#and convincing yourself all your actions are ones of Morality is Not the way you should go about ANYTHING ever

[snekdood]

i just struggle to believe theres any ethical way to harvest meat. farm animal dying of old age? yeah. ok. sure. but farm animals aren't going to be perpetually dying of old age enough to fulfill the demand for their meats. you can make better and more convincing arguments to me for ethically harvesting eggs, wool and milk rather than meat.

[foone]

Your best guess is that you've been in this time loop for something north of 15 years. You've lived that day, April 9th, 1997, something like 6000 times. You think... The second most ironic thing about being in this time loop* is that you have ADHD, and time blindness has always been something you've suffered with.

The time loop hasn't helped. You'll really get into a book, and don't look up from it until it's yesterday. Or, earlier today? Or tomorrow, it's all the same day. You wake up in your bed at 8:27, having slept through your alarm, no matter what happens. You've had plenty of time to do all the classic time loop things: told everyone (they forget the next day), kissed everyone (a surprising number of people turn out to be up for itl), tried to run (you made it all the way to Memphis one day, but it didn't make any difference), tried to make everything perfect and right (harder than you'd think, and there's nothing obvious that needs fixing), and gotten yourself exploded and shot and run over. You even made it into orbit once, NASA still swearing at you on the radio the whole way up. You've robbed all the local banks, kidnapped the mayor, and stolen half the stuff in the town, just to see what people have. Why not? It's hard to have a sense of morality when there are no repercussions to any actions, at least none that last more than 24 hours.

You convinced a scientist to shoot neutrinos at you once, thanks to something you'd read in a book on time. Didn't seem to make any difference, though you could swear the next day felt different, in some hard to define way.

You've gotten into a rhythm of starting each day and just walking out your front door, to visit a different place in the city, and knock on their door. If they're home, you ask questions, then use the answers next time to get further. If not, you let yourself in and see what their house looks like from the inside.

Even their shocking crimes no longer can shock you. Mr. Stevens is a burgler, Jenny J. is halfway through murdering her husband, Alex over on 5th street has a basement full of photos they shouldn't have, and more neighbors than you'd think are cooking meth or growing cannabis in their little backyard sheds or closets.

You can go to the police, you can confront them, you can explose them, or you can get a weapon and go all vigilante on them... It doesn't matter in the long run (and for you, the long run is very short indeed). They'll be fine the next morning, back at it again like nothing happened.

You wake up that same Wednesday morning, put on some clothes, and walk out the door. You got into a gimmick of crossing the road with your eyes closed: you know where the cars are, and if you keep the same pace, they definitely won't hit you. Besides, if you do, you wake up back in your bed. Big woop.

But you don't make it to the road this time. You trip, falling on the hard concrete of the sidewalk. What the hell? Your arms ache from catching yourself, and you have to suppress the time-looper instinct of "I hurt. Restart the loop!",at least until you figure out what happened.

You look back and there's a sneaker sitting on the sidewalk. A perfectly normal shoe, just a little skuffed up. A bit down the sidewalk, there's another, the other foot presumably.

You have a moment of equal parts panic and elation. You're out of the loop? You're out of the loop! This might be Thursday.

You gather yourself from the sidewalk and run back up the path to your door. You open the newspaper... April 9th. This is still the same day. You look back at the road, seeing the patterns of crossing cars you've seen thousands of times before. You listen, and your neighborhood sounds right. You can hear Timothy down the road yelling about baseball, so it's not 9:14 yet.

This isn't a new day. This is the day. This is your day. So why is something different? What, a partial time loop? And almost time loop? Most things are the same, but not all? It makes no sense.

You hear yelling down the road. You jog towards it, as an out of place sound just doesn't happen in your day. Around the corner there's a police officer shouting at a woman who is rapidly disrobing and flinging her discarded clothes at the officer, who is shouting at her and his radio. So far, she seems to be winning, but she's about out of linen ammunition.

You realize you don't recognize her. She's not one of the people you know, and you know everyone. She's someone new, the very anthesis of what a time loop is about. That, combined with recognizing that charicatistic disdain for consequences makes you gasp. My God... She's another time looper. She's done this day before, and it's just repeated, and now she's doing everything to see what happens. You're not alone in this crowded city anymore! You run towards her, eager to introduce yourself.

* Themost ironic thing about being in this time loop is that every copy of Groundhog Day at your local Blockbuster is checked out.

[nnight-dances]

ADORABLY, YOURS.

pairings: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader, feat. choi seungcheol tropes: love triangle, friends to lovers (jeonghan x you), strangers to friends to fwb to friends (seungcheol x you), kinda slowburn, one-sided love (or is it?), pining, slight age gap (2-3 years) etc. genres: fluff, angst, jealousy, sexual content (no explicit smut content but references to it) with vulgar language, cafe!au, non-idol!au, college!au. word count: 12k (I am sorry about this.) what to expect:  You’ve liked Jeonghan since you met him through your best friend, Wonwoo. But little by little every day you’re convinced he knows you like him and his non-action can only mean your feelings are not mutual. Then, you run into Seungcheol, a childhood best friend of Jeonghan’s, who instantly develops a soft spot for you. The resulting love triangle that wreaks havoc on your emotions might as well end being the answer to your problems. Bittersweet like coffee but decisive as a caffeine rush, this is the story of how you beat all odds to be with Yoon Jeonghan.  warnings slash author’s note: I warn you beforehand: the logistics of this love triangle are a bit morally ambiguous, i.e. I can’t tell if I used Seungcheol purely as a plot-point or not. I probably did. But in my defense, I think all love triangles are inherently a little bit evil and cruel. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this admittedly self-indulgent mammoth of a fic. I had a headache the whole three days I was writing it. I love Jeonghan and I promise there will be a make-up fic for Seungcheol, because I’m biased but not corrupt. As always, this isn't proofread but I will get to that in the next few days! All right, that’s all. Love you, friends and foes!

It’s one of those days. You can’t help yawn after yawn and no amount of caffeine is washing the throbbing in your head away. To make things worse, you’ve managed to sleep with a spine posture worse than even your worst days which means your back hurts from standing at the register all day. But the day is far from over as a glance at the clock informs you; your cafe shift has a good three hours remaining. 

And whenever you’re hoping to take a break on the uncomfortable chair propped in a corner near the register, the door to the cafe will jingle with the presence of a new customer. At least your co-worker for the day, Joshua, is also a friend so you can talk his ear off about the various ways in which you might escape the prison of existence.

Just as you’re going into detail about how you wouldn’t mind dissipating into air, the glass door swings open and in comes a tall man clad in a suit, the heels of his dress shoes clanking against the floor of the coffee shop. You reign in the surprised look that threatens to overtake your face – because goddamn, the man is gorgeous – as you greet him, “Good morning! Welcome to Moon Coffee!” 

“Good afternoon to you, too,” the man corrects you with a dimpled smile. You wince at your mistake and nod, “Right, sorry about that. What can I get started for you?” You force a smile that you hope is friendly enough onto your face, gesturing to the large menu boards above you, “Please, take your time.” 

As the man busies his eyes with the plentiful options displayed on the boards, you busy yourself with questioning what a fancy ass man like him was doing at the campus coffee shop. His hair was long, brown ends curling around his neck and as he ran a hand through it, deep in thought, you could essentially smell how rich he was. 

“The hazelnut mocha sounds like it’s good but also really sweet,” he comments, looking at you for a second opinion. 

“Right, it’s one of our best-sellers! And it is on the sweeter side because of the chocolate in it, but you could balance it out with a double-shot?” you suggest and then, “Otherwise, our classic mochas are not as sweet.” 

The man nods with a slight smile, “Hmm, I like the sound of the first option. I’ll have that, please.” 

“Is that an iced hazelnut mocha with a double-shot for you?” you ask with a smile. When he nods, you punch in his order, “Can I get a name for the drink?”

“Seungcheol.”

“All right, thank you very much. That’ll take just a few minutes. You’re welcome to take a seat and wait.” He nods as he walks to one of the tables next to the window.

Joshua’s already getting to work with Seungcheol’s drink and you take a moment to rest your back against the counter, throwing a glance or two at the new (and gorgeous) face in town. But thankfully for this rich stranger, today is the day you don’t have the energy to go down a rabbit hole trying to find an explanation for his presence. Instead you wave him a good day as he leaves with a satisfied smile on his face and an iced mocha in his hand. 

Maybe this job wasn’t so bad after all. 

A week later has you eating your words. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that Thursday afternoons are the busiest times of your shift at Moon Coffee. Most students were either rushing to down caffeine to finish some daunting assignment due at the end of the week or otherwise, others would be early in celebrating the fast-approaching weekend. The first kind you can deal with: they’re easy to relate to and they don’t really care if your customer service is the bare minimum from how tired you are. 

But the second kind? You wish you could be granted with some kind of powers that would take away any more weekends from the rest of their lives. If the way they strolled in grinning and took their time with the menu didn’t have you fuming, their inane but obnoxious questions about your life would have you at the edge of your temper every week. You were only thankful you didn’t have to work the Friday crowds or you’d actually be declared a public threat. 

But today, unfortunately for you, Jeonghan’s decided to make a visit to the cafe and if the fact that he’s not even a student anymore wasn’t enough, he was celebrating his birthday week. Which meant he was even worse than in exhibiting his usual infuriating customer behavior. But annoying customer or not, Jeonghan was also the guy you’ve harbored feelings for since two years ago now. 

So when he strolls up to the counter with Seungcheol, the polite rich man from last week, by his side, you have more than one reason to stare at them dumbfounded. 

“Oh, hey, it’s you!” Seungcheol starts, eyes trailing to the name on your tag, “Y/N!”

Jeonghan shoots you a confused look and then elbows Seunghceol, “Don’t even pretend that you know her. I totally caught you looking at her name tag. Have a little shame, Cheol.”

You clear your throat, “Um, good afternoon and welcome to Moon Coffee! What can I get started for you?” You punctuate the question with a smile that you hope screams please order fast and get out of here! 

But Jeonghan evidently has long missed the memo when he pokes Seungcheol again, “You know sometimes I come here just so I can see Y/N smiling. She never smiles off the clock. It’s truly devastating.” 

Seungcheol looks amused, “Is that so? I mean, fair enough. With a smile like that, you ought to be paid to show it.”

You cough into your palm, caught off-guard but quick to conceal the shy grin that’s crept up your face. You pray that the heat in your neck doesn’t climb up to show on your face. “Will you be ordering the same as last week? Iced hazelnut mocha with a double-shot?”

Seungcheol’s face lights up a little at your recognition but Jeonghan’s quickly butting in with an affronted expression, “Oh, so you recognize this man who’s been here once, but not your close friend of a long long time? Do you even know how much money I’ve spent on the seasonal lattes here?”

You sport a sly smile, “Right, thank you for enjoying our seasonal menu of beverages. We hope you continue to love the upcoming drinks. Feel free to leave any feedback or suggestions here!” You hand him a brand-new index card and gesture at a drop-box next to your monitor.

Seungcheol cackles at the defeated look on Jeonghan’s face and grins as he says, “You know what, I think I’ll get the same mocha again, Y/N. It did wonders for my mood.” You find yourself grinning almost immediately, tapping in his order with a hum. 

“And for you?” 

“...”

You know Jeonghan’s scheming something but you can’t afford to let him play out whatever sick mind games he’s planned out at your workplace so you’re quick to appease him, “If I might, I suggest you go for the salted caramel brownie latte. It’s perfect for this weather and it tastes suspiciously like birthday cake.” 

Jeonghan can’t help a smile at your words, rolling his eyes a little, “Fine. That does sound tempting. I’ll have one of those, but only if I get a personalized note from you wishing me a very very happy birthday.” 

You contain a scoff, “Of course.” You nod, “Thankfully for the line behind you, I already have your names down. Please step aside while we prepare your drinks. Thank you.” 

– 

“She’s hilarious,” chuckles Seungcheol, bumping shoulders with Jeonghan as they settle into his car. “Didn’t think I would witness Yoon Jeonghan’s downfall in a random college cafe.”

Jeonghan scoffs, “I think you’re too happy about this. Plus, my downfall started a long time ago when I stopped cheating in board games.” He takes a sip of his latte, “Fuck, this does taste like cake. What the fuck?”

Despite his words, Jeonghan smiles when he sees the note you promised him:

jeonghan – happy birthday week, u weird old man! please invite me to ur birthday party so i can give u the best gift of ur life and maybe also stick ur head in cake :) lots of love, y/n. 

“She’s in her senior year, you said?”

Jeonghan looks up with a nod, “Yeah, I met her through Wonwoo, back when we shared a class in college. And then when I graduated and settled here, I’d invite them to get-togethers because I know how miserable the nightlife on this campus is.” 

“Wow, look at you, such an admirable role model,” Seungcheol jokes, “And Wonwoo? Was he the glasses guy who you FaceTimed this morning? He seemed… cool, I guess.”

Jeonghan shrugs with a shoulder, “He’s a piece of work, alright. But that explains why he and Y/N are inseparable. Anyway, you’ll meet the rest of the crew later tonight. Thursday night is board game night.” 

‘Board Game Night’ was a very, very loose term for the weekly gathering at Jeonghan’s place – it was a mix of Jeonghan’s friends, namely Dokyeom and Woozi, from work doing karaoke, his tired college friends (aka your friend group) lounging around on their phones, and maybe a group of two to three actually playing board games. 

Tonight is slightly different, though, because the alcohol that Jeonghan otherwise wisely guards most weeks has made its presence known to everyone, the fancy bar table propped in a corner of his living room finally finding meaning. 

You make it to his place, around thirty minutes past the usual starting time, exhausted from another soul-sucking shift at your job. You’d planned to sit on Jeonghan’s couch and binge-watch some mindless TV show but you’re thrown off when a reddened Seungcheol answers the door. 

“Y/N! You’re late,” he exclaims. His speech is normal, thankfully but as you step in to take in the rest of the people, you look back at Seungcheol, eyes doubtful. 

“I did not know my night was going to involve babysitting a bunch of drunk old men,” you mutter, not quite meaning for Seungcheol to catch your words. But he does and chuckles, hand at your elbow as he steers you to the bar. 

“C’mon, you don’t have to babysit anyone. I’ve got it under control. Now, let me pour you a drink. What can I get for you?” 

You watch the tall man with a skeptical smile, a little flustered because he’s standing close enough that you can feel him hard bicep against you and a little bit amused because well, this was new. It’d been a while since you’d been flustered around a man other than Yoon Jeonghan. 

“Oh, so you’re making me a drink now?” you ask, “How did you even convince Jeonghan to let out the alcohol? You must have some special powers over him for this to happen.” 

Before Seungcheol can supply a reason, Jeonghan appears behind the bar counter, smirking, “Ha! You think I’d let this coward dictate my actions? Nope, this was completely my decision. I couldn’t let the week of my birthday be dry! That’d be such a shame.” 

“You’re funny, Han,” you mumble, turning to him with a quirked brow, “How many drinks are you down?” 

He waves your concern away, “Shut up. I’m older than you, I don’t need you fussing after me. Now, get yourself a drink before I get mad.”

You raise your hands in surrender, “Sure, wouldn’t want the birthday boy to be made at me.”

“So what will it be? Do you want a beer? Or maybe a good old rum and coke?” Seungcheol offers, eyes already searching for the ingredients. 

You narrow your eyes at him, “I think I’ll have a Scotch and Soda, please.” 

A few hours later finds you sprawled on Jeonghan’s couch, nevermind the alcohol in your system and the ruckus your friends were creating. You had engaged with their antics for an hour: playing stupid drinking games (only to get drunker by the minute because you suck at games) and retiring early. 

Jun starts to complain when you announce that you’re giving up, mainly because he’d be the next target of the crowd, but Jeonghan firmly leads you to the couch. 

“You okay?” he asks you, warm fingers steadying you by the neck. Your world spins as he becomes the focus, ironically enough. You nod as you welcome the soft couch underneath your unsteady body, “Hmm. I’m just bummed out that you didn’t help me out by cheating.” 

He laughs and the sound unsettles you with its vibrations. “I told you I don’t cheat anymore, silly. Also, I’m pretty sure you’d have lost even if I did pull out some master cheating moves.” You gasp, weakly pushing him away, “Whatever, man, I don’t need your attitude.” 

If Jeonghan’s started to genuinely get worried about you, it only gets worse when you cough into your elbow, groaning as you pull away. His hands find your neck again. You hate his touch because you lean into it so naturally, your eyes following him just like he wants. You hate the warm feeling you feel when he feels your forehead with a concerned frown. You hate how you’re practically burning at his touch because he’s a breath away and your fingers twitch in your lap from wanting to touch his hair. 

But soft like the strands that tickle your ear, Jeonghan whispers, “God, you’re burning up. Maybe you did drink too much. Fuck, let me bring you some water and then, let’s get you to sleep.”

You protest his lamely sensible plan of action but he isn’t listening as he departs, leaving you feeling cold. You wrap your arms around yourself to compensate, trying to keep an eye on Jeonghan when another tall figure encroaches your field of vision.

“Y/N?” Seungcheol calls out and for a moment, you’re unresponsive, eyes fixated on something beyond him but then you perk up in recognition, pouting as you beckon him to the couch. 

“You–!” you point at him with a squint, head working hard to recall his name, “Um, um, Cheol?” 

Seungcheol smiles at the nickname, taking a seat next to you, leaving some space but extending an arm behind you because of how you’re dangerously swinging. “Right, that is me. How are you feeling? Not too nauseous I hope?”

You shake your head, “”M fine. But tell that to Han because that weasel’s trying to make me sober up and sleep.” You breathe out a little angrily and then when the world swims around you, you lean your head against the back of the couch– that is currently occupied by Seuncheol’s arm. 

He jumps a little at the unexpected contact but steadies himself when he sees your closed eyes, your skin hot against his forearm. “Now, why would he do that? You literally just got drunk,” he tells you, trying to keep you engaged in the conversation, lest you should pass out. 

“Right?” you exclaim, opening your eyes, head still against his arm, “It’s like he’s never had fun in his life. For how much he likes to tease people, he sure is a killjoy.” 

“Ha, I’m surprised you know him so well, honestly. People usually just take him at face value and think he’s a devilish troublemaker. But god knows how mature Jeonghan is. It makes me mad sometimes.”

You giggle and Seungcheol’s stomach swims at how he can feel the sweet sound in his veins, like literally. “You get me, dude. How long have you known him?”

“Um, like, nearly ten years now? I don’t know, I kinda lost count at some point.” 

“Wow, that’s a long time. I’ve known him for like two years?” you hum. “Yeah, he told me.” 

You quirk a brow at that, lifting your head up in amusement. “You two been talking about me? What did he say? That I’m Wonwoo’s evil twin?” 

“Hmm, yeah, something along the lines of that.” 

Jeonghan’s back by your side, suddenly, his strong grip straightening you up and holding up a glass of water. His expression is stoic as hell for a board game night and you don’t know if you feel scolded or cared for. It’s always hard to tell with him. 

You stare at him blankly, not drinking the water like he wants you to. Instead you turn to Seungcheol, “I don’t want to.” 

Your plea is unreasonable, you and Seungcheol both know, and he can practically feel Jeonghan’s glare when you ask Seungcheol, “Cheol, can you tell him I’m not dying? I don’t need to be babied.” 

“Yeah, you do,” Jeonghan says, touching the cold glass against your skin. You jump a little with a soft unfair! and Seungcheol sighs, “Hannie, let her be. I don’t think she wants to go to sleep yet.” 

“Thank you! At least someone has ears ‘round here!” 

Jeonghan shoots his best friend an unreadable look, still firm, “Well, she needs to drink water either way. Unless someone wants the worst hangover of their life the next morning.” This time, his unoccupied hand finds the back of your head, settling into the stray strands of your hair there. “Please, just drink this.”

You find yourself giving in, lips opening up to the glass and you swallow a few gulps of water, the cold liquid soothing your insides. Before you know it, the glass is empty. He holds it up in front of you, “See? That felt nice, didn’t it?”

There it is, again. The playful glint in his eye and the sly tone of his voice. You ignore the burning tips of your ears and give him a half-nod, throwing yourself against the couch again with a relieved sigh. “Thanks, old man! What would I do without you?” 

Jeonghan rolls his eyes as he stands up, “Ever so grateful, Y/N.”

“Y’know, Cheol and I were in the middle of a very mind-opening discussion about you.”

“Me?” his interest is piqued and he glances at Seungcheol, who he jostles lightly, “What’ve you been, shit-talking me?” 

Seungcheol laughs as he throws the man off, “Wouldn’t you like to know? Anyway, if you want to go back to your game, I have a lot of anecdotes to share with Y/N. It’s our bonding time.”

And bond, you do. You spend the rest of the night talking to Seungcheol on Jeonghan’s couch, the owner of the place long forgotten as you go on to talk about everything else: college experiences, Seungcheol’s job (“So how rich are you exactly?” you grill him), and life interests. 

“I can’t believe you like college so much! I hated it a lot back in my time.” 

You snort, “You sound really old for someone who graduated two years ago. But I mean, each to their own. I prefer the comfort of the bubble here, you know. No real responsibility most of the time and you’re allowed to make some mistakes now and then. The real world? That’s like hell. I don’t think I’m ever going to feel like an adequate adult ever. Like, tax fraud is real, you know? And I never know which law I’m going to break? Don’t even get me started about the living situation.” 

Seungcheol laughs throughout your troubled rant, “No, I get it. But don’t you feel excited about the independence you get to have? The freedom? And plus, if you get lucky with your job, working is actually very fulfilling.”

“Ugh,” you throw your head against the back of the couch again, “I don’t think I’ll ever feel fulfilled. Like ever. I feel too immature to be anything but a college student.”

He frowns on hearing that, confused because he’d never imagined of spending a whole night talking his heart out to a college student. But it happened because it was you, with your quick-witted responses and thoughtful questions. So, he’s fast to counter, “That’s not true–”

But his defense is cut short when Wonwoo approaches you, tapping at your shoulder with a smile. “Hey, you wanna head back?” You look up and are shocked to find the living room nearly emptied of its earlier occupants. When did everyone leave? “C’mon, I’ll walk you to your room. It’s getting late,” Wonwoo continues. 

“Oh, damn, I didn’t even realize,” Seungcheol mutters, looking down at the watch on his wrist. “You guys sure you want to head back this late? You could just crash here. I would offer to drive but I drank.” 

Wonwoo’s eyes trail to you, leaving the decision up to you. You mull it over, “I don’t know if Han’s gonna want a bunch of wasted kids at his place?” 

As if you’d summoned him, Jeonghan appears beside Seungcheol with a yawn, “What’s this about me? Why’re you guys still up? Come on, let me show you to the empty rooms and please go to sleep before I have to use force.” 

Wonwoo laughs, “He didn’t even leave us a choice,” and you watch as Jeonghan turns around, expecting you to follow him. 

“Jeon Wonwoo,” you turn to your best friend, “Please tell me you don’t still try to suffocate other people in their sleep?” 

The boy contains a grin, “I don’t know. It depends on how annoying the person I’m with is.”

“You’re sleeping on the floor, asshole.” 

– 

Seungcheol has a problem. 

He likes to think of himself as a reasonable adult, with the ability to make logical choices and admitting to his flaws here and there. But had he been reasonable enough, he wouldn’t be this hung up over someone he met  twice over the course of two weeks. It’s ridiculous: the way his heartbeat’s racing when you tread down to breakfast the morning after the board game night turned bonding time. 

He’s smiling his way through an excited “good morning!” before he can collect himself. You look tired, albeit a little bit lesser than usual, and your hair’s down in something of a mess. Seungcheol vaguely recognizes the faded gray tee you’re wearing, probably a donation of Jeonghan’s. “Morning,” you mumble to the breakfast table, everyone present now that you’re here.

Wonwoo snickers, “You look like shit, dude.” You glare at him as you’re reaching out for a fork, “Thanks, Wonwoo, I see that you’re as sweet as ever.” 

Jeonghan lightly slaps Wonwoo’s arm, “Be nice to her. Who knows what a hungover Y/N might do?”

You turn to Jeonghan, finally eating the piece of watermelon that you’d been reaching for, “I’m flattered you’re concerned but I’ll have you know I’m not hungover.” 

“That’s impressive,” Seungcheol chimes in and you smile at him, “See, I can’t believe this man I met last week understands me better than my best friend and my other friend.” 

“Your other friend? That’s what I am to you???” Jeonghan gasps, hand clutching his chest dramatically and Seungcheol laughs louder than he ought to, but he can barely help it, he’s all giddy. All it took was a half-compliment from you. 

So yeah, easy to say, Seungcheol has a problem and it has something to do with the way you lean into him when you ask him to pass a slice of toast. 

Luckily for Seungcheol, you also have a problem, and it occurs when you declare you need to head back, hoping that they’d let you go alone but Jeonghan’s standing up instantly with a nod. You have a problem with the way he’s unbothered with his behavior, easily saying, “I’ll walk you,” as if your best friend of years wasn’t sitting right there. 

You look to Wonwoo, hoping he’d feel the heat of your expression but he simply stretches his limbs out with a groan, “Think I’ll go take a nap before I leave.”

“Don’t you have a class at 12?” you nudge him subtly, trying to ignore Jeonghan as he stands at the table, fingers tapping at the chair that he’s behind. 

“Eh, I’m ahead of the syllabus in the class and attendance is a joke.”

You sigh in defeat and meet Jeonghan’s eyes as he lifts his lips into a smile. 

And the smile only leaves his lips once you’ve stepped out, clad in your clothes from last night again, groaning when the morning sunlight hits your eyes. “Ugh is right,” he mumbles beside you as he starts walking. 

You catch up to him, hands stuffed down your pockets, and he asks, “You have class?”

“Not really. But I do have an upcoming paper I want to finish over the weekend so I don’t perish next week.”

Jeonghan chuckles as he glances at you, “Wow, you’re still this hard-working, huh? I thought your lifestyle would’ve worn you out by now.”

“You’re one to talk about detrimental lifestyles, Han,” you scoff, “Just because you hang out with us once a week doesn’t mean we don’t know you’re overworking yourself for the rest of it.”

He’s silent for a beat and then he exhales, “Huh. I don’t know. Feels like I have the other kids fooled. It’s always you, with your smart little head and truth bombs.”

You laugh, hitting his side with your shoulder, “I’m serious, Han. Take it slow, won’t you? You’re going to end up burning yourself out to death by the time you’re 30. And then whos’ going to host board game nights?”

Jeonghan laughs and he turns to look at you, walking pace slowing down as he trains his eyes on you. You raise your brows in confusion, a slight smile playing on your lips as you try to guess what he’s thinking this time. 

“You and Cheol have been getting along really well, huh?” 

You’re thrown off guard, not having imagined this to be his next words. You shrug. “Yeah, he’s really easy to talk to, especially given his… I don’t know, social status?”

“Social status?” 

You cough in embarrassment over your words. What were you saying? “Don’t know. It’s just nice to meet someone whose hopes and dreams aren’t being crushed by student debt.”

Jeonghan’s silent again and now it’s your turn to frown because you’re wondering if you said the wrong thing. God, does he think you’re creepy for liking his childhood friend? Fucking hell. 

“I’m glad,” he says but you can sense a strain in his voice, “I was worried he’d get bored to death when he came to visit me.” 

“Ah, well. How long is he around?”

“He took a month off, I think? But he’s got it easy with his flexible hours, so really, it’s up to him when to leave.”

You nod a little, “Cool.” You exhale in relief, a little bit reassured now that Jeonghan was back to talking like his usual self. You’ve finally reached the steps to your dorm by the time the conversation fades away and he waves at you, “Better be on time tomorrow for my party. And don’t forget to bring the best gift of my life.”

You groan when he quotes your note on his coffee from a day ago, shrugging as you turn around to run up to your room and melt into your pillow. But you’ve made it to two steps up when he calls out for you again. You swerve around to face him with a questioning glance.

“Y/N, remember you can come to this old man if you ever need anything, okay? I’m here for you, always.” 

??????????

– 

Okay, let’s rewind a little. 

You’ve known Jeonghan for two years now, enough time to fall for him. You argue it was inevitable because all your life, you’d only been disappointed in your love interests, who would either ghost you in the talking stage itself or break up a few months into the relationship. One time it was because you were too busy with your studies and the third and final time because well, you were apparently too aloof. Not loving enough.

Which is why when Jeonghan came into the picture, you found yourself changing ever so slightly. Not to say you weren’t still a little bit wary of people and took your time opening up, but you met a lot of friends through him and he taught you that trust and attention goes a long way in relationships. If only you could apply this newfound knowledge to new relationships. 

You’d tried: Wonwoo had set you up with a friend from class, Mingyu, and while you’d been able to sit through the first date, by the end of the night, it was clear that both of you were more interested in sex. Which was fine. But then there was the guy who was a regular at your cafe who had given you his number and you’d ended up wondering why you were with him in the bathroom, staring at a text from Jeonghan. 

So you were down pretty bad for him. And as Wonwoo had voiced multiple times before, the next move to make was to actually tell the man that you’d been suffering in your feelings for him. But every time the topic came around, you had only one answer prepared: he already knows. Or so you’re convinced. 

You had good reason to think so. Once, the group of you had been playing an online game that involved picking red flags for other people’s ideal types and when it was time for others to pick some for you, all hell had broken loose. “I bet she likes bad guys who are emotionally unavailable,” Jun had said, quick to drag the flag that said emotional constipation on it. You had defended yourself quickly, “UH? No thanks, men with no emotional intelligence are a hard pass for me. I don’t want to feed into some idiot’s Oedipus complex just because I’m the mom friend.” 

“The mom friend?” Wonwoo had questioned, “Please, Y/N, if anything, you’re the dead friend with a severe case of RBF. Jeonghan’s the mom friend.” 

Jeonghan’s shrug had been followed by a hysterical Joshua going, “Wouldn’t that mean Y/N’s ideal type is Jeonghan? I mean, it makes a lot of sense, he’s mature and emotionally intelligent.”

You’d choked over your next words, cheeks burning, “No, that’s stupid. Don’t be weird.” 

Yeah, very weak defense. 

When Wonwoo brought up the fact that you’d refuted Joshua’s claims and that probably led Jeonghan to believe you weren’t into him, you simply told him to remind himself of what happened next. Dokyeom had laughed, “But you definitely go for older men? I can’t imagine any guy in college being too smart like that.”

You’d agreed in the end, his logic being pretty solid. You had also noticed the way Jeonghan excused himself to the kitchen with a lame excuse about bringing more snacks when there was an array of unopened chips still lying around. 

“Okay, so that’s one example, from like two months ago,” Wonwoo argues as you roll around in bed to avoid his glare, “Do you really think he remembers that incident so well?”

“Two months ago was not that long ago. And it wasn’t just this once. I’m a mess around Jeonghan.” 

“You’re a mess period,” Wonwoo casually declares and when you sit up with an unhinged jaw, he laughs, “No offense.”

“Whatever. I hate you. And I hate Jeonghan. I should just skip his birthday party or I’m just gonna make things worse for myself.”

“Right. And what about the Lego set you spent half your life savings on?”

You pause, heart skipping a beat when you remember the gift sitting on your desk, wrapped securely and the purchase of which you could only justify with the words: Yoon Jeonghan. 

“God, I must be insane. Why did I even buy that for him? He’s gonna think I’m genuinely weird. Does he even want gifts? He’s turning 25 for god’s sake.”

Wonwoo doesn’t respond so you can hear yourself and eventually, you do. Jeonghan himself had told you to be on time to his party with the gift alongside. You’re going to cry. 

“You really think I should tell him?” you ask quietly.

Your best friend nods eagerly, patting your arm through the mess of your bedsheets, “Please. It’s high time. I promise you won’t regret it.”

“Weird promise to make, but fine. I’ll do it.” 

–

The weight of your promise settles into your veins when you’ve arrived at Jeonghan’s place, self-consciously straightening out non-existent wrinkles in your dress when he comes over to greet you and Wonwoo. It doesn’t leave when he grins at you, wider than usual, and it definitely only gets worse when he accepts your gift with a low whisper that he’ll be sure to open yours first. 

You’re thankful for Seungcheol when he shows up next to you, dimples out as he compliments you in your dress and you return it with a shy smile. Half because you need a distraction and more because Seungcheol’s presence is calming, you follow him to the bar. 

“How’s your night going so far?”

“It could be better,” you mumble, eyes searching for Jeonghan and settling when he doesn’t seem to be anywhere close, “A little bit nervous.”

“Nervous?” he asks you, sliding you a drink and you smile as you take a sip: Scotch and Soda. 

“Hmm, it’s nothing honestly. A lot of work piling up as we speak,” you joke. Seungcheol’s frown melts away, “Ah, of course. Senior year must be crazy.”

The night picks it pace up thereon, with your nerves finding some peace in the buzz from alcohol and your cheeks only hurting the longer you talk to Seungcheol.There’s some dancing of course, here and there, but you find yourself avoiding Jeonghan actively, retracting from the floor whenever he’s close. 

It helps that Seungcheol stays close so that you have an excuse to appear occupied and somewhere along in the night, you tell the man with a smile, “You’re really charming, you know, Cheol?”

He breaks out into that giggle of his, “You think so? I haven’t even pulled out all the stops yet?”

“Really?” you find yourself stepping closer, encouraged by how quickly his hands are at your waist, “What haven’t you done yet?” 

A breathy hum leaves his lips at your provoking and you’re close enough to brush lips against Seungcheol when suddenly, you’re being pulled away. For a moment, you let out an annoyed groan, certain that the iron hold on your bicep is Wonwoo being stubborn again. So when you tilt your head and catch sight of Jeonghan’s black hair falling into his eyes, a glare in place, all words leave your system. 

You’re aware he’s dragging you away and also that Seungcheol’s following, reaching for your hand with words leaving his mouth, but you can’t make anything out. The blood’s in your ears and your heart is in your throat. You can feel Jeonghan saying something at Seungcheol, who glances at you in doubt, and leaves. 

By the time you've calmed down, you find yourself in Jeonghan’s room, door half closed. 

“Jeonghan?” you question a little weakly as he finally lets go of your arm and sits on the bed, his head in his hands. Is he okay? you wonder, standing helplessly near the door. You call out his name again, “Han? Are you okay?”

You step closer to him but stop when he looks up, startled by the lack of humor in his expression. “What were you doing back there?” 

“Um, talking to Cheol.” 

“Talking?” 

“Are you annoyed at me, right now? Or jealous? I can’t tell.” 

Jeonghan goes silent again, gaze dropping to his feet. You’re feeling annoyed by the minute. 

“You’re acting like an idiot, Y/N. You don’t know Seungcheol. And you’re drunk.”

There it was: that strict tone of his, that always left you feeling conflicted and hurt. Today you actually tell him about it, “I’m not a kid, Jeonghan, I know what I’m doing.” 

He looks up at you when you say that, eyes wide. “I never said that. I’m just saying that you should be more careful.”

“I am being careful,” you retort, a hostile edge to your voice, “I don’t know why you do this.”

“I thought you liked me.”

The words stun you into silence and your ears ring as you freeze. Your eyes don’t leave Jeonghan’s form though, watching him, waiting for him to disappear into nothingness as if this was just a dream. How you wish it was. 

But Jeonghan’s on his feet when he notices the horrified look on his face and it’s only when he starts to come closer that you reach for the door. 

“No, Y/N, please let’s talk about it–” he grabs hold of you and you feel your vision go blurry with tears, your back hitting the wall when Jeonghan shuts the door behind you. 

“I knew it,” you mumble out through tears, “You knew about my feelings?” 

Jeonghan’s eyes find yours in the dim lighting of his bedroom and you shiver when his hand tightens around your wrist, “I’ve known for a while. But then you went around flirting with Cheol like it was nobody’s business and I…” he trails off, “I was jealous. And confused.”

You force yourself to breathe out, heart going wild in your chest because of course, Jeonghan’s not addressing the elephant in the room. “Well, I was going to confess to you today and get it out of the way. But there’s no need anymore, I guess?” You cringe at the way you can hear the quiver in your own voice, “Just let me go now?”

“Why?” he asks, “You haven’t even asked me if I like you back?”

You scoff, “God, Jeonghan, you make it sound like we’re in high school or something, all this ‘liking’ talk.” You try to sound stable, only to be contradicted by the tears that leave your eyes, “And I figured you didn’t return my feelings. Or you would’ve done something about it.”

There’s a pause then. A shift. Jeonghan’s grip on you loosens ever so lightly and you fear you’ve understood him too well. For once, you wish you weren’t right. 

“You’re right,” Jeonghan breathes out as if on cue, but his grip is still unyielding to your dismay, “Well, I thought I didn’t like you. I mean, you’re really pretty and funny and being around doesn’t tire me out like it does with others, but… I just liked you as a friend.”

Your heart’s shriveling up at his words with uncertainty because he might be talking about your love for him being one-sided but it is also in the past tense… right? 

“What are you trying to say, Jeonghan?”

He flinches, “Um, I’m sorry. I just– I’m so confused about my feelings, right now. God, I thought I was more mature than this.” 

You can’t help the disdainful laugh that leaves your lips as you push him away, brushing your tears away with the back of your hand. “Look, Jeonghan, I’m sorry I don’t have the time to sit down and help you untangle your feelings… about me. It really hurts to hear you go on about this, honestly. I think I’m just going to leave. Happy birthday, I hope you like your gift.”

–

The night outside is much more welcoming to you now, your shoulders more relaxed than ever now that your stupid crush on Jeonghan’s out in the open for him. You hadn’t expected it to go down like this but well, at least you were right about him already knowing, you know? 

Lighter than before, the drinks you’d chugged before to gather courage catch up to you in the moment when you nearly run into a pole on the street. You would have run into it if Seungcheol hadn’t swerved you out the way with a, “Look out!”

“Fuck,” you mumble when you’re steady on your feet, Seungcheol’s hand firm around yours, “Sorry. I was in my head.”

“I know you were but you gotta watch where you’re going, kid,” he scolds, “I don’t want to have to carry your unconscious body to your room.”

You roll your eyes, “What is it with everyone and calling me a kid tonight? So much for keeping up a track record for being reliable and responsible.”

“It’s not that you’re not those things, Y/N,” Seungcheol says, hand still on yours reassuringly, “It’s just that sometimes you’re… dense. And maybe even something of an idiot.”

“Ah! Excuse me!” you protest, “I am not an idiot. Say that to my grades.”

“An idiot as in someone who doesn’t see what’s right in front of them.”

That shuts you for good, then, and you stop walking with a sigh. “I don’t even know about that, anymore.”

Seungcheol watches as you slow down, tears behind your eyes and his heart hurts for you, thanks to his problem. When he’d found you storming out of Jeonghan’s room with fists wiping your tears away, he’d wrapped an arm around you immediately, listening as you quietly told him you needed to leave. He’d offered to walk you home and you’d watched him for a moment before nodding. 

“Why are you doing this, Cheol? Shouldn’t you be back there, comforting Jeonghan?”

“See, there it is. The idiot side of you.”

You go silent again, looking down at the hand that was clutched in his a few moments ago. 

“...you like me?”

“Bingo. Plus, I don’t think Jeonghan wants to hear from me tonight. Not after I almost kissed you in front of him.”

You let out a surprised sound, hand flying to your mouth when you recall the near-kiss, ears turning impossibly pink under the streetlights. “Fuck, I forgot that happened. I’m sorry? Or you’re welcome?”

“Nah, I can’t thank you till we actually seal the deal,” Seungcheol teases, stepping closer to you and dramatically ducking his head as if going in for a kiss. You push his shoulder away, “Fuck you, Seungcheol.” 

“I mean, sure, if you want to!”

“Ugh!” you start walking with a pout on your face, “I hate the guts of the men in this place!”

“That’s not what your face said thirty minutes ago at the bar!”

“Go away, Cheol, or I’m reporting you to the campus authorities.”

“Aww, you called me Cheol even when we’re fighting. Aren’t you the sweetest?”

– 

When Monday rolls around, you think you’ve got a good hold on your head this time, especially after a few grueling hours at your shift at the cafe. That is until you spot Jeonghan walking in, hair tied back in a half-ponytail and hands crossed across his white cardigan. The sight of him sends you into a frenzy and you debate your options as being between: ducking behind the counter and switching positions with Joshua, or otherwise, manning up and facing the aftermath of your actions. 

You glance at Joshua’s back, his hands busy cleaning the espresso equipment and before you have a minute to ask him to switch, Jeonghan’s at the counter (where’s a line of customers when you need it?), calling you out. “Hey, Y/N, do you think we could talk for a minute?”

You look at him blankly, not expecting him to take the direct route after everything. But you malfunction a little and cut his advances off, “Welcome to Moon Coffee! What can I get started for you?” you ask loudly and then add in a softer voice, “Conversation with me is not on the menu.” 

“Hm?” Jeonghan looks devastated at your cold response but his eyes search the menu board frantically anyway, “Uh, I guess I could get just an iced americano, then, please?” 

You note that down with a half-smile, and almost go on to ask for a name for the order but decide against it, not wanting to stretch your pettiness limit for the day. “Alright, thank you for your order! Please feel free to take a seat while you wait.” 

You relax when he nods with a hesitant smile and takes a seat, close to the window but close enough to the counter to hear his name being called out. You feel the pit in your stomach burn a little at how deflated his shoulders are and you wonder if you ought to drop the act; you’d been into the man for two years now. Right?

But before you can pursue this heart-wrenching line of thought, you’re distracted by the sound of the door opening and– great, it’s Seungcheol. By the surprised look he shoots Jeonghan’s sat figure, they hadn’t planned this… ambush, but you reign in your usual cordiality anyway as Seungcheol approaches you. 

“Hey there, morning. How’ve you been?” 

What did you have to do to have one customer who came in here for coffee?

“Good afternoon,” you correct him, pleased at the reversal of your first meeting with Seungcheol, who chuckles a little. “Welcome, what can we get you today?” 

He pauses, casting a glance to Jeonghan over his shoulder, whose attention is on this interaction, legs crossed and brows furrowed. “I’m sorry, didn’t know he was in here. I just wanted to check up on you.”

“What are you apologizing for?” The question slips before you can remember to be professional and also, a little bit quieter because almost certain that Jeonghan’s heard you by the way he averts his eyes. “Um, I mean, sorry. I can recommend you a drink for the day or do you want to get your usual?”

Seungcheol mulls it over, “Hm, I’m fine with anything you choose for me.”

You pause before punching in the order for a hazelnut mocha, without a double-shot this time. He can deal with the sweetness for a day, you reckon. You glance at Joshua who’s still cleaning up before getting started on the orders because well, it’s a slow day. Or it’s supposed to be.

As you thank Seungcheol for his order and he’s about to step aside to wait, you add in a quick, “And next time, if you want to check up on me, do it when I’m not working.” He does nothing to hide the grin of acknowledgment that takes over his face, a sight that only darkens the storm known as Yoon Jeonghan brewing in the cafe.

You walk over to Joshua, “Dude! Hurry up, we have customers waiting.”

He turns to you slowly, wiping his hands off ever so slowly, even the smile on his face slow. “Don’t worry, it’s just Jeonghan. We know these guys. We can take our time.”

You narrow your eyes at him, wondering if Jeonghan put him up to this act, but don’t question it because even that would be admitting defeat. “Whatever. I’ll make the drinks if you’re going to be annoying. Where’s the syrup for the mocha again?”

Joshua slaps the hand that you’re using to reach for the syrup with a firm, “Uh-uh! Hands off, young lady. That hazelnut mocha is all mine to make. You can work on the iced americano if you really want to help out.”

You groan, throwing your hands up, “So you were slowing things down on purpose, you little bitch.”

“Hello? Please be mindful of the language you use around here. I can report you–”

“Yes, yes, of course, I will just shut up and make that americano so I don’t have to listen to your voice again.” 

A  few minutes later, you’re scribbling Jeonghan’s name onto the cup, proud with the quick work you’ve made of the drink and also thankful nobody was coming in right now. “Han–” you stop yourself just as the nickname slips your tongue, flinching when you remember you’re supposed to be acting stuck up right now.

You turn, hoping that Jeonghan hadn’t heard you but nevermind that because he’s at your side, quicker than he ought to be really (any other scenario, he would be declaring all kinds of knee problems), that sly grin plastered on his face. 

“Hi there,” he greets you, “Called for me, did you?”

“...I did. An iced americano for Jeonghan.” You try hard to make your sentences brief but Jeonghan’s chuckling as he takes the drink from you– using both his hands so that you’re brushing against his. Classic middle school boy behavior. 

If anything, this ordeal was making you question if the man was as mature as you’d believed. Either way, he thanks you with a smile and leaves promptly, leaving a very affronted Seungcheol in his wake. “Hey, I thought you said you were gonna wait for me!” he calls out after Jeonghan, who doesn’t respond as he slides out. 

“A hazelnut mocha for Seung…Cheol?”

You glare at Joshua who frowns at the name as that was the first he’d heard of it, and the guy just shrugs as he puts the drink down. “Sorry about that. Joshua’s feeling rebellious this afternoon,” you tell a frowny Seungcheol (you are a minute away from admitting how cute he is when he’s upset), “Anyway, here’s your drink, Seungcheol. Have a good day!”

“Cheol!” you call out when you spot the brown head of hair outside the cafe when your shift ends. He’d texted you a while after he’d walked off with his drink in hand, pouting because you insisted on calling him Seungcheol. 

meet me after your shift? his text reads. 

do u even know when my shift ends dude 

no and thats why im asking u. when does your shift end?

… u are insufferable. 

insufferable enough to fall 4 u i guess 

when are u going to stop holding your feelings for me over my head?

when you do something about them.

meet me at 6 outside the cafe. 

Yeah, so you wouldn’t say you’re being your wisest self right now. To begin with, you should probably seek out Jeonghan and find closure of some sort. But something tells you to wait on him, wait till he’s ready to seek you out (no, coming up to you during your work shift did not count). Instead, you choose to pursue the… spark that you have with Seungcheol, his feelings for you aside. The night after Jeonghan’s party he’d made it clear that he didn’t really want anything serious, just to get to know you more while you were still around.

A little fooling around never hurt anyone, right? 

So when Seungcheol whines out, “Oh, so I’m back to being Cheol now, huh?” you finally let out the laugh that you’d held back at work at his antics. 

“Nobody ever told me you were such a pouty baby,” you tell him, eyes shameless trained on his pink lips. 

“I don’t pout for anyone, baby,” Seungcheol shoots back, hand on your back as he leads you somewhere. You look at him in question. “What? We’re getting dinner.”

“I was not aware,” you reply, “But all right. Let’s do it.”

Dinner is comfortable. Which is more than you ask for on a date these days. 

“Your dates have really been that bad, huh?” Seungcheol asks you. You shake your head, fork scraping some tiramisu onto it, “You can’t even imagine it, Cheol, it’s hell out there. I’m lucky if the guy pays for the dinner so I don’t have to work an extra shift to make up for it.”

He laughs and you savor the sight, because hanging out with this often hadn’t meant you had become indifferent to his looks. If anything, it was the other way around. 

“Thanks for dinner,” you tell him later as he sneaks his hand into yours. You allow yourself to feel guilty for indulging him like this but then he squeezes your hand, “Anything for you, m’lady.”

Later that night, you invite him to your room. “It’s not much,” you add to the invitation, “But you know, I do happen to have some wine in my fridge that Wonwoo forgot to pick up. And my bed’s pretty cozy to watch movies in.”

Seungcheol is breathless by the time you’re in your room, not only because of the trek up the stairs but also the fact that you’d held his hand in yours the whole way up. “Wow, it sure is cold in here,” he comments as you turn the lights. It is the textbook college room, albeit a little bigger since you’re in a single. 

You cough, “Um, sorry about that. Let me turn on the heater. And you can sit on my bed…” you pause when you remember the mess you’d left on your mattress this morning, in a hurry to make it to your shift but nevertheless, insistent on putting together a fit. 

You sweep up the pile of discarded clothes from your bed and onto an already burdened chair, making a show out of it. You dust your hands off with a smile at Seungcheol who’s been watching with a hand on his hip. “Change your mind about me yet?” you question, teasingly. 

He rolls his eyes as he walks closer to you, effectively bumping you onto your bed, the new angle forcing you to look up at him. He kneels in front of you, his smile turning loving as he takes your face into his hands. “Not a chance,” and then he leans in until his warm lips are on yours, the heater whirring irrelevant now that heat’s rushing up to your temples instantly. 

You taste him and then pull away, “Mhm. Not so fast, you sly little man. I promised you wine and a movie in my bed. And I,” you say as you crouch in front of your fridge, “am a woman of my word.” You shake the cold bottle of red wine at him and he grins. 

An hour later, you’re curled around Seungcheol, glasses of wine long consumed and movie long forgotten in favor of cuddling. You stare at him and then when he smiles shyly, you finger one of his dimples, “Hey. You sure you’re not serious about me? Because I’m…” you hate the way you trail off, the very thought of Jeonghan derailing any sense of coherence you’ve ever had. 

“I know,” Seungcheol’s hand comes to your wrist, “I knew I didn’t stand a chance against Jeonghan since I saw you guys fight at the cafe that day. You look at him like he has all the answers.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you brush off, not completely refuting him. “But if you knew, why’d you stick around and… I don’t know, flirt with me?”

Seungcheol laughs into your neck, “Call it a bad habit of mine.” His hands play with your hair now,  brushing it away from your face, “I see a pretty girl and I have to charm her.”

You drop your head into his chest with a groan, “Stop! You sound so creepy. Like a predator.”

“Hey!” he protests, his chuckles vibrating through you, “You’re the one who called me charming the other day!” 

“Hmm. I guess I did.” 

His hands slowly pry you away from his chest and to his face, lips pressing against yours. You smile a little and then open up for him, shifting until you’re situated on top of him. You close your eyes, surrendering yourself to the kiss and – “Shit, you’re a good kisser.” The man underneath you moves you closer with a pleased smirk, voice smug when his lips trail down your neck, “That’s not the only thing I’m good at.” 

– 

“Sex with older men really is different, huh?” 

You gasp at Wonwoo’s vulgar words, slapping his arm mercilessly making him jump away from you. “Dude! Mind keeping it down? We’re in the library, not your mom’s house.” 

“Ha! Jokes on you, I wouldn’t be making dirty jokes in my mom’s house because Jeonghan is my mom away from home and he would really kick my ass if he heard me talk about you and Seungchel fucking–”

Another slap on the arm and Wonwoo shuts up, groaning in pain. You grimace when you notice a few heads turning your way at the commotion, and bow in apology. When they’re looking away, you glower at Wonwoo, “Seriously, man, what are you up to? Drop the horny teenager act for once so we can focus on the problem at hand.” 

“Judging from the tone of your voice, I’m guessing that you’re not talking about the problem of calculus in front of us, but rather, the problem of… life?” 

You stare at Wonwoo blankly, “I’m so glad you find this entertaining.” As you’re about to continue giving him a piece of your mind, your phone buzzes, cutting you off much to Wonwoo’s relief, who sneaks a look over your shoulder anyway.

cheol: rate last night on a scale of ‘okay’ to ‘let's meet up again tonight’?

You scoff at the audacity and Wonwoo’s already clinging onto this new piece of evidence. “Oh, so what was that about this being a one-time thing? Next thing I know you’re moving in with him when you graduate.”

You slam your phone face down, “Listen, I know you think this is a joke but it’s not. I’m not going to sleep with Cheol again because that’s obviously the right thing to do. But as for Jeonghan, well, it’s been radio silence from him all week.”

“And since when have you let Jeonghan take the lead on your relationship with him? You know he’s a working man so I’m not surprised he’s not texting you at noon on a Wednesday.”

You glare at Wonwoo, “Seungcheol is also very much a working man? I don’t see your point. And also, I don’t know when this became a competition between the two?”

“Since you confessed to one and then slept with the other?”

You exhale heavily, unable to shoot him down because he was at least a little bit correct. Instead you heave your head into your arms. “Maybe I should just fake my death and move away.”

“You’ll give up your dreams of graduation over a stupid love triangle, consisting purely of men?”

“Shit. You’re right. That’s not happening,” you look up, “Jeon Wonwoo, what would I do if you weren’t by my side bringing me to my senses? You’re the best friend I ever had.”

“Actually, your use of ‘friend’ is very offensive to me,” he complains, fisting his palm dramatically, “I consider myself one of the girls. Or even better, your guardian. Refer to me as Your Highness exclusively or I will not listen.”

You stand up with a screech of your chair, “Okay, that was the last of your reasonable thinking. I’m going to go to my shift and work until I can no longer think or pine.”

“Great plan, young one!”

“Touch grass while I’m gone and you might have hope yet.” 

– 

“Look, I really don’t think we should be doing this anymore.”

Seungcheol laughs, eyes searching your face for signs of humor. You flash him a grimace of seriousness and doom. He deflates. “I saw this coming. Should’ve known you would only ever ask me out to a fancy restaurant for dinner to break up with me.”

You flick his forehead, “Break up? Don’t call it that. It gives people the wrong idea.”

“Interesting, Y/N L/N admits to caring about whether or not people get the wrong idea about us. Very interesting,” he comments, not at all sneaky with the way his arm snakes around you, “Anyway, you want me to pay for dinner and what, drag my sorry ass back to Jeonghan’s place?” 

You stiffen at the mention of Jeonghan and then sigh, the following conversation almost inevitable given your current situation. “So speaking of Jeonghan, has he been talking?”

“Um, yeah, he sure has been opening his mouth and saying words.”

“Fuck you, I meant as in, about me? Has he said anything?”

“Not in specific. Although he did inquire if I had slept over at your place two nights ago and when I said yes, he threw a slice of half-eaten apple in my face. Since then whenever I see him, I duck.”

“That’s very funny.”

“Don’t worry, I made sure to tell him how hopelessly in love with him you are–”

“That was not needed.”

“–And how you accidentally moaned his name on my cock.” 

You glare at him, “What about those statements made you think they were okay to voice out loud, not only once but twice?” 

As Seungcheol comes up with a witty defense for his lapse in judgment, your phone buzzes next to your thigh and the name that pops up has you zoning everything out instantly. 

han: hey, can we talk? 

You look away from the screen and breathe out, “And that makes two of us dragging our sorry asses to Jeonghan’s place.” 

When you knock on his door, the last thing you expect to see is a red-eyed, very sniffly Jeonghan. Heck, you hadn’t ever even come close to imagining the heartbroken look on Jeonghan’s face, his eyes downcast when you visibly look taken aback at his state. 

“Han?” 

“Hey,” his voice is hoarse and good lord, you can’t stand this. “Let’s sit in the living room. I was going to go grab some water anyway.”

You follow him speechlessly, watching the way his hands disappear into the sleeves of the black sweatshirt that hangs loose around his frame. You keep watching when he reappears, and it’s when he sits down quietly, fingers whitening around the glass of iced water in hands that you lose it. 

“Talk to me, Han. Are you okay?” you breathe deeply to contain the multitude of concerned questions that threaten to leave your system. For one, you didn't know how to interpret the crestfallen expression he held up when he met your eyes. While someone like Wonwoo (aka a naive little kid) would argue that the only reasonable explanation for it would be that he was devastated that you’d been avoiding him the past week. But knowing what you did about him, you couldn’t let go of the possibility that he was just mourning the impending loss of a friend, i.e. you, when he breaks it to you that he doesn’t like you back. 

Jeonghan senses you’re in your head when you’ve been staring at him for a moment too long, mouth agape, so he moves closer, taking the water out of your hands and placing it next to his emptied glass. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Fuck. An apology? 

You stammer, “S-Sorry? Why?”

“I’m sorry I called you an idiot the other day. You’re the farthest thing from an idiot– and you’re definitely not a kid. I’m so sorry that I made you feel like that. I just… I’ve been thinking about us, and I realized that somewhere along the way, I became really over-protective of you. I started treating you like you were fragile or something, and I shouldn’t have.” 

“I’m listening,” you tell him, frown letting up now that he’s finally speaking up.

“And I’m sorry for being a cowardly little bitch about my feelings for you,” he mumbles, eyes dropping to your lap where your fingers play with the fabric of your shirt uneasily. He stops your fiddling, his hands coming to envelope both of yours. “I’m the idiot for thinking I could be anything other than in love with you.”

“Huh,” you exhale again, biting your lip to hold the smile that threatens to spill. 

“And finally, I’m sorry for not doing anything about it when I knew your feelings were mutual. As you know, I’m getting old and–” 

You stop any further stupidity from leaving his lips by – you guessed it – by pressing your lips against them. He lets out a surprised gasp and your smile finally turns into a giggle when his hands tighten around yours in your lap.

You pull away, only to detach your hands so you can bury them in his hair instead and Jeonghan smiles at you, his eyes crescents as they watch you lovingly and you think: the pain was worth it. 

Jeonghan’s smile widens when he feels you thumb at his skin, tenderly tracing his eye-bags. 

“You look terrible, Han, I’m sorry,” you mutter, kissing his cheeks and then his forehead. He’s already mellowing under your hold and he hums, low, “You should be. I went to hell and back when Seungcheol announced he slept with you. I mean, what were you thinking?”

You break, guiltily looking away. “That was not my smartest moment but I was also very distraught about my relationship with a certain someone who wouldn’t contact me outside of my working hours.” 

“You and your stubborn need to remain professional. Y/N, it’s a campus cafe, I don’t think anyone’s going to care if you break your act once in a while. I don’t know, if I don’t get a kiss the next time I visit you– I might just rethink this.”

You scoff in disbelief, “You’re a real pain in the ass, Jeonghan. Maybe I’ll just go back to my room and cry myself to sleep.” But as soon as you make moves to stand up, Jeonghan’s bringing you back to sit, taking the chance to pull you closer into a hug. “You will do no such thing.” 

You freeze when you feel his nose settle into your shoulder, warm breaths relaxing when your hands reclaim their place in his hair. “I love you, Y/N.”

A beat passes and with a kiss to his head, you return, “I probably love you more, old man.”

“If we’re going to date, that nickname has got to go!” 

“What? You’re the one who was complaining about your knee problems last week. It’s fine, I can add this relationship to my list of community service activities.” 

Jeonghan pulls away, standing up abruptly and jerking you upward as well. Your smile falters but then, he’s steering you to his bedroom, throwing the door shut with a grunt. You side-eye him, “What’s up–” He cuts you off, lips hot against yours.

A few minutes later, when his tongue finally lets up, he mutters, “I just remembered that you kissed Seungcheol with this mouth. I’ve gotta do everything I can to erase that memory.”

“I can’t tell if you want me to forget… or yourself.” 

“Shh, I bet he couldn’t even– Wait, why aren’t you wearing a bra? Don’t tell me you were–!”

“You sure love asking questions, old man,” you whine and before Jeonghan can question you further, you take ahold of his hand, sliding it over your stomach and down the waistband of your jeans, the space tight and hot but not as hot as the groan Jeonghan lets out when he feels you. “Holy fuck, you’re wet.”

You grin when he falls to his knees, your jeans unbuttoned and pulled down in next to no time. “There’s more where that came from,” you mumble before he’s between your thighs, ripping out  scream after scream from your throat. 

– 

Genuinely and honestly, if you’d foreseen waking up in Jeonghan’s bed, his hair a mess from last night but face comfortably snuggled in your arm– you would’ve been less mean to Wonwoo. Because it turns out that his voice (of reason? or of deviance? you would never figure it out) in your head had been right: Jeonghan did return your feelings all those times you thought he might.

He tells you all about it when you’ve collapsed later that night, replacing the curses on your lips with dampness in your eyes because of how vulnerable he is, pouring his heart out to you like this.

Propped up on an elbow, he played with your hand, “I remember when you first came over with Wonwoo. I thought I’d met myself, but younger and prettier and sillier.”

“I hate it when you combine insults with compliments so I can’t attack you.”

“I learnt that from you, silly,” he kisses your nose but continues, “But honestly, the more we talked, the more I realized how different you are from me. I mean, sure, are you tired out of your mind half the time like me? Yeah. But you were so observant and so keen on getting to know people. It’s hard to come across people who are invested in friendships for more than just small talk and someone to have meals with.”

But just as he’s getting deep on you, he adds, “Plus, you smell a whole lot better than anyone else. I’d go crazy sitting next to you, especially because you just love to throw yourself at people in laughter.” 

“Not that I’m complaining–” he stops your protests quickly, “I swear my heart would skip a beat everytime you laughed at something I said. And then the time we were talking about ideal types and you got all flustered over everyone teasing you about me? Dude, I had to run to the kitchen before I could do something rash. Like kissing you in front of everyone. Or worse, bride-style carrying you into my room so I could enjoy the adorably lovesick look on your face.” 

You groan into his pillow, “Stooop. This is just embarrassing for me. It’s not like I was trying to be obvious.”

“I know, baby,” he coos, gentle hands prying you away from the pillow, “But you know, you have the same look on your face right now.” He laughs, kissing the pout off your lips with a sweet, “For what it’s worth, I was yours for a long time. Just took a minute for me to realize it.”

You huff but smile despite it and pull him closer, “I’m glad. Now hold me to sleep or I’m gonna be sad.”

Another laugh reverberates through the two of you when he slides down, pulling the sheets closer over you, and pats your back as you settle into him with a satisfied sigh. “Sleep well, my love.” 

–

“And when I’m gone, please don’t stop eating breakfast in the morning. I know you think that it’s consequential to your life completely,” Seungcheol pauses for dramatic effect, “but it’s important. It could be the difference between living 20 less years or 50 more.”

“How scientifically true is that?” you mumble to Jeonghan under your breath, who being the devious little brat he is voices your concern, earning you a look from Seungcheol.

“Whatever, I knew my words were undervalued in this household ever since you guys started dating and refused to keep it down at night. Like, it’s not that hard, right?”

You punch Jeonghan’s arm to both keep him from telling the dick joke he’s about to say and also, to show Seungcheol that you wanted no part in this. “I told this guy to keep you in mind but that just made him mad which in turn led to… screaming. Sorry.”

Seungcheol sighs as he glances at his watch, “Okay, okay. I have to get going now so bring in whatever last-minute reconciliations you two have for me.”

Jeonghan steps forward and hugs the man, surprising both the latter and you. But you watch with a pleased smile playing on your lips, relieved that their friendship still seemed to go strong, bumps and all. When it’s your turn to hug Seungcheol, you scoff at the hesitant look he casts at your boyfriend and wrap your arms around his middle. 

“Thanks for everything, Cheol. Keep in touch. And do something about this second-lead syndrome of yours. I better catch you in a happily stable relationship of your own next time around.”

Seungcheol chuckles quietly, waiting for you to pull away to say, “If that’s an order from the main female lead, then I guess I have no choice, do I? Unless,” his eyes mischievously stray to Jeonghan who already knows what’s coming next, “the male lead fucks up and leaves a certain pretty girl single, huh?”

You don’t have time to decipher if that’s a threat wrapped up in a punchline because Jeonghan’s arm’s around your shoulder, moving you away and besides you, he says, “You’ll be waiting all your life if you wait on me to fuck this up. Bye, Cheol, I can see that your Uber just pulled up.”

“Ha! Good one. Alright, this is goodbye for now. See y’all on my feed. Or it might be better if I don’t. Anyway, bye and don’t kill anyone.”

With Seungcheol gone, you look up at Jeonghan with a smug smirk, “Oh, so you plan on sticking around with me forever? That’s a long time, you know.”

Your boyfriend chuckles, his eyes twinkling, “Please, if I had the patience to watch you hug Seungcheol right in front of my eyes, being with you forever will be a breeze in the park. So yes, I plan to stick to you forever, like superglue.” 

“Gross, you couldn’t say something romantic like candy or syrup?”

“Sorry, babe, but I was just distracted by how all mine you are that I couldn’t think of anything else.”

“Never mind, I think it’s worse when you’re all cheesy. Go back to being gross?”

“I love you. Now, come here so I can kiss every single surface of your face. And then we can go on a walk and tell everyone who told me to give up to suck it.”

You lose balance when the laughter finally escapes your mouth but thankfully, Jeonghan’s arms are around you, promising and playful when you meet his eyes. “Ugh, whatever. I love you. So I guess we can do all the weird annoying stuff you want to do for now.”

Despite your banter though, the two of you are so happy together that you’re shocked by the picture of you with Jeonghan that Wonwoo Airdrops, after your walk. You have the dopiest smile on your face and Jeonghan’s looking at you with a cheesy grin. You hate to admit it but you do look like an “old married couple” like Wonwoo’s text teases. But for once, you give in, snuggling closer to Jeonghan’s body because well, yeah, you did plan to stick to him. Like superglue. 

– 

[dilfartist]

Obey Me Yandere Headcannons

Tw; Kidnapping, sensitive topics, Yandere behavior, Obsessive behavior, abuse, mentioned physical abuse, mentions of death, manipulation (satan).

Notes; {Brothers included in this only. No dateables.}

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!

Not proofread

Reader's description; Female/GN

Lucifer

Lucifer’s obsession starts deliberately. Compared to all his brothers, Lucifer won’t fall into obsession quickly. His obsession is similar to his coming around to the MC. It might take a few months for his obsession to kick in but it’s a good thing if you ever want a chance of escaping. Once he’s obsessed, he’ll have all eyes on you. Lucifer has his brothers wrapped around his finger, beckoning to his every call. They’ll listen to him, mainly to get him off their back.

How does the obsession start? There are a couple of reasons an obsession will start; You left back to the human world and Lucifer begins to obsess about your lack of presence. You’re spending way too much time with his brothers, which bruises his pride. Or even starting a relationship with him. Lucifer’s obsession is fueled by his possessiveness. Naturally, Lucifer is possessive over you because he’s the same way with all of his brothers.

How do the brothers react? Depending on your relationship with the brothers, they may not care much if you tell them the situation their older brother has put you in. If you don’t have the best relationships with the brothers, whether it be due to you keeping to yourself or Lucifer keeping you by his side 24/7, they’ll excuse Lucifer’s action, though they will have a bit of moral dilemma. If the brothers do care for you, following the storyline of the game, then they’re more likely to put up a fight. However, Lucifer won’t hesitate to feed them lies. Lucifer didn’t mind deceiving his brothers when it came to Belphegor, what makes you any different? Lucifer convinces all seven of his brothers, (Belphegor takes the longest to convince but even he falls for his brother's words.) Then they’ll assist their brother in keeping you in Devildom by his side.

Punishments? His darling does face punishments if they have done something wrong in his eyes. His punishments fit the crime. Minor crimes like refusing his touch for too long, fighting against him, and ignoring him, lead to him having long lectures and hanging you up, (though he won’t hang you up for ignoring his touch because he understands his behavior is hard to comply with. Even he is frustrated with himself for allowing his feelings to take over his actions.) Crimes he deems more than minor such as poisoning him, trying to convince his brothers to help you, and somehow hurting him would lead to keeping meals from you, locking you away for a while, and maybe even a few slaps, though these slaps are usually on your ass. Severe crimes like attempting to kill any of his younger brothers or Diavalo, managing to escape him for a long period, and trying to tell Demons outside of his close circle about his obsessiveness. These crimes earn you more than just fifteen unbearable slaps on your ass; he’ll choke you and harm you in ways that might kill you. Depending on how furious you’ve managed to make him.

Aftercare? Lucifer isn’t terrible, he won’t leave you suffering no matter what you may have done. He’ll wipe your tear stains with a handkerchief, taking you into his lap, brushing your hair back with slender fingers. Lucifer will press kisses on your cheeks, chiding you softly like an owner gently scolding a pet, making sure the animal knows they still love them.

Will they kill for their darling? Yes. The only person holding him back from killing anyone who dares take your love away or insults you is Diavalo. Lucifer won’t think twice if no one is around.

Mammon

Mammon is the first to quickly fall into an obsession out of the all six brothers. In the game he's the first to fall for the Mc; So it's on brand for him to grow obsessive first. It's Mammon's trademark for being his darling's first everything. His obsession isn't clear if you do not look into it. He's still his usual tsundere self, however there's something different if you look closer. The way Mammon nearly sneers at his brothers for taking your time away from him, the way Mammon can be so overprotective it can be suffocating, and the way Mammon can sometimes be enraged by the mentioned of anyone else having you. Then again, Mammon is a demon, maybe this is normal, You think.

How does the obsession start? His greed, to put it simply. It's obvious everyone wants a piece of his human, he can't go a second without his brothers coming to steal you away from him. It angers him! Mammon should have your attention- he was your first! None of his brothers wanted anything to do with you until they realized how great you were. The great Mammon can offer you so much more! So stop hang around his brothers!

How do the brothers react? Despite the insults constantly hurriled at Mammon, his brother love him dearly. And while his darling is considered family they still won't be able to surpass Mammon's spot in their hearts. Plus, they also want Mc to stay by their side and Mammon is just keeping them in devildom, what's the harm? No matter how hard you beg you won't be able to leave. The whole family will keep you there.

Punishments? Yes and no. Mammon will give them but most of the time not go through them. His favorite punishment is the silent treatment. It never works- but at least he's managed to get better at ignoring you. The problem is you. You're so damn cute with those puppy dog eyes you give, begging for something to satisfy your boredom because he refuses to let you hangout with his brothers: he can't help but give in to your request with his attention. Mammon isn't the type to hurt his darling, not on purpose of course. Sometimes he'll lock them up but only a few hours, he wouldn't dare lock you away for a day or more.

Aftercare? Much like lucifer, Mammon will have you in his lap as he comforts you. He really hates punishing you but he won't let you walk all over him. Sometimes you need punishing.

Will they kill for their darling? Yes but not because someone simply looked your way, though he will get protective sending them a glare. He'd kill someone for hurting you, if someone insulted you he'd settle for injuring them depending on their words.

Levithan

Second to his older brother Mammon, obsesses over the reader quickly. It takes him a while to obsess over his darling; he doesn't come out of his room enough for it to happen. However, once Leviathan finally does spend some time with his darling, that is what gets the ball rolling.

Why does his obsession begin? Levi is the avatar of envy, so it’s pretty self-explanatory. Leviathan views himself as a yucky otaku, and having an angel as beautiful as his darling love someone like him is mind-boggling. Levi sees his darling interacting with his brothers or other demons, and he loathes their existence, ignoring the fact you probably spend most of your time with him: He can’t stop himself from thinking of mashing the person you’re hanging out with’s head against the wall till they no longer have a face.

How do the brothers react? Levi wouldn’t be good at hiding his yandere tendencies, leading to his brothers teasing him constantly about it. As long as Levi doesn’t harm his darling, his brothers won’t mind the way he acts (unless it gets annoying)

Punishments? No. Levi could never hurt a goddess like his darling! Harm his Henry?! Ha, no. If he were to hurt his darling it would be on accident, like his tail accidentally swiping at them when he wasn’t paying attention. The closest thing to a punishment for his darling is not talking to them for at least thirty minutes and then getting all pouty about their behavior.

Aftercare? Levi is all up on his darling, whining to them about being nicer to him. He understands he’s not the most handsome nor is he interesting- Levi is a gross gamer boy but at one point you wanted him! He can prove to you why that should still be the case!

Will he kill for his darling? Most definitely. Leviathan is easily persuaded by his envy. If another demon even thinks of insulting him to get with you, he’ll rip them to shreds.

Satan

Below Belphgor and above Lucifer on the quick to Obbsesion list. Needs time for the obsession to form, pretty normal until it finally occurs.

How does the obsession start? Satan’s obsession starts naturally, simply by getting to know you. His Yandere tendency becomes intense if he senses any romantic feelings toward Lucifer coming from you. That’s how you get a super manipulative and aggressive Satan. (His aggressiveness isn’t aimed at you all the time; we’re talking 35% of the time his aggressive attitude is aimed at you, but it’s only bits of it.)

How do his brothers react? Sceptical of his actions, but they know sometimes demons can act strange when in love. The brothers know their brother won’t hurt you on purpose, so they don’t mind it. They do get onto him now and then. As well as walking on eggshells since his wrath could go overboard when it comes to you.

Punishment? His manipulation is punishment enough, other than that enjoy the silent treatment. You may think this is a win on your part but Satan won’t let you leave. Even if you manage to keep him still with your pact, he’ll convince his brothers you’re a danger to yourself and he can help since he’s studied the human mind with his novels.

Aftercare? Asks if you’ve learned your lesson. If you say yes, you’re free to do as you please. If you say no, he’ll continue with the punishment.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus is one of the ones in the middle when it comes to how long it takes to him fall into an obsession. He’s right after Beel and Satan is after him.

How does the obsession start? His obsession begins when you grow closer to one another or funnily enough when you show no interest in him. Amso can’t stand knowing someone isn’t obsessed with him, like have you met him? He’s so wonderful! He just needs to persuade his darling by spending as much time with them as possible.

How do the brothers react? Besides being possessive of his darling at times, Asmo doesn’t show off his yandere side so his brothers don’t care much. His brothers just view his actions as being a protective boyfriend.

Punishments? Doesn't really do them. However, from time to time he’ll tie up his darling. Asmodeus will place a blanket around his darling’s body to ensure their skin won’t develop burns from the ropes; then he’ll wrap the rope around them for an hour or two. Until his darling can think about their actions. Another punishment that Asmodeus is open to is ignoring them for an hour or even a couple more if they do something he deems terrible. (Nothing’s worse than not being able to bask in Asmodeus’s glorious beauty! Ignoring you must be the worst punishment ever~)

Aftercare? Asmo will gently check his darling’s skin for any marks or bruises that the rope left. If there are any, Asmo will apply ointments while pressing soft kisses on their skin. If he goes with the ignoring method, he’ll ask if you learned your lesson, if you did then everything is back to normal.

Will he kill for his darling? Maybe. Depending on the offense. After all, he’s not ruining his skin with someone’s blood over a minor offense. Nonetheless, if anyone dares disrespect his darling he might get a little bloody. His Darling will have to praise him for it, at least!

Beel

Beel is in the upper part of the Yandere brother on how fast he becomes obsessed. He’s above Asmodeus and below Levi if we’re ranking from easily obsessed at the top and harder to make obsessed at the bottom. Beelzebub won’t notice the feeling. Beel knows he feels satisfied around you, akin to when he finishes the meals in the fridge; but he doesn't know why he keeps automatically growling at other demons who take your attention from him.

How does the obsession start? If his darling is kind to him and helps him when in need. Similar to the game. It only deepens when he and the reader are in a relationship. You said you're his so why does everyone want a piece of you? And not like you’re a slice of cake but Beel can’t handle others trying to take you from him. Beel can be very aggressive if others are too close to what’s his.

How do the brothers react? Beelzebub’s obsession isn’t a nuisance to his brothers or you (not much at least). Beel’s like a guard dog and his brothers respect him for it, although it irritates them when they just want to spend time with you, and Beel says no. Beelzebub is one of few of his brothers who, if confronted, will listen and attempt to calm his yandere tendency to keep a nice environment for everyone he loves.

Punishment? Beel doesn't do it on purpose; Unless he does, which is on occasion. Usually, he’ll act like a kicked puppy but it isn’t a manipulation tactic; he’s just genuinely upset. However, when Beel does act to punish you, he’ll lock you in his room and tell Belphgor to leave you alone until he thinks you’re ready to act right.

Aftercare? A nice snack with him holding you close. He’s really not that bad...not to you at least.

Belphgor

Belphie is above Lucifer and Satan but below Asmodeus in the list. Belphgor won’t easily become obsessed with his darling, it takes something major for him to act on his yandere tendency.

How does the obsession start? Belphgor would already have these feelings for you but wouldn’t act on them, it isn’t until you’ve been harmed or both of you fall in love, do these feelings begin to show. Slowly but surely. When his yandere tendencies take over, Belphgor can get quite aggressive with people; he’s more blatantly rude than he is aggressive. If someone were to actively try to get his darling to leave him due to his yandere behavior or attempt to flirt with them, he wouldn’t mind a lecture from Lucifer after nearly snapping the other demon’s neck.

How do the brothers react? They compare him to a Chihuahua, asking if Luke is his real brother. They say Belphie is an aggressive chihuahua, and Luke is the chihuahua that yaps all the time. Besides fighting with Belphgor to spend time with you, they don’t care much. They know Lucifer will put Belphie in his place should he ever try hurting you or the other brothers.

Punishment? Yes. Belphie doesn’t mind punishing you; however, he doesn’t harm his darling on purpose. Similar to his brothers, he’ll keep you locked away, knowing how frustrating the feeling is and knowing it’s one of the best forms of punishment, he doesn't mind going through with it. You’ll be fine if you have food and water. Plus, he’ll allow you out as long as you’ve learned your lesson and Belphie wants to cuddle up to you for a nap.

Aftercare? Belphgor will bring you to bed so he can fall asleep. He doesn't like having you away for so long, especially since he uses you to fall asleep. In a way, both of you were punished, if you think about it. Will scold you, telling you to do better next time because he doesn't mind leaving you alone longer.

[silverzoomies]

Summer Wind

tate langdon x reader smut

warnings: existential crisis, death, afterlife, implied/referenced character death, murder, angst, aged-up tate langdon, fingering, fingerfucking, kissing, canon divergence

word count: 4,690

a/n: another drabble. y'know that thing people do sometimes? where they "age-up" a character, but don't really age them up? i initially wrote this in response to that. but it somehow turned into a means of venting my existential terror instead. i was gonna include more smut. but tbh i didn't feel right about it. this one's gonna stay unfinished. sorry about the abrupt ending !!

inspired by the song summer wind by frank sinatra

You were dead for an indiscernible span of time.

You couldn't be sure how long. But you suspected a few years, at least. Through one of the top floor windows of your eternal purgatory; you watched the trees. Nature alternated between skeletal displays of branches, to vibrant arrays of color. Withered. Blooming. Withered. Blooming. Withered. Blooming again. Rinse and repeat.

Once you accepted your fate, things started clicking into place. Trapped in a vintage hotbox of murder, you put together the pieces of a long lost puzzle. And though some parts were still absent, you pushed yourself to move on. You might never figure out how you died, or who you were before. But to worry so much would be senseless at this point.

Through acceptance, you began to feel again. If only in small bursts. Abrupt, but worth cherishing.

One memory remained ever present. You had the sense you were a school guidance counselor in life. And in death, you took up the mantle again. Offering your services to the other souls lost in the house. One of the ghostly residents shared a similar occupation. Way back in his breathing years. He didn’t do it so much anymore. Instead, he spent time with his family, working towards redemption for his past actions.

You steered clear of most residents, fearful of their unpredictable episodes of bloodlust. They allowed the evil within the house to lure them further into madness. On the days they came to you for your services, you spoke to them in hopes they’d find absolution. Change in the afterlife was extremely difficult to achieve. Your 'clients' rarely ever scratched the surface of their tainted psyches. And any progress they made, they always resorted to their old habits in the end.

Only one of them ever found true change. Of course, he had to be the most wretched of them all.

You once felt sympathy for Tate, making excuses on his behalf. In the years when his heart still pumped blood through his veins; he was young. Misguided. Perhaps the pressures of his upbringing took too much of a toll on him. And in the afterlife, he suffered under the influence of the house itself. The evil buried deep within channeled through his broken soul.

But if such an evil did exist, it never took hold of you. Nor did it sink its venomous teeth into Violet, or her innocent mother, or that pure of heart baby, or even Ben Harmon himself - sinful a man as he was. They resisted, and so did you.

Tate was pure evil. Carnage incarnate. Maybe that made him susceptible to the influence of dark forces. But after talking with him for a few years, you accepted him for what he was. Foul from birth, deplorable in death. No matter how often you tried guiding him to goodness, he remained forever loathsome. The evil in him burned eternally, needing no kindling.

His own acceptance of that fact allowed him to change. In a more physical way, much like Moira. Tate embraced his fate, convinced the house was where he belonged. A punishment until the end of all things. Simultaneously, a safe haven from whatever lay in waiting after purgatory. Tate’s progress was very much real. Albeit, not the kind you aimed for.

You could see his growth in his features, rather than his morals. Sitting across from you during another weekly session, Tate fidgeted with a frayed hole in his jeans. With his blond brows creased, he stared down at the denim. As you watched him like this, you picked apart his finer details. Where his skin once beamed with the pale, ghostly image of youth; creases were now etched in. Faint, but noticeable lines curved under his eyes.

An aura of maturity emanated from him like a light much too dim. Tate carried the same mannerisms from his heyday - if one could even call it that. But he had long since graduated from his mentality of that era. Tate spoke of his past actions as if he regretted them, though you suspected he felt no real remorse. He used to cry all the time. He used to throw childish tantrums. But you couldn’t remember the last time you saw his soulless, black eyes water. Now…

He carried nothing but cold desolation. Common amongst those trapped in perpetual limbo.

“I saw her again today.” He admitted, his lidded eyes flitting up to meet yours, “She hasn’t changed any. Not like me. Not like…” Tate made a gesture at his face, his thumb grazing the angular shape of his jaw. Tiredly, he blinked, “Not like this. Fate’s a funny thing, isn’t it? I always thought we were fated to be together forever, but…”

On the sofa across from him, you kept your cheek perched in a hand. As you scribbled in your notebook, you took note of the way Tate’s features bled misery. All at the mention of her. It must have been painful for him, watching her stay the same. While he finally outgrew himself. Those changes only further separated the two of them. Obliterating any chance he had to make amends. If there ever was.

There especially wouldn’t be now. Even Tate was on the tailend of coming to terms with it.

“How’d it make you feel this time around?” You pressed in a soft tone, shifting on the couch. His dark hues zeroed in on your thighs, bare in a simple dress. The lining appeared cheap, glittering with sequins reminiscent of childhood nostalgia, “When you saw her?”

“Fuckin’...I dunno…” Tate put his face in his vascular hands, fingers curling into his hair, “She’s like a kid to me anymore. What am I supposed to think?”

“Maybe she’s content like that. In the same way you’re content the way you are now.” You shrugged, tenderly laughing, “Maybe teenage angst suits her that much.”

He shook his head, shifting from a criss cross position on the loveseat across from you. Bouncing a leg, Tate gave you a pointed look. His brows turned downward.

“We thought it fit me too, didn’t we? But look at me now."

You were. You were looking at him a lot. And he wasn't wrong. Teenage angst once paired well with Tate's immature nature. Back when he thought like a kid, and acted on impulse. These days, he'd become more lethargic. When he wasn’t consumed with blood lust. Rugged virility was his partner now. Coupled with the melancholy existentialism of a man pushing thirty.

“You wanted to move on.” You clarified, your teeth clicking the edge of a pen at your lips.

“Did I?” Tate bitterly laughed, the empty vacuums of his eyes caught your tongue in motion, “Doesn't seem like anyone else here wants to. ‘Cept Moira.”

“Well, they only think they can’t. They believe they’re tethered here, frozen in time at their moment of death. I used to think growth was impossible too. Until you…”

You took in his masculine features again. The scruff around his chin. So fair, and not too noticeable. Catching yourself in the midst of ogling him, you redirected your gaze to Tate’s eyes. Imposing. Starless. Easy to get lost in. He wasn’t ignorant to your attraction. A hint of grin pulled into his laugh lines and dimples.

“Does it scare you?” He asked, “What’s your excuse then?” Tate threw a condescending nod of his head, “If you’re so enlightened. If you know better than all of us - with your morals ‘n bullshit like that. Why haven’t you changed any since you died?"

Shrugging, you looked bashfully down at your notes.

“Why would I want to? If I can stay young for eternity. If I can keep these curves, and what’s left of my youth. What’s the point in growing older?” You admitted in truth.

“That’s a little superficial though, isn’t it?” Tate leaned back into the loveseat cushions, “Shit like that doesn’t matter here. Who are you tryna impress? And what’s anybody living gonna think? When they meet you, and find out you’re nothin’ but food for maggots now.” He teased, legs spread, one knee bouncing, “There’s gotta be another reason you haven’t moved on. You’re not like us. I dunno why you and the Harmons don’t just…y’know…go.” He trailed off, his gaze falling to his lap.

You saw his bitterness return in full force. Another miserable wave of longing washed over him. Yearning for something that didn’t exist anymore, and never would again.

“I…” You paused, doodling hasty flowers in your notebook. You avoided Tate’s eyes, “I wanna know how I died first. I wanna know who I was. Before I even consider moving on.”

Sinister acidity flashed through his vision, “Seriously? That’s what’s stopping you?” Tate huffed a harsh laugh, admitting without missing a beat, “You wanna know how you died? I’ll tell you. I stuck a knife in your back and stabbed you to death.” He confessed, monotone, “You know it too. You’ve known since we met. You’ve just been in denial this whole time.”

You sat up in an abrupt movement, scooting forward and tossing your notebook away.

“What?! What are you even talking ab-…I’ve been trying to figure this out for years, Tate! Years!” You threw out your hands, “You…you can’t be serious! Why would I be in denial about something like that??”

Tears of betrayal stung the corners of your eyes. Tate shrugged, seemingly unbothered. He crossed his arms, his eyes dark under the ridges of his brows.

“‘Cuz you feel bad for me. Or…uhm…you wanna feel bad for me.” He shrugged again, “Fuck if I know why. I’m the last guy you should have sympathy for.” Tate said, his black hues narrowing in thought.

“You didn’t…did you really stab me? Really? You’re not lying about that?” You almost shouted, clawing your fingers through your hair, “Please. Please tell me you’re lying!”

Tate appeared unfazed, ignoring you, “Do you love me or something? Is that why you’re so broken up about this?” He asked, desperate in his infinite search for validation.

“Why the fuck would you stab me?!” You shouted, full of wrathful turmoil.

You stood off the couch, surging toward him with your fists balled at your sides. Tate didn’t flinch. He pursed his lips, thoughtful again. With an insufferable aura of nonchalance, he shrugged once more.

“Wanted to.”

The blank emptiness in his expression told you everything you already knew. Tears streamed down your face, painting your cheeks and chin in damp threads.

“Where? Where did you stab me??”

Tate gestured with a nod of his head, towards the only window in the room. A summer breeze fluttered, catching the curtains in its dance. You wanted to find the radiant light of nature beautiful again. But it only served as a haunting reminder - the environment remained symbiotic with time. And you were forever left behind.

“Over there. By that window.” He said, watching you pad over to said window, the skirt of your dress fluttering.

The window. In the one room you always felt so drawn to, for reasons unknown. Now, you knew. Bracing your hands on the windowsill, you peered your head outside. Ghosting your skin, the air breathed an essence of life. Something you were no longer a part of. You used to be content with that fact. But now? Knowing your life was unfairly ripped from you, how could you ever move on? Your death wasn’t an accident. Nor had an irreversible illness seized your physical form. Just Tate.

His low voice droned from behind you and in your ear. A faint vibration followed, along with a presence at your back. You felt the soft texture of his sweater, but no body heat with it. One of his icy hands met your shoulder. He reached his other arm out. Tate pointed to a spot near the entrance gates.

“I didn’t wanna tell you. Because I didn’t wanna lose you too. But…” He paused for a beat, “It was on Halloween. Ten years or so years ago, I guess. I was gonna leave. Make my rounds. Y’know…like I used to. The house was-uh...up for grabs back then. You came up to the door. One of the kids here opened it for you. And you kinda...walked in. Tried lookin' for 'em. Wrong place, wrong time.” Tate lowered both his hands to yours, after sliding his fingers down the sides of your arms, “You were holdin’ hands with some kid the whole time. He had to be, like…seven? Eight? I don’t even remember what his costume was.” His lips curved in a grin, “But I still remember yours.”

Your fingers curled into the sill, scraping wood, indenting the paint.

Ten years.

“So, you stabbed me in front of a child?”

Another breeze blew by. The steady air picked up your dress with it, flitting delicate fabric. Glitter along the seams of it fell away, sparkling like microscopic crystallites in the wind. Tate’s long fingers drew patterns over the cold surface of your skin. Tracing infinity symbols onto your hands.

“Rapunzel.” He whispered, “That dress was kinda pretty on you. Sucks about all the blood.”

You remembered then. When death imbued you with unexpected consciousness, you wandered around the house in a blood-stained dress. And ever since, your afterlife wardrobe alternated only between dresses of similar styles. Always cheap fabrics. Decorated in craft materials. You assumed you must’ve loved playing dress up in life. The thought of perishing in a store bought Halloween costume never crossed your mind.

“Who was he?”

You sniffled, breath hitching without any need for oxygen. Tate brought a hand to your cheek, wiping away your tears. He loomed behind you. A cold-blooded apparition of your nightmares. His casual talk of violent depravity made your blood boil.

“Who, the kid?” He asked.

He lowered his hands to the sill. Looking out the window over your shoulder, Tate squinted in the sunlight.

“Yes! I don’t-” You burst into tears without warning, sobbing into your hands, “I-I don’t remember anything! Nothing! I had no idea…who was he??”

“Dunno…” he dropped his head, pressing his cheek to your hair, “I didn’t really stop to ask. He ran away. Right after I pushed you out of this window.”

“You pushed m-what?! You’re a fucking monster.” You whimpered. Wishing you could leap out and disappear with the oscillation of the wind, “You know you’re never getting out of here, don’t you? You’re never going to change, Tate. You’ll always be a monster.”

“Probably.” He droned, wrapping his arms around your middle. Pulling you closer, he added, “You’ll be stuck here too. If you don’t let go of that anger. If you let your rage consume you. All that bitterness and hatred. This house feeds off of it.” Another pause. He nuzzled the top of your head with his cheek, “Uhm…I know this won’t fix anything. But…I really am sorry I took your life from you.”

You huffed, staring teary eyed out the window. Taking in the vast, effervescent world you’d never be a part of - through the border that brought your demise.

“But I’m really stoked you’re here….’cuz it’s not as lonely with you around.” He admitted.

“I could always tell you to fuck off.” You choked, venomous in your revulsion.

“Yeah. You could. But you won’t.” He grabbed your arms with gentle hands, wheeling you around to face him. He took your tiny fingers in his palms. You refused to meet his eyes, “If you made me disappear, you wouldn’t have anybody.”

You decided to hit him where it hurt, strangling through tears, “I could always talk to Violet. She has such a good heart. Not like the rest of you. You’re all just…awful. So horrible and cruel!”

Tate clenched his jaw, dropping his forehead into yours.

“You’re right. She’s not.” He woefully mumbled, “How come I still miss her, huh? Been missin’ what we had for, like…forever. Now I’m pushin’ you away too. And you’re all I have left.”

“Maybe stop killing people, Tate?” You snuffed, tears catching your eyelashes. He wiped them away all the same, “Who knew death could be so miserable. I…I finally found out the one thing I’ve wanted to know after all these years. I thought a little closure might help me, but…” You cried, “I feel even more messed up.”

“Why? Do you love me?” He pressed with so little confidence, you felt he only said it to convince himself.

“I…” You hesitated, brows furrowed, “I cared about you. Even though you’re a lunatic. I wanted to give you a chance. But now…now I just want to shove you out this window like you did to me. I want to scream at you, Tate! I want to make you suffer! I want to-”

He shifted closer. Within this vicinity, his maturation became all the more clear. Your weeping hues glazed over the creases under his eyes. The blond bangs of his hair had thinned by a smidgen, losing its youthful shagginess. He was all fine lines and outward exhaustion. Had you met him like this in life, you’d think him a mere decade away from a mid-life crisis.

“Go ahead. If it helps. I don’t mind.” He reached down again, grabbing your hands and guiding them up to his chest, “Just let all that rage go…you can take it out on me.”

This was just another tactic of his. An attempt to appease you, in desperate hopes you’d forgive him. Still, you didn’t think twice. Whatever wrathful anguish you kept buried inside finally erupted. The soul crushing weight of loss tumbled down over you, sending you into a frenzy. You thrashed your arms, throwing your fists in shallow, but sharp strikes. Battering against Tate’s chest, you landed every blow - inspired by betrayal. He remained still, watching you with a hollow look.

Hits turned to scratches as your grief took hold of you. You clawed into Tate’s sweater, wailing, powerless to the pain of his disloyalty. Taken aback by your overwhelming emotions, you wondered how the afterlife could bring so much suffering. Tate wrapped his arms around you again, and you buried your nose in his sweater. Your sorrowful tears stained the stitching.

“I hate you. So much. So fucking much.” You whimpered.

“You said you cared about me.”

“I hate that I care about you.” You cried, sobbing into his sweater, “I-I want to hate you. I need to hate you. But you’re right. You’re fucking vile, and you’re right. If you were gone, I wouldn’t have anybody else.”

Shifting again, he tilted your head up with a cold hand under your chin. Tate stared down at you, weary with lonesome desolation. The endless monotony of purgatory brought forth nothing but turmoil. And that turmoil linked you both in all-consuming angst. When he dove in to kiss your lips, you allowed it. If only to feel something far less painful.

Tate hadn’t kissed anyone in over a decade. But he flowed naturally with you, wary of applying too much pressure. The last of your tears fell, and again, he wiped them away. Separation came slow, as he parted from your lips. He blinked, leering like he couldn’t believe you reciprocated. Another beat, and he dove in all over again.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

Kissing in your ghostly state felt bleak as the dull air of winter. In the throes of lonesome yearning, death nuzzled death so intimately. You opened yourself up for him, moving back until you hit the windowsill. In your negligence, you sat on it. A calm, easy breeze enveloped your back, tickling your neck. His desirous kisses swallowed you in, his hands claiming your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He mumbled, his words weaving through every kiss.

Fate had yet to deliver you closeness of this kind. You couldn’t fathom how intimate connectedness might work in death. As Tate’s cold lips fell to your neck, the atmosphere between the two of you shifted. Something akin to the radiance of life saturated the air. Like the summer’s glow shining from outside. A few seconds more, and coldness turned to heat. Sensual heat.

“What does it feel like?” You asked, breathless without the need for air. You tipped your head back. Tate took this as an invitation to ravish more of you, “To make love after dying?”

The glossy warmth of his tongue painted gradual lines across your neck. He caressed you with a thumb, gliding the digit over your cheek. Under the newfound heat of his palm, you felt burning intensity. No one else brought you physical touch like this. Not since a time before you perished, so long ago.

All because of him.

“Feels kinda the same?” Tate muttered in a hushed voice. Capturing your lips again, he kissed you with cautious tenderness, “It’s a lot like being alive…from what I remember. Some of us get addicted to it. Like a drug. They suffer without it. Drives ‘em crazy.”

His forehead fell to yours once more, and Tate’s eyes fluttered shut. He continued stroking your cheek, cradling your face. As if you’d disappear once he let go. You noticed the way his chest heaved. Slowly, like his lungs were still infused with the essence of life. But when he moved in for another kiss, you felt no breath on your lips.

“Does it drive you crazy?” You whispered between kisses, “Do you suffer without it?”

“Not really.” He said, dragging his thumb over your lip, “Missed this, though. I miss it all the time.”

“What? Kissing?”

Tate nodded, blond brows creasing as his smile faded. For a beat or two more, he fell silent. Staring down into your eyes with all the liveliness of a barren void. You gazed into a cave-like abyss, lost with no light to guide you. Beckoned by the promise of something unseen.

“This feels…different…with you.” He whispered.

“Different how?” You shivered as his soft touches moved elsewhere, "Are you feeling guilty? Does it hurt? I hope it fucking hurts."

Dragging the tips of his fingers up and down your arms, he drew invisible lines with his nails. So careful. Like you’d shatter if he treated you too roughly. His palms settled over your hips, and again, he kissed you. Tate just couldn’t seem to stop doing so, even as you spoke to him with poison on your tongue.

“No. It’s warmer.” He squeezed your hips a little tighter, “Why…why’s it so warm with you?”

The initial kisses between you both were so frigid and lifeless. But now, somehow, so heated and real. You locked your legs around his hips, crossing your ankles. Inviting him forward, you loomed in the sill of the window. Your body tilted. In the arms of the summer’s air, you almost fell backwards. You had every reason to believe Tate would let you plummet.

But he didn’t. Not this time.

With an arm wrapped around your waist, he kept you from slipping. Under your dress, his free hand sought the heat between your legs. His palm cradled warmth over thin cloth. Discreetly, he pressed the pads of his fingers to your sex over your panties. And the contact amplified a scorching fire within you. A vigor exceeding the bitterness of death.

You wondered if Tate had less experience than he claimed in therapy. It took him a few tries before he found your clit. His sizable fingers circled your little nub in easy motions. Drawing long, needy noises out of you. Silence lingered between you both in calm, but tense quiet. Until the rasp of his voice caught your attention.

“Do you feel this? Do you feel, like…anything?”

You whimpered in response - timid like a churchmouse - as wetness stained Tate’s fingers through fabric. Cotton once so pure and untouched became damp. He chuckled, the sinister rumble in his throat making your blood run cold. Until the warmth of desire lured you in before you could second guess yourself. Savoring the hot friction on your pussy, you allowed sin to taint your clarity.

"For you? No. Never. You're sick. You're twisted. You're-" You cut yourself off with another whimper, once Tate caressed you with more pressure.

“Oh, shit…” He hastily tugged your panties down your thighs. Cupping your bare cunt, he pressed firmly into your clit. Thick digits teased the blazing heat of your folds, “You do, don’t you?”

Tate’s fingers dipped into your slick valley, his digits predominantly larger than your own. You rolled your hips just a smidgen, careful not to lose your balance - lest you fall out the window. Again. Though, maybe a rough tumble onto the lawn would knock some sense back into your muddled head. His other arm stayed iron locked around your body, keeping you safe. He eased inside you with all the hesitance of a man out of practice.

"F-Fuck! Fuck this. Fuck you." You mumbled, hushed under airy moans.

Following the squeeze of pleasure in your core, came something you lost in the afterlife. You almost felt the pumping of your dead heart again. A ghostly sensation of life blossomed under your ribs. Warmth flowed through your veins in syrupy bliss. Cozy wind billowed from outside, tickling your skin. If you closed your eyes for long enough, basking in the ecstasy of true feeling - you might’ve believed you were somehow revived.

Flitting your lashes, your eyes gradually opened. The sunny glow of afternoon light painted Tate’s aged features, showering him in golden rays. An image far too heavenly for a cold-blooded monster birthed from sin. You looked lazily into his hues. A whirlpool of guilt intermingling with lifeless cruelty; all within his dusky eyes.

“Feels like…” He mumbled, clumsily nuzzling your clit with the pad of his thumb. Biting his lip, Tate stifled a groan. He buried his fingers to the knuckle in your cunt, “...like I can feel your blood pumping.” Adding a third digit, he stretched you open. Your walls made effortless room just for him. You whined, making him smirk, “Fuck, this is hot. You love it, huh?”

"No. No. No, I'd never! Not with you. I'm just-" You swallowed, feeling your cheeks burn, "It really does feel like-"

Post-mortem coldness became lost on you now. Left behind, alongside your broken hearted resentment. Instead, you were overcome with the lively spirit of beingness. The afterlife had been so unkind to you. For a decade now. It abandoned you to stew in the longevity of solitude. With no one but Tate to provide you true company. Bringing your hands up to his cheeks, you pulled him in for a kiss. Your fingers threaded through his blond locks. Winding your tongue sloppily with his, you whined.

"Make me cum." You asserted, your legs sealing tighter around him, "Make me cum, and I might forgive you."

A flash of vulnerable sweetness overtook Tate's face, his puppydog eyes lighting up. An almighty flood of euphoria built up to a radiant crescendo, as his digits fucked you into oblivion. You clamped around his fingers, squirming with such intensity - he almost lost his hold on you. Tranquility found you at the peak of your climax. A divine miracle. As you cried little pleas into Tate’s lips, you felt as though you grew angel’s wings. As if some ethereal being descended from the heavens themselves, stole you away, and led you to the golden gates.

As you shuddered, your paradisal tremors eventually subsided. Blissful nirvana faded, and the hollow nothingness of death’s touch came again. Outside, the world continued on in slow-moving seconds. And in the distant horizon, the sun began its steady fall into night. Tate’s nose brushed yours. Looming in so close, he withdrew his drenched digits from your pussy. Leaving even more forsaken emptiness behind.

“I could…do that kinda thing for you every day…if you wanted me to.” He whispered, peppering your forehead in kisses, “It feels really good, doesn’t it? Just…please don’t make me go away? Please…”

[pinksturniolo]

Robbers - A Chris Sturniolo One Shot (AU)

Chris Sturniolo x Fem Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend Chris Sturniolo is a part of The Disciples, one of the most notorious Portuguese gangs in Boston. For the past year and a half, you’ve witnessed him take part in the most dangerous crimes. But what happens when one day, you're forced to participate with him? You know it’s extremely toxic and goes against all your morals. Despite that, you just can’t help the way you love him, the way you would do anything for him. Even rob a gas station.

Content Warnings: smut, raw penetration, fingering, oral, themes of criminal activity and violence, mentions of shooting, guns, and blood. descriptions of gunshot wounds, gun play, drugs and drug use, smoking, use of alcohol, murder, robbery, toxic relationship

a/n: I do not condone any actions in this story or promote gun violence. I do not intend in any way shape or form to offend anyone. This is one is a little dark and has a lot of mature themes as well as a gun kink, which can be uncomfortable for people. Please only read what you can handle. <3

word count: 6,452 (!!!!) ik it's long but pls read it all, i spent a lot of time on this one.

Watch this music video before reading, just trust me: The 1975 - Robbers (Official Video) (Explicit) (youtube.com)

Fall 2025

You drop your cigarette to the ground, your sneaker snuffing out the cherry as you crush it against the wet concrete. There’s a light drizzle tonight, temperatures dipping as early September arrives in the city of Boston.

You sigh, leaning your head against the brick wall and tucking your hands into the hoodie of your pocket. What’s taking him so long?

Your boyfriend had been inside the house for 30 minutes now and it was making you nervous. Each time you went with him to these types of jobs, you were scared. You would never let him see that, but you were always worried something bad was going to happen.  

Granted, he knew how to take care of himself perfectly fine, but it was the other people he was meeting up with you didn’t trust. You were constantly on edge every time you would wait for him, anxious whether he would come back to you alive.

He didn’t like the idea of you coming along with him at first, but when you convinced him it didn’t make a difference whether you stayed home and waited for him or if you came along, he eventually gave in, making you take a gun with you just in case you needed to use it.

He had taken his time to teach you how to hold and shoot it properly, making sure you wouldn’t fuck up and accidentally shoot yourself. He taught you a lot of things, like how to throw a good punch without breaking your hand, how to roll a blunt the right way, how to steal from the liquor store without getting caught.

You met Chris almost a year and a half ago now, at a mansion party one of your friends had dragged you to one night. She begged you to go, saying her friend Jonah there knew a guy, who knew a guy, that knew this one guy that had the best weed in the city.

She failed to mention this guy was a member of The Disciples. His name was Chris Sturniolo and he was known to beat up anyone who crossed him. You had heard rumors before about him, he sold a lot of drugs, and he didn’t fuck around when it came to his money.

So naturally, you were a little intimidated when you were introduced, sitting next to him on the large plush white couch. His friends sat around him, smoking and talking amongst themselves, and you noticed the looks they gave you and your friend. You definitely stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Hi, I’m Layla, my friend Jonah said you could get me some K2.” Your friend said, like she had done this a thousand times before.

“What’s up Layla. Who’s your friend?” Chris asked, looking straight to you.

You fought the urge to shrink into the couch, his piercing gaze burning into you. His long hair stuck out from his beanie, smoke filtering through his nose as he inhaled the joint he was puffing on.

“Uh, this is Y/N.” She replies, looking at you hesitantly. “She’s a little shy.”

You smiled awkwardly, the look in his eyes still making you squirm in your seat.

“You look too good to be here, mama.” he says, grabbing a baggie from his pocket, handing it to Layla. She takes it, getting the money from her pocket to give in return but he simply shakes his head. “Keep it.”

She looks shocked, looking at you again and you shrug, unsure why this drug dealer is giving you both a free pass. His eyes haven’t left you, looking you up and down without shame. You feel like he’s undressing you with his eyes but the longer you make eye contact with him, you don’t feel uncomfortable. You feel curious, like there’s a magnetic pull in between you two.

“Want a taste?” he asks, motioning with his head for you to come closer, holding out the joint for you to try.

You hesitate for a few seconds before you scoot closer to him on the couch, your thigh now brushing his. He smirks and holds the joint close to your mouth as you close the gap, leaning forward a little to wrap your lips around it, slightly touching his fingertips.

You take a small hit, inhaling the smoke into your lungs as you lean back into place, his eyes on your mouth as you exhale.

Your friend Laya feels the obvious tension that’s now in the room, watching the interaction between you two. “I’m gonna go find Jonah.” She says to you, and you simply nod, never breaking eye contact with Chris.

The loud music of the party vibrates through the room, making it hard to hear but you don’t need to exchange words to know what you both are thinking. He takes another hit, holding the smoke in his mouth as he leans even closer to you, placing a hand on your jaw, silently telling you to open your mouth. When you do, he hovers his lips over yours, blowing the smoke into your mouth and you inhale, holding it for a few seconds until you blow it out.

He then moves his head down, placing a single soft kiss on your neck, directly under your jaw and whispers in your ear, “Meet me in the bathroom.”

Needless to say, you’ve been attached to each other since that night, a whirlwind romance from the start.

Chris finally comes around the side of the house, backpack around his shoulder. You sigh in relief, and he smiles when he sees you, putting an arm around your waist as you walk next to him towards the car. “Worried about me, baby?” He teases, opening the passenger side door for you.

“Always.” You reply and he closes the door, walking around to get into the driver’s seat, throwing the bag in the back. He takes off, one hand on the steering wheel and the other rests on your thigh. You can’t help but notice something a little off about him though. He’s not very talkative like he usually is, and his hand grips the wheel a little too hard, his body tense.

“Chris, what happened in there? Why did it take so long?” You ask, looking at him until he finally makes eye contact with you. And what you see makes your stomach turn because you see an emotion across his face that you’ve never seen before.

Fear.

He licks his lips nervously, looking back to the road. He knows that you noticed. “We’ll talk once we get back to the house, okay?” he replied, giving a reassuring squeeze on your thigh.

You were only about 10 or 15 minutes away, but you had a strong feeling that something was really wrong. “Don’t bullshit me. Tell me now.” You demand. He looks at you, not liking the tone of your voice. “Please.” You add a little softer and he sighs, knowing that you wouldn’t let it go that easily.

“The deal went fine. Jason seemed to be satisfied with the profit from last month. But he wants me to do a job next weekend…” He starts, looking more nervous by the minute.

“Okay? What job?” You pry, not understanding what was wrong. Jason is Chris’s “boss” and usually gives the orders on what to do. He also supplies Chris with all the drugs he needs to sell, cutting him in on half the earnings. Which is considered generous in his line of work. As long as Chris does whatever he asks.

“He wants me to hit a gas station. The one on the corner of South Street. But it’s not just any old gas station. It’s a front for a drug spot and they’re stealing a lot of our customers. So, I gotta bust it. But Jason doesn’t want anyone dead, he’s gonna have some of his guys go in after I’m done and take them to the warehouse. I just gotta get away with the cash and drugs.” He explains.

“By yourself? What about Tommy?” You ask. Tommy was one of Chris’s partners and usually went on jobs like these with him.

Chris stays silent for a few minutes, his eyes focused on the road. He makes a left turn, both hands on the wheel now. The streetlights passing cast a yellow tinted light into the car, and you can see whatever internal struggle is going through his head right now on his face.

“Chris?” You say quietly, leaning forward to try and get him to look at you.

He doesn’t though, his jaw clenching and hands tightening on the wheel.

“Not by myself… He wants me to bring you.” he finally says quietly.

You’re unsure of what to say, not really processing what he’s telling you.

“What do you mean? Bring me with you to the job? Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?” You ask, utterly confused about what’s going on.

“I mean he wants you to do the job with me. Be my partner.” He replies, now pulling into the driveway of his house and putting the car in park. Now he turns to fully face you and his expression is a mix of anger and regret.

“Ever since you started tagging along with me, Jason hasn’t liked it. He says this work is no place for a woman. I really don’t give a fuck about what he says, I never have. I’m not stupid, I know I’m risking a lot by even having you around someone like me. But I told you from the start, I will always protect you. Nothing and no one is gonna lay a fucking finger on you.” He says, his hand coming up to stroke your face.

You grab his wrist, holding his hand there. “Hold on- he wants me to help you rob the gas station?” You ask, your heart racing as you now understand what Chris means. You knew Jason never liked you, you got a dark vibe from him the few times you had been around him. In fact, you don’t think he liked anybody. Chris told you many stories of how ruthless he could be.

“Baby, you’re not doing anything he says okay? I’ll take care of it.” He said, the tone in his voice making it clear he doesn’t want to discuss this any further.

Before you can question him more, he gets out of the car and comes around to open your door, helping you out and closing it behind you as you both walk into the house and upstairs to his room.

He takes off his hoodie and shirt, and turns on the shower, letting the water run so it can warm up.

“Chris… If I don’t go with you, who’s going to?” You ask, the gears turning in your head.

He shakes his head, looking at you with an unreadable expression. “No one.”

You furrow your brows in confusion, still not grasping the big picture here. “You can’t go by yourself. That would be too dangerous.” You speak.

“Y/N, please stop. We’re not talking about this anymore, okay? I’ve told you enough already.” He replies shortly, taking off his jewelry and setting it on the bedside table.

“Just answer me one thing.” You continue, determined to get the full story. “What happens if you go against what Jason says and do the job by yourself?”

Chris doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look at you. You know that you probably pissed him off now by pressing him for answers, but you didn’t care. You deserved to know the full situation. If he was in danger, you needed to know.

A few minutes go by, steam starting to fill the room from the shower. He simply sits at the edge of the bed with his back to you, running a hand through his hair.

“Chris. What are you not telling me?” You say, your voice slightly rising and there’s a hint of desperation as the pit in your stomach grows. There was something completely off here.

“Fuck.” You hear him silently curse before he finally tells you. “If I don’t make you do the job with me, I’m dead. It’s his sick fucking way of showing his power over me. He knows that I won’t put you in danger. So, he’s using my life as leverage.” His head is now turned slightly towards you, staring at the spot on the bed next to you. He’s afraid to look you in the eyes.

You’re speechless as he gets up and goes into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Tears fill your eyes, and you feel sick to your stomach. It seems you’re now faced with an impossible choice.

Either risk your life and freedom to commit armed robbery or have Chris murdered by his sadistic gang boss.

When Chris finally comes out of the bathroom, you’ve created a lake of tears on your pillow from crying so hard. You’re extremely upset with him for dropping that bomb on you and just leaving you there in shock. But honestly, you probably would’ve just argued with him till your lungs gave out and maybe it was a good thing he left you alone to process.

You know Chris too well to know that he’s made his mind up about the deal Jason has given him. He’s going to give up his life just so you don’t have to risk yours. But you’ve just as equally made up your mind as well. There’s no fucking way you’re letting Chris go by himself on that job.

“Baby… I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” He says, getting in bed next to you. You’re faced away from him and he lays close to you, snaking his arm around your waist and pressing kisses to your shoulder. “I know thisis fucking crazy, okay? But I couldn’t keep it from you. Don’t worry, okay? Everything’s going to be- “You cut him off, turning around abruptly to look at him.

“I’m going on that job with you. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you go alone.” You interrupt. His face is soft, obviously not taking you seriously and he brushes your hair back, letting his hand trail down to rest on your shoulder.

“Just get some rest, Y/N. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” he replies.

“No Chris, I’m serious. You’ve taught me how to take care of myself, right? And we have until next week, we can plan- “You start but he shakes his head, placing his hand back on your jaw, his thumb softly rubbing across your lips, stopping you from continuing.

“No. I don’t want you getting into this. This is not up for debate. This is dangerous now.” He says sternly.

You grab his hand from your face, a little roughly, now placing a hand on his neck, looking deeply in his eyes. “Do you really think I give a fuck about how dangerous this is? Chris, I’ve been by your side through a lot of shit. If we can just get through this job and do what Jason says, we’ll be fine. No one is dying, okay? I love you and you’re going to let me help you. And that’s the end of the discussion.” You tell him, a flicker of emotions crossing his face as you speak.

He doesn’t say anything. He simply wraps his arms around you, pulling him into you and you lay your head on his chest while you both drift off to sleep.

✰

It takes a few days for Chris to accept the fact you’ll be going on the job with him. He’s a little distant from you at first, angry with you for what you’ve decided but mostly just afraid of what will happen. Since he’s met you, he’s wanted nothing more than to keep you safe. He knows his lifestyle is not good for you, not good for anyone. And now that it’s come to this point of putting you directly in the line of danger, he’s scared shitless. And he wants to kill Jason for putting both of you in this position.

But he goes over the plan with you, making sure you know every step.

Tommy will drop off both of you across the street from the store, and once you get inside, you’ll only have 30 minutes to get in and out. You’ll hold the cashier at gunpoint while Chris goes in the back office where the drugs and money is supposed to be stashed.

There will probably be another guy back there, but he’ll take care of him. As soon as Chris is done, a couple of Jason’s men will come in and finish the job, taking the rivals to him, and you both can leave with Tommy. The gas station is only a few miles from the Disciples’ warehouse, so once you get there you can drop off the goodies and be done.

Easy, right?

Chris goes over the steps again at least a dozen times on the day before the job. You start to get irritated, and he notices, giving you a hard look as your eyes glaze over when he’s talking. “Y/N. Pay attention, please.” He says, as he unloads the bullets from his .45, taking it apart to clean it.

You roll your eyes and rest your chin in your hands from where you sit on the bed. “Chris, I know the plan already. Can we talk about something else now?” You whine, watching him as he puts the gun back together.

He smirks at the tone in your voice. “Just making sure, baby.” he replies.

You can’t help but stare at him as he puts the parts of the gun back together, his arms flexing with his movements, veins in his hands popping out. A pair of black sweatpants hangs lowly on his hips, his shirt is off, and his hair is messy from the nap you took together earlier.

Also, the little pink pill you popped with Chris about 20 minutes ago is starting to take effect as you feel a slight floating sensation in your body, your heart rate picking up just a little. The air around you becomes intensified and Chris looks over at you, noticing your longing stare.

“You good?” He asks, eyes travelling down your body to your bare legs hanging off the edge of his bed. The only thing you have on is an old t-shirt of his and your black panties.

“Mhm.” You nod, staring at the gun in his hands.

There was just something so hot about him holding it like that.

He walks over, now standing in front of you, and places a finger under your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him. Your eyes are glossy and low, and he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, admiring how pretty you look like this.

“You high baby?” He says lowly, and you reply with a nod of your head as he holds one side of your face in his hand, bringing the gun up to lightly stroke over the other side.

This causes a chill to run down your spine, wetness immediately pooling in your underwear. You’re not scared. You trust Chris completely, even if it was loaded.

He then lets it trail down further slowly, over your neck and between your breasts, dipping down your stomach to in between your thighs where he teasingly rubs it over your panties, bumping against your clit.

You sigh into his hand that’s gripping your jaw and his thumb slips into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around him, looking up into his eyes. His pupils are blown out, watching you get pleasure from his weapon between your legs.

You know its crazy but the sexual energy behind it turns you on more than anything.

He removes it suddenly, placing it on the bed and before you can whine in protest, he climbs on the mattress behind you, instructing you to scoot back so he rests against the pillows, and you sit in between his legs. There’s a large mirror in front of the bed and you lean back against his chest and watch while he trails his hands down your arms, and then your hips, resting on top of your thighs and squeezing.

Your head falls back as he places his lips on your neck, kissing softly and sucking at the skin there, leaving his mark on you. He massages your inner thighs, thumbs brushing close to where you need him the most.

“Don’t tease me.” You breathe, gripping his knee, one hand going up behind you to tug on his hair.

“What do you need, baby?” He mumbles into your neck, his hand now pressing over your underwear, palming your heat. You buck your hips slightly, pulling harder on his hair. He grunts into you, his other hand squeezing your waist. You feel his hardness growing, pressing into your ass.

“I need you. Please.” You whimper, your head resting against his shoulder. He gives into you, loving the way you beg for him, and dips his fingers into your underwear, slicking through your folds, arousal coating his fingers.

“So wet for me…” He rasps, rubbing your clit in slow, agonizing circles, making you melt into him. You moan out loud, sinking your teeth into his neck as he pushes your panties to the side now, and moves his fingers down to your entrance, pushing one in all the way to the knuckle and then pulling it all the way out, once again going back up to massage your clit.

He’s torturing you and you’re a mess beneath him, leaking out onto the sheets, squirming from the pleasure and he holds you down firmly. “Chris, please.” You beg, unsure what you’re trying to say as he has you in a state of bliss.

“Be a good girl for me.” He responds firmly, watching you in the mirror as he thrusts two fingers back inside you, stretching you out, wetness coating his hand. He moves at a faster pace now, curling as he pushes them deeper. He holds you tight, your head thrown back in ecstasy, puffing hot breaths against his neck, sweet moans filling his ear.

“Fuck, Chris, just like that.” You whine, feeling a familiar warmth in your abdomen build. He doesn’t stop, his thumb now circling your clit, his fingers hitting your g spot with each thrust.

“Look at me baby.” He demands and you lift your head up, making eye contact with him in the mirror, watching as he fucks you with his hand, your legs spread open for him.  

“I’m so close.” You moan, the sparks of pleasure he’s created spreading within you. You move your hips with each thrust of his fingers into you, Chris moaning with you as your ass repeatedly grinds back against him.

“Already, mama?” He teases, unable to hide the smugness from the fact he’s always able to make you finish quickly.

“Chris.” Is all you can manage as his fingers continue to slip in and out of you, pushing you to the edge.

“I know, baby, you’ve been so good for me. You can cum baby, cum on my fingers.” He praises, and his arm is around you, holding you as your body shakes, basically riding his hand at this point. Seconds later, you release the tension that’s been building, crying out loudly as warmth floods your body, thighs clenching and your juices releasing onto the sheets beneath you.

You’re extremely tired now, your body relaxing against him as he slowly moves from under you, getting up from the bed to grab a towel to clean you up.

He does so, rubbing your legs gently, brushing your hair back from your face as you lay against the pillows. He presses a kiss to your forehead, laying down next to you.

“Get some rest, baby.” he says quietly, cuddling close to you as your eyes grow heavy. “But Chris, don’t you want- “you start, knowing he needs to be attended to as well.

He shakes his head softly. “Not now, mama. Too stressed over tomorrow. Let’s just go to sleep.” He answers, and you sigh, wrapping your arms around him and falling asleep.

✰

It’s a dark, cold night in the city, no heat in the van as you sit in the back with Chris, pulling your hood up onto your head. You’re parked in the alleyway across from the gas station, hidden from anyone who might be out on the streets.

You bounce your leg in nervousness, feeling the hard metal of the gun in your hoodie pocket. He places a hand on your thigh, trying to calm you down. “You can still back out of this you know.” He says and you lace your fingers through his, shaking your head. “I’m fine. You’re not going in there alone. I’m just a little nervous.” You respond.

Tommy sits in the driver’s seat, smoking a cigarette and passes it to you. You take a drag, trying to calm your nerves down.

 “It’s okay, Y/N. 30 minutes, in and out, and we’ll be good, okay? Just remember the plan.” Chris reassures you, giving you a kiss before he pulls his ski mask on. He has a black long sleeve on and black pants, his gun tucked in his waistband.

You tie your bandana on, only your eyes visible, your hair tied back under your hoodie. “Come on.” He says, sliding the door open and helping you out. “Pull up when you see us come out.” He tells Tommy, who nods as Chris shuts the door.

He turns to you, his eyes soft and places his hands on your shoulders. “Last chance, baby. Are you sure you wanna do this?” He asks.

“Yes, I’m not bailing on you now. Please, let’s get this over with.” You say and he pulls you in, hugging you tightly before you both cross the street quickly.

It’s 1 am, the streetlights glow on the pavement, the open sign of the gas station blinking.

He gives you one last look before he pulls open the door, both of you raising your guns at the man standing at the register.

 There’s a pure look of shock and terror on his face as he raises his hands in the air. Your eyes scan the store, grateful to see nobody else inside. “Don’t make one fucking move!!” Chris screams at him as he moves toward the back door behind the counter.

You stand in front, keeping your gun aimed at his head. The man’s eyes flicker between you and Chris, his hands shake slightly. You feel bad for him but then remember how Chris told you he’s involved in one of their rival gangs and probably has done worse than you.

Chris kicks open the back door, and you watch as he disappears into the room, hearing him shout at one of the men that must be in there. You can’t make out what he says though and focus back on the clerk. You keep your expression blank as he stares at you, his arms still raised.

“Did Michael set me up?” He says and he flinches as you move your gun closer to him.

“Shut the fuck up.” You say, refusing to engage in conversation with him. You assume he must be referring to his boss, and he’s unaware that his operation has actually been busted by the Disciples.

As if he can read your mind, he speaks up again. “I just started this job. Michael hired me to run the register here, I had no idea what was going on in the back. I thought he only owned this place, I didn’t know who he really was.”

You furrow your brows in confusion at his words. Was he saying that he didn’t know his boss was actually a gang leader? You now realize he looks very young, like he could still be in high school.

You shake your head, your gun never wavering from your aim at him. “Stop fucking talking!!” You yell. For all you know, he could just be making this up, trying to mess with your head.

What was taking so long?

Chris was still in the back, and you couldn’t hear anything.

“Please, you gotta listen to me-“The clerk starts again but he’s interrupted by a gun shot popping off in the back, making you flinch and your heart instantly drop.

You panic and Chris suddenly runs out, large duffle bag on his shoulder, while you hear the man in the back scream, “Shoot him!” He sounds in pain and you get a glance of him on the floor, his leg bleeding and it’s obvious now that the gunshot was from Chris.

Before either of you can react, the clerk pulls a gun out from under the counter, aiming it at Chris.

It all happened in the blink of an eye.

Bam!

The sound of the gunshot rang out, making you lose your ability to hear for the next few seconds as you watched Chris go down, clutching his stomach in pain. Blood started to spill out on his hands, staining his shirt a crimson color. The gas station clerk was as shocked as you were, standing there frozen, gun still pointed.

You don’t know how or why, but you just knew you both wouldn’t get out alive from this if you didn’t do something.

So, you shot back, aiming for his shoulder. It hit him right where you intended as he doubled over immediately, screaming in pain.

You grab Chris who was still on the floor, helping him stand up. “Baby, come on. Please, we have to go now.” You plead. He grabs onto you, able to stand as you lead him out of the store.

He’s moving as fast as he possibly can, one arm around your shoulder, his other hand covering his wound. You see the van pull up on the other side of the street, your heart beating out of your chest.

You’re trying not to panic, looking up and down the street for any signs of police. There was hardly anyone out. Chris almost falls, shouting out in pain. “Fuck!” He yells and you stop him from falling.

You can barely hold him up, but you use all your strength to make it the last few steps to the van.

“I know baby, I’m so sorry. We’re almost there, Chris, just a few more feet. You can do it.” You say, and he’s shaking, still gripping onto you for dear life. You finally make it to the van, the door sliding open, Tommy helping you both in before he quickly shuts it and then hops back into the driver seat, taking off down the street.

“Holy shit, what the fuck happened in there?!” he says, looking at both of you with wide eyes.

“Shut the fuck up. I need to stop him from bleeding out. I’ll tell you later.” You snap, taking off your hoodie and wrapping it around Chris’s torso. You apply pressure, glancing at him.

He’s pale, breathing rapidly and panic in his eyes as he looks at you. You grab his face with your other hand, brushing his hair back. “It’s okay baby. Don’t worry. We’ll get back to the house soon and get you bandaged up, okay?” You reassure him, trying to keep yourself from crying.

He nods his head, grabbing your hand tightly as he winces in pain.

What the fuck did you just get yourself into? The many times you and Chris had gone over the plan, and it still didn’t go accordingly. Now Chris was wounded and the drugs and money you were supposed to retrieve still at the store. You’re not sure how you both are going to get out of this.

You tell Tommy to drop you guys off at Chris’s house instead of the warehouse. Once you get there, he helps you take Chris inside and you tell him to lay low for now, until Chris gives him the next order. He leaves, and you silently pray Jason doesn’t get to him before you guys decide what to do, or worse, get to Chris.

He’s lying on his back on the bed, and you put a pillow under his head, trying to make him comfortable. He winces in pain as you take your hoodie off from around his waist, his hands gripping the sheets harshly. You pull his shirt up. The bleeding is very little now but it’s all over his shirt and stomach, as well as your hands and you get clean, damp towels and bandages for him.

Luckily the bullet only grazed him, you notice as you clean him up, not seeing a deep wound.

You’re almost done putting the gauze and bandage on, making sure it’s tight as he looks at you, and grabs your arm, stroking it softly.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry mama.” He says weakly and you give him a soft smile. “Don’t be sorry. Just be glad we both got out alive. Are you okay?” You say and he nods. You help him pull his shirt off, his wound now clean and bandaged. You give him some water and a left-over Vicodin he had in his stash, hoping that will help with his pain.

You sit next to him on the bed now, running your hands across his chest and shoulders, his eyes closed at the feeling of your soft hands.

“Chris… what do we do now?” You ask, knowing you can’t avoid the inevitable.

He looks at you, his hand resting on your knee. “I never told you this, but I have an older brother who lives in Vermont. I’ve been thinking about going there for a while now… starting over with you.” He responds. “Would you go with me?”

“Baby… I would go anywhere with you.” You say and lean down to press your lips to his.

You kiss him softly, careful not to hurt him. You start to pull away, but he holds your face there, deepening the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. He moans at the contact, making you throb in your core, but you pull away, not wanting it to go any further.

“Chris. We can’t, you’re hurt right now.” You say but he shakes his head, pulling you back to him.

“I don’t care, I need you Y/N.” He replies and kisses you again. You give in, allowing him to mesh his tongue with yours again. You suck his bottom lip, nipping it lightly with your teeth and trail your hand down his chest, making sure to avoid the spot where his wound is, feeling his stomach tense under you.

He groans into your mouth as you palm over his crotch, already rock hard and straining through his jeans. “Fuck, mama. Don’t tease me.” He breathes, as you rub your hand back and forth over him, feeling yourself grow wet at the sound of his voice.

If it was any other instance, you would drag it on and make him beg for it like he does with you, but you didn’t want to do that to him right now.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna take care of you.” You say softly, unbuttoning his jeans as he lifts his hips, sliding them down his legs and removing his boxers.

His long, thick cock lays against his stomach and you grab it pressing a kiss to the tip and then letting a pool of saliva drip down him, coating him before you take him all the way down your throat, your nose brushing his pelvis. “Fuuuck…” He moans out, his hands holding your hair back from your face, pulling it into a ponytail.

You gag slightly, but quickly adjust to his size, bobbing your head up and down him. Your hands rest on his thighs, and you hum around him as he pulls a little on your hair, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip from the feeling of you taking all of him in your throat.

“Yes, baby, feels so good. You look so pretty with my dick in your mouth.” He groans, making you moan again and he’s gently bucking his hips up, already feeling himself close.

You continue for a few good minutes, pausing only to catch your breath, your hand jerking him up and down before he pulls you up, helping you remove your clothes as he gives you a needy look.

“Come here, please. I wanna cum inside you so bad.” He says and you waste no time, sinking down onto him, the pleasure making you both cry out. You lay on top of him, your hands in his hair and kiss his neck, starting to grind yourself down on him.

“Is this okay baby? You’re not hurting?” You check, making sure not to put too much pressure on his lower stomach.

“Fuck no. Don’t stop.” He replies, grabbing your hips and helping you ride him.

He’s moaning in your ear, and you continue sucking and kissing his neck, leaving hickeys on his skin. You clench around him, your hips rolling, the feeling of his tip kissing your g spot making you soak all over him.

It’s only a few minutes before you’re both panting and sweating, the sounds of your wetness and skin against skin filling the room, driving you both to the highest point of ecstasy.

“Shit- feels so fucking good mama. I wanna fill you up.” Chris says, his fingertips digging into you as he squeezes your waist, feeling his release building.

You moan his name, your head falling to his shoulder, fingers knotting in his hair as you continue to bounce on him. “Cum inside me baby, please.” You whimper, and you feel his hips stutter, rhythm becoming sloppy as he starts to release into you. Your orgasm hits as well and he moans loudly as you feel his cum paint your walls, your legs shaking.

You stay there for a little, Chris holding you as you both catch your breath before climbing off him.

You check his bandage, making sure it’s still on good and then grab one of Chris’s shirts throwing it on while he puts a clean pair of boxers on.

The early morning light is now shining through the bedroom window, and you both kiss lazily, exhausted from the events of the night. He holds you close and you try not to think of what will happen next, focusing on the feeling of his hands in your hair, gently massaging your scalp, while he whispers “I love you.”

a/n: omgggg this was a crazy, long one but i really hope you guys enjoyed it!!!! im almost at 100 followers thank you guys so much. pls leave me more messages i wanna know your thoughts!!🩷

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[biteofcherry]

to find the light, we must first touch the darkness

Please also check out @bluepinkangel​’s amazing hot moodboard for this universe 🖤

dark mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: When you unexpectedly are appointed to run a health center, you foresee many struggles along the way, but not one in the form of a merciless mob boss. Steve Rogers’ core aim is to own and he won’t take no for an answer. To any of his demands.

warnings for this chapter: dark!Steve Rogers; power imbalance; forced relationship; D/s undertones; public humiliation; groping; dirty talk

I did warn you this Steve is dark 😜

word count: 4k

Touch the Darkness Masterlist

Main Masterlist

5. Breaking ice 

~ * ~ 

You’ve never been more annoyed with a sunny day and warm lightness filling your bones than you felt the day after the apothecary incident. Extra bounce to your step as the sun stroked your face and corners of your lips threatening to curl up irked you immensely. 

Every other minute you tried to force yourself into a stormy mood.

Into an expected reaction to what has happened.

You faced direct danger, witnessed people being killed in cold blood, you were trapped in a relationship with a fucking mobster, who - on top of it all - screwed your body and mind in a most wicked, deranged way.

You shouldn’t be feeling cheery. That reaction was inadequate to the situation and to the moral norms you thought you possessed. 

Either Rogers had that strong of an impact that you quickly bent to his dark whims, or the spine you thought you had always been a noodle not a steel rod. 

How otherwise explain the fact repulsion at his manhandling transformed into thrill and arousal? 

Last night, when you finally went to bed after taking a thorough scrubbing shower (and crunching a few cranberry pills to pray the UTI away), the images of being fucked with a gun resurfaced in a colorful burst. 

The crystalline blue frozen in ice of Steve’s irises, the soft pink of his lips inches away from yours, the black of the gun against your floral dress. 

It made you sticky instead of sick. 

You had some knowledge of the psychological aspects to rough sex fantasies, or bdsm preferences, even consensual non-consent role play; but they all were considered normal when consented and previously explored. 

You did not give Steve your verbal consent. Yet you didn’t exactly fight him. Convincing yourself it was because he had a gun and could kill you with it fell poorly since your pussy clenched at the memory of the barrel against your skin. 

What has your life become - cranberry pills and getting wet from being violated.

You were angry, yes, but not at what you should be. Your annoyance with Rogers was peaking, but the true resentment wasn’t only toward his actions. It was directed at yourself for not being outraged by what happened. 

When the next day at work Natalie asked you about the meeting, you gave her the short version - a trap being set up and Rogers coming to save you. The part about coming all over his gun was left unspoken.

You told yourself it’s to spare yourself further humiliation, but a part of you simply feared you’d get turned on thinking about it again. 

Really, that should be a topic to pick at a therapy session, but you couldn’t do that either. You had enough common sense to know going to a psychotherapist was out of the question, not with the man who was about to become your husband. You couldn’t tell all the truth in a session (to not risk a therapist’s life) and going there only to lie and omit had no sense. 

So you decided to channel everything onto the job. 

Focusing on work meant not allowing your thoughts to roam around Steve fucking Rogers, as well not giving your body reasons to stir with arousal. 

You caught up on paperwork, made a few phone calls - including those less important, just to occupy yourself; you visited the new speech therapist in their office. Being busy enhanced the sense of lightness, which you preferred to read as having no space to overthink and stress, instead of wondering if getting debauched was the sole cause of your serenity. 

However, the lull of denial burst the moment Natalie came into your office with lunch.

Lunch you didn’t order, and a couple trailing behind her with creepily bright smiles on their faces. 

“Miss Leigh Parrish and Mister Elias Asher are here for you.” Natalie informed you, professional as always, though you noticed the barely constrained eye roll. “And they brought you lunch, apparently.”

“What?” You looked at the set of neat three boxes with delicious looking food then at Natalie and at the pair behind her. 

The two walked in with confidence, as if they were about to take over your office. The woman, Leigh, had a pad in her hand and a huge binder under her other arm. The man held some small kind of measure tape and a little blue notebook. 

If they were some new donors, or a company who wanted to start a program with your health center, they sure were the very first to start negotiations this way. Usually you were invited to lunch, not have it brought. People meeting you were also more reserved and polite, instead of barging in with some wacky energy. 

“Lunch is from Mister Rogers, we’re just delivering since we were going to be here anyway,” said Leigh, her toothpaste-commercial grin not changing for a second.

Instantly your mood dropped, your eyebrows creasing into a hostile frown. 

“And why are you here?” Your tone remained calm, but you made sure displeasure in it was audible. 

Steve randomly buying you lunch was a worrying problem you stored to resolve later; though you had a feeling he wouldn’t care that these nice gestures annoyed you, as they clashed with the picture of a ruthless mobster you were adamant on hating forever. 

The two cheery people coming in unannounced - at the direction of Steve, undoubtedly - became the aim of your irritation and distrust. 

“To help you plan your wedding, of course.” They both beamed in unison and you almost groaned at how overtly sweet the woman’s tone has become. 

“Mr Rogers mentioned you’re fighting nerves, which is absolutely understandable,” Leigh cooed and your fingers twitched, ready to reach for something to throw it at her. “Planning a wedding can be stressful, especially an impromptu one. But that’s why I’m here! I’m the best wedding planner in the city and I’ll make sure it surpasses all your dreams.”

Your reluctance toward the wedding wasn’t something you hid from Rogers. Quite the opposite, you announced it any chance you had; within limits of reason, to avoid being disposed of.

Him sending in an actual wedding planner was a move you did not expect. At all. 

You’d sooner anticipate him dragging you in your pajamas in front of a forced registrar to get it over with. 

Ah, but that would be too easy. Not enough torment for you. Not enough room for you to show how obedient of a wife you’d be. 

We both know you will be a good girl for me, Princess, his voice resounded in your head, a decadent richness that softened your limbs for a split of a second before your resistance kicked in. 

Having you organize the wedding, or at least actively participate in it, was a lesson - that you would follow his orders even if you hated them.  

“The best wedding planner in the city has a free slot to organize a wedding in a month?” You arched a single eyebrow, studying the woman. “What skeletons are in your closet that my fiance managed to blackmail you?”

You didn’t doubt she was one of the best, but those had their schedules booked for three years in advance. To have her clear it for you meant there was more than just money at stake for Miss Leigh Parrish. 

Her smile faltered for a second, but she regained her composure fast. She ignored your question, walking instead toward your desk and placing her huge binder on it. 

“Since we have the venue covered, with Mr Rogers estate being more than enough to host the event,” she went on, “there are only details to talk over. Let’s start with the wedding rings, so that Elias can begin working on them right away.”

Her companion stepped forward. The tiny measuring tape in his hand now made sense, as it apparently was to measure the circumference of your finger to match a ring size.

“Let’s start-” you interrupted, pushing your chair back- “with you leaving my office.”

Interesting how you managed to maintain your poised self, professionally cool as you delivered the polite fuck you, while that composure quickly dissolved around Rogers. 

You kinda stepped on eggshells around him at first (and still, sensing when the crossing line was too near), but then his demands lit your fuse. Somehow you dared to stomp your foot, be loud in your outbursts and acts of rebellion. And it wasn’t because Steve provided safe space, oh no. He was far from safe. 

“What?” The man blinked, confused, while his friend blanched.

“We have to get it done. As soon as possible.” Still trying to sound sweet and soft, Leigh made the mistake of allowing a tremble to shake her voice. 

“Then get it done, I don’t really care.” You shrugged.

It was the truth. You didn’t care for the ceremony at all. 

You had a brief thought about hating it, if it was some overused boho or retro theme in a barn, but then again you would hate it anyway, since you didn’t want to marry Steve. Besides, it could be funny to see his face if someone told him to wear suspenders and a flat cap for aesthetics.

“You, um, you don’t want to participate in preparations for your own wedding?” Leigh frowned, utterly surprised. “Not even pick a dress?” 

“I can wear a t-shirt and flip-flops for all I care.” You probably wouldn’t go that far, but you really didn’t care. 

If Rogers didn’t order you to wear a wedding dress, you’d do it anyway just to please your parents who were going to be completely oblivious to the truth behind your speedy wedding. You preferred to keep it that way, playing someone so dumbly in love she was ready to marry a few weeks after meeting the guy. You didn’t want to worry your parents.  

Natalie snorted at your words, for the very first time so openly showing amusement. She even grinned when you glared at her, then turned on her heel and walked outside.

“The, um, the wedding rings?” Elias cleared his throat.

“Barbed wire would be fitting,” you snorted under your breath, but he didn’t seem to hear it. You suspected he might’ve fainted if he did. 

“Whatever Mister Rogers wishes,” you shrugged. “As a matter of fact, why don't you go and consult with him?” 

To underline that you were done with this whole shit-show, you opened one of the lunchboxes and dug a fork into it. You didn’t lift up your eyes from the delicious food until you heard the door closing.   

You ate your lunch while idly browsing the internet, just to get your thoughts off the wedding completely. It was approaching with each passing day and you preferred not to accept the fact. 

Though you weren’t sure denial would work once there was an actual ring on your finger. 

It seemed it wouldn’t work even before that, because not a half hour after you dismissed the wedding planner the door to your office opened with impetus.

Steve strode inside, a force of a thousand storms contained in a man’s body. 

His heavy boots and the hem of his tight jeans seemed to be freshly stained with something wet and dark. The rest of him was perfectly clean, not a smudge of dirt on his hands. You tried not to think of blood splashing on his shoes and legs as a lifeless victim fell at Steve's feet.

You definitely tried to ignore a wave of heat that washed over you at the thought. 

You forced your eyes to stay on the devil’s angelic face, drowning in the hues of blue, so that your gaze wouldn’t slide across Steve’s body in search of a gun holster. 

“Princess.” Steve sighed, but there was an undertone of amusement in his voice. 

He walked toward you with purposeful steps; his mass seemingly changing the gravity inside your office, so that all light fractured to disappear in his approaching darkness. 

Or maybe it was your attention discarding anything in your peripheral to focus on him, as if he was the center of your world. 

You abruptly stood up and shuffled back instinctively, bumping into a bureau. Steve caged you against it, blocking any route of escape with his arms on both sides of you. It was only then that you tilted your chin up, tapping into the remnants of your steel defiance.

“Why am I hearing that you’re scaring off the wedding team?” Steve tilted his head to the side and chuckled. “They’re here to take the planning burden off your shoulders, so that you can focus on your work. And your future role…”

You swore that if he said anything about wifely duties, you’d kick him.

“I told them they can plan whatever they want. As long as they do it far away from me,” your mocking sweet smile combined with your sneer. 

Perhaps your tone provoked it, or maybe a challenging fire in your eyes, but Steve’s lips curved into a wolfish grin. 

“Oh, Princess,” he cooed, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip, “look at your cute yip, yet there’s no real bite to it.” 

It was very dangerous to do anything to antagonize Rogers, especially when he was this close and could snap your neck with his bare hands, but you acted before a reasonable thought settled in.

You opened your mouth and caught his thumb between your teeth, clenching your jaw enough to cause pain, but not drawing blood.

Steve’s eyes hardened, the blue of his irises darkening. Time froze for a split second; you could almost hear the ice cracking beneath your feet and the murky depths awaiting to swallow your dead body. 

Suddenly your eyes widened, when instead of backhanding you, Steve pushed his thumb further between your lips.

Your teeth released their grip, his digit easing into your mouth and pressing against your tongue. Saliva pooled around it and you instinctively hollowed your cheeks. 

Twisted satisfaction igniting in his eyes and the subtle thrust of his thumb along your tongue stirred you from stupor. Scorching shame filled you to the roots, though you hoped it didn’t show. 

You pulled back, turning your face away from Steve as you swallowed remnants of his taste. He tilted your chin with his wet thumb, forcing you to look him in the eye again. What the fuck was with this man and maintaining eye contact? 

“Let’s get it over with, shall we?” He smoothed a hand down your arm and wrapped his fingers around your wrists. 

Next thing you knew Steve was calling for Elias Asher, as he stretched your arm out; thumb pressing into your palm to make your fingers stretch. 

Elias stumbled inside and almost tripped over his own feet at the sight the two of you displayed - you pressed against the bureau with Rogers’ intimidating size looming over you, your hand offered on a silver platter. 

“You mentioned you need measurements for the ring size,” Steve intoned conversationally, “do what you must.”

You glared daggers at Steve, which he accepted unbothered. The jeweler’s fingers didn’t shake as he wrapped a small measuring tape around your finger and wrote down the result in his notebook. However, all the while he was staring either at your finger or his notes, never up at either of you.

That way it was easier to pretend the scene before him wasn’t close to intimate, or that he didn’t suspect you were being forced into marriage.

“What type of metal?” His voice wavered slightly. 

“White gold,” came Steve’s decided reply. 

Something told you that while he was giving you free will to organize the wedding however you liked, Steve had already chosen how your permanent shackle looks like. 

You peeked at his hand, gaze sliding across the rings adorning his thick fingers. You noticed there was none on the finger on which a wedding band is worn. He was going to make sure that your rings matched the set he was already wearing.   

“Pure and fierce, like my fiancée.” Steve added, with a mocking tilt. 

“And the cut?” Elias scribbled down, not lifting his eyes at either of you even once.

Steve’s eyes sparked mischievously. His right hand moved up your thigh, squeezing your thick flesh through the fabric of your skirt.

“Cushion?” Steve mused aloud.

Then his touch moved upwards, along your ribcage and ghosting over the swell of your breast. 

“Round?” He cupped your tit indecently, causing you to gasp in outrage that he dared to do it in front of someone. 

That he dared to do it at all!

“No. We know which suits you best, right?” Steve’s hand ventured north, brushing your collarbone before his fingers curled around the front of your neck. 

“A princess cut.” 

Ringed fingers wrapped around your throat loosely, but it was a firm enough gesture to boil your blood and weaken your knees. 

You couldn’t blame it on the fear of being strangled, because not a single thought about it entered your mind when Steve did that. Neither when he did it the first time, in his kitchen, nor now. 

What you thought about was the power he spread over you and how it melted your resolve into an obedient puddle. Against all reason. 

Unable to look away from Steve, you didn’t notice the jeweler leaving your office in a hurry, undoubtedly ready to drink away what he tried not to witness. You didn’t even hear the door close, your ears were filled with the sound of your own heart pounding in a quickened rhythm as Steve’s hold on you continued. 

Slowly (it seemed reluctant, too), Steve loosened his grip. He didn’t move it away, though, shifting it only slightly, so his hand splayed like a necklace above your sternum. 

You took a shaky breath in, cogs in your brain starting to turn anew. 

“Why can’t we just sign the papers without this wedding party fuss?” You asked quietly, gaze shifting from Steve’s hold on your hand to his face. 

He brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles before he let go of it and took a step away from you. He swiped a hand over his mouth then gave you a blank, almost condescending look.

“Because I need everyone convinced I’m here after your cute ass, Princess. Blind with love or lust, or whatever people want to believe in,” he winked at you, as if you were supposed to agree with his cynical assessment.

You thought quite the opposite. That no one sane would believe Steve Fucking Rogers was interested in you. 

“Who would even believe that?” You snorted, frowning.

It wasn’t about insecurities of any kind; you were mildly confident both in your looks and your worth. However, men like Rogers didn’t even circle around women of your kind. 

Men of power; men who rode the thin line of morality, mostly treading through the dark side; they went for women who craved such things. Women who suited that lifestyle. Women rotten at the core, or greedy (whether for wealth, or for power and influence). Or at least for women who looked really fucking good on their arms, like models and escorts. 

No one, none of Steve’s rivals surely, would believe that he was simply courting you. You beside him made zero sense.

Steve laughed. Actually laughed. A warm, sparkling burst of amusement that made his handsome face gain impossible boyish charm. 

“That a man got addicted to a sweet pussy?” He looked down at you, still grinning. But that grin transformed into a sly curve. 

“Everyone, Princess.” He leaned closer, again; voice nearly purring as his lips brushed your cheek. “I can assure you that even at this moment they’re thinking I’m balls deep inside you.”

You couldn’t help the shiver that rocked your body. Judging by the way Steve’s eyes dragged down and up your frame, he noticed your reaction. 

“I’m kinda thinking about it, too.” He licked his lips, drawing your hungry attention to them.

But the ire at his crude words snapped you out of daze. Your fingers curled in a fist and you pounded it against Steve’s chest when he pressed his weight into you.

“In your dreams!” You hissed.

Your small fist made no real impact against Steve’s hard chest. It didn’t deter him and it seemed he didn’t even feel any pain from the hit. 

His hands returned to your body, boldly gripping your hips and holding you in place as he licked along your jaw. He flicked your earlobe with his tongue - a lewd tease that should disgust you, but instead made your pussy tingle.  

“I’m dreaming of our wedding night.” Steve whispered before pulling away with a low chuckle at your wheeze.

“There will be no wedding night!” You pounded two of your fists against his chest. Futilely.

Steve regarded you with a look one may give to a small kitten trying to appear intimidating toward a wolf fifty times its size.

“I’ll make you a deal, Princess,” he tucked both thumbs beneath the hem of your blouse, his touch nearly scorching against your skin. 

“On our wedding night, if I touch your sweet pussy and it’s dry, I’ll let you pick a bedroom for your own. So you can live in solitude, unbothered by my presence.” He sounded sincere, like it was a business deal he was really willing to propose.

Then his hips were pressing against yours, bulge in his pants prominent as he rocked it into you. Steve’s eyes flashed a dark gleam; his sensual lips parting enough to reveal a row of sharp teeth ready to take a hefty bite.

“But if I find your cunt leaking, as I know it is now-” his deep growl resonated straight to your clit.

“I’ll take a pound of flesh. And I’ll be taking you over and over and over again, until you lose your voice from screaming my name.” 

You clutched at his shirt where your hands rested on his chest. You wanted to be able to shove him away, to punch away the beam of smug victory off Steve’s face. Reasonably, you knew you couldn’t do that without serious repercussions happening. 

You were also too busy with the inner battle, fighting some fucked up, primal need to have Steve do to you exactly what he threatened. 

The bastard was unfortunately right, you were soaked. Something you’d never admit to him.

Even if he pushed his big hand up your skirt and dipped his fingers straight into your dripping cunt, you’d deny it to his face. You’d deny it to yourself. Forever. 

Thankfully, Rogers didn’t push further. He seemed satisfied with his stupid bet and that you didn’t fight back (even if you kept your mouth closed in fear of releasing a whimper). Steve let go of you, only lifting one hand to cup your chin.

“Now be good, Princess,” he commanded. “I don’t have time to deal with hysterical wedding planners.”

You grimaced - eyebrows drawing in a frown, nose scrunching up. You weren’t interested in dealing with wedding planning either, but you were aware Steve considered the topic closed. If you reopened it, he might do more than just bend you into obedience in front of a stranger.

“Then why did you come here?” You asked instead.

“I came for my distressed fiancée,” Steve’s grin was cheeky as he used his grip on your chin to slightly shake your head.

He squeezed a tad tighter and when your lips puckered he pecked them. 

“You’ll get a big girl kiss when you start acting like one,” he added at your indignant glare. 

Then released you and simply turned around to leave. You cursed him and called him names in your head. You prayed that one day you’ll get reckless enough to throw something at him, consequences be damned. For now, you still liked to be alive. 

[decolonize-the-everything]

Ok, you seem to basically be saying project 2025 is inevitable so don’t vote because Joe Biden is evil. So then, how do we survive when contraception is made basically illegal, lgbt people are outlawed and possibly murdered, etc? Or are we supposed to just lie down and die?

These are two extremely specific scenarios that heavily play into self victimhood and narratives of powerlessness and frankly, I don't have the energy to pretend it's something else when there are a handful of rebels with literal fucking sticks fighting against a genocide being carried out by the world's richest powers.

You are neither a rebel nor are you fighting the world's richest powers with makeshift weapons or your bare hands. You are stressing about which box to check off in November, so my genuine advice is take your head out of your privileged asshole and consider that you have way more options than "vote" or "die" and lying to yourself about those being your only options is only gonna help you sleep for so long.

There are people like you and me literally fucking fighting for their right to live and exist, for their homes, for crumbs of food, dying for water, etc.

And you with your little American ballot in your hand have the audacity to say "should I just lay down and die" cuz I don't think you should check the Genocide Joe box???????????? And then you ask ME what IM going to do about it if cops possibly murder you when Trump is elected?

And you ask like that isn't ALREADY a daily reality for anyone living under Biden in the USA!!!!! We had protests for a whole fucking summer about police brutality cuz cops won't stop killing Black people! And they haven't stopped, you know.

So what was your answer when they asked us for our intersectional solidarity to save their lives? How much effort did you put in? Did you learn about mutual aid or direct action or how to protest? How to organize or draft demands so you can effectively make change year-round?

Cuz I remember how often those posts were going around. I know you saw some of them at least.

Did you make the effort to save someone besides yourself? Or did you think it was all unnecessary because you were fortunate to be wrapped in privilege?

You know, I didn't see one viral post from any white queer ppl saying "WE NEED TO (x) YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT!" about defunding police departments or masking 🤧

What did you expect Black people to do when you didn't care enough to listen? When BLM stopped trending? What about Palestinians? Did you expect them to lay over and die? Did you think about what would happen if you abandoned them? Did you care?

But it matters now that you're on the other end, don't it?

ANY singular marginalized, oppressed group on earth can tell you letting them kill you has never been an option.

Stonewall didn't happen in a voting booth. Neither did the civil rights movement. Nor did our treaties. Even suffragettes committed arson and bombing campaigns.

We have never just laid down and let them kill our community or treat us like we are lesser. We have always taken what was ours because the nature of oppression is that you will never be given what you deserve, even if you vote for it.

"do we just lay down and die"

Liberation doesn't have a manual so I can't give you the step by step. But I assure that we will not find it through a bureaucracy and government built to silence, erase, and oppress us. And it sure as hell won't be found in a boomer that sleeps peacefully at night after killing children and denying genocide.

And the only fucking people that use others as stepping stones for their own comfort and well being are oppressors and fascists.

So additionally if you're sitting there upset because my morals don't bend for the privileged and you're thinking about how awful I am cuz I can't be convinced to justify killing people from Sudan and the DRC and Palestine instead of queer Americans then get fucked. Cuz you would be the EXACT type of person I loathe.

We are all in this together or you are with the oppressors. No more in between. We don't have the luxury of having the time to pretend there's any good reason to be a fascist apologist.

At this point, you're either fighting for progress and human rights or against it.

"are we supposed to just lay over and die"

If I die it'll be a warriors death and I think every single person on earth who has asked me "so what are we supposed to do?!" should work on having the same answer.

[red-dead-do-over246]

Can I get some javier x reader angst with #214?

Yes! Hope you enjoy!💖

*Angst Warning*

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There's a Rat Among Us

Javier is extremely loyal to Dutch, and he won't let anything interfere with his boss's grand plan. Not even you.

#214 “I didn’t realize I was such an inconvenience.”

Beaver Hollow was as dark and empty as the gang's morale. People were turning on each other, secrets were being whispered, and lies were being told. After the death of Hosea, Micah had weaseled his way in as Dutch's right-hand man. And Dutch...he had completely turned his back on everyone who he raised. You, John, and even Arthur.

But Dutch still managed to sway the minds of even some of the most level-headed gang members.

Of course, Bill would continue to ignore the truth and stay by Dutch's side, but you were surprised by Javier's actions. He was an extremely loyal man, it was one of the reasons you loved him, but he was becoming a different person. With the way he treated you and others...it made you uneasy.

It was like Javier was becoming paranoid.

"Arthur, what's wrong?" You were busy with your horse outside of camp, finding the company of the four-legged animal to be more appealing than anyone in camp, even Javier at the moment.

"I need to leave." He muttered, voice raspy and ending with a rough-sounding cough. It made your heart break each time you heard him. It was like Arthur was withering away.

"What happened?" You asked. You knew things were shit right now, but Arthur was usually the backbone of the gang. The one who would stand up and persevere if things were to go arwy.

"Sides are being chosen...Micah's gone and convinced Dutch that there's a rat among us...Javier just got done harpin' on me about that. I need some time away from here." Arthur said, all that talking leading him to have a coughing fit. Again, your heart ached for him, but you knew better than to ask if he was alright. Arthur was never one for wanting pity or concern.

But hearing what Javier said to him...it made your blood boil.

"I'm going to go and talk to him." You said angrily. Arthur already knew who you were talking about and nodded, wishing you luck as he went to go and mount his horse. He decided that some fishing might be more peaceful.

Meanwhile, you marched back into camp like you were on the warpath. You've had it up to here with Javier's behavior. The whole camp was silent, each doing their own thing. Micah was whispering something to Dutch, the ladies were keeping to themselves, expect Karen who was drinking again, but there was one thing that would always hurt you whenever you walked back into the camp of Beaver Hollow.

No sound of Javier's singing.

No matter how upset you were right now, the pain that came with his silence would always hurt you. The camp used to always be warmed by his guitar and his singing, and now, it was void of all delightful music. It was like the man you knew really did die back on Guarma, and this is all you have left.

The shell of a man you once loved.

"Javier? Where are you?" You muttered to yourself as you peered around camp, avoiding eye contact with Micah's buddies that decided to make themselves at home. As you moved behind one of the wagons, you caught your lover leaning against a dead tree, smoking.

"What did you say to Arthur?" You cut right to the chase before he could try to swoon you with any of his charming words. But his eyes didn't even soften when he looked at you. He didn't even greet you with one of his pet names that he's given you.

"I said what needed to be said." He responded, tossing his cigarette with force as his full attention was now on you. You hated that you tensed.

"Arthur is no rat! How dare you even accuse him so!" You shouted at him, not even caring that other members of the gang were starting to stare. He narrowed his eyes, a suspicious look on his face as he gazed at you.

"Why do you care so much? Do you love Arthur now?" He accused you, and you scoffed. You couldn't believe that Javier would actually say that to you after all the time that the two of you had spent together. All that time around the fire, the sweet moments that you guys had away from camp, how he would always know how to cheer you up and make you smile, and even more, that night you gave yourself to him for the first time.

Did that mean nothing to him anymore?

So, you slapped him.

"Fuck you Mr. Escuella!" You shouted at him, voice full of rage. Your body was practically shaking as you tried to calm your anger. Your hand stung, but it was nowhere near the pain that was inflicted on Javier's cheek, which he was now clutching, using his other hand to keep him from crashing into the tree.

He was fuming, but he kept himself from cursing at you, even though curses were going through his head a mile a minute.

"You know," Javier waited for the ringing in his ears to die down a bit before speaking up again, removing the hand from his cheek, "with how quickly you defended him, I would say you know who the rat is."

"There is no rat." You seethed at him, but he just crossed his arms, eyes narrowing on you once more.

"I think it's you."

Those words hurt you more than upset you. Even after everything that's just happened, even though your guys' relationship is seemingly crumbling, you never thought that Javier would accuse you of betraying the gang. Not ever.

"I would never betray these people like that." You defended yourself, but he merely shrugged, a redness forming on his cheek from where you slapped him; a painful reminder that you've probably lost him for good now.

"I don't believe you." He simply said.

"Are you calling me a liar?" You asked him, hurt feigning on the tip of your tongue as you tried to sound tough.

"Mentiroso." He said to you in Spanish, and you didn't even need him to translate it to know that he was calling you a liar. Your shoulders shook, but not with anger this time. You could already feel the tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

"You know, we don't need this right now. We don't need you. You're just causing problems for everyone, especially me." He told you and your chest heaved as you tried to keep yourself from emotionally breaking.

“I didn’t realize I was such an inconvenience.” You muttered to him, and Javier just looked away from you.

"Dutch needs me strong." Javier said to you, obviously ignoring the sounds of your heart shattering. You didn't even have the strength or anger to hide your heartbreak anymore. He was gone. Javier was gone and replaced by someone else.

"Then you can sleep with him from now on." You growled at him before turning on your heels and leaving.

"Puta." You hear him mumble.

Once you were out of sight and in the safety of your tent, you allowed yourself to cry freely. You hated how pitiful you sounded right now, desperately trying to cover your sobs with your hand as you grabbed your clothes and other belongings. But soon, you couldn't stop the pitiful wails as you packed your things. You were sure that everyone could hear you, but Javier broke your heart, and you accepted the betrayal now.

"Where are we going?" You asked Javier as you held onto him from behind on the back of Boaz. Out of the blue, he had asked you to come with him somewhere.

"It's a surprise." He responded, and you could practically hear the smile on his face. You groaned a bit, causing him to laugh.

"Nearly there, mi amor, I promise." He said, urging the horse to move a bit faster. The sounds of hooves hitting the dirt filled your ears as you watched the sun dip further into the sky. You soon rested your head on Javier's shoulder, dozing off a bit until the horse was finally halted.

"We're here." He announced before sliding off his horse and helping you down. You thanked him with a kiss to the cheek, and looked around.

You noticed that you guys were at a cliff that overlooked the Grizzlies and the sun that was starting to set. It was a bit chilly as the wind blew and you soon noticed that someone (a certain outlaw perhaps) had already been here as a blanket was lain there. There was also some flowers.

"I noticed that you were sad, querida. I heard you crying in your tent, and I knew that I had to make you smile again." Javier explained to you as he walked by you, grabbing your hand as the other held his guitar.

"I...I love you." You nearly cried again as your gratefulness came out in the expression of your feelings for him. Javier just chuckled before pulling you down onto the blanket with him, telling you that he loved you back through a tender kiss to your forehead.

"I know how much you love to hear me play, so I brought this with." He said as he settled the guitar in his lap, seeing your eyes light up with pure happiness.

As the evening went on, Javier had discarded his jacket to you once he realized how cold you were. You then cuddled into him as he continued to play, sharing a bottle of whiskey here and there. You were no inconvenience to his songs as you wrapped arms around him and kissed his cheek, letting him know how much happier you felt now.

"Are you truly better, mi amor?" He asked, hoping he did a good job in cheering you up.

"You always know how to make me smile again." You told him as you moved to kiss him properly, your heart swelling with love for him.

You blinked away more tears as you recalled that memory. Last time you were sobbing like this, he had planned something just to cheer you up. Javier took time out of his day just for you. He gave you affection and it was clear to you just how much you meant to him. Now, you knew that it was all gone, which caused another sob to escape your mouth as you covered it pitifully.

You made your decision to leave him and the gang for good.

But little did you know, Javier had heard you sobbing from where he was against that tree on the outskirts of camp. You would never knew this, but he did feel a little guilty about the things he said, but it was too late for regrets. All he could do was push it to the back of his memory and focus on his loyalty to Dutch.

However, when morning came and you were gone, all those regrets he pushed away came back tenfold.

"What did I tell you? Relationships do nothing but make you soft, that's why Y/N left. Too soft." Micah told Javier the next day after discovering your disappearance.

Javier said nothing to him.

"You're stronger now." Micah said in a tone that could be compared to the hissing of a snake as he patted Javier on the shoulder before leaving and going back to Dutch.

Javier soon found the strength to move his feet and enter your tent. The whole place was devoid of any sign of you. All he could think of was you sobbing in here as you most likely packed to flee this place. To flee from him.

The Mexican outlaw then sat on your cot, shoulders heaving as he tried to control his emotions. Not anger, however, but rather sadness. His head found its way into his hands as he gripped at his hair till his knuckles turned white. Soon, sobs could be heard coming from your tent once more.

But it wasn't you.

It was the man you once loved, feeling all the guilt in the world, and wishing he could've lost enough arrogance to sing you one last song.

[theamberfist]

It's Tough to be a Teacher | Alastor x Teacher! Reader

Platonic! Alastor + Best Friend! Teacher! Reader

Description: You and Alastor have been best friends since you were alive; where you two served as a murderous radio-host-and-kindergarten-teacher duo. Now, your refusal to become an overlord and protect yourself in hell causes Alastor to come up with a plan to convince you; for your own safety.

(Notes: CW Alastor, mentions of cults)

❀ We've got a song in this one! (Sometimes I like to write in songs I find if they fit the scene since Hazbin Hotel is a musical after all!) ❀

Words: 4,243

Alastor was someone who absolutely thrived in hell. With almost no consequences for any of his actions, he could kill, torture, or eat anyone he wanted. It was no surprise to you that he'd risen to be one of hell's strongest overlords in such a short time after his death.

You'd also been dead by then. In fact, you'd been killed off long before he had when your crimes in life were discovered. Alastor, upon arriving in hell years later, had informed you that he'd gotten revenge on those responsible for your death in the most brutal, bloody way possible; just as a best friend should, and he'd been making a name for himself here ever since with your support.

You were under the impression that you thrived in hell, too. However, since you had absolutely no interest in becoming an overlord, this sense of safety and contentment you felt was really thanks to your best friend's protection. There were few in hell who would mess with the Radio Demon, and even fewer that would have risked harming you and incurring his wrath when the two of you were always seen together.

But that didn't mean there weren't any at all.

Since his debut as an overlord, Alastor had caused many of hell's strongest to go missing, where he broadcasted their screams of pain and torment for all to hear. As it turned out, many of those missing overlords happened to be connected to not-yet-missing ones, who would then take it upon themselves to exact their revenge upon him. And more recently, that meant going after the closest person to him, you, as an eye-for-an-eye sort of situation.

He hated it. Even more so because you could have easily become just as powerful as him if you wanted to. You'd been a killer in life too and you certainly had the stomach to deal in souls, but every time he brought the topic up, you refused it.

Your murders had always had a strict moral code to them when you were alive. The pattern had been what ultimately alerted the New Orleans police that you were a suspect and got you caught in the end. You only ever killed those that you had deemed deserving of it based on a list of circumstances and traits. In short, you'd been trying to make a positive impact on the world in your own twisted way by killing off people you considered bad.

In fact, you met Alastor precisely because of your little 'good deeds,' as you'd referred to them at the time. You had been in the woods burying a body, only for him to be out hunting at the same time. Surprised by the presence of another person, he'd come over to strike up a conversation and the rest was history. You'd been best friends ever since because, ironically, Alastor had never met your qualifications for a truly 'bad' person.

Together, you two were a radio host and kindergarten teacher duo by day, but a pair of serial killers by night; both very notorious for your crimes.

And yet, when you'd arrived in hell, you'd seen no point in becoming an overlord. Why own the souls of other sinners? It wasn't like you wanted to become some sort of god and the way you saw it, you could protect yourself just fine without that extra power (though, Alastor would have begged to differ on that point, considering it was usually his power protecting you without your knowledge). So every time he tried to suggest you join him in his path, you'd politely but adamantly refused.

Which was why he was now left at a loss for what to do. Sighing, the Radio Demon slumped in his seat as he stared down at the 'coffee' in front of him. He'd come down to Cannibal Town since they had some of the best cafe's in hell and a warm drink had always helped him think better.

He could continue to protect you the way he currently was just fine, of course, but should he ever not be physically present, and an overlord that was on the stronger side showed up, he wasn't as confident in the fact that you'd get out unscathed.

The Radio Demon had never worried for another person to this extent in his life or afterlife, but it seemed his best friend was one of few exceptions to that. After all, without you, who would he share endless hours of gossip with when even Rosie was busy? Who else in hell had he known in life that didn't constantly ask him for favors the way Mimsy did? Who else had quietly listened to his broadcasts every day while their kindergarteners took their afternoon naps in the classroom?

No matter what you said, he refused to allow you to come to any harm if he could prevent it. Whether he liked it or not, you were too much of an important aspect in his life for him to even risk that. For heaven's sake, you had hardly even committed a single crime since arriving in hell of all places because you claimed "everyone here was probably a bad person" and that you "couldn't actually kill them anyway so what was the point?"

So it was Alastor's concern for your safety that finally brought him out of the cafe and on a walk through the cannibal colony in the hopes of coming up with a solution. If he couldn't get you to become an overlord, perhaps there was some other way to ensure your safety down here. Could you make a deal with someone in higher standing? Sneak into heaven? Get a job working for Lucifer, if you had to?

Luckily, he didn't have to ponder long, because as he walked, he passed by a group of what looked like young adult sinners all resembling various animals. They were gathered in an alleyway and huddling like a sports team might before a big game, and since they weren't doing anything that particularly irritated him, he nearly passed them by without a second thought.

...Until he heard them say your name. Well, it was your last name; they'd referred to you the way your kindergarteners might have, back when you were alive.

Alastor froze, his head snapping to look at the group now. Upon noticing his gaze on them, they all quieted down as he repeated your name with an unreadable expression.

"Do the lot of you happen to know them?" He asked. The sinners all exchanged glances before hesitantly nodding.

"Yeah, we all had them as our teacher when we were little." One finally spoke up. Clearly, he recognized who Alastor was because he and the rest of them all seemed a bit timid.

"Interesting..." Alastor said as he took a step into the surprisingly-clean alleyway now. He was extremely curious as to why they'd brought you up at a time like this. If they were your former students, he was sure they'd absolutely loved having you as a teacher; all of them had. But bringing up someone who'd taught them when they were in kindergarten at a time like this seemed excessive.

As he came closer to the huddle, he noticed a few more interesting things on the wall behind them that only amused him further. It seemed he'd been right when he called them excessive.

Dozens of what he could only assume were their assignments from kindergarten had been plastered on the wall; all graded by your hand and with that sparkly pen of your favorite color that you always used. The Radio Demon wasn't even sure how they'd procured those things in hell, but that wasn't all. There was a photo of you with your class of kindergarten students from when you were alive at the center of it all, and lines drawn in bright red blood connected everything; wrapping up this odd display.

It was a shrine. That knowledge only made Alastor's smile widen further in amusement. You likely didn't even know these former students were in hell, so he enjoyed imagining how your face would look when he told you all these details.

The sinners exchanged glances with one another now, seemingly put-off by his silence this whole time.

"Do you have a problem with us?" One of the braver ones spoke up, "If so, we're not alone! I'll have you know there are tons of us down here that will gang up on you if you try anything!" The Radio Demon wanted to roll his eyes at that- as if a group of regular demons, no matter how large, could stand a chance against him- but an idea was forming in his mind now that he couldn't help but want to investigate further. He hummed, taking another step forward as he raised his microphone-cane to point at the wall-shrine.

"And do the rest of you worship this person too?" He questioned casually. It seemed your former students hadn't expected that because they exchanged glances with one another again before answering.

"...Yes. All of us were their former students," one said, "We were inspired by their death and followed their ideals in our own murders. Now, we continue to spread their knowledge throughout hell."

"I see..." Alastor replied. He couldn't have been more amused in this moment; here he'd been worrying about your safety since you didn't want to become an overlord, and now it seemed he'd just accidentally stumbled upon the solution. "If that's true, then I assume you've yet to run into them down here?"

That gave the group pause.

"They're down here?" The sinner who had first spoke up asked and Alastor nodded.

"Indeed!" He replied, "In fact, they happen to be a dear friend of mine." Their eyes seemed to narrow at that; as if they didn't approve of the supposed friendship. Alastor, however, paid them no mind as he stood taller and rested his hands on his cane. "I have a proposition regarding your former teacher," he announced to the group, "One I believe you'll be more than inclined to accept."

He could already see their intrigue as he began explaining.

..........

You quietly hummed to yourself as you made your way to what essentially served as your dwelling here in hell. Thanks to Alastor, you could have chosen just about anywhere to live if you wanted, so at the moment, both you and him resided in an otherwise-empty apartment building that closely reflected the architecture found in New Orleans during your time. Your apartments were next door to one another; even having a door on one of the walls between them for quick access, though Alastor rarely ever used it; instead just popping up out of nowhere in your house.

Unlocking the door to your home, you stepped inside and shut it behind you. Since your best friend had been busy today, you'd taken a peaceful walk by yourself and had now returned to make dinner for the both of you. Alternating who cooked and when was a common practice for you and the Radio Demon since you both shared the same tastes and preferences when it came to food. You had to admit, though, that he was much more skilled in the kitchen than you.

You turned on one of the many radios found in your apartment as you moved through the kitchen; humming along with the song Alastor currently had broadcasting. You were just about to start cooking when there was a knock at your door.

Frowning, you set down the apron you'd been about to tie onto your body and made your way to the entrance of your apartment. You'd never received visitors before; and especially not out of the blue like this. Alastor tended to ward off anyone who might have been looking to come see you.

Curious, you looked through the door's peephole to see a huge group of people crowding the hallway. Slightly nervous but remaining confident, you pulled open the door to greet them.

"Hello, can I help you?" You asked as kindly as you could. Alastor would likely lecture you about not answering the door for strangers like this later, but it wasn't like anything was going to happen, right?

Suddenly, someone from the group called your name, but not just any name; the title you'd gone by as a teacher. Your gaze snapped to them in surprise.

"Y-yes, that's me..." You replied carefully, "And you are?"

"It's me; James!" The person called and suddenly, memories of your life came flooding back to you. James had been one of your very first students and he was always such a sweet kid. He used to offer to sharpen your pencils for you during his own recess time, and though you never took him up on it, you were always appreciative.

"And Joseph!" Another demon called.

"And Ruth!"

"And Mary!" Suddenly, a whole chorus of names were called out, all belonging to your former students. Your breath hitched and a huge smile made its way onto your face at being able to see them again.

"My goodness, what are you all doing here?" You asked happily, ready to invite every single one of them into your home for dinner, even if they could barely fit in the long hallway outside your apartment, as it was.

But then it hit you; this was hell. If this many of your former students were here, that meant they hadn't made it into heaven like you'd always assumed. This was only a handful of those you used to teach, of course, but if this many had ended up in hell, you wondered what could have gone wrong to make them commit anything worthy of being here.

"What are you all doing here?" You asked, now crossing your arms. It had been a while, but those teacher instincts of yours were beginning to come back just from seeing all your old kids.

"We found out about your killings!" Mary eagerly spoke up. You cringed at that. You'd known your students would likely hear of what you'd done, and while you didn't regret any of it, you did feel bad that it had likely ruined the image of their former favorite teacher in their memories.

"We were inspired!" Joseph called now and your eyes widened.

"You're like our idol!" Agreed Ruth, "We want to be just like you so we've been living the way you wanted and continuing your legacy of cleansing the world of evil!"

You felt like you couldn't breathe. They were here because of you? Because of what you'd done? You weren't sure whether to be proud or guilty over that, but before you could decide, James dropped another bombshell.

"And now we want you to own our souls!"

You paused, taking the information in. A part of you expected them to backtrack, laugh, and tell you this had all been some elaborate prank, but that didn't happen. They were dead serious about wanting you to be their overlord.

"What?" You asked in surprise as Mary nodded.

"We want to give our souls to you and work under your command!" She explained excitedly, as if what she was proposing was the most normal thing. You weren't sure what to do.

"Uh...Could you all give me one moment?" You asked politely, feeling as if you might faint. The students nodded and you quickly shut the door before going straight to your living room. That was where the connecting door between your and Alastor's apartments was located and you hurriedly knocked on it, needing the support and guidance of your closest friend right now.

"Al?" You called quietly enough that the students wouldn't hear you but loudly enough that he would, "Are you there? I could use some help!" There was no response, even after you waited a minute, and you sighed, assuming he wasn't home yet.

You went to turn around now, trying to come up with a nice way to reject the crowd of people outside when you jumped at the sight of a bright red deer-like demon standing behind you.

"What is it, darling?" He asked in a cheerful tone.

"You've got to stop sneaking up on me like that!" You exclaimed as you reached a hand to your heart. It wasn't like you could have heart attacks in hell but it sure felt that way.

"Why, but it's so entertaining!" He replied before setting his cane down and letting it rest in the crook of his arm. "Now, what seems to be the issue today?"

Ignoring how he almost sounded like a customer service worker, you sighed and reached a hand to your forehead in an effort to calm your already-growing headache.

"Remember how I used to teach kindergarten?" You asked, though, you knew he did. Regardless, the Radio Demon nodded and you continued. "Well, it looks like a bunch of my former students grew up looking up to me and now they're here in hell. They showed up just now and they want to give me their souls like an overlord!"

Alastor remained smiling, as always, so it was hard for you to notice just how amused he was by this situation. "And why, pray tell, would that be an issue?" He asked.

"Because I can't do that!" You exclaimed, groaning in frustration, "I can't hurt them; they're still my former students! I would have no idea what to do with that kind of power and besides, I don't want to be an overlord!" You plopped down on your nearby couch as Alastor listened intently to your plight. Finally, he hummed.

"I still fail to see the issue, dear," he told you, holding his cane in his hands behind his back as he calmly paced in front of you, "who says you would have to harm them if you owned their souls?" When you didn't respond he went on. "And as for the power, you would hardly need to use it. They could live their lives just as they did before if you so wished, but this way, you would finally be able to protect yourself."

"I can already-" you started to protest, only to see the look in his eyes and think better of it. You'd been in denial about the role your best friend played in your safety for a while now. Finally, you sighed. "But Al, they see me like some sort of god," you told him, "they idolize me to a concerning degree. I can't have that power over people; it's never been my style."

Alastor knew this was true. After all, in life you'd always preferred to manipulate the world from the shadows via your killings. You would never have been comfortable with this much glory, but he wasn't about to give up on the idea yet.

"Perhaps I can put it a different way," he said. The sentence was a reference to your teaching style as well; always willing to try and explain or show things differently if a student didn't get it the first time. You were endlessly patient, and luckily, he knew that would work in favor of his current plan. 

With a wave of his cane, a hoard of shadow creatures appeared in the room around you. You glanced at each of them, having seen the group before, wondering how he planned to get this point across. That was when he pointed to the door, where one of the creatures had grabbed the handle and was now swinging it open. In the hall, you could see your crowd of students all kneeling, but they looked up with smiles once the door was open. That was when Alastor, in his theatrical fashion, began to sing.

"There, you see? They're on their knees!" He called, pointing his cane in the direction of the hall, "Being worshipped is a breeze!" As if to further prove his point, the shadow creatures ran over to kneel in front of him. The one that had been at your front door now closed it and joined them. "Which rather suits us in the interim!" Alastor added with his signature wide smile.

"I just...Don't think I'm cut out for it," you admitted with a sigh, completely ignoring his song. On a normal day, you might have sang and danced along, but you weren't in the mood right now. "They want me to be a god!"

You plopped down on the couch with a defeated look on your face but your best friend wasn't done yet. 

"It's tough to be a god!" He admitted dramatically as the shadow creatures spun in circles around him, "Tread where mortals have not trod! Be deified when really you're a sham!" You could tell he was mocking you now as he leaned on the couch and raised a hand to his forehead like an exasperated lady. You rolled your eyes but then he moved to stand in front of you, taking both your hands in his.

"Be an object of devotion!" He sang as the shadow creatures performed some surprisingly elaborate choreography around you. "Be the subject of psalms!" He pulled you up off the couch so you both were standing now and then draped an arm over your shoulders, pulling you in and raising his hand to his mouth as if telling you a secret. "It's a rather touching notion; all those prayers and those salaams!" He took your hand now, spinning you in a circle as you chuckled. 

Alastor knew his plan was starting to work now; at the very least, he'd cheered you up. It seemed pretending he had no part in the arrival of your former students really had been the right choice; otherwise you would have caught on to what he was doing. 

"And who are you to bridle if you're forced to be an idol?" He asked as the shadow creatures brought of both their hands and shrugged dramatically, "If they say that you're a god that's what you are!" You bit your lip at that; seemingly still not enthusiastic about the idea. Knowing he needed to try another tactic, Alastor snapped his fingers, transporting a few of your students into the room.

All of them were kneeling on the floor surrounding parts of what had been their shrine to you. Your widening eyes told him you hadn't realized their devotion ran that deep yet and his smile grew more sly as he went on with the song. 

"What's more," he sang, "If you don't comply with the students wishes I can see you being sacrificed or stuffed!" He dragged a finger across his neck for emphasis and you seemed to get a little more nervous. In order to bring back your enthusiasm, though, he pulled you back into a side-hug as you both faced the students. Now as they continued to kneel, silver platters of your favorite foods rested in their hands and they held them out to you. 

"So let's be gods, the perks are great!" He lead you over to one of the students and took note of how your eyes lit up slightly at the sight of your favorite food, "All of hell here on our plate!" He spun you again now and snapped his fingers so the platters disappeared and a few more students joined the others in kneeling. "The students' feelings should not be rebuffed!" He sang as he directed your attention to the sinners, who all gave you puppy-dog-eyes in agreement. Alastor had to hand it to them; they had a knack for going with whatever he came up with in order to convince you. "Never rebuff the students' feelings, no my friend!" 

The shadow creatures began dancing around again and the other demons joined them, despite not really knowing the choreography. The result was an adorably awkward dance between the two groups. "It's tough to be a god!" Alastor repeated to you as he took a step, gesturing to everyone around you both. "But if you get the students' nod..." He trailed off, giving you the opportunity to speak. You did, with slight hesitation. 

"Count your blessings?" You asked more than you sang. Alastor nodded, glad to know he seemed to have gotten you on-board now.

"Keep them sweet; that's my advice!" He replied as he came to stand by your side again in the middle of the circle of shadow creatures and students. 

"Be a symbol of perfection..." You sang softly. The Radio Demon knew his plan had worked now so he nodded and went on. 

"Be a legend, be a cult!" He advised you, "Take their praise, take the collection as the multitudes exult!" You turned to the students, one of your hands slightly extended as it began to glow your favorite color; a phenomena you'd never experienced before now.

"Don a supernatural habit?" You sang as you glanced back at Alastor, who nodded, before leading you slightly closer to the group. 

"You'd be crazy not to grab it!" He sang as the first student eagerly lined up to shake your hand. This time, you didn't reject the offer and the Radio Demon was glad to know his plan had worked out just the way he wanted. He knew you only needed a little more convincing in order to become one of hell's next best overlords. "So sign up this new god for paradise!" He sang as you finally took the hand of your student, shaking it and solidifying your first deal as a new overlord. "Paradise~!"

And with that, it was done. You would finally own souls of your own, and with them, you would finally have the power to protect yourself just like your best friend had always wanted. 

[bwaybwaycwaycway]

Quick rant about Authority in Disco Elysium

I'm writing this because I had someone rightly call me out at work for second-guessing myself for not trusting in an answer I gave. Specifically, I was asked to identify a type of fire extinguisher from a distance, and even though I was correct, I wanted to check my answer by going up and reading the label. It reminded me about internal confidence in yourself and the things you say.

Authority is an underrated skill in Disco Elysium.

I get why people dislike it. Whenever Authority gets a failure, it has extremely violent, sociopathic responses to the situation at hand, like telling you to hurt people or, in a very famous scene, put a loaded pistol in your mouth. This kind of behavior upsets Kim, who serves as the moral compass for most players, so you stop taking risky Authority checks and don't bother wearing clothing that boosts the skill. You eventually think of Authority as a skill used by people who want to go the Fascist Cop route.

And then you get to the Tribunal. At the end, only one skill will save Kim. Authority. It isn't even you giving him a real order, it's mostly asserting that there is danger and that Kim must respond to it, and ignore your broken half-dead body. It seems like a weird choice that Esprit de Corps isn't doing this, as it's the cop-related skill, or Suggestion, as it is the skill best used to convince others.

No, only Authority will snap Kim out of his panic and make sure he survives the fight without serious injury. And that's because Authority is a skill that, when it succeeds a check, is about personal confidence in your ability as a police officer, and a human being living their life in Revachol.

Authority sure does get you into bad situations, and if you choose to go down the path of the Honour Cop, suggests thumb-fucking yourself to display said honour. But when it succeeds, Authority is barely there, just reminding you that you've got this. You know what to do, you've known all along. You're confident in your actions and accept responsibility for them when Authority is taking lead.

People don't trust cops with low Authority. Sorry Cops, as Kim says, are actively harmful to the reputation of the RCM. Apologizing and second-guessing yourself makes people lose faith in the government you represent and in your ability to solve the case or help them live their lives. A lot of negative modifiers are due to you appearing weak or lacking confidence when you first meet people, as they don't think of you as a trustworthy cop who can fix things.

Finally, the confrontation with Kim over asking him to share a secret about his past, involving the Eyebrow Off, shows that Authority is something that isn't abusive when used right. Kim uses his Authority to convince you to drop the question when you fail, but if you succeed, he share a little fact about his childhood that's of no consequence except it's slightly embarrassing to him. You learn on a failure though that Kim's Authority is immense, and it shows through his confidence in himself and his job as a cop.

Authority is about showing other people, sometimes even falsely presenting, confidence in yourself and what you're doing. When it fails, it pushes you to assert this confidence again, especially in the face of someone trying to assert their Authority over you. It wants you to be a good cop, but has such a narrow way of thinking that it can get you or other people killed multiple times.

[froggyfics]

How We Became Strangers

Prequel to Strangers

We used to be close.

Me likely angst :)

Feedback is always appreciated. Feel free to message me privately or comment below to let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome! 

Pairing: Damian Wayne x gn!reader

Theme: Angst

Word Count: 3,410

“Can you talk some sense into him?”

“You’re the only one that can reason with him.”

“He listens to you the most, ya know?”

You used to think it was a compliment when people would recognize your impact on Damian. You were constantly commended for your efforts to tame the wild beast. It used to send a shiver down your spine that felt so good. 

But lately, those compliments made your stomach churn. You found yourself gritting your teeth, clenching your hands into a fist, curling your toes – anything to distract you from the pang within. 

As childish naivety slipped from your fingers, the blindfold you had on began to slip dangerously. These weren’t compliments. According to the dictionary, a compliment is defined as “a polite expression of praise or admiration”. 

Bruce wasn’t complimenting you when you convinced Damian not to pursue case leads by himself. He was simply tired of being the one to discipline his son over and over and over again.

Tim wasn’t complimenting you when you pried Damian off him, preventing an all-out brawl. He was just glad that the fight didn’t become serious enough to invoke a conversation with Bruce. 

And Alfred, sweet ol’ Alfred, wasn’t complimenting you when you persuaded Damian to join you for a nighttime excursion around town. He was worked to the bone, and only wanted one night to himself in the manor with minimal distractions. 

Their compliments were not compliments. They were transfers of responsibilities. Bless Damian - he was an honorable man, but stuck in his own ways, nonetheless. When you came around, Damian was poached onto you.

And you took that as a form of flattery. You thought it was because everyone understood that you and Damian were two peas in a pod, Bobbsey twins…friends. Best friends. So, it was natural for people to want to hand Damian over to you.

You were so utterly wrong. You simply had the best temperament and the most patience to deal with him. Nothing more, and nothing less. You were his unequivocal buffer to society. No one wanted to take accountability for his actions, so the task was transferred over to you.

“Oh no, he didn’t mean it like that,” you comforted Jason. “He’s just tired from patrol.”

“Please excuse his behavior. He’s had a bad day.” You slid the waitress a large cash tip.

“He does love you! He just has a funny way of showing it,” you said as you comfortingly patted his ex-girlfriend on the back. 

Excuses, excuses, excuses. You made so many excuses for him. You were unsure when exactly you fell into this…unique role, but it had become exhausting. You were longer just Damian’s friend - you had become so much more. Too much more. There was not a single word that could encompass the responsibilities that fell upon you. You were his therapist, his lackey, his moral compass, his PR firm, his friend, his supporter, and ultimately, his enabler. 

There has no doubt been some extra tension between the two of you recently. You’ve had arguments before, but they used to be few and far between. Lately, your temper flares at a moment’s notice. Your patience runs thin like sand between your fingers. There’s something tickling the back of your throat. There’s something you’ve been meaning to say to Damian, even if it falls on deaf ears. 

But you can’t. You’re…scared. It pains you to realize it, but Damian is violent. Not with his fists like he is with criminals. No, not like that at all. He’s violent with his words. They leave invisible scars that are only visible to you. If Damian has taught you anything, it’s that you’re not a strong person. Your mental state is like wet paper, floating on by until it meets the slightest force to rip it into shreds. 

You want to say something to him. It’s masochistic to continue living like this. But it feels like barbed wire surrounds your throat every time you attempt to be brave enough to say anything. 

It’s just you two out here on the grassy hill. Lately, your mind is a haze of anxiety and self-doubt. But for some strange reason, the night sky brings you and your cognizance a calming synergy. You lay shoulder-to-shoulder, your hands snug underneath your head, facing towards the starry night. Your hand travels from behind your head, stretching upwards, as if you could touch the stars above. It’s peaceful out here. It’s finally a moment of calm between you and Damian, which is much needed after weeks of brewing tension. 

Damian’s talking about a fight he had with Tim. You can hear his garbled voice in your ear, but your ringing ears mask most of the conversation. 

“He said I needed therapy,” he scoffs. “Like I haven’t heard that before.”

Your head rips to the side. Damian copies your movement to return your gaze.

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

You gulp nervously. “Need therapy. Do you…need therapy?”

“No,” he sneers. He lets out a taut chuckle. “I’m not crazy.”

You say absolutely nothing and continue to stargaze. You wonder what it would be like to be there – up there – and not down here. Not with Damian. Not even with yourself. Just…outside of it all. Outside of responsibilities. Outside of loyalties. 

You can sense Damian’s change in position. His once relaxed position is exchanged for a rigid, upright one. He’s still seated, but hovers over you. His eyes are sharply boring into your face. 

The alarm bells start to ring in your head. Panic arises from your stomach and burns into your esophagus. You did something wrong. You said something wrong. What did you do wrong this time?

“Do you think I need therapy?” 

Oh, no. Not this question. Anything, but this question. Has your mouth ever been this dry before?

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” you finally reply. Yeah, that’s a good response. Because it truly doesn’t matter what you think. Not to Damian, at least.

“Yes, it does,” he sharply corrects. 

“Damian, please, not tonight,” you groan. You mimic him by shifting your body into a seated position. “Let’s just relax.”

A few seconds pass before he replies. “I don’t need therapy,” he emphasizes.

Yes, you freaking do. But you don’t say that. At least not out loud. Your face on the other hand, reveals your innermost thoughts. 

He looks out into the distance. He wants to see anything, but your face.

“Damian, look,” you reach out to him, but he pulls back. The rejection leaves your hands burning, so you twiddle your fingers on your shirt instead. Your hands twist the cotton fabric, but despite his rebuff, you’d rather touch his scarred hands instead. “I’m not saying that you’re crazy. Alright? Going to therapy doesn’t mean that at all.”

“Might as well,” he interjects.

“No, Damian! Look, I love you. And because I love you, I have to say this. You asked what I thought earlier, and…” You trail off, unaware of how to finish the sentence. “I just think therapy would be good for you.”

“Damian,” you whisper as his silence greets you. You breathe in every molecule of air around you to gather the courage. “I’ve been going to therapy myself recently and it’s been help –“

“Therapy?” Damian whips his head towards you so quickly, an audible – POP! – resounds in the air from his neck joints. “Is everything alright with you?”

His concern with your wellbeing makes your beam internally. This is how Damian shows his love and affection. It’s short and simple, but oh, so sweet. It’s the little crumbs that he gave you that kept you coming back for more. 

“I’m fine, Damian.” You hold your hands to your chest for emphasis until you realize the dishonesty in your statement. Your hands drop into your lap. “Actually, I’m not. I’ve been dealing with some intense anxiety lately. Ya know, ‘catastrophizing’ or whatever my therapist calls it.”

Damian motions for you to continue. “I’m just really struggling.” Your voice quivers and you’re teetering on an emotional breakdown. “It’s honestly really hard. The panic attacks that I have sometimes…it feels like I’m dying in that moment.” A tear drops onto your hand, but you can’t even feel it. Your limbs are slowly turning numb, and your anxiety pushes outwards to become the center of your world. 

Damian’s voice chips at your withdrawal. He says your name and you ask him to repeat himself.

“What happened?” he grabs your hands tightly, protecting them from whatever forces that dare try to harm you. “Did something happen?”

You squeeze his hands to ground yourself. Talking about your mental health was new, even for you. But this is Damian, and if there is anyone you should talk to about it, it’s with him.

“I – I’m not sure,” you admit. “I can’t pinpoint where it all began. I just know that it’s this overwhelming feeling that I get. Like I can’t breathe.” You look up at Damian to stare into his mossy colored eyes. “My chest would burn, my stomach will twist into knots…my sleep schedule just goes out the window!”

You shake your head to clear your thoughts. What were you talking about? Therapy for Damian, right.

“All I’m saying is that it’s really helped me so far. With my anxiety. And I think it would help you, too. You have a lot of unresolved trauma from your childhood and even now. I mean, pummeling people’s heads in every night can’t be great for your mental health! Right?”

Damian yanks his hands away from yours in a fury. “I don’t need therapy.”

You smack your forehead with your hand. This is so typical. He’s so bullheaded that he refuses to be told what to do, even if it might be beneficial for him. 

“I’m not your mother, but –“

“You sure as hell aren’t,” he mutters under his breath.

“ – I can’t continue like this with you. You’re always looking for a fight or an argument. Why can’t you accept that you need help?”

“I don’t need help!” His tone becomes increasingly more strained. 

“Yes, you do! Everyone needs help, sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not you.” He stands up and pats his body down to rid himself of dirt and grass. “I don’t need to run to my little therapist after my order comes out wrong at a restaurant or – or – or when my boss doesn’t let me leave five minutes early. I can handle myself.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You stand yourself and puff your chest out. Your primal instinct to fight, flight, or freeze clearly chooses fight. You’re unsure why, as Damian could easily break you.

“You heard me.” He looks up and down in disdain.

It was as if someone poured ice cold water on you. The chill of your anger froze every inch of your body. You couldn’t shiver even if you wanted to. 

“You’re being mean, Damian,” you grit. Your teeth grind together, barely opening your mouth to speak to him. 

He rolls his eyes. “Maybe you’re just being too sensitive. I hope you and your therapist talk about me the next time you go.”

“You’re insufferable.” The nerve signals from your brain begin firing again. You move way too quickly, grabbing your personal items off the ground and walking away. Your head spins at just how fast you’re going, but you can’t bare to spend another second in his presence. 

You make it a few steps away before a hand grabs your upper arm. You spin to face Damian, again, so quickly that your world seems out of focus until you concentrate on his green eyes.

“Stop. Let’s just forget about all this.”

You violently shake your head. It’s too much. He’s too much. “No, Damian. Absolutely not. I have been belittled, disrespected, and humiliated by you for far too long.” You point an accusatory finger at him and step forward until it indents his shirt. 

He faintly calls your name, but you’re too far gone. Years of resentment has infected you until the pus could no longer be contained by your body. It oozes out as you look at him with fiery eyes and speak to him with a sharp tongue.

“You treat me like garbage when all I’ve ever done is love you!”

“I love you, too,” he insists, stepping towards you, driving your fingernail through his shirt and practically into his skin.

“I know you love me! Trust me, I know you do. Which is why it hurts even more. How can you love me and still hurt me like this? Why is this so easy for you?”

He pouts like a child, and if this was any other moment, you would comment on how cute he looked. This would be despite his insistence that he cannot be cute and instead should be referred to as “handsome”.

“I don’t know where all this is coming from,” he inquiries. “We were fine just ten minutes ago.”

“We haven’t been fine in a long, long time,” you seethe. “The way you speak to me…it’s just unbelievable. Everything I do or say is criticized. I can never be right about anything. It hurts to even be around you sometimes. It hurts to even breathe.”

You’re definitely crying. You can feel the tears pouring down your face, but your voice has never been so steady. The pang in your heart is so evident that you can practically feel it bleeding out.

Your chest heaves due to your incensed speech. This was a first. Sure, you’ve had fights with him before, but never like this. Your own anger surprised you. The feelings that swirled inside you were unfamiliar – was that hatred you felt? You weren’t sure if the hatred was directed to Damian or to yourself. Perhaps both. 

He reaches out to you. His arms are ready to engulf you and save you from yourself. But this time, you know better. You can see the mirage in front of you. 

“You need help,” you reiterate. “I can’t hold your hand any longer.”

His rescinds his arms quickly and throws his arms in the air dramatically. You scoff at his theatrical display. Damian has been known for his stoicism, but you knew he was quite melodramatic at his core. “You know what? Fine!”

“Fine!” you bite back.

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“Fin – you know what.” He paces back and forth with his hands on his hips. “I don’t need this.” He throws his hand up to silence you when you attempt to reply. “And I don’t need you.”

For a moment, you think a thunderstorm has rolled around, but you soon realize that the booming sound is coming from your own head in the form of a headache. The energy is zapped out of you suddenly and you can feel your genuine tiredness start to creep in. 

I don’t need you. 

His voice echoes in your head. You dryly laugh at his proclamation. “You don’t need me? Ha, nice joke. Real good one, Damian. You sure sounded like you needed me at that gala your dad dragged you to. The one where you begged me stay so that you could have company the entire night.”

Damian turns around with a shake of his head, but you’re not done with him. “What about when there’s nothing to do on patrol and you call me ‘cuz you’re bored? Huh?” You step around to face him again. 

It’s ironic that for someone who faced supervillains and low-life criminals every night, Damian sure was intimidated by your confrontation. 

“Ooh, how about when you cried in my arms when you saw Tim nearly bleed to death? Hmm? You sure looked like you needed me then.” 

There was no escaping your cutthroat stare and your steely words. Every word you spoke felt like a ton of bricks dropped off your shoulder to make room for your confidence. 

“So, tell me again, Damian. Look me in my eyes and tell me that you don’t need me.”

You’re somewhat shocked when he complies. He looks at you with the sweetest doe-eyes you’ve ever see. You don’t think you’ve ever been more intimately connected to him than in that moment. Despite the tension and the fury and the sadness of it all, you see him. 

Damian Wayne: the son of two dueling personalities, balancing two difference legacies on his shoulders. The only Robin who still hasn’t figured out how to escape the Robin persona. If that’s even what he wants to do. The boy who has so many role models to look up to – Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Jason, yes, even Tim, Stephanie, Cassandra – but can’t see the good in himself like he sees in others. The child who can’t seem to break through the glass ceiling that he installed for himself in an attempt to surpass the superheroes that came before him. He’s sensitive and insecure in the most intense ways possible. He's human, despite his attempts to turn off his humanity. 

And in a flash, the mask pulls up again. His emotions are replaced with an indifferent expression. The Damian that the rest of the world sees comes alive in that moment. It terrifies you at just how quickly he could put up a front. You used to think he had only one another persona – Robin, but watching him now, you see that he had more than one. There was Damian, and then there was the Damian that the world had become accustomed to.

He opens his mouth and his lips curl upwards mockingly. “I…” 

Oh, no. You were in for it now.

“Don’t…”

Please don’t, you pleaded. You were silent, but you were hoping that your eyes would express everything for you. 

“Need…”

Your eyes widen exponentially. You were simply challenging Damian, kind of how an amateur athlete defies an experienced one. It was just for the experience, but now, you were about to be humbled. 

“You.”

The stars bear witness to his cruelty. If they were living creatures, they’d probably shed a tear for you. But unluckily for you, there was no one to share your hurt and disappointment with. Unfortunately, that was all reserved for you. 

Well, I need you, you wanted to say. You wanted to scream it at him! I can’t live without you, you wanted to declare.

Although - it was getting kind of late. You just didn’t have it in you to continue the conversation. Your eyelids drooped dangerously low in exhaustion. Fighting with Damian was a subscription that you wanted to cancel, but could only be done in the messiest way possible.

You hold your hands up in defeat. If you had a white flag, you’d have waved it prominently. He didn’t try to stop you this time when you drifted away. You weren’t sure if you even wanted him to, but it still hurt, nonetheless. 

You can’t even remember how you made it home before stumbling into your room. Your bedtime routine was ignored for the comfort of your bed. 

Who are you without this man? Who are you without all this hurt? What was Damian to you now? You were unsure of how to answer these questions, but for now, you chose to close your eyes to escape your reality. 

Your body begins to float as it drifts deeper into sleep, dreaming of a familiar stranger with dark black hair and enchanting green eyes. You couldn't escape his grasp on you, even if you tried.

[canvas-the-florist]

The Imitation Game

Ship(s): Analogical

Warnings: Major Character Death and Undeath, body horror, blood and injury, unreliable narrator, misunderstandings, and morally ambiguous Emile Picani

Summary: This is a Big Bang fic hosted by @tss-storytime. After the consequences of someone else’s actions, Logan finds himself moving into a new apartment to lie low. Despite knowing nothing about what happened, or what’s supposed to happen next, Logan complies. That is, until he begins to make new friends and new discoveries about who he is. And who he was supposed to be. Meanwhile Virgil is convinced that Patton's new neighbor is absolutely a murderer. And will do anything to prove it. If you like this fic, I'm going to be posting the rest of the story on ao3. Here's the link.

Art was done by @tastic-in-its-finest and you can find it here!

Word Count: (for this chapter) 3k

Chapter One - Lungs

The first feeling, or experience rather, Logan has is unbridled anguish. He doesn’t remember much of it. His body gives him a sharp spike of electricity when he moves his neck, clearly as a result of what occurred. The shaking of their palms when they were made to look someone in the eyes. A fear he couldn’t place the origin of. Logan’s body felt wrong to exist in. It felt wrong to be there at all. His body feels as if it was dismantled and reattached slightly differently. Functional, but not the same. Logan had begun adjusting to the changes far quicker than his muscle memory could. It hurt to stand too long, a pain coming from his spine would trail its way to his legs, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Logan was reminded of this fact when one of their knees locked, and he forced himself to fall to the side so he could catch himself. His entire weight supported by one leg and his hands on the edges of the kitchen counter. Logan slowly led himself to sit on his couch, easing himself into a lying position. He took a slow, deep breath.

Breathing is a difficult sensation to get used to. It’s supposed to be constant, quiet, and easy. And yet it’s so integral to survival. Especially for a being with lungs. You have to breathe in oxygen, and out carbon dioxide. A consistent transfer of elements with your body holding the key to change. If you hold your breath, the carbon dioxide holds a heavy space in your lungs, poisoning the rest of your organs. If you breathe too quickly, risk tiring yourself out, and accomplishing nothing by speeding up the endless repetition. Both can lead to fainting or passing out. What a fickle way to live, to survive. 

So imagine Logan’s surprise that everyone around him could do this without thinking. This was normal. And he was not. Now was their chance to be just like the others, with working lungs, a working body, and a working heart. It wasn’t pleasant to feel constant changes within himself in a manner he couldn’t control. Nothing could truly be perfectly measured or predicted or controlled. Logan pressed his left thumb pad against his right index finger, cradling the right hand softly, and felt the small ridges of fingerprints conflict with their paths next to each other. This was one of the new sensations they didn’t mind. He did this while reminding himself to breathe, concerned that his judgment would lapse and he would simply die too early on in his existence. Logan thought about feeling, and if he had enough time to get used to the stimulus he didn’t used to have access to. A sudden flash of pain went past his neck, causing him to suddenly tilt his head to the left. He exhaled loudly, with a shudder, to keep his composure. Logan didn’t know a lot about social conventions but screaming every time he felt an ounce of discomfort definitely did not fit that criteria. However, he was new to the apartment complex, so perhaps that was actually acceptable and he would have to discover that later. 

Logan wanted to get this all under control within the next ten minutes, though he wasn’t accurately able to tell how long he had been laying down when the static that seemed to follow him blocked his vision. Breathing was still difficult. Still present. A reminder that they were failing their objective already. That this wasn’t going to plan. He was going to die on day one. Despite the severity of everything Logan felt (he FELT things now), he wasn’t allowed to give up. That was explicitly against the rules. 

With the overpowered conviction of doing what he was told, Logan laid on the couch silently. A pain in his lungs, a throbbing in his head. Well, technically the pain was coming from his nerves sending signals to his… brain. Logan frowned, almost pulled from the sensation of his lungs being crushed by a hydraulic press by the reminder. His brain. Logan still didn’t fully understand how he worked, even if he knew the components that made him up. They desperately wanted to. Just to know. Logan enjoyed learning. He didn’t know a lot about himself, but he knew that. Logan wanted to learn.

He pressed the palms of his hands against his closed eyes, somehow that specific type of pressure alleviated the pain. There was a knock on his door after a few minutes. It was his first day living in this apartment. Logan was told to expect greetings from neighbors, in some regard. But this felt overwhelming still. 

Logan ignored them.

The next day was filled with duller pain, but still ever present. His neck creaked loudly as he tilted his head from side to side. Logan had to leave the apartment today. This was something he always knew he had to do, but didn’t know if he wanted to. Well, he did know. He absolutely wanted to stay hidden away from the world for the rest of time. But… Logan turned on his phone, to reread the message he had gotten. Emile wanted to see him, and they were going to meet up at a café. His text was… long and hard to parse through. Even though Logan had trouble discerning tone a majority of the time, they got the sense that Emile was more excited about this than Logan would be able to be. After looking at themself in the mirror for entirely too long, washing the dried blood from his neck, and getting dressed, he left the apartment. Logan struggled locking the door, having to try about six times, and just hoped that no one would notice long enough for him to appear normal. 

He was on the second floor, defined by a walled off balcony wrapping around the exterior of the building to connect each apartment to a shared space. Logan was about to reach the stairs down when a man walked into him. Or perhaps it was his fault, it was hard to tell really. Logan stepped back, almost affronted by the contact. The person was tall, with thin and long box braids wrapped in a bun. He had rectangle glasses with rounded edges and a smile on his face. It made Logan instantly uncomfortable looking anywhere near his eyes, so they looked away.

“Howdy!” … What? The man continued. “Sorry for bumping into you, that’s my bad. You’re the one who just moved in right? What’s your name?”

This was possibly worse than everything Logan had ever experienced. He wasn’t entirely sure how high (metaphorically) that bar was, but it was probably significant. Logan didn’t respond for a few awkwardly silent seconds. They coughed, preparing his throat to speak. “I’m… I did just move in, yes. My name is Logan. Logan Clay.” Was he doing this right? How were you supposed to tell? The man was still looking at him like he expected something. Logan went through all they remembered from practicing. Oh! Right… “What’s your name?”

“The name’s Patton Nasir, neighbor!” He reached out his hand, looking… concerned(?) when Logan instinctively flinched away. Patton quickly retracted his hand before Logan even said anything about it, placing it gracefully on his hip. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Logan! I live just next door. 214. So if you need help with anything, I’m always there for you.”

Was this genuine? Was there a way to tell? Logan just nodded. “Thank you, Patton. I’ll be sure to contact you if such a situation arises. I have to go now.”

Patton laughed. Logan just stared slightly to the left of his face, almost simulating true eye contact with his neighbor. “Of course, I didn’t mean to keep you, buddy. I hope you have a good day!”

He waved and walked past Logan, who just stood there as the conversation left the air, reminding themself to breathe. His neck still hurt, as if his splenius capitis would burn whenever he moved his head. Logan shook his head, despite knowing the action only exacerbated the pain. Logan finally got to continue walking to meet Emile, walking down the concrete stairs with a sense of urgency. He made sure to look at the directions on his phone so he wouldn’t get lost. Perhaps he looked at them a little too frequently. It took just about ten minutes and forty three seconds to reach the café. A local establishment with a patio that contained three tables. Two of those three had striped umbrellas over them. 

Emile was sitting at the table holding a disposable cup with a lid, presumably filled with coffee. It was as much of a relief as a great anxiety to finally see him. Logan walked up to the table with a sense of urgency that wasn’t shared with their companion. Emile smiled easily, his scrunched nose lightly displacing his glasses. 

“Hello, Logan! Do you how do?” He greeted.

If this were any other individual, Logan would be concerned at the nonsensical manner he held himself with. But this was Dr. Emile Picani, the only person he truly knew. The only person who knew… Logan. Himself. Logan nodded. “I’m doing adequate, Emile. Should I… order something too?”

“Not if you don’t want to.” Emile responded simply. “Did you have breakfast yet?”

Logan froze. He did a mental check of his body. His neck screaming (metaphorically), his hands still shaking, his stomach… People were supposed to eat regularly. He knew that. Logan was told that, and they knew that they had to do that too. Fuck. “I have not had breakfast yet.”

Somehow, Emile could read his tone, even when Logan himself could not. He frowned. “Logan… have you eaten anything since you left the hospital yesterday?”

“I drank water.” He supplied, as if that was a perfect substitute.

Emile stood up, the metal chair screeched loudly, and suddenly Logan had to resist the urge to drag his nails through the skin of his ears. “Let’s get you some coffee.”

Who was Logan to disobey? Emile ordered for him, and assured him of what he had gotten. Black coffee and a simple sandwich. They sat back down together. Logan drank the bitter drink, but mostly because it was expected of them. Despite the casual setting, the public atmosphere, this was a meeting. Logan knew that. Emile was acting like this because Logan didn’t know how to act yet. He appreciated it immensely. Logan started eating the sandwich, with dry bread and bland ingredients. 

“I’m glad you liked it. You… You used to order this same thing every morning.” Emile looked down, with a smile, but Logan didn’t think he was actually happy. “Anyways! Have you made any new friends yet or unpacked yet?”

Logan swallowed his food, setting his sandwich back down. He felt all the different components of his neck conflict with one another, reminding him of the constant searing pain that had incapacitated him the day before. A pain that wasn’t supposed to be there. “No, I haven’t. I thought… I was supposed to keep a low profile?”

It came out like a question, because he felt as though Emile’s questions contradicted the prior instructions he had given. Keep a low profile. Keep the secrets. Stay hidden. Were they intended to balance those objectives with a social life? Interior design? Logan reminded himself to breathe at a consistent pace. That was a lot of rules to uphold all at once, but he could do it. Emile expected them to, and they wouldn’t want to let him down. Not after all he had done for them. Emile just looked confused, similar to how Logan… felt. Hm.

“Logan, I don’t want to keep you from making new connections!” Emile exclaimed, his voice filled with a worry Logan didn’t understand. “Besides, an empty apartment and a lone hermit is… a little more suspicious than, say, hiding in plain sight like Constantine from Muppets Most Wanted.”

He gave back a blank stare. 

“Yeah… I don’t think you’ve ever seen that movie, even before everything.” Emile admitted. “I just mean: it’s going to be better for everyone if you settle down a little bit more, and nurture new friendships with your neighbors. You need to establish friendships and trust or… Or none of this is going to work. Or at least try! If nothing works out, you’ll still be meeting with me here every week! We can figure stuff out.”

It was reassuring, knowing that he wasn’t alone. Logan didn’t really know much about what to do or what he should be like. But Emile did. He really needed the guidance. “Thank you, Emile. I appreciate that. I will… ‘settle down’, when I am able.”

His friend smiled at him, with a type of pride Logan didn’t feel. He was mostly scared of what was going to happen to him. Emile smiled at him like everything was already going perfectly. It wasn’t exactly lying, but it was optimistic. Even though it was confirmation that the two were in this together, Logan still felt uncomfortable.

Emile left first, having the obligations of a job. He was working part time at a lab while he worked on his psychology degree. Logan… had a job. It was more freelance. They didn’t start until the next day. Logan collected the leftover dishes and trash, walking back inside to put them where they belonged. The plates went on a stack of other dishes also used that day, while the trash went into the nearest trash receptacle. He looked around, as if someone was there to tell him he did a good job. The only person there was a barista with sunglasses on scrolling on vaer phone with minimal interest. Vaey looked up at Logan, raising an eyebrow. Logan felt uncomfortable instantly and decided to leave. 

They spent the rest of the day organizing their new living space. The boxes didn’t contain a whole lot. Emile told him that he would have to go shopping on his own to accommodate anything that was missing. Logan suspected that Emile got him a job for that exact reason. So they could be more self-sufficient. Ironic, that Logan wouldn’t be able to do any of this without him. Logan thought this over while figuring out where to put their skillets and pans. He eventually took a break to eat, something he was determined not to forget again. Logan hadn’t cooked much before so settled for an oatmeal mix that Emile had packed him. They were not a big fan of the flavor. They ate it anyway. Logan had finished washing the two dishes he had used when someone had knocked on the door. His headache, well all of his aches really, were still bothering him profusely. But he was supposed to make connections right? 

Patton was holding a ziploc bag when Logan opened the door. The man was smiling, as if it was his default expression. He held it out to them. “I meant to give these to you yesterday, but… I’m giving them to you now! They’re chocolate chip cookies so I can take them back if you’re gluten free or allergic to chocolate or-”

He was just as nervous as Logan was. It didn’t seem to click until that moment. Logan took the back from his hands and looked up at Patton. “Thank you, for welcoming me to the neighborhood. You seem like a kind person, Patton.”

They didn’t really intend to cut off whatever Patton was talking about, but he didn’t particularly seem to mind. “Of course, thank you for the compliment! We’re going to start a whole chain of ‘thank you’s if we keep this up. I can’t wait to get to know you.”

Patton left after that, but what he had said ringed in Logan’s ears. 

I can’t wait to get to know you.

He repeated this as he got dressed for bed. He repeated it as he brushed his teeth. As he stared into the mirror for too long. As they put their glasses on the box they were using as a nightstand. Logan couldn’t wait to know himself too. They reminded themself to breathe, and continued to do so until it became even again. I can’t wait to get to know you. What a polite, kind thing to say to a stranger. 

Logan took a long deep breath in as he dug his fingers into the back of his neck. He gagged, feeling himself breathe heavier and faster. The skin between his spine and skull shifted to make room for the change. They searched around the blood and nerves, until latching to a specific cord. It resisted his grasp as Logan repressed the urge to flail. Clawing, clawing, clawing. He pulled the cord out slowly, feeling it rake against his organic matter. It collected blood as the end finally surfaced. Logan took a heavy breath, letting himself collapse forwards. A second was needed to catch his breath, to calm themself down. He wiped the blood off the cap protecting the end, before taking it off. Logan then plugged the cord into the glowing box underneath his bed. They felt the jolt of electricity enter their body as the cord began glowing a soft orange that mirrored the box.

Laying on their side, facing away from the box, was the only comfortable way to sleep. Not that they imagined they would do much of that. Despite trying, Logan didn’t feel fully human. Because he wasn’t, not really. Not like Emile, not like Patton. But he did wonder. Would this ever stop hurting? Would he ever stop hurting? Being a human was constantly being in pain. At least, that’s what it seemed like. Logan attempted to halt their thinking as they ignored the heat emanating from their neck, and the frantic breaths drawn for their lungs.

AO3 Link Here!

Taglist: @amateurmasksmith @phoenixtfc @snowynb @hydrastefishere @part-time-zombie @blueberryraccon

[yojeongin]

happy together | m.l + l.dh [FINALE]

→husband!lee haechan x reader x bff!mark lee

genre: smut, angst, hurt, marriage au, love triangle, forbidden affair, friends to secret lovers, 90s/00's au

synopsis: with you by his side, mark's convinced things are finally going his way. his mind is set on his plans but haechan has plans of his own that also include you.

warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! toxic marriage, mutual infidelity, morally grey characters, jealousy, distrust, possessiveness, fingering, finger sucking, unprotected sex, public sex, oral sex, mild sadomasochism, hair pulling and scratching kink, accidental voyeurism, biting kink, pet names, lots of making out, manipulation, all parties purposely hurting each other, smoking, mentions of death.

wc: 29.5k+ || soundtrack || ao3

part 1 | epilogue

© 2023 YOJEONGIN all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works on other social media’s. reblogs are HIGHLY appreciated and preferred!

disclaimer: this is purely fictional; in no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol, these are ONLY characters. read at your own discretion.

an: legend says ella y yo by don omar y romeo santos was made after hyuck confronted mark about the affair lmfao. ik I said morally grey but... they border on evil atp kinda. the epilogue will be mark centered, there's no hyuck or happy together yn but mark's actions there will be consequences of what happens to him here. don't be confused it will be mark x reader just know epilogue yn isn't the same as happy together yn lol.

The leaves had long fallen by the time you and Mark continued what started that afternoon at the lake. From early October to late December with a few days left of 1999, all that’s left is the inquiry of how the year would end. 

But right now that didn’t matter to either you or him. Not when he had you perched on the counter. The cold ceramic against your ass makes you squeal with every single one of his thrusts. His upper half was bare. Shoulders littered with red marks from your fingernails and teeth prints elicited by his every stroke.

Mark felt swollen and warm inside you. Every movement made the both of you hyper-sensitive knowing an orgasm was soon to come. Your clothed upper half absorbing all his sweat and yours. Almost rasping his chest to a burning extent but he doesn’t complain, as long as you’re close. 

His breath tickled your neck; the hairs on your nape stood whenever his lips landed on the flesh; restraining themselves from juvenile markings. Your lips parted whenever his teeth nipped the skin. His tongue eased the slight pain from his actions to repeat them until you pulled his head by his hair, bringing his mouth to yours. 

With every tug of his hair, Mark’s pace increased and your whining became louder; pulling your hips closer to his. His hands were warm against you, perspiration making his clinging easy. Soft to the touch and in need of more. 

“Fuck I’m going to—“ he halted, feeling spurts come out in strings while you held him closer to you. “Yeah?” You ask, kissing the side of his face. Your insides coil in pleasure with every thrust along the friction of his pelvic bone against your clit. 

“I’m going to cum!” He exclaimed, holding even tighter to you. Every time you two found yourself in this situation he held you like this, scared that if he didn’t you’ll feel like he didn’t need you enough. Almost as a tactic to make you crave his touch and affection. 

You caressed his hair, hand dropping its grip to let your fingers cradle his head as he thrusts within you. Pistoning at a cruel pace but anything for either of you to reach your highs. Feeling him within your walls, touching every crevice with his cock. 

In a matter of seconds with a few more thrusts from him, you felt yourself come undone. Your moans mixed with whines that he swallowed when slotting his lips with yours, ensuing in a sloppy kiss. He came second, pulling out when he felt he couldn’t hold off anymore and ropes of cum latched themselves onto your thighs. 

Even after, he didn’t pull away from you. His left arm wrapped around your shoulder and his right around your waist, grasp as tight as before. Yours was loose on him, arms trembling while trying to cool off; Breathing heavily against his bare hot skin. 

It was then that it dawned upon you two that the buzzer and the home phone were ringing maniacally. You tried pushing him off to see who was this desperate to get in touch but he didn’t budge. His fingers only dug into you. Your eyes widened at his actions. This has become quite normal in the past months that you’re starting to accept it but not too fond of it. 

The home phone that stopped ringing and his own abandoned one beside the both of you began with anger rooted in. Mark swallowed the lump that had gotten stuck in his throat when seeing the caller ID. He threw you a glance, putting his finger up to his lips as advice. 

“Hyuck? What’s up, dude?” His hand pushed you closer to him. 

“Where the fuck are you guys at? I’ve been calling, ringing the buzzer, leaving voicemails, even paging you both, and not one response. What the fuck?” 

He paced around feeling defeated by the cold; phone to his ear gripping it without a fear that the plastic would pop off. You could hear him; so much anger in his voice, exasperation from the unknown. That desperation made your insides flip, satisfied with his frustrations. 

“Oh sorry, we’re in the room working on a piece. The music was all the way up.” Mark‘s fingers began caressing your skin, hoping you’d make a noise but nothing came out of you. He wasn’t lying about the music or the piece but that was long before you two had decided to act on any carnal instincts.

“Can one of you buzz me in? it’s fucking cold and there’s no one in the lobby. I couldn’t find my keys in the morning either.” His chattering teeth product of this horrid winter in the city. His words had made you realize the bathroom window was open and along the honking of cars outside, the biting breeze entered in swirls. Piercing your exposed skin the longer Mark held you there while working to remove the smell of sex. 

“Uh, yeah— yeah, give us a few secs to wash off. It got messy, ha.” He looked at you, but your eyes were nowhere insight. “Alright, plea—“ Mark didn’t let him finish. He ends the call, tossing the phone towards the wall and letting the already chipped-off paint smear itself more. 

He didn’t move; cooling down before he was to let you go and begin to clean off. Looking into the mirror behind you. Mark didn’t want to admit it but he was beginning to hate the act of sneaking around and fucking his best friend’s wife on the time windows he wasn’t home. It didn’t help that after a month, Hyuck was coming home earlier than usual, decreasing his time with you. 

Mark knew he shouldn’t have gotten attached. Even when he used the excuse of Hyuck being a complete shit to you; on a moral scale, Mark would be in the wrong too. Especially when you’re his childhood best friend’s wife.

But with all that moral guilt, Mark wasn’t sorry for being with you. He loved the feeling he got when sneaking around. He loves when he’s buried deep in you, hearing you moaning, and whining for his touch. He loved knowing you smiled and laughed because of him and not because of Hyuck who would only cause your mood to deteriorate. 

Yet with how much he loved all that, he hated that you were still Hyuck’s despite how much Mark told himself you were his. His piercing hatred-filled glare through the mirror and towards himself said it all. 

With one last push at his chest, Mark separated himself from you. He watched you clean off his dried cum in a rush, complaining about how much of a hassle it was. Pulling out body wipes to remove the lingering smell of sex and sweat off of you; leaving no sign behind for him to see. 

Mark watched you through glaring eyes. With every passing second he stood bare before you, his chest compressed. Feeling his emotions trying to suffocate him more and more. Reality did its best to make him see the bigger picture he’s avoiding. In addition he receives your exasperated hand motions and expressions for him to get out of the way and start getting cleaned up. 

The door was left ajar on your way out. He could see from the slit your jumpy steps to spray yourself with perfume after changing shirts and the house with a spray that sat on the kitchen counter after buzzing in Hyuck. 

When he saw you coming closer to the bathroom again, a sort of relief washed over him but it was taken away when you harshly closed the door. Depriving him of what you’re doing to make the apartment comfortable for him: your husband. 

He stood motionless for a second. The surrounding noise filled his understanding of what was behind that door. A timer was ticking in his head, the tapping of your shoes replaced the ticking. Every second became louder and his chest trembled knowing the outcome. 

Mark heard his breath, shaky and unstable while his eyes widened. The scent of air freshener crept in through the bottom slit of the door. Filling his nostrils the second he heard the front door shut; that loud boom shutting off the timer. 

He sighed heavily, eyes shutting tight while simultaneously lowering his head in frustration. The muffled words of the pair pushed him further into these deep feelings he was harboring. 

“God fucking damn it.” He curses, enticed by the sound of your voice calling Hyuck ‘honey’. His head turned towards the door, jaw clenching but that’s all he could really do. At the end of the day he was living under his roof and eating his food. 

He reached for a hand towel, wetting it to pay away the staining sweat and dry cum that lay on his thighs. Pent-up frustration still lingered, enough to toss it with too much force into the hamper as he put his clothes back on.

Mark leaned over the counter again, mimicking the position the both of you were in before his best friend’s arrival. He still felt your warmth, it always lingered around. His gaze fixates on itself through the mirror. 

That noticeable damage stress causes slapped on his face, muscles visibly tense. All his thoughts were the same lately: You. That's all he thought about. Whether it was positive or negative, you’re the only one crowding his thoughts.

He takes a hold of the doorknob, a soft sound emitting that causes Hyuck to turn towards the closed room. You don’t turn to it, fixated on flipping through the channels of the television. Your hand on your hip, and some small humming slipping along. 

He was aware of the hesitance of the one behind the door. Becoming alert, he raised himself from the couch. Enough to not draw attention from you, when he saw that the knob was turning and the door was now ajar; his hands took a hold of your waist pulling you towards him. 

While Mark looked at the happenings before him with disdain, you dismissed the older male. Laughing with your husband about him startling you; complaining about the lingering pain from his grasp. He held you tightly, back to his chest, and for once in the past years, he felt comfortable. 

For the past month or so things had been going too good to be true with Hyuck. At the beginning in which you and Mark began this rendezvous, you both continued to bicker and argue with hopes of completely ruining each other. As time progressed, you stopped inciting arguments with him. You still wanted his downfall to continue but for now, ignorance was bliss.

You ignored him and kept the peace for the most part, too tired to continue the cycle he still tried to keep up. It was comfortable at this point. But when he began to feel foolish and embarrassed that you didn’t continue or follow along, he took it as a small victory, a glance that things were turning for the better. Quite honestly he felt good, not feeling neglected anymore was nice.

But Hyuck was no stupid man. With something like that, there’s always an underlying factor. Especially when it comes to your mercy. Though his inkling began the night of your anniversary dinner, he began to notice the lingering touches. And at times you still argued you’d always run off to Mark’s room, refusing to get out. Making him drag Mark towards your shared room so he wouldn’t sleep in the same room as you. 

Though he never actually caught either of you doing anything. That pang in him worsened as the days progressed. And seeing how much you preferred being around his best friend was killing him. He hated seeing how you laughed and had a conversation with Mark but not him. 

He hated seeing you smile at Mark but become cold whenever Hyuck came home. It didn’t help that you always smelled like Mark. Whenever he arrived, the smell was prominent enough that it even intoxicated him when you two slept. 

He began coming home earlier in late November. Always pretending to fumble with the keys to give you both time to become decent if he was to catch you. But every time he opened those doors you’d be in the kitchen or lounging on the couch. Alone. 

Those times he’d sigh in relief. Eyes searching for Mark just to find him on the balcony smoking with a look of angst that kept getting worse as days passed by. He felt foolish each time, angry at himself for doubting you both of ever betraying him. Only he was sick enough to ruin you, he should know better than to think of you in that light. 

But it never got easier. Jealousy is consuming him daily even when he keeps telling himself there’s nothing to worry about. His jealousy is not too different from Mark’s. While Hyuck might enjoy your affection and present love, Mark was hating how quickly you changed the roles. Now it was him you treated like worthless trash and only had around for a quickie. If anything he now felt neglected.

“Did you find your keys?” Mark asks, settling on the free couch across from you. Hyuck turns to him, his smile falters. Both men ported that subtle defiant glare with each other. He shakes his head, turning from him to you, and presents you with a smile, making one of your own form too. 

He liked this. This was comforting even if he knew nothing ever lasts between you two.

“Haven’t looked for them yet.” He answers, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. He pauses for a second to glance at Mark again. His scent strongly lingered on you even if you thought the perfume could drown it out.

Mark looks at you momentarily, hoping you’d decide to get out of Hyuck’s grasp to at least show some care but that was wishful thinking. “You should’ve rung other tenants, they probably would’ve let you up.” He remarks of his long wait, turning to the TV in hopes it would aid him in ignoring you both. 

He hated this, it was unbearable.

“I guess.” You look between both of them, repositioning your legs on Hyuck’s lap and hooking your arms around his neck. He holds you tightly, hands taking a grip of your thighs and waist. Mark tried not to see the way he caressed you. His fingers glided over the fabric of your skirt and looked at you as he teased the idea of them going under.

Getting fed up from your quiet giggles and his best friend, Mark stood up ready to head towards the rooftop but Hyuck stopped him. “Where are you going?” Mark looked between his hand and your face, seeing how you did nothing to avoid his gaze. “Smoke, why?” His foot begins to jitter the longer he remains there. 

“Let’s eat first. I have some news. ” Hyuck answers, helping you both off the couch. His hand clutches yours, pulling you towards the dinner table. Mark followed suit, sitting across you while boring daggers into your eyes as Hyuck warms up the food that had gotten cold in the trance of waiting. 

“Are they bad ones?” Mark questioned, glare not dropping trying to figure out if it was disinterest or guilt in your mirroring gaze. “You’re home earlier than recently and even brought food.” 

Haechan granted him a chuckle, the microwave’s buzzing muffling it. “You can’t let anything slide.” Shaking his head, your husband took the seat beside you. “Not bad at all actually.” 

Mark didn’t seem to enjoy the answer, opting to gather the drinks. While it went unnoticed by Hyuck, you couldn’t help but feel the hostility weighing down on your shoulders. To ease that, you decided to pry for an answer as well. 

“No but actually, why are you home earlier?” You ask, preparing his plate despite his protest. This was so different that the quick change-up still felt foreign to all of you but mainly Mark. It’s almost mimicking the life you two had while newly weds.

He turns to you with a stoic look, swallowing the piece in his mouth. “Why? You don't want me to? Was I interrupting something?” You muster a nervous laugh, kissing his cheek to deflect. “Not really. We were working on last-minute touch-ups for Mrs. Oh’s commission.” You squeeze his hand and elicit him to smile in return, dropping the hostility. 

“I know it’ll turn out great.” Oh, he was so full of shit and you knew it. He can act all he wants but his feelings towards your art will never change. “How’s the painting going, Mark?” His focus shifts to the quiet man. Mark had that same angry look plastered on his face, obvious that he wasn’t enjoying himself. 

“Good. Your wife is of great help.” He raised his beer bottle, guzzling the liquid as if his life depended on it, without a care for his liver. Hatred seemed to be the only thing that filled your husband’s body upon the sentence spilling from Mark’s mouth.

His slow chewing and persistent glare towards the older male made this tense dinner worsen. “That she is.” His voice had deepened when the words cascaded. It was ruining your night how obvious they were being. But if they weren’t going to act upon it and grant you entertainment, then you’ll have to shift that tension.

“Hyuck, you never answered my question.” You turn to him, dropping your grip from the fork and leaning back on the chair rest. “Right, well. I’ve been working with them for a while–”

“You’re quitting?!”

“Let me finish, love.”

He grins trying to hide his dissatisfaction with your interruption. His hand takes a hold of yours, squeezing it. “I’ve been overworking myself. Working overtime to the point it’s been a big reason our marriage is the way it is…” You don't meet his gaze, it drops just like your stomach knowing what he could mean. 

Not only does it cause sadness but it also irks you that he’d drop that in front of Mark. Sure he knew you guys weren’t doing good but why bring it up now that you’re both ignoring it?

Regardless he continues. “What I’m getting at is that I have some hours accumulated and I’m taking three months off.” Both you and Mark turned to him startled. Three months was a lot for a simple vacation and when you think about it, he’s not that pleasant when he has free time at hand.

“That’s a lot of time, Hyuck. What do you even plan on doing?!” He could hear the concern in your voice, you still weren’t ready to see him day and night. Mark seemed to have your sentiment at heart. He too was thinking of how awkward and uncomfortable things will be with him at home. 

Yet all Hyuck could do was laugh wholeheartedly until it turned dry and low, glaring at you both. “You two don’t seem to want me around.” His fork hits the plate with a loud thud, your eyes rolling at his attitude. Just when things were nice, he always had to sneak in his tantrums. 

“It’s not that, you just haven’t had time to yourself in so long. What do you even plan on doing?” At that second Mark felt warm. The tone in your voice reminded him of how you would talk to Hyuck months prior. It gave him hope that you two would cut the crap and go back to argument after argument. At least then you'd run to him for comfort. 

Donghyuck pouted, nodding in agreement. “Yeah... That’s why we’re going on a trip.” He pats your thigh, a smile creeps on his face. “A family friend has allowed me to use one of their homes. I thought it’d be nice to spend New Years there since we spent Christmas here.” He looked around for a reaction, a little annoyed that neither gave him one. 

“Well?” He raised an eyebrow, smile faltering. 

“When do you guys leave?” Mark questions, a dumbfounded expression on his face. Hyuck pressed his lips together with a twinge of guilt the longer he looked at his friend. Has the hostility been so bad that he's not including himself? Well… Mark’s best interest wasn’t that at heart.

“Tomorrow and you're going too.” He points his finger for visualization. In the second Hyuck’s gaze drops to search for his napkin, Mark and you both turn to each other. Mark questioned what would be of this relationship while you wondered what your husband was planning or if he truly was clueless. Nonetheless, the biggest concern was how your little game would continue with Hyuck around 24/7 now. 

Donghyuck’s plans only seemed to interfere with Mark’s. Even more now that he was thinking about all the things he planned on revealing as a surprise. Mark didn’t have three months. In fact, at the beginning of the year he had to start moving into his new apartment. Having you two help him move in was going to be the reveal but now everything was ruined. 

“Are you okay?”

Your genuine concern broke both of them out of their trances. Mark turned to you with his big round eyes, feeling his chest warm again; in awe of your simple actions. Hyuck’s chewing slowed down when he looked between you and Mark; confused and scared at the same time. 

“Mark?”

“Um… yeah it’s just–” 

Fuck he missed hearing you say his name endearingly. 

In that instance he gave you a sly smile, scratching his head in discomfort. “I actually can’t stay the whole three months.” A sort of apology settled in his eyes knowing you're both confused. 

“I already found an apartment and I wanted it to be a surprise for you guys when I start moving in… I get the keys on the second.” He chuckles nervously, avoiding your gaze but turning to his best friend.

You knew that day would come. In fact, your fear of him leaving is what led to both of you starting this affair. Yet you didn’t think it would be this soon. What was once hostility between your husband and his best friend now transferred between you and Mark. 

Maybe you didn’t care too much that he was leaving anymore but you did care that he hid something that big from you. It’s like he didn’t know you at all. Surprises were never your thing and if he had pulled that on you when the time came, you’d be absolutely furious with him.

“Did they give you hell for the working situation?” Hyuck’s voice interfered with your internal monologue, turning your gaze from Mark to him. “Kind of… I mean I’ve shown them proof of freelancing with the paintings and even if that wasn’t enough, I’ve managed to get Taeyong’s help in being a co-signer for payments. Just until I finally settle with the artist studio.”

“It’ll be sad to see you go. Right, y/n?”

“Right.”

“So does that mean you’ve gotten a job?” Hyuck excitedly questions, forgetting the remainder of his meal. Mark’s body sways at the mention, a smile forming on his lips. “Yeah…” He spoke, trying his best to not seem too excited. 

While the two seemed to be celebrating, your mood had soured. He found an apartment and chose his location but didn’t tell you any of it and then complains that you’ve changed. He truly wasn’t any better.

“What location?”

“Huh?”

Hyuck hums in confusion, seeing your expression. “I want to know what location he chose. Yasuki gave him two options. So which one?” There your husband lets out a confused chuckle, shaking his head and leaning back on the chair. “Why haven’t I heard of this?” He laughs a bit more, pushing his plate away from him.

“Because you’re never home.” Your hostility was ruining the night now. What started with them was ending with you. It was not helping Hyuck’s feelings when it came to you and his best friend. When he thought it was a simple delusion, your reaction to knowing Mark was leaving left a bitter taste in his mouth to the point he was blaming the meal.

Mark cleared his throat, sitting up straight. “I’m going to give digital work a try. So that studio— it’s an hour away.” He gulped turning to you in fear of how you’d react. It wasn’t that far from each other but you still weren’t processing that he was going to leave you. 

An awkward air surrounded the three of you. While Hyuck went back to eating and you played with your food at this point, Mark cleared his throat trying to rid of that anger that filled him earlier. As much as he despises your recent treatment, it pained him more to see you sad because of him.

“So, what time do we leave tomorrow?” 

“Not too early. There’s still some errands I have to run before we leave the apartment alone.”

Hyuck lifts his head, answering Mark before rising from his seat. “Are you done?” Your voice cuts through. You were used to him leaving the table whenever but you didn’t want to be alone with Mark right now. At most you knew he’d cling to you as a means to ask for forgiveness and you didn’t want to deal with it.

He hums, taking his plate and washing the remains himself. It’s been a while since he’s done anything to help around the house. The action alone causes some irritation with you despite knowing you should be glad. “I’m waking up early tomorrow so if you excuse me I’ll go wash up and sleep after the game.”

Making his way to the bedroom and soon after back out to the bathroom; Hyuck closed the door behind him feeling that chilly breeze from the open window. Everything seemed fine but an ominous feeling enveloped him upon looking at himself in the mirror. The light fixture above emits a green hue to compliment the dark tiles. 

He couldn’t point his finger at it but being in this space and in the position of him leaning against the counter was causing that ache in his chest again. If he remained any longer he could see himself form scenarios in which he wouldn’t be happy and he rather not disrupt the peace you all reside in. For now at least.

As soon as Hyuck turned on the shower, Mark joined him in opening the faucet to finish washing the dishes. “Just leave them there.” Your monotonous voice filled his ears. Head turned to you with a hum as he scrubbed the last remaining utensils.

“I'm already finished, don’t worry about it.” He tried smiling. “Jesus fucking christ seems like everyone can do things themselves now.” You didn’t give him time to respond, opting to walk towards the living area. Flipping through the channels to get some watch time before Hyuck either forced you to watch the match or subtly shoo you away. 

Mark looked at you dumbfounded. He knew you were upset with him, enough to make him regret ever not telling you the news when he heard them. To an extent Mark knew you didn’t like things being hidden from you (though you adored hiding things from them). But he had justified his actions by hoping you’d be ecstatic by the time the reveal came. 

In his mind, he pictured you happily helping him move into his new apartment. Happy to see him finally start his life all over again with hopes this time he wouldn’t fail. Sometimes he wished you’d end up moving in with him. Leaving Hyuck and this faux persona you’re both creating nowadays. 

But by the looks of how you’re taking in the news, he should’ve planned better. Things between you two became complicated and mostly carnal. So he’s been trying to avoid making you upset but nothing was working. He was becoming a burden to you in his eyes and he was starting to feel frightful. 

“I’m going to go smo—“

“You do that.”

Your fingers threaded through your hair like his had earlier, not granting him even a direct look. Cutting him off after deciding to just watch the remaining minutes of the match before the one Hyuck wanted to watch.  

Mark’s mouth was left ajar, speechless at how easily you blew him off without remorse. This same thing has become quite recurrent every time he upsets you and as much he tries not to, each time you leave him feeling useless to the point he’s stuck to your hip doing anything you want.

He nods in disappointment, taking his box of cigarettes and keys, making his way to the rooftop. With the door closing behind him, you sigh in annoyance with what life is bringing your way. 

By half time, Mark had come back ignoring that bubbling jealousy as you caressed an angry Haechan whose body you enveloped as comfort given his team was losing. Three hours later he had woken from his slumber to the faintest sound of the television still on in the living room. 

Curious and with a dry throat, Mark stood from the bed making his way to the living room, opening the door as quietly as he could. 

“Today through this exclusive TV offer you can get twelve fascinating issues of Zoobooks for 19.95…” 

Distracted by the advertisement, you hadn’t noticed Mark approach you in awe after realizing the shirt you’re wearing is his. Small details like this made him forget all those abrupt outbursts you’d throw his way that only made his heart ache. If only he knew how many of these Donghyuck has endured.

His arms wrapped around your waist pulling you to his chest. Lips landing tenderly on your neck and leaving playful pecks. Your low giggles made his heart swell, hands taking a grasp on his own to loosen his grip and let you turn to face him. 

“Hyuck you should be asleep…” You drag out the ‘e’ once face to face with the older male, your smile falters upon the realization. His mirrored yours; smile dropping, eyes filled with despondence, and a knot in his throat. 

“Oh… it’s you.” To an extent he could hear the pity in your voice, subtly apologizing for confusing him with your husband. 

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” His sadness had become anger, that same knot choking him to a physically painful extent. Despite that, your pity had subsided and boredom was evident. 

“What if it was him and I said your name? I don’t want either of us to die before the New Year.” 

In his entire anger, he hated that his only thought upon your words was: ‘I wouldn’t mind dying with you.’ 

With that thought alone Mark was beginning to feel frustrated with how easily his emotions ranged because of you. Nevertheless ending his turmoil of emotions, you pulled him down to the couch with you. Encasing his lips with yours once situated to give him some peace of mind.

A kiss was always enough to calm him down. Pulling you closer to his body and resting his hands on your hips as you both continued this lustful kiss. Sighing into the kiss once he felt like he needed a breath of air; one of his hands traveled to hold your face carefully. His warmth radiated to your cold cheek.  

“What are you doing up this late?” He whispers, repositioning himself to the armrest on the right and pulling you to his body. Mimicking the position you and Hyuck were in earlier. 

“Last minute cleaning before we leave tomorrow.” You took the remote control from the coffee table, disrupting the once semi-comfortable position. “I’m starting to regret it knowing he hasn’t packed anything yet. Have you?” 

“Not precisely. I had packed everything for when I started moving into the apartment—“ and he knew he fucked up right then and there. 

Your body became tense against his, hard enough that he feared you had become a statue. Shutting his eyes in regret; Mark started beating himself over not being careful with his words. He had gotten so used to speaking freely with you that he was beginning to fear he’d have to censor his vocabulary now. 

In a frenzy of panic, the words escape his mouth with fear: “Move in with me.” 

There was no denying his words had startled you. Removing his grip from your body to face him, the questions brewing in your brain engrave themselves into your face. 

While Mark worked with that nervous laugh that escaped him involuntarily, his hands reached for your face to plant short kisses onto your lips in hopes they’d ease both of your emotions. 

“Are you serious?” 

“Yeah!” 

A peppy feeling in his chest. “I mean it’s smaller than this place but I think you’ll like it.” Your eyes scanned his face, a layer of blush flushing it the longer you stared. The effects of being stared at by someone you love.

“The terrace is spacious so you can have all the plants you want. The bedroom can be your studio and we can have the bed in the living area.” He was so happy and blinded by the scenarios of having you in his home as his wife that he couldn’t see the gears turning in your head. 

How willing were you to follow through?

An amused laugh escapes your lips. Mark felt the airy comfort of acceptance to which he mirrors your laugh, kissing you now that he’s satisfied. 

“Sounds like a plan, huh? You can do whatever you want while I work for us. I mean I like you and you like me. We can start from square one, I really like you, y/n. Go with me, what else do we need?”

You knew what was needed but for now, you’ll bask in his boyish delight and kiss him like many times before; igniting his hope.

Mark took your kisses as confirmation. Hopefully a few days from now you both will find yourselves running off and leaving this stagnant life. It could be true, this may be your yearned fresh start.

He held your body closer, pillowy lips encasing yours to swiftly place them against your jawline. He created a path amongst your cold skin. A fluttering feeling brewing in your stomach the closer his lips got to your neck.

His tongue lapped at the flesh, drawing circles until he kissed it to create a tingle to run up your spine. Mark was always delicate when kissing your skin. Yes, he wanted to show Donghyuck and everyone what he did to you but for respect towards you, he restrained himself. 

“I’ll make sure you’ll get clients no matter what. You can even work remotely from the apartment or not at all if you don't want to. I'll do fine enough.” 

His warm whisper traveled up your skin to your ears, booming within your head but not much in a pleasant way.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes…” 

The word left in a groan, hands moving your hips to make you grind against his growing bulge. Quite interesting how easily he can get turned on. He was too enthralled with the way your body felt against him and his hopes to start a new life that he didn’t notice a wave of fright wash over you when hearing the slight creaking from your bedroom.

Not wanting to worry the man beneath you, you smiled, taking his face into your hands. He returned the smile wider, leaning in for one final kiss of the night. Your unexpected moves of getting off him creating a whine to slip from his lips.

“Good night, Mark. Remember to pack up before he finishes his errands.”

You didn’t give him time to return the words or feel frustrated with the mention of his best friend but it didn’t matter. All he cared for was the new life both of you were set to start together.

Fear had always plagued you upon entering this room even before Mark arrived. Whether it was because you knew an argument would brew or because you’d have to sleep in it alone. Things are different now. Now the fear stemmed from entering the room after your rendezvous to see Hyuck staring at the door until you entered, ready to lash out for these years of misery.

But in this reality he wasn’t staring at the door. He sat on the bed, back towards you while looking outside the vast window. Curtain pushed to the side that made copious amounts of neon lighting enter your shared bedroom. His figure had made your heart stop, begging for clemency at the fright he gave you.

You feared he heard you and Mark speak let alone any of the noises any of you could’ve let out from making out. While your heart banged against your ribcage to be let out, Hyuck restrained his bitter chuckle. That familiar smell swaying its way to his nostrils. At least you were in the room with him now. 

“Can’t sleep?” Your words didn’t elicit a response from him, if anything he could barely produce a sigh. With no response you approached him. Climbing on the bed, feeling the mattress sink under your knees, complaining about your abuse until you reached him. Wrapping your arms around his waist like Mark had done to you earlier, lips laying on the crook of his neck to take a whiff of his musk.

“What were you doing?” He asks, avoiding your own question. He didn’t need an answer, he knew perfectly what you were doing. Now that he had you this close, that pungent smell of Mark on you suffocated him. It didn’t help that the walls were thin and he could hear both of you murmuring. He may not have heard actual words but it was enough to know you two were together. 

His head turned to look at you upon not gaining an answer. It’s not that you took a while but he wanted to familiarize himself with your face whenever you were lying, just like you knew when he lied.

“Cleaning before we leave. I don’t want to come back to a dirty house.” You answer, kissing his cheek with a smile right after. 

Fuck. There’s no incriminating factor. Perhaps you're used to it by now.

Hyuck hums, sighing once again to rid his nostrils of Mark’s lingering scent. It was painfully intoxicating his loins. If he didn’t do anything about it, he feared not waking up tomorrow morning. Death by heartache. 

Shifting in his spot, Hyuck takes a hold of your body, laying you slowly underneath him. The image before you made your heart swell, giddy excitement filling your entire being. He didn’t do anything besides hover over you but that remorseful look in his eyes made you feel inherently nice. 

You didn’t want to feel this way. As much as you act civilized and occasionally loving towards him and in front of Mark to put up a facade, you are still angry and hurt for what he did to you nearly two years ago. You still hated him with your entire being but sometimes the nostalgia of happy moments took over you and made you miss him like crazy.

You knew you hated him. But despite how much you hated him you will always have that parasite in your system that’ll force you to remember the times he’s made you happy. And now that you found yourself with him hovering over you and looking at you lovingly, you seemed to cave.

When you thought he was leaning in for a kiss, his lips landed on your forehead. A tender and soft kiss is what he laid on your skin, taking in the scent of your hair rather than Mark’s. At least this would help ease his aching heart. 

Hyuck wondered if this feeling is what you felt when you found out about him and that girl. He never saw you cry about the situation but instead saw you tear down the house with any argument that ensued due to the subject. Perhaps he should be the one to act that recklessly. After all this was between his wife and his childhood best friend but he knew he wasn’t brave enough for that. 

In contrast to his inner turmoil, you found the action sweet. Trying your hardest to avoid that feeling of giddiness he was causing you. You two stayed like that for a few minutes, enough for his own scent to rub off on you from how close he held you. Satisfied, Hyuck pulls away, a gush of cool air getting between your bodies to remind you of that lost warmth.

“Don’t overwork yourself, you’ve done a good job keeping the house clean.” His voice still held that sleepy hoarseness, making his praise fill you even more with satisfaction. While he laid on his side again and whispered a sweet good night, you took the opportunity to turn to him and steal a kiss.

For the first time in a while, you initiated the kiss. Catching him off guard, Hyuck opens his eyes surprised before easing into it. Reminded how sweet kisses from you were and how much he had missed them all this time.

Pulling away with a smile on your lips, Hyuck returns it amused. “Good night.” You whisper, laying your head on his chest while his arm wraps around your shoulder pulling you closer to him. You two may feel hurt for the actions you’ve both taken but for tonight you’ll play along with those emotions that crave the comfort of puppy love. 

The next day came quicker than expected. All of you had different illusions created regarding your relationships and Mark seemed the most excited about the ones he’s created. Not that you wanted to ruin that hope but you needed time to think about it. On one hand it’d be a perfect way to finally ruin Donghyuck and make him pay for what he’s done to you but on the other it was such an abrupt proposition that you’re still trying to process it. 

And for the past three hours, you’ve sat calmly in the passenger seat of your car now that Haechan finally finished his errands, road trip in process. Both of you hand in hand with the radio working as the only source of sound. Even with that, Mark’s bitterness couldn’t be taken away. The image of you being so loving towards the man you fought with daily was consuming him in the worst way possible. 

Can one forget everything said that easily?

He tried distracting himself with anything he brought but even that couldn’t do anything for him. His glare shifted from you to Hyuck anytime someone talked. For the past hour both you and your husband had been passively debating on what to eat before arriving at the vacation home. Mark had given up his rights to make decisions, not caring much about what he ate. If it was for him, a good cold drink and a cigarette would be considered a meal.

“I don’t want to eat pasta again this week.” you whined, fingers squeezing his. A low grunt left your husband’s throat, rolling his eyes at how hard it’s always been to get you to choose what to eat. “Then let’s stop at a rest area and buy something from those restaurants?” His voice got louder, not enough to be considered aggravated but enough to make Mark shake his head with a grin.

“And eat in the car?! We still have two hours left, I don’t want the smell to stay!” Mark covered his face with his hands, laughing silently seeing you let go of Haechan’s hand. You pout in dissatisfaction while Hyuck ran his fingers through his hair, a huff of annoyance escaping him. 

It wasn’t long until the sun went down and due to his busy morning, he didn’t get to eat breakfast or lunch. Poor guy was on the brink of fainting from starvation. “We should’ve ate while you were putting gas.” The words escaping you had traveled to Hyuck’s ear, leaving behind a bitter tone.

Raising the hand that was in his hair, he turned to you irked. His face was red, mouth agape in disbelief since you were the one who didn’t want to eat in that area. “I told you and you didn’t want to!—” 

He was abruptly cut off when a popping sound was heard, dissipating any anger and laughter from anyone inside. Right now, you all felt confused and scared realizing it was the sound of a tire the second the rubber began flopping on the concrete and the drive was no longer smooth.

“Just what I need, Jesus fucking Christ.” Your husband mutters, opening his door angrily to get out and inspect the damage. You looked at him with the same expression he gave you before beginning his berating but now you followed behind to see what happened. With everyone gone, Mark is left alone in the car, realizing this could get much worse.

“Pop the trunk, let me get the spare out.” Donghyuck states, patting the metal and looking at you a bit tired. But your ashamed grimace was putting him out of ease. 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I don’t have a spare…”

He rubbed his face, sighing in frustration. “Are you being serious, y/n? Why don’t you have a spare?!” 

"I— we took it out to transfer the first batch of canvases to Mrs. Oh's house, we just didn't bother to put it back in..." 

He wanted to yell at you. To start an argument in which both of you would tell the other to die without saying the actual words. He wanted to walk away and leave both you and that traitor alone with the car just as long as he was far away; but he couldn’t.

Things have gone well and last night had given him hope too. Haechan knew he couldn’t ruin things this fast over a tire or being hangry. The only rational thing to do is sit down and act like he was fine, like it was all fine and under control. 

Taking a seat next to Mark, the both share a brief look before sitting in silence, defeat washing over your husband. Mark didn’t give any input and you yourself didn’t know what to do. Only thing that came to mind was comforting Hyuck.

That in mind, you push his legs together, taking a seat on his lap and making him face you after wrapping your arms around his neck. He looked beautiful in your opinion. His plump lips formed a pout, lids heavy from exhaustion. Even when dull you adored his eyes.

“Does your phone have signal? Can we try calling a mechanic?” He shakes his head, grunt sounding more like a whine while protruding his pout more. “Yours?” You mimic his response, pulling him closer by the neck.

Mark saw everything from his peripheral, knuckles turning white the tighter he held his book. His heart was screaming, aching, and threatening to explode if you kept being this blatantly affectionate in front of him. Did you have no shame? No remorse? What were you playing at to love him just last night but rub in his face that another man could have you publicly?

The nail in the coffin came when you leaned into Haechan, slotting his lips with yours and kissing him tenderly. Turning his head to an angle towards you both, his eyes squinted and lips parted with aversion. The image seemed too familiar. Was it from last night or the afternoon in this same car that started this affair but he too felt betrayed now. 

Having enough of watching you kiss away your husband’s stress, the older male made his way out of the car, slamming the door causing both you and Hyuck to separate. His gaze turned to his friend, panting to regain air but before he could question anything you kissed his swollen lips once more, holding him for dear life.

“Better?”

“Much better.” 

Hyuck smiles at you, kissing your cheek before helping you off his lap. He wouldn’t have minded staying like that for a while but his subconscious told him to go to Mark. To talk to him while he remained agitated and with swollen lips: evidence of your adoration. It may be malicious but why shouldn’t he when everything pointed to his betrayal. 

“You good?” Your husband raises his eyebrows, thumb swiping against his red swollen lips. An action Mark watches bitterly. “Just taking a smoke.” Placing the stick between his lips, the older pushes the box towards his friend as an offering. Hyuck takes it, leaning against the car waiting for Mark to pass him the lighter but the latter turns it on with his own. In the instance that their heads came together and tips of the burning cigarettes touch, a flash goes off making both of them turn startled.

Haechan blows off the smoke, ruffling his hair when realizing it was you that took a picture of both. No one said anything. You simply smiled at them, rolling the film for whatever was your next target. 

For the following half an hour you all remained silent with the exception of your camera whenever they did something you liked and occasionally the radio if anyone saw it fit to turn it on.

The sun was threatening to fall and worry finally settled; the three of you throwing worried glances to each other. When the universe had enough of you all acting useless; the presence of an older woman cleaning her hands on her worn out apron stood before you three. 

“What seems to be the problem?” Though sounding hostile, she meant well. Clearing his throat, Hyuck stood from his position on the seat he had settled on not long ago. “Hello… Our tire popped and we don’t have a spare. By any chance do you have service to call a mechanic?” His hands rub against his jeans, smiling at her in hopes that would help. 

She simply chuckles, shaking her head in disbelief. “Who doesn’t carry a spare tire driving through here? Have you seen the potholes?” Her chuckle turned into laughter, mocking the three but nevertheless she didn’t mean any harm and instead asked them to follow her.

“There’s no mechanic for another two hours and the one we have has been out for the past week but my son and husband should be here from work in around ten minutes. My son has spare tires and you can work it out with him. How does that sound?” 

There was no other choice. All of you had to be gone soon if you wanted to enjoy the remaining days of 1999 and Mark’s stay with the two of you. Nodding, Hyuck agrees, eliciting a smile on the woman’s face that invites the party to her home. 

The car was left on the side of the road but the vast windows of the home allowed all of you to view it for precaution. The walk from the vehicle to the house was a bit far with the troubles of wet dirt from past rain and some stray thorns but both men tried their best to make your path clear.

It was much colder upon entering the home. The walls were freezing and the lights dull. The house was lovely but that ominous feeling was creeping on Mark enough to hold your arm and pull you closer to him. You mustered to side eye him, confused on his actions but pulled away when Hyuck turned to you both. A subtle dissatisfied look on his face.

“Spending New Years at the beach?” The lady questioned in order to create conversation. “Yeah, sounds like a good idea so far.” Haechan smiles, looking around when taking a seat on the plastic covered couch. The older lady that soon introduced herself as Magui had gone to the kitchen to continue cooking dinner.

She had confessed that her husband and son left her alone the entire day. Most of the time only seeing them when they came back and when making them lunch. Seeing yourself in her, you searched for a sliver of sadness but who figured some people don’t mind the life you have. She spoke highly of the men in her life so maybe that was the key to her happiness. 

“Are you staying with family for the New Year, Magui?” You egg the conversation, sipping on the hot chocolate she handed all of you now that it was getting colder. “We’re spending it with my family. They live in the next state over. Today is their last day of work for the year so we leave early tomorrow.” Her smile became warmer the longer she spoke to you all, feeling more at ease herself. 

“Are you all spending it with your family?” Truth be told she wanted to know what was the deal between the three of you. She was an older woman, the more wiser and she could see the glances both men threw you. Were you with the beautifully tanned honey haired man or the brunette with gracious cheekbones? Both of them made their infatuation clear but only one of them would be presented as your partner.

Mark shrugged, giving her a shy smile. “Just us three.” Haechan answers, taking your hand into his. There her answer went. Parting her lips to let out an ‘ah’, she nods at the reveal. 

“Seems a little lonely doesn’t it?” It did but none of you would want to admit it. After all the past years you’ve spent it with Hyuck’s family so this was a change of pace. “Not necessarily. I only have them.” Mark answers, his eyes shifting from her to both of you. 

He had his family but his brother and mother were cowards that did anything his father said. He, like you, spent Christmas and New Years with Hyuck and his family, that’s the most he’d see his best friend in a busy year. 

“Yeah… well his family too but he wanted to change it up this year.” You laugh nervously, squeezing your husband’s hand who only raised his eyebrows as a response. You, like Mark, didn't have a good relationship with your own family. 

Not too long after your mother’s death, your father remarried a woman you could only describe as a geriatric cunt. Preferring her over you: his own daughter, things hadn’t been the same as they were when you were younger. Years of neglect had gotten to you and you treated him as nothing more than your creator. 

Well, that’s your version but in reality all these years you treated your father horribly for trying to move on. Yes, he loved your mother but he knew he couldn’t take care of you and your brother alone and his current wife was a delight. Even after all these years of your reproach, they still loved you dearly and tried their best to keep in touch. 

As the years progressed you ignored your father’s advances on fixing this damaged relationship but he kept trying. You couldn’t understand why your brother had forgiven him but you couldn't. Maybe because you refuse to acknowledge you were in the wrong in wanting your father to cope the same way as you did. So if you were miserable he should be too.

This year he had invited you all to his home once again for the holidays. He knew you spent it with your Husband’s family but it never hurt to try. Whenever you didn’t answer his emails, letters, or fax he’d resort to Hyuck who’d only reply with: ‘I’ll let her know.’ Knowing full well the answer will always be no.

Donghyuck never blamed you for trying to stay away from your father. He saw how Mark’s own relationship with his was and he didn’t want to push you either. All he could do was stay by your side and offer you comfort despite not agreeing with you. At least he knew his family would always produce warmth and love for his loved ones.

Soon enough screaming from outside took everyone’s focus. Magui knew it was her husband and son; greeting them ever so lovingly and kissing their cheeks as a welcome; her face lit up in joy. 

Maybe in another universe this could be you and Hyuck. Maybe.

“So?” The older male spoke with a gruff voice, hand turning to the three of you sitting on the couch as he took his spot on the recliner chair his wife sat on earlier. Presumably none of you were sitting there by the time he arrived. “Their tire popped right outside.” Words came out choppy while chewing on a piece of potato, making sure it was well cooked. 

“Chivi go change it out, get one of your spares.” Magui ordered her son who stood with no hesitation. Cocking her head towards her son while looking at your husband; he stood up to follow him, pulling you with him in the process. Not trusting to leave you alone with Mark even when there were eyes all over.

You began freezing the instant you crossed the threshold, your jacket doing nothing to warm you. You didn’t complain much. In a way you did prefer being with him for the time being, still feeling awkward around the older couple back inside.

“Ah. Yeah… Horrible burst.” The one called ‘Chivi’ speaks, raising his eyebrows while releasing a small laugh. With a flashlight he pointed at how horribly ripped the rubber was, flaps barley hanging close together. “My spares are used up and old themselves so I recommend you change it as soon as shops open again and get a new one. It’ll last you a good few weeks but it’s best to be cautious. Are you okay with that?”

Anything was okay than staying stranded in a small town nearing the middle of nowhere. All he wanted to do was get to the home, shower, and rest for the remainder of the night. He was exhausted and hungry, he wanted a break.

“Yeah, yeah that’s fine. How much would it be?” Haechan nods exasperatedly, hand reaching for his wallet but Chivi stops him. “Nothing! Actually, can you go get me a pack of tortillas and a large bottle of coke? I forgot to get them and ma’s gonna kill me if she finds out.” He laughs, finding this comedic. 

You let out a giggle yourself. After waiting a good 10-20 minutes and night had finally caught up to you, all this family asked for was the essentials to their dinner. It may be the simplest of requests but you found the family endearing perhaps because you were still fixated on the fact that in another life you too could’ve had this sweet family with Donghyuck.

“Sure, no problem.” He heard your voice for the first time this night, smiling at the confirmation. He handed Hyuck the keys to his truck, rushing you both while giving directions to the nearest grocery store that seemed to be 15 minutes away if you went straight ahead. 

When arriving the both of you got the items rapidly with barely any exchange of words, exhaustion weighing down both of you. Besides their requests both you and Hyuck opted to get them a cake. It was minimal and perhaps the most random thing to give but you wanted to show your gratitude to the family in case they didn’t take payment for their help.

On the way back, he cracked the window open letting the cold air in, making you turn to him a little peeved. “Cold?” He taunts, tongue pushing against his cheek before chuckling. “Very. Feel.” Taking his hand onto yours, Hyuck pretended to shudder at the contact of your cold skin but didn't let go. 

“We finally have some time to ourselves.” He deviates, holding your hand against your thighs which you covered with a blanket you were able to get out of the car before leaving. “Yeah, I suppose so.” At least the first night out without any argument and ill words thrown at each other besides your make up anniversary dinner. 

From time to time he’d turn to you, seeing as you watched the trees blur away but focused on how beautiful you looked. The way your lips shined from the lip balm, your nose with the faintest hint of blush from the cold, and the way your eyelashes batted against your cheeks whenever you blinked.

If it wasn’t because of the darkness, he’d think you’re glowing. You didn’t look as miserable and dull as you did months ago and before Mark’s arrival. That only made him feel guilty and incensed; being aware that his best friend has been able to liven up your life. Just Mark and not him: your husband. 

Haechan’s hand begins to smoothen out the creases of your sweatpants, his hand progressively getting higher on your thigh enough to make you feel a tingling ache between your legs. His hand became warm enough that it almost felt like you didn’t have cloth between you two and he was directly caressing your skin.

“What are you doing, Hyuckie?” your head rolled to face him, sultry eyes begging him to not stop even if your voice tried to act like it. “I never got to fully taste you that night, princess.” A smile crept on your face as his hand inside your sweatpants, pushing away the fabric of your underwear. 

There was always sweetness and comfort in the way he called you said nickname. You always surrendered under him whenever he said the word. If only he knew the effect it had on you, he’d exploit it to have you eating from his palm.

“We can’t—” You choked up, his fingers pushing through your cavern, enveloping them with your warmth. He held a smirk on his face, biting his inferior lip to repress a mischievous chuckle. “Not here…” You moan, he curled the digits once reaching as deep as he could, slowly moving them within you. 

“We can’t fuck in someone else’s car.” An airy breath left your lips, panting the while he continued to move his fingers, tips gracing your g-spot. He knew your body well, no one but him. 

“Why not?” He whines, fingers leaving your body and making you cry from emptiness. His hand reaches his plump lips, smothering them with your essence as if it was lip balm, licking it off after seconds and rejoicing from joy at the taste he longed for. 

Your eyelids fluttered at the image, feeling tears well up on your waterline. “Lay your blanket in the back, we can there.” He sucks on his ring finger, biting at the skin, teeth dancing across the flesh to leave behind a red trail before drying them off on his neck. 

In your seconds of contemplation his phone rang angrily inside his pocket; removing his attention from you. You wouldn’t deny that it bothered you, it had ruined the mood and both of you couldn’t ignore it as your pager kept buzzing when the calls went unanswered. 

It felt like Deja Vu for the one on the other end.

“Mark–” “Mark.”

Hyuck shakes his head with a chuckle, not surprised that even when gone he’d interrupt another intimate moment. “We’re taking too long apparently.” Turning to look at his disappointed face while he sped off to the house; you couldn’t help but feel his frustration. He didn’t talk after that, leaving the reminder silent. 

On arrival you took it upon yourself to break that silence, cupping his cheek into your cold hands making him look at you. “When we get home, okay?” You kiss him, easing his irritation. He nodded in agreement, his own hand on top of yours and pulling you closer to him to deepen it.

He swiped his tongue over your lower lip, you parted them to give him access and when his free hand traveled under your shirt; your pager buzzed again causing him to laugh into the kiss. This time bitterness won. 

“Let’s just go.” He sighs, unbuckling and rushing out the truck. You shared his sentiment, picking at your lips on the way inside the house; his hand holding yours tightly. 

The four inside turned to the creak of the door, desperate hunger slapped on their faces. “There was a long line, sorry.” Your husband excused, handing them the still warm tortillas and soda bottle. 

“Sit. Eat Before you all leave.” Magui offers; a warm smile on her face while serving her son first. The three of you didn’t want to burden the family any longer but they insisted until you all agreed. 

While conversation was made and you all enjoyed the meal after extensive hours of unwilling starvation, you all finally bid your goodbyes and thanked them again for their hospitality. In a matter of seconds that brief encounter was gone but the experience will always stay.

The remaining two hours were spent in complete silence considering you knocked out as soon as you got in the car and Mark held resentment for you not answering and crossing that threshold with swollen lips letting him know what you two were truly doing. Donghyuck himself was tired and didn’t have it in him to throw jabs at the older male in the passenger’s seat (both of them convincing you to just sleep in the back until you arrived).

Around midnight you all had arrived. The scenery was familiar to Mark, enough that he sat up straight to analyze every architectural detail of the house. From the geometrical protruding walls, huge clear windows, and the creaking play set that had given him many burns going down the slide as a child. 

This was Mark’s— his father’s beach house. The same house his father banned him from years ago after one of their petty arguments. One neither could recall anymore but till this day they still remained angry.

He wanted to be glad that he was staying here as a way to stick it to his dad but knowing the man gave Hyuck access when he never gave it to anyone, not even his favorite child, made his blood boil. What had he done for his friend to gain his father’s trust till this day?

“Can you get some of the bags while I take her in?” Donghyuck interrupts his thoughts. 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he gets to have you and his father’s admiration. Hyuck didn’t have a bad relationship with his own father. Why was he so adamant on taking his dad too? He was already brainwashing you by the way you’ve been acting so what else could he take from him?

Mark bitterly took in the items, throwing them all against the well kept couch. While your husband tucked you in (occasionally hearing your sleepy complaints about wanting to sleep), Hyuck returned quickly to help Mark unload. Stepping foot in the living room, he watched his friend’s actions.

The older looked vexed, gripping tightly to old framed family pictures. He appeared in some, miserable as one could be and the ones he ever smiled in he was a toddler with no recollection of ever loving his father. 

“Neat, huh?” Haechan interrupted, extending his arms to signal at the house. Mark hummed, not lifting his gaze taking his own bag. “Why didn’t you tell me it was this house? That the family friend was my dad?” He questions minimizing the distance between the two. 

The younger shrugs giving no importance, “Thought we’d spend the last few days where we always had fun.” He smiles almost sincerely. It’s true that Hyuck wanted to spend the end of the year at a place full of fond memories but after what Mark has done, tormenting him a little won’t hurt. 

Mark sighs, pressing his lips tightly together while nodding; leaving his friend alone in the living room as he makes his way to his old bedroom. The only unkempt and dirty one in the entire house. 

Early morning Donghyuck had woken up with a cold spot beside him that belonged to you. His mind raced with ill thoughts and fury was consuming him. He called out for you but gained no response. That began to elicit scenarios in which if he stood and went to Mark’s room you’d be there.

Shaking his head to not get ahead of himself, he calls out your name again, putting on his sandals to roam around the house and search for you. He searched upstairs, in the kitchen, the living room, extra bedrooms, and even considered barging into Mark’s. But he didn’t want to see it with his own eyes. He didn’t want to see you two in anything compromising and ruin his sanity. 

Instead he went downstairs to continue his search, aiding his thumping heart from the ache of the ‘what if’. If there’s something Hyuck keeps in mind from all the things you’ve said it’s: ‘Who seeks, finds.’ And he didn’t want to find, at least not yet. He was glad that when stepping foot in the warm lower layer, he found you floating about in the grand indoors pool.

His heart relaxed as his face muscles did, sighing in relief to know his suspicions were wrong. How glad he was to be wrong for once. Making his way to the edge of the pool, he rolls up his sleeping pants, removing the sandals and dipping his feet in the warm water.

It took you a few seconds to realize he had arrived but seeing his face unconsciously made a smile appear on your face. “Morning,” You coo, swimming his way. He returns the smile basking in the sweetness of the moment. 

If this had happened months ago you’d glare at him before deciding to get out of his presence. You would’ve never spoken to him in this way months ago but now you were acting like everything was behind you. Whether it’s your own guilt or being tired of the cycle, he was going to appreciate the small things.

“Morning, princess.” He lets out with a groggy voice, caressing your cheek the instant you get close. “Slept well? I didn’t want to wake you, you looked really tired yesterday.” He musters a nod, yawning away his remaining sleep.

“Is it cold out? Why aren’t you at the beach instead?” You shrug, swiping away droplets from your face. “I’ll get ready and we can go if you want. There’s this secluded area Mark and I would always go. I think you’ll like it, this time it’ll be just us.” He winks, standing to shake off the water that clung to his legs. You nodded, watching him make his way out to leave you in solitude again. 

You two hadn’t been this close in the longest time and it was concerning how sweet he was. Even when you two ‘made’ peace and started to act like nothing was ever wrong he didn’t go out of his way to be this loving. The most came to occasional kisses on the cheek and holding hands but he had taken a drastic turn that night he announced his long break.

That night had shifted things for everyone and you couldn’t get past your uneasiness. You knew it was because of Mark, it was obvious in the way he spoke to his friend that Hyuck saw something and he didn’t like it. You weren’t stupid, you can see the way they look at each other compared to earlier in his stay. 

For the most part they always tried to defy or avoid each other and the times they acted like best friends, the moment would be ruined when either made a sly remark regarding you. You wanted to believe Hyuck did it for the kindness of his heart and not to brag but that doubt won’t leave your mind anytime soon, not until Mark’s final day and you decide if you’ll join him.

But in the meantime you’ll enjoy the affection Hyuck’s giving you. Despite spending the most intimate time with Mark he had dialed down on his sweetness and allowed his libido to take over. Sure occasionally he’d act like the sweet boy from earlier but he was a man nonetheless and your cute walks around the countryside turned to him taking you in the back of the car because he couldn’t hold off much longer until getting home. 

You liked Mark. You held him dear to you, he was still that sweet boy you met half a year into your relationship with Donghyuck but he barely acted like him anymore. He was animalistic and possessive, wanting to keep you near him at all times and you didn’t know how to process that. You understood his love for you to an extent but the man you first slept with that afternoon wasn’t the same one that held you roughly against a sink just two days ago.

Not to mention that aside from his libido he became a clingy cheese ball that if you spent too much time with him, you’d scream how much of a bore he became inside your head.

Minutes later, Hyuck had come out with the remaining items you needed, taking your hand in his and dragging you out the dock that led directly to the beach. With the exception that he took a detour between large boulders until you both ended up by the beach completely isolated from anyone else. 

The view was beautiful; for miles on end all you could see was the swaying dull cyan waves, clashing against the sand and whatever boulders were closest. Walking a little further up to the sand, you set the blanket as Hyuck the remaining items. Both settled beside each other waiting for the chilliness to calm down before dipping in the sea.

As the minutes of silence passed it was to be noted how estranged you two became to one another. What in past years would have been multiple conversations in by now had become subtle glances and shy giggles when caught. Almost like the beginning of your courtship. To anyone seeing you two; they ought to think it was a cute occurrence, but to you both— it was eating you alive seeing how dull things became.

“Are you cold?”

He breaks the ice, opening a container of strawberries, taking a bite of the red fruit. “A little.” You confess, looking from him to the tides that purposely spray you. He took the opportunity and came closer, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you to him; enveloping you in an embrace that in fact was warming you.

He hums, resting his head on your shoulder basking in your scent. Glad that for once in a long time he couldn’t smell his friend on you. “Are we staying here the three months?” You question, hoping that initiated a type of conversation.

“You don’t like it here?” “I do. I just want to know what plans you have.”

He lets out a sigh through his nose, fingers dancing across your arms.

“You know I don’t like saying my plans out loud. Your grandma scared me off.” He chuckles, allowing his lips to grace your skin as if it was an accident, creating goosebumps; Donghyuck can’t help but grin.

The most you could do was bring his hand up to your lips, placing a tender kiss on his soft skin. Feeling your lips on his flesh made his heart flutter, becoming warm until he saw a familiar accessory wrapped around your wrist. That beauty he felt had dwindled in a matter of seconds.

Donghyuck recalled seeing a similar one on Mark’s wrist just last month. That same shade of blue that faded with the pass of water and beads began wearing out. For someone that’s spent weeks analyzing you two, he was beginning to beat himself up over this small object.

“You’ve been getting closer to Mark, haven't you?” He takes your hand, bracelet in view. You tensed until he showed the key element. A hum ended up leaving your lips, nodding whilst nervously teasing him.

“I stole your best friend.”

“But he’s my best friend.”

His voice may be playful but his heart ached. 

“Maybe come home early and you can have him back.” You smile mockingly, turning so he could see it. His hand drops from your wrist, landing on your thigh. “I don’t think that’s a problem anymore.” 

You knew what he insinuated but you weren’t going to let that ruin this small peace you are feeling now. “You know we miss you, right?” Lies. You and him knew it was a lie but if it wasn’t for the tone that delivered such words, it would’ve consumed him.

Instead he found himself biting his lower lip, your sultry eyes scanning his face and feeling his hand inch further up the exposed skin of your thigh. “How much?” He asks, face getting closer to yours, enough to smell the pool’s bleach in your hair and the coconut lip balm.

“Hyuckie, we can’t here…” His fingers went beneath the fabric of your bikini bottoms, intruding your walls carefully just like last night. This time there was no reason for them to be interrupted. “You said we could when we got home,” He kisses the shell of your earlobe, words falling hot against your flesh.

His lips began a trail from there onto the crook of your neck, nipping lightly and leaving a warm sting. “I haven’t been able to feel you fully for so long, I’m surprised you’re not dry.” You felt yourself gulp at his words, beginning to pant from the adrenaline of both this rendezvous and the possible meaning of his words.  

He fully separated himself from you, laying you on the blanket before hovering over your body like a few nights ago. The exception being that this time he delved into a deep and animalistic kiss. His lips felt desperate against yours, both your tongues immediately waltzing with each other. Holding onto his neck and torso to keep some control.

“Won’t someone see?” “It’s private property, princess.”

Donghyuck was drunk with pent up arousal from months of no contact and the irritation of what you and his best friend have done behind his back. You were his and Mark was his best friend. Two separate things and he was not going to allow either of you to merge into one and leave him behind. 

Your nails softly clawed his skin, leaving red trails to indicate how much he was pushing. You didn’t dislike this, in fact his lascivious side has always been what you enjoy. He groans against your mouth from the sting of your actions, biting your lower lip to elicit a cry of your own.

Both your pained moans turned to pleasure giggles; he licked your lower lip before both your tongues connected and his hands untied your bikini top. Sliding from your skin and letting him feel your perked nipples against his own.

You felt sensitive under him, it wasn’t helping that his hand traveled between the both of you to undo the knots of your bottoms as well. Pushing off the fabric to let him rub circles on your clit without any restraints. Your eyelids fluttered at the contact, pulling him even closer to what he already was. 

“Not so shy now, huh?”  He laughs against your mouth, nipping your bottom lip before leaving a trail of kisses from them to your neck. The instant he penetrated you with his fingers, he bit your neck causing a pleasured yelp to leave your lips. “Oh, you dick.” You moan, moving your head to give him more access.

Haechan laughed at your words, continuing his abuse on your flesh and making sure those juvenile markings were dark and visible. He could do this to you and proudly. Only him. 

Delving in the pleasure of his long fingers moving at a gratifying pace, you urge him to add another one in which he complied, scissoring and stretching them within you to continue hearing your moans. You loved his fingers. He was the right amount of rough that made your legs shake with even the least amount of effort. 

Curling his digits; the deeper they were within you, the louder your moans became. It didn’t help that his aggressive praises made your head spin. The likes of: 

“Your cunt was made for me.” 

“No one will ever know how to fuck you this good with just their fingers.” 

and “If you’re shaking like this with my fingers, I can’t wait until you’re full of my cock and cum.” 

All of which made your eyes roll to the back of your head with the imagery of what that was like.

But you weren’t one to let him just talk without action. “Then fill me right now. Bruise me with no end.” Your eyes met his, a thin amount of tears threatening to slip. The same sultry eyes and voice defied and taunted him waiting for consequences. 

He didn’t grant you the satisfaction of a primary orgasm, instead he pulled his fingers out to leave you aching and whining from emptiness. His body separated from yours and that breeze he protected you from earlier attacks while he removed his swimming trunks. 

Sitting up to look at him, your chest felt warm seeing his hardened dick spring in fervor almost as if it had a mind of its own when in your presence. You too were glad to see it; after so long and in this state, the one thing you wanted was to have it in you no matter what entrance. 

And like a famished species, you crawl your way towards him. Holding onto the back of his thighs to pull him closer to you. The action made him stumble but he laughed at your desperation. Hand going to your hair, threading his fingers through it and holding your head firmly to look at him. 

“Want a taste?” He takes a hold of his heavy sex, taunting you by slapping it against your cheeks and watching your agape mouth chase after it. You nodded hurriedly, leaving behind any shame and pride just to taste him once more. 

Pulling your head closer and watching your mouth open more, Haechan lets his tip grace your lips before pushing your head away. Eliciting a pained whine; he crouched down to your level, his tight hold on your head not leaving and making you look directly in his eyes. 

“No. You don’t deserve this much.” His words were low and full of hatred, his eyes boring holes onto your own. If hell was real, you had just seen it through them. 

Dropping his grip from your hair, he helped you get on all fours. You could feel both of you sinking further into the sand and the blanket doing its best to not allow it to get near you two but his rugged actions weren’t helping the poor thing. 

Instead once you were positioned before him, he pushed your top half further down, enough for your head to lay on your arms and your lower half lifted to his crotch. As much as he didn’t want to grant you any more pleasure, Hyuck couldn’t hold himself back when he saw your glistening cunt under the sun, begging him to taste you. 

Your legs spread enough for him to see every crevice full of the arousal he caused. Fuck it. This was for him, not for you and he wanted to grant himself the pleasure of tasting you again.

Just when you were going to whine and beg for him to fuck you, you felt his lips attach to your cunt making you moan louder than you have in a while. He grunted at your reaction; it was music to his ears, hot enough to travel to his angry cock and twitch with precum spurting out. 

He felt your legs shake, not even his tight hold on them could make you stop. Haechan’s tongue swiped from your entrance to your clit, collecting your juices there and sucking on the bud to take them into his mouth. Proudly swallowing what you made for him. He hummed directly against your cunt, the warm vibration sending you overboard. 

“Hyuckie…” You moaned that sweet name again, his cock twitching at your cracking voice. He didn’t want to succumb to you, after all you’ve put him through the last thing he wanted to do was please you but damn that would happen regardless when fingering and eating you out was his favorite thing to do.

His nails dug into the skin of your ass cheeks, harsh grip eliciting a yelp as he continued to delve into the taste of your arousal. A delicacy if you ask him. Tongue teasing your entrance to the point just enough of the tip penetrated you.

You tried your best in touching yourself or at least rubbing him off with your feet but he always pushed you away, grunting at your disturbance. Feeling his tongue lap at your folds, circling around your clit, and sucking on it harshly then softly. Becoming a pattern that throws you into a frenzy.

Feeling your stomach coil and your legs start to give up on you, you begged him to just finish you off. To let you cum since he hadn’t done so when he was fingering you but he didn’t budge. Instead he continued his assaults on your sex; his face had pushed further in and you could feel how his soft rosy cheeks collected your cum on them. 

You wanted to see his face badly. To see how you’ve stained it and glisten in the sunlight. If he already looks beautiful, you believe your essence will make him even more so.  

“I didn't want to treat you and look where you have me. You’re so lucky I love you.” He grunts, laying his tongue flat on your cunt. You laugh at his statement but hear it become a moan at that. His warm, soft, velvety tongue licking away your own mockery. 

You feel his hand come flat on your ass, whipping your head to look at him but his cold glare didn’t allow for any words to leave your mouth, not even the moan that was product of his harsh treatment. “Are you close?” He grins, separating himself from between your legs. Fingers collecting your arousal and pushing it into his mouth.

Nodding feverishly, you bite your lower lip. Watching him thoroughly suck on his nimble fingers, not leaving a drop behind. Your breathing was labored and you could feel sweat accumulate where his hands had been holding you; you were no longer cold. Donghyuck’s actions alone elicited shaky moan after moan but what caused them to come with no end was how beautiful he looked behind you.

His caramel locks stuck to his forehead, perspiration threatening while his honey skin glowed under the sun’s rays. The same rays that made the lower half of his face glisten with the layer of your cum he was graciously licking at. The longer you looked at him, the longer you noticed how his lips were swollen red and his fingers pruning up.

He didn’t lie when he said he loved your taste.

What you intended to let out as a moan came out as a cry. Feeling your heart heavy and needy but most of all your stomach felt sick. Twisting and turning in hopes that he was to finally fill you up like you had asked. 

You were also needy and the image behind you made that worse; you felt desperate. The kind where you could throw a tantrum for not getting what you want and what you want is his cock to your hilt. Letting his frustrations out on you.

“Is my baby needy? Are you that needy?” He mocked. Pouting his lips to grip your hair again, lifting your head slightly before leaning in and pulling you to him. You nodded with a whine, chasing his lips but even that he denied until you sighed in frustration.

“Tell me how much you want it.” He pecked your lips, taunting you every time he pulled away. “Tell me how much you need and want my cock…” His grip tightened on your hair, a cry leaving your lips against his own. He swallowed it, tongues connecting instantly in a sloppy kiss. 

“Only mine.”

He growls in a low voice against your lips. Glaring directly into your eyes with the tightest grip on your hip and hair. And though he searched for any guilt from you, he was met with your own angry glares, getting fed up with his elongated foreplay.

“I do want it. I’ve wanted it for so long but I was not going to give you the satisfaction of touching me just yet. Call this your actual Christmas present.” 

Your voice filled with its own pent-up irritation, glaring at him the longer he kept you from feeling good just because of his jealousy fits. Here he could see you hadn’t put it all past you but instead ignoring it until he fucked your brains out. He didn’t know whether to laugh or continue his bitterness but what he did know was that his dick was hard and hurting from his own restraint. 

“And I beg that you release all your frustrations out right now because my abstinence better be worth it.” You let out through gritted teeth, eliciting a bitter and angry chuckle from him. “Because one of us has to be loyal.” Your pupils shake, enlarging the second he releases his grip and harshly pushes your head away. 

Your labored breath became louder every second he shuffled behind you. His tight grip on your hip pulling you towards him whilst his tip rubbed against your delicate cunt. For a moment he halted any of his actions, the background noises becoming overwhelming and your throat betraying you by releasing silent cries. At least only you could hear them.

But he took that silence away, letting strings of spit slide from his tongue to your entrance and using it as extra lubricant before penetrating you. He was different from Mark. While Mark was long, Haechan was girthy and with just the first few centimeters in, you could feel the stretch his fingers hadn’t granted you.

Those earlier cries became louder, struggling to cover your mouth the longer he pushed himself in you. It wasn’t painful but it felt foreign . It had been months since he’s been in you that your body was beginning to forget how he felt. While he hadn’t moved just yet, his pretty groans became the source of your satisfaction. 

It didn’t take him long to start moving. His strokes were slow but long, rugged if you will but they knocked pretty disgruntled noises out of you and that was enough for you both. 

While he thrusted into you, his hands moved from your hips to your waist all the way to your breast. His warm hands enveloping them, massaging and squeezing softly.

His hands were soft in comparison to Mark’s that became calloused the longer he continued with harsher techniques in his projects. They’re also warmer, was it because of the sun coming out or his body temperature; you found yourself to rejoice in his touch.

In that instance his thrust became harder, fingers toying and twisting your nipples before pinching them. First softly then hard enough to elicit a masochistic cry. “Hyuckie!” You yelp in pleasure, hair covering your pretty face. He lets one of his hands fall from your tit, reaching for your hair and pushing it away just to see how your features contorted for him.

Just like you enjoyed seeing his soiled face, he liked seeing your expressions from pleasure.

“Scream my name all you want. No one’s here but you and I!” Donghyuck laughs, kissing your sweaty skin with each of his thrusts. But it wasn’t just you two, there will always be Mark.

Having woken up minutes prior; Mark’s habit of searching for you early in the morning led him to tip-toe around the house searching for any sign of you — and your husband to avoid problems — but when he had no luck even in the pits of the basement, he knew there was only two options at hand.

One: Hyuck and you abandoned him for the grocery shopping you both had mentioned in the car ride. Or two: his dear best friend had taken you to the beach. And given the car and keys were where they had been placed last night, the clear choice was the latter. 

Not giving it much thought and only pulling the sweater he tossed on the couch the night prior, Mark groggily made his way behind the house. Dragging his feet and blocking the incoming sun rays with his hand. Struggling through branches and pesky rocks; Mark knew he’d be disappointed the second he saw you two but he didn’t expect to be heart broken.

At most Mark expected to see you two hold tightly like you had been when arriving to Magi’s house or holding hands while walking along the shoreline but here he was hiding behind a boulder, freezing from the shade and breeze, and witnessing his best friend fucking you. 

Donghyuck no longer held you from behind, instead he had helped you onto your back. With one leg up on his shoulder and another around his waist, the position made him go deeper than before. All Mark could focus on was your moans. They were so genuine and raw that it broke him when he heard you utter: “Fuck, I missed you...”

He didn’t notice when his mouth had gone agape or when his chest began feeling heavy but Mark felt sick and no one could fix that. It didn’t help that Hyuck took your lips with his, ensuing in a passionate kiss that held both of your anger and desire whilst spewing vile on how you were his and his alone. The only thing holding him up is that you didn’t confirm his statement.

Mark wanted nothing more than to stomp where you two laid and tear Hyuck apart from you. To feel his clenched fist come in contact with his perfect cheeks and not stop until that crimson liquid he’s always been scared of told him to stop. He wanted to keep his best friend away from you and tell him to never come near you again. Scream how you were his and his alone— just like Hyuck was claiming for himself.

But he couldn’t move. His feet had sunk in the wet sand and his legs felt weak. He only had the willpower to move a few more steps and it was either his impulses or head back home and slump in the comfort of his room. Yes, Mark has decided to wallow his sorrows privately.

With a knot in his throat, Mark dared not look behind and instead walked as quickly as his wobbly legs allowed him. His hope hadn’t dwindled but it had been hurt.

While Mark tried maintaining his composure, not allowing his world to come crashing around him for the second time this year, both you and your husband remained clueless. Too enthralled with the pleasure and satisfaction you both granted each other.

Holding off for months was beginning to catch up with Donghyuck and it showed with the pained cries he’d spill whenever he felt himself close. Each thrust he gave, you could feel spurts of precum shoot into you and slide against your walls, just for them to coat his cock and push it further in. 

You had lied about your abstinence but sex was sex and you had been craving his touch for a while. You just had to settle for Mark for the time being. Whimpers and moans escaped your lips, begging him to swallow them every time you’d pull him by the hair, connecting your lips in sloppy kisses. 

Amused by your reaction, Haechan laughed into the kiss, teeth nipping your lips and occasionally tongue before caressing it with his own to soothe the sting. He wouldn’t let the kiss last for too long, opting to see you whine from the separation. It’s the least suffering he could cause you in the meantime. 

“Close?” He questions, his palm holding your upper thigh close to his waist. By this angle his pelvic bone began creating friction against your clit. Fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, mouth leaving a trail of kisses from your lips to neck and chest. 

His teeth teased your nipples, scraping them along the warm flesh to deliver a sharp bite that resulted in you crying masochistically, pushing his head further to have him do it again. Your free hand scratched his back, digging into his flesh and moaning along his pained groans. 

Even in sex you two had to hurt each other.

“Finish me off, Hyuckie. I can’t last longer and I know neither can you…” You mewl, tugging his hair to let him know you wanted his attention. He looked up at you through lashes, moisture clinging to them, perhaps in the process his eyes watered. 

Words wouldn’t leave his pretty plump lips though. Instead he nodded, leaning in to capture your lips between his, rushing his thrusts and making them rougher. You liked feeling him stretch you out more, feeling him squeeze in as the perfect fit and feel his tip kiss your walls. Coating them with his cum was your favorite part out of it all. 

A few more thrusts and heavily passionate kisses, your walls began clamping around him. Causing poor Donghyuck to feel sensitive at the pressure. It wasn’t long until he came; thus when he felt your legs shake around him and your grasp tightened, he knew his ecstasy was near. 

Crying and whimpering against his lips; your eyes shutting harshly at that tight knot in your lower stomach. Hyuck’s thrusts were getting sloppy, within seconds you felt him at your hilt and you couldn’t hold off much longer. That knot had loosened completely and sent you overboard, gushing around him with a loud moan, holding him for dear life against you; small praises and cooing leaving your lips.

“You know my body so well, I could have you like this forever…”

Your voice was the catalyst. With your heavy panting against his lips, Hyuck didn’t hold off anymore and allowed himself to come. You along with him whimpered at the feeling of being filled up with his load; a wave of pleasure washing through you both until it faded and all that was left was a tingling sensation that didn’t leave your bodies.

Opting to stay in that position for a bit longer, both your breathing had calmed down. Your nails didn’t rake harshly against him and his teeth no longer nipped at your skin sadistically. Now the kisses were soft to avoid speaking. Both knew if any words spilled, they’d leave an ache.

The minutes passed, all that was heard were waves crashing against each other and the boulders. It was warmer now and perhaps much later, enough for your friend back in the house to be awake. Hyuck was the one to take the initiative in getting off of you and cleaning you off with some of the water he packed. 

He didn’t speak and neither did you, the most you could muster was to look at him in silence, his soft touches creating a complex feeling in your heart. At that moment you too wanted to just leave and go back inside. 

“Did you eat breakfast?” “No. I went straight to the pool.”

He hums, putting his trunks back on and stuffing the towels in the beach bag. “Mark is probably awake. We can get something on the way to the market if he hasn’t made anything yet.” His voice was hoarse, with some laced pain on it. You gave him a side smile, tying back the swim suit and placing a beach dress over. 

“He’d smoke a pack before eating breakfast. Sometimes I have to force him to have a proper meal.” You giggle, shaking off the sand from the blanket you two laid upon minutes prior. Haechan forces out a laugh, his smile quickly fades.

 Right. You took care of Mark. 

Donghyuck had expected this experience to make him feel better about his marriage. He wanted to think this was meant to settle the peace between you both but instead he felt worse. His chest felt warm and heavy and his eyes threatened to spill tears. Some had during the act but he did his best to not weep. 

He fully understood the marriage turning this way was his fault, you had told him so many times even insinuated it way before he met the catering girl but that didn’t hurt as much. He was comfortable enough with how things went on between you two before Mark arrived. At least if it meant that it was him the one you’d think about. The only one you’d both love and hate.

What did make him feel this way was hearing you come into the room after 3 AM and smell like his best friend. How often you spend time with Mark and enjoy his company. And worst of all is that you hadn’t put anything behind.

 The reason you had been civil with Donghyuck was simply because Mark was there to satiate your needs. It had only gotten to this point of accepting his touch because you were starting to get bored of Mark just like you had with him not too early into the marriage. Or so he thinks, that is was your actions are making both believe at least.

There were only a few steps left to reach the top. While Hyuck was contemplating this bond, you seemed the most aloof. There was some brightness to you and a careless attitude. On one of those steps you turned to look at him, his face was getting red and you knew it wasn’t from the sun. Something was bothering him.

It’s not like you cared to know but that gloominess was interfering with your relaxation. Stopping on your tracks and pulling him along, Hyuck throws you a confused look. You didn’t say anything yet, you simply smiled at him softly and caressed his warm cheek. He eased into your touch, feeling your soft fingers dance across his taut skin.

“I love you, Donghyuck.” 

As much as he’s yearned hearing those words, this time he doesn’t know how much to believe them anymore. 

“I love you too.”

They came out in a whisper, one you swallowed upon connecting your lips one last time that moment. He didn’t want to think much about it. There was a chance you were lying or that like him, you loved him in a baneful way. 

Yes, that is most plausible.

He wasn’t the only one to hear your profession of love. Poor Mark had lounged around the back porch with a pack of cigarettes to his side. Like said before it wasn’t too long until you two reached the top and though you didn’t intend for Mark to hear or see everything he has this morning— it just happened.

Reaching the top by the time Mark let out a puff of smoke in desperation; a sigh at most. Smelling that familiar stench, you both turned to see him lying upon the white outdoors couch his father had decorated with. 

“Morning.” Hyuck breaks the ice, giving his friend a tender smile that you mimic. Mark didn’t dare look at you both for too long, nodding in return while taking a sip of his drink. “Morning; Where were you guys?” He questions with a little pep in his words, trying his best to hide any negative emotion.

“Wanted to swim for a bit but the water was cold. Hey, did you have breakfast already? We can catch something to eat on the road before we get everything.” Mark lifts his cigarette with a smile before taking another drag, both you and Hyuck looking at each other remembering your conversation.

Hyuck chuckles with a nod. “Alright, gonna shower and we can leave after everyone’s ready, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” “Sounds good.”

He let go of your hand that second, not waiting for you to follow behind as he rushed to the bedroom’s bathroom. Despite the interaction, his feelings were still a painful turmoil and if he looked at either of you for too long in the moment, he’d end up breaking in front of both. 

Locking the door, Hyuck looks into the mirror before him. The bags beneath his eyes looked darker than before and his face had started to sink in. He didn’t look ill but he did look tired and sad. His cheeks weren’t as beautifully round in the time being and he knew that wasn’t good. After all, his round jumpy cheeks are your favorite thing about him. Maybe if he gained them back your ‘i love you’s’ would have real meaning to them.

He couldn’t contain it anymore. In the instance his thin fingers touched his equally thin face and let out that cry he’s been holding in this entire time. His tears felt boiling hot against his skin, the rivers of salt water wounding his face but that ache in chest was worse.

Donghyuck knew he still loved you. Hell, if he loved you through all the times you had called him useless, the times you avoided him during periods he felt like hell, and witnessed the times you made your own father cry by the way you treated him; then why wouldn’t he love you now that he accepted you yourself had an affair with his best friend? His brother. 

He wondered how much he loved Mark too. Mark the boy he spent years of childhood with all up to college when both parted ways. The boy he’d let stay at his house every time his father reprimanded him for the smallest things even if they weren’t a mistake. 

Mark was his wedding witness, the boy who approved of you when you two started dating and told him you were the perfect match. The boy who helped him find the perfect ring and arrangements. Mark and him have experienced many things together but sharing a lover is not one he thought they ever would. Especially not one he’s tied to by law and heart. As painful as it is.

Donghyuck bit into his fist before doing so into a towel, his silent sobs absorbed by the cloth. This was the best he could do without having you two hear him.

And while your husband is breaking to pieces in the shared bathroom, you make your way to the kitchen. Upon getting a water bottle, you felt the touch of two warm hands on your hips pulling you close to his body and turning you around to face him.

Mark didn’t show much expression, instead he pressed you against the cold steel doors. Looking at each other for a few seconds, he took initiative in connecting your lips. It shouldn’t have taken you by surprise the way it did but slowly you began to ease into his touch. You could taste the mixture of his cigarette and the orange juice he had been drinking.

Holding onto his shoulders, Mark’s own hands began to caress your body. One hand rested on your waist and the other went underneath your dress. He felt the warmth between your thighs. His fingers begin to caress the skin and make a silent gasp leave your lips. He took that opportunity to snake his tongue in your mouth. 

By the time he pushed the fabric of your bikini bottoms to the side, his fingers prodded your entrance making your gasp become audible this time. When you were to moan his name, the man before you halted his movement. He separated from the kiss as well, looking at you directly the second he felt the globs of cum cling to his fingers. 

Scooping it, Mark pulled his fingers out looking at them before you. He noticed the dark marks your husband sealed onto your skin. You were panting but there was no sign of regret on your face. Instead he was received with:

“What do you expect? He’s my husband.” 

A threatening smile on your end tried to form but Mark couldn’t produce any words. He felt speechless and too hurt to even say anything. His face held a mixture of disgust, anger, and sadness. 

With the simplest of words, you always manage to hurt them.

“Mark come on,” You call out, trying to get a hold of him but he avoids your touch. You softly scoff at the action but kept trying to at least ease the tension. “Come on, don’t be like that.” 

He didn’t know what to say. Mark knew you were right, Hyuck was your husband but that didn’t stop his heart from breaking any less. All this time he hadn’t mind since you two openly hated each other but the quick change up was affecting him.

“Honey— Oh? What are you guys doing?” 

Hyuck had come out of the restroom once his eyes had depuffed and he looked fine again. By the time he reached the kitchen he saw you two stand close to each other, a tense ambiance surrounding.

Mark threw you one last glance, “Nothing. I’m going to shower.” His voice sounded deeper and with that he walked away and to his own bathroom, leaving you alone with your husband again. Rather than tense, this one was awkward.

“The shower is ready, let’s go.” Haechan’s voice was laced with irritation.

The day you had been looking forward to this entire trip had come: New Year's Eve. The weather was finally thinking about the beach resident’s and decided it would be good to have the last day of the century be sunny all throughout. It may be December but a new millennium deserves a beautiful welcome. 

Despite Mark’s gloomy demeanor, the both of you had been trying all morning to get him out of his room. Every attempt had been a failure and though neither of you showed it, Hyuck was beginning to get annoyed about the ordeal. Specifically your attention getting directed towards the older male. You may have been trying to balance your attention to both men but their selfish demands were making things harder.

“I’ll go try again and if not then I guess we can just go.” You give your husband a side smile, handing him the dishes to dry from your late lunch. He turned the instant they were in his hands, rolling his eyes at your insistence. “Just give him space, it’s the house that’s putting him in that mood. Makes him think too much about his old man.” But he knew his dad wasn’t the only reason he was this temperamental.

A low sigh escapes your lips, walking towards him and enveloping him in a back hug. “I don’t want him to end the year like this.”  Your lips fell onto his neck, warm and soft on the flesh. He hated how much he enjoyed it. He doesn’t say anything, he simply shrugs with a low groan.

Donghyuck himself hadn’t been pleasant after the beach rendezvous, if anything he had gotten distant and silent. He always did this after sex but the worst part is that it drew you towards him in hopes to get more than a few words out of him. To get more affection. His affection.

While in the past he did it out of his selfish ways of obtaining gratification, this time he did it to avoid seeing how worried you had been for Mark. After the shower, you all had lunch in town and even browsed around the area, getting groceries for tonight. But while at it, he didn’t miss your subtle glances towards his friend who trudged behind the two of you. 

If he left you two alone for just a second, he’d come back to the image of you whispering something to Mark who in return said nothing or hummed. It was no different for the remainder of the day whenever he was around but when it was just you two, it seemed like you remembered he was the one you married. 

It’s not that you wanted to comfort them. You just wanted the reassurance that they were still eating from the palm of your hand and their little hissy fits were annoying you. At least for Donghyuck, he didn’t leave your side often and even now he was doing what you wanted him to— just reluctantly. As always. 

As for Mark, he was being a nuisance. He was brooding like a teenager that didn’t get the car he wanted and was taking it out on all of you. Didn’t he understand that you were still married? You have to fill your role once in a while and if he hadn’t been so clingy for the past few months, you probably wouldn’t feel the need to try and get a breath of fresh air with Haechan.

Your worried facade fell the second you got out of Hyuck’s view and walked towards Mark’s bedroom. You didn’t knock, you had gotten used to walking in his room unannounced that he didn’t think about it either when he heard the creaky hinges. 

“Move.” His sprawled limbs unconsciously responded to your words, scooting to one side of the bed and relaxing the second your weight dipped the mattress. All this time you hadn’t crossed the threshold of his bedroom. Compared to the one you and Donghyuck slept in; Mark’s was smaller with a horrid brown carpet and green walls.

His night stands were small of a bright yellow wood that did nothing to look good in the dark room. As ugly as the layout was, there were many trinkets of his childhood. From the multiple baseball lamps, cowboys, toy soldiers, and comics stacked on a desk that complimented the nightstands. 

You’d say the most exciting part were the glowing stars stuck to the ceiling but by now they probably didn’t work anymore. His Poison Girl Friend, Depeche Mode, and Soda Stereo posters were wrinkled and on the brink of falling from the walls. 

In every corner there were noticeable traces of all the years he was able to stay up until the last time his father told him he wasn’t allowed anymore. The most notable was the CD he was listening to now; the soft melody of Sade’s voice unconsciously making him stare intently at you.

‘I gave you all my love, I gave you all that I have inside and you took my love. I keep crying, I keep trying for you. There’ s nothing like you and I, baby…’

“I thought you didn’t like sports.” You smile up at him, scooting closer and closer but he doesn’t budge. His lips don’t move and his eyes tear away from you, glancing quickly at his lamps before looking up at the ceiling. 

With no response and your patience beginning to run out, you turn to him. In a few quick moves your hands encased his face and brought your lips to his, landing a soft kiss against them. As angry as he was, he would never deny you a kiss. His mind, soul, and body took over allowing him to return it, shifting to where it was comfortable. 

His hands took a hold of your waist, holding to you for dear life. His body missed you and it showed with the way he caressed you. His large hands slowly make their way under your shirt, squeezing your sides while his teeth softly nip your lower lip eliciting a gasp granting him access to your mouth and slipping his tongue. 

“You can’t keep doing this…” He moans against your lips, deepening the kiss and bringing your body closer to him. You wanted to ask what he meant but it was quite obvious. Mark didn’t follow up, rather basking in the comfort of your body and mouth. Enjoying the sweet taste of the blueberry parfait you had for lunch, on your tongue. 

He missed this. He missed having you all for himself, having you near him. Today’s kiss felt nothing like that day and as much as the memory pains him, he’s going to enjoy these few minutes. 

His tongue caressed yours one last time before both your lungs decided they needed some relief. Panting when separating, Mark kisses the side of your mouth before admiring your features. “You’re forgetting about me now that he wants to touch you?” His voice was much harsher than he intended but that deep rooted anger seemed to be winning. 

Your smile falters, “Are you still mad at me?” The mixture of annoyance and worry interlacing in your voice. “He’s still my husband, Ma—” He cut you off with a scoff, throwing his head back and opting to lay on his back once again. “So what? Suddenly you care that he is? What about all these months you’ve been with me?” He didn’t dare look at you, he was afraid you’d have that pout that always made him cave.

“Why are you even acting this way all of a sudden? Out of nowhere you two like each other again? Do you want me to remind you how I saw you two the day I arrived at the apartment?” He tried to shut his mouth but it had a brain of its own. Mark was beyond annoyed with your actions and neglect. 

“I guess we just made peace for now.” Your meek response brewed a scowl on his face, shaking his head in response. “What about our plans, y/n? I already told you to go with me. You were so miserable before I got here, do you really want that again? I leave tomorrow. I thought you didn’t want me to leave. Isn’t that why this all started? I’m the only one here for you.”

Mark didn’t seem to hold back any longer. Envy and rage were consuming him the longer he held everything in. He was right, without him, you and Hyuck would probably live like strangers til now with only arguments as communication. 

With a heavy heart and gloom look on your face — hiding your frustration — you come closer to him. Returning that chaste kiss on the corner of his lip and wrapping your arm around him as you lay your head on his chest. “Don’t be that way, Mark. I don’t want to end the year and start a new one with you like this. I’m here now aren’t I?”

Truly you wanted to let out a scoff but your words seemed to do it for him. He was convinced worry had washed upon you. 

“I need you. You know that, right?” “You need me?”

“More than anything.”

You wanted to tell him he was an idiot but you were glad needed you. Yeah, he was now going to use that.

What made it better for him was that Hyuck had just passed by and saw the way you clung to Mark’s body. He was able to see the life drain out of his best friend’s being. His color became dull and his face dropped. You couldn’t hear it but Mark fully heard Haechan’s heart break and stomach drop at the image. 

It was his turn to rub it in his face. 

“What’s going on?” His shaky voice made you separate from Mark, sitting up in panic and a thumping heart. But God were you good at hiding your emotions. When your eyes had met with Hyuck’s you threw him a quick smile, stretching your hand out for him to take. He was hesitant, not wanting you to see how shaky he had become but he took it nonetheless. 

Mark hadn’t sat up to see what you two were doing but he could feel the movement on the side of the bed and the dip on the large mattress when you had pulled your husband onto it. Your attention was again taken away from him, as was your touch. 

How quickly his spell died within you.

“Telling Mark he should enjoy the last day. It’s either that or welcome the century a loser. His choice.” You joked. Hyuck released an airy laugh, shaking his head. “You want to get out of the house, dude? Some of the locals just dropped off an invite for a beach New Year’s party.” His soft hands reached to envelope you the way you had Mark.

“If you guys are cool with it.” It’s all he musters. “Then it’s settled. Now, I need all of you to finish cleaning around and get ready for dinner.” You playfully glare at both, in return Haechan smiles, kissing you tenderly as a response; Mark a spectator to his demise. 

While cleaning around his bedroom and the rooms you had told him to, worked to distract him in the meantime. Those same ill thoughts gushed through his brain the minute he was done getting ready. Looking at himself through the mirror. Glancing at his every detail, Mark sighs in hopes that tomorrow his plans flourish.

From times Hyuck stayed home during the weekends it was never this bad. You always avoided him and opted to spend time with Mark but things had taken a turn this time. Your husband stuck to your hip and you didn’t seem to mind. Especially not after telling him you loved him. 

Regardless if there was something Mark had, it was hope and he hoped that tomorrow by this hour you two will be putting away your items into a moving truck to place in his new apartment. This millennium is going to be a new start for you both. Together.

In the process of making his way to the living room, Mark saw no sign of either of you. Smoothening his dress shirt while picking at the side dishes. All these hours of malnourishment were finally getting to him. He just hoped you didn’t scold him for not eating or for messing up the presentation of your dish.

This was something else that seemed to make him realize how much Donghyuck was impeding what you two had. Never in the past months have you let Mark skip meals but these few days, you barely checked up on him. How can things go south so quickly? While Mark internally complained about the changes, your husband calmly sat on the same couch Mark had lounged on that awful afternoon.

Donghyuck sat pensive, a cigarette in hand and a six pack on the glass table. Worry and sadness were visible but Mark didn’t pry. His mind only cared for his problems and feelings about you. He couldn’t care less that Hyuck legally had you.

Mark’s only solace were your passionate kisses and tender words from earlier letting him know you were there for him. How you didn’t make excuses on why you held him earlier the second Haechan saw you two. Or how before this trip, you’d always run to him rather than Hyuck when in need of company. 

You wanted him, not Donghyuck. He’s sure of it.

“Invite next time.” Mark laughs, playfully slapping off his friend’s feet from the table so he can pass by. Sitting besides the younger of the two, Mark glances at him, an awkward smile following behind. Donghyuck returns it while handing him a bottle and the box of cigarettes he found on your night stand. You didn’t smoke but it seemed like you kept some for Mark.

“It’s been a long run, dude.” Mark continues. Despite holding resentment, Donghyuck will always be his savior and best friend. “It has, hasn't it? Almost thirty years together.” The honey brunette laughs, blowing smoke out and taking a swig of his drink. “It kind of sucks we didn’t get to spend the time you were with us together. Sorry about that.”

Donghyuck’s head hangs low, the cigarette between his lips dropping ashes on the floor. In a sense Mark shared that sentiment. Deep down behind the rancor and hate, he loved Donghyuck. Even if Donghyuck himself wondered how much he loved Mark.

“You leave tomorrow and all I can take away from your stay is this trip.” Despondency held tight onto his words. What he truly took away was his betrayal but sometimes he was a coward and opted to stay silent. “Really wish we did more.” He sighs, Mark’s gaze floods with apologies. 

Mark didn’t understand why his guilt was manifesting itself now. Maybe because it was just them two and your presence didn’t cloud his judgment. The possibilities are endless but when it’s just them two— Mark is aware that Donghyuck has always been there to take care of him. Kinda like you take care of him.

While in the past he was aware he slept with his best friend’s wife and was wrong in a sense. Now it was punching his chest while screaming that he was an asshole. He didn’t know whether to take responsibility or blame his father’s home for cursing his existence. Maybe if you three didn’t stay here things would’ve been different and he’d gone back to not feeling as much remorse.

“We have an entire lifetime to do things together, Hyuck.” Mark finally gets a word in, exhaling through his nose while his fingers thread through his hair. A smile tugged at his lips, turning to his friend to deliver. The other returns it, a contagious chuckle plaguing both.

“Remember when your dad bought the play set and placed it by the beach between the boulders?” The image of younger Mark and Donghyuck around the ages of seven running around the slippery sand painted itself on Donghyuck’s brain. He closes his eyes, those warm hues of the summer’s sky were memorable.

Mark laughs, taking large gulps of his now warm drink. Sticking his tongue out from the disgusting taste. “And we turned it to face the beach because we thought the slide was long enough for us to slide all the way into the water. Just for you to slip on the steps and I slid straight into a boulder—”

“And we both broke our arms!” 

The two said in unison, laughing at the memory. This is one of the things they could share. “Some stupid seaweed stuck to my foot and it made me slip. I just remember screaming on the way down and waking up in the room with the cast already on.” Donghyuck speaks through laughs.

Mark mimics the action, the smoke of both their cigarettes getting to him. “Dad was so mad when Taeyong ran screaming about what happened but he was more concerned with the fact that he dropped his bucket of crabs inside the house than us.” Mr. Lee has always cared more about the materialistic aspect than his own family, even at such an early age. Regardless, that was the only time he’s seen Mark’s father care for his friend. 

“It’s kind of surreal I’m not gonna see you guys anymore until who knows when. I’ve gotten so used to you; it’s a little different from when I used to see you all the time as kids and growing up but living with you has changed everything.” 

“How so?” Donghyuck was curious what he meant. Yes, things have changed but he wanted to hear his friend’s reasons. “For starters, I got closer to y/n.” Mark had no malice in his words but Hyuck didn’t see it that way. He was already on edge for the way he saw you two earlier and all the occurrences in the past month so the mere mention of you was throwing away that sweet moment they just shared. 

Haechan’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek, shoulders tensing while glaring at Mark. The older one doesn't notice just yet. As his eyes rake Mark’s figure, they spot a familiar piece wrapped tightly onto his wrist. Compared to your bracelet, Mark’s was worn out and a few threads from ripping off. The beads had lost their color and the once bright blue was now faint, almost gray. 

“I can tell.” There no longer was warmth to Hyuck’s voice. It was hoarse and deep, clogging Mark’s eardrums and forcing him to look at his younger friend. That intense and angry glare confusing him but when it comes to you, even he can’t help but get defensive. 

Mark squints, taking the last sip of his drink and tossing the bottle to the side. “I’d say she probably took your spot as best friend.” He jokes but it doesn’t translate well with Donghyuck who bitterly chuckles. “She said the same before she gave me these.” Pulling down the collar of his shirt, Hyuck points at the slowly fading markings on his neck. 

That’s when things came crashing upon Mark. His comfort and happy bubble had burst and reality flooded around him. Why would Donghyuck just blatantly hurt him like this? Rub in that he could show off your love publicly while he had to hide it.

“Looks like I have a new best friend.” Mark ignores the action, inhaling harshly against the cigarette butt not caring about the stinging warmth against his fingers. “But you’re my best friend.” Hyuck whines, his voice playfully pitched but his eyes dark and sharp.

“And if I replace you?” Mark taunts the younger, raising an eyebrow in defiance. When Hyuck was to answer, the clicking of heels distracted them. Turning to the interruption, the two gawked at your figure. The glare of your sparkling dress was brighter than the lightbulb outside. If anyone saw, they looked like moths attracted to a light source.

While fixing your hair delicately, the two admired how the fabric hugged your every crevice. How it wasn’t long enough to cover your legs, the legs they loved so much. And when looking up directly at your face, makeup only enhanced how beautiful they already found you.

“Can one of you zip up my dress? I just did my nails.” You explain walking closer to them. Naturally Hyuck was going to stand up to do so however Mark had beaten him to it. Smiling at you who in return ignored it while blowing at your hands, fanning them to quicken the process.

You didn’t care who had taken the responsibility but they did. While Mark basked in the joy of doing these small things for you, Donghyuck glared at what happened before him. He couldn’t directly see how Mark slowly pulled at the small zipper. His fingers traced patterns on your back to have a feel of you just one more time. Even if it was this simple. And when he found the metal to reach its end, disappointment wasn't too grand as he was able to enjoy your body again.

 “There.” Mark says with a smile pulling away. He hadn’t fully forgotten about the younger male but he would much rather enjoy your presence. “Thank you.” You return the gesture, throwing him a soft toothy smile. 

How he loved your smile.

“You look beautiful, honey.” An aggravating voice cut through the moment. Pulling you towards him, Donghyuck takes you into his arms after spinning you around. You giggle at his comment, patting his chest to calm the giddiness. 

“You think so?” Your eyelashes flutter trying to avoid his gaze, glad the blush from makeup could disguise the warmth rising onto your face. “You’re the most beautiful woman I know, y/n.” He confirms in a husky voice, his lips slotting with yours in a quick tender kiss to not ruin your lipstick. Not that it matters, in minutes it’ll be gone with the final dinner.

Reluctantly separating, Donghyuck chuckles when your eyes meet. Satisfied with the shy smile slapped across your face. “Right, Mark?” He looks at his friend, head lifting slightly just to see how his body will react.

It was to say that Mark had been taken aback. Worst yet, when you turned to look at him, a sheer blank expression was there in comparison to how you looked at Donghyuck just seconds prior. 

It’s fine. It’s fine, you have to put up a front — like you have with Hyuck — before you two leave tomorrow and leave this smug asshole behind.

“Yeah. Truth be told you are, y/n.” His voice had dropped an octave. Taking the box of cigarettes from the table, Mark turns on his heel towards the house. “I’ll get the wine from the basement.” Leaving you two behind and the clanking of his dress shoes following him.

The interaction had soured the mood. When minutes prior you two happily kissed, right now Donghyuck was battling with his tongue to keep itself shut. But not even biting it was going to make him avoid the following conversation. 

Once inside and placing the plates for dinner; Hyuck’s tongue had won the battle against his teeth and the brewing venom slowly slips. “Y/n?” He calls out, smoothening the cloth napkins. You don’t spare him a glance, humming in response with a scowl when noticing Mark’s traces in one of the side dishes.  

“I know you and Mark have gotten close but could the affection dial down?” Your attention was now fully on his words. While you enjoy knowing he’s growing weary, a part of you feels annoyed at his request. “What do you mean?” Your actions stopped, attentive to whatever he has to say towards the subject. 

He looks at you momentarily before placing the cutlery. His shoes try their best to distract with their squeaky sound. “There’s hugging him as a greeting and then there’s hugging him while laying in bed. Or him zipping you up. There's a limit to things y/n.” 

The cascade of silent meek words had instead furthered your irritation. Turning to fully face him, indignation smothered your face. “Why? Do you not trust me?” He refuses to look at you, resting his weight on his extended arms against the table.

“I didn’t say that.” “Sounds like it.”

He feels your persistent glare, the radiating heat burning holes into his flesh. Hell, he could see the smoke wafting towards his eyes to keep him blind. However Donghyuck musters a deep sigh, rubbing at said organs with defeat.

“I just want you to care for my concerns.” 

Mark’s presence didn’t allow for your vexatious response. For the most part you were glad; this was bound to go south with you throwing in his face what he’s done. The cycle will never end. At least for now you’ll rest assured that he’s aching like you’ve wanted him to.

Subsequently the dinner was tough to go through. While small talk made itself present, it was never long enough unlike the clinking of glasses, cutlery, and the background noise of the TV informing you all of how in hours the transition to the new year will be made. Things followed that way until you all got ready again and made your way to the beach.

While it wasn’t crossing the line to Mr. Lee’s property, it wasn’t far enough for you all to drive there. With around three glasses of wine down, two shots, and the beer bottle in each one of your hands; claiming you two were being boring, Mark had managed to tranquilize the ambiance and get you two to relax.

Through giggles or full on cackling, both men argued while recalling yet again another one of their anecdotes in this same beach. Most of them being of the torment they made Mark’s older brother Taeyong endure. 

“You guys suck. I know what it feels to see their pet be made into a meal.” You pout at the story they had just finished telling. A butterfly effect had taken place that summer when the boys broke their arms. To tease the older of the three; Mark and Donghyuck had tossed his pet crabs around the beach. Through tears and whining from Taeyong, Mr. Lee had forced them to chase after the few they could salvage. 

But their chances were slim and given the play set was already in their search area, the faith of the youngest two had been told. Mark’s and Donghyuck’s malicious actions led to a temporarily long painful period. Sadly to say that even Taeyong suffered from the happenings. Mr. Lee had already been angry at the boy’s actions regarding the crabs and when his eldest son had rushed in exasperatedly to the point he dropped the bucket of said pets inside the home— their faith had been sealed the instant Lee senior blamed them for everything. 

That afternoon arriving from the hospital, Taeyong’s pets had become a delicious meal for the Lee family. Much to Taeyong’s disapproval and hunger strike that week.

“Come on pretty girl. We were like, what? Seven?” Hyuck defends in between laughs, his arm wraps around your shoulders to leave a sloppy kiss on your cheek. You scowl at the action, a smile following suit when he leaves another one to tease you. 

While Mark wasn’t enjoying the view, he didn’t want to sour the mood. You all had finally been able to go back to what you’ve all known and he knew how much it meant to you to end and start the year well. If he has to cut off his tongue and gouge his eyes out to keep the peace, then so be it.

“I would’ve cared but those little shits always pinched me any chance they had.” Mark spews jokingly, pinching Hyuck softly to emulate the pets. Comically exclaiming his pain, Donghyuck adds a quick jump to his step. Alcohol was getting to them but you won’t complain. Behind the remorse, you wanted to see your boys happy too. At least for now.

“Yeah, well it’s not fun being excited for your meal and suddenly while you’re almost done your family drops the fact that you’re eating your pet made into a pot roast.” The memory of Lola, your cow will always live in your heart. Even if she was a cunt.

“Pot roast sounds so good right now.” Donghyuck’s jesting insensitivity made Mark almost choke on his beer, coughing through laughter while you shove Hyuck off you. “Oh come on!” He laughs, trailing behind you until he grasps your waist and pulls you close to him.

He tries to contain his laughter but it escapes regardless. You weren’t mad to say the least, you just enjoyed teasing him in a different way. Resting his chin on your exposed shoulder, the honey brunette turns to kiss the crook of your neck. The smell of alcohol embedding itself on your skin.

 “Isn’t Lola the one who kicked you? That you fell into the mud?” But no one could win against his mockery. “Well…” This time you couldn’t help but laugh along, the melody from your throat letting the other two know it was fine to laugh too. “It was a really good pot roast.” 

Through laughter, jokes, teasing, and more drinking; within minutes the three of you found yourselves by the shoreline viewing the ebullience of every partygoer. String lights amongst every pole, clumps of people drinking and dancing amongst themselves. For miles all you could see were masses with glasses reading ‘2000’ or mardi gras beads.

Greeted with sparklers and beaded necklaces around your necks, the three of you swished the wands around. The yellow sparks fly off and dwindle quickly. “In case our bank accounts get drained or locked in a few hours… Cheers!” 

It hasn’t been the easiest year or for that matter the best last years of the decade but if for just this night you’d all ignore your wrong doings then you’ll be assured that there’s something out for you. Seeing Donghyuck prance around with his best friend, the happiest smiles on their faces would have made you feel as giddy in the past but alcohol is treacherous.

While it treats them well, it’s tossing you around. Playing with your heart and brain, mocking you for what the universe will do to this friendship. You won’t deny that having Mark stay with you had brought back peace and happiness initially. But after a while of giving yourself to him, he became a bore, almost like you had drained him of any fun. 

Donghyuck had turned out that way long before his friend arrived. Maybe it was because of work and the exhaustion it piled on him. But he was more silent and avoided you, especially whenever he knew an argument would happen. It may have bothered you but you failed to see that your constant berating had made his light dwindle.

Seeing them act so freely amongst themselves, laughing as if nothing has happened stabbed your chest over and over. It wasn’t guilt or sadness. On one hand you hated seeing them this happy while you weren’t but on the other, you’re glad that at least they can enjoy their company until the older one leaves. And after so long this is the first time you’ve seen them cling to each other lovingly. Like the brothers they were before all this. 

But life will never grant you the gift of happiness. You’ve made too many mistakes to have that now.

While the hours passed in which you’d all laugh, danced, and sang about the bliss of life; Donghyuck parted momentarily from you two to get more drinks leaving you alone with Mark. The latter took this opportunity to close the gap Donghyuck had been occupying. Sliding his way to you and pressing himself against your back.

The sensation caught you off guard, exasperatedly looking around to make sure your husband wasn’t witnessing this. “Not here, he’ll get back soon.” You swallow the lump in your throat as your hands battled on whether to push him off or let the drunken lust win over.

A breathy sigh expelled from his lips, softly nipping where Donghyuck had kissed you upon arrival. “One last dance of the year, baby. You’ll kiss that asshole when the clock hits midnight let me have this at least.” The coarseness of his voice made your eyelashes flutter, the sensation of his chapped lips drawing you further into temptation. 

Maybe falling victim to your needs one last time wouldn’t hurt.

Your hips began swaying against his own, pressing your back further into his chest whilst he held you tightly. Both dancing to the sensual melody without a care of the outside world. The trail of his fingers against your exposed skin left a boiling feeling. Your blood attracted to his touch like the first time. 

You looked up at him through lashes, giggling when his own stare was glued to you. Mark himself chuckled when your eyes met, smiling while biting his inferior lip and leaning down to capture yours with his. Temptation had won against your restraints, forgetting that your husband wasn’t far away.

But a harsh tug made you stumble and the painful crack of Donghyuck’s knuckles against Mark’s cheek brought the two of you back to reality. Shock filled your body and your breathing felt short. It was all crashing down on you at the worst time. Twenty minutes till midnight, this will be your end.

“What’s your fucking deal, asshole?!” Mark angrily reproaches at his friend, holding his cheek, wincing with every touch. “What do you mean what’s my fucking deal? You’re kissing my wife, you dick.” Haechan pushes against Mark’s chest, making the latter stumble. He might be angry but a taunting chuckle leaves his lips.

“One of many times.”

“What did you say?!” Earning himself another push, this time nearly tripping over his feet. When he stabilized himself, he returned the gesture to the one assaulting him. “One of many times, dickhead! On your bed, couch, bathroom, kitchen, car, hours ago!” Definitely, Mark extends his arms in an open invitation to continue. 

“If you weren’t such an asshole she wouldn’t have looked for someone else that could treat her better.” He gnaws the inside of his mouth, wincing again when accidentally gracing his cheek. Alcohol had proven to betray Mark. Hours earlier it was his best friend and aided him in loosening up but now it was spewing all his wrong doings and rubbing it in his brother’s face.

“Hyuck, it was just a kiss. Please, don’t make a big deal.” Your attempts at calming the situation had failed, instead making him grow angrier. How can it be just a kiss when Mark just confessed about your affair? “One fucking kiss? You stink of him almost every night. But no only I’ve fucked up!”

Donghyuck clicks his tongue, shaking his head with irritation. “If anything she’s only doing it to piss me off. She only fucks you to get it out of her system. This whole time she hasn’t run to you now that she has me. Her husband.” His venom clung to Mark, etching down every single one of his words onto his mind. 

No. No, Mark knows you love him and you wouldn’t just use him. You love him. That word: husband. Husband can only mean so much when the people in the party are happy and not miserable like you all are. But why does it hurt every time it’s said without correlation to himself?

“You guys are fucking unbelievable. The year is about to end and you’re ruining it for me. You just had to be men, claiming and possessing as if we don’t have our own say. Useless as always!” Your angry words cut through their direct dialogue; turning to your figure walking away from the scene. People had started to pay attention however you’ll be damned before you’re the joke of any town.

They weren’t of any help, the two argued as they followed behind. Not too far to lose or not be associated with you. Regardless they’ll drag you down with them even if they don’t intend to.

“I’m tired of you throwing that word around as if it had any meaning to you. The same person that forgot his anniversary and left her crying and came back smelling like whores with cheap lipstick stains? Do I have to remind you how you threw the shirt away instead?” 

You had reached your wits ends. In the instance Mark’s words left regarding your husband’s second plausible affair, you stopped in your tracks to look at both. The fiery pits of hell decorating your pupils and rivers of agony pooling at your waterline. 

“But you reproach me about hugging mark? Are you fucking serious, Hyuck? Again?” A sob tried sneaking into your words, clutching onto your mouth to not let your voice betray you. You didn’t look back at them, if you knew anything about either is that Mark would smugly turn to Haechan and mock him while the latter tries to beg for more time.

Again. Donghyuck had been unfaithful to you in the past and just this night Mark was first hearing about it. Any guilt from earlier into the affair was now gone. If he could, so could you. The news might have killed him earlier but now he rejoices in knowing that no morality will stand between you and him anymore.

Donghyuck takes your hand into his. As much as you tug to get away from him, his grasp shows to have gotten stronger. “I haven't done anything! At most they threw themselves at me, you know the meetings are always at clubs, y/n. Please… I said I wouldn’t do this to you again, I promised.” The sob you failed to expel, he did instead. 

You tried avoiding his sad puppy dog eyes but his touch will always be a weakness of yours. Regardless, you won’t let him see your vulnerability. Mark had witnessed it and instead he was using it against his friend’s neglect. They were all the same.

“You haven’t done anything?” Your voice slips between your gritted teeth. He shakes his head exasperatedly trudging behind while you continue until you’re finally by the sliding doors of the porch. “Just like you didn’t do anything with your catering girl?!” 

The increase in tone of your voice catches both off guard. Confused but intrigued, Mark watches as you pull your arm from Haechan’s grasp while he’s left with trembling eyes. “I wish the cheek kisses were more than just that…” Hearing you recite the words, Donghyuck knew it was back to square one.

“Y/n, stop.” He begs, walking to reach you but you back away. “I want to hold you again and again. To wake by your side like last night. To feel your warmth and kisses until we both die.’ I want to hold you… feel your warmth until we die. You’re so full of shit.” The lump in your throat wouldn’t pass, it suffocated you with every passing second but it hurt more reminiscing the contents of those letters than dying from asphyxiation. 

While he may be part of this, Mark was out of place in this instance. He was just another spectator now like all those masses outside. 

“You can recite them all you want but I never lied to you about what happened.” His voice was apologetic with a lingering sadness after every word. “Right.” You roll your eyes, finally reaching for a glass of wine to sedate your anger. 

“Yes! I never lied to you about what went on unlike you! You said it was purely platonic between you two. Indignation all over your face when I brought it up then and today and you still want to act like I’m the only liar.” Even now you couldn’t find it in yourself to admit you were wrong. At least not anytime soon in this lifetime. 

Raising your glass with a shrug, “Okay, I fucked him. So what? You fucked her too. We’r–” “I never fucked her for fuck’s sake! Listen to me for once! I never fucked her! Kissed from time to time and slept in the same bed but we never fucked! You didn’t want to console me, so she did.” 

Mark had been the shoulder you cried on when Donghyuck’s actions broke your heart but now you’re leaving the stubbornness behind to understand he had his own shoulder to cry on. 

“You're supposed to be my best friend, my ride or die and instead you’re fucking my wife! You’re supposed to be my fucking brother!” Donghyuck screams out in a sob, turning on his heel to see a stunted Mark. The older of the three needed a long time to process what he was hearing. 

Time has run out for you all. It was too late to forgive and forget. The fireworks illuminating the dark outside and screams of glee embedding itself into all of your minds. January 1st, 2000: The end of the world to many but for you three in particular. 

All there left was disappointment and sadness. This isn’t how you wanted to start or end your year but consequences will always come to those with malicious intent. Even if it refers to revenge. 

“Always have to ruin everything.” You spit out, glaring at your husband and directing it to Mark. The words stung in Donghyuck’s fragile heart. Enduring years of your vicious words was making it harder for him.

Things went for worse when you took Mark’s wrist into your hand, dragging him towards his room. The younger’s heart began beating achingly at the image before him. His ears went hot and he felt light headed seeing his friend comply with you.

“Wh- where are you going?” His question went unanswered.

“Y/n! Where the fuck are you two going?!” Panic constrained his mind. Many scenarios played in his head and they all ended the same way. With you and Mark intertwined on the smooth sheets of the bed. Caresses and kisses over nude flesh while he could do nothing about it.

All through the transcript of dragging Mark to his bedroom and locking the both of you inside, Donghyuck hadn’t stopped his whining and crying. Begging you to not do anything stupid and for you to stop this torment. 

Truth be told, you believed that your husband hadn’t slept with the catering girl but it did hurt to know he went to someone else for comfort. While it is your fault he caused those extremities, you couldn’t help that rage within you. Bringing up the subject made you feel like that sixteen year old when your father’s way of coping with your mother’s death was by remarrying another woman. 

Why couldn’t any of them just cope your way? Why did they always have to resort to other women? If they couldn’t deal with how you wanted them to, you had to make sure they felt your pain, one way or another. 

The banging on Mark’s door kept getting louder by the minute. Donghyuck’s grueling cries begging you to get out of there brought a sense of peace while Mark felt terrified. He’s never heard Haechan beg like this for anything, not even as a child when he threw tantrums. 

Moreover, Mark’s senses began to calm down as Donghyuck’s banging did too. All that’s left was hearing the younger sob through the wall begging you to not do something stupid and to think about the marriage. Under the impression that you had dragged his friend to fuck under his nose, Donghyuck was distraught and broken. 

Once and for all, Mark felt triumph. He was the one you dragged inside with you. The one you’re laying next to even if it’s just to stare at the old glow in the dark stars stuck to his cieling. It was him you’ve chosen and that’s enough for him to know you loved him. Him, not your husband.

At what point did he go wrong? He’s always loved you even through insults and arguments that made his self esteem die. All he needed was someone to care for him in his lowest point and the person he needed most left for a three month work period. Leaving him to rot and wallow in the pain of mourning. 

While he may not have loved the seaweed girl, he liked that she was there for him. But maybe that’s where he went wrong. Using her and giving her hope led to his bad karma and here he was, begging his vengeful wife to not fuck his best friend, his brother for who knows how many times. To spare him of any more pain but it was hopeless. Hope is a dangerous thing for a man like him to have.

Haechan had lost a brother that year and now he’s lost another. 

The seasons had come to an agreement and decided to stick to what they’re known for. It was the coldest and gloomiest time to begin a millennium. In contrast to yesterday’s heat, today the prickling wind wouldn’t stop torturing your cheeks. 

Streets were empty and stores had at least a handful of people. Everyone was either rejoicing the world didn’t end or hung over from all the alcohol that coursed their bodies. You only hoped many didn’t start it the way you three did. 

“Welcome in! Order when you’re ready!” 

The diner at the train station was the most packed compared to any other store you’ve passed by. While the elderly waitresses greeted everyone that went in, Donghyuck and Mark found each other sitting silently in one of the booths. You had decided to order some coffees but the line was longer than expected.

Nothing went past subtle glances and sighs. If it wasn’t for the no smoking inside policy, Mark would’ve pulled one out by now to aid his restlessness. As the seconds passed and you didn’t come back, the older of the two sighed one last time and finally decided to open his mouth.

“We didn’t do anything last night.” Hyuck doesn’t question or care to continue. Unlike him, Mark’s conscience was corroding. If you were to leave with him in minutes, he wanted to make peace with his oldest friend. There’s a chance his father will keep him around and whenever he sees the two of you at functions, he doesn’t want things to be awkward. 

He shifts in his seat, leaning over the table. “I’m sorry things turned out this way. She’s just– I don’t know, she’s great.” He fondly chuckles yet Donghyuck’s chuckle was anything but that. If you were to follow Mark's plan, then Haechan hopes Mark can endure the hell you’ve put him through.

“I don’t care, Mark.” The eldest stops to look at his defeated friend. Hyuck had been playing with his wedding band while Mark talked and though it may cause a twinge of jealousy, it shouldn’t be long until he himself has one. RIght?

“I don’t care how things went. All I know is that you’re a fucking traitor. I could’ve expected this from anyone but not you.” Mark tries to apologize but Hyuck’s dark glare shuts him up. With all the pain he’s caused him, why is he acting like everything should be alright between the two? Maybe Mark and you did deserve each other. 

“You know you’ll always be my best friend right? My brother.” Mark’s words weren’t malicious but after everything, Hyuck can only stare at him before letting out a scoff that comes out as a chuckle, granting Mark a grin of disbelief. “Yeah. I believe you.”

Mark responds with a smile but the sour taste in his tongue can’t be scraped away. He’s aware Donghyuck is being sarcastic, he just hopes in the future that he’ll forgive him. As much as this unknown feeling pains him.

“Here, I didn’t want to prepare them and have you two annoy me if it was too sweet.” 

Nonchalantly you included yourself in their conversation as if last night’s scenario was nothing but a nightmare. Early in the morning you had woken them up, sweet talking both of them with a bright smile on your face. Things might have gone south but after a long restless night you weren’t going to let your year go to waste because of them. This is about you and you alone.

Consequently this is what Donghyuck was thinking about. How soon you were going to ignore any of your wrong doings and sweep them under the rug. You were going to force him to forget any ill word you’ve thrown at him for the sake of your peace without regard for his own.

He may be selfish now since the period of you finding out about his affair but he had learned from the best.

Regardless he couldn’t take it anymore and sought his way out towards the restroom where he could have some time alone. If he didn’t have at least five minutes he’d burst your bubble and it was best to not awaken that hurtful beast within.

Neither of you spared him a glance; raising your cup to be polite towards Mark, you take a sip of your coffee, biting your tongue after the liquid burnt it. “Do you want me to go get your ticket while he’s gone?” Mark breaks the ice again, his spoon swirling the mixture of liquids. 

“Hm?” Your confusion catches him off guard, mirroring your knitted eyebrows as you take another sip of the coffee. “Train ticket, y/n.” He nervously chuckles, the spoon in his hand clanking against the table. His words didn’t ring a bell in your mind and all it caused was for an anxious whirlwind in his chest to form.

“For what?”

“You’re leaving with me aren’t you? I mean, you stayed with me last night while he cried his heart out. That should mean something, right? It was your answer, right?”

His voice pitched increasingly the longer you gave him a blank stare. “That’s just a normal argument. Why? Did you get scared?” You giggle, throwing him a smile, acting like you didn’t just burn your tongue for a second time now. 

He tried his best to avoid the feeling of hate and sadness. In his brain you were just joking around with him. A part of him reassured him that at the last minute you’d tell Hyuck he could go to hell and you’d accompany Mark’s journey for eternity after. He was so sure of it after all he’s witnessed. But worry and doubt would never failed to fuck with him. 

“Y/n… Last night you– I love you, y/n.”

“How low can one get to sleep with his brother’s wife? I don't see that as love.”

The sentence had cut deep in him, enough that no type of medication could cure the ache in his heart.

“We had plans, y/n for fucks sake.” His voice cracked, lips trembling ready to cry. “No, you had plans.“ It slips through gritted teeth, his eyes sharp like your tongue that spewed venom into his heart. 

“If you took a second to listen to those plans, you’d realize how selfish and self centered they are.” You were beginning to get angry. Mostly for the fact that he’s bursting the bubble Hyuck was avoiding. The facade was over, Hyuck knew about you two, and Mark wasn’t being mindful of your own feelings. 

“How?” 

“How? I move out with you and start a new life in which I’ll be staying at home and you’ll work. How familiar does that sound?” The wind gushed outside, slapping the windows in order to make Mark put some effort. 

“It’ll be different…” he cleared his voice, it was meek and silent, an obvious restraint in wanting to admit it wasn’t too different from what you have right now. “How is it going to be different, Mark? Tell me how.” The whirlwind in your own chest contradicted his. While he felt anxious you grew annoyed.

“So are you leaving with me today or not?” Mark raised his head, finally looking you in the eye. There should be a part of you that preferred him regardless, no? After everything you two have experienced and the way he’s made you feel, why wouldn’t you choose him? He needs you for fuck’s sake.

Placing your cup down to look back at him, a grimace of annoyance decorated your lips. “You haven’t learnt anything have you?” You leaned over the table, feeling the lifting wood poking your ribcage. “My grandma always used to say: If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.“

“God can laugh but I still have my plans. Now it’s up to you if you slip out of his grasp and move in with me. I’ll figure out how to make it different eventually. I’ll be waiting for you.” His eyes betrayed the harsh tone in his voice but Mark wanted it to be clear that he’d do anything to cater to you. Even if it meant that you’d break his heart from time to time.

Mark looked outside the window, sand from the beach danced across the platform entrance. Like Donghyuck, he couldn’t bear being in your presence now. Accidentally bumping into the table while he stands, Mark makes way towards the door, not before throwing you one last glance. 

However you weren’t too keen on putting others over yourself.

“Donghyuck is my husband.” You spat, back angrily hitting the cold plastic booth backrest. In his desperate agony, he fumbled out the door with those same words ringing as loudly as the entrance bell. 

The mentioned man had gotten out not long after Mark had left, questioning his whereabouts but dismissed by you asking him to walk along the shoreline while you all waited for Mark’s train to arrive.

After speaking with Mark in which he took refuge in the platform benches, it allowed for both you and Hyuck to take the opportunity to bask in the presence of each other. 

What was there to say? Any argument and reproach had been screamed last night, enough to hurt everyone involved but mainly him. 

For someone that wanted to avoid a horrible start of a new age, you had failed and all that was left was the mixture of resentment and anger towards the two men in your current life. 

Hyuck similar to you, shared those sentiments with the exception he wasn’t too angry. Rather than so he was sad. Sad at the fact that his best friend, his brother, could've done that to him. To smile and laugh under his roof while fucking his wife and not feeling guilt whatsoever. In fact the bastard gloated as if you had chosen him instead.

While he had no room to judge, he still had the right to feel horrible about this now confirmed betrayal. He wondered if you felt this pain when you found out. You had expressed your anger through destroying the house and becoming cold towards him until Mark showed up but that was about it. He never had the chance to see you cry about what he had done and he believes he never will. 

You did cry of course. Despite the way you treated him and tossed him around, ignoring his cries for help, you still loved him. You loved how attentive and kind he was. You loved that he stuck by your side after your lashings and the nostalgia of how sweet he was when pursuing you. So to realize that there was a possibility of him doing all that for someone else broke you. 

Why would he confess profound love until his final breath just to go on and have a fling with the next girl that gave him attention while you’re gone? Well it was easy and while he started telling you last night, you needed more.

Stopping in your tracks, feet away from the platform and people; you turn to the ocean, watching the increased height of the crashing waves. Their splashing kisses your skin and the wind makes your hair dance across your face. 

When noticing, Hyuck turns his body to you, tucking away the strands behind your ear. His warm hand lingered for a few seconds on your cold damp cheek, staring with sorrow embedded into his pupils. It’s fascinating how often your bodies contradict each other. He didn’t say anything, all he did was look at you, eyes flickering across your stoic face. Many things crossed your mind but your face never showed it. 

Up until he dropped his hand and stood beside you to be consumed in the whirlwinds of today’s weather; your voice interrupted his silence. No thoughts in his head but now the melody of your voice swirled around in his cranium. 

“Do you think in another universe we could’ve been happy together?”

You didn’t turn but he does, the confusion on his face easing when the question washes over him. 

“Perhaps when we learn to fix our mistakes and flaws.” “What flaws? Yours?” “Right.”

He laughs exhaustedly. In this universe or any other, he didn’t believe you’ll ever be able to accept that you’ve also fucked up. It was notable that you were able to admit you and Mark had been fucking but even that you blamed on him. He wouldn’t complain, there’s no doubt that you did it out of spite but regardless he knew what he was talking about. 

You couldn’t wrap your head around last night’s information. Maybe because your affair consisted of pure carnal desire but you couldn’t understand how Donghyuck didn’t take that approach with the catering girl. 

“W-why her?..”

There was no intention for your words to come out shaky. What you feared was your walls starting to crack at this information. On his part, Hyuck didn’t want to speak much anymore. He knew if he told you more, you’d be upset and he feared you’d throw a fit again but your insistence by holding onto his arms and hesitating to pull him close was enough. 

Glancing at you with worry, he sighs. His head drops and turns to the sea hoping it could swallow him. “My brother died a week before and you left, y/n. You left me for three months when I needed you most and you barely answered any of my calls. And I know you didn’t just leave for work, I know you didn’t want to deal with me but she did.” 

Your world came crashing down on you. He was right, you did leave to not deal with his emotions to get away from him and to avoid the feeling of grief all over again. When his parents had come over to tell him the news it reminded you too much of your mother’s death. Sad part is that when you came back he too had replaced you with another woman the same way your father did with your mom. 

At the end of the day your plan had backfired on you. You didn’t know how to comfort him nor wanted to, dealing with the strong emotions of others was never your thing. But till this day you’re paying the consequences as he is. 

“She listened and comforted me. I guess I confused it with love because the second you came back all that flooded my mind was you regardless that you left me or all the times you called me useless for not doing things your way. You could add that to the reasons. She was nice, if I made a mistake she wouldn’t berate me and instead helped me with it. Why did you change, y/n? You were so sweet and suddenly you just… dropped the act.”

To hear it come from his mouth crushed your heart. To an extent you knew your actions would have led to this outcome but you always put the blame on him. 

You shrug, throwing him a quick glance. “I’ve always been like this, Hyuck.”

“No, the girl I fell in love with was sweet and playful. You became mean and cold after we got married.”

“You changed so much too. Once you started getting promotions you became such a pompous ass. Constantly staying out for meetings till 2 AM, always smelling like alcohol, and lessening the help at home. Then after the affair you gave up so fast in trying to amend anything that you became worse and that’s when the constant fighting began.”

He couldn’t forget of course. He still recalls you shredding to pieces the book of poems he wrote to you and binded. He felt his heart go when you had done that; watching his hard work and feelings just thrown away over a petty argument of who would walk the dog next. Sad to say when those poems were destroyed the dog went out next. Every fruit of your love withered little by little. 

Donghyuck took refuge in his job to stay away from you. Despite how in pain he was, he still had hope things would get better, that maybe you’d forget and try to work it out again. By the time Mark had arrived, that hope had died out and he was tired of the cycle that he just mimicked your way of treating him.

Nevertheless in the past months that you changed how you treated him, it blossomed again. Of course, good things never last and when his suspicions kept being thrown at his face, he understood what life had brought upon him. 

He hums as a response, sighing loudly in the process. “I don’t think we can be happy any time soon but at least this is making us actually talk about it now.” His deep voice adds, turning to you to get a sweet answer but he was simply met with a cheeky smile and: “So we’re even now?”

He laughs finding it unbelievable. No apology or anything of the sort. Some things won't change too fast but regardless his sentiment was similar. “Yeah. We’re even.”

A relieved smile spreads on your face, nodding in agreement. “Till death do us apart.” No matter how much you two confess your disdain for each other, you’ll always be together. Call it sadomasochism or exhausting familiarity but you and your husband are sticking together. 

All these years you were waiting for Donghyuck’s downfall and having him confess it has been happening all along had alleviated that weight on your shoulders. You had done it and he was paying for hurting you. Some sentiments never change but even with that information, you aren’t satisfied. What you two had was ruined and everyone involved ended up losing.

The locomotive was louder than expected. In addition the conductors and ticketing people were heard even from where you two stood. This was it, Mark’s time was over with you two.

Cocking his head for you to follow him; with hooked arms, the both of you make way to the bench where Mark sits nervously. His legs shake from either the cold or wondering if you’ll still leave with him. Even now that he sees how close and happy you and Hyuck look together, he’s willing to convince himself it’s another front.

“Got everything ready?” Hyuck calls out for his friend. Mark stands from his spot, nodding as he releases the smoke of his millionth cigarette. “Yeah, yeah. Just–” He lifts the stick between his fingers. “Can’t have one in there.” Mark chuckles, his vision removing itself from you two. 

“I’ll call you guys when I get to the apartment. Taeyong and mom are going to help me get the paintings out. Do you want me to do anything before I leave the key?” It was mostly directed at Donghyuck, that sliver of hope clinging tightly. You were the one to speak instead. 

“Maybe water the plants if they’re not dead yet.”

In recollection of what you two did together, Mark had remembered the plant you two helped sprout. The last time he paid attention to it, it was bright and green. Now he imagines it dull and dead. 

He nods with a tight lipped smile, inhaling from the warm cigarette butt. Silences lingered momentarily but Hyuck was the one to cut through it. “We’ll see you for your housewarming, alright?” Mark nods, standing when you two stopped clinging to each other.

“Take care, okay?” “Okay.” 

The hoarseness in his voice threatened him the longer he clung to Donghyuck. This was it for the two of them and he had thrown it out for lust. His only rock was leaving him. When it came to you, the hug wasn’t tight enough, something in his heart told him that you’ll be joining him soon.

But little by little as you and Donghyuck make way down the steps and out the platform, he wonders how much longer till you run back inside to get your ticket.

His hope had dwindled slowly back at the diner when you had cruelly crushed his expectations. Up until now that flame was left but not seeing even your locks had turned it off. All that is left is the delusional idea that you’d actually fall through with the plans he made for the both of you. Chances fell slim the closer last call came around. 

There was no trace of you or Hyuck outside the station, all there left was the cold winter with the addition of families or couples enjoying themselves oblivious to his pain dispersing through his entire body. 

His teeth shattered while he shivered, the cigarette in between his lips doing nothing for comfort or warmth; Mark was alone and cold. The only source of physicality came from the ticket staff to let him know this was the last call before the train left. He nodded, giving one last look around, feeling his face scrunch up after ridding of his cigarette. 

The cold bit him harshly, tears smeared his face holding back his sobs now that reality had settled. His cold hands wiped away the boiling streams that burnt his cheeks but it only made his skin ache more. He didn’t care if people could see his sorrow painted on his face. All he has now are memories, paintings, and pictures. 

He will never see you two again. 

taglist: @haknyeonsju @bbymatz @seungjiseyo @theskzvibe @wonyofanclub @lovingvoidgoatee

[scoobydoodean]

I think people tend to view Dean as more unhinged about Sam because Sam seems to be the one shown consistently "fine" living without Dean. Like S8 Sam and series finale Sam. Like not trying to get Dean back. Whereas in S6 Dean said he tried to get Sam out of the Cage but kept hitting dead ends. But he didn't just let Sam go like he said he would. Sam seems to be less hesitant to just let Sam go and more able to live on without Dean. Idk what are your thoughts on this?

Context

The thing is is that I don't feel the need to respond to the notion that being willing to sacrifice yourself for your brother is more unhinged than killing people to keep him alive or get him back or get revenge on his behalf. Because I don't think that's true at all. All that difference reflects is Sam's willingness to go to morally questionable lengths beyond where Dean will go. Dean's moral compass will cause him to hit a point where his only option is self-sacrifice long before Sam ever hits that wall.

That said... some of what you've said is extremely misleading.

Between season 3 and 4, Sam ignored Bobby's calls and spent months in a bottle stumbling drunk, drinking hard liquor straight from a bottle. He captured a crossroad's demon and tried to trade his life for Dean's (Gifset), and tried to open The Devil's gate (Gifset). He at one point planned to charge into battle against Lilith knowing he would lose and die—it's an intentional suicide mission (4.09). He also readily rejects Dean's dying wishes by working with Ruby for revenge against Lilith (Gifset).

Contrast this with season 6: Dean researched how to get Sam out of The Cage—in books--on the side while living with Lisa and Ben, without risking his own life or anyone else's, and without trying to make any demon deals or do anything else reckless, and while managing PTSD.

Which of these people actually sounds more "fine"? Because there's an objectively correct answer here and it's not Sam.

Season 8 Sam is an exception—not the rule. What we're looking at is not character growth (we need no more proof of that than season 10 and The Book of the Damned). The Reason Sam Is Like That™️ is because he's experiencing a break from reality.

As for 15.20 Sam, we have no idea if Sam tried to find a way to bring Dean back. SPNWin might actually suggest Sam has been trying to get Dean back the entire time Dean's been dead (depending on whether you think "Clarence" is an obvious Cas reference, whether the brother relationship makes it clear he's Sam, or whether he's both). Regardless, at that point we are dealing with a Sam who has maxxed out his knowledge about the pitfalls encountered when you try to bring back your family (this includes Jack). This makes him generally less reckless because he vividly understands the consequences. We see the same thing with Dean as early as season 6, and again in 13.21, when he thinks Sam has been torn apart and is convinced to leave Sam behind and prioritize the safety of the people around him instead.

Additionally, a lot of the less versus more reckless plays the brothers make with their own lives have to do with how badly they might be struggling with suicidal ideation at one point or another. This is a massive motivator for Dean's deal in 2.22 for example. His actions aren't just about Sam—they're also about his belief that he "came back wrong" and shouldn't be alive, and that dying will set the universe right. Literally the entire season he is struggling with the intense guilt and a sense of wrongness over being alive.

So yeah. One time, Sam abandoned Dean to die. At other times, he came up with plans that involved sacrificing himself, or other people, or dedicated himself to revenge to the exclusion of all else.

[completeoveranalysis]

Of Yūko's customers, which ones you find most memorable?

Most memorable customers, you say?

I hope you don't mind me using this as an excuse to make an arbitrary list by way of answer. (Arbitrary lists, my beloved...)

Yuuko's Customers In Order Of How Well I Remember Them

(Though I will exclude all the bigger characters for fairness. So, Syaoran, Watanuki, Lava Lamp, Fai, Kurogane, Doumeki, Himawari, Seishirou, Ashura, Tomoyo, etc, etc. Regular xxxHolic customers only!)

10. Birdcage Customer

What was this about? Was he even a customer? We just don't know!

But the thing most memorable about this whole situation is the most pressing question: WHY DO YOU HAVE EVIL WOLVERINE'S SYMBOL ALL OVER YOUR HOME? It's even on his front sign!

WHO ARE YOU?????

9. The Liar

Mostly at the bottom because I can't resist the irony. She's the first big customer we see - but what do we really know about her? Absolutely nothing, because she lied every step of the way!

What can we really remember about someone who never actually told us anything about herself?

Though I guess you could say her ending causes quite an impact.

8. Monkey's Paw Customer

Did I forget this had happened? Perhaps!

She's one of those cases where the cause and effect are so clear that the rest of the cast might as well not even be there - and I think most of her story IS told through scenes entirely from her perspective.

I think the most memorable thing about her is the Sheer Audacity of hunting down a monkey's paw and being convinced that, actually, she already knows what it does so it can't possibly go wrong. Love that for her. Would kill for this confidence.

(Not literally - but she kind of did that also)

7. Ame Warashi

Her impeccable style. Her winning charm. She's an icon.

I had just completely forgotten that she was also a customer at one point.

She makes up for it for being absolutely great in every scene she was in, but what are you going to do in a list based purely on how well I remember the customer part? Woops! My bad!

6. Karasu Tengu

They get huge points for this being a Central Event in the narrative, but also I completely forgot they were in this as customers. The entire plot scenario? Incredible! Character defining! Et cetera!

The actual Karasu Tengu themselves? Woops! I forgot they were there. My fault though!

5. The Computer Addict

I love this one. She's so ahead of the curve that she was addicted to the internet back when you had to be on the pc to use it. Honestly, relatable. I also went through a phase like this as a young teen, so the struggle was real.

Little did we all know that in the present day the accessibility of the internet would be so rampant that she literally wouldn't even need that pc to indulge her habits anymore. Oops!

But that aside Yuuko is peak during this arc and I love everything about it. Especially the fact that Yuuko just hangs out on message boards in her free time? Wonderful information. I can do so much with this.

4. Oops! All Ghosts

Another incredible storyline. The twists are preserved by some sneaky panels from Watanuki's perspective and Yuuko's morally grey approach to the whole situation is wonderful. What if you wanted to get rid of the ghost in your home, only to find out that YOU were the ghost all along? It has the DISTRESS. It has the CONFLICT. It has the TRAGEDY. 10/10

3. Haunted Photo

Another customer with Peak Audacity. Trying to wish away the consequences of your own actions? Committing something awful but being unable to actually look at the proof yourself? The ultimate wish being an anxiety inducing curse that is sure to fail? Love it.

It's also one of those juicy situations where the morality of the situation basically drives itself. The customer causes her own problems and can't actually be saved - and doesn't deserve it either.

And honestly I think CLAMP should get a lot of credit for having the haunting effects of a photograph slowly turning around in a purely static medium. They really pulled that off.

I still love the evil smile in the photograph the last time we see it. PURE memorable.

2. The Twin

WE LOVE HER? WE LOVE HER.

Being consistently cut off and run down and overwritten and slowly clawing your way out of the situation through the sheer desire to be your own person?

And then the answer is a haircut?

It's another glimpse into the side of Yuuko that really does try cut people a good bargain. The wish could have been taken in any number of ways, but Yuuko went for the easiest and most affordable way that would genuinely help the customer actually fix her life on her own. She didn't specifically need supernatural help for this, but it was the route that presented itself, and it was the one that got her the help she needed when she needed it. Very hitsuzen, very relatable, very identifiable storyline that sticks with you.

Just like the final entry!

1. Kohane

Listen do I even need to explain this one.

Kohane is like THE storyline. It's THE example of what it's all about. It's not entirely supernatural in nature but completely heart wrenching. It has Watanuki playing a central role in fixing the problem, setting up for his future (or at least, what I assume it will be). It ties xxxHolic to Tsubasa and hints at a secret tool that will help with someone later.

And it has Kohane! You can't go wrong.