#i was scared of telling him cause i KNEW he'd be like 'do you have any clue how much the doctor's gonna cost blah blah'

[beforecreation]

In truth, there was nothing he knew that meant giving his name was innately dangerous, especially when he could not recall what she had consumed in front of his very eyes. His reasoning for withholding his name had been far more minor, it coming back to his point of contention with the one who had brought him here in the first place: Regulus Corneas. Clearly, if she valued him so highly, his name should've rung in the ears of all those who lived in this precious utopia of hers. And yet if it were not for his inhuman appearance, he was certain he would've been mistaken for a servant who had lost his way.

For that reason, a reason that had caused this feline deity to narrowly avoid giving out information that would only damn him further, he would merely give a bow in 'apology' for being unable to return the gesture.

"Why if she hasn't told you, I'm terribly sorry, then I cannot tell you either. I don't wish to defy her any further than I have previously."

It would seem that despite her hunger, she was not to play an ironic game of cat and mouse. Good, the last thing he needed was to distract him from... something. Why had he entered the library? What was his goal? Confusion mixed with the new knowledge he had been given, he could recalls the words of Rui and her actions, but not once could he recall when he wandered the halls in search of the library, and yet his reasoning for doing so escaped him. His gaze would be fixed on Rui before shifting to his surroundings. Was it the girl or the area that occupied that had suddenly left him feeling disoriented?

Whatever the case was, it was clear he had lost progress in what he aimed to do; he would have to leave in order to ensure he didn't lose any more of his memory. It would be most fortunate that Rui herself didn't require much convincing on her end, did she simply seek to scare him? Intimidate weaker willed victims into confessing their desires to be free of Regulus and the part of the world that was carved out for her? Or was she simply contemplating eating a unique "husband" of her leader?

His questions would stay internal for now, his eyes watching as Rui's hair loosens and falls away in mere seconds, now allowing him his freedom once more. As if any part of this could be considered true freedom.

A mischievous kid, that one. Gluttony, was it? Perhaps he would toss a plate her way the next time servants come to serve him. Or perhaps he would toss a couple of rats her way, should he find them. It'd be like sneaking treats to a dog that stared at the food on the dinner table, except he'd likely have to worry about her trying to bite the hand that feeds her.

He exchanges a wave and a small smile as he begins to make his way out of the library. Earnestly, he hoped never to have to go through that experience again... what little details he could recall of it. In any case, sticking around here would most likely prove to not nearly a beneficial to him as he hoped. And as his bindings droop and fall away, he would get out of his chair and stretch, followed by a loud yawn.

A second bow is given, a bit more proper than the first. And, in a demonstration of good will, he'd go as far as to turn his back on her.

Granted, his hearing and reflexes would give him more than enough time to react properly, a flick to the head would've been enough to send most flying, and act as a proper deterrent should he attempt to avoid escalation. But no, she seemed to be content with waiting in her little spot, giving an offer that nearly made his stomach turn.

Still, he lets out a light laugh instead, and a nod, appearing to take her words in stride, rather than as a promise.

"Right, of course. If I ever prefer death, I'll offer my head to you on a silver platter."

With that over with, he felt the need to shower. She had not gotten any of her drool on him but... somehow, he felt as though she had not washed her hair nearly enough. It was time to discover if there was some glorified bathhouse he may take a soak in for a few minutes. It would just be a matter of navigating the halls again, which itself felt like a far more confusing ordeal than it had any right to be. Who knows if his intended destination was where he'd actually end up?

Her head tilted slightly as she scrutinized him, her gaze piercing. It seemed that someone had revealed more than they intended. She had introduced herself, sharing the name of the castle's owner and the ruler of the kingdom, yet he had withheld his own name. This only deepened her curiosity. What secrets did he harbor? What knowledge did he possess that made him wary of sharing his identity? If he were to divulge his name, would it vanish from existence, leaving him a mere shadow, known to no one? 

The thought amused her that he knew he could not give his name to her, and she chuckled softly.

But that didn’t deter her from feasting on the knowledge contained within the book he clutched. It was a mere distraction for him, a tool she could use to unravel all the progress he had made. The content of the book mattered little; with just a single bite, she could siphon the wisdom from its pages, leaving them blank and devoid of memory. He would forget why he had come or what he had done, as she plucked the memories from his mind, savoring their flavor. They were quite delectable, and yet, the hunger gnawed at her, evident in the way her fangs glistened. She was ravenous, craving something truly satisfying, and he was the perfect feast.

Even though the urge to devour him was strong, she restrained herself, standing confidently at the table with her hands on her hips. He was seated, looking up at her, while her hair coiled around his arms and a leg pinned him in place, ensuring he couldn't escape. He was trapped, and she had no intention of letting him go. If he wished to be free, he would have to earn it, but if he dared to break loose and strike her, it would be the gravest error of his life. There was no doubt that he was formidable; one blow from him could very well end her. Yet, she was not to be underestimated. She possessed strength that surpassed his, along with powers beyond his comprehension. 

Many had tried to take her down, and all had failed, their fates sealed in her hunger. Moreover, if he so much as touched her, she would summon her loyal pets to her side in an instant, ready to defend her. 

The last thing he wanted was to face the wrath of the three great beasts of the world, bound to obey her every command.

"Are you not going to introduce yourself? What’s your name?" she might as well have asked the air, knowing he might either remain silent or offer a name that was nothing but a facade. 

It seemed he was a bit more perceptive than the rest. She had a knack for uncovering secrets, devouring the identities of the husbands who wandered in, names that even their wives wouldn’t recognize. They were merely husbands, stripped of their essence, for they were never truly married; they were just numbers, branded and categorized. She relished in consuming their names and memories, rendering them docile and simple-minded. If she indulged too much, they would be reduced to mindless shells or fall into a deep, unending slumber from which they would never awaken.

Her gaze drifted down for a moment, reluctant yet compelled to listen as her golden hair unfurled, wrapping around his legs and arms before retracting, still coiling around her feet like a shimmering serpent. The length of it was astonishing, glistening in the light. As she released him, she observed him intently, wondering if he would rise and walk away. She followed him to the table, her sanctuary, the place where she lingered, preying on the foolish souls who entered. This was her domain, where she thrived, feasting on those who had lost their value in the world. Once she consumed someone, they vanished, fading from memory as if they had never existed at all.

“If you are bored of life come back here, please! I will miss you dearly. If you ever find life dull, would you consider letting me have a piece of you? It would be better than the thought of you trying to escape your fate. Whether I get to consume you alive or in another way, it doesn’t really matter to me, though I’d prefer you to be alive.” She chuckles for a moment, sharing the fate of the people around them—those who seek to flee their pain, who come here only to collapse on the ground, yearning to be consumed. 

For them, escape is merely a fantasy. There’s no way out from the Cult; they would chase him to the ends of the Earth, bringing him back time and again. But in truth, it hardly mattered, as he couldn’t even step beyond the kingdom’s borders without drawing attention from one of them.

[sw33t-oubliette]

love (hate) when im Thinking about my childhhod and im like "yeah it was pretty normal and good ithink" and then i fuckingg Rember

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Family Friend

Prompt: Jack Hotchner is arrested for underage drinking and the first person he calls to bail him out, is you.

It was almost 2 in the morning when you received the call.

"Y/N?" You heard the familiar voice of Jack Hotchnner's voice speak. He sounded small and almost scared.

"Jack?" You sat up in bed, immediately awake. "Are you alright?"

"I did something stupid Y/N. My dad's gonna kill me."

His words were slightly slurred and slow, imitating that of someone who had been drinking a lot. A million scenarios went through your head as you sprang out from under the covers, rushing to put on a change of clothes, holding your cell between your shoulder and ear.

"What happened Jack? Where are you?"

"I'm in jail. They said I could call someone so I called you. I know my dad is out of the state on a case, please don't tell him," he pleaded.

"Honey, I have to, he's your father. But we can talk about it when I get there. What jail exactly are you at?"

Once you were decent, you grabbed your keys and headed out the door.

"Fairfax I think- Oh God, Y/N, I'm so stupid, I don't even know why I was there. I-

"Jack, sweetheart. Don't say anymore, I'm headed to you now alright? Just sit tight."

He sniffled and let out an intoxicated hiccup. "Ok."

Hanging up, you dialed Aaron's number and put it on speaker as you got into your SUV, driving in the direction of the jail. The call picked up on the third ring and Aaron's sleepy voice mirrored your concerned tone from earlier.

"Y/N? Everything alright?"

"Jack just called me. I guess he's been arrested in Alexandria. He's fine, he's safe, but he did sound like he had been drinking. I'm on my way to pick him up now."

"What? Did he tell you what happened?" You imagined that he was doing the same as you, getting out of bed and dressing to catch the soonest plane out.

"No, I didn't want him to tell me over the phone. I can call you back once I get there and talk with him, I just wanted to give you a heads up."

"Thank you. I'm on my way as well." His voice was low and slightly gruff, telling you that he was pissed but trying to conceal it. You'd memorized all of his subtle tone and posture changes over the years of knowing him, having spent the better part of those years as one of his underlings before transferring units.

"Don't worry about it tonight Aaron, I've got it. You've got a case to solve."

Luckily, all of the lights were working in your favor as you had yet to hit a red, bringing you closer to Jack sooner.

"The team will be fine without me. I'll be there first thing tomorrow morning."

You knew there was no stopping him. He was as stubborn as a mule and you honestly couldn't blame him when it came to the fact that his son was just arrested for God knows what.

"And Y/N. Thank you. For being there."

You were glad he wasn't there to see the slight blush creeping into your face at his words as your voice spoke calmly, a strong opposite of what you were feeling.

"Of course Aaron. I'll always be there for you guys."

Your words lingered in the back of your mind after the both of you hung up, silently mocking your lovesick emotions. For years, the both of you had always kept your friendship that of which it was. A friendship, nothing more. As much as you may have wanted it to be something a little more...intimate. There were times you thought Aaron may have felt the same, by the way he looked at you just a second longer than necessary or how protective he'd get whenever he found out you were going out on a date. But he never voiced such sentiments to you, if he had any at all, causing you to bury your own.

It seemed to be the night that everyone was being arrested as you walked into the police station and towards the booking desk.

"I'm here for Jack Hotchner, he was brought in sometime tonight," you stated to the officer. She gave you a once over before typing into the computer, presumingly looking him up.

"Oh yeah. Looks like he was picked up from a neighborhood party for underage drinking. He's in the drunk tank. Hasn't stopped crying and telling everyone that his father is a FBI agent. That true?"

You sighed at the dramatics she described and sighed before answering. "Yes he is, and I'm Special Agent L/N, a family friend." You flashed your credentials, satisfying her interest and continuing on with the process of bail. 500 dollars later and a short phone call to Aaron to update him on everything, they delivered the still very drunk Jack Hotchner to you.

He practically ran into your arms, crying. "Y/N, I'm so sorry."

If you weren't such a sucker for the kid, you would've been giving him a very stern lecture on his reckless behavior. But you were a sucker and all you could do was hug him back tight and speak gently. "You're alright, I'm just glad you're safe. C'mon, let's get you home."

You thanked the cops and left the building, Jack following close behind obediently. Once the two of you were in the car and on your way back, you decided to have a few words.

"This can't happen again, Jack. You know that, right?"

He seemed to be fading in and out of sleep but was coherent enough to give you a nod of acknowledment.

"Just because you're not in jail anymore, doesn't mean there won't still be a punishment. You broke the law and your dad is not happy about that."

Suddenly at the mention of his father, his eyes sprung open in alarm.

"You told him?"

"Of course I told him Jack. He was planning on flying back the minute I told him the news but I managed to get him to at least wait until tomorrow so you can sleep off the alcohol and he can have some time to calm down. You're welcome."

He threw his head back, cringing his face, making you believe that he was gonna start crying again. "He's gonna kill me."

"Well I highly doubt that sweetheart but I'll be there just in case, to make sure the both of you stay calm, alright?"

He groaned in acceptance and you shook your head smiling at his childlike behavior.

- - - -

Using the spare key Aaron gifted to you a few months back, you helped Jack into his house and led him into his room. Flopping onto his bed and passing out almost immediately, you sighed before straightening him out and taking off his shoes, then covering him up with a blanket and turning out his light.

You knew he was fine to be in the house by himself, but still you stayed, taking minimal space on the massive sectional couch and covering yourself with a throw blanket, noticing how it smelt faintly of Aaron. It didn't take long for the sleep to find you.

- - - -

You woke up with a jolt as the sound of the front door closing echoed in the quiet house, sitting up and catching Aaron's eye. He seemed surprised to see you as he walked over to the dining room table and set his keys and briefcase down.

"Sorry I woke you. I didn't know you spent the night," he spoke softly, loosening his tie.

"Yeah, I didn't want to leave him here alone in the state he was in. He must've had a lot to drink."

A sigh escaped his lips while running a hand over his face, his expression looking tired and overworked. You could only imagine the stress he went through being a single father and Unit Chief as well as the toll it took on his mind and body. Getting up, you folded the throw blanket neatly and walked over into the kitchen, deciding to make the both of you a pot of coffee.

"I don't know why he's so out of control lately. Last week the school told me he's been skipping classes and receiving detention on a daily basis."

You figured Jack was still sound asleep considering that it was only 7 in the morning so there was no chance he'd hear the two of you talking.

"He's not out of control Aaron. He's just being a teenager. A teenager that lost his mother and barely sees his father, he's bound to act out a little."

You prepared the coffee, knowing exactly where everything was, having done these motions numerous times before. Some of your best memories with Aaron were ones where the two of you shared a pot in the late night and talked about anything and everything, just enjoying each others presence. You pushed away the momentary thought and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet.

"I just wish I knew what to do," he sighed. "He's getting more and more distant from me and I feel helpless about it."

You turned to face him, settling you hand on his arm, grabbing his attention. "Just be there for him. And tell him that. He'll come around eventually. He just needs to work through the emotions he's feeling."

He didn't answer but continued holding your gaze, a flicker of something behind his eyes that made you subconsciously hold your breath. "Thank you Y/N. For staying." His voice was soft- tentative almost. You watched his eyes glance down at your lips momentarily, the air now thick with tension. You stood there frozen as he took a small step forward, bringing his body closer to yours and his head tilting down to compensate the height difference.

"Aaron.." you whispered, his name almost spoken as a warning, worried that if he crossed whatever boundary there had been, he'd regret it and that would be the end of your friendship.

"Am I reading this wrong?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for an answer. He didn't lean in any further though. Didn't make a move to kiss you but his close presence was plenty. You could smell the cologne he would wear every once in a while, making your head dizzy.

"I just don't want you to regret this later on," you admitted to him, fearing he's end up agreeing with you. Instead, to your surprise, he reached a hand out to hold your cheek in his hand, making your eyes flutter shut briefly.

"The only regret I have is not doing this sooner." He leaned in, capturing your lips in his which you were more than happy to reciprocate. The kiss was everything you had dreamt it be. He was gentle, loving almost, in the way his arm came around your waist and slowly pulled you in. There was no rush, it was just you and him in the quiet house, everything else forgotten about, including the teenager who had unknowingly left his room to walk right into the living room, seeing everything.

"It's about time," he interrupted, making you practically jump away from Aaron.

"Jack." Your response was breathless, Aaron succeeding in taking it away seconds before. "I wasn't expecting you to be up so early."

You turned to step away from Aaron, which he allowed, but still kept his hand resting on your waist, a small knowing smirk on his face.

"Just because you were right about this, doesn't mean you're off the hook," Aaron said, making Jack roll his eyes lightheartedly. You spun to Aaron with a look of shock.

"Have you two been conspiring about me?" You were surprised of course, but also flattered that Jack felt so comfortable with you to talk with his father about his romantic feelings towards you.

Aaron shrugged his shoulders in admission. "Maybe just a little bit," he said, the tiniest of a blush creeping up his neck. "I just wasn't expecting for it to happen this morning, especially after all the chaos."

"Which I'm totally sorry for, Y/N. Thanks for coming to get me," Jack added. You walked over and brought the boy in for a tight hug that he pretended to not enjoy but eventually gave up and hugged you back. "I'm just glad you're safe and hopefully learned a valuable lesson," you spoke, pulling him back and giving him a once over. "Also, how are you up at 7 in the morning? If I had as much to drink as you looked like you did, I'd be dead till at least noon."

He chuckled and ran a nervous hand through his hair, something you noticed Aaron also did on occasion. "This wasn't my first time, Y/N. I've been drunker."

You gasped and looked over at Aaron who could only shake his head in disapproval but ultimately already knowing about it.

You turned back to Jack. "Well this time, it won't be just your father in charge of punishment. I'm gonna have some say in it as well. I know Spencer has an upcoming lecture on the Theory of Relativity this week. I think it'd be very informational for you."

The horrid expression on his face was exactly what you were looking for. "What?! No! Please, not uncle Spence's lectures. I'll do community service, babysitting, anything but that," he pleaded to his father, who threw his hands up in surrender but didn't lose the amused smile.

"I think it's a great idea. Consider that the beginning of the punishment as well. Now go get showered and dressed, you're gonna come with me to run some errands."

Groaning in disapproval, he did as he said and walked off down the hall to his room. You felt the warmth of Aaron come up behind you and pull you in, resting his head on your shoulder, arms around your stomach. "Good idea on the punishment," he praised, kissing your cheek.

You chuckled while moving to face him, a look of jest in your eyes. "Oh, you're not in the clear either, mister. I think I deserve a proper date after the secret scheming you and Jack have been up to."

The gaze of tenderness and affection glimmered in his eyes gave you butterflies and the ultimate need to pull him in for another kiss. You honestly felt like you could kiss the man forever.

When you both pulled away, he spoke. "How about tonight? I'll pick you up from your place around 6? You could wear that dress you've been talking about wanting to wear."

A big smile appeared on your face at his words, excited for the evening. You stayed just a little longer, sharing a cup of coffee with Aaron, giving some drunk advice to Jack before you all parted your separate ways. Knowing you'd see the both of them so soon, filled your heart with joy and the smiled never faded the whole drive home.

[gotta-winwin]

OT13 Reaction -- when you ask them for an absurd amount of money as a prank

SCOUPS:

will transfer you the money, no questions asked. unless it's like an insane amount of money - like enough to buy a car - then he'd be concerned and ask why you need it. are you in trouble? are you being blackmailed? what can he do? he's ready to assist you in anyway possible and will be sulky when he finds out it's a prank. relieved, but a little sad that you'd even feel the need to test his loyalty to you.

JEONGHAN:

his immediate reaction is no. have you guys seen that interview where one of the members (i think it was dino? mingyu? my memory is so bad) said that jeonghan doesn't play when it comes to money and it lowkey stingy? yeah that. he'll definitely be hesitant and might even just flat out say no. extremely proud when you reveal it was a prank all along. i knew it was a prank, baby~ the student can't fool the teacher~

JOSHUA:

his immediately worried something terrible has happened. it's uncommon for you to ask him for money, usually its small enough sums that you don't even have to ask - you have his card anyways. stressed and annoyed when you tell him its all a prank. ai~ you know my weak heart cannot take you stressing me out.

JUN:

a little confused why you're asking him for money. he's the type to not catch on, you being in danger isn't the immediate thought when you ask him for 300 thousand dollars. will not react when you tell him it was a prank, the request for the money hasn't even properly computed in his head yet.

HOSHI:

he's going to complain he doesn't have that much money even though we all know he does. he'll agree to transfer it to you, but will whine and nag the whole time that this is his hard earned money! he loves you but why are you taking it away! another type to get sulky when you tell him its a prank and you don't actually need the money.

WONWOO:

ummm...why? he'll ask a shit ton of questions before agreeing, he needs to know why, when, what, where, who? all the details. this is his money after all, he needs to know where its all going. it gets to the point where you give up, just telling him its a prank cause his questioning isn't making it fun anymore. he tsks and asks if you have too much time on your hands to be pranking him.

WOOZI:

the money is in your bank account before you even finish asking. he's lowkey surprised you haven't asked sooner, he's always open with how much he's making and constantly tells you he'd just rather you guys have a joint bank account so he can spoil you. refuses to let you return the money once you admit its a prank. he makes more than enough anyways.

MINGHAO:

another one that's immediately worried. money's never been a topic you guys have ever talked about so he knows there must be something wrong. asks a boatload of questions trying to make sure you're okay and not getting scammed online or something. ends up just chiding you for even falling into a trap where you need that much money and narrows his eyes at you when you tell him its a prank. he thinks you're crazy and has too much time on your hands.

DK:

poor baby's scared. sure he makes a lot of money but he's never needed that much. eyes are popping out of his head when you tell him the sum of what you need. he agrees, of course, anything for you, but his hands are shaking as he reaches for his wallet. dramatically flops onto the floor when you tell him its a prank, begging you to never do that again - he might be rich but in his mind he's got like 5 cents in his bank account.

MINGYU:

blinks. pretends to think about it, but really he's been waiting for this day. the only possibility in his mind as to why you need the money is only for good things, and who is he to not spoil his baby? begs you to take his card anyways when you tell him its a prank. it's literally the only reason why i work, baby. just take my card.

SEUNGKWAN:

he's dramatic, screeching about how that's an insane amount of money and that he wouldn't even drop that kind of money on himself- and he loves himself very very much! calms down and genuinely sits your ass down to ask why you even need it. feels extremely betrayed when you tell him its a prank and vows to get revenge.

VERNON:

he sighs. he knows this trend and he's not having it. baby, you know i'd do anything for you right. you've got me like wrapped around your finger. you literally don't need to test my loyalty. apologizes when you get sulky over him already knowing the prank and offers to let you try again - this time he'll play along. ohmygod that's a lot of money are you being blackmailed? shopping in the black market? getting us a house in Bali? shrugs when you complain about his reaction being ingenuine and over the top. there is only so much he can do.

DINO:

his jaw is dropping at how large the sum is. yeah, he's got that money, and he'll show you his bank account just to prove it. but he'll start listing out what everything is for. that sum's set aside for our house, that one's to send our kids to school - we never said how many we'd have but i set aside enough to four university tuitions, and- you'll cut him off cause he's going to make you cry with how thoughtful he is. scolds him for ruining your prank. prank? he's confused. what do you mean prank? he got so invested in telling you everything he's saved up for your shared future he kinda forgot the original question.

[flippinpancakes64]

The Cullens with a reader that REALLY loves to nap/sleep?

This was on my list of ones to do so thank you! And I hope you like it!

Edward:

He got really concerned for a while

There was a period of time, before he started stalking you at night of course, where you would go hours without responding to his texts

He got so anxious one day that he just showed up at your window to make sure you were alright

And you were asleep

Pretty much every time after that if he wanted to know where you were he knew that's what you were doing

When you start dating and he can come and go more freely he'll cuddle up next to you and just watch (creepy)

But then it gets to a point where he gets a bit scared

You guys are out and about and you mention that you're tired and just want to go home and sleep

Or instead of watching a movie with him you'll just drift off

Genuinely asks Carlisle if this is normal

He needs reassurance from both you and Carlisle that this is normal and that sleeping is just fun <3

Alice:

Before you two start dating, when you guys are still just friends, she finds it odd that you won't hang out with her

Like wdym you don't want to spend a whole Saturday shopping

Also finds it odd that you don't want to text or call all the time

She just straight up asks you tho

Almost doesn't believe you when you say it's because you're napping/sleeping

"Okay yeah I toootally believe that you sleep from 7 pm to 4 pm"

But it's true

When she eventually makes her own Edward-style trip to your house in the middle of the day and sees you sleeping she has no choice but to believe it

When you guys start dating she gets a little more annoyed

Like come on you are her partner dammit why are you sleeping all day?

She makes the mistake of waking you up one day

That doesn't go too well

She doesn't do that again

She gets a bit huffy when you sleep all day but just make it up to her by letting her drag you wherever she wants one day and you're good to go

Jasper:

Your relationship is slow to build

You start off only seeing each other in school

Then talking a little bit

Then hanging out at school

Then talking a little bit after

Then hanging out a little bit after

So he doesn't really question anything when you don't talk to him most of the time

He just thinks you don't want to move on to being that close yet

But once you guys start dating, that's when he notices it

For a while he thinks it's just him because he's so used to Alice literally always being there and ready to talk to him

But when he goes over to your house for the first time to hang out and you just take a nap

He puts the dots together

He doesn't mind one bit

He's quiet after all

I feel like he would appreciate the peace since his house is never quiet

And not to mention that he can feel the tranquil and calm emotions radiating from you

You bet your ass he is cuddling with you

He just likes to lay there and close his eyes

Rosalie:

She was pretty quick to notice tbh

I feel like she's one to pick up technology pretty quick

So she's a texter

And she notices that you go dark at like 4 pm every day only to respond again sometime in the middle of the night then stop again

She gets a little annoyed

She thinks you're ignoring her

She gets petty for like, a week

Won't acknowledge you in the hallway or answer your texts

It's only when you basically have a breakdown in front of her that she tells you why

And then you have another breakdown explaining that you're literally just sleeping

So then she feels bad

Cue a week of apology gifts

After that though she starts coming over to nap

Sleep sesh

She brings over a book or a movie to watch while you sleep next to her

She loves it

Like Jasper she loves the tranquility

Emmett:

He'd also notice pretty quick that something's up

Like wdym you don't want to go throw rocks at cars or whatever he does for fun

He would just take it as you being a whimp tho

"You don't want to hang cause you're scared of *insert random thing* right?"

You give in one time and go do something with him and he notices like an hour in that you are yawning like crazy and walking super slow

You explain that this is your regularly scheduled nap time and then it makes sense to him

Unfortunately tho he's not one to just lay around

Something's gonna have to change

Maybe one day dedicated to doing what he wants and then the rest you can sleep as much as you want

Compromise :)

Esme:

Honestly she's down

When you first come over she thinks she's prepared for anything humans would need but then you start drifting off at like 4 and she's like "oh"

Instantly is putting you in a room and telling everyone to be quiet

Is a little concerned but also she thinks it's cute

And it makes her lowkey miss being human and being able to take naps too

LOVES laying with you tho

Will grab a book and lay there with you for hours

Chill queen

Carlisle:

He's concerned

He can't help it

He sees people come in multiple times a day every day with similar symptoms and rarely do any of them have nothing wrong

Once he has learned the extent of your sleeping, he takes you to do some testing

Not even an at-home consultation

You are going into the clinic no ifs, ands, or buts

When he finds that there's nothing wrong though, he'll ease up

Just a little

Is still super concerned though

Will check up on you every once in a while when you're sleeping

He likes spending time with you though

His favorite thing is if you take a nap on the couch in his office

He loves just having you there while he does paperwork for the clinic

Vampire! Bella:

She remembers naps all too well

And she misses them too

Even though she loves being a vampire she does miss getting to rest and disappear from the world for a couple of hours

She will never ever wake you up

Unless there's like an emergency or something

Loves to chill

Again, would be content just reading a book or drawing while you're sleeping

Would like to cuddle too

She likes the warmth and the comfort

Might even convince someone in the Cullen house to buy a nice bed for when you come over (if she doesn't already have one)

[luvyeni]

( reaction ) how you met yandere enha ! ୨୧ 一 엔하이픈 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ the first time you've ever met enhypen ヾ

yandere!엔하이픈・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ ‎ wc ・ ‎n/a ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. hi again hhh i was wondering if you could do like a backstory for how yan!enha met oc? Absolutely love your yan fics btw! ^^

「 ୨୧ authors note 」

﹙ 𐙚 : jungwon﹚ .ᐟ

at school , you were the new girl and he was the class president so you trusted him easily, letting him guide you around on your first day , he even offered you a seat at the table he was sitting at. you sat with him everyday growing closer, he could tell you were developing a crush on him and that's exactly what he wanted, all he needed was you to confess and that's when his plan could really be set in motion: he could make sure you don't ever belong to anyone else but him.

﹙ 𐙚 : heeseung﹚ .ᐟ

what was supposed to be a one night stand from a dating website turned into you having a section in his closet , you just showed up one day and never left and you couldn't figure out how that happened and why no one ever called , heeseung knew you were so in love with him you didn't even notice him slowly removing everyone out of your life leaving space in your heart and head only for him.

﹙ 𐙚 : jay﹚ .ᐟ

you were a new waitress at a restaurant he often had dinner to discuss business with clients. you were the waitress waiting on them; he thought you were perfect, especially when you politely declined the advances of his clients he knew you would look perfect on his arms , so he made sure to leave you a large tip along with his personal phone number , you gladly accepted it unaware of the danger you just stepped into.

﹙ 𐙚 : jake﹚ .ᐟ

you two were childhood friends; he'd been obsessed with you since the moment he saw you playing on the playground ; you being a kid never noticed it , it wasn't until you two were teenagers where you started to realize jake was really into you , a little more than you were into him , but he was your best friend and you knew you'd grew to love him like he did you — turns out he loved a bit too hard and before you figured that out it was to late.

﹙ 𐙚 : sunghoon﹚ .ᐟ

you were the sister of someone he really hated you, at first he was doing only to piss them off , but then he actually started to fall for you , no more like grow unhealthy obsessed with you to the point even when his enemy found out about the secret affair and forced you to call it off it drove him mad, he was angry and we all know what happens when he's angry, what made him even angrier is he had to pretend to give a fuck when you came to him crying about it when in reality he with he backed over him a few times.

﹙ 𐙚 : sunoo﹚ .ᐟ

like jake you and sunoo were childhood friends ; but you fell for the boy first , and your relationship was actually good, he was one of the best people you ever known , of course he could be a bet overbearing and with did tell you he loved you 100 times a day and never got off of you when you slept together , he was just scared you'd leave him , you were you and he was no where like you , you had a reason to leave him , and he couldn't have that.

﹙ 𐙚 : ni-ki﹚ .ᐟ

the quiet girl in school no one talked to , ni - ki saw while he was skipping class like usual , you were sitting alone in the library reading , you were perfect, he wanted you and he knew he had to have you , so he followed you around , making sure you knew what he wanted every time , you thought he was cute , you eventually let him sit down next to you in the library , sitting there toying with everything why you read quietly next to him , sometimes you'd have to hold his hand to keep him quiet , you were so unaware that the reason everyone avoided him was because of how scary and dangerous he was and everyone was too scared to warn you cause then they'd have to encounter the boy who never left your side.

[acey-wacey]

Jealous of Their Tsum

Feat. Deuce, Azul, Jade

A/n: In honor of tsumderland 2!!! (though it took me the entire event to write it). Kalim, Rook and Lilia in the future if there is demand

♠️ Deuce Space ♠️

He gets along with his tsum though it's quite the troublemaker sometimes.

It doesn't have the same honor student drive that he does.

Though sometimes it gets into mischief, it's lack of proper inhibitions also make it bolder when it comes to you.

Deuce has had a crush on you for the longest time and never said a word because he was too scared.

His tsum however is not at all scared and has no problem launching into your arms.

You were initially startled by the little plushie that threw itself at you but once you realized it was Deuce's tsum, you giggled and let it bounce up to your shoulders.

It nuzzled the side of your face and you patted it's head affectionately.

Deuce --who had been running after the tsum to keep it from causing too much mayhem -- stopped short when he saw you cuddling with the little creature that looked so much like him.

"You're just a little sweetheart, aren't you?" You cooed at the tsum, squeezing it in your arms and holding it close to your chest.

Deuce couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy at the affection you showed the tsum.

Why didn't you ever hug him like that? What did Deuce-tsum do to deserve your cuddles?

"You are just so cute," you said as you pinched the tsum's little cheeks. The plushy bounced with happiness. "Almost as cute as the real Deuce!"

Deuce's eyes widened when he heard you.

You thought he was... cute? Cuter than the tsum even?

His jealousy was replaced with swelling pride.

He smiled to himself, knowing you weren't aware of his presence.

Maybe his dreams of confessing weren't so hopeless after all.

...

🐙 Azul Ashengrotto 🐙

His tsum had mostly been helping out at the Mostro Lounge, being cute and attracting customers.

Azul knew how good the adorable little plush was for business but he never expected to see you drawn to the crowds.

"What brings you to the Lounge on this fine day, dearest prefect?" Azul asked you with his signature charming smile.

"Everyone's been talking about the tsum that's working. He's just so cute!" you responded enthusiastically, looking to where Azul-tsum was filling up a customer's water glass.

Azul's perfect smile faltered for just a second, not long enough for you to notice.

"So even you can be tempted by our most adorable new staff member?"

"Seems so," you shrugged with a smile.

"I'll ensure it is sent to your table then," Azul smiled before turning away.

He secretly scowled at the tsum before walking back to his post.

He didn't hear you mutter "I can think of a more adorable staff member" before he left.

A few minutes later, there was a bit of a commotion in the dining area.

"What's going on?" Azul asked Jade when he saw the franticness buzzing around your table.

"It appears the tsum has attacked a patron," Jade said, though his smile was much too sly for that kind of news.

Azul was much too startled to notice the eel's ulterior motives.

He pushed his way through the crowd to find your table.

"I am terribly sorry about any violent behavior by our resident tsum. If anyone has been attacked in any way, I assure you, you will be reimbursed..."

You interrupted Azul before he could finish.

"Nonsense! I wasn't attacked so much as glomped by this little cutie!"

Azul couldn't tell if he was more startled by the attack accusations or the fact that his tsum was nuzzling itself into your chest. And you were cuddling it back?

Azul found himself becoming increasingly worried that his tsum shared the same feelings he had for you.

What if you discovered that he liked you because of his tsum? You would probably hate him and then he'd never see you again and all because of that stupid ball of stuffing!

First it was going to steal his job, then his crush. Sooner or later, Jade and Floyd would completely replace him with the thing!

Azul collected himself enough to take a deep breath and offer you a hand.

"My deepest apologies for this unprofessionalism. May I offer you a VIP seat while I get everything sorted with our clingy little waiter?"

You smiled and took Azul's hand holding the tsum against your shoulder with the other.

"I'm really not bothered but I'll never say no to a better seat."

While Azul walked you to your new booth, he put on a customer service smile just for you.

"Say, Y/N, you seem to enjoy cuddling with the little tsum quite a bit."

"Can't deny that," you chuckled and squeezed the puffball tighter. It wiggles its stubby arms with joy. "I've grown fond of the little fellow."

Azul's eyes narrowed slyly.

"I have a proposition for you, Y/N. You may cuddle my tsum as much as you like, with a few conditions of course."

"Of course," you repeated with a roll of your eyes.

"I don't even ask much of you," Azul continued as he summoned a contract with his magic. "Just sign on the dotted line and the tsum is practically yours."

You narrowed your eyes at the fine print before chuckling.

"For every cuddle Azul-tsum receives, twice as many must be returned to the original Azul," you read aloud with a smirk on your face.

"A tempting offer, is it not, prefect?"

You smiled and set the tsum down on a nearby table much to its dismay.

Before Azul could react, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"Very tempting indeed."

🍄 Jade Leech 🍄

You were walking peacefully back to Ramshackle from your afternoon classes when you tripped over something soft in the road.

You spit the dirt out of your mouth and looked up to see a mini Jade hopping around on the road.

You sighed and stood up, dusting off your uniform.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you, you little schemer?"

The tsum stopped its gleeful hopping to wink at you.

You laughed and squatted down to be roughly eye level with the plush.

"Well don't think you can indebt me to you. I'm a lot bigger than you after all," you said before realizing the irony. "Huh, that's funny, it's usually the other way around with Jade."

You continued on your way home but noticed the tsum still bouncing after you.

"What? Did Jade send you to collect a payment?"

The tsum shook its head, or at least it would have if it had a head. More like it just shook its whole body.

"Do you need something?"

Another shake.

"Are you gonna follow me all the way home?"

An enthusiastic nod.

"Just like the normal Jade. Can never take no for an answer."

You sighed and held out your hands to the tsum.

"Come on, let's get going. I can't have you tracking dirty stub prints all over my shiny nice desecrated wood floors."

The Jade-tsum hopped eagerly into your hands.

Before too long, it started to rain.

You groaned and looked at the little tsum in your hands.

"Guess we gotta make a run for it, eh, Jade-tsum?"

The tsum bounced in excitement.

You held it close to your chest and made a break down the dirt road to your dorm.

By the time you made it back, the tsum was stuck to you like glue.

"Come on, little Jade, I'm all wet and muddy, I need to take a shower!"

The tsum stayed stuck to your shirt no matter how much you tugged at it.

"Guess this is my life now."

After your fourth lap around the dorm, trying to dry off with a plushie attached to you, you got a phone call from the Jade's cell.

"Y/N," you answered tiredly.

"How fortuitous I was able to reach you, prefect," you heard Jade's easily distinguishable voice from the other line. "Would you have happened to see my little lookalike anywhere? I'm afraid it's gotten away from me and it's much too difficult to search in the rain."

"Yeah, actually. It's kind of attached to me."

"Attached, you say?" Jade's voice perked up with interest. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean literally attached. It latched onto me like Velcro and I can't get it off for the life of me which is quite inconvenient."

You heard Jade chuckle.

"That does sound quite characteristic for a version of me," he mused, making you wonder what the implications of that statement were. "I shall be right over to remove it."

About 20 seconds after he hung up, you heard a knock on your door.

"That was quick," you said as you got up to open the door.

Jade was standing in your doorway, soaking wet with a sneaky smile on his lips.

"How did you get here so fast?"

"Oh, I was already on the way."

You laughed as you stepped aside to let Jade in the door. As per his usual polite self, he took off his muddy shoes before following you to the dying room (it's in such poor shape you don't bother calling it a living room).

"Why'd you call ahead if you were already coming?"

"It is polite to give warning of one's arrival, is it not?" Jade cocked his head in fake innocence. "I would never wish to be unexpected."

"Jade Leech, you are always unexpected."

He smiled at you rebuff.

"I shall take that as a compliment," he cleared his throat and turned to you. "Now for the matter of our other unexpected guest."

Jade looked at his tsum double who was still firmly snuggled into your chest.

He bent down to look the tsum in the eye and you didn't quite hear what he said to it but from the way it released it's hold on you and scampered off to the couch, you assumed it was a threat.

"Thanks, Jade," you said exasperatedly though you knew there was going to be a catch later.

"I accept your thanks, prefect, but your payment would be much more appreciated."

You sighed and grabbed your wallet from your pocket.

"If you're going to make me work shifts at the Mostro, I would much rather pay you in cold hard madol."

Jade pushed your hands down and looked at you with a dangerous glimmer in his eyes.

"I'm afraid your little leech has not been removed, prefect, only replaced with a larger one."

You backed up as Jade approached you with a sharp toothy grin. Eventually, he backed you up against the couch and you fell over backwards.

"Poor helpless prefect," Jade tutted, looming over you, his dark silhouette outline by the flickering light of your ancient chandelier. "Who would be able to help you if a slimy eel decided to... latch on?"

Your breath caught in your throat as the wind was knocked out of you by a crushing weight on your body.

You waited for Jade to keep squeezing the life out of you but for some reason it never came.

Instead you felt the nuzzle of a much larger head into your neck.

Once you recovered from the shock, you smiled and began stroking Jade's hair.

He growled under your touch.

"Mine."

...

☕Buy Me A Ko-Fi! ☕

[yuvany]

好爱 ─── LOVESICK

First time speaking with 𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 after only seeing them from afar. . .

OT7 ENHYPEN x fem!reader CONTENT / WARNING(S) fluff + awkward + non!idol AU + rushed + not proofread WORD COUNT 2.2k CHECK MARK.ᐟ

reblogs + feedback always appreciated !!

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

You had always admired Heseung from afar. The second you heard he'd be performing at the music evening, you had told your friends that you'd attend the festival. You always kept this to yourselef, not having the courage to speak to him face to face like many other girls. You shared a class with him, he sits on the other side of the classroom, but his popularity manages to attract many people over, and that helps you listen in on their conversations. You start getting annoyed when the only thing you hear is the sound of forced high pitched voices asking him for his number, but thankfully the bell comes in rescue. "We soo look forward to the show later!" They coo before finally leaving. You heave a sigh that had weighed your chest down for far too long. ─── ( more under the cut )

"Why are they so annoying!" You complain to your friend who hums alongs your rant. "Bla bla bla and bla...Get lost!" you mock, you know it's wrong, but your blood just boils as you recall that moment. How could Heeseung even bear with this every single day? "Well, I might know something you don't." You beg for her to spill the beans, and it comes to the point you're practically on your knees begging for the information. "Heeseung apparently needs a duet singer for the show tonight, and do you know who I think is perfect for it?" You shake your head in an instant, realising she meant you. "No!" "If he asked, you'd say yes instantly." She sighs. Your friend pulls up her phone, and you're curious what she's doing, but as you attempt to peek over the table, she hides her screen. The sound of your own phone distracts you, and as you pick it up, you see a message; "Heard you're a singer, wanna help out.// HL" You look up and see that your friend is grinning from ear to ear.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

Jay was a gentleman who had earned his title as the Sweetheart of Hybe Academy. People didn't necessarily drool at him every chance they got when they saw him in the classrooms or in the corridors, but everyone knew that he was handsome and that many people whispered behind his back about their small crush on him. They rarely made their confessions because Jay was also known as the 'coldhearted', because he had made it clear to everyone that he did not want to engage in any romantic relationships.

One Saturday morning, you were out with your cat in the backyard because the weather was nice; a mix of the sweet sundrops of summer and a mix of the chilly winters thet were soon to come while your attention was on the cat running around the yard, trying to catch the toy that you were running around with. Unbeknownst to you, and unluckily, a dog was taking a walk with its owner right outside your door step. The dog barked, and your cat got scared for its life, and it got even worse when the dog had acknowledged your pet's presence becaue it continuously barked causing your cat to run up a tree nearby. The dog owner quickly apologised before running away from the scene. You tried to desperately get your cat down, but she was too scared. You were close to calling the fire brigade, but Jay walked by and asked, "What had happened here?" You tell him what happened and he says, "Let me help you, y/n." Jay steadily climed up the tree and called for your cat to return, which it did after not much persuasion. "You're better at this than me." You chuckled.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

The guy who was captain of the football team. The student who was always with his friends and never with anyone else. Sim Jaeyun, or what he likes to call himself; Jake. Your friends hated his guts for only focusing on sports, but you didn't mind, and neither did the rest of the school. Lately, he had been practicing for longer after school, and even come early before school to practice, and he still had energy for the team practices. You admired him for his presistance.

"Do you know why Jake is practicing so much?" You asked your friends in the hallways. "How would I know?" one friend snarled. "I heard there's a competition soon." Another one replied. You thought about it, and then you remembered, your teacher had asked some people from your year group to help the team, including you, and you had totally forgotten. Hours turned into days, and now the game had begun. You were forced to be there and help hand out water bottles and towels with other classmates, but your eyes were occupied by Jake running around the court. His hard work and long practice hours really paid off, this looked so easy for him. During half-time, he returned to the booth, and was closest to you, so, you naturally handed him a clean towel to wipe the sweat that dripped down his face, and a water bottle for refreshment. "How do you enjoy the game?" he asked, and you couldn't be honest with him, because that would offend him, so you said, "It's cool." he nodded and then grouped with the rest of the team. The second half was complete resulting in the game ending and the results were that your school had won. Jake approached you again and asked you, "You seem nice, I was wondering if I could get your number. Freinds... so we could be friends."

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉

It was obvious that Sunghoon was popular and good looking. Girls would have heart eyes when they saw him, their eyes glued to his face whenever he walked by in the corridors. Sunghoon acted as if this was normal for him, like he grew up in this environment. Whatever he did, never surprised anyone, but there was always one thing everyone wondered; Why did he not have a girlfriend yet? When asked this question, he'd say that it was becaus he was waiting for the right timing, but when asked another time, he said that he already had his eyes on someone. This caused everyone to go ballistic.

You had one secret you hated to admit, and that was that you might be slightly infatuated with Sunghoon. In the lunch hall, you hoped to see him, but he was never there, you always thought that he went out of campus during that period to eat at a restaurant or something. That thought was erased one day when you decided to not be in the lunch hall, and went up to the school roof for a change. And because it was too packed. When you opened the heavy door, you saw that familiar black hair and lean figure. It was Sunghoon, and it was too late to turn back around because he had already turned to face you. "I'll go...if you want." You said awkwardly. "No need, company would be nice." His smile was bright and wide. It was silent as you sat opposite from him, and you decided to ask "hey, let's go secret for secret. or question for question" Sunghoon nodded and motioned for you to start. "Why are you up here and not with you friends?" "because this view is able to show me someone I'm interested in." He looks down at the yard, and that specific place that you always go to with your friends, which now was empty, but as you look up, you see his eyes connected with yours.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

The guy who helped whenever he could and whatever. During breaks, he'd help the nurse because he felt bad for the lady. Sunoo was a kind student, students and teachers adored him. His smile was something that could light up a room, and that's something you wished you could do, because if you smiled the way he did, you'd never ever frown. There was only one opportunity for you to see him because your schedules were too different. When he had break, you had a lesson, and vice versa. This was unfortunate, and yet you found yourself attached to him.

PE was your least favourite subject, you hated both the theoretical and practical parts of it. Today though, you feared for your life. It was football. Last time, someone kicked your shin by accident and the area was bruised an awful purple and yellow the next day. Since that day, you tried staying away from the ball which only made the teacher yell at you to get closer to it. When this happened today, your focus was elsewhere and the ball came flying at your face and hit you hard. Everyone gathered around you, and the teacher told you to meet the nurse with a sigh. You slowly made your way there, and when you walked inside, the nurse was nowhere to be seen, so you laid on the couch and closed your eyes. "hello, what happened to you." It was Sunoo, it was his voice. "Got this football flown at me." You say, trying to sound sad even though you felt estatic on the inside. " I hate sports. The nurse isn't here, so let me grab an ice pack." he says, and rushes out. He returns and hands you the cold pack, you sit up and when the cold hits, you're ready to go. "Shouldn't you like...rest for a while...here?" He asks, holding you down by the wrist. "uhm...sure, why not." You awkwardly giggle.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

Smart, polite, and handsome were words regularly used to describe Yang Jungwon, the student president. There was no jealousy and there was no competition amongst him and other students, only friendship. During Valentines you'd see how many love letters were shoved inside his unfortunate locker, each paper looking crumbled at the force and desperation to push it inside. You felt bad for them because you knew how Jungwon didn't care about them, he'd put them in a plastic bag and then take them home to most probably thow out without anyone knowing.

One day though, Jungwon doesn't appear in the first lesson and even the teachers are confused. This was unlike him in many ways. Today, the teacher had even asked if he would be kind enough to help him after class with sorting and going through all student documents, and it was visible that he was hoping for Jungwon to just be slightly late, becuase rather late than never. The clock ticked and tacked, each second feeling longer than the last. Eventually, the bell rang and the lesson had ended. You felt bad for the teacher and offeredd your help. He smiled, and told you what to do before he rushed out to get a coffee. Not long after, you hear footsteps outside the door again, maybe you were wrong. "Hello?" You hear a boy pant out as he shoves the door open. Jungwon is just as surprised as you when he walks in. "y/n, what are you doing here?" He asks confused. You tell him your tale and he chuckles. You ask him as well, becuase you missed him, and he tells his tale. "Let me help you with this." He says, as he picks up the stack of papers, his fingers brushing against yours.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

Riki was known for his hard looking exterior but soft interior. People feared him, his seat mates feeling the chill run down their spines, but not because he was scary, but because there was something special about him, he was beautiful. You only knew him from rumours talking about a dance prodigy who dances smoother than waves, the boy that doesn't speak with anyone other than his friends. You had thought nothing of it at first sight, but the more you saw him, the more you were attracted to him. You don't know why, and that was a dilemma. If he refused to talk with anyone except his friends, how would you manage to get close to him.

It all seemed like a dream to you, to befriend him, or maybe more, and you tried your best to conceal your feelings. It all went according to plan until one evening during your walk. You heard the drum of footsteps nearby, and decided to check it out. You sneaked closer to the sound and eventually found youself hidden in a bush, tangled up in the branches. It was Riki. At firt sight, he was unrecognisable, then you slowly noticed how similiar he moved to the one in your school. His moves caught you like a fish to a hook, and your eyes gleamed with admiration as you watched him dance. As time passed, you forgot it was time to go, and that if you stayed any longer, you'd be found. Unfortunately for you, you had already stayed for too long. When you looked down at your phone, Riki turned around and found you, his eyes wondering who you may be, but then he recognises you from campus. A smirk spreads over his face as he waits for you to look up. "Hello, y/n." He waves your way, and you are dumbfounded. "You know my name?" You say, shocked, more worried about that than being exposed.

network tag ! @k-films

[hirsheyskisses]

When You're Sober.

RORONOA ZORO x READER (short)

Summary: Being Roronoa's childhood friend, he's declared for the world to hear how one day, he's going to make you his wife. As adults, you had assumed he moved on, but as it stands..

A/N: I've had this in my head for AHH so long. So I'm writing it before I go back to requests 🤣

"..are you going to stay this time?"

Child Zoro questioned you. You sighed softly, seeing the tears pricking at his eyes pulled your heart strings in ways the young swordsman couldn't even begin to comprehend. Kuina's funeral had just ended, and Zoro had immediately sought you out. You were a slightly older swordsman pupil, by 2 years to be exact, and Zoro had latched onto you recently, with Kuina jokingly teasing you of how much he liked you. Sure, 11 and 13 weren't too big, but to a kid, it was all the difference. Still though, you couldn't help but care for him.

"..no. I'll be staying at the dojo." You replied, watching him smile, just a bit. You were both still sad after Kuina's death, and you weren't about to leave the mossball all on his lonesome- and you'd grown to like this dojo, as had your father. You were certain you could convince him to stay, rather than travel to another.

"Good! 'Cause I'm gonna marry you one day, so I can't have you leaving!" Zoro declared tearfully, through his shit eating grin, and you quickly angled your head away and growled, "we're not getting married!"

It didn't matter how many times you defended yourself, he wouldn't let up. If flustered and enraged you to no end. No matter how many battles you raged against him, no matter how many times you had him panting and defeated, holding your wooden sword to his throat, no, none of it scared Zoro.

"I'm gonna marry you one day, (Name)!"

Sometimes, Zoro would even sneak into your bed. You realized they were mostly driven by nightmares. You'd hear him slowly open the door, sniffling from tears, and walk over to you. He'd prod your side before diving under the covers with you, snuggling as close to your side as possible. "I know.. you're awake." He'd mumble, wrapping his arms around you. You'd give in, wrapping one around him. "Yeah. Hard not to when ya sneak into my bed." Zoro snuggled a bit closer. "Wanna be close. That's all." You knew it was more. He trusted you. He even began to tell you about the nightmares, and despite yourself, You'd comfort him. Hold him until he fell asleep.

It grew increasingly difficult for you to be mad at him, especially not seeing as it had become almost a game- plus his wholesome and innocent smile was so damn adorable. You figured he'd grow out of it eventually, popping out of nowhere to declare his undying love. Until then, you grew accustomed to him popping out of closets, around trees and doors, and through windows and met his confessions through the clashes of your blades.

As it turns out, Zoro did grow out of it. The two of you had long since left the dojo together, became bounty hunters, and then became pirates on Luffy's crew. Around 16, and you being 18 is when Zoro had began to stop asking, the questions growing less and less often until they had halted altogether, his mind set on fulfilling his promise to Kuina, to become the world's strongest and carry his name to the heavens, where yours was to find the world's wonders, and the blades of your dreams. In fact, the last time he'd done so..

..Zoro had grown. He knew that, you knew that. He'd never let you live down that you're shorter than him, much to your dismay. You both had barely left the dojo, and Zoro had decided the first thing he wanted to do was drink for the first time. So that's what he did. You chose to stay sober, just in case.

What you hasn't anticipated was just how clingy he'd get when he was wasted.

"Hey.." you were leading him back to the hotel, when without any warning, he'd pulled you into an alley and pushed you gently against the wall. Zoro stared intently into your eyes and pressed himself a bit closer, you could smell the alcohol from his breath. "Fuckin- Zoro! What're ya doin?!"

"So cute.." he'd lean in and smell your hair, his earrings glinting in the moonlight, arms keeping you caged against the wall. "I've waited.. s'long. M' even of age now."

He pulled back a bit, towering over you, and you could feel yourself becoming a furious, blushing mess. Zoro himself was flushed, panting softly, lips parted ever so slightly.

"Wanna marry ya. Wanna marry ya s'bad.."

He slurred, and you flushed a deeper shade of red. His hand reached up to tuck some hair behind your ear, and you were frozen for a long moment. Until you finally came back to your senses.

Shoving his face away, you grabbed his arm and began storming to the hotel,

"Stupid mossball! Ask me again when you're sober!"

He never did.

Sometimes you missed it, how close you and Zoro used to be. Sure, you still had complete trust in one another, and always had each other's backs in battle, but it was as though you'd both spoken so much, that you no longer spoke. You'd still train, sometimes even nap in the others presence, but words had become rarer, instead communicating through looks more often than not, quick and brief. You were beginning to miss his voice.

"(Nameeeeeee).. hey. 'chu doin' all alone?"

Speaking of Zoro- he'd joined you on the rail of the Sunny. On the beach, the rest of the straw hats were celebrating with the locals, and said locals had given Zoro an alcohol like no other. Zoro, believing his tolerance was high enough to take it, decided to drink it during a drinking contest. For the first time in a long while, he was wasted. Again.

"Relaxing. It was quite the battle today." You responded, smiling at the swordsman. His swords rested at his side, and your two rested st your side.

"It was.. f'sure." Zoro agreed, leaning against the railing, "you handled yerself good out there." He placed a hand at the small of your back, smiling at you. "Saw the new technique.. should use it against me sometime."

You awkwardly moved away from his hand, laughing softly. "Yeah, sure, when you're sober." His smile fell ever so slightly, and you tilted your head in confusion. "Ya good there, Zoro?"

"No. I'm not."

He responded, and with little warning, he had you in his arms, practically squishing you against him in a fiercsome hug. "Ack! Zoro! Can't breathe!" You yelped, laughing breathily as you struggled to escape his wrath, deciding to worry about him after you could breathe again.

"....why ya talk ta Sanji s'much?"

Zoro growled, loosening his grip and grabbing you by your shoulders, suddenly pushing you away but still holding you, at arms length. "HAH? Fuck you mean?" "It means.. exactly what I'm askin'. You even ditched training the other day.. ta' talk to that damn cook. Why?" He sounded hurt, and you grew even more confused. "'Cause he's my friend? Plus, I've been taking some cooking lessons from him to help out." Zoro scowled, clenching his teeth and flat glaring at you. His grip was tightening to the point it hurt, and you tried not to wince, instead meeting his glare with one of your own. "What's your problem, Roronoa?! They put angry juice in your damn booze?" You placed emphasis on his last name, which only caused his grip to tighten more. You watched as he opened his mouth, then closed it again, struggling to find the right words to say.

"My problem is, is I wanna fuckin' marry ya, and seein ya with that damn cook pisses me off."

His voice was low, and he loosened his grip, instead opting to massage your shoulders. Yet again, you'd frozen, watching Zoro's glare turn into a pout as he dropped his head.

"I know I know.. ya dont feel the same.. but.. damn it, atleast choose someone better than him."

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You'd never seen Zoro look so defeated, watching him turn his head away. He hasn't given up, but he was about to. Your heart shattered in more ways than one. As his hands dropped from your shoulders, you knew one thing: it was now or never.. but what if these were just..

You reached out and grabbed his hand, staring at the ground. You couldn't look at him- not when he looked like a kicked puppy. "Zoro.."

"...yea?"

"Ask me again. When you're sober. I'll answer you."

Then, you jumped over the edge of the ship, landing on the beach, and ran to join the others, face beet red and guilt boiling deep in your gut.

He didn't. The next day you both went on as if nothing happened. However, after breakfast, Zoro vanished off the ship, alongside Nami. You'd decided to think nothing of it, however, part of you wished, so badly, that you'd just told him. But you had also decided that if Zoro couldn't tell you when he was sober, then it just wouldn't work.

I've loved him for years.. I thought he'd forgotten. God.. I wish I could turn back time, and accept him. I'm a fool.

"(Name)-chan? You're looking gloomy. That damn Marimo do something to you?! I swear I'll-"

Sanji had approached you, and you cut him off with a wave of your hand. "Its.. just a childhood subject came up. It's touchy." You responded, finally removing your gaze from the table to meet his gaze. Sanji sat across from you, "Wanna talk about it?"

"...not sure what good it'll do." You huffed, fidgeting with your hands. For a long moment, Sanji was silent. Which was odd, seeing as he was usually swooning over you, or whisking you away to teach you a new cooking technique.

"..things will work out between you two. Don't worry. He may be a lumbering fool, but he isn't a total idiot." Sanji said, a twinkle in his eyes. You glanced at him, "whatddya mean by that?" "I mean exactly what I said, darling."

You spent the rest of the day wondering what Sanji could've possibly meant. Working around the ship and making sure everything was ready to set sail in the morning, Chopper dancing around your feet as he helped and rambled about medical knowledge.

As time rolled around for dinner, you were moving to the kitchen with the others, laughing with Usopp at Luffy's antics, when all of a sudden,

"(NAME)! hol.. hold on." Zoro came running up behind you, with something held in his hands. Nami wasn't far behind, but she maneuvered around the two of you to stand with the others.

"Fuck.. never doin that again." He grumbled, dropping to one knee and staring up at you, chest heaving, as he pulled out a small box.

"..zoro?-"

"You.. you told me to ask again when I'm sober. So I am."

"Marry me."

He opened the box to reveal a beautiful black and gold ring. You froze, staring at it, and then at the swordsman, who was staring up at you, just as still as you.

He..

"...fuckin' hell Zoro. Yes, I'll marry you."

The grin that erupted on Zoro's face was beautiful as tears spilled from your eye, and your crewmates cheered behind you both as Zoro pulled you into his arms, slipping the ring on your finger.

"SUPPPPER! finally!" "Yohohohoho! I should play some music!" "Damn marimo.. You'd better take care of her!" Their congratulations fell on deaf ears as Zoro held you, burying his face into your shoulder. The growing wet feeling on your shoulder told you one thing: he was crying, too.

"..I love you. So much.. please, stay at my side for the rest of eternity." He whispered, voice raspy, and you melted into his hold,

"Always, and forever. I've always been yours, Zoro."

[hyuckmov]

haechan — settle down (rockstar hyuck) | part 2 of 3

wc: 18k (yay!) genre: angst, smut (18+ minors dni), a bit of fluff warnings: wet dreams, jerking off, fingering, oral (f receiving), protected sex, making out, praise kink, strength kink (? he's strong...) crying during sex, dirty talk, aftercare...? petnames (baby, princess), and ... names needs to be read after part 1 i think! a/n: shorter warnings list lmfao anyway.... i....this took me awhile but i really hope u enjoy this and the way it reads. let me know what you think and please be kind :) thank you thank you THANK YOU to every single one of you on my taglist and if you've sent me an ask, reblogged, or left a comment. i could not have finished this without u

haechan almost always knew of the hurt he caused — especially to you. 

he knew what he was doing each time he showed up around you at a party, love bites staining his skin and hair messy and wild. he noticed the way you recognised the perfume on him with a crinkle of your nose, or the slight flicker of sadness in your eyes when his phone would vibrate against the bedside table, wandering to the names on his phone. he could feel the way your shoulders tensed when he smiled blankly at you, track your movements as you looked away when he was cozying up with someone else. 

and most of all – he knew that beyond that, you couldn't go to him for all your hurt. and that was what would be most painful, the knowledge that everything you had to suffer was unjustified, feelings not tied to reason, because he never made you any promises.

haechan almost always knew of the hurt he caused — and he always hoped that his touch could be a good enough apology. 

all throughout rehearsals, when they took the trip to the venue, back to when he had woken up that morning, something had stirred in his chest. he was never nervous before shows, but this time he fiddled with his guitar mindlessly, wandering over to the bar and ordering just a few drinks to hopefully dull the way his heart was racing in his chest, alcohol burning a path down his throat. he picked at the way his hair fell over his eyes, re-doing his makeup before the show with the black eyeliner that he couldn't hold without thinking of you. his bandmates watching him carefully, not knowing what had changed. he wouldn't be able to tell them if they'd asked. 

it was only when the girl in the bathroom had stumbled away on shaky feet, leaving one last slick touch on his arm as a goodbye, when all his feelings that had ached in him that day came crashing down in his chest, that crushing weight he couldn't ignore each time he tried to breathe. 

you had kissed him — and it felt like a promise. 

it was this thought that now stung at him, as he watched the numbers on the screen of the elevator flick higher and higher. he had made his way to your apartment as if on autopilot, driving down streets now too familiar. he always knows the hurt he causes you — and he feels it now, like retribution, because even now he has no right to be angry at you. no right to blame you for his hurt, because while he had never made you promises, in reality you hadn't either. 

but the reality was he was here now, knocking on your apartment door. 

"y/n?" 

there's warm light seeping out under your apartment door, he can see all your shoes on the rack outside. jaemin's not home, but you definitely are. 

he knocks again, a bitter taste in his mouth. 

"y/n, i know you're home." 

his hand curls into a fist, and he hits it against the door, twice. he thinks he can hear something beyond the door, a clink of something like keys, so he raises his voice, the tone of it rough. 

"are you happy now?" 

mark has told him he gets vindictive when he's hurt or scared, has urged him to think before he speaks. 

"does it make you feel like you have the upper hand? standing me up?"

but haechan can't distinguish what he's feeling right now. 

"because i don't care at all," he spits, lies he'd never rehearsed, the alcohol mixing with thoughts he didn't even know he had, to inflict the cruelest hurt. "at least i know the girl i fucked didn't feel any different." his voice dips low, cold freezing over each syllable. "i hope you know even if you went, i still would've picked her. it didn't make any difference." 

the night is still, and quiet. his words seem to swell in the air, ringing around in his head. he stands in front of the door, head lowered, hand still lingering on cool surface, breaths dragged out of his lungs painfully. he waits for so long, that he wonders if he was speaking to no one at all — if you'd been asleep, if he imagined the sounds beyond the door.  

but then there's a soft click, and the door drifts open. 

the moment haechan sees you, he feels it like a shot to his chest, because something was terribly wrong. 

it's not just the tears running down your cheeks. 

your face is blotchy and red, dark circles under your teary eyes, your hair mussed up and tangled. you're wrapped in layers of clothing despite the cool summer night, your body still trembling with cold, and when you speak, your voice is so hoarse and broken that it makes goosebumps break out over his skin — and an achy tone he never wanted to hear from you ever again.

"it didn't make a difference?"  

his lips part. he tugs on his jacket, trying to to close it, to pull up his collar a little higher, but it's too late — your eyes are already reading the marks on his skin, drinking in every last detail of him. 5 minutes ago he had wanted nothing more than for you to open the door and see him exactly like this — lipstick smudged lips and fucked out eyes, the smell of fake roses clinging to each fibre of his clothing, the rips in his jeans tugged this way and that.  

and all at once he knew — you had wanted to go, and he just accused you of the worst thing. you were going to go, and now he was forcing you to look at him like this. if the trip here made him feel vulnerable and bruised, he knew it must have felt like this for you too on the nights he didn't ask for you — the two of you sharing feelings that you weren't supposed to have, that you couldn't justify.  

now haechan sees the way your face crumples, tears gathering on your waterline. you lift your hands to wipe them away, and it's like he can feel the way your chest shakes with wounded sounds and choked sobs, your fingers clenching into fists as you bite your lip to keep from bursting into tears.  

"y/n-" he breathes. "are you…is everything —" 

"s-so you didn't mean it? when you invited me?" you're trying to steady your breathing. every second that passes where he's watching you fall to pieces in the doorway feels like it's searing into haechan's skin, the heavy feeling in his chest increasing tenfold with guilt. he swallows, as he watches you take a few deep breaths. "i thought… i thought it meant…when you invited m-me you said you weren't making empty promises —" 

"i wasn't." he bites his lip, taking a step towards you. "y/n —" 

but you back away. "i was going to go, haechan. i was really going to go –" 

"i know." he knew now. 

" — but i've been sick since yesterday, and it wasn't getting any better, i couldn't leave the house –" 

"why didn't you tell me?" he desperately wants to run away, but he knows it's worse for you. 

your voice is small. "i don't have your number."

it had slipped his mind. it was something so stupid, something so small – how he never wanted to give you a way to talk to him, or give himself an easy way to access you, didn't want things to be too easy. all of it had slowly built up to that feeling each time he glanced at his phone that night, clutching the lifeless device in his hands. 

the last thing he should do, if he ever wanted to see you again, is blame you. he bites back his question of why you didn't ask jaemin for help, wrapping his jacket around his body self-consciously, running a hand through his hair.  "i forgot," he whispers. hurt flickers across your face again. 

"i d-don't know why i thought this would be different." you wipe at your face, biting your lip again to keep from trembling. "i hoped that maybe, even if i couldn't show up, you'd come here and take care of me. when i heard you outside the door…" 

the words have a bitter bite to them, and you spit them out like you hate the taste in your mouth, hate every memory associated with his care. 

"i'll take care of you," he pleads, quickly, stepping towards you. 

he doesn't know what he expected, if you'd showed up. maybe he'd play for you, and leave with your hand in his. maybe he could have taken you in his car, or in his soft sheets at home. brought you out for a late dinner, sit with you and let you pry him open as you always did. or maybe he'd say nothing at all, and nothing would have changed – he didn't know. 

his touch has always been his apology, always his way of reaching you through the only sure thing the both of you wanted from each other. but the look on your face tells him that the brush of his fingertips against your skin is only cruelty. 

"you're fucked up if you think i'm letting you take care of me now," your voice is grating, rough on his skin. 

"but i-"

"you'll hold me like this? force me to stare at the marks on your chest? breathe the perfume that isn't yours?" your tone is harsh and accusatory. he takes it all. "what were you going to do, if i showed?" 

and for once, haechan can't help but be honest. "i don't know," he mumbles, and he sees the words hit you like a strike to your face.

"you knew i wanted more," you whisper. "you knew i wanted to be close to you, but you always…you always –" 

"wanted?" he asks, quietly.  

"you can't think i still want to know you, after everything. whatever person lies behind all that…" your tears have stopped, your voice unfeeling. the numbness in you mirrors his own. "i want nothing to do with him." 

he can't think of anything to say. he reaches out a hand, and for a moment you let his fingers graze your arm, fear and hurt in the way they curl around your wrist, begging you to hold on to him too. you're scaring him, and he doesn't know how to go back, but he knows he deserves everything you're saying to him. deserves the way you shake free of his hold and close the door, his feet stumbling over themselves as he backs away. 

you said you didn't want to know him, that you didn't know him at all. but he can't help thinking that's not true, because you knew him enough to know exactly how to hurt him through the walls, through the boy he pretended to be, right through his chest and past his ribcage, right into his aching heart. 

—

ever since your fever broke, your life had been quiet. 

you go to all your classes. you cut down on coffee by getting sleep at night. you take walks with jaemin around the neighborhood, falling back into old routines. movie nights, and grocery trips. he was coddling you, and you felt it every day — coming home to warm meals, the way he was more forgiving over little disputes. you didn't deserve it, watching him slip out of the front door quietly, camera bag slung over his shoulder. 

you didn't deserve it, because you ached to follow. 

some part of you was still trapped inside your room, heady and aching, desperately trying to reach him. needing his apology, needing him to recognise the way he hurt you. you couldn't look for answers in your memories, but you played each scene back in your mind like a looping film reel, letting images suffocate you — his jacket falling open, love bites marking his skin, all the times he's slipped from your grasp. and yet, other fragments come back too — the warmth of his hand on yours in the car, the slight tilt of his head as he brought his gaze level with yours, seeking you out when things got too much. his quiet answers in the dark, the slow smile that spread across his face that made you glow, knowing you'd made him happy. 

"he got off lightly," you tell jaemin one night, the both of you on the floor by the couch. ice cream and wine drip condensation on the table-top, and the both of you are too heavy with the rush of sugar and alcohol, the clock ticking in the silence of the room as you sit.  

"you just want to see him again," he'd replied, quietly. "don't you?" 

"i just wish we could have talked." your voice is small. you and haechan never truly talked, except for some nights in the dark, lying in his arms afraid to breathe, afraid of breaking the tenderness that swelled in the room, afraid of turning on the lights to see who you were holding in the shadows.

"and then what? you'd be together?" jaemin glances over at you, and the concern in his eyes makes you shrink back even more. you were supposed to be doing better. everything in your life was right, it was exactly the way it should be — but why did you feel empty? 

"then i'd at least have closure," you mumble. "i'm never going to get any answers unless i talk to him." 

a brief expression of discomfort crosses jaemin's face, but it's gone when you blink. 

"i just don't want you to see him again, and forget all the ways he hurt you." 

you don't say a word. both of you knew that it was something too likely to happen. 

—

it's dark in haechan's room. the boy liked it shadowy, black-out curtains drawn over the windows, the air cool from air-conditioning, an air humidifier spewing light blue mist in the corner. the boy sitting in bed had his guitar in his lap, picking at the strings quietly, his phone face-up on the bed next to him, recording his ideas. he was swaddled in a large hoodie, swallowing his frame, shorts riding high on his thighs as he curls into himself. 

he doesn't look up when mark shuffles in, closing the door behind him quietly, blinking as his eyes adjust to the low light. 

"jaemin's outside." 

haechan nods. "i heard you." his voice is a soft sound, boyish. mark has heard it enough growing up, that he knows haechan is scared. he knows haechan is waiting for answers, waiting for the verdict.

"he says he'll only continue to work with us if you stop seeing… y/n." 

the name trips in his mouth, clumsy. it feels strange to use it, especially around haechan, who knows you more than any of them do, like he's saying something he's not allowed to, a boy using an expletive he doesn't understand. haechan's body tenses when he hears your name in mark's voice, predictable, almost laughable — the slight tightening of his nimble fingers on the neck of the guitar, slip of his fingers on the guitar pick. 

"okay." and the boy goes back to playing. 

"you'll stop seeing y/n?" 

"yeah." mark moves closer to the bed, sees haechan's lower lip caught in his teeth. 

"haechan, stop." 

the boy shakes his head roughly, plucking at the strings a little harder. 

"what happened? what happened between you and y/n?" 

"i'll stop seeing her." 

"stop acting like i don't know you," mark mumbles, finally sitting down on the bed. haechan stills, as mark pulls the guitar away from him, his hands going limp as he lets mark set it down at the foot of the bed. "i hate it when you do that."  

"i'm sorry." a beat, then haechan buries his face in his hands, pulling at his features, before letting his arms drop down to the bed again. "could you…could you at least tell her?" 

"tell her what?" 

"that jaemin told me to stay away." haechan fiddles with the hem of his shirt, head still lowered. "i…i shouldn't be the one avoiding her. she should be avoiding me." 

"is there a difference?" 

"yeah." he mumbles his words, plush lips barely forming each syllable. "because i hurt her. i can't hurt her and then ignore her…that's…that's not right."

"so you want to keep seeing her?" 

"i just want…" his voice is hollow, and when he looks up at mark — the dim light in the room catching on the features of his face, mark can finally see the way his lips were raw, skin torn and bitten. his eyes, usually sharp and piercing, are puffy and swollen from crying, dazed pupils blinking up at him. "mark, i don't think i've ever hurt someone like this before."

mark wonders what he could have done, but he doesn't ask. "do you want to make it right?" 

"i don't know how." he swallows, throat bobbing. "i don't know if i can." 

"maybe avoiding her isn't the best thing…" mark starts, putting a hand on haechan's arm, but haechan flinches. 

"the band will kill me. jeno will kill me." mark opens his mouth to argue, but already haechan is leaning back against the headboard, head lowered and looking down at his lap. "i'll do it. i won't see her again."

"it'll be fine" mark reassures, softly. "in a few weeks, after a few more people, you'll forget all about her." 

neither of them really believed it. 

—

as jaemin sits on the couch — jeno sprawled on an armchair with jisung perched on the armrest, mark sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him, he thinks about how these boys have become his close friends. he fits in with them in a way he never has with his other clients — evenings spent photographing them, understanding them through the lens of his camera. cycling trips with jeno, bringing out mark's competitive streak as they drank in the kitchen, babying jisung and taking care of him when the other bandmates weren't around to do so. 

and of course, getting to know haechan — teaching him how to use a camera, chatting with him easily about the city. if jaemin was to be honest, haechan intimidated him a little with how guarded he was, every sentence he spoke to jaemin felt like it'd been turned over a million times in his head, each word careful and poised. he also disappeared for long periods of time, sometimes never there during parties. 

now jaemin knew what the time had been spent on. who he'd spent it on.

"we're really sorry." it's mark who speaks up first. jisung nods in agreement, while jeno looks on. 

"i don't need you to be sorry," mumbles jaemin. "it's not your fault." 

"still…" mark scratches the back of his close-cropped hair tentatively. "he mentioned it."

"what did he say?" 

"he didn't tell us everything," jisung says, voice hushed. his hair falls over his eyes as he ducks his head in thought. "mostly just told us to stay away." 

"did he sound like he wanted them to be exclusive?" 

mark and jisung exchange a glance, but it's jeno's voice that answers just as mark's lips part. 

"no." when jisung bites his lip, jeno raises his eyebrows, annoyed. "are you kidding? he just said he fucked her more often, and that we should fuck off." 

jisung looked wounded. "he didn't say that." 

"but that's what he meant." 

"mark?" 

jaemin calls out to the boy, bringing him out of his thoughts. mark was staring at his own hands, a frown creasing his face.

"haechan agreed," he says, slowly. your name lingers on the tip of his tongue as he says it, like he's tasting the sound, the unfamiliarity of it in his mouth. "i…i think i might know what's going on with haechan, but it's up to him to explain, not me." 

"so he won't see her anymore?" 

the words come easily to jaemin. he knew it was the deal he was going to make the moment he texted mark to ask if they could talk. he was willing to lose his growing friendship with the rest of the boys if it could give you peace, if all of you could go back to the way things were. 

he think back to how he found you — struggling to head out of the door the previous day, barely able to make it to the door, the fever burning up your brain and making your bones ache. he thinks of coming back home to you after he'd went to the pharmacy to get you medicine, slipping his shoes off at the door and immediately knowing that something had changed, from the tears streaming down your face. 

"how did this happen?" 

"he came to see me" you mumble, struggling with the sleeves of the thick sweater you were trying to pull your arms through. the moment you straighten, you wince as a dull pain throbbed through your head, hunching over again as stars blinked in your vision. 

"haechan?" 

he sets down the bag of medicine on the kitchen counter, picking up the thermometer and pointing it at your forehead. the light on the screen blinks red, and his eyebrows furrow, the displeased expression on his face only growing stronger. 

"why did you open the door?" he asks, slowly. "i thought we talked about this." 

"i thought…." your voice is scratchy, as pressure seems to rise inside your skull, pain that made your eyes tear up. it's laughable that you thought he would take care of you, and instead he ripped you to pieces. tears well up in your eyes again, and your lips part, only to let out a small sob. 

he grips onto your arm, gently but firmly, steering you back towards your room. you don't have any strength to fight back, it felt like the temperature in the room was at freezing point even though jaemin was only wearing a thin shirt and shorts, and the ache in your bones made every movement shoot pain through your nerves. even after lying down on your bed, swaddled in blankets, the dim light slightly easing the pain in your head, you were too weak to lift your head, stretching your fingers out over the blanket and crawling towards where jaemin's hand rested on the sheets. 

he held your hand and listened to you talk, knowing you needed to let it all out. he didn't judge, he didn't make faces. just listened with his eyes closed as you told him about meeting haechan, the way he pulled you away from everyone else and how you'd followed. he observed you quietly through his lashes as you sniffled, breaths breaking up your words. 

the story got harder to tell when you recounted moments of his tenderness — when he'd call you his, when he took care of you, when he'd promise to be harsh with you but never went through with it, the way his face fell when you cried. you stuttered and hesitated through it all, because you didn't know if any of it was real or just imagined.

jaemin knows he could have hurt you further — broken every last illusion, pierced through the image of haechan you had in your head. but he didn't have the heart to, so this was the best he could do — making sure it stopped. 

"it's done," mark nods, but he looks unhappy. 

jaemin doesn't feel the weight lift from his chest like he thought it would. he feels jisung move to sit next to him, a hand on his shoulder as he observes his face. 

"i'm really sorry," he mumbles, lips barely moving. 

"it's not your fault," jaemin replies, leaning back against the cushions, letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. 

—

haechan is dreaming again. 

except it's more memory than dream, the way you're laid up against the pillows, fingers tangled in his hair as he leaves kisses on your inner thighs. it's so vivid, the way you taste, the twitch of your muscles as you tense around him, the small gasp as he pulls away to sit back on his knees. 

"please-" you whimper, needy from being teased. scrabbling, you bring your knees to your chest, hands trembling as you hook them on your thighs, tears smearing your cheeks with a dewy glow. you were trying to keep your voice quiet, small sounds barely escaping your lips as you bit down on them, pleading with him through murmurs and barely coherent words. his shirt on your body crinkled everywhere from how he'd been grabbing at it, the long sleeves falling over your palms. it was straight out of a wet dream, which it now was, as you begged him to fuck you, your wet folds slick with spit and arousal as you bared yourself to him, pleading with him to sink into you. 

in memory, he croons. he gives you what you asked for — pressing your weight into the mattress as he pushes into you, feel you pulse around him as he goes in hard and deep, feel your body trembling against his. 

but in dream, he can be honest enough with himself to admit that it scares him when you cry. that his stomach twists when he hears you beg, like missing a step on a staircase, a second where he's rushing into nothing — not knowing if he'd made you like this, not knowing if he was hurting you. from the girl shaking against him, clumsy hands finding purchase on his shoulders, and you now — hips rocking into nothing, desperate for him. 

"i'm here," he whispers, gently taking your hands and slowly lowering your legs down to the bed. he kisses you until your breathing calms and slows, your hands now on the sides of his face, caressing his cheeks. he likes how you touch him as if you could ever bruise him, loving brushes of your fingertips, urgency making your fingers curl into his skin, hesitant scratches on his shoulders that your hands skitter away from. 

in dream, he pushes into you slowly, watching the way your lips part, breath caught in your chest, eyes fluttering closed as you take him in. wet sounds fill the room as he begins to move his hips, your face shyly tucked into his chest, your ankles sweetly hooked against his lower back as you melt together. the feelings in his chest intensifying the pleasure he feels from you wrapped around him. his eyes meet yours as you blink up at him, and it's so real — the way you glow against the sheets of his bed, eyes all soft and sparkling with tenderness. 

but then he wakes in the same bed: the feeling of you under him, the crash of his heartbeat in his chest, all of it hanging in the dark, a lingering tattoo on his body. 

—

so it's almost like a dream, when he opens the door to the stranger's bedroom, to see you slumped on the floor. 

the din from below echoes through the hall, the sounds of the overwhelming crowd seeping into the room and reminding him of why he was here. he'd been looking for a quiet place to be alone — the constant eyes on him making him feel self-conscious and jumpy. 

back at the apartment, jeno had said he wasn't being like himself, that he hadn't been himself in a long time, the memory of his laugh ringing in haechan's ears as he climbed upstairs. when has a crowd ever bothered you? when have you ever hated attention? 

he didn't know the answers. 

now haechan stands in the doorway, not believing his eyes. there was no way you'd known he would be here, alone. you're curled in on yourself on the floor, leaning against the bed with your knees tucked to your chest, eyes shut. your body is still, and for just a while longer he lets himself watch you for just a moment — drink in every single detail he'd missed even if it felt like teasing open his own wounds with fingers caked in salt. the rise and fall of your chest, your hair mussed up and falling over your face, the slope of your shoulders, your arms. 

and suddenly he's back in his bed, your weight the only thing he was sure of against his chest, drunk on the soft sounds you made, lips barely forming his name. 

you don't know he's here yet. he could walk away, leave you by yourself. but something in him told him he couldn't leave you like this in the middle of a party, barely conscious in a stranger's bedroom. before he knows what he's doing, before he can fathom the consequences, he's kneeling before you, slipping his jacket off his shoulders and draping it over your body. you reek of alcohol, stirring when you feel the weight of the leather on your body, your tongue numb and heavy in your mouth, eyelashes feeling stuck to your cheeks as you struggle to open your eyes. 

"y/n?" haechan whispers, choking on the sound of your name. 

"haech-" you trail off, fingers coming up to rub your eyes sleepily, the jacket slipping slightly. "haechan." it's the way you say it, like your tongue is too afraid to form the syllables, like something you can't bear to say. 

"i-i'm going to find someone," he mumbles, backing away from you, clumsily trying to get to his feet. "you stay here, i'll –"

"don't go-" the words almost get lost from the way you're slurring, lips barely moving, shaking your head as you reach for him again. your fingers slip on the sleeve of his shirt, before curling and holding on tight. "please don't leave." 

"i…" pain flickers over his features. he bites his lower lip, body moving towards yours instinctively, your hand crawling up his sleeve and grasping for his arm, fingers digging to the bone as you tremble. but then he feels your breath on his neck, and he pulls away again. 

"what happened, y/n? did someone hurt you?" he feels like a hypocrite. 

"no," you say, meekly. "i think i just had too much to drink." 

"did you come with jaemin?" 

you shake your head, nuzzling into him in a way that makes his heart pulse painfully in his chest. "i don't know anyone here." 

he still thinks he should get help from any of the girls downstairs. even as you meld yourself a little closer to him, he's almost certain you wouldn't be acting this way if you were sober. 

"y/n, i can't. please just let me call jaemin–" 

"want you here." you reach for him again, trying to pull him impossibly closer, fitting his body against yours. "don't want jaemin to see me like this." 

it dawns on him that besides jaemin, he was the only one you felt comfortable around like this. it wouldn't be the first time he's taken care of you when you were vulnerable or weak, and his body reacts out of habit — pulling you into his arms, his hands gently patting your back as you blink back tears in the crook of his neck. but it still didn't feel right, knowing he was the one who had caused this, and yet he was here holding you.

"let me talk to someone downstairs – i'll see if they can take you home," he murmurs. you bury your face deeper in his neck, shaking your head. "just 5 minutes, okay? i just need 5 minutes —" 

"don't want someone to bring me home," you rasp, and his gut twists painfully when i feels your tears damp on his skin. "i don't want to go back to my place. i want to go with you." 

"you're going to regret this," he says, softly. to him it's the truth you're not sober enough to see, even if it hurt to tell you. "you don't really want this, y/n." 

"is it because you want to find someone else?" your words are soft-edged, lips forming the words carefully, but it pierces him all the same. "is it- is it because you want to bring someone else home?" 

"no," he answers, quiet. "i haven't…not in a while." 

"so you just don't want to be around me?" 

his mind is racing, desperately trying to think of how he could help you, but his mind was coming up with nothing. that same feeling he always had around you — protectiveness intersecting with the ache in his chest everytime your eyes met his, all of it roaring in his ears, louder than the cacophony from any party. for all the times he's claimed he knew what was good for you, he's begun to realise that he has a terrible grasp on how not to hurt you. 

"you don't want to be around me," he corrects, but his fate is sealed when you let out a small sob, muffled against his shirt. 

and he takes you home. 

—

you watch him through your lashes, as he swipes a cotton pad on your face, cleaning off your makeup. 

"close your eyes," he mumbles, a slight pout forming on his lips from how hard he was concentrating, trying to be gentle with you. his touches are far too light, and you're sure your makeup is still on your face, but you let your lashes flutter shut anyway, feeling a featherlight brush against your eyelid as he holds it against your eye. dropping the used pad into a small bin, he brings a warm, damp towel up to your face, the material of it soft against your skin. 

"can you brush your teeth?" he holds a toothbrush up to your face, but he withdraws it once your hands come up to hold it, completely misjudging the distance and landing on his shoulders instead. "open," he coaxes, parting his own lips so you'd mimic him. he smiles fondly as you open your mouth wide, a hand coming up to hold your face in place. "good girl," he mumbles, and you preen at the praise that shines through your drunken haze, following his instructions to rinse out your mouth.  

there's a short pause. having brushed out your hair, removed your makeup and brushed your teeth, the only thing to do next was to get you to bed. 

your legs squeeze around his hips, your back against the mirror on his bathroom counter. "haechan," you mumble, tipsiness making you swallow your words. "don't…my clothes…" 

"i'll leave them on," he promises, ignoring the way your tight dress looks uncomfortable and unclean to sleep in. "don't worry." of course you don't feel comfortable around him, not after everything.

but for some reason, you're shaking your head, two clumsy hands closing in on one of his and guiding them to your back. "take them off. please–" you add, when he hesitates. "please help me."

"of course," he murmurs, familiarity sparking in his fingertips as they grasp for the zipper, a sense of dejavu in how he drags it down your spine slowly, your back arching slightly. you look at him, drink in the proximity like the first taste of rain after a heatwave — the pretty cut of his eyes, the way his pupils float upwards as he focuses on your back through the mirror. the round tip of his nose, and finally the plushness of his heart-shaped lips. it feels like reprieve, the ache in you finally soothed by the way his breath fans over your cheeks, a gentle balm on an open wound. you lean forward slightly into him as if drawn by a magnetic field, one of your hands coming up to trace the arches of his cupid's bow. 

"y/n?" you can feel his lips move, soft like rose petals on your fingertips. "what are you doing?" 

"you haven't called me baby all night," you blurt out. "or…or princess." your thumb dips to brush against his lower lip, before he's catching hold of your hand and pulling it away from his face gently. 

"i shouldn't," he mumbles, pressing a light kiss to your fingertips before letting go. "i can't."

your dress has gone loose around your body, and you push the sleeves off your shoulders with your hands, letting the fabric drop to your waist. you observe him, watching the way he swallows, throat bobbing when his eyes dart to your chest, lace draped over your curves. 

"haechan," you murmur, but then he turns, hands now fumbling with a pile of his clean clothes. he holds out a clean shirt to you, bunching it up at the collar to slip your head through it, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. 

"i want that one," you say, softly, pointing to a long sleeved shirt you'd remembered wearing before in the room he'd shared with the boys. something flickers in his eyes, his hands curling into fists before he picks it up. he's putting it over your head, the soft cotton hanging off your shoulders, his hands coming close to your body to guide your arms into the sleeves, until you can't take it anymore. 

"haechan, don't you want me?" 

his lips part, his hands stilling, slowly unfurling his grasp on you and placing his palms on the counter. "y/n…" 

"why aren't you-" you look up at him, biting your lip, your tongue too slow to form the thoughts your mind was racing with. "why haven't you touched me yet? do you not want me like this?" 

his heart splinters and fractures. you were so used to it — used to all his touches leading to kisses, kisses leading to him all over your body. "you're drunk." it's the only thing he can say. 

"i know what i'm doing," you fire back, but your words lilt and smear together. "ask me anything and i can answer you right now." 

but all he does is resume putting your arms through the sleeves, your limbs pliant against him as always, and soon you're completely covered up, and he can breathe a little easier. his strong arms grip your waist, and you're like a ragdoll in his grip as he guides you to stand, the dress at your hips falling, the shirt brushing the top of your thighs. 

it gets worse when he sets you down in his bed. in another universe, this might be a moment of bliss for him, something romantic and sweet in the way your body curves against his pillows, sinking down into them and blinking up at him hazily. but guilt still thunders in his chest, his vision split by lightning bolts of fear. you would wake up hating him. he would never stop hurting you. you would never want to see him again. 

your arms slide up his, grasping for him. "please," you plead, your voice small. "what did i do wrong? why don't you want to touch me?" 

"you didn't do any wrong," he murmurs, as he lets his weight sink into bed next to you, feel you curl up against him. just for a minute he tells himself — just until you fall asleep. your weight on his chest feeling like someone had doused his body with warmth, a comfort that made his eyes prickle with tears. "y/n, you're perfect," he whispers, the words melting into the dark.

"don't say that." he feels tears wet against the soft fabric of his shirt over his chest. "stop saying my name." 

"baby," he amends. "sweetheart, go to sleep." 

you hum. "haechan." 

"don't," he echoes. 

"what's wrong?" you mumble, your question heavy with sleep. 

he grips onto you tighter, holding you fiercely as tears cloud his vision. 

"i'm sorry," he says, his voice cracking. "i'm so so so sorry." when you don't respond, he nuzzles into your hair, freckling wet kiss on your forehead. "i'm sorry," he repeats, long after you've fallen asleep. 

—

you wake up to the sound of laughter ringing out against the walls. 

the room is as dim as it was last night — dark curtains drawn and the lights turned off. time seemed to have come to a standstill, you couldn't tell if it had been days or weeks or even months since you'd fallen asleep. your body ached, still heavy with sleep while your mind cleared — it had been a while since you've slept this well.

blinking your eyes open, you slowly sit up, feeling sheets warm and soft against your skin. you sit there, dazed, getting your bearings as you survey the unfamiliar room again. your clothes, folded on a small couch next to the window. your jewelry on the bedside table, your phone plugged in to the charger. 

the only thing you recognised was the long sleeved shirt unmistakeable on your body, the familiar smell of perfume and body lotion in every fiber of the sheets.

stumbling over to the bathroom, the warm light brings back every memory — the party, the drinks, stumbling upstairs into a room as your consciousness slipped away, and then haechan, haechan, haechan. haechan leading you out of the party, taking you home in his car, taking care of you. your fingers ghost over your forehead, where you swear he kissed you just before you woke up.

you turn off the tap. in the silence, there's another round of giggles, bright like a child's, and then —

"baby, don't move!" 

haechan's voice rings lighter than you've ever heard it, and the smile in it is evident. this is a voice without shadows, fondness in every lilt and inflection. with something like urgency, you dry your hands on your shirt, padding out of his room, hesitantly blinking into the sunlit living room. 

you almost don't believe your eyes. 

haechan is sitting on the couch, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and pink lips stuck out in a pout. sitting on the floor, cross-legged between his knees, was a little girl — her hands busy with a doll, while her own hair was being meticulously braided and arranged by the boy…whose head snaps up the moment he hears the creak of the door. 

"you're awake," he blurts out, and the girl looks up. 

"hi!" she waves shyly, leaning forward towards you, but whining as the motion tugs on her hair instead. "hyuck! it hurts…" 

his eyes finally dart away from yours. "i'm sorry," he murmurs, lightly massaging her scalp with the tips of his fingers. 

"you're making it messy —" 

"right, sorry." he grabs a sparkly pink hairbrush and combs through her hair gently, beginning to rebraid. the girl goes back to her doll, settling back down and quickly losing interest in you. 

his eyes flick up to yours again, the tiniest hint of blush on his cheeks. "did you sleep well?"

you nod, feeling like you'd walked in on something you weren't supposed to. 

haechan studies your face, a strand of hair falling from his grasp before he tucks it in diligently. "are you hungover? there were painkillers on the bedside table, i don't know if you saw…" 

"i'm fine," you croak out. 

"and there's breakfast on the table," he murmurs, ducking his head back down to focus on the impressive french braid he was attempting. he looks back up when he feels you staring, as if fixed to the ground beneath your feet. 

"is she…?" 

"this is my baby sister," he answers, smiling softly. "sorry, i didn't know she was coming over today. her kindergarten is near here so sometimes i walk her to school." and then, with a nod towards the table, "please eat — i made too many sandwiches." 

the girl smiles, mumbling softly to herself. "hyuckie makes the best sandwiches." 

you can see 'hyuckie' blush at that, his lips pressed together tightly to keep in his smile as he pokes the little girl's cheek softly, going back to the braid. you cross over to the dining table, feet shuffling slowly, reluctantly tearing your eyes away from the two siblings, watching the fondness in haechan's eyes. quietly pulling out a chair, you sit down and pick up a sandwich, holding it gingerly between your fingers. 

a hushed voice breaks the silence, and you turn to see his sister, cupping her lips against haechan's ear whispering so loud that her words fill the room. "is she your friend?" the girl asks, pointing her pinky finger at you, head tilted with curiosity. haechan's head tilts too, but his eyes wander over to yours as he hesitates. 

"yes, she's my friend," he says, slowly. "we're…good friends." sliding the hair ties from his wrist, he finally finishes tying off the braid, before giving the girl a gentle pat on the shoulder. "you can play for 5 more minutes okay? hyuckie needs to talk to his friend." 

her round eyes blink at you as she slowly gets to her feet, before tottering over to the window, where another pile of dolls lay. haechan clears his throat, before shuffling over to you and sitting down in a chair next to yours. 

although he adjusts himself to face you, he keeps his distance – legs drawn in under the chair, hands placed carefully on his knees in a way you'd never seen him do before. it feels like the space between the both of you spans for entire oceans and continents, an invisible force field that holds weight against your limbs, keeping you from leaning in, incapable of even moving your fingertips. 

"are you sure you're okay?" 

he looks at you — his expression soft like wax melting around a candle wick. 

"do you…do you remember how you got here?" 

you nod, taking a deep breath. "the party?" 

"i'm sorry that you're here like this," he says, quietly. "i didn't know you were going to be there, i wasn't trying to corner you, i swear." 

you nod, dazed. 

"are you upset with me? for bringing you here?" at the conflict in your expression, he adds on, hurriedly, "i-i know it wasn't the best thing to do. i could've called jaemin, or mark, or anyone downstairs…it's just that i didn't know…i didn't know if it would be okay–" 

" — i'm not upset," you cut him off, the pressure easing as you raise a hand jerkily to place it over his. "i believe you. thank you for taking care of me last night."

he exhales slowly, and when he speaks he sounds even more troubled than before. "you…you shouldn't thank me. you shouldn't thank me for anything."

his eyes dart over to his little sister, checking in on her, and the sense that you're intruding on something creeps up on you again. 

haechan had been right — there was so much of him you didn't know. you hardly recognised the boy sitting beside you, despite a vague sense of comfort and familiarity in the slightest traces of his expression, the look in his eyes, his thumb absentmindedly stroking yours. it scared you. 

you withdraw your hand, pushing your chair a little further from his, the scrape of it dissonant in your ears. "so, uh, i'll just wait downstairs for the taxi if you don't feel comfortable —" 

"taxi?" he looks at you, confused. 

"i…i should go now, right?" 

"i wasn't going to ask you to go," he says, his voice small. "i was…i was hoping we could talk." 

"talk?" you echo. after weeks of nothing? "now?"

"i mean, not right now-" he glances over at the clock, wincing. "but can you stay today?" 

there's a pause. you don't think you've ever been able to read him — you've spent days second-guessing every emotion you thought he had, the meaning behind each expression, whether he ever told the truth. but something about him like this makes you hesitate, made your breath catch in your throat. all the ways you've tried to learn how to be immune to his words and his touch slowly melting away, because that was your defense against the version of haechan you thought you knew before. 

"i'll understand if you say no," he says, quietly. "but i have things i need to say to you. please." 

you don't know what to do. 

"hyuckie?" 

you both turn. haechan's baby sister is waddling over, her fist clenched around her hair ties as the last remnants of the french braid unravel from her head. she sniffles. "it fell." 

haechan's eyes dart back to you quickly, before refocusing his attention away. "it's okay-" he soothes, taking the hair ties from her as he swipes the pad of his thumb on her cheek, brushing off the teardrops that have begun to spill from her lashes. his lips jut out into a pout, his head tilting to meet her gaze. "let's just tie it up and go to school, hm?"

"but i want it in a braid…"  

"i can't finish it in time," he says, gently, touching the strands of her hair. "i'm sorry. i promise, we'll do it next time, okay?" 

her lip wobbles. "but…"

"let me help," you say, suddenly. 

he turns, round eyes wide. "what?" 

"i'll do her hair. you still need to get her things right?" 

he nods, a little dazed. "really?" 

"i'll stay," you murmur, and you slip the hair ties from his loose fingers and sling them around your wrist. "i need to talk to you too." 

you can feel his eyes on you as he coaxes his sister towards you, the girl shyly hiding her face in your hands as you swiftly braid two pigtails down her back. he still watches you out of the corner of his eye as he packs her bag, noting the way you listen to her babble on about her days at the school, the way you help adjust the straps of her backpack onto her tiny frame.

he looks at you like he's never seen you before. you think you know the feeling. 

— 

the bed dips under his weight as he sits down. 

"hey," you hear him murmur, and you stir. his hair falls over his face, and he's changed out of his clothes, and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses perches on his dainty nose. it's foreign, and new…until he pushes back his hair boyishly with an open palm, flicking his head like a puppy after a swim, and the skip in your heartbeat feels all too familiar in your ribcage. 

"did you get her to school?" 

he nods. "i got us lunch too. and stopped to get groceries." studying your face, he leans in. "i didn't want to wake you up so soon. do you feel better?" 

you hum. the morning now seemed like just a dream — haechan and his sister, the breakfast sandwiches. he'd left to walk her to school, telling you to rest in his bed until he got home. now, late afternoon light seeps into the room through the open door, until haechan gets up to close it, once again sealing the room in cozy darkness. 

"may i…?" he lifts up the corner of the covers, and you nod, easing yourself to the side as he gets into bed, leaning up against the headboard, his eyes trained on his lap. you lay on your side, that same feeling — as if you couldn't reach out and touch him, as if he existed in a world of his own without you, slowly settling in your body like a familiar ache. 

but then there's a shift — and you can feel his gaze warm on your skin. you blink up at him, his pupils focused on yours, pools of the darkest molten brown sucking you into his world. he wets his lips with his tongue nervously, taking a shuddering breath. 

"y/n, i'm really sorry." 

your heart squeezes a little in your chest. "for?" 

"for what i said that night…when i thought…when you didn't show up." he takes another breath. "and for not trusting you, for going to your place after i...." his fists clench the fabrics of the sheets, twisting it in his hands. 

you bite your lip. "haechan —"

" — i'm not done." he swallows, voice dipping low. "you were right. i knew you wanted more, i always knew exactly when i hurt you. but i never tried…i never tried to change anything. i'm sorry." his hands reach towards yours for a second, but he hesitates, dropping them back on his lap. 

"what would you have changed?" you ask, softly.

"i could have stopped seeing you," he murmurs. 

you smile, sadly. "i'm not convinced that would have hurt any less." that was something you knew for sure. 

"and i don't think i could have stopped myself," he admits. 

"haechan," his eyes move to yours. "why did you invite me?" his breathing picks up, and you want desperately to comfort him, to curl up on his lap and soothe him, but you knew the both of you were afraid of what would happen if you touched. knew the possibility that you'd try to find answers in skin-on-skin, lips-on-lips, and the possibility that it would all be lost in translation again.  

"i'm sorry, –" he looks at you sadly. "i think i was just trying to get you to stay. i…" he chews on his lip, glasses sliding a little lower on his slender nose bridge as his head dips. "i regret what i said, but some of it was true. i don't know what i would have done, and i don't think i was ready for…for what you thought it was." 

you nod, cheek rubbing against soft sheets, thinking about what he said. "haechan, i don't regret not going. i only wished i'd done it intentionally." 

"yeah?" he whispers. the sound sticks in his throat. 

"if you hadn't found me yesterday…would you still have looked for me? talked to me? i'm not hurt that you didn't find me sooner-" you cut in, when you see the guilt on his features, the parting of his lips in apology. "time apart….time apart was good. i needed it to clear my head. i….i couldn't stop myself around you." 

he doesn't say anything, for a while. "jaemin came over," he says, slowly. "and he said i couldn't talk to you or he would stop working with the band and it was decided for me." 

"he what?" 

haechan shakes his head. "i don't blame him. i'm not going to pretend that i couldn't have still talked to you if i really wanted to. i'm selfish enough to do that, i'll admit. i didn't reach out because i didn't know what to say, and i didn't know what i wanted." 

"and now?" 

he closes his eyes. "time apart was good," he murmurs, echoing your words. "it gave me a chance to go back to a time before." 

your breath catches. 

" — but i couldn't. i don't think i can take it any longer. i missed you, y/n. i miss you now, even as you're here." 

"you miss me?" 

something bothered you about it, hearing him say those words. when he'd pulled you away repeatedly in the weeks you've known each other, when he came for you time and time again, was that missing you too? were things different now? 

"i miss spending time with you," he says, almost timidly. "not just…not just sex. everything. i know it's selfish…" his eyes blink open, and he pushed his glasses up, avoiding your gaze. "i didn't mean to pressure you to come back. you can forget i said that." 

he shakes his head, trying to clear it. 

"i just wanted to tell you i'm sorry for hurting you." 

you'd never dared hope for a real apology from him. some part of you expected, or even secretly wished, he would find you again after that night, lie through his teeth to win you back. and in the weeks that followed, you took his silence to mean he didn't even care enough to do that.

and now here you were, sitting with him. after days and nights, he's had time to really mean his words — he wasn't himself, which is maybe why you believed he was telling the truth.

you think you know now, why he refused to let you in. why he hadn't wanted to take your first time, something so intimate and romantic that it would have pierced right through the layers he'd built up around himself. why he drew away so many nights when your touch lingered on each others' skin, when you wanted him to stay. 

"haechan," you say, quietly. "i need you to understand that i…that i've learned how to be hurt by you. i don't want to go back to how we were before." 

he nods, quickly. "of course." 

"and…you say you knew i wanted more. so you know that i wanted to be with you…romantically, right?" 

"i know." the words are so quiet, you barely catch them. 

"if…if i come back, i don't think i want that anymore." you say, gentle, but firm. jaemin was right — you couldn't let yourself forget all the ways he hurt you. "i associate us with too much hurt. i can't trust you with my heart, can you understand that?" 

there's silence. he's nodding, but when his lips part, he's wordless. 

"haechan?" 

"i understand," he murmurs. "i'm…i didn't…" he breaks off, fiddling with the covers, lip caught in his teeth. "whatever happens next will only happen on your terms," he says, softly. "i only want to do what you want to do, okay?" 

your brow furrows. "but haechan, if you don't feel comfortable with something –" 

"i'm fine as long as you still want to see me," he whispers. 

"if you don't want to let me in, i won't push anymore." you realize you truly mean it when you make the offer out loud. even if it hurt to know that you may never see him like this again, you press on, jaemin's advice resurfacing in your mind again. "you don't owe me any more of yourself. if you want it to just be sex, we can do that – but you have to commit to it too. so no more getting jealous, or —"  

" – that's not possible." 

"you're not making any sense." you should've been hurt, but sitting here now — looking at him, the way he melts into his room, fuzzy at the edges, soft curves of his face, you can't feel any of it. finally, you're beginning to see that he's just as lost as you are. his head is still bowed low, taking in every word you say like a weight he carries upon him. 

"it's not possible because you already know me. you know enough of me that i couldn't perform with you in the crowd, can't be myself around you at a party. i can't stand there onstage, do things like eyefuck girls and play the guitar and pretend to be someone else, while feeling your eyes on me. you'd see right through me."

he sounds like he's on the verge of tears, his voice achy and raw. and as you look up at him, tears are smudging on his waterline, his cheeks glistening as he sniffles. 

"i said i'd be fine with anything," he breathes shakily, as he starts to cry, sharp inhales punctuating his words. "and i am, i really am. i-i'm not in the position to set terms. it's fine if you don't want to know me, but i can't pretend we're just strangers anymore. i won't be able to." 

words you'd said to him — you can't think i still want to know you, after everything. 

for a moment, you entertain the idea that you've hurt him too. 

"i don't think i can pretend either," you murmur. "i hated it when you pretended like you didn't know me. like you'd never seen me before." 

i'm s-sorry, he chokes, but the syllables scattered across his sobs. he claps a hand to his mouth as his breathing speeds up even more, tears wetting his shirt, achy sounds muffled against his palm. and finally you sit up, limbs still clumsy and heavy from sleep, and you wrap your arms around him, and arm slung over his chest, another around his waist, just like you wanted to all this time.

his breath shudders against your palms, warm body against your skin. you bury your face in his neck, breathe in the familiar smell of him that changed no matter who he was or whoever he was pretending to be, until his breathing slows and his sobs come to a shaky stop. 

"i missed you too, haechan," you breathe. he shakes his head. "i did-" you insist, but he shakes his head again, a hand coming to touch your arm on his waist, squeezing tight. 

"not haechan, donghyuck," he whispers. 

"donghyuck," you correct, stroking the side of his cheek lovingly, your fingertip stained with his tears. "i missed you." 

"i missed you too." he says it like the words are dangerous, hushed and quiet. "are you…are you really coming back to me?"

"do you think we can be friends?" you ask, tentatively. not lovers, not strangers. this was the only in-between you knew that could do justice to the ways you knew each other, the only way you could see yourself holding on to him now.

he looks at you for a long time, until you forget your question. his nose is tinted pink, his eyes still watery as he drowns in his thoughts. 

he swallows. "are you sure?" he asks, softly. "your first time being with someone…and it's not even a real relationship." 

"you're doing that thing again," you murmur. "where you tell me what's good for me. how i should do things." you soften when you look up, seeing the guilt in his face, as if he had been caught red-handed. "i'm asking you again," you say, slowly. "do you think we can be friends?" 

this time, he nods. "yeah," he murmurs. "friends who…"

you nod too, feeling your cheeks burn, and then you lean in — slotting your lips against his. 

for a second, he doesn't kiss you back, and your stomach swoops. 

but then his mouth is moving against yours, soft and gentle. a close-lipped kiss, just the feeling of his soft lips on yours, the brush of your noses together, your eyes slowly fluttering shut to focus on the feeling. and even though you'd just agreed — even though you were the one who suggested it, a part of you wondered if you could ever only want to be friends with lee donghyuck.  

—

you sit at the dinner table, and haechan's entire body aches with a longing that crests over him like a tidal wave, knocking the breath from his lungs. 

he recalls the way he'd felt earlier, walking back across the park from the kindergarten, stopping by the grocery store and wandering the brightly-lit aisles, turning over pasta sauce and soup stock in his hands. the knowledge that you were in his home, sleeping, that he would turn the key in the lock and you would be waiting for him — burned down his throat like alcohol, a bonfire in his stomach. it felt like playing pretend. he was afraid to even drive you back to your apartment, to walk you to your door, to look at you too long in the moments after. and yet here he was, tipsy off the sweetness of being able to come home to you. 

after the talk, neither of you had gone much further than kissing. 

"i missed you so much," he murmurs – his voice crumpling under the weight of his own words. 

"do you want to show me?" your tone is lightly teasing, dipping low as you keep your smile on your face. the warmth coursing through your body has nothing to do with the blankets pooling around your thighs, and everything to do with the boy sitting across from you — doll-like legs with miles of silky skin splayed out over the sheets, back slouching against the headboard, all crumpled in and soft and worn. 

if you had gone to the bar weeks ago, let him guide you to this home, to this bed, you might already be familiar with this soft mattress in a whole different way.  

neither of you can deny the way your minds wander there still, despite everything. him missing your body framed against his, you craving the sink of his chest, the curve of his waist.  

there's silence, as his words register in the boy's head, pain flickering over his features. if he was feeling more like himself, he would pulled you in, caged you under him. tugged at that side of you that was always so pliant and easy for him and watched you unravel under his fingertips. the words are on the tip of his tongue — i'll show you. did you miss me too? kiss me. stay with me.

instead, his fingers withdraw, and gently touch the soft cotton of his shirt's hem, warm light flickering in his eyes. "not like this," he murmurs quietly. "not…not now."

you let out a breath, tension dissipating. "yeah," you'd murmured. "you're right." 

you'd gone to take a shower while he prepared dinner. there was something terribly domestic about all of it — you padding into the living room again, each fiber of your being smelling so much like him. the way he turned from where he stood guarding the soup bubbling on the stove to see you in one of his shirts, a towel draped over your shoulders. the feelings he hadn't learned to pin down, hadn't had the time to sort, intensified in his chest, an ache lodged inside him. 

friends. he'd introduced you to his sister as his friend, watched you braid her hair and laugh with her softly, heard your sweet voice wishing her good luck with school. the nights he'd spent with you by his side — talking about the band, about his tattoos. asking about how he did during the show, seeking your praise, wanting to know so badly how he appeared in your eyes. the way you somehow reached right through him and made him listen, made him stop. was that friendship? 

now with all the plates cleared and washed, the sounds of your clothes tumbling in his washing machine in the background, the smell of black nail polish prickled his nose as you leaned over. your fingers brushing his, holding them in place. 

"should i make it a little messy?" your voice is light. 

"it's usually messy because i get my sister to do it," he tells you, softly. "you don't have to mimic how it looks." 

you nod, a small smile on your face as you dip the brush back in the bottle. there's silence, for a while, as he watches you, studying the way you look with your head bowed, feeling each careful touch of your fingers, and then — 

"do you want to talk about rules now?" 

you look up at him just briefly before going back to the task. he swallows. 

"sure." 

another pause. and then quietly, "you can't get jealous anymore, you know that right?" 

"i know," he murmurs. "you told me to stop before…but i didn't. i'm sorry." 

you nod. "you can't be possessive of me, either." 

he hesitates. "so…no marking?" 

slowly, you let go of his left hand. "you can still leave hickeys and bruises," you mumble. "just don't…don't call me yours you know?" 

he didn't know if he could do that. "okay," he says, softly. "i'll try." and then, slowly and carefully, he asks, "are you going to keep coming to our shows?" 

the slide drag of the brush on his nail stops. "do you want me to?" 

he bites his lip. "i want you there," he says, slowly. "but i don't know if i'll be okay with having you in the crowd." 

"oh." 

"maybe you can watch from backstage. or the wings. i want you to," he adds, when you look troubled. "please." 

"are we still a secret?" 

his lips part. he wanted to say yes — but it was the way you'd asked it, like it was something you feared, that made him hesitate.

"because," you continue. "it didn't feel good, keeping it from jaemin. and as i said, i hated it when you pretended we were strangers." 

he felt your hands leave his, capping the bottle of nail polish as you leaned back in your chair, tucking your knees to your chest. he keeps his hands splayed on the table, taking a deep breath.

"no more secrets," he agrees. "and stop going to those parties, y/n. if you want to see me, just tell me." 

you raise your eyebrows. "we're not exclusive," you point out, slowly. "i don't go to the parties just for you. haechan, if you don't think you can do this…" 

"i can," he says, hurriedly. "i'm sorry. if i see you at a party…i'll say you're my friend. i'm sorry, it's just that i…i'm just…."

"it's okay." giving him a small smile, you get to your feet, shuffling over to the kitchen. you don't hear him come closer as you fill up a glass of water on the kitchen, only know of his presence as his hand touches your shoulder carefully. 

"don't go," he murmurs. his arms slide around your body, gently pulling you towards him, and you turn slightly so you can see his face.

"i'm still here," you respond, softly. 

but he shakes his head. "don't go." 

you turn around in his arms and your lips brush, his own parting against yours, seeking permission. all the time he wonders when he'll stop kissing you like he's swearing an oath — devoted in the way he wraps his lips around yours, patient and true in the way his tongue moves against yours, and even now, something loving in the way he murmurs your name into the cavern of your mouth. his hands move carefully on your skin, nail polish still drying on his fingertips, and if either of you question the way you kiss, you keep it to yourselves. 

—

it's different, watching haechan perform, when he's not performing for you. 

you saw the way his eyes flitted through the crowd, making and breaking eye contact so fast it was hard to keep track of, each twitch of his expression rehearsed and calculated. a teasing part of his lips, sinful face fluttery and slack as the music crashed all around him, like he could physically feel it. he was right — you didn't see him the same. you knew it was the performance, that he was really the one trying to please the crowd, riding off the pleasure of attention. but despite seeing through it as he had said, it still had you feeling tightly wound inside, pressure building up inside you, a craving for his touch intensifying with each time his hips shifted against his guitar. 

and even worse was the way your heartbeat would trip over itself every time haechan's eyes flickered over to you. never during a song, but in the moments between — mark's voice speaking through the mic, the rest of the boys checking on their instruments or interacting with the crowd. he would look over at you briefly, almost shyly, his heart-shaped lips creasing into a smile. 

"friends?" 

the moment you'd arrived home, you had pleaded with jaemin not to be upset with haechan, but it turned out you didn't need to. haechan had left a message the night of the party, and when you'd walked in looking more well rested and collected than you'd had in days, jaemin knew that you had been safe. you'd reassured him too, when he asked if keeping you from him only made things worse. both of you had needed that time to come to this conclusion. only time would tell if it was the right one. 

"so you're going to be friends with benefits?" jaemin raised his eyebrows. "was this his idea or yours?" 

"mine," you mumble. feeling the need to defend yourself, you raise your voice just slightly. "i just think that…i want to keep seeing him, and i want to get to know him…but i don't want him in that way. anymore," you add, when jaemin bites his lip.

"did you really lose feelings, or are you just not ready?" he asks, quietly. 

you force a laugh out of your chest. "you think i'd still have feelings for someone who hurt me that much?" you try to say it sarcastically, but you don't have the heart to. the words have no bite, and instead truth echoes in the spaces between.

"that's not the worst thing in the world, y/n." his voice is steady, and calm. "it's okay to take your time. if you remember that lying to yourself will only hurt more." 

but there are things to soothe the ache. 

"did you like the show?" 

haechan roughly tugs off his jacket, letting it slump off his shoulders and onto the floor. the moment the last song ended he'd rushed off stage and right to you, eyes blazing under his heavy makeup, the both of you stumbling into one of the small storerooms backstage. 

a single small lightbulb barely illuminates the small space, bathing you in warm light and shadow. shelves of boxes line most of the walls, except for a sliver of space that currently presses against your back, your fingers touching the cold surface. 

"it was good," you murmur. 

"yeah?" 

he's still hungry for more. you can see it in his eyes — for all his good girls and you're perfect, you knew he craved to be adored too. 

"you were right," you say, softly. "it feels different, watching as your friend." 

his smile falters.

"i…i like it more," you continue. "being in the wings…makes me want to get your attention." 

"you have my attention now, princess," he points out. he touches a hand to your waist. 

it's almost scary, how you slip back into old patterns. a heady rush filling your senses, slowly dragging you under. this is why i couldn't stop, you think, as he leans in ever closer, his eyes glazed over as his gaze slides to your lips. 

there's a beat. 

"i forgot to ask," he mumbles. "no possessiveness right?" 

your mind clears, just a bit. you nod, breathlessly. 

"what else?" he asks. looking at you, timidly, he asks. "can i…are pet names okay? can i still call you baby?" 

"baby's fine," you whisper. 

"princess?" 

"hmm?"

"no," he smiles fondly at you. "i was asking if calling you princess was okay." 

you want to bury your face in your hands. or his chest. "princess is fine." 

his smile grows wider, before he suddenly turns serious again. "are we starting anew?" he asks, hesitantly. "can i…can i bring up things from before? or are we pretending that this is our first time…" 

"no more pretending," you murmur, feeling like a hypocrite. "why? did you want to bring up something?"

"kind of," he nods towards the door. "just thought you're going to love this," he says, slyly. "hearing stage crew and bandmates walking by, knowing that at any point someone could hear us, someone could come in…"

and now you do bury your face in your hands, and when he reaches around to hug you, you lean against his chest, feeling his laugh vibrate against you, feeling you with warmth. 

"it's okay," he murmurs, as his hands slide down to squeeze your waist. "i won't play with them this time, baby. today's all about you, hm?" 

his hands falter, perhaps realizing the words were too tender, a little too loving for what you both claimed this would be. 

"lets try not to do anything…romantic?" you mumble. 

you regret the words as soon as you say them, your teeth biting into your lip sharply. 

haechan's face has shuttered down. you can't read his expression, as he nods, taking your hands in his and kissing them. 

"please." you look at him, this time taking the dive, feeling yourself free-falling towards that familiar desire, letting the current swallow you whole. "i need you." 

in spite of everything, haechan's lips are as gentle as they've always been. 

his lips brush yours, once, twice, before he locks in his kiss, hands trembling slightly as he touches the side of your face, cups you in his palms. you want to ask him what's wrong, pulling away slightly, but he makes a wounded sound from the back of his throat, pressing you against the wall, his head dipping to kiss you fiercely. his tongue slides against yours, and he groans low against your lips. 

your hands fumble on his shirt, skimming his broad shoulders, strong arms. he pants into your mouth when your drag your nails down his chest, breaking away. tugging his shirt roughly over his head, he grabs your hands and places them on his chest before leaning in to kiss you again, this time working his way down your neck, his wet kisses making your body shudder as you cling onto him for support. 

"please," you murmur, wondering why he was staying so silent. "please-" 

but he shakes his head, fingers tracing your jaw, tilting your head up so he lap his tongue over a newly formed bruise. the room is silent save for the sound of his lips, but you crave his voice, his words guiding you through everything, the lilting cadence of it. 

"haechan-" a foreign feeling spikes in your stomach as he ignores you, continuing to kiss his way down to your collarbones, fingers tugging your collar wide open. it felt like he wasn't there at all. 

he breathes heavy against your skin as he curls his hands around your hips, holding on tight. still he doesn't say a word, or even make a sound, as his caress the back of your thighs.

"stop-" you blurt out. roughly, you take his hands in yours, gripping them by the wrists. 

he lifts his head. 

"haechan," you start, but he just looks at you. your heart squeezes painfully in your chest. 

"haechan, you're scaring me." your voice is panicked and tight, the tension so overwhelming that tears begin to blur your vision, your chest rising and falling faster. 

"baby?" he asks, alarmed. "what's wrong?" 

"please talk to me," you beg, wiping away the tears on your cheek. the ache has soothed slightly at his voice, but you need more. "why…why aren't you talking? you always…you always used to-" 

"i'm sorry," he whispers, pulling your body into his, wrapping his bare arms around you. "i'm here," he soothes, in your ear. "i'm here," he mumbles again, and again, until your breathing calms down. 

"i'm sorry," he repeats, kissing you softly. "i'm here now, baby, okay?" 

you nod, and now you guide his hands to your thighs, feel the way his breathing hitches.

"can i…?" 

"please," you say, breathlessly, and his hand cups your warm core. 

"fuck," he blurts out. you were so warm, the seat of your panties completely soaked through. he slides them to the side with nimble fingers, inhaling sharply as he strokes your folds. 

"how are you so wet? fuck-" 

"take them off," you plead, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your skin. immediately, he tugs your panties and skirt down roughly, almost frustrated, barely waiting for you to step out of them before encouraging you to spread your legs wider as he strokes you, fingers dipping to catch at your entrance, your swollen clit. 

"so fucking wet," he marvels, groaning slightly as he swipes his fingers softly . 

"from watching you perform," you say, softly. 

the words send pleasure thrumming low in his navel. "yeah?" he murmurs, eyes meeting yours. 

slowly, he drops to his knees, and suddenly you feel hypersensitive — his breath on your thighs, hands gripping you tightly. he suckles a kiss close to your core, and you whine, loudly, the sound too loud in the small space. 

he looks up at you, sultry eyes framed in dark eyeliner. "let me hear you, baby," he coaxes, easing your legs open. he sticks out the tip of his tongue, and gives your clit a gentle flick, your hips bucking into his face before you can stop yourself. "i've been dreaming about this," he sighs, before he closes in and suckles on your clit. 

he lapped at you like all he'd done in your days apart was think about how best to do it — alternating between suckling on your clit, licking your folds with his tongue wide and flat, and prodding at your entrance. one hand keeping you pressed against the wall, his other slips around your entrance, sliding in one long finger, the way your walls suck him in making him moan, vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through you. you can feel the jut of his finger joints, the pad of his finger curling against your walls, while his tongue focuses on your clit, drawing shapes and letters expertly. 

you slump further against the wall, the pleasure making your legs shake, unable to hold yourself up, your hands tangled in his hair, knotting them around your fingers. 

"i can't stand-" you're cut off by a moan, as he bites into your thigh, licking up the wetness that stains them, a mix of your arousal and his saliva. "please," you wish you were on a bed, wish both of you had had more patience to go somewhere and do this right, feel the whole weight of his body on yours. 

"cum," he pants, sucking on your clit with his plush lips as he coaxes another finger into your warm, now mimicking a vibrating motion with his hand as he pushes in hard and fast. he doesn't break away even as he moans out, now curling his fingers languidly against your walls. "fuck, baby, i need you to cum now because i can't wait any longer-" 

his tongue presses onto your clit, and the pressure pushes you overboard. his hand the only thing keeping you upright, pushing roughly into you, he eats you out until your orgasm is over, kitten licking your clit as his head moves this way and that. you open your eyes and see him staring right at you, desire pulsing in his pupils, eyes blown out and dark. 

"good?" he breathes, both hands now gripping you tight. you nod, swallowing and gasping. his face is smeared with you, mouth and nose shining and glossy. he licks around his lips, mouth hanging open as his eyes glint. 

"more?" he asks, and you nod, gasping, falling to your knees. now, you're finally able to touch him, as your body crashes into his, causing him to nearly tip over from how he kneels, sitting back on his ankles to draw you into him. you kiss him deeply, letting his lips wrap around your tongue just the way you loved it, feel his hum vibrate against your own chest. 

his hands ghost under your shirt, and you help him pull it off, his hands cupping your breasts with his familiar touch, sucking kisses down your cleavage as you gasp for air. his hands roam your body indulgently, as if he was afraid you'd dissolve if he wasn't mapping your skin with his palms, his tongue, his lips. one hand trailing up and down your back, unclasping your bra, while the other squeezes the back of your thighs, resting his hand on your ass. 

he suckles on your nipples like he had all the time in the world, as if you weren't in a cramped store room feeling as if you were about to explode from his touch alone. gentle tongue drawing circles around the bud, eyes staring up at yours with devotion. your hips move against his, and his eyes flutter shut as he sighs, his hips starting to grind up against you as well. 

"turn around," he mumbles. "now, princess." 

"i want to see you," you protest, hands gripping onto his arms as he slowly walks forward on his knees, pushing you towards the wall. 

"i'm sorry, baby-" he kisses you, placatory and sweet. "we'll go again in my bedroom later, okay? need you like this now."

you let him maneuver you until you're facing the wall, legs spread apart as he kneels in between. trying to soothe you, he rubs a hand over your stomach, reminding you of his presence the entire time he rids himself of his jeans and underwear, rolling on a condom, tension building with every small sound, until you can feel something thick and heavy press between your legs. 

"haechan-" you pant, your back arching just slightly as you lean towards the wall for support, feeling his hand squeeze your hip. 

"i know," he mumbles, making slight shushing sounds as he eases himself against you. "i know, baby." 

even though he was behind you, you knew the face he would make as you felt his tip slowly push past your entrance, the way his eyebrows would float upwards as his eyes went unfocused, lips parting in a lovely 'ah- ah' that he tried hard to contain behind hisses and bitten lips. part of you still wants to see it, but all thoughts are lost as he fully sheaths himself into you, feeling him deep inside from the position. his hand on your hip creeps over to your navel, and he pushes gently over where he was buried inside you, the pressure somehow intensifying as you feel full from all sides. 

slowly, his body presses you further into the wall, and you gasp as the cool surface brushes your chest. he kisses the nape of your neck, and your body trembles, shifting against him and whining as you clench around him from sensitivity. behind you, haechan mumbles out a string of curses, hips jolting forward unsteadily before he stops himself. 

"please move," you whisper, and he moans, finally thrusting into you. he finds a rhythm that's slow and deep, feeling full and stretched out each time you throb around him. a particularly harsh thrust has you whining, your hips tilting towards the wall, trying to get away, but suddenly the solid weight of his body presses against you ever harsher as he rolls his hips, his chest pressed to your back. he feels stronger, and sturdier than he ever did before, as a hand creeps down to your clit and begins to rub slow and lazy circles, his body attuned to yours. you jolt away from the simulation, ass suddenly jolting back against his length, making you cry out again, sandwiched between pleasure. 

"don't run from it," he coaxes. "just take it, hm?" 

you had nowhere to go as he fucks himself into you, wet sounds filling the small space, and you're sure the floor is wet with your arousal, can feel your next climax approaching fast, making you forget about the ache in your knees and in the way your head pressed against the hard wall. you begin to shake in his hold, trying to fuck yourself back on his cock while he bullies your clit relentlessly, but once again his chest presses into you, strong arms holding you firmly in place as he overflows your body with pleasure, a hand slowly grasping yours and squeezing.

"i missed you, baby," he says, quietly, voice surprisingly steady despite the way he was ramming into you. "i really missed you." his lips brush the shell of your ear. 

you cum unexpectedly, crying out, squeezing tight around him as all the muscles in your body tense. your hand squeezes tight around his as the other rubs quick circles on your clit, working you through your orgasm. you can feel him still behind you as he cums too, whining in a pitch and tone you'd never heard from him before, desperate and achy as you clench around him again from the sound, so sensual that it rekindles a fire inside you despite the soreness in all your limbs. 

your weak hands fumble against him, scrabbling against his strong grip. he pulls out with a hiss, helping you turn around to face him. in the semi-darkness, you can see the concern pooling in his eyes, bright and scared. 

"was it too rough?" he asks, breathlessly. his hands skim your frame, pulling you onto his lap. 

you shake your head, nuzzling into him. you're torn between watching that silvery glow in his eyes, makeup smudged around all his corners, and burying yourself deep inside his chest until you can feel his heartbeat on your cheek. 

"baby? are you alright?" he rubs gentle circles on your back, as you nod. "use your words, please," he says, softly. 

"you got stronger," you blurt out. 

"did i hurt you?" he moves against you, something protective in the way he holds you that makes your body sing with warmth. 

"no," you say shyly. "i loved it." 

you lift your head just quick enough to catch the way his face crumples. before you can ask, he leans in and he's kissing you again — soft, gentle, sweet and almost shy. when you part, he looks dazed, eyes drifting down to your lips and wandering back up to your eyes. 

"you deserve better," he says, quietly. 

he looks down, at the way you're sitting in his lap, and then tilts his head sharply to look around the store room, as if he meant you deserved better than this for your first time back with him. as if this was about sex at all. 

you take a deep breath, and shake your head. "haechan, you're exactly what i deserve." 

the name rings out in the space. it seems to ground him, and he shakes his head to clear it, slowly untangling himself from you as he gets ready to help you up. 

you swallow. "take me home," you tell him. "take care of me." 

he does exactly as you say. 

—

attention simmers on your skin, a palpable heat you're unable to shake. 

girls circle the kitchen island like sharks, eyes glinting under the fluorescent lights, but they're never able to come close as it's so clear haechan's focus is entirely on you. haechan's back is turned to the party as he sits on the counter, long legs spilling over and the muscles in his thick thighs accentuated by the way he sits, denim stretched tight and each gaping hole making you doubt your decision to come to the party here, instead of going over to his home. 

it was his party, and he should go. the fans would be upset if he didn't at least show. now you were seriously regretting it, as you ducked your head to avoid the glare of another crowd as they passed by, while haechan knocked back another drink. 

he had been alight with energy ever since the show ended — agreeing amiably when you suggested going to the party, his smile only wavering when you reminded him he couldn't get jealous. and while your eyes wandered around the party, drinking in the scenes you hadn't seen in awhile, he was doing everything in his power to keep your attention on him, camera strap hanging from his neck as he clicked through the photos, pointing out the parts where jaemin had helped him, explaining the stories behind the pictures. 

"i didn't know you were into photography." it's a stupid statement, that you want to retract immediately. of course you didn't – you didn't know much about him at all. but it makes him smile a little proudly, clicking on the dial to speed through the photos. 

"yeah well, i've never taken a photo of you." he mumbles, scratching the nape of his neck. "i know for sure because when we…you know…when we weren't seeing each other, and i missed you…" his cheeks are burning up, his mouth barely moving as he tries to fumble through the rest of the sentence, plush lips swallowing his words. "i couldn't find any photos of you. on my camera or in my phone or…" he trails off. 

your heart thrums harder in your chest. "yeah?" 

"do…do you have photos of me?" he asks. timidly, softly. his eyes trained on his camera, unseeing, breath held in his chest waiting for your answer.

"of course i do," you murmur. you hope he can hear the smile in your voice, know that it's for him.  "rockstar." 

his fingers twitch, and he looks up at you, a searing intensity in his eyes that wasn't there before, flames licking at your cheeks as you hold his gaze, a warmth that sparks down your spine like fireworks. the sounds of the party fade away, sealing you in the vacuum of his attention.

"y/n,"  his voice drops an octave, all the softness drained out of it. 

"haechan?" 

"let me take a photo of you," he murmurs. "please." 

"now?" 

"no, not now," he says, slowly. "you know what i mean, princess." 

but you never get to clarify, because someone taps you lightly on the shoulder. haechan's eyes flicker behind you, all the intensity faded out, and it feels like your lungs fill with air again as you turn to see jisung, holding two cups in his hands, one of which he's holding out to you. 

you're torn between crushing guilt, and relief that he doesn't hate you. 

"j-jisung," you splutter. "jisung, hi." 

"hi, y/n." he smiles, nudging the cup towards you again, and you take it. almost against your will, your eyes dart over to haechan, but his face is impassive and neutral, camera laying forgotten on his lap as he turns quickly to survey the party behind him. was he trying to offer you privacy, or was he upset? 

you sip from the drink, trying not to make a face at the overwhelming sweetness that floods your tastebuds. the boy had barely put any alcohol in it. your hand almost inches towards the cup haechan made for you, wanting to balance out the taste, before you stop yourself. 

you didn't want to hurt his feelings again. 

"it's been a while," you say, sheepishly. "and again, i'm really sorry about last time."

"it's okay," he says, cheerfully. "haechan already apologised. besides, you can make it up to me on our date."

jisung's words have a physical effect on haechan. you feel him tense up behind you, body going stiff as he turns back to watch you, eyes trained on the side of your face. 

"you still owe me a date." you don't know if it's determination, or sheer recklessness, that inspired jisung to say this to you as you stood in the kitchen with haechan just inches away, the side of his thigh still brushing your waist. "are you free tomorrow night?" 

you try your best not to look at haechan. he had no right to care, you didn't owe him anything. you didn't know what you wanted to see on his face either way — whether his jealousy would make you angry, whether his sadness would hurt you instead. 

"i am," you agree, hesitantly, and jisung's close-lipped smile blooms. 

—

"you know there are other boys out there right? that there's a world beyond the band?" 

"shut up, jaemin," you mumble, checking your reflection in the dressing room mirror one last time. 

"this is good for you." his tone has changed, as he leans against the locked door. "jisung is nice. i hope it works out." 

tonight's show had been different. jaemin had reluctantly confirmed that it wasn't just your imagination — the way haechan was quieter throughout, more self-conscious in his performance, eyes barely scanning the crowd, taking longer glances at you throughout the show. jisung's confidence, on the other hand, poured off him in waves, his jacket unzipped, gums showing as he smiled wide. 

"i know." you sling your bag across your body, adjusting your skirt, as you turn to face him, taking a deep breath. "i'm really giving him a chance, jaemin. i'm…i'm taking this seriously, even if you don't believe me." it wasn't a lie. you barely knew anything about jisung, and jisung barely knew anything about you — but he was always sincere and sweet, quietly brave under his shyness. you couldn't forget the way he looked at you even with haechan by your side. it made you want to give him a chance too.

"i believe you," he reassures. "good luck, okay?" the door unlatches with a small click, and he gives you one last wave before heading out into the corridor. 

your eyes dart back to your reflection one last time before you turn back, satisfied with your appearance, and start towards the door. you barely take a step before there's a creak, and you think it's jaemin coming back, or perhaps jisung, wondering why you took so long. 

but of course, things are never easy. 

a familiar face enters the room, pushing the door open wide. he doesn't bother to close it, just takes you in for a second — eyes sweeping your frame, taking in your jewelry, the hints of makeup on your skin, your clothes, your neat hair. dejavu crawls over your skin, remembering the first time you'd met jisung, the way haechan had cornered you in the dressing room after, too. you tense your shoulders, preparing for the fight. 

"you look nice," he says, quietly. 

your lips part. "haechan-" 

but before you can speak, he's blurting out his next words. "j-jisung's going to love it," he stammers out, shadows flickering in his gaze as he swallows, throat bobbing. "i… i just came here to say good luck." at your surprised expression, his lips curve up into a sad smile. "that…that's what friends do, right?" 

"yeah." your hands grip onto the sling of your bag tightly, afraid of what your hands would do if you let go. 

"i'm going to go now," he mumbles. "i…have fun, y/n." 

there isn't a trace of sarcasm in his tone, his eyes soft and fond. he leaves before you can say another word, not closing the door behind him. you can hear his boots all the way down the corridor, can hear him disappear up the stairs. 

you try not to think about his voice, as you take the back exit out of the venue, see jisung standing in the warm summer night, smiling under a streetlight. try not to dwell on the fact that haechan might have actually wished the best for you – no more layers of pretense under pretense, no more feelings without reason. 

it's easier said than done.

—

two hours pass, your food gone from your plates, only the dregs of your drinks left in their glasses, before jisung finally clears his throat. 

"this isn't working out, is it?" 

"i'm sorry," you say, biting your lip. you'd walked to see a movie, something jisung had picked out, but had been mind-numbingly dull to you. you settled to watch his reactions instead, the way his hands flew over his eyes at the more intense scenes, the way he bit down on his fingers when the tension spiked. it was cute, but less so when he started asking you questions about the movie, and you had to admit you didn't remember any part of the plot past the first 20 minutes. 

late night dinner hadn't been better, each topic running itself to the ground quickly, your opinions and lack of opinions causing each conversation to crash to an uncomfortable halt. good things take time, had been jaemin's text to you when you asked for help. you were sure that jisung and you weren't acting like your true selves, the prospect of the date altering the way you talked and responded to each other, until you'd finally come to the conclusion that perhaps you just weren't compatible. 

"i really thought this would work out," jisung says, a tinge of sadness coloring his words. 

"i wanted it to," you confess. selfishly, you had almost been excited at the prospect of things working out with jisung — needing confirmation that you could still feel for others. excited for the date leading to the next, to fall in love with surety. 

excited to find the first relationship, the first 'you and i' that haechan seemed to think you deserved. 

"it's okay," jisung reaches out, pats your hand clumsily, shyly, as if surprised that reaching towards you meant he actually got to touch you  "i didn't know much about you when i asked you out, anyway. just thought you were really pretty." he looks mortified again, and it makes you laugh — everything about him still endearing.

"do you want to just be friends?" you ask, gently. 

it's like a weight lifts from the conversation, and he sighs, relieved. "yeah," he echoes. "friends." 

the silence that follows is a lot more peaceful. jisung slumps slightly in his seat, like the tension has left his body. his deep voice somehow still manages to sound timid when he speaks up next. 

"since we're friends…" 

you nod, encouragingly, taking a last sip of your drink. 

"can i ask…do you like haechan?" 

you nearly choke. jisung was looking at you carefully, although he smiled at the expression on your face. 

"a-are you sure you want to talk about this?' you stammer. 

he shrugs, but there's something unreadable in his expression. "i'll always be curious about it, and i guess this is my chance to ask." 

you don't have the heart to answer him directly. 

"i…i used to," you say, slowly. "but that was when i didn't know him." 

"know him?" he asks, confused. 

you nod. "yeah. i didn't really know him as a person….just…knew the performance, i guess." 

jisung still looks confused, but he nods along. "well, do you know him now?" 

you think of the sunlight in his living room. the faint dimple on his cheek as he showed you a photo of his sister running towards the camera, her face alight as she called out for her big brother. his arms around you in the kitchen, as he asked you to stay. the slope of his neck as he turns towards you at the end of a song — the fading sound of his guitar as his eyes sought yours. 

"maybe," you say, softly. 

"and?" jisung prompts. "could you like him now?" 

you don't answer him aloud, but your unspoken words ring in your head. 

—

it's different this time, haechan tells himself, as he grips his phone in his hands. 

it's different this time, because he knew where you were. he knew why you weren't calling. 

he slumps back against his bed, his body heavy with alcohol but his mind racing wild, each thought outpacing the next. 

the apartment was silent and empty. both jeno and mark were gone for the night. haechan hadn't bothered to go to the party, knowing that he would feel jisung's absence like a pain lodged in his ribs. he wonders if jisung will bring you home, here, whether you'd let him, even if he knew jisung wasn't the type of boy to go further than hand-holding on the first date. he thinks of it anyway — of hearing your sounds through his bedroom wall. whether it would make you needier to know haechan was listening. 

he feels like a loser. he's never felt more uncomfortable in his own skin, more unclean, more ashamed. but then again, there's no one around to know, as he lets his mind wander a little farther, away from you and jisung, away from his phone, sinking deep into the last time he'd touched your skin, images and sensations jumping out eagerly at him when he closed his eyes. flicks through moments that caused a heat to lick down his spine, the familiar hum of pleasure buzzing low in his navel — your legs on his shoulders, your hands in his hair. your taste, the patterns he would draw on your body so you'd shake just the way he liked, the spot on your neck he could kitten-lick to feel you tense up all around him. 

that night, even after he'd fucked you in the store room, you had been insatiable. 

he'd tried to touch you like the other girls he used to play with — never speaking much, preferring to use his mouth for other things, let their own imaginations run wild with what he could be thinking behind his hooded eyes. he'd taken you with your face turned away from him, pleasure without intimacy, sucking bruises as a keepsake for you after the night ended, not as if you were his to keep or to lose. 

let's try not to do anything romantic. 

but then you'd begged him to talk to you. told him to take you home. he'd hated it — hated the way you folded for him, like someone had given him powers he couldn't help abuse. do you know how tender this is for me? he'd wanted to ask, as he was touching you again in his sheets back home, racing to meet your every demand before you asked for it. 

your legs parted for him as he entered you, trying to keep his eyes open through the pleasure to watch your every expression, the look he'd been dying to see — your eyelashes fluttering, lips parted silently, the sharp gasp as he found your soft spot, your hands scrabbling against his skin. he held your gaze even as he let you wrap your legs around his waist, ankles locked in a sweetheart's cross behind him as he pushed your legs even higher, letting him in deeper. he'd never imagined himself with anyone like this before — a position so full of love and closeness, feeling your body and ripple against his, leaning in to kiss your lips softly, kiss away your desperation. 

he'd almost gone crazy when you found your voice amidst all the pleasure. 

"donghyuck," you'd breathed, saying the name like a prayer. "feels so good." 

he had stilled, slowing to a stop, even though he was painfully hard in you. his heart racing in his chest, pounding so hard he felt like it was about to burst out of his chest.

"you," you mumbled, slowly grinding your hips against him. "you make me feel so good, 's like no one else-"  

"yeah?" he picks up the pace again, tilting your body at an angle now so he could go even deeper, watches the way your face changes. he was the one who pulled that sound from your chest — sated but desperate at the same time, needy but satisfied. "i make you feel this good, right? i'm good for you, everything's for you-" he babbled, not making sense to even himself, your praise burying itself deep inside him like a siren song. 

you'd choked out more praises, pretty words tumbling from your parted lips, your eyes never leaving his. 

"more, hyuck-" you pulled at him, nails scratching down his back. "hyuck-" 

it's like he can hear your voice, as his hand slides down to his hip, down to his leaking cock. 

he jerks himself off like that — to the images of you pressed under him, your voice calling his name. he does it fast, with no finesse — tugging roughly, the slide too dry, but he doesn't care about drawing out the pleasure, doesn't think it matters if you're not here with him. 

he feels even filthier after he finishes — peeling off his soiled shirt, as he stumbles to the bathroom. he knows he won't hear from you tonight, that you wouldn't do that to jisung, but still he keeps his phone unlocked with the ringer on next to his bed as he lays down again. 

maybe he would wake up, and you would tell him he could never see you or touch you again. his mind wanders in another direction now, away from your body, away from pleasure — to the ways you made his heart squeeze tight in his chest. when you said his name. when you'd comforted him as he was crying, the kindness in your eyes despite all the ways he hurt you. sitting on the kitchen counter, thinking of ways to keep you with him as your eyes wandered off. look at me, he'd wanted to beg. think of me. just me. 

he goes to sleep thinking about how this could be the last night before you'd really only exist in memory and fantasy, before everything changes.

@neochan, @ahncosette, @18shy @kittydollzz @jenoslutie @pussymode @yyfka @cheolctrl @jaeminsballs @mysummerhyuck @strawberrytyong @rosiejunnie @nctzen4eva @haechskies @wickedrei @sundamariis @liliansun @lanadreamie @nodisdino @angelwonie @foxydumps @manooffline @moonsmias @skzct7 @iscocohere @ficrecnctskz @makiswrld @itskkung @simpforarmihn @aryraaaa @rbf-aceu @laubyrinthine @yujuvly @nctevia @hyuckenjoyer @guhhfgbbj @girlwholoveslpreppyattire @kasperneo @eneiyri @toroufriteh @cauliephays @jisoung @niinjo @wonaoi @yuskitty @strawbabyz @readingisgodly @daegalfangirl @minkyuncutie @feat-sun @chaoticstrawberryland @shawnyle @sofix-hc7 @scftharu @spageddy @adorejaehyn @manooffline @02mrk @tyongspice1 @runahways @neosdaisy @hotmessexpress35

[rockrosethistle]

I'm thinking about the implications again.

The numbers that the hive mind performs aren't random. Both the lyrics and the choreography will often boil down to to one purpose: to cause pain. (Pokey is ruthless.)

Sometimes it's physical, and that's easy to spot. The cops spend half of their song just kicking and pushing people to the ground. Join Us And Die literally ends with Ted getting beat up.

And when the choreography doesn't allow for it, the lyrics are specifically trying to elicit an emotional response. The hive uses Alice to torment Bill. He's watching someone he loves die in front of him. It does the same for Charlotte.

Okay, the hive gets a kick out watching people suffer. That's not new information. But the implications...

Look at Inevitable. It's a pretty significant shift from the rest of the numbers. Whereas those seem tailored for pain and fear, Inevitable seems to be comforting? Just look.

Paul walks out, and the first thing he does is hug Emma. Which doesn't seem significant at first, but think: Did Bill get that same courtesy?

Alice's first line is meant to taunt Bill. Paul's is almost consolatory; " Emma / I'm sorry / you lost." I won't dissect this completely, the theory is that this first line is genuine. Paul is actually sorry that their plan failed.

And when you take a look at the choreography, it becomes clear that it's a lot kinder than the other songs.

We see Paul waltzing with Emma and kissing her hands. And even though he's not letting her get away, he's not trying to hurt her. He's not even trying to intimidate her. He's shown more than once bending down--getting on her level, like you would to a child--as opposed to towering over her.

The lyrics aren't messing with her either. Whereas Sam is manipulative and Alice is spiteful, Paul's lyrics are reassuring.

"I'm still the man you trust," is a lot different than "Don't you twust me?" when you get right down to it. It carries with it a connotation of 'I'm okay, and you will be too.'

"What if I told you I made it?" actively contradicts the 'I killed your loved one' narrative that Alice used with Bill.

It's not like Emma is buying any of it. She's still terrified. Paul doesn't need to hurt her or taunt her in order to scare her, just singing was enough. But it's clear that he's not trying to.

The hive mind gets a kick out of watching people suffer. Emma is the leading lady. You'd think that she's the one who should have the most brutal song. But she just doesn't. It seems like her song is trying to be the kindest.

We know it's implied that once they get infected, people are still conscious inside their musical doppelgängers (source: the line "your own body is your front row seat" as well as Sam breaking through its control long enough to say "Charlotte" before falling back under).

I think Paul was conscious during Inevitable. I think he knew that they weren't escaping this. I think he knew he was eventually going to kill Emma, and there was nothing he could do about it. But I think he didn't want her to suffer.

Instead, I think he resolved to give her as kind a death as he could. He would lie. He'd tell her he was happy and that she was safe. He'd be as gentle as the hive mind allowed. She was running out of time, so he'd love her with every second they had left.

(but that's just a theory...a musical theory... and cut)

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

AGORA HILLS- JOSH WASHINGTON

pairing: bestfriend!josh x onlyfans!reader

word count: idkk sorry i wrote this in one sitting in the app

summary: the whole group thinks you're an innocent angel, but josh found your little secret account on onlyfans a few weeks earlier. little do you know, he wants to be a feature.

warning: IMPLIED SMUT (like they basically do it oki), fingering, praise, dumbifaction, swearing, petnames, size kink, manhandling, mocking/ teasing, filmed sexual activity

not spell checked im sorry if theres any mistakes!

"boy, you're the one, you're the only man/ me and you on my OnlyFans/ holy cow, you're the holy trin'/ hold me down when a hole need dick"- doja cat, agora hills

josh felt like a complete and total pervert.

he couldn't help but let his gaze linger as he stared at you from across the room. he was undressing you with his eyes, leaving every trace of you vulnerable, despite your clothes still being on, trying to ignore him and focus on the rest of the group.

it was late in the night, everyone sitting around the fire in the lodge, warming themselves before bed. drinks had been passed around, some blunts smoked here and there.

but he was high off of the info he had about you. and you didn't even know- and it was killing him.

josh's attraction had been bubbling up for quite some time, and he couldn't help but think you wanted him too. a sweet, innocent, naive girl, too scared to hurt a fly- you often became flustered at his comments and flirty remarks. with you- he wasn't even trying to be funny, or witty.

he was so fucking truthful when he always whistled at you, giving your hip a gentle pat as he'd put his arm around you from behind. pipsqueak was your name, because he was so much bigger then you.

everyone was.

but as sexual secrets were being passed around, and you claimed you had none, everyone teasing you- he knew that wasn't true. he was scrolling only fans as one did on a late friday night after smoking- and he had stumbled across something that made his heart drop, his dick get even harder.

it was you- though you didnt show your face, he could tell just from your body it was you. the body he fantasized over for so many nights, here- in front of him.

and just his luck, you were letting people join for free on this one night. it was fate. clicking on yoru profile, he skimmed through all your content, few things- as it looked like you had started not too long ago.

he couldn't help but touch himself as he stared at your naked mirror selfies, or little skirts, and if he was lucky- a video of you touching yourself with your skirt hiked up.

the skirt you wore now was the same on in that video. he watched as you hid your face in embrassment at everyones teasing, and couldnt help but let his lips curl up into a smirk.

"fine, if you havent done anything, do you at least like someone?" you murmered somethin lowly, turning your head towards the fire.

"what was that pipsqueak?" he taunted, his long leg reaching over to nudge your leg. "do i have to?"

"yes bitch! we all spilled, you gotta give us something here."

you took a breath, eyes catching his for a split second. "i like josh."

"ayooo i knew it!" mike grinned cheekly, looking over at josh. "we all knew that." jess teased, nudging your arm.

"don't hold that over my head please." you begged at josh and he winked. "everything is over your head baby." he teased and you groaned.

"alright. well just cause i said that, i deserve a hot shower before bed. goodnight gang." you stood up, giving the group a little salute before turning in the wrong direction.

"wrong direction pips." josh called, making the others laugh. he had to come and direct you, turning you the other way, his hand rubbing little circles on your back, fingers slipping under your shirt.

he was warm and you couldnt help but lean into him as he waved goodnight to the group, throwing them a wink as he guided you down the hall to your room.

"so you like me, hm?"

"that was a drunk thought." you sputtered out as he guided you futher from the group.

"you've had two drinks and a puff of my blunt. you're sober baby."

"whatever.." you mumbled under your breath, making him chuckle. you bit your lip as his hand slip to rest on your hip, fingers stretching down to brush the curve of your ass.

god you wanted him. it was fucking killing you, and him. his cock strained against his jeans, and he wasnt sure how much longer he could wait.

it was like a leash had snapped, when you had admitted to having a crush on him, and even that you wanted to fuck him. he had all the conformation he needed.

"you stumbled into the empty bedroom and he turned the lock, walking over to you- making you stumble back and hit the edge of the bed.

"so you wanna fuck me? is that it?"

"dont taunt me." you moaned softly, fingers gripping the sheets subtly.

"im not trying to taunt you baby, you know i just joke. but you really want me to fuck you? i thought you were miss innocent?" he toyed, leaning down enough to make you go down on your elbows. he bit his lip, eyes tracing your cleavage through your top. your breath went shallow.

"i am joshy i swear."

"really miss pornstar?" you froze.

"i'm not a pornstar joshy dont be silly." his eyebrow cocked, and he leaned close enough you were pratically smuthered by his large frame, tounge darting out to lap at your neck.

"is that so misskittycat?" you moaned as he nipped your neck, teeth biting the skin playfully.

"i dont know what your talking about.."

"you touch yourself so pretty baby. ya know i touched myself to that? it was so much better then in my head. such a pretty pussy." he hummed.

"maybe you can show me how you touch yourself so i can, yeah?"

at this point, you were putty. you couldnt hold up the innocent act any longer. youd do anythng he'd ask, and do it happily.

"i think about you when i do it." you confessed, and he chuckled deeply.

"yeah? you wanna say that to the camera sweetheart?" you turned, seeing an old camcorder opened on the dresser.

"wh-"

"dont worry, its not on. just had it here from a few trips ago. did you want me to turn it on?"

your eyes widdened. "d-did you want to?"

"i asked you the question pips." he smiled as he placed his large hands on your hips, fingers brushing your skin and making you dizzy/

"w-we could film ah- content if you want.."

"yeah?" his voice dropped, and you felt yourself swoon as he kissed you gently, slipping his tounge in your mouth faster then you could think. "yeah" you moaned out as he moved his hands down to push your legs open.

he broke the kiss, reaching over with ease to click the camera on, and you watched as the little red light started to blink. "we're rolling honey. but its just you and me okay? just focus- hey- focus on me okay?" he gripped your chin and guided your gaze back to him. you dumbly nodded, leaning into his touch.

"is this okay?" he asked softly, guiding your hand down to touch your soaked panties. you nodded.

"why dont you show me how you touch yourself baby? so i do it just how you like." you felt heat rise in your cheeks, limbs tingely as you dipped your hands down your panties.

"cmon show the camera baby." he manhandled you, picking you up with ease to turn you around, tugging your panties to the side. you shamelessly dipped your finger inside, moaning softly as you curled it.

"oh yeah like that?" he teased, finger darting up to rub your clit. you squrimed at the pressure he applied, rubbing slow gentle circles. "y-yes fuck joshy"

"oh dont get shy on me now." he laughed, taking your finger out to replace it with his own. you let out a gasp, a look of surprise on your face at the larger sensation, his fingers reaching spots you didnt even know fingers could reach.

"oh i know baby, its so much bigger then yours hm?" his fingers curled and you bowed, letting out a loud moan as you squirmed again. his dirty talk had your head going empty like static on an old tv.

"yeah baby im gonna take such good care of you."

[holdmytesseract]

Safe Haven

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: When Daryl threatens to lose his grip and gets swallowed by the trauma he experienced in the Sanctuary, you try your best to catch him and being his safe haven he desperately needs.

Warnings: quite some angst, fluff, insecurity? mentions of scars, injuries and torture, nudity, FEELS, FEELS, FEELS

Set in Season 7!

Word Count: 3k

a/n: This story is based on an idea from @erebus-et-eigengrau . I hope you like how this turned out, lovely friend! 🤗

EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Daryl?" You spoke his name in a quiet voice as you took the archer's hand slowly and carefully in yours. His fingers twitched, but didn't pull away from your gentle hold. "Do you trust me?" Your voice was just above a whisper; so afraid to scare him off or make him feel even more comfortable than he probably already felt.

Tainted, yet still incredibly beautiful blue eyes met yours, as Daryl lifted his gaze; peeking through long strands of sweaty, greasy chestnut brown hair which hung in his face. You patiently waited for an answer while your thumb had absent-mindedly started to caress the rough skin on the back of his hand - an attempt to provide him some comfort and reassurance.

The archer started to nod; merely noticeable, but he did. "'M trustin' ya," he added quietly; voice even more raspy than usually. Hearing those words leaving his lips caused your heart to skip a beat. Sure, you and Daryl had been a thing for quite a few months now and deep down you knew that he had been always trusting you. Unless he'd have never opened his heart for you. But nevertheless was it wonderful to hear.

You nodded, "Okay." gently squeezed his hand and gave him a small smile. "Come with me?" Daryl nodded once more; wordlessly and let you guide him wherever it was you wanted to take him.

Your destination was the small trailer you - and now Daryl, shared in Hilltop. Crickets and some distant chatter from the other residents was all that could be heard alongside yours and the archer's steps through the grass.

You led Daryl inside your home and closed the door behind the both of you - never letting go of his hand. Not even for a second. Cautiously stepping closer, you lifted your free hand to cup his cheek; feeling the greyish hairs of his beard tickle your palm. Daryl's eyes fluttered shut at your touch; a soft gasp leaving his lips.

Your eyes widened. "Fuck..." You cursed under your breath; knowing that you just did what you swore you wouldn't do. Unintentional or not. "Daryl, no, I-" You inhaled a shaky breath; afraid to hurt him. "I put that wrong. I don't ask you to tell me what... What happened there. I would never force you to do so. Never. It's entirely up to you. Your decision." You gave his hand another reassuring squeeze. "A-All I wanted to say is... We need to give you a shower and fresh clothes... Your wounds... They... I don't want them to get infected. L-Let me take care of you, please?" Your gaze never left Daryl's; always checking in on him - on how he felt.

"My love... I won't ever force you to this..." you started; gently tracing the last remains of a bruise underneath the archer's eye. "Never, b-but-" Before you could even finish your sentence, you felt Daryl flinch slightly; a literal storm of emotions starting to rage inside his eyes - and you immediately realised that you had chosen the wrong words.

Daryl had escaped Negan and the Sanctuary not even a day ago and whatever they had done to him... Whatever he had experienced... You knew it was something traumatic. Something horrible. He hadn't told you. Not even a word - and you would never force him to do so. If he ever wanted to talk, you were going to welcome him with open arms and a sympathetic ear. You were his partner after all. You'd wait until he was ready to open up to you - whenever it might be. One day, one week, one month, one year - or hence, even never. All you cared about was his well-being and safety.

The archer swallowed at your words; seemingly giving your words a thought, before he bobbed his head in a small nod. "Y-Yeah, a'right," he whispered and turned his head only a few inches; just enough that he was able to press a feather-light kiss against your palm.

Another soft smile darted over your face and you retreated your hand from his cheek. Then you gave the hand which was still neatly tucked in yours a small tug; urging him on to follow you again - what he did.

The bathroom wasn't really spacious. Barely big enough to fit two people inside, but you had less and definitely worse. You wouldn't complain. Never. This was the end of the world after all. You'd take what you get and make it work.

Once again you closed the door behind the two of you, before returning to face the man you loved. "You trust me?" You repeated your question from earlier, now that he knew what you were up to - just to make sure. Your thumb worked gentle circles in the skin on the back of his hand.

It wasn't like you had never seen him shirtless or well, naked before, no. You did. That wasn't the point. But this right now... This was different. So much more... intimate. Perhaps the most intimate moment in your relationship so far, since you and the archer had yet to take the step of being physically joined. You, neither Daryl didn't want to just rush into things. You both agreed to take your time - which definitely proved to be the right decision, because you and the archer weren't exactly experts in romantic relationships.

Like before was Daryl's answer a clear 'Yes'. Giving his hand a last squeeze, you let go - much to the archer's dismay. His hand twitched - unbeknownst to you, as he held back the urge to chase after your hand - your reassuring touch, which kept him grounded.

Instead were hovering your hands now above his shoulders; fingertips grazing the plaid shirt he wore over the white t-shirt. "M-May I?" You asked hesitatingly; again afraid to make him feel uncomfortable, despite his promise of trust.

Nevertheless did it happen from time to time, that one would walk in on the other after a shower or while getting dressed to which you and Daryl got used to and normally were comfortable with. It had taken him quite a while longer than you, though, given the fact of how insecure he was. Not exactly about his body itself, but the scars which were covering it - a steady reminder of his abusive father and the traumatic past he had experienced. You felt absolutely honoured; heart aching with love, as he started to feel comfortable enough around you to be shirtless and even naked.

A higher declaration of love didn't exist. Not when your name was Daryl Dixon.

You squatted down and made quick work to untie the laces of his shoes. "Can you take off your shoes for me, love?"

"Y-Yeah," Daryl's deep voice managed to snap you out of your thoughts; giving you permission to help him. You smiled gently and shrugged the plaid shirt over his shoulders, down his arms; throwing it carelessly aside on the floor. Next was the sweaty, stained t-shirt he wore.

"Can you...?" You asked; gently tapping his elbows. "O-Or does it hurt?" Wordlessly, Daryl lifted his arms and let you pull the dirty t-shirt slowly and carefully over his head; leaving him shirtless - and the sight you were greeted with caused a gasp to leave your lips. His upper body was littered with bruises and cuts. Your heart ached seeing all his injuries; violently inflicted to the man you loved. You swallowed hard, "Daryl..." quietly calling out his name; voice filled with hurt. The archer lowered his head. "'S okay... H-Had worse," he muttered and definitely tried to downplay the extent of his pain - physically and probably even mentally.

You instantly shook your head. "N-No, it... It's not. They hurt you..." Tears gathered in your eyes, as your fingertips hovered over a particularly dark bruise on his rips. You didn't receive an answer. Daryl's eyes were still directed at the ground, but you could see that he was chewing on the inside of his bottom lip. You couldn't quite tell what was going on in that pretty head of his. Was it insecurity? Shame? Guilt? Fear? All of it? Whatever it was that had captured the archer's mind, you knew it wasn't good and therefore immediately tried to pull him out of this again.

Your hand found his again; fingers intertwining as you guided him towards the trailer's shower. You slid the creme-white curtain aside and opened the tap; hand underneath the water jet to feel the temperature. Once the water was pleasantly warm, you turned to face Daryl. "Water is ready. I, uh, I'm going to give you some space now, okay? Call me whenever you need me, yeah? I'll be just outside the door." You squeezed his hand and gave him another soft smile, before letting go and stepping aside.

Your tender voice urging to Daryl's ears seemed to do the trick. Slowly, he lifted his gaze; even more troubled blue eyes meeting yours, as he started to kick off his shoes, together with the socks.

Now there was only his jeans and underwear left. Hesitatingly, you reached for the button and zipper of his pants. Locking eyes with the archer once more, you silently asked for his permission again. When there was no objection, you continued and helped him step out of his jeans first and lastly out of the grey, absolutely uncomfortable looking briefs. A few small grunts left his lips; clearly indicating that his body was definitely aching and hurting - which gave your heart another jolt. And Daryl? Daryl didn't even do as much as flinch. His gaze was still directed on the floor; his mind most likely returning to wander down that dark path like minutes before.

You cursed yourself internally.

Space. The word echoed through Daryl's head like the ring of a gunshot. Well, it certainly felt like a bullet had pierced his heart to leave him aching and bleeding. Space... It was the last thing he wanted from you. Watching you walk away only caused to double the pain. He needed you as close as possible. You had been already too far away from him for the last weeks. He couldn't bear to lose you again - even if it was just for a few minutes.

"N-No, please... Stay. D-Dun'- Dun' wantcha to go," he whispered; voice strained and raspy. It caused you to stop dead in your tracks. Stay? He wanted you to stay? Your heart skipped yet another beat. You swiftly turned to face him once again. The expression on Daryl's face broke you. He looked so... lost. Desperate. Afraid. And once again, you immediately noticed that you had just committed another mistake.

How could you leave him alone after all he's been through; thinking he needed the space, when it was clearly written all over his face that he needed everything but space?

"Of course, I'll stay. If that's what you want..." You spoke in a compassionate voice; the gears in your brain turning.

"Do you feel comfortable enough for me to join you? T-That okay for you, o-or...?" You asked Daryl cautiously; not wanting to take this too far. But to your slight surprise nodded the man opposite you immediately. "Please..." That one word was enough.

You made quick work to shed your own clothes; leaving you entirely bare as well. Daryl didn't make a sound. Except for shy eyes travelling your now exposed body - and his cheeks flushed. You took his hand in yours again; unbeknownst anchoring him to you - to the here and now and not letting him wander off to the Sanctuary again.

With a soft smile, you gently tucked at the archer's hand; pulling him into the shower and underneath the pleasantly warm water jet after you.

He was visibly comfortable - and that was all that mattered.

The water was quick to get the both of you soaking wet; Daryl's chestnut brown bangs sticking to his face. You brought your hands up and gently peeled the loose strands away and out of his face; not missing the opportunity to caress his beardy cheeks. The archer just stared at you in silence and didn't even move an inch. He relied completely on you, as if he had lost the control over his own body. His heart in the palm of your hands.

"C'mere, sweets," your voice grabbed his attention - and the lack of warm water cascading down his beaten and bruised body. He blinked and took a step closer to you. "I'm going to wash your hair now, is that okay?" Daryl gave a confirming nod and within seconds had you squirted some shampoo on your hands and buried them in his curls; massaging gently. The man's eyes slipped shut with a cute grunt and groan of relaxation and satisfaction. You couldn't help but smile.

While you washed the archer's hair, he was fighting the urge to bury his head in the crook of your neck and shoulder; hands twitching to cup your hips - but he didn't dare to do so; too afraid to cross a line. He didn't want to do something wrong and push you away. It was a nightmare he wasn't strong enough to fight right now. Never - if he was being honest.

Once you had rinsed the brown mop of hair on his head, you moved on to his body - but not without asking for his consent again. You were even more hesitant and cautious in that regard, since touching his head and touching his whole body were two very different things...

"Dar... Will you allow me to..." You questioned him almost nervously; trailing off and kinda awkwardly gesturing between the bottle of shower gel and him. "I-I don't have to. Y-You can-" "I trust ya." And once again were - this time three - words enough from the man in front of you to jump into action; feeling a rush of love flooding your veins. He was trusting you enough to let you touch his body. Even in the vulnerable state he was currently in. It meant the world to you and you were determined to show him. You gave him yet another sweet smile and went to work; always making sure to capture his eyes now and then to make sure he was still okay with what your hands were doing.

Rinsing off the remaining soap, you got the first real close look of the tattoo on his shoulder blade and his scars, of course. You felt a pang of compassion and sorrow deep in your heart. Life had certainly left its marks on him. That much was clear. He didn't deserve this... All the pain. All the hurt. All the losses he had to endure. It wasn't fair.

You started with his soaping his upper body; feeling the bumps of his scars underneath your palm - what you didn't mind at all, of course. You had told him a hundred of times by now that he was beautiful to you no matter what.

Your touch was soft and delicate; making sure to not hurt him and being cautious about his cuts and bruises. Unfortunately, you couldn't prevent the shower gel from getting into the deeper cuts, which caused Daryl to hiss and you to repeatedly mutter the words 'I'm so sorry.'. Then you moved on to his legs and gave them a gentle scrub as well, before you went to rinse the soap off of his body again; starting with the front and lightly tapping his shoulder to signal him to turn around for you - what the archer did. Wordlessly - but words weren't needed anyway. Not between the both of you.

Returning the shower head back into its holder, you felt the overwhelming urge to give him all the love he deserved and slowly snuck your arms around his waist; pressing your smaller body against his back. Daryl flinched slightly at the sudden contact, but his muscles relaxed instantly again; knowing it was you and not just anybody. And yet he couldn't stop the gasp to leave his mouth when your lips started to trail a path of kisses over ever single scar and bruise; mapping out his broad back.

Until now.

Daryl's eyes slipped shut; a feel of love and comfort rushing through his veins - so much, it was overwhelming. It was like the connection he shared with you had reached a new kind of depth - in the most positive way. He hadn't felt this loved and accepted in years, decades even. Not before you stumbled into his life.

Daryl had felt like falling deeper and deeper; a dark hole sucking him in. It was like his body was present, but his mind still stuck in the hellhole Negan had caged him in.

Emotions exploded within Daryl; his heart threatening to burst from his ribcage with all the love it was feeling. He couldn't help himself but to turn in your embrace and press his forehead against the crook of your neck; not hesitating this time.

Now all he could feel and see was you. Even when he closed his eyes.

Sure, the archer's mind would still need some more time to heal, but you had caught him; kept him from losing his grip.

His sudden movement caught you by surprise at first, but then you just smiled and buried your hands in his wet curls, while Daryl's calloused, gentle hands skimmed over your bare back, sides and hips. But not in a sexual way. All the archer wanted was to feel you; needing to convince his brain that you were truly real - and his. Yes, it was the most intimate moment you and Daryl shared - and it was perfect.

Sure, sex was great, but that... That was a whole other level of intimacy. It was so much more.

You were so lost in the moment, that you didn't notice how your archer's tears mixed with the warm water still cascading down over your intertwined bodies, as he almost frantically held onto you.

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[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Hannibal X Reader: An ethical issue

Summary: you wanna fuck your therapist thats it thats the plot

Warnings: smut, sex, penetration (p in v), fingering, pet names, making out, light choking, light bitting, hickeys, patient x therapist, unprotected sex, pet name (dear), not proof read (got lazy)

Word count: 2,9K

“It's unethical, you know?”

You raise your head to look at Hannibal, eyes making contact with his. He can see the questions swimming inside your head. You’d been deep in thought when he’d spoken and he had managed to break your train of thought . You placed your cup on the table, wiping your hands on your legs before focusing on Hannibal once more.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“It's unethical.”

“What is?”

“Wanting to fuck your therapist.”

Your eyes widen at Hannibal's words. His eyes bore into you, observing the way your face flushed the more he maintained eye contact. You should probably refute him but it's no use. Dr Lecter has seen into the deepest parts of your mind. He knows who you are. And now he knows your secret. The truth is the sessions had really been helping. It wasn't until recently that you’d found an ulterior motive for coming to every session. 

You had a crush on your therapist. 

You focus your gaze on the wall in front of you, trying your hardest to avoid looking directly at him. Your mind races to try and find something to say but you come up empty. From the corner of your eye you see Hannibal stand. He stays standing for a moment, looking at your frame. You close your eyes as you hear his shoes begin to move against the floor. A nervous sigh leaves your mouth as you feel his body move closer to your position. He stops a couple steps before you, causing you to bite the inside of your cheek. You wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole. Maybe you should just apologize to him. Tell him he was right and that you would figure out a way to get over him but that would be a lie. And if there was one thing you could never do to Hannibal was lie. He knew you too well. He'd be able to call you out immediately. 

Hannibal watched you squirm slightly, observing your nails scrap against your skin as you rubbed your arms nervously. You still hadn't looked at him. He had already begun to miss the eye contact. Hannibal called out your name.

“Look at me.”

“I can’t.”

“Of course you can, my dear. I want to see your eyes.”

His voice sent shivers down your arms. He was always soft spoken with you but the deepness of his voice as he spoke seemed to have shifted. Slowly, you turn your head to look at him. You have to raise your head a bit to see him properly due to the position you were in. Hannibal stared down at you tenderly. He looked at the doe eyed look that had made its way into your features. A smile spread across his face, a silent way of trying to calm you. Unfortunately it did quite the opposite. His smile seemed to stroke the fire that was already burning in between your legs. You shifted in your seat, trying to conceal your desire for him. Hannibal noticed the way you shift under his gaze. It made him feel powerful. He enjoyed it but he also couldn't help but reach out for you. 

“I can help you. If you ask me to.”

You watched Hannibal sink to his knees, allowing him to be face to face with you. You stare into his eyes, head tilting to the side as you do. He reached out for you, one hand moving to caress your thigh as the other made its way to your face. He’s trying his best to hold on, not wanting to go too fast and scare you off.

From the moment he’d first seen you you’d intrigued him. Despite everything you’d been through you were kind and trusting. Maybe even a little too trusting. It made Hannibal feel protective over you. He saw himself as your knight in shining armour and despite you not knowing it he would do anything you asked of him. 

“Hannibal…”

Your lips part as his name slips through them. It sounds almost like a moan which causes blood to go rushing down to Hannibal's groin.

“Yes dear?”

“I…I hum-”

“It’s okay. Tell me what you want.”

“You. I want you.”

A satisfied sound left Dr Lecter's lips at your confession. You shut your eyes expecting him to finally close the distance between you two but he doesn’t. Instead he rises from the floor and begins to walk away from you. You give him a puzzled look. Had he just been toying with you? Was this some sort of experiment? If it was you were sure you’d failed. But if that was the case why had he given you a hum of approval? 

“Come back to the real world dear. Don’t get stuck inside your own head.”

You forced your brain to focus on what was really happening instead of dwelling on negative thoughts. You’d been exercising your focus ever since your first session with Hannibal and you’d gotten pretty good with coming back to reality. Hannibal could tell by the way you looked at him that you'd managed to silence your mind. He gave you a proud smile.

“That's the fastest you’ve ever focused. Well done dear.”

“Thank you.”

“Come sit with me.” 

You rose from your chair, making your way to the blue loveseat Hannibal was sitting in.  You left a small amount of space between you too. The appropriate amount of space you thought there should be between a patient and their doctor. Hannibal couldn’t help but shake his head.

“Always so formal.”

“You’re one to talk. I don’t think I've ever seen you without a suit on.”

“Do you think about that a lot? Me without a suit I mean.”

“More often than I should if I'm being honest.”

It was strange. Despite everything that had happened moments ago this whole conversation still felt extremely professional. You felt like you were in one of your regular sessions. The only difference was the change of topics and the sitting layout. 

“You can come closer. I won't bite.”

Hannibal paused for a moment, turning his head so that he was looking directly in your eyes.

“Unless you want me to.”

He’d expected you to be shocked, perhaps even to get up from your spot due to his bluntness but to his surprise you didn’t. Actually you did quite the opposite. You began to laugh. He’d never heard the sound of your laugh before but he enjoyed it thoroughly. He’d have to make you laugh more often. 

Once your laughter died down you went back to looking at Hannibal. He watched your eyes shift over his face before you lifted your hand. Your fingers grazed against his cheek as you traced his skin. He never broke eye contact, eyes glued to yours even as you caressed his face. 

“I don’t think you have any idea how handsome you are.”

Your statement caught him off guard.  Your soft touches and loving gaze combined with your tender words had managed to make his head spin. For the first time in a while Hannibal felt his stomach bloom with what he could only describe as butterflies. He’d started off this conversation with the intention of touching on a sore subject, your infatuation with him, and had ended up discovering something about himself. It was unethical for you to want him but what was even worse is that he wanted you too. 

He’d moved so quickly that you hadn’t had time to react. Before you knew it Hannibal's lips were crashing into yours. Your body fell down onto the loveset at the force of Hanibal’s kiss, causing you to find yourself trapped beneath him. Your legs widened on instinct, allowing him to slot his large frame between them. Hannibal’s kiss was rough but caring. He nipped at your lower lip as his hands guided you to wrap your arms around his neck. You did as he asked, fingers digging into his shoulders as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. His mouth may have muffled your moans but it couldn't stop you from bucking up into him. You felt the outline of his dick against your thighs causing you to whine.

Hannibal loved the way you felt against him. He loved how your fingers clung to his hair as he kissed you. He loved the feel of your breasts pressed against his chest. But most of all he loved how desperate you were for him. You decided to wear a dress today. You didn’t  even really known why but you were glad you had. 

And so was Hannibal. 

One of his hands traveled down to your clothed cunt his fingers moving to the edge of your dress. He broke the kiss for a moment, leaning his head down so that he could see what he was doing. You watched him push your dress up allowing him to see your underwear. Hannibal’s head snapped up to look at your face. He gave you a small grin.

“Lovely color.”

“Shut u-hum!”

Hannibal’s fingers moved over your lips spreading them open before beginning to insert a digit inside. Your mouth fell open at the feeling, a broken moan slipping from your lips as it did. Hannibal watched your face fill with ecstasy as he continued to finger you. He’d orignally planned on bending you over his desk and fucking you from behind. But now that he’d seen the angelic look that came over your face as he pleasured you he knew he wanted to watch you cum on his dick. He’d fuck you on your back like a gentleman. 

Well, perhaps not like a gentleman. 

He’s barely done anything and you're already babbling nonsense beneath him. 

“Hannibal i-i fuck- there please there.”

“That feel good?”

“Yes please i wanna… i wanna-”

“Tell me what you want dear.”

“I wanna cum. Please make me cum.”

The way you beg for him makes him think the men you’d been with before hadn't really cared about your pleasure. The thought angers him but it also motivates him to show you how good you can feel. He enters a third digit and you can’t help but latch onto him as you cry out.  You pull his body closer to yours and he lets you. He feels your hardened nipples rub against his clothed chest making him want nothing more but to rip off his shirt. Later though, right now he needs to focus. His hand moves expertly against your pussy thumb moving to caress your clip as his fingers continue to penetrate you. You sigh out his name making him lift his head from where he was looking so that he could stare into your eyes. 

“Hanni… I'm gonna cum.”

“Go on then, cum for me.”

It was as if a verbal command was all that you needed to let loose. The second the words had left Hannibal's lips he felt your cum begin to coat his fingers. He watched your lips part, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you spasmed against him.

What a sight you were.

Hannibal removed his fingers from inside you placing a kiss to your temple before he rose to his feet. Your head lolled to the side, trying to follow him despite your blissed out state. Through blurry vision you saw Hannibal remove his suit jacket placing it carefully on his desk chair. He began unbuttoning his shirt slowly. As he did so he watched you come back to earth. Once you’d gained feeling in your body again you turned over, lifting yourself up so that you could watch Hannibal undress. He felt your eyes on him turning to face you. You gave him a smile which he returned.

“How are you feeling dear?”

“Wonderfull.”

“I’m glad. Tired?”

“Not really. Why?”

Hannibal tugged down his pants in one quick movement allowing his dick to spring free. You watched his member bob for a moment before turning your attention back to his face. 

“Because i’m going to fuck you. Take your dress off for me.”

You tugged at the edge of your dress pulling it off your body with ease. Once you’d gotten it off you threw it to the side before moving to unclasp your bra. Hannibal watched you throw your bra in the pile along with the rest of your clothes. 

“Stand for me dear.”

You did as he asked, hands moving to fidget with each other as he made his way back to you. Hannibal placed his hands on your cheek, cradling your face in them. His eyes trailed over your naked body before he gazed into your eyes once more.

“You are magnificent.”

Your lips latched onto Hannibals in desperation, legs moving backwards  towards the love seat. You crashed down onto a small couch once more tugging Hannibal down with you. You thought maybe he’d scold you for your desperation but by the look in his eyes and the feeling of his hard on against your thigh you could tell he needed this just as much as you did. You spit in your hand moving to stroke Hannibal's dick. He groaned against you, allowing you to caress him for a moment. He rested his face against your neck breathing in your scent as you stroked his member. His teeth grazed against your collarbone making you bite your lip. He sucked at your shoulder enjoying the small gasp that left your lips. Hannibal maneuvered his hand so that he could wrap it around your wrist stopping you from moving. 

“That's enough dear. I want to be inside now. Do you want me inside?”

“Yes Dr Lecter.”

Hannibal grined down at you as you gave him a cheeky smile. Without any warning he plunged into you making your body move backwards at the force. He fucked you with incredible speed, hips moving in a pace you didn’t think was possible. You dug your nails into his back as he continued to ram into you.  His hand moved to your throat, fingers wrapping around it with a gentle squeeze. Once he saw you didn’t flinch away from him he tightened his grip around you, not enough to stop your breathing but enough to give you a bit of a thrill. It was embarrassing how fast you reached your orgasm. Before you even realized you had begun spilling your juices around Hannibal's dick. You’d been so high on your own plesure you only noticed when Hannibal let ou a small “fuck” against your ear. Your body sagged into the loveseat as Hannibal continued to pistol into you. For someone whose job consisted of sitting for most of the time he had a lot of stamina. You drifted off into your head only realizing Hannibal had finished when you felt his body fall into yours. He wrapped his arms around you pulling you as close into his as physically possible. You moved to stroke his hair instinctively, the need to touch him consuming you.

“You did so well for me dear. Rest now.”

Hannibal placed a kiss on your chest. You felt him pull out of you making you feel empty. But you didn’t feel that way for long because before you knew it you had drifted off into sleep. 

You woke up on the loveset. Your lips part as you stretch, a yawn escaping your mouth. You could feel something soft surrounding you causing you to open your eyes. A blanket that hadn’t been there when you had fallen asleep was carefully wrapped around your naked frame. You pushed yourself onto your elbow, rubbing your eyes as you gazed around the room. 

“Sleep well?”

Your head snapped at the sound of his voice. Hannibal was standing on the other side of the room with his back turned to you. He was still completely naked. When you didn’t respond to his question Hannibal turned on his heels to face you. Instinctively your eyes trailed over his naked body, your mind going to last night's events. You moved to look at the clock on the wall. It read 9 o’clock.

“Don’t you have any appointments today?”

“I canceled.”

“Why would you do that?”

“So that we could have breakfast together.”

Hannibal moved away from the table he’d been working on giving you a clear view of the breakfast he’d laid out. You rose from the loveseat moving towards him. Hannibal watched you make your way to him, admiring the beauty of your body as you moved. He could see the hickeys he’d left on your neck last night. The sight pleased him greatly.

You looked over the contents of the table. Everything looked delicious. You shifted your gaze to Hannibal, a smile spreading over your face. You wrapped your arms around his waist giving him a hug. Hannibal's arms wound around your body, his hands moving to hold your head. 

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. Now sit. Your food is getting cold.”

The two of you sat down and began to eat. The room was quiet as you ate. It was a sort of quiet you’d become accustomed too. The quiet that came when your mind decided it needed to jump into action.

“What are you thinking over there?”

“What are we gonna do? About us, I mean. We clearly crossed a line yesterday.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No, of course not. Do you?”

“No. I do not.”

“Someone could find out. It could ruin your job.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t. It’ll be our little secret. Patient confidentiality and all that.”

“Our secret huh?”

“Is that alright with you?”

“Yeah. It is.”

“Wonderful. Now drink your coffee and finish your eggs.”

[crsssie]

'cause now I'm scared to love the thought of you the way you did with me

word count: 10.6k

summary: love, you know. you, simon knows.

The first time Simon ever met you, he had the aching feeling that he knew you already.

No, not the sense of deja vu you get in snippets throughout your life. He felt the strange sense that he had known you all his life and had done something to wrong you somehow. He's four. Four-year-olds should not know that feeling. Especially not the sense that somehow, he had broken your heart or betrayed you. He's never met you before — that much, he's certain. He'd know. You're his age, so it's not like this feeling can be from knowing you as an infant. He doesn't remember that far back.

You wave at him, grinning as you pull him off with his brother to hang out as your parents talk to his mom, and you show him what it means to play.

When he leaves later, you ask him if you're friends.

He gives you a blank stare.

You end up in his class later that year, his next-door neighbour and companion, walking home with him from primary school, asking him if he understood anything in class. You're not as bright as he is, Simon thinks. You struggle a little more with certain concepts, and you argue with the teachers over ways to do certain things. A contradiction of everything, he thinks. He mulls over what you are and what you are not. How do you feel simultaneously like a fifty-year-old and a five-year-old at the same time?

He tugs on you sometimes to calm you down.

"Stop it."

"But it's—"

He gives you a look and you huff.

Simon likes sticking by your place, but he also doesn't enjoy it.

When he goes home, dad beats him because he was with you again.

Can' have them findin' out abou' what I do. y' hear me?

The purple is hard to hide around you. You pry too much. You ask too many questions. You tug Tommy around too much and Tommy talks too much. You don't need to know what it's like at home for him. You ask too many questions about why he's wearing a turtleneck when it's already twenty-two degrees outside. You tug at it, offering one of your shirts, but he can't. You don't need to know. You can't know. You shouldn't know. For some reason.

He wants to hide it from you for some reason.

You seem to know anyway, blinking at Simon curiously as you push back his sleeve, staring at the purple.

"You should report him, you know?"

"Ma wouldn't like that."

"So you'd rather be beat? Is it not just a fear factor?"

You don't speak like you're from around there either. You have a mixed accent. Like you've been in an amalgamation of countries and grew up everywhere at once. You don't feel like you're from Manchester. You had moved, sure, but you're young. You seem to be a constant dichotomy between everything and nothing. What does it mean to exist to you? You stare off into nothing the same way his ma does. But time travel doesn't exist or whatever. It's impossible to be sent back in time. All of that is just science fiction.

Pondering. Is that the word?

"What are y' looking at?"

"I'm thinking." You hum, blinking back to life. "That cloud looks like a rabbit."

"No. Looks like a duck."

"Well, now that it's moved." You huff. "That one's a heart."

"That one looks like a dog."

"I don't see it."

"The four legs?"

"Hm."

"'kay, well, that one's a worm."

"See that."

"mhm."

Dad is taken away at one point. Simon returns home to police at his door, hauling his drunken dad out as another officer comforts his mom, and he leads Tommy inside.

"You Simon?"

"Yes ma'am."

"This Tommy?"

"Mhm."

"You won't need to worry about that man anymore."

"Dad." Simon says. "Dad."

"You won't need to worry about him hitting you anymore."

"He makes all the money. Where are we t' go?"

He spots your parents with his ma, and he wonders where you are.

"They said they'll take you all in." The woman tells him.

Your place isn't big enough for all of them.

Yet, when he's brought home to your family, the guest room is set up, yet he finds himself in your room when he can't sleep, staring at you quietly in the dark, watching as you rub your eyes tiredly and scooch over to make space for him.

He still fits in your bed at this point in time.

"Does that make us siblings?" You whisper, getting yourself comfortable as you tangle limbs with him.

Simon wants to say yes. He does. But there's something else he wants, he supposes. He pauses.

"Maybe."

Room for maybe not. Maybe yes.

Maybe it's a cruel joke that he failed to fall asleep with his mother yet knocked right out with you. He's not so lucky as to be able to do it, and he understands that he's a guest so he shouldn't get too comfortable with the host, but you seem to abandon all care and treat him as though you really were siblings. You share everything with him, and he doesn't get why it hurts when you do.

The maybe was a maybe yes to you, maybe.

The maybe was a no to him. It was maybe not.

There's something in his chest that twists uncomfortably when you treat him like a sibling, abandoning all care for it, and he understands that maybe it's what his mother felt when she had been with his father. He doesn't know how long he'll be able to squeeze here with you. Maybe he'll eventually grow to be too big. He knows he will. He's not supposed to be sleeping with you. He sees it in the way your parents shake the both of you awake in the morning with all the concern for you.

It's almost as if he shouldn't be friends with you at all.

Yet, you don't give him the ability to choose, telling your parents that it didn't matter because Simon was like a brother to you.

The concept of siblings should not hurt Simon as much as it does.

He nods along, and you lace your fingers with him and Tommy, telling your parents you're thrilled that you can finally have the brothers you've always wanted.

Your parents let it go and his mom apologizes for the case, but your parents assure her that it's all you and none him.

Simon keeps his fingers laced with you all the way until the two of you get to the classroom.

You don't mind the teasing from the kids, and in turn, Simon doesn't seem to either.

That's how you spend the rest of primary school, tangled limbs with Simon, tugging and dragging him around with you to different things, and he learns to grow comfortable in your presence. The strange sense that he's done something wrong eventually fizzes into nothing that he worries about. The certainty you have in your friendship keeps Simon afloat even when his family eventually moves into a flat nearby.

You hang out at his place after classes, doing homework with him, munching on snacks you bring from the local supermarket on your way back from classes, humming and chewing on the chips as you do homework.

You struggle less than Simon now.

It's like you know.

The strange feeling that you know everything yet nothing lingers despite the guilt leaving. You blink at him quietly and sleep over occasionally, humming quietly as you lay on the mattress on the ground, staring up at nothing.

You do not go through puberty the same way Simon does.

Simon hits a growth spurt in the early years of secondary school — bed suddenly too small, skin stretching out at the alarming pace he was gaining height, and you hold back laughter when he hits his head in the morning and you laugh from the air mattress. He grumbles as he heads off to wash up, and when he returns, you only smile at him like you know something and he doesn't.

He finds you stare at him with a lot more pride than you used to. It's almost like you're his mother staring at him grow up, and it makes him uncomfortable.

You still sleep in the same room as him because you don't seem to think of him as a threat of any kind.

The girls at school start noticing him as well — whispering happening around him of how he's grown so much and how he's "oh suck a looker" because of his height. You've always told him he looked real pretty. "Blond lashes are rare" you'd told him. "makes you look real pretty, Si". He had flushed red at your compliment, but only because it had been you. He had found that it would only be you. Everything you did, intentional or not, had caused more than enough flustered stumbling from him.

He supposes it is just the curse of a teen in love.

You squeeze his bicep when you pass him in between periods, waving bye to him as you're off to the classes you chose and he didn't.

It's in the periods where you're not by him that the girls like to step up to him and giggle, asking if he's free or if he's all alone.

He wonders if he should lie sometimes.

A no warranted a "well would you want to? what about me?" and a yes warranted a "oh surely you jest" so truly, Simon did not have much a choice. He'd prefer it if you just branded him at that point.

Branded.

You brand him?

He understands that whatever he had felt for you in his earlier years was a sense of yearning, and whatever he felt for you in the current years was most likely closer to love than it is a schoolboy crush. He finds it unfair to do that to you, though. You had only ever seemed to see him as a sibling or something adjacent, cheeks warm and lips curled upwards as you head over to his place with him after classes, helping his mom out with cooking if she needed it, heading home only after dark and making sure that Simon walks you there.

He's utterly and completely a fool for you, he finds.

You could tell him to steal the stars in the sky and he'd somehow find a way.

He finds that it's just a curse, maybe. He's stuck with you and he enjoys it because you had met him at four and suddenly everything you ever did became a benefit to him. You knew what he would do good in, and you knew where he could find a job. Everything from start to finish was as if you had preordained it all. Like you had known before the moment the two of you first met. It was as though you knew everything and were intervening. Some kind of angel for him.

"How was class?"

"Was fine."

He's the one who drags you into the store this time, fishing out cash as he hands you a pack of cough drops, raising a brow when you raise a brow at him.

"You're gonna start coughing soon."

"I still have leftovers from last year."

"y'know tha's not the flavor you like."

You hold a hand over your chest, pretending to be moved as he passes by with a ruffle of your hair.

"Si, you do care!"

"Think I didn't?"

"Maybe."

He follows you home to your place tonight. His ma isn't home and Tommy wanted some alone time with his girlfriend, so he settles at your place. It isn't as though he has no other friends. He's hard to approach because of the deadpan look on his face at all times, but he knows others. You worry that he doesn't so to ease the worry, he has other friends. He thinks about it a little. He only seems to care for what you say. It's been a while since his ma's words have worked on him. Though, he still avoids getting in trouble. She doesn't deserve that, and you'd probably give him a hard time if he really did trouble her in any sort of way.

"How was class?"

"Was fine." He sighs, spreading out his books on the table as you scribble away with yours.

How your hand does not fall off from the writing drives Simon up the wall. Writing has never truly been his strong suit — he's much more fit for his part-time job at the butcher's or fixing your parents' old car when they ask him if he knows what to do with it. He's much better with his hands than he is with his mind at times, but it's never stopped you from just breaking everything down into simpler concepts for him.

"Why d'you do it?" He had asked you once.

"Why wouldn't I?" You left the second part of the sentence hanging in the air.

Simon wonders if he could dare to imagine that the second half of the sentence was an "i love you" the same way that he seemed to love you with.

Though, he'd never know.

You beg your parents to let you spend the night with Simon at the turn of the century, the agreement being that he'd spend the night with you, settling on the floor or your room on an air mattress that he most definitely does not fit in, offering him your bed that's too big for you alone when you're sure your parents are knocked out. He finds himself tangling limbs with you once more, staring down at you as you blink up at him under the sheets, blanket covering the two of you as you open a flashlight. He blinks as you stare at him.

"What?"

"Yer really pretty, Si." You hum. "Can I touch you?"

"Ya nasty—"

"Your face." You mumble. "You can say no."

"'s fine." He mumbles, letting your hands map his face gently as he hums, observing as you seem to memorize something. Patterns of his skin. Your eyes gentle from the flashlight as you press your forehead to his. "You look scared."

"I'll live." You whisper, voice shaking.

You fall asleep in his arms that night, and he wakes up to you tucked under his chin snoring.

He doesn't recover from it.

You suggest him to join a military boot camp over summer after secondary since he wasn't planning on university, tilting your head and shrugging when he asks why. Would suit him. Maybe he'd like it. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. He doesn't need to pursue it. Besides, he doesn't have anything to do either.

"Thirteen weeks is a long time, angel."

"Angel? Well, then, maybe you should embrace what this angel's telling you to do."

He goes per your suggestion, and you send him off with his family and yours, grinning as he frowns at you at the doors with his duffle bag, blowing him a kiss as he fights the blush that snakes up his neck. When he emerges for one final look without his hair, you laugh and play with the new cut, humming quietly as you whisper that you'll be waiting for you after his three months.

He lets himself relax into your touch as your families stand to the side, and he whispers quietly asking you for a goodbye kiss as if he were off to war. He expects you to decline, but you press your lips to his forehead, humming as you lean back and admire the print that's been left behind from your chapstick, laugh on your lips as you reach to wipe it off with your thumb, too occupied with cleaning it off to notice the starstruck look on his face as he stares at you.

"Wait f'r me, won't you?"

"How could I not? As long as you send me off when you're back."

"'f course."

"Come back safe to me, Si. I'll miss you."

His body has muscle memory of everything. The boot camp is significantly easier than he thought it'd be. His muscles remember something he does not, maybe. He treks up and does stellar, ending up personally selected by his managing captain, asked if he ever thought about actually joining the military. He'd suit the SAS. He'd be a great addition to the team, even. He'd get all the military benefits and it doesn't seem like it'd be something that would warrant too much stress for him.

He doesn't know.

Despite his body's ability to survive in such harsh conditions, he finds that he doesn't really want to stay in that state of stress.

When he finishes, his captain hands him a number to call if he ever changes his mind, and he finds you in the crowd. He abandons all the military learning he's received in the last three months just to find himself in your arms once more. He barely cares that the friends he's made are whistling at him as he practically swallows you in his frame. You don't mind. He doesn't mind. It's not a problem.

"'m back."

"Welcome home." You laugh, running your hand through his hair as he buries his face into your shoulder.

"'m missed you."

"I missed you too, Si." You hum, peeking past his shoulder as you wave at his friend. "How was camp?"

"Y'wanna tell me why my body seemed to have no struggle with adaptin?"

You look to the side, whistling as he finally lets go of you, reaching over for his mom, humming as she welcomes him back home with Tommy.

"You have explainin' to do." He points at you, and your parents leave the two of you alone to start on dinner for Simon's return, leaving you in his room as you whistle and avoid his gaze, falling back into his bed with a huff and closing your eyes.

"How was bootcamp?"

"You knew. How did you know."

"I know everything, Si." You close your eyes. "Told you I was a fairy when we were kids."

"Yer less of a fairy and more of father time."

"Who knows. Maybe I'm just cursed with knowledge."

"A curse?"

"Or somethin'." You stare up at his ceiling. "How was bootcamp. Really."

"Offered a spot on the SAS."

"You wanna go?"

Simon turns to stare at you, taking a seat by the floor of the bed as he stares at you, and you turn to face him.

"Y' want me to?"

You stare at him, letting the water in your eyes speak for you.

"Oh, angel. don' cry." He whispers, hand reaching to brush the tears as he frowns. "I wasn' planning to."

"You can go." You mumble. "It's fine. I'm just scared."

"You? Scared?" He pinches your nose, humming quietly as you open your mouth to breathe.

"Yes. Me."

"'m not gonna go. I'll just meet you at uni."

"Simon Riley going to uni?"

"Got a problem with that, angel?" He lets go of your nose when the smile cracks at your face, and you roll over to laugh. "Think I'm too stupid for ya?"

"You wish." You hum. "You think I'd let you fall behind?"

"Never have." He hums, nudging you over as you roll to make space for him on the bed.

"So next cycle? Or are you gonna try somewhere else?"

"Might follow you halfway across the world. You'll fund me, won't ya?"

"Nah. Gonna make you pay rent at least." You swat at his arm playfully as he leans over you, humming as he stares down at you. "Glad your pretty face wasn't ruined."

"Think I'm pretty?"

"Just the lashes."

"Takes too much t' please you." He rolls his eyes, eyes landing on your stomach as your shirt rides up, humming.

"So, did they fuck a lot in the camp? Is it true? Did you guys have a barrack bunny?"

Simon flicks your forehead. "No bunny. yes fucking."

You hold your hands over your mouth, gasping. "tell me more."

"I didn't do anythin'."

"No way."

"Not losing my v-card to a bunch of men in the military."

"Don't know, Si. That sounds like a porno title. Virgin man gets gangbaned by five buff military men... or whatever it is the titles are formatted like."

"'m not even gon' ask how you know that."

You laugh, eyes crinkling as Simon stares.

"'s good to see you again."

"I missed you too." You hum. "I don't mind you going. Really."

"'s my decision to not." He pinches your cheek, glancing at the door as his mother calls for you both to go eat. "I promise."

"Send me to the airport tomorrow?"

"Of course."

You let Simon drive you around before driving you to the airport. You say your goodbyes to your parents at your place, thanking Simon with a grin and a squeeze of his bicep as he lifts all of your luggage into the back of the car. You gasp quietly at the fact that his muscles are harder than before, giving them a second squeeze as he rolls his eyes at you.

"You take that back!"

"Don't know what yer talkin' about."

You don't talk to him too much in the car, too preoccupied with staring out the window. Simon doesn't pry, used to the comfort of your silence when you need it. Besides, you're being sent off to somewhere where you'll be far from him. He wonders if that'll hurt him more or you. You're great, though. You promised you'd write to him, and he's more worried that somehow he will forget to write back to you and you will forget about his existence. You're too far away for comfort.

What if someone else lays eyes on you?

He helps you load the luggage, pulling it with him as you check for your passport, letting Simon put everything down for you, giving his forearm a gentle squeeze in thanks when you arrive with him at the gate. You let him wander around with you before you're supposed to board. He'll wring the final moments you have with him dry, he supposes.

You open your arms for him, squeezing him gently when his arms find themselves around your waist, squeezing you back.

"It's your turn to give me a goodbye kiss." You tap your cheek, tilting your head as you hum, and Simon mumbles under his breath, thumb brushing your bottom lip as he stares down at you for permission.

"You gonna kiss me properly? Real bold of you, Si."

"If you'd let me."

You wrap your arms around his neck, tilting your head as he brushes your bottom lip, staring, staring, staring before letting his lips brush yours gently, softly, and pulling away just as quick. Like a ghost of a kiss — lingering feelings that he can't quite pour out onto you yet because it wouldn't be fair.

"That alright?" He continues to stare at your lips, only snapping out of it when you notice boarding has started.

"More than alright." You reach up to give him a kiss on his cheek, humming as you take two steps back with your luggage. "I'll see you!"

"See you, then."

"Yer gonna let me study abroad without a boyfriend? How cruel of you, Si. Write to me!" You laugh, tugging your carry-on with you as you wave at him from the gate.

Simon stays to stare at you until you've disappeared down the corridor to the plane.

Then, his fingers find his lips where he had kissed you, and then the cheek that you had given him a kiss to.

Ah. He misses you already.

You write to him as promised. You send letters to him and he sends them back, sending you updates on how everyone has been, writing growing more and more illegible with the letters. He wonders if you're able to read everything he sends sometimes, but he eventually sends you a letter with the number slotted into his phone, and when you write to him that you'd be visiting on a certain date, you tell him to pick you up.

The first thing that Simon notices is that you've changed.

Not that you've ever been someone that he's found predictable, but you have changed beyond what Simon can remember from you.

"It's the air." You laugh.

He stares at you, uncertain if he really knows who you are anymore. Was he the one who was being left behind?

You mentioned that you'd never leave him behind.

"Y'sure changed."

"Cultural differences." You open your arms for him, tilting your head when he shakes his head at you.

"'m all smelly from work."

You frown at him.

"Maybe we both changed."

You spend the afternoon lodged at Simon's flat because you didn't want to go home. It's just a week or two, you tell him.

He hands you booze to drink, and you ask him how work has been.

"You still gonna join me?"

"I think I'm alright here."

He fears though, that by doing so, he's going to drift away from you.

"That's good." You grin at him. "If life ever gets too boring, come find me. I'm sure my friends would flip it if some guy who's like a hundred ninety two centimeters tall dropped by and called himself my best friend."

"You talk about me?"

"How could I not?" You tilt your head at him from the passenger seat, blinking slowly. "Si, did you forget about me when I'm gone? It's a little rude of you, you know?"

"I couldn't even if I was killed." He hums. "Your luggage's lighter."

"Mhm. Most of my stuff is with a friend who lives nearby." You grin. "Didn't want you to blow out your back for me."

"Couldn't do that if y' tried."

Simon wonders if there's something in the air when you come back to visit.

"You plan on stayin' there?"

"Maybe." You hum. "I quite like it."

"Leavin' me to fend on my own, huh?"

"It'd be unfair for either of us to do something all for the sake of the other. Your comfort comes before mine." You grin. "Get me a little something to eat?"

"Got dinner at 'ome." He hums. "Your favorite."

"What if it's changed?"

"You can't be sayin' that when you told me less than a month ago."

You laugh in the front seat, grinning.

"Dated yet, Si?"

"No." He hums. "This girl stops by the shop but I don' really like her like that."

"Mm." You tap your chin. "Broken no one in yet?"

Simon coughs at your choice of words, coughing as he catches his breath, your hand patting his back as you laugh.

"Bloody hell."

You have a shit-eating grin on your face when he catches a glance.

"Why? Y'been broken in yet?"

"Nope. Waiting for a certain someone to do the honors."

You laugh at the way he's red for the whole ride back.

Yet, he makes no real move on you back at his place. He hands you a glass of water and settles himself next to you on the couch, letting you show him the variety of items you've brought back to give him, grinning at him when he stares at the strange combination of things.

"Why'd you come back during such a shite time?"

"I wanted to spend the new year with you." You hum, blinking at the snow that's come with the weather.

"You didn't come back during summer."

"No." You close your eyes, throwing your head back. "I wanted to, but I decided not."

"Why."

You kick your legs over his, huffing as you grumble. "It was hard. Flying out the country's hard."

"Cuz of the thing, huh?"

"Yeah." You rest your head on his shoulder, staring out the window. "You got work these days?"

"Nah. Old guy's home with his family. Y' gonna go home?"

"No." You close your eyes. "Didn't tell mom n dad I'd be back."

"Yeah? Just me?"

"Just wanted to see you." You whisper, taking his hand and fiddling with his fingers.

"Y've gotten real handsy since ya left."

"Maybe I just missed you." You mumble. "It's lonely without you."

"Don't love y'er other friends?"

"Love you more." You whisper, finger smooth against his ring finger as you feel him tense up under you.

"Y'love me?"

"Si, I've known you since forever. Of course I do." You rest your hand on top of his, opening your eyes as you whisper.

"Oh, like that."

You don't breach the subject of love further than that, playing with Simon's fingers as he turns on the TV for a match, letting you get comfy with him under a blanket and eventually fall asleep. He stares down at you, voice tight in his throat as he rests his hand on your forearm, heart painful in his chest. Distance has given him no time to think if all he thinks of is you. But, it would be cruel to tell you of something that's long been his problem.

It is not your burden to bear.

It is not your portion to carry.

He rests his eyes as well, the two of you staying that way until late night, Simon first to rouse as he looks out the window.

It is dark outside.

You stir as he does, leaning back onto the couch to stretch out, and kick your legs out, and Simon holds your ankle to push it to the side. The snow creates the illusion of an empty street, and the black and white hurt each other in the lack of light, but you keep staring. It reminds Simon of when you were kids. The staring has since gotten better, but every now and then he catches you staring into nothing.

"Dinner?"

"Sounds good." You kick the blanket off of you, yawning as you follow him to the kitchen. "'m tired."

"Long flight."

"Mhm." You sit at the island, watching as Simon heats the food for you, staring at him as you lean on your palm. "Si, why did you never date?"

"Why should I?"

"Donno."

Simon takes out dinner from the microwave, placing it in front of you as he stares.

"Will y' ever tell me about the staring problem?"

"Probably not." You wiggle your hands comically as you grin.

"Don't do that again."

"So you hate me." You start at dinner anyway, thanking Simon as you chew on the food, scraping the plate in the end when you finish, grinning.

"How's Tommy?"

"Great. Getting engaged soon."

"Ooh! Did you help him pick a ring?"

"No. He went ring shoppin' with his girl." Simon hums.

"Wish you could show me."

"Get dinner with him sometime. I can arrange it. He comes over Friday nights."

"Can't I just grab dinner with him friday night then?"

"Next week?"

"Sure."

"I'll tell him."

"It's Christmas week." You hum. "Did you grab me anything?"

"No." He rolls his eyes. "Dinner wasn' enough?"

You pretend to think, grinning at him when he raises a brow.

"I'm kidding."

"Sure hope you are."

You wake up to a surprise on Christmas anyway, eyes glimmering when Simon serves you breakfast with a gift, kicking your legs as you gush to him about how he didn't need to. You give him a squeeze on his bicep as you ask him if you can unwrap it, pulling at the little ribbon and paper, grinning when you spot the headphones you've written to him about, bottom lip quivering as tears threaten to spill, and Simon rushes to brush them from your cheek, calling you a crybaby while he's at it.

"I should give something back to you."

"Yer back, hm? That's m' gift."

"But I like being with you too." You mumble, hand finding his as your thumb brushes his. "D'you want anything? Anything."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

Simon stares down at your lips, humming as he raises a brow.

"Truly?"

"Use my body or whatever. I trust you." Your voice quiets the more you speak. "I'm all yours."

"Tell me to stop whenever." Simon's thumb finds your bottom lip, brushing it as he presses his lips to yours — hungry, decades of holding back overflowing and spilling into you, hands gripping the counter til his knuckles turn white, tongue shoved down your throat and a hum in his as you pant once he pulls off of you, staring as your eyes haze over and your chest rises and falls, lips parted as you blink to come back to him, bottom lip glossy from his saliva as he brushes it once more. "y'still with me, angel?"

"Mhm." You hum. "You sure you didn't go around kissing others while I was gone?"

"On my life."

"Surprising." You reach up to cup his face, thumb brushing his bottom lip as you hum. "Only ever kissed me, hm? Only wanna kiss me?"

"Bloody hell, what did going to uni teach ya?"

You laugh, humming as you squeeze his face. "How to flirt, apparently. 's it working?"

"No."

The red of his ears betray him.

You're everything except the title, Simon finds. You barely bother hiding the fact that he's allowed to do whatever with you, lounging on his couch and sticking by him at every moment, barely bothering to hide your boredom with the TV and working your knuckles into his back instead. He doesn't need to look to know you've got a shit-eating grin on your face when he groans as you work out a knot in his back.

"Yer real tight, Si."

"Yer pickin' up my accent."

"Maybe it's cuz I love you." You dig your elbow into the muscle, earning a groan from his lips.

"At this point yer just messin' with me."

"Maybe." You hum, exhaling when the knot's released itself, and you collapse on his back, grumbling.

"Get off 'me."

"Don't call me heavy, big guy." You sigh, peeling yourself off of him anyway, falling back to the other arm of the couch.

"You got knots?"

"Don't think so. Sure you're not gonna get hard all pressed up on my ass, Si?"

"Said you were free use f'r the week."

"Didn't think you'd jump to fuck me like that." You settle on your stomach anyway, letting Simon run his hands along your back, oil warm on his hands as you settle with watching whatever's on the telly (it's a football game. you're not the biggest fan, but better than thinking about the fact that you're practically moaning and squirming under Simon. You can't run from the consequences of your actions forever).

Simon fights every bone in his body to not spill over and take things too far, jaw clenched as he brushes the knot from your shoulder, pushing his thumb into it as you whimper. He hears you bite your tongue, and fight back a moan, and it almost comforts him to know that you're not too far off either. Though, he doesn't mention anything when you swat at him to stop, rolling over to lay on your back, staring up at him through your lashes, humming as he stares down at you.

"Minx."

"Freak." You laugh, chest shaking as you grin, eyes crinkling as he presses his hands on your waist, thumb pressing down to your ribs, humming quietly.

"If I were a cut of meat—"

"What fuckin' nonsense are you askin' now?"

"Entertain me, won't you?"

"I wouldn't cut you up."

"You'd eat me raw?!"

"'m no cannibal, angel."

"Just say you won't fuck me."

You're pushing buttons, Simon finds. You're testing to see how much it'll take for him to crumble and snap in your hands. Your hand rubs at his bicep in the mornings when you pass him, cheek squished with his as you point while windowshopping, fingers laced with his as though you were really on a date, and Simon finds that it's hard to fight the red that ruins the pale of his skin, crackling between the cracks of his skin from the winter cold, forced to play it off as the fact that it is cold out. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze back when you ask him to enter a store, and he tugs you back when you're wandering off course.

"Did yer cough start this year?"

"Not yet." You hum. "Worried I'm gonna get you sick?"

"No. Worried you don't like the flavors where you are."

"You remember." You mumble, staring as he hands you the stick from the grocery bag.

"Hard to forget."

"Not when it's only mentioned in passing."

You take the stick anyway, unwrapping one and pressing it to your lips, sucking on it as you squeeze at his arm, puffer coat zipped all the way up as you head back to his place.

Simon doesn't snap the entire time that you're back for the week.

He knows you're trying to get him too, but he's probably held back more than you have over the years, so not much really moves him to do anything anymore. You can try all you want, but truly, you can't do all that much.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?"

Simon raises a brow from the island, blinking at you as you stare back at him.

"Not in the sex way. Just. Like when we were kids."

"You finally gonna tell me what all that staring you did as a kid meant?"

"Maybe." You place the dishes into the dishwasher, blinking slowly as you turn around to stare at Simon. "But I don't think you'd believe me."

"I'd argue against that. Can't tell me something insane."

"Oh, I'm sure." You mumble. "I'm sure you'd believe some made up war story from a world in the past."

"Is that what it was?"

"I don't know." You blink slowly, taking off the gloves and letting them dry as Simon stares. stares. stares.

Past your eyes and through your soul, like you're just a piece on display. Like he knows something you don't. He doesn't. Simon knows better than anyone that despite every single cell of his body crying for him to pour himself to devote to you, you would never accept it. You wouldn't. You wouldn't let him "throw his future away" all for the sake of you. Something stops you from letting him devote himself to him, and something stops you from just accepting that maybe Simon wants it and it isn't a side effect of being friends for so long.

There's a constant need to take care of him better than he takes care of you.

Simon finds it in the way you hand him a mug of water before bed, throwing the blanket over the two of you, flashlight resting between the two of you as you blink at him.

"You gon' tell me?"

"No." You hum. "But I'll tell you another secret if you tell me one. You first, though."

Simon doesn't keep secrets from you other than the fact that he loves you.

"I don' have any."

"None at all?"

"I tell you everything."

You blink at him from under the covers, tilting your head.

"Everything?"

Almost.

"Thinkin' 'bout signing up SAS." He whispers, voice cracking as he watches the grief crack past your eyes and your face drop. You don't mention anything, telling him it's fine as you collect yourself, swallowing everything back and smiling again.

"Yeah?"

"Thinkin' bout it."

"You gonna go? Really?" You whisper — scared. Simon knows you enough to be able to sense when you're scared. It's rare you even display such an honest emotion to him.

"Why don't you want me to?"

"No, it's just." You shake your head. "'m being paranoid. I'm just upset that I might not get to see you again."

"I'll see you between missions."

"I'm out of the country, Si." You mumble. "I can't visit all the time."

"I know." He mumbles. "but I've got to do sumthin 'n if not this, then I don' know what."

You rest your head against his chest, voice quiet as he runs his hand through your hair, pressing down to get you to relax for him.

"'m thinking about settling down permanently there."

Ah.

Simon seems to understand why you'd be so panicked at his enlistment. Truly, he wouldn't get to see you again, maybe. He'd be busy and if you start work, then you wouldn't get to see him at all. You can't write back to him if he's moving around, and his phone would most likely be off-limits in the service. Too little to do. Too little to hold on to. Maybe that is what you have feared.

"I'll tell you one more secret, then, Si." You mumble, hands finding his chest as you close your eyes.

"'s it, angel?"

"Tommy's gonna get married to her and then they're gonna have a boy." You close your eyes, and Simon feels you furrow your brows against his chest. "He's gonna be named Joseph. Joseph Riley. Sweet boy. Lovely, even."

"Why are you telling me this."

"Just." You whisper. "Just remember that."

You don't respond, going quiet for the rest of the trip, only giving him a hug at the airport and waving goodbye. You leave him your new address, smiling at him.

Simon doesn't know if he likes the silence he's left with when you're gone from his flat.

Yet, he's gone anyway, sending you letters that you can never quite send back, always too close or too far. He mails small things that remind him of you — tucks a photo of you into his helmet, stares up at the stars when it's night with a smoke between his fingers (that you'd scold him for) while the rest of the team joins him. He climbs up ranks — never stops writing to you. During the few times he has off, he returns to the empty flat and wonders how you're doing. You don't write back to him.

He wonders if you get his letters at all.

Yet, he can't stop to think. He can't stop. He just.

He becomes a Lieutenant.

When he's asked if he'd like someone to be at the ceremony, he briefly wonders if you'd fly over for him.

He doesn't ask you.

His feelings aren't yours to deal with.

Tommy and his mother help him pin it, but he'd wish that the hands promoting him to a higher position was you. It's to prove to you. It's to prove to you that he's fine and alive. Maybe it holds the same sentiment as when he writes to you. He's still alive, angel. He's still in one piece, even if you can't write back to him. He wonders if you still live there. Are his letters meeting a stone wall? Is it a brick wall that stands between the two of you? He'd break it down, but he doesn't want to risk the chances of you getting hurt in the crumble.

He returns home for Christmas one year, wondering if you'd be home. Tommy mentions sending you a wedding invite through Simon, and he stares. Really. Just stares at the wedding invitation. He doubts you'd answer. You feel like a ghost of his past. It's almost as if you had known that he'd never see you again when you had spent a winter with him. Like you knew. Like you wish he knew. Like when you pulled him under the blankets with a flashlight, you had known, maybe, that he'd be gone and you'd be gone.

When he sends the letter to the address you gave him, he almost worries that Tommy won't get a response back. (He slips an additional letter asking you if you'd like to be his plus one, but he doesn't have much faith that you'll respond to that one.)

Then, he's off and back to the military.

You meet him at Tommy's wedding.

You find him in the crowd, eyes lighting up as you sit next to him in the crowd, chattering excitedly about how you finally get to see him again. He listens to you talk. You've changed — as one does, and he has as well. Yet, he doesn't mind the change this time. You seem the same as before, sparkling eyes, only a little more mature. You look less like a kid and more like an adult now. You look pretty as you ever are.

"Missed you so much." You mumble. "So so much. Love reading your letters. Please never stop writing to me."

"You read em but won't send responses to my flat?"

"You didn't sell it?"

Simon shakes his head.

"Then I will. I'll write back to your flat." You mumble. "I just worry that your mailbox will overflow."

"Tommy takes care of it."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

"Alright." You grin. "You got a phone when you're off duty?"

He shakes his head.

"We'll stick to letters, then."

You sit with Simon at dinner. The wedding is nice. You're nice. Simon missed you, and he almost wants to ask if you've got a booking for somewhere because apparently you had tugged along with you a luggage when you first arrived and left it at the front for safekeeping. Maybe you'll ask him. It wouldn't be strange if you did. He has a day off, but you're more than welcome to stay as long as you want in his flat. He'll get you a copy of his key, even.

Maybe you'll give him a copy of yours next. He'd like to visit sometime.

"Si." You whisper, nudging him gently with the tip of your heel.

"Hm?"

"You got space in your flat?"

"I'll give y' a copy of the key. I gotta get back in the mornin'"

"You only took a day off?"

"'s just a weddin', no?"

"It's Tommy's wedding."

"Still a weddin', angel."

"Oh, should I be worried that you'll only take a day off for our wedding?" You squeeze his arm as you wave at Tommy and his bride.

Simon blinks at you.

"Y' did not just say that."

"Hm?" You tilt your head at him. "D'ya stop lovin' me over our break?"

"Who said I ever loved y'a?"

"The voices." You let go of his arm, going back to the food.

Simon takes you home after you get plastered at Tommy's wedding. He's never seen you drink so much, but to be fair, you didn't drink all that much last time you were at his flat. You seem like nothing to him as he carries you, letting you hang off of his shoulder as he brings you up the stairs, raising a brow at you when you beeline for his bathroom and throw up over the toilet.

"Regret drinkin' yet?"

"No." You rasp. "Fuck, no. Can't get alcohol this good where I'm stuck."

"Thought you loved it there."

"I only love being next to you." You start again, Simon sitting by your side as he holds your hair up. "Fuckin' hell."

"Yer slurrin' your speech, angel."

"Speakin' like you." You huff, crying. "I missed you, Si. Really did."

"Missed y' too."

You rest your palm against your forehead, eyes closed as you whimper. "'s lonely without you."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm." You mumble. "Thought I could take it again."

"Again?"

"Again." You whisper. "And again. Si, I'm not made for casual I'm made for soul crushing devotion. God, I need to move on already. Why's it so hard to move on?"

"F'rm who?"

You turn to him, eyes glossy and red as you let out a laugh— pathetic. Almost as though you were laughing at yourself.

"'m not gonna come clean about that, Si."

"Never?"

"Maybe when you get married." You bend over the toilet again, closing your eyes.

"Though' it was we?"

You laugh. "If you survive."

"You always know somethin', angel."

"Hard not to." You throw your head back, furrowing your brows as you focus on breathing. "I'd like for it to stop, though."

"And how would that happen?"

"Can't. Cursed with the knowledge. Wish you could just fuck it out of me, honest."

You wake up to the worst hangover of your life — head cracking open down the middle as you sit up and rub at your neck, groaning as you stretch your back. Getting plastered at Tommy's wedding was probably not worth it.

"Hey." Simon hands you a bowl of soup, and you whimper as you press it to your lips, drinking.

"Thought you had to go."

"You looked like shite when y' went to bed."

You huff. "So you stayed back?"

"If not me then who?"

"I could've handled it."

"Wouldn' have wanted y'to." He hums. "Wiped your face down last night."

"Thank you, Si." You mumble. "You angel."

"All you."

"No. Not this time." You close your eyes. "Did I tell you anything?"

"Said you thought y'could take being alone again."

He leaves out the part where you had cried about him fucking you.

"Oh." You mumble. "'m just lonely."

Without him.

"Would you let me visit?"

"Shall I give you a spare as well?" You tilt your head. "Or do you want to do it classic style and break into my place?"

"A spare would be nice."

"Okie dokes." You hum. "You can go back in the afternoon. I feel much better."

"Won't let me stay longer?"

"I'd assume you can only stay for so long."

"Can ask for longer. The captain'll get it."

"You don't need to, Si."

"Thought y'missed me?"

"I do."

"Then let me stay. Allow yourself tha' much."

"Yeah?"

He nods.

You let him.

He sticks behind and wanders around with you, following after you with your bags as you point and shop, squeezing Simon gently, stopping halfway to feed him, your fingers nimble on your new device as you click.

"A cell phone?"

"Mhm." You rummage through your bag, frowning when there's a lack of something. "Forgot it."

"Forgot what?"

"I'll give it to you later."

You end up leaving it on Simon's bedside — something he returns to after deployment, brow raised as he reads through the album and the songs you've burned down for him. The letter you tuck behind the tracklist doesn't go unnoticed, Simon's first letter greeting him in the house from you as he looks through the rest of his mail. You've started writing back. Blue and black envelopes stick out from the whites of formal mail, and he flips through them, your writing familiar to his eyes as he sits back with a cup of water, reading through your responses to what he writes to you.

He feels childish writing to you sometimes. The pen feels a little too light for a hand that only knows the sword and not pen. Well, sword is wrong. Gun. His hands are much more used to the weight of a weapon than a quill.

It helps ground him sometimes.

His letters are most certainly darker than yours. You report about what you've been working on in school, sending him tickets to your graduation later in the year. You tell him that it doesn't really matter if he doesn't attend, but you wanted to give it to him anyway. The extra ticket is in case he actually found someone in the military to bring as a plus one.

It wounds Simon that you'd think he wouldn't stick with you.

He writes back to you, marking down your graduation and taking the day off in advance with his captain, nodding when asked if it's the same person he took the week off for last time.

"Must really love 'er, huh?"

"Yes, sir."

"Got a ring on it?"

"No, sir."

"Better move quick, Simon. Yer at the age where dating's all the storm."

Simon wonders if you'd agree to do long distance if he can't call you all that much.

You deserve someone who'll at least be there for you when you need it.

Yet, he lingers a little too long in front of the jewelry store, battered and bruised face in the reflection of the glass, staring himself in the eye as he wonders just why you had called him pretty back then. He's hardly pretty now. Mangled upper lip and scratches on his cheek — there is no trace of the "pretty" you had once called him. Though, his lashes stay the same, so he wonders if you'll still recognize if the only thing visible are his eyes.

He stares for a second too long at the jewelry store, stepping in and looking for something you'd like.

A ring.

"A nice dramatic gem for the engagement ring" you had told him once. Yet, despite it all, the sketches you had drawn for him had been a moderate gem. A ring that would remind you of how much he loves you — it had been a simple request. Even without the title of it all. You did not need to know what you were and what you weren't. If you had the certainty that one day the two of you would end up together anyway, then why waste the effort and consider or think over other people?

Simon understands you a little more now.

"Custom. If y'do 'em."

He pulls out the sketches you made as a child. Messy and childish ones — ones where it's a moonstone or pearly, never a diamond, and ones where Simon's handwriting as a child are visible to leave ideas for his own. You did not know. He did not either. But there's something quite assuring in just knowing. Simon knows you love him. It's quite a simple thing, really. You love him in the letters you write back, painful detail down to the point and making sure not to miss a thing. You love him in the trips where you're back, refusing to book a hotel and squeezing into his flat with him, limbs tangled in an intimacy that you've both grown comfortable in.

Simon loves you too. He loves you in the simplicity of having grown up with you — in the hair held up as you throw up, and in staying back when you won't let him but you need him. He loves you quietly the same way you love him. It's quite simple, really. It doesn't matter if you won't marry him or that you deserve someone better than Simon. All that really matters is that you want him, and he wants you too. There isn't too much other thinking he should do. You've always been more simple like that.

He writes you a letter back, asking if you want any particular flowers (not that he'll get the chance to read what you want).

He'll know what to get you when the time comes.

There's a sense of stability that Simon's learned to realize now that he's older or whatever. Settling down with you and retiring from the military won't kill him. He'll just open a nice little shop by where you live if he has to. You won't let him, but you trust him enough to let him make his own decisions now. It doesn't matter what you refuse to tell him. Time will tell him, and then eventually, you'll be honest. He just has to have faith or whatnot.

He brings the ring to your graduation, sitting in the back with your family, catching up with them. He wears a mask to hide the scars on his face and whatnot, but nothing outside of it. There's a sense of age that's crept up with him, and something weighs on his shoulders, but you'll work it out of him like you always have. Seeing you in your robes and throwing your hat is more than enough to let him forget for a moment.

There's a long life of him ahead on the battlefield if he decides upon it. He'd like something to go home to or meet up with halfway.

Preferably you.

He tucks the bouquet under his arm with the box in his pocket, meeting you halfway as you spot him in the crowd of people immediately, his name yelled and your friends abandoned for him, launching yourself into his arms as he catches you with an arm, humming as you squeeze his biceps, eyes lit up as you ramble to him. He watches you, eyes gentle and warm as his mind reminds him that yes, this is what bliss is to him. Simple, easy, bliss.

"Got you flowers."

"Yeah?" You tilt your head, grinning as he presents them to you. "Can we get dinner at mine later? I'd go to the grad party but I missed you a whole lot and you probably have a hotel so—"

"You'll host me?"

"I live alone."

"Tha's unsafe, angel."

"So?"

"You wan' me to pick?"

"Nah. Takeout at my place, but I'll get to say I have dinner plans."

"And your parents?"

"They'll understand." You glance at the flowers. "You tryna tell me something with the single rose amongst all those yellows? Ooh, white carnations..."

"Maybe I am."

"You've gotten bold, Si." You laugh, squeezing his forearm as your parents spot you. "I'll send you my address. Love you lots, kay? See you in a bit."

Simon bends down to press his lips to your forehead, humming as he sends you off with a pat.

You seem to know too.

He enters with the spare key you keep buried in the depths of the crevice of a window, setting his luggage down as he reads your texts about where to stay and put his stuff. You live comfortably. He understands why you wouldn't want to move. His flat is significantly less impressive than this, yet you stayed with him every time. Considering it all, you probably could've just bought out a flat next to him if you really wanted to.

Maybe there is love in the way you simply choose to exist the way you do.

You return home a little later, makeup smudged and messy as you tell him you ended up in the backseat with some friends, but you managed to get home in one piece. You abandon the robe and hat, shaking out the bobby pins as you recite the local pizza place to Simon, pulling out a drawer with your makeup remover as you do.

It feels oddly domestic.

"Wh'd'ya want?"

"Just tell em my name. They know my order. Oh, tell 'em to make it a combo this time. You can ask them what options they have. I like the wings, but their salad isn't bad."

"This what you've been livin' off of in uni?"

"Maybe." You pause to yawn, shaking the bottle and pulling out cotton pads to get everything off. "They're good though, I promise."

"Trust you." He dials.

You're not wrong.

Simon sits with you on your couch as you tangle limbs with him, pulling the pizza out and letting the cheese stretch as you do, your TV turned on as you let him watch the game.

"Si, what do you think about me moving back?"

"Why? Y'live comfortable here."

"It's lonely without you."

"Yeah?" He reaches down to rub circles on your knee with his free hand. "Y'er so much better off here, though."

"We can just get a new place in Manchester." You lick your fingers, reaching for another slice. "I'll buy it. It can be a dowry or whatever."

"I couldn't let y' do that, angel."

"Why not?" You raise a brow. "I'm willing to."

"Then let me take care of utilities."

"If y'want."

Simon slides his hand up your leg, squeezing your thigh gently as you turn to look at him, pizza crumbs on the corner of your lips as he fishes something out from his pocket.

"If yer willin'—"

"Oh, hell, yes. Please." You grin.

"At least le' me finish."

"Sorry, Si." You hum. "Shall we reroll and rerecord?"

"'s fine." He hums, opening the box as he squeezes your thigh, humming quietly as he presents the ring to you.

"I can't promise bein' in bed with you every night, but I can promise an eternity of the time I have that is my own with you." He hums. "I'll come back to you in one form or another. I'll leave if y'want it. Anything you ask for, I will give. Marry me, angel?"

"Will I be upgraded to luvie if I do?"

"Anythin' y' want. Missus Riley, even."

"It's a yes, Si. Always a yes. Thought it was obvious when I said our wedding at Tommy's." You hum. "Let me wash my hands, though. Got crumbs and oil all over 'em."

"I'll wipe the ring down later. Gimme y'er hand."

You lick your ring finger, giving Simon your hand as he presses a kiss to the finger, delicate, gentle, soft before sliding the ring on.

"Looks real familiar." You observe the design, pausing when it hits you. "Did you keep the drawing I made back in Year 7??"

"Surprised y'noticed."

Your bottom lip quivers, tears welling in your eyes as Simon reaches to hold your head to his chest, humming as you wipe at the tears, chest shaking from laughter.

"Yer so stupid." You laugh, folding the last of your pizza and finishing it in a bite. "y'er such a bloke."

Simon pokes at your cheek, your hand flying up to swat at his as he hums.

"Yer bloke."

"Guh."

Two months later, Simon returns to help you move.

You sell the majority of your furniture and tell him you've got your eye on a nice little place a little more outskirt, but he tells you to pick where you'll be comfortable. He truly only needs to come home to you and it'll be enough. You kick at him and tell him at least to tell you whether it should be a flat or a townhouse or whatever. He settles with you as the two of you look into an agent, and eventually you find a place you both like to some extent.

You move back home to Simon, and you blink as you settle into the new place, keys in your hand as you squeeze Simon. You're back on the couch, legs kicked over his as your thumbs brush at his cheeks, staring.

“Heard Tommy’s baby is coming soon”

“Mhm.”

“Did they pick a name?”

Simon raises a brow at you when you tilt your head and blink.

“Joseph, luvie. Joseph.”

You laugh, cheeks warm as Simon hums.

"Yer still pretty as ever, Si."

"Even with the mangled lip?"

"Adds flavor." You grin. "Funny that we haven't gone on a proper date yet."

"Y'wanna go on a date? Bring your documents. We're off to get the civil ceremony."

"Wow, really can't wait f'r me to become Missus Riley, huh?"

"Waited long enough. 'm sure you've waited longer." He mumbles. "A whole life, even."

"Whole two." You hold up your fingers. "I'll tell you all about it after you finally break me in."

"Bloody hell."

You laugh, cheeks warm and eyes closed as Simon stares.

This, he understood.

You, he understands.

In this life, and whatever other he had.

You, he knows.

"Thinking?" You quirk your head to the side

"Thinkin' bout you, luvie."

"Yeah? You'll be doing that a lot more now, Si."

"Always have been."

[mattslolita]

bambis friends finally letting Chris see Bambi but there watching u 2 like a hawk and say “u got five minutes” 😭😭

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧

chris was unavoidable — he called and texted you every day, almost filling up your voicemail box. you couldn't go to certain places without knowing for sure that he'd be there, and you weren't ready to see him. he hurt you really bad, and he needed to realize it. you'd always spoken so highly about the way he treated you, but you should've known you would never be anything more with him.

it's been two weeks — you would be lying if you said you weren't completely losing your mind having not seen chris. you were a wreck, not your usual bubbly, emotional self. of course, the crying had doubled and stayed consistent — you felt bad for your friends taking care of you in this time, but they didn't mind and insisted on helping you out.

"you won't believe who the fuck just asked to see y/n," niyah fumes, walking into your bedroom as she shook her head whilst staring down at her phone, "chris gon text me and ask to see you!"

you sniffled as you were cuddled into riri's side, scream playing on the laptop in front of you. if chris were here, he would've looked at you crazy since he knew that horror movies were your way of trying to cheer yourself up. the thought of chris made your chest tighten, as you realized — you really missed him.

"let him," you say in between sniffles, causing everyone's eyes to widen as they stare down at you.

"y/n, are you serious?" zay asks you seriously, her eyebrows knitted together, "are you sure it's a good idea?"

"maybe he has an explanation," you said, wiping at your eyes as you hiccup, "i deserve to hear it. it's not fair."

your friends all share a knowing look with each other, before niyah sighs and types away on her phone. "here's some tissues pookie, he's coming in six minutes."

—

the familiarity of your house brings chris a desperate comfort he'd been missing for the past two weeks — his hair was tousled messily, eye bags prominent under his eyes from lack of sleep. he'd been in a terrible state without you, and it was definitely showing. when he walks inside of your home, your friends are quick to stare the man down. his cheeks heat up with shame, fully expecting one of the girls to lunge at him.

"five fucking minutes," niyah hisses, her eyes boring into chris's with anger, nodding towards your room.

he gulps before walking past the group of girls who stare at him as he makes his way into your room. the door creaks open, and your head pops up from your bed quickly as your eyes land on chris — he looks tired and numb, and something inside of you breaks as you sniffle and sit up.

"hey, bambi," chris says hoarsely, voice barely above a whisper as he closes the door behind him.

"hi, chris," you say quietly, playing with the hem of your shorts as you stare up at him curiously.

he motions towards the end of your bed, and you nod as he sits down and lets a sigh escape his lips — you watch him fold his hands in lap, struggling to maintain the eye contact you insist on trying to keep with him. "dunno if you're gonna forgive me, but i jus' wan' tell you what happened."

you're silent, still eyeing him curiously — he takes this as an initiative to continue. "for some time now, you an' me have been together, but not together, if that makes sense. i will admit i was scared that i would fuck shit up, thas' why i haven't made any moves to make shit official with you. but i was finally ready to do things the right way."

you could feel your heart skip a beat at his words — chris wanted to make things official with you. it was all you'd ever wanted, but now you're conflicted, because you don't know if you could trust him. "that doesn't explain madilyn...why were you with her?"

the crack in your voice causes chris to run a hand along his jaw as he shakes his head. "i went to her for advice on how to ask you. i didn't realize she had a different motive, i swear."

suddenly anger beings to course through your veins upon the realization that madilyn had been after chris just to spite you — for whatever stupid reason, she had always been jealous of you, and you didn't know why. you should've known better that chris would go for someone else — still, you weary on anything to go further for you guys.

you slowly crawled over to chris, running your hands along his shoulders to his chest, as your lips hovered over his neck. you pressed a soft kiss there, inhaling his familiar cologne, "i really missed you, baby."

"i missed you too, ma," chris mumbles, his strong hands moving to place on you on his lap, causing a small giggle to escape your lips. he wipes away at a stray tear that leaves your eye, "can i make it up to you?"