#i was not expecting that to hit harder than a bag of bricks actually seeing it animated instead of pantomimed at the table

[phantasieandmirare]

Going into Legend of Vox Machina S2E3 thinking I'll be totally fine and being very much NOT FINE by the end of it

[bigwishes]

I would wish to find a bag of rugby kit. I’m approaching my 30s, perhaps I should take playing back up again, or see how it fits.

Oh mate, easy done, you could have always just gone down to your local club and pinched a uniform and started played, but you wanted the magic way so we can do it the magic way.

You find yourself in the changing room of a rugby club, it smells of man musk so bad it makes your eyes water. Don't try asking me for a kit you wanted to find one so start lookin.

Ah, I see you've found a kit, probably left by a club goer, maybe you could join the club too, we'll see how you like it.

Sure the kit smells awful but thats what you get for using someone else's stuff, I hope none of the blokes on the field don't recognise who it belongs to because that might spell trouble. You wouldn't want to get bashed by big ass rugby lads, but its fine, the only identifying mark you can find is a name written on the tag "Goliath". Well no one can see the name on the tag it'll be fine.

You can hear the blokes on the field yelling as you walk out, it sure looks competitive for a casual game and the blokes seem to be tackling the shit out of each other harder than you expected, but no turning back now they're all eyeing you to get your ass over on the field so they can keep playing. You head over nervous, but a lil excited. You join the line up and everything is quite for a moment and you hear whistle blow.

"okay, casual game, no pre-"

before you could finish your thought you were slammed in a pile of rugby blokes.

You feel something start to grow,

"fuck" you think to yourself "please don't let that be a boner"

But it wasn't, well you definitely had one, but that's not what was growing. In between the guys your body starts to grow, you thighs fill out into strong muscular legs like that of a pro player, you chest inflates with muscle and a layer of fat and hair begins to cover your whole body. The chaos ended and you see the club coach come over and start yelling at some of the players but you finally notice what happened to you.

"W-what the fuck happend to me"

You had to get off the field your uniform was tight around your new massive body, and you feel the weight of your new package straining against the fabric, it was a hot experience and you notice your boner start to come back, but, the game was so fun, maybe just 15 more minutes.

You keep playing for a few hours before being told to get off the field, most guys had gone home and the club coach tells you to pack it in as actual players will be arriving soon.

Walking off to the change rooms you cannot believe what happened, you got a second wind in life, and a club that's fun to play at. You can't wait to come back tomorrow after work.

Staring at the mirror you smile at the new you, but something is wrong, a ringing in your ears. Your head is fucking killing you like 16 years worth of concussions all hit at once. Stumbling forward your head smashes into the mirror cracking it. Correcting your stance you stare in the broken mirror and feel the same sensation of growth again. Watching yourself you notice as your new body continues to fill out with mass and start to get taller. The kit stretches over your body making the jersey look like a crop top. Drool begins to form in the corner of your mouth and drip down to your chin. The club uniform begins to smell clean as it seeps into your skin. Your pours erupt with sweat and stench 20x worse than what the uniform ever was and the headache starts to subside.

Two men walk into the changing room, one being the club coach and another a tall clean cut guy in a suit.

"and this bloke right 'er is a big fella we call Goliath"

you look at them trying to come up with words but all that comes out is "I-I-I-m-m- me- me big" lifting your meaty hand your sloppily whip the drool off your chin and smear it on your cheek.

"yeah, big guy ain't go no brains up there, but he's built like a brick shit 'ouse"

"Alright Tim, we'll buy him, I'll give you $50k for this one"

"FUCK YEAH JOHN, 'ell be a great player for ya"

"how do you keep fining these players"

"ya know me john, I got the magic touch"

They keep talking but you cant figure out the business talk, you just stupidly blink and keep drooling. The next thing you know you are on a bus with a bunch of other players arriving at a stadium with a roaring crowd.

Sorry mate, unlucky, the coach of the club wished he could sell players to the pro teams, so I gave him a bunch of cursed uniforms. Most of them didn't do too much from a size up and enslaving them to the pro team that bought them, they could still be themselves, just forced to be pro players. You on the other hand stumbled on the Goliath kit and well now look at you.

7ft tall brick wall rugby machine!

well, you did say you want to play more so get out there and have fun boys!

[ateezmakemeweep]

seonghwa x reader x yeosang; love triangle au

word count: 35k

angst, fluff, smut

it was in your first class of the semester, intro to creative writing at nine a.m., that you met kang yeosang.  

you didn’t know what to expect from the college experience, leaving the safety and familiarity of your hometown to come to a new city full of strangers and endless possibilities.

one of them being an all-consuming, butterfly-inducing first love that you missed out on from years of being socially anxious and reclusive.

it all started when you showed up late to your first class, red-faced and flustered and apparently very forgetful.

you sealed your fate the moment you borrowed a pen from the cute boy next to you, sneaky looks and shy smiles eventually morphing into so much more.

september - freshmen year

you’ve seen movies and shows and even heard some things in the halls of your high school about college classes. how they were so much harder than anything you’d been exposed to but also came with more freedom.

you didn’t need a certain color or book for the subject, you could freely leave to go the bathroom or get a drink, you didn’t even have to show up for all the professor cared.

it was also known that there were many different types of people in college: the stereotypical frat boys, boasting about parties and girls as they wore cut-off shirts and showed up to class hungover.

there were the edgier teens and young adults, finding their own look away from the eyes of their parents with piercings and tattoos and brightly colored hair that caught the attention of the older, snooty professor.

and then there was everyone else.

students like you who, maybe, didn’t fit in anywhere yet or didn’t know where they were gonna fit in; but, truthfully, fitting in was the last thing on your mind.

because it was the first day of classes, bright and early in the morning, and you were scrambling into the grand brick building, panicked and breathless, as you searched desperately for room 204.

you set an alarm and got out of your dorm room and everything, a single dorm you are so eternally grateful you secured. but it was a few wrong turns and entering one of the wrong buildings on the other side that landed you your current fate.

winded with messy hair and slightly red cheeks as you entered what you were praying was the right room. the professor was still doing introductions via a powerpoint and barely sparred you a glance, allowing you to easily slip into the first available seat.

you took the professor doing her own introduction and going over the syllabus to catch your breath, calm down and relax yourself because okay, yeah, that was a bit of a mess but you’re here in one piece now.

you made it in without getting scolded, you didn’t fall on your face or trip over the outdated tan carpet and you’re pretty sure no one even noticed you.

“i’ll spare you the ice breakers because i know you guys are gonna get stuck with some in your other classes,” the professor said, another win for you because you can’t imagine anything worse than trying to talk to someone right now.

“i just have a few notes for you to take and then i’ll let you guys go early. how does that sound?”

there’s a chorus of replies muffled by the sound of students shuffling to open their bags, notebooks hitting the table and the satisfying but annoying click of new pens.

it’s upon opening your own backpack that you realized, not only were you late to your first day of college but, you’d forgotten something as simple as a pen.

you rummage through your bag, hoping one just slipped to the bottom and letting out a quiet, annoyed sigh as you come to terms with this. you should’ve just brought your laptop, you already see several other people them so it would’ve been fine.

why do you always have to-

“need one?”

the deep voice from beside you is low and whispered, long fingers attached to a veiny hand offering you a blue pen. you hadn’t even noticed who you sat down next to you, far too consumed in your embarrassment about being late to notice the very attractive, very nice man sitting right next to you.

he couldn’t help but notice you though, if the way your bag hit into his shoulder and the cute little sigh you made when you plopped down right next to him didn’t immediately grab his attention.

his interest was only peeked further when he heard you rummaging next to him, a slight flush on your exposed neck that he can only assume happens when you’re flustered.

his voice ripped you from your frantic searching, eyes meeting his as your breath caught in your throat.

they were deep and brown, with a soft light in them that kept you entranced for far too long. his hair was black and looked soft to the touch, hanging just above his eyes so it didn’t obscure his regal features.

“i... yes please,” you finally answer with a wince, taking the pen from his hold gently. “thank you.”

“no problem,” he responds cooly, keeping his eyes on you for a few fleeting seconds before turning back to the board.

taking notes and focusing on the professor’s voice keeps you occupied most of the time, the pen in your hand and the blue ink on your paper a constant reminder of the person sitting right beside you.

he doesn’t look like anyone you’d ever met before in your life.

sure, you’d had crushes on people from your school back home but that was only because they were nice to you. they weren’t like the majority who made fun of anyone who wasn’t like them - cool and popular and had an interest in going to parties and being social.

there was never anyone who looked like him though, so strikingly attractive and cool even though he’d only said four words to you; maybe this is just showing your inexperience, falling in love at first sight with a person who just gave you a pen and has a pretty face.

“alright we’ll wrap up here. i’ll see you guys next time!”

your professor’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, the rustling of people all around you bringing you back to reality.

you close your book and put the cap back on the pen, grateful you were too distracted by your thoughts to chew it absentmindedly - you probably would’ve had to drop the class if you had to give him back a chewed up, slightly wet pen cap.

you look next to you to see the boy is tucking two books under his arm, about to get up and leave for the day before your lowly spoken voice stops him.

“wait,” you say, quiet but abrupt as he turns around to look at you.

his eyes are soft and glinted with a certain type of amusement, one you can’t quite make out or have the ability to try and determine right now. you can only hold out his pen dumbly, your stare on him blank despite the slight flush to your cheeks.

it only deepens when he holds your gaze, eyes roaming your face before a smile crosses his face and make your heart jump inside your chest.

“it’s okay, keep it,” he says, nodding his head toward your bag.

“oh... are you sure?” you squeak out, “i don’t wanna leave you without an extra pen.”

a deep chuckle leaves his mouth as he nods his head, everything about him, his presence, his laugh, his face making you grow even more out of sorts.

“i’ve got more, don’t worry.”

“oh. well, thank you!” you smile softly, tucking the pen in the pocket of your sweater. “i’ll be sure not to lose it.”

“cool,” he chuckles out, the sweet smile on his face causing yours to widen. “i’m yeosang.”

“y/n,” you introduce sweetly, a lingering silence between you two full of soft smiles and wandering eyes; you aren’t aware of that feeling hanging in the air, something so obvious and palpable when two people are immediately attracted to one another, but he feels it.

he felt it in the way he’d sneak glances at you, your brows furrowed as you took notes or the far away look in your eye when you dazed off with your cheek on your hand.

he didn’t know why he was immediately drawn to you, maybe something about your wide-eyed looks or sweet vanilla scent, but he was sure of two things: he needed to know your name and he had to get here early next class to get the same seat next to you.

november - freshmen year

it took yeosang two months to ask you out.

it proved to be one of the more challenging things he’d done within these past two months of school - not because he was nervous or thought you weren’t interested but because getting you to open up was incredibly trying.

he knew you were interested though, if the way you alcoholism when you saw him or continued to sit next to him was any indication of that.

you learned within the first few weeks of class that he was a freshmen like you, had an older sister who also went to this school and planned with his seven high school friends to all attend college together.

“that’s... kind of crazy,” you giggled, a smile on yeosang’s face hearing your laugh ring through the classroom.

the professor was running a few minutes late, leaving you and him and all your other classmates to chat amongst yourselves.

“do you live together?”

“unfortunately,” he says, the pain in his voice causing you to muffle another giggle into your hand. “i love them, don’t get me wrong, but it’s like... constant chaos. and the house is always mess. it’s a miracle that i won rock, paper, scissors for a single room.”

“well that’s good then,” you say with a smile. “i have a single dorm here, too, actually.”

“oh?” he says, head cocked to the side questioningly. “did you wait too long to apply?”

“oh no, i actually... requested it,” you tell him quietly, a slight blush on your cheeks as you explain yourself. “i do better with my own space. i don’t know if i could be around someone, like, all the time. especially if they had different habits than i did.”

“i get that, completely,” yeosang says, a shudder going through him at the mere thought of some of his roommate’s different habits.

like how wooyoung rarely throws out leftover food before putting it in the sick, leaving disgusting, soggy food out that results in all of them gagging and screaming at him.

or how mingi insists on showering in the late hours of the night, the sound of water and pipes squealing ripping him from his slumber.

or, one of his personal favorites, how hongjoong must always have three pairs of shoes stacked on top of the shoe rack - no more, no less, or he says it throws off the rack’s equilibrium and sends him into a frenzy.

“but doesn’t it get lonely?” he asks, “what do you on weekends and stuff?”

“homework, sleep, sometimes go to a coffee shop and do more work,” you shrug, never realizing how much of a reclusive loser you seem to be until this very moment. “i’ve met a few girls from my classes but our project ended a few weeks ago.”

you felt the need to throw that in there, just so he knows you do in fact see other people from time to time.

“well you should come to one of our parties,” yeosang says with a smile.

“my sister’s friend always throws them at his house. they’re fun and don’t get too sloppy since it’s not people our age trying to catch up on the full college experience.”

dread pools in the pit of your stomach at the word party, not being able to picture anything worse than standing in a overcrowded house being surrounded by sweaty, drunk bodies and the stench of alcohol.

but that sounds far too harsh to say to yeosang, instead giving him a small sympathetic smile as you shrug your shoulders.

“i don’t know, i’m not much of a party person,” you confess quietly.

“oh, c’mon,” yeosang whines slightly, swinging his chair to face you playfully.

there’s a glint of something in his eyes, like he’d be fully prepared to beg and plead with you just to see you outside of the classroom or library.

“it’ll be fun! we’ll be able to hang out without finding our voice and engaging the audience.”

you giggle at the words that have left your professor’s mouth about seven hundred times this semester, cocking your head to the side as you looked at him pleadingly.

partially because, if he keeps looking at you like that, you’re gonna crack.

“i don’t go to parties much,” you tell him, a soft sympathetic frown on your face.

you really don’t wanna reject him. you wanna hang out with him outside of this class and school and engaging the audience but why does it have to be in that type of setting?

but it’s not like you can suggest any other setting.

because then it’ll seem like you’re asking him out on a date and that is something you definitely can’t do.

“why? are you scared?” yeosang teases, his eyebrow quirking up along with the smirk on his lips. “i’ll be with you the whole time. you can even meet my friends, they’ll be on their best behavior for you.”

you’ll never get used to the way he says your name. the way his deep voice makes it sound and how butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“yeosang...” you drag out in a slight whine, feeling bad at how eager he’s becoming and how much you really don’t wanna go. but you wanna go for him. you really, really do.

his smile widens at hearing you say his name, the sound of it falling from your pretty lips never failing to give him the same reaction. he wants to hear you say it more, in every way, in every setting, where people and his friends see that you’re comfortable with him.

“please, y/n?” he asks, his face leaning closer to yours.

your faces are mere inches apart, unaware to everyone else in the room sleeping on the tables or texting on their phones.

his eyes are roaming every bit of your face, lips quirked up in a smile that has your eyes falling down to his lips before back to his glinted eyes.

“for me,” he hums lowly, his smile turning to a smirk when he notices you swallow nervously.

“i really wanna hang out with you,” he says, his voice just above a whisper as he speaks to you and only you. “if you hate it that much, we’ll leave and do something else. but i want us to try. i want you to meet my friends and just have fun for a night with me.”

you let out a sigh, the air between you thick and charged as his eyes become more and more hopeful.

“i won’t leave you once. not even to pee.”

you narrow your eyes at him, pushing him back playfully and ignoring the hard muscle under your hand.

“i don’t wanna hang out with you if you’re gonna piss your pants.”

his deep chuckle booms through the room, waking a few students angrily while grabbing the attention of others. but he can only shake his head at you, eyes falling to your lips when he sees you press your teeth into the soft looking skin.

“then it’s a deal. as long as you’re there, i won’t piss my pants. how does that sound?”

you first met park seonghwa at that party on a friday night.

he was just in the midst of the many introductions and first impressions of yeosang’s seven roommates, sealing his fate as yeosang’s incredibly handsome but standoffish best friend.

you were more so focused on how handsome and happy the black-haired was to see you anyway, a smile lighting up his face the second he saw you emerge from your car.

driving yourself was a sure fire way to not drink and get shit faced, release your ever present desire and crush on yeosang in the form of a sloppy drunken kiss and embarrassing, stuttered confession.

“hey guys, this is y/n,” yeosang said, his hand guiding you by the small of your back. “the girl from my class, who-”

“you haven’t stopped talking about? yeah, we figured,” the friend he introduced as wooyoung chirps, throwing his arm around your shoulder. “you’re just as pretty as he said, y/n. do you want a drink?”

you can barely respond to the happy, chipper boy next to you, too distracted by his words and the pink flush creeping up on your cheeks.

“i... uh... no thank you,” you finally stutter out, an awkward giggle leaving your mouth. “i drove myself here so i can’t drink.”

“now why the hell would you do that!” wooyoung yelps, throwing you an incredulous look before punching yeosang in the arm.

“um, ow?!” yeosang says, a smile pulling at your lips at the sound of his voice.

“why would you invite her and not offer her a ride, you sick fuck? now she can’t drink and have fun.”

“i’ll still have fun,” you reassure wooyoung with a sweet smile. “i don’t drink much anyway. or come to parties, for that matter, so this is all gonna be a new experience.”

“oh shit, seonghwa, you hear that?” wooyoung says, nodding his head toward the dirty blonde with a sour look on his face. “she’s a recluse, too.”

“don’t call her that,” yeosang snips at the same time seonghwa says “don’t call me that.”

wooyoung only rolls his eyes before promptly getting whisked away to dance by mingi and san, leaving you and the others huddled around the couch and side table littered with their beers.

“i’m sorry about him,” yeosang says, breathless and defeated in a way only his oldest friend can make him. “he has no filter or knowledge of boundaries.”

“it’s okay, i like him,” you smile, your eyes meeting his and causing your heart to jump.

he looks better than he usual does if that’s even possible, his black hair hanging low and the faint smell of his shampoo wafting in your nose.

he’s wearing the same soft and sweet but amused expression he always has, the strangest mix of someone who looks like they’d be complete trouble but also someone you could bring home to your parents.

“then you’d be the only one,” yeosang chuckles out, the black-haired turning his head to his friend sitting on the couch. “right, hwa?”

“right,” the man’s deep voice booms, your eyes meeting at the same time.

he’s just as striking as seonghwa but not in such a boyish way. there’s a deep, brooding intensity to him that scares you ever so slightly, like he’s just as hard and cold as his expression says.

“do you wanna go meet the others?” yeosang asks, ripping your gaze away from seonghwa. “i think hongjoong and jongho are around here somewhere.”

“oh- sure,” you smile, looking back to seonghwa to see his eyes already on you. “nice meeting you, seonghwa.”

he hums a response before lifting the beer bottle to his mouth, legs spread and neck rolling to the side as if to deter anyone from sitting near him.

yeosang’s hand finds its way to the small of your back again, the warmth seeping through your shirt and making butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“don’t mind seonghwa, he’s a grouch at these,” yeosang says, a small giggle leaving your mouth as you look back at him.

“he seemed nice,” you assure him quietly, your face way closer to his than you anticipated. you can almost feel his minty breath on your skin, warmth all around you as he guides you carefully.

“they all do.”

“good,” yeosang smiles, his thumb rubbing along your back before stopping you in front of two boys playing beer pong.

“you fucking idiot! you suck!”

“fuck off, this is my first time and i’ve gotten more than you!”

you and yeosang share a look of amusement before he clears his throat, the taller boy’s head snapping toward you both. his eyes light up in some sort of recognition, dropping the white ping pong ball and ignoring the way it bounces onto the floor.

“getting your ass handed to you, i see,” yeosang quips, jongho rolling his eyes before holding his hand out to you.

“i’m jongho, yeosang’s coolest and most talented friend.”

a smile lights up your face despite the more crowded and loud area, taking your hand in jongho’s as you introduced yourself.

“you guys are in the same class, right? tell me, how much does yeosang hit his head falling asl-”

“hey, yeosang!”

all of you crane your heads toward the new voice, a group of guys with red, glassy eyes and shaggy hair looking at yeosang expectantly. you don’t recognize them from any of your classes or around campus, figuring they’re older seniors or friend’s of his sister.

“we’re gonna smoke in the back? you wanna come?”

you’re all too aware of the hand on your back moving to your waist, squeezing your hip lightly in a way that’s oddly reassuring in the moment. like he knows this area is louder and more crowded and making you ready to bolt.

you’re only not because he’s next to you and his friends seem incredibly happy to meet you.

“nah, i’m good,” his deep voice reassures.

you watch the boy’s gaze shift from yeosang to you, eyeing your body up and down before it lands on your hips. a smirk crosses his face and he nods his head, an amused “ahh, okay,” leaving his mouth.

there’s an immature and embarrassing chorus of “oohs” and “ahh,” like the grown college men are actually in a class of immature elementary schoolers who just got in trouble.

yeosang only rolls his eyes and flips them off, your eyes widening just as he turns to you with a soft smile.

“my sister’s friends. they’re cool, just stupid as shit.”

you bite down on your lip so you don’t burst out laughing, giving him a small nod that makes his smile widen.

“you wanna try playing beer pong?” he asks, “i’ll drink your beers so you can’t use that excuse.”

your eyes narrow as you pinch him arm gently, his arm knocking into yours as he narrows his in return.

“fine,” you say, “but i’m gonna be bad. i’ve never played before.”

“jongho plays every weekend and is still terrible,” hongjoong says, patting you on the shoulder reassuringly. “so it’s fine.”

“i’m not terrible!”

but come to find out, after nearly three rounds, he was pretty terrible. either he was pretty terrible or you were the fastest learner in beer pong history at this institute.

“you’re gonna be bad?” yeosang mocks with a smirk, your hands awkwardly bumping as you walk around the block.

the house had gotten far too stuffy and crowded after the second round, the noise growing louder and bodies growing closer to you in a way that made you incredibly nervous.

it was fun at first, even you can admit that. but once it got too loud, your discomfort started to show itself.

your wandering eyes, your teeth in your lip, the way you were no longer laughing or high-anniversary hongjoong despite being on different teams. yeosang had caught on immediately, deeming the third game your last before you took a break outside.

the cold air was refreshing and just what you needed but yeosang’s warm body next to you is nice too. the way your cold hand grazes his warm one, the way you’ll look at him any time it happens and catch him already staring at you.

the way, if it wasn’t for him pushing you out of your comfort zone, you would’ve never gone to an unfamiliar party or played a round (or three) of drinking games.

“i didn’t expect to be good, if you could believe that,” you giggle softly, biting down on your lip as you watch your feet. they’d almost be in sync, if you weren’t a naturally fast walker and yeosang had a slower, smoother swagger of a walk.

“i don’t know if i can,” he says, his voice teasing and light as you walk in the darkness. “beginners luck maybe but it seemed like more.”

“well i’ll probably never do it again so i’m glad we discovered this tonight,” you say quietly, a small giggle leaving your mouth.

lost in the way your heart is pounding and butterflies are in your stomach, you don’t realize yeosang isn’t walking until he pulls you by the elbow gently. your back hits in front softly, your eyebrows furrowing as you turn to look at him.

you’re greeted by a look of mock hurt, yeosang’s eyes staring down at you causing another small smile to grace your face.

“what?”

“i thought you’d come back next week,” he says, voice so soft and sweet it makes the butterflies act up even more; he shouldn’t sound like this when he can also sound so scary and intimidating, the deep tone of his voice never failing to send your cheeks blazing.

“we had fun, no? i really like hanging out with you, y/n.”

for a moment you think you ruined something that barely started to build between you two. that the fleeting look of interest in his eye is gonna be shot to hell because he thinks you’re rejecting him in some way.

but you like him.

you really like him and you really like hanging out with him - you just don’t wanna do it in such a...crowded setting.

“i liked it, too, yeosang,” you confess immediately, faintly aware of his fingers toying with yours. “but... parties aren’t my thing. it got too crowded and i just get uncomfortable but i really liked hanging out with you.”

now he’s gonna think you’re stupid. silly and stupid and, quite frankly, weird that you can’t be in a normal setting for college students. maybe you should’ve just pushed through it, maybe you should’ve just-

“so no parties next time?” he asks, the hand toying with your fingers finally fully grasping your hand. the move makes your heart jump in your chest, the perfect fit of warmth and strength in your hand making you bite back a smile.

it doesn’t stop the blush from crossing your face, though, beyond grateful for the darkness in the sky right now.

“we can just hang out us, too. see a movie, go to dinner, whatever you wanna do.”

“so like a date?”

you don’t know why you blurt that out but you’re beyond embarrassed when you realize you do, your eyes growing wide and face heating even more; if the ground swallowed you up right now, you wouldn’t even mind.

a deep chuckle leaves his mouth and it only makes you more embarrassed, your gaze dropping and head falling ever so slightly.

he crouches so he’s staring up at you, a teasing smile on his face that brings a frown to your lips.

“i’m sorry, i don’t know why i-”

“yes, a date,” he says, successfully cutting you off as he rises to his full height and lifts your face to look at him. his finger’s resting under your chin and he’s standing even closer to you, eyes roaming you in such a way that makes you stare back dumbly.

“let me take you on a date. how does tomorrow sound?”

your eyes roam his for a few silent seconds, half because you’re in shock and half because you’re still embarrassed, until you realize he’s standing there awaitingly.

eyebrow quirked cockily and eyes full of amusement, like he somehow already knows you’re not gonna say no to him.

“i... tomorrow’s good,” you finally say, not being able to help the big smile that crosses your face.

the sight causes his heart to lift in his own chest, leaning down to press a soft and surprising kiss to your cheek. it’s simple and chaste and sweet but it makes every bit of you feel even more warm and happy, excitement bubbling inside you as he pulls back and interlaces your fingers together.

dinner and a movie turned into a very impromptu trip to the store for blankets, food and a picnic basket.

the restaurant yeosang planned on taking you to, a new italian restaurant in the center of town, had a two hour wait and the new romcom that followed was sold out for the night, leaving you and yeosang in his car trying to come up with a new course of action.

you insisted that you didn’t care what you did, that you could just go back to your dorm or his apartment and order take out or watch a movie there.

but he noticed you looking at the sky absentmindedly, a far away, fascinated look in your eye at the few visible stars and had an idea of his own.

he refused to tell you what you guys were shopping for, just that you’d see when you got there and could guess as you went along. it had all been so strangely intimate and domestic, yeosang pushing the cart as you threw things in after looking at him pleadingly.

“y/n, i told you to buy the whole damn store if you want. you don’t have to look at me like that over a box of cookies.”

you narrowed your eyes, insisting you will absolutely not do that.

“i just don’t know why you’re not letting me pay for anything. not even gas,” you whine.

he rolls his eyes silently as he pushes the cart along, a smile pulling at his lips as he walks past you.

“and you haven’t even told me what we’re doing!” you yelp after him, running after him like a child who doesn’t wanna lose their parent. he cranes his neck back as he raises an eyebrow, ushering you along to “find out what his genius plan is.”

when he goes down the bedding aisle telling you to pick out the fluffiest blanket, you look at him with suspicion all over your face. a smile pulls at his lips as he ushers you over himself, his hand lingering on your waist.

“this is the nice kind,” you tell him, a happy smile on your face even though it’s white and could very well be stained and destroyed.

“then put it in, pretty girl,” he says lowly, a squeal threatening to leave you as as butterflies erupt in your stomach. a smirk crosses his lips when he sees you get flustered, tightening his hold on your waist for a moment before dropping it entirely.

his real course of action starts when you guys are done shopping, fruits and cookies and crackers stocked in the cart along with a hidden gem he snuck under the cart tray.

it’s by a stroke of luck that, when you guys pass the bathrooms, you ask if it’s okay if you run in there quickly. he tells you to meet him in self check-out as he pays, hauling ass to the register and sticking all the items in a reusable bag.

you come out with a sympathetic smile, asking him for the tenth time if you could please give him some money for tonight’s date.

“absolutely not,” he insists, grabbing your hand so naturally, it’s like you guys have done this for longer than two days. “it didn’t go the way i intended so i have to make it up to you.”

“no you don’t,” you whine quietly, looking up at him as a biting gust of winds sends you shivering. “this is fun, too. you’re just nice to be around.”

a smile lights up his face as he peeks down at you, his hold on you tightening before you quickly reach his car.

you ask where you guys are going for half the ride, a mischievous and coy smile on your face as you beg him to tell you where you’re going and what you’re doing.

you face him the entire time you do so, your fingers toying with his on the middle console. he doesn’t give you any hints but makes sure to keep his hand in yours, soft, sweet chuckles leaving his mouth when you let out more whines and groans.

“just a little longer,” he insists, the warmth of the car and his hand causing your head to rest on the seat.

it’s all very comfortable and calm, the quiet hum of his car nearly lulling you to sleep until you feel the car stop.

your head pops up and your eyes widen when you see you’re down by the beach, about an hour from your town and causing your eyes to gape at him - he just drove this far for the beach in the middle of november.

“the beach?” you ask, a confused smile tugging at your lips. you love it here and you’re certainly not mad, you spend most days in the summer down here, but you guys definitely can’t go in the ocean right now.

“yup,” he says simply, turning off the car before silently getting out. you watch him through the window as he opens the back door, carefully taking out the bag full of food and blankets before making his way to your side.

you send him a smile when he opens your door and extends his hand, a quiet “thank you,” leaving your mouth as you take his hand. he interlaces your fingers and your hands swing between you two, the chill from the ocean biting and cold but also slightly refreshing from the car’s heat.

“so...” you say once you two stop on the sand, the grains lumpy under your sneakers. you’ve never seen the beach this dark and desolate and it would absolutely unnerve you if yeosang wasn’t beside you. “what exactly are we doing here?”

“you mean you don’t wanna swim?”

your expression causes him to chuckle, disconnecting your hands to lay out a blanket on the sand. your next expression, however, warms his heart more than he’s ever felt before.

your eyes widen as they look at him, a surprised and excited gasp leaving as he pulls out a medium-sized picnic basket.

“when... when did you get that?!” you yelp, moving closer to his larger, warmer body to get a good look at it. “i didn’t even see you pick it up!”

“i was sneaky, right?” he teases with a wink, guiding you by the waist to sit down before placing the basket between you.

you barely notice the harsh gust of wind because of your excitement and surprise, yeosang’s hands draping a blanket around your shoulders before you can even shiver.

“i even packed the food. i didn’t really know how to be sneaky for that so it was pure luck that you went to the bathroom.”

and low and behold, when he opens up the white, woven basket, all the food you got was packed in perfectly. plates and utensils were strapped to the top with two small cups next to the array of fruits, cookies, and several ingredients for sandwiches.

you both happened to like cheese ones, your hands grazing and soft giggles leaving when you both reached for it in the frozen section.

“i... i can’t believe you did this,” you mumble quietly, feeling far more touched and happy than you’re willing to let on. “this is so cute. thank you, yeosang.”

you look up to see the soft smile he’s sending your way, his hand reaching out to cup your cold, red cheek. his thumb rubs over the cold skin for a few seconds, like he’s testing the waters to see if this is too much too soon.

the way you lean into him makes his heart start to pound just a little bit, his head cocked to the side as his eyes roam your face - you look so pretty, even with early signs of windburn.

“of course, pretty,” he mumbles quietly, that word again causing the butterflies to return. “thank you for coming on this date with me.”

you eat your sandwiches and fruit huddled under a blanket together, him wiping a crumb from your face and you throwing a stray piece of cheese at him when he calls you messy.

it’s all very tranquil and comfortable, like you guys have known each other for longer than two months. it’s still just enough time to still be unsure though, if your touches are too much or the way you’re looking at each other is setting yourselves up to be hurt.

you couldn’t care about any of that right now, though, laying down on the blanket and looking up at the sky with yeosang by your side.

you started off close, arms brushing before they eventually stayed glue to each other, and now you’re even closer. your head is just mere inches from resting on his chest, a shiver running through you that acts as the catalyst of him pulling you closer to him.

“c’mere” he mumbled lowly, your body immediately moving closer to hm until his warmth and woodsy scent surrounds you. you smile into his sweater, toying with the ends before his large, veiny hands covers your smaller, cold one.

“this was a really smooth idea, you know,” you say after a few moments of silence, eyes threatening to closer and body relaxing if you continue to lay here in the most comfortable silence of your life.

“oh?” he says, hearing the smile in his voice.

“yeah,” you say, tentatively turning to look up at him. there’s a look in his eye that makes you feel comfortable enough to rest your chin on his chest, your eyes briefly falling to his lips. “i think this was better than dinner and a movie. the stars are really pretty.”

a small smile grace his face as he looks at you, hand reaching up to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. all of his moves and touches tonight have been slow and gentle, like you’re a piece of glass he has to be fragile with.  

you’ve never been treated like that before and it makes your heart flutter, the sweet look in his palpable even in the darkness.

“they are,” he mumbles, his eyes not leaving you as his hand gently moves down your face.

your skin is smooth and cold and he doesn’t think he ever wants this moment to end. the closeness, the wide-eyed look you’re giving him, the way he feels so content and at ease, it’s like he doesn’t know how he lived peacefully before this.

“when’s our next date gonna be?”

a smile lights up your face as a cute giggle leaves your mouth, his hand on your chin constricting your movements ever so slightly.

“this one isn’t even over,” you tease lightly, eyebrows raising playfully. “what if when it ends, you don’t wanna see me again?”

“and why would that happen?” yeosang asks curiously, genuinely confused and positive that that wouldn’t be the case. because as he pulls your face a tad closer to him, your amused expression dropping to one of a surprise, he’s certain of two things.

he’ll never get tired of seeing you and he wants to kiss you right now.

“because, right now,” he starts again, voice low and deep that effects every part of your body. “i wanna kiss you more than anything. and then make sure i see you soon, as soon as possible, really, so i can do it again.”

you swallow nervously as you look at him wide-eyed, the confidence and sureness in his words causing your eyes to drop to his lips again.

you meet in a kiss half way that’s just as gentle and sweet as it is fulfilling. it’s a kiss that shows it’s your first time kissing each other but that’s what makes it so nice for both of you.

it’s slow and chaste but everything about it is pure. there’s no other intention than just kissing, testing out and acting on the attraction that was building the moment you saw each other.

he moves you on your back gently to hover over you more comfortable, your eyes closed as your arms wound around his neck. he doesn’t even make a move to deepen the kiss in any way, his tongue barely flicking out to trace the outline of your lips.

it’s then you pull back breathless, looking at him above you with flushed cheeks and a heaving chest.

“i... i want that, too,” you admit quietly after a few seconds, his eyes on you and yours on him.

because you wanna see him again, you wanna see more of his smile and hear more of his laugh and get to know the boy who briefly his way into your heart and mind so quickly.

“good,” he mumbles, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek before pecking the other one with a smile. “that makes me happy.”

you wanna kiss him again but he flops back down beside you before you can daringly initiate one, pulling you atop his chest again as he wraps his arm around you.

it takes everything in you not to fall asleep right there and then, feeling so comfortable and safe beside him, you’re excited to see how your next date is gonna go with him.

febuary - freshmen year

your second date turned into many more, becoming more comfortable and familiar with each other until, one night, he finally asked you to be his girlfriend.

it wasn’t anything grand, just after a night of late night drives and fast food run. your feet were up on the dash and you fed him salty, fattening fries with the moon as your witness.

he looked over at you occasionally, watching as you sipped from your drink or took a bite of your sandwich and realized in that moment, he needed you to be his.

officially.

because as far as he was considered, you were his and he was yours after your first date stargazing.

“y/n?” you hear him say, your mouth still connected to the straw as you guzzle down your soda. you move your gaze to see him looking at you, nervously swallowing your drink as your eyebrows pull together.

“what?” you ask, immediately wiping at your face and mouth. “is there something on my face?”

a deep chuckle leaves his mouth as he shakes his head, eyes roaming you for a few more seconds before his hand is resting on your face. the movement causes your heart to stutter, eyes widening and heart starting to pound.

you hope he can’t hear it. you think there’s about a 40% chance that he does and those odds are way too high for you.

“i like you,” he says.

the confession is short and sweet and everything about it is genuine. the way his voice drops and he’s looking at you with such a soft fondness, you can’t find the words to respond.

“i really like you, y/n,” he mumbles, his thumb slowly caressing the side of your face.

every stroke of his finger makes your heart pound more and more, your eyes looking up at him with a palpable look of, both, fear and fondness. because you like him, too. you really, really like him but that scares you a little.

so does the way he’s looking at you, touching you so softly and sweetly and not tearing his gaze away from you.

“i want you to be mine,” he finally says, breaking the silence in the car. “will you be my girlfriend?”

his friends took the news of your relationship just as you expected, excited and overwhelmingly supportive, with a few lingering eyes that went unnoticed by everyone.

but that’s because he made sure to keep it that way.

you didn’t go to yeosang’s often but when you did, you made sure to talk and hang out with each and every one of them. some of them were crazier and chattier than others but you found it all very endearing - no matter how overwhelmed and scared it made you.

seonghwa was the only one who seemed to be on your level, able to sit in a room and observe without saying much unless directly spoken to.

you haven’t talked to the handsome boy a lot, just casual greetings and goodbyes, but you just knew you were intimidated by him. he always held such a stern, hard expression on his face, dignified and serious in a way that just didn’t seem to match the group.

the only times you’d see him crack a smile when the boys would start brawling or hongjoong said a corny, uncharacteristic joke.

he did’t make you feel uncomfortable or unwanted though, he always said hi and always made you feel welcomed by making extra food for you or automatically setting an extra spot for you.

it was subtle but it was nice, always making you feel just a little more welcomed by yeosang’s friends - but when valentine’s day came, yeosang did everything in his power to let his roommates know they were not welcomed in their own home for the night.

“what?!” wooyoung screeched when hongjoong broke the news to them. “where the hell are we supposed to go on valentine’s day as seven single losers?! and then get a hotel?! are you nuts?”

yeosang only stared blankly at the boy as groans of protest were heard from the others, grumbles of “who said i’m single?” and “i’m not a loser,” throughout the  apartment.

“when did i say you could never come home you dramatic fuck?” yeosang sneered, “i just asked for a few hours!”

he had been tormenting himself for weeks about what to do for valentine’s day  with you. you insisted over and over again that, really truly, you didn’t want to do anything.

but he thought you deserved it and he’d never actually had a girlfriend during this god forsaken holiday - he had to try it at least once and what better time than with someone like you?

“that might be the problem though,” seonghwa said to him one night, after hearing his friend carry on for hours and hours.

yeosang looked to his friend on the couch with a confused expression, the dirty blonde rolling his eyes.

“she doesn’t like crowds or loud noises. you think it’s really a good idea to bring her out to a restaurant or public place on valentine’s day?”

naturally an extrovert, yeosang would’ve never thought that to be an overwhelming or distasteful prospect. the booming voices of people and laugher and music was something he’d loved all his life but, seonghwa’s right, you don’t like that.

you didn’t like it at the party and you don’t like it here. you don’t like when a restaurant or movie theater is too crowded, always choosing an area that’s more secluded and quiet.

“shit, you’re so right, hwa,” yeosang says, slapping his friend on the arm gratefully. “maybe i’ll just make her dinner here. we can stay in, that’ll be nice, right?”

seonghwa gives a disinterested shrug and yeosang can see he lost his friend already, wondering how the dirty blonde even knew that until he remembers, he’s the same way.

avoids crowds and big outings like the plague, only humoring them because they’d all annoy the shit out of him if he didn’t. and he thinks if seonghwa had a valentine, he’d wanna do the same thing with them.

“okay, okay, okay,” wooyoung says, the only one of the seven that had shit to say per usual. “we will go out and get shit faced if you insist. cry about our sad single lives and the fact we’re not loved this year. but... i ask that you save some left over food and buy us at least two drinks.”

hongjoong knew to rush the boys out of the apartment in a timely fashion after that, already seeing in his mind the brawl that wold ensue between yeosang and wooyoung - and once that happens, everyone else will pick sides and create more chaos.

it leaves yeosang with a little over two hours to prepare the house and dinner, lighting a candle and throwing nonsense into any closet that would fit in until the aroma of spices and flavors filled the air.

he told you to come at seven on an empty stomach, that he’d be providing drinks, dinner and dessert and to not even try bringing him a gift the same way you requested; but when you show up at seven on the dot with a cute little pink bag, he sees you did’t listen either.

“baby... i told you i didn’t need anything.”

“and i said the same thing,” you whine, poking him in the stomach lightly as you walk through the apartment.

it’s the most spotless you’d ever seen the place, a soft touched smile on your face as you picture him scrambling to clean and get the boys out.

“you even cleaned.”

“please, i made the boys do it before i kicked them out.”

“yeosang!” you squeal, narrowing your eyes at your boyfriend of two months. “you didn’t have to do that!”

“believe me, i did,” he assures, pulling you by the hand to the table set for two. he pulls out your chair and you bite back a smile, mumbling a quiet “thank you,” as you watch him prepare two plates of food.

the idea of this always embarrassed you, a cheesy romantic dinner with candles and chivalry and a boyfriend who looks at you so lovingly. but now that you’re here, you know you’ve never felt this happy before.

that seeing him do this for you and only you is one of best feelings in the world; you’re still not crazy about valentine’s day, you find it all very cheesy and dramatic, but you think it just has to do with the fact that you’re with yeosang is why you’re so happy and touched tonight.

“this is good,” you hum through a mouth full a food, a smirk on his face as he reaches over to dap at your messy lips.

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you answer through narrowed eyes, yeosang’s deep melodic laugh quickly melting your annoyed expression way.

“you look pretty.”

your brows pull together in confusion, slurping noodles into your mouth at the exact moment he says that.

you look down at your outfit in contemplation, a simple comfortable outfit you were excited to wear when he asked if you wanted to stay in for valentine’s day.

you were shocked when that was the plan he came up with, knowing that yeosang enjoys going out and socializing every day and night; but that’s what happens when you’re good at it. when you’re so charismatic and joyful and just so naturally draw people into you.

he asked if you wanted to go to dinner or a movie or do a crazier type of date but you didn’t have the heart to tell him no. just told him he can plan it and you’ll go along with whatever he wants.

you ended up getting a text from him asking if you just wanted to stay in. that he’d cook for you and you guys could just hang out and watch movies as long as they weren’t cheesy romantic comedies.

“why do you look so surprised?” he chuckles, ripping you from your thoughts as a small, shy smiles finally rises on your face - you don’t feel very pretty, in fact, you thought you actually looked kind of sloppy.

“i don’t know,” you mumble, a blush creeping up on your face as you twirl your noodles.

you feel his gaze boring into your face, pressing your lips together before finally raising your eyes to him.

“what!” you squeal, face heating up even more in a way that causes a deep, melodic chuckle to leave yeosang.

“you’re cute, that’s what,” he says, eyes roaming your face before they fall on the small, pink gift next to you. “and it’s because you’re cute i’m not mad you got me that.”

you follow his eyes to the bag by your elbow, huffing as you meet his mock harsh gaze.

“how could i not get you something?” you whine. “you never let me buy anything ever! and you made all of this food.”

he watches as you slurp up the last of your food, smiling gratefully at him before standing up from your chair. you take the bag next to you and pad over to him shyly, holding out your hand awaitingly.

he looks at it before meeting your gaze, eyebrow quirked with a smile pulling at his lips.

“what?”

“i wanna give it to you before i do this dishes.”

“like fuck.”

your eyes widen as a laugh bubbles out of your mouth, smacking him in the arm lightly before he loops an arm around your waist. you fall into him with a squeal, your heart stuttering when you’re suddenly in his lap and he’s smiling down at you.

“i- it’s only fair,” you manage to stutter out, feeling silly for being flustered over being in his lap. “you cooked all of this for us.”

there’s a pout on your lips that he can’t help but notice, next to the wide-eyed innocent shock that’s always behind your eyes.

when he pulls you in his lap the same way he did now, watching you shift and move on him in ways he doesn’t think you realize what you’re doing.

when make out sessions turn more intense, his lips trailing down your neck and his hands squeezing your hips that has tiny, small pants leaving your mouth.

when he gets more bold and tells you all the things he wants to do to you when you’re ready, lowly mumbled in your ear so he can pull back and see just how red and lustful you are at the thought of his head between your legs.

he didn’t wanna rush any part of your relationship in that regard.

one because he liked you, he really, really liked you and it wasn’t about that for him, and two because he just knew you hadn’t done much before and didn’t want you to feel pressured in any way.

it didn’t stop his own desires from surfacing. from him getting hard with you on top of him and jerking off to the thought of you when you two would part ways.

it’s feelings he’s trying to push down right now, your wide-eyed look staring at him as a soft, sweet smile pulls at his lips.

“and i’ll clean it for us, too,” he mumbles, his arms wrapping around your waist loosely before his eyes move to the bag - the disdain in which he looks at it could only be described as incredibly dramatic.

“once you see what it is, you’re gonna feel bad for looking at it so meanly,” you say with a swat to his chest, dangling the bag in front of his face.

his interest is peeked, a mischievous look behind his eyes that makes your cheeks flame. a soft chuckle leaves his mouth as he takes the bag from your hand, carefully taking out the festive pink and red wrapping paper.

the first thing he feels is cool metal, his hesitant gaze move toward you only to be met with a soft, encouraging smile. he rolls his eyes playfully, unveiling the gift that has his heart jumping in his chest.

it’s a framed photo of you two he’s never seen before, you smiling at the camera and him smiling at you as his arm rests around your shoulder.

he recognizes it from one of the parties he took you to a few weeks ago, the pretty red dress you wore with black tights under leaving him unable to tear his eyes away from you all night.

there’s even picture proof right in front of him, his gaze so soft and sweet on you he feels the slightest hint of an embarrassed flush on his cheeks.

“you looked so pretty that night,” he mumbles lowly, a low, short chuckle leaving his mouth that has your stomach swooping dangerously. “who took this picture?”

“who do you think?” you quip sarcastically, remembering half the night you were hiding from one particular friend with black hair and a high-pitched laugh.

“wooyoung’s stupid ass,” yeosang grumbles, his finger sliding over the cool metal of the frame.

he has a lot of pictures of loved ones and likes documenting moments with family, friends, even the people he meets once but has a great experience with. but this picture is by far his favorite, the way a smile is stretched across your face and how comfortable you look beside him.

“thank you, baby,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “i love it, my new favorite picture.”

“i wrote something on the back, too,” you tell him sweetly, cheeks warm as you watch his eyebrows pull together.

he looks at you for a few moments, smiling when your lips quirk up and you nod your head encouragingly.

when he flips it over, he sees your neat handwriting in red ink with i’s darted with hearts.

i really like you, too :) happy valentine’s day ♥

a deep chuckle leaves his mouth, cheeks turning pink as he throws his head back and looks at you fondly.

“i never said anything after you asked me out because i was too nervous and shocked,” you tell him honestly, his smile widening as he watches you speak. “so i just wanted to assure you.”

“thank you, baby,” he laughs out, placing the picture down and wrapping his arms around your waist tightly. “i’m glad you’re letting me know two months into this that you do in fact like me.”

a squeal of protest and defense tries to leave your mouth before he shakes his head, cutting you off with a kiss to your lips that you immediately meet. it’s chaste despite the way you’re in his lap, your mouths parting and his tongue licking along your bottom lip.

“your turn for a gift,” he says when he pulls back, both of you slightly breathless. “go wait on the couch.”

“but i wanna do the-”

“i’m just gonna stick them in the dish washer,” he tells you, the look in his eye proving you’re not gonna win this conversation. “just find something for us to watch, okay?”

you stare at him for a few seconds, his gaze and face unwavering causing you to let out a groan and jump off his lap. he smirks to himself as he begins to clean off the table, watching you pad over the couch to turn on the tv.

you seem comfortable in his house.

you look like you belong there and that makes his heart pound in his chest the whole time he puts the dirty dishes away.

he sneaks into his room to grab your gift before joining you, plopping down on the couch next to you and causing a tiny, surprised squeal to leave your mouth.

“you scared me!” you giggle, a quiet “sorry,” leaving his mouth as he starts to  dangle a small white bag in front of your face. your eyebrows pull together as you snap your head to him, a content, almost conniving smirk on his face.

“yeosang...”

“i never said dinner was your gift so stop looking at me like that,” he says, his hand on your cheeks squeezing them together lightly.

your lips are pushed together and pouted and he has to resist the urge to kiss them, your eyes shooting daggers into him the only thing holding him back from doing so.

you take the bag with a small sigh, your eyes softening when he smiles down at you.

your heart nearly drops when you see a small black box wrapped in the white, glittery paper, your wide eyes meeting his that makes him throw his hands up innocently.

“not an engagement ring, don’t worry.”

a snort leaves you as you hit his arm playfully, licking over your lips before opening the box with shaky hands.

the first thing you notice is the amount of diamonds.

small, sparkly diamonds in a crescent moon shape that makes your eyes widen. it’s shining under the faint light of living room, the tv blaring and candles from the table filling the room with the aroma of cotton candy and sugar - courtesy of jongho’s love for festive candles.

“yeosang...”

the gift leaves you just as speechless as it does emotional, tears pricking your eyes because while you love it and you’re so grateful, he didn’t have do this; you didn’t expect any gift from him since he cooked you dinner tonight.

“do you like it?”

“of course i like it, i love it,” you’re quick to say, the feeling in your chest the biggest indication of that. “but i didn’t need this, yeosang. it’s too much.”

“it wasn’t,” he insists with a small, half-amused pout, his hand running through your hair before caressing your cheek gently. he smiles when you lean into his touch, thumb running along your smooth skin.

“i saw it and i thought of you.”

you look from him down at the necklace in your hand, a small smile on your face at the memory.

your arms grazed as you laid out on the blanket together, the cold chill in the air bringing your bodies closer and closer together. neither of you even noticed until the warmth of other’s skin sent shockwaves through you, a blush on your cheeks and a shy smile on his face.

“this was kind of better than dinner and movie i think,” yeosang’s deep voice says, breaking the comfortable silence that’s fallen over you. you rest your chin on his chest as you look up at him, a small smile on your face as you nod your head.

“i think so too,” you say sweetly, sticking your cold hands under the blanket. “definitely the best first date.”

a soft smile crosses his face, his cold hand cupping your cheek as his gaze roams over your face. the light of the moon is the only source of light tonight, shining in your eyes with a look that’s making his heart pull in his chest.

he couldn’t tear his gaze away from you, the fascinated, content look on your face as peered up at the sky. take in the sight of shining stars and the crescent moon and the dark waves crashing on the shore.

it’s a sight that’s gonna remind him of you now. the moon and the stars and the distinct feeling of being content and at ease on the beach at night.

“good,” he says with a sense of finality, pressing a sweet, chaste peck to your lips. he smiles when you meet it back hesitantly, everything about it innocent and slow and just how he wants to pursue you.

“the moon’s gonna remind me of you now so i hope our second date goes well too.”

“our second date went well,” you mumble, toying with the necklace in your hand as you observe the amount of diamonds.

you’re almost uncomfortable at the thought of having something like this around your neck, knowing it was expensive and that you’ve never received a gift like this before.

“it did,” he says, the slightly crestfallen look on your face casing him to frown. “do you not like it? is it cheesy?”

your face falls the second you hear those words, the rapid shaking of your head causing a smile to pull at his lips.

“no! no, no, no, of course not,” you’re quick to reassure, guilt building in the pit of your stomach.

“i love it. i really, really, love it and it’s so beautiful. but i didn’t need a gift like this, yeosang. i feel bad that you got this and i got you a $15 frame with a secret picture.”

a deep chuckle leaves his mouth as he rolls his eyes, shutting you up with a kiss to your lips. his hand weaves through your hair and you make a tiny noise against it, clutching the necklace in your hand tightly.

“i wanted to get you it,” he says when he pills back, slightly breathless as he looks down at you.

“it wasn’t about the money. i love that picture and what you wrote on the back,” he teases, your eyes narrowing despite the embarrassed flush on your cheeks. “so don’t feel bad and please accept the gift, baby.”

he must see something in your eyes that shows him he won, a proud smirk on his face as he takes the necklace from your hold and brings it around your neck.

his hands graze your hair before touching the sides of your neck, the feel of his skin on yours causing you to bite down on your lip. his smirk widens as he struggles to clasp the necklace, all nervous feelings subsiding when a small giggle leaves your mouth.

“are you having a tough time?”

“no,” he grumbles, another small giggle leaving your mouth until you’re suddenly pushed down on the couch - necklace successfully on and back pressed up against the cushions.

all laughs and smiles are completely wiped off your face with the pressure of his body on yours, his smirking face above you causing your breath to quicken.

“oh? are you having a tough time now?”

he sounds so cocky and teasing, it should make you narrow your eyes. tease him with just as much of a conniving, wise-ass tone and smug look. but instead, your stomach swoops and your eyes move to his lips and like there’s a break in a dam, your mouths meet in the start of a fervent kiss.

he holds himself above you, tongue slipping in your mouth as he swallows your small, quiet moans. his hand trails itself down the side of your stomach to rest on your hip, the pressure of him and his lips on yours all consuming.

your hand travels to the back of his head, tugging lightly at the strands before a squeal leaves your mouth.

his deep chuckle rings through the quiet apartment as he lifts you up, plopping you down on his lap before connecting your lips again.

it’s the fastest you both have ever moved, your hands toying with the bottom of his shirt while his hands grasp your hips tightly. pulling your body closer to his  and moaning into his mouth when you rub against him a certain way.

you feel him smirk against your lips, pulling back every so slightly to catch the growing hint of lust and desire in your gaze.

“oh? that feel good?”

your cheeks flush at the tone of his voice, swallowing the embarrassed lump in your throat as you nod your head timidly.

“let me know when you wanna stop,” he mumbles, his words kissed along your neck making you sure you never want him to.

your mouths connect again in a fit of tongues meeting and bodies crashing, foreign feelings of arousal coursing through your veins. you guys always took things slow but you were never sure why - if he was doing it for you or if he just didn’t wanna do that step.

but you were secretly even hoping tonight, you’d be able to go further.

that’s why when his hands trail along the bottom of your shirt, warm fingers dipping under to touch your skin, you move into him even more. pulling back to look at him through hooded eyes as you nod your head.

you don’t even have the time to feel apprehensive when you’re sitting there in just a lace bra, exposed and slightly cold with goosebumps on your skin, because yeosang’s quick to assure you.

look at you with a soft, sweet fascination and tell you how beautiful you look for him.

both your shirts hit the living room floor before he’s scooping you up, a surprised squeal leaving your mouth that brings a smile to his face.

he plops you down on the bed shoved in the right corner of the room, clothes littering the floor and a mess of wires near the desk. it’s a little messy but it smells surprisingly clean, like a mix of cologne and yeosang’s natural teakwood scent.

“we don’t have to do this,” he says, his body looming above yours.

because you guys really don’t have to do this, he’d be perfectly content watching movies tonight with an inkling of kissing or touching, but, fuck, does he want to.

he’s wanted to hear you moan and touch you and taste you since you both started dating. since he looked at you under the stars and knew he’d fall for you shortly after.

“i want to,” you confess, a soft blush on your cheeks as you look up at him,

he rolls his tongue over his lips, biting down every so slightly in a way that makes your lower stomach tighten in desire. the look in his eyes is too much, it’s nothing you’ve ever seen before. like he wants to-”

“i want to ruin you,” he mumbles, bending down to press a peck on your neck. “i won’t do it tonight,” he continues, trailing his lips down your chest before bringing his hand to the lace.

his finger traces the red material, sliding one of the straps down before tugging down your bra. his eyes move to your nipple, hardening in the cold air as he feels his cock do the same.

“i’m gonna be slow and gentle and so good to you, baby,” he says, his hot breath fanning over your exposed boob. his lips are so close to touching your skin, the warmth and wetness bringing tingles to your skin.

“i only ask that you moan for me, okay?” he mumbles, his tongue swiping across your nipple causing a choked, strangled gasp to leave you. you feel him smirk against your skin and can’t even be embarrassed by it, just wanting more of him and more of the pleasure he’ll give you.

“doesn’t seem like that’s gonna be a problem though, pretty girl,” he chuckles out, mouth closing around your nipple again as his hands trail down your side.

every sensation seems heightened and overwhelming, completely aware of how heavy your breathing is and the building pit of desire in your stomach. desire that heightens when his hand ghosts past your pants, his middle finger tracing small circles through your leggings.

he can feel your legs widen and a smirk crosses his face, sucking at your nipple once more before pulling back and meeting your lips. you moan at the feeling of his fingers moving quicker, a strangled “yeosang, please,” catching you off guard as much as him.

but it seems to get things in to motion - because your leggings are done and your skin hits the cold air a few moments later, yeosang tugging his shirt over his head before his hands are back on you.

you’re laying beside him, head resting on his bare chest when he slips his hand in your underwear. rubbing quick, skilled circles on your clit as your breathing labors and you whine into the air.

“have you ever been touched like this before, baby?” he mumbles, a shake of your head causing him to stop his movements all together. you whine at the loss of pleasure, looking at him with glossy, confused eyes that makes him hold back a smile.

he likes seeing how desperate you got. how ready and willing and eager you are for him.

“have you ever been touched like this?” he repeats, a croaked whine of “no,” leaving your mouth that makes him smile. continue his blissful strokes on your clit as a finger slowly enters you.

you’re so wet that you welcome the stretch with a moan of pleasure, a deeply grumbled “fuck,” causing your eyes to roll back when he hesitantly adds another.

“you’re so wet, baby. you’re so fucking wet for me.”

you nod dumbly, not being able to find the words as his pointer and middle curl  and he fucks you with his fingers. you moan his name when the pleasure becomes too much, wanting to scream when he suddenly removes his hand from you.

you watch through hooded eyes as he tugs your underwear down with his teeth, his mouth pulled into a smirk until they’re only just past your upper thighs.

because like he’s so eager and can’t wait, like he’s been waiting for this moment since he knew you were gonna be okay with it, he looks down at your bare, soaked pussy with a look of hunger you’ve never seen before.

“let me eat you out,” he says, his words choked out and tone deep and strangled. “please, baby, can i?”

his voice sounds as desperate as you feel and you have to sit up so you can crash your lips on his, the overwhelming need to kiss him coming over you. he meets it back immediately, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses and tongues until you pull back and tell me “please.”

his tongue brings you to your first orgasm, your thighs shaking between his head as your hand runs through his black hair desperately.

when his cock springs free, he circles it around your entrance and enters you slowly. sweet, soft spoken words of “it’s okay,” and “you’re doing so good, angel,” that make the whole experience that much better.

you feel full and he feels so good inside you, both your moans ringing through the air and the smell of sex in the room until he’s coming in you. hips bucking and slamming quickly to follow his high before he flicks your clit a few times to bring you to your second orgasm of the night.

you both lay there after, naked and panting, before he’s up and getting a warm, wet rag. there’s a slight sting but it makes you feel incredibly love and vulnerable, watching as he cleans between your legs with a sweet, gentleness and diligence.

“was that okay?” he mumbles in your hair, the faint scent of sweat and perfume on your skin. you only mumble and nod against him but he needs to see your face in this moment.

see that this was just as amazing and fulfilling for you as it was for him.

and when he meets your gaze, his thumb under your chin to meet his eyes, he can see it was. in your glossy eyes and shy smile and pink cheeks that makes him wanna kiss you all over again.

“it was good. really good,” you confess quietly, a small deep chuckle leaving his mouth as he moves a sweaty stand of hair behind your ear.

“yeah? really good?” he teases, eyebrow quirked as he pecks a playful kiss on your cheek. “just how good?”

your blush intensifies as you hide your face in his chest, his laugh mumbled against your head as you feel his lips press against your head.

you two eventually venture back into the living room after a few more kisses and wandering hands, plopping on the couch fully dressed and cuddled into one another when there’s a commotion right outside the apartment door.

the both of you turn to see the seven other boys barreling through in a drunken, sloppy daze, yunho holding mingi and jongho up while hongjoong holds san and wooyoung. seonghwa follows behind with an annoyed expression, meeting yeosang’s gaze that screams you will pay for this.

“what the hell happened?”

“single people drank for free,” hongjoong says, watching as the four drunken idiots either collapse onto the floor or stumble into the kitchen; seonghwa follows quickly behind, because as much disdain as he has, he doesn’t wanna see anyone light themselves on fire.

“so you could only imagine how that went. i don’t even know how many peanut butter and jelly shots san and wooyoung had.”

“that is so disgusting,” yeosang says, your head nodding against his chest because “i’m sorry, but that kind of is. maybe you guys should have some water now.”

“it was good, y/n!” jongho whines, throwing himself down next to you and yeosang. he slumps against the arm of the couch, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before his eyes shoot open.

you and yeosang watch as he does so, quickly rising from the couch and sniffing like a police dog in front of a bag of drugs.

“the fuck’s your problem?”

“who lit my cotton candy candle?!” the boy yelps, taking one whiff of the air and being positive he’d know that smell anywhere. “and why does it barely mask the smell of sex?!”

your eyes widen and a deep, red blush overcomes you, a growl leaving yeosang at the same time hongjoong comes over and tugs the boy up by his arm. the smaller boy throws you an apologetic look as he escorts jongho to his room, yeosang’s arm tightening around you as you hide yourself in his chest.

“does it really? i don’t smell anything.”

yeosang bites down on his lip so he doesn’t start laughing, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he shakes his own for your own peace of mind.

“no, baby. it’s fine. he’s just a drunk idiot.”

april - freshmen year

maybe it was because you guys started out so strong.

with great communication and constant assurance that kept you both aware of each other’s feelings.

you knew when he was feeling unsure about your quietness, wondering if it was something he did or if you just weren’t feeling good that day.

he knew when you were feeling overwhelmed, realizing just how different you two were the longer you were together. how he was just so outgoing and charismatic and extroverted and you just... weren’t.

how now that they honeymoon phase was over, stupid little arguments would break out. about what to do on the weekend, about where to eat, about staying in to study versus going to a cafe on campus.

they weren’t even real fights but it was enough to make you see a change in you guys. enough to see that, maybe, one day, this was gonna be a problem and you two would have to overcome it or let it ruin something good.

“we’re having seonghwa’s birthday party at the house tonight,” he tells you during your study session, another argument he won by bribing you with hot chocolate and sugar cookies at a local cafe.

you look up from your work and nod your head, a small smile on your face at the thought of seonghwa and the others.

you’ve gotten a lot closer to all of them over the past few months, even seonghwa who took a little bit longer to come out of his shell. but now that you talked to him you saw how nice and funny he was.

how he comes across as scary and standoffish but, really, is one of the most loyal and observant friends in the room.

he always knows when people are uncomfortable or have had too much of someone or something for the night - you watched him physically separate wooyoung and san when the both had too much alcohol and were getting snippy with each other.

his presence brings a comfort over you that you can’t quite explain. maybe because it seems like he’s kind of like you - quiet and shy and doesn’t like being the center of attention.

which is why you’re shocked in the first place he even agreed to a party.

“oh, he didn’t,” yeosang says, a smirk on his face as he thinks back to the night they all gave him an ultimatum. “but it was the lesser evil that we gave him so he agreed.”

“oh?” you quip, eyebrow raised as you play footsie under the table. “and what was it? making a restaurant sing him happy birthday?”

a wide smirk crosses yeosang face as he nods, a giggle leaving your mouth as you smack his arm lightly.

“you guys are bad.”

“eh, he’s dramatic,” he says, your gaze dropping back down to your work.

he’s said that a few times when you tell him a restaurant or bar is too crowded. when you’re at one of his sister’s house parties and the beer pong table is becoming far too overwhelmingly and crowded for your liking.

it’s always in a joking manner, him whisking you away despite others’ groans of protests, but it still secretly makes you a little sad.

“i actually have to go help them set up in a bit,” he says, your neck snapping up to him again. he sees your eyebrows pull together and reaches across the table, his hand on your arm rubbing you assuringly.

“what’s that face for?”

“nothing, i just...” you let out a sigh as you look down at your lap, feeling silly and stupid and perhaps dramatic. “you’re the one who wanted to come here and now you’re leaving. i could’ve just stayed at my room.”

“yeah but then i wouldn’t have fed you,” he says, reaching over to peck your nose sweetly. “i’ll pick you up at 7:45, baby.”

you can’t even say anything before he’s up and out the door, a heavy sigh leaving your mouth as you watch him walk to his car. he turns around and waves, a small smile on your face as you wave back and watch him drive away.

you try not to think about it as you get your work done, faintly aware of the growing population in the cafe and the raising altitude of voices. a group of five take the spot next to you and that successfully gets you ready to sprint out the door.

it’s all good sounds, laughter and squeals and chipper voices, but it’s still too much for you. the sounds and the crowds and the overwhelmingly desire to just be in a peaceful quiet by yourself.

that is until a familiar voice, deep and low and calming, brings you out of your panic before it can even start.

“y/n?”

you look up to see a head of dirty blonde hair, seonghwa clad in dark leather and converse as he makes his way over to you.

“oh. hi, seonghwa,” you say, voice quiet and slightly breathless.

his eyes remain on you for a few seconds too long, gaze carefully roaming your  face before he makes his way over to the table. he sees your books and pens splayed out messily, a smirk on his face as he meets your eyes again.

“the semester just started, how do you have all this shit to do already?”

“believe me, i’m wondering the same thing,” you wince, his quiet chuckle causing a smile to light up your face. “what are you doing here?”

“getting a coffee. i slept like shit last night.”

“did wooyoung keep you up?”

“of course he did, the annoying fuck,” he grumbles, his eyes rolling and face pulled in disdain causing you to giggle. “speaking of which, where’s yeosang?”

seonghwa can count on his hands how many times he’s seen you two without each other.

“he left like an hour ago actually,” you say, seeing the time on your phone is 5:00 before your voice turns teasing and you raise your eyebrows playfully.

“he’s getting your party ready.”

seonghwa’s face pulls into on of confusion, your smile dropping as a guilty, sinking feeling builds in your stomach - yeosang didn’t tell you it was a surprise.

“oh no.”

“those annoying fucks, i swear to god,” seonghwa growls lowly, your eyes widening and lips pulling into a frown. “guess i can’t go home tonight.”

“i’m sorry, seonghwa, they didn’t tell me it was a surprise,” you whine quietly, looking up to meet his tight, dark gaze. “they said it was either that or a restaurant sang to you and you went with the party.”

“i told them that one was worse, not that i wanted a party.”

your frown deepens as you sink in your seat, your hands toying nervously on the table. seonghwa’s eyes fall to them and he lets out a sigh, eyes moving to the chair before he plops down in his seat.

a silence hangs between you both, as silent as it could be in a bustling, crowded cafe. you look up to see him watching your hands, quickly pulling them apart and smiling when he meets your gaze.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to spoil it,” you say, “but i don’t think they’re inviting that many people. yeosang usually tells me when parties are gonna be really crowded, so they’ll probably only be like twenty people.”

“yeah, well, that’s eleven too many.”

you press your lips together as you watch him, his neck rolling back and adams apple bobbing.

you can feel the table beside you watch, are sure the whole cafe has been watching since the moment he walked in. you’re not blind to the fact that seonghwa is unbearably attractive, slicked back dirty blonde hair and large stature that draws attention anywhere he goes.

for as long as you’ve known him though, you’ve never seen him bring girls around. or even mention a girl. he always just keeps to himself and his friends - and now you, you suppose, after months of trying and trying.

“i guess this is why they said we’re having a roommate meeting at 8:00.”

you send him a sympathetic smiling, assuring him that it won’t be that bad and you’ll be able to get through it together.

“i sometimes wonder how you’re able to put up with it,” you tell him honestly, thinking back to all the times you’ve watched him and his roommates. “they’re all so crazy and extroverted and.... loud.”

a deep chuckle leaves his mouth as he nods his head, rising from the chair and looking down at you.

“years of practice and selective hearing,” he says, a giggle leaving your mouth as you nod your head. you don’t think anything of the way his gaze lingers on you, sending a small smile his way before he speaks again.

“so you’ll be there tonight?”

“yes! yeosang’s picking me up at 7:45 so i should probably get going too,” you say, closing your textbooks and getting your pens together.

“i’ll order my coffee and then walk you back to your dorm.”

“oh no, seonghwa, it’s okay, i-”

but before you can protest any further, he’s turned around and waiting in line to place an order for his coffee. you let out a sigh as you pack up your books, securing it on your shoulder before meeting him at the register.

the cashier is just as mesmerized as she is disappointed when she sees you stand next to him, dropping her flirtier smile for a polite one.

“your order will be right out sir.”

he nods his head as you guys go to the waiting area, standing side by side in silence before you turn to look with a smirk on your face.

“sir?”

“you can walk home in the dark, how ‘bout that?”

a giggle leaves your mouth as you shrug, insisting you didn’t even ask him to walk you home in the first place. he only rolls his eyes before his name is called, grabbing the hot coffee as you follow behind in amusement.

the walk to your dorm is only a few minutes, you and seonghwa walking in a comfortable silence as you walk through the campus. snow from last week’s storm rests on the trees in a picturesque manner, a slight chill in the air that causes you to shiver.

“are you gonna act surprised?”

seonghwa looks over at you as you walk, his arm clumsily bumping into yours as you walk through the slushy, dirty snow - it goes seemingly unnoticed by both of you, arms accidentally grazing for a few seconds before disconnecting as you walk.

he just shrugs and remains quiet, slipping back into the dismissive and intimidating person he once seemed to be. you don’t even think he realizes he comes off like that, just has this look that screams do not look or talk to me.

you stop in front of your dorm a few moments later, turning around tot meet seonghwa who looms over you. he wears a blank, unreadable expression until you smile up at him, thanking him again for walking you and that you’ll see him in a few hours.

“no problem, couldn’t let yeosang’s girl walk alone,” he says, gaze lingering on you for the third time. you've noticed him do this to everyone though, watch and observe to a point where you think he knows things people don’t know about themselves.

“and i’ll act surprised, tonight. won’t let it slip that you ruined my birthday.”

“yeosang didn’t tell me that it was a sur- wait. is today your real birthday?”

his eyebrow quirks up sarcastically, a smile pulling at his lips as he looks at you.

"why would they throw me a birthday party if it wasn’t my birthday?”

an embarrassed flush crosses your cheeks as an awkward giggle bubbles out of your mouth.

“i just thought because it was the weekend or something,” you stutter out, “happy birthday, seonghwa.”

“thanks, y/n,” he smiles, eyes softening every so slightly before he nods his head toward the building. “go in. it’s cold. i’ll see you later.”

“bye,” you say, sending a small wave his way before turning around and disappearing into your dorm building.

if you didn’t know any better, you’d think seonghwa was an award winning actor.  

because when the party of 30 (just ten over what you predicted) screamed “happy birthday seonghwa!” in the pitch darkness, a miscalculation mingi and the light switch, he seemed genuinely surprised.

or, at least, as surprised as his face could express when he turned on the lights.

his eyes were wide and his eyebrow was quirked, a look of disdain throw at his friends who were huddled in the front and clapping excitedly.

“happy birthday hwa!”

“we got you, bitch!”

“wear this happy birthday hat!”

he whacked the red hat right out of jongho’s head, growling at him to not push it in a way that makes you hold back a laugh. he catches your eye and smiles at you, mouthing “good enough?” that has you nodding happily.

the house party picks up almost immediately after seonghwa’s arrival, music blaring and drinking games starting and a loud, pleasant chatter that your boyfriend thrives off of.

guides you around by the small of your back and introduces you to people you’re sure you’ve met before but just don’t recognize you; regardless, you’re polite.

smile at people and say hello before falling into the silence of watching yeosang and stranger after stranger talk. even someone he doesn’t know, like the friend of a friend or significant other of a friend, he talks to like he’s known them forever.

he just connects with people so easily and a part of you is truly envious of it.

“i just don’t get how you do it,” you whine to him on the couch, the same alcoholic beverage in hand (you think yeosang said it’s a rum and coke) that you humored him with when the party started.

“i just talk, baby, what do you mean?” he laughs out, you sitting on his lap as he takes a swig of his beer.

“i know but so easily,” you mumble. “and you don’t see awkward or scared or anything. what if you guys lapse into a silence? or don’t know what to talk about?”

“silence isn’t bad, though, we sit in silence sometimes. and there are always things to talk about.”

like the person walking around with jongho’s array of candles, making the drunk boy run after him and fight off people trying to sniff them.

or the incredibly competitive and entertaining game of flip cup, one side far superior than the other and completely demolishing them.

or like how the birthday boy, the reason why eveyone’s gathered here today and having fun, hasn’t gotten his ass off the couch since he walked through the door.

“i didn’t ask for these people to be here,” seonghwa growls when he hears yeosang talking shit, throwing a dirty look his way as he tosses a pillow at him. “you idiots did that all on your own.”

“and aren’t you happy we did? now you have a bunch of gifts.”

the blank stare seonghwa has shows he could not give less of a fuck about the pile of cards in his room right now, politely thanking the guests who were nice enough to actually bring them and not just their drunken presence.

“we should’ve taken your grouchy ass to a restaurant so they could’ve-”

“yeosang, bro! please come here! we need you!”

the voice belonged to a guy from your class named yeonjun. he had pink hair and was very similiar to your boyfriend, charismatic and friendly in such a gravitating, almost unnatural way.

he also apparently sucked at flip cup.

“it’s not my fault you suck,” he yells from over the couch, loud groans of protest and upset coming from the table.

“c’mon yeosang! please!”

“we need you!”

“leave your hot girlfriend and get over here now!”

yeosang looks to you to see a flustered blush on your cheeks, a deep chuckle leaving his mouth as he pecks one the pink skin.

“can i go, baby?” he mumbles quietly, squeezing your waist every so slightly. “they’re really desperate and need me.”

your lips purse together as you look over your boyfriend, the slight pout and look in his eye causing you to sigh. he knows then that he won, again, the way he usually does these days, and lifts you off his lap.

he presses another kiss to your head before he’s off, loud, happy shouts of excitement causing you to crane your neck back. he does the weird boy hand shake-hug before the game starts up, turning back to see seonghwa sitting across from you on the other couch.

“having fun birthday boy?”

“no,” he answers immediately, dryly, in a way that brings a big smile to your face. “how ‘bout you?”

“it’s okay,” you shrug, curling your legs under you as he rest on the couch more comfortably. “i hope the cake is good.”

“i don’t like cake.”

he’s never seen someone’s eyes widen as much as yours do in that very moment, a small, short chuckle leaving his mouth at your expression.

“what?”

“how do you not like cake?” you squeal.

if there’s one thing you could eat in this world, dietary and nutritional values aside, it would be chocolate cake.

“i just don’t like it, it’s too like sweet and sugary. and if it’s chocolate, that’s even worse.”

the pillow he threw at yeosang flies through the air and hits him back in the face, only your smug, disturbed expression staring back at his shocked one. it would usually make you laugh, the look on his face, but you’re truly just so disturbed - how is there not gonna be cake at a birthday party?

“how could you not like chocolate cake of all the cakes!” you squeal

“did you just throw a pillow at me on my birthday?”

“i mean like carrot cake or fruit cake i get. those are kind of gross and only certain people like them. but chocolate cake? it’s loved by almost every-”

like a game of monkey in the middle, with no monkey, the battered throw pillow flies through the air again and just misses your face; whether he did that on purpose or accidentally is no one’s business.

you and seonghwa stare at one another, eyes narrowed and faces slightly red, completely unaware to the party around you until you’re the one who cracks. put your hand to your mouth and start laughing hysterically.

not a cute giggle or breathy chuckle but a big, hearty, real laugh.

he’s never heard you like this before, probably because he’s only spent a little bit of time with you, but it makes him smile even more. the sound of your laugh and innocent happiness is contagious, his deeply mumbled “stop,” so obviously fake due to the the smile tugging at his lips.

you eventually moved onto the couch beside him, hitting him closer with the pillow before plopping down next to him. talking to him and being next to him made you forget about the party.

not because he was handsome or because you liked him - you loved yeosang and were dating him.

you just enjoyed being able to relate to someone. loved sitting there with someone who didn’t just wanna drink or get high or dance. who was able to be there in silence or talk about nonsense while being surrounded by the chaotic energy of a party.

so much so that you don’t even realize your own boyfriend left you for half the night. not once coming over to check on you or see if you were dong okay until it was time for the cake seonghwa wasn’t even gonna eat.

“i’m sorry, baby, i got caught up with the game,” he mumbled, his arms wound tightly around your waist. you shake your head against his chest, assuring him that it’s okay as he tickles your neck with soft pecks from his lips.

the night ended with yeosang getting so drunk, you had to put him to bed. it wasn’t something you minded, you’ve done this a few times before, but for whatever reason tonight it made something build in the pit of your stomach.

like you already knew tonight something in the future was gonna change because of parties, yeosang’s extroverted ways and seonghwa’s lingering eyes that everyone but you three notice.  

july:

you end the semester with all a’s, an excuse to not return home for the summer and a strained relationship.

it seemed like it happened slowly and then all at once.

there was the time at seonghwa’s party where you thought nothing of it. he was occupied and, luckily, so were you. he left you but went back smiling and affectionate, pressing kisses to your skin and mumbling about how beautiful you looked.

but then it started happening more.

at his sister’s parties where he knew you were uncomfortable.

at frat parties where you were even more uncomfortable.

even at his own house, when the boys had a few people over and they were playing video games while getting high.

it was always seonghwa who kept you company, the two of you in the same room as them but seemingly on a different planet. sitting beside one another observing the party and sharing snide, sneaky comments about others.

how it seemed as if there was some turmoil between mingi and yunho, the way they were ignoring each other and sharing looks back and forth when the other wasn’t looking.

how wooyoung and hongjoong’s frat boys friends didn’t seem to get along in the slightest, the boys always sneering at him when he laughed too loud or teased them too much.

how yeosang was so consumed by the limelight, talking and laughing and making jokes, that he seemed to have forgotten you exist.

“i don’t think he realizes he does it, y/n,” seonghwa assured you one night, the end of the semester coming to a close and allowing you all to relax.

it’d been a hard and stressful first year but there’d also been a lot of fun. a lot of making new relationships that you know will last a lifetime and a lot of things you learned about yourself through all of these experiences.

it’d also been one of the happiest times of your life thanks to yeosang, the boy you fell for so hard and so fast despite all your fears and reservations.

you’re still happy now, even with the bumps. because you think, you hope, that you guys could get through them.

“he’s always been like that. very social and in the middle of a group. people are always drawn to him.”

seonghwa’s not surprised that you were drawn to him. yeosang’s always had something about him that people flock to, men and women alike; but you were the first he’s truly fell for.

reciprocated feelings for and truly cared about their well being and them as a person.

“i don’t think he’s trying to hurt you. that’s just how he is.”

“he’s not hurting me.”

because through all of this, through him ignoring you and neglecting him and seemingly blowing off your feelings because they’re silly and unrelatable to him, you’re trying to convince yourself he’s not.

that you really are just being silly and dramatic about all of this.

that even though you go these outings for him, despite detesting them more than anything, and he keeps leaving you alone, you’re not hurt by it; but seonghwa can see through it.

and whether it’s because you guys are so alike or because he’s so annoyingly observant, you’re not sure. you just know that he looks at you with a soft, sympathetic disbelief that causes the ever growing lump in your throat to grow bigger.

“y/n...”

“he’s really not, seonghwa,” you mumble, words hushly spoken as you watch yeosang carefully; you know if he sees you looking upset, he’s gonna come over.

he’ll stop whatever he’s doing or whatever conversation he’s having and it’s because of that you can’t be upset. because he still loves you and cares for you.

you just have to stop being so dramatic and silly.

when you say that to seonghwa, the very words that come from your boyfriend’s mouth, you watch his face change completely. become harder and harsher as he looks to yeosang, jaw ticking as he pops his neck to the side.

“whatever you say, y/n,” he mumbles. “i just don’t want you guys having problems over this. he loves you, y/n.”

he asked you to stay with him for the summer a few days before classes ended, unsure if you’d be able to but wanting to ask because “my parents are gonna be away for the summer,” he said to you suddenly, both of you laying naked in your dorm.

you craned your neck up to look at him, sweat glistening on his face and chest making him handsome even then.  

“are you scared to be in the house all alone?”

he rolls his eyes playfully, bopping you on the nose lightly before pulling you on top of him. the blankets lay around you messily, your core under his flaccid dick that just ripped several orgasms through you.

“very. i’m gonna be very scared and need you with me. i truthfully might not even survive,” he drones on, resting his hands on your hips as you roll your eyes at him.

you ponder over it as you sit on top of him, biting down on your lip in a way that causes him to tighten his hold and roll your hips over him just a little bit. you ignore him and his horny ways the way you’ve learned to, thinking it all over before realizing it might be good for you guys.

you don’t know if he’s noticed the slight disconnect, it could just be you living in your head all the time, but you think spending time together would be good. would remind you of how you felt with him when you first started dating and he always made sure you were his number one priority.

you want some of that again. you want him to notice when you’re upset or uncomfortable and go out of his way to help you in a crowd, even if it’s just for a moment.

you want to feel like if it came down to you, his friends and the parties or you, that he’d pick you each and every time.

the first few weeks of summer felt as if you were getting that.

you spent a lot of your time longing around his house. playing in his pool and watching movies outside and having sex on nearly every surface, you were surprised to be able to walk.

but all of that quickly stopped when everyone else was home from college.

when his hometown became just one big reunion, people from his high school and neighboring colleges getting together the one way college kids knew - house parties with kegs and loud music.

it seemed as if every few days, you guys were going out.

you and yeosang and all of his friends meeting up with different groups and different houses and having the time of your lives late into the summer nights.

the stuffy houses and sleazy bars definitely weren’t your scene but yeosang, per usual, thrived.

he more often than not would leave you after the first hour, making sure you were with seonghwa or hongjoong or yunho before going off to drink or mingle with his friends.

he’d check on you periodically but it almost seemed as if he felt obligated to.

pressing a kiss to your cheek or holding you by the waist to ask if you needed another drink or wanted to play beer pong; but it was always the same answer every time.

a polite no with a fake smile on your lips that he left with a parting kiss before disappearing back into the crowd.

it was getting old and you knew he was starting to feel the disconnect too, the more hazy summer days that passed, but you both ignored it. because the times at his house were nice, you almost felt normal.

kissing and cuddling and talking as you ate.

but you knew that would all fade away eventually.

when there more were people who weren’t just you or his friends and craved something more exciting than just staying in and hanging out.

talk of a beach bonfire weekend had, admittedly, peaked your interest.

it was different than the stuffy houses or sleazy bars you’ve gotten used to over these past few weeks of summer.

now, you got to go to the beach and rent a nice house right by the ocean. be with yeosang and his friends and the people you got to know in a much more tropical and romantic setting.

you drove up with yeosang, yunho and mingi in the latter boy’s jeep, you and yeosang in the back as wind whipped through your hair. you giggle anytime your hair smacks him in the face, eventually being pulled into his chest to stop the assault from happening on his face.

his heartbeat is calming under your ear, his arms wrapped tightly around your body as him and the two boys in front talk over the plans for the weekend.

you’re blissfully unaware of it as you remain close to his body, warm and sticky in the humid air but not caring.

because even despite your problems and disconnect, you still want him near you. you still find comfort in him and you still want to feel loved by him.

“how does that sound?” you hear yeosang mumble in your ear, his breath tickling your skin causing you to hum against him.

“how does what sound?”

“did you fall asleep?” he asks teasingly, nudging you playfully until your faces are a few inches from each other. “i asked if you wanna go on a date tonight when we get there.”

a happy smile crosses your face as you nod eagerly, one breaking out on his too before he places a soft kiss on your lips.

you’re buzzing with a silent excitement the rest of the ride, your hand is his as you play with his fingers and he smiles at you ever so often. holding hands always felt right between you two, like they were made to fit perfectly and acted as a way to ground you both.

your hands stay intertwined when you get to the house, a giant 8-bedroom mansion on the beach that cost you half of your savings - but the view is making it seem worth it.

the waves crashing just a few feet from the back door and causing everyone to storm out of their cars to fight for the best room.

“i want the balcony, please for the love of god! i will do all the dishes during this trip if you guys let me have it.”

“that’s such bullshit,” hongjoong complains, calling wooyoung out on a deal he knows he definitely won’t abide by; but after much nearly 30 minutes of whining and a written contract stuck to the fridge, it was decided.

wooyoung gets the room with the balcony in exchange for dishes duty, a fair exchange you think given the view.

your and yeosang’s room is the one next to wooyoung, an en-suite and beautiful view of the ocean outside the floor to ceiling windows. your standing there watching the waves crash, bags at your feet and content smile on your face when yeosang wraps his arms around you from behind.

you giggle when he presses his lips to your neck, turning in his hold to immediately meet his for a kiss. it feels like you miss him even though you see him everyday. even though you’ve fallen asleep and woken up next to him for over a month.

“what do you wanna eat tonight?” he mumbles against your lips, pulling back to look at you with a smile on his face and a playful twinge in his eyes. you cock your head to the side as you look up him, shrugging your shoulders because it really doesn’t matter.

you’re just excited for your date.

“i don’t care, i’ll have anything.”

“we’ll find a place then,” he says, pulling you closer to him in a way you already know means something. “you wanna shower before we go?”

“why? do i smell?” you tease, a smirk on his face as he pulls you toward the bathroom wordlessly.

and lucky for both of you, there was a very convenient bench in the shower that had you in there until the mirror was foggy and the water ran cold.

“can you bring us back food?” mingi whined, yeosang rolling his eyes as he caught the boy’s car keys.

“as long as you eat in on plates so wooyoung has to wash the dishes.”

“hey!”

“deal.”

a smile spreads across your face as you wave goodbye to all the boys, wearing a pretty new dress you’ve been wanting to wear for weeks. yeosang takes your hand and interlaces your fingers together, shouts of “bye” and “have fun lovebirds,” echoing through the house.

the restaurant is right on the beach with outdoor seating, twinkle lights lining the space with the quiet chatter of people and gentle crash of waves. you and yeosang are play footsie under the table as you look over the menu, shy smiles and coy narrowed eyes beuing thrown at each other.

it’s been a while since things have felt this natural and easy between you two but you think you both needed it. the casual conversation, the airy chuckles and giggles, the warm feeling in the middle of your chest when you catch him looking at you lovingly.

“you look beautiful, baby. are you excited for this weekend?”

a faint blush covers your cheeks as you look up at him, twirling the spaghetti on your fork as you nod your head.

“yeah. we’re going to the beach tomorrow, right?”

“yeah,” he says, popping a piece of steak into his mouth. “and then we’re gonna meet changbin and them at a bar. his friend’s parents own it so we’ll be able to get in.”

“oh... okay,” you hum after a few seconds, quietly picking at our food and feeling yeosang’s eyes on you.

“what?”

you look up and meet his gaze, the sweet, softness gone and replaced with something you’re not quite able to make out. you feel nerves in the pit of your stomach, taking a deep breath before you plaster a smile on your face.

“nothing. that’ll be fun.”

“you think?” he asks, eyebrow quirked and a happy smile on his face; he was hoping you liked going out and meeting his friends more. he loves showing you off and having you by his side but in the beginning, it always seemed like you didn’t wanna be there.

he’s happy you’re coming around to it now, wanting his girlfriend by his side and having fun with him too.

“yeah,” you lie through your teeth, the smile on your face a complete contrast to your feelings inside.

when did he stop knowing when your smile was fake? or thinking that you actually wanted to go out? couldn’t he see all the time you were pushing yourself to be there for him, just for him to leave you alone?

“i think we’ll have fun,” you lie again, having a terrible feeling that this weekend getaway might be the thing that breaks you and yeosang completely.

because your relationship is already fragile and neither of you are acknowledging it. you just keep kissing and giggling and playing footsie under the table, looking like the perfect couple you truly once were in the beginning.

friday morning it seemed as if maybe things were gonna be okay.

you woke up to yeosang kissing your face, forehead to cheek to cheek to nose until he peppered them down your neck and a tired whine left you. he smiled against your skin, his lowly mumbled ,”good morning, baby,” making your stomach flutter first thing.

the moment was quickly over, open mouthed kisses and his tongue slipping past yours, when wooyoung and mingi bursted through the door, dramatic yelps leaving them as they ran out covering each other’s eyes.

“i cannot believe you kiss him in the morning,” wooyoung said an hour later, all eight of you walking down to the beach.

the cooler was packed and ready, fully prepared for a day in the sun and pregaming for the bar later tonight.

“why?” you ask, a smile pulling at your lips at the look of disgust on his face.

“multiple reasons but his breath being the first! isn’t it disgusting? there’s no way he doesn’t wake up with rank breath, y/n, i just don’t believe it.”

an arm wraps around your waist from behind, your boyfriend’s hand craning your face back so he can peck another long, lingering kiss on your mouth; wooyoung’s gags in the back cause you to smile against him.

“you better be careful talking about rank breath,” yeosang says when he pulls away, eyes right on wooyoung who’s wearing a look of shock and hurt.

“i don’t have bad breath.”

“i can smell you right now. did you even bring a toothbrush?”

“he actually didn’t,” jongho quips, wooyoung’s head snapping toward his as you and yeosang suppress your laughter - one of you better than the other.

“it’s all he kept talking about in the car. sick fuck even asked to use to mine but that is just too-”

“oh wow, look at the waves! c’mon, y/n, you said you wanted to play in them!”

wooyoung grabs your hand before you’re able to say anything, giggling as he drags you down the hot sand. you throw down your bag and look back at yeosang with a smile, his hand waving you off as he picks up your belongings.

mingi and san join you both a few minutes later, the water making your feet numb in the wet sand.

you don’t know how long it takes all four of you to fully immerse yourself in the water - at least thirty minutes if you had to guess. but once you got in, you guys didn’t wanna get out.

the waves were harsh and crashed down on you viscously but that was part of the fun. diving into the water and letting the salt water soak up into your skin and hair. it was even better that there was no gross seaweed, the four of you attempting to play toothpaste despite the major difficulty.

but with how much time past, pruny fingers and soaked hair, you didn’t expect the others to already be shit-faced. it was barely noon and you could tell immediately that yeosang, hongjoong and jongho were well on there way to getting obliterated tonight.

you have sinking suspicions it’s because changbin and his friends are also here; and when their two friend groups are together, nothing could comes of it.

they’re all fun and sweet and care for one another but they also build off of each other - enable each other’s young, college drinking habits and rowdy behavior.

“b-baby, c’mere,” yeosang slurs when he sees you, wrapping you up in a towel and pulling you on his lap.

you land on his lap with a plop, smiling and saying hello to the others. you can smell the alcohol on yeosang’s breath but he’s always in good spirits. always laughing and smiling and making jokes that, usually, his drinking isn’t a problem.

it’s not something you particularly enjoy or can relate to but he’s never been a  mean drunk.

not until today.

“you look really good today, you know that?” he mumbles lowly in your ear, the new, red bikini you brought clinging to your body in all the right ways. you were slightly embarrassed to wear it today but decided to go for it because you thought you looked nice in it and spent $70 on it.

you looked up at him with an embarrassed flush on your cheeks, elbowing him lightly as he wraps his arms around your waist. his fingers toy with the edge of your bikini under the towel, your eyes widening when you feel what he’s trying to do.

“yeosang,” you whisper harshly, keeping your voice low but firm as you smack his hand over the towel.

“what,” he whines lowly, eyes roaming the area to see everyone either going to the water or chatting amongst themselves. “you’re covered, baby. i wouldn’t let anyone see what’s mine.”

“are you crazy,” you whisper as you peek your face up at him. “we’re already drinking underage on the beach yeosang. you can’t finger me in public either.”

“who said i was gonna finger you?” he mumbles, a smirk on his face and teasing in his voice; but you don’t find this funny. you don’t find him being this drunk and touchy at noon is funny. “you’re getting ahead of yourself now, baby.”

“why are you getting this drunk at noon, yeosang? we’re going out tonight too, unfortunately.”

“unfortunately?” he asks, craning his neck down to look at you. “i thought you were excited.”

“i was so excited for the beach,” you tell him quietly. “i thought you would come in the ocean with us.”

because you wanted to spend that time with him. have the jeuvnile fun you used to have when you’d go on drives to the beach at night and freeze your asses off on the sand.

“you looked like you were having enough fun with wooyoung and san,” he mumbles, something darker and sarcastic in his voice that makes you turn in his lap and look at him.

his eyes are glassy and teasing but not in the light hearted way. they look almost vengeful, like he’s jealous or feeling left out the same way you’ve been; but you’re always sitting there, at parties or at bars or in your room, waiting for him.

how doesn’t he see that?”

“that’s because you’ve been with everyone else. you’re always with everyone else and you leave me behind.”

“what are you even talking about?” he sneers, keeping his voice low but full of bite. “you come everywhere with me like my damn shadow, y/n. how do i leave you behind? i couldn’t if i tried.”

his words make you physically recoil, his lap now longer feeling comfortable and inviting but cold. the hurt is evident on your face and in your heart and he’s just looking at you like he’s ready to have a full on argument, his eyebrow raised and glossy eyes wide.

like he’s waiting for you to say something just so he can respond and hurt you.

there’s a long, lingering silence between you two, the laughter of others surrounding you despite the way tears are burning your eyes. a screech of your name pulls you away, looking at san and mingi where the shorter boy is holding his foot above the sand.

“can you come back with us? i cut my foot.”

some silly part of you expects yeosang to tell them to leave you alone. that you spent your time with them and now it’s his turn to be with you. but he doesn’t say a word, just bounces his knee as if to tell you to get off and it feels as if your heart drops into your stomach.

you swallow the growing lump in your throat, throwing the towel back on yeosang and rising toyour feet to help san.

“sure,” you tell the boy quietly, not looking back at yeosang once as you make your way up to the house.

you clean san’s foot on the counter in the kitchen, getting off all the dirt and dust with an alcohol pad as he whines in pain.

“it’s not that bad,” you mumble, mingi nodding in agreement as san narrows his eyes at both of you.

you’re strangely quiet, more quiet than usual, and mingi can’t help but notice the sad look on your face; you’d been so happy in the water and when you first got to the beach.

“did you and yeosang fight?”

you look up at mingi to see his eyes on you, soft and sweet and looking over you gently. it makes the weepy, emotional part in you wanna cry but you refuse, letting the dramatic tears burn your eyes at you shake your head.

“are you sure? you look sad.”

“no, i’m okay, i’m just tired,” you say, sending a small smile his way that is obviously fake. “the water and sun always tire me out.”

san and mingi accept your answer as you finish covering san’s food, slapping a band-aid on his heel and smiling (the smallest hint of a real smile) as he kisses your cheek in thanks.

you watch outside the window as yeosang sits in his chair, all the boys in a circle with their cups full of beer and throwing their heads back in laughter. you can hear their banter and harsh words through the open glass, not a single part of you wanting to go back out there.

you’d much rather sit in the bath or take a nap, rid yourself of the image of yeosang’s harsh words and annoyed eyes.  

“y/n?” san says, your eyes snapping to his concerned face - how long had he been calling you?

“c’mon, we’re going back,” he says, extending his arm down to you. “we used to play this olympic game when we were kids and we wanna try again.”

a smile pulls at your lips at his statement, picturing all of them as crazy kids running up and down the beach playfully. but now you don’t wanna go back out there, especially since you have to go out later with them.

“i kind of wanna take a nap before we go out tonight,” you tell the boys, looks of horror crossing their faces.

“what? we’re not going out till 7. it’s only 1:30, y/n.”

“i know but i’m gonna take a bath, too. the tub is really big.”

the dejected frowns on mingi and san almost make you crack but they eventually let it go, insisting that if you can’t fall asleep to come back out so you can all go back in the ocean.

you watch them walk back to the group from the door, eyes lingering over yeosang who’s smiling and laughing with his big group of friends. he always looks most comfortable like that, in a big group of people where everyone looks to him and laughs, giving him the attention he used to look for from you.

but things change apparently. you don’t know how or when or why neither of you have acknowledged it but it’s obvious that somewhere along the line, things had changed.

“where’s y/n?” seonghwa’s voice asked, pulling yeosang from his discussion as he sees mingi and san walking back to the group.

“she said she’s tired,” san answers with a frown, a scoff leaving yeosang that has the dirty blonde side eyeing him. “she might come back down after she takes a nap.”

“she won’t,” yeosang says, taking a sip from his beer before throwing the glass bottle into the garbage bag; san and mingi side eye each other, catching the dark look that seonghwa throws the boy’s way.

“can someone get me another one?”

you woke to the sound of yeosang shuffling around in his bag, eyes fluttering open to see a towel wrapped around his waist. your eyes roamed over is body, a flat, toned stomach and muscular arms that now had a red su burn on them.

“did you put on sunscreen?”

he jumped slightly despite your quiet tone, meeting your tired gaze and bedridden hair as he nods his head. he places a pair of jeans and a t-shirt on the bed, undressing in front of you as you keep your gaze on him.

“did you sleep well?”

you can’t read his expression or tone at all right now and it unsettles you greatly; so you only nod, sitting up and stretching your arms up and over your head.

“are you coming out with us?”

your eyes narrow and that same sad feling plummets in your stomach again. how it feels like your heart’s falling down further and further.

“um... why wouldn’t i?”

“because it doesn’t seem like you want to.”

“then should i just sit here by myself?”

silence fills the room as you both just stare at each other blankly, the hurt behind your eyes and the annoyance behind his far too palpable. you wonder if he’s gonna say anything in response or just leave the out the bedroom door, quirking an eyebrow up in the quietness.

“we’re leaving in 30,” is all he says, voice still short and eyes still tight as he turns around and leaves. mingi and san sneak through the door, most definitely eavesdropping, as they run over and plop on your bed.

“you didn’t come back.”

“you guys definitely fought.”

you let out a sigh as you look to mingi, an apologetic smile on his face as he pats your shoulder reassuringly. his hand moves to your hair, lacing his fingers through it before a knot stops him.

“i was sleeping, okay,” you grumble, a deep laugh leaving him as he pulls you up and off the bed.

“we’re leaving soon so get ready. we’re just gonna dance and have fun. i promise.”

and so similiar to the beach outing, the first few hours were fun.

the music was good, it wasn’t too crowded and you even didn’t mind the taste of your strawberry daiquiri. you danced with san, mingi and wooyoung until your feet were killing and your throat felt parched.

you went up to the bar for a water, needing to yell your order over the voices of people as you realize just how crowded it got. your eyes scan the bar for yeosang, seeing him in the corner where the big group resides.

your eyes meet form across the room, a small smile on your face as you wave to him.

you know he sees you, you know you two definitely make eye contact and that he could tell it was you, but he doesn’t acknowledge you in the slightest. only hyunjin and jisung do, yelping your name from across the bar and ushering you over eagerly.

you hesitantly make your way over, a polite smile on your face. there’s a few people you don’t recognize but there’s a lot of people you do, trying to keep that in mind as you approach the table closer and say hi to everyone.

“y/n! where have you been?”

“dancing with san and mingi,” you tell them. “wooyoung, too, but we kept losing him.”

“he’s too friendly for his own good,” jisung says, his eyes roaming you and yeosang before back to you. “where are they now?”

“not sure, maybe outside.”

“cool. stay with us for a bit.”

you’re hesitant but find yourself nodding anyway, your arm grazing yeosang who’s standing next to you. you look to him and he’s talking to a few guys across the table, hyunjin calling your name twice before you notice.

the whole time you’re talking to them, you can’t help but notice how yeosang seems to be avoiding you. giving you the cold shoulder like you’re a random stranger in a bar and not his girlfriend.

and the longer it goes on, the worse you feel. trying to carry on the conversation but becoming more and more aware of yeosang’s distance; and you’re not the only one who’s noticed.

“yo, yeosang,” jisung says, the black-haired boy snapping his head toward the boy. he nods his head toward you, your neck craning toward yeosang and face dropping when the boy begins to speak again.

“is there any reason you’re ignoring your girlfriend?” he asks, humor in his tone.

“what do you mean?” the boy asks, his eyes moving to yours, the same unreadable expression in them.

“you haven’t looked at her once. are you guys even still dating?”

“surprisingly,” the drunken man quips sarcastically.

your face drops and it’s like he knows it, looking at you with a roll of his eyes.

“i was kidding, y/n,” he huffs, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into him. he reeks of alcohol and cologne, keeping you under his arm before continuing his conversation.

the entire time, it’s like you’re not even there. he doesn’t once acknowledge you or try to include you in the conversation. just keeps you there as if your his shadow, something he’s not even aware ad that he doesn’t pay any mind to.

you thought you’ve been dramatic over these past few months. maybe being too sensitive or too emotional or maybe even asking too much from him. but it’s like he doesn’t even want you here.

he hasn’t looked your way once and neither of you acknowledged the way you snapped at each other before. your communication has gone down the toilet, all of your feelings brewing while his seem to be nonexistent.

you move out from under his arm, no one, not even him, noticing when you mumble that you’re going to the bathroom.

tears burn your eyes the entire time, feeling stupid and left out and annoying, like you have no place here and just have to be attached to someone who doesn’t want you or yeosang’s friends.

you grip the sink and take a few calming breaths, looking up at the mirror when you hear the door open.

a drunken girl comes in and smiles upon seeing you, her face immediately dropping before she makes her way over to you.

“oh no, what’s wrong?” she asks with a frown on her face, her eyes roaming yours carefully as her hands grip your arms comfortingly. “you look like you’re about to cry.”

you almost laugh at the fact that this random stranger is the one noticing that you’re upset when you were just beside your boyfriend. you only shake your head and promise her that you’re okay, a pathetic excuse of a smile plastered on your face.

but the same way a person breaks down when someone asks if they’re okay, you do when you try to assure her that you are. that you and your boyfriend are in a great place and you feel completely happy here with him.

“just... stupid stuff with my boyfriend,” you eventually mutter out, a small tear escaping your eye that causes her frown to deepen. “i feel silly and dramatic but i don’t know.. i feel like he’s been ignoring me. we’ve been so weird these past few months and it doesn’t seem like he even loves me anymore.”

“leave his ass, are you crazy,” she asks without hesitation, wiping at your tears with a sympathetic smile on her face. “you’re beautiful and he’s not worth crying over. no boy is. because that what he is. a boy. a stupid boy, in fact.”

a wet, strangled giggle leaves your mouth despite the tears streaming down your face, watching as she takes a paper towel and dabs at your face.

“you’re gonna mess up your makeup so no more crying!” she says happily, bouncing up and down with her legs crossed. “leave his ass and have fun, sweet girl! i’m about to pee my pants now.”

another giggle leaves your mouth as you thank her sweetly, wiping at your face and smiling when she lets out a heavy sigh of relief. you take a deep breath, trying to take her words to heart but far too aware of the upset in your stomach.

how leaving him seems like the most painful thing ever. how you don’t even wanna do that because you guys haven’t talked about anything yet. all these problems could be in your own head for all you know, you two haven’t had any sort of discussion.

but it doesn’t help that he doesn’t even seem receptive.

he has been ignoring you and making you feel left out. he brings you along just to leave you when he knows you’re only coming for him; even on the nights you guys stay in, it’s obvious he wants to be out partying.

why can’t it be more fair? are you asking for too much or is he just being inconsiderate?

you walk out of the bathroom to se the corner of bar empty, only jisung and hyujin lingering. the taller boy meets your gaze and the two make their way over, letting you know that they went to the bar outside.

“oh... okay, thanks for letting me know,” you thank softly, a small smile lighting up your face.

they both wear their own sympathetic smile, hyunjin shaking his head at jisung when they make eye contact. there’s a few moments of an awkward silence, you looking between them both before jisung opens his mouth to speak again.

“yeosang was saying some fucked up shit, y/n. i just wanted you to know.”

“han...”

“no, hyunjin, they’ve been together for a long time and he knows her best. that wasn’t cool.”

your stomach plummets at the words leaving the boy, the tears you just got rid of burning the back of your eyes again.

“what... what did he say?”

“it wasn’t anything that bad, we were just shocked. you guys usually seemed so happy and in love and it was just-”

“he said it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if you guys broke up. and that if you wanted to, he wouldn’t be too opposed.”

the look on your face must give it all away, tears filling your eyes as you feel yourself ready to bolt. you will not be the girl who cries publicly in a bar, looking like a hot, red-faced mess because your boyfriend decided to be an asshole.

“he’s shit faced, y/n,” hyunjin says immediately, his stomach turning at your tears; he hates when people cry, especially girls. “he only said it because he thinks that’s where you guys are headed. said you guys have felt very disconnected since school ended.”

and while it helps to hear that you haven’t been the only one feeling that way, it still hurts you.

because it doesn’t seem like he wants to fight for you and he hasn’t said anything to you. he’s just ignoring you, making you feel worse and worse with the occasional kiss or whispered sweet nothing.

you think the worst part is that, eve if you guys did break up, he wouldn’t be sad about it. he’d just move on without any qualms and think of you as the girl he dated during his freshmen year of college.

but he was much more to you than that.

he was your first love. the first boy you allowed in and let yourself trust. gave yourself to in the most intimiate way and found solace in him despite your differences.

those differences seem to be your downfall right now - with one similarity that, apparently, both of you suck at communication.

you don’t even realize you’re turning around and leaving the bar until you hear your name being called behind you, walking out in the warm night air and heading toward the beach.

you just keep walking and walking and walking, until there’s nothing but silence and the waves crashing around you.

he knows he shouldn’t care this much.

he knows that it’s not his place and that the boy next to him should be the one worrying and concerned about where you are.

but yeosang doesn’t seem to care at all, switching from beers to shots in a decision seonghwa made hours ago to stay away from.

he can’t stop his eyes from moving to the door ever so often, waiting for your hair or smiling face to walk through and flood him with some relief; but when he sees mingi, san, and wooyoung come in without you, he’s not sure he can hold off any longer.

“yeosang,” seonghwa says, voice deep with his usual bite. “where’s y/n?”

“i don’t know,” he slurs out, not even bothering to look around or observe the crowd. “probably with mingi or san.”

“no, they’re out here, too.”

“i don’t know hwa, why do you care?” he growls in annoyance, downing another shot to dull out the sound your name and all the concerns he has. coming to terms with the fact that you guys are changing and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

“because she’s missing, yeosang. no one has seen her or is with her.”

he’s getting more and more irritated at his friends attitude, the way it seems like he couldn’t give less of a shit about where his girlfriend is. especially when he knows you get uncomfortable in this setting.

“i’m her boyfriend, hwa, and i know she’s fine. so fucking drop it. she’s around here somewhere.”

but that answer doesn’t quell the worry in seonghwa, the dirty blonde rolling his eyes at the endless horror stories plaguing his mind. they’re underage at a crowded bar with sleazy drunks and cops lurking - there are far too many things that could go wrong.

“then act like it, dickhead.”

yeosang just rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to the group and dismissing seonghwa and the conversation completely. he doesn’t know how they can talk about his girlfriend missing to something as mundane as video games, seonghwa getting up with a huff and walking back into the bar.

he checks around the whole bar twice, nearing 1 a.m so the building is at its maximum capacity. but even then, he checks everywhere and doesn’t see you; he even asks girls waiting on line to the bathroom to see if you’re in there, unaware of the dreamy look in their eyes as they nod and hang on to every word he says.

“no one named y/n was in there,” they said a few moments later, an apologetic look on her face before she smiled flirtily. “did you lose your girlfriend?”

he rolls his eyes and thanks them politely, not giving her the time to give him some cheesy pick up line before he’s outside.

it’s warm with such a slight breeze coming off the ocean, looking up and down the block before the beach catches his eye. there’s a few people walking in the distance and he thinks it’s worth a shot, walking away from the bar and going down to the cold, grainy sand.

he’s walking for twenty minutes, about to turn around as he wonders why the hell he’s even looking for you, when he hears soft cries.

he can barely hear them over the sound of the waves but he definitely hears them, squinting his eyes in the distance to see a figure hunched over with their face in their hands.

he can tell you it’s you when he’s a few feet away, the way your hair’s falling and dress is riding up your legs. he swallows thickly, relief flooding through him as he looks over your figure quietly.

he could tell you and yeosang were having problems, could tell you’ve been having them for a few months by how often you and him would hang out at parties, but it seemed as if they were getting worse these days.

he saw it on the beach this morning, the way you went from smiling and laughing to disappearing inside the house. it bothered him then but he knew he shouldn’t butt in, waiting until you guys figured it out or handled things on your own.

but now he can’t just sit back anymore.

he’s seeing changes in his younger friend that he doesn’t enjoy; his drinking, his attitude, the way he’s treating you 90% of the time. and tonight had been the last straw for him, his blatant disconcern for you and your wellbeing completely rubbing him the wrong way.

he continues to approach you quietly, the sound of his footsteps in the sand causing you to look up.

the faint glow from the streetlights and moon cast light on him, calming you immediately as you look up at him. you feel the wet tears on your face but could care less at the moment, sending him a small broken smile that makes you feel pathetic.

seonghwa is similiar to mingi and san in the aspect that he’s able to tell something’s off between you and yeosang. not because he’s nosy (in the most concerned way) like the two younger boys but because he sees it.

watches you at parties and is usually the person sitting beside you on the couch while yeosang’s off doing whatever.

he moves slow and cautious, sitting down on the sand next to you silently. you can feel the heat radiating off his arm, not quite touching you but just a few inches away.

you’re no longer crying but tears are still on your face, leaving you wet and sticky and most definitely tear-stained.

“i don’t know what i did, seonghwa.”

the dirty blonde looks your way when you finally break the silence between you two, seeing your tooth in your lip and eyes strained on the dark, starry sky.

“we’ve been so weird ever since the semester ended and it’s only getting worse. i- i know that’s just how he is but he was like that in the beginning too but he would never ignore me. i don’t know what i did or why he started but it feels like we’re on our way to breaking-”

you can’t even say the words because it’s not something you’re ready to do. you still love him and there’s still hints of you guys as a happy couple, the way he holds you and kisses you and looks at you sometimes.

but the bad is outweighing the god these days and it’s hurting you. hurting you to the point that you’re here, crying on the beach to his best friend who you don’t even realize looks at you a little too long and a little too soft.

and he doesn’t even know what to say to you this moment. because he sees his friend is changing and he sees it’s effecting you; it makes him wanna go back to the bar and punch yeosang in the face, tell him to wake up before someone snatches you away and treats you the way you deserve.

“am i the one being stupid, seonghwa?” you ask again, turning to look at the boy beside you. “do i just have to like... get over it and try for him? try to enjoy all of this and be okay with mingling on my own?”

“you go out with us all the tie, y/n, how are you not trying?”

it’s the softest you’ve ever heard seonghwa’s voice, something about it bringing more tears to your eyes because it’s so obvious that you’re a mess.

“i must not be if he’s being like this. it’s like he doesn’t even know me and he just wants me to leave him alone. he- he even told jisung it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if we broke up, so why am i even crying?”

seonghwa feels rage bubble up in his chest at the thought of yeosang saying that, cracking his knuckles one by one until he’s facing you again. he doesn’t get how he can’t see what he’s doing to you or how he doesn’t care.

“he’s been different these past few months, i’ve seen it too, y/n, so it’s not you,” he assures gently, waning to reach out and touch your hand form comfort. “he’s just... i don’t know what the fuck he’s doing but he shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”

you let out a sigh as you hide your face in your knees, tears leaking from your eyes again as quiet sobs leave you.

you feel seonghwa’s hand on your back a few seconds later, moving up and down slowly as you fall into him. you both just sit there on the sand, you crying and him silently comforting you as you try to make sense of this mess.

because even right now, with you gone and not saying a word, he doesn’t care. he’s not calling or texting or going to look for you. he just don’t seem to care at all.

“please don’t cry, y/n,” he mumbles quietly, his thumb moving up and down your skin gently.

but his words don’t help in the slightest. you just muffle your cries until you can’t anymore, peeking your head up as you wipe the wetness off your face.

“i’m sorry,” you mutter, feeling embarrassed to have just cried your eyes out for god knows how long; but seonghwa doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, shrugging his shoulders with a small smile on his lips.

“you don’t have to apologize,” he reassures gently, sending a small smile his way.

you watch his eyes roam your face, dark eyes piercing yours in a way that you once found so intimidating. but you’ve gotten to know him so well and know how sweet he is.

how much he looks out for his people and that he’d really do anything for anyone.

“what?” you ask, feeling self conscious and seen. “are there tears on my face?”

“just a few,” he teases, reaching across to dab at the reamining wetness. you smile softly as he tocuhes your skin, watching him so gently reach over your face.

his warm fingers linger on you for a little too long but you don’t even notice, thanking him softly when he pulls back.

you lean back and are reminded of your first date with yeosang, on the sand that feels familiar and the sky with a bright crescent moon similiar to the one around your neck.

it pulls at something in your heart, how maybe you guys will never be like that again. how the honeymoon phase is just something that isn’t meant to to last htat long maybe.

it’s just a fleeting moment that you’ll remember in times like this, when it feels like you guys are about to fall apart.

tears prick your eyes again, a sigh leaving your mouth as you silently beg yourself not to cry again before seonghwa’s on his feet and reaching his hand down, like he knew you were about to blow.

you look at it with confusion, looking from his hand to his eyes looking down at you expectantly.

“come with me.”

“where are we going?” you ask, taking his hand hesitantly. he pulls you to your feet with ease, keeping you hands intertwined as he turns around and pulls you up the beach silently.

“seonghwa,” you whine, your bare foot tripping over the lumpy sand. he just grips your hand tighter every time you stumble, a quiet chuckle leaving his mouth that makes you narrow your eyes at him.

“you’ll see,” he says, eyeing you back just as sternly. “i past it on my way to find you.”

a dimly lit playground with swings and small, slightly janky jungle gym comes into your view, a smile lighting up your face as you turn to look at seonghwa.

“i don’t know how i missed this,” you tell him, knowing for sure you hd to have passed it on your way to the beach.

“you were too busy crying,” he teases lightly, a snort leaving your mouth as you push him gently. he narrows his eyes and pushes you back playfully, watching as you take off in the sand and plop down on a swing.

he smiles as you wave him over, moving the swing and pumping your legs as you hold your arms out to him. he walks over, leaning his head against the chain of the swing next to you watching you sit there and smile up at him.

“push me,” you ask sweetly, his eyes narrowing slightly. “please,” you add, wide glassy eyes and a sweet smile that renders him unable to resist. his warm hands rest on your back as he pushes you higher and higher, your eyes looking out into the ocean and sky as memories wrack your brain.

“when... when did you get that?!” you yelp, moving closer to his larger, warmer body to get a good look at it. “i didn’t even see you pick it up!”

“i was sneaky, right?” he teases with a wink, guiding you by the waist to sit down before placing the basket between you.

you barely notice the harsh gust of wind because of your excitement and surprise, yeosang’s hands draping a blanket around your shoulders before you can even shiver.

“i even packed the food. i didn’t really know how to be sneaky for that so it was pure luck that you went to the bathroom.”

and low and behold, when he opens up the white, woven basket, all the food you got was packed in perfectly. plates and utensils were strapped to the top with two small cups next to the array of fruits, cookies, and several ingredients for sandwiches.

you both happened to like cheese ones, your hands grazing and soft giggles leaving when you both reached for it in the frozen section.

“i... i can’t believe you did this,” you mumble quietly, feeling far more touched and happy than you’re willing to let on. “this is so cute. thank you, yeosang.

you shake your head from the memories, looking back to see seonghwa still pushing you with a content smile on his face. you stretch you legs to reach the ground, slowing down until you jump off.

you topple on the sand a little bit, seonghwa calling your name with a chuckle and watching as you steady yourself out. you turn to him with a smile, looking up at him in a way that causes his heart to jump in his chest.

he knows he has to ignore though. because problems or not, broken up or not, you’re still his best friend’s girlfriend.

but it doesn’t stop him from frolicking in the sand with you. following you as the playful spirit comes out from zipping down the slide or climbing on top of the monkey bars.

he grabs your leg that hangs off from the monkey bars, your whiney “seonghwa!” echoing through the quiet night air. his laugh causes a smile to light up your face, the two of you in the playground until your body is weak and you’re laid out on the sand.

seonghwa checks his phone to see it’s almost 3:00, wondering aloud if their friends are back from the bar.

and that’s the reality check you need. remembering that your boyfriend’s ignoring you, you don’t know he you did and his best friend is the one here - comforting you, making you laugh and keeping your mind off all the things that are making you sad in the first place.

it’s a very sobering thought that makes your smile fall off your face, jumping up from your spot in the sand as you look at seonghwa.

“i... we should get back then,” you hear yourself say. “i didn’t realize it was that late.”

it’s the reality check seonghwa needed to, that he shouldn’t be the one making you laugh and smile while your heart and mind are still plagued by yeosang. so he nods his head, rising to his feet and looking down at you for a few seconds.

you feel a lump form in your throat at the look he gives you, butterflies threatening to erupt in your stomach as his eyes roam every inch of your face. eyes to your hair to your nose to your lips, his tongue peeking out before he nods his head down toward the beach.

"lets go, then,” he says, ignoring the slightly dejected feeling in his stomach he knows he shouldn’t have. “they might be back by now.”

you guys walk back to the house in silence, arms bumping ever so often in a way that both of you try to ignore. because even if this felt right, even if your time with seonghwa always feels so right and easy, it feels right with yeosang too.

and it’s not like you can just have them both.

gong home to an empty house was incredibly sobering.

your bed was cold, the house was quiet and you had to muffle stupid, disappointed cries into your pillow until you fell asleep.

but there was someone else sitting in the living room, waiting for the moment his friends come back so he can tear his one drunken asshole of a friend a new asshole.

and that’s exactly what he did when he heard the front door open, wooyoung and san’s loud “heeellloo!” echoing through the house causing his head to snap toward the door.

the boys shuffle in, saying their hi’s to seonghwa as they filter in the kitchen and start to raid the cabinets for food. yeosang’s the last to get through the door, his stumbling to a minimum and glassy eyes observing the house carefully.

seonghwa feels his jaw clench, the two boys meeting eyes as the black-haired boy approaches him quickly.

“did you find her?”

“how’d you know i went looking?”

“do you think i’m a fucking idiot?”

seonghwa clenches his jaw again, cracking his tension-filled neck as he looks at his friend. the boys hold a dark, intense eye contact that goes ignored by the rest of the boys - too consumed by their need for food, drunken ramblings, and wooyoung crying about keeping the dishes to a minimum so he doesn’t have to wash them hungover tomorrow.

“she was on the beach crying,” seonghwa eventually bites back, looking at his friend with every hint of disdain and anger. “heard that you said it wouldn’t even matter if you guys broke up or not.”

“that fucking jisung,” yeosang grumbles, seonghwa rolling his eyes and getting up from the couch. he feels yeosang falling behind him, half tempted to tell him to piss off before they’re both just outside the dirty blonde’s room.

“what are you so mad about? she’s my girlfriend, yeosang.”

“and you’re treating her like shit, yeosang. you have been for months. leaving her all the time, barely spending time with her, do you even notice how much she fucking hates going to those?”

“but she still does?” yeosang says, face pulled into confuson and irritaiton - he doesn’t like the way he’s feeling attacked and defesnive. “i never force her to go.”

“obviously she’s gonna go for you,” seonghwa growls, confused as to how his friend is so stupid and blind about this. “because she loves you, yeosang.”

“i love her, too,” he says, “she knows how much i love her.”

the look soenghwa gives him cause his eyes to narrow, anger spiking in him as he pushes his frined back. seognhwa’s eyes flare and he has to hold himself back, knowing that he’s already not in a spot to fight over you.

“and if i didn’t know any better, i’d think you loved her too. running to her rescue right away and nearly ripping my head off before.”

seonghwa doesn’t know what to say so he doesn’t say anything, the silence doing more than words could at this point. and even drunk, yeosang knows what it means. can see in seonghwa’s face and body language that he has nothing to say because, yeah, he might love her, too.

“bullshit,” yeosang blurts out, a look of shock and horror on his face. seonghwa only shrugs his shoulders, attempting to walk away from yeosang before he pulls his friend back roughly.

“are you kidding me? y/n? out of every woman in this world?”

“i don’t know, yeosang, okay. it just fucking happened. i wasn’t ever gonna say anything to either of you.”

“wow, how noble of you. but you run off to save her when we get ino a fight.”

“because you were being a dick and she was upset,” seonghwa growls back, balling his fists in a similiar fashion to yeosang. “but i didn’t say anytihng to her. i just called you an asshole and said you were changing. not that she should leave you for me, although i’ve been tempted to steal her from you.”

a laugh of disbelief leaves yeosang, his head shaking as he looks over his friend.

“you’ve got fucking balls.”

and if it were anyone else saying this to him, they’d be beaten to a bloody pulp. but yeosang knows seonghwa would never make a move on you, actively try to steal you and get you away from him even if he wanted to.

he even had sinking suspicos that he had feelings for you, catching the way he’d look at you or his gaze would linger for just a little too lnog.

but he trusts his friend and he trusts you.

he was just the idiot now, acting as if you ddin’t mean the world to him and he doesn’t love you more than anyone else in this world.

“i’m gonna go apologize to her,” yeosang says, his gaze meeting seonghwa and making the dirty blonde nod his head. “thanks for taking care of her.”

the dirty blonde only nods his head, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach as he watches him walk out the room and go to you.

yeosang walks in to se your sleeping form on the bed, creeping over to his bag and cringing at the sound of his zipper in the quiet room.

you wake to the sound of shuffling toward the door, eyes peeking open to see yeosang with his shirt off and slipping on pajama pants. he makes his way over to the bed, your eyes closing quickly as you attempt to keep your breaths even.

you think his soft chuckle is a sign that you’ve gotten caught, keeping up the act as the bed dips and he’s sitting beside you, running his fingers through your hair gently.

“i’m sorry, baby, i’m so sorry,” he hums quietly, keeping his eyes on you as a knot forms in his throat.

he hadn’t reaalized how much he’d been neglected you this summer.

how often he was leaving you and just being assured by the fact that you always had someone with you - mingi, san, wooyoung, even seonghwa, although that proved to be slightly dangerous now.

“i know you’re mad, love, but i’ll be better. i was shit faced when i said that to jisung and hyunjin.”

your eyes peak open, seeing his soft, apologetic eyes that makes a frown appear on his lips. your hand reaches up to touch his face, his skin smooth and slight sticky from the humid summer air.

“are you shit faced now? will you even remember this tomorrow?” you ask quietly, still hurt by his words and the way he acted.

he takes your hand from his ace and presses a kiss to each knuckle, shaking his head as he crawls into bed next to you.

“no,” he mumbles, positing himself close to your warm body. “i stopped drinking when no one could find you. your girlfriend going missing tends to sober a guy up.”

a small snort leaves your mouth as you shake your head, meeting his gaze with tired eyes.

“i wasn’t missing, i was on the beach.”

“with seonghwa.”

you bite down on your lip as you nod your head, eyes roaming him carefully. you don’t quite know what to make of his tone or face, choosing to just nod your head in confirmation.

they had to have talked anyway - how else would he have known jisung told you what he said?

“i’m glad he was there for you when i wasn’t,” he mumbles quietly, a sad truth that he has to come to terms with despite knowing seonghwa’s feelings now.

“it’s okay, you’re here now,” you mumble, moving your body closer to his. he smiles against your head, wrapping his arm around you as he presses a kiss to your head.

but you can’t quite shake the feeling of seonghwa being there for you either.

the way he looked at you so sweetly and made you feel better with just his presence. his hold on you strong and gaze so soft, you can’t help but wonder if, somehow, you’ve also somehow fallen for yeosang’s best friend.

november - sophomore year

if someone told you over the summer that in four months, you’d be living with seonghwa and yeosang, you would’ve called them crazy. asked how the hell that arrangement came to be because why would a single man choose to live with a couple in the first place?

but really, the arrangement stemmed from all of you just having terrible luck.

you had started sophomore year on a terrible foot, not securing a single room this semester and getting a roommate you knew from the moment you met was gonna be a nightmare.

she was not only incredibly rude but messy. 

her clothes littered every inch of the floor by the second week of class and her boyfriend would come over at all hours of the day; you understood it was her room too but hearing them try (and fail) to have quiet sex at 2 a.m was not only disturbing but left you exhausted most weekdays.

“i can’t keep doing it,” you whined to yeosang, laid on top of him in his bed.

it was ironic that his apartment, the one with seven hyper active boys you once thought was the loudest place on earth, was now your place of solace.

it was where you went on weekends to get a good night sleep, not only quiet with no interruptions but incredibly comfortable with your head in boyfriend’s warm chest.

“i’m telling you, baby, ask to get a new room,” he says, a frown on his face at the bags under your eyes. 

his fingers swipes under your purple skin and you close your eyes at his gentle touch, always about ready to fall asleep when you’re with him.

“i did, they don’t have anything,” you whine, burying your face deeper into his chest. “i was even looking at apartments off campus but they’re all too expensive.”

yeosang quirks an eyebrow when he hears you say that, biting down on his lip as he contemplates telling you his idea.

because even before your terrible roommate dilemma, he’d been playing with the idea of asking you to move in together. you guys have almost been together for a year and this summer, even with the bumps in the road, had been nice.

waking up and going to sleep together every day had been the best part for him.always being with you and going about your day still with each other. food shopping, furniture shopping, even just watching tv in silence together.

he wanted more of that with you.

“why don’t we move in together?”

he doesn’t mean to blurt it out so harshly but the words just fall out, your head snapping to him with wide eyes.

“what?”

“i... i know it seems kind of sudden but why don’t we move in together? we can split the rent then,” he says, his arm wrapping around your waist tightly. “we basically lived together this summer and that was nice, wasn’t it?” he hums, grinding his body into yours a little too purposely to be innocent.

you roll your eyes despite the smile pulling at your lips, moving away from his chest to peer up at him.

could he be serious? does he really wanna live with you?

“would you really wanna live with me?” you ask quietly, his eyebrows pulling together at the meekness in your tone.

“of course i would, baby,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to cheek sweetly. “why wouldn’t i?”

but even with his reassurance and sweet words, you still felt reluctantly.

it was a big step that scared you not only for financial reasons but because you know how you are. you couldn’t even have a roommate your first semester of college and now you’re gonna live with someone permanently?

but the more days pass with you living with your roommate, the more you realize you would much rather have yeosang. even if it meant taking a big next step with him as your boyfriend.

you walked up to his apartment ready to tell him you were ready to move in together, that you guys have to start looking immediately before you just insist on sleeping on the bench outside your dorms.

but when you open the door to this house, you’re met with chaos.

absolute, disastrous chaos. 

voices screaming, water everywhere and, most importantly, all of them running around shirtless and packing their bags; you suppose this is why yeosang hadn’t been answering your texts.

“um.. what is happening?” you ask loudly upon entering, all the boys heads snapping to you.

you’re able to make out the words water line breakage, flood, drown to death and parents house, the several loud voices rendering you unable to say or hear  anything properly.

yeosang pushes his way through and explains that their apartment is well on its way to being destroyed, a faulty waterline that the apartment manager didn’t take care of threatening to completely flood the building.

“what? where are you guys supposed to go now?!”

and that right there is how your current situation came about. 

moving into a one bedroom apartment with your boyfriend and his best friend, the black-haired boy looking over seonghwa with a particularly harsh look in his eye.

the rest of them were either able to secure dorm rooms at the boys dormitory or move in with their parents who lived close by - but seonghwa’s parents lived out of state now and the apartment he was one step away from closing on fell through, thus leaving him homeless.

this unsettled yeosang greatly, knowing his best friend was secretly in love with his girlfriend still.

“you’re crazy if you think i’d try anything with her at all, let alone with you fucking here, yeosang, shit.”

“i already told you just to tell her so shit doesn’t have to be awkward,” yeosang said, whisper-yelling as you set up furniture in your shared bedroom.

“telling her would make shit more awkward, she doesn’t have to know,” seonghwa argued back, looking toward the bedroom with a cautious look on his face.

ever since he outed his confession to yeosang this summer, he’d been trying to act like the same. 

distance himself physically but remain there for you emotionally - laugh with you, smile with you, act as a friend to you while not pushing the boundary when it came to how he felt about you.

“i don’t know how she doesn’t,” yeosang says honestly, looking at seonghwa with not a hint of anger in his eyes. “you make it pretty obvious.”

the dirty blonde narrows his eyes at the boy, punching him in the arm lightly before setting up the couch that now doubles as his bed - living like a true single bachelor.

you make your way out of your new bedroom, the house almost completely set up with furniture and decor. 

a frown crosses your face when you see seonghwa setting up the couch with pillows and blankets, poking the cushions with your finger as you look at him.

“seonghwa, are you sure this is gonna be okay? sleeping on a couch isn’t comfortable.”

“it’s a futon, y/n, they’re meant for that,” seonghwa teases, a small smile lighting up his face. “it’ll be fine.”

“but are you sure? what if you start to get-”

“he’ll be fine, baby,” yeosang says from behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle as his eyes bore into seonghwa. “you don’t have to worry about him.”

the dirty blonde rolls his eyes before looking to you, reassuring you with a small smile and nod. he plops down on the couch and adjusts himself comfortably, giving you a thumbs up as he looks you over happily.

“it’s good, i swear. it’s new so i just gotta break it in.”

“maybe you can invite a girl over. finally get laid,” yeosang mocks, seonghwa biting the inside of his cheek so he doesn’t say a snappy comment; but you, you of course, have other ideas about how to break it in.

“that’s a great idea! let’s have a movie night!”

and before the two boys can protest, you’re running off to your room and writing in the group chat for the boys to come over at eight with snacks and a list of scary movies to watch.

“she already runs the show around here, doesn’t she?” yeosang grumbles, a smirk crossing seonghwa’s face as he nods his head.

“duh.”

“duh! you never go back in the house, are they fucking nuts!?” wooyoung shouts hours later, the apartment completely dark apart from the glow of the tv and jongho’s pumpkin pecan waffles candle (the one he insisted on bringing to set the mood).

you share a knowing smile with seonghwa, the dirty blonde finding himself in the worst seat of the house - directly next to a chatty, exuberant wooyoung.

yeosang and hongjoong had jumped up and claimed the chaises of the other couch, you spending the first two and a half movies curled on top of yeosang until your side became numb and you stole mingi’s seat.

now you sat beside seonghwa, bumping his arm lightly and giggling any time he made a passing comment about wooyoung or the movie or anything else he found utterly stupid or loud.

“who do you think would be the first to die?” you whisper to seonghwa, a smirk on his face as he looks over at you. his lips quirk as he thinks, looking over the pile of his friends laid out in his new living room.

he catches yeosang’s eyes on him, the boy watching carefully before he looks back to the screen casually.

“definitely mingi,” seonghwa mumbles in your ear, a smile pulling at your lips as you watch the boy clutch onto a blanket tighter and bury himself closer to yunho. “he’s a coward.

“maybe,” you mutter, a yawn escaping you as you adjust your position on the couch. your curled legs hit seonghwa but neither of you move, pulling the fuzzy white blanket tighter around you.

“but i think it’d be jongho to be honest,” you mumble, tired eyes still focused on the screen as you him and talk hushly. “it’s always the person you’d least expect.”

a small chuckle leaves seonghwa’s mouth as he nods his head in agreement, wishing he could put his arm around you so you could fall asleep against him more comfortably.

but he just keeps his arm and legs against you, watching the movie until he suddenly feels the pressure of your head on his shoulder.

he looks down to see your eyes closed, hair splayed over your face as even breaths leave you. you look so at peace and innocent in your sleep, not even realizing when his hand reaches out to move away the strands.

his eyes move to yeosang’s when he realizes what he’s done, looking to the boy who’s still adamantly watching the movie and chewing on popcorn. he settles himself back and tries to relax, feel the warmth of your body on his and tries not to get to comfortable with how nice it feels to have you against him.

a small whine causes him to look down at you a few moments later, his hand reaching down to rub against your blanket-covered leg calmingly. he barely realizes he’s doing it, not until his phone vibrates next to him and he sees yeosang’s name appear.

his eyes shoot up to see the boy looking at him, jaw clenched and eyebrow raised as he nods his head toward his phone.

yeosang [1:04 a.m.] you’re pushing it dick. try not to look so happy about my gf sleeping on you.

the dirty blonde is quickly humbled, removing his hand from your leg before trining his attention back to the screen; but the scene is one yeosang can’t quite shake off.

not because of something like petty jealously or a bad feeling in his stomach. simply because it reminds him of the first time you fell asleep with him, just a random night where you dozed off on his shoulder and he thought nothing of it.

he was listening to the sound of your breathing, the tv just white noise in the background as his own eyes threatened to close.

you’d only been dating for a few weeks, enjoying the closeness that comes with watching movies as you both stay in for the night. he wasn’t quite sure when you dozed off, he just knew when he asked if you wanted to watch the next part of twilight, you didn’t answer.

(yes, twilight was your idea and no, he doesn’t enjoy it or want to know how edward and bella’s wedding is gonna turn out).

he deices to replay the first one, just noise to have on in the background as he starts to doze off himself.

he’s stirred awake, however, when your body lurches forward, a gasp leaving your mouth as you shoot up from your sleep quickly. his eyes are wide as he looks up at you, thinking you’re on the verge of a panic attack or nightmare and fully prepared to help in any way he can.

but he sees your eyes are more so full of shock, looking at him and the surroundings of his room like you can’t believe you’re still here.

“are you okay? what happened?”

“i... did i fall asleep?

“uh... yeah?”

you look to be in such disbelief, he doesn’t know what to make of it. is it that odd that you would’ve fallen asleep? it’s late and dark and you said you hadn’t slept too great the night before.

you look to see his face pulled in confusion, looking at you with a mix of concern and bewilderment that makes you shake off the weird feeling inside of you.

“sorry, it’s just... i can usually never ever fall asleep around people,” you explain to him, a problem since childhood that rendered you unable to attend sleepovers or even share a room with cousins on family vacations.

your parents and doctors said it was probably just that you weren’t tired but it felt as if they were deep rooted trust issues of some kind. not allowing yourself to be unconscious or unaware in the presence of other people.

but you didn’t realize any of that with yeosang; you’ve never felt as comfortable with anyone as you do with him.

“ever since i was a kid, i could only fall asleep alone. it’s like i was too scared around other people or something,” you chuckle out, a small smirk crossing yeosang’s face as he pecks a kiss to your nose.

“hmm.. guess you just really like and trust me, huh?”

yeosang bites the inside of his cheek as the memory comes back to him, watching as your sleeping figure moves closer to seonghwa with a content look on your face.

he can only smirk at the way seonghwa seems conflicted, looking down at you with the softest, sappiest expression he’s ever seen his colder friend wear before they move to him.

yeosang moves his eyes away, training them back on the terrible scary movie that, for whatever reason, has mingi absolutely shitting his pants.

the black haired boy wakes you up at the end of the movie, sitting on the other side of you and mumbling that he’s gonna bring you to your room. you barely stir so he lifts you up effortlessly, a tired whine leaving you before you smell his familiar scent.

your eyes pop open to see him looking down at you, a sweet smile on his face that causes one to break out across your own face.

“hi.”

“hi, love. you fell asleep.”

you nod tiredly, face red and hair messy as he places you down on the bed gently. you curl up and under the blanket, letting out a tired whine as you hold your arms out with a pout.

he snorts as he joins you immediately, moving in next to you and sighing contently when your head rests on his chest. his hand runs through your hair. gently, slow and calming in a way he knows will quickly put you back to sleep.

but he needs to ask you one thing tonight. he needs to settle this once and for all so he can stop his brain from racing and thoughts from spiraling.

“baby?”

“hm?”

“do you like seonghwa?”

even in a tired daze, the question throws you off.

makes you snap your head up and rest your chin on his chest, eyes narrowed and eyebrows shooting up your forehead as you look at your boyfriend of almost a year.

“what?”

“do you like seonghwa?”

he repeats it like it’s a simple question, so straight forward and casual that you would think he was joking if it wasn’t for how serious his expression is.

“i... you’re my boyfriend, yeosang? why would i like seonghwa?”

he bites his lip at the confused expression on your tired face, twirling a piece of your hair at the top before letting it bounce back.

“was just a question, love.”

you look at him in complete shock and confusion, trying to decipher any anger or jealously on his face.

“is it because i fell asleep on him? i didn’t even know, yeosang, i just-”

“no, baby, no,” he’s quick to assure, his hands cupping your face gently. “it was really just a question, okay? i’m not mad or anything.”

you look at your boyfriend but see nothing but honesty in his eyes, reluctantly nodding your head before resting your head back on his chest. he hums quietly as you close your eyes, his chest feeling different than seonghwa’s but still just as comforting.

you don’t even have the time to wonder why you’re even thinking about that, comparing yeosang and seonghwa’s chests and smells, until you’re fast asleep again.

it took four days for you to finally admit it to yeosang.

and it wasn’t even that you lied at the time he asked - you just didn’t even realize.

you didn’t realize that, for longer than you can remember, you might’ve always had a bit of a crush on seonghwa. entranced by his handsome face and the way he carried himself.

how he always looked out for you and made you feel safe and cared for despite not owing you a thing.

but it wasn’t something that was overwhelmingly noticeable. 

you hadn’t thought about seonghwa when you were with yeosang. you hadn’t wished he was him or that the dirty blonde was the one who let you borrow a pen the first day of college.

but you did eventually come to love seonghwa. 

depend on him and look forward to seeing him and knowing that, if you didn’t have him in your life, your life would feel emptier.

but why had yeosang asked that? did he know before you did? did he see something in the way you looked or acted around his best friend? why wasn’t he mad about it?

“we can have a talk about it if you want,” yeosang said when you confessed all of this to him, sitting on your bed with a heavy pit in your stomach. 

“in fact, i think we’ll definitely have to talk about somethings. but for now... i think you should tell seonghwa.”

and if this whole situation wasn’t bizarre enough, admitting to your boyfriend that you liked another man, that surely did it. your boyfriend telling you to confess your feelings to him even though he was his best friend and you two were very much together.

“what?”

“tell seonghwa that you like him, baby,” he mumbles, his hands holding your face gently. there’s so much confusion and hesitation in your eyes he almost wants to laugh but he supposes he can’t blame you.

this whole situation is weird. and he doesn’t know how he knows this is the direction your relationship should go - he’s just felt it inside of himself for the past few weeks.

“stop looking so confused and just trust me, okay? tell him you like him and see what he says.”

so that’s exactly what you do, despite all the confusion still swirling inside of you; because as confused as you are about this entire situation, it doesn’t take away from the fact that you do like seonghwa.

you love him, even. not just as a friend and someone who’s been there for you but more. the way you feel comforted by his physical touch, physical being, how sometimes you’ve felt like, if you didn’t know any better and if things were different, your lips would’ve met with no hesitation.

“i... we should get back then,” you hear yourself say. “i didn’t realize it was that late.”

it’s the reality check seonghwa needed to, that he shouldn’t be the one making you laugh and smile while your heart and mind are still plagued by yeosang. so he nods his head, rising to his feet and looking down at you for a few seconds.

you feel a lump form in your throat at the look he gives you, butterflies threatening to erupt in your stomach as his eyes roam every inch of your face. eyes to your hair to your nose to your lips, his tongue peeking out before he nods his head down toward the beach.

"lets go, then,” he says, ignoring the slightly dejected feeling in his stomach he knows he shouldn’t have. “they might be back by now.”

you find the dirty blonde in the kitchen, hunched over a pot of boiling water as he carefully puts in a bag of ramen.

“seonghwa?” you say, creeping up on him with your hands intertwined and a blush already creeping its way on your body.

“oh, hey, y/n. you want some?”

you peek over at the chicken flavored ramen, your nose twitching when you say the bold, red, spicy printed on it; he lips quirk up into a smirk upon seeing your face.

“sorry. forgot you don’t like spicy food.”

you watch seonghwa stand over the stove for a few minutes, plopping yourself up on the counter to watch him silently. he continues what he’s doing with your silent presence there, completely going about his routine until he tells you to sit at the table with him.

there’a few more moments of silence, just him slurping and your occasional laugh until he finally realizes you came out here to say something.

“so... what’s up?”

you peek up at the boy watching you carefully, slurping a noodle into his mouth and watching some excess broth fall into the bowl.

“what do you mean?”

“don’t you wanna tell me something?” he asks, his questioning tone making your heart pound. “or ask me something? you’ve been playing with your fingers for the past fifteen minutes.”

you let out a sigh as you drop your hands to your lap, watching him with a look of mock disdain on your face; curse this boy for knowing you so well.

“it’s a little... random,” you begin, not quite sure how to approach this. 

you’ve never confessed to someone before, especially not per the request of your boyfriend, but you have to imagine these are all the feelings that comes with it.

nervousness in your stomach and warmth fluttering throughout your body, hoping and praying that he like you back because if not, you’re gonna ruin this friendship and that’s not something you want at all.

“and maybe even shocking. but... i think i have to tell you and i hope you don’t think it’s weird. it’s something i just realized within these past few days and i... i don’t wanna ruin anything between us.”

his eyebrows pull together at your words, dropping his utensils on the table as he looks over your face carefully. his stomach’s quickly consumed by nervous, anxiety-ridden knots, looking over your face for any hint of emotion.

but you just seem to look as nervous as him.

“you wouldn’t, you couldn’t,” seonghwa assures gently, his voice deep and soft as he speaks to you and only you; you’re freaking him the fuck out but he’s trying to remain as calm as possible.

“what is it?”

you bite down on your lip as you look at seonghwa, his deep brown eyes staring at you so intensely it makes your stomach flutter. you don’t know how you didn’t reaize sooner that you liked him.

“i.... i like you,” you tell him, voice shaky and soft but the words already out - you’ve said them and there’s no going back. “i like you, seonghwa. a lot.”

it feels as if there’s a giant weight off your shoulders the second you say it, the butterflies in your stomach at an all time high. it feels good to finally say this, finally realize and admit it and let it out into the universe.

“i think i might even love you the way i love yeosang. i didn’t realize because of him, i guess, but now i know i love you both. i don’t know if that’s normal or possible but i really do, seonghwa. i hope that’s not weird for-”

the first thing you taste is the faint spice of chicken broth, unfamiliar but remarkable lips covering yours that you meet back instantly. seonghwa hums against your mouth as he pulls your chair closer to him, the sound of it scraping against the floor going unnoticed by both of you.

you’re only consumed by the feeling of his lips, the small noises leaving your mouth and the desperation of his kiss. how it feels like he’s been wanting to do this for so long, kiss you and touch you and show you how much he’s loved you from afar.

his hand grips your face as he pulls you closer, his deeply mumbled moan of your name against your lips causing you to whine against him. allow his tongue into your mouth and giggle when they collide into one another.

all the kissing stops though the second you hear another voice, the sound of the footsteps approaching you before a hand smacks into the concrete wall harshly.

“i told you to confess. you guys are making out?”

february - junior year

the first thing you learned about polyamorous relationships was that they’re all very different.

the way they come about, the rules in which couples establish, how and why people choose to be in them. there’s not some one size fits all for any relationship in life and that stands true for you, yeosang and seonghwa.

admittedly, things were weird in the beginning. navigating between yeosang and seonghwa comfortably and getting used to having not one but two boyfriends.

there were insecurities to quell on both sides, naturally, and you learned how do that.

assure yeosang that he was enough and that you stayed in love with him for a reason. assure seonghwa that he was enough and that you fell in love with him for a reason too.

many reasons that all became too much and morphed into one another, rendering you, both, loyal and locked down to two men who constantly tested you.

the first test being the blanket dilemma.

without fail, no matter the weather and no matter the sleeping position, you woke up without a blanket. 

you were either curled into seonghwa’s warm body, your legs intertwined and his arms around you, or had your back trapped against yeosang’s chest.

his arms wound tightly around your waist, the steady rise and fall of his breath on your skin as seonghwa laid there with the queen size blanket half on him and half on the floor; that’s what this morning was like, too.

you slowly untangled yourself from yeosang, crawling over to seonghwa until you plopped yourself down on him clumsily. he stirred underneath you, attempting to move and stretch his body with the weight of you on top of him.

you bend down to peck his cheek lightly, smiling when his handsome, sleeping face barely changes. 

you decide to play a little bit more, moving your body back and forth against him teasingly. the movements somehow wake the black-haired boy next to you, his eyes popping open and a smirk on his face as he watches you grind against seonghwa.

“what are you doing, baby?”

his voice causes you to jump, a quiet chuckle leaving him as you move your arms to showcase the stolen blankets.

“he can’t keep doing this!” you whisper-scream, a look of frustration on his face. “every morning it’s either you or him stealing all the blankets and leaving us freezing.”

yeosang rolls closer so he’s in your warm spot in the middle, looking up at you as his hand rests on your waist. you’re only wearing one of his white t-shirts, your nipples peeking through the material not at all helping his morning wood.

“and you think grinding over his dick is gonna help?”

your cheeks flush as you stick your tongue out at him immaturely, tuning back to run your fingers through seonghwa’s dirty blonde hair. 

the slow, calmingly movements cause tired groans to leave his mouth, his eyes eventually popping open before a smirk crosses his face.

“hi, baby girl,” his deep morning voice drones, one hand slipping past your shirt to rest on your waist. “what are you doing?”

“you stole the blanket again,” you whine, the pout on your face one he just wants to kiss off with you on top of him like this.

“i didn’t mean too,” he hums, moving you along by the hips as he feels his cock grow harder. “you had yeosang to keep you warm, no?”

the two share of look, both of them more often than no waking up horny and ready to take you. it’s not something you’re ignorant of either, watching them look at you before, suddenly, you’re pushed down onto our back.

“because, you know pretty girl, we may take the blankets but you take up a whole lot of room,” seonghwa says, his hands running through your messy morning hair.

he’s never slept with someone who kicks as much as you. who, even though you’re the smallest in the bed, take up the most space by far.

“remember the night you almost kicked me off?” he hums, a smirk on his face at the memory. his hand trails down your face, thumb pressing on your lip before he moves his hand over your chin and down your neck.

yeosang smirks when he watches you swallow nervously, his hand on your hip slipping between your thighs carefully. he doesn’t make any moves to touch you, just holds your inner thigh and allows his thumb to move slowly up and down your skin.

“he’s got a point baby,” yeosang’s voice mumbles, slightly deeper than even seonghwa’s morning voice. “you do take up a lot of room for being the smallest one here.”

with their hands on you and an intense feeling building in the air, you’re quickly being humbled. 

seonghwa’s hand trailing over your white t-shirt until it’s ghosting over your nipples, the palm of his hand on the sensitive bud causing your breath to quicken.

or that could be because yeosang’s hand is so close to your pussy, just a few inches away from touching your bare, growing wetness.

“i... i don’t mean too,” you say, growing more and more submissive and ready to whine as your two boyfriends start to cloud your senses; you were scolding them and now you’re the one being punished - how is that fair? 

seonghwa’s hand gently guides your shirt up until your bare chest hits the cold air, a deeply mumbled “fuck,” leaving him before he dips his head down and attaches his mouth to your nipple.

you let out a surprised gasp, sensations of pleasure shooting right between your legs. yeosang is readily there with his long, skilled fingers, toying with your slit and teasingly running up and down the growing wetness.

“you might not mean to,” yeosang says, eyes peeking up to see seonghwa’s face in your chest and your mouth thrown back in pleasure. “but you still do it, don’t you?”

his finger slides into you easily, a loud moan escaping you that has seonghwa smiling against your boob. his other hands move over to tweak with your nipple, yeosang keeping up his movements as he curls his finger inside of you.

you’ve barely been up for ten minutes but you feel yourself about to come, both the boys far too skilled and ready to give you pleasure however and whenever you want it.

you cry out when yeosang slips another finger inside of you, seonghwa disconnecting his mouth from your nipple to kiss you deeply. skilled tongue slipping in your mouth as his lips part on yours and you’re kissing back just as desperately.

chasing your orgasm as your hips buck into yeosang’s hand.

“are you about to come?” seonghwa mumbles when he pulls back, his hand trailing over your neck and squeezing at the sides lightly. “has your pretty little pussy had enough? are you gonna come just from yeosang’s hand?”

“y-yes,” you moan out, hand reaching out to hold onto seonghwa’s shoulder. “and your mouth.”

“please, he didn’t do shit,” yeosang mutters, his fingers fucking into you with just the right amount of pressure and speed.

they both watch with lust in their eyes as you moan loudly, eyes rolling back as you throw your head into the pillow. yeosang removes his hand immediately, tapping at your hip gently.

“turn around.”

but seonghwa can tell immediately what yeosang wants to do, the dirty blonde slapping his hand away and instead gripping your hips tightly.

“you got to touch her,” seonghwa growls, bitter over the fact he didn’t get to make you ome first thing in the morning. “now i get to fuck her.”

“you waited too long to make your move,” the black-haired boy smirks, the double meaning in his words making him roll his eyes. “that’s why i got her first.”

“well, maybe if you didn’t-”

“stop,” you whine, the growing feeling of wet empitness making you frown at your two boyfriends. “one of you, please. the o-other can fuck my mouth. i’ll be good, i promise.”

seonghwa and yeosang share a look before the dirty blonde flips you over and pulls up your hips, rising your ass in the air as he holds himself on his knees. the bed is firm enough so that he doesn’t sink down, rubbing over your ass gently before landing a loud, resounding smack.

“you’re always good for us, baby girl,” he says, trailing his dick up and down your wet slit. “you’re always so so good.”

you whine as he teases you, knowing that, with seonghwa, it’s better if you’re polite and wait. he likes seeing you desperate and whining, always waiting until he says it’s okay to buck your hips or chase your own orgasm.

but he doesn’t give you the time today.

because one second you’re empty and wet and ready to scream and then the next, his hips are smacking into yours and he’s fucking the life out of you. snapping them just the right way and in just the right spots for you to be crying out into your hot and stuffy bedroom.

“seonghwa,” you moan, the slapping of skin and quiet grunts filling the room.

it’s all halted, however, when yeosang’s in front of you, his hard cock just inches from your face as he looks down at you. there’s a smirk on his face seeing you so fucked out and desperate because of them, guiding your mouth to him and smiling when you take his cock without a second thought.

your tongue laps at the tip, swirling around and around until you sink down on it further. you hold back a gag when he hits the back of your throat, your head getting into a groove that has yeosang cursing and groaning your name harshly.

“there you go, baby,” you hear seonghwa growl from behind you, his hand reaching around you play with your clit. “you take us both so well. filling you up and making you feel good, right baby?”

“r-right, seonghwa,” you moan, eyes rolling back when his cock starts hitting a certain spot inside you. he can feel you’re about to come by the way you tighten around him, by the way your head starts bobbing harsher and yeosang’s grunts grow louder and deeper.

“come first, baby. it’s okay,” seonghwa says, partially because they always want you to come first and partially because he knows he’s about to bust inside of you.

it takes you clenching and throwing your hips back against his for him to come, one last snap of his hips causing you both to release. you’re moaning against yeosang’s cock when he releases too, the vibrations and knowledge that you just came with his cock in your mouth far too much.

the room is a mess of bodily fluids, heavy breathing and sweat but it doesn’t matter. you collapse on top of the bed as seonghwa pulls out of you and yeosang massages the sides of your aw gently.

the black-haired boy mumbles sweet nothings to you as seonghwa gets a warm rag, cleaning between your legs before he kisses the top of your head sweetly.

“you did good, baby,” he mumbles, collapsing on the bed next to you and wrapping arm around your waist. the three of you lay in silence for a few moments, heart rates calming and senses coming back before yeosang looks at you with a soft, sweetness in his eyes.

“oh. and happy valentine’s day baby.”

you’ll never forget your first valentine’s day as a couple with yeosang and seonghwa.

it was only a few months after you confessed to seonghwa during your sophomore year, the three of you just starting out and establishing rules for your new relationship.

they had all been strangely easy to work out, the number one rule being to always communicate. 

be open and honest about everything one of you may being feeling, so there’s not a spiral of miscommunication and tears the way there was that one disconnected summer.

the transition had been strangely easy for all of you too, probably because yeosang knew seonghwa liked you way before he called his friend out.

the parts of it that had been hard, however, was something you least expected - telling the rest of the boys and reserving a table for three on valentine’s day.

“wait... you’re all going to dinner?” san asked, looking at the three of you with confusion on his face. “can we come? what the hell.”

“you’re not sending us off the bar again but instead leaving us alone? why can seonghwa go but not us? we wanna spend time with, y/n, too.”

“because i’m her boyfriend, bud. who are you?”

seonghwa’s deep, sarcastic voice halted all the whines and complaints immediately, everyone’s eyes wide as they look to yeosang. the black-haired boy can only smirk as he feels eyes on him, a reassuring nod that sends the house into chaos again.

asking what kind of swinger shit is going on and how long it’d been going on under their roof without them knowing.

“it’s not swinger shit, dickhead, we’re just both dating her. like... one cohesive unit that live together and take care of her. me and seonghwa both agreed to it. in fact, i think it was more so my idea.”

“it was definitely your idea,” you tell him, seonghwa’s arm around your shoulder as he watches you talk with  smile. “you’re the one who told me to tell seonghwa i liked him!”

a snort leaves yeosang and seonghwa as there’s a mix of different reviews in the crowd.

hongjoong and yunho are looking on supportively, the only two boys who had lingering suspicions about seonghwa’s feelings for you.

wooyoung, san and jongho are only slightly confused, a mix of happy and cautious like they don’t know what’s about to happen but are here for it.

and mingi is by far the most baffled, looking between you, seonghwa and yeosang before shaking his head in bewilderment.

"straight people are so weird.”

you nearly spit out your drink at dinner reliving the story with yeosang and seonghwa, the table full of meat, pasta and bread as you celebrate valentine’s day together.

going out on dates was something you also had to get used to, usually surrounded by lovey-dovey couples who only had eyes for each other; but for you guys, the dynamic was obviously different.

you’d hold seonghwa’s hand while smiling lovingly at yeosang. yeosang would have his hand on your lower back while you and seonghwa played footsie under the table.

if anyone were nosy or curious about your dynamic, they’d be able to pick up on it really quick - but you three didn’t care. it wasn’t anyone’s business but your own and as long as you guys were all happy, it didn’t matter.

“he’s such a little shit,” seonghwa mutters, a giggle leaving your mouth as yeosang raises a fork to your mouth. you open up happily, biting into a piece of chicken and chewing on the flavorful food.

you three eat until you’re ready to explode, seonghwa and yeosang splitting the check before walking out to your car. 

you half expect to go back home, lay out in bed with them and spend the rest of the night watching cheesy romantic comedy, until you realize you’re in the car for a while.

your head resting on the chair as you turn to look at yeosang.

“where are we going?”

“it’s a surprise,” he mumbles, your mouth dropping open as you look at seonghwa in the back seat.

“wait.. do you know?”

he shrugs his shoulders with a smirk pulling at his lips, a whine leaving your mouth as you wack both of them in the arms.

“that’s not fair! please tell me, too!”

“we’re almost there, baby, c’mon,” seonghwa mumbles, moving closer to take your face in his hands. “come back here with me.”

“no,” yeosang says, taking one hand off the wheel to hold your arm tightly; but seonghwa’s at an advantage, picking you up over the console and dragging you up and onto his lap.

he drowns out the sounds of yeosang’s yelling, securing you onto his lap as you straddle him with a chastising look on your face.

“that was dangerous,” you mumble, a snort leaving him as he shakes his head at you.

“it’s fine,” he mumbles, your lips meeting in a kiss that you meet back immediately. 

yeosang looks in the rearview mirror when he hears the sounds of lips smacking and muffled moans, throwing an empty water bottle that just misses seonghwa’s head.

“i’m not your fucking uber driver,” yeosang snaps, “don’t make out when i can’t join.”

“hear that, baby? he wants to kiss me, too.”

you muffle your giggles into his chest, seonghwa and yeosang bantering back and forth as you rest your head on seonghwa’s chest. he’s warm and toned underneath you, the gentle lull of the car causing your eyes to close.

you’re not sure if you fall asleep, you think you’re in that weird space of consciousness and slumber, when you hear yeosang mumbling your name. his lips are by your ear and you look up at him sleepily, a smile on his face when he tells you to wake up.

you look around to see you’re still in the car, the black leather interior one you’re very used to by now. but what you’re not used to seeing is the ocean outside the windows, a gasp leaving your mouth that quickly wakes you up.

you run out and onto the beach, yeosang trailing behind as he shouts your name with a smile.

seonghwa and him had already set up the blankets on the sand, a cooler full of drinks and snacks off the side.

“yeosang told me this was your first date,” seonghwa mumbles, his arms wrapping around your waist. “gotta admit, pretty smooth even for him.”

a smile brightens your face as you peck his lips, intertwining your hands before reaching out to grab yeosang’s.

you drag the two boys out to the freezing ocean, both of their desperate pleas to not freeze their balls off going unheard by you. you just giggle and pull them out further, squealing when the freezing water hits you feet and you jump up.

they both move to catch you, yeosang catching one leg and seonghwa catching the other as you hold yourself above them.

“baby, this was your fucking idea,” yeosang complans, the smile on his face proving he’s not bad in the slightest.

you frolic around with the two boys until your feet are numb. giggling and squealing when seonghwa catches you around the waist and pecking yeosang’s lips when you fall back and collapses on top of you.

“i love you,” he mumbles against your mouth, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you smile against him.

you spend the rest of the night cuddled between them, your head on seonghwa’s stomach as yeosang sits next to you, playing with your fingers and blowing hot air on your cold hands.

it’s calm and peaceful and everything you’ve ever wanted. 

there’s a different type of feeling in the air compared to the first time you were here with just yeosang, something that feels right and sweet and like without, both, yeosang and seonghwa here, it just wouldn’t be the same.

“i love you,” seonghwa mumbles when you look up at him, his hands twirling through your hair as he bends down to peck your lips.

all your cheeks are red from the wind and the tips of your fingers are freezing but you don’t wanna leave just yet. you just wanna stay here together, enjoy the silence and the crash of the waves and the occasional squawk of a brave seagull.

maybe even wait until the sun comes up to watch the sunrise, if you guys don’t completely freeze to death together.

january - senior year

your trip to the mountains doubled as a two year anniversary/graduation celebration.

the three of you were still as strong as ever, dealing with bumps in the road that all couples went through: fits of miscommunication, times of insecurity, even acknowledging that, sometimes, you need seonghwa and yeosang for different things.

seonghwa’s the boyfriend who understands you. 

is similiar to you and knows the way your introverted mind works. you go to him when you feel most uncomfortable in a crowd, like at frat parties or in bars where you know yeosang just thrives.

but yeosang’s the one who pushes you to do extraordinary things - maybe not even extraordinary, just things you normally wouldn’t do; he’s the one who pushed you to do you research with your professor that ended up allowing you to graduate one semester early with them.

so in order to celebrate, you three rented a house in the mountains with one bedroom, a giant movie room and a hot tub on the balcony.

spent a week in the snowy, picturesque country where you lounged around in bed, soaked in the hot tub and became even more sure that this is what you wanted for the rest of your life.

to wake up next to seonghwa and yeosang, even if it meant having the blankets ripped off of you in the night.

to live with them and build a life together with them, deal with the bickering that comes with dating best friends who have known each other for their entire lives.

to act surprised when, in a few years when you’re settled with jobs and a house, they buy you matching wedding bands to show off the fact that you’re theirs.

[realisticjojoxreader]

For writing requests: Hugging the Crusaders!!!!!!!! 😳🥺👉🏻👈🏻

this was very fun to write lol these guys suck

stardust crusaders x reader (?), part 3 obviously, 1.4k

JOSEPH:

You ask for a hug and he obliges instantly, starved for affection since his grandson will barely speak to him. His arms are warm around you, stronger than they should be at his age, and he holds you tight, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. It feels like you’re the center of his universe.

Taking a deep breath, you wrinkle your nose. What is that smell...? Is that his aftershave? It’s like dust, almost, mixed with wet paper. Where on earth did he get something like that? Why does he use it? It stinks.

The hug is so comfortable, though, and you feel so loved, that you can ignore the weird old man smell. His shirt is scratchy against your skin.

After a long moment, he releases you, hands brushing gently through your hair. Then, something snags, tugging on your hair. Hard. Like, really hard. It actually really fucking hurts. You recoil instinctively, which just pulls your hair even harder, making your scalp burn.

“Oh no!!” screams Joseph, so loudly that you flinch, which just tugs your hair yet again, and you yelp. “Oh shit!! My prosthetic hand is caught in your hair!!”

“Why aren’t you wearing your glove?!”

He hisses apologetically. “I, uh, took it off when I went to the loo.” Oh my god, ew. What the fuck, dude? For a long moment, he stands there trying to undo what he's done, wiggling his fingers in your hair completely ineffectually. “I don’t think we can untangle this ourselves," he says eventually, taking the L. "Let’s go get my grandson.” He turns toward where the others are all standing and takes a slow but confident step forward.

Then Joseph, graceful as ever, trips over absolutely nothing and falls like a sack of bricks. You thoughtlessly brace yourself with your Stand to make sure he doesn’t drag you down, too, forgetting that his hand is very much still stuck in your hair. He falls and takes a hand-sized chunk of your hair with him, leaving you partially bald and sobbing from the pain.

You collapse to the ground, screaming, and the others rush over, finally noticing that something’s happening over here.

“Oops,” says Joseph, holding up a fistful of your hair.

“Nice haircut, idiot,” says Jotaro, looking at you with a tiny smile on his face, like today is Christmas and your partial baldness is his gift from Santa. God, fuck the entire Joestar bloodline. You hope DIO kills them all. They'd absolutely have it coming, though you'd miss Holly.

The only reason you don't abandon them is a promise from Joseph that he'll cover all your expenses until you're back home.

ABDUL:

You ask for a hug and he squints, for second, as if unsure you meant it. When you smile encouragingly, he smiles back and steps forward to wrap you up in his arms.

The hug is warm, like sheets that have just been pulled from the dryer, complete with the clean smell of fresh linen. You’re not sure how he smells so good, seeing as you’ve been traveling in the desert for days, now, and everyone else stinks to high heaven, but you won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

His jewelry rattles as bit as he starts to sway, still holding you tight. You’ve never felt so safe before, especially not since the group made it to Egypt, closing in on DIO in Cairo. As long as you stay in Abdul’s arms, nothing bad can happen.

He pulls back a bit to look you in the eyes. His expression is so hopelessly kind that you have to look away, overwhelmed with it. “Look at me,” he says, voice soft as anything, and you oblige. He says half of your name before his face contorts, as if he’s in pain.

“Abdul? Are you—” you get cut off when Abdul sneezes, right on your face, right into your open mouth. “FUCK!” God, it was so wet, you're going to fucking lose it. You can’t help but punch him in the shoulder.

Because he’s a nice person, Abdul is horrified by what he’s just done to you and also graciously ignores you hitting him. “I’m so sorry!”

It was an accident, so you really can’t get too mad, but you’re still upset. That was so fucking gross.

Something smells weird, now, too. Like smoke.

“Hey, noroma,” says Jotaro, calling you the little nickname he has for you—you don't know what it means, but you're the only one he calls that, which you kind of love. It means you're special to him. Him and the others are finally back from the gas station convenience store, arms full of snacks and water. Jotaro looks bored as ever when he tells you, “Your jacket’s on fire.”

Ah. That explains the smoke smell.

Ultimately, your jacket is ruined and you have minor burns on your wrists. You ask the Crusaders to drop you off at the Cairo airport, because you can’t keep fucking doing this, not after what Joseph did to your hair yesterday.

But then Polnareff makes some revolting-ass puppy dog eyes at you, imploring you to stay, and for some reason, you cave. Anything to get him to stop making that awful face.

POLNAREFF:

You ask for a hug and he grins at you, big and stupid and pleased as punch. That's the expression he makes any time anyone is ever nice to him.

His hug is a little awkward, like he's not used to having someone so close to him. It'd make you feel bad for him if he didn't stink to high heaven. You kind of expected that—he's French, after all—so you're able to ignore it, for the most part. It's not like the others smell like a bag of roses, either, except Abdul, because he rules. (Destroyed jacket and burns that still smart something awful notwithstanding.) It's been a long journey.

After not very long at all, Polnareff starts to get antsy, almost vibrating in your arms. What is he, five years old? Can't he relax long enough for a single hug?

Then he starts giggling, which puts you on edge instantly. Nothing good can come out of him when he's snickering like that.

Before you can pull away, though, you find out why he's giggling.

He's still cackling when he presses his wet, sweat-soaked palms against the bare skin of your arms. You violently recoil and, with more anger than you felt even when Joseph partially balded you, you punch Polnareff right in his stupid fucking nose.

Blood erupts from his face like a geyser. Before you can even laugh at him, something hits you with the force of a moving train. It feels… naked?

Oh. It's Star Platinum. Great. Great! That's just what you needed today, to get your ass beat by Jotaro and his mostly-naked guy of a stand.

Maybe DIO's taking applications.

You almost walk off yet again, but Joseph reminds you of his promise and promises that you're allowed to sit in the front of every car from now on. He also stops Jotaro from kicking the shit out of you, so you stick around, though you suspect you'll regret it.

KAKYOIN:

You ask for a hug and he looks at you like you have two heads. “Me?” he asks incredulously, looking around as if searching for the person you were really talking to. The others are all in the restaurant's restroom right now.

“Yes, you. Who else?” There’s literally no one else around.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t really do hugs. Could you go ask Jotaro or something?”

JOTARO:

Instead of asking for a hug—you know he'll just say no—you ambush him with one, waiting for him to turn the corner and walk right into your open arms. This wouldn't normally work, but you made sure to spring your trap when he was in a heated (though still playful) argument with Polnareff about whale sharks.

Just as you planned, he notices you far too late to stop you, and you grin wide as you wrap your arms around him. He feels solid and warm. You never want to let go.

Jotaro doesn't give you much of a choice.

"Ew," he says before summoning Star Platinum, who grabs you by the scruff of the neck like a naughty kitten. "This is why I call you noroma. Fucking dipshit." And with that, Star Platinum flings you bodily into the dirty ass canal running along the side of the road.

DIO is, in fact, taking applications. You get rejected.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Tattoo Shop AU - a quick, practical guide for writers

Guest Post by lebanon-hangover

lebanon-hangover said: this is based on my personal experience with the industry only, so depending on the era and country you are portraying, it may not be 100% accurate for your setting.

Hygiene

It may not be obvious at first glance, but most tattooists are clean freaks. We work with human blood every day, and we get clients from all ages, ethnic and social economic backgrounds, with all sorts of medical conditions.

We usually mop frequently, bleach the sinks, wipe down everything, and use cling film or bags to wrap everything. I mean fucking everything. We also scrub in, and sanitise the area on the person we work on.

Needles are collected in a sharps bin, and handled very carefully. Medical waste goes in yellow bags, and both are collected by a professional service.

Used ink caps may look full, but the ink gets diluted by blood. Like you dip the inky needle into the person, but you also dip the person’s blood into your ink. These are medical waste too.

Cleaning up must be done promptly after the session. Bin everything disposable, put things through the ultrasonic and the autoclave, and sanitise the area. We may take machines apart, but more for maintenance than cleaning, sometimes we swap parts in them too.

We have two sinks, one for hand washing, one for cleaning.

All inks and needles have use by dates.

The internal dynamics of a studio

Depending on the country, some tattoo shops tend to have ties to biker gangs, and some of those internal dynamics and unwritten rules are often present.

There’s a pecking order and it’s dead serious. Basically the longer you’ve been in a shop, the higher ‘rank’ you are, you get the better positioned stations, first pick of walk-ins, etc (Unless the client is asking for someone by name). Regardless of your actual experience in the industry, like if you move into your old apprentice’s shop, they are still senior to you. If the owner or their partner is an artist, obviously they are on top of the chain by default.

We are self employed, but we have a boss. You are only making money if you are working, but you still have set work hours.

We get paid by the clients, and we pay the studio a cut. In return, there are some items provided by them, and some we buy for ourselves. Usually the chairs, tattoo beds, gloves, cleaning products, clip cord covers, masks, aprons, ink caps, vaseline, green soap, and some basic ink is provided by the shop. We buy our own machines, arm rests, stations, pedals, power supplies, clipcords, tips and grips, needles, special colours, stencil fluid…these are a personal preference, and often depend on the artists’ style.

We totally ask to try out each other’s equipment sometimes, or ask for a certain type of needle if we ran out.

The receptionist is usually just one of us, maybe a piercer, but it also can be a hired person in top studios.

The apprentice in the traditional system is often mistreated, and they have to pay for their education, have to be there multiple days a week and don’t make any money. It’s kind of like a tear them down, build them back up again thing to see if they are really serious about the job. Times are slowly changing, but 99% of them will always need a second job. Most of them are working as bar staff.

When you open a new studio, you must visit all the existing local ones and introduce yourself, otherwise you may get a brick through the window. Otherwise there’s not much beef among individual artists, they are often friends, go to conventions together and party after, etc.

The Artists

Tattooing is a fairly physical job, stretching skin is very important. We have to also keep our clients safely still, so we often use positions to pin them down a bit. Sometimes you hit a reflex point on the foot or under a knee, and you don’t want to get kicked. Sometimes you have to pull away super fast, cos they are sneezing, yawning or giggling.

Most tattooists drink a lot of coffee, tea or energy drinks.

Some people are all rounders, some have specific styles, but we recognise each other’s art styles. Sometimes we delegate work to each other, if we think our coworkers style fits the concept better. For example if there’s a person who does script well, we give them those projects.

We don’t like when people come in with designs from other artists. Art theft is frowned upon, and we work best with our own drawings.

Most apprentices practice on their own legs, and sometimes we tattoo each other when it’s quiet. Most people have cover ups, or bad pieces from their early days. The artists’ own tattoos sometimes are in a different style than what they do, but we like to collect ink from friends or colleagues we admire.

In the first 1-2 years one is an apprentice, then junior artist. At 5-8 years of tattooing, you have earned your stripes and are considered an experienced artist.

Conventions are really fun, but can be stressful. You can make good money working at one, and sometimes get awarded for it too. We can also spend a lot at a convention.

Sometimes we poke our fingers by accident, and it’s a scary thing. Good case scenario is just some random dots on your fingers. Let’s not go into the bad case scenario.

We do guest spots sometimes, just to meet new clients, and change it up a bit.

We spend a lot of time drawing up things, and designs are meant to fall on specific muscles, stretch with the skin a certain way, so they are tailored to the body proportions of the client. A good tattoo is also an optical illusion, complimenting the body shape.

Social media presence is like a second job, you need good photos, and you need to market yourself.

Tattoo ink does not wash out, so some stains are inevitable when pouring it out. Those ink bottles get stuck so easily, and we wrestle them a lot. We try to avoid it, but wearing all dark colours is a thing for a reason.

The Clients

Tattooists need to have a good ‘bedside manners’ too. We get nervous or self conscious people, and we are told personal things during long sessions. For example scar coverups and memorial pieces can be very emotional.

We have pretty good poker faces and first aid trainings. People can faint, get shaky, throw up, some have seizures, have b.o., get sweaty, etc the same way as at a blood donation event? It’s no big deal really. We sit them down, give them some water and some sugar, and re-book them if necessary. Most artists keep some wet wipes, mouth wash, deodorant, sweets, maybe even some clean clothes at work, just in case.

If someone comes in with a wild idea for a jobstopper, we would sit down and have a long talk. If they haven’t got many tattoos, we usually try to stir them towards more safe choices, offering them creative ideas. It’s like those jedi mind tricks sometimes.

If someone is undecided, we show them our own hand drawn flash sheets. Once its gone, its gone tho, we don’t use the designs twice.

Pinterest is full of photoshopped fake tattoos, some that won’t even work as real ink. Many people also touch up their work digitally on photos, so some clients have really unrealistic expectations.

We can totally tell if someone is intoxicated or hangover. It thins the blood, and they bleed out the ink, and it’s super annoying. if it’s bad, they will be sent home and rebooked.

Some folks are self conscious about body hair, their size, stretch marks and scars. Chances are, we have seen similar, and we aren’t bothered by it, because it’s work. Surgery scars, scars from accidents, self harm scars, burns, we see it all the time. We shave some really hairy dudes all the time girl, your legs are fine. Seriously. If something makes tattooing you dangerous we will tell you.

Fit, muscular people are harder to tattoo because they are really firm. Its a workout for us.

Everyone gets midnight messages about the aftercare from nervous clients, and drunken booty calls about getting inked right at this second. We have copy paste replies…

We get creeps sometimes. Stalking, weird conversations, tmi info dumps etc.

Other things to include (for fun, or for plot reasons)

We sometimes have those “oh fuck” moments. We all do, but mistakes can be fixed, and we play it cool.

Tattooing takes time. Usually 30 minutes to multiple sessions though years and years.

Healing tattoos takes about 2-4ish weeks, and your characters shouldn’t go roll around in dirt, sunbathe, swim, pick at the scabs. Nasty infections, and messed up tattoos would be the results.

If you have a strong immune system, and you get a lot of work done in one sitting, you may get a brief bit of a temperature. It’s normal, and will go away.

Its a lot easier to get seriously drunk after getting a tattoo. Be careful.

We sometimes draw on each other for practice with our marker pens.

Tattoos are inside the skin, not on top of it. Imagine a low opacity, skin toned layer over the ink, adding to the healed tattoos’ colour. Please stop making your characters skin fully transparent.

Heavy blackwork and palms are done in multiple sessions.

You can’t cover up moles, because if they develop skin cancer, the dermatologist can’t see the signs.

There’s a stereotype about piercers having blacked out sleeves.

Stencil fluid looks just like cum.

You get that annoying itch on your face when you scrubbed in, put on gloves and finally ready to go.

Some artists have a strong preference for coil or rotary machines, and they bicker about it a lot. Coils are louder, more punchy, and more traditional, perfect for lineart. They can be customised, and they last forever. They are also called glorified doorbells by people who prefer rotaries. Rotary machines are smoother, lighter, and often use needles that are pulled back into the cartridges for safety. They are better for shading and delicate line work. Older tattooists often say they are dildo or butt plug shaped, overly delicate and are for “soft millennials” only.

Every artist owns like 5 to 20 machines, and they have specific machine builders they are loyal to.

The “which cable is broken and cutting out” guessing game. Clip cords and pedal cables get worn out easily, and that results in your machine running really jerky.

Walk-in always show up 10 minutes before closing.

We often look quite silly at work. Sleeves rolled up, folks use all sorts of plastic ppe, headlamps, and we tie up our hair. Add couple of purple smears from carbon paper, and we aren’t scary at all.

[waywardimpalawriter]

Laundry Day (Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Female Reader)

Laundry Day

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Female Reader

Bucky Bingo Square: Domestic AU

Characters: Bucky Barnes,

Setting: two months from the ending of “Hey Bartender”, set in the Marvel universe but canon diverged the snap never happened.

Rating: M (Mature), +18 only please

Warnings: cursing, mature themes, angst, longing/yearning, idiots pining for one another,

Word count: 3,002

Summary: Sunday’s the dreaded laundry day when there’s not a stitch of clothing to wear except the man your currently crushing on, soft Henley shirt.

Notes: Bingo Square fill and written for the lovey @autumnleaves1991-blog​ and Write Wednesday prompt.

Tag list: @buckybingo​

You’ve heard it many time, how cool you own a bar. Can drink whenever you want. Let me drink for free. Last thought getting a snort from your lips while looking through the laundry pile. The main reason owning you a business sucked you never get a day off to do normal shit like the fucking laundry that seems to pile up before you know what’s happened. Wondering if like rabbits it multiples while mating.

Huffing out a resigned sigh, tossing the last article of dirty clothing back into the basket thankful you wouldn’t need to schlep the bags to a local laundromat. Instead could get a little light cleaning done while the built in laundry room, a big thank you too granddad for putting the room in, did at least part of the work.

“Fucking hate laundry day,” low growl leaving your lips and tugging on the only clean clothes left.

Hefting the plastic basket on to your generous hip, grabbing the towel off the bedroom doorknob to add and heading towards the small room just off the bathroom to the left. Dropping the basket down you go back out to put on some music. Grabbing up your cell phone happy to have brought large capacity storage so your whole collection could fit. Setting all of Lady Gaga’s music on shuffle ‘Monster’ flowing through the small speakers positioned around your living room in specific areas for optimal sound quality. Wide hips swaying to the beat black Henley brushing the tops of your thick thighs incased in shorts, knee high socks keeping the rest of your legs warm and helping you slide across the oak wood floors. Not caring what you look like at the moment, expecting no one to show up on an early Sunday morning.

Bright smile slides over your lips the song changing to ‘Born this way’ belting out the words thankful and not for the first time you don’t have neighbors. Owning the whole building does come with certain perks. Meaning it didn’t matter how loud you got no one would call the cops on you for excessive noise or lousy singing. With those thoughts in mind you head back to start sorting clothes getting a load going, grabbing the swiffers dust clothes, mop and bucket on your way out.

Leaving the last two by the kitchen island, spinning back body moving to the beat of the music. Picking up bits of trash making you frown for a moment, knowing you weren’t that messy but shrugging off the thought tossing the trash. Starting to dance around, straightening lamps, running the dust cloth over the expanse of hard wood furniture and nick knacks from your childhood. Getting into the rhythm, beat caressing your body, tingling your senses making you move in ways you wouldn’t show another living soul only these four walls.

Finishing up the living room, you stand back to catch a breath admiring your handing work when ‘Shallow’ starts to play. Bradly Cooper’s smooth tenor caressing your ears a soft sigh leaving your lips. Your body starts to move to the melody, slow and sensuous, arms wrapping around your tummy as you sway. Twirling as Lady Gaga’s voice takes over, stepping around the couch that faces towards the tv positioned in the middle of a brick wall. Bursting out to sing the chorus, you keep swaying picking the tempo up. Draping your body backwards over the couch careful not to knock a lamp off the side table. Grabbing up a remote to use as a makeshift microphone, singing your heart out to no one but the empty room or so you think.

Raising back up slowly to spin away still belting out the lyrics breathlessly, wide smile on your face happiness thumping through your veins. Feeling freer than you have in a long time all thanks to a song that comes to an end with loud clapping ringing through your apartment. Making you scream out and throw the remote towards the source of the nose. Squeak existing your breathless lips that hang open staring at Bucky Barnes’s imposing figure filling the doorway of your apartment.

Catching the black plastic wrapped remote in his flesh hand before it landed against his chest, smirk sliding over those oh so kissable lips. Not that you haven’t dreamt of at least a couple nights a week. “Fucking hell Barnes how long have you been standing there?” Quickly moving towards your phone to cut the music.

Turning to take in his rumpled appearance. Chestnut hair tucked back into a messy ponytail few wisps hanging out to frame his face. Sculpted by the finest artists all angles and edges begging for your lips to caress. That’s graced with shadows of a sleepless night of tossing and turning in a to soft bed and a floor too cold for comfort. Sold wall of muscle that is his shoulders and chest covered in a wrinkled green Henley top button open to bare just a hint of collarbone. You try not to lick dry lips at the peek of skin wanting to bury your nose in the hollow of his throat and nibble to see what sounds you could drag from those sinful lips. Snapping back to the present when he begins to speak before your wondering eyes could take in the bottom half of his fackable body. They lock with his for a moment longer than proper catching the dark circles and weariness he tries to hide behind that boyish smile.  

“Long enough,” clearing his throat to push down the arousal building up. In truth he tried knocking first, pounding followed with a couple of shouts of your name to accompany. Hearing the music spilling from behind the close door Bucky pulled the key you gave him last month out to let himself in.

Unprepared for the sight his eyes would land upon after pushing the old hard oak door open. Music hitting him square in the ears, not unpleasant a tune but a touch loud. However, that’s not what caught his eyes, no it’s the way you moved around the apartment to the melody. Body swaying, rolling and bending in ways that had him gritting his teeth to keep from stepping forward and pulling your soft body against his strong chest. Wanting to fill the spot of invisible partner, dipping you in his arms, wrapping them around your thick waist. Teasing the column of your throat with his lips after bending you backwards over his arm.

You’re a fucking temptation to his body and damnation to his heart and soul. One Bucky Barnes would gladly partake of if he didn’t feel so tainted, hands coated in invisible blood, mind splintered with nightmares of memories and lies. He wouldn’t saddle you with him as a burden. He’d push those feelings back bury them, accepting the friendship you offer and a shelter from a world he’s yet to fully grow accustom too.

Hands on your wide hips, scowl contorting your beautiful features, “I didn’t give you that key so you could barge in whenever you like Bucky.”

“I brought breakfast,” pointing towards the little white bags on the small wooden table by the door. Giving you the saddest puppy eyes he could which only makes you huff and roll your own.

Shaking your head, “You think you’re cute don’t ya Barnes?” Trying to infuse a touch of anger into your tone but it comes out more playful teasing than growling menace.

“Of course doll, you wouldn’t have me any other way,” wiggling his brow, scooping up the bags to follow you into the kitchen. Kicking something over he looks down teasing smirk slides over his lips before giving way to a playfully sheepish look, “Guess I finally kicked the bucket huh?”

Trying to hold back the laughter but it comes out on a snort that has a deep gruff laugh issuing from Bucky which in turn makes you giggle harder. Holding your stomach as it aches from the mirth lighting your features. Taking notice of the fact years have disappeared from the weariness he normally carries. Eyes sparkling in early morning sunlight shining in from the kitchen window. His beautiful steals your breath for a moment as you calm down, turning to start the Keurig, reaching for the pods of coffee you keep just for Bucky.

“Incorrigible Barnes, sit ya ass down while I make coffee,” couple of short giggles break free with another shake of your head.

Placing the bags down before dropping into his usual seat, “Two…”

“Spoonfuls of sugar no cream or milk I remember along with the dark roast that’s your favorite,” shooting him a smile. Grabbing your cell, changing the music to shuffle your whole library, turning the volume down so its more background noise than actually listening. “What brings you by this morning? Besides taking ten years off my life of course.”  

Snorting at your quip with trying to hide that he’s smitten by the fact you’ve memorized how he likes his coffee. “Hadn’t seen you in a week doll, thought I’d drop in with breakfast and see if you need help with anything down in the bar.”

Taking a few moments to actually looking over your plush frame. Big mistake because he notices how those shorts mold to your wide hips and thick thighs begging for attention. Knee high socks shouldn’t look so damn sexy but on you he’s shifting in his seat to take pressure off the erection building in his jeans. Eyes dancing to take in your upper half damn near choking on his own spit at seeing you wear his Henley. Stretched out with age and use from his days in hiding and a little thicker in build. The way it stretched over your lush breasts cupping the generous globes outlined for his eyes to devour. Flowing against your tummy he wouldn’t object to laying his head on while cuddling into your body. Wanting to place kisses and nibbles on the skin hidden from his widening cerulean eyes. Shocking him back to reality with you placing a steaming mug of coffee in front of him.

Palm going to his forehead, “Really doll, what exactly are you feeling for?” Glancing up to search your turned down face. Catching the soft scent of Egyptian musk, mixed with clean linen and something sweet added that he’s sure belongs solely to you.

“Seeing if you have a fever, you checked out on me there for a few moments Barnes,” gently pressing the pads of your fingers into his neck, counting a pulse and sending goosebumps to skitter across his body.

Taking the hand from his body, the urge to pull you into his lap strong with your warmth radiating into his. “I’m fine sweetheart honest just lost in thought of this beautiful dame I know.”

“Lucky woman,” slowly pulling your hand back tramping down on the hurt flashing through your body. Heading back to start your own coffee, “Make yourself at home as usual,” shaking your head watching Bucky toe off his biker boots and prop his mismatched sock feet into the closest chair. Rolling your eyes, “Way to comfortable,” exasperated quip leaving your mouth as you head back and change laundry over.

“What’s with the get up anyway?” Not wanting to shout, Bucky followed to lean against the door jam of the all to small room. Coffee mug hovering near his lips thankful for not taking a sip when you bent over to add cloths to the dry.

Plush ass on display for his eyes to map, flesh hand tightening around ceramic mug while vibranium plates whirl with a clinched fist at his side. Tempting isn’t even a word he’d use to describe the torture your presenting him with. Quickly averting his eyes to the ceiling, but not before catching the peek of silken looking skin his shirt bares while sliding up. Searching now for something to distract himself. Before he did a very stupid thing like pull you into his arms and see if you fit against him like he’s imagined one too many times. Burying his face in your neck and tease the tender skin with three days worth of beard wanting to see if you’re sensitive and ticklish.  

Brought back from those sexual thoughts when you speak, words tossed over your shoulder, “It’s all I had to wear, everything else needed washing. Price I pay for owning and running my own bar,” shrugging you bend to pick up the next load swearing you hear a groan from the man behind you. Yet when you turn he just gives you a smile that seems to make his cerulean eyes dance.

“Ah that explains why you’re wearing my shirt though not how you got it,” against better judgement, Bucky reaches out to tug the hem. Baring a briefest hint of cleavage to his desire darken eyes, with all three buttons open. He swallows harshly taking a bigger sip of his hot coffee than meaning to but the slight burning mouth pain distracts him from those thoughts that could get him into trouble. “I’m not complaining doll just curious if you’re stealing my clothes when you come over to my place.”

Snorting, “It’s not your shirt Barnes, your clothes wouldn’t fit my wide ass,” placing a hand on his shoulder to push him out the doorway. “If anything it’s from a pervious boyfriend and just stretched out.” Though you can’t help but glance down at the shirt racking your brain to remember who left it behind. Till you remember not having a boyfriend for the last couple of years and even then you didn’t let them keep stuff at your apartment. Only Bucky, who has his own key and drops by when he needs a break from the Compound and Avenging. Eyes widen in shock at the realization that in fact this shirt belongs to Bucky and must’ve got put in with your laundry one of the last times he stayed the night after a bad mission.

Deep in thought, you miss the low growl leave his throat at the mention of other men or the way he frowns when you insult yourself. “You have a gorgeous ass doll stop putting yourself down,” gently grabbing your upper arm to spin you around and face him. “And yes that is my shirt, there’s a stain,” swallowing hard but still brushes his fingers over the darken slightly yellow patch between your breasts. “Right here, it’s dripped mustard from a Coney dog about three weeks back remember. We went to Coney Island since you never went, sharing the cotton candy and almost getting sick,” soft chuckle leaving his parted lips. “You’re laughter at the corny shows, riding the Ferris wheel, I almost felt normal for once,” vibranium hand dropping back to his side, he heads to the table and plops down into his previous seat. Cursing his actions, head cradled in his hands hiding from his behavior and you. Wanting the earth to swallow him whole for his stupidity in voicing those words instead of keeping them bottled up. For touching you without asking permission, but God does he want a repeat and this time not let go.  

Frozen by his words, heart aching for how he still feels, the searing touch of those cool metal fingers, but most of all by the realization he remembered a day you hold dear to your heart. Eyes close for a moment to gather your thoughts, taking a deep breath and heading for your cooling coffee. “What’d you bring for breakfast?” distracting them both of you from the elephant in the room.  

Head popping up so quickly your sure he’s cracked his neck, half smile tugging at his lips, but not reaching his eyes, “Your favorites of course.” Reaching for the bags to pull out a small assortment of breakfast pastries.

“Trying to fatten me up Barnes?” You jest though back peddle at the scowl Bucky sends you. “Okay, okay I won’t do that again,” hands up in surrender but under your breath, “till your gone.”

Caught in mid sip, “You do know I have superior hearing right?”

“Your point Superman?” Bringing your mug with to sit down on Bucky’s left.

“I heard what you muttered,” grabbing the cream cheese kolache and taking a health bite while keeping eye contact with you.

Shrugging, “Then I’ll keep those thoughts to myself from now on,” picking out your favorite pastry to nibble on. “Oh and don’t worry I’ll get your shirt back to you once the rest of my clothes finish. I’m sorry it’s so stretched out.”

“One of these days doll,” muttering the rest to himself. Thoughts running through his mind on how much he’d like to bend you over his lap or better yet spread out for him to taste. Till you understood the beauty held in your countenance, the sway of your wide hips and plush body. Learning just what you do to his body and heat. But he knew those imagines held a deeper sway than you’d let anyone else see. Ones needing more than searing touches and intimate kisses but true actions to show you the truth.

Confident on the outside but tormented by dark thoughts and self doubts. That revelation skitters across Bucky’s mind like hot iron dunked into cool water, shocking his system to how similar though different as well, in ways he didn’t want to examine not yet. Registering the last comment Bucky looks up at you, tracing the features of your face, how your body looks in his shirt with golden sunlight bathing you in a warm halo. Speaking the words before his brain can shut them off, “Keep the shirt doll it looks so much better on you and by the way you didn’t stretch it out I did.” Flashing you his patent smirk before taking another drink of lukewarm coffee. Never so thankful for laundry day, stretched out shirts and the beauty sitting next to him.

[iphoenixrising]

The Demon You Know

Day 1 Urban Fantasy AU | Magical/Supernatural Creatures | Time Travel

So, something a little off the grid for my first day of DickTim Week 2021. Special thanks to my wonderful babe @vellaphoria for the beta and the incredible peeps on the Capes and Coffee discord (looking at you @themandylion, @strawberryjei and others). Also need to show my undying love for @chippon because babe, we are making it work.

**

When the sun creeps up over the sky in Gotham, then it’s time to GTFO. Capes in the daytime aren’t the usual for the city, and Red Robin has been playing it too late, staying out far past O’s warning to bring it in for the night. So, really, he’s only got himself to blame.

His penthouse perch has seen more use in the last few months since, welp, Gotham and the fact he likes to get away from the team mentality sometimes, like to return to his roots and run the rooftops like when he was still that Robin. His trips to the Manor had become more frequent since B was back in the cowl and things in the family seemed to be returning to some semblance of normal. 

Well, as normal as it could get, really.

But all that goodwill and positivity is literally ghost. Red’s hands are shaky and his inner calm is absolutely blown. He’s ducking into his perch to throw his suit off, grab his duffle bag full of sundries and fake idents, then he’s going to hit the airport as fast as he can get a flight the hell out of town, away from the terrifying sight.

(He should just call Bart or Kon or Cassie, tell them he needs an out faster than he can arrange it himself, he needs to get away from–)

He knows he fucked up when the slight sounds, small and metallic in nature, make it past his pulse thumping in his ears.

Like a horror flick, he slowly turns as the front door gives a groan and is pushed open by a very familiar palm.

Dick’s blue eyes fall on him like a ton of bricks, on Red Robin’s feet frozen to the floor, his suit only half on, and no way he can get far enough to throw himself out a window.

Fuck.

“So,” Dick keeps his voice soft, footsteps easy as he steps inside Tim’s penthouse and closes the door behind him, “you finally found me out.”

Keeping his mouth shut in times like this has really saved his ass before, so Red doesn’t say a word, keeps every muscle in his body ready to spring for the right second –

Watching the would-be robber struggle in Dick’s grip, watching the light show brighten overwhelmingly, seeing what had to be-had to be feeding.

“I figured it would be you if anyone, actually, so I’m not really surprised, just… disappointed.” Dick continues softly, only in jeans and a t-shirt since Nightwing was oddly missing from the patrol roster last night.

And Red is apparently the only one that knows why.

“But that doesn’t mean I can just let you go, Timmy,” Dick isn’t stopping, his whole body lax while Red is wound tight, backing away from the man he thought he knew. “I really wish you hadn’t found out like this. I...I had other plans.” 

Whirlybirds and pellets aren’t going to help him here. Hand-to-hand and martial arts, aerial acrobatics, none of it is going to make a difference. 

His throat goes dry when Dick’s eyes get more and more blue, when his former mentor doesn’t stop advancing, and Red Robin is running out of room to back away.

“I tried to save you, Timmy. I tried so hard to get you away, out of Gotham, even if you went because you thought you had to find Bruce, I’m the one that gave you the compulsion to leave.” The low laugh is edged with something desperate, “why the hell couldn’t you stay away?”

“This is my city, just as much as Batman’s. You taking my fucking cape wasn’t enough,” Red Robin bites out, back thumping against the kitchen counter, realizing Dick had backed him into the corner. “How did you keep it from him? Constantine, Zatanna, all the magic users he has on speed dial and he never figured you out? No one in the JLA or Titans did?”

That makes Dick pause.

“He never had to. He knew what my parents were before they ever died, Timmy. Haley’s Circus came to Gotham regularly. Bruce always knew.”

The information blast hits him painfully, that Bruce didn’t bother to tell him and look at where they are now.

“And he didn’t try to help you?” Red, Tim, gapes at the still silhouette that used to be someone he thought he knew like he knew himself. Someone that’s always had this secret. “He didn’t try to –”

“Cure me?” Dick’s mouth lifts in a semblance of a smile Tim knows. “There is no cure for this, Timmy. It’s what I am. What my parents both were, the curse of the Romain Bababiljos. It’s unfortunate for me both of them were cursed, that just makes the...the hunger two-fold.”

And it’s just a few more steps, a raised hand that makes Tim flinch back, but only a fingertip taps the edge of the domino, makes the whiteouts raise.

Automatically, with everything he’s learned, studied, experienced about supernatural creatures, he ducks his head so he isn’t looking directly into those eyes. That doesn’t stop Dick from bracketing Tim in, both hands on the counter, their bodies a breath apart.

Dick laughs softly, close enough for Tim to feel the breath on his face. “The Titans...I never had to tell them. By then, I could control myself, at least mostly. The JLA? I’m one of the Batman’s proteges. I’ve been fighting crime since I was eight. They believe in me. There was never a reason for any of them to look too deeply past the surface.”

“Wh-what do you mean mostly?” Tim’s heart slams in his chest, “how many people have you killed, Dick?”

“Do you have any idea how awful the hunger is?” And the lower Dick’s voice goes, the harder Tim’s heart starts to pound. “Surviving on hugs and family affection is tantamount to starvation for someone like me. It’s so easy to kill someone during sex because the hunger is so much I can’t control it sometimes. Anyone I’m with is in danger.  That’s why I couldn’t stay with Babs, she’s too human. The one time I came close–” 

Dick breathes again and all Tim looks at is the span of throat, thinking of the soft, vulnerable parts, anything he can use to get the fuck away.

“–but I didn’t. I have...willpower sometimes. I drained her so close, though. She was-was so fragile, Timmy, and I was so hungry. I’d been starving for so damn long. She was hospitalized for longer than she’d been when the Joker shot her, and I said never again. But Wally and Kory were...different. I could go further with him without killing them, I could get more full than I’d been in a long time. It was still dangerous for them, but I was so far gone by the time...”

“They’re both still alive. Babs is still alive. Does she–?”

“Remember? Of course not. None of them do. I made sure of that, Tim, so none of them would be afraid of me.”  And the air changes when Dick gets closer, his eyes get brighter, and Tim almost chokes with the almost touch to his body under his suit. “But, you are going to be different, aren’t you? I’m not going to be able to convince your mind that what you saw was a dream.”

“So what? You’re going to make me “disappear”? You’ll give Bruce some sob story about how I got tired of the vigilante life and left for college or some shit? Going to bury me where no one will ever find me?” He isn’t looking at Dick’s face, can’t see his own end coming, can’t believe he’d put all his faith and belief in this man only to have it all come to this.

Tim laughs wetly, blinking rapidly, and everything suddenly comes together. “He won’t ever come looking for me anyway. You made sure of that when you made Damian your Robin. Nice plan, Dick. No one is going to give a shit if I’m never seen again anyway.”

And it’s stupid not to at least try, not to duck and kick out, trip up whatever Dick really is, to break a window and fucking run, try to get Bruce, Clark, Kon and Bart and Cassie, to get anyone to listen to him about what Dick really is, to try to save himself.

(If you’d never figured out Dick was Robin, if you never put yourself in front of him, you’d be safe now. Miserable but safe.)

Even if it’s his own brain pan spitting this out, he knows it’s bullshit. 

If he’d never approached Dick Grayson with proof Batman was losing his mind, Tim Drake wouldn’t have reached twenty-one. The way his life was going, he would have probably hung himself long before getting to this stage in his life. If he’d never had Bruce or Alfred or Dick or Steph, if he’d never had Robin, never had Young Justice or The Titans, if he’d never had the Clench, never felt the rumble under his feet as Gotham had fallen, if he’d never had the agony of losing everyone in his life, if he’d never had the drive to prove his adopted father was alive…

The civilian Tim Drake wouldn’t have had the strength to make it through life alive.

So if this is the way he goes out, if Dick is the one that ends it for him–

There’re worse ways to go.

He’s not going to be the Joker’s next victim or Ra’s al Ghul’s heir with a mix of Lazarus Pit crazy. The HIVE, the Light, the mass of aliens he’s fought, any number of Rogue Gallery thugs, none of them will be the ones to take him out.

But this?

His career as Robin started out with Dick Grayson, so maybe...maybe it’s fitting this is the way it all ends. 

He sucks in a breath and finally tilts his head up, looks up into those electric blue eyes, and lets his breath out so so slow.

Because Dick is looking at him with watery eyes, with a grimace, with something Tim can actually recognize.

But those eyes light up in his penthouse perch, take on a supernatural glow, Dick snatching his wrists in bigger hands, pulling Tim closer, the heat getting through layers of Kevlar and Nomex. And just like that, he can’t pull away, can’t pull back.

There’s no way to defend himself when Dick pulls him in, when he expects to get his throat ripped out, his neck snapped, something important crushed, for the darkness to take over and his heart to slow down to a sad, weak pitter patter.

He can’t defend himself when Dick kisses him, opens his mouth, and stuns him into going completely slack.

“I told you,” Dick growls softly when he pulls back, bends enough to get Tim laid out over his shoulder, “I had other plans.”

But Tim can’t reply, can’t do anything other than lay across Dick’s back as the Romani love deamon strides down the hallway and kicks open the bedroom door.

**

And if Tim Drake survives until morning, shocking the hell out of the both of them, staring up at Dick’s surprised face and glowing blue eyes, if the soft touch to his jaw contrasts sharply with the bruises and red marks blossoming all over his body from an intense night with his supernatural mentor and best friend, if Dick doesn’t whisper, “finally, finally, my mate,” before kissing him. 

If the power Dick drains from him doesn’t kill him, doesn’t do more than give him the most amazing span of unending multiple orgasms to ever happen, if Dick isn’t fully satisfied for the first time in his life. If Dick doesn’t call them both off patrol for the next three nights, carts Tim back to his apartment, refuses him clothes and computers and tech, tells the Titans they’re taking a break from crime fighting while Tim is tied and gagged in his bed, sated enough to listen hazily with half-mast eyes. 

If Dick doesn’t hand feed him while he’s getting feeling back in his legs (finally) and give him the full run-down about his parents. If the strange mark on his abdomen doesn’t get warm whenever Dick’s hand is on it, fingers tracing the edges, making those blue, blue eyes dilate in possessiveness. If Tim doesn’t eventually escape with his sanity intact and a little terrified how much his body craves only to have Dick chase after him with single-minded purposes to convince him they’re meant to be.

Then only the man with cameras all over Gotham, waiting and watching with bated breath and fear for his Robins, unmitigated relief when his theory proves true, would be able to give all the details.

[rayshippouuchiha]

Shifty eyes. Here, Ray some more musing on “In Another Life”. Borrow, break, use as you please. (Yes your flailing made me scribble some. Sorry not sorry.)

It’s hard to build a mask back up to withstand his mother’s worry. To behave in ways similar to what he used to be decades ago, so he can carefully shift the mask back towards what he actually is.

(It’s so strange having a mother, going to middle school, the bullies that his mind picks apart like puzzles and could break so easily with a few words, he has to fight the urge to laugh and occasionally the urge to break their bones.)

He’s alone, he’s under armed, and his arms are noodles. The paranoia is softly whispering implications in his head, fanning the dark side of his observations higher, as he scours the internet ever deeper and darker for the history in the Underground for the past thirty years. There’s no mention of him anywhere, his ID number belongs to another (obviously so, he never reached anywhere near being two meters tall) and he’s relieved and horrified. Relieved because there aren’t two of him running around, horrified because he can’t figure out what that quirk did to people, did to him.

(He has too many memories and lingering reflexes for it not to be real somehow. Some of the people based information he knows is slightly off, but the training knowledge he has is accurate.)

Dagoba’s illegal dumping site of a beach seems to be a sad constant. Except worse now than thirty years ago. It’s impressive, in a how the hell did it get this bad and be ignored that long sense. He has a slowly increasing knife collection now though and improvised weights through cleaning; making the paranoia quiet down to whispers and giving him something to do when recollections give him insomnia.

He considers checking on what his friends and peers are doing now, how they’re doing, but there’s a thirty year age gap between them now. It’s too strange. He can’t.

(He looks one night at three in the morning, insomnia kicking his ass. He regrets it. Most are either retired or dead. Some, some never became heroes at all having willingly left the program to be regular students without his encouragement to keep pressing on.)

He watches the grainy footage of Eraserhead he found while building an internet history denoting in fighting and free running with awe. He has very nice form. And despairs because Aizawa-kohai is far too young for him, but his fighting form’s grace and ease of movement across difficult terrain means he likely is enormously strong and that’s attractive as hell. His capture record speaks for itself as to his competence level. (No he shouldn’t be in those databases, but shush.) He can daydream right? He’s a professional it won’t affect his work...

It hits Izuku like a brick that by appearances and the laws of the land that technically he’s the one who is too young for Aizawa. He contemplates his blank ceiling with a frown for a couple minutes after that realization hits. He’s... not sure how he feels about that. Beyond hysterical laughter, but that’s a reaction he’s smothering for a lot of unspoken reasons thank you very much. (Including his reflection. It’s getting a little better with every pound of muscle he puts on, but seeing his face free of lines and his hair having no white at all is so odd.)

(He contemplated how easy it would be to destroy Bakugou’s so called Heroic Career potential last week after a shoulder check and a dismissive snarl of Useless Deku always in the way, stay in the dark corners your betters leave you in. It would be so easy; a pair of broken wrists or too many breaks inflicted on the metacarpal bones, goading into illegal destructive quirk usage in public through innocent sounding yet vicious goading, or force him to self-destruct on UA testing grounds (there are things that make Nedzu instantly disqualify someone from getting into the heroics courses). He has so many options, yet can’t quite bring himself to care over his destructive tendencies much. It’s just a thought exercise he tells himself; he’s pretty sure he’s lying.)

The UA exam is in a week and the beach is now approaching how it was thirty years ago. Disgusting with trash, but there’s no longer mountainous piles upon piles of it. There’s large clearings of sand in-between the much smaller piles of junk now. Izuku’s still not quite sure what to make of his own plans, still a little stunned even after nearly seven months of being “back”. He’s redoing High School, home of hormonal teenagers and their chaos, he’s obviously carried back some of the concussion damage he’s accumulated. He’s mentally old enough to be his soon to be classmates’ parents. Why is he subjecting himself to this nonsense? Oh right, because the Heroics commission is a bag of bastards who’ve make it harder to go through the apprenticeship or independent route unless you have a powerful sponsor, something he definitely doesn’t have. He’s as ready as he can be for an exam that, if this Nedzu is like his Nedzu, has robots in some purpose. The white mammal always did like their machinery and surprises. He’ll have to be ready for anything from rescue simulations, combat, to following the drone. Or if Nedzu had a disappointing last crop of students perhaps all of the above plus a bit more. It’ll be interesting at least.

His self made fact confirming mission of the past thirty years at least made the written exam portion easier. He knows possibly a little too much actually, but at least he won’t fail out. Which is nice. It’s the practical that was a little more difficult than he was expecting it to be. Izuku spotted the hidden conditions sure, but the robots are difficult to take down even with clever tactics. Did last years students coast through or commit willing ignorance and there’s a perceived lack of BFG potential in that grouping? Or is it just the sacrificial one in seven poster year that lets Nedzu pick his preferred qualities the other six years and this showcases the heroics features the Commission wants? He’s not sure. He did pass though. He has the proof in the little turned off hologram disk in the palm of his hand. Eighth. He’s in. He the Quirkless wonder is in 1-A. Ha. Ha. Ha. Choke on it bastards who said he’d never amount to much, he’s gotten into UA twice.

He’s not sure how to rank his first day. On the one hand he has to interact with Bakugou and All Might on a regular basis, on a second hand most of his classmates are sweet kids, and on the third hand Aizawa-kohai is his sensei now. (He’s got to stop thinking about him that way, otherwise it’ll slip and that will result in so much investigation and scrutiny and lack of privacy that it’s easier to dump the habit.) At least it looks like this year will be interesting.

Look no, look, I need this. I want this. I love this. It’s magnificent and I love it.

[mummybear]

Demon From My Nightmares - Part Two

Part One Here

Words: 6354

Warnings: Swearing, Smut, Sinful Amounts Of Dirty Talk, Degradation, Name Calling, Little Bit Of Angst, Restraints (Handcuffs), Edging, Orgasm Denial/Control, Choking, Slight Knife Kink, Angry Demon Dean ;) Yes that’s a warning! Think that’s it! :)

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Sam Winchester, Mentions Of Castiel

Summary: Dean doesn’t take too kindly to you letting Sam and Cas take him back to the bunker. When the two of you are alone he finds a way to show you just how pissed he is.

A/N: This is another square on my @spndeanbingo​ - Demon!Dean.

A massive thank you as always to my incredible beta for everything she does <3 @negans-lucille-tblr

Ko-fi HERE

You hear Sam close your front door behind him downstairs as you throw your duffle bag on top of your messy bed. Throwing in any of your clean clothes and underwear, along with the few pictures in your room. There’s part of you that wonders how you hadn’t realised that you didn’t actually belong here, you barely had anything in the house. How long would Sam and Cas have left you here if Dean hadn’t found you? Would they have expected you to wait until your memories came back on their own? How was it that your now demon ex boyfriend still cared about you more than two people you considered to be your best friends?

There was so much going through your mind as you finally tugged the zipper of your duffle closed. You knew you were probably being an idiot going back to the bunker to help Dean, but you couldn’t leave him. Not like that. The way he’d made you feel just twenty minutes ago…  he may be a demon, but you knew your Dean was still in there somewhere.

The ache between your thighs is still fresh and you can’t deny that you want more, you’d missed him so much. The way his hands had felt on your body, his lips against yours. That perfectly husky voice in your ear as he fucked you within an inch of your life. He always knew just what you needed. Then, of course, you miss everything after the sex, the way he’d pull you close and kiss the top of your head, soft touches of his fingers over your back until you fell asleep. His stupid jokes and a sense of humour which you’d always admired with everything he had been though. You needed to get him back, that fiercely loyal and protective brave man, the one that you loved heart, body and soul. 

You scold yourself as you leave your bedroom and head down the stairs, because you can’t stop thinking about how hot you find this version of him, no matter how dangerous he is and despite yourself, you want him to own you and make you beg for him.

Locking your front door, you head over to where Sam has the Impala parked on the side of the road, engine running while he waits for you. You take a deep breath before you pull the car door open, that familiar smell hitting you like a tonne of bricks. You may not have remembered earlier today, but now you couldn’t forget the way he smelled. Clearing your throat, you finally climb into the car and close the door behind you. 

As Sam starts driving you can’t help but be angry at him and Cas for the way they had handled this situation. Part of you is thankful that they caught him, but the bigger part of you is pissed as hell that they sidelined you so they could get to him, put you at risk without even talking to you, or giving you your own say. Surely they knew that you would say yes to anything that could’ve helped Dean, right?

“So are you just gonna ignore me until we get back to the bunker, Y/N?” Sam asks with a sigh, looking between you and the road. 

Rolling your eyes you finally turn to look at him, “Sam are you kidding me? You actually expect me to be okay with what you two did to me?” You ask incredulously, resisting the urge to throw your hands in the air from utter frustration.

You quickly see the guilty look that crosses Sam’s face as he shifts awkwardly in his seat. 

“Y/N, listen-” he tries, but you cut him off with a shake of your head.

“Don’t, Sam. You had so much time where you could’ve told me what was going on, I would’ve helped! You know that I’d do anything for Dean. What would you and Cas have done if Dean killed me?” You ask turning to look at him, he glances between you and the road and frowns as he runs a hand through his long hair. 

“Dean wouldn’t do that,” Sam tries to reason.

“No, you’re right. Your big brother and the man I love wouldn’t even consider hurting us. But this Dean is a demon, Sam, we’re just ants in his playground. You’re lucky things worked out the way they did, if he gets away from Cas or out of those chains you’ve got him locked up in at the bunker, then we’re all dead,” you tell him honestly and you can practically hear Sam swallow beside you. You know the reason he doesn’t reply is because he knows you’re right.

You turn away and shake your head, leaning against the cool window as Sam continues to drive.

You don’t know when you fell asleep but you had to have at some point, as Sam is currently shaking you awake. 

“Y/N, we’re home,” he tells you gently.

You sit up and stretch out your body, yawning as you wipe at your eyes.

“Okay, I’m up.” 

“Look, I am sorry. I understand if you never want to talk to me again, but I mean it and I’ve really missed you,” Sam tells you sadly, those damn puppy eyes making an appearance again.

You sigh loudly and finally look at him, “look, I’m pissed at you, both of you. But I’m not gonna disown you over it, Sammy. Just promise me, you’ll talk to me next time.” 

Sam smiles slightly giving you a small nod, “I promise.”

-

Dean’s inhumanly loud and animalistic growls had been filling the bunker for hours now, but he’d finally fallen quiet twenty minutes ago. Part of you knows you should stay in your room and wait for Sam and Cas to do what they need to. Then there’s the other part of you that wants to go and see him, you need to make sure he’s as okay as he can be. The ache between your thighs reminds you of how he’d made you feel, maybe he is still your Dean deep down. He had all of his memories at least, from what you could tell. Sure, maybe he felt his feelings in a different way, but the way he’d touched you, the way he’d made you feel was indescribable.

With your mind made up you slip off of your bed and out of your room, staying light on your feet, not wanting Sam or Cas to hear you. You knew they’d only stop you. Turning the corner quickly you find the door you know Dean is behind and to your surprise it opens without needing to be unlocked.

You step inside the darkened room and you swear you can feel his presence already.

“You just couldn’t stay away, could you sweetheart?” Comes the deep timber of his voice in the darkness. You swallow hard, taking another step into the room, your thighs squeezing together as a reflex of hearing his voice.

Another step and you’re standing by the light on the table, and you quickly flick it on. Your knees almost buckle beneath you at the sight of him tightly tied down to a chair, you can see how angry he is, it’s written all over his face. But there’s also a flicker of what you believe is amusement at seeing you standing in front of him. 

You stay silent as you walk those few extra steps closer, your feet staying just outside the devils trap. Safe to say you never thought you’d see Dean Winchester trapped in one of these things. 

You glance over at the empty syringes of blood that are scattered across the table by the lamp, his fingers are clenched into fists and you watch as he roughly tugs at the rope binding his wrists. The chair moves against the floor a little the more he struggles, and you can’t stop yourself from flinching. You look away from him and down at the floor when his sinister chuckle bounces off of the walls.

“Aww baby, what’s up? You ain’t scared of little ol’ me are you?” His voice is condescending to the say the least, when you look back up at him there’s a devilish smirk on his plump lips and his eyes flash black.

“N-No, I’m fine.” Your blatant lie and shaking voice is met with another laugh.

“Why don’t you come over here? I’ve got plenty more that I wanted to do with that fucking sexy body of yours.” It sounds like a threat and a promise as it rolls flawlessly off of his talented tongue. One which you’re more than aware he can fully live up to, and completely surpass, if you gave him the opportunity.

“I’m not an idiot Dean, you’ll just use me to get out. Believe me, the second you’re back to being the real you, you won’t need to ask twice.” 

He licks his full lips and leans forward in his seat, flashing you those pearly whites. He locks eyes with you as they flick from black back to the green ones you know and love.

“Really? So you’re tellin’ me that you don’t want me to fuck you like I did earlier? You’re gonna pretend you don’t crave being my dirty little slut? We both know you do, remember how you begged for my cock? Well, after this little stunt, sweetheart, you’re gonna have to beg a lot harder for it.” There’s a growl in his voice, and you can feel your panties getting wet from his words alone.

You just about manage to swallow around the lump in your throat. You watch him grin widely when you take another step closer, finally breaching the outer circle of the devils trap. Honestly, you don’t know what you’re thinking, other than that you would do anything to please him, anything to get him to make you feel the way you did earlier and this is what he wants, so you’re gonna give it to him. 

When you take another step forward Dean growls low in his throat and tugs harder at the ropes that bind him to the chair. You walk the last step towards him and he’s leaning so far forward in his chair, that you're surprised the ropes haven’t snapped yet. You tug at the hem of Dean’s flannel shirt that you’re wearing, very aware that what you’re doing is stupid.

“I shouldn’t be here. Sam said-” Your breathy words are stopped when Dean growls at the mention of his brothers name.

“I don’t give a fuck what Sam said. You’re mine. It’s about damn time you started remembering who you belong to. Now fuckin’ take that off.” Dean snaps, nodding at the plaid shirt you're still playing with.

Chewing at your bottom lip you finally meet his eyes again, “Dean I don’t think-” you practically stutter.

“No. You don’t think. You do as you’re fucking told, like the good little slut you are. Now, take it off.” His voice is practically a snarl at this point and leaves no room for argument, his eyes have gone black and his mouth is set in such a way that makes your stomach tight.

With shaking fingers, you reach up and start undoing the buttons. Watching as his eyes slowly return to green, he pulls his plump bottom lip between his teeth and you can see the grin just beneath. He’s watching you so intently that you make sure to take it slowly.

When the material falls to the floor, Dean groans. The bra you’re wearing is tighter and smaller than usual since your others are in the wash and it pushes your breasts together firmly. You step between his legs, a nervous smile on your lips when he looks up at you with a look that makes your knees weak.

“Look at you. My perfect little slut. You better untie me, you’ve got a lot of making up to do.” 

His voice is like a demand,but you know you can’t listen, that’s the one thing that would mean you’d never get your Dean back and you can’t allow that.

“I….I can’t Dean.” You practically whisper, feeling his knees close around your thighs when you try and back away.

“You wanna try that again?” Dean practically seethes, his hands clenched into fists against the arms of the chair.

You can actually feel your legs shaking now, from fear as well as the arousal you’d been plagued with since you’d left the house you’d called home.

“No Dean. I can’t, I’m sorry,” you whisper, trying to get free of the grip of his legs, “I should go to bed.”

When you turn away and finally free yourself, a loud crash fills the room and a hand wraps tightly and harshly around your wrist, effectively cutting off the scream with complete shock.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Dean spits angrily, pulling you forwards so roughly that you collide with his chest. 

You look up at home with wide eyes and your heart almost stops in your chest.

“H-How did you get out of that?” you ask quietly, tugging your arm free of his hold and stumbling out of the devils trap away from him.

Dean’s smirk is dangerous and you're frozen as he makes his way towards you, stopping at the very edge of the devils trap. Suddenly you’re very aware that you’re standing in front of him in only your underwear. 

“I think you know how, sweetheart.” His voice is low and husky and you visibly shiver as it causes goosebumps to rise across your exposed skin. 

“You’re about to get what you deserve, and this time no touching for you.” He’s grinning as he pulls out some cuffs from behind his back. He nods over towards the hook in the corner of the room and you gasp when he steps forward again, out of the devils trap and he forces you back until you collide with the wall behind you.

His entire body is pressed against yours, trapping you between the solid wall of muscle that is Dean and the solid brick wall behind you.

“Dean, please, can’t we wait until you’re better?” You try and reason, whimpering loudly when he presses harder against you and you can feel his hard cock pressed between you. The tip of his nose traces the line of your jaw up to your ear, breath ghosting along your skin.

“I fucking love how I am baby girl, never been better. If we’re being honest, my needy little slut, you love it too, don’t ya? You like me a little twisted. Just the right amount of fucked up to deal with you, ain’t that right?” he asks hotly, fingers moving over the damp patch on your panties. 

Your head falls back against the wall, but the only thing moving is his fingers, pulling harsh breath after breath from your lips. He has you so distracted that you don’t feel the cold metal lock around your wrists until the last second. 

Dean pulls you, stumbling over to the door when you both hear footsteps coming from the distance. The door is cold against your heated skin and your cheek is pressed tightly to it as the footsteps stop.

“Y/N? Are you in there? Is everything okay?” Sam calls suddenly, twisting the door handle but Dean grips it tightly and it stops moving. 

“Lock it. Tell him everything is fine,” Dean demands quietly, smirking against your neck when you suck in a breath, before his teeth drag over your pulse point and he wraps your hair around his fist and tugs harshly.

You just about manage to nod your head with the grip he has on your hair. “Yeah Sam, I’m fine. Dean and I just needed to talk,” You tell him as you lock the door, trying to keep the shake out of your voice.

“Okay, well I was just about to head out for some supplies, are you sure everything’s okay?” Sam asks as Dean pushes his hand into the front of your panties. His fingers drag back and forth teasingly through your slick heat. Your nails dig into your thighs as you try to keep the cuffs still, so Sam doesn’t get suspicious. 

“Yes, everything’s fine. You go, I’ll be fine,” you reply a little shortly, biting your bottom lip hard and almost drawing blood when Dean pushes two fingers inside of you easily. His chuckle vibrates against your neck, and you barely hear Sam’s reply as you snap back at Dean.

“Fuck you, you twisted demon dick.” 

His fingers are gone immediately and you slump against the door, “Oh baby, you know I love it when you talk dirty to me.” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he roughly pulls you away from the door by your hair and turns you to face him. You squeal in surprise when he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, your arms getting trapped beneath you. Before you know what’s happening, Dean lowers you to the floor and pulls your arms above your head, securing the cuffs to the hook hanging from the ceiling.

You lift your chin from your chest and meet his eyes. Those cold, dark black eyes that fill you with a sense of dred and nervous excitement but most of all there’s that overwhelming sense of pure and unadulterated lust.

“Dean, come on, you know I had nothing to do with any of this. I just wanted you back, the real you.” 

You watch that smirk stretch across his perfect pink lips and you have to clamp your thighs together. His aftershave surrounds you when he steps closer, his breath fanning across your parted lips.

“Now baby, I thought we’d already spoken about this. This is the real me, the best me.” There’s a pause as he takes another step closer and lets his calloused fingers slowly drag down the length of your stomach, until the tips are sliding back and forth over the hem of your panties.

“Besides, do you really think I don’t know how much you crave me like this, that’s why you came in here tonight wasn’t it sweetheart?” he sounds so cocky, so sure of himself but your stomach is too busy rolling with arousal.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you’re voice isn’t as certain as you’d hoped it would sound, you sound nervous to say the least.

“Deny it all you want. It doesn’t matter. You’re gonna be begging for my cock when I’m done with you. Just like you did the last time. So desperate and needy,” Dean tells you quietly, letting his lips brush yours ever so slightly. You feel your breathing increase when you lean in and try and kiss him, but he pulls away just far enough so you can’t reach him, although his hand remains just above your panties. 

“You’re gonna have to work for it my little slut.” You whimper loudly, feeling the tip of a knife slip beneath the side of your panties, just barely digging into your skin, but the threat is enough to make more arousal flood the already wet fabric. 

Dean’s free hand grips your jaw tightly when you try to look at the floor and he kicks your feet apart with his booted foot. The blade is cold against your heated skin but he doesn’t move, his grip on your jaw tight as he meets your eyes again. 

“Dean, please. Just take the rest of your cure and we can do whatever you want all night.” You beg him through clenched teeth, wincing when his grip tightens.

“Why would I do that, hmm? I can already do what I want all night,” he chuckles gently tugging the knife through the side of your panties easily. “Who are you kidding here sweetheart? You fucking love being treated like a demons little fuck toy. You need it, don’t you?” he whispers the last part, voice husky and daring. As he drags the blade of the knife up your other thigh, not digging in enough to make a mark, hooking into the only remaining side of your panties and giving a rough tug. They drop to the floor and you can’t help but moan as the cool air in the room moves between your legs, making your throbbing clit tingle at the change of temperature.

“Look at you, such a fucking wet mess.” Dean laughs, letting go of your jaw, leaving behind an ache which manages to ground you slightly.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper feeling the blade just barely digging into your stomach as he slides it up over your soft skin. Keeping his plump bottom lip trapped between his teeth, as he makes quick work of cutting your bra from your body, letting it fall to the floor, a satisfied noise leaving his now parted lips at seeing you naked again.

The knife clatters to the floor and you quickly look up meeting his green eyes, full of lust and desire and it makes your heart jump in your chest.

“What is it baby girl? I didn’t think you wanted me, like this.” He all but purrs, standing impossibly close his fingers trail slowly down your stomach and between your legs. You whine his name as his fingers move through your slick, circling your clit gently before dipping back down and he slowly slides those same fingers inside your tight wet heat. His lips are pressed against your ear as your walls clamp around his fingers and he moans deeply, starting a slow deep rhythm that has you wishing your thighs would stop shaking, because your arms are already aching with the effort of keeping yourself up right.

“Such a tight wet little cunt, fucking perfect. Clearly I didn’t fuck you hard enough earlier. Is that what you want my little slut? You want it harder, faster, deeper? Want me to make you come until it hurts sweetheart?” Dean growls deeply, picking up the speed of his fingers until he feels you clamping down around them and he pulls them away.

You gasp for breath as your legs collapse beneath you and the orgasm slowly starts to drain away. “What the hell Dean?” You pant in irritation.

Dean laughs, circling your body until he’s standing behind you. “Like I said, you’re gonna fucking earn it.”

“Oh fuck you, Dean!” You spit out angrily. 

“You’ve got such a dirty mouth on you. I guess we’ll see how long you can keep that up tonight, I can’t wait to see just how long it takes for you to break.” 

-

You don’t know how long has passed or how many times Dean had brought you right to the edge of orgasm before stepping away, looking more and more pleased with himself each and every time. You were panting heavily, your entire body aches and feels weak, the pulsing between your legs has become painful. You’re so desperate for release and he knows it, but your voice is hoarse from your pleas for release. But he’d simply chuckled and sucked his fingers clean and he watched you huff in annoyance as the orgasm faded.

Your entire body is practically vibrating when he steps towards you again, even his breath against your skin makes you whimper in desperation. He stays close to you, still completely clothed, you can feel the slight brush of that damn red shirt against your skin as he circles you.

“Dean, please I’m sorry. You’re right, I need you, I don’t give a fuck if you’re a demon. I need you to make me come, please, I’ll do anything.” You beg him, unashamed and even more desperate than any of the other times previously, feeling the tears pressing against the backs of your eyes. 

Dean stops in front of you, eyes black and tongue pressing against his sharp canine and a smirk curling the corners of his perfect lips. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart, what was that? I didn’t hear you.” Dean mocks you, as the green fades back into his eyes you don’t miss the sparkle in his eyes, he’s enjoying this far too much.

A tear rolls down your cheek but you’re so frustrated you don’t even pay it any attention. You know he wants you begging for his cock, he loves to see how desperate you are for him, especially this depraved version of him.

“Please fuck me Dean, I need your big cock. Please, I’ll do anything you want,” you plead desperately, clinging to the chains that are wrapped around your cuffs.

You let out a shaky sigh of relief, hearing the tell tale sounds of his belt buckle clanging open. When he steps in close and pulls you down from the hook you fall against his chest, barely any strength to hold yourself up at that moment. Dean holds you up by your upper arms before you can fall, and for the first time in what your sure has been at least an hour, you feel his plump lips pressing against yours and you can’t help but moan against them. It doesn’t last nearly long enough though, he’s soon pulling away and pushing you down onto your knees.

He unlocks the cuffs and pulls your arms behind your back, he’s eerily silent, but you don’t care - whatever he wants he can have. You hear them click back into place and watch as he walks back in front of you again, that delicious smirk on his lips.

You look up at him with big, almost innocent eyes, biting your bottom lip when you watch him pull that perfect thick cock from his boxers and push his jeans down his thick legs. You swallow hard and lick your lips, watching as he strokes it back and forth, unable to stop the roll of your hips trying to find friction anywhere you can.

“Look at you,” Dean purrs, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip. “Such an obedient little slut all of a sudden, such a good little girl. You wanna suck my cock baby?” 

You whine at how sexy his voice sounds, every word he speaks sends you further into a place where only he exists. He almost sounds like the old Dean towards the end and you just want to please him. When you stay quiet, Dean bends down, so that his nose brushes against yours briefly, and you have to hold back the moan bubbling up in your throat.

“I really wanna suck your big cock Dean, please.” 

“Of course you do, baby. I bet you’re making a right fucking mess all over the floor right now. Just from thinkin’ about choking on my cock, I bet you could come just from that right now, couldn’t you?” He chuckles knowingly watching you swallow hard when he backs off, back to towering over you. 

“Yes, Dean,” you answer obediently, feeling the throbbing between your legs intensifying in anticipation.

Dean runs the angry red tip of his swollen cock over your parted lips, grunting quietly when your tongue gently laps at the pre-cum leaking from the tip. Pushing into your mouth quickly and gripping your jaw tightly, he takes you by surprise when the head of his cock nudges at the back of your throat, and you can’t help but gag a little. 

“You might wanna relax or this is gonna hurt.” Dean chuckles, pulling out slightly before thrusting his hips forward again. You try to breathe through your nose better than before, but find yourself gagging just as harshly, your throat tightening around the intrusion. 

“Surely you remember that though, a good little slut like you must remember,” Dean growls deeply.

You look up at him with tears starting to leak from your eyes, watching as he unlocks his phone a devilish smirk on those perfect lips and he aims the camera at you. He licks his lips and you see him tap the screen. Tossing the phone somewhere close by he grips the hair at the top of your head. Your nails dig into your palms, your jaw is aching from the grip Dean has on you as he starts to pick up a faster speed, practically fucking your face. The drool leaks from the corners of your sore lips, everything hurts in the best way as he uses your mouth for his pleasure. Every time you gag, Dean thrusts that much harder the next time. Your chin, chest and thighs are soaked from the spit leaking from your mouth as his grip tightens on your hair and your jaw. He’s right though, because even choking on his cock has you close to the edge. Dean pulls himself free of your lips with a growl when your eyes start to roll,and you just about manage to choke out his name, wanting to warn him, so that you don’t come without his permission, you didn’t need another reason to piss him off more.

His hand drops from your face but his grip remains just as tight on your hair. 

“Guess I was right, hmm? Almost came all over the floor, just like the desperate little slut that you are,” Dean taunts,  knowingly.

Hauling you up onto your shaking legs with the grip he has on your hair, you fall against him with little to no balance. You melt against him as his lips roughly claim yours once more and you can feel him backing you up, until a table hits the back of your legs whilst his tongue continues to intertwine with yours perfectly. 

His mouth is suddenly gone from yours all too soon, and you whimper at the loss as he turns you quickly in his hold and slams you down onto the table you’d bumped into. You wince at the forcefulness behind it, the cold wood makes your nipples painfully hard, and you wish you could grip onto the table edges for support when Dean kicks your feet apart. The cold air on your soaked and exposed pussy makes you shiver, and you moan loudly, finally feeling his thickness slide through your dripping folds. 

“I need your cock, please. I can’t take any more teasing Dean, please.” Your voice comes out hoarse and breathy. 

A harsh slap comes down on your ass cheek and you whimper his name loudly, gritting your teeth hard as another slap comes down on the opposite cheek, just as hard as the first. A loud growl echoes around the room as Dean thrusts into you in one rough thrust, and you cry out in surprise, unable to grip the table like you want to as it screeches across the floor.

“Such a tight little cunt,” Dean groans, gripping your ass cheeks in his hands and squeezing them tightly, as he pulls them apart, and you can feel his eyes on you.

He withdraws his thickness from you slowly, so that you feel every glorious inch. 

“Oh fuck! Yes Dean!” You scream, as he slams back inside you hard and fast, the pleasure and pain blurring the lines. With every snap of his hips, Dean starts to pick up a steady pace, which has the table continuing to screech across the floor, the sound mixing with Dean’s pleasured grunts and your whimpering and moaning. 

“Can I come Dean? Please, please. I can’t hold it anymore.” 

The harder you beg, the faster his movements get, he releases his grip on your ass, one hand gripping the chain joining your cuffs together, the other gripping your hip bruisingly. The clap of your ass as it bounces against his hips joins the filthy sounds in the room.

“Fuck, you dirty little slut, come on then, come all over my cock. But you better fuckin’ scream for me,” Dean grunts,moving the hand that was on your hip to between your legs, rubbing your clit with the perfect amount of pressure. 

You gasp for breath, a faint squeak of Dean’s name passes your lips as your orgasm hits and your eyes roll, white completely fills your vision, but Dean’s pace doesn’t falter. Not even when you soak the floor beneath you, the wet noise of your pussy gripping his cock is like nothing you’d ever heard, and it only turns you on even more.

Dean doesn’t give you time to come down from one of the most intense orgasms of your life, before you know it you’re being pulled back against his clothed chest and he wraps his hand around your throat, squeezing tightly. His lips press against your ear and he growls deep in his throat.

“I’ve got a fuckin’ good mind to make you clean that mess up with your tongue. But you’d probably just enjoy it, wouldn’t you, huh?” Dean asks, chuckling to himself. You can only bring yourself to moan out louder when he drags his teeth across the sensitive spot just under your ear.

You can feel Dean’s blunt nails digging into the side of your neck.

Suddenly the door almost comes flying off the hinges. Dean stills behind you but doesn’t seem surprised, like he knew it was coming, it's like you can feel him smirking as he pulls his lips away from your neck.

Sam stands in the doorway panting hard, clearly he'd been trying to get in for a while. But you hadn't heard a single thing.

"Can we help you with something, Sammy? Or are you just here to play the peeping Tom?" Dean asks, that condescending tone thick in his voice.

"Dean what the hell are you doing?" Sam asks angrily, his eyes flicking between you and his brother.

"Y/N, are you okay?" 

"I'm giving this little slut what she wants, ain't that right, sweetheart?" Dean asks, snapping his hips forward harshly and making you scream. "Fucking answer me, don't be rude in front of my brother," Dean demands, with another snap of his hips he pulls a whimper from your lips, but you can still hear the laughter in his voice.

"I'm great, Sam. Can you go? We're kinda busy here," You mutter under your heavy breathing.

Sam ignores you and looks at his brother. 

"Then why is she cuffed?" Sam questions and you bite your lip as Dean turns you to face him with a harsh grip on your jaw, his hips moving every time he speaks.

"Because she's a kinky little bitch. Likes it when I fucking ruin her and she can’t get away - wants it, over and over again. She was begging for my cock, little brother, you should've heard her, so desperate, just wanted me to fucking own her." You can't help but smile as Dean looks right at you when he's talking, though there's a blush rising in your cheeks. 

Sam is trying to focus anywhere that isn't on the two of you.

"Take them off, then Sam can go and we can finish. I promise I won't move Dean, I'll be a good girl," you purr quietly against his lips.

Dean smirks and tugs your bottom lip between his teeth. Bending down he grabs the key from his jeans pocket, you whimper as he stands again and his cock slips fully back inside you. Undoing the cuffs they quickly fall to the floor, Sam looks at the two of you, surprised to see you haven't even tried to move. Chest still rising and falling quickly, as you look into Dean's black eyes.

"Now could you kindly fuck off, I’ve got business to finish, Sammy."

The door slams shut and Sam doesn't even bother replying.

"Look who's learning. Such a good little slut for me," Dean groans as your pussy flutters around his cock.

"Guess you earned yourself a treat, you get to choose where I come. You want it all over that pretty little face, or do you want it deep inside you, leaking out of this perfect little cunt for the next few days?" Dean asks huskily, starting to pick up his thrusts again, the sounds echoing off the walls.

"Wherever you want baby, use me." You moan, feeling his hand wrap tightly in your hair as he tugs hard. 

"That's my girl. Just how I wanted you, all mine. Finally broke you, just fucking beautiful." He praises you with a chuckle, fucking into your tight wet heat like it's the last thing he'll ever do. 

The air feels like it's been stolen from your lungs as he uses your body to get himself off. But whatever he's doing, whatever he's saying is working for you in the best way.

"Gonna….come," you manage to choke out.

"Do. It. Fuck! Do. It!" Dean growls each word followed by a particularly hard thrust that hits your sweet spot repeatedly.

You can't manage to utter a single word this time as you fall apart, in fact you completely black out.

You wake up with a warm comfortable bed beneath your sore and tired naked body. You jolt up when you hear him scream again. You jump out of bed on shaking legs and wrap your robe around yourself.

Running down the hall to where you know he should be. You walk into the room without even thinking, just in time to see Dean strapped to another chair, he looks up, right at you and you watch as the black fades from his eyes and he blinks hard. When they open again he's still looking at you, but with those beautiful green eyes, with only a look in them the real Dean ever had, the human Dean.

"Dean? Are you okay?" You ask in shock, ignoring all eyes on you except his.

He looks a little off, but he nods regardless.

"Yeah, I’m okay. It's me. The real me," he confirms shakily. You sigh with relief, and you try to ignore that tiny pit in your chest. You were happy he was cured though, because you loved him so much more when he was human.

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[victoria-daydreams]

Of Vices and Virtues

Chapter Six: Training Day

AN: Happy Black History Month! What better way to start this month than updating a black fanfic, which reminds me to say go support other black fanfic writers on Tumblr. And do yourself a favor and read up on figures other than MLK Jr. and Rosa Parks.

Trigger Warnings: none

Word Count: 3.0k

Taglist: @azayamari​

Chapter Seven: Specialty

We were in the library, it was a huge room with an open interior, lined with walls of books and several nooks to sit and read in. Charles and Erik wanted to explore my empathic abilities further. I picked at the loose strand of my shirt remembering the disgust on my face about the plain attire I'm wearing. I lifted my head, my eyes meeting Erik's and we began to play a game, pointing out the ostentatious items in the room with our eyes. A bronze lion head. Awards from Charles' ancestors. Ridiculous looking portraits. An antique cigar box.

"Do you know the extent of your empathic abilities Claudia?" Charles asked curiously, sitting across from me in a sofa chair, ending our game.

I turned my attention to him, "No Charles, people do not volunteer to see the extent of my powers. Being able to manipulate emotions tends to unnerves people," I quipped, smiling.

"I'm surprised, I thought that's what you do regardless of how people feel," Erik stated, peering out the library window.

"Erik," I gasped mockingly, and put my hand on my chest as if I was offended. "Your lack of faith in me, wounds me," I finished jokingly.

Erik snickered before turning around and walking to where Charles and I were sitting, "What do you know that you can do?" he questioned, as he lowered himself into the chair next to Charles'.

"Sense, feel and understand emotions, feelings, hopes, dreams, desires, and fears of others," I listed simply, shrugging my shoulders. "I can create illusions also. So, as you can tell manipulation is my specialty," I answered, spreading my hands out in front of me.

"Do you mind if you show me?" Charles asked curiously.

"You're joking right?" I chuckled in disbelief, arching my brow at him. "When I get inside people's head like that, the illusion can seem so...vivid," I warned, sitting comfortably in my seat.

"I can take it," Charles assured, adjusting himself in his seat.

"Well, it's your funeral, Charles," I joked, as I closed my eyes and allowed myself to relax and shortly after he does the same.

I reopened my eyes and looked at Charles, as soon as his grip tightens on the armrest I knew the illusion was in full effect. I watched my illusion through Charles' mind. He had to blink a couple of times before realizing that his sister, Raven, was lying deadly still on the floor. A puddle of wine red blood was forming around her and all he could do was stare. He could even smell the metallic stench of her blood as the life left her body. He tried yelling, moving, even using his mind to call out to her, but it didn't work.

"Charles," I called, trying to rouse him from my illusion. "Are you alright?"

"Charles," Erik called, and firmly put his hand on Charles' shoulder which seemed to break him of the trance.

"Pardon me?" he asked confused as he shook off his daze, realizing he was back in his seat.

"Claudia was asking how do you feel?" Erik repeated what I had just asked.

I was intently staring at Charles to see if he was paralyzed in shock or fear. Or maybe both.

"Oh...well that was quite the...skill. It's both incredible and terrifying that the images were so-" Charles began.

"Real? Vivid? Seems impossible to have been fake," I offered softly.

Charles met my eyes and nodded softly as I began to pick apart his emotions. He had never felt so vulnerable and useless until my illusion and he hoped he never had to feel that again.

"Well now my curiosity piqued," Erik stated, smirking a little. "Your illusions, they're that powerful?" he  questioned, looking at me intently.

A proud smirk appeared on my face and I leaned forward, "I could have the strongest man on Earth cowering in terror in a matter of seconds once I discover his greatest fear," I confessed, grinning widely. My eyes moved over to Charles, and found that he was already staring at me and looked to be in deep thought. He had a slight frown on his face and had been strangely quiet. "Charles, are you sure your alright?" I asked, concern lining my face.

"I'm fine really, I was just thinking, that's all," Charles explained, flashing a quick smile. "We've seen your capabilities with your empathic powers, how about your telekinesis?" Charles asked, placing his hands on his knees and pushing himself up from the chair.

A smiled beamed from my face once again, "Well, I'm glad you asked," I began, standing up from my own seat and clapping my hands together. "I'm going to need two mannequins for this demonstration," I instructed, before walking out of the library. "And come outside, it's too beautiful of a day to be stuffed up in the mansion," I called over my shoulder, as I left.

I opened the front door to the mansion and it was a lot warmer than it was this morning and I relished in the feeling of sunlight on my skin, small joys and all of that. The land around Charles's family home was even bigger than I thought. No matter which way I looked it seemed endless. I spotted a stone bench and I made my towards it, hearing the gravel crunch under my feet.

I sat down on the warm bench and closed my eyes basking in the warmth of the sun. The sound of footsteps behind me cause me to look over my shoulder to see Erik and Charles both carrying a mannequin. They both set them down from about twenty feet away from me and I stood up from the bench, shaking my arms out as I did to prepare them for what I was going to do.

Erik and Charles took their places beside me, I closed my eyes and concentrated until I felt a familiar sensation in my hands. I opened my eyes, my hands were surrounded by purple energy.

"And now boys," I began, lifting my hand up and one of the mannequin's floated off the ground, enveloped in a purple energy. "For my next trick," I continued, my eyes never leaving my target, with a pulse of telekinetic energy I crushed it my grip and it fell to the ground in a heap. I turned my sights on the second mannequin, this time lifting both my hands as the same purple energy encasing the limbs. I push my hands away from each other, ripping the mannequin apart and the limbs dropping to lawn. "Ta da," I sang, dropping my hands and glancing between Erik and Charles.

"That's incredible! Claudia, your control is amazing!" Charles commented happily.

"That all I can do for now, I'm a bit tired. But as you can see, I'm pretty adept with my telekinesis, and with your help..." I trailed off, looking between Charles and Erik.

"There's no telling how powerful you will become," Erik finishing my statement, with an excited grin.

"Why do you sound more excited than I am, Erik?" I questioned, with a smile.

Erik let out a short laugh before turning to face me, "Because with your abilities the possibilities are endless," he answered, a smirk on his lips.

~~~x~~~

"What are we doing in here?" I asked surveying my surroundings. The small, personal gym had the typical equipment you expected to find. At the front, were some weight benches with the bar resting above it. Behind the benches at the far end of the room held two punching bags, some sparring gear, and some free weights. "I've already did my fair share of lifting weights today," I complained, looking back at Erik.

After my awkward encounter with Raven and Hank I finally forced myself to work out. It hurt. A lot. To say my upper body strength needed improvement was an understatement.

Erik smirked, "We may have powers, but it's still very useful to know the art of hand to hand combat," he explained, as he placed a safety mat on the floor beckoning me over.

I nodded understanding why this was needed, attempting to improve my general hand to hand combat without the use of my powers would always be useful. There would be times when I possibly wouldn't be able rely on my abilities immediately and I would need to stall before being able to use my powers against an enemy.

"First thing you're going to learn is a basic punch," Erik began, grabbing my hand and balling it into a fist. "You not only need to know how to punch, but where to punch," he continued, lifting my fist to his forehead. "You aim too high, you'll hit their forehead which is the equivalent of hitting a brick wall," Erik explained, lowering my fist too his jaw. "Hit too low, you'll get their chin, also not recommended," he said, moving my fist to a higher place on his face. "The best place to punch is there nose or eyes that's where they'll be most vulnerable," Erik finished, releasing my fist.

"Where did you learn all this?" I asked curiously, letting my hand fall to my side.

"I was forced to teach myself how to fight, it was the only way I could survive..." he trailed off, with a faraway look before he suddenly lunged for me, tackling me to the ground being careful enough not to actually injure me.

"Hey! What the hell Erik!" I exclaimed, sitting up on my arms. "I wasn't ready!" I complained, before blowing a piece of hair out of my face.

"Rule number one, always be ready," Erik responded neutrally, but I could have sworn that the corner of his lips tugged upwards slightly into the hint of a smirk. "Did I mention places like the neck or the shin are also sensitive to impact. You should try it," he added cockily.

I glared at him, "You're such an asshole," I commented, as I got up and took a boxers stance.

Erik put his forearms up in front of his face and got into a defensive stance. I threw my first punch and I thought it was solid. I had a good arm on myself, apparently Erik felt otherwise.

"Come on Claudia, I've seen a sack of potato's hit harder!" he taunted obnoxiously. "Aren't you the same woman, who threatened to break a man's hand in seven different places," Erik reminded with mischievous eyes.

I quickly struck out at his neck hitting his jugular causing him to choke on his saliva, he lifted his hand to his throat, coughing hard as he rubbed it soothingly. I felt satisfied when he looked momentarily surprised at the force I'd used.

"Is that better?" I questioned mockingly, my lips curling upwards.

"That'll teach him for insulting and underestimating me," I thought.

Erik rubbed his throat one last time, "Claudia, that was not very ladylike," he finally commented, taking a while longer to reply.

"Lucky I'm a mutant then," I retorted, a smirk still on my face.

Immediately, I swung out my left hand attempting strike harder. I went to punch his abdomen, but he caught my hand and I drew back my foot kicking him in the shin. Erik caught a hold of both of my upper arms. My leg flew out to deliver another kick but he released my right arm just in time to catch my foot.

He tugged at my foot causing me to topple over onto the mat, he followed, dropping onto the mat into a position where he trapped my body with his own. I laid flat on my back on the mat staring up at Erik who had me pinned down with his legs that were on both sides of my thighs and his arms planted on the mat, level with my head. Staring up at him, I felt heat crawling up my neck and spreading to my cheeks as I became extremely self-aware of the position we were in.

And now being this close to Erik it made me realize that his mesmerizing irises actually had a bit of gray in them. Those stormy blue gray eyes stared down at me with such an intensity that a shiver ran up my spine. But yet I couldn't look away; his captivating gaze was somewhat beautiful, in a terrifying way. His eyes held mine much like the eyes of cat held those of a mouse. And like a mouse, I didn't move.

I felt the most peculiar sensation run through me, it felt as if my whole body was aflame. We stayed like that for half a second longer than necessary, stuck in our own world until the sound of Moira and Charles talking from afar brought us back into reality causing Erik to jump up and away from me before quickly pulling himself to his feet.

"Not bad for your first day," Erik began, clearing his throat as a way to clear the awkward tension that fell between us. Erik offered me his hand, I accepted his hand allowing him to help me upright. "But there's definitely numerous areas to improve on," Erik continued, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, and momentarily avoided my eye contact. "You are nowhere near intimidating or threatening as you think you are," Erik jested, facing me again with a shit eating grin on his face.

"You're insufferable, Lehnsherr,"

~~~x~~~

I stood in the doorway, half in the library and half in the hall outside watching him. Charles was sitting before the fireplace, an old novel resting in his lap as he read. The sunset sunlight brightened the room from the window behind his chair, and the sound of the other mutants' conversation from the dining room could be heard from somewhere down the hall. It didn't look like he wasn't really paying attention to the words on the page in front of him, but rather skimmed the familiar text absentmindedly while his thoughts wandered elsewhere.

I rapped quietly on the door frame and Charles glanced up, closing the book at the same time. He gave me a small smile and I made my way into the room and sat next to him on the sofa, offering a smile in return.

"I must thank you for your help today Claudia," Charles stated, placing his book down next to him. "Not a good first day, the results we had got today have been less than spectacular, but your help was greatly appreciated,"

"Is that so?" I questioned, lifting my feet from the floor and onto Charles' lap. "I really didn't do much," I reminded, with my arm resting on the back of the sofa.

Charles looked down at my feet and then back up to look at me, a smile on his face from my action and I merely shrugged returning his grin. What can I say, those shoes made my feet hurt. Charles slowly removed my flats one at a time and placed them on the wooden floor with a light thud, his hands slowly massaging my feet and I flexed my toes out.

"Nonsense. You being there for moral support was a big help today. Especially with Alex," Charles explained, moving his thumbs up and the soles of my foot, which felt heavenly and I let my eyes flutter close. "And me," Charles added quietly.

My eyes widened slightly, "Really?" I began, tilting my head. "I would've never guess that from you Charles. You always seem so cool, calm, collected. Not to mention perfect," I stated smiling, just as Charles pressed circles above my heel and I tried not to let out the moan that was threatening to come out.

"Well, no one's perfect Claudia," Charles commented, massaging my left foot now. "My confidence was a bit shaken after Alex's training, but after hearing and listening to your reassuring words...you took away the fear that I have about failing these kids," Charles explained looking up at me, his face illuminated by his million dollar smile.

His hands moved upwards slowly running both thumbs over the center of the sole of my foot.

"Speaking of fear..." I trailed off and Charles brought his eyes back to mine. "I make you uncomfortable," It is not a question, it is a statement. It's ironic that I should make a telepath uncomfortable, since our powers are uncannily similar.

Charles' hands faltered over my foot, "That's absurd, Claudia," he lied, but I can feel it in him, the roiling discomfort, the wish to get away from someone who can take and see and judge his worst memories with just a glance in his eyes. "I merely wish to help you hone your empathy," he reasoned.

"Did I forget to mention I can tell when a person is lying," I mused, causing Charles' hands to falter again. "It wasn't my place, but I wanted to know how you were doing after my illusion," I disclosed, and his hands stopped moving. "I left you feeling vulnerable, and I feel awful about it. I feel awful that I make you uncomfortable and I'm sorry," I apologized, gazing at Charles momentarily before looking away and pushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

Charles pulled my legs, dragging me closer to him and I let out a yelp at the sudden movement. Turning my head to him I noticed our proximity to each other, we were intimately close.

"I will admit that your illusion earlier today unnerved me, but I'm not uncomfortable around you, just the opposite actually," Charles clarified, as he cupped my face. "I am the most comfortable when I am in your presence, Claudia," he confessed, before leaning down and pressing his warm lips to my forehead.

Chapter Eight: Fun & Games

[alittleimagine]

sam wilson x reader

note- i can’t think of a good title for this. if you think of one hit me up and i will change it.

The little bell over the door signaled as Sam entered the shop. A young cashier to his left greeted him absently while she packed books into a shopping bag and he gave a perfunctory nod while he scanned the store. 

He was looking for books. Just books. Books were his only reason for having come to the store and he was not being a creep who kept coming to gawk at the pretty bookstore employee who’d helped him two months ago. That was absolutely not the case. 

He was pretty good at convincing himself that was the case until her head popped up over a shelf a few rows back. Her back was turned to him and she was busy adjusting a decorative holiday sign, but he would have recognized her anywhere. 

Sam smiled to himself before turning to the right and heading for the coffee shop instead. He was here for books, after all, and coffee.

Coffee was exactly what he needed after being out in the bitter cold of New York in December. It never got this cold in DC, he thought. He took another sip while he watched the back of her head bob over the shelf and smiled.

She was humming along to the Christmas song playing quietly over the store radio, standing on the top step of a little step ladder so she could reach all the way over to the screws keeping the sign in place, and she didn’t notice him as he approached. 

“I would have thought you’d be sick of this music by now.”

She gave a little start on the stool and on instinct he held an arm out to steady her if she needed it, but she never wavered. Her smile nearly knocked him right out.

“Sam!” She said, looking genuinely pleased to see him. “Did you finish the book already?”

To be honest, Sam had come to the store two months ago to get a book specifically to annoy Bucky. He hadn’t expected that the prettiest girl he’d ever seen would ask him if he needed any help and then make pleasant conversation while they looked for the specific book. He hadn’t fully planned on coming back two days later either- he’d just been in the neighborhood.

He had gone out of his way to come back eight more times after that. 

Sam hadn’t done a lot of recreational reading in the past few years, but he took her every suggestion and devoured it, eager to come back and tell her about it. 

His last visit had only been two days ago and he’d spent the majority of those days in Italy. 

“Um, no. Not yet.” He smiled up at her. “I just stopped in to see if I could knock a few Christmas gifts off my list.”

If not for her he probably wouldn’t have thought to get books for anyone. 

Her smile grew somehow. “Do you have any in mind?” The sign forgotten, she climbed the two steps back onto ground level and he was once again looking down at her instead of the other way around. The smile didn’t waver when he shook his head. 

“Okay. So we’ll go person by person? You said your friend liked art.” 

She’d remembered what he’d said about Steve. Of course she had. She always remembered everything they talked about. 

As they walked to the far corner of the store she asked him additional questions, like she always did, so she could narrow down his search. If only she’d known that she could have picked the first book she found and he still would have bought it. Sam was going to be personally responsible for keeping brick and mortar bookstores in business. 

The whole while they talked an annoying little voice kept telling him to just ask her out. Invite her out for coffee, or dinner, or the rest of his life. He pushed the urge down. He would not be the guy who asked a girl out at her work- he was not going to be a creep.

By the time he’d left the store, Sam had bought at least one book for everyone on his list.

*~*~*~*

Sam groaned. It had snowed every day for the past week and the forecast had said today was going to be their one reprieve. So much for that. 

He tightened his scarf around his neck and pulled his knit cap lower over his ears. It got cold in DC, it snowed too, but he would swear up and down that it was a different kind of cold and so much harsher. 

It only took a moment- a brief glance at the sky to see how long the snow would keep up- for  him to step on a slick patch of ice and go down taking someone with him. 

“Oh!” 

He recognized the voice from just the exclamation, but he still felt surprised when he pushed up on his elbows and looked down at her shocked expression under him. 

“Y/N?” 

“Sam?”

Her hands were pressed against his chest to keep him supported, her bright red coat half knocked off her shoulder, and she blinked up at him in surprise (or maybe a concussion because he’d barrelled into her like a damn rhino). He stayed sprawled over her on that street corner for half a minute before he came to his senses. 

He cursed. “I’m so sorry. Here, I’ve got you.” He scrambled to his feet, careful to keep away from the same icy patch that felled him last time. With just one tug on her outstretched arm he pulled her to her feet. 

Sam wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her when her own foot slipped on the ice and she gave a little jerk. “You alright?”

When she nodded Sam pulled back, hoping his hesitation wasn’t as obvious as it felt.

After pulling her coat back up over her shoulder and adjusting her purse strap she reached up to touch the back of her head. 

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention- didn’t mean to tackle you.” He leaned to look at the spot she was tending to. 

“Well, I certainly hope not. I can’t imagine what I’ve recommended to earn a tackle.” Even as she rubbed the spot back and forth she smiled at him. 

“How bad is it?” He asked when he could see nothing more than her gloved hand in her hair. 

She shrugged. “I think I’ll live. But, if I do die, then I guess I can say I was taken out by an Avenger.” Her smile was impish.

He was a little surprised. She had never mentioned or done anything to imply that she knew who he was, but then he guessed that might have been because she was trying to do her job and keep things about books. 

She dusted the snow off the back of her coat and pants, then reached over to his shoulder to do the same. Her hair was flecked with bits of snow and she had a little amused smile while she joked about the ice. 

“Go out with me!” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself and he grimaced when she gave a little jump at his volume. “I mean-” he ran a gloved hand down his face, “I mean, would you like to go out with me? Get a coffee or lunch or-”

“Yes.” 

Sam stared. He hadn’t actually expected her to say yes. “What?”

“Yes. We should have lunch, do something.” She faltered. “You did just ask me out, right?”

“Yes. Yes.” He nodded, enthusiastically. 

The smile was back, brilliant and blinding and hitting him like a punch to the gut. “Would you want to go now? Get out of the snow?”

The snow had, in fact, started falling harder, quickly blanketing the ground around them and settling back on their shoulders. Sam hadn’t even felt it. 

“Yeah. Let’s go get lunch.” He said. He straightened his shoulders and gathered himself properly. He’d been waiting for this chance, he wasn’t going to blow it. He held out his arm and she linked hers through it before stepping close to his side. 

It might as well have been July for as much as he felt the cold. 

“You know,” she said as they started down the street, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out for like a month.”

He squawked. “I was trying not to be a creep!”

She laughed at him.

[iselsis]

Off the Streets

Summary: Omega Jason Todd needs to get some food and go to ground quickly, before his heat hits. This plan is destroyed by Batman and his habit of impulse adopting children the way some people impulse buy gum at the cash register.

“Get back here, you thief!” the clerk hollered after him.

Jason, not an idiot, did not go back there, or even stop to pick up one of the bags of food he dropped. The clerk wouldn’t go far from the corner store, or he’d have more than just one kid grabbing some packaged food and sprinting, so all Jason needed to outdistance the beta to get away scot free.

His rush of pride was quickly squashed by reality, and the flickers of pain that had started in his stomach and promised a heat, soon. Without a calendar, he’d been forced to guess when most his heats were, and heats for younger kids like him could be inconsistent anyways. The first signs of heat had only just shown themselves, warning him to get food and hide quickly.

Food, down, he thought to himself, rather smugly. The beta hadn’t even been a challenge to outrun. He’d even snagged two water bottles and shoved them in the pocket of his hoodie, which was more foresight than he’d had the last time he’d gone into heat. It had been one of the nice working girls had found him and taken pity on him that had kept him from crawling out of his nest on day three to track down some water.

Jason ducked into an alley that he knew even the bravest of store clerks wasn’t stupid enough to enter a dark alley at night. You might run into strangers.

And speaking of strangers, Jason slammed directly into a wall of concrete. Jason stumbled back, rubbing his sore nose in confusion. There had not been a brick wall there when he’d been casing the joint that afternoon, but apparently one had conjured itself up.

“You have something that doesn’t belong to you,” the brick wall commented in a deep, gravelly voice.

Jason looked up – and kept looking up – until his eyes saw the yellow and black bat symbol, and the pointy black bat ears above them.

Oh, hell no. Jason spun on his heel and made a break for it, but Batman collared him immediately and yanked him back.

“Let me go! Let go!” Jason dropped his hard won food and desperately clawed at the gauntlet holding his hoodie. He’d go hungry if he had to. It would suck hard, but he couldn’t let Batman arrest him and throw him at the GCPD right before he went into heat. He’d be lucky to come out alive.

It was useless, though. Batman was probably three times his size, and wearing armored gloves. It took Jason a minute to accept that, and that he was just wasting energy he’d need to live through the beating he was in for and stop fighting.

Batman waited a few more moments after he’d stopped struggling, like he was waiting to see if Jason was really done.

Once he was satisfied, he gave Jason a small shake and jerk his head at the mess that Jason had dropped. “Pick those up.”

Jason scowled fiercely at him, but knelt slowly, Batman’s hand following his hood, and started feeling around for the food without breaking eye contact. His stomach made a loud growl at the sight of all the pretty food, all packaged up and ready to eat….it had been a couple days since he’d last found more than a few scraps. He hadn’t been able to find a job, or anything easy to steal until the food, and now he had to get away and bunker down for his heat. Without the food, that meant that it would have been at least a week before he got to eat again.

Batman might have mercy if he behaved, though.

“Here,” he grumbled, standing up and holding out the armful of food to Batman. “Now let me go.”

Batman didn’t move to take it, which was damn rude. Instead, he stared down at him for several seconds, his head tilted in a calculating pose. “Why did you take that food?”

“That’s a stupid question,” Jason snapped before he remembered the he needed Batman to like him if he wanted to beat the clock and get back to his cozy little nest of rags and shredded pieces of cardboard. He deflated somewhat and looked to the ground to hide his flushing cheeks. “I’m hungry.”

“And your parents won’t feed you?”

“Does it look like I ha-” Jason started sarcastically, then cut himself off and muttered in a less hostile tone, “No. They’re dead.”

His mom was, at least. She’d wasted away from the drugs until there was so little that even her tricks didn’t want her anymore, until she couldn’t talk or do more than stare vacantly at the ceiling, and until she finally stopped breathing on their couch. It still hurt, thinking about her, even though it had been a whole year. The blanket he’d pulled from her nest and stuffed into his backpack before he ran now smelled of him and of Gotham’s underbelly, instead of the sunshine and honey that she’d smelled like before – before she’d gotten sick. He missed her so much.

His dad was in jail. Probably. Didn’t really matter one way or another, because Jason wasn’t going anywhere near him anyway.

“I see,” Batman said quietly.

Jason dared a quick glance up, then froze. Batman looked…sympathetic. Like he actually understood. It just looked wrong on the Unholy Terror of the Night. He was going to die. He had broken Batman, and the universe, or Batman’s fists, was going to demand vengeance.

“Who takes care of you?” Batman asked him, kneeling down to be closer to Jason’s height, but still keeping a hold on his hoodie.

Jason swallowed hard and tried not to look intimidated. Even down low, the alpha was huge. “I do. Can I go now?”

Batman frowned. “Why aren’t you in foster care?”

Jason fixed him with an incredulous glare. It was a bit more daring that he should have been giving out when he wanted to get on Batman’s good side, but seriously, wasn’t Batman supposed to be some great detective? The foster system was in the hands of the mobs, and even if it wasn’t, and they were in some other city that wasn’t like Gotham, omega pups weren’t safe in foster homes.

“’s not exactly safe for people like me,” Jason muttered. He was normally good about keeping his scent covered, but with his heat approaching, everything was out of whack. There was no way that Batman hadn’t noticed what he was.

Batman nodded and stood up. “Come with me.”

Jason’s eyes widened and he tried to back away, but he couldn’t get far. “Where are you taking me?”

Batman started walking toward the mouth of the alley and gave Jason’s hood a slight tug. “You’re going to return what you stole. I’ll deal with you after that.”

And then he’d give Jason a firm talk on why stealing was bad, and Jason would pretend to be thoroughly repentant and be up and at it again as soon as his heat was done? Batman nodded because he understood that Jason wasn’t safe in foster care, right? So he wouldn’t try to put Jason in there? Or maybe he was just going to beat the hell out of him for stealing, like he did to every other thief he’d met. He’d seen what Batman gave his dad for stealing, and his dad had been an adult alpha with friends. A packless omega pup would be lucky to survive Batman’s wrath. If he did survive, then he was going to be broken, immobile, starving, and in heat a mile from the safety of his nest in the middle of Crime Alley.

Jason’s legs felt like lead as he trailed after Batman. He knew that he needed to hurry, get whatever was coming out of the way so he could get back to his nest, away from any alphas who could smell him, but he didn’t want to fork over the food he had stolen, and he didn’t want to get beaten.

The clerk was scowling when they walked into the store, an expression which quickly changed to shock, and then to smug satisfaction when he realized what was going on. Batman released his hood and gave him a nudge toward the counter. Jason scowled and shuffled up to it.

He tightened his hands around his ill-gotten goods one last time before he opened his hands reluctantly and dumped it all on the counter.

“Here’s your dumb shit,” he grumbled.

The beta growled in smug triumph. “Looks like the little thief met the big bad bat. He beat the shit out of you yet?”

Jason scowled at him and stormed back to Batman, but his heart was pounding wildly in his chest. “There, I gave it back. Can I go now?”

Batman put a hand around Jason’s upper arm and led him out of the store. He said nothing as he pulled Jason in a new direction. Jason focused on deep breaths. Panic might make his heat come quicker, but the clerk’s question rang in his ear: he beat the shit out of you yet? Batman understood why he wouldn’t go to foster care, probably understood that meant the cops too. He still had to be punished, though. Jason shuddered and tried half-heartedly to pull away.

“Please let me go,” Jason begged quietly. “Please, I’ll be good. I won’t steal again, I promise.”

Batman looked down at him, but didn’t loosen his grip. “I’m not going to hurt you. Calm down.”

Jason’s heart sank. The no was bad enough, but expected. Was Batman trying to lull him into a false sense of security? He’d thought that only the Rogues were freaks, but now he realized that the guy dressed as a vigilante bat probably should be in Arkham too. Jason struggled a little harder, but he hadn’t eaten in two days, and even if he had, he was no match for the giant alpha.

“Please, please let em go,” he tried. “I learned my lesson, okay? Please!”

Batman stopped and grabbed Jason’s other arm, forcing Jason to face him. Jason flinched hard, but no blow fell.

“I’m not mad at you. I know that you were just trying to survive,” Batman promised, his voice losing a slight edge on the gravel, but he was still scentless, and his face was covered, and with his body so close to Jason’s, he couldn’t tell if the man was telling the truth. Why would he be telling the truth, though, and where was he taking Jason if he was?

“If you’re not mad, then can’t I go?” Jason whimpered helplessly.

Batman sighed and shook his head. “You aren’t safe on the streets. You need to come with me.”

With that, Batman stood up and tugged Jason suddenly into an alley. Jason had to bite his lip hard to hold back the terrified scream – it would only make Batman angrier, and angry people hurt more. He was going to be beaten, no matter what lies Batman was telling him.

What was this place, Batman’s favorite alley for beating up stupid kids? He’d been pretty purposeful about coming to this place, so there must have been something.

Then he saw it – a glint of light on metal. The shell of a car.

He was an idiot. A damn idiot. Batman wasn’t going to beat him up, Jason was a starving, packless omega pup on the brink of heat who no one would miss.

Batman was going to rape him.

Jason suddenly threw all his energy in trying to break free of Batman’s grip, hoping to take him by surprise, but Batman just picked him up and carried him over to the car despite his protests.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Batman repeated, grunting a little as a well placed elbow jabbed into his ribs. “I’m not angry with you for stealing. You’re about to go into heat, and you need to be off the streets now.”

“No, please, let me go!” Jason begged him, clinging to the cape as Batman opened the door and tried to put Jason inside. “Please, I’m fine on my own, you don’t have to do this, please!”

Batman unclipped his cape when he couldn’t get Jason’s fingers off it, and tossed it in on top of Jason, then closed the door behind him. Jason made a half-hearted attempt at the door handle. It was locked, of course. He wasn’t going to be able to escape his punishment so easily. Tears welled in his eyes, and another, vicious cramp sent them spilling onto his cheeks. He felt the first flicker of heat start in his stomach, and knew that he had maybe an hour before that tiny spark had consumed his whole body. If he was lucky, Batman would be done with him by then, or at the very least, drop him off outside the abandoned building he’d taken shelter in when he was. More likely, Batman would keep him for his entire heat under the guise of protecting him.

The driver’s door opened, he could hear Batman climbing inside, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at the man. His breath hitched and his entire body flinched at another cramp. He buried his face in his knees and groaned.

“Is your heat starting?” Batman asked, his voice losing even more of its gravel. “I can help you with that.”

Jason flinched. Batman’s voice was becoming less and less disguised, and there was no way he was going anywhere once he’d hear the man’s real voice.

What did he tell Batman? When alphas offered to help omegas with their heats, it only ever meant one thing. But that was going to happen anyway, and maybe he could hurry it all up and get it finished so Batman would let him go. Earn some good will by being a compliant little bitch.

Jason nodded miserably.

He didn’t look up, but he could hear Batman opening and rummaging through the center console for something. That protection he kept talking about, probably. The kind that came in foil wrappers.

There was a small rattling noise, painfully familiar, that had Jason looking up in confusion.

Batman was holding a small white bottle and checking the label on it.

“How old are you?” Well, that came out of nowhere.

“Twelve,” he answered without even meaning to. It must have been the randomness of that question shocking him.

Batman grunted. “You’re supposed to take two pills, then.”

Jason watched in stunned silence as Batman uncapped the jar, shook out two white pills, and held them out toward Jason. It was almost in a daze that he reached up and took the pills from Batman’s hand, and the water bottle that he was passed a moment later. That was…not what he’d expected.

Unless Batman was trying to drug him.

“What are these?” Jason asked suspiciously.

“They’re just Tylenol. Would you like to see the bottle?” Batman told him, more patiently than Jason would have expected.

Jason hesitated, not sure if it was a trap, then nodded. Batman calmly handed over the small plastic bottle in his hand, and Jason snatched it and read the ingredients, directions, and warnings three times before he had concluded that yeah, that was…actually probably just a painkiller.

Jason cautiously took the pills with a swig of water and a sideways glance at Batman to watch his reaction, but there was no crow of victory, no smug smirk at Jason for having drugged himself. Just a painkiller, for real, then.

“Buckle up,” Batman instructed, slipping the key into the ignition and bringing the car to a purr.

Panic tightened Jason’s throat, and the scent of it was immediately thick in the car, mixed with a cloyingly sweet omega heat scent. His breaths were fast and shallow, and he found himself clenching his eyes tight shut again.

“Where are we going?” Jason cut a glance to Batman. Scentless, unreadable Batman.

Batman paused, frowning slightly at Jason’s reaction. “I’m taking you to my home.”

Jason couldn’t breathe, and his eyes welled with fresh tears. No wonder Batman was giving him the medicine; he wasn’t being kind to a random orphan he was gonna fuck once and abandon, he was providing for his future mate.

“Can’t we just do it here and get it over with?” Jason pleaded. He’d never be able to escape from Batman’s headquarters, wherever that was, and he was sure by the offering of the medicine that Batman was in for the long haul. If he went with Batman, he was going to die a slave to a hero, probably fairly young.

Batman tilted his head slightly as he fixed Jason with a stare. “Do what here?”

Jason flinched and his cheeks flushed bright red. Batman was going to make him spell it out? His heart hammered, and he turned begging eyes on Batman. “Please, I won’t fight you, but only once. I’ll do just what you want me to do, I won’t struggle at all, but please do it here, and let me go when we’re done. I-” His mother, coming home late at night or not at all, covered in bruises and bitemarks that she hadn’t been before. His mother, not even recognizing him because the drugs her pimp had her on were so strong and kept he more firmly under the beta’s control than shackles ever could. His mother, scared that she might be pregnant with the child of an alpha she didn’t know, only to lose the baby and get even worse than before. “Please, I don’t want to be a whore.”

Batman’s jaw dropped, and he actually, physically recoiled from Jason at the suggestion. “I’m not- I-“

Batman’s grovel was entirely gone, and he couldn’t seem to find the words for how revolting he found whatever it is he was mad about. Was it that Jason had asked him to let him go after a light demonstration of courting? Jason’s eyes stung fiercely.

“I didn’t bring you here to rape you,” Batman said firmly at last, still not in his Batman voice. Jason was definitely never, ever leaving. It wasn’t going to be rape, it was going to be mating while Jason was in heat, and that didn’t even count in courts that weren’t in Gotham.

Jason tucked his face against the window and let the tears fall. There was no one but Batman to see, and Batman had singled him out probably because he could already tell how weak Jason was.

Batman sighed. “What’s your name, son?”

Jason sniffed and muttered thickly, “What’s it matter?”

“I want to know what you like to be called so I can call you that,” Batman told him.

Jason didn’t want to give him his name, but he also realized that he was probably never going to see a single other person ever. He didn’t want to lose the name his mother gave him, or use some sort of fake name for the rest of his life.

“Jason,” he whispered.

Batman sighed again. “Alright, Jason. I’m not going to hurt you. That includes any kind of sexual touching. Adults touching kids that way is very wrong, even when it’s an omega in heat. Not everyone believes the same way, though, so you have to get off the streets before your heat gets any worse. I’m not trying to keep you forever, just until your heat is finished. Then we can figure out where you want to stay. Does that sound good to you?”

It sounded good. It sounded so good. For a moment, hope sprang up, burning with painful, wonderous brilliance, but then it flickered out and died.

“Everyone’s seen what you put Robin in! I’m not an idiot!” Jason snapped at him.

“Robin designed his outfit by himself. I didn’t particularly like the lack of pants either, but the design was sentimental to him and I allowed it. I did not ever touch him sexually, and you’re welcome to ask him about that yourself when you meet him,” Batman said, then started to pull the car out of the alley like the conversation was done. If he was done talking, then it was. Batman held all the power in their relationship.

“I’m meeting Robin, then,” Jason drawled, trying to hide the wobbliness in his voice as they travelled at breakneck speed down the streets. It had never been proven, but a lot of people thought that Robin was an alpha too. “You usually invite friends over for this kind of thing?”

Batman had the nerve to give a long suffering sigh. Asshole. “If Robin comes by the house, then you’ll meet him, but he isn’t going to touch you either. Jason, you’re safe. I promise.”

Safety and promises. Jason snorted bitterly. He’d stopped believing in fairytales a long time ago.

[stxrrywildflower]

lost

pairing - emily prentiss x reader

summary - emily returns after doyle, you and spencer don’t take it well

warnings - cursing, mentions of suicide, talks about mental health, drug use

word count - ?

note - sections of this regarding the language may be extreme so please take that into consideration before reading

you and spencer walked into the bau together, each sporting a coffee cup in hand.

after emily’s death, the two of you found comfort in each other. you knew about reid’s abandonment issues and he was well aware of your’s and emily’s relationship. everyone on the team did. morgan did a fairly good job at hiding his emotions. but you and spencer, you two broke.

hotch had noticed the signs of you first. you had a history of depression and anxiety dating back into your teen years. after her death, you began to slip back into a depressive state. you lasted two weeks before, without argument, he placed you under temporary leave and sent you to a mental facility for you to ‘get better’.

spencer was next. after confiding in morgan about his dilaudid cravings, it was then alerted to hotch also. just like you, spencer was placed on temporary leave and set to the same facility as you.

inside, your communication with other patients was limited. you and spencer, however, got to see each other all the time, resulting in your now closeness. two months in, both of you returned to the bau. slowly, you returned back to doing field work. but, you relied on spencer and he did the same to pull you through. you felt like you were finally getting better, like you were back with a sense of normality.

that was, until the current day at the bau managed to reverse all of that.

the first thing you noticed was hotch and j.j. in the conference room. that already wasn’t a good sign. “new case?” you asked spencer who then shrugged, “probably.” rossi stepped into the conference room next, before motioning for the rest of the team to join.

you quickly dropped your bag and coffee off at your desk before following spencer up the stairs into the conference room.

“alright everyone have a seat,” hotch spoke as he crossed your arms.

“why? what’s going on?” morgan responded.

you didn’t follow hotch’s orders. a lot of trust had crumbled and fallen away after he had put you on leave with little remorse. instead, you leaned against one of the file cabinets, spencer finding a spot next to you.

“seven months ago i made a decision that affected this team,” hotch started. you instantly tensed up at his words. seven months ago, you had all lost emily. alas, he continued, “as you all know, emily had lost a lot of blood as a result of her fight with doyle. but the doctors were able to stabilize and airlift her from boston to bethesda under covert exportation. her identity was strictly need-to-know and she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. she was reassigned to paris where she had access to several identities, none of which we had access to for her security.”

those words hit you like a brick. your throat felt dry and your hands started to shake. you turned to spencer who looked like he was experiencing a similar reaction.

“she’s alive?” garcia asked. morgan’s eyes darted frantically between garcia and hotch. “but we burried her,” spencer surprisingly spoke up from beside you. his voice was extremely shaky and you weren’t sure if he could even finish his sentence.

“as i said i take full responsibility for the decision. if anyone has any issues, they should be directed towards me,” hotch tesponded.

you wanted to say something, you really did. but no words came out of your mouth. instead, morgan decided to talk. “any issues? yeah i got issues!” he shouted. just as he went to continue, you heard footsteps from down the catwalk.

just then, emily appeared, bag in hand, a sorrowful look on her face. you felt like you were going to pass out.

you turned towards j.j. who seemed to be smiling, no shocked emotions displayed. that only meant one thing. “you knew?” you spoke, moved from your position against the filing cabinet. j.j. started to speak, most likely an apology, but you cut her off.

“don’t,” you said as you pinched the bridge of your nose.

emily was now standing beside hotch and j.j. “y/n,” she spoke, taking a slight step towards you. you, instead, took one step back, itching closer to spencer, who was having a hard time taking this all in.

“you let me, you let us mourn her for seven months and you knew the entire time? you sent us away hotch!” you yelled, motioning towards spencer.

“sent them away? what do you mean?” emily asked.

instead of hotch responding, most likely giving a shitty answer, you stepped in. “he sent me and spencer away to some stupid fucking mental facility to ‘get better’. barely any contact to the outside for two months. how do you really think that helped hotch? how do you think being locked in a room for two months really did for our mental health,” you asked. hot tears slowly welling up in your eyes.

“i’m sor-” emily started to apologize.

“you’re sorry? i was so close to shooting myself up again and instead of actually getting the support from others, i get sent away. do you realize how much it sucks to be abandoned your whole life and then the one group of people that keeps you sane leaves you too? i got to talk to maybe four people at the hospital. and besides y/n, none of them were any of you. i can forgive garcia, morgan, and rossi, but j.j.? you really name me as your sons godfather and you can’t even tell me the truth half of the fucking time,” reid revealed. the room went quiet, obviously shocked at the young genius’s outburst.

“before you say another word that your sorry or that you didn’t know how much this affected us, just know that for weeks, i sat in my apartment, not sure what to do. do you know how many times i wanted to take my razor and slit my wrists, just to end it. or the advil, i always kept. everytime i took two for a headache, i always considered just taking the entire bottle. because, what did i even have to live for at that point. and then with barely any sympathy, hotch forces us to leave, not wanting to deal with our issues. we were finally getting better. we were finally able to be back on the job and continue living our lives. but now, you just saunter in here expecting forgiveness,” you seethed.

anger began to rise in you. you made fists out of your hands, no doubt causing slight bleeding from your fingernails as your knuckles turned white. upon seeing emily’s saddened facial expression, that made you even more mad. you needed to let out your anger or else you knew you probably wouldn’t be able to recover. after a few more moments of complete silence, you rolled your eyes, pressing your lips together as you walked out of the conference room, spencer right behind you.

you quickly grabbed your bag, leaving your paperwork on your desk before glancing over to the conference room. morgan and garcia were just exiting, tears falling freely down their faces. the remaining team members remained in the room, each with defeated expression.

you turned to spencer. “let’s go,” you whispered. anything above that and your voice was sure to crack. both of you decided that you needed to be alone for awhile. so, you dropped spencer off at his apartment with a small smile that you could barely muster and you drove to yours.

once entering, you tossed your bag carelessly on the table, your badge alongside it. your gun remained carefully placed on the side table.

you placed your back against the door. you held back the first sob, but after that, you couldn’t contain it. tears flowed down your face as you sobbed loudly. you felt betrayed, the trust between you and hotch was already fragile and now with j.j., you weren’t even sure who you could trust. you mainly felt angry.

the only thing you could think to do was punch your wall. your hand went though the drywall, leaving a large hole in its place. surprisingly, your hand was barely injured from the punch, just a cut across the top of it.

just as you moved towards the kitchen to grab wrap to bandage your hand, your mind was only filled with one though; emily. you loved her. you knew you were going to love her for the rest of your life. and then that had been ripped away from you.

you cried harder, tears falling onto your now bandaged hand.

you shuffled into your room, quickly changing into sweatpants and a t-shirt. you collapsed onto your bed, pulling the blankets over you and a pillow closer to your chest. it wasn’t the first time that you cried yourself to sleep.

emily knocked on your apartment door only a half an hour later. hotch had allowed everyone to go home, as the day had been a bit shocking. emily, however, grabbed her bag and drove to your apartment.

after no response, emily took out a set of keys, praying that you hadn’t change the lock. after rotating the key, a satisfying click echoed. she let out a sigh of relief before turning the handle.

your apartment was drastically different than the last time she was in it. the once darker colored walls were now painted soft tans and pastels. there were a lot more plants than there had been. more artwork and pictures scattered the walls. ‘very few are of the team,’ she noted. your voice brought her out of her thoughts.

“spencer helped me redecorate,” you spoke, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed.

emily spun around and remained frozen in place. “it looks great, i really like the hole in the wall,” she first joked. “you two closer than before?” she asked, mentally smacking herself for asking such a dumb question.

“you’d be surprised how close people come when you lose a person you both love, whether it’s romantically or family,” was all you said. “would you like something to drink?” you offered.

emily slightly nodded, “maybe a cup of tea? thank you.” you grabbed a mug, filling it up with hot water before handing her the cup with a tea packet. emily watched as you moved though the kitchen, grabbing the different stuff to make a pot of coffee.

the tension in the room was almost unbearable.

finally, you finished making your coffee and placed it on the counter, milk and sugar already added. you then opened the cabinet and reached to grab the bottle of advil. you had a killer headache and needed to take something. out of the corner of your eye, you noticed emily tense up.

“relax, i’m not going to overdose,” you spoke calmly.

your words made made emily visible flinch. the fact that you were so casual about talking about killing yourself scared her immensely. 

you moved out of the kitchen and sat on the couch, motioning for her to do the same. the two of you sat at opposite ends, each sipping your drink as silence fell over you.

“you don’t deserve this,” emily spoke, breaking the tense silence.

you sat up slightly, looking over at the woman but kept your mouth shut.

“you really don’t deserve what i did to you. none of the team does. but i need you to know, that i really has no choice. if i didn’t do what i did, doyle would have gone after all of you,” emily revealed. “wouldn’t have mattered, i honestly probably would have been dead already. probably spencer too, i mean you heard him. he almost took dilaudid again.”

“but you stopped him.”

you chuckled slightly. “not really. just got sent to a mental hospital against my will with reid to recover. so, wasn’t really my choice. it’s really fucked up that he almost relapsed over something that wasn’t even true.”

“i’m really sorry for that. if you want i will go talk to hotch about his actions,” emily offered but you shook your head. “it’s over now. only bringing it up because i have to.”

“i know i have a lot of trust to earn back from everyone. and i fully intend on heading over to everyone’s apartments to apologize to them after you. but it’s been almost eight months since i’ve been with you. all i want is a hug, as stupid as that sounds. you don’t have to but-” emily was cut off when you wrapped your arms around her.

the two do you fell back into the couch. your buried your head in the crook of her neck as her arms moved so they were around your waist. you shut your eyes to prevent the inevitable tears from leaking out. her perfume filled you senses. it was the same one she always wore. you had never realized until now how much you loved the smell of it.

she looked and acted slightly different, but she was your emily.

“i should probably get going. i really need to talk to reid,” emily spoke as she let go of you and stood up. you crossed your arms again and nodded at her. “i’m really sorry again. i know it’s going to take some time to regain your and the teams trust again but i promise, i will make it up to you.”

with that, emily grabbed her bag and made her way over to the door. you shot her one final weak smile before disappeared from your apartment and made her way down the hallway.

[lankygeralt]

Patreon Reward for Y N (link in bio)

Mega shoutout to my beta @geraskier-hell​ <3 and to @choulatte​ for helping me figure out the ending!

The universe really wasn’t on his side, Jaskier thought. Maybe Geralt had been right, he really did always find himself in the most ridiculous circumstances. This time around, he was on his knees, back pressed against a brick wall with his hands tied in front of his chest, in a dungeon deep below the actual village. 

He had traveled to Mariakerke on the premise of capturing the little creature that had been pestering Geralt’s existence to no end. He didn’t know what he was up against, all he knew was that the creature was fond of music. Thinking that had been a sign, Jaskier had taken it upon himself to lure the little minx into a bag and deliver it to Geralt himself. Instead, he had been the one to be captured.

The villagers hadn’t been exactly fond of his musings, and he had apparently caught more attention than what he had presumed. The glint in their eyes when they had realized he indeed was the bard who sang about the white wolf of Rivia, had been beyond stomach-turning. The hunger, the famine for gold had hit Jaskier harder than the tree branch they had swung his way. 

The moonlight dimly illuminated the cell they had thrown him in, and the wound on his chin stung as he went to lick his awfully dry lips. He had to think of a plan, a way out. For as far as he could see, there were two ways out of this shithole. Through the bars at the top of the cell, or through the actual cell door. 

Could he take on a guard? Maybe. Could he take on two or more guards? As much as his pride liked to tell him he could easily overpower them, he had to admit that they would beat the ever-living crap out of him if he as much as dared to make a run for it. Besides, why on earth would they untie his wrists? Bollocks. 

He peeked up at the small opening at the top right. A cat could probably fit through that small gap, not a bard, Jaskier thought in frustration. On top of that, his knees had started to ache and his head began pounding once he heard loud footsteps echoing through the dark corridors. 

“Julian Alfred Pankratz,” a deep voice croaked, sounding as if he had been smoking for years on end. “You found yourself in quite the tricky situation, didn’t you?”

Jaskier huffed, shoulders shrugging, not being able to stop his mouth from running. “It will give me enough inspiration for at least three entire ballads.”

He heard the man choke out a laugh before he started coughing. Filthy, Jaskier thought, scrunching up his nose in disgust. He didn’t even have to see the pig’s face to know he looked like the lowest scum that roamed the lands. Unkept beard, missing teeth, sour stench around him, he probably had it all. 

It was easier to focus on the sad excuse of a human being in front of him than on the miserable situation he was in. Plus, Jaskier was aware he was known for being a blabbermouth, annoying certain folk to no end. If he could get under the skin of this pig, he could potentially worm his way out of this. After talking the man’s ear off for what felt like an hour, finally, Jaskier heard a set of keys jingle and the iron door creek. Now was the time to take action, he just had to find an opening to kick the piece of filth in the nuts.

The man stepped in the ray of moonlight, he looked exactly like Jaskier had imagined, and the pig almost doubled over when another coughing fit began. Disgusting.

“Do you ever-”

“Keep that up,” Jaskier said, rolling his eyes for effect.

“Shut up, or I’ll-” The man wheezed, cough starting to sound more like he was choking on a lump in his throat until he doubled over and had to cling onto the metal bars for leverage. 

Jaskier watched the balding guard’s grip loosen, strength depleting until eventually, he fell on his side with a loud thump. 

That was easier than expected, Jaskier shrugged, promptly getting up from his knees to steal the keys from the man. He was still breathing for as far as he could tell, almost as if he had fallen into a deep slumber.

Furrowing his brows, Jaskier shook his head and cut the rope around his wrists with the guard’s sword. The rest of the dungeon was dark, and he couldn’t make out where the way back up was. Squinting as he tried to focus in the darkness, his eyes bulged wide open as he heard a wooden door break, followed by footsteps echoing through the dungeon.

Heart pounding loudly in his chest, threatening to break out of its ribcage, he quickly drew the guard’s sword and held it upright. Praise the gods, he couldn’t get a break. 

With a determined stance, he held the sword in front of his face, ready to take on the big, broad shadow that was looming closer. 

“Really, bard?” 

Jaskier perked up at that, he would always be able to recognize that deep voice rumbling from deep inside the man’s chest.

“Oh, fancy seeing you here, Geralt,” he said, lowering his sword, smiling widely as he caught a glimpse of Geralt’s wolf-like eyes. “I found myself in quite the pickle.”

“I’m aware.” Geralt pointed at the guard. “Luckily for you, the poison started working right on time.”

Jaskier looked back at the man who was puffing loudly. “Oh, that was you?”

Despite the darkness, Jaskier could almost feel Geralt’s eye-roll. 

“Yes. Now, let’s get moving,” Geralt said, patting Jaskier on the shoulder. “Unless you’d like to spend another night here?”

“Oh lord, no.” Jaskier jumped up, dropping the sword at his feet. He nudged Geralt in the side as they started making their way out of the dungeon. “I’d gladly take a night with you over this madness.”

Geralt’s brows furrowed at that, a bemused look briefly crossing over his features before they were set back into their usual scowl. “Just move.”

[nevermore-ocs]

13 x Plus-Size!Reader-- A Real Woman

Author’s note: EYYYYYY FIRST WRITTEN ONE SHOT FOR 13, and it’s SAUCY AS HELL AT 3.6K WORDS, hope y’all enjoy!!

"Are you kidding me?"

The amount of irritation that filled your body and threatened to explode out of you could put a volcano on the verge of erupting to shame. You picked up the sliver of cardboard that had the black-lettered numbers imprinted on it. It was the right size. It was clear as day. However, when you glanced back at yourself in your long, standing mirror, the (favorite color) fabric very obviously hugged your body and curves in a less than comfortable way, good thing you kept the receipt...somewhere in the bevy of bags you had scattered at the foot of your bed. It was quite frustrating, honestly, the dress was the clothing you were so excited to come home and wear, only to be shot down at the height of your excitement. It was also pretty disheartening, the sight of the dress strained in the more fuller areas, even more so when it was a bit of a struggle to peel the clothing off of your form, just fold it away and take it back, all you could do now. "Darling?" The knocks rang through your head like a loud siren, 13, Remy, you forgot you had told her that showing off your new dress was a surprise for her. She must have gotten impatient and walked to your room from the living room where you left her at, teeming with overwhelming eagerness to see whatever you had in store for her. "Darling, it's been quite some time now, can I come in?" You heard the metal doorknob jiggling with her turning it. "U-Uhhh, one second, Remy!" You called out, silently praying to yourself that she would listen, but knowing your SCP girlfriend, listening when she was this ecstatic was out of the question and wasn't coming back either. "I have to wait longer? But, darling, I want to see you now, I've been waiting far too long!" You could hear the growing need in her voice, and that alone tugged at your heartstrings. Balling up the dress with the tag and the receipt, you snagged one of the bags from the end of your bed and you tossed the items, hurriedly, into it and set the bag to the side, hidden, right in time for Remy to throw the door open. "Hmmmmm? Darling, I thought you were going to show me the new clothes you got, I've seen this underwear pair on you before!" It only now hit you like a ton of bricks that you were stood in front of her, almost fully naked, in nothing but a bra and panties. "But, I adore seeing that perfect body of yours, so this is wonderful as always!" She went up to you, her arms hooked underneath your thighs and she easily hoisted you up into her arms and she kept you pressed against her formally dressed chest. Her lips peppered all over the skin on your face, your lips, the bridge of your nose, and the tip of it too. You, at the very most, attempted to return as many kisses as you could, but Remy, knowing you like the back of her hand, which may have seemed extremely creepy to some, read you like a book. "Darling?" She set you down on the bed, carefully, "What's the matter? Usually, you keep up with all of the kisses I give you! What's going on?" You almost didn't want to answer, mostly out of the fear of Remy going out to the store where you bought the clothes and her just, going on another rampage. Without saying anything, other than letting out an audible sigh, you leaned to the side and grabbed the bag from before by the woven handles and you lifted it, handing it to her.

The bag was empty now, she was looking over the dress and holding it out in front of her to get a good look at it, "It even looks like it'll barely fit me!" She let out an actual growl, it turned into a snarl when she took another look at the tag in her other hand, and in a huff, she stuffed the bag back full. She would have thrown it to the side out of pure angry if it weren't for your hand going onto her arm to stop her. "Remy, it isn't a big deal-! I'll go and return it," she gently-she was always so tender with you as if you were going to break-paused your words by taking a hold of your hands and she knelt onto one knee in front of you as you sat on the mattress. "But still, darling, you sounded so excited when you came back home with this! I can tell when you're troubled, this is an insult from them if anything!" She shook her anger off, for now, and refocused all onto you again, "Tell me, darling, what's wrong? Is it the fact that you paid for it and now you have to take it back?" You let a small smile, albeit with some sadness to it, slip onto your lips listening to her words, your fingers threading through the fluffy, onyx-colored hair she had on her half-shaved head, her eyes fluttered close, her head craning into your open palm and her own wide, sharp-toothed grin spread across her face like a fire spreading through a forest. "Remy, it's, it's not because I paid for it, it's because...." you were dreading to tell her this, out of everything, she despised it when you spoke like this about yourself. "Darling?" She squeezed your hands, "It's because it didn't fit in the first place. That's why I'm upset," the moment that the words dusted from your lips, your lowered your head and silently prepared yourself for a verbal lashing. She stood back up to her feet quite abruptly when she heard that. Her brow furrowed, but a sigh left her lips and she sat down next to you on the bed, the mattress dipping down slightly when she did. "Darling...we had this conversation already, you know your body isn't an issue." She repeated it so much, the words were starting to stay stuck in your head like a mantra you could repeat to yourself and you tried to, honestly, just some days, it was harder than others. "I know that Remy, you tell me every day and I-I appreciate you telling me it's just-" your words got cut off in your throat when one of Remy's fingerless-gloved hands took a hold of your chin, specifically her thumb and index finger. With a gentle tug, she urged your head to turn and face up towards hers and the moment you two locked eyes, you could feel her unnaturally colored eyes boring into your soul in an unwavering, unbreakable gaze. "And I tell you the truth every time I say it." You felt her turning on the bed, you were so fixated on her eyes that you didn't even realize that now, she was facing you. "Darling, your body is...gorgeous. It's perfect," you opened your mouth, to be defiant on your words but she was quicker than you, and she put a finger over your lips, hushing you softly. "It's real, it's beautiful, you aren't some whore who had vulgar things done to it, it's you, it's perfect," her hands went from your head to your shoulders, and cascaded downward in a warm, massaging way. "The way your body fills out my palms when I squeeze you, when I hold you," her words paused momentarily, you felt her hands glide over your hips and when she did, she took a handful of you and squeezed, drawing a gasp out of you and your hands instinctively shot up to her broad shoulders and you held onto her, your fingers digging into the cloth of her navy blue vest. "It's heavenly," the words escaped her lips in a soft, shuddering her breath, feeling your body alone did that much to her, you could feel the excitement resonating from her body by her heavier than normal breathing.

Her hands moved back, they pressed against your lower back and while she motioned you to lay down, she continued to speak, her voice was so low, so addicting, her words flowed into your eardrums and stuck themselves into them like super glue. You, out of all people, knew just how talented she was with words, "Now, lay back, relax," when your body rested against the mattress and your head cradled by the surplus amount of pillows piled up at the head of the bed, she moved up onto her knees above you, her hands moved up and took hold of her bowtie and she untied it, her eyes never breaking from your body. "Let me show you how beautiful you are..." when her bowtie came undone, her vest was unbuttoned quicker than you expect. She leaned down, her hands planted at the sides of your head to keep her elevated above you. "Darling~" The word rolled off of her tongue so smoothly, that time she said it, it sent jolts running rampant through your body before shooting down straight into your core, it made your thighs press together and it occurred to you that she noticed since after that happened, one of those signature wide grins settled onto its usual place on her lips. She began to move her hands up to your bra and your bosom, when they arrived, she hooked her finger around the clip at the front of your bra, however, she paused her movements when she did and waited before she even attempted to undo it. "May I?~" You couldn't the smile that broke out across your face. She always asked. With a nod of your head, you pressed a chaste kiss against her lips before relaxing again, "You may~" the moment the words left your lips, she pulled upwards on the clip and your bra unfastened. Your breasts spilled out of the cups when she pulled the clothing away and set it to the side for whenever you needed it back. Her hands instantly went back up, she cupped both of your breasts and squeezed, drawing a breathy gasp to come from your mouth, "How your body reacts," she started again, her voice was beginning to get drenched in that recognizable, insatiable desire, all for you. "It's otherworldly~ Every breath you take, seeing your breasts rise and lower," she ran her thumb over one of your nipples, teasing the hardening nub with her fifth digit before adding her index finger and she pinched it tenderly, giving it a soft tug too. "It makes my blood boil in the best of ways~ It stirs this, this, want for you," her words drifted off when she leaned closer to your right breast. Her inhumanely long tongue slinked out of her mouth and she dragged a long, wet, lick up your nipple at first, then she closed the distance, her lips wrapped around your breast, and she sucked on it tenderly. You could feel those sharp, dangerous teeth of her grazing against your skin in almost a teasing way as if she was preparing to bite down, but, wasn't going to.

"Remy~ Haaahh~" Your hand, shakily, reached up and your fingers snaked into her fluffy, soft, black hair. You gripped it and gave a soft tug, and in turn, it pulled a low, rumbling growl from the pit of her stomach. You felt the sweet, pleasurable vibrations go through your breast, alongside the suckling from her, and how her tongue flicked across your nipple over and over again. Pulling back, she breathed out quite heavily, panting shortly after, and whilst she did that, her fingers hooked around the edges of your panties, and she tugged downwards. "No, no it's not a want-it's a need~ It's as if I don't get you, if I don't claim you, I can't go on~ You and your perfect body awaken this, almost primal desire for you," she reached downwards to unbuckle her belt, however, this time, you beat her to the punch. Letting hand press against the tent in her slacks, you wrapped your fingers around her restrained, hard cock, and you pumped it a few times. She gritted her teeth, sucking in a soft breath through the gaps, her hips bucked somewhat into your hand at the pleasurable friction, "Can't you see what you do to me, darling?~" She breathed out, "Remy?" You questioned after slipping the black, leather belt out of the belt loops of her slacks, "Don't you feel just how erect you got me?~ I'm throbbing, it's almost uncomfortable in my slacks, haha!~" She took over, taking a hold of the zipper, she pulled it downwards and pushed her loose slacks down with her boxer briefs. She breathed out a low groan of relief when her imprisoned length sprung out from her cloth restraints and stood hard at attention. "You did this, darling~ Your body did this to me, those, mhm, delectable moans and noises you let out~  How your eyes roll back when you get lost in your pleasure," to prove her point, one of her gloved hands made its way to your wet slit, she slid her finger downwards from your clit to your entrance, letting your wetness collect on her digit, then she slid it deep inside of you. It made you moan out quite loudly, and your actions repeated exactly what she had said. Your eyes rolled back, you threw your head back into the pillows and moaned out openly. "Just like that~" Her finger steadily pushed in and out of your slit, her other hand, free as it can be, went to your thighs and kept your legs spread open for her. She caressed it thoroughly, going across the inner part, then moved upwards and across the top of it, then to the outer side, and she gripped tenderly, her fingers digging into your body somewhat, not enough to do any kind of damage though of course.

Pushing her finger into you deeply, she kept it buried inside of the warm, wet crevice, she curled it inward towards her palm over and over again, and her thumb planted gingerly on your clit, and she rubbed it in tantalizingly slow circles, "How soaked you get at my touches, you're a sight people dream about~ That they wished they had~" She continued, watching and taking in the sight of just how you writhed with pleasure on the bed, your fingers gripped and held onto the bed-sheets tightly, if you had the strength she did you were sure to tear through them. "Remy~ Hah~ Anh~ Please, that's so good, I-I had no idea you thought all of that about me~" You managed to get out, taking in that grin she had. "Then I'll always make sure that you do~ And even if you forget, I'll gladly repeat it, I'll tell you as many times as you need to hear it, as many times as you want, darling, you are so perfect~" She slowly retracted her fingers from your dripping wet slit, causing you to whimper in a needy way, desperate to feel something of hers to fill you up again. As if right on cue, she began to answer your desires all over again. She slid herself into place, snuggly in between your thighs, and when she did, she placed her hands under your legs, and she moved them until they rested comfortably at her waist. "And darling, seeing you like this, your body burning, the scent of my love's essence pooling out of her and filling my senses, I cannot wait for another moment," her hips adjusted and you could feel the head of her cock brush against your folds, it nudged past them, but she didn't enter you, yet. "I have to take you~" When she leaned over you, you took the chance, your arms hooked around her neck, and you pulled her down to your level. Your lips crashed against hers in a much-needed, deep, passionate lip-lock, your tongue, feeling bold, ran across her bottom lip and she instantly received the message. Her mouth pried open, welcoming your tongue, and it made the kiss deeper, hotter. Your tongue swirled around with her inhumanely long one, it made your legs tighten around her waist, and you felt her hips begin to rock. It made her cock grind against your cock, it gradually gathered your wetness on the length of it, making it slick. "Then take me, Remy~ I need you too, I, God, I need you so badly~"

Hearing you beg was the best music in the entire world to her, better than her favorite song in the same. "Gladly, darling~" She reached down, wrapping her hand around the base of her cock, she lined herself up to your entrance, you felt yourself breathing heavier, preparing yourself for what's about to come. Her hips pushed forward, her slick, hard length slid deep inside of you, her hips pressed up against yours when she easily hilted herself, letting herself be engulfed by the welcoming feeling of your wet, velvety-soft walls hugging around the shape of her cock, "Ooohhhh, darling~ You always feel, mmmm, wonderful~ How you hug around me, no one is as perfect as you, my dear~" She leaned down, and pecked your cheek, "Hold onto me, I don't think I can contain myself anymore, now that I'm," she pulled her hips back, almost sliding herself out all of the way, only to snap her hips forward again and pump her cock deep inside of you. "Inside of you~" Doing what she said, you kept your arms locked around her neck, your fingers clawing at the back of her shirt as she started to thrust in and out of you at a steady, growing pace, her hips slapping up against yours. Her name escaped from your lips in loud moans numerous times, like a mantra, as if it were the only thing you knew, she wasn't as loud, but her low groans, matched with a few quiet, breathy little laughs sent shivers up and down your spine since her mouth was right next to your ear. Your legs wrapped properly around her waist, your heels digging into the spot above her rear, her arms moved down and wrapped themselves firmly around your waist and she clung onto you. Thanks to your legs, it made her thrusts grow faster, her forehead rested against yours, you could see just how red-faced she was, she panting, breathing heavily. "Darling~" She gasped out, it took you a couple of attempts to pry your shut-tight eyes, but when you did, you were greeted with the sight of her red sclera, light grey irised eyes focused onto (eye color) ones, the sight made you feel safe, it made you feel loved, she never scared you or anything like that, it made your heartbeat louder with uncontrollable love all for SCP-013. "I love you, darling, I love you so much~" She had leaned forward, and you, surprising her, leaned forward too and closed the gap in between the both of you for another warm, passionate lip lock, "I love you too, Remy, I, mmhf!~ Hahhn!~ I love you~"

Her thrusts grew faster, more rapid, inconsistent, she was getting close. Her noises got louder than before, her panting started to turn heavier and almost sounded more primal-like due to her mouth being open as it was, "D-Darling I'm, ohhh, I'm so close~ You feel, so, hnh, unf, amazing~" Nodding, as your orgasm was at the precipice, ready to come crashing down and hit you with all the force it had, you pulled her down closer to you, her head next to yours and instantly, she turned it and nestled it into the crook of your neck, placing several kisses all over the side of your neck, along with little bites here and there. She attempted to contain herself, however, after the whole incident with the last bite she did to one of your thighs and almost gave you a heart attack when she lifted her head and she had blood on her lips. "M-Me too!~ Cum, hahh, cum inside of me, Remy, please!~" You could feel her grin against your skin, "I wouldn't want to anywhere else, hnh, anyway, darling~" You laughed breathlessly alongside her, turning your head, you pressed your lips against her cheek and onto one of the swirling, deep tissued scars that spiraled across the exposed side of her face. She pumped and pounded her hips down into yours a few more times and it was that last one that made her hilt herself all of the way inside of you, keeping her hips locked down onto yours. She groaned out loudly, her hips flexed forward with each pump of her cum flowing inside of you, flooding you, she hadn't even begun to pull out when droplets and dribbles of her cum seeped through the gaps of her cock buried deep inside of your slit. She was never too keen on pulling out of you, not that you had a problem with it. "Hopefully," she started, huffing out a much-needed breath, and she hiked herself back up above you, her hands planted on the mattress much like before. When she adjusted herself like that, that damned, large, wide, sharp-toothed grin slid onto her face and made itself at home on her lips.

"That got through to you, darling~ Or....do you need more convincing?~ Trust me, as you know, I can be, hehehe, quite persuasive~"

[werejusttouchingeachother]

His Sunrise

Words: 6620

Warnings: mentions of abuse, slight violence

Spots light up your vision as your eyelids keep fluttering, struggling to keep them open. The blood from your head hadn’t clotted for hours now and it was torture as it dripped torturously slowly down your forehead, into your eye as it mixed with your tears and formed a bloody trail down your face. Your wrists burned as the ropes bit into them with every movement you made and you’d long lost feeling in your bound legs.

Your eyes focus on the ripped seams of your navy jeans as you hang your head, unable to keep it up anymore. Your vision blurs again as a drop falls right onto your thigh, the deep red forming a large spot that looked almost black against the dark blue of your jeans. Your head grows dizzy again and you sway slightly, a shaky breath leaving your parted lips as your eyes close.

No, no, no, you have to stay awake! The voice was louder the last few hours but as the blood spread over your neck and into your clothes, it was getting harder to hear it and your body was refusing to listen.

You see blue behind your lids and you realise it’s the same blue that had gotten you in this position in the first place.

Oh Sehun.

You want to laugh because of course, you couldn’t stay awake but trust your brain to still be able to recall the first time you saw him.

It had been a cold December night in Brooklyn when he’d walked into the bar that you sat at while laughing with all your friends who had downed too many shots to be even forming coherent words. You couldn’t even remember the joke now but you remember the way you’d stopped as he entered, his tall frame in blue jeans and a white shirt, looking good enough to make your eyes hurt—you didn’t know that was possible but before you could even consider it, your feet were carrying you away from your table to the bar where he sat.

“Hi,” you’d said, smiling widely as you eyed the whiskey that the bartender placed in front of him. His own eyes were running over you, head to toe and even through the tipsy haze that you were in, you remember flushing underneath his intense gaze.

“Aren’t you a bit too hot to be alone?” You’d asked, cocking your head questioningly.

It wasn’t a great line but it was still better than your initial thought when you first saw him: sgddjajkjdsfkn

He’d smirked as he downed the whiskey, gaze never shifting from yours. “Not tonight, sweetheart, I don’t feel too hot tonight.”

You’d leaned closer then, face inches away from his, voice dropping as you said, “I could help with that. Make you feel hot again.”

His eyes had never wavered, even when they shamelessly dropped to your chest as you leaned over him.

That should have been your first sign. The second was that the white cuffs of his sleeves were stained a suspicious red that he was discreetly rolling up his elbows while he smirked at you, leaning closer so that you could feel his breath on you until you could almost taste his whiskey.

That was the third sign. He knew all-too well how to distract anyone from noticing the blood on his hands and as he murmured, “No thanks, love, I think you've had enough vodka for tonight," you should’ve known that it wasn’t his first time creating diversions while smooth-talking.

You'd shaken your head at him, placing your hand gingerly on his knee. “The vodka’s better than your whiskey.”

He’d raised a perfectly arched eyebrow then, eyes momentarily flitting to your hand. “Who says so?”

“I do. I’ve had the whiskey twice and it was horrible.”

“Well, you seem drunk enough without it.”

"I’m really not. You should see my friends. They're—”

"There's a man at your four o'clock who hasn't stopped staring at your ass," he'd interrupted. "Maybe you should help him?"

You'd shaken your head again, gaze dropping to his lips. "I don't want to help him."

"Then you should really get home—”

"I want to kiss you."

At this, he stopped. His eyes flicker down to your mouth just for a second but it’s all the hesitation that you need.

He had sighed softly at your stubbornness then, giving you a playful smirk as he took your hand from his thigh and tugged you forward.

"Thought you hated whiskey?" His voice had grown softer then, huskier.

The words, "Third time's the charm" were hardly out of your mouth before his lips were on yours, tasting sweeter than any whiskey you've ever had. His fingers clenched around your hand as he pulled you as close to him as he could until you were trapped between his thighs on the barstool. Your hand felt cold in his and it was a sharp contrast to the warmth of his mouth.

Another sign. You had written it off as the chills from the winter air outside when it was actually from the snow that he'd used to bury another "assignment".

You hadn't been thinking straight though. Not then nor when he stopped kissing you after what seemed like forever, his own eyes seeming glazed over as he almost reluctantly pulled away like he didn't want to but was forcing himself to. Not even when you managed to mutter, "That was the best whiskey I've ever had," making him chuckle lowly as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before getting off the stool and leaving the bar.

The rest of the night always seemed like a dream to you whenever you thought about it. You would never have believed it happened if you didn't see the things you did after that, hear the words that were exchanged and remember the murderous look in his eyes when he'd found you at the dark alleyway behind the bar since it was burned into your memory.

Your friends had left thinking that you had left early, too drunk to realise you were about five feet away from them, trying your luck with the most beautiful man you'd ever seen. And after he'd left and you'd realised you were alone, you didn’t stick around long either as you made your way out. But four o’clock man found you and you were too confused, drunk and upset at being rejected to realise that this man wasn’t just another guy trying to score a good fuck for the night.

You weren’t thinking then either. If you had, maybe you’d have reacted better when you felt the cold barrel pressed against your back as he pushed you to the alley, away from the crowd, your body moving like a limp puppet in his arms.

You remember this part. You remember the fear gripping your chest, the way the cold had seeped into your bones and veins, freezing you in ice terror as he pinned you to the brick wall with the gun held against your stomach now.

He’d worn a bandana around his lower face but his sharp dark gaze penetrated you deep enough to have you gasping something about your wallet in your bag. There was a bloody scar running down his right eye and you remember thinking that you’d never seen such a cold glare. You’d stopped talking when you heard the loud ‘thump’ from the impact of a snowball hurled at his head, fine powder falling onto your face.

“You know,” you’d heard a familiar voice announce. “For someone who is obsessed with me, you should know by now that I have no weaknesses. You’re threatening me with a random girl I kissed at a club? Come on.”

Maybe you were too drunk or too scared or maybe he was just too fast but the next thing you knew, he had spun you around until he was holding you up against him with the gun at your back, facing the handsome man from the bar.

“Let her go,” he’d said, his voice unwavering as he stared at the man holding you hostage. You remember blinking rapidly as if to wake up from a dream but the cold biting at your nose and the way your heavy breaths were fogging up in front of your face seemed too real to be in your head.

The guy standing behind you hadn’t said a word nor did he loosen the chokehold he had on you.

You didn’t remember much after that. You remember being hurled to the ground, snow hitting you in the face, hearing a gunshot, hearing a struggle as the gun-wielding man grabbed you once again and hit your head with the gun.

The next thing you remember is waking up in a dimly-lit cluttered room on a creaking single bed, your head feeling like it was going to split open. And the man from the bar was always there while you went in and out of consciousness for days. One of the times when your head wasn’t clouded and you weren’t dead to the world for more than two minutes, he apologised.

“Wh-why?” You’d stammered.

About your head. About the pain at the back of your head. About being held at gunpoint. About dragging you into something like this. About where you were, how you were.

These were the answers you’d expected but what had come out of his mouth had been completely different: “For meeting me, Y/N. For your life now.”

The words had been so surprising, so concerning and so confusing all at once that you’d only squinted at him and he’d put his hand over your eyes, putting you back to sleep.

The next time you’d woken up, it was because of the wind literally whipping your hair into your face. You were wrapped in a blanket and your head had hit the door of the car three times as the car jumped over the bumps on the road.

You remember this. You remember sitting up in the backseat of the car, you remember the confusion, wondering how many days it had been, seeing him in the same blue jeans, him explaining to you how it wasn’t safe for you back in Brooklyn, how you had a new life waiting for you at whichever city was the farthest and that he was driving you to, how he had already made an entire new identity for you because as far as the world knew, Y/N died.

You’d listened in silence, a vague memory of the words he’d said when you’d woken in his dingy room in your head as you realised there was no apology in his voice anymore, just a cold and dispassionate tone as he tried to fix the mess that you were in.

You wondered how deep his background check on you was, if he knew about how it was at ‘home’, if he saw the scars that you hid behind the long sleeves, the purple and black bruises spread across your skin like dark brushstrokes, if he knew that that night at the bar had been the first and last time you were supposed to go out and have fun before you ended all of it, if he knew that the reason you’d been so confident and flirty with him was because you knew it was the first and last time, if he knew that running into him and having this happen to you was the best thing to have happened in all your years of existence and that this was the first time in your entire life that you were breathing easy, in a car miles away from your home with a stranger driving you to your freedom.

He had nothing to be apologetic for. It was twisted but a gun held to your back had you feeling like your heart had never beat as gloriously as it did then in that car, feeling like it would burst through your bruised ribs and out of your chest.

You didn’t say any of this though and instead asked, “What’s your name?”

He’d been stunned at that, his eyes flitting to the rearview mirror to look at you as he said, “What? Don’t you want to know your new name?”

You’d shaken your head at him. “Your name.”

He’d paused. “It’s Jessica.”

“What?”

At this, he’d let out a boisterous laugh, taking you completely by surprise at the shift from his stoic expression as you repeated in disbelief, “Your name is Jessica?”

“It’s yours,” he chuckled, eyes back on the road as he explained, “Your new name is Jessica. It’s one of the top most common names in America.” He paused at your lack of response as you waited before finally saying, “I’m Sehun.”

You had smiled, repeating the name as you felt how it tasted in your mouth and then climbed over the gearshift, saying, “Pull over at the next gas station, Sehun, cause I really need to pee.”

  Blood fell into your eye again, blinding you momentarily as you grimaced at the feeling, your hands twisting at your back as they itched to swipe away the dripping liquid from your forehead. Your hair was matted to your forehead, caked in blood and again, you couldn’t help but wonder how long it took blood to clot. You wished it would stop and as the ache in your body grew in intensity, your thoughts beginning to grow fuzzy again, you could feel your resolve start to break as your body was weakening, wanting to shut down.

No, no, no. Stay awake, you have to stay awake. You fought to keep your eyes open as you forced yourself to remember three years ago, playing the memories like a movie in your head.

 After that gas station, you’d sang along to the songs on the radio, your voice soft but sweet enough to have Sehun start humming too. As your voices grew louder in unison, you remember smiling as you started thumping at the roof of the car.

“What the hell are you doing?” He’d asked and when you kept asking for the sunroof, Sehun finally relented with an exasperated sigh. You can still picture the bewildered look on his face as he stared up at you singing ‘Closing Time’ loudly at the top of your lungs, your arms raised high above your head as the wind whipped at your hair.

“You must really be insane,” he had said, snorting in disbelief as he looked at you like you were deranged. “I’ve never seen someone kidnapped look so happy.”

“I’ve never been this happy!” You’d cheered as you slowly sat back down, lowering the volume to look at him. He’d gazed into your eyes as you said, “Don’t feel sorry, Sehun, because you didn’t kidnap me. You saved me.”

He hadn’t responded, eyes shifting between yours as if he was searching for an answer. You could tell he had a million questions to ask but like that night at that bar when he forced himself to pull away from you, he restrained and stayed quiet.

It was only three nights later when he’d laid on the floor, looking up at you on the bed at the cramped motel where the two of you were spending the night that he finally got the courage to ask. You’d had too much cheap wine and he’d been too amused by your antics to stop you and when he asked what you meant when you said what you did that night in the car, you’d gotten quiet and he’d started to regret it. When he started to crush his beer can to break the silence and began to tell you to sleep, you’d stood up and slowly peeled off the sweater from your body.

His eyes had widened comically and he’d started to hold his hands up as if to stop you, struggling to keep his eyes on your face but once the sweater had hit the ground and even the flickering lights of the motel room hadn’t been able to hide the array of colours on your skin, his eyes were scanning each and every mark with unflinching intensity like he was memorising all of them. It almost made you want to tell him the stories behind each one but you didn’t think you could do it, not without reliving the pain again.

You didn’t say anything, letting all of it speak for itself as Sehun slowly stepped forward. He raised his hand and hesitated as if he wasn’t sure whether to touch you or not. You made it easier by taking his hand and he tugged you forward gently, pulling you right into the direction of the light so that it would shine down on you, illuminating all the harsh blues and purples in its stark white light. Sehun visibly flinched as he stared down at you before his eyes met yours, filled with questions.

“I don’t know where you’re taking me,” you’d whispered. “But frankly, I don’t care. Cause trust me, any place is better than home. I’ve never felt safer in my entire life than I have with you the past week and—”

“Y/N,” he’d interrupted you, shaking his head. “You don’t understand. I’m not—”

“—a model citizen,” you’d cut him off. “I know. You kill people.”

Sehun had blinked then, caught off guard. If you hadn’t been standing in a bra and jeans in front of him, feeling completely bare and vulnerable, you’d probably have even cooed at how cute he seemed—almost as if he was ashamed that you found out about this.

“You shouldn’t get drunk often,” you’d said then, voice softer with a small smile playing on your face. “That night when I told you I’d never been that happy, you drank too much. You get careless when you sleep drunk. It was easy to go through your phone.”

“What?” Sehun had demanded, aghast. “Y/N, how—”

“I, uh, held the phone against your thumb so it would unlock.” At his murderous look, you’d quickly said, “Look, it doesn’t matter, I saw all I had to see already.”

“You don’t understand, Y/N. You’re being incredibly stupid. You were held at gunpoint, I only barely saved you that last time, I can’t promise you that I can do that again. You’ll be in constant danger if you’re around me—”

“I don’t care.”

“Y/N.”

“Whether you drop me off to this new life you keep talking about,” you’d said quietly, eyes locked on his. “Or if you take me with you, I’m already safer than I was at home.”

He’d stepped forward then, eyes narrowed. “You… you want me to take you with me?”

“Yes. I want to come with you. If you leave me, I’ll just follow you.”

At this, he gives you a smirk. “That’s cute, Y/N, you think you can find me?”

“Trust me, I can. And I will.”

“What are you, in love with me or something?”

His tone was mocking but you fall quiet at this, not because you don’t want to answer—you honestly didn’t know. Did you love him? You didn’t know but you knew that something akin to it had sprouted after spending every hour in a car with this man over a week—as you avoided any question about the two elephants in the room (your past and his job), the two of you talked about everything under the sun from songs on the radio to taxes never being used for the countless potholes on the road (which sparked an argument from your sardonic question of ‘Are you telling me that you, an assassin, have been paying taxes?’) to discussing deeper topics on the highway during early hours of the dawn like whether he believed in astrology (he didn’t) and when you said that you liked sunsets more than a sunrise, he pulled over at the next beach (even though he said that you both had to be at the next town before 5AM) with a derisive snort of, “That’s cause you’ve never seen a sunrise. Sunsets are romanticised and stupid clichés but they haven’t got shit on a sunrise and I’m going to prove it to you”.

And he did. As you watched the rays permeate through the sky and fill his eyes, bringing out the honeyed brown warmth of them in a way that took your breath away, you’d realised that yes, no sunset could ever have been as incredible as the sunrise on that day. You felt the sun in your blood, in your veins and in your heart.

Sehun’s face had fallen at your silence, his mocking expression sombering into one of deadly seriousness as he stared at you. There were a thousand questions flitting through his eyes but yet again, like he always had, he restrained himself.

So then, you had responded honestly, “I don’t know. I don’t know if I do but I don’t want to leave you until I figure it out.”

He’d left the room then. You hadn’t followed him. You’d slept alone at that motel that night and when you’d woken up, you were convinced that you had scared him away completely and he’d left with the car but as you walked out of the motel at 7AM, he’d been waiting in his car, arms crossed.

He didn’t speak after that. He didn’t speak when you asked him why he hadn’t left, didn’t respond when you yelled at him to speak and didn’t reply even when you begged him to just say a word. Even when you grew angry and decided to stubbornly not talk either, he only turned up the music to drown out the silence. He’d stayed quiet even later that night when he’d lifted you onto the bonnet of the car, raising your sweater and applying a cool gel over the darkest bruise on your left rib, right beneath your bra. You’d tried pushing him away but he’d shut you up with a look.

“Tell me if it feels better,” he’d murmured. “It’s Vitamin K and Google says they’re supposed to help. I don’t know.”

You’d bitten back a smile at this, not wanting him to hit you with the tube. “You... You Googled it?”

“I don’t heal bruises on the regular, Y/N. You said it yourself, I’m an assassin, not a doctor. I’m more familiar with how to give these.”

You’d winced at that, a grimace on your face as his hands froze on your skin. His dark eyes met yours, voice quiet as he asked, “Did you flinch because of what I said or my fingers?”

Your lack of response had sufficed as an answer as he bit his lip, swallowed a retort and you had finally had it.

“Say it,” you had snapped, eyes narrowed. “Just say it. Why do you always stop yourself?”

“This is my point exactly,” he shot back, not missing a beat. “This is what I said last night. You may have escaped from one hell but being with me is just you living in another. I’m only going to be dangerous to you, Y/N. More bruises, maybe even gunshots. I can’t give you what you want from me. I can’t give you a grand wedding, three children, two dogs and a house with a picket fence.”

“I never asked for any of that,” you’d muttered. “You don’t even know what I want.”

“I know what you have, it’s Stockholm syndrome,” he spat.

You’d burst out laughing at that, shoving his arms away. “I never said I was in love with you, you asshole, don’t get too flattered.”

He’d rolled his eyes and slapped your hands away to apply more of the gel on the rest and you’d been too annoyed to stop him or protest.

He hadn’t stopped at any rest stops after that morning, or even for meals, driving faster as if to get rid of you quicker and when he’d pulled up at the Skyline apartment complex around 4AM—the address of ‘Jessica’ complete with a job that paid rent—you hadn’t missed the look of surprise as you started to grab your coat from the backseat and step out.

“What?” You’d sighed, exasperated. “For once in your life, could you just spit out what you’re thinking? You know, for someone who’s an assassin, you give way too many fucks. Stop restraining yourself.”

“If I did give too many fucks and stopped restraining myself, I would have killed you by now, Y/N.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Why? You think I love you too much?”

“Can you shut the fuck up about that already?” You had yelled then, not caring if anyone overheard. “You wouldn’t kill me because you know I’m not a threat to you, I’m not going to report you. And no, it’s not because I’m in fucking love with you, it’s because I know that even if I did it out of spite, the cops would never catch you. If they could, they would have by now.”

Sehun had blinked at your outburst, hesitating. When he saw the rage in your face as you opened your mouth to yell about stopping himself again, he quickly blurted, “What does this mean? You’ll go without putting up a fight?”

You had shrugged then, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t want to be a bother, Sehun. I always thought that if I wasn’t such a bother back at home, if I’d just have left, maybe we’d have all been happier. I won’t follow you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I don’t want to be a burden. You saved me from one hell. You’ve… you’ve done enough.”

He’d stared at you then, his lips pursued and you’d stared back, wondering if he would nod and drive away.

He didn’t. He had stepped out then, walked around the car and stood in front of you. Your breath had grown shorter with each step he’d taken and when he’d grabbed you by your shoulders and stared you right in the eyes, you were certain that you had even been feeling slightly dizzy.

“You could die,” he’d said harshly. “And I’m not talking just gunshots, you could be kidnapped and tortured and cut open in the most brutal way possible.”

“Teach me then,” you’d whispered. “Teach me to protect myself. Make me as good as you.”

“You can never stay in one place,” he warned. “You’ll always be on the run.”

“Do you not recall me saying that the happiest I’ve ever been is on the road, on a drive that never ends?”

He stopped then. Eyes softening, he’d murmured, “You’ll be lonely. You can never grow close to anyone. You’ll never be on a drive with anyone else, you can never settle down, no family, no kids, no picket fence.”

Raising your hand to cup his face, you’d whispered, “Trust me, I’m sick of people. Also, you need to stop with the picket fence, I hate picket fences.”

Sehun had chuckled then, leaning into your touch as he gazed at you. Searching your eyes again, he’d asked, “Are you sure?”

“Only if you are. You don’t have to feel pressured by my feelings either, I can just be a sidekick.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A sidekick?”

“Yeah, since you obviously don’t like me and you keep mocking—”

He’d grabbed you by your hips then, pulling you to him as he pressed his mouth to yours, cutting you off completely. The words died on your lips as your nerves sparked with life at his touch, feeling yourself almost melt in his arms. Sehun had pulled away right when you began to feel breathless, leaning his forehead to yours as he muttered, “Since you keep complaining about how I’m restraining myself. I’ve been wanting to do that since that night at the bar.”

“I know what you have, it’s Lima syndrome,” You’d murmured, mocking his tone from earlier and making him chuckle against your lips as he kissed you again softly. “You taste better sober, Sehun.”

“That’s just cause you hate whiskey, Y/N, I always taste great,” he’d teased, pressing you up against the car as he kissed you deeply, making up for all the times he’d restrained himself, as he allowed you to finally get completely drunk on him.

   A small smile graced your lips as you relived that moment in your head, the new beginning to your life. The taste and smell of blood was still overpowering your senses but you could still faintly smell Sehun, still taste that first kiss that wasn’t exactly your first but was the first time you’d memorised the way his lips felt as it moulded against yours.

You raised your head to the ceiling and leaned back, sniffling before realising that it was blood trickling down your nose. You blinked drowsily as several memories flitted in your foggy head like a movie reel—Sehun’s feather kisses on every discoloured mark and scar all over your body the first time the both of you had sex as if he was kissing the pain away, the way his eyes had crinkled as he smiled the biggest smile that he’d ever smiled on the first time that you finally wore shorts and a crop top because all the bruises had finally faded away with no fresh ones to replace them, the way he’d murmured that you’d never looked more beautiful, the way he’d always snuggle into your chest and mumble ‘five more minutes’ when you tried to wake him up, the way he’d cried in your arms for hours after finally telling you of how he became the way he was and of how he had to watch his older brother Chanyeol get shot in the head, the way he’d fallen asleep like that after soaking your shirt with his tears, the way he’d whispered how he’d taken you with him across cities purely because he didn’t want to see someone else killed because of him, the way how his first confession had made you cry so hard because he’d drunkenly muttered, ‘I regret kissing you at that bar more than anything else in my life, Y/N, because I love you so much that it hurts and I can’t stand to think of you ever getting hurt again, of your body ever getting fucking bruised again cause of me’.

He’d cried as he said it but not as hard as you had after he’d fallen asleep.

But then when you’d gotten too drunk on cheap brandy later that week and had tearfully admitted to him that ‘Despite what you think, if it weren’t for that kiss, if it weren’t for that night at the alleyway, I’m sure I wouldn’t even be alive because of the hell that you saved me from, it wasn’t one I wanted to return to and that kiss was the best thing to ever happen to me, you bastard, I love you’, Sehun had held you tightly in his arms until you had stopped shaking and he’d kissed you until you stopped thinking of how you had planned to end your life that night.

A sob escaped your throat and you blinked in surprise as a single tear trailed down your cheek. You didn’t think you could cry anymore but you thought of it as a prayer—you weren’t much of a believer but with every hour that passed in this basement that you were tied in, you prayed with all you had that Sehun was okay. Or at least alive and not losing his mind about you.

You hear a slight shuffle and strain to see in front of you. A dark figure enters the room and you watch with blurry eyes as the silhouette became less blurry with every step towards you. You feel a fierce grip on your scalp as he yanks your head up to look at him and you blink hazily to focus on his face.

“Wow,” he laughed, smirking as your eyes widened when they met his. A black cloth covered the lower half of his face and there was a thick jagged crimson scar running down across his right eye that stared down at you as he said, “Someone who got hit as much as you did usually should have passed out by now.”

“Se… Sehun,” you croaked, your voice raspy and your throat dry. “Where is Sehun?”

His fingers tightened painfully around your hair until you feel the pain all the way to your roots as his eyes narrowed at you. He glared at you for a few seconds before shoving you away harshly, your head swaying to a side like a pendulum. Excruciating pain bloomed behind your eyelids as you felt the grip at the back of your head after he had let go, wondering if it was close to the bleeding wound since the ache seemed to indicate that it was.

“Random girl I kissed, my ass,” he muttered in distaste and stepped away, making you suddenly freeze.

The voice. That tone. You knew it.

Your head shot up fast enough to give you whiplash as you stared at the man in front of you. He turned his head to meet your gaze, silent as you observed him. There was something so familiar about those eyes, like a pair that you’d seen before—

“What?” He demanded, raising an eyebrow as he rolled his dark eyes at you. “Still don’t recognise me? Maybe holding a gun to your head might help trigger your memory.”

Oh my God.

“It’s you,” you muttered, your eyes wide as that night flashed through your head again for the second time. “You’re the one from… from three years ago. Brooklyn.”

“Bingo,” he cheered mockingly. “Funny running into here at Russia, isn’t it?”

His voice was muffled behind the black bandana but it irked you as oddly familiar. You tried to recall if he’d said anything on that cold night so many years ago.

You spat out some blood, your entire body having gone numb from your upright position as you said, “Funny that you call assault and kidnapping as ‘running into’.”

“Damn, big words for someone who’s an accomplice to an assassin. You know how many years in jail that is?”

“No, but I’m sure you do with your first-hand experience.”

His eyes narrowed, the scar appearing almost more menacing as he glared at you. “You’d been like a scared puppy back in that alleyway, babygirl. A few kills and you’re suddenly feisty? Didn’t your boyfriend ever teach you to shut up?”

“My boyfriend taught—”

The words come to a sharp halt in your throat as he raises his gloved hands to his face. You wait with bated breath as he yanks off the bandana and then you feel your heart completely stop when you finally see his face.

No. No. No.

“Wha—” your voice is a breathless whisper and you sway slightly as a red hue blurred your vision. You blinked rapidly and shook your head to make sure you weren’t hallucinating as you stared at him—at the face that you’d seen, touched, kissed and loved for three years.

Sehun. But at the same time, it wasn’t.

“Aw, looks like your darling boyfriend wasn’t completely honest with you,” he said in mock-pity, batting his eyes at you with fake sympathy. It made sense now, why that gaze seemed familiar, the voice, the eyes, even the face.

Yet, he was as fake as his words. This wasn’t Sehun.

“Who are you?” You asked finally. “Where’s Sehun?”

“I’m Sehůn, silly,” he chuckled.

“That’s not true.”

“It is. I’ll prove it to you.”

The words triggered a memory, the first sunset that you’d seen with him—“Sunsets haven’t gotten shit on a sunrise and I’m going to prove it to you”.

Sehun had said that sunrises were his hope to stay alive. Light always came even after the darkest night and every sunrise was his only ray of hope, the only beacon of light in his dark life.

Was. After the night at the alley, he’d found another ray of hope, another light, another sunrise. One that he wanted to keep forever.

Forever.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you demanded again, “Where is Sehun?”

He rolled his eyes, snorting. “Relax. I said I’ll prove it, didn’t I?” He glanced down at his watch. “In three… two… one—”

A loud clatter sounded at a distance and you shifted your gaze to the same door that he had entered through as it slammed open.

“Right on time,” Sehůn muttered, turning to stand beside you as you both faced the door.

Your heart was slamming against your ribcage and your body felt like it was going to shut down any minute but you forced yourself to stay awake, willed all of your energy to stay alive.

A dark shadow appeared at the door as the figure staggered forward, a loud cry escaping your parted lips.

Sehun’s left arm hung limply at his side, right hand cupping his left shoulder as blood dripped down the cuffs of his jacket’s sleeve onto the floor. His previously white-shirt was splattered all over with bloodstains, his neck and the side of his head tainted with blood.

His eyes immediately scanned your tied up form on the chair and you could see even from where you sat how his shoulders slumped at your state, his eyes beginning to blink quickly as he forced the tears down.

“Y/N,” Sehun breathed, his voice broken. His eyes shifted to the man beside you, turning dark with murder as he hissed, “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

The man laughed, his hand going to the inside of his jacket in a familiar gesture that made both of your eyes widen as he said, “That’s funny cause I’m the only one walking out of here alive, Sehun.”

He whipped out a gun and held it to the side of your head right as he said his name, making him stop in his tracks.

“I’m just wondering,” he continued casually as if he was speaking about the weather. “Who should I kill first? Cause I wanna hurt both of you but you, dear Sehun, I want to see you writhing in pain.”

You raked your eyes over Sehun’s form, knowing his gun was taken away and that he was too far to save you, too hurt to run to you.

But he would. He still would because he was the smartest assassin but the most idiotic lover.

“Do it,” you muttered as you closed your eyes, not wanting to see the expression on Sehun’s face as he pulled the trigger. “Just—”

Two gunshots echoed around the room and your eyes shot open to see Sehun three feet from you, on his knees. Your eyes widen, mouth falling open as you screamed when you saw the blood pooling at his legs.

“Looks like you can’t run anymore, loverboy,” Sehůn taunted, holding the gun to the side of your head. “How you gonna stop me blowing out your girlfriend’s brains now, huh?”

Sehun’s eyes are teary as they gaze at you and you’re not even sure if he can see you through them as you mouth, “I’m sorry.”

When the gunshot sounds, the last thing that flashes before your closed eyes is Sehun’s warm gaze as he watched the sun’s rays hit your face while you stared at every sunrise with him in oblivion.  

He’d never seen a sunrise after your first one together, he’d only seen you. You were his hope, his light, his sunrise.