#or ha ha it's cold and wet and we gotta get In The Swamp which sam is whining about and dean's smiling over - which is more what script had

[mlobsters]

~one minute later~

supernatural s1e13 route 666 (w. eugenie ross-leming, brad buckner)

swamp diving for a corpse laden racist truck, totally normal💁‍♂️

[sundaysundaes]

Jealousy

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Fluff, Drama | NC-17 | College AU Summary: It comes as a nice surprise when you saw your ex-boyfriend at your workplace and you thought everything was going to be fine. You both have moved on, right? Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend, Lee Donghyuck, thinks otherwise.

Warnings: rough unprotected sex, oral sex, slight choking, slight dirty talk, this is just pure filth you guys I’m so sorry I had too much feels

It’s the continuation of Before Our Story Began but can still be read separately if you want.

It has been months since you first dated Lee Donghyuck, also popularly known as Lee Haechan, and things were great—more than great, even, but all good things have come to an end at one point. Your relationship with Haechan is still going pretty strong, but now that you have passed the Honeymoon Phase—where it’s all just sex and raw passion—things can sometimes get a little tense.

While he’s been certainly fun and charming for the most times you’ve been together, not to mention adventurous when it comes to sex, Haechan can be really stubborn and selfish that you often start to bicker with him over the simplest of things.

Like yesterday, for example.

“Look, I said I’m sorry!” He whined and you held yourself back from rolling your eyes because that was so him and it wasn’t really cute anymore. Especially after he arrived an hour late at the cafe that he’d asked you to meet a day before.

“I’m not angry,” you stated, emptying the rest of your coffee. On the other side, Haechan’s ice americano was still pretty much full considering he just got there and you had ordered the drink for him an hour before, thinking that he was going to be on time for your date. But no, he was so into the new online game Jaemin had told him about a week ago that he began to lose track of time. It seemed to you that was all he’d been doing for the last few days, and you were fine with giving him some personal space but clearly not if he was wasting your precious time instead. Not everybody is as smart as him when it comes to keeping good grades. Maybe he doesn’t have to study much, but you do.

“You are! You’re totally angry!” He pointed out and you sighed because of course, I’m angry, you idiot, I had to spend an hour by myself doing literally nothing because you asked me to go out when I’m supposed to be working on my papers that’s due tomorrow but you kept yourself in silence. You had to be the adult in the relationship, especially when you’re dating a goddamn brat.

“Whatever.” You placed back your phone—which had been your only companion—into your purse and wore back your coat. “I have to go.”

His eyebrows—his thick, beautiful eyebrows that you love so much (though not that day) were knitted in both desperation and annoyance from how you acted. “Noona!” He wailed, grabbing your hand when you stood up from your seat. “What do you want me to do? If I could go back to the past, I would, but I can’t and you being unreasonably angry like this isn’t—”

“Unreasonably?”

Haechan’s jaw hung slackly on his face when he noticed the anger radiating off your body. You were angry before but not this angry. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”

You clicked your tongue in irritation, pulling your hand out of his grip. “I’ll see you later, Donghyuck.” It was cold, the way you said it, and Haechan sensed that. But being the whiny brat that he was, he just kept on shouting back, gathering people’s attention.

“Can’t we be adults and talk about this—Yah!” When you didn’t answer—or even glanced back at him—he threw his hands in the air, yelling, “You know what? Fine! I don’t really want to hang out with you anyway! In fact, it’s actually better for me if we don’t hang, ever!”

But you already had your feet out of the door.

On the next day, he came by to your dorm at four in the morning, making your roommate groan with a hellish fire burning in her eyes. “If that’s your boyfriend, I am going to kill him.”

“Don’t bother, I will,” you muttered in response before you stepped down from your bed, turned on the lighting (which earned another loud groan from your friend), and reached for the door. Haechan stood there with his hair looking like a bird’s nest, his cheeks reddening from the morning cold, and his eyes bleary from lacking sleep.

“I’m sorry,” he softly said in all of the sincerity he could emit. “I’ve been an asshole.”

“It’s four in the morning, Haechan-ah.”

“I know, but I can’t sleep thinking about what happened before and I don’t think I can before you forgive me.” He did his best pout. It was cute, but not cute enough to wash your vexation away. “Also, it’s raining heavily outside, if you haven’t noticed, so I thought it would add some dramatic effects to my apology.”

“You’re not wet though.”

“Neither were you before you met me,” he joked, wiggling his eyebrows but when he noticed you glaring at him in reticence—oh if looks could kill—he flinched and hastily added, “Sorry, bad timing. I don’t know why I said that. Well, umm, it was kinda cold when I stepped under the rain so I decided to just bring an umbrella with me.” He suddenly seemed like he remembered something. “Oh yeah, can I leave it here? I’ve got an early class today and I don’t really want to carry it with me everywhere.”

That earned another flat stare from you. “You’re not taking any of this seriously, are you?”

“I am! I swear!” He squeaked, shuffling inside his bag before he took out a white box with a red bow wrapped around it. “Look, I brought you some chocolates.”

“I’m on a diet.”

“Well, now, how am I supposed to know?”

“I literally told you that yesterday.” To say he was testing your patience would be an understatement at that point. “Remember? When you arrived late on our date and you asked why aren’t you ordering anything and I said I’m on a fucking diet!”

“Yo, chill, I was just trying to be nice.” Haechan grabbed you by the shoulders, massaging the sore spots and it would probably feel good if you weren’t so pissed-off over his antics. “Also, Noona, don’t you know? Men have a harder time remembering things than women do. And that’s just scientifically speaking, not me.”

You exhaled so loudly into the air, slapping his hands away. “Look, it’s literally four in the morning. Can we talk again when the sun is up? Like normal people?”

“Noona, pleaseeeeee.” He threw his head back in exasperation. “I said I’m sorry! What else do you wa—”

“JUST FORGIVE HIM FOR FUCK’S SAKE! YOU GUYS ARE TAKING FOREVER AND YOU’RE GIVING ME HEADACHES!” Maybe you and Haechan were getting a bit loud, but your roommate was just shouting like she was about to march on a war so you didn’t really have the choice. It was either take your boyfriend’s apology or have your roommate kill both you and your boyfriend at the same time.

Haechan sheepishly and annoyingly smiled at you. “She’s got a point, you know.”

But, of course, he does learn his lesson from time-to-time so things don’t always end up in fights. And Haechan can be considerate, if he wants, noticing the little things that you do. Like when you’re wearing a new skirt (or new underwear, for that matter), giving you his jacket when you sniffle from the cold (as cheesy as that sounds, it does make your heart flutter a bit), or intertwining your fingers together when you’re nervous before your presentation.

Hopefully today this considerate version of his comes out to play again because there’s something you want to talk about with him.

“I think I need to start looking for a part-time job,” you say, sighing contently as he has his lips on your neck, suckling on the soft skin. Your fingers are playing with the soft strands of his hair, unconsciously tugging at them when he brings his tongue into the game. You know it’s not really the best time to have this conversation—especially not when he has his hand under your shirt as you sit on his lap at the back of his car—but with Haechan, it’s almost always like this whenever you’re alone with him so you don’t really have that many options. “I’m running out of money.”

“From dumping too many dead bodies in the swamp?” He chuckles next to your ear, unbuttoning more of your shirt and pushing the fabric off your shoulder. “Babe, I’ve told you,” he mouths against your skin. “You gotta search for a new swamp that’s free of charge—”

“Shut up.” But you’re laughing anyway. This inside joke you two have has become somewhat of a routine—a topic that pops out anytime in any conversation.

You can feel his grin pressing against the sensitive skin below your ear. “Told ya this swamp thing could be our thing.”

“No, I’m serious.” But despite that, you have to hold back a moan when you feel his hand roaming around your chest, his fingers slipping underneath your bra. You can’t tell him exactly why you need this job because you don’t want him to feel sorry for you. But the truth is, your parents back home have been having financial problems and you know how costly your college tuition can get. You just want to help out, even if it’s not much, and try to survive on your own without using your parents’ money. “I need some pocket money.”

Haechan has your earlobe between his teeth, his breathing feels warm and extremely sexy in your ears. “Mmm, for what?”

“To buy personal things.”

“What personal things?”

“Like…” You bite your lower lip, having the hardest time concentrating when he starts to play with your nipple, his thumb brushing against the sensitive bud. “I don’t know, like girl things.”

Haechan suddenly pulls away, looking you straight in the eyes with his own gleaming in excitement. “You mean like a customized dildo?”

“Make-up, Donghyuck.” You flatly stare back. All your sexual excitement from before? Gone. “I mean, make-up.”

“Sure, that too. But,” he insists and you roll your eyes, knowing where this is going. “Have you ever considered playing with a dildo in your spare time? Because I have. I mean, picturing you using it. Not me using it in my ass, oh God, no.”

“Are you done?”

“No, seriously.” It turns out, he’s not finished. And he still has a long way to go, judging by the enthusiastic look in his eyes. “Because I would totally buy it for you if it’s a dildo you need. Or any sex toys, for that matter. No matter how expensive it is, I’ll pay! I’ll save up some money and buy some so we can use them together in the future!”

He’s making it look like he’s talking about buying a house for your future marriage and it’s cute and disgusting at the same time so you stop him by pinching the bridge of his nose. It’s pathetic, the way he whines, but as long as it can stop him from sputtering nonsense, you’ll do it again.

“Why do you need make-up anyway?” He eventually gives up, rubbing his red nose, still wincing from the pain. “You’re already pretty without it.” And it really does sound sincere, the way he says it. Haechan flirts a lot, even when you’ve been together for months, he still does it pretty often. But he does have his sincerity from time to time, just like now, and you can’t help but blush a little because of it.

“Well, I’m more confident with it.”

“Well, of course, you do look smoking hot with your make-up on, don’t get me wrong,” he adds, lazily circling his arms around your waist as he leans his back to the car’s seat. “But you’re beautiful the way you are too. Like, you literally can wear that I woke up like this shirt every morning and you won’t find me complaining.”

“You complained about my morning breath this morning.”

“That you should work on.”

“Asshole.” You push a palm against his face, which he licks playfully like a dog. This is your favorite Haechan, if you have to be honest, with his lips pulled back showcasing a boyish grin, his eyes sparkling as he gazes at you, and his voice sounding light and airy with a hint of teasing in his words. And of course, also with the way he has his hair slightly pushed back, his forehead shown and his eyebrows raised whenever he throws flirty lines at you.

You really should consider yourself lucky to be able to call someone like him, who has the perfect balance of cute and sexy, as your boyfriend.

“I really like you,” you say, abruptly out of nowhere that it surprises you too. Haechan’s laughter stops almost immediately, his eyes searching yours. There’s silence hanging in the air, slowly suffocating you, and you’re about to beg him to say something when he smiles, so gentle and soft, with his hand reaching up to cup your cheek, rubbing comforting circles with his thumb.

“I really like you too,” he says, almost like he’s sighing. His eyes go up-and-down your face, switching from your eyes and your lips. “I like you so much that it drives me crazy sometimes.”

It’s insane how fast he can turn your steady heart rate into something that beats too loudly for your ears. “Okay, stop right there. I can’t with all this cheesiness you’re throwing at me. Let’s just make-out.”

And that sexy smirk of his grows back almost immediately. “I won’t argue with that.”

***

It’s not easy getting a job these days, especially when you don’t really have a set of skills you can be proud of but luckily enough, you’ve found a part-time job as a waiter at a family restaurant nearby. The salary is slightly below your expectation so maybe you have to recalculate your budgeting again but beggars can’t be choosers. You thought it should be enough for now. And the most important thing is, you only have to work three days a week so you can fit in well with your campus’ schedule.

The only remaining problem is your boyfriend because, believe it or not, he demands more time than all of your classes and assignments combined.

“I can’t believe we have our Netflix account renewed like two months ago and yet we haven’t watched anything on it,” Haechan complains, a bag of popcorn on his lap. He’s in his black sweat pants, hair all tousled from lying around on the bed all day. He’s already munching more than he should, even way before you can log in to your Netflix account. “At this point, we’re just throwing our money away.”

“Don’t blame me,” you retort, taking the bowl into your arms so you can climb into his lap, snuggling close to his chest. “I’m not the one who got my dick hard during the first half of literally every movie we decided to watch together.”

“You literally rubbed your ass against my crotch every single time. What a man gotta do in that situation?”

A smile creeps up your face. That you certainly did. It’s just so funny to have him flinch every now and then whenever you move slightly in his arms so you often just exaggerate your movements a bit, sometimes leaning forward in a suggestive way whenever you tried to change the brightness of your MacBook screen—so Haechan could take a good look of your ass—before settling back between his legs, making sure to give him enough friction as you slid down. Or sometimes you just laid your head on his shoulder, pressing a random kiss to his neck, and just went back to watching the screen as if you didn’t do anything. It really didn’t take long before Haechan groaned in exasperation, threw the bowl away, tackled you down to the bed, and pulled your shorts down your legs.

“Should I move away then?” You offer. “We can stay, like, five feet apart from each other as we watch this.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head, pulling you closer again to his chest. “I like to snuggle. You’re warm and you smell really good, it comforts me. Besides, having sex with you is so much better than watching every movie out there.”

“Even better than watching The Kissing Booth?”

“Yah!” The way his cheeks turn scarlet almost immediately is too cute for you to handle. “You promised you wouldn’t make fun of me! See, this is why I—”

You cut him off with a chaste kiss, letting your lips linger on his the way he likes it before you pull away and pat him on the cheek. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. Forgive me?”

Haechan unconsciously juts his lower lip out, just a little. “Fine,” he mutters, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist before he skims his nose along the nape of your neck. “Only because you’re cute,” he whispers.

“Oh right, that reminds me,” you say, closing your eyes as you listen to his breathing. It’s somewhat calming your nerves, after a long day of doing… well, nothing, actually. “I’ll be busy every Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday from now on so we won’t be able to hang out during those days.”

“What?!” He shrieks, almost turning you deaf. “Why?!”

“Because I have my part-time job, didn’t I tell you that before?” You can honestly hear your ears ringing from the loudness of his voice. “Or did you not listen to me again?”

“I can handle it if you work during the weekdays, but on the weekends too?” He’s actually looking pretty upset, though not that you haven’t expected him to be. “That’s our time! How can you do that to me? To us?! This is so not fair!”

You roll your eyes. “Stop being a drama queen. You literally spent the last weekend playing Overwatch at Jaemin’s place.”

“Whoa, hey,” he crows, pulling away from you with both hands raised in the air and forcing you to turn and look at him in the eyes. You do it as you nonchalantly munch on your popcorn, enjoying how dramatic your boyfriend can be at times like this. “Once again, lady,” he stresses on the word, narrowing his eyes at you. “They were holding a very, very important Anniversary Event and that does not happen every day. It’s not like I have any other choice! They were giving out new skins and other rewards!”

“Your choice was to spend your Saturday night with your fingers on your keyboard or in me. That was your choice.”

Haechan opens his mouth to say something, already holding out one finger in the air as if he’s about to make a good excuse but he fails almost immediately when your point begins to sink in his head. “You’re right,” he admits, “I’m sorry. What was I thinking? I should’ve been wiser.”

You pat his hair as you would do to a child. “Look, we can still hang out. I only work during the day, you know. You can always pick me up after work and we can get dinner together or something.”

He pouts, lowering his head as he murmurs, “It’s still not the same, though. I like spending time with you.”

You can feel your heart flutter from the way he says his line so genuinely. “Me too, Haechannie. Let’s just promise to always meet up on the weekends after I’m done with my work.”

The pout still does not falter away but it’s nothing a kiss can’t fix.

***

“Haechannie, I really need to go.” You struggle to slip yourself away from his long arms, holding back a laugh as you do it, and you almost reach the end of his bed but your boyfriend easily hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you back into his chest.

After not seeing each other for five days, you could finally see your boyfriend with his dazzling bright smile in person when he picked you up after work on a Saturday evening. You didn’t realize how much you’d missed him until he snatched you back into his embrace, intoxicating you with his amazing scent and airy laughter that sounds like music to your ears. It was a good thing being separated for a few days like that because Haechan became much more clingy in the most adorable way, following you around like a lovesick puppy. Even during sex, he was all giggly and soft, gently asking you how you feel, whether he was being too fast, or simply just telling you how beautiful you look even when you were pretty much exhausted from work. It was a nice change.

Both of you are still pretty much naked from the morning shower you just took together—or rather, the morning shower you took when suddenly your boyfriend came barging in, greasily saying, “My, my, there’s a naked lady in my shower. This must be my lucky day,” and ended up moaning against your mouth instead of washing the soap off your body.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he says, smiling into the kiss just like you do and you let him part your lips with his, slowly slipping his tongue in and tasting the roof of your mouth. “Oh man, I must be a freak for being so turned on from the fact that you’re wearing my shampoo.”

“You’ve always been a freak,” you snicker, pushing his face away with your palm. “Now, get off me. Jaemin can come back any second.”

“Jaemin’s too busy sucking Jeno’s morning wood, I’m sure. He won’t be back anytime soon.”

“Well, my shift is starting in thirty minutes.”

“Which leaves us twenty-nine minutes and fifty seconds to get each other off and ten seconds for you to get ready.” He lowly chuckles, his voice still sounding quite deep from sleep as he nips against the column of your neck.

“I’m serious…” You can tell that your voice becomes way less convincing. It’s just Haechan feels so warm and he smells so good, you have to literally offer your best effort to deny him and his touches. You’re still in the middle of putting in that so-called effort when you notice he’s sucking on the supple skin, to the point it begins to hurt a little bit. “Don’t suck too hard! You’ll leave bruises and I am not gonna wear a scarf again.”

“Good,” he murmurs against your skin. “So everyone will know you’re mine.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

You sigh, tangling your fingers around his hair, arching your back to press your body closer to him. “You can be too possessive sometimes, do you know that?”

“Any man would if their girlfriend is as pretty as you,” he replies, pulling away from you a little so he can bore his eyes into yours. “Stay with me today.”

As much as you want to, especially with that hooded eyes looking at you with so much passion and desire, you have to be the responsible adult for today. “I can’t, Haechannie.”

“Noona~” His serious demeanor falters, and the whiny brat that he is comes back to the surface again. “Pleaseeee~ I’m lonely and I’m hard, can’t you just be kind to me for just one day?”

“Are you using your aegyo on me to get a quickie? Seriously?”

“What, it’s not working?” He tilts his head to the side, looking at you with that sexy smirk and his eyebrow raised seductively. “I thought aegyo was your thing.”

No, but your goddamn smirk and eyebrow raise surely are. “Fuck, okay, ten minutes. Can we finish in ten minutes?”

“I can guarantee that you will.” His smirk grows wider, licking his lower lip. “But I’m not sure if you can make me.”

“Is that a challenge?” You push him with both hands until he falls back to the bed, with you straddling his lap. “I’m going to make you take your words back, Lee Donghyuck, you better be prepared.”

***

You’ve broken two plates so far, and you’re sure you’re about to be fired if you even do a tiny mistake in the next hour but you try to keep yourself calm and composed and promise yourself to do better. It’s not that you’re a lousy waiter—okay, maybe a bit from the lack of experience—but the restaurant you’re working in can be surprisingly packed during lunch hours and it’s really taking all that you have to carry three porcelain plates on a tray as you walk on high heels that are killing you in every step you take. You often complain about the blisters at the back of your heels when you sit next to Haechan in his car, which usually ends up with him massaging your feet, while mumbling, “See, this is why you should’ve agreed with me when I told you about buying dildos. I would work my ass off to pay for that, and you can just lie around in my room all day.”

You’re getting better at your job the more days go by, and you’re much confident now in talking with customers. You’re already standing pretty in your uniform with a menu book in your arms, ready to greet the next customer but when the front door opens, all of your professionalism just goes straight out of the window.

“No way…” Your jaw hangs loosely on your face, eyes blinking twice in surprise. You can’t believe what you’re seeing. There, walking through the entrance door of the restaurant, is your ex-boyfriend from high school, Jeong Jaehyun. Dressed perfectly in a light blue buttoned-up shirt and a pair of black khaki pants, Jaehyun looks much, much better than how you remembered him to be. His dark hair stands in contrast to his pale skin, his veins appearing along his wrists and you have to remind yourself to stop staring and proceed with your work.

You take hesitant steps to meet him, swallowing your nervous breath and hoping that you don’t look as awkward as you think. You almost trip on your own feet when you notice Jaehyun looking back at you, his eyes widening in surprise before his lips turn upward into that gentle smile that reminds you of how he used to be back in high school. Maybe some things never change.

“Hi,” you greet with an awkward smile on your face.

“Hey.” The way his eyes droop slightly when he sees you feels nostalgic, and perhaps he’s much taller now because you have to look up to meet his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m seeing you. It’s been a while.”

“You’re right,” you reply, chuckling a little to mask how tense you really are. “Would you like me to take you to your seat?”

“Oh no, I won’t be long,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “I just wanted to talk to the manager for a sec.”

You furrow your eyebrows, trying your best not to get distracted with the way his hair ruffles almost perfectly under his touch. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, just wanted to see the latest financial report.” He smiles, showcasing his teeth. “My grandfather owns this place, and I’m helping him take care of the business while he’s overseas.”

Fuck. “A-ah, is that so?” Meeting him once as a customer is already painfully awkward enough for you to bear, but actually working for him?!

“I won’t bother you, I promise,” Jaehyun immediately adds, “I wasn’t aware that you work here, actually. Has it been long since you started?”

“About two weeks.” You fidget on your feet, having the hardest time making eye contact with him. “And I’m not very good at this.”

“Wait, are you the one who keeps breaking plates?”

You wince. “Yes. Can you please not fire me? I’ll pay for them, I promise.”

And Jaehyun laughs, his deep voice booming into the air. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll pay for them myself if that’s what it takes to keep you around.” He says his lines so naturally that it surprises you both when the words finally sink in. “I—I mean,” he clears his throat, “It’s just really been a while since I last saw you so I thought we should really catch up on things. How are you?”

“I’m—”

“Boss,” your manager suddenly comes to interrupt, carrying some paper sheets in her arms. “These are the reports you wanted. I can e-mail you the rest if you need more details.” And when she sees you standing next to Jaehyun with the worst looking smile you’ve ever had on your face, she squints her eyes menacingly at you, “What did you do this time?”

“She didn’t do anything,” Jaehyun hastily answers before you can even form a word of protest. “She’s a dear friend of mine. It’s been a while since we talked, so do you mind if I borrow her for a while?”

Your manager seems utterly shocked and you kind of dance happily in your mind because she’s been kind of mean to you—though you were the one who gave her the reasons to be—and seeing her speechless, only able to mumble out a small, “S-sure,” before she trails away back to her office like this becomes the highlight of your day.

“Thank you,” you say to him, not sure why but it feels right.

“Let me know if she bullies you again,” he says, gently patting you on the head and you can feel his fingers slowly brush your bangs off your temple. It seems like he’s unaware of what he’s doing and you can understand why because that’s just his habit, even from the time when you hadn’t started dating yet. You remember the time when he said he liked your eyes—he thought they were beautiful, and hiding them under your bangs like that was a shame.

You take a step back, looking anywhere but his eyes. “Umm…”

“Right, sorry,” he fumbles with his hands, the tip of his ears growing red. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Can we just sit and talk?”

You smile, genuinely this time. He really hasn’t changed despite his appearance. “Sure.”

***

Jaehyun doesn’t visit the restaurant every day and you don’t really expect him to, but when he does, he always spares some time to talk to you privately—usually during your break time so your manager can stop throwing ice daggers from her eyes at you.

“I’ve tried to call you after graduation,” he confesses as he takes you out for some coffee at the nearest cafe. Your shift is over and you’re waiting for Haechan to pick you up but he’s running late because he has to take a quiz that he missed from skipping the class the previous week—you guess it had something to do with him pulling an all-nighter playing Overwatch again—and you told him to take his time.

“You did?”

“Yeah. Several times, actually, but I couldn’t get connected.”

“Maybe you called after I lost my phone,” you reply, taking a sip of your hot latte and wincing when it nearly scalds your tongue. “I had to change my number. I lost my contacts and everything.”

“That makes sense. Would it be okay if I ask for your numbers now?”

“Only for business purposes,” you tease, and he grins back, almost boyishly.

“Only for business purposes,” he confirms, “Just so I can give you a heads-up when I’m about to fire you.”

You gasp, half-amused, half-terrified. “Please tell me you’re joking.” And he only responds with another laugh. Talking with Jaehyun is easy and comforting, and he really listens to what you’re saying like a loving older brother taking care of his sister. It’s a nice change considering it’s always you who have to act like the mature one when having a conversation with Haechan—not that it isn’t good. It just can get quite tiring after some time.

Jaehyun is in the middle of walking you back to your workplace when he tells you stories about the things he did after graduation, and how he’s planning to continue with his study overseas to get a master’s degree in business management as soon as he’s done with his work here. You’re so entranced with his story that you barely notice your boyfriend waiting with his back pressed against the side of his car, eyes busy staring at his phone screen.

“Haechannie, you’re here!” You run to his spot, a grin spreading wide on your face before you lean up and kiss his cheek.“When did you get here?”

“Noonaaaaa,” he pouts, voice becoming whiny as usual. Compared to how he acts, he’s dressed maturely in a white shirt and a black leather jacket, his silver necklace hanging low on his neck. It takes you a good five seconds to ogle at his amazing looks while telling your heart not to get too excited. At least not until you get back at the dorm so you can rip that shirt off him with your own hands. “I’ve been calling you three times already. Where have you been?”

“You have?” You immediately check on your phone, noticing that yes, in fact, he did call you three times. You didn’t notice before because your phone was on silent. “I’m sorry, I forgot to switch it back after work. Did you wait long?”

“A bit,” he pushes his bottom lip out but it soon turns into a cheeky grin. “But nothing a kiss can’t fix.”

“Haechannie.” You pat him softly on his cheek. “We’ve got company.” And at that, he begins to widen his line of sight—because he usually just focuses on you and forgets his surroundings—and spots Jaehyun standing a few meters behind you with his hands buried deep within the pockets of his pants.

“Oh,” he comments, acting nonchalant though you notice by the slight raise of his eyebrow that he’s already annoyed by his presence. “Who are you?”

It’s kind of rude to suddenly ask for his name, especially in the cold tone Haechan is using and Jaehyun’s lips twitch at his words. “Jeong Jaehyun.”

“Well, Jeong Jaehyun,” Haechan says with mockery on his tone, straightening his posture and you wonder whether it’s because he feels slightly inferior to Jaehyun’s height. “My girlfriend and I would like some privacy from now on, so if you can just run along now, that’d be great.”

“Hey!” You slap his shoulder, gasping in disbelief before you turn around to face the other man. “I’m sorry, he can be quite rude sometimes but I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

“Meant it with all my heart.”

“Be quiet.” And even Haechan can tell for his own good that he shouldn’t push your buttons further than that.

“It’s okay, I have to go anyway,” Jaehyun casually says, smiling angelically like how he always does though his eyes don’t really play along. “Your boyfriend is cute. How old are you? Does your mom know you’re still playing outside at this hour?”

Oh my God, not you too. You immediately grab Haechan’s hand to stop him before he flings himself forward and throws an arm toward the other man. You can see him clenching his jaw, almost baring his teeth when Jaehyun laughs quietly to himself, saying, “I’m just kidding. Have a good night, you two,” before he walks back to the restaurant, most likely to have another business talk with the manager.

“Who the fuck does he think he is?” Haechan blurts out, his eyebrows knitted together in annoyance. You stroke his arm, trying to soothe him down but what he does is relocating his glare on you instead, almost yelling, “Why were you with him?  How many times have you guys seen each other? And why on earth did you take his side?!”

You’re too tired to care, to be honest, let alone answering him. You’re also suffering from the cold of the night, wanting desperately to climb into Haechan’s car and put on the heater to warm yourself up. “I’ll explain on our way back,” you sniffle, squeezing his hand. “Can we get inside the car? Please? I’m freezing.”

You can tell he’s still very much upset but his gaze softens when he sees puffs of air flowing from your chapped lips and your nose turning red. He sighs into the air but opens the door for you. He doesn’t really talk until he has his engine started, and you can practically see steam coming out from his ears as he drives into the night.

“Have you had dinner yet?” You ask, trying to keep as casual as you can.

“No.”

“Should we order something—”

“I’m not hungry.”

“O… kay…” You hold yourself back from sighing too loud. He’s testing your patience again, but it’s fine, you’re the mature one. You can handle this. “We’ll just go straight back to my place then. I’m sure I can make you something. I think I still have some pasta with—”

“I think I’m just gonna go back to my room right after I drop you off.” His words don’t hurt as much as the tone he’s using. You’re trying to patch things up even though you’re sure you haven’t done anything wrong but he’s not even trying to apologize about how rude he acted earlier. You can’t help but snap, probably because your fatigue is taking its toll. You figure you can act mature any other time, but not today.

“Okay, what is wrong with you?” You can feel your voice rising and it forces him to sneaks a glance at you but only for a split second before he brings back his eyes on the road again. “I’ve been trying to be nice to you but you keep on acting like a brat—”

“Oh, of course, now you have a problem with me being a brat.” He grits his teeth, sinking his nails into the steering wheel. “I think we both know that’s pretty much how I act around you—around anyone, really—and if I remember it clearly, you said being a brat was part of my charm. That was, of course, before you met this oh-so-mature Jung fucking Jaehyun and suddenly, now, I’m fucking annoying.”

“I didn’t just meet him, Hyuck.” You exhale loudly, rolling your eyes. “I’ve been friends with him since high school.”

He clicks his tongue in aggravation, quietly adding, “Friends that fucked each other whenever your parents weren’t around, I’m sure.” And he probably didn’t mean his words to be heard because he just said them out of spite, but you did hear him and it makes your blood sparks in fury.

“Actually, yes,” you jeer back, “We did. He was the one who took my virginity away, just so you know and—WHOA!”

The sudden turn of the wheels makes you yelp and scramble to wrap your fingers tightly around your seatbelt as if you were hanging for dear life, and Haechan suddenly stomps his feet on the brakes, messily parking his car on the side of the street and earning a lot of angry car honks from the drivers behind him in return.

“What?!” He shouts, eyes wide, completely ignoring the passerby or the fact that you’re still trying to catch your breath. “You had sex with him?!”

“Once, Donghyuck, Jesus Christ!” You almost yank every strand of your hair out of your head. “Just once! And I never did that with anyone else until I met you!”

“I can’t believe you never told me this! And now you just hang around with him behind my back?!”

“What’s there to tell?! It’s in the past, way back when I didn’t even know your name. It’s not like you tell me things like this too. I don’t have problems with you sleeping with hundreds of girls before you met me.”

The sudden silence that surrounds you snap you back to reality and you regret everything you just said because you know you didn’t mean it. Well, it certainly has been bugging you for quite some time whenever you think about how easy and casual he’s always been when it comes to sex—not to mention how experienced he is—so you can’t help but wonder. You do understand that it’s not fair blurting about it to him like this, though. Especially not in this situation.

And the way he just suddenly becomes mute almost makes you shudder.

“Hyuck, I didn’t mean—”

“So that’s how you think of me?” He asks, voice low and deep. “Is that the reason why you’re seeing him? Because you don’t trust me?”

“Oh my God, Donghyuck,” you almost scream from all this frustration you’re venting out. “This is getting out of hand. Okay, first, that was wrong of me to say that and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of it. And second, stop being so jealous—I was only out with him to get some coffee. We no longer have feelings for each other, I can assure you that.”

“Yeah,” he snorts, “Sure. Whatever.”

“Hyuck, he’s my boss! I was just being polite—”

“Well, that’s just fucking great, isn’t it? No wonder you keep insisting on taking this job. It’s not even about the money now, is it?” He slams his hand against the steering wheel, groaning out, “I’m so fucking stupid,” before he throws his head to the side, glaring at the scenery outside his window instead of you.

There’s silence hanging in the air again and you take a deep breath to calm yourself as much as you can because you know where this is going. You just hope you’re wrong. “Why does it sound like you’re accusing me of cheating on you?”

“Because maybe deep down, that’s what you’re doing?” He’s not even looking at you when he says it, but the bitterness in his voice is clear and it’s loud enough to finally tweak the final string of patience you have left in you.

So you grab your purse, carry your jacket in one arm and step down from the car. “I’m taking a cab,” you say and when he still doesn’t look at you, you add, “Come talk to me when you’re mature enough to have this conversation.”

And not knowing your own strength, you slam the door until his ears begin to ring.

***

It’s the worst fight you’ve ever had, not just with him but with anyone else too. You’re more the type that avoids situations like this—one that says sorry even when you know you’re not doing anything wrong just to reduce the tension, so this fight you’re having with Haechan has been ruining your mood for a whole damn week since day one. And the fact that he doesn’t come to apologize or even send a text or two is driving you insane.

You can’t help but to dwell in his way of thinking, trying to see whether it’s really your fault that this is happening. Yes, maybe you should’ve explained better, but he wasn’t really giving you the chance to do it, was he? And yes, maybe you should’ve told him about you hanging out with Jaehyun every now and then or the fact that he’s your boss but you just couldn’t find the right timing before. Well, it’s certainly too late to start now.

Should I call him…?

Because you miss him. You miss Haechan so badly. You miss his bratty smile, you miss his annoying whine, you miss his stupid dazzling smile, you miss his scent, his kiss, his embrace—everything about him. You didn’t realize how close he was to you—already becoming a big part of your life—and you just really notice it now when he’s completely out of your sight.

“Fuck this.” You’re in the middle of searching his name in your contacts and about to press dial when suddenly you get his message.

Can we meet tomorrow?

It’s really weird that a simple text can make your heart race and almost send you jumping in delight. Trying to keep your heart rate back to normal, you type back.

Of course. What time? Where?

You wait for his reply and it seems like the time suddenly slows down where seconds feel like hours. You nibble at your bottom lip, hesitating at first but sending it anyway.

I miss you, Haechannie.

Your heart starts hammering against your ribcage again. A lot of thoughts begin entering your mind at the same time, making you worry about what if he wants to meet me because he wants to break up with me? What if he doesn’t miss me and he’s grossed out with my text? What if—

His reply arrives with a slight ding coming from your phone, and with shaky hands, you open his text.

I’ll text you the time and place tomorrow morning.

There’s a disappointment that bubbles up inside your chest but the next text from him erases all of that almost instantly.

I miss you too, Noona. Good night.

And you think that maybe tonight, you can finally have a good sleep.

***

“Can you fill in for tonight?”

It’s the first thing your manager said to you the second you stepped inside the restaurant. You haven’t even taken your jacket yet, and it’s really rare to see your manager walking around the place on a Sunday morning but here she is, and she’s already ordering things around.

Your mouth suddenly feels dry. “Pardon?”

“There will be a banquet tonight for the Jeong family and we need every waiter we can get. I know you’re lousy at your job but Jaehyun-Sajangnim seems to like you so I hope you can stick longer for a few hours.”

“I…” You wet your lower lip anxiously. “I can’t. I already promised someone—”

“Look, this is not a request. It’s an order.” She seems like she’s running out of patience. “But I’ll pay handsomely for your time. I think you need the money to pay for those two plates you broke anyway. You know how expensive they are.”

You wince. “Yes, Ma’am.” It’s not like she’s leaving you with any other option. You figure you can call Haechan later during your break time. It’s still not confirmed anyway, your date with him. You’ll think of a way to make it up to him.

It’s only for a few hours anyway, right?

I’ll just text him now. You dip your hand into your purse, trying to find your iPhone as fast as you can. You run your fingers along the screen, typing letters with your thumbs.

Haechannie, something came up and I have to stay longer at work. I’ll see you later tonight at your place and we can talk then.

“What are you doing standing around like that?” Your manager suddenly shouts and you almost drop your phone in surprise. “Go and change your uniform now, we’re opening the place in ten minutes!”

“Y-yes, Ma’am!” You fumble with your steps, throwing your phone back into your purse in a hurry. You inwardly sigh. Today is going to be a long day.

I’m sorry, Haechannie.

***

“Great work today,” Jaehyun says when most of his family members have left the restaurant. You didn’t realize how big and wealthy his family was so it amazed you that one family could occupy the whole seatings they have in this place. There were more than thirty people in the room before and you had to change your high heels into a pair of flat shoes so you can run from one table to another while carrying several plates at once.

“Not really, I almost broke another plate today,” you respond with a sigh, which earns a low chuckle in return. Jaehyun has his back leaning against the wall just an arms reach away from the front door, waiting for you to finish shoving all your belongings into your bag before he curls his fingers around the doorknob and twists it open.

“Thanks,” you say, almost sheepishly because it looks weird, no matter how you see it—your boss is opening the door for you. “Stop being so nice, Jae, you’re making other staff jealous.”

“But I do this to all my staff,” Jaehyun snickers, following after your trail.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Hey,” he calls, placing his hand on your shoulder so you’ll stop on your track and turn around to face him. “Thank you.”

You raise your eyebrow questioningly. “For what?”

“For acting like how you normally do around me,” he explains, smiling a little bit bashfully. “For not being so awkward after our break-up.”

“Oh… Well…” You try to focus your gaze somewhere else, suddenly finding the  silver watch you wear around your wrist entertaining. “It’s been years since then, I think we both have moved on by now, right?”

There’s a thick tension growing between the two of you and you almost beg him to say something before it starts to suffocate you.

“Sure,” he says, but the pressure in his tone speaks otherwise. You look up to meet his eyes, expecting him to smile and bring another topic into the conversation, but all he does is just gazing at you with these gentle, almost longing eyes that make your heart stops for a split second.

You know this can’t go any further.

“Well, uhh,” Jaehyun clears his throat, running a hand through his hair, perhaps feeling rather embarrassed himself. “It’s already late. Do you want me to escort you back to your place?”

And you find it hard to form a sentence, still somewhat baffled from the way he’s acting around you, and you’re so unfocused that when another voice enters your hearing, it shocks you down to your spine.

“I’ll be taking her from here,” Haechan says, startling you both and you turn around so fast on your heel to face him that you almost stumble forward. Your boyfriend is standing with one hand carrying a black suit and another one digging inside the pocket of his pants, dressed nicely in a white buttoned up with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He has the top two buttons of his shirt loosened, showing a glimpse of his collar bones and the silver necklace he usually hangs around his neck. His short brown hair is parted to the side, slightly pushed back to showcase his temple. You’ve never seen him dressed so sharp and elegantly before since the first day you met him and you can’t help but feel a little bit starstruck from the way he looks. But you soon realize that there must be a reason why he’s so dressed up and you feel terrible because you don’t know what it is.

What day is it today?

“Haechan—”

The way he grabs your hand shows how agitated he actually is despite the calm facade he places on his face, and it’s glaringly possessive the way he drags you to match his step on the way to his car but you follow him without a word, not even sparing a glance at Jaehyun who’s looking at him as if he just stole something important from him. Haechan opens the door to the passenger seat, and you climb in with your heart thrumming loud against your chest.

Haechan walks to the other side without making eye contact with Jaehyun but even at that point, your ex-boyfriend doesn’t dare to say a word or make a move, probably because he knows he has no right to do so. Haechan does not look angry and neither does he act like it but the quietness that fills the space between you, even when his car engine is blaring noisily outside, speaks louder than everything that he does.

“Umm.” You suddenly feel parched, your throat burning with every word you try to form. “T-thank you for picking me up.” You’re about to flinch from how terrible you just sounded. “I thought you were waiting at the dorm. Didn’t you get my text?”

It takes a few seconds that feel like forever for him to answer. “I don’t know, did you send me one?” He simply asks, voice flat and nonchalant, as he switches the gears of his car.

Did I not? You gulp in horror and begin to frantically search for your phone in your purse. Your heart almost leaps out from your chest when you see your phone is dead, probably ran out of battery sometimes during your hectic hours. You didn’t check on it before because you thought that Haechan most likely had seen your text and was waiting for you at the dorm, so you decided to just run in a hurry without texting him that your shift had ended. You were also busy talking with Jaehyun and felt it wouldn’t be polite for you to check on your phone while he was around.

But, as you connect your phone to your power bank, turning it on, and run your thumbs along the screen, you notice one thing: you didn’t send him anything.

“I’m—” A shiver runs down your spine. “I’m sure I texted you before—why—” You remember how your manager suddenly interrupted you when you were about to send the text. You must have forgotten to press send, and seeing how there are suddenly a lot of messages coming to your phone at once from him makes your heart drop to the floor.

I’ve made a reservation at Boccalino at 7 p.m. I know how you’ve always wanted to go there. Wear something nice.

Where are you now? Are you still at work? Do you want me to pick you up?

You’re probably busy at work. I’ll just see you at our table, okay? Don’t be late.

I haven’t heard from you. Where are you? I’m on my way to the restaurant to make sure our reservation is still on.

All my calls are going straight to voicemails. Where are you?

You’re an hour late. Where are you?!

You can feel the tremble in your fingertips as you hold your phone, your eyes running back and forth in horror. Haechan still doesn’t speak a word, focusing his eyes entirely on the road that lays in front of him.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” Even though you know you’re already so out of line and probably won’t be forgiven anytime soon, you still apologize because what else can you say? “I didn’t realize my phone was dead. And I was sure I’d texted you but—”

“It’s fine,” he says as he props his elbow against his window, rubbing the side of his temple with his fingertips. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

And with that, the conversation ends. Your thoughts are running fast, trying to come up with a better apology or find a way to patch things up but you can’t. The more plans you make, the more you hate yourself for being so stupid and ruin this whole thing for him. The drive back to your dorm is filled with nothing but silence, and you spend the entire time counting the street light that glows faintly on the side of the road.

You do notice something, though. Haechan’s phone keeps on making little sounds, notifying him that he’s receiving text messages and chats. There was also a phone call which he ignored even when the street light was red, only saying, “I’ll just call back later,” when you nervously ask him about it.

It’s when he walks you back to your dorm, that you begin to gain the courage to ask about it. “You’re getting awfully a lot of texts today.”

“They just want to congratulate me,” he says, tucking his hands in his pockets so you can’t take a hold of any of them as you walk beside him.

“On what?”

“My birthday.”

You wish the earth could just swallow you whole because how fucking ignorantly stupid can you be? It’s the sixth of June today, and you were so busy dealing with the fight and minding your own business that you forgot the birthday of the most important person in your life right now. You can feel how your legs almost give out under your weight, your head’s spinning.

And apparently, you’re doing it again, so lost in your own thoughts that Haechan has to say, “We’re here,” to snap you back to reality. You’re now standing gawkily in front of the door to your room, palms getting sweaty from how nervous you are. Haechan murmurs something about seeing you later and you’re about to burst into tears from how terrible you feel for him so you hastily grab him by his wrist, fingers almost sinking into his skin from how desperate you’re being.

“Stay with me,” you beg with quivers in your voice. “Please, just—I need to talk to you.”

Haechan stares at you with cold eyes, his jaw clenching slightly. But he doesn’t pull back his arm and follows your trail with heavy steps as you step inside your room. He closes the door behind him and leans his back against it, still not saying anything.

You’re so occupied with trying to form a coherent sentence that you forget to be thankful about how your roommate is away for the weekend again, providing you the opportunity to have the entire room for yourself. You decide to not make any excuses and apologize for every little dumb thing you’ve been doing for the whole day—no, for a whole week even, since the time your fight started. But no matter what you say, Haechan is staring at you with lifeless eyes, as if he’s just too tired to listen—as if he just no longer cares.

And that scares the life out of you.

“Hyuck, please,” you whisper, closing the distance between you until you can feel his warm breath caressing your cheek. You have your palm pressing against the side of his face, “Say something.” You know it’s not right, but you lean in for a kiss. It’s not just because you’re desperate to pull an emotion out of him; it’s more because you miss him so terribly so, it’s driving you crazy.

Haechan has his eyes closed by instinct but he doesn’t kiss back, only letting your lips linger on him, sharing his breath. And though it feels like there’s a javelin slowly sinking into your chest, you try again, kissing him with more passion, hooking your arm around his neck to pull him closer. Haechan tears himself away, his gaze turning dark as he stares at you and you look at him back with desperation in your eyes.

“Haecha—”

It’s like something snaps inside him and he suddenly no longer has control over his own free will, because Haechan is now pushing your body against the door, slamming your spine against the surface none too gently with his hands on each side of your head, lips chasing after yours. You let out a gasp, both from the shock and the pain that stings from the back of your head, and he takes the opportunity to kiss you deeper, tongue delving in to explore the inside of your mouth. His fingers trail down from your cheeks to your jaw, before they rest on the sides of your neck, his fingertips probing against your veins. You’re not sure whether he does it unconsciously from the sheer excitement or something else but the way his hand is holding you by the neck, his fingers low key choking you make your adrenaline runs faster.

He doesn’t give you the chance to process every single thing that’s happening, or even breathe, for that matter. The next thing you know, he already has his hands running down to your thighs, pulling them up so you have no other choice but to tangle your legs around his waist and groan when he presses your hips together. Hearing the sound of his name tumbling down your lips in a desperate, needy moan, Haechan groans at the back of his throat, his hands moving up to palm your breasts before they start to struggle with your shirt.

You’re doing the same thing, just as eager to get him out of his white shirt so you can latch your lips on his smooth sun-kissed skin. But unlike you who struggle to unbutton his shirt one by one, Haechan’s patience is wearing thin so he ends up just ripping your uniform, buttons clattering down to the floor.

“Wait, Hyuck—” You’re forced to swallow whatever it is you’re trying to say when Haechan sinks his teeth down to the skin that connects your neck to your shoulder, pushing the fabric of your shirt down to expose more of your bare skin. Your whole body shudders, clutching to him with every strength you have. It hurts, the way he bites and nibbles along your sensitive skin, but at the same time, it sends electricity down to every inch of your body.

“Do you have any idea how fucking pissed I am right now?” He says in a low, dangerous voice as he gnaws around your earlobe. “Turn around.”

With his nails sinking into your hips, he forces you to turn on your heel, pressing the side of your face against the door and tears your shirt away from your body. He doesn’t immediately take off your bra like he usually does, and instead focusing first on slipping his fingers underneath the band, thumbs glossing over your hardened nipples as he applies wet kisses on your nape. You almost let out a sob when his hand travels south, raking his fingers against your stomach before he takes off your skirt in such a hurry, leaving you in nothing but your black stockings and your laced panties.

Your entire body jolts when he slips a hand between your legs, rubbing you over your underwear before he suddenly pushes the fabric down and runs his fingertips along your folds.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he whispers in your ear, his breath fanning your neck. “I’m surprised you like being treated like this.” But when you cry out his name, begging for him to stop teasing you already, he chuckles lowly. “I should’ve done this sooner.”

You’re sure that you’re just reacting this way because it’s him and not anybody else and you want to tell him that but you can barely form a word with him rubbing his fingertips along your clit. “You’re actually quite dirty, aren’t you?” He brings two of his fingers to your lips, forcing you to suck them into your mouth and you oblige, knowing what he’s intending to do. You coat them with as much saliva as you can before he brings his hand down to your heat again, this time inserting one finger into your entrance with another one following soon after.

You hiss his name under your breath, becoming a little lightheaded from all this sensation you’re having at once. “What do you want me to do?” He asks tauntingly, knowing he’s in charge of everything.

“Fuck me,” you gasp, eyes tightly shut at the feeling of him finger fucking you to oblivion. “I want you inside me, Hyuck, fuck.”

“Maybe in a few minutes.” His teasing tone is back but it’s different. It’s almost menacing this time, somewhat heartless. He picks up the pace, pumping his fingers in and out of you until you find yourself biting your lip to contain your sob. “Do you know what I want?” He carves his words against your skin, taking a handful of your hair with his other free hand and yanking it back so you can’t help but face the ceiling. His lips are hovering dangerously close against your ear. “I want to fuck you raw. We’ve never done that before, have we? I want to come inside you—want to see my cum dripping down your thighs when I’m finished with you.”

Fuck. You almost cry from the temptation. “Then do it. I don’t care just—” You arch your back, sinking yourself down to his fingers, moaning against the side of his neck. “Please, just fuck me, Hyuck.”

“Good girl,” he replies and you can hear the smirk in his voice but you don’t care. He can be as cocky as he wants for the night because you secretly like it. You like how confident he is during sex, how passionate and sexy he can get, and how desperate and uncontrolled he becomes at the end. You can feel your stomach flip at the anticipation, especially when you hear him working on his belt, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down only low enough for him to free himself.

“Let me fuck your mouth first,” he demands and you find yourself succumbing to his orders, turning around to face him before you drop to your knees, the tip of his cock protruding against your lips.

Haechan is still holding himself back, you’re sure, because he lets you take your own pace at first but his dominating persona comes back almost immediately when you only give him tentative licks against his slit. “Open up,” he orders, his fingers finding home in your hair and you loosen up your jaw to take him deeper.

Tears begin to form in the corner of your eyes from how hard he’s hitting the back of your throat but you try to keep up. He moves his hips, enjoying the warmth of your mouth. When you feel him twisting his fingers around the strands of your hair, you look up to see his expression. Haechan has his head thrown back in pleasure, his lips parted in a silent moan and you hum proudly to yourself when he brings his eyes down to meet yours. They’re glazed with lust and he’s so sexy like this with his breathing ragged, soft moans flowing like music to your ears. And he’s probably feeling the same about you, from the way he pushes the bangs out of your eyes, taking every detail of your face as you hollow your cheeks, swallowing when his taste falls upon your tongue.

“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath, “You look so perfect like this. You’re so fucking sexy, do you know that?” You hum, running your tongue along the prominent vein, giving kitten licks around the tip. Something gleams in his eyes and suddenly he commands you to stand up and pushes your body against the wall again, face first.

“Do you know how excited I was for today?” He grabs you by the waist, pushing his palm against your shoulder blades so you’ll bend lower, and positions himself against your entrance from behind. “I wanted to celebrate my birthday with you—just with you, Noona—even after our fight, I still wanted to spend it with you—”

“I know,” you gasp, thighs trembling when he rubs his tip against your folds. “I’m sorry—I was too busy with—“

“With work?” He taunts, “Or with that guy you’ve been seeing?”

“No—” A sudden yelp flows out of your mouth when he abruptly pushes himself entirely inside of you in one quick motion, his nails digging into the skin of your hips. Haechan moans a tad louder, much breathier, with his eyebrows knitted together in ecstasy. He’s more sensitive now since he’s not using a condom, directly feeling how wet and hot you are around him, how every clench makes him lose his mind and you can feel him twitching inside you. “Haechan—wait—”

He thrusts forward with such brute force, you find yourself pressed against the door. The dorm is quiet and with the way he’s slamming his hips against yours, the door making rhythmic banging noises against its frames, you’re sure you’re going to be noticed sooner or later.

“The bed—” You gasp, searching for the hands he has on your hips. “Let’s move to the bed—”

“Later,” he groans, his mind sinking in the way your heat is enveloping him.

“People can—” You have your eyes tightly shut when his thrusts get stronger. “They can hear us, Hyuck—”

He tangles his hand around your locks, making a messy ponytail out of them so he can yank on your hair as he rocks his hips faster. “I don’t fucking care,” he growls, “Let everyone know you’re mine.”

It feels fucking amazing the way he’s all breathless and rough, fucking you senselessly as if the world is ending, and it’s not long before your legs start to give up on you, quivering under the sensation.

“Fuck,” Haechan takes a sharp intake of breath, pulling you back against him when you’re about to fall. “Tired already, babe?” His chuckles are unfamiliar to your ears, as if he was mocking instead of teasing but you can’t really comment on it because he’s now pushing you down to the floor, forcing you to stay on all fours. “Now, now, what do we do?” He asks, spreading your thighs but holds your ass firmly in the air. “I’m just getting started.”

Every thrust of his hip feels like fire running all over your body and you can’t believe how good he is at hitting that particular spot deep inside you. You bite your lower lip to keep your voice down and Haechan notices it so he leans close, his chest pressing against your spine and you feel his lips and teeth caressing the crook of your neck as he speaks.

“Stop holding back your voice.” His voice sounds sultry, almost sinful to your ears. “I’ve told you before, right? I like hearing you say my name when we do this. Let me hear you moan.”

You shake your head. “I don’t want anyone to hear—“

“Well,” he doesn’t even let you finish. “I guess I’ll just have to force it out of you then.”

He slows down his pace, and instead of giving you fast, shallow thrusts, he focuses his strength on making each thrust hard and deep. You can feel your breathing being knocked out of your lungs, your toes curling in pleasure and if he keeps doing this, you know you’re not gonna last long. Your orgasm hits you so hard, a whimper falling from your mouth the way he likes it, and your body begins to shake.

Haechan laughs quietly against your ear. “You came, didn’t you? It feels so good—you feel so good around my cock.” He grabs you by the chin and roughly angles your head to face him. He kisses you hard, leaving you even more breathless than you already are before he says, “It’s my turn now.”

Haechan flips you to your back, spreading your legs wide as he sits on his knees, holding your ankles in the air like how he did the first time you had sex with him. Maybe it’s his favorite position, almost splitting your body in half, and seeing your face and your breasts bouncing up and down with every movement of his hips. You’re still dazed, reeling in the afterglow when Haechan pushes back into you again without warning, his eyes half-lidded in pleasure, his lips parted forming your name between his breathy moans.

“I’ll never get tired of how you look when I fuck you like this,” he says, smirking in the sexiest way you’ve ever seen him do. “You’re so goddamn irresistible, you know that?”

It’s frightening how different and rough he’s being right now, and you’re about to cry out because you miss him—you miss the way he used to be. The adorable, annoying little tease that he was. How can you bring him back?

“Haechannie,” you call out, voice soft and quiet almost in a whisper. “I love you.”

His movement stops almost immediately, his eyes widening in surprise. He locks his gaze back with yours, his grip on your legs becoming loose. “What?”

“I love you,” you repeat, placing your legs down so you can sit up from your position. Your back feels sore, screaming in pain but you try not to wince. You reach out to grab his face, running your thumb along his lower lip. “I love you, Lee Donghyuck.” You kiss him gently, merely pressing your lips against his and you can feel how his body stiffen under your touch. “So calm down, because I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be with you, as long as you let me.”

Haechan is still very much speechless and you decide to take control. You carefully push him down so he can sit back on the floor before you climb into his lap. You kiss him again, tangling your fingers in his hair before you slide down, enveloping him once again. There’s a small moan escaping his lips, which you immediately capture with your own and his hands find their way back to your hips again.

“That’s not fair,” he says, his cheeks reddening slightly though he’s still scowling at you. “You’re just saying that so I won’t be angry with you anymore.”

“That too, but,” you’re interrupted by a moan that departs from your lips, can barely handle the way he twitches inside you. “I’ve been feeling that way for quite some time now. Especially when we fight. I just missed you so much, I couldn’t stand it.”

His pout is growing back on his face, though not as apparent. “Well, whose fault do you think is that?” It’s perfect, the way he moves inside you and it’s driving him crazy whenever you clench your walls around him.

“There’s nothing between me and Jaehyun, I promise you,” you softly murmur as you place open-mouthed kisses down his neck. “I’d never cheat on you, Hyuck. You know that, right?”

He shivers slightly under your touch, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Still,” he breathes out, “It doesn’t mean I’m fine with you meeting him behind my back.”

“He’s my boss, I wouldn’t be able to avoid him even if I wanted—” You have to end your sentence short when he rubs his thumb against your clit, reeling in the sensation. “Hyuck, you’re going to make me come again at this rate.”

“Good, because I intend to make you come at least three times tonight.” He snickers against your lips. “So you won’t be able to forget who owns you.”

His movements become sloppy, going out of rhythm, even more desperate with each thrust and when you whisper with his earlobe between your teeth, “Happy birthday, baby,” he comes undone almost immediately with his face hiding between the slope of your neck.

He lays you down to the floor again, gently this time, before he hovers above you, his arms shaking slightly. “Holy shit,” he exhales, cheeks flushed and beads of sweat forming on his temple. “I think I came a lot inside you.”

“Glad I’m taking some pills then,” you reply, smiling a little as you cup his cheek, your thumb tracing the mole under his left eye. “You okay?”

“Are you okay?” He asks instead. “Was I too rough? Are you hurt somewhere?”

“Why is it that whenever we have sex, you end up asking me these questions?” You chuckle. “Yes, you were. And yes, I am hurt. My back is killing me.”

“I’m…” There’s a slight panic flitting across his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it was kinda hot seeing you all riled up like that. It’s like you turned into a completely different person.” You pull him down by his necklace, murmuring against his lips, “I won’t mind if you fuck me like that again sometimes.”

It’s funny that after all of this that just happened, he actually blushes over your words. Quietly cursing under his breath, he leans back on his heels, slowly pulling out of you and stare intently at how his cum starts to seep out of you.

“Goddamn…” he mumbles, eyes unblinking as if he’s in a trance. “I really did come a lot inside you.”

“Consider that your birthday gift. Also, can you stop looking at me like that—it’s embarrassing.” You don’t usually get embarrassed about sexual stuff, especially now that your boyfriend’s shamelessness kind of rubs off on you, but Haechan really knows how to push your buttons.

Seeing you fidget out of shame, Haechan’s eyes twinkle, his lips forming a teasing grin. “No, wait, let me clean you up.” Despite what he says, he slowly pushes one finger into you, with another one following right after and you part your lips in a gasp but loss for words when you see him playing with his cum that’s mixed with yours, smearing it on the inside parts of your thigh.

“Haechannie,” you gasp, feeling his fingers inside you once again, with his thumb rubbing over your clit. “What are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He grins, showcasing his perfect teeth. “I’m going to make you come again. And then you’re going to make me come again.” His face hovers above yours, wetting his bottom lip as he stares lustfully at you. “Since it’s my birthday and you’re obliged to do whatever I want.”

You gulp. You’re going to be so sore tomorrow.

***

[mashiraostail]

I've been having a lot more depressive episodes lately.(dw, im getting help) But, can i have Nemuri and Aizawa comforting a s/o who just had a depressive episode? You don't have to do it if you're not comfortable with the topic, but if you do thank you so much

Thanks for the request! I can do this for sure and I hope it helps! As someone who is also depressed I put some lil tidbits from my own struggles in here (specifically the gargantuous amount of energy turning the shower knob can take me and how that simple action has literally stopped me showering for weeks) If you’re struggling right now please remember to extend your body the same kindness you so consistently extend to other people!! Even by sitting here reading my writing you’re being so amazingly kind to me!! Project that back onto yourself and give yourself a reward, a glass of water at your favorite temperature, or even a snack if you can stomach it! It’s easy to drown ourselves in comfort content and neglect tangible acts of self love but I promise the energy will be worth it!

Nemuri: It’d been a while since Nemuri heard from you, and even longer since she’s seen you, which was rare. You didn’t drop off the face of the planet or anything but you had been evading her invitations to go out or even just to spend a night with her. She wanted to avoid showing up unannounced but it was becoming concerning. The last thing she wanted was to make you think she didn’t trust you or to startle you, but whenever she brought it up you brushed her off. She hated the idea of you being sick or even just swamped with work all alone when she was more than capable of helping you out. Eventually she just decides to show up, she texts you first but you don’t even appear to open it, she just had a bad feeling and if hero-work taught her anything it was to always trust a bad feeling.  She knocks on your front door for a while to no avail, ringing the bell intermittently, she’s just met with silence. Her key works which at least is a good sign that you didn’t pack up and move across the country or something.  “Hello??” She wanders into the apartment. It’s dark and radio silent. But there are dishes in the sink, your shoes strewn around the entryway and your bag on the table.  “You here??” You were definitely here, your car keys were on the couch and your usual walking around sneakers...or. one of them was underneath the coffee table.  She decides to check your bedroom.  “I’m gonna open the door okay?? If you aren’t decent now’s the time to say it don’t freak out at me okay?? I’m opening the door now.” She opens the door with covered eyes. “Hello?” She peeks between her fingers and is greeted with the sight of you, or the lump that is probably you, curled up underneath your duvet.  “Nemuri.” Your head pokes up overtop your pile of pillows and the fluff of your comforter.  “Well hello!” She piques, clearly relieved to see you, “good morning to you sleeping beauty, though it is 4 in the afternoon.” She pushes the door open the rest of the way and enters the room.  “What’s up?” She leans against your dresser, “where have you been?”  “Where does it look like I’ve been?” You sigh.  “What’re you a vampire or something now? Decided to go fully nocturnal?” She grins but you don’t mimic her amusement.  “What’s wrong babe? I’ve done like 4 things that you would have laughed at by now. Something’s obviously wrong. I texted you and called but you didn’t reply...are you upset with me? This isn’t how you normally act when you’re upset with me...” She wrings her hands together, “normally you come to see me all the time, I’m not saying you have to be inseparable from me or anything but...well this just isn’t like you..if I made you mad I’d rather you tell me babe since I’m clueless..”   You sigh, suddenly feeling guilty for your radio silence for the past few days and the increasing distance you’d put between the pair of you for the past week or so now. It was intentional you just shut down and you didn’t mean to but everything was a chore, even the things you loved, sometimes especially the things you loved.  “No...it’s not you.”  “Well I’m...” She looked confused, “I’m glad to hear that but I’m still kinda lost. Are you sick? Did someone else make you upset? If someone else is giving you problems you need to tell me.” Having the green light gets her to venture further into your bedroom and sit on the edge of your mattress, “I can set some people straight if that’s the problem.”  “No it’s..nobody...no one is giving me any trouble that’s not it.” You also suddenly feel sort of stupid. You don’t even know what put this on. One day you were fine and the next you were worse, and then next was worse and the next was worse than that until you ended up where you were now. In bed 5 days removed of a shower where your one meal of the day consisted of a plain bagel sometimes toasted other times not.  “No one?” She reaches out and holds the bend of your knees, “are you sure?” You nod. “Okay then...well what is it? I wanna help but you’ve gotta let me know how.”  “I just...” You scrub your face, “I just...it’s been a really bad week or..2 weeks or..however long. I don’t know. I feel so depressed and exhausted and everything is annoying and tiring and no matter how much I sleep I can’t seem to stay awake.” She takes in a breath at that and nods with it.  “Oh. OH. Well now I feel stupid pulling away so much. I just didn’t wanna be overbearing and offend you or..well...well what’s up? What set all this on? Did something happen to...to make you feel upset or?”  “I don’t know...I just think I haven’t been taking good enough care of myself. I’ve been slacking and procrastinating and then I got overwhelmed and then I got upset and now...I’m here. I just feel like such an idiot and now to think I made you think I was upset with you because I was too-”  “Don’t even finish that sentence.” Nemuri shushes you, “it’s alright. Really you don’t have to feel bad about that. I get it, I understand now so it’s okay. I’m sorry for making it about me.” Her hand moves up to squeeze your thigh.  “I wanna do everything I can to help okay? Whatever I can do to help you come out on top with this thing...” Her other hand squeezes your lower arm, “I don’t want you to feel like you can’t come to me with this sort of thing okay? We don’t have to get into the...deep emotional part of it if you don’t wanna talk about that with me. But we can start small can’t we? When’s the last time you had something to drink?” She looks at the empty glasses on your bedside table. “And when’s the last time you ate or took a shower?”  The face you make at that tells her more than enough.  “Okay you don’t have to answer that.” She reaches out tuck your hair back but you flinch away from it, the last thing she need to feel was your dirty hair.  “Come on with that.” She sighs, “I don’t think you’re gross. I’m not grossed out at all okay? I promise. I’ve had my fair share of shower protests. It’s in the job description, no ones perfect. I love you, smelly or not. Now hold still and let me give you a kiss.”  You relent at that. She presses a long kiss to your temple, sighing into your skin, “I’m sorry you feel this way. I don’t wan you to feel this way ever..so let’s start small.. How about a nice bath, yeah? I’ll set one up for you you can soak in it for a bit, while you do that I’ll clean up around here, change your sheets and...work on that.. situation.. in the sink, then when you’re ready I’ll come wash your hair for you. After that you can relax in the bath a little more, shave if that’s something that will make you feel good, or I could put some conditioner in your hair. Or you can just sit in a nice warm bath with a cold bottle of water and get your energy back up. I’ll get you some real food in the mean time.”  She doesn’t poke or prod for information, she washes your hair with the same care and consideration that went into most of the things she did, she didn’t ask to join you, or to stay. She asked if you wanted to be alone for a little bit longer and left you to it when you confessed that you did only poking in to leave ‘the comfiest looking pajamas I could find’ for when you were done cleaning up. You manage to get yourself up and out of the bath without having to call for the help or extra motivation to do it. She only looks delighted to see you.   “How’d the bath go? Did I use enough bubbles?”  “It was nice..I didn’t realize how..far gone I was..I feel better..” You rub your arm, if she’s at all perturbed by your confession it’s not detectable.  “Yeah?? I had a feeling it would help. Now come here. I really want a hug.” She pats the empty bed beside her and you make your way over.  “Good, there you are.” She wraps her arms around you and sighs, “I missed you.” She tucks you easily into her chest, her free hand scratching the nape of your neck, “don’t apologize for that.” She stops you before you can talk.  “I ordered some food from that place you like. I wanted to make something so you could get some food in you a little faster but...you’re running a little low on raw materials.” She combs her fingers through your wet hair, “it’s okay though having your favorite might make you feel a little better.”  “Yeah..thanks for being here.” You close your eyes, still exhausted but your chest felt lighter, your whole body felt lighter.  “Of course. I only wish I came sooner but...” She pulls back and looks at you, holding the base of your skull in her hands, “I get wanting to be alone sometimes. Needing space to get your feet on the ground is normal but...don’t be afraid to ask for my help either. If there ever is a time that you want me here, need me here even...I want to be here. I know I can rely on you so I hope you know you can rely on me too.” She presses a long kiss to your forehead at that.  “I think I’ll feel a lot better tomorrow.” Your voice is quiet and your fingers brush against her collarbone. “That’s good.” Her palm pulls your hair off your forehead, “in the meantime I’ll be here to help you get there.” 

Aizawa:  Aizawa was an introvert himself. He liked being around other people at times of course but sometimes he just needed a quiet room to recharge. He figured you did too, and plus you were both plenty busy. For the most part he trusted your judgement and tended to not be very insecure when it came to how much time you spent together. He liked being around you, and would rather be with you than not for the most part but he understood probably better than anyone what exhaustion can do to a person. If you were tired then you could recharge. That being said he wouldn’t avoid you if he saw you out and about, and he saw you out and about.  It was actually late for you to be out, late for anyone to be out really. You were leaving a convince store and he was getting ready to call it a night with patrolling.  “Hey.” The way you jump out of your skin at his voice tells him he maybe should have approached you with noisier steps.  “Sorry.”  “It’s okay.” You clutch the bag you were holding, “I just thought I was getting mugged is all.”  “You think there are criminals running around when I’m out here? I don’t know if I should be insulted.” He teases a little and you jump.  “That isn’t how I meant-”  “I know.” He chuckles, “I know. What are you doing out so late? It’s almost midnight.”  “I...had to get some stuff.. You bounce nervously on the balls of your feet, the last thing you needed was him seeing you like this. It was the first time you’d gone out in like 2 weeks, you were sure you looked as terrible as you felt.  “You don’t look very happy to see me.” Ever intuitive. You supposed you didn’t keep it much of a secret, the first thing you did whenever you saw him was reach out for him, his hand, his arm, his waist, you just wanted to touch. Or normally you did, but now all you wanted to do was get away.  “I’m just...exhausted. Sorry I am happy to see you. I’m always happy to see you.” You rub your eyes, “like you said, it’s late.”  “It is late.” He agrees, “I’m finished here.”  “O-oh that’s good..are you hurt at all?”  “No, slow night...but.. why don’t we spend the night together? Since we’re both here.”  He didn’t need to see the state of your apartment.  “U-uh okay yeah we can go to yours..” “You’re closer.” He raises his eyebrows, letting his goggles fall around his neck, “and you just bought stuff. I’m assuming it’s for your apartment not mine.” He peeks into the bag, “I don’t remember sending you a midnight shopping list.��  “W-well yeah but there’s school tomorrow and you’re closer so it’s probably easier for you and-”  “You’re an extra five minutes out.” He laughs at that, “and unless you trashed all my things in the week I went without seeing you I have plenty of stuff to wear at your place.”  “Y-yeah I mean..that is true.”  He raises one eyebrow at you, “so?” You couldn’t think of a good reason to say no, the mountain of dishes in your sink, the full washer and dryer and 2 baskets of unfolded laundry didn’t seem like an excuse, especially considering it was knowledge you wanted to withhold from him in the first place.  “Y-yeah sure..it has been a while.”  “Alright, let’s go then.” He reaches out and takes your bags from you batting your hand away as you try to stop him.  “You’ve been working-”  “I got it. It’s fine come on. You really shouldn’t be out so late by yourself you know.”  “You’re probably right..” You murmur, making to follow him down the road.  He doesn’t pry about your jittery state, he asks a few question about how your day went and seems to back down even more when you take a hold of his arm on your walk.  “It really is slow tonight.” He looks around, “at least you picked a good night for a midnight excursion.” He nudges you a little playfully and you hum.  You wanted to be more engaging but every step brought you closer to the impending doom that would be Shota seeing the abysmal state in which you were living.  Once you get to the front door you realized you didn’t have your keys.  “I...” You look at your shoes and he leans against the wall.  “What’s up?”  “I don’t have my keys..”  “You really are lucky you ran into me.” He straightens up and shifts the bags to one arm to fish around in his pocket, “I’ve got one. Are you feeling alright?” You don’t reply because...well he’d figure it out.  “Please don’t say anything rude.” You warble mostly to yourself as the lock clicks, he pushes the door open. “What do you mean don’t say anything rude, why would I-” He clicks the light on as he steps inside. Oh it’s worse than you remembered. How’d your laundry get to the couch? And why did you get a new glass every time you wanted water? Especially when you didn't drink it half the time. Everything is clearer in hindsight.  “Oh.” He sets the bags down on the coffee table, which is really the only clear surface in a 10 foot radius of him.  “I’m sorry.” You groan, slumping into the wall and scrubbing your face, “I’m so gross-”  “I didn’t say that...But let me ask again.”  He turns to you, “are you feeling alright?”  “Not really no..” You look down again and he starts to pick up some of the glasses.  “The sink isn’t any better..” You warn him, hugging your chest.  “Yeah I figured.” He turns to you, arms full of various aspects of your mess. “Don’t look so guilty. Come on.” He nods you towards your kitchen, you figure the least you can do is pick up a few spoons, bowls and glasses on your way in.  “You don’t have to clean up after my stupid mess I-”  “Don’t be so hard on yourself.” He shakes his head, “you don’t feel good. I wish you’d said something sooner. I would have come when you asked.”  “Don’t feel bad.” You murmur, “I wasn’t ready anyways.”  “Come here.” He holds an arm out and you cringe, “I probably smell terrible I haven’t-”  “It’s okay. It’s all okay. I’m not holding any of this against you, no one is. Come on. Over here.” So you shuffle into his chest, eventually wrapping tired arms around his ribs.  “Does this help?” He’s rubbing long strokes up your back, his palm his firm against you every stroke pushing you a little closer. You just nod into his chest.  “Did something happen? Did someone upset you? Or are you just having a hard time right now?”  “I’m just having a hard time.” You reply, trying not to let your voice sound to wet or warbly. “Cry if you want to. If you need to. It’s okay. I won’t hold that against you either. Sometimes the best thing you can do is cry. I’ll be here for you while you do.” It’s not loud hiccup-y sobs, you aren’t bawling and sniffling. It sounds just as tired as the rest of you, it’s listless and exhausted and downright empty. It honestly hurt him to hear it a little. He’s been there too.  One hand holds the back of your head the other keeps running those lines up your back pressing between your shoulder blades.  “What do you think about taking a shower?” His fingers glide along the hem of your tee shirt, grazing your neck lightly. “It’s not that I don’t want to-”  “I know. Hey, I know.” He pulls you away and slicks your hair back, “but you’re neglecting your body right now. Even if you don’t mean to. Your skin and hair will be really thankful for a shower right now. How can I help you get there?”  He takes you to the bathroom and carefully undresses you going as far to turn the shower nob for you.  “Sit if you need to.” He reminds you, gathering your clothes off the ground, “I’m going to leave the door open so call me if there’s anything you can’t do, but I’ll come check on you in 10 minutes okay? Is there anything you don’t want me touching or cleaning without you? Is there anything that’s off limits?”  “No...it’s okay...I just feel bad you’ve been working and now-”  “Don’t feel bad. I’m not doing anything that you wouldn’t do for me. Take your shower, I’ll come back in a few minutes after I fold up the laundry out here. Try to stay focused.”  “Thank you.” You nod and squeezes your shoulder.  “You’re welcome. And thank you for trusting me.”  He helps you out of the shower and wraps you in a towel. In the time you’d spent in the shower he’d gotten most of your dishes into the dish washer and you could see your couch again.  “New sheets.” He kisses your temple, “you ready to go to sleep?”  You nod as he tosses a tee shirt to you.  “Tomorrow morning you’re gonna eat a good breakfast with me right?”  “I don’t really have much to cook with-” “We’ll make it work.” He leans back against the pillows, “don’t worry about it now. Right now just focus on getting some sleep, real genuinely restful sleep. Wake me up if you need me.” 

[withoneheadlight]

| a house (is a home) | (i). the keys | (ii). memories&herons | tinyplaylist |

~

With the house they inherit:

Piles and piles and piles of yellowing newspapers from May of the fifty-four to July of the sixty-six. An old, damp-stained Spanish guitar Billy tortures Steve with for a whole, whole week. And actually cool rattan garden set. An acceptably new lawnmower that refuses to start up.

A pipe system that, when using the hot water, always sounds like there’s a ghost trapped inside, howling all around it.

It drives Billy stir crazy but, doesn’t bother Steve that much.

("I don't care for supernatural creatures as long as they don't have fangs"

"Oh, babe, that’s only because you still haven't seen Poltergeist”)

The ugliest, “Ugliest couch, Steve, really” any of them has seen in their entire lives. A Brownish-green. Mushy. Deformed. Gigantic thing the kids bitch about all the time, calling it ‘The Swamp Thing’ (but then proceed to lament even louder than the pipe-ghost when they finally decide to get rid of it)

An old, sad, perpetually yawning dog that won't leave their porch (As if he’d loved somebody here once. As if he’s waiting), and for which they end up making a place inside the house as if it were theirs (“Which is not, Harrington”) because, Steve knows, there are a few things Billy believes and even preaches about himself that are, in fact, all wrong. As if he got them stitched over the real ones so long ago he can no longer tell them apart from the original pattern.

Like,

"If you like the dog, we can keep it. He's not moving, anyways"

"I don't like dogs" He growls, petting the dog, scratching his chest right where the animal clearly most likes it, letting him methodically lick on the back of his hand.

And those things― it's Steve's job to find them, now. Cut the thread that binds them. Reach out for the realness lying underneath the lie.

"Are you sure about that?"

Billy glances up at him, frowns, tilts his head as if he doesn't get why Steve’s smirking.

"Yeeeah. Pretty sure" Snorts. Shrugs. The dog's paw drums rhythmically on the ground.

"Yeeeah” Steve mimics, brow rising “Then tell me, baby, why do you keep on feeding him?"

It takes more than a week and more than a few beers and their dog happily napping curled up at his feet on their freshly mowed backyard for Billy to say:

"It's because that's how I felt" eyes set on the orangey, melting sun, taking a big gulp of air before going on “When you went away. Those years. I–“ swallows like this is, right here, right now, on the sighing sleepiness of this summer evening, the first time he’s tried to find the words for something that’s been inhabiting inside of him only as a raw, wordless feeling for so long.

(Too long)

And Steve feels it like the blade of a knife, cold at the tip of his tongue, the urging to say ‘I shouldn’t have’ and ‘I regret It’ and ‘I’m sorry’. But Billy told him, that night they parted ways, hands cupping his face. Told him “There’s nothing to be sorry about, pretty boy. You do what you gotta do. And who knows, maybe one day I’ll have another lucky strike” So he doesn’t. Buries the words down inside. They’re not what Billy needs, now.

What he needs is,

Steve to stay quiet. Steve to wait. Needs,

“You left and then–” Say it, Steve thinks, C’mon, say it. Eyes set on the way his breath gets trapped on its way out of Billy’s chest, like it takes such a fight, letting these all out “this fucking town was all I got left. And we had touched in so many places we had― kissed in so many places. Everywhere I looked and. People say. You’ve to forget about it. Let life go on but. But that’s not what I wanted. I wanted to feel all those moments, to be– close to them. Inhabit them and I. Was―”

Billy cuts himself off. Breathes out a “Fuck”. Glances at Steve. A quick, elusive thing, as if he’s scared of himself, of having said too much, being too much, and Steve realizes it’s just one more of those patches, one that he’ll have to unstitch slowly, stretch the original fabric carefully out. Reveal another part of the original masterpiece. So he reaches for Billy’s cheek, traces it down to his chin. The lightest of caresses. Brings Billy’s eyes back to his.

It’s an overwhelming amount of love, the one he feels for Billy Hargrove, there’s no way for Steve to pour it all in between the lines on his fingerprints, but he tries, just in case, he keeps on trying.

“Yeah?” he asks. Soft. Low. Because this Billy right here is like a distant comet orbiting around the sun. A once, maybe twice in a lifetime thing. More. Many more, hopefully. If Steve does his job right. So he waits, as the night settles around them, as it pulses, like a beating, like the inside of a heart.

Billy breathes in, his chest shaking as he lets the air blow out of him.

“The only difference between that dog and I, Steve, is that. You came back” and it’s still there at the tip of his tongue, maybe will forever be, that sorry, but Billy doesn’t need it and not everything Steve feels is regret, because he did what he needed to do and all that happened took him here. And he knows the ending of this story. He believes in it. He’s― No. They. They’re. Fighting so hard for it. This story that happens in a freshly mowed backyard connected by a scratchy door to a weirdly trapezoidal kitchen. That happens in Billy’s lips, parting, growing into a smile. This story ends with,

“Is that I had another fucking lucky strike”

Ends. And then again. Begins.

And Steve wishes he could take all this love out, get it embroidered all over his body for Billy to read, to touch, to see.

But the only way is to keep on getting it out in small, uncompleted fragments. Stitch himself into Billy. Re-pattern them both into a bigger, better piece.

So he waits a little more, until Billy has wiped away the wetness of his eyes, until Billy has taken a long sip of his fifth beer, until Billy has lightened another cigarette.

Until Billy has taken his time.

And then asks.

“How do you want to call him?”

Billy looks at him -eyes round, brow raised- in bewilderment, like that’s the most obnoxious thing somebody has ever asked him.

“Dog?”

And Steve laughs. And Laughs and laughs and laughs. And wonders. Wonders. Will forever wonder.

How Billy’s still thinking he’s the lucky one.

~

next

[transienturl]

There’s apparently a challenge going on at Twitter where you gotta list off what you know about each state of the US, so I’m stealing the prompt from @fixaidea since it might be interesting!

I’ll be particularly interested to see how much of my knowledge of the states is either from sports (which in the past few years I guess I have become a follower of, sort of, insofar as I only read articles about them) or politics.

Edit from the future: Holy crap this got long. I’m gonna stop after doing the first... half-ish and do another post with the rest later, lol.

Alabama: The stereotypical “red state:” highly Christian, highly conservative. No idea about demographics - I feel like I haven’t heard of a sizable Black population, for some reason? Seems odd for a southern state. Massively into college football and the Alabama-Auburn rivalry.

Alaska: Lots of unpopulated or sparsely populated land, probably largely federal land. Pretty in the supper, supposedly. Lots of wildlife; bears and fish seem like the stereotype. Hard not to associate with Sarah Palin. Used to have a major international airport when the Soviet Union didn’t allow flight over its territory. Population mostly in cities in the southwest coast(?)

Arizona: Hot, dry. Low population density. Significant amount of Native American reservations, I... think? (Not sure that is actually the most appropriate and respectful term?) Only things I know of there are the Grand Canyon, one university, and the Cardinals NFL team.

Arkansas: Uhh... it has a low population, is not on the coast, is probably west of the Mississippi, and probably tends to vote Republican? I don’t actually know where Arkansas is. Actually, maybe that’s Kansas, and Arkansas is near Tennessee and, like, North Carolina. Actually, that sounds right. Forget what I said earlier. That being said, I (clearly) have no idea whatsoever.

California: Huge, so hard to summarize; climate especially varies a lot between north and south. Huge, diverse population. Significant Asian-American population, including Governor. Reliable Democrat vote. LA is basically the biggest population center in the US; has Hollywood and lots of media production. Expensive place to live. Has 2 teams of most sports leagues just like NYC, and still has high population-per-team. San Diego is further South. San Francisco area has tons of tech companies, large bay, golden gate bridge, significant homelessness issue. State is also big on surfing, wine production.

Colorado: Fairly low population density overall, as you might expect from a western non-coastal state, but Denver is actually pretty dense. Has a bunch of the sports teams that basically represent that area of the US. Fairly liberal on the whole(?); was known for early legalization of marijuana. Lots of mountains. (No idea if it’s just Denver that’s a mile high or most of the state’s area.)

Connecticut: Tiny. Usually thought of in the same breath as its neighbors like Massachusetts and New York. I can’t actually think of anything specific to Connecticut that’s not about New England. Has a highway.

Delaware: Tiny. Joe Biden lives there. Uhh...

District of Columbia: Has more population than... I forget how many, but enough states that it obviously should be one. Ridiculously, absurdly blue “state.” (Partially from not including ~any rural area, I’m sure, but still.) The whole federal government is there. Square-ish.

Florida: Big, warm, wet. Nice weather for retired people and those trying to escape the cold. Lots of swamps and wildlife (alligators, stereotypically). Palm trees. We launch rockets there so they can go East over the ocean and are near the equator. Has Disney... uh, world? land? Miami is known as a destination city for partying. Tampa Bay is... I don’t know. Jacksonville has a military port. I would have assumed Miami and Orlando were the only large cities if not for sports. Cuba is close to Miami, so there’s a significant Cuban population. (Hispanic, too, possibly?) Swing state.

Georgia: Southern state with all that entails. Significant Black population. High Christian population, I assume. Elected a Black governor, which is a huge deal. Atlanta is a huge Black cultural center(?).

Hawaii: Y’all know what Hawaii is, so gonna skip the general stuff. Big Polynesian(?) population. Big military population and influence. Big Asian population and a common vacation destination from Japan, China, etc. Expensive as hell, obviously. Very liberal. Big on fighting climate change. Surprisingly diverse climate, considering how small it is.

Idaho: Lots of farming, not a lot of people. The stereotype is potatoes, but I don’t actually know how accurate that is. Midwestern.

Illinois: Has Chicago, a huge city, and a bunch of non-Chicago area, serving as the common example of how states are designed to have diverse population density. Chicago is on the (one of the great lakes), and sometimes it’s very windy and cold. Uh... I don’t actually know a lot about Illinois. Usually votes blue? People seem to like their sports teams?

Indiana: Midwestern. Red state. Known for the Indy 500, Mike Pence being from there, John Green living there, and... not sure what else, really. Has sports teams in Indianapolis, so presumably it’s fairly populous.

Iowa: Midwestern...ish, I think? Known for the first caucuses, and thus for being a small swing state comprised of basically just white people. Has... farms, I think?

Kansas: See entry for Arkansas.

Kentucky: Southern state known for bluegrass music, barbecue(?), uh... and probably some other stuff? In what I’m calling the Tennessee area. Super red state.

Louisiana: Southern coastal state. Has the Mississippi river mouth, I think. Has New Orleans, which is known for cuisine, French influence, and getting hit by Hurricane Katrina. (And football, both college and professional.) Also, mardi gras. Super red state.

Maine: Lots of forests. Not lots of not-white-people. So far northeast it’s basically Canada. Known for Lobster fishing, having an independent-party senator, ranked-choice voting, and... well, being full of forests.

Maryland: Hm. Washingon D.C. was originally Maryland, so this must be near Virginia. Oh, right, Baltimore is in Maryland. Which is known for crab fishing. And uh... I’m gonna guess red state? I feel like I should have more here.

Massachusetts: Where I grew up, which surprisingly makes it hard to describe since you just think of your birthplace as the default. Insert New England things here. Clam chowder, being pretty in the fall, I dunno. Has Boston, the biggest(?) city in New England. Won basically ever sport one year.

Michigan: Is between all the great lakes. Was once a manufacturing powerhouse, and to a lesser extent presumably still is. Has Detroit, known as Motor City, where all (or a lot of) the US auto manufacturers are based, and Flint, known for poisoning a ton of its poor population with lead piping and doing fuck all about it.

Minnesota: Amy Klobuchar’s state, so midwestern and presumably moderate-democratic. Has a professional football rivalry with Wisconsin that almost seems to indicate a general rivalry of sorts. No idea what it’s known for economically.

[analisegrey]

Prompt from @rohanrider3:  “ Yay! If your askbox is still open, here's a prompt :D Character: Caleb Widogast,  phrase: "You're burning up." <3 <3″

It starts small, as such things often do.

Caleb hasn’t always caught sick so easily; it’s only after the asylum he really begins to notice it. He has some ideas on what’s happened, but most of the time he just tries not to think about it.

This time, it starts with a small tickle in his throat. It’s not too bad; his voice gets rougher for a few days, and Nott sneaks honey drops into his pockets when he isn’t looking, but he feels okay all things considered. Then his sinuses get into it, which is less than grand, and his throat gets worse when he starts breathing through his mouth as his nose gets stuffier. In the evenings when the group makes camp, Nott tugs his bedroll a few inches closer to the fire when he’s doing something else, but he tugs it back away with a pointed look at her which she pretends not to notice.

If it had stayed just that, it would have been unpleasant for a few days, but it would have been fine. Unfortunately, as Caleb has learned, and will apparently need to learn again, his luck isn’t spectacular, and the illness doesn’t feel satisfied to just stay up in his head. A day or so later the cough begins, and again, at first it isn’t bad. When Jester gives him a concerned look and asks if he’s alright he waves her off. “It’s just a cold, Jester, I don’t think there’s much to be done about it.”

She narrows her eyes at him, considering, then nods, a smile blooming across her face. “If you say so, Caleb, but you know I am a great healer, so if you change your mind and want me to give it a shot, you just say the word and I’ll get right on that for you!”

He can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “Thank you, Jester, you will be the first I talk to if that is the case.”

Another couple of days pass, and he can admit that maybe his cough won’t just go away on its own. It’s settling, taking root, and it hurts sometimes when he breathes too deep or too quickly. He’s felt something like this before, right before he and Nott escaped prison together, and it took medicine to fix it then. He doesn’t have medicine this time, and they’re still days away from the nearest village. Jester’s delighted when Caleb approaches her for help, but less so when her attempts to cure the cough fail. She frowns, the gentle blue glow from her fingertips fading as she pulls her hand back from its place on his chest.

“I’m sorry, Caleb, I thought I could help, but I think that maybe, because this technically isn’t a wound, that maybe the type of spells I have right now won’t work. I can try again, though, if you’d like? Or, oh! I can ask the Traveler tonight if he has any ideas, and then we’ll see maybe tomorrow?”

Caleb shakes his head with a tired smile and pulls his coat tighter around himself. “Don’t worry yourself over it, Jester. We should be reaching the next town soon, and we can handle it then. I will be okay.”

Caleb doesn’t like being wrong, but when they’re attacked by a troll that evening in camp, he has to admit he’s worse off than he initially thought.

The troll thankfully doesn’t spurt poison the way the one in the Labenda swamp had, but it does still regenerate, and it’s quickly becoming a problem. It’s already tossed Fjord aside, and he isn’t moving from where he landed. Caleb thinks it might be easier to fight if it would just stay still; he pulls his clay cat’s paw from his pocket and concentrates, and out of the ground springs a giant earthen paw which grabs the troll, holding it still for the others to attack.

That’s all well and good until Caleb starts coughing and can’t stop. He tries, but every time he gasps for air he starts coughing again, and oh gods, he can’t breathe. His vision goes gray at the edges, and between one second and the next he loses concentration on the spell and his cat’s paw loses its grip on the troll. He doesn’t see what happens, but when he finally manages to stop coughing long enough to gasp a breath in, it’s eerily quiet. He’s fallen to his hands and knees, though he isn’t sure when it happened; it must have at some point though because he’s on the ground, the clay cat’s paw beside him and his fingers digging into the soil from where he’s been fighting to breathe. He looks over at where the troll now lies, minus its head, with Yasha standing over it with her sword covered in blood. That- that’s good. Jester’s next to Fjord, who’s just sitting up, and that’s also good. Still panting for breath, Caleb glances around and spots Molly, who’s on his knees not far away, leaning over- oh. Oh no, that’s Nott laying under Molly, and she isn’t moving.

Caleb scrambles to his feet and stumbles over to drop back to the ground next to Molly who’s just opened a healing potion and is working to get Nott’s mouth open. Caleb bats his hand away and reaches in himself, hefting Nott up to a sitting position and getting a grip on her chin to make it easier for Molly. Nott’s limp and pliant in his hands, and he can see the rips in her clothing from where the troll must have gotten her with its claws. As Molly gets the potion into her, the deep wounds under the fabric start to close, the bleeding slowing, then coming to a stop completely. Caleb feels lightheaded in relief, then realizes it isn’t just relief he’s feeling. The world goes distant, muffled, and even though he isn’t coughing, it doesn’t feel like he’s getting enough air. He sets Nott aside gently as he can in his increasing panic, and pulls sharply at the collar of his shirt, his hands starting to shake. He knows panicking will only make his breathing worse, but it’s difficult not to panic when it feels like his chest is being squeezed, no air getting in. His lungs ache, and he can hear Molly calling his name, getting more distressed by the moment, but he can’t get enough air to respond.

Things go hazy, snippets of conversation and sensations bleeding through, though it’s difficult to focus. A cool hand lands on his cheek, then his forehead, and he tries to lean into it, but can’t seem to move. He can vaguely feel he’s trembling and can’t stop, and his chest still hurts, a deep ache that makes it hard to breathe still, like Frumpkin’s sitting on his chest. He lifts his arms to push Frumpkin off only to have hands catch at his wrists and gently push them back down near his sides.

“BItte-” Why won’t they let him move Frumpkin, don’t they know he can’t breathe? He mentally commands the familiar to move, but nothing happens, and he doesn’t understand why Frumpkinis suddenly ignoring him. He pulls at the hands on his wrists, but they’re far stronger than him, and he feels his panic starting to grow. He can’t breathe, can’t move, and why won’t they help? Why won’t Frumpkin listen? Why-?

He struggles harder, but he’s getting weaker, and it’s more and more difficult to draw breathe, which only fuels his panic. The voices around him rise, pieces of conversation breaking through.

“-do we do? He’s burning up and we’re still at least a day away from the nearest town!”

“We’ve gotta cool him off. Help me, Yasha, there’s a stream over-”

Next thing he knows he’s moving, being lifted, and he can’t help the whine of distress and discomfort wrung out of him at the movement. He doesn’t know how he hasn’t noticed it before, but his whole body aches, his joints thrumming in pain at every jostle and movement. He wants to beg them to stop, but can’t get breath enough to do more than whimper.

Blessedly things slow and stop, but then there are hands on him, so many hands, pulling and tugging at his coat, his boots, his holsters, and oh gods, his books, please no, not those-

Again, he fights, but to no avail. He’s quickly down to shivering in his pants and linen shirt and he’s being picked up again.

“Hold him tight, he’s gonna thrash when we hit the water, but we need to bring the fever down.”

His thoughts are syrupy and slow, too slow to process what’s being said around him until it’s much too late. The first splash of icy water is a shock and his body locks up in surprise as he’s dragged further into the cold depths. His shivering intensifies until he can feel his teeth rattling. Everything hurts, everything feels like ice, and he doesn’t know what he’s done to warrant this.

Though, his mind supplies as he weakly struggles against the arms holding him, perhaps he’s died in the troll attack. Perhaps he’s dead, and this is his eternal punishment. He’s always assumed he’d spend eternity suffering in flames, but there’s something oddly poetic about the cold and wet, the bone-deep misery that’s swallowing him up, sending shards of ice into his joints and making him gasp and choke for air.

At a certain point his body gives out on him and he goes limp, the hands on him the only things holding him up. He’s still shaking, shivering uncontrollably, and gods, all he wants is for the misery to end, to pass out if that’s a thing the dead can do, if only so he could have a few moments of relief. He’s so tired, beyond exhausted, weary to his core, and to his immense relief, he does in fact pass out.

When Caleb wakes again, his mind feels marginally clearer. He’s bundled in a nest of blankets that he realizes is made up of everyone’s bedrolls, but partially sitting up, leaning back against some of the sacks of horse feed in the bed of their cart; the cart is in motion, the jostling of the wheels on the road cushioned by the blankets and making it bearable, if only just. It’s still difficult to breathe, and he’s still very uncomfortable, the haze of fever still settled however lightly over his thoughts.

“Caleb?”

It takes a lot of effort, but Caleb turns his head and gets his eyes to focus on Molly, who’s sitting a few feet away, back up against the side of the cart. His face lights up when he sees Caleb’s awake, and he grabs a water skin before scooting over to Caleb’s side.

“Hey. Do you think you could drink some water?”

Speaking seems inconceivably complicated, so he just nods, and Molly’s smile grows brighter. Molly uncorks the water skin and tilts it up letting water dribble into Caleb’s mouth slowly so as not to choke him. Caleb only manages a mouthful or two before he turns his head away, gasping for air again. Molly recorks the skin and brushes hair out of Caleb’s face, holding the back of his hand to Caleb’s forehead before making an unhappy sound and frowning.

“You’re still far too warm. We got your fever down from where it was, though, which is a blessing. We’ve been traveling as fast as possible so we can get to the next town. Yasha rode ahead to see if there was a doctor available, so there should be help waiting when we get there. In the meantime, try to rest if you can, alright?”

Caleb hummed in response, eyes sliding shut, letting the gentle rumble of the cart lull him into a restless slumber.

[nowitsdarkfic]

chapter two (black orchid)

My stomach is in complete and utter agony once she and I arrive at the doorstep: my hair is drenched and I’m freezing from the cold rain falling all around us. In the dim light, I can see her eyes struggling to remain open, but I made a promise with myself. The grass is starting to feel like a swamp, and I can tell the rain is making the leather rather slippery: I am almost dragging her once I stumble onto the concrete walkway.

I stop to push my hair out of my eyes to make out the shape of... a flower? I can’t tell.

I push my hair from my eyes again all while trying to keep her from sliding out from my arms. It’s like a neon light in the shape of a flower but I can’t be too sure of it.

What the hell is this place?

I hurry up to the doorstep, where I am met with a low awning: I duck my head and, once the rain is behind me and Maya, I give my head a toss back to rid of the wet strands of hair from my face.

Maya groans in her throat and shudders against my chest.

“Come on, Maya, babe, stay with me—“ I coax her, running her up to the front door. I press her head to my chest but since the leather on my jacket is too drenched, I have to lean back a bit to keep her from falling onto the hard ground. I try to knock on the dark heavy door panel but I can’t, otherwise I drop her.

So I kick the door with the sole of my shoe. No response. I’m about to do it again when this foxy girl sidles out from behind the darkness. Yellow light shines over Maya and me, and I blink several times to adjust my eyes.

She’s about a foot shorter than me with short scarlet red ringlets around her head and bright green eyes, and she has opaque skin as white as the impending snow, and as smooth as glass. She’s wearing a fitted black leather jacket zipped down to the base of her chest, a black miniskirt, and is barefoot. She gives her ringlets a toss back and flutters her eyelash extensions at me.

“Hey, handsome, what brings you to our little hub in the nub of New York?”

“Probably hypothermic, and starving, and I think something horrific happened to her,” I say in one fell swoop and a nod to Maya, and she gasps at the sight of her there in my arms.

“Oh holy shit!” She turns away from the door. “Lili! Lili, come quick!”

She returns to me.

“Yeah, come inside, come inside,” she encourages me.

I almost stumble ass over teakettle into the room from the wet soles of my Chucks, but I never let go of her. The girl gestures for me to bring Maya to a plush dark red couch nestled up against the wall, and I stagger forth a bit, but I catch myself in the moment. I lay her down on the cushions and I collapse right there on the soft shag carpet beneath her.

“Oh my God,” the girl pleads, clasping a hand to her mouth. A heavier woman with jet black hair tied tight in a bun atop her head skids into the room from the stairwell across from me.

“Morgan, what have I told you about calling me Lili?” she scolds her.

Morgan scoffs; meanwhile I can hardly lift up my head. Now I am starting to fade.

“Mrs. Hamilton, this guy and his girl here are—“ I couldn’t hear the rest of it. My vision blurs and falls out of focus as they fade out into silhouettes, both of which loom towards me.

I can feel them touching me and picking me up from the floor. Morgan sits me upright: I already know her fiery red hair through my hazy vision.

“—he said he’s hungry,” I hear her say: her voice sounds like she’s about a mile away.

“I bet he’s cold, too—“ adds Mrs. Hamilton. Her blurred silhouette turns away. “Cindy, go upstairs—”

My head rolls over onto my shoulder and I close my eyes. Like going to sleep.

And then I wake up to the heavy horse blanket wrapped around me and a whole group of girls, including Morgan and Mrs. Hamilton, gathered around me. The latter, who’s snuggled closest to me, brushes my hair from my face.

“There he is,” declares the black girl with the fledgling Afro to the right of me.

“Hey, hon,” she greets me in a Pennsylvania Dutch accent, “don’t scare us like that. We were kinda worrying about you there for a minute.” She hands me a large bluish white bowl of what looks like chicken noodle soup accompanied with a light silver spoon.

“You just make yourself at home here with us for a little bit,” the dishwater blonde across from me tells me.

“We’ll take good care of you,” promises the brown haired girl next to her, “—and her.”

I turn my head to make sure Maya is still laying behind me on the couch: they had removed her shoes and socks, and I could only see the tiny white stubs for feet jutting out from her slacks.

“Yeah, I hope she’s alright,” I confess, returning to the bowl in my lap.

I cannot seem to get the noodles and the chicken into my mouth faster as I almost inhale the first several bites of soup before me. I don’t even care if I dribble a little onto my shirt: I just want it inside of me.

“My goodness,” remarks Mrs. Hamilton, “poor thing, you must have been starving to death!”

“I pretty much was,” I confess, lifting my head to take a better look at her voluptuous figure. She’s a bit too old for me but I do like what I am seeing underneath that lush blanket brocade.

“I’m Leela, or Mrs. Hamilton. Only the select few call me Lili or Leah.”

“And by select few, you mean family and anyone who kisses your ass,” Morgan grumbles under her breath.

“Oh, stop,” Mrs. Hamilton scolds her, “obviously you met Morgan—that’s the Jackson girls, Lupe—“ She gestures to the brown haired girl who shows me a dainty little wave, “Louise, or Louie Louie as we call her—“ the dishwater blonde who blows me a kiss, “—Lizzy—“ the black haired girl with a silver nose ring and tattoos of Betty Boop and Jessica Rabbit on her shoulder who shows me a warm smile and flutters her lashes at me, “—and my daughters Cindy, who made the soup—“ the girl with feathery black hair and big sensual lips winks at me, “—and Gwendolyn.” The black girl to the right of me: and I tilt my head to the side at her.

“You’re her sister?”

“Half sister,” she elaborates. “Mr. Hamilton is my dad, but Cindy and I go by her maiden name.”

“Ridgeway,” says Cindy with a shy smile. I show her a sly grin as I pick up the spoon again.

“And do you have a name?” asks Lizzy.

“I’m Joey,” I introduce myself. “Joey Belladonna.”

“Ahh, we’ve got an Italian Stallion with us, girls,” declares Gwendolyn with a twinkle in her eye.

“Well, I dunno about that,” I shrug off, feeling the warmth return to my skin.

“Oh, come on, baby boy.” A devilish grin crosses her lovely face. “You’re as hot as the sun on the coast of Tuscany.”

“Oh, yeah, sis,” Cindy chimes in, leaning towards me, “you’re quite the—lush one, aren’t you?”

“Well, I’m also Native American, too,” I add, taking another bite of soup.

They all let out an eager gasp in unison and I am starting to feel better at that point.

“What—is this place, might I ask?” I lower my voice towards Mrs. Hamilton.

“Black Orchid,” she replies with a grin. “The finest, classiest, sexiest club outside of New York City.”

I swallow down another bite of soup before I understand what she’s talking about.

“Club,” I breathe out, feeling my heart skip a few beats, “I came to a strip club.”

“That’s right, baby doll,” Louie declares, and Lupe and Morgan giggle with each other. “We all were just headed home for the night because of the rain when you showed up.”

“Don’t tell us that’s your lady, though,” Cindy nods at Maya with an almost wounded look upon her face.

“Oh, no,” I assure her. “I was taking a walk when I found her in a storm drain bound at the ankles, and I wasn’t gonna let her die there.”

“Sexy as hell and a sweetheart,” Gwendolyn notes, her cheekbones filling out to resemble ripe plums.

“Em—well, if you ladies were headed home—and hopefully the rain’s died down, sounds like it has—”

“It’s snowing now, hon,” Mrs. Hamilton corrects me.

“It is? Well, fuck.”

“Slumber party!” Lizzy squeals, and I long for my bed right then and there. I have always loved falling asleep with my gullet full of food and in my own bed. But on the other hand, I suppose it is best if I do stay here for the night.

“I forgot to add, tomorrow’s my birthday,” I add and Mrs. Hamilton’s face lights up at the sound of that.

“Well, I’ll be screwed, blued, and tattooed—alright, girls! We’ve got all the more reason to spend the night. We’ve gotta do more than take care of this boy and help this young lady—we’ve got a birthday to plan!”

“I’ll get the cake!” Lizzy offers.

“I’ll help,” Morgan joins her.

“Gwen and I’ll find him a bed,” Cindy joins in, climbing to her feet.

“Louie and I’ll figure out what’s for breakfast,” Lupe proclaims with a wink at me.

“And I’ll get some beer,” Mrs. Hamilton says, rubbing her hands together.

Meanwhile, I return to my bowl of soup, which is quite big but I really don’t mind. I’d rather go to bed with my belly all warm than have every inch of me shuddering from that box of Mike n Ikes and melancholy. I take another bite before turning my head again to see her bare feet at the end of the couch.

It goes without saying that Maya and I are in good hands.

[brooklynislandgirl]

Married/Ship Meme for Beth and Marion :)c

Married Life Meme || Accepting

leaves their dirty clothes on the floor

Tatters of clothes like forgotten steamers of ribbons litter the ground. Darkly wet and sticky not even close to drying in the humid heat. A few lay there, trampled in the victory that had snatched them in the first place, others consigned to the earth in an effort to escape.

Further into the thickets of cypress and moss cloth is occasionally replaced with flesh for all the same reasons. It’s a grisly scene to come across, the implications of it both nauseating and fearsome.

Startled birds take loud wing, squawking warnings to their fellows but the swamp swallows that up. What’s worse though is the spectral echo of laughter and rough, ragged shrieks no human mouth can make. This is how legends are born. How they seed themselves into the earth and shadow below, and breathe just under the surface of algae-green carpeted pools.But then again, who ever said hide-and-seek wasn’t a full-contact sport had never Beth and her rougarou. 

forgets to run the dish washer

“I gotta dishwasher, sha,” she says. “M’own two hands.”Beth lays curled up on the couch, wrapped in a sheet as she watches Marion from across the room. The woman sounds a little offended and she’s not sure why. It was meant innocently, not as a social commentary on the way she lives. 

“Can I help a’least?”“Non.” The word is a little harsher than it’s meant and rests, quivering in the air. And she knows guilt is gnawing on Marion even though Beth has told her a hundred times that there’s nothing to be ashamed of. While she doesn’t walk in two worlds like Marion does, she understands it, otherwise she’d never even think to have made the offer.The bites will heal in a few hours, less if she speeds up the process, but the wound here only continues to atrophy.

pumps gas for the car

Marion resists the urge to light another cigarette as she sits in the driver’s seat, her thumbs tapping out a staccato rhythm on the steering wheel that has nothing to do with music and everything about the tension making camp between her shoulder blades.Outside, Beth is pumping gas and chirping away in undimmed enthusiasm for La Fete Louisiane up in Baton Rouge. She flits between asking for the dozenth time who Bienville and Évangéline are as if she can’t keep it in her head ~and bless that girl, maybe she can’t ~ and wondering if they should have made their own tintamarre. She talks about the presentations from the Houma Nation and asks after the origin of zydeco music, if Marion’s ever played pétanque. And maybe the last straw is when she talks about the first time she’s ever eaten crawdads, because she mentions the Other One.

It’s enough to make the beast snap and she does everything she can to keep it caged. “Ya done yet?”

drives when they’re going somewhere

And she’s still talking when she climbs back into the car; she might be adorable but Beth certainly doesn’t have the sense God gave a goose. That’s all youth and the undiminished innocence she manages to hold onto despite everything. And just maybe, Marion admits when she puts the truck into gear and pulls away from the gas station, she envies the little woman for that. And her man even more, though she avoids thinking about that. She breathes in the first tainted breath of the cigarette she promised herself and then switches on the radio to put a little distance between those bleaker thoughts and it’s as though someone, somewhere’s cursed her.

Beth sings along, to Marion. To the road. To the open road. She’s not very good at it but she makes up in volume and enthusiasm what she lacks in skill. One little hand comes to rest on Marion’s shoulder. “Love is in the water, love is in the air. Show me where to look, tell me, will love be there? Will love be there? Teach me how to speak, teach me how to share...”

She doesn’t seem to notice the way Marion’s body stiffens or the not quite affectionate look slanted her way and carries on with the impromptu serenade, right against Marion’s ear now.

“Beth?”

“Whoa…heaven let ya light shine down. Whooooaa, heaven let ya light shine down…yeah?”

“Go to bed wit dat.” Pointed, sharp.

The singing stops. There’s silence for a few precious minutes and then…“Is dat like one come on or one bad thing?”

For fuck’s sake.

“Eiddah way, pass a good time, yeah?” And oh how she giggles bright as sunshine.

rearranges the furniture

Weeks later and the hairs on the back of Marion’s neck stand as she makes her way back to her place. There’s sweat in the air and the slightest rasp of heavy breathing and she was not expecting company. Except that she should have. Under all of it is the smell of sandalwood, cinnamon and those flowers from across the sea.

When she makes her way inside there’s the little witch. Bare feet balanced on the balls of her toes, arms stretched out and straining as she fights a new couch. She’s losing ground as she tries to push it into place, and that alone demands the question how she got it here in the first place, how she’d moved the old one on her own and a moment later she’s on her knees with a loud gasp of surprise.

Only then does she seem to notice Marion and grins. “Su’prise?”

falls asleep with the TV on

So maybe the couch isn’t the worst. It’s certainly soft enough and the only memories attached to it are the ones they’re making. And maybe Marion doesn’t mind so much that someone so small manages to take up so much room, both physically and emotionally. The book she’d been reading out-loud falls to the floor and Marion doesn’t bother to reach for it, her hands are otherwise occupied. She’ll never really admit it but she likes the feel of Beth’s unruly locks beneath her fingers and if she moves, the girl was likely to wake up and realise just how late it was.Tells herself that she’ll send Beth away tomorrow, tell her that she can’t keep coming over when she pleases, that she doesn’t need the poetry and the softness. She’ll say a hundred cruel things, only half of which Beth will understand; the language is easy but maybe the witch is made of Teflon because no clue seems to stick.

The same promise Marion has made a handful of times, same promise she knows she’ll break when she drags the old afghan over those tiny shoulders.

gets to use the bathroom first

And it’s singing again that Marion wakes up to, this time from the bathroom where the door is open and bleeding steam into the rest of the house. The smell of coffee competes with soap, bacon with something softer, more delicately layered.

“But when we rise, is like strawberry fields. If I treated ya bad, ya bruise m’ face. Couldn’ love ya more, ya got a beautiful taste….”

And fists clench in the sheets. Half convinced that maybe she’s not as sweet and innocent as she appears, and is in fact, trying to kill Marion a little bit at a time. It’s almost insidious and that makes it all the more appealing.

With a half-swallowed groan, Marion drags herself up out of bed and chases the song.

decides the temperature for the ac/heater

She never complains about the heat. No matter how humid ~the kind where you shower on Monday and are still wet come Friday~ the air gets, no matter how much vitality it saps from every living thing for miles, Beth delights in it.She tells Marion stories about sandy beaches and the murmur of the ocean under skies that are endlessly blue. She talks about thriving jungles full of exotic plants and taking what you wanted to eat if you can reach up and grab it. She talks of riding the sea, compares Snowballs to Shave Ice. She talks of old friends and relatives, though never her parents. To hear her talk is to imagine she was born right out of the waves and given over to this fabled hero of a man who looks just like her. Marion has suffered graciously through endless pictures of him.

Once in a while, she says she misses snow, the only thing she ever really liked about New York aside from the people she knew. Says she prefers the bayou because it’s less crowded and quieter and it never really gets cold.

She doesn’t really know, does she, that sometimes the chill has nothing to do with the weather, and how heat is leeched out of the body as it cools under the snap of jaws. If she’s very, very lucky, she’ll never find out.

sets up holiday decorations

Days melt into one another, from spring to harvest. Days shorten in length until night becomes dominant and in the deeper parts, the glaring eye of the sun fails to thrive at all. Marion marks the passing of the seasons by what there is to hunt, and what grows. She doesn’t have much use for gourds that will only rot from the inside out, or trees pulled indoors and strung with lights and tinsel; proof against the long, hungry winter. Paper-hearts aren’t any substitute for the once-living kind.

But she indulges Beth because it’s harmless and it’s sweet and those are things that Marion isn’t so familiar with. And because trying to stop her is roughly like sifting through the Sahara with a child’s shovel and pail. She draws the line at matching costumes, though, even if it is Mardi Gras.

leaves the lights on

Marion asked about the lights, once. What she got was a tangled web of answers, all of which only made half sense. The fear of the dark had filled Beth since childhood, maybe before she’d ever left the womb. There were things that lived in it, a writhing mass of shadows. One in particular had singled her out and came to her in the night, stealing her ability to move, to think, to breathe. That even the smallest of lights could keep it away, or at least that’s what her brother had told her, which in turn, made it Gospel truth.

Marion’s not so sure. Some of the other things she’s said that her brother told her sometimes were wildly inaccurate if not flat-out wrong. But it seems to make the little witch feel safe in some ways. Makes her easier to find at night when she carries the lantern out to her grove.And maybe the one thing even the Rougarou isn’t so keen on snuffing out is that little glimmer of hope that radiates out from her.

uses the bathroom with the door open

Standing on ceremony wasn’t a thing for them, that sense of privacy used up after the first two months they’d known each other. She says body functions are all natural and that skin was the first clothing and weird things like that, and Marion is pretty sure it’s all just an excuse. The one thing though that she’s always hated is having her bare legs showing.So she waits.Perfectly motionless until she hears the sink running and the sound of bristles scraping teeth.  Leans a shoulder in the door way and takes a good long look.The scar is pretty bad, jagged in its pattern and runs from the back of her knee to just above the ankle on an otherwise shapely limb. There’s a marked lack of muscle that leaves it shrivelled, stunted in comparison. How strange it was. Marion knows how much of Beth has been consumed, and how savage the tearing of flesh, almost down to the bone. She’s watched as slowly the witch’s body has rebuilt itself time and again without blemish, without anything more than a sweetly muffled sigh or an agonised cry that becomes something else entirely {the girl’s wiring is off, the way pain and pleasure for her are so intertwined}, and she eventually dances away without any evidence of the feeding. So why was that different.She almost feels guilty again when she looks up and sees Beth staring at her from the cracked mirror, green eyes for once bearing a light of anger uncommon to her. 

She speaks in her Haole tongue, not the pidgin so reminiscent of Creole. “It’s from before. Nothing I can do now can fix it. Nothing anyone else can do can fix it. A reminder that all magick comes with a price and it’s usually paid in blood.” From a limb.From a brother.From her soul itself.“Excuse me, mele, I need to get dressed.”And she shuts the door. 

fixes the plumbing (or calls the plumber)

The miasma of piss, sweat, and fear vies with the natural wet decay of the bayou. The Rougarou had been patiently hunting it down for most of the night, toying with its source, baiting it. Had chased it to ground...and dropped the scent for mere moments. Thick saliva dripped down its wicked teeth, carrion breath hot and fetid pushing out from the spaces between. It snarled at this new development, unhappy by any stretch of the imagination. Had chased the pitiful creature into the witch’s domain, and that warding around her grove had interrupted the prey’s tracks.But even so, it couldn’t soak up her words as she condemned the cowering, pitiful mass of regrets and weapons.“I know what ya huntin’ for. An’ dis is where ya vigil against da dark ends.” She raises her blade but doesn’t strike the Hunter with it, merely points with it’s sharp tip. Her other hand contains a roughly man shaped doll, made of bleached bone, tanned sinew. “When it’s done wi'ya, wha’evah is lef’ gonna get scattered across da swamp as a warnin’.” She snapped a limb of the effigy and bone shatters in the man, his wail loud. “Any of ya kind dat makes it into da bayou gonna meet a similar fate.” Another snap, another limb and the man collapses to his knees, hands in fists supporting his weight.He tries to plead with her but her face is a mask as luminescent and impassive as the moon above the canopy. “This place is my home, an’ da beast belongs t’ me. T’ink of me as very jealous an’ vindictive.” Another limb, another scream. “An’ unnerstan’ dat I’m da last t’ink ya eyes will evah set upon.”

She continues to break the hunter, bit by bit, occasionally using her powers to keep him conscious and a live to prolong the pain and the suffering.

The hunter manages to almost make it to sunrise.

[lunafrey]

#FFXVWEEK DAY ONE (CHICKATRICE-EGG-RICE SOUP)

➙ Theme: worst cooks of eos, or frozen in time. (1185 words). ➙ Rating: K ➙  Summary: The soup probably wasn’t that bad - it did get Ignis’ approval, after all. ➙ FanFiction.net ➙ Archive of Our Own

“We’d best stay warm tonight,” Ignis said firmly. “Traversing through damp swamps and camping in the cold do not mix.”

The boys had just finished looking through a particularly wet cave. Nightfall was coming, and the temperature was dropping fast.

“We’ll be fine,” Prompto chirped, emerging out of the mouth of the cave. He was soaked, but didn’t seem to mind. “Just gotta get out of these wet clothes!”

“Speak for yourself.” Noctis trailed after Prompto, his dark hair plastered to his face. “I think I already feel a cold coming on.”

“Don’t jinx yourself.” Gladio was the last to emerge. He too had been a victim of the cave’s watery depths.

“We’ll be fine if we get a fire going,” Ignis continued, ignoring the grumbling coming from the others. “We can’t let ourselves catch cold. Altissia awaits, after all.”

“Psst, Noct.”

Noctis stirred, but stubbornly kept his eyes closed.

“Noct!”

“What?”

“What time is it?”

“Check your phone.”

“It’s dead!”

Noctis groaned and turned around to face Prompto. The tent was relatively cramped, so there wasn’t a lot of space for movement. He pulled his phone out from under his pillow, and squinted at the bright screen.

“It’s ten thirty,” he mumbled before closing his eyes.

A moment of silence passed.

“Wait, ten thirty?” Prompto repeated.

Noctis opened his eyes again. “That’s what I said.”

“Ten…thirty…?” Prompto said again. He sat up suddenly and looked over to the other side of the tent. “Iggy’s asleep!”

This time, Noctis sat up. Ignis usually had them out of bed and fed by six thirty at the latest, so this was incredibly unusual.

“Is he dead?” Prompto whispered.

“What? No.” Noctis poked Gladio, who opened his eyes immediately.

“What’s wrong?” he asked gruffly.

“It’s ten thirty and Ignis is still asleep,” Prompto said.

Gladio sat up and yawned. “Hey, Iggy.”

Ignis stirred for a moment before sitting up.

“It’s ten thirty,” Gladio told him.

Ignis’ eyebrows shot up. “I must have slept through my alarm.”

Gladio turned to look at Noctis and Prompto, who both shrugged.

“You sound like shit,” Gladio said, turning back toward Ignis.

“I’m fine.” Ignis’ voice was incredibly hoarse.

“Guess swamps and cold weather really don’t mix,” Prompto said, sighing.

It took an hour to convince Ignis to take the day off, and another half hour to convince him to spend the day in bed. After making sure he wasn’t going to budge, Noctis, Prompto, and Gladio left the tent.

“What do we do?” Prompto asked. He suddenly felt incredibly helpless – they all did. It was a bit jarring, considering that Ignis had been fussing over them all day every day for weeks.

“I’m going to go to town for medicine,” Gladio said, taking charge. “You two stay here and take care of Ignis.”

“Fine,” Noctis grumbled. He suddenly looked up and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “What are we gonna do about food?”

“I’ll bring dinner back,” Gladio promised, “but you two should probably figure something out for lunch. Can’t leave Iggy to starve.”

“Figure something out?” Noctis echoed. “We can’t coo – ”

“Leave it to us!” Prompto chirped. “Drive safe!”

Gladio looked at Noctis and Prompto suspiciously. “No setting the camp on fire.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Prompto said.

They watched in silence as Gladio left the haven and headed toward the car. As soon as he was out of sight, Noctis turned toward Prompto.

“We don’t know how to cook.”

“Well – yes,” Prompto admitted. “But we can figure it out!”

“Prompto,” Noctis groaned.

“It’s our chance to do something nice for Iggy,” Prompto said insistently. “He takes care of us all the time.”

“I know,” Noctis said, sighing. “I know. But what do we make?”

“He’s sick, so it’s gotta be soup.”

“Alright, soup. What kind of soup?”

“Let’s see what we’ve got!” Prompto walked over to Ignis’ meticulous cooking station and began to rummage through the cooler.

“Well?” Noctis peered over Prompto’s shoulder.

“We’ve got some meat – chickatrice, I think? – an egg, some rice, and tons of spices.”

“So we’re making chickatrice-egg-rice soup…with spices?” Noctis asked incredulously.

“Sounds like it.” Prompto grabbed all of the aforementioned ingredients and placed them on the tabletop.

“That’s a lot of spices,” Noctis observed.

“It’ll be fine! We’ll just add a dash from each pouch, and we’ll be good to go!”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Nope!” Prompto poured some rice into a bowl and pushed it into Noctis’ hands. “Get washing!”

An hour and one very small fire later, Noctis found himself pouring the soup into a bowl for Ignis.

“It doesn’t look that bad,” he admitted.

“Right? And Ignis makes it look so hard!” Prompto grabbed the steaming bowl and headed to the tent. Once inside, he nudged Ignis awake and pressed the bowl into his hands.

“What is this?” Ignis asked, peering into the bowl.

“We made you soup,” Prompto said proudly.

For a brief moment, Ignis had a series of very stressful flashbacks to all the times Noctis had attempted to cook in the past. The fact that Prompto had been involved in this particular cooking session did nothing to calm his nerves. But he could tell that they were proud of whatever it was they were feeding him, so he hid his apprehension and lifted a spoonful into his mouth. Noctis and Prompto stared at him intently.

“Well done you two,” he croaked.

“Really?!” Prompto gasped. Noctis, who had been holding his breath in suspense, let out a huff of air.

“Yes,” Ignis assured them. “It has me feeling better already.”

Ignis settled himself in front of the fire when sunset came, a cup of hot tea in his hands. He heard the stomping of boots as Gladio returned to the haven.

“How’re you feeling?” Gladio asked.

Just then, Prompto and Noctis rushed by, saying something about taking a picture of the sunset. Prompto also, very hurriedly, mentioned that he and Noctis were Eos’ master chefs. Gladio watched them rush to the far end of the haven, where Prompto was setting his tripod up.

“Much better, thank you,” Ignis said.

“Well, you sound it,” Gladio said. “They feed you?”

“They did. What did you bring back?”

Gladio placed his bags by Ignis. “Dinner, and some cold medicine.” He walked over to the cooking station, where the small pot of soup was sitting. Ignis got up and followed him. He began to take plates out for dinner.

Gladio found a clean spoon and took a mouthful of soup. A mouthful which he immediately shuddered at.

“This is what they fed you?” he asked, coughing.

“Is it bad?” Ignis asked serenely, spooning food out onto the plates.

“Uh, yeah, it’s pretty terrible,” Gladio laughed.

“Hmm. Well, to be completely honest with you, I can’t taste a bloody thing. Could you pass me those bowls, please?”