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iznsfw · 10 months

Text

Drunken

Loossemble's Son Hyeju x Male Reader Smut

19,012 words

Categories | cheating, longtimecrush!Hyeju, mutual feelings, drunk sex, daddy kink (and daddy issues), fingering, squirting, titfucking, anal, choking

Thank you for commissioning! Researched for the fic, ended up falling in love with Son Hyeju. Please give this a chance and read this for the story, too, and not only the smut. I indulged too much in this.

The relationship Hyeju and OC have is very much inspired by the one Cassy and Rob have in In the Woods by Tana French. Read it, please. Was amazing. The story was also written with someone I'm currently so in love with in mind, but we're not going to talk about that here.

And no, there's never enough daddy kink stories :P

“This is not fair,” the two of you say the very second you step into your shared dorm.

Two papers in two hands of two people that show two scores that aren’t up to par for the two’s standards. You and Hyeju were always meant to be a dynamic duo: peas in a pod in every way possible, and that includes academic success and failure. It’s like there’s a kind of telepathic force between you that sends the other down with you, too. It’s too late to try and cut the connection when you’ve known Hyeju all your life, a wish that’s beyond reality for plenty of the boys at Idalso.

The dorm is clean. Mostly. You’ve done your best to tidy up the pile of clothes at the end of Hyeju’s bunk bed and she’s done the same for the relatively empty bags of chips you haven’t stopped the habit of laying around, but there’s still the telltale signs that if Hyeju isn’t organized, you aren’t either. Printed drafts of your thesis lay crumpled on the floor. Her posters are minutes away from falling off the poorly painted walls. The air-conditioner doesn’t work as well as it did in your freshman year when your rowdiness outdoors—knocking into each other, trying to race to the door and ending up messing up the other’s clothes that were ironed in a rush—isn’t as compensating.

Today, the rowdiness is lost. It gets translated into rough groans that follow you on the way to the dorms.

That’s when you realize it.

You and Hyeju look at each other. Both of your pairs of eyes widen.

“Miss Ha failed your test?” she asks, normally bored pupils widening in disbelief.

“Miss Ha failed my test.”

“No erasure rule?”

“No erasure rule.”

“Oh my god.”

Ball up the paper and shoot it in the air. It adds to the numerous pieces of parchment on the floor. You kick the rest of them in the air while your roommate slumps on her bed and groans.

“Fuck this,” you say, hands on your head. There comes the urge to tear all your hair out and leave it at that damned professor’s door, blood and all, to make her at least feel a miniscule bit of remorse for failing you. You didn’t deserve that. You studied and studied and she still had to implement that stupid rule.

Hyeju catches a wrinkled and crumpled paper globe. Her sui generis lips release a soft sigh. “At least we have thesis confetti,” she says sullenly.

“I’m dropping out,” you declare. You’re surprised at how serious you sound. Normally you’d say it just to get a laugh out of yourself, but now you’re actually considering doing it.

“If you drop out, I’m dropping out, too,” she answers, looking at you spitefully. “And then who’s going to take care of Daniel?”

Think of Daniel. He isn’t your roommate but he’s gotten close with you and Hyeju the past few years. “His inheritance is what’s gonna take care of him. Did you forget he’s rich as shit?”

“Oh, right. How could I forget about him?”

You start picking up the papers of your drafts faster and knocking them harder into the wall. Why are you doing that? Nope, don’t have an answer to that. There’s a fiery rage inside you that Hyeju’s latest sentence is the arsonist of.

“The fuck are you doing?” she asks in amusement. There’s a hint of disgust on her face. “Calm down. What’re you, my dad or something?”

“S-sorry.” You know the whole deal she has with her dad. You have to stop—thus, drop the balls of papyrus from your hand. “It was just… I don’t know why I did that.”

Maybe you do. Can’t be about the test though it’s why you started throwing a thesis tantrum.

“Chill out, dude.” She pats your shoulder and gives you a pouty look. “If you want to play strict dad with me: no, I don’t like Daniel. If I did, I would have sat on his lap and said,” she assumes a high voice and flutters her eyelashes at you, leaning on your side, “‘Let me help you with that, darling. I’ll do the dishes, too! Or maybe you want to put a baby in me while I squeeze the soap on your di—’”

“Stoooop!”

Throw a pillow at her. She dodges it and sticks her tongue out at you. Oh yeah. How could you forget that she plays dodgeball with the friend who’s taken up the topic of your conversation?

Oh god, shouldn’t have reminded yourself that Hyeju and your other friend hang out. You’re feeling weird again.

“Earth to daddy, Earth to daddy,” she says, snapping her fingers in front of your face. “Li’l shit, what’s gotten into you?”

You’re feeling something again. It creeps into your heart and tugs at its strings, just like how your roommate loves to tie knots in yours and watch you struggle around trying to walk with them. That’s how it felt when she called you that. It’s not the first time she took on a roleplaying banter with you yet that specific title has you hot.

You need to take a walk. Take a walk to somewhere that doesn’t have you in a place where you could easily pin Son fucking Hyeju to the wall and kiss her till the heat subsides.

Walking is your only exercise. You care not for the gyms and weights—why pressure yourself with those when you could just go for a simple walk? An hour is already sufficient enough to burn the breakfast. Only downside is that you get quite hungry afterwards, and though you don’t care for counting calories either, you’re pretty sure the food you have after your strolls is more than the amount you burned.

Actually, you could think of another downside: Hyeju doesn’t join you. She’s a homebody. A couch potato. A living pillow. She prefers to lounge at the dorm and play games instead of going out. She rarely comes along, which is why you’re guaranteed a few hours of isolation.

When you take into consideration that it isn’t isolation if tentative feelings accompany you, you’re partly glad Hyeju didn’t come along.

“Hey, is that you?”

You smile. There he is. You always pass by the apartments this time, and the old man who owns it is one of the few people you’re fond of. Being friends with a landlord wasn’t on your college bingo card, but you’re glad it happened. He’s kind, has white hair that almost matches the color of the spaces he owns, and a mouth that can simultaneously be like that of a sailor’s and a doting grandfather.

“Hi, mister Kim.”

“Hi there yourself,” he chirps. His smile is bright. Can’t say the same about the flickering bulb back in your dorm. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

Red colors your cheeks. “Hyeju’s not my girlfriend.”

“Never said she was.” He winks.

The explosion of scarlet first starts at your ears. He got you. But it isn’t exactly you to blame—everyone likes to push you and your girl best friend together. The old man knows what he’s doing. He just likes to toy around with you.

“Mister Kim, don’t be like that,” you say. Scratch the back of your neck.

“I’ll be however the hell I want,” he replies, crossing his arms t in a friendly stance. “You two’re always glued to each other.”

“We’re just friends, sir.”

“Just friends my ass. Whenever that girl visits me, she’s always talking about you. It’s like you’re the only thing on her mind.”

That revelation was so out of nowhere, yet you welcome it. You like knowing that Hyeju, the girl you adore, adores you just as much. It’s the mutual feeling of fondness that keeps you breathing.

“T-that doesn’t mean anything,” you say humbly. You’re somewhat right—just because Hyeju hides the truth that she drones on about you doesn’t mean she has a crush on you. You’ve seen and met her exes, and even back then they’re miles more charming than you.

“Wanna bet?”

“I’m broke—”

“No, no. Not in that way.” He shakes his head. “If you and Hyeju actually end up together, I’m letting you live in one of my apartments for free.”

“Mister Kim—”

“Think about it for your old man, will you?”

With that, he shows you a knowing smile and turns his back. Nothing more is said.

Just so it’s clear for everyone who comes across this story of yours: you don’t love Son Hyeju.

Anyone and everyone says the opposite. They treat you and her like famed characters on a popular teen show, pairing you up with each other and tearing off all hesitancy about thinking that they might be going too far.

But now you’re here to make a stand against those falsehoods: contrary to popular belief, Son Hyeju isn’t the love of your life, and although you’ve been friends for so long people’d expect you walked into kindergarten class with your hand in hers, it’s completely platonic between the two of you.

There are no feelings. No speck of a disgusting yearning in your hearts despite the late night stroll you had to take to stop your wistful thoughts. No sir. Hyeju doesn’t love you that way, and neither do you. It’s simple.

Doesn’t seem that simple when you wake up in the dorm with what’s supposed to be a groan that folds itself back down your throat when you see her curled up in the other bed, blankets splayed and curled around her. No makeup on, except for lip balm she smears around her triangle-shaped mouth when they get chapped. No care for how she looks in the air (doesn’t matter when that’s the way you like it, the way she likes it). She lies there with slumber that could only be induced by an unmerciful college.

You’re glad you have her while you’re battered by the same cause of her sleep.

You try to be silent but her eyes open anyway. Her eyes are squinted, and she kind of looks like an emoticon as she pers around. She doesn’t know when or where she is. Grin because neither do you sometimes, but now that you hold that knowledge, you share it with her.

“Earth to Hyeju, Earth to Hyeju.” Echo her words from last night and resound them back to her.

“Earth?” she groans. “Wake me up when Idalso sends me to Mars.”

Yeah, that’s the Hyeju you know. The Hyeju you love.

(Huh? Where did that come from?)

“I’ll go with you. Could use miss Jeong not trying to kill me.”

Hyeju runs a hand through her hair groggily and smiles sweetly. “Maybe she should come along and go through with killing you if you don’t stop ‘forgetting’ to pay me that five thousand.”

“Cute. I’ll pay you later, I promise.” Rise to sling the blinds up, letting light five-thirty a.m. sun spill through the squares. “Catch some breakfast at McDonald’s before class?” you offer. She’s your usual companion in the morning—you’d split the bill (because “you’re broke, and I’m broke,” she said, “it’s only fair we try to stop being poor together”) and have a nice opening meal of egg and chicken nuggets.

“Sweetie, it’s Saturday today,” she reminds you. “Don’t you remember?” She looks up from her phone and smiles at you condescendingly, as if she knew how that friendly nickname causes your system to shut down.

You try not to show it. Try not to make it obvious that you turned your head to hide the fact that you were flustered. The fact that despite being only friends with her your chest still tightens at her casual pet names for you, like what she called you last night as well. It’s what friends do: joke with each other, call them unflattering names one second then sweet ones the next. The dorm has enough fans to keep the air circulated, and the sweat you broke last night is gone. So if that’s that, why do you feel so warm right now?

You wonder if Hyeju also feels the same heat in her stomach when you say, “Grandpa can’t remember things well anymore, darling. You’ve got to cut him some slack.”

“Wow, okay. That’s one way to put it, I guess.”

It’s lucky that it’s still dark enough for your red ears to be invisible. You hate it when you mess up your laid-back persona in front of Hyeju, the one you put up whenever you engage in these playful arguments. “Look,” you say, “do you want to get McDonald’s or not?”

“Can’t. Won’t. Shan’t. Too lazy.”

Your heart sinks. “Fine, I’ll just go to a café then. Still have that thesis to do.”

Hyeju lays back into the bed and shuts her eyes. She’s learned that when there’s a chance to sleep, she should take it. To you, it doesn’t look like she’ll let go of this one, even if rejecting it means eating together with you.

You put on a coat and some shoes, then turn away. Fine, let her be like that. What did you even expect? You can’t be her only priority in life. Sleep, of course, and rest should come first, especially if you’re a college student. You have to brush the hurt creeping in your heart and do your own thing, just like you’d let her do hers.

Don’t catch her eyes opening and lingering on you. Your back is turned and therefore doesn’t let you see it. But if only you did, you wouldn’t have been doubtful about your future concerns, all related to her.

This is a different story though. This isn’t a love story—if anything, it’s how a love story ends.

Just so it’s clear for everyone who comes across this story of yours: you don’t love Son Hyeju.

Yes, it bears repeating. Sometimes you need to say it again to convince yourself. Convince yourself that you’re not constantly in lectures wishing that it was her beside you instead of your groupmate. Convince yourself that your soul doesn’t shatter in pieces when she refuses to join you in anything.

Maybe you just need someone to talk it out with. Yes, that’s right. The whimsical yearning in your heart isn’t for Hyeju. You swear on it.

Oh, but you’ve never been very good at that.

“What’s going on? I came as quick as I could,” says Daniel. Yeah, that’s his name. It’s a common name that sounds foreign and unique, especially since he’s a transfer student who came from the U.S.. He has pale skin and brown eyes that are as kind as he is. You like him—he’s the only one you bother bearing besides Hyeju.

But this isn’t about her. You need to let go of her. What? “Let go of her”? Why do you think about her like you two were actually a thing?

“Nothing. Just… feelings.”

“Something happened?” He sits down and looks around confusedly. “Wait, where’s Hyeju?”

“That’s the thing,” you say as you smile tightly. “She’s what happened.”

Daniel’s not stupid. And even if we say that he was, he’s been your friend for two years. It’s short in comparison to your time with Hyeju, you know, but it remains impressive. You don’t have that many friends besides them. That, of course, eventually led to Hyeju and Daniel becoming friends with each other. That’s the reason for him catching your drift—he knows you like the back of his hand.

You order the third cheapest option on the list: an iced latte. Your friend opts for a croissant and some tea, something that reminds you that he isn’t actually from Korea. You often forget that when his Korean is more fluent than a native’s and he gels with other people so quickly. He’s an easy-going guy with everything flowing well for him.

“Let me guess: she did something?” he asks. Alright, close enough. His fingers drum a steady rhythm on the table while yours do so on your laptop keyboard.

“Yeah.” Shake your head immediately and contradictingly. What are you saying? “No. Yeah, probably. But I think it’s my fault.”

No, it isn’t a mere probability of it being your fault. It is your fault. Why are you placing expectations on Hyeju to show up for you? It isn’t on her that you get hurt when she doesn’t have the time or willpower to come along with you. So, why are you even bothering to talk about this? You should let this matter slide. Brush it under the carpet. Rewrite the news headlines. Whatever.

“Ah, couple’s quarrels,” Daniel says teasingly. He thanks the waiter for his croissant then takes a healthy bite into it. “Out of the honeymoon phase already?”

Should you be delighted that people think that she’s yours and you’re hers? You’re split between these two emotions—choose to be frustrated instead.

“Why does everybody think that we’re a couple?”

“Well.” Your friend twirls his teaspoon into the dainty cup. Drill your eyes on it. The café is simple and affordable to eat from, but the furniture and aesthetic make you think of it as a fancier place to eat it. “You’re always together.”

“That’s all?”

“Let me finish. When some guy has the balls to ask her out, she says she has a boyfriend. She shows him your profile and number. She goes, ‘My boyfriend wouldn’t be too happy about that.’”

The latte somehow doesn’t finish its journey through the straw. “She does?”

You’re split between two thoughts to go by again. You should be happy that your friend, a friend who’s a girl moreover (never confuse a friend who’s a girl with a girlfriend—ever), feels safe enough with you to refer to you as someone who’d protect her, whether from creeps or the aggressive dogs that patrol your college grounds. It takes real trust to call a guy who’s a friend (again, avoid the confusion) your boyfriend when the time requires it. This means she trusts you to come to her if she needs saving from an odd guy or an escape out of situations.

But at the same time, you wonder if that’s what you really are to her, what you’ll only ever be to her: a fake boyfriend. The guy friend who doesn’t mind being called a boyfriend because he knows his low place in her heart. Does Hyeju even look at you as someone who’s not just an acquaintance?

“Yeah,” Daniel says matter-of-factly. “She really likes having you around.”

You don’t need to think about it when you reply, softly: “I do, too.”

The two of you sit in silence you don’t know the source of. Daniel stops eating suddenly. Similarly, all the appetite is lost and you have to put your plastic cup of latte down before you throw it at the wall and ruin the dining experience for everyone else. No, this is your problem. You should deal with it before dragging anyone into it.

“So, why did you call me? What is it about Hyeju?”

Ah, what are you thinking? Daniel shouldn’t even be here. Why did you even call him over? You did and now you don’t know why you suddenly want to throw the contents of your plastic cup into his face. If you give in, you’d be feeding into the delusion that he’s the one standing between you and Hyeju.

That only leads to the second question of the day:

Why do you suddenly hate Daniel? Daniel is a nice guy. He doesn’t even make a move on her or disrespect her.

You don’t like these feelings. It’s causing you to think all sorts of nonsense about everybody else, not excluding Daniel, who hasn’t done anything wrong.

“I…” Sigh. This is the second time you’re finding an escape route so that you could be alone with your feelings. “I have to think about it. I need some time alone.”

“Oh, sure. Sorry about that.”

Hate how more guilt washes over your heart. See here, he doesn’t even protest or say something that might even be right, like tell you how you called him to come over in the first place or how there isn’t a good reason why he should leave. He simply wraps his croissant with a plastic he asked for at the counter and leaves, tea and all.

Great. Now you’re alone, like you usually are and always will be. Attempt to use it as a pro and work on your thesis. Type it all down on a Word document. Wait patiently, as you learned to, as your old laptop stops for the suffering you’ve caused it with the extra storage taken up by assignments. Contact your groupmates. Remind them to do their jobs.

It’s all going so well. That’s when she pulls up to the cafe you’ve been writing at with her hands perched on the wooden surface of your table, with the smirk that doesn’t ever leave without making sure it’s her certified look featured on her lips.

No need to mention names when there's only one girl who could make your world stop spinning.

You can’t stop staring, and it’s not even because she turned up out of nowhere. You’re always in a state of shock when Hyeju is around.

She never allows her hair to be restrained in a tight tail, so there she is with those luscious black locks spilling all over her shoulders. How she manages to look so cool and be the very person everyone wishes to be while having those soft cheeks only the evillest of people wouldn’t pinch you don’t know. Son Hyeju is cool and cute at the same time, somehow balancing those everyday without effort.

But you don’t love her. Just to remind everyone once again. No matter what happens, you have no feelings for her. And that’s that.

"Hey," she says, putting her weight on one arm. Then she curves down her head to peer at your screen. "Whatchu doin'?"

Immediately slam your laptop shut and look at her with annoyed eyes. Oh, why do you even try? You could never despise her. You could pray to god all night and day for you to hate Hyeju, to hate her to the ends of the Earth just to banish these strange feelings, and he wouldn't give in. Crazier and crazier her antics shall get and you'd remain loyal to her.

And that's all because she's a good friend. That's everything there is to it.

Wait. Who are you convincing again?

"Oh, come on. Smile a little, pretty boy." Hyeju places a finger on one edge of your mouth then pulls it upwards. "There you go. Suh-miiile—"

Pretty boy. She called me a pretty boy.

"You p-plan on getting off the table or what?" you say.

People are staring at you and Hyeju but that isn't what's making you blush. What's gotten into you? You can't tell yourself it's because of her simply because it isn't because of her. Hyeju has as much effect on you as a cup of coffee.

(You thrive off caffeine, by the way, but that's not the point.)

"Sure. No. Uh… probably?" She looks up at the ceiling as if she's figuring something out, then clicks her tongue when she does. "Yep, nah."

Groan.

Secretly, confessed only in the deepest corners of your mind, you like people paying attention to you and Hyeju. It’s not much about the attention itself but the way it makes them think that the two of you must be really close. Like, really really close. The kind that makes those who want Hyeju rush to her only to be met in the face with a barrier: you. They can’t have her because you do.

Not in that way, of course, but it still means something. If she has you, nobody else could, and if you have her, more so.

"Son Hyeju,” you say, fighting back the smile on your face as she ruffles your hair, “I swear to god—"

"Oh, please," says Hyeju, leaning forward with narrowed eyes and a wicked smile, "spare me, oppa. Spare me the blasphemy—"

That's enough from her, you think. Your hands dive for her waist. Pull her down onto your lap. Your thighs soften the blow and also play the role of a launch pad as one kick sends Hyeju in the air. More chances to tickle her come along with it. Okay, that bit about the lap was wholly unintentional, and you'll swear to god again for that.

What isn't unintended though is the tickling you do on Hyeju's midriff and arms. It helps that she's so sensitive—soon she's laughing boisterously, struggling in your lap with her head upturned and triangle-shaped mouth letting out unkempt guffaws. She nearly kicks the two of you out of the café seat.

"Dude, you are such a loser, stop!" she laughs, still winding around like a screw on top of you. Laughs alternate between each syllable. "P-people are looking, fffucking quit—"

When that beautiful gummy smile breaks on her face, you don't want to. People can look as much as they like and you wouldn't give a damn. Tickling is Hyeju's punishment, and you'll do it to her anywhere to teach her a lesson.

"Ha, haha, I'm sorry, okay!"

"That's my girl."

You’re not hurt anymore. For a few delicious minutes, you’ll forget you were ever pondering if you like her or not.

Stop completely because you’re easy to convince like that All she needed was that one magic word. Place her on the chair beside you and fold her hands on her lap as if she were a misbehaving child.

"Now behave yourself."

Hyeju rolls her eyes. "And if I don't?" she challenges you.

You raise your fingers in a curled position and direct them threateningly centimeters away from her ticklish spots. She gives up. She can't find a punishment worse than that.

"Why are you here anyway? I thought you didn’t want to come," you say, taking the liberty to open your laptop again. The screen directs you to your assignment tab after you type in your password. Sigh; still five thousand words to go.

"I'm here because I've got nowhere else to be," she answers. She practices her own liberty, too, and sips shamelessly at your iced beverage.

Her eyes light up at the taste. "I got bored being alone in the dorm."

You think of her alone, and your heart immediately sinks. Maybe you should have stayed there. You’re her roommate—you’re there for her to have company. Sure, the roommates were paired up randomly, but it must lead to something now that you and Hyeju have met again. It was by pure chance that she reunited with you after years of being apart. There’s a string drawing you together, and you don’t know what it means.

You do know that the reunion with your childhood best friend and seeing how she’s grown made your heart flutter. You act all mean when you’re around her, which is confusing when you’ve missed her so much.

"And I needed somewhere else to finish this thesis before miss Wong realizes it was due three weeks ago." Glare pointedly at her. Here you go again. Told you so. "Somewhere that's not occupied by a brat."

It's true. Call it what you will: an insult, a pointless accusation, but what you said rings true even in your childhood best friend's defiant mind. She could be a handful often.

"I am not a brat," she says, offended. She knows the truth and chooses to deny it. Typical. You should have seen that coming when she’s the girl who lies about the extra dishes in the sink not being her fault and her turn with the laundry.

Sigh. Act as the lawyer; you’re studying to be one anyway. It’s best to practice. "Remember when you cut up the slogan on the mayo label then taped it on me? I had 'white creamy filling; taste me!' on my back for the whole day!"

"It was a big-ass sticker for a mayonnaise, okay? I couldn't stop myself." Hyeju admits this with hands raised in defeat. "But what about that time you shoved a Toblerone in my mouth while I was sleeping then took a photo of me?"

Raise your hands, too. You realize there's no way to weigh in the blame on a single person when you and Hyeju brought the brat out of each other. It's impossible to go by a day that isn't filled by at least one prank and joking quarrels.

Still, you find it fun. Hyeju's so easy to bond with, so easy to love.

Whoa, where did that suddenly get here? Like you said, you love Hyeju, but only as a friend.

So you do love her, in a way. Huh.

That realization settles in and suddenly you're rendered frozen at the table. Your hands that ought to be finishing your schoolwork are frozen in mid-air. You're staring at the screen like you were watching a gory movie instead of trying to tick off your to-do list.

"You okay?" she asks, one-of-a-kind lips sealed around the paper straw. "You kind of, like, went to another dimension for a bit."

How do you tell her you’re considering the fact that you might actually like her? You’ve known her for years. Something’s inevitably going to bloom inside you for her, right?

"Y-yeah. I'm good." Not. “And stop drinking my coffee.”

“You wouldn’t need it if you just did the thesis early. What’s so hard about it anyway?” Hyeju stands then bends over to glance at your laptop.

You don’t realize how short her dress is. It rides up to the centers of her thighs and you don’t know how to prevent anyone from seeing something forbidden without brushing down the hem of her dress. If you went down that road, you’d have to run your hand along her back and ass—you’d look like a pervert.

Idiot. Think of something. Something that isn’t how you’d love to see more when you're just like everyone and shouldn't be allowed more eye access to her body. Only you know how many times Hyeju’s body came up in your mind when you were alone. Paired up with that attractive face that held a permanent pout, it’s impossible not to think of anything else.

“Ugh! You are so dumb, you know that, oppa?” To your horror, Hyeju sits down neatly on your lap. She has her hands quickly frisking on your keyboard. “There’s a comma missing here, and a citation over here… oh, and a—”

“Save some for the rest of us!” a man about your age and height yells jokingly, cheering you on with a raise of his mug of hot coffee.

Both you and Hyeju look at him with confusion written all over your faces. Your words of surprise almost sync and match with the other for you realize your hands are on her hips, and Hyeju’s leaning back so comfortably in you that anyone would have thought it was another case of couple’s PDA. They’d be wrong though. She’s not your girlfriend. She can’t be your girlfriend.

So why is she so comfortable on top of you, as if she’s always been there? Why did your hands naturally rest on the beautiful slopes of her hips and pull her down the moment she stooped?

The guy’s grandmother smiles adoringly. “Young love,” she says with a dreamy tinge to her aged voice. "What wouldn't I give to experience that again."

You and Hyeju meet each other’s gazes and suddenly you’re unattached to each other. She guiltily settles on her chair and you take your hands off her. That was wrong. Why were the two of you so comfortable with being so touchy? Best friends don’t do that. At least, not best friends of the opposite sex.

“I should go,” she stammers, standing up. “Call me i-if you need help, oppa.”

Just like that, she’s gone. Where did she go? Why did you lose her so fast?

Hyeju’s always called you oppa one way or another, but that moment left a particular jar in your heart. It shards the depths of the core and renders you speechless. You didn’t know that the person you’d love to hear that title the most from is your best friend. She’s supposed to call you that when she’s younger, but even if she weren’t, you’d still love to hear her call you that.

There’s a sense of fulfillment in being able to be Hyeju’s oppa. The one she always relies on. The one she sticks to through whatever happens. That’s why now that she’s told you to call her if you need help makes you ache. It’s the things that are seemingly so simple as that that send more yearning inside you.

The question is: what exactly are you yearning for? Who are you yearning for?

You think you know the answer. It’d take guts to admit it, to finally come clean. But what’s there to come clean about? You don’t love Hyeju.

A ding from your phone just now. You’re nearly finished with the thesis, and it’s lucky that way since it’s from Hyeju. God knows she has ways of distracting you. Her clean moves at the dance she led and her chill yet stern voice when she commands a rowdy classroom steer you away from what you should be doing, like get away from her. Avoid her at all costs. Never tell her what you’re feeling because it’ll only end up badly for everyone involved. You don’t want to hurt Hyeju, and still you remain hopeful to not get yourself hurt, too.

It takes several seconds for courage to tie you down and pick up the phone. It’s a series of texts from her.

HyejU_U: hey

Sooooooooo

I’m sorry for what happened earlier.

I didn’t really think and thought that you'd be fine with it

cause yknow

You pulled me down

and

We’re friends.

right?

Yeah, we’re friends, you think bitterly. And no matter how touchy you get, Son Hyeju, it’s all we’ll ever be to you.

HyejU_U: can we just move forward from it? If you want to ofc

Do you? Graduation is near and it’s still taken plenty of years of your life to get over Hyeju. Do you go forward and start on a new slate with her, or dwell in places you shouldn’t be?

Your fingers linger on the keyboard, then—

You: Sure.

Sorry, too

if i like

Made you feel uncomfortable

Wasnt my intention, i promise

HyejU_U: oh you didnt make me feel uncomfy at all.

So don’t worry <3

What a relief.

HyejU_U: i should be the one apologizing anyway

I thought it would be nice to be on you since ur arms feel good around me

Cock a brow. A giddy smile itches at the ends of your lips. Stifle it you will, though she can’t see you through her screen.

HyejU_U: sorry again

i just wanted to see if what i thought was true

Anyways.

yeah, sorry.

You: so we’re good?

HyejU_U: we have a deal, dickface

;)

See, this is the thing you’re afraid to lose with Hyeju: the carefreeness of your little friendly touches and hugs, insults that take it just far enough, everything. If you told her how you felt (keep in mind that you might not actually like her romantically; you’re just thinking that you might), you’d lose your relationship with her—the one that formed before the two of you even knew what romance was. The one that’s kept the reunion as natural as could be without the need for awkwardness.

You’re so glad to have her back. As a student you’ve nearly cried knowing you passed a semester and worked night and day to finish a difficult assignment—none of those feelings can match the one of relief you felt when Hyeju told you everything was good on both ends.

But for now, you’ve gotta try to put a dent into this thesis. You’re almost done, you swear. You’ve just been stalling—not intentionally. You swear on that, too. Your whole afternoon’s been swamped up in thoughts about her plus the thoughts about if you’re too perverted a man to be with her. There are a lot of questions left by you immediately responding to Hyeju choosing to sit on your lap. A lot of which are left unanswered.

Priorities. Sigh a little; there’s still work to be done, yet worrying about your best friend is on top of the list. You really should find a hobby when you’re already dragging your teammates behind. Plus, there’s the capstone to worry about that you haven’t prepared for even in the most miniscule bit. So there really shouldn’t be an explanation for why thinking about what she thinks of you is your number one priority. Why, you have plenty of other things to worry about.

You just can’t get her off your mind. These days it’s impossible to.

Abstain anyway, the best you can, from thinking about her and finally complete the thesis. It’s lengthy, well-edited, and has the perfect format to finally make you a lawyer. Attorney doesn’t sound too bad when it’s added to the front of your name.

You should celebrate, actually. The moment you think of it, Daniel suddenly messages you. He’s saying something about it being a Saturday, so you should go to the bar with him. You’re a social drinker, anyway. You could go there without going overboard. Addictions and vices form in these years of fresh adulthood, but you’ve never found yourself wound up in something.

So you do. They ask for your IDs and let you in after a short study of the cards. The guard gives you a lengthy lecture about not being alcoholics as young as you are, but welcomes you anyway.

If we’re talking about getting yourself wound up in someone, though…

“Dude,” Daniel says. He motions his glass to someone coming from the door. “Hyeju.”

You already know he’s rich, but what teacher did he pay to study him into mind-reading? “I wasn’t thinking about her,” you tell him defensively.

“No, I mean, she’s here.” He stares at said woman walking over to the bar with swaying hips. “How the fuck did she get here?”

Hyeju’s here? Swallow. Quick. What do you say? Where exactly in the bar is she right now? Why is she here? When did she get here? Why the fuck are you talking like a news reporter?

“Hullo, boys.” She stops your train of thought and makes sure to dedicate all of them to her with her hands set on the table and a pretty crop top attached to the curves on her perfect body. You wonder where she got that dress. If she thrifted it, it isn’t obvious—her body does good work in making it look like couture.

“Hi, Hyeju.” Daniel acknowledges her with a nod. He’s a friend of yours and hers, just to remind everyone. He wouldn’t take another step with Hyeju, but you still have yourself staring daggers into his stubbled beard that lines his face and how he takes life as he would a game. There’s a reason why you’re the least tipsy among the two of you. He likes a challenge.

“Hi,” you say meekly. Hope your voice doesn’t sound twisted when your stomach suddenly is. Oh, and it’s not because of Hyeju. It’s the alcohol, pinky promise with a finger heart after. Alcohol’s never made your stomach turn this way though.

Hyeju regards the shotglasses. “You went drinking without me?”

“What does it look like?” Daniel asks, giving her the finger. It’s just the usual friendly argument that doesn’t cross lines or anything. The ones that you and Hyeju have. Why do you feel like punching him in the face?

Luckily, she doesn’t have a fragile heart. “Cute. Keep it that way.” She rolls her eyes then turns to you. “Oh, and you. I thought you liked having me around.”

“I’m sorry.” Ask the bartender for another shot then hand it to her. “I guess we just thought you were busy with training.”

She’s training to become an idol. It’s been her dream since she was a kid, when you played in the slides and dropped from monkey bars. She’s always told you she was going to be big someday, and you never doubted that for a second. She even had a name she planned to use if she were to be a performer: Olivia Hye. You weren’t gonna lie, it had a nice ring to it. Not too bad for a name she made up after skimming through a baby name book from the bookstore.

“I dropped out,” she says simply, downing the shot like water.

“What?” you and Daniel ask together. Both of your voices sync with the shock, too. Neither of you could get why she did that. It’s been Hyeju’s dream to become an idol for so long. She couldn’t give that up just like that, but she did.

“Yep.” There’s pride in her voice. “The whole thing was a shithole. I already have Idalso to deal with. I’m not gonna put up with that, fuck no.”

Your heart aches for her dream. Idalso University really is blocking her from achieving it. She could be out there on the stage, maybe having found a better agency, singing and dancing her heart out. Instead, she has to choose one problem at the time and hence goes with college. She has her own parents to please, and because you have yours, you get it. You truly do.

As for Hyeju getting a problem off her mind, like that terrible agency, your spirits lift. You raise a glass and clink it with hers.

“To getting the hell out of this shithole,” you say; look at the girl you’ve lived for and loved with a smile, “and Son fucking Hyeju for doing it again.”

Your glasses meet. You’re somehow happy that it’s only two, yours and hers, that join. You can’t explain it for the life of you, but you like seeing Daniel become like a background character to it all. Just another extra in Hyeju’s show and yours. It’s cruel, especially when he’s been nothing but a good friend, but it is what it is.

“Tell you what,” Daniel says. “Let’s go to a noraebang tomorrow.”

She’s contemplative. “Isn’t the one near Idalso… like, expensive?”

“So what?” He shrugs. “You did it, Hyeju. You got out of that company thing. I’m done with my capstone and so is he with his thesis. I say we all have some fun. On me.”

Daniel has the privilege of not worrying about things being expensive or not. It’s the norm for him. You kind of want him to play Dorothy and put himself in your shoes, then make him go through what you did.

You know it isn’t fair and he’s just being kind. Still and all, your hatred rises.

“What now?” Daniel asks. “You guys in!”

“Of course!” Hyeju nods and claps her hands together. There’s a gummy smile on her face again. You’ve seen it on her many times, but you’ve also seen the sunset everyday—therefore, you’ll still be glad to catch a glimpse of it.

You guess since she’s in, you have to go, too. You say yes and that of course you’d love to go, and this time three glasses clink together prettily. Smiles are on each of your faces albeit yours is artificial.

"Could you act any less like a deadbeat dad?" Hyeju asks. She sits down on the stool beside you after Daniel leaves to get some air. Still feels like he's here when you feel like everyone's eyes are on you and her.

"I'm not doing anything." You say that because you aren't. You definitely aren't stirring a brew of jealousy inside you that poisons the maker, too. You're its creator yet the prophecy that was written tells that it'll turn against you, too. You’re Kronos, and it's an inevitable fate.

"Exactly. That's what deadbeat means." This matter-of-fact statement from her is followed by Hyeju stealing your shotglass out of your hand right before you drink it. "Seriously, dude. What's up with you?"

Oh, you don't know. Maybe her possibly being your crush? It's such an immature matter, but you haven't had a crush like this. The others were just sweet-faced and from afar. Those are the girls you dream of. To have a girl like Hyeju, the one you've known since forever, with a spunky personality but an opposing pretty face, the one who's been your ride-or-die—it's complicated.

What else could you say to her when the truth is something you'd rather she not hear?

"I'm fine, Hye."

"Are you? You look…" She thinks about it for a while as she studies your hair and poorly combined outfit choices. She slicks your blunt strands back and smiles teasingly. "...sleazy."

"Fuck y—"

"Shhh." She places a finger on your lips. The side of her thigh touches your lap. You're so close that any word you utter won't pass without hitting her. "It's okay. I like it."

You purse your lips. You didn't expect that. She's taken seats on your lap that were uninitiated by you and let you lift her in the air when you hug her. All that and her fingers in your hair are the most surprising.

"You're drunk," you say, although she’s only had a few shots.

Hyeju inches closer to you and holds your chin in place. "I'm sober as the next wolf, sweetie," she tells you. Her next words fail to show her hesitance. "And… and it just so happens that I really, really want to kiss you."

She's joking. She's playing around with your heart. You're not a virgin—you know what girls do. Hyeju doesn't strike you as the type to do that in spite of what’s going on, but you have to be careful. Your heart’s been bruised too many times already.

Careful isn't the word for it when you take the first step and lean in for a kiss. Maybe you're drunk yourself. Dizziness enchants your mind as Hyeju's dreamy lips perfectly pout to the shape of your mouth. Her eyes are closed. It's like she's in a restful dream.

You can’t believe you’re doing it. You’re kissing her. Passionately, too—there’s real determination in the way you hungrily lean forward to devour her lips.

The bar oohs and ahhs, then erupts into a crowd of applause. A few whistles come your way. You can feel Hyeju smile into your mouth.

Proclivities upon proclivities to keep her around you and only you couldn’t stop Monday from coming. You’ve only been to a noraebang once and that was with your family. It excites you to go to one again. However, you’d rather have only Hyeju to come, to be the exclusive member of the club that gets to hear her soft, pretty voice echo in the mic.

She’s really doing a number on you. Daniel’s your friend—sure, he might be out of touch with the local games and experiences, yet he’s still important to you. You can’t be mad at him over a girl who probably doesn’t even think the kiss at the bar was anything special. She hasn’t even talked about it with you and acts like it didn’t happen. Just another boy, just another day. That’s probably how you are to her.

Ouch. Way to go hurting yourself with your own made-up scenarios. As expected from you.

The three of you decide to cut classes. It’s not like you’re in high school anymore. Professors just don’t give a fuck, unless it’s miss Wong. She’s pretty and quiet at first. Then you have to wait to see her get angry—that’s when all hell breaks loose.

No hell on the loose today. Just three little demons from hell called Hyeju, Daniel and yourself down on the loose and down the road to the noraebang. Hyeju’s in a loose black jacket and a plain white tee. You somehow notice that more than Daniel who’s sporting a graphic shirt with swear words from every language printed on it. You don’t have much to say about your attire when it’s nothing special, not even compared to Hyeju, who’s wearing simple clothes like you.

“If a teacher sees us out here—” says Daniel nervously. He’s never rebelled before. The most he’s done is missing a class.

“No one will,” Hyeju promises him, opening the door of the place for the two of you though in your opinion it should be the other way around: you opening the door for her. What better way to show Hyeju that you could be a gentleman? Too late now. Plus, she doesn’t care much for that. That’s what keeps your excitement on a low burn. It takes more than opening a door and waiting around to impress Hyeju.

You sign your names at the front. Daniel picks a nice, wide room with a glass table perfect for chips and bottles. The bright screen already shows snippets of K-pop music videos, involving sweet-faced Korean girls waving at the camera and running along a beach. As boyish Hyeju is compared to other girls, you could definitely see her doing that for her passion of becoming an idol.

“What should we sing?” asks Hyeju, sitting down on the black plush seats comfortably. Her gummy smile is precious.

“Anything you want.” He slings an arm around her. His looped arm tugs her into a warm embrace. “Anything for the soon-to-be lawyer slash K-pop idol.”

Stiffen. Turn away and suddenly take good interest in the walls with a carved 3D effect. Much more interesting than whatever Daniel’s trying to pull on your best friend. Right, Hyeju’s your best friend. Nothing more. That kiss was a drunken mistake. You shouldn’t be getting angry. Besides, this noraebang was rented for you to have fun, not glower at Daniel doing nothing but be a good friend.

Hyeju laughs and leans into him gladly. “Stop, you’re gonna make me throw up!”

You feel out of place all of a sudden. Has she always been that affectionate with him? You thought that those touches and hugs were reserved for you only. Apparently not.

“Sing a song, Hye.” Your eyes don’t meet her gaze.

“They wanted me to debut with this song,” she says. The mic is shaky in her hand. “I—” She blushes. “I want to sing it for you.”

Sweetness infiltrates the air. It’s not of a scent or touch, but of hearing. It's Hyeju’s voice. It's smooth and soft as it passes through the empty atmosphere. No instrumental accompanies her voice, and you’re glad it’s that way. It allows you to marvel at Hyeju’s tone, quiet in spite of its sexiness.

And it takes that and several songs later, sung daringly by all of your trio, and jokes passed among friends that make you think about it. Really think about it. While Daniel and she sing their hearts out to the point of their voices cracking and laughs transforming into guffaws, you sit there and submerge yourself in thought.

You’ve seen Hyeju smile. It's pretty and sweet; her triangle-shaped mouth curls up into a half moon and it's everything you've ever wished for in life. No, fuck food. Fuck oxygen. All you need is her smile. It's cheesy as hell when you page through those types of quotes in those teenage romance books you probably shouldn't even be holding, but you swear that if Hyeju smiles for the rest of her life, it's enough for you to live. She just looks so pretty. Her resting bitch face, stone cold as the title of the expression suggests, is hot (yes, you're using that word), but when she chooses to smile—oh, you're as good as dead.

You don't like Son Hyeju though.

You’ve heard her sing in the noraebang room with her soft voice filling the vicinity. She doesn't sing much although she could. The day would come when she’d say "you know, I almost became an idol. I trained then dipped halfway,” and the pitched raspiness of her voice still would send you to heaven. It's a natural and beautiful thing, a trait she couldn't learn from the best vocal coach.

You don't like Son Hyeju though.

You’ve felt her hair when she leaned into your lap after laughing too much. "Stop, or I swear to god I will fuck your shit up," she told you, slapping your thigh after your terrible dad joke. You ran your fingers through her hair to calm her, but if anything it's an excuse to just touch her. You want to touch Hyeju, and not even in a sexual way. You just want your bodies closed up on each other with no awkwardness barriering the freedom to hold and be held.

And it’s not the kiss, but all these that make you stop your denial, and discover that you—

“—think I like Hye,” you whisper to Daniel when said girl leaves to get some beer. The flashing disco lights hanging from the ceiling can’t camouflage the red on your face.

Daniel laughs and puts down the mic. The bump on the crafted table sends a tinged pitch of feedback to your ears. “Everyone likes her. So?”

He’s right. Everyone likes Hyeju. Yeah, they like her through every name she’s taken up. She was the star of the school back in middle school when she went as Hyejoo, then the ice princess of high school as Olivia Hye, and finally… as herself now that she’s grown up with you, Son Hyeju. She’s become so many versions of herself and yet people still like the real her. You still know the real her.

“No,” is what you say, as you twiddle your fingers. You don’t know how to say this without causing an uproar. “I like Hyeju.”

He considers this for a moment, weighing in your words. “Like as in… like like?”

A nervous swallow. Is Daniel the right person to tell this ? “Like like,” you reply nevertheless.

Daniel locks his chin between his rough fingers and strokes it thoughtfully. His face is clouded with a feeling you can’t read. “Well, a lot of people do, too. And they wouldn’t blame you for it. She’s—” He looks down at his shoes then back at the noraebang screen. “She’s a pretty girl.”

The understatement of the century. Hyeju’s face was carved with such beauty—curved, pyramid lips; slanted eyes; a cold look that you, unlike people when asked about their first impression of her, weren’t scared of—and she’s just so… easy to love.

Yes, Son Hyeju is easy to love. Everyone loves her, but she can only ever reciprocate it in a different way to one man. Woman, perhaps? Anything goes, but you'd rather she gives it to you.

You're a selfish person, you admit that. More so when it comes to her.

"Let's get this party started!" she says. You don't intend to flinch yet you end up doing it anyway when she sits down next to you and hands you canned alcohol.

"There's only three of us, Hye," Daniel points out. The rounded metal springs up from the can and he gulps down a hefty amount of the spiked liquid.

"Three's a crowd. Especially when it's with you guys."

"So you're saying we're too much?" Match her sass with hidden bits of your own. You're only trying to make it seem like your heart doesn't beg to be held close to hers.

"Too much is just enough for me."

Hyeju drops both of her arms around you and your other friend and ruffles your hair. It's sweet. It should be. It’s exactly that which makes you fail to understand why your heart feels squeezed. Why is she also hugging Daniel in the same manner she hugs you?

The kiss at the bar means nothing. The kiss at the bar means nothing. You have to stop thinking that it means there's a ring on your finger already.

You rise from the sofa to purchase chips because you’re starving, but not for healthy food. You wouldn’t dream of eating a salad when there’s junk food in your general vicinity, and it just so happens that there’s a vending machine you’ve got your eye on at the counter. Soon, a rainbow of plastic bags fills your arms. What they contain would work well to repay your debt with Hyeju. Daniel can eat these without worrying about money. He’s been a good friend. He deserves chips after the evil you’ve thought about him.

"I bought chips—"

Daniel is pushing Hyeju to the end of the sofa and has his lips locked on hers. His hands are in her hair. Her eyes are shut. You can hear the sloppy sounds of kissing bouncing off the noraebang walls. The instrumental from the radio is the cherry on top of everything.

Does this kiss guarantee a ring?

"Wow," you say. Nod then laugh, as if doing it would make your situation better. “Wow.”

Hyeju turns her head and scrambles for broken dignity. It's too late. You've already seen it. Daniel doesn't even bother running after you when she bursts out of the room to chase you. You're immovable—each step is a promise to take you far away. You trust that promise to skewer you away from Son Hyeju, Son fucking Hyeju who led you on and played with your heart.

"Hey.” Her steps catch up with yours. Walk faster, but she only draws closer. You can’t escape from her now. “Hey!”

"What?" Turn to her, heavy breathing lining your shoulders. You stare into her small face and silently dare her to make an excuse.

To your surprise and her audacity, she does. "It's not what it looks like!" she says, swallowing. How could she be the one near tears when she's the one who kissed him? "Let me explain—"

"I know what I saw."

"Well, you don't see the bigger picture. He sm—"

"—smart? Funny? Rich?" Laugh and shake your head. Your laughs sound more and more genuine. You've gone a little sick in the head. "Yeah, I know. But hey, we're not supposed to be anything, right? Why am I mad? It's not like our kiss meant anything."

"Please, oppa. Listen to me."

"No, go sing together,” you say, then thrust the junk food you bought in her arms. “I’m sure you’re better off with him.”

Mean it. Turn away. Don't bother to look at her when you know she'll go crawling back to Daniel. He's totally her type. He's everything, you're nothing. He's smart, you're not. He loves her more, and you do—just not enough. Now you understand why they were so touchy and close in the room.

Anger is irrational when it was just a kiss. The two of you weren't official, either. If you weren't before, you sure as hell aren't now. It's just not meant to be.

She likes Daniel, not you. And even though you want to be, you aren't supposed to be angry at Hyeju. She was swept into a high school love triangle that happened a little later in her life, and ultimately chose the better guy. No need to drop names. The kiss was enough for you to know which man she chose.

Besides, you don't love Son Hyeju anyway. Isn't that what you've always told yourself? That's right. You don't love her.

Denial is a river flowing down your cheek.

The dorm becomes a cemetery of the living dead. You and Hyeju have not spoken to each other for three months. She stops waking you up for class, and you do the same. The place is notably cleaner after the two of you rely only on yourself to tidy up. Lost are the sarcasm, friendly touches, teasing arguments. It’s like the two of you never knew each other.

It’s through this that you discover that you have to be careful what you wish for. You always thought about Daniel putting himself in your place, and it happened. Ever since the kiss, Hyeju’s been chattier with him, and he pulls her close the way you used to, and she smiles at him like she used to at you, except that it’s wider now. They’re together. Officially together; you’ve seen their Instagram posts.

Moreover, she’s happier than ever, flourishing without you.

And you? You’re still stuck in that noraebang, replaying that fateful kiss over and over in your head. Each time you close your eyes you see Hyeju and Daniel in a passionate liplock. It’s the kiss that ruined what you had with Hyeju and has made your quality of life deteriorate. You didn’t know that Hyeju makes up almost every part of your day. Mornings are empty without your stroll with her. Post-exam nights aren’t as fun when she’s not there to bring drinks. Afternoons are lonely when she’s always out with Daniel.

You hate the fucker. He knew you liked Hyeju. You’ve told him about it right before the thing he did with her even happened, so it’s impossible that he’d forget. Besides, like he said, the two of you are always together. He surely would have picked up the signs. Unfortunately, he whisked her away just like that.

You dislike to feel like the scheming guy in coming-of-age films who doesn’t get the girl, but it’s the perfect portrayal of your emotions.

Wake up for class. She does, too. You have the decency to not gawk at how good she looks even in a casual tank top and plaid shorts, but she doesn’t even try to hide that she’s staring at you. Just not for the same reason, you assume. You’re just her boy best friend. With the way things are, you aren’t even a friend to her anymore.

You smear cheese onto a soft slice of bread. Still, her eyes are on you. From the corner of what takes up your vision, you could tell that she’s trying to figure out how to make this less awkward. You’d think that an eternity’s worth of effectively giving each other the cold shoulder would make her learn how to do it. She’s a smart girl anyway. She should have figured that out.

“You know… you can’t just keep ignoring me.”

Freeze—it’s the first time she’s spoken to you in a while. And you weren’t prepared for that. It’s like someone threw a punch in your stomach, but it’s also a breath of fresh air. How those two feelings could converge into each other you don’t know.

“So stop it, will you?” she continues. She swings her legs out of the duvet and places her hands snug on the edge of her bed. “Stop treating me like I’m a…”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m your fucking ex,” Hyeju snarls. The duvet crumples in her fist.

Scoff. Fold the bread slice tight onto the other squared end. Talk about a good morning. “Ex? We were never a thing, Hye… ju.”

Right, it isn’t like that anymore. You can’t call her Hye like the old times.

The hurt that registers on her face, still pretty in the midst of pain, comes by so fast it would take a magnifying glass to see it clearly. Now she’s the one scoffing. She recovers quickly from the stifled nickname so well that you never would have guessed you disarmed her. “That’s the thing. You’re right—we weren’t boyfriend-girlfriend. So why are you acting like I’m a ghost?”

“I wonder why,” you say. “Couldn’t be because you kissed me then decided to kiss another guy while I was away. Nope, totally out of the question.”

What happened? It seems like just yesterday the two of you were throwing insults and playfully quarreling with each other like it’s natural. This is a real disagreement here. This can’t be resolved with a smile or hug. You and Hyeju aren’t like that anymore. It’s a thing of the past.

Just like your friendship.

“If you’d just let me explain—”

“You know what? I don’t have time for this. Go with Daniel to class. Have a good life with him. Just call me if you get lost.”

Don’t even try to take a bite out of your cheese sandwich. You leave it on the table. Later, it’ll become stale and cold, similar to your friendship with Hyeju, or whatever kind of fucked up relationship you have.

You storm out of the dorm. You’re glad to get out—you’re already worried about the test later and the night class with miss Wong. Don’t need a situationship to take up your mind either.

The day passes like a car on a rocky, jagged road. It’s difficult to muster a smile to the freshmen the moment you come in to help miss Jeong teach, or work on your test when that argument with her fills your mind rather than equations you should have memorized. The whole day is torture, and you don’t dare wish it on anyone. Not even that asshole Daniel

“What’s up with you today?” people ask you. “You sure you’re alright?” “Where’s Hyeju?”

You don’t answer.

When the night comes, it’s relief for your sore mind and body. That test beat you up and the sun was too cruel to your skin. Even if night classes could last till the brink of dawn, you don’t mind. Take comfort in the fact that it’s only a discussion and nothing more.

Barely listen though. Two a.m. creeps by and you haven’t taken in a thing. Usually miss Wong would have you focused, keeping in mind that she’s strict and merciless, but you’re too tired today. Your bones ache though you didn’t do much walking. They’re only symptoms of heartbreak.

You don’t want to see a doctor. In fact, you want to get worse.

Miss Wong looks up at the clock. “Is it alright if I extend for just five minutes?” she asks. Her pencil skirt struggles to contain her strides on the platform.

A chorus of mixed responses echo in the classroom. Others, the top students in particular who participate in every club you could name, say it’s fine. Some already have excuses to make: they need to work on homework; they have other classes to go to; every excuse existing. You don’t know which side you’re on—you don’t want to come home to another angry night with Hyeju, and at the same time, you can’t be assed to stay.

Then—

Ringing. It’s all you hear. Your classmates’ voices drown out in it. It’s supposed to be soft, but it isn’t anymore when everyone shuts their mouth in alarm. Look here, look there. You don’t know where it’s coming from.

Your hint is the light in your pocket. Fish it out. It’s coming from your phone.

“I thought I told you guys to put your cellphones on mute during class,” Wong says, sighing. Her glare shoots you a warning.

Okay, you’d say sorry to her and put your phone away. Drop the call. Anything. But the first thing you do is wonder:

Why the fuck is Son Hyeju calling you?

Aside from all the tension between you, your natural instinct is to answer. Your next is to ask her, “Hye?”

“Oppa…” comes her voice from your speaker.

Before you could wonder why she’s calling, you notice that Hyeju’s voice is… lonely. Yes, lonely. That’s the word you’d use right away if you’re asked to describe it. No, it can’t be just that. It’s mixed with something else. It’s higher, a little more groggy.

Forget that you were fighting. Forget that she kissed Daniel and broke your heart. She wouldn’t call if it isn’t something even her pride can’t protect. “Hyeju? What’s wrong?”

“I’m lost.”

Those are the two words she utters before breaking into sobs. You’ve never heard or seen Hyeju cry. She likes to treat problems with anger rather than sadness, slicing away at every conflict with groans and cursing professors for low grades. If she’s crying, it must mean something’s wrong. Something’s very, very wrong.

You’re keenly aware that all eyes and ears are monitoring your moves, but you don’t care. You rise from your seat and start gathering your laptop into your bag. You forget about your notes. Fuck them. Hyeju comes first.

“Where did you go, Hye?” Walk out of the class. If miss Wong has a problem with that, she can tell you about it tomorrow.

Sniffles on her end. Her quiet, low cries break your heart. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I need you, oppa. I have… I have nobody else. Please come and get me.”

“Hyeju—”

“Please,” she whispers. Her voice lowers to a whine. “I’m alone. I’m so alone.”

Tears itch at the bottoms of your eyes. You have to come and get her. Need to forget the fight and silent treatment that ensued. All that means nothing if Hyeju’s in need of your help.

Where the fuck are your keys? Remove them from the loop of your jeans and click the button. In the driveway, your car’s headlights shine. Yep, there it is. You once regretted buying a secondhand car like that. Now that it can get you to Hyeju, you vow to take care of it for life. You’d spend thousands to repair it if it breaks down.

But right now, it’s Hyeju who’s breaking down. She’s all alone somewhere and she needs you. In a way, you need her, too. She’s the one who’s braver to admit it.

You’ve never driven faster in your entire life. All the while you stay on the line with Hyeju. Your grip on the wheel tightens whenever she lets out a hopeless little sob. She’s crying so hard that you want to roll into a ball in the corner and cry, too. You can’t do that. You have to be the stronger one, the one who comes to her like she’s done for you and tells her that everything’s going to be alright.

You make no promises.

Eventually you coax a location out of her and break several speed limits. Ignore the cops that yell at you. They can all go and fuck off. Hyeju needs you. You’re her best friend. It’s what friends do.

“Motherfucker,” you curse, upon seeing that the location she led you to was a club. It’s hidden in the corner of a creepy alley. “Hyeju, are you drunk?”

“Nooooo…” she drawls, giggling through her tears. “Your voice is so nice, oppa. It really makes me feel better. Did’ya know that?”

No time to be flattered. You burst into the club and find her in the midst of flashing lights and crowds of bodies. Your ears ring because of the music. Whose idea was it to hire this DJ? He thinks he’s doing such a good job, too.

Hyeju’s in the center of it all. Her black coat is too big for her, but so is the crowd. When it moves, it drags her along by the toes. She’s… smiling? Wasn’t she crying on the phone just minutes earlier? Maybe she drank more. This can’t be good.

“Hyeju!” Start walking faster.

She sticks her tongue out at you and starts to sprint upon seeing you get close.

You have no time for games. This isn’t even in the least bit funny. What if someone spiked her drink? What if that was the reason she’s acting funny? Worse: what if someone’s planning to take advantage of her? All these concerns bump into each other in your head as you run after her.

A couple of “excuse me”s and “sorry!”s after you quickly squeeze in between dancing people. Drinks spilled on the floor. Anger from two dolled up ladies. (A look to your right and… yep, not only from them.) Disapproval from the DJ who even calls you out. Boos from the crowd. You don’t care about them. You only care about getting Hyeju to safety. She can’t be here in her vulnerable state.

Before she could dash out from your line of vision, you grab her wrist. Seal your grip around it tightly so she can’t escape. “Son Hyeju,” you say, glaring at her. Ever since she stopped crying, she started to play around. This isn’t a game but to her it is. A fun game, to be more precise. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Oooh, you caught…” She burps. Playful giggles spill from her mouth. “... me!” Hyeju gives you a drunken smile and claps for you regardless of her right hand being held into position.

“Why are you here?”

“Why are you here? See? I can ask stupid q-questions, too!”

You whisk her away from the ongoing party and into the cold night air. You’re about to throw your jacket on her when you see that she’s wearing one, too.

People are starting to stare. Pray that no one intervenes, even if they have good intentions. After all, you’re a man with a woman under the influence. They have every right to be concerned, but you hope that just for now they know you wouldn’t dare hurt Hyeju.

The wind blows a breeze that almost knocks you to the floor. You draw Hyeju to yourself to warm her. You can’t risk her catching a cold.

”Let me go, oppa!” Hyeju’s mood goes from sad to drunkenly cheerful to pained. She forces her wrist out from your fist harshly. Your arms no longer wrap her. “You don’t like me anymore, right? And I have a boyfriend!”

Capture her hand again. She can’t escape and run away a second time. You’ve done that too much to know that it’ll send her down into a dizzying spiral. You’re cowards, the both of you—that’s why you flee whenever a problem arises. You don’t know how to deal with it.

That changes now. Get in your vehicle. Pull her in, too. “For your information,” you say, locking her seatbelt in place, “you called me. You asked me to pick you up.”

The car roars to life and speeds down the road. The night barely provides light for you to move along. It’s beautiful nevertheless. Stars peek out from the depths of black. The moon is dim yet reassuring. What fate does it have in store for you? Would you accept it if you knew? How could they all look so serene while you have your drunk crush next to you starting an argument?

“And you’d loooove not to do it, wouldn’t you?” Hyeju’s words suggest that she’s no longer that drunk but the way her words come out like jumbled words in a newspaper crossword tell you otherwise. She leans against the door and crosses her arms. “It was a mistake to call you. You, you fucking hate me.”

Does she really believe that? You may hate Daniel, but you never once hated Hyeju. You’ve only had wistful feelings for her even after she kissed him. You still checked up on her socials and watched her as she ate lunch with him. You remained loyal to her, like a dog following its owner through scoldings.

Yeah, you really are just her dog.

“I don’t hate you, Hye,” you say with conviction. You’re determined to make her believe that. It’s difficult when you’ve never been the type to be good with words.

“Yes, you do! You wouldn’t even let me explain why I kissed Daniel!”

“For fuck’s sake, I was hurt! I didn’t know what to do!”

“Then hear me out for once!”

“Alright.” Your hands slap the wheel, unintentionally bumping the horn and causing Hyeju to cringe. “Go on. Tell me what happened.”

“He was the one who kissed me, the fucking idiot! He kissed me out of the blue and wouldn’t stop!”

Wait.

What?

Daniel, your friend and Hyeju’s, initiated the kiss? Hyeju didn’t want it to happen?

If only you knew, you would have beaten up Daniel a long time ago.

You can’t even speak. You had it all wrong. You can’t believe there was an explanation for everything and you refused to hear it.

Hyeju begins to sob again. Her words circle in the air like an incantation. It’s equally because of the alcohol and her emotions. “I was… talking to him about my training, but then he kissed me.” She wipes her face and laughs humorlessly. “He started making out with me and, a-and I didn’t know how to stop it. It was like I was frozen.”

“You… you didn’t kiss him?” Your tone is broken and incredulous. “He made you do it?”

She looks almost offended. “Why? Why would I ever kiss that bastard?”

“But you’re dating him.”

“I am,” says Hyeju, hands in her hair, “Hah, okay. I'm dating him, yeah, but that’s just because I thought you didn’t like me. I only want one person in the world, and it isn’t Daniel Smith.”

“Hyeju—”

“It’s you, you clueless little shit!” She punches your shoulder and muffles her face into your car pillow. Her next scream is elongated, filled with frustration. When she lifts her face from the pillow, her eyeliner and blush are smeared and wet with teardrops. “It’s you, and I only want you!”

In vino veritas.

The confession is as out of the blue as Daniel’s kiss was. You’re in a state of shock and disbelief—too much information is coming into your brain. You want to punch Daniel in the face for shocking her with an unwanted move. You want to hug Hyeju. You want to tell her that you’re sorry for not hearing her side of the story.

Most importantly, you want to tell her that you want her, too.

It’s too late now. She’s seen you disregard her voice and choose to have a one-track mind. There’s no way she wants you anymore.

“Why the fuck would you ever want me, Hyeju?”

“Because!” She lets out a shivering little sigh. “You don’t treat me like… hlk, like I’m a trophy to show off. You’re my friend. You know how to be mean but you take care of me even if I’m too moody sometimes. Even if I don’t want to come along with you outside because I’m scared I’ll make myself look stupid in front of you. Even if… even if I love too hard but don’t show that I love you most and that sometimes you take care of me more than my dad does and I know it’s wrong to see you that way when I’m with him now but I really want you to take care of me but still kiss me too if I need it and be okay with me calling you names like ‘daddy’ and still being your best friend besides being my boyfriend… but I know it can’t happen anymore and I ruined everything—”

“Hyeju.”

More tears flow down her face. “—and I know you won’t ever love me the same again but I’ll regret forever, long after we graduate, that I never showed that I loved you, that I was a coward—”

“Hyeju,” you say, gently. Pull over at the university parking lot. You have your finger on her mouth, sealing them to stop her droning. She pauses. She doesn’t do it without breaking down. “Please. Don’t tell me you don’t know it. It’s been happening under your nose every single day.”

“What?” she murmurs, eyes glassy as they connect with yours.

“I like you, too.”

Silence. Several beats go by. They’re too lengthy to be fake. The next nuance confirms that:

Talk about relief. Talk about passion. As if she’s forgetting that a sudden kiss was what opened Pandora’s box, Hyeju grabs your face and does exactly that. Again, it has too many things to it that blocks it from being faux. The unique shape of her lips mold onto yours, as if your lips were made to kiss each other all the time. It’s back to the café again, wherein she does something and you subconsciously follow along. Your hands are on her phenomenal waist. And soon you’re unbuckling her seatbelt so she could sit safely on your lap, where she’s supposed to be. Where she belongs.

She drops her touch to your shoulders. She massages them, and you groan delightfully. Now it’s your turn to hold her face and lean in closer. Hyeju’s mouth tastes of sweetness and alcohol. You don’t know how those two tastes could mix together. Hyeju makes it work.

“Oppa, daddy,” she whimpers. She pulls away. The distance is still close to nothing. “Daddy, I love you.”

It’s a sudden nickname, still detached from when she uses it with you jokingly, yet there’s no hesitance here. You know your truth. “I love you, too, Hyeju.”

“Will you take me to bed?” She starts grinding down on your shaft needily. “Please say you will, daddy. Please say you’ll make me happy.”

“You’re drunk. I… I don’t know if I should.”

“‘m not. Maybe. But I’ve wanted it to happen for a long time,” Hyeju says. “I won’t mind, I promise.”

She couldn’t get any more sober with that. So you do what any man would do if they were called daddy by Son Hyeju: lift her out of your car, not caring to check twice if it’s locked, and bring her to bed. Take her coat off—she won’t need it if you’ll make her warm from the inside and out.

Her arms round your neck and her face is buried in your chest. Her words come out in a desperate, needy tone that you haven’t heard from her since the day you met. Who exactly were you to make her this small?

Her daddy, of course.

See, as tough as Hyeju makes herself out to be, she’s still needy. She still has her own problems that haven’t let go of her now that she’s older, like the daddy thing. You only fully understand it now when you lay her on the bed and continue kissing her. Hard. Her moans call out for you. They aren’t merely things to whine if it feels good. It’s not even a matter of want anymore; her shivers and cries indicate of her carnal need for you to do what you will with her.

“Don’t be scared,” she tells you, closing her eyes as you kiss her perfect jawline. “You wanted me for so long, right? Well, I did, too. Do what you want to me. Fuck me, daddy.”

“You talk extremely dirty for someone who’s drunk,” you chuckle.

“Not so drunk anymore. You make me sober.”

“Sweet talker. You’re all bark and no bite.”

Hyeju has no retort to make. Your lips on her gorgeous nipple render her speechless. The cute pink nub is hard, and grows harder at your loving suckles. Her breasts are the perfect size for squeezing. Relish in that fact by squeezing her left breast while dedicating more of your attention to the other, making her become sensitive with each action.

You’d say you have bite, for you do so lightly on her breast. She gasps. “Daddy!” she cries out.

“Fuck, don’t say it like that.” Your cock throbs already. It’s the same feeling you get all those times before, the times you’d get into an argument with Hyeju and she’d call you that.

“What? It’s not my fault you can’t handle me,” she says wittily.

“Don’t try me.”

“What?” She cocks a brow. “Hit too close to home?”

You have to shut her bratty self up. Tug her pants off, sliding them off her silky legs. Her pink panties are a hint to the gentle color of her pussy. Find out about them anyway—push the underwear aside and shove three fingers in her.

“Oh shit.” Hyeju’s squeeze on your digits is instant, like an impulsive reaction.

Think about if Daniel has done this to her before and pick up the pace. You’re fingering her like the walls of her soaked pussy would banish him and let you have her all to yourself. “Son Hyeju,” you growl, “shut the fuck up.”

“W-won’t—ah!”

If you don’t make her quiet, you’ll at least reduce her words to pathetic moans. You’d say you’re successful. Your rapid thrusts send Hyeju’s screams paralleling the night wind with their strength.

You’re surprised again and again at how loud she could get. She’s always so quiet except for the occasional sarcastic remark. She can make no more of those if faced with the relentless fingering you do unto her pussy. They draw out strings of dampness when they withdraw, and fill her right to the knuckles when you go back in. Her hips squirm and you have to place a hand on her thigh to continue.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy!” she screams. Her mouth is open while she sits up to look at what you’re doing to her vulnerable cunt. “It feels so fucking good, don’t stop!”

She looks beautiful. Her shirt is lifted above her breasts, making them bounce madly due to the timing and force of your thrusts. Her eyes could never be more watchful. She can’t believe she actually has you between her legs and fingering her to orgasm.

“Got any comeback for me, Hye?” you ask smugly.

Hyeju nods. Her lips are parted again. Although you haven’t had sex with her except for now, you know what that dropped jaw means: she’s close.

Her walls are impossible to part completely. She’s too damn tight that you bet she’d still be so with one finger. The grip of her slippery, wet cunt is like no other. You reach deep into it and stroke out till you find the place. That’s how Hyeju starts to shiver. She can’t manage it.

“Oh, yeah? What do you have to say now, sweet?” Wrap your lips around her nipple. It’s another one of your unfair advantages over her.

“I-I-I—I can’t!”

The recoil of Hyeju’s tits is amazing. Harshly squeeze the boob you’ve relatively neglected to make sure she can’t get a word out of those pretty lips. Take a further step and smack it, too. She moans in satisfaction. Your harsh squeezes imprint a replica of your hand on her pale skin.

Of course, you don’t forget to keep your fingers going. You change techniques now and then, switching from gentle circling to rapid fire shoving. Whether it’s one or the other, Hyeju’s fuckhole swallows you up. She doesn’t mind which or what; she needs your harshness the most. It’s what counts as a whole.

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum! Please make me cum on your fingers, make your babygirl cum… oh—oh, fuck!”

Combined with your thumb nudging her small clit and your digits absolutely destroying her tightness, Hyeju does the unthinkable: she squirts on your hand and on your bed. Liquid gushes on your shirt; it’s so consistent and clear that a new determination is founded within you. It’s to make your unbearably hot best friend cum like she never has.

For the record, it’s the first time you’ve made a girl squirt. You didn’t expect that it would be this satisfying. Seeing Hyeju’s blissful face and the shake of her beautiful legs make your efforts worth it. Watching yourself do it to your best friend and make her feisty, boyish self let out screams and pleas brings increased triumph.

“No, oh god, it’s too much!” Hyeju says this but her legs part more. Her head is tossed back and her moans don’t stop. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I can’t—daddy!”

“Messy little brat.” Rub away at her clit. Feel the spurt of her cum hit your finger. “That’s it, cum for daddy. Keep those pretty thighs open.”

Hyeju mewls at the mixture of degradation and moans. If Daniel had said that to her, she probably would have thrown up in a bucket. When it’s you, on the other hand, everything changes. She wants you to call her every harsh name out there and accompany it with sides of praise. She’ll only feel this good when she’s with you.

Hyeju is anything but obedient. Things change here in the dorm, where her pussy is spread and prone to your touch. Her midriff, soft yet slender, rises over and over. The hose of her wet orgasms still hasn’t stopped.

“Goddammit, you’re squirting so much. Am I that good, hm, Hyeju? Is daddy that good to his pretty little girl?”

“Mmm, mmm, don't— no more, daddy, no more!” Hyeju’s core is already spent, and you haven’t even put your cock in her yet.

Stop. Not before you leave a kiss to the sensitive bundle of nerves that you abused. It’s a mark now, something invisible that subtly says to everyone that you got to fuck her. You got to fuck Son Hyeju. You made her cum like never before.

Spit on Hyeju’s center then spread it to her lips and nub. She moans. “You’re so wet, Hye.”

“Whatever.” She’s blushing. “I’ve had better.”

You have to say you’re a little provoked. You know it’s false seeing the smug look on her face and after making her squirt, but who exactly has done her better? Daniel? Definitely not him. The possibility still does well to spur you to jealousy.

“Oh,” you say, smiling tightly, “so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

Hyeju gasps happily when she’s pushed to the wall and on her knees. It’s reminiscent of how Daniel did exactly that: pinning her to the wall before kissing her. Your anger brews into a fire just thinking about him.

“Yeah. What’re you gonna do about it?”

Unbuckle your belt. Your jeans join it on the floor as well as your briefs. “I’m gonna clean that dirty mouth of yours.”

“And how are you gonna do that, daddy?” Hyeju pretends not to know what’s coming.

It’s your belief that actions speak louder than words. That’s why when you place your cock in between Hyeju’s lips, it resonates inside her more than your promise to purify her mouth. Logic fails here when dirty sins can’t remove Hyeju’s dirty words. One wrong and another doesn’t make a right. Oh, who cares? This isn’t a class. This isn’t your thesis. You focus only on feeling the softness of her triangular mouth, the wetness of the back of her throat.

Holding your cock by the base, you lead its tip into rubbing every corner of Hyeju’s mouth. Her cheeks make an outline of your girth as you press your head against them. Her jaw becomes slack after you press your dick down to her tongue. You’re technically doing all the work here because you’re fucking her face, but you’d argue that Hyeju contributes just as much with her tearful eyes that are more puppy than wolf.

The shape of her wet orifice leaves ample space for you to rub against everything. Your tip draws a triangle on her lips right before slipping inside. There you keep your word and clean her dirty mouth. Push those naughty words down her throat with immediate thrusts. That way, she can only moan, nothing else. No sass can be heard from her now.

“You’re such a bad girl, Hyeju,” you say. Curl your hand ‘round her messy hair and direct it downwards. She groans, her mouth now upright for yout fuck easier into. “You shouldn’t like having your mouth used like this. You shouldn’t be on your knees for your best friend when your boyfriend’s waiting for you at home.”

Hyeju knows you’re right. She shouldn’t. She isn’t supposed to enjoy having her throat rammed and spread. She shouldn’t be cheating on the man she claims to love. It’s a mistake of hers to be here anyway, underneath another man.

Her second mistake is to like everything the way it is..

Her third is to tongue your shaft like she would a sweet treat. She wants to taste all of you, from your thick tip to the base. She’s not had much to work on with Daniel, but she knew it would be a good time when you sprung out your cock. She makes this worth it—she seals her lips at your base, her nose pressed firmly at the bottom of your tummy, then produces such a harsh suction that the grip you have in her black locks of messy hair tightens. A curse is what you let out besides precum.

“Fuck,” you say. Pull her head closer. Aggressive thrusts fire away. “Didn’t know your pouty little lips could suck dick so well. I bet it’s bulging your throat. Is daddy right about that?”

She tries to nod. Her gags stop her intended action; your thrusts have sped up and are now destroying her tight throat. No space is left for her to breathe when her mouth is stuffed with your length. Even her nostrils can’t take in much air if her nose is pressed that tightly to your stomach.

Place a hand on the wall in order for there to be no aches for her head when you thrust wildly. “You know, I changed my mind. Maybe you’re a good girl, especially with that face. Go on, touch yourself. I know you want to.”

Permission is granted by her daddy. Hyeju gives a cry in response then leads her hand between her legs. Letting you fuck her face has made her wet beyond imagination. She doesn’t need to press directly on her pussy when there’s slick all over her thighs. She gathers them all up and places them back in her pussy. She moans as she swirls her digits inside her. Here’s how it works: she has one hand masturbating, and the other on your thigh to caress it and at the same time keep her balance.

Take note of that. “You’re a smart girl, Hyeju. Smart girls shouldn’t be letting their faces get fucked. We can’t have that happen, right?”

You say that yet your actions tell a different story. Your violent pumps into Hyeju’s mouth to use it to the limits are endless. Hyeju’s moaning. She enjoys it more than she should. Of course, you jam those moans, as pretty as they are, down her throat.

Slap your cock on her lips.

“You know what I mean.”

Slip the whole of your length out then in again. Make her brush those luscious lips against every inch.

“We really, really can’t have that happen.”

Caress her cheek. Her eyes are awaiting and obedient. Look down into them and almost feel bad for ruining her, your best friend.

“Daniel might walk in anytime. He’ll be looking for you.”

Your movements are cruel as time goes by. You shouldn’t be treating your best friend like this. You shouldn’t even be having sex with her. All of these ought to stop you in your tracks—you don’t.

“And what will he say when he sees his precious girlfriend on her knees for his best friend?”

Hyeju begins to whine. She doesn’t want him to walk in; she’s enjoying this too much. What she doesn’t want to happen even more is for you not to blow your load inside her warm throat. People can’t have what they want all the time, but she swears she won’t want anything else if you just give her what she wants. That’s for you to absolutely use her. Be cruel to her and it wouldn’t sting.

“He’ll start to think how better you are with me. You’re a bad girl, Hyeju. You know that and you still want me.”

You’re right in every way. She is better with you. You just fuck her better, treat her better, kiss her better. She can’t kiss better the wound she’ll leave in Daniel if he just so happens to walk in. Maybe she could, but she’d put salt on it when he discovers how good you make her feel. It isn’t fair to anybody. To you, the one she accidentally hurt; to Daniel, who was the one (no, make that the two with how he was her last resort and how she gave him false hope); to her, who can’t go without you.

“Let go.”

Nine.

It takes exactly nine strokes in between her folds for her to cum. Drool sheens your girth. Some even drip from her mouth. It’s like she’s in heat; she’s whining as she tries to cum and suck you off at the same time. Hyeju ends up sucking your shaft with desperation, legs quivering and threatening to give away.

“Cum with me, Hyeju,” you command her. Pull out, rather regretfully, but take comfort with how pretty she’d look covered in your cum. Your hand wraps around you and jerks you off. Although it can’t match Hyeju’s mouth or her ass, it’ll do well in shooting your load on her.

Your best friend keeps calling your name squeezed between “daddy”s as she fingers herself to orgasm. She collapses pathetically on the floor, in a pool of sweat and cum. Her shirt and the floor of your shared dorm room are stained. No need to wonder where those white stains come from; the only suspects are you and Hyeju. It’s a partnered crime for her squirt comes out at such a velocity that it rivals your cumshots.

“Take my load, Hyeju, fuck!”

If there’s anything Hyeju isn’t, it’s submissive. It somehow changes when she nods and opens her mouth. You’re introduced to a whole new side of her. Her post-orgasm face is one you hope to admire everyday. Look at the expressions she makes when her eyes are crossed and her tongue is out for you and you have difficulty choosing between the two.

You and Hyeju exchange a tired look. If you’re to be specific, a look is how everything starts. You became friends with her because she was staring at you too long a time in class. You quickly reunited with her in college when you looked to your back to see to whom the familiar voice belonged. It took one quick glance to see that Daniel had kissed her in the noraebang.

Similarly, a look is what causes you to shamelessly throw Hyeju on the bed again. By now her limbs curl into yours like this were a completely natural thing that happened between you, as if she were always being fucked and manhandled like this. Your kisses now are more aggressive, too. They aren’t nervous like earlier, when you still weren't sure if doing this was right. Hyeju responds by engaging in a battle for dominance, pushing forward and pulling the forces connecting you.

You win in the end.

Slam her back down to the mattress. Her anticipation is written clearly in her eyes. “I’m going to ruin you, Son Hyeju,” you say.

She laughs in your face. “Bet.”

Alright. You’ll show her. It’s a friendly bet you’ll take all seriousness in.

Align your dick with her waiting cunt. You shed all attempts to tease her or dive into foreplay. What she needs is your cock inside her, rearranging her insides. If that’s so, you’ll give it to her.

“Oh!” Hyeju gasps. Her pretty eyes are big above her hands covering her face. She never guessed you would feel this good inside her. “You’re so fucking big, daddy. It's, it’s better than I imagined, fffuck.”

Steer all your weight into this thrust specifically. Your tip makes contact with her G-spot and sends her legs shaking. Send her a couple inches further on the mattress. Her godly tits begin another round of bouncing. There’s no other routine you’d love to watch.

Already you've put your hands on her hips. They’re to pull her closer if she gets lost. Again. You have to make sure you won’t lose her this time. This chance was given to you for a reason. You have to keep her here, show her all the love you’ve kept bottled up all these years.

Hyeju squirms a lot. That’s what your grip is for. It’s to keep her on the bed so she can easily receive your pumps. And what a good job she does at receiving them—Hyeju’s hips shiver as they’re subjected to a force her sensitive pussy can’t handle. She’s always going into things she can’t handle. This is no different. Time with Daniel was okay, but you’re a different story. You ensure that she’s always filled to the hilt until she’s bottoming out.

Deeper and deeper you go. Your cock knocks up into her tummy. You curse; it’s hotter than it’s supposed to be. Something as simple as that shouldn’t be so arousing.

“Oh, you like that? You… you like seeing your big cock stuffing my little pussy?” asks Hyeju. Her teeth are parted to let in air she so desperately needs to formulate these words. She knows they’ll turn you on. “I know you do, daddy. Look at your meat ruining my insides. You’re going to cum so much inside me. And I’ll take it all. I’m a good girl. I’ll show you I’m a good girl.”

She leads your hand to her throat and closes your digits around it. Get the message. Squeeze there tight. Her strangled gasp is everything.

“You are, huh?” you say. Your composure is long gone. “Are you always this tight, Hyeju? Are you always this good? Or is it just for daddy?”

There’s something incredibly hot in the way Hyeju gushes and screams for you. Her nipples stand in the air, aroused by the quick penetrating done to her pussy. It seems almost impossible for her to be this wet. Each push of your hips brings forth a gush of wetness that wets the sheets and your joined crotches. Bring out your cock for a second to quickly flick its tip on her clit.

Hyeju gropes her own chest with closed eyes. “Ohhhh, fuck!”

Return to your routine of drilling her. Her whole body reacts violently to your pounding. Moreover, every part of Hyeju’s beautiful body screams to be touched. Her jiggling thighs and breasts, her midriff prone to your thrusts, her face that’s never looked this slutty… where should you start? Your touch is given multiple choices, and you choose all of them. Your hands roam her body and squeeze and feel and grope. In response, she moans. The volume of her acute voice turns up with each, almost like her body has triggers that would draw out louder sounds.

You think of it that way and now Hyeju’s screaming as you propel inside her while keeping a hand on her clit.

“Daddy, o-only you, daddy!” she proclaims in a helpless scream. “No one can make me feel as good as you do, just keep fucking me, don’t stop!”

You’ve got your answer. Smile in satisfaction and, since she’s a good girl and gave the correct response, lean it to worship her breasts. Does slapping them count as worshiping? Hyeju thinks it does—her high groans and yells are enough to be context clues. You marvel at the size of her chest, so subtle with the baggy clothes she wears but now in their full, naked glory before you. It’s impossible for them to be presented to you without a squeeze being done.

“You like my tits, daddy? I’ll let you fuck them all you want, just finish inside me. I’m safe today. Promise, p-pro—”

Bury yourself deep inside her, to the point that your cockhead pushes at her cervix. Fill her up. Hyeju moans happily. She rolls her body up and down. The stimulation seduces you into making (kind of) breeding her a job well done.

“Thank you, daddy.” she sighs. She’s still erotically grinding her hips. It’s karma for overstimulating her a little earlier when your fingers filled her.

“S-stop, Hyeju.”

“Stop? Alright, sure. I think that’s enough now. Daddy doesn’t want to fuck my tits anymore.”

Naughty little brat. She knows just the right words to tick you off and turn you on. It makes you want her to pound her into the bed again so that not even the old mattress can forget that it was the place you and Hyeju fucked.

“I’m just kidding, silly. Sit down! Yes, thank you.”

She flashes you a smile after you do as she says. It’s a rare moment in this session with her that she has the say in what happens. Somehow. It can’t be completely true, not when she’s on her knees again for you. Not when her tongue trails worshipful lines on your cock and draws tight licks on your tip. Shiver. You’re a bit sensitive yourself.

“Now see how good this feels?”

She takes her glorious breasts in her hands and wraps them around your cock. You let out a guttural moan. Hyeju’s tits rival her mouth and pussy. It’s a close competition, with the advantage of softness most of all. Oh, when she starts to move, gliding her supple skin up and down your size, you almost cum on the spot.

Her bosom is a portal to heaven, you swear. Your legs feel light. Your core is hot as your size disappears between her breasts, buried in the soft and safe haven she provides. The friction is so overwhelming that you doubt it could even be a real sensation.

She makes a show of rubbing your tip on her nipple, similar to what you did to her clit. The two of you are sensitive, so you moan in harmony as it happens. After gliding your cock on her large breasts, she goes back to titfucking you.

It’s all a matter of technique. Whenever she presses her chest together, your cock is suffocated with euphoric tenderness. On the other hand, when she simply moves up and down, you’re given the opportunity to grind down at the skin between her pale breasts. Each route leads to an inevitable fate: exploding all over her a second time.

"P-please stop, Hyeju," you say. You can't handle no more and there's so many more things you want to do to her.

"Awh." She pouts. Fat tears risk spilling from her eyes. God, she could be so cute sometimes. "What do you want, daddy? I can be good."

"Turn around."

"Ohhh, I see what you want." Hyeju turns around and spanks herself. Her ass ripples photogenically. "Of course. Of course you want it."

Hyeju can be so many things. A few minutes earlier she was a submissive babygirl for her daddy, and right before that she was a brat. Now, she transforms into a seductress. She doesn't lace or lingerie to become one. She has that fantastic body to do the work for her.

Hyeju starts to dance. Your eyes are trained on her. They never want to see anything else than her swaying her butt with a dancer's grace and charm.

"Giving me a show, huh?"

"Unless daddy wants it already."

"I do."

She squeezes her ass cheek before reaching her pussy. Then, she rubs her wetness on her pink, puckered hole. She lathers some at the inside of the rim, too. She didn't expect to fuck you today, no matter how many times she's dreamed of it, so there's no lubricant around. Hyeju has to make do.

"Oh!" she squeals when you give her a playful smack on the ass. "Impatient. Daddy's impatient. Don't worry, I'll give it to you."

“You did this before?”

“Duh.” Hyeju smiles sweetly, quickly returning to her good girl side. “You ready now, daddy?”

Apparently, it’s a rhetorical question, for Hyeju immediately guides your tip into her backside. You do your part in spreading her cheeks. Both of you moan at the first contact. It’s difficult by itself to insert just your tip through. She’s too tight.

You’re sinking into this long-chased dream. You’ve seen Hyeju walk around the dorm with no shorts on. Sometimes you're able to catch a glimpse of her bare ass when she dresses up in the dark. It’s normal when it’s with you, considering that your friendship transcends time, but she doesn’t know that yearning’s been put in your heart in those moments. You want her. You want Son Hyeju.

And now, she’s submitting herself to you. She’s given you her body, her tits, her pussy. Now she offers you an equally delicious choice: her supple ass that’s bouncy as it finally sits down completely on your lap.

“Good daddies bounce their babygirls on their knees, right? Should’ve known that, dummy. So come on, pound me. It isn’t hard.”

Well, you are. Hyeju’s ass is constricting you yet you enjoy every second of it. Her tight little asshole clings to you as you do as she says. You’d do anything for Hyeju, and that doesn’t exclude engaging in anal sex with her.

Choose a rhythm to go by to enjoy the tightness Hyeju gives you to the fullest. She leans into you and hums quietly, lower lip worried between her teeth and ass steadily rising and resting. The flexes of your thigh also stimulate her needy pussy. Your knee brushes her clit steadily while your cock penetrates her asshole better than any toy could. Better than any boy would.

“Oh, that feels so good, daddy…” Hyeju murmurs. “Keep spreading me like that, yes.”

Just when she thought you’d switch to being gentle, your thrusts become sporadic. She can’t find which timings you’re going by. The calm before the storm, so to say. Hyeju’s whimpers and whines are your thunder, and they soon live up to their name when they grow louder, filling your ears as would the violent downpour of raindrops.

“D-daddy, daddy, oh my god—” Pain partners up with pleasure in wrecking her hole. Darn you for reaching in front of her to rub her clit as well. Too many things are happening at the same time. “Daddy better make me cum, please, please—”

Your size fills the tight space of her ass so much that it’s difficult to move. The juices of her pussy that she’s used as makeshift lube can’t even do the job they’re assigned to. However, you don’t care about that. You simply fuck Hyeju’s fat, delectable ass like it’s been your long-term dream. In a way it is, but you’d be dreaming about it long after it’s already been fulfilled.

Hyeju stands up to take the lead and work her butt on you. You know she’s an excellent dancer but you never knew she could be this good at twerking either.

“Holy shit, Hyeju, your little asshole feels amazing,” you moan. Spank her, though she’s undeserving of punishment when she’s amazing at using that ass.

“And your cock is so fucking big in my ass,” she says. “I don’t want anything else, daddy. Ohh, god, keep doing that.”

Her rear end bounces and claps together as they take in your fat cock. She looks back at you lustfully, watching you ruin her supple ass. Reach for her breasts to match the velocity of her thrusts. You’re two forces colliding, each filled with fire to defeat the other with pleasure. It’s a losing game when Hyeju’s ass is just as good as her pussy, which you continue playing with to bring her to orgasm.

“Good girl, Hye, keep bouncing that fat ass on daddy,” you whisper in her ear. Love to hear her weak little moans; they show you that she likes this as much as you do. Probably more. “You want to cum, right? You want to squirt on me again?”

“Yes, daddy, please!” Hyeju is in paradise although her skin feels like it’s been set on fire. She hasn’t felt this good before. “No other cock can do me the way you do, daddy, I’m all yours! Make me cum, cum inside me, daddy!”

You’ve changed her. She’s a totally different person outside of the bedroom. She hides her approval in sarcastic comments and teases you about them. How is it that she’s completely submissive and good for you?

Your ego swells. Smack her pussy just enough to make her gasp. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours, daddy!”

“And this ass?”

“It’s all yours, daddy,” sobs Hyeju. “Always so fucking big inside me, so much better, you need to make me cum—”

Pull her down to your lap then thrust inside her all while not letting an inch withdraw from her snug butthole. “Cum for me,” you say.

“Ohhhh fuck!”

Hyeju begins her sexy body rolls again as a profane spray of clear liquid fires from her pussy. She’s so wet; when you rub her clit, a squelching sound is produced. She’s too turned on from the feeling of you savage pounding inside her. She slaps her own pussy to go along with your rubbing, then leads your fingers inside her cunt again. She’s still so tight.

The combined feeling of two of her holes being violated has her tired. She could be murmuring a spell and you wouldn’t know because of how jumbled and jarred her words are. The syllables make out your name and title. At least, that’s what you could understand. It would take an experienced veteran transcriber to make sense of Hyeju’s sounds.

You blast her ass with so much cum that it overflows, like water threatening to spill from the brim of a glass. Your joined cores are so wet and sticky that neither of you feel like moving. You want to stay in the narrow yet pleasurable comfort of each other’s touch forever.

It’s so pleasant that you could only hear the gratifying sound of each other’s pants and not the knocks on your door.

So safe that you don’t hear the sound of a lock being skewered with because each other’s bodies are more homely than this dorm.

So distracting that when he comes in through the door and yells in disgust, it’s the first time you feel an awakening sobriety.

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snappedsky · 4 years

Text

Fanatics 78

Pepito’s band prepares to play for a festival.

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

The Spring Festival

The blaring of an alarm knocks Pepito out of his sleep. He rolls over, groaning as he slaps his phone, shutting it off.

As he sits up, he checks the screen. No notifications.

He sighs heavily as he checks the date. “One week since Squee left.”

Later at Skool, Pepito glowers depressingly at the lunch table, poking at the mystery meat from the cafeteria. Zim, Tak, Dib, and Gaz glare at him wearily.

“Irk, you’re pathetic,” Tak snaps, “get over it already, will you? You think Squee would like it if he knew you were like this?” “Well, Squee’s not here to know anything,” Pepito retorts, pouting.

“You make me sick,” she hisses.

“As much as I hate to agree with Tak,” Zim says, “she has a point. You need to pick yourself up already. You’re an embarrassment.”

In response, Pepito sticks his tongue out at him. Zim irks and prepares to attack him but Dib holds him back.

Gaz side-eyes Pepito as she plays her Game Slave. “Has he called you at all?”

“Nope,” he replies.

“Have you called him?”

“Of course not.”

“Do you think he’s lying around all depressed like you?”

“Huh?” Pepito questions, glaring at her.

“Probably,” she replies, “but he has every reason to. What’s your reason? You miss your boyfriend?”

He flinches, offended. “Well…I can’t help it if I miss him.”

“Maybe not. But you also have no reason to drag the rest of us down with you.”

“What are you-?”

“You know the Spring Festival starts next week,” Gaz says, cutting him off.

“The…Spring Festival?” Pepito questions.

“Seriously? You haven’t heard?” Dib asks, “Mayor Von wants to hold a bunch of events in the city and he’s starting with the Spring Festival. It starts next Friday and goes all weekend. There’s gonna be a bunch of vendors, rides, events.”

“Like a live music event for volunteering musicians,” Gaz adds.

Pepito blinks blankly. “Live…music…?”

“Moron!” she barks, making him flinch backwards. “Maddie sent me this because she was too scared to show it to your mopey face!”

She shows him her phone. On screen is a poster featuring a large, brightly lit stage surrounded by the words: “Calling all musicians! Want a chance to showcase your talent in front of a live audience? Then sign up for the music event at the Spring Festival!”

Pepito just blinks as he stares at it.

“Get it now, idiot?” Gaz snaps, “because of your petty feelings, you could’ve missed this. So what are you gonna do now?”

Pepito stares ahead blankly for a second before scowling with determination and drawing his phone.

Pepito: can we do a band meeting at your place tonight

Carmen: No problem~!

Pepito quickly sends a text to their other bandmates before lowering his phone. Then he takes a deep breath and grins.

The others all smile with relief.

“About time,” Tak comments.

That night, Pepito, Carmen, Maddie, and Colton get together to discuss the festival. Thankfully, it’s Friday and next week is Spring Break, so they got lots of time.

They spend the rest of the week determining their set and practicing. It’s the hardest they’ve ever practiced. This is tremendously different from their last gig, which they played in front of a bunch of drunk partiers who would’ve loved anything. This time, the pressure is real. But they’re all excited.

Next Friday quickly rolls around; the first day of the Spring Festival. So they decide to take the day off and join Zim, Tak, Dib, and Gaz at the fairgrounds.

The majority of the festival is taking place in a large park. The first day is all about the vendors. Booths have been set up all over the field with vendors selling all kinds of things: food, clothing, toys, and more, all homemade. And the place is packed with fairgoers.

“Wow, this is a total hit,” Carmen comments.

“Yeah, Von’s really pulling out all the stops,” Dib adds, “I’m impressed.”

“He’s taking his job as mayor seriously,” Pepito remarks.

“Tch. I would’ve done better,” Zim says bitterly.

They spend most of the day wandering around, perusing the booths. Into the early afternoon, as they pass a seemingly random vendor, a familiar voice calls out to them.

“Hey, kids.” They turn towards the booth to see Devi sitting behind it. Spread out on the table are tons of prints, all painted by her.

“Devi,” Pepito smiles as they approach. “Sorry, I didn’t recognize you. You changed your hair.” She grins as she runs her hand through her new haircut. It’s all black with the right side hanging down to her shoulder and the left side shaved down to a buzz cut. “Yeah, I finally did it yesterday. Cool, right?”

“It totally is,” Colton agrees excitedly.

“Yeah, very punk,” Carmen adds, “I should get a cut like that.”

“You got your own booth? That’s cool,” Gaz comments, “you got it for the whole weekend?”

“No,” Devi sighs, “just for today. I couldn’t afford the rent.” “Well, one day is still good,” Dib says as he flips through her prints. They’re all dark and often of monstrous creatures. “You sell much?”

“I’ve only had a couple customers,” she replies, “I think I scare most people away. But the ones who do like my stuff buy multiple.”

“Your art is really good,” Maddie says in awe.

“Hm,” Pepito hums with consideration. “You know, I’ve been thinking for a while we need some kind of design on the bass drum. Could you paint us something?”

“I’d love to help,” Devi replies, “but I’m indie now. You’ll have to buy a commission.”

“How much?”

She leans back in her chair, rolling her neck. “You know what, I’ll give you a discount. 75 bucks.”

Pepito glances between his bandmates, who all nod agreeably. “Deal,” he says, “ah, but can you do it before Sunday?”

“Why?” Devi questions.

“We’re doing the music event,” he smiles, “and it’d be awesome to show it off for the first time then.”

She nods agreeably. “Alright. But I’ll need to the pay first.”

Pepito, Carmen, Maddie, and Colton quickly dig around in their pockets. They divvy up their cash until they have seventy-five dollars and drop it on her booth.

“Fuck, you guys work fast,” Devi comments, “alright. I’ll get a couple designs ready and tomorrow you can choose one to paint on.”

“Sweet,” Pepito cheers and the others grin excitedly.

They leave Devi to check out the rest of the vendors. While she waits for customers, she opens her sketchbook and gets to work on some designs.

The next day, most of the same vendors are still set up, but the nearby street has been closed off for fair rides. A small rollercoaster, a ferris wheel, a drop tower, and a few different spinning rides have been set up; also fair games and food vendors.

The kids are excited for this one, ready to gorge themselves on rides and junk food. But first, the band has business to attend to in the seating area.

Devi is there waiting for them. She passes them her sketchbook as they sit across from her at the picnic table.

“Pick one,” she says, “I can have it painted today and it should be dry by tomorrow morning. Plenty of time for you to set up for the show.”

“We all have to agree,” Carmen points out. Pepito, Maddie, and Colton nod and they open the book.

Devi sketched out four designs, all of them darkly themed and featuring the band name ‘Hellz Rebels’. It takes a few minutes of deliberation before they finally decide.

“This one,” Pepito declares, handing her back the book.

“Okay,” Devi nods, “I’ll just need access to the drums and I can get to work.”

“They’re at my apartment,” Carmen says as she grabs her house key. “Take my key. My dad’s at work right now but I’ll let him know you’re there.” “Cool. I’ll let you know when I’m done,” Devi waves before leaving.

“I’m feeling pretty excited,” Maddie comments.

“Me too,” Colton nods, “but can we go on the rides now?”

The rest of the day is spent riding the rides, eating junk food, and playing games. By the end of the day, they’re all pretty wiped. But they’re not so tired to not go to Carmen’s and check out Devi’s finished work.

“What do you think?” she asks as she cleans up her painting gear. “I finished a little bit ago. Make sure not to touch it so the paint dries.”

Pepito, Carmen, Maddie, and Colton all smile excitedly as they look at the new design on their bass drum: a large claw painted as if it’s smashing through the drum, with its fingers folded around the words ‘Hellz Rebels’.

“We are so ready for tomorrow,” Pepito smirks.

The next morning, the band gets up around eight and, after breakfast, meet at Carmen’s place. They load the drum kit into her dad’s truck and he drives them to the fairgrounds.

The events don’t begin for another two hours, but the field is already busy with all the musicians. Pepito and the others make their way through the crowd with their instruments to the event coordinator.

“Name?” she asks.

“Uh Hellz Rebels,” Pepito replies.

“Right,” she says as she looks over a clipboard. “You guys will be on at 2:00. You can leave your instruments behind the stage but keep an eye on them. We’re not responsible for any stolen property.”

“Alright, thanks,” he nods and they head across the field to where the stage is set up. Lots of other bands are hanging around the back with their instruments.

“So we got a long time to wait,” Carmen comments.

“Yeah, just chill I guess,” Colton shrugs as he sits in the grass.

They all join him as Pepito fiddles with some kind of speaker device.

“What’s that, Pepito?” Maddie asks.

“A recording device,” he replies, “I’m gonna attach it to the mic when we go on so we can record our set and send it to Squee.” “Oh, that’s a good idea,” Carmen remarks.

“Yeah, it’s too bad he can’t be here,” Colton points out, “he would’ve loved to watch us.”

“Yeah, it would’ve been nice knowing he’s in the crowd,” Pepito says and gestures with the recorder. “But this is the next best thing. And I think he’ll appreciate it.”

The others start to agree when they’re interrupted by a sudden ruckus; somebody shouting in frustration. Everyone peeks around the stage to get a look and sees a person, a teen boy in Goth attire, getting angry at the event coordinator.

“I demand to be let on!” he barks, “everyone must here my voice!”

“I already told you,” the coordinator argues impatiently, “you didn’t sign up and we’re completely booked. We have no time for you.”

“Blasphemy!” he snaps, “censorship! I will not be held down!”

Without another word, he stomps away, leaving everyone to stare after him, baffled.

“What a tool,” Pepito comments and the others laugh in agreement.

Zim, Tak, Dib, and Gaz arrive later, around eleven. Much of the same vendors are still there, but new ones are too selling music related items, like CDs for the indie bands playing today. They wander around for a bit before heading to the stage, where the musicians have already started playing. Currently up is a saxophonist playing some soulful jazz.

“Looks like there’s gonna be a lot of variety,” Dib remarks.

“I only care about Maddie,” Gaz grunts as she takes out her Game Slave.

“Human music is so unappealing,” Zim comments.

“You like Pepito’s music,” Dib points out.

“That’s different,” he insists.

“Why do you call it ‘human music’?” Tak scoffs, “Irkens don’t even have music.”

“Other species do,” Zim points out, “I happen to enjoy Screwnat music.”

“Wow, you really do have no taste.” While the Irkens argue and Gaz plays her game, Dib happily bobs his head to the music. He may be here to support Pepito and the others, but good music is still good music so he might as well enjoy himself.

He’s interrupted however, when someone shoves their way through the crowd and bumps his shoulder.

“Hey,” he whines but the person ignores them and keeps heading towards the stage, muttering angrily. Dib stares after them and notices they dropped something: a flat, black rock about the size of a hand. Dib picks it up, flips it over, and gasps. On the other side is a magical rune painted in red.

“Zim,” he says.

“-the simplicity is the best part. It allows the listener to not need much thought to listen to it,” Zim argues, ignoring him.

“You don’t need much thought in general,” Tak retorts.

“Zim!” Dib exclaims.

“What!” Zim barks, “I’m in a very heated discussion.”

“Look,” he orders, handing him the stone.

“What it is?” he asks.

“It’s a witch’s rune,” Dib replies, “somebody just dropped one as they were walking towards the stage.”

“What’s it do?”

“I…don’t know. But it can’t be good.” “Hmm,” Zim muses as he stares at the stone.

“Maddie texted to me that somebody was really angry that they couldn’t play today,” Gaz says.

“Could the event be in danger?” Dib asks.

“Ugh,” Zim groans, “we better investigate before Pepito goes on.” The others nod and they push their way through the crowd to the stage. There’s plastic barricades keeping the audience a couple feet away from the stage, and dropped in the space are three more of the runes but these ones are glowing, and no sign of the person.

Dib quickly scoops up all the stones and the team examines them.

“It’d be better if we knew what they did,” Tak points out.

“Give me a minute,” Dib demands and opens Zim’s PAK. He reaches inside and pulls out a big textbook titled ‘Supernatural Items and Facts’. Many pages are marked with tabs. He flips through it and stops on a page with many similar runes and explanations.

“Here,” he says, pointing at the same rune as on the stones. “The Explosive Rune.”

“Well, that’s self-explanatory,” Gaz remarks.

“They can be detonated from a short distance away when activated,” Dib reads, “that must be why they’re glowing.”

“We need to destroy these,” Zim points out.

The team quickly scurries out of the crowd to an empty part of the field. Then Dib drops all four stones on the grass and Zim blasts them to bits with his spider legs.

“Somebody’s trying to destroy the stage and ruin the music show,” Dib declares.

“It must be that weirdo Maddie was talking about,” Gaz adds, “he must be trying to get revenge for not being allowed to play.”

“We have to find him before he tries another stunt,” Zim says.

“But how?” Dib asks.

“If he wants revenge, then he must be nearby to watch the explosion when it goes off,” Tak muses, “which means he would’ve seen us take the stones. So…”

“Hey!”

They turn at the shout and see the Goth boy causing a ruckus earlier marching up to them.

“Bingo,” Tak nods.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the boy snaps.

“Us?” Dib retorts, “why are you trying to blow up the stage? You could hurt people, maybe even kill them!”

“If I can’t be allowed to sing, then nobody can!” he barks.

“You’re the one who didn’t sign up on time,” Gaz points out, “this is your own fault.” “I will not be tied to bureaucratic rules,” he argues, “and nobody will stop me from getting my revenge!”

“Listen, you worm,” Zim snarls, “this whole event has made Pepito finally stop whining about Squee being away. And I will not let you ruin this for me!”

“Zim,” Dib scolds.

“And Pepito too, I guess,” he adds indifferently.

“You think you can stop me?” the boy scoffs, “I am a witch! A powerful, magical being! You normal humans have nothing on me!”

“Jokes on you,” Zim retorts, “half of us aren’t even normal humans!”

“Whatever you are,” the witch snaps as he reaches into his coat and pulls out a wand. “I’ll reduce you all to dust!”

“Watch out!” Dib cries and the Battalion dive out of the way as the witch fires a bright green bolt from his wand. It leaves a small crater where they were standing.

Zim and Tak both snarl as they skid across the dirt. Zim draws his laser guns and Tak’s robot arm shifts into a cannon and they both take aim before firing.

The witch swings his wand, deflecting their beams, and fires another one at them. They jump out of the way and continue firing.

Meanwhile, Dib and Gaz watch from a few feet away.

“Dammit,” Dib snaps, “we don’t have our weapons.”

“I keep an extra bat in Zim’s PAK,” Gaz says, “but I don’t think I’ll have a chance to get it.”

“We have to take him down before Pepito goes on,” he points out, “we can’t miss his show.”

“Well, Zim and Tak should be able to handle this,” she retorts.

The witch sends the Irkens scattering with another blast before waving the wand around himself and chanting, “icken bicken licken might, give me the power of flight!”

Sparkles waft around him as he levitates off the ground, going higher until he’s nearly over the trees. Then he flies around like a bug and continues blasting at Zim and Tak below. They both cry out in frustration as they struggle to dodge.

“Dammit, they’re hopeless,” Gaz groans and shouts at them, “it’s two on one! Take him down already!”

“Silence!” they bark back and dodge another beam.

“He’s not giving them a chance to attack,” Dib observes, “there’s gotta be something we can do to help. Maybe cause a distraction to get his attention so they can hit him. We have limited options though. If we could find another weapon then-.”

Before he can finish, Gaz yanks his textbook out of his hand and whips it at the witch. It clonks him in the side of the head, making him cry out in pain and surprise as he falls to the ground.

“That works,” Dib shrugs.

Groaning in pain, the witch lifts himself out of the dirt. He looks around frantically for his wand before spotting just a foot away. But before he can grab it, Zim steps on it, breaking it in two. The witch glares at him and Tak as they stand over him.

“Now, who’s getting reduced to dust?” Zim growls as they ready their weapons. But a voice stops them before they can fire.

“Robbie?” A girl in a Goth Lolita dress emerges from the trees. “Robbie, there you are!”

“Bianca?” Dib questions.

“Who?” Zim grunts.

“She’s a witch in our class, remember? She tried to force Squee and me to tutor her for finals a couple years ago.”

“Eh.”

Bianca barely pays them any mind as she passes by and grabs the other witch- Robbie- by his ear, yanking him to his feet.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she snaps, “causing so much trouble?”

“It’s not my fault,” he whines, “they wouldn’t let me sing.”

“I told you to sign up yesterday,” she retorts, “you didn’t listen. Let’s go, Auntie’s looking for you.”

“Wait! They broke my wand!”

“Good, you deserve it.”

“Wa-wa-wa-wait!” Zim barks as Bianca starts to walk away. “What’s going on here?”

“This is my stupid cousin, Robbie,” Bianca replies, “I’m sorry for any trouble he caused. My auntie will deal with him.”

“So we’re just supposed to let him go?” Dib questions, “he was gonna blow up the stage with explosive runes.”

“You tried to use explosive runes?” she barks, smacking Robbie upside his head. “This is why you can never visit!”

Dib sighs and rubs his forehead. “Alright, forget it. He’s clearly in good hands. We’ll leave him to you.”

“Thank you,” Bianca nods, “trust me, he’ll be properly punished.”

“I will not stand for this censorship!” Robbie cries as she drags him away.

“Shut up, you little moron,” she snaps, “your music sucks anyway.”

Zim, Tak, Dib, and Gaz watch them walk away before sighing.

“Well, that takes care of that, I guess,” Dib says.

“Good,” Gaz nods, “cause it’s almost two.”

“We better get back to the stage,” Zim orders.

They hurry through the park and arrive back to the stage. They join Devi and Tenna, who are standing near the back of the crowd, just before the current band finishes up. Then Hellz Rebels take the stage.

Pepito looks into the crowd as he sets down his amp and sees his friends waving excitedly. He grins and looks to his band.

“Ready?” he asks.

They all smile and nod.

“Then on your cue, Maddie,” he says, lifting his guitar.

She takes a deep breath and grips her mic.

“Are you guys ready to rock!?”

Later that night, in Cammie’s house, Squee and Johnny are lounging on the couch as the recording of the Hellz Rebels’ performance plays through Squee’s cellphone.

“You know, I hate to say it,” Nny says, “but they’re actually not bad.”

Squee smiles. “Yeah. They sound awesome. I wish I could’ve seen them live.”

“But you didn’t,” a voice points out nastily, wiping away Squee’s smile. His eyes narrow with annoyance at the stress toy sitting on the coffee table.

“You miss your friends, huh?” Squishy Pete says, “do you think they miss you? Like actually miss you? Do you think they want you back? Or is this break a relief for them? Probably the latter, right? I mean that’s why you left in the first place. For a break.”

Pete’s wide, fanged smile starts to widen as Squee rubs his tired eyes. But before the toy can say anything more, a hand suddenly swipes him from the table.

“Found him!” Eff announces, waving him in the air.

“He sure disappears quickly,” Sickness remarks as the other Night Terrors join him.

“Yeah, we can’t turn our backs for a second,” D-boy adds.

“He’s a tenacious little parasite,” Eff agrees as he tightly squeezes the toy.

“Let me play with him,” Reverend Meat begs.

“No, you always pop him too quickly,” Eff replies, “that’s no fun.”

“Yeah, we gotta make him suffer a bit,” D-boy adds.

“Guys!” Squee snaps, “can you take this somewhere else? I’m trying to listen to something.”

“Sorry, Little Boss,” the Night Terrors sing.

“Let’s play hacky sack with him outside,” Sickness suggests.

“Yeah!” the others cheer and race out the door.

Johnny watches them leave before looking at the Squee. He’s quietly rubbing his closed eyes.

“You okay?” Nny asks.

“Yeah,” Squee replies, opening his eyes. “Just tired.”

Nny nods understandably. “So, Granny’s going to L.A tomorrow to do some shopping. You wanna go?”

Squee looks at his phone as he listens to the Hellz Rebels sing. He’s not sure he wants to go anywhere right now. But it’s also been almost two weeks.

“Sure,” he replies, “I guess I should try going out in public again. It has been a while.”

Nny scoffs, “the public is overrated. But shopping can be fun.”

Squee smiles at him. “Yeah.”

Nny smiles back and they settle back down as they continue to listen to the music.

#invader zim #invader zim fanfiction #johnny the homicidal maniac #johnny the homicidal maniac fanfiction #iz jthm crossover #myocs #myart

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

Beyond My Wildest Dreams Ch 5/5 (Nina West/OC) - multifandomgeek

A/N: This is it, the final chapter. Thank you so much for everyone who left comments and indulged me on this little tribute to Nina. The project on this fic is inspired by the Project for Awesome, and in the back of my mind I hope Nina steals this idea some day and puts it to practice.

Thank you Writworm for betaing these last two chapters and thank you Meggie, pinkgrapefruit, and Dane for all the encouragement to finish this, I really needed it and couldn’t have done without it.

AO3

Nina’s house looked like the headquarters of a bank robber from an action movie. There were cables everywhere, her dinner table was currently supporting two big monitors connected to a laptop where there was a guy sitting down looking at so many things at once it was actually dizzying. On her couch, there were more people on laptops, and a few more desks were placed around temporarily.

The Big Project, now properly named Queens for Queers, had officially started 10 hours ago, though this set-up had been going on for a lot longer than that. There was a website up with all the information on the project. They had managed to partner up with some of the biggest LGBTQIA+ non-profit organization on the country plus a few international ones, and they were all listed with information on their work plus links to their own websites. Nina had done background checks on them personally, it was of the utmost importance that no corrupt or questionable organization was linked to this.

All the Drag Queens you could possibly know or follow on social media were talking about this, even if they weren’t participating directly on the project or didn’t help with the marketing campaign from the previous months. Queer celebrities and even a few mainstream ones were also helping spread the word spontaneously, making huge donations themselves. It was incredible.

When you visited the website, the first thing you saw was the donation button. Anyone could donate whatever amount they wanted, through any kind of card (debit, credit, international), and a couple of digital payments options also. That was a huge deal for international fans, Nina found, and had been a great idea not that hard to pull through. Under that, there was the ever-running number of dollars already raised, coupled with the name/alias of the last person who donated or purchased anything not anonymously.

Then, you would see the digital products. All the lives the queens were making were being recorded in HD and would be available for purchase. A few queens were also making special exclusive episodes of their podcasts for the project, some even making Q&As with only questions from buyers. There was Shangela’s podcast, Katya’s, Willam and Alaska’s, Bob and Monét’s, Dragcast, of course, and a few other popular Drag Race-centered pods. Trixie and Katya offered an exclusive episode of Unhhh with the same editors that would be called “This is totally a different show” for copyright reasons, which was really a money maker, Nina was considering upping the price of that one. Any of the digital products cost 15 dollars each, or you could have them all for $75. It was unlimited supply with a fixed cost and no shipping, really a nice, digital-era way of selling stuff. They would be delivered until pride and were being purchased in buckets by people all over the world, it was insane!

After that, you would see the merch. They had commissioned and in some cases had the works made for free from the best fan-artists known in the Drag Race fandom, and they were all printed on shirts, mugs, and posters ready to ship. All proceeds went to the project, but all credits were linked to the artists. Cheyne Gallard’s one was Nina’s personal favorite, and she was actually wearing it as she made sure if anybody needed anything while they worked.

Then, there were the lives’ tokens. The project would run for 24 hours, each hour had a live stream with a queen, some with two or three, like the Branjie one. Each queen was instructed to have a few things they could sell ready to be shown. Most of them had dug up some outfits they didn’t use anymore, some signed a few things. Katya promised to lick a few in her upcoming lives, and Nina had to tell her that no, she couldn’t fuck herself with anything and then sell it for charity, no matter how much more money it would make. Kevin made her sign a contract saying she wouldn’t, just in case.

Right now, Silky was live. She was driving around Los Angeles making every single person she knew sign the shirt she was wearing, which was obviously big enough to hold a lot of autographs, and Silky knew a lot of people. It was genius, people were already auctioning it on the website and the price was jaw-dropping. It was threatening to surpass Brooke’s red hoodie, which Vanjie convinced her to sell in their predictably most viewed live so far. Nina sat on her bed to watch it nervously, but her laptop got closed before she could really see anything.

“You need to calm down,” said Kevin, taking the device away from her and putting it on the nightstand with one hand while the other held a mug. “Finn is taking care of everything, we’re at a shouting distance, everything is going smoothly,” he said, climbing on the bed with her and sitting in front of her, handing her the mug. “I made you some nice, creamy cocoa,” he kissed her cheek, “so you can forget about numbers and internet connections for a second or you’ll have a migraine before this is even halfway done.”

“I love you so much,” said Nina, leaning to kiss Kevin on the lips after tasting the deliciously sweet cocoa. “Also, I noticed you locked the door?” she asked with a grin.

“I didn’t know if I would have to resort to extreme measures to make you relax, what can I say?” he said, smiling as he kissed her again. Nina put the mug away so she could kiss him deeply and pull him to lay down with her. She wouldn’t let it go too far (probably), but a little make-out session couldn’t hurt. She let out a low grunt as he licked into her mouth. Even after more than a year together, his soft touches mixed with passion still had her in awe.

“Oh my God, Nina!” came a shout, followed by a thug on the door, “bitch, is this locked?” Jamie’s voice could be heard as the doorknob rattled.

“Ugh,” grunted Kevin, falling on the bed on his back. Nina chuckled, giving him a short peck before getting up to open the door for her friend.

“What’s up, Jamie?” asked Nina.

“Remember when we said Ru must still be asleep?” said Jamie, barging into the bedroom and sitting on the edge of the bed with her laptop open. The project had started at midnight, and the lack of any manifestation from the biggest Queen of all had them jokingly saying she must still be asleep. Nina didn’t think much about it, really. Ru didn’t meddle with her children’s project, it was her MO. “She fucking woke up!”

Nina sat down and leaned into Jamie’s shoulder to look at her screen. Kevin did the same at her other side and both had their jaw dropped as soon as they spotted the number that indicated the amount of money they had already raised, right at the center of the Queens for Queers website.

“ONE MILLION DOLLARS?” Nina screamed. The last time she checked, they were at a very uplifting 400 thousand, still counting, and she was very happy with it. It was already more than she was hoping for, more than enough to account for the costs and then some, which was always the main goal.

“Mama Ru saw the thing and said, I’m gonna round it up for my girl Nina,” said Jamie laughing. She put her laptop on the bed and shook Nina a little, who was still frozen in her shocked expression. “She did it, Nina! For you!”

“One million fucking dollars,” she said again, looking at Jamie. “One million, Jamie!” she started laughing and hugged her.

“We’re not even halfway,” murmured Kevin from the other side, both hands on the side of his own face and looking like he was on the verge of crying. “Guys, that’s so much money,” he said, like he just realized it.

Jamie looked at him like she just now noticed he was there. “Oh, right, that’s why the door was locked! Sorry!” She said, suddenly picking her computer up. She hugged Nina one more time, they were both smiling as wide as they possibly could.

“One million,” said Nina again, giving little jumps of joy.

Jamie closed the door as she left, and Nina twisted the lock, promptly jumping at Kevin, tackling him to the bed and making him scream-laugh, startled. She kissed him all over his face, this wonderful man who she was so lucky to meet, so lucky to fall in love with, with whom she could share one of the biggest joys of her life right now. Who had made it happen, together with her.

“I love you so fucking much,” said Kevin, burying his face in Nina’s neck.

“One million dollars!” said Nina as if she was physically unable to say anything else. It didn’t matter, he knew. He laughed as she kissed him, kissing back just as fiercely.

The door was locked; they were going to celebrate.

#rpdr fanfiction #nina west #oc #fluff #beyond my wildest dreams #multifandomgeek #s11 #nina x oc #canon compliant

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kariachi · 5 years

Text

Martin Mystery commission for @thenixkat!! A 10k rewrite of Hairier and Scarier, now featuring more Tonio and sorority girls!

Martin had, at first, been displeased with the Center work station that had been stowed away in his dorm as an alternative to giving him a raise. Diana had tried to convince him this was the better deal, but there was no way on the bright blue ball that was Earth he believed it. Even now, he would’ve preferred the extra five grand a year that had been tossed the others’ way. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t about to take full advantage.

“Check it out, Jav! The inside scoop on all of Torrington’s hottest hotties!”

Having a personal computer of any sort was handy. It gave him the opportunity to write stuff out and store it away without needing to take up physical space, which was especially useful when one was trying to gather as much information with which to impress girls as physically possible. With how important his studies of the paranormal, supernatural, and just magic in general were, there simply wasn’t enough space in his brain to remember all the little tidbits of information he managed to gather about, not just hotties, but also his friends and the occasional boy Tonio was into. And Center computers? Were all set and ready to make files on individuals, a program Martin was using with gleeful abandon.

He was very proud of himself for his work. Doubly so for how well he’d hidden it all. These files were all hidden in the folder he used to store his original fiction, which itself was labeled ‘Case Notes 4-73X-52K’. It was as secure as he could make it without arousing suspicion.

“Betty here,” he said as he showed off his work, “is president of the chick flick fan club, and guess who’s got two tickets to the premiere of Tears of a Teenage Beauty Queen?” He threw a smile at Java as he took out and waved said tickets, receiving a wide grin in return.

“Very smooth.”

“Thank you. Now,” he stowed the tickets back away and moved on to the next file, “meet Maria. Her locker is lined with posters of Rad Bradford- the world’s top male eyebrow model. You know, people say I have brows just like his.”

“If you say so.” It wasn’t the most encouraging response, but okay. Next file.

“And let’s not forget Louise- her favorite color is fuchsia, so wait until she sees me in this!” Martin pulled a floral print fuchsia shirt out of a bag by his chair, holding it up to himself. He had been warned against this color once before- against the whole pink-purple spectrum really- but he was not going to let the opinion of two sorority girls, given ages ago, stop him from getting a foot in with a hot girl. It wasn’t gonna happen.

“Nice shirt, for a limbo contest.” He also was not going to let his sister’s opinions stop him, but that was a vow going back several years. Java turned at Diana’s entrance with a smile. Martin ignored her, as was the proper brotherly way. Besides, he had other things to worry about- like ‘should I gun for a forth girl, just in case, given my track record’. It was a new technique he was trying, if going hard after one girl at a time wasn’t giving him results, maybe going less after more girls would give him more luck…

“Martin Mystery!” And she was going to sick her nose in it, of course. “You can’t use Center equipment for your own personal dating scams!” For a brief instant the smart-ass in him wanted to point out that he also sometimes used it to help Tonio get dates, though the thought was snuffed out quickly. Instead he just returned her glower.

“Why not? It’s not like anyone’s gonna find out.” He had this on lockdown, the only weak link in security was Diana herself and

And MOM’s face replaced Louise’s on the screen.

Fuck.

“I’m never quite sure,” she said as Martin felt every individual cell in his body try to back away, “whether you underestimate me or overestimate yourself, Martin.” She looked pissed. In a moment of panic Martin began trying to close the file, or bring up another file, or do anything really that would get that look off his screen. It didn’t work. Nothing worked. Diana, beside him, looked too damn smug, probably with the timing as much as anything. Java was edging away. MOM glared harder.

“Meet me in my office, Agent Mystery.”

~~~

Whoever oversaw maintenance for cell block C ought to have been taken out and shot. There was no way all of those cells could’ve gotten that dirty with regular cleaning, it just wasn’t physically possible. The doors, the walls, the floors, everything was covered in patches and puddles of muck and grime and other things that it made even Martin’s skin crawl to think about. And given the cleaning supplies at his feet, and the look MOM was giving him, he had the sinking suspicion this was all about to be his problem.

“Perhaps after cleaning the cages you’ll think twice about misusing Center equipment.”

“Ya know,” Martin replied, even as a voice in the back of his head told him he was pushing his luck, “why don’t I just go think about it now?” If anything MOM’s gaze got firmer.

“I can double the task if you feel like playing games, Martin.” It was no wonder she’d gotten the designation MOM, getting reprimanded by her was just as bad as by his own mother. For a moment he felt like he was six again, being stared down as he suggested donating all his clothes to charity so he could fit more comic books in his closet.

Was not a fun feeling.

“Sorry you got busted, dude,” Billy said, hovering to his side as MOM walked away. There was nothing Martin could do but sigh.

“A fair price to pay,” he said, not really feeling it, “MOM’s not gonna delete everything I had on there, is she?” He wasn’t holding out hope for his files, but… Billy gave him a smile and a pat on the shoulder.

“Your stories are safe and sound,” he said, and a bit of weight lifted off Martin’s spine, “but you can’t put them under false labels anymore.”

“When you say ‘can’t’-”

“Don’t or MOM will just take the whole workstation. And you still won’t get a raise.”

“Damnit.” Martin huffed. That was just his luck. “Well, at least I’ve got you to help out, right Billy?”

“Nope.” He was still smiling. That was not something you said to a guy who was about to clean all of this and still smile! “I’ve got my own work to do.” As everything from Martin’s shoulders to spirits sank like a busted freighter, Billy patted him again and hovered passed him towards the exit. “Have fun, Martin!”

That. Traitor.

Martin groaned and looked around at the cages again. Filthy was an understatement, even he managed to keep a cleaner space than this. His mom would’ve pulled out the flamethrower again if she’d seen the mess in front of him. And it was all on Martin to clean it, by himself, with the occupants of the cages still there. What was MOM trying to do, kill him?

“Well,” he said to himself as he spotted one- one- left empty and began to haul supplies to it, “might as well start with the easy cage.”

He didn’t have the authorization needed to open any of the cages in a single button press, and even MOM didn’t have the authorization to give him the authorization, so Martin was forced to type in his unique security password, plus the ‘punishment’ code- which explained why he was opening a cage and also barred him from opening any others until this one was shut and locked- followed by scanning his u-watch before the doors would open. The Center could afford overkill, but apparently not janitorial staff.

It was, he couldn’t help thinking, strange that this cell was as dirty as the rest of them despite having nothing in it. But then, if maintenance couldn’t be bothered to clean the cages that were in use, why would they touch the ones that weren’t. And he almost, almost, couldn’t blame them. These cages were well lit, but had nothing resembling an amenity outside a single bed that was, in all honesty, more like a bench than anything. No ventilation. No grates. This one in particular had a pile of shit off to one side and he was certain he was going to see more. There was just the bench, the tile floor, and a piece of paper taped to the back wall. It would’ve still been creepy and suffocating even without the mess.

Martin took a moment to check the piece of paper out, mostly because he wanted a distraction from his chore. It was an article! About him! About a werewolf capture he’d made what felt like ages ago. It even had a picture.

“Aw, someone was a fan.” Okay, that was a bright spot in his day. Kind of. If nothing else look at the angle in that photo, count on the guys from the Center’s weekly newsletter to get his good side. Still, something about the article rustled his jimmies, even as he settled in to start scrubbing some unidentifiable muck out of a back corner. There’d been something about that mission, it’d been a struggle and really unique and he found himself wracking his brain to remember why. It’d turned out to be a werewolf but there was something about it, it had been

A phantom. A phantom werewolf.

It’d been invisible.

Martin froze in his scrubbing, muscles going tense. He was alone, in a supposedly empty cage, that had an article on the wall about an invisible werewolf he’d put in here. His back was to the cage. He took a deep breath, moving slowly to place the rag he’d been using on the floor. The door was still open, he hadn’t seen a reason to close it, so. Best case scenario, nothing was in here, he was being paranoid. Next best case, it was asleep and he hadn’t woken it. Worst case, it was

There was a thud as something dropped from the ceiling.

Going with his first instinct, as soon as the werewolf hit the ground behind him Martin dove for the door, reeling back when it darted in front of him with a growl. Okay. Okay. It was between him and the door, all long limbs and dark fur and probably one hell of a grudge from the way it was growling.

“Hey there,” he said, plastering on the fakest smile he’d ever managed, “long time no see.” The growling got louder as it stalked closer. Martin tried to edge towards the door. “Look, clearly you don’t want me here, so how about I just leave, huh?”

To his utter lack of surprise, the werewolf did not step aside and let him walk out a free man. In a heartbeat it dove at him, knocking Martin to the ground as he clapped his hands around it’s wrists to hold back vicious claws and dodged away from snapping teeth inches from his nose. Fuck, the thing reeked as bad as it’s cage. Scrambling, he managed to get his feet planted against it’s belly and heaved, launching it across the cage and onto it’s back. Years of practice made it easy to jump to his feet, using the bench as a platform to bypass the monster as it recovered from the rough landing and flipped back over, just in time to grab his left arm as Martin bolted through the doors, setting off the automatic locking mechanism.

Oh god. Oh fuck. Oh shit.

Panic setting in, Martin grabbed his arm and began to heave against the werewolf’s grip, the machinery behind the plexiglass doors whirring as they applied gentle pressure along his arm where they’d have liked to be closing. A tiny piece of Martin’s brain took the time to be glad they weren’t just shutting anyway, taking the limb clean off, though that may have been safer than the position he was in now. It felt like an eternity, though probably it was only seconds, before the werewolf lost its grip and Martin fell back with a cry of pain, clutching his arm. As the door properly shut and sealed, he turned his attention from the still growling creature to his forearm. More specifically, to the four fresh, bloody gashes on it.

Fuck.

~~~

He didn’t finish his cleaning. They couldn’t have made him, not with a gun to his head. Martin Mystery was not a man prone to fear, but he was a man who had grown up with magic and been interested in the supernatural since he was old enough to focus his eyes and he was not, under any circumstances, going to let a wound from a werewolf fester. As soon as he’d come down from the adrenaline and shock of a sudden werewolf attack and the realization that he’d been scratched, Martin had shucked his shirt- it wasn’t like he didn’t have more- and used it to wrap his arm just long enough to flee back to Torrington.

Stowed safely away under his bed was what may well have been some of the most valuable stuff at Torrington. Most people, from just looking at the cache, would’ve laughed at the idea- a mangled disaster of a book, a handful of various stones, bundles of leaves, grasses, herbs, and a few little carved items of wood, bone, one of gemstone, still nothing fancy. But it was, more valuable than damn near anything. Nowhere else on school property were you going to find a higher concentration of magic and spell components than in the dark wood box cleverly hidden behind a take-out container and a pile of possibly-sentient-at-this-point socks.

It was this box that Martin dragged out as soon as he’d locked the door to his dorm and drawn the curtains. His spellbook, the sapphire frog, a few different herb bundles, and because he wasn’t quite stupid the first aid kit he’d promised his mother he’d keep somewhere accessible back when she’d first signed the paperwork for him to begin work at the Center. He had to have, somewhere in there, or in the myriad of other books on things so many people thought weren’t worth studying with the fervor he threw at them, there had to be some way to prevent werewolf curses settling in. There had to be.

Martin Mystery spent the next seven hours trying everything he possibly could before he finally went to bed.

Then he spent another four trying them all again.

~~~

Lunch the next day was… interesting.

Martin headed to meet Diana in the lunchroom, arm still aching from both the wound and his attempts to make sure there wasn’t any curse to it, only to be met with wide eyes and a noise somewhere between impressed and concerned.

“That must have been some punishment.”

“Yeah, it’s not easy being me, Di.” He stretched and clenched his fingers as he spoke. Tonio had seen him without the bandages that morning and expressed worry that it might be bad enough to screw with his movement, so now Martin was worried about it too despite himself. Maybe he should ask Diana about that? If anyone would know how deep a wound it would’ve had to be to cause problems it’d be her... He threw his gaze around the room as he considered the option- maybe he should get lunch first? Despite the breakfast Java had brought up when he hadn’t shown at the cafeteria, he felt like his stomach was gnawing on it-

Wait, stop, Betty was right there!

“Now if you’ll excuse me-” And he was gone, leaving his sister blinking in his dust as he all but teleported across the room to Betty’s table. Betty who didn’t look to happy to see him. Well, that was going to change soon enough. “Betty! Just the girl I was looking for.”

“Get lost, Martin.” He was not deterred. He was never deterred. He was hungry, but not deterred.

“Hey, is that any way to talk to someone who scored two tickets to tonight’s premiere of-” What was that smell? Oh god it smelled amazing- He looked down and was immediately enraptured by the contents of Betty’s plate. “Those look delish!” At no point had any cafeteria food, even Java’s, looked or smelled so wonderful as that chicken did to Martin in that moment, standing there with his stomach consuming itself like a black hole.

“You don’t mind if I take one of these, do you?” he asked, throwing up a smile as he snatched a wing off her plate, not even noticing the way he was practically draping himself over the plate or how Betty backed away. What he did notice was Luke straight lifting him off the ground by the back of his shirt.

“Dude,” the other boy said firmly, “some manners around my girlfriend!” Girlfriend? His? Between this new information and the fact there was chicken in his hand and not yet in his mouth Martin was at a bit of a loss.

“But, I’m just so hungry, I can’t help myself…” It wasn’t a lie, but it was still about to get him punched before Diana jumped in to save his life.

“Luke, wait!” It said something about how she was held at this school as compared to her brother that Martin was immediately set down, Diana automatically grabbing hold of him. “Martin’s just, part of a science experiment I’m running. He hasn’t eaten in three days, it’s making him loopier than normal, I’m so sorry.” She steered him away from the table as she spoke, Luke glaring after them, and Martin was grateful- in a confused way- until she reached for the food.

“Back off, Di, the wing is mine!” he growled as they briefly wrestled over the chicken, only for her to wrench the item out of his hands. Martin all but whimpered as she turned with a tense grin and replaced it on Betty’s plate, then took advantage of the continuing confusion of everybody involved to grab him by the undamaged arm and haul.

“Are you crazy?!” she growled under her breath as she lead the way to the door. “What’s wrong with you?!”

“I don’t know,” he replied, and it was the honest truth even if he wasn’t really paying attention to her. No, his eyes were on a new plate of chicken, hot and fresh and smelling delicious and going right passed them. “But I have to eat!”

Laser focused on the plate, Martin pulled out of his sister’s grasp, hardly noticing the world around him until after the crash, when he was on the floor next to Jessie, wrapped around her plate like a cat with a yarn mouse.

Floor chicken was awesome.

~~~

The floor chicken, alongside a plate of his own Diana grabbed him and the first of her plates, was thankfully enough to take the edge off Martin’s hunger. At least, enough of an edge that he could think about other things, like the slight itch that was leading him to rub his shin against the inside of his jeans or, more importantly, the fact that while Betty had been a bust he and Di shared an art class with Maria and they were currently working on figure drawing and anatomy.

So of course when Ms. Sachs called for a volunteer, Martin was immediately in motion. After all, as he pointed out with a gaze in Maria’s direction, he was a dead ringer for Rad Bradford. In fact, now that he was started-

“This pose,” he told Maria, who from her small jump clearly hadn’t been expecting him to suddenly be practically hanging off her easel, “is for you.” That’s it, Mystery. Who the man? You the man.

“Get your own girlfriend, loser.” Wait, what? When did Brody get there? And when had he started dating Maria?!

“Heh, sorry,” Martin replied, backing off sheepishly, “I didn’t know she was spoken for.” Because she hadn’t been three days ago! What the fuck? First Betty, now Maria? Thankfully he was broken from that spiral of confusion and poor timing by the sudden impact of a piece of charcoal against the back of his head. A quick turn to investigate revealed who else but Diana, ready with another piece to throw if he didn’t get his butt in gear.

“If you’re gonna pose, pose already,” she insisted, and though Martin rolled his eyes he went to do so. After all, there were still a few hot girls in the class- though sorority ties barred him from moving in on two of them- so he may as well peacock while he had the chance. He made his way to the stool in the center of the studio and struck a classic pose, brow twitching when Diana immediately laughed. “The Thinker? Really? How about something more believable?”

For a brief moment, his temper flared, and he seriously considered mooning her in front of the entire class. But, Taylor was to his right and would’ve nailed him with something heavier than a bit of charcoal if he did, so he instead settled on pulling down his lids, twisting his face into the most grotesque mask he could manage just long enough to get his friends to laugh and Diana to comment on its appropriateness before settling back into something more relaxed.

Things were fine like that for about ten minutes.

The problem with posing for a class, especially semi-impromptu posing, was that there was nothing to distract you but your own mind. Normally this wasn’t a problem for Martin, his imagination ran like an ostrich through the savannah, but today was just proving, difficult. He was still hungry enough for it to keep him from thinking, and the more he sat there the worse the itching from before seemed to become. Maybe if he’d had some music going or something he could’ve focused on that instead, but in a quiet room it was like it was getting worse and worse until finally he just, had to scratch. He tried to keep it low-key at first but…

“Stay still, Martin.” Diana was not alone in this request, the rest of the class either grumbling or looking at him in concern as his scratching got more intense.

“I can’t, I’m all itchy! The fuck, did I get fleas or something?” If that werewolf gave him fleas on top of everything he was quitting the Center and reading tarot for a living like his grandmother. The majority of the class picked up their easels and moved back a step, the rest descended into chuckles and open laughter as Martin scratched like he was trying to take skin off, having to actively stop himself from just gnawing on his own leg.

“Try doing your laundry once in a while!”

He could only fucking hope that was the problem.

~~~

At least during gym there were things to keep his mind off his hunger, and itching, and the fact he was starting to ache a little bit. Plus, Java was there and much less likely to judge him than his sister was. So Martin felt pretty good, not great at this point but pretty good, strolling in with his new shirt and the sort’ve confidence only he could manage. There were always cheerleaders nearby during his class, always, and lovely Louise was among them. Yes, he was down two out of three, but he still had a chance to get a date by the end of the day.

Little mind was paid to him as he walked by the rest of the mini-squad on his way to a curious Louise’s side, laying on the Mystery charm.

“So, Louise, I saw you admiring my shirt…” And immediately every one of them started giggling, which even he knew was never a good sign.

“I’ve just never seen a guy wear fuchsia before…” At least Louise was smiling at him as she said it, that was progress, right? Right? Martin blinked, beginning to second guess this decision- maybe he should’ve listened to Ivy- and smiled sheepishly at her. But before he could continue on chatting, a basketball slammed hard into his gut. He just barely caught it, flashing the girls an ‘I’m okay’ grin.

“My girl has better things to do than chat it up with you, Mystery.” And Martin heard nothing beyond that. Chip? Louise was dating Chip? Number one, since when? All of these girls had been single last he’d heard, where the fuck were these relationships coming from? Number two, why? He threw a confused look at Lil, two cheerleaders down the line. She responded with nothing but a shrug and a grimace that clearly communicated how much she didn’t approve of the matter either.

“Mystery!” Oh, yeah, person talking. “You playing ball, or what?” Martin grinned at him, cutting around him, dribbling the ball.

“With my mad skills? Step aside!”

One downside to working with the Center was that he simply didn’t have the time to devote to things like sports, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t capable. He’d always been the athletic type, and his missions were often more than enough to keep him in shape even when he wasn’t doing proper sporty things. In fact he’d once been referred to as the ultimate geek-jock fusion, and he was more than happy to show off what he could do for an audience, any audience, but especially one including girls. Lil applauded him from the sidelines as he dribbled hard, fast, and in as ostentatious a manner as was physically possible, right until the moment he got an angle wrong and sent the ball directly into his ankle.

Chip didn’t even look at him as he fell over, just snatching up the ball with a curt “you’re skins”. Rude.

“You alive, Marty?” Lil asked as Martin got back to his feet, heading back their way even as the other cheerleaders chuckled over his tumble.

“Right as rain, Lils,” he said with a smile, “gonna take more than a vicious basketball attack to stop me.”

“We’ll keep that in mind.” He blew her a raspberry and shook his head- so mean, and to him, her good friend- as he turned his back to the lot and began to shuck his shirt.

He got most of the way there before he looked down and saw a sea of orange fuzz.

Eyes blowing wide, he slammed his shirt back on and looked around erratically, suddenly horrified someone might have seen the fur covering his chest. That hadn’t been there ten minutes ago when he’d gotten changed, it just hadn’t. This was bad, this was bad bad bad-

“Java!” He was so glad his friend worked his class, he needed the security of just, having him there, and clung one-handed to his arm. “Did you see that? Did anyone see that?” Martin scanned the room again. Cheerleaders were talking amongst themselves, didn’t seem to be paying him any mind. Other boys looked like they wouldn’t have noticed if he’d died on the court. And then Java, frowning slightly at him.

“See what, Martin?” Okay. Okay, nobody noticed. Alright, that was- He quickly darted a hand under his shirt to confirm that had happened. It had. Fuck. Martin took a deep breath and tried to relax. He could handle this. He could handle this.

“Look, Jav,” he said, throwing up a laughably fake smile, “I’m not feeling so well, can I sit this class out?” Java’s frown deepened in concern, but slowly he nodded.

“Go to nurse,” he said, and Martin nodded vigorously before bolting for the door.

~~~

Things were getting worse by the minute and the nurse was the last place he planned to go. He’d gotten to watch in real time as the fur overtook his legs as he changed back into his standard clothes. His nose was getting keener and keener, with every step it felt like, which didn’t help that his stomach was rumbling again, louder and fiercer than before. The itching was getting insane, everything ached, and the world was just, too damn loud. He could hear everything, from squirrels running around to other students talking under their breath as he stalked by with a growl building in his throat.

Martin was a good ninety-percent sure what was going on. He would’ve had to be stupid not to be, and no matter what his grades said Martin Mystery was not stupid. At least, not about things like this. Attacked by a werewolf? On the night before a full moon? (It was a full moon tonight, he knew, he was one of those people who kept track of that shit.) Being beset afterwards by intense hunger? Heightened senses? Sudden fur? A turtle could’ve followed that trail.

This wasn’t good. This really wasn’t good. What was he going to do? What could he do? He’d already tried everything! There was nothing he could do with magic to stop or fix this, and he wasn’t going to the Center for help, not after what he’d seen yesterday. He was going to have to

He stepped around a corner and just barely missed being hit by a ball being tossed between two other boys. Without missing a beat he twisted around, leaping through the air to catch it in his teeth, landing on all fours on the ground with a skid that made his palms hurt. Before what he’d just done could even clock with him, he was shaking the ball with a growl.

“Um, Mystery?” When he glanced up Todd was slowly kneeling down beside him, one hand hovering near his shoulder and the other gesturing somebody behind Martin away. “You okay dude?” No, no he wasn’t, but how precisely do you explain ‘I got scratched up by a werewolf yesterday and now this’ to a civilian? You couldn’t, not without the Center having to get you out of the psych ward afterwards. Instead of a proper answer his jaw tightened around the ball and a whimper forced itself out of his throat, making him flinch with just how bad this all was. Tentatively, Todd started petting his hair.

“Um, it’s alright? Look, I sent Marcus to find, somebody…” Oh this was just getting better and better, they’d probably track down a teacher, or Diana-

“Thanks, Todd, we were looking for him.” That wasn’t Diana. The figure that ran up alongside Marcus and dropped to his side was very much Lil, followed closely by Darcy. “Marty? Buddy? Can you give Todd his ball back, we can get you inside?” He bit back another whine and forced his jaws apart, the ball plopping out into Todd’s open hand.

“Sorry man,” Darcy said as the girls helped Martin to his feet, each with a firm grip on one arm. Todd shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve had to wash worse than Martin-spit off this thing. Just, take care of him?” Their grips tightened.

“We plan to.”

~~~

“I call to order,” Sarah said, standing at the front of the meeting room, “this meeting of the Psi Psi Psi sorority and Tonio Antonelli to address the topic of- Martin Mystery, the fuck?”

This was a rare moment in which Martin did not want a crowd of girls looking at him. The entire sorority was there, plus Tonio- who they had hunted down specifically because he was the Senior Martin Specialist once he’d demanded nobody get Diana or Java involved. Java might have been safe, maybe, but if Diana figured this out she’d call MOM within four minutes. Fuck, the girls might call the Center if they found out.

“Is this a vampire thing? How worried should we be here?” Oh thank god. The vampire thing was old hat at this point, he could work with it.

“It might be?” he lied through his goddamn teeth, swallowing down a handful of peanuts from the honestly scarily large package Taylor had found him. “I don’t know. I’ve been feeling, weird, lately.”

“Uh-huh.” Tonio looked him over and for a long moment Martin remembered just how damn well he knew him, especially when his eyes flicked to Martin’s bandaged arm. “For how long?”

“Almost a week now.” Lying was good here, lying would keep him out of a cage. Yes, Tonio’s eyes narrowed at him, but he didn’t argue and that was all Martin needed. A few of a girls sighed.

“Martin,” Aria said, “you have to tell people when shit’s extra weird, or else we can’t help.” He shrugged sheepishly.

“I thought I had everything under control.”

“Uh-huh.” Ten different people at once with that one. Sarah sighed.

“Okay,” she said, “from now until we get this worked out, someone is always on Martin Duty. Keep notes, keep him from getting the cops called on him, the usual.” Wait, no, fuck again!

“Guys, it’s not necessary, I’ll just hole up in my room a bit, up my calorie intake, it’ll be fine.”

“Martin,” Tonio patted his arm with too calm an expression, hefting a book in one hand, “fetch.”

It fucking burned that as soon as the paperback went flying he did.

~~~

“Tonio, man, our rooms are connected, you don’t need to do this.”

“Yes, yes I do, because you’re a disaster.”

Martin groaned and flopped back against the pile of dirty laundry he was using as a mattress. Tonio was insisting on sleeping in his room tonight, for the sake of keeping an eye on him, and Martin wasn’t rude enough to make him sleep on the floor.

“Seriously, I’ll be sleeping, what sort’ve trouble can I get into?” What he wanted, more than anything in the world in that moment, was to not be sharing a room with one of his best friends when he surely went full werewolf. He liked Tonio too damn much to want to maul him.

“Knowing you? All of it.” Tonio stretched out on the bed, smirking at him as he reached for the last light in the room. “Just whine if you need me to escort you to a tree or something.” Martin scowled at him.

“Oh shut up.”

As Tonio laughed and that final light shut off, he pulled his blankets around him and shut his eyes, praying for an uneventful night.

~~~

Martin Mystery woke up on the floor of the Psi Psi Psi meeting room, surrounded by familiar faces.

“So, good news- it’s not vampire shit.”

“Bad news- you’re a werewolf, Martin.”

“Don’t make Harry Potter references at him, the idiot’s been through enough.”

“I sincerely doubt that.”

Martin groaned, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes like it might make all this a dream.

“Are you sure?” he asked, as if he didn’t damn well know.

“Well-” It sounded like Tonio was somewhere towards the back of the room, and that was definitely his ‘why are you my best friend?’ tone- “given I woke up… seven hours ago? to your tail in my face? We’re pretty damn sure.” He sighed. “I knew you were lying... Why do you not tell me these things? I share a suite with you, this is relevant!”

“I was scared getting people involved would make things worse!” He was. He really, really was. Those cages kept flashing in front of his eyes, alongside images of blood and bone. “Is everybody o-” As he pulled his hands away from his face, Martin noticed the long, black claws sticking out of each finger. A small, distressed noise rose in the back of his throat.

“Yeah, like we said,” Darcy said, taking a gentle hold of one of his wrists- oh, look, his wound was gone, that was terrifying- “definitely a werewolf. Claws, your ears are all pointy right now, and there is just, so much fur going on. And everyone is fine.”

“Yeah,” Maddie chimed in. “You were less Cujo and more Clifford.”

“We were all more worried about you chewing a hole in yourself than one of us,” Sarah added. “Speaking of which, do you want a flea collar? We were talking about what sort’ve supplies Diana and Java’d need to keep you healthy now and, that might be handy.”

“They aren’t going to need anything to keep me healthy.” It was a relief to know he hadn’t hurt anyone, apparently hadn’t even tried, but still. There was no way this could get out. No. “Not a word about this leaves this room.” Brows raised incredulously all around him.

“Martin,” Tonio chimed in, “speaking as your voice of reason- at the very least Diana needs to hear about this. I mean come on, are you gonna go home for the summer and just hope you never walk out of your bedroom during a full moon? Your family’s gonna have to know.” Martin shook his head, muscles tense, and lips pulling back from his teeth.

“If Diana finds out, the Center will find out. If the Center finds out, I’m going to end up in a cage.” Paige scoffed.

“Over the bodies of twenty-three girls and a Tonio you will.”

“Martin, seriously,” Darcy still had her grip on him, and clearly wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon, “we can’t be there for every full moon. You’ve gotta tell somebody.” Martin whined under his breath.

Fuck fuck fuck.

~~~

In the end they compromised. The others wouldn’t tell Diana unless directly questioned about his potential werewolfness, and he’d call his grandmother and tell her he was now at risk for canine distemper.

This was easier said than done.

“Yes, Gramma.”

“I know, but-”

“Look it’s a very recent thing-”

“Gramma telling Diana is an actual health risk here.”

“I tried that- Yes, yes, I know.”

“But Gramma, I-” Flinching, Martin nodded along and held the out the phone. “Tonio, she wants to speak to you.” The other boy took the phone as if it might bite.

“Hello, Mrs. Mystery. I’m doing fine, how about you? Oh great.” Of course, Tonio she was chill with.

“No, no, we’ve got things under control, we think. Just figured someone in his family should know about this. I mean full moons still happen over the holidays… Uh-huh.”

“Oh no, he was great, perfectly manageable, plenty of food, a few hours of fetch, and everything was fine.” Well, that was good to know at least, even if the idea that he’d played fetch made Martin pout even harder than he had been. Who knew being a werewolf could be so humiliating?

“Huh, that would explain it. Okay, I’ll let him know. Bye, ma’am. Same to you, bye.” All eyes in the room- which wasn’t that many at this point, it’d been decided that the people who’d actually gotten a decent amount of sleep should carry on as normal while the rest slept or handled this werewolf business- were locked onto Tonio as he hung up the phone. With a deep sigh, he flopped down bonelessly beside Martin.

“So, that necklace is supposed to stop the worst of the vampireness?” Martin sighed.

“That’s what they tell me.”

“Your gran thinks it should’ve stopped the werewolfness too, but since it didn’t she’s gonna call up some of your aunts and try to get a new one together that will.”

“So,” Sarah interjected, hanging off the back of a chair, “we only have to worry until they do. Then everything should go back to normal Martin weirdness, right?”

“That’s what she thinks. She wants us to keep an eye on him until then.”

“Well fuck, we were gonna do that anyway.”

On the one hand, Martin couldn’t help but notice they were talking about him like he wasn’t there, especially as they continued on. But on the other, what they were talking about was ‘our friend is a werewolf, how do we manage this without him ending up in a cage’. Everyone there had sat up last night making sure he was okay and under control. Sophia and Maddie had gotten hold of a PetSmart catalog and were arguing over what dog beds looked more comfortable.

As worrying as the situation was, his grandmother and aunts had his back and his friends, honestly, seemed just to get more awesome the more they learned about his weirdness.

And after the holy water incident he hadn’t thought they could be more chill about his shit.

~~~

The lot of them were in the middle of a discussion about collar colors- half of them, including Martin, felt red was the best option because warm colors were his thing, while Tonio was with the other half in thinking a blue collar might work to bring the color of his jeans up to balance the rest of his color scheme- when the u-watch went off. And everything immediately stopped.

It chimed.

The screen went to its pre-call static.

Darcy wrenched the watch off Martin’s wrist and yeeted it across the room.

They all watched in silence as it ricocheted off the back wall, hit the floor, and bounced into the darkness under a desk. After a brief moment, the space was illuminated, and MOM’s voice rang out.

“Martin? Agent Mystery, where are you? Answer me!” A brief pause. “Goddamnit…” And the screen went dark again.

Silence reigned for several seconds more, three sets of arms wrapped protectively around Martin, Tonio’s hand clamped onto his arm. Slowly, everyone turned to Darcy.

“What? I panicked!” Martin released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, the others following his lead.

“Fingers crossed, she just thinks I’m slacking off.” Lil nodded against his shoulder.

“Fingers crossed.”

~~~

“Bad news, everybody,” Hannah said as she stormed purposefully into the meeting room, waking up two girls and Tonio in the process.

“Because we haven’t had enough of that lately…” She threw the short blond a sharp look, then turned her attention back to the room at large.

“Chip’s dead-”

“Well, that makes my life easier.”

“Lillian!” Lil doubled down, arms crossed and back straight.

“He was a piece of shit.”

“Louise is a mess!”

“She’ll live, better off without him anyway.”

“Okay,” Sophia said, stepping between them with hands raised, “can we stay on topic? What happened, Hannah?” Shutting the door behind her, Hannah walked across the room to hover casually and worryingly protectively around Martin.

“What was left of him was found around the other side of the building this morning, in the bushes. Everyone’s talking like it was some sort’ve animal attack.”

Martin’s gut fell clean out of him, eyes blowing wide. There weren’t animals at Torrington large enough to take out a teenage boy. They weren’t even allowed cats for fuck’s sake, nonetheless anything that could leave ‘what’s left’ of anything bigger or badder than a pizza. All there was was- And he’d been at odds with Chip, sort’ve, just yesterday-

“Oh no, don’t you start with that look!” There was a light thwop against the back of his head and when he turned to look there was Tessa, with a firm, no-nonsense expression. “You’ve been alone for ten minutes out of the last eighteen hours, that is not long enough to break out of a locked room, find a jock, eat him, clean yourself up, break back in, and lock the doors or windows or whatever behind you.”

“I could if I wanted to,” Martin countered on pure instinct, baring his teeth at the thought he couldn’t do damn well anything if he wanted.

“Yeah,” Tonio said, tone flat and as unimpressed as everyone’s expressions, “maybe if you were a were-cheetah.”

“The point is,” Hannah said, laying a hand on Martin’s shoulder, “we know you didn’t kill him, but, we don’t know what did. And until that thing is caught, anyone who finds out about you is gonna see you as the prime suspect.” Hackles raised around the room at the thought.

“Okay everybody,” Sarah said, glaring at nothing in particular, “sounds like we’ve got more and more shit to worry about.”

~~~

Another meeting was called for that afternoon.

Nobody was really sure how they were going to handle the ‘strange beast eating schoolmates’ situation. They couldn’t even agree on if they should. Several of the girls were of the opinion that they should just leave well enough alone, it probably was some animal that made its way onto campus and it was better to let the professionals deal with it. Others felt it was better to know for sure- find out what it was that attacked Chip and then decide whether or not to be worried.

Martin had enough of an instinct for his work to know it wasn’t going to be some animal. That was the sort’ve thing Diana would suggest, and she was rarely right when his gut said ‘supernatural’. He might be wrong, but she wouldn’t be right.

“I’d put my life savings on this being the sort’ve thing the Center should get involved with,” he said, slumped down in his chair at the head of the room with the rest of the council, idly scratching his arm.

“Even if it is,” Ivy countered, “we’d still have to get involved. You’re the Center employee here, we aren’t leaving you alone, and you don’t want your sister or Java involved.” He hated a lot of things, but mostly that she was right. Whatever was going on he could probably handle it alone, but nobody was going to let him. Maybe Diana and Java would handle it, but the idea of not being there to help them made him queasy. Or maybe that was the hunger again. Just in case he tore open another bag of Fritos.

“I’m just saying, guys, I can handle it. Give me like, two hours-”

“I’m sorry, did we not already have this argument yesterday?”

“Yesterday a guy wasn’t dead!”

A knock rang from the door before Sarah could answer. Again, the room went quiet. Another knock.

“I know you all are in there,” Diana called from the other side, “we need to talk to Martin!” Goddamnit. This was the problem with getting your whole damn social group together in the usual place, you were too easy to find. Martin swore to find them all a new meeting room, in a different country if he could swing it. In this moment though, everyone in the room shared a look before Darcy stood and cracked the door.

“Martin isn’t here.” Bless that girl.

“You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie?”

“You’re already Martin’s friend, who knows how much lower you’d sink.”

“Hey!” The affront on Tonio’s face at that, as Martin’s oldest friend, was golden.

“Tonio’s here, Martin’s here, let us in.”

“No.”

“Darcy, please.” Logically Java, who Martin had no doubt was also out in the hall, would’ve been able to open the door with ease. He was, he had to assume, just too kind-natured to risk hurting or scaring her. “Think he might be sick.”

“He’s fine.”

“Listen-” Wait, was that Billy? That sounded like Billy. Fuck. “-this is going to be hard to believe, but we think he might be a werewolf-”

“Yeah, we know, either that or he’s possessed by a golden retriever. It’s all under control, goodbye.” As everyone inside struggled to not laugh or throw something at her, Darcy closed the door. Or, at least she tried to. The door stopped before it could click shut, and despite her best attempts creaked open enough for Java, a disguised Billy, and a very affronted Diana to force their ways in.

“You know?!”

“Well yeah,” Darcy responded, holding her ground between them and the others, “he was chasing balls out front yesterday, it’s not exactly rocket science.” Diana gaped for a moment, the boys waving behind her in an attempt at being friendly, before craning to glower at her brother over Darcy’s shoulder.

“Martin! What the fuck! You tell them but not us?!” He licked barbeque flavoring from his claws and waved.

“Hey guys. Um, nothing to worry about? Gramma’s working on keeping me from going all, furry.”

“-er.”

“Shut up, Ivy.” If anything Diana glared harder.

“You told Gramma, and not me!”

“Well Gramma doesn’t have a direct line to the Center, now does she?” Tessa reached out and grabbed Darcy’s arm, slowly pulling her back into the seats as Billy and Java edged towards the front of the room.

“Martin,” Billy said, “you really should head back to the Center-”

“And end up in one of those cages?” Martin tensed at the very thought and when he did everyone did for one reason or another. A few of the girls half-rose from their seats, eyes on his team and on Billy. “Yeah, no. We have everything under control here and Gramma’s working on keeping me from changing. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Nobody’s going to put you in a cage, Martin,” Billy said, hands raised placatingly. “If anything you’ll be killed alongside the rest of us.” Wait what? Jaw going slack, Martin’s face twisted into a confused grimace. “The werewolf that turned you escaped yesterday, as per protocol we had to call Security Chief Jones back in from her vacation and after looking over the footage she’s angrier than I’ve seen a person in years. You’re dead, I’m dead, MOM, the Assistant Security Chief, Head of Maintenance… If any of your friends here want work at the Center, we’re about to have a lot of openings.”

It took a minute for that to sink in. Normally he’d take such a threat with a major grain of salt, but if there was anyone working for the Center he would count on to follow through… That was honestly kind of scary. Thankfully other people were paying attention for him, namely Sarah, who was the one to pipe up with a-

“What do you mean ‘escaped’?”

“Oh, yeah,” Billy said, apparently so caught up in his imminent demise he’d forgotten, “that’s why MOM was looking for Martin. And because he hadn’t finished his cleaning-”

“In my defense I did get attacked by a werewolf.”

“-but mostly because he’s the one who caught it last time and we were worried it might hold a grudge.” The room went quiet again as everyone let this sink in. The other werewolf was loose, it may or may not be out for Martin’s blood, if it was, then it was probably heading for or already at

“Well,” Tessa said, “at least we know what probably killed Chip.” Java sighed, some tension leaving his shoulders.

“Am glad not Martin.”

“No, no,” Tonio said, “you haven’t seen wolfy-Martin, he wouldn’t take out a bacon cheeseburger.”

“I am right here.”

“We know.”

“But if the werewolf is after Martin,” Diana asked, “why would it kill Chip?”

“Because he was an asshole?”

“Stop it, Lil. Was probably just hungry. After all, it’s not like it had Darcy there feeding it jerky.”

“By the way, thanks Darc.”

“No problem, Marty.”

“Okay,” Sarah raised a hand for silence as she spoke, motioning the newcomers to take a seat with the others, “so, we know the extent of the werewolf problem. Now,” she looked directly at Billy, “what more can you tell us?”

The ‘having them sit’ thing turned out to be useless, because the moment Billy pulled out the werewolf’s file everybody was out of their seats again, crowding around him for a better look. It had everything. Height, weight, preferred diet, blood type, known history, Martin’s report on the mission during which he’d captured it. Even a photo, which got a lot of ‘huh’s from the crowd.

“That looks, nothing like you did, Martin.”

“Really?” he and Diana asked as one. Lil nodded.

“Yeah, you looked a lot more humanoid. Like, blatantly very canine, but not nearly as much as that guy. And you were fluffier. And more colorful.”

“You think maybe the vampire thing has something to do with it?” Tonio asked, and Diana glared at Martin again.

“They know about the vampires too?!”

“Look, after the holy water incident I had to come clean with some stuff.”

“What holy water incident?!”

“The one where Darcy dumped some holy water on his head as part of an in-joke and he started smoking.” It was a rare and, in Martin’s mind, beautiful moment where Diana had no words. She just gaped at him, eyes wide. He shrugged.

“I’d rather not talk about it. Whatcha thinking, Tonio?”

“I’m thinking,” Tonio leaned back as he spoke, “maybe you’re not becoming a werewolf like one that because you’ve already got the vampire blood going on. Maybe werewolves that are vampires or are gonna be vampires are a different type, and that’s why you’re fluffy and colorful. Or maybe that necklace of yours is working on it, just not entirely. So you’re only half-turning.”

“Gramma’d be glad to hear that,” Diana said, “it would probably give her less work to do.” Martin nodded along to that, it would, it really would, but Java shook his head.

“But not help with phantom werewolf,” he said, and he was right. If that thing was eating people, and looking for Martin, then they had to recapture it. And hopefully find someplace more humane to put it. Maybe Martin could gain survival points with Jones if he puppy-eyed for the werewolf’s well-being… But first.

“Well, I did catch it once,” he said, standing tall and grinning toothily around the room, “and that was in way worse circumstances, this’ll be a breeze.”

“Worse than on a high school campus while you yourself are transforming into a vicious beast?”

“He wishes.”

“Shut up, Tessa.” Martin’s grin widened as he aimed it at Billy, who shifted away slightly at the sight of sharp teeth. “Of course! Last time I was inexperienced, human, and only had half a clue what I’d gotten into. This time I’ve got people behind me, I’m a fucking werewolf, know exactly what I’m dealing with, and, I have time to plan.” He stretched, rolling his shoulders. “Who wants to help catch a monster?”

All around the room hands went up. Not all of them, but that didn’t matter when every face in the room held a confident expression. Everyone here trusted him, and whether they were willing to help with this specifically or not- it was a dangerous event to be involved in after all, even if he didn’t plan for any of them to be in harm’s way- they all had his back.

He’d known there was a reason he liked all these people.

~~~

In the end fifteen extra people- including Tonio- made light work, and preparations were complete well before the sun finished setting. Which left plenty of time to argue about who would be involved in the actual ‘werewolf capture’ portion of the event. And it was an argument. Too many people wanted to be involved with that. In the end they managed to pare it down to just Lil- who could not be deterred and made the compelling argument that she was the most hardcore athlete present so she was fairly certain she could handle whatever Martin and Diana could- alongside Diana and Java, with Martin acting as bait and- at his own insistence- the only one on the ground.

That had been an entirely different argument, but he’d won it with logic and empathy and forward-thinking and Diana damn well better have been proud of him.

So it was that, as the moon rose over the rooftops, he found himself standing alone at the edge of the campus. He could feel more of the wolf coming over him, just as he had the day before. Aches, hunger, heightened senses, that itching that was still fucking going. Martin chewed at one hand as he paced, face shifting into a short muzzle, tail growing through the hole Jessica’d cut in his pants and boxers earlier. Even if the other wolf somehow wasn’t after him, which he doubted, it was certain to find him, and that was all they needed to set things in motion. For it to take any sort’ve interest.

The damn thing took another hour, it’s scent rousing Martin from a potato chip-induced half-sleep before it came within sight. Setting his spine, he climbed back to his feet and let out a howl. One graciously answered.

“That’s it, buddy, come get me…” He stood tense, waiting, waiting, until the snarling form of the phantom wolf slipped out of the deeper shadows. Why it was showing itself, Martin didn’t know, but he certainly wasn’t about to complain. It came closer, he moved back, closer, back, rinse, repeat, until finally the tension in the air broke and the beast leapt with a roar.

Martin ran.

Through the grass, vault a shrub, it was on his heels, longer legs serving it well, up a path, under one of the larger trees-

There was a yelp as the werewolf followed him.

With a sharp grin, literally, Martin spun on his heels to face his foe. Java and the girls grinned back at him from up in the foliage, and beneath them- one very colorful werewolf.

“And now you can’t do your phantom thing.” Phase one, complete. Phase two, a go.

The werewolf charged him again and this time Martin stood his ground, grabbing it by the shoulders and twisting as it went for his throat. Together they hit the ground, a mass of fur and claws and teeth. The goal, as Martin wrestled with it, was to get it subdued enough that the others could bind the thing. Originally they’d been going for a net, which would’ve left the dye and paint they dumped over it unnecessary and kept this whole fight much shorter, but preliminary testing had proven Martin could shred it easily and they were going off the assumption the other wolf could do the same.

Thankfully, Martin considered as a lucky bite got lost in his mane, he was a lot better protected than last time.

With a snap, a snarl, a familiar kick to the gut, the werewolf broke out of his hold and darted back to give itself space. Which also gave Martin time to get hold of the x-rod, quarterstaff style. Having a weapon couldn’t hurt. Besides, this way he could smack it from a distance and there was feeling deep in his soul that was satisfying about smacking something coming at him with a stick.

Now that he thought about it, this was probably the instinct called upon during the invention of baseball.

One sharp crack stunned the wolf, sending it to the ground, and Martin sprinted to pin it. Not that he was quite fast enough, by the time he reached it it had enough sense back to try for another bite, one hastily blocked with his staff. And so, with jaws around his weapon, Martin did one better.

A staff pressed against the back of it’s jaw held the wolf’s head to the ground, Martin’s weight on it’s middle kept it from maneuvering. At first, the wolf tried to swipte at him, but his own thick fur and clothing made it a waste of time. The best it could do was try to lift the staff like a barbell in a bid to even the odds back up, and even that was an attempt that wouldn’t last long. Now they didn’t have to worry about the teeth, Java, Diana, and Lil jumped down from the tree and came to Martin’s aid- each swaddled in a painful number of layers for safety’s sake.

Java grabbed the wolf’s forearms and carefully pulled it’s hands from the quarterstaff, pinning them above it’s head so the girls could tie them with a length of wire carefully covered with cloth and cotton for safety. This was repeated, with even more care, with it’s flailing legs. Then, while Java held the legs and Lil held the arms, Diana pulled out one of Tonio’s belts (“Nothing deserves to be bound in anything of Martin’s”) and wrapped it loosely around the wolf’s muzzle. Carefully, carefully, she tightened it as Martin pulled the staff away, like the world’s most dangerous game of Jenga, before yanking it tight the instant the staff was clear.

Thoroughly bound, gagged, and pinned, there was nothing of consequence the phantom werewolf could do. Martin patted it’s head consolingly.

“Don’t worry, dude, we gonna make sure you’re kept in better conditions this time.”

~~~

Two months passed and thankfully nobody died, though several did lose their jobs, and even MOM walked on eggshells for a few weeks. Plans to improve conditions in the cages were rushed through the approval process, though the phantom werewolf would never see them. That one had been transferred to another facility with nicer cells that also was plenty far away from Martin.

He’d gone through two more full moon cycles since being turned, none of which had resulted in any harm to any individual. At least, not any harm that put them at risk of turning. Getting knocked over by an enthusiastic werewolf was not a big threat. As it was he’d spent those nights out in the forests behind Torrington or locked up in the meeting room, always with someone to look after him, often with a ball to chase and snacks to eat. It was actually kind of fun, now that he was getting used to it. But nothing lasts forever, and amount of the shaving and nail clipping he was having to do to maintain his cover was really crimping his style. It would’ve crimped Diana’s style.

“Hold still, Martin!”

“If you’d hurry up I wouldn’t have to!”

“Do you want this to stay on?” Diana demanded, aiming an knee to the small of his back, “then sit still!” The new necklace their grandmother had sent was… tighter than the last one. More of a choker than anything. Supposedly to make sure it stayed in place, as if Martin had ever had a problem with keeping it on before. He supposed it probably had something to do with how often he got transformed into things, especially lately. This was supposed to make sure he didn’t turn into any more supernatural creatures before his time, or give into any of the relevant urges, and if it didn’t work she was probably going to come up and ward him personally.

Again.

“There, finally! How many ways to close a necklace are there, and how did Gramma find them all?”

“I’m not sure I want to know,” Martin replied. Before his eyes his claws were receding, and he could feel the hunger dying down. He turned to grin at his sister. “Thanks, Di.”

“No problem.” She brushed her hands off and sat back on his bed. “It’s going to be nice to have the, well, comparatively normal you back.” He laughed and scooted back himself, throwing an arm over her shoulders.

“Tell me about it. If I never wake up with a ball in my mouth again it’ll be too soon.”

#fanfic #martin mystery #achi does commissions #commissions #commissionwork

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