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foursideharmony · 4 years

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The Cat, the Prince, and the Doorway to Imagination (Chapter 7)

Summary: The final confrontation with the wicked White Warlock!

Pairings: Platonic/familial LAMP/CALM, Platonic/familial DLAMPR

Content Warnings: More Remus being Remus. Violence and threats of violence. Someone slowly being covered in ice.

Word Count: 3,675

Read on AO3: here

“Huh,” Remus said, apparently lost for words (which was unusual in itself). “So now what?”

Janus blinked. “I'm not sure.”

“Which means you are sure, right?” Remus said with a great big wink.

Before Janus could explain for the umpteenth time that it wasn't that simple (and never had been), there came a loud growling sound from nearby, and something huge and brown came crashing out of the brush and charged them. Janus barely managed to dive out of the way of what he quickly realized was an entire bear. Remus, always a big believer in the principle that the best defense is a good offense, dodged it by leaping straight up, and used the momentum of his downward arc to add force to a massive swing of his morningstar. The blow knocked the beast off its feet, and it threw great arcs of snow into the air as it skidded to a stop.

“That was fun!” Remus declared, resting the weapon on his shoulder. “Hey, want me to skin it for you? A nice bearskin rug will keep you warm so you don't have to crawl under a rotting log to hibernate!”

Janus had no time to muse upon how accurately he had predicted Remus's behavior, because a motion at the corner of his eye told him that the bear was not totally out of play yet. It was made of far sterner stuff than the dwarf had been and had only been stunned by the blow, and was now shaking itself awake. But rather than lunging at them again, or even fleeing back into the trees, it hoisted itself into a sitting position, clutched at its head with its paws, and began to whimper.

“Oh, stop it!” Remus said petulantly. “You attacked us, remember? Roman calls me violent, but I would just like to point out that so far, 100% of the creatures from this winter wonderland of his have tried to kill us!”

Much to Janus's surprise (though perhaps it shouldn't have been), the bear pivoted on its rump and said: “I was only protecting Mr. Logan!”

Janus smiled...now this was a situation he could deal with. He stepped forward, made Remus silence himself just to be on the safe side, and said, “Why, we would never harm Logan! We're some of his closest friends, after all!”

Still rubbing its—his—head with one paw, the bear rolled around until it was standing on the other three. “Then sirs, you must be the help he sent for!”

“We are! We got his message! But alas, it seems we were too late to prevent this.” Janus gestured at the crystallized Logan.

“It's not your fault, sir,” said the bear. “I was supposed to protect him from the White Warlock. And now I've got to go back and tell the others what happened.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea. But first, why don't you tell...” Janus trailed off, realizing the Remus—still silenced—was jumping up and down behind him and frantically waving his free hand. He released him. “Yes, what is it?”

“I know what this is!” Remus said gleefully. “Roman's gone and recreated the first Narnia book!”

“I never realized you were...into that sort of thing.”

“Are you kidding? With all the descriptions of war and violence and disturbing religious subtext? Not to mention a happy ending where everyone dies! What's not to love?”

“Even after all these years, you still retain the capacity to surprise me, Remus. However, I doubt the same aspects are what holds appeal for your brother, so try not to get too excited.” Janus turned back to the bear. “As I was saying, I think it might be a good idea for you to tell us what happened here. Who did this to Logan?”

“The White Warlock, of course, sir!”

“A warlock instead of a witch?” said Remus. “That's a new one...Roman usually loves fighting witches. He has this one recurring antagonist, the Dra—”

“Yes, Remus, we are all aware of the Dragon Witch.”

“Begging your pardon, sirs, but I think this Roman of yours is the White Warlock. That's the name the others called him back at the Stone Table.”

Remus did a spit-take. He hadn't been drinking anything, of course, but it was hardly beyond his capabilities (or his inclination) to generate something within his mouth entirely for the purpose of spitting it out. It looked like used motor oil. “Roman made himself the bad guy? That's definitely a new one!” He was grinning, but it was a rather fixed grin, and his eyes darted around under a furrowed brow.

“You said you were going back to the others,” Janus said to the bear. “Take us with you.”

Virgil, for once, felt genuinely useful: He had volunteered for the first watch of the night. Hushwing the Owl had shown him a tree he could climb from which he could scan the entire western and southern approach to the hill. It was a clear night and the moon was pretty close to full, and its light turned the snow into a stark bluish canvas against which any sort of moving shadow was plainly visible. Thus, as the ten o'clock hour approached and a large shuffling shape emerged from the trees to the west, Virgil looked not directly at it but at the silhouette it cast on the ground. It was definitely a bear and definitely had riders, one of whom was wearing a bowler hat. Good enough, even with the odd distortion of light and shade that seemed to sit between the forms of the two humans. He made the hooting call Hushwing had taught him which meant “Friendly approaching” and clambered down from his perch in order to go glower at Janus.

The climb took longer than he would have liked in the dark, and by the time he got back to the crown of the hill, the party had already arrived and was being greeted and offered blankets and a bit of warmed-over stew. Stoutpaws had apparently collapsed and fallen asleep right there on the hilltop...as Virgil supposed he would, after an entire day of running. Janus (ugh) was being helped over to the rebuilt campfire. And Logan...

Someone lunged at Virgil. Flight won, as it usually did, and he skittered backward several steps, only to realize that it was Patton he was flinching away from, and Patton was crying. “Shit...sorry...startled...” he mumbled, opening his arms and letting the Moral Side fling himself into them. He was shaking with sobs. “Patton...what happened?”

“R-R-Roman d-did something awful t-to Logan!”

The cluster of Narnians seeing to the arriving group parted. At first, Virgil couldn't tell what he was looking it—the object was translucent and oddly shaped, and moonlight and torchlight played over its surface and through its interior in ways that prevented him from focusing on its edges...until a chance flicker brought the details into clarity.

His head swimming, his thoughts useless, Virgil slipped from Patton's arms and dropped to his knees. He couldn't stop staring at it.

At Logan, frozen in crystal.

A murder . He was looking at a murder.

“Hell of a thing, isn't it?” said a screeching voice behind him. It was the sort of thing that ordinarily would provoke an instant reaction in Virgil (and that voice in particular would give a huge boost to Fight), but he was just too stunned. “As soon as Janus warms up enough that he's not going to drop off into a snake-coma, we'll all sit down and work out what to do about it. I can't wait to tell all of you my idea!”

Something in Virgil's brain finally lurched into motion, but all he could manage was a half-hearted glare back over his shoulder and a mumbled “What are you doing here?”

“Well, la-dee-dah, Panic-Depressive, I didn't know Thomas's Creativity needed permission to visit the Imagination.”

Virgil decided—to the extent that he was capable of deciding anything in the moment—that he could only cope with one atrocity at a time. He brushed Remus off and turned back to Patton. “Are you okay?” Patton shook his head emphatically. “Yeah, okay, dumb question.” In a way, Virgil was grateful for Remus's presence, since severe annoyance was usually a pretty strong barrier between himself and panic. “Let's...just...gather around the fire, so we can get our discussion going the instant De—Janus is up to it.”

They did. Janus sat on a boulder less than a yard from the fire, gazing rather glassily at it. The Narnians had given him a dark woolen cloak, and he had been engaged in an unsettlingly animalistic ritual: alternately spreading the cloth wide like wings, catching heat from the flames, and then wrapping it around himself to absorb the warmth. He glanced up, more or less, as the others approached. “So I assume you've all been made aware of the depths of depravity to which our dear Roman has sunk in his quest for...whatever it is he's questing for these days.”

“Roman's not depraved!” Patton said in a tone that suggested he had expected the accusation. He took his own seat across from Janus. “He's just...I don't know what exactly is going on with him right now, but he's not depraved!”

“Patton...” Virgil said, choosing to remain standing for the time being, “...he turned Logan into stone. There's no way to sugar-coat that.”

“It could have been an accident!”

“Patton...”

“It could have! He made a point of sparing Muricata's tree! I can't square that with the idea of him doing that to one of us on purpose!”

“Pat, listen. This?” Virgil mimicked the Logan-statue's outflung arm. “Is a defensive posture.” He started pacing. “Which means he saw it coming. Which means Roman telegraphed that he was going to do it, which means it was on purpose.”

Patton's eyes started to well up again. “I just wish I knew why,” he said.

“We'll be sure to ask him when he comes here to kill the rest of us in the morning,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes. “Who knows? He might even answer. The more important question is what to do about it. Can we change Logan back?”

“Ooh! Ooh! Pick me! I have an idea!” said Remus, who had been watching the argument between Patton and Virgil with the glee of an obsessive tennis fan. “When he shows up tomorrow to kill us all, I sneak up behind him and clonk him on the head! Once he's knocked out, primary control of the Imagination will automatically pass to me! Then I can make this story go my way, and I guess you can hash out your issues with Roman afterward or whatever.”

There was dead silence for a moment. Then Janus shifted in his cloak. “Let's make that Plan...” He started counting silently on his fingers, and manifested a few more hands to get to the number he wanted. “X. Plan X.”

“Can we make it Plan Triple-X?” Remus said, waggling his eyebrows.

“If we reach that level of desperation, I'm sure we'll be happy to let you do just whatever you want,” said the Dishonest Side. “In the meantime...something less drastic first, perhaps?”

“Logan's original plan,” Virgil said cautiously, “was to let Roman catch sight of you, hoping that it would shock him out of this downward villainy spiral he's stuck in.”

Janus looked taken aback for a split second, almost like a micro-flinch. “Well...” he said after a beat, “...far be it from me to question the soundness of one of Logan's ideas...” He let the end of the sentence hang in the air like an icicle.

Remus lost interest in the conversation and began searching the area for things to put in the fire.

“If it makes you feel any better, Scales, I was against the whole thing,” said Virgil. “But you're here now, and it's not like we have any other ideas.”

“Well, as long as I have your vote of confidence I know we'll do just swimmingly.”

Remus dropped a pine cone on the fire and giggled as it ignited with a series of explosive pops.

“H-hey, guys,” Patton said with a slight quaver. “Stop sniping at each other. This isn't about you two. It's about...well, all of us, really.” He swallowed, and when he continued his voice was stronger, more authoritative. “It's about Roman, and because it's about him it's about our whole family. We have to cooperate. Now then, Janus, if you're skeptical of Logan's plan, why don't you tell us why so we can figure out something else?”

Janus did his very best impression of a deer in headlights for a moment. Then he recovered his composure, cleared his throat, and said “I may have been exaggerating. Am I correct in thinking that the idea is to show Roman his idea of a villain so he presumably stops trying to be one?”

“Something like that,” Virgil mumbled.

Emboldened, Remus stuck a twiggy branch in the fire until it lit up and waved it in the air like a pennant.

“That's hardly a kind view of me,” Janus continued, “but I've heard of worse stratagems. Might I suggest a few...refinements?”

“Guess we can't stop you.”

“Virgil, be nice! We'd love to get your input, Janus.”

“Thank you, Patton. Remus! Pay attention; this concerns you as well.”

Remus, who had been on the point of touching the burning branch to his own hair, tossed it aside and plunked down onto a log, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands cupping his face. “Fire away, Jay-jay!”

Janus took a medium-long look at the ensorceled Logan, and began.

Dawn came all too early and with it, the bellow of a war horn. Startled awake, the Sides lurched to pull on clothes and scrambled out of the hillside shelter to see what they were up against.

At their previous meeting, Roman had been accompanied by an entourage. This time...he had brought an army. Perhaps five thousand strong, they massed around the foot of the hill, blocking off any retreat except by air...and the presence of Dwarven archers among the ranks ensured that any creature attempting to escape via flight would fail as well. The good Narnians, outnumbered nearly two hundred to one, clustered at the crown of the hill, facing grimly outward and wondering when the charge would come. The Sides stayed near the middle of the group at first, protected and almost entirely screened from view.

Roman, almost too brilliant to look at in his snow-white suit and icy jewels, detached himself from his throng and marched up toward them. “Showtime,” Janus muttered.

“Yesterday,” the self-styled King of Narnia proclaimed, “we issued an ultimatum to this company here assembled. Now we return to hear your decision and respond to it. Do you or do you not swear fealty to the Crown of Narnia?”

The Narnians, per the plan, stood firm and did not speak.

“We asked for your reply!” Roman snarled. “Where are my fellows? Have they abandoned you?”

“No, we haven't!” Patton said. The Narnians stood aside to let him through, followed by Virgil...and Logan. “And we're not surrendering either! You've taken things way too far, Roman, and it is not okay!”

Roman said nothing, staring dumbfounded at Logan. “You seem surprised to see me in my current condition,” said the Logical Side. “Your enchantment wore off after what I have calculated to be two hours, forty-seven minutes, and eleven point three four seconds.”

“That's impossible!” Roman shouted. “The transformation is permanent until counteracted!”

“Perhaps your control over the Imagination is not as absolute as you have heretofore assumed. Patton believes...actually, I will allow him to explain. Patton?”

“It's because you're abandoning your calling, Roman! Thomas doesn't want a wicked Creativity! Hurting your own creations for the sake of a story is one thing, but hurting us? You're turning into something that Thomas would never allow to be in charge of his Imagination!”

“Yeah, and it's really throwing a wrench into my plans!” said Remus, suddenly springing out of the crowd to Roman's shock. “What are you doing , bro? You can't be the evil twin! Because then I have to be the good twin, and I can't go shaving my mustache now! I just got it the way I want it! I don't even know how to be good!”

“You—! What are you all playing at?” Roman said, backing away slightly. He leveled a scandalized finger at Remus. “Working with him ...this is exactly why...but never mind. You will surrender to me—all of you!—or none of these foolish creatures you have befriended will survive the day!”

“I know you don't mean that,” Patton said softly “You didn't even really kill the Dryad's tree yesterday. You want to be the hero, Roman. So be the hero . Take off that crown, put down the wand, and let's talk.”

Roman's face became pensive. He was considering...no, he was listening for something, and then he stepped forward again. “You'd like that, wouldn't you?” he said. The wand swished through the air. The other Sides shouted in alarm, but no one turned to stone. Patton, however, wobbled, his feet literally frozen to the ground in a thick coating of ice.

The ice began to creep up his legs.

“Surrender,” Roman hissed. “Swear fealty to your King. Or watch him freeze.”

“Guys...” Virgil said.

Someone began to clap slowly, but the claps were muffled as if by gloves. Which was exactly the case. “Oh, bra-vo, Roman,” said Janus, dropping the Logan illusion. “You're finally doing for yourself. Using your power to take what you want. I couldn't be prouder.”

“You!” Roman gawked, even more appalled than he had been at Remus's presence. Then his face split in a grin of triumph. “Ha! I knew my enchantment hadn't worn off! Now will you yield to me, or stand by while Patton suffers a similar fate?”

“Yes!” Janus said with the merest hint of a hiss. “That's just the way! Show them all what you are capable of when slighted!”

“Shut up!” Roman said, and for the first time, his rapidly twitching expressions lighted on uncertainty . “Your input is not welcome here!”

“Clearly not; why I daresay you've supplanted me and Remus both with your villainy.”

“I said shut up!”

“Roman...” said Patton as the ice slithered up toward his hips, “...why are you doing this?”

“BECAUSE SOMEONE HAS TO!” Roman wailed. “Because you and Thomas lost all perspective...you invited him to the table...and all I wanted was a simple adventure where I knew who the bad guy was...and then it turned out to be me ! Even the Imagination started pushing me out of the hero role!”

“Pushing you!” Patton repeated. “So you don't want this!”

“And now you're even working with Remus! You'd rather have him on your side than...than...”

Remus made a loud scoffing noise. “Dream on, bro! For your information, I invited myself! They wouldn't have let me stick around if you weren't acting worse than me! Think about that , why don't you!”

“Roman, darling,” said Janus, approaching slowly with his hands up in a gesture of appeasement, “what makes you think anyone has to be the villain?”

“Every story needs a bad guy,” Roman insisted, backing away.

“That's not true,” said Patton, a mite breathlessly as the ice began to squeeze his chest. “What about all those stories where the conflict comes from misunderstanding? I think that's what's happening here. You're not understanding us or we're not understanding you or both.”

“Look, man, I get it,” Virgil offered, though his calm tone was belied by the constant reverberation of the Tempest Tongue. “I know what it feels like to think you have to be the bad guy. This is me, right? But we got over that, and we can get through this too. Take the enchantments off Patton and Logan and let's all figure it out together. You said yourself stories in the Imagination can take on a life of their own. That doesn't mean they're always telling the truth.”

“But, you know,” said Janus, examining his fingertips. “Your choice, Your Majesty.”

Roman looked from Virgil, to Patton (iced up to his neck) to Remus and Janus, to the whole of Narnia around them. His face twisted up into a terrifying snarl and he stalked forward once again. He raised his wand. Virgil put himself between Roman and Patton (not that there was much more that could be done to the Moral Side), but when he was only feet away from them, Roman suddenly flung his crown to the ground with a shrieking sob and brought the wand down on it. And in an instant, the wand was his sword (and always had been, they realized) and the blade struck the large diamond, shattering it into a thousand shards of ice.

Golden mist rose out of the splintered gem, coiling and flowing, and washed over Roman from his feet up. As it went, it dragged a second mist, bluish-silver, out of him as if plucking hairs by the roots. Roman cried out in pain as the power of the White Witch was scrubbed out of him by the power of Aslan. Both mists spun around each other until they reached a height of several yards, at which point there was a soft explosion and they rocketed away from each other. The Witch's power soared off in a northerly direction, while the Lion's made an arc and landed in the woods nearby.

The ice covering Patton fractured away, and he sagged in relief. “Roman...?” he said.

The Prince turned a plaintive look on him before collapsing to the snow.

#sanders sides #fanfiction #lamp/calm #platonic lamp/calm #dlampr #platonic dlampr #narnia #sympathetic janus #sympathetic remus #villainous roman

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neo-culture-taste · 6 years

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Loosen Your Tie, Doyoung

Genre: AU, college, frat life, comedy, romance

Pairing: Doyoung X Fem (w/ the lovely appearance of fuccboi Yuta)

Rating: M for language, suggestive themes

Word Count: 9100+

Summary: He was an uptight nerd that just wanted to relax after taking his exams, but the universe had something more eventful planned for this particular evening.

Masterlist in blog description @neo-culture-taste.

Author’s note: A year ago Nctzens were given the gift that was NCT 2018 and with that gift came Doyoung’s teaser photo with him donning a blazer and tie. That one photo caused my creative juices to flow and thus this oneshot was born—an entire year ago. So a whole year later and a few tweaks here it is. Enjoy! - C

P.S - my imagination was running rampant when I first wrote this so 🤷🏽‍♀

“You have five minutes left.”

He flinched at the sudden tickle of the proctor’s words against his skin as he whispered into his ear. Doyoung absentmindedly nodded in agreement forcing down a scowl at the interruption of re-re-re-reviewing his physics based calculus midterm exam for the fourth time.

He absolutely hated computer-based exams. He had written several letters to the head of the physics department pleading that they change their decision on computer-based tests, citing that difficult mathematical exams of this magnitude would be more beneficial if the professors were present for any questions the student(s) may have. Not to mention the wrong numerical typo could be the decision between an A or D, and unfortunately Doyoung had witnessed that first hand amongst he and his classmates. It was a depressing sight to see aspiring engineers momentarily yanking their hairs out in fear of failing an exam thanks to one little, measly typo.

At first his letters fell on deaf ears until he became a class representative for his major on the student council. He was tired of seeing his classmates struggle and tired of having to visit his professor after each exam on the basis of a typo in order to raise his 93% A to a 100% A+. The department heads had no choice but to listen to the pleas of both Doyoung and his fellow students after a lengthy, yet informative presentation to the entire department.

After reaching the final question on what would be his last computer based physics exam of the semester, Doyoung took a deep breath and hovered the mouse over the submit button. The computer would automatically score his test once the time went down whether he was ready to see his grade or not; so deciding to bite the bullet, he closed his eyes and hit submit only waiting a few seconds before opening his eyes.

A beautiful 15 out of 15, 100% A+ graced the liquid crystal display, and a large smile fanned over Doyoung’s face as he released the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Unfortunately, the wretched garlic breath of the proctor finally infiltrated his senses despite occurring five minutes prior. That was just how focused he was.

Doyoung exited the exam’s browser and reached for his backpack underneath his chair, careful not to disturb the other students. With a bounce in his step he made way for the quad, stopping momentarily to do a celebratory twirl in the middle of the hallway and then popping in his earbuds. He had aced all of his midterms and could finally relax and take full advantage of a well-deserved break.

The sun was shining as brightly as ever casting shadows on students spread throughout the quad. Some were furiously doing last minute cramming, while others cried oceans of tears over their unsuccessful attempts at cramming, and others mirrored Doyoung and radiated the same exam-passing glow.

Feeling starved after supplying the neurons in his brain with enough glucose to ace his exam, Doyoung decided to make a quick turnaround in the quad and head towards the dining hall. Upon entering the cafeteria, he swiped his meal card before quickly reveling in the realization that today was Pizza Friday.

He grabbed a plate from the counter and loaded it with four slices of pizza before moving to the fruit counter to grab some watermelon. Once he was finished, he noticed that his favorite booth in the back corner of the dining hall was free, prompting him to maneuver his way towards it. He carefully placed his plates on the table and threw his backpack in the other side of the booth before realizing he was missing a nice, cold beverage to accompany his lunch.

He made his way to the drink counter which was only a couple feet away, filling two plastic cups with soda so he didn’t have to get up and get more later. Once finished, he made way toward his booth, the music in his ears keeping him walking at a steady beat, but also prompting him to do another victory spin.

However, his twirl unfortunately did not come to completion because he felt the sudden collision of his hands against another object. Despite the heavy base rippling through his ear canal, he heard the spine-chilling shriek erupting from the human body directly in front of him; the contents of both his glasses inappropriately bathing the front of her blouse. He quickly popped out the ear buds form his ears, a flurry of apologies falling from his lips--some coherent and some barely even a language.

He looked down at the ruined white blouse before him in dismay. The palms of the soda soaked girl were turned upward as if she had absolutely no idea how to move on from this situation that could have been avoided. And the longer she stood in front of Doyoung, the quicker the liquid spread across her blouse, finding a comfortable fiber to soak into all while revealing a baby blue lace tank top underneath that clung to the curvature of her bosom. To make matters worse, the liquid had trickled down the front of her skirt and down her legs, causing Doyoung to give her an unintentional once over. Once his eyes returned upward, she served him expressions of both shock and lividness to say the least.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you-“ He said quickly setting down his now empty glasses in order to grab napkins to help her. With a bit too much force, she yanked the napkins from his hands and began aggressively patting her chest. He felt bad. But not bad enough to dampen his post test high. Ain’t nobody would be fucking with his post test high. “I can go ask for a towel-“

“Ew. A dirty dishrag? Don’t worry about it. I live in the dorm next door. But watch where you’re twirling next time, you fake ass ballerina.” The girl abruptly threw her damp napkins on the table, her neck tinged with a rosy shade from anger and embarrassment before quickly scurrying away.

Doyoung hung his head low and turned back to his table picking up the wet napkins in disgust, as she had thrown them on his Friday pizza and watermelon. It was an accident for goodness sake, but she didn’t have to be so rude about it either, Doyoung thought. He tried to apologize! And that was one of the reasons why he kept to himself most times and disliked significant amounts of human interaction. Someone was always bound to piss him off.

"If you're just going to sit there and mean mug your plate, then why not give me what's on it.”

Speaking of someone always pissing him off, Doyoung looked up from the table as he was pulled away from glaring at his pizza by the voice of the ultimate pain in the ass of his life: Nakamoto Yuta.

“Shake it off, bro. A little wet pepperoni never killed anybody,” said Yuta has he grabbed a slice of pizza from Doyoung’s plate and shook it from side to side before sitting across from him. Yuta was one of Doyoung’s few close friends and the use of the word “friend” to describe Yuta was oftentimes inaccurate.

Continuing to munch on Doyoung’s pizza, he chuckled. “I saw what happened, dude. Smooth move! When I suggested you should get a girl wet after midterms I didn’t mean like that.” Yuta was the last person Doyoung wanted to see his blunder with the opposite sex. Whenever hilarious, embarrassing, or social status dampening events occurred, Yuta was like the appointed historian to always make people remember times they wished hadn’t even occurred.

Doyoung sent Yuta a death glare but it only resulted in more loud chuckling from his friend. It really was times like these that Doyoung questioned why he had continued to keep Yuta around after entering university. He didn’t take his studies seriously like Doyoung, despite being at the university on a soccer scholarship where he needed to keep his marks up. He also had proved to be unreliable, as on countless occasions he flaked on hanging out because he said he “needed to give thanks to mother nature for the cosmic gift she had bestowed upon man in the form of female orgasms” through numerous trysts with the university’s cheerleaders. One would assume that someone who only wanted to climb the social ladder, attend the best college parties, and drink until he was ass-backwards or passed out (if it was the off season) would have already left a hardworking nerd, who desperately wanted to become an engineer. Alas...he didn’t. The two of them were like night and day, yet they just couldn’t be one without the other.

Despite being a huge nuisance to his nerves, Yuta did however possess the minimal characteristics of what Doyoung would qualify the use of the “friend” title. Sometimes. He was an asshole but he was an asshole that looked out for Doyoung and was always there to lend a helping hand, albeit it oftentimes led to more harm than good whenever Yuta inserted himself in a situation. But his intentions were in the right place and the situations would eventually work themselves out. All in all, there was some use to keeping Yuta around. And it wasn't all one big headache. They had fun a lot of the time, too.

Defeated, Doyoung picked up one of his slices that hadn’t been tormented by the wet paper. “Why are you here, Yuta? Shouldn’t you still be in a midterm or something?”

Yuta sighed. “I just finished up, actually. It was an oral final, but it didn’t last that long.” He shrugged his shoulders with disinterest.

“You waited until the last minute to come up with what you were going to say, didn’t you?” questioned Doyoung innocently wiping some pizza sauce from the corner of his mouth.

Yuta cocked his head to the side and looked at Doyoung somewhat disappointedly. “No, no. I went prepared. I could have tongued a few more sentences if she would have let me. But she grabbed the back of my hair too roughly, and then she came all over my tongue, but was too stimulated to con-“

Doyoung choked for obvious reason. “Yuta!” He reached for one of his glasses only to realize it was empty and quickly remembered the accident with the girl that had happened a few minutes prior.

“What?” asked Yuta nonchalantly.

“I’m eating! And it’s pizza day!” He was accustomed to his friend being lewd at all hours of the day and normally it wouldn't phase him, but he had been caught off guard this time.

“And I got an A! What’s the problem?!” Yuta reached in his backpack for his water bottle and tossed it towards Doyoung who was still coughing over loose pizza crust.

Taking a long ass swig, Doyoung gave Yuta a pointed look before harshly whispering. “You had relations with your professor?! Do you know how much trouble you would be in with the university if anyone found out? Not to mention you would probably get kicked off the team and consequently kicked out of school!”

Yuta did a dramatic neck and eye roll at his friend across the table. “Sometimes...I want to twist the stick that’s shoved so far up your ass and make you mellow out.”

“You and everyone else,” muttered Doyoung as he stared incredulously at the idiot.

“I’m in college, dude,” continued Yuta. “I’m allowed to fuck up. And if you must know I did do my presentation in class and earned my A the right way. I just…had more things to say that wasn’t able to fit within the time limit. And I had already requested an appointment for office hours beforehand and this chemistry had been brewing between us since the beginning of the semester. So one thing led to another and--“

“Yuta, fuck off,” said Doyoung, his tolerance wearing thin. “Between you and that girl I just ran into, the both of you have tried my patience today. I aced all my midterms and I just want to be left alone to recuperate.”

“Now you know how I feel having a friend that only wants to study all day! You’re always so serious. Once we graduate you will regret not having as much or more fun as I’m having. You need to loosen your tie, Doyoung, and liiiive~. The books will always be there but your youth won’t. Get this pussy now and get the money later!"

Now it was Doyoung's turn to cock his head to the side as he absentmindedly forked his watermelon. “Do you ever think about what you say before you say it, Yuta? Do you ever realize what kind of idiotic logic you’re spewing?”

“It’s not idiotic. It’s fact. Now moving on to the real reason I interrupted your lonely ass pizza day.” He shoved a neon green flyer adorned with terrible font towards Doyoung’s side of the table. “I’m throwing my first official party tonight at the frat house. You had been ignoring my texts all week because you were studying or whatever it is you do when you read a book and make flashcards. So now I’m reminding you in the flesh. I’m treating this party as if it is my first kid. If it’s successful, I know I can bang out a few more. So I need you to come out and support me like the true friend I know that you are.” Yuta batted his eyelashes at Doyoung who merely pushed his plate away, his appetite clearly vanishing.

“Yuta, I hate parties and all that encompasses them. And as a true friend you would already know this.” He slid the flyer back towards Yuta and reached for his backpack.

“Doyoung, please. You haven’t been to a party in the three years that we’ve been here and you literally have nothing exciting planned for tonight, and I know because you're you and you never really do anything besides…doing nothing.”

Doyoung scoffed and stood up, partly because he was annoyed and partly because Yuta was correct with his assumption. He was indeed going home to do nothing exciting in particular, but at least he wouldn’t be surrounded by wasted young adults who just wanted to fuck each other and adults that couldn’t take the hint and graduate already because they were scared of adult responsibilities.

“C’mon, dude!” Yuta stood up to stand eye level with his basic ass friend. “I really need you to be there.”

“Why?”

Yuta ran his hands down his face before calmly placing his hands on his hips. “The only way I can strip this one girl and bathe in her cosmic essence—with her permission of course—is if you come to the party and…y’know, hang out with her friend. Who, by the way, thinks you’re really attractive for some reason. I think she likes the way your tie is tightly wound around your neck like it’s choking you, but you find a way to sexily breathe through it. And that any minute you’ll rip it off and bind her wrists or blindfold her or some shit. I don't know. Girls are weird. But she likes you, man! She just wants to make sure your stuck up façade and actual personality aren’t synonymous. And if you don’t hit it off with her, there will be plenty of other girls you can-- ”

“No, Yuta. I will not babysit your potential fuck’s bestie so she can relieve her kinky fantasies and gossip to her friends saying, ‘Girls, he may look like a cute little bunny, but he fucks like a wild tiger that was just begging to be tamed.’” Yuta scrunched up his nose at the high pitched voice Doyoung put on to mimic a girl, and also because he had a hard time comprehending why Doyoung would compare himself to a giant jungle cat in bed. “Nor will I accidentally wind up in some room with some cute girl only to find out she was using me to make her jock boyfriend jealous.”

“DUDE, THAT WAS FIVE YEARS AGO IN HIGH SCHOOL!” Yuta exclaimed, exasperated that his friend was still bitter after all this time. “You gotta let that shit go! I told you not to go upstairs with her. And we need to revisit how you think you’re good in bed when you’ve only slept with like, one person.”

“No, Yuta. Leave me alone. Have fun at your party.” Doyoung curtly walked off and left Yuta standing there at the booth with his flyer crumpled angrily in his fist.

I’m not that stuck up, am I?, thought Doyoung as he left his friend in the dining hall. But he shrugged away the notion and continued to walk toward his apartment.

~~~

The cacophonous soundtrack that played on Doyoung’s laptop signaled yet another end credit scene for one of his favorite tv shows that he promised he would binge after midterms. More like the show was watching him as Doyoung had long casted aside his laptop and curled into the fetal position, sleep having grabbed him no more than ten minutes after he had returned to his apartment. His roommate, Winwin, hadn’t been home, serving as the perfect time to just relax alone.

The only thing that had managed to break him from his snooze cruise was the blatant disrespect of his cell phone ringing obnoxiously loud next to his ear. He quickly stirred and sat up looking at his phone in disgust as the words YUTA YUTA YUTA flashed across the screen. He begrudgingly answered deciding to be rude and not even say hello.

“Hello? Hello?” Asked Yuta whose voice was a bit drowned out thanks to the blaring EDM in the background. “Doyoung?!”

“Yuta! I didn’t change my mind about coming to the party!” Yelled Doyoung because he was pissed off and cranky.

“I know! But Winwin, ugh! Some clown from that BBX frat dared Winwin to keg stand and now your poor roommate is drunk off his mother fucking rocker! I told him not to do it, but he acted like he had something to prove and now he’s shitfaced, dude.”

Doyoung slapped his face and dragged his hand downward. “So, what are you asking me, Yuta? You’re his friend too and more than capable of-”

“Oh, shit! Winwin, that’s fucking disgusting!” Cried Yuta and interrupting Doyoung. “Quick, Kun, let’s take him to the bathroom. Here, Lucas. Talk to Doyoung.”

Doyoung heard the rustling of the phone being passed around through the receiver before a gruff voice spoke. “Hey, man! I’m sad you’re not here but I shall pour you one in your honor...and then not drink it because Taeyong won’t let me.”

“Thanks, Lucas. And you’re under the legal age to drink anyway.”

“Yeah but, I wanna keg stand, too!”

The thought of lil’ baby Lucas acting a fool and puking his brains out like the rest of his friends moved Doyoung enough to decide and go save his roommate. “It’s not worth it, dude. Tell Yuta I’m on my way.” He jumped from his bed and grabbed his keys before heading to the EXT frat house.

The walk to the frat house from his apartment was about eight minutes and twenty seconds. A time Doyoung remembered from several nightly trips when Yuta actually had time for guys night or when he needed to be saved from a girl he decided he didn’t want to sleep with after sobering up. Doyoung was always his scapegoat.

Upon arriving at the frat house, Doyoung immediately noticed all the loitering bodies of drunk college kids on the front lawn. He had to maneuver through the small sea of plastic red cups and beer bottles littered across the walkway before stopping abruptly as some guy flew across the cobblestone pavement and ran into the plastic flamingo on the lawn. “DUDEEE THAT NOSEDIVE WAS SICKK!” was heard causing Doyoung to roll his eyes and quickly make his way into the frat house. The sooner he retrieved Winwin, the faster he’d return home and relax. Well, not really. Not if he had to babysit Winwin all night and make sure he didn’t swallow his vomit and choke.

Doyoung entered the frat house and immediately noticed Lucas standing across in the foyer. He wasn’t hard to miss as he was the tallest human standing in the area with all the other new frat recruits who were tiny compared to him.

Doyoung sauntered over to Lucas who gave him a big hug causing the other recruits to disperse. Although Doyoung wasn’t in the frat, Yuta knighted him an honorary member, meaning no one was allowed to mess with him, yet was allowed to give him special treatment. “Bro, you made it!”

Doyoung’s face morphed into a grimace after telling Lucas he had come to get Winwin. He began to ask what bathroom in that giant frat house had Yuta dragged him to but was cut off when two tall, beautiful young ladies interrupted their conversation.

“Hey, stud? What’s your name?” Asked one of the girls, one Doyoung recognized as being the star junior of the girl’s soccer team.

Lucas quickly looked toward Doyoung as if he needed confirmation of what his name was before turning back to the girls and blushing. “I’m 20.”

Doyoung immediately hung his head low and scratched his eyebrow, rapidly giving up on humanity. He didn’t have time for this awkward shit. He had come here for one reason and one reason only, and now he felt precious time slipping away from him as he stood there fooling around with Lucas. “They asked for your name…”

“Oh, uhh. Sorry.” Said the giant baby clearing his throat. “Lucas. My name is Lucas.”

“Aw, you’re so cute and funny.” Both girls closed the space between themselves and Lucas, causing Doyoung to roll is eyes and become even more annoyed. Like, hellloooo? Were they too entranced by Lucas’ pretty face to not see him standing there having a conversation with somebody?

“Let’s go somewhere and chat for a bit?” suggested the other girl.

Lucas laughed again before his “how to be a fuccboi manual by Yuta, illustrated by Taeyong” kicked in, causing his cute smile to quickly change into a sexy smolder. His voice dropped a couple of octaves lower, which Doyoung didn’t even think was possible. “How about I meet you guys out back on the patio? I have to show my loser friend here something first.” His comment made Doyoung roll his lips into a straight line in aggravation. He knew Lucas had only said that to seem as cool as he thought he was. It was classic textbook Yuta.

“He can come, too,” said the girl eyeing Doyoung up and down. “I like them stoicc.” The annunciation she put on the last syllable was hella thicc.

“I’m sorry, ladies I’m flattered, but I'm really not interested. I have more pressing matters to attend to. Lucas. Winwin, please,” Doyoung demanded to Lucas sternly.

The girls were taken aback by the unintended harshness of Doyoung’s tone and Lucas made up for it by kindly reminding them he’d meet them soon. He lead Doyoung to one of the corridors on the other side of the frat house. There were even more bodies in this area as the pool table and other assorted games were being drunkenly utilized.

As they approached some party goers playing darts and dodging the projectiles as to not be impaled by one, Doyoung heard Yuta’s thunderous guffaw before he even saw him. Brushing past Lucas while channeling on the cackle, Doyoung spotted Yuta and grabbed his shoulder to turn him around. Before he could speak, his attention was drawn to Winwin sitting on the couch across from him, his clothes in perfect place, hair nice, and not a sign of having emptied out his entire digestive system through his mouth. If anything, he would say his roommate was simply a little buzzed. Winwin noticed him staring incredulously and gave him a sheepish smile and a wave. Doyoung was livid.

“Oh, hey~, Doyoung!” A beer in his hand, Yuta stuck his neck out to look around at his perturbed friend and pointed an accusatory finger at Lucas. “Dammit, you! You were supposed to text me when he got here!”

“Sorry, I got distracted! But I’ll be in the backyard if you need me! Bye!” rushed Lucas ready to run off to his rendezvous but was called back by Yuta.

“Oh, bro! You got distracted by some hot girls, huh?!” The knowing grin on Yuta’s face grew twice its size when Lucas nodded in affirmation. “MAH, MAN!” He went in for a high five with the taller young man, but Doyoung blocked them from coming in contact with one another by violently slapping their arms down.

“Enough! ”After using eight minutes and twenty seconds of his precious life to walk over to that frat house for what had now made itself clear as complete bullshit, Doyoung needed to get something off his chest. “Yuta. Can I speak with you in priv--” he began, but he was cut off for the second time that night.

“No, man! No more talking!” Yuta grabbed two bottles of beer from the cooler near his feet and popped them open, the noise agitating Doyoung closer to the point of no return, and shoved both bottles in his hands. “So, Winwin isn’t shitfaced and I lied. You walked into that trap on your own.”

“Yeah, and Doyoung’s the smart one,” cackled Johnny, another one of his so-called friends. He was clearly drunk, so Doyoung spared him from a possible verbal beatdown.

“But you’re here now and that’s all that matters!” continued Yuta. “There’s unlimited drinks and unlimited girls--except this one. She’s mine.” He slithered his arm around the waist of his Friday date (who had a bigger bosom than last Tuesday’s date), who Doyoung assumed was the one who’s friend wanted some facetime with him.

Upon that realization, the gears in his brain quickly switched over to escape mode. His eyes quickly glanced around the room in a small panic that he immediately realized was futile considering he had no idea what the girl looked like. Now with the sudden shift of his objective, Doyoung's top priority was to get out of there before whoever she was entered within a ten foot radius of his person.

“So, go crazy and have some fun! I’m really glad that you’re here, dude.” Yuta raised his beer up, a sly and cheeky grin plastered on his visage that Doyoung desperately wanted to punch. “To Doyoung!”

The people around responded in unison as Yuta clanked his bottle with Doyoung’s, who simply stood there in a silent rage. The aspirated sounds of quenched thirsts emanating from everyone’s throats prompted Doyoung to turn on his heels and walk out the game area. Not only did Yuta forcibly drag him to participate in an event he was clearly against from the moment the flyer was shoved in his face, he used his roommate Winwin as bait. He made a mental note to not invite Winwin shopping the next time their apartment needed groceries as payback. He then made another mental note that he was trying to punish his roommate who wouldn’t ever hurt a fly, and that wasn't something he thought he was capable of doing (purposely passive aggressively hurting Winwin, that is), which caused him to make yet another note that Yuta needed to be unfriended.

“He really likes screwing with me. He should stop harping about being my friend if he can’t under-” Doyoung’s mutterings were cut short when he felt a familiar pillowy thud hit against the back of his palm causing both bottles of beer to fly upwards before shattering on the floor. Tuning out the people around him yelling that he had just committed a party foul, his instincts immediately prepared his lips for a second set of apologizes that day as he looked to see who he had run into. Upon realization, his mouth fell open in surprise and he soon felt the front of his blazer soaking with beer.

“Why does this keep happening to me?!” She screamed. Her palms faced upwards, stuck like they were earlier in the dining hall and her expression was just as dumbfounded. “This is the second time today. First it was the fake ass ballerina and now-” She lifted your head and scoffed in absolute disbelief and possibly even a hint of disdain. “Still the fake ass ballerina. I knew I shouldn't have come here tonight. Ugh! Do you have absolutely noth--HEY! Where are you going, asshole?!”

A little ticked off by her attitude, Doyoung held up a finger signaling her to wait and silently brushed past her to head towards the conveniently nearby supply closet. Despite not even being a member of the frat, this wasn’t the first time Doyoung had to fetch the broom and dustpan from this particular room. He had Yuta to thank for that incident as well.

When he returned to the girl, her body was still tense although she had lowered her hands to pull her soaked halter top away from the front side of her body. Her face was adorned with complete discomfort, however she stepped aside as she watched Doyoung sweep the shards of glass and scoop them up with the dustpan.

He stood in front of her and gazed at her pitiful form in exasperation. He took a deep breath before saying what he had to say. It took a lot of strength for him not to go completely off on an innocent bystander who unfortunately kept getting in his way.

“I’m sorry. Once again, I truly am sorry,” he stressed. “I was lost in my train of thought because of my dumbass friends. Because I, too, do not want to be here. I’m sorry I ruined your outfit again. Although it really isn’t appropriate for this weather, by the way. Especially now that your clothes are wet. But still, I am sorry.” He chucked the shards of glass into the also conveniently nearby trash bin before bending back down to pick up the last pieces.

The girl narrowed her eyes and cocked her head to the side in agitation. “Okay, but your apologies can’t magically dry the front of my shirt and shorts, and remove the awful stench of cheap ass beer. I look like I fucking pissed on myself upwards!” She wanted to cross her arms over her chest, but she would risk getting them sticky.

“That’s impossible,” said Doyoung matter of factly. Standing up again, he looked at her now as if she were incompetent before emptying more glass into the trash bin.

“DUDE, REALLLY?! Is that really what’s on your mind right now? The physical impossibility of me being able to pee upwards is what you’re worried about?!” Frustrated with her current situation, and apparently the world given her actions and word choice since the beginning of the day, she rubbed her hands against her face and slowly slid down the wall behind her.

Now, Doyung was a nice dude. Ladies--even ones outside of his family--found him to be a real gentleman...if you caught him on a good day. He could have very well informed the girl that the ground was still very much wet, but today wasn’t a very good day. Not anymore, at least. So, he didn’t. Instead he watched her slowly sink to her demise, the liquid quickly seeping into her shorts. Any moment now...3...2...1. “AW, FUCK! THE GROUND IS STILL WET! Why didn’t you say anything?!”

He returned the broom and the dustpan to the closet before addressing her question. “I didn’t feel like mopping.” He stated without any remorse. Her eyes almost bulged out her sockets at his response, so he immediately backtracked realizing he didn't mean to be that big of a dick. He wasn’t really a dick at all, actually. “Because I didn’t think you’d hear me over your incessant yelling--” Okay, maybe he was a dick.

“I’m not yelling. This is how I talk.” She ran her hands through her hair in frustration. “Now my ass is wet. And I reek of beer. I don’t even drink! Never even touched the stuff! This has been the worst day of my life. But I can’t leave because I promised to be a designated driver. And if I leave, what if I get stopped by the police?! ARE THEY GONNA BELIEVE THAT I’M SOBER?! I should be at home studying!” She threw her head against the wall and winced at the hard impact she didn't mean to make with it.

Doyoung’s feet made to leave, but his moral compass pointed towards the girl when the word “studying” tumbled from her lips. It was as if she had calmed some of his anger knowing she could be potentially studious as he was. He also sympathized with her on the fact that he too had been roped into being a designated driver countless times. Although, he never attended the parties. He would only show up when he thought his friends had had enough and throw them all into the backseat. Upon rethinking the situation, he made a decision to help the girl and bent down, grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet.

“W-what are you doing?” The girl was a little shocked to say the least. His attitude had done a surprising 90 degrees. He was being gentlemanly, yes, but it was not a complete turn around. He was still tense, just not as much.

“Follow me.” He commenced to walk her hand in tow, but his pace was hindered by her hesitance.

“Where are we going?”

“To get you out of these wet clothes.” But before she could take it the wrong way and retort, he stopped walking and clarified. “Not like that. My asshole friends are inhabitants of this frat house. My clothes are damp as well and like you, I hate the feeling of wet clothing on my skin. We can grab a change of clothes and then we both can go our separate ways. Cool?”

Visibly relaxing after his explanation, she mulled it over, her tongue poking the inside of her cheek as she weighed the possible outcomes. “Fine. Lead the way.”

He lead her upstairs towards Yuta’s room, flicking the light upon entering the masculinely decorated room. He silently thanked his friend for not being a slob this weekend and not waiting forever to launder his soccer practice clothing that he usually just left on the floor to rot.

“Wait here,” said Doyoung dropping her hand. He quickly moved across the room towards Yuta’s black dresser, opening the first drawer a bit rougher than he intended and caused Yuta’s collection of bobbleheads to, well, bobble. The drawer contained an assortment of socks and underwear neither of which Doyoung needed, so he proceeded to the next row of drawers which contained athletic shorts and shirts.

He heard something ruffle against Yuta’s bed so he assumed it was the girl, his newfound companion who didn’t understand simple instructions of “wait here”. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw in annoyance, only to reopen his eyes and catch her form in the mirror. She apparently wasn't shy and wasted no time shedding off her sticky shirt. She discarded the wet material on the floor beside her feet and let out a deep sigh. Doyoung relaxed and continued to stand there admiring her reflected figure from behind. His eyes trailed from the top of her head to the strap of her baby blue bralette haphazardly falling down her shoulder, then to her lace trimmed jean shorts that had turned a darker hue (primarily on the curvature of her booty cheeks), which was entirely his fault. And in that moment, he could honestly say he was glad he didn’t tell her about the wet floor.

The motion of her reaching for her bra strap shook him from his reverie and he proceeded to grab two shirts and two shorts from the drawer. With his head hung low and eyes only focusing on the clothes, he turned around and extended a pair of clothes towards her. When she didn’t accept them, he noticed she was no longer standing there. “Hey. Where’d you go?”

He did a complete 180 degree turn and found her standing on the other side of Yuta’s room near his large armoire. “Oh. You move very quietly...umm I have dry cloth--NO DON’T OPEN THAT!”

His cry was too late as the girl had already opened the doors of the armoire and was already being showered with several boxes of condoms that had collapsed from the overstuffed piece of furniture. Before he could move to help her subdued form, he heard the door to Yuta’s room close shut and lock. He ran towards the wooden door and pounded on it, yelling in anger that his attempts to open the door from the inside were futile. “Hey! Open up!”

“No!” Screamed the terrible voice on the other side.

Doyoung dropped his hands from the doorknob knowing full well that no matter how much he retaliated he was not going to leave the room anytime soon. “Yuta...you asshole. Let us out. Right now. Open the damn door!” Doyoung’s chest ferociously rose and fell as his mind shrouded with rage.

“No, Dodo. I will not open the door. If you don’t want to mingle with us rowdy college kids, then mingle with the half naked girl you got in the room with you! Bye!” Doyoung heard footsteps and snickers trail away down the hallway.

He leaned his head on the door before remembering the ladder Yuta used to sneak in and out the frat house after hours. He ran towards the window and lifted it up happy to see the ladder right where he remembered it would be.

“What is going on?” the girl asked as she massaged her temples and continued to lay under the boxes of condoms.

“I’m going to get us out of here.” He kicked some boxes out of his way and grabbed her hand to pull her to her feet. So far their relationship with one another consisted of repeated actions and events. It was so unromantic it was lowkey romantic.

He gave her the set of clothes and motioned toward the closet and told her to quickly change. He discarded his blazer, shirt, and pants before sliding on the fresh pair of shorts. While deciding he could make do without taking off his tank top and tie he heard scraping outside against the wall.

“No, no, no.” He looked out the window only to find a drunk Johnny and Jaehyun trying to confiscate the ladder from the wall. “Stop!” He latched onto the ladder and tightened his grip as the pair pulled from the opposite end. Two against one was proving to be difficult as Doyoung’s waist was starting to go past the window sill, but he tried to maintain his grip as best as he could, hoping the drunks would give up soon.

“Hey these shorts have--OMG!” The girl had come out of the closet only to have to quickly run to the window and grab Doyoung’s waist so he wouldn’t fall forward and out the window. “Let go of the ladder! LET GO! LET GO! LET GO!”

“NO!”

“It’s not worth it!” She tugged him back harshly causing his grip to release from the ladder.

“Have fun Doyoung!” Yelled Johnny and Jaehyun as they hauled off with the ladder, laughing as they went.

“This is bullshit!” He closed the window and threw the dry T-shirt on the floor before he started pacing back and forth in the room. “That was our only way out! We’re going to be stuck here until Yuta decides he’s done playing this little game of his!”

The girl shifted and crossed her arms before speaking, “You have the biggest--“

“STICK UP MY ASS! YES, I KNOW.” He took a deep breath a little sorry she kept getting mixed up in all his shit. “I’m sorry—“

“Stop saying you’re sorry. It’s starting to sound weird coming from you.“ She placed her hand over your mouth to smother a laugh. “And that wasn't what I was going to say.”

“What?” He knitted his eyebrows and looked at her, only now noticing her bare legs peeking from under the hem of Yuta’s oversized T-shirt. Her baby blue undergarments showing underneath. “What is it?”

She picked up the shorts she had been given earlier. “I can’t wear these.” She handed them to Doyoung and stepped backwards meekly, trying to hold in her giggles.

“Why are you laughing?” He opened the shorts and noticed the big ass cut out hole on the crotch area before flinging them to the ground. “Dammit, Yuta! I didn’t know--“ He looked down at the shorts he had changed into and noticed the giant whole in the middle of his crotch, showcasing his Scooby Doo boxers. He looked up and saw the girl keel over on Yuta’s bed in laughter. And despite the outrageous situation, he relished in defeat and succumbed to laughter himself.

Once the girl had adequate use of her lungs to breathe again she said, “I didn’t peg you for a cartoon guy. Your face screams you enjoy the five o’clock news and peer reviewed journals.”

He rolled his eyes and sat on Yuta’s bed as well as wiping the tears that had accumulated in his eyes. “They’re my lucky exam boxers.”

“So you wear them three times a week?”

“The stench holds the knowledge.”

“Gross! Guys are so weird,” she said before locating Yuta’s crotchless shorts from before and chucking them at him.

“No. Not all of us. I never liked that group assumption. Why do girls group all guys together? Some of us are cool!”

“You...cool?” He watched as she stood up from her kneeling position and removed his wet blazer and shorts from the floor before finding her own wet clothes. She went towards the closet and hung the clothes to dry. Doyoung watched her intently, his eyes admiring her backside once again. “You’ve been in a mood since we first bumped into each other. That’s not cool.”

“It’s the circumstance. I’m usually a nice guy. I just...today wasn’t supposed to turn out like this. I was supposed to finish my physics midterm, enjoy Pizza Friday, and then relax at home. Midterms were hard this semester. I deserved the break. I didn’t want to get dragged to a party and get stuck--“

“In here with me?” She walked across the room toward the several boxes of condoms still littered across the floor.

“I didn’t mean--“

“It’s okay. I didn’t think my day would end up like this either.” She bent down and absentmindedly picked up a half full box of condoms. “We can just sit here quietly and not talk to one another until Yuta let’s us out. Or we can talk about why Yuta has an armoire full of condoms that nearly ended my life.”

“Despite Yuta’s assholelery, he’s a big activist for safe sex. He lives with all these young and horny guys so he has to look out for their well-being. Whenever they need protection or stupid advice Yuta is who they run to. Plus, a frat with a reputation for STDs would be bad publicity.”

“Interesting,” she said simply. Doyoung watched curiously as she dug inside the box and pulled out a foil packet that she then proceeded to open with her teeth. “But how’d he get all of these boxes? He went on a condom shopping spree?” She blew air through the condom and tied a knot at the end before neatly placing it on the nearby desk.

“No.” Doyoung watched her tear open another packet and wanted to advise her that opening it that way could puncture and render its contents ineffective, but he stopped himself when he realized what she was up to. “Spring Break contest sophomore year. He had to lick whip cream off a girl’s body and eat a cherry out of her mouth within a time limit at a resort we went to. He won first place, which included a lifetime supply of condoms and 5000 dollars cash.”

“Wow.” She deadpanned.

Doyoung reached for a packet in the box she was holding and began blowing one up like she did earlier. He carefully placed his condom balloon in Yuta’s pencil holder, making sure it didn’t pop. “By the way, my name is Doyoung.” He extended his hand towards his fellow prisoner while reaching for another packet with the other. She stopped blowing her latex balloon to shake his hand. She told him her name in return.

~~~

After going through about four boxes with twelve packets each, both she and Doyoung had run out of air. He was still on a devious power high from semi-trashing Yuta’s room, so he was glad when she agreed to his suggestion of filling the condoms with water. After going through a box of thirty-two, the two of them finally decided to call it quits. Yuta’s drawers, closet, backpack, shelf, bathroom just about every surface of his room was covered in an assortment of either air or water filled latex balloons in various colors, shapes, sizes, and texture. It was a condom carnival.

She was reclined on Yuta’s bed, Doyoung having found her a blanket to cover herself with as Yuta’s questionable fashion sense was out of the question. “So why do you continue to hang out with him if he’s so troublesome?” she asked.

Doyoung took a moment to answer. “Because he’s the complete opposite of me. He’s the fun one and I’m…the not fun one.” Doyoung lowered his chin atop the desk chair he was sitting backwards on.

“Well, I think you’re sort of fun. I’ve only known you for…an hour and twenty-five minutes? Plus the five minutes in the dining hall this afternoon makes it an hour and thirty minutes?”

He laughed. “Thanks? You’re pretty cool, too. I wouldn’t have done this interior decorating we did otherwise. I mean I would have, but it wouldn’t have been as fun.”

“I honestly didn’t think you had it in you. You’re always so focused in class I figured you would be pretentious and stuck up. Plus, you wear a blazer and tie everyday.”

Doyoung’s face fell at her words. “We have a class together?” He chose to ignore the latter part of her comment.

Her cheeks took on yet another red hue that day as she gripped the blanket tighter in embarrassment. “Uh…no not exactly?”

Doyoung clearly heard the inflection on her last word. “Well then how?“

“I’m not a stalker!” she suddenly blurted.

“I didn’t say--“

“Your physics class is across the hall from my physics class at the same time on the same days. You sit down in the front near the door, and I sit towards the top in my classroom, but I can still see you through the doorway. You’re directly in my line of sight.”

“Yeah, that’s a stalker alright,” joked Doyoung. “What physics are you in? Did you pass your midterms?”

She was a little embarrassed to answer that. “I’m in general physics for pre-medical students. I made a 64. That’s a D. I might as well withdraw from the course at this point. I don’t think I can save my grade.”

“Well, that makes sense...Oh!” Doyoung snapped his fingers, something suddenly returning to his memory. “You’re that girl that eats candy and texts the whole class period. You own a light grey sweater that you wear every time the air conditioner kicks on.”

“You noticed me?”

“Yeah. You’re in my line of sight, too. I mean I’ve never seen you up close, that’s why I didn’t immediately recognize you from our run-ins today. But in case you didn't know, your behavior is why you failed your exam. If you ask me, I think you deserved an F rather than a D. And judging by all the candy you eat, I’m surprised you even have teeth--“

Without thinking, she grabbed the water filled condom from the nightstand and chucked it at Doyoung, which burst all over his face and white tank top. He looked shocked and blinked slowly as the water trickled down the desk chair. Before either of them realized what was happening, Doyoung was standing over her popping a balloon on top of her head, dousing her with cold water.

And thus, the war began.

After several back and forths of overhand throws and running around the room, there were now less condom balloons, severely wet furniture, and two soaking wet human bodies.

“Yuta is going to be so pissed,” she said looking around the room.

“He’ll survive.” Doyoung grabbed the blanket from the bed and moved to dry her off but she dodged, considering the wet t-shirt was cooling her skin from her sudden rise in body temperature. The impromptu physical activity, closeness and contact between the two of them, and the way their wet clothes clung to each of their bodies, and outlining every detail of their figures were to blame.

Doyoung dropped the blanket only to catch her furiously fiddling with the oversized wet shirt. “There’s no point,” she muttered. “You won’t be able to get every part of me that’s wet, so why bother?” He watched as she looked to the side at nothing in particular, her fourth time in one day garnering that rosy hue of embarrassment. He was starting to find it rather cute. However, while her expression dictated she couldn’t believe she had said that aloud, his dictated the internal struggle he currently faced with her words bouncing around in his head, immediately causing his lower head to fight against the tight restriction of the wet material clinging to his skin.

Doyoung was very intelligent. However, it didn’t take his stellar 4.0 GPA to know that Yuta’s diabolical plan since the beginning of the afternoon was finally starting to make progress. And one thing he hated was when people, well namely Yuta, got away with their evil plans. So he quickly turned away from her and walked toward the bathroom, closing it shut behind him. He laid his forehead on the door and took a deep breath. Cold water, he thought. Buddy you have to go down. Wait, I’m already soaking wet with cold water. Function, brain! He moved toward the shower anyway when he heard her lightly tap on the door.

“Doyoung? I’m sorry if what I said was inappropriate. What drawer are the clothes in?” Doyoung simply looked at the door and didn’t respond. “Doyoung?” After three more repeats of his name she let it go with a heavy sigh and went to find the drawer herself.

Doyoung felt bad for ignoring her so he peeped his head out the bathroom only to find the wet T-shirt discarded. She was standing in only her bralette and panties this time, the garments perfectly outlining the shape of her assets. He couldn’t help the choking noise that was caught in his throat, causing her to spin around in surprise.

Both their eyes grew wide like two horny teenagers who accidentally saw the half naked body of the opposite sex for the first time.

“I found the drawer and--”

Legend has it Doyoung lost control of his body as he walked from behind the door and into the room. The tent residing on his lower half at full attention and on display for her enjoyment.

He locked his eyes with hers. “After three years of pent up sexual frustration, my prefrontal cortex has decided to shut off and allow my glans and shaft to think for itself. Hence the situation I have in my boxers.” He motioned a hand downwards and she couldn't help her eyes from quickly darting to and from the area. “Now, I’m not one of those dudes like you see running around this frat house that needs to bang girls everyday. My education comes first. Speaking of coming,” her eyes slightly widened at the abrupt segway, “I haven’t done so with another person since high school, which was with my ex-girlfriend who later cheated on me with a football player. Therefore, I’m super clean with minimal, yet enough experience.

“Okay, Yuta is a horrible best friend, but I have to give him props because without him I wouldn’t be in this current situation. I was awarded a full scholarship to this school for my academic achievement, so I’m smart enough to know that there’s a 99% chance of the both of us leaving this room after pleasuring one another.” There wasn't even a chance for her mouth to fall open as he kept on speaking. “If not, I would have killed this boner in the bathroom and you would not be standing here with me looking this damn sexy in your...fuck!” He urgently ran a hand through his hair as sweat started to accumulate on his brow. “I’m not forcing you to do anything, we don’t have to do anything, and I’m not insinuating that you’re a girl that came to this party just to hook up with a guy. We can just continue to sit it out and wait to be rescued and then maybe I can show you what a pizza Friday should be and maybe help you bring your failing class average to a decent C+, maybe even B-. I don’t know. How’d your other tests go? Wait, who’s your profess--“

“Doyoung!” For a guy that looked like he had it together he sure let it all go in front of her. She stepped closer to him, her skin igniting as she did so. Whether the stars were aligned or not, admittance to paying attention to one another during class time was the first step of mutual chemistry. That and the evident arousals in both their underwear.

Doyoung’s breath hitched when she placed one hand over his chest and watched her carefully as she played with his wet tie with the other. “Fuck it,” she shrugged. “I’m all in. Me, mons pubis, and friends.”

Both of them had to stifle a laugh and then she tugged him closer by the accessory. His arms instinctively wrapped around her, his palms warm against the smooth skin of her cold back. He watched her eyes flicker from his lips back to his eyes as she bit the side of her bottom lip.

“Loosen your tie, Doyoung.”

And loosen his tie he did.

- C

#nct #kim doyoung #doyoung fic #nct fic #nct scenario #nct 127 #nct u #doyoung #doyoung smut #nct smut #nct doyoung #c writes

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frivoloussuits · 7 years

Text

Never Have I Ever

Louis isn't quite sure how he managed to talk Harvey Specter into playing "Never Have I Ever," but the team's all here, and they are going to bond, dammit!

Ships: Marvey Rating: Mature (to be safe) Warnings: Sexual humor Word count: 2K

Written for Suits 100′s 9th prompt: “Never Have I Ever… The PSL crew (either all of the (main) characters or just a selection) engage in a game of ‘Never Have I Ever…' – Why they do and what happens is up to you.“

“I cannot believe we are still here.”

“Louis, I never thought I’d say this, but I 100% agree with you.”

The two named partners grin at each other, looking around at the glass-walled office that somehow is still theirs, at the firm that is somehow still intact, even after Anita Gibbs’ latest scorched-earth attack.

“We should unwind,” Louis says, clapping Harvey on the back and ignoring his flinch, “like the night Mike went to prison.”

“Wait a minute--” Mike enters the room at that moment-- “what’d you do the night I went to prison?”

Harvey smirks. “You remember how we figured out how to get rid of Hardman?”

“You’re kidding. You and Louis--”

“--and don’t forget Jessica.”

As Mike’s jaw drops, Katrina walks in. “What about Jessica?”

“She’s proud of us for once again saving the firm from certain death,” Harvey covers smoothly, ignoring Mike’s gawping.

“But really,” Louis cuts in, “we should have some sort of celebratory bonding exercise!”

Katrina looks at him sharply. “Louis, while I would trust anyone in this room to defend me against criminal charges, I don’t trust any of you to catch me if I fall backwards.”

Harvey looks mildly offended, and Mike flat-out squawks in protest.

“There are other options,” Louis points out. “Strictly verbal games, strategy games . . . Or we could just go home and sleep.”

A shadow crosses Mike’s face as he thinks of going back to his apartment-- sadly empty, now that he and Rachel have called it off for good. Harvey catches the look and sighs, “What games are we talking about, exactly?”

Once again brightening, Louis says, “Well, there’s this whole array of games that I always saw Esther playing, but I never got invited. ‘Would You Rather,’ ‘Never Have I Ever’ . . .”

On hearing that option, Harvey releases a snort. “That’s never going to happen. I’m obviously the most experienced one here, and I don’t play games I can’t win.”

“Well . . . We could always make up a special lawyers’ edition,” Katrina remarks.

"Yeah,” Mike adds, “we can amend the rules to suit our purposes. First off, let’s say there’s two winners-- the last person in, but also the first person out. And in order to avoid a repeat of today’s disaster, nobody can say anything that could implicate any of us or our coworkers in a crime or open us to litigation.”

“It’d be fun if we had a version of ‘taking the fifth,’” Katrina muses.

“Maybe you can lie in your response on at most one turn,” Louis contributes.

“I’m in!”

They turn around and find Benjamin has somehow materialized in the doorway, smiling broadly at them.

“Well, then . . .” Harvey rolls his eyes, “I guess it’s time for a teenage girl sleepover party. Next we can do each other’s hair.”

“Hey, would you let me--”

“No, Louis."

Thus they end up sitting in a circle in Harvey’s office, waiting for their managing partner to make the first move.

“Never have I ever slept with a-- hang on, that’s not actually true anymore. Never have I ever seen Louis shirtless.”

He grins as everyone else folds a finger.

“That’s not fair, there’s a mirror in my bathroom, that guarantees I lose a finger!”

“That’s how the game’s played.”

Mike shoots their IT specialist an odd look. “Benjamin?”

“There are more cameras in this firm than you people realize.”

Katrina just shakes her head and mutters, “Damn mudding.”

Harvey: 10. Mike: 9. Louis: 9. Benjamin: 9. Katrina: 9.

“Just to be clear--” Mike narrows his eyes at Harvey-- “never have I ever wanted to see Louis shirtless.”

“Okay, that’s not fair either--” Louis breaks off into a gasp. “Katrina?”

“There have been times,” she admits, eyes downcast, “when I have had a lapse in judgement.”

Mike glares at their IT specialist. “Benjamin.”

“Okay, so maybe I installed some of those cameras.”

Harvey: 10. Mike: 9. Louis: 8. Benjamin: 8. Katrina: 8.

“Oh you . . .” Louis shakes his fist at Harvey. “Never have I ever flirted with Jessica Pearson.”

“Now we’re talking--” Harvey beams as he puts his first finger down, only to frown. “Back up, Louis, you’ve definitely flirted with Jessica.”

“No, I haven’t!”

“Just because you did it by accident doesn’t mean you didn’t do it. You gaped just like every other associate back then!”

“Benjamin,” Mike protests.

“Just because she didn’t notice doesn’t mean I didn’t do it!”

Harvey: 9. Mike: 9. Louis: 8. Benjamin: 7. Katrina: 8.

Benjamin simply announces, “Never have I ever willingly bought a Mac product.”

“Hang on,” Mike says, “have you been coerced into buying a Mac product?”

“You should fear the Apple fandom, Mike.”

Harvey: 8. Mike: 8. Louis: 7. Benjamin: 7. Katrina: 7.

Wearing a smug smile, Katrina says, “Never have I ever spent a consecutive 365-day period employed by Pearson Specter Litt.”

“Mike,” Harvey scowls, “you’ve definitely worked a full year at the firm.”

“Ah, but she didn’t say the firm, she said ‘Pearson Specter Litt.’”

“I meant the firm--”

“But you didn’t say it,” Mike grins. “I worked at Pearson-Hardman for a full year, and at Pearson Specter for a full year, but Pearson Specter Litt? Nope.”

“Ugh,” Katrina says, “you need to pick a name and stick with it. Unless you’re going to add ‘Bennett’ in there, of course.”

Harvey: 7. Mike: 8. Louis: 6. Benjamin: 6. Katrina: 7.

Harvey whips out his most lecherous smirk as he says, “Never have I ever had sex in the office.”

“Missing out, man,” Mike replies, throwing back a smirk of his own.

Harvey inhales sharply before murmuring, “I didn’t need that image.”

“Louis,” Katrina near-whispers, “you had sex in the office?”

“Is it so utterly impossible to imagine me as a wild, untamed associate desperately in need of discipline by my betters?”

“. . . And I definitely didn’t need that image.”

Then Mike looks at their IT specialist and exclaims, “Benjamin!”

“I’m not under oath, you’re not getting any more details out of me.”

“That’s . . .” Mike grimaces. “That’s actually probably good.”

“But let’s just say The Donna isn’t my only project.”

“Benjamin!”

Harvey: 7. Mike: 7. Louis: 5. Benjamin: 5. Katrina: 7.

Mike grants them all a beatific smile before saying, “Never have I ever graduated from a school in Cambridge.”

“Low blow, kid. I’m proud of you,” Harvey chuckles.

Harvey: 6. Mike: 7. Benjamin: 4. Louis: 4. Katrina: 6.

“Never have I ever tasted a Stilton,” Louis announces, “without pairing it with an excellent port.”

Katrina shudders. “Why would anyone eat a Stilton without port?”

“I can’t possibly imagine, but it seems those two uncultured swine can tell you . . . Hang on, Harvey. You’ve never tasted a Stilton without port? I-- I’m proud of you--”

“I haven’t, given that I have no idea what the hell a Stilton is.”

“. . . Never mind, I need to take your name off the wall at the soonest opportunity.”

Harvey: 6. Mike: 6. Louis: 4. Benjamin: 3. Katrina 6.

“Never have I ever--” Benjamin surveys the other four before proceeding-- “wanted to hit Louis Litt in the face.”

“That’s because you’ve never dealt with him alone for more than two minutes,” Harvey says.

“Possibly.”

“Katrina--” Louis stares at her once again-- “I’m shocked and flattered.”

“I’m an archer, Louis, I fantasize about shooting you in the chest.”

“As a fellow marksman, I can respect that.”

“Louis,” Mike says with a puzzled frown, “why did you put a finger down?”

“I admit, I have occasionally caught sight of my face in a mirror and thought that, really, it is a supremely punchable visage.”

“Self-awareness is a virtue,” Harvey remarks.

Harvey: 5. Mike: 5. Louis: 3. Benjamin: 3. Katrina: 6.

“Never have I ever worn a man’s suit,” says Katrina.

“Mike,” Harvey scolds, “you can’t call those rags ‘suits.’”

“But Harvey, I spent 500 dollars!”

“Oh, shut up,” he says, voice undeniably fond.

Harvey: 4. Mike: 4. Louis: 2. Benjamin: 2. Katrina: 6.

It’s Harvey’s turn. “Never have I ever worn a dress . . . Of course you did, Louis.”

“I was playing Lady Bracknell!” Louis exclaims.

“Someone here is lying,” Benjamin says under his breath, “and I know who it is.”

Harvey: 4. Mike: 4. Louis: 1, Benjamin: 2. Katrina: 5.

“Never have I ever ridden a bicycle without a helmet,” Mike says.

After a moment, Benjamin observes, “We’re all a lot more risk-averse than our arrest records would suggest.”

Harvey: 4. Mike: 4. Louis: 1, Benjamin: 2. Katrina: 5.

“In honor of the salacious reputation that this game enjoys out in popular culture,” Louis says, “never have I ever had a sexual fantasy involving cheesy legal jargon.”

“Define cheesy,” Benjamin immediately demands.

Katrina gives him a look. “If you have to to ask . . .”

Harvey had lowered a finger, but he slowly unfurls it.

“Harvey?” Mike asks.

“I can’t remember whether I’ve ever had a fantasy, or whether it’s always been real-life.”

“Harvey!”

“I specialize in mergers, what do you expect?”

Harvey: 4. Mike: 4. Louis: 1, Benjamin: 1. Katrina: 4.

“Never have I ever had a net worth of over fifty million dollars,” says Benjamin.

Harvey Specter would never pout, but he comes close. “Did you just-- make me feel slightly insecure about my financial situation?”

Harvey: 4. Mike: 4. Louis: 1. Benjamin: 0. Katrina: 4.

“Regardless,” Benjamin says, “I’m our first winner.”

“That’s not fair,” Katrina retorts. “You can’t say something that’s false on your turn.”

“Unless he just saved his fifth amendment right until now, because we never specified that you couldn’t use it to respond to your own statement,” Mike points out.

Harvey groans. “I can’t believe I have to win this by lasting the longest. This game has been aggravatingly non-sexual.”

“Well,” Mike chuckles, “if lasting is a problem for you, then maybe you should stick to non-sexual games from now on.”

“Never have I ever wanted to punch Mike Ross. Oh wait, no false statements.”

“Wait your turn!” Mike says, swatting him on the shoulder.

“Never have I ever slept with a woman,” Katrina says.

Louis throws up his hands, crying, “And so my sexual prowess does me in!”

Harvey: 3. Mike: 3. Louis: 0. Katrina: 3

“Never have I ever been hired by Harvey Specter for a job,” Harvey says.

Harvey: 3. Mike: 2. Katrina: 2.

“Okay, I know I should do something obviously strategic like ‘Never have I ever stood face-to-face with Mike Ross,’ but . . . Never have I ever spent over an hour doing my hair.” Mike looks at the results and grins. “Just as effective.”

Harvey: 2. Mike: 2. Katrina: 1.

“Hmm,” Katrina says, considering. “Along the same lines, never have I ever spent more than thirty seconds gazing at Harvey Specter’s chin or cheekbones.”

“How?” Louis yelps. “How can you resist the thrall?”

“You gaze at me, Mike?”

“You gaze at you, Harvey?”

Harvey: 1. Mike: 1. Katrina: 1.

“Never have I ever checked out Harvey Specter’s-- hang on, that’s not technically true.” Harvey sighs, rubbing his forehead, and says, “All right, never have I ever worked for Louis.”

“Oh, come on . . .” Mike protests.

“It’s a fair, if boring, move,” Katrina says with a shrug. “And I already used my fifth amendment right.”

“So did I,” Mike admits. “Okay, Harvey, you won fair and square.”

They look over at Louis, who is downright shaking with excitement. “I can’t believe we did that! We bonded! Next up is ‘Truth or Dare’!”

The other four look at each other. “Actually . . .”

“I have work.”

“Same.”

“I gotta go.”

“I’m not playing anything more unless we get drugs this time.”

The shout goes up in unison: “Benjamin!”

Harvey moves to his desk to work, and the others start to filter out. Mike is the last to leave, but Harvey calls out while he’s in the doorway, “Hey, did you take the fifth on the dress question?”

Mike spins around, a funny expression on his face. “I don’t have to tell you if I took the fifth.”

“And yet you just did,” Harvey smirks.

“In return, can I say what I would have said if I made it to my next turn?”

“What?”

“Never have I ever wanted to have sex with Mike Ross.”

Harvey matches his gaze, poker face firmly in place as he contemplates his answer. “I would have taken the fifth.”

Mike nods, walks out of the room calmly, and waits until he’s safely in the elevator to break out into cheers.

#suits100fanwork #marvey #suits #harvey specter #mike ross #louis litt #katrina bennett #benjamin

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