#anyways i hate writing essays in response to asks stop making me write essays i already got my english degree | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

choconanime · 2 years ago

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OMG THNAK U FOR ANSWERING QUE RICO FOOOOOOD NOM NOM

FUYVUVUY i may uh...went a lil overboard so if you wanna skip some honestly?UNDERSTABLE LMAO BUT 💢🥞🍰🌙🕷️🌹🙉🙈🙊🌏🪤✂️🎡🎀♥️💙💔 for um Lola,guts n maybe hahaha chase def not bcuz I'm a simp for two n the other one UUUUH ANYWAY SORRY IF IS A LOT KISSY HAVE A GOOD DAY ON UR SPECIAL DAY

THANK YOU CHOCO FOR THE BDAY WISHES I KISS YOUR KIND FACE. IM MORE THAN HAPPY TO FEED U ON TJIS FINE (belated now that im posting it) DAY >:)

also this got so long but i wanfed to answer it all bc im impulsive . HOPEFULLY I DIDNT FORGET ANY

💢 ANGER - what are some habits they have that will take some getting used to?

chase and guts have the very similar issue of locking people out of their lives and just? never actually telling ppl what’s up with them if smth’s the matter at all. chase is 10x more secretive and defensive than guts, but guts is a lot more abrasive when it comes to getting people off his tail.

chase is also a very prolific ‘ghoster’ of sorts — has a very prolific tendency to just disappear for a while out of nowhere, be it a few hours or a few days in some cases. never really tells people what he was doing or where he went, if he even went anywhere or if he was avoiding/ignoring them… and doesn’t even recognize that it’s kinda rude to randomly drop ppl for extended periods at a time and to come waltzing back in (if ever). by recognize i mean ‘acknowledge that hes in the wrong’ and not ‘does not know he’s wrong’

guts on the other hand — while not much of a ghoster in the same sense chase is, he is pretty aggressively antisocial. he doesn’t hang out, usually declines all invitations, never initiates or reciprocates attempts to maintain relationships, and has a tendency to actively push people out of his life.

lola is by far, one of the most touchy-feely and strong-handed ppl in my roster. she has a bit of a tendency to muscle people into doing things, and an even worse tendency of talking over others. she can be a bit of a bully when it comes to her jokes and can overstep quite a few personal boundaries when it comes down to it. it’s not quite out of a place of immaturity or naivety, so it comes off as pretty malicious.

🥞 PANCAKE - what is their comfort breakfast?

chase -> not much of a sweets guy, but he likes the classic american breakfast platter as a rare treat. you know like. pancakes, sausage, eggs, syrup, bacon. nice.

guts -> feel like he doesn’t eat breakfast much as a default, but baked eggs with sausage…… or any leftovers from the night before.

lola -> A SWEETS LOVER…. LOVER OF ALL THINGS DECADENT AS A TREAT…… she likes having soapaipilla or anything sugary.

🍰 CAKE SLICE - favourite cake flavour? are they specific about types of cakes?

chase -> something in my heart is telling me he’s a carrot cake man and i cannot ignore its call…!! he doesn’t like super heavy cakes/super sweet ones, he’s good with the basics. not a fan of icecream cakes.

guts -> if it’s a cake, he’s gonna eat it. no preference at all, but he rly enjoys the sweeter side of things. maybe go easy on the frosting bc it’s a bit of a mess, but he’ll still eat it regardless.

lola -> SOMETHING FRUITY BUT NOT TOO HEAVY ON THE SWEETNESS… a little cinnamon-y with a fruit like mango or strawberry. maybe a lemon cake. she likes tres lèches but she’s also always down for a good fruit cheesecake.

🌙 MOON - what is your oc's greatest wish? how far are they willing to go for it?

two out of three of these guys aren’t very ‘grand’ in their ambitions, and the other one purposefully leaves his wish as vague as possible. can you guess who. (it’s chase)

chase -> he wants to pave a better future, a guaranteed future. be it for himself, his friends, his family, or just other people in a situation like him — he wants something More than what they have now. the question of ‘how far he’s willing to go’ is entirely dependent on how far he can get without being questioned by the people close to him.

guts -> a very general desire to exist quietly and without much thought or disturbance. he doesn’t have that much gusto in him to ensure it happens, but he does what he can. it’s unpleasant if it won’t happen, but he really can’t fight that hard.

lola -> live big, live splendidly 😌 that’s all that matters. there’s no need to overexert yourself for grandeur when the fun exists on all corners! she’ll go as far as she feels bothered to, it’s really not that serious. don’t get so butthurt about it!

🕷️ SPIDER - what is their biggest fear? do they have any irrational / mundane fears?

chase -> grossed out by maggots, and gets a bit paranoid when his door is neither locked or closed. not rly scared of much else.

guts -> nervous about most matters related to bureaucracy. like… paperwork? permits? registering and keeping track of shit…? dear lord. also he’s mildly claustrophobic.

lola -> super horrific and gross body injury stuff, but minor bloody things are whatever. doesn’t like being chased, zombies, and or ghosts. doesn’t mind other horror clichés much.

🌹 ROSE - do they like valentines day? have they been confessed to before? have they confessed to anyone before?

chase -> very indifferent to valentines day. he has been confessed to before (for valentines day), but that was in elementary school and it didn’t really matter much to him. being confessed to nowadays is way more uncommon. hasn’t confessed to anyone before, but that’s also bc he hasn’t rly felt the need to before.

guts -> also indifferent to valentines day, but NRC days wise he dreads it a bit. he’s gonna be swamped on that day for work…. but it’s not like he has a life, so why not. he’s been flirted with before, but not incredibly seriously. also has never asked anyone out just bc its not rly his place go ask.

lola -> a lover of most things pink and heart-shaped, she must love valentines day like it is her flesh and blood! there’s so much cute stuff going on around those days, how could you hate it? lola gets asked out on an infrequent basis, but that’s also largely because lola tends to make the first move anytime someone catches her eye.

🙈 SEE-NO-EVIL - whats a side of your oc that they don't want to show other people?

chase -> would prefer that ppl don’t catch onto some of his more meticulous or malicious patterns, bc it’s not like he’s going out of his way to be despicable but he knows some parts of himself are definitely not . healthy. he’d prefer for the ppl who he cares about to not have to interact with that aspect of him.

guts -> tbh. ppl have already seen the worst parts of him and he’s pretty sure his current self is no better, so there’s nothing rly to hide about himself.

lola -> nothing really…? she’s not really ashamed of herself and thinks most, if not all, parts of herself are pretty admirable, so why tuck it away? take a gander at will 😎

🙊 SPEAK-NO-EVIL - what is something your oc will refuse to stay quiet about?

chase -> the funny thing about him is that he’ll stay quiet even about the things he cares about. it’s not like being outspoken was ever a requirement for him to do the things he wanted to do. he’s always done his best work behind closed doors.

guts -> the middleman between these two fr. he’ll take a lot of bullshit, but he’s always been very particular of where he stakes himself — and even if it’s not the most vocal protest, guts tries his best to put himself between ‘civilian’ types (even if they are ‘troublemakers’) and certain settings he knows they don’t belong in. there’s nothing to be gained from picking fights with either side.

lola -> it could be the slightest inconvenience and lola wouldn’t take it sitting down. not to say she’d flip a table over a minor annoyance, but she’s a lady of snide comments and more provocations that are always itching to come to the surface.

🙉 HEAR-NO-EVIL - what is the worse thing your oc could hear from someone?

ALL THREE OF THEM HAVE CONCERNINGLY THICK SKIN. ITS A BIT DIFFICULT TO THINK OF SMTH THAT’D STRIKE A REALLY FOUL CHORD IN THEM BUT…

chase -> ITS GOTTA BE SMTH THAT RLY STRIPS HIM OF HIS DIGNITY… not that he’d burst a vein over being called a hick or broke, but i think he’d get pretty pissed off if someone, in any way, talks down on the circumstances of his birth or his foster home history.

guts -> not that he’ll get furious and start throwing shit and having an emo meltdown or anything if anyone calls him this (disclaimer pt 2) but it’s still pretty shit for guts if anyone can recognize him as a finn. and it’s even deeper shit if they call him brutus.

lola -> not that it’s hurtful, but it does piss her off (disclaimer pt 3)— she has never hated anything more than being called baby girl and everything adjacent to it. call her a scavenger or whatever, that’s fine but for the love of god….! WHO IS KITTEN? ANGEL BABY? DOLL? DADDY’S PRINCESS….????? IS THAT SUPPOSED TO BE HER??? TO BE LOLA????😨😨😨😨😨🤢🤮🤮🤢🤮🤢🤮

🌏 EARTH - will they give up the world for someone they love? is this decision easy for them?

chase -> no. not really. in terms of semantics, i guess he comes close to it but…? at the end of the day, pretty resound no. as important as they may be to him, they could never be so important that they could take from him. it’s an easy decision for him, but i feel some would wish it was a little harder if he rly did care that much :,-)

guts -> maybe? he’s not capable enough to give them the entire world, but he could try and give them his world. not like he’s rly been doing much with it — and it’s not exactly like he’s not used to giving his shit up. it’s a bit of a rough choice, it’s not like he’s a masochist with a metaphorical death wish, but he doesn’t really have much else outside of them, so why not.

lola -> not the world, no way! it’s not like she doesn’t care about them enough to not sacrifice smth big but like, does she rly care thaaaaaat much? the world is kinda important yknow, she needs her life to have room for improvement too — it’s not going to be all for her s/o.

🪤 MOUSE TRAP - what will always lure them into certain danger? a loved one in danger? a promise of something they are always searching for?

chase -> never the type to act recklessly or go in blind — if he’s doing something dangerous then it’s entirely bc he has something to gain. a favor, some sort of leverage… proving a point is viable for him too, but he still needs something directly out of it. he has people he cares about for sure, people he’d get into some deal of trouble for but to go out of his way to risk himself needs a little bit more than just his affection.

guts -> i mean, he’s always been a bit of a meatshield. for azul, for the finns, for… whoever is convincing enough or just happens fo be in the right place. not the type to go prancing into danger unknowingly, but if he feels like someone’s got leverage over him then he’s obligated to go in wherever they’re telling him to go.

lola -> well she’s not always the sharpest tool in the shed so it’s not like waltzing into danger is foreign to her. party girls live as party girls do…. and keeping an eye out for things is tough! she’ll typically go in for her own material gain, more often than not. food to eat, cash in her pocket, fun in her brain — whatever! self-preservation is only important when it’s a situation she can’t guarantee some means of escape or surrender.

✂️ SCISSORS - what is the "last straw" for them to cut someone out of their life? how easily do they let go of people?

chase -> the moment he deems them a lost cause is when he’s cutting them out immediately. the exact definition of ‘lost cause’ is pretty flexible, but more often than not — it means that they’re not likely to believe him or follow his lead anymore; they overstepped and either got too close to a grisly truth about him of tried too hard to get that truth out of him; and or he just doesn’t think they’re worth any effort investing in. he seems to let go easily enough and in most cases, he’s content with just brushing it under the rug. but he never forgets, and he probably was lying about forgiving.

guts -> a bit hard for guts to cut people out if they’re in close with him. it’s coming largely from a place of cowardice, that he really doesn’t trust himself enough to think he’s doing the right thing even if he’s been mistreated prior. it’d really take a lot of damage for guts to really feel that he should run, but that damage would also have to extend to other people for him to feel more secure in his choice of bailing. he doesn’t let go easily, he’s always a bit too wary of them and what they’ve done after he gets out — and it’ll likely stay like that for good long while.

lola -> she leaves the moment she knows they don’t respect her enough. it’s fine to not take her so seriously, it’s fine to treat her like the irresponsible one — but when the jokes get a little too close to treating her like she’s expendable, there’s gonna be a problem. she’ll sort it out if she can, but more often than not she’s fine with burning bridges. she doesn’t cling much onto the thought after she cuts them out, but she neither forgives nor forgets.

🎡 FERRIS WHEEL - are they someone who wants to kiss at the top of the ferris wheel?

chase -> no, not really. not much of a kissing or pda guy…. and doesn’t really get why people think the ferris wheel is so special, but he’s fine with enjoying the ferris wheel views.

guts -> no… he’s way more bashful than chase about pda. but also, why at the top of the ferris wheel. was any other spot not romantic enough. also it’s a bit too small for him to feel comfortable.

lola -> omg yeth 😋 she’s down for anything corny or new — she’d kiss at the peak of a roller coaster if she got the chance. she thinks it’s cute! pda isn’t a must for her, but you gotta at least cooperate with her demands (of give her a kiss rn)

🎀 RIBBON - how would they fit into other worlds / aus? what aus would you like to try out? what fictional world would they fit / not fit into?

I HAVE SO MANY AUS…. SO MANY….. and tbh, my method of swapping to fit charas into aus just preserves the core of their character so that they can fit pretty much anywhere.

i don’t have any hard no’s for aus aside from hargle pooter, but i’m a bitch for any and all aus outside of that B)

aus i think would be fun to explore for all of them… i’ll give two for now :-)

wild west:

chase -> cattle rustler (former miner) — breaking your back for the big man with nothing to gain but black in your lungs…. maybe it’ll push men towards less savory deals.

guts -> carriage driver (former gunslinger) — the highlife of crime isn’t really for everyone… maybe it’s time to pass the reigns off to someone else and just do some sight-seeing… (or just getting roped into more people’s trouble)

lola -> bounty hunter (former bronco rider) — the exhilaration of bucking in the same old circle can sometimes be rekindled by breaking out entirely and dedicating your life to roughhousing for a hearty, unpromised buck.

soul eater:

chase -> rifle meister: a skilled marksman with a startlingly wide range of abilities within demon weapons… however he proves to be an incredibly capricious soul to resonate with (swinging between unremarkable and totally incompatible) and being an even worse partner, his hardheadedness often getting in the way. exhibits some mastery of soul menace. despite his talents, he keeps an astoundingly low profile within the academy.

guts -> demon machine gun: a cumbersome and destructive weapon, but pretty simple when you actually think about it. shocking to most, he’s not a challenge to synchronize with at all (accredited to his person’s stability and predictability) — however outside of presented circumstances required for partnerships, he’s not that chummy. a bit of a problem child in regards to his grades and performance, but he’s def not the worst weapon out there at least.

lola -> bat meister: a simple and unruly weapon for a straightforward gal ❤️ another fellow user of soul menace, however she’s a lot less lethal than chase is… however she makes up for a lot of that through quick wits and a great deal of force (and technique, don’t worry). pretty adaptable for a meister, however it’s easy to fall out of sync with her if ur not paying enough attention to her beat.

❤️ RED HEART - their love language(s)?

chase -> service, quality time

guts -> service, gift-giving

lola -> affirmation, physical touch

💙 BLUE HEART - do they miss their s/o easily? how do they act when their s/o isn't around?

chase -> no not really 🥲 he acts pretty much the same when his partner isn’t around — regardless of whether he’s with ppl he likes or not, the change isn’t all that grand aside from some minor shift in how sociable he is? aka if he’s with his s/o then he’s a little more willing to entertain their conversations, but if it’s anyone else then it’s more like talking to a scarecrow.

guts -> not easily, but he can get worried? if they’re away for a time-frame longer than like… 2 weeks, then he has a mild tendency to zone out briefly before he snaps back (and slips back in), but after that 3 weeks mark he should be largely functional and normal again. he’s the same as chase in terms of being unsociable and mildly intimidating, except he’s much more… awkward without his s/o as a buffer.

lola -> sure, if you could call it missing them? as affectionate as she is, she’s not incredibly clingy. she’s curious about them, maybe misses a few hugs here and there, and of course she’s keeping them in her thoughts, but if they’re not gonna be missing for months on end or something… what loss is there to mourn exactly? modern technology exists, she could just call them! she’s exactly the same without her s/o around, however you can bet that there isn’t a single chance she’ll skip out on mentioning her s/o.

💔 BROKEN HEART - what could their partner do that would absolutely break their heart?

chase -> let him down: he’s not the type to entrust his faith so freely, even if he should trust them. it hurts all the more when someone close to him begins to falter and fall through the bare minimum of expectations he set on them. it’s nothing to make him break down in tears but it makes him shut them out a lot harsher than before.

guts -> sell him out: ok this ones a bit hard to pinpoint but for the most part he does Not care what happens to him to a certain point but the moment it registers that he’s been used (and is still being used) and is considered expendable. smth abt that, he still prolly won’t find the heart to leave but it still hurts him. smth abt how the finn family has ways of making its rounds back into his life even if his partner is entirely unaffiliated :,)

lola -> demean her: she’s got tough skin but a line that she refuses to have crossed is in regards to her personhood. she is not to be coerced, devalued, or shrunken! she’ll take plenty of pointed jokes, but the moment those ‘jokes’ get way too comfortable about how dumb or useless she is, or how bratty or bimbo-ish she is — she’s gonna have a few choice words with her partner about respect ^_^ (🤭)

#twst #twisute oc #twisted oc #thank u for da indulge of allowing me asking like a mad mani learn so much today #love da range goes from no we won't prolly do that to lola my love screaming on top of her lungs WELL I SURE WOULD #n i love her for that ya know?????#BUT BRO LOLA 🤝🤝 HATING THE WHOLE BABY GIRL THING LIKE BRO HOLD ON THIS IS A SERIOUS UNNECESSARY RANT-#but ocs/characters using it no no thats not what im against IM AGAINST IRL USING IT ILL CHOKE U anyways-#bro theres so much food brain is so full i want to comment on everything yet know ill miss smt like like god thank u i love this lore dump #im so happy watch me read this like 5 time a week for no reason im just a simp I MEAN-#like like lola i legit appreciate your whole character is smt i feel media lack like sure she a party girl n to a stend a bimbl but do not #dismiss her and hwr achievement #of her strengths and will she will not stop n you will not stop her do not think her friendliness is naivety:))#guts #i can't with him i know him at this point LIKE NOT IN THE SENCE OF I KNOW OF ALL OF HIM BUT U KNOW IS LIKE IT SHOULDN'T SUPRISE ME WHAT I #READ (DISCLAIMER: IM STILL ACTING LIKE IS MY FIRST TIME MEETING THIS MAN N GOING FUCK I LIKE HIM HES MY TYPE)#especially when we reach the part of cutting people off im happy im very zooming in on chase n lola being like ya no fuck off #when needed #but guys just not being able too bcuz of cowardice is like pulling strings on me bcuz i love that trope so much too guys pls cut it off ha #ur so sexy anyways-#chase a manace(affectionately)#MY RESPONSE IS SO LACKING FOR HIM BUT BRAIN STILL BUFFERING LIKE DAMN...damn hes good fuck what a good character hold on what is smt good i #can write back to this beautiful essay...damn fuck can only scream at it SO THAT I WILL DO THEN #SHAKWS HIM VIOLENTLY C H A SE U ARE 😩🤌🤤MUY RICO #VERY I WILL NOT STOP THIS TRAIN MAN MAYBE I WILL THINK ABOUT IT BUT I WON'T #me: yeh no okay hold on let me this easy for you /actively makes the train goes faster #take that as you will #my take of way from this? i love it thank u so much again ik i didn't say much regarding everything but pls note #i read everything prolly will read it again bcuz i wanna make sure i have everything ON MY BRAIN #aside from that... mhm one specific answer got me mhm guts🤤 n now...hes here( derogatory)

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sundaysundaes · 4 years ago

Text

Started With A Kiss

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Actor AU, Smut, Fluff, Humor | NC-17 | 10K

Summary: Rookie actor, Lee Haechan, desperately wants to get the lead role in the highly anticipated upcoming TV drama. He’s sure he has what it takes to fill the part. Acting as a hero? No problem. Pretending to overcome his traumatic experience? Consider it done. A bed scene? Easy—wait, no. That might be a problem. But he should be fine as long as he gets to rehearse, right?

Warnings: protected sex, oral sex, crude humor, swearing, literally 10k of sex with very little plot, a lot of playful banters between sassy!hyuck and equally sassy!Y/N

Wrote this for my love Kira @flopim who’s been having a tough time lately. I hope this will cheer you up bb! ❤️

“I want you to make love to me.”

Standing there, still dressed in your bright pink pajamas with your hair resembling a bird’s nest, you can only blink once, twice, and several times more because surely, your ears are playing tricks on you. There’s no way that your best friend, the cutely annoying and annoyingly cute, Lee Haechan—the one who’s been practically glued to your skin like a conjoined twin of yours for the last two years—is asking you to make love to him.

Surely, this is not what you’d expected to see when you opened the door to your apartment, ready to bark at whoever it was who dared to disturb your beauty sleep (since it is seven in the morning on a Sunday), only to see him standing in his blue ripped jeans and black Michael Jackson shirt with his cheeks flushed, his bag hanging loosely on his shoulder, brown eyes desperately begging for your attention.

And you’re most definitely sure that he’s not asking you to sleep with him when you still have drool on the corner of your mouth and a terrible morning breath (in your defense, you have brushed your teeth but that was, like, six hours ago).

But when seconds have passed and Haechan still looks like he badly needs to hear an answer, you have very little options but to ask, “You want me to do what to who now?”

Catching a sniff of your mighty dragon’s breath, he promptly takes a step back, scrunching his nose while frantically covering half of his face with the script he’s been holding. “Eew, God, what is that smell?” Ignoring your glare, he repeats his words, voice muffled by the papers. “I said, I want you to make love to me.”

“What—”

“Damn it, woman, just brush your teeth and let me in!”

When he’s stomping his feet while whining that loudly—loud enough for your fucking landlord to hear, along with everybody else in the building (including your cute neighbor, Jaehyun, oh dear God, no), he doesn’t give you any other choice but to invite him in, does he?

You step away from the door, flatly muttering, “Please, come in, why don’t you.” Haechan doesn’t waste any second waiting, making sure to run and stay as far away as possible from you so he won’t inhale the poisonous air that’s tainted with your breath again.

You roll your eyes. Dramatic little shit. But just to be on the safe side, you make your way to the bathroom.

***

The scalding hot shower you just took was comforting but not enough to wash your entire drowsiness away. You’re in dire need of your caffeine intake. “Would you like some coffee, my king?” You ask between a yawn, hands finding their way to the coffee jar on your kitchen counter.

Haechan throws his bag to the floor, body sinking into the comfort of your couch. “With milk, please.”

"I’m kidding.”

“Well, I’m not.” He throws one of those cheeky grins that you adore—no, wait, you hate—as he settles his legs on your coffee table. “Less sugar but more milk. I’m still growing.”

“Growing what, your balls?” You pour him a cup of coffee as requested, yes, because to balance his demonic behavior, you have to act like the perfect angel that you are. “Since you don’t have any?”

“You mean, like your boyfriend?” Haechan retorts before he gasps dramatically, his palm going to his mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry, you don’t have a boyfriend.”

You hover above him from behind the couch, bringing two mugs filled with sizzling hot coffee. “Want to repeat that?” You tip your mug just a little bit until it nearly spills on his forehead.

Haechan winces, attempting to grin. “I’m sorry, I love you, please don’t ruin my face. It’s the only thing that’s good about me.”

“It surely is.”

“Yah, what does that mean?”

“Take it as a compliment.”

Sitting next to him, you sip your coffee and curse silently when the liquid burns your tongue. “Okay, so what about this ‘make love to me’ thing you said earlier? Please tell me it’s just a figure of speech or something.”

“I wish.” He drags his legs away from the table so he can lay his cup down because apparently, he means business. “Okay, I know you’re gonna kill me after you hear—”

“After? I’m about to kill you now, actually.” You scoff. “Don’t you remember what we’ve agreed on? You cannot bother me when I’m still too sleepy to smack you in the head, Haechannie.”

“When did we ever—” He stops. “Why are you going to smack me in the head?”

“‘Cause you’ll say something stupid.”

“Who says I’m gonna say something stupid?”

“You always say something stupid. You’re saying something stupid now!”

“It’s not stupid.” He sighs exasperatedly but when your flat, degrading stare comes into view, it morphs into a groan. “Well, not that stupid. I’ve thought about this—really thought about it—and I can’t find anyone else to do this but you since you’re the only girl I’m friends with. I mean, I can pick random girls, I suppose—you know how popular I am. They just can’t stop talking about me. My hair, my eyes—”

“—your tiny dick.”

“But I don’t want to break any girl’s heart by doing something that’s gonna make them feel like I’m just using them to get a job, you know? I know I’m hot but these good looks aren’t meant to trample people’s hearts.”

“And you don’t care how I’m gonna feel?”

He has the decency to act like he’s thinking about it, but then, “No, not really.”

“Thanks.”

“Look, I really need your help.” He takes it as further as holding your hand between his, puckering his pouty lips, and blinking his eyes in a way that’s cute enough to leave you in daze so you pretend like you’re about to vomit your insides to cover it up.

Okay, so there’s one thing—one little thing that nobody knows—that you’re too ashamed to admit and that is the fact that you have a massive crush on this boy who sits in front of you with his socks unmatched. Well, no, not massive. It used to be massive during the first few weeks you knew him. How could you not? Haechan was so cute, you wanted to turn him into a doll so you could carry him around in your backpack and squish his cheeks whenever you feel like it. Sure, he’s not all jawlines and dimples like that neighbor of yours (Jung Jaehyun was probably sculpted by God himself ), but Haechan has his own charms. His devilish smirk, his loud, contagious laughter, his naughty eyebrow raise, and his lips—God, his beautiful plump lips, the way they look so pouty and soft. Honestly, you can write a whole essay about his attractive features (not that you haven’t already).

You knew you were crazy for him when the antics he did annoyed the hell out of his friends but to you, he was just plain adorable. And you realized you were pretty much fucked-up when Jeno said, “Fucking Lee Donghyuck said he forgot his wallet and robbed me this morning. Who the fuck orders a freakin’ wagyu steak for breakfast?!” and the only thing you could think of was how nice it was to go on a date with him and how your first kiss with him was going to be like (poor Jeno, though).

It’s not that you love him or anything. It’s mostly physical, nothing more—at least for now anyway. It’s not your fault that he’s so fucking pretty that he ends up showing every now and then in your fantasy, doing indescribable naughty things that will definitely make Mark splash some holy water on your face if he knew what was going on in your head.

Fortunately, now that you’ve been friends with him for two years, that massive crush you had has turned into something normal, something you can easily hide. And can be forgotten even, whenever another cute guy—like Na Jaemin, for example—takes you out on a date or two. It’s easier to breathe these days.

“Hello? Are you there?” Haechan snaps his fingers, waking you up from your reverie. “What’s your answer? Do you want to make love to me or not?”

‘It’s easier to breathe these days?’ More like fucking kill me.

“Can you stop saying that?” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You’re giving me headaches.” Or a heart attack, more accurately. “Assume I said yes. Don’t you think it’s gonna get a little weird between us?”

“What is so weird about it?” He throws his hands in the air, exhausted and impatient. “It’s just gonna be two friends, pretending to be in love with each other, hugging, kissing, touching, and having sweet, tender sex.” Realization falls upon him and you resist the urge to exhale loudly. “Yeah, okay, so it is a little weird, but it should be fine, right? It’s just acting. It’s not like you have any feelings for me, do you?”

If by feelings you mean picturing you naked in my head with your mouth sucking on my neck, then yeah, I do have feelings for you. Plenty of that. But on the outside, you say, “Eew, God, no.”

Haechan squints his eyes at your response. “Can’t say I’m not hurt with the way you said it, but eew, God, no to you too. Well, if that’s the case then I’m sure we’ll be fine,” he says, sipping his coffee, and retracts his mouth as soon as the flavor hits his tongue. “What the hell is this?! Did you spit on my coffee or something?”

You didn’t but for your amusement, you throw him a sly grin. “A little.” It’s satisfying to see him looking like he’s about to pass out. “I’m still worried how it’s gonna affect our friendship later on though.”

He simply shrugs. “Meh. We’re not really that close to begin with anyway.” He takes another sip of his coffee by accident and nearly vomits for real. “Fucking hell—take this shit out of my face.”

“I'm still not sure about this, Haechannie.”

“Look, I don’t know why it’s such a big deal to you, we’re just going to pretend! Acting!” He exclaims as if that was the most normal thing a friend could ask another friend. “And you’re gonna be acting out a love scene with someone as hot as me. Consider yourself lucky.”

“Consider yourself dead.”

“Damn it, my audition is in two days and I really want to get this role!” He’s whining, tugging at your hand like a baby as he practically throws himself at your feet, graveling for your mercy. “You’re the only one who can help me with this. How can I act properly if I don’t have enough experience to perform a freaking bed scene?!”

“I don’t think actors who have to play dead have enough experience of, you know, being dead.”

“Excellent point.” Haechan stares at you blankly, unimpressed. “Do you hear yourself when you talk?”

“Do you?”

A few seconds passed by in silence with the two of you exchanging sinister glares until he finally surrenders with a prominent pout on his face. “Fine, if you don’t want to.” Haechan exhales dramatically, his shoulders sagging and when you don’t respond, he sighs again only louder this time. “I guess, I have to force Mark to make out with me. Again.” He sneaks a glance to see your reaction. “And have my face slapped with a Bible. Again.”

You wince at the thought. “How did you force him, exactly?”

“Just…” He timidly scratches his nose. “Kinda attacked him in his sleep.”

You nod in understanding even when it’s the most idiotic thing you’ve ever heard. “Well, maybe he would’ve been fine with it if you had taken him out for a nice dinner before that.”

Haechan smiles a little at your words, and even a little glimpse of it is contagious enough to make your own spread wider on your face. Small chuckles resonate through the air and he playfully bumps his shoulder against yours, his palm resting on your knuckles.

“On a more serious note,” Haechan says, “I know that asking you to rehearse a bed scene with me is too much and way out of line. But I swear, I’m not gonna touch you if you’re so uncomfortable with it. Won’t even hold your hand, I promise.” Then he notices he’s still holding your hand from earlier. He drops it immediately, clearing his throat. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” It’s more than fine. His hand seems to fit yours in a way that nobody ever does but there’s no way you’re gonna tell him that. “So, we’re just gonna be practicing lines?”

“Exactly.” He rubs his nape, suddenly a bit bashful. “Well, I was hoping to at least kiss you—just to, you know, know how it’d feel like.”

“You’ve never kissed before?”

“I have, obviously.” He rolls his eyes, disgusted at your question. “I’m not a fucking virgin if that’s what you’re assuming.”

“Chill, don’t get your panties in a twist. Nah, I know you’re not a virgin from how many times you’ve had sex with yourself.”

“Hey!”

“But then, why do you need to practice? Can’t you just go straight to your castmates, and kiss the bejeezus out of them?”

Donghyuck runs a hand through his face. “It’s… I’ve never done it for a role,” he professes, faint blush blooming on his cheeks, “And the scene is supposed to be intimate and I’ve never… You know…”

You gesture at him to clarify more with your hands. “You’ve never…?”

“You know…” The color on his face turns brighter. “T-the thing.”

“What thing? Never made-out in public? Never had sex outdoor?” You act clueless just because you’re liking his reaction. “Never had a finger stuck in your ass? What? Please do enlighten me.”

“I’ve never been in love, you witch!” Haechan is adorable when he’s fuming. Nostrils blaring, eyebrows knitting together in an angry frown, scarlet cheeks all puffed out. He looks like a terribly pissed Pomeranian.

Man, if I could just take a picture. “Oh, okay. So have you had your finger stuck in your ass?”

“I swear to God—”

“Kidding. I know you have.” But even when Haechan is nearly ripping your cheeks apart from your face, your giggles are never-ending. “So, you’re nervous?” You snort, raising an eyebrow. “You, the obnoxious, desperate-for-attention Lee Haechan, are nervous?”

“Will you help me out or not?!”

You pretend like you’re contemplating about it when truth is, every part of your body and mind is just screaming what the heck are you waiting for? He’s asking you to rehearse a bed scene—a. bed. scene! And he said he wanted to kiss you, for God’s sake! So, really, what else is there to say but “Okay.”

Haechan widens his eyes. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You try your best to appear nonchalant. “But you’ll owe me a favor. A huge one.”

“Anything,” he instantly agrees, “As long as I’m not dead, you have my words.”

You’re not yet sure what you’re planning to ask him but seeing his enthusiasm, you know it’s going to be good. “Great. So, umm, do you want to do it now or…?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“Here?”

“Wherever you want.”

“Man, you’re giving me too much power. I should’ve agreed to this way sooner.” You can practically feel your face splitting in half from how wide you’re grinning. “My room, then? I mean, a bed scene requires… a bed, right?”

Haechan laughs and even after two years, it still sounds like your most favorite thing in the world. “No, it doesn’t necessarily require a bed but sure.” He jumps out from the couch, taking you by the hand, and only by that, you can already feel your heart thumping a tad faster. But the second he walks into your room, he makes a face. “Why does it smell like something died in here?”

“Because something did die. Your dignity.”

The tickling fight doesn’t occur very often between you and Lee Haechan but once it starts, it means war.

***

“Okay, so…” Haechan hands you the script, already opened to show you a page filled with dialogues and short narratives. He scoots closer on the bed, his knee a few inches away from grazing yours as they dangle from the edge. “Just from the top of the page, here.” He points with his finger and you do a quick scan, trying to get a picture of the intimate scene you’re going to do. “So, a quick summary. Your character, Aeri, has been in love with my character, Donghyun. In the earlier scene, you’ve confessed your love to me but I rejected you because we’ve been friends for so long and I didn’t want to ruin what we have. But then, later on, some things happened and I ended up catching feelings for you and this is the part where I’m gonna be telling you how I really feel and then we start kissing and—”

“Then we have sex,” you utter in dismay, but butterflies are erupting from your stomach due to the anticipation.

“No,” Haechan corrects you, “We make love.”

“Is there any difference?”

“There are more feelings involved, not just out of sheer passion. It’s slower. Tender. Intimate.” And when he notices you raising a questioning brow at him, he sighs. “That thing you did with Jaemin? Fucking like bunnies? The opposite of that.”

You mock him by imitating his sigh exaggeratedly and receiving a flick on the nose in return. “Is it just me or is the script pretty lousy?”

He nods. “But they’ll pay you good money for this.”

“I thought the reason you became an actor was to create art not money.”

“When I’m rich, maybe. Right now, I gotta pay for my rent. And apparently, Jeno keeps chasing my ass, forcing me to pay him back. It was just a wagyu steak for fuck’s sake.” He grumbles to himself, momentarily distracted. “Anyway,” he cracks his neck, “I’ve memorized my lines. Wanna give it a go?”

“Okay, let’s try. I guess I’ll be fine if it’s just kissing. Even if it’s with you.” When in reality you’re only agreeing to this because it’s with him.

Haechan’s eyes gleam brighter, ears practically perking up like an excited puppy. “Really?”

“You’re that excited at the thought of kissing me?” You play smug but you could practically hear your heartbeat blasting through your ears. “What else have you been thinking about me?”

“I’m not excited at the thought of kissing you, dumbass,” he spits back, the spark in his eyes vanishes in an instant. “I’m excited that finally I can practice kissing scenes with someone who’s actually willing to do it, and not, you know, like with the back of my hand or something.”

“You…” Failing to hold back a grin, you burst out laughing. “You made out with your hand?”

It’s funny that even when his skin is golden as if it was kissed by the sun, it still shows vividly on his face whenever he blushes. “I didn’t mean it literally—”

“I can’t believe you made out with your hand.”

“Would you just—” He nearly suffocates you with your pillow but you quickly retaliate by kicking him in the stomach.

Tears are prickling at the corner of your eyes. “Man, that mental image of yours making out with your hand will live in my mind rent-free for as long as I live.” When you still can’t stop laughing, Haechan is practically baring his teeth. “Okay, I’m sorry. Let’s get this going. If it gets too uncomfortable for me, I’ll stop.”

“Of course.”

“At any time I want.”

“Your call.” He nods in agreement with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen him do; it almost doesn’t seem like him.

“Good,” you say. “Now, I’ve never acted once in my life so if you laugh at me, I will sneak into your room at night and pour hot coffee on your computer.”

There’s fear fleeting through his eyes but he gives another nod. “Deal.”

“All right…” You take a deep breath, willing your heart to stop hammering against your ribcages, and for once, focus more on the script instead of the shape of his pretty, pretty mouth. “What are you doing here?” You follow the script, voice a little bit shaky as you’re still embarrassed with everything you’re doing. Haechan closes his eyes and you’re about to throw a joke to tease him about actor Haechan coming alive but when he opens them and gazes at you, you sit still, frozen.

“I wanted to see you,” he says, voice so delicate, it startles you. He’s so serious about this that you don’t find the strength within you to tease him like how you usually do. Somehow, the little gestures he makes, the changes in his expression alter the air along with the tension in the room. Suddenly, it feels like you’re standing next to him under the spotlight, hundreds of pairs of eyes following your every movement.

“It’s—” You swallow your breath, tongue lays heavy in your mouth. “It's pouring outside, why are you—”

“I love you,” he vocalizes, his eyes gentle and heartbroken. His voice suddenly sounds a pitch lower, reverberating through the air until it sends goosebumps to the tiny hairs on your nape. He waits for your reply and you have to blink twice to slap yourself back to reality.

“W-what?”

“I’m sorry it took me this long to realize, but I do. I’m in love with you, hopelessly so.” He reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. Though he has pretty hands, his fingertips are not as soft as you had imagined them to be, but they feel better, feel real. His warmth is unfamiliar to your skin but it feels more pleasant than anything that ever touches you. “Maybe you’re unaware of this, but it kills me to know that I’ve hurt you because I simply couldn’t be brave enough to accept my feelings. The reason why I didn’t want us to be together was because I didn’t want to ruin what we have, not knowing that we could be something more.”

Haechan’s lines fit your situation so much that you wish he wasn’t acting. It’s amazing how he’s changing into an entirely different persona and yet, it feels so natural as if he has been that person all along. Your breathing gets heavier as you take a brief look at the script, searching for your lines. “This feels unreal…”

“Do you still love me?” Haechan lifts your face by the chin, his touch is paper-thin.

You wet your lips, head swirling. “But Donghyun—”

“Do you still love me?” He repeats, emphasizing with his tone. His eyes are peering into yours and you wonder maybe the quote eyes deeper than the sea refers to his gaze. “Or is it too late for me?” His thumb drifts to your lip, caressing your bottom one, your lip balm sticking to his skin.

“I do,” you reply. He’s so pretty. You’ve never taken a glance longer than a few seconds at his close-up face, but now that you’re in this close proximity, you can finally witness the two tiny moles on his cheek, the beautiful shape of his dark eyes, the delicate curve of his lips… “I do love you, Donghyuck.”

A few seconds of silence hangs in the air when Haechan stops, his eyebrows furrowing. “Umm—it’s Donghyun, actually.”

Fuck! “Right!” You nearly leap out of your bed, face aflame. “Donghyun! Of course! I don’t know why I said that. Donghyuck is your name, I know that—” Fuck, fuck, fuck, just fucking kill me. “Sorry, umm—nervous.”

Fortunately for you, Haechan buys your bluff. “Rookie mistake,” he chuckles and you exaggeratedly roll your eyes to play along. “Okay, let’s start over. Do you still love me?”

“I do,” you respond too rigidly, making him glance away so he won’t break into laughter. “I do love you, Donghyun. Dong-Hyun.”

“Good,” he improvises, as it’s not written in the script. He has a tiny smile on his face and you like to think that it’s just him doing a terrible job at hiding his amusement. But when he swats your bangs out of your eyes, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, he seems like he’s seeing the most beautiful thing he has ever seen in his whole life. The adoration in his eyes, his loving gaze—they are so vivid, they nearly consume you. “Because I don’t think I can resist this any longer…”

You’re lost in his eyes, lost in his touch, lost in his warmth. It’s until Haechan nudges his head slightly, indicating you to wake up, you’ve got a line to say, that you jolt, eyes hurriedly going down to the script, seeking your lines. “Umm—“ You flinch. You sound so jittery, it’s terrible. “R-resist what…?”

But Haechan doesn’t pay a mind that you just stuttered from saying two words. He doesn’t ask you to start over. Instead, he presses his forehead against yours, his breath mingling in the air and you can taste the scent of sandalwood and summer. Combined with his soft breathing, you’re almost stuck in a haze, just reeling in the feeling of how this man is now closer to you than he has ever been in the past two years and it’s better than anything you’ve ever imagined.

“Resist this,” he whispers and before you can look down to check whether you have more lines to say, Haechan dips his head, his lips brushing against yours, ever so faintly at first but when you gasp, he presses harder, framing your cheeks with both hands before he moves one down to your waist. Unlike his fingertips, his lips are soft—softer than silk or the cotton candy he once bought you. But it’s not the way they feel or the way he tastes that distract you the most. It’s the way he moves them, parting his lips slightly so he can blend with yours, your lower lip fits perfectly between his plump ones. It’s the way he sighs, so contentedly, as if kissing you was everything he ever wanted.

You close your eyes, hands reaching up to his collar, wanting to feel him more, wanting to touch him—

Haechan breaks away, placing both hands on your shoulders. “How was it?”

You’ve never had someone splash cold water on your face but you figure it might feel something like this. Your voice grows hoarse when you speak. “How was what?”

“The kiss!” Haechan’s eyes are filled with concern, analyzing your expression. “Was it romantic enough? Tender enough? Did it properly convey the desperation and longing my character feels for yours?”

You knew this was a bad idea. You fucking knew it. So, why are you still hurt when he acts like he feels exactly nothing by that kiss? This is just an acting lesson for him. You should have been prepared.

“It’s good,” you answer, averting your gaze and hiding your eyes behind your bangs. Your heart is still running a thousand miles an hour but somehow, it doesn’t feel as pleasant as before. “So, next scene—”

“Wait, are you okay?” Haechan asks, bending slightly to catch a glimpse of your face. “Was it too much? Do you want to stop?”

Truth is, you’re conflicted. You’re going to catch feelings—you most likely already are. But Haechan only treats you as a friend and nothing more, and this is the only chance you have to be this close to him. The temptation of continuing the kiss, to just hold him close for one more time, stands stronger than anything else so you say, “No. I promised you I’d help.”

He’s still unsure, eyes glinting in concern. “It’s okay if you want to stop, I—”

“Let’s just do the damn scene, Donghyuck.”

Haechan freezes on his seat, eyes searching yours as you now have the bravery to look at his face. Knowing you came on too strong, you try to ease it off with a smile. “I’m fine, don’t worry. It’s just my first time doing this—acting, I mean. Can we try again?”

He spends another few seconds trying to decipher the true meaning behind your smile but eventually nods his head at your command. He drags his finger back to the script. “Then, umm… Let’s start from here?”

You don’t even look at the page when you give affirmation. “Go.”

Haechan takes a moment to prepare himself and when your eyes meet each other again, he’s a different person once more. “The reason why I didn’t want us to be together was because I didn’t want to ruin what we have, not knowing that we could be something more.” His voice is so soothing, you almost forget that deep down you’re immensely upset knowing that the kiss didn’t have the same effects on him.

This time, when he frames your face with his palm, you lean into his touch, eyes never leaving his. “This feels unreal,” you say and for a second—just for a split second—you notice Haechan breaking out of character, surprised by the gentle expression on your face. Because you’re not acting out his script, you’re acting out on your feelings. It’s your only chance to be honest with him without forcing him to respond. So you pour all these feelings you have for him out in the open—ones that started from a mere physical attraction to something more as his presence grew bigger in your life, you’re acting out each and every one of them.

“Do…” He inhales sharply, trying to focus. “Do you still love me?” He’s doing the same thing as before, placing his thumb and index finger on your chin but before he can say his lines, you see how his eyes fall on your lips.

And you kiss him. You kiss him with everything you have, hands going to his face, fingers slipping between his strands, and Haechan gasps against your mouth, his fingers curling around your wrist. You know he’s about to push you away so you quickly murmur, “I do,” against his lips, breath stuttering, “I do love you.”

When you take his bottom lip between yours, teeth grazing against his supple skin, Haechan lets out an involuntary moan at the back of his throat. The butterflies in your stomach come alive, pumping a rush of adrenaline through your veins and suddenly, you’re brave enough to glide your tongue across his lip. His hold tightens around your wrist but instead of pushing you away, he tugs you closer and you fall into his chest, hands breaking free from his grip to wind around his neck. Your fingertips are scraping against his nape before they move upward to yank at the roots of his hair. “Fuck,” he breathes out, almost inaudibly, as if he didn’t mean to let the word slip from his mouth and it makes your heart jumps straight out of your chest. The second he responds properly, Haechan kisses like fire, all passion and urgency, and you really don’t mind being consumed by his flames.

His hands are on your waist, pulling you closer and closer until you’re almost sitting on his lap before he jolts awake, pushing you away so abruptly, you almost fall from the bed.

“I’m—We—” he stammers, looking everywhere but your eyes. His cheeks are flushed, his lips bruised and red from your kisses. “I think we should—I gotta go—“

He stands up from the bed like the sheets are catching on fire, picking his script from the floor and gathering all his belongings at once before he runs toward the door. He turns on his heels, wanting to say something to fix the goddamn situation, but when his eyes land on yours, his words vanish without a trace.

“I—I’ll call you later,” he finally says and doesn’t wait for your response. The front door closes with a thud.

And then silence comes to answer.

What just happened?

Your heart is thundering inside your chest, you’re starting to feel nauseous. What have I done? You keep asking over and over. You thought everything was going to be fine. He responded to your kiss earlier, didn’t he? You were sure you didn’t imagine the whole thing. But now he’s gone and you’re not sure whether he’s gonna come back as the same Haechan—the old, bratty but caring Lee Haechan. The one who snickers loudly when you fall face-first on the ground but always steals secret glances at you to make sure you're not hurt. The one who makes jokes about your love life but never forgets to show up at your apartment with a thoughtful gift right at the minute you turn a year older.

Things are not just gonna get awkward, they’re ruined.

When nearly half an hour has passed by and you’re still left alone in your apartment with no signs of him coming back, you’re about to go insane. You can’t stay still, walking back and forth your living room with the tip of your thumb between your teeth.

Should I chase after him and explain that it was just me trying to improvise? You hesitate with your hand lingering on the doorknob. But with your knees nearly giving up under your weight, you decide to stay put. It will probably just gonna make it worse. He’ll see through my lies, he always does.

You’re straying away to the kitchen, hands placed on the counter. You can feel your head spinning, stomach somersaulting. Damn it, why did I have to do that?! Why couldn’t I just—

The front door slams opened and Haechan barges in with his hair messy, ruffled by the wind, and his bangs sticking to his temple. Stunned, you stand still on your ground. Your heart is the only one that’s moving beyond control. His eyes scan your apartment until they land on yours and for an instant, everything seems to fade away.

“Fuck it,” he says, dropping his bag to the ground and making his way towards you in such a hurry, he nearly trips over his feet. “You’re not that good of an actor to be faking it.” Before you have the chance to even take a breath, Haechan’s lips are smashing against yours.

“Hae—” Haechan’s kiss is insane. So forceful that you can barely keep up, taking every bit of air directly from your lungs. He has you backed against the kitchen counter, the marbled edge digging into your skin. His hands frame your face, sliding against your cheek until they cup the backsides of your neck, his thumbs resting against your ears. You curl your fingers around his wrist, gasping, “Wait—”

He pulls away, lifting your face so you can’t bring your gaze anywhere else. “You like me?” His eyes are just as intense, begging for answers. “Please tell me I’m not imagining this.”

But behind that passion, his confidence is wavering. You can tell by his quivering breath, the little tremble running through his fingertips, and at that, you’re drowning in relief. You don’t think he’s that good of an actor to be faking this too.

“I do,” you admit, heart pounding so loudly that you can barely hear your own voice. “I like—”

His mouth is on yours again and it feels like he’s kissing you in a hundred different places at once. “Jesus Christ, why have you kept quiet about this for so long?” he says, tasting your breath and skin at the same time. “Two fucking years. We wasted two fucking years.”

The words this isn’t happening endlessly run through your head but all your senses scream that Haechan is really here, in your arms, his nails clawing against your shirt and there’s nothing left you want from this world.

When you reciprocate to him properly, your palms sliding up his chest, over his shoulder, until your arms circle his neck, Haechan sighs in content. His kisses grow slower—more relaxed—but deeper, his tongue peeking out shyly at first but not for long. He still tastes faintly like the coffee you made and something else entirely different. Something pleasant that’s just exactly how you’ve fantasized him to be, if not more.

He pulls away to catch his breath with his eyes still focusing on your lips, thumb rubbing your lower one. “Does this feel weird to you?” He whispers, his temple pressing against yours.

You’re intoxicated by his sweet scent though you’re not sure whether it’s the smell of his shampoo, his cologne, or just him altogether. “No,” and as soon as the word comes out, his lips are chasing after yours once more.

“Good, ‘cause I don’t think I can stop.” He’s breathing heavily against your mouth as you are against his. With his fingers twisted in your hair, making a messy ponytail out of it, Haechan peppers open-mouthed kisses on your neck, tongue pressing against your pulsating vein and a whimper escapes your mouth.

Your dreams, your fantasies—they all fall pale in comparison to reality. When you vocalize his name, it almost sounds like a plead and Haechan slants his mouth back on yours again, giving you another taste as he is not satisfied with yours just yet. “Your lips taste amazing,” he breathes out and it’s so quiet, it seems like he’s intending to say the words in his head and not with his mouth. But as his words fall on your ears, they send tingles down your spine.

“So do yours,” you reply, attempting to make him blush in return but if he does, he doesn’t show much. “Never pegged you as a man who wears lip balm.”

You can feel his smirk directly with your skin. “I’m not wearing any.”

“You’re not?” You lightly giggle, swiping your tongue across his lower lip. “Then your lips do taste amazing.”

Haechan’s hand is slipping underneath your shirt, fingers hovering above your bra. “Guess there are still a lot of things you don’t know about me, huh?”

“I’ve got a hunch you’re about to teach me?”

“Only if you’re eager to learn.”

The kiss becomes heavier that you’re lost for words, entirely consumed by his passion, until he breaks away, muttering, “Off, off, off, off, off,” as he struggles to tear the fabric away from your body. You titter at his desperation, raising both hands to help him out of his misery. The second it’s off, he lifts you by the waist and places you down on the counter.

“I’m amazed you could lift me,” you coo, admiring the sight of his lean stomach as he pulls his shirt over his head. His silver necklace hangs loosely around his neck and you hook a finger around it to yank him back to you.

He doesn’t seem to be able to detach his lips from yours for too long, especially when you keep sneaking glances at his. So when he speaks again, his every word is painted directly to your skin. “It wasn’t easy.” He settles between your thighs, mouth latching against your collarbone. “You weigh a ton.”

“Yeah?” You bite your lip, holding back a moan as he sucks bruises on your neck, the edge of his fingers trailing over the seam of your bra. “Then you must be so strong.”

“I am, haven’t you noticed?” Haechan pulls away just to showcase a mischievous grin. “I work out, you know.”

You blurt out laughing. It’s not solely because of the mental image of Lee Haechan—a full-time gamer, Lee Haechan—doing push-ups seems so funny to you. It’s more about the way he wiggles his eyebrow, trying to be sexy about it when you know he’s the weakest one in your group. Flustered at your reaction, he flicks your nose. “What is so funny?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize though it doesn’t seem that much sincere with the way you’re still giggling at him. “It’s just that an hour ago we were two friends making fun of each other and now we’re here, in this position. I don’t know, it just feels surreal to me.”

An adorable pout blooms on his face. “I thought you said this didn’t feel weird.”

“No, it’s perfect. I want this.” You wrap the end of his necklace twice around your index finger. “I want you. It’s just… I’ve been imagining this to happen for such a long time and now that it’s happening, I’m feeling a lot of things at once.” You place a reassuring kiss on his temple. “I’m nervous.” This time landing one on his cheek. “I’m relieved.” When your lips hover above his, you notice him parting his own slightly in anticipation. “And it feels so good, I don’t ever want to stop. Even if that means we can’t go back to being friends.”

Haechan can’t form a response as you don’t let him, your mouth swallowing the tiny moans he emits. “We’ll talk about that later,” he hastily replies, “I still haven’t had enough of you yet.”

Without warning, he lifts you off the counter, making you yelp and wrap your legs around his waist for support. “Haechannie!” With you holding onto him, he takes a step forward, ignoring your call. “Where are you taking me—"

“Wait, no, back pain, back pain.” Both of you nearly tumble down to the ground from how he’s harshly placing you back to your feet, wincing at the ache erupting from the strained muscles in his spine. He’s groaning in pain, massaging his back with both hands. “Fuck, you’re really heavy!”

“That’s no way to talk to a lady.” You throw your slipper at him, missing his head just a few inches, laughing all the way. “What exactly were you trying to do?”

“I was trying to move us to the couch.”

“All you had to do was ask.”

“I was trying to be sexy.” He juts out his lower lip, and it takes all control of your body to not squeeze his cheeks from how adorable he looks.

“Honey, you are sexy, believe me, but you’re also weak as fuck. Consider hitting the gym for real next time and then carry me.”

“Shut up,” he sighs, holding out a hand for you to take. “To the couch, please? And maybe a massage after this ‘cause my back is killing me.”

Shaking your head in amusement, you take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his and drag him over to the couch. He’s in the middle of asking, “Do you want me to be on top or—” when you push him down and straddle his lap without warning, legs tangling around his hips. “Oh, okay.”

You run a hand through his hair, pushing them back so you can witness the glow in his eyes. “You look sexier with your hair pushed back.” You love the way he stares at you, eyes half-lidded painted with lust and desire. And combined with your commentary, he now has his cheek tinted with red. “Do you have a problem with me being on top?”

His eyes quickly run down to the place where your denim shorts are riding up your thighs, your zipper pressing against his groin. With a noticeable gulp, he stutters out, “N-no.”

You smile, patting his cheek. “Good.”

The kiss starts slow as you focus more on moving your hands down his body. Haechan shivers a little when your palm is pressing against his bare chest, sliding down to his navel. When you pull back, raising a questioning brow at his reaction, he bashfully says, “Your hand’s cold,” looking like a nervous little boy who’s a stark contrast to how he usually behaves.

He’s so cute.

“Well, I know a way to warm you up.” You smirk, almost cringing when you hear your own words but Haechan seems to like it.

“Oooh,” he coos, grinning against your lips. “Are you offering what I think you’re offering?”

“I don’t know.” You kiss your way down from his jawline to his chest, pushing yourself off his lap so you can kneel on the floor, your fingers unbuckling his belt. “What do you think I’m offering?”

Haechan’s eyes are glowing with anticipation. He curves his fingers around the edge of his seat, wetting his lip nervously when you pull his zipper down. You release him from his boxer, stroking him to life and he sinks his nails further into the couch. A train of expletives breaks free from his mouth but he’s so quiet, you can only hear his ragged breathing.

But by the time you run your thumb over his slit, your hot breath hitting his sensitive skin, Haechan melts into a whimpering mess. “Please don’t tease,” he begs.

“I haven’t even started, Haechannie.” And he looks like he’s about to say something but it only turns into a mewl when you press a kiss to his tip. “You’re so cute,” you comment, and he shivers when the vibration of your voice meets his skin.

Haechan tries to act composed. “Of course I’m cute, it’s—”

You cut his line short by darting out your tongue, giving kitten licks at the side, smiling satisfyingly when his eyes meet yours. As you give him a little suck around his tip, he throws his head back, his lower lip between his teeth. “I—I said don’t tease.”

“I’m not teasing you.” But you are. How can you not? He looks so fucking cute. You’ve never really enjoyed giving head before, especially when your opponent gets rough and ends up pushing too deep until you gag. But with Haechan, you feel like you can do this for hours. He’s so nervous and shy, doesn’t even dare to place his hand on your hair, and his reaction to every bit of your action is honest even when his words aren’t.

“Here.” You take one of his hands, moving it to your head. “You can use me as much as you want.”

“Use—” he crumbles at your choice of words. When you suddenly envelop him with your mouth, moving from the tip to the base in one quick motion, Haechan instinctively grabs a handful of your hair, flinching. “Goddamn, why are you so fucking hot?”

You giggle, sliding his cock out of your mouth with an obscene pop. “Thanks.”

“No, I mean your mouth. It’s so fucking warm.”

“So, you’re saying,” you dip your tongue into his slit, eyes seductively peering into his. “I’m not hot?”

“You’re—Fuck, fuck—” Haechan seethes, hips buckling when you bob your head down again, tongue pressing against his veins. Shivers run through his fingertips when he slips them between your locks, pushing your fringe back to have a good look at your face. You catch a glimpse of him, his lips unconsciously moving to form words that you can’t hear. So pretty, he seems to say, and the thought of it makes your stomach lurch in delight. Taking him completely in your mouth, you hollow your cheeks, swallowing around him. He tightens his hold around your hair, cheeks flushed and you expect him to hold you in place so he can thrust against your mouth but what he does is pull you away. “Stop, stop, stop, stop.”

Wiping a string of saliva away with the back of your hand, you ask with a frown. “Something’s wrong?”

Haechan hides his reddening face behind his fingers, quietly answering, “I was about to come.”

You hold back a grin. With a nonchalant hum, you dip your head down again, this time engulfing him until he hits the back of your throat.

“Jesus Christ.” His sanity is deteriorating, he can feel it.

“Don’t bring Lord’s name when I have your dick in my mouth, Haechannie. Mark would kill you if he knew.”

“Fuck Mark. Come here.” He rushes forward, forcibly pulling you up with both hands clamping your arms. When you follow his order, settling back down on top of his lap, he confesses with his lips grazing against the shell of your ear. “I really won’t last long if you keep doing that.”

Despite your previous teasing and confidence, you squirm inside his arms, feeling warmth spreading from your chest to your cheek. “So I have these effects on you?”

He’s almost growling when he retorts, “You don’t even know.” Haechan pushes your bra strap until it falls off your shoulder, teeth marking your supple skin until you hiss in both pain and pleasure. He presses a softer kiss to soothe away the bruise. “Sorry, I… You’re gonna need to cover it up tomorrow.”

“It’s fine.” You stroke his cheek, tracing the tiny mole on his jawline. “Seems like you have a biting kink.”

He sheepishly chuckles, “I don’t know. But if you let me, I’d love to do that again.”

Something about him saying it in the most sincere way possible, almost too formal even, makes you crave more for him and everything he does. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want with me, Lee Donghyuck.”

Haechan swallows hard, barely has the bravery to look at you in the face after hearing your words and his real name tumbling out of your mouth. His fingers are now on the hem of your shorts, trembling a little bit. “Umm—may I?”

Helping him further, you stand on your knees, unclasping your bra first to his surprise and pulling your denim shorts and panties down to your thighs. Haechan watches with his eyes wide open, mouth parted in awe as he commits every bit of your curve and movement into memory. It feels so thrilling to be this wanted, to be ravished by his eyes, until you begin to struggle to push your clothing away from your legs.

“Need some help?” He asks, lips pursing as he tries to hide a grin.

You exhale loudly, detaching yourself from him. “Let me just—” You jump off his lap, standing back with your feet on the ground, and kicking the clothing away with annoyance—why in the world did you have to wear shorts this tight—and slap him in the chest when he’s chuckling at the sight.

“Maybe you should stop trying to be sexy too,” Haechan snickers.

“Shut up.” You crawl back into his lap. “Go back to staring dumbly at me like before. I’m naked.”

“I wasn’t staring like tha—oh,” he inhales sharply as you grind your heat against his cock, amazed at how warm you are despite your cold palms. The sensation of skin meeting skin feels much more different. There’s really no going back this time. Somehow, it feels dangerous, as if you’re doing something forbidden and it makes your skin crawl with excitement.

And by the look on his face, seems like he feels the same way.

“Lost for words?” You taunt him with a smirk, hands on his chest. “That’s new.” His glare is menacing but it falters away the second you rub your arousal against his.

His head falls to his shoulder, eyes tightly shut. “God, baby…”

There it is again. The funny feeling in your stomach. “Baby?” You simper though your heart is palpitating like crazy. “We’re moving on to giving each other pet names now?”

If he can blush any harder than this, he probably might but with the way you’re grinding shamelessly on his cock, letting him get a glimpse of how wet and warm you are, he’s all maxed-out.

His earlobe lays between your teeth when you whisper, “Shall we put it in?”

Haechan’s nails are sinking into the skin of your hips, both to hold you in place so you’ll stop torturing him and to press you down harder on his crotch. “I…” He’s so distracted, he can’t even think. The way the side of his length is pressing against your folds is pushing every little bit of self-control he has to the back of his head.

“Haechannie?” You giggle, moving your hips. “I kinda asked you a question here.”

“Yes, fuck, yes, please.” Haechan tries his very best to not sound that desperate for your touch but he is that desperate. “Wait—aren’t we—shouldn’t I wear a condom first?”

You blink, halting your movement. “You brought a condom with you?”

He nods as he leans forward, fingers searching frantically at the pocket of his jeans that hang low on his knees. “Here.”

“Why do you have a condom with you?”

“‘Cause I bought it downstairs just now.”

Your jaw grows slack at the realization. “Is that the reason why your hair was so messy and you were sweating when you barged in here? ‘Cause you ran downstairs, trying to find a condom?”

“I’m sorry, are you really complaining about this now?”

At the feeling of his member twitching underneath you, you sigh. “You’re right. Let’s discuss that later.”

It feels a bit awkward when you stand on your knees, giving him some space and wait until he finishes wrapping the rubber around himself. The silence that hangs between you is almost deafening that by the time he’s done and you fall back to his lap, sitting on his thighs, it feels like you have to start over again.

You diffidently smile. “Hey.”

Haechan is equally as embarrassed, mirroring your gesture. “Hi.”

“I guess we’re gonna have sex.”

“Guess so.”

Another few seconds pass by where you can only meet each other’s eyes, feeling your heartbeat racing louder and louder. It feels like you’re about to burst, honestly, but fortunately for you, Haechan leans in, his fingers tentatively caressing your cheek. “Can I kiss you?” He questions.

You melt under his gaze, his gentle touch, his honey-like voice. “Yes, please.”

Your lips start the connection and the rest of your body follows, fitting every curve of his perfectly like you were made for him. The way Haechan sighs against your mouth sends sparks of electricity all the way down to your toes and you don’t waste any more time. With his mouth latching on your breast, tongue flicking against your nipple, you lower yourself on him.

Haechan’s hold your waist tighter, eyebrows adjoined in the middle at the sensation, his moans muffled. He presses his spine back against the couch, admiring the sight of his member disappearing inch by inch into you. His eyes begin to droop when he’s completely sheathed inside, his bruised lips parted. He cups your cheek, kissing you softly on the corner of your mouth, making you shiver at the sudden tenderness. “I guess we are having sex,” he murmurs with a bashful smile.

You can’t help but laugh a little. “I guess so.”

It starts slow, with you placing both hands on his chest and him swallowing his breath at the sight of you moving up and down his length. You hiss slightly at the friction, adjusting to his size.

“Does it hurt?” He asks, tucking a few loose strands behind your ear.

“A little.” You reassure him with a grin. “Relax, you’re not gonna break me.”

You expect him to send back a snarky remark but what he does is press his forehead against yours. “You’re so warm,” he whispers, tasting the skin that connects your shoulder to your neck. Something about his words, his sensual kiss and his tender touch makes you squeeze your walls around him and he clutches harder around you. He glides his hands lower to your hips, silently urging you to pick up the pace and you follow.

Breathing heavily, Haechan has his thumb grazing your lower lip. “You have such a pretty mouth,” he professes as if he was in a trance.

You seductively bite his thumb, still working your hips. “You’re saying that ‘cause I just sucked your dick.”

“Yes, that too, but really.” It’s as if he’s staring at a work of art, eyes twinkling with admiration. Sometimes, when you’re hitting the right spot and quiver around him, a small moan escapes his lips and you feel him twitching inside you. “It’s—ah—It probably doesn’t sound sincere when I’m saying this now, but I’ve always thought you had a pretty mouth. And lips. I’ve thought about your lips a lot.”

“Yeah?” You mouth against the sensitive skin below his ear, sinking harder on his length. “What else do you like about me?”

“Y-your voice—” You can actually feel him shivering. “You have such a—fuck—I just—I really love your moans.”

You’re not sure whether he’s saying that because he’s so distracted with the way you’re breathing in his ear or he genuinely loves it. Either way, it’s a pleasure to know how much you’re affecting him with your actions. With a chuckle, you say, “You’re rambling, baby.”

“And your hair,” he adds, probably losing every bit of his self-control by this point. “I love your hair. Looks so soft.” Haechan cards his fingers through your strands. “Feels so soft.”

You hum in response, hoping that your flushed face doesn’t look as apparent as you think. “Anything else?”

“Your—” He shudders when you paint a mark under his collarbone. “Your ass.”

You stop, pulling away to give him a look and he whines at the loss. “My ass?”

“What—” The tips of his ears are turning red, steam practically coming out of them. “Why are you staring at me like that—you have a great ass!”

Teasing him is such a joy to you. “Then, let’s do it this way.” You part away from him, landing back on the carpeted floor so you can turn around, giving him the chance to ogle at your behind, before you ease yourself down onto his lap once more.

“Fuck—” Haechan’s hisses, his hands going down to your hips again. The new position doesn’t allow you to meet his eyes but with the way he’s whimpering behind you, fingers trailing over the curve of your ass, the sensation increases.

“You okay back there?” You taunt smugly, chuckling a bit because Haechan sounds like he’s losing it. His nails are sinking into your skin and you just know that’s gonna leave a nasty bruise tomorrow. “You seem like you’re enjoying this way too—“ You’re interrupted by your own moans when he suddenly has one hand massaging your breast and another one sliding down your stomach to find your clit. “W-wait, Haechannie—”

“You’re such a tease,” he breathily whispers into your ear, his chest pressing against your spine as he leans forward, pulling you into his embrace. “Isn’t that supposed to be my job?”

His fingers are rubbing you in circles, making your thighs tremble. “You’re right.” You move your hips harder, going out of rhythm with how fast you’re going and Haechan sinks his teeth to your shoulder again.

At the sound of his name departing your lips in the most sinful moan he’s ever heard, Haechan curses. “Shit, you’re not gonna let me enjoy this longer, are you?”

“There’s always a second round, Haechannie.” You smirk, raising your hips all the way up in intention to slam it back down again but Haechan catches you and pushes you forward until you land on the coffee table, stomach pressing flat against the wooden surface. “What—"

“There’s always a second round, right?” His lips are brushing against your ear as he positions himself behind you. “Then I’m going all out.”

When he slams his hips in one swift motion, hard and deep, he knocks all the air out of your lungs. “Wait—” You choke out, can barely keep up with his pace. “Oh God—”

“Now, now,” he coos, his hand finding its way to your throat, fingers pressing against your veins. He raises your face, his chest completing the dip of your spine. “Don’t bring God’s name when I’m fucking you like this, baby.”

You can’t even find the strength to retort, eyes shutting tightly until you see stars behind your eyelids. It almost feels unreal how fast he can go from being awkward and tentative about all of this to raw and wild within a few minutes but Haechan has always been fast adapting to new situations and you have been teasing him way too much. It’s about time that he snaps.

Haechan moves you down to the floor, forcing you to stand on all fours and you’re so glad you follow his lead. “Spread your knees. Bring your head down,” he instructs and you do as you’re told, extending your arms in front of you. Haechan has his hand on the dip of your shoulder blades, holding you still until you have no choice but to press your cheek against the carpeted floor, ass in the air. “Good girl,” he praises, kneeling behind you and rubbing his tip along your folds. “Ready, baby?”

He doesn’t wait for your answer.

With only a few minutes in, you know you’re getting close, you can feel it. He has switched from giving deep, hard thrusts to quick, shallow ones and it’s driving you insane. “H-Haechannie, I—” you whimper, “I’m close—”

And he knows it too, of course he does. He can tell by the way you’re clenching around him. But instead of going harder and driving you completely over the edge, Haechan suddenly laces his fingers with yours, his lips painting soft kisses from your nape down to your spine, his hips hitting another angle that feels just as amazing even when he slows down the pace. The intimacy surprises you as you don’t expect him to be this tender. Suddenly, it doesn’t feel like you’re doing this out of sheer passion. With his palm covering the back of your hand, fingers slipping between yours, somehow, everything feels more sentimental, stronger, crossing the lines.

With a moan of your name, Haechan flips you to your back, fingers framing your face, lips meeting lips as he thrusts back in, gasping against your mouth. “I want to see your face,” he says when he pulls away, his half-lidded eyes boring into yours, thumb slipping between your lips. “Not sure if I’ve told you this before but…” He snaps his hips, and you tangle your legs around them in response, fingernails digging into his upper arms. “You’re so beautiful.”

The knot in your stomach untangles without warning and your orgasm hits you so hard, you nearly sob at the sensation. With the way you’re quivering and squeezing around him, Haechan follows right after, his face sinking into the crook of your neck, hips stuttering as he rides out his own orgasm.

***

With his jeans back on and his used condom thrown away to the nearest trash bin, Haechan joins you back on the carpeted floor as you still haven’t found the strength to get up and get dressed after that. He shamelessly lays his body down on top of yours, his cheek pressing against the valley of your breasts. “I’m spent,” he mumbles, feeling drowsy.

“Haechannie?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re heavy.”

“I know.” But he doesn’t get up, only moving his head slightly to press a tiny kiss to your bare chest before he lies his head down over your heart again. You give up with a smile, wrapping your arms around him, fingertips stroking his hair. Haechan sighs contentedly under your touch. “Man, that was…”

“That was?”

“Amazing.” He props himself up on his elbows so he can meet your eyes. “You’re amazing.”

Your heart jolts at the sincerity in his words but you cooly smile back. “I know.”

“And I’m amazing too, I’m sure?”

“Meh,” you shrug. “Could be a little better but I’ll let you practice on me for free.”

“Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head, his strands tickling your nose. “I don’t even have the strength to join your banter. You know, I’ve always wondered since you’re pretty much shit at everything, there must be something you’re good at. But I never thought that something would turn out to be sex. I can’t even believe I’m saying this but you’re really, really amazing at it. I feel like I should give you a medal or something.”

“Thanks,” you flatly mutter. “Not sure if you’re praising me, though.”

“Oh, I am praising you, believe me. And you know me, I rarely praise.”

“Stop it,” you use your robotic voice. “You’re making me feel so special, I’m about to cry.”

Haechan playfully nips at your nose, forcing you to break off your act and laugh directly into his mouth. “Seriously,” he says, breaking off the kiss. “If I were to pay you for sex, I would give you everything I own. Even the clothes I’m wearing. Hell, I’d even sell my grandma but don’t tell her that.”

Your laughter has reduced into small giggles. “That’s comforting.”

“So…” The way Haechan is caressing your hair is so soft, almost like a mother to her sleeping child. “What should we do about this?” When you raise an eyebrow, he tensely adds, “Do you, umm… I mean, do you want to, like—”

“You’re rambling.”

“I know, God, I’m so nervous! I may look like a naughty, sexy bad boy—”

“No one is saying that—“

“But I actually suck at this—as in, I don’t really know how to date a girl.”

“You don’t even know how to talk to a girl, based on the conversations we’ve had,” you comment and you know it’s not helping but it’s worth seeing his adorable pout. “Then don’t date me. If it’s hard for you to date, then let’s just keep being friends—"

“But I want to continue this!” He says it so fast and firmly that you don’t even have time to feel hurt about your offer.

It’s not like you crave a relationship with him—you haven’t thought about it that far—even just holding him like this is enough for now, so the fact that he’s so excited to have this going makes your heart swells with joy. “Well then, we’ll be friends who have casual sex anytime we want,” you suggest.

He blinks twice, a bit amazed at your offer, but to your surprise, he seems rather… disappointed? “What happens if we start catching feelings?” He quietly asks.

“Then I guess we’ll start dating for real.”

“Then…” He runs a hand through his hair, nervous. “What happens if I already have feelings for you?”

He states it so quietly, it’s a miracle you can even hear him. “Do you want to date me, Haechannie?”

He looks away, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “Do you want to date me?” He murmurs against your skin, unsure and flustered.

You heave the heaviest sigh you’ve ever done in your life. “You’re unbelievable. I’ll decide for us then. Starting now, we’re dating.”

He lifts his head, and if he were a puppy, he would’ve had his tail wagging behind him, even when his face doesn’t show much. “That easy?”

“That easy. What, you have something to complain about?”

“No.” He grins, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. “Hey, girlfriend.”

“Ugh, get off me, you’re gross.”

But no matter how hard you push your palm against his face, Haechan only giggles and turns you around so this time, you’re lying on his chest. “So,” he pushes a few strands of your hair behind your ear. “You like me, huh?”

“No, what makes you think that way?”

“Says the girl who just slept with me.”

“I slept with you ‘cause I was just curious about your dick. Jeno said you had a dick that was the size of his thumb.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Didn’t you see his InstaStory last night?” You reach up to gather your phone from the coffee table. “I took a screenshot of it actually. Man, you should’ve seen the comments. They’re hilarious.”

Snatching your phone away, Haechan runs his eyes along the words written on the screen. “That son of a bitch!”

Simpering, you sneak a peek under his boxer. “Well, he’s not wrong.”

“Oh, it’s on,” he deadpans, throwing your phone away and pushes you back down on the floor. His eyes glinting mischievously.

“What are you doing?” You’re still half-laughing when he brings your hands over your head, holding your wrists together with one hand as he settles between your thighs, his fingers hovering dangerously close.

“I’m gonna make you take your words back.” He wets his lip, one corner of his mouth turning upward. “Time for the second round, baby.”

***

2K notes · View notes

blu-joons · 4 years ago

Text

You Have Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD)

Chan:

You were confused when you saw Chan’s name pop up on your phone, convinced that he was supposed to be in the middle of a meeting for the group. Regardless, you picked up, hearing him sigh as soon as you did.

Your heart pounded with worry as you heard him clear his throat, “I’ve been outside for half an hour now waiting for you at the restaurant, did you not remember I took a half day?”

Your eyes darted up to look at the clock on the wall, and then the date on the calendar, quickly realising what today was.

“Chan,” you whispered, letting go of a shaky breath. “I completely forgot, if you just wait ten minutes, I’ll be able to get there and we can still eat together, do we still have the reservation?”

“No, don’t worry yourself, I’ll grab takeout, I’d prefer to eat at home with you anyway,” he tried to comfort you, “just get some bits sorted at home and I’ll be there soon.”

“I promise that I’ll find a way to make this up to you Chan, I’m so sorry.”

Minho:

He couldn’t help but let go of a sigh as he read through the essay, you’d been writing that you’d left out on your desk. He knew there were times when you struggled, but the mistakes that you made certainly caught his attention.

He was so concentrated, that he failed to notice you walking back up into your room. “I know what you’re looking for, you don’t need to tell me that there’s mistakes in there.”

His head shook, encouraging you to take a seat beside him. He knew that you wanted it to be perfect, so that was what he was going to do to help.

“Just don’t panic,” he quickly assured you, “the essay itself is really good, but I know you’ll hate me if I don’t tell you that there are a couple of things that could do with improving.”

“I’d rather you tell me,” you responded, as hard as it was for you to hear. “You’re right, I do want this to be perfect, so as much as it sucks, I guess I’m going to have to listen to you.”

“I’m helping you, just remember that when you want to punch me over this.”

Changbin:

Any time when there was silence at the studio, it confused you. The boys were usually so loud, that when the room was peaceful, you never quite knew what to do, silently wishing for someone to make some noise again.

Changbin quickly caught onto how uncomfortable the new atmosphere made you. “Talk to me if you want a bit of noise Y/N.”

As soon as he spoke, you began to talk to him about anything that came to mind, just so that the room was completely silent anymore.

“Why don’t we talk about what we can get up to once I finish work for the day?” He suggested as soon as he noticed that you were running out of things to say. “Shall we try the Thai place?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, looking around at the rest of the boys who were all lost in their phones, “it feels weird to see them all being so quiet, I’m not used to it.”

“Make the most of it, once the phones go down, the noise will go up.”

Hyunjin:

To begin with, Hyunjin tried to ignore it, but the sound of your pen tapping against the paper as you thought eventually became too much, causing him to eventually snap at you and make you jump at his voice.

Instantly, he felt bad, noticing you trying to write a list of things to pack. “I’m sorry, the noise was just getting a little bit irritating to listen to you.”

Your head nodded, trying to refrain yourself from being any more disturbing than you were for Hyunjin as he tried to concentrate.

“Let me help,” he spoke up again, coming to your side. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you; I know that you’re trying to think. Why don’t we go through the things that you need together?”

“I know there’s a few things I’ve forgotten,” you sighed, sliding your list across for him to have a look at. “But nothing is coming to mind for what else I might need for the trip.”

“I reckon a good start might be to at least write down your toothbrush jagi.”

Han:

His heart sunk when he watched you tear yet another piece of paper out of your notepad, he already knew exactly why you’d thrown it away, just like you did with most of the things that you scribbled in the pad of paper.

Jisung walked straight across to you as you did so. “Why don’t you let me help you if you’re worried about getting it wrong? You’re putting too much pressure on yourself.”

You didn’t respond, but Jisung knew that deep down you were desperate for his help to try and get your letter spot on.

“Just take it slowly,” he encouraged, helping you with every word, stopping you before you made a mistake. “If you’re not sure, just ask me, I’m here to help you after all Y/N.”

“These are simple errors,” you frowned, “I should be able to spot these the first time without looking back over it and realising mistake after mistake that I’m making,” you groaned loudly.

“We all make mistakes sometimes, let’s just try and fix them instead.”

Felix:

Another groan came from you as the two of you continued to wait at the airport to check in and get on your flight to Australia. Felix could quickly tell you were getting agitated as you bounced up and down on your toes.

His eyes stared across at you, “there shouldn’t be that much longer to wait, just don’t get yourself stressed or anything jagi.”

Your eyes rolled, with each passing second, your impatient grew as you desperately wanted to get moving again.

“We can’t jump the queue,” Felix pointed out to you as you groaned yet again. “Just think, the longer that we queue now, the less time we’ll have to queue once we’re in the departure lounge.”

“Queuing sucks,” you sighed, resting against his shoulder. “I just want to get moving again, I’m fed up with being made to stand still, why are they all taking so long to get a move on?”

“They’re working as fast as they can, I promise we’ll get moving soon.”

Seungmin:

Your mind was absent as the two of you walked side by side, Seungmin knew that you were pretty distant beside him, but the grip that he had on your hand was enough for him to know that you were still beside him.

However, as an elderly couple came from the opposite direction, Seungmin had to pull you last minute to get out of the way as you failed to notice them. “What are you doing? You could have hurt them.”

It was only once you’d passed the couple, did you realise they were there. Glancing back to look at them stare back at you.

“Don’t panic, they’re alright,” Seungmin assured you, noticing that the incident had shook you up. “You just weren’t concentrating, that’s all, but no one got hurt, did they?”

“But they could have done,” you whispered, resting your free hand against your forehead. “If you hadn’t have pulled me out of the way I could have been responsible for hurting them.”

“But you didn’t hurt them, just concentrate a little more next time.”

I.N:

As soon as you got to the checkout, you handed the new shirt that you wanted to purchase across to the cashier. You reached into your pocket, unable to feel your purse, peering into your handbag to see that your purse wasn’t there either.

Your eyes darted back to Jeongin behind you, “I’ve left my purse at the dorm again, I’m just going to have to hand the shirt back, I can’t pay for it now.”

Before you even finished speaking, Jeongin stepped forwards and covered the cost, saving you from any further embarrassment.

“Sometimes I think I should glue your wallet to you,” he teased, “we all forget things from time to time, there’s no need to get upset with yourself, you’ve still got your shirt.”

“I’ll pay you back,” you quickly informed him, but his head shook. “If you hadn’t had been there, do you have any idea how embarrassing that could have been for me Jeongin.”

“But I was there, so you don’t need to worry about what if.”

---

Masterlist

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biisexualemma · 4 years ago

Text

unrequited pt.2. peter parker

word count: 3.6k

warnings: anxiety, panic attack? i guess kind of

requested: yea a few people asked for this lol

plot: you haven’t seen peter for weeks and start to worry about him

a/n: i finished re-writing this late last night and i’ll be honest with you i haven’t checked it over so sorry if there are any mistakes but i’m tired sis goodnight! lmk if you like this! pls comment / share!

pt.1 / marvel masterlist / multi-fandom masterlist

"ned... you're so wrong for so many reasons," m.j.'s expression was flat, her eyes rolling before she continued to fight ned on who was really the strongest avenger. you were supposed to be working on a group project for your history class but somehow the topic of the avengers came up and the conversation derailed. ned was making a, somewhat, compelling case for the hulk but m.j. was clearly winning with her argument for wanda.

"nobody even knows the full extent of her powers... and the hulk? what? he's gonna smash some more?"

you sat quietly, chin in the palm of your hand, listening in and out of the conversation. you didn't really feel much like contributing. you would occasionally chime in to support m.j. but mostly you just heard the noise of their bickering and let it happen.

you didn't want to be that person, but your mind was (much to your frustration) completely consumed with thoughts of peter. and at the worst time, you had so many tests coming up, and essay deadlines were also creeping up on you. usually you were on top of this stuff, but your mind was preoccupied almost all the time.

because of peter, who was no where to be seen. in the past few weeks he had stopped showing up to school all together. ned said it was something to do with tony stark but you had a feeling it was more than that. you didn't know how to explain it.

you hadn't spoken to him in a long time now, and you didn't exactly leave things on good terms. it was the longest you'd gone without talking since peter called you a poopy head in the third grade.

you just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. especially since you had no idea what he was getting up to, peter was known to get himself into some messes when he was left to his own devices. and you just knew ned was lying to cover for his best friend but that only made you feel even more out of the loop.

everything felt a bit off without peter around, like something was missing. that, on top of the guilt and worry you were feeling, was turning your head to mush. last time you'd spoken to peter, he was erratic and wounded and desperate. something bad had to have happened for him to be gone this long.

the bell rang, signalling the end of your last period for the day, and the rest of the week seeing as it was a friday. you snapped out of your daze, jolting as your eyes focused back on your surroundings.

"what time did you say again, y/n?" your eyes drifted to m.j. who was collecting her notes on her desk, her eyes meetings yours, waiting for your answer. a crease formed between your eyebrows, you hadn't heard a word of the conversation before right now. m.j. seemed to realise this, rolling her eyes at you with a playful smile. you did this a lot lately, she was getting used to it. "homecoming? what time did you want to meet tonight?"

"oh," you nodded, still sitting at your desk as your classmates hustled around you. "right, homecoming— i— uh—"

"tell me you're still coming," ned interrupted, his eyes wide suddenly, clearly desperate that your answer was anything but no. "c'mon we've had this planned for ages!"

"no— yeah— of course i am," you nodded quickly to reassure him. "yeah— sorry— i just spaced. is seven good for you guys?"

they hummed in response, nodding.

you packed up your books, shoving them into your bag, still in a slight haze with all these thoughts running through your head about peter. you couldn't think about homecoming, it seemed trivial now compared to the worst case scenarios running through your mind. maybe you could try to call peter again? you thought to yourself as you quickly left the classroom, forgetting about m.j. and ned and homecoming, your muscle memory alone leading you to your locker.

you swapped out your books from your bag with the ones you needed to study from for your biology test next week. after slamming the locker door shut, a familiar face was met with yours.

"jesus," you muttered as he stood inches away from your face, your heart racing from the shock. clutching your books to your chest, after nearly having a heart attack, you let out a loud sigh and furrowed your eyebrows. "peter? where the hell have you been?" you regained some of your composure, enough to find some anger in you towards him. he was the last person you were expecting to see today.

"you're ok?" his usual soft brown eyes looked sunken and tired, his hair was scruffier than usual and his lips chapped as they hung open, his eyes scanning over you.

your mouth hung open to speak but he just shook his head as if answering his own question. he gripped your forearm, urging you to walk with him. you dug in your heels, yanking your arm back, wanting him to slow down and explain before you went anywhere with him. "will you just walk," he muttered sharply when you tried to resist him. "please," he softened quickly, his eyes meeting yours.

you frowned, uncomfortably shifting the stack of books in your arms as peter pulled you along behind him hastily. you watched his eyes shifting about the hallway as students weaved around the two of you, his grip not loosening for a second. he was definitely up to something stupid and dangerous that he absolutely should not be involved in.

he'd dragged you all the way out into the parking lot, pulling you aside and away from the crowd of people.

"what's going on? why do you look like— i mean no offence but— you look like crap," you couldn't help but show some level of concern. no matter how complicated your feelings were for him at the moment, he was still your best friend, and he looked like hell. you couldn't stop yourself from staring at him.

"i need you to just— stop talking and listen to me," the look in his eyes made your heart beat a bit faster, your eyes darting between his trying to understand his urgency. "you're not safe—"

"no— i'm fine—" you were never very good at doing what you were told. you glanced down at yourself, perfectly safe and standing in front of him. "see?—"

"no— no you're not," he gulped, his eyes darting away from yours for a split second. "i'm taking you home and you have to stay there. ok? please."

his voice was horse, cracking when he spoke. you didn't understand any of it. peter was the friendly neighbourhood spider-man, what the hell had he gotten himself into that had him this worked up?

you tilted your head slightly, he couldn't think you'd blindly do whatever he said. you needed some answers. "pete," you mumbled, shaking your head with a faint frown. "can't you just tell me what's going on? you're kinda' scaring me."

"i screwed up," his face contorted, his eyes screwing shut for a second and his nose scrunching. you were glued to him, following his mixed expressions trying to understand what was going through his head. he took a deep, shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. "and i know you— you hate me and the last thing you wanna' do is listen to me but i need you to do this for me."

"alright," you said after a moments hesitation. you just wanted him to relax. all your pent up anger and hurt that you'd felt over peter had dissipated quite quickly. you were too occupied with trying to ease some of his stress, and if that meant becoming a homebody for a few days, you would do it. "alright— don't worry. i've been putting off my english essay for a week now anyway, it's about time i cracked down on it."

you tried to ease the tension, act like he wasn't asking much of you. he let out a heavy sigh, looking over at you with those brown eyes. "it's homecoming tonight, i know w—"

"is it?" you feigned forgetfulness, not wanting to make him feel any worse than he already did. you shrugged. "i was never one for socialising anyway."

peter knew you better than that. he knew what he was asking you to give up. "i'm sorry," he took a step closer to you, his hands hovering in front of you, unsure that you wanted him to touch you. "i'm sorry you got dragged into this."

your eyes lingered on his hands before you pulled back up to his stare. you pursed your lips and shrugged. "i'd feel better about it if i knew what i was getting dragged into," you pulled away from your conversation for a second to slip your books into your bag. "walk me home and you can explain everything."

and he did. he told you all about the vulture, the weapons, what really happened during the decathlon trip. all of it. right up to when the vulture figured out his identity— which lead to him finding out about aunt may, about his friends, and about you. he told you about how he'd spent the past few weeks figuring out where the vulture's next major deal was being held, how he'd messed up so bad and how mr stark had taken his suit.

by the time he'd finished, your mouth hung open slightly. you didn't know how he'd been dealing with all of this by himself. spider-man helped old ladies cross the street and returned stolen bicycles, he didn't fight men in bird costumes to stop illegal sales of dangerous advanced weapon tech.

"peter, this sounds pretty dangerous," you spoke up after he told you about his plan to intercept the vulture's airplane heist. "don't you think you should just call happy? or tony? this sounds like iron man territory."

"i can't do that," he sighed. "besides, i already tried happy— he's not taking my calls right now. something about a time out."

you let out a heavy sigh, having taken everything in that he'd told you. you had reached your door, peter standing behind you with his hands stuffed in his pockets. you motioned for him to come in but he hesitated, opening his mouth to decline. "c'mon," you grabbed his arm and tugged gently. "this heist isn't happening 'til late tonight. you can keep me company 'til then."

"maybe, get some rest, too, you really do look like hell," he let you pull him inside, following behind you. he ignored the second dig you had now made about his appearance.

"may must've been pretty mad when she found out you'd been skipping school?" you collapsed onto your bed, crossing your legs over and watching peter perch himself on the edge of your bed. he leaned forward, his hand running over his face with sheer exhaustion.

"you have no idea," he groaned, holding his head up with the palm of his hand now. "i'm pretty much grounded for the rest of the year. and i have to send her a pic' of me sitting in every one of my classes from now on," you nodded, pursing your lips because that sounded about right. "but mainly she was worried."

"well, she wasn't the only one," he glanced at you over his shoulder, his eyes lingering there for a while. you breathed through your nose, looking away from him and down to your hands to give yourself a moment. you'd forgotten how difficult it was to have him look at you like that. "you just took off with no word, peter."

he turned his gaze away from you, focusing on the wall in front of him, his eyes glossy. for weeks that last conversation with you had been sitting at the back of his mind. he knew he'd handled everything in the worse possible way. he tried to protect you, hurt you by doing so, and then had everything he tried to protect you from blow up in his face anyway.

"i haven't been able to think clearly for weeks," you gulped, scared to meet his gaze again, in fear that you might lose your confidence. "i missed you. and i was worried out of my mind about you."

"y/n—" his voice was quiet.

"and i know i was the one who told you to leave. but i was hurt and sad. i'd convinced myself that you felt the same way, and when you—" you closed your eyes for a second, feeling him watching you. you hadn't been able to say any of this out loud for weeks and now it was just spilling out of you. "anyway— i shouldn't've punished you for that. they are my feelings i need to get over. it wasn't your fault and i'm sorry i made it seem like it was."

he shook his head faintly, sniffling slightly, catching your attention. "i screwed up," he shook his head a little harder, pushing himself up off your bed, his back turned to you. "i screwed up so bad," he ran his hand over his face, his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose. your eyebrows knitted. "it wasn't supposed to turn out like this."

"don't," you shook your head, willing him to stop. "it's not your fault. i shouldn't have—"

he cut you off, turning to face you as he did. "i'm in love with you," his mouth hung open slightly, his eyes now stinging red. "i was in love with you then, and i'm in love with you now. i think i always will be."

your eyebrows unknitted, your mouth opening to speak but nothing came out. you watched his hand tug on the ends of his curls, his eyes locked onto you the entire time, trying to read your expression.

"i was trying to protect you and it went completely wrong—" his breathing was erratic. "i thought you'd be safer if i distanced myself—" the look on his face was breaking your heart. he knew how stupid it all sounded now he explained it out loud. "i screwed everything up— and now you're in more danger than ever— because of me."

"you— you—" your brain was trying to keep up. you shook your head. you had spent the past month telling yourself that everything you thought he'd felt for you wasn't real, that you'd over thought everything he'd ever done for you. you'd been telling yourself for a month to move on. "you didn't screw up, pete. i know you. whatever you did, you did for the right reasons."

the lump in your throat was growing as you tried to keep some kind of composure. it wouldn't do either of you any good to get upset with him when he was worked up like this. he didn't need to be told he'd made a mistake, he was already painfully aware.

"you don't— you—but— i—" he was hyperventilating, completely vulnerable as he fell apart in front of you.

"pete," you mumbled carefully, climbing over to where he was stood, hand in his hair and he pulled on the loose curls, his eyes wide with anxiety and stress. you moved your hands to his, pulling them down to his side and giving them a small squeeze. "calm down," you cooed. "everything will be ok."

you trailed your hands up to his shoulders, giving them a soft squeeze before pulling him into a tight hug. you wrapped your arms 'round his shoulders, one hand moving to the back of his head, running your fingers through his hair. his head ducked, burying into your neck, his arms wrapping around your waist in a desperate grip. his breathing was heavy at first, uneven and jagged as he clung onto you. your heart was beating out of your chest, you were sure he could hear it, but you held onto him as tight as you could, pressing your whole body against his trying to offer him as much comfort as you could.

after a while of standing around, holding each other, peter's breathing began to grow softer and slower. he began to notice the sweet scent lingering on your skin. his lips innocently hovering over the curve of your neck, breath fanning against your skin. you could feel goosebumps growing on your skin, the hair of your arms standing on end.

"better?" you mumbled softly. he gave you a faint nod in response, his lips leaving your skin as he pulled himself back from you. your hand slipped from in between his curls and down to the neck, your thumb brushing over his skin as he looked straight into your eyes. you gulped, eyelids fluttering.

he was a state to behold. his nose was pink, under eyes wet, your eyes trailed down to where his lips parted. he hiccuped a breath. you tried to push away the impulse to kiss him because he was clearly vulnerable. you didn't want him to later regret anything. "thanks," he mumbled breathlessly. "i don't know what happened there."

you pouted your lips, about to reply when peters eyes fluttered down your face, catching you off guard. his eyes lingered and you noticed his head tilting down and nearer, his lips catching onto yours before you could register what was happening. it was soft, gentle and didn't last longer than a couple seconds before you had to force yourself to pull away.

"peter— you're overwhelmed right now so maybe we shouldn—"

your whispers against his lips where cut short, he pressed his lips to yours again. unable to resist now he'd had a taste. his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you back flush against his chest. you swallowed a gasp, feeling his full weight behind the second kiss. his lips pushed against yours a little more desperately this time, you fell back a step, peter's arms where the only thing keeping you upright at this point.

both your hands where either side of his neck, trailing up into his hair where you pulled softly at the roots of his messy curls. he let out a soft moan against your lips, and you stumbled back once more, your thighs hitting your bed.

your hands quickly slipped down to his chest as you gently pried him off you. your head was spinning a little, his lips were plump and pink and the way he looked at you, with pure love and obsession, made you want to kiss him again and again.

"did you mean it?" you muttered breathlessly.

his eyes trailed back up from your lips, his gaze locking with yours again. he noticed the vulnerability and fear in your eyes now that he was paying you his full attention. he felt a wave of guilt hit him, knowing he was the one that put that look there.

"yeah," he hummed. "i did," he said with his chest. "i do. always will," he was breathless.

"you're not just saying it 'cause you've missed me?"

he shook his head quickly, shutting down any traces of doubt in your mind. "i have been in love with you since that summer we took that trip to coney island when you threw up after you ate too much cotton candy."

your scrunched up your nose at the memory. "gross."

he shrugged. "i don't know what to tell you. that's just when i knew."

your lips twitched into a small smile. "you should probably get some rest," you diverted the topic, trying hard not to kiss him again. he looked so tired. he had poured out months worth of anxiety and stress all in the past ten minutes. "you can't chase bad guys if you're half asleep."

he wore a half-hearted smile, his mind clearly flickering back to the task he had to take on later tonight.

"you can crash here if you want," you motioned to your bed.

"y'sure? i don't wanna get you in trouble."

"mom's working late, so you're good. plus she loves you, pete," your hands slipped down to his, giving them a quick squeeze of reassurance.

"sure she'll still love me when she finds out about us?" he quirked an eyebrow, the small smile on his lips was sloped and tired.

"m'sure," you hummed, biting back your growing smile at the word us. you moved him to sit on your bed again, his hands lazily holding yours. his eyelids fluttered as he looked up at you, a small crease forming between his eyebrows again. you could tell his mind was wandering again. "lie down, you need to rest or you're no good to anyone."

he nodded hesitantly and followed your instruction. "i'll sleep better with you next to me."

his voice was soft after you'd turned your back on him to leave him to rest. you rolled your eyes faintly, smile tugging your lips again. "is that right?"

he hummed, his arms outstretched, waiting for you to fall into them. you dragged your feet back over to him, biting the inside of your cheek, the corner of your lip twitching upwards. "there's a scientific reason behind it but my brain's too sleepy to think right now, so you'll have to take my word for it."

his words slurred together, his eyes rolling slightly the longer he forced them open. you just nodded. "alright, spidey, just this once."

"hm," he hummed as you climbed in next to him, his arms wrapping around you and immediately pulling you against his chest. "thanks," he muttered, his lips pressed against the top of your head. "don't know what i'd do without you."

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viscountessevie · 2 years ago

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Justice for Shelley Conn!!! The writers did her and Mary so dirty and even so she was so so good. I know that every one has a grieving time but it would be so much more realistic to have Kate's father dying like a year prior, it would explain better Mary's emotional absence and why Kate had to take charge. Also I think Edwina should have known about the deal with the Sheffields since the begging, it would have made her character more likeable if she was willing to marry someone to take care of Kate and Mary and would explain the urgency of her wanting to get married so fast, the feeling that she failed her family when Anthony didn't propose and the fear she was not going to be seen as marrying material anymore after he didn't. She could have said to kate that she wanted to marry anthony and be his viscountess because she knew for what she saw that he was going take care her family if the Sheffields backed down and Kate could have understood her distress was because Edwina was in love with him. In the wedding scene her mortification would have been because she almost married a man who was in love with her sister and who loved him back all because sometimes people who love us try to proctect us instead of seeing us as adults who can handle the truth, then she would reveal to kate she knew about the deal with the sheffields and the rest of the season would be pretty much the same since it would be a big scandal for anthony to marry one sister after the other ran away from their wedding. Hire me netflix i fixed season 2

Anyways I’m done with my anti-Polio triade and we’re back to doing S2 Asks!

Also there’s a point/complaint I’ll be making in this post about post-S2 fics that came up again as a discourse on my dash last night - I really thought we put Edwina discourse to bed yall, why are yall like this T.T

Anon first off I am SO sorry to keep you waiting - this is a VERY old ask from like months ago?? I think it was prompted by my posts appreciating Book Mary and Edwina after the show butchered their characters?

JUSTICE FOR SHELLEY CONN INDEED!! God she was SO robbed of scenes and while I love my moots who dislike the Sharmas in the show because of the writing I get very annoyed when they get anons that put it all on Mary, calling her neglectful and emotionally abusive like literally it’s not that deep yall, the writers just ignored her!! But yeah I do hate that they made her Violet 2.0 just so Kate can be more like Anthony which is such a tired take.

Kathony in the books worked because while they were very similar, they did have differences that made them their own people!

As for your fixed version of S2: It’s an interesting take and definitely better writing than S2 - then again ANYTHING is a step up from S2 (well other than the weirdos writing S2 fics they’re either fetishising Kate or making The Sharmas out to be as abusive as the Penwoods and making Anthony Kate’s white knight which ew please fucking stop)

More Under The Cut [The Viscountess Essay Things]:

I do love that the first part is essentially what happened in the books. I’m not sure if you have read the book but for those of my anons/moots/followers who are show only fans here’s some context: So in The Viscount Who Loved Me the Sharmas (well Sheffields in the books not to be confused with Mary’s parents in the show because they don’t exist in the book thank god so HC that Mary’s REAL parents were fucking angels) were all aware of their financial status, including Eddie and knew they had to have Edwina marry well to secure a better future for her. I’m sure Mary and Eddie wanted that for Kate too but it was a mix of her being overlooked/intimidated by the men and her not really wanting to be married either that they just focus on giving Edwina the full season treatment. So Edwina herself is well aware of the responsibility she has to her family.

This is what made the sisters SO compelling in the books, they both had their burdens to bear and different responsibilities. Edwina wasn’t this ‘never been scarred by life and clueless’ naive deb the show made her out to be. In the books yes she is naive about marriage and what comes with it so in a way the full weight of her responsibility doesn’t really quite hit her. And who can blame her, she was 17. And it was a really good move of JQ to use their ‘courtship’ to illustrate how fucked up society was back then with the age gaps and essentially child brides. I especially loved that scene where Anthony sees El and Eddie together and Eddie is being a cheeky little sister and it hits him how young she is and how close he came to basically marrying someone like his sister.

I just loved how everyone was aware of who they are and where they stood in the books. The only clowning that happened was when Kate and Anthony were around each other - it’s like all their brain cells got yeeted from the horniness. It was funny af.

That being said, the book arc Edwina got about being the perfect deb and feeling the pressure and responsibility to marry well for her family was what I thought they were going to do after the coconut oil scene in Ep 3 but they just had to FUCK IT UP with having Eddie have a crush on him.

I do see how you fixed the mess of a plot after Ep 4 but personally I would have just YEETED the engagement and Edwina’s romantic feelings all together because come onnn Edwina and Anthony’s utter lack of connection and chemistry before they became in laws WAS FUNNY AF. Look at this shit:

I’m not sure if you want my rewrite of the season but here’s what I would have done:

- Adapted the book more close lmao but keep the horse riding motif; would have still loved for a funner version of Colin - well I guess that’s Ben in the show to have introduced them and they pretend to not know each other from the horse ride and we still get their book intro just with more layers

- Keep the new bee scene and maybe have them be caught by one of their parents - listen I just want these clowns together in an official capacity before the halfway mark of the season because WE DESERVED MORE MARRIED KATHONY IN THEIR OWN SEASON

- But instead of getting married right away, they have a longer engagement instead so we have one ep dedicated to them still struggling to accept their feelings so they use the engagement time to figure shit out. Then after a montage of hate fucking fuck buddies Kathony - we get the confession scene after the new accident scene which was just a normal riding accident she wasn’t running away but like the accident puts shit in perspective for both of them.

- Maybe not a week long coma but like a couple days and Anthony is losing his shit, Kate wakes up and is like Life is too fucking short I love you, you fucking idiot. The confession a mix of the one from the book and the show WITHOUT KATHANI. HER NAME IS KATHARINE. [Before anyone sends me asks about this bit please read my Kate Name Discourse tag on this I have talked about it to death]

- In this version just like in the books, Edwina feels n o t h i n g and their ‘courtship’ conversations are boring af. She quickly sees through him presenting the performative version of himself for her. She gleans this from how he is with Kate and also after her convo with Daphne going “Anthony, even tempered???” She’s like Something isn’t right here?? And calls him out for it and he sheepishly admits he wasn’t being himself (actually the “Let’s stop playing our roles” speech could be directed at Anthony here instead tbh) and they start to get along more as friends/future siblings in law.

- Also what pushes Eddie to call him out and stop their courting is her falling for Dorset who is a mix of Bagwell and Dorset in this. We’re yeeting his “I went to India once and made it my whole personality” trait. He can still have visited and not always bring it up in convos. So replace that Edwina and Anthony scene talking the drawing room with Dorset. Basically they have the Edwell romance that was in the books.

Spicy Alternative that could have avoided the Straight Mess™ that was The Engagement Plot and stupid fucking triangle: Edwina is a lesbian. Girlie has read definitely Sappho she knows what’s up. But because of her own burden and responsibility to the family, there’s a bit of hetcomp at play. That’s also why Eddie feels nothing for him lmao. I can also see her being bi to be honest. But yeah Lesbian!Edwina would have been fun to see with El, replacing Theo (love him but YEET the man teaching a woman about feminism) and this way there’s no stupid rebels plot that the Queen can threaten El with and Pen can go off and ruin someone else’s life (Cressida maybe who actually deserves it??)

- I don’t care if this picks apart the other plots cos fuck all the Featherflops and LW storylines, Cousin Hack doesn’t exist in this season, all his screentime goes to developing the Sharmas and giving Kate the backstory SHE ALWAYS DESERVED! GIMME ALL THE SHARMA SCENES FROM THE BOOKS. WE NEEDED THE MILK SCENE. MARY TELLING KATE SHE VISITS HER MOTHER'S GRAVE TO UPDATE HER ABOUT KATE. A L L THE KATE/EDWINA/MARY BONDING SCENES

So many fucking good book scenes and lines and we got n o t h i n g.

- Also!!! Anthony should have had sex dreams. Like if they didn't want to have them having sex until after the engagement plot, fine - could have offset it with more scenes pre-confession with his sex dreams dammit.

Anyways that's my take, hope yall enjoyed it and thanks for reading this all the way through if you did!

[ Ik yall can tell how much I hate S2 sometimes it honestly makes me tear up at times I feel stupid]

#bridgerton #kate sharma #anthony bridgerton #kathony #Bridgerton S2 #Bridgerton S2 Rewrite #Welp was gonna do that with some friends it just never happened 😭#Bridgerton Asks

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sleepysnk · 4 years ago

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i decided to write some angsty fluff for you guys because i just really wanted to get this idea off my chest. i hope you all enjoy! ♡

He Missed Out

Pairings: Eren Jaeger x Fem!Reader

Warnings: some angst, swearing

"Still no response?"

(Y/N) sat there on Eren's bed staring at her phone. She was waiting for a reply from Jean, the guy she liked. He was lagging again on her for the 5th time and of course, she went to Eren to rant about it.

Eren and (Y/N) had been best friends since they were toddlers. Eren lived right next to her and their mothers were close, they bathed together, played at the playground, celebrated birthdays, went through the shitty four years of high school, and now they are going through the next four years of college.

The two watched each other grow up. They were no longer these children who played tag or rode bikes until the street light came on, but rather adults who had to prepare for their futures.

Eren's brunette hair was now long, it grew past his shoulders and could be tied in a neat man bun. (Y/N) grew into a woman practically overnight, her face showed her growth.

"I don't know why you're wasting your time, isn't this like the 5th time he's ghosted you?"

Eren stepped into the room with a bag of chips, he tossed it onto his bed so she could take it.

"He didn't ghost me! He's just not sure if he wants a relationship," she replied, grabbing the bag of chips off the side of the bed.

Eren rolled his teal eyes. "Yeah okay.. I've heard that one before. He ghosted you (Y/N), just like last time."

She leaned back against the headboard, she hated how Eren could be so pessimistic sometimes. He always looked at the bad in certain situations, it was clearly his toxic trait. He was too stubborn to admit it though.

She never understood his stubbornness, many people in high school questioned how she dealt with Eren and his crazy mood swings. He had a temper, causing him to get into fist fights and arguments with anyone in the student body that pissed him off. She always told those people that she could easily calm Eren down, somewhat like a comforter for him.

"He'll be back tomorrow," she said, opening the bag of chips and shoving a few in her mouth. Her tongue tasting the saltiness.

Eren didn't necessarily believe that. "Whatever you say.." he replied before plopping down next to her.

A sudden ping from her phone made her ears chirp. She grabbed it seeing Jean's name across the screen, a smile forming onto her lips.

Eren grabbed the phone from her. "Don't respond," he said, placing it next to him.

(Y/N) turned her head towards him. "Why not? Eren! Give me back my phone. It's rude to not respond," she said, trying to reach over and grab it.

His eyes narrowed, "What? (Y/N), you've got to be kidding me. He ignored you for a whole day, it's rude of him to not respond." he felt frustration going through him.

She pouted a bit, crossing her arms. "You never know Eren!"

Eren shoved her phone in his pocket. "Yeah okay.. you better provide the same energy. Don't reply to him and I swear if you do I will call your mom," he said and reached for the remote.

She rolled her eyes at Eren's actions. He didn't know why Jean wasn't responding, so why should he be mad?

"Fine, whatever you say." she said, looking at the tv screen.

The next day was another dreaded day of classes and homework. (Y/N) was swamped with assignments and so was Eren, he had so much to do he could barely keep count of the amount of essays and other work he had to do.

"We could study together!" Eren said, nodding his head at (Y/N) as they walked through the campus.

She was on her phone, not paying too much attention which bothered Eren.

"Hello?"

Eren grabbed her phone out of her hands.

"Eren! Give it back!" she yelled, trying to grab it from him.

He stared at the screen, seeing Jean's name displayed on the screen. Jealousy rang through Eren, it made his chest feel tight.

"Seriously?" he said. "I told you to give him a rest, (Y/N) he's literally a dick."

She rolled her eyes before taking her phone back. "Eren I get you're trying to be a good best friend, but really, I got this. He told me he was busy, relax." she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

Eren was frustrated, why the hell does she keep going back to the guy? He's put her through so much bullshit and it bothered him to the point that he wanted to punch Jean in the face himself. He always bit his tongue on it, but it was like a thorn in his side whenever she talked or ranted about him. Can't she see what's in front of her?

"Yeah.. whatever.. look I gotta go anyway," Eren said before walking away and leaving her there.

She watched as he turned the corner, fading from her vision. Eren was stubborn but he usually got over things like this, what was the problem now?

Eren scoffed making his way to class, his mind was now clouded with negative thoughts. He wished (Y/N) would just listen to him! No matter how much he tried she wouldn't ever give his words a chance, it's like she didn't want to face the actuality that Jean was a lying asshole.

As Eren turned the corner he was faced with a sight that made his vision turn red.

There was Jean.

Leaning in against another girl.

His green eyes grew wide at the sight, what the fuck was he doing? His eye twitched at the sight, Jean was lying to her. It was blatantly obvious, and that explained why he would disappear for hours to days on end. (Y/N) was his second choice. He whipped out his phone, snapping a photo before heading off to class.

Two weeks went by and (Y/N) heard nothing from Eren.

No calls, no texts, nothing.

She tried approaching him at school but he ignored her, he avoided going in the same directions she did and whenever she tried texting him the messages were always opened.

She wasn't sure what she did but she needed her best friend right now. Jean stopped talking to her again, and she needed a listening ear. Eren was her usual go to but without him here, she didn't know what to do.

Here she stood outside Eren's apartment. Her heart thumped in her ears, she could feel it throughout her whole body.

She knocked on the door, waiting for a response.

The door opened, Eren's gaze met hers. She could faintly see his jaw tighten up and his face harden from the sight of her.

"Eren.. um, can we talk?"

He didn't say anything but move so she could enter his apartment. She could smell the faint scent of his body wash on his skin.

"Don't you have class?" he asked, plopping down on a chair.

She fidgeted with her fingers. "Um no.. I finished my classes early," she replied, looking at him nervously.

He nodded his head before sipping the water in his cup. "Mm.. I see"

She felt the awkwardness and tension through the air, something was up. She just didn't know exactly what.

"Jean stopped talking to me again.." she said, avoiding his eyes.

A chuckle escaped Eren's throat. "Huh.. doesn't surprise me but what can I say, you let it happen." he stood up, heading towards the sink.

What the hell? Eren has never said shit like this before to her.

"Okay seriously, what the fuck is your problem!? You ignore me for two weeks and now you're being a dick??" she scoffed.

Eren's head snapped towards her. "My problem? You want the honest truth, (Y/N)? You really wanna hear what the fuck is going on?!" he yelled, his voice sounding serious.

"Yes! It'd be good to know!" she replied, crossing her arms.

He laughed before leaning against the counter. "Jean doesn't fucking like you. Okay? I'm so fucking tired of how dense you are."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What? Eren you don't understand how complicated it is!" she replied.

He laughed again before sliding his phone in front of her. "What's complicated about that huh?"

She picked up the phone, her eyes grew wide at the sight of Jean leaning against another girl. She felt hurt, angry, upset. Nothing could pinpoint how she felt.

"I-I'm.." she felt tears burning her eyes.

"It's so hard being your friend.." he mumbled, looking at her.

Her head shot up, "What?! Eren-"

"No let me fucking speak for once. It's so hard being best friends with you, these guys walk all over you! And guess what? I'm the one who has to fix you! Then what do you do (Y/N)? You go back and let them treat you like shit."

Tears rolled down her cheeks, a few sobs escaped her mouth.

"Eren-"

"I'm not finished, do I gotta remind you? Levi Ackerman during your freshman year? Porco Galliard your junior year? I was there for all of that. You kept going back to them and you never once listened to me! I warned you so many times, yet you rather not face the facts. I was always there to pick up the pieces." he said, his voice loud.

She sobbed, Eren was right. She never listened to him, he always was the one to give her warnings and yet she still went for it anyway.

"Eren.. I-I'm s-sorry.." she cried.

He scoffed, "It's just.. you never saw who was in front of you," he said, looking at the floor.

Her head shot up, "What? What do you mean?" she asked, her brows furrowed.

"Don't you get it (Y/N)?" he asked.

She shook her head, "N-No..? I don't even understand why you're yelling at me either!" she replied, wiping a few tears off her cheeks.

"Christ (Y/N), I fucking love you that's why!"

Silence filled the room between them. She felt her heart suddenly swell, deep down she always knew she loved Eren.. she just pushed those feelings away because she thought it was just a best friend kind of love. But it was more.

"B-But.. what about Mikasa? A-And Historia?" she asked.

Eren walked towards her. "(Y/N).. I love you, I never loved Mikasa or Historia.. they were just close friends. I always hung around them to try and push what I felt away," he replied.

"I don't understand.. how long? Why didn't you ever just come clean?" she asked, few tears escaping her eyes.

He looked away from her. "(Y/N) I knew I loved you when we started high school, Armin noticed, so did Mikasa. I wanted to come clean sooner but everytime we got close you found another guy and pushed me out of the picture."

Her eyes went to the floor, she was trying to process this information. She never once thought Eren felt the way she did, she always figured that she'd be only a best friend, nothing more.

"Eren.. I'm sorry, I'm such a horrible best friend." she said, sniffling a bit.

He walked in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Don't apologize.. I don't wanna see you hurt anymore that's all," he used the pad of his thumb to wipe away the tears on her cheeks.

She looked into his eyes, she noticed how they softened now. "E-Eren.. I-I love you.." she said, curling her fingers around his wrist.

His eyebrows shot up, "What? N-No you don't.. you're just saying that to make me feel better," he replied, looking away.

She used her hand to turn his face towards her again. "Have I ever lied to you? Eren.. I knew I loved you, I thought it was just a best friend type of love, but I knew deep down it was more than that."

His cheeks dusted pink, "I just... I don't want you saying it because I said it. You genuinely mean so much to me and fuck... (Y/N) I wanna be the one to heal you from everything," he said, cupping her cheek. "I want to make you forget all of the hurt you went through."

She felt a smile grow onto her cheeks. "I'd.. love that," she replied, looking into his hues.

Their faces were now inches apart, his lips ghosted over hers before he leaned in and kissed her. Her lips were soft, warm, the kiss was passionate, it felt.. real. Her arms went around his neck, bringing him down closer to her.

His hands found their way to her hips, he pressed her body against his.

Breaking the kiss, she looked up at him. "I love you.." she said.

A smile grew onto his lips. "I love you too.." he replied. "Please.. let me be the one to heal you from all of this, I promise, I'll never hurt you."

Her cheeks grew warm, "You promise?"

"Have I ever lied to you..?" he asked.

She felt a smile grow onto her features. "Well no.." she replied.

He pecked her lips, "There's your answer, now come on, let me take care of you."

He lifted her up, her legs going around his waist. "Eren! Be careful," she said, slapping his shoulder.

"I won't drop you, trust me!" he said, taking her to his room.

"I haven't heard from (Y/N) in days," Jean said, looking at Connie.

He shrugged, "I dunno! Maybe she lost her phone," he said.

Jean sighed, maybe she was just busy? He wasn't sure.

"Uh.. Jean?" Connie said, hitting his arm and pointing at someone.

Jean looked up, his jaw dropping.

There she was, but she wasn't by herself. She was with.. Eren??

"Ha! Sucks to be you!" Connie said, chuckling at Jean's expression.

He glared at him, "Shut up! What the hell?! That doesn't make sense.. she was talking to me!" he said.

Eren smirked as he walked past Jean and Connie, his hand around (Y/N)'s waist. He felt enjoyment watching Jean get pissed, he also seemed to take in that Jean noticed the small bite marks around her neck. All provided by Eren of course.

"Stupid Eren.." Jean mumbled.

Eren looked at (Y/N), she smiled up at him. "That was probably the most petty thing I've done," she giggled.

Eren smirked, leaning down to kiss her lips. "He missed out," he replied.

"He certainly did." she said, taking his hand into hers and going to class.

#anime #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot imagines #aot fanfiction #snk x y/n #snk x reader #snk fanfiction #snk imagines #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #anime fanfic

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onecanonlife · 3 years ago

Text

Wilbur wakes up one morning to find white in his hair. This is—irritating, for several reasons, but that’s all it is. An annoyance. A distraction.

There’s nothing deeper at work here. There’s nothing wrong at all.

(Or, the stresses of the presidency give Wilbur a white streak of hair earlier in canon, and somehow, this serves as the cry for help he can never bring himself to make.)

(word count: 6,249)

(first part) (third part) (fourth part)

——————–

Part Two

He tries to pen a letter to Phil. It’s more difficult than he remembers.

Dear Phil, he starts, and that’s good, that’s fine. All is well here in L’Manberg, he continues, and that’s good too. But from there, he’s stumped. What next? What does he tell him about? This is the part where he’d launch into a cute story, something Fundy got up to, or some trouble Tommy caused. But nothing comes to mind. Nothing recent, anyway. But the last letter he sent to Phil was—a month ago? Two, now? So he needs to write, because Phil’s far from a helicopter parent, but he still likes to know what he’s up to. Will still worry, if he gives him a reason to.

So, he needs to finish a letter. Needs to stop procrastinating.

He could write about Niki’s bakery. He can’t remember if he told Phil about it or not. He probably hasn’t, not if it’s truly been that long since his last missive. So he sets his pen to work, scratching out a few more sentences, and he reminds himself that he doesn’t need to be overly verbose. Phil doesn’t need an essay. Just a paragraph or two to assure him that he and everyone else are well, that he’s having fun, that he’s thriving.

Telling him about the bakery will work for that. Except, then, after a bit, he ends up writing, It eases my mind to visit. Truly, it’s one of the only places I let myself relax, and—no. No, that won’t do. That will make him sound as though he’s stressed, and he doesn’t want Phil to worry about that. There’s nothing Phil can do about it, and he couldn’t stand it if the admission led his father to think any less of him. He’s not going to—to start complaining to him. That would be ridiculous.

So he scratches the line out and continues on, except then, he writes, I worry that I’m shirking my responsibilities, but then, I’m probably doing that anyway, simply by virtue of not being, and he stops before he can finish that sentence, because, no. Simply, no. He is absolutely not telling Phil that.

He bites his lip. He’s already scratched out enough that he’ll probably need to start an entirely new draft anyway.

He sets the tip of the pen to paper.

I’m exhausted, he writes, but my mind won’t allow me to rest. Too many shadows in too many dark corners, I suppose. Too many thoughts circling. It’s like a hurricane in my head, and I should be in the eye, but I think the storm wall has caught me. I’m tossing in the air, at the wind’s mercy, and I’m afraid of what will happen when I fall.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know why I ever assumed that I did. And I feel afraid, because my inadequacies are failing everyone around me. I have to protect them, have to keep them safe, but sometimes I close my eyes and see everything aflame, or I see Dream and his friends flooding into the Final Control Room. We were betrayed, there. I’ve never told you this, but we all lost a life. Me, Tommy, Tubbo, and Fundy. I couldn’t do a thing to stop it. Somehow, I never thought that dying would be terrifying for me, considering who my mother is, but it is. I was so scared, and I still am.

I think I’m a disappointment. I think that if this country fails, it will be my fault, and it will only be right if I go down with it. My people have little faith in me, and they’re right not to, but I can’t bring myself to step down, because at the end of the day, I’m addicted to the power and responsibility. I’m nothing without it. If I can’t manage this, then how can I deserve the trust and faith that others have placed in me?

Most days, I think that everyone hates me. Most days, I think they’re right to do so. I can’t trust anyone. Not completely, not fully, no matter how much I love them. I feel very alone.

He stops writing. Reads it over. Feels his lips quirk up into a wry smile. He’s certainly not sending that.

But the smile fades away after a moment. He supposes that he hoped writing it all out would make him feel better, but if anything, he feels more tired. Drained. Wrung out. Blank.

He fishes around for a new, unmarred sheet of paper.

Dear Phil, he writes, All is well here in L’Manberg. The city is thriving, and my people are well. I really do want you to visit sometime—but not yet, of course! We’ve been having a spot of trouble with creeper holes lately, and I don’t want that to be your first impression. Between you and me, it’s just a little bit embarrassing.

It’s been a while since I last wrote. I do apologize for that; I don’t know where the time goes. There’s always so much to be doing, and I’m more and more thankful for this chance every day. It’s a lot of fun, having a country of our own, and we’re all working to make it as good as it can be. You should see Niki’s bakery—you haven’t tasted heaven until you’ve tasted something Niki’s baked, I swear. She’s a goddess, really, an essential pillar of our society. Baked goods make the world go round.

Tommy and Tubbo are well, and getting into just as much trouble as usual. Fundy grows up more and more every day. I’m so proud of them all.

Be careful of undead infants, and tell Technoblade I said hello, if you get the chance.

All love,

Wilbur

He sets down his pen and rereads. He’s satisfied with that, and more importantly, Phil will be as well. Now all that’s left is to let the ink dry and—

“Hey, boss man,” Tubbo says, opening the door to his office without knocking. He startles, violently. “How’re things coming?”

His heart shouldn’t be racing. It’s just Tubbo. But he came in without warning, which is—irritating. It’s irritating. That’s what it is. He feels himself flushing, just slightly, but surely it’s annoyance.

“There’s a lot of ‘things’ you could be referring to,” he says. “Are you going to be a little more specific?”

“Nah,” Tubbo says, meandering further into the room. But it’s not a regular meander, it’s a Tubbo sort of meander, which means that he’s here for a purpose. He just doesn’t want to reveal it just yet, or perhaps he’s figuring out how he wants to approach it. “Just wanted to know about general things. Big, vast things. Deep things.”

“Deep things,” he repeats, nodding. “Not much of that going on at the moment. Not a lot of deep things in paperwork.” He pulls the nearest sheet of paper closer to him; technically, that’s what he ought to be doing, not writing letters to a father that’s worlds away. He scans the words; it looks like something complicated about trade, something that sets his head to pounding already. The words swim, like they’re dancing, like they’re taking glee in the way he can’t comprehend them.

“I thought there were lots of deep things in paperwork,” Tubbo says, and he looks back up. “I thought that’s why the print is always so small.”

“Maybe,” he says.

“It makes sense to me,” Tubbo says. “Wilbur, is your hair really white?”

He freezes. “What?”

“Niki said that your hair is turning white,” Tubbo says. “Like an old man’s.”

Anger flares. He thought—he didn’t like that she found out about it, but he at least thought he could trust her with it. Thought that she would keep it to herself, that she wouldn’t let it spread to others, to others that might take it and try to use it as a knife to his jugular. But here is Tubbo, and Tubbo is so obviously staring at his hair, eyes flicking across his forehead and around his ears, and he won’t see anything. He double-checked when he arrived at the office; all of the white is under his hat. But he doesn’t like that Tubbo is looking, that Tubbo is actively trying to see, that Tubbo is treating him like some kind of curiosity, and that Tubbo surely must have some sort of opinion and that opinion cannot be anything but—

“Niki said that hair can turn grey or white if a person is very stressed,” Tubbo says, casually. “Are you very stressed, Wilbur?”

Oh—oh, fuck. Is that actually a thing that happens?

“I told her, it was a bad dye job,” he mutters, glancing back down at his paper. The words remain incomprehensible, but he’s not focusing on it. He nudges his pen with his finger, latching onto the light clicking sound it makes as it rolls and then comes to rest.

“Yeah?” Tubbo asks doubtfully. “What, were you trying to dye your hair white?”

He grits his teeth. “Was there something you needed, Tubbo?”

“Nothing I needed, really,” Tubbo answers. “I just wanted to see how you’ve been doing. Seems like forever since you came out of this office. Do you live in here now or something?” He keeps talking before Wilbur can reply, which is just as well, since he might as well live here, considering the state of his room. “And I think I’ve got a new design for a TNT cannon. Kind of streamlined, you might say, if you wanted to check it out. But I think you should just come and hang out with me and Tommy sometime. You never really do that anymore.”

He has a few feelings about TNT cannons. He doesn’t think about TNT too often, because when he does, his mind fills with fire and smoke, and his heart starts beating faster, climbing into his throat, and he wants to run, wants to run far and fast and away, wants to sit and shake until his body can’t move anymore, even when he knows very well that nothing around him is exploding, that his country is secure and his friends are safe. But some days, he can’t so much as smell smoke without a memory rising up to overwhelm him.

Once, he found himself zoning out in the middle of a conversation, a nearby campfire taking him far away from himself, and be barely returned in time to cover for his lapse.

He’s not a fan of TNT cannons, and he can’t bring himself to pretend to be, not even for the sake of Tubbo’s enthusiasm. And—

Hanging out with him and Tommy sounds nice. He misses them, he admits, and some part of him misses the old days, the first days and weeks and months on the server, when it was them and a dream and his fingers dancing on the frets of his guitar, his voice strong and steady and hopes high on the wind, words ready at his lips and Tommy a force of chaos at his back and Tubbo clever and quick by his side, and he just—misses it. Misses them. Misses it all, misses the days before so much was riding on his shoulders.

But he hasn’t the time.

“I’m sorry, Tubbo,” he says, and tries on a smile. “I’m a bit busy right now. Take a rain check?”

“Sure,” Tubbo says, and shrugs. “Later, then. You say that a lot, though, do you know that?”

He winces. Tubbo smiles. He means no harm. Probably. He thinks he would know if Tubbo meant him harm.

And then, Tubbo leaves, and the tension leaves him all in a rush, leaving him—exhausted. Exhausted, and near tears, for some reason, but he blinks those back. That can wait. He doesn’t cry in his office. That’s unprofessional; anyone could walk in on him, and then where would he be?

What was he doing before Tubbo came in?

Right. The letter. He glances it over, scoops it up, and tucks it away in an envelope. He’ll chuck it at the next crow he sees.

---

It’s Tommy who barges in next, a day later, though at least this time, he’s somewhat expecting it. Because if Tubbo knows, then Tommy knows. That is simply the way of the world. He has a difficult time imagining anything ever coming between those two, even information that would be better kept to oneself.

“Why the fuck is Tubbo going on about your hair, then?” Tommy says, with no preamble, and despite himself, Wilbur smiles. That’s Tommy, all the subtlety of a charging bull. And the question is just as irritating as it was yesterday when it came from Tubbo, but he’s more prepared for it this time. He looks up from his work—work that he’s actually doing, at the moment, and he feels rather proud of himself for it—and meets Tommy’s gaze squarely.

“I’ve had an unfortunate encounter with some hair dye,” he says. “The hair dye won.”

“What the fuck?” Tommy says, but there’s already a laugh in his eyes. Good. Tommy is fairly easily deflected, he’s learned. Because Tommy looks up to him, he knows, and that means he’ll willfully look away from any evidence suggesting that perhaps he is not worthy of admiration after all.

It makes him sick, the way he’s thinking about it. Makes him feel like he’s using Tommy, somehow, taking advantage of his affection, when really, that’s the last thing he wants to do. Tommy is his little brother, his little brother by choice, by years spent on the road together, by hushed conversations in the dead of night as the stars bear witness, by all the little intricacies they’ve learned about each other as time continues to pass. Tommy is his little brother, which means it’s his job to protect him, as best he can. He’s done a piss-poor job of that lately. Tommy only has one life left now.

So he can’t fail him again. And perhaps it’s selfish of him, but he doesn’t want Tommy to think he’s failed, either. If it ever turns out that Tommy hates him, he thinks it might kill him.

“Can I see?” Tommy asks, and he prepared for this, too, braced for it. With a long-suffering sigh, he sweeps his hat off his head and angles his face forward, letting Tommy take a good look.

“Satisfied?” he asks.

“Holy shit,” Tommy says. “How the fuck did you manage that?”

“Very impressively,” he says, and puts his hat back on. He’s sure to tuck all the white back under it. It’s a practiced motion, by now. “Or perhaps not very impressively, as it were.”

“Well, it looks sick,” Tommy says, and Wilbur glances at him immediately. He doesn’t seem like he’s lying. He seems almost—impressed? But he sees him looking right away, and immediately backtracks. “Sick as in disgusting, obviously. It makes you look old. Like an old, old man.”

Tommy’s joking, of course, is all bluster and smoke, no fire. But something in his chest stings, and he realizes that the words hurt, and more than that, they hurt because it’s an echo of what he tells himself. He doesn’t like to look in the mirror anymore—though he never did to begin with, actually—but he is well aware of what he looks like. The white hair is just one more symbol of his failing faith, his lack of ability to handle the job that he set himself out to take in the first place. He should be able to do this, and yet, he can’t, and the white hair—well.

After what Tubbo said, it can only mean that he’s weak. Physical proof of his incompetence. That’s really the only way to look at it.

“Shut the fuck up, child,” he says. “Why don’t you go and find a juice box to drink?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Tommy says, and the song and dance is familiar. Tommy rolls his eyes at him—the disrespect in this house is unbelievable—but he turns to go, and that means that Wilbur’s won.

What he’s won, he doesn’t know. Some more self-disgust, maybe. That’s what it feels like.

Lying to Niki. Lying to Tubbo. And now, lying to Tommy. What a stunning specimen of humanity he is. Working through them all like he has a checklist.

And then, Tommy stops in the doorway and looks back.

“Wilbur?” he asks. “You really are alright, aren’t you?”

And that gives him pause. Tommy’s not supposed to ask him that question. If anything, he’s the one who’s supposed to be asking Tommy that.

“It’s just that,” Tommy continues, “I don’t see you around so much, these days. Except for when there’s a problem, and you come out to try and solve it with, with your words and shit. Diplomatic shit, innit? You do that, but you don’t just—you never come to just spend time with us anymore, like how it used to be. And I just sort of miss that, you know? So I was thinking that maybe we could try and do that again, sometime soon? Just, hanging out, like the good old days?”

The good old days.

He doesn’t quite have the heart to tell Tommy that the good old days are long over, that they have been long over since the day Sapnap came to arrest them all for starting a drug empire and the forest around them was set ablaze, since the day they declared independence from the Dream SMP, since the day he in all his naivety declared that all they had to do was ignore the conflict and it would pass them by, since the day he was proven so very, very wrong. Since the day he learned that as much as he values his words, his diplomacy, his efforts toward nonviolence, some people only recognize power in iron and steel.

Since the day he watched his men, his comrades, his family die around him, and knew that he led them to that fate. Since the day Tommy traded his life and then his discs for their independence, and he knew that he couldn’t do a thing to help.

The good old days are long gone. The good old days belong to a different version of him, one that was young and hopeful and stupid, one that had no idea what he was getting into. And he likes to think that he’s still hopeful, that he still strives for a better future, but—

He’s learned. Nothing comes easy, here. There will be no more halcyon summers. The days are getting colder, and there will be no more rest.

“Sure,” he says, and this lie tastes far more bitter than all the rest. “I’d like that.” He gestures at his desk. “I’ve been really busy, but I would like to spend time with you. I’ll let you know when I can, alright?”

And Tommy believes him. He sees it in his answering smile, and he hates himself.

“Sounds good, big man,” Tommy says. “See you later then, yeah?”

“See you later,” Wilbur agrees, and then Tommy, too, is gone. He’s alone in his office, with his duties and his thoughts, and neither of them are kind.

Not that he thinks himself deserving of much kindness.

---

He waits two weeks before visiting the bakery again. It’s not completely intentional; he doesn’t have much time to get away anyhow. But part of it certainly is. He doesn’t want to come again so soon, doesn’t want to know how Niki’s going to look at him, doesn’t want her to poke and prod at something that isn’t important, that is a minor, irritating detail. He doesn’t want to discuss it, and he thinks that Niki might try, so he stays away.

But not forever. He can’t bring himself to take so drastic a step, even if his visits are a bit of a distraction. One that, perhaps, he can’t really afford.

So he steps inside and immediately wants to backtrack, because Niki’s not the only one here. Fundy and Jack Manifold are both sat at the counter, and both of them are looking at him now, having swiveled in their seats to watch his entrance. And that means he can’t leave, because if he leaves without saying anything, they’ll ask him why he did that, and he’ll have to make up something to avoid admitting that he’s been a little bit terrified of interacting with people lately. Because absolutely no one can know that.

Because it’s stupid. Pathetic. He’s pathetic, and he’s become quite accustomed to that word. It seems to live in his head now, like it’s made a nest in his brain, a little roost. Pathetic. Everything he does feels pathetic to him, and probably to everyone else around him.

“Oh,” Jack Manifold says. “Hi, Wilbur. Didn’t expect you in.”

Fundy doesn’t say anything. Just blinks at him, tail swishing. He finds that he doesn’t know what to say. But he needs to think of something, some reason for being here, and if he can manage it, some excuse for extricating himself quickly. The silence has gone on just a little too long, and he’s been standing in the doorway for a full five seconds now, and he needs to come in completely because it’s weird, what he’s doing, and they’re going to call him on it.

And then, Niki pops her head between the two of them, leaning far over the counter, resting practically all of her weight on it.

“Wil!” she says, and smiles. “I’m glad you came! I’m making honey bread, and I know you like that.”

And just like that, he relaxes. Not completely, but to ask that of him would be to expect the impossible. It’s enough.

“I do,” he agrees, and steps further in, letting the door close behind him. “Seems I have good timing.”

The tension in the air—imagined or real? He’s not sure—dissipates. Jack grins at him, raising a glass of—probably not alcohol? He doesn’t think Niki keeps alcohol stocked in here, or at least, none other than the cooking variety. Might be milk. And Fundy still doesn’t say anything, but his tail keeps twitching, and his eyes keep darting between him and the empty stool next to him, and he really hopes that’s an invitation, because that’s how he’s going to take it.

He slides onto the seat, letting his coat fall behind him. His hat, he keeps on. He’s not laying his face on the counter today. Not with other people here. He probably wouldn’t have anyway, tempting though it is. He always feels sleepier in here. It’s probably the warmth.

But he won’t fall asleep.

Niki’s gone back over to the ovens, inspecting her bread. He can smell it on the air, fresh and sweet, and his stomach twists. Has he eaten today? He’s not sure that he has. Though he definitely did yesterday—evening. He thinks. Definitely. A couple apple slices shoved in his mouth, swallowed without really tasting them. But it counts.

“What have you two been up to lately?” he asks. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Not too much,” Jack Manifold answers easily. “Mostly been hanging around Tommy and Tubbo. Getting into mischief, you might say. Nothing too serious or anything!” he is quick to add, seemingly remembering exactly who he’s talking to. “Nothing—I mean, nothing illegal, no, sir. Not us. But, you know, it’d probably be best not to share the details.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Fair enough,” he says. “As long as it’s not something that I’m going to have to clean up later.”

“We’ve already cleaned up,” Jack says.

“Good.” He looks at Fundy, and affection blooms in his chest, sudden, almost overpowering. His boy’s grown up of late. He can barely remember it happening. It seems that only yesterday he came up knee-high, and now, he’s a man in his own right. But still his little champion, always. “How about you? I know we haven’t been fishing yet. I’m sorry—you know that’s the first thing on my list when I finally get a bit of time.”

Fundy glances away. “I know,” he says. “I’ve been fine.”

“I’m glad,” he says, and Niki saves him from having to say anything else—though why he thinks of it as a rescue, he isn’t sure—by walking back over and placing some bread on the counter before them.

“Fresh from the oven,” she says, “so it’s hot. Be careful.”

It smells nothing short of divine. Niki smiles, pleased, as Fundy and Jack reach for a piece right away, and he isn’t far behind them. Though he tries to be a little more neat about it than the other two are being. The way they’re digging in, he’d think that they’re starving. Frankly, he can’t blame them for it, not when it’s Niki’s food on the line, but he still tries to have a bit more decorum.

“Niki,” Jack says, mouth full, “you are an angel among mere mortals.” Fundy doesn’t say anything, but his tail is swishing happily.

Niki rolls her eyes, and takes a bit of bread for herself. “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she admonishes. “But thank you, Jack.” And then, her gaze drifts to him, and he finds himself stiffening. For no reason. It’s Niki. It’s just Niki. He trusts Niki. She’s basically his best friend, and he’s comfortable here. He is. This is a place of safety, as much as there are such places to be found. Safety, true safety, is not a thing that exists, not really. But here is as close as he can get to it.

Why can’t he let himself unwind?

Is it because Jack and Fundy are here? He hopes not; that wouldn’t be fair to them. They are his countrymen, his citizens, and more than that, Fundy is his son. What would that say about him as a parent, if being around his child makes him nervous? Not just nervous in a I-hope-I-don’t-fuck-up-my-kid way, but in a I-don’t-feel-safe-here way?

But his shoulders are stiff, slightly hunched. He can’t force them down. So he has to hope it’s not too obvious, that the lines of his coat disguise the hard set of his posture, a stance that indicates he thinks there’s a threat, if they know how to read him right. Which they shouldn’t. They shouldn’t.

“How about you, Wil?” Niki asks, and he takes another bite of bread. Small, so as not to get crumbs everywhere, and he swallows before answering.

“It’s as good as always,” he says. “Do I have to say it?” Though it sits heavier in his stomach than usual, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m glad,” she says. “It’s been a little while since the last time I saw you. You are eating properly, right?”

It’s concern, not an accusation, no matter how misplaced. The question shouldn’t raise his hackles. But it does, and all that’s left is to keep it from showing, to keep it from his voice.

“Of course I am,” he says, and before he can get anything else out, Jack laughs.

“Wouldn’t do to have our president starving on us,” he says, and his voice is light, full of laughter, joking. It’s a good thing that Jack feels comfortable enough to joke with him. He’s glad, because—he doesn’t know him all that well, definitely doesn’t trust him, not yet, but Tommy and Tubbo seem to like him, so it’s good that he’s fitting in, that he’s found a place, that he likes it here. Though liking isn’t always enough to stop the betrayal before it comes. He ought to keep a closer eye on him, just in case, but—that wasn’t the point of this.

The point is that, joking or not, Jack is completely right. It wouldn’t do to let his eating habits interfere with his duties. He’s already weak; is he going to add malnutrition on top of that? Never mind that he often doesn’t feel like eating, these days, that he really only has an appetite when he’s here, in the bakery. He needs to keep his strength up so that he can get things done. And he can’t force himself to sleep, so that problem is out of his hands, but he can force himself to eat.

Jack couldn’t have known what he was prodding at, of course, when he made the comment. But he takes another bite of bread anyway. It’s tough to swallow, even though it tastes delicious. He doesn’t know why. He’s never had an issue eating Niki’s food before. He hopes this doesn’t become a pattern.

And he hopes it’s not because there’s other people here. It would be an explanation, at least, but not one he likes. The implications there wouldn’t be—good, to say the least.

“Jack,” Niki says quietly, admonishingly, and he wishes she wouldn’t, because he doesn’t want Jack to examine what he’s just said, to analyze it as anything other than a joke. So he musters a smile, a quirk of an eyebrow, and Jack grins back at him.

Safe territory. Level ground, even footing. Relatively speaking.

And then Fundy pipes up.

“Hey, Wil,” he says, and Wilbur wonders, suddenly, where he picked up the habit of calling him ‘Wil’ or ‘Wilbur’ more often than he calls him ‘dad’. Not that he minds it, but it’s curious. Could it be from him? He himself calls Phil by his name more often than not. Perhaps it’s genetic. But then Fundy continues, “Is your hair actually, like, turning white?” and Wilbur is no longer interested in thinking about little details like that.

He’s tense again. Tense enough now that they can probably see it, even without looking too hard.

“Why is everyone so interested in my hair, lately?” he asks. “It’s just hair. Grows out of everyone’s head. Except for yours, Jack Manifold.”

“Point,” Jack Manifold agrees, but there is a gleam in his eyes, behind his glasses, that says he too is interested in the direction this conversation has taken. Not ideal.

“It’s just that,” Fundy persists, “it’s a little bit weird, right? If it’s turning white like that? Is that normal?”

“It’s not ‘turning white,’” he says, which might be a mistake, because he’s lying through his teeth, now. “It was a bad hair dye incident. Nothing you need to be concerned about.”

Jack laughs. “How’d you manage to fuck up hair dye that badly?” he asks, and the way the question is phrased is irritating; he doesn’t want Jack to start thinking he’s an incompetent fool who can’t dye his own hair properly. But he’ll also take this line of questioning over the other, so perhaps it balances out.

Except then, Niki splays both her hands on the counter. Any earlier levity that she had is now gone.

“Is that so?” she says. “That’s not what you told me.”

His heart is pounding again. He really, really hopes that he’s not developing a condition of some kind. He’d know if he were having a heart attack, wouldn’t he?

“I’m pretty sure that is what I told you,” he says, and Niki shakes her head.

“No, you told me that it wasn’t dye, when I asked,” she says. “And then you said that it was, but you were lying.”

She doesn’t sound angry, which is perhaps the worst thing about all of this. She doesn’t sound angry that he’s lied to her, taken advantage of her trust and fed her a blatant falsehood. Her voice is calm, matter-of-fact, and there’s a glimmer in her eyes that isn’t annoyance or betrayal or any of the other emotions she should be feeling. Instead, it’s concern. That blasted concern again.

He doesn’t deserve it.

“Really?” Jack says. “Huh. Well, what’d you do that for, then?”

He’s changed his mind. The worst thing about all of this is that there are other people present. That he’s not alone with Niki, which would still be an undesirable situation, but manageable. Jack Manifold and Fundy are both here, staring at him, expecting answers that he doesn’t want to give, and Fundy—

Why is his son looking at him like that?

“Why are you all so pressed about my hair?” he demands. “It’s hair. You don’t even see it.”

“I mean,” Fundy says, “like I said, it’s just kind of weird, right? I don’t think hair just turns white for no reason. Not unless you’re really old, which you’re not, I don’t think. So I guess we’re just curious about what the reason is.”

He doesn’t want to talk about this. This isn’t why he came here. This place, this bakery, these people, it’s supposed to be an escape from his responsibilities. The only one he allows himself, even though he knows he shouldn’t. It’s the one place where he doesn’t have to think about his own failings, where he can relax a bit and let himself be, if only for a little while, but here they are, pushing him on this, and he doesn’t want it. Doesn’t want to be reminded of his incompetency. And they don’t know, can’t know exactly what they’re doing to him, but—

He slams his hand against the counter, sudden emotion boiling over. They all jump, the three of them. Niki’s eyes widen, and Fundy’s ears press back against his skull.

“Then don’t be,” he snaps. “Leave it the fuck alone. It’s really none of your business, is it?”

There is a moment of silence. The only sound is the crackling of furnaces.

“I guess not,” Fundy mutters, and he realizes what he’s done.

He’s just snapped, lashed out at his friends, his countrymen, his son, and for what? Because their questions are stressing him out? He should have turned around and left the moment he saw them in here, no matter what they would have thought, because this is worse. This is so much worse than that, and now he feels like an absolute shitstain of a human being. What kind of person gets so fucking upset over questions about his hair?

“I’m sorry,” he says. Too little, too late. “I didn’t mean—” Fundy is looking at him. They all are, and suddenly, he can’t bear it. Not any longer. “I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot of work to do. I really should be going. Thank you for the bread, Niki.”

It’s painfully transparent, and he is very aware of the fact that it’s the exact same way that he rushed out of the bakery when he was last here. Except this time, there are more people here to witness his shame.

History repeats itself, he thinks, bitterly. History repeats itself, and it only gets worse.

But he’s not staying here. He can’t. He just—can’t. Because he feels very upset over such a stupid little thing, and he’s upset that he’s upset, and now he’s upset other people, and he can’t stay here any longer, because if he does, the gods only know what’s going to fly out of his mouth next.

“Wil, please stay,” Niki says, but he’s already standing.

“Be seeing you all,” he says, and the door isn’t far, but it feels like miles, because he can feel their stares burning into his back as he makes his exit.

“Aw, wait, Wilbur, you don’t have to—” Jack starts, but he’s out the door. He’s out the door, and he lets it swing shut behind him, and the words cut off. He doesn’t have to listen to them. So if Fundy says anything, he doesn’t hear it, and he wonders why that makes him feel so much worse. Worse than he does already, which is no mean feat.

His stomach growls. He’s hungry. How many bites of bread did he take? Two? Three? Not enough to be filling. But somehow, he already knows that if he seeks food elsewhere, it will turn to ash in his mouth. And he can’t go back, not after the scene he’s just made, so he’s going to have to be hungry. Which is fine. He’s fine. He’s fine, even though he’s just fucked everything up, and he rather thinks he might not be able to show Niki his face ever again. So, no more bakery. No more safe place, and wow, he is being a dramatic fuck, isn’t he? But he can’t help himself. He never can.

He should have known better from the start. There is no such thing as safety. No exceptions. He should have tried harder to remember that. And he’s not angry, not anymore, not really, because they weren’t aware of the hornets’ nest they were stirring up; rather, he’s angry at himself, for losing control, for letting himself react, for not being able to handle a simple question with the poise and calm that is expected of him as president.

For being weak. That’s what it comes down to. His weakness. Persistent, and now, persistently on display.

He does a lot of screaming into his pillow that night. It doesn’t help. And sleep, it seems, is determined to continue its avoidance, so the night stretches long, and even his tears eventually run dry.

---

The next day, Niki comes to his office.

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