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#others say it is internally incoherent

rabbits-of-negative-euphoria · 9 months

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is the full spectrum of worldview interpretations of the Barbie movie evidence that it was ineffectively written and thus, impossible to understand? or is it evidence that we as a population no longer have the ability to interpret a story as it was written? be that through incompetence, ignorance, or total lack of a shared culture

#- HK #hmmm hmmm #some conservatives say it is coherently misandrist #others say it is internally incoherent #michael knowles says it is perfectly coherent as a liberal litany against feminism #but even in his explanation I sense some analogies that don’t consistently bear out #this is why I want to see it. but first I want to watch Lady Bird #however I am broke #mobile #Barbie #as a writer who is almost positive my very purposeful meanings will be misinterpreted by the majority of readers #I’m always wondering if I’m the problem when the day is done

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rosiesrroses · 4 months

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Santa | mv1

Summary: In which Y/n and Max try to make Christmas special for their children.

Paring: dad!max verstappen x mom!reader

Warning: Just fluff. This is kinda short and not proofread.

Finished: 23 Dec. 2023

Posted: 25 Dec. 2023

Word count: 769

note: Merry Christmas ❤ These photos are not mine, I got them from pinterest.

My love for u is ever lasting, it will last until eternity ends~

y/n verstappen’s pov - around 6.30 am

“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Wake up!”

I internally groaned as I heard my two four-year-old boys, Jamie and Colin, shout and began jumping on Max and I’s bed.

“Boys, please. Can we please use our inside voices? It’s still too early to be screaming like this” I try to reason with them.

“But it’s Christmas momma,” Jamie said with a frown on his face.

“Yes, and momma is also really excited. But we can’t go screaming like this and wake everyone up, okay?” I asked them.

“Okay,” they both said and looked down onto the bed.

“Why don’t we go downstairs and make some hot chocolate?” I asked them and they both eagerly nodded before jumping off the bed and running out of the bedroom.

“Max. Maxie,” I whispered in Max's ear, trying to wake him up.

But he just groaned, mumbling incoherent words before turning to his left side and going back to snoring.

“Max, can you please wake up?” I asked a little louder so that he could hear me this time.

“What?” he asked as he turned on his back still with his eyes closed.

This man is not a morning person.

“It’s Christmas and the kids are already downstairs waiting,” I said as he finally sat up.

“Oh, yeah. Merry Chrismas schatje.” he smiled and he gave me a quick peck on the lips.

“Eww” Max and I heard as we finished and turned to see Jamie and Colin.

“Momma, you promised us hot chocolate!” Colin whined.

“I know, I know. Let’s go make us some hot chocolate, and then we can go open all of our presents.” I said as I picked Colin up and held Jamie’s hand as we left the room.

Instagram ~

yourusername

♡ liked by yourbff, maxverstappen1, and 527, 894 others

yourusername Merry Christmas from the Verstappen family ❤

comments on this post has been limited

yourbff Merry christmas ❤

➥ yourusername ❤

landonorris Merry christmas

➥ yourusername ❤

redbullracing Still coming to the christmas party? Everyone's invited.

➥ yourusername Can’t make any promises 🤫

max verstappen’s pov - a couple hours later

“Don’t they look cute just playing with their toys?” Y/n asked as she stood beside me with a cup of coffee in her hands.

The minute the twins finished their hot chocolate, they tore all the presents open and have been playing with their toys ever since.

And I just hummed as a response to Y/n’s question, not knowing what else to say.

“What’s wrong?” Y/n asked me, putting her cup down on the counter.

“What? Nothing. Just thinking about tonight's Christmas party,” I sighed.

“Oh me too. I can’t wait to see everyone again,” Y/n smiled at the thought.

“Yeah, I was kind of thinking the opposite,” I confessed.

“What? Why?” Y/n frowned.

“I don’t know. I just want to spend today inside, with my family,” I shrugged.

“Okay, let me tell you what. The twins are really excited to go, so let’s just go for a couple of hours and see if we enjoy it,” she tried to reason with me.

“Okay, anything for you schatje,” I smiled and kissed her forehead.

She smiled back at me and walked to the living room where the kids are sat, still playing with their toys.

“Really?!” the twins both simultaneously shouted as Y/n whispered something to them.

“Yeah, so let’s go get ready and then we can leave,” Y/n nodded in confirmation.

Instagram ~

yourusername

♡ liked by yourbff, maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 605,225

tagged: maxverstappen1, redbullracing

yourusername before and after said christmas party

comments have been turned off by the creator

y/n vestappen’s pov - at the Christmas party

“Momma, why is Daddy dressed like Santa?” I heard Colin say as he tugged on my dress.

Max was asked to dress like Santa for this year's Christmas party, and he was more than happy to.

But Max doesn’t have the best costume on, so the twins can definitely see that it is Max instead of Santa.

“Well, that’s because Santa couldn’t make it. Santa’s wife is sick and she needs someone to care for her so Santa asked Daddy to be in his place tonight,” I lie.

“Oh, so Daddy thinks we think he’s Santa?” Jamie asked. Jamie has always been smart.

“Yeah, so why don’t you two go say hi to “Santa”?” I wink at them.

“Okay, momma,” Colin said and kissed my cheek before they left.

“So, are you gonna tell Max that they know?” One of my friends asked me as I stood up from my crouching position.

“Never,"

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #f1 #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #red bull f1 #red bull formula 1 #red bull racing #christmas #santa #merry christmas #santa claus #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

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hon3yteddy · 1 year

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꒰ things that make nct dream flustered 🍦 ꒱

synopsis: flustered dream ? and they're all a bit pathetic in a cute way genre(s): established relationship, romance, fluff, stuff that could make you cry if you were just that tiny bit insane warning(s): insanity, cheese author's note: double post !?!?! i feel like my writing style is repetitive which puts me off

for mark it's definitely pet names. things like “love”, “sweetheart”, "darling” and especially “baby” but it has to have the “y” at the end. normally you’d say them so naturally, not thinking too much about it, mark on the other hand is a mess. a simple question could be asked with the additional “baby” at the end and he’s praying for strength as he tries to answer with incoherent words. he'll always try to argue that he doesn’t like it, but he’s in fact proud of the fact that he’s simply yours. it’s adorable to say the least, the way he’s simply at the palm of your hands, compliant to your words just because of a simple word.

if renjun catches you staring, he’s over the moon. hearing a “pretty” slip out from your lips as you admire him. you’re shameless about it, not bothering to look away after you’ve been caught. it’s more embarrassing for him than it is for you. your gaze is so attentive and so soft he swears he’s blushing and on the verge of passing out. he’ll give you a “what do you want?” but never gets an answer as you carry on admiring his ethereal beauty. he was never one for attention, and having your attention just seemed to have more of an effect. renjun's got such a soft spot for you - he’ll never admit it though.

jeno is a dead man when you feel him, but not in that type of way. you’re simply just feeling him up out of pure curiosity. yeah, you’ve felt the man a lot but you can’t help but poke, pinch, squeeze at his muscles. you’re practically in awe of his build. obviously, you don’t like him for his body only. it's just fun to just squeeze his muscles every now and then and watch how he reacts to your ever so curious touches. you’re soft and careful, but tend to be calculative, eager for a reaction out of him. you like how he’s shy under your touch, the way he tries to ignore it all, but you can tell, anyone can tell that he’s enjoy it despite his want to not do so. jeno's fingers fidget, his face turns away from yours to avoid your gaze, sometimes you can feel him become tense as you drag your hand along his bare skin. be careful of the power you hold over him because he might just lose all sanity.

your compliments have got the lee haechan ascending into another galaxy. he’s not necessarily flustered by your side comments, he’s actually rather cocky about it, whispering for you to say some more or pretending to tuck his hair behind his ear and bat his eyelashes at you as a joke to hear you laugh. yet internally it's utter chaos, he’s on his knees in tears, screaming in pure joy. he definitely giggles about your kind words later, trying to remake the whole scenario just to feel something again. he could never let you see how much of an effect you have on him with your words. he’s a lot better when it comes to the banter you exchange on a daily basis so he’d treasure your words forever.

jaemin adores it when you become a bit whiny, not in a slap deserving way. he’s normally the whiny one, begging for attention, a kiss, a cuddle, so when the roles reverse he’s simply gone and under your command. you want to hold hands, he’s dropping everything in his hands for you; you want to cuddle, he’s diving into your embrace with no questions asked. he gets giddy when you ask him for the most simplistic of things. he adores how vulnerable and cute you sound, whining for his attention, outreaching your hand for him to hold. it’s even worse for his heart when you’re doing it half asleep, calling his name as you lay side by side, asking for a hug to nestle yourself in. jaemin would do anything you asked of him, anything at all.

if there’s one thing chenle would say he loves about you most, it’s got to be your laugh. he doesn’t care if you don’t like it, every time he hears your laugh it seriously takes his breath away. he hates the way you’ll try and hide it, he loves it so much, and he definitely loves to hear it when he’s the cause of it. he likes the one where you’re fighting for your life in tears, laughing your ass off at a joke he’s made. chenle takes pride in them every single time. he’s normally laughing with you, glancing towards your beautiful smiling face. that is, until you're laughing at him. then he’s pouting and shying away. but he could never be angry for too long seeing you so happy. if chenle could, he’d get you to laugh everyday, simply because he loves you that much.

anything can mess with this poor boy’s heart. You don’t even need to be there in jisung's presence to have some sort of effect on him. a simple text message gets his heart flatlining. texting you has got him using all of his brain power to send the perfect text only for him to regret everything he says. he can be a bit more confident through the screen, using how you can’t see him act embarrassing in the comfort of his room to his own advantage. yet a “good night <3” has got the 6ft grown adult rolling around his bed, kicking his legs, crying and screaming into his pillow awakening everyone else. it gets worse when you send a picture of yourself just because you can. the rest of nct might as well just prepare for his funeral at that point. He’s just a lovesick loser but you can’t help but love him anyway.

jan 2023 © hon3teddy

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lidiasloca · 8 months

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more than this (azriel x reader)

summary: after Azriel and reader had a summer together, the last thing Az was expecting was to face her again. (angst).

next chapter

chapter one

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

The light-heading heat of the summer was to its end. And so were the days and nights of love with Azriel.

You remind yourself that that had been the plan since the beginning. Just a summer thing. After summer, no more seeing each other.

That’s what the both of you had agreed. Yet you had broken one rule already: It wasn’t just a summer thing for you.

And now, you are breaking another rule. You are going to begin the Valkyrie training. Meaning: you are going face Azriel, everyday.

The reason why you are enlisted to these training sessions wakes you from distant thoughts. “No, y/n, Azriel is not one of those; I promise.”

“Not one of those? Mor,” You echo. “So what? You think he’ll kiss me once I enter the training ring?” She doesn’t miss the hint of sarcasm in your words.

Your friend turns to you, now fully dressed, and says, “no, smartass. I’m not saying he will kiss you and tell you he wants forever with you. I’m just saying that he won’t ignore you. He’s not one to pretend nothing happened.”

You hum, processing her words and trying to ignore the hurt you feel about the part where she says Azriel will not want to be with you forever.

He had explicitly said he wanted nothing serious, yet you… Gods, you had it bad.

“At this point, I’m not sure if I’d be better off with him ignoring me.” You know for certain that isn’t true. At all.

“I think that’s quite a big lie,” she laughs as she walks to you, looping her arm with yours. “Come on; you don't want to be late and thereby draw Azriel’s attention, huh?”

You give no answer as she leads you to the living room, where Rhys is waiting to fly you. Rhysand and someone else, you suppose, since it’s both Mor and you that have to be flown. Someone else-

Before Mor opens the door to the living room, his scent hits you like a slap. But before you can react, the door is already open, and Azriel is there in front of you. You’re sure your heart misses a beat.

He’s wearing his usual leathers, his expression is usual, calm, and yet… yet you deem him ethereally beautiful, more beautiful than you remembered him, even.

You can’t help but smile as you enter the room, hoping he’ll smile back.

But when he turns to look at you, his eyes are bored. Unimpressed. Like he doesn’t know you at all.

Something breaks in your heart.

“Y/n.” You turn to Rhys, realizing he is here, too. He says friendly, “are you ready?”

You glance swiftly back to Mor, and she gives you a look that you assume means pity. The tension between Azriel and you must’ve been quite obvious if Mor noticed.

You try to swallow your hurt and make yourself say, “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Rhysand smiles at you in answer and turns expectant to his spymaster, waiting. But Azriel says nothing. Greets no one.

The high lord turns back to Mor. “Well, then...”

She takes a step to him, but stops when Azriel’s voice rings brusquely. “No. I’ll fly Mor.”

He doesn’t even want to be near you. He doesn’t even want to touch you. And of course, he’d rather fly beautiful and smart and talented Mor rather than a summer hookup.

You stop your intrusive thoughts before they make you run to your friend and sob and pray to stay in the house. To not go anywhere outside your bed.

You look up at Mor, who is awkwardly standing there. You feel her internal debate about what to do.

And though you want to curl in yourself and cry, you decide you have to be mature. “I’ll go with you, Rhys.”

You try to not think too long about how you have a whole day ahead with Azriel.

-Characters by Saraah J. Maas

Have I, by any chance, been listening to august by taylor swift too much? Maybe… Oh, and btw, this will be a series. The first series I write, actually. Im mad exited. wow, well, hope you feel my exitement through this incoherent text with too many comas. And hope you liked this too ofc.

#azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #acotar fic #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #az imagine #azriel imagine

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nahoney22 · 6 months

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🥳🥳congrats on 4000 !!🥳🥳

For your follower celebration

May I request a sfw f! Reader x crosshair

In which reader is woken up from a nightmare and is comforted by cross, which leads to cuddles and falling asleep in his arms? 👉👈

Maybe reader has a crush and wasn't expecting to be shaken from a nightmare nor was she expecting cross to be the one to wake them out of it and comfort her (because despite his standoff attitude Mr. Snarky has a crush too )

Lol sorry if that sounds confusing or complicated

Totally fine if you pass this request up lol

Nightmare Rescue

Crosshair X F!Reader

word count: 1.2k

When a nightmare takes over your sleep, your roughly awakened by the squads Marksman. But what you didn’t anticipate was for him to crawl into the same bunk with you.

warnings: Safe for work, female reader, mutual pining, reader has a nightmare, moody Crosshair, fluff and comfort, cuddles. Can be read as GN.

authors note: many thanks for the support and request @secretthegriffin. Sorry for the wait. Enjoy 🤍

With intense, inscrutable eyes, Crosshair observes you from across the room, attuned to the slightest shift in your typically calm expression. Your brows furrow as you begin to mumble incoherently, your breath turning erratic, punctuated by occasional gasps.

He keenly discerns the distress etched on your face. The fluttering of your eyelids, as if ensnared in a tormenting dream, leaves him deeply unsettled. He can't bear to witness it any longer and he firmly grips your shoulder and shakes your body.

Abruptly, you awaken with a jolt, your heart racing and your body ensnared in tangled bedsheets. The nightmarish grip still clings to your mind, the vivid and unsettling images haunting you. As you strive to make sense of it, your thoughts race in a whirlwind of fear and confusion, your mind wrestling to distinguish dream from reality. But then you meet his gaze.

"C-Crosshair? What... are you okay?"

He hums, his moody facade making it hard to discern his emotions. "I'm fine. You're not."

You wipe the sweat from your brow and swing your legs around the bunk as you sit up. "Did I wake you?" you groan, running a hand through your untamed hair.

"Yes," he replies dryly, his moody expression giving nothing away.

Cursing internally, guilt gnaws at you as Crosshair moves back to his bunk and hunches forward once he sits.

“What was it about?” His unexpected question catches you off guard. You had anticipated Crosshair might wake you and leave you to your own devices, so his display of concern surprises you. It's a rarity, but not unwelcome. You've always found him intriguing since joining the Batch, though you can't envision a relationship beyond comrades, and perhaps, at most, friends.

His inquisitive "Well?" breaks your reverie, snapping you out of your thoughts. His frowning gaze meets your momentarily blank expression, making you feel like you've been gawking at him as if he has three heads.

"Oh, erm," you stammer, not eager to revisit those dreams, "just like... death, I guess." It's not far from the truth.

You glance back at him, finding his gaze unwavering. "You must dream about it a lot."

Your heart twinges, realising that Crosshair has likely seen your internal struggle more than once, and it's possible that the others have noticed too. It's not every time you sleep, but it happens often enough for someone to say, ‘oh, another one?’.

"Yeah, I guess," you admit.

The ship falls into a comfortable silence, with only the typical hum of the engines and the faint, rhythmic tapping of Crosshair bouncing his knee. His silence doesn't bother you; it's not unusual, and merely being in his company is enough, especially with your lingering crush.

Moments pass until he suddenly looks at you, his eyes piercing, a code you can never fully decipher. Your legs feel like jelly, and you momentarily forget how to breathe.

"You should go back to sleep," he orders abruptly. However, for that fleeting moment, there's a softness in his tone when he meets your gaze. "Long day ahead tomorrow."

You nod softly, releasing a deep exhale, breath-taken as usual when he speaks to you. "I suppose. Goodnight."

He doesn't respond with the same words, instead emitting a subtle grunt, his own version of 'goodnight.' But tossing and turning brings no relief as you fail to fall back asleep.

Uncertain whether your inability to sleep is due to the fear of more nightmares or the worry of disturbing Crosshair, you let out a subtle sigh. To your surprise, Crosshair remains awake.

"Can't sleep?"

"Nope," you say, emphasising the 'p'. You turn your head to see Crosshair has maintained the same position for nearly an hour now. He sits in his stark, stoic silence. "What about you?"

"I don't need to," he mutters, reaching under his bunk to retrieve his rifle and a cloth. His hands move with precision and care as he idly cleans his most prized possession, a ritual he performs with unwavering focus.

You watch him for a moment, your eyes tracing the graceful movements of his hands. Then, you return your gaze to the dull and boring ceiling above you. A minute or two later, something shifts, and the whole galaxy seems to pause as Crosshair stands over you, his expression stoic. "Move up."

You blink up at him, words caught in your throat. "Huh?"

"Move," he commands, taking a step closer. His voice holds a hint of determination. "Up."

And you comply, shifting your position to make room for him.

He lays down, and the atmosphere in the cramped bunk is charged with tension. Both of you are stiff, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the ceiling, your hearts pounding in the confined space.

Summoning your courage, you turn your head to face him. "Why are you in my bunk?"

You see him suck on the inside of his cheek, a subtle sign of his nerves, and you wonder what's going through his mind. He turns to face you, his face incredibly close, his piercing eyes locking onto yours. "Do you want me to leave?"

You find yourself briefly lost in the depths of his eyes, drawn into their enigmatic allure, but you snap out of your trance before it becomes awkward, shaking your head slightly. "No," you whisper softly, your heart fluttering as you watch him turn his head away to gaze at the ceiling once more.

A silence descends once again, a little more comfortable than the last, and just as you begin to relax, you're nearly startled when you feel his fingers, with the utmost gentleness, twitch toward yours.

You hold your breath, uncertain if it was accidental, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, his fingers gradually interlace with yours. Slowly, you close your hand, allowing the realisation to sink in that you are holding Crosshair's hand.

Crosshair remains quiet for a while, and you don't mind the silence. However, when he does speak, his voice is barely above a whisper. "You can sleep into me," he says, his voice tinged with a hint of nervousness, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "If it would help you sleep better."

"Really?"

"Yes," he replies swiftly, anticipating your question. "Cuddle... into me."

How could you resist such an invitation?

You quietly shift onto your side, laying your head in the crook of his torso and armpit, your arm draping delicately over his toned frame. If this wasn't an innocent gesture, you might have melted at the sensation of his body against yours.

You half-expected him to flee, second-guessing his decision, but instead, he chuckles lowly. "Don't be scared, come closer." His words send a pleasant shiver down your spine, and you shake off any distracting thoughts, pressing yourself more firmly against him and sighing contentedly.

But nothing feels better than when his arms snake around you, pulling you close, and he lays a hand on the back of your head, gently massaging your hair.

Your eyes flutter closed, and you hum in delight. "Crosshair, you don't need to do this," you comment shyly after a few minutes.

"If I didn't want to, I wouldn't," he replies, gently meeting your gaze. For a brief moment, your gazes fully lock, not just fleeting glances. His eyes roam your face and pause briefly at your lips, but he doesn't give in. Instead, he smiles, a soft and rare expression.

"Go to sleep now, darling."

As soon as your eyes fall shut, you drift off into a peaceful slumber, and not a single nightmare disturbs your rest.

Masterlist

More Crosshair Works

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @imalovernotahater @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @photogirl894 @id-rather-be-a-druid @the-bad-batch-baroness

#crosshair x reader #crosshair x fem!reader #bad batch crosshair #bad batch crosshair x reader #nahoney22 writes #the bad batch #crosshair bad batch x you

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romanoffsbish · 6 months

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Excavate My Love

Originally titled “Oh Honey… You Should go to Therapy” 😗✌🏼| Hurt/Comfort | WC: 2,384

Natasha felt a tension in the air as soon as she entered your apartment, it was her home away from home since you were in it; she essentially lived here anyways. It had been only two months as a couple, but you'd known (and loved) each other for years by now. The words might not have left your timid lips yet, but you were feeling every ounce of joy and pain imaginable. The sensation was odd, to feel the conflicting emotions at the same time while also feeling that pure, raw love.

You were trembling with the need to say it to her, but you were petrified and having a nervous breakdown.

——

Natasha saw you pounding a fist into the side of your head as you sobbed and screamed incoherently. The redhead took you down with gentle precision. Her body pressing your thrashing one into the mattress.

"Detka, what's wrong?" Natasha slammed your arms into the bed and pressed your head into the pillow with her own, then she began to hum a soft, raspy lullaby. The thrashing came to an end when you felt her tear trail down your cheek, and mix with your sweaty hair.

You blinked rapidly and your mind came back to you before it escaped again, but now she was out in the open. The deepest of your fears came tumbling out.

"She won't love you back," you mumbled, mimicking your priorly echoing thoughts. "Don't say it dumbass."

Natasha was mortified, had she really not been clear enough? Her heart never stopped aching when she was apart from you, a side effect of the muscle finally being at rest unlike when it races beside yours everyday.

It sadly wasn't anything she did, and the same was to be said for what she could've done. This was inevitable, you were like clay, soft, fragile; destined to crack.

Fate, or more so, your childhood had led you here.

Your mother drowned her liver in booze and offered you tobacco stained cheek kisses as you were ushered out of the house in ill fitting clothes, hair sopping wet in the dead of a New York Winter. The chill froze your childish face, skin stinging as the warmth of your tears began to defrost your chubby cheeks. It was fitting.

Unlike your parents, with each other or parenthood.

Your dad only came around from time to time to see (use) your mother. They'd made your little brother while you played outside, the streets empty of kids as the lights flickered on, but you weren't alone, you had your growing family of broken rocks to talk to. And the neighbors to eat from because your mother gave up the grocery money so your dad could enter the lottery.

At school you'd do stupid things, like eat food off the floor with a shoe print as a dare, because just like every time before he lost, and you paid the ultimate price.

It was a wonder how you even got this far in life. That the ability to love another wasn't missing, but in the pits of the fire you wished it was. It was all too much.

You only learned how to love from shitty television like Grey's Anatomy and corny romcoms. Oddly enough, the contradictions brought you a sense of peace. The hope was vaguely flickering inside of you, but the looming tragedy was always just a breath away. It was oddly comforting to see love at both ultimate extremes.

It softened the blow of your life. Watching Callie and Arizona is what made you realize you loved women. That and while everyone was drooling over the odd McMen, the resident Christina Yang, held your heart in the palm of her hands. Unapologetically herself, with a middle finger up to society, and everything that you found charming in a woman; in your Natasha.

Meredith reminded you too much of yourself, as you too took the worst parts of your parents to make up your personality. Until Natasha, you too found yourself drowning your liver most nights, following in your mother's footsteps, then after you were seeing blobs instead of people, your fathers as you took women home for fun. Breaking their hearts, but unlike him, the rubber was fastened to your waist with efficiency.

You were cold, and downright sadistic. You'd whisper lusty things into their ears, along with the sweet, building up their hopes for something more. Then you'd kick them out, in the dead of winter—your cousins taxi service made loads of money off of you.

You didn't care; love had only ever left you bruised.

That's why you sent the women anonymous apology flowers, because you obviously didn't care. You were as cold as the ice that encased your parent's hearts, or you at least tried to be. Truth be told though, beneath the well polished, stoic surface you were just a fragile little thing in search of a nurturing kind of love.

The love of a mother one would suppose, alas...

You hadn't seen or heard from her in over a decade. Except for when she tried to hustle you out of money the moment they saw you with Natasha online. Up until then they hadn't called you, it was sickening.

Your parents had kicked you out at sixteen when they caught you kissing Lily; they weren't homophobic. That you knew because your mom used to bone your ex-godmother and your father had special toys and modern women ran in the opposite direction of him (his decayed, crooked smile was genuinely off putting).

Your father tossed you out, but your mother slammed the door. After midnight, once your dad had gone to sleep she exited her house with a bag of your things. Flashes of a group home raced through your mind and you felt the tears sting your icy cheeks, a tobacco kiss laid to your skin to be followed by a deafening silence.

Her loss stung more. With him it was expected, but not with her because it wasn't always like this, but when she lost her mind that ability to love unconditionally followed. She didn't need him, yet she let him call the shots, choosing a twisted affair over the everlasting love of a child—her instincts barren. You don't exactly remember everything, some of the memories have been buried deep in your psyche, but the core ones never leave, they haunt you endlessly. You'll never forget the image of your little brother crying, face pressed to his window as he watched you leaving.

Your parents were the nightmare that hid behind the fable that is the American Dream. They were vile and you reckon he's the only reason your heart worked.

Your heart that beat for only a select few people. One of them being the woman restraining you to a bed.

"Y/N," Natasha said your name for the millionth time, "I need you to come back to me now moya lyubov'."

Your lip began to tremble and she could feel the shake of your skin with her forehead pressed to yours. "Oh honey," she'd coo'd, which really only set you back off as you felt entirely too undeserving of her love.

You knew you were deserving of some love though.

"I deserved better," you mumbled and her heart froze as she hadn't heard the phrase clearly. "W-what?" The redhead had been trying not to blame herself but now she wasn't so sure if she heard your words correctly.

She hadn't, and you forcefully pushed her back some to repeat your prior words. "And so do you Nat."

"Y/N," she said in a plea, "You're making no sense."

"I'm not good enough for you Natasha! I am hellish!"

Natasha scoffed, "You are plenty good!"

"No, I'm really not."

"Knock it off!" Natasha was pissed, but not at you. It all was making sense to her now and she couldn't cope with the appearing reality. "I'm damaged goods Natasha, how could you ever want me?" I-If my own parents didn't want me, then neither should you."

Natasha never had parents, so she didn't understand. But as she felt you trying to hit yourself (again), making her—the Black Widow, actually struggle she's not sure she really wanted to. Alexei and Melina, who gave her back to Dreykov seemed better to her now.

"Detka please," the woman pleaded, the croak in her voice bringing you to a sudden stop. In a split second the woman had rolled off of you, which nearly made you whine but your body followed hers. Natasha now sat with her back to the headboard with you between her legs, your head gently cradled to her chest while her other hand cautiously pressed into your back.

The redhead said nothing, partly because she wanted to give you space, but also because she didn't want to scare you off. You'd just voiced your wish to leave, and for her sake nonetheless. Silent tears streamed down her face as she prematurely mourned your love story.

Tragedy was more fitting. Natasha was conditioned not to feel and you went from batches of numb to these moments of total despair that you usually hid well. So well even that Natasha is only just seeing it, there were cracks in your resolve before, but never to this extent. Natasha was rightfully worried, she also understood.

The world was a cruel place, with unfair rules and devious people in charge. You were both outcasts in terms of societal standards, but you shouldn't be because one's past mistakes, or moments of despair shouldn't make up the entire person's story. They deserved better than to be held with such ignorance.

"I never had anything to call my own before you."

You jumped, startled by her voice that was full of fatigue and pain after an hour of eery silence. It had you sitting up, against her push, and facing her more directly. Breaking you even further, if that was even possible, as you saw her unmistakably bloodshot eyes.

"Natasha," you whimpered, hand traveling up to clean her face of tears, she smiled fondly as her lips pressed to your palm before she lifted her head to hold eye contact more fiercely. "What I deserve is you, Y/N."

"I-."

"I deserve to hold you in times like these, and to get the chance to show you how much I love you. Because I do detka, with all of me, and it's okay: our love is safe."

"No love is safe," you chuckled bitterly and she sighed, "Ours is Y/N, because we will work to make it such. I promise you that I will protect you from the worst."

"You can't promise that."

"I can," she cut you off, "I can and I will because the option of you leaving is not one I'll ever align with."

"I'm messed up Nat." The redhead nodded, lips lifting into a pained smile. "I know honey, but that's okay."

"Is it?" Natasha nodded again, and pulled your body even closer, your chests now touching. "For now, yes."

"What about the later?" You brokenly inquired.

"I would be there too, but I hope the later is better," she murmured against your cheek, lips softly kissing your wet skin. "I'll do anything to make sure you are okay detka. You are my main priority, which is why I plan to move in, officially, and take care of you."

"Nat—." Your rebuttal was cut off by a sweet kiss. "None of that detka, just tell me you love me too."

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you wondered if she felt the rumble too. If she did, she took no offense as she smiled at you, it was uncharacteristically timid.

You saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes; Natasha needed to hear them just as much as you needed to shout 'em.

Which is why you blurted, "I love you so much it burns, like if I took my shirt off my skin might be torched."

Natasha chuckled, unintentionally, because she knew you'd mistake the affection for mockery. "I love you so much that it feels like I'm without a heart when away. My mission's efficiency rates are so high because of it."

A sigh of relief left her when you chuckled, it was also in relief, she knew that much as your body stopped squirming; you stayed in her lap and pouted instead.

She chuckled, "What is it now lyubov'?" Natasha knew by the glow of your eyes that she could be playful now. You knew she already knew what you wanted, but you leaned up and stole a kiss on principle of being a brat.

"I'm sorry."

"No," Natasha softly scolded you. "I'm sorry detka, for not seeing you were in so much pain and suffering with your feelings. I should have made you feel my love."

"I did feel you Natty, I-I just couldn't believe in it."

"Why not?"

"It's never been true before, every person who's ever made me feel loved was only ever placating me," you solemnly said, "I know they didn't intend to do it, in the beginning they felt something, but it was a selfish fulfillment sorta thing. I have always been the person people go to in search of unconditional love, because I will give it without question, they'd twist it out of me. But you weren't twisting, and it's all so confusing."

"That's not love," Natasha grimaced, "I'm not an expert here Y/N, in fact I'm a late bloomer with the entire feeling, but I know now that I'd never give this up."

"Most days I feel like giving up, my mind is a void and you deserve a partner that doesn't come with that."

"Please stop pushing that," Natasha sighed, exhaustion obvious as she ran her free hand down her face. "I'm not going anywhere, you deserve someone that stays."

You mulled over her words for a long minute, both of you holding your breath, and only ever releasing it as you nuzzled into her warmth and whispered, "Then I'm glad it's you, my fiercest protector, my love, my Natty."

"My precious love," Natasha followed, "My beautiful, strong, resilient as one can be, detka—my Y/N."

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff hurt comfort #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader #gxg

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lost-in-lamentation · 17 days

Text

i'm actually going mad over the fact that i may have lost my nb acc forever

you push the door to levi's room open, disregarding the password and opting to head straight to his bathtub. levi doesn't even realise that you've entered until the door slams unceremoniously loud behind you, making him jolt out of his gaming chair and whip around to face you. he stutters an incoherent sentence, but quickly falls quiet when you flop down into blankets that cushion the porcelain walls.

"they deleted my devil craft account! i spent so much time on that world too!" the outburst leaves him shocked, causing him to set down his controller and slowly roll himself over to you. "jeez, you don't log in for like, two months, and they take it as a reason to delete all your data."

levi leans his elbows on the edge of the tub, hands twiddling above your face as searches for the words to say. finally, he settles on an offer rather than comfort. "if you want- and you don't have to say yes! but if you want, i have an alt account on devil craft. there's not as much stuff on there as your main had, but i think you might like the world i started building." levi's words taper off, confidence wavering when he sees you blink up at him in disbelief.

but then a grin breaks out on your face, and levi feels the relief flooding through his veins. "will you share your other worlds with me if i say yes?"

"i-if you're okay with sharing, then i'll share anything you want me to share."

"deal."

you reach your hands up to close around his, and before levi has the chance to pull away with a scream, you drag him down into the tub next to you. levi falls next to you with a dull thud, pressing into your side as he slides down onto the blankets. you can't help but laugh at his expression, all anger forgotten as you watch levi debate internally about whether he should run away or finally give in.

so levi icon what do we think everyone

reblogs are really appreciated (´ω｀) ♡

#drrrrrrabble #obey me #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #obey me levi #shall we date leviathan #leviathan obey me #obey me leviathan #leviathan x reader #aris writes 🐈‍⬛

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queenshelby · 21 days

Text

An Illicit Affair

Part 27: Hard Choices

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

After thinking about it for several minutes, Max finally picked up the phone and called his father. His voice was tight, muscles tensed with anger and resentment. Cillian answered on the first ring, his voice guarded.

"Max?" he asked tentatively, unsure of what was going on. "Are you alright?" he wanted to know, seeing that Max had ignored his attempts to make contact with him during recent times, so his call surprised Cillian.

Max took a deep breath, his shoulders tensing. "No, dad, I am not alright," he replied tersely. stammering slightly.

Cillian's heart skipped a beat. "What's wrong, Max? Tell me where you are and I'll come right away," Cillian said urgently.

"It's not me that needs help, dad. It's Y/N. She's been in an accident, and she's in the hospital," Max said, trying to keep his voice steady.

"She was hit by a car," he added quietly, trying to process the information himself while Cillian gasped silently.

Cillian's heart clenched, and he could feel the air being knocked out of him. He breathed heavily, his mind racing with questions. "Is she okay? Did they say anything about her injuries? Which hospital is she in?" Cillian asked, trying to hold onto his composure., blurting out questions almost incoherently.

"She's at the university hospital. She's stable, but they had to remove one of her kidneys. Her leg is shattered too, and I don't know what to do, dad, they're asking me to make decisions about her treatment, but I can't do that," Max said, his voice breaking slightly.

Cillian took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "Max, listen to me. I'm on my way," Cillian said, his voice cracking as he quickly slipped into his boots and reached for his wallet and key.

"Okay," Max replied, his voice quiet as he hung up the phone. "He is coming right now," he then informed Lucy, causing her to let out a sigh of relief before asking the attending doctor whether he could leave now.

The doctor, however, told him that he could not seeing that it was still him who was listed as your next of kin rather than Cillian and, what Max said next, surprised both Lucy and the surgeon.

"Yeah, but that's a mistake. They are kind of together," Max said, avoiding the surgeon's gaze as his cheeks burned up with embaressment and discomfort.

The surgeon raised an eyebrow, surprised by Max's words. "I am confused," he said, looking back and forth between Lucy and Max. "Are you telling me that your father is the patient's partner rather than you?" the doctor asked, trying to make sense of what Max had just told him.

Lucy's heartbeat quickened. This was the moment of truth. She had promised Y/N that she would never reveal their affair to Cillian. It was their secret to keep. But at this point, Lucy couldn't care less as all she wanted was for Y/N to be taken care of by someone who loved her and who could make informed decisions about her medical treatment.

Lucy nodded. "Yeah, kind of," she thus affirmed, her voice strong and confident while Max simply swallowed harshly and nodded. "But it's more complicated than that," she then said, trying to downplay the gravity of the affair as she held her breath waiting for the doctor's response even though she knew he wouldn't approve.

However, the surgeon simply nodded, seemingly understanding the implications of Lucy's words. "Alright then, I'll have one of the interns prepare the forms to appoint him as a next of kin, but until the patient is conscious and can confirm that she would intend someone other than the person listed on her current records to make those decisions for her, we have to keep working under the assumption that Max has the authority to do so," the surgeon explained, causing both Lucy and Max to nod in agreement.

Max, however, still looked uncomfortable and out of sorts, but as the gravity of the situation began to sink in, Max knew that he had to put aside his personal feelings and do what was best for you. He couldn't let his own ego and personal feelings get in the way of your care and well being.

"So, what I suggest is that we will wait until your father gets here and, when he arrives, I will discuss the treatment plan with the both of you for you to decide on together ," the surgeon offered kindly, noticing the strain on Max's face.

Max nodded, still looking uncomfortable. "That sounds good," he finally said, his voice quiet and, just as Max spoke to the surgeon, his father came running towards them.

Cillian's eyes scanned the area, taking in the white-tiled floors and the antiseptic smell of the hospital. "Where is she? Is she okay?" Cillian asked, his voice laced with concern as he approached his son, Lucy and the doctor.

Lucy stepped forwards, her voice steady, and her gaze direct. "She is stable, but that's about it," she said honestly, and Cillian nodded, his eyes still scanning the area.

Max could see that his father's eyes were red-rimmed, as if he had been crying , and he felt a pang of sympathy for him. He knew that his father cared for you deeply, and that the thought of you being in danger would be tearing him apart inside.

The surgeon nodded in agreement. "Indeed, she is in stable condition, but her injuries are severe. She has a head injury and she is unconscious and has been ever since she arrived, we think it is most likely a concussion from the impact," he explained to Cillian.

"Can I see her?" Cillian asked with tear filled eyes. His hands were shaking, and Lucy could see the worry etched onto his face.

"I am afraid that this isn't possible. She is still in theatre and we will need to make a decision with regards to her leg. Currently, her right leg is severely damaged, and we have three options. We can isolate the injuries until she can recover from her concussion and while her body deals with impacts from the dialysis for her left kidney," the doctor began before taking a deep breath. "But the problem with this approach is that the leg will be beyond repair once isolated and she will need surgery in a few weeks to go through an amputation procedure," the doctor explained professionally and, immediately, his heart dropped. "It's the safest option and the one I would recommend to ensure her recovery," he explained again, leaving Cillian utterly speechless.

"And the other options are?" Cillian finally managed to ask, his voice barely audible as he struggled to process the doctor's words.

"The other options are not ideal, I'm afraid. The second option is to perform emergency surgery to repair the leg, but there's a risk that she could have an adverse reaction to the anesthesia given her current state, and there's a significant chance that her leg may not heal completely even with the surgery," the doctor replied gravely.

"And the third option?" Cillian asked, bracing himself for the worst.

"The third option is to amputate the leg immediately," the doctor explained, his voice gentle but firm.

Cillian felt his heart drop. He couldn't believe what he was hearing as you were lying in a hospital bed, fighting for your life, and he had to make a decision that could potentially change the course of your life forever.

He turned to Max and Lucy, his eyes pleading for guidance.

"What is the success rate if you were to proceed with option two? And how soon would the operation have to take place?" Cillian asked with surmounting dread and anxiety.

The surgeon looked at Cillian with a grave expression, knowing that the answer he was about to provide would not be easy to hear. "The success rate for option two is only around sixty percent given the severity of the damage. There is a considerable risk of infection and nerve damage. The operation would need to be performed as soon as possible, as any delay would decrease the chances of success," he replied honestly, making sure to convey the importance of this decision. "The main issue is that she is concussed and, by performing this surgery, we will put her at risk of stroke or brain damage," he further added.

Cillian took a deep breath, trying to push down the anger and frustration that was rising within him. How could this have happened?

"So she could die during the surgery?" Max interjected , his voice laced with disbelief and the surgeon nodded gravely. "That's a huge risk to take, dad," he added, looking at Cillian, his gaze full of concern.

"It is, but it's one that we might have to take," Cillian said, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt overwhelmed with emotions. Fear, anger, guilt, and love all warred within him.

"But we can't," Max said, shaking his head. "I am not going to sign off on something that could kill her!"

"Max, think about it," his father said. "What would Y/N want to do?" Cillian asked gently, as if trying to remind Max of the person who was at the center of this whole ordeal. It was your life on the line, and they needed to make a decision that would respect your wishes as much as possible.

Lucy nodded, her eyes misty. "I agree with your dad, Max. We need to consider what she would want. All she wants is to be surgeon herself. She studied so hard for this. She also wants to go travelling still, hiking, running, living her best life," she said, her voice cracking with emotion.

Max took a deep breath, trying to process everything that was happening.

"Dad?" Max asked, his voice quiet and uncertain. "Are you sure about this?" Max asked again, searching his father's face for any signs of uncertainty.

Cillian took a deep breath, holding Max's gaze. "Yes, I'm sure," he said, his voice firm and steady. "Y/N is a fighter and she would want us to have the surgeons try and save her leg. If anyone can pull through this, it's her," he said, trying to inject some optimism into his words.

"But what if she dies?" Max asked, the words hanging heavy in the air.

Cillian took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving Max's. "Then that is on me, not you," he said, his voice heavy with emotion.

Max looked away, pained. "Fine," he finally said. "We'll go with option two." He would sign the consent forms, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this was a mistake.

The surgeon nodded, taking the consent forms from a nurse and handing them to Max.

"Very well then. We will proceed with option two. I will notify the surgical team to prepare for the operation," he said, watching as Max signed his name on the dotted line. "It will be a long and difficult road ahead, but I am confident that with time, rehabilitation, and support, Y/N can recover from this," he added, giving Max a reassuring smile before turning to leave.

Lucy watched the surgeon go, feeling a mixture of relief and unease.

She turned back to Max and Cillian, both of whom were lost in their own thoughts. She desperately wanted to tell Cillian about the stalker you had told her about, but knew that now was not the time. Now was the time for focusing on getting you better and Cillian was clearly struggling to keep his composure as he waited for the surgical team to prepare for the operation.

Lucy took a deep breath and moved closer to Cillian, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "She is going to be okay," she said, her voice soft and soothing.

Cillian looked at her, his eyes filled with gratitude for her presence and support. "I hope so," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't lose her, you know. I just can't," Cillian said, his eyes filling up with tears.

Lucy's heart ached for him. She knew how much he loved you, and it was clear that the thought of losing you was enough to break him.

"She's a fighter," Lucy reassured him while even Max remained quiet, no longer caring about the somewhat strange dynamics in his family right now.

It was irrelevant compared to the life-and-death situation they were currently facing and all he hoped for was a favorable outcome for you.

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jaebeomsbitch · 8 months

Text

Puppy (R.R) Smut

Pt.I

Summary: Sending Roman a present turns into a sexy phone call

Warnings: MINORS DNI! Masturbation, degradation, phone sex?, guided masturbation, dom/sub dynamics.

Authors Note: God was so fun to write this. The virgin Eddie fic is like 90% done!

Roman was used to meeting the world with witty quips and that smug smile on his face. He never registered it as awkward as it is. Everyone around him could see how he was shouldering the pain away. Shoving against it like a football player during practice.

He doesn’t see you again until the day of his fathers funeral. Until you’re getting the police to open up the fence and drag him up off the floor, pulling him into his Escalade and sitting in complete silence as his driver takes you both to his penthouse.

You gently clean up his wounds, undress him, hand him some pain killers and water then tuck him into bed with a kiss to his forehead. He doesn’t understand it. Why would you randomly come back to take care of him like this? You’d just left like it was nothing, it really was nothing. It was some flirting at best but here you were toeing off your heels and digging through his closet for a sleep shirt.

You knew he’d never have the courage to ask you to stay. So you slip off your dress and put on his shirt sliding into the cool sheets of his bed and pressing him against your chest like a mother would to a child. It’s not long until he’s uncontrollably sobbing in your arms. He babbles incoherently as you rub his back. You hold him for what seems like hours until his tears are dried and the shirt you borrowed is full of snot. The bandaid on his face falling from his face.

You stand up pulling a bandaid out from your phone case. You’d have it there for emergencies, in case your heels cut up your ankles. He sits there sniffling trying to push your hand away as you place a blue bandaid on him. It’s got a fat puppy all over it, like snoopy but different.

You let him tucker himself out until he’s passed out on his bed, his fingers clutched to the shirt you’re wearing, red nosed, and puffy eyed.

When you wake up he acts like nothing happened but he’s dressed differently. He’s no longer adorned with opulent suits but instead in baggy shorts and a T-shirt. He sips his coffee, that same smug smile adorning his face as he asks “ So how’d you sleep last night?”

You smile, seeing past his façade, seeing that scared little boy from last night. “Better with my kitten” you say in an annoying tone slipping back into teasing each other. You hug him tightly, almost spilling his hot coffee onto your arm. He’s trying not to laugh.

“Well I’m not a kitten, I’m a tiger if anything. I’ll fuckin’ rip you to shreds” he scoffs sipping his bitter drink, pushing you off of him even though he craves the heat of your skin.

“Fine, you’re my puppy then” you laugh, opening his refrigerator and grabbing an orange juice. He doesn’t say anything, he eyes you wearily. Sipping his drink but internally his heart pounds against his ribs.

You sip your drink watching him as he watches you like you’re in an old western movie ready to draw your guns. You silently finish your juice washing the cup as Roman makes a comment about how only peasants wash their dishes.

Before he knows it you’re dressed and ready to slip out of his apartment and probably out of his life again. A part of him wants to beg for you to stay but his fragile ego won’t let him. He’d begged Gerri to stay and she threw it in his face. He couldn’t risk being hurt again and yet as you leave reminding him to call a doctor to stitch him up, his heart aches.

He didn’t get to ask your name again. Miss Business and Pleasure… He wants to know who you are. Even if you’re just some low level employee at Waystar trying to kiss ass to climb the ladder. He sits on his his couch like Bella in Twilight, memories of the funeral, of his fuck up eating away at his soul. Any obligation to follow your orders and eat breakfast is long gone since you left. He feels that ache in his stomach and welcomes it. He deserves the pain for being useless. Everything was bullshit but most of all Roman was bullshit.

He was always a pawn in a game he could never win. The court jester sent to fuck clients like a common whore despite his inability to get hard.

Then there’s a package at the front desk. His mind racing, what could it be? Maybe another condolence gift, fuck em. Who cares? His father was dead and he was finally free of the cage and yet he could feel the familiar press of metal against his skin. He can practically see his siblings taunting him for being a weakling, dog bowl full of chow and water ready for him to dig in.

The Gojo deal goes through he feels empty and free but chained… to what? Who knows. Like he'll never truly be free of the dog cage he grew accustomed to. The package sits in a pile until he finally decides to open them. Most of them have cards obviously written by personal assistants by rich fucks who can’t take the two seconds to write ‘sorry your dad died :/’ followed by bottles of expensive booze. Like that’s cured the crater in his chest. Maybe they wanted him to become an alcoholic. “34 year old Roman Roy found dead, choked on his own vomit,” he could almost imagine it. Taste the bile in his throat and the burn of the liquor in his chest.

He gets to the last package opening it without a care. He rips through the tissue paper, the unfamiliar feeling on his fingertips before he registers what it is. It’s a blush pink collar. Why would someone send him a dog collar? Wait, this one was bigger and thicker… there’s a golden name plate that hangs from the middle of it, “Puppy” it reads. The metal jingles as he holds it up closer to his face.

“What the fuck?” He mumbles.

Fingers searching through the packet until his index finger hits a corner of a paper. He pulls it out, a pink letter addressed to Roman well… to Puppy. He rips open the paper. There’s nothing on the paper, well no words it’s a phone number.

Before he can think he’s dialing the number like he’s just a normal schmuck. He should probably at least Google search it but the phone is ringing and his heart pounds in his throat. He knows who this is from.

“Romulus, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You say picking up on the third ring.

“It’s you” he says, taken aback.

“So it is. I take it you loved the present” you say, smirk on your lips. That familiar smug tone in your voice.

“You want me to bark and sit on command too?” He asks, joking around with you.

“I take it you didn’t see the back of the card” you reply. His hands go back to the note flipping it.

“Sex dwarf by Soft Cell” it reads and then “send me a photo of it on, Puppy” all in your hand writing.

“As if I’d do what you told me” he scoffs.

You laugh, “Why do I have a feeling you’re already hard imagining yourself on your knees for me? Crawling around your kitchen on all fours all pretty for me”

“Seems like someone’s got a sick fetish. You’d like to break me down or something? Too bad I’m more emotionally stable that your fucking Psychologist,” Roman says.

“We’ll see,” You say smugly over the phone before hanging up. Roman’s heart pounds, what the fuck did that mean? Would he see you again? Would he really have to wear the collar?

Weeks go by, his fingers itch to call you again. To hear your voice even over the shitty receiver of his pissed on phone. He doesn’t though, there’s a certain challenge between you going on. Like whoever contacts the other loses and yet, he knew if you reached out first you’d still somehow be winning. It was Roman who had all to lose in your invisible competition. Maybe it was all in his head?

There’s another box brought to him, this one a matching leash to his collar. His body can’t help it. He flushes with color imagining your red bottomed heels digging into his back, pressing his face to his tiled floor as you call him sick names, the leather biting at his skin on his neck. Before he knows it he’s walking over to his bedroom taking out the collar and matching leash and touching himself imagining it. His head tipped back, imagining the curl of your lips, that look of disgust on your face and then he’s coming all over his sheets. The collar and leash dripping with cum. He takes a photo and sends it to you waiting for a response like a puppy waiting for his owner.

“See, I knew you liked it” you text, and then it's radio silence. Until his phone is ringing through the silent room. His fingers shaking, pants still down his thighs.

“If it isn’t my owner,” He says sarcastically, fingers smudging the cum into the leather.

“Put it on Romulus,” You say sternly over the phone.

“That’s fucking-” He tries to protest.

“Put the collar on like a good boy or I’ll have to punish you,” You say.

“Oh I’m fucking trembling, what could you possibly do?” He says sarcastically.

“I’m not asking again. Put the collar on or you’re never hearing from me again Romulus,” You say with a finality. He gulps, weirdly turned on by your threat despite jerking himself off less than five minutes ago. He puts the phone down, hands grabbing the collar and tightening it on his neck, his cum smearing all over his throat.

“I’m not doing it,” He says, trying to sound stern, hand already playing with himself as he grabs the phone. You don’t say anything, his hand grabbing his hard cock and stroking himself slowly.

“Mhm sure you're not,” You say condescendingly.

“I’m holding it in my hand,” He quips back, fingers teasing the head of his cock before going back to stroke himself. He tries to keep his voice steady and breath even but the collar is doing more to him than he’d like to admit.

“I know you Puppy. I know you’re touching yourself right now, imagining me telling how fucking disgusting you are. You’re a sick fuck Roman. Touching yourself while wearing my collar, you want to be owned don’t you? Want me to force you to admit how much you like this,” You say seductively.

You hear him shudder as he hears those words. You hear him moan as he imagines you towering over him. Calling him your filthy and disgusting puppy.

“Shit” He says, trying to hide the lust in his voice.

“How’s it feel to touch yourself with your puppy tag bouncing on your throat? You’re my fucking toy to play with Rome. Let me hear how good it feels to fuck your hand while thinking of me,” You say.

“You’re disgusting,” he says, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s now wearing the collar. You can hear as he tries to hide how much you’re turning him on, his face flushed. You can hear the jingling of his collar and a puff of breath with his every movement.

“How did you know I was wearing it?” He asks you.

“Cause you want to be called a good boy,” You chuckle. Chills trickle down his spine, his face red as he strokes himself faster, teeth clenched trying to hold back his moans. He can’t hold back for much longer. You know you can just keep driving him further and further and he knows too. He’s at your mercy, has been since the first night you met.

“You’re right,” he says. His voice is shaky and weak and he’s breathing very heavily.

“You’re disgusting Roman. You’re a sick fuck, God if you’re father knew you were jerking off with a dog collar on he’d smack you in the face,” you say into your phone. You knew he liked degradation from the way his breath hitched over the receiver.

“Let me hear how good your hand is making you feel Puppy,” You command.

“F-Fuck,” He moans, the jingling becoming more aparrent. His moans are mixed with the squelching of his hand on his cock. His precum dripping out, stomach tensing as he feels the burn in his belly.

His eyes are closed. You can almost hear the blood coursing through your veins as his breaths get heavier. God what you wouldn’t do to see him right now. Cock in his hand, thighs quivering, head tilted upward trying to hold onto a semblance of himself as he fucked his fist as you tell him what to do.

“Oh God,” is all he can manage to say. “Fuck- Fuck– m’disgusting,” He pants, the tingle at the base of his spine feeling electrifying.

“That’s it pup, you’re close aren’t you? Let me hear you. Fuck, wish I could see those big puppy eyes begging me to let you cum” You say breathily. The jingle of his collar ringing in your ears.

His orgasm builds and builds until his thighs are trembling like he just ran a marathon, a mixture of moans and curse words spilling out his lips. He’s in pure heaven, hand stroking over himself as he spills onto his thighs, eyes rolling back, mouth open as moans spill out.

“F-fuuuck” he pants as he relaxes against his bed. His phone pressed to his ear.

His phone still pressed against his ear, he struggles to catch his breath. He listens to his own heavy breathing. He can feel the chills going down his spine as his chest rises and falls. His breathing is shallow, short and fast as his brain is completely fried. He can’t think about anything other than the pleasure he just felt.

“Oh God,” he says again, trying to find words to show how he’s feeling. But he can’t say anything else. Not after what you just did to him.

“Good boy, Romey” you coo.

“Fuck you,” He pants.

“You wish,” You chuckle.

“Now, follow your commands and send me a photo,” You say not letting him answer as you hang up immediately. Roman’s brain is complete mush. Fuck you, who did you think you were demanding a photo? A part of him also wanted to comply. The deep rooted feeling of wanting approval gnawing at him. Why did those two words from you send a shiver down his spine? God was he doing this? What if you sent this photo to someone else?

Nonetheless ten minutes later your phone buzzes with a text. It’s a photo of Roman, his face cropped out but his neck adorned with that pink collar covered in his cum, his torso covered with a dress shirt, slacks down just enough for his cock to be free. He completely ruined his expensive suit, it’s all painted in his cum.

“Good boy,” You reply.

Roman had found himself in a completely different dog cage. One without his siblings cackling at him and forcing him to bark on command. Now you were outside the cage, images of your body clad in lingerie, insults passing through your lips, taunting him from outside of his metaphorical cage. Roman was your wholly devoted Puppy even if he wasn’t willing to fully admit it.

#roman roy #succession #succession hbo #succession roman #roman roy imagine #roman roy x reader #roman roy / reader #roman roy smut #roman roy x reader smut #romulus roy #sub and dom #sub and dom dynamics #roman is a sub #roman roy x female reader #roman roy au #slight angst #slight fluff #logan roy funeral mention #Spotify

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planetkiimchi · 7 months

Text

and they were roommates | l.dh

featuring: lee haechan x masc!reader, nct dream

warnings: a little (?) bit of gore, blood, and a “crunching sound” which in my head was bone breaking. swearing but not a lot, alcohol is mentioned, ynhyuck get really drunk at some point, the first line is a bit painful to read but that’s just what cold weather feels like, yn has major regrets quite a lot. y/n is oblivious but in their defense, donghyuck is really fucking flirty and the mixed signals are confusing to everyone. y/n doesn’t like coffee (deal with it) and eats pizza in the absolute weirdest way possible.

word count: 13882 words

playlist: nonsense by sabrina carpenter // photograph by ed sheeran // fallin' (adrenaline) by why don't we // sweet nothing by taylor swift // coffee shop by flowerovlove // really wanna dance with you by new rules

summary — lee donghyuck is the most flirtatious person you’ve ever known and he makes you feel welcome in the foreign country. it makes sense that you gravitate towards him, but what do you do when you realise you’re falling for him with every act of his?

a/n: this has been rotting in my drafts since march, and it really only made it out because of @winterchimez thank you so, so much to ally for reading this longass incoherent fic and allowing me to share this piece of my heart with you guys

if you liked it, REBLOG it.

THE BITING WIND BLEW HARSHLY at your cheeks, turning them redder than they already were. It felt as if there were a million shards of ice slowly chipping away at your skin, your skin cells freezing off your face.

What a warm welcome to Seoul, you thought sardonically.

You had enrolled in Seoul Institute of the Arts for one reason alone, and that was that the only cousin who was your age, Na Jaemin, had applied to go there last year. Having made an unexpected decision not to go into Neurosciences like the rest of his friends, Jaemin found himself blissfully alone and afraid to apply. He wasn’t planning on going alone, yet he desperately wanted to get in, so he had decided to turn to you for assistance.

That was the first time you had heard him admit that you were his favourite cousin (you probably weren’t). You had been on the other end of the spectrum at the time, completely unsure what direction you wanted your life to continue in. You had had no idea what to pursue, and had hence decided to make an impulsive decision to apply to Seoul Institute of the Arts with Jaemin.

To be very honest, you hadn’t expected to get in. It was a spur of the moment decision, and SIA was an extremely prestigious university. Your background in visual arts was minimal, so you were mostly relying on your extensive dance history to carry you through it.

Unfortunately for you, it worked. This was how you had ended up on the plane to Seoul a year later, your regret almost as bitter as the cold when you thought about how lonely you would be.

Your grasp of the Korean language was minimal, and you hated how the phonetic sounds differed just slightly, enough for you to get it wrong but not for you to understand why.

It was alright when you lived in the United Kingdom, because there you only had to say a few words in Korean to impress your non-Korean relatives. Privately, your mother had taken you out of the Korean international school when she saw that your Korean hadn’t improved in the slightest.

In Korea, you would be disadvantaged both by the language barrier and your lack of passion for your major. Besides, if the weather continued to be as cold as it was at the moment, you might as well have stayed in England. At least there, you could romantically share an umbrella with someone in the dreary rain. What could you do in Korea, huddle with someone as you ran from building to building while a flurry of white snow fell from the sky? How pathetic.

You were absorbed in your thoughts, feet carrying you mindlessly through the steps towards the arrival area. You struggled and stuttered your way through immigration with broken sentences, finally making your way to the taxi stand.

You were mentally preparing yourself to exit the warmth of the airport and face the freezing temperatures when you heard your name, face turning towards the direction of the familiar voice.

Jaemin ran up to you, the soft smile gracing his face as close to a wide grin as you could get from him. He threw his hands around you, hugging you tightly, and you collapsed into his warmth, so relieved that he was there. Maybe Seoul wouldn’t be so bad after all.

When he let go of you, composing himself, you took the time to scan the new faces. Jaemin hadn’t come alone; he had come with three other friends, who were all looking at you expectantly with welcoming gazes.

“I’m L/n Y/n,” you told them politely. “Jaemin’s my cousin, and my mother and his father are siblings.” With that, you ran out of things to say, and you stared at the group with an awkward smile as the silence turned thick with hesitation.

The silence was then broken by a rather cheerful individual amongst Jaemin’s friends, who said, “Shall we go? It’s late, and I’m sure you’re tired from the long flight. We’ll take a taxi back to the dormitory and show you your room. You and Jaemin are staying together, right?”

You nodded gratefully as the young man took the lead, and the rest of you followed suit. Jaemin reached out to help you with your luggage, but you shook your head. There was no need since you hadn’t brought much to Korea. You intended to buy anything you needed there since you assumed the clothes you needed would be quite different from those you owned.

You quickly came to realise that the young man who had just spoken was the only extrovert in the group. You and Jaemin were introverts and perfectly content to sit in silence. The others didn’t seem to make any attempt to strike up a conversation, letting the silence settle comfortably over you. However, despite being in the passenger seat and therefore the furthest from the rest, the young man simply wouldn’t stop talking.

He introduced himself as Lee Donghyuck who had graduated from the same high school as Jaemin. He and Jaemin had only met a month ago when they first moved into the dorm. You had had to make arrangements for your flight when you received the acceptance letter, so you were among the later few to arrive.

Although Donghyuck and Jaemin were essentially strangers, it wouldn’t have seemed so to a passerby. Donghyuck ensured that there was never a dull or awkward moment and that no opportunity to flirt with his friends was missed.

You had only known Donghyuck for an hour and yet you were already starting to like him. You relaxed into the seat, closing your eyes and exhaling in relief as the sound of Donghyuck’s voice prattling away filled your ears.

He talked during the entire ride, telling you about the rooming conditions—four to a room, and you were with him, Renjun and Mark, the other two in the car—, the professors’ reputations that he had gotten from the seniors, and the other three boys who were sleeping and weren’t able to pick you up.

Usually a talk like that would have drained your energy, using up all your social battery trying to think of a reply to keep the conversation going. However, the thing about Donghyuck was that he didn’t expect you to answer. He was perfectly fine with the sound of his voice being the only thing filling the silence, which made it much more bearable.

—

You only realised that you had fallen asleep when Jaemin shook your shoulder to wake you up. In the corner of your bleary vision, you caught sight of Mark paying for the ride, and you instinctively reached for your wallet before realising it was safely tucked away in your back pocket. Which you were sitting on.

Sighing, you silently apologised to your parents for not maintaining basic etiquette and insisting on paying, clambering out of the taxi with shaky legs, feeling a little tired (not that you would admit it).

You soon realised that Donghyuck was a clingy person. While you leaned on Jaemin for support as you wheeled your luggage along, he leaned on Renjun’s shoulder, upbeat as ever despite the late timing. The high-pitched voice that he used to talk to Renjun would have been cringey if it wasn’t him doing it. Somehow, when Donghyuck was doing it, it was cute and endearing.

The room that you were assigned was on the second floor, so you had to choose between climbing the stairs and lugging the heavy luggage up or walking out of the way to find the lift.

Obviously, as the lazy person that you were, you chose the former. With a grunt and a heave, you somehow managed to get the luggage up the stairs while Donghyuck cheered you on.

“You’ve got this, Y/n! I believe in you!” When he saw that it wasn’t working, he even threw in a little “Fighting!” and you smiled despite your exhaustion. You would have laughed if the ache in your shoulders wasn’t killing you.

Fortunately, that was the hardest part. The rest was easy—you left your shoes outside the door, placed your luggage at the side so you could unpack your nightwear and take the things you needed for your shower. Donghyuck, Mark and Renjun followed you inside while Jaemin retreated to his own room.

The room was surprisingly cozy, with enough space for a bookcase, desk, and four single beds. There was a mini fridge in the corner of the room, so that was what you went to first.

The guys had placed their personal belongings neatly, so you followed suit, taking out your personal items and setting your luggage upright against the wall. While you did so, Mark and Donghyuck used the two attached restrooms to get changed while Renjun sat on the floor and watched you curiously.

“Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking? You couldn’t have studied in Korea, surely. Jaemin didn’t exactly tell us much about you,” Renjun said.

“My mother grew up in Korea, and went to England to study. She met my father there, and I grew up in England, but I do know a little Korean,” you said with difficulty. “And you? Your name doesn’t sound very Korean either.”

“I’m from China but came to Korea because my grandmother suggested it. I actually came on a scholarship and went to the same high school as Donghyuck. All of us went to the same one, actually.”

You nodded in understanding. Understandably, people gravitated towards those they knew, especially in unfamiliar environments.

“Donghyuck actually initiated this. I’m not sure if you realised, but he’s very outgoing. He somehow found out all of our phone numbers, knew of my existence through passing me in the hallways, got Jaemin’s number from a mutual friend, Jeno, and created a group chat. Even now, I still think it was a lot of effort, but it seems to have worked. And, you know, it isn’t half as awkward anymore.”

That did sound like something you would expect of Donghyuck, you thought. As Renjun finished speaking, Donghyuck and Mark came out of the restroom, and you brushed past them as you went inside to take a quick shower.

—

The shower did wonders for your exhaustion. Your muscles didn’t feel half as tense anymore, and you actually felt fresh and comfortable in warm clothes. You rubbed your hair dry as you exited the restroom, glancing at the filled beds.

Mark and Renjun were lying in bed, and they gave you a quick goodnight as you made your way over to the last empty bed, right next to Donghyuck. He was dressed in a baggy hoodie, sitting hunched over at the edge of his bed, looking intently at his phone.

If it were Jaemin, who also happened to have a terrible shrimp posture, you would have tapped his back to remind him to sit up straight, taken his phone from him while setting it down on the bedside table and told him to sleep.

As it was, he was Donghyuck, not your cousin, so you didn’t have the right to do so. Instead, you snuggled into your bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin until you were nice and warm, shutting your eyes as you said, “G’night, Donghyuck.”

You didn’t see him raise his head and turn to see you, smiling when he realised that you had spoken to him properly for the first time that day. He whispered softly, “G’night,” and put his phone away. He let out a sigh of relief as he flopped onto the bed and fell fast asleep.

YOU QUICKLY SETTLED INTO A ROUTINE at the university. It was easy to do so when each of your days had a set schedule and things for you to do. It was never monotonous, but the structure helped to keep you going and not stop.

In the mornings, you woke up to beverages on the table, which Donghyuck bought for everyone. At first, he hadn’t gotten your order right. He had memorised the others’ orders during the month that they had been roommates before you arrived, but took a couple of times to get what you wanted right.

Coffee from Donghyuck looked something like this: a cup of steaming hot coffee would somehow make its way to the table in the mornings after you came out of the shower, or finished changing your clothes. The coffee was always accompanied by a note. For Renjun, it was a compliment, and it was often about how pretty his eyes were. For Mark, it was either a “you’re so amazing, never forget it”, or a “stupid fool”. There was never an in-between.

And for you?

Well, on the first day, it was a frappuccino with plenty of sprinkles on it, the sugar content so high you were sure it made up for the lack of actual caffeine in it. That gave you a sugar rush so bad you could barely sit still in lectures, knees constantly jiggling under the table.

You knocked over your bottle twice that day and even almost dropped your laptop on the floor because your knee hit the bottom of the table, causing your laptop to slip.

After that, Donghyuck realised sugar wasn’t your thing.

The second day, he went for an espresso that probably had eight shots in it. (It was then accompanied by a pickup line, “do you have a map? cuz i got lost in your eyes”. It was cheesy, but some part of your heart found it cute.) You recognised it as Jaemin’s order, and had laughed to yourself when you realised that Donghyuck wasn’t very good at guessing what you liked.

However, you stopped laughing as soon as you tasted the drink. The espresso was pure caffeine, so black and bitter you wanted to spit out every sip you took of it. You probably would have been better able to stomach a shrimp linguini that you were allergic to than you did the espresso.

That day was pure hell. Your classes didn’t begin until the afternoon, so the day began with a dance class. You missed your bus and had the taste of the espresso in your mouth while you suffered through your dance class. The teacher was strict, which you generally didn’t mind, but that day, it felt like he was out to get you. He corrected you at every turn, and you had every mind to quit.

Afterwards, you realised that you had forgotten to do the pre-reading for your class and had to rush it as you sprinted to the building, only managing to absorb at most a quarter of what you were meant to know.

To make things worse, you had gotten lost three times trying to find the classroom and were late and completely lost for the whole class. You eventually gave up trying to comprehend what was happening, instead leaning over to the seat next to you and asking your classmate to send you his notes.

He was a little confused, but he agreed, and that was how (you thought) you made your first friend outside Jaemin’s friend group.

It later turned out that his name was Jeno, and he was the mutual friend that Renjun had told you about. So he knew both Donghyuck and Jaemin, so all your pride in talking to someone new dissipated faster than the taste of espresso in your mouth.

Since you didn’t really have many other friends besides the “dreamies”, which was what Jaemin’s friend group called themselves, you had no one but them to complain about your terrible day.

Donghyuck learnt his lesson for the next time. The third time, Donghyuck bought you jasmine green tea with boba at 25% percent sugar because he “remembered that you didn’t like the sugar rush the first time”. He had circled the sticker on the cup in red pen so you could see the exact order and had written: without milk, because i'm not sure if you’re lactose intolerant.

You were glad that he had finally caught on and realised that you didn’t like coffee much. While you weren’t the biggest fan of tea, you did enjoy boba and that ended up being the most pleasant beverage out of them all. It was partly because he had considered your possible allergies and remembered your dislike of the frappuccino. But more importantly, you liked it because Donghyuck had put so much effort into trying to find something that you would like instead of simply asking you what you liked like a normal person.

However, even that wasn’t the end of it. Donghyuck could tell from your reaction to the drink that it wasn’t something you were expecting and was dead set on finding out your favourite drink order.

It took about five more tries before he finally found out.

It happened when Mark came to pick you up after your dance class, with Jisung (one of the dreamies) in the passenger seat and Donghyuck in the back seat of the car. You had all but collapsed into the seat, limbs tiredly splayed out across the backseat of the car.

To his credit, Donghyuck hadn’t complained about you taking up space, only shifting so that you could comfortably sprawl across two seats while he sat upright in his. When you stretched and knocked his jaw, he laughed good-naturedly and lowered the middle seat so that you could prop your head up and rest comfortably.

When you woke up, the car was parked in front of a convenience store, and Mark told you that Donghyuck and Jisung had gone to get some ramyeon and other items.

Despite Mark’s protests, you zipped up your jacket and climbed out of the car, intent on getting yourself a box of Nesquik packets to get your energy up after the long day.

You intercepted Donghyuck at the glass doors, dragging him with you as you made your purchase and held it in your hand sheepishly as you followed Jisung back to the car, waving your box of Nesquik packets at Mark in explanation as you entered the car.

Mark nodded knowingly, and as he started driving off, he asked, “You’ll make me a cup too, right?”

You nodded, replying in English. “Of course. That’s what friends are for.”

“Oh, so you’ll make it for me because we’re friends, not because you want to thank me for my driving services?”

“That too,” you shrugged. Donghyuck looked between the two of you, completely lost.

“Can I have a translation, please?” As Mark translated it to Donghyuck, you took note of the words you were unsure of, taking out your phone to note it down. You were too busy trying to catch what Mark said to notice the fond look Donghyuck gave you, mentally noting to help you with Korean when he could.

After that day, Donghyuck always made you hot Nesquik in the evenings, and you grew used to coming home to a hot steamy mug of the delicious beverage.

—

Amidst the busy classes, being with Donghyuck felt like the calmness of the deep waters in the middle of a storm. His presence made the mountain of work piling up feel manageable and made all your stress and worries seem trivial. Donghyuck made everything bearable for you.

Throughout the semester, you constantly had to translate different your pre-reading to English and record your lectures to come back to Mark to ask him for help. Mark probably learnt more from your lectures than you did, but it helped enormously.

Mark was always patient, never growing tired of helping you. When he couldn’t translate something either, you always fell back on good old Google Translate or simply asked the professor yourself.

Some of the professors spoke fluent English, which was a huge help, and most were willing to help you as long as you showed initiative in taking charge of your own learning.

One afternoon, you returned to the dorm with a cinnamon roll in hand and your papers in the other, looking for Mark to help you.

Unfortunately, Mark was away, having been called to help tutor another of his friends. The only one at the dormitory was Donghyuck, who was busy tapping away at his laptop. Disappointed, you turned to leave to find your professor instead when Donghyuck turned, seemingly having a sixth sense for your presence.

“‘Sup,” He nodded at the papers in your hand. “Do you need help with those, or…?”

You nodded sheepishly. “Yeah, I was gonna ask Mark for help, but it seems like he’s not here, so I’m going to find one of my professors instead. Or probably one of the other students, I don’t know.”

Donghyuck waved you over to the desk, and you pulled out a chair and sat down. He hummed as he read through the sheaf of papers before handing them back to you.

“I can’t say I’m very good at English, but I’m sure we could figure it out together. Anyway, we both major in Fine Arts, so it can’t be that hard, right?”

—

That was how you and Donghyuck ended up at the shared desk in your room, huddled over papers as you groaned about terminology. You didn’t understand why dance needed such complicated terminology; if dance teachers could “hm ah one-two” their way through their classes, surely you didn’t need your major to get a job in the industry.

However, Donghyuck refused to let you give up, guiding you through the questions one by one. The pre-reading was especially difficult, but when Donghyuck let you read it aloud and helped you with words you didn’t understand, suddenly, it felt a lot easier.

It helped that the professor had plenty of visual resources, and pictures and videos helped to attract your attention. Whenever there was a video of a certain dance technique you needed to know about, you eagerly clicked on it, grateful for the reprieve it offered from the constant onslaught of words on your screen.

Somehow, just like that, the afternoon passed by rather quickly, with both of you efficiently clearing everything that you needed to by the time Mark returned with takeout for all of you.

Donghyuck reached out to help taking the containers out of the plastic bag, hissing sharply and almost dropping the container on the table. “It’s hot!”

“What were you expecting?” You asked incredulously.

He shrugged. “I thought it would have cooled down on the ride here or something.”

Mark stared at him. “My car’s heated.”

The realisation hit Donghyuck like a truck, and you couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of you at his shocked face. “Right, shit. I forgot about that.”

You were doubled over in laughter, and Renjun had to shake your shoulders roughly to get you to stop. When you could finally stand straight again, you looked Donghyuck in the eyes and snorted.

“You’re pretty dumb for someone who knew all the answers to my homework,” you told him.

“Well, you’re pretty annoying for someone who just got my help for his homework,” he retorted.

You couldn’t argue with that. You made a face, to which Donghyuck made a face back, and you harrumphed and sat down to enjoy your takeout.

You noisily slurped your noodles, some of the sauce splashing on your face. Before you could reach up to wipe it away, Donghyuck reached for your chin, pulled you towards him, and gently wiped your face clean with his thumb.

You froze, caught in his gaze. The two of you stared at each other, Donghyuck raising his eyebrows and smirking, before you finally shook your head free of his grasp and moved back, flustered. You were sure that your face was as red as a tomato, but Donghyuck only laughed.

He laughed like it was nothing, and the careless sound of his laughter mixed with the look on his face made you smile too. You couldn’t help it, his happiness was contagious, and sometimes you found that Donghyuck made your life a lot more bearable.

“I'M BORED.”

Donghyuck was sprawled out on the bed, glasses resting precariously on the tip of his nose (he’d forgotten to wear his night lenses the night before). Next to him, Renjun was sitting on the edge of his bed, studiously texting Chenle. Even Mark, the most disciplined of you all, wasn’t doing work.

The room smelled of dirty clothes and… Chinese takeout? You cast a glance over at the coffee table that you ate at, and realised that there were still empty takeout containers on the table. You quickly went to throw them away, scrunching your nose in disgust at the sheer amount of hoodies piled up on bags, the backs of the chairs, and generally strewn about messily.

“Yah, Donghyuck, come and clean up your mess.”

Donghyuck looked over at your annoyed face and quickly got up, obediently putting his clothes away and throwing the dirty ones into the hamper.

“I’m going to bring these to the laundromat, why don’t you call the others over and we’ll have a pizza party? I don’t think any of us is in the mood to do work now.”

Donghyuck nodded eagerly. “Let’s do it. Y/n, what pizza would you like?”

“Jaemin knows. Just get whatever the majority wants and we’ll share.”

“Sounds good,” Mark chimed in. “And, Y/n, can you bring this too?” He handed you a bag full of dirty clothes and you shifted the hamper over to one side so you could handle both, and Renjun helped you with the door as you shuffled out.

—

When you came back, Jaemin informed you that he had ordered pepperoni for you, since Jeno wanted some meat, and Donghyuck had gotten Hawaiian and four-cheese for the others. They had bought the largest size, so hopefully it would be enough for all of you.

When the pizza came, everyone dove in with renewed energy, the lethargic boys coming back to life as they scarfed down the food. Donghyuck reached out to take a slice of your pizza, withdrawing when he realised that there were olives on it.

“What, you don’t like—what’s the word?” You asked.

“Olives?” Mark supplied.

“Yeah, olives?”

“Nah,” Donghyuck replied. “‘M not a fan.” Yet his face betrayed him, and you could see the longing in his eyes as he watched you eat your pizza, looking down sadly at his own.

“Do you want to trade? You can pass me the olives from the pepperoni, and I’ll take your Hawaiian as long as you keep the pineapples.”

“You don’t like pineapples?” Donghyuck asked, scandalised.

“Of course not, who does?” You looked at Jaemin. “Come on, Jaem, back me up on this. Besides, fruit on pizza is such a strange concept.”

“Tomato’s a fruit,” Jisung pointed out, mouth full.

You frowned. “Don’t talk with your mouth open. But okay, fair point, I concede. Fruit on pizza isn’t weird, just pineapple on pizza.”

“Hey!” You threw Donghyuck a triumphant grin, handing him a slice of pizza with the olives plucked off, heaped on your plate. There was oil dripping from your hands and mouth, so you wiped your chin with the back of your hand and got up to wash your hands.

“Don’t touch my pizza,” you warned.

Renjun mock-gasped. “How scary!” When you glared at him, he quickly corrected himself, “Oh, I meant, ‘wouldn’t dream of it!’”, to which you nodded approvingly in response.

—

You returned to your seat only to find Donghyuck had started a new, heated discussion, and everyone was participating actively, except for Jeno, who looked content with stuffing his mouth and just listening.

“I think it’s fine if they separate the leaves, it’s just weird if they do it while giggling and giving each other flirtatious looks,” Chenle was saying.

“But there’s no other reason to do that than to flirt!” Donghyuck cried out.

“What’s going on?” Renjun, bless his soul, explained the perilla debate to you while Donghyuck and Chenle went at each other’s throats. It turned out that the perilla debate was very simple: if your significant other helped to separate the pesky perilla leaves for your close friend to eat, was that acceptable?

You cocked your head in confusion. That was a topic up for debate? It was simple enough to leave people alone to eat, especially if they were both people you knew and trusted. If you could bring them out to eat together, what was the reason for you to prevent interaction between them? If you were that sensitive, you might as well not have invited them to eat at the same meal.

You voiced out your thoughts, but Donghyuck wasn’t having it. “It’s just dumb. Why was your significant other paying attention to the friend? They should be paying attention to you!”

You gave him a hard look. “Seriously? It’s not like you can forbid interaction between two people you love. You just think it’s weird because you’re an outrageous flirt, and in those circumstances, you would definitely be doing it with an ulterior motive.”

Chenle and Mark nodded in unison. “Face it, Hyuck, your opinion is just wrong.”

Donghyuck pouted and turned his back to you all, furiously opening up the food app on his phone and tapping away.

Jeno leaned over his shoulder to take a peek and began laughing uncontrollably, almost choking on the food in his mouth. “He’s ordering a dish with perilla leaves on it to prove his point!”

The entire room burst out into laughter, and you were so loud you heard a knocking on the door as someone told you to “shut the hell up, it’s already 10pm and some people want peace and silence.”

Subdued, the laughter died out, but wide grins remained on your faces as you watched Donghyuck in amusement, intent on proving his point and unwilling to give up until he had showed you all.

The food arrived faster than you had expected, and Donghyuck ran to the door to receive it, laying out the bowl and showing everyone the perilla leaves.

He handed Jaemin a pair of chopsticks and pointed to the dish. “Okay, Jaemin, you’re going to pretend that you can’t pick up the perilla leaves, and then I’ll swoop in and save the day.”

Jaemin immediately shook his head, vigorously expressing his disagreement. “I’m not getting dragged into this stupid shit. Jisung, take the chopsticks.”

Jisung crossed his hands over his chest, waving away the chopsticks. “Why don’t you pass it to Y/n? He’s the one who started this whole thing, after all.”

You were shoved into the seat opposite Donghyuck, a defeated sigh leaving your lips as you took the chopsticks and tried to pick up the perilla leaves with your chopsticks. You didn’t even have to fake a failed attempt to pick it up; your chopstick skills had never been good, so no matter how you tried, you couldn’t pick it up.

Seeing your genuine struggle, Donghyuck took the chance to expertly pick up the leaves and separated one piece from the rest (show-off). “Ahh,” he said, and you opened your mouth instinctively.

“Is it good?” He asked sweetly, and you nodded dumbly. It was actually pretty good, but you didn’t know why. You had never liked perilla leaves much, but maybe the way Donghyuck was looking at you or the pressurising gaze on your back made it taste a lot better than you used to think it did.

“That’s good, Y/n-ah.” He reached over to brush your hair out of your face, but it just flopped back down in front of your eyes again. He giggled, and that was your breaking point, and you broke out of character, laughing into your palm as Donghyuck shrugged as if to say, See? “I told you, it’s an intimate gesture!”

You shook your head exasperatedly. “If you say so, Lee Donghyuck.”

You went back to eating, peeling off the ham and cheese from your pizza to save for later. It was your favourite part of the pizza, so you didn’t want to waste it.

“Y/n…” Chenle’s warning tone made you look up in fear.

“Yes?”

“What in the world are you doing?”

“I just like ham and cheese,” you replied defensively. “Is there something wrong with that?”

Chenle shook his head exasperatedly. “No, just- that’s the weirdest way of eating pizza I’ve ever seen.”

“Well,” you said, licking your fingers clean, “Jaemin used to separate the gummies into flavours and pass me all the strawberry ones when he was little because he hates strawberries, so you should give me a pass for this one.”

While Jaemin tried to defend himself against your sudden jab at him, Jeno set up his computer on the table and waved everyone who was done eating over onto the bed, using his mini projector (he was a film major) to project his screen on the wall.

“What do y’all want to watch?”

“All of us are dead,” Renjun said without hesitation. You and Jisung looked at each other nervously, not being lovers of horror movies and especially hesitant because of the zombies in the series. However, you were outnumbered 6 to 2, so you settled in under the blanket and drew it up to your eyes, prepared to scream if anything scary happened.

Jisung didn’t join you, probably to hang onto whatever shreds of fragile masculinity he still had. You had thrown away all of yours because it wasn’t like you could control your fear anyway. You preferred to scream in comfort, thank you very much.

The episode started out surprisingly tame, so you lowered the blanket and leaned forward to get a better look.

Donghyuck let out a little “oof” when you rested your chin on his shoulder, but only scooted backwards so you could have a better view.

You were just starting to get absorbed in the story, thinking that maybe it wasn’t so bad after all, when one of the girls was turned into a zombie.

“Fuck!” You screamed, leaping back as the girl’s neck cracked at an unnatural angle, blood dripping from her nostrils and mouth. You cowered under the blanket that you had hurriedly pulled over your head, shuddering in fear with your hands clasped tightly over your ears.

You were still trembling when you finally decided to peek out from under the blanket, meeting Mark’s and Donghyuck’s concerned eyes with a reassuring smile.

“I'm all right, y’all. Just surprised.”

Mark snorted. As if. But he didn’t challenge you, instead asking, “Why the hell do you know fuck in Korean and not ‘delivery service’? One of them is clearly more commonly used than the other.”

“Yeah, and that’s fuck. I think you forgot that we’re all still teenage guys and male youths. Swearing is part of our vocabulary.”

“Fair enough,” Mark conceded.

Donghyuck, on the other hand, came closer to you, back pressed to the wall as he rubbed your back comfortingly. “Do you want to watch something else?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s alright. It’s actually interesting, I just get grossed out.”

Donghyuck nodded in understanding. “I'll sit beside you, and when the scary scenes show up, I'll cover your ears so you can pull the blanket over yourself. Sounds good?”

You nodded.

The episode continued, and you successfully made it three entire episodes before you got another jumpscare, and Donghyuck did as he had promised, wrapping your head tightly in a hug so you couldn't hear a single thing.

He squealed, “cute!” when you were scared and hugged you tightly. He covered your view so well you didn’t even need the blanket to hide the scene from yourself.

Donghyuck ended up hugging you for the rest of the night, and you leaned your head on his shoulder and squeezed his hands extra tightly whenever something happened, shutting your eyes when you heard any crunching sound.

Just like that, you made it through one season of “All of Us are Dead”, falling asleep past midnight with your only friends in university in your room, with someone by your side embracing you as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

—

While you were asleep, the others cleaned up the mess that they had made, throwing out the empty pizza boxes and takeout utensils, wiping the table clean and moving all clothes to one side.

The dreamies from the other room left after bidding Mark, Renjun and Donghyuck goodnight, while the remaining three in your room took turns showering in the toilet.

When Donghyuck, the last of the three, came out of the toilet towelling his hair dry, he realised that you were lying across two beds, blanket kicked off your feet.

He hung his towel up and went over to you, sighing as he placed his hands under you and tried to lift you up.

However, he forgot that you were both taller and bulkier than him, and staggered back when he tried to carry you. He rested his hands on his hips, staring down at you as the gears whirred in his mind, trying to figure out a way to move you.

Mark’s eyes flitted open, and he had a clear view of you and Donghyuck from his bed. He saw Donghyuck struggling but chose not to say a thing, waiting patiently for Donghyuck to make another move.

With a soft groan, Donghyuck hefted you into his arms and staggered around the bed before dropping you back down, in the correct position that time, on the right bed.

Luckily, you were fast asleep, so you didn’t wake up. Mark reached over to Renjun’s bed and nudged him awake, whispering, “Bet you 10,000 won that when they end up together, Donghyuck will kiss Y/n first.”

Confusion flashed over Renjun’s face before he understood. He hadn’t realised that Donghyuck was clearly interested in you, hadn’t even known that he was interested in males until Mark pointed it out. But once it had been brought to his attention, it seemed as if it had been clear all along.

“He’ll never confess aloud, I bet Y/n will have to make the first move,” Renjun countered.

“We’ll see,” Mark said. Renjun agreed, and soon the room fell silent as all four occupants drifted off into dreamland.

THE NEXT DAY WAS A SATURDAY, so everyone woke up late. By the time you opened your eyes, it was 9am, and you were the second one up. The bed beside you was Donghyuck’s, and it was empty.

Donghyuck didn’t seem like a morning person to you, so you were surprised that he had left the dormitory room so early in the morning. You blinked tiredly, hauling yourself out of bed to get breakfast. The sound of you rummaging through the mini-fridge for food must have been quite loud, because Mark woke up and stared blankly at you, eyelids drooping sleepily.

“What’re you doing?” He mumbled.

“Looking for ingredients to make breakfast with. We only have ramyeon, but I’m pretty sick of that.”

“Hyuck works at his mom’s bakery on weekends, there’s probably food there. If you’re hungry, just head over and get food from him. He’ll know what we like, and you can buy whatever you want.” With that, Mark fell back asleep before you could ask him to tell you the address.

Just then, a yellow-coloured post-it on the table caught your eye and you went over to take a look. It said in neat handwriting, “y/n, i’ve left for work. if you want to come over to café 127, you can study there and we can take the bus back to the dorms afterwards. it’s pretty close by,” and the address, signed with “yours, hyuck.”

“Huh,” you said, tucking the note into your pocket after looking up what bus to take to get there. It was only a couple of stops away, awfully convenient, and you weren’t going to give up the chance to study.

You changed into presentable clothes, grabbing a coat and your wallet before heading out of the door.

—

The café was bigger than you had expected. It was really close to the university, and located on the streets, so you couldn't possibly miss it. You loitered outside the café for a bit, debating whether to go in.

A flash of movement caught your eye, and you saw Donghyuck flitting about, taking customers’ orders.

Inhaling deeply, you squashed your nerves and calmed yourself down, going inside.

The café smelt like… Donghyuck, oddly enough. It smelt like vanilla essence and chocolate chips, and the same scent of perfume that Donghyuck probably used. You must have unconsciously associated the scent of Donghyuck with home, because entering the café felt like coming home to warmth after a long, cold day.

You grinned at Donghyuck and waved at him, taking a seat by the window. You placed your bag on the seat and went to buy yourself something, queueing in line behind two other people.

When it was your turn, your gaze flickered downwards, darting over the black, dapper uniform Donghyuck was wearing. The simple apron that bore a golden-brown logo on the right side wouldn’t have looked half as good on anyone else, not that you would admit it.

“Morning, Hyuck. I’d like…” your voice trailed off as you realised you didn’t even know what they sold. You peered into the display case, seeing fudge brownies and cinnamon rolls for sale.

Donghyuck’s mother bustled past, giving Donghyuck a few orders when she caught sight of you, stopping short in her tracks with a delighted gasp.

“You’re such a handsome man,” she told you. “You look like a prince!”

“Mum,” Donghyuck whined. “He’s my friend, you’re embarrassing me.”

Donghyuck’s mother laughed, and her mannerisms were exactly like Donghyuck’s. Her face crinkled up and her eyes disappeared into a line, and even the sound of her laughter was exactly like her son’s. Mama’s boy, you thought to yourself.

“Silly boy, of course you’re handsome too. After all, you are my son.” At that, even you broke into laughter. That must have been where Donghyuck got his confidence from. Donghyuck rolled his eyes and asked you to get on with your order.

“I’d like a cinnamon roll, please,” you decided, and paid for it.

“You just like cinnamon rolls because you're basic,” Donghyuck teased, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“And what about it?”

Donghyuck raised both his eyebrows at your defensive tone, but he didn’t take the bait, instead handing you your change and order. “Have a nice day, prince.”

You shot him a confused look, then realised he was teasing you for what his mother had said about you. “You too, pretty boy.”

It was good that you had turned around so you couldn’t see how furiously Donghyuck blushed when you said that.

—

You wouldn't have realised that it was past noon if Donghyuck hadn’t tapped your shoulder, wrenching you out of your focused state and drawing you back into reality.

In his hands, he was clutching a muffin, which he placed in front of you along with a mug full of steaming Nesquik. “Eat first, don't be so concerned about your work,” he chided, and you rolled your eyes but thanked him anyway.

When you gratefully bit into the muffin, you felt melted cheese oozing out of it, and you pulled it away from your mouth, staring at it in amazement. You took your time, savouring every bite of the muffin. It was still warm from the oven and tasted heavenly.

You spotted a few pieces of ham inside the muffin, and realised that it was a ham-and-cheese muffin! You hadn’t seen that in the display case earlier, so perhaps Donghyuck had baked it himself.

You made a mental note to ask him about it later, returning to your work with a full stomach and heart.

—

As you got up to leave, collecting your mug and the plate to return to Donghyuck for them to wash, you realised that there was a little sticky note on the other side of the mug.

It read, "for my prince. study hard <3", and you couldn’t help the blush creeping across your cheeks. You felt your face heat up as the corners of your lips lifted up into a smile. He’s so stupidly pretty.

—

Donghyuck came home smelling like pancake batter and cinnamon rolls, which was enough to confirm that you were down horrendous for him.

When he slipped into bed, his voice was slightly husky from talking the whole day as he took down orders. “Good night, Y/n.”

Instead of answering, you rolled over to face him, asking, “Do you think I'm handsome?”

Donghyuck hesitated for only a second, but it was enough to make you nervous. Why didn’t he want to respond? Was it because he didn’t like you, or something else? Your mind conjured up endless unreasonable questions, almost going crazy with the silence that was thick with tension.

“I think you're attractive, definitely. Why, are you feeling insecure?” He asked. “I hope you know that when I saw you at the airport, my first thought was ‘Shit, my position as the visual in the group is being compromised.’ I don't think you have anything to worry about.”

You were still dissatisfied, so Donghyuck approached you as if to inspect your face, and pointed at his eyes. “I'm wearing my night lenses now, so I have 20/20 vision, and as a self-proclaimed expert, I declare you a ten out of ten. Happy?”

You laughed softly. “Yes, Hyuck. Thank you.”

Donghyuck permitted himself a small smile, reaching out to ruffle your hair. “Silly prince. Now can you go to sleep?”

You nodded. “Night, pretty boy.”

The answer came almost immediately. “Goodnight, my prince.”

IT ALL WENT DOWNHILL FROM THERE.

Ever since the realisation that maybe, just maybe, you liked Donghyuck (just a little bit), everything had gone downhill. You couldn’t do a single thing without Donghyuck at the back of your mind. If you so much as walked beside him, your mind went crazy with thoughts of him brushing his arm against yours intentionally, how close you could walk next to him without being too obvious about it, how beautiful he was when he laughed or made a joke that no one laughed at.

Your mind just couldn’t shut up. Yes, you understood that you had a silly little crush. Yes, you knew that Donghyuck was gorgeous. Yes, you were one of his best friends and therefore, saw him relatively often. No, that did not mean you needed him to occupy every. Single. One of your thoughts. You were perfectly fine without the presence of Donghyuck in every crevice of your mind, thank you very much.

However, your subconscious disagreed, and continued to torture you with thoughts of Donghyuck kissing you or brushing your hair out of your face. It was too much for you to take, especially when Donghyuck seemed oblivious to the effect he had on you.

At present, his face was slightly flushed, and sweat was beading on his forehead. He was clearly tipsy, swaying on his feet as he leaned on Renjun’s shoulder. He took Renjun’s chin and turned it towards himself, as if to kiss him.

Renjun tore himself away from Donghyuck so quickly that Donghyuck should have gotten whiplash, disgust evident on his face. “Argh, don’t kiss me!”

You felt the green monster slowly loosen its grip on your throat, slinking back in shame as you breathed in heavily. What was wrong with you? There was no reason for you to be jealous. Donghyuck was just like that, he flirted with anything that had a pulse and couldn’t confront his feelings. You knew it, and yet you didn’t want to accept it.

Stinging from his rejection and very much drunk after all the alcohol he had drunk, Donghyuck was even whinier than usual, if that was possible.

He leaned on Mark’s shoulder, and soon it became a game of “Pass the Donghyuck”, and he was shifted from one shoulder to another until he had made one round from Mark’s shoulder all the way to yours.

The weight of his head on your shoulder was refreshing. It felt like you could finally think, and the fog of your crush had lifted just enough for you to realise that the Lee Donghyuck was drunk and clinging onto your shoulder.

His glasses were slipping down his nose, and you wondered why he had even worn it in the first place. You reached up to take it off, but he shook his head vigorously. “Can’t… see without ‘em. Everything’s so… blurry.” He heaved and you stepped back quickly, afraid that he would puke all over you, but he only stumbled into your arms.

You caught him, breathing out a sigh of relief. The club was terrifyingly loud and you wanted to go home.

Empty bottles littered the counter, shot glasses teetering dangerously close to the edge. You pushed the glasses in and one toppled, and you clumsily reached out to catch it before it fell, but missed. Luckily, Mark was still sober and his reflexes were fast enough for him to catch it when it rolled off the table, falling straight into his hand like that had been its trajectory all along.

Your limbs felt as heavy as lead, a feeling not unfamiliar to you. It always felt like that after a long, tiring day of dance lessons. But the feeling was somehow… different. It felt like you had lost control of yourself and it scared you. You didn’t want to lose consciousness.

“Mark,” you called, too soft for him to hear. You were tired and it took almost all of your energy to call him again, louder that time. “Mark!”

Mark turned and his smile dropped when he saw Donghyuck and you, so drunk you might’ve passed out if it weren’t for the adrenaline rushing through your veins. You felt like you were in a limbo, halfway between wide awake and unconscious, too drunk to comprehend anything but also too excited to go to sleep.

“I want to leave this place. And I think- I think Hyuck should go home too.”

Mark looked around anxiously for the others. Jaemin was sitting in a corner of the room, clearly feeling out of place. The club was too loud for both of you. At least Chenle, Jisung, Renjun and Jeno looked like they were having fun dancing, but you remembered Renjun had looked more at home when Donghyuck was leading the conversation.

Everyone wanted to go home. You were a lightweight, and Donghyuck had simply let loose and gone crazy on the vodka, but it was enough. You needed to leave, and you recognised that. It was past 3am on a Sunday night, and you all had to go home before your classes the next morning.

Mark went to collect the rest of the dreamies, and when Chenle tried to make a fuss, Mark whispered something in his ear that pleased him greatly. Without further protest, soon all the dreamies were gathered where you were and you could leave.

You all had trouble getting out of the bar, let alone getting into the car. You, Jisung and Donghyuck were stumbling like drunkards, relying on the support of your friends to get you to walk. Jaemin held on to you tightly, gripping your elbow so hard you thought it might leave marks.

His lips were pressed into a thin line, annoyed that you had drunk so much even though your alcohol tolerance was low. It was like you were children again, and you were playing video games late into the night even though you had school the day after.

Yet, even after all those years of you making stupid decisions, he was still there for you when you came crashing down. Maybe you really were his favourite cousin, after all.

The designated drivers, Jaemin and Mark, brought three passengers into each car. You and Donghyuck were meant to be split up so there were more eyes to look after each of you, but Donghyuck grabbed hold of your wrist and refused to let go.

Jaemin let out a sigh. “Jeno, you go with them.” He was the third least intoxicated and among the strongest in your group, so he had a higher chance of being able to handle the two of you.

Jeno guided you into the seat, where you collapsed, finally making yourself comfortable. You removed your coat and draped it on the head rest, while Donghyuck snuggled into your lap.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

Donghyuck nodded. “Has anyone told you you’re really pretty?”

You laughed. “Yeah, your mum.” Donghyuck cringed, and you quickly clarified. “Donghyuck, your mother literally told me I look like a prince. I’m sorry, but you can’t top that, though I’ll give you extra points because you look cute when you’re drunk.”

Donghyuck let out a little giggle and snuggled into you. You’d forgotten how clingy he got when he was drunk. “Life is so tiring,” he told you matter-of-factly.

“I agree.” Your eyes shut and you leaned your head back, the muscles in your back relaxing.

“Shh,” Donghyuck stopped you, pressing one finger to your cheek. You assumed that he had meant to silence you and placed it against your lips, but he was so drunk that his hand-eye coordination wasn’t the best. “Don’t interrupt.”

You snorted, amused.

“As I was saying, life is really tiring. It’s tiring being this handsome, it’s tiring having a crush on my roommate and not being able to confess it because I’m a coward, it’s tiring having to work instead of staying home, and it’s tiring pretending that I’m perfect.”

“What was the middle one?”

“It’s tiring having to work?”

You raised your eyebrows sceptically. That wasn’t what you had meant, and he knew it. Sure, you were drunk and could have imagined it, but you were pretty sure Donghyuck had just confessed that he liked one of you. And since he only had three roommates, you had a 33.3% chance of being the one he liked.

The odds were good, but not entirely in your favour.

Donghyuck’s forehead was sweaty and his hair was sticking to his face, so you gently brushed it out of his face, and he gripped your wrist so tightly you questioned if he was indeed drunk. If he were sober surely he wouldn’t have had that strength, but he definitely had the guts when he was tipsy.

He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, and your heart shattered inside.

Honestly, you would have been happy if he was sober. Perhaps then everything would be truthful and genuine and not the manifestation of sober thoughts, but a conscious choice. Because drunk decisions did not mean that Donghyuck would have done the same if he had been sober. You knew that he probably would not have, and that hurt deeper than you would care to admit.

Donghyuck was so oblivious to the effect he had on you. He could be making you go crazy inwardly and not care, but the moment he was drunk, he had the audacity to flirt with you. He had no care for your feelings at all, and you hated it.

If only he would really, truly love you, consciously and deliberately so you would never have to reassure your insecure thoughts. And that was something that you hated Donghyuck for, that he never wanted to commit and instead flirted with everyone like that would make him feel any better.

It wouldn’t, and you knew that all too well.

—

“Spin the bottle! Spin the bottle!”

You, as well as the others, were eagerly chanting as Donghyuck looked sceptically at the bottle. The table surface was rough, and the sound of the bottle spinning grated on his nerves, but he wanted to be a good sport.

He spun the bottle, biting his lip as he rolled his eyes back, and they landed on you. You could have sworn he winked, but you had no time to process it, not when your friends were cheering so loudly.

Shit. It had landed on you.

Donghyuck didn’t hesitate, leaning in towards you and tipping your chin up. He saw the reluctance in your eyes and stopped, resting on his heels.

“Are you okay with this? If you don't want to, we can stop it now,” he said, loud enough for your ears alone.

You gulped. “I'm… I think I'm fine.”

He grinned. “Then kiss me back, okay?”

And his lips were on yours. He tasted like cherry vodka and sprite and cinnamon all at once, and you didn’t know you had it in you to kiss him back.

When he pulled away, you missed it almost immediately.

“This isn’t any fun. Let’s play truth or dare instead,” he said abruptly, averting his eyes. Unlike when he had kissed Renjun, he didn't wipe his lips, and it took all of your self-control not to read into that.

You made yourself comfortable and reached for another glass but Jisung tapped your hand twice. “I think you’ve had quite enough.”

The thing was, you couldn't help it. If you didn’t have enough alcohol in your system, you would have the sobriety to overthink every single little thing Donghyuck did, and you needed a drink (or several) to remain sane.

Jisung gave you a long, hard look and an accompanying sigh when you brushed him off, but he remained silent when you poured yourself another glass and downed it, the clear liquid burning its way down your throat and lighting you up from within.

“Truth,” you heard Donghyuck say.

“Do you love him? Not just infatuation-wise. Do you see yourself in a relationship with him?” Mark.

“Dare.”

“Answer the question.”

“I-” The hesitation was enough for you to be interested in the conversation again. If Donghyuck had given his usual lighthearted response, you would have thought nothing of it. But for him to stop and actually seriously think about it… whoever he liked must have really made an impact on him.

You reached for the bottle again. This time, it was Jeno who stopped you. “It’s quite enough. Your cheeks are red, and you can barely keep your eyes open. I don't want you to get liver failure from one night out, or we’ll never be allowed to bring you out again.”

You pouted your lips at him, and Donghyuck spoke again. “Yes, I think I do.”

It was a pity that you had forgotten the question by then. It was also a pity that your eyes were barely open, for if they were open you would have seen Donghyuck’s fond look and how his eyes crinkled up when he looked at you.

—

When Mark turned around to get you out of the car, he found both you and Donghyuck asleep.

YOU JUST COULDN'T ESCAPE HIM. It wasn’t until you were consciously avoiding Donghyuck that you realised how often you saw him. Your dance classes never collided, but many of your lectures did. Sometimes, you would see him entering the lecture theatre and would studiously look away so he wouldn’t notice you were there. Not that it worked much, but on some days, he was a little more aware and would walk past you to sit with his other friends.

You were in the library that afternoon, headphones in, Mark and Renjun sitting opposite you. Everyone was quietly doing their own work, and whenever you looked up from your work, it was only to ask Mark a question.

Renjun was actually done with his own work, because unlike Mark, who always volunteered to take on extra tasks, he had a perfectly reasonable workload. And unlike Donghyuck, who signed up for social events even when his pre-reading was piling up, he was disciplined and knew how to prioritise. And unlike you, he actually understood everything that the professor was saying.

So, really he was only there to keep you two accountable and to make sure you didn’t get off track. He was reading a book, and you guessed that the unfamiliar characters on the cover were in Mandarin.

It was peaceful, at least until Donghyuck came.

“I brought you a ham-and-cheese muffin,” he said, setting the paper bag down as he slid into the seat beside you. “I got you boba too, but the librarian didn’t like that, so I left it in my bag outside. I had to convince her that I wouldn’t eat the muffin inside, but I’ll let you know that it’s still warm, so you can make your own decision.”

He winked at you, and your heart fluttered. Be still, my heart.

You bit into the muffin, and the flavours exploded in your mouth as you realised how long it had been since your last meal. You hadn’t had proper lunch that day, just brunch at 10, so 6 hours had passed since you last ate. You had forgotten this whilst studying, but your stomach gladly welcomed the presence of more food.

“You haven’t eaten since brunch, have you?” Donghyuck asked, as he saw you stuffing the rest of the muffin into your mouth. You shook your head guiltily, trying to catch the crumbs falling from your mouth.

“Chew slowly, don't choke. I’ve still got boba for you later, remember.”

And your heart warmed despite your vow not to let Donghyuck charm his way into your heart anymore. “Thanks,” you mumbled, voice muffled by the food in your mouth. You swallowed it quickly, but by then he had already turned away from you.

—

“Wait, don't you have a class in five minutes?”

It took you a couple of seconds to process that Mark was talking to you. You looked down at your watch and found that he was indeed correct. “Shit, yeah. Hyuck, isn’t that the class we both take?”

Donghyuck’s neck jerked up so quickly you feared he might break it. “You're right! We’ve gotta run for it. See you later, Mark, Renjun.”

He was out of his chair before you could say anything else, pulling you away as you ran outside. Donghyuck slung his bag over his shoulder, and you ran out into the cold with Donghyuck by your side. It was freezing cold and your lips turned numb almost immediately. The snow was heavier than you had realised, and you sorely missed the comfort of the heated library.

You were huddled closely to Donghyuck, pressed up against him as your legs moved in tandem, generating heat that you were grateful for.

“Wait,” you said, grabbing Donghyuck’s hand to stop him just before you entered the building. “Look!”

Like a child, you stuck out your tongue and waited for a snowflake to fall onto your tongue, shivering slightly when it did and melted almost immediately. You looked at Donghyuck, embarrassment warring with the need for attention, and were met with Donghyuck’s chuckle.

“Cute.”

It was one word, but it felt full of fraught emotions and possibilities.

—

You sighed in relief, collapsing in a tired heap on the chair, your cheeks and the tips of your ears still red from the cold atmosphere outside. Donghyuck noticed, of course. He reached out and cupped your ear in his hands, his palms radiating heat that made your ears feel less like frozen popsicles and more like a part of your body again.

“If I kissed you, your cheeks would definitely warm up too,” he said suddenly. You would have protested, but you weren’t fast enough to prevent him from placing a kiss on your cheek, which immediately warmed up in embarrassment.

“See! It worked.” You didn’t admit it aloud, but you agreed.

Donghyuck’s kiss was a reminder of what you had been thinking when you first arrived in Seoul. You had thought then that Seoul was nowhere as romantic as London, because you couldn't share an umbrella with your love interest in the rain and get soaked together.

But when you looked down at your coat, slightly wet with melted snow, and pressed a hand to your cheek where Donghyuck had kissed it, you realised that maybe Seoul was more romantic than you had given it credit for being. You had been too quick to judge and were lucky that you hadn’t said it aloud, or you would be eating your words.

—

You were starting to get bored and your fingers hurt from typing. At least you understood most of what was happening, but you were still starting to tire of the professor’s voice. The next time you would be doing anything interesting was in a month, and you didn’t understand how you were expected to pay attention until then.

You were really only paying attention so that you didn’t fail when you had to write your thesis next week, but even you needed a break.

Donghyuck must have read your mind because he pushed a reusable covered cup over to your table, pointing at the attached note. Through the clear container you could see the boba at the bottom, brown sugar coating the sides. You poked the straw through the hole in the cap and gratefully drank it, happy for the explosive taste of sugar in your mouth that distracted you from the boredom of the class.

A note fluttered onto your table and you picked it up in curiosity. “are you a prince (왕자; wangja)? because i want ya.”

That was when your heart stopped. Donghyuck didn’t speak English well, and you knew that. You had spent enough time with him to see how he struggled to understand you when you spoke with an English accent instead of a Korean one. Yet, he had written you a pickup line in Konglish.

What does that mean? He had to have asked Mark about it. He must have premeditated it because there was no way he had spontaneously come up with that while waiting in line for your drink.

What does that mean? The mixed signals he was sending you were about to drive you crazy. You were overthinking every detail of it, and you hated it. Why had he put in the effort to write something you were familiar with? A line you would understand and be able to laugh at? Was he hinting at something more, or did he just do that to everyone?

What does that mean? The question was running laps in your mind, as it had been since Donghyuck had kissed you at the bar. You had both been flat-out drunk, so you wouldn’t have been surprised, but he didn’t seem to want to talk about it.

Maybe that was the problem; the lack of communication. It was hindering the relationship from progressing and causing your heart extreme emotional pain. Perhaps it was time for you to do something about it.

DONGHYUCK WAS THE WORST TEASE YOU KNEW. He exited the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, hair still dripping wet as he ran a hand absently through it, wiping his hand on the towel.

Your heart was beating so fast that you were sure you would need someone to call an ambulance if you didn’t stop hyperventilating.

Fortunately (or unfortunately) for you, Donghyuck seemed to notice.

He walked up to you in one fluid motion, wrapping one arm around your waist as his other hand tipped your chin up. His cockiness was getting to you, and you simply couldn’t stand him anymore. You threaded your fingers through his hair, bringing his face closer to you as you kissed him.

The hand around your waist slackened in shock, and his eyes were still wide with surprise at your boldness. But you didn’t care, and when you didn’t pull away, he gladly closed his eyes and deepened the kiss.

Your clothes were wet, and so was the floor, but you couldn’t care less because you were kissing the Lee Donghyuck, prettiest boy in the universe. The one who spent a week trying to get your beverage order right and clung tightly to you when he was drunk, the one who took every opportunity to flirt with you but softened when you were scared or tired.

He called you a prince just to rile you up and pecked your cheek when you were within range, and you loved him more than just a little bit.

“You like me?” Donghyuck asked in disbelief when you pulled away.

You traced your hand over his jaw and pressed your forehead to his. “I hate pineapple on pizza, but I’d eat Hawaiian pizza if you asked me to because you’re Donghyuck, and I’d do anything for you. I would eat your olives if you gave them to me, always. I don’t know how you haven’t noticed yet, but yes, I like you, Lee Donghyuck.”

He was rendered speechless, which were two words you would never have thought would be used to describe Donghyuck. The chatty boy had fallen silent, and you found that you missed the sound of his voice.

“I like you too, L/n Y/n. I would run with you in the snow if it meant five more minutes with you. Even if my fingertips were freezing off, I would watch you catch snowflakes on your tongue and wish you loved me back. I would kiss you while drunk a million times if it meant there was the smallest of chances that you would love me back.”

The sound of the door opening didn’t stop you, but it did stop Renjun. He hovered in the corridor as he looked between you and a towel-clad Donghyuck, debating whether to tell him to stop dripping all over the floor or leave you two alone. After a few seconds, he decided to take refuge in Jaemin’s room, leaving you two to your own devices.

Donghyuck would have stayed and held you in his arms forever if you hadn’t tapped his shoulder and asked him to get changed.

“Why feign decency at this point?” He had quipped, and you had grabbed hold of his shoulders, turning him around to face the bathroom and shoving him towards it. He had stumbled, catching himself just in time to flip you off, and you settled on the floor, laughing as he disappeared into the bathroom.

—

When he reappeared, he was so eager to see you again that he slammed into you, causing you to topple onto the bed, Donghyuck’s hands on either side of your head being the only thing preventing him from falling onto you,

You booped him on the nose and burst out into laughter at his confused face. Your laughter rang true and clear in the room, and if Donghyuck had a photographic memory, he would have replayed it in his head a million times. His eyes were filled with delight and love as he watched you slowly lowering himself next to you while you rolled over to face him.

His hand traced lazy circles down your arms, from your biceps down to your elbows, where he began drawing hearts around the scattered scars that covered your elbows.

“Tell me all about your scars.”

You had gotten that one from falling down as a kid, eager legs slipping out from under you when you forgot that you had rollerblades on, landing on your elbows and knees. Sure, you had worn elbow guards, but they had been too loose for you back then, the hand-me-downs slipping downwards as your elbows scraped against the pavement.

You remembered staring at your arms in wonder, the scraped skin stinging but not hurting enough for you to cry. You had winced at the dirt and blood covering the wound, dusting yourself off as you stood up. You had cried when your mother cleaned the wound with saline, wincing sharply and then jerking your arms away while she held tight, cleansing the wound, until you realised she was only trying to help you.

Perhaps that was what love was like. Sometimes, you didn’t realise it was for your benefit until someone else guided you to it, and you ignored what was staring right at you until it waved its hand.

Donghyuck listened. He didn’t speak, and the silence was oddly inviting. The words spilled out of your mouth like a torrent, not a second of hesitation keeping you from being vulnerable with him.

It was the same for Donghyuck.

You heard of the times he felt overshadowed and overlooked, when his older brother knew how to do everything and his younger sister followed in his footsteps. He constantly compared himself to them and others around him, never feeling like he was enough.

You heard of the times with Mark, his first friend, who used to hate him. Donghyuck had reached out multiple times to Mark, and each time he was met with coldness and annoyance. He had only ever heard Mark give monosyllabic responses and had been surprised when he had first heard Mark say a full sentence.

Yet, Donghyuck could grow on anyone. And soon, they graduated high school together, headed to the same university where they would pursue their interests while their friendship only grew stronger.

You heard about Donghyuck’s experience at parties, waking up in somebody else’s bed, hammered with a pounding headache and utterly lost. He told you how he had sorely regretted all the drinks, hurriedly getting out of bed to get as far away from the memories as possible.

Once, he was almost taken advantage of. He had woken up in a bed with a girl by his side, ill-clad with her gangly limbs all over his body. He should have at least known her name, but he didn’t even recognise her face. When he tried to peel her off of him and get dressed, she forced herself on him, and it had taken all of his drunken strength to get away.

He didn’t need to be drunk to tell you stories, because he could consciously decide to be open with you, even while sober. You didn’t either, but you were glad that you no longer needed alcohol to stop you from falling head over heels for Lee Donghyuck.

After all, he was there to stay.

RENJUN'S HUSHED WHISPERS SOUNDED URGENT even to you, causing you to open your eyes even when you wanted to seal them shut and fall back asleep.

“Good morning,” you cooed, placing kisses on each of Donghyuck’s moles. He blinked his eyes open sleepily and stared at you through half-closed eyelids before shutting them again and snuggling in closer to you.

“It’s too fucking early to be awake, go back to sleep.” Donghyuck said as he slid his cold fingers under your shirt, wrapping them around your torso as he hummed to himself. “You’re so warm…”

You shivered at his touch, jerking back in shock. Donghyuck whined softly and continued nuzzling his head against you, and you relented, moving in closer towards him while he smiled against your neck.

You caught snippets of Renjun’s conversation with Mark, hearing words like “half-naked”, “still dripping”, and “couldn’t even come in to sleep”. It didn’t take a genius to guess that they were talking about you, and the unabashed excitement on Mark’s face confirmed it for you.

You pried Donghyuck’s fingers from your skin, pushing his head away while he murmured in protest, flinging the covers off of you.

“Argh!”

“Sorry, Hyuckie.” You quickly grabbed the blanket and tucked Donghyuck back in, and he frowned at the absence of your heat, turning away from you sulkily and curling up into a ball. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, brushing his hair out of his face, gravitating towards Renjun’s conversation as it got clearer and easier to understand.

“Are you talking about me?” You asked, and Renjun almost leapt from his chair in shock. His mouth was comically open, and his eyes were wide in surprise.

“When did you wake up?”

“Just,” you assured him, taking your seat and resting your head in your hands. “So, what about me?”

“We made a bet,” Mark said, a little too quick to throw Renjun under the bus. “We wanted to guess who would make the first move. I said Donghyuck would because of his personality, but Renjun said he was too much of a coward to really do anything about it.”

“Technically, you’re both right. Hyuck did make the first move, but I kissed him first, so I think I deserve some of that credit too.”

Renjun’s head bobbed up and down so quickly you were afraid his neck might break off. “Y/n’s right. Since he kissed Donghyuck first, you owe me. 10,000 won, remember?”

Mark’s mouth opened and closed as he stared at you, flabbergasted, before he finally gave up on trying to form words and reached into his pocket instead.

As Renjun counted the money, Mark fixed you with a hard stare. “If I’m broke, you’re paying for the next meal.”

“Deal."

—

Donghyuck left the house wrapped up in thoughts of your mouth on his. He couldn’t believe that someone like you would like someone like him. It had, quite literally, never occurred to him that you might like him back.

From the first time he had set eyes on you that winter evening, seeing you next to Jaemin and the resemblance in both of your eyes and hearing your English-accented voice for the first time, he had loved you more than he should have.

He grew to like all of you, the parts of you that drank Nesquik (like a little kid) when you were tired, that craved boba but held back from buying it because it was “unhealthy”, the parts of you that hated pineapple on pizza and thought he was an idiot. He loved when you were scared of the most trivial things, only to do risky shit when you thought no one was looking.

Most importantly, he loved the way you smiled with all your heart, your mouth open wide and your lips stretched wider than he thought was physically possible. Joy was written in the crease of your smile and the folds of your skin, and he loved every part of you.

He loved you so much, in fact, that when he reached into his pocket to send you a text to tell you he missed you, he realised that he had forgotten his phone amidst the residual shock he had woken up in that morning.

When he heard his name, he whirled around at the familiar voice and saw his saviour running toward him with a Tupperware in one hand and his phone in the other, hair sticking up in all different directions, still wearing pyjama pants.

“Y/n,” he breathed out. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?”

You ran your hand through your hair in response, shoving his phone into his hand.

“I… saw that Mark had cut some fruits for Chenle, and I know that you’re bad at taking care of yourself so… I brought it for you. Don’t worry, I’ll cut more for Chenle later, he’ll just have to deal with not having them in his favourite container.” The words came out all in a rush, between pants and wheezes. Running clearly wasn’t your speciality.

“I wasn’t worried,” Donghyuck said. “And thank you.”

“Someone’s got to love you right, even if that means reminding you that your body requires nutrients to survive,” you muttered, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Is that so?” You nodded sagely, and he laughed, and somewhere in your mind, you managed to conjure up the word pretty.

DONGHYUCK WAS SO COCKY. You had always known it, but seeing him leaning languidly against the opening to the small photo booth, curly hair falling into his eyes, peering through his lashes as he watched your every movement, you were reminded of it.

Each of the eight of you were clutching your graduation hats, Jaemin, Jeno, Renjun and Jisung hovering outside the photo booth while they waited for you to browse through the frames.

Everyone was dressed in their graduation gowns, having rushed to take a picture at the nearby mall the second you had all received your diplomas. Chenle had insisted that four-cut photos were a tradition, and you didn’t want to miss out on the chance to take more photos.

After taking the goofiest photos ever (Jaemin had had lots of fun posing, and you had a bruise on your hip from falling into the “door” frame), the gang decided to let you and Chenle pick a frame and print it out.

“Quickly,” Jaemin’s voice called. “Y/n, what exactly are you doing? It doesn’t take that long to click an option!”

Mark left you and Chenle to choose, going outside the photo booth to pacify Jaemin.

Finally, you and Chenle managed to agree on an option that both of you liked, and the machine began whirring as it spat out the eight copies. You snatched them from Chenle, whistling as you exited the photo booth, waving the photos triumphantly at the rest.

“Done!”

All of a sudden, Donghyuck started cooing, “Aww, you want to kiss me so bad.” Before you knew what he was talking about, he tiptoed to reach your lips and gave you a quick peck.

“What?” The realisation dawned on you a moment later, remembering how you had puckered your lips while whistling. Donghyuck, ever the opportunist, had obviously taken the chance to kiss you again. “Hyuck, you kissed me. I don’t think I’m the desperate one here.”

Donghyuck would have responded if Renjun and Chenle’s hands hadn’t appeared out of nowhere, shoving you into the photo booth. The last thing you saw before they drew the curtains shut was Jaemin with his arms crossed over his chest, smirking at you.

“Guess we’re stuck together, then.” Donghyuck didn’t seem thrown off in the least, quietly clicking through the options before he settled on one. The timer beeped, and you followed Donghyuck’s lead to make a heart.

You posed a total of three times before Donghyuck ran out of ideas, and he stared at you as the countdown grew louder. Three, two, one…

“Kiss me back, Hyuckie,” you murmured as you tilted Donghyuck’s chin up to meet yours. The light flashed, and you reluctantly pulled away to check the results. The pictures turned out adorable, and you slipped it into your wallet and grinned at Donghyuck.

“You stole my line!”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Well, you were wrong about the perilla debate, so I think it evens out.”

“What do you mean? We’re together now, aren’t we? Therefore, it must have been because I separated the perilla leaves for you that one time, which makes my stand the correct one.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway because neither of us were in a relationship at the time,” you reminded him. Renjun and Jeno heard only the tail-end of your conversation as you exited the confined space, and they sighed tiredly.

Seeing their reactions, you couldn’t help but laugh. You loved Lee Donghyuck so fucking much.

- fin -

if you liked it, REBLOG it.

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dandylovesturtles · 11 months

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Rise Dad Simulator: Part 1 (Intro)

Two weeks after the apocalypse was thwarted, and New York City is still a mess. The external carnage reflects the internal turmoil of Splinter's home: each of his sons injured, hurting, but still alive. They'll heal, but it's slow going, and that's what led him out of the sewers today, on a supply run for food and medicine.

The one good thing about the massive destruction is that no one is around, and that makes it easy for Splinter to slip into grocery stores and pharmacies, on the hunt for cans and bandages and pills. Much has been picked over by now, but he's still able to gather a sizeable haul, and he carts it back toward the lair in a bag carried by a small drone that Donnie made for him.

He's moving at a steady but unhurried pace, so as not to tax his old bones, when his ears, still sensitive despite his age, pick up on the sound of yelling from the lair. Purple and Blue, if he had to guess, their shouts incoherent as they mix together.

He moves to a brisk walk, then a run as their voices rise in volume, a thunderous cacophony. The worst is flashing through his mind: an enemy has found them again, and his sons, still weak from recovery, are all alone. They'll fight, he knows they will, to defend their home and each other, and that's what he's afraid of - the worst visions from the last two weeks of lost sleep rolling before his eyes, each of his boys lost to him forever.

That's what he's expecting to find when he skids to a stop at the top of the old broken down escalator. But there is no enemy. There is no bloodshed.

There are only his sons, gathered in the kitchen but seemingly far apart. He was right: Blue and Purple are yelling at each other, Purple's hands gesticulating at mile a minute while Blue leans on his crutches and glares back. Between them, Orange is sobbing, his arms wrapped tightly around his midsection, trembling as he watches his older brothers fight. And off on the edges of it all stands Red, his face blank, haunted, and he says nothing even as the fight in front of him escalates.

Before Splinter can do anything to silence them, Orange breaks - he runs, pushing past them to make a beeline for his room. The movement seems to snap Red out of whatever trance he's fallen into, and he leaves next, straight for the training room.

That leaves Purple and Blue, their fight dimming as they realize their audience has left.

"I'm going to my lab," Purple snaps, turning on his heel.

"Good! Do us a favor and don't come out!"

"I won't!"

Purple disappears up the stairs. With shaky movements, Leo hobbles his way back to the medbay. Splinter is left at the top of the stairs, unnoticed and alone.

He makes his way to the kitchen, followed by the drone. There's a broken bottle of pasta sauce on the ground, shattered glass scattered over the floor. There's a pot boiling on the stove, and he flicks it off with his tail. The groceries are set on the counter, though he doesn't move to unpack them. There's nothing that needs the cold, anyway.

He wonders what he should do.

His sons have fought many times before, and most often he leaves them to sort it out themselves. Conflict resolution is good for growing children to learn, and he doubts they would appreciate an old man involving himself in their disputes, anyway.

But this is different. His kids have never been through such a fight - even after the Shredder, they were not so injured. They didn't come so close to losing everything.

Perhaps he should intervene this time?

But if he does, who should he go to first? His sons scattered in different directions. There are four of them, and he is only one rat-man.

How can he decide?

Thank you for 1000 followers! More info under the cut. :)

WELCOME to something I have wanted to do for awhile now: an interactive story! Set immediately post-movie and dealing with a lot of the emotional and physical trauma the boys went through... well, assuming you guys choose to pursue it!

Other people write post-movie fanfics and I decide to do this instead... oh boy.

Rise Dad Simulator will deal with: Rise movie spoilers, the emotional/mental trauma of said movie, discussion of physical injuries and other health conditions including seizures, self-worth issues, and general themes of hurt/comfort and some angst. I don't think we'll need any more content warnings but I'll update if so!

HOW THIS WORKS:

There will be 4 primary rounds. The start of each round will have voting for 1 week (and maybe other particularly important choices will too), while smaller choices in between will have voting for 1 day.

This doesn't necessarily mean I will update every day! I do have other stuff going on lol. But I will try to stay prompt!

Based on the results of each poll, I will write the next part of the story. Vote for where you think the story should go! There are no wrong answers... though there are multiple endings I have planned, so keep that in mind. :)

I'll be tagging all posts for this story with the following tags:

rise dad simulator update (this tag will have the polls)

rise dad simulator

The second tag is just for if I have any asks or anything related to the story - if you only want to see the story updates/polls, use the first tag!

Also feel free to reblog! And thanks again for 1000 followers! Never thought we'd be here but here we are!

#dandy fanfiction #rise dad simulator update #rise dad simulator #rise splinter #rise leonardo #rise donatello #rise raphael #rise michelangelo #rottmnt #i'm really nervous about this #but fuck it we ball

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goorehound · 1 year

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okay I’m feeling petty and frustrated with the way people are treating severe social anxiety right now because I have gotten enough shit for not being manly enough because of my anxiety. so it’s time to project on to könig! here’s a bunch of stuff that makes me debilitatingly anxious that I think König would also struggle with.

Sfw (one nsfw), König Headcanons, talk of anxiety

Things I think would make König anxious

Most of the time that he is experiencing anxiety, nobody will have the vaguest notion. Especially strangers in public. That shit is incredibly internal for him. But chances are if he’s having a conversation with someone he doesn’t deem a close friend, his brain is going a mile a minute. Should I have said that? Could I have phrased it better? Are they staring at me? Did I say that right? Was that a joke? I can’t believe I just said that. How do I end this conversation? Do they think I’m being an asshole?

Stores. He’s not a fan of new stores. He’s not a fan of stores where people will go out of their way to ask if he needs anything. He’ll go, sure, of course. If he needs to buy shit, he has to do what he has to do. But stores, especially grocery stores, often come with the overwhelming sense of dread. He’s convinced that somehow everyone will be looking at him and analyzing his every move, and will realize he’s just some big moron. Yeah. Grocery stores suck.

Someone got his order wrong? Like fuck is this man about to be like “I asked for no pickles.” Beyond that, he could be given a completely wrong dish and he’d shrug because whatever, I’ll eat that too even if he’s really not a fan. You’d be insane to think he’d call over some poor waiter to complain about perfectly edible food. No way.

Starting conversations. He hates that, he finds it much easier to follow somebody else’s lead. It’s just too much hassle, he spends so long fretting over how to start it that by the time he has an idea it feels like way too much time has passed. May as well continue sitting there and not acknowledge each other if he’s made it this long without a fucking word. Otherwise he’d just feel awkward breaking such a long silence. Then again he’s worried they’ll think he’s a huge asshole for not saying a single word to them. Still. He doesn’t actually want to try and navigate a conversation. Honestly, he’d much rather people just stay the fuck away from him if he’s having a bad anxiety day.

He rehearses what he wants to say in his head, and my guy is so ashamed when he goes to finally say it and it comes out completely fucking garbled. Either he swaps a couple words around or it’s just partially incoherent because he’s trying to get it out so fast. You can see the defeat in this man’s eyes, and he’ll usually follow his fuck up with saying “Nope, that’s not right.” Or some kind of frustrated curse.

Doctors appointments. Awful. The endless sea of embarrassing possibilities there is a fucking minefield. Again, he’ll do it if he has to, but he’d really rather fucking not if he can avoid it.

(NSFW) Flirting and dirty talk. If you looked him in the eye and asked him to dirty talk you, he’d probably stop breathing for a second. Sometimes he says some foul absolutely toe-curling shit in the heat of the moment, especially when he’s close and loses his filter, but it has to be spontaneous. If he thinks about it too much he’ll get way too in his head and probably not even be able to get it up.

Phone calls! No. Just no. Fucking no. He’d rather carve his eyes out with a spoon than make a phone call.

#könig #könig x reader #mwii #cod #mw2 #headcanons

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sookiesookie · 1 year

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swim good₊˚.༄ shuri udaku pt.1

titled inspired by “swim good” by frank ocean

paring: shuri udaku x blk fem! reader

summary: (a cliche) in sitcom-like fashion, an unathletic shuri udaku attempts to join the swim team to impress a girl she likes.

part summary: shuri is smitten and her lovesick ass gets into trouble.

word count: 2.5k

content will include: third person story-telling + reader goes by all pronouns, nerd!shuri, pining!shuri, athlete stem!reader, reader is aware of shuri’s efforts and finds it adorable, the reader is a huge tease, reader’s a flirt but they’re rlly sweet too, reader is shorter than shuri but stronger, college au, swim sports au, peter parker and friends cameo as her lil nerd group (???), shuriri are besties and dormates, swim teacher!namor, t’challa is alive and he’s the wrestling team coach :’), wrestling team co-coach!m’baku, fencing teacher!okoye mentioned, literature teacher!nakia mentioned, shuri’s hair is the short coily undercut in this story, I refer shuri by like six diff nicknames for fun bc it’s funny and we having fun, by “purple-clad” shuri I mean purple flannel and not the tracksuit, y’know, bc she’s a nerd /hj, I call them teens bc they’re still eightTEEN and nighTEEN, a good chunk of the story is just the other characters dogging on shuri for her sitcom ahh decisions and lines lmao, lots of banter, sitcom-like corniness and humor, sexual jokes but not rlly any content, some tension tho, pretty much fluff, just a lil fun🤷🏾‍♂️

a/n: i didn’t know whether to make this a college au or high school au bc technically I’m bout to leave high school but I’m also not in college yet so idk what id get right or wrong sooooo I’mma play it safe and go freshmen in college???

tags: @bellaallebbella1 for the dt @pinkwright @inmyheadimobsessed @zayswriting @generallysapphic bc they’re the pioneers and my favs fr, and @vampzxi cuz it’s lowkey inspired the shuri high school headcannons even tho it’s not rlly even close but shoutout fr

alsooooo since just getting back into writing like this outside of school direction and im not used to writing a straight shot one shot, this gon be multiple parts IM SAWRIIIIIIIIII, it’s only 2 parts tho

AGAIN THIS IS MY FIRST FF IN A WHILE AND I DIDNT HAVE ANYONE PROOFREAD IM SAWRI IF THE PACING OR THE PLOT COMES OFF INCOHERENT😭😭

[MONDAY AFTERNOON]

Her smooth silk brown skin glistens

under the sunlit illuminated windows

as the water trickles

down her broad shoulders

to her god-crafted muscles,

flexing with every step they take

ever

slightly

out the pool.

Their chest heaving,

a slightly tired

yet heavy gaze

as they skim around the room at their peers,

eyes landing on one particular figure

with a similar look in their eye.

Her stoic demeanor is slowly replaced

with a playful smirk as she eyes...

wait…

SHE’S LOOKING AT ME-

SHIT!

Shuri snaps out of her internal monologue, jumping from the huge glass that peered into the school’s aquatic center, and quickly bolts through the double doors that lead to the hallway. When she’s out of sight, she slumps over, catching her breath. “Wow, Ms. Nakia would have either granted me an A+ or sent me to the principal’s office with the type of words I was thinking,” Shuri chuckles to herself.

After a brief pause at her words, her face heats up as she quickly facepalms in shame.

“What the hell am I saying?”

Reluctant, she trudges down the hall in embarrassment, making her way to the place she considered her third home: the science building computer lab (her second home was chemistry lab 2b).

In there resides Peter Parker and Ned Leeds, sitting around a desktop clicking away at some first-person shooter game, with an unwavering MJ Watson sitting a couple of seats away from the boisterous boys, head in a book per the usual. All three teens lined up in typical geeky fashion. Shuri slumps her book bag over a computer table, the sudden noise breaking the immersion of the boys who then looked up from their game, spotting the presence of their purple-clad friend.

“Dude, what have you been doing all this time?” Ned scowls. “We didn’t have any clubs today and we’ve been waiting for you for the past twenty minutes to walk to that new milk tea cafe MJ’s been telling us about.”

Not lifting her head from her book, MJ snarkily remarks, “She’s probably been too busy ogling the crap out of that poor girl over at the aqua center.”

Shuri’s face heats up as she’s quick to defend herself. “Cut it out! Of course I wasn’t!”

MJ smirks, still not looking up from her book. “Sorry, lemme rephrase that better: she’s probably been too busy eye fucking the crap out of that poor girl over at the aqua center.” Blood rushes through Shuri’s cheeks as she sputters incompressible excuses from her mouth, MJ giggling at her discomposure from her book.

“You’re such a mess, Shuri! When are you gonna finally buckle down and rizz her up– or at least go up and talk to the girl instead of borderline stalking her almost every afternoon?” Peter playfully pokes the purple-clad.

Shuri sucks her teeth, swatting him away. “One: the word ‘rizz’ sounds extremely uncanny coming out of your mouth. Please refrain from using that word around me again.”

Collective snorts bounce off the embarrassed white teen whose shit-eating grin twists into a poker face.

“Two: I don’t eye Y/N almost every afternoon.” Shuri pshaws and waves everyone off.

“Oh, my bad!'' Peter dramatically gasps, slapping a hand over his chest. “It’s every morning, lunch break, assembly, dinner break, class transition, and EVERY afternoon.” Collective snickers break out as Shuri backhands Peter, not harshly, but hard enough to derive a strained “ack!” out of him.

“But seriously, Shuri, it’s about time you try and get this girl’s number.” MJ goes on, finally looking up from her book and putting it on the table spine up. “It’s no use for you to keep on hopelessly pining after this girl from afar and not putting in the effort to actually pursue her.” Shuri slumps into a chair and releases an exasperated sigh.

“I do, but what would a versatile and talented girl want with a one-trick pony nerd like me?” MJ visibly cringes at the purple-clad’s words. “Ewww man, this isn’t the 80s! We are NOT living in a Disney Channel sitcom. There’s a lot of people would go for somebody as smart and intelligent as you, you know that.”

“Yeah, maybe to do their homework for them,” Shuri retorts. MJ pauses. “Hmmm, now that claim, I won’t completely disagree with...” “MJ!” Ned dramatically gasps as he lightly slaps MJ on the shoulder.

“Don’t listen to her, Shuri. You are perfectly capable of winning Y/N over just the way you are.”

The purple-clad snickers. “Now THAT was something you could’ve sworn was straight out of a Disney Channel sitcom.”

About 15 minutes later, the eccentric group of teens close up the computer lab and continue down the hallways with milk tea on their minds… except for Shuri. She trails behind the bunch, head hung low, peeping at Y/N’s Instagram.

As her walking gets slower as she’s gaping at her phone, the coil-haired nerd brushes her shoulder against what she thinks is just a wall. She lifts her head to notice the shorter, dark, and gorgeous swimmer— the same one on her phone that she still had in open view.

“Oh! Whassup, Miss Shuri!” Y/N’s eyes light up as he greets the taller.

Shuri’s breath hitches at the lovely emphasis put on her name, blood running cold as she quickly checks her peripheral to make sure the gang wasn’t around to humiliate her more than she already was.

Meanwhile, the teens heard what was going on behind them, but chose to continue on their merry way, intentionally leaving the two alone in the middle of the hallway.

She looks back at the short athlete and returns the greeting with a bashful smile. “What brings you here, Y/N?” The nerd quickly asks in a desperate attempt to carry the conversation, forgetting that people don’t need a reason to just roam the halls, something she mentally facepalms herself for right after.

“Nothin’ much,” Y/N chuckles at Shuri’s nervous efforts. “I’m just coming out of my swim practice. Mr. Namor was runnin’ me dry today.”

The athlete pauses as if she’s recalling something, the corners of her mouth slowly curling into a knowing smirk.

“I saw you peeping me over at the center earlier,” she drawls, “figured you wanted to speak to me about somethin’?” The athlete’s tongue subtly swipes across her bottom lip, as she gazes up at Shuri with a particular look in her eye, irises occasionally shifting down to the open Instagram page still on her phone, waiting for an excuse.

It was enough for the poor nerd to melt into a puddle, knees buckle and collapse, and lay sprawled across the hallway floor right then and there, but luckily for her, she still possessed a pinch of dignity left within her. With fleeting composure, gripping her backpack strap with strain, Shuri gives a weak pshaw.

“Me? I was just passing by! I just really like watching the team…”

You…

“...practice.”

As Shuri desperately attempts to form more words that can potentially save her, her eyes flicker to a *very convenient* bulletin board behind the shorter athlete. There, plastered on the brown surface was a poster: “CALLING FOR NEW MEMBERS! Swim Team Tryouts This Thursday at 5 pm! Swim Your Way To Success!”

Oh, Bast…

“In fact, I’m thinking of trying out for the swim team myself,” the nerd straightens up and states proudly, hoping she masked the way she winced at her words.

Y/N, who was expecting a different answer, gapes at the helpless girl in slight shock. “Oh, for real? That’s crazy! I never pegged you as a swimmer, Shuri.”

The nerd’s mouth forms a goofy grin. “And why is that?” She dramatically slaps a hand on her chest. “Is it because I’m of the darker persuasion?”

This derives a hearty cackle out of the shorter athlete, Shuri’s stomach fluttering from the fact that she made the girl laugh.

“Negro, please,” Y/N catches his breath and straightens up. “It’s because… I mean…” The shorter athlete trails off, eyeing Shuri up and down, the nerd’s cheeks heating up in the act.

“You know what? Nevermind. I can’t blame you for wanting to try. Hell, I’ve been swimming since 4 years old, the feeling’s exhilarating.” Y/N sighs off into the distance, as Shuri internally gushes at the shorter athlete’s passion.

Suddenly she snaps out of her trance and backtracks on the words of the other girl.

“Can’t blame me for wanting to ‘try’? Are you still assuming I can’t swim?”

Y/N waves his hands in defense. “No! I’m just saying–”

“Well I’m GOING to try out, I’m GOING to swim like a pro, and I’m GOING to get on the team!”

After a brief pause at her sudden outburst of competitiveness, Shuri reels it back in with a small “...respectfully,” and a cheeky smile.

Amused at the nerd’s sudden wave of confidence, Y/N clasps their hands together in accord. “Sounds like a plan then! I guess I’ll be seeing you Thursday then.” The shorter athlete readjusts the duffle bag strap on her shoulder and starts to walk closer to Shuri, laying an encouraging, yet, knowing hand on the taller’s shoulder, and leans into her ear.

Shuri could have sworn she was imagining what was rasped next.

“Word of advice: work on that backstroke… I know I will.”

Y/N then pulls away with an innocent grin and brushes past the appalled nerd, continuing on their merry way, but to suddenly turn around to yell one last thing:

“And your phone’s still on!”

Frozen in place, the girl slowly peers down to her cellular (one she made the mistake of changing the display settings to go into sleep mode after 5 minutes) still on Y/N’s Instagram page.

Once the athlete was out of sight, Shuri’s knees buckled as she grips the nearest wall, releasing a sigh of relief, quickly washed over with a wave of anxiousness.

What have I got myself into?

“Y’know a backstroke is a type of swim move, right?”

Riri chuckles at Shuri as she clicks away on her calculator, doing her homework on her bed. The young prodigy lifts her face from it being buried in her pillow and whines.

“But she said it so… sultry like… and her voice was so… raspy… it felt INTENTIONAL!”

“Or maybe your horny ass misconstrued her words and heard ‘backshots’ instead of ‘backstrokes’!” Riri giggled as Shuri proceeded to throw a pillow at the girl.

“Regardless, either word could be used as an innuendo, she did it on purpose,” Shuri retorts.

“Okay, okay, whatever. Sooo, what are you gonna do?”

Shuri flops back on her bed with a sigh. “I will try out for the swim team, like I said I would. I mean, she sounded so intrigued when I mentioned I was interested, and the passion in the way she speaks about it— I should at LEAST try.”

“Aww, I guess that’s fair,” Riri begins to coo. “If you knew how to swim.”

“Huh?”

“Shuri, I have never seen you TOUCH water unless it was for drinking or an experiment, let alone be EMERGED in water outside of taking showers and baths in it. We’ve had campus water activities and pool days before and each time you’ve said ‘I’m busy, I’m busy.’”

“Well I was, you know I have school work as my top priority.”

“We have them during school breaks, Shuri, you don’t work on a school break!”

Riri releases an exasperated sigh. “Shuri, can you swim or not?” The prodigy gives her friend a hesitant look. “I mean, I’m not the worst at it…”

“Shuri, just say you’re shit at swimming.”

“Fucking hate it.” Shuri blurts out. “Haven’t stepped foot into a pool since I was 6.”

“Damn it, Shuri!”

“You wanted me to be honest!”

Riri chuckles in disbelief, shaking her head. “That’s not even it, Shuri! Swim team try-outs are on Thursday, that’s in THREE DAYS! You barely know how to swim, what makes you think you’ll be ready within the next three days?”

“I’ll figure it out, okay?” Shuri stresses, trying to calm herself down. “I mean, you seem to know how to swim. Why don’t you teach me?”

“One: you dug this silly lil’ hole yourself,” Riri wags her finger at the prodigy, “I’m not helping you with shit. The most I’ll do is braid your hair back the night before so it can fit better in the swim cap you’ll have to put on. Two: I couldn’t teach you even if I wanted to because I wouldn’t have time, I’m stacked up on homework for the next few days.”

Shuri groans in her pillow, flopping back down on her bed once again. The young prodigy felt hopeless with no more ideas left… except for one last hope.

“No.”

“C’mon, brother! This is my love life on the line!”

T’Challa chuckles, crossing his arms. “You got yourself into this mess when you knew you couldn’t swim.” He raises is hands in defense. “You have a death wish, I am not helping you.”

“But that’s what Riri said!” Shuri whines.

“Well Riri is a good friend, keep her around. As for me, I have a gym to organize so I am going to continue what I was doing.” T’Challa does just that as he starts to pick up idle weights off the floor.

“I’ll pay you!”

“I have a job, and you’re a broke college student.”

“But with an internship!”

“An unpaid internship.”

“I’ll be your very best friend!”

“I’m your brother, and I already have plenty of friends.”

“Oh, like that old brute that works alongside you?”

“I heard that, you oversized midget!” A snarky coach M’baku scowls from the connected office.

“I’m 5’5!”

“And I’m 6’5, midget!”

Shuri rolls her eyes waves him off. “You work with that oversized man baby,” she sneers to T’Challa.

The older chuckles as he continues to tune out his sister’s persuasions while he tidies around the ring.

“Brother, please!” Shuri drops to her knees dramatically, rubbing her hands together in impatience. “I’m becoming desperate, I REALLY need your help!”

The younger continues to plead as the older man begins to cringe at the pathetic display, checking his peripheral to make sure she wasn’t causing a scene for unwarranted pedestrians that may walk past the gym.

“Okay okay, I will help you! Just stand up, PLEASE! You’re embarrassing me!” T’Challa quickly reassures the girl on the ground.

Shuri’s pleas quickly halt as she jumps to her feet, showering her brother with “thank you”s.

“Ahh, don’t thank me yet,” the older waves the girl off. “And I’m only going to be RE teaching you the basics. Any extra stunts you want to pull for your little girlfriend besides that will be on your accord.”

“Deal,” Shuri clasps her hands together.

“Now will you please leave me be? I have a gym to attend to.”

“Whatever,” Shuri remarks as she starts to head for the exit, “But just know I will be at the gym pool, bright eyed and bushy tailed tomorrow morning!”

The girl slaps the doorway wall and points at her brother, who both chuckles and cringes at her enthusiasm.

Once the bubbly teen was out of sight, M’baku wheels himself to the office doorway in his rolling chair.

“You know she’s going to drown herself.”

A reluctant T’Challa sighs. “Yep.”

To be continued headass…

317 notes · View notes

gyumibear · 11 months

Text

💖 create a sim(p)! — 18: friends?

synopsis — after stupidly claiming on stream that you’ve been dating popular youtuber choi beomgyu in secret after accidentally creating an identically looking sim, you beg him not to reveal your lie to the public when it goes viral. weirdly, he agrees and you two begin to fool the public. can your lie become the truth or will it eventually catch up with you?

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a/n — back with another written chapter! but this time it’s gyu’s pov! (wc: ~1k) as for warnings: swearing, mentions of murder, mentions of pineapple pizza(😭) and beomgyu having an internal crisis throughout the whole thing!

“What’s up?” Beomgyu greeted, walking smoothly into your room.

“Sit. We have much to discuss.” You ordered.

He plopped himself down in the bean bag chair.

“First order of business, my mandatory freak out.”

Beomgyu looked at you confused. His expression only amplified into one of abject horror when you, without further explanation, started screaming incoherently into your pillows. Your arms flailing wildly, you let out all your grievances and curses while Beomgyu watched on in silence, unsure whether to flee or comfort.

After you tired yourself out, you lifted your head, your neutral expression returned to your face. Beomgyu was relieved you were done screaming, given he had just become super concerned about you. Friends worry about friends right? He thought, thinking back to his conversation with Keeho and the others. Yeah, but you can also worry about someone you’re interested in. What the hell- now is NOT the time to be worried about that.

“Are you okay?” He asked quickly, desperate to clear his thoughts from his mind. “That was… unexpected.”

“I told you beforehand I was going to have a mandatory freak out. Be grateful I had the sense to not scream without the muffler.” You barked, absolutely no bite attached. Beomgyu shrugged, deciding to let you have that.

Wait, am I just doing that because I like-

“Second order of business!” You clapped your hands, snapping Beomgyu out of his mind. “We need to figure out how to address the thread.”

“Would it be crazy for me to say…” Beomgyu started, unsure how his next words would go, “I don’t think we should address it all?”

“Why would we not?!”

“Listen… It’s just giving that person what they want: attention. Nobody else was agreeing with them, so it’s not like we have much to worry about.”

“Not yet! But what if people start reading deeper into everything we do? Then we’re in deep shit.”

“You’re in deep shit.” He corrected without much thought, immediately facepalming himself for two reasons.

One, that was an asshole thing to say. And two, the way your face immediately fell made him feel like crap.

“Oh yeah… I forgot…” You whispered softly, more to yourself than out loud.

“No no, wait.” He didn’t like that expression on your face. “I didn’t mean that. Slip of the tongue. You’re right. It’s our problem, and we should fix it together.”

Friends don’t leave friends to drown. Even if said friend is in this situation because of their own stupid, idiotic actions.

“Yeah…” You nodded before looking away.

Now, it was like a wall was between the two of you. Beomgyu felt kinda bad. This whole time you had been trying to be nice to him and build a friendship, but he only gave you half-hearted reactions and treatment. Sure, you had probably only done it so that your fake relationship would look realer, but still… You were trying so hard… And he wasn’t trying enough.

No wonder he was so confused about whether he liked you as a friend or partner. Fake dating really is a terrible idea.

“Hey, why don’t we stream again? Like nothing happened, and if someone asks we can shut it down there?” He suggested, wanting to fill the silence and show you he cared at the same time.

“That could work… What should we say?”

“Pretty much that that person is reaching. It’s simple, to the point and we don’t have to make anything up.” Beomgyu made a mental note to also make a tweet condemning any of his fans for spewing hate about you. “How about that?”

“Sounds good to me. When should we do this?”

“Yeonjun actually wanted to be in one of my vlogs, so we can meet up with him tomorrow? Hang out and then record? Two birds with one stone…”

“Yeonjun…?”

“My best friend.”

“Ah… Wait, you brought your friend with you? What, you thought I was gonna murder you or something?”

“He had to shoot!” Beomgyu defended, “And to be fair, he was the one that thought you’d murder me. I trust you.”

“Oh really?” You looked surprised.

“Yeah,” Beomgyu smirked mischievously, “Trust that you wouldn’t be stupid enough to try anything. You have no chance against me.”

“What?! I’d totally kick your butt if I wanted to!”

“Sure.” He dragged out the last syllable, making it extremely clear that he was being sarcastic.

“You know what? Let’s go! Right now!”

“No thanks, I don’t wanna have to explain to Yeonjun why we have to flee back to Korea before I get arrested.”

“You are not funny!”

The way you guys could playfully banter like this was making Beomgyu even more confused. He enjoyed your company, which was normal for friends… But he couldn’t help but think you were so attractive the way you shook your fist at him. It’s not like he wanted to kiss you. Or did he? Do friends kiss? God, he sounded like a loser right now.

Maybe he should text his friends again…

If Taehyun was here he’d probably set Beomgyu straight. But Taehyun would also drag him for every decision he’s ever made and then call him dumb. Jake was unhelpful for things like this, given he was a prime example of what not to do in relationships. Yeonjun was helpful… when he was available. Which wasn’t often. He was probably out right now. Keeho? He was pretty normal and pretty helpful too… But, he was addicted to being in people’s business and getting himself involved with both sides of the party...He did not want Keeho to start talking to you.

Maybe he should just take a nap.

“Fine, fine, you win.”

“Damn right I do!” You grinned, laying on your back to look up at your bare ceiling. “So… What do you wanna do for dinner?”

“Pizza?”

“Yes! Can we get it with pineapples?”

“No? What monster eats pizza with pineapples?”

“I’ll have you know me and NingNing adore pineapple pizza.”

“WHO??”

“Oh! That’s what I call Kai.”

“Oh. I thought you had an imaginary friend or something…Anyways… No pineapple on the pizza.”

“Darn.”

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