#and i noticed today he has nice long eyelashes and I think that’s so cute | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

messwriting · 4 years ago

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Written for the Whorehouse Compilation [RAW DOG 1080p] (Try Not To CUM) Collab: Masterlist.

Open wide: the Doctor is IN

Shirabu Keijiro x Female Reader

Doctor Shirabu gives you a very special treatment on your first appointment.

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Note: I’m sorry for being this late to the party. The cursed porn search we all have looked at least once (some... lots of times hehehe). THANKS TO @dymphnasprose for the little porn search bar i love them so much ;-; <3 My (very) late contribution to the Whorehouse Server CUMpilation. Thanks for letting me participate Miki! Doctor Shirabu is ready to see you now.

Warnings: POSSIBLE TRIGGERING CONTENT. CONSENSUAL NON-CONSENT. DOCTOR/PATIENT. MEDICAL PLAY. INAPPROPRIATE TOUCHES. WRONG GYNECOLOGICAL EXAM. Breast exam but not really. Corruption Kink. MEDICAL KINK. Use of medical equipment in inappropriate ways. ANAL PLAY. Established relationship clarified at the end: role-play. Poorly researched medical stuff. Overuse of Good Girl.

Word count: ~4.4k

You’re such a cute little thing.

Sitting on top of the big, pristine examination table, waiting for him while wearing an easy summer dress, square heels dangling from one side to the other as your hands fumble with your own fingers on your lap, eyes flying to him immediately as he enters the close space - big, bright eyes shining in the dull white hospital room, framed by beautiful eyelashes and soft makeup. Your tempting lips are almost deployed of lipstick from as much your teeth have punished the plush flesh.

“Hello.” Shirabu greets you with an easy smile, one that he doesn’t really use despite the little effort it takes.

“Oh, hi Doctor.” There’s an anxious smile on your lips and Shirabu feels a tingle start on his fingertips, climb his arm, spread down his back to burn in his guts. You’re so pretty when you’re nervous.

“How are we today? You can come and sit by the chair first.” Shirabu moves calmly, closing the door behind him; carefully turning the key without bringing attention. He’s still testing the waters but he can gather that you’re a trusting one, waiting to hear from him what exactly you need to do and then do it.

“Ahhh, um… I’m good, just came for my annual checkup.” You say while taking a seat on the chairs, only risking one look up at his face, then lowering those eyes onto his coat, clearly reading his name. Your expression seems surprised… but pleased. Is it because he’s young or because he’s attractive? Shirabu can’t decide, but there’s a clear smile in his lips as he looks you over, then circles his way to sit behind the table.

“Is this your first time here? If not, when was your last appointment?”

“Actually,” Your eyes meet his when your head angles up and you scurry them down as if you’re embarrassed. Your lips are once again suffering under your teeth before you free them and speak, “It’s my first. Like, ever.”

“Oh,” Shirabu let’s slip with a breath. There’s too much joy in that little sigh and in his tone when he asks, “Really?”

Your head goes up and down first, fingers fumbling, then you seem to remember that you need to speak with him, “Yes.”

“Do you have a medical file here already? Any complaints I should know?” Shirabu covers the usual bases first, calmly checking his agenda and time, how much he can have with you and how he can extend it.

“Hm… No complaints, except…” You fall silent for a moment and Shirabu can feel the burning in your face all the way through the table.

“It’s okay.” He’s quick to tranquilize you, “I’m your Doctor, you can tell me anything.”

“I think my birth-control is… uh, how can I say this? Making me… a little numb?” You tell him in a low voice, a hint of worry slipping through as you try to send him a little embarrassed smile as if you’re worried he may feel bad about it.

Shirabu is quick to smile back, so pleased at how you relax and melt back into yourself at the sight of it. He can’t help but think you’re such a good girl. “You didn’t answer the first question, though.”

“It’s my first time in the clinic as well. A friend of mine recommended it to me.” You give a precious little giggle as if your nervousness scrambles your train of thought and Shirabu thinks it’s endearing, especially the fact that you’re a pretty little thing who doesn’t know best and you’ve ended right on his lap.

Well, he plans to make the most of it.

“Hmm, understood. So, Miss… Is it Miss?” Shirabu sends you a charming smile, one he knows it’s good, and your eyes seem to flash with something at the sight of it, your throat bobbing right before your lips split in a little smile.

“Yes,” you giggle his way with a little roll of your eyes, as if it’s obvious and he makes a surprised face along with another dazzling smile. Shirabu has smiled more in the last ten minutes than n his whole week and he’s face will soon protest.

“Really? You’re so pretty, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone had already planted a ring on your finger.” God knows he would, and as fast as he could, too.

You bite at your lips to avoid a smile planting itself in your face, eyes fleeing from his as your hands fist your dress and you left a little breathy laugh out. As if he’s being ridiculous.

“Okay Miss, so since it’s your first time doing this check-up, I’ll need you to do a few things for me, okay?”

“Sure, Doctor.” God, that shouldn’t mess him up as it does, the hairs on his arm standing on edge at the delicious sound of it in your voice.

“I’ll need you to go to that bathroom right there, strip all your clothes including underwear and change into the paper gown that’s right on top of a cabinet there. Leave the opening to the front and then come back to sit at that examination table right there. Can you do this for me?”

“Of course, Doctor.” Warmth spreads from his body, rolls thick with his blood around his limbs and starts concentrating south. Jesus, you’ll be his demise like this.

“Good. Now go.”

Once you’re out of sight, Shirabu makes arrangements. And when you come back, clad in nothing but a paper-thin gown that leaves little to the imagination, he buttons his coat as long as it goes. Just to be sure.

His eyes thread carefully over your barely concealed body, enthralled by how your breathing comes in quick puffs of air, goosebumps rising on your skin under the cold temperature of the room. Pressing against the warmth of his palm at the slight touch of his fingers on your shoulder.

“You can sit at the examination table. We’ll start with a breast exam before you lie down, okay?” Shirabu knows his voice is sweeter than usual; carefully built in a trusty tone, words rolling off his mouth a little deeper, a little low - all just so he can assure he has your attention.

“I’ll start with a breast exam and then you can lie down.” He explains his steps one by one, so when he opens the front of the barely existing paper gown, all you do is take a sharp breath and slowly let the air out. So nice. Such a good girl for him.

He carefully brings his fingers to glide over the outskirts of your breasts, pressing on your flesh with steady, slow to warm digits. Shirabu feels as you fidget slowly when he circles the flesh once, slow and deliberate with the pressure he applies. “I’m checking for any unusual lumps around the tissue,” Shirabu tells that so close to your face he can feel the warm wave of air your gasp lets out at his words, and he pretends the little taste does nothing for him despite the way his blood boils in his veins.

He does the same circular motion a second time, then a third time in reverse, and all but grin in his self-satisfied way when he notices the shy nub stand to attention. Your brows are furrowed even from such little stimulation, throat bobbing as your mouth sucks cold puffs of breaths inside your lungs.

Shirabu’s digits slide up your collarbone, then press together in a quick motion from all the way up to under your breast, stealing just the slight touch over your erected nipple.

“Please put your hand over my shoulder,” Shirabu says carefully, detached; and is delighted when you push a little dazed “what” out your swollen lips.

He can’t help but smirk; poor little lamb is lost to the wolf around her - and his claws are already in.

“Like this, honey.” His hand takes yours in his, open your palm with his fingers to press it on his shoulder, a wide-angle that gives him better access and provides for a comfortable examination.

“Hm, okay!” You strangle it out, cute and bashful and Shirabu feels his slacks getting tighter.

“Good,” he breathes close to your face and restarts his movements, digits massaging up and down your chest, right side first as his fingertips get together to start to draw patterns from outside until the center in a repeated motion that ends with just a barely-there, butterfly touch over your nipples as he does a careful glide around the circle.

Your shoulders tremble and curve inwards as your abdomen seizes, hints of your pleasure that Shirabu can pinpoint even without his medical expertise. It makes his heart soars; such a little innocent thing that you can’t even speak up about it, just quietly suffering from the need growing inside you until you’ll burst.

His hand stops under your breast to weigh it, palm covering the extension of flesh as his thumb slides in a fond motion to the sides.

“Now I’ll do the left,” Shirabu announces and feels as you tense, eyes looking up at him in a lost haze even as you blink and nod. There’s a small storm brewing inside your eyes clouding them over, as if you’re struggling to catch up to his fingers, trying to fully wrap around his motions and still falling victim of your innocence, agreeable and placid, trained and directed to respect authority.

Dr. Shirabu knows best, you’re probably thinking as you nod once again, hands grabbing at anything they can to hide their trembling. Then he starts his ministrations by rolling your nipple with his thumb, drawing a gasp from you.

“Oh, sorry,” Shirabu says with fake sorrow before he starts the circling massage around your breasts once again.

A humming agreement is all you answer him, lips pressed together as if you’re embarrassed by the noise you’ve left. Oh, poor little thing.

He can’t wait to ruin you.

Shirabu wonders if you can notice how he changes the motions of his fingers this time around, pressing closer to the center and around the halo of your breast as he kneads the delicious mound with his digits.

Your knees are practically pressed together and you’re struggling to hold your shoulders up in a straight line and Shirabu is absolutely delighted at causing your downfall with such little, fickle things as the point of his fingers.

He waits for the moment where your teeth close sharply over your swollen lips, holding both breath and noise inside, and angles both his hands to press under your breasts, upwards motion that is a good excuse for groping - not that you’d know. Your spine curves as your head turn down in waves of burning hot embarrassment at your own behavior and Shirabu simply has to move before he does something bad.

Well, worst.

“All done,” he tells you with a small curve on his lips as he steps back. You wait for him to turn before letting a breath out, but even that sounds sharp in the silence of the room. Shirabu hides his hands from your eyes in his pockets, fingers twitching in the absence of your smooth skin under his digits.

“Now we’ll pass to the examination.” The little tremble in your frame is enough to add twisting fire into his veins, temperature rising even when the air conditioning is running low. Shirabu does his best in making his voice sound unaffected and neutral, walking over to the stirrups and adjacent dressing table where he keeps his medical gloves.

“You can lie down and put your legs over the supports.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

You obey like a good girl, the simple motion already flashing him the precious skin underneath, legs spread wide open and immobilized. Anxious eyes look for his in reassurance, then seem to think better of it as they fall down to watch your open legs. The view making you squirm once again in the padded table.

So precious.

And trusting.

Your hands are clasped over your belly in an attempt to keep them from fidgeting, eyes eagerly fleeting between Shirabu’s frame and the ceiling. He sends a smile your way as he pulls the chair close to the stirrups and your disconcert is practically charming.

When Shirabu walks over to sit between your open legs, his cock strains against his slacks, immoral coil twisted hard at the small peak of heavenly skin, of glistening folds swollen by the blood flow.

If only he could lick it.

There’s a tremble to your form that he can’t pinpoint, but the wide-open arch of your legs immobile over the stirrups clear are involved in; that, and the pulsating arousal in your center, if the way you’re throbbing open for him is any indication.

Shirabu had considered going slow, threading carefully before taking what he wants, but the fortitude of his mind is being challenged by the view alone: You, laying on the table, legs spread and skin glowing. It’s wicked. Shirabu wishes so much to taste, but he’s snapping his gloves on instead.

“Are you sexually active?” He makes small talk, chair sounding loud in the silent room as he finally takes his place on it.

“I’m, uh, not for a while.”

“Any unprotected intercourse?”

“Hm... N-no.” Huh. Shirabu doubts he was able to hide the motion in his lips signaling that the little slip in your tone isn’t lost. “Are you certain? We may need to do a test, just to be sure.”

Your eyes fleet to him, shining in the artificial illumination, flustered expression as you down them for your clasped hands after. It’s rather endearing to watch as your anxious behavior spike, the way you’re unable to twist or move, pinned there by physical barrier more than just his eyes.

“It’s possible.” You answer him, meek, and he tries not to smile. “But I’ve been on the pill.”

“Ok, then. You mentioned numbness. Did you mean during intercourse or just in general?”

“Sometimes general, but normally when I’m… touching… myself.”

Oh well. What a nice little improvement. His eyes bore on yours between the valley of your legs, the air surrounding you both turning thicker.

“Understood. I’m going to be touching you now.”

You nod, and then gasp when his hands actually touch the inside of your open thighs, a light caress to satiate the need to know how soft and plush you feel, and it’s exactly as much as you look. You suck in a breath slowly, and Shirabu lets his fingers slide up to your hot center.

“I’ll start with the pelvic exam. If you feel any pain or discomfort, just say so.” You nod and he starts slowly, two gloved fingers carefully threading over the swollen labia with acute precision, circling motions as he caresses the underside of your most sensitive place and downwards, rounds the dripping wet entrance, and sliding back up, fingers opening in a “v” motion, a small twirl around the engorged nub above it all. “I’m making an exterior exam, any numbness?”

You nod your negative. Eyes barely holding themselves open, teeth sunk on your lips. “Tell me if you either don’t feel anything or feel anything hurting.”

“Okay,” it’s mostly a whine, breath leaving your mouth as soon as you open it. He descends a third finger over your sex, up and down circling motions that rip a groan from your throat.

“Does anything hurt?” Shirabu’s voice is collected, calm, a stark contrast to the throbbing length in his pants. “Numb?”

“I...don’t think so?” You’re trembling, voice breathless as the stirrups squeaking under the strain of your thighs and Shirabu’s other hand comes up, palm planting over your pelvis, feeling the soft skin and then pressing his palm on it.

“Doesn’t seem like you have a problem with sensibility.” He tries to reassure you as his fingers thread to your entrance, indicator slowly tracing the tight circle pulsating in front of his eyes. You’re dripping wet, soaking his gloves and all he can think is what a delicious little patient.

“I’ll be entering you now, okay? There’s no need for the speculum, so I’m performing a touch exam.”

“Oh-kay, doctor,” comes your little gruff voice, putty under his hands and opening up nicely for his fingers when he presses inside. You’re tight, wonderfully so, clinging to his gloved fingers. Shirabu angles them up and deep, your blistering warmth spreading from his digits to his arm and then his whole body.

He’ll have to find a way to “test” you there, as well. He doesn’t retreat his fingers, but he aims the motions of them inside and above, looking for the sensitive place that’s bound to make you-

“Ah!”

There it is. Shirabu chuckles and rounds the place with his digits as your knees buckle inside then angling out, spreading wide. He retreats his fingers, rolling them with a little scissoring, then plunges deeper inside as an excuse of trying to reach your cervix. If only he could use his cock- that’d be way easier.

“And now?” Shirabu asks, wicked. “Any pain? Numbness?”

“N-uhnn-” You try to speak but choke on a soft moan, your hands flying to your face as you swallow and answer him back in a trembling tone, “No.”

“Anything else?” It’s teasing, clearly, but you don’t seem to notice it, dazed eyes searching for him as you wet your mouth before speaking.

“It feels… weird.”

“Really? ” Shirabu spreads his fingers a bit, rolls them to feel around your walls. “Why’s that?”

“I- I don’t know. It’s… good.”

“Hmmm… That’s interesting.” His gloved thumb descends over your labia, rolls over your clitoris with strict precision, fingers angling inside to meticulously hit that special place once again. The table squeaks under the strength of your buckling, open cunt pulsating around his fingers in plain view for his appreciative eyes. “You seem to be a bit oversensitive, not numb.”

“Is that- a problem?” You say between breaths as Shirabu’s thumb rolls over your clit. He’s astonished you don’t question any of his debatable moves, only looking at him with dazed, soft eyes.

“Depends. Do you always leak like this? It can be a condition.” Shirabu presses his palm over your pelvic bone, angle his fingers meticulously and swirl your clitoris with his thumb in firm precision. You moan and immediately recoil in embarrassment, mouth agape in your own surprise. Shirabu scissors his fingers in a rotating motion, inside and out for barely a few seconds and your spine arches off the table, mouth falling in a wide “o” as you tremble on his examination table.

Delicious.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No,” you answer in a breath.

Shirabu palms his length to release the pressure, cock straining at the soft expression of rapture on your eyes. “Everything seems good inside; But maybe you’re sensitive. I’ll keep that in mind for the next exams.”

“Is it… done?”

“Almost.” Shirabu smiles, but it's a be-ready-for-trouble one. “All we need is the ultrasound for the internal exam.”

“I thought you had just-”

“This one was the touch one, the next one is done with the ultrasound equipment. It will be inserted inside and then I’ll be able to take a good look at your uterus health.”

“Oh, okay.”

You seem focused on catching your breath as your stretched hole keeps winking at him, as if begging for more. Unfortunately, Shirabu has to move on. He pulls the equipment table close, moves the screen to the side and at a fairly inaccessible angle for your eyes. The transducer reminds a wand, long, shaped anatomically thin with a slightly larger head, barely two-fingers girth.

“Have you ever orgasmed before? Sensitive dysfunction can make it harder for women to achieve sexual gratification.”

“I… actually don’t know…”

Shirabu slides a condom on it, drops a generous amount of lube over it and then turns to you with a smile. Your legs twitch and your walls clench and he has a strike of brilliance right there as he eyes the pretty furl of muscle under your pleading pussy.

You yelp as he brings a lubed finger to draw rings over your rear, embarrassed eyes quickly searching for his.

“Doctor?!”

“Oh, sorry. The equipment goes in anally. Didn’t I mention that?”

“No?!” You groan, surprised, a soft breath escaping your lips.

“Sorry. I’m just preparing you, passing something to help it.” Shirabu explains, as a liar, and slowly work you open with his indicator pressing inside - carefully, slowly, with clinical precision until his whole knuckle is inside and your breathing is labored, open pussy throbbing for something he can’t give it to you just yet. How precious. “I’m inserting it now. Please tell me if it hurts.”

Shirabu angles the device on the lubed hole and watches, enthralled, as your ass swallows it’s wider head whole with just the first push, the rest of the body following easily as the tight ring presses the overflowing lube out. Fuck. Shirabu’s cock is weeping uncontrollably inside his slacks and he carefully brings a hand to help with the tightness of his pants, opening it enough to allow his thick length to escape free, but still covered by his lab coat.

Then Shirabu presses the device deeper, the angle sharp. He brings the receptor over your belly, presses way to closer to the apex of your sex. “Does it hurts?”

“No,” you breathe out, dazed.

“Does it feel good?”

“...Yes,” you sigh.

“Hmmm, interesting.” Shirabu retreats it, pretending to angle it somewhere else. He moves the equipment a bit more and your knees tremble as your pussy starts to drip on the floor. Jesus, that’s fucking hot. He leaves the receptor over your skin to fly his hand to his cock, slowly pumping it to relieve the throbbing ache. You’re way too lost in your own pleasure to notice his, and that only makes him more feral.

“You can feel something entering you now, but it’s just another equipment,” Shirabu says as he abandons his aching cock to slide two fingers inside your pleading hole, instead. He’s not even sure you understood his warning. Cute.

“Doctor,” you breathe, almost panicked and Shirabu rolls his thumb over your clit to hear you yelp, your ass tight around the transductor as he scissors his fingers on your wide-open cunt.

“Yes?”

“I feel... “ You sound so wrecked and lost, a shiver wandering down Shirabu’s spine as his throat bobs. Your pussy throbs around his fingers, begging for something it can’t even pinpoint. Poor thing.

“Pain?”

“No? Something… else.” Such a cute breathless voice, chest heaving with rabbit-fast beats that Shirabu almost can feel on his fingers deep inside your soaking walls.

“Pleasure?” He offers, fighting the need to smile at how your confused expression, brows furrowed as you try to think of another word but come ultimately short.

“I…” You start but bite your lips to hold the noise at how he aims at your special spot. Then blink twice, still losing the fight against the thick pleasure fog in your mind. “I guess?”

“Wow.” You’re so honest. Shirabu’s surprise is fairly genuine. He hopes his tone sounds more understanding than completely hungry. “Well… It’s not unusual for patients to feel arousal by exams considering their invasive nature. It’s okay, don’t panic.”

“But,” You start, tense and writhing, but Shirabu stands up, the equipment in your ass changing angle but his eyes are finding yours in the distance.

“It’s okay,” Shirabu repeats and you listen, hazed eyes focused entirely on him. “Take a deep breath.”

You obey so well, mouth opening as you breathe deep, chest filling even when Shirabu slowly edges the equipment out of your tight asshole. The fingers inside your pussy don’t stop, though, and he brings his other hand, now free, to aid him in wrecking you. “Now surrender to it. Let it wash over you…”

“I…” You whine and tense, but then his two hands are gliding over every erogenous zone on your labia with acute expertise, and you let go, bones essentially melting under his ministrations; letting out a soft, obedient, won over, “Okay.”

“Good girl.” He tells you and rotates his fingers in and out, keeping you nice, wet and wide. You’re close. Shirabu can feel it in how you’re swelling around him. “You’re an amazing patient, Miss. Just do as I say and I’m telling you to cum.” That does it, as your head angles back, hands holding yourself and the table as you take a deep breath.

“Yes, doctor,” You whisper and moan, surrendering to the intense orgasm that pulses suddenly through you and quivers around his fingers. It’s beautiful to watch you come undone, legs trembling sharply as they’re held wide open, pussy fluttering in a wave of wetness that joins the puddle on the ground, mouth open as your tongue slides past it, eyes rolling inside your skull and probably seeing white.

Shirabu never feels tired of it, finally angling himself to bend over your frame, mouth looking for yours quickly as he breaks character.

“Keijiro,” you sigh, pleasure-drunk and Shirabu licks over your open lips, bites on your jaw, sucks the skin to leave his marks.

“Yes, love.” He answers against your pulse point and you lets out a satisfied sigh by his ear.

“That was amazing.”

“You think so?” Shirabu rolls his hips against your bare, soaked wet pussy, and his free cock rolls deliciously between the lubricated folds. “I’m just starting, though, Miss. I think you’ll need a more thorough exam, though. With special equipment too.” He brings his hand to angle his cock on your entrance, eyes locked on yours as you blink and smile, blissed out and pleading. Shirabu presses himself inside and you throw your head back in bliss, hands planting on his shoulders with sharp nails aiming for his skin. “Such a good patient I have. Open wide, love.”

You arch your head back to look up at him, mouth falling open on command, for Shirabu to do as he pleases. You, wide open on his table, for him to do as he pleases. He’s your husband after all and you’ve learned from a long time that what pleases Dr. Shirabu Kenjiro the most is picking you apart piece by piece, white bliss searing your every nerve-end as you fall and shatter for him, drowning under his thumb as he holds you down waves of pleasure, dragging you like the tide - strong and unyielding until it hurts to even breathe.

The mere thought of having more makes your lips fall open in a moan, “yes, Doctor.”

Because you love everything about that.

#shirabu kenjiro x reader #shirabu smut #haikyuu smut #shirabu kenjirou smut #shirabu kenjirou x reader #tw consensual noncon #tw medical kink #tw medical roleplay #tw doctor

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years ago

Text

Valentine’s Day Blues

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: In the midst of planning Valentine’s Day and his brothers party, Tom forgets your birthday

happy birthday to @bluelilly21 !! 🥳

Masterlist

The first time you met Tom, you were crashing his brothers birthday party. In your defense, it was Valentine’s Day, as well as your birthday, and you didn’t want to be alone. So when your best friend said she was going with her boyfriend to some party, you tagged along.

“Hey mate. Thanks for the party. We’re gonna be heading out soon.” Tuwaine shouted over the music of Harry and Sam’s birthday party.

“Thanks so much for coming.” Tom said as he pulled him into a hug. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“You too, mate. Wait one second.” Tuwaine turned around and found his girlfriend in the crowd. “I want you to meet my girlfriend”.

“Hi. I’m Yara.” A girl came from behind Tuwaine and put her hand out to shake Tom’s.

“And I’m bored.” You announced as you stumbled into Yara’s arms. “Can we go, please?”

“In a minute.” She laughed as she held you up. “I haven’t said goodbye to everyone yet.”

“But I did and if I stick around it’ll be awkward.” You whined in her ear, making Tom laugh. Yara gave Tom a look that told him this wasn’t her first time having to take care of you.

“I said my goodbyes already. I could stay with you until Yara is done.” Tom offered. You picked your head off of Yara’s shoulder and squinted at Tom, finally noticing that he was standing there.

“Yeah. Why don’t you stay with Tom?” Yara spoke in a motherly tone as she helped you stand up straight.

“But I don’t know him.” You whispered to her, just loud enough for Tom to hear. He understood you not wanting to be left alone with a stranger while drunk, so he didn’t take any offense to it.

“He’s Tuwaine’s best friend.” She assured you. “I wouldn’t leave you alone with someone I didn’t trust.”

“Okay.” You sighed before facing Tom. “But don’t try anything. I have a gun.”

“She doesn’t.” Yara whispered behind her hand. “Play nice.”

“Bite me.” You nipped at her, making her laugh.

“I will.” She smiled and pulled you into a hug. “Love you, girl.”

“Love you.” You mumbled before letting her go. She disappeared back into the crowd, leaving you alone with Tom. You were a little too drunk to remember your manners, so you just stared at him, unapologetically sizing him up.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Tom.” Tom reached out to shake your hand.

“Y/n.” You told him as you dapped him up. Tom laughed a little at your movement and checked you out.

“How come I haven’t seen you before?” He asked, taking a step closer so you could hear him over the music.

“Excuse me.” You put on a voice. “I am homeless. I am gay. I have AIDS. And I’m new in town.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” Tom frowned. “Do you need a place to sleep tonight?”

“Dude, I’m joking.” You laughed in shock. “Haven’t you heard of John Mulaney?”

“No.” Tom shook his head. “Is he your friend?”

“He’s a comedian.” You said like it was obvious. “Don’t they have comedy in England?”

“Our teeth are pretty funny looking.” Tom shrugged, making you smile.

“Hm.” You looked him up and down. “Cute and funny.”

“So how much of what you just told me was true?” Tom asked as he took a sip of his drink.

“Nothing except for the fact that I’m new in town.” You seemed to sober up a little. “But Yara and I go way back.”

“Same with me and Tuwaine.”

“I know. He’s been talking you up to me for a year now.” You chuckled as you pulled a water bottle out of your bag.

“Has he?” Tom raised an eyebrow. “What did he say?”

“That what you lack in height you make up for in charm.” You insulted him flirtatiously.

“What’s the verdict?” Tom stepped closer again. “Was he right?”

“You’d really let me sleep at your place if I was homeless?” You questioned him and you decided whether you liked him or not.

“I would.”

“Well, then he was right.” You batted your eyelashes and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “You’re definitely short.”

“Damn.” Tom shook his head as you pulled away laughing.

“I’m sorry.” You chuckled. “But you’re pretty charming as well.”

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.” Tom flirted.

“Guess what?” You went up on your tip toes to whisper in his ear. “It’s my birthday today.”

“Is it really?” He asked. “It’s my brothers birthday too.”

“Isn’t this their party?” You realized, and Tom nodded. “I hope you don’t mind I tagged along with Yara. I just broke up with my boyfriend and I didn’t want to be alone.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Tom told you. “I’m sorry about your breakup. Now that I know you’re single, you know what it really makes me want to do?”

“What’s that?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Get you a cab and make sure you get home safe.” Tom smiled softly as you as he gave you a comforting squeeze on your arm.

“That would be lovely.” You said in appreciation. You took Tom by the hand and began to walk with him towards the exit. “I’m glad I met you Tom.”

“I’m glad I met you too, darling.”

You didn’t kiss him that night, though you wanted to. It took about a month of knowing each other for you to finally kiss him. But once you did, you were inseparable.

It was a full year since the party, meaning yours and the twins birthday had come around again. It was also Valentine’s Day, your very first one with Tom. You woke up before him and walked into the kitchen, smiling at the dozen roses he had set on the table. Next to the roses was a box of chocolates at your spot at the kitchen table, but no birthday card. You furrowed your eyebrows a little but didn’t have time to think about it when your phone rang. You answered it and thanked the person for the birthday wishes as Tom entered the room.

“Sorry.” You smiled as you put your phone down. “I had a phone call.”

“Good morning. Happy Valentine’s days.” Tom’s voice was husky with sleep as he pulled you into a long kiss.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to you too.” You smiled against his lips before kissing him again.

“I have to call my brothers before I forget.” Tom kissed your forehead before pulling away. “Then I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Yeah.” You narrowed your eyes at him to see if he was joking. “You wouldn’t want to forget a birthday.”

Tom didn’t take the hint as your phone began to ring again.

“Your phone is ringing again?” He raised his eyebrows. “Someone’s popular.”

“I guess I am.” You mumbled, realizing that he had indeed forgotten. You took your phone call and tried to give Tom the benefit of the doubt. It was his brothers birthday, after all. Maybe he was just waiting to say it to them first. You came back to the kitchen after the call just as Tom was putting pancakes on the table.

“There you are.” He grinned and made grabby hands at you. “I want to spend every second together until the party. It kinda sucks our first Valentine’s Day together is also my brothers birthday. I’d rather spend the day with you.”

“It’s okay.” You shrugged sadly. “Birthdays are important.”

“I know.” He ironically agreed. “Maybe we can leave early and have some alone time.”

“Sure baby.” You faked a smile. “Let’s just eat, okay?”

You didn’t want to fight with him, especially on Valentine’s Day, so you made peace and sat down with him to eat breakfast. You were hurt that he had forgotten your birthday, but he at least remembered Valentine’s Day. You decided that that was better than nothing and tried to push it from your mind.

Tom had a few last minute errands to run before his brothers party, which you were slightly relieved about. You didn’t really want to spend the day with him after he forgot your birthday. He kissed you goodbye multiple times, harping on how sorry he was to leave you on Valentine’s Day. You sighed deeply once he left, feeling tears threaten your eyes in his absence. Every time he mentioned the party or Valentine’s Day, you were reminded that he had forgotten about you.

Tom came home once you had already started getting ready. You had your dress on and were talking a phone call as he got dressed.

“Are you almost ready to go, love?” Tom asked as he buttoned his shirt.

“One minute.” You mouthed as you pointed to your phone. The conversation finished up quickly and you hung up.

“Did someone leak your phone number or something?” Tom wondered. “It’s been going off all day.”

“Oh, you know.” You shrugged, not wanting to start something. “It’s a special occasion.”

“Valentine’s day is not that special.” He laughed as he came behind you to look in the mirror. “But you look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You smiled tightly as you put in your earrings. Tom went in to kiss you, but you moved so he’s only get your cheek. He clocked your strange behavior but shrugged it off as he grabbed his keys.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY BITCH!” Yara screamed from across the room when she saw you at the party. She ran to you and threw her arms around you, squeezing you tightly. She kissed both your cheeks before placing a tiara on your head.

“There. So everyone knows you’re the birthday girl.” She smiled proudly as she fixed your hair.

“Thank you.” You grinned as you squeezed her hands. “I appreciate you.”

“Well it’s my best friends birthday. I had to do something.” She shrugged playfully. “What did Tom get you?”

“Tom forgot.” You blurted, trying to keep a straight face. “He hasn’t said anything yet.”

“What?” Yara’s face fell. “He threw his brothers this party but didn’t even wish you a happy birthday?”

“There’s a lot going on today.” You tried to defend him. “He wished me a happy Valentine’s Day. And he got me roses.”

“It’s your birthday.” She didn’t let up. “It is his girlfriends birthday. He should know that.”

“It’s okay.” You shrugged it off, but she could tell you were upset.

“It’s not.” She didn’t let up. “Where is he now?”

“Last time I saw him, he was with Tuwaine.” You told her. “I didn’t really want to be around him right now.”

“Good.” Yara nodded as she fixed your hair. “Leave him be until he figures it out.”

“Is that the birthday girl?” A familiar voice came from behind you, making you smile.

“Happy birthday, you two.” You greeted Sam and Harry as you handed them separate birthday cards.

“Happy birthday to you too, princess.” Harry teased as he flicked your tiara. They pulled you into a group hug that lingered while Sam rubbed your back.

“This is for you.” Sam handed you a card.

“And this is from us.” Harry winked as he handed you a small black box.

“Thanks guys.” You smiled in appreciation. “I put your gifts in the back room. Should I get them?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Sam waved his hand. “Open it.”

You opened the box and found a thin black brackets with a straight metal pendant. The pendant had dots and lines going across it, making you look at the twins in confusion.

“It says “Holland” is Morse code. We have them too.” Harry explained as he showed you his matching bracelet.

“It’s to show that you’re part of our family now.” Sam added. “So people know you’re our sister.”

“Thats…” ,you stared at the bracelet for a moment, feeling sentimental tears coming to your eyes, “that’s really sweet, guys. Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

You pulled them into another group hug before letting them get back to their party.

“They remembered.” Yara gave you a pointed look.

“I should probably get back to the party.” You changed the subject, not wanting to sit in self pity. “Thank you for the tiara. You’re the best best friend I could ask for.”

“You’re welcome.” Yara told you as she hugged you tightly. “Happy birthday. I’m sorry your boyfriend is dumb.”

You gave her a look before heading back to the main area of the party. The second you saw Tom, you felt a disappointment in your stomach. He was laughing and having a good time while you were upset. You wished you didn’t care as much as you did, but you were hurt. He had forgotten your birthday and didn’t seem to care.

“Hey. There you are.” Tom smiled when he spotted you, already tipsy as he tried to hug you. “Are you enjoying the party?”

“Yeah.” You said flatly and moved away from him. “I’m gonna go get a drink.”

Tom pouted briefly at your odd behavior as Yara and a friend of yours approached him.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Your friend, KC, shouted over the music.

“She just left to get a drink.” Tom told her. “She’ll be back soon.”

“Good.” KC nodded. “I have to wish her happy birthday. I called her first thing this morning but I want to tell her in person.”

“It’s my brothers birthday, actually.” Tom corrected her. “They’re over by the pool table.”

“I know.” She laughed shortly. “But it’s Y/n’s birthday too.”

“She’s a Valentine’s baby.” Yara said sweetly while shooting daggers at Tom. “Isn’t that so cute?”

“What?” Tom jutted his head back. “It’s not her birthday. Her birthday is-“

“Today.” KC raised an eyebrow at Tom. “Did you not know?”

“I think he knew.” Yara stated with a hand on her hip. “He just forgot.”

“Oh no. I’m such an asshole.” Tom covered his mouth with his hand. “I can’t believe I forgot her birthday.”

“She couldn’t believe it either.” Yara shrugged. “You’re not gonna live this one down. This is exactly what happened last time.”

“Don’t say that.” KC said in a hushed tone, making Tom grow concerned.

“What do you mean?” Toms eyes darted between the two of them. “What happened last time?”

“Her ex did this last year and she was totally devastated.” KC told him. “He texted her “happy v day” and did nothing all day. They didn’t last a day after that.”

“Really? That’s why they broke up?” Tom began to panic. He knew about the ex, but you had never told him why you broke up.

“Yeah. She felt ignored.” Yara said unsympathetically towards Tom. “She was crying at my apartment until I brought her to your brothers party. That’s when you met, dummy.”

“Oh no.” Tom whined and looked around for you. “Do you think she’ll forgive me?”

“I’m not so sure.” KC shook her head.

“Why do you say that?” Tom panicked at her confidence.

“Because I’m pretty sure she just left.” KC said as she pointed behind Tom. Tom wiped around right as you walked out the door. Harry and Sam were standing near by, still waving to you as you left. Tom rushed over to them, already seeing the disappointment on their faces before he got there.

“Dude, what did you do?” Harry asked, a little annoyed with Tom. “You didn’t wish Y/n a happy birthday?”

“You literally met on her birthday last year.” Sam added. “How could you forget that?”

“I don’t know!” Tom groaned, angry with himself. “It completely slipped my mind. I got her chocolates and roses though.”

“For Valentine’s Day.” Harry interjected. “Not her birthday. You’ve been together for almost a year and you didn’t wish her happy birthday. That’s cold, mate.”

“What did she say to you guys?” Tom asked. “Was she upset?”

“She was crying.” Sam told him, making Tom hang his head in shame.

“I gotta go.” Tom decided. “I have to make it up to her.”

“You can try.” Harry shrugged. “I don’t really think she wants to talk to you.”

“And I don’t really blame her.” Sam mumbled under her breath. Tom let out another sigh before getting his things and leaving the party. He stopped by the store to get a few things before driving home to you.

Once Tom got home, he peered around a wall and found you sitting on the couch reading a book. He took a deep breath before putting on his most apologetic smile.

“Happy birthday.” Tom said weakly as he presented you with a cupcake. He sat down on the couch next to you but you didn’t budge.

“Who told you?” You asked without looking up. Tom sighed and set the cupcake on the coffee table so he could talk to you.

“Yara.” He admitted, and you nodded like you were expecting that. You continued to read your book, putting a nervous feeling in Toms stomach.

“I’m so sorry, princess.” He apologized as he put a hand on your knee. “I completely forgot.”

“I noticed.” You replied coldly, removing his hand.

“How can I make it up to you?” He asked sweetly, hoping you’d give a little.

“It’s fine.” You sighed. “There was a lot going on today. It’s Valentine’s Day and it’s your brothers birthday. And hey, at least you remembered those.”

“It’s not fine.” He frowned. “I can tell you’re upset. I’m so sorry.”

You finally put your book down and stared straight ahead, not knowing what you wanted to say yet.

“I am upset.” You said, like you were admitting it to yourself. “And I’m not sure why.”

“Because I forgot your birthday.” Tom reminded you quietly.

“But it’s only your first offense.” You thought out loud. “This is just strike one.”

“What?” Tom furrowed his eyebrows. “I’m not following, love.”

“I’m trying to say that you’ve been a really good boyfriend so far.” You finally looked at him. “You pay attention and communicate your feelings and go out of your way to make me happy. You have been a picture perfect boyfriend for the past year and all the sudden…”

“I fucked up.” Tom finished your sentence for you. You laughed softly and nodded.

“Yeah.” You agreed. “So I’m not sure how to react. On the one hand, you forgot my birthday. On the other hand, you were busy all day getting me roses and chocolates and throwing an amazing party for your brothers because that’s the kind of guy you are. Should I be mad that you’re so thoughtful that you took too much on?”

“Are you asking me?” He laughed a little.

“I am.” You softened up and smiled at him. “Because I don’t know what to do. I’m upset you forgot my birthday, but I also know why you forgot. So I’m at a bit of a crossroads right now.”

“Well, the party was no excuse to forget.” Tom didn’t let himself off the hook. “I should have remembered.”

“Yes, you should have.” You agreed. “But this has happened to me before. And the last time it happened, I didn’t get an apology and a cupcake.”

“Yara told me about your ex.” Tom said softly as he put his hand on your knee again. This time, you let him. “I’m not like him.”

“I know you’re not.” You smiled weakly. “You’ve spent the past year proving to me that you’re nothing like him. So yes, I’m upset. But I’m also ready to forgive you.”

“You are?” He asked hopefully, leaning closer to silently ask for a kiss.

“I am.” You accepted his kiss and he smiled in relief. “Just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t.” He promised. “Thank you for forgiving me. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You smiled at him. “Now give me that cupcake.”

Tag List 🏷

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sundaysundaes · 4 years ago

Text

Love Bites

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader, ft. Mark Lee | Vampire AU, Roommates AU | Smut, Fluff, Humor, Romance

Summary: Supernatural creatures don’t scare you, so when the cute neighbor who lives just across the hallway offers you a chance to move in for cheaper rent, you agree in a heartbeat--even when he consumes human blood on a daily basis.

Warnings: Smut, vampire sex, sex in front of a mirror, blood sucking, unprotected sex, slight choking. For the sake of the plot, Y/N is slightly intoxicated in this fic (drunk sex). Please don’t read this fic if this makes you feel uncomfortable. I also don’t approve nor allow taking advantage of your romantic partner while they are under the influence of alcohol.

Supernatural things don’t really scare you. Growing up in a family that tells urban legends and mystical myths as bedtime stories makes you feel somewhat reserved toward spooky stuff, to the point that you won’t even bat an eyelash during a jump scare at literally any scary movie out there. It’s not like you’ve seen any supernatural creatures with your own eyes but you believe in their existence, especially when you live in a town where freaky things happen on daily basis.

You’re not sure about werewolves and zombies, but vampires do roam the earth the second the moon replaces the sun. It’s not merely a rumor anymore, it’s a fact. But they keep their presence in secret, trying to act as humanly as possible so they won’t gather unnecessary attention. And since no one has found any dead bodies with bite marks or severe blood loss, people don’t really identify them as a threat. You perceive things in a similar way. As long as they don’t bother you, then you can co-exist in peace. That’s what you believe.

So when you visit your neighbor in the middle of the night, the cute guy—probably still in his early twenties—who lives just across the hallway, you figure you’ll see him smiling back, maybe even offer you a cup of coffee out of courtesy. Now, you don’t usually barge into someone else’s apartment even when the front door is unlocked, but seeing how the two of you are already on a first-name basis, always greet each other with a nod whenever your eyes make eye contact, you think to yourself, “Yeah, he wouldn’t mind if I come in, would he? What’s the worst thing that could happen? He’s too cute to be a serial killer anyway.” Which, you realize soon enough, was a poor, terrible logic on your part.

But you turn over his doorknob with a click and invite yourself in.

So clearly, you do not expect to see him sitting bare-chested on the couch with his girlfriend’s legs hooked around his waist. Clearly, you do not expect to see his hand yanking at the roots of her hair, forcing her to expose the column of her neck and making her call his name in the most wanton moan you’ve ever heard in your life—even if you’ve had a fair share of watching porn movies (for research purposes). And you most clearly do not expect to see him sinking his canines deep into her skin, not caring when trails of blood start to taint her bare shoulder and groaning in bliss as he relishes the taste of her blood.

So naturally, the only thing you can think of is:

Oh shit.

“Wait!” A hand finds its way to tangle around your wrist when you slip behind his front door to run back to your own. His icy cold skin makes you flinch in surprise but you keep your face still. As you turn around to see the owner, you’re greeted by the sight of him with his eyes turning as dark as the night. His brunette hair is made of curls and waves, seems unbelievably soft and silky with bangs almost covering his eyes. His lips and cheeks are smeared with fresh blood, possibly from trying to wipe his mouth in hurry with the back of his hand. His fangs are no longer shown and although he seems breathless, you can tell he’s not breathing from how still his chest is moving (but you’re too distracted with the sight of how toned it is). His black jeans are hanging dangerously low on his hips, unbuttoned but not yet unzipped, and it’s harder for you to not stare at his v-lines compared to the amount of blood that painted his lips.

Trying to act nonchalant, you simply ask, “Yes?”

“This isn’t what it looks like.”

“Oh, so you’re not a vampire drinking blood from your girlfriend’s neck?”

He gapes, eyes growing wide, before, “Okay, then it is what it looks like.”

You retract your hand, giving him a formal nod. “Cool.”

“Cool?”

“Yeah, as in, no problem. You have a kink. I understand.”

“No, I mean—” He pinches the bridge of his nose, somewhat dizzy from your reaction. “Why are you so calm about this?”

You frown. “I’m confused. Would you rather have me freak-out and tell our landlord that you’ve been spilling maiden’s blood on his carpet?”

“Well, no, but—” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Also, I’m a professional. I don’t leave stains.”

“Congratulations, I’m impressed.” You clap your hands twice, face blank. “Well anyway, I guess I owe you an apology. I didn’t mean to sneak into your apartment without permission and disturb your…” You scratch your cheek, attempting to find the right word. “Late night snacking time—”

“Oh, God.” He rubs his palm over his face but before he can protest any further, his lover is calling him from the inside of his room.

“Lee Donghyuck, come back to me. I haven’t come yet.”

You stare flatly at him, trying not to look as judgmental as possible but most likely failing terribly at it. “She sounds nice.”

He mirrors the look on your face. “Yeah well, she tastes nice.”

“Ugh, too much info there, buddy.”

“No, I mean, her blood, not—” You’re not sure whether vampires can blush but this one surely seems like one. “Why did you even come here again?”

“Oh, that’s right.” You remember. “This is totally cliche and I wish I could say a better excuse but I was making coffee and ran out of sugar. Do you have some I can borrow? And maybe some cream?”

“Seriously?” It’s supposed to be a sarcastic response, but when he sees you nodding your head, he adds, “Do I look like I drink coffee in my spare time?”

“You spend eternity without drinking coffee?” You gasp, laying a hand on your heart. “I feel sorry for you.”

“Leave. Please.”

***

On the next evening, you find yourself crossing the hallway and knocking on his apartment’s door again. Knowing how patience has never been one of your virtues, you try to turn his doorknob after your third knock. Like last night, it’s unlocked with a click so you invite yourself in, calling his name.

“Lee Donghyuck, are you here—”

“I really need to fix that stupid lock.”

The sound of his voice startles you when he suddenly walks into view, but not as much as the sight of him with a white towel hanging around his neck, his wet hair dripping water to his bare chest, and another towel wrapped around his waist.

He notices you’re staring so with a small smirk, he comments, “So you’re fine seeing me with human’s blood on my face but completely left in shocked when I’m half-naked?”

You put your best effort to act unfazed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You do know us vampires can tell when you’re lying, right? We can hear your heartbeat.”

“And yet, you didn’t hear me coming into your apartment last night.”

“I was…” He narrows his eyes. “Distracted.”

“You mean you were too horny to notice.”

“You—” He exhaled loudly, perhaps a habit he invented to make him seem more human. “Why are you here again today?”

“Can’t I greet my neighbor?”

He snorts loudly but walks away, throwing himself on the couch. “Seriously, why aren’t you surprised about this?”

“About you being a vampire? Or about your God awful taste in women?”

“Yeah?” He mocks back, making a face. “As if your boyfriend Mark Lee is any better.” When he sees a blush blooming on your face, he snickers. “Enlighten me, Sweetheart. How does it feel to have a lover that only last for one minute during—”

“Okay, I’ll take my words back. Everything. Can we move on, please?” You try to yank yourself back to your normal state, even when you feel downright ashamed. “So, this vampire thing. How long have you been a vampire?”

“Long enough.”

“How old were you when you first turned?”

“Young enough.”

“How often do you drink human blood?“

“Often enough.”

You glare at him, earning a sly grin in return. “You’re not taking me seriously, are you?”

He sends you the best serious expression he can manage. “Serious enough.”

“Right, okay, I’m leaving. Have fun being an asshole for eternity.”

But the second you turn around in your heels, Donghyuck is already on the other side of the room, closing his front door and leaning his back against it. “Now, now, you come in as you please, uninvited. You don’t think I’ll let you go just like that, right?”

You raise an eyebrow in question. “What do you want?”

“I think it’s something that we both want.” He steps closer, voice sounding smooth and alluring. “You know what I’m talking about, right?”

You gulp, suddenly becoming nervous. He’s an arms reach away, and then closer, and closer until you can feel his cold fingers tracing against your cheekbone, lifting your face so his eyes are locked with yours.

“I’m—” You can feel your breathing starts to stutter. “I’m not giving you my blood.”

“But it’s not blood that I want from you.” His eyes are half-lidded, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “I’ve been thinking about this so much lately.”

Your heart feels like a ticking bomb inside your chest. “A-about what?”

“About our rent. Do you want to move in together so we can split the rental fee?”

***

It’s both ridiculous and dumb, his offer to move in together for cheaper rent, so it’s even more ridiculous and dumb when you agree to it. There are several reasons that make sense, actually—at least, to you anyway: 1) your neighbor may be a vampire but he’s super hot and although that doesn’t make everything okay, it does make his offer sound incredibly tempting, 2) your landlord is going to raise the rent in the following two months, 3) your part-time job’s salary can only cover so much of your living cost and you have no savings whatsoever, 4) if you can ignore the fact that he brings random girls at night for midnight snacks, he becomes much, much hotter.

Of course, there are risks to think about as well. Sharing a place with another person can bring trouble, so you can only imagine how troublesome would it be to share your home with a vampire. What if he gets too thirsty and starts drinking from you instead?

You gulp. The thought of it is actually kind of… sexy.

Mark. You mentally slap yourself in the head. You have a boyfriend. Stop crushing on your damn neighbor.

Well, there is nothing serious going on with Mark actually. You guys were just lab partners in high school, went on a couple of dates, had a terribly awkward first kiss, had a heavy make-out session with him ejaculating under one minute when you dry-humped him on the couch of your living room.

So yeah, nothing serious.

“My apartment or yours?” You ask after a week has passed by, the second he opens his door for you. “Your apartment is bigger, but mine is cleaner.”

“Whatever you want, Sweetheart,” he smirks, leaning against the doorframe, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t mind as long we can split the fee.”

“Yeah, why is that? You’re running out of money?”

His smirk instantly falters. “Well, it’s not exactly easy for vampires to get a job these days.”

“You literally have superhuman skills.”

“Well, you guys have the technology!” He throws his hands in the air, absolutely disgusted with the word by the sight of it. “And the Internet! Sure, I can run pretty fast, I have super hearing, I can see in the dark but these fucking technologies can do literally everything I’m capable of—and everything I’m not capable of—with only a few clicks!”

“Do you need a hug?”

He’s still pouting but shrugs. “Can’t hurt.”

“There, there.” You give him a pat on his back as he leans down so you can reach his height. “I’ll teach you some basic stuff to get you updated.”

“Thanks.”

“You’ll get through this.” You pull away, squeezing his shoulders. “So, about moving in together. Shall we talk about house rules and stuff?”

“Sure, but before that,” he smiles, opening his door wider for you. “Come in. I don’t bite.”

It’s something about him using that poor choice of words with that teasing smirk on his face that makes your stomach feel uneasy but you nod and let yourself in. As he closes the door, he adds, “Unless it’s what you’re into.”

“Getting my blood drunk by a vampire?” You scoff, trying to steady your racing heart though he can probably tell already. “Why would it be something I’m into?”

“Well, my ladies surely enjoyed it,” he chuckles and you secretly think to yourself, yeah because you’re fucking hot, that’s why, but you keep yourself ignorant on the outside. “But if you’re ever curious,” he coos, eyes nearly glowing as he pushes his bangs back with one hand, “I’m down anytime you want.”

You shudder, but from disgust or excitement, you’re not sure. “Thanks, but no thanks. So, house rules?”

***

It turns out to be shockingly easy to share an apartment with an undead creature of the night. Your source of information regarding vampires are from the collection of your young adult supernatural novels, ranging from something serious like Interview with The Vampire, to something mediocre like The Vampire Diaries, and something absolutely ridiculous and downright outrageous like Twilight. So it’s not really surprising when your first assumption of vampires are dead people who look unusually pale but strikingly attractive, have constant frowns on their faces as they brood over literally everything that’s happening as if they’re constipated all the time (they’re not, since vampires don’t have that bodily function anymore) and kill people in their spare time by sucking their blood dry.

But Donghyuck isn’t like that at all, to the point you have to convince yourself that he’s a century-old vampire and not a brat going through puberty.

Because Donghyuck isn’t pale, his skin is tan as if he was kissed by the sun when he has been hiding from it his whole life. It’s smooth, unscarred, and almost golden under the fluorescent light of your apartment.

He’s not heartless either. He cried during watching Hachiko even when the dog owner was still alive and well, shouting, “Bad shit is going to happen. Bad shit is going to happen to the dog—look how cute that dog is—look just how fucking cute he is—he doesn’t deserve any pain—if this dog dies by the end of the movie, I will combust,” to the screen. So the thought of him killing someone by sucking their blood dry? Seems very unlikely.

And he’s not broody or angry all the time. He’s extremely playful and annoyingly mischievous. He keeps his stock of blood in empty bottles of red wine and places them inside the fridge with a handwritten note that says: “It’s really just wine, Sweetheart. I bought some as a housewarming gift. Come take a sip.” You did, once, out of curiosity, and from that day on you promised yourself that you’d never ever trust his words for as long as you live.

Being a monster, he should’ve been the cause of fear, but in reality, he gets scared from a lot of things—even the things that shouldn’t scare a baby. You will never forget the day when a loud crash came thundering from his room, two seconds before he came barging into yours, screaming with wide eyes, “THERE’S A COCKROACH FLYING IN MY ROOM!”

“And what did you do?”

“I THREW THE TV AT IT BUT THAT FUCKING THING STILL LIVES!”

“WHAT?! But that’s our TV!”

“IT WAS FLYING TO MY FACE AND I PANICKED—WHAT THE FUCK WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?!”

Even a butterfly that sneaks in from the window makes him jump on his feet. It was cute the first two times it happened, but seeing how he keeps on throwing random things—your phone, included—to keep the bugs away, you probably should start adding another house rule.

Speaking about rules, they’re pretty basic. It’s settled that you’ll both do your cleaning separately. No borrowing things without permission, no spending too much time in the bathroom because although he doesn’t need to go to the toilet, Donghyuck enjoys drawing himself a warm bubble bath for hours, as he takes a sip of his ‘red wine’. And you’re fine with him bringing girls over to your place as long as he does his midnight snacking in his own room. You were against it before but then you figure that you’re going to have Mark in your room from time-to-time (your date night is cheaper this way) so you really don’t have the right to forbid him.

But man, if only you could take back your words.

Because when Donghyuck said his ladies surely enjoyed it when he drank from them, you didn’t think that they would enjoy it this much. And you didn’t think that drinking blood from a human equals having sex with them all night long.

The sound of “Aah, yes fuck me just like that,” and “Bite me again, Lee Donghyuck, I want you to bite me as hard as you fuck me,” can be heard coming endlessly from his bedroom whenever he brings a girl—sometimes even two, for God’s sake—over. You have to plug your AirPods into your ears, blast the volume to the maximum until you can literally feel your ears going deaf while pulling a pillow over your head. And even then you still can hear them. Your apartment has excellent sound-proofed walls so your neighbors don’t really hear the loud screeches they’re making, but for you who sleeps in the room just across the living room? A living hell.

Fortunately, it doesn’t happen every day. It doesn’t happen every week, even, since he always keeps some stocks of blood in the fridge.

“Did you take this blood from those girls?” You grimaced one night, as you opened your refrigerator to slide in your pudding leftover and noticed three huge bottles of red wine completely filled up to the brim.

He laughed, waving a hand. “Of course not, stupid. How could I even do that in the first place? I bought some blood bags from the hospital, obviously.” He was sitting on the couch before but when he delivered his next line, he suddenly stood behind you, lips hovering dangerously close to your ear. “And just in case you’re wondering,” you could feel his smirk grazing your earlobe. “I only drink directly when I want to have sex.”

The heat was spreading almost immediately to your cheeks so you hid it by throwing a punch to his stomach, which he easily dodged. “Still,” you complained, “There’s blood in my fridge.”

“Hey, I never complain when you keep your celery juice in there.” He scrunched his nose in disgust. “I don’t eat or drink human foods, but who the fuck drinks celery juice?”

***

Donghyuck is also exceptionally talkative, you’ve learned along the way. It’s nice to have someone to fill the silence, moving from one random topic to another, never letting an awkward pause hang for too long. But he can also be exceptionally annoying when you have some papers to do and he’s bothering you because he’s bored out of his mind. He’ll start pestering you with questions—unimportant questions—like, “If you only have one eye, are you blinking or winking?” Or “Why is it that when you are sleeping it's called drool but when you are awake it's called spit?” And the stupidest of them all, “Why did Superman wear his briefs on the outside of his tights? This question intrigues me.”

And you’ll eventually start to lose it, throw a pillow to his face and yell, “GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”

But by the end of the day, it’s really fun to have him around. Not just because you can secretly enjoy the sight of him coming out of your shared bathroom with only a towel hanging low around his hips, but also because he’s a vampire and you can spend your time doing actual research about it.

“So,” you began one day after the sun has set and he crawled out of his room with the biggest bird's nest on his head. You had a romance novel on your lap, your fingers running through the pages. “Are you like an actual vampire or are you the romanticized, somewhat gay vampire they usually depict in books?”

“Well, I’ve never been with a man but I don’t really oppose the idea.” He took a seat beside you on the couch, laying his feet on the coffee table. You kind of just stare at him, not exactly judging his words, just… bewildered.

He noticed the look on your face. “When you’ve lived for a century, you gotta learn how to keep things interesting, even if that means having a dick in my mouth.”

“That’s…” You swallowed. “Not exactly something I want to imagine.”

“You should, though. Try picturing me with your boyfriend Mark for a sec. Don’t we look hot together?” You had to look away when he wiggled his eyebrows at you. You just had to.

“So, these vampire books you said you read,” he went back to the previous topic after cackling for a whole ten seconds at the flustered look on your face. “How do they depict us exactly?”

“You’ve never read one?”

“Have you ever read any books about humans written by vampires?”

“Fair point. Well, it said that vampires couldn’t see themselves in the mirror.”

“Myth,” he replied, leaning his head against the couch. “I can see myself in the mirror and I like seeing myself just as much as you do whenever I come out of the bathroom.”

You almost blurt out the cinnamon cookie you just ate. “Excuse me?!” You cough, eyes starting to get a little teary. “Who said I like looking at you?”

“You don’t?” The way his eyes twinkled made you a little bit weak. A smirk grew apparent on his face. “You sure about that?”

You cleared your throat, flipping another page of your book. “Next question,” you continued, ignoring the soft laugh he emitted. “Do garlic, holy water, and silver scare you?”

“They don’t scare me,” he clicked his tongue, vexed by the way you composed your words. “I just don’t like them.”

“Right, so that’s a yes. Do you have to be invited in to be able to enter someone’s home?”

He tightened his jaw, quietly murmured, “Yes.”

“Can you read someone’s thoughts?”

“No, but I can tell how they’re feeling through their heartbeat.” His eyes were boring into yours, lips curving upward. “Like you, for example. I can tell that whenever I’m around you, your heartbeat runs just a little bit faster.”

You glanced away, rubbing your nose. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Ah,” he showcased his perfect marbled teeth as he grinned knowingly. “Just like that. Your heartbeat is increasing again. Are you lying to me, milady?”

“You’re freaking annoying, you know that?”

“It’s part of my charm.”

“Speaking of that,” you immediately said, knowing it was the perfect chance to avert his attention to another topic. “Can you charm someone?”

“With these looks?” He gestured to his entire body. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” But when you started scowling at him, he added, “But if you’re talking about mind compulsion, yes, I am able to do that. I can erase and alter people’s memories, even controlling them only by making eye contact.”

“That sounds pretty convenient.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like doing it.” He shrugged, staring at the ceiling with droopy eyes. “Hypnotizing them to get what I want just doesn’t sit right with me. I want to feel a connection, you know?”

“So doing one night stands with vampire groupies is the perfect way to earn that connection, I suppose?”

He tilted his head, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “You really know how to attack someone’s pride, huh?”

“Part of my charm,” you mimic him with a nod. “Okay, next question. Can you die with a wooden stake piercing your heart?”

He rolled his eyes. “Everybody dies with a stake in—what is this, an interrogation?”

“Do churches—”

“Okay, Sweetheart.” He closed your book, smiling at you though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I think that’s enough. My turn.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, not really pleased with the way he just suddenly changed the direction of your conversation. “What do you want to know?” You indulged him anyway.

He tilted his head, propping his elbow on his thigh, fingers tapping against his cheek as he rested his chin on his palm. Gazing at you intensely, he asked, “Are you a virgin?”

It didn’t take even a split second for you to blush. “T-that’s—What kind of question is that—”

“Ah, so you are.” His smile grew a bit larger, but you weren’t sure whether he was amused, aroused, or just excited to mock you about it. “Is that why you’ve been staring at me a lot lately? Because you’re curious?”

“For the last time,” you emphasized, though your heart was hammering against your ribcages. “I wasn’t looking at you. I never—”

“You’re adorable when you lie,” he snickered, a lopsided smile painting his face. “Your heartbeat sounds like you just did a marathon. Are you okay?”

You threw your book at him, successfully wiping the smirk on his goddamn perfect face, and raced back to your own room.

“Ah, she’s really cute.” Was the last thing you heard him say before you slammed your bedroom door behind you.

***

For a vampire, Donghyuck’s presence is as bright as the sun, always managing to lift your mood whenever you’re too stressed about your college assignments or too exhausted from your part-time job. Of course, he’s also the cause of your stress more often than not, but whenever you get into a fight with him—usually because he’s so disorganized and you’re too obsessive to keep everything in order—it doesn’t last long and ends up with him making you the best dinner you’ve ever had to compensate, even when he’s not the one at fault.

Donghyuck doesn’t consume human food but he makes the best cuisine you’ve ever tasted in your life. And also the sight of him wearing your pink apron while humming to a Michael Jackson’s song with his bangs tied to the side using your hairclip is really, really something to behold—which is weird because that obviously doesn’t scream sexy in any way, or masculine even, but it makes your stomach do somersaults most delightfully.

“Dinner is served, Milady,” he says, laying down a plate of Spaghetti Aglio e Olio in front of you, making you gawk at the sight. “And it’s special because it contains a lot of garlic—seriously, like a lot. I had to put some gloves on and everything.”

“You’re an angel.” You nearly cry and it’s not an exaggeration. “I can’t believe you did this all for me.”

“Well, I haven’t really thanked you for covering my rent last month so…”

“It’s fine, you can pay me back later.” You take a hold of your fork, already wetting your lips in anticipation, and waste not a second longer before you dig in. When the cheese melts inside your mouth, you almost moan in joy. “Oh my God, this is so good. I love you.”

He chuckles, suddenly standing behind you, leaning forward so he’s next to your ear. “Yeah? How much?”

You raise your silver spoon in the air and he immediately leaps to the other side of the kitchen, startled and scared out of his mind. “Hey, that’s not nice! I thought we’ve talked about this!”

Rolling your eyes at him, you take another spoonful of it. “Man, you should really make a job out of this,” you comment. He only cooks whenever he feels sorry for you for going through a hard day—whether it was because of him or something else—but if that’s what it takes to have this magnificent dish entering your mouth, you don’t mind suffering more often.

“I really should, huh?” He takes a seat on the kitchen counter, his legs dangling a few inches in the air. “I’m really running low on money.”

“I thought vampires were supposed to be rich and like, noble.”

“You’re confusing us with Aristocrats.” He grieves. “Do you think I can get a night shift at a restaurant downtown?”

“Oh, I actually know a place. I’ll take you there tomorrow.”

“Like on a date?”

You almost drop your fork. “Why do you have to make everything weird?”

His cheeky grin is contagious but you’ve become a master of handling your expression. “I just like seeing you blush,” he confesses. “Have I told you how cute you are?”

“Today? Not yet,” you mutter as you munch on your food. “Yesterday? Approximately two hundred and thirty-five times.”

“Then I’ll try to break another record today.” He throws you a wink.

“Shut up and let me eat in peace, please.”

***

“Donghyuck-ah.”

“Yes, baby?”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop posting a goddamn selfie every ten minutes!” You almost throw your phone to his face but since it’ll be a waste, you decide to throw your shoe instead. “I didn’t teach you how to use Instagram for this!”

Donghyuck easily dodges every single thing you’re throwing at him. “Didn’t you tell me to promote my cooking skill? That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“How does this—” You show your phone’s screen to him, almost smacking him on the face with how fast and hard you’re doing it. You slide your thumb over his Instagram feeds, showing more than fifty different pictures of his close-up face and he just made that account two days ago. “—promote your cooking skill?!”

“But, look,” he guides you, clasping his hand to yours so you’re both holding your phone. He taps from one picture to another. “This is me holding a spatula. This is me boiling water and this is me pouring barbecue sauce—”

“Oh my God.” You almost yank every hair out of your head—or out of his head. “I follow more than four hundred people and all I can see is your damn selfies!”

“Correction, my damn cute selfies.” He pecks your cheek. “You’re welcome, babe.”

But all jokes aside, it actually works. His adorable selfies—no matter how bad you hate to admit it—are attracting more followers each day that by the time a week has passed by, he has gained more followers than you (and you’ve had your account for three years, shame on you).

And on the following two months, he gets his first endorsement deal.

“I can’t believe this,” you say, gaping as you stare over his shoulder to look at his phone’s screen, shamelessly reading his direct messages. He’s getting an offer to become a brand ambassador for this little bakery with a cover photo of a lady with chubby cheeks baking cupcakes. “I can’t believe there are people crazy enough to hire you.”

“Hey, privacy!” He immediately stands up from the couch, covering his screen with his palm. “I could’ve been sending nudes!”

“You’re sending nudes?”

“Well, not my nudes.” He rolls his eyes.

“How is that any better?!”

“Look, I’m busy. I got a gig.” He grins proudly. “I’m on my way to becoming a celebrity, babe. Do you want my autograph now before it’s too late? I could sign your bra if you want. I mean, I’m totally down if you want me to sign your tits, but if you ever think that could be awkward—”

You smack his head with a spatula.

***

It’s your first date night after nearly half a year of not contacting Mark due to him going overseas for student exchange, and you’re nervous for various reasons.

First, you haven’t told Mark you’ve been sharing a place with a guy.

Second, you certainly haven’t told him that this guy is a vampire.

Third, you absolutely in any way cannot tell him that you’ve been secretly crushing on this guy while your boyfriend was away studying.

And last but not least, you know that if anything happens tonight, whether it ends up with you fighting with Mark or finally losing your virginity to him, Donghyuck can hear every single thing.

So you barge into his room, hand laying on the front of his bedroom door as you push it open. “Donghyuck-ah.”

Like always, he’s laying idly on his bed, head almost dangling on the edge of it with his phone in his hands. “Yes, baby?”

You sigh, rubbing your temple. “How many times should I tell you? Don’t call me that.”

“You’re not my baby anymore?” He fakes a loud gasp. “I am shocked.”

“Mark is coming over tonight.”

His movements stop abruptly. “I didn’t realize you were still with him.”

“Of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be? He’s been nothing but sweet to me.”

His eyes lose the mischievous spark he usually displays in them. “And yet, you keep drooling over my body. Can’t say I’m not hurt.”

“I never—” You exhale loudly, throwing your head back. “I’m not going to have this argument again. He’s coming over tonight to have dinner—”

“But you’re a shitty cook.”

“By dinner, I mean take-outs,” you admit your defeat. “Anyway, I came here to ask you a favor.”

“Sweetheart,” he calls, turning over to his stomach so he can face you without having to see you upside down. “I know I said I wanted to make things interesting, but having a threesome with you and Mark? So suddenly like this? Don’t you think it’s gonna be a little awkward between us? I barely know the dude. You should at least tell me what kind of person he is, whether he likes action movies or romantic ones, whether he blames someone else when he farts—I need to know him before I have his dick in my mouth.”

Talking to him gives you headaches, you should’ve really come prepared. “Are you done?”

“Do you still want me to continue? Okay, well—”

“Shut up, please for the love of God, shut up.” You should take your leave before he starts yapping again. “Look, that super hearing thing you do? Can you turn it off just for one night?”

“Sure thing, click,” he says, snapping his fingers near his ear. “Done. Now I’m deaf.”

You flatly stare at him. “I’m serious.”

“Whaaaaat? I can’t heaaaaar youuuu.”

“Hyuck!”

He groans loudly, rolling his eyes. “Well, it’s not like my ears have on-and-off buttons I can just switch, okay? What do you want from me?”

He’s right, there’s nothing you can do. “Then, can you leave the apartment for the night?”

He opens his mouth wide, hand going to his chest. “You’re kicking me out from my own apartment? This is heresy!”

“Donghyuck-ah, please!” Great, now you’re stomping your feet like a child. “I just really need some privacy for tonight.”

“Oh, you’re gonna get laid, aren’t you?” He raves mockingly, but his eyes are somewhat bitter. “Seriously? With that guy? I think you could do so much better, Sweetheart.”

Vexed, you jeer back, “Yeah? And who do you have in mind? You?”

You’re not sure whether it’s your words or the way you say them because his eyes suddenly turn darker, almost glowering at you but it only happens for a second or two so you’re not sure if you even see that clearly.

“Well, it’s not my business, is it?” He casually chirps, smiling at you again though something still feels off. “Don’t worry, I won’t eavesdrop on you two. I have a lot of kinks but voyeurism isn’t one of those. You won’t even notice I’m here.”

“You…” Something feels really off with the way he’s acting. It’s like he’s visibly upset but trying to act nonchalant about it. “You’re sure?”

“You have my words.”

“Okay then.” Whatever it is, you figure you can deal with that later. “Well, I’m gonna take a shower.”

As you shut the door behind you, uneasiness starts to fill your chest.

***

Your date with Mark is going well. It’s going so well, even, that you end up lying on your bed, perfectly naked, lips swollen from his kisses, with him hovering on top of you, both breathless and speechless.

And unfortunately for you, also clueless.

He has a packet of condoms in his hand, and no matter how embarrassing it is for you, you already have your legs spread on the bed, waiting for him to… well, do whatever it is he’s supposed to do. Perhaps it’s okay for you to be clueless about sex because guys usually take the lead, right?

Wrong.

“Okay, wait, let me just—” Mark’s fingers are shaking due to anxiety. His poor, innocent mind cannot handle being so painfully turned-on and awkwardly embarrassed at the same time. Your boyfriend has always been awkward with literally everything, which kind of makes him adorable but it does not come as cute—not in the slightest—when he’s doing the exact opposite of what’s he’s supposed to do. Somewhere deep in his mind, he probably knows that he’s supposed to tear apart the packet sexily with his teeth, put the condom on within seconds, and thrust into you as painlessly as possible. But in reality, what’s currently happening is he tries to catch the condom that flew out in the air after he managed to tear the packet apart with his shaky fingers. He then progresses to try putting on the condom for approximately fifteen minutes while flinching several times when he accidentally slaps the elastic band against his cock.

The whole thing is a fucking disaster (no pun intended) and all the passion, desire, and arousal that you once felt swirling in your stomach vanish in an instant. And when you thought things couldn’t get any worse, it does, because being a virgin himself, Mark doesn’t really know where to, for the lack of better words, put it in.

“Mark?”

“Y-yeah?”

“That’s my asshole.”

So with a reassuring (fake) smile, you lay a hand on his chest and gently push him backward, trying not to wince in chagrin when you suggest, “Maybe we should stop and try again some other time?”

You two dress back into your clothes in silence and after you escort him to your front door, Mark tries to kiss you at the same time you’re leaning in for a friendly hug so it ends up with him knocking his teeth against your forehead.

When he’s gone, you close the front door with a sigh, pressing your spine against the wooden surface as you soothe the pain on your temple away with your fingertips. It doesn’t take long before Donghyuck peeks his head from behind his door. Noticing you’re alone, he steps into the living room, leaning against the wall just a couple of meters away from where you’re standing.

“So,” he begins, acting casual, “How was the date with—” He suddenly bursts out laughing, one hand holding his stomach as he nearly tumbles down to the floor, cackling like a mad man. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have eavesdropped but man, did he really put it in the wrong hole? Oh God, this shit is just beyond me, man.”

With your shoulders slumped forward, you walk back into your room, trying to gather back the pieces of dignity you have left.

***

“You know what I should do?” Donghyuck asks with a game controller in his hand. To stop him from making fun of you and your terrible incident with your boyfriend, you’ve borrowed a PlayStation from your cousin. Even though he claimed that he despised technology, Donghyuck is actually brilliant when he puts his mind to it. It doesn’t take more than two hours for him to master the game, already adapting to every button of the controller, even manages to land a few high scores in the last ten minutes. He used to prefer to live in the old school way, but that soon changed after your influence.

“Pray to God for forgiveness so He won’t send you to hell?” You offer, as you take a seat next to him on the carpeted floor, crossing your legs, eyes staring idly at the screen.

“Cute, but no.” He clicks some buttons aggressively, trying to reach yet another high score. “I should become a historian. I mean, I’ve seen things happened with my own eyes—the first world war, the second world war, the birth of Jesus.” He sneaks a glance, but seeing no reaction coming from you, he juts out his lower lip in disappointment. “It’s cruel that you don’t indulge me with my jokes these days.”

“Oh, so you want me to respond? I thought you just liked hearing yourself talk.”

“Heeeeeey,” he hisses, leering at you. “I know you’re hurt that your boyfriend tried to butt-fuck you but don’t throw this all on me.”

Oh my God. “Right, then let’s try this.” You have no choice but to please him this way before he destroys whatever is left of your pride. You do a quick search on your phone, throwing a random question from what you found in the article. “Who led our country in 1950?”

“Easy. The guy with the bald head. No, wait, is it the skinny one with the huge mole on his neck?”

“Name, Hyuck. I need a name.” You exhale in exasperation.

“Oh, I got it! The one with the annoying high-pitched voice!”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?”

“Well, how the hell am I supposed to remember shits that happened seventy years ago?”

You give him a look, eyes staring at him lifelessly. “You’re right, you should totally apply for the job. You’ll nail it.”

***

“I can’t believe this.”

“Saying that multiple times won’t really change anything, Sweetheart.”

“I can’t believe this,” you repeat, this time while standing up from the couch, slamming your fashion magazine down to the table. “I can’t believe our air conditioner broke when it’s nearly thirty degrees outside! Aren’t you hot?!”

“Am I hot—” He snorts, flipping a page of his novel. Yes, it is actually quite bizarre that he spends his spare time reading. “What kind of question is that? Of course, I’m hot. Haven’t you seen the number of girls I brought into this place?”

“Ugh, God!” You plop back into your seat, throwing your head back in vexation. “What are you even reading?”

“That vampire book you talked about yesterday.”

“Which one?”

“The one that’s interesting.”

“Oh, Interview with The Vampire?”

“No.” The way he rolls his eyes as if he’s disgusted with your guess is beyond you. “Twilight.”

“Oh my God, stay away from me.”

“What—this is actually good!”

“These vampires sparkle under the sun—aren’t you, at the very least, offended? Because I’m livid and I’m human.”

“That’s what makes it interesting, actually,” he retorts, eyes moving back-and-forth as he reads through a passage. “They’re so different than us in real life, so it’s like seeing through a new perspective. I’m Team Jacob, by the way.”

“Good Lord.” You palm the side of your face. “You’re more than a hundred years-old but you have the taste of a teenage girl going through puberty. I’m ashamed of knowing you.”

“You’re just cranky because of the weather.”

“I’m literally dying.” You can feel sweat drenching your back, all the way to your shirt and you just took a shower twenty minutes ago. “You’re lucky you’re immune to temperature changes.”

“Then wanna sit on my lap?”

Your ears must be playing tricks on you. “Excuse me?”

Donghyuck sighs, closing his book and throws it away to the side. Turning to you, he repeats slowly, dragging out every syllable. “Do. you. want. to. sit. on. my. lap?”

You send him a blank stare, annoyed. “I heard you, asshole. I’m not an idiot. I’m just shocked at your offer. You’re really going all out in harassing me these days, aren’t you?”

“What—” He throws his hands in the air, exasperated. “I’m a vampire, remember? I have cold skin. Here,” he takes one of your hands, sliding it down his shirt as if it’s nothing, and presses it against his stomach. “Can you feel it?”

All the blood rushes to your face, making you feel lightheaded but also conscious of how his skin feels under your palm. It is cold, though not as cold as he’d made a big deal out of it. It’s like the room temperature during the spring season, at most. But compared to how sizzling it is right now, his skin is nice to the touch, relaxing even.

But all that thought just goes straight out of the window when he shifts on his seat and you can feel his abs muscles contracting.

“Whoa,” he stops, looking at you. “Are you okay? Your heartbeat is insane.”

You smack him on the head and try to suffocate him with your cushion. It doesn’t work since he doesn’t breathe, but at least it can stop him from seeing how red your face is turning.

But when another day passes by and your landlord is still taking his sweet time trying to find a cheap handyman to repair your AC, you decide to take on his offer. You know it’s weird for roommates to cuddle but, as you try to reason within yourself, you will be sitting on the-sexiest-man-you’ve-ever-witnessed-with-your-eyes’ lap, your back pressing against his (hopefully) bare chest, and snuggle close until your body heat is no longer screaming at you in agony. You don’t really see any problem with this. After all, you have been imagining how it would feel to sit on his lap every time he does that manspreading thing on your couch.

So really, what’s there to lose?

“Okay,” you begin, standing in front of him in an already awkward position. “So, how can we do this without being weird about it?”

Donghyuck tilts his face up, leaning his back against the couch, phone in his hand. “Do what?”

“Do…” You fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “You know, what you offered yesterday.”

“Hmm?” He raises his eyebrow in question, but the way one side of his lips is curving upward betrays his act. “I forgot. What exactly did I offer to do?”

“You’re seriously going to make me say this out loud?”

“Baby, I’m clueless.” His smirk grows wider, his voice filled with allure. “Please. Enlighten me.”

He’s toying with you, that’s for sure. And no matter how much you want to feel those arms around you, there’s no way you’re gonna let him degrade you like this. “Fine, then forget it,” you sulk, turning around on your heels with your scarlet cheeks puffed out but Donghyuck laughs in the most innocent way when he’s clearly nothing like that in reality. Calling your name in a sing-song voice, he circles his fingers around your wrist and tugs you back until you tumble down to his lap.

“You’re never honest,” he says, his velvety voice suddenly only a whisper away. His arms are tied securely around your waist, pulling you close until you can do nothing but lay your back against his chest. “But you’re cute so I forgive you.”

You can’t form a word, too busy trying to compose yourself. You can’t hear his heartbeat—since he’s the creature of the undead, obviously—but you assume with the proximity you’re being, you would’ve definitely heard it if he had one.

You didn’t notice it before but now that you’re sitting on his lap, your palm pressed against his thigh for stability you realize that he’s wearing black ripped jeans with holes that are oh so terribly distracting. If you dare to move your finger, you’ll be able to trace the smooth skin at the inner part of his thigh.

You gulp hard.

You can hear him snickering behind you. “Thinking about something dirty?”

You almost swallowed your own tongue. “What—no!” Flapping your hands in panic, you almost fall from his lap but his fast reflex won’t let you, as he embraces you tighter, making you fall back to his chest with a small oof.

“Relax, I’m just messing with you,” he chuckles lowly, his lips grazing against your earlobe. “This is nice. We should do this more often. You fit perfectly in my arms.” He says his line with sincerity with no trace of humor or teasing in it, which effectively make you curl your toes in bashfulness.

“You’re gonna have a heart attack if you keep your heart rate going like that, Sweetheart,” he titters.

“Yeah, well,” you try to push him away by pushing your palm against his cheek. “Unlike you, I don’t really spend my time snuggling with the opposite sex, so of course I’m nervous.”

“You’re sure it’s not because of me?”

“Absolutely. In fact, I’d most likely have a bigger reaction if Mark was the one holding me instead.”

The way he suddenly goes stiff intrigues you, but you don’t dwell on it. “Is that so?” He simply retorts back, tone suddenly becoming cold and it makes you feel uneasy.

“So, uhh…” Your breathing tatters when he becomes mute, only the sound of the ticking clock on the wall can be heard. “Wanna watch a movie?”

He only hums, placing his chin on top of your head. Since he’s always so talkative, it gets really tense when he’s quiet. “Did I offend you or something?” You question.

“I don’t know, did you?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I knew.”

“Then let’s just leave it at that.” Seeing how you keep fumbling with the remote in your hand, he snatches it away and proceeds to switch the channels. “We’re watching Twilight.”

“Nooooooo, not again!”

But his arm, as he raises it high in the air, is longer than yours so you can’t steal back the remote no matter how hard you try. And as you jump up and down, shifting back and forth on his lap, Donghyuck warns, “I don’t know if you’re doing this on purpose, but if you keep doing that, I’m gonna get a hard-on.”

You immediately stay still, hands tucked neatly on your lap, chest thundering. “You—Why—” You shake your head, flushed. “How can you say things like that?”

“Things like what?”

“Sexual things like that.” The more you reveal your thoughts, the harder you blush. “Don’t you have any shame?”

“What, I can’t be honest?” He snorts. “I didn’t mean to harass you or anything. Just letting you know in advance. It’s completely a guy thing.”

“No, it’s not just that. You always flirt with me—calling me baby, telling me how I look cute all the time when you don’t even mean it—“

You’re interrupted with a loud sigh accompanied by an impatient groan. “Turn around, look at me,” he orders and his tone is irrefutable. When you turn slightly, making eye contact, Donghyuck has his eyebrows furrowed, almost glaring at you. “I know you’re gullible, and I know you’re dense when it comes to things like this but I swear to God, if you don’t start taking a hint, I’m going to have to push you against the wall and kiss you to prove my point.”

You’re dizzy and nauseous, and your stomach is flipping like crazy and you’re conflicted between believing him or laughing at him because although he looks dead serious right now, you can’t help but wonder what if, after you give in to your feelings, he sends you that signature cheeky grin of his to reveal he’s just joking all along? You’re not even brave enough to imagine, even when the vivid image of him pushing you against the wall, his knee slipping between your legs while he brings your wrists over your head, holding them still with one hand is enough to keep you awake for hours.

So you decide to take the easy path. “Okay.”

He blinks. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You shrug, acting casual. It’s really a miracle that you don’t stutter when you deliver the next line. “You told me to take a hint, that’s what I’m doing.”

He raises one of his eyebrows, confused. “Just like that? You’re not gonna say anything more? Or do anything about it?”

“Nope.”

Slowly, there’s a shift in his expression. He shakes his head, tongue protruding against the inside of his cheek both irked and amused. “You’re really something.”

Surprisingly enough, he leaves it at that. Though it’s somehow uncomfortable, you follow his lead and just lock your eyes to your tv screen as he chooses his movie.

You have no interest in watching Twilight—absolutely nothing, zilch, zip, nada!—so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when your eyelids start to become heavy in the first thirteen minutes of the show. You would’ve fallen asleep way sooner though, if you weren’t too distracted with the way he laid his hand on your thigh, sometimes unconsciously rubbing or squeezing it with his palm when he got a little bit bored with the scene, making your breath hitched in your throat.

The room’s temperature is still hot even when it’s in the middle of the night, successfully making your bangs stick to your temple but Donghyuck is quietly humming something to himself. Soft, melodious sound is resonating from his chest directly to your ear and you begin to drift away, floating into your dreamland.

***

“Hey, wake up. It’s almost morning.”

Your bleary eyes are greeted with the dim light of the room. The TV in front of you has already been switched off so the only thing that can be heard in your apartment is the buzzing sound coming from your fridge and the faint ticking clock.

“What time is it?” You rub your eyes, not aware that you’re still sitting on his lap, with your spine leaning against his chest. It’s until you feel his arms loosening around your waist that you begin to think, oh fuck, what have I done?

You immediately jump off his lap, tripping over your feet but manage to hold your balance by placing a hand on the coffee table. “Why didn’t you wake me?” You screech, face aflame. “You kept holding me in that position all night?”

“Yeah.” He stretches his arms above his head, cracking his neck. “I wanted to wait until you wake up by yourself, but you know, the sun is about to rise.”

You’re still pretty much flabbergasted by the whole thing. “You really should’ve woken me up.”

“Well, you seemed like you were having the best sleep you’ve ever had.” He stares at you with a twinkle in his eyes. “Was it that good being in my arms?”

You’re about to explode. “Okay, wow, look what time it is.” You try to look at your wrist and mentally slap yourself harder when you realize you’re not wearing a goddamn watch. “A-anyway, you really should go back to your room before it’s too late.”

He shakes his head, chuckling at your stupid antics as he stands up from the couch. He ruffles your hair once, making a mess out of your strands before he heads back to his room. As he slides open his door, he spares you a glance over his shoulder. “Hey.”

“What?”

“You kept calling my name in your sleep. What were you dreaming about?”

Whether it’s true or he’s just flirting with you to get your reaction, you don’t want to know. “Just go to your room!”

***

A few moments after the sun sinks below the horizon, Donghyuck comes out from his room with bleary eyes and his shoulders slumped forward.

“Good morning, Princess,” you joke, your hands busy mixing coffee powder, sugar, and milk to make your own version of Dalgona coffee. Donghyuck scratches the back of his head, his eyes are barely open as he heads to the kitchen, not even sparing you a glance. When he opens the fridge, he groans loudly, noticing that he forgot to restock his red wine. He slams the door with a loud huff, drags his body to the dining table, and sits down with his cheek pressed against the table. Seeing how you’re not paying him any attention, he groans again, louder and whinier this time.

“Okay, what?” You ask, leaning your back against the counter, a cup of coffee in your hand.

“I’m thirsty,” he grumbles, jutting out his lower lip.

“Then drink.”

“I don’t have any money to buy even a bag of blood. Why do they have to make it so fucking expensive?” He pouts. “I mean, I can always steal one but I’m scared of being caught.”

“Scared of being caught? You, with your superhuman speed and strength?”

“Well, they have those security cameras installed all over the place! I don’t want to get arrested or worse, go viral!” You resist the temptation to roll your eyes at his nonsense. “These fucking technologies, man, I swear to God, they’ll be the death of me someday.”

“Then just go outside. Our town is filled with walking blood bags.”

He groans again, now pressing his forehead against the table. “Man, the effort I have to make just to survive. I’m so done with drinking blood from slutty girls. They’re bitter.” He sticks out his tongue at the memory.

“Yeah, why is that? Why do you only drink from them?”

“Because they’re the only ones who’ll agree in a heartbeat.” His voice is muffled as his lips are brushing against the surface. “Also the sex isn’t too bad if you can ignore how annoyingly loud they are.”

“Trust me, I’ve tried.” You grimace at the flashback. It really has been a while since he brought one of them back to his room and you were ecstatic about it, knowing you were the only girl he had been giving his attention to. “Why don’t you just compel someone to give their blood? You can erase their memories too after you’re done.”

“I’ve told you, I don’t like doing that. It makes me feel like a monster.”

It’s cute, you suppose, the way he tries his best to defy his nature. “Then…” You tap your fingers against the mug, somehow feeling uneasy. “Why don’t you try being in a relationship with someone? I’m sure they’ll be willing to give you their blood if they like you that way.”

“Yeah? With who?”

“I don’t know, like…” Your cheeks grow hot, bringing your face down to hide your eyes behind your bangs. “Maybe just someone you like.”

“Are you volunteering?”

The way he suddenly has you backed against the counter, trapping you inside his arms, and whispers seductively with his lips almost grazing your own make you jump on your feet, your cup slipping off your fingers, crashing to pieces when it hits the marbled floor.

“Careful!” Donghyuck holds you by the waist, stopping you just a split second away from stepping on the broken glasses. You realize your hands are fisting against the back of his shirt, embracing him for support without knowing. You pull away immediately, clearing your throat.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you,” he says, letting you go. “I mean I did, but not like this.”

You sigh. “It’s okay, just step away. I need to clean this up.” He tries to help but you won’t let him, because having him in such proximity is going to blind your senses, unable to function properly. Even just thinking about the way his strong arm fits the curve of your waist already makes you lose focus that you end up cutting your finger with a shard of glass.

He catches the little surprised yelp that escapes your lips and immediately bends down to check on you. “See, this is why I told you to let me clean up instead,” he complains, carrying you to the sink and drenches your finger with running water. “Let me see.” With a hold around your wrist, you can barely do anything but to let him examine your cut thoroughly. “Well, it’s not deep but it’s… still…”

Noticing how he trails off, you look up to check on his face seeing how his eyes are now glowing a bit brighter, his lips parted as if in awe from the way droplets of blood seep from your fingertip, trickling all the way down to your palm.

“Hyuck…?”

His eyes are drifting back and forth from your face to your cut and you know where this is going but when he brings your palm closer to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick the blood off your skin, you nearly collapse to the floor.

“Hyuck—” You hiss, cheeks reddening as you try to retract your hand but his hold is firm on your wrist. He licks his way up before he brings your fingertip inside his mouth. Donghyuck has his eyes closed, a moan almost falls from his lip when the coppery taste taints his tongue. He sucks on the wound, wanting to taste more, to rip your skin apart with his teeth and—

“Hyuck!”

He blinks awake, shocked when he sees your face painted with fear. His fangs are drawn out but he immediately retracts them back before you get a detailed look, his face flushed as he takes a step back.

“S-sorry—” He looks away, rubbing his nape with shaky fingers. “I didn’t mean—shit I really have to go—I have to drink—” and when you blink your eyes, he’s vanished from your sight.

With your heart thundering inside your ribcages, you lean back against the kitchen counter again, your legs trembling under you.

That was close. So fucking close.

There’s a fear growing inside you but it’s not from the memory of him with his fangs extended like the true monster that he was. You’re not scared of him, you’re scared of yourself because you know you want him, you want him in any way possible. You want him to belong to you, to be with you, to be desperate for your touch, your blood, your presence, your everything, just as much as you are about him.

You bury your face in your palms. I am so fucked.

***

Hours turn into days and days turn into months, and before you know it, it has been a year since he moved into your apartment. The friendship that blooms between you feels nice and you want to keep it that way but it’s getting hard when he keeps on bringing random girls in skimpy dresses back to his room. You used to be furious by how loud they were being, but now you’re pretty much angry just simply by imagining him being with someone else. And it doesn’t even have to be sexual—just picturing him bonding with another person, even when it’s not as strong as what you two have, manages to irk you so much.

The thoughts of him keep revolving in your head no matter how hard you try to push them away. It even puts your relationship with Mark in jeopardy, as you can barely pay him any attention. It doesn’t surprise you at all when he decides to break things off, saying something cliche like, “I think we’re better off as friends,” and “It’s not you, it’s me,” which in normal circumstances will piss the hell out of you but when that happens, you simply just reply, “You’re right. Let’s be friends.” And there are no hard feelings—no feelings at all, even, which is weird considering you were only a month away from having your first anniversary with him.

Now that Mark is out of the picture, you can finally bring all of your attention back to Donghyuck. But the more you think about it, the more you’re not sure about the whole thing. He’s a vampire, isn’t he? What future do you expect to have with him? Let’s say you date him and things go well with your relationship, and then what? He’s going to stay young with that cute, boyish look on his face and you’re gonna be all wrinkled and gross, how are you ever going to be able to stand that? What if he wants someone prettier than you? What if he gets bored?

Or maybe it’s just lust you’re feeling. You don’t love him, you’re just physically attracted to him. That’s right. Strictly physical.

And yet, as you see him dressed up in a white buttoned-up shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, running a hand through his hair and pushing back his bangs to showcase his temple, you thought: fuck.

And when he smiles at you, as he places a plate filled with the exact dish he knows you love down to the dining table, saying, “I went ahead and did some research about you. I was about to buy you some presents but I thought it would feel more personal if I cooked something for you so,” and stopping to gaze at you with tender eyes before he adds, “Happy birthday, Sweetheart.” You thought: Jesus fucking Christ, just marry me already.

Donghyuck goes all the way with everything, from placing scented candles on the table, playing soft music in the background, even escorting you to your seat, pulling your chair back for you, and placing down a napkin on your lap. It’s too much for your poor brain to comprehend, and your chest is suffocating from all the feelings swirling behind it and Donghyuck looks so beautiful—almost goddamn ethereal even—in that shirt, in that hairstyle, in the dim light of the room.

“You’re not hungry?” He asks when a few seconds have passed by and you haven’t munched at your food like a caveman—because that’s what you usually do.

“I’m—you—” You splutter, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves before you try again. “You look nice.”

You can already tell that he’s about to say something along the line of “But baby, I always look nice.” So when he just softly smiles back and thanks you about it, telling how you look just as nice when you know you look like a storm just hit you, you’re pretty much lost for words.

“You seem exhausted,” he comments, frowning in concern. “Hard day at work?”

You can’t trust yourself that you won’t start rambling nonsense again while answering his question so you decide to just reply to him with a timid nod.

“Why are you so nervous?” He laughs, eyes turning crescents. “Your heartbeat is going through the roof again.”

You loathe yourself for being so transparent. “I’m nervous because you’re suddenly being so nice. I can’t help but think you have a hidden agenda or something.” That’s a lie. A complete lie.

And you’re sure he knows it. “And what if I do?” He asks, raising an eyebrow seductively. “What kind of a hidden agenda do you think I have for you?”

Why is it so fucking hot in here?! “I don’t know…” You start fiddling with the fingers you have on your lap. “Drinking my blood, maybe?”

His expression is a mystery to you, even when his smirk seems familiar. “And would you be okay if that’s true?”

You can’t answer but fortunately for you, Donghyuck lets out a chuckle, telling you he was making a lame joke. You force yourself to laugh but it sounds like a wheeze so you stop before it gets even more humiliating.

Donghyuck walks to your side with a bottle of wine in his hands, sliding glass to your side as he says, “Wine, milady? It’s not blood, I swear.” And you believe him because this time, the liquid seems more ruby than crimson.

“You really need to relax,” he comments as he leans his back against the edge of the table, raising the glass of his usual red wine in the air before he clanks it gently against yours. “To the cutest, sweetest roommate in the world.”

You immediately take a sip to hide the blush that creeps up your face, flinching when the burning, mildly bitter flavor hits your tongue. You’ve never drunk any alcohol in your life and although this first experience feels rather unpleasant, you keep chugging more of it down your system.

“Does it taste good?” He asks, secretly smiling to himself as he witnesses how fast you’re drinking the whole glass down. You shake your head in response, which earns another laugh from him.

You’re not sure whether it’s because it’s your first time drinking alcohol or you just have a low tolerance when it comes to it, but you can feel yourself getting both lightheaded and drowsy. Donghyuck who takes notice of that, move you to the couch so you can rest more comfortably. “I better take this away,” he says, circling his lean fingers around your wine glass but you push him away.

“No,” you say, eyes a little bit unfocused. “I’m fine. Pour me some more.”

“Don’t you think it’s enough?”

“Just another glass, Hyuck, don’t be a bitch about it.”

He’s taken aback but collects his composure within seconds. “All right, just don’t blame me for it,” he states as he pours you another one.

“I have a question for you, Lee Donghyuck,” you coo as he takes a seat on the coffee table, facing you. “Does everyone’s blood taste the same to you?”

“It differs, actually,” he answers, taking a sip of his own drink. “But only faintly. I’m not that picky about it.”

“And how does it feel having your blood sucked by a vampire?”

“You’re asking the wrong guy.” He sways his head from side-to-side in amusement. “I mean, of course, I can have my blood drunk by another vampire but I’m not that kinky. I know some vampires who are into that kind of shit though.”

“Well, by the sound of your girls screaming like they were giving birth, it’s either very painful or very…” The sight of him staring at you intently, taking in your features, nearly throws you off tracks. “Pleasurable.”

There’s an awkward pause and silence hangs around to fill the space before Donghyuck speaks again. “How come you’re asking me these questions?”

“Because that’s all I’ve been thinking about,” you confess, not sure why, but you’re feeling very brave at the moment. “And it’s not just about you drinking my blood, but more about you entirely. You know what I mean?”

Donghyuck places his glass down on the table, leaning towards you. “Not sure, but I’m all ears.”

“I… just…” It’s getting harder to speak when he’s so close, you can start locating every tiny mole he has on his face and his neck. The small one near his Adam’s apple is the one that distracts you the most. “I just think we’re compatible with each other, you know? And I’ve never enjoyed someone’s company this much before. You’re funny, you’re smart, and you’re both endearing and freaking annoying at the same time—how is that possible?”

But Donghyuck isn’t laughing. His eyes are deep and dark, raking over your profiles with so much intensity but when he swats the bangs out of your eyes, his touch is tender. “What else? Tell me more.”

You lean closer to his touch like how a kitten would, making him gulp slightly at the sight. “I get so vexed whenever you spend your time with anyone else. I know I have no right to be jealous since we’re just friends but I can’t help it.” You sigh, rubbing the side of your face with your palm. “It’s so fucking tiring to think about you this much when I can’t have you.”

You’re too lost in your own thoughts that when Donghyuck reaches out a hand to touch your face, you jump in surprise, spilling wine all over your blouse. “Shit, this is my favorite shirt,” you whine, sliding your glass down to the table. “Can you get me some tissues?”

But what he does is lifting your body with both of his arms and carry you to the bathroom. You cling onto him with a yelp, trying to keep yourself away from falling even though you’re sure he’s perfectly able to hold your weight.

Donghyuck places you down on the bathroom counter, your fingers dangling at the edge of your sink. Sitting up straight, you begin to feel conscious of your surroundings. “What are you doing?”

“It’s your favorite shirt, right? We need to wash the stain before it sticks,” He explains, his fingers going to your collar. You nearly stop breathing when he asks for permission to undress you, “May I?”

You swallow hard before you weakly nod.

He takes time unbuttoning your shirt one by one when you know he can rip it apart easily with one finger. He’s so gentle, his touches are paper-thin but whenever his icy fingertips make slight contact with your skin, it sends electricity to every inch of your body.

When he manages to untangle the clothing from your body, you’re only left in your bra and your black satin lace cami top. You can tell he tries to be polite by not staring at what you’re wearing, and instead immediately drags your blouse to the sink, drenching it with water.

“Where did you place the detergent again?” He asks, reaching up over your head to check on the top cabinet and he’s so fucking close that you can see the movement of his Adam’s apple as he speaks. And it’s really, really tempting to just lean over and—

Donghyuck flinches when he feels you sinking your face in the crook of his neck, mapping your lips on his skin, breathing in his scent. You don’t know how vampires usually smell like but Donghyuck reminds you of summer even when you’re not sure how summer smells like. It’s funny how you’re not making sense, even in your own thoughts.

Pushing you away by the shoulders, Donghyuck’s eyes gleam in the way you’ve never seen before. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I…” You can’t form a word—you can’t even form a thought as you’re too busy staring at his lips, how smooth they look, how thrilling they must feel against your own. And maybe he’s thinking the same thing about yours because when you lean in for a taste, he meets you halfway.

It’s warm and it doesn’t make any sense, because the rest of his body is icy cold but as you press your mouth against his, all you can think about is how his lips are warm and soft, so fucking soft and delightful and maybe it’s just your mind playing tricks on you but you don’t care.

You breathe heavily through your nose, yanking at the collar of his shirt so he’s closer to you than he’s ever been, and you tilt your head slightly, angling your face so you can meld your lips deeper against his. He instinctively reacts by holding the side of your face, fingers slipping between your strands, tips curling around your nape.

He kisses better than any man you’ve ever been with and you’re sure he’s better than any man you’ll ever date in the future because Donghyuck knows what he’s doing, even when he’s caught by surprise.

Sliding your hand up to his chest, you can tell how his skin stands in contrast to the warmth of his mouth and it makes you shiver, your breathing rags, and you moan into his mouth, tracing your tongue along the puncture of his fang that’s still retracted, almost as normal as a human’s but something inside you tells you it’s not going to stay that long if you continue doing this.

So anticipation builds inside you because there’s absolutely no way you’re going to stop what you’re doing.

But Donghyuck is surprisingly more chivalrous than he looks. He pulls away, giving you a few inches of space to break the attraction. It’s not enough, your mind is still heavily clouded by the thoughts of him, so you reach up to kiss him again, catching his lower lip between yours.

“No, wait,” he says, voice sounding breathy though he doesn’t breathe. He circles his fingers around your wrists, holding them down against the counter so you won’t be able to move.

“Let me just kiss you,” you plead, eyes dazed and desperate. “Please.”

His chuckles are soft, almost inaudible. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not, I swear.” It’s horribly embarrassing how you’re itching for his touch as if losing physical contact with him causes you madness. “Hold up your fingers and ask me to count them. I’ll guess it right, trust me, so can you just—” You try to move your hand to pull him close but his grip around your wrist is stronger than your strength. “Hyuck—”

“Look, I want this just as much as you do—” He hisses when you’re using your knee this time, sliding it between his legs, giving him the friction that he needs. “Fuck. I probably want this more than you do, but—” He loses control for a split second, re-attaching his mouth to yours with so much fervor, tongues desperate to taste one another. The way you whimper against him makes him groan, his hand sliding down your thigh and spreading your legs apart so he can fit himself between them.

It’s when his fangs suddenly puncture your lips, drawing a hint of blood and making you cry out in surprise that he wakes up from his reverie, pushing himself away immediately to the other side of the room. You almost topple forward from suddenly losing him to lean on but manage to keep your balance by gripping at the edge of the counter.

Donghyuck turns around, facing the bathroom tiles as he leans one hand against the wall while his other one covers his mouth.

“Hyuck—”

“Sorry, let me just—“ His shoulders are shaking, trying his best to calm himself and the thirst that overwhelmed him earlier. “They’ll go back in a minute.”

“No.” You jump down from the counter, moving to his spot with careful steps. “Let me see them.”

He shakes his head, still not turning around to face you.

“I want to see them, Hyuck.” You place your hand on his shoulder, caressing him gently until he finally submits to your touch.

You only ever saw him with his fangs retracted twice in your life but even then, it was always too dark and too fast for you to see him properly. Now, you can take your time.

He’s so fascinating.

His eyes, as they peer into you in concern and uncertainty that he might hurt you, are glowing brightly in the color of topaz and they’re strikingly beautiful that you can barely look at anywhere else. His fangs are larger but he can still hide them behind his lips if needed. It’s the way they become frighteningly sharp that sends a shiver down your spine but you brave yourself enough to reach out to him.

“C-can I touch…?” You hesitantly ask, and he looks conflicted by the question but soon gives you a timid nod. He parts his mouth slightly so you can trace your fingertip along his cuspid, and you flinch as it feels like a knife splitting your skin.

He hastily pulls back, terrified at the thought of hurting you. “You’re okay?”

“Do it with me.”

“What?”

You take a deep breath, your heartbeat going crazy. “I want you to drink from me.”

“You’re crazy—”

“Please.” You lay a hand on his chest, tilting your head to the side, exposing your neck to his eyes. “Just try, Hyuck…”

The glimmer in his eyes shows that he’s yearning to fulfill your wish but he cups your cheek again, telling you, “You’re gonna regret this in the morning.”

“I won’t.” Your fingers find a home in his waves. “I’ve been wanting this for a long time so—”

A high-pitched yelp escapes your lips and you have to muffle the rest of your scream by mouthing against the fabric that covers his shoulder because Donghyuck doesn’t waste any second after he heard your confession. His canines are prickling against the skin under your jaw, just between the earlobe and the collarbone. And it hurts when he sinks them—so, so badly—that tears begin to form almost instantly behind your closed lids. Donghyuck suddenly lets you go, his eyes widening as he gazes at the way blood is gushing through his bite mark. “Fuck,” he says, “How can you taste so—” and he dives in again, moaning rather loudly when the warmth of your blood fills his mouth, swallowing a big gulp each time. “So fucking good,” he murmurs in pleasure, tightening his hold desperately around your waist as if you’re the thread that keeps him alive.

The pain only stays for a few seconds before a rush of endorphin seeps into your skin, running through your veins and pumping euphoria to every inch of your body. You slowly relax against his chest, eyes becoming half-lidded as you go into a trance, heartbeat slowing. You’ve never done any methamphetamine in your life but you imagine that it must feel somewhat like this.

“Hyuck…” You breathe out, feeling a little bit lightheaded, the strap of your camisole falling off your shoulder. You can feel your knees slowly giving out under your weight. “I… I can’t stand…”

He yanks himself away for a second, only to lift you so you can wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck. He carries you back to the counter, placing you down in the same spot as before, your legs dangling in the air.

“Better?” He asks, rubbing comforting circles with his thumb along your cheekbone. You nod, eyes going down to focus on his fangs again. His lips are painted with your blood, with some of it trickling down his chin. He’s a monster and he definitely looks like one, but his eyes are tender and his hands are silky smooth on your skin.

He slides his hand down to the hem of your camisole, fingers rubbing against the fabric as he peppers soft kisses along your jawline. “Is this one your favorite too?”

“Huh?” You’re having the hardest time trying to focus. “Oh… No, not really.”

“Well, then,” his lips are still sucking bruises on your neck when he rips both of your camisole and your bra with one flick of his hand, exposing your bare chest to the air, making you jump in surprise.

“Hyuck—” You’re silenced with another kiss, and it’s so consuming, so deep, so wild that you nearly sob against his mouth. The taste of copper makes you frown in discomfort but the knot starts to loosen when his tongue darts out to meet you in a messy kiss.

His hand is going down to your breast, cupping the side while he runs his thumb along your sensitive bud, making you rake your nails against his back in response. His other hand is tracing the curve of your waist, going down to your hips before he tears your skirt away, tossing the clothing somewhere across the room, following your previous ones.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he says, hooking his hands at the back of your knees before he pulls your legs forward, pressing his hardness against the wetness of your lingerie. You whine, circling your legs around his waist for stability, and murmurs, “No, don’t stop, please,” against his ear.

It’s not fair that he’s still fully clothed so you frantically toy with the buttons of his shirt, pushing the fabric off his shoulders with so much eagerness before you roam your lips to every inch of his exposed skin.

Donghyuck licks along the wound of his previous bite, emitting a sinful moan from the back of his throat when your blood sparks ecstasy in his mouth. His fingers are tentatively rubbing you over your lingerie and you beg with your lips muffled by the skin of his chest, “Take it off, just take it off, please—“

You can feel a tiny laugh reverberating from his chest over your desperation but you don’t care. You really are that desperate.

Donghyuck is more than willing to comply, sliding the lingerie down your thighs and you help him push it off your legs completely. You guide his palm to your heat, his fingers immediately sliding between your folds, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit. His mouth finds his way down the valley of your breasts and goes lower and lower until he has his head between your thighs.

You nibble at your lip in anticipation when he presses open-mouthed kisses on the inner part of your thigh. Donghyuck makes sure he has his eyes fixed on yours when he dips his fangs into your supple skin, making you quiver with the sensation.

“God, Hyuck.” You’re going insane, you can feel it. “I want you. I want you in me. I want you all over me.”

And he probably is too because he’s abandoning all of his self-control at once. The way he sucks bruises on your skin, lapping at the trail of blood that painted your body is almost animalistic, raw passion mixed with lust and uncontrollable desire. He unbuckles his belt in hurry, pushing his jeans and boxers down just low enough to release himself from its confines. You can feel his tip grazing against your clit before he glides his length down your folds, pulling you by the legs so you’re almost laying down on the counter, half of your back pressed against the mirror behind you.

His eyes are hooded but they speak reassurance when they bore into yours. “I’ll be gentle.”

Now that it finally sinks you’re going to do this for the first time, your lustful desire gradually changes into jitters. You nod, permitting him to proceed.

The feeling of him stretching you little by little is absolutely painful and he can tell that too, hissing, “Fuck, you’re so tight,” as his eyebrows adjoin in the middle. You can barely stand the pain and you’re about to stop him by reaching out a hand, but he grabs your wrist and sinks his teeth to your skin.

Another jolt of pain sends tremors all over your body but just like before, another rush of endorphin hits you like a wave, gradually reducing your pain until you’re in haze again, blissful even, but also even more aroused than before, hungry for his touch.

“You’re okay?” He asks, licking the blood that trails down your arm. “Are you still in pain?”

You’re breathing hard but you can feel your heartbeat slowing. “Stop talking and fuck me already.”

His glowing eyes are gazing down at you with desire, intense with lust. He runs his tongue along his lower lip once, smirking as he says, “Yes, Ma’am.”

Even when he said he was going to be gentle with you, he’s doing the exact opposite. Or maybe he is going gentle, which only makes you wonder how wild can he be when he’s not holding back. The thought of him losing control of his mind as he pounds into you senselessly makes you shudder, tightening yourself around his length unconciously.

“My God.” The feeling of your heat enveloping him—squeezing around him—makes him drop his temple on your shoulder, dissolving him into a groaning mess. “You are driving me insane, do you know that?”

“Don’t hold back,” you hold his face, caressing his sharp jawline with trembling fingers. “Just do what you want.”

“But I’ll break you.” Although his eyes seem like he’s about to grant your wish.

You let your tongue slide up from his chin to his lower lip, stopping just to whisper, “Then break me apart, I don’t care,” before you crush his mouth with yours again.

Donghyuck’s thrust is both deep and hard, knocking your breath with each pound as he holds you by your hips, nails clawing into the skin. Maybe it’s the trace of endorphin left in your body that heightened all your senses while at the same time washing all your pain away because everything feels so unbelievably good. His touches, his kisses, his thrusts, and the way he moves his hips faster and faster until you can’t properly breathe—everything feels amazing.

And his voice—God, his voice—the way he moans and grunts against your ear, or when he sprouts expletives while he buries his face deep in the crook of your neck, lips scorching against your skin, makes you think fuck why did I waste a fucking year doing nothing when I can have him like—

You’re interrupted from finishing your thought when Donghyuck suddenly pulls out of you, making you whimper from the loss, and turns you around, forcing you to land on your feet again, your stomach pressed against the edge of the counter. You place both hands on the marbled surface as he pulls your hips closer to him, pressing his hardness against your behind as he presses his chest to your spine.

“Come here, look,” he says, holding you by the chin and lifts your face so you can gaze directly into the mirror. He shifts his hand, now holding back your bangs so your eyes are reflected perfectly. “Look how beautiful you are,” he purrs near your ear, the tip of his nose brushing against your jawline.

It’s both embarrassing and arousing to see yourself being held domineeringly by him, the curves of your body fit his perfectly even from behind. Your lips are bruised and swollen, blood smears messily around your neck, your wrist, your thigh even on your hips from the way he trailed his coated fingers along the skin.

Donghyuck raises two of his blood-smeared fingers to your lips, mixing your lipstick with your own blood before he slowly drags his fingers away, painting blurred lines of crimson to your cheek. He sighs at the sight, eyes half-lidded as they glow brighter. “If I’m a monster,” he says, voice low and breathy, “Then you’re a fucking goddess.”

You shudder and avert your gaze, ashamed of how sultry you look in the mirror and how sinful his gaze is as they rake over your body. He presses close, completing the dip of your spine with his chest like a matching puzzle. His fingers curl around the front of your neck, forcing you to look at your reflection once more as he licks a stripe up your wound. “We look good together, don’t you think?”

You’re breathing hard, chest heaving up and down with each breath. “Hyuck…” You crave for him to fill you again like before. “Please, just—"

He glides his hand down between your legs, teasing you with small touches but strong and fast enough to make you quiver. “So sensitive too,” he chuckles, nipping slightly at your earlobe. “You’re so fucking cute.”

Before you can retort anything back, he pushes the head of his cock into your heat again, agonizingly slowly at first but slams the rest of it with one snap of his hips.

“I’ve thought about this—about us—I think about you a lot,” he confesses, with low groans interrupting his lines. “You’re really driving me insane with that face of yours, your lips, your voice—whenever you call my name, whenever you pout after losing an argument—the way you secretly stare at me wherever I go—”

“I don’t—” You gasp, thighs trembling under your weight and he wraps an arm along your stomach, holding you still while he pushes in deeper. “I never—”

“And the way you lie just like now, with that blush creeping on your face.” He chuckles, kissing the middle of your shoulder blades. “Fuck, you’re so cute—so fucking cute that it pisses me off whenever you talk about Mark when we both know he can’t satisfy you the way I do—he doesn’t understand you— doesn’t get your stupid jokes—” He begins to fall out of rhythm, hips moving faster with each thrust. “He doesn’t deserve you—I deserve you.”

You catch the sight of your reflection, noticing how he sometimes throws his head back in pleasure, his strong hands gripping on the sides of your waist as he rolls his hips again and again, thrusting into you until you can only cry out his name and nothing more. It’s too obscene, too erotic for your eyes to witness, and when he locks his gaze with yours in the mirror, you nearly faint.

“H-Hyuck—” You reach out a hand back, trying to find his for support but he holds your wrist against your spine, pumping into you with strong strokes, leaving you with no options other than pressing the side of your face against the marble countertop, mouth parting in a silent scream.

The sounds of his groans and your whimpers echo through the bathroom walls, along with the sound of your skin meeting his. His teeth prickling against your shoulder, his eyes going to see how you look underneath him in the mirror before he sinks his fangs deep into you, making various sounds of pleasure as he drinks your blood.

The sensation of his thrust, his fingers slightly choking you as he holds you by your neck, and the amount of endorphin that washes over you soon drives you to your release and he embraces you closer, feeling every shake that you emit directly with his body. And maybe it’s from the loss of blood or everything else combined, but your vision starts to blur and suddenly your world turns black.

***

When you wake up, you’re laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling you’ve seen a million times with your eyes barely open. You’re still pretty much in a haze, not sure if you’re still floating inside your dream or back in reality. It’s until your door opens with a click that you can start to differentiate.

“Ah, you’re awake.” He peeks inside through the door holding your favorite mug, already dressed back in his favorite black tee and matching jeans. “I was wondering when you’d wake up. Can I come in?”

He walks in without needing an answer and, weirdly, he doesn’t seem nervous or awkward when the sight of him already makes you blush fervently and your heart races fast. A flashback comes in like an unstoppable train and you almost reach out a hand to your neck, wanting to know if his bite mark is still there.

The way he acts is so natural that you begin to wonder whether all that happened was simply your imagination. But when you try to move your body, jolts of pain runs like electricity to your bones, making you freeze instantly. It feels like somebody is trying to crack your head open, tearing your body apart and you fall back to the bed, weak and exhausted.

“You all right?” He immediately rushes to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed, checking on your face. “You lost a lot of blood, so I wouldn’t move too much if I were you. I brought you some coconut water, here,” he places the mug down on your nightstand. “And some supplements too. They’ll help with your blood loss. I’ll cook some fish and eggs for dinner later.”

You can only nod, too tired to even speak. His eyes begin to soften, his fingers reaching out to caress the strands of your hair. “I guess I went a bit overboard, I’m sorry.”

“A bit…?” You croak out.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats but can’t help a smile forming on his face. “I tried so hard not to, but you were so cute.” He leans closer, his lips hovering above yours but he rethinks his decision before he closes the gap, and moves to press a gentle kiss on your forehead instead. “You should get more sleep,” he murmurs against your skin. “Call me when you need help. I’ll be right outside.”

And he doesn’t spare you a glance as he stands up from the bed, but the way he trips on his feet once makes you realize that oh, maybe he’s embarrassed about all this too.

“Hyuck.”

He stops in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder as he lays a hand against your doorframe. “Yeah?”

“Where does this leave us?”

His face slightly goes stern. Turning over to face you, he questions further. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you pause, wetting your lip in anxiety. “Do you want us to pretend it didn’t happen?”

His eyes darken, somehow seem a bit upset. “Do you?”

“I… Uhh…” The way your heart is beating so fast makes you feel nauseous. “I don’t, but—”

“Then don’t suggest something like that,” he sighs, walking back to your bed again. He kneels on the floor so you’re eye-to-eye, squeezing your hand with his larger one. “Don’t scare me, okay? I finally have you where I want you.”

You look away, attempting to hide your flustered face. “But then, what are we now?”

“I don’t care what we are. I just want us to keep doing this.”

“Doing what, sex? You drinking my blood?”

“No, idiot.” He rolls his eyes. “I mean, yes, of course, that too. Plenty of that. But what I meant was I want to continue to have this kind of relationship with you. Us living together, making fun of each other, having dinners together, even spend hours watching re-runs of your stupid tv shows—”

“They’re not stupid.”

“They’re stupid. I only watch them because of you. You are my favorite show.” He winks, breaking the tension and you blurt out laughing, shoving him playfully by the shoulder. But when your giggle starts to fade, Donghyuck leans in to cup your cheek, smiling softly. “I just want to spend more time with you, as long as you’d let me. So can we have that? Please?”

“I…” You’re so captivated by his features, especially the shape of his lips. “I guess…”

“You guess?” He scrunches up his nose. “You’re playing hard to get again? Seriously? After all the begging you did in the bathroom?” Seeing you blush only makes him want to tease you harder. “What was it that you said? God, Hyuck, I want you. I want you in me. I want you all over me—“

“Okay, shut up, geez!” You slap a hand against his mouth, steam practically coming out of your ears. “Yes, we can have that. I’d… love to have that actually.”

Kissing your inner palm, he lovingly smiles against your skin, appreciating your honesty. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, Sweetheart?”

***

Read the sequel here

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chasingpj · 3 years ago

Text

𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

“Buen provecho, mijo.”

pairing: leo valdez x gn reader

requested?: yes!

warnings: a little angsty, discussing the death of a parent

category: fluff, one-shot, a slice of life

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts forever. i'm so excited to finally have it posted and i hope you guys like it!

Leo’s shivering body is engulfed in a soft duvet until the crown of his head. His brown curls sprawled on the stark white cloth are the only evidence of his presence, the sheets swallowing his body so well that it appears to be stacked messily and not holding a groggy Leo.

Despite your protests of wrapping himself up like this, he couldn’t help it. The chills that came with his fever were too much to ignore, which says a lot; Leo’s rarely cold. You’d be able to keep him warm, he considers, and there’s a deep urge to hold your frame against him. With a weak groan, he shifts in the tunnel of sheets.

Stupid Flu.

The last thing he’d want is to get you sick. Having your shared bed all to himself for the past few days as he persists through the discomfort of illness has been lonely. At first, it was a little fun. Getting a break from your occasional kicks and shifts that would wake him up throughout the night was nice, but he began to miss it after a while. Those pesky sleepy habits were worth it as they came with the comfort of your presence, the sweet scent of your body, and the softness of your skin. He ached at the absence of your company even though you were literally in the next room over.

He wondered what you could be doing having that this ache for you isn’t a new occurrence. Just a few minutes ago, he had called your name only to receive a “one second!”

So he waited, and well, it’s been much longer than a second.

As if he summoned you with his thoughts, the creaking of the door hinges catches his attention, drawing a soft hum from Leo’s lips. Feeling too weak to lift his head, he instead tugs down the duvet just enough to reveal his puppy brown eyes that sag with fatigue. “Lee, I have a surprise for you.” The ringing sound of your sweet voice makes his mouth curl up in a smile. Leo furrows his eyebrows, eyes averting from your pretty face as he notices your hands are hiding behind your back. “What is it, cariño?” He croaks, flinching at the dull soreness in his muscles as he pulls himself up to rest against the headboard.

“Close your eyes,” you demand with a giddy tone, and Leo complies with a short laugh. “Don’t peek!” A clinging of metal follows the sounds of pattering footsteps and a giggle of excitement before he receives the okay to open his eyes again.

Through thick eyelashes, he's met with stretched-out arms, presenting a deep blue bowl of soup on your palms. “It’s Caldo de Pollo!” The nostalgic aroma hits his senses the moment you confess what it is. He leans in, getting a better view of chunks of potato, carrots, corn, and chicken that peek through an orange broth. The sight makes his mouth water, and to your surprise, his eyes too.

The dish reminded him so much of his mother. Suddenly, he was a kid again. His small eyes watch Esperanza place a bowl filled to the rim of the familiar dish on the table in front of him.

“Buen provecho, mijo.”

Leo grinned, revealing the gaps of teeth that haven’t grown in yet. "Gracias Mama," he chimed, swinging his stubby legs in his chair. For a second, there is a look of caution across his mother’s face as Leo picks up his spoon and shovels the soup into his mouth. But as it becomes clear that neither the hot liquid nor the sweltering heat of the day bothered him, she relaxes and settles in the chair across from him.

His mother’s eyes filled with adoration, a soft giggle comes from her lips as Leo, too hungry to care, has dampened his shirt in the midst of eating. In his memory, the image of her is hazy, but he can make out the rosy tint on her lips as she smiles at him, her long nose, her silky hair that's usually pulled up in a ponytail, cascading over her shoulders.

The memory is more vivid than any of his dreams. He could make out the glow of the setting sun from the curtains. Under his forearms, he could feel the stickiness of the plastic cover over the table cloth. Every detail of his childhood home was exactly where he remembered it.

One of Leo’s biggest fears is that one day he’d forget his mother’s face, her voice, the little memories he had of her. Already, day by day, the recalling of his mother’s comforting scent becomes weaker. Sometimes, he’d get a whiff of it when he’s on a quest or when he’s alone. He’d like to think that those moments meant that his mother was watching over him, that she truly wasn’t all gone.

Though this soup, the one you’ve presented in your arms, confirmed that the remaining pieces of her existence didn’t solely live in his memory but in everything. She lives in the stars that she was always so fond of. She lives in the Tejano music she used to sing along to when she worked or cleaned. She lived in the running engine of everything he’d ever created. She lives in this soup, the same soup she made him when he was sick or often, to his dismay, in the middle of the summer.

He never needed a moment to freeze in time to remember all that was his mother.

Leo’s eyes glisten with tears. The silence, the bleakness of his expression, made you look down at the soup yourself. You didn’t think your soup looked bad at all, especially not bad enough to bring Leo near tears. You even plated it nicely, garnishing the soup with cilantro and a lime wedge.

"Is it wrong? Bad? I had to look up the recipe, and I-"

"No, no. It's just- it reminds me of my mom." He smiles sadly at you, and you frown, taking a seat beside him on the bed. His expression softens, eyes studying your face. What did he do to get so lucky? "You made this for me?"

You nod. "I thought I should make you soup since you're feeling so sick today." You balance the bottom of the bowl in one hand as the other reaches over, pressing the backside against his forehead. A tsk leaves your lips; the heat radiating off of Leo's forehead was much warmer than usual. "I was looking at soup recipes, and I came across a recipe for Caldo de Pollo. Try it; I think you'll like it!"

Leo reaches over with weak hands, grasping the bowl of soup before bringing it to his chest. He leans in to take in the aromas.

“I didn’t poison it,” you joke. A watery laugh comes from Leo, the vibrations sending a few tears down his cheeks. Your stomach flutters at the sound, but your heart aches at the sight of his tears. You hated seeing him cry. Your thumbs gently wipe away the stray tears on his face as he admires you. “I don’t know. I’ve seen you burn a lot of things in the past couple of years,” he teases. You cross your arms over your chest, not having enough times when you didn’t burn any food to defend yourself so you wave him off.

“Whatever,” you huff playfully. Leo chuckles as he brings the spoon full of broth up to his lips, and you shift in your place. You’re filled with anticipation, hoping that the recipe was authentic enough. “How is it?”

The flavors of the soup are almost the same as his mother’s, and he hums, a soft sigh of satisfaction leaves his lips.

“It’s amazing, mi amor.” The pet name you love rolls off his tongue slow and smooth. You sit up proudly at the praise, taking in Leo’s lovestruck expression. Before you know it, the other leans in for a kiss, and you scrunch your face. A scoff of playful offense leaves Leo’s lips.

“Why would you kiss me?” Leo whines with a cute pout. As much as you want to kiss him, you knew you shouldn't. “You’re sick,” you remind him, and he dramatically sits back against the wall, playing with his spoon.

“Kiss me, and then we can be sick together.” Leo wiggles his eyebrows, trying to convince you with a smile that drops the moment you shake your head.

“No way. Keep your cooties to yourself.” To your surprise, Leo sticks his tongue out at you. The action makes you snort as you rise from the bed. “I won’t kiss you, but I’ll sit and eat with you.” Leo shrugs, the solution is not as satisfying as a kiss, but he’ll settle with spending time with you. With a nod from him, he watches as you disappear past the doorway to get your bowl of soup.

In your absence, he takes a few more sips, the memory of his mother flickering in his mind. There’s a familiar gloominess that lingers at the fact that he will never be able to hug his mom or see her face again but being aware that her presence will always remain brings a sense of closure that Leo didn’t know he needed.

In his darkest hours, there was always a glimmer of hope that kept him moving forward. There was always a feeling that things would get better in time. This dull light, the voice that told him to pick himself back up, perhaps, it was his mother being true to her namesake all along.

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#leo x reader #leo valdez imagine #leo valdez one shot #leo valdez fanfic #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez #leo valdez x you #leo valdez fanfiction #my writing

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spine-buster · 4 years ago

Text

Patience is a Virtue ft. Matthew Tkachuk | 𝒯𝑒𝓂𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒

CONTENT WARNING: this story deals with cults, polygamous cults, escaping cults, strict adherence to religion, gender roles, abuse, miscarriage, and a character with a traumatic past. ̲𝖳̲𝗁̲𝗂̲𝗌̲ ̲𝖼̲𝗁̲𝖺̲𝗉̲𝗍̲𝖾̲𝗋̲ ̲𝗌̲𝗉̲𝖾̲𝖼̲𝗂̲𝖿̲𝗂̲𝖼̲𝖺̲𝗅̲𝗅̲𝗒̲ ̲𝗁̲𝖺̲𝗌̲ ̲𝗆̲𝖾̲𝗇̲𝗍̲𝗂̲𝗈̲𝗇̲𝗌̲ ̲𝖺̲𝗇̲𝖽̲ ̲𝖽̲𝖾̲𝖺̲𝗅̲𝗌̲ ̲𝗐̲𝗂̲𝗍̲𝗁̲ ̲𝗍̲𝗋̲𝖺̲𝗎̲𝗆̲𝖺̲ ̲𝖺̲𝗋̲𝗂̲𝗌̲𝗂̲𝗇̲𝗀̲ ̲𝖿̲𝗋̲𝗈̲𝗆̲ ̲𝗆̲𝗂̲𝗌̲𝖼̲𝖺̲𝗋̲𝗋̲𝗂̲𝖺̲𝗀̲𝖾̲𝗌̲ ̲𝖺̲𝗇̲𝖽̲ ̲𝗌̲𝖾̲𝗑̲𝗎̲𝖺̲𝗅̲ ̲𝖺̲𝖻̲𝗎̲𝗌̲𝖾̲.̲ Please be warned.

Word Count: 15,503

A/N: I have been loving your feedback on this story so far. Your canon question about Matthew and Effie are great and I would love to hear and answer more. It means the world to me that a plot this...unconventional, let’s say, is really taking hold and generating interest. I know that there’s some really, really serious stuff dealt with in the chapters, so I appreciate everyone’s feedback and maturity about it. As always, please check the content warning for this chapter. Otherwise, I hope everyone enjoys the update!

* * * * *

She wrote every message on Instagram like an email, and Matthew couldn’t get enough of it.

Hello Matthew,

Today was interesting. I started classes for my business certificate today. I sat in a room with about 50 other people and I listened to my professor speak about the course prospectus and what we would be learning and doing. I didn’t meet any new people or make any new friends but that’s okay. I want to focus on my studies. I already have homework.

How has St. Louis been? I bet you are excited to be back home. I hope you are relaxing and staying safe.

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

I know you are going to ace that program, Effie. You’re very talented and smart and it’ll be no time until you find yourself with a certificate and able to explore more job opportunities.

St. Louis is good. Brady and Taryn are home too so it’s good to be surrounded by family. I know it’s not the same for you but one day I think you will find a group of friends that will make up your family. Most days I go golfing with my dad. I usually relax by our pool too, or play basketball or some other sport with Brady. I go to the gym too, to keep up on my fitness for next season.

Hello Matthew,

Class was good today. We started the beginning lectures. The professor went quickly but I was able to keep up. I’m definitely learning how to type fast on my laptop!

You said in your message that I’m very talented but I don’t think I’m talented. I’m maybe talented at some things like baking, but I don’t think I’m talented in much else. Talents are developed over time and I was never given the opportunity to develop anything because I was expected to be a good wife, tend to children, and read the Bible. Sometimes I think about if I could have been a piano player or a singer or something creative. Maybe I could have been a writer like Geneviève if I was given the opportunity young, but I wasn’t. But that’s okay. I am trying to make my peace with it. I will develop what I have now and try to use it for good.

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

Nobody bakes like you, Effie. Please don’t think you are not talented, because you are. I know you weren’t able to develop anything like you said, but you can still find your talents now. You’re still young! You’re only entering your 20s in a few weeks. You can do whatever you set your mind to.

Hi Matthew,

Levi and Jenna took me to the mall again today. We bought some new clothes that fit me better and aren’t so baggy. They look really nice. I even bought a dress that falls right at my knee. Can you believe it?! I never thought I’d wear something like that. I never thought anybody else would be able to see my legs! It’s a very weird feeling but it’s a very pretty dress. Jenna said I should wear it for my birthday and I think I’m going to do it. Do you want to see it? I can send you a picture of it if you want.

I checked the weather in St. Louis and saw there was a big thunderstorm. I hope you weren’t caught it in or anything. I can’t imagine your curly hair getting wet in the rain and what it would look like.

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

What are you trying to say about my hair??????????

I would love to see your dress. I bet it looks great on you. And you will need to send me pictures of you wearing it on your birthday.

They happened daily. Usually sometime after dinner, when Matthew knew Effie had just finished eating and was either winding down for the night or preparing to do homework. Every day, he waited for the message. And every day, he’d grab his phone the second he heard the notification, not bothering to wait, and read the message eagerly.

***

Matthew found himself at a raucous house party, one that could have been characteristic of any stereotypical college experience or American movie trying to depict a traditional American life. It felt like it was straight out of the American Pie movies. A friend of his was hosting, and there was everything – beer kegs, jungle juice, trashed guys jumping into the pool, music blasting so loud Matthew almost couldn’t hear his own thoughts, girls taking selfies and posting to Instagram or complaining about boys at the party not paying attention to them.

Hot girls taking selfies and posting to Instagram or complaining about boys – he and Brady – not paying attention to them.

Brady was taken and accounted for – Emma was great and Matthew loved her, even though he saw her only sparingly – and so most of the attention tonight was placed on Matthew. He was the shiny new toy every time he came back to St. Louis in the summers – well, shiny always, but new not so much. Nothing was new about him being in St. Louis in the summer, but everybody always treated is as such a big deal because he spent most of the year in Calgary. That’s why attention was always on him, especially at parties like this. That’s why everybody wanted to talk to him. That’s why all the girls wanted to talk to him. Matthew didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to enjoy his night with his buddies, drinking beer and chatting them all up.

That was…until Leah made an appearance.

Leah, a girl. Leah, a girl he would hook up with in the summers…occasionally. Sporadically. Like, once a summer when he was back. Maybe twice. She’d always show up everywhere and smile and be nice. And when Matthew was tipsy, or just a little bit drunk, he’d think ‘What the hell’ and let the night take him where it wanted to take him.

Just like now.

“Hey Matty,” she cooed, smiling as she always did and biting the bottom of her lip. She went in for a hug, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He could swear she spilled some of her jungle juice on his neck.

“Hey Leah,” he said, his lips in a tight smile as she pulled away. She was wearing a frilly crocheted top and cut-off denim shorts. She looked hot. Any guy at the party would have wanted to hook up with her. “How are you?”

“Better now that I see you,” her flirting was automatic. “How long have you been back for?”

“A few weeks,” Matthew shrugged his shoulders.

“And no call or text? Ouch, Matty.”

“You always show up places,” he found himself saying, feeling his lips curve into a smirk. “Didn’t think I needed to call.”

“Well then maybe I should have sent you a text.”

The party went on. Matthew hung out with his buddies and talked up a storm. Everybody got a kick out of his hockey stories and were practically begging for more. He’d catch Leah staring at him from a few friend groups away where she stayed with her girlfriends, or from across the backyard or something, and she’d always bite her lip and flutter her eyelashes. The beers kept pouring down his throat and he noticed her get closer and closer until she wiggled her way in with her friends. It probably took a while, but in Matthew’s mind, it felt like it was only a minute until she was right in front of him, red solo cup in her hand.

“Have you tried the jungle juice?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I’ve been drinking beer all night.”

“Come get some inside with me,” she said, already grabbing his hand. She wasn’t taking no for an answer. She pulled him as he staggered behind her, almost tripping on the steps of the patio and while walking through the screen door. When they finally got to the kitchen, Leah looked over her shoulder and winked before tugging Matthew nearer to her body. She spun around in front of the jungle juice to pour some more into her cup. When she did, Matthew could feel her ass up against his groin. He felt like he was going to pass out from the beer.

“Did you miss me, Matty?” she asked as she looked at him over her shoulder again.

“I miss everyone in St. Louis,” he replied.

Leah apparently didn’t like that response, because she grinded her ass up against his groin even harder now. “Don’t say that,” she cooed. “I know you miss me. It’s not like there’s anybody in Calgary like me.”

Matthew hummed. She was right. There wasn’t anybody like her in Calgary.

Effie was nothing like her.

Matthew’s stomach twisted as images of Effie flooded his mind. The first one that came was the day he had picked her up at the hairdresser’s when she’d chopped off all her hair. She looked so cute, and he remembered how bashful he was. Then came the image of her sitting on another couch watching Little Women intently, at least fifteen bags of candy spread out on the coffee table of Levi’s basement. She was so into watching the movie, and he was so into watching her. Then came the image of her face, sweet and innocent and beautiful – the last face he saw in Calgary before heading to the airport and boarding a plane to St. Louis. “No,” he mumbled out, half-drunk and heart aching.

“No,” Leah repeated with a smile on her face, turning around finally to face him before trailing her finger down his chest and letting in linger on the hem of his jeans. “There’s nobody in Calgary like me.”

He furrowed his brows. He wanted out, but his feet felt like cement. They always were when he was on the edge of being drunk. He gulped. “Where’s Brady?”

“Come with me, Matty,” she tugged at his jeans before grabbing his hands again and dragging him through the house. She kept looking over her shoulder to smile at him and he kept looking back towards the backyard. “I know what you need.”

She led him down a hallway, and at the end of that hallway was the bathroom. She turned on the light and dragged him inside, shutting the door behind them and locking it. She looked at him suggestively when the click filled the air. “Le—”

“Shhh…” she pressed her finger against his lips to shut him up, replacing them quickly with her lips as she began to kiss him.

Matthew closed his eyes.

These weren’t Effie’s lips.

She was kissing his neck now, and had backed him into the sink so he could lean against it. Her hands wandered down to the button and zipper of his jeans. Suddenly, she dipped down and was on her knees in front of him. “Want me to suck you off, Matty?”

“N—No,” he stuttered out, looking down at her. Matthew felt the zipper being pushed down and her hand on his groin.

“You can come down my throat,” she offered.

He closed his eyes tightly, and in the darkness, he saw only one person: Effie.

The only thing that brought him back – because he could have stayed alone in the bathroom with his eyes closed and the image of Effie in his mind for the rest of the God damn party if he really wanted to – was the sound of his zipper being pushed down dramatically. He opened his eyes. “Would you stop?!” he demanded, wiggling out of where he’d been backed into the sink. He grabbed the front of his pants and zipped them up again.

Leah, still on her knees, spun around and glared at him. “Oh you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” she got up slowly, not breaking eye contact. “You have someone in Calgary?” she demanded.

Matthew refused to answer as he did up his button.

“Who the fuck is she?” she demanded again.

“There’s nobody.”

“Fucking hell there’s nobody. What’s her name?”

“Don’t go there, Leah. As if I’d tell you.”

“You’re fucking someone in Calgary? Since when?”

“As if I’d tell you,” he repeated.

She gave him one last glare because unlocking the door. “Fuck you Matthew Tkachuk. You’ll fucking miss me.”

“Doubt it.”

***

Hi Matthew,

I went to a Starbucks today to work on some school work and people watch. When you get back to Calgary, we will need to find a new Starbucks because the one near Levi’s house is too far away now. Anyway, I was working on an assignment and watching people interact and go about their daily lives. It was eye-opening and a bit weird to me. A lot of people were on their phones! It makes me wonder if I should be on it more…? A lot of the girls who walked in were really fashionable and it makes me want to go shopping again. I don’t think I’ll ever look as good as Geneviève or Annica but I could definitely try, and they could help me. I learn a lot by people watching. Does that make me weird?

I had a Zoom call with Geneviève and Jacob in Sweden. She is doing well and helped me with my assignment a little bit. I’ve been baking shortbread recently, and I’m going to make butter tarts tomorrow. I miss you being my taste-tester, but I bet you are happy to have home cooking. Sometimes I wonder if my siblings miss my cooking but I doubt they do.

Did you think I was weird when I said I didn’t miss my family at all?

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

I do not think you are weird at all for not missing your family. They were abusive. You have no reason to miss them.

People are addicted to their phones these days, which is why you’re so refreshing. You’re not a slave to it…at least yet lol. I hurt my eyes sometimes from staring at my screen too long.

I can’t wait to eat ALL of your baking when I get back. It’s the best, Effie. It really is.

I miss you a lot.

Hi Matthew,

I miss you too.

Thank you for not thinking I’m weird for not missing my family.

I’ve been watching a lot of movies and listening to a lot of music. I’ve been researching what’s been popular since I was born and I’m trying to, like, catch up I guess. Some of the movies I don’t like or don’t get. Some of them are really funny, and I watched them because I know people quote them all the time. Like this movie called Bridesmaids. I want to be able to get references people make even though I wasn’t in the moment of them. There are some movies I’ve read about online that seem amazing, but I don’t want to watch them alone. They are:

Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind Moonlight There Will Be Blood Shoplifters Brokeback Mountain The Master Unorthodox

When you come back to Calgary, would you watch them all with me?

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

Of course I’ll watch them all with you.

***

Effie Schaffer woke up the morning of her 20th birthday, on July 7, 2021, to her phone ringing. Birthdays were not a thing in the People’s Dominion of Christ. They were not celebrated. Effie always knew when hers was, but as a kid she never had a birthday party, and when she was forced to marry the prophet, she hated her birthday. Hated it. She always wished that the prophet would forget about it but he never did. It was the one day of the year she spent the most time praying, and when she was not praying, she was with the prophet on his demand. Several weeks later, usually, after a lot of blood loss and visit from the cult’s midwife (though she wasn’t properly medically trained), Abraham would tell Effie that everything was her fault, that God was testing him when He spoke to Abraham and told him to take Effie as his wife. “July 7. 7/7. One number above the Devil,” he’d tell her. “That’s what you are. Just above the devil. Your blood and your loss are the signs of having the devil in you. That’s why you refuse to carry my Son of God.”

She wasn’t expecting anybody to call besides Levi and Jenna, but they said they would be picking her up at noon anyway. After she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and sat up in bed a little bit, she was pleasantly surprised, albeit a little shocked, to see Matthew’s name flash across the screen. The giant FaceTime text was at the bottom of screen. Effie swiped to answer. After a bit of lagging, Matthew’s smiling face appeared. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” he screamed, loudly, causing her to jump slightly.

“Thank you, Matthew,” she said, her heartbeat going back to normal.

“How does it feel to officially be in your twenties?” he asked.

Effie could barely think, so she shrugged. “When I wake up and my brain starts working, I’ll tell you.”

Matthew furrowed his brows. It was only then that he noticed half of her hair in a scrunchie and the pillows behind her head. “Oh shit, I fucked up time zones, didn’t I?” he asked worriedly. “What time is it there?”

Effie looked at her watch. “It’s 7:30 in the morning.”

“I woke you up! Jesus Effie, I’m so sorry,” he began to apologize. “I’m such an idiot—”

“It’s okay, Matthew,” she said, smiling at how his own smile had faded from his face when he realized he had woken her up early. 7:30 in the morning would have been a godsend two years ago, when she usually woke up at 5:30. “It’s nice to be woken up by your voice on my birthday, actually. Someone is at least treating it like a birthday.”

“Levi’s gonna treat you,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. As if Levi wouldn’t.

“I know,” she said. “I mean, like…before. Birthdays weren’t exactly a celebration.”

“You never used to celebrate your birthday?” he asked, thinking back to all the amazing birthdays his parents had thrown he and his siblings over the years. Because his was so close to Christmas, it was extra special. His parents always made sure Christmas didn’t overshadow it too much. Same with Taryn being born on Halloween. Brady’s parties were always good too because they were right after the start of school, so usually the entire class would be invited.

“No,” Effie shook her head. Matthew was sort of waiting for her to elaborate, but it seemed like she didn’t want to. He left it at that. “Levi’s taking me to that steakhouse we went to for Noah’s birthday,” she informed him. “I think I’m gonna have another tomahawk.”

Matthew smiled again. “Please do, in honour of me.”

“Maybe I’ll take a picture of it to show you what you’re missing.”

“Believe me, I know what I’m missing,” he said. He bit his lip, wondering for a quick second if he should tell her about the gifts coming her way. He quickly decided against it, thinking it would be better left as a surprise. “I’m sorry I can’t be there, Effie.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Matthew,” she told him, meaning it sincerely. “It’s an amazing thing that you’re so close to them. I…believe me, I know how important that is…to be able to have people who love you unconditionally, to be able to have people who love you and want to see you and always have your best interests at heart. I would never want to take that away from you. And besides, when we watch all those movies together…you’ll be there. We’ll be reunited.”

He licked his lips, nodding quickly. “You bet.”

***

Matthew had been lying around the house all day after playing a round of golf with his dad that morning. He’d tanned by the pool with Taryn and ate straight from the bag of Veggie Straws, but he was pretty glued to his phone because he wanted to see the delivery updates for the gifts he’d gotten Effie for her birthday.

The first gift was a giant bouquet of flowers. Peonies, mostly, of course, because of her tattoo, set in a beautiful vase. He’d gotten the delivery notification, then about five minutes later he’d received a picture of it from Effie over Instagram saying thank you. Fifteen minutes later, she uploaded a photo of it to her Instagram feed and tagged him. ‘Beautiful bouquet of peonies from my friend Matthew! I am twenty years old today.’ was her caption. That was the first gift.

The second was a delivery of some cookies from an amazing bakery in Calgary that Annica and Geneviève always ordered from. The cookies were divine, but realistically, they weren’t better than Effie’s cookies. But Effie making cookies for her own birthday wasn’t exactly a gift, so he knew he’d have to order her a batch. Again, he’d gotten the notification that the cookies had been delivered, and ten minutes later, Effie had sent a selfie of her with one of the chocolate chip cookies. ‘Yum!’ she’d texted with the photo. Another notification on Instagram told him Effie had uploaded another photo and tagged him in it. ‘My friend Matthew gave me cookies too! How sweet! Cookies are some of my favourite treats.’ He absolutely loved her feed and the way she used Instagram. If he had to delete everyone else and just follow her, he’d do it.

The last gift was the trickiest. He didn’t know how she’d react. But she didn’t have one of her own – she’d been borrowing Jenna’s – and she needed one, quite literally, for her job. He wondered if she’d like the colour. And the make. And all the attachments.

A ‘MATTHEW, YOU DIDN’T’ text suddenly came through on his phone, and he couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear. It was the first time it didn’t sound like an email.

Do u like it? he texted back.

I LOVE IT IN THE PISTACHIO TOO MY FAVOURITE COLOUR AND THE SIFTER ATTACHMENT AND THE ICE CREAM MAKER ATTACHMENT MATTHEW!

Im happy u like it! Now u can bake all you want and not have to borrow Jenna’s

“Taryn, mom needs you inside to help with something,” Brady’s voice boomed through the silence of the backyard. Matthew heard the screen door burst open, and watched conspicuously through his sunglasses as Brady more or less barged towards them.

“Can she wait?” Taryn didn’t make any effort to move.

“Now Taryn. She seems pretty adamant,” Brady didn’t give up, his tone serious as he continued to walk towards them.

Taryn grumbled and got up from her seat. Matthew locked his phone and pretended not to care, even when Brady took Taryn’s place in her lawn chair right beside him and didn’t bother lying down. Instead, he sat facing Matthew, elbows on his knees and hands joined together, like he was a cop about to interrogate his brother. “Who’s in Calgary?”

Matthew looked over at him. “Huh?”

“Who’s in Calgary?” Brady asked again.

Matthew was confused. “G…Gio?” he asked.

“Who’s in Calgary that made you not hook up with Leah at the party?”

Matthew’s heart dropped in the pit of his stomach. For fuck sakes. He sighed deeply and took off his sunglasses, trying to make it seem like everything was being blown out of proportion when, really, Matthew just didn’t want people knowing. But he told Brady everything – everything. He was sort of impressed that the secret had lasted this long, if he was being honest. “Brady…” he began, his voice low.

Brady took off his sunglasses too. “There’s a girl.”

“Sort of. It’s complicated.”

“It’s complicated? What’s her name?”

Matthew thought about not telling him, but there was no point. Brady would find out eventually, and Matthew would rather Brady learn the news from him than from the rumour mill or from Leah stalking his social media. “It’s…Effie.”

“Effie?”

“Who’s Effie?” Taryn voice boomed. The boys whipped their head to see her standing at their family room’s sliding doors, hiding behind the screen door.

“Taryn!” both brothers yelled at their sister.

“Effie? Who’s Effie?” Chantal called out from the kitchen.

“What’s an Effie?” Keith asked from beside Chantal.

“Oh my GOD this is a disaster!” Matthew screamed out in frustration. “Get out of here, Taryn!”

“Who’s Effie?” Brady demanded once more.

Matthew put his heads in his hands dramatically before giving up. There was no way he was going to get out of this. Now his whole family would know. It would be a game of telephone, and by the end of his and Brady’s conversation, Keith would hear Matthew married a girl named Jessie who’d grown up in a hut. “You remember me talking about one of our physio guys? Levi Schaffer?” Matthew asked. Brady nodded. “His younger sister.”

Brady furrowed his brows. “Isn’t Levi in his thirties? You’re dating an older woman, Matthew?”

Matthew rolled his eyes. “No, you dolt. She’s fifteen years younger than he is.”

“SHE’S FIFTEEN?!”

“WHAT?!” Taryn screamed from the screen door again.

“AAAAAAARGHHHH!” Matthew screamed in absolute frustration. “You are literally the dumbest person alive, you know that right?!” he screamed at Brady.

“Matthew! Apologize to your brother!” Chantal called from the house, opening the screen door and stepping through into the backyard with Keith.

“But mom! He’s an idiot!”

“Matthew,” Keith’s voice bellowed. “Now.”

“Sorry,” Matthew grumbled. His parents always made the siblings do this stuff, ever since they were kids. “Can we just drop it all?” he asked.

“Nope. We’re all here now,” Brady said. “Who’s Effie?”

Matthew sighed heavily. “She’s a girl I met through my friend Levi at work.”

“What’s the big deal? Are you dating her?” Keith asked.

“No,” Matthew answered immediately, shaking his head. “No. We’re not dating. Not at all. She…” he began, trying to find the right words.

“She…” Brady egged on.

“She’s a bit…” Matthew began again. How was he going to tell them? How was he gonna word it? Should he sugar coat it or just come out and say it? “She’s a bit…different. She…she and Levi grew up in one of those, like, religious cults, out in rural Alberta. But a year and a half ago, she escaped, and she’s been trying to adjust to the real world ever since. I met her in January, at Noah’s birthday. And ever since, I’ve just been, like…helping her experience the normal world.”

The entire Tkachuk family was silent as they processed the information. They were definitely expecting a much different explanation from Matthew, that was for sure. “A religious cult, Matthew?” Chantal was the first to speak. Matthew nodded his head. Chantal grew serious. “Was she abused?”

Matthew hesitated, but he eventually nodded his head. It wasn’t his business to tell – he knew that – but he couldn’t lie to his own mother. “She could only wear dresses. She had to read the Bible all day. She was married at fourteen to the leader of the cult who was 55. That sort of thing,” he explained briefly, not wanting to give any more details.

Chantal looked concerned. Keith looked at his wife before looking back at his son. “So you’re not dating her, but you’re helping her learn about the real world,” Keith clarified. Matthew nodded again. Keith looked at Brady. “Then that’s none of our business! What’s the big deal?” he huffed.

“It’s not—”

“Why’re you busting his balls then?”

“Keith!” Chantal chastised.

***

Hi Matthew,

I still can’t believe you got me the stand mixer. I love it so much. It’s the only thing that I have out on my countertop because there’s no reason to hide it. And the pistachio colour is sooooooo beautiful. I promise that as a token of appreciation, I’m going to bake you whatever sweets you want when you get back to Calgary. Seriously. Anything you want. Even if I haven’t made it before. And I’ll make ice cream too!

I have been taking some walks around Calgary in my spare time. It’s a really beautiful city. Sometimes I will do my walks at night and see all the young people out at restaurants and bars and all the light are lit up downtown, and it’s even more beautiful. It’s so nice to see life in people. Everybody in the cult was so miserable. Maybe I’m just saying that because I was so miserable, but that’s how I remember it. Nobody was happy about life. Well, they weren’t happy about life like the people in downtown Calgary are on a Friday or Saturday night.

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

Calgary is definitely a beautiful city, and I’m happy that you’re starting to see that. Wait until you see even more of the country and the world one day! All of those young people that you see out and about are your age. I know you are probably very nervous to make new friends, but if you ever want to go out to one of those places, I’m sure Levi or Jenna would take you. When the team gets back into the city, I know any of the guys would take you too, just like when we went out for Andrew’s birthday. You just let us know when. And I apologize in advance for Noah’s behaviour.

I’m going to put in a request for snickerdoodles. My mom used to make them a lot growing up, but she doesn’t make them as much now because then I’d eat them all and get too pudgy.

Hi Matthew,

Snickerdoodles it is. I will perfect the recipe before you come back.

On top of movies, I’ve also been listening to music. Levi lets me use his Spotify. He also told me what an iPod is…was. Have you heard of Adele? She’s amazing! I love her voice. Most of the time I just let Spotify recommend me things and I end up liking them, but Levi introduced me to some bands too. Have you heard of Bruce Springsteen? Taylor Swift? The Tragically Hip? Red Hot Chili Peppers? They’re all so good. Red Hot Chili Peppers is Levi’s favourite band. I also really like listening to Coldplay. I think they’re my favourite out of all of them. But I also like dancing songs, like the songs that have a good beat. I wasn’t allowed to dance before (it was too sensual and would tempt the men) so now I feel like I should let it all out.

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

Dance your heart out Effie. Fuck them.

Fuck them.

***

Matthew was antsy. Antsy. The second the plane landed in Calgary, his leg was bobbing up and down to get off the plane, grab his bags, and go straight to Effie’s apartment.

It was the first time since he had lived in Calgary that he wanted to go anywhere but his apartment after a flight back to the city. But Effie had that effect on him these days. He hadn’t seen her in three months – almost four. And he was dying to. FaceTimes and Instagram-messages-formatted-as-emails could only do so much, and satisfy so much in his mind. He needed to see her, physically see her. He didn’t know what had happened to him in the past few months, especially since he and Effie had left on such a good note. No need to rush things. Take the time. But this entire summer, all Matthew could think about was her. All he dreamt about was her. He wondered if it was the same for her too. And he wondered, if it was, if she would admit it.

Once he got his bags from baggage claim, he hightailed it out of the airport and got into a taxi. He gave the driver Effie’s address, and within half an hour, he found himself with his suitcases at the foot of her apartment.

Okay, so maybe he didn’t think this through.

He hauled both of his suitcases up the staircase, most definitely putting chips in the wood steps along the way. It reminded him of moving her in to the place months ago, with him yelling at Sean for half of the day but ending with a slice of pie and his first kiss from Effie. He didn’t know what to expect now, but he knew that whatever he’d get, he’d be happy with. He knocked on her door and waited.

When Effie opened it, she looked confused because she wasn’t expecting anybody. But the second she saw Matthew’s face, her face lit up like a night show of fireworks. “Matthew!” she squealed, jumping on him and wrapping her arms tightly around his broad shoulders as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “What are you doing here?! You weren’t supposed to be back in Calgary for a few days!” the shock was still evident in her voice.

“Just thought I’d take an earlier flight out,” he said casually. “Gonna need to customize to the time change anyway.”

As if an hour was going to be a big shock to his system.

When Effie pulled away, she still kept her hands on his shoulders and he kept his hands at her waist. She’d gained more weight throughout the summer, thankfully, and filled out more. The pair of jeans she was wearing actually fit. The top she was wearing actually fit too – a simple navy-striped long sleeve. He was happy to see that. She’d been so frail when he met her in January. She looked like she had life in her now. “Have you even gone home?” she asked, looking down at his suitcases behind him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Uh…no,” he said awkwardly. “Can I bring them in? I just wanted to see you.”

Effie couldn’t help but gulp at his words. “I just wanted to see you.” Nobody had ever said those words to her before – not even her own mother, she thought. Nobody was ever happy to see her in the cult. But in the real world, Matthew was. “Yeah, come in,” she said, moving to remove her hands from his shoulders to give him more space to haul his suitcases into her entrance. He closed the door behind him when he was done, and that’s when the reality snapped back into Effie’s mind. “Oh no!” she exclaimed worriedly.

Matthew automatically got worried too. “Oh no what?”

“You came home early and I—I didn’t make your snickerdoodles!”

A smile automatically appeared on his face. “Effie, it’s okay,” he said softly, slipping off his shoes. “It’s not like I told you I was coming back to Calgary.”

The worried look didn’t leave her face. “Are you sure? I—I didn’t mean to forget. I actually made one batch but I thought they could be better for you so I was going to make another and—”

“Effie,” he said sternly, placing a hand over hers, which had bunched together nervously. “It’s alright. It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” she asked one more time.

“I’m positive,” he squeezed her hands gently. “Just gives me another excuse to come over again in a few days, really.”

A small smile crept on Effie’s face as she realized Matthew wasn’t angry. Usually, when something like this happened, the outcome was much different. She didn’t have to worry about that anymore. “Well come in then, come in,” she said, moving further into her apartment so Matthew could follow her. “D’you want something to drink?” she asked, already opening up her fridge.

“Tell me what you’ve been learning in school,” Matthew said instead, leaning against it. “I want to hear everything I missed.”

Effie couldn’t stop talking after that. They had managed to migrate to her couch and she told him about her courses and teachers and homework and assignments and textbooks and her new computer and the classroom and the building and the campus and the Starbucks on campus and the cafeteria she’d eat in and the vending machine she’d buy snacks from and the bench she’d sit on waiting for class and everything. Everything. There was nothing she didn’t talk about. And he listened to it all, listened to all of it intently, not interrupting once, asking follow-up questions and asking her for more more more more more. He couldn’t get enough. He forgot about his water. He forgot about the homemade Rice Krispie she gave him on a plate on her coffee table. He forgot that he was going to suggest they go out to a Starbucks. He forgot that he hadn’t seen her in months and was so desperate to see her that he came here before he even went to his own apartment. All he could think about was here, and all he could pay attention to was what she was saying.

He wanted it like this all the time.

“How’s therapy going?” he asked, finally remembering his water and taking a quick sip from his glass.

“I’m seeing a sex therapist now too.”

That was a bombshell. Matthew tried not to make it show that he was shocked at the news, but she’d said it so casually – like everyone saw a sex therapist. And, like, a therapist was one thing, but a sex therapist was another. He understood why she’d need one, but it was still a shock to him. “Oh yeah?” he tried to say casually.

Effie nodded her head. “I told Dr. Barlow how we’d been kissing,” she said, biting her lip and blushing slightly. “And, um…well, I told her some other things, so she suggested I see the sex therapist to help fix them.”

Fix them? Matthew had no idea what she meant. He moved slightly closer to her on the couch as he furrowed his brows. “What else did you tell her?” he asked softly. Effie averted his gaze, looking away as if she were embarrassed. “Effie, come on, you can tell me,” he urged.

“Well…when we—do you promise not to freak out at me?”

His heart ached. “Of course.”

“When we started kissing—well, when I started kissing you…I liked it a lot,” she said.

“We were kissing each other,” he said, correcting her, because he knew language was important and the way things were phrased was important and he wanted her to know he was 100% in on it too. He wasn’t exactly innocent. He was a willing accomplice. “I was kissing you too. I liked it a lot too.”

Effie nodded her head. “Well…I liked it a lot. But then we had that talk and you left for St. Louis and we were in a good place. Dr. Barlow told me that was very mature of me, and that she was very impressed. But then…”

“But then…”

Effie kept averting his gaze. “Um…but then, well, you weren’t here, and I started to have dreams of us kissing. I’d lean into you and close my eyes and kiss you. And your lips were soft like I remembered. But then it would change. Quickly. And it would hurt. It—it would hurt. And I’d open my eyes and instead of you, it was…Abraham. And I’d get so scared. I’d wake up screaming.”

Matthew’s heart fell in the pit of his stomach. He felt like he was going to be sick. “I made you feel that way?”

“No! No you didn’t,” she shook her head vehemently. “It was only when you left. When you’re—Matthew, no,” her words were jumbled because she had started crying. “When we kissed, I liked it. I liked it so much. But my mind was playing tricks on me.”

“Effie, if I hurt you—”

“You didn’t. You didn’t hurt me at all,” she pressed, her hand extending automatically to grab at his forearm comfortingly. “You could never hurt me Matthew. Ever. I just…” her voice had gotten softer, frailer, more like it had been in January. “I still see him sometimes.”

If Matthew’s heart had fallen into the pit of his stomach before, then now it had just shattered into a billion pieces. “Oh, Effie…” he barely got out.

“I don’t want to see him ever again,” she said.

“C’mere,” he said softly, pulling her body towards his so he could hug her. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and could feel Effie melt into him, her head cradled on his chest. He wanted her to feel as safe as possible with him – he’d wanted that since the beginning. With this new revelation, he now wanted it more than ever. “You’ll never see him again, Effie. I promise you.”

“I know I won’t. I know. This is happening because of what happened to me.”

“When he would hurt you.”

Effie looked up at him, nodding, almost embarrassingly. “I know that he can’t hurt me anymore. But my dreams would take me back to when he did. It wasn’t you, Matthew. You didn’t make me feel that way. I told Dr. Barlow and Dr. Stevenson that. They’re just trying to help me not see him anymore, and move past the things that he did to me. And they’re…they’re trying not to make me feel guilty about something so simple like kissing.”

“You felt guilty about us kissing?” he asked.

“Women couldn’t date, right? So it wasn’t like I was kissing any of the other boys in the cult. We were harlots and sinners if we kissed men, and we were responsible for them straying away from God. My first kiss was on my fake wedding day.”

Matthew could kill them all. He had half the heart to jump into his car and drive to Sheerness so that he could. “I will give you as many kisses as you want if it helps you forget,” he blurted out.

Effie couldn’t help but smile. “Can we start again now? Slowly?”

Matthew smiled slightly. She craned her head up and placed one of her signature chaste kisses on his lips, and he reciprocated readily, the feeling of her lips on his after months of not having them there ranking up there with the best feeling in the world. When she pulled away, her eyes were still closed, but there was a smile on her face. Her prior tears had stained her cheeks. “Hugging you feels nice too,” Effie said, finally opening her eyes.

Matthew smiled. “Well then we’ll start doing a lot of that too.”

***

At the beginning of every hockey season, right before training camp, the Calgary Flames hosted a gala to benefit the Calgary Flames Foundation. The team would set a fundraising goal for the night – often surpassed – and then set one for the season – also surpassed – to give back to the city and community that supported them endlessly, through thick and thin. The gala was unofficially the kickoff to the season. Every member of the team, coaching staff, and head office attended. It was one of Calgary’s biggest events. It was the one night of the year Matthew didn’t mind being out and having to small-talk with hundreds of strangers, because he knew it was all for a good cause and a greater good.

Matthew was forced to wear a tuxedo. All the members of the team were forced to wear tuxedos. He kept fiddling with his bowtie and Mark kept slapping his hand away. Matthew thought they all looked like penguins. He searched around the gala room, already filling up with people. He took his phone out of his pocket.

You guys here yet? he texted Geneviève, knowing that since Elias and Jacob were already here, she and Annica were coming together.

We’re in a taxi. Eyeliner needed to be reapplied because Effie kept crying.

Matthew chuckled to himself, picturing the image of Effie sitting in a chair while Annica and Geneviève fussed over her makeup. Before he could text her back, another text from her came through.

She looks beautiful, by the way.

Matthew was impatient. He kept looking towards the doors even though he was supposed to be pretending to be interested in what these rich people had to say. Levi and Jenna were already there, too, so it really was just him waiting for Effie to arrive. This entire night didn’t start until Effie arrived.

Matthew was in a conversation with someone when he saw her walk through the doors. Annica was wearing a navy blue bodycon dress that showed off her curves, and she looked great. Geneviève was wearing an emerald green midi-length dress with a high slit, high collar, back cut-out, and cap sleeves, and she looked impeccably chic and stylish, like only Geneviève could.

But it was Effie, of course, who looked the best. A bright red dress that fell to her knees, with floral lace and sequins and cape sleeves that covered her otherwise bare arms. She wore a pair of low nude heels, and her blonde bob was styled professionally as a barely-there curl. She looked impeccable. Beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous. Divine. Exquisite.

“Excuse me,” he said quickly to the man and wife he was talking to, and left Elias alone with them as he made his way through the crowd and towards Effie, Annica, and Geneviève. He pushed past some people gently before finally appearing in front of them. He could see Geneviève smirking the second they saw him, but he locked eyes with Effie. When she saw him in his tux, her breath hitched in her throat. He looked good. “Hi,” he said to Effie breathlessly.

Annica saw the look in his eyes and knew she had to skedaddle out of there. “Where’s Elias?”

“Over there,” Matthew pointed behind him, somewhere in the crowd of four hundred people, as if that answered the question and helped her.

“Thanks,” she left, winking at him as she passed him.

Geneviève was next. “I guess my husband is in the same place?” she asked him.

“Mhm,” he nodded his head quickly.

“Great. You two behave. If I don’t see you, I’ll assume you’re in a broom closet,” she said before disappearing into the crowd of people.

Matthew and Effie hadn’t taken their eyes off each other. Effie thought he looked great in his tux; it was tailored to perfection, and really showed off how thick his body was, but in a good way. She’d felt it when they hugged when he showed up to her place after landing in Calgary, and if she was being honest with herself, she had been thinking about it ever since. She kept thinking about being physical with him, about touching him and hugging and cuddling and doing all the things she couldn’t have done with another man before. And she only wanted to do them with Matthew. Her mind – and now increasingly her body – wanted to do that only with Matthew. With the dress and the makeup and the whole look all together, Matthew was a man possessed. With Geneviève and Annica gone, Matthew couldn’t help but bite his bottom lip to suppress himself from smiling bashfully, like he usually did with Effie. “You look beautiful, Effie,” he said softly.

“Thanks,” she smiled. “This is the second dress I’ve ever worn that has shown off my legs. It’s Geneviève’s. And – if you can believe it – this is the first time I’ve word something red.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. From her hair to her makeup to her dress to her shoes, he just couldn’t fucking take it anymore. He looked around the room quickly before grabbing her hand. “Come with me,” he mumbled.

“Where are we going?”

He dragged her out of the room and into the foyer. There were more people out there, sipping on cocktails and eating hors d’oeuvres and getting checked in, so he kept walking with her behind him down the long foyer that connected all the different hall rooms in the complex together. When it got quieter, and the rush of people were too far away, he led her into a short corridor where a men’s and women’s washroom was. They were far enough away that he knew no-one from the gala would find them.

“Matthew? Is everything okay?” she asked as she watched him close the door behind them.

“Everything’s fine,” he said, his voice strained. “I just…God, Effie, you look so fucking beautiful.”

Effie could pick up on the strain in his voice. She could also see the fire in his eyes as he looked down at her. She didn’t know much about the world, and she knew even less about men, but those things alone were telling her something. Her body was telling her something too, something she’d never heard from it before. Instead of being repulsed by the body in front of her, she was drawn to it. Instead of being scared to touch it, she wanted to feel it all over her. Instead of allowing her mind to take her somewhere else so she didn’t have to focus on pain on hurt or anything else, she wanted to be in the moment and feel everything. “Kiss me, Matthew,” she said. She’d never been so bold in her entire life. She didn’t think she had it in her.

Matthew didn’t need to be told twice. He held her face between his hands, dipped his head, and began kissing her passionately. Effie loved it. It wasn’t a chaste kiss like the kisses they had shared in the past. This kiss was hungry, and told her almost everything she needed to know about Matthew’s feelings.

Her feelings were similar. She wanted to explore them. She wanted to do more.

That was why, when it was Effie who slid her tongue along Matthew’s lips, he stopped in shock. Not that he wanted to – the action was just surprising. He pulled away slightly, making sure it was something she wanted to do. When he saw her open her eyes slowly, she was bringing her hands up, placing them over his. “You can touch me, Matthew,” her voice was barely above a whisper.

He let out a shaky breath. He knew they weren’t exactly gonna hook up in the bathroom or anything, but this was still huge, especially for Effie. “Are you sure?” he asked.

She nodded her head. “You won’t hurt me.”

He dipped down and kissed her again. And he kept kissing her, letting his hands wander to her waist and hips, where he gripped them and pulled them closer to his body. And she kept kissing him, letting her hands wander down his chest and under his tuxedo jacket to his back, feeling the thickness of his body. And for at least a few minutes, they were in their own little world, kissing in the men’s bathroom of a banquet hall, hands all over each other as Matthew probably got lipstick all over his mouth.

Effie was loving it. The feeling of his soft lips on hers was unlike anything she’d ever felt, and his tongue in her mouth, tasting slightly of the alcohol he’d drunk before she got there, was intoxicating to say the least. She felt like it could go on forever. She was pretty sure she would let it go on forever if she could. She was happy, so happy that she was doing this – that she could do this. Two years ago, if she’d even thought about it, she would have been scared of being damned to hell for eternity. Now, she was enjoying it. Now, she wanted to do it all the time. Now, she could—

She could—

She—

Now, it hurt a little.

Now, the lips weren’t as soft.

Now, she could feel a prickly, unkept beard scraping at her skin—

“STOP,” she instinctively pushed the body away, scrunching her face and gulping hard. Before she could see Abraham’s face – before it could appear to her in her mind – she opened her eyes and looked at Matthew.

Matthew.

She saw him staring back at her worriedly and she let out a shaky breath. He knew why she stopped; he didn’t need to be told. “I’m—I’m so—”

“Hey hey, it’s okay,” he said soothingly. “It’s alright, Effie. We can stop.”

She diverted her eyes from looking at him. She was so embarrassed. “You won’t be mad?” she asked. That was usually how it went for, well…

Matthew put his hand under her chin so he could look her in the eye. “No,” he said, with as much conviction as he could muster. “We can stop whenever you want.”

“I’m so—”

“Do not apologize to me,” he said sternly. She didn’t need to. He needed her to know that. “Never apologize to me for that.”

She bit her bottom lip. “Thank you for stopping.”

“There’s no way in hell I’d keep going.”

Effie nodded. She understood. “At least I’m getting better,” she said. “I didn’t give you a black eye this time.”

Matthew couldn’t help but snort. It released all the tension in the air immediately; even Effie was giggling slightly. “That you did not,” he said, grabbing her hand slightly. “Wanna go back out there? Well, after we get all this lipstick off of me.”

***

The gala was nice. It was formal and the food was decent and even though Matthew basically kept his eye on Effie sitting with Levi and Jenna the entire night, it was nice. He had fun with his teammates. He embarrassed himself on stage for charity. At the silent auction, one of his packages with signed memorabilia went for the second-highest bid. He was proud of what he and the team were able to accomplish in terms of giving back to the community.

But now he had more important things on his mind.

By the time he found Effie again, she was standing in a group with Levi and Jenna, Jacob and Geneviève, and Annica and Elias. It looked like they were chatting about something exciting, so Matthew knew he needed to be there. When Geneviève saw him butt his way in, she smiled. “I was just reminiscing about when Jacob and I met, and how my friends and I went to the pubs in Oxford after our graduation in our robes and Tudor bonnets,” she said, filling him in. “There’s nothing better than showing up to a place severely overdressed and then having the time of your life dancing.”

Matthew looked at Geneviève in her dress. He looked at Annica in hers, and Effie in hers, and Jenna in hers. He looked to his teammates in his tuxedos, and to Levi wearing a form-fitted navy suit. “Wanna go dancing?”

Elias smirked. “The night’s still young.”

***

They ended up at a bar downtown, one that Matthew had been to before but couldn’t really remember exactly what happened (it was his first year in Calgary and he’d just found out hours before that the legal drinking age was only eighteen). The bouncer looked at them all weirdly in their getups but let them in anyway. It was only when they entered that they realized it was frosh week for the University of Calgary, and the bar was full of university students drinking and dancing. The floor was slightly sticky. It was the perfect venue for the goal they wanted to achieve.

“Oh, this takes me back,” Geneviève giggled, looking out at the sea of people. She looked at Annica and Jenna. “Spicy margs?”

Both women nodded. “Spicy margs.”

She looked at Effie. “Have you ever had alcohol?”

“No.”

“Do you want to try it while you’re safe with us?”

Effie nodded.

Geneviève, Effie, and Matthew headed to the bar while the rest of the group went to find a bar table to take over. Matthew made sure Effie got a spot right at the front as he stood directly behind her, his body pressed against hers. Geneviève waved down the bartenders and ordered all the drinks. All the university students clamouring to get a spot at the bar and the attention of the bartenders looked at them weird for their too-fancy clothes. Geneviève didn’t care – it wasn’t like this was her first time doing this. Effie was a little self-conscious, but that soon went away when she saw the drinks being made in front of her.

“Whenever you go out to a bar like this, you always want the bartender to make your drink in front of you. Don’t ever accept a drink from a stranger or if you haven’t seen it made in front of you,” Geneviève cautioned her.

“Okay,” Effie nodded. “What happens if I don’t like the spicy margarita though?”

“Then we’ll get you another drink.”

Once all the drinks were made, they were brought back to the bar table the rest of the group managed to find and everyone began drinking. Effie liked her spicy margarita. Matthew let her take a sip of his beer but she didn’t like that too much. She ordered another spicy margarita. Her body began to feel tingly because of the tequila. The music started to get progressively louder, too, the bass making the floor vibrate. Effie looked out onto the dance floor to see a bunch of people her age dancing – grinding, as Matthew called it at Andrew’s birthday many months ago. She watched them intently, while they were having the time of their lives.

“You okay?” Matthew asked, bending down to ask as she was looking out at the crowd.

“I want to dance but I don’t know how to,” she revealed. “I’m just…looking to see what everyone else is doing. I wouldn’t be comfortable with that grinding.”

Matthew couldn’t help but smile. “Nobody knows how to dance, Effie. We all just move our bodies to the beat of the music.”

The song changed suddenly and it made Geneviève scream at the top of her lungs in excitement. Effie watched as she grabbed her drink and Jacob’s hand and dragged him towards the dance floor as they began to dance together. Levi and Jenna followed, and so did Annica and Elias. The couples weren’t grinding like the university students, but instead danced facing each other, holding hands or swaying back and forth, holding their drinks it their hands and raising them up in the air, miraculously not spilling a thing. She and Matthew were the only ones left at the bar table. “This was their wedding song, I think,” Matthew explained, watching Effie watch Jacob and Geneviève dancing.

“What’s it called?”

“I Wanna Dance With Somebody by Whitney Houston.”

“Levi hasn’t introduced me to that one.”

“Levi isn’t the type to listen to Whitney Houston.”

Effie continued to watch them dance, Geneviève singing the lyrics to Jacob at the top of her lungs. They were so in love with each other, even she could see it, and she barely knew what healthy love was. A part of her wondered what made them love each other so much, and another part of her wondered if she should ask. Was it rude to ask something like that?

“D’you want to dance, Effie?” Matthew asked.

Effie looked up at him. “Do you think people will laugh at me because I don’t know how?”

He shook his head. “There’s so many people and they’re all so drunk, they won’t even notice you.”

She gripped her margarita tighter. There was something to be said about overcoming fears ever since she left the cult, and this could be classified as one of them. But she wasn’t like these university students who were moving their bodies so freely and easily. She was much more restrained – with everything really – but she wanted to actively work to move away from that. Conquer her fears. Do what she needed to do to shed herself from the past. So she nodded her head. “Let’s go.”

Matthew grabbed her hand and led her on to the dance floor, moving his body to the song with his beer still in his hand, doing his best not to spill it everywhere, but especially not on Effie wearing Geneviève’s expensive red dress. Effie watched, moving her feet back and forth awkwardly. She looked up at Matthew for reassurance, only to see him already smiling at her. “You got it, you got it,” he said, moving his feet in a similar way.

“What do I do with my hands?” she asked.

“Just throw ‘em up!” he showed her. She did the same movements, but she couldn’t step or move with the beat of the music. Matthew could tell she was nervous. “Just move your body, Effie. Move it however you want. Doesn’t need to be on beat.”

Effie closed her eyes, trying to get the feel of the song in her, but she lost her groove because it soon ended and another began. This one was even more upbeat – well, it had a better beat – and Effie began to move again.

Feel buried alive This city is airtight Suffocated and lonely in the crowd I'm surrounded by All the screens of their life Screaming in to space to drown them out

Effie not only began to move her feet and hands, but she tried swaying her hips a bit. She liked this beat. She loved this beat. She lost herself completely in it, dancing with no inhibitions. Matthew watched as she let loose, moving her body in tune with the music. Her dancing was unlike anyone else’s around her, and the only thing he wanted to was copy her. It looked a bit ridiculous, but it didn’t matter to Matthew. He’d made himself look more ridiculous than this before. This was nothing.

I felt down so low Found nowhere to go But I know you wait for me You wait for me So far out of sight Straight into the white But I know you wait for me I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight

Effie opened her eyes to see Matthew. Matthew, who would wait for her. Matthew, who had waited for her.

'Cause I've been hypnotized by the lights But I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight Yeah, it's taken time to realize But I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight

“Go Effie! Go Effie!” Annica chanted, coming up beside them with Elias, grooving to the beat of the music. Annica watched Effie moving and followed her movements too – albeit more fluidly – and when Effie looked up and saw Annica, a giant smile took over her face. Annica screamed in excitement and cheered their drinks together before moving with her, beside Matthew, letting him get closest to her.

So hold me tight I just wanna fade out Somewhere we can ship the world away I'm ready to hide Far from the fallout They won't find us in the paradise we'll make

“Woooooooo! You go girl! Get loose!” Geneviève screamed from her other side, approaching them with Jacob beside her who was doing a modified version of the robot. Matthew watched as Effie closed her eyes, going into her own little world, raising her arms and bopping her body to the music. It was the happiest and most carefree he’d ever seen her. He vowed right then and there to take her dancing whenever she wanted to go so she could feel this same way.

I felt down so low Found nowhere to go But I know you wait for me You wait for me So far out of sight Straight into the white But I know you wait for me I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight

Effie was feeling it. She loved it. She loved this. She loved the people she was surrounded by. If this was love, she wanted to feel it all the time.

'Cause I've been hypnotized by the lights But I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight Yeah, it's taken time to realize But I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight

When she opened her eyes again, she saw everyone dancing around her. She stepped closer to Matthew, almost so close that she could feel his body against hers. They moved together to the climax of the song, Matthew looking down at her and smiling.

Free falling from the high I'm following the voice I know Free falling from the high I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight

In his tuxedo and in her frilly red dress with cape sleeves, surrounded by people. it felt like they were the only ones in the world.

***

“I think I can live a normal life with him,” Effie told Dr. Barlow as she sat in her usual seat in the office, looking down at her hands. She’d already been talking for almost an hour during her session, but she felt the need to get that statement out. Dr. Barlow had the right to know.

“With Matthew?” Dr. Barlow clarified.

Effie nodded her head. Who else would she be talking about? “He’s never once made me feel uncomfortable or unsafe or…like…ashamed of what I went through,” she elaborated.

“That’s a very positive thing,” Dr. Barlow said, her voice steady. “It’s good that you’re thinking about these things, Effie. You’re thinking about your future. You actually see a future for yourself. But how normal do you think a friendship or perhaps even a life with a hockey player can be?” she asked.

Effie shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I barely understand hockey as it is.”

“Well, hockey players don’t exactly live the most conventional of lifestyles. They travel a lot, as I’m sure you know since Levi travels with the team.”

“Yeah…” Effie didn’t know where Dr. Barlow was going with this. “That’s…that’s not the biggest deal to me.”

Dr. Barlow nodded her head, writing something down on her pad of paper. “Have you continued to kiss him since he’s come back?” Effie nodded. “Regularly?”

“Semi-regularly.”

“Have you told Dr. Stevenson?” she asked. Effie nodded again. “Do you still envision Abraham sometimes?”

Effie hesitated before nodding her head. She knew she couldn’t lie. “It’s been getting better though. We kissed for a couple of minutes once before I, um, felt Abraham’s beard. And when he stopped, he didn’t get mad at all. I means it’s progress from when he brushed up against me in bed and I gave him a black eye,” she tried to joke.

Dr. Barlow apparently didn’t find it funny like Matthew had. She just nodded again and wrote on her note pad. “You should tell Dr. Stevenson about that.”

***

“I made another pint of maple pecan ice cream,” Effie told Levi as she handed him a Tupperware full of white chocolate macadamia nut cookies. They were mostly for Jenna – she was craving them. Jenna had been craving a lot of things lately, ever since Effie got her own mixer, anyway. Effie had been experimenting making ice cream. The café was pleased about this as well. The owner was already looking to invest in ice cream storage to be able to serve it. “I’ve found a real gem in you, Effie,” the owner would repeat over and over again to her. Matthew had to stop himself constantly from getting a third bowl on nights he’d come over. He’d tap at his stomach and say “I can’t” but when he’d go and put his bowl in the sink, she’d always see him hesitate before he did so. “Do you want it?”

“Please,” he begged his sister. She moved to open her freezer. “I swear Effie, the best thing Matthew’s ever done was get you that KitchenAid. I’ve been gaining weight ever since.”

Effie smiled. “At least you’re not the hockey player that has to stay in peak physical condition. Matthew’s been complaining that I’m making him pudgy.”

“Thank God.”

“Speaking of…” she began, handing him the pint of ice cream. “Do you think you can teach me about hockey?”

“You mean like the rules and stuff?”

“Yeah. You know, like what’s going on out there whenever I’m at games.”

“Okay,” he nodded, shrugging his shoulder slightly. “Any reason?”

“If I’m going to be surrounded by hockey because of you, then I should learn it, shouldn’t I?” Effie asked rhetorically.

“Sure,” he side-eyed his sister playfully. “But does this have anything to do with Matthew?”

“What if it does?”

Levi smiled. He knew there was something going on between the two of them, regardless of whether or not they wanted to tell him. He liked Matthew, he knew he was a good kid, so it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. She could have hooked up with someone way worse. Actually, she could have gone the opposite route of where she currently was (which many former cult members went), which was becoming a hypersexual after being sexually repressed for so many years. Effie was taking her time with it, and that was fine, but if her friendship…or relationship, or whatever she had going on with Matthew was any indication, Levi figured Effie was thinking about it. “I don’t care, Effie. It’s kind of cute, actually.”

“So you’ll teach me?”

“Of course. I’ll have you screaming at the referees in no time.”

***

“So Levi’s teaching me about hockey,” Effie said as she marinated chicken in her kitchen, her phone call with Matthew on speakerphone as she moved around and got her hands dirty.

“He is?”

“Mhm. By the time the home opener comes around, I’ll be able to understand what’s going on,” she revealed.

“I better get you a Tkachuk jersey then.”

Effie smiled bashfully, even though he couldn’t see it. “You don’t want me wearing a Markstrom one like last time?” she joked.

“Effie.”

***

Effie was nervous as she sat in Dr. Stevenson’s office. Not because she was scared, or because she wasn’t a good sex therapist, or because of anything like that. She was nervous to admit to her the thoughts she’d been having about Matthew, even though she knew Dr. Stevenson wouldn’t judge her at all and that it was his job to help her. Help her make peace with these thoughts; help her realize they were completely normal and okay; help her act on them, eventually, in a healthy way. Dr. Stevenson already knew about Matthew – she knew about him from Effie’s very first day.

“My mind may not be ready but my body is physically attracted to him. I don’t know how to…you know, mend the two so that both are on the same page,” Effie admitted after almost an hour. “I want to be with him. I do. I know he won’t hurt me – that he’d never hurt me.”

Dr. Stevenson nodded. “When you were in the People’s Dominion of Christ, there was a huge power imbalance between Abraham, being the prophet and leader, and the followers – you,” Dr. Stevenson began to explain. “This imbalance made it impossible for you to give true consent to sex.”

Effie’s body stiffened. Consent. Geneviève had taught her that term early on. Consent was giving permission for something to happen. Effie had never given her consent to marry Abraham. She’d never given Abraham consent to consummate their marriage. She’d never given Abraham consent to touch her, stroke her, do anything to her. She’d surely never given him consent to impregnate her. “Okay…that makes sense. But I didn’t know I had to give consent. I thought that men could do whatever they wanted with my body. Especially Abraham, since he was the prophet.”

“The institutionalized sexism in the cult is nothing I haven’t heard before. Many victims like yourself have said the exact same thing to me,” Dr. Stevenson said. “You are not alone. There are many people like you, unfortunately. When females are not equally valued because of misogyny, because of outdated traditional gender roles that are disempowering, it makes women like you experience sexual inequality and become more susceptible to leaders who will exploit you.”

“So how do I get it back?”

“Get what back?”

“My agency. My…my…” Effie began to tear up, thinking about all the things she had to endure at the hands of Abraham – literally and metaphorically. “How do I get my mind back? My body is finally mine, and I can do what I want with it, but I don’t feel like I have my mind back yet if I’m kissing Matthew but then all of a sudden I remember the feeling of Abraham’s beard or that I can’t sit or lie at the foot of a bed because that’s where…”

Dr. Stevenson took a deep breath. “One way to do so is to embrace, appreciate, and celebrate your sexual self. That is what I am trying to help you do here. You need to understand that your capacity for pleasure is not a luxury, and it is not shameful either. It is a necessity for a well-balanced and emotionally happy life. As a woman – as a survivor of sexual abuse, of rape – you should take a stand for your own sexual healing and embrace sexual pleasure as something that will help heal you.”

Effie nodded her head, more tears escaping her now, but she understood. She knew what she needed to do, and the mental shift she needed to go through. Touching could be pleasurable for the woman. Sex could be pleasurable for the woman. Not everything had to hurt. Not everything had to come with pain.

“I’m not saying this is going to happen tomorrow for you, Effie,” Dr. Stevenson continued. “I’m not saying it’ll happen next month, or year. It happens quickly for some, and for others it can take years. Everybody has their own timeline – you included. You have to remember that your trauma comes with complex PTSD. If you set goals for yourself, like you already have been doing, with a person you are comfortable with – Matthew – your sexual self will grow with your physical self and your mental self. When those three parts of you are aligned, they will all grow stronger, and make you stronger.”

Effie kept nodding. The words were permeating through her like lightning. “I’m going to try. I’m really going to try.”

“Just stop when you need to stop. Go when you want to go. You’ll get there, Effie.”

***

“Did you learn about gay people in the cult?” Matthew asked as he prepared Brokeback Mountain on the TV while Effie finished pouring the popcorn into the bowl.

“Not in a good way, if that’s what you’re really asking,” she said from the kitchen. “You know the stupid Bible verse. The prophet called it an abomination. But it was one of the first things that Levi and Jenna taught out of me when I first went to live with them, because Jenna’s brother is gay and has a husband and two kids. Levi didn’t want me to be shocked if I ever saw them.”

Matthew didn’t know that about Jenna. But he nodded his head and watched Effie bring the bowl of popcorn over. “Have you met them?”

Effie nodded. “They came over a few months after I arrived. They were so incredibly kind,” she explained. She handed the popcorn bowl to Matthew to take before folding her leg and collapsing onto the couch beside him, facing him. “It really…it really messed with me. I mean, it’s not like I wanted to think that way. It was what I was conditioned to think. I didn’t know better. And I felt so bad, because I knew they knew, but they were so understanding. From the moment they walked through the door they were so nice and they didn’t hold it against me,” she explained.

Matthew could only listen. And though he listened through her entire explanation, he was hung up on one thing. “You should stop calling him the prophet,” he said suddenly, not really thinking it through but needing to get it out. “He wasn’t a prophet. He wasn’t even your husband. He was just some guy.”

Effie looked stunned by what he was saying. She’d never considered that before. She was so used to calling him the prophet that the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind – ever. “You’re right,” she said, unable to say anything else. It was such a simple sentiment but it held so much power. “I…you’re right, Matthew.”

He smiled slightly. “Wanna start the movie?”

Effie nodded. Matthew extended his arm to move the bowl to the side, and his other arm moved upwards slightly, signalling to Effie that it was already to cuddle. She moved closer to him, snuggling into his side and letting both legs drape over his thigh. Only then did he let his arm down, draping it over her back. Effie looked up at him. “Is that okay?” she asked.

“It’s perfect,” he whispered, placing the bowl of popcorn between their bodies so they had equal access to it. “You comfortable?”

“Mhm.”

“Effie, are you comfortable?” he repeated.

She knew why he was repeating himself. She looked up at him and smiled. “The comfiest I’ve ever been.”

Matthew pressed play. From that moment, Effie’s eyes were glued to the screen, hooked on the love story unfolding in front of her. For Matthew, he was more hooked on watching her than the movie, but he kept up slightly. At some point during the movie – Matthew didn’t pay attention when – Effie’s hand settled on his abs, and it was all he could think about for the rest of the night. He was acutely aware of its placement. Then, the sadder scenes started happening, and he’d feel the hand grip his t-shirt, and his body would seize up. She’d soften it, but then grip again when something emotional would happen. Then the scene where Ennis visits Jack’s parents after his death occurred, and Ennis was let into Jack’s childhood bedroom and found his old shirt. Matthew watched as Ennis smelled it and clutched it against his chest.

Then he heard Effie let out a sob.

She gripped him tighter than she ever had. He tightened his hold on her too, shifting slightly and letting his shirt ride up against the couch, just so she could cuddle into him even more than she already was. He could feel her hand on his skin now, gripping at his side tenderly as the tears still rolled down her face. He took the opportunity to place his hand in the small sliver of space where her shirt had ridden up too, squeezing and massaging it gently to comfort her. “Y’okay?” his voice was barely above a whisper.

She didn’t respond. Her eyes were glued to the TV. As the movie continued, Matthew left his hand exactly where it was, and Effie left her hand exactly where it was. Holding each other. Clutching each other.

When the movie ended, Effie didn’t move for a long time. Not even when the credits began rolling on the screen. “Are you okay, Effie?” Matthew repeated his question from earlier, albeit a bit louder and more pronounced this time.

“I think my heart is broken,” she finally let out, bringing the hand that was squeezing his side to her face so she could wipe her tears away. “That was beautiful. Beautiful.”

“It was,” Matthew agreed. It was very obvious the movie was affecting her a lot.

Effie moved so she could look up at Matthew, craning her head and bringing her hand up to cradle his face so she could kiss him. When their lips connected, Matthew could feel the wetness of her cheeks. “I can’t believe I was ever scared of that,” she whispered against his lips when she pulled away.

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is what you think now.”

Effie nodded. He always knew the right things to say. He was helping her change her past and way of thinking one way or another. “I think I want to kiss you again.”

Matthew kissed her. And even as the credits finished, neither of them would let go of the other.

***

The Calgary Flames home opener at the Saddledome had Effie buzzing with excitement. She wore a brand new pair of jeans for the occasion, and arrived at the game with Jenna, Annica, and Geneviève. As was normal for them, Annica was wearing her tried and true Lindholm jersey, while Geneviève was sporting a Markstrom one. Jenna wore Levi’s old Iginla jersey.

Effie had Tkachuk sprawled across her back.

“Do you want to go down near the ice and wave?” Annica asked, and Effie nodded her head. “It might get a big crowded, so stay near me.”

The ladies descended down the steps, joining the pretty big crowd that had formed against the glass beside Jacob’s net. A bunch of kids were up against the glass with homemade signs, their parents near them taking pictures. Some men around Effie’s age were there too, drinking beers with their jerseys on and taking videos on their phones. Other girls her age were there too, taking pictures of all the players. “Can you see Matthew?” Geneviève asked as she looked down at Effie.

“He’s over there,” she smiled, pointing at Matthew across the ice. He was practicing his stickhandling, in such deep concentration that he didn’t look up for a while. When he finally did look up, happy with his stickhandling, he began skating around the ice, bumping into Noah and Andrew along the way.

Effie waved excitedly.

Matthew stopped when he saw her. Even though there was glass streaked with puck shots and some distance between them, she could see him smile from ear to ear, his mouth guard hanging out. He waved back, his hockey glove looking like a giant bear claw.

“God you two are insufferable,” Geneviève said jokingly.

Matthew continued to skate around, shooting the puck at the net, each of them going in. Geneviève noticed all of his glances back at them, and the small smile constantly on his face as he went about his drills. When the practice was almost over, she kept an eye intently on him, watching as he skated over. She knew what he wanted to go. “Go closer,” she said to Effie, urging her with a little nudge.

Effie took her cue and stepped down, closer to the glass. Matthew had flipped a puck over the glass towards a kid with a sign for him. Now, as Effie watched, he pointed to her and made sure everyone around knew who he was pointing to. She turned around slightly, pointing to his name on her back. He smiled wide and flipped another puck, perfectly, right into her hands.

Geneviève watched as the young women around them eyed Effie suspiciously.

***

“Matthew!” Effie squealed once he finally emerged from the locker room, his suit back on and his tie tied loosely around his neck. She hugged him excitedly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he reciprocated. “Great game!”

“Thanks, Effie.”

“And your goal!” she continued. Now that she actually understood hockey, and now that she wasn’t scared about every little thing around her at the arena, she could actually enjoy the experience and know what was going on. “What a great goal!”

He had the puck in his pocket, and had planned to give it to her, but right now his mind was elsewhere. Seeing her in his jersey at the beginning of the game did things to him, and although he was able to focus throughout the sixty minutes, now that he saw her again with his name sprawled across her back, his mind was right where it was the moment he first saw her that night. “Wanna come over mine and watch a movie?” he asked, his voice low so no-one else would hear.

To his complete surprise, Effie nodded her head immediately. “Of course.”

They left inconspicuously without saying goodbye to anyone.

***

Effie broke down during the first scene.

Matthew had changed out of his suit and into a sweater and track pants, and Effie had taken off the jersey and hung it up in his front closet. They cuddled on the couch together, exactly as they’d done when they watched Brokeback Mountain, and Matthew pressed play on Netflix. The first scene was the main character, Esty, packing up her most valuable belongings, including a small picture of her grandmother, and running away from her Hasidic community. All before the opening credits. When the show’s opening played, he heard Effie let out a loud sob.

“Hey hey hey,” he cooed, watching as she brought her hand up to cover her mouth to try and control herself, but there was no use. Tears were streaming down her face. “It’s alright, it’s alright.”

“It’s me,” she said softly, through tears. “It’s me.”

“C’mere,” he said, pulling her even closer against his body, if that was possible. Every inch of her was touching him now, with his arms wrapped tightly around her, and he hoped that brought her at least some reprieve. She was wiping her face with her hands, and he could see her chest heaving, though he could tell she was taking deep breaths to calm herself down. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. “We can stop it or watch so—”

“No,” she interjected sternly, looking up at him. “I can do this.”

“I know you can Effie, but—”

“No buts. I can watch this,” she was adamant.

Matthew lost. He knew he would. He bit his bottom lip and nodded his head. “Will you promise to tell me if it becomes too much?”

Effie nodded. She snuck her hand underneath his sweater to feel his skin again, and she – surprisingly – game him a quick peck before laying her head on his chest again. “Press play.”

Matthew kissed her forehead, then the crown of her head, then laid his cheek there before pressing play.

Effie broke down again less than ten minutes later, when the grandmother was listening to an old German song, An Die Musik sung by Elisabeth Scwartzkopf. And again, when Yanky was searching her childhood bedroom and found her personal items and her music. The last scene she cried to was near the end, when Esty’s biological mother showed up and gave her documents to prove German citizenship “just in case you need somewhere else to go”. When the episode ended, Effie was shedding her last tears. Matthew paused Netflix before the episode could switch over. “You okay?”

Effie nodded, despite her tears. “I know it’s different religions, but a lot of things were just, like, so similar,” she explained. “The…the beginning brought me back.”

“I can only imagine,” Matthew whispered.

“The grandmother crying listening to that beautiful song. Esty’s music. Her mom still looking out for her despite abandoning her. It all just…it all just really hit home.” Matthew nodded. It was the only thing he could do. If Effie wanted to elaborate, she could, but he wasn’t going to force her. Instead, he shifted her body so she was sitting more in his lap as opposed to right beside him. She steadied her breathing, and her tears had stopped. “When I went to live with the proph—Abraham, as his wife,” she began, “he made me leave everything at home besides my clothes. I couldn’t see my favourite things unless I was visiting, and even then, I’d never be alone in my room for more than two minutes because he knew I’d be reminiscing, and he said it was a sin to dwell on my past life when I should have been looking forward to my future as his wife and as a mother to his son of God.” She paused, biting her bottom lip; Matthew could tell she was remembering it all vividly in her mind. “After a year my mom threw out all my things anyway. Because she agreed with him.”

“What did you have? What were your things?” he asked, sad and angry and disturbed all at once.

“Just simple things. Nothing special,” she said. “My…my own Bible that I’d been using since I was a kid. A journal I had where I recorded my favourite verses. A doll I had when I was a kid that another member made for me. Just stupid things.”

“They’re not stupid things if they were special for you,” Matthew said. “I can’t believe your mom threw them all out. My mom has kept my kindergarten paintings.”

Effie smiled slightly. “That’s because you have a good mom who knows how to be a mother.”

Matthew digressed. Effie obviously hadn’t meant Chantal yet, but Matthew talked about her enough that Effie knew a lot about her. “I know I keep saying this, but you’re so strong, Effie.”

“It’s a lot to overcome,” she whispered, nodding her head. They sat for a while in comfortable silence, just being with each other. Matthew’s arms were still wrapped around her. Effie was still in hip lap, looking at him. “Will you kiss me, Matthew?”

Matthew smiled slightly before dipping his head down and capturing her lips in a kiss. It wasn’t long before – once again – Effie took the initiative to slip her tongue into his mouth. There was kissing – so much kissing – and Matthew took it upon himself to start to lay Effie down on the couch, his body looming over hers slightly and—

“Stop,” Effie said, her hands on his chest, pushing him off her slightly. Matthew immediately stopped and moved away from her. Her chest heaved up and down once before she pushed herself up. “I’m sorry.”

“Never apologize,” he said. “Did you see him again?”

Effie didn’t answer. “I think it happened because we laid down,” she said, her lips puffy from all the kissing.

Matthew was catching his breath. He was thankful that he was wearing track pants or else Effie would see how…excited he’d become. “How about you stay on top then?”

She furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”

“We—we can stay upright,” Matthew explained. “You can sit on my lap if you want…facing me. Or you could just…you know, like, sit…” he was losing his words.

Effie looked confused. Nervous. Like she didn’t know what to think. Like she was picturing the scenario in her head and couldn’t really make sense of any of it. “W—Women are allowed to do that?” she asked softly. Matthew couldn’t speak; he could only stare at her flabbergasted. He nodded his head slightly, and Effie thought about it. How women could be ‘on top’. What that would look like. What that would entail. “C…Can you—can you show…” she was too embarrassed to even be asking.

“C’mere,” he said, extending his hand. She put her hand in his and he pulled her towards him. “Put your one leg over here,” he said, patting to the space on the other side of him. She did so slowly. “And your other leg goes here,” he explained, and she did the same movement, “and now you can just sit on my lap.”

Effie took a deep breath as she lowered herself down until she could feel his thighs as her seat. Both she and Matthew had barely blinked the entire time during his simple act of showing her how to straddle him, but she had never done it before (and it wasn’t like she would have been allowed to), and so everything about it was new to her. Now, she was face-to-face with him, her hands resting on his chest, his hands resting near the bend in her knees. “This is new,” she said.

“Are you comfy?” he asked. She nodded. “D’you like it?” he asked again.

“It’ll take some getting used to,” she admitted. “But I can see it being nice.”

Being nice. Matthew couldn’t help but grin. “It’ll be nice. Trust me.”

Effie nodded. She did trust Matthew. So when she went in to continue their kisses, it was nice, and it was beautiful, and it wasn’t so bad anymore. Which is why, when Matthew’s hands moved from her knees up her thighs, it was okay. When his hands squeezed at her flesh through her pants before going higher, it was okay. When his hands moved to her hips and pulled her even closer, it was okay.

It was okay.

298 notes · View notes

yamalegacy · 4 years ago

Note

prompt eleven with mirko 😳

i've already done 11 with midnight but idc, i love buff bunny too much not to do it! and well, considering how it aligns with the godly possessive!rumi hcs, it's way too tempting anyway! so here goes!

prompt: #11 from this list “I bet you think you’re real cute letting them put their hands all over you. We’ll see how cute you look later when I get you home.”

pairing: mirko (usagiyama rumi) x gn!reader

cw: SMUT. afab reader. rumi is a possessive bunny. brat!reader. dom/sub dynamic. hair pulling, spanking, dirty talking, slight degradation & praise kink (yes, both at the same time, don’t underestimate rumi), fingering, strapon, slight anal fingering. oh boy this really is the filthiest thing i’ve written in a loooong time.

word count: about 3,7k words WOPS I GOT CARRIED AWAY

⚠️ MDNI reminder for minors to not interact with this post ⚠️

Your phone buzzes exactly seven minutes after you started a conversation with Keigo— he insists you call him Keigo, because Hawks is too professional and Takami is too formal, his own words. Seven whole minutes (yes, you’ve been keeping an eye on the time during the whole conversation). It’s over six minutes later than you’d expected, really. It buzzes again almost immediately, and you make a point to ignore your phone for a bit as you glance at Rumi, on the other side of the bar, over the rim of your glass.

When she arcs an eyebrow at you, visibly losing her patience, you give all your attention to Keigo again and offer him a smile before pulling your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans to check the messages you’ve no doubt received from the Rabbit Hero.

fluffy butt 🐇🤍

i bet you think you’re real cute letting him put his hands all over you we’ll see how cute you look later when i get you home

It’s almost disappointing how predictable she is with these things. Almost. Rumi is way too hot when she gets jealous for it to actually be disappointing. You want to remind her that she is the one who invited you to that bar and who left you alone to get drinks, that she is the one who got distracted by a conversation with Ryukyu, but you decide to leave her on read and see what happens.

From where you stand, you can see Rumi’s internal struggle not to just abruptly cut Ryukyu in the middle of what she is saying so that she can get right between you and Keigo. It’s quite the amusing sight, from her flattened ears to her thumping foot, her attitude reeks of frustration. You can’t help but wonder what will tick her off so much that she will intervene — Keigo has only touched you shoulder and given your arm a light squeeze and Rumi is already seething, so it seems likely just about anything would set her off.

“I can hear her thump from here,” Keigo comments, a lazy smile adorning his lips. “I’m surprised she hasn’t tried to murder me yet.”

You chuckle at his words.

“I think she’s trying to see whether or not looks can kill.”

He leans closer to you (and you know it’s much too closer to Rumi’s standards because you can smell the minty alcohol on his breath), “I sure hope looks can kill. It’d be a lot less painful than her foot up my— well, wherever she fancies shoving it, I guess.”

You don’t even have time to give him a reaction that you can hear heavy footsteps approaching, so you lean away from Keigo just enough to properly look at your girlfriend as she marches over to you. It’s only now that she is right here that you notice she’s opened her leather jacket, revealing one of her favorite crop tops — black, sinfully tight and exposing just the right amount of cleavage and abs to make your mouth water.

God, her skin always looks so tempting, you want to reach out, to put a hand on her waist, under her jacket, but she grabs you by the wrist before you can even try to move a muscle. Her eyes are fixed on you, and, to your surprise, she doesn’t even acknowledge Keigo.

“We’re leaving,” she says, her tone stern.

“Rumi... it’d be rude to leave so early,” you tell her, smiling at her with all the innocence you can muster (enough to fool anyone who doesn’t know you well), “and you are the one who wanted us to come here in the first pl—”

“We’re leaving. I remembered I have something to do.”

You want to push, to tease, to see how far she’ll go, so even if her tone leaves no room for argument, you open your mouth again.

“But you—”

“Now.”

She tugs are your arm and you follow as she takes a first few steps away from Keigo, only to turn around and face him.

“I hope you choke on your fucking feathers, birdy.”

“Always nice to talk to you, Usagiyama,” he simply smirks and gives her a small wave of his hand, “and I hope something,” he glances at you, “will enjoy getting done.”

Rumi doesn't give you any time to say goodbye to him, or to any of her hero friends, and she drags you out of the bar, heading straight for her car. She doesn't even let you register how forceful she is being that you've already been shoved in the passenger seat.

The ride home is short (too short; Rumi drives way too fast for a Pro Hero who is supposed to set an example for those around her) and awfully quiet. She didn't even look at you, didn't glance your way at least once like she usually does. Rumi's ears are still flattened in annoyance when she opens the door of her house to push you inside.

She kicks off her sneakers and takes off her leather jacket to leave it on the back of chair, then heads to the couch, sitting down nonchalantly, arms crossed under her chest in a way that pushes up her tits. All you can do is stare, unable to form a coherent thought as you settle down next to her.

“You had fun flirting with Big Bird, baby?” she asks, and the question would be innocent enough if you didn't know your girlfriend better.

You move so that you're facing Rumi on the couch, your knee bumping into a strong thigh — and maybe, for a moment, you get briefly distracted by the thought of these rippling muscles on either side of your head.

“Come on, Rumi, you know there was no actual flirting. We were just having fun.”

She leans closer to you, invading your personal space, face so close to yours that all you can see in the harsh coldness in her eyes. You barely have time to blink that one of her hands is at the back of your head, her grip on your hair surprisingly gentle.

“Oh, because you think I don’t know what little game you were playing with him there?” she is nearly snarling at you, and this time, her grip on your hair tightens, deliciously painful, and she tugs. “Why do you think I waited so long to grab you, uh?”

So, she knew? The whole time you spent talking with Keigo, flirting with him and allowing him to flirt to get a reaction from her, she knew? And it still didn't stop her from getting jealous and acting possessive in the middle of a bar, surrounded by numerous other Pro Heroes.

Her grip on your hair tightens once more and she brings you closer to her body.

"I just wanted to see how far you'd take your little game," she explains, words nearly spat through her gritted teeth. "But I couldn't take it anymore. You're mine, understood?" she asks, but the way she pulls at your hair clearly tells you that she expects no reply.

"I thought we agreed that I was my own person?" you smirk, even as she yet again tugs at your hair. "We said we don't own each other even if we're dating, didn't we?"

It is true, it's something you've talked about pretty early in your relationship together, after Rumi admitted that she could get jealous easily, but hated that she got jealous. It led to conversation about acting possessive during sex and marking, and you know that's what Rumi is going on about right now, and not some sort of ownership that she'd have over you because she is your girlfriend. But you can't help it, can't help wanting to push all her buttons and see what kind of punishment it earns you.

"You're playing smartass with me now, uh?"

She tugs at your hair again, forcing your head back slightly, but you hold eye contact, refusing to let her get the submission that she wants from you just now. You've already earned yourself a punishment, might as well make the most of it, right?

"I would never."

You smile innocently and bat your eyelashes at her, even if the pain tickling your scalp is starting to blur your sight.

She lets go of your hair without saying anything, and for just a second, you think she might be too annoyed with your act and drop the issue entirely to move on and do whatever she feels like doing for the rest of the night. But she wraps her strong fingers around your wrist and pulls, her free hand pressing harshly between your shoulder blades to push you down onto her lap, face into the couch cushion and ass up, perched over her thighs.

Well, shit.

The first spank comes unexpectedly fast and hard, you have no time to brace yourself for the impact, and your jeans do little to absorb the shock and the pain spreading through your cheek.

“Shit!” you groan through gritted teeth, trying your best not to get too loud, which is most likely exactly what Rumi wants right now.

“Got something to say, baby?” Rumi asks, and you can hear the smirk in her voice.

“Nope. All good,” you mumble.

A second slap comes, matching the first one in speed and strength, leaving your ass numb from the pain. If there’s one thing you can never expect from your girlfriend, it’s for her to go easy on you.

“All good, you said?”

“Yup,” you whimper pathetically, your voice having none of the bite you wish for. Two spanks, and Rumi already has you trembling over her lap, it’s ridiculous, but you should have seen it coming, really.

She spanks you again, twice, and takes the time to brush the palm of her hand over your sore cheeks, the gesture almost soothing. She repeats the movements again, and again, before stopping to give your ass a squeeze. With each spank, you pant, forcing yourself to swallow the moans that threaten to fall past your lips.

“You’re taking your punishment really well today, baby. Trying to be good for me?” she teases, her hand now comfortably lodged between your thighs, too close to your aching core and yet not nearly close enough.

“Or maybe you’re not hitting as hard as you think you are.”

You aren't sure why you said that, aren't sure what you're doing right now, all you know is that it's dangerous because you're just provoking Rumi — it's always a recipe for disaster in the end.

She doesn't spank you though, but she snakes a hand between her lap and your stomach, pressing her fingers into your skin and pushing up until you put your weight on your knees and lift yourself up enough for her to get access to the button of your pants. Rumi hooks her fingers at the hem of your jeans and tugs, dragging them down your thighs along with your underwear.

She doesn't give you time to adapt to the cool air against your exposed bottom, doesn't let you collect your thoughts or even take a breath, before she is spanking you again. She marks no pause between each strike, just spanks and spanks and spanks. Lost in the rapid fire of her assault on your sensitive ass, you can't stop yourself from moaning — and that's when she pauses.

“Did my baby just moan?”

You stubbornly refuse to respond, clenching your jaw. You know a spank is coming, but you still aren’t ready for the pain.

“It’s okay to admit that you’re just a slut, desperate for me to touch you,” she coos, her calloused fingers gently brushing the raw skin of your ass. “Even if I’m just spanking you, you want me to touch you, don’t you? Because you’re a needy little whore for me, uh?”

Her words cause a shiver to run down your spine, straight to your core, but you press your thighs together and bit your tongue. You’re well aware what she wants you to do, what she wants you to say, but you don’t want to give it to her today. You’ve decided to play, and you won’t back down just because she’s spanking your ass raw. At your stubborn silence, she all but growls in your ear, her annoyance obvious as she slaps your burning cheek once more.

“How long do you think you can resist, baby?” she asks as her fingers trace little patterns on your back, your shirt riding up as her hand slowly moves higher. “How long til you act like the good little slut you are for me?”

You muffle your whine in the cushion, which is starting to feel uncomfortably wet from your tears and drool under your cheek. You hate it, but you can’t give in now. Rumi would be too pleased.

“Just say you’re mine, baby, say you’re my perfect good little slut,” she says, her fingers trailing down your back to settle between your thighs, an inch from where you need her most, “just say it and I promise I’ll fuck your pretty cunt so good you won’t be able to walk.”

She runs a finger along your drenched fold, and you hear her hum in delight. You hate how wet she’s making you; you can’t deny that this is all for her, that it’s the effect she has one you. Met with only silence once again, Rumi harshly pinches your clit between her thumb and index finger.

“Aaah! Rumi—” you gasp, whole body quivering.

“Say it. Say you’re my slut. Beg me to fuck you.”

“Please,” you whimper weakly.

“Uh? What did you say? Didn’t hear you, baby. Stop hiding in the couch and gimme a proper sentence.”

You nearly sob as she tightens her grip on your clit before releasing it.

“I’m your slut! All yours!” you feel your whole face burning at your own word, at the desperation in your voice. “I need you to fuck me! Please... Mirko... please fuck me.”

She chuckles, all too amused to your liking.

“See? Ain’t so hard to be good, is it?”

Before you can register what’s happening, Rumi has hoisted you in her arms and thrown you over her shoulder and is making her way to your bedroom. Your pants still down the middle of your thighs and ass bared, it’s the most embarrassing ever but you can’t even find words to express it; you can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs, sticky and embarrassing.

She tosses onto the bed as soon as she is close enough to it.

“Be good and strip for me, baby. Take everything off.”

You hurry to obey, pushing your pants further down and kicking them off your feet before you start working on taking off your shirt. Rumi’s disappeared into the bathroom, so you sit patiently to wait for her, back leaning against the headboard.

When she comes back, Rumi is dressed, and you take the time to admire her beauty. The size of her strong arms obvious through the thin material of her long-sleeved crop top, the delicious expanse of tan skin of her stomach, her tight abs, the curve of her hips— you notice it only now, the thick bulge hidden under her jeans. You look up at her face, surprise written all over your features, and the smile she gives you is playful, she even wiggles her eyebrows at you.

Rumi unbuttons and unzips her pants, freeing the thickness of her strapon from them before climbing on the bed. She sits, legs spread, and beckons you closer with the simple movement of a finger.

“Suck it,” she demands, “get my cock nice and ready to fuck your cunt.”

You crawl over to her and wrap a hand around the hard silicone as soon as it’s within reach, your lips closing around its head. You circle it with your tongue, lick it, and look up at Rumi’s face, the dildo snug in your mouth. She can’t feel it, but she always enjoys when you put on a show for her.

Long gone is your little rebellious act from earlier. All you want is for Rumi to take you here and now, to have her fuck you until you pass out.

As you take more of the silicone cock into your mouth, she puts a hand on your head, and soon enough, you can feel her tight grip in your hair. You’re almost halfway when she tugs and pulls you away from her cock.

“Ass up. Face down. Now.”

You do as she orders, resisting the temptation to look up when you feel the bed dip next to you. You hear her open the drawer of the nightstand, then the sound of the lube bottle being opened. From the loud clang that follows, you know she’s thrown the bottle back in the drawer rather than bother putting it down.

Her fingers are cold when they press against your entrance, slick with thick lube that she spreads over your folds, over your clit, before pushing two fingers inside you. You grip at the sheets, low moan leaving your lips.

“Look at you, being all good for me now,” she comments, her tone teasing. “Taking my fingers so well.” This time, her voice comes from much closer, and you feel her chest pressing against your back. She kisses your neck and shoulders as she starts moving her fingers, slow and deliberate. “You want my cock, baby?”

You whimper at a particularly harsh thrust of her fingers and tighten your grip on the sheet to try and keep yourself anchored, balanced.

“Yes, please! I want your cock in me!”

She pulls out her fingers, and your cunt clenches around the emptiness. You can’t help but moan miserably. She coos above you, amused by your desperation, of course.

She pushes the thick head of the strapon against your hole, but instead of pushing further into you, she guides it up and down your folds, several time, painfully slow, spreading the slickness of your arousal mixed with the lube. You whine and push your hips back, seeking what she is refusing you. A big mistake, and you know it even before both her hands hit your ass, still raw from the spanking she gave you.

“Don’t try that again, baby,” she warns, squeezing the flesh of your in her hands as she presses the dildo against your entrance again. “You gonna be good for me now?”

“I promise I’ll be good! So, please, please fuck me!”

She pushes into you slowly, just the head, then pulls out and repeats the movement, carefully stretching you. She eases more of the strapon inside you with each move, and while you are grateful for how careful she is being, you wish she would just fuck you into the mattress already.

Finally, you feel her hips against your ass, and she pauses for a moment as her hands rest on your waist.

“You ready, baby?”

“I am.”

The pace she sets is fast, the movements of her hips quick, precise and harsh, almost unforgiving. The material of her pants feels rough against the sensitive skin of your ass, and you suspect Rumi of having kept her pants on merely to torture you that way.

Within seconds, Rumi has you panting and moaning.

“So good for me, taking my cock so well.”

She slows her quick pace to focus on deeper, more forceful thrusts. You can’t even form a coherent sentence, or even words, to respond. And when one of her hands leaves your waist, you clench your teeth and brace yourself for an impact that doesn’t come. Instead of spanking you, she is gentle as she places her hand on your ass. She doesn’t leave you time to consider asking her what she is doing that her thumb is pushing against your hole, and she keeps it set firmly in your ass as she quickens the pace again, fucking into your cunt ruthlessly, her hips slapping your ass with each thrust.

“Fuck! Mirko! Please!”

You’re babbling, unsure if the sounds that come out of your mouth are even the ones in your mind, but you can’t bring yourself to care when all you can feel is your girlfriend fucking you like your lives depends on it. And with each thrust bringing you closer to the edge, you moan, you mewl, you pant, you aren’t sure which, the lewd, wet noises of your pussy overwhelming your senses.

“Look at you, baby,” she croons, “being such a good slut for me, making such pretty noises just for me. So pretty and perfect. And all mine.”

“I’m so close! Please! I wanna come!”

She stills her hips, “then do,” she simply says, punctuating the short sentence with a strong thrust before resuming her quick pace.

It only takes a few more thrusts of her cock and her thumb pushing a little further into your ass for your muscles to clench desperately around her strap as waves of pleasure crash through your body, your limbs quivering from the unadulterated bliss clouding your mind.

She is gentle as she pulls out, kisses your back as she eases you down onto the mattress and lies down next to you.

You turn your head to look at her, and she is grinning at you as you lay limply on the bed. She caresses your cheek, soft and loving, and shifts closer to kiss you on the nose.

“You did so good, babe,” she whispers, her smile only broadening, “I’m so proud of you.”

Feeling the exhaustion invade your body, you close your eye and focus on enjoying her gentle touch as she runs her fingers along your back and shoulders.

“Let’s get you in the shower in a few minutes, yeah? I’ll have to take care of your ass. I really got carried, sorry ‘bout that.”

You chuckle sleepily at her apology.

“Don’t be sorry, you know I liked it.”

“I do know. I mean, you fucking dripped on my pants, there’s still a spot on my thigh.”

You groan in embarrassment, and you would cover your face with your hands if your muscles weren’t still twitching from your orgasm.

“Just carry my lifeless body to the bathroom.”

“Gimme a break, I’m tired too. I fucking wrecked my hands spanking you so hard, ya know?”

“You really want to compare the state of your hands to my ass?” you mutter, frowning, eyes barely opening.

It’s her turn to chuckle.

“Yeah, okay, no. Just, lemme take a breathe and I’ll take care of my baby.”

#mirko x reader #mha x reader #mha x you #mha smut #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha smut #🐇 usagiyama rumi ( mirko )#⚠️ mdni ⚠️#🍌 drabbles & oneshots #i need to cleanse my soul and wash off my sins #at least i didn't write mommy!mirko #which is nothing short of a miracle tbh

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headheartbellarke · 4 years ago

Text

EIGHTEEN | Charlie Gillespie

PAIRING(s): Charlie Gillespie x sister’s best friend!fem reader

WARNING(s): mentions of abuse, trauma, fluff

WORDS: 3.9k

SUMMARY: “So kiss me where I lay down

My hands pressed to your cheeks

A long way from the playground

I have loved you since we were 18

Long before we both thought the same thing

To be loved and to be in love

All I can do is say that these arms

Are made for holding you.”

READ ON AO3

OR READ HERE BELOW

Charlie smiles, watching the sunlight dance on Y/N’s face, almost like little splashes of golden paint. She hums to whatever song is playing through her earphones, a faint smile teasing the corners of her lips. Her eyes are closed, and Charlie marvels at how peaceful and serene she looks. Her h/c hair surrounds her head like a halo, and he is tempted to reach forward and press a kiss to her temple.

He doesn’t do that, of course. Instead, he gets up from his couch and joins Y/N on the floor, lying beside her. Her eyelashes flutter at his movement and quaint, kind e/c eyes hold his stare, eyebrows raised in question.

“I thought you said that you were too mighty for the floor.” She teases, biting her lower lip to hide a smile. Charlie almost melts at that.

“I never said that. Is everything okay up there?” He points his index finger at her head.

The young woman of nineteen laughs mockingly. “Why, afraid you’re rubbing off your crazy on me?”

Charlie rolls his eyes, and shifts closer to her, their arms touching slightly – and even that slight touch makes him feels butterflies in his stomach. It’s not uncommon, of course. Ever since he realized that he is indeed in love with her, anything that she does gives him butterflies. He doesn’t mind, of course – but he hates the fact that he is unable to tell her what effect she has on him. So, he resorts to ignoring or suppressing everything he feels for his little sister’s best friend instead.

She pulls out an ear pod from her left ear and shoves it into Charlie’s ear. Eastside. She’s had this song on repeat, ever since she came to visit him in Vancouver, where he’s filming for the first season of Julie and The Phantoms.

“I love this song. Reminds me of my first boyfriend. Remember him?” She says, softly.

“Aaron. How could I forget? You begged me to cover for you at home so you could hang out with him.” He says, smiling softly at the memory. They were so young, Y/N just fourteen, and him sixteen. He remembers Y/N sitting beside him on the couch while he was watching a movie, all flushed and bothered, eyes continuously flitting to Charlie. He remembers saying, “I know you’re dying to tell me something.”

She had nodded, looking around the Gillespies’ living room where they were currently seated in, apprehensively. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

He had jutted out his pinky finger and wrapped it around hers. “Never.”

“I think I really, really, super-duper like Aaron.”

“Aaron as in your next-door neighbor?”

“Yep.”

Charlie had smirked. “He’s such a dork. I can’t believe that you like him.”

“Shut up, Char. He’s the sweetest.”

He chuckled. “His hobby is taking pictures of trees… if that doesn’t scream ‘dork’, then I don’t know what does.”

She had glared at him while Megan had entered the room, plopping down on the couch beside Charlie. “What’s up?”

“I’m telling him about Aaron, and he thinks that he’s a dork.”

Megan shrugged. “What’s wrong with that? He’s really cute. Also, he was asking about you today.”

“Really?” Y/N’s eyes brightened. Charlie laughed, shaking his head. “You girls are weird. But I approve. He’s a nice kid.”

“I wasn’t looking for your approval?”

“Yes, you were.”

The girls had rolled their eyes at him and he had wrapped his arms around the two.

Y/N’s voice brings him back to the present. “Simple times.”

Charlie faces her. “Everyone after him were horrible.”

She narrows her eyes at the boy beside her. “No, you were just too overprotective.”

“Nope. They were all horrible.”

They weren’t. Charlie just hated anyone who showed an interest in Y/N. At first, he thought that it was probably because he had literally watched her grow up. But a couple of months later, when he watched her kiss Levitt from the swim team, he had felt a smoldering rage rise in his stomach, along with his heart clenching. That day, he had realized that maybe there was more to it than watching her grow up. A couple more months later, on his eighteenth birthday, when she had kissed him on his cheek and handed him a present wrapped in shiny, blue paper, he had felt butterflies in his stomach. He also could feel the ghost of her delicate lips against his skin for days after, like the remnants of a fire brushing against his cheek.

When he unwrapped the present, he found a vintage, hardbound copy of his favorite book, Les Misérables, along with a note, saying: ‘I might’ve read your journal. Only the part about how much you loved hardcovers and the part about how much you hated the fact that no bookstores nearby sold it. Well, I also might’ve read the part about how frustrated you are with microwave timers. I feel you, dude. But, yeah, remember when I said that I was going to visit my sister in Montoc? I lied, LOL. I went to a vintage bookstore in Fredericton. I’m sorry for lying, but ‘twas for a good reason, huh? Hope you like this. Also, you’re my second favorite person, after Meg. Happy 18th, Charles. Love, Y/N.’

That moment he had realized that he was completely, utterly, truly, madly, deeply in love with his little sister’s best friend.

It’s been about three years since that, and he still hasn’t told her how he feels.

Now, Y/N looks at him, and rolls her eyes. “Sheesh.”

She props herself on her elbow. “When are we going out today?”

“Jeremy said that he made a reservation at 6. So, we’ll leave half an hour earlier.”

“Okay. Is Owen going with us?”

“Yeah. I don’t trust him to drive in Canada.”

She grins. “He’s cool.”

“Maybe sometimes.”

“Savannah and Madi are the coolest, though.”

“Definitely, yeah.”

“You never told me that you had a cute roomie, though.”

“Yeah – wait what?”

Y/N flashes him a teasing smile and pushes herself upward with the palm of her hands. She brushes off her yoga pants and extends an arm to Charlie who is currently panicking inside.

“Do you like Owen?”

“What if I do?”

Charlie must have looked as horrified as he had felt because she laughs and says, “I’m just messing with you.”

“Thank god.”

***

“Finally!” Y/N yells, kicking off her black, leather heels, which land near Charlie’s feet. He laughs, kicking them to the side.

“You’re so dramatic.”

“I dare you to wear heels like that for a day. See how you feel.”

Owen pipes from behind them, closing the door to their apartment. “Oh, I did. My friend Dani made me wear them for a video. It was the most painful day of my life.”

“See!” Y/N high fives his roommate as Charlie scrunches up his face. “How’d she find heels in your size, dude?”

He laughs, and extends an arm toward the other two, who hand him their coats, muttering ‘thank you’ individually. He walks inside, yelling, “I’m fucking tired. Going to sleep.”

“Don’t forget to check the stove!” Charlie yells back, hearing his roommate affirm his request.

It’s just the two of them standing in the foyer now, and Charlie can’t stop staring at her. She’s wearing this beautiful red dress that compliments her skin perfectly, clinging to her body in all the right places – he had himself gifted her this dress on her nineteenth birthday. (Not really. His mother had picked the dress.)

She hasn’t noticed him staring, though.

“Ugh, I can’t wait to get out of this dress.” She walks inside.

Charlie pauses and purses his lips, trying to stop himself from picturing him doing it. He breathes out raggedly and follows her inside – trying (and failing) to shove that mental picture away.

Reaching the living room, he falls back onto the couch, which has been his bed for the past few days that Y/N has been here. She had protested, of course. But she already has so much trouble sleeping – she’s had it ever since she was a child.

Y/N hadn’t had the best childhood. Charlie faintly remembers his mom pulling him and his sister into the kitchen one day when Y/N left their house after spending the whole day there.

“Mom? What happened to Y/N?” Megan had asked, childlike innocence dripping off her tone.

Charlie had nodded, saying, “How’d she fall down the stairs? That bruise looked nasty.”

Their mother had sighed, and Charlie still remembers the pain in her eyes. “Honey. I want you to listen carefully, okay? And not tell anyone. You two think you can do that?”

They nodded enthusiastically.

“There are good people in this world – like Y/N. But there are also bad people, people who hurt the good people. And sometimes, sometimes, your parents can also be bad people.”

“That’s not true!” Megan had protested, their mother smiling.

“Maybe not for you. I hope so. But Y/N’s parents – they aren’t the best people, okay? They…uh… I’m not going to excuse their actions. They, uh, hurt Y/N.”

“So, they pushed her down the stairs?” Charlie asked, his eyes widened. He could not understand how the people that loved you the most could do that to you, especially to someone like Y/N. He’s known her his entire life, ever since the Y/L/Ns moved next door when he was still in diapers.

“I don’t know. Something happened. She was too shaken up to talk about it.”

“But – but – she’s the best person ever! Why would her mom and dad do that to her?” Megan had protested, eyes welling with tears at the thought of her best friend getting hurt.

“I don’t know, honey. I wish I did, I really do.” Their mother paused for a long moment. “I want you two to always be nice to her, alright? No matter what happens. Because, right now, she feels alone. I can see it in her eyes – she’s scared, confused, lonely. I know you two love her so much, and I want you guys to make sure that she knows it, okay? Make sure that she never feels lonely, all right? Make sure that she’s always safe and comfortable, as long as she’s with us, you.”

They had nodded, their hearts welling up with love for their friend.

After their mother hugged the two of them, Charlie’s twelve-year-old sister had run off to the other room, to call her best friend and tell her just how much she loves her.

Charlie had lingered in the kitchen, too sad over what he’d just been told.

“Maman?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Can’t we just keep her for ourselves?”

“If we could, we would. I would like nothing more. But that’s absolutely not legal, mon chéri.”

“Oh. That’s unfair.”

His mother had flashed him a sad smile. He had taken both of his hands in his, and said sincerely, “I promise you, maman. I’m always gonna protect her. No matter what.”

His mother had pressed a kiss into his tousled hair and whispered, “I expect nothing less.”

It’s been more than seven years since, but Charlie still does everything in his power to make sure that she is always safe and happy.

“Hey, Char?” Her voice brings him back from his childhood.

“Yeah?”

“That couch doesn’t look comfortable.” She shrugged one shoulder.

“It is! I promise you.” He lied. It definitely wasn’t comfortable. The blinding pain in his neck is proof of that.

“Don’t lie to me. Come on, sleep in your bed.”

He shook his head.

“You’re not gonna sleep on the couch, Y/N. Seriously. You’re right, it’s too uncomfortable.”

“I wasn’t gonna. We’ll sleep together. That came out wrong. I mean, we can both sleep in the same bed, we’re both adults.”

Charlie wanted to protest, but the hopeless romantic in him drowned all objections.

“We’ll put pillows between us, okay? And it’s not like we haven’t slept in the same bed before. Remember my seventeenth? We were so drunk that we thought that the bed was a magnet, and we were screws.” She continued, looking away.

Charlie smiled up at her, remembering the feeling he had the next morning when he had woken up to find Y/N curled up into him, her head tucked into the crook of his neck. “All right. If it’s okay with you.”

She nods, walking into his bedroom, with Charlie following close behind. Both them wordlessly change and freshen up in the bathroom, and Charlie falls face first in his bed.

“Oh. My. God.”

Y/N laughs, sitting at the corner of his bed. “Knew it.”

Charlie grins at her, feeling absolutely euphoric, especially with the buzz from all the drinks he’s had tonight still lingering in his head like a tattoo kiss. She slides under the covers, burrowing her face into the soft pillows. “I can’t function anymore. Bye.”

He laughs softly, squeezing her shoulder, to which she softly smiles. He slides under the cover, resting on his side to face her, or rather a mess of h/c hair and soft, rhythmic breaths. He closes his eyes, switching off the light, but he knows that he will not be getting much sleep tonight, especially with the fuzzy citrus scent of her perfume everywhere and the heat from her body consuming him.

***

It’s 1:20 AM and Charlie can’t sleep. Turns out that being in the same bed with the girl he’s been in love with since he was eighteen is a very, very bad idea. He’s put as much space between them as possible, yet he still feels vigilant and hot. His mind is betraying him: all he can think about is how beautiful she looks when the moonlight streaming through his window is casting shadows on her face, or how she’s sometimes saying things (really, really weird things, though – Charlie doesn’t understand anything), how much she looks like a little cat while she’s snuggled into the covers, or how she flails her arms while she’s asleep.

He considers crashing in Owen’s room for the night. But as soon as Y/N starts moving around, still sleeping, he holds that thought and watches her instead.

He can see her getting agitated, as she tosses and turns. She continues murmuring something, but it’s still all jumbled, and it hits Charlie.

He props himself on his elbow and leans close to her face. “Y/N. Hey. Come back to me. Y/N. Honey. You’re safe. You’re safe.”

She gasps, as consciousness floods in her system. She looks confused for a second, and Charlie sits up, right beside her. “Listen to me. You’re safe. I’m here. It’s okay. You’re okay. Everything is okay.”

She exhales, eyes closing for a second.

“Are you okay?” Charlie asks when her breathing has turned cadenced.

Her eyes widen and lips part. “I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t ever need to apologize for that. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I just – ever since I left home, I’ve been getting these nightmares.” She says, softly. Charlie lays next to her, turning to face her, while she mirrors his actions.

“What do you see?” He asks.

“Mostly my childhood. You know, my dad pushing me down the stairs. Or my mother telling me that I’m a horrible person and no one will ever love me, and she should have aborted me. Or my dad breaking the mirror the one time I got a B in math. Or my parents fighting. Or – you know, just a montage of my parents’ greatest hits.”

She breathes out shakily.

“Getting away didn’t stop the nightmares, huh?” He asks, resting a hand on her warm cheek.

She scoots closer. “No. They still text me sometimes, mostly to remind me that I’m a terrible person and that I’m gonna go to hell for walking out on them and not going to Harvard.”

“Y/N, don’t you dare –”

“No. I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Walking out was the best decision that I’ve ever made.”

He smiles softly at her.

“You and Megan… god, you two saved my life. I would never have had the courage to get this far if it wasn’t for you guys.”

“No, honey. It was all you. You’re the strongest person we know.”

“Shush. Let me compliment you in peace. You guys are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know.”

She smiles, reaching forward to tangle run her hands through Charlie’s hair. They were dangerously close now: Charlie could see the curve of her nose, the lingering red lipstick color on her lips and count the number of eyelashes she has.

“You’re the best thing that’s happened to us, too.”

Charlie can feel something in the space between them, something pulling them close. It is cold outside, but here, in the cocoon they’ve created, he feels warm and at home.

“Like, thank you so much for pushing me to get into law school. Now, I’m learning how to help millions of little girls who are going through what I went through, and it makes everything worth it. I feel like I don’t say this enough, but Charlie. Thank you for everything.”

He smiles, trying to retort something funny but her proximity has jumbled his mind.

“I know you’re really busy with your life, but thanks for still thinking of me sometimes.”

That breaks Charlie out of his daze. “What?”

“You know. You’re in a Netflix show, working with Kenny freaking Ortega and all these incredible people – and I’m enormously proud of you, by the way – and… well, you’ll soon not have that much time for your little sister’s best friend, you know?”

“You’re not just my little sister’s best friend, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I’m your friend, alright. But soon you’ll be meeting celebrities and models and actors and then you wouldn’t have time for me anymore.”

Charlie furrows his brows. “Where is this coming from, Y/N?”

“I just had a lot of time to think today.” She turns on her back, facing the ceiling.

He hates the fact that she is so unpredictable: he never knows what’s going on in her head or what she is feeling. That’s one of the reasons that he’s kept his feelings for her a secret for almost three years.

“I saw you with that model today. At the bar. Uh. So, I thought that you’re probably gonna meet a lot of them in LA. Models and Hollywood girls and all that. So, you’ll probably not have any time for me anymore.”

Charlie shakes his head, recalling the model he was talking to earlier today. Or rather, yesterday. Carol. She was really nice, sweet, and beautiful – and definitely interested in Charlie. But his focus had been on Y/N, who was having a dance off with Owen and Savannah, all evening – or rather, all the time. He had tried to focus on the Carol, he really did – but after an hour, she herself realized that he wasn’t into her and whispered a ‘good luck with her’ to him before leaving to go back to her friends.

“Y/N, that’s not true –”

“It’s okay, Charlie. It’s good. Your life shouldn’t be stuck in the same place. It should be getting better, and you should be meeting new people, you know? You’ve been alone for a weirdly long time and it’s freaking your mom out. So, I know you’re gonna fall in love with someone and then you’ll be too busy –”

“God, Y/N, how are you so fucking oblivious?” Charlie snaps, annoyance coursing through his veins.

Her eyes widen at his harsh tone of voice, and it shocks Charlie, too. He’s never, ever raised his voice at her.

“What?”

Maybe it’s having her so incredibly close that causes him to finally snap. “Y/N, I have been in love with you ever since I was eighteen. You’re the only person that I want, and you’re the reason that I’ve been alone for a weirdly long time.”

He immediately regrets saying that. Y/N is sitting up, and she is looking around everywhere, trying to avert Charlie’s eyes. He hides his face behind his hands, sinking deeper into the covers and trying to create a hole and fall down to the center of the earth.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink today.”

He groans into his hands, glad that he’s under the covers and the girl can’t see his absolutely scarlet face. “Oh, for god’s sake. Dude. I wrote you an entire ballad when I was nineteen because I realized that this is exactly what’s gonna happen – that I’m always gonna be in love with you, and you’re always gonna think of me as your best friend’s older brother.”

He feels the covers shift above his head, and is greeted with Y/N’s face, a vulnerable look in her eyes. “Do you really mean it?”

“Of course, I do. You’re my family – do you really think that I’m gonna joke about something like this and ruin our friendship? The only reason I’m even telling you this is because I’m incredibly frustrated that you’re so oblivious and you’re so fucking pretty. And so close. See, this is exactly why I wanted to sleep on the couch. Because I knew that I would lose it.”

There’s a sudden flurry of movement and her lips are on his’, and they’re kissing, kissing, kissing. Charlie is too shocked to do anything at first but as soon as the warmth courses through his system and the butterflies go wild in his gut, he pulls her closer, rising up. She sits in his lap, straddling him, their hands getting lost in each other’s hairs – both of them trying to be closer, closer, closer to make up for all the lost years and to keep feeling the contentment that they feel from just being close to each other. She tastes like Charlie’s mint toothpaste and his dreams – like everything he’s ever wanted.

As they separate for air, Y/N rests her forehead on his. “I thought you knew.”

“What?” He’s surprised to find his voice hoarse.

“That I’m in love with you.”

He can’t stop the grin on his face from escaping. “What?”

“I thought Meg told you. Or your mum. Or anyone really. Everyone’s called me out on it. I’ve always had a crush on you but dating all those guys in high school made me realize that I was kind of, you know, in love with you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Same reason as you. You’re my family, Charlie. I didn’t wanna lose what we have just because of… you know.”

Y/N slides off his lap and lies on the bed, next to him and he mirrors her actions, and she rests her head on his chest, the frantic beating in his chest her background music. He drapes an arm around her shoulders, desperate to have her close.

“We’re both cowards, eh?”

She giggles.

“Wait. Meg knew?”

“Of course. She’s my best friend.”

“You know, one day I got drunk and told her that ‘I’m 100% attracted to your best friend sexually and emotionally and everythingally.’ I kept wondering why she was laughing.”

“I hate her.” She buries her face in Charlie’s chest, giggling.

Charlie laughs and pulls her in for another kiss, desperate to hold her again, to feel the high he only feels around her. She smiles against his lips, before a thought occurs to him. “Wait. You were jealous of the bar girl, weren’t you?”

“Shut up, you dork.”

They’re only half aware of the snowstorm raging outside from the warm cocoon they’ve created in each other’s arms. Maybe miracles really do exist.

***

drop a message in my ask or in my messages if u wanna be on the jatp taglist!! requests are also open <3

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