#I love the way you rendered Ribbon's skirt

[goldyeokki]

𝟏𝟎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ¹⁸⁺

꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓: lee donghyuck, huang renjun, mark lee, osaki shotaro, jung sungchan, uchinaga eri (giselle), ning yi zhuo (ningning)

꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄𝐒: pure crack, a pinch of angst, fluff, smut ꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: you and lee donghyuck both get along like oil and water. if it were up to you, you would be going about your days without even breathing in his direction. unfortunately you're in the same friend group and you have to tolerate each other. as handsome or attractive as people claim him to be, you hate his guts. there's so many reasons why you hate him, so why do you get butterflies in your stomach when he's near?

꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 35.5k (i'm so sorry) ꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: [NOT 100% PROOFREAD] social media elements; uni au; enemies to lovers; lots of plot before the porn; semi-slow burn; lots of flashbacks in first half; reader is in denial half the damn time; hyuck is a self-sacrificial idiot; love triangle (?); renhyuck crumbs; sungtaro forever neos; mc is emotionally constipated; mc wears a skirt and makeup; mc is canon attracted to both men and women; bad ex!song mingi; consumption of alcohol; mentions of weed and vapes / unprotected sex; big dick!hyuck; brief mean dom!hyuck; praise; possessiveness; choking; edging; overstimulation; clit spanking; multiple orgasms; mating press; if i missed out any i apologise

꒰ 💬 ꒱ 𝐇𝐔𝐀'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: the first installation of before the last flower blooms is finally out! happy belated birthday to our fullsun hyuck, and i hope everyone enjoys this fic as much as i did when i wrote it (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) a lot of blood, sweat and tears were put into this i think i lost a bit of my sanity ngl

have you ever taken a look at someone and been filled with a compelling urge to shove their smug face into a hot, steaming pile of crap?

that’s how you feel whenever lee donghyuck breathes in your direction.

you would think that being in a big friend group would discourage any feelings of animosity between one another. unfortunately, that is not the case for you and someone whom you want to call your mortal enemy. but it would be a stretch to say that. you have a rather complex relationship with donghyuck.

for the longest time, you’ve both hated each other’s guts yet due to your shared friend group, you’ve learned to tolerate each other and be civil when the time calls for it. sometimes you’re both as thick as thieves, being the culprits for harmless little pranks that your friends often become the unwilling victims of. he is a notorious flirt who can and will flirt with anything that breathes. your friend group (especially renjun and mark) are victims too but when it comes to you, he knows exactly what to say to make your heart skip a beat or render you speechless. you’re convinced that he’s doing it to toy around with you because you’ve never seen him in a relationship, be it casual or serious, for as long as you’ve known him.

but when it’s just the both of you, there are moments when he’ll strip away that obnoxious—dare you say, façade—and you can simply exist. he won’t pick on you like he usually would. sometimes even in the presence of other people, he’ll still actively look out for you. if you could describe his behaviour around you in one word, it’ll be confusing. he edges you and drags you around with a ribbon you don’t recall him ever tying on you and it gets so frustrating when he gets the last laugh.

he’s a massive pain in the ass for sure but there is one thing that you can admit: he doesn’t strike you to be the kind of person who would be malicious to others without reason. you just hate personalities like him.

he’s always strutting around like a proud peacock, acting like he knows something nobody else in the room does. he always finds a way to get under your skin—be it sidling up to you and telling you stupid things with your friend group around or teasing you when it’s just the both of you—but you’d rather be buried six feet under than admit your life would be less entertaining without him around.

you don’t know why lee donghyuck hates you, but of all the reasons that you hate him, you have a hot ten list that he routinely reminds you of every waking second of your life.

#10: EVEN WHEN HE’S QUIET, HE’S STILL THE LOUDEST PERSON IN THE ROOM

there was a party at his fraternity just a couple of months ago. you were the first to arrive along with giselle since class ended early and you weren’t exactly in the mood to study. mark was the one who bribed you both with the promise of bubble tea so of course you didn’t want to disappoint. you came to the conclusion that he didn’t want the first few strings of people to come in and see a party full of testosterone. he had always been thoughtful like that and you’ve admired him for it. it’s no surprise that he’s so well-liked everywhere he goes.

when you arrived, donghyuck was nowhere to be found. it was only mark, renjun, and some others you don’t fully recognise lugging the beer kegs around. both you and giselle offered to help and they gave you towers of plastic cups to plant at every corner of the fraternity possible.

“it feels weirdly quiet without him. i don’t like it.” giselle mumbled just loud enough for you to hear. she was stacking a few more cups on the foldable table that leaned up against the stairs with fruit punch and rows of canned drinks for anyone who didn’t want to drink alcohol. of all the frat houses that you’ve been to, the one that cared most about their partygoers was the alpha neo frat.

you didn’t want to admit it, but she was right. even when there’s music playing through the speakers at a volume loud enough for you to feel the bass in your bones, it’s eerily quiet without his presence. it felt like you were in a horror movie waiting for the killer to surprise you.

“don’t summon the devil, babe.” you chuckled through your nose. you heard her giggle quietly from where she stood and then there was silence.

an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of your stomach, like the calm before the storm.

from where you were in the kitchen, you had the perfect view of the entrance to the door. you nursed your bubble tea and chewed on the paper straw. it was beginning to get soggy and you were starting to get annoyed. how the hell were you going to chew on the tapioca balls now?

something told you that he was going to appear in a couple of seconds. you kept your eyes on the door, biding your time as you patiently waited for the man of the hour to arrive. at least he had never been tardy.

the front door suddenly threw open. the corners of your lips crack a soft smile. right when you had predicted.

“I’M HERE, PARTY PEO– ah? it’s just you guys . . .”

lee donghyuck came barrelling in with sungchan and shotaro in tow, all carrying more cheap beer. he first spotted giselle and immediately grinned before he made his way over to greet her with bear hugs. “giselle, our pretty girl!” he practically yelled for the whole house to hear. you’re almost sure that the walls were trembling from his voice.

“hi, y/n!” shotaro and sungchan were the first to spot you as you emerged from the kitchen to help them with the beer cans. you waved back at the duo. when you reached for the pack in sungchan’s hands, he raised them above both your heads and you raised an eyebrow. “this one isn’t for the party, it’s for us to start the party.”

“yeah, we figured the frat already got more than enough for half the campus and then some,” shotaro mused. well, they’re not wrong. with an amused laugh, you gestured to the kitchen.

“alright, let’s keep them cool in the fridge first while we wait for the rest of the gang to come in.”

shortly after the remainder of your friend group had arrived, everyone gathered in a circle in the living room with a beer can in hand. some force in the universe had placed you in between donghyuck and renjun—two best friends with absolutely opposite personalities. damn, your luck was shit.

everyone took their time (see: a quick five seconds) to get ready to shotgun their beer before the party started. you weren’t exactly the best at it but you weren’t going to ask the loser on your right to help out. when you struggled to punch a hole, donghyuck quietly took your can and passed you his freshly punched one with a sigh of faux annoyance.

“c’mon, y/n. we shotgun beers every time we party!” he complained out loud which naturally gathered a few pairs of eyes to land on you both. you wanted to be embarrassed but you’re too occupied processing the fact that he had performed a selfless act . . . of sorts. you rolled your eyes and glared at him when he attempted to give you a tutorial on how to punch a hole in a beer can. “this is how you do it, babe. if you can’t do it, you can always ask for the handsome and charming hyuckie to help you out!” ooh, you really want to sock his stupidly handsome face that very moment.

wait. handsome? no. he’s not handsome. he’s attractive, yeah, but not to you.

fuck. keep it together, dude.

“shut up, it’s not like i do this every other day unlike you, dumbass!” your brows creased and you were tempted to smack the back of his head but you held yourself back. instead, you simply scoffed and attempted to look away.

“just take my can, since i’m your greatest friend in the whole wide world and you looooove me.” donghyuck made it a point to quite literally push his face close to yours. in the dim multi-coloured lighting of the common space you’ve all gathered at, the glint of his lip ring caught your eye. ever since he had gotten that lip ring a few months ago, you’ve been guilty of staring at it every once in a while. but it’s not like you wanted to! it’s right there. it was right in your face, how could you not stare?!

you sharply turned your head and shoved him away to put some distance between your bodies. he’s such a sneaky brat.

“no you’re not, suck my dick.” you rolled your shoulders back and looked at giselle who stood across you in the circle. she only gave you a pointed look and winked flirtatiously, which very quickly made an amused smile appear on your face.

“okay, okay, are we gonna start or are you two going to keep bickering?” renjun voiced out what everyone else was most likely thinking. you assumed that donghyuck was batting his eyelashes at him or probably doing something weird with his face. “don’t give me that look, donghyuck.”

“it’s my lucky handsome look on my lucky handsome face.” he countered. his best friend sighed quietly through his nose.

“anyway.” you pressed, side-eyeing the smug bastard and forcing the shotgun session to begin.

“this is our final year, kinda started a while back but, whatever.” you began, then looked at sungchan, mark, and ningning who were conveniently lined up next to each other. you smiled softly at the trio. “except for you three. mark started grad school already and our babies ning and channie are still in junior year.”

the fond nicknames rolled off your tongue easily for the two younger members of the friend group. hushed giggles and chuckles lingered in the air, almost with a bittersweet note. everyone knew what it meant for you and the rest of the group. as much as it pained for you to say it, you really don’t want this little ragtag team of weirdos to disband when the bulk of you graduate. renjun is still pursuing grad school afterwards so at least he and mark will still have each other but it’s so up in the air for everyone else. despite it all, you know that your love and bond with one another are strong enough to lead you all back to each other.

“we’ll catch up. just wait for us.” sungchan raised his beer can to you. before you can continue, you were interrupted by none other than—

“(nickname) this is too sad, i’m taking over.” donghyuck cleared his throat obnoxiously and bumped his hip against yours as if telling you to move aside. you exhaled through your nose, hearing renjun quietly snicker to your left as you shifted your position accordingly. “first party of the alpha neo frat, let’s have tons of fun and get shitfaced drunk!”

when everyone was about to cheer in agreement, shotaro cleared his throat so obnoxiously that you feared he was going to cough up his larynx. donghyuck blinked and looked at the male.

“. . . within reason because we have classes tomorrow?” he attempted once again, unsure and obviously not a big fan of the responsible idea. shotaro nodded with a bright, satisfied smile, eyes forming half-crescents as he did. donghyuck whined out loud and began his little complaining rant. “taro, you’re no fun. the uni experience is to walk into 9ams with a hangover and–”

“can’t hear you, we’re shotgunning!” ningning announced and raised her can to her lips. laughter echoed throughout, filling up the space of the common room and also your heart. mark followed suit, cheering before he did, and some of the golden liquid dripped past his lips as he downed his drink.

everyone was putting their beer cans up to follow and you felt compelled to face your side. you looked to your right to meet donghyuck’s gaze. had he been waiting for you? almost always you end up right next to each other during pre-party shotguns and almost always he would offer to shotgun together. you don’t understand why but you couldn’t care enough to want to figure out why.

he raised his can slightly. he didn’t say a single word but you could hear him asking if you wanted to shotgun your beers together. the corners of his lips curled upwards into a hopeful yet cheeky grin, but not before swathing his tongue across his bottom lip. your eye caught the saliva-stained gleam on his lip ring once again and you had to force yourself to drag your gaze back up to his eyes. you really needed to give renjun an earful for dragging him along to the piercing studio.

you nodded and gave him back a sincere smile. the both of you raised your beer cans, bodies facing each other. his eyes were fixed on you and you could feel some form of disturbance in your stomach. why did you feel a little nervous? you met his gaze and lifted your can to your lips, him mirroring your actions. in shared silence, while everyone cheered and celebrated in the background, you shotgunned your drinks together as your eyes were locked on each other.

you’re brought back to the present thanks to a rather violent sneeze that came from your left. you turn to look at giselle who’s wrapped up in a thick blanket. her cheeks and nose are a bright scarlet, eyes watery as she glares at her laptop while furiously typing away.

it’s a busy period for the entire student body. just like everyone, you’re swamped with deadlines and projects. you have a milestone check with your professors for three of your classes in the upcoming week, an exam in two, and a group project to consolidate before its submission that same week.

what you’re looking forward to is the four-week semester break that comes right after. you’re not too big on parties but some cheap beer, messy making out with a hot stranger with alcohol and music buzzing through your veins sounds like the perfect celebration after the stressful weeks that came before.

as a journalism student, you doubt giselle is able to catch that much of a break. you remember her complaining to you about her workload a couple of nights ago. her head was on your lap as you stroked her hair while listening to her. apparently, on top of writing an article, she has a group assignment worth 70% of her grade that requires the entire group to produce a video news story. although she was assigned to a team with no freeloaders, everyone’s ideas keep clashing which is causing a lot of stress and pressure on her as the designated team leader.

“gigi, are you sure you want to continue studying?” shotaro quietly whispers, very clearly concerned. he’s only wearing a t-shirt since he had already given her his hoodie, but anyone can tell he’s ready to run back to his dorm to grab another layer for her if she needs it.

“yeah gi, you look really sick.” you echo his sentiments, tucking locks of your hair behind your ears to get a better look at her. there’s a seat between you two, occupied by your bags and unused books. you lean closer to her over the seat and press the back of your index and middle finger against her neck. she doesn’t feel hot, but she does feel a bit warm. unsatisfied with the results you’d gotten, you press the same fingers against her temple. only then do you feel her temperature rise. “giselle babe, you should rest. you’re burning up a little.”

“don’t worry about me, guys,” she manages a weak smile. she sounds so nasally and you resist the urge to sigh but shotaro doesn’t. “i promise i’m okay. it’s just a bit of a sinus.”

“are you sure?” you cock an eyebrow upward, withdrawing yourself back from her.

“i am, i promise.”

everyone leaves it at that. you’re back to dedicating your attention to your laptop to focus on studying but you very quickly find that you’re unable to.

you feel a prickling sensation—like somebody is staring intently at you, watching your every move like a hawk—and it sends goosebumps rippling all over your arms and the back of your neck. you peel your attention from your screen and let your eyes glaze over the table.

sungchan is buried nose-deep in his arsenal of open textbooks surrounding his laptop, preparing for his mock bar exam that’s coming up in a couple of weeks. the poor law student has the toughest professors and you really feel bad for him. shotaro sits next to him, calmly reading through a biology textbook as he highlights and annotates the text. you’ve always noticed how colourful his learning materials are, flagged with multicoloured tabs at the sides. mark has his eyes glued to his laptop as he types away, headphones blocking out any noise that could tamper with his concentration. ningning is sifting through sheets of notes that look like they came straight from those aesthetic study youtubers you’ve come across online, most likely questioning why on earth she decided to major in psychology.

your gaze finally lands on lee donghyuck.

he has his laptop in front of him, and a notebook on his right. he has notes scribbled down and taking up half the page but his pen is nowhere to be found. you drag your eyes to his face where he’s already looking back at you with that stupid grin of his. the shine of his lip ring underneath the library’s fluorescent lights almost winks at you at the same time he does.

frankly, you don’t understand it at all. you cannot wrap your head around how even in a place where quietude is sacred, he’s the loudest man in the room without even opening that damn mouth of his.

he picks up his phone and begins to type furiously into it. your phone vibrates violently on the desk. should you be curious about what he just sent you? you grab your phone and eye him suspiciously.

of course. of course he would send that.

#9: THE WORST OF HIS INAPPROPRIATE COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS DIRECTED AT YOU

you would do anything to figure out why you’re his victim. he does throw inappropriate comments at others, especially the males in your friend group, but he seems to refuse to err on the side of caution with you. does he forget that you’re both at each other’s throats? you’re sure he doesn’t since you constantly threaten him (albeit, emptily most of the time) in response to his behaviour.

whenever you walk in medium-to-large-sized groups, you find yourself—no—you find donghyuck always gravitating towards wherever you are. you’re often found in the back to make sure nobody gets left behind and sometimes it works out when he ends up on the tail with you. since he has a megaphone for a throat, you’re able to utilise him if there are any issues if he hasn’t already alerted the group.

the problem lies wherein he tends to forget where he is when immersed in a conversation.

countless times there had to be someone to grab him and yank him back into the group because he was straying a little too far or he was somehow caught in a conversation with the person across the street.

“aww, my pancake is so thoughtful!” that is his go-to line when it’s renjun who fishes him back in, followed by a harassment of kisses all over the poor boy’s neck and face, and back hugs.

“is this the part where i call you hyung?” due to mark having a more westernised outlook when it comes to formalities, nobody in the group really calls for him with honorifics. donghyuck likes to abuse that and seize the opportunity in moments like that to make the poor grad student flustered.

“taro, i love you! i know you love me too, what you did is evidence of your undying love for me!” his victim shotaro tends to get tackled, thankfully not to the ground, and you remember having to be the one to pull them both in because a car was coming from the rear.

but you? oh, you’re getting it way worse than any of those combined.

there was once when he was walking backwards while talking your ear off about one of his professors who keeps ignoring his contributions while he’s in class. sungchan and giselle were walking ahead on the walking path, discussing schoolwork since she had some questions to ask him. dear donghyuck on the other hand was on the road, taking advantage of the fact that it was nighttime and there were no vehicles nearby. you tried really hard not to pay attention to him but his voice was too loud to drain out. you really wonder how renjun does it.

a motorcycle sped past. and then another. both of the vehicles maintained a safe distance from him but you weren’t sure about the one further back. the car was coming in close at an almost dangerous speed.

“hyuck.” you warned him sternly, reaching out for him but he’s moving his arms around too wildly and too absorbed in his conversation to notice.

“–and then he just ignored me! like, hello? i have–“

“hyuck.” the car’s getting closer. you’d really hate for this one to get into a car crash. as much as it would most likely be reimbursed since you’re nearby campus grounds, your friend group kinda needs him.

“–i’m a good student! i don’t know why he does it! is it out of spite? does he hate me? does he–“

“god fucking damn it, donghyuck!” pissed off and scared beyond your wits, you quickly grabbed him and violently yanked him onto the walking path. everything happened a little too quickly for your own liking. you don’t know how his reaction time struck faster with you than the damn car.

when he almost tripped over the slight elevation from the road onto the walking path, his weight sent you both crashing down. he wrapped his arms around your waist and quickly flipped your position to cushion your fall and you ended up on top of him instead of the other way round.

the car zoomed past and you heard the echoes of giselle and sungchan running back to catch up to you both. they sounded so distant, though.

you’re hovering above donghyuck, shellshocked as your brain tried to process what the fuck just happened but you’re more focused on the equally stunned expression on his face. his deep onyx eyes searched yours for any semblance of hurt.

you felt his hands gently massage your waist in an attempt to calm you down and you were thankful because it was working but you’re not going to admit that to him. you swear your heart stopped at that moment. it felt impossible to tear your gaze away from him—soft brown hair dishevelled, fear and panic in his eyes, tongue nervously swathing over his bottom lip to coat his lip ring in a thin coat of saliva—he looked . . . vulnerable. unlike how you’d always see him, all cocky and strutting around like he owned the place.

“y/n?” your name came from his mouth in the ghost of a whisper, almost melodic, but you barely registered it until you felt another pair of hands on your arm to pull you up.

“oh my god, y/n, are you okay?!” giselle helped you onto your feet while sungchan helped him out. her soft fingers cupped your face and your gaze was redirected to her. “that driver is so stupid, do they want to die?! ah, seriously . . .”

“yeah, i’m okay. just . . . just a bit shocked.” you nodded, not wanting to worry her at all. her brows creased in concern and you had to give her the best smile you could muster. your fingers wrapped around her wrists and squeezed them gently. “i’ll be okay, i promise. we should check in on hyuck, though.”

you both turn to look at sungchan who was being dramatically hugged by donghyuck. the taller of the two looked at you, silently asking if you were okay and you confirmed it with a nod. you didn’t think it was a situation that was too life-endangering but it was enough to leave you terrified for a while.

when you’ve all finally calmed down, you continue your journey back to the dorms on campus. donghyuck fell into stride with you but he made sure to walk on the path this time, protecting you from the road. he gently bumped his hip against yours to get your attention. giselle and sungchan were back to talking about defamation and lawsuits a few steps ahead of you so you just tuned them out. you’d probably fall asleep if you heard any more.

“you okay?” he mumbled just loud enough for you to hear.

“mhm. you?” you wanted to say that he’s uncharacteristically quiet but you couldn’t exactly blame him.

“i am.” he left it at that for a heartbeat before he draped his arm over your shoulder. and so it began. he sidled up close to you with that annoying grin on his face you wished you could wipe off. “y/n, i didn’t think you were so passionate about me!” his free hand raised to ruffle your hair and god, you really wanted to push him down face-first onto the pavement.

“shut up, dumbass.” you groan when he quite literally pressed your cheeks together, squeezing your shoulders in an exaggerated form of affection.

“ah, y/n, i know i’m super handsome and my charm is sooo irresistible but you can’t fall in love with me! it’s not your brand, y’know.” he continued his onslaught of . . . whatever the fuck he was doing. giselle and sungchan turned to look over their shoulders to make sure that you were both okay. you met their eyes and they chuckled in amusement before they resumed their conversation.

“i think you shouldn’t worry about them too much.” sungchan teased but donghyuck simply pretended that he didn’t hear him.

“you wanna die, is that it?” you scoffed through your nose in disbelief. how the hell was he so quick with such comments? you shoved his arm off of your shoulders and took the opportunity to elbow him in the side. you didn’t even hit him that hard but the dramatic actor in him keeled over while crying to the heavens how you’re being so brash and brutal to him. “you got a death wish, you bastard? why the hell would i want to be with someone as annoying as you?”

“i have my redeeming qualities! i’m the best cook out of all of us! mark can’t even fry eggs!”

“don’t bring mark into this! i swear, i will push you into a river right now.” you’re not mad. why would you be mad? you were just a little ticked off. why would he insinuate that you were going to have feelings for him? he’s such a fucking rascal. you have standards, for fuck’s sake.

donghyuck was back to walking properly and he crossed his arms across his chest, licking his lips and cocking an eyebrow upward as if challenging you.

“oh yeah? if you want to see me all wet, y/n, i can definitely arrange a private show for you.”

an image of him soaked from head to toe, grinning childishly at you as he stood in the rain flashed in your brain. his cotton shirt stuck to his body like a second skin, hair was flat as he walked up to you with that stupid look on his face. you’d never really noticed how sharp his jawline was until you watched the raindrops easily slide down to his chin and onto the ground. nor had you ever really noticed that even though he wasn’t as built as that guy jeno in your class, he still had a decent physique with his toned biceps, chest, and stomach.

your cheeks burned when you realised you had been staring at him all along when that memory made itself present in your mind. defeated and very obviously at a loss for words, you flipped him off.

sometimes you wonder if he just says these kinds of things just to watch you get ticked off. ever since you first met, it has been non-stop terrorising. it doesn’t even matter if you’re alone or in the presence of other people.

you quickly type your response and send it but before you can put your phone down, he’s replying with more to piss you off. you silently scoff through your nose and lift your gaze to him only to find him—yet again—staring back at you.

your heart stopped for a brief second when your brain finally processed his text. he’s always throwing such things your way without warning and you don’t even get a second to answer before he’s moving on.

you would do anything to be able to chuck your phone at his head right now. but given the circumstances, you would all get banned from the library for causing a huge ruckus.

this isn’t the first nor will it be the last time he’s going to say shit like this to you.

immediately you’re yet again reminded of a similar incident that happened a few days earlier.

it’s not like you were dressed up more than usual. you were just trying a different style than usual and it involved more revealing clothing. said clothing was just a strapped black lace bustier top. everything else that you wore matched the top and was relatively normal.

giselle and ningning were obviously supportive of you trying something new, even going the extra mile to go to thrift stores with you after class and hunting shopping spaces online for the right piece. naturally, you modelled for them through facetime before you headed for class and their encouragement gave you more than enough confidence to leave your dorm.

 you held your head a little higher than usual, and your steps more confident as you went about your day. your classes ended around noon, and usually, you would meet up with sungchan and giselle to have lunch before studying a bit. you weren’t waiting for compliments from anyone nor did you need any but of course, lee donghyuck had to put himself out there and get underneath your skin.

he was most likely on his way to his frat house. sometimes you’d bump into him if you were unlucky. he knew better than anyone not to sneak up on you from behind (especially after halloween in freshman year) but you’d rather have him do that than yell your name for the entire campus to hear. he’s like a malevolent spirit in the guise of an attractive man-child who thinks fart jokes are funny.

“y/n, are you ignoring me?” he whined out loud and it gained the attention of some passersby who looked towards your direction in brief curiosity or annoyance. he called your name again as he caught up with you before he threw his arm over your shoulders. you have never known if it’s a habit or if he had been doing it on purpose to get under your skin.

“what do you want, hyuck?” you deadpanned, turning your head slightly to look at him while walking. he easily fell into stride with you—as if it’s an action as natural as breathing—and surveys you from head to toe. his silence speaks a thousand words at maximum volume and now you’re suddenly self-conscious.

he walked a couple of steps ahead of you while facing you. his hand gently grabbed onto your forearm, as if he was guiding you somewhere. your brows creased in visible confusion.

“y/n.” he called out your name so sweetly that it almost threw you off-guard. you nodded at him to tell him to continue. for a moment, he didn’t. his dark eyes glazed all over your figure from head to toe, tongue swiping over his lips. the sun’s rays got caught on his silver lip ring and it shone brightly enough to capture your attention for a split second.

he was wearing a maroon button-up shirt with the buttons undone halfway down to reveal the silver cross necklace that always hung loosely around his chest. you would be lying if you said he didn’t look good. he’s attractive and he knows how to highlight his best features.

his eyes finally met yours and truthfully, nothing could have prepared you for what he said next.

“you look really fucking good.” the corners of his lips tugged upwards into a playful, cocky smirk. he winked at you and blew an air kiss before turning his back onto you and walking off. you were frozen in place as he continued his journey to wherever the fuck he was supposed to be. he raised his arm to wave at you but not once did he look back. “see ya for movie night tonight, babe!”

remembering that particular incident had your cheeks burning against your will. forcing yourself back to the present, you rake a hand through your hair and look down at your phone to find new texts from him.

you don’t know if you want to crawl onto the table and choke him or just leave him on read. although the first option sounds great, you know that he would probably pin you down faster than you’d like.

as much as you would hate to admit that he is right, you’ve all been holed up in the library for quite some time. giselle isn’t getting any healthier nor are any of you going to get any more productive. you lick your lips and sigh through your nose. there’s no way around it—everyone needs to stop studying.

#8: LEE DONGHYUCK GETS HIS WAY MORE OFTEN THAN YOU CARE TO ADMIT

you’re not going to lose this fight. there has been one too many times where he gets his way. half the time, he’s whining and using what he calls his ‘undying charm’ against the entire group to get them to bend to his will. that ‘undying charm’ is him using aegyo of all things.

renjun would do anything to get him to stop doing it and it often means giving in against his wishes. sungchan simply enjoys watching donghyuck humiliate himself. shotaro is often torn between liking it and hating it but you don’t blame the guy one bit. mark loves it because he finds it cute for some reason. giselle doesn’t really care for it. ningning films it all for blackmail, but given how he pretty much enjoys doing it, she now vows to convert the footage into meme packs for the group’s perusal.

you’re on the same boat as renjun except you’re not willing to bend and break so the hellspawn can reign supreme.

donghyuck is staring at you yet again, batting his eyelashes and pouting as he shimmies his shoulders slightly. you stare back in mild disgust. he points his chin to the rest of the group, pouting yet again at you and you can hear him whine and beg for you to be the one to suggest stopping.

then, you hear some faint thudding of sneakers against the carpeted library floors. is he stomping his feet?!

when you pretend to drop a pen so that you can see his feet, he’s unabashedly stomping them like a child being refused a new toy. picking up your pen, you rise back into your proper seated position. you’re convinced he’s a man on a mission to get you to break. so far, out of everyone else, you’re the one with the highest success rate of not letting him get his way.

renjun isn’t part of your study session for the day since he had to work with his team members so you’re the only person standing against lee donghyuck’s constant need to be pampered.

you’re not that easily bribed but you’re not sure if you want to count this as a win, either.

donghyuck looks at you with his face aghast as though he just saw a ghost walk right behind you. you simply shrug lamely. if he wants to eat and stop the group study since it’s barely productive for anyone anymore, then he’s the one who says it. you have a feeling that he doesn’t want to be the one to put a halt to the session since sungchan was the one who suggested it. as soft and gentle-looking as the towering man is, he’s dead serious when it comes to studying.

you hear a creak of the wooden study chair before a pen clattering onto a thick book, followed by a soft groan of defeat. your gaze quickly flits over to ningning who is leaning back and balancing her chair on its two hind legs.

“i don’t wanna study anymooooore!” she complains loud enough for the table to hear.

“ning!” shotaro hushes her with a whisper but there’s a wave of relief that washes over him when he realised he’s not the only one done with studying. he gently taps mark’s shoulder and you half-expected the grad student to not notice. mark immediately removes his headphones and blinks, looking at the table like a deer caught in the headlights. “you okay to stop? we’re all kinda brain dead and giselle’s about halfway to becoming one of the zombies from train to busan.”

“am not.” giselle gruffly protests before blowing her nose as quietly as she possibly can.

“yeah, i’ve been vibing to my music since an hour ago.” mark bashfully admits as he hooks his headphones around his neck.

“traitor.” donghyuck huffs.

“let’s pack up and send gigi back to her dorm.” you suggest, already closing your textbooks and laptop. some of the gang (namely giselle, ningning and sungchan) still need to return the library books they used so you took your time. “her dorm room is the biggest out of all of ours so we can just order food and stay with her til she gets knocked out from the cough syrup.”

“that sounds like an amazing idea, y/n.” you gingerly look over at the man who was begging for you to speak first minutes ago. he’s grinning widely at you and wiggling his eyebrows. of course, he got saved by ningning. or was it you who got saved by her?

you pick up your phone and quickly text him.

when you pocket your phone, you don’t even attempt to be subtle as you flipped him off openly. in a childlike fashion, he reciprocates the action.

you help giselle with the books she borrowed and make sure she didn’t get any of her gunk on the poor pages. she looks like a kicked puppy as she cleans up her side of the study desk, tying up the plastic bag that ningning gave her to throw all of her used tissues. you can always count on the psychology student to be ready with the weirdest shit. if you need a hairdryer at that very moment, you’re 70% sure she can provide you with one immediately.

after the large study desk has been cleaned and sanitised, you make your way to leave the library in complete silence. sungchan and shotaro are up ahead while ningning walks closely behind with giselle. that leaves you in the back with mark and your oh-so-beloved donghyuck.

your eyes take some time to adjust to seeing the night sky. you entered the library around two in the blazing afternoon and it’s now seven in the evening with the sun nowhere in sight. everyone is finally out of the suffocating building and you’re able to get a breath of fresh air.

“i want fried chicken!” donghyuck suddenly screams into the night. since you’re right next to him, the sudden announcement startled you to the point you nearly tripped over your own two feet. his voice echoes in the distance for the rest of the universe to hear. maybe aliens will hear his call and abduct him.

“jesus christ, dude.” mark punches his shoulder at the same time ningning whips around to kick him for scaring her.

“you idiot, don’t go around yelling without warning them!” she starts to smack him for a good minute while he whines about the ‘pain’, knowing full well she has the combined strength of two doughnuts.

“i just wanted fried chicken!”

“eat my fists instead, jackass!”

so the both of them continue for a little while longer until ningning finally gets exhausted from exerting the last of her energy. instead of doing anything to stop her, everyone just watches with smiles on their faces. sungchan cheers her on, and shotaro has his phone out filming the whole thing.

you catch his eye and raise an eyebrow.

“for the memories,” he smiles sweetly, eyes forming half-crescents. you want to believe him but you know damn well he can be as big of a troublemaker as donghyuck.

“okay, yeah, now i’m down for some fried chicken.” ningning casually announces after her attempt at beating donghyuck up into a pulp. he stands up straight, stroking his ‘sore’ arm after spending the last couple of minutes bent over. “no fried chicken for gi, though. only warm soup.”

“ugh, you suck.” giselle groans and creates a bigger distance between the both of them by walking sideways but ningning drags her back. the younger girl wraps her arm around giselle’s and sidles up to her lovingly. “i still hate you, ning.”

“you love me.” she dreamily sighs.

everyone falls back in step to make your shared journey to giselle’s dorm before getting dinner.

you’re not sure what had come over donghyuck but he mirrored ningning’s affection with both you and mark, sandwiching himself between both your bodies.

“dude if you scream again without warning–“ mark begins but he immediately gets interrupted.

“i won’t, i promise!” he childishly tries to win the other’s favour. you know that it's a battle that was lost before it even started because the grad student is weirdly weak to donghyuck’s aegyo. “i’ll be a good boy, markie.”

you turn to look at him with an expression of very obvious disgust. when he takes notice, he turns to you and gently bumps his hip against yours.

“is y/n feeling a little neglected? does widdle (nickname) want some lovin’?” he tries to lean in to snuggle into your neck.

“stop it, you’re so gross!” you try your best to push him away but the hold he has on you is firm. you don’t even notice that he had unlinked his arm from mark’s and he’s tickling you to try and get a reaction. you’re not that ticklish but you’re sure that you’re laughing out loud at the absurdity of the situation.

“oh my god, it’s been years since i’ve heard y/n laugh like this.” you hear sungchan exaggerate in the distance. giselle sneezes out loud (enough for her to jump in her spot) and you assume it’s her way of agreeing.

when donghyuck is finally satisfied with his aggression, he breaks away from you with a wide grin. you take a second to catch your breath, huffing as you glare at him.

he’s bathed in the moonlight and fluorescent lights from the street lamps as he walks smugly. you want to be mad at him but you can’t. or maybe you’re not. it feels good to be able to release pent-up energy within you but you’re not exactly happy that it’s him of all people that’s making you laugh. his eyes glint mischievously and so does the silver ring that perches near the corner of his plump lips.

“you’re still gross.” you deadpan.

“say what you waaant,” he drags the last syllable in a sing-song voice. god, you really hate it when he says it like that. you want to choke him for it but you’re sure he’s going to enjoy it. “still made you laugh.” he shrugs, the smug grin not once leaving his face.

you shove him away and stick close to mark instead, who welcomes you with a hearty laugh and a head pat.

all of you arrive safely at her dorm ten minutes later and place your belongings by her study desk. she makes a beeline for her bed before flopping into it, sliding out of her furry indoor slides and burrowing herself underneath the covers. ningning makes herself at home and lies down next to giselle whose incoherent grumbling barely reaches the other girl’s ears. nobody is a stranger to her spacious dorm—it’s the go-to place for hangouts when you’re all too lazy or tired to spend time outdoors.

while everyone settles down in the open space between her bed and study desk, you make your way to the small kitchen to make her some warm honey lemon tea. you don’t remember where you got it from but you’ve always drank honey lemon tea whenever you fell sick. at times when you take care of your sick friends, you always make the drink, even for the worst of them all. there’s a buzz from your phone in your back pocket.

“since when did we order the food already?” you say out loud, free hand grabbing a mug from the dish rack.

“mark texted him while we were walking.” sungchan pops in to grab a canned drink from the fridge. he notices you and the mug you’ve taken and immediately picks up on what’s happening. he grabs something from inside and passes you a half-lemon protected by a beeswax wrap before leaving without another word.

you think nothing of it, sliding your phone into your back pocket so you can continue making the drink. you grab the jar of honey that she keeps in the wall cabinet and upon placing it down on the counter in front of you, you stare at it. one of the reasons why you hate it when any of them are sick is the honey. you will almost always have trouble opening up the jar and closing it properly because half the time, you’re making the tea after a shift at work or some heavy studying.

doesn’t hurt to try, though.

you brace as much strength as possible from your exhausted body and do your best to unscrew the airtight lid. you’re too lazy to boil some water and let the jar sit for like, ten minutes, so using sheer brute force is all that you have left in you.

“tsk, c’mere.” someone’s voice rumbles gently in their chest from behind you. they grab the jar from you and you turn to find donghyuck. within the blink of an eye, the lid pops open and you barely miss the way his biceps bulge under his loose-fitting shirt and the veins that run along his forearms making an appearance. “you could’ve asked someone for help.”

“yeah, yeah.” you wave him off dismissively. he’s the second person to reach into the fridge to grab a drink before he disappears back into the living room, where the main party and one sick person is.

by the time you’re done preparing giselle’s tea, renjun had also arrived with everyone’s dinner. you bring both her tea and samgyetang to her so she can eat with the rest of the group. ningning has since moved to the floor to join everyone so you decide to accompany the ill.

“thanks for the food, ren-jeon!” donghyuck calls out while the chicken gets distributed. shotaro had disappeared into the kitchen to grab the paper plates so chaos reigned for a short while underneath giselle’s roof.

“just for that, you owe me ten dollars for service and delivery fees.” the duo-toned male flips him off.

“what?!” he cries incredulously.

“i take both cash and bank transfers,” renjun states flatly as he makes himself comfortable in the circle. shotaro returns with a stack of paper plates and paper cups to a scene of donghyuck throwing yet another tantrum.

“i wonder when hyuck will ever beat the bratty bottom allegations.” sungchan quietly (not really) comments and it’s more than enough to send the entire dorm into flames.

everyone is shouting and donghyuck is, well, whining, which doesn’t really do anything to help him. not positively, at least. you sit down next to giselle and find sungchan smiling to himself amid the noise.

“guys!” shotaro is torn between laughing and taming everyone down. mark is taking everything in with a huge smile on his face while smacking a very unbothered but smug renjun. “oh my god. sungchan, what have you done?” he mumbles in pure terror.

“everyone shut up before her RA comes in to complain! you know her RA is the worst.” you feel a little bad but you’re laughing too, so you help shotaro with the damage control. your words are more than enough to get the rowdy bunch to quiet down and you puff your chest slightly in pride.

whenever you hang out at giselle’s dorm as a huge group like this, it tends to be risky but since more than half of you are in your graduating year, you don’t really care. 

“y/n my saviour!” donghyuck springs from his spot and prances over to you, pulling you into a crushing hug and burying his face into your neck. your heart immediately starts racing a mile a minute. your ears suddenly burn and your throat runs a tad bit too dry at the sudden action. this stupidly natural reaction to skin contact with him always has you barely feeling dizzy at the end of it. you don’t know why, but you hate it. it doesn’t happen with anyone else.

“okay, stop, you know i’m allergic to you.” you gently form some distance between both of your bodies. he huffs in protest but releases you regardless.

you find yourself a seat next to mark with your back against the leg of giselle’s study desk. shotaro and renjun are sitting close to the foot of her bed, while donghyuck sits in front of her bedside table. sungchan sits on the other side of mark, which leaves ningning space between giselle’s thighs since she’s sitting upright on the edge of her mattress.

the last thing you expect is having complaints about exams and assignments as the conversation topic.

almost everyone is studying in different disciplines. ningning studies psychology, giselle studies journalism, sungchan is a law student, renjun and shotaro both study biomedical science, mark studies music, and donghyuck is a computer science student. the boys are all in the same fraternity—alpha neo—and you met the girls through freshman orientation. ningning and giselle came from the same high school so they had already been friends when you first met.

you’re lost in the bubbles of conversation that break away from the main topic, indulging whenever someone asks you something (“y/n, you have prof. moon, right?”) or needs your confirmation (“that ta jaehyun is hot. am i right or am i right?”) on something.

“sungchan, after your mock bar exam, let’s host the biggest party ever.” donghyuck suddenly announces for the whole room to hear. there are some hums and nods of agreement but you’re frowning slightly, mulling it over. he seems to have noticed and quickly adds: “channie’s mock bar is the final exam and nobody else has anything due after the date, right?”

you think long and hard for an answer when it’s already in front of you—no.

“i don’t see why not.” renjun is the first to pipe up and agree. “it’s the end of exam season, we’re letting the summer pass, and then we’re graduating. a pre-celebration of celebrations, if you wanna look at it like that.”

“you’re not wrong,” you twist your lips to the side, nodding. it’s not like you’re going to have to worry about a lot of things after sungchan’s mock bar exam. your summer internship has been contracted so you wouldn’t be entirely jobless the whole time. there’s a couple of weeks’ worth of a window between the day after his mock bar exam and the day your internship begins.

“how big are we talking? if you’re talking cheap beer, you gotta up your game.” ningning takes a sip of her coke.

“we’ll get soju! vodka! we have a running tradition in the alpha neo frat where seniors every year will put money in a safe spot for the incoming seniors to use.” you aren’t at all too impressed or reassured with the explanation that donghyuck had just given you. you cock an unimpressed eyebrow upward at him to make sure he knows it. he catches your eyes and purses his lips in a thin line, glaring at you. “i know we have a lot because i’ve lifted the box before and it’s heavy. no sound of coins, either.”

“oh yeah, i make sure to put in a portion every time i get my paycheque from work.” mark chimes in as a matter of factly. “i don’t think i’ve contributed the most, but i’ve definitely contributed.”

the whole room erupts into a cacophony of “aww!”s and “that’s so sweet!”s, praising the grad student for his selfless deed. it’s obvious that he’s not used to all of the attention so he’s just shyly grinning and hiding his face behind his hands. even you can’t help but coo at how adorable he is when he becomes bashful like this.

“we’re gonna be able to have the best party ever thanks to mark!” shotaro claps his hands in joy.

“i mean, it’s not because of me—” mark begins, only to be interrupted by a very excited donghyuck.

“let’s make sure it’s the biggest party we’ve ever thrown!” 

a loud, violent sneeze rips through the room and everyone turns to look at giselle. ningning slowly and gingerly moves towards sungchan and renjun instead.

“how about we make sure that gigi doesn’t die first?”

⠀⠀ ⠀⌒⠀ִ ✧ ﾟ 𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 

a few days after that, you find yourself in the campus library yet again. this time, you’re alone in a small cubicle to focus on studying. the last time you studied there, it was pure chaos and of course, it’s all thanks to donghyuck.

a thick book full of material related to your course of study is open right next to your laptop. translucent sticky notes are all over its pages, highlighting important keywords and scribbled-down annotations that would help you recall concepts better. your shoulders are straining after subconsciously curving your spine and turning yourself into a shrimp for the entire forty-five minutes that you were studying. you’ve decided to take a quick fifteen-minute break since you’ve been studying for about three hours in total already. 

you roll your shoulders back and get up from your seat to do some quick stretches and relax your body. you’re thankful that you are lucky enough to be able to get this secluded corner in your campus’ busy library. while you’re cornered in and hidden by rows of clean, white bookshelves, you have the perfect view of everyone and anyone who’s on the level beneath you. unfortunately, that also means you’re able to see people doing anything other than studying.

like the girl that’s trying to trap a helpless jeno against a bookshelf. it feels rude to look but sometimes you do enjoy just watching humans be in their natural element. you spot someone else coming in and interrupting the girl from whatever she’s trying to do. curious, you stop stretching and lean in to get a better look.

jeno instinctively reaches out to this person and immediately pulls them flush to his side, even going the extra mile to press a kiss to the person’s temple. a few words are being exchanged, the girl appears to be apologetic and then she walks away. jeno and this mysterious person hug it out but there’s no mistaking the hearts in his eyes as they talk in hushed whispers. when they’re leaving, you notice that they’re practically attached to the hip that it’s a little difficult to see if they’re holding hands or not.

you smile quietly to yourself. jeno’s in the same frat as donghyuck so you know that donghyuck would most likely be up-to-date with all of the happenings with all the frat members. you don’t have a say in it but there are times when he will suddenly blow up your phone with the latest gossip that he’s heard of. you hate it when he does it because not only does it distract you from whatever you’re doing but you end up wanting to hear more because your friend group is too wholesome and full of healthy relationships for any drama.

#7: HE LOVES GOSSIP WAY TOO MUCH

you’re about to return to your station and study when there’s a violent series of buzzes in your back pocket. there’s only one person on this godforsaken planet who wouldn’t be afraid of spam-texting you and it’s none other than lee donghyuck.

you watch your message go from ‘delivered’ to ‘read’, but there’s not a single sign of life from him. did he suddenly fall off the face of earth and die? did aliens appear out of thin air and abduct him? you frown at your text messages with him, scrolling up to your past texts then scrolling back down, half-expecting to see the three dots pop up but there’s none. whatever, he’s probably crossing the road or something.

you return to your seat in your little study corner, ready to continue your productive streak when your phone starts buzzing again. the screen lights up and you see donghyuck’s caller id appear on your screen. you know better than to reject his call so you slide the answer button across and bring your phone to your ear. as soon as your line connects, he’s whisper-yelling your name into your ear.

“you’re not in the library with me, you don’t have to say my name like that, jackass.” you balance your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you reorganise your notes aimlessly, hands itching for something to do as you talk to him.

“how else do you want me to say your name?” he scoffs in disbelief that you had chosen to start the conversation with that. “would you rather i say your name like this?” it’s followed by him lowering his voice as he calls your name, rasp evident and a quiet, teasing chuckle punctuating it. shivers rush down your spine in a quick, teasing flash and your stomach flutters nervously as you blink at your laptop screen, the words swimming aimlessly in your vision.

“don’t do that ever again.” you do your best to deadpan him but your breath hitched just before you had spoken. your voice had definitely betrayed you back there and you’re just glad he didn’t relish in that opportunity to openly embarrass you.

“or what? you’re gonna fall for me?” you can hear him smirk through the line with the light huff at the end. ticked off from his provocation you glare at your laptop screen as if it’s him. you grab your phone and change its position to your other ear as your free hand digs through your bed for your airpods.

“not even for a million dollars.” the words taste bitter on your tongue. why do they? you finally find it at the bottom of the bag and fish it out, quickly plugging your ears. they ding at the successful connection and his voice quickly comes through.

“i didn’t think i’d be worth at least a million to you, babe.” he purrs which unleashes another set of flutters in your stomach and uneasy throbs of your heart. he better be glad you’re not within arm’s length because you’d be throwing hands immediately.

“god, just shut up already. you said you had the juiciest news or something?” you grumble, urging him to change the subject. you prop your phone up against your half-empty water bottle just in case he chooses to switch to video out of nowhere. there are one too many times of that happening while you’re in the middle of a call with him.

“oh, fuck. yes, right! okay, so, remember that really hot TA, jung jaehyun?” he begins with a tremble of excitement lacing his words. you mumble a quiet, “uhuh,” in return as you take a look at your notes to see where you’d last left off. “he made out with a freshman and apparently they got pretty deep into third base.”

“if making out is first base, isn’t third base pretty much fucking?” your question slips from your lips before you can even help yourself and you can hear him scoff incredulously at you on the other side of the line.

“no, my dear y/n. the first base is light kissing. the second base is when you start making out. third base is making out with over-the-clothes action, maybe a little bit of dry-humping . . .” he starts explaining as if you’re someone who’s just entering the world of physical intimacy with another person. “do you need me to teach you or something? i’m free right now if you catch my drift.” you don’t need to see him to know that he’s obnoxiously winking and licking his lips at you.

“suck my dick, hyuck.” you sigh, rolling your eyes. where did you stop again? you swear you noted something down somewhere in the book. regardless, you urge him to continue. “the story? what’s wrong with him making out with a freshman? it’s practically a rite of passage, i made out with this guy who went by ten and another senior then. i can’t remember their name, though.”

“wait, ten? he’s the guy that’s an apprentice at the piercing and tattoo store renjun always goes to!” he gasps. “hold on.” you hear donghyuck struggling on the phone, hands probably busy as he focuses on whatever obstacle he’s facing. your eyes return to your since-abandoned study session. you’ve studied for a little over four hours and you deserve at least a couple hours’ break before you continue. right? yeah. yeah, that sounds good. “i’m home! renjunnie, are we gonna order food?” he most likely has his airpods in too because boy, is he fucking loud. you had to lower your volume so your eardrums wouldn’t rupture.

“do you have fucking trumpets for lungs?” you hiss in slight pain while you start packing up. he giggles out an apology that you know he doesn’t mean at all.

“okay, get ready for the shock factor. ready?” his footsteps are heavy as he races up the carpeted stairs to get to the room that he shares with renjun in the frat house. you made a non-committal noise that tells him to continue while you peel off the translucent sticky notes you’ve used on the pages of the library book. you’d be damned if the library staff found your notes and countless question marks and ‘what the fuck’s written next to paragraphs. you absent-mindedly reach for your bottle, pocketing your phone and taking a sip of water. “the freshman is the prof’s niece.”

why did your brain choose to make you do that at that very moment?

his words take you by complete surprise and you’re choking on the water as it runs down the wrong pipe. your eyes search your laptop and the library books you’ve used for the day and you heave a sigh of relief when nothing is damaged. you want to berate him for not warning you. who the hell says ‘shock factor’ anymore and why did you take a sip of your water?

“oh my god, are you okay?!” you can tell he’s torn between laughing and being concerned for you but he ends up choosing to do the former. your fingers close into a fist and you repeatedly thump it firmly against your chest, coughing and clearing your throat until it doesn’t feel like you just got waterboarded. “y/n, you good?” it’s his turn to cough too but from laughing too hard.

you really ought to get him for this one but it was kind of your fault that you decided to drink water right then and there. whatever—you can blame him still. he doesn’t have to know.

“lee donghyuck, what the fuck?” you want to be mad at him, you genuinely do, but you can’t.

every time he drags you in to gossip about something he’s heard of because a friend of a friend of a friend told them some juicy rumour, you end up getting immersed because of his weirdly captivating storytelling skills. you hate to admit it but even he can spin paint drying into something thrilling and interesting. sometimes he reminds you of the aunties and grandmothers in your family coming together to talk in hushed whispers about things that are happening with their children. you’re confident he’ll fit right in with them.

you’ll always get distracted from whatever you’re doing. you’d be lying straight through your teeth if you said he didn’t have a nice voice. he has a lovely one and you know he’s got some good lungs when you have karaoke nights. you remember everyone being surprised when donghyuck and renjun first sang properly for everyone.

wait, why are you thinking about his voice?

“i’m serious! it’s the niece! i even stalked that professor’s facebook!” you stare at the glass wall in front of you, deadpan at his confession. he sounds so proud of it, too.

“why on earth would you do that?”

“in my digital literacy class, i learned to always fact-check before disseminating information because fake news easily goes rampant–”

“my god, just shut up. forget i asked.”

“now, why on earth would i do that?” he’s smirking to himself—this one you’re sure of—and he’s probably puffing his chest out, too. suddenly you hear a voice in the background that sounds distinctly like renjun’s. “huh? i’m talking to y/n. wait, you have a shift today? can you bring back the chocolate croissant for me pleaaaaase? please, junie, pleaaase?”

“you’re so annoying, help the business out and buy it instead of taking the leftovers!” renjun scolds him but you know that he will be bringing back that croissant for donghyuck if there’s any.

“tell renjun to have a good shift at work,” you quickly pipe up with a quiet grunt as you lug the heavy book to return it where you found it.

“don’t tell me what to do!” he retorts childishly. in a sweeter voice, he goes, “have a good shift at work renjunnie!” you roll your eyes in annoyance.

“thanks, y/n. hope your study session was productive.” renjun’s voice is right in your ears and you hum positively in reply. you find the nearest book return cart first before the right bookshelf so you carefully put it in there.

in the background, you hear some back-and-forth bickering and you hear jeno’s name perk up in the conversation. you don’t really know him that well since he tends to keep to himself and he has his own friend group.

finally, the phone is back in its owner’s possession.

“okay, hi, i’m back. did you miss me?” he coos into your ears and you have to physically resist the urge to punch something as a substitute for his stupid face.

“i didn’t even notice that you’d left.” you close your laptop and slide it into its sleeve before packing it into your bag.

“ugh,” he groans. “i have an exam tomorrow and i lost my calculator.” as you leave the library, you frown slightly at his statement. this is going to build up to something. he’s going to ask to borrow your calculator, you’re sure of it. you have one lying around because your field of study doesn’t exactly require frequent usage of it and your upcoming exams and assignments don’t need it.

“then get a new one,” you lamely suggest. if the word ‘borrow’ even leaves your lips, he’s going to ask you for the calculator. you already know he’s going to ask anyway but you’re just trying to minimise the chances of him doing so. if possible.

“for an exam? it’s not cost-effective!” donghyuck whines in your ears and you roll your eyes. the automatic doors slide open and you walk past jeno and the same person who had saved him earlier.

“neither is losing your calculator a day before your exam.” you retort with a scoff through your nose. although they were ahead of you until you took over, you managed to catch a glimpse of their fingers brushing against each other, itching to hold the other’s hand. right before you sped up, they intertwined their fingers and you can’t help but smile to yourself. that’s cute.

“c’mon, just lend me yours! i know you have one!”

#6: HE BORROWS THINGS AND NEVER RETURNS THEM

you’re not the only victim of never getting your things returned to you. he’s borrowed a lot of things from a lot of people and you doubt he’s returned over half of the items.

back in freshman year when some of you hung out in your dorm, he asked what made your room smell so good. you wanted to say that you were acquaintances back then but given how comfortable he was with riling you up, you figured you were past that already.

your dorm wasn’t the biggest nor was it the smallest but it was enough to host renjun, mark, donghyuck, giselle, and yourself for the time being. you don’t even remember why the hell this particular combination of people was in your dorm.

what you do remember was mark ripping the nastiest fart by accident since he had been skipping meals and finally had proper food earlier that day after everyone had literally dragged him to the nearest kfc to eat something with everyone else.

you had to open the windows and your door to let the air circulate. honestly, you half-hoped that someone would walk past the dorm and smell the toxins that had been unleashed. mark was, of course, extremely embarrassed to the point where he was laughing his ass off while donghyuck and renjun made fun of him. you grabbed a dainty glass bottle that can be easily mistaken for perfume and quickly spritzed every single corner of your dorm until it smelled like apricots, tangerine and vanilla.

“whoa, that smells so good!” donghyuck was the first to make a comment on the scent of your air freshener. “may i?” gone are the days when he used to ask politely for things. now, he just whines, begs, and acts cute until he gets his way. you handed him the bottle and he read the labels and everything in curiosity, surveying it like it was the finest item that had ever graced his hands.

you had let him be and checked in on mark to make sure that his soul wasn’t going to ascend into the heavens out of embarrassment. within minutes, donghyuck was asking if he could borrow it to test for his own room. out of the goodness of your own heart, of course, you said yes. it’s safe to say that you had to buy a new bottle a couple of weeks after that because the one you let him borrow never saw the light of the next day.

in hindsight, you probably should have taken that as a precautionary tale or even a lesson. even though he isn’t the best at returning the things he borrows, at least he pays back what he owes when it comes to money. maybe that’s why you lent him that vintage corduroy jacket that you thrifted and made the excuse that he looked good in it and that it was too big for you.

“so can i?” donghyuck’s voice pulls you back to the present. you don’t have any upcoming exams or assessments that require you to use the calculator so it’s practically just collecting dust. if it were someone else asking you, you’d give in with no hesitation. since it’s the one person on this godforsaken earth who likes to mess with your head, you need to seize the opportunity and ask for something in return. “pretty pleaaasseee? my bestest friend in the whole wide world?”

“ouch, imagine if renjun heard that.”

“he’ll live.” you hear a soft thump from his end and you assume that he had fallen back on his pillow dramatically. “c’mon, y/n, please? i’ll do anything!” then he begins to start chanting ‘please’ quickly enough to make you cringe.

every time you think that he cannot possibly get even more annoying, he proves you wrong when you least expect it. at times like this is when his brain truly astounds you.

you start to tune out his incessant mantra that turns into white noise. since it’s two in the afternoon, you’re headed to the canteen to have a slightly late lunch before you head back to your dorm. the entire campus seems oddly empty but you know you can attribute it to a majority of the students mugging in the library or off-campus for their field projects.

“y/n! are you listening to me?” you snap your attention back to him and blink distractedly like it’ll help you focus on him.

“what? i stopped when you started being extra annoying.” the kiosk for purchasing your meal ticket appears and you make your way over with a light spring in your step.

“i said i’ll buy you a meal in exchange after your exam tomorrow . . .” your brows furrow slightly when he sounds pouty. this is where the tricky part comes in—there are some very special cases when he’ll tug at your heartstrings and get you to break when he sounds desperate and pathetic enough. as your finger hovers over the purchase button, you start to find difficulty in moving on.

“i want that curry katsu rice from hongdae.” the corners of your lips upturn in a proud smile as you finally buy your meal ticket and grab the small slip of paper.

“what?! i don’t have a car, we can’t drive there!”

“there’s a car rental service and it costs like, eight bucks per hour. hongdae’s a half-hour drive with good traffic. you can rent a car for two hours, three hours maximum and make it back in time. my exam ends at 11 am and yours at 10:45 am so i don’t see the problem. you’re still paying less by buying me food than buying a brand new calculator.”

silence falls on his side of the line and you know you’ve hit the jackpot. you grab a tray and start picking out the side dishes that you want with your rice as you wait for his response. you quickly thank the canteen staff and find a seat amongst the sea of empty tables. it’s so eerily empty that you feel like you’re in a ghost town illuminated by fluorescent lights.

“fine, you win. i’ll let you know if i can rent a car.” he grumbles.

even as you eat lunch, you’re both talking about anything that you possibly can as if you’re a pair of friends who haven’t spoken to each other in five years. you wonder if it’s the stress of exams and assignments wearing you down because you find yourself letting yourself go around him. you’re able to laugh freely, throw insults at him, and forget about how taxing university can be for the graduating cohorts.

after you’re done eating and returning your tray to its designated area, you’re still talking to donghyuck. you don’t want to admit it out loud to him but he does have a nice voice. soothing, even. you prefer to listen to him when he’s not whining or making annoying sounds with his mouth. he is most definitely a guy with great humour, and he’s thoughtful and polite when he wants to be.

he accompanies you through the phone as you make your way back to your dorm, talking about how renjun keeps getting distracted by some guitarist in a store while he works. the few times he visited his best friend at work, apparently he kept staring out the floor-to-ceiling glass walls as if waiting for someone to appear. then he’s complaining about how jeno refuses to admit to this person that he’s known since freshman year that he’s in love with them. so that’s who the mystery person is. you don’t personally know them nor have you met them but you’re sure that he has good taste.

finally, you’re back in the sweet confines of your dorm and it’s the same second that your airpods begin to breathe its last few breaths. thanks to donghyuck, you’ve been given some time to shut your brain off before you spend the rest of your day mugging and doing last-minute revisions for tomorrow’s exam. if you’re going to look at the brighter side of things, it’s your final exam and everything else is just submissions in the following week.

“okay, i gotta go. my airpods are dying and i need to continue studying.” you announce, sliding out of your shoes and into the furry dorm slippers that giselle had gotten for you.

“boo, you nerd.” although he says that, you know that he doesn’t want to end the two-hour call just yet. the weird thing is, neither do you. “study well. you’ll crush your exam tomorrow.”

you frown at the sudden affirmation.

“thanks,” you mumble. “you too.”

“at least say it like you mean it!” he complains loudly and you resist the urge to strangle him through the phone.

“what do you mean by that? i didn’t half-ass it! would you rather i go—“ you put on your best customer service smile and voice from when you used to work in retail—“‘oh, hyuckie, thank you so much! you’re the greatest, i’m sure you’ll do well tomorrow too!’?”

“yeah, i do! i like it a lot better when you call me hyuckie!” you open your mouth to hit him back with a smartass retort when you realise that you can’t. what he had just blurted out finally registered in your brain after an entire three seconds of silence.

“. . . huh?” that was all that you managed to say.

“everyone calls me hyuckie but not you.” his voice is barely above a whisper, a confession that’s so shy leaving his lips. “it’d be nice if you called me hyuckie every once in a while, you know.” is this his way of saving himself after that? are you reading too much into it? when did you even call him hyuckie?

when you backtrack and realise that you had indeed called him hyuckie by complete accident, your face burns in embarrassment. it’s not like you don’t want to call him that. you do but every time you even want to formulate it in your brain, you fear that it sounds more affectionate than you want it to be.

what the hell do you say now that it’s slipped?

you’re struggling for the right words to say, searching every corner and crevice of your brain for something—anything—but it feels like the seasons have passed and the flowers have bloomed until the final petal is hanging desperately onto the bud for an answer.

“i’ll call you hyuckie whenever i want to.” your voice comes out in a shallow whisper. it doesn’t sound like a proper answer but more like a promise.

“or alternatively, you could always call me yo–”

“can’t hear you, i’m hanging up, bye!” as soon as you anticipate what he is going to say, you talk over him in panic and abuse the red button on your screen until the call ends. with a loud groan of defeat, you drop yourself onto your bed and toss your phone onto the pillows. you cradle your head in your hands and release another groan, this time out of frustration.

it doesn’t make sense why your heart is fluttering and your stomach is twisting from what he said before you interrupted him. you both get along like fire and ice. he flirts with every single thing that breathes. you insult him every chance you get. you hate his guts half the time. he picks on you and gets on your nerves every waking moment of your life.

so why do you feel this compelling urge to kiss him to shut his stupidly handsome face up every time he’s near?

maybe it’s because you’re stressed.

yeah, that sounds right. you’re not thinking straight. the mental exhaustion and fog that comes with mugging for exams and tying loose ends for several projects are finally taking a toll on you. it’s so bad that it’s beginning to cloud your judgement and influence you into thinking otherwise.

yeah.

you’re just stressed. you’re definitely not developing feelings for someone in your friend group. university has been taxing on both your mind and body. this feeling—whatever this is—will eventually pass.

suddenly, your phone buzzes on your pillow. you lean over and grab it to open up a text from none other than the man himself.

another loud groan rips through your throat as you toss it back onto the pillow.

“i hate you, lee donghyuck.”

⠀⠀ ⠀⌒⠀ִ ✧ ﾟ 𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 

before you know it, your exams are over and all of your assignments are turned in.

no longer are you staring at a laptop screen amongst an ocean of open books and colourful page tags or holding a pen praying it won’t run out of ink halfway through the exam. for the first time in weeks, you managed to feel relaxed and well-rested after sleeping for ten hours straight. forget having to hole yourself in some secret corner in the library or your room with days-old stains on sweatshirts.

you’re free from the treacherous throes of exams and so are your friends, which is why you’re at the alpha neo fraternity with virtually every single student on campus with a cup of fruit punch in your hand.

like what donghyuck had promised, it’s the biggest party of the frat that you’ve ever attended yet. led lights line the perimeter of every ceiling to set the mood. speakers are found at almost every corner making sure the music fills the space. the entire place reeks of alcohol and sweaty bodies dancing, playing games, making out, and doing anything they can to relieve the stress of university.

speaking of donghyuck, you haven’t seen him in person for quite a while. you’ve texted, sure, but you’ve also been texting the others in your friend group. everyone had arrived at different timings so you couldn’t do your shotgun tradition which is perfectly fine. maybe you even felt a bit of relief if that meant not seeing him for a while longer.

the one who greeted you at the door was a face that you completely did not recognise. you doubt she’s someone from the frat but she did a great job at welcoming you in. she pulled you into a hug before she let you in and she strongly smelled of soju and beer so you figured she was drunk or at least close to that.

now you’re sticking close to the walls, hoping to catch even a glimpse of any one of your friends. texting them is futile especially when you’re sure half of them are drunk already. even if you feel a tad lonely in a frat house full of people, you’re sure your friends are more or less fine. probably.

“y/n!” you hear your name amongst the loud crowd and heavy bass that resonates through every fibre in your bones. you turn to see giselle with one hand already out to grab you. a soft laugh escapes your lips as you make your way over to her and meet her in the middle. “we were looking everywhere for you! everyone’s in the attic.”

“the attic?” for all the time you’ve spent in this house, not once have you ever guessed that there would be an attic. or a basement. “is it a creepy attic like the ones in scary american movies? rundown and all that?”

she cackles out loud and that’s when you know she’s on the verge of being drunk. she begins to lead you to wherever this place may be, snaking through a sea of sticky, sweat-slicked bodies.

“it’s well-kept, don’t worry. it’s not just us, there are others in their own groups too. it’s like . . . like . . . oh! a small party away from the main party.” she reassures you with a slight sway in her steps. if she’s on her way to being drunk, that means sungchan, ningning, and donghyuck are most likely already there. of everyone, renjun and shotaro have the highest alcohol tolerance out of everyone else, but you’re sure they want to take as many shots to get them loopy.

after navigating through the crowd, there’s a flight of stairs at the end of the third-level hallway, hidden behind a foldable shoji screen. that’s kind of a smart way to hide the attic from the lot of them.

the attic is unlike anything you’ve imagined.

fairy lights are strung along the walls, with singular light bulbs and potted plants hanging from the ceiling. there’s a moderately big speaker at the far end, connected to presumably mark’s laptop, playing music that you actually like. it’s not loud enough to be heard by people outside but it’s loud enough to drown the music at the main party.

like what giselle had said, there are people mingling around in their own little groups but sometimes they’ll break away to talk to others. there’s a table for snacks and for some reason, a large plate of roasted chicken. from the way it looks when you survey it, apparently, people are eating it too. there are three plates of baked cookies with one labelled ‘infused with devil’s lettuce’.

above your head, there’s a huge skylight that’s open to reveal the constellation of stars that decorate the dark night sky. moonlight floods generously through the attic and illuminates everything that it delicately touches. at the end, there’s a balcony separated by sliding glass doors that would lead people to the swimming pool below.

you spot what’s left of your group in the distance. donghyuck is the first to notice you and call out your name eagerly. you spot ningning, shotaro, and mark sitting with him in a circle.

“y/n!” one by one they turn their heads and cheer your name enthusiastically. your heart swells at the affection the group has for you and a big beam spreads across your face.

“i’m here too? hello to you too, damn.” giselle sulks and pouts, burying her face in your neck. you laugh and pull her close to your side, squeezing her waist gently before letting go so you can both sit down.

“so how drunk is everyone?” you place your cup down on the wood floor, looking at the group and the various states of drunkenness.

“on my way there,” ningning cutely slurs her words with a cheeky thumbs-up. sungchan is nowhere to be seen and you have to guess that he’s getting drunker than a skunk.

“we just wanted to get our eyes on you first before going to the main party. hyuck’s already four shots in within a little over an hour.” mark points at a somewhat drunk donghyuck, eyelids halfway down and shoulders drooping while he sports a loopy smile of contentment. if you didn’t know any better, he probably had a little bit of the edibles with his drinks. “renjun and sungchan are downstairs playing beer pong with others, we’re looking to join.”

“ning and i found two other girls who are really, really cute and we’re also hoping they’re a little—“ giselle flicks her wrist downwards gently “—so we can get some action. but maybe it’ll just be me if we don’t sober up soon.” she takes another swig of her drink with a toothy grin.

“i’ll go with beer pong. with this one drunk,” you gesture at donghyuck, “i’m sure we can get him to do some weird shit. good luck to you girls, though.” you’re already laughing to yourself thinking about the possibilities that could happen. when he’s sober, he’s already quite competitive and stubborn. these two traits of his seem to shine brighter when he’s drunk.

“sounds like a plan.” shotaro gives the gathered group a thumbs up.

everyone gets up and collects their valued belongings as you prepare to move to the main party. within minutes you’re back to loud, pop music that everyone knows the lyrics to with ridiculously strong bass shaking both the skeleton of the house and yours.

you’re bumping into swaying bodies left and right, either high as a kite or drunk as a skunk until you finally find the corner where renjun and sungchan are playing beer pong. there are a lot of faces that you don’t recognise but you immediately pick out jeno, the hot TA jaehyun, and the hot girl you hooked up with some months ago from them. at least they’re familiar.

it appears that the beer pong is no longer just beer, but a mix with soju and some coke. some drinks contain all of those. that’s surely one way to party.

when a ping pong ball bounces off the table and onto the floor, you realise that sungchan is no longer trying.

actually, he’s no longer sober.

renjun has practically wiped all of his cups while he only has half of renjun’s. the poor law student can barely even stand straight, he’s aiming all the way to his opponent’s general left area. you’re not even sure if he’s able to stand after the game.

“i can do it better,” you hear donghyuck mumble out loud enough for it to reach the ears of alpha neo’s king of beer pong.

“are you sure about that?” renjun scoffs through his nose and the ping-pong ball hits his chest. however, it bounces and lands in one of his cups. he was about to congratulate sungchan but there’s a gentle thud and the next thing you know, the poor boy is on the floor and knocked out cold. “oh my god. okay, someone else please play. i’m taking him to his room.”

“markie! i wanna play with you!” donghyuck has chosen his opponent and you have chosen to help renjun get sungchan up to his room while shotaro babysits the lightweights.

honestly, you didn’t think that taking sungchan back would require maths, physics, the forces of nature, and some divine magic. he’s a very tall person—the tallest in your friend group, too—and that means his limbs can end up in awkward, gangly situations. his arms are flopping over your shoulders as you help him up the stairs but it’s more of you and renjun making a joint effort to drag him up.

when you get into his room, you tuck him into bed while renjun prepares a bottle of water, some pills for the morning, and a plastic bag on the side just in case he needs to hurl. you’re both in and out quickly and then it’s just the both of you alone as you make your way back to the beer pong table.

“so when are you going to act on it?” renjun asks out of the blue. you turn and look at him in visible confusion, gesturing at him to elaborate. “your feelings for donghyuck.”

“huh?!” you almost choked on your spit at his ridiculous assumption based on nothing at all. “i do not have a crush on him.” do you? your tongue is all twisted as you think of a compelling argument to dispel his claims. “have you seen him? he’s . . . him!”

“dude, i’ve seen the way you look at him and the way he looks at you.” he laughs. what the hell does he mean by that?

“i look at him in contempt and disgust. my feelings for him are pure hatred. i tolerate his existence.”

renjun doesn’t seem at all too convinced by that. underneath the dim, coloured lighting, you’re glad he won’t be able to see most of your facial expressions when you turn away from him.

“whatever you say, y/n.” he smiles sweetly at you but you know it’s not sincere. it’s thinly-veiled sarcasm and he always gives that smile when he knows something that you don’t.

you open your mouth to retort when somebody grabs your arm unexpectedly. ready to fight whoever had grabbed you without your consent, your free hand balls into a fist as you turn but you’re quickly met with shotaro and his soft smile. you immediately relax.

“sorry, did i scare you?” he bashfully apologises while dragging you and renjun into the small circle that’s formed around the two beer pong players.

“all good, taro,” you pat his bicep gently.

mark has cleared some of his cups while donghyuck has only cleared a couple. it’s obvious who’s the winner and it’s even more obvious who’s tipping over the edge already.

“how’s the winner feeling?” you muse teasingly, arms folded across your chest as you look at mark.

“it’s not much of a challenge.” he shrugs as his opponent misses yet another cup. “he’s too drunk to even aim properly. i’m tipsy and i still can get some shots in.”

“talk later when i smoke your ass, lee minhyung!” he slurs, wagging his finger at the other. you’ve seen the man in varied states of drunkenness before but this is probably the first time he’s properly let go.

“oh no, the government name.” mark giggles while he grabs a ping pong ball so he can prepare his round. “i’m so scared, hyuckie.” he bounces the ball against the table and it aptly lands in one of donghyuck’s cups. half of the circle cheers while the other half chants for the sore loser to chug.

even in his drunken state, he can find the cup with the ball bobbing sadly. he takes it and carefully places the soiled ball into a bowl of clean water. you’re curious about what he will be drinking this time—will it be coke, beer, soju, or all of it mixed?

the second you see a slight frown on his face as he tastes the drink, you know it’s something he doesn’t want. he got beer.

“markie, winner gets to pick what the loser does!” he announces before downing the carbonated drink. god, you really should’ve seen this coming.

#5: HE WILL DO ANYTHING TO PROVE A POINT

the first time you had witnessed donghyuck go to lengths to prove a point was in freshman year. the boys were playing basketball while you, giselle, and ningning sat with shotaro at the side to listen to music and just vibe. you didn’t know what had started the commotion but there was a lot of shouting that had immediately stolen your attention.

“you’re not tall enough, jackass!” you heard renjun yell, fingers pressed to his temples as if he’s beyond stressed out.

“you should talk, jun.” donghyuck grinned. that man looked death in the eye and winked.

renjun did not hesitate to grab the orange ball from mark’s hands and started to chase him around with it.

“you wanna fucking die, you rat bastard?!” you couldn’t help but laugh at the scene unfolding. giselle practically fell into your lap laughing when the ball bounced off the ground and attacked donghyuck in the ass.

“all i said was i can definitely dunk!” he cried out in agony as he dramatically fell on the court and rolled over on his back in a spread-eagle position. sungchan grabbed the rogue ball and towered over him with a sadistic grin, raised over to his chest and ready to throw it directly where the sun doesn’t shine. “no! no, no, no! channie have mercy please, i’ll buy you ice pops! i’ll buy you anything!”

you were half-expecting sungchan to smash donghyuck’s precious testicles right then and there but he’s not as sadistic as you are . . . probably. he pretended to drop the basketball and the victim screamed bloody murder, immediately curling up and begging for mercy.

“you definitely cannot dunk!” you shouted loud enough for the boys to hear.

“yeah, hyuckie! you’re too tiny!” ningning continued the jeering and everyone was laughing out loud at the blatant affectionate bullying.

“i’m not too tiny?!” not wanting to take any more slander, he jumped onto his feet and immediately bumped into the tree that is sungchan and another round of giggling filled the air. “everyone, wait here. i’m gonna be back and exact my revenge! just wait!”

“we have all day, hyuck.” you raised your eyebrows and he flipped you off in response. and so he walked off with his phone to who knew where.

“should we follow him?” mark asked, hands on his hips as he watched his figure become tinier in the distance.”

“he’ll be fine.” renjun waved dismissively and walked over to where the non-basketball players lounged with the music and food.

“welcome to the oasis,” shotaro welcomed them with a smile, passing their water bottles over to them while they made space for themselves.

minutes later, donghyuck comes back with a ladder and you already had a rough idea of what he wanted to do. everyone fell silent as he walked across the court and planted the ladder directly underneath the hoop. he went back to your little picnic spread to retrieve the ball and by then, ningning had her phone out to film him.

all eyes were on him, basketball tucked under his armpit, strutting back to the metal ladder with a purpose. he climbed the steps and as soon as he was within reach of the hoop, renjun heaved a loud sigh.

everybody knew what he was doing by then. he held the basketball high over his head and dramatically shoved it down the hoop.

“i told you i could dunk!” that was simply the beginning of his countless misadventures just to prove a point.

there are over dozens of memories you would love to reminisce about but the beer pong game appears a tad more interesting.

mark had already gotten more than half of donghyuck’s cups, leaving him with three left to win. his sore loser of an opponent has about ten cups to clear and the winner is standing with one hand on his hip while he leans against shotaro.

“hyuckie, mark kinda won by a landslide.” renjun throws one of his arms over his shoulders to support him but he’s whining nonsense and pouting at his best friend.

“he still has cups! i can still win!” he declares aloud only for his words to get swallowed by the deafening music.

watching him, you have no idea if he’s an idiot or just plain drunk and competitive. but you honestly respect the fact that he’s still so eager to lose.

“okay, and what– guh– what does the loser have to do?” mark is obviously starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. as much as you would like to be a good friend and get him water, you’d hate to miss the shitshow when hyuck loses.

“wear a trash bag and throw himself in the pool.”

out of all the bets that the boys have been involved in, this is considered very tame.

mark’s eyes light up and it looks like he’s sobered up slightly as if he’s gotten a new sense of purpose.

you want to say that the game has gotten tense but everyone’s waiting for the grad student to win so they can play too. a song that you recognise begins playing and it’s that viral tiktok song, cupid. naturally, everyone else knows it too and starts aggressively yelling the lyrics.

weirdly enough, they’re playing the english version instead of the korean version which makes you laugh a little. most of the students at the party are native korean speakers so it was pretty amazing to see them excitedly singing along flawlessly. you spot some randomly mouthing things (see: donghyuck) until they get to a part they recognise.

from the corner of your eye, donghyuck was dancing along and even yanked mark to rope him into joining. the sheer sight of them drunkenly yet passionately dancing makes your heart swell with so much affection for your friends. renjun already has his phone filming it because you know that mark will deny ever doing it.

“i’d give a second chance to cupid!” everyone, including yourself, screams into the air, and bursts of laughter resonate afterwards.

“by the way,” mark turns to donghyuck, gaze heavy and serious. the younger male reciprocates the energy and you suddenly wonder what’s up. “you could never wear a trash bag. you’re too good-looking for that, bro.”

you sigh heavily. you definitely need more drinks for this. you turn to renjun who’s already way ahead of you, returning with three cups of soju mixed with coke.

“what? i could definitely rock a trash bag!” donghyuck protests with his words slurring together a little. you take your cup and take a huge gulp, needing the buzz under your skin.

“nobody’s wearing any trash bags!” shotaro exclaims in exasperation, not wanting to deal with either one of them accidentally flashing the entire campus. it’s not like it’s the first time, but he still wants to save some of their dignity.

“shh, let them be.” you wave dismissively at the two men standing on either side of you. “you two go and get drunk.”

“and let you have all the fun in watching these two dolts?” renjun scoffs but takes a swig of his drink. the last time you had all gotten drunk like this, renjun was the one who had taken care of everyone. you know he needs this release more than anyone since he’s going through some personal things on top of stressful exams.

“go on, jun. we know our y/n will take care of us.” shotaro cheerily swings his arm over your shoulders and takes a generous gulp of his drink. oh, he’s going for it alright. a wide grin spreads across your face as the three of you bump your plastic cups together.

renjun mulls over it for a moment before he quietly sighs. that’s when you know he’s given in. your eyes widen when shotaro stops him from chugging his drink.

“junie, let’s do that thing where we lock arms and drink!” you’re not sure if it’s the sugar in his system (he mentioned eating too much chocolate beforehand in the group chat) or if he had a bit of those weed cookies but shotaro is oddly giggly and loud. you’re not complaining, though.

you take a couple of steps back to give them space as they lock their arms. the two bring their cups to their lips and start to chug together. a laugh is caught at the back of your throat as you shake your head, taking another swig from your own cup.

“time to party!” shotaro and renjun disappear into the crowd, leaving you alone with mark and donghy–

wait.

you whip your head around, squinting to find the drunken sore loser. good god. you don’t know where he could have possibly gone. mark is generally not a problem when he’s drunk—all he does is giggle at everything and shower the nearest object with compliments. right now, the victim of his affection is jeno.

you look at the two and make eye contact with jeno. he probably managed to sense that you’re worried for him so he flashes you a sweet, reassuring smile and throws a thumbs up too. you exhale and smile back in relief, nodding slightly at him. you’re definitely going to have to thank him one of these days.

now, to the matter at hand: where the hell is lee donghyuck?

if it’s up to you, you’d flip the entire frat house upside down, pick him up like a mii character and drag him away from the crowd. since you have various limitations, you’ve resorted to using a high iq method: you have to think like a drunk donghyuck.

the best and the worst thing about him is that he’s unpredictable. but even when he’s unpredictable, he is predictable. so, taking a gulp of your drink, you try to think of the most probable theory that you can based on what had transpired less than fifteen minutes ago.

when the realisation hits you, you sigh and finish the rest of your drink. if you’re going to take care of him, you’ll do it with a slight buzz in your system before you can let go of all your inhibitions. you quickly find the nearest bin to dispose of your cup before setting off on your quest to stop your drunk friend from doing something stupid.

the first location that you went to is the kitchen. it is weirdly empty but you’re glad you didn’t walk in on anyone fucking. you notice the cabinet door underneath the sink is open slightly ajar. you open it up fully to see what’s inside and you’ve revealed your first piece of evidence: the pack of black trash bags being messily thrown aside with bits sticking out of its packaging.

so he already is in possession of the trash bag. he can’t be too far. you reckon he is definitely nearby. you just need to find bits and pieces of trash bags as you wade through heavy, sweaty bodies that you refuse to make any contact with.

donghyuck’s voice finds you faster than you trying to find him. you follow the direction where his laughter and drunken announcements are coming from until you find yourself in the backyard where the pool is, with the man himself dressed in a trash bag that barely covers his ass. wait. he’s not wearing underwear!?

“lee donghyuck!” you try your best to throw your voice over the music and it seems to have worked because he’s slowly turning around as you rush over.

the only problem is that his arms are still up and you can see the head of his dick peeking from the hem of his trash bag dress. you quickly avert your gaze out of respect and disgust (it was mostly the latter) and grab his arms to pull them down so he doesn’t flash himself to anyone else.

“what the hell are you doing?” you grab the cup that he’s holding and shove it into the hands of a passerby. he follows the direction of the cup but you divert his attention back by grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look at you instead. “lee donghyuck, focus up.”

“y/n, you’re so hot when you’re angry at me,” he wistfully lilts, his body swaying towards you and you steady him with your other hand. you simply let his comments be, knowing that he’s just intoxicated with enough drinks to keep him that way throughout the night. he calls out your name again in a sing-song way, arms circling around your waist and pulling you into a tight hug. “it feels so hot and you’re so warm but i’ve always loved your hugs . . .”

“yeah, whatever, let’s get you in bed. you’ve had enough.” you reach into your back pocket for your phone to take a look at the time and he hisses at the bright light from your screen. you mumble a half-assed apology that you probably don’t mean. it’s not even one in the morning. how quickly did he drink? you arrived at the party about two hours ago and the doors opened at nine.

donghyuck starts whining your name and leans in to rest his forehead against the crook of your neck, snuggling into you more when you begin to move.

#4: HE’S THE WORST DRUNK IN THE GROUP

you don’t mind your friends when they get shitfaced drunk. most of them are tolerable. mark starts to be overly affectionate with the nearest object. renjun gets moody and a little bit of a killjoy but get him more drinks and he’ll turn extremely giggly. giselle is weirdly confident and will begin to confess her undying love for her best friends. sungchan turns into a curious five-year-old and will eventually pass out. shotaro is loud, giggly, and will act like a person who’s high as a kite. the opposite is also true when he’s consuming the devil’s lettuce. ningning is also another one who unlocks a hidden volume button and becomes a loudspeaker when she gets drunk, and can and will make out with the nearest girl. donghyuck, on the other hand . . .

“hyuck, c’mon.” you pat his back but he squeezes you tighter and nuzzles his nose where your skin is exposed, needing the contact. another weak whine drawls from his throat. “you’re drunk and you’re gonna regret it in the morning. let’s get you in bed.”

“you’re not my parent.”

“no, i’m not but i have your mom’s number.” you don’t but you know it’s enough to scare a drunk donghyuck into behaving.

just as you predicted, he pulls away from you and his eyes widen in a mix of fear and panic. your faces are impossibly close. your cheeks and neck burn from the sudden proximity. from being mere inches away, you can see the beauty marks on his face, the gentle slopes and the sharp angles that make up his facial features accentuated by the strong shadows of the dim, coloured lighting. he looks good in neutrals and natural lighting but as ruby red filters into view, it’s like you’re looking at an ethereal creature made by the hands of aphrodite herself.

“you wouldn’t.” he dramatically whispers. his breath reeks with a putrid mix of john walker, soju, and coke, which easily brings you out of whatever stupor you were in before he started speaking.

“try me.” you challenge him with an eyebrow cocked upwards. you grab your phone and unlock it, immediately pretending to search for his mom’s number in your contacts. you tap on mark’s number and pretend to start a call.

“no! nonononono, don’t, don’t! i’ll behave, y/n, please!” donghyuck immediately grabs onto your wrist and gives you the best drunken puppy eyes he can possibly muster. you almost feel bad for wanting to laugh but you quickly hide it with a scoff through your nose. it’s not like he’s going to hear it, anyway. “promise me you won’t call my mom!”

“fine, fine,” you shake your head and keep your phone in your back pocket. “are you ready to go to bed?”

“i’m not tired!” he whines and starts to stumble off, in pursuit of what you’re guessing may be another red cup for a drink. you follow him from behind and make sure he doesn’t bump into anybody and get into a fight with one of the weirdly muscled dudes from another frat. lee donghyuck is a lot of things but a winner in physical fights isn’t one of those.

“no, but you’re extremely drunk and you’re gonna get a hangover so bad you’re going to throw up.” when he picks up a cup, he diligently yet clumsily scoops it into the bowl of spiked fruit punch. sure, why not? that works.

“can a drunk person do this?” he turns to you and looks at you like he had just cartwheeled across the room. you give him a non-committal noise and he takes it as a win, triumphantly downing a generous amount of the punch. an excited squeal escapes him and you had almost mistaken him for an idol’s fan. “this tastes so good! it feels like i have the teletubbies dancing in my tele-tummy.” oh god, you barely forgot how much worse his jokes can get when he’s smashed.

he can barely stand still, body swaying as he struggles to keep his feet on the ground. as you stand there and survey him from head to toe, clad in nothing but a black trash bag, the first question that pops into your mind is: where the hell is the rest of his clothes? the deep, saturated red of the coloured lights emphasises some of his best features.

you notice the curves of the toned muscles of his biceps, the dark shadows that cast making them appear more defined. your eyes trail further down and his thick, sturdy thighs come into view. he had once told the group that he went for a lot of dance lessons, spanning from jazz to ballet to tap, and has a natural affinity for it. even though he no longer dances, he’s part of the university ice hockey team with mark, jeno, and sungchan. maybe that’s where he gets those thighs from.

before your mind can start to wander, somebody bumps into you from behind and you’re shoved into his chest. his arms come around to instinctively hug you but he has his cup in hand still. you feel cold water run down your back and you involuntarily shiver.

“lee donghyuck!” your voice comes out a lot more whiny than you intend it to.

“i’m sorryyy!” even his apology is coming in a slight slur. “tissue—hic!—tissues . . .” he mumbles, searching around for something to clean you up with. you sigh as you make some distance between the both of you. you can’t really be mad at him when he’s under the influence of alcohol.

“that’s okay, hyuckie. let’s get you into your room, yeah?” the nickname falls from your lips all too naturally before you can even register it in your brain. you take him by the arm and remove his crushed plastic cup from his hand, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“m’kay . . .” he grumbles. luckily, he’s too drunk to even realise that you’d called him by his favourite nickname. when you look at him, he looks like a kicked puppy with his shoulders sagging and feet dragging along the floor as he walks with you. cute, you think to yourself.

donghyuck looks down where your fingers wrap around his forearm. he doesn’t say a word but instead chooses to remove your hand by the wrist, then place it where his hand is out waiting for you. he intertwines your fingers together, warmth spreading through your body and your heart is skipping beats every other half-second. you look up at him in surprise but all he does is give you that big, cheeky grin of his.

you clench your jaw and take a deep breath. why are you suddenly feeling nervous underneath his gaze? he’s drunk. he’s intoxicated. he’s anything but sober. he can’t form any coherent thoughts so you can’t start feeling these . . . weird things in your stomach when he does shit like this. all you need to do is get him to your room and change his clothes. you might borrow one of his shirts since your top is ruined, but it’s not your first time doing it.

“c’mon, let’s go.” you chastise him gently and tug him forward so you can continue walking.

it feels like the crowd keeps forcing you two together. wading through the sweaty, dancing bodies, your back is pressed up against donghyuck’s chest. you don’t know if he’s slowly sobering up since his free hand is on your waist, squeezing every now and then as you desperately search for a way out from this suffocating sea of people. everyone is stumbling all around you, barely bumping into each other, slurring apologies or half-assed empty threats that disappear in the thick fog of music in the air.

after what seems like forever, you finally found the flight of stairs that lead to his room in the frat house. by then, donghyuck is practically leaning against you for support and mumbling incoherencies that you can barely make any sense of. you lug him down the hallway and as you get further from the party and music, you find yourself paying attention to the shit he has to say.

“sometimes i wonder why you act as if you hate me so much but then i realise maybe you like me like i like you too but then i think again and it feels like . . . mm . . . it feels like your body is so warm and soft, i can fall asleep on you . . . junie told me to make a move but i don’t know . . . should i make a move?”

what the hell is he talking about? you spot his door and zero in on it, bumping into one of his very sober frat brothers—johnny, was it?—who flashes you an apologetic smile as he makes his way out to rejoin the party. you thought that his eyes were looking a little red-rimmed but you let it go since all that’s on your mind is to get this drunk man out of his trash bag and into a set of pyjamas, tuck him in, then call it a night.

“y/n,” he drags out the last syllable of your name and rubs his face into your shoulder. “feels hot, wanna take m’clothes off.”

“hang in there hyuckie, we’re almost in your room.” you release your intertwined hands and he whines from the loss of contact. you sigh, rolling your eyes as you open the door. it’s not your first time in his room—he has always kept it clean and organised. you flip the light switch and his room is illuminated with a bright white light. he’s one of the fancier ones who has a remote controller to change if he wants warm light, white light, or somewhere in between.

as soon as you sit him down on his bed, the first thing you do is peel your top off. he’s drunk and he definitely won’t remember a single thing, which is why you’re so comfortable with it. you start digging through his drawers for one of his shirts to wear and grab the first one you see, pulling it over your head and immediately being showered by his scent.

his usual cologne consists of smoky, woody scents balanced out with the sweet tones of vanilla. he always smells so familiar to you and it fills you with a certain kind of warmth that spreads throughout all over your body. sometimes you hope his scent embeds itself into you, sinking through your skin and deep into your soul.

when you realise that he’s been awfully quiet, you wonder if he’s fallen asleep, but the rustling of the trash bag tells you otherwise. you whip around to look at him struggling to get himself out of the plastic with his dick out for the whole world to see.

“lee donghyuck, what do you think you’re doing?” you sigh in exasperation, deliberately looking anywhere but waist-down.

“it’s hot, y/n!” he complains out loud and lets his body fall back onto the mattress dramatically. even when he’s drunk he doesn’t resist being a little bitch, huh.

“i know that, chill. let me get you some damn clothes so you don’t have your dick out.”

you turn your back on him and start to dig through his drawers once again. you pull out a pair of basketball shorts and dark navy calvin kleins for him to change into. before you can pass them to him, donghyuck is out of the trash bag and he’s hugging you from behind. his arms are secured around your waist as he rests his forehead on your shoulder while groaning in pain.

“can you make the world stop spinning? m’head hurts . . .”

“lee donghyuck, are you naked?”

“i asked you first.”

you sigh.

“i can’t make the world stop spinning but can you put on some clothes?” with the fistful of his minimal clothing, your peel one of his hands from your waist and place it there.

“i dunno, can i?” ah, he really is cute for trying.

“just put on the clothes.”

he mumbles something to himself, most likely complaining about how ‘mean’ you are but it’s nothing you haven’t heard before, especially when he’s like this.

you hear him stumble and struggle until you hear the elastic band of his boxers snap against his waist. you don’t hear any movement from him and you’re overcome with a strong urge to turn around.

“hyuck?” you softly call out his name.

“can i just wear my boxers to sleep? ‘s too hot . . . m’body feels like ‘s on fire . . .”

for someone who’s drunk, he sure is moving around a lot faster than you would like to admit. before you can even do anything else, he has his arms wrapped around your waist and his forehead is yet again on your shoulder. you’re being engulfed in his scent from standing in his room, wearing his shirt that’s a tad big on you, and him hugging you from the back. maybe engulfed isn’t even the right word— you’re overwhelmed, practically even drowning in it and your mind is reeling from how good he smells and feels, much against your liking.

“i’ll turn the air conditioning on for you, how’s that sound?” he’s an absolute handful to deal with when he’s drunk. it’s like taking care of a sugar-high kid, especially when he crashes and burns and turns into a big baby.

donghyuck makes a small sound of approval and you take that as a yes. you turn around whilst still being trapped within his arms. your hands perch tenderly on his firm shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze but he pulls you in tighter and you sigh.

“hyuckie, i can’t tuck you in and turn on the AC if you’re going to keep hugging me.”

“but y’feel nice an’ soft,” he mumbles into your shoulder, nuzzling his nose until he makes contact with your skin and sighing happily. “wanna cuddle you.” the sudden confession had your stomach twisting nervously in knots.

he’s drunk, you remind yourself. he hasn’t a single clue what he’s talking about. it’ll pass when he’s tucked in and fast asleep. suddenly you yearn for the loud music and sweating bodies downstairs.

you wordlessly reach behind you to unwrap his arms from your waist. with your fingers wrapped around his wrist, you lead him to his bed and sit him down after you have pushed aside his blanket. you make sure that he’s properly lying down before turning on his air conditioner and setting the timer for an hour.

donghyuck whines your name into his pillow when you tuck him in, refusing to let you go.

“hyuckie,” you gently warn him to behave without an ounce of real anger.

“‘s too bright. wanna cuddle.”

you fall silent at his request. he’s drunk and exhausted and you can tell from the way he’s getting whinier and his fights are becoming weaker. you need to throw his trash bag dress away and toss all of his dirty clothes into his hamper.

“give me five minutes, can you do that for me?” you whisper. you’re going to have to turn the lights off as soon as you’re done with what you have to do. you’ll just let him cuddle you and as soon as he falls asleep, you can return to the party and check in on your other friends.

“fine,” he grumbles after pondering it over. you’re suddenly overcome with the urge to pat his head and give him a kiss on the temple like you would to literally anyone else when you’re taking care of them when they’re drunk off their asses. you hold yourself back and quickly get down to business.

within minutes, you flick the light off once all of your chores have been completed. it only means that you have to return to entertaining the man-baby who had been quietly watching you while you worked.

donghyuck calls out for you again and you sigh loud enough to let him know that you’re still there. if you’re going to get in bed with him, you might as well get comfortable even if it’s for ten minutes.

you quickly shimmy off your jeans before crawling underneath his duvet on the other side of his bed. you hear some shuffling so you guess that it’s him rolling over and your assumption is correct when you feel his arms circle around your waist to pull you flush to his chest. it probably doesn’t matter to him that your back is to him, but god, it’s the only thing that matters to you.

heat rushes from your core straight to your cheeks and chest, goosebumps rippling across your arms as he nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck. you’re fighting tooth and nail so you wouldn’t feel anything but there’s a whole kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering in your stomach from the contact.

“y/n?” he calls out, his voice merely the ghost of a whisper. you feel his plush lips move softly against your skin through the cotton of his shirt that you’re wearing and for a brief second, you had wondered what it’s like to feel it directly on your exposed skin. “you won’t leave me, right?”

you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t know what he’s secretly talking about. just before he met you, he had broken up from a relationship of close to four years. you remember how he was in his healing stage when you were first properly introduced to each other. it appeared like he was a mere shell of the man he used to be.

to him, everything reminded him of her. you maintained a safe distance from him because you knew it wouldn’t be pretty if something happened and the last thing you needed was to cause infighting. your group was still fresh and looking at everything through rose-tinted glasses. you were all new to each other and there were boundaries yet to be set.

you remembered renjun sharing with you that she was her first real relationship—you still remember her name: kwang haein—and they quite literally went through thick and thin together. renjun lamented to you, saying that they didn’t exactly have the healthiest relationship and it didn’t help when they started it in high school at the ripe age of 15. it was a miracle they made it all the way to graduation.

she was someone who would manipulate him into spending time with her and gaslit him every time they got into a fight. she was emotionally unavailable and hyuck had so much love to give. every time she spared mere crumbs, he would number them and keep them to satisfy himself, considering the affection that he deserved. the worst part of it all was the fact that haein broke up with him through text of all things. she called him a narcissist for wanting to spend time with renjun and mark, rekindle what was once lost and rebuild their friendship after he realised the damage he had done to her.

you don’t know what exactly happened, but you know that haein gave this poor man abandonment issues.

tears prick from the corner of your eyes without even realising it when you recall the hurt and the pain he must have experienced during and after his relationship with her.

get a grip, you tell yourself, exhaling quietly through your lips. you quickly wipe away your tears before they fall and turn around so you can look at him. he shifts back when he realises you’re moving around. half-lidded eyes heavy with the beckoning of sleep, he looks at you in confusion.

“i’m not gonna leave you, hyuck,” you promise. before you can even catch yourself, your hand moves up to push locks of his dark brown hair away from his face. you recall his grape hair from a couple of months back. the colour looked really good on him but at the cost of his hair getting damaged since he decided to diy it himself to prove renjun wrong. he did a pretty good job, though. “you’re not getting rid of me that easily. we’re good friends, aren’t we? even if we fight a lot and say that we hate each other and insult each other more than half the time.”

“yeah.” he lets his eyes fall close and you smile. “we’re friends.” your smile quickly turns into a frown. why did he sound so disappointed? you refuse to let your brain wander. there’s no use thinking about it. he’s drunk, you remind yourself. why do you have to keep telling yourself that? why does being so close to him make your heart race a mile a minute?

you choose to spend your energy waiting for him to fall asleep, watching as his chest rises and falls until it moves into a steady, slow rhythm. you quietly call out his name to check if he’s awake. he doesn’t respond. good, he’s asleep.

one good thing about him being drunk is that when he falls asleep, he can easily be mistaken for a dead body. the whole world could be collapsing all around him and he is still sound asleep.as you close his bedroom door behind him, you heard him mutter something in his slumber but you didn’t go back to check on him. you do feel bad for leaving him after you told him that you wouldn’t, but you can’t afford to skip out on the alcohol. you’re not going to leave him in general. after what had just transpired from the time you found him in his trash bag to when he asked you such a vulnerable question, you’re in desperate need to get wasted and maybe get a number to add to your body count.

⠀⠀ ⠀⌒⠀ִ ✧ ﾟ 𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 

the first thing you did when you woke up the morning after was rethinking your life choices to drink and party until three in the morning. you’re good with alcohol so you didn’t get as shitfaced as you wanted to but it did enough damage to leave you slightly disoriented when the sun woke you up. after you had cleaned yourself up, you headed back to the frat house in donghyuck’s shirt and a pair of drawstring sweat shorts.

so there you are, standing in the kitchen with a renjun who’s wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants and an apron with a very tan bodybuilder’s body on it, making pancakes and hangover cures for the gang. honestly, the main reason why you wanted to spend some time with renjun is to ask him for his thoughts on what had happened between you and donghyuck the night before.

“renjun,” you attempt to call his name and it comes out more nervous than it should’ve. “hyuck kind of uh, said some stuff to me . . . last night. when i um, when i was tucking him into bed.” you grab one of the pancake mix boxes and start to make more pancake batter. your eyes sit on his side profile, waiting for an answer from him but all that you get is a hum to signal for you to continue speaking.

you really hope that you won’t regret spilling your guts to him. it’s noon and it’s way too early for you to be awake, especially after partying and babysitting grown men last night. nobody should be awake other than shotaro but he’s up in his room showering after he helped to clean the house up before you arrived.

you spare renjun no detail, even going back to clip bits and pieces from your past interactions together as proof points as to why his behaviour shouldn’t be so strange yet it only serves to circle back to why his behaviour was strange. he listens patiently to every word, nodding and humming to let you know that he’s still there and his mind isn’t wandering off into some faraway land.

“so, uh, yeah.” you conclude lamely, passing him the bowl of pancake batter that you made while pouring your heart out.

renjun makes eye contact with you and there’s an unrecognisable expression on his face when he takes the ceramic bowl from you. is it disappointment? is it confusion? you can’t tell and frankly, you’re too scared to ask.

“dude, we’ve been over this.” oh god, not this again. “i’ve told you so many times that he’s literally in love with you. and if i didn’t know any differently, you–”

“who’s in love with who?”

speak of the goddamn devil.

“nobody.” you quickly snap and turn around to look at donghyuck. “nobody is in love with anyone.” you steal that opportunity to take a good look at him.

his dark hair is a mess with a cowlick sticking out on the side of his head, and luckily for everyone in the room, he’s wearing a pair of grey sweats instead of waltzing into the kitchen in his boxers. unluckily for you, however, he’s not wearing a shirt. you can clearly see the dips and curves of his chest and the structured v-line that disappears past the elastic of his sweatpants along with the stupid happy trail.

“eyes up here, babe,” he winks at you before walking past, exaggerating the swing of his hips before he gives renjun a back hug. you should seriously punch him right then and there but seeing how he’s most likely dealing with a hangover (and hiding it very well), you decide to be merciful. “my pancake is making us pancakes? how sweet of you!” he presses their cheeks together and you can tell that the victim of his affection is stuck between hitting him in the face with the spatula in his hand or letting him be.

there’s no way this casanova over here is in love with you.

he would probably trade you for a $5 steam gift card. he picks on you and gets under your skin every chance he gets. he’s a damn nuisance and a pain in the ass. he’s loud, he’s throwing you inappropriate jokes every time the opportunity presents itself, and he’s such a gossip. he gives you so many reasons not to even look at him romantically so why the fuck did you get butterflies in your stomach last night?

it’s safe to say that it bothers you to the point where you’ve made it your personal mission to distance yourself from him. you’re doing this as a favour for both of you. you won’t have to deal with these confusing emotions that are stirring within you and he doesn’t have to be so fixated on you. honestly, you don’t even know what he sees in you.

donghyuck, on the other hand, sees this news that someone in your shared friend group is in love with you, as an opportunity to fix you two up together. you can be so uptight sometimes that a good fuck should help you loosen up. that’s what he thinks, anyway.

after he has breakfast and cleans himself up, he sits in his room and pulls out one of his notebooks. he flips to a random page and begins to plot out his game plan to get you a partner. if everything goes well, there’s a confession by the end of the week and if he’s lucky, you might even get a good lay. he’s doing this for your own good, and maybe a little bit of his own, because if you’re not going to look at him like he does, he should at least help the other person.

the first clue that he has is ‘he’. that’s the only clue that he has, really, but it narrows down the list of suspects pretty well. renjun and mark are obviously off the hook since they both have their own respective crushes to deal with. or maybe he can’t really say ‘crush’ for mark since he’s going to attempt to ask them out soon.

he stares at the two names that he had scribbled down: osaki shotaro and jung sungchan.

he sets the scene with you and shotaro sitting next to each other on the couch, laughing and giggling with each other. the transfer student has his arm thrown over your shoulder. he leans in for a kiss and you reciprocate. no. he then pictures you and sungchan next, doing the same things. there’s a pierce in his heart as he thinks of the possibility of you ending up with either one of them because the selfish part of him doesn’t want you to.

he wants you to end up with him. lee donghyuck, the one and only person who’s constantly getting under your skin because he likes seeing the frown on your face and the way you scrunch up your nose in annoyance. the only person who’s willing to spend the extra bucks on renting out a nice, clean car to drive you out to hongdae to eat at that japanese restaurant you love so much because he knows you’ve been stressed off your ass. the only person who showed up at your dorm with your favourite food when you got stood up by a supposed ‘ex’ in freshman year because he knows how it feels to be tossed aside for something better.

lee donghyuck wants to be the one and only person that you hold and kiss and love because he finally got a taste of it last night when he pretended to be too drunk so you could take care of him, and he doesn’t want anyone else to take it away from him.

renjun has told him before that his feelings for you will be reciprocated. he doesn’t understand it, though. if he means that you’re going to reciprocate his attempts at spending time with you, sure. that, you definitely do. he knows that you take extra care of him especially when he’s vulnerable but he’s always surmised that it’s your way of showing affection after calling him silly things like ‘shitty’ or ‘stupid’. he knows that you don’t mean a single word that you say, which is why he loves it so much when you’re both caught in this little game of cat and mouse.

if he means that you’re going to return his romantic feelings for you, he’s not going to believe it at all.

swallowing the ugly feelings that threaten to surface, he shoves them deep down and buries them away, never to be opened by anyone ever. even if he can’t be the one who makes you happy, he sure hopes this mysterious suitor can make you half as happy as you make him feel.

the first person donghyuck has to text is none other than his second beloved anime boy, shotaro. the first place, of course, belongs to none other than his frat brother nakamoto yuta. he quickly searches for his contact and begins a conversation.

his heart stops.

you and him?

partners?

he stares at his texts in shock, watching his message go from ‘delivered’ to ‘read’ and a thumbs up appear on its outer corner.

is that what you’ve both looked like to others?

immediately he pictures you on his lap, his chin resting on your shoulder as he wraps one secure arm around your waist. his free hand is yours to fiddle around with, enjoying the sensation of your skin on each other. he immediately recalls the warmth of your body when your back was pressed up against his front last night.

heat spreads from his chest to the rest of his body at the mere thought of being able to have that with you again. if there’s anything he needed last night after weeks of exams and deadline submissions, it’s you. but you arrived late to the party, dressed so simply yet so you manage to look so goddamn attractive in your oversized shirt and jeans.

pause. you were wearing his oversized shirt this morning.

he reels through his mind and scavenges through what he had witnessed in the kitchen when he came down. the first thing he saw was you, standing with your back facing him in his navy blue ncit varsity shirt and his name and number on the back.

donghyuck definitely didn’t feel jealous when you weren’t alone in the kitchen. there was a bitter taste in his mouth when he had eavesdropped enough to know that someone has a crush on you, and it pinched his heart painfully when both you and renjun looked so domestic in the little nook. but it was partly soothed when he saw renjun wearing the abs apron.

right. renjun. he needs to tell him.

it might be the shirt you had stolen from him last night when he had accidentally spilt his drink on you. does his shirt feel that comfortable? does it smell strongly like him?

his heart soars when he realises that you’re walking around campus with his name on you. you’re not his at all—you don’t belong to anybody, in fact—but this little detail has him giggling to himself alone in his room, euphoric bliss filling him up.

now, it’s time for him to figure out who the hell has a crush on you, but he doesn’t know if he wants to sabotage the crush or keep you for himself. he’ll probably decide later on. for now, he just wants to know who.

⠀⠀ ⠀⌒⠀ִ ✧ ﾟ 𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 

you don’t know how or why, but you’ve come to this one conclusion: you have strong feelings for lee donghyuck. are they positive? sexual? negative? you have no idea. but every time he pops up into your mind unprompted, you feel a very strong urge to hope you spontaneously combust in the middle of whatever it is that you’re doing.

you’ve made it a point to avoid him for as long as you possibly can and in turn, avoid confronting your feelings, too.

every time he texts you to gossip or just yell in general, you do your best not to get pulled in by his theatrics and bizarre storytelling methods. you don’t want him to think you’re ignoring him even though you are, but you’re not exactly the best actor.

still in the festive spirit of being free from the shackles of painful and mind-numbing exams, a sorority is hosting a party. this time, it’s giselle and ningning’s: alpha chi ræd. even today, you still find it a little weird that giselle managed to hook up with her ex-girlfriend who is also her sorority sister.

red, purple, and black. sounds like the standard ræd party. you know that giselle and ningning are going to dress the best that they can and be sirens for the night. it’s a couple of hours away and you’re chilling in your dorm with some show playing on your monitor that you’re not really paying attention to. your ears are cushioned by your wireless headphones, walking around your room aimlessly.

should you start picking out your outfit now? it’s not like you have anything to do, anyway. your eyes flit to the time on your digital clock. you haven’t had dinner and you know better than anyone to drink on an empty stomach. chewing on your bottom lip, you grab your phone and start texting your favourite dinner buddy. his charming smile always gets you extra free food.

after sealing the promise of dinner, you turn on the lights so your room wouldn’t be drowning in complete darkness. you take off your headphones and turn off the forgotten show playing in the background serving as background noise. there’s a strong urge inside of you to text hyuck and ask him if he wants to join you and sungchan for dinner because you know he’s coming over in a heartbeat with the promise of free food.

but you don’t.

you’re not supposed to like him. you can’t. it’s going to ruin the dynamics of the friend group . . . right? you look at your phone, the screen lighting up to display a group photo you had taken together on a trip to jeju and nami islands to pretend to be tourists.

your eyes immediately find where you and donghyuck are sitting on the ground together. his arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him with your thigh crossing over his. your hand throws up a peace sign while you laugh, eyes forming half crescents with your hair blocking some of your facial features. his other hand is on your cheeks, thumb and index fingers pressing them together to make you look silly. you can hear his laughter in your ears, beaming ear to ear with a grin rivalling the sun.

behind you both, everyone’s also trying to get someone else to fuck up the photo. renjun was trying to tackle mark onto the ground but he ended up getting piggybacked. ningning has sungchan in a headlock while giselle and shotaro are trying to out-tickle each other, resulting in shotaro almost falling over and tripping on hyuck.

warmth fills you from your core, spreading all over your body as your eyes wander back to you and him.

you can’t fall in love with him. you can’t risk falling for someone like him. not again.

your story isn’t half as sad as donghyuck’s—or at least, you hope it isn’t. you met someone back in freshman year. he’s on the same campus, just a year older but studying at the same level as you are.

it was during your freshman orientation. thinking about it makes you want to barf, really. he’s similar to donghyuck personality-wise and you got along with him extremely well. you could flirt and insult each other within mere seconds and it’ll all be in good heart. over a very fast period of time, he had asked you out on a date.

of course, you said yes. he’s charming, funny, and good-looking—what more could you need or want?

you were too infatuated to realise your so-called relationship was toxic and he was merely using you for a fuck buddy. he didn’t have the emotional availability, the maturity, the seriousness, or everything you needed for a secure and healthy relationship.

luckily you were able to cut ties with him and break everything off before it got any worse. you thought it was your first real relationship while in university but he decided to pull you around and toy with you.

you snap into your senses when your phone buzzes in your hand. your screen lights up with a message from donghyuck.

your fingers move to type an answer out, that there’s no way sungchan of all people would have a crush on you, but there’s a knock on the door with the man himself carrying your food.

#3: HE’S THE WORST AT KEEPING SECRETS

you take a mental note to reply to him later and in that, you’re reminded of the fact that nobody should ever tell him secrets. ever.

there are way too many times when he accidentally spoiled a surprise or ruined something because he gets way too excited. everyone knows how honest he is and sometimes he may slip up in his promise to be honest to everyone around him.

you open the door to reveal sungchan carrying a bag of food in his left hand and another bag that you assume are his party clothes. he’s clad in black slacks and matching dress sneakers, with a fishnet top underneath his oversized white tee. now, you’re kind of excited to see his final look.

“hi y/n, i have secured the munchies!” he greets you with a gentle smile and you invite him in.

“you look excited for the party.” you comment as he sets the food on the low table in the middle of your dorm room. he grins back at you as he begins unpacking while you transfer him however much you owe.

“extremely,” he sighs almost wistfully. “i’ve never been to a ræd party before and i’ve always heard good things. apparently, there’s going to be beer towers and those little shot ferris wheels and an open bar in the backyard.”

you sit down across from him and pull your kimchi fried rice towards you. a soft laugh escapes your lips from his enthusiasm. you don’t blame him. the alpha chi ræd are well-known for their impeccable music, booze, and theatrics. the alpha neos are better known for their vibes and safety.

“well, joohyun’s pretty loaded and so is wendy. it wouldn’t be out of the box for them to throw such fancy parties, especially since joohyun’s graduating top of the class for her master's degree.” you carefully peel open the lid and start to mix your food together as sungchan does the same to his bibimbap.

“speaking of parties, i was thinking that we should throw mark a canada-themed party for his birthday.” he suddenly pipes up, and you cock an eyebrow upward in question at the sudden subject shift. “i mean, obviously we won’t tell hyuck. we nearly fumbled with renjun’s birthday because he got too excited about the project.”

a bright laugh bubbles from the back of your throat at the fond memory. since renjun is an avid movie lover, everyone decided to bring him to a diy drive-in movie. well, less of a drive-in, more of a cinema in the middle of a rugby field.

giselle gave this brilliant idea to surprise him with a short film of their best or favourite moments with him. it’ll of course be concluded with a gift-giving session. in order for it all to be executed flawlessly with no holes, you had to find a way to shut donghyuck up. that meant he couldn’t be left alone with renjun at any given time.

“i still find it hilarious that he almost fucked up the film surprise because he asked renjun to airdrop him videos of the both of them.” you snicker at the memory, remembering how all of you nearly got found out thanks to his slip-up.

“it’s literally so stupid!” sungchan is laughing with you and you can’t forget when mark literally had to throw himself in and save him. “but it’s cute how their dynamic goes. hyuck is the one who lives in the moment and jun is the one who captures the moment. and hyuck is also the one asking jun for said moments when he starts to miss whatever had happened.” 

no truer words have been spoken.

“i remember when he thought that mark had a crush on me. he texted it to me while i was hanging out with mark and giselle. we had literally managed to just get more comfortable with each other. god, that was lowkey traumatising.” you shake your head and start to eat your meal before it gets cold. sungchan looks at you with glimmering eyes, obviously intrigued by the idea of you and mark becoming an item (which is never). “why are you looking at me like that?”

“so i wasn’t the only one who thought that way?” he teasingly nudges your knee with his. you groan and roll your eyes at him as he laughs at your reaction. “no, seriously though! i did think that he had a crush on you!”

“for like, the millionth time,” you sigh. “mark made it very clear he was nervous around me because i scared him. i have an aura that’s ‘intimidating’ sometimes, i guess? his words. i don’t know.” you make a non-committal noise and shrug.

sungchan doesn’t say anything, only stuffing his mouth with a spoonful of his food while maintaining eye contact with you. great. another one who looks like he knows something you don’t.

“out with it.” you tiredly beckon with your free hand, eating more of your fried rice.

“speaking of crushes . . .” there he goes again. “. . . what’s up with you and hyuck? he told me that you’ve been kind of avoiding him.”

‘kind of’ is an understatement. you are absolutely, without a doubt, a hundred per cent avoiding him. you just didn’t think that you were that obvious. you didn’t really know what to say so you quietly play with your food, swallowing whatever is in your mouth before speaking.

“i . . . guess i kinda am?” you look at him, obviously unsure. “i don’t know . . . i mean . . . well . . .” you’re racking your brain for some sort of answer but you know that sungchan already knows your answer from the way you’re stammering.

he happily continues eating his food without a care in the world, satisfied with your answer.

“did he do something to piss you off?” he asks but you shake your head. he does a lot of things to try and piss you off but he hasn’t really gone too far just yet. “then what is it? did something happen at our party?” you give him the stink eye when he gets it spot-on.

sungchan straightens his back and leans in closer to you. of course he’s excited when he gets exclusive content. sometimes you can’t help but wonder if hyuck’s love for gossip managed to bleed into the systems of the others. sungchan, mark, giselle and yourself have never been one for gossip but every time hyuck says he knows something and starts sharing, you’d be very much upset if you got cockblocked while he did.

“the only person who knows what happened that night is renjun.” you begin and you do your best to put on a serious tone but with the younger male’s excitement and eager smile, you can’t help but break a small smile, chuckling through your nose. “you can’t tell anyone, okay?”

“lips are sealed, cross my heart and hope to die.” you can tell that sungchan is biting his tongue—he has more to say—but he keeps his silence and your peace, urging you to continue. you eye him suspiciously but continue regardless.

so you tell him. you know you can trust him to keep his mouth shut about it but with donghyuck’s persuasive magic that works on everyone, you try to hold yourself back from going down into the details.

the whole time you’re recounting the events of the night for the second time, you’re feeling butterflies in your stomach yet again when you recall his scent overwhelming you in the best way possible. you recall his slightly calloused hands on yours, fingers intertwined; body pressed up against yours so intimately.

sungchan took it upon himself to take your hand and scoop your rice, bringing it to your mouth wordlessly to get you to eat since you tend to forget about multitasking. you nod at him in thanks when he pulls his hand away to let you take a couple of bites and take a quick break from storytelling.

“so yeah.” you finish it off lamely, angrily taking a bite of your rice and finishing it up. “that’s the whole story.”

“you’re in love with him.”

his comment almost made you choke on your food. you manage to save yourself from dying while sungchan laughs at your misery and misfortune, glaring at him while you do until you’re able to calm down. he pushes his bottle of grape juice to you and you snatch it from him, downing the drink until you’re fine.

“what the hell do you mean ‘you’re in love with him’?” you sputter incredulously. your heart is shaking, drumming wildly against your rib cage as you rake your fingers through your hair. you? in love with him?

“why are you like, the last one to know?” he grins knowingly, leaning back on his hands.

“what the hell do you mean i’m the last one to know?!” this time, your voice increases in an octave as you almost shriek your words out. when you realise how ridiculous you sound, you clear your throat and straighten your posture. you’re suddenly reminded of donghyuck’s texts to you. this man sitting across from you does not have a crush on you.

“everyone can see you’re both like, pining after each other in your weird way.” sungchan’s grin grows wider when he’s connected the dots together.

“there’s no way.”

“oh my god, renjun was so right. you do look super constipated whenever you fight it!” your face burns up down to your neck and up to your ears. you have half the mind to throw your dirty takeout bowl at his head. “we need to get you looking absolutely smoking tonight. like an absolute hottie.”

“i’m not dressing like a stripper.” you deadpan him.

like a scene in a coming-of-age young adult movie, he’s dragging you to your closet and giving you the biggest transformation to step into the party looking ‘absolutely smoking’.

the first thing that he pulls out is the very black bustier top that hyuck had said you look really good in. sungchan continues digging through your closet until he finds a maroon leather mini skirt with a split hem that you haven’t worn in ages and throws it to you.

you look at the two articles of clothing, unsure. you turn to look at him.

“trust the process!” that is his favourite thing to say. maybe you will. for the sake of not getting blacklisted to a ræd party.

after you brush your teeth and get dressed up, he nods in agreement when you let him back into your dorm.

“you look so good, hyuck is gonna be all over you tonight!” your face burns up again, your heart fluttering in your chest and you glare at him.

“that’s not the point of the outfit.” you deadpan.

“yes, it is.” sungchan insists, pointing at what should be a dresser but is more of a station for you to get ready and take photos of your outfit. you shoot him a dirty look but make your way over anyway. “you’re going to look hot and irresistible and all eyes are going to be on you.”

“i’m not in the beauty inside.” you roll your eyes and pick up the tools to properly enhance your facial features. he shrugs and moves over to your monitor to play some music for you both to get ready for the party.

you can hear him giggling and typing away on his phone while yours tries to throw itself off your bed from vibrating too hard. so the group is active. you take a quick glance at the clock and it’s ticking down to the golden hour. outside, the sky has already darkened, coating the entire city in an ocean of navy and black with speckles of twinkling stars.

you don’t do too much with your makeup, merely going as natural as you can but you grunge up your look with dark lipstick and highlights where it’ll enhance your best features. it’s a night full of partying, drinking, dancing, and making out with hot strangers. people will most likely be too drunk to think twice about what someone else looks like.

“‘kay, i’m done.” you announce out loud, packing up all of the things you used and storing them away. sungchan helps you onto your feet before stepping back to look at you from head to toe. you watch him cautiously, slouching a little but immediately snap to attention when he sighs and stares at you, silently telling you to stand properly. honestly, it feels like your mom is making you show off the outfit she got you.

he makes a circle in the air with his index finger, wanting you to spin for him. you exhale a heavy sigh but you do it begrudgingly and give him the best model turn you can.

“okay, okay, i see you!” he cheers you on and it gives you a much-needed confidence booth. “alright, let’s head to the biggest party hosted by ræd and get bitches on our dicks!”

“god, you are so weird.” you laugh as you grab a small shoulder bag that’ll keep your necessities safe.

when you’re walking to the party, you’re able to spot the sorority from a mile away. there are bright lights and projections into the sky, music thundering and filling up the empty night air, and bass shaking the ground with more vigour with every step that you take.

you know how big ræd parties are but for some reason, you feel a little nervous. you shouldn’t, but you are.

as you walk up to the door, there’s already a lot going on. people are making out on the front lawn on the verge of having sex in front of everyone, you spot a freshman dressed up to impress talking to a very disinterested person that you recognise to be sunwoo from one of your classes. the corner of your lips quirked upward into a smile. you’re definitely going to find him to tease him about it.

“y/n! sungchannie!” ningning’s voice manages to dominate the blaring music and catch your attention. you turn and see her with a drink in hand and her cheeks absolutely flushed. is that the blush or the alcohol’s work?

she’s wearing a royal purple silk bandana top wrapped around her chest and black low-rise ripped shorts. her indigo heeled boots click against the hardwood floor as she rushes over, dyed hair bouncing in its high pony.

“ning, hey!” you and sungchan both speed up to meet her halfway, passing the threshold and immediately melting into a crowd of chatterboxes, drunks, people making out, and dancers. they’re playing some song you don’t recognise but it’s along the genres of r&b and indie pop so naturally, everyone is eating up what the trendsetters are feeding them.

“you made it and you both look like absolute sluts!” she squeals excitedly, pulling you into a hug and you all laugh together, squeezing her a little before you let go. “the alpha neos are here already, you’re both always the latest!” she chastises but she pouts when she gives you both another once-over. “but you look so good! fashionably late, and fuck, you both look so sexy, i’d make out with you right now.”

“kinda swaying towards the other team right now, ning. if i’m swaying back to how my parents wanted me, i’ll let you know.” sungchan plays along with her faux flirting, throwing a wink her way and she laughs brightly.

“okay okay, go mingle, find a hottie to make out with, i don’t care—have fun! sooyoung put me in charge of welcoming people til like, ten, so i have to stay sober til then. i’ll catch up with you guys later. drinks are in the backyard!” after speeding through her brief, she disappears to greet more people. sungchan and you exchange looks before chuckling.

“alright, i’m gonna go get myself my fix.” you tell him. so there really is an open bar in the backyard like what he said earlier. such a weird detail, but it sure as hell makes the party a lot more interesting.

“sounds good. i’m going to look around and decide what i want to do. i never know how to act at parties.” he complains to himself. a short sigh later and he looks where the sea of people beckons him. “i’ll catch you whenever. have fun and stay safe, y/n.” he gives you one final hug before you both part ways.

after snaking through crowds of dancing people and slinking through dimly-lit hallways with people pressed up against walls to make out or smoke, you finally find the backyard behind sliding glass doors. there’s literally an open bar with a bartender out of a food truck and a pool right next to it. your eyes search for any indication that you’ll have to pay for your drinks as you approach the vehicle and when there’s none, you lean up against the counter and flash your best smile to her.

she notices you almost immediately and smiles back as she makes her way to you. her name tag shines with moonbyul embedded into the silver metal. that’s such a pretty name.

“hi there,” she greets you warmly while setting down the glass that she was cleaning. “how can i be of service?”

“can i have two sour plum shots, please?” you request politely. she nods and starts your order.

moonbyul turns around to grab a bottle and starts mixing the drink for you. you watch as if caught in a trance, her movements fluid like a dance. from the corner of your eye, you thought you had seen donghyuck. a quick second take later and it was indeed him. suddenly you’re praying to all of the gods that you know so he won’t try and approach you. he catches your eye and you quickly turn back to the bartender, hoping she’ll hurry up with your drinks.

in a four-storey sorority house full of partygoers and people hungry for a quick lay, there’s not going to be a chance of you bumping into him. right? even if there is, it’s going to be a low percentage. you take another peek in his direction and someone you don’t recognise is chatting him up and you exhale through your lips in relief.

she returns with two shot glasses full of honey-coloured poison and a smile that could literally charm your skirt off in an instant. for a second, you had almost forgotten about him. what kind of sorcery does this woman possess?

“how much is it? i hope you take bank transfers.” you awkwardly laugh but she immediately shakes her head.

“don’t worry about it. it’s four bucks since you’re cute.” heat rushes to your cheeks and you smile shyly, mumbling a quiet word of thanks as you make your payment. you down the two shots back to back and disappear back into the house. there’s barely any time for your body to process the alcohol and you hope that it’ll kick in as soon as you hit the living room where people are dancing.

you catch a whiff of the cannabis and peach-stained air when you walk through the dimly lit hallway again, letting it fill your body as you begin to feel the slight buzz of your liquor. the first person that catches your eye on the dance floor is giselle. there are way too many people in the living room dancing—there’s no way he’ll find you here.

“y/n!” she slurs the final syllable of your name with a lazy grin on her face. her cheeks are flushed with alcohol as she stumbles to you, pushing through the crowd to pull you in. you gladly allow yourself to be welcomed by her, laughing as she gives you a tight hug. “come dance with me!”

she immediately turns around to press her back against your chest and you put your hands on her waist, laughing with your head thrown back. you can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or the people you’re surrounded by but you’re immediately getting drawn into this coven of sirens on the dance floor.

the music fills you from your fingertips, bass reverberating in your bones as you let your body follow the groove. giselle grinds into you, surprising you, but you quickly recover and let her do whatever she wants. you quickly recognise the song to be madison beer’s baby, and you’re devoured with a lust to be a little slutty.

someone taps your shoulder and you turn around to find a very attractive woman that you don’t recognise. she offers to dance with you and you quickly agree as her hands find your waist. your hands loop around her neck and you’re pulling each other impossibly closer.

you mouth the lyrics with a charming smile and heavy-lidded eyes, swaying your hips seductively. her dark oculars watch your every move with the corner of her lips curled upwards in a lazy smirk and god, that looks really hot.

in a quest to make her melt, you take advantage of the loosened tie that hangs around her neck. with one hand you pull her towards you until your faces are mere inches away, teasing a kiss before you let her go and turn around instead.

alcohol, power, and confidence surge through your veins with the heavy bass acting as a guide for the intoxication.

“such a tease,” she hums lowly in your ear. a bright laugh escapes your lips, shivering involuntarily as her nose gently glides along your collarbone before pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade. “you smell so good, too.”

before you can reply, your eyes spot donghyuck from across the dance floor. he visibly lights up when you catch his gaze but you’re stiffening up and immediately searching for an exit. you hate it when he gets like this.

#2: HE CAN GET TOO PERSISTENT

you free yourself from giselle and your hot mysterious stranger, eyes scanning the bodies you’re surrounded by until you find an opening where you can flee. he’s about to make his way to you and that’s when you duck your head and snake your way out.

your heart is beating out of your rib cage as you spot a room with no light on with the door left slightly ajar. without a moment of hesitation, your feet are taking you there and closing the door shut behind you. luckily the room isn’t occupied so you can stay in there for a while.

you stagger slightly in your steps, feeling the gentle buzz of the alcohol underneath your fingertips. a soft sigh escapes you.

there is no way that you can avoid him all night while having fun but there’s no harm in trying. he’s an immovable object but you’re an unstoppable force. you can outwit his unrelenting nature. probably.

what are you even going to do if he finally catches up to you, anyway? the break before summer break has been serving you perfectly when it comes to avoiding donghyuck after that party. however, even as you keep running away from him, he comes haunting you in your dreams and you mean it literally.

you had a dream of him with his tongue down your throat and his large hand shoved into your underwear. when you woke up, you were feeling things. you aren’t supposed to feel anything for him!

needing a quick break, you pull out your phone to check your notifications. unfortunately, even there he’s made an appearance and by the looks of it, he’s not going to go away any time soon. you delete all of your notifications from him in fear you may accidentally press on one of them and then you’ll have to read whatever was sent. and then he’ll start hounding you on why you left him on read.

after exactly three minutes have passed, you take a deep breath and dive back into the party. there’s no reason for you to be nervous. he should be far away from you now, in some corner of the sorority searching for you. you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t feel guilty.

you decide to sneak back to the bar to get yourself another shot or two. the alcohol is good to get you feeling the buzz, but not strong enough to get you drunk. maybe you should have taken four at once earlier.

moonbyul chuckles to herself when she sees you approaching the bar again within the span of an hour. at the very least, you’re glad to see her too. she’s handsomely leaning against the countertop and greets you with a smile.

“welcome back, gorgeous.” she waves before straightening herself and placing her hands on her hips. “i see the sour plum shots barely did anything to you.”

“and if i said i only came back for you?” you flirt brazenly with a grin on your face, watching her features morph as she laughs lightly. it might be the booze but she looks so stunning you’re almost at a loss for words.

“then i’ll get you a free drink on the house because you’re rather eye-catching.” she winks and your plans to be a casanova immediately burn up into flames as your face heats up. “cute.” she mumbles to herself before turning around to make a drink specially for you.

you fiddle with the details on your bag, pinching the fabric as if you’re waiting for donghyuck to literally just show up and you’ll have to face him. you don’t want to. not under any circumstance. you’re not ready for the conversation that comes after, the feelings that may surface after you bottle them up.

your phone starts buzzing in your hand and you see it’s him texting you again. there’s a pinch in your heart and you shove your phone into your bag. you came here to let go; to let loose. you didn’t come here to talk to him about what could possibly be between both of you.

when moonbyul presents you with a pretty glass of a pink drink that is literally glittering, you blow her an air kiss and she winks back at you. you don’t know what’s in it but you hope it’s the right dosage of poison.

you head back into the house and slowly drink it, savouring the taste of the various liquor mixed with fruit juice. it burns smoothly down your throat with a delectable concoction that runs straight to your brain. oh yeah, this is the one.

in the back of your mind, you can hear shotaro and renjun scolding you, telling you to slow down before you fuck yourself over. part of you wants to ignore them but you’d feel too guilty. you love them too much not to listen to them. renjun can get scary when he’s upset, too. a quiet sigh passes your liquor-tinted lips and you ascend to the second level in another feeble attempt to throw donghyuck off your trail.

there’s no direction you’re heading to—you’re just searching for a distraction. you swirl your drink in your hand, letting the music and the alcohol mingle in your veins as your eyes scan the area lazily. one arm extends across your waist, stopping you from pursuing any further and spinning you around to find renjun.

“you’re avoiding hyuck.” that is the first thing that comes out of his lips. his eyes narrow when he sees your pretty glass of poison.

“no i’m not.” you insist with a slight frown. you’re lying straight through your teeth and you both know it.

renjun takes your glass from you and takes a whiff of it and groans at the strong stench of alcohol. is it really that strong? you barely felt anything.

“how much have you had to drink?”

“not enough.” you grumble in annoyance like a kid getting caught stealing cookies from the jar.

“i’m cutting you off.” your eyes widen and you look at him incredulously, ready to protest but his stern gaze makes it clear that it’s not up for debate. your shoulders sink in defeat. he swaps your drink for his and so does his tone for a gentle, kind one. “here, have some water. i heard from ning that you arrived with sungchan almost an hour ago. slow down, please?”

you swallow thickly, bringing the cup to your lips and sipping on the water. you don’t like it but it’s not like you have a choice in the matter.

“fine . . .” you mumble into the cup before taking a generous gulp.

“why are you avoiding him? is this because of what happened at the party?” you’re almost unnerved at how easily he’s able to read you. “you do realise that you are both kind of, i don’t know, you’re both good for each other? in your weird way? nobody understands it but everybody knows it. it’s clear as day, you need to stop fighting it. whatever happened between you and that guy isn’t what’s going to happen between you and hyuck. you know that, right?”

he speaks the truth aloud and it knocks just enough sense into you for you to sober up against your will. you eye him watchfully and he cocks an eyebrow upward.

“god, i hate you so much.” tears threaten to prick the corner of your eyes and renjun chuckles when he realises you’re on the verge of crying. he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small pack of tissues. you let him dab your tears away carefully.

“yeah, yeah,” he chuckles through his nose. “as big of a house this is, it’s still enclosed by four walls. and you look really good tonight. someone as attractive as you shouldn't be crying at a place like this.”

you glare at him as more tears break the dam.

“oi, why the hell are you crying harder?!” he laughs but you know it’s his way of trying to cheer you up. you break a short laugh in between tears. he’s the only one who knows what happened between that guy and yourself. you didn’t really allow yourself to talk to anyone about it.

when you finally manage to calm down, he gives you a tight hug and you take a deep breath. you’re still going to avoid hyuck, though. you’re not ready to face your feelings just yet. even when he’s not here, he’s still so persistent when it comes to you. you wouldn’t be surprised if he manifested this shit.

renjun lets you go with a pat on the head after you finish the cup of water.

you disappear further into the second floor, in search of something to do, perhaps someone to talk to and keep you occupied as you think of your next move. how long are you going to keep avoiding him? that’s a good question. maybe for as long as you possibly can. it’s a tough game to play especially when your opponent is the ever-so-determined lee donghyuck, but you hope for your own victory.

there’s not much on the second floor besides a communal area where people are in a circle smoking joints and a balcony right behind it where you can have a view of the entire campus town. bummed out by the lack of festivities, you head back downstairs to find someone to bother. you haven’t seen mark, giselle, and shotaro. maybe you should try your luck with one of them.

you find yourself lurking along the walls, hoping that you’ll find someone you recognise so you can say hello to them. the dance floor seems a lot less busy than before so you decide to tag in. maybe that mysterious stranger will come back to find you again.

“y/n?” that’s a voice you never want to hear for the rest of your life. you quickly spin around to see the man who led you on and broke your heart with a charming smile on his face.

there he is, standing before you with the same smile like what happened a couple of years back wasn’t a big deal. you’re not the best when it comes to processing your feelings and just shoved them deep down in hopes you’ll forget, but you never did. how could you forget some of the fondest memories you’ve made in your second year of university?

“song mingi.” you exhale through your lips, eyes wide as you take in his appearance. his hair is dark now, compared to the dyed blond he sported then. he’s wearing a shimmery purple button-up with his sleeves rolled to his elbows and the buttons undone halfway, showing off his physique. you swallow thickly. what do you even say to him?

“you look . . . you look really fucking amazing.” he chuckles through his nose. he gestures to the dancing bodies around you but you can’t find it in yourself to move, to tear your gaze away, to breathe. you’re caught in a spell cast by him years ago, reactivated by his mere presence. “can we dance?”

“i . . . mingi–“ you start to protest, but the words are stuck in the back of your throat as you look back at him all doe-eyed and naïve like you did back then.

“just one dance, please? i want to–“

in the blink of an eye, donghyuck’s scent overwhelms your senses. no longer do you see mingi but it’s donghyuck’s broad shoulders blocking most of your view. you don’t know how he managed to wedge himself so quickly between your bodies but he did, and you finally remember to let go of the breath you didn’t even realise you were holding.

“y/n doesn’t want anything to do with you.” his voice is stern and steady, half an octave deeper than how he usually speaks.

“hyuck . . .” your call for him falls on deaf ears.

“who are you–“

“it doesn’t matter. you’ve dealt your damage.” donghyuck takes the opportunity to grab your wrist gently yet firmly to drag you off of the dance floor. your heart starts to beat rapidly against your chest. “y/n, what were you thinking?” he chastises you as he continues leading you far away from the noise.

he’s speaking to you, probably scolding you for freezing up like that, but not a single one of his words registers in your brain. you’re staring—no, admiring—his appearance, the beauty marks on his face, his dishevelled hair, until you both stop at the end of the hallway on the second floor. at least you know you’ll have some privacy. 

“y/n.” he sternly calls out your name and you dazedly snap to attention. “y/n, why have you been ignoring me? was it something i did? something i said?”

“no,” you frown, avoiding eye contact entirely. you start to feel antsy, fingers itching to toy with the hem of your leather skirt. 

“then what is it? i don’t . . . i don’t want to stop being around you.” he sounds so dejected with his voice dying out, merely whispering the last part but you catch them as soon as the words leave his plump lips.

“it’s not . . . no.” you’re choking up, obviously at a loss for words. where do you even begin? “i . . . hyuck, you’re always on my goddamn mind.” you blurt out angrily, not even meaning to sound pissed off. but at that moment, you are. you’re burning from the neck up and your hands form fists at your sides. but you’re not angry at him—you’re angry at yourself.

“what?” he dumbly asks as he gapes at you.

#1: HE BROKE DOWN YOUR WALLS WITHOUT YOU EVEN REALISING IT

you hate him so fucking much.

you clench your jaw, grounding yourself before you continue. if you’re going to do this whole emotions thing, you’re going to do it your way. all of your feelings are climbing their way to the top, freeing themselves from the once-unbreakable confines as they race to the back of your throat. you look at him with pleading eyes to apologise quietly before you turn away.

“you . . . fuck, lee donghyuck. do you have any idea what you do to me? you . . . you’re so fucking annoying. you get under my skin. you make me wanna chuck a metal ball at your head half the time.” you start pacing back and forth, sometimes pausing to make eye contact with him before you’re back on your rant. “you’re so insufferable with your stupid comments—you always have something to say. always so fucking loud, always so– ugh!” you throw your hands up in the air in frustration.

“i-i’m sorry, i didn’t realise i was–“

“shut the fuck up.” you snap immediately, turning sharply to him with a pointed finger. there’s a pause and you realise just how livid you sound. you apologise to him softly and drop your hands to your sides. one quick glance at him and it literally breaks your heart. you were supposed to harbour your feelings so it wouldn’t put you both in a bad spot.

you sigh and run your fingers through your hair. so now you’ve done it. you’ve told him how irritating he can be, but you still haven’t told him the most crucial part yet. he’s been looking at you this whole time, waiting for you to continue and clinging on to every word you’ve said as if he’ll crash and fall if he doesn’t. you take a deep breath.

“despite all of that shit you somehow make me . . . fuck, you make me feel happy.” your voice cracks as you turn to look at him. your heart is trembling and so are your hands. “you . . . you make me laugh. you fucking– ugh, i feel safe around you. i can’t even be properly fucking mad at you. i don’t– do you know how fucking annoying that is? i hate you so goddamn much because you managed to tear through these walls i built without even me knowing it. you made your own space with me in my sanctuary and holy fucking shit, i hate you so much because i think i’m fucking in love with you.”

you said it.

“y/n.” he chuckles dryly and reaches his hand out to get your attention. you gnaw on your bottom lips, already stressing out over the word vomit. you desperately turn away and refuse to make eye contact with him. “y/n baby, look at me, please?”

every time he says your name, it’s like he’s holding the weight of a god’s name with it. he says it so softly and sweetly you want to break down and cry because nobody has ever said your name like that before. and the pet name? god, you’re melting but you don’t want to let go. you’re holding on to the last bits of control that you have.

donghyuck steps closer to you slowly like you’re a wild animal cornered by something foreign. he’s calm and calculated with his movements, calloused hand reaching to cup your cheek and you melt at the warmth of his touch, eyes fluttering as you let him guide your gaze to meet his.

“y/n, my angel,” he softly whispers. “i didn’t realise you already feel the same. if i’d known earlier, i wouldn’t have waited so long.” your brows furrow slightly, obviously confused.

“what?”

“i wasn’t sure you’d even look my way, i thought you were just indulging me like everyone else does. when renjun told me what happened between you and mingi, i swore to myself to never let any harm come to you, ever.” he takes a deep breath before continuing. “and fuck, i’m so happy that i make you happy like that. i just– fuck, y/n, you deserve to be happy. you deserve to be spoiled, you deserve to be loved, i can’t believe you closed yourself off because of one asshole. so please, please, i fucking beg—let me make you happy for as long as i can. let me love you for as long as i can. let me be your safe haven for as long as i can because i know i’ll fucking regret it if i don’t.”

“hyuck?” you whisper.

“yeah, baby?” god, you want to hear that every second of every single day for the rest of your life if you could. he notices your obvious reaction to it and he laughs quietly. “you like it when i call you baby?”

“fuck yeah, i do,” you nod. “kiss me.”

“thought you’d never ask.” he grins widely, dark eyes glimmering in pure ecstasy.

donghyuck’s left hand snakes down to your hip and pins you down to the nearest wall as soon as your lips meet. his are just as soft as you’d imagine them to be, the cool metal of his lip ring a stark contrast that sends an involuntary shiver up your spine. he’s gentle as he kisses you, savouring the liquor on your lips as you do his, eyes fluttering close as you wrap your hands around his neck to pull him closer to you.

a soft groan leaves his lips when you suckle on his bottom lip and his reaction causes heat to stir in your core. motivated by a hunger to get closer to him, one of your hands reaches down to loop and finger through his belt loop to pull his hips closer to yours. he instantly picks up what you’re putting down, pushing yours closer to his as he decides to crane your cheek to the side.

his lips leave yours and you whine quietly, already missing the mix of hot and cold, but it quickly turns into a sigh of pleasure when he starts searching for your weak spots along the canvas of your neck. within a heartbeat, he finds one of them and he nibbles and suckles on the spot the second he hears you sighing in pleasure again.

“hyuck . . .” you whimper his name and he growls into your hot skin. immediately you feel something poke against your thigh, which sets off fireworks in your rapidly beating heart and a rush of heat straight to your core.

“don’t say my name like that,” donghyuck warns, voice dropping an octave lower. “i won’t be able to control myself if you do, baby.” with the way he’s licking fat stripes and sinking his teeth into your skin to draw out the lewdest sounds from your mouth, you don’t want him to be tame.

you want him to lay his claim on you until the heavens bear both your sins.

your fingers run into his dark tresses, guiding him to the exact spot that’ll make your knees weak. he hums in approval when you roll your hips against his but he grunts when you moan out his name again. the grip he has on your hip tightens as if warning you even more as he continues to discover where to touch, tease, kiss, and bite until you’re putty in his hands.

“hyuck, please,” you whisper in his ear. you’re ready to tease him and push his buttons into getting what you want but he shuts you with a searing kiss, pushing you flat against the wall behind. the mixture of his hot lips and cold piercing sends your head into a tailspin as you moan into his mouth.

“you know exactly what you’re doing when you say my name like that, don’t you?” he brushes his thumb against your cheekbones fondly yet his sweet words betray the tint of condescension that laces his voice. you brazenly grin up at him. of course you know exactly what you’re doing.

donghyuck leads his thumb to your lips this time, tilting your chin up towards his face. he doesn’t hide the fact that his eyes are zeroed in on that feature of yours when you take his thumb past and into your mouth.

his gaze darkens as you generously suck on the digit, tongue swirling around it and pulling it in with every suck. the corners of your lips curl upward into a smirk knowing that he’s doing nothing to hide the boner straining in his pants. you don’t want to wait anymore; not when you can feel heat looking in your underwear until you have to press your thighs together to relieve the ache.

even when he’s entranced by you, he doesn’t let anything slide. the second he notices your plush thighs rubbing against each other, he pushes his knee between and bumps it against your core. you look up at him and he’s smirking lazily at you.

“does my baby need something from me?” you ought to melt right there caged within his arms from the way he purrs the pet name so lovingly into your ear.

“i want you.” to emphasise your statement, you grind yourself down against his knee and a timid moan falls from your lips. “i need you, hyuckie.”

“fuck, y/n,” he groans, dropping his head to your shoulder. both of his hands find purchase on your hips, guiding you as you grind against it, relishing in the friction against his pants. it feels good but it’s not enough—you need all of him. you want him to devour you until he’s coming back for more even after he’s had his fill.

“hyuck, i’m begging you,” you plead in desperation. “fuck me before i find mingi to do it.”

in an instant, you know you’ve pushed the right buttons to get him to act on his desires and throw caution into the wind. he grabs your wrist and immediately finds the nearest open bedroom. you follow dumbfoundedly with your lips parted, entranced with how he switched from being teasing to taking command. it’s kinda hot.

“you’re gonna regret ever saying that, baby.” he warns when he finds an unlocked door, flicking on the light switch. you don’t recognise the room but you’re not given the option to observe when he pulls you in and locks the door as he pins you against the wood, lips finding yours and uniting you both with a hot kiss.

you mewl into his mouth when he takes both your wrists and pins them above your head with one hand, the other pawing at you through your clothes. you had chosen to not wear a bra that night since the top gives enough support and you do not regret your decision at all when he finds your perked nipples to pinch them gently. the contact makes your jaw hang loose with a moan caught in the back of your throat as he slides his tongue in to taste the alcohol that you previously intoxicated yourself with.

your hips find a mind of their own, rolling into his to quietly beg for some friction where your pussy is throbbing for attention.

donghyuck lets go of your wrists so he can make quick work of your clothes, stripping you down until you’re left in nothing but your underwear while he remains fully dressed. his mouth detaches from you and before you can dare to complain, he wraps his lips around a pert bud so he can hear you moan for him. he smiles around your nipple, enjoying the symphony of sweet cries coming from you as he swirls his tongue while one hand takes the other between his thumb and index finger to tug and tease.

“hyuckie . . .” you sigh softly just as your fingers run through his dark tresses to gently pull at them, every little ministration doing nothing to help the ache between your legs. as if he knows that your cunt is feeling neglected, he dives his other hand into your underwear and hums in satisfaction at what he finds. he releases your breast with a wet pop, rising back up to find your lips for a sweet kiss.

“who are you so wet for, hm?” his fingers reach between your lips and you can hear how wet you are, blood rushing to your cheeks at the lewd sound. “is it mingi?” he cocks an eyebrow upward, practically spitting out your ex’s name with venom when he finds your throbbing clit and gently pinches it.

“n-no! fuck, no, never!” you squeal at the jolt of pain and pleasure sending a shockwave straight to your brain. you shake your head to let him know that it’s not mingi, wanting to let him know that it’ll only be him who makes you this wet, but your throat runs dry as soon as he sinks his middle finger in.

“no?” he echoes, slowly sliding his finger in and out of your cunt to watch you scrunch your face up in pleasure. “then who’s it for?”

your eyes flash open when he completely halts his movements. his eyes widen too but in faux surprise to mock you and god, you really want to choke him for that. you’re about to taste heaven but he’s purposely dragging it away from you.

“who’s it for, baby?”

“it’s for you, asshole.” you bite back and this time, he’s truly in shock with his eyebrows raising at your sudden outburst. when it finally registers in your brain what you had just called him, you gasp quietly, ready to apologise but the air gets knocked out of your lungs before you can.

donghyuck’s finger slips from your underwear, hands firm on your hips, and he spins you around to pin you down to the bed. from beneath him, you watch in a mix of trepidation and arousal as he rips the fabric apart with his bare hands. you had expected him to throw it over his shoulders but he pockets it in his pants instead.

“h-hyuck, i-i’m sorry, didn’t mean to–”

a gentle, wet smack against your clit shuts you up instantly. it’s another jolt of pleasure that makes heat rush to your core even more, the sensitive bundle of nerves begging for attention with a soft throb.

“since i’m an asshole,” he begins, licking his lips. your focus immediately zones in on his silver lip ring shining as he gets onto his knees. your gaze flits back to his and his eyes are fully blown with greed and a feral hunger reserved for you. knowing that you have him so worked up like this sends another kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering in your stomach and they burn into little flames of lust that melt into your body. “you’re not cumming until i say that you can.”

he grabs the back of your thighs and dives into your cunt, thumbs pulling your pussy lips apart as he starts to lap at your juices like a man starved. trickles of electricity run up your spine as your fingers fall to his hair, grabbing onto whatever you can as you throw your head back in pure pleasure.

the heavy, wet muscle sharpens at the tip to flick at your clit while two fingers dip into your heat. your body burns, hips lifting off the bed only to be forcefully restrained again by his arms. he curls his fingers as he sets a steady pace to relish in the way your walls wrap around them, wondering just how good his cock will feel when he finally fucks your brains out. you’re not holding yourself back either, tugging at his hair and moaning his name with bits of apologies caught in between stammers but he pays no attention to you.

“fuck, hyuck, right there!” you gasp, clamping down around him when he hooks his digits and his fingertips brush against the spot that calls for your orgasm. he wraps his lips around your clit, suckling gently, and you can feel him smile when a high-pitched moan of his name falls from you. “shit, oh my god–”

he starts to thrust his fingers in and out of you at a rougher pace, making scissoring motions to stretch you out only for your walls to stubbornly tighten around him. a knot starts to form in your belly without warning and you’re now fearing what he’ll do when you’re going to cum. yet that fear turns you on even more, a high-pitched cry bouncing off the walls when he sucks on your clit stronger.

as much as you try to roll your hips into his face to feel him deeper, he pins you in place, not allowing you any movement and you tug at his hair in annoyance. your eyes fall down to look at him and you could instantly come undone from the view.

donghyuck already has his gaze fixed on you, watching your every expression and you melt underneath his hold with a meek mewl. he cocks an eyebrow upward at the same time he harshly suckles on your bud, drawing out a louder moan of pleasure from you. his lips let go of it, choosing to roll his tongue languidly while his fingers relentlessly tease your g-spot.

“h-hyuck, please, i’m sorry, i’m sorry!” you manage to cry out, the knot tightening and threatening to break free. “i’m gonna cum, please, i need to cum so bad, i’ll be good, i’m sorry!” tears prick the corners of your eyes and he rests the side of his face against the inside of your thigh, pouting in mock pity as he starts fucking his fingers deeper and faster into your cunt.

“aww, you’re gonna cum?” he coos, laughing when you nod desperately and clear drops tumble down your cheeks. he’s such an asshole. you want to take the reins and make him pay for it but all you can think of is how hot he is when he’s mocking you like this. it doesn’t stop your stomach from twisting, your walls from clenching around his digits, and your body aching for sweet release. “i dunno y/n, do you deserve it?”

“yes, fuck, i do, i promise!” your back arches when his fingertips rub directly against your g-spot, fingers slipping from his hair to grab at the sheets beneath you. “please, i’ll be so– i’ll be so good for you, hyuck, i only want you. nobody else, please!”

you’re doing your best to keep your orgasm at bay but he’s pushing you further to your edge to test just how far you can go with a mischievous grin on his face. you hear fabric getting pushed around but you can barely think of anything else when his fingers are toying with your cunt and clit. your orgasm creeps closer and closer, threatening to come apart on his fingers alone but you want to cum around his cock. you gnaw on your bottom lip in an ardent effort to control yourself but donghyuck had other plans for you.

he pulls his fingers from you and immediately shoves his cock into your awaiting cunt.

the stretch burns perfectly as you struggle to accommodate his size, cockhead hot and heavy as it generously kisses your g-spot. that was it. as soon as he sinks himself fully, you’re cumming around his cock with a piercing cry of his name, back arching into the air as your entire body trembles. it hits you like a rippling wave, goosebumps set alight along your arms as you form white rings around him.

“oh fuck, shit, oh my fucking– fuck, y/n, baby you’re so fucking tight.” a slew of profanities tumbles from his lips as he stays completely still, not wanting to hurt you but his thumb taps gently at your clit as he helps you through your orgasm. he waits for you to come down from your high, taking that moment to pull his tie-dye shirt over his head and toss it in a corner to be forgotten.

you pant heavily underneath him, eyes half-lidded as he leans down to pepper soft kisses all over your face. it’s a strange feeling to feel his hot lips against your own burning skin but the coolness of his lip ring manages to give you a small slice of relief. with his clean hand, he pushes away the locks of your hair that block his view of your face, chuckling to himself when you look up at him with pleading doe eyes. you finally have a taste of him and all it does is leave you wanting more.

“did my fingers feel that good, baby?” he hums against your forehead before kissing you. you nod dazedly in reply. your throat feels far too dry to be able to say anything so you do your best by swallowing your saliva. “don’t pass out just yet, pretty. we’ve barely started.”

you whine, throwing your head back from the teasing at the same time your walls clench around his cock from his words. you feel so full with him sheathed fully inside of you, tip kissing the bundle of nerves deep inside of you effortlessly that even the slightest movement can make you squirm beneath him.

“hyuck,” you sigh quietly. your hands reach up to cup his strikingly handsome face, watching closely as he leans into you to kiss you again. god, you’re never going to get tired of his lips on you. you gaze deep into his eyes when he pulls away for air, “make me yours. i want all of you.”

“i’m gonna make sure everyone knows you’re mine, baby.” it’s a promise that you know he intends to keep when his lips meet yours once more, hips slowly rolling up against yours. you moan into his mouth, eyelids fluttering shut and you wrap your legs around his torso to pull him closer. he starts to slowly withdraw his cock from your cunt and begin at a slow and steady pace, being mindful of the fact that you had just come down from your first high of the night. “god, i didn’t think you’d feel this fucking tight. you’re so much better than what i’d imagined.”

“you touched yourself to me?” what leaves your throat is a mix of a gasp and a moan, walls stubbornly clenching around him when he pushes himself back into you.

“how could i not?” donghyuck scoffs through his nose. one of his hands snakes between both your bodies as he languidly thrusts in and out, rolling your clit underneath his thumb so your slick will lubricate his cock as if you’re not already soaking wet for him. “you’re the person of my fucking dreams. remember that shirt of mine you stole recently, baby? yeah? i came so hard when i fucked my fist wishing it was your tight little pussy.”

you whine at his words, images of him touching himself in his room to the thought of you appearing in your mind so clearly that your walls clamp around him. he starts to speed up while he searches for the right angle that’ll make you scream your lungs out for him.

“yeah? y’like that, baby? love the way that i touch myself to you like a damn pervert?” he punctuates the last word with a particularly harsh thrust upwards into your pussy and you gasp for air, eyes rolling back and toes curling in. “right there?”

“fuck, yes!”

he throws one of your knees over his shoulders and steadies himself at a comfortable position. he withdraws his cock from you until his cockhead is barely wrapped by your twitching hole before he starts to fuck into you. his name is ripped from your throat as he sets a brutal pace, hips pistoning in and out mercilessly, tufts of trimmed hair rubbing against your clit. you’re still sensitive from your previous orgasm and you know it’s not going to take too much for you to cum again.

beads of sweat drip down from his hairline, sliding down to his chiselled cheekbone to fall onto the sheets beneath you. you feel every thrust deep in your stomach, getting absolutely drunk on the feeling of his cock filling you up and stretching your walls beyond comprehension. every harsh thrust and drag of his cock in and out of your cunt sends you closer and closer to the edge as tears spring from the corners of your eyes.

“does my cock feel that good, baby?” donghyuck croons sweetly.

“yeah, s’fucking good,” you slur dazedly and hope that it makes even an iota of sense to him.

“mingi won’t ever be able to fuck you like this.” he growls and suddenly his thrusts are getting rougher. you guess that it’s motivating him further to plough into you, bed creaking with every light bounce of your body underneath him. “nah. he’s never gonna make you scream like i do. he’s never gonna treat you half as well as i do, isn’t that right, pretty baby?”

tears flow down your hot cheeks, blurring your vision but you can see how his teeth toy with his lip ring, equally agitated and pissed that you’d been treated badly. you mewl his name weakly to try and snap him out of it but he doesn’t hear it at all. instead, he readjusts your position.

donghyuck presses both your knees to your chest with his hands, mounting the bed and achieving a higher angle. you look up at him, anticipating his next move. all he does is give you a sweet kiss on the forehead and a playful smirk before he’s snapping his hips against yours again. the new position allows him to reach deeper than he previously did as he looms over you with a satisfied grin on his face, watching you writhe underneath him from the pleasure that overwhelms you.

“nobody’s gonna fuck you like i do.” he wraps his fingers around your throat and presses down at the right spots to restrict your airflow. your head falls back as it only emphasises how every touch lights your body on fire, every rough thrust rendering you speechless and all you can do is gasp and moan and whine for him. “yeah? am i fucking my pretty baby so good they can’t even speak?”

you try to say his name but all that comes out is a croak that barely resembles it. when he releases your throat, you almost whine out at the loss but you’re not given the chance. his hand snakes between your connected bodies to roll your clit under his thumb, eager to encourage your orgasm.

“you look so pretty when you’re all fucked out, baby,” he coos sweetly. the combination of his cock drilling into you mercilessly and fingers working to toy with your sensitive bud sends your head into a tailspin. a familiar knot forms in your lower belly once more and you can tell he’s chasing his own orgasm. all that fills your mind is how good his cock feels deep inside of you and how you want him to fill you up til you’re leaking. “so, so damn pretty. an absolute angel looking like this underneath me, i could fuck you all day and all night now that i have you. i’ll make sure everyone knows you’re mine and i’m yours, i’ll make sure any person who even thinks inappropriate things about you, i’ll fuck you right in front of them to make it clear that you’re not up for grabs.”

his words sink into your skin and you melt but your walls flutter around him which makes him laugh dryly.

“fuck, you’re so naughty. you clenched around me when i said i’d fuck you in front of others.” you whine, head tipping back as your orgasm creeps closer. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you? should’ve known you’re a nasty whore but that’s okay—i know you’re only a whore for my cock, angel.”

“‘m gonna cum, hyuckie!” you gasp, back arching as the knot tightens further.

“yeah? i’m close, too.” he pants hotly from above. “go on and cum around my cock, baby. make a mess for me, yeah? prove to me that i’m all yours.” the pet name is all that you need to come undone.

this orgasm hits you harder than the last, hot white spreading all over your body as your shoulders stiffen up. his thrusts are getting sloppier as he chases after his own high, cussing and whispering your name between grunts and groans.

“shit, i’m gonna cum–”

“inside!” you quickly capture his attention. his lips part but you continue before he can speak. “cum inside, i want to feel all of you, hyuckie.” with the gentle rasp in your voice and the pleading look on your face, he curses and a high-pitched moan is caught in the back of his throat as he spills his hot seed inside of you. his hips stammer and come to a still, groaning your name with his lids squeezed shut.

“fuck . . .” he gasps and wraps your legs around his waist so he can lean forward. your trembling hands reach up to cup his face, smiling fondly as you bring him in for a sweet, chaste kiss. “why’d it take us this long?”

“i wanna blame my emotional constipation,” you joke lightly and he laughs through his nose.

“it’s one of my favourite qualities about you.” donghyuck nuzzles his nose against yours, stealing yet another kiss from you. “do you know whose room we just fucked in?”

you blink blearily and look around as you tug him down so you can both cuddle for a bit. he follows your lead and slowly pulls out but quickly panics when his cum starts leaking out.

“oh fuck, i shouldn’t have ripped your undies for souvenir–” your realisation dawns upon you like a bucket of cold water when you finally recognise whose room this is. you start to smack his arm repeatedly while you hurriedly try to get onto your wobbly feet. “baby, what’s the rush?” he quickly catches you when you almost fall, failing to see what’s causing your state of alarm.

“we’re in ning’s room!”

“oh, shit.”

thank you for reading the first installation of the series BEFORE THE LAST FLOWER BLOOMS. if you enjoyed it, i would love to hear your thoughts in reblogs, comments, and / or chat about it in my ask box! check out my other works or the bonus piece while you wait for the next installation, I KINDA WANNA BE YOURS.

#lee donghyuck smut #haechan smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #hua writes #h.dream #h.donghyuck #h.smut #h.fluff #╭ ❝ series ❞ / before the last flower blooms

[cilil]

TSS2022 advent calendar [nsfw]

✮Treat Gift for Day 12 - Wrapping & Unwrapping Presents✮

His entire bed was covered in white and golden tulle and satin, a stark contrast against the black sheets, and in the middle of it was Mairon, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. A lascivious smirk was on his lips, painted red and dusted with gold, and his fiery locks were loose, free from the confines of the intricate braids he usually wore when he worked in his forge. 

Pairing: Melkor/Mairon | Angbang Synopsis: When Melkor returns home, he finds a present waiting for him in his chambers. Featuring: Crossdressing Mairon, married dork lords in love, totally normal and appropriate use of titles such as "my lord" and "master" PWP/smut {minors DNI}

Also available on AO3

@officialtolkiensecretsanta

It was only on rare occasions that Melkor found himself rendered speechless, yet the surprise that awaited him upon returning to his chambers after one of his many travels through Arda's wilderness was certainly one of these moments. 

"Welcome home, my lord."

His entire bed was covered in white and golden tulle and satin, a stark contrast against the black sheets, and in the middle of it was Mairon, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. A lascivious smirk was on his lips, painted red and dusted with gold, and his fiery locks were loose, free from the confines of the intricate braids he usually wore when he worked in his forge. 

It took a moment for Melkor to tear his gaze away from the gorgeous Maia resting on his bed long enough to realize that the mass of fabric was, in fact, a dress. Creamy white satin wrapped Mairon's upper body in a soft but firm embrace, held up by a single strap. A golden bow rested on his right shoulder, holding the dress together, and a veil of translucent golden tulle was attached to it, covering his arm. 

His left arm and shoulder, however, were exposed, and Melkor caught himself staring at the wonderful curves of firm muscles underneath ivory skin, holding perfectly still for him. Golden bracelets adorned his arm, shaped like snakes curling around it, jealously guarding the treasure, the piece of art that was his favorite Maia. 

A golden ribbon was wrapped around his waist, decorated with another bow. The long, flowing skirt had a–in Melkor's opinion rather conveniently placed–slit reaching all the way up to his hip, allowing him to catch a glimpse of his long, muscular legs and thin golden chains around his ankles. 

"Is this present to your liking, master?" Mairon crooned. "Would you like to unwrap it?" 

Melkor took a deep breath, buying himself a few more seconds to regain his ability to speak. 

"I am about to tear it right off of you," he said. His voice was low and the shadows seemed to darken as he stalked towards the bed, eyes starting to glow with excitement, yet Mairon was completely unafraid. He laughed in the Dark Vala's face and tilted his head to the side, leaving his neck carelessly exposed. 

"I would prefer if you didn't destroy my clothes so I may wear them again for you in the future, but if you cannot help yourself I won't object..." 

"No promises, little flame," Melkor said, leaning down to tilt his chin upwards so he could look at him. 

"You are irresistible and you know it." 

Pursed red lips were practically begging to be kissed, and he gladly acquiesced while sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

"Now let me see..." 

Melkor reached for the ribbon around Mairon's waist first, managing to remove it after a few experimental tugs, and tossed it aside. Pleased with his success, he went for the bow on his shoulder next, stealing another kiss in the process. His lips curled into a wicked smile. 

"Such lovely packaging, little flame, though I wouldn't have expected anything less from you." 

"You know I love to please you, my lord." 

Mairon let out a small purr when Melkor slowly pulled down the dress, careful not to tear it with his sharp fingernails. 

"Now what do we have here? A gorgeous Maia, in my bed, all mine. Whatever shall we do with you, hmm?" 

In lieu of a response, Mairon wiggled out of the dress as soon as went past his hips and pulled up his legs, the chains around his ankles tinkling softly.

"I will have you know, my dearest lord and husband... I prepared your gift for further use." 

"Is that so? I shall have a look, then." 

Melkor eagerly tossed the dress aside and knelt down in front of the Maia, grabbing his thighs and pushing them up to his chest to inspect his backside. And indeed–a ruby was snugly squeezed between Mairon's ass cheeks, decorating the handle of a toy he had inserted into his tight passage to keep it stretched. 

"What a needy little thing you are," he purred and took the ruby between two fingers to push the toy deeper inside, delighting in the moan that followed. 

"You couldn't help yourself, could you? You were so desperate to have something inside of you again, you couldn't even wait for my cock."

"Mmh... yes, master..." Mairon admitted and batted his eyelashes at him. 

"Will you not take care of me?" 

"Oh, don't worry, my precious. It would be quite rude of me not to appreciate such a lovely present."

Melkor pulled out the toy as slowly as he could, watching how Mairon's toes curled as it stretched his hole on the way out. A needy whine escaped his lips, lamenting the loss of the delicious pressure inside him, and he quickly inserted a finger. Indeed, his husband had done a wonderful job preparing himself; the skin between his ass cheeks was still glistening with oil and his hole was well-lubricated and begging to be filled. 

Nearly tearing his robes in the process, Melkor wasted no time freeing his cock, already hard and eager to claim his present, and placed the Maia's legs on his shoulders. A pleased hum vibrated in his throat while he pushed inside the tight heat awaiting him, culminating in a low groan when his cock was fully sheathed. 

"You are beautiful like this, all ready for me and begging to be taken," he said, and leaned forward to once again capture his husband's lips with his own. Slow, sensual thrusts had Mairon moaning into the kiss. 

Master... please... his voice whispered in his mind, but Melkor merely chuckled. 

Be careful what you wish for, or else I may gift-wrap you myself and fuck you until you find yourself unable to walk for the next days.

A well-timed movement of his hips, a breathless moan. 

You would love that, wouldn't you? he taunted, feeling waves of lust through their marriage bond, grabbed Mairon's wrists to pin them above his head. 

Naughty little Maia...

Unable to hold back any longer, Melkor leaned forward, forcing the fire spirit's legs upwards until his knees were pressed against his chest and thrust into him with the full force of his Valarin strength. The bed creaked in protest, yet its noises were drowned out by the sound of Mairon's melodious voice. 

"Yes... my lord... yes, please... ah–!" 

It was music to Melkor's ears, a cacophony of moans, screams and pleas drawn from his husband's lips by him and him alone, the most wonderful song he had ever heard in his eternal existence; so full of passion, love and devotion, more beautiful to him than even the Ainulindalë, making his own fëa sing. 

"Master, please... I can't–"

Before Mairon could finish his sentence, a particularly vicious thrust sent him over the edge and he came with a soft cry of pleasure, spilling his seed all over his stomach and the bedsheets surrounding him. 

Despite his best efforts to resist, the clenching of strong muscles around his cock felt too good and Melkor followed suit, falling into an abyss of pleasure, locked in the heated embrace of the Maia's exquisite fána. Oh, he simply loved to fuck his husband into oblivion, making him cum from penetration alone, and nothing in Arda could ever compare to the raw pleasure he felt every time he succeeded. 

Mairon slowly opened his eyes, looking up at the Vala. 

"Well, my lord? Was it a threat or a promise that you are going to gift-wrap me yourself?" he purred. 

"Both." 

Melkor sat down on his heels and pulled out. 

"But first you will clean the sheets like the good Maia you are, isn't that right, little flame?" 

Such an order would normally result in Mairon being outraged at being given such a lowly task, yet he knew full well it would be another great opportunity to seduce his husband. He parted his lips ever so slightly to wet them with his tongue. 

"Of course, master, as you wish." 

#tss2022 #tss2022 advent calendar #melkor #mairon #morgoth #sauron #angbang #melkor x mairon #melkor/mairon #silm #silmarillion #silmarillion fanfiction #tolkien fanworks #tolkien fanfiction #tolkien #cílil writes #my writing

[sleepytoycollection]

Disney Store Encanto Set Review

(Disney Store Encanto Deluxe set $99.99)

Been a while since I did one of these, but my excitement over this set and desire to show it off have won out over laziness. Let’s dive in:

There’s a really pretty render of Mirabel on the front.

But other than that the box is fairly plain.

Gradient, logo, butterflies. Legal disclaimers. Nothing fancy, so I skipped right on to getting them out. 

It was mostly the bog standard tabs, but they also used twist ties? Only for the leopard, but still, twist ties? In 2022? I wasn’t aware toy manufacturers still used these. Then again I barely buy anything brand new anymore, what do I know. 

Antonio has a serious case of box hair:

Not helped by the fact he had a head tab keeping his head squished to the box. I’ll have to style this properly after this review. 

I got everyone else out of the box, and this is what I was left with: 

Four dolls, 3 animal friends, and an accordion. 

Let’s take a closer look; we’ll start with the main girl herself, Mirabel.

She’s pretty cute, though her face is just a little... off to me. Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and her eyebrows make it look like she’s about to shift expressions. 

Her dress is nice though, being a fairly complex piece in the movie, I understand why they had to simplify it the way they did. It works for me.

The dress is printed all the way around, and closes with velcro. 

The glasses have actual lenses, and she has removeable earrings I forgot to photograph. I do love how her embroidered butterfly is made into a 3-d piece by being a plastic button instead of just printed. It’s a nice touch. 

Her accordion is nicely painted, and the straps are nice and flexible, making it pretty easy to pose her with it. 

Her shoe details are painted, and it really makes them pop. I love when I see painted accessories, it can really elevate the way a doll looks. 

Okay, let’s get to the body. Mirabel uses a brand new sculpt, here’s it next to the remains of a Moana body that I had leftover from a custom:

While the two are definitely similar, they’re not exactly the same either. 

Her articulation is... okay. It’s not terrible. I can work with it, but it’s a little more limited than I’d have liked. She sits a lot better than the usual Disney Princess body does, but her knees don’t get any closer than this. Her arms can only barely get to a right angle, and her wrists barely move at all. 

I will probably carve them out a little, but it’s frustrating that Disney refuses to do anything about these issues, even on dolls that have brand new body sculpts. 

Here’s a comparison between the a Mattel curvy and an original barbie MTM bodies. 

Alright, so that’s Mirabel, Let’s do Isabela next:

She’s gorgeous, she really is. Not a fan of all the glitter on her dress, but aside from that, it’s constructed well. 

Got a case of box hair herself. nothing a boil wash won’t fix though. 

She’s got a cute flower hairclip, her earrings are removeable, and overall she’s fairly nice. 

Her articulation is better than Mirabel’s, but only by a little bit. Her knees can get a little closer, and can touch her face. 

Here’s a close up, I really want to take this glitter off. It makes the fabric so stiff. 

Close up of her shoes. 

And it’s her turn to stand next to the Curvy and Original MTMs. Her body is basically the same as Mirabel’s just a little taller. 

Alright, here’s the one you all wanted to see. Luisa:

Here she is! 

She’s so cute, and her expression makes her look like such a sweetie. I love it. 

She’s got weights as her skirt pattern! I never noticed it during the movie. That’s why I love dolls so much, I can look at all the details like this. 

She has a fancy up-do with a ribbon, it’s rock hard with product. Understandable, but also I want to wash it and redo it I think. 

Let’s see what that body looks like.

Okay. I love that she exists. I really do. BUT. Ans I hate to burst the bubble; she has the worst articulation of all the girls (or at least mine does). 

Her arms are fine, her wrists and elbow are great. I’m not a fan of the cut neck articulation, but I could’ve lived with it. But see how I’m holding her down?

If I don’t she won’t sit, something’s wrong with her hips. They don’t want to move. They feel stuck, and pop back into a “standing” position when I let go. 

This is the best she sits without assistance. 

The best her leg will stay up on it’s own. I’m honestly angry about this. I bought the set for Luisa, and her hips don’t work. I feel like I’m going to have to remove her legs to fix it, and that suck major ass. 

This is a body type I’ve never seen in a doll before, look at how huge she is! I love it, but she can’t move the way she’s supposed to. This is an $100 set.

After that I had to pause and get myself together. Ok. Lets see the girls bodies together.

Last but not least, let’s look at little Antonio:

What a cutie.

Even with bed head he’s adorable lol. 

Here’s his little animal friends:

None of them have articulation, but they’re pretty solid vinyl and painted nicely. The only defect I saw was some flash on the toucan’s tai;.

I can trim that with an exacto pretty easy. 

Here’s his outfit. 

The shirt and pants are one piece, and the vest is unhemmed. His necktie is actually tied around his neck, no velcro in the back, so I left it on as I didn’t want to have to retie it. 

Here’s what his body looks like. 

Like Luisa, he has some issues. His arms are incredible stiff, and I struggled to get them to move. 

Here he is next to a Chelsea and gymnast Stacie body. 

and a Animator’s Mini Conderella.

So that’s the set. Here’s the Madrigals dressed and back together. 

Final thoughts:

There’s a lot of hits and misses with this set. The clothes are made well, I love the painted accessories, and can appreciate the diversity of body types. 

Yet, the articulation is lacking, and in some cases, defective. That doesn’t speak well to quality control. I don’t like the glitter on Isa’s dress, and I’m not in love with Mira’s face. I feel the need to fix everyone’s hair. 

This is an $100 set. That’s a lot of money for something with big, hard to fix issues. I don’t regret buying them, I do love them, but I cannot ignore how irritated I am about Luisa’s hips not working. 

If you want this set, be prepared to deal with defects. Buy with caution. 

#encanto #dolls #disney store #Disney dolls #doll review

[ktheist]

girls like you [don’t] run ‘round with guys like me | m

characters. popular!reader x shy!jimin

genre. college au. rich kids au. fwb au. eventual ceo au. eventual racer au.

words. 4k

warnings. 18+

note. this is a repost. tumblr messed up my exposure last time. this fic didn’t show up in search and it’s probably a third post of mine that ends up like this. this one probably won’t either but posting bc someone might see it and like it.

x

It’s easy to tell when Park Jimin is in love.

Unlike Kim Seokjin, his eccentric, dad joke-loving friend, Jimin would only wear the pastel pink when he’s feeling giggly and shy and mushy inside.

The source of said feelings being either the barista he goes to get his daily dose of coffee from, or the girl at the library he studies at during finals or well, right now it’s the girl he’s fucking almost every day of the week - you.

“What are you doing?” Seokjin looks at him like he just dumped a spoonful of salt in a broth that needs a little, teensy bit of sugar.

Or his face seems to say that as he goes on, “she’s a mean girl. She’s mean.”

Jimin isn’t sure if Seokjin’s aware that he’s just repeated the same thing twice.

“She calls you Chim!” The older man reiterates.

“Yeah, it’s…” Jimin trails off, the heartwarming image of you cuddling into him after yet another mindblowing sex, flashing at the back of his mind, “...her pet name for me.”

“Sounds to me like she can’t remember your actual name,” Min Yoongi interjects from the couch he’s claimed for himself ever since they got to their usual hangout.

It’s a penthouse Jimin’s parents bought him on his 18th birthday. Him and the boys would hang around there after they’re done with classes or just need a place to crash whenever they have problems with their girlfriends or boyfriends or parents or any sort of problem that renders their usual room not sleepable.

“I think we can just agree we have different wants,” Jeongguk - or the sanest of them all, as Jimin likes to call him - chirps in, taking a bite of the apple he got from the fridge.

“Exactly,” Jimin throws his hands up as if freed from his elder friends’ judge-filled eyes. The vibration of his phone in his lap gives him even more comfort to know that he finally has an excuse to slip away - he checks his phone, your name flashing in the bubble that says ‘hey, wyd?’

“I have to go, it’s ___.”

A series of groans and hollers equally erupts from the men in the room at the realization of what Jimin’s ‘having to go’ means.

And so it goes. Jimin finds himself under your blanket that smells like fresh laundry - it’s a nude green color compared to the pleated black and white from last time. Your head is on his chest and he’s caressing your hair like it’s the softest thing he’s ever laid his hands on.

Besides your boobs, that is.

“I was thinking… since we have Monday off… maybe we could-”

It’s the way you push yourself off him, eyes that are onto him gazing straight into his soul, “oh shoot, Monday’s a public holiday. I totally forgot! I have to meet my parents. My dad’s been nagging me to come back since I skipped Christmas and New Year.”

And there goes his chance to ask you out on a date.

“Oh yeah, what were you saying about Monday?”

Jimin wears the biggest fake smile he can muster, “just that… me and the boys are gonna hang out and we’re bringing our girlfriends and boyfriends and uh- doesn’t have to be someone you’re exclusively seeing,” he almost chokes at the almost-admittance that he has the fattest crush on you and wants to make it official by inviting you to a couple’s-only hang out, “but like, I don’t think I’m going, it’s boring anyway.”

He waves his hand dismissively, trying to play it cool.

You make a cooing sound, eyebrows knitting together as your lips pout cutely before a playful smile blooms on your face, “I know what you’re trying to say.”

“You do?” Jimin thinks he heard his heart dropping to his stomach.

“Yeah, you’re single and all the boys have someone special they’re gonna bring… it’s gonna be awkward as hell because they’re gonna act different because they’re around their special someone so you thought if I was there, it’d be more fun because at least you have a friend with you that’s not gonna act fake the whole time there but I can’t go so you decided you’re not going too like a minute ago.”

Silence lulls in after your analogy that you sound so sure of when, in fact, he has a whole list of things he’d do on the date which he may or may not have gone over a hundred times in his head.

Doesn’t matter now, since that date is a no-go.

He’s going to delete that list off his phone once he gets to his place and drink himself silly until he wipes it out of his mind.

“Yeah,” Jimin says a moment later, “yeah… I mean, girls in love are cute but boys in love are just… annoying.”

The week flies by without Jimin ever mentioning Monday and you’ve showed him the clothes you’re going to wear to visit your parents because apparently-

“It’s lunch at some five star Michelin restaurant and I think they’re gonna tell me they’re getting a divorce,” your voice drifts into the room from the open, walk-in closet.

“If they’re not in some long, dreadful battle on who gets the holiday house with the pool and the dogs - how do I look?” You step out, in a frilly creme sweater with a black ribbon tied around the collar of your white undershirt with a black pleated skirt that stops mid-thighs, just inches from your black stockings.

A glaring contrast to your collection of washed out skinny jeans, plain t-shirts and sneakers.

“You… look…” Jimin knows he should stop openly ogling at your never-before-seen drip but there’s just something about the creme colored sweater.

“Like a good girl?” You offer with a smile Jimin couldn’t quite put a name to. Somehow he notices a trace of sadness in your eyes, but you disappear into the closet too soon.

“I’ll think about what to wear the morning I need to wear it,” you’re in the middle of pulling off the sweater when Jimin comes up behind you, kissing your neck and grabbing your boobs like they’re his.

The sound of your giggle is music to his ears.

That is, until his boner brushes against your butt and you gasp, “Chim! We just did it.”

“I know but you look so cute in that sweater.” He sounds exactly like Jeongguk. Like a fuckboy.

Like one of the boys you got tired of before you finally noticed him, the quiet, shy guy who’s friends with the outgoing, baby-faced Jeon Jeongguk whom - Jimin hates to admit it but he thinks about this every once so often and gets jealous all on his own - you’ve humped and dumped.

How you and Jeongguk still manage to stay friends and tease each other about the other’s choice of partners, Jimin doesn’t know.

It’s like a twin calling the other ugly.

He wonders if you and him will still stay friends after…

Jimin pushes the thought out of his mind. It’s not hard to forget everything when he’s with you - when he’s kissing you on the mouth like you’re the only girl he’ll want to spend the rest of his college life with and maybe his old days with together too.

“Chim, I can’t get my shirt creased,” you say but you’re already dripping wet and laying down in said shirt that’s half ridden up from him sucking and biting on your nipples.

He stopped you when you tried to take off your clothes.

“I’ll wash it and iron it for you,” he negotiates just as he rolls the condom over his length.

The sound of your giggle makes his heart skip a beat. Or maybe that’s the libido?

Either way, your mouth clamps shut when he pulls you down against him by the dip of your waist.

A different kind of hymn leaves your lips as Jimin throws his head back, relishing in the feeling of you around him.

When Monday rolls around, Jimin’s lying on the bean bag with his two legs sprawled over the floor. The boys are all out with either their significant others, working part-time or at a party.

The worn out baseball Jimin’s been tossing in the air and catching with one hand finally hits him square in the face when he hears the doorbell, signaling the presence of someone at the door and that someone being none of the boys because they would just punch in the code and strut in like they own the place.

Jimin thought maybe it’s Yoongi - the guy couldn’t even remember what he had for dinner and actually forgot the passcode to his own rental room once.

So he didn’t think to check who it was.

When your bright smile and slightly puffy eyes flash in front of him, Jimin thinks his soul just yeeted itself out of his body.

“Hey!” You sing song, holding up two plastic bags of beers and snacks.

It takes a moment for him to snap out of his stupor and grab them from your hands and then stepping aside to let you in.

“Is… everyone late or am I just early?” You sound increasingly confused as you step further into the center of the room, standing right next to the bean bag he was laying in just a moment ago.

“Oh-” he says once before he opens his mouth the second time, ready to spurt out another lie, “oh yeah… we decided not to ‘cause why hang out in a group when you can hang out with your significant other… you know, just the two of you… doing what couples do…”

“Huh,” you say, nodding though not quite believing him but you being you, easily lets it slide, plopping on the bean bag and grabbing the closest thing to you which is the ball that hit Jimin in the face - he’s sure he has a circular mark smack dab in the area on the top of his nose bridge, in between his eyes.

The dress you end up wearing is creme colored and riding up your thighs - Jimin swallows thickly and give extra attention to the bottle opener.

“So… how did lunch go?” He pops two beers open and hands one to you, taking a seat on Yoongi’s favorite couch and admiring how your dress is taking the shape of your body as gravity pulls it down.

“Oh, you know, everyone was being fake and acting like the perfect role in the family,” you put the beer down a few inches above your head so as to not tip it over with the ball you’re waving around but not throwing in the air like Jimin did.

“Sounds suffocating,” Jimin repeats a similar answer he gives whenever you use that dismissive tone while talking about your family.

“...are you okay?” Then he asks - and he’s genuinely asking - about your state of mind while casually downing the beer and feeling the bitterness lessen with every gulp.

The silence that lapses in between you is familiar.

“If I say no, can I get a hug?” It’s the look in your eyes, glimmering like the lake he used to go to in summer.

“Always,” he sets his beer down on the table next to the couch and goes over to you, standing on his knees before bending down and engulfing you in his arm.

You’ve always had a knack for picking yourself up.

When he sees you the next time, which is on instagram and a post of you having lunch with your friends, Jimin could hardly believe that’s the girl who asked him for a hug as if she’s afraid she’ll be putting him in an uncomfortable spot by asking for too much.

But there’s something…

Like an invisible wall made of ice that he can’t thaw through nor can he climb over to get to the other side where you are. Where you keep the people you love the closest. Closer than he’ll ever be.

Jeon Jeongguk is one of them.

In the picture of five people huddled close to fit in the frame, Jeongguk has his arm over you with a peace sign while you lean your head on his neck but not actually resting on it - like it’s an unconscious action you’d do because you’ve done that plenty of times.

Is it when you two were together?

Everyone he knows, knows that you and Jeongguk used to be more than just friends at some point.

Sometimes he still hears people talking about you two in passing.

‘Did ___ and Jeongguk get back together? I saw in Jeongguk’s snapstory - they were in a club or something.’

‘No way. There goes my chance of getting close with Jeongguk.’

‘Girl, with ___ hanging around him 24/7, do you think he’d look at girls like us?’

‘A girl can dream though.’

Jimin wanted to open his mouth and tell them they deserve way better than Jeon Jeongguk - though they’re not prettier than you.

He thinks you’re the loveliest girl on planet earth and if there was another life form on another planet, he’s almost a hundred percent sure you’d still be prettiest being in the universe with your obsession for skinny jeans and the way you’d unconsciously pout when he talks about how things weren’t going his way that day as if you would’ve exchanged your abundance of luck with his shitty one just because you’ve got that big of a heart and how you’d be walking with your friends, laughing and giggling and when you see him, you’d wave at him like you’re good friends.

Second only to Jeongguk and your friend group that you’re always hanging out with.

“Oh, ___? We were childhood friends.”

“Hmm… Gguk and I became friends because our parents are friends.”

The two of them say at different times and settings when Jimin asked, trying to play it cool. Like he isn’t just brimming with jealousy. Like he’s not half-way to losing his mind because the girl of his dreams just went to a retreat with his friend-of-a-friend-turned-actual-friend together when everyone else in the group who was excitedly planning for the trip - couldn’t make it.

The rooms at the inn weren’t even pre-booked. It was owned by Jeongguk’s family and they didn’t deposit any money for the trip for them to rationalize going on that trip anyway despite everyone else not being to go.

“The trip? It was fun, if you want we can go together next time.”

Jimin isn’t sure if you even mean that when he asked how the trip went after you’re glistening with the glow of after sex and scrolling through instagram, liking posts of everyone you know.

But then three months later, on your break, Jimin is hit with a ‘keep your schedule free next week for a whole week!!!’

Then he finds himself at a five star hotel by the beach with the most breathtaking view of the sea.

It wasn’t the inn owned by the Jeon’s but Jimin liked the fact that you brought him to a place - and he hopes his assumptions are true - your friends have never been before. Especially Jeongguk.

“Woah, this place is better than I thought,” a king sized bed lies directly across from the balcony where you’re standing, hair flying behind your back as the seaside breeze blows into the room.

“We can watch the sun rise and set from our bed,” Jimin comments for the sake of saying something.

He’s not sure what this means. He’s not sure if he should be having a boner at the thought of the two of you being together for a whole week without any other person getting in the way. He’s not sure if his heart should be thumping this fast.

For the first time since he’s known you, Park Jimin is the most unsure he’s ever been.

“You know what I wanna watch?” Your hands slip in his as you stand between him  and the open balcony door, “you under me, biting your lips because you’re still shy about the sound you make.”

So when you tug him back into the bedroom just minutes after checking in, naturally, Park Jimin follows like he’s been bewitched by your ungodly beauty.

Once the one week of nothing but heavenly morning wishes and passionate night kisses - oh, there was more than just kissing but Jimin remembers how your lips meld so perfectly together with his the most - Jimin is sure.

‘Something definitely changed.’

He thinks maybe it’s not impossible to dream of a future with you even after college.

“Jimin I-... I’m not at a point in life to be thinking about relationships,” you say, hand gripping your arm, head lowered as if your whole body is saying sorry.

“O-oh,” is all he says, he hearts his heart breaking and his chest caving.

All of a sudden, the lights in Gangnam city doesn’t seem so bright anymore.

You both live your last year pretending like the other doesn’t exist. He doesn’t look at you when he passes you and neither did you. Only talks to Jeongguk even though you’re right next to the aforementioned man - granted you were talking with your other friends like you didn’t even notice him there.

But Jimin’s never felt so invisible in his life than he does now.

Then, graduation rolls around and he thinks finally, he won’t have to walk through the hallway and pretend like he didn’t see you. Don't have to keep a five feet distance whenever you meet up for a group project.

Park Jimin doesn’t need to see your pretty face and starry eyes anymore.

“Jimin… do you have a minute?”

Or so he thought.

“So… congrats on surviving college,” you make small talk while standing just ten feet away from the boys whom he’s sure are speculating on what you’re talking about.

Jimin never got to prove to his friends that you’re not the mean, name-forgetting girl they all thought.

Jeongguk knows you’re not. He’s always backing Jimin up when Jimin’s debunking their passing accusations about you.

“Sometimes things just don’t work out between two people but doesn’t mean one of them is the bad guy.” Jeongguk's words put an end to their debate of whether Jimin deserved better than you or not.

For someone young, Jeongguk spoke his mind decidedly.

Jimin felt ashamed that he’d ever been jealous of Jeongguk’s relationship with you.

“I just… didn’t wanna leave things on a bad note. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings when I said no but I really like spending time with you - whether it’s sex or just staying over and cuddling for hours… I like it all.” You say the word sex and cuddle like they’re used interchangeably and Jimin thinks his heart just fluttered.

And you’d said it in public where your everyone can see or possibly pick up on what you were saying, at that.

Well, one thing’s for sure, you’ve got bigger balls than he does.

“My feelings are the same as six months ago and call me crazy but I don’t think you dislike me either.” He finally says and it feels like a deadweight has been lifted off his shoulders.

There comes that pout, as if something is bothering you and you always ever pout like that when that something concerns him.

“You kidding me? I can never dislike you.”

The Jimin from six months ago would have stared at you with disbelief and a dust of pink on his cheeks. But the Jimin he is now simply smiles, heart thumping in his chest. He nods.

“Thanks for telling me that,” and Jimin knows that’s the closest to an ‘I like you’ he can get with the girl who builds an ice fortress around her heart.

A whole year passes by and Jimin finds himself in different shades of grey every day, working at his dad’s company and attending dinner meetings. Life comes to a standstill while time passes him by.

“So, like, you have a sports car, right? Why don’t you come over to the race circuit after dinner? Everyone’s gonna be there.”

Jeongguk tells him over the phone.

And by ‘everyone’ he means the sons and daughters in the corporate world. It’s networking at its finest.

When he’s there, three cars are already racing in the circuit. The smell of burnt rubber and the sound of tires screeching against asphalt isn’t exactly his favorite but they have cheap booze instead of fine wine and he knows the people here are in for the same thing as he is.

An escape.

Away from the grandeur of fine wine and dinner dresses and the elders breathing down their necks and having to act like the next heir to the legacy they were born to carry.

“That Chevrolet over there,” Jeongguk comes, hand on Jimin’s back as his other one that’s holding a bottle of beer points at a red car that looks like a racing fireball, “everyone’s betting on that one tonight.”

Jimin doesn’t know there’s a bet.

“I’ll skip the bet this time ‘round. Haven’t seen the driver yet,” he shrugs dismissively.

Even in stock investment, he’d learned to study the market first before placing his best bet.

Jeongguk leaves his side when his friends - he’s got new ones now - beckons him over. At the same time, the Chevrolet passes the finish line seconds before the Ford Mustang and McLaren 720s, making it the winner of the night.

The driver seems like a show off with the way the car rolls up to the audience, the sound of its engines revving into the night being met with cheers of half-drunk young adults.

Arrogance is a man’s downfall.

Jimin’s about to turn around and head for the exit when the door of the car gets pushed open. The driver steps out, decked in black and red leather jeans and jackets that seem to match the car.

But it’s the smooth, silken hair that cascades past the helmet that catches his eyes.

Park Jimin’s seen many arrogant men in his life but he’s only ever seen one woman with balls and looks good wearing them.

“___! ___! ___!” The crowd starts cheering as you pull off the helmet, holding it underneath your arm and waist.

Your eyes are as brilliant as the night sky full of stars. They’re tinged with shock and then recognition. And finally, you smile that gorgeous smile that gets you misunderstood often as a woman who doesn’t need anything or anyone but uses them as they come.

But Park Jimin knows better than anyone, how wholeheartedly happy that smile looks when you see him.

Like meeting a good friend after a long time.

Seven months down the road, Jimin finds himself with just a blanket draped over his waist while you’re taking a shower in his bathroom to get ready to head to Hong Kong for a business trip.

He hears the sound of the shower head being turned off. The tapping of your foot around his bedroom as you pick up your clothes that are strewn all over the floor.

Then the bed dips ever so gently under your weight as you climb over to him, the fresh scent of shower get filling his senses.  Lips press a deep, lingering kiss on his. As if you don’t want to go to a place where he won’t be.

A few socials and midnight races after his first meeting with you after a long time, you asked him if he’s seeing someone.

“If I say yes, what will you do?” It’s playful at first, because Jimin didn’t want to get himself hurt the second time.

But it’s the way you tilted your head, a finger tapping on your chin as you pondered on his words, “that’s a problem because I don’t want to be that girl that steals another girl’s man,” then you looked at him like you know he’s the one you want to wake up to every morning and the last face you see when you sleep at night and if you can’t have that. then-

“Can you be mine… just for tonight?”

“I don’t think I can.” The crestfallen expression you wear makes his own heart break, even if it’s just for a split second-

“Because I’m not seeing anyone but I’m in that point in life where I want a serious relationship or nothing at all.”

But what he doesn’t tell you is how he doesn’t want a relationship if it’s not with the girl who still haunts his dreams even after all this time.

Just like how you’d turned him down because you weren’t looking to be in a relationship before, you’d courted Jimin like you’d want to spend your whole life with him now.

Flowers got sent to his office everyday until it smells nothing short of floral. You’d be there, waving at him like he’s your savior in that dreadful social you were both attending. Every week, you’d plan dinner dates under the guise of catching up.

Before you race, you’d look over to where he’s standing, as if saying ‘this one’s for you’ before slipping into your car and coming out first every single time.

As if you were making up for every month of the year that you’d let life pass you by.

Now you’ve won a total of 36 races since he met you and the metal band you gifted him on the night of your 12th win feels warm against his skin. As if it’s absorbed all the love and adoration you poured into it.

And you’re wearing that ring he got you on your birthday on your finger that’s resting on his chest where his heart is as he kisses you back just as reluctant to let you leave.

But Park Jimin knows wherever you are, wherever you will be - you will always find your way back to each other.

Back home.

#bts smut #jimin smut #bts fics #jimin fic #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin x you #bts x you #bts x reader #jimin x reader #jimin fics #bts fic #bts fanfics #jimin fanfics #jimin scenarios #bts scenarios

[1994sunflower]

mikey buying y/n lingerie, or like dragging her to victoria secret and like picking stuff out for her.

in which michael buys you lingerie

You were so used to the routine of classes, campus, Michael’s house, your apartment. To go out of it always gave you a fuzzy feeling just because you weren’t used to it. But you loved what it brought you. Every time you went shopping off campus or just exploring the city. Being right beside Michael, your hand in his. It made you feel proud. To know everyone that looked at you two knew that he had chosen you.  

The mall, especially. When there were so many distractions, ones that always got you as you tugged him every which way you were interested. His focus was always on you, letting you drag him to any store you wanted even if it clashed so obviously with his personality. He took it with no complaints. It made you feel so special.

Michael even carried your bags for you, not caring how mismatched it would look to anyone who cared to see such a tall, daunting man carrying small little bags with the girliest, frilliest stores the mall had to offer labeled on them. It felt like, even with the two of you surrounded by so many things and people, you were still in your own world. 

You followed behind him, your hands in his, whenever he trailed into his own interests, slowly as if trying to pretend he didn’t really care. Watched as he lost himself in looking at video games, music, shirts that depicted some scenes that made you wonder how it was legal to be on fabric. 

He even enjoyed teasing you, trying to lead you into stores which stopped you straight in your tracks and you watched the amused grin on his face as he took in your embarrassed blush. So wholesome. At least in public. He was sure what he made you do on a daily basis was worse than any sex toys those very adult stores could hold inside. 

But he simply wrapped his arm around your shoulder and led you away, almost cockily at bringing out your shyness. He always seemed a lot calmer, freer out in public whenever you were off campus. But still stoic and intimidating, at least you assumed that’s why people seemed to always stare at you and make room for you two to move by. 

Your eyes were trailing up to the second floor above you, already thinking of what stores you wanted to see or if you preferred to go to the food court instead. So lost in your thoughts you didn’t realize Michael had stopped moving and you had gone a few steps ahead until his immobile arm tugged you back. Glancing back at him in confusion just to find him staring to the side and you didn’t understand why until your eyes followed his gaze.

The lingerie store did its best to not look raunchy as stereotypes would have it seem. It was well lit, its prettiest pieces on display. But either way, your cheeks heated up as soon as you eyes raked over them and noticed Michael’s doing the same. You weren’t sure you even wanted to know just what exactly was going on in his mind. It was the only reason the store even caught his attention, you knew, because his mind was swimming with you.

You didn’t really use lingerie at all, not that you needed to. With Michael it wouldn’t last more than a few seconds on your body, on a good day it’d likely end up ripped on the floor. But looking at them, you couldn’t deny how pretty they were. You thought of how they would make you look, especially how Michael would react to them on you. The confidence boost would be spectacular.

Perhaps you looked for a little longer than you intended, gazing at the mannequins deep in thought. Because before you knew it, Michael was closer to you. His chest to your back and leaning down enough to whisper, “Want to go in?”

You looked up at him in embarrassed surprise. Your mouth hung open but nothing but stutters left. You were too shy to go in there by yourself, knowing how helplessly lost and inexperienced you would seem, let alone go in there with Michael.

Shaking your head was no use because he was already tugging you by your hand.

“M-Mic…Michael…I-I think-”

It was all you could do to stutter out his name to try to get his attention before you finally entered the store completely. And the eyes of the workers on you made you look up at Michael for support. You knew you looked really different from your boyfriend, but in that store, it felt even more obvious that he was so much more experienced and you were sure others doubted how he could be satisfied with you.

But his eyes should have been their answer. He was satisfied only by you. His eyes never left your figure, an excitement in them only because of you and how he imagined you would look in all those hot pieces. 

Which is probably what gave you the calm and confidence to move on your own, keeping your arms wrapped around his bicep, keeping him close as you moved around the room looking at the different pieces. From the most modest to the flimsiest. 

You didn’t touch anything, even your newfound curiosity couldn’t make you do that. But you were drawn to the prettiest outfits, in your mind. The one with more lace than anything else, in the prettiest pastel colors. Normally, imagining yourself in them would feel mismatched, but having Michael with you, his arm around your waist and tracing circled on your hip, your mind took you to just how weak you would render your intimidating boyfriend. It sent a thrill to you, knowing the power you had.

Michael, for his part, was just watching you. His eyes intense and his jaw set as he went over whatever fantasies he had each time you approached a set you liked. Especially when you finally picked one up. 

“Do you like this one?” It was a blue one piece, which despite that, left little to the imagination. It hard cut outs on the top of the breasts and the curve of your sides. But the lace detailing was beautiful and you were sure it would be able to cup you in all the right places. Especially for Michael’s enjoyment. You wanted nothing more.

And despite Michael being silent when he nodded, you knew he agreed to your silent judgement of it. If not by the darkening of his eyes than the way he held you just a bit closer as you continued looking, with it in your arms. But then he pointed at the same piece just in black.

“This one.” He picked. 

Maybe it was the exhilaration at seeing that you were actually receptive to buying things from there, it wasn’t something he had just dragged you into anymore. You were taking the initiative to not only look but buy. But he started being a lot more ‘helpful.’

The way he picked up any fabric was almost laughable. Like a hormonal teenage boy seeing a girl’s intimates for the first time. As if he wasn’t known around campus for his skills in the bedroom. As if he didn’t do the dirtiest things to you in bed.

It was kind of cute, the way he would tell you he liked something without ever saying it. 

“You like it, right?” The panties were such a pretty color you couldn’t disagree. Especially with the small little ribbon that for him, was just going to be begging to be undone when on you. The straps would hug the top and side of your hips. 

Even if you were doubtful of whether or not it was crotchless. Particularly with the mischievous smirk he couldn’t contain when you nodded shyly, this time you being the one that was speechless. But your suspicions were confirmed the moment he didn’t even let you reach out and take it from his hands. It was the only thing you weren’t carrying. He always did like easy access.

Then it was garter straps that would connect to thigh highs that you wouldn’t have ever had even the courage to even pick up, let alone try on when it was so different from your personality. But the sight of them had you biting your lip and agreeing nonetheless.

Or then it was baby doll top with the completely lace and see through design. That despite it’s openness, you were drawn to equally as he was. It was just so cute and dainty. Just like you. It was perfect. 

Especially when he held it up to show it to you and when your eyes lit up at the sight, he put it up against you making you titter nervously and snatch it out of his hands. Glancing around to make sure no one had seen just exactly what your boyfriend was so excited for. He was like a kid in a candy store.

But nothing could have prepared you for the way he stopped dead in his tracks in front of one set hung up. 

You weren’t paying attention at first, but even if you were, you wouldn’t have been able to grab a hold of it. It was too far up. But he reached up without an issue with a concentration that was out of character for him.

By the time you turned around, he was already staring at you. The hanger was in his hands as he held it up slightly to show you. It was ridiculous that the only time he ever seemed interested in anything was in this situation.

“This one too.” He wasn’t even asking, he was picking it out for you. And it didn’t take a genius to see why he liked this one specifically, more than anything else he had chosen out for you.

It was pure white. Which is probably what caught his attention in the first place. The color always drove him crazy on you. Such an unblemished color, symbolizing innocence. Which is what you represented, what he took and tainted.

The bra was small, you weren’t sure it would cover even half of your breasts but that may have been the point. The small bow connecting the two cups being the only really design. The bottom was a skirt but it was barely the width of five fingers, useless at covering anything. But again, that was likely the point. It was frilly, making it look much like a maid’s skirt. With small little ruffles at the top and bottom of the skirt. The same frills and ruffles were on the arm bands. Even on the lacy choker that came with it.

It was at once so cute, wholesome looking and the filthiest thing you had seen since you entered the store. The only thing it wasn’t was proper.

You would look so pure, like a doll. Fragile and weak. He could just imagine you, sitting on your knees on his bed. Looking up at him with your big doe eyes. Your singsong voice calling him to you, begging for him. Looking every bit the pieces of the virginal angel you used to be mixed with the dirty little slut for him you now are. 

How he would completely eclipse you, how the dark of his tattoos would clash so violently with the white of the fabric. How wrong it would look to anyone else to see him, covered in ink with filthy words and depictions on the entirety of his upper body, on top of you dressed like that. His large build covering you completely, making you seem even more vulnerable with that flimsy set on. Seeing you submit to him looking that innocent, visibly showing what you’ve always been. Letting him do the filthiest things that shouldn’t be done with looking that chaste and virtuous. 

Fuck. He didn’t think he could ever take this one off of you, even when he would be plowing into you. He’d have to keep it on your body as he stared down at you. Even with how flimsy the tiny little bra was, as if tempting him to rip it off of you.

Maybe going into the store was a bad idea. He could feel himself getting hard and he knew you would not appreciate him trying anything this much in public. But he couldn’t help himself. Just one look at the displays at the window, he could only think of you. How cute you would look, how hot. It hadn’t even been meant to be anything inherently sexual. He was never really the type to be wanting you to wear more clothes when he was trying to fuck you.

But the further you went in, the shy, almost nervous, look in your eye, he couldn’t help his thoughts straying. His good girl. 

Especially when his gaze fell pieces that he couldn’t help but imagine adorning your body under him. That would just accentuate what he liked most about you, that fits your sweet personality while at the same time hitting at the dirty girl only he ever saw. Those thoughts were multiplied tenfold at the sight of the last lingerie set he had grabbed without a second thought. It was like it was made for you, for his girl. It would be all for him. Only his eyes would ever see you in it.

And he may die when he finally sees it on you. But he’d die a happy man. Nothing would ever satisfy him like you did, he was sure. He could practically hear your whimpering moans, your tiny hands clinging to him as the only thing on your wrecked body was the frilly outfit, the choker would look beautiful on your neck as your mouth was open, tongue out front he pleasure.

Good thing he didn’t have to worry about how he was going to deal even a few more minutes looking at any more outfits, especially with his mind still stuck on the one in his hands. 

Because you looped around arm through his, “Okay.” You giggled, the blush still on your cheek. “I think that’s enough here, Mikey.”

And he let you lead him away from the temptations that was the merchandise easily.

The cashier was pretty. She didn’t do much to stop her surprise as she glanced between you. You wondered if it was the height difference that she was referring too, as you fiddled with your fingers, or the way Michael daunted above both you and her. The way he was covered head to toe in black, chains on his jeans and wrists, tattoos littering his neck and arms. Looking very much comfortable, if not happily dazed, in a store like this. And you, lithe and meek at his side, probably appearing like an anxious little virgin.

If only she knew.

Maybe the pieces she was ringing up would give her a clue. Or the way Michael couldn’t keep his hands off of you. Despite the way you looked like you could break when in his arms.

He bought it all. You didn’t even get the chance to offer your own card before he was already entering his pin. He picked everything out after all. It was a gift for both of you.

Michael even let you carry the striped bag, declaring to the world very obviously just what exactly you two had walked together in the store to buy. You held it with both hands, wanting very much to bury your face in his chest in modesty. 

But he was gleaming proudly, showing off to anyone who cared to watch, especially the men ogling the small girl at his side, that anything they were fantasizing about, he very easily already made reality or would. And the proof was in the medium sized bag in your hands. Everything you would let him see and experience of you, let him do to you. He felt like the luckiest man in the world. 

“Let’s go home, baby girl.” His voice was soft at your ear and his hands squeezed your hips. 

You were sure ‘home’ was going to consist of the rest of the hours of the day being spent on the contents of the bag, what he had picked out and bought for you. Being displayed right in front of him for his enjoyment. And he’d get to help you break them in, bask in your sweet nervousness and submission dressed like the pure yet dirty girl you were.

So, who were you to do anything but nod and let him lead you out of the suddenly crowded mall. 

#5sos #5sos imagines #michael clifford #michael clifford x reader #Bad Boy Michael #Michael clifford fluff #Michael clifford smut #5sos smut #5sos fluff #bad boy smut #bad boy fluff #college au

[writeblrfantasy]

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pax said he liked my clothing descriptions and i haven't been able stop thinking about that so i put together this compilation!! from acogs, brenin, oots, a short from gkbk i'm working on, and the farlingverse. i hope you love all of these because i'm super proud of all of them <3<3

taglists and ts under the cut

Katya is dressed in a brilliant red velvet gown whose floor length skirt trails behind her. Gold is embroidered onto the hem of the skirt and the bodice, supported by a thin red strap that curves around her neck. Her orange hair covers her shoulders in loose curls, two parts on either side pulled back from her face and secured with a ribbon on her head like always. She wears no jewelry on her pale, freckled skin, and the neckline of the gown teases her breasts.

In a few minutes, one huge golden ring will sit on her right middle finger. Nikolai pictures it now.

Beautiful and mighty, she’s sitting on the old throne of the temple, from when this was the palace and Aspiania was the capital. The fingers of her left hand curl over the white armrests, and she leans her head back onto the red cushion there. Green eyes dulled behind the wire frames of her spectacles have the power to freeze an empire, a whole world.

Nikolai is more interested in the drawn golden sword in her right hand.

~

Esme is wearing custom made robes in a beautiful mix of red, dark blue, and purple, with a sash and hems of shimmering gold. Embroidery of the sun and moon decorate patches in tiny patterns, stars covering every inch of them.

In traditional Tan style, they wrap around his shoulders and tie at his waist with the knot in the back, the sleeves loose and flared out at the wrists. They go down to his feet, covered in polished black boots. His black hair is sparkled with gold dust, but it’s forever too long and strands fall into his eyes.

He grins when he sees Laurent across the temple for the first time, dopey eyed, as Laurent’s soul evaporates from his body. It’s a remarkable testament to his self-restraint that he doesn’t cross the temple in three strides and tackle Esme to the ground.

~

Feryn looks truly like an angel, or a god, or grace incarnate. No veil covers her head, but her white hair hangs loose round her face. Cygnus was expecting curls, or a braid with flowers, or an updo with a diamond circlet wrapping her hair. But the reality is plain. And it’s beautiful.

She’s wearing cosmetics, he’s sure, but he can’t see them well. Her brown eyes just look a little brighter than normal, her lashes a little longer, her cheeks a little fuller. She smiles at him with warm eyes and pink lips.

Her gown is something he’s been looking forward to seeing and endlessly imagining ever since she and Lian got engaged. Like her hair, it’s much simpler than expected. The fabric is shiny like satin, the straps thin and the bodice plain like the gown Evan wore to her bridal shower.

Unlike Evan’s, the neckline dips, and the skirt of Feryn’s dress is slim. Feryn must be wearing shoes with tall heels, because Cygnus knows she isn’t naturally this tall. Or perhaps it’s just her posture, the straight back, the easy, content way she holds herself.

~

Feryn, who asked Cygnus to trust her when he asked what he would be wearing at the play, dresses him in bright red silk robes with drapes over the shoulders that blow out behind him. She says she had them made especially for tonight. Cygnus is rendered speechless, reminded of the luxury he lives as king. Feryn seems only pleased.

The shoulders and collar are decorated in sapphires and embroidered in gold. The robes don’t allow trousers to show that much, so he wears plain black. Feryn chooses polished black shoes with gold trim, and a red and gold clip for his hair.

When he looks in the mirror, he thinks he’s dressed for the most pristine play in the whole country, not Cherie’s little central company.

~

“Valerie—” Ruby begins, words dying in her throat as Cygnus holds up a hand. A rich sapphire ring adorns on his hand, and that’s not the only finery he’s wearing. His silk jacket of dark green is bejeweled with glittering gems and delicate piping. His boots are shinier than she’s ever seen them, and with his purple cloak and combed hair, he’s obviously going to meet someone important.

~

Like every other lady in the castle, Ruby allows Feryn to force her into nice clothes. She refuses the robes Feryn brought out, heavy red velvet, and chooses instead black breeches, a fine shirt, and an ornate jacket. The jacket is dull green, trimmed in gold and fastened with gleaming buttons. Ruby pulls on a new pair of black boots and actually gives some thought to her hair, after a moment permitting Feryn to braid it down her back. It’s all tedious to her, but she’ll endure it to keep poor Cygnus company.

~

“Come in,” came Alea’s voice at my first knock. I opened the door, watching Moureen muttering and fussing over Alea’s dress. The mix of sea greens and blues complimented her beautiful hair, some curls braided into a crown around her head, the rest lying around her shoulders. I couldn’t hold back a grin.

“What?” she asked.

“You look beautiful. I have something for you,” I said, bringing forth the box from behind my back and thrusting it into her hands. I motioned for her to open it.

“Oh, Bren, you didn’t have to—” She opened it, her mouth falling open. “Oh, my—” Alea turned and set the box down, picking up the jade and sapphire teardrop earrings that I’d bought her in the shop. It must’ve been the gods’ will for the dress and earrings to match perfectly, making her green eyes stand out. She looked every bit the duchess, every bit a queen.

~

Alea was in a stunning gold ballgown that glittered and shone when she moved. The skirt was embellished with pearls and diamonds, dripping and glittering. Her hair was up, a white flower hairpin keeping it out of her eyes. She smiled, and her green eyes looked even more beautiful than ever. I told her so. She laughed like she didn’t believe me.

~

More footsteps came to the door. I glanced up at Moureen, who was coming in with my freshly shined shoes. Thales hovered in the doorway in front of Lakus. I looked him over, taking in his bright blue jacket, adorned with gold trim and beading. The finished jacket looked much better now than it had during yesterday’s boring afternoon in the store. I found myself catching my breath.

He gave me a small smile. “You look good. The green, uh, looks good.”

I did something with my hands. “Thanks, I guess.” My jacket was well done. Light green and silver, pearl buttons and dark stitching. I chose the silver just to get on Lakus’s nerves, since I knew Danda couldn’t care less about whether people wore gold or not.

Lakus, by contrast, had bright, gaudy orange on. There was so much gold on him I could feel the money, and I grimaced, looking away from him after a glance.

~

Cerrick doesn’t recognize anyone else in the purples, reds, yellows, but he sees his man in the center of the pack in bright blue and green armor, cloak fluttering out behind him. his horse is gray, mottled with black spots, shorter than the rest. His sword is gleaming in his right hand, black gloves clutching the hilt like one born to it. His braid sticks out of his polished blue helmet, shining in the sun. Cerrick doesn’t care if Olin laughs at him for his reaction, he still curses softly under his breath.

Njord is beautiful.

The knights run a few casual circles around the stadium, waving to the crowd. Cerrick watches the crowd hand their knight of choice bracelets, charms, wreaths with fresh flowers braided into them.

acogs taglist (lmk to be added/removed) @magic-is-something-we-create @inkflight @spencer-nyx @writing-is-a-martial-art @ashen-crest @wisteria-eventide @nikkywrites @denkis-phone-charger @myhusbandsasemni @lynolord @ettawritesnstudies @golden-apple-s-blog @chazzawrites @pen-of-roses @47crayons @wickerring @sleepy-night-child @florraisons @faithfire @croctears @inkovert @kait-writes

fv taglist (lmk to be added/removed): @mel-writes-with-her-dragons @magic-is-something-we-create @47crayons @idk-bout-tonight

oots taglist (lmk to be added/removed) @willowiswriting @ninazeniks @magic-is-something-we-create @myhusbandsasemni @ren-c-leyn @justwriteyoudummy @47crayons @yejidoesthings @ettawritesnstudies @faithfire @a-forgotten-dusk @talesfromaurea @ashen-crest

general taglist: @magic-is-something-we-create @myhusbandsasemni @wickerring @directionoftime @47crayons @familiarvillain

gkbk taglist: (lmk to be added/removed) @magic-is-something-we-create @idk-bout-tonight @ren-c-leyn @crystallized-ink @hysteriwah @denkis-boyfriend @ashen-crest @aconfusedomni @myhusbandsasemni​ @oshaaru​ @metanoiamorii @47crayons

#writing #writeblr #wips #my wip #fantasy #fantasy writeblr #fiction #original fiction #lila's wips: fv #lila's wips: oots #lila's wips: acogs #lila's wips: gkbk #wip: brenin #bean's excerpts #lila's excerpts

[somediyprojects]

All designs from Mirabilia Designs by Nora Corbett: 

#51: Seaside Kingdom—April 28th, 2000 (OOP)

"I imagined the most beautiful, sparkling, crystallized castle and the warm breezes of the ocean. ~ With a few new treasures from our friends at Gay Bowles Sales, "The Seaside Kingdom" was created. A home of sand and feathers and seashells. threads and beads. This castle will not be taken by the rushing waves. It will be yours to enjoy for a very long time."

#52: June's Pearl Fairy— May 30, 2000

Second in Nora Corbett’s “Year of the Fairies” Collection, June’s Pearl Fairy is a celebration of soft summer sunlight. Awash in tiny pastel pearls, from the tips of her iridescent wings to the hem of her gold gown, she is caught in a contemplative dance. Swirling ribbons of pink satin and seed pearls float gracefully around her as she steps lightly across a carpet of wild flowers.

#53: Spring In My Garden— June 30, 2000

“I’m not a very patient person,” says Nora, “but gardening is teaching me to be. I’ve learned that something tiny and fragile holds the promise of becoming something bold and beautiful, if I only water and wait for it. What I haven’t learned is to not go barefoot outside way too early and freeze my feet! It’s nature’s way of reminding me why shoes were invented, I guess.”

#54: Scent of Old Roses— July 15, 2000

There is a princess, we are told, of indescribable wealth, who is fascinated by the mixing of garden scents. “A touch of lavender for sleep,” she muses here, in an ornate gown and stole trimmed with “Wisper”. “And rosemary, that’s for remembrance.” Rumor has it that she has captured her favorite scent, that of old English roses, in a rose-amethyst vial to carry with her wherever she goes. While you stitch, consider the effect of fragrances in your life, and resolve to surround yourself with those that bring you happiness, too.

#55: Mother's Bliss— August 15, 2000

Inspired by a photo of my son and I, this design celebrates an unforgettable moment of joy between a mother and child. It is simple, pure, and beautiful. I can still feel the sunshine on my back on that warm summer day and hear Jack's giggles as we played, back when I could still lift him over my head.

#56: May's Emerald Fairy— September 15, 2000

The third in Mirabilia’s “Year of the Fairies Collection”. She stands surrounded by wild strawberries, gazing into an emerald Crystal Treasure that signifies love.

#57: The Queen Mermaid—2000 OOP

The Queen Mermaid swishes through the waves, glittering in the ocean light. She is a figure of fairy tale but seems quite real in her watery world. Not to be bought, only to be made by you... "with the hand and from the heart".

#58: Queen of Peace— April 1st, 2001. OOP

Somewhere in the mists of time, a young queen ruled wisely and well. In this portrait rendered by Nora Corbett, she has traded her golden crown for a jeweled circlet of full-blown roses. In a pose of calm contemplation, her dove-gray gown is cut low to emphasize a graceful neck embellished with cascades of crystals. Glistening regal emblems march across the sweeping folds of her skirt; a swath of deepest apple green catches her train to one side, and a single amethyst ribbon trails softly about her feet. In her queen's quiet hands, a lone turtle dove perches peacefully, safe in this place of tranquility.

#59: July's Amethyst Fairy

Fourth in Nora Corbett’s “Year of the Fairies” Collection, July’s Amethyst Fairy captures a radiant fairy mere moments before she is to meet with her long-awaited fairy prince. Because even enchanted glens get warm in July, her shadow-hued gown is off-the-shoulder satin, accented with precious gems the color of the midsummer sky.

Her bouquet? Rarest lavender roses. And behind her, airy wings flutter majestically, shimmering with violet amethysts – amethysts as perfect as this moment.

#60: The Blossom Harvest— August 1, 2001

A young maiden crowned with pale crystal zinnias, stops to experience the pleasures of nature. Her apron pattern echoes the neatly kept rows of her garden that overflows with pansies, narcissus, violets, and herbs. Beads make the flowers appear as they are in those first moments of the dewy morning — glistening and glowing with tiny droplets.

#cross stitch #inspo #x #mirabilia designs #nora corbett

[beni-draw-ikemen-please]

EYES NOSE LIPS CH 4

EYES NOSE LIPS CHAPTER 4 - DON’T 

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR X FEMALE PREFECT

Rating: Mature Readers (no smut yet)/ Fluff 

Word Count: 4,072

You can read the previous Chapters below:

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3 

CHAPTER 4 — DON’T

“Ever since I was born, there’s been an immovable stone on top of my head. No matter what I do — I’ll never be king. Even if I studied all of the magic in the world and master them  — to be king? — Never. Just because it’s an inevitable force as the order of your birth — life’s not fair.”

A lavish lifestyle with no real responsibilities rendered Leona to be a slothful prince. His role as second prince of the savanna and his line of kinship was a vignette — completely disappearing as soon as Cheka, his nephew was born. 

The moment Leona discovered his curse was when he finally understood what his gift was. His small hands held valuable tapestry, stones, and fruits born from the rich lands but they all turned to sand. A prince of the savanna, whose magic was to turn everything, even human beings and fellow beasts, to sand — he’d been feared even by his closest retainers. The fertile lands feared long dry spells, and he was one to instantly cause it. He could hear the giant murmurs and the whispers of disgust. If he wasn’t a prince, he would have been exiled or executed. 

Leona loved his older brother, Farena, with all he had. He was a thunderous presence, admirable strength, and like the sun, a source of warmth and inspiration for all. 

And there he was, the second son. Leona felt himself as a small and dark dot slithering towards the bright gradient of pink and orange that was a sun in the horizons of the savanna. A long road ahead of him, and looking back, there were only shadows and thorns. His shadow grew further and further away as he walked towards the bright source of light. Beneath his feet was dust and sand — the vestiges of his curse. Once they were living, now no more under his hand.

He could hear his older brother call out to him. An echo that haunted him every night. The echo that hummed him to sleep each night. The warmth that fed his cold. 

****

Leona barely saw the prefect in the last two days before the Ramshackle Dorm handover. He attended class, much to everyone’s surprise, barely absorbed in any lesson though. And yes, he was relieved to be praised by Trein for coming to class, but this time, his head was filled with thoughts of the prefect. The exterior hallways never changed, in the hundred years that Night Raven College stood, very little things changed. And in his three years there, the deep green carpets that extended like eternity didn’t impress him one bit. They were a boring sight. Nothing new. His brows knitted in boredom.

“Where is she now?”

“Club activities? Since when? I thought she was busy with chores in Savanaclaw and especially making food.”

“To think she would have time for club activities.”

Leona lazily scratched his right eyebrow, whilst fighting the urge to sleep through last periods. After class, he will have Magift training; being the captain, he needs his energy every single day. Magift training was something he never missed. But ever since they slept together, his focus was now somewhere else. 

The night before, he allowed himself to fall asleep with Asami happily atop his bed.  Not that they did anything strange, no. He would recall the moment when he awoke in the middle of the night. His own restlessness jerking him up from his slumber. Someone else’s hands and arms wrapped around him that night. Was he dreaming? 

He opened his eyes, and as they adjusted to the darkness of his room, he recognised the events of the previous afternoon. Asami lay on her side, her one leg clung to Leona’s. Her arms wrapped around his torso, practically hugging him closer to him, if there was any other chance to be closer than that. Her dark hair filled his favourite pillows — burgundy and mustard yellow. 

He couldn't believe he actually slept in his clothes. And as his eyes hovered over Asami’s sleeping figure, he could slightly peek under her skirt that was now lifted by their shifting sleeping positions. She wore black tights so there was really nothing to see, but the thought of her sprawled on his bed, made it almost impossible for Leona to fall asleep. 

He, in fact, stayed awake — the whole night. Just watching her. Just resting there, limbs tangled with hers. He had zero regrets staying where he was. He listened to her breathing, as he did before he fell asleep. 

When daybreak came, Leona pulled himself off the bed and took his time to sober himself up from the drunkenness of being in her embrace. 

He wanted so badly to be around her more often. 

He started wanting to be around her?

When morning came, he felt fine. When she woke up just as he was drying his hair, he was glad to have that stupid towel on his head. He could at least cover his face. 

Leona Kingscholar wanting to hide his face? It was a thought that made him scoff. But when he looked at the prefect, there was no fear in her eyes. No fear, but worry. How worried she looked as she searched his face for unknown answers formed a dry lump on his throat.

Why does she look so worried about me? When she needs to worry about herself?

Leona didn’t understand it. How casually she walked behind him on the way to the Savanaclaw mirror. And how, despite the intense blush on her face, she stayed closed as they passed through. And, as he was about to head towards the third year hallways, the way she called out to him made the hairs on his nape tingle a bit. 

*****

“You sleep with Ruggie—” Leona blocked the way to his room as Grim attempted his daily retreat. 

“Why?! We— we still have tonight and tomorrow!” Grim pushed him with his soft grey paws in protest. 

“But you can sleep with Ruggie. He’ll prep a meat platter for you—” Leona’s haughty offer was truly tempting for the small grey monster. But Grim was undoubtedly tired from the past two weeks. And he really just wanted to rest. 

Leona kept his stance, calling out to Ruggie as he dodged Grim’s attempts to push him away. 

“What about my minion? Where will she sleep?!! Don’t tell me, with Ruggie or Jack!” Grim was angry, the blue flames of his ears burning brighter with every word. Leona let out a sordid laughter. 

“What do you mean? The kitten will be sleeping with me—” His relaxed countenance made the furs on the back of Grim’s scruff stand up. Leona’s bloodthirst emanated from that smirk.  And Grim knew better than to stand up to the king of beasts. 

“Hunyaaaa—!!!!!!!” Grim jumped, protecting his tail, and Ruggie carried him off by the scruff.

Leona waited. His arms tucked under his head, he waited while relaxing atop his bed. His eyes glued to the doorknob. He wasn’t really sure what would happen, what he would say or what would be the offer when the prefect returned; but he waited for her return. Restless turning and shifting. His ears twitch every time he heard footsteps passed by the hallway leading to his room. 

Leona clicked his tongue. Where is she? 

She’s supposed to be back by now. Leona took a deep breath to try and relax himself. It wasn’t like him to be this excited over a girl. Before he knew it, he was fast asleep. 

****

“Are you excited?” Jade Leech towered over her. The twins both did. She was a small thing compared to them but after working part-time at the Mostro Lounge for two weeks, her fear of them dissipated. Floyd was now more playful around her and would even hug her randomly. Jade noticed her interest in the variety of tea leaves they housed in Mostro Lounge, and to his surprise, their little human actually  had a knack for blending leaves. Her brewing methods might need some refining work, but he appreciated the care she put into every pot she made. 

Jade took a liking to her, day by day, his gold and rust-coloured eyes would follow her around as she waltzed around the floors of the lounge. They’ve gotten a lot more patrons since she started her part-time shifts. And Azul, was gracious enough to let her have her dorm back, and her part-time spot. Their initial deal was problematic, but Asami worked hard to earn her keep and Azul was a man of his word. And, he found better use for the prefect other than making her his errand dog. 

“I’m excited! It feels like a long two weeks….” Asami held the tray close to her chest. Her shift was almost done. Jade looked at her, there was a certain calmed chaos that crashed in his sharp eyes; like the waves that crashed into the shore. 

“It must be tough living in Savanaclaw—” Jade’s voice was always calm. And it was soothing to Asami’s ears. She’s grown to like him and she was happy not to be judged whenever she rambled about tea leaves and indoor plants and mushrooms. But the mere mention of Savanaclaw softly wiped the smile of her face. Her head bobbed low, Jade waited for her words to come out. 

“It’s not really tough… I actually—” Jade leaned towards her, she had this habit of talking so soft it became hard to understand what she was actually saying at times. But he didn’t really mind it as he accustomed himself around her. It gave him a better excuse to lean in and carefully listen. 

“I actually like it there… I’ve grown to like everyone in Savanaclaw—” A meek smile bounced back on her face. A slight blush creeping up reaching even her small ears. 

He saw the blush on her cheeks at the slight mention of Savanaclaw. And how, whenever the dorm was mentioned, she'd dip her head low, almost as if trying to hide her already small self. Jade noticed. How she would let out a heavy sigh when someone enters the lounge. It was as if she was expecting someone to walk in, but it never turned out to be the person she wanted to see. When blazers adorn with yellow ribbons walked by, how her eyes would open wide — like a child peeking through the windows of a candy store for the first time. Her eyes searched for something. Maybe, someone. And Jade, very much wanted to know who that person was. 

Jade Leech would feel his head slowly shift towards her direction. Just as she finished her shift, he carefully watched how she hurriedly removed her white bow tie and fedora hat then headed towards the changing rooms. With elegant, careful and elaborate gloved hands, Jade took a copper canister and examined the next blend Asami had prepared. 

Loose black tea, bits of dried mint and shaved chocolate bits. He took in a deep breath. An exquisite blend. He carefully ran a finger over the characters Asami had written on the canister label. “Chocolate Mint Truffle” in small dainty cursives. A smile gently appeared on Jade’s face. 

How lovely.  He thought to himself. 

****

Leona could feel the peeking sun peel his eyes open. “Tch—” he muttered as soon as he felt himself wake up. Too bright. He thought. His hand reached for his phone to check the time.  

Too early. Too early for anything. 

Leona felt himself jump out of bed to look around. He suddenly remembered that he wanted to wait for the prefect to return. But he unknowingly fell asleep. Out of frustration? Out of anticipation? Maybe actual exhaustion? He looked around the room, and found her sound asleep on the usual futon on his carpeted floor. 

It was the first time he actually woke up to her sleeping there. Minus their ‘sleeping together’ incident, of course. He felt a sense of relief on his shoulders at the very sight of her. Her guard, finally down — and she allowed herself to be there — knowing he can wake up at any given time. 

Leona languidly moved from his bed down to the floor and even closer to her. Asami lay on her side, her hands in front of her face and slightly covering her lips. It was the steady and soft breathing which was familiar to him. And how he treasured that moment. 

Leona then — with half-lidded eyes — moved closer to the prefect. And he joined her space, snuggling himself behind her sleeping figure. His arm drew closer to her — if not — maybe it was him who actually scooted closer to her. 

He couldn't remember, he was falling fast asleep again as he found comfort in the scent of her. She was familiar and warm; a tantalising medley of wanting, longing and owning overcame his senses as he, yet again, allowed himself to be in this world. The world that was just her. 

****

Asami couldn’t remember when the last time she slept so comfortably in Leona’s room. She had been actively avoiding it. And frankly, she didn’t remember sleeping there for more than just a few hours. But yesterday was an exception. She arrived at Savanaclaw later than usual. Evening meals have been cleared, after-dinner runs are done and the lounge is empty. No one in sight. Her feet dragged her to Leona’s room, the only oasis she knew she could run to. She opened the door ever so softly, still managing a soft creak, and as she peaked inside, Leona’s sleeping figure assured her that everything was normal.  

She fell onto the futon, not even noticing that Grim was gone. Leona’s soft snores made her smile, and she let herself rest and fall asleep. 

At least, that’s what she last remembered. 

Her last day in Savanaclaw, Asami awoke to strong arms around her waist. And the warmth of long luscious strands all over her face. A soft kind of purring buried onto the back of her head, soft breaths tickled her hair and ears. “A cat?” 

She didn’t remember Grim being in the room, nor him being this big—

She felt her cheeks turn hot when she realised what was happening. Her fingers slowly and gingerly brushed over his hand—a tight grip on her waist, drawing her to his crouched figure. Asami tried to face him, but his grip was much tighter than she could manage. 

“Leona-senpai…” her soft voice called out to him, she was careful not to wake him so suddenly. She knew his waking mood was not the best, and she didn’t feel like getting devoured after working so hard to be under his mercy these past two weeks. 

He let out a soft groan. A rather gentle groan, and pulled her even closer. “Early…” he mumbled, lightly chewing bits of her hair that gave Asami’s back a quick shiver. 

“We… We have to get ready….” Her hands tugged his carefully laced fingers around her waist. Her face felt hotter but the minute she felt him breathing into her made her legs squirm a bit. 

Leona cleared his throat, and tight hands around Asami suddenly broke free, his body pulling himself off of her yet again. What a pain. What a chore. He thought. He wanted to stay asleep. Why was being around her so comfortable? 

Asami looked at the dorm leader, who seemed like he was inebriated. Hand on his forehead and unmoving. Her hand was hesitant to the idea of touching him. When was she okay with actively reaching out to him? Asami couldn’t remember. 

“I’m sorry I woke you… Dorm leader…” Her eyes worried and focused on him. Worried he might have not slept all right. Worried she woke him up when she arrived and opened the door. Worried he might be angry at her. Searching, her eyes searching for an indication that he was okay and he wasn’t angry. 

Leona’s eyes found hers. Sleep still drowned his focus. He reached out to her and held her close to him. Head resting on her small shoulders “Five…. Minutes.” He mumbled softly, like a child refusing to get ready for school. It was sweet, she thought. She did not move, she let herself enjoy this version of him. Like a dream she refused to wake up from.

 Leona languidly pushed her off of him and slowly stood up, and still ended up sitting on his bed. Hands covered his eyes — almost as if he was trying to hide himself. Asami stood up and smoothed her pajamas before approaching him. 

“Are you okay?” Asami ducked lower to meet his eyes, worried he might not be feeling well. 

“I’m fine” Leona faced her, eyes now focused and awake. 

Her eyes fixated on him, seemingly searching for a sign. What exactly would that sign be? He didn’t know. But only now, only then, did he notice how the centre of her eyes were dark red. Something dark in the middle of the bright carnelian swirls of her eyes. Her face in the morning was soothing, in a way. Somehow it was alright, and it felt right to be there. Leona didn’t realise it but his hand was already reaching out to touch her. Warm palms rested on her neck. He felt himself gulp, as he took in the sight of her. Waking up not cramming to get ready to be anywhere or to do anything. But waking up, to see her. 

How beautiful.  He thought to himself but he was careful not to say it out loud. 

Asami was still. It was as if she understood the need to be still whilst his hand rested on her neck. Her hair was a bit messy but it didn’t bother him, really. 

Did she always wear pajamas? 

He doesn’t really know. 

Did she always wear that light pink colour? It suits her. He thought. 

Asami was still, and yet she seemed to look brighter and brighter the more he looked at her. Like the rising sun in the savanna. The lone golden sphere pushing away the darkness of everything. His darkness, perhaps? 

“Did you sleep well?'' Finally she broke the silence. Voice still soft and husked from slumber. Her lips moved so beautifully, he thought. How he wanted it. Since when he thought he wanted them, he wasn’t certain. But his eyes trailed from her eyes, down to her small nose, and then to her lips. Slightly parted lips, flushed cheeks, like they always are around him. 

Did he make her so nervous her face is always this flushed? He wasn’t certain. He thought he knew a lot of things. Leona Kingscholar thought he got the lion’s share of intellect. But now he realises that he has a list of things he did not know. And she was on the top of that list. 

He paused for a moment, and looked to what appears to be the direction of her chest. Leona looked away and cleared his throat. 

“You should change…” and he coughed again, hastily standing and heading for his dresser to throw her a fresh towel. “I mean get ready…” lazily pointing at the bathroom door as he walked out of the room. Asami looked down at herself and realised that her pajama top’s spaghetti straps were already half off her, revealing the top part of her chest. Asami ducked to cover herself but Leona was already out of sight. 

Yet again, she felt very small around him. And in that corner of his room, her face and ears displayed a brighter deeper tint of red. 

It was their last day in Leona’s room. And Asami felt a heavy kind of melancholy wrap around her as she finished getting ready. She looked around; his pine green sheets were still new from yesterday. His dresser — messy as always — looked the same no matter how many times she cleaned up. Shirts half-pulled and other bits of clothing scattered around it. Red and blue beads scattered on the floor. How his choker and bracelets stayed in place, she will forever wonder. 

Not that she minded, really. She enjoyed the last few days of it. She sat quietly atop his bed. Reminiscing that time when she felt the closest to him. She slept on his bed and never did she feel any sort of malice come out of it. Leona too, When did she allow herself to be okay with him being around? 

When did it start?

How is it that now she could look into his eyes and feel no fear when she had been actively avoiding him during all of her time staying in Savanaclaw?

Asami folded her futon and gathered her things, tightly zipping her duffel bag close. She took a deep breath, hoping the scent of the room would imprint onto her brain. Who knows when she could step into this room ever again? 

She walked out and headed for the hall of mirrors. 

That day, Leona Kingscholar didn’t wait for her outside his door. 

*****

Leona Kingscholar could feel that he was slowly falling off the world of reason. Ruggie and him took their usual spot at the rooftop during lunch. There was no special box for him or Ruggie. And, when he returned to get ready, the prefect, along with their things were gone. He expected as much. 

She must have been glad to get out of there. He thought to himself quietly as he hummed. Leg propped on top of his knee, hands behind his head. Ruggie was quietly eating his lunch, quietly watching the dark-haired prince as he hummed to himself with eyes up to the sky. 

“Kantokusei-chan said she’ll come by again to clean, maybe after school.” Ruggie waited for a response. His tone was flat, much like his daily reports. Leona’s tail didn’t swish around in interest. His head unmoving and his store-bought lunch untouched. Ruggie thought of things to goad Leona. 

“I’m sure she’ll drop by to give you a thank you present or something—” Ruggie chuckled, a hint of teasing formed his sentence. 

“Whatever.” he drawled. Leona did not wait for her. Instead, he let her take her time and got ready somewhere else. He didn’t feel like staying in the same room after the sight of her, in that. 

He didn’t want anything from her. Leona didn’t want to think the prefect owed him anything. Quite frankly, he didn’t want to think about her at all. The amount of wanting and owning he had for her was only on a bare simmer. And he was well aware that, sooner or later— if he allowed it — he’ll want enough to carve his way into her life if he let it bubble away. He had the chance to kill the fire. And the prefect moving out of his room meant he would see her less. And he will have no chance to interact with her. 

For a second, it gave Leona a sense of relief. A kind of normality, after two weeks of abnormality. Leona focused on the feeling of relief. The relief of knowing the prefect wouldn’t have to put so much effort into getting to his good sides. The relief that she won’t have anything to do with him after the handover. Relief that she can sleep peacefully every night, without him. 

Without him. 

Leona tried to focus on the feelings of relief. 

Because the bitterness left on his mouth and the pang on his chest felt stronger. He didn’t think even her sleeping face could save him from that bitterness. 

“Leona-saaan! Why won’t you say anything? Are you really going to just leave things like this?” 

Ruggie once again tried. He stood up and sat in front of Leona. Eyebrows raised in confusion as he stared at the prince. Leona did not move, his eyes were closed. More like a sloth and less like a lion. 

“Leonaaaa-saaaaaan!” Ruggie grabbed the untouched sandwich bag and cheered. Leona not minding. A deep and heavy sigh escaping him. “Stop nagging.” 

“If you leave things lying around, people will take them.” Ruggie mumbled as he munched. Leona’s eyes were closed, but his one eyebrow rose in irritation. 

His ears twitched as he listened to Ruggie. 

To be continued....

Tagging: @ohno-otome @pseudofaux @shannie-writes ^ u ^

#Leona Kingscholar #Twisted Wonderland #Leona x Asami #Twisted Wonderland Leona #Onibeni

[autistic-stedebonnet]

3x05

•••

3x06

In which Winnie isn’t at the fair, and also, Gilbert isn’t courting her.

Anne adjusted her bow for the millionth time that day and smoothed down her perfectly unwrinkled skirts.

“Anne for goodness sake!” Marilla cried. “You’re acting as if we’re going to meet the Queen, it’s just Bash and Gilbert.”

Exactly, Anne thought to herself. Gilbert. Despite her apparent anxiety though, Anne was determined to have a wonderful day. This probably would’ve been easier if she wasn’t being forced to spend it with Gilbert though. She felt like a lamb to slaughter.

•

The ride to the fair passed soon enough. Thankfully Anne’s giddiness couldn’t be lessened by even the presence of Gilbert Blythe beside her. She bounced up and down on her heels as they waited in something that was more of an organized cluster than a line.

As soon as her cake was settled, Matthew and Marilla sent her off with 10 cents and instructions to stay with Gilbert, or Diana if they found each other.

Anne practically sprinted from the tent, half hoping that Gilbert wasn’t trailing after her. Who was she kidding though, of course he was right on her heels. He was like a baby goat sometimes, always following her.

“Is this your first county fair?” Gilbert asked casually

Anne closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was Gilbert. He was her friend and she would not allow herself to fly into a temper over her own internal conflicts. She nodded briskly at his question and continued weaving her way through the crowds, staring in awe at every booth, performance and extravagantly dressed person she could see.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” She sighed, not even realizing that she’d clutched Gilbert’s forearm in her joy. When she did though, she shoved him away forcefully and cleared her throat, turning her head to conceal her reddened face. Much to Anne’s relief, she spotted Diana at that very moment. Without so much as an explanation to the boy beside her, she ran off to her bosom friend.

“Diana!” Anne hissed, snatching the baffled girl’s arm. “I need to speak with you about a matter of utmost importance.”

After composing herself, Diana arched a knowing eyebrow. “Does this have anything to do with a certain young and may I say, very confused boy?” She asked, glancing over at Gilbert who was too far to hear their whispered conversation, but close enough to see Diana smirking.

“Yes it does!” Anne whined. “I have to spend the whole day with him, I don’t know what I’ll do!”

Diana let out an overly dramatic sigh. “You two are ridiculous.”

“Am not,” Anne retorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yes you are. He so obviously likes you, and you admitted your feelings for him just yesterday! Just go and tell him how you feel and live happily ever after.”

Diana’s face softened upon seeing Anne’s stricken expression. She placed a comforting hand on the redheads arm and smiled encouragingly. “Good luck, I have to go.” And with that, she left Anne alone with Gilbert Blythe and her horrible feelings.

•

“Anne, are you alright?”

Anne nodded crisply and forged onwards. “Yes Gilbert, I am perfectly content. I can’t imagine what would lead you to believe otherwise.”

“You’ve just been awfully quiet today, and normally when you’re excited you get very... passionate,” Gilbert explained, his voice becoming significantly more wary as the sentence continued. “I hope I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You did nothing of the sort, I’m just caught up in my thoughts.” Caught up in her thoughts indeed. But upon noticing a man selling ice cream, her thoughts seemed to be lost to the wind. “Oh, Gilbert!” She squealed, having forgotten her romantical predicament for a moment. “I haven’t had ice cream since the church picnic years ago!” She sighed, skipping over to the booth and pulling out her meager 10 cents. “Marilla claims it’s a right waste of milk, but I find the delicacy quite divine,” she explained to Gilbert, her back turned on the booth while she waited for her companion to join her.

But her sunny disposition was soon dashed as the seller proclaimed that she’d have to pay 12 cents for the ice cream.

“Oh drat!” Anne cried. “I’m just two cents short.” She examined the money in her hand with a disappointed sigh. “Oh well, I suppose Marilla would scold me for spending all my money on food anyhow.”

Gilbert cleared his throat and Anne looked up at him with an inquisitive expression. “Yes?”

“I, uh... I could give you the 2 cents,” he offered.

Anne gaped at him. “Absolutely not, Gilbert Blythe!”

“Why not?”

“I simply won’t have you wasting your money on me,” Anne said. “It’s only a minor disappointment, I do think I’ll live. And besides, there’s probably something more sensible for me to spend my money on anyhow.”

“Then I’ll pay the whole 12 cents. In fact, I’ll buy us both ice cream.” He smirked at her and stood up straight, proud to have rendered Anne Shirley-Cuthbert speechless, if only for a second.

“Wh-what, but, but I-“ Anne sputtered. “I didn’t ask you to, you don’t have to.”

“I’m not doing it out of obligation, I’m doing it because i’m trying to be nice!” Gilbert snapped, his frustration quickly growing. “We’re friends right?”

“Y-yes, we’re friends.”

“Then let me do something nice for you.”

Anne opened her mouth, then closed it again. A voice in the back of her head that sound strikingly familiar to Diana, told her to stop being so stubborn and let him do this. Then there was Cole, practically taunting her with the notion that Gilbert could ever like her. “Fine.”

•

Oh no. Oh noooo. No, no, no, no, no, no, no!

Anne’s eyes grew wide. There was no way she’d be able to pass by the tunnel of love with Gilbert and not blush profusely. She glanced around frantically, but she was already almost late and taking any other way to the cake competition would make her just that, late. If she just kept her head down and walked faster and- Gilbert stopped. Why did Gilbert stop?!

“Gilbert?” Anne squeaked, her entire body shaking like a rock during a violent earthquake.

“Anne, are you okay?”

“Yes i’m fine!”

“Really? Because we’ve been walking around for hours and the only actual conversation we had was you yelling at me,” Gilbert said.

“I-I don’t- I... ugh!” Anne dug her heels into the ground in frustration and clenched her fists at her side. Why couldn’t she just say it? Get it over with? Rejection was inevitable so what did it matter?

“Anne...” Gilbert’s expression was one of exasperation, but his eyes told a different story. They seemed to be digging straight into Anne’s soul, searching for something.

“Gilbert? Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious. Really, can I?”

“Go ahead.”

Anne pushed away the fact that they were directly in front of the tunnel of love and forged onward. “Why do you look at me like that?”

Gilbert blanched. “I... um... look at you like, like what?”

“Like you’re...” Anne trailed off, grasping for a way to put this into words. “Like you’re looking for something. Like you’re trying to see into my soul.”

Gilbert nodded slowly and stepped closer to Anne. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled that crooked smile that made Anne’s stomach do somersaults. “Because I am,” he replied simply.

“You’re... looking for... what?” Anne’s sentence was so quiet, no one but them could’ve heard it even in the most silent of rooms.

His eyes seemed to double in...whatever they were. They searched her, once again looking, hoping for something. “Anne, I...”

“You?...”

He cupped her cheek in his calloused hand and Anne was sure he could hear her heart pounding. She could’ve easily pulled away, ran like she always did. But she didn’t. She didn’t and then he was kissing her.

It was warm and safe and felt so incredibly right. For a split-second, Anne froze. Her muscles tensed and her entire body seemed to freeze over. But then he began to pull away and she realized that she didn’t want him to. She grasped the lapels of his shirt and pulled him closer to her.

There were no fireworks, or sparks, or rainbows, but there should’ve been. Because this moment, to Anne, felt as if destiny was being fulfilled. Like they were made of stardust from the same star, and were finally coming together after millennia of separation. Two coiled ribbons unraveling and twisting around each other in inexplicable harmony.

They finally pulled away from a desperate need for air, but their foreheads stayed pressed together.

“I love you Anne Shirley-Cuthbert,” Gilbert murmured.

Anne swallowed and bit the inside of her cheek. Love? He loved her? Did she love him? Of course she did. Denial was obviously not an option any more and it seemed as if that kiss had opened a door... no, not a door. It cleared a cloudy sky and revealed the golden sun.

“I love you too, Gilbert Blythe.” And then she jumped back and gasped. “Oh no, the cake contest!”

Gilbert laughed, a deep throaty laugh in which he threw his head back, turning his face to the sky.

“Oh I’m so late, oh no!” And with that, she ran, but for once, she wasn’t running away, she was barreling straight into something, and it felt so good.

#anne with an e #awae #anne shirley #anne shirley cuthbert #anne of green gables #gilbert blythe #shirbert #shirbert fanfiction #shirbert fanfic #shirbert fic #awae fanfiction #awae fanfic #awae fic #gilbert blythe x anne shirley #awae 3x06

[dorkyungsoowrites]

Eros

Pairings: Kyungsoo x You

Genre: Fluff | Jane Austen AU

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.4k

Description: Ancient Greeks insist that there are eight different kinds of love, each given a name that holds special meaning…Eros: passionate love.

A/N: Requested by someone whose name is lost to the ether (I’m sorry I hope you find this. I remember it was “Kyungsoo x Reader by a lake plus neck kisses”), and inspired by a post @monicaexol​ made here. Also because you seemed excited, @j-pping​.

| Storge | Eros | ?

There is strict protocol for how a lady's morning is carried out. There is fairly strict--but not as strongly enforced--protocol for her schedule the rest of the day on most occasions afterward. And there are supremely stringent rules to educate them with proper manners and etiquette, usually through classes. At last there are the most dangerous and exhilarating rules cultivated and given by society to every girl as she rises into a woman to prepare them for the rigors and wiles of men. One learns most of these by proxy. If one is blessed with a doting mother, or in fact perhaps sisters were the best teachers second only to the honest and civil conversation with a gentleman, one could be moderately informed of the absolute blunder that fondness breeds on first approach.

So was the path of all affairs before engagement. Gossip and whispers and rumors flew faster than a lark, and the bird that flew it there held the biggest sway in reputation. Promoting each attendant of a party at least a week before the occasion, with each household choosing their favorites. Particularly of the young men and women who were eligible for their matchmaker gambling. Encouraging men to dance with particular women to line their pockets with pride.

That was how most couples met. It was how you met your sweetheart. Your family tittered about the gentleman that had come to visit the hosts of the future soiree for the summer. Japing about his reputation for being curt and austere. In truth you had been intrigued by the tales of his character for it seemed that you should not wholly trust the word of the birds alone.

It was most wise to hold back judgment for when you arrived at the gathering, for you were afflicted in the heart the moment of introduction. Mesmerized by his dark, severe eyes; striking you immobile with but a moments gaze. The memory was as clear as glass in your mind. The shape of his eyes, the intelligence and intensity in his irises, the way your breath tightened as your bosom inflamed. Longing, lusting, light-headed. You'd never seen such eyes.

So were the eyes you sought out a month after the party. The morning had been much the same as any other; your handmaiden helped you dress. First was your shift; a plain cotton garment you often slept in. Then the simple clocked stockings, secured with ribbon garter at the knee. A petticoat was necessary for warmth and modesty. Then the stay was laced around your torso with a wooden busk center front for posture support and to keep the figure once the dress went on. Next were pockets which you enjoyed stashing trinkets in to take to your secret affairs. After a hip pad was added, the outer layers could go on. A petticoat, a white neckerchief that was tucked into the front of the stay to protect your neck and chest from the sun, and the actual gown. As the off-white material was laced at the front you gazed down at the pattern on your long sleeves. Little blue flowers were speckled everywhere, and you lamented the season of falling, an autumn's blush in the trees and on your cheeks. Lastly was the silk apron to separate you from the workers of the household, and shoes with little silver buckles. All together the outfit was quite hardy, and you were able to slink away after lunch past the garden and through a narrow wood to a lake.

It was often as a child your siblings would swim during the sweltering summers there. It was well secluded from prying eyes and ears, but the waters were far too chilled that time of year. The stillness reflected the trees encompassing the grounds, and in the center, the purest blue called out for your heart to shine with it; luminescent and alluring. Letting your mind wander. It was in those moments that the voice that had been torturing your thoughts smiled behind you.

"Would I offend you, if I were to admit how long a time I've watched you?"

A grin stretched your lips, turning to see him approach. A hand was lowering the hat from his head, allowing the short, silken ebony locks to shine under the brightness of noon. The black and white suit he wore was proper, however devoid of accessories it was. And he had dained to switch the regular coat for something of thicker cloth and longer gait, the hem brushing his calves. It was a navy hue, highlighting the horrifically vivid and ethereal glow to his tawny complexion. Your heart could not be tamed at his approach just as the ocean would never cease to reach for the shore.

"Instead I would offer a warning," you replied. "For you shouldn't stare at the sun too long."

The hat was discarded, forgotten on the grass as saltwater embraced the sand and tarried. A wry smirk twisted his lips as his eyes focused on yours. Always intense and enchanting, and the light reflecting enhanced the color within, the sun swimming among his whiskey irises. Intent on getting you drunk.

"Then let beauty blind me and allow my last sight to be of everything that is precious. You are the sun and stars. You are the mountains, and the fields, and rivers and lakes. Always to be cherished. Never to be violated. Only to be loved...vigorously."

Words which you had never thought would ever leave a mouth as pretty as his, let alone become a bastion for fondness; his lips tender on your neck after his stark proclamation. Air became a rare commodity, catching in your throat. The bawdy action sent ripples of excitement through your body, and you clutched him closer. The indecentness would serve as a warning but for the sentiment in his heart.

Their families had made different matches for one another before the night you met; smarter matches they would tell. It only revealed their ignorance on the subject of affection. For if there was never a coupling such as yours for the next century, then not another couple would suffer as greatly in a century if you were parted.

The pressures of high society had been choking him and you. The birds, and the parties, and loquacious old women so sapped of their own vitality in their dull lives as to make interfering with others' their sole hobby. There never seemed to be a caring hand; someone who didn't only seek the ends. Get married; nevermind the adventure in courtship. Nevermind reveling in the company of a kind intellect. Nevermind celebrating the magnificence of life steeped in wonder while laying entwined in soul, spirit and body. Nevermind love.

He was of a mind to yearn for conversation and contented silence with a partner. To stroll away and earn peace and happiness without a crowd or extraneous clothes and property. You wished the same, and in the space between, your passions collided; coalescing into something greater. Being wanted solely and completely as yourselves, you may be able to break through that foul and ugly mist that had strangled you both.

"Shall I never tire of your winsome character," you elated.

A gust of wind dusted your cheeks with chill and fluttered your skirts. His mouth stole another taste of your skin before pulling back to greet your gaze once more, inadvertently shielding you from the cold. You were acquainted with a mien he intimated was rendered by you unwittingly; warm and soft with a smile that could raze even the strongest of wills.

"The days after our meeting," he said. "I spent walking through gardens hoping they would drive away the heavy thought of care, and perhaps it worked as such for I am here, with you now...without a care in my heart but for you." Your mouth opened, but his words carried on before you could reply. "Despite what our respective relatives might assume, this hasn't been some summer dalliance for me, and as I know I must return home before we are beset upon by winter, I know I would be leaving my heart here with it. Therefore, with all my soul and self bared vulnerable, I would disclose one more thought...nothing would make me happier than to escort you home alongside me as my betrothed."

"Is...this a proposal?"

"With an answer that is yours to give as you please."

The lake's reflection rippled under the wind. He lifted a hand to your face and it betrayed his calm; trembling as fingers fondled stray locks of hair and moved them aside. Tumultuous tenderness as his drunken eyes studied every heartbeat.

To leave all you knew to venture with all you wanted to know. Rational thoughts absconded from your mind. To pretend you required to rationalize this at all was folly. You knew the answer, and when your love collided with his in a kiss, he did too.

#exowritersnet #kyungsoo x reader #kyungsoo x you #kyungsoo fanfction #do kyungsoo #Kyungsoo #exo fanfiction #exo scenario #fluff

[jacklyn-flynn]

After Hilamshiral, Cullen learns to dance because it made his sweetheart so happy to dance with him.

“Josephine, might I have a moment of your time?” Cullen nervously shifted from one foot to the other in front of the ambassador's desk. 

The Antivan’s smile, as usual, was brilliant. “Of course, Commander! How can I be of service?”

He took a steadying breath. “It was my hope that you might be able to arrange something for me. Dance lessons.” 

“Dance lessons?” Josie’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Uh-of course. When is the event you need to be ready for?” 

“No event.” He clarified. “Dorian was telling me how much Dejah enjoyed dancing together while we were at the Winter Palace. It was just a silly, simple dance from my childhood. I would like to learn something more-” He hesitated for the word. 

“Romantic?” Josephine asked wistfully. 

Cullen could feel his cheeks starting to burn. Judging by Josephine’s sly look, the blush was not going unnoticed. “Exactly.” 

“As it happens, I know many different dances from all over Thedas and would be happy to teach you some. I have time right now.” She offered, standing and stepping out from behind her massive desk. 

“Right now, right now?” Cullen asked, eyes widening in surprise. 

“No time like the present, no?” The mischievous grin made Cullen wonder if Dorian hadn’t gotten to her first. Or perhaps, she just liked to see him squirm as much as the mage did. Still, he would do anything for Dejah. “Did you have something more pressing? Another time perhaps?”

“Uh-no. Now is fine.” With a smile, he offered her his arm. 

“The War Room should be quite private.” She hooked her hand around his elbow. Cullen led her to their private dance studio and opened the door, letting her enter first. 

“You won’t plan on wearing all of that armor when you sweep our Inquisitor off her feet, are you?” Josephine’s teasing tone made him chuckle. 

“No, I suppose I’m not.” Cullen agreed. Josephine helped him remove it, setting it near the door so that they had plenty of room to practice. 

“Now, a proper dance requires the right kind of music. What exactly did you have planned?”

()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()

Cullen reverently laid the box on the bed and rested his note on top with a sprig of white lilacs. After several days of lessons with Josephine it was time to execute his plan. He checked himself in the mirror in passing to make sure everything was still in order. The black slacks were somewhat tight fitting which he wasn’t overly fond of. Dejah, however, enjoyed them. As she’d said; “Why should I only get to enjoy that beautiful butt behind closed doors?” 

His crisp white shirt was tucked in and he wore a slim fitting blue vest with silver embroidery. Despite his normal routine, he’d only paid partial attention to his hair. She liked it at the end of the day when it was slightly out of place so he tried to recreate that look for her now. 

Not wanting to accidentally catch her on his way to the gardens, he hurried down the stairs and took the back corridors. The garden was alive with color. Her favorite flowers were in full bloom. Dorian caught wind of his little plan and had done something to make their smell more intense. Not overwhelming, but not diluted by any of the other blossoms growing. 

He checked with the string quartet that Josephine had found for him. Only the Maker knew how. She was a miracle worker. The three violinists and single cellist were ready with a selection of music to go with the few dances he’d learned. Torches all around the gardens were lit, making the flowers dance with light and shadows. 

Cullen thought that waiting for her would be the hardest part of the whole night and it was. Although he had nervous energy to release, he didn’t want to be pacing when she arrived. Instead, he went though the dance steps in his mind, foot tapping to an imaginary tempo. 

“Cullen?” His name brought him back to reality and he turned quickly, finding her at the entrance to the gardens. He was completely taken aback by her. He’d gotten her a dress for tonight. Although the blue dress nearly matched the color of his vest, it was much more flattering on her. 

The sweetheart front was overlaid with delicate blue lace that rose higher up on her neck and traveled down her arms. A wide silver ribbon brought attention to her slim waist where the lace ended. The skirt of the dress was the same blue satin and it fell to her knees. She’d placed a small spray of the white lilacs behind her ear which was devoid of its usual jewelry. She wore only a set of simple black pearls in her lobes. Her flowing raven hair tumbled down her back in soft waves, likely from the braid it had been in most of the day.

“This is beautiful, vhenan. What’s the occasion?” He heard her speak but couldn’t respond. He could only stare at her. “Have I rendered you speechless?” she asked after a moment, a smile lighting up her face. 

He took a few steps toward her and offered his hand. “You always render me speechless, Dejah.” The murmur of reverence brought a beautiful rosy blush to her cheeks. 

The moment she took his hand, the quartet began to play a soft, soothing melody. He drew her in close and slid his free hand to her waist. Cradling her slim hand in his other, he started to lead her into a mellow waltz. She easily fell into step with him, letting him lead. 

“Did I forget my own birthday?” She asked with a smile, gazing up at him with eyes that made his breath catch. 

“Um, no,” he said, managing to smile. “I heard that you enjoyed our dance on the balcony at the Winter Palace. I didn’t really know any proper dances and the day was-well-terrible. I thought I would treat you to a proper dance.” 

“Cullen Rutherford,” she breathed out in awe, “you never cease to amaze me.” She moved a little closer and laid her head on his chest, tucked under his chin. His hand slid to the small of her back, thumb brushing back and forth. 

“I pray that will continue for many years to come.” He laid a gentle kiss on the top of her head and squeezed her hand. “I love you, Dejah. That you love me in return will never cease to amaze me.” 

“Then we’d best prepare for a lifetime of amazement, vhenan.” The breathlessness and emotion in her voice made his heart clench in joy. 

“A lifetime,” he said softly. “I’d best take some more lessons.” 

#headcanon du jour #special edition #cullen x dejah #lilacs are the bomb #dorian helps where he can #he's a sucker for a good romance #date night #dressed to match #Skyhold Prom #dance lessons #josie knows all the dances #josie knows all the things #josie's toes probably hurt now

[wistfulcynic]

On What They Fall 1 /4

SO this began life as a drabble. It was a teeny-tiny idea that I wrote on my phone in the middle of the night that grew and grew and GREW so now it is two chapters. And that is ALL. Because I can’t do any more than that. And also because then @thisonesatellite has to buy me a bottle of whisky 🥃. Heh heh. 

SUMMARY: Killian Jones is an angry young man. He has no family and few friends, and he’s stuck in a small town where everyone views him with fear and suspicion. 

Everyone but Emma Swan. 

She’s everything he wants in life and everything he can’t have. What he doesn’t know is that she wants him too. 

Part 9 of Secret Things. 

(There are hints at attempted suicide here, just light references but be aware if this is a trigger for you)

Rated: T 

On AO3

Tagging some folks who might enjoy it: @kmomof4, @stahlop, @mariakov81, @teamhook, @resident-of-storybrooke, @darkcolinodonorgasm, @shireness-says, @thejollyroger-writer, @ohmightydevviepuu (Give me a shout if you’d like a tag for Chapter 2 THE FINAL CHAPTER)

On What They Fall: 

It’s past one in the morning when she arrives at the bar where he’s drinking, a dingy little dive near the harbour. Young women rarely frequent it unless they mean business, which is one of the reasons he goes there. She though, she, with her hair and her face and her body in that soft pink dress, she stands out like… like an inflamed digitus primus manus.

She’d laugh if he said that to her, he thinks.

(Like a what now?

A sore thumb, Swan.

Well, why can’t you just say that?)

One a.m., he thinks. Not her birthday anymore.

--

Her eyes find him the minute she walks through the door. He’s slouching against the bar, all lean limbs and nonchalance, his eyes on the game of pool going on in the corner. Her mouth goes dry at the sight of him, as it always does. 

She wipes her palms on her skirt and makes her approach. 

“Hey, Killian.”

He turns and a small smile quirks the corners of his mouth, crinkles the edges of his eyes. It looks involuntary.

“Swan,” he replies.

She swallows hard as his voice seems to stroke her, sends a shiver up her spine. “Hi.” She attempts a smile. “I’m, uh, back for the weekend.”  

“So I see,” he says, pushing himself upright in one liquid motion. “Happy birthday.”

She tries not to read anything into the fact that he remembered. If he did remember. If he didn’t just deduce it from her presence here in the bar she was too young to enter until yesterday. She tries, but the hope in her heart doesn’t listen.

“Thanks,” she says.

He takes a small box out of his jacket pocket, square and flat and tied with a red ribbon that’s slightly crushed. He holds it out to her like a challenge.

“What— what’s this?”

There’s tension in his smile now, a brittle stiffness in his posture. “It’s a present, Swan, surely you’ve seen them before,” he snarks. “Quite a few of them I shouldn’t wonder.”

He’s deflecting, she thinks. He’s embarrassed to be offering her something.

She understands him far better than he thinks.

She takes the box from him with a shy smile and he relaxes just a fraction, but when she starts to untie the ribbon he almost lunges forward to stop her, letting his fingers brush hers just lightly before he yanks his hand away again. His fist clenches at his side. “Don’t open it here,” he says quietly.

“Why no—”

“Just, please, Swan. Don’t.”

“Okay.” She tucks the box into her bag and starts to ask him how he’s been when from the corner of her eye she sees a petite brunette waving at him from the pool table. He nods at her and gives her a wink, and the smile he directs at Emma turns dismissive. No, she thinks, feeling desperate. Not yet. He can’t leave now, it’s too soon, she’s barely seen him. She’s been looking forward to this for weeks and he’s just going to ditch her after a two minute conversation?

“If you’ll excuse me, Swan,” he says, but she doesn’t move.

“Another one, then,” she sniffs, letting her eyes flick towards the pool table.

His eyes are shuttered, defensive. “Aye,” he growls, “What of it?”

“Nothing, nothing.” She attempts to walk back from her catty remark. “It’s just... well, I guess it must be fun, all the attention. Women falling all over you wherever you go. But don’t you ever think—” She’s had a few drinks in other bars, liquid courage to help her come here and speak to him, and it loosens her tongue a bit too much. “Don’t you want to fall in love?” 

His mouth twists. “I am in love,” he says harshly. The words seem wrenched from him. “For all the bloody good it does me.”

She starts to laugh, but then she sees his face. “You’re serious!”

He smirks. Her heart clenches, stumbles in a chest that’s gone painfully tight as the room seems to shrink around her. Of course she knows he sleeps around,  he has since they were teenagers and never bothered to hide it. She’s even teased him about it, burying her hurt in humour and clinging to the small consolation that with her, with them, it’s different. He talks to her, sometimes for hours, and she’s always thought that maybe… once he stops being so angry at the world… maybe they might find their way to each other. She’s prepared to wait for him, for as long as it takes. But this… this she didn’t see coming.

“Who is she?” Emma asks, and her voice sounds so small.

His is flat, emotionless. “Someone who will never return my affections,” he says.

“So that’s why you...” She gestures at the brunette.

“Aye.”

“Does it help?”

“Not really.”

“Then why don’t you stop?”

He laughs, bitter and angry. “And do what instead? Sit at home and think about her? Fantasise about all the things I want and can’t ha—” he cuts himself off.

“You could—”

“Swan, please. I really don’t wish to discuss this with you. Just let me do my ‘man-whoring’ as you so charmingly call it, in peace.”

She puts her hand on his arm, holding her breath so he won’t hear how much touching him affects it. His arm is warm even through his jacket, the muscles hard beneath her fingers. Her heart tries to beat clear out of her chest. “I regret I ever said that,” she whispers.

He shrugs. “It’s okay. It’s the truth.”

He sounds breathless, and his jaw is tense. He pulls away from her touch, steps back. Gives her a small, mocking bow. “See you around, Swan,” he smirks. She stands for a minute, groping desperately for calm, and when she goes to look for him again both he and the brunette are gone.

--

She opens his present in bed, curled under the blankets in a private cocoon. It’s a pendant, a delicate rendering of a swan in silver filigree. It’s gorgeous. Her fingers tremble as she removes the necklace she’s worn for years, the one her high school boyfriend gave her. She has no idea why she’s kept it this long, perhaps as a reminder that sometimes when you think someone’s an asshole it’s because he is. She replaces it with Killian’s gift, then closes her fist around it and lets her tears fall. She would have been so happy receiving this just a few hours ago, she thinks. This thoughtful, personal gift. But now that she knows he’s in love, it feels like something he’d give a little sister, not a woman he might someday… but she can’t finish that thought.

--

She seeks him out the next day, down at the docks where he’s working on his boat. An old wreck of a thing he bought on his twenty-first birthday, one he’s been working to fix up for nearly two years.

“Are you ever going to be done with that?” she calls.

He grins, bright as the sunlight. “A ship is always a work in progress, Swan,” he says, patting the mast fondly. “But she’ll be seaworthy soon enough.”

She comes on deck and as she approaches his eyes land on the pendant, framed by the low neck of her shirt. Something flashes across his face, gone in the blink of an eye but she sees it, and she hopes again.

“I came to thank you for this,” she says, brushing her fingertips over the swan. “It’s beautiful.”

He shoves one hand into his jeans pocket, waves the other one dismissively. “It’s nothing,” he says.

“It’s not nothing, Killian, it was very thoughtful—”

His hand closes into a fist. “Don’t make a big deal of it,” he snarls. She doesn’t recoil. It’s always there, this anger, tightly coiled inside him and just waiting for a trigger. She’s used to it. She gives it time to recede, which it does, quickly, leaving him looking contrite. “I’m glad you like it,” he whispers.

“I love it.” I love you.

They stand in silence for a moment as he looks at his feet and she tries to will him to stop, to look at her instead. When he doesn’t she sighs. “I’m going back to school this afternoon,” she says. “I’ll be home again at Thanksgiving.”

“Perhaps I’ll see you then,” he mumbles.

He doesn’t look at her as she gets back in her car and drives away.

--

When she’s gone Killian kicks a coil of rope and then a bucket, then slumps against the boat’s rail, pounding it with his fist as he presses the heel of his other hand against his aching chest. He didn’t really think through how it would look, giving her that pendant. What she or anyone else might read into the gesture. He thought only that it was beautiful and she should have it. She deserves every beautiful thing, and it’s so rare he has a chance to offer her one.

He hopes she won’t tell her father who gave it to her. The sheriff is hostile enough as it is.

--

When Killian first came to Storybrooke his anger was sharper, more volatile. Fresh from losing first his brother and then his parents, with no close family left and still eight months shy of his eighteenth birthday, he’d found himself unceremoniously deposited on the doorstep of his distant cousin Belle, a woman hardly older than he was himself, in a small American town where everything from his clothes to his accent to his furious grief seemed to offend people. His first day at school three boys followed him home, taunting him, and before he could think he lashed out with fury and with his fists. He wasn’t big or particularly strong, but he knew how to fight and how to do it dirty and he laid all three out flat in the middle of Main Street with almost the whole town watching. All of them, staring at him with expressions of horror and disgust, all plainly writing him off as a violent troublemaker who would come to no good.

All but one. Emma Swan never looked at him with anything but compassion, with understanding, like he was someone who mattered— even when her father hauled him away to spend the night in a holding cell.

She appeared in the sheriff’s station hours later, bearing a cup of cocoa and an extra blanket. “It gets cold in here at night,” she said, offering them to him through the bars of the cell. 

Killian stared at her, waiting for the punch line, but she just smiled. “Go on,” she said. “Trust me, you’ll need them both.” 

Trust me. He took them, his fingers brushing hers around the warm paper cup. He blamed the shock, the comedown from adrenaline, the soul-deep exhaustion and the terrible fear that he’d fucked everything up completely when he’d only been in this town a day, for the next words that came out of his mouth. 

“Are you an angel?”

She laughed. “No. I’m Emma, the sheriff’s daughter. Emma Swan.” She held out her hand again, this time for him to shake. He did, and felt the shock of the contact to the tips of his toes. Emma’s eyes grew wide and her smile softened, and when she withdrew her hand she held his heart in it. 

--

He doesn't see Emma again until Christmas, when she and her friends return to his bar. Graham spots them instantly, sitting up straighter and waving them over, his face lit up with pleasure. Killian struggles not to envy the other man’s freedom to smile at Emma, to laugh and tease her. Graham is one of his few friends —too new in town to have any preconceptions about ‘that Jones boy’ and from the correct side of the pond, albeit the unfashionable side of the Irish Sea, Killian jokes when he wants to rile Graham a bit—but he’s also the Sheriff’s favourite deputy and a man that David would clearly welcome into his family with open arms, if the smile on his face whenever Emma and Graham are together is any indication. 

Graham greets Emma with a hug and a Merry Christmas, which she returns warmly. Killian’s jealousy is acid in his gut but he swallows it down, gives Emma a stiff nod and stands to go, to find someplace where he won’t be a third wheel. When Emma puts her hand on his arm to stop him he barely suppresses a flinch. Her touch burns him, makes him yearn for things that can never be his, and he is terrified of what he might do if it goes on too long. Carefully, he pulls away to just beyond her reach and hates himself for the hurt that flashes in her eyes. She tries so hard to be his friend, it’s not her fault he wants far more than friendship from her. 

“Do you have somewhere to be?” she attempts to tease him. 

He shrugs. “Just thought I’d give you two a chance to catch up.” 

“I saw Graham at Thanksgiving,” says Emma, and the acid threatens to choke him. Of course she did. Of course Graham was invited to her family’s celebration. “I haven’t seen you since my birthday. How have you been?”

“Same as always, Swan, nothing ever changes for me,” he replies, trying not to let the bitterness choke him. “I go to work, help Belle at the library, fix my boat. That’s the extent of my existence.” 

She looks like she wants to hug him and he takes a step back, fights the urge to flee. He’ll never fathom why she finds him worth talking to, why she continually seeks him out. It was different when she lived in Storybrooke, they had things to talk about then, but now she’s in college and her world has opened up while Killian’s remains the same narrow slog through the days and weeks and years of pointless grind that’s all he has to look forward to in life. He can’t think of anything to say to her now. 

“I’m going to play some pool,” he says. “Happy Christmas, Swan.” 

--

Emma fights her tears as she watches him go, pastes a smile on her face and turns back to Graham, whose bright, hopeful expression should be welcome but instead just makes her feel trapped. Her dad’s been dropping some less-than-subtle hints lately and she supposes she really should give Graham a chance. He's a great guy, sweet and funny, and she likes him a lot. He clearly likes her too, but he just doesn’t get her, doesn’t see her the way Killian does. Killian sees everything she is, and he understands all of it in a way that Graham and her friends and even her parents could never hope to. 

He’s caught so deep in her heart she can’t extract him from it, not without ripping herself apart in the bargain. Not even to please her father. 

But Killian is across the room determinedly ignoring her, and Graham is charming and funny and there, making her laugh and delighting her friends, and she likes him. When he asks her to dinner she hesitates, looks over to where Killian is leaning into a tall brunette, smiling his flirtatious smile as he toys with the ends of her hair. She swallows hard and pushes away her foolish hope. She says yes.

Graham is thrilled. He’ll pick her up tomorrow at seven, he says, and she agrees then leaves the bar before she can lose her hold on her tears. This is the right decision, she tells herself. Killian's in love with someone who is clearly not her; he doesn’t want her as she wants him and she has to accept it. She can’t keep keeping her hopes up when all he ever does is crush them. 

Killian claps his friend on the back and listens to him enthuse about Emma, how beautiful and kind she is, how he’s never felt like this about anyone before. He keeps a smile plastered on his face and makes all the right noises, nods in all the right places until he can't take it anymore and he slips away, hunching his shoulders and stuffing his hands deep in his pockets as he walks home. His mind is in chaos and his heart feels raw. He has no idea what to do. 

He buys a bottle of rum from the convenience store then goes home, sits down at the kitchen table and proceeds to drink the whole thing, one shot straight after another until the glass becomes a pointless waste of effort and he just drinks straight from the bottle. When it’s empty he takes out the half bottle he already had and finishes that off. Then he digs out the sambuca Belle got as a gift last Christmas. It’s still unopened. He drinks it all. 

When Belle wakes up that morning she finds him sprawled on the floor, barely breathing. She calls an ambulance, clings to his hand as they race to the hospital. Killian’s eyes flutter open. “Belle,” he croaks. 

“I’m here,” she whispers. 

“Don’t— don’t call Emma,” Killian begs. “Please.”

Belle nods, understanding. “I won’t.”  

--

At the hospital they pump his stomach. It saves his life, the doctor says. Acute alcohol poisoning can kill you.

“Shame it didn’t,” mutters Killian, and Belle looks at him sharply. She doesn’t think he did this on purpose but she’s not convinced it was wholly an accident.

“Killian I know you’re hurting but you have to stop doing this to yourself,” she insists, once the doctor has left. “Emma wouldn’t want—”

Killian pulls his hand from her grip. “Emma doesn’t give a damn,” he snaps.

“Now, you know that’s not true. She cares about you—”

He runs his hand over his face. “She’s a kind person, she cares about everyone. Not me in particular.”

Belle opens her mouth then closes it again. She’s tried to argue with him about this before but ultimately she knows there’s really no point— he’s got Emma on far too high a pedestal, he simply can’t believe she might love him.

And Belle knows from personal experience that he has to learn to love himself or he never will.

--

They keep Killian in the hospital overnight for observation. The next morning he’s released, and Belle comes to drive him home. Though they’re only very distant cousins she loves him like much closer family, calling him her ‘little nephew’ when he cheekily refers to her as his ‘Auntie Belle.’ He was only meant to stay with her until he turned eighteen, but by then they’d formed such a bond Belle offered to let him stay as long as he needed and he gratefully accepted. She doesn’t charge him rent but he insists on earning his keep, cleaning and cooking in addition to his job at the docks and his volunteer work at the library. He saves every penny he can and she knows one day he’ll leave. He was never meant to stay in Storybrooke forever. 

When they drive by Granny’s Diner and see Emma and Graham walking through its front gate together, Belle senses from Killian’s blank face and tense shoulders that the moment of his departure might be soon. 

When they get home she makes him sit down at the table and have breakfast, bacon and eggs and toast and strong coffee. He obediently eats it all, but his mind is clearly not on the food. 

“I’ve finished the boat,” he says. “She’s ready to sail.” 

“That’s great!” 

“Yeah. I was thinking I might go.” 

“Go where?”

He shrugs. “Just go. I’ve got enough money saved to last a while, if I keep things simple. I might just sail. No destination. See where the sea takes me,” he jokes with a faint smile. 

Belle nods. She’ll miss him but she knows he needs this. He needs something to help him see what he’s worth, and Storybrooke will never provide it.

Killian continues, his voice strained. “I just can’t bear to see Emma... to see her... I want her to be happy,” he says fiercely. “She deserves that. She deserves someone like Graham who has so much to offer her, and who her family likes. I just— I can’t watch it. I can accept that she doesn’t feel as I do. But I can’t watch her fall in love with someone else. I have to go.”

“I agree,” says Belle. 

“You do?”

“Yes. Storybrooke is my place, but I’ve always known it’s not yours. You’re always welcome here of course, but you have to go and discover what more the world holds for you. You have to find out who you are, Killian, because this…” she gestures at his wrinkled clothes and hunched shoulders, “…this isn’t it. You’re so much better than this.”

He snorts. “I’m really not.”

“You are. I’ve always believed that. Now go find a way to believe it yourself.”

--

Killian leaves at sunrise the next morning. He doesn’t say goodbye. It’s Belle who tells Emma he’s gone, watches as her face goes deathly pale and tears slowly fill her eyes until they overflow and pour in rivulets down her ashen cheeks. She doesn’t make a sound.

Finally she whispers, “He left?”

Belle nods.

Emma’s voice drops until it’s nearly inaudible. “Is he coming back?”

Belle answers truthfully. “I don’t know.”

Tears cascade down Emma’s face and drip off her chin, leaving splotches on her blouse. She doesn’t notice. “How,” she whispers. “How could he… why…”

Belle is torn. Killian’s feelings aren’t for her to share, but it’s so obvious his leaving has broken Emma’s heart and Belle’s heart breaks for her. She has to give Emma something.

“Killian… he has some things to sort out,” she says. “A lot of anger. Unhealed scars from his childhood.”

“His brother,” says Emma automatically. Belle is surprised, she had no idea Killian told Emma about Liam.

“Yes,” she says. “And his parents.” Emma nods in understanding; so she knows that story too. “He just—” Belle thinks of how to say what Emma needs to hear without saying it. “He doesn’t have anything to offer another person right now.”

“He does,” says Emma fiercely. “He just doesn’t believe it.”

Belle studies the younger woman closely as realisation begins to dawn, wondering how Killian could possibly be so blind. She’s always known Emma cares for her nephew more than he is able to see, but this— this is a love as deep as Killian’s own. She tries to think of something to say, some comforting platitude to give, when Emma speaks again and floors her. “He wants to get away from her, doesn’t he?” She spits the pronoun with so much venom Belle is alarmed by the shift in her mood.

“Who?” she asks.

“The woman he loves.”  

“He told you he’s in love with someone?” Killian, it seems, has revealed rather a lot of very personal things to this woman he claims could never be interested in him.

“Yeah.” Emma’s face crumples and she finally sobs. “He did. Do you know who it is?” 

Belle can’t lie, not about this. “Yes,” she says. “But it’s not—”

“Not your secret to tell. I get it. But is she the reason why he…”

“Yes,” Belle replies. “To a large extent she is.”

Emma nods, sobbing harder, and her nose begins to drip. She sniffs and looks around for something to wipe it, and gratefully accepts the handkerchief Belle hands her. She dries her tears —for all the good it does as they don’t stop falling— and blows her nose then looks helplessly at the sodden mess of cloth in her hand.

“Keep it,” says Belle. “It’s one of Killian’s.” She doesn’t miss the way Emma’s fingers tighten on the small scrap of fabric.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and presses the handkerchief against her heart.

Killian, my lad, you’ve fucked things up something proper, thinks Belle.

#cs fic #cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan #angst #mutual pining #secret love #pining idiots #idiots in love #for real you'll want to bang their heads together #a bit modern au captain duckling #sort of #Emma is raised by her parents in Storybrooke #and Killian is very angry #on what they fall #profdanglaisstuff

[purrfectlycontent]

hey, let’s escape (to somewhere far away)

As the sun sank deeper into the depths of twilight, Adrien waited.

Silently, he examined the sack on his bed. It was stuffed to the brim with plain, brown clothes. Clean, but just enough so that he would mingle with the other townsfolk. He had already scrounged up as many livres as he could–all with the face of the current King Bourgeois, of course–though he suspected they would be rendered useless soon.

He wasn’t planning to stay within the country, after all.

Though he shivered to think of what would happen when his father discovered him missing, he also knew that he would be long gone by then; a free man, both physically and emotionally with nothing to stop him from doing whatever he wanted.

Of course, Adrien wouldn’t be going alone. As ashamed as he was to admit that he would not be able to survive the trip alone, he could think of no better companion than his lovely Lady.

He glanced out the window yet again, anticipation curling in his stomach. Just thinking of her phantom touch–one that he could still feel hours after he had left her last–and the warmth of her gentle hands in his had him burning with impatience.

It was the cruelest form of torture he had ever had to experience.

As the clock on his wall ticked to midnight, he grinned. Hoisting the sack over his shoulder, he opened his balcony door to climb down. “Here I come, my Lady.”

His bedchamber was high above the ground. It would be impossible to leap down without spraining something, but Adrien had been escaping his father’s manor since he was a young boy. He knew the most efficient way to get down and avoid injuring himself in the process.

The thrill that came from sneaking out under the blanket of stars was not particularly new to him, though it still felt much like the first time he had done it.

Adrien spotted a silhouette as he neared their meeting spot. The small form was etched into his mind, a painting that successfully took his breath away. She turned and their eyes met, blue on green, the dark hair cascading over her shoulders held up by the ribbons he had gifted her when he had first started pursuing her heart. Just as he started to believe that nothing could look more beautiful, her face softened into an excited grin that caused his stomach to swoop and his face warm.

It was much like a young boy experiencing his first love.

By the time she had opened her arms, he was halfway to her.

The pressure he didn’t realize was resting on his chest suddenly lifted. Merely being by her side was like a much-needed breath of fresh air.

She giggled as he buried his face into the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent. “Hello to you too, my Knight,” she spoke, her voice soft and adoring.

“I missed you,” he murmured against her skin. His hands were wound around her waist, pulling her close to him; certainly not an appropriate embrace for a nobleman and his lover in public, but Adrien found that he could care less. He felt her hand slip through the tresses of his hair and melted, his pulse calming under her touch.

“We saw each other the other day,” she reminded him not unkindly, yet she tightened her hold on him. “I missed you too.” Her affirmation was a quiet thing, blooming flower buds and the sound of water lapping against the bed of the Seine on a sunny day.

Barely holding back the urge to kiss her, he tore himself away from her side. “We should go,” he glanced around, observing their surroundings. “I don’t know when my father will discover I’m gone, but I’d rather not be here when he does.”

Marinette nodded, picking up the sack near her feet (which he hadn’t noticed before, as he was busy accosting her) and dusting off her dress skirt. “Right then,” she replied briskly. “Where to?”

“Someplace far away from here,” Adrien said, a small smile gracing his lips. Truthfully, he could care less where they went.

All he knew was that wherever she decided to go, he would follow.

title from nontitle by mafumafu

ao3

#gon writes fics #ml #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #fanfiction #ml fanfiction

[ike-sol]

n o a h

I absolutely love family tropes, so here’s a little fic about Jonah meeting the child he’s going to adopt. Mention of Jonah x OC, but the central theme is about exploring Jonah’s character, especially as a father. I haven’t posted OC profiles yet, but I hope you enjoy! Happens 8 years after the war.

---

“From the top, now- one, two, three, four-!”

The children began to sing on Jonah’s cue. He kept beat with a baton, leading in the sopranos six measures after the altos. They weren’t necessarily the best, but they sang with so much soul that even Jonah felt like tearing up. Those could have been tears of pride, though - they’ve come a long way since he first started giving singing lessons at the orphanage.

The children too young to join the choir, and those who simply had no interest whatsoever, gathered around anyway, drawn in by the sound of music. It was good for the choir, too, to practice singing before an audience, even if the audience were their friends. It would prepare them for the performance on the upcoming holiday - the 8th anniversary of Cradle’s peace.

He glanced at the children, some old enough to remember the warring days, some who had been born years after the peace treaty. A promise for the future. He looked over each face while keeping beat, listening to their notes, and, for half a moment, someone in the ‘audience’ caught his eye - Luka?

No.

Of course not.

His younger brother was an impressive man, now, too, with a family of his own. And yet, there was something about that little boy standing off to the side, something that made him double-take. Jonah hadn’t seen him before. He looked to be about 3, with a mess of black hair, and light blue eyes that betrayed a deep haunting. It made Jonah’s soul ache. He knew the look the boy carried in his eyes. The one that, if god was real, should never exist in someone so young.

He’d looked upon it in Luka’s eyes when they were young, when their parents’ negligence drove them to find comfort in one another, to try to make sense of the world they were so irresponsibly cast into. Sometimes, in the mirror, he caught it staring right back at him.

It was a look he hoped to never see in his own children. Spilled tears over broken toys and stolen sweets (though both very real problems to Nellie and Gil) were depthless, inconsequential, in comparison to that profound sadness the boy held. Loneliness. Isolation.

The song came to an end, and Jonah offered them all a huge grin, “Great job! It’s getting better and better. We’ll be ready in time for the performance.” With practice over for the day, the children began to disperse, and the Queen was about to go back to red territory, but first--

“Hey there.” Jonah was kneeling down by the boy before he even fully realised what he was doing. “What’s your name?”

The boy had been staring at him (nothing new for the Queen of Hearts), and must’ve been taken by surprise, pulled out of his monologue of thoughts. He blushed and cuddled closer into the teddy bear he was holding as if to hide his face, as if to disappear into his shyness. But he didn’t walk away.

Jonah recognised the bear. It was one of the gifts he’d bought for the orphanage last Christmas. It came from the best toy shop in red territory (he’d be damned if his donations weren’t top tier!), where each animal was specifically tailored with such detail and dedication that no two were alike. Like snowflakes. He’d bought both his children stuffed animals of their own, along with dozens of other toys, from the very same shop. The teddy bear was light brown, soft and fluffy, though its fur was already a little matted from constant cuddling. The little button-up shirt it wore was frayed. One button hung loosely, while two others were already long lost. Once white, it was now a soft grey.

But its eyes held the same sort of warmth as loved toys do, worn down with affection, but with thousands of stories to tell - each full of adventure. It was as well-loved as Nellie’s sheep, as Gil’s cat.

“What’s your teddy’s name?” He asked with a gentle smile.

“...Fluffy.” The boy murmured, peeking over the top of his head to - for a moment - look Jonah straight in the eye. He thought he saw a shadow of a smile grace his lips - but perhaps that was just wishful thinking. He wanted to see the boy smile, with the same unrestrained glee that all children deserve.

“And what’s Fluffy’s favourite color?”

“Purple.”

“Oh yeah? He has good taste.”

He’d be patient. It was a skill Jonah was forced to learn over the 5 years of parenthood he’d had so far. Soothing Nellie’s cry over her scrapes and bruises, coaxing Gil to eat his vegetables, listening to them both sing the same song over and over and over again-- Rose had always had more patience than he. But he’d learned, and he wasn’t the same testy man he’d been years ago.

But he was as stubborn as ever. He’d set his mind on getting this boy to open up to him. To show him a genuine smile. To make him feel safe.

~*~

The next time Jonah visited, he found himself looking for the little boy from last time immediately. He usually came to the orphanage once a month or so, when he had a day off while Rosie worked (or they came together, but that was rarer now - they’d rather spend the day with their family). But Jonah couldn’t help himself - he was back here a week after his last visit.

He didn’t see the child, though. The thought crossed him that, with his shyness, the boy usually stayed away from visitors, and that’s why he hadn’t seen him before. But he pushed those thoughts aside for now, and took to another task - reading. The older kids were off at school, but those not quite old enough for it, but old enough to want to start reading, were delighted to have a buddy. He sat down by a boy, just about Nellie’s age, and opened the picture book he’d brought with him.

For a moment, a wave of bitterness overcame him - he should be home with his own kids right now, flipping through picture books on his lap. But he had a responsibility here, too. These kids deserved just as much love as any others. He’d shower his children in adoration the moment he came back, until the moment they drifted off to sleep. Besides - they were surely off playing with their friends at this time.

“Dog!” The boy interrupted Jonah, pointing to the word in big letters. He was just learning to read short, easy words, and the pride Jonah felt must have rivaled his own.

“Very good!” He praised, and the boy beamed, even as they continued to read it out loud.

He’d noticed then, quiet footsteps, a muffled gasp. From the corner of his eye, Jonah recognised the boy he’d been looking for, carefully hidden behind one of the bookshelves. Gilbert, too, was naturally shy, hiding behind his mother’s skirts and, when his father picked him up, hiding his face against his chest, so Jonah knew not to frighten this little boy away. Though Gil never shied away from his own parents, he knew what to do in theory. He watched him watching him for a moment, but didn’t move his head at all, and quietly savoured the feeling of the boy’s growing confidence.

It was only when the picture book was finished and the boy scampered away to play with his friends that Jonah turned and acknowledge the dark haired boy.

A smile. “How’s Fluffy doing?”

Slowly, hesitantly, the boy stepped towards Jonah, still clutching the same brown teddy tightly to his chest. “...Good.”

Single word answers, Jonah noted. But even so, he’d count this as a success. “I have a gift for Fluffy.”

He watched the boy’s eyes widen at the irrefusable offer of a gift, and then - just for a moment - curiosity seemed to overpower the hesitance he held.

“What is it?” He took a step closer, and another, and another.

“Here,” Jonah held out his hand with a small cloth pouch, “Will you open it for him?”

He nodded and took it from him with his little hand, and, shifting the teddy to fit snugly between his arm and chest, pulled on the ribbon of the pouch. He fished out a little shirt, made for a teddy bear. It was white cotton, edges embroidered in rich purple, with buttons and a bowtie to match. The boy’s eyes widened, and after a moment he held it out to Jonah, whose heart fell - was he giving it back? did he not like it? - until he realised he was holding out his teddy as well.

“Can you put it on?” He asked shyly, and a moment later, as if remembering himself, added - “Please.”

“Of course.” Jonah’s expression softened into a smile, and he took both items from the child. He took off the old shirt, which was practically falling apart in his hands, and expertly dressed the teddy again, deft fingers buttoning it up and tying a neat bow beneath his collar.

And as the boy took Fluffy back into his arms, he turned to Jonah and nearly blinded him with the brilliant smile he wore. “Thank you, mister.”

It was as bright a smile as his brother’s, as his wife’s, as his daughter’s and son’s. Its warmth seemed to melt away, if only a little bit, the cold exterior on the boy. A ray of sunshine tugging him out of his shyness. For a moment, Jonah was rendered speechless. It was almost jarring to see this joyful expression, from however simple means, on a face that had been so desolate before. This was exactly the sort of expression a child should be wearing, he thought. And so, he’d try again--

“What’s your name?”

“Noah.”

“Noah,” he repeated. A good name. It fit him. “Would you like to read with me?”

~*~

“Rosie,” Jonah began one day, about two weeks later, as they were getting ready for bed. Nellie and Gil were long asleep in their own rooms, exhausted from a full day of playing and following Laurel around like puppies. “Do you still want to adopt?”

She was braiding her hair for the night, and stopped halfway to turn to glance at her husband. Her expression - borderline dangerous, as if tensing in anticipation to fight him. Okay, maybe he should have worded that a bit differently - he knew exactly what she was thinking.

“I do.”

They talked about it since before they were married. Rosemary had insisted from the very beginning that she had the intention to adopt at least once, and if he didn’t agree - they just wouldn’t work out. She’d been very clear on that. It hadn’t been the easiest conversation, way back then.

Jonah had told her about how he and his brother were bullied mercilessly, just for being pretty; he couldn’t imagine what torments a child adopted into the Clemence family would have to face. He didn’t want to put anyone through that, ever. Not if he could prevent it. But no matter how protective, no matter how vigilant, he knew that they as parents would only be able to do so much. It would be unfair to the child, to take them in, knowing what difficulties awaited.

But Rosie had insisted, and said that she’d have been willing to go through that, so why not try? A loving family, no matter the other difficulties, was better than no family. And so they compromised. They would adopt. But not as their first child, for the added burden of Queen (and all the bureaucracy surrounding it) would be far too much for anyone to handle, at least in this generation. But an adoption nonetheless.

And then she’d gotten pregnant, with Nellie, half a year after their wedding. Gilbert came two years after her. She was almost six, and he just turned four. And - they were expecting another child now. Rosie was just barely beginning to show, now in her third month.

Careful to say the right words this time, Jonah walked over to his wife, leaning down to press a kiss against her cheek. “In that case, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

#ikemen revolution #jonah clemence #ikerev jonah #ikerev #oc #i love family fluff #jonahs gonna be such a great dad #proud #spoil his kids #shower them in love every single day #i'll set up proper oc profiles for my babies soon i promise #if anyone's interested at all lol

[chiseler]

The Last Light

There is a moment in David Lynch's Twin Peaks: The Return that on its incandescent surface could have been lifted, weightless, from the great post-war dream of materialist deliverance: The top on the convertible is down, the radio on; The Paris Sisters are singing I Love How You Love Me as a reincarnated Laura Palmer lifts her face to a cloudless sky. Within the tapestry of this early Phil Spector production — his trademark reverb eternally associated with Romance and Death (two conditions Spector knew all too well) — the voice of Priscilla Paris is a siren sound from the American Beyond. We could be hearing a dream goddess lullaby from the whispering gallery, or sweet nothings from the crypt. We don't know. We'll never know. Just as Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood keeps us guessing with the elusive murmur that “Sharon Tate will never die,” granting her a gaudy, wondrous L.A. to cavort in where it's 1969 forever and movie stars still matter, so we find ourselves in Tarantino’s version of paradise (complete with flame throwers to the face). In this oneiric echo chamber, momentarily shared by Lynch and Tarantino, Surrealism smiles down upon a vision of American blondness; muscle cars soaked in sunlight; the terrible ecstasy of unending motion; candy for the eye and ear.

David Lynch’s favorite film, to this day, remains Otto e Mezzo, directed by Western Europe's sorcerer of confectionary delights, Federico Fellini; the man who put the “dolce” in La Dolce Vita. And here you have a fleeting taste of ideologies swirled together and spun like ribbon candy: a blur of four-wheeled luxury from the New World, zooming past regional splendor into that fraternity of man: the socio-economic nirvana imagined by Karl Marx.

Careening from one via to another at harrowing, white-knuckle speeds, Fellini was heard to lament that “Some of the neo-realists seem to think that they cannot make a film unless they have a man in old clothes in front of the camera.” George Bluestone, recording these words in 1957 for the pages of Film Culture, was sittings in the literal passenger seat of the ideal metaphor of post-war ebullience in action: that famous Black Chevy skirting the Italian Scylla (the Vatican) and its equally dogmatic Charybdis (the Party); expert, 20th century precision guiding them through Roman streets with graffiti-scrawled churches proudly bearing the hammer and sickle. At those velocities, anything could make sense.

“What for you is the greatest human quality?”, Bluestone asks. Fellini responds, “Love of one’s fellows,” a period-appropriate oath that rings true to his brand of ecumenical solidarity.

“The greatest fault?”

“Egoism.”

Try, if you will, to imagine our more locally sourced egoists nodding along with Fellini in soulful agreement on that one. As a kind of compatriot of Edgar Allan Poe, David Lynch (and, to some extent, Tarantino) spawns from his abiding axiom that “The death of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetic topic in the world.” In Lynch’s hands, American television has become a brightly lit seance for Poe’s ethereal dead. Immortal creatures afflicted with the dream of physical existence, then afflicting the dreamers. Twin Peaks: The Return modifies Poe's axiomatic truth with great help from Amanda Seyfried's Becky and her pair of visionary's eyes, melting Spector's dark edifice of sugar in deathless, Sternbergian close-up — iridescent search lights, ever more urgently scanning the sky above for a sun to swallow her whole. We can only witness and internalize this shimmering ingenue trading places with Old Sol, as if the drugs she's consumed have entered our system and not hers.

Filmmakers like Fellini and Lynch celebrate bodily extremes in intriguing, if differing ways that should naturally gallop right beyond the pale but nevertheless become wholly, weirdly digestible. It is perhaps the innocent glee, even wonderment, of these artists in the vast variety of shapes the human body can assume; innocence which acts as a giant eraser for every awareness on our part of how physical representation in the age of political correctness is meant to function. Lynch is able to present the disabled as by turns childlike, mysterious or magical beings without ever worrying about lending them agency (The Elephant Man's John Merrick is a passive whipping boy for seemingly the whole of Victorian London) or the lie of adult sophistication (the latest Twin Peaks iteration includes a pint-sized hitman who whines like a puppy when his icepick is broken).

Fellini's dwarfs and grotesques, on the other hand, emerge from the struggle of a one-time Marc'Aurelio cartoonist willing one-dimensional images into three-dimensional embodiment. His big women, of course, are fetish figures. They always were. Gargantuan beauties, evidence of a sexual ideal formed in infancy: the big Italian mammissima, seen from below. As Fellini grew into a rather large adult himself, this ideal was simply re-scaled accordingly (even the icy mountain of Anita Ekberg takes on new implication). Goddesses all, they are, however, not meant for conventional movie stardom.

And what of Tarantino? Once Upon a Time's Margot Robbie IS the no-longer-doomed Sharon Tate as she watches herself on the big screen; enjoying a thrill that few have ever known so guilelessly that any half-baked charges of narcissism shrivel to nullity before they can escape a single throat. Here before us is an essential glimpse into the vanishing phenomenon of movie stardom itself, reflexive handwringing from the woke balconies notwithstanding. Tarantino has at last achieved something transcendental: even his grotesques — slack-jawed, gap-toothed, gormless members of the Manson Family conflated with more contemporary Identitarian cultists on the lookout for 'Lookism', knives unsheathed — are downright mythic. Robbie's Tate is a visage both generically perfect and possessed by the angels, every one of them a blond resident of LA County, sincere and unknowable as desert light.  

The vampires, creatures of night slain by sunlight, infiltrated the movie theaters in the 1920s and never left. They sit next to us in the dark, having ceded the power to hypnotize us to the glowing screen itself. Photochemical vagaries invariably allow movie darkness to behave in impossible ways; as if the physical properties of film itself knew no rules, and thus invited us to accept its essential anarchy without question. Before us is a darkness that GLOWS.

A Black & White image flipped into negative can produce black fire, or the black sunlight which illuminated the Transylvanian forests of Nosferatu, through which a box-like carriage rattles at Mack Sennett speed. But with only the smallest underexposure, a little dupey degradation of the print, or even a little imagination (such collaboration is not discouraged), this liquid blackness will spread anywhere, everywhere; the most luminous pestilence known to creation. Be it in the laughing nightmare of Fleischer cartoons of old (Out of the Inkwell, indeed) or Jean Epstein's photogenie phantasmagoria, we're left to wonder. Is daylight burning out the corner of a building, or is it the blackness of the building which is eating into the sky? As with so many such questions, film permits us no answer. We are to simply watch as characters smudge, their shadows emanating out beyond themselves, pulsing and flickering with an obsidian internal flame.

By the time Jean Epstein adapted The Fall of the House of Usher in 1928, it could wisely be said that Poe had been already aggrandized through the mechanism of carbon-arc projection; which is but one way to say that the vision that once seemed unharnessable, had at last been industrialized. Dragooned. Pressed into an ever more modern service at a pace to be measured in frames-per-second. Artists like Epstein and Chomon were the first generation to wield an immense cultural and commercial instrument; at once abidingly real and totally incomprehensible. No medium of expression predating cinema could so thoroughly lift audiences from linear time, or could as convincingly, in the words of Jean Epstein, render death as a conscious state.

Transcendentalism barely scratches the surface here. A more apposite term — the one he nuances in his film theory, “photogenie” (a genesis out of light) — pulls transitory moments, otherwise escaping human perception, into focus. If Poe engrosses us in Romantic conceptions of death as a means to visionary truth, Epstein reveals that same supposedly “elusive” end in our earthly world of telephones, sports cars, Kodak cameras for the every-man and moderne manicures for up-to-the-minute dandies.

The Victorians were falling away. And with them a system of reality contained in narrow, overwrought performances. Withered technique as a means of reflecting Nature — or, to quote Balzac, the “conjugation of objects with light” — was displaced, uncrowned by Jean Delville’s Death (1890), which embodies an altogether different kind of virtuosity, one no Academy could ever comprehend. The charcoal drawing and ode to Edgar Allan Poe’s Masque of the Red Death yearns with a combination of verve and starkness toward a capital “G” Gloom destined to escape salons.

Coming of age in a series of shady elsewheres — the fairgrounds, nickelodeon parlors and movie palaces of an Edwardian America — nitrate and its twinkling mineral essence gave Poe's crepuscular light its time to shine and  thereby illuminate the world. No longer held in the solitary confinement of a page of reproduced text or an image, however still, rendered in paint or ink. Poe's singularly tormented vision was finally written alchemically, in cinematographic rays beamed through silver salts; into moving images of such aggressive vitality as to blast every rational thing from one's mind.

All hail magic mirrors! Celestial mandalas! Giant eggs and butterfly women! Segundo de Chomón's The Red Spectre (1907) ruthlessly invades our eyes with a wraith-magician dissolving through his coffin lid in a red, hand-tinted, flame-flickering hell. His caped, skull-masked presence was to herald the manic new thespic truth that, from this moment forward, the art of acting is in how you respond to light, and how light responds to you. The Specter of Chomon's dark bauble is in every element Poe's Red Death — japing and performing tricks for us, his adoring fans and welcome guests, before announcing our doom — literary metaphor slammed against a literal backdrop of amber stalactites, pellucid as an ossuary.

Doctor Pretorius might have been musing on the history of cinema in 1935’s The Bride of Frankenstein when he said: “Sometimes I have wondered whether life wouldn't be much more amusing if we were all devils, no nonsense about angels and being good.”

by Daniel Riccuito, Tom Sutpen and David Cairns

[niksfiks]

Threads - A Challenge Entry

Originally posted 11/10/18

TITLE: Threads

AUTHOR: Nikkalia (niksfiks)

PAIRING: Loki/OFC

RATING: So very NSFW

SUMMARY: You’ve been avoiding Loki for weeks, citing a determination to finally end an on-again, off-again relationship that’s gone on for far too long. The God of Mischief has other ideas. 

NOTES/WARNINGS: Smut-ishness

PROMPT: “We need to talk.”

You’d have been happy to go to any ball in the Nine Realms except this one. The palace seated at the heart of Asgard always made you cringe whenever you visited, caused by an unsettling feeling of dread that seemed to hang in the air of the throne room. But the unpleasant sensations rolling in the pit of your stomach were coming from a different source. He’d be there, and you’d have to deal with the fallout of your decision to abandon your relationship, such as it was, with him.

Loki had noticed you ages ago at a ball, not unlike tonight. He’d charmed you - said all the right things, made all the right gestures and wooed you in near record time. It wasn’t difficult to see the attraction between you both. You shared the same interests and intellect, and honestly enjoyed each other’s company. No one balked at the idea of the prince and an ambassador’s daughter as a couple, and with Thor gaining headway in the race to the throne, you and Loki were content to simply be with each other. 

When your father took ill the first time, he decided that you would follow in his footsteps and began to train you in the responsibilities of ambassadorship. Loki was excited for you in the beginning as you traded letters of your travels with him. Over time, the stream of letters began to slow to a trickle, then ceased completely. A brief letter from the queen told you not to believe all of the rumors that would swirl about Loki when you once again visited the palace, but it didn’t prepare you for what you found upon your return to Asgard: a courtier straddling his lap, skirts around her waist and tongue down his throat. You swallowed your hurt and your pride and went back home the same day. 

You stood in front of the golden mirror, toying with a braid of black mixed with faded ribbon in your hair as the maids added the finishing touches to your ballgown, thinking back on the argument that followed. The tears, the screaming, the reconciliation - the vicious cycle that continued until your father’s death two seasons ago. Thor attended in Odin’s stead, offering the condolences of the family and a letter from his brother. You gladly accepted the first but refused the second, telling Thor there was nothing left to be said. 

The halls leading to the ballroom were thick with people and laughter, costumes and ball gowns swirling and floating around. You thanked the Norns that you could hide behind your mask, taking every response of shock and surprise at your identity as a personal triumph. How beautiful you’d grown, they said. How like your father you looked. How envious they were of whatever man had captured your heart. You smiled and thanked each for their kindness, not divulging that you’d never allowed another soul to even have a chance with you. 

Food and drink and music moved the night along, much to your relief. While you’d made your formal presentation to Odin and Frigga, their youngest was nowhere to be found. Thor embraced you with the expected bear hug, introducing you to his friends and his beloved Lady Sif. You found yourself laughing at Fandral’s jokes despite his reputation, and even allowed him to persuade you to dance. It was a proper waltz, followed by another, followed by something a little slower. You never noticed that Fandral pulled you a little closer with every turn until you felt the heat of his breath on your cheek. What could it harm, you pondered, to indulge his request to step out onto the balcony? Just as you decided that whatever fallout came would be minimal and forgotten within a day or two, the energy of the air shifted. The voice that rendered you useless and furious all at the same time sounded in a low growl. 

“Fandral. My lady Y/N.” 

You looked up to the darkened face suddenly standing next to you. Emerald green eyes glittering in the light distracted you from the arm that was already making its way around your waist. You thought you heard Fandral curse under his breath before speaking.

“Loki,” he sighed. “I suppose you want to cut in?” Loki snarled an affirmative, never taking his eyes from you. Fandral looked at you as well and abandoned his quest. “My lady,” he kissed your hand, garnering a louder growl from his successor, “it has been an absolute pleasure. I do hope to see you gracing the dance floor again soon.” 

You didn’t even have time to acknowledge him before Loki spun you away, pulling you both into the sea of dancers. You lost count of the songs that were played or steps taken locked in his arms. How you wished you could peer into his mind. He never spoke, never broke his gaze, his grip on your hand firm yet gentle. Your heart pounded in your chest from the sheer terror and excitement of being this close to him again. He was as intoxicating as ever. 

Logic struggled for dominance when you became aware that he was directing your steps to the edges of the ballroom. He released your hand but not your waist, leading you to the halls outside, then a secluded terrace not far from his rooms. Before you could form the thought to speak, he spun you around, crushing his mouth against yours as he backed you against the wall. 

“Loki! Stop!” you cried, pushing him away.

“Why?” he panted, lust burning in his eyes. 

“Because,” you paused, still trying to rein your own libido back in, “we need to talk.”

“About what?” His hands flew into the air. “The same questions that lead to the same argument? AGAIN?”

“Why do you keep pursuing this...me? You were the one...”

“Oh, for the love of Valhalla, let that go! It’s been ten years! I know what I did. I know what you did in retaliation. And if you’d bothered...”

“Then what in the gods’ names...”

“If you’d bothered to read the letter I’d sent,” he took a breath, nearly choking on it before continuing, “if you’d even opened it, you’d know why I’m still pursuing you.”

“Just tell me so we can end this.”

“NO!” He grabbed you by the shoulders. “I don’t want this to end. I never did. Why will you not understand that?” 

“And why don't you understand that we’re terrible for each other? That we keep going around in circles because we know it but won’t admit that this will never work?” 

All color drained from Loki’s face as he stepped back. 

“Do you really believe that?” he whispered.

“I...” He watched you fumble for words for only a moment before closing the distance between you.

“No more talking.” 

Fingers wove into your hair. 

“No more arguing.” 

A thumb caressed your cheek. 

“Nothing but the sounds I adore coming from the woman I love.”

You tilted your head at the last word so that his kiss landed on your temple. 

You were suddenly aware of the speed in his breathing and his gaze upon you. You swore you could hear his heart pounding within his chest, or was it your own?

“I think, your Highness, you misunderstand the meaning of that word.” 

“My dear ambassador, I would gladly spend the rest of eternity showing you precisely what I believe that word to mean if you would only permit me.” Two long fingers crooked beneath your chin, lifting your face to his. “Or would you prefer to share Fandral’s bed tonight? Hmm?” Mischief flashed in his eyes. “If that is your wish, I feel I should warn you of his extensive collection of female undergarments. It makes for quite the unique decor. And, do give him time to change out of the ones he wears. He prefers not to shock his guests too badly all at once.” He grinned. “So I’m told.”

The vision of Fandral dressed only in lingerie caused you to burst into laughter. 

“And what of you, lord of mischief? What tricks do you have hidden away in your rooms?” you giggled. 

Loki chuckled, smiling down at you. “Shall I show you?” 

Without giving you a chance to respond, he wrapped his arms around you and transported you both into his suite. You lingered a moment in his arms, the sound of his pounding heart oddly soothing in your ear. He held you a little tighter, gentle kisses landing in your hair. 

“I’ve missed this,” you whispered. 

“As have I, my love.”

You looked up at him, grinning. “There’s that word again.”

“Indeed,” he smirked before lowering his lips to yours. Tongues danced around each other while his hands slid down your gown. Yours tried for his hair only to be blocked by his helmet. 

“Lose the armor,” you growled. 

“Is that all I should lose?” Your eyebrow shot up. He grinned and closed his eyes, letting the familiar green-gold of his seider deprive him of his clothing before pulling you to the bed. “Any other requests, darling?”

“No more magic tonight. And,” you grinned, “my choice.”

Loki eyed you carefully. “What are you planning?”

His question was silenced by a finger dragged from his lips, down his body, barely brushing against the tip of his stiffening cock before traveling across his thigh. You leaned closer leaving your lips a hair’s breadth away from his. 

“Are we agreed?” The hard swallow combined with the panicked desire in his eyes drew a chuckle from you. “Say yes.” A nod was all he could muster before you rewarded him with a kiss and pushed him back onto the bed. He growled when you swatted away the arms that reached for you. “Behave, or you sleep alone tonight.”

“Y/N,” he whimpered. “At least let me undress you.”

“Not yet.” 

His hands slid underneath his head and you began a painfully slow course along his jawline, nipping and licking a path down his neck and chest. He hissed, hands emerging to grab your hair. You pushed them back into the bed and bit down with a warning look in your eyes. He yelped and glared in disbelief. 

“I said, behave,” you grinned, blowing a soft stream of cold air over the tender nub. He shuddered and flopped backward, driving his hips - and his throbbing member -  into your stomach. You picked up the pace of placing random kisses along his chest, dragging your nails down his ribs before arriving at his pelvis. 

Loki whimpered when you stood. He lifted his head as far as he dared to watch you remove the outer skirts of your gown and sink to your knees. The feeling of your hands wandering along the inside of his thighs sent his head back to the bed, his eyes closed. 

“Oh, the Norns,” he moaned when your fingers ghosted up his shaft and down again, followed by your tongue, swirling around the head. He gasped when you closed your lips around him, and nearly came off the bed when you took him completely into your mouth. 

You’d almost forgotten how much you enjoyed the noises he made when you drug your teeth up his length and slid back down with your tongue. You teased him for a while, alternating between teeth and tongue and taking him completely into your mouth. Moans turned to growls when he’d had enough. A hand slid its way down the arm caressing his chest and into your hair, gently guiding your lips over his cock. 

Loki shuddered beneath you every time you swallowed him, humming as his hips bucked against you and his grip tightened against your scalp. You knew he was close and quickened the pace, adding your hand to every stroke. All you could hear now were whimpers and pleas to the gods, and you moved slightly to take the load you knew was inevitable.  

“STOP!” he shouted, pulling you away by your hair. You looked up to see his flushed face, pupils blown wide. “Not like this,” came in pants as his fingers eased their grip. 

“Hmm, but you promised,” you purred as your tongue darted back out, catching the arousal flowing from his cock. ”My choice.”

With a growl and a single motion, Loki hoisted you to straddle him. His hands worked furiously to remove your gown while he devoured your mouth with his. Frustrated at the complexity of your garment, he broke the kiss. 

“Then this is the second promise I break tonight.” 

A wave of his hands left you naked above him. You gasped when his teeth clamped down on an exposed nipple, his arms lifting you just enough to angle your sex away from his. Fingers rolled your swollen clit around before they slid inside you, garnering him a whimper for his good work. He grinned as you began to grind against his hand while he nipped his way across your chest. 

“Lo- Loki,” you stammered, desperately trying - and failing - to keep focused against his ministrations. 

He slid into you effortlessly, growling with your moan as your body accepted him to the hilt, clamping down the moment he stopped.

“Don’t move.” you gasped, locking your arms around his waist.

“Couldn’t if I wanted to.” He took slow, deep breaths and you felt his muscles relax a bit, allowing him to shift ever so slightly.

“I said don’t...” You dug into his flesh, your entire body clenched around his. “Too close. Too soon.” you panted. 

Loki grinned into your neck, nuzzling, nipping and kissing your skin until your walls tightened even more.

“Dammit, Loki.”

“Darling,” he groaned, dragging his cheek along your own, “you must relax. This isn’t going to go well for either of us if you don’t.”

“Not. Ready.”

“Oh, I think you are.” He kissed you gently, sliding an arm beneath you. “I think you’re more than ready.” 

You whimpered while his fingers trailed down your hip and along your leg. He kissed you again, his roaming hand firmly gripping your ass. You loosened the vice grip on his body, creating a sigh from you both. 

“Much better. Now,” he whispered, “come for me.” 

You tried to resume your grasp on his hips when they started to move but found your hands caught in his.  

“Loki, please. Not yet.”

He slowed his pace, lifting his head to look at you. “The longer your release takes, my sweet, the more the ones that follow are delayed. I promise that this will be the first of many you’ll have tonight. I promise to take you in every way you desire. I promise that you will hear me cry out your name when we’re finally spent.” He leaned down, again burying himself completely, grinding his hips into yours. 

“But for now, let me have you. Let me see you come undone. Let me feel your body release around me.” He pulled out to the tip and slammed back into you. 

“Come.” He growled with another thrust. 

“For.” Another. 

“Me.” 

“LOKI!” you screamed, your back arched as you sailed over the edge. He continued pumping into you until he felt the first wave of your release, slowing to draw out your ecstasy and revel in the sight of your quivering body. When your breathing settled, he rolled you both over before peppering your neck with kisses and began plunging into you again. 

“I’m not done with you yet.” he purred and lifted you leg to grant better access while your hands roamed his back, nails digging in to pull him deeper. He stayed close, his breath hot on your neck between sighs. You nuzzled into his hair, drinking in the mixture of oils, soaps, and natural scent when a braid brushed across your cheek. You lifted it to eye level and smiled at the sight of a strand of your hair woven in with his. 

He had kept his promise.  

“Loki,” you breathed into his ear as you tucked the braid behind it. A hum that rumbled deep in his chest spurred a new fire in your belly. “Claim me.” 

He groaned, thrusting a little harder while your hands wandered back down his sides. 

“Take what’s yours.” 

A whimper escaped, his pace quickened and face buried in your neck. A tongue slid across your skin, bringing a moan from you both.

“Give me what’s mine.” 

Loki growled and bit down on your shoulder. You relaxed your hands in response and he pulled them above your head, holding you by the wrists as he started pounding into you. He moved like a man possessed, setting a pace so frantic that all you could do was hold onto him. The room filled with the sounds of your bodies colliding, moans and whimpers echoing around you as he brought you to a second climax. 

A third orgasm began building almost as soon as the second ended. He grinned and pressed his lips to yours, devouring his way along your jawline. When he found the sweet spot between your throat and shoulder, he clamped down, sucking a bright purple mark into your skin. The pain was enough to send you reeling again. Your entire body contracted around him, nails digging into his back. He roared out your name, finding his own release in spasms for what seemed an eternity. 

When his body calmed, he laid down against you, shifting his weight to one side. You listened to his breathing, accented with soft sighs, slow to normal. His fingers toyed with a few strands of hair, finding the braid with a smile. 

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?”

He propped himself up on an elbow, adoration in his eyes as he caressed the faded green ribbon. 

“You should have this rebraided while you’re here. Maybe with a bit of gold thread mixed in.”

A smile crept across your face. “Gold is reserved for royalty, Loki.”

“Is it?” Mischief played in his eyes. “You know, you never answered my question.”

“What question? The one you asked decades ago?” He purred an affirmative and you quirked an eyebrow. “Even after all this time, the question still stands?”

“Through Ragnarok and beyond.” 

“Such a poet my silvertongue is.” 

Loki leaned down, resting his chin on your chest. “Not enough of one to keep you with me.” he whispered. You began to protest but were silenced by a finger on your lips. “I’m not letting you go this time. Say yes.” 

The old battle between head and heart began anew while he watched. Eventually, he laid down on his side with his back facing you. You slid next to him, placing a hand on his arm. 

“I love you, my prince.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

#loki #loki fanfic #fluff and smut