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rouiyan · 4 years ago

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𝘐𝘛'𝘚 (𝘜𝘕)𝘊𝘖𝘕𝘋𝘐𝘛𝘐𝘖𝘕𝘈𝘓. [ 𝘭.𝘥𝘩 ]

⧏ hyuck’s installment of the undone at twenty-one collective ⧐

synopsis: where you and donghyuck realize that falling in love is not just a matter of time but of circumstances, impulsive decisions, and reckless emotions. well, mostly just reckless emotions. or in short, the two times you dumped him and the one time you didn't.

✧ lee donghyuck x (fem.) reader + bestfriend!lee jeno ✧ college au, slight enemies to loverz, fake dating au

✧ genres : angst, fluff, pining ✧ word count : 18.3k ✧ disclaimers : swearing

✧ author’s note — months in the making and it's finally here. please make yourself a cup of tea and get toasty in the sheets because this bitch is huge.

it was a valentine's dance, a stupid valentine's day dance, where lovers would go if they truly had nothing else to do. it was where elderly couples would boast of how long they'd been together, clichéd stories and all. you'd only gone because your best friend, jeno, had been in charge of the whole event to begin with. it made no sense to you, jeno was always a sucker for parties but not the sappy, cookies and streamers, no-alcoholic-beverages ones. he had said it was because he needed community service hours, something about how it would look like he genuinely cared for the community on paper, but sometime during the night while watching him excitedly put up the red and pink balloons, you realized that he actually enjoyed this. he enjoyed watching over the dance once it was in full swing and you saw how he'd let the smallest of smiles adorn his face as he refilled an empty pitcher of fruit punch.

but you knew the exact reason he held the dance in such high regards when he slipped from your presence as some slow song started to hum from the speakers and the fluorescent pink lights dimmed. you’ve been friends with jeno’s girlfriend for long enough to know that she was such a sweetheart. jaein was the type of girl that sent her grade reports back home to her parents and always had her location on. she was the type of girl that slept at eleven and declined frat party invites. she was just the girl that'd come to these types of parties and just the girl jeno deserved and loved. to nobody’s shock including your own, the two had started dating a few months back after being so obviously head over heels in love with each other for years.

while jeno had spent most of his time with you, he now spent an equal half with jaein and you weren’t all too sure what to do with the allotted free time. sure, busying yourself with studies was a good idea, not a very fun one though, so you resorted to attending the valentine’s dance jeno had set up, to support him as well as not to miss out on free food. jeno had tried, really, to get any one of his single (as in, ready to mingle) friends to come and try to woo you, but none had shown up, opting to go to more bustling parties than to babysit his lone best friend. none had shown up, except a specific brown-haired boy, with a shy smile and a lame excuse as to why he would choose to spend such a day here, of all places.

donghyuck. lee donghyuck. your polar opposite. to be fair though, you wouldn’t actually know all too well because you’d never particularly ventured to get to know him. every bit about him struck you as obnoxious and entirely unnecessary. he was this loud, boisterous enigma at your college, always sunshine and smiles and making people laugh at jokes that bordered between funny and offensive. you felt, no, you knew that he was no good. he was never committed in serious relationships, gaining labels such as being a ‘playboy,' and you doubted he ever had a serious conversation with anyone, much less himself. lee donghyuck was the moodmaker of your friend group and while that may rest peachy with others, you found it exhausting to have to always be in the mood to laugh at his jokes or else be deemed undeserving of his attention. truth be told, you thought he felt the exact same way towards you, seeing as how he never attempted to make conversation with you and how he simply acted like you didn't exist when in big groups. how wrong you were.

lee donghyuck was the last person on your mind when jeno had said to you absentmindedly that one of his friends could accompany you that night. jeno was clearly proud of this, with the knowledge of donghyuck's blatant crush on you, the matter being a secret to no one but yourself. donghyuck had really debated coming, not wanting to enforce one-on-one confrontations with you since he knew you disliked him a certain amount. but he also thought of all the things he could say to you, all the questions he'd been dying to ask since day one (all the questions that jeno hadn't begrudgingly answered already). for him, the whole day had been spent staring at jeno's simple text (hey, u should come keep y/n company at the dance) and tossing himself through his sheets, wondering if he should dare be bold and actually show up.

turns out, even after deciding to go, showing up had been an astonishing feat in itself for donghyuck, having spent the last hour and a half brushing and re-brushing his teeth, styling and restyling his hair, and choosing and rechoosing his outfit. he'd settled for simple black jeans, torn at the knees, a white tee topped with a black denim jacket and white sneakers, his hair split in the middle and almost stabbing at his eyes. he felt his heart speed up while reversing out of the driveway of his house, he felt his heart speed up as he thought of you while driving, and he felt his heart almost stop when he entered the venue, his eyes narrowing in on you and almost doubling over at how gorgeous you looked. leaning on the drinks table, you were donned in a simple satin blue slipdress with chunky sneakers to dress it down, one side of your hair was clipped back with some pearly accessories and your equally pearly bag sat atop the table behind you.

he took careful, calculated steps, stopping at the candy table to grab a lollipop, so as to seem like he wasn't beelining right towards you. stopping a few feet away from you and gaining your attention, he held out the heart-shaped lollipop, a shy "hi," slipping from his lips. you took the candy with a small thanks before fixating your gaze back on him and questioning his presence, "what brings you here?" though you knew the answer, you really doubted that jeno could convince donghyuck here without any willpower of his own. he bit down on his lower lip before giving out a shrug and untruthfully admitting that he, "had nothing else to do," and, "thought it would be a nice change, considering i really only attend frat parties."

taking the excuse as his word, you nodded slowly before telling him you didn't know if this was a good idea and that maybe you should just go because you didn't see much of a point in staying, completely missing the way his eyes rounded ever so slightly and how his lips twitched into a frown before he quickly fixed his expression. you were just about to turn away from him when his hands found themselves barely grazing your forearm, stopping you in your tracks so that he could voice out his inner worries, "i'm sorry if i'm making you uncomfortable but…i really would like to spend the night with you."

in his mind, he felt as if time slowed as he watched your hair rustle as you turned back around to face him, as your eyes flashed for a brief moment of consideration, and as you brought your hand up to his, effectively removing it from your arm before looking him straight in the eye to say, "okay."

donghyuck went through all the possible scenarios he'd thought up to come to a conclusion on what to say. he noted the way most people at the event were on the dance floor, slow dancing with a loved one, and thought it was a good place to start. meanwhile, you had traced his line of vision and interpreted his ideas, quickly saying, "no, we're not dancing," and effectively trashing his one and only plan rather abruptly. donghyuck's eyes nearly bulged out of his head and he made a mental note to not be so damn obvious in front of you. he took a quick glance at your lips and decisively tossed out the first thing that came to mind, "then, have you eaten yet?"

you shook your head lightly and he took from this to offer, "then how 'bout we go grab something to eat? my treat." you barely considered the situation upon hearing the last two syllables, replying with a "sounds good," quickly grabbing your bag. exiting the venue, you looked for jeno and saw that he was still busying around his girlfriend. you took it upon yourself to text him whilst on the way to dinner.

donghyuck felt light on his feet as he walked through the parking lot with you by his side. the cold air felt liberating on his skin but he noticed how you'd caged yourself within your arms, in attempts to ward off the wind. without thinking, he'd already shrugged off his jacket and propped it lightly over your shoulders. his confidence skyrocketed as you clutched the article of clothing tighter to your frame and muttered a small thanks. surprising even himself, he even replied with a, "no problem, you look good in it," his cheeks now flushing a bright red, the same color spreading to his ears.

not much else was said as he opened up the car door for you, gently pushing it shut after you were seated. you mentally cursed yourself for being so easily persuaded but moreover, the thoughts that filled your head were akin with 'since when was he such a gentleman?' and 'what's with him all of a sudden?' the air in the car smelled like fast food takeout and the cupholders held everything but a cup, miscellaneous items ranging from candy wrappers to spare change occupying the space instead. donghyuck entered beside you and noted your gazes, feeling slightly embarrassed. he put the car in reverse and placed an arm behind the head of your seat, his own head tilting as he backed out of the spot. without meaning to, you glanced over, only to be met with his side profile, jawline and all. it was no question that he was handsome, and though you never thought you would be actively thinking about it, you found yourself at the foot of his beauty, with many other girls by your side.

the whole ride there, you were texting jeno (even though he wasn’t texting back), making small jokes about how you've been kidnapped by the man he hired to accompany you and how he didn't even bother to tell you where the two of you were headed. it's odd because to this day, you still don't know what it was that compelled you to come along with him. perhaps it was really just the food, or maybe his sudden boyish charm, or mayhaps it was even the lollipop he held out to you, a shy smile lighting his face.

fifteen minutes later, the eerily quiet drive came to an end when he pulled into a spot on the side of an empty road, expertly parallel parking in the small space between two moderately sized trucks. before you could process his movements, his hand was on your arm again and he let out a small, "wait here," before he slid out the car and briskly walked to your side, opening up the door for you once again. stepping out, you took a look at the building before you that hosted a fancy restaurant, seemingly halfway empty. you found that odd, especially since it was valentine’s day, but you put into consideration that it was located on the side of town that no one really frequents.

“wow, when you said we were going to grab something to eat, i didn’t think it’d be fancy.” donghyuck felt a sense of pride in his chest as he opened yet another set of doors for you, replying back with sincerity. “i didn’t want to half-ass this… sorta date.” it felt weird coming out of his mouth, the word ‘date,’ even more so that the date was with you, but he caught the little quirk of your lips and he wondered if he really had to joke around all that much to get you to smile. on any other day where you’d hang out with the rest of the group, he’d never been able to get your still face to lift, no matter how many idiotic jokes he had to crack.

meandering in, the waiter sat the two of you at the table against the front window and you felt subconscious of the people walking by, peering in at the pair of you like they were window shopping. donghyuck saw the way you shifted, eyes glancing out the window every few seconds and he raised his hand to catch the waiter’s attention. “can we get another table, please?” after moving to a more secluded spot, you eyed donghyuck suspiciously before he bluntly said, “what? i didn’t wanna sit by the window.” the lie slipped easily past his lips and the almost overt hope that lined your irises diminished to a pointed look and eye roll.

the restaurant was dimly lit, with the only source of light being the candles lining the wall and atop each table, accompanied by a small rose in a clear vase. you’ve never been on a date somewhere this fancy, the boys you’ve dated in the past being utterly incompetent, for lack of a better word. and it’s not like a fancy dinner was what you’d epitomize as a ‘good’ date, you’ve just never been pampered in a way that made it seem like you were of importance. somehow though, the way donghyuck laid his eyes on you, with care and genuine curiosity, you couldn’t help but feel… important to him, for whatever reason he hadn’t graced you with yet.

you didn’t question him as he ordered a pasta and a steak, getting the feeling that this wasn’t the first time he’s been here. “so this is where you take all the girls, i’m assuming?” donghyuck’s eyebrows shot into this hairline, clearly not expecting such a question from you. he cleared his throat before voicing, “only the ones i like a lil' more.” you scrunched your nose in distaste at his dating habits but you didn’t say anything else. he seemed to catch up on this as he fervently picked up the exchange once again, “not that you’re one of them.” this caught you off guard, pursing your lips slightly before disregarding the thought from your mind. donghyuck thought he’d said too much but it looked as if you were already past the topic, moving your hands to unfurl the provided cloth and laying it upon your lap. he did the same as he searched your expression in attempts to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable within his presence.

donghyuck didn’t think much of the girls he dated. they were fleeting, he knew that much. and he also knew that they simply paled in comparison to you, mere pastimes while he waited out for his chance with his actual love interest. he’d never thought that you’d express dislike towards the way he chose to date around instead of committing but now that his mind was on the matter, he felt ashamed that he didn’t even seem remotely your type. donghyuck saw this in the way you always stuck to jeno, even in a platonic sense, and how your eyes always seemed to gravitate to guys that were more or less just…better than him. he knew relatively little about your love life, though he knew for a fact that you were currently single, and (from jeno) that you had dumped all the guys you’d dated before. even just liking you, he felt immense pressure and the impotent need to impress you whenever and wherever. with that in mind, he took a second to breathe before trying, at the very least, to show you his potential.

donghyuck initiated casual conversation while the two of you waited on the food to arrive, doing his best not to seem overly enthusiastic or like he was trying to make you laugh. he kept the usual over-the-top jokes out of the air and focused solely on getting closer to you, asking questions like, “how are your classes?” or “when’s your birthday?” and giving minimum effort to reply when you’d ask the same question back. he spent most of his brain power memorizing your answers, subconsciously scheming when he could put the information to use, before popping the question he’d been wanting to ask all night, “then, what’s your type?”

“mm, like looks-wise or personality-wise?”

“hmm, how ‘bout...both?”

“then, looks-wise, well first off someone that dresses well. i think things like facial features and body build don’t matter all that much but the way someone dresses or like, presents themselves, shows a lot about them.”

“so like, any particular style?”

“nothing particular, but nothing over the top. i think they just have to look put together and just…feel confident in what they wear. if that makes sense.”

donghyuck’s pleased with your answer, and by the way he was nodding at you, you continued your thoughts.

“personality-wise, just someone who knows what they want and someone that’s willing to put in effort to get what they want, i think that’s important.”

his eyes were just about sparkling when you finished and you wanted to ask him if he felt okay but instead shot back the same question he had asked you, not wanting to come off as fussy. “what about you? what’s your type?”

donghyuck didn’t miss a beat when he blurted out, “you.”

the waiter interrupted the moment by placing two plates (or rather platters) of food onto the table, but donghyuck could see, between the waiter’s arms, the way you bit back a smile. you snuck a glance at him, unsure of how to feel at this revelation. his eyes were unwavering on yours and you’d never felt more enticed by just the way someone was looking at you. oh, how confused you had become in such a short period of time. the boy in front of you was your type, a shy but self-assured boy that was smooth, no doubt, but more importantly he made you feel something.

dinner went as fast as it came and donghyuck paid, true to his word, leading you out the restaurant and back to his car. once in, he didn’t take off immediately. sitting in silence, the two of you exchanged a couple of looks before he said with a smirk, “let’s date.”

you were barely caught off guard, nodding minutely, and looking him in the eye. “yeah, let’s date." it was a blessed day for donghyuck, one that would always replay in his mind from that day onward. he thanked whatever higher entity graced him with just the perfect words, just the perfect actions, and just the perfect scenarios to get you from hating him to looking at him with such adoration in your eyes. all in one night.

it was a miracle day, a shared thought by the two of you.

it had been a wild forty-six hours since donghyuck had dropped you off at your apartment. the sunlit sky was just about to tip into the depths of night and donghyuck had come to pick you up to hang out with the rest of your friends. the only one of the boys who knew of the progression with donghyuck at the moment was jeno, the one boy you could never keep anything from, and he still thought that you were simply playing out a giant prank on him. you felt giddy, with the rush of newfound feelings for a handsome boy you could call your own.

approaching his and his friend’s house, an unsettling feeling began to gather in the pit of donghyuck’s stomach. around you, he found it rather comfortable to just lay back and speak his thoughts. the last couple days spent with you had shown him that you liked donghyuck the way he was, and even though his fun side was appreciated, it wasn’t needed. but coming up to the front door and bringing out his keys, he thought of how he would act with the boys and you in the same room.

“wow, who would’ve thought these two would come together?” it was jaemin that spoke, his eyes narrowing at you, coming in tow behind donghyuck. “imagine how awkward the drive must’ve been. y/n hates his guts.” this time, it was renjun that spoke, his lips curling into a smile as he conjured the thought of a silent, glare-filled drive. “actually,” donghyuck began countering, “we’re dating now.”

the room fell silent as they watched donghyuck wrap his arm around your waist, your head finding a place on his shoulder. suddenly, after seven whole seconds, the room burst into a cacophony of commotion, jeno dragging you to the side to question if you were sane, jaemin and renjun laughing at the absurdity but taking time to spout a few incoherent sentences, and jisung and chenle openly gawking at the unfolding situation.

it was a whole twenty minutes before everyone started to notice how quiet donghyuck was, only talking when he was talked to and even then, replying with straight and not sarcastic answers. all the boys seemed to find it strange and renjun finally voiced, “the hell happened to you, did y/n threaten you or something?”

the world seemed to shrink around him as donghyuck felt his throat constrict, looking between you and the boys as if any of you could give him a clue as to what to say. your eyes were just as curious as the rest but he knew they held some sort of expectation. you’d grown to like the real donghyuck, not the funny, boisterous one. but the boys were all expecting him to burst into giggles and crack jokes like they were all he was made of. his head whirled, not wanting to choose between you or his friends and feeling like the entire situation was unfair. it was unfair that he couldn't rest easy just being himself. that he had to be a certain someone in front of his friends so that he could feel like a friend. but despite the inner rumbling of thoughts, he ended up plastering a wide grin onto his face, quipping back at renjun with a, “‘course she did, she hates my guts.”

the boys all glanced at you expectedly, seeing if you would laugh at what your boyfriend had said. now it was you that felt uncomfortable. squirming under all the stares of your friends, you could only give a small smile, feigning a chuckle, before the boys deemed that enough to move on. it's right then and there that you realized exactly what the fuck you'd gotten yourself into. you felt the teeniest bit disappointed, in him and in yourself. him for having all that damned pride and you, for forgetting that he had all that damned pride.

it was at the forty-eighth hour of your relationship when you finally had the chance to drag the boy into the silent laundry room off the hall and confront him, dumping him for the first time because what the hell were you thinking? the usual, careful (not carefree) y/n that you'd known all your life had been replaced with this foreign and terribly impulsive persona in the face of a pretty boy. somehow, you’d let feeling of infatuation and desire revert all your cumulative dating experience and deem your rationality useless. all for a boy. a boy who could go on for days about how you weren’t ‘one of them’ when he really meant that he just thought you were prettier than the others. you felt like you were really just another one of his date-and-ditch girls. like he was slapping his dick in your face, and not even in a sexual way.

the last day of your weekend elapsed quickly and you had already found yourself cornered by donghyuck before your first class. you would have blatantly ignored him, had he not been screaming your name at the top of his lungs, alerting everyone within a mile radius. his face was drawn into a playful grin and you felt yourself cringe internally because you couldn’t piece together how you could’ve possibly dated a boy that would yell at you to get your attention with a goddamned smirk on his face the day after you had dumped him.

dragging him by the elbow to the nearest bench, you forcibly sat him in the seat, looking down at him like a mother giving her child a scalding glare for misbehaving. his face now donned something you hoped was guilt but edged the line of being shameful. “why are you embarrassing me? it’s nine in the morning.”

indeed, his voice was small and he seemed upset that you used such a reprimanding tone on him. “sorry, i just wanted to get your attention.”

“and now you have it,” you huffed, “what do you want?”

once again, without missing a beat, he blurted out, “to get back together.”

your mind longed to reminisce the feeling of his eyes, sincere, on yours but even then, you felt like a joke to him. “no.”

“but y/n-“

“no, hyuck. i don’t want to be another one of your girls that you think are 'pretty enough' to take to that fancy little restaurant you frequent.”

“you’re not.”

“oh, so all of a sudden i mean so much to you.”

“not all of a sudden, i- i’ve-“

donghyuck’s throat closed up before he could let you divulge in his little secret. he knew he would’ve probably been better off telling you the truth, as embarrassing as it would be for him, but it was too early, he told himself. he wanted to be sure about your feelings for him. he wanted to build a relationship with you, not pressure you with words he knew you weren’t ready for.

“you’ve what? lost your ability to speak?”

oh, how he would’ve loved that snappy attitude of yours had it not been directed at his poor self. he gulped visibly before settling for a half truth that wouldn’t make you freak out and avoid him like the plague, “i’ve started to like you, y/n. and not the way i like the others. you’re different, i swear.”

you bit down harshly at your lip, wondering if you were destined a shitty love with a disloyal boy. shaking your head, you pulled your phone from your tote, more than ever wanting class to start as soon as possible. to donghyuck’s dismay, it was. slipping your phone back, you raised your head to be met with wide eyes and you cursed yourself for almost wanting to ruffle his hair or tug at his cheeks or pull him into a hug… anything to get that little pout off his face. but you digressed, giving him a placid smile and a, “i have class, see you later,” before turning on your heel, thankful that you hadn’t succumbed to such silly urges.

class had been uneventful, a flurry of taking notes that you would later go back to and realize didn’t even make sense. your friend and usual seat partner, dayoung, had decided that today was the day to ditch. you supposed she’d either blacked out from drinking or had an incurable hangover, the cost of her monstrous drinking habits. it was a shame, you thought while packing up, that you would have to go to the cafeteria alone and eat alone.

exiting the lecture hall, you’re met with donghyuck once again, eyes burrowed into his phone. his brows are drawn together in concentration before he hears the shuffling of feet, courtesy of your fellow classmates, and you saw how he immediately searched the crowd for you, or you're assuming. you wanted to screech at him, what in the name of god was he thinking? picking you up after class? but you turned on your heel, almost getting ready to sprint to the back door of the building. before you could even get two steps in, donghyuck’s fingers were gently tugging at your elbow, forcing you into a spin to face the culprit of your classroom daydreams. his grip tightened as if afraid you’ll shrug him off and you saw the way he nervously shoved his phone into his back jean pocket, fumbling around for a bit until it finally slotted in. he let go of you rather abruptly, seemingly suddenly aware that his hand was there in the first place, and cleared his throat a little louder than he had aimed to.

“do you want to go get lunch with me?” his voice was shy, and it caught you off guard in the slightest because of how collected he seemed. nevertheless, you’re persistent if nothing.

“no, i’m eating with dayoung.” the lie fell past your lips like honey and you’re about to give yourself a mental pat on the back when a small, knowing smile eased onto the boy's face.

“dayoung’s at jaemin’s. she’s got a bad hangover from yesterday’s party.” damn, you would’ve been celebrating two victories, one for successfully lying and another for being right about dayoung’s tendencies, if you hadn’t forgotten that the girl was jaemin’s girlfriend and that jaemin was one of donghyuck's best friends. your lips flattened into a thin line as you grasped at nonexistent excuses to toss at him. his smile had widened, the light in his eyes shining, before he, again, took you by the elbow and led you to his car, admittedly not giving a fuck as to whether you were okay with it or not.

“come on, i didn’t wait a whole hour and a half outside to just let you go off on your own.” his little comment had you stopping in your tracks. he looked back at you, confused, the little frown on your face igniting unease in his mind. “you waited?”

“of course i did, baby.”

“don’t call me that.”

“okay fine, y/n.”

“why would you wait?”

“because i like you,” another smirk, “i said what i said and i meant what i said.”

(it’s not everyday that flustered!y/n enters the chat but when she does, god, hyuck swears he’s never been more in love with just the way someone blushes. he loves it, he lives for it.)

you escaped the gaze of his star struck eyes by stalking to the passenger side of the car, standing by the door and waiting for him to unlock the vehicle. willing himself out of his fanboy trance, he thumbs the key in a hurry and gets into the drivers’ seat with even more enthusiasm. with each progressing second he spends with you, he can't help but want more and more to get to know you. his actions were eager, putting the car in reverse, easing out of the parking spot, fingers nimble on the gear stick. as usual, the drive was dead silent off to a place that donghyuck didn’t bother to mention. you figured out soon enough though, as he parked the car in front of a local thai restaurant. as you gathered your belongings, he took the opportunity to quicken his exit to open the door for yours. “you don’t have to do that, you know. i’m perfectly capable.”

donghyuck didn’t let your statements derail him as he also opened the door to the restaurant for you. you gave him a disapproving frown, even considering to just not go in, before begrudgingly entering. the place had a cozy feel to it, somewhat akin to a rainforest cafe except without the fake exotic animals and random trees. donghyuck rushed, as if it were his life’s duty, to pull out a seat for you, and you willingly let him see your eye roll. “i know you’re capable, y/n, i just want to do it for you, really.”

you scrunched your nose in distaste and ignored his late reply, opting to skim through the thickly binded menus the waitress had set upon the table. you take it upon yourself to order this time, despite having never been to the place, but you figured a pad thai and khao pad were the way to go. his eyes were on you the whole time, watching the way you articulated yourself to the waitress. you knew this but pretended, for the sake of your heart, to be oblivious to his antics.

unsurprisingly, donghyuck slipped back into his usual persona that he seemed to portray whenever he was around you. being in his immediate presence seemed to make your heart quake these days, reminding you of his charming smiles and smooth lines. maybe it was because of this that made you think it was a bit too selfish to assume that dating him would mean that he would willingly change his entire reputation, you doubted he liked you that much.

by the end of the meal the two of you were sporting matching shy smiles, feet fiddling with each other under the table and silent snickers with flirty cocked eyebrows. the air felt different when you were around him, the him that you adored. he made the worries on your shoulders lift and lightened the tight hold that life had on your heart. donghyuck was good to you, in all the ways that mattered and in all the ways that did not. it was a shame that you didn't let yourself fall for him sooner.

he took the initiative to end the mini date there, briefly informing you that he would be dropping you off at your apartment before the car ride blanched out into an airy silence. it would have been outright ignorant for you to dismiss the way your heart pressed against your chest and how it beat quicker than whatever pop song that was tuning in the background of your worries. thinking, you felt it was something that you should take upon yourself to right the situation. whatever you were feeling, whatever he had told you about how he was feeling, was something you just couldn't ignore. staring listlessly into the abyss of the creamy satin that laid against your lap, you took deep breaths that shuddered the nerves on your spine. donghyuck was an ex, but you also dated and broke up with him in such a flurry of emotions that there was no way to tell if it was justified or not.

pulling into a spot outside your building you rushed your mind to do anything, say anything. "hyuck," you began, not even in full comprehension of what you were about to say. his ears perked and his heart lurched at your usage of his nickname, the feeling of closeness boosting his confidence and affection for you. "yes?"

"what if we- no, i-," grappling at your hair you felt the words come short as they neared being voiced aloud. donghyuck could sense the tension that you incited with your stuttering but he felt drawn to the way your eyes flitted to everything except his own. he wanted them on his own. letting his weight shift onto the middle console of the front seat, you allowed his careful fingers to caress your chin and lift your sights to him. donghyuck's eyes were warm and inviting and instead of feeling a chorus of nerves, your voice found strength in the expression that graced his features.

"yesterday... i think i made a mistake," his eyes narrowed and his fingers moved to cup your cheeks in his hand. "what do you mean by that?"

"i mean, i want to get back together. i'm sorry if it seemed like i was expecting something from you."

donghyuck openly stared at you, wanting to memorize the way your face fell shy and conserved. he wanted to be the one to open up your heart and to be the one to treasure it. he wanted it all. so while you busied yourself with rapid blinking, your mouth opening and closing in attempts to cover up what you thought might have been yet another mistake on your part, he closed the distance between your lips and his, in a fateful crash. there was a certain passion with which he kissed you with that told a tale of longing and thoughtfulness. he was as warm as he looked, his lips showing you more than he had said in words. from a small but heartfelt kiss, you saw him in so many ways you hadn't before. his sincerity leaked through the simple but profound way he subtly sucked on your bottom lip and in your state of realization, you tried your best to form words from the emotions that had dawned upon you. with a hand on his neck, light but rubbing deep circles you leaned back into his space so that your breath would tickle with his, "i don't know how much i like you, hyuck. i can't even give you an estimate but i know that i like you. that, i know for sure."

"and that's all i need to know, baby." donghyuck slid the hand on your cheek to take purchase of the crown of your head and brought your figure into his. your arms fell down to his back, encasing him, as your temple hit the skin above his collarbones. he felt like home more than anything else. years of knowing of him and only days of actually getting to know him were all you needed for your heart to calm with his gaze, goosebumps to smooth over with his touch. donghyuck, you believed, was a good man, a beautiful, sunkissed man with a hearty laugh that would ring in your ears even in the moments after.

hyuck's presence, in so many ways, was already mounting to more than you thought it ever would and it was something that nagged in the back of your mind, ever so slightly, between the waves of adoration that swept through you with every interaction you held with him. it was dangerous territory, you thought, to be left alone without his persona by your side because then you would be utterly alone. alone to all your thoughts that kept you up at night because rationally, none of this made sense. rationally, he should not have been able to penetrate through your defenses, to break down your façade, to see the real you. it was a matter of days, not weeks, not even months, much less years. rationally, liking him was a no go. and being with him in any serious context was out of the question.

"woah. dragging me into the laundry room. well that can only mean two things, honeybee." his little remark would normally incite a small eye roll but you're too far in your head to really process the lightness of his joke, the lightness of his tone. two deep breaths, keep your hands away from him.

"hyuck, let's call this off." a serious tone.

"wait what?" it's been like barely a day." his gleaming eyes seemed to take it in anything but seriousness.

"i don't think i really thought this through. i just- it's all a little quick don't you think?."

"but babe look-"

"i'm sorry, again, but i really am not looking for something serious with you. that's what you want and i don't want to be the one who drags this on and makes it harder for me and you. whatever this was. let's just preten-"

"y/n, i'm not going to pretend this never happened, okay?" a pause, "because i know something happened. maybe you can't get serious with me but i know, for a fact, that you felt something at one point or another in this… this relationship." donghyuck's eyes are glossed over now with fresh tears. the very eyes that were filled with glee not two minutes ago. despite how wretched he looks, he continues without a hitch.

"you wanna break up? fine. i respect that but don't fucking say that this never happened. don't deny that what you felt, what i saw, never happened. it happened, baby. we happened."

taken aback in humiliation, you blinked back the oncoming wave of tears that were threatening to fall. he was right, you were impulsive, and indecisive, and though it was nowhere in your intentions to be selfish, that's what you were. two times now, that you've fucked yourself over.

and with your leave, donghyuck found himself at square one. or even negative one. he dated you, he dated you and he still found a way to ward you off, again. not even four days in total had he dated you and he felt the knots in his stomach tighten and curl up against his internal organs. he fucked it up, no matter if it was you that broke it off. he couldn't help but think that he was the one that scared you away. that he was the one that pushed you to fall for him so quickly and carelessly with flirty smiles and stupid chivalrous actions. donghyuck felt the tension build in his insides because he was so enamoured with being yours, for catching your eye, you heart, that he forgot to build a relationship with you, to build trust and reliability with you.

now, if you were to even look back on your relationship with him, or to even look at him in any sort of romantic way, you would only see the boy who could win smiles and little flutters of hearts but never any more than that. he found himself in the pits of regret and utter annoyance at his past self because he couldn't take a step back, for even one second, and show you more of how much of a partner he could be. he drowned in the possibility that he would only ever mark as pretty sex appeal and quick playboy fling in your charts. peak devastation.

but you, you will never admit the twist in your heart as you slipped out of the laundry room that day. not to hyuck, not to jeno, not to yourself. whatever games you believed hyuck to be playing on you, whatever games your own mind was playing on yourself, you were through with it. there was no way around that.

a headache, in bed. maybe a bedache. uncomfortable no matter how you positioned yourself. the sheets were crisp but cold to the touch and you found yourself drawing your limbs nearer to your torso, your arms encircling them to ensure a warmth. perhaps this bedache had been brought on by how you hadn't left the bed since early last night, how the sun had been up for awhile now, or even by the phone pressed between your left ear and those crisp sheets. radioactive stuff, you figured. jeno was drawling on and on, about what you couldn't put a finger on. if your best friend was any one thing in the world, he was a rambler. never knew when to stop and could never comprehend the general mood of the room. especially when it was just the two of you, you couldn't help but have your mind wander off onto other topics because frankly, you weren't sure if he himself knew what he was saying at this point. maybe if he could pick up on the fact that you were tired, or so so out of it then he would stop. maybe if he was a little more adept in noticing things about you, maybe if he was a little more like… like hyuck.

hell, you would've totally crushed on jeno if he had just a bit more common sense in social interactions (it's a total wonder how he has such an attentive girlfriend). but no, if anything hyuck was more your type than any of the guys in the group. huh, hyuck. how did he even end up in your train of thought?

sprawling your back flat upon the mattress, the cold curling up your tendons and rippling a small shiver down your spine, you thought about the events of yesterday morning. breaking up with hyuck--a good choice decidedly--suddenly seemed like a dick move on your part. surely you could've just worked through it right? you liked him, undoubtedly, why was it so hard to stay with him? the possibility of being hurt was relatively low, despite who he was, you figured because of how he acted around you, gentlemanly. the possibility of it ending up more than just a frenzied fling was also very high, with how much you had liked him in consideration. your mind was going on, still to this moment, about how quick it had been, about your secret fears of it being no more than a joke, about how you had seriously fallen for such a joking person. but then again, you couldn't just call him up and tell him, "hi, it's y/n. let's date. again. because i suddenly feel okay with it. again." (though in all honesty, donghyuck would still say yes).

the best course of action, you decided, was to wait it out. maybe school could keep your mind off of him and before you know it, the sight of him wouldn't make you suddenly self-conscious. and the sound of his voice wouldn't make the hairs stand straight at the nape of your neck. the aftereffects of his boisterous smile would stop, for once, from making your heart disentangle itself from the hold of your ribcage and the butterflies would stop flying all together. to your dismay, monday morning was comparably awful, just godawful.

your eyes are still wide and you're only slightly panicking when you say with a flat voice, “repeat.” donghyuck heaves another exasperated sigh. “i said,” he gives you a look that either means he thinks you’re annoying or he thinks you’re stupid (or both), “renjun thinks we’re still dating so he made a bet with me that if we stay together for a whole month, he owes me a hundred bucks.” his sneakers are tapping in such a rhythmic fashion that your eyes feel like they��ve been tranced but they’re pulled to his face when you finally process his words. “wha-“

you’re attempted response is cut short when he says, eyes rolling back, “i’ll split it if you fake it with me.” gosh, you wanted to smack him. you weren’t tight on money at the moment but an extra fifty dollars for a new dress, or the pair of heels you’ve been eyeing, or maybe even that one overpriced lipstick…your mouth seemed to work faster than your mind. “fine, a month,” his face lit up at your words, “but nothing extra, like no weird stuff when we’re alone.”

he nodded, a smirk slowly forming alongside his retort, “that is, if you can resist my pretty face.” it was your turn to roll your eyes and shove his frame farther away from yours as you were reminded of every reason you hated this kid. he was annoying, no way around that. you checked your phone and it lit up with a 9:57. you were going to be late for class.

you took brisk steps away from the boy towards your class across campus, not even bothering to bid him a farewell. "hey, wait up," he jogged to your left, trying to match your pace, "where you going? i thought we should drop by my place, renjun should be there with the rest of the boys." you quickened your steps, making sure that donghyuck couldn't distract you further before answering curtly, "i have class in like, less than three minutes." instead of backing off like he should've he only sidled up to you more saying, "oh okay, what class?" you huffed, clearly distressed that he couldn't take the hint and just go. "organic chem."

at that, his face seemed to grow even more excited, for god knows what reason, and he caught up with your fast-moving frame with a few skips, "at the kinley building? 'cause i could drive you." this time, you stopped in your tracks, weighing your options. if you declined and walked the whole way, there was the possibility you'd be late and donghyuck would probably tag along as well. if you went with him, there was no doubt you'd make it in time. you figured you would have to suffer being in his presence either way so might as well make it to class on time. "sure,” you muttered under your breath, upset that you had agreed to all his inquiries today.

his left hand clasped around your wrist, as if to lead you to his car, but you promptly unhooked it, not even chancing a glance at his face as you followed behind him. skinship had been prominent while you and him were dating, despite the time being short, and you didn't hate it but it freaked you out nonetheless how he could be so touchy without knowing you all that well.

approaching the parking lot, you could already spot his beat up 1998 honda civic, sporting the signature scratched navy blue paint. sliding into his car, you could recall the very first night he'd taken you to dinner. how his cheeks had been pink the entire drive there, anxious that you would notice the remnant smell of the fried chicken he had the night before. you could remember, with striking detail, how clouded your mind had been and how you'd let donghyuck's childish antics keep you from realizing what exactly you'd done.

shaking your head from the memories, you kept your gaze straight and mouth shut for the rest of the ride; donghyuck seemed to notice this and followed suit. you were struggling to think about anything except the boy next to you but you persisted to fight it because the complications were too much for you, donghyuck was too much for you.

class? uneventful. your mind? bustling. with what? donghyuck, donghyuck, donghyuck, and fucking donghyuck. the end of class signals an expectation you were pondering in class and upon exiting, you find it to be true. donghyuck is leaning up against the wall adjacent to the door to the lecture hall you were just in and he's already smiling at you, kind and sweet. the drive to the boys' house is strikingly quiet in the most uncomfortable way possible but it's immediately the least of your worries when you pull up upon the driveway of the cornflower blue painted house. donghyuck pulls the keys from the car and you don't allow him to open the door up for you, stepping out just as he reaches for the handle. his hand, hovering midair, swoops back to the curls at the foot of his neck, twirling them as if he was originally to make a dramatic gesture out of a simple act.

before donghyuck can turn the key into the keyhole, he sets an arm around your shoulders, without looking you in the eye and clears his throat. "we might wanna at least seem, you know…" his comment is received with your head on his shoulder, the same position the two of you were in while walking into this very house less than a week ago. he chances a glance down at you but regrets because his face is quite literally all up in your space. he can see the little ridges of your eyelids and the individual hairs of your eyebrows, all the miniscule details of the light makeup you adorned and the blush on your cheeks that's far too pink to be solely composed of any powder or swash. he briefly wonders if the causation is of his sudden proximity but is interrupted when the door in front of you splits open, the keys departing from donghyuck's clutches and jangling against the wood.

his face is still mere centimeters from yours and renjun is looking, delighted and sickened at the same time so you take the liberty to peck a quick kiss upon the bridge of donghyuck's nose before shooting a shy smile at renjun and brushing past him into the house, leading hyuck by the hand. the boy himself is halfway zoned out because of the fact that you had initiated pda first. snapping from his momentary daze, he feels a sudden courage surge through his chest, his flirty sweet attitude fully consuming the doubt and insecurities that were once peeking through his composure.

"so how you guys holding up this time around?" renjun questions as he perches himself at the edge of a one person couch, already occupied by jisung. the younger boy pushes him off playfully and is, in turn, shot a death glare and a muttered curse. jisung merely shrugs which makes the aforementioned boy even more riled up, the whole situation giving you and donghyuck a few moments to give each other looks confirming who's to be answering. his little nudge gets you spitting whatever tumbles out first.

"better than ever actually, we're kinda just ignoring the fact that that first breakup happened. you know, it was just a small fight." donghyuck's eyes nearly bulge out at your slip up but he's already wracking his brain for a backup reason in case renjun catches the mistake.

"first? what do you mean first?" you can already see the smirk growing on renjun's face, preparing for his hundred bucks. thankfully donghyuck, quick-witted as ever, is right on his tail, "yeah we got broke up a few hours after we got back together, a sick joke on y/n's part."

silently, praising hyuck for how skillfully he handled the near-debacle, you follow up with a realistic, "you thought it was funny too though, don't act like you didn't enjoy my acting!" at this, renjun's quirked eyebrow returns to its rightful place and he retrieves his phone from his jacket pocket to get everyone's pizza preferences for delivery. jaemin enters at this moment. his eyes are sparkling with mirth and he's walking backwards, both hands interlaced with a noticeably tipsy dayoung.

"shit, dayoung. already? it's three in the afternoon," you voice while ambling in her direction. you see the way she barely acknowledges you while burying her face into jaemin's chest, mumbling incoherent sentences but jaemin supplies your question by telling you that, "she had a shit day, forgot to write a whole essay and a half." blinking in somewhat understanding, you then cross the room to where donghyuck is now sitting on the couch and while he pats his lap, you take the spot on the floor in front of him so that his knees peer at the sides of your head. immediately, you feel him sit up to accomodate you by softly raking his fingers through your hair.

dayoung, currently sitting smack in front of the tv and successfully obstructing everyone's viewing experience, now speaks with a slightly more sober tone, "ya, y/n, i can't believe you didn't tell me that you and donghyuck are dating. i had to figure out through jaemin. imagine how shocked i was to hear that! i thought you absolutely despised him…" the room is awfully silent and you hear the beginnings of words come from donghyuck behind you when dayoung finishes up her little spiel, "... i always thought you liked him though, or at least thought you two looked good together."

the rest of the boys beside donghyuck are absolutely loosing their shit because y/n liked hyuck for how long?! donghyuck is equally loosing his shit though he tries his best to suppress the blush that's sure to be washing over his features. his heart is pumping at a haphazard pace and his fingers have slid down from your hair to your neck, then shoulders. he hopes you can't feel the shakiness and lack of confidence that seeps through his demeanor, making his pupils shake and ever so conscious of how you are stilled in this moment. donghyuck wants to see the look on your face.

your face, unbeknownst to the boy behind you, holds no surprise. dayoung had said that same line to you over and over again, claiming that your dislike towards the boy was all part of a covert operation to mask your true feelings for him. in all honesty, the topic of this had replayed in your head for quite some time as well because although in the forefront of your mind you knew that you genuinely did not like donghyuck's character, you couldn't help but ponder the specifics of why exactly you always sought to be upset with him when really you could have minded your own business. and with that thought, you seldom admitted to yourself that donghyuck did draw some sort of your attention to him, attraction or just wonder in general.

you almost want to rush and clap a hand over her mouth as another of her drunken speeches comes into play but she beats you to the chase. "let's go on a double date! or triple, yes, triple! i wanna see this 'relationship' up close, y'all are suspiciously cute."

donghyuck's heart speeds and yours drops.

turns out, drunk dayoung and sober dayoung are pretty alike when thinking, proven by how sober dayoung had no recollection of her drunken triple date proposal but had also suggested the same exact thing in a sober state. the mirrored version of you that you are so carefully inspecting at the moment looks slightly fucked up, you think. sure, your outfit and makeup are on point as usual but it's the way your stomach churns and eyes shift uneasily that give way to how you're really feeling. nervous.

walking over to where your small array of handbags are perched upon the windowsill above your fair selection of shoes, you slip on a simple pair of square-toed picnic heels to go with your blue and white 'modern-day belle from beauty in the beast' look. your doorbell sounds throughout the apartment just as you're about to pick out a bag and you scuffle over, still trying to get your toes lined up, to the front door so as to not keep donghyuck waiting. upon opening, you give the boy a quick once-over before deciding that his simple outfit of washed blue loose fit jeans and a semi-fitting white shirt matched perfectly to your own.

"am i approved?"

a small smile graces your features before you nod lightly, turning your back to him but leaving the door open at his leisure. "you most certainly are." stepping within the confines of your space, donghyuck's face breaks into a childlike grin when he notes, "look at us, we're even matching."

you give him an absentminded chuckle in agreement, much too focused on whether a wickered crossbody or the pearled mini tote would do your coordination justice. shaking your head in a frenzy you snatch up the pearled item, astounded that you even thought of introducing a whole new color and texture into an already perfect ensemble. donghyuck watches with an amused grin but paid more attention to your actual apartment than the girl that lived in it. suddenly, you're aware that this is his first time being allowed up into the premises and how awkward this would play out in your mind now that you're aware but you do your best to shake the thought and return to loading your bag with your assigned lipstick, keys, and phone before ushering the boy out altogether.

the two of you are the last to arrive of the three couples, unsurprising to him only. donghyuck will never leave this out for discussion but he purposely drives slowly, so as to give himself as much time with you as possible, even if you end up hissing scornfully at his delayed turn and the way the space between the car you're in and the car in front always seems to increase.

with the drive in consideration, you are slightly annoyed as you exit the car without the assistance of donghyuck and is slightly relieved to see jeno and jaein walking from the parking lot as well. catching up to them, again without donghyuck, you make small talk with jaein while jeno eyes you will curiosity. before you can jump head first into a heated debate about your shared nutrition professor with jaein, donghyuck's arms slots behind your back and you're startled for a split second. noticing the glare you give hyuck, jeno asks good-naturedly, "something happen on the drive here?"

huffing exasperatedly but relieved you get the opportunity to complain, you reply in the most sincere manner given the topic of discussion. "hyuck here, drives so unbelievably slow, i don't know how we got here even remotely on time." said boy is chuckling with an amused face but removes his arm from the small of your back and instead intertwines your fingers. he adores it when you get riled up with insignificant actions. shaking your head, you let donghyuck lead you to the end of the clearing where jaemin and dayoung are at looking across the landscape.

it certainly is the most picturesque spot for a date, the lavender fields sprawling lazily between the two hills. along the view there are several, maybe five or six, couples that seem to have gotten the same idea in coming here but you're pleased that today would be a fairly undisturbed date. your group of six quickens the pace along the trodden dirt path and you're all too aware that wearing heels, albeit low, with a stick heel was a nightmare on soft terrain. you found yourself sinking into the ground with each step of the way and it's only natural that hyuck picks up on this, being only steps behind you, hands still interlocked and now sweaty.

he switches the hand in which he holds yours and connects his other with your adjacent. taking a large step, you feel his front press against your back as his voice pulses softly into your ears, "want me to carry you, babe?" a chortle crossed with a scoff passes your lips but before you could quip back a line on just how capable you were, the heel of your left shoe caught particularly deep in the soil and upon trying to retrieve it, your balance was replaced with incoordination. hyuck steadies you by moving his left hand around your waist and rights your stance but then slides his other arm beneath the alcove of your inner knees and swiftly removes your weight off the floor. you're not left breathless or starstruck by his smooth actions but his eyes, now matching your gaze, are enough to stop you from retorting to his kind gestures. surely, he meant nothing more of it than a simple solution to a friend's problem and a token of performative pda.

arriving at a particular grassy clearing about half a quarter mile into the field, you see that jaemin and dayoung who were at the head of the group had already spread wide the picnic blanket they had brought, the large wicker basket that jaemin had looped around his arm on the way here was seated atop. donghyuck only lets you down only when he's right at the foot of the blanket and dayoung gives you a playful grin, which you return with a shit-eating one of your own, followed by a giggle that erupts from jaein as a spectator of the scene. the weather is warm but not hot, the rays of the sun light on the skin and far from blinding, and the grass is dewy but dry enough for it to stop from clamping through the thin fabric of the pink blanket. sure, you admit, a triple date on a day like this, with a view like this, was definitely a good idea.

hyuck makes sure to grab a few napkins as soon as the basket is opened and he trods back over to where he had set you down, crouching and lifting your left shoe off your foot so he could clean the soiled heel. he does the same for the other, all whilst you're looking up at him with such sincere and loving eyes. it is far from intentional but donghyuck knows that the easiest way to your heart is found in simple but profoundly touching actions.

an hour into the brunch, you seem to have grown accustomed to donghyuck feeding you food, refilling your drink, and just being the most attentive you have ever seen him be. you chalk it up to the fact that he's just closer to the platters of food set in the center of the blanket as well as the fact that he needs to make as much of a show as he can out of this. chatter is pleasant, the other two couples equally as enamoured with one another over the whole group in itself, giving perfect leeway for donghyuck to squeeze in some one-on-one time.

"y/n," his voice causes your head to snap in his direction, eyes wide. "what?"

hyuck licks his lips, eyes glancing down to your own before realizing that now was definitely not the time. you felt like you could see the gears turning in his head when he answered, "let's go take pictures." nodding, you let him help you up and lead you to the nearest path, his hand guiding you slowly so as to not cause another inbalance. the path he chose ended up circling down further into the valley and he walks you down until the terrain flattened and treads back up the slope to get a picture of the flowers fanning out around you on all sides. his breath catches, keeps catching, with each second he stands there, focusing more on the little you on the screen than the picture he was taking of you. a few shots later and jaemin and dayoung had rounded upon the spot as well, jaemin offering to take some photos of the two of you together.

a light smile forms on donghyuck's features as he nears you, eyes glistening at contact with yours. perhaps it’s the way love simply works but he swears that even mother nature kneels before you, outlining your skin with a glow that could only be achieved with true happiness, the rays of light reflecting in your eyes gleam like pools of honey, and the way the flowers fan around you that made your figure seem even more sublime. hyuck blinks his running thoughts away as he makes haste to set an arm around your waist, tugging you closer to him. he can quite literally feel your head turn to look at his side profile, your nose barely dusting the heights of his cheekbones. he sucks in a breath and turns face-to-face with you as well, momentarily slowing time and the whole 'posing for a picture' scheme escaping his mind.

"okay, i got it. you guys looks so good together, who knew!" jaemin squeals, effectively drawing your attention away from his stare. you pick up on the small, "i knew," that dayoung lets out in a distaste full tone and exchange a funny glance with her. bringing hyuck's arm from behind you and lacing fingers with him instead, you beam up at the other couple as you offered to take a few shots of them as well.

the six of you only spend an hour longer at that destination, being full-time college students didn't exactly allow full-fledged dates but with the time considered, you had fun. slipping back into the passenger seat of hyuck's car, with the boy closing the door shut behind you, you rummage through your handbag to find the packet of blotting paper you are sure you put in there. just as you see it, your eyes catch onto a bright red, packaged candy lodged in the far corner. donghyuck returns to his side of the car just as you withdraw the stick from the bag, eyes gleaming as you held it out for him to see.

"that's-"

"the lollipop you gave me, that day, at the valentine's dance." you give a small childlike chuckle before unwrapping the candy. he looks almost distressed, "and you're eating it now?"

"yeah, why the heck not."

"i mean, i thought that you'd save it for, you know, sentimental value." your eyebrows raise with his comment.

"huh, i never pegged you as one who cared about that kinda stuff."

"i- well, i guess there's never a better time to learn."donghyuck took a deep breath.

"how 'bout this then?" you position the lollipop up and slightly to the left of his face as your other hand busies around the bag for your phone. swiping to the camera, you take a few shots of donghyuck's confused, enlightened, and then smiling face before withdrawing, "how's that for sentimental value?"

his eyes are in full acknowledgement of your cheeky attitude but he's thrown off guard just a few seconds later when your phone is thrust in his face, your lockscreen the same picture you'd taken moments ago. "cute, right?"

donghyuck's hands are shaking as he reverses the car from the parked spot with feigned ease. "yeah, real cute," he mutters under his breath but just at the right pitch for you to hear. the small smile that graces your snickering expression just shoves it further into his face that any way he tries to rationally run from you, he'd end up right back in your presence, drawn to you in ways even he cannot yet comprehend. he knows that no matter if he tries to avoid the fact that every moment spent with you further solidifies his daydreams into reality or tries to delude himself into thinking that he's in this solely for the fifty bucks, either way, he's fucked.

donghyuck's beyond stressed and more than ever wishing that time could work in his favor for once and pick up pace past the worrisome week ahead. he has an inkling that the library is already packed to the brim but he's convinced that if he wishes hard enough for a spot, one will magically clear itself for his studies. with no time to waste, he power walks past the information desk, past several rows of rich literature, and into the open field of desks. his suspicions, as they turned out, were right. each and every seat was occupied by one of many equally stressed out college students, cramming for the first day of finals that marked just under eight hours from now. donghyuck takes a roundabout the whole floor, just to make sure that he wasn't missing out on one of the coveted cushioned seats by the walls if any happened to be free. he's about to exit the premises, regret lining his already deteriorating mindset at the thought of having to memorize two months of information with chenle's music blasting from above, all three of jeno's cats taking purchase of his lap, and jisung entering every four minutes for entertainment purposes.

he really is about to exit, that is, until he sees you at the far corner of the establishment, earbuds tucked in securely, a sprawl of two computers, a tablet, three open books, and a whole ass stationary store displayed in front of you. in between two tall shelves and peering through a few books, he knows that if anyone were to comb their eyes about the room, they'd think him to be stalking. weighing his options, he decides to let you study in peace, not wanting to interrupt whatever was going on in that organized mess of yours.

donghyuck contemplates though, with the consideration that you had to have been at the library for a fairly decent amount of time to have secured such a good spot. the second the idea is brought to mind, he rushes out the building, almost sprinting and earning a few dirty looks thrown in his direction.

he really wishes he had driven his car instead of biking here, something jeno had convinced him was a good idea, but he makes do with what he has and pedals furiously to the convenience store on campus, a good nine minutes away. there, he buys a few bottles of energy drinks, other extremely caffeinated stuff, candy bars, and decides after a good minute, that chips were not the way to go, the loud packaging would give away to the strict eating policies all too easily. a stupid bright smile is plastered across his face, even as he finds himself paying an extra dollar for a bag to hold all the items. again, pedaling back furiously, he manages to make it to the library in only eight minutes this time but it's for naught since he spends the next fifteen with one knee propped on the seat of the bike, using it as a makeshift table to write and rewrite a little note to accompany the goods.

stuffing the paper bag into his backpack and switching it so that it's strapped on his chest rather than his back, he hurries into the vicinity to find that you're still there. donghyuck waits. he picks up a book on graduate level psychology and attempts to read it with one eye on the text and the other on you, not that that's how it works, both his eyes are really on you. he does this for a total of forty minutes until you finally get up for the restroom and on cue, donghyuck makes sure to be discreet when sliding from between two bookshelves and placing the paper bag upon your seat. he leaves promptly.

donghyuck arrives home with his heart thumping loudly, reminiscent of the feeling after running a whole marathon. his phone dings and his first thought is of you. instead, it's a reminder: religious studies final, 8:00 AM. the time above it reads 1:09 A.M., so much for 'no time to waste,' he thinks.

you're relieved that your quick restroom break was quick enough that your stuff wasn't cleared out by the snappy librarian or any other crazed undergrad. but to your confusion, your spot has now been replaced with a brown paper bag, medium in size and clandestine in contents. with careful hands, you slit open the bag, keeping your distance in the unlikely case that it was a motion-activated bomb (a valid fear, may i add). surprise lights your face as you see a few of your favorite candies, as well as a bundle of energy drinks that you so desperately need. a post-it is tacked to one of them and you pluck it up with two fingers and bring it to sight. 'hope this helps, don't get in trouble for eating tho. -ldh.'

you pause, your breath halts. a small hand accompanies your gaping mouth that regresses into a soft smile. this boy, he was really something else. your dedicated studies continued, but were futile given the fact that all you could think about was lee donghyuck, a sweet, sweet boy who waited god knows how long for you to take a restroom break so he didn't interfere with your concentration. lee fucking donghyuck. dissolving your emotions so you could dutifully return to your misery, you let your shoulders sag, letting out a sigh, what a mess you were in.

with finals out of the way, you're now facing the second big event of the month. a heavily anticipated move. the apartment you're currently occupying is quaint, but small, cozy, but inconvenient. unfortunately, jeno had already headed back to his hometown, having one less class and therefore one less final than you. none of your other friends were equipped with the abilities to be hauling heavy furniture to and fro so you were left to either pay someone or find someone. much of your conscious had already decided who that someone would be but you lacked the courage to carry the proposition through.

you pondered the situation while driving to your new place that was closer to campus, larger in size, and with thicker walls so you wouldn't have to hear your neighbor pounding her boyfriend in 8D audio with only a cardboard wall to separate your eyes from the scene. pulling into a parking space you steeled your resolve and dialed the number.

he picked up in one and a half rings, "y/n? hey, what's up?" donghyuck's voice comes out raspy on your end.

"shoot did i wake you up?"

the boy clears his throat, lying he replies, "no i was just packing, do you need anything?"

"uhh, yeah. a favor. if you could, i just need someone to go to ikea with me to help carry furniture and stuff. and since jeno's out of town, i just thought i'd ask you."

"oh," he sits up straight in his bed, "yeah, yeah i can go with you. when?"

"maybe like...now? sorry, this is so last minute.”

donghyuck is already on the move, unearthing your favorite sweatshirt of his from his already packed suitcase, "no, not at all. i'm basically done here anyways."

"right, cool. i'll text you the address. when will you be here?"

"ten minutes," he blurts out, "i- is that good?"

"okay, see you." you hang up, heart hammering in your chest.

you wish the mirror in your new bathroom was full-length because you are currently stood atop the rim of the bathtub adjacent to it, the crown of your head unceremoniously shoved against the rail of the shower curtain, trying to get a good look at whether your ensemble is fit for the occasion. a baby blue mini crop top with a pair of loose sweats drapes your figure and you wonder if furniture shopping with the boy you like requires something a little more cohesive. sighing, you figure that all your worrying was in vain, since the moving van you ordered with all your packed up clothes in it isn’t scheduled to arrive until 6 in the evening.

just as you finish reapplying your gloss, the doorbell sounds, the unfamiliar ring causing you to yelp in surprise. you answer the door, donghyuck's face lit with humor, "i heard that." your cheeks flame a tad bit before you realize with a pout, "oh, guess the walls aren't as thick as i thought then." donghyuck smirks, an expression that you miss but you go on to list to him the things you were planning to buy that you didn't already have moved in yet. a couch, two lamps, a nightstand, and four very specific potted plants. he watches you with sparkles in his eyes, as if they were reflecting your own.

"right let's go, then," nodding, he snatches his keys.

"your car or mine?"

"mine, the trunk's bigger," he reasons and you nod.

minutes later, you stand dumbfounded as you stare at his 'bigger trunk.'

"so you're saying, that you're gonna shove a whole ass couch in here."

"that's right, sweetie." not even thinking to correct his term of endearment, you slam the trunk door shut, nearly decking him in the head. "if it doesn't fit, i'm having you ride the bus back with the couch."

"sure thing, babe." he answers nonchalantly, seeing as you haven't caught on.

"and alone too, i'm not bouta be seen in public with a man carrying a couch on a bus."

"got it, honey." he’s beginning to enjoy this.

"shit, maybe i'll even have you pay for it if that happens."

"fine by me, love." his smile is on the verge of splitting his ears.

shutting the car door of the passenger seat closed, "gosh, what if i just send you to get the stuff by yoursel- wait, what did you just say?"

donghyuck's face shines golden in the afternoon light, "nothing, dear."

"hyuck, you gotta be kidding me."

"kidding about what, babygirl?" he looks as if he is to burst of happiness.

"lee donghyuck, i'm being serious." but the little smile that edges on your face gives it all away so he goes on.

"as am i, lovebug."

shaking your head, you turn to look out the window in embarrassment as donghyuck pulls out of the parking spot with the stupidest grin on his face. it isn't until you guys are halfway there that he returns to a normal calm but fails to guard his mouth from saying anymore. "you good, sweetpea?"

"hyuck…"

"c'mon, say it back, princess, i know you want to." he gives a few quick glances in your direction, eyebrows jutting up playfully.

the smallest of smiles adorn your face as you let out a, "geez, baby," muttered under your breath. the same old stupid smile is back on his face now, his ears are perked, but you can tell he’s nowhere near satisfied yet.

"what'd you say? i couldn't quite hear you."

silence.

"y/n, c’mon, what'd you say?"

"... i said...geez, my lil’ bitch."

he breaks out into ripples of harmonious laughter that ring in your ears like the first few chords of your favorite song. you follow him, peals of laughter emitting at just the sight of his joyous face. this marks the first car ride you share with the boy that isn’t bathed in complete silence but instead, smiles and comfort and bouts of flirty tension hanging in the air despite no one spectating.

the trip to ikea is straightforward in its purpose, you point and donghyuck carries. he masks the fact that he really isn't the one for heavy lifting jobs pretty well by wiping the sweat off his forehead when you're not looking and taking gargantuous swigs of water when you're too busy measuring dimensions and surveying durability. he also makes sure he has a say in the pieces you decide on, wanting something for you to remember him by whenever you look at the extra flower print pillow cases he convinced you to buy. while you're paying at the checkout, he makes it his job to buy two vanilla ice cream cones for you to commemorate hard work. the smile and shy thank you that you give him makes him feel a good deal important.

donghyuck ends up exerting a lot more energy than he thought he would on this little venture, shoving the gigantic box of unassembled couch half into the trunk and half into the backseat, the rest of your purchases having little to no space to themselves. you notice his fatigued state and offer to drive home in his place. he's hesitant to agree but feels the weight of his arms and complies. as soon as the car doors are shut and the overhead light goes out, the two of you take a few minutes to collect yourselves.

"thanks for today, hyuck."

he closes his eyes, head leaning back on the headrest, "my pleasure, sweetheart." you start up the car.

halfway into the drive you notice that donghyuck has started to nod off. feeling a little more courageous at the thought of him being unaware, you slip a hand into his, one still securely on the wheel. you smile to yourself, nodding along to the upbeat song playing on the radio, the volume turned down to the lowest dial. you pride yourself for being able to get away with the action but you only think you do. donghyuck knows the feeling of your skin on his. he knows the unmistakable sparks that ignite in his little belly of butterflies, and even if he is half asleep, he feels you more than anything. he loves you more than anything.

you convince hyuck to take the guest bedroom for the night, laying newly washed sheets on the bed just seconds before he passes out on top of them. oddly though, you yourself are woken up the following day by a string of curse words that come from the living room. groggy and barely awake, you trudge into the open space to see donghyuck with an instruction manual inches away from his face, his eyebrows drawn in. parts of the couch are sprawled all around him and you wonder when and how he woke up in the first place.

"hyuck, what're you doing?" your voice is still heavily-laden with sleep and you cross the room to the kitchen, reaching for the first water bottle you see. "woke up a bit early and thought i'd do this for you since i have to leave at 10 for my flight and i didn't want you to be doing this alone."

you crouch on the floor beside him and offer him the water which he takes. "that's...very thoughtful of you." he doesn't answer but continues assembling the pieces with a proud smile on his face. meanwhile, you busy yourself by making a small breakfast with what you have in the fridge, a simple egg, cheese, ham english muffin sandwich. he eats it gratefully by shoveling it down hurriedly so he can get back to work, giving you a few feel-good laughs. he's done in about an hour and, not without your help, the couch is up and running (or sitting) and the two of you are reclined upon it, the new-couch smell overwhelming your senses. donghyuck checks the time and mumbles a quiet, "oh shoot," before he stands up abruptly, turning to tell you with sullen eyes that he has a flight to catch. you nod and walk him to the door, standing just across the threshold from him, dolefulness apparent in your expression as well.

"i guess i'll see you in a few weeks then," he voices as he looks up at you, tying his shoelaces.

"yeah, i guess so," your eyes never leave his, "make sure to tell your little siblings that y/n says hi okay?"

"psh, you've never even met them," donghyuck stands up straight now and you're craning your neck a little at his height.

"oh, so that one time over facetime doesn't count now?"

donghyuck gives a breathy laugh, he goes in for a hug that you reciprocate warmly. reluctance lies in his countenance as he draws back, not wanting to leave you so soon. you notice his lingering stare on you and instead of teasing him, or pointing it out, you urge him on with a hand on either side of him, "just go hyuck, i promise i'll call you later this week."

his stomach does little flips, "oh, okay," he says with a small voice, "i'll get going now then."

"okay, be safe."

"i will, babe." he just stands there looking at you with eyes full of mirth.

"oh my, hyuck, just go!" a small pout begins to form on his lips and you get the sudden urge to kiss it away.

"right, i'll be on my way." he turns away from you to walk to his car, but it's this time that you spin him back around to place a quick kiss to the lips, the smile on your face never leaving. feeling the blush beginning to seep into the skin of your cheeks, you rush back into the confines of your new apartment, leaving donghyuck to his own, flustered, devices. his feels lightheaded the whole flight back and it isn't until he is greeted at the door of his childhood home with the face of his mom, that he is brought back down from the heavens.

"donghyuck oppa has a girlfriend," his youngest sibling drawls out the last syllable as if to prolong the shock the simple statement has already inflicted upon him. his eyes are rounded and searching for any sign of disapproval in his parents’ demeanors but more so because he never intended for his family to know of your existence, seeing as it would be imminently irrelevant in just a few weeks. not only was it to dodge otherwise unimportant questions but his resolution was also linked to the fact that making you known to his immediate family felt like solidifying the ever-so-fake bond that persisted between you and him. surely, even though your relationship with him was anything but real, though was portrayed in the most real fashion, he couldn't admit to himself that the idea of you as his girlfriend in the eyes of his family brought him joy.

he watches as his mother claps her hands together in glee, exclaiming with full vindication, "how could you not tell me, hyuck!" she asks for a picture of you, your name, last name, major, how he had come to know you, when did this happen, (did you guys do it yet), and most importantly, if he loved you. he answers a quiet yes to his mother's last question but she seems to have moved on to intently stare into his phone screen that's displaying a picture you posted on your instagram a few weeks prior at the flower field. the first being a solo shot, your hair billowing lightly in the winds that seemed to blow solely for you, the gaze of your eyes fell heavy and serious, a stark contrast to the picture a swipe away, of you and donghyuck gleaming with matching smiles that rivaled the brightness of the sun, the caption reading 'my pooh bear <3.' looking back at the picture now even, he really does understand his mothers coos and 'aws.' you did indeed look ethereal.

he blushes at the thought of you and spends the rest of dinner steering conversation away from you and you-related topics, not wanting to delude himself any further from the truths that were itching in the back of his mind, that no matter how much his mother loved you, or even how much he loved you, it'd be hard for him to say that you held the same intense emotions for him as well. donghyuck retires into the confines of his childhood room as the general buzz of his family lowers into the night and he finds himself staring at pictures of him in high school, before he had met you. he wonders, for the first time, if he liked life better back then. chubby cheeks and a terrible smile, he still remembers looking in the mirror and thinking, handsome, but it's only been a few years in college and he can't remember the last time he looked in the mirror with his first thought being something other than will she think i look okay? donghyuck's string of consciousness derails further into the depths of despair, looking back on the lengths he'd gone to get a girl to getting the girl and loosing her, getting her again and loosing her again, and having to sever his true feelings from his façade just so that he could still claim you as his.

but then he's reminded of you, and how you're so dedicated in your studies but somehow still making time for friends and family. how when you care for people you care and especially of how he feels when he is the subject of your attention. donghyuck brings his little emotional escapade into a full circle when he realizes that he would still do anything to claim you as his because he simply cannot have it any other way. that despite the consistent feeling that he might never be enough for you, he would try to prove himself wrong, time and time again. that despite being dumped twice and a soon-to-be third time, he would still stick by your side, persistent if anything. he didn't just have feelings for you, a part of who he is today is built up by the successes you seemingly made him chase to become a better person in the name of you and for that, he could never see you in a different light and his heart will never fail to fail him at the sight of you.

but tonight, it's the contact name, my love, that lights his phone screen that makes his heart stutter. it's the way that your scratchy voice cracks through the speaker that makes his heart whimper. he gets up in fluid motions to shut the door of his bedroom closed, to allow himself to revel in your attention, undisturbed.

"hey there, i told you i'd call so i called," your think your voice sounds dumb, having rehearsed that same line a few times prior to actually following through with it. donghyuck loves it though, doesn't even acknowledge the rehearsed tone as he takes this as a chance to dive into a piled up vent on how his damned little sister, who shouldn't even know what girlfriends and boyfriends are, had outed his relationship with you in front of his whole family. he's nervous, but for only a split second because your hearty laughter fill his ears and suddenly sets the whole world still and at peace. he sighs in comfort as he listens to how your older brother brought his own boyfriend home and had been received just as warmly. he talks of how his mother's roast duck was slightly undercooked and how right in the middle of dinner he snuck it into the kitchen for an extra minute in the microwave. the two of you laugh at how chenle's proposition for a movie night gets widely left on read by everyone else in the group chat, though you end up feeling bad for the boy (and for laughing) and end up replying and setting up a time for when everyone returns to campus.

you feel a warm squirm in your heart and for once, you know what caused it. the boy on the other end of the line is so very endearing that you have no space for second guessing anymore. perhaps, perhaps.

talk dwindles down as you both get ready to go to bed at a starking 2:17 a.m. but it seems that sleepy you has more than enough to say. your eyes are on the brightly lit moon that's hanging out your window frame adjacent to your bed. you'd like to think that donghyuck is looking at the same moon, thinking the same things. it's a new but welcomed feeling that enters your heart, blooming into your lungs so that at the occurrence of every breath you take, you are reminded of the warmth he brings you. it's a sappy and deeply rooted feeling that you only now realize has been with you for ages on end and with this realization comes the courage to voice it aloud.

"i love you, hyuck. i fucking love you to bits and pieces."

you think he's already fallen asleep, the quiet that he's offering not doing any good to ease your wavering thoughts. not that you regretted saying what you said, it was truly what you felt for him, whether the relationship was real or not. but you weren't sure if he felt even remotely the same so staying under the umbrella of a fake relationship gave you the opportunity, should the times ever call, to recant your words in the name of performative indication.

the seconds were whizzing by quickly and your anxious mind counted to four minutes. four minutes of dead silence on his part. it's fine, you think as you hang up at the fifth minute, he probably just fell asleep. a weird feeling settles in the pits of your stomach that night. lee donghyuck likes you, that's for sure, but maybe you were the one that was rushing into it this time around. maybe hyuck expected you to bring up the fact that the two of you were still unofficially dating. or maybe he just liked to play around with your feelings while he could during this month. it was a mind boggling mess but you refused to let the boy get the best of you as you drifted off into sleep.

only god and lee donghyuck himself know that he heard you loud and clear that night. the three words he'd been yearning to hear finally and in actuality formed from your lips, for him and him only. but fate tells him it was only a figment of his half-asleep imagination, and only god knows that what he heard wasn't a dream.

huang renjun beckons lee donghyuck into the kitchen before the movie marathon begins. today marks one month. donghyuck pulls his phone out to see the hundred dollars even that renjun had transferred, he then transfers fifty of that to you. "so you guys still going strong?"

hyuck feels guilt and worry trickle between his grasps on confidence, "better than ever."

"she actually likes you back, huh, i can't believe i thought y'all would break up." renjun is pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, his gaze is turned towards the living room where everyone is gathered when donghyuck sees his eyebrows furrow. "shit, i forgot chenle invited mark." donghyuck turns to see his 'girlfriend' being hit on by one of his close upperclassmen. you seem to be oblivious but it's horridly obvious whenever mark attempts to flirt. seeing you smiling at his corny pickup lines, not quite laughing but not quite rejecting him either, donghyuck feels tendrils of unwelcome jealousy and hopeless distress as he traverses on light feet to where you're at, placing a hand on your lower back.

"hi, mark. it's been awhile, how're you these days?" he watches and, in what he knows is sick relief, mark blinks in surprise at the placement of his friend's hand that is plainly indicative of a relationship. "i've been pretty good, you?"

"great actually," donghyuck might've said that a little too enthusiastically, "i saw you were talking to y/n here. i don't think i've introduced you guys yet. mark, this is y/n, my girlfriend, y/n this is mark, a good friend of mine." he sees the pointed look you give him and is suddenly overcome with embarrassment. mark takes a few more minutes of your time before moving on to talk to renjun, the latter noting the tension between you and donghyuck and willing the boy away.

"donghyuck, what the fuck was that?" you're upset.

"what? he was being weird with you, i couldn't just sit here and pretend he wasn't." hyuck's attitude is snappy right off the bat and you can't help but seethe at how immature he's proving to be.

you retort, with equal force, "yeah, so what if he was flirting with me? what does that have to do with you?"

donghyuck starts to realize that there might be more to the reason you were so defensive in the first place, something having to do with the fact that in the most technical terms, he isn't exactly your boyfriend anymore. "y/n, why are you being like this?"

"like what? i think i'm being pretty rational."

"no. no, y/n, but he was outright flirting with you and you didn't even tell him you had a boyfriend." he knows he's grasping at loose strings but he needs to pry this out of you. to see how you really feel.

"hyuck, we need to talk about it. it's been a month."

as if you had laid it out straight for him, donghyuck feels the desperation crawl beneath his skin, "y/n, please." his tone is all of a sudden soft and you lock your eyes onto his. "let's not talk about it right now, please, not now." he watches as you bite your lower lip in contemplation and then as you nod lightly. "okay."

donghyuck isn't sure if his impulsive decisions have made him feel more relieved or afflicted with current circumstances. as the lights dim and the movie begins to run, he settles into the corner of the sectional that he claimed earlier that evening with his arms open wide. you don't hesitate to curl up on top of him, the warmth of his skin, all too familiar. both of you are ever so aware that this might as well be the last time your bodies are pressed against one another. and both of you are equally tormented by how true that may come to be.

the clock reads 3:37 a.m. when the movie ends and donghyuck is glad to see that the rest of the boys are quiet in exiting the room to their respective bedrooms. he can still feel the rise and fall of your chest on his and he's oh so careful not to move too abruptly, in the case that you might wake up and realize just where you had fallen asleep. he wishes that he could've spent a few more minutes, at least, admiring the curves of your face in the limited color the dim lights allow to reflect but it all passes too soon as someone (chenle) hits something (a doorframe) with some part of his body (his pinky toe) and wails out in pain (loud shrills), alerting you awake and anyone else that had the pleasure of falling straight asleep. he curses under his breath without realizing that you were right there and awake now, only feeling the embarrassment wash over him as your soft chuckle fills his ears.

"sorry, 'bout that. go back to sleep." his voice is low and you're so close to slipping back into unconsciousness but you will yourself to prop your chin up on his chest, directly above his quaking heart. "i'm hungry, hyuck."

he almost laughs at the absurdity of your statement. he guesses it's not completely unwarranted though since you have been asleep for the past nearly five hours but he still feels a small part of his subconscious mind tug at just how cute you are. so very cute.

"okay, princess. let's get you something to eat," he says as he dips his hands that were loosely looped around your back underneath your thighs and hoists both your combined weight up. your eyes are gleeful as he pulls you even closer to him, your own arms settling upon his shoulders. crossing the length of the room, he sets you down upon the kitchen counter. allowing himself to bask in your unadulterated attention for a few moments, he realizes the eerie silence that envelops the two of you. he slips his phone out from his sweatpants pocket and thumbs around until he lands upon a random playlist of his on spotify. hitting play, he sets the phone on the counter next to you, lowering the volume just a bit so that it wouldn't disturb the others in the house.

as donghyuck rummages through the fridge for some food, you fiddle with the zipper of the hooded jacket you're wearing. you're hit with the realization that the jacket isn't even yours to begin with and that it's hyuck's, the garment having been such a staple in your closet for the past month that it barely smells of him anymore, that it really is all yours at this point. looking around the dark room, you find yourself identifying everything you see in relation to hyuck. before you knew it, this little fake dating stunt had become so real that it was hard for you to swallow the feelings.

attempting to push past the oncoming wave of emotions, you focus your attention on other things. donghyuck's now throwing what looks like a years old hotpocket into the microwave without a plate. his back is turned to you but instead of getting lost in his messy bed hair and broad shoulders you notice the new song that replaces the previous one. it's mellow and soft and it takes you four seconds to realize just what song it is. slow dancing in the dark (by joji). maybe it really is about time to come clean with your feelings, no matter if they could be rejected or reciprocated. it isn't fair to be dragging this on, when it was fated to be ending right now, a reason to which you had broken up with him before anyways. for all you know, donghyuck might even be waiting for you to call it all off, in annoyance since the fifty dollars had already been done deal. looking around, you figure it's now or never as you slide off the counter, landing carefully on sock-clad feet. padding over, you wrap donghyuck in a snug back hug, hoping that he catches on to the situation.

he does, eventually, after you spin him about and lace your hands around his neck, swinging him around in exaggerated and silly motions. he responds with a hushed, "oh!" and continues prancing around with you before finally settling against the steady beat. the song does its job so well in calming your heart that you almost forget the reason you were a jittery mess in the first place. you prep your sappy, truth-laden speech with gruesome effort, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. little do you know, donghyuck is planning the same monologue, equally as gruesome.

the beep of the microwave resounds in the background, alerting you of how you came to this situation in the first place. but with this, his head dips into the crook of your neck as the song comes to a slow and you move your hand from his back to cradle his head. "what's wrong?" the kitchen is now silent, save for the occasional chirp of crickets and your feet shuffling around the tiled floor. donghyuck is silent himself, an inner debate ensuing your question. his chest feels heavy, the burden of a thousand lies resting upon it whilst he can only hold back his tears. he has everything he's ever wanted from you. to rest in your arms, to land a smile upon your lips, to hear an 'i love you' escape those very lips. he feels his emotions bubble up within him, threatening to spill before they really do, in the form of a soft, "i love you, y/n. that's what's wrong, i love you."

he raises his head causing your hands drop down to his back and he instantly misses the way they caressed the locks beneath his ears. he meets your eyes, through the thick haze of blackness that shrouded the room. "and i love you too," you say, voice equally soft but treading carefully; you're still unaware of the problem he's presenting, "what so wrong about that?" you tiptoe so that your foreheads meet and he has to suppress the urge to kiss you right then and there, to evade the hurt he knows will come, and so he simply hugs your body flush against his, as a substitute to his desires. your breaths tickles his nose and he closes his eyes, relishing in the moment before inevitably breaking it by saying, "because i mean it… and you- you don't. not in the way i do." your eyes penetrate his and your mouth parts to voice a response but he cuts you to it. "y/n, my love for you is real. it's always been. and i knew what i was getting into asking you do this with me but, i really wanted a second chance. i wanted it so bad and when renjun brought up the bet, even if it was fake, i just knew i had to take it. and i know this is shitty of me to just drop this on you while we're having this- this moment but i can't keep lying and pretending that my love for you is just- that it's conditional."

donghyuck lets out a breathy sigh as your hands fall from his back, his heart falling with them too. he can't see the expression on your face anymore, his eyes are glossed over with tears that are at the cusp of falling, but he isn't sure that he wants to. he's mad at himself for ruining the most perfect moment, for ruining such a calm night. the tension in the air is almost palpable but it's ripped to shreds as your hands return to cup his cheeks. tilting your head a little, you lean in for a sweet kiss, a small smile lifting the corners of your mouth as you withdraw. "who says i don't love you for real?"

it takes more than two minutes for donghyuck to collect himself, still in doubt of whether he's dreamt up the whole situation or if you are, in fact, being real. you're standing in his arms to remind him that you really are, sneaking small kisses on his cheeks every time he thinks he's finally calmed down. it's a lover's dream to be lee donghyuck, and y/l/n y/n can only fall deeper in love with every blossom of a blush rosing the tips of his ears.

you thank god, or whoever blessed this boy upon your life, that donghyuck was there that night at that stupid, stupid valentine's dance. and above all, you are endlessly indebted to renjun for his stupid, stupid bet. but mostly, you can't contain the utter awe you hold for donghyuck for simply being the perfect man he is. contrary to everyone's belief (and even your own, up until recently), donghyuck isn't an insufferable person. what they see is just a shell of a man who's too afraid to be the center of attention in any way other than 'the funny guy.' and realistically, it's only with the girl who's stolen his heart that he knows it's more than okay to be vulnerable and that maybe, just maybe, it's the only way to steal her heart back.

y/n and donghyuck share a love story they know they're lucky to be able to tell their kids and maybe even their grandkids. and if they have anything to learn from it, it's that falling in love is not just a matter of time but of circumstances, impulsive decisions, and reckless emotions. well, mostly just reckless emotions.

✧ end note — i got my first few likes on this blog a few days back and while i can say with full confidence that i do not write for follows and likes, it made me happy in the small yet extremely gratifying ways that simply writing and posting cannot. so for those few people who interacted with the teaser for this fic as well as anyone else who read up till here, guys, gals, and non-binary pals, i hope each and every one of you enjoyed reading this as much as i did writing this. with love, rouiyan.

#nct #nct fics #dreamwritersnet #nct-writers #nct haechan #haechanxreader #haechan imagine #haechan scenario #haechan fluff #haechan angst #haechan fic #i fucking did it #a whole 2k over projected amount #pain in the ass to proofread #tempted to write a spinoff for jeno and jaein #neck hurts #rouiyan fics #rouiyan writes

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imamotherfuckingstar-lord · 4 years ago

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Watch the World Burn

Dabi x Reader

Warning: grief, comforting, drinking, cursing. Tried keeping Dabi mostly in character - he’s an asshole after all.

Summary: Grieving Big Sis Magne’s death, Dabi goes to get you from the bar.

The room was dark, it was nearly two in the morning as Dabi’s cellphone chirped him awake; he sat up, annoyed and pressed. He reached for the cell off the nightstand and answered it. His voice was harsh and quick, the person on the other end got a slew of curses as they explained why they were calling. Dabi sighed and leaned against the headboard - you were piss drunk again at some bar.

“I’ll break your arms if you let her leave before I get there.”

Dabi hung up and took a minute to think about the situation - it was the third time this week that he was getting out of bed to fetch your ass. The others didn’t understand why you would go off to drink at another bar when there was one downstairs from your room. He understood, though - you were angry and grieving the death of Big Sis Magne. The entire league felt it but it seemed to hit you the most - the two of you had been close friends before joining Shigaraki’s group.

“Fuck.”

Dabi got out of bed, searching for pants and a jacket. He mumbled as he worked around his room, grabbing his cell and tucking it into his pocket before leaving his room. The bar was empty when he walked through it to the front door, noting to himself that for anyone else in the league he wouldn’t be doing this. He could care less, frankly; he had always been up front about being distant from the rest of the league. Shigaraki treated them like family; they were all loyal to each other but Dabi was loyal to himself.

At least he was at first, now it seemed, he was begrudgingly loyal to you.

Asshole, he thought as he walked out into the chilled night. He knew what bar you were at, it was only a few blocks away - at least you had the common sense to not stray too far from the base, that he was thankful for.

…

You sat at the bar, head spinning as your hand balled into a tight fist; you gazed round under the beer goggles that were your eyes, looking for someone to fight. Except the crowd was made of old men just as pathetic as you and there was no fun in that - you wanted to fight one person, Overhaul. You wanted to see him take his last breath as your fingers squeezed his throat - you wouldn’t even use your quirk, no, this was personal.

He was a dead man walking but you knew better than to act on impulse; Shigaraki promised revenge, he looked you dead in the eyes and told you not to worry - things would fall into place eventually but you were itching for a fight. Instead, every night, you came to this bar and drank until it stopped hurting. Magne had been your sister, your best friend and you watched her die, unable to do a damn thing about it. If it wasn’t for Shigaraki’s order to stand down, you would have done anything to kill Overhaul or die trying. At least then, you would be with her.

“You can’t keep doing this shit.”

Like clockwork, Dabi stood at your side. Eyeing the bartender, you glared at him as he tried his best not to notice. “There goes your fucking tip,” you shouted to him, pulling from Dabi when he grabbed your elbow.

“Get the fuck off me, I didn’t ask you to come.”

“Yet here I am,” he grumbled, pulling out his wallet. He settled the tab and helped you off the stool; you were too drunk and weak to struggle. One hand pulled at the collar of your jacket, he held it tight as he forced you out of the bar, not caring that you were having trouble walking.

Outside he pushed you forward and watched as you stumbled to the ground, palms faced down on the concrete as tears flooded from your eyes. His eyes watched as your back started to shake, his shadow casted a looming darkness over you as a wretched sob left your throat. You didn’t recognize it at first, it sounded as painful as it felt.

“I want to die,” you choked out, spit coming out as your forehead touched the ground. “Please let me die.”

Dabi closed his eyes for a moment, contemplating his life choices that had gotten him here - it was never his intention to have feelings for you, it just happened. You had broken down the walls he had put up, walls he defended with every inch of his being. You were the first person to make him feel something other than anger and hate - he still felt those things, still wanted to see the world burn but the difference was now he wanted you at his side.

HIs eyes snapped open and he inhaled the cold air as he stepped toward you. Kneeling he touched your shoulder, pressing his fingers firmly into the material of your black leather jacket. Gaining a grip, he pulled you off the ground and slipped a hand around the front of your waist. His throat dried as his hand slipped up your shirt, touching your hot skin as his finger spread like spider legs. Pulling you closer, your back rested against his chest as he rested his chin on the top of your head. Your head hung low as tears fell from your eyes, body collapsing against his.

“I’m too fucking selfish to let you die,” Dabi whispered, holding you up against him. His head dipped down near your ear, his lips harsh against your earlobe. Your tears steadied as he held you tight. “I’m not letting you fucking go.”

Your chin quivered as it fought to hold back a sob because everything felt like it was on fire; you were constantly crying, angry at the world and you realized as Dabi kissed behind your ear, that dying wasn’t going to fix it. Turning your body to face him, you noticed how tired his eyes were and felt guilty that he was coming out so late, yet again, to retrieve you. To bring you back to the bar, back to his bed where you slept. His face was severe but his eyes told a different story. They were soft and understanding, hungry and knowing as his hand touched the side of your face.

“Let’s go home,” he whispered, bringing his face down to yours.

Closing your eyes, the world felt dizzy as his fingertips touched your bottom lip, caressing gently as the night consumed you. It felt like it was just the two of you awake in the city as he finally kissed you. HIs mouth pressed firmly against yours as he dug his hands into your hair, tugging firmly as his body rocked against yours. Your hand went to Dabi’s face, thumb caressing the metal staples in his skin. And in that moment, as he shivered under your touch, all you wanted to do was climb the tallest building and watch from above as the world burned with him at your side.

#dabi x reader #mha dabi #dabi my hero academia #my hero fanfic #mha #mha fanfic #dabi lov #anime #boku no hero headcanons #boku no hiro academia #league of villians x reader #mha fics #ivonnes imagine

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ready-to-obeyme · 5 years ago

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[OM!] Demon Brothers + Hobbies 🏊

Lucifer

what free time

when he does somehow peel himself off of work, he enjoys ballroom dancing

i can just imagine him putting on a vinyl song, holding up his arms and doing the steps to the dance (1, 2, 3... 1, 2, 3) and god forbid someone tries to come in during this time because he’d be too embarrassed to be lenient on their punishment

i imagine he’s super into learning other couple dances too like tango and salsa, so when you get together with him count on being his partner!

i bet he also loves teaching other people things-- like genuinely, considering he is the oldest of the seven (his brothers just test him LOL)

incredibly patient when showing you the steps, taking pride in your improvement and growing warm at the thought of you being able to dance with him at the next chance you get

and his weakness???? online shopping on akuzon

which, when you find out, makes him extremely embarrassed and depending on whether you have the same past time-- you may or may not buy everything on akuzon

on his home screen interaction dialogue, he says something along the lines of “Akuzon is too convenient... it’s easy to buy a lot of things” while blushing

so I’m thinking sometimes when he does take a breather from his workload, he scrolls on akuzon just browsing for things because it’s quick

and ends up putting like 5 things into the cart that he doesn’t really need

doesn’t always follow through and buy everything, but he definitely has moments where he impulse buys and it’s gone to bite him in the butt when packages arrive in droves and his brothers are like ??? why are there so many things

Mammon

loves music-- both listening and making it!

likes making his own mixtapes and playlists

and when he gets to share it with you, he’s so nervous; but the giddy happiness he feels when you tell him that it’s good is SO worth the wait and time he puts into his music

he’d be happy just having his mixtapes and music to himself but being able to share it with someone makes it a lot sweeter

definitely makes playlists for and about you because sometimes the feelings he can’t put into words he can tell you through music

idk if he has a recording studio in his room, but i think it’d be pretty fitting if there was

probably gets into composing his music, rapping mayhaps??

at some point likes to DJ as well, though he’s not too good as it rn, but he definitely loooooves playing with the sound effects and tracks

all of these things are him being able to express himself-- put a twist on something that already exists or creating something on his own

it gives him a sense of freedom: to express himself and to do whatever he wants as he pleases

pretty well-rounded when it comes to playing instruments

when he puts his mind to it, he can probably learn anything

most likely already knows how to play the guitar and the drums

has a pretty good voice too tbh

Leviathan

swimming!!

he may be a shut-in, but ya boy has ocean decor, can control sea creatures, so it’s only natural he can swim and swim well

doesn’t do it as often since he prefers watching anime/playing games loads more, but he it’s definitely something he enjoys since it feels like his natural place to be

considering his dream is to be a professional gamer, it’s not far off to say that he finds it his hobby to start off small and be a youtuber, probably posting reviews of games he’s played or even writing out walk-throughs online

actually loves going to concerts and cons

if he was a fan of hatsune miku you BET he’d want to go to her first live concert with her life-sized hologram, waving the glowsticks in unison with the crowd

would definitely go all four days of Anime Expo where he would be SO happy surrounded by people who can love the same things he does with the same passion

loves creating cosplay to go to these cons by hand; impeccable detail and intense dedication into the craft that shows his love for whatever he’s making

kinda shy about wearing it, but if you’re down to wear any of his costumes, he’d absolutely die happy

it’s just too much love for him to handle in one sitting

and ofc, hobbies include board games, games, DND, all those!!

Satan

asides from reading, loves traveling when he can whenever he can

he invites you out to places because he enjoys discovering new things and experiencing new things and traveling is the perfect way to do all of that all the time

he’d enjoy hiking too-- on trails, through the wilderness, among the wild; just give him a backpack, an explorers hat, maybe a walking stick (just like the ones in the movies) and he’s on his way!

loves going hiking with you because he likes the way your face lights up at new scenery or the wonders of the world

likes that he can share this enjoyment and excitement of discovery with you because it feels like he’s sharing a little bit of himself too

indoor activity is snuggling in the covers and having movie marathons! and now that he has you and all your movies on DVD (lol) he can now enjoy so much more things

and when he finds out about Netflix, he is NOT sleeping for DAYS

“Satan... did you sleep last night?”

“couldn’t. the new season of How to Get Away with Murder came out.”

SLAM POETRY

doesn’t think he’s very good, but definitely likes writing down in his journal and even some scattered words that form a bit of poetry sometimes

really really shy about sharing it, but if you coax him a little, he’d be willing to show you (though you’ll have a hard time convincing him to show you poetry he wrote about you)

people have said, and I agree, cat cafe is definitely something he’d seek out and enjoy; literal dream come true

a house of cats that lucifer can’t ban him from LMAO

Asmodeus

has a very creative mind and deft hands meant for craft (among other things ahem)

as a fashionable person and a trendsetter, he’d love making his own jewelry and clothes, picking out the beads and metalware for the earrings or bracelets and feeling out the cloth and stitches for his outfits

if levi IS into making cosplay, it’d be such a nice way for them to bond together since Levi is pretty good with picking out material too

i like to imagine he enjoys making jewelry for his brothers too:

a stud earring for mammon, maybe convincing him to explore other options and wear other jewelry too

giving his brothers the options of clip on earrings if they wanted to try something temporary, gives satan a golden bracelet, lucifer a silver ring etc

suuuuuper supportive of you if you wanted any type of piercings and would absolutely love it if you wore his jewelry

god he would bedazzle you in all his jewelry and clothes if he could

another hobby is doing yoga!!

good for the body and soul uwu

definitely gives a good reason for any of his flexibility, or maybe it’s because he’s naturally flexible that yoga is calming for him

also loves to invite you to do yoga with him

you’d definitely get a bit steamy doing certain positions with him, but MOST of the time, he does encourage you to stretch, relax, and strengthen your body

Beelzebub

so athletic he could probably play every sport

i agree with the masses: he’d DEFINITELY be good at hockey

basketball too (just imagine Kagami from Kuroko no Basuke)

you know what they say about big hands

big, strong hands, good for crafting that involves a little more strength, but considering he’s a pretty tender and patient guy, is great at sculpting with clay, which extends to pottery as well

just imagine him sitting near a kiln, spinning the clay and using his hands to shape the curve and notches of a pot

considering how many plates and bowls he’s probably eaten, it makes for a good way to replace them HAHA

good at crafting with glass too considering it requires steady hands and strength to spin glass evenly

enjoys a lot of arts and crafts and loves giving them as gifts, especially if they’re made from his own hands

one of the main reasons why he started and likes doing these as a hobby actually

adores the look on you face when you created a glass terrarium for your plants or created glass ornaments dyed with your favorite colors

would definitely be the type of person to put his hands on yours as he teaches you how to shape the clay and have plenty of fun with you watching you try to make glass ornaments with or without success

Belphegor

during his waking hours, he loves to study the stars

loved to watch them in the human world, but without a night sky, he’s content with looking up for constellations in books from the library

if you buy him the cute lamp that lights stars onto the ceiling, he’ll find you so endearing because he’d enjoy lying in bed with you and just looking up at the lights and being in each other’s arms-- imagining the day he gets to do this with you for real, on a picnic blanket, looking up at the moon and stars

i imagine he’d like to doodle too

i say MAINLY doodles because they’re easier like drawing chibis or whatever thinks is amusing and lowkey keeps him awake (though Lucifer doesn’t like it when he draws on the desks)

does sometimes go all out and draw amazingly well, whenever the mood strikes him

when you ask him, he jokingly says you’re his muse; but honestly wouldn’t put it past him to have drawn a portrait of you, awake or asleep, at some point

surprisingly good at sewing-- or at the very least mending rips and tears

i feel like beel has a lot of ripped shirts (...from being, yknow, ripped) so he’s gotten pretty good at simple stitches, which eventually evolved into something more

didn’t start off as a hobby but he did eventually find it soothing to sew and embroider

levi and asmodeus adore his skills and he grumbles, but doesn’t ever say ‘no’ to them when they ask for his help

#obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #shall we date? obey me!

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keiths3dart · 3 years ago

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Max in The Black Lodge: a Life is Strange / Twin Peaks Crossover.

Part 3.

The thing most casual viewers don't realise about Chloe Price is just how vulnerable she is. For years she's projected this rebellious, 'Hella Gay, Fuck You’ attitude. Drink, drugs, sex, familial discord, flunking school, limited social circle, Chloe embraced the lot. Every self destructive impulse leapt upon with gusto.

It was all a front, Chloe's big secret was the fact that she's a sweet, funny, loving, and decent girl living to be loved. Whose father was taken from her. Whose best friend moved away and indeed moved on. Whose first love cheated on her (and with a man of all things!), then left. Who basically circled the emotional wagons and held the world at bay with a snarl and a defiant middle finger. Her demeanour, borne of feelings of abandonment and loneliness becoming a self fulfilling and self sustaining state of permanent friction and conflict in her life.

Well that was until Max came back into it. Until Max saved it. Numerous times. At a horrendous hidden psychological cost Max had still to face the bill for. Until Max peeled back the layers of hurt Chloe had padded her bruised heart with, letting the real Chloe shine back through, something Chloe had never allowed to happen, not since Rachel. Maybe not even with Rachel, maybe she'd even played up those traits since it seemed to be received positively by the volatile blonde.

And now Chloe finds herself in a remote woodland clearing looking down at Max's shoulder bag, abandoned on the ground next to the final forlorn dying embers of a small campfire.

She knows exactly how it feels.

Chloe was drained of everything, she felt like an empty shell just standing there in the clearing, unable to think. Her every fibre felt like it was plummeting into an infinitely dark abyss, dragging her thoughts with her.

Max had gone again. The love she had let back into her heart felt like it had been torn straight out of her chest. She felt so, just So. Fucking. Alone. Again.

As Chloe stood in the clearing trembling in dismay, Deputy Bobby Briggs scouted around the fringes of the clearing, looking for any signs of where Max had exited the clearing and what direction she had gone. His companion, the big Nez-Pence tribesman Deputy Hawk was poking about in the fire. His weathered face was grave.

Hawk was concerned. He knew this clearing. This place was known in his tribal legend, this had been the destination Agent Dale Cooper uncovered in his investigations into the greater mysteries unearthed by the Laura Palmer case. Cooper had disappeared at this very spot and had later returned. Different. Then, abruptly, he had left and no-one knew where. Even his superiors at the FBI had no idea. They'd been in Twin Peaks several years ago asking questions about Cooper, Gordon Cole and the other one, that insufferable little shit Albert Rosenthal.

Hawk looked at his partner with sadness. Poor Bobby, his father Major Briggs had disappeared too a few years later. Again on this very spot. Bobby continued to comb the perimeter but Hawk knew he would not find an exit trail. The darkening shadow on his heart told him that Max too had departed this earth for… The Other Place. Whatever the hell that was. The question was, would Max return like Cooper had? Or would her friend Chloe have to live with the loss and uncertainty of Max remaining missing. Hawk had seen how it had affected Bobby, and Bobby had not had the best of relations with his father. Hawk looked to Chloe now, his experienced eye could see she was on the verge of emotional collapse. Perhaps she too felt that sinking dread that seeped from the very ground of this supernatural place.

This was going to be a difficult conversation. Hawk knew he needed to talk to Chloe. Needed to say Something at least. But all his years of police experience couldn't provide more than a number of carefully nuanced platitudes he knew Chloe would see through in a second. Then go in to complete meltdown.

What could he do though? The truth of the matter, absolutely preposterous though it seemed was: that her friend Max had been taken from this place to, some other world/reality/dimension by persons/beings unknown for the purposes of fuck only knows and may / may not return at some undisclosed point in the future and may / may not be a barking mad murderous psychopath when they do.

“Fuck that” thought Hawk and Opted instead to use the hollow platitudes from the Crisis Response Management course Harry had sent him on when he made Deputy Chief.

“Chloe…” he began before he sensed something. A change in the air like static electricity or…

The whole of space and time exploded at once, spinning off in an infinite number of directions at once, the whole of creation in one spiralling maelstrom of light, sound, and sensation. Right in front of deputy Hawk.

But it was the sudden knee to the face that took the big man down.

Max was feeling dreamy, she'd lost herself in the soporific rhythm of the gentle shuffle beat for a moment. Or had it been hours?

This thought brought Max back to her senses. Her environment had been acting on her like a drug, lowering her alertness, subtly sedating her mind.

“That Food-Eater Jefferson must love it in here” Max thought venomously.

Almost on cue, like he'd been summoned by the very thought of his name, the head of Mark Jefferson turned to face Max.

“OLLEH XAM!” he said in that eerie style the inhabitants of this room used.

Max felt like recoiling from that gaze. Bad memories. But Max had grown to be made of sterner stuff. She would NOT let that scumbag have power over her. So she held the gaze, pouring all of her rage and loathing into that gaze. A gaze that would have reduced Chloe to ashes, would have sent Chuck Norris fleeing in panic to the florist to get something to apologize with, fell in vain upon the impassive face of Mark Jefferson as he now began to rise from his seat.

“I DLUOC ERUTPAC UOY NI A TNEMOM” he intoned, framing Max with his hands, like an imaginary camera.

Max had heard this particular speech before, and she began to edge away from Jefferson and the little man who now sat next to him, watching the whole exchange with amusement.

Suddenly the air was rend by a piercing scream. Max span round to see Rachel Amber, leaning forward in her chair, her face contorted in rage letting out this ungodly screech.

It stopped Mark Jefferson in his tracks.

“ON! OUY T’NOD TEG OT EVAH REH.” Rachel's voice sounded harsh and bitter and Max watched on as Rachel thrust forward her right hand towards a suddenly terrified Jefferson.

“”ESAELP, ON” he whined.

“ERIF! KLAW HTIW EM!” Rachel spat, as Jefferson, chair and all was consumed by a pillar of fire.

The little Man began to laugh and clap his hands again.

That was it for Max. Wherever she was, it was time to leave. And Rachel was coming with her.

“Rachel, let's get out of here” she said, grabbing Rachel by the arm.

Rachel looked up at her uncertainly.

“EREHT SI ON YAW TUO” the little man said solemnly.

“Mm m Max?” It was Rachel. Her voice hesitant but normal.

“Come on, we need to get back to Chloe” Max urged, pulling the bewildered blonde to her feet.

“Chloe? Yes. Chloe. Must get back to Chloe” Rachel mumbled, still appearing dazed and lost. Like someone abruptly woken from a very deep sleep.

“EREHT SI ON YAW TUO” the little man repeated. He looked to the two girls, a look of almost pity in his big eyes. “M’I YRROS”.

But still they ran. Through red draped, tile floored corridor after red draped, tile floored corridor. Every single one the same, every single one emerging back into the same room. The little man still sat. Watching on sadly.

Eventually Max collapsed to her knees in defeat. The little man was right. There was no way out. She was stuck here. Forever. Never to see her Chloe again. She wished she'd never come to this place. She'd managed to find Rachel only to share her fate. She wished she'd never… A desperate idea came to Max, she'd kept items with her when she'd rewound before, would it work with a human being? Was there any other option?

“Rachel, hold me tight and don't let go”.

“Jesus Max, is now the time?”

“You know what I mean” Max said, grabbing Rachel around the waist. “Now to rewind as far as possible, and please God get us both back to the woods and Chloe" Max thought as she reached forward to channel her strange power.

Suddenly, the little man jumped up in alarm, his eyes wide with fear.

“T’NOD ESU TAHT EREH!!!” He cried almost hysterically but it was too late.

Max had never thought there could be pain like the pain she felt. Searing up her arm and into her chest. And her head, her head felt like molten metal was being poured into it. Max was almost delirious with pain, everything was a strobing kaleidoscope of colour, she could no longer see the red Room. She couldn't see when she was going and she couldn't stop. But she could feel the weight of Rachel clutching at her, until the moment it all went black. The moment Max couldn't feel Rachel anymore. The moment Max couldn't feel anything anymore. There was only the black.

And then not even that.

The sudden change in the air had brought Chloe back to her senses. She looked up just in time to see it. The thing she could never describe. The thing deputy Hawk would never forget.

And then the two bodies came, flung out of the light as though they'd been spat out like used chewing gum. Rachel Amber and Max Caulfield. Rachel's knee catching the poor deputy chief square in the face knocking him down. Rachel was awake and trying to get up, holding her knee in pain.

Max lay still in a crumpled pile, like a discarded marionette.

Chloe didn't know what to do. She was so shocked by a succession of things that had just happened she just stood there wide eyed with shock.

Deputy Briggs had been caught unsighted by the whole thing, having been scanning the ground for traces of footprints. Suddenly the ground was lit as bright as day and there was a sharp crack followed by some dull thuds. He span round, automatically drawing his service revolver.

Rachel hit the ground in a heap, her knee throbbing having struck something on the way down. She felt like hammered shit and could barely adapt to the gloom after so long in the Red Room. She could just make out the fuzzy outline of Max lying in front of her and made to crawl towards her.

Max lay in a foetal position, her breathing was shallow, her chest barely moving, eyes closed. She might almost be asleep.

Hawk raised himself up into a sitting position, the right side of his face beginning to swell after the impact with Rachel's knee but the reason Hawk's head was spinning was due to the intense visions he'd seen when the gateway between worlds opened in front of him.

Chloe could see Rachel leaning over Max and it galvanized her into action. She dropped to her knees beside her two friends, joining Rachel in checking on the inert Max.

“Max? Max?” Chloe quavered, gently shaking her to no avail.

“She's breathing” Rachel was able to confirm.

No response from Max, she remained unconscious though reassuringly still alive. Rachel rolled to her side and tried to clear her head. Her vision was still fuzzy.

Chloe knelt, Max's head cradled in her lap, gently stroking her face. Tears dropped from her cheek and splashed onto Max's face. Chloe wiped them away with concern

“Shit, sorry Max”.

Bobby had holstered his weapon and checked on Hawk, the big man seemed a bit shook up but otherwise ok. Now he had to take charge of the situation, it looked like one of the girls was hurt. They'd need to get back out of the woods quickly. Time was of the essence, and the hospital in Twin Peaks was a long hike and a bumpy ride away.

“We need to get her back to town” he said, placing a hand on Chloe's shoulder. “Are you ok? Can you walk?” He added towards Rachel.

Rachel simply nodded in affirmative and unsteadily began to get to her feet. Bobby moved to help Chloe with Max.

“No, leave her. I've got her” Chloe sobbed, recoiling from Bobby.

Deputy Hawk had made it to his feet and was on the radio to the sheriff. An ambulance had been summoned and would meet them at the road end.

Chloe lifted Max out of the nest of pine needles. She felt so light, so fragile. How could something so fundamentally central to her life feel so insubstantial in her arms?

And thus the procession made their way down from the Ghost wood. Bobby took the lead followed by the still woozy Hawk. Chloe came next with Max and Rachel Amber brought up the rear, her head rapidly clearing, now just feeling bone tired.

“Don't worry my love, everything is going to be fine” Chloe cooed to the unconscious Max.

Behind them, a strange flicker danced in the eyes of Rachel for a moment before it was gone.

#life is strange #chloe price #pricefield #lis #max caulfield #rachel amber #life is strange fanfiction #fanfic

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tipsydipsydo · 5 years ago

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Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Gender of the Reader: female

Word Count: 3.7k

Alternative Universe: CEO! AU

Rating: 18+

Genre: Smut!

Warnings: Sexual Language + a bit Dirty Talk; Dom-/Sub-Themes (Dom! Hoseok x Sub! Reader); Sadism; Masochism; Degradation; Oral (m); Deepthroating; Cum-Eating; Sextoys; Lingerie; Pet-Play (Collar + Leash); Bondage; Spreader-Bar; Exhibtionism/Voyeurism; Teasing + Edging; Begging; Praising; Orgasm Control; rough (!) unprotected vaginal Sex (please stay safe!); very light mentions of alcohol (one sentences)

A/N: Over the weekend I looked through my old writing folders and... I think I've found some little diamonds in there.

Honestly, I'm impressed by myself.

I've rewritten the perspective of this story here and added some little details but in general I translated the original.

I hope you'll enjoy my old work as much as I did it. 😈💜

By the way... I wrote this story with barely 15.

Let me know what do you think about this story~ 👀🙈

Sneak Peak: "Laying open, completely helpless and so vulnerable in front of him. Presented like a meal on a silver tablet. His meal, his prey. Your wolf is starving, licking his lips with an animalistic and devilish smile at the sight of your parted pussy lips. Revealing his most desired things, this swollen and sensitive clit and this pretty tiny pussyhole. Clenching around nothing, literally begging to get filled with his fat cock and stuffed up with his cum until it’s leaking out of his little sweet swan..."

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With a soft, barely audible click you open the door. A cold breeze welcomes you and caresses your body, giving you goosebumps. Slowly you step out of your bedroom and walk down the long corridor with well-considered steps.

The bright light of the full moon falls through the white, wide open double doors and guides your way. Your black heels clicking softly on the expensive parquet floor and the chains on the straps jingle seductively with every step, giving you self-confidence. Let you sound erotic and elegant without Hoseok even having seen you.

You pause within the frame of the double doors. Looking at the tall man, who’s standing at the huge panoramic window and looking down at Seoul. On the 20th floor you have a breathtaking view.

The moon is full and round, bathing everything in a soft, mystical light. The light breaks in Hoseok's dark hair and makes him look almost angelic. Even though you know he's the devil in an angel’s costume.

He doesn't turn around to you, waiting for you to come to him.

You look at him closely. The tailored suit fits perfectly around his muscular body. His body proportions are in perfect harmony, he’s a breathtaking attractive man. Add this to his height, it makes him look really intimidating. Sublime.

His face has sharp, masculine features. Controlled. He controls everything. He loves to possess power and to demonstrate it all too clearly. He never loses his temper or acts impulsively. When it comes to those sessions between you two, there are no actions leaded by emotions, only controlled and thoughtful activities. He knows behind every single one its meaning, why he does this.

His skin has a sensual and seductive honey-gold tone. In stark contrast, his eyes shine in a cool, almost black brown. You have never seen such a dark eye colour and maybe that’s it what attracts you to him.

This special, rare thing about him makes him incredibly attractive for you. It's like having a very rare diamond. It's the uniqueness of it that makes you want to own it. But in your case, it's the other way around. He owns you. And that's what makes you feel fulfilled.

Even though others may not see it that way, he gives you so much of himself. With it you not even mean the material things, he gives you so much of his love.

Yes, it’s love. His affection and loving torments, how he cares for you, the way he gives you commands and taking control. That is what fills you the most and it’s also the reason why you can give yourself completely to him. Hoseok takes your control and turns it into his own.

Others would panic if they were deprived of personal control. But if he takes it from you, then he will take care of you, so you can let yourself fall. Giving you more control than before. You trust him, he knows your limits and keeps to them strictly. He has control over everything and leaves nothing to luck or chance. That’s the reason why you trust him so much. He doesn’t act impulsively and rashly, he never crosses the boundaries.

This control, this power that he has and exercises on others is what fascinates you so much. You love this dominance in him, it gives you a sense of security and safety. He doesn’t make any mistakes, you can completely let yourself go with him. Finally you have found the person who fits you perfectly. He has this special power, dominance and control and what you want is to submit to him completely, to obey him.

Just the sight of him and this dominant aura around him excites you. You breathe out audibly and can hardly take your eyes off him. You know that you’re not undiscovered. Hoseok knows perfectly well that you are standing here, shamelessly staring at him. But he doesn't say anything, doesn't rebuke you, because he loves your awestruck, admiring gaze.

He knows exactly what kind of effect he has on you. He knows, no, he feels it in every fiber of his body how much you want to submit to him and beg him to give you any kind of relieve or satisfaction. His self-satisfied smile is already visible on his lips.

Your breath hitch, you shallow hard, your décolleté rises and falls quickly. Now you realize how hard your buds already are under the very fine tip of your negligee. The reason for this are these wild fantasies that are haunting you in your pretty head.

How you would love it to be tied to the bed again. Lying completely exposed under him, while he pours champagne over your breasts and letting it run over your stomach onto your until it collects in your navel. How much do you long for him to punish you when you are dying of lust and can't keep still...

Every warning bite on your nipples sent a wave of sweet pain through your body, causes that a lot more of your juice is flowing out of you. You can remember how you moaned as you writhed under him, completely exposed and helpless to face his punishments. You thought at first, he’d give you finally some relieve when he pushed the vibrator into your clenching hole. But still, he refused to let you cum...

His face was filled with pure satisfaction, he enjoyed hearing you beg... even dirty words left your otherwise shy mouth, out of pure desperation. That brought an amused smile on his lips.

Hoseok loves to demonstrate his power and influence, it amuses himself how quickly you've fallen for the devil. No wonder he keeps calling you "my defiled angel." But you are so aroused by his arrogance, his self-confidence and cockyness. There's nothing you can do about it. You've gone right into his trap. The big bad wolf has captured the innocent Swan. The dying swan. Blood, the dark red blood stains the snow-white, pure feathers, while the black wolf's canines around her throat.

"Turn the music on.” It’s the first thing that Hoseok say to you this night. His voice is deep and commanding, you obey his commands all too willingly.

You step quietly to the stereo and turn it on. His chosen CD must be already in the music player. Now the sounds of slow piano play and the dark, erotic voice of a woman fill the plain, unadorned room. White walls with light wooden beams, white leather couch and some fake fur blankets lie over the armrests of the furniture, which however look very real. A huge plasma TV dominates the room, together with some large boxes. On the right wall there is a huge bookshelf. Only filled with works in their original languages. Hoseok knows them all perfectly.

Your ears focus on the slow but stimulating song that comes quietly out of the speakers. Toxic. Involuntarily you have to think immediately of this korean man, who still looks unperturbed at the huge metropolis to his feet.

Too much time has passed, you made him wait, which he absolutely hates! You swallow nervously, at the sound of his voice you should have noticed it immediately! He sounded a little annoyed and waiting. Others would not have heard it, but you have already learned to hear that little difference. The emphasis of the words alone! God, how stupid and inattentive you are! Hoseok hates it when his counterpart doesn't concentrate completely on him and his wishes. Then he becomes very unpleasant and just his cold gaze punish you more than any spanks.

With a weak stomach and chewing nervously on your lower lip, you start moving and slowly walk towards him. The translucent chiffon hugs your naked thighs tenderly and the cool air on your uncovered womanhood shoots a stimulating tingle through your body. Under this almost completely transparent black negligee you’re wearing nothing.

Your face is adorned with a filigree venetian mask. It is made of black metal and the transparency of it gives you just little anonymity. At the ends it is adorned with dark green diamond particulas and and on the bridge of your nose sparkles an emerald diamond. At his request you wear this outfit.

Your breasts sways gently with every step, the lace fabric rubs against your hard nipples and let the hot ball in your abdomen grow bigger. The small lust balls swings a little in yourself, let hot shivers of lust running down your spine. The light swinging of the balls in your sextoy heats your desire up with every step, so that your arousal is already running down the insides of your thighs. Let the beguiling smell of femininity exude.

You have to bite your lower lip in order not to whimper out loudly and your hands turns into fists, you wish, you could touch yourself for some relief. You’re so unbelievable desperate, even you would call yourself pathetic. But without his own instructions, Hoseok wouldn't find this funny at all and would punish you without any mercy for your indiscipline.

"How can I serve you, Master?" you ask quietly, your head lowered submissively, after stopping a few meters behind your dom. At first, Hoseok doesn't react until he slowly turns around after two minutes. "Why did you wait so long, Y/N? Why were you late?" he asks in a calm, demure tone.

"I...I...", you start stuttering, looking for an excuse that doesn't sound as pathetic as the actual reason. That you were dreaming away and forgot the time. But Hoseok knows you and sees through your intentions immediately.

He steps towards you, threatening you and overtowering your small frame. His aura is suddenly freezing cold and even if you can't see his face, you know that you would only find cold anger and displeasure in it. How his jaw would be clench and his nostrils would be flaring as if he had actually problems to control himself. But his gaze is the most humiliating.

Cold, icy dark brown, almost black eyes. Showing only resentment and disappointment.

"Are you thinking about lying to me right now, Y/N?", he asks with a harsh and growling voice that has nothing in common with anything melodic anymore. You should have known never, really never lie to Mr. Jung Hoseok.

"Answer me!", he groan angrily and impatiently, assessing you like a hungry predator. As soon as you admit you wanted to lie to him, he will pounce on you and tear you apart. But that's what makes you hot, you like to play with fire, you like to test your limits with him, love the thrill and excitement of being punished again.

You’re so uncomfortable right in the moment, your gaze searches over shiny parquet floor, not daring to look up. You don't even know if you are allowed to. But this dangerous aura of Hoseok's dominance lets a little moan escape your throat. Lust takes over your body, taking every fiber of your whole being.

Finally you dare to look up carefully, but you doesn’t look him in the eye. "I-I'm sorry, M-Master..." you mumble inaudibly. A sigh comes from your husband, who shakes his head. The moonlight shimmers in his hair, reminding you a bit of the velvety fur of a black panther.

"...And I thought I reached you better. Why are you always so dreamy and inattentive? Is it that what you want? Do you long for punishments, my little swan?," he cooed as he approached you and grabbed your hair, pulling it not really gently back so you would look at him. His black eyes searching yours, looking inside you. He can read your mind you like an open book.

He sees all your desires, your desires for him. The desire to submit to him and to let the dirtiest things be done to you. It makes you hot, it makes you horny. Pure desire, lust and despair pulsates through your body. Sexual need, the longing for sex, naughty play sessions, punishment and redemption dominates your mind and body. A greedy fire of passive passion blazes hot inside you.

His gaze, which consumes everything of you, frees you with his eyes from the little bit of cloth, which you still carry on your body. Exposes and humiliates you. But you love to e under control of this dominant Korean man, following his will. The confirmation can be seen on your body, your arousal can almost be smelled.

You want to swallow, but your body trembles with excitement like aspen leaves and a thin layer of sweat lies on your skin. The tight-fitting choker collar with its many details and chains reminds you at this moment more of a dog collar... It turns out for a good reason.

A pant leaves your full lips and you look at him with eyes, veiled in lust. "Please punish me, Master! I-I want, I need to be punished for my stupidity! M-Make anything you want with me!" it bursts out of you, your voice trembles in lust. He begins to smile arrogantly and amusedly, releases your hair from his merciless grip and instead gently caresses your neck.

"Good girl...", he says tenderly, praises you for having realized that you deserve an appropriate punishment for your misconduct. Suddenly he pushes your hair on your left shoulder, to get to the clasp of the chocker. Then something very cold hits your warm neck, causing you to flinch. You look up confused and discover a black leather leash, that is attached to your choker. Hoseok encourages you with an uninterpretable smile and tug on the leash.

"Come, my little.", he commands and you follow him well-behaved. A wild tingling sensation takes over your body and you are so curious to know what he has planned for you. A lustful moaning escapes your mouth when you see where he is leading you.

To your pleasure room.

He opens the room quietly and you enjoy the smell that is still hanging in the air. Suede, lacquer and a little bit more of the sparkling sweetness of your past play sessions. The light is dimmed, gives the whole thing an erotic-sensual touch. Your relationship is a little different.

Of course, he punishes you with tender slaps and spanks, tortures you until you die of sweet pain that’s paired up with irrepressible lust, but with you everything is based more on the balance of power.

You enjoy being submissive, being given orders and being dominated. He loves to demonstrate his power to control you. It doesn't have to have anything to do with physical pain, it's simply about the principle of power play. It excites you to be led and humiliated by him. To see his proud and superior, but also lustful smile.

Your master goes to the restored, antique-looking wing chair with the mahogany wooden feet. He sits down in it and straightens up in the armchair almost threateningly. "On your knees," he says in a commanding tone, that is otherwise only found in the military and make an elegant gesture to you, to get down on your knees.

Your heart makes a jump, his commanding voice only makes your pussy lips and clitoris swell even more. What would you give to have him eating you out. What... what would he do it if you’re literally offering yourself to him? But you do what you are ordered to, kneeling down to his feet and waiting for that what comes next.

"And now... lick them off", the order comes from above and he holds out his shiny polished brown suede shoe. You falter... You have to lick his shoes...? Unsure you look up to him with an questioning look. A nod of encouragement is returns to you. You swallow before carefully taking his left foot in your hands and holding it to your lips.

This really makes you a bit uncomfortable and that's exactly why there is such a treacherous pull in your abdomen. Only more of your juice is flowing down your thigh. A little bit awkwardly you start to lick over the leather, getting over the time more and more eager and you end up enjoying it even in a precarious way. The bitter taste of material is new for you, but with shy looks you squint at Hoseok, who obviously enjoys the sight. Lust seizes your body anew and you surrender completely to your humiliating punishment.

He grabs a handful of your hair and pulls you up a little. Between his legs, to his crotch. You look at him excitedly and this animal lust in his dark eyes says more than every word.

Eagerly you open his trousers and pull down the waistband of his black shorts. His rock-hard cock jumps towards you and almost unrestrainedly you give yourself to his unspoken command. Licking all over this gorgeous shaft, massaging his balls and inhaling this musky scent of his groins. Pulling the foreskin back from his tip to give sweet kitten licks on his exposed crown.

Hoseok's lustful look lies heavy on you, until he puts a hand on the back of your head and decides for himself what you do or don't do. He fucks your mouth in a controlled manner, guides your head and you enjoy the salty taste of his presumably on your nimble tongue. A muffled groan rises up Hoseok's throat before his cum runs down your throat. Willingly you swallow everything, licking lasciviously over your lips and give him a seductive look. You love that smug look on his face.

"Such a good little swan you are for me...," he rewards you, gets up an lead you to the finally giant king-size bed, which is covered in black silk.

He ties your leath tightly to the metal crossbars on the headboard so that you can hardly move. Exactly this fact causes a wave of electrifying lust flickers through you and you whimper willingly as you have to pull your knees up to your chest, as he ties your wrists with red rope to your ankles and attaches a spreader bar between your knees.

He smiles smugly at you, your whole body is almost completely consumed by the pleasure you feel in being so exposed to him. His hand tenderly caresses your sweaty thigh and his fingertips play with your swollen clitoris. Then he clears his throat.

"My little swan... You have mastered your punishment so well, now you may have the right to choose a reward... what would it be?" he asked tenderly and his dark lustblown pupils look into yours. You tremble under his haunting gaze, your body soon burns from the inside out, such heat rages within you. The wish is already on your tongue, but your shame is still too big to say it out loud.

"What do you wish, my beautiful swan?," Hoseok encouraged you with his dark, erotic voice and a... kinda diabolical smile.

"Fuck me, Master! P-Please! I-I want you to stretch my tiny pussy open with your hard cock, I want you to be merciless, ruin me like you desire and fill me up with your thick cum!", you almost scream out with dark red cheeks. In that moment, he had pulled the lustballs out of you, with only one single tug.

You breath quickly, panting almost like a dog bitch in heat. Laying open, completely helpless and so vulnerable in front of him. Presented like a meal on a silver tablet. His meal, his prey. Your wolf is starving, licking his lips with an aminalistic and devilish smile at the sight of your parted pussy lips. Revealing his most desired things, this swollen and sensitive clit and this pretty tiny pussyhole. Clenching around nothing, literally begging to get filled with his fat cock and stuffed up with his cum until it’s leaking out of his little sweet swan.

Without any warning Hoseok sinks mercilessly and deeply into you, didn’t let you adjust to his long and girthy length. The rhythm is hard and fast. It’s exactly what you were begging for. Lust has taken over your mind and there was no room for shame. Hoseok pants heavily and bury himself deeper and deeper into you, reaching your cervix what let you cry out in pain and pleasure. You hardly know how to handle your lust, it feels like as if everything is already too much but still not enough to pleasure the greedy desire in your body. He fucks you so good, you’re overflowing with juices.

Your pussy makes lewd squelching sounds, these noise turns you on beyond belief and let your desperate cunt literally dripping onto the sheets. The smell of primal, animalistic and uninhibited sex is hanging heavily in the air. Hoseok's white dress shirt gets sweat stains and this sight, this feeling of his pure lust makes you float.

You’re getting closer and closer in no time. The fact of getting brutally used only for Hoseok’s own pleasure let your own lust increase, building it higher and higher into the sky. The thought alone to know, that he’ll take you this night definitely to the point of pure exhaustion gets you high. Yes, maybe you are a nymphomaniac, but at this moment you want nothing more than to get fucked and breeded by Hoseok like the cockslut you truly are.

Your body burns, is ablaze with light and finally... finally that moment comes when all that pent-up lust bursts out of you. Your body trembles and you scream, whimpering out the lust of your orgasm. The world explodes before your inner eye in the most beautiful colors.

Only a few minutes later, Hoseok is already sitting in front of you again, smiling devilishly and watching his cum slowly dripping out of you.

The night has just begun.

Yes, you are the fallen angel who has fallen to the devil.

You are the white swan who fell victim to the black wolf.

#tipsydipsydo #bts writing #btswritersnet #bangtanhq #hopeworldnet #hyungsmutsociety #dom! hoseok #bts smut #tipsy was always kinky af #bts x reader #kinky since birth xD #kpop smut #hoseok smut #ceo hoseok #hoseok x reader #kinky tipsy

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hansoulo · 5 years ago

Text

i’ll write a hymn again; i’ll be your woman

Pairing: Steve Murphy/!Reader

Warnings: angst (duh), canon-typical mentions of violence and blood, softness, cursing, etc etc again it’s literally just this scene from s2 ep4 so make of that what you will

Word Count: around 1.4k

A/N: title is from this song. not very fitting tone-wise but the lyrics do b hittin home. yeehaw 🤠

The door opens, groaning on its rusted hinges before it’s interrupted by footsteps. You turn at the sound, seeing familiar shoulders and cheekbones - rounded edges that are still sharp to the touch backlit by the outside traffic. It’s late. Midnight, maybe. He smells like whiskey and a little like paper, like ink and manila folders and other dry government things that all spell out danger. His eyes are rimmed and swollen lilac, an exhaustion that seems to seep through him from the inside until it cracks and shows on his face in a way that never seems to settle. You’re curled on the couch with your knees tucked into your side, almost asleep but not quite. You were waiting for the phone to ring.

“Hey,” you call out.

Steve’s voice is low, graveled and drawling something hollow. “Hey, sweetheart.” He shuts the door with a soft click and you can hear the sound of keys hitting the coffee table, metallic and slightly off-key. “I’m sorry about this honey, I meant to call it’s just-”

“Work,” you answer for him with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I get it.”

Steve rakes his hand through his hair, already tousled and gripped through as evidence of frustration and stress and who knows what else before he made it back here. Back to you.

The scrape of his facial hair brushes against your cheek when he leans over the back of the sofa, his palms coming to rest at your shoulders as he kisses the shell of your ear. “I missed you,” he says, his exhales tickling and sending a small wave of goosebumps across your arms. You reach a hand to the nape of his neck, guiding him down until your lips meet. It’s brief and it’s soft, melancholy because that’s the only thing he can give right now but you don’t mind. It’s enough.

You hear Steve’s footsteps drag over hardwood as he sits down by the kitchen table, making your way off the couch in search of a drink of water.

You watch through the glass as you lift it to your lips - his reflection warped and melting wax underneath the faint yellow of the living room lamp. Everything is muted, tamped down by the night air and the low buzzing of late-summer insects outside your window.

It’s compact, slow but still tense and drawn tight almost to snapping and you want to say something but have no idea what. You don’t want to fight again. To turn away when he climbs next to you in bed, to waste every waning day as the sag of his shoulders sets into permanence. It kills you, takes little pieces every time he leaves, never promising he’ll come back because you both know it might not be true. Better to have low expectations, you suppose. Or none at all. It’s not fair to him, though. Steve’s trying, he really is - and if it kills you then what’s it doing to him? You can’t imagine. You’re not sure if you want to.

The clink of your glass against the sink bottom breaks up the silence, jarring even though you tried to be gentle about it. Steve looks… not good. Not bad - he could never look bad - but… not good. He’s been better. You both have.

Your wedding ring catches in the kitchen lights when you step towards him, bouncing back a soft gold and memories of times that weren’t constantly bubbling over, teetering on the edge of something catastrophic. It was a nice wedding. He proposed on your two-year anniversary, in the tacky little bar where you first met. You said yes right before a man threw up his third beer, which made your friends laugh and your mother - on the phone the next morning - horrified. You were both young, impulsive and impatient, so the wedding was held three months later on his uncle’s beach, the night colored with sand between your bare toes (no heels, because duh) and memories of Steve’s great-aunt Myrna flirting with the MC. Back when things were light, impossibly easy and fogged over with all the things you could become.

What had you become?

“Steve,” you call out, your voice notching in your larynx and coming out tremulous, quivering slightly on the ending note like the slow drag of a violin string. You stand in front of him, the side of your hip digging a little bit into the edge of the table as you shift your weight from foot to foot.

There’s only a few inches between your bodies but it feels like miles, endless and tunneling until you’re choked with all the chipping rubble that’s being hacked at - by his job, by the pistol still tucked in the waistband of his pants and the way he never seems to come back to you even when he’s right there. Your eyes say what your mouth can’t bring itself to shape. Come back to me. Please.

You speak again when he remains quiet, staring off to the side of your figure like he can’t bring himself to look you in the face lest something splinters. “Are you okay?”

It’s a stupid question, really, because of course he’s not fucking okay but you ask it anyway, just wanting the balm of empty assurances and the knowledge that he still cares enough about you to try. You know he cares about you, know he loves you because he whispers the words until you’re dizzy, memorizing the way they sound for when he isn’t around to speak them himself. You know he loves you. You know you love him. You just don’t know if that’s enough.

Steve nods, pursing his lips and trying to give you something to grasp onto before the nod turns into a shake and a noise escapes his throat, choked and muffled. It sounds like a sob.

Something inside him is split open, something raw and beating a scar-tissue glossy red that has him falling forward and nosing his face into your shirt until you can feel his breath against your stomach. You try to soothe him, carding your fingers through his hair and whispering quiet nothings as arms wrap around your sides and pull you closer - tight and strong and familiar. The ridges of his watch dig into your back but you don’t really care, only registering the way you can feel tears dampen the fabric of your top and the way his breathing hitches.

You want to ask what happened, what he saw or did or didn’t do but that’s not what needs to be said. Later, maybe.

He lifts his head after a few minutes, resting his chin on your sternum as your thumbs come up to smooth over the creases drawn on his face. Hands, smaller and softer that haven’t killed but are weighed down by the witnessing of it, stroke across the ridge of his brow, the sloping contours of his face until they’re no longer drawn tight and dragged heavy. Steve leans into your touch, his skin still hot and thrumming with forced alertness and too many cups of watered-down coffee. There are tracks running down his cheeks, rivulets of hot salt that map across his jaw and pool into the hollow of his clavicle, wet and shining against skin you’ve grown to know like it’s your own. Your vision blurs over, desperation aching and beating against the bones of your ribs until they feel liable to break.

You lower your head, ghosting your lips across his hair until the arms around your waist go slack and heavy, still seeping warmth through your shirt when Steve lifts his mouth to meet yours.

He drinks you up like a man dying of thirst, parched for softness and anything that isn’t the sound of screaming - that isn’t the last ragged gasp before a man gives up his ghost to heaven or hell or whatever numb thing comes after. He’ll let you swallow the hurt and the pain until the shell casings swimming behind his eyelids flicker out, momentarily quelled underneath the feeling of your mouth and the tenderness of your touch. He’ll try to love you, here, now, at a kitchen table in an apartment that’s not home and probably won’t ever be but it’s okay.

You’ll be okay.

#ahahahahahahahahahha i'm FINE #steve murphy #steve murphy x reader #steve murphy oneshot #boyd holbrook #boyd holbrook fanfiction #narcos #narcos tv show #narcos fanfiction #steve murphy/reader

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girlofmanyfandoms · 4 years ago

Note

keefex, romantic or platonic

I have no idea if this was what you were looking for, but:

Ok, so it really begins when one day, Fitz is busy studying for midterms

And Keefe has photographic memory, so he’s like “Yeah, pass”

So obviously Soph is busy studying as well, and those are his two go-to’s

So he decides to check on Dex, since they haven’t chatted in a while

He gets very excited at this idea, but he doesn’t know w h y

And his father wouldn’t approve of him having to go through Mysterium, so that’s a plus

So he knocks on the door and finds that it’s open

And it’s just utter chaos

There’s the sound of flames, bubbling, and then a mini explosion

Kesler and Dex emerge from the back room covered in some bubbling purple substance

With eye protection ofc, but their hair and clothes are a mess

Bex slides down the swirly railing squealing, Lex and Rex running after her

They knock down a vase, and Juline sighs as she sweeps up the remains

She looks up to see Keefe and flushes with embarrassment

*cue her scolding Kesler and Dex and telling them to clean themselves up*

They laugh at this, but oblige

Juline then asks if he came there for elixirs

He says no, that he wanted to hang out with Dex and maybe study for midterms

She tells him to wait in Dex’s room so he can clean up, then offers to makes snacks, which he accepts

(She then runs after the triplets to distract them with snow people, but we don’t talk about that)

So Keefe is chilling in Dex’s room when something shiny catches his eye

It’s a gold box, resting on a shelf

And your boy’s impulsivity kicks in, he H A S to know what’s up with this box

So he gets up to look at it, and that’s when he finally takes a moment to see just how many inventions Dex had created

There’s a few crates on the floor below the shelves of just blueprints and sketches for different prototypes

He starts sifting through them when Dex comes into the room

“What are you doing?”

*panics* “What are YOU doing?”

Keefe then realizes part of Dex’s hair is dyed purple from whatever substance exploded

“hA, you’re a grape”

*eye rolling* “Hilarious”

Keefe tells him that he should approach the Council with some of his inventions, or at the very least, Lady Iskra

Dex winces, and reminds him of how the ability restrictor went

“This is different,” Keefe insists. “The least you can do is tell your Technopathy mentor.”

Dex says some stuff that reveals his self-doubt, feelings of not having a purpose, shame, loneliness, etc.

And Keefe is like ??? Not a vibe

So he hugs Dex tightly and tells him how much he means to him

Dex squeaks and blushes a bit

He then has a moment of “why am I blushing, this is just my friend being supportive. Right?”

Keefe realizes he’s been holding onto him for a while and slowly pulls away

To change the subject, he makes Dex show him each and every blueprint and machine he’s made

This easily goes into the evening, and Keefe decides he’ll sleep over

He helps Dex narrow it down to 10 inventions that he’ll show Lady Iskra next class

Dex then asks if he wants to study for midterms

To which Keefe responds with “No studying, we die like warriors!”

And Dex is already pretty much set, so he suggests they play a human game, any game that Sophie got for him

Keefe searches through the box of games and his eyes land on Twister

He skims the description and is dead set on playing it

He shoves it in Dex’s face

And Dex, having the knowledge of the types of tension that can arise refuses profusely, turning very red

“Are you a tomato or a grape? You have to choose.”

Dex blushes even more, and pushes the game away

“No,” Dex repeats.

“C’mon Dexinator. Please?”

Dex chances a glance at his friend, who is making puppy eyes, and his heart melts

The only thing going through his head is ‘Why is he so cute?’

Dex shakes his head violently, he’s not supposed to think like that. This is his FRIEND. Nothing more

But Keefe has moved closer, bringing his pleas and pouts with him

Dex realizes how close they are and time kinda slows

His brain feels like mush and he gets butterflies in his stomach

He has this moment where he realizes “this is the same thing I thought I felt for Sophie”

And so he gets really confused with his labels. Was he gay, but misplacing his feelings? Was he bi? Was he pan?

Keefe gave no time for him to think about this, and using his height to his advantage, draped himself over Dex

“Come oooonnnn, let’s play Twisterrrrrr”

Dex shoves him off playfully. If this is how he feels, he might as well spare his poor heart another panic attack from their proximity

“Fine, one round.”

“YES! Point for the Keefester!”

So they set up the mat in the room and take turns spinning the wheel

Keefe always takes the spot farthest from him, just to create a challenge

5 minutes in and Keefe is in a bridge position

A few moves later and Dex is in a push-up position directly over him

Keefe is now experiencing peak *gay panic*

So to attempt to break the tension, he says, “Gonna give me twenty?”

“Twenty kisses”

Dex did NOT mean to say that out loud and internally curses himself

“Well, I guess we better start right away”

Dex hesitates, but moves closer

And then there’s a knock on the door

Keefe scrambles out from under him, kicks the Twister mat under the bed, and rests against the wall casually in time for Juline to enter

“I made rifflepuffs!”

“Thanks, mom, can you leave them on the nightstand?”

She does, and once she leaves, Dex makes sure to lock the door

He facepalms before dropping face first onto his bed and letting out a scream into his pillow

Keefe gets up and sits next to him, rubbing his back

“I can sleep on the couch downstairs if you want.”

“No, you can sleep with me”

Realizing what that implied, Dex leaped up and corrected himself

“I meant in the same bed! Like next to each other, sleeping!”

Keefe assures him that he knew what he meant, laughing

“How does Saturday at 6 work for you? The bakery in Atlantis?”

Dex is confused. Keefe actually likes him, too?

“It’s a date”

They continue to hang out, but they recline on each other more casually, trying to see what the other person was comfortable with

Soon enough, it’s dark out, and they pull the covers over themselves

“You know about those twenty kisses...”

“KeEfE-”

Imma do the platonic ones in a bit, my creativity returns from vacation soon

#keefe sencen #dex dizznee #keefex #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #my asks

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thecleverdame · 5 years ago

Text

The Oath - 12

Parings: Dark!Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Story Master List

Summary: After an unsuccessful escape attempt, the reader finds herself taken as a spoil of war. She ends up in the bed of a ruthless Alpha, the son of John Winchester, leader of the kingdom of Gilead. She struggles to conceal her true identity and navigate a society where being an Omega means nothing more than serving at the pleasure of powerful men.

Warnings: non-con, sexual assault, rape, attempted suicide, sexual slavery, branding, torture, ownership, voyeurism, anal play, smut, violence, and murder.

Sam is dark in this story. If any of the warnings are triggers for you, I would suggest skipping this one. Please read and heed all the warnings.

Beta: ilikaicalie

Support my Patreon and get access to exclusive stories. CLICK HERE

Sam can feel you watching him.

Since waking up from the dead those years ago all of his senses have been heightened. He can anticipate situations before they develop, read the expression on a man’s face to deduce if he’s lying. But this is something else. A dormant ability hidden in his Alpha that’s responding to the bond developing between you. He can feel it growing every day. He knows when you are near or far, like now as you watch him riding away on his horse.

Despite the complications of being an Omega, you’ve proved to be less work than he initially anticipated. Yes, you’re often scared and appear lonely. But any Omega he came across would be all of those things and more. He sees your sadness, but you manage to not let it affect your ability to satisfy him so he honestly doesn’t care. It’s well worth the price to have you in his bed at night, rubbing your sweet scent over his skin and sucking his cock like you’re starving for it.

You need him more every day and that’s the way he prefers to keep it. If anything happened to you, it’s unlikely he would ever find a match as well suited. Most Alphas never find an Omega that responds so favorably.

Hell, in this world many Alphas never find an Omega at all.

“You don’t need to stay. I’ve recovered.” Sam affirms to Dean what they both already know.

“I’m not here for you. I’m here because being on my own is mind-numbing. The men are unbearable and this new Omega might be the death of me. Plus dad is a week away, ten days at most. I’m dreading rejoining the troops.”

“It’s true. The more time we spend away from him, the harder the reunion.”

“Used to be weeks, then months. How long has it been this time?” Dean asks.

“Eighteen months since I’ve seen him last,” Sam confirms. “Almost the same for you if I remember correctly.”

“I’m not sure. At least a year. I don’t mind him as much as you.”

Sam and John have a widening rift that’s been growing since Sam was a child. As soon as Sam was old enough to say the word ‘no’ the disobedience began. After Sam’s change to the man he is now, Dean thought perhaps they would grow closer. Sam was rapidly becoming just as ruthless as his father. But then came the day Sam surpassed John in nearly every regard.

Dean knows his brother keeps his actions in check. If he acted on his impulses, a monster would be unleashed. But Sam maintains a semblance of humanity and their father simply sees it as an opportunity. To have someone as smart and capable as Sam who is also willing to give merciless orders and gets his hands dirty when necessary is invaluable.

“A few of dad’s men are already here,” Sam confirms.

Two of John’s scouts arrived this morning. Now that they’ve confirmed safe passage, they’ll ride back for the largest garrison in the Winchester army. A hundred-thousand men will join up with Sam and Dean to create a force like nothing seen before.

They’re unstoppable and they know it.

“The sword maker arrived today,” Dean observes as they trot along the forest line. Both men scan the horizon, constantly vigilant of a possible impending attack.

Sam looks to Dean. “I could use a new blade. And his brand.”

His brand. Sam plans to make his ownership permanent. He must believe in your allegiance if he’s willing to brand you with the Winchester crest.

“I’ll have my Omega marked as well,” Dean adds and Sam turns to him with an inquisitive brow.

“The blonde one that’s tried to kill you twice now?”

“Best to have the family claim as soon as possible. I’ve heard reports of camps attacked and Omega’s being stolen and smuggled to the borders. We need her if we want to bargain.”

“She’s still wild?” Sam grins, watching Dean’s exasperation with amusement.

“She’s a hard one to break. Every time I think I’ve gotten the best of her she tries something new.”

“How long do you think she’ll live once our father shows up?”

“Depends on if he truly needs her as a bargaining chip or if he’ll just use her to entertain the men. Nothing gets them as energized as a beheading.”

“True. You won’t be broken-hearted?”

“No, not in the least. As soon as I find another Omega she’s heading to the jailer.”

“Smart. Better to have her under lock and key.” Sam rides for some time in silence, watching the slow-moving cloud trails across the gray horizon. “You told my Omega I was going to give her to you. Then to the men.”

“Maybe, sounds like me.” Dean laughs it off. “What’s the problem.”

“She tried to slit her own throat. I think she’s passed it now, but you could have given me a warning. You know how they react. I’d like to keep her alive.”

“It was a comment. She’s fragile.” Dean dismisses the idea that he acted rashly. “I’m still not convinced she didn’t have a hand in poisoning you. We should at least interrogate her. We can’t let the culprit get away with an attempt on Sam Winchester’s life. It sends the wrong message. Someone needs to be an example of what happens if they come after one of us. A body or two should do the trick.”

“And you think that person is my Omega?”

“Your Omega?” Dean shoots him a look “Please, we both know you’d never give her up. You’re too deep in that wet little cunt to see straight.”

“I see very clearly. Perhaps more than I have in a long time. I’m not sure I was ever truly satisfied before her. I thought the stories of destined matches were as much shit as you did but, now I...there’s something to it.”

“Have you been through a rut yet?”

“No,”

“Then how can you know for sure?”

“Because after I fuck her I don’t have the itch. It’s been gone since the first time.”

Every Alpha knows the feeling. An unsettled urgency in the gut that leaves a constant need for one more round to get it out. Betas do nothing for it. It’s the reason so many of them end up injured or worse by Alphas trying to find satisfaction. Omegas bring well-needed relief, but it’s not complete.

“Seriously?” Dean raises an eyebrow, checking if his brother is indeed serious. “Tell me how a bastard as coldhearted as you ends up with a true mate? That’s the universe fucking the rest of us. You’ve always been fucking lucky.”

“I’m not sure I would call dying in the battlefield and losing my soul, lucky.”

“Maybe it’s not luck, but it’s something.” Dean thinks on this while they ride further. “Do you remember what you were like before?”

“Not that different from now.”

“You wouldn’t recognize yourself. Do you remember when you killed your first man? You were sixteen and you cried for a week.”

“No, I didn’t...did I?”

“You did. I wasn’t sure you’d ever pick up a sword again. You don’t remember, do you?”

“I can’t remember anything from before. Feelings mostly, about dad, you. I have a few specific memories but nothing more than that.”

“When you were little you were a sweet kid. You’d go out and pick flowers for mom. Bouquets of small yellow flowers wrapped up with twine.”

“Stop it,” Sam looks away, shifting in the saddle.

“Call it whatever you want, luck, destiny, but be prepared to put up a fight if you want to keep her after dad gets wind of it. You know how he is about the Omegas. And she’s a prize, he’ll want her to give to some loyal-”

“He can try.” Sam shrugs. “And he’ll fail to take her. He knows better than to cross me.”

“Maybe,” Dean surmises, watching as they come upon the camp.

#soulless!sam x reader #alpha!sam x omega!reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader

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goodomensblog · 5 years ago

Text

Afterward - Part 10

A Good Omens Choose Your Own Adventure Fic

Here’s how it works:

I’ll write a scene.

At the end of each scene, you’ll be presented with 2-3 options for what the characters will choose to do next.

Comment or reblog to vote for your choice. I’ll count all votes after the first 24 hours after each update is posted.

Read: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

(#1 won this round! It’s heist timeeee)

Afterward - - Part 10

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

“...so, in summation, we, well - slightly bent the rules and kept the jar of Hellfire.”

“How?”

“Swapped out the real jar with a fake and,” Gabriel shrugs, “the demon didn’t notice when he brought it back. Truthfully, the poor guy seemed a little-,” he stops, awkwardly grimacing as he taps a finger against his head.

“Idiot,” Beelzebub hisses, fingers curling, piercing the couch with jagged holes.

Gabriel waves a hand, and the shredded couch knits together.

“Works out for us though,” Crowley says.

Beelzebub, slumping in exhaustion, manages a nod. Extending a sharp nail, they reach out, poking a fresh hole in the newly repaired couch.

Aziraphale, glancing down, presses a staying hand on Beelzebub’s wrist.

“Rest,” he counsels. “Save your energy. We don’t know how long it will take Gabriel to return with the Hellfire.”

‘Me?”

Three sets of eyes are, at once, glaring at the Archangel.

“Obviously,” Crowley says, breaking the silence.

“Hey - I already told you it was here. I could have easily kept that to myself.”

“You are literally the only one here who can get it,” Crowley replies, incredulous.

“Yeah, well, I’m not going to,” Gabriel says, crossing his arms. “You all don’t even know what’s been going on in Heaven today. Frankly, it’s a mess. In fact, I should be out there right now, you know, doing my job. People are on high alert. It’s a whole thing. Even I couldn’t just walk on in and take the Hellfire.”

“Gabriel,” Beelzebub says, forcing their weak voice loud. “I’m not - I’m not asking you for a favor. I know - I know you wouldn’t - If you do this, I’ll pay up - I’ll pay up later. You know I’m good for it,” Beelzebub hisses, forehead creasing in pain. “Anything. Just - ugh,” shivering, the demon heaves a wheezing breath and goes quiet.

Their dark gaze turns up, dull and half-lidded, as if they already know what the Archangel’s answer will be.

Gabriel had listened, holding himself rigid, posture perfectly straight. And now that Beelzebub has silenced, Gabriel turns his head down, nostrils flaring. He shakes his head.

“I cannot-”

“You can. And you will,” Aziraphale interrupts.

Gabriel turns at the interruption, lips curling into a sneer.

Aziraphale, bracing his hands on the couch, presses up. Beelzebub watches him rise, dark eyes unreadable.

Hands fisted at his sides, Aziraphale turns. Standing straight, he looks at Gabriel, head tilted to meet his eyes.

“You’ll retrieve the Hellfire. Because Beelzebub is dying. And it is within your power to save them. And because,” and when Aziraphale pauses, drawing a breath, his wings flicker in and out of existence on this plane - and they don’t look quite right - but they’re gone before Crowley can see more than a glance.

“It is the right thing to do,” Aziraphale finishes, head held high.

“You don’t get to decide what is right-”

“I just did,” Aziraphale snaps. His fists are trembling.

Crowley, circling around Gabriel, curls his fingers, knuckles cracking as nails shift to claws. “I’d listen to the angel, Archangel.”

“Fighting will draw attention. Thought you wanted to avoid that, seeing as you are a traitor,” Gabriel says, shifting to keep both angel and demon within sight.

“Oh, I would prefer it, yes. However, I’m starting to think Heaven might be otherwise occupied today. What did you call it? A mess?” Aziraphale asks, stepping into a stance Crowley recognizes. Last time he’d stood like this, he was holding a flaming sword. “So I’m wondering if they’d notice a power surge at all. Especially from the residence of an Archangel.”

Shivers climb Crowley’s spine, because this is a side of Aziraphale he doesn’t get to see very often. Smiling, sharp as a knife, Crowley prowls, matching Aziraphale’s stance.

“Just say the word, Aziraphale,” Crowley calls, gleeful.

He does usually prefer more creative methods to outright violence. But for Gabriel, who sent Aziraphale to burn with a cold, guiltless smile, Crowley is happy to make an exception.

“I don’t want to drag you into this, Crowley,” Aziraphale says, eyes on Gabriel as he circumvents the coffee table.

“Please angel, you’d have to drag me out of it.”

Crowley is moving opposite Aziraphale, keeping the Archangel perfectly between them.

Gabriel spins, trying to face both of them at once.

“You have a choice to make, Gabriel,” Aziraphale calls.

“I can take you. Both of you,” Gabriel replies, the nervous edge in his voice undercutting his bold words.

“Maybe,” Aziraphale says - as Crowley calls out:

“Can you though?”

Violet eyes flick back and forth between them - and then to Beelzebub, pale and sunken on the couch.

Crowley is almost disappointed to see the fight go out of him.

Tension bleeding from his rigid spine, Gabriel shrinks back. Letting out a string of sharp, ancient curses, Gabriel drags a hand down his face.

“Fine,” he says, vitriolic. “But I am not touching that damned jar. Someone will have to risk coming with me.”

Cold eyes look to Crowley.

“Fine by me.”

Aziraphale, gaping, scurries between them. “No - no. Not fine.” Eyes wide, Aziraphale turns on Crowley. “You are not going out there. Not with him.”

“I can probably disguise myself well enough for a quick trip to the - er, wherever. Like Lil’ Gabbie said-”

“That is not my name.”

“Like Gabbers said, Heaven’s preoccupied today,” Crowley shrugs - and it has not escaped his notice that Gabriel has yet to reveal what precisely has Heaven so worked up.

“They won’t notice me if I take steps to conceal myself. Besides,” and here Crowley pauses, lowering his voice. “Best someone keeps an eye on our favorite Archangel anyway. Ensure he doesn’t make any extra stops along the way.”

“I’m right here. I can hear literally everything you’re saying.”

Crowley, casually flicking his middle finger over Aziraphale’s shoulder, continues.

“Really angel. I’ll be fine. More than fine once I get my hands on the Hellfire.”

Behind Aziraphale, Gabriel shifts, his already rigid posture stiffening.

“Yeah, stop that. I’m not going to waste it on your sorry ass, Archangel.”

“Try it and I’d smite you where you stood.”

And then Aziraphale is turning, and the air is vibrating around them.

“Touch him and I swear to God that I will end you, Gabriel,” Aziraphale says, the terrible timbre of truth resounding with a buzzing pressure, laying weight to his every word.

Crowley’s skin is prickling - in reaction to both the gathering power and Aziraphale’s words; heart in his throat, he reaches out, placing a staying hand on Aziraphale’s arm.

Electricity sparks between them. It is red - no blue, no, it’s black and white and silver and gold and -

Angel and demon start, pulling apart.

The electricity fizzles out, curling and twisting into nothing, like smoke from a doused flame.

Crowley glances up, meeting Aziraphale’s startled gaze.

“What…?”

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale answers, pale and hushed.

Behind them, Gabriel heaves a deep, exhausted sigh.

“You two had to go fuck up something else, didn’t you?”

“We didn’t-” Aziraphale starts, bristling - then halts, glancing down at his wrist.

Crowley turns his own wrist over, inspecting the cut that is, by now, nearly healed.

“Huh.”

“Yeah huh. Look, I’ll deal with whatever fuckery you two managed to create later. You want the Hellfire or not?” Gabriel glances, as if on impulse, back at the couch.

Beelzebub’s eyes have drifted closed.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale says, turning.

“I’ll be back before you know it, angel. Promise,” Crowley says, and believes it - because lying to his angel about something like this would be unforgivable.

As if he can feel the truth, resonant, in Crowley’s words, Aziraphale stops. Lips pressing together, he looks Crowley up and down. Brows curving, concerned skin wrinkling between them, he says, chin quivering, “Crowley, I-”

“Are we going or not? Come on.”

Crowley reaches out, brushing his knuckles over the back of Aziraphale’s hand. There are no sparks, but Aziraphale, nonetheless, shivers beneath the touch.

“Don’t open the door for anyone, angel,” Crowley says, and with a snap, shifts his body.

The Archangel Michael stands, slouching, in the center of the room. Pursing golden lips, Crowley removes his dark glasses.

“Seriously,” Gabriel says, flat and exhausted, “What happens if we run into the real one?”

Hands on his hips, Crowley shrugs, arching one of Michael’s manicured brows.

“I am the real one. I’m walking around with the Archangel fucking Gabriel. The other one’s clearly the impostor.”

Eyes rolling to the ceiling, Gabriel heaves a deep breath. “Fine. Let’s just -”

Beelzebub, reaching out, grabs hold of Gabriel’s pants.

“Ten minutes,” Beelzebub says, voice quieter than a whisper. “Think I can last...ten more minutes. Understand....asshole?”

Gabriel’s expression is impossible to read. Lips pressing together in a hard, flat line, he drags his leg loose of Beelzebub’s grasp.

“Hey,” Gabriel calls with a sharp look toward Crowley and Aziraphale. “Is this happening, or not?”

Crowley, flicking his fingers in a mocking salute, gives Aziraphale one last lingering look.

“Be back soon, angel.”

“I believe you,” Aziraphale says. Eyes wide, and hands wringing in front of him, he watches as Crowley step up to the door.

“Gabriel,” Aziraphale calls as the door swings open. “What I said earlier - I meant it. Don’t lay a hand on him.”

Gabriel, casting a withering glance back into the apartment, slams the door.

Tapping a heel against gleaming marble floor, Crowley turns a long look at the arching halls.

Heaven.

“Try not to sully it with your sin,” Gabriel says, and sets off at a brisk pace down the hall.

Crowley, sneering at the back of his head, flips him off with Michael’s manicured hand, and strides purposefully after.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

After six thousand years, Crowley again walks Heaven’s halls….

A fun one this time! Choose how much energy Crowley will devote to “getting along” with Gabriel on their Hellfire acquisition mission:

0% energy - Crowley will be 100% bastard. Because Gabriel is the actual worst and he deserves it.

50% energy - Crowley will be reasonably civil - unless Gabriel is really asking for it. They do have limited time, but Crowley isn’t about to let Gabriel walk all over him.

100% energy - Crowley promised Aziraphale that he would return unscathed. If he has to play nice with Gabriel to ensure his safe return, he will.

Comment or reblog to vote :) (ALSO thank you all so much for voting and participating in this! I just absolutely love reading your thoughts behind why you are voting for any given option.)

Read Part 11 Here

#my writing #good omens fic #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #ineffable husbands #ineffable husbands fanifction #ineffable husbands fanfic #ineffable husbands fic #aziraphale #crowley #good omens beelzebub #good omens gabriel #ineffable bureaucracy #eventually maybe #good omens #HELLFIRE HEAVEN HEIST IS A GO

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sssrha · 4 years ago

Text

The Long Way ‘Round

Both Sects announced that they’d be holding funerals. That is, separate funerals. Ouyang Zizhen wasn’t impulsive; he put a great deal of thought into his next actions. The Lan Sect was such a mess that sneaking into the Cloud Recesses was concerningly easy. Koi Tower had been a bit harder, but Ouyang Zizhen wasn’t the third-ranked cultivator for nothing.

He placed their bodies right next to each other, and he smiled at them both. “Soon,” he promised, “you can rest. Just hang in there for a bit, alright?”

Neither of them answered.

Or: After the deaths of his two best friends whose only crime was daring to love each other, Ouyang Zizhen takes their bodies and goes in search of a proper resting place. He meets a little ghost boy and a somewhat insane Sect Leader, and nothing seems to get better.

Read it below or on AO3.

Ouyang Zizhen’s first memory is of his father calling him a disgrace. “Unholy child!” the Sect Leader of the BalingOuyang spat. “Smearing our honor! Look at what you’ve done!” Ouyang Zizhen looked to his mother, begging her to speak up for him, but she ignored him. At least she wasn’t yelling, too.

The doctor, however, didn’t have any reservations about speaking against the Sect Leader. “He has no control over it,” the woman insisted. “He didn’t choose to be allergic to spiritual grass.”

“I’m no idiot—but we’re cultivators! If he can’t handle spiritual grass, what does that mean for us? He’s my only offspring!”

“He can cultivate,” the doctor assured. “Just have him stay away from spiritual grass.” She paused before repeating, “It won’t affect his cultivation.” She said it insistently. Sect Leader Ouyang finally stood down, leaving the room in a flourish of robes after throwing a quick glare at his son.

Ouyang Zizhen was four. “No spiritual grass?” he asked the doctor quietly.

She nodded. “Don’t go near them, Young Master Ouyang. They’ll hurt you very badly.”

Later, he learns that contact with them is deadly for him. Later, he remembers his father taking him to a garden after that conversation. He doesn’t remember what happened in that garden, but he remembers his mother’s barely-hidden devastation when he woke up in the infirmary, and the silent rage on the doctor’s face.

He thinks he knows what happened in the garden, and he realizes that his so-called “elders” are all too set in their ways to be kind and compassionate—to be decent human beings. He isn’t shocked when someone else suffers from their narrow-mindedness. Instead, he bows his head and cries.

***

Ouyang Zizhen’s eyes are drooping with exhaustion, but he keeps on going. In the morning, he’ll find somewhere to rest—somewhere where no one will find him or his carriage. Somewhere safe from their mindless hatred and violence.

His carriage is plain and unimpressive, as are his clothes, and his horse is not one from the BalingOuyang’s stables. He gathered all of these in secret, on his own, and no one knows anything of them. In his head, he thinks, ‘Who would I be, if this were a play?’ The role of the star-crossed lovers is already taken and he certainly isn’t the main character. He wonders if he’s even anyone of note, or if he’s just someone who shows up at the last minute to do a nice thing. He wonders if he’d be in the play at all. Maybe, the writers would just leave it at the tragic ending—Ouyang Zizhen certainly isn’t going to add anything of value to it.

Oh, but he so desperately believes that he will. He wishes he was sure that he’s doing the right thing, but after a week of travel, being hunted like a criminal by those who’d once been his allies, he can’t help but think that he’s made a mistake.

No. He’s doing the right thing—this is what they would have wanted. There is no way they would have been okay with the arrangement their Sects had made. “Honor,” one venerated elder had said, “is very important. It must be done for their honor to stay intact.”

Honor? What honor? They didn’t do anything wrong—of that, Ouyang Zizhen is sure. The only crime they’d ever committed was loving each other.

He keeps on going down the road.

***

“Have you heard?” someone whispers the next morning in the inn he stops at.

“What?” the man’s friend replies.

“The bodies of Jin Rulan and Lan Jingyi have gone missing!”

“Gone missing?” the friend scoffs. “Please, everyone knows that Ouyang Zizhen stole the bodies! The nerve of that man—just because he was once their friend, he thinks that he has the right to do something like this? How will they ever rest in peace?”

Ouyang Zizhen bows his head farther. His bamboo hat hides his face, but nothing can stop those whispers from reaching his ears, and he is livid. Resting in peace? How could either of his friends rest in peace in the situation they were left in? And, he soothes himself, he was Jin Ling

and Jingyi’s friend right up until the end. Even now, in their death, he won’t let them be disrespected.

He just needs to bury their bodies, and he’ll bury them together, just like they deserved. Star-crossed lovers deserve to stay together. That privilege was ripped away from them in life, but Ouyang Zizhen will see to it that they’re not denied it in death.

***

Lan Jingyi and Jin Ling’s world had shattered the moment Lan Xichen’s edict was announced. No one else knew what to make of it, either. After all, who would have thought that the virtuous Zewu-Jun had an illegitimate child? And who would have thought the child was Lan Jingyi?

However, the strokes on the edict Lan Xichen wrote were steady and confident, unlike the ones of Lan Jingyi’s note when he wrote to Ouyang Zizhen. “I’ve never even met him,” Lan Jingyi had written. “He’s been in seclusion my entire life, and now I’m suddenly going to meet him as his son and heir.” The panic was evident through the paper. “Zizhen, what am I supposed to do? I don’t know how A-Ling feels. How can we be together now? Before, we could have tried, Zizhen, but now he’s Sect Leader Jin and one day I’ll be Sect Leader Lan.

“Zizhen, is it bad that I’m resenting Zewu-Jun this much?”

“No,” Ouyang Zizhen had replied. “It’s perfectly natural.” He understood why Zewu-Jun had done it, though. The death of Lan Wangji and his wife two months prior had shocked the entire cultivational world—no, the entire kingdom. After all, Lan Wangji was the brother of Sect Leader Lan, and his wife was the grandniece of the Emperor. (Everyone handily ignored the whispered words that crawled through every Sect and village—the ones that said that their deaths weren’t an accident. The ones that said people could hear the screams from the Jingshi. The ones that said the demure princess had murdered her husband before killing herself. None of it was Ouyang Zizhen’s problem.)

Zewu-Jun had made it clear that he wasn’t going to leave seclusion, not even to get married and produce an heir, seeing as Lan Wangji and his wife had been childless. So, of course, he’d legitimized his child born out of wedlock and named him his heir without even leaving the Hanshi.

For a man such as Lan Xichen, it made sense. It didn’t mean that Ouyang Zizhen supported him, though.

After some time, Lan Jingyi wrote to him again. “I met Zewu-Jun,” he said. “He apologized for springing this on me. He said that I was smart and that I could handle it. He didn’t ask me to call him ‘Father.’ I asked about my mother and he looked angry—he said that she didn’t matter. Wasn’t Zewu-Jun supposed to be kind and virtuous?”

“Jingyi,” Ouyang Zizhen had replied, “maybe Zewu-Jun and your mother didn’t marry for a reason. Maybe they didn’t like each other that much.” That, of course, begged the question about why they were together in the first place. But no one dared to ask about Lan Jingyi’s mother, or her relationship with his newly-revealed father, so he’d never know for sure.

“Zizhen, A-Ling and I still meet as often as we can,” Jingyi said when they managed to cross paths on a night hunt. “I don’t know how long we can keep this up.”

“One day,” Ouyang Zizhen promised, “the world will be ready for you.”

That day didn’t come fast enough.

***

“The Lan Sect is in chaos,” someone whispers the next village over. “No clear heir and all the factions that banded together to overthrow Lan Jingyi are now fighting each other.”

She receives a bored yawn. “How long before the Lan Sect disintegrates, do you think?”

“Three years.”

“Hm, I’d give it five.”

“The two of you have too much faith in cultivational Sects,” someone else butts in. “The Lan Sect is supposed to be the most virtuous of all, and yet look at the carnage! They’re falling apart at the seams—I’d be surprised if they made it through the year.”

Ouyang Zizhen keeps his head down. He gives it six months at best. Even before everything went wrong, Lan Jingyi had been trying to hold together a dying Sect. The only thing that most every Lan could agree on was that Lan Jingyi had no business being Sect Leader when he was an illegitimate child. Of course, no one batted an eye when Jin Guangyao smoothly stepped into the role of Sect Leader Jin when Jin Ling had been found dead. He was older and more proven, not to mention the man who had killed Wen Ruohan—the perfect choice, much better than Jin Ling had ever been!

Ouyang Zizhen wonders if the “venerated elders” will ever wake up and realize that they’ve ruined the lives of the next generation. He doubts it.

***

Jin Ling ran into him during a night hunt in the forests of Yiling, Lan Jingyi right by his side. Ouyang Zizhen offered them both a weak smile. “I heard the news,” he said. “It looks like all of us are Sect Leaders now.”

Lan Xichen had died a day earlier, and now Lan Jingyi had to go back and perform the proper mourning rituals before taking up the mantle of Sect Leader Lan. Lan Jingyi looked down and Jin Ling wrapped an arm around him. “Nothing will happen,” Jin Ling assured his lover quietly. “Everything will be fine—we can stay together. Right, Zizhen?”

“Right,” Ouyang Zizhen confirmed. “One day, I’ll be sitting front and center at your wedding.”

Lan Jingyi finally looked up, and he gave them both a pale imitation of his usual manic grin. “We’d look good in red.”

“Jin Ling would look good in red,” Ouyang Zizhen said. “I’m sorry Jingyi, but red is just not your color.”

Instead of making Lan Jingyi laugh, it made him cry, and Ouyang Zizhen and Jin Ling had to catch him when his knees buckled. He sobbed for what seemed like hours, Jin Ling whispering comforting words into his ear while Ouyang Zizhen gave him his most comforting smile. Eventually, the soon-to-be Sect Leader Lan fell asleep, and the bags under his eyes seemed more pronounced than ever.

“Zizhen,” Jin Ling said, “is it bad that the only reason I wish Zewu-Jun hadn’t died was so that A-Yi and I could be just a bit happier?”

“No,” he whispered back. “I wish the same thing, Jin Ling.”

They were not ready.

***

Before entering the next village, Ouyang Zizhen is stopped by guards. “Open the carriage,” they say. “Let us see what’s inside.” All they find is a carriage full of fruits, all of which are being kept fresh through Ouyang Zizhen’s spiritual powers—just like the bodies of Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi, which sit under the floorboards. The fruits’ scent covers up whatever smell the bodies may have been giving off, and Ouyang Zizhen is let inside the village easily.

Stopping here had been a bit of a gamble—the village is larger than the others had been, just barely missing the threshold of “town.” Here, there are more people, which means both an easier way to blend in and a higher chance of running into someone he doesn’t want to. Luckily, he experiences no further complications.

However, he does hear gossip, and a lot of it. “To think,” someone says, “that Lan Jingyi and Jin Rulan turned out to be cut-sleeves—how scandalous!”

“They’re too young and naive,” another gruffs, “and a passing passion ruined their lives. This is why you wait until marriage; look at how they turned out. The Lan Sect doesn’t like cut-sleeves, and the Jin Sect only barely tolerates them. I’m not surprised that Lan Jingyi was overthrown or that Jin Rulan was driven to suicide.”

Ouyang Zizhen nearly punches him in the face. Young and naive? Lan Jingyi and Jin Ling were well into their twenties. A passing passion? They’d been in love for years—all of Ouyang Zizhen’s romance books combined paled in comparison to their soft touches and sweet remarks. However, the man is right on one account: the Lan Sect doesn’t like cut-sleeves. Everyone that hated Lan Jingyi had used the scandal as an excuse to depose him—to murder him.

The Lan Sect is falling apart, and Ouyang Zizhen is glad.

As for Jin Ling…Ouyang Zizhen truly doesn’t know. He’d been head-over-heels, completely invested, but had he really been so overwhelmed that he committed suicide? Jin Ling was strong and fierce—Ouyang Zizhen had expected to find him in a rage and ready to storm the Cloud Recesses when he arrived at Koi Tower. Instead, Jin Guangyao gently informed him that Jin Ling had been so overcome with despair that he’d taken his own life. He’d been hanging from the ceiling, the servants had said.

Jin Ling had smiled so proudly when they were seventeen and he’d defeated hundreds of fierce corpses all on his own. Jin Ling wore his robes and vermillion mark with pride. Jin Ling was talented and good-looking and the first-ranked cultivator. How could he hang himself?

Then again, how could the righteous Lan Sect murder its own Sect Leader in cold blood? Ouyang Zizhen knows only one thing: the world is a cruel, confusing place.

He continues on.

***

Ouyang Zizhen learned about it through the whispers of his servants. “What happened?” he’d demanded.

Eye downcast, he received a chilling answer. “Sect Leader, someone revealed a series of love letters sent between Sect Leader Lan and Sect Leader Jin.”

His heart immediately stopped. He’d seen a few of those letters—either Jin Ling or Lan Jingyi would bashfully show them to him, blushes covering their faces—and they left no room for guesswork. Each stroke was lovingly crafted, and each letter contained such deep affection that Ouyang Zizhen swooned. “A true romance, right before my eyes!” he’d said once upon a time.

Now their own happiness was going to be used against them.

He left immediately to the Lan Sect, but when he arrived a week later, it was already too late. A coup had taken place and Lan Jingyi was killed. The Sect Leader position was wide open, and there was obvious tension over who would inherit it. Before he left, he pulled aside one of Lan Jingyi’s servants that had managed to survive. “His last words?” he’d asked.

She shook her head. She hadn’t heard over the cries of victory.

It took him another week to get to Koi Tower, where he’d intended to comfort Jin Ling, but all he was met with was Jin Guangyao’s tired smile. “I’m sorry, Sect Leader Ouyang, but…A-Ling was overcome by grief. He couldn’t handle the news of Sect Leader Lan’s death.” He shook his head. “They really did love each other like a man would a woman.”

Ouyang Zizhen had cried when he finally got himself alone—his two closest friends (his two only friends) were dead, and it hurt.

Then both Sects announced that they’d be holding funerals. That is, separate funerals. Ouyang Zizhen wasn’t impulsive; he put a great deal of thought into his next actions. He bought a carriage, a horse, a change of clothes, and a cartful of fruit. The Lan Sect was such a mess that sneaking into the Cloud Recesses was concerningly easy. Koi Tower had been a bit harder, but Ouyang Zizhen wasn’t the third-ranked cultivator for nothing.

He placed their bodies right next to each other, and he smiled at them both. “Soon,” he promised, “you can rest. Just hang in there for a bit, alright?”

Neither of them answered.

***

Eventually, Ouyang Zizhen’s luck runs out. Some Jin cultivators are hot on his trail—merely a few hours behind. He doesn’t dare stop to rest, to eat, nor to relieve himself. The news of the Jin cultivators has already traveled past Ouyang Zizhen, so he’s in real danger. Staying ahead of rumors is always the goal, but it seems that he’s lost.

A sudden shout of, “Sir, stop the cart!” startles him. He follows on instinct, only to find a child, an early teen at best, standing in front of him, seemingly having appeared out of thin air. “You almost ran me over,” the boy says. He wears dark, tattered robes, but his smile is sweet and calming.

“I’m sorry,” Ouyang Zizhen replies. “Please move aside now.” He needs to keep moving.

The boy says, “Sir, you’re in trouble, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve got two bodies in the carriage, sir.”

Ouyang Zizhen’s eyes narrow. “Who are you?”

The boy stares at him, apparently happy that Ouyang Zizhen has asked. “You can call me A-Yuan.” That tells him absolutely nothing. Ouyang Zizhen is just about ready to run the kid over—no one can know about this, not ever—when the boy asks, “Are you heading to Xihe?”

He scowls. “What’s it to you?” Sweet Guanyin, Ouyang Zizhen is—or, rather, was—an accomplished Sect Leader and one of the most powerful men of his generation, and yet he’s already on edge from the calm, consistent stare of A-Yuan.

A-Yuan shakes his head softly. “Sir, they’re tracking you this easily—they’re expecting you to go to Xihe.”

“Well, this is the only road leading away from them, so I don’t have much of a choice in the matter, do I?”

“You could,” A-Yuan says, “head that way.” He raises his hand and points off to the side, into the foliage that lines the road. That is, he points off the road.

Ouyang Zizhen wonders if the boy is kidding, wonders if A-Yuan is taking some sick, twisted pleasure in making him feel more and more helpless with each passing second. However, A-Yuan’s face holds nothing but sincerity. “I can’t take a carriage through there,” Ouyang Zizhen says slowly. “It could break.”

“But if you stay on the road, you’ll definitely be caught,” A-Yuan points out softly. “Going into the woods is your best option, isn’t it?”

The worst part is, the little boy is right. Ouyang Zizhen has been trying to ignore it the entire time, but the truth is that he’s not going to be able to avoid the cultivators for much longer. Maybe this boy is a demon of some sort, trying to lure him into his den—but wouldn’t he be better off dying that way than with those wretched Jin? After all, no one would be able to separate Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi’s bodies. Death is a small price to pay. Resigning himself, Ouyang Zizhen lowers his head until his bamboo hat blocks the boy from view. “Sit with me,” he says.

He can’t see the look on A-Yuan’s face, but he knows that the boy complies. Faster than possible, he ends up sitting next to Ouyang Zizhen, who immediately grips the reins tighter as he turns the carriage. They head right into the woods.

They keep on like that for a few hours, neither of them saying a word as they weave through trees and over streams. By some miracle, nothing happens to the carriage, and nothing goes horribly wrong. Ouyang Zizhen wonders if A-Yuan isn’t a demon. What if A-Yuan is a god that has decided to pity him? He’s too unsure of himself to bring it up.

Then, when the sun starts to rise, A-Yuan starts humming. It’s an absolutely beautiful melody that has Ouyang Zizhen’s heart stuttering as he immediately pulls back on the reins, making the horses grind to a stop. For the first time since he’d climbed on the carriage, he looks at A-Yuan and says, “Where did you learn that song?”

A-Yuan looks back at him, a vaguely pleased expression on his face. “You recognize it, then?”

How could he not? He’d heard it from Lan Jingyi, after all.

***

“Where did you learn that song from?” Jin Ling asked Lan Jingyi. The other boy’s legs were draped over Jin Ling’s lap, and Ouyang Zizhen had a hard time concentrating on the book in his hands when such an adorable, domestic scene was playing out right in front of him. And, he had to admit, the melody Lan Jingyi had been humming was enthralling.

The young boy sighed and rested his head on Jin Ling’s shoulder. “You can’t tell a soul,” he said.

“We won’t,” Ouyang Zizhen promised. Jin Ling just pressed a kiss to Lan Jingyi’s forehead, long ago having gotten comfortable with performing such blatant displays of affection and intimacy in the presence of their friend.

Lan Jingyi smiled. “I heard it coming from the Jingshi. Hanguang-Jun has been playing it a lot ever since he got back from Heizhu-Gong’s marriage.”

“Why do you think he’s doing that?” Ouyang Zizhen asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe he just likes it. Maybe the princess complimented him and he decided to make it his life’s work to perfect the song. It could be anything.”

“I can’t imagine Hanguang-Jun actually caring about anyone’s opinion about his music,” Jin Ling muttered.

Lan Jingyi shrugged. “Who knows?”

Jin Ling chuckled, this time pressing a kiss to Lan Jingyi’s lips. Ouyang Zizhen, recognizing that things were going to start going places he didn’t care for, stood and said, “I’ll be at that nice restaurant where we had breakfast. Find me when you’re done, yeah?” He didn’t wait to hear their responses before scurrying off, a smug look on his face. Those two were shameless with each other, and it was nice to know that they trusted him so much.

(According to Lan Jingyi, Lan Wangji had stopped playing that wonderful melody after he married a princess himself—the woman who was the sister of Wei Wuxian’s wife, and who was one of the two grandnieces of the Emperor.)

(Well, stopped wasn’t exactly the right word. He played it one more time: early in the morning on the day that he died.)

***

Ouyang Zizhen repeats, “Where did you hear that song?”

A-Yuan replies, “Look out for that branch.”

Ouyang Zizhen has to yank back on the reins to keep the horse from tripping. Gritting his teeth, he says, “You’re not going to tell me.” A-Yuan resumes his humming and Ouyang Zizhen keeps his mouth shut, just in case the boy really is a god.

As the days continue, Ouyang Zizhen becomes convinced that A-Yuan is a deity of some sort, because, even though they never go to a village, A-Yuan always seems to know which direction to point him in for an animal he can catch for food, or a safe stream that he can drink from. He considers asking him how he knows all of this, but then decides better of it. If A-Yuan hasn’t revealed it, then he must prefer his own mysteriousness.

However, while Ouyang Zizhen is technically still unsure of what A-Yuan is, he knows for certain that the boy is desperate to share a conversation with him. He’ll bring up anything—the weird marks on a specific tree, the stars that are barely visible through the canopy, even the consistent beat of the horse’s hooves against the forest floor. If it exists, then A-Yuan tries to bring him into a conversation about it. Ouyang Zizhen always answers as politely as possible. As wary as he is, he’s not quite ready enough to discuss dirt at length just yet.

One day, Ouyang Zizhen suddenly realizes something. He says, “I think I know where you want me to go.”

“You do?”

“Did you point me toward Qinghe?”

“I did,” A-Yuan confirms. “Are you alright with it?”

Well, the Nie Sect isn’t all that invested in the disappearance of Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi’s bodies—in fact, Ouyang Zizhen doubts that Nie Huaisang spared it even a moment of thought—so it’s not the worst place he could have gone. Originally, Ouyang Zizhen had been heading toward the lawless lands of Qishan—and had gotten rather close, actually—but Qinghe seems to be where A-Yuan wants him to go. After only a moment of hesitation, he nods. “If it’s safe,” he says, “I’ll go there.”

“Thank you for believing in me,” A-Yuan replies and, for a moment, he stops looking like some strange god shoved into the body of a child, and instead looks like a child who’s just been told that they’ve done a good job. He’s practically glowing under Ouyang Zizhen’s gaze, and the older man has to look away to properly identify the feeling that’s squirming in his stomach.

It takes him a second, but he eventually realizes that it’s pity. He pities A-Yuan for being able to draw so much happiness from the trust of a stranger. And they are strangers—despite traveling together for two weeks, they barely know each other. (Or, at least, Ouyang Zizhen barely knows A-Yuan. He has the sneaking suspicion that it’s not necessarily the same the other way around.)

After another day, A-Yuan says, “Stop.” His eyes are narrowed onto the space in front of them. Ouyang Zizhen obeys, but is confused about what has the boy so riled up until he hears it: the consistent steps of another horse.

Whoever else is there is already too close—with how big his carriage is, Ouyang Zizhen will never be able to outrun them. So, gritting his teeth, he rests his hand on his sword, which is still tied to his waist; a cloth now covers its majestic sheath, but it must be done to keep his identity a secret. A-Yuan doesn’t untense, even when a figure makes itself clear in the darkness.

Ouyang Zizhen doesn’t know whether he should be scared or relieved that it’s Nie Huaisang who sits upon the midnight mare. The older man observes Ouyang Zizhen, giving him an appraising once-over, before saying, “Sect Leader Ouyang, what a surprise. I didn’t think that you’d show up here.”

The Ouyang Sect had long since named another Sect Leader, so Nie Huaisang is just trying to be polite. It only succeeds in putting him more on edge. “Why are you here?” he asks.

Nie Huaisang stares at him. “You’re asking the Sect Leader of the QingheNie why he’s in his own forest?”

Immediately, Ouyang Zizhen ducks his head and mutters out an apology. He needs to remember the position he’s in—he has no Sect backing, he’s a wanted criminal, and he’s completely at Nie Huaisang’s mercy. Nie Huaisang’s eyes sweep over the carriage he’s drawing behind him. “You’re dragging the bodies of the previous leaders of two presitigous Sects with you in a fruit cart?” he asks. He sounds bitter, as if he’s not surprised.

Ouyang Zizhen doesn’t answer.

Nie Huaisang sighs. “What are you planning to do with the bodies?”

It’s a test. Ouyang Zizhen doesn’t have any proof of it, but he’s been in politics long enough to recognize that the Nie Sect Leader is trying to figure out if he’s worth helping. In the face of such a powerful man, Ouyang Zizhen can’t quite lie. So, he tells the truth. “I want to bury them together in a place where they’ll never be disturbed,” he says. “They deserve it.”

“You three were friends, weren’t you?”

“We were.”

After a bit of silence, Nie Huaisang asks, “Why didn’t you bury them somewhere along the way to here? No one would find them.”

Ouyang Zizhen glances away. He doesn’t know if he has a thick enough face to say that he’s been waiting to find somewhere worthy of being Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi’s resting place. He can’t bear to leave them in an unmarked grave in the middle of nowhere. Fortunately, Nie Huaisang seems to gather whatever information he needs by staring at his face.

“Well,” Nie Huaisang says, “where are you heading now?”

Imperceptibly, Ouyang Zizhen glances toward A-Yuan, who says, “The Liuning Forest.”

For some reason, Nie Huaisang doesn’t seem to hear him, and that’s when Ouyang Zizhen realizes that the man hasn’t even looked at A-Yuan in all of the time since they’ve met. A-Yuan must not be showing himself to him. So, Ouyang Zizhen repeats, “The Liuning Forest.”

“It’s a nice place,” Nie Huaisang replies. “Get some rest. I’ll drive the carriage there for you.”

“What about your horse?”

“She’s well-trained,” Nie Huaisang promises, running his hand through the mare’s inky hair. “She’ll stay right with us.”

Realizing that he’s not in a position to refute the other man, Ouyang Zizhen complies. He piles into the carriage, moving a few piles of fruit away so that he can sit inside—and he does his best to ignore the fact that he’s sitting right about Lan Jingyi’s legs. A-Yuan gets in right after him, and after Nie Huaisang starts the journey, A-Yuan says, “Why did you do that?”

“What?”

“Sect Leader Nie is famous for his lack of sword skills. You were the third-ranked cultivator of your generation. Why didn’t you fight him?”

“We’re in the middle of Qinghe, A-Yuan. Killing, or even harming, Sect Leader Nie isn’t ideal. Besides, Sect Leaders don’t just wander around alone—I will be legitimately surprised if there aren’t people watching over him.”

A-Yuan hums. “You say that, but I think that you’re just scared of him.” There’s nothing mocking in his tone, just a plain observation.

Ouyang Zizhen’s stomach churns uncomfortably. Who wouldn’t be scared of Nie Huaisang? After the death of his brother, they say that he went crazy. They say that, for a short period of time, he had nearly starved himself to death and dismissed all of his servants. They say that he nearly Qi Deviated merely six months after Nie Mingjue did. Now, they say that he never gets into any problem—no matter what it is, he doesn’t let it affect him. And when someone causes him a problem…well, they’re never heard from again.

Nie Huaisang is scary, even with a fan in his hand instead of a sword—or, perhaps, he’s scarier that way. (Those blood-brown eyes peeking over that ornately-decorated fan will forever haunt his dreams.)

“I am,” he eventually admits. It’s painful to say it out loud, to finally completely acknowledge that he’s at the other man’s mercy. Deciding that he doesn’t like it, he moves on to a different topic. “Sect Leader Nie can’t see you.”

A-Yuan nods in agreement. “Most people can’t.”

“Why?” Finally, he’s worked up the courage to ask.

A-Yuan stares at him, looking oddly vulnerable. “Sir, you won’t get mad at me, right?”

“No,” Ouyang Zizhen promises. As if he’d get mad at a deity.

Accepting his answer, A-Yuan nods before whispering, “I’m dead.”

That…is not what Ouyang Zizhen had been expecting. “What?”

“I’m dead. I’m a ghost. That’s why he couldn’t see me.”

“Then why can I see you?” Ouyang Zizhen demands. If A-Yuan is a ghost, then he’s a completely harmless one. He’s not giving off any energy of any sort—resentful or otherwise—and his presence is so stable and even Ouyang Zizhen, a well-accomplished cultivator, didn’t recognize his lack of life. Even now, A-Yuan seems so alive: his cheeks have a healthy flush, his eyes sparkle with intelligence, and his breathing is calm and soothing. How can it all be fake?

A-Yuan says, “Because I want you to.”

“Why do you want me to?”

“I promised that I would help you.”

“When?”

“When they asked me.” He pats the wooden floor of the carriage, and Ouyang Zizhen is reminded of the two bodies underneath the fake floor.

He lets out a strangled gasp. “They…”

“Asked me to take care of you. They were worried about you—you abandoned your Sect and put yourself in danger for them, sir.”

“Is that how you knew the song?” Ouyang Zizhen asks weakly.

A-Yuan nods. “Previous Sect Leader Lan was fond of it.”

“Are…are they still here?”

“No,” A-Yuan replies quietly. “They’ve moved on and are about to enter the cycle of reincarnation.”

Ouyang Zizhen squeezes his eyes shut. A single tear runs down his cheek. “Are they happy?” he asks. “Are they entering it together?” Because if so, then half of Ouyang Zizhen’s worries will be put to rest. The other half will simmer down once he’s buried their bodies.

A-Yuan says, “They’re happy. They’re waiting a bit before entering reincarnation, last time I heard.”

Yes, that makes sense—staying together in bliss for a while before reentering this horrible, chaotic world is a good idea. More tears slip down Ouyang Zizhen’s face, and this time, he’s not sad. A-Yuan’s words echo through his head: ‘They’re happy.’ He’ll treasure it for the rest of his life.

They stay like that for a few hours. Eventually, Nie Huaisang stops the carriage and opens the door. “We’re here,” he says. He seems unsurprised at the dry tear tracks streaking down Ouyang Zizhen’s face. “Why did you want to come here, anyway? Don’t get me wrong, it’s gorgeous—I’ll definitely have to paint the scenery—but most people don’t care that much about this forest.”

Ouyang Zizhen looks around and, slowly, memories start to resurface.

***

Ouyang Zizhen stared at the scene in front of him. “Who are you?”

Two boys, both around the same age as him, stood far apart from each other—the Lan’s hands moved quickly as he desperately tried to tie his forehead ribbon back on, and the Jin was doing his best to look anywhere but at the two other boys. When he didn’t receive an answer, Ouyang Zizhen repeated, “I said, who are you? What are you two doing?”

The truth was that Ouyang Zizhen knew exactly what was going on—look at their blushes, their secret glances, their swollen lips—but he’d long ago learned that acting on his knowledge without confirmation would only get him into trouble. Their continued silence was incriminating enough, however, so Ouyang Zizhen decided to power through. “You’re in a relationship, aren’t you?” They froze, wide eyes staring at him in horror, and it was only then that Ouyang Zizhen decided to let out his delighted grin. “No, no, please continue! Secret trysts in the middle of a night hunt are the stuff of romance novels! So romantic! I’ll go, I’ll go—”

Quick as lightning, the Jin dashed forward and snatched up his arm. “Don’t tell anyone,” he hissed, and wow, his glare was wildly uncalled for. Ouyang Zizhen was nice about it and everything—he hadn’t even brought up the fact that they were both men!

A bit miffed, he shoved the other boy off of him, only for his mood to improve drastically when the Lan immediately rushed to his lover’s aid. “Don’t shove him!” he yelled. (Well, maybe he wasn’t a Lan, then.)

Ouyang Zizhen barely held in his swoon. “Actual lovers!” he exclaimed. “A romance right in front of my eyes!”

The anger and fear in the faces of the other boys finally melted into confusion. “You’re…okay with this?”

“Okay? This is wonderful! A Lan, a Jin, both men, having to meet in secret—a secret affair!” he declared. “If you two finally end up together and I’m there to witness it, then my life will be complete!” Ouyang Zizhen grabbed the Jin’s right arm and the Lan’s left and forced them both to hold hands. “Lovely,” he breathed. “The righteous Lan and the noble Jin—Sparks Amidst Snow, dancing in the clouds! This humble servant pledges that, from now on, he will do his best to protect your love!” Ah, the words—they flowed right out of his mouth.

The other two seemed to appreciate it, which is more Ouyang Zizhen could ever say about his father. “Thank you,” the Jin said slowly. He pulled his lover away from Ouyang Zizhen—protective and possessive at the same time, how marvelous—and they both sat a bit away from him.

Ouyang Zizhen sat down too. “So,” he said, “who are you two?”

They glanced at each other before shifting a wary look to him. “You won’t tell anyone?” the Lan asked.

“Never,” he promised. “Not unless you two ever want to dramatically reveal it to the entirety of the cultivational world. If you do, I actually have some good ideas—”

“Give us your word,” the Lan interrupted.

Ouyang Zizhen held up three fingers. “I, Ouyang Heng, courtesy Zizhen, will not reveal your relationship to the public without both of you giving me permission!” He’d read the books where only one person wanted to reveal the relationship—those always caused a mess. (But then again, wasn’t the mess the fun part?)

The Jin’s eyes widened, “You’re the Young Master Ouyang?”

“That I am! And you two…” He really wanted to know their names.

After another silent conversation between the two of them, the Lan stood up and bowed. “I’m Lan Fan, courtesy Jingyi, and this is Jin Ling, courtesy Rulan.”

For a second, Ouyang Zizhen didn’t process the names, and nothing changed. The moment he did, however, he immediately stood up straight. Lan Jingyi’s name wasn’t particularly special, but the other one… “You’re the Young Master Jin!” he exclaimed, pointing his right index finger at said man.

Jin Ling stared at him. “I am,” he admitted.

Ouyang Zizhen smiled wider. “Oh my, you’re the heir to one of the Great Sects!” he exclaimed. “That’s even better! Layer upon layer to this forbidden love! I don’t know if my heart can handle it!”

“Young Master Ouyang, please calm—”

“None of that! From now on, you will call this humble servant of yours ‘Zizhen’!”

Lan Jingyi’s eyes narrowed and the corner of his lips twitched downward, hinting at a hidden scowl. Jin Ling didn’t hide it, though. “Zizhen?” he asked. “We barely know you.”

“And yet I’ve fallen to the force of your romance!”

Lan Jingyi, apparently deciding to look at the bright side, finally huffed out a laugh. “Fine, Zizhen. In that case, call me Jingyi.”

“Jingyi,” Ouyang Zizhen repeated obediently. He then turned toward a red-faced Jin Ling.

“What are you looking at me for?” he snapped, turning away.

Lan Jingyi trailed his arm up to his lover’s shoulders, where he traced lazy little circles. Jin Ling shuddered slightly as Lan Jingyi whispered, “A-Ling, why are you being so mean to him?”

Such casual intimacy! In front of others, too! The sheer amount of sway that Lan Jingyi displayed over Jin Ling, who immediately caved and turned to their third-wheel, was astounding! Clearing his throat, Jin Ling said, “Call me Jin Ling. Not by my courtesy name.”

“He hates it,” Lan Jingyi supplied, pulling his arm away. Jin Ling leaned toward Lan Jingyi. However, he immediately leaned back with Lan Jingyi continued, “He thinks that it’s girly.”

“It is,” Jin Ling muttered. “That uncle of mine really went and screwed me over.”

“I rather like it,” Lan Jingyi teased. “Maybe when everyone regroups, I’ll thank Heizhu-Gong for connecting you to the Lan Sect in such a way.”

“It means ‘orchid’,” Jin Ling muttered.

Ouyang Zizhen seriously doubted that Lan Jingyi would dare talk to the famed Wei Wuxian, much less say something so scandalous, but it was so domestic that he actually let out a sigh. “I,” he said, “am here for you two! If you ever need anything—anything at all—I’ll do my best to help! I’ll cover for you, I promise!”

They both looked skeptical, but they accepted it. “Thank you, Zizhen,” they chorused, and Ouyang Zizhen smiled.

They stayed there for nearly the entire night hunt, chatting, until Jin Ling suddenly stood up and screeched, “Uncle’s going to kill me if I don’t get some more kills!” The thought of either Wei Wuxian’s or Jiang Wanyin’s—or even Jin Guangyao’s, really—rage, the three of them collectively shuddered and promptly spent the next hour frantically hunting the various monsters. Luckily, none of Jin Ling’s uncles had seemed particularly upset—and, as expected, Lan Jingyi never got within view of Wei Wuxian—and thus, all disaster had been averted.

They left after they all formally thanked Nie Huaisang for giving permission to night hunt in one of Qinghe’s forests, but Ouyang Zizhen, Lan Jingyi, and Jin Ling all kept in touch. Their first meeting was forever burned into their minds.

***

Nie Huaisang continues to stare at him expectantly, waiting for an answer, so Ouyang Zizhen replies, “This is where we first met.” And, as he’d found out later, this is where Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi had confessed to each other and had their first kiss…possibly even their first time if Ouyang Zizhen hadn’t snuck up on them.

Nie Huaisang smiles, looking somewhat thoughtful. “I remember that night hunt. It was rather uneventful—or at least, that’s what I thought. Apparently not, though.” He holds out his hand and helps Ouyang Zizhen out of the carriage. “I’ll get someone to help you bury them,” he says.

Ouyang Zizhen immediately shakes his head. “I’ll do it,” he insists. “No one else.”

“Fine,” Nie Huaisang replies. “And I apologize for the uncomfortability of it, but you’ll have to sleep in the carriage tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll have a cabin built for you.”

“What?” Ouyang Zizhen asks, eyes wide. “Sect Leader Nie, I can’t—”

“You can,” Nie Huaisang replies, “and you will. Where else can you go, Ouyang Zizhen?” He stops using his title—the one that no longer exists. Ouyang Zizhen realizes that he has nowhere else to go. His Sect has moved one, nearly every other Sect is hunting him down, and his only skill is cultivation. Well, he thinks, half-hysterical, maybe he can write romance novels for a living. Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi used to tease him about it—he can make it a reality. But then his mind comes back to reality and he bows his head. Nie Huaisang smiles. “I’ll be heading off now. If you decide you need help with the bodies, I’ll be back first thing tomorrow morning with some men. Rest assured, no one will get you as long as I’m Sect Leader Nie.”

Before he can stop himself, Ouyang Zizhen asks, “Why are you helping me?”

At this, the older man falls silent. A chilly breeze runs over them, and Ouyang Zizhen shivers even under all of his robes. Finally, Nie Huaisang decides to respond. “Two Sect Leaders are dead. There doesn’t need to be a third.” Ouyang Zizhen isn’t sure if Nie Huaisang’s talking about him or himself.

He leaves. Ouyang Zizhen finds a very specific tree that he remembers resting his back on while the three of them had chatted, way back when, and decides that it is the spot. He starts digging, and A-Yuan stands off to the side. “Do you want some help?” the boy asks.

“Are you able to help?” Ouyang Zizhen asks.

A-Yuan hesitates. Then, slowly, he crouches to the ground and tries to dig his fingers into the dirt. His hand slips right through as if the ground is a mirage. “No,” he says, sounding vaguely distraught, “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He continues digging. It’s a mindless task and his thoughts wander. “A-Yuan,” he says, “how old are you?”

A-Yuan hums. “As in how old was I when I died or how old I would be if I were still alive?”

Ouyang Zizhen pauses. “Both, I guess.”

“Well,” A-Yuan says, “I died when I was eleven. I was one of the last ones left. If I were still alive…I think I’d be around your age, actually. Maybe a few months older than you.”

A chill settles on Ouyang Zizhen’s spine. A-Yuan is the same age as him. They could have been friends. Shakily, he asks, “Who killed you?”

“Jin Guiren.” He doesn’t hesitate, and he says the name like it’s a random bug—no hate or fear, just simple neutrality.

Ouyang Zizhen wonders if he should ask how he died, or maybe why, but he decides against it. When the hole seems large enough, he climbs out and heads to the carriage. The bodies of Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi are both perfectly preserved, just like the fruit, and they both wear a sort of serene smile that they never would have in life. Their hands are curled into one another’s, though, so Ouyang Zizhen doesn’t let himself hate too much. Carefully, he picks them both up—both of their bodies are too cold, and it makes him shiver with sorrow.

He has no casket, so he buries them as they are. He scoops one pile of dirt back onto them, and he can almost hear Lan Jingyi say, “Look at you, all dirtied up—take a bath before you start stinking.” After another, he almost sees Jin Ling’s eyes flutter open as he says, “You’re going to pass out from exhaustion—take a break.” He keeps going and going, every time he buries them a bit more, they whisper his worries in his ears and ask him to please sit down and take some rest. He doesn’t listen to them—he’s their humble servant, and if he can’t do at least this much then what good is he?

When they’re buried, he punches a tree—not on a whim, but to get some of its bark. Then, letting some qi light into a phantom flame on his finger, he carves their names into the wood. Not their real names, of course—if someone finds this grave, they might ransack it upon realizing who’s buried here. Instead he carefully, lovingly, carves “A-Ling” and “A-Yi” into the bark.

When he sets it above their burial site, he swears that he can hear each of them whisper in one of his ears, “Thank you, Zizhen.”

He doesn’t think that he’s ever cried harder, and A-Yuan trying and failing to place a comforting hand on his shoulder doesn’t help.

The next morning, he’s nudged awake by a fan. When he opens his eyes, Nie Huaisang is standing over him, concerned. “Are you alright?” he asks. “You should have slept in the carriage. Come on, I’ve brought you something to eat.”

Breakfast passes with Nie Huaisang attempting to make friendly conversation, only for Ouyang Zizhen to deal out clipped replies. Eventually, though, the younger man says, “Sect Leader Nie?”

“Yes?”

“I should have waited for you. Would you have gotten them a casket if I asked?”

“I would have,” Nie Huaisang agrees, “but you seemed to be in a hurry to bury them, so I decided to not mention it.”

“They deserved a casket. No, they deserved more than a casket—they deserved an entire temple, just for them. I should have built them a temple, Sect Leader Nie.”

There’s something bitter in Nie Huaisang’s gaze. “What’s the point?” he asks. “They’re dead either way. They’ll have new bodies soon enough, if they reincarnate. If they’re freed from the cycle, they won’t have to worry about such worldly things. What does it matter if they’re buried in an unmarked grave or a temple?”

Ouyang Zizhen scowls. “Sect Leader Nie,” he hisses, livid, “they’ve done nothing wrong. Why should their bodies suffer from abuse that they don’t deserve? Their souls may be gone, but their bodies are gifts to the earth. Disrespecting them is unfair.”

“What good will respecting their bodies do?”

“It will give them and us peace,” Ouyang Zizhen says. “Is that not good enough of a reason?”

Nie Huaisang stares at him, uncomprehending, and then his expression shifts. For a moment, Ouyang Zizhen thinks that he’s gone too far, that Nie Huaisang will wave his fan and an arrow will come out and pierce through his neck. Ouyang Zizhen can stop it, of course, but what’s the point of delaying his inevitable death? But then, the older man just sighs. “It seems we have very different views on death.” He stands, snapping his fan shut. “I’ve eaten my fill, and the cabin has been built and has enough food to last for a while. Feel free to do what you need to. I’ll be back next week.”

He leaves in a flurry of robes, his servants leaving with him, and Ouyang Zizhen is left behind. A-Yuan smoothly slides into the seat across from him in the newly-constructed cabin. “Look, sir,” he says, “I’ve been practicing.” Before Ouyang Zizhen can ask what he means, A-Yuan slowly picks up a cup from the tea set.

“You can touch things now?”

“Just barely. It’s hard.” He sets the tea cup back down. “What’s your plan now, sir?”

That is a good question. In all honesty, Ouyang Zizhen hadn’t thought this far ahead. His only goal had been burying Lan Jingyi and Jin Ling’s bodies in an appropriate place, and now that it’s been accomplished, he feels…empty. “I can consider this secluded cultivation,” he mutters, then winces. Lan Xichen had also been in secluded cultivation, hadn’t he? And Lan Xichen was one of the reasons that his two best friends are dead. “Or not. I can continue to cultivate, in any case.” He pats the sword at his hip.

A-Yuan hums. “You’re a good cultivator, right?”

“Third-ranked in my age group,” Ouyang Zizhen nods.

“How about in all age groups?”

At this, he shakes his head. “They say that I’m impressive,” he says, “but the previous generation—it’s full of beasts. Lianfang-Zun, Jin Guangyao; the River God, Jiang Wanyin; Heizhu-Gong, Wei Wuxian…each is more terrifying than the last. And even though they both died pretty early in their lives, Zewu-Jun and Hanguang-Jun are said to have been extremely powerful—they say that together with Chifeng-Zun, the three of them had a body count nearly as high as Heizhu-Gong’s. My generation can’t live up to that.”

A-Yuan considers this. “The River God and Heizhu-Gong were Jin Rulan’s uncles, right? You’re lucky they haven’t come searching for you.”

The thought makes him shudder. “If Heizhu-Gong hadn’t been visiting the Capital, I don’t know if I’d still be alive right now. As for the River God…I don’t know why he hasn’t been searching for me.”

“He probably has his reasons.”

Ouyang Zizhen makes a vague sound of agreement.

They sit like that for a while, just basking in the silence, before Ouyang Zizhen asks, “A-Yuan, did you say that you were killed by a Jin?”

“Jin Guiren,” A-Yuan agrees.

“You also said that you were ‘one of the last ones left.’ What did you mean?”

“I was one of the last six people left at the work camp.”

“Did they work you to death?”

“No.” He reaches over and taps his nail against the ceramic of Ouyang Zizhen’s tea cup. “Watch me, sir,” he instructs, and then he morphs. His healthy skin turns sickly pale, some of his hair is pulled off—nauseating crimson spills into his vision. He has one black eye, and the other has considerable bags under it. His lip is split but, even more alarming, his lips are blue. Across his necks, there are ugly black bruises in the shape of hands. When he taps the tea cup again to pull Ouyang Zizhen’s attention to his hands, he finds A-Yuan’s nails chipped and broken—a few nails are missing entirely. A-Yuan says, “I’m going to tell you something, sir. Please don’t be mad at me.”

How can Ouyang Zizhen be mad at this child that has so obviously died in agony? He says, “I won’t.”

A-Yuan leans closer and then, so softly that Ouyang Zizhen barely hears him, he whispers, “Sir, my name is Wen Yuan.”

Wen. A boy that died in a work camp. Died at the hands of the Jin Sect. Vaguely, he remembers Jin Ling talking to him in private, shaking violently from head-to-toe. He remembers Jin Ling saying, “Zizhen, I don’t think my family is made up of good people.” He remembers Jin Ling saying, “I can’t tell you what it is, but I’ve found something terrible.” He remembers Jin Ling saying, “I can’t believe that something like this was allowed to happen.” He remembers sobbing and having to comfort his dear friend about a matter that he thought he’ll never know about.

Is this what he’d meant, back then? Or is the Jin Sect even more rotten than this? Seeing Wen Yuan’s increasing anxiety at his lack of reply, Ouyang Zizhen says, “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

Wen Yuan leans back, relieved, and lets his appearance morph back into that of a healthy young boy. “I could have looked like this,” he explains. “I like this better than how I really was.”

He shouldn’t have been beaten and strangled to death. Lan Jingyi shouldn’t have been thrust into the role of Sect Leader only to get killed in a coup. Jin Ling shouldn’t have had to consider suicide his only option. Ouyang Zizhen shouldn’t have had to take care of his friends because no one else would. “A-Yuan,” he says, “I think I hate them.”

“The Jin Sect?”

“Everyone. Every single person who fought in that god forsaken war and then thought that it gave them the right to ruin the lives of the next generation.”

“They suffered,” Wen Yuan points out. “More than we can imagine.”

“That’s not an excuse to cause even more suffering. Look at you—look at how you died. A-Yuan, are you trying to tell me that they deserved to do that to you?”

At this, Wen Yuan quiets down. “They did what they thought was right.”

“And they’ve done nothing but hurt others. Don’t try to justify it.”

Wen Yuan doesn’t answer.

Neither of them says a thing until lunch. “A-Yuan,” Ouyang Zizhen says, “why haven’t you moved on?”

The boy goes rigid. He whispers, “There’s something I still want to do.”

“I can help.” It’ll give him a goal, a reason to continue on. “Do you want Jin Guiren dead?”

“He died of illness already. I have something else in mind.”

“What is it?”

The boy bites his lip, once again looking so terribly vulnerable. “Sir,” he says, “I want to have a friend.”

Ouyang Zizhen thinks, ‘If things were different, we could have been friends.’ But, the more he thinks about it, he can be the boy’s friend. For right now, at least. “I’ll be your friend.” (After all, Ouyang Zizhen knows that, after Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi’s death, he’s had a distinct shortage of those.)

“Why do you want to be my friend?”

“Why not?” Well, there are a few valid reasons not to: Wen Yuan is a ghost, Wen Yuan is currently over a decade younger than him, Wen Yuan will probably move on at some point soon and Ouyang Zizhen may not be able to handle it very well—but he’s desperate, so he doesn’t let himself consider any of these.

“You…really want to be my friend?” He sounds vaguely disbelieving.

“I do.” Ouyang Zizhen stands and says, “What do you want to do?”

“What?”

“We can try to do some hunting,” he says. “Or we can explore the forest.”

“Why?”

“For fun. To get to know each other better. It’s a good bonding experience.” Hunting and exploring had been what he had done with Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi when they first met. “You’ll like it.”

Wen Yuan stares at him—vulnerable, nearly shaking—before nodding. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s explore the forest.”

***

It takes three days for Ouyang Zizhen to figure it out, but when he does finally notice, he can’t get his mind off of it. “A-Yuan,” he says, “you still call me ‘sir’.”

They’re foraging for berries in the forest, using a few baskets that Nie Huaisang had left behind for them. Wen Yuan is…not good at it, but he’s getting better. He just needs to concentrate. Ouyang Zizhen’s question startles him enough to let the berry fall right through his hands. He looks flighty, uncomfortable. “Ah, sir—do you want me to call you something else?”

“I’m your friend, right?”

“…right,” Wen Yuan agrees. Ouyang Zizhen hates how much he hesitates before he says that.

“I call you A-Yuan, and you said you were born before me, anyway. Call me…call me Zizhen.”

“Is that what they called you?”

There’s no question as to who “they” are; it’s quite obvious. “Yes,” he agrees. “All my friends call me that.” As if he still has any friends other than Wen Yuan.

Once upon a time, he’d had many. Somehow, he’d forsaken most of them after meeting Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi. He’d left the rest after he obtained their bodies and went on the run. But, as far as he can remember, the friends he used to have all called him by his courtesy name. Wen Yuan should, as well, shouldn’t he?

“Then…then I’ll call you Zizhen. Because we’re friends.” He says it with a little more confidence.

Ouyang Zizhen wonders if Wen Yuan will ever truly consider himself his friend. He hopes so. After all, Ouyang Zizhen has only ever seemed to exist for his friends, so if he doesn’t have any, then what will become of him? He’s useless as it is—only managing to safely bury Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi with the quite possibly insane Nie Huaisang’s help.

…wanting validation is a selfish reason for wanting a friend. Ouyang Zizhen does his best to shut that thought down. He offers Wen Yuan his best smile and hopes that it helps. It doesn’t.

They go back to picking berries.

Later, Ouyang Zizhen finds out that Wen Yuan doesn’t need to sleep. Ouyang Zizhen wonders what it feels like to be a ghost—to never need to be unconscious for several hours to regain energy. He can’t seem to regain energy even if he sleeps from sunset to noon—he can’t get himself out of bed for hours afterward. Wen Yuan always tries to coax him out—to eat, to bathe, to play—and sometimes it works.

The one thing that Ouyang Zizhen makes himself do is pick berries with Wen Yuan every day before sunset. It's a habit, and it’s…enjoyable. Calming. It soothes his soul in a way that his hours staring at the cabin ceiling don’t.

Today, Wen Yuan doesn’t go berry picking with him. Ouyang Zizhen doesn’t understand why until he gets a look at his own bony wrist.

“I…got skinnier?”

“Sect Leader Nie mentioned it in his visit, Zizhen.”

Nie Huaisang visited? He tries to get himself to remember, but his memory fails him. The best he can come up with is three weeks ago, when Nie Huaisang brightly asked for some of his berries so he could make pastries to give him.

Ouyang Zizhen frowns and pulls open a cabinet. Oh. The pastries are in there, stale and moldy. He closes the cabinet. “I forgot.”

“You haven’t been cultivating, either…”

He hasn’t been. It’s one thing to know that you need to do something, but it’s a different matter entirely to actually do it. And he can’t do it. His legs are too wobbly and his arms can’t hold any stances, and his chest can never take in a deep enough breath. He’s…he’s fallen out of order. Complete disarray. It’s his own kind way of accepting that he’s failed his own body.

Now, Wen Yuan can’t pick berries with him anymore, because Ouyang Zizhen doesn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, and Wen Yuan doesn’t want him to die of starvation. Wen Yuan, brows knit in concentration, is trying to make him some food.

Ouyang Zizhen bypasses the dining table and collapses onto the floor in the bedroom—quiet enough for Wen Yuan not to notice.

There is a good chance he falls asleep, because suddenly Wen Yuan is hauling him upright and dragging him to the table. “Eat,” he says.

Ouyang Zizhen is not hungry, but he eats so much that he throws up, anyway.

But—sometimes, Ouyang Zizhen has a good day. One time, it falls on the day Nie Huaisang visits. The older man brightens considerably. “You’re doing better than usual.”

Ouyang Zizhen wants to go back to bed, but he knows he can’t. The fact that he manages to sit still is enough to prove that today is a good day. “I guess I am.”

They chat over everything and nothing, and Nie Huaisang tells him some of the latest gossip in the cultivation world. Ouyang Zizhen pretends he cares. Eventually, when he leaves, Nie Huaisang gifts him a romance novel. Initially, Ouyang Zizhen is hopeful to read it and get lost in the pages.

He can’t manage to get through the first five. None of it interests him, no information managing to truly sit in his head. He gets to the bottom of a page and realizes he doesn’t remember a bit of what he’s just read.

He sets the book in the cabinet, right next to the forgotten pastries. Snippets of what he could have been, if he’d just tried harder. Done better.

Wen Yuan notices. “Zizhen, how about I read it to you?” he offers, already picking the book up. “All you have to do is listen. You’ll probably enjoy it more that way.”

Ouyang Zizhen agrees and Wen Yuan flips open the book, only to stare at its contents blankly. He quickly snaps it shut. Ouyang Zizhen frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“I…the characters are too hard for me. I don’t know how to read this.” He sounds frustrated, ashamed, absolutely furious with himself.

Ouyang Zizhen debates with himself, then offers, “I’ll teach you.”

He taught sword forms to children, so he should be able to teach reading. Wen Yuan readily agrees.

Ouyang Zizhen is a very bad teacher—he can feel it in his bones. Wen Yuan, too brilliant for his own good, understands anyway. He goes through with a mind of steel, and soon he’s able to read the book with no problem. Ouyang Zizhen is unsure of when it happens—the days have been blending together now that the date doesn’t matter.

Wen Yuan is smiling more often. Ouyang Zizhen makes sure to smile back.

And…it might take days or it might take months, but one day Ouyang Zizhen manages to make his own dinner, so he and Wen Yuan go berry picking again. There’s anticipation running thick through Ouyang Zizhen’s veins, waiting to feel the same soothing he’d felt before they’d stopped.

It never comes. His neck is aching and his fingers are spasming and he pushes himself to just pick a few more berries. After a few hours, Wen Yuan manages a basketful. Ouyang Zizhen manages to get twenty-seven. He stares down at them, confused and upset because he thought he’d done better, thought he could do better—

He needs to stop overestimating himself.

Wen Yuan doesn’t mention it, just scoops some of his own berries into Ouyang Zizhen’s basket with a chuckle. That night, Ouyang Zizhen eats all of it, then throws up. Wen Yuan gently leads him back to bed and sits by his side, humming the song that Lan Jingyi used to hum way back when.

Ouyang Zizhen whispers, “A-Yuan, I think I’m broken.”

Wen Yuan hesitates for less than a moment before smiling and saying, “You’re not. You’re in a tough spot and…and it’s going to be really hard to get out of it. But I’ll help. I’m right here.”

“You’re my friend.”

“I’m your friend,” Wen Yuan agrees, this time with no hesitation. “Sleep. I’ll wake you up in the morning.”

Ouyang Zizhen sleeps until noon the next day. When he wakes up, Wen Yuan is gone.

Wen Yuan’s only wish, the one thing keeping him from moving on, had been wanting a friend. Ouyang Zizhen became his friend—he helped a lost soul move on. He should be proud. Instead, he cries until his throat is parched, and then he just lies there. He doesn’t know how long. Eventually, Nie Huaisang comes and finds him—so maybe not that long at all.

Nie Huaisang forces him to drink water and eat food, and draws him a bath which Ouyang Zizhen just sits in until he’s all wrinkled like a prune, and then Nie Huaisang has to drag him out and make him dry himself and wear some clothes.

After it all, they sit at the dining table and Nie Huaisang says, “You’re a mess, you know that?”

Ouyang Zizhen has known that for a very long time. “Mn,” he agrees.

“You need to feed yourself or you might collapse again.”

Ouyang Zizhen didn’t collapse…or maybe he did. He’d experienced quite a few sensations during his meltdown, so maybe he really had collapsed. He dips his head. “Okay.”

Satisfied, Nie Huaisang leaves. Ouyang Zizhen stays in his bed.

Three days later, he decides that it has probably been a good while since he visited Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi’s grave, because now there is spiritual grass growing over it. He’s not surprised—they were both exceptional cultivators, so of course their bodies would provide the nourishment to grow the plants.

Ouyang Zizhen stands five steps away from it and wishes he could get closer. And—he could. He really could. But there are reasons he shouldn’t.

He does not think about the reasons. He simply turns around and walks away.

When Nie Huaisang next comes to visit, he expresses his concern over Ouyang Zizhen’s continually declining health. “Winter is coming soon,” he says, “and I was going to let this continue on but…I can’t trust you to take care of yourself enough to stay alive. I’ll be bringing you to the Unclean Realms in a few weeks, okay?”

“Okay.” Ouyang Zizhen does not want to go anywhere near the Unclean Realms. He never would, if he had the choice. Nie Huaisang is not giving him a choice.

Nie Huaisang squints at him. “You…take care of yourself. I know you may not have noticed, but you’re going to experience serious health problems at this rate. Like…like death.” His eyes are far away as he says it.

Ouyang Zizhen knows. He just doesn’t particularly care, and—that’s the first time he’s admitted it to himself. I don’t care if I die. As he glances around the cabin, finding it empty, devoid of Wen Yuan’s warmth and any real indication that an actual person lives in it, he realizes…would anyone care? The only person he can think of would be Nie Huaisang, and he’s a Sect Leader who almost definitely has better things to do.

Things Ouyang Zizhen is keeping him from. He really has screwed up, hasn’t he?

He lets himself agree with Nie Huaisang, and then promptly stops listening to anything the man has to say. Either their time is up or Nie Huaisang gives up because he eventually leaves.

Ouyang Zizhen does not want to go to the Unclean Realms. He has four weeks to stop that from happening.

Two weeks in, he finds Wen Yuan sitting on Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi’s grave. He knows that it’s not the real Wen Yuan, just a figment of his imagination, because the real Wen Yuan is much too kind to give him a look of such disdain, even if he deserves it.

Ouyang Zizhen stands four steps away from the grave, and wishes he could get closer. “I’m insane,” he says.

Wen Yuan frowns at him. “You’re only realizing that now?”

“No.”

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

Talking to a figment of his imagination because there’s no one else left. “Watching over the grave.”

“You think you have the right, even after you couldn’t get them a coffin?”

Ouyang Zizhen sits down, scowling. “No one’s gonna stop me.” He hates this Wen Yuan with a burning passion, but this Wen Yuan is actually just Ouyang Zizhen, so basically it’s a roundabout way of saying he hates himself. He needs to start getting to the point quicker.

“Yeah—you’ve gotten rid of anyone who could.”

Ouyang Zizhen looks away. “Don’t tell me things I already know.”

“Then accept them.”

This Wen Yuan is mean and irritable and unwieldy—nothing like the real Wen Yuan. This Wen Yuan even has Ouyang Zizhen’s voice. Ouyang Zizhen wants to shove him into the spiritual grass until he stops being terrible.

He can’t get closer. Wen Yuan laughs.

Three weeks in, Ouyang Zizhen realizes he’s running out of time. Nie Huaisang is going to drag him to the Unclean Realms soon. He needs to stop procrastinating.

He manages to get out of bed at sunrise, cook himself a meal, and pick some berries. It is a good day. Tomorrow, he foresees himself being unable to move at all. It happens in patterns. Ever since he decided that he can’t go to the Unclean Realms, his bouts of having no energy and staring at the ceiling have lessened to two days at a time. Or maybe not. It gets hard to tell sometimes.

He decides to be proactive. He sits two steps away from the grave instead of three. He gets a lot done that day.

***

Ouyang Zizhen’s first companion was a cat named Mimi. Back then he didn’t have any friends, still hiding behind his mother’s robes when faced with those he didn’t know, so when his father got him a pet cat, it became his life.

Mimi was a tiny, tenacious thing that would fill Ouyang Zizhen’s days with laughter.

One night, he slipped Mimi some beef from his own dinner. The next morning, Mimi was dead. She was just as allergic to beef as he was to spiritual plants, and she’d died while no one had noticed.

He himself was very small back then, so he was just sad. He didn’t look into Mimi’s death. Now, he thinks about it more thoroughly. Her throat closed up, her skin got little red bumps, and she died in agonizing asphyxiation. It does not look fun.

But still, he can’t think of anything else. When he stands one step away from the grave, he feels dizzy with adrenalin. Wen Yuan stands right next to him. “So, you’ve made up your mind, huh?”

Ouyang Zizhen ignores him. Wen Yuan continues, “Are you going to leave any problems behind? Sect Leader Nie has been awfully kind to you. Will you become a headache for him? Become a resentful ghost of some sort?”

“No.” He’s absolutely sure of it. There’s not a bit of resentment left in him. He’s empty.

He wonders if Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi would be proud of him for everything that he’s done. Wen Yuan says, “Probably not. Now, go on.”

Ouyang Zizhen doesn’t need to be told twice. He lies down on Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi’s grave, face-down, waiting. Waiting for them to accept him, even if they aren’t proud of him. Waiting for the whispers in his years, like the ones he’d heard while burying them.

Ouyang Zizhen wanted to help them move on. Ouyang Zizhen is too good at his job. Slowly, he can’t breathe, and he feels even emptier than before, because Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi aren’t here for him when he needs them. He really, really wants to see them in his next life. He wants to be their friends again.

When they don’t respond, he tries Wen Yuan, who has also moved on. The ugly caricature that Ouyang Zizhan has created, though, is smiling at him for once. Ouyang Zizhen thinks that he can afford to be selfish for once, and Wen Yuan must agree because he sits down right next to him, and when Ouyang Zizhen is finally no longer able to breathe, he can pretend he has a friend right next to him.

He’s not very good at pretending.

(Maybe this is what Lan Jingyi and Jin Ling and Wen Yuan and Mimi felt like when they died: alone. Empty. Unloved.

Ouyang Zizhen really has screwed up.)

#mdzs #mdzs fanfic #ouyang zizhen #oyzz #lan jingyi #ljy #jin ling #jl #lan sizhui #lsz #nie huaisang #nhs #tw: suicide #angst #like this is pure angst #hurt no comfort #YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED #sssrha fics

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