind of awkward, too.

It just made you melt even more.

You did end up telling him the best local places to eat in your city, surprising yourself with your own bravery when you told him you wouldn't mind showing them to him yourself sometime—and he replied with that reassuring smile once again. "I'd love that, too," he'd said.

You'd exchanged numbers, but you didn't really think anything would come of it—it was always possible that Yeonjun had just been polite, after all. He surprised you once again, though, with a text that weekend asking to meet him at the breakfast bar you had recommended.

Just me? you'd asked.

Yeonjun had responded within minutes. Just you.

On Saturday, you stressed for nearly an hour over what to wear, trying on combination after combination of outfits. Everything you had was too old (there's a difference between vintage and gross). Too new (trying too hard, much?). Too short (what will he think of you?). Not short enough (did you time-travel in from the 1800s?). But eventually, you settled on something that was just slightly above casual wear and made your way to the restaurant to be ten minutes early.

Yeonjun was there before you, giving you a small wave when you pushed open the door to the restaurant. You'd thought someone as cool in appearance like him wouldn't be the kind of person to get somewhere super early, even earlier than you—bur Choi Yeonjun seemed to be the kind of person who just kept surprising you. His outward appearance that made nearly everyone you knew practically fall at his feet clearly wasn't all there was to him.

You learned quite a bit more about Yeonjun that day, and you'd continue to learn more when he asked you to meet him for lunch again later that week. He wanted a dog, but the apartment he was living in with his family wouldn't allow it. He listened to just about every kind of music you'd ever heard. He was a good, genuine kind of listener, hanging on your every word whenever it was your turn to speak. It was a little detail, but you would've been lying if you said it hadn't made your heart beat faster every time you noticed it.

It wasn't until the third outing that you finally gathered up the courage to ask him what had been on your mind since that very first invitation. "Yeonjun?" you asked, almost stuttering on his name as it passed your lips. Get it together.

He looked up from his bowl of noodles. "Mmm-hmm?"

"Is this, um...is this a date?"

He only hesitated for an instant. "Is that okay? I mean," he had started, trying to hold your gaze, "would you want it to be?"

You nodded, maybe too quickly. "I would."

The grin that instantly tugged the corners of his lips immediately melted any insecurities you'd had away. That was always what being around Yeonjun was like—he just set you at ease.

You felt that same way a month later, when you'd agreed to meet him at an art museum downtown that you'd mentioned wanting to go to. He'd led you through the halls, warm hand in yours, gazing at the different paintings hung on the walls together—different expressions of love and hate and sorrow and every expression that man could expel into a paintbrush.

Well—you had been staring at the medley of colors and brush strokes on the painting directly in front of you. Yeonjun, unbeknownst to you, hadn't taken his eyes off you since you'd walked into this particular room. "I have something to tell you," he'd said. "I...I don't like beating around the bush with these kinds of things."

You turned to face him at the sudden declaration. Your heart was pounding against your chest loud enough that you wondered if Yeonjun could hear it, but you swallowed down your nervousness and nodded.

He took your silent reply as confirmation to keep going. "I like you," he said, never looking away from your eyes for an instant. "I want to keep going out with you, if that's something you want."

You remember thinking that Yeonjun had to have been able to hear how loud your heart was from inside your chest—you'd never felt that kind of nervous excitement before in your life. Still, you managed to nod again, smiling softly at his words. "I'd really like that too, Yeonjun. Because I like you too."

He'd beamed at you, looking at you like you were the only thing in the room, as if you were a piece of art to be marveled at despite the awe-inspiring works surrounding both of you—and you returned that grin as much as you could.

And now you're here, years away from that day where you and Yeonjun had both confessed. It's like everything has fallen into place just like it was meant to.

It's the longest relationship you've ever been in, not to mention the first long-term relationship you've ever had, and you've been fascinated by the way it has evolved. Seeing Yeonjun when you walk into a room doesn't fill you with nervous excitement anymore; rather, it calms you down, simply grounding you with his presence. You don't feel nervous about bringing your concerns to him, worried about what he might think about you when you overanalyze the conversation afterwards—instead, you take comfort in the fact that he brings his concerns to you, too. He loves you. And you love him.

You'd spent a year apart when he had graduated high school before you, but you'd promised with teary eyes as you helped him move into his college dormitory that you'd keep this going if that was what he wanted. "Don't, um...don't forget about me while you're having fun at college," you'd quipped in the parking lot right before you left. It was a joke (mostly), but Yeonjun had heard the worry in your voice. He'd smiled at you then, just like he had all those years ago.

"Of course," he'd said, holding you tightly to his chest in an attempt to not betray any of his own worries about the next year. "You'll have to try a little harder to get rid of me, I hope you know."

You did know—there was never any doubt in your mind that he loved you just as much as you loved him. Yeonjun had always kept his promises, and that year apart didn't change a thing. He made sure the two of you FaceTimed at least once a week, even during his exam seasons, and both of you always sent a goodnight, i love you text every day, even if it was the only thing you said to each other that day. You'd surprise him occasionally, making a trip up to his university to visit and spoil him all weekend, taking him wherever he wanted to eat, and he'd do the same to you on weekends he could come home.

You had been so proud of both of you for keeping that relationship alive for the year you were apart, and Yeonjun was overjoyed when you told him you'd gotten into the university he was currently attending. It wasn't long before you were side-by-side every day once again, just like you'd been in high school, and you were still just as in love as you were back then.

Yeonjun is remarkably smart—but you knew that already, knew it even when you offered to help him with pre-calculus back in high school. That's why it doesn't surprise you when he's able to graduate college early, on top of getting multiple grad school offers for his Master's degree. He takes you with him to tour the schools he's looking at, even though he knows you won't be there for a while—you're as much a part of his decision-making-process as he is. You'd waited for him in that interval before you'd gone to college—you can wait for him here, too.

Being with Yeonjun was like a dream, all of it.

You suppose you had to wake up eventually.

II. FALL

It surprises you when those seeds of doubt begin to sow themselves in your mind. It's been three months since Yeonjun has left for grad school across the country, but you can count the number of times he's called to check on you on both hands. You know you aren't the same lovesick teenagers you were when he had gone off for college and left you for a year in high school, but you had thought that it wouldn't be that different.

But a good relationship is nothing without communication—you and Yeonjun haven't made it work this long without reminding each other occasionally to keep in touch. So you send him a quick text.

< everything going okay? miss u <33

You don't have time to wait around for his reply, though—your shift at the university library starts in just under thirty minutes, so you decide you'd better go ahead and head that way.

Your coworkers are all lounging against the front desk when you clock in, clipping your nametag underneath your collar. "What's so funny?" you ask, tilting your head at their sudden giggling.

Taehyun points towards the study corrals. "Kai's drooling."

"I am not," Kai interrupts, frowning. "I..."

He trails off as a girl walks out of one of the study corrals, pulling her headphones out of her tote bag before placing them delicately over her ears, smiling softly as her music starts before she heads for the doors.

You share a knowing glance with Taehyun, who smirks at you. He's been a close comfort as you've started university—you feel blessed to get along with all your coworkers, but Taehyun is someone you've meshed with practically right from the start. Your majors are in the same department, so you've had quite a bit of overlap with your required classes—you and Taehyun have already spent many a day off together back in the library, comparing notes and cramming for quizzes together. He's a much better note-taker than you, which is slightly aggravating, but your memory is better than his, so you usually remember class material better than he does. It's an unusual equivalent exchange between the two of you, but you're both pleased with how well it's worked so far. Not to mention how easy he is to spend time with—you swear your study sessions with Taehyun almost always feel like minutes instead of hours. It reminds you, sometimes, of how your first few dates with Yeonjun had gone (this, of course, is a thought you squash the moment it appears).

"Oh, my God," Kai says, practically groaning even as you and Taehyun giggle at him. "She's so cute. What am I going to do?"

Taehyun turns to you, smirking. "What do you think? Think he's got a chance?"

You raise both your hands in mock self-defense. "Hey, this is all between Kai and that girl. Besides, I'd never date a coworker. Just gets too messy, you know?"

Beomgyu pokes his head out from organizing the storage closet behind you. "Aren't you literally dating Yeonjun?"

You scoff. "I'll have you know I was dating Yeonjun long before he worked here. Or before I worked here, either." Yeonjun had only worked at the university library his first year, but he'd gotten along really well with Soobin, one of the managers, and putting in a good word for you certainly didn't hurt when you had told him you were looking for a job at the start of the school year.

Beomgyu makes a face. "Well. Shady application or not—you're reshelving the architecture textbooks upstairs since you're almost late."

You aren't late, actually—you've clocked in five minutes early, but you don't quite have the energy for getting into a mostly-pretend argument with Beomgyu today. So you offer him a wink before grabbing a handful of architecture textbooks from the desk and heading upstairs to the art section.

You pass several couples studying together on your way up to the third floor. Only a few are really studying, though—most have notebooks and laptops spread out, sure, but just about every other couple on a study date of their own is putting much more emphasis on the date part, rather than the study part.

Not that you blame them at all—you and Yeonjun used to do the same thing. You remember plenty of study sessions where you'd gaze up from your computer to find Yeonjun taking a silly candid photo of you before you'd scoff, playfully begging him to delete it (which he would never do—you look too cute so focused like that, he'd say). But you always saw them later when he made them the lockscreen on his phone.

You wonder what his lockscreen is now, you think absentmindedly as you haul several books onto one shelf. It's been months since you saw him or his phone. At that thought, you glance down at your own phone tucked into your jeans pocket to see if he's sent you any kind of response to your message earlier—but your notification screen is just as empty as it was the last time you checked.

Those seeds of worry dig themselves deeper.

But you tell yourself again not to worry. There's no point—you and Yeonjun have been through plenty together. You know you have no idea how busy and stressful graduate school must be, but you're sure you'll hear all about it the next time you see Yeonjun.

It's the same thing you tell yourself when you get in your car to go back to your apartment once your shift ends, checking your phone once again to see an empty screen.

And again tomorrow morning, when your notification screen is still blank (aside from the outdated memes Soobin is spamming your work groupchat with) on your way to class.

There's no doubt about it now. Those seeds are planted. You're worried.

But, as it turns out, only for a few hours—because you do finally, finally receive a reply from Yeonjun halfway through your shift at the library, your heart nearly pounding out of your chest in a way it hasn't in years when you finally see his name pop up at the top of your notifications.

> hey!

> can you talk soon?

You look around the library. It's a Friday night—hardly anyone on campus is studying, but Soobin has still scheduled you, Taehyun, and Kai for tonight—you're practically over-staffed, so you're sure he won't mind if you step outside for a quick moment.

You make your way towards the chemistry section, where Soobin is currently organizing some kind of midterms display. "Hi," you say, sweetly.

He turns his head to face you, suspicion tugging at the corners of his eyes. "Hi," he repeats, slowly. "What's up?"

"Mind if I step outside really quick? I have to make a call."

Soobin narrows his eyes, and you know he's onto you. But he still gestures towards the door with his head before tapping on his wristwatch. "Just make it quick, alright?"

You nod way too quickly. "You got it," you say, beaming at him before practically dashing for the doors, pulling up Yeonjun's contact information on your phone and calling him immediately.

He picks up on the third ring. "Hey," he starts.

"Hi," you respond, trying not to sound too terribly excited to hear his voice. "How's school going?"

He hums. "It's alright, I guess. You?" God, he sounds tired—you'll have to come up with something really nice to surprise him with the next time you see him. You're not sure what his favorite restaurants are in his new city, but you can ask around with his friends—you're sure he has plenty already. He's always been that way—that charm of his had certainly worked on you too, after all.

So you make a similar hum of agreement. "It's okay so far. I really miss you, Jjun."

There's a strange pause after those words—as if you and Yeonjun had a script for your conversations, and he had lost his. You had fully expected him to return the sentiment, just like he always had before. Instead, you hear him take a breath. "Do you have time to talk, Y/N?"

The seeds of worry are back, digging themselves deeper and insisting on growing roots within your head. "Um...sure," you manage to get out, trying to ignore the sudden panic clawing at the bottom of your stomach.

He sighs, and there's a long space of time before he continues. "...I really wish I could see you. You deserve this in person at least, you know? But...fuck, there's no easy way to do it, I guess. I—I don't think we should do this anymore. Us, I mean—I think we need to be done."

You aren't sure if you heard him right. There's no, no way your Yeonjun just said...that. "...What?" you say, laughing nervously. "I'm sorry—are you saying we need a break?"

Yeonjun clears his throat. "No," he says. "Not a break. I don't think that would be fair to either of us. I think we need to be done."

Blindsided doesn't even begin to cover how you feel. You feel like Yeonjun has just dumped a bucket of ice water over your head through the phone. "Yeonjun—you're breaking up with me?"

He takes a moment to reply. "Yeah, Y/N. I am. And I'm so, so sorry, I—"

"Over the phone?" you sputter, indignant tears blooming at the corners of your eyes. "You're ending a four and a half year relationship...over a phone call?"

You can't see him, but you know the wince he's making, judging by the sound of the sigh that leaves his mouth. "I told you, I would've had to fly out to come see you—and I figured you probably wouldn't have let me stay the rest of the weekend at your place afterwards," he says, laughing awkwardly. "I'm too broke as it is these days anyway."

You just can't believe what you're hearing. This is a nightmare. It has to be. "So...what?" you choke out, brushing back tears threatening to fall from the corners of your eyes. "Did I...do something?"

"Oh, God, no," Yeonjun says hurriedly, and the concern in his voice is genuine. You know what that sounds like, at least. "Honestly. You didn't do anything, Y/N—it's my fault. I let this relationship grow static, and I let myself fall into a routine—and I just sort of stopped feeling the way I had before. I should have done this before, but I was too much of a coward, and I'm so, so sorry—I know it's a lot to ask of you, but I hope you can forgive me. Maybe we can be friends, one day."

A long time passes before you answer. "One day," you repeat. "But not now."

He lets out a short laugh. "I didn't think you'd want to be friends now."

"I...fuck, Yeonjun," you say, nervous and shocked laughter escaping your throat. "I don't want this to be over at all. There's...there's no way this just came out of nowhere."

He hums apprehensively. "I don't know what else I can say. It's the truth—I just let myself become bored with the relationship, and that's my fault. I should have tried harder a long time ago, and for that, I...I really am sorry."

"I—I guess I just don't see why it isn't too late to try now," you stammer. "Why?"

"...Y/N, I don't want to try now, anymore," he whispers, and it's only then that you really get what he's been trying to tell you all along. He's done with you—whatever he felt for you all those years ago when you whispered your mutual confessions in that quiet art gallery, is gone.

Yeonjun does not love you anymore. How you feel about him doesn't matter.

It takes several uncomfortable beats of silence before you speak again. "Okay," you say, voice shaking. "Okay. I get it. G...goodbye, Yeonjun."

He lets out a shaky sigh of his own. "Goodbye, Y/N. I'm so—"

But you hang up before he can say anything else. You don't want to hear another word from him now. You're trembling as you end the call, sliding your phone back into your back pocket. You're going home—there's no fucking way you can make it through the rest of your shift after this. You walk back inside as calmly as you can, sliding your nametag off your collar and placing it on the desk.

Taehyun hasn't quite turned around to see you when you do so. "Oh, Y/N, you won't believe what Kai just sent—huh?" He frowns, finally noticing your nametag on the front counter.

"Can you, um...can you tell Soobin when he gets back that I'm going home? I'll come early on Saturday, I'll do whatever he needs me to do to make up for this time, but I really need to go home." You absolutely cannot, under any circumstance, let them see you like this—especially not Taehyun, your favorite coworker. You don't think he'd ever let you hear the end of it.

His eyebrows furrow in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you say, way, way too quickly to be nothing. "I'm sick. I...I-I'll see you guys on Saturday, okay?" You turn around and walk towards the library doors as fast as you can, practically making a beeline for the doors—but you aren't fast enough to not hear the familiar sound of Taehyun unclipping his own nametag and slamming it on the desk behind you.

"Kai, tell Soobin I'm feeling sick, too. I'll call Beomgyu to come cover for me for the rest of this shift."

"You...what?" Kai practically splutters, leaning over the front counter to call after the both of you. "What the hell's wrong with you two?"

You have to make it to the car. You can have the breakdown you so desperately need in there, but you are not going to sob your eyes out right outside the university library.

Taehyun, however, apparently isn't going to let you do either. "Y/N," he says behind you once the two of you are outside, grabbing hold of your bicep. "What's going on? What's wrong? Please—just talk to me."

You shake your head. "Taehyun, please, I just need to go home. I'm going to have a fucking meltdown right on the street if you don't at least let me get to my car," you sputter, voice trembling as you try to keep the tears at bay.

But Taehyun shakes his head too. "No. We can go in my car. You said you parked in the guest lot today because you were almost late. Remember?"

You do remember—and at this point, you don't care enough to argue with him. So you nod in agreement, following him into the lot in a walk that has to be the longest minute and a half of your life. Once you're in Taehyun's car, though, shutting the passenger door behind you, you can't fight the tears prickling at your eyes anymore.

"Hey—hey, talk to me, Y/N. Please. What's going on?"

You shake your head, burying your head in your hands to try to muffle your sobs. "He broke up with me, Tae," you manage to choke out, even though the verbal confirmation of what just happened just makes you cry harder.

"He—what? The fuck? Yeonjun?"

"Who else?" you snap back, voice shaking. "He said we've...grown apart since he moved away. That he doesn't love me anymore. But I still love him, Taehyun," you sniff, tears tracking down your face and slipping into your open mouth in what must be an absolute mess to behold. "What am I supposed to do?"

If Taehyun thinks you look a mess, though, he doesn't tell you. "Fuck...Y/N, I'm so, so sorry," he starts, gently. "I know that doesn't mean anything—but I really am."

You shake your head. "No. It does mean something."

He gestures towards his backseat. "If you want to beat up my backseats, go for it. I've done that after a few shitty shifts before—it can be pretty cathartic."

But you just shake your head again, sniffling. "I just want to go home, Taehyun. Please."

He just nods, turning the keys in the ignition before reaching into the center console in his car to grab an envelope of tissues, taking several and handing them to you. "In case you need these."

You sniff again. "Thank you," you say, even though you know you're nowhere near done crying about this.

You don't live too far from the university, so Taehyun's pulling into the parking lot of your apartment building before you know it. Your apartment is only on the second floor, and there's a set of stairs outside, so Taehyun is able to park almost right below your apartment. He turns to face you again. "This is you, right?"

You nod. "Yes. Thank you, Tae."

He glances for a moment at your door before looking back at you, worry etched on his features. "You want some time to yourself? I can come back tomorrow if you want me to check on you."

Normally, you think, you'd say yes. You'd want to go finish crying by yourself and getting it all out of your system right before you force yourself to fall asleep—but you think about your apartment. You think about the hoodies in your closet, the pictures adorning your shelves, the stuffed animals on your bed—Yeonjun is everywhere in your apartment. You can't face these remainders of him alone.

So you shake your head. "No, I...um, can you come inside, please? You don't have to stay, I just don't know if I can—"

But Taehyun doesn't let you finish, turning off the car's ignition and opening his door, immediately walking around to open yours. Normally, you'd make some quip here about chivalry not being dead, but you can't find the energy within yourself to make anything of the sort.

You make your way up the stairs before unlocking your door and making your way to your bedroom, trying to avoid the onslaught of photos of you and Yeonjun in the living room before collapsing onto your bed, covering your face in your pillows and sobbing the way you wanted to earlier. You hardly even notice Taehyun beside you, rubbing small circles on your back while you soak the pillowcase below you, chest heaving with hiccups in between sobs.

You don't turn around to face him until you feel like you've emptied every tear in your eyes, now red and puffy as you catch your breath.

Taehyun frowns at the state of you, finally moving his hand away from the small of your back. "Where are your washcloths?" he asks.

What? "Um...o-on the rack beside the shower," you say, gesturing towards the bathroom in the hallway.

You're perplexed when he leaves, even more so when you hear the sound of the sink running, but he's back in an instant with a wet cloth, sitting back down beside you on your bed. He hesitates for an instant. "For your cheeks," he says, tapping his own. "It'll feel better."

Oh. "Thanks," you say, somewhat lamely, before taking the washcloth from his hands. It's warm, you realize, and he's right—it does feel nice on your tear-stained cheeks, especially under your now-puffy eyes—a gentle contrast to the sobs that had racked your entire body minutes ago.

You set the washcloth down, looking back up at Taehyun, who offers you a reassuring smile—one you've seen plenty of times at the library, when one of you has messed up on organizing a section and had to endure a lecture from Soobin. It's not a bad expression to be on the receiving end of. "Come here," he says, opening his arms, and you let him pull you into his chest without a second thought. It's the first time you've hugged Taehyun, you think absentmindedly—but you suppose that doesn't matter. You're grateful to have him here with you now—you can't imagine how much worse you'd feel alone in your room now.

He lets you hold onto him for as long as you need, only pulling away when you do. "Did you eat before work?" he asks softly.

You shake your head. You'd planned on making something from your pantry after your shift, but the thought of getting up and being productive right now feels like a Herculean task.

Taehyun must be able to see the exhaustion on your face, because he just nods. "That's okay," he says. "I'll order in."

And he does. You spend the rest of the evening eating takeout from the Thai place down the street on your bed with Taehyun, who stays beside you and makes sure you have a nearly-full glass on your nightstand at all times, to make up for how you'd practically dehydrated yourself sobbing. And you do cry again in the middle of eating dinner, but Taehyun doesn't flinch—he just nestles you in his sturdy arms again until you don't have any tears left to cry.

He does make a comment about leaving if you'd prefer sometime past midnight, but one look from you causes the rest of the sentence to die on his tongue, and he doesn't say another word about it.

You wake up in the morning just before noon, and you feel only a single instant pang of panic before you see Taehyun's outstretched limbs on the couch in the living room, chest rising and falling evenly in sleep. You aren't sure when he got up to let you sleep on your own—you hardly even remember falling asleep, but the sight of him causes your heartbeat to even back out for a moment.

That doesn't last long, though—it's only an instant before your barely-awake mind remembers what had caused him to spend the night in the first place, and you immediately feel that now-familiar twinge of sorrow in your chest.

And it doesn't go away—no, that feeling hangs heavy in your chest. You know, then and there, that it's going to be a weight you'll carry around for a long time.

III. WINTER.

You're right on all accounts.

You never flat out tell the rest of your coworkers what happened between you and Yeonjun, but they must be able to read between the lines—all of them tiptoe around you for weeks. Even Soobin never teases you at work anymore, which you almost miss. You aren't a piece of glass, after all—but with the way that everyone treats you at work, you'd think you were.

But maybe there's some truth to their treatment. Not a day goes by that you don't think about Yeonjun's words—that he'd basically just gotten bored with you. You know he'd said you hadn't done anything, but you had to have done something for that to occur, right? It didn't make any sense otherwise.

You are proud of yourself when your track record for "crying over Yeonjun" goes from every day to once a week, but that doesn't mean that it doesn't still hurt. Just like the love you'd known from him had been something beautiful like you'd never experienced, you've never known anything as painful as this.

So much of your identity before had been being Yeonjun's partner. For Christ's sake, he was the whole reason you'd been able to get this job at the library in the first place—and now you have to distance yourself from that. You have to. You don't have another choice.

At one point, Beomgyu does suggest going out for drinks after work with Soobin. "Everyone's going," he adds gently, as if that will somehow be the thing to convince you to pull yourself out of your mental wallowing. "Won't be as fun without you, though."

You force a smile across your lips. You do still remember how to do that, right? Smile? "I, um...I'll have to catch you guys next time. I'm busy that night."

Beomgyu's eyes narrow. "I haven't told you what day we're going out yet, Y/N."

You wince. "Beomgyu, I—I'm sorry. I really appreciate you trying, but I just don't think I'm there yet. I'm sorry."

He rolls his eyes a little at that. "I think this is exactly what you need right now, personally. We'll make sure you have fun, I promise. So much fun that you won't even think about old what's-his-name the entire night."

You know good and well that Beomgyu remembers Yeonjun's name, and that he's practically putting on a show to convince you to go get drunk with him and Soobin and God knows who else—but you can't. Not yet. So you turn him down again, and this time he finally relents, taking the hint and leaving to sort through the returned books bin. Going out and getting drunk enough to forget Yeonjun probably is what you need right now—but you know you aren't there yet (Even admitting the 'yet'—the knowledge that you eventually will be at that point, whether you like it or not—is painful). Wanting to forget Yeonjun is accepting that what the two of you had is over, and truth be told, you aren't ready to do that. You're fully in denial—and you know it.

But that doesn't mean you're in the right state of mind to do anything about it. For God's sake, you haven't even been able to go through the photo album of you and Yeonjun on your phone yet and delete a single photo. The scraps of sanity that still call out to you occasionally within your mind tell you that you need to delete those photos of the two of you, that seeing them later will just make you feel worse—but you can't. Any act of cementing the end of the relationship is still just nothing short of unthinkable to you.

You're very much a prisoner of your own mind for the rest of the semester, whether or not you're willing to admit it, as you continue replaying Yeonjun's last words to you in your head, over and over. And over. And over. And over again. It's unhealthy—you know that. But you don't stop. You can't stop thinking about what you should have done differently to prevent this. Sure, he'd said you hadn't done anything, but that must have been a polite lie. Something must have happened. Had you been overbearing? Annoying? Had you changed, somehow? Had he?

Your friends and coworkers all tread lightly around you for the first month or so after the breakup, checking on you occasionally and reminding you that everything will be alright eventually (a lie, you know). Beomgyu gives you the notes from your morning class whenever you skip. Kai covers for you when you call out of work. Soobin looks the other way when you take fifteen minute bathroom breaks (which usually end up with you crying in the stall) and doesn't say a word when you come back, eyes puffier than before.

But that's exhausting to keep up with—you know that. Everyone becomes less forgiving around the middle of the semester—you still haven't gotten over that guy? What's wrong with you? You're still missing class and falling behind on assignments? Why can't you get a grip? No one says this out loud to you, of course, but you can pick up on the subtext—the implications between a shared glance between Beomgyu and Kai at work when you're almost late, between your friends when you tell them you have to finish an essay that was due yesterday—looks that pierce like a dagger to your stomach. Everyone is sick and tired of you.

Well—almost everyone. Kang Taehyun is a different story altogether.

You fully expected him to behave like everyone else—why wouldn't he? The two of you were friends, and good friends, at that, before your life as you'd known it had imploded in on itself, but you wouldn't have considered him to be a best friend by any means. Maybe you had missed some kind of memo, though—because if the way he's treated you since Yeonjun broke up with you is any indicator, his feelings towards your friendship are not at all what you'd thought they were.

Not a day goes by that you don't eat at least two meals a day, and that's because Taehyun is checking on you daily to make sure you've eaten. More than once, he's driven over to your house with food from his pantry to ensure there is something in your apartment to eat. He helps you stay on top of your schoolwork, too—hell, the only reason you even remember to do that essay at all is because Taehyun reminds you. And yet, these reminders never feel like a scolding, or like he's judging or chastising you—rather, it just feels like he's looking out for you. He's the only person looking out for you, you think—maybe even more so than yourself.

Which is why it surprises you, one cold, melancholy November evening as the two of you walk home from class, when Taehyun suggests talking to Yeonjun again.

Your eyes widen. "What?"

Taehyun nods, shifting his shoulders as he adjusts his backpack. "Sure. I...I think it would be good for you to get more closure from the whole thing. That's what's keeping you so upset, isn't it? That you don't really get why he did it?"

You suppose there's an element of truth to that. You certainly don't understand Yeonjun's actions—but the truth of the matter is that you aren't ready to let him go. You weren't three months ago when he called you, and you still aren't now. The ache in your chest that you've felt for so long hasn't subsided in the least—like a knife that only digs deeper every time you remember it's there.

But you nod anyway. "Yeah, I...I guess that's part of it. But—I can't just text him, Taehyun. What the hell am I supposed to say? 'Hi Yeonjun! Miss you, hope you haven't been feeling the same soul-crushing loneliness that I have for the past three months?'"

Taehyun winces at that before turning to face forward again, gazing at the sidewalk ahead of you with a sigh. "Maybe not quite like that. But...I don't know. He said he wanted to be friends, right? I don't see why you couldn't at least try."

But you don't want to be friends with Yeonjun—that's been the problem. Not just friends. You want to let yourself love him again, to feel that kind of tenderness and contentment and perfect warmth like you've never felt from another person before.

But that clearly is no longer an option on the table for you. What Taehyun is suggesting, however, might be. Maybe he's right. Something would be better than nothing with Yeonjun. Wouldn't it?

This conversation is how you find yourself later that night with your phone on your bed in front of you, fingers shaking slightly over the keypad from the nervous weight you feel at the bottom of your stomach. You've already typed out the entire message. You should just send it.

< hey, did you mean what you said about being friends?

God, why are you so nervous? It's not like you don't know the man—for Christ's sake, you spent over four years of your life convinced that you knew just about everything there was to know about Yeonjun. You knew about his favorite flowers, the piercings he wanted to get, how comically tremendous his appetite could sometimes be and how he'd always compliment your cooking, regardless of how you felt about it—but maybe none of that had mattered. You hadn't known that he'd felt bored with the relationship. You'd let that knowledge slip past you, somehow.

You press send on the message before you can talk yourself out of it, turning your phone over and stepping into the bathroom to take a shower, hoping you can think about something, anything else to hide the bubbles of anxiety floating upwards into your chest at the thought that Yeonjun may have responded already.

You practically leap out of the shower when you're finished, hair still dripping beads of water down your back as you wrap a towel around yourself, making your way back into your bedroom and grabbing for your phone.

Your eyes widen.

> yeah, i did.

> would you be okay with that?

The anxiety within your chest dissipates like hot water under the sun, if only for a moment. Your Yeonjun, and the effect he still has on you.

< yeah, i would.

His reply comes only a few minutes later.

> okay. cool :)

> i actually thought about sending this to you the other day. reminded me of you

[link]

Attached is a link to a YouTube video—a piano rendition of a song you'd listened to all the time (and probably forced Yeonjun to listen to in the process) when you'd first begun dating. It sounds beautiful on piano, the melody a bright cascade of hopeful and energetic sounding chords, and you feel your chest tighten with warmth as the video keeps playing.

It had made him think of you.

The warmth you'd felt in your chest before suddenly shifts to a suffocating cold. This is probably a bad idea. Yeonjun saying he wants to be friends probably means just that—that he wants to be friends. Nothing else. You, of course, don't feel that way at all, if the way your heart had soared when you saw his message is any indicator. You're just going to get attached again to someone you know doesn't feel the same way about you. You're only setting yourself up for more heartbreak—part of you knows that.

But you don't stop yourself from playing the video again, butterflies rushing through your stomach.

~~~

The weeks leading up to winter break are infinitely better than the beginning of the semester. You're comfortably caught up and staying on top of all your assignments. When Soobin assigns you more hours at the library, you don't utter a word of protest. One of your professors even comments on how much better you've done on this last essay than your first of the semester.

Taehyun seems pleased to see you in better spirits too. He still checks on you just about every day, but there seems to be less urgency in his messages. He's not as concerned as he was a few weeks ago, and you almost feel a twinge of...something at that thought, not quite regret but not quite disappointment, either—but you brush it away just as quickly.

Thoughts like those are easy to push away now that you're speaking to Yeonjun again.

If it was one of your other friends in your situation, you think, you'd probably be concerned with how fast they turned around on their ex-boyfriend, going from being completely, utterly heartbroken to gushing over a cute TikTok he'd sent—but you ignore those thoughts when they come, too. Maybe you are making a bad decision by trying to be friends with Yeonjun, but you can't find it in yourself to care enough to stop. This momentary happiness is worlds away from the unbearable heartbreak you'd felt before, even if it is likely temporary. Besides, there haven't been any repercussions of this choice yet, anyway.

Yet being the key word.

A few days before fall break, Soobin approaches you, Taehyun, and Kai in the middle of your shared shift, the three of you definitely doing the work he'd assigned to you and definitely not talking behind the counter about a movie you're making plans to go see after your shifts end.

Soobin clears his throat, and the three of you jump, turning to face him. He lets out a sigh. "Are all three of you going home for break?"

You all shake your heads no.

He perks up a bit at that. "Oh. Okay. Good! The library isn't going to be open all week, but we're still doing limited hours. Would any of you be open to working over the break? It'll be time-and-a-half pay."

Kai suddenly grabs for his phone in his back pocket, even though you don't think you heard it buzz. "Huh—look at that. My mom just texted and said she actually does want me to come home for the break now. Sorry!"

Soobin makes an exasperated frown, but he doesn't say anything else to Kai, turning to you instead. "Y/N?"

You shrug. "Sure, I can work. I'll be here anyway."

Taehyun suddenly shifts, standing up a little taller beside you. "Me too. I don't mind."

Soobin nods. "Okay, great. Thanks, you guys. I'll be here the first day, but the other four days it'll be just you two here. So..." he takes in a slow breath. "Don't do anything stupid. Okay?"

You can practically feel Taehyun fighting back a grin beside you out of the corner of your eye, and you have to bite your tongue to keep a laugh of your own from escaping you at Soobin's remark. "Okay, boss," you say, bringing a hand to your forehead in an overly enthusiastic salute. "We won't."

Taehyun and Kai both snort at your words, but Soobin just crosses his arms. "I mean it. Don't do anything I wouldn't do, okay? Or...anything I wouldn't let either of you do. You know what I mean." He narrows his eyes.

But you just laugh. "I promise, Soobin. We'll be fine. It's just limited hours, like you said, right? And it'll be over the break. We'll probably be the only ones in the library the whole week. What could go wrong?"

His frown only deepens at that. "...I don't even think I want to imagine that," he says before walking away, and the three of you only let out giggles once he's out of earshot. Truthfully, as much as you enjoy teasing Soobin with your other coworkers, you really don't think working over the break will be bad at all.

And in truth, it isn't the working part that ends up being the problem. It's what happens when you're at work.

To absolutely no one's surprise, the library is completely, utterly dead over the break. You can count on both hands the number of people that walk in for the first three days as you and Taehyun stand behind the counter, chatting quietly until you run out of things to talk about. By noon on Thursday, the two of you are the only people in the library, scrolling on your phones aimlessly with your shoes propped up against the help desk as the soft scratch of classical music plays over the speakers above you.

You smile when you see you've gotten a message from Yeonjun, opening your messages to see what he's sent now. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Taehyun giving you a knowing smirk in response to the grin tugging at the corners of your mouth—but you can't hide it. You wouldn't dare, you think.

It's a video of Yeonjun talking, telling you about a baby that kept waving to him on the plane back from his university. His fall break is the same week as yours, so he's going home today to spend the rest of the weekend with his family.

You take a quick response video, teasing him about his and the baby's apparent shared brain cells before going back to your mindless scrolling.

Or—you try to, at least. The moment your Instagram feed refreshes, you find yourself staring, unblinking at the first post on your page.

It's from Yeonjun's account. It's a picture of him at the airport. And he isn't alone. Standing beside him, arms wrapped around his middle with his around their neck, eyes closed and lips turned upward in a practically radiant smile, is a girl. She looks like she's been caught off guard by Yeonjun, but she's not disappointed about it by any means, if the candid joy radiating from her expression is anything to go by. You glance down at his caption.

thankful for you.

There's only one comment so far, which you're assuming is from her.

SO happy to spend this week with u <3

He might as well have put up a neon sign, you think. You know you can't know for sure, but you almost feel like this was directed at you—the caption, at the very least. Yeonjun has a girlfriend. He's moved on from you, in every sense of the phrase.

Taehyun must have noticed your suddenly expressionless face, because you see him frown across from you out of the corner of your eye. "Everything alright over there?"

You extend your arm towards him, showing him your phone screen wordlessly. His eyes widen. "Is that...no fucking way. He has a girlfriend?"

You nod, that all-too-familiar lump in your throat making its presence known once again. "Yeah," you reply, avoiding his stunned gaze. "I guess so."

Taehyun doesn't look away from you, even after you draw your arm back into your lap. "Y/N," he starts, quietly. Speaking to you the way you'd speak to a wounded animal—gently, but as if you could practically explode at any moment. It almost makes you feel worse. "Are you..." he stops, trailing off before he can even finish the thought before shaking his head. "Do you want to take a break for a minute?" He gestures with his head towards the punch clock on the wall behind the two of you.

But you shake your head. "No, I...I don't think so," you say. As strange as it seems, you don't feel nearly as upset as you did when Yeonjun had called to break up with you. Seeing that he's already moved on feels like ripping a metaphorical band-aid off. In a way, you sort of needed to see that he's moved on—that your hopes that the two of you could get back together, somehow, were foolish. Maybe this neon sign of an Instagram post is exactly what you needed.

Taehyun, however, doesn't seem entirely convinced, frown only deepening at your words. "Are you sure? We can get out of here, you know. It's just us in here right now."

You shake your head again. "No. We've still got nearly another hour—I don't think Soobin would be very happy if he found out we closed the library early just because I flipped out over Yeonjun again," you say, laughing weakly.

He snaps his fingers at you. "So you admit it! You are flipping out!"

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms across your chest. "That is not what I—"

But Taehyun is already taking off his nametag, placing it under the counter and grabbing the keys for the front door. He turns around once he's within a few feet of the front door, gazing at you expectantly. "Well? Come on."

You gesture with your arm at the library before you. "Taehyun, you've got to be joking. We cannot just get up and leave. What if someone needs to come study?"

He raises an eyebrow at you. "You think someone's going to need to come study? Over fall break? The day of the holiday? Not a chance."

"How are we going to punch out then, smart guy?" you ask indignantly.

But Taehyun just shrugs. "I'll just tell Soobin tomorrow that we both forgot, and he'll have to enter our punch-out times manually. Shouldn't be a big deal."

But you narrow your eyes at him. "'Shouldn't be a big deal?' You seriously think Soobin won't find it a bit suspicious that we both just happened to forget to punch out as we were leaving?"

"Not really. Look..." he says, starting softer this time. "If something happens, I'll take the fall for it. Alright? You need to get out of here."

You take another glance at the empty, quiet library. It's only an hour early. Maybe Soobin won't find out, somehow, by some miraculous stroke of luck that you know you don't exactly tend to have—but that lump in your throat hasn't gone away since you saw the picture of Yeonjun. So you nod. "Okay," you say, pulling your nametag off and sliding it under the desk beside Taehyun's, an action that wins you a growing smile on the man's face. "Let's get out of here, then."

You follow him out of the library, watching him lock the door and swallowing the momentary twinge of guilt at his actions.

Taehyun seems to read your mind, though. He looks up at you once the doors are locked. "Don't chicken out on me now. Okay? I promise. We'll be okay."

You nod wordlessly. "Let's just get out of here, then."

He smiles at you—that big ear-to-ear grin that causes nearly all of your worries to dissipate at just the sight. "That's the spirit. Come on. Are you up for going for a drive?"

"Sure," you say, nodding. Anywhere is better than being here, slowly falling into the trap of your own thoughts that you thought you'd narrowly escaped a month ago.

So you get in Taehyun's car once again, gazing out the window at the sun slowly lowering against the horizon, oranges and pinks spreading across the sky as if they were deliberate brush strokes from some invisible hands—just as beautiful as those paintings you and Yeonjun had gazed at that day you both whispered your mutual confessions to each other.

You shove that thought away just as Taehyun parks the car, and you look out the windshield to see where you are. You're at the top of a tall hill, trees around you on all sides as you gaze down at the college town before you. It looks so small from this distance, you think.

"I've never been here before," you say, turning to look at Taehyun. "I didn't even know this place existed."

He nods, still looking at the city below the two of you. "Beomgyu took me here once after a really bad shift. Got yelled at by some grad student for not having an extra copy of a textbook for them to loan when they had an exam tomorrow—you know the drill. It's a good spot to clear your head, I think."

You find that you'd have to agree the longer you stare down at the city, thinking about the perspective it affords you.

"We don't live in a huge college town, compared to some others, but there's still so, so many people down there. You know?" Taehyun says, as if he's reading your thoughts. Again. How is he so good at that? "I don't want you to ever think one person is the only person you could ever be with. That he's the only chance you'll ever get at love—that just can't be possible."

You know what he means. You even think it's true—you know it is, logically. But that doesn't mean this lingering heartbreak aching in your chest, in your lungs, in your veins, hurts any less. "Damn you, Kang Taehyun," you say quietly. "You make too much sense."

He laughs at that, finally tearing his gaze away from the city before him and turning to face you.

But you aren't finished, taking a deep breath before you continue. "I should've never let myself care about someone this much. This—this whole thing," you say, waving your arm in front of you in a vague gesture, "is just so stupid."

He frowns at that. "No," Taehyun says, shaking his head. "This isn't stupid. You're not stupid."

You shake your head right back. "I let being Yeonjun's partner be my most important trait. It was all I cared about—he was all I cared about. I shouldn't have done that, shouldn't have put him on such a pedestal like that."

Taehyun mulls your words over for a moment. "Maybe," he says. "But I don't think you should be mad at yourself for loving him. There's nothing wrong with that. And I think you've learned and grown through the relationship—you'll probably be a better partner in the next one you're in, too."

That thought still stings—of another relationship, of giving up completely on Yeonjun. Even though he's obviously given up on you. "I just don't know what I did wrong. I have to have done something—a relationship doesn't just end like that. Does it?" Yeonjun had been so many of your firsts—and now, he was the first person to ever break up with you. You'd always been the one in charge of that in the brief relationships you'd had before him, the ones that hadn't left nearly the kind of impact Yeonjun had had on you.

Taehyun shrugs lightly. "I don't have that much experience, but I can tell you that sometimes that is exactly what happens. People really can fall out of love—of course, that's because of their own feelings. Not usually anything to do with the other person," he adds quickly. "If anything, it says how much more equipped you are to handle a long-term, long-distance relationship than he is. You're the mature one. He's not."

"Clearly not," you scoff. "I'm still the one crying over him, and he's already moved on. Sounds like he's more mature than I am."

"That I disagree with," Taehyun counters immediately. "The fact that it's still upsetting you means that the relationship meant something different to you than it did to him—he must not have taken it as seriously as you. And that's his fault."

You're quiet for a moment after that. The sun has almost completely set now, dusk enveloping the college town before you as the city lights begin to twinkle in the dark. But you still find yourself ruminating. The hollowness you feel now is almost scarier than the heartbreak—you aren't even that sad anymore. Just empty. And you tell Taehyun this. "It still scares me—feeling like I don't know who I am now. I feel like I built up an entire imaginary future with him—and now I don't know what to expect of anything anymore."

Taehyun takes a breath as he nods. "I know," he says gently. "But the future is always like that. You know? Nothing's ever guaranteed, no matter how much we cling to the things we care about. Still—I want you to know that you're so, so much more than being someone's partner. I think you're incredibly clever, and funny, and smart, and beautiful—don't you dare look at me like that, Y/N," he says, only somewhat teasingly as you raise your eyebrows at that last addition. "I'm serious. It's okay to care about someone, but I want you to know that you are still worth so, so much as your own person. Regardless of whether you're with someone or not."

You wish you had better words to say to Taehyun—poetic, soft words to thank him in the same way that he's comforting you. Instead, you let the silence speak for you, losing yourself to the soft hum of Taehyun's radio and the glittering stars that have finally come out in the sky. It's a comfortable silence, though—and you feel those knots of worry and heartbreak at the pit of your stomach slowly start to untangle themselves. Just a little—but they do nonetheless.

It's long past nightfall when Taehyun finally drives you home, telling you goodnight and looking like there's more that he wants to say, even as he drives away—but you find yourself content in the moment anyway, even when you get ready for bed and slip under your covers.

But that doesn't mean the pain has gone away entirely.

Taehyun had told you to call him if you started feeling down about the whole situation, but when you wake up in the morning and feel that familiar heavy sorrow in your chest, you don't tell Taehyun a thing. Instead, you let yourself lie on your side and bring your knees up to your chest and weep, burying your face in the pillowcase until it's practically soaked through from your tears. You let yourself cry for yourself—for the version of you who has died, for the Yeonjun you had loved for so long and with such intensity, and for you now who will never again be the person you were before.

It would be different if the two of you had ended things dramatically, you think—if Yeonjun had cheated on you, or if you had been an unsupportive partner—but none of those things happened. It just ended. And he has already moved on, the way you imagine a normal person does.

Somehow, you think, that still makes it worse.

But you think back on what Taehyun had said to you last night, even as you brush away the tears staining your cheeks. Choi Yeonjun is not the only person in the world—it doesn't make sense to think of him as the only person who could ever love you. Yes, your relationship coming to an end still hurts like nothing you've ever experienced before—but already you can feel that ache subsiding, even if those moments are few and far between. Yeonjun had fully severed what was left of the two of you, but it now feels to you like it was necessary. Like it was something you needed—the beginning of a new path for you.

~~~

The rest of the semester goes by in a blur after fall break. You're so caught up in the mess of finals and work that you barely have time to think about anything else, let alone what's left of your feelings towards Yeonjun.

If Soobin knows about you and Taehyun closing early and conveniently forgetting to punch out, he never says a word—but you do work considerably more hours than usual in the weeks leading up to your final exams. Soobin says it's the busiest time of the year for the library, so he needs all hands on deck to help all the students coming in and out. Which you do believe—but you still have a sneaky feeling that you and Taehyun are working more than Beomgyu and Kai.

You wonder if your professors are all in some kind of secret conspiracy to make their students suffer as much as possible, since all five of your exams are stacked over the course of three days. You survive, even after pulling an all-nighter to prepare, which does mean that you should be able to relax at the end of the week while your other coworkers are still cramming. On Friday, though Beomgyu and Kai still have one last final, which is why you and Taehyun both find yourselves working a double to cover for them while they take their exams. It's a long shift, full of snappy students and an exhausted Soobin—by the time 10 p.m. finally rolls around, you feel yourself on the verge of collapsing as you clock out with Taehyun.

Your favorite coworker raises an eyebrow at your exhausted state. "You alright?" he asks, tapping at his shirt collar before extending a hand to you.

Your nametag. Christ, you'd almost forgotten. You sigh, nodding as you slip your nametag off of your shirt before placing it in Taehyun's waiting palm, who then moves to slide it under the front counter with his and your other coworkers' tags. "You mean you don't feel like you're about to pass out after that? I thought today would never end."

He laughs a little as the two of you walk towards the front door. "Sure I do. But you saw what Kai sent in the work chat, right? He and Beomgyu are going out later tonight now that they're done with finals. Of course, I'm not sure if that means they feel like they did good or bad, to be honest—but I guess we'll know when we get there. I told them I'd meet them once we were done with work."

You laugh too, pulling your car keys out of your pocket now that you're only a few feet from your respective vehicles. "Yeah, I saw it. But you guys can go ahead—I think I need to turn in early tonight. I'll see you all after the break, okay?"

The look on Taehyun's face fades a little, and he stops walking right in front of your cars. "Are you sure? It might be fun—you know how funny Beomgyu gets."

You stop walking too, standing beside him. The thought of tipsy Beomgyu does bring back fond memories of work parties past—the occasion where he tried to convince everyone to jump into a pool, fully clothed, at the house party where you all barely knew the owner was a particularly fun one—but you don't feel up for it tonight. So you shake your head. "No—I'm too tired, Taehyun. But you all have fun, seriously. Just be safe, alright?" You wink at him teasingly.

But he doesn't return the gesture. Rather, an unusual look washes over his face—an expression of determination that you aren't sure you've ever seen from him before. "You're going home tomorrow, right?" he asks suddenly.

You nod. "Yeah, I'm spending the break with my parents. Why?"

Taehyun visibly swallows before he opens his mouth again to speak. You feel a sudden uneasiness develop in the pit of your stomach just before you hear him say "I'm telling you now, then. I like you, Y/N." Suddenly. Just the way Yeonjun had in that art museum all those years ago.

The two of you are outside, but you suddenly feel like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the parking lot you're standing in. You blink. "What?"

He nods, gaze unwavering from yours. "I like you."

He's joking. He has to be. Either that, or you really did pass out in the library earlier, and this is all some kind of dream. "...You like me," you repeat, slowly. A short laugh escapes you before you can stop yourself. "What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I said," he says. "I know this is a pretty terrible time to tell you this, but—"

"Yes," you say, practically unable to believe what you're hearing. "Yes, Taehyun, this is a terrible time to tell me—God, why would you tell me this?"

"Because it's true," he replies almost instantly. "And I'm not telling you because I want you to say the same thing. You don't have to say anything, actually, I...I just wanted you to know."

Your heart sinks to your chest at that. "So, you...you'd confess to someone who you know won't reciprocate? Why?"

Taehyun shakes his head. "I'm not telling you because I want anything to happen. Not right now, anyway—I'm not that stupid. I think." He tries to laugh, but the sound doesn't quite come out right. "I just want you to know, in case you ever feel the same way."

In case you ever feel the same way. He doesn't think you like him back. Hell—do you? The thought of romance has been so banned from your mind for the last several months that you haven't even entertained the notion, whether it was Taehyun or anyone else in the world—but you think about that. You think about the way those feelings of tight anxiety in your chest loosen when you see that you're scheduled to work with him, how your heart beats faster when you get a notification on your phone from him—not to mention that evening you'd spent in his car on the hilltop overlooking the city. Those feelings of warmth that ignite within you every time you'd looked over at him that night probably were feelings of attraction. You just haven't been able to even entertain this thought, of liking someone else, in ages. You almost can't ever remember when—and that frightens you. "I...I think I do feel that way, though," you say. "I care about you, Taehyun. So, so much. You've been the only person I could depend on for the last three months, but...but I think you deserve better than this. God, you should know better than anyone that I'm nowhere near being over Yeonjun. That I'm in no state to even think about dating someone right now." You laugh, tone dripping with self-deprecation. "I'm a mess. I barely even remember what those feelings are even like. You have to know that anything I do in this mental state now would just be a rebound, even if I didn't want it to be, and I...I don't want to do that to you."

Taehyun nods quickly, taking a step closer. "You're not a mess. But I do know how you feel—which is why I wanted to tell you. You don't have to do anything about it now if you don't want to," he says again. "I just wanted you to know."

You shake your head, surprised to feel sudden tears of frustration brimming at the corners of your eyes. "God...Taehyun, please don't do this to me," you whisper, holding back a sniff. He's close enough to you that he can hear, even at this volume. "I don't want to lose you too." Things will never be the same between the two of you—you know this as well as you know your own name. No matter how much the two of you try to awkwardly dance around each other from now on, you'll never forget that you had this conversation. You can never go back to just being friends.

But Taehyun shakes his head fervently. "You won't lose me," he says, voice unwavering before he makes a slight move to reach for your hand out of instinct before stopping himself. "Not if you don't want to. I'll stick around for as long as you want me to."

You grab his hand anyway, even as he looks up at you in shock. "So...what? You'd wait for me?" you say, laughing quietly. "I can't ask that of you. That isn't fair to you."

He just shakes his head again. "If you want me to, I will. I'll wait as long as you need me to—I'm telling you, I don't mind."

You scoff a little at that before you can stop yourself. "You say that now, but I...I have no idea when I'll feel ready to think about being with anyone again. I'm sorry, Taehyun—but I don't know how long this could take. You know? I mean, I'd hope it wouldn't be years," you say, laughing hollowly, "but I just have no idea. And I just don't understand why you would do this—wait for me. I mean...look at you," you say, laughing nervously as you gesture vaguely towards his figure. You haven't thought about him in that way before—or maybe you haven't let yourself think of him in that way, you realize now—but you can't ignore the sharp lines of his jaw, the clearly defined strength beneath his sweater—Taehyun is beautiful. There could never be any denying it. "You're perfect, Taehyun. You could have anyone you wanted—certainly someone less fucked up than me. Someone you wouldn't have to wait to be with, I—"

But he just shakes his head. "I most certainly am not perfect—but I just want to see you happy," he replies, voice as calm and steady as ever. You wonder if this is how he imagined this conversation going. "Whether that's with me, or someone else, or on your own—that's okay. And I...you know now. I'd like for it to be with me, if that's possible," he adds, laughing a little, "but if it's not, that's okay too. You just deserve to be happy, and I want to see that happen for you."

You let his words hang in the air between the two of you for a long, long time. The only sound in the entire parking lot is the occasional soft jangling of your keys when a gust of wind passes by.

He'd wait for you.

"...I really don't know how long it will be until I can think about this," you say again, breaking the momentary silence.

But Taehyun just nods, gently squeezing your hand. You'd almost forgotten your fingers were still interlaced with his. "I'm telling you, that's okay. I'll wait as long as you want until you want to talk about this again—and if you don't want it to go any further, it doesn't have to. I just...just wanted you to know how I felt, regardless."

You nod. Before you can say anything else, though, Taehyun's phone rings from his back pocket, loudly interrupting the two of you in the otherwise empty parking lot.

He turns slightly to glance down at it, and makes a face when he sees who it's from. "It’s Kai," he says softly. "They must be wondering where I am."

"Go ahead," you say just as quietly, gesturing with your free hand towards his car. "It's okay. I...I need to think, anyway."

Taehyun keeps his gaze on you for a moment, mind clearly racing through a thousand different responses as he sets his mouth in a worried line—but eventually he nods. "Okay," he says, finally letting go of your hand. "I...I'll see you after break, then."

You nod wordlessly.

His words still echo in your mind, even as he gets in his car and offers a small wave your way.

He'd wait for you. It's more than you could ever ask for. At the same time, however, you realize that it's an admission to yourself—admitting that getting over Yeonjun is still going to be a long, difficult path to walk.

And when you're finally left in the parking lot by yourself, you find that you feel more alone than you have in a long, long time.

~~~

The winter holidays go by at a snail's pace. All you want to do is sleep off the fresh heartache your conversation with Taehyun has caused and do practically nothing all break—but you find yourself hilariously bored on your fourth day of doing "nothing."

Your parents are uncharacteristically lenient of your behavior—they used to never let you sleep in this late, especially if you were home from school after not seeing you for so long—but you know they know about you and Yeonjun breaking up. Your mother had been particularly fond of him, too. Maybe that's why she doesn't say a word when you go to bed early every night.

It's ridiculously hard to keep your mind off of Yeonjun over the holidays—couples are everywhere. Nearly every holiday movie seems to revolve around a romance, not to mention all the ones in real life that you can't stop seeing. Your friends post about spending the week with their partner's families, about seeing the other's hometown for the first time, of a surprise and sudden engagement from one of your cousins and their long-time girlfriend—it's enough to make you sick. You know that's a horrible thing to think at such happy occasions for the people you know, but the thought forms itself anyway.

Every time you feel like you've taken a step forward towards healing, towards finally, finally getting over him—you see something that sends you reeling back into that heartache and sorrow, sending you ten steps back from where you'd been. It's a vicious cycle, and as much as you beg for it to end—it doesn't. Not yet.

Because Yeonjun haunts you in your home, too. It's hard to set up decorations with your parents without thinking about how you did this last year with him—how he had held onto your waist as he reached around you into the box of tinsel, how your mother had beamed at him as he'd helped her cook, how angelic he had looked as the two of you walked around your neighborhood looking at the different lights each house had set up. They were such beautiful memories, at the time—had only made you feel more confident and cemented in your relationship with Yeonjun as each one passed. You'd hadn't ever imagined a future without him. And now you can't help but wonder if he had already felt dissatisfied with you in each of those moments.

But as unrelenting as those memories are, so is the passing of time—because you survive the winter holiday season, somehow, even with your shattered heart. Your plan is to move back into school right after the new year, which is how you end up at home on New Year's Eve. Your parents have already gone to their rooms to sleep by the time eleven o'clock strikes on the clock, and as hard as you try, you can't help but think about the fact that this is your first New Year's Eve in years that you'll be alone for.

Or so you think, anyway. The instant you see your phone screen display 12:01 A.M., it buzzes. It's a message from Taehyun.

> happy new year, y/n

The new year.

Everything has hurt so badly for months—like a wound that refuses to form a scab, because you won't let it. You're the one who won't put the bandage over the cut, who keeps digging the blade into the metaphorical wound that was you and Yeonjun every time you think about him.

But what's the alternative? Moving on? Accepting that your relationship with Yeonjun is over? That what had been the happiest years of your life up until now are through? It's unthinkable. It's unfair to that version of you who had loved him with all of your heart to just throw them away—to just lock the door and never look back.

But it's what you have to do, you realize. You won't ever feel any better until you can accept that you and Yeonjun are done, for good—and Taehyun is offering you a way out. This is the ending of what you've known up until now—but a chance to finally, finally start anew. To put the past behind you and try again.

< happy new year, taehyun.

IV. SPRING.

The spring semester hardly gives you a moment to breathe.

You vaguely remember signing up for classes right before fall break—but those weeks were such a blur that you neglected to realize this spring would be your first semester in upper division courses. In other words—you're drowning in schoolwork with scarcely an instant to yourself, let alone to sort out your lingering feelings.

And in the moments that you do have time to breathe, Yeonjun always seems to find a way to sneak to the forefront of your mind. But these recollections aren't always as painful as they were before. In one instance, you feel a wave of relief wash over you—but only for the single instant that it provides you comfort—when you remember turning down Yeonjun's offer to buy each other promise rings before he'd first left for college.

He'd pointed at them in a jewelry store the two of you had wandered into while walking downtown together. "What do you think?" he'd asked, winking.

You'd laughed. "Yeah, right. I hear getting engaged right after high school never ends up going badly for anyone."

But he'd shaken his head immediately. "Not engaged," he'd corrected gently. "They're promise rings. It's a promise to you, from me. And from you to me—that we'll wait for each other, and only each other, until we're both ready. No matter what happens."

Your heart had fluttered at the sudden declaration, cheeks flushing pink before you could stop them—but you had thought even then that it seemed like an awfully rash thing to commit to for a relationship of barely over a year. "That's...unbelievably romantic, Jjun," you'd admitted. "Even for you. Have you done something?" you'd teased, narrowing your eyes at him.

He'd gasped, putting his hands above his head in mock surrender. "I most certainly have not. Can't I just be a hopeless romantic every once in a while?"

You'd pretended to mull it over. "Hmm. Maybe on special occasions. We'll have to see if we can work out a schedule for your hopeless romantic tendencies in the future."

Yeonjun had then made a show of wiping pretend sweat from his brow. "Thank goodness."

You'd giggled, despite yourself. "I'm serious, though. It's a beautiful thought, but...do you think it's something we could come back to? At a later time?"

Ever the gentleman, your Yeonjun had nodded sweetly at you. "Of course," he'd said, taking your hand in his before leading the two of you back out of the store. "We can talk about the future whenever you're ready. I'm just as happy in our present right now, anyway."

That had certainly changed somewhere along the way, you think bitterly to yourself. But pushing past this memory still feels like a small victory, in a way. You hadn't wasted money on committing to a promise that Yeonjun had broken.

There are countless more memories that resurface in this way—but by the time they pass, you no longer taste that metaphorical blood in your mouth anymore at their recollection, no longer feel your heart yearning for them to stay the way you would have a few months ago. They just pass, and you don't think about them again after they go.

Yeonjun only texts you once. You haven't sent him a single message since his Instagram post before fall break—and of course, you imagine he knows why. You may not have expected him to break up with you when he did, but you did know him ridiculously well at one point, seemingly both inside and out—you know that he knows you well enough, too, to understand why you've suddenly gone radio silent. But he does text you once, right as the first week of your semester finishes.

> hey. is everything okay? do you want to talk?

Months ago, you think, you would have leapt at the opportunity—jumped through the screen and across space and time, practically, to have a chance to talk to him for an extended period of time, for a possible chance to win him back. Now you just feel embarrassment towards yourself for ever having felt that way.

You never respond.

Taehyun's presence in your life is different now, too. You still work together, of course, but you have several shared classes again—so you find yourself studying and comparing essays at either his apartment or yours nearly three or four times each week. It's challenging, all of it, but in between, it does make you remember why you became friends with Taehyun in the first place—because he's not like anyone else you've ever known before. Every time you want to throw in the towel on a particularly lengthy assignment, he has some witty comment that gives you just enough energy to keep going. Every time you come by his apartment, the way the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles upon seeing you sends a surge of warmth through you. If you have felt trapped in frigid ice since this breakup, Taehyun has been your sun, ever so gradually melting that ice away whenever you let him.

And you do let him. One night, you're leaving his apartment after exchanging study guides for one of your midterms. You walk by his side, car keys swinging softly in between your fingers.

"How are you feeling?" Taehyun asks right before you open your car door. He doesn't elaborate, but you know what he's talking about.

So you turn to him. "I, um...I don't know if this will get better," you admit quietly. It's a fear you've harbored from the start—that you'll never get over Yeonjun, your first and last—that he will have created your perception of love, molded and shaped it to his design and his alone before shattering it, leaving you to pick up the pieces for the rest of your life.

But Taehyun lets out a scoff at that. "It will. I promise, Y/N. It does get better."

You narrow your eyes at him. "How do you know that? Hmm? Are you some secret fortune teller that I don't know about? Is that how you've been able to afford such a nice apartment here?"

He laughs at you. "No. I'm not a fortune teller. But I know this much—it'll get better. I can't tell you when, because I don't know that. It's something you'll have to figure out, I think. But one day, soon, you'll wake up one morning, and it'll hurt less. And then, a little later, it won't hurt at all. It'll feel like it was a bad dream. You'll get involved in other things, other interests, other people, and then you won't think of this when you wake up in the morning at all."

You nod, slowly. "I want to believe you, Taehyun. I do. I just don't know how long that will take."

But he just shrugs again. Damn him for being so easygoing. "That's okay. You know where I'll be, regardless."

You do know where he'll be—right by your side, just like he's been for the last six months. In truth, you had expected him to fall back on his promise to wait—you would have been sad, sure, but you wouldn't have blamed him. Putting up with you moving on from a relationship over the course of half a year, now, can't have been an easy task. But you've never heard a word of complaint from him. He isn't that kind of person—you know this now. He really will stick by you for as long as you'll allow him to—a kind of affection you haven't felt from anyone in a long, long time.

But right beside you isn't the only place Taehyun seems to be. Your subconscious seems to have taken a liking to him, too—because that night, you see him in your dreams. You'd tossed and turned earlier, unable to fall asleep, throwing the sheets off the bed before you curl up into a ball and squeeze your eyes shut. When you finally find yourself lured back into sleep, you find Taehyun—strong and sweet and caring and beautiful Taehyun. He wraps his arms around you in the dream, hands grabbing hold of your waist before he presses his lips to yours in a heated kiss—as if he never wants to let you go. As if there isn't anyone else in the world that matters except for the two of you.

You wake up in the morning and weep.

Later in the day, you find tears brimming at the corners of your eyes again when you finally find the courage to delete the photo album on your phone of you and Yeonjun—but they never fall past your lashes, even when you hit the red delete button.

Perhaps you've run out of tears for him, because none fall when you package away everything else of his in your apartment—every framed photo of the two of you, every stuffed animal he'd bought, every hoodie of his you'd once promised to give back all fit neatly in a single cardboard box, sealed and never to be seen again.

Without the remnants of Yeonjun scattered throughout your apartment, you find yourself thinking of him less with each day that passes. The ghost who had once haunted every fiber of your being now seems like little more than a bad dream you've suddenly woken up from. This realization hurts you, just like the ones before it—but the hurt doesn't linger. It, too, grows faint before long, dissipated and fading away just like the rest of your relationship.

The end of the semester doesn't sneak up on you this spring. You have a lengthy presentation for your hardest class, an argumentative speech that you've practically spent all semester preparing for. You and Taehyun practice for each other for weeks beforehand, critiquing and encouraging and teasing each other the whole way through—but it's still over before you know it.

The morning after your final presentation, you don't wake up until the sun has risen high in the sky, peeking through the blinds over your window and finally raising you from sleep. You stretch as you walk over to the window, opening the blinds and peering out into the street below you. There's a couple walking on the sidewalk—and you recognize the girl as a regular from the library, the one with strawberry-colored hair whom Kai had been practically obsessed with back in the fall.

She tugs at the sleeve of the man walking beside her, pulling him into a sudden kiss, and you instantly turn away from the window, giving them a moment of privacy despite their actions being in public anyway.

Well—she obviously hadn't known about Kai's existence, but she'd still clearly been able to find some kind of happiness. The thought soothes you, in a way, and you think about how the scene below you would have made you feel six months ago. You would've been jealous, probably, and upset that you'd never experience anything like that again—but now the only thing it fills you with is longing. It makes you happy to see others experience something that you know feels like a gift. You want to experience that again too, you realize.

The instant that thought forms in your head, another memory materializes.

That's okay. You know where I'll be, regardless.

You feel your heart soar at the recollection.

Yes, Taehyun. I do.

V. SUMMER.

Taehyun texts you the very first day summer break begins.

> how'd your last final go?

> omg i meant to tell you after work yesterday but kai's parents said he could stay in the beach house this weekend

> like a very early birthday thing i think lol. it'll be a few ppl but you're more than welcome to come tomorrow if you haven't gone back home yet

The invite sends a flurry of both excitement and nervousness through you. You haven't gone back home yet—your parents aren't coming until early next week to help you move out for the summer, not to mention the fact that you haven't see Taehyun or any of your other coworkers since the end of finals week. Excited doesn't even begin to cover it, you think.

< i'll be there!

Kai, thankfully, is a relatively easy person to shop for—you have no trouble at all picking up a wristwatch you remember him talking about a few times at work. And in truth, his birthday isn't for another two months, but you imagine he needed some excuse to convince his parents to let him throw an end-of-the-school-year party—so you don't mind the expense at all.

Kai is overjoyed to see you when you arrive at the beach house, thanks to Taehyun sending you the address, and even more so when he sees the gift bag in your hands.

"You did not have to get me anything!" he exclaims, pouting, but you still see that glint of anticipation in his eyes despite his words.

You beam at him, throwing your arms around him in a quick hug. You've missed this—being with your friends and not feeling like you were putting them through hell with you. Seeing them happy with you feels right in a way that nothing else has in months. "Happy birthday, Kai," you say, pulling back so he can tear into his present (which he does almost immediately).

Taehyun is waving at you from the shallow end of the pool. "Did you bring a swimsuit?" you hear him call over Kai's shouts of excitement.

You nod, biting back a grin as you pull your shirt over your head and tug your shorts off as quickly as possible, revealing the bathing suit that you'd worn on your way over underneath. You immediately run to jump in the deep end, splashing both Taehyun and Beomgyu, if the yells and laughs you hear when you resurface are any indicator.

Beomgyu makes some excuse about needing to find the birthday cake, hauling himself up and out from the side of the pool when you start to swim over towards Taehyun.

He doesn't budge, grinning at you as you make your way towards the shallow end. "Nice of you to make an appearance," he says, winking.

"Well, I had to let you know I was here somehow, you know," you reply instantly, grinning right back.

Taehyun's smirk widens. "Of course. And I'm glad you're here, Y/N. How'd you end up doing for your finals?"

You shrug. "A’s and B’s. I'm still pretty satisfied with how that presentation for Dr. Lee went, though—how about you?"

He pushes your shoulder playfully. "Look at you! I told you you'd kill that speech. I knew you could do it."

You feel the ghost of his hand on your skin even after it's gone, shivers rippling down your spine at the thought—and that does it. You can't keep up the small talk any longer. "I have something for you," you announce, as stone-faced as you can manage. "Close your eyes."

Something flickers in his eyes—surprise? delight, even?—but it's gone just as soon as you notice it. "For me?" He laughs. "But it's Kai's birthday party."

You nod. "I know," you say. "I already gave him his present. You get one too."

Taehyun's eyes narrow. "Am I getting the same thing as Kai?"

You can't bite back the grin that tugs at your lips. "Not even close."

He seems satisfied with that, finally, so he closes his eyes. You know you'll only get one chance to do this, to do it right with the element of surprise—so you lean in as quickly as you can, before the logical side of your brain can catch up with the rest of you, and press your lips to the side of his cheek.

Taehyun looks at you, eyes wide open with surprise, until—"You missed."

You frown. "I what?"

He nods, as if that should have been obvious. "Mmm-hmm. You missed." There's only a split second for you to realize what he means before he's taken hold of your chin with two of his fingers and brought your lips to his. He's kissing you.

Taehyun is kissing you.

There are no fireworks or cannons shooting above your head, no angel floating down from the heavens to confirm that this moment has been the peak of your entire life—but kissing Taehyun is soft. Gentle. It's all the comfort he always makes you feel, has always made you feel—nothing feels more right than being pressed up against him here, with one hand cradling your chin and one settled securely on your hip as his lips move against yours.

There still aren't fireworks or cannons shooting off behind you—but what you do hear are loud whoops and cheers from your coworkers (and maybe a few fake retching noises). Taehyun pulls back a little once he hears those, dark eyes scanning your face for any signs of discomfort—but there are none. Instead, you laugh, and Taehyun does too, breath skating across your jaw as you feel more right than you have in an achingly long time. When he presses his lips to yours again, still smiling against the kiss, you feel that sensation of right, of warmth, of comfort practically coursing through your veins as you slide your arms around his neck. This, right here, is where you're supposed to be.

“You waited,” you manage to breathe out in between kisses, holding tighter to Taehyun’s shoulders above the water to steady yourself.

He smiles at you, beaming brighter and warmer than the summer sun above the two of you. “Yes, Y/N,” he whispers softly, moving his hand to cup your cheek in his palm. “And I’d do it again if it meant we would still end up right here.”

It's not the closing of one chapter and the beginning of another—life is hardly ever that smooth. It just is.

You don't know the kind of partner Taehyun is yet. You don't know that he'll almost always keep a hand on your thigh when you sit together, that he'll write a list in the notes app of his phone of your orders at each of your favorite restaurants, that he'll love to take candid photos of you to show you later, that one day the two of you will be in a very similar position to the way you are now while a small black box holds a hefty weight in his back pocket—but you don't have to know any of that yet.

You're here with Taehyun, now, your arms around him as his wrap around you, and that's what matters. The rest you can figure out together.

taglist: @petrichor-han @kangroo-chan @ot7lonelylover @lilacdreams-00 @mainexiii @awkwardnesshabitat @lotus-dly @elizabeth11moreno @nerdysl-t @seung-scrittore

©️ noramoons 2021-2022. do not translate or reupload my writing.

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billlydear · 1 year

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Hi! I was wondering if you could do headcanons for Billy dating someone who is very fashionable and confident and intimidating but also maybe a little feisty and introverted? Maybe they moved from somewhere cool like New York City or something? (If possible maybe add something in there about max looking up to them/thinking their cool?) tysm! I love ur blog btw

HC - BILLY HARGROVE WITH A READER LIKE HIM

W.C 970 - INBOX (please request) - CREDIT TO GIF OWNER

thank you! i really appreciate it :-) i'm sorry i took kind of a long break! but i'm back now, and i'd love some requests for billy fics :-)

you kiss him first

it's not really a sweet, loving gesture

it only happens because he gets in your face

he backs you up against your locker and asks why you've got the same jacket on today as you did yesterday

clueing you in to the fact that not only does he care enough to notice that you wear different outfits every day

he comes close and tugs at the collar, flicking his eyes up and down the way that it fits over your body

but he noticed the one time you didn't

you tell him it's because when your date pulled it off in the backseat of his car last night, you'd seen it before school and decided you wanted it again

that shuts him up, his eyes go kind of wide and his jaw tightens

"Who?"

"Who took it off of you?"

"No one I'm gonna tell you about, Hargrove." and it's not a lie, because there was no one. you just like the jacket, and you're frustrated aroused? by the smug look on his face

And you think it's over, you think he's gonna leave you alone, so you slip out from your locker, shut it, and start off down the hallway

but he shouts after you, "They must not have been very good, then!"

And you turn around, "How would you know?"

"You won't even talk about it," He scoffs, and he strides up to you while a few straggling students pass by, "I mean, come on, you don't wanna relive it? What did he even do to you?"

"This," You spit, and grip him by the jaw so forcefully it almost hurts

You yank him down into the most heated kiss of his life, there's instant chemistry and his hands are at your waist before he can process that he's even kissing you

He gets so into it, groaning and nipping at your lip but then the second bell rings, and you're officially late for class.

You break away with a sly little smirk, knowing he's hooked by the way that his eyes are sharp as he watches you walk away

"Y'know, I could leave this in the back of your car tonight, Hargrove," You call as you walk away, flipping open one side of your jacket, "Eight tonight, and don't be late."

He watches you walk into your classroom and only then does he realize that he doesn't know where you live

so his only option? wait outside your class until you're done for the day.

he skips his own, just leans against the wall outside your classroom and tries to relive the kiss you'd shared

when you rush out of the class he's already waiting at your locker just across the hall, and you pay no attention to him as you get your books out

"You never told me where you live." He drawls, and you scoff

"I thought you'd know by now, you've been passing it every time you drive to school."

He finds out you live just down the street from him!

this means that at eight that night, he doesn't ring the doorbell with a flower in his hand and money for dinner in his wallet

he throws a rock at your closed window at 7:30

he catches you trying to figure out what to wear for your date

and when he crawls in the window, you're barely dressed

you've got sleep shorts and a tank top on while you decide what to wear, and when he notices you trying to cover your chest, he slips his own jacket off, tossing it at you.

"Just keep it," He offers, trying to look casual as he lights a cigarette and not like he's freaking out about rejection, "Maybe you can leave it in the back of your car."

and from then on, you're a thing

that night doesn't end in a hookup but it does end with a lot of heated kisses, and maybe some heavy petting if you really can't wait

but your parents are home, and they're still unloading boxes from your move, so you can't make too much noise or they'll hear you while they trek boxes up the stairs to their bedroom

he sneaks out early in the morning to take you to school, and swings by home to pick up max on the way

you offer to get in the backseat for her and billy grabs your arm to stop you from leaving, insisting that she rides in the back

he doesn't let go altogether, he just leaves his hand on your thigh while he drives.

you send max a sympathetic smile from the front, though, and she catches your eye in the mirror

he takes off and goes way too fast, and it's fun and all, but you're worried that he'll crash

so you demand that he slows down, and you're forceful enough about it that he actually does

that's why max likes you, because billy listens to you

and if she ever hears stories of new york?

she thinks you're awesome, and she definitely uses you as style and attitude inspiration

billy is protective of you, yes, but he doesn't have to worry that much.

as quiet as you are most of the time, he knows that if someone does something you can hold your own, and sometimes he'll watch proudly, cigarette between his lips as you chew someone out for touching you

or better yet, he'll smirk as you punch someone and he'll clean up your fist later, telling you how hot you looked

you guys swap stories of ny and california, and you definitely plan a road trip for after you graduate where you'll circle the country and stop at your old homes and hopefully find somewhere else to live

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove blurb #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove drabble #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove headcanon #billy hargrove headcanons #billy hargrove hc #billy hargrove hcs #billy hargrove smut #↳ ❝ { pandora's art } ¡! ❞

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mysteryshoptls · 10 months

Text

R Malleus Draconia PE Uniform Personal Story

"This is a first"

[Sports Field]

Heartslabyul Student: Look. It's the Malleus Draconia… He's really taking class in his PE uniform.

Octavinelle Student: Since we're not in the same class as him, we don't really see much of him, so it freaks me out whenever he's in a joint class with us.

Malleus: …

Heartslabyul Student: Looks like he's gonna be stretching on his own. Wanna reach out to him?

Octavinelle Student: No way! It might just be stretching, but what if he puts a curse on us just for pushing down on his back?

Malleus: …

Cater: Malleus-kun, you're all alone. Want me to ask my partner if you can join us to make a trio?

Malleus: I do not mind being alone.

Cater: There you go saying something all dreary again! Don't you think you should be making some fun, exciting school memories here every once in a while?

Cater: These are precious memories, yeah? They'll probably last forever, y'know? …Ooh, yeah! Memories are better if there's a physical reminder ♪

Malleus: Diamond. If there is something you wish to say to me, why don't you speak plainly?

Cater: Aha. Guess I was obvious I had my own plan up my sleeve, huh?

Cater: Wellll, I thought maybe I could upload you to Magicam～

Malleus: Magicam?

Cater: Basically, I wanna take a picture of you! Ah, and if you want, I'll join you for it ♪

Malleus: I was curious what your aim was… Just a photo? You called out to me for such a thing as that?

Cater: I'd been waiting for that chance that we'd be in the same class, y'know ♪

Cater: I bet you in your PE Uniform'll totally go viral, don't you think? 'Specially because I bet photos of you are rare in the first place!

Malleus: I must admit, this is a first. I never had someone like you wish to take a picture of me before.

Cater: I mean, I guess it might be pretty difficult for people to ask you for a pic normally. Kinda like, you got too much of an intimidating aura, Malleus-kun.

Cater: Like, you're a bit out of our league, or like, we can't really read what you're thinking… And maybe just a little scary～?

Malleus: …

Cater: Sides, us commoners can't even hope to think about what your personal life is like.

Cater: Like, do you even show up in pictures? I'm just kidding. Obviously, you'd totally show up, right～? Ahaha!

Malleus: …

Cater: Haha… Uh, oh. Malleus-kun, did all that make you made?

Cater: Sorry, sorry, I was just kidding around.

Malleus: Of course not. I would not be angered by such banter.

Cater: Ah, whew, glad you're the type of guy who can take a joke.

Cater: I mean, Malleus-kun, you're an enigmatic and mysterious guy, after all. You scared me just a bit there.

Vargas: That's it for stretching, everyone line up!

Cater: Ah, he's calling us. 'Kay, we can talk about this some other time…

Malleus: Alright, Diamond. I do not mind. You may take a photo of me.

Cater: Oh! Awesome～ Glad you're up for it!

Cater: Cay-kun's so happy～! Thanks, Malleus-kun ♡

Malleus: So... What sort of photo were you hoping to capture? Unfortunately, I have no experience with Magicam.

Cater: Hmm, let me think. We're in our PE Uniforms, so we should make it look like, "we're about to exercise," or something like that? And our hashtags can be…

Cater: #NRC #MalleusDraconia #SportsAttire #PhysicalEducation #SSR

Cater: …How about that?

Malleus: Then, why not take one while I run?

Cater: Ooh, nice, nice～! Let's try to take one shot like that ♪

Cater: Ah, but you only need to pretend to run, 'kay? If you really run, you'll come out blurry on the picture.

Malleus: Pretend? Then would that not be a fabrication?

Cater: It's fine, it's fine, that's basically all Magicam is. Rather than a blurry picture that I can't enhance, it's more important to make it look good from the start!

Malleus: Is that so?

Cater: That's so! Okay, then let's snag a pic ♪ Can you make it look like you're running?

Malleus: Like this?

Cater: Can you lower your arm just a bit? And tilt your head a little…

Cater: OK, OK, perfect! This'll be a great picture.

Cater: Okay, I'm gonna take it. Say ch…

Cater: …eese!

Cater: And hey, why'd you move? If you move then, it'll be blurry, and I won't get a good picture.

Malleus: Ah, apologies. It seems I unintentionally tensed up there.

Cater: Eh～ Did you seriously get nervous there for a bit? Wow, you got an adorable side to you too, huh ♪

Cater: OK, no worries! Just relax～ We'll try again ♪

Cater: Say ch…

Cater: …eese!

[zoom!!]

Cater: And this time he ran off! Hey, hey, Malleus-kun!? Where are you going!? Come back, already.

Malleus: What is the matter, Diamond?

Cater: H-Hey, come on. If you move that much, I won't be able to take a picture～

Malleus: I see, what a bind. …Ah, perhaps…

Malleus: You are unable to take a picture of me because I am a scary, enigmatic, and mysterious guy who you cannot read?

Cater: …Eh? Hey, isn't that what I just said earlier?

Malleus: I couldn't say.

Cater: It totally is! Ehh～ You're totally holding a grudge!

Cater: Guess that really did bother you earlier. C'mon, I'm sorry, OK?

Malleus: It does not faze me. You may take as many pictures as you wish… If you can capture me, that is.

Cater: C'mon, you're really gonna tease me like that～?

Cater: Oookay. I'm definitely gonna get that miracle of a picture of you and totally go viral, so you better be ready for it!

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #malleus draconia #cater diamond #ashton vargas #twst malleus #twst cater #twst vargas #twst translation

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bellafragolina · 9 months

Text

Regency AU Laventon to Celebrate First Semester of Grad School done

fem reader, historically inaccurate regency au, i like the name theodore for lav, you know the drill

🍓🍓🍓

"Teddy," your breathy moan sends a bolt of hot need down his spine, "Teddy."

Gods above, how he loves that name off your tongue. Professor Theodore Laventon never thought himself lucky enough to find a wife such as you. He was an older bachelor, and he didn't expect anything out of the season, but then you arrived.

You, dripping in silk and velvet, fingers futzing with the fabric of your skirt and you rambled on to whoever was in your company. Laventon's gaze followed you as you mingled, and with luck, he grew close enough to hear bits of your conversation.

"They're lovely little creatures." You said, and Laventon's posture straightened. "Mantises are just so darling. I know they look intimidating, but they're so marvelous once you do some reading on them. I've actually studied them a bit myself, what with my nephew's help catching them, and I've found-"

Your partner would then yawn aloud, so horribly rude. Laventon, in agony, would watch you wilt, hear your voice grow softer as you stifled yourself to listen to whatever patter your would-be suitor wanted to talk about instead.

Throughout the night, your voice fell, and soon enough, you were hardly speaking besides small talk and meaningless waffles.

Laventon knew it was wrong for him to approach you, but he couldn't help himself. He wandered to your side, flustered but wanting so desperately to hear you again.

"Theodore Laventon." He introduced himself. Your hand settled in his, warm and somewhat scrapped up, not unlike his own. Your own name settled on his tongue like cool wine, and he drank it down eagerly. "You. . . mentioned before, and I happened to overhear, that you were studying mantises. I'm actually a professor at the local university, one of ecology, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on the lovely little creatures."

Oh, how you blossomed under his attention. Hearing your voice, your thoughts, your brilliant mind aloud was everything Laventon could hope for. And oh, how you looked at him with those big, eager eyes of yours whenever he spoke. He had no right trying to court you, but as hours wasted away in each other's company, he had to at least be your acquaintance.

And so he extended an invitation. His lectures were yours to attend. You came to see him, he'd teach a class, and you'd follow any lingering students with questions, eyes so very bright to see the textbooks and papers he had for you to peruse.

Others would act so snide. Mutterings of "woman's work" and how no suitor would want a career oriented woman. It made Laventon's blood boil, for how could they not see how beautiful you were when you were, so enthused by the world around you?

When the mutterings turned to rumors of you being married off to the first interested party by your exasperated parents, Laventon took the chance. He couldn't stand the idea of seeing you snuffed out by the next season, so he took your hands in his, placing one on his heart.

"Marry me." He breathed, staring into your eyes. "Please. I want you in my life."

You smiled at him, tears in your bright, bright eyes. "Yes."

And now here you are, beneath him, laid out on the blanket he brought for your walk about the estate grounds. Your face is flushed, lips swollen from bruising kisses, and the breeze rustles your shared notes strewn about the blanket.

"Teddy," you breathe, nails scratching along the base of his skull, "kiss me."

Laventon would give you the world just to hear you say that every day. Luckily, the ring on your finger was all you wanted.

#laventon x reader #professor laventon x reader #pokemon imagines #pokemon x reader #strong feelings for him today

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thebroccolination · 1 year

Note

Question…. How do you feel about Win Hitting Team in the face after he saves him?

I wasn’t a fan of that part and I don’t know if I’m comfortable seeing it on screen. I know it’s a mix of emotions he angry, nearly lost him, but ……. I don’t know. Hope you understand .

I understand, Anon! It's a polarizing scene, and people don't need to have a unanimous opinion of it.

I personally really liked it in the novel! It was a moment of raw anger and flawed humanity from a character who's been composed and responsible ever since he got through a rebellious phase that mainly consisted of skipping class and body modification to get attention from his parents. Literally the tamest rebellion in teenage history. The punch is also framed as a mistake, and something he clearly feels guilty about almost immediately, since he then yanks Team into a hug. The novel describes Win as shaking like a frightened animal, which just underscores for me how primally terrified he was. After all, he was alone when he walked into the building and saw Team at the bottom of the pool, probably seconds from death. If Win hadn't acted as fast as he did, he would have had to watch Team die.

And Team put Win in that position through his negligence. Even worse, Team doesn't even have the grace to even act apologetically after he regains consciousness. He's dismissive and almost petulant, and while that's his whole thing, it's just not the time for it. Of course, Team's clearly suffering from a host of mental traumas, so it makes sense for him to diminish nearly dying, but from Win's perspective, he's probably imagining previously unthinkable things: would CPR and potentially breaking a rib have killed him instead? Who do you call to take a corpse? How would he ever swim again? Sleep again? I'm not arguing the punch was deserved, only that Win's so far removed from rationality at that point, he's just trying to get Team to understand the severity of the situation they're in.

Imagine how Win feels seeing Team shrug off his near-death. That could easily make Win believe that this could happen again. If Team doesn't value his life, if he takes risks like this again, if Win's not there the next time, if he doesn't take this seriously—

Anyway, that's why it worked for me. Plus, after the punch, after the hug, Win takes Team not back to the dorms, not even to his own dorm room, but to his own family's home. Win drives Team's car, stops at a convenience store to get ice for Team's face and snacks for him as a treat, literally feeds him at home, lets Team shower on his own to respect his space, and at the end of it all, he falls asleep with Team safe in his arms. Because this is who he is at his core. He's the one who talks Team down from intimidating Alex, and he's the one who gives rational advice to Dean. So I like that the novel shows that the only way to make him lose it completely is Team dismissing his own brush with death. Is it romantic? No, of course not. Is it healthy? Also, no. But I don't want a character to make the right choices every step of the way. Their mistakes and how they try to make up for them enhance their complexity for me. I mean, if Win were a real person, I'd be like, "He punched you?" but he's fictional, so I just see that scene as fascinating to explore his mentality instead.

ALL THAT BEING SAID, it works for me because it's that version of Win.

The Win we've seen in the series isn't the same Win we see in the novel. Boun made the decision in December of last year while they were filming the post-drowning scene for the pilot teaser for Win not to punch Team, and it works so well. Because it's Boun's version of Win. Novel Win didn't have a meticulous, restrained conversation about consent with Team before he slept with him the first time. Novel Win didn't even hook up with Team a second time. There are a lot of overlaps with Novel Win and Series Win, and they're both written by LazySheep, but Hemp Rope is a novel she started around 2017, and she had to take her time and a lot of consideration to adapt the novel into a script with 2022 sensibilities and growth.

So I think Boun was right to change it because he knows what this version of Win would do. And I think it says a lot in favor of Sheep and New that they saw the wisdom in his decision and allowed him to do so for the main series as well. (They show him raise his fist but switch to a hug in the trailer, just like the pilot teaser.) When directors understand and value the input of their actors, I'm always deeply impressed and appreciative. Collaborative art can be some of the most powerful, and I think Boun was incredibly smart to show that Win did have the impulse but decided against it. I think that's just as powerful for this version of him.

Essentially, I appreciate the novel scene for what it is, and I like that the series has presented a different version of it with unique nuances influenced by an actor who loves his character tremendously. <3

#kiranokira answers #win phawin wanichakarnjonkul #between us #between us the series

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rosethornewrites · 4 months

Text

A long time ago (2008) I lived in California while getting my MFA, and of course Prop 8 happened. It was ugly.

For those who don't know. Prop 8 was put on the California ballot after same-sex marriage was legalized, to illegalize it again. It was worded weirdly and up to the election and after was a really ugly time, and when it passed it was like a pall was cast over the queer population. Everyone was cheering Obama's win, but Prop 8 had passed, too, and that made it hard to celebrate.

Ultimately the CA Supreme Court struck it down because it created two classes of queer people: those who were able to marry in the time it was legal, and those who could not marry, which was unconstitutional.

At the time I was regularly attending a church service for the queer population, which I'd become aware of at Pride that year, and post-election it was just us grieving and coming together to support each other. We spent the entire election season huddling together for fear it would pass, and engaging in activism and protest.

A married lesbian couple I knew woke up (pre-election) to find that their lawn was covered in Yes on 8 signs, and they tore them down and set the pile on fire in the center of their driveway (the signs were plastic but they were too upset to care; their kids woke up to see the sea of hate on their own lawn). One of their neighbors had done it, and another neighbor let them know who it was.

There were regularly picketing Yes on 8 protestors (including kids) at nearly every corner, encouraged by the LDS to do so, all weekend long, like a constant caravan of hate.

I visited a friend/classmate who was Mormon (but not a bigot) and her roommate came home and started ranting about a car that had a sign that Yes on 8 was bigotry. It was my car and I said so, and she turned beet red and retreated to her room. She didn't have the courage to keep talking shit TO me.

The Catholic church removed a popular priest from the church just off campus because he said Prop 8 did not jive with the universal love of Christ. He became a symbol of the movement against Prop 8.

I hand-made a sign for a protest against Prop 8 he headed after it passed that read "Marriage is about love, not genitalia" and I made it into the local paper (with my back turned).

On my way to said protest, I was wearing a pride flag shirt that asked "When can I vote on YOUR marriage?" and I stopped at a Starbucks for caffeine. A large man decided to stand super close and growl "Never" in an attempt to intimidate me, then left in fury when I laughed at him. He was not the first person to try to intimidate me, nor was he the last.

Sometimes I wonder if young queer folks know just how bad it was a mere 15 years ago, and if they understand how terrifying it is to hear the rhetoric by bigots who intend to strip our rights or worse.

I don't know why I'm remembering this just now. Maybe because Trump won Iowa and we all know his plans.

#queer history #same sex marriage #proposition 8 #lgbtq rights #lgbtq community #lgbtq+

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iwillgiveyoumyhappiness · 2 years

Text

Sincerely, Your Fellow Choi

@yyxgin Happy birthday, my beloved! I know this is way too late to be justifiable, and I have no real excuse. Just life and oversights, but never once do I want you to think I forgot about celebrating your birthday <3 It was literally on the list of things I most wanted to do this year—celebrate an amazing friend like you. So I hope you enjoy!

April 16th, Saturday 11:55 PM

For the past couple of weeks, I've been getting an email every Sunday at 12AM exactly, like it's scheduled.

Taehyun kept telling me not to open them 'cause they could be viruses, but I'm dumb (as he likes to playfully remind me), so I didn't listen to him.

I opened one a few weeks ago, which led to opening all the ones I'd received up to that point. And now I'm sitting here, anxiously scrawling down whatever I can while waiting for the next one to show up. My leg is shaking like crazy.

They weren't spam like I originally thought. They're very well thought-out and written with love. Each email is an instruction manual of how to fall in love with (Y/F/N).

I wouldn't say we're friends, but we know each other from high school (which is something I've tried to leave far, far behind me), and we talk sometimes.

We have one or two overlapping classes, but we're not lunch buddies by any means necessary. She's nice enough. I remember her making chocolates for me once for a school-wide Secret Santa thing we did.

They were pretty good. Nothing to write home about, though.

But for some reason, someone out there who signs off all their emails with the phrase "sincerely, your fellow Choi", seems to want me to think that she's got a massive crush on me and we're a match made in heaven.

At first, I thought it was silly—maybe a prank from one of her friends or something. But y'know how you just get vibes sometimes? It just feels too absurd not to be true.

I'm not saying I've fallen for her just because of a few emails, but I am saying I've learned a lot about her through these email, and I can't really tell if that's creepy or not.

How is it that I've never once noticed her before reading these emails? She's been walking in and out of my life for well over 6 years, yet I've never given her a second thought.

She was always just there, doing her own thing. She had her friends, and I had mine—if you could really call them that. None of them cared enough to keep in touch with me after high school.

I don't know why this random Choi is trying to get me interested in this girl from a past that I'm trying to forget, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't working.

Oh! Hold up.

The new email just came. Gotta go—I'll try to write more tomorrow.

April 18th, Monday 10:31 PM

Okay, so obviously, I forgot to write more yesterday. My bad. But no one's ever gonna see this anyway, so it's okay.

This works out though, 'cause I did something kinda crazy today. I decided to join the art club, 'cause (Y/N)'s a part of it. Taehyun thinks I'm insane, and Kai kindly reminded me that I can barely draw a stick figure, but I think this will be good for me in the long-run.

I can get closer to her in my own time, and I can see what she's actually like—not just what the emails want me to believe.

And maybe I can finally face high school again in a new light. Maybe now that I'm an adult, I won't be so scared.

April 19th, Tuesday 6:22 PM

Art is way harder than expected. I thought I'd pick it up pretty fast, but nah. I was wrong. This looks like chicken scratch.

On the upside, I talked to (Y/N) today. She could tell I was struggling, so she scooched over and whispered some shading tips while the team leader went over the assignment. She even offered to give me some drawing lessons on the weekends.

She didn't ask why I joined an art club, even though I'm a terrible artist.

It was nice. She was nice.

And she wasn't like how I remembered. I remembered someone more rambunctious and self-assured, and I guess that's why she always intimidated me.

Not to say she's not self-assured now, just more quiet about it. I can't tell if she's grown up, or if she's changed.

I also can't figure out why I haven't done either of those things yet.

April 23th, Saturday 3:00 PM

I had my first drawing lesson with (Y/N) today. She's such a good artist—it's kind of scary.

The emails keep talking about this hidden crush she's got on me, but I don't know if I fully believe it. I don't think I make her nervous at all.

She just smiles and talks and hums while she sketches. I don't seem to have an affect on her. She's just nice to me, like she is to everyone else.

And for some reason, that upsets me. The emails have been so accurate about everything else—her favorite colors, her hobbies, her favorite song, her allergies—yet it feels like they got her feelings for me all wrong.

I don't know why I'm upset about this. I've already told myself I'm not catching feelings, just seeing for myself what all the fuss is about. But still... I'm a little disappointed.

I guess I just expected more.

May 24th, Tuesday 8:01 PM

Wow, I kinda forgot about this. It's been a while since my last entry, but don't worry—it's for a good reason. (Y/N) and I have actually been hanging out a lot these days, and it's been fun.

Most of the time, it's for club things or art lessons, but sometimes we walk to class together or grab some coffee. And remember how I said we weren't lunch buddies? Well, we are now.

And we get along pretty well! She's funny. And I'm starting to think the crush thing might be more accurate than I thought.

I don't have any solid proof, but sometimes I swear I can feel her staring at me when she thinks I'm not paying attention. And she's always respectful of my personal bubble, yet tries to sit as close to me as possible without touching.

Maybe I'm reading too much into it, or maybe it's my man brain trying to convince me, "oh yeah, dude. She's for sure into you", but either way, I'm kinda hoping I'm right.

In these few weeks I've spent truly noticing her and having her in the forefront of my life instead of on the sidelines, I've realized that I wouldn't hate it if she had a crush on me.

In fact, I'd be honored. She's cool.

May 30th, Monday 7:45 AM

This is gonna be a short entry 'cause I'm already late for class, but I just had to jot this down real quick in case I forget.

I think I figured out who the 'fellow Choi' is. The emails reminded me that (Y/N)'s close to that jock guy, Choi Yeonjun. They've been friends and neighbors since they were little, and he went to the same high school as us, just a year ahead.

I vaguely remember him as one of the hooligans she used to skateboard around with, but the memory's fuzzy.

I've seen them hanging out before, but I didn't realize they were that tight. If there's anyone who would know that much about her, it'd be him. I'm gonna confront him tomorrow, so we'll see what happens.

May 31st, Tuesday 5:53 PM

Yeah, so that whole confronting thing? It didn't go so well. I now have confirmation that he's not the fellow Choi, but I also have a bloody nose, so I don't know if I've accomplished anything.

It was a real 'one step forward, two steps back' kind of situation. From what I've seen of him around campus, he seems like a very chill, friendly guy, and you can tell he cares for (Y/N) like a brother.

So you can imagine my surprise when I said 'hi' and his first reaction was to grab me by the collar, shove me against a brick wall, and sock me in the nose.

What I hate most was the eyes it attracted. I just know there's gonna be rumors about us fighting for (Y/N)'s hand or some crap.

All in all, something tells me he doesn't like me. He told me to stay away from (Y/N) if I didn't have the 'right intentions'.

His exact words were, "The Chois in her life have already given her enough shit, and if you add on to that, I swear to God, I'll break so much more than your nose."

It was definitely a change from the guy I'd seen ruffling (Y/N)'s hair and giving her noogies while complimenting her latest artwork and calling her a nerd.

I'm scared and angry, for sure, but also just confused. I feel like there's more to this story that I'm not getting or hasn't been revealed to me yet. I feel left behind.

And also, I wish he'd been more clear as he threatened me. What are my intentions supposed to be?

'Cause I think I'm falling for her. And if that's not Choi Yeonjun approved, how am I just supposed to just stop these feelings from growing?

Would it even be possible at this point?

June 2nd, Thursday 9:10 PM

I emailed back the fellow Choi the other day. I wanted to see if they knew what I did to hurt (Y/N) and Yeonjun in the past.

They never answered.

June 13th, Monday 11:11 AM

(Y/N) made Yeonjun apologize to me. Not gonna lie, it was a little gratifying to see that tough guy all humbled and grumbly while she glared up at him and demanded an apology.

All-in-all, even though it was forced, he seemed pretty genuine. He even asked how my nose was doing. I told him it wasn't broken, and I think (for the most part) there are no lingering hard feelings between us.

Except for the ones he's hiding from me—the ones that I assume have been there for a long time. And he must've said something to (Y/N), 'cause she's been weird too. Not mean or cold, just distant. Lost in her thoughts, even when we're together.

I wonder if he brought up some memories from the past that she'd forgotten or repressed. I kind of resent him for that a little, 'cause things were going well between us, and now I don't know what to do with my feelings.

They're getting too strong to keep inside, but would it be insensitive to confess now? I don't even know anymore. I'm so confused.

More than anything, I just wanna know what I did. I must've been either really self-absorbed or incredibly insecure in high school, because I'm coming to realize that I never really noticed anyone.

It was always just me in my little bubble, and even with my friends, I never let them get too close. As I'm writing this, I also kinda realize that I'm the only person stopping myself from making genuine connections with others.

And that pretty much decides it for me. I'm gonna confess to her this weekend—just you watch.

June 19th, Sunday 10:30 PM

Today might be one of my favorite days ever. I spent the whole day with (Y/N), and for the first time in a while, it didn't feel awkward.

I would kind of consider this our first date. We went out for breakfast, then we talked for hours and realized, "Oh, we should probably get lunch." And after lunch, we didn't wanna say goodbye, so we decided to go for a walk. "Work off the calories," she said.

By that time, we were hungry again, so she invited me to her dorm for an improvised snack dinner. It certainly wasn't gourmet, but it was tasty, and it was fun to make it together.

She looked so pretty. She didn't even do anything special—she just looked nice. So I told her. Then one thing led to another, and I was rambling and going on and on, and then I finally got it out.

Those three words I'd been trying to spit out all day. "I like you."

And guess what? She likes me too. She actually, genuinely likes me. And before I left, you know that she did? She gave me a kiss on the hand.

Not on the cheek, not on the lips, but on my hand. I've never gotten butterflies like that before. It's so weird to think that now... I have a girlfriend. It's wild.

It was really cool seeing her place, too. I remembered her skateboarding back in high school (hard to forget with the emails proudly remind me every five seconds), but she actually has medals and stuff from competitions she entered in with her old team.

Yeonjun was on that team too, apparently. She had a framed picture of them proudly showing off their second place trophy with their arms slung over each other's shoulders.

Cute picture. A little small for the frame, though. Maybe I should get her a new one.

July 10th, Sunday 12:15 AM

I think I just got the last email. It felt ominous, like a permanent goodbye. "I can't have her back anymore, so I'm leaving it up to you. If you haven't fallen for her at this point, please at least just be her friend. I'm sure Yeonjun's all she's got. Be good to her."

And as always, signed off with that 'sincerely, your fellow Choi'. I'm not sure why, but when I read it this time, I got goosebumps all over my body.

It was like I'd been talking to a ghost. They were there, and then they were gone—like a cool breeze or a puff of smoke.

It feels empty.

September 3rd, Saturday 9:45 PM

(Y/N) got mad at me for the first time today. We were doing some studying at her place, and I was admiring the pictures and medals on her wall while she was in the bathroom.

But I'm a klutz, so of course, I ended up knocking something over. It was that framed picture of her and Yeonjun. The glass shattered and the back fell out, and I swear I felt my heart drop into my stomach.

All I could think was 'shit, shit, I just broke the important thing', and like a little kid, my first thought was to get rid of the evidence.

Now, realistically, there was nothing I could do about the glass in such a short time, but I thought if I could just pop the panel back on and make sure the framing wasn't damaged...

But that's when I noticed the picture, slightly peeking out from the broken frame. It was too small because it had been folded.

I wasn't trying to pry. I wasn't trying to look at it.

But it was there, unfolded right in front of me. And I could see that in the previously folded up corner, (Y/N) had her arm wrapped another guy. A guy with longish black hair, his nose scrunched up by a big, toothy grin, and a skateboard pinned under his arm.

The three of them looked so happy together. A perfect little trio. And when I looked at the guy, I couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity.

When (Y/N) finally came out, she blew up at me. I couldn't tell if it was because of the fact that I broke her frame, or because I saw the other half of that picture.

Now, (Y/N)'s not a petty person, so if I had to guess... I'd say it was the latter. I wanna know who he is. I wanna know why he feels so familiar. And I wanna know why he hurts her so much.

So much so that she would fold him out of a picture, but not find it within herself too throw it away.

But I'm dumb, so I didn't say any of those things. We just argued. I stormed out.

I regret it.

September 7th, Wednesday 4:32 PM

We've made up. That's what we say, anyway. But it's awkward, with just a hint of tension.

I've tried talking it out with her, asking about that guy, but she says she doesn't want to talk about it.

I'm not experienced enough for this. I don't know what's right. I don't know when to push and when to let it lie.

I'm scared to mess this up.

Soobin laid dead asleep in his room, disturbed by an incessant tap-tap-tap.

With a groan, he rolled over in bed, flipping on his bedside lamp and instinctively checking the time on his phone. Two in the morning. He groaned again as the tapping only became more insistent.

In his bleary daze, he managed to glance at the window, doing a double-take as he saw a shadowy figure outside of it. His eyes widened, pulling the sheets up and over his nose as slowly as possible. The tapping stopped, and he could’ve sworn he saw the figure sigh.

Moments later, his phone buzzed with a notification.

“It’s me, coward,” the notification read.

With a start, he jumped up, swinging his window open with expert speed, successfully shocking the person on the other side of the glass. “(Y/N)!” he gasped, grabbing her wrists and pulling her back towards him as she lost her balance.

He reared backward, pulling her into the room and landing them both on the bed with a thump, Soobin splayed flat on his back and (Y/N) nestled somewhat comfortably into his shoulder. “What were you doing on the roof, you idiot?” he asked, hands instinctively going to rub up and down her back.

“I didn’t wanna wake your roommates...” she said sheepishly. “They probably heard me scream, though.”

Soobin shook his head, biting back the chuckle that rose in his throat. “Nah, don’t worry too much,” he said. “They sleep like rocks.” He took a moment to bask in the silence between them. This was the most carefree they’d been together in a while. “So what brings you here this cold evening?”

She propped herself up a little, examining his face with a hint of something in her eyes. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but maybe guilt? She cupped his cheek.

“Have I ever told you why I like you?” she asked softly. Soobin only shook his head. “It’s ‘cause you care so much more than you think you do. You’re so humble, and you always underestimate yourself, but you’re the coolest, most kindest guy out there.” He felt butterflies whirl up in his stomach like the first time she kissed his hand. “I just needed to tell you that.”

Soobin could feel himself tearing up, but he willed himself to suck it in. “Well... Thank you,” he said. He wanted to say anything else. He wanted to list all the reasons he liked her and how he’d started finding peace and self-acceptance through her, but no words came out—like a blubbering fish out of water.

“Can I introduce you to someone?” (Y/N) asked, seemingly to instinctively know that he wouldn’t be able to get anything out.

Soobin blinked in confusion. “What, like... right now?” he asked.

She nodded. “If we don’t do this now, I’m worried I’ll get too scared again.”

Now, he could give a million viable excuses on why he couldn’t go. He’s tired, he has early morning classes, it’s nearly freezing—but none of that mattered. He wanted to do whatever she wanted to do.

It’d easily been an hour, and they were only getting further from the familiar territory of their campus grounds. Soobin could feel himself dozing off again, but he urged himself not to. Even if he felt like shit in the morning, he was gonna stay awake for this.

“Where are we goin’?” he asked from the passenger seat of (Y/N)’s dumpy old car that stubbornly refused not to die, like a spiteful great-aunt.

“We’re almost there,” she said cryptically, gripping the steering wheel ever so slightly tighter. “Just give it a sec. It’s on the left.”

Soobin blinked hard and mussed up his hair, trying to make himself more presentable. He was still in his pajamas, so the least he could do would be to look awake. He glance at all the signs as they passed by buildings, each one of them not likely to be their stop.

When she finally slowed down and flicked on her blinker, Soobin’s heart dropped, the words ‘columbarium’ staring him in the face like the barrel of a gun. “(Y/N)—” he started.

She shook her head. “Don’t say anything yet,” she instructed gently. “Just wait till we get inside.” She took a pause while she put the car in park. “And hold my hand. I haven’t been here in a while.”

With her hand tightly grasped in his and the car locked behind them, they made their way into the building. Already, it was a sad, humbling atmosphere—seeing all the urns, photos, bouquets, and letters from family pinned up on the wall. There was so much love and sorrow, all contained in one place.

Finally, (Y/N) stopped in front of one specific niche. ”Meet Beomgyu,” she said, a slight tremor in her voice. “One of my best friends, and your fellow Choi.” In the picture frame behind the cage of glass stood a very familiar boy with longish black hair, a toothy grin, and a crinkled nose.

Soobin looked at her with wide eyes. “How did you—?”

“You left your diary at my place,” she said. “I’m sorry I was nosy, but I couldn’t help but read it. And by doing that, I realized how much I’ve been making you suffer on your own, and I’m so sorry.” She gripped his hand tighter, making eye contact with him. “Will you forgive me?”

His heart ached. “There’s nothing to forgive, honestly...” he said, voice barely above a whisper. It felt rude to speak any louder in a place full of the deceased.

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, y’know,” she said. “It’s not a fair relationship if we’re always walking on eggshells around each other. So I’ll share some of my scars with you tonight, and you can share yours when you’re ready. I might not get all your questions answered, but I'll start.”

He felt his chest tighten. He couldn’t help but feel grateful to Choi Beomgyu for leading him to such a great girl.

He nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I promise I'll do the same for you later.” He looked back at Beomgyu’s picture. The longer he looked at it, the more bits and pieces of memories from high school came flooding back in.

(Y/N), Yeonjun, and Beomgyu. The kids who always rode into school on their skateboards, zooming past everyone on the way through the front gates while laughing and shouting jokes at each other. Soobin was pretty separate from their friend group, but out of all of them, he was most familiar with Beomgyu.

He was the class clown. Everyone loved him, and he loved making everyone laugh—even at his own expense. Yeonjun was always the one to back him up with a smile on his face, even when he called him a dumbass. And (Y/N) was always the one following quietly behind them, cleaning up thier messes.

But she never seemed to mind. She didn’t even care that as they walked down the halls, people would call out “Hey, Beomgyu!” or “Hey, Yeonjun!”, but no one ever called out for her.

“Tell me about him,” Soobin said.

She took a deep breath. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“How’d you become friends?”

She cracked a little smile, though he could still see the pain lacing it from the scabbed over wound on her heart that had yet to fully heal. “Yeonjun and Beomgyu were nextdoor neighbors, I lived across the street,” she said. “Their mom’s were best friends, and I moved to the neighborhood with my folks later on. Y’know how moms always want you be comfortable and have friends you can count on?”

Soobin chuckled. “For sure,” he said. “Even if I got a terrible report card, my mom’s first instinct was still to scold me on how I didn’t put in enough effort to make friends.”

“My mom was the same,” she said. “So about a week after we moved in, she said, ‘C’mon! Let’s go say hi to the neighbors’ sons!’ I was shy and I didn’t wanna go, but God, am I glad I did. They were both at Beomgyu's place, and as soon as I got through the front door, they dragged me upstairs to play Mario Kart and then outside to shoot each other with nerf guns.”

Her smile grew, more genuine this time. “I didn’t have time to be nervous, not with their hyper-active asses. From that point on, we basically grew up together. They were like my big brothers. Whatever they did, I wanted to do it too. That’s why I started skating, y’know.”

“Now, Beomgyu... I don’t even know how to describe him. He was like a whirlwind, y’know? He was crazy, confident, a little overzealous at times, but sweet. He always remembered the little things about you, and even though his loudness could be a little annoying at first, once he went quiet with you, you felt like something was missing."

She sighed through her nose. "I miss his voice," she said rawly, as if she hadn't allowed herself to admit that for the past couple of years.

“The three of us went through life, did everything together, talked about how we were gonna get matching tattoos once we graduated, and then one day, we were all skating—practicing for a competition, actually—and Beomgyu fell.” Her voice grew quieter at the end.

“Beomgyu never fell. He said he felt dizzy and his head hurt. We thought he must’ve hit it on the way down, so we rushed him off the the hospital—a bunch of scared teenagers. And that’s where they discovered it. A weird hybrid type of acute myeloid leukemia.”

Soobin squeezed her hand tighter. She appreciated it. “Most people live at least 5 years after being diagnosed, but Beomgyu didn’t have that time. It was too late and too developed. He had a little under a year.”

Soobin’s heart ached. No wonder it was painful memory. She lost her best friend when she was just a kid. “That must’ve been awful for you,” he whispered, stepping a little closer to her, just to let her feel his warmth.

“It was,” she agreed softly. “What’s worse though is that I spent those last 6 months lying straight to his face.”

Soobin gave her a questioning look.

“Yeonjun cornered me one day. Told me that Beomgyu had been in love with me for a few years, but I never even noticed,” she said. In Soobin’s head, that made sense. And it explained the affection behind the emails’ tone. “And he never confessed ‘cause he didn’t wanna mess up our friendship, and then he thought he’d lost his shot, ‘cause I started crushing on you.”

“But Yeonjun looked me straight in the eyes as we stood by a vending machine in the hospital at almost 11:30 one night and said, ‘Beomgyu’s gonna confess to you tonight. Please accept him’.”

She let out a dry laugh at the memory. “I didn’t know what to say. It’s not that I was disgusted by the thought of being with him or that I was particularly hung up on you—I just thought you were cute at that point—but I just didn’t feel... anything. No sparks. And that’s not how love’s supposed to be.”

“So I though I’d turn him down gently,” she continued. “Knowing Beomgyu, I thought he’d be happy to just get it off his chest, and then we could spend his last few months as we always had. The unbeatable trio.”

She leaned her head on Soobin’s shoulder, feeling drained and tired. “But when I got into his room, he’d prepared flowers, and balloons, and a handwritten letter, and a big romantic speech, and I just...

She nuzzled closer into his shoulder. "I didn’t have the heart. He’d never had a girlfriend before, and I couldn’t help but feel like it was all my fault. Maybe he was waiting for me and I just never got to that point. So I accepted him. I’ve never seen him look so relieved. He almost cried.”

“So I went six months... Pretending to be in love with him. But I think he knew. I think he knew my heart wasn’t in it, and that’s what made it even worse. He would apologize all the time with that sad smile on his face, and it just made me feel even worse.”

“So I tried harder to be a good girlfriend, made myself feel even worse, argued with Yeonjun all the time ‘cause I felt like he was only thinking about Beomgyu, and overall, I just screwed everything up. He had less than a year left with us and I wasted it lying to him. I didn’t even do it well. It all felt pointless.”

“Especially when I knew for sure he knew. He told me he was gonna repay me someday for helping him live out his short dream, even though it was hard for me. I guess he held up his end.”

She looked up, meeting eyes with Soobin, his dark orbs damp with sympathy. “He gave me you, the crazy bastard. Guess he knew five years would probably be enough for me not to totally hate myself anymore,” she chuckled. “That way, I could love properly again.”

She looked back at the niche, staring intently at Beomgyu’s portrait, as well as the smaller pictures laid out around it. Pretty much all of them had herself and Yeonjun inside of them, right next to Beomgyu and his dopey grin.

“He never let me kiss him,” she said. “I tried, but he never let me. He always joked and said ‘cooties’, but I know it’s ‘cause he didn’t want me to waste my first kiss on a lie. He was good like that.”

Without him realizing it, Soobin had started crying. Not a harsh sob or a broken whimper, just thick tears pouring out of his stinging, red eyes. He couldn’t tell if he was saddened by the story or thankful for the gesture.

Wordlessly, he faced the niche, giving a deep bow. “Thank you,” he whispered, “for giving me your best friend. I can tell how much you love her.”

In that moment, the air changed. It felt warmer.

Maybe somewhere out there, in a different timeline or dimension, Beomgyu was flashing his dopey smile, happy that another one of his hair-brained schemes worked out.

#kpop #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop angst #kpop drabbles #kpopidol #txt #tomorrow x together #soobin #choi soobin #beomgyu #choi beomgyu

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cappurrccino · 1 year

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I posted 6,517 times in 2022

That's 573 more posts than 2021!

1,148 posts created (18%)

5,369 posts reblogged (82%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@rukafais

@soothinghymn

@warlordfelwinter

@wingedarrows

@xivu-arath

I tagged 4,821 of my posts in 2022

Only 26% of my posts had no tags

#//juri speaks - 1,265 posts

#juri's ffxiv - 421 posts

#the magnus archives - 346 posts

#ffxiv - 184 posts

#ffxiv: hw - 172 posts

#magnus archives - 152 posts

#hollow knight - 115 posts

#oc: lemon - 107 posts

#juri's grad school adventures - 100 posts

#malevolent podcast - 94 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i won with a little help from a cheater npc (but it was getting late and i think if he hadn't helped we'd still be there for 3 hrs yet lol)

My Top Posts in 2022:

G O D quincey trying to shoot dracula is even better than i expected bc this motherfucker just. Says Nothing. he just steps out of the conversation, leaves the room, goes outside, and shoots the goddamn window out, and only then is like “O SHIT, hang on, sorry guys, i’ll come explain myself”

10/10, very texan of him

302 notes - Posted October 1, 2022

started thinking something along the lines of "aw, what's wrong with me that i feel bad for unsubscribing from company emails" but then i remembered sitting in on a marketing meeting during my internship and listening to them proudly talk about how they use like. behavioral psychology to figure out how best to manipulate people into using their services and i feel much less like there's something wrong with me now

304 notes - Posted November 30, 2022

watching venom is fun bc absolutely nothing I osmsed from tumblr has been correct yet sgdkfgsjd

423 notes - Posted November 2, 2022

maybe it's just bc im an adult with other things to do, or maybe I have too many interests, but I think my problem with a lot of modern games is that like... you know how every professor seems to think their class is your only class and heaps work on you accordingly? except you're taking multiple classes and have no time left?

it's kinda like that. So Many Games seem to be built with the idea that like. this is and will always be your Only Game, so it's built to be huge and grindy and take hundreds of hours to complete, and I feel like really all it does is make it unreplayable or too intimidating to start if you have other things going on in your life (which everyone does)

like... I'd like to replay DA:I a couple times to see what it's like as different characters with different choices but I think my first playthrough took nearly 200h, and sure, I could skip sidequests, but what if they're different? what if they impact the end of the story?

or hzd! I didn't get very far into the game bc I thought I had made decent progress until I realized the map zoomed out and I'd uncovered maybe 5% of it and I knew it would be another game that needs a massive investment

idk man, I just miss the days of like. halo reach and halo 4 and portal and the other 360 games I have that I played dozens of times, over and over and over, bc they told their story and didn't take a hundred hours of resource gathering to do so

1,991 notes - Posted January 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

ryan: [trying desperately to ask a ghost questions]

ghost: BEEFCAKE

ghost: VACCINE

ghost: WHAT'RE YOUR THOUGHTS

ryan: 🤨

4,100 notes - Posted September 23, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #i need to figure out what the FUCK that longest tag is in reference to bc i have. no idea #and i am SO glad that beefcake vaccine is my top post #and that malevolent made it into my top 10 tags in. a month? two?

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spammerjammer · 1 year

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TBH I don't think any followers on my bigger blogs want to know anything about me, which is fine. They're there for my fics and content, and I love to make that stuff for them. I do feel like I can't write certain things though because it'll be too self-referential. On one hand, I want my writing to be accessible and understandable to a general audience. But on the other hand, I'd love to write a super detailed fic involving things I research or just my life experiences. I feel like these experiences I've had would make my writing super niche because not many people can describe first-hand accounts of things I've dealt with. They're dark and gritty and wild stories, but I love them all the same. I just don't think others would see the good in those experiences, and I don't want to subject people to reading that kind of thing. I've thought about writing a book or something, but I don't feel important enough. Like, who am I to write a memoir at my young age? Seems pretentious as hell. I just want to reflect on stuff here, since my more popular blogs aren't going to take it very well. With all that said, I'll get to my first story.

Ever since I was a little girl, my father was explosive. He was sweet and kind and doting, until he wasn't. He'd be the perfect father until something didn't go his way. Then he'd scream in my face, break furniture, and throw a fit. This was my first experience with men. I thought it was normal for men to behave this way. For 13 years of my life, I expected every man to be like my father.

Until, one day, I went to a self-defense class. It was taekwondo and Brazilian jiu jitsu taught by an ex-mil Argentinian man. He showed me how men try to intimidate women because they're easy targets of abuse. He showed me that it was unacceptable for men to use their size and strength to bend women to their will. He showed me what acceptable relationships looked like between an adult and a child, as well as between a man and a woman. Every woman taught by him couldn't leave his class until they could perform the technique of the night perfectly. Over and over again. He'd remind us that men wouldn't show us mercy and would try to use their strength to force us into submission.

It's strange, but watching "The Last of Us" made me realize that this man was the father figure I needed. He taught me to respect myself, recognize abuse, and never let myself be intimidated by a man. It all culminated years ago when my father had broken out in a full screaming match with me. It resulted in him ditching our family, threatening to divorce my mother unless I apologized. The argument was centered around my "liberal beliefs" (he was being radicalized by N4z1s and went completely crazy, threatening to pull me out of school). Except, unlike before, I didn't back down from his tantrum. I didn't let him intimidate me, even as he spat in my face. I looked him right in the eye at 16 years old and told him to go fuck himself. Not only did I recognize his attempt to intimidate me as abuse, but I didn't fear him anymore. I was angry, not afraid. I knew I could die in that moment, but I didn't care. I was just so angry, I couldn't take him abusing me and my mom anymore.

When he tried to return, he used his usual tactics. Never apologizing, just showering me with gifts. I refused them all. He wouldn't talk to me directly, instead pressuring my mom by threatening divorce and refusing to return to a 'disobedient household'. I held my ground. And eventually, my father reflected on everything he had done. He went to therapy and anger management classes, finally apologizing to me and my mother. He admitted to everything he had done and promised to do right by us moving forward. And he did. And none of it ever would've happened without this one man that came into my life.

He truly changed my life, and by extension, my family's lives. I don't know how to tell him how grateful I am for what he did for me. I haven't seen him in a long time, but I know where he is. I just don't know how to tell him all of this in a concise way because he had such a profound effect on my life. He made me strong. He showed me what good men do. I can't imagine what my life would've turned out like without him. He will always be my dad, the man that gave me something to believe in. He's the sole reason I have a father at all today.

Thank you.

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enby-maniac · 3 years

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Thanks, Dad.

A simple slip of tongue can result in acquisition of father figures when one combines savage friends and supportive homeroom teachers.

Your hands start to sweat a little as you wait for your result. The test your homeroom teacher had given you yesterday hadn't been particularly hard. But, after a bit of questioning, you had realized that most of your answers didn't match with the others. So, you had spent the last day in a pit of despair, trying to prepare yourself for the punishment you would receive. Aizawa-sensei gives Kirishima a sharp glare before asking him to come to the staff room after the end of the day, and you flash a brief amused smile as you watch the redhead's soul leave his body.

You're pretty sure the raven head uses this method of distributing the papers as an intimidation tactic. The corner of your lips quivers when you meet intense onyx eyes. Your teacher comes to stand by your desk before fishing out your paper from the bundle. He puts the sheet on your desk with a little more force than necessary, and you can already feel your own soul trying to follow Kirishima's. "Good job, Y/N," the man beside your desk says, and you take a moment to revel in the praise before glancing at the quiz sheet to find you've scored full marks.

"Thanks, Dad," you sigh, and your classmates go rigid at the sound of the words that fall from your mouth. You expect the teacher to move forward to give Satou his paper, but he stops in his tracks. When you realize that everyone has frozen in their place, you glance up from your marked sheet to find every pair of eyes on you. Feeling a little prickly, you meet the adult's gaze and ask, "What?"

The answer to your question comes from the explosive blonde. Bakugo Katsuki (your childhood friend, your confidant), the fucking traitor, grins menacingly and replies, "You just called the old man 'Dad'. You said, 'Thanks, Dad.'"

"Do you sensei as a father figure?" Mina asks with a conspiratorial smirk, and you can't believe you actually choose to hang out with these assholes. Whatever happened to loyalty and support?

"No, I don't," you answer, and if your response is a little too quick and words a little too defensive, it's no one's business. "I said, 'Thanks, man.' If anything, I see him as a bother figure because he's always bothering me."

The Bakusquad, except Katsuki, gasps in mock outrage. And, at this point, you don't even know what you ever saw in these idiots to become friends with them. And just because it's your lucky day Iida, of all people, joins in the teasing. He stands straight, swivels in your direction and with his customary wild hand gesticulations proclaims, "Hey! Show your father some respect!"

The sound of your forehead hitting the table resounds in the class, and giggles and sniggers follow. You feel two rough yet gentle pats on your head, and Aizawa-sensei's gravelly voice cuts through the laughter. "I take it as a compliment. You want to talk about it later over lunch, kid?"

His words sound teasing, but you know that the offer is serious. It takes a short amount of time for you to decide. Glancing at your teacher with your head planted on the table and an eye peeking from the safety of your hands, you bob your head decisively. The students who notice the nod titter. Gathering a little more courage requires time, so you take a moment before speaking up. "Yeah. I'd like that.

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

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@buckyownsmylife hey babe! Remember that one time you threw that cool challenge? Here's my entry. Prepare to get absolutely ruined because daddy!Bruce is exactly that sort of man.

main masterlist ☀️ taglist

emotional support nerd

Your best friend's dad, Dr. Bruce Banner, is hotter than you thought he would be. 6k words, NSFW. Kind of Alt!Reader - she refers to herself as 'goth' in one instance. Tony Stark makes an appearance because God forbid I write a fanfic without him in it.

This is filthy pron, ft. age difference (reader is college aged) daddy kink, throat fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, cream pie, possessiveness, belly bulge and ending with a hint at a threesome. I really crammed all I could from Eyre's wheel in here, didn't I. Oh well.

"How much longer, dad?" Lyra's annoyed voice struck a chord within me. I tried to hide my snickering - unsuccessfully might I add - causing my best friend to shoot me a hurt look, equally fed up with me as she was fed up with her forgetful adopted father. "You know what, we'll take the subway."

Lyra's father's voice, both agitated and apologetic, reached my ears in bitten-off phrases as the traffic noises around us grew in volume, NYC rush hour rapidly approaching its peak.

With a sound huff, Lyra removed the phone from her ear, staring me down with the most amount of petulance I've ever seen on her usually reserved, placid face. "It's twenty more minutes. Apparently he's driving Tony's car," she offered in the way of explanation, like it actually did anything to better the cold, wet situation we found ourselves in. "Please, and I can't stress this enough, please don't be weird."

I felt a flood of amusement at Lyra's pleading tone. "Darling, if you wanted a normal friend, you should have looked elsewhere," I gestured to my outfit. I looked like a goth boy's wet dream: chunky platformed boots, fishnets, heavy eyeliner. Of course, all in black.

"You know what I mean," she whined, waving off my pointing hand and fixing me with a hard stare. "The least my dad needs is someone that is terrified of him just because sometimes he turns into a big green monkey. It's not as exciting as internet thinks, anyway," the last part of the sentence was mumbled but I heard it nonetheless as Lyra stared out into the traffic, clever eyes looking for a particular car model.

What Lyra didn't know was that I was not at all considering to be terrified by the man who dosed himself with radiation and developed an advanced version of split personality disorder. I could be intimidated by him, sure, because he was incredibly intelligent, a world class scientist with more PhDs than I had zeroes in my bank account, but even despite his green problem, Dr. Bruce Banner was about as far away from 'scary' as a man could be.

The few scarce pictures of him on the internet showed a short, stocky man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper curls, always dressed in un-ironed, crumpled button-ups with dorky patterns. Looking at him, I mused that there was a high chance he spoke with a stutter and that fact amused me to no end. Jekyll and Hyde, alright.

Lyra was much the same way. Shy and reclusive, with curly brown hair and doe eyes, she spent a good chunk of her first semester in college being avoided by everybody because of her last name; I, on the other hand, avoided everyone out of habit, I'd never been a social butterfly, but the way people subtly made sure to exclude Lyra from all the activities filled me with quiet, seething rage, and I stepped over my general distaste of people and removed my bag from the seat next to me so Lyra could at least study in relative peace.

Yeah, yeah, you've heard it all, I'm sure. Weird goth chick adopts a socially awkward, shunned nerd and they become best friends forever. I had to admit that under the shy exterior, Lyra was smart, witty and even funny sometimes. She was willing to entertain my crude jokes without moaning, at least, and I was perfectly okay with listening to her rant about science every now and then.

Rain banged on the slanted roof of the café we were hiding in, the autumn wind howled, making both of us shiver at the prospect of having to go outside, even if it was for a short moment to run to Lyra's dad's car. The day had started out warm and sunny, but much like a badly calculated chemical formula, it all went downhill a split second after we had set out to leave campus.

"There he is," the grouch in Lyra's expression had me once again unsuccessfully attempting to conceal my snorting.

Nonetheless, I followed her out into the rain, struggling to keep up with the brisk running in my platformed shoes, unceremoniously crawling into the car behind her without sparing a glance at the driver in my eagerness to get out of the freezing downpour.

"Hi, dad," Lyra's tired voice spoke up at the same time as I angrily shook out my hair.

"I've just about McFuckin' had it with New York," I was afraid the dye in my hair would bleed out into my clothes, or even worse, the nice, cream-colored car seats.

"Hello, ladies," the voice that greeted us was low, gravelly and apologetic to boot.

My eyes shot up, meeting an expression full of surprise and amusement. I stared at the shockingly handsome face of Dr. Bruce Banner like a deer in the headlights.

The fine mimic wrinkles had stretched into a resemblance of a smile, soft, plush lips revealing a set of straight, white teeth. The five o'clock shadow framed his jaw, giving it a sharp, defined edge, his clever brown eyes slid down my form, faltering on the pentagram on my belt and my fishnet-covered legs, settling on my chunky boots before hastily snapping back up to my face.

"Dad, this is..." Lyra's voice was full of suspicious bewilderment as she attempted to dissipate the sudden awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, but you can call me Doc or Bruce," he cleared his throat, turning himself towards the windshield and starting up the car.

"Nice to meet you," I busied myself with putting away any stray hair just to occupy myself with something during the time I needed to recuperate from being just... Looked at by Lyra's dad.

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I was so taken aback by his handsomeness and his aura of a gentle but powerful man that the ride to Stark tower, however swift, went on in slightly awkward silence. The streets outside were, thankfully, noisy, and the lack of an attempt to have a conversation could easily be attributed to Bruce's need to focus on the road, but Lyra's increasingly concerned looks did very little to settle the sudden racing of my heart.

"C'mon, I'll give you some sweats so you can let your..." Lyra's vague gesture towards my upper body disappeared behind her side of the door. "Hey, Tony," she suddenly interrupted her sentence, very obviously addressing another person who I managed to miss as Bruce parked in the spacious garage.

"I've been told you're finally bringing your friend, Green Pea," a voice I'd heard a thousand times on the TV poked fun at Lyra.

She bent down to retrieve her bag, shooting big eyes at me and mouthing an exaggerated "Sorry!"

Tony Stark looked about a week in debt on sleep, a contrast to the way he usually appeared in public. The exaggerated eyebrow raise made me shuffle awkwardly in my spot; the Led Zep tee caught my eyes as I lingered on it, aware of my own Mötorhead top on display. He noticed it too, causing his face leave the snide territory.

"Wow, I didn't expect kids these days to have any resemblance of taste in music but you've surprised me, Corpse Bride," he gave me a quiet wolf-whistle, watching me through lidded eyes.

I felt my eyebrow crawl upwards at his attitude but Bruce spoke up before I could say anything: "Tony, no," so firmly, I had to raise both of my eyebrows. I felt a smile tug at my lips, the situation strikingly familiar in it's essence. Like father, like daughter...

"No," Lyra's identical expression, fond and annoyed, topped up with an accusing finger pointed in my direction had everyone snorting a giggle at the situation.

"Lyra," I whined, just so I could coax her grin that she was very obviously trying to conceal. "See, I told you, every crazy genius needs their emotional support nerd," I fixed her with a pointed look.

She promptly grabbed me by the arm, leading all of us to the elevator as the two men behind us shared a hearty laugh at my well-timed joke. It was either that or I would have completely embarrassed myself by gaping and drooling over both THE Tony Stark and Lyra's father.

The rush didn't stop there. I was promptly and generously offered not only a spare pair of pants but also a whole room to stay in after an invitation to dinner I simply could not refuse. Dr. Banner firmly coaxed me into staying overnight with his pleading eyes and a hearty seasoning of guilt tripping, softly crooning how he simply could not let a young woman to wander the cold, rainy night in NYC alone.

Tony added something too, in a tone way too surefire and patronising. I guessed he noticed my eyes lingering on Dr. Banner, being a genius and all.

In a short amount of time, I found myself seated at a dinner table next to a happy, giggling Lyra who'd downed a glass of wine and was well into her second. I found it adorable how much of a lightweight she was; not hesitating in the slightest to point out that fact when she made hands for a pitcher of water.

Tony was the first one to snark back something vague about his college days and all the wild parties he used to throw, booing Bruce upon discovery that he, in fact, actually studied in college in favour of partaking in various illicit activities. That had both me and Tony giggling with Lyra promptly joining in, both of us losing it over the running joke or her being either a test tube baby or the result of immaculate conception.

Bruce's face blushed scarlet. He sputtered, a few stray drops of his lemonade landing on the (ironed!) collar of his purple shirt, cough disappearing in the wake of Tony's truly amused cackling. Dr. Banner was well on his way to either choke on his Lo Mein or turn green; thinking quickly, I decided to defuse a situation by sharing a harmless, funny story that happened to me as a freshman.

"I went on a date with this guy who said that music was the most important thing in his life, and I thought, wow, that's so beautiful!" I began my story over Lyra's incessant snickering. "So we had dinner and went back to his place because I'm a whore," the whole table erupted in laughter at my deadpan remark, Tony reaching over to give me a high five.

"And as we got there, he put on one of his demos which was just a bunch of sampled and remixed Guns'n'Roses songs, and I thought wow, that's gotta be one of the worst things I've ever heard," I pointedly looked away as Lyra's cackling grew in volume, having heard the same story several times by now and the outrage I expressed at the situation first hand.

"But instead of that I said, wow, that's so cool! Then we did the thing and his whole bedroom was covered in Axl Rose posters and I'm sure at some point Mr. Rose stared right up my asshole," there were tears streaming down Lyra's face as Tony flopped his upper body onto the table and Bruce convulsed helplessly in a silent fit of giggles. "And then I thought to myself: wow, I would have to pretend to like his music if I dated this guy and I just couldn't do that..." I breathed out, succumbing to the mirth at the dinner table. "It was good but not November Rain good, y'kno?"

Bruce snorted loudly, sliding down his chair with a hand over his face. The table shook with the force of Tony's cackling; I didn't see his expression but the howling, rasping noises sent me into another fit of laughter, right on par with Lyra.

"Is this..." Tony rapidly inhaled the much-needed oxygen. "Is this why you keep wincing whenever I play the 'Roses in the lab?" Tony wheezed and Lyra nodded.

"I just... I can picture it, and I-" she made a vague, encompassing gesture and a face.

"Please, don't," I urged with a snort. "There are better ways to get disappointed."

Dinner went on by smoothly after that, everybody happily making remarks on my dating fail, the topic of Lyra's birth and Tony's college shenanigans dismissed.

I caught Dr. Banner's pointed look as we finished our dessert - he was studying me, eyes searching for something that he very obviously wished was there. From the damp roots of my hair to the soft, cotton top clinging to my chest, I wasn't left unscrutinzed and unexamined. Like one of the many specimens he studied on a daily basis, Bruce lingered on the many characteristics that made me stand out in the grey crowd.

"Would you like to see the labs?" He asked, appearing behind me without a single sound.

The freshly cleaned dishes clattered in my arms. I'd almost dropped them, startled, but Bruce's hand landed on the top of the stack right before the top plate would have slipped off and shattered into pieces on the cold tile of his kitchen.

Blood rushed to my ears. "I'd love to," my brain had briefly returned to reality, the rush of meeting both Stark and Banner succumbing to logic and reason. My and his fields of study briefly overlapped, the question he posed was more than reasonable. In fact, many people would cheat, lie and steal to be in my position.

Bruce smiled, opening a cabinet and taking half of the dishes I was holding to stack them up in their proper place. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing wide, muscular forearms littered with dark, coarse hair.

I was sure my face was flaming. After waving off Lyra's attempts to put shoes on me and leaving her to watch her TV show, a wide, warm palm rested on the back of my waist, gently steering me towards the elevator.

I tried to keep my eyes off Bruce in the large mirror on the walls of the car as it swiftly moved down, scrutinizing my appearance instead. My throat bobbed, the elevator car suddenly too small and too hot.

His eyes left marks on me - invisible ones, the kind that I knew were there just from the scorching heat sizzling on my skin.

There was a certain je ne sais quoi about him. Perhaps, it was in the way he was acting - a polar opposite of what I'd had expected, Dr. Bruce Banner possessed a quiet confidence and his patience appeared to be endless, heartily doused with an appreciation for his closest ones. The way his eyes lit up in response to people smiling around the dinner table was hard to miss.

When Bruce spoke about his research - whatever wasn't classified, anyway - the spark expanded into a mischievous fire. I could hardly understand the nuances in his work, scratch that- I could not understand a single word he was saying, at all. The individual syllables registered as they should, but my traitorous brain could only focus on the way he licked his lips in between quickly inhaled breaths.

"You're not... Following, are you?" The corner of his mouth lifted upwards, clever brown eyes fixed on my face.

God, I hoped I wasn't drooling. But to deny the obvious would have been a stretch. "No, not really," I swallowed, willing my eyes to lift from the large veins on the hand that was pointing at a set of equations. Reasonably good at math any day, they looked like the scribbles of a madman to me at the time.

Dr. Banner sighed, letting silence creep among the whirring machinery in the lab for a brief moment. "I don't scare you?" He removed his glasses, cleaning them with the corner of his shirt.

The question reeked of self-doubt and, perhaps, insecurity. "No," I answered simply, not giving him the slightest chance to find doubt in my words. I was barely holding my voice from shaking, afraid he'd misunderstand my reaction to the sudden change in atmosphere.

He was closer to me than I recalled. My hip was almost brushing his, the bulk of his shoulder millimeters from touching against my bare skin, the smell of something herbal, like tea, and sharp chemicals clouding my senses. It was such a contrasting experience.

Bruce turned to me, an expression between hunger and regret forcing me to shiver and look him straight in the eye. A hand landed on my waist, holding me in place with gentle firmness. "I'm a monster, I could hurt you," he whispered, leaning into me like a touch starved kitten. The man screamed contradiction. "We shouldn't."

Vivid images of the Hulk and the rampages years prior flashed through my mind; the rubble, the collateral damage in the form of many lives. I barely remembered it, having been too little to really understand what was going on. One thing, though, I knew for sure: ever since the world became aware of Lyra's existence, there had been no incidents. Sure, the Hulk still appeared when there was a threat, but there were no documented incidents of the green creature running amok, accidentally.

"You won't hurt me," I spoke with conviction. Perhaps, I was bluffing just slightly but I wouldn't lie like that to myself. The variable, the... Twelve or so percent chance of things going... Awry, it made a small, malicious worm inside of me rejoice and fill my limbs with familiar adrenalised yearning. "You're not a monster. Far from it, actually," I used the hand that was not supporting me against the desk to gently cradle the side of his face, letting my fingertips brush over the rough five o'clock shadow on his cheek.

Bruce emitted a sound somewhere between an agitated grown and a pleading whine, sagging with the sound exhale, pressing himself flush with my chest. His face slipped from my palm, the warm tip of his nose running a steady line up my neck, sending goosebumps running wildly down my back as his hot breath tickled the arch of my throat.

"Baby," the nickname punched a stuttered gasp out of me with the intensity contained in just that one word. "I've been hearing all these amazing things about you," his voice dropped, low baritone rumbling straight into my ear. "I won't be able to hold back. I'll want you all to myself," his bicep flexed under my hand.

My knees would have bucked if I wasn't grasping onto Bruce for dear life after those words. I had some sense of personal pride in me, so while my body was an easy, traitorous thing, my mind was more than eager to participate in this game, to ping pong a little bit before... "Yeah? What things?" I breathed.

Teeth briefly closed around my tender skin, nipping for just a second. "You're kind, beautiful," his hand took a steadfast hold on the back of my neck, exposing my throat to his mouth. More skin to mark, more time to whisper. "Intelligent, bright and clever," the more he spoke, the fiercer he became. Bruce's grasp tightened until I was pliant in it, willingly following his silent commands. "A bit of a pain in the ass," a healthy dose of humour was added into the mix as my ass was roughly grabbed, our fronts pressed together at his insistence.

"That sounds about right," I didn't resist the sudden urge to snark, thoughts lazily floating in my head, like clouds on a bright sunny day, fleeting and sparse. None of them caught on. I was focused on feeling the need, on my need to feel.

A sharp smack landed on the plump of my ass, the sound resonating in the eerily quiet lab. The sounds of machinery had dulled at some point, leaving just the two of us panting our lust into each other's space. "I know you can be a good girl. Will you, princess?" His fingertips dug into my flesh, surpassing the soft sweatpants as if they weren't even there.

I could only nod, dumbly, overcome by the sudden rush of blood to my body. The life coarsing through me sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension.

"What's that?" Bruce removed himself from my neck, catching my unfocused eyes with a crooked smirk on his lips.

"Yes," I swallowed, breathing through my mouth.

"Mmm," he hummed, running both hands over my sides, over the frayed edges of my Mötorhead top. He admired it, briefly, setting his eyes on the band logo that was right over my breasts. Having decided something to himself, Bruce promptly removed it, lifting it over my head with ease and leaving it right on the science lab table.

Taking hold of my hand, he walked over to a hidden set of sliding doors that revealed a rather large, frequently used bed, shutting them just as I walked in, wearing only my bra and borrowed sweats. My back was pressed to the door in mere seconds, hot palms chasing away the chill of the lab as Bruce slotted his lips over mine.

He tasted like something I've never had before. His lips - so plush and supple, took hold of the kiss with practiced gusto, sucking me in without a chance or the desire to escape. I drank from him, sucked on the bottom lip as his tongue explored my mouth, danced with mine.

The room was spinning, the ringing in my ears growing in volume. I was only partly aware of the sensation of sliding down the wall; our knees thudded on the carpeted floor simultaneously, heavy breathing the only noise I could distinguish.

"Breathe, baby, that's it," Bruce coaxed, gently stroking my nape. The soft cotton of his shirt crumpled under my fingers where I held onto him, desperately searching something to ground myself with.

The buckle of his belt clattered and then clinked again as he wrapped the worn leather around my wrists, bringing them together in front of my chest. I exhaled sharply at the intimate gesture, a whine bubbling up from my chest when Bruce used a single fingertip to raise my chin.

My eyes met his; a brown iris tinged with the faintest of green around the outer edge. "This okay, princess?" He sought my face for confirmation, for agreement, for anything.

I nodded, stuttering mid-gesture, remembering our previous interaction. My mouth did not want to cooperate but I forced it to, even if it came out as little more than a pitiful mewl. "Yes, daddy," the word, sweet and sticky like fruit syrup, poured from my lips.

My eyes slid shut as my conscience - or was it common sense? - took hold of the situation. I was on my knees in front of my best friends dad, a virtual stranger, and I'd just-

Bruce's soft chuckle stopped the negative spiral of my thoughts. "That's my girl," he sounded a tad more breathless now, a hairliner in his perfect façade of self-control. As if he'd sensed my indecisiveness, he tugged on the makeshift restraints, pulling me closer, closer and into his lap.

A warm, solid chest with a healthy amount of fluff greeted me. Bruce let my lax, pliant body fall into his arms, catching me effortlessly and bringing my face to his lips. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you're my good girl," he peppered soft kisses all over my flaming cheeks, my twitching nose, my fluttering lashes.

"Please," I begged, shame giving way to the flood of arousal that seemingly hit me all at once. I was aware of the dampness collecting in my panties, the stiffness of my limbs from holding back the ravenous desire to paw at Bruce like a wild animal. "Please, daddy..."

"I know, I know, baby girl," he soothed, not stopping his tender assault on my face. "Daddy will make it all better. I know just what you need," Bruce finally pulled away. I heard the sound of him undoing his zipper and then the awkward shuffle of him shucking off his pants.

Somewhere in between of all that, he'd ended up sitting down on the bed, wearing only his boxers, his shirt hanging open. The red crawled down his chest, partially masked by the coarse salt and pepper hair; his lips were cherry red and his hair was sticking out in odd directions. Bruce looked sinful.

My eyes inadvertently landed on the impressive bulge in his boxers; in response to my widened eyes, he reached out for it, stroking the outline of his thick cock through his boxers. "Like what you see, baby?"

"Yeah," My mouth watered.

"Baby wants a fat cock?" He teased, sounding like he knew exactly what he was doing, testing my self-control like that. With a flick of his wrist, it sprang free, slapping against his tummy, coating the fine hairs with drops of clear, musky fluid.

I swallowed, feeling the taste of him from afar and yearning for more where I was parked between his spread legs.

In a gesture almost loving, he tugged on the belt still wrapped around my wrists, bringing my face to his leaking shaft and my hands to the base of it, letting me feel the weight of his balls in them. The cock throbbed, neglected, weighed down by the heaviness of his full balls.

"Go ahead, baby, suck my cock," the encouragement came with a gentle push to my head.

I obediently followed, wrapping my lips around the pink, moist crown of it, a hum beginning in the back of my throat. My God, Bruce tasted heavenly... I whirled and slipped my tongue a around his head, I dipped into the slit to drink the nectar right from the tap, idly coming to awareness of the broken, choked moans coming from the man above me.

Raising my head got me a view of his chin; head thrown back, the lax O of his mouth glistened in the meager light. My eyes slid lower, to the flex of his abs. Bruce fought hard to stay still. The desire consumed me, a sudden rush of power at having Dr. Bruce Banner's cock in my mouth and the man at my mercy; I inhaled, sliding my mouth further and further down his throbbing length.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter before his hands gripped the sides of my face. "Hungry, baby, are you?" His eyes glowed a faint green; I shuddered at the power he held within himself. Held back for me. "Tap my thigh twice," he spoke and I had no choice but to obey. "Okay. Do that if it gets too much, alright?" I nodded. He gave me a wide, beaming smile. "Good girl," he praised, experimentally bucking his hips into my mouth a few times.

In and out. I focused on my breathing, sharp, little inhales: his girth took up all the free space in my mouth, the tip of it barely fit into my throat. The burn, the stretch; I felt every tenth of an inch, every bulging attempt of my body to accommodate Bruce's huge cock. It was delicious, I couldn't help but crave the same stretch in my neglected, sopping wet pussy.

"Fuck, you're taking it so well," Bruce moaned wetly. "Your mouth... S'like heaven... Could fuck it all day, that's my good girl," the rambling increased in it's intensity as the pace of his hips hastened. Drool and tears flowed like a river; my chin was dropping with it, spit connected my face to his pelvis. "Oh," there was a brief pause to his movements; suddenly, he pulled out, fisting the base of his cock, staring me down with a ferocious gleem in his eye.

I must've looked a straight mess; my face like a crime scene, my clothes disheveled, covered in fluids and most of all - I was desperately grinding against my own feet, too focused on the glorious cock in front of me to notice the weakness of my own flesh. "Daddy?" I questioned, wincing at the grating of my own voice.

Without a word, the belt was tugged once more; in a set of movements just slightly north of acrobatic, I found myself laying on my back in the middle of the bed, my sweatpants suffering a haste demise in the corner of the room.

Bruce crawled atop me, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on every inch of my skin he could reach, mouthing something inaudible into every pore of my body. As he drew closer, I discerned bitten-off phrases, stringing my desire into sticky, tangy mess at the apex of my thighs.

"My perfect baby girl," the words reached me; all tongue, he kissed me once more, arching into me as much as I arched into his hot grasp. A brief inspection of my face - he was satisfied with what he saw - and Bruce crawled back, settling in between my spread legs, breathing hot air on the lips of my sex still covered by a sopping wet piece of fabric.

"Oh fuck," I yelped, feeling him smooch it soundly, the hot wetness of his tongue penetrating the meagre lace barrier with ease.

He moved it aside anyway, with a single finger, giving my pussy a broad lick, moaning into my cunt like a man gone mad. It took a few more licks for him to feel sated enough to surface, all the while holding my hips down. I was so sensitive, I felt even the tiniest flicks to my clit, I was sure if I didn't cum then and there, I would explode.

"Such a pretty pussy, princess," his heavy breathing paused briefly. He nipped my thigh. "So wet, is that all for me?"

"Yes, yes, daddy," I rasped, pushing my cunt into his face, losing all shame and trepidation.

"So tasty," he continued the torture, outlining my lower lips before taking another nosedive right into it, swirling his tongue around every fold, sucking onto my clit.

Bruce ate my pussy until my thighs shook, until my core quivered and I could no longer hold back the choked, ragged screams starting somewhere in the low of my belly and coming out as unholy, all-consuming yowls filled with unadulterated lust.

"Louder for me, baby," he inhaled rapidly, and then, he sucked on my clit.

The world stopped, halted on it's axis, every muscle going rigid in my body and every nerve ending simultaneously coming alive. Faintly, I heard a chant, repeating two syllables over and over, it sounded like my voice - but I had no control over myself. All I could do was weakly grind my hips against Bruce's mouth, faltering when the crashing waves of my orgasm began to recede.

The infuriating overstimulation stopped; blinking hazily, I saw Bruce's eyes glimmer brown and green in front of my face. His nose and his chin was glistening with a thin coat of sticky fluid; disheveled and red, he looked a man on the verge of a revelation.

Something hot and blunt nosed at my cunt, bringing back the moment to me - I realized, with a great deal of impatience - how empty I felt. The decision was minute. "Daddy, fuck me, please, I want your cock," the words came easily.

"That's my girl," his eyes fluttered shut as the first inches squeezed through the snug of my cunt. I was sopping wet and as relaxed as I'd be, but even then, it was a stretch. "Good girl, good baby," the mumbled praise made me whine and my pussy clamp on his cock. "Relax, let daddy fill you up." Breathing through it, I consciously unwound myself around him, letting my palms rest freely on his shoulders. "Let daddy take care of you."

Like melted sugar, his husked words stuck to me inside and out. Short, sharp thrusts; Bruce was patiently burrowing himself inside of me, making his way to reach the deepest parts of me I didn't even know existed. His cock head pressed against something hard and spongy inside of me; stars burst behind my eyes I'd clamped shut on reflex.

I moaned weakly, tugging on his arm, pressing myself closer. It felt so, so good. Like a raw nerve had been exposed and he was stroking it, pushing that little switch with every stroke of his hips.

"I'm not gonna last," he muttered as once again, my cunt squeezed him snugly in place, just as greedy as I was to feel that tiny explosion spark up within me again.

"I want..." I panted. Bruce set in a punishing pace after that, a palm under my ass, squeezing it so hard there would definitely be bruising. I craved it, I needed to see the evidence this was not some elaborate fever dream. "I want... Daddy to fill me up," words came out garbled; it sounded like gibberish to my ears but Bruce - they spurred him on.

"Oh yeah?" That breathless, boyish cockiness was back in his voice again; despite how fucked out he sounded, I prepared myself for something truly out of this world. I just knew.

He sat back on his shins, dragging me by the hips with him, making me shiver and moan and twitch and clamp onto him again as his throbbing cock hit that special spot again. And again. And again.

"Look at me, baby," a hand on my belly and his eyes burning right through me. As they slid down, towards the apex of my thighs where he was still moving within me almost lazily, I saw it.

"Oh fuck," I couldn't utter much more than a two-syllabled profanity. There was a bulge in my belly, just above my pelvis, moving in rhythm with Bruce's hips. And then he pressed on it and I-

Something, someone, somewhere was screaming. The noise was loud and pitched, but even then, I could barely hear it though the neverending waves of bliss that enveloped my whole being. Gold and silver at the edges of my rapidly darkening vision; I was drowning in something that smelled and felt like Bruce. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his heated body, the rapid snapping of his hips-

Oh.

"I'm gonna, fuck," the last word was but a ghost of a human speech. Growling low and filthy, Bruce leaned into my ear, his breath hot and moist. "Mine," his hips stuttered, his cock nestled deep, the sensation bordering on painful, forcefully extracted pleasure. It throbbed with every spurt of his seed; each one felt like a solid punch in the gut to my abused pussy.

"Daddy," I mewled, my body jerking away from him but my mind and my soul yearning for more. His rapidly softening flesh made the idea of being separated unbearable.

"S'good, s'my good girl, m'so proud," he mumbled, looking slightly disoriented as he removed himself from me, immediately pressing me to his side and interwining any free, flailing limbs.

We laid in silence, each of us slowly coming back to Earth after the completely unreal experience we just had. I didn't know what to think, didn't know what to do as the realization set in, the post-orgasmic haze giving way to a sudden rush of clarity.

"I can hear you overthinking," Bruce's voice was fond.

Before I could muster up the courage to snark back, the divided doors opened, one very concerned Tony Stark standing there, armed with a tranquilizer gun in one hand and a pack of cookies in the other. His mouth, previously open to (probably) yell at us, remained as open when his eyes had registered the scene in front of him.

I stared at Bruce. Bruce stared at Tony.

"The noise," he offered in the way of explanation, dangling the pack of cookies, looking, for once - speechless. He recovered quickly, however, even if the remark was a thin ghost of his usual sass: "You pick the nerd over me? I'm hurt," he scoffed in mock irritation, although I was pretty sure I saw some satisfaction in there, too.

Bruce looked at me. I looked at Bruce.

A mischievous grin slowly crept up his face, an identical one beginning to appear on my own face seconds after.

"Hey, two nerds is better than one, right?" My response is what did it; or, rather, it was the evidence of my previous throat-fucking clearly audible in my voice... Tony dropped the cookies and then, the tranq gun.

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#bruce banner x reader #bruce banner smut #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x y/n #Bruce Banner #bun writes #I haven't written shit in a month and boom #6k words in three hours #i don't like the ending #I'm bad at them #okay #okay .

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