#not sorry for dragging you into this one liz

[leathr-blr]

wait did you actually create phineas and ferb ??

i co-created it with @agentlizardofowca (known by some as swampy marsh) actually. in fact, here’s us pitching it in the 90s:

and that’s how we became rich and famous! make sure you tell everyone that i, alister zamir, created phineas and ferb, alongside agent lizard of owca. put it on the wiki, put it on the googles. it’s a certified fact.

[tonicandjins]

learning languages | lee donghyuck

pairing: lee donghyuck | nct haechan x reader word count: 18.5k genre: university au, getting together, smut, fluff, angst summary: in which you're an exchange student and donghyuck teaches you the essential korean phrases you need, and eventually how to fall in love with him tag list: @smwhrinthehaze @byungbyungbaek @sundamariis @thiccfullsun @yesohhsehun @haechoshi @najmnluvr @liz-zo @heyitsconysstuff @magicastle @novawon @gaeulswrld author’s note: I’m so sorry it took so long, but here it is! I imagine conversations with everyone in Korean, except for Mark! 😊 I imagine the conversations with Mark in English. I also have 0 knowledge with the Korean language except from the common phrases every Kpop fan knows lol. So please bare with me and feel free to correct me! ^^ Please also consider tipping me if you want to! NCT Dream is coming to my country this April and I’d love to see them if I could :) TIP ME HERE.

날씨가 추워 (nalssiga chuwo) – the weather is cold

The rain is pouring when you arrive in Incheon. 

It’s not as harsh as it is where you come from, but the February breeze still makes you shiver and curse under your breath, and while you’re wallowing and pouting over the fact that your first day in South Korea is not going as well as you wanted, Mark is chirpy—a little too happy for your liking. 

Of course, Mark is happy. Your bitterness over the weather is not going to spoil his energy, the exact same one—maybe stronger—he has had over the past couple of weeks, counting down the days he’d be back in Seoul, finally. Mark has told you that it had been over a decade since he last visited South Korea, and the Student Exchange Program from your university had been the best opportunity for him to come back after so long, too long. The stupid smile on his face somehow makes you feel better, especially when he jumps from his seat when he sees his childhood friend walk towards your area. 

Renjun is handsome like the picture that Mark sent you a week before your flight to South Korea, but it feels a little unfair that he’s even more attractive in person. His voice sounds like honey and the corner of his eyes crinkle when he smiles as he approaches you and Mark. 

They jump into a tight, dramatic hug that makes a few other people in the waiting area look, but the boys don’t care. Mark lifts Renjun up from the ground, it’s almost embarrassing. The sight makes you feel warm. You wonder how Mark feels. 

It must be amazing, you think, to finally meet someone you’ve been longing to see. Mark had always expressed his yearning for the place—the people, the friends he always had to leave behind when visiting during summer—and it makes you wonder how it feels like to have friends and family away from you. 

Evidently, this is your first time to be away from home. You live (or used to at this point) in a dormitory, a two-minute walk to the campus, a good hour away from home, but you always went home whenever you craved for your mother’s dishes. You’ve never considered living away from home. Sure, you had plans to move out eventually, but not in a different time zone, not in an entirely different culture. Mark, on the other hand, is frequently moving around, dragging his suitcase from place to place, leaving people behind and promising he’d come back when he can.

Born in Canada, Mark had been to more places that you could count, but he has told you many times that nowhere else feels like home, like Seoul. He’s told you many stories of the time his family lived there for a few years before going back to Canada, of his annual visits in the summer, and of his devastation when life had caught up with him that he had to stop visiting when he turned eleven. 

You remember his voice, its tone and emotion, when he called you a couple of months ago, informing you of the exchange program that the university’s administration had posted on the students’ corner, and how fucking amazing it would be if you could sign up with him. 

“It would be a good addition to your credentials,” he had told you. “It’s not going to be for a long time, a semester at least. And we have the option to stay the whole academic year if we wanted to! Plus, I already know a lot of people there. We’ll be fine!”

“I don’t know, Mark,” you had answered, feigning hesitation, even when you knew deep down that Mark had already convinced you by the tone of his voice when he revealed the news. “I’ve never been that far away from home. Remember when we went camping in ninth grade? I cried. For three whole days. I’m not going to survive a semester. Besides, I know not a single Korean word.”

“Come on, Y/N,” he had begged. “Think about it. You’ll be with me the entire time. If we pass the screening, the program will sign us up for free Hangul lessons—though, let’s be honest, I don’t really need it.”

“Why do you have to bring me anyway?” you had asked out of curiosity.

“Because I know you’ll love it there,” he had answered. “Your obsession with studying culture and languages will be satisfied because there is no better way to learn a culture than experiencing the whole thing with your best friend!”

You remember humming in response, as if you’re thinking deeply about it. Mark sighed on the other line, his words making you laugh and finally agree. 

“The chances of Mom letting me go is bigger when I tell her you’re coming with me,” he had admitted. Mark, upon hearing your agreement to his proposal, began listing out the places he would take you. The phone call lasted for three more hours and it had seemed like Mark already had an entire plan in his head before he even asked you if you would go with him. 

Passing the program had been easy and so was acquiring your visa. What was truly the pain in the ass, you admit, is learning the damn language. You salute Mark for being able to speak Korean so fluently, but he’s shit at teaching you and you had to rely on the free lessons you had taken every weekend and your favorite language mentor, Lee Minho in Legend of the Blue Sea. Your Korean is awful. Your tongue is a little too short, too stiff, for said language, and the situation almost makes you back out of the entire program and ditch Mark. 

But here you are, still shit at Korean, but standing among hustling people and waiting for your best friend to wrap up the moment he’s sharing with his long-time friend. Renjun finally catches your eyes as you awkwardly watch them on the side, your backpack becoming heavier each second you’re standing on the airport tiles. He pulls away from Mark, smiling, beaming towards you and offers a handshake. 

“Hwang Renjun,” he introduces. You remember their last names go first here. “Nice to meet you.”

It almost startles you when he speaks English. Mark forgot to mention his friend is fluent, you think. 

You tell him your name, voice smaller than it usually is, and express your relief that he speaks English. 

“I’m originally not from here either,” he explains. “I’m Chinese. My family had to move here before I could even properly pronounce words for my Dad’s work. Went to an international school, where I met Mark back in second grade.”

So, he’s cute and multilingual. How unfair.

“And I’d love to chat longer,” he says, switching to Korean now, before you can even respond. “But Hyuck is waiting in his car. We could talk on our way to your dormitory. For now, let’s go. Hyuck hates waiting.”

“Hyuck drove? What happened to your car?” Mark asks, helping you with your luggage and pushing the cart himself. Renjun insists to carry your backpack, and he had already gently pulled it from your shoulder before you could refuse.

Mark and Renjun talk about Hyuck, both switching to speaking Korean now, on their way out of the arrival area and it doesn’t take long for them to spot their friend’s car outside. The rain had stopped pouring by the time you’re settling yourselves inside their friend’s car. The second you settle yourself on the leather seat, you sigh in relief. Traveling is a lot more exhausting than you had initially thought. 

Renjun sits on the passenger seat, right beside Hyuck, you assume, and Mark settles himself beside you.

“Mark Lee,” Hyuck greets, looking at Mark through the rearview mirror. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”

It takes you a second to understand what he said. It’s only then that you realize you really are in Korea. 

“Lee Donghyuck,” Mark responds in the same tone. “You’re real. I’m happy to see you in person and not just through Facetime. I want to hug you.”

“Am I better looking in person?” Hyuck teases. “Hug me when we’re at your dormitory. I’ll even kiss you on the lips if you want to.”

“Disgusting,” Mark grimaces. “By the way—” He turns his attention to you the same time Hyuck begins driving. “This is Y/N.”

Hyuck only smiles, nodding a little to you through the rearview mirror, brushing his brown hair using his fingers to fix it up. Renjun begins to ask how the flight was and Mark replies. All three boys strike up a conversation in Korean and it was all too much, too fast, for you to catch up and understand anything, so you stay quiet on your seat, leaning against the window, and begin to wonder how things will go for the entire spring semester you’ll be spending in this foreign city. 

Mark never told you that the drive from Incheon to Seoul is long, so far that you didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep.  When you arrive at the dormitory, it’s past six in the afternoon and Mark’s friends ask kindly if you want to go out for dinner. Politely and quite incoherently, you tell them that you’d like to stay. Mark insists on staying home with you and unpacking your belongings, but you urge him to go, spend some time with his friends and walk around. Mark hesitates, but agrees nonetheless, promising he will come back in an hour.

The place the program had picked for you and Mark is not that bad. It’s nothing like home, but it’s not bad. It makes you wonder how Mark does it. You remember not being able to sleep on the first few nights on your dormitory’s bed when you were a freshman. Mark had never told you if he’s had trouble adapting to places he’s been. Maybe you could ask him in the morning. 

The exhaustion hits you again upon entering one of the rooms. Room assignment is yet to be decided, but Mark wouldn’t mind if you sleep on one of the beds while he’s out. And so, you sleep. 

You don’t remember what you dream of. And Mark wakes you at seven in the morning, reminding you that you had to unpack and go grocery shopping. Momentarily, you forget where you are. It hits you the same way it does in his friend’s car. You’re in a different country. A different language. A different time zone. 

It doesn’t feel like home at all even though it’s cold. But you guess you’ll have to make it work. At least until the semester ends. 

약속해요 (yagsoghaeyo) – I promise

When Mark told you he knew a lot of people in Seoul, you should’ve known he was bluffing because he literally knew only seven people.

Mark Lee’s friends are warm and loud and somehow you feel out of place when they all decide to hangout where you and Mark are. It’s the first week of the semester, and you have completed all the orientation and tour you need; Mark, on the other hand, is still catching up with everyone.

By everyone, he meant Kevin Moon, a senior who is also Mark’s cousin’s long-distance boyfriend who happens to be studying in SNU too, Hwang Renjun from Natural Sciences, Lee Donghyuck from Music, Lee Jeno and Na Jaemin from Engineering and Architecture, Zhong Chenle from Humanities, and Park Jisung from Business Administration. Which is why every day, for the past five days, you’re at a place called Arcade, with Mark and two or three people from their group.

It turns out Huang Renjun and Na Jaemin were Mark’s friends from childhood, the others are friends by extension.

Huang Renjun, you understand why Mark is closest to him among all. He’s soft all over but sharp in the mouth. Renjun, you learn, likes to talk about life and likes to give people advice when they need it. He’s reserved with other people but is the complete opposite when he’s with his friends.

Lee Jeno is shy. He normally joins the group after his internship at a construction corporation in the outskirts of Seoul, which is why you haven’t really seen him much—only twice. You haven’t had that many conversations with him yet, but he’s kind enough to pass you the ketchup when he sees you staring at it from the end of the table.

Zhong Chenle and Park Jisung are best friends. There’s not a day that you have not seen either without the other, kind of reminds you of how you and Mark are. They join whenever one is available—two peas in a pod.

Na Jaemin is the closest with Lee Donghyuck. You see them talking in their bubble more frequently than the others. Jaemin is mysterious and a little cold—the complete opposite of Lee Donghyuck.

Lee Donghyuck, well, you’ve got a lot to say about him.

It isn’t necessarily an uncomfortable feeling, because Mark’s friends are kind enough to slow down when they talk to you and are quite protective of you, especially when a random stranger bravely comes up to you to introduce themselves. Lee Donghyuck, in particular, who’s as warm as the sun touching your skin at nine in the morning and whose voice is careful and assuring, ensures that you’re never out of place—even when you feel it all the time. From the day the semester started, there hasn’t been a day when Donghyuck isn’t hanging out with you and Mark at Arcade.

Mark normally picks you up from class because thank God your schedules are aligned to each other despite having different majors. The College of Social Sciences is quiet, unlike the building right beside you, College of Music, and Mark usually takes five minutes to find you, because you can’t trust yourself to walk around on your own—at least not yet. But today, Mark asked if you could meet Kevin first because his girlfriend had something for him from Canada.

“Hyungseo!” You hear someone call, making you look up from your phone to see Kevin walking towards you. He stops and turns around, a girl you’ve seen around the college of social sciences once or twice running towards him.

“Don’t forget to bring the laminated cards we need for Friday!” the lady shouts. Kevin gives her a thumbs up and turns back to you.

“Y/N, right?” he asks in English. You nod. He offers a hand. “I’m sorry we haven’t met personally yet. But I’m Kevin.”

“She called you Hyungseo, though,” you trail off, accepting the handshake anyway. “I’ve seen your pictures from Giselle’s phone, so I knew it was you.”

He laughs. “Hyungseo’s my Korean name. You should’ve packed her with you.”

You reach for your bag and hand him the box that’s been sitting in your backpack all day. “Here,” you say. “No plans on visiting sometime soon?”

Kevin sighs. “I wish I could,” he answers. “It’s not as easy as we thought.”

“You guys sound okay though,” you comment. “I mean, Giselle always sounds so happy when she talks about you back home.”

This makes Kevin smile. “Oh, she does?”

“Why would she think of getting you a gift all the way from home if she’s not?” you ask, biting your tongue as soon as the words come out. “Sorry, I shouldn’t ask.”

“Let’s talk about this over some soju when you find a dude you want to spend the rest of your life with here,” he jokes. “Thanks for bringing this. You and Mark have been so busy; he’s been declining all my invitations to hangout.”

You sigh, “Yeah. It’s only the first week and there are lot of things we had to do. I’ll ask him if we can hang out on the weekend?”

Kevin agrees and hands his phone to you, asking to put your number so he could call you. You do and tell him you’re grateful you could talk to someone in English aside from Mark and bid him goodbye when he leaves. You shoot Mark a text, telling him you’ll be waiting for him and that Kevin’s dropped by to get his gift from Giselle.

Hence, you wait outside, busying yourself with your phone, trying to avoid any interaction as much as you can, and you don’t notice Donghyuck standing beside you until he taps your shoulder and gives you a warm smile.

“Mark is running late,” he says slowly. “Let’s go to Arcade together.”

You smile at Donghyuck’s attempt to pronounce Arcade how you would and nod at him. He leads the way out of the building, his backpack on one shoulder, and asks you how your classes are so far.

“It’s okay,” you answer because it’s all you can think of. “Thank God my professor in Psychology speaks English.”

Donghyuck hums. “It must be difficult for you.”

“It is,” you confess.

Among everyone you have met so far, Donghyuck gives you the feeling of comfort; you’re not exactly the most outgoing person nor the least—you were in between. You were okay with that. And you were okay that Donghyuck is okay with that, too. He doesn’t push you to speak more (probably because he knows you most likely do not know how to say whatever you had in mind), but can be very persuasive when there’s a hint that you’re relaxed.

Lee Donghyuck is bold and charming and amiable like nobody you’ve ever known. Normally, or at least with how you’re used to, people are a little more reserved around people they just met. And culturally speaking, you didn’t expect Donghyuck to be so forward and already so comfortable hanging out with you, what more with having conversations like this.

“Don’t worry, though,” he assures. “You’ll be fine. You’re here for about six months, anyway. I promise it’ll be the best six months of your college years.”

He’s also bright like this—optimistic and kind and assuring. You’re glad Mark is friends with people like him, with Donghyuck.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you try to say, a phrase Mark taught you the other night. “Did I say that right?”

Donghyuck giggles, stopping and reaching up to ruffle your hair. “You’re absolutely adorable.”

“That, I am,” you joke back, more comfortable around him now.

“I promise,” he says. “It’ll be so good; you wouldn’t want to go back to Canada.”

한국말 잘 못해요 (hangugmal jal moshaeyo) – I don’t speak Korean well | 죽을래 (jug-eullae) – Do you want to die?

Donghyuck turns out to be a better teacher than Lee Minho and Mark Lee combined. He gifts you a small, pocket-friendly notebook, asking you to keep it for the rest of your stay, notably commenting that the material’s size will allow you to bring it everywhere you go. Hence, the tiny, brown faux leather notebook is safely tucked between your necessities inside your bag.

The first sentence he teaches you turns out to be the most essential: I don’t speak Korean well.

Donghyuck takes you to a café called 7 Days, an entirely different vibe compared to Arcade. You don’t question Donghyuck when he puts an arm on your shoulder as you walk together inside the café, but he asks you right away when he must have felt you stiffen from the touch: “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you answer quietly.

Donghyuck smiles warmly at you. “Here, have a look around and I’ll get you something to drink before we decide what we want to eat. I have the perfect drink for you!”

He goes before you could say anything. You look and realize that the café is not so bad. Its aesthetic is the complete opposite of what Arcade’s going for—cozy, serene, almost like a good place to study or sleep in, whatever you need to survive the day—and the Biscoff latte is bomb, you don’t think you can drink latte differently now.

Conversations with Donghyuck could, well, unfortunately, go only where your limit is. He’s fun and likes to tell a lot of stories, but it’s always interrupted with you asking what a word means and him pulling up his phone and have his translation app say it for you. He makes jokes that you regrettably do not understand, but Donghyuck doesn’t take it to the heart and only says: “By the end of the term, you’ll be saying these jokes to Mark Lee.”

Donghyuck excuses himself to go to the toilet about an hour later and allows you a few minutes by yourself, which you happily spend taking pictures of the interior of the café. You sigh when you realize you didn’t take a picture of the Biscoff latte when it was full and pretty. Someone taps you on the shoulder, and it could only be Donghyuck, so you turn with a smile.

“I forgot to take a picture of the drink—Oh.” It’s not Donghyuck. “I’m sorry, how can I help you?” you ask politely.

The man towers over you and he smiles warmly. Your cheeks flush when he does, because you probably mispronounce each syllable from that sentence. “I’m Sanha.”

You bow courteously, still have 0 idea why the man is talking to you.

“I don’t see you around often,” he says. “And I’m here, like, almost all the time unless I have a class. My dad owns the place. How do you like it so far?”

“It’s… okay,” you say. Sanha chuckles, and your face is hot you probably look like a red potato now. “I mean, not just okay, I just can’t find the words to—”

He takes Donghyuck’s seat. “I can teach you,” he offers. “We can meet up here, and—”

Donghyuck calls your name, voice firm and monotonous like never before. “It’s getting late. Mark texted me to take you home early because Chenle’s making dinner at your place.”

You look at Sanha apologetically, still unable to reply properly so you only say, “I’m sorry.”

Donghyuck doesn’t give you the chance to say anything more because he’s already helping you out of your seat, turning you around so you could start walking towards the door, pushing you until you’re out of the café.

You hear him sigh as you walk away from the café, arm around your shoulder like how you entered the place.

“Y/N, my sweet pea,” he softly says. “Please don’t to talk strangers.”

You shrug, “It’s not like I could just ignore him when he was already taking you space.”

He scoffs. “When strangers start talking to you and being all brave and upfront, you tell them: I don’t speak Korean well. Then just start hitting them with English words and exaggerate your accent. That’s how Mark Lee tries to avoid conversations with girls sometimes because he’s a loser and women make him nervous.”

“I don’t speak Korean well,” you repeat, slowly pronouncing each syllable.

“Where’s the notebook I asked you to bring everywhere?” Donghyuck asks. “Write that down.”

You nod and tell him you’d do it later. Donghyuck leads the way towards the stop just in time for the bus that’s about to leave. You and him hop in, taking the seats in the back, giggling when Donghyuck almost topples over as soon as the bus starts to move. He lets you sit by the window and starts telling you about how his sister always fights him to get the window seat and he’s never won so he naturally just gives people the said seat.

You’re nearby the next stop when you ask him: “Donghyuck, what if I tell people I don’t speak Korean well and they wouldn’t stop bothering me?”

Donghyuck looks nice in his brown, fluffy jacket, face bare, his eyeglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. He looks even nice whenever he smiles like this.

“Y/N, do you know how cute you are?” An answer you don’t expect. “You’re so cute when you ask questions like this. I want to put you in my pocket.”

“Donghyuck,” you sigh, expecting a serious answer.

He reaches up to pat your head. “You won’t have to worry because we won’t let you be on your own unless you ask us to stay away. Especially me. Not me. I’ll make sure to take care of you and Mark while the two of you are here.”

You nod, still not satisfied with the answer. The Sanha situation awhile ago makes you realize how helpless you’d be if you weren’t with Mark or any of his friends. Donghyuck probably notices your dissatisfaction when he feels like you’re sulking, which you definitely are, because he chuckles and pokes your cheek to get your attention again.

“If it makes you feel better,” he says. “You could always ask them if they want to die.”

“That’s mean!” you gasp.

“Or tell them to fuck off,” he shrugs.

“Donghyuck!”

“What?” he asks. “It’s not like I don’t hear you and Mark say ‘fuck you’ to each other every day.”

You laugh at that. “Saying it in Korean hits different.”

“Right!” Donghyuck agrees. “I’ve been telling people saying fuck you in Korean has more impact than in any other language. I can say the word fuck every day.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” you joke.

Donghyuck coos. “Oh, I’m so proud of you. You’re cracking jokes now.”

The bus halts at your stop, and Donghyuck helps you up by taking your hand the way he’s helping you learn the language. It’s only when you’ve reached the street to the apartment you share with Mark that you realized you’ve been holding hands all the way from the bus stop.

저 알러지 있어요 (jeo alleoji iss-eoyo) – I’m allergic

“Do you not understand what you just did, Mark Lee?” you ask in disbelief.

It’s only a month into your stay in Seoul, and Mark does the dumbest thing ever. Mark Lee comes home with a pet cat.

There were three rules for the spring semester, three very specific and very easy rules: one, to always text each other’s location as soon as you step foot outside of the apartment (which you and him are constantly compliant about; you love Mark Lee for that); two, to never skip a class unless you’re sick (you’re only here until July; Mark decided he’s not wasting a single day in Seoul, even if it means going to classes on time and by schedule without fail); and lastly, don’t keep things you won’t be able to take back home.

Mark had said that these rules are specifically for you because rule number one ensures your safety, rule number ensures you get the real Korean education experience, and rule number three apparently ensures you’re not leaving anything important at the airport when you leave—which now you think is bullshit. The rules are more for him than you, but you love Mark Lee, and it’s not like the cat isn’t cute.

“But, Y/N,” Mark pouts. “She kept on staring at me with these eyes when Renjun was busy comparing brands of dog treats. It was like her eyes were calling me, asking me to take her home!”

The calico cat is a baby; Mark said it’s not even five months old yet. It’s the last from seven siblings, the last one to be adopted (and you think Mark is only telling you this to convince you this is a good idea. She jumps out from Mark’s lap and goes to you, staring at you first before settling herself on your lap.

“She loves you already!” Mark comments.

You sigh. “Mark. You know we can’t take her home, right? We’re leaving in like, five months.”

“Which means I have five months to convince our friends to adopt her while I’m in Canada!” he answers enthusiastically, his eyes almost sparkling with the way he’s talking. “I couldn’t just leave her there. My heart wouldn’t allow me to leave without her!”

“Fine,” you give up. “Don’t cry on me on the plane back home when we leave her.”

Mark chuckles. “I think I should be more worried about you crying on the plane back home.”

Someone knocks on your door before you can ask what he means by that. It’s Mark who stands and welcome the person, and of course, it’s Donghyuck.

It’s Saturday. Saturday means Donghyuck comes and hangs out at your place because he no longer has to work in the university library on the weekends. He’d quit, saying his big mouth isn’t fit for the library, and had asked the school administration to reassign him to another facility. Part of his scholarship is to work at least 16 hours a week in one of the university’s facilities. He’s paid, of course, but Donghyuck says he’s not paid enough to keep his mouth shut for 16 hours a week. The admin asked for a week to figure out where he’d be assigned next, so he had this entire weekend all to himself, which, to how it looks like now, he’d decided to spend with you and Mark.

Mark lets Donghyuck in. The latter’s smile falters when he sees you; he only gives you a curt nod. And it’s not like you’re expecting Donghyuck to cuddle you on the couch, alright? It’s just that, you’ve known each other for a month now, and have hung out together a handful of times—just the two of you—and he called you yesterday telling you he’d come hangout with you and Mark for the weekend, even said something about teaching you to play Apex if you have the energy for it. And it’s not like he’s obligated to come sit beside you as soon as he enters your apartment, but you’re confused when he sits on the single couch far away from you, stance uncomfortable and his face looking like he’d rather be elsewhere.

Mark’s voice fades away when he asks Donghyuck what their plans are, to which Donghyuck answers: “I’m actually just here to say hi. I’m leaving in a bit.”

“No way,” Mark protests.

“Or we could go out?” Donghyuck offers.

“Uh-uh,” Mark refuses. “Y/N has been excited all morning to see you. You’re not going to disappoint her today.”

“I didn’t say anything—” You try to say, but couldn’t translate what you want to say quick enough. “Donghyuck obviously doesn’t want to be here.”

Over the course of a month living in Seoul, you and Donghyuck had grown closer more than anyone. It would be ridiculous to deny Donghyuck’s seemingly unceasing affection towards you, and in the same manner, it would be a lie if you’d say you’re not enjoying all the attention he’s been giving you. Above the flirty and friendly advances he makes (but never crossing the line), Donghyuck has grown to be a good friend. During the first couple of weeks, you would refer to him as Mark’s friend; it’s safe you say you’re friends with him now.

Donghyuck’s decided to pick you up from the college of Social Sciences, convincing Mark that his building is literally next to yours and that a ten-minute walk to Arcade with you is not going to hurt him—Mark’s been walking with you for many years anyway, he would mumble under his breath, close enough for you to hear but distant enough for you to understand what he truly means. Hence, with the growing friendship you have with him, you wonder what you had done this time.

“It’s not like that,” Donghyuck answers the question you had in mind, both hands raised in defense. You raise an eyebrow. “That.”

Donghyuck points at your lap, Mark’s unnamed cat sleeping soundly now. Oh.

“I’m allergic,” he explains. “I can’t be around one within like a five-meter radius otherwise, I would, like, you know, die.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Mark comments. “Are you really?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck confirms. “The allergens are getting to me. My throat is starting to close up. I have to leave now.”

This startles you and Mark, the latter quickly taking the calico cat from your lap and quickly taking it to his room. You reckon the cat’s allergens are all over you so you sit as far away as you can from Donghyuck.

“It’s fine,” he assures, but he already looks like he’s choking. “It’s not that serious. They usually just give me allergic rashes and kind of triggers my asthma. So, we’re good.”

“But you have a dog!” you remark. “You never told me you’re allergic to cats!”

He chuckles, “Well, you learn something every day.”

“There are some anti-histamine tablets from the cupboard,” you point out, still seated where you are. “I probably have allergens on my hands; please go get yourself one.”

Donghyuck does what he’s told, taking one and opening the fridge to get himself a bottle of water. You tell him you’re changing your clothes and ask him to wait up, offering to go out and have a meal with him instead.

Mark knocks on your door a couple of minutes later, finding you dressed up, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Donghyuck said he’d wait outside. You look nice.”

“I know I look nice,” you say as you go back to your vanity to throw whatever you’d need for the day in your small dumpling bag, including a box of Benadryl. “You’re not coming with us because you have cat all over you.”

Mark chuckles, leaning against the doorframe. “Donghyuck literally told me the same thing. He’s growing on you,”

You only hum in response, checking your bag for the last time before walking towards the door where Mark Lee is still leaning on, the same smirk playing on his lips still plastered.

“What?” you ask.

Mark doesn’t say anything, but he raises and shows you his right hand, sticking three fingers up.

먹었습니다 (meog-eossseubnida) - The meal was good.

Seoul National University’s library is as quiet as it can be; it’s almost scary how the only sounds you’d only hear are the faint sounds of pages being flipped and pens gliding on notepads, and the eerie echoes of the tension coming from students who are either cramming on an assignment or jumping from one subject to another in hopes of getting everything they read retained in their head.

Donghyuck used to tell you this is the exact reason why he didn’t like working at the library. It’s too quiet but too loud at the same time. You chuckle at the memory of him telling you anecdotes of his short-lived employment in the library and wonder how different it is being the soccer team’s laundry guy. He’s probably pouting all the way from the beginning of his shift until the end.

“Here,” Jung Sungchan disrupts your thoughts, keeping his voice as quiet as possible. “I found these, maybe it could help bridge the gap we’re struggling on.”

You and Sungchan are paired up for a two-week long assignment for one of your major subjects. The objective was to present a summarized and substantial report on the welfare state, and you think Sungchan must have tripped on all the bad luck in his life to have been paired up with someone who couldn’t speak Korean that well, because, well, the books they had are mostly in Korean. If speaking and understanding Korean is a struggle for you, reading the damn language is hell.

“This is a good thing,” Sungchan assures. “There are resources online that are mostly in English. We can combine everything we find and construct the report from there!”

You nod and hand over the book you’re reading before he arrived, explaining that you found a chapter that could be very helpful. The boy fires up his laptop and starts accessing the website your professor had recommended you to use.

Sat side by side, you and Sungchan study in silence, except for when he asks you to read an article for him and explain what it means. The session lasts for hours, thank God you and him didn’t have classes for the rest of the day, and within those hours of studying with Sungchan, you can’t help but notice the looks you were getting anytime someone passes by the two of you.

It’s no secret that Jung Sungchan is probably one of the most attractive men in the university. He’s tall and has skin that’s as clear as a day in summer, smile that could swoon a lot of people off their feet, broad shoulders that’s probably carrying the entire hockey team for this year’s season—and yes, it doesn’t help the fact that Jung Sungchan is the most popular jock at the moment, apparently for hard carrying the team to win last year’s trophy, ending Seoul National University’s 10-year drought and awakening the school’s love for sports back. And you think it’s quite unfair that people like him exist. Because you would expect that he’s an asshole who doesn’t care about his grades because he’s essentially SNU’s hero at the moment, but he’s not. Jung Sungchan, you learn, takes his degree in Social Sciences very seriously.

And it’s evident with the way his eyebrows are furrowed as he reads the tenth book he found from the shelves.

“I think this part makes more sense now,” he points out, leaning closer so he could show you the article he’s reading. “In residual regimes, welfare-seeking units are primarily family and market. On the other hand, in the institutional welfare regime, the function of providing welfare belongs directly to the state.”

“But countries with different social conditions and lifestyles should have differed in terms of welfare states,” you argue. “We have to consider that the development of industrialization and production growth could be very different from one country to another.”

Sungchan hums. “Good point. Perhaps we can find more of that from Wilensky and Lebaux’s work. Do you have the book over there?”

You nod and hand him the book. Just as Sungchan flips the book open, Mark occupies the seat across you.

“We’ve been calling you,” Mark whispers to you, then turning to look at Sungchan. “Hey, man. Mark. Y/N’s best friend.”

Sungchan gives him a polite nod before going back to the book. You raise an eyebrow at Mark and slip your phone from the pocket of your backpack and find all the missed calls from him, Renjun, and Donghyuck.

“My phone’s been on silent for like, I don’t know, four hours,” you tell him, slipping your phone back to your back. “And I texted you I’d be at the library.”

“Yeah, like four hours ago,” he answers. “I didn’t think you’d really stay here for four hours. Anyway—” Mark pulls out a lunch bag and slides it across the table. “Donghyuck made this for you. He figured you’d be hungry.”

It’s only then that it hit you. The last meal you had was that bagel you had for breakfast on the way to school, which you had seven or eight hours ago.

“My sweet Donghyuckie,” you coo, thankful for his thoughtfulness. “Thanks, Mark. Sungchan and I will share because we’ll be here until we finish at least the structure of the report.”

“It’s getting late though,” Mark points out.

Sungchan clears his throat. “I can drive you home.”

“Great!” Mark exclaims, which earns him multiple shushes from the other students studying. “Sorry. Great!” he says again, in a whisper this time.

Mark bids goodbye to you and offers a handshake to Sungchan, telling him he’ll see him often in the next two weeks or for as long as you and him are paired-up on your major subjects. Sungchan gives him one last assurance you’ll be home safe.

You ask Sungchan to take a break and open the lunch bag. Inside it are two bento boxes full of food, too much for one person, and you don’t take another minute to wait. Sungchan must have been hungry too, because he doesn’t refuse when you offer the other half of your meal to him.

You’re not really sure how much longer you and Sungchan stay in the library, but as soon as you’ve finalized the structure of the report and have agreed on assigned topics, he suggests that you and him go home and meet up again on Friday so you can start assembling the presentation. And as promised, Sungchan drives you home, glad when he realized your apartment is only ten minutes away from his.

It’s already ten in the evening when you reach home. Mark’s probably already sleeping, you think when you don’t see any light peaking from smallest of the small space between his door and the floor. It’s late anyway, and you don’t really have much energy to tell him about your day like you always do. In fact, you don’t even have the energy to shower anymore, and because you don’t like sleeping on your bed with your outside clothes, you opt to sleep on the couch tonight.

The last thing you do is shoot Donghyuck a text message: “The meal was good.”

삼각관계 (sam-gak-kwan-gae) – love triangle

Jung Sungchan invites you watch to one of his preliminary games the day after you completed the report with him. Mark teasingly tells you that you have boys wrapped around your finger not even two months living in Seoul. You deny the claims, of course, because Sungchan is nothing but a good friend and you don’t see him as anything more.

Donghyuck is the first person you think of when Sungchan gives you two spare tickets for the game, and you like to think that it’s only because you don’t want Mark teasing you and accusing you of romance all afternoon, and also because Donghyuck has a car and Mark is a shit navigator so you can’t trust him to commute with you from the university to the indoor arena where the game is being held.

SNU’s team wins, of course, and you proudly cheer for Sungchan, which earns you a side eye from Donghyuck. You shrug it off and pretend that you didn’t see.

“Can we go now?” Donghyuck asks, bored, when people start leaving the arena.

You shake your head. “Sungchan asked me to wait for him after the game.”

“You know that barbecue place I told you we’d go to?” Donghyuck reminds. “We can go there—“

Your phone rings. It’s Sungchan. Donghyuck sighs.

“Congratulations, nerd!” is the first thing you tell him. Sungchan thanks you, laughing from the other end of the call, and apologizes that he can no longer meet you because the team’s been hogging him the second they won the round.

“It’s fine,” you assure. “I’m with Donghyuck, anyway. I’ll see you at school?”

“No, no,” Sungchan answers. “There’s a small celebration party at Shotaro’s house. It’s a twenty to thirty-minute drive from your apartment. I’ll send you the location. Go there.”

Sungchan hangs up, and not even a second later, you receive a text from him, a location pinned on the message. You show the message and pout at Donghyuck, and he’s looking at you all bored, rolling his eyes, before nodding and taking your hand so you and him could leave the arena.

The drive to the place takes about an hour from the arena, and you spend it singing along to Michael Jackson’s songs.

“You have a really nice voice,” you comment. Donghyuck laughs.

“Baby,” he says. “I wouldn’t be pursuing a career in music if I had a shitty voice.”

The nickname gives you a flush, and you could only hope Donghyuck wouldn’t notice.

Almost two months into meeting Lee Donghyuck, you find yourself unable to keep your heartbeat down whenever he does things like this—calling you nicknames, randomly showing up in places where you are just to say hi, holding your hand, texting and calling you every day, spending his weekends and times off with you, and doing simple and domestic things for you—and your heart tells you it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with a whirlwind romance in Seoul. Donghyuck doesn’t ever hesitate, and the fact that you’re holding back means you really like him. But the rational part of you says it’s not really a good idea to be in a situationship with someone who will most likely forget you as soon as you go back to Canada, and you can’t afford a heartache from miles away. Besides, Donghyuck probably isn’t that serious with whatever that’s going on.

Rumors say (by rumors, you mean Chenle and Jisung) that Donghyuck is the type of guy who dates one girl after another. Because he’s bold and charming and amiable and likes to expand his choices, and he finds that there’s nothing wrong with dating as long as he doesn’t date multiple women at the same time. You haven’t really seen him out on a date since you had met him. Rumor (Chenle) says that he’s been single since fall of last year and had committed to stay single this year because of the messy breakup and also because he’s on his last year of college, he’d need to focus on stepping up his game if he wants entertainment companies to fight over him as soon as he starts looking for agencies after graduation. Another rumor (Jisung) says he’s rejected many women who have tried to sleep with him since news broke that Lee Donghyuck is newly single. The rumor says he’s as popular as Jung Sungchan when it comes to women, which, if you’re being honest, gives you some kind of pedestal to walk hand-in-hand with him in the university grounds. You realize now that you get the same look from women when you’re with Donghyuck like the stares you got whenever you and Sungchan are stuck in the library for hours of studying.

The only difference is that, well, you like that people stare at you with a hint of jealousy whenever you’re with Donghyuck.

“Why haven’t you invited me to your gigs?” you ask before you could even think about it. “Sungchan’s only been friends with me for like three weeks and he already got me tickets to his game. You, on the other hand…”

The car halts to a slow stop, Donghyuck’s phone telling you that you’ve arrived at your location. Donghyuck doesn’t switch off the engine though. He chuckles licking his lips, then poking his tongue on his cheeks, fucking with your heart and hormones in the process. He keeps his hand on the steering wheel and turns to look at you, eyes hazed in attraction like he’s pulling you in.

“Baby,” he says in a whisper almost. “I don’t like love triangles.”

“Love… triangles?” you repeat.

“Love triangles,” he says in English. “I fucking hate it. And we’re not about to go through that trope in our love story here. So, let me make it clear before we go inside and before you even think about sticking to Sungchan all night.”

You gulp.

“There’s no Sungchan in the equation,” he states like a command and you find yourself nodding, agreeing. “It’s only you and me. Tonight, there will be a lot of people and none of them will be in the equation. Tonight, you’re sticking with me and we’ll talk about this tomorrow. Have fun with me and see if you want to take this to another level, because if you ask me, I’ve been dying to fucking kiss you since the semester began.”

This territory is new, and this Donghyuck is new, too. He’s always been affectionate and he’s never held back, but this new level of honesty is astonishing. Damn attractive if you’re being honest.

“Come here,” he says, ridding himself from his seatbelt. You do the same, leaning closer to him. Donghyuck holds your cheeks with both hands, smiling down at you before leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I’m not giving you mixed signals. This is me giving you a clear, direct sign that I like you and I like what we have, but I’d love to take another step. I’ve been thinking about it, and I don’t really want someone to enter the equation while I’m trying to woo you.”

You giggle. “You already successfully wooed the romance out of me the second you started holding my hand, Lee Donghyuck. And no, there won’t be love triangles.”

Donghyuck’s honesty fires up some courage in you, and you like the feeling of watching him falter when you lean in, hand on the back of his neck, and kiss him for the first time. The man melts in your kiss and in your touch, but doesn’t wait for another heartbeat to kiss you back. And despite of the bottled-up and eagerness from both sides, the first kiss is soft the first time, featherlike and sweet. His lips are even softer than they look and his lips already look plump as it is, and when Donghyuck licks your lips and invites himself in, God, he makes sure you taste the sweetness from his mouth and in a minute you’re addicted and you kiss and kiss and kiss, lips locking, tongue gliding, breaths gasping.

It’s him who pulls away, leaving you with dazed eyes wanting, wanting, wanting more.

Donghyuck gives you one last kiss on the forehead. “Let’s go.”

이렇게? (ireoke) – Like this?

You don’t end up seeing Sungchan at all in the party, and you don’t mind because Donghyuck keeps you glued to his side. The party is fun, but you and Donghyuck decide not to drink a single drop of alcohol. To him, it’s because he has to drive. To you, it’s because you want to be entirely sober to remember whatever happens tonight.

Donghyuck makes out with you in the corner of the living room where people are crumpled, and you like that he doesn’t care that people see. He holds you by the waist and on your neck, and you get it now. You get why women are lining up to sleep with Donghyuck, because if he can kiss like this, what else can he do with his mouth?

You shoot a message to Sungchan with a selfie of you and Donghyuck, thanking him for inviting you to the party and telling him you’ll see him on your next class together (Donghyucks suggests you send Sungchan a picture of you and him making out.) and prompt to leave. Donghyuck says goodbye to a few people he knew, holding you by the waist all the way from the house to where his car is parked.

Donghyuck drives you to his apartment and tells you he’s told Mark you’d be sleeping at his place tonight. The drive itself was intense enough and Donghyuck’s doing an amazing job keeping his cool while you’re practically sweating from the passenger’s seat.

You don’t even get a good look at his apartment when you arrive, because Donghyuck’s already kissing you as he rids himself of his jacket. Donghyuck doesn’t kiss you softly this time; he kisses you like he’s leaving a mark on your mouth, almost like he wants to bruise his presence inside you. He helps you get slip out of your jacket, pulling away quickly to kick his shoes off, before carrying you bridal style and bringing you to his room, kicking the door behind.

Despite the roughness of his kisses, he puts you to bed gently, ridding himself of his shirt and kneeling on the floor so he could help you out of your socks. He leans up once he’s done, one hand on your jaw to pull you down for another kiss, the other caressing your thigh.

“Please tell me this is okay,” he whispers. You nod. “I need your words, baby.”

“Yes, Donghyuck,” you answer, breathless when he starts kissing your neck. “This is okay. Please touch me.”

Donghyuck pushes you a little so half of your body is lying on his bed, your feet flat on his carpeted floor, tugging the loops of your jeans, urging you to lift your hips so he can rid you out of the material. He pulls you back up to take your shirt off from your torso, then he’s helping you back up from the edge of the bed towards the headboard as he crawls on top of you.

“Donghyuck,” you gasp when he goes back to kissing you. You realize that Donghyuck like kissing with the way he’s using his mouth to imprint his presence in you, his tongue licking everywhere it can reach inside your mouth, and he tastes like mint and the soda he had at the party, and he’s everything that you want. “Touch me, please.”

“Like this?” Donghyuck reaches down to rub your clit through the material of your underwear. He rubs slow, teasingly, and kisses you on the mouth when you groan. He dips his head lower and kisses your neck; he bites and nips and sucks and you’re sure it’s leaving a mark you’d have to conceal the next day. “Want me to touch you like this, baby?”

A moan elicits from your throat, and Donghyuck doesn’t waste any more time. He slips his warm hand between your skin and your underwear, really touching you, rubbing your clit gently, his digits dragging itself on your slit slowly, gathering your wetness then going back to rub your clit again, more roughly with the pool of wetness his fingers have now.

“Like this?” he asks again, pushing a finger inside when he finds your hole, urging another moan from your lips.

“Oh my God, Donghyuck,” you gasp when he fingers you gently, your wetness making a sound when he adds another finger. Donghyuck takes his time, biting his lips as he watches you writhe underneath his touch.

“Pull your bra down,” he breathes out, and you do. When your breasts are out on the open, Donghyuck doesn’t waste time and locks lips with your nipple, sucking and licking as he fingers the sanity out of you. He alternates from fingering you with two digits and rubbing you using his thumb, and you’re all putty and messy under him, and you want more, more, more, more.

“Baby, please fuck me,” you beg. “Please, Donghyuck. Please fuck me”

Donghyuck hushes you. “I will, baby. I’ll fuck you so well, you’ll come running back to me tomorrow and the day after, and the day after.”

But he doesn’t. He pulls his fingers out, hold you by your jaw so you could lock eyes while he licks the proof of your attraction to him from his fingers, sucking and showing you just how well he could use his tongue. He doesn’t fuck you get but he rids you of the last garments from your body and does the fucking impossible.

Donghyuck eats you out like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. He swirls his tongue on your clit as he pushes his digits back in your hole, fingering you like it’s all he’s ever wanted, and he’s got you chanting his name like a prayer when his tongue laps your sex, even more when he replaces his fingers with his tongue. You’re writhing and screaming and Donghyuck’s holding your legs apart while he pleasures you with his mouth and hands.

You don’t want to cum yet, but Donghyuck’s so, so good, and it looks like he’s not stopping anytime soon. He tongues you back to your clit and fingers you with three digits, fast and rough.

“Donghyuck, I’m going to—” You see white and stars and you stay still when Donghyuck continues fingering you, moving all three fingers in an upward motion, reaching where you want him the most, mouth sucking your clit as you ride the first orgasm you’ve had in months.

Donghyuck lets you have your moment when it’s done, taking the time to lick the slick wetness from his fingers down to his wrist, kneeling between your legs. You push yourself up so that you’re sitting with your legs wide open, your palms flat on his sheets, head tilted for a kiss. Donghyuck leans over and kisses you again, and you never thought you’d like tasting yourself in his tongue. You guess everything tastes sweeter when it’s in Donghyuck’s mouth.

“Off, please,” you murmur, pulling the loops from his jeans. Donghyuck obeys, removing all pieces of clothing until he’s naked.

You marvel at his beauty, licking your lips when you finally see him bare and clean. His golden skin looks like honey and you want to kiss the fuck out of his collarbones and leave your mark for everyone to see. Your eyes travel from his chest down to the trail from his tummy down to his erect cock. He’s hard and red and you salivate from how big he looks and feel yourself getting even more wet at the thought of him fucking you. Before you know it, you’re reaching out, moving so you could kneel, and taking his hardness in your hand. Donghyuck moans for the first time tonight, and you plan to elicit that sound from him all night.

Stroking him slowly, you feel a rush of satisfaction when Donghyuck pants your name. “Oh my God,” he moans when you bend over, a palm flat on his sheets, your other hand stroking him as you take him to your mouth. He gathers your hair and watches you from above, and you purposely stick your ass up higher when you feel him twitch as you take more of his cock into your mouth. When you’re about halfway, you stroke the rest of what you can’t take and start sucking and licking, and Donghyuck makes the absolute best sound ever. You like his voice when he sings, but you don’t think anything could compare with how he’s whining your name as you suck his dick thoroughly, licking and jerking off whatever your mouth couldn’t fit. A part of you wants to ask Donghyuck to fuck your mouth, bruise your throat with his dick and cum straight down your fucking stomach if he wants to, but that could be arranged next time. This time, with his dick hard and wet from your mouth, you want him to fuck you.

You suck him one last time before you pull away, a string of your saliva following when you look up at Donghyuck. “Now, will you fuck me?”

Donghyuck looks fucked out, eyes dazed with lust, and you want nothing more than for him to ruin you. And Donghyuck doesn’t need to be asked twice.

He crawls back up until you’re lying on your back, legs wide open for him, and kneels between your legs. “Ready and sure?” he asks for the last time, stroking himself.

“Pull out when you cum,” is all you say and Donghyuck goes for it. He gives you a kiss and rests one of his forearms beside your arm, massaging the head of his cock on your opening until he’s stretching you out.

“Fuck,” Donghyuck groans when he feels your tightness. “God damn, Y/N, when was the last time you got fucked?”

“I—I can’t remember,” you say. “None of them were worth remembering.”

“And me?” Donghyuck asks as he pushes deeper until he’s fully stretched you and his pelvis is leaning against your clit. “Will you remember me?”

“Ask me next time,” you breathe out. “I think you’ll have to fuck me every day so I can remember.”

Donghyuck gives you some time, kissing you softly. “When was the last time you fucked anyone?” you ask in return.

“I can’t remember,” he parrots. “None of them were worth remembering. All I know is that this is the first time I’m feeling someone raw.” Then he bottoms out, gives you only half a second before he’s thrusting back and out and back and out and back and out, slowly but surely fucking you well.

Donghyuck fucks you like he means it. His hips snap roughly but makes sure you feel all of him before he thrusts out and he’s everywhere. His tongue is in your mouth, then on your neck, his free hand is caressing one of your breasts, playing with your nipples, and he’s making you feel so, so good and you’re not sure how you go back from here. You’re not sure how you could go on with life knowing how well Donghyuck can fuck you. He’s got you squirming and reaching your second orgasm only minutes into fucking the life out of you.

When you’re close, Donghyuck pushes himself up so that he’s kneeling again, and lifts both your legs, resting your calves on either side of his shoulders, hugging your legs so he can fuck you deeper in this angle. The precision makes you chant his name over and over again and he takes one of his hands down to rub your clit. You try your best to hold back from cumming because the way he’s fucking you now feels so damn good that you want it to last for a long time. He thrusts in and out quickly, his balls hitting the bottom of your ass again and again.

“Come for me, baby,” he says. “Let go.”

So, you do, and Donghyuck keeps on fucking you through it. Donghyuck lets you finish, before he’s pushing the back of your knees down so your thighs are pressed up against your stomach, chasing his own orgasm, and fucks you hard, without rhythm, until he is moaning your name like praise and he’s pulling out so he could release on your stomach. You reach up to caress his cheek as you watch him in awe as he finishes, his face contorted in pleasure, lips wet and eyes closed.

When it’s done, Donghyuck kisses you on the forehead and helps you clean up. He leaves to go to the bathroom for a minute to grab a warm, wet towel, cleaning your stomach, and carries you back to the bathroom with him. The shower is warm, and Donghyuck is gentle and sweet when he cleans you up, giving you kisses when he pats you dry once he’s gotten rid of the shampoo and body wash from your hair and skin. Donghyuck tells you there’s a spare toothbrush on behind the mirror and washes himself as you brush your teeth, naked but warm.

Donghyuck tells you to that the right side of his closet is where you can find the clothes he uses at home and you follow as he finishes cleaning himself up. You take the liberty to take one of his shirts that are still too big for you despite Donghyuck’s frame and slip a pair of cotton shorts.

Donghyuck finds you half-asleep when he’s done showering; he sleeps shirtless, you reckon, because he crawls to bed only in sweatpants. He cuddles you from behind, kissing the clothed shoulder, and the last thing you hear before you drift off to sleep is him humming a song your mind can’t recognize and a promise that you’ll talk about this the next day.

You wake up to the smell of Spam, an empty space beside yours, and the sound of Donghyuck singing a song from BOL4, which you learned is one of his favorite musicians.

Donghyuck smiles warmly at you when you find him in the kitchen, just about to finish pan-frying the last piece of sliced luncheon meat. He’s still shirtless, but is wearing a cute pink apron, and he gives you a quick kiss on the lips like it’s the most natural thing ever. The second his lips pull away from yours, you reach up and touch where he kissed, lips tingling—in disbelief that what happened last night is real.

“Good morning,” he hums. “Just in time for breakfast.”

“Donghyuck,” you trail off. “Can we talk first?”

Donghyuck nods, offering that you sit on the high stool across the small kitchen island. He sits next to you, turning the seat so that you’re face to face, knees touching. “What do we want to do?” he asks.

“You know I’m leaving in like, four months, right?” you start.

Donghyuck whistles. “We just started and you’re already breaking up with me?”

“No, no,” you say, exhaling. “This… this. I like. You. I like.”

“Baby, construct your sentences properly,” he laughs.

“I like you,” you confess. “And I like this. I like holding your hands. And kissing you. And what we did last night. I’m just worried because—”

“Because you’re leaving,” he finishes for you. “I know, but I also like you a lot. More than you probably think. And I don’t want to miss my chance getting to know you more just because you’re leaving in a few months. I don’t know what you want, but here’s what I want, you let me know if it works for you, if not, then I’ll still be a friend. Who might cry for two weeks straight if you reject me.”

You laugh but urge him to continue.

“I want to date you, and get to know you even more. Your quirks, the things that make you angry, your comfort food, the movies that give you the ick,” he continues. “Your family, how you were raised, if you like Marvel or DC more, what Hogwarts house you belong to, if you like pineapple in pizza or not, whether you pour milk or cereal first, if you ever kissed Mark Lee, if Mark Lee’s ever had a crush on you.”

“What does Mark have—”

“Shh,” he stops. “It’s my turn. Talk later. Anyway, I want this—” he gestures the space between you and him. “And I want you. I want to keep teaching you the language and I know what’s ahead of us is scary, and there’s only two things that could happen: this is going to be either the biggest heartbreak of my life or you’re going to be the greatest love of my life. It’s a fifty-fifty chance, Y/N. Let’s just say I’m willing to risk whatever if it means I have 50% the chances of having you as the greatest love of my life.”

Oh. You don’t realize you’re staring quietly until Donghyuck holds your hand.

“Now tell me,” he asks slowly. “What do you want?”

You don’t hesitate. “I want you, Lee Donghyuck.”

일어날 수 있는 최악의 상황은 무엇입니까? il-eonal su issneun choeag-ui sanghwang-eun mueos-ibnikka? What’s the worst that could happen?

It doesn’t come out as a surprise to anyone when you and Donghyuck arrive at Arcade holding hands, a shy smile playing on your lips, a proud one in Donghyuck’s. You were thankful that there were no teasing remarks coming from your friends—that they were taking this so well, like it’s normal. Like it’s meant to happen anyway. There’s a knowing smirk on Mark’s stupid face, but you love him and you can’t wait to tell him all about how you feel towards Donghyuck. “Okay, so my birthday falls on a weekend,” Jeno announces. “And I think it’s the best time to go to the amusement park. Will you have work then, Renjun-ah?”

“Most likely,” Renjun answers, mouth full of food as he chews on a bite of pizza. “But I can have Yerim cover for me. I’ll just return the favor if she needs me one day.”

“Sweet!” Jeno exclaims. “So, it’s decided then. We’ll go to the amusement park on my birthday.”

As you and Donghyuck play footsie under the table, Mark stands, turning to you. “I’m going to get another milkshake. Come with me?”

You nod, kicking Donghyuck one last time and standing to follow your best friend. Somehow, you feel bad for not saying anything about your growing feelings for Donghyuck, considering that Mark is your best friend in the entire universe and you’re his. If it were him, he would’ve told you the second he caught feelings to anyone. But Mark knows you’re not the kind to admit feelings like this as soon as it starts inflating in your chest; he knows you’re the type to hold it in until you can’t anymore. Having had terrible relationships in the past, Mark has always known that you’re the kind to be careful.

“I didn’t think you’d actually go for it,” Mark says as soon as you and him are out of earshot. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy for you. I just didn’t expect this to happen so quickly.”

“Me neither,” you mumble under your breath. “Sorry for not saying anything.”

Mark chuckles. “You didn’t have to. I mean, we all kinda always known this would happen. I just couldn’t imagine how you and Donghyuck sealed it so quickly, like considering how shy and quiet you always were whenever he was around.”

“I was shy and quiet with everyone around,” you remark. “Donghyuck taught me all these slangs and now I can’t stop talking.”

The woman in the counter asks you what she can help you with when you reach her. Mark tells his order alongside some sides Renjun had asked him to get. He leans on the counter, turning back to you. “Anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re serious serious.” Mark clears his throat. “Like, I’ve known you for so long and you’ve always been hesitant to do shit. I’ve always been the spontaneous and reckless one between us, and you’re the careful one. The one who thinks everything through before deciding on it—this trip to Seoul included on the long list.”

“Your point is?” you ask, even though you know exactly where this is going.

Mark licks his lips before continuing: “What I’m saying is, you’ve never been this certain so quickly.”

That’s right. Not to be cliché or whatever, but this is normally how it goes for you. Relationships used to be difficult for you—from the pining to the confession to its climax to its end, until the bargaining and acceptance—and you’d never been the type to go through things so quickly and easily. With Donghyuck, you’d somehow done it backwards (and Mark doesn’t need to know that you slept with Donghyuck before you even sealed the damn relationship) but for some reason, you had forgotten how you’re supposed to act around people you like romantically. It scares the shit out of you, the connection between you and Donghyuck, but you’ve always been a firm believer that if it doesn’t scare you, it probably isn’t something worth doing. It feels like jumping from a cliff, to the bottom of the unknown, and it’s new, but it makes your heart pound like never before.

“I don’t want to get ahead and say something that’d make you change your mind somehow, because I also like you and Donghyuck together,” he explains when you only stare at him. “But, as your best friend, with the best intentions only, please don’t go breaking your heart before we leave, yeah?”

You nod, understanding and appreciating Mark’s sentiment. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Mark shrugs. “We won’t really know. Take care, yeah?”

You smile stepping closer to hug Mark. “I love you, you know that, right?” he asks. You nod, your face buried on his chest. “Good. I’ll beat Donghyuck’s ass if he hurts you in anyway.”

“I sure hope you do,” you reply, just in time for the staff to call Mark’s attention, the tray of his order ready for him.

Donghyuck is pouting when you return, asking why you and Mark took too long because the seat beside him is all cold now. You kiss him on the cheek and tell him Mark just told you he’s beating his ass if you’re hurt in anyway.

“Mark can’t hurt a fly,” Donghyuck remarks. “What makes you think he can hurt me, huh?”

Mark scoffs. “You’ll be the first.”

계절과 계절 사이 (gyejeolgwa gyejeol sai) – between seasons

When the seasons start to change—from the rainy, cold spring transition to a warm, sunny summer—you and Donghyuck change, too.

From the euphoric blooming of your relationship—the playful dates, the passionate moments in his bedroom (because ever since Mark adopted that cat, Donghyuck could never stay at your place for longer than an hour), the heart-warming feeling of seeing him waiting for your after your class—to the warm, comfortable attachment stage, you feel like you know Donghyuck in a deeper sense now.

The small notebook he’d given you at the beginning of the term is halfway full, its pages messily scribbled with phrase and sentences you had learned—likewise the memories those words carry—and soon enough you find yourself more comfortable with the language, and eventually with Seoul. You find yourself enjoying, and not in a way that makes you think you’d want to visit again soon.

The journey with Seoul was initially a play to learn the language and its beautiful culture: a detour. A diversion from your plans. A stop while you figure out what you want in life. Your last year in university is supposed to be the year you finally decide what to do next. Visiting Seoul was an opportunity for you to really get to know yourself beyond your comfort zone, to really challenge your capabilities, to learn beyond what your hometown had in store for you.

But these days do not feel like Seoul is a place to visit.

In a way, liberating albeit frightening, you find yourself thinking that perhaps Seoul is a place to build a home in. The home is built from arms that hold you on days when it’s extra cold, your nose red and hands frozen, and its shelter is made from Donghyuck’s warm smile and the assurance of him being there for you. And right now, while you sit closely together at the back of your friend’s car, their obnoxiously loud voices singing to some pop song along the radio, you feel it: home.

Jeno likes the phone case you had customized for him, and he gives you a big, bear hug as soon as he take a peek of what’s inside your present.

“I love you. I literally love you with all my being,” he dramatically says as he squishes you.

“That’s my girlfriend, you idiot,” Donghyuck complains, pulling Jeno’s arms away from you. With the way you three are seated at the back of Renjun’s car, you sitting in between them, it’s uncomfortable and Donghyuck insists on taking part of the little moment you’re having with Jeno.

Jeno whines, “Let me love her. This is the best gift ever!”

Donghyuck ends up puffing air out of his mouth, pouting and leaning back so Jeno could hug you. You’re laughing and Jeno whispers how easily they could make him sulk these days because you’re around.

Mark, who’s sitting on the passenger seat beside Renjun, announces you’ve arrived at the amusement park, just as Jaemin’s car halts to a slow stop behind you.

It’s the first time you’ve ever visited the famous amusement park in Seoul, and Mark looks excited with the way he’s jumping as you line up for the tickets. Donghyuck has his arm around you, taking pictures with his other hand. The rest are chattering, talking about the rides they’d love to try.

The secretly group decides to stick together for the entire day to celebrate Jeno’s day, despite the birthday boy himself telling everyone they can go wherever they want to. You could see how much they really care about one another and they all just hide it in their mean, vile jokes. For example, the man who has his arm wrapped around you likes teasing Jeno like it’s his full-time job, but is hiding a birthday present inside the trunk of Renjun’s car (and would most likely give it before you all head home, act like his best friend’s birthday isn’t that much of a big deal).

Most of the day is spent following Jeno around, whatever ride he wanted to try and your ears ringing because of how loud Donghyuck is screaming. The temperature has gone from freezing cold to warm, the humidity making it a little harder for everybody to move around under the warmth of the sun.

“I never realized how much of a scaredy cat you are, Donghyuckie,” you tease as soon as you walk out of the roller coaster ride. “Not much of a tough guy now, huh?”

Donghyuck whines, “I liked you better when the words you spoke were only yes and no.”

Mark laughs, slapping Donghyuck on the back. “Oh man, that was really good.”

“Yeah?” You rebut. “And I liked you better when you weren’t screaming like a kid.”

Donghyuck smirks, “And I like you better when you’re screaming my name.”

Renjun and Jisung cough in disgust, and Mark just straight up slapped the back of Donghyuck’s head. “You two are disgusting. I can’t believe I live with you, Y/N.”

Donghyuck laughs, turning to you. “It’s pretty hot. Want me to go grab you a can of soda? Ice cold water?”

“Water, please,” you say. Donghyuck nods and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling Chenle with him and walking to the opposite side where a small shop is. In the meantime, the rest of you occupy the benches under a shade, Jeno asking which ride to go next.

Donghyuck and Chenle return in a matter of time, bottles of drinks in their hands. They give everyone their preferred drinks, Donghyuck sitting beside Mark and extending an arm so he could hand you your drink from his side.

“Fucking summer,” Donghyuck curses. “I hate summer.”

Renjun raises an eyebrow. “Suddenly?”

“It’s not even summer yet,” Jaemin points out. “What happened to you? You’ve always been so excited about summer.”

“It’s so hot. I can’t stand this fucking temperature,” Donghyuck mumbles.

Renjun scoffs. “You start planning our summer getaway as early as March.”

“It’s already April and you have nothing yet,” Jisung points out.

“Yeah, what the hell, man. I hate your ridiculous ideas, but we can’t survive summer without you,” Jeno adds, then looks at Mark. “Yo, Mark, what about you? What are you doing this summer?”

You and Mark freeze, looking at each other for a second, before the latter speaks for you both: “We’re, uh, we’re supposed to go home.”

It seems like Jeno didn’t know the weight of his question because he apologizes as soon as he realizes it. The group falls into silence, no one says anything, or perhaps nobody could think of anything to say, not even you or Mark.

With your days in Seoul numbered, you realize now that you haven’t really talked about it—not you and Mark, not you and Donghyuck—and it never really felt real. You had always told yourself you’ll cross the bridge when you get there, and the bridge is nearby.

Donghyuck clears his throat. “The sun’s going to kill me. I think I saw a burger joint that has an air-conditioning system down the corner of that street. Shall we go there?”

Everybody agrees and stand to leave. Donghyuck holds your hand, pulling you close and steals a kiss on your cheek. The gesture makes your heart flutter. Donghyuck is warm, but not in the way the sun is hot right now—in a way that gets you thinking: can this warmth reach Vancouver?

Your skin hurts when the sunlight hits you. You hate summer.

 오해 하지마 (ohae hajima) – Don’t misunderstand

Donghyuck had a face that looked like what an artist would draw in a whim—spontaneously—like it was done in a rush, like a portrait from a park done by a street artist, something done with a pencil. Ink stains are harder to wash off, and anyway, figments aren’t mean to last—and he’s almost unrecognizable in this light.

You can’t recognize him on the night of his birthday.

His Mother had gone above and beyond and invited all of their closest relatives and family friends for his 23rd birthday, and it’s also your first time meeting them.

It’s nerve-wracking to say the least, but his Mother smiles at you kindly when she greets you from the entrance of the restaurant they rented for the evening. You could tell his family was wealthy, and it makes sense because Donghyuck got the most bare minimum job he could find, and it’s most likely because he doesn’t need to get one; he probably only got one so he could talk about work, too, just like the rest of his friends.

The birthday party is a surprise and it was Renjun who connected with everyone to make sure they attend here tonight. You had to make up some excuse to Donghyuck when he asked why you can’t join him for dinner with his family tonight and had promised to make it up to him the day after.

You’re sat in the same table as Mark, Renjun, Jeno, and Jaemin, a bit far away from Donghyuck’s family’s table, as you wait for the birthday boy, your present sitting on top of the round table. Mark talks about his cat, letting Jaemin watch snippets of his pet from his phone, and Renjun is narrating a story about his “ridiculous and absurd encounter with Liu Yangyang (and you and Jeno can’t pass up the opportunity to tease him about it).

Then, someone comes sit beside Jaemin, the boys gasping when they see her.

Karina is beautiful, and even saying that isn’t enough to describe the woman’s beauty. Soft-spoken and brilliant, Karina naturally allows everyone to gravitate towards her. All, including yourself, are pulled like magnet when she arrived. Jeno introduces you and you allow yourself to throw a quick and inaudible “hello” when she reaches over and asks you how you are.

Donghyuck’s Mother almost screams when she sees Karina, excitement filling up the air as she hugs her and thanks her for attending.

“I wouldn’t miss Hyuckie’s birthday for the world, eommoni,” Karina answers, and before you could ask Renjun how she’s related to Donghyuck, Jisung, who’s seated in another table with Donghyuck’s younger siblings, announces that the birthday man himself has arrived.

Donghyuck enters the hall, surprised and happy when he sees everyone, a dramatic cry leaving his lips as everyone greets him happy birthday. He feigns complaint, whining that he’s no longer eight years old, but hugs his parents anyway.

His parents thank everyone for joining a precious day and celebrating their eldest son’s birthday with them. Donghyuck bows and starts to go around to thank people.

You don’t recognize Donghyuck when he finally reaches your table and he gives you small smile, hugging you quickly before moving on to the next person. You don’t recognize Donghyuck when he goes to Karina, lifting her as he hugs her tightly, and thanking her for being able to come. You don’t recognize Donghyuck when his Mother joins the little reunion and he laughs when his Mother jokes about them missing each other too much.

“She’s the one who left me all alone here in Seoul,” Donghyuck pouts. “We wouldn’t have missed each other this much if you had stayed!”

“Don’t be such a drama queen, Hyuckie,” Karina says, rolling her eyes. “You visited me in Tokyo literally six months ago.”

Six months ago, which means, it was right before you arrived in Seoul.

You want to be anywhere else but here, and you don’t want to listen any further, but the scenario runs like a comedy show and the punch line is you.

“You two better decide whatever the hell you want to do with your lives by the end of the year,” Donghyuck’s Mother comments. “I mean, no one’s stopping you from moving to Tokyo, Donghyuck. You and Karina can rekindle whatever light was burnt last year. I’m glad you stayed best of friends despite the long distance. You’ve always made a great couple.”

Your breath hitches like your lungs had just been punch. Donghyuck, it seems, finally remembers you’re watching this unfold. Mark holds you, and bless him because your legs feel like they’re about to give up. You and Donghyuck make eye contact, but you don’t recognize him at all.

“Eomma,” Donghyuck clears his throat. Everything else he’s said come out like a blur, and Mark is just holding you close.

“Don’t misunderstand,” Renjun whispers closely. “They’re just friends.”

You don’t recognize Donghyuck when he watches you leave.

천천히 말씀해 주세요 (chun-chun-hee mal-sseum-heh ju-seh-yo)  - Please speak slowly | 집 (jib) - home

Karina turns out to be the one that got away. The one true love. The greatest love. The childhood best friend who’s always been there. The leading woman. She turns out to be the protagonist in Donghyuck’s story.

You learn all of these from Renjun. Even when he refused to say a single word and had begged for you to talk to Donghyuck instead, you learn the truth by asking Mark to ask Renjun.

Donghyuck and Karina. Karina and Donghyuck. Two peas in a pod. A tight knit. Knowing each other like the back of their hands. A buy one, get one kind of deal. Where one is, the other would follow. And everyone and their moms know that it has always been like that, will always be like that.

Donghyuck and Karina, born on the same year, grew up in the same small village in Jeju island. Having been inseparable since, they ended up moving to Seoul together in high school. Donghyuck’s parents were supportive of Donghyuck pursuing a career in music, and they believed that moving to Seoul was the first step for their beloved son to find his spotlight. Karina’s parents, however, couldn’t afford moving alongside the Lee family despite wanting to support their daughter, too. Donghyuck begged his parents to have Karina move in with them so her parents would only worry about paying her tuition and allowances. The Lee family agreed, of course, because Donghyuck and Karina were fifteen, and they were the best team the world has ever known.

Karina is a talented dancer, and with a face like hers, it would be a shame to keep her in a small town in Jeju island. Her moving to Seoul had been the first step to her early success, because as soon as she reached puberty and had gained a butt and a pair of breasts, agencies were scouting her, creepily waiting for her outside of hers and Donghyuck’s high school. She’d declined, of course, with a promise to Donghyuck that they’d go to stardom together, but Donghyuck wanted to study and make music, and he felt as though he needed to go to college for that.

Karina eventually moved to another dormitory when she started training. Donghyuck moved downtown to start college. They were in different places, but they were still inseparable.

Pretty much every day Donghyuck would meet up with Karina when she started training; if not, then he’d be on Facetime with her during the hours when she’s not working. He had brought her to SNU many times, and they had started dating by the time Donghyuck is in his second year. All the other guys know Karina and her place in Donghyuck’s life. Somehow, a bitter part of you feels betrayed that none of them ever mentioned about Donghyuck’s great love, but you can’t really blame them for not saying anything.

They broke up on the latter months of last year because Karina had to move to Tokyo. There was no big fight apparently, just the decision that it’s most likely not going to work because—listen to this; this is the biggest punch line of this comedy show—Donghyuck can’t handle long distance.

You had answered one of Donghyuck’s calls by mistake. He’s mad for some reason, perhaps angry of the fact that you’re ignoring him and he doesn’t have much control like he normally does.

“Y/N, for fuck’s sake, why haven’t you answered?” he had cried out as soon as you answered.

“I was busy,” was all you could come up with. You brain had not been working good enough to translate things to Korean.

“What do you mean you were busy?” he had asked, voice loud and angry. “You literally disappeared on me! On my fucking birthday! And I’m done playing nice and cool because this is unfair. Whatever the fuck you’re doing is unfair you’re not letting me in. If you could just let me explain, things—”

“Please speak slowly.”

“—would be easier for the two of us. Whatever Karina and I had, it’s been over since last year. It’s over way before I met you. I never thought of her, not even for a goddamn second since we got together. I wouldn’t fucking betray you like that—”

“I can’t understand you.”

“—and I can’t believe you don’t trust me enough to let me at least tell you what happened! I never mentioned her because I never even thought about her! My Mother doesn’t know anything! I’ve wanted you to meet my Mother for a long time, but given our situation, a fucking time bomb ticking, I didn’t know if it was too early to go to that stage.”

“Time bomb?” you had asked, repeating the syllables slowly. “What’s that?”

Donghyuck sighed on the other line. “The thing that explodes at a predetermined time.”

“Oh, a time bomb,” you asked in English, chuckling. “That, we are.”

“Huh?”

“We’re a fucking time bomb,” you said, again in English, because if Donghyuck could keep talking in his mother tongue without considering if you’d understand a single word, so could you. “We’re ticking and we’re just waiting for this shit to explode. And I can’t wait and watch myself burn, Donghyuck. I can’t.”

“Please speak slowly,” he pleaded in Korean. You don’t.

“This isn’t going to work,” you responded, still in your mother tongue. “Maybe this is a clear sign for us, Donghyuck. Goodbye.”

Mark finds you crying on floor of your living, your back leaning on the feet of the couch, two weeks after Donghyuck’s birthday.

The first week, you had convinced your friends you were fine and that you just needed time. Donghyuck’s been reaching out to everybody, and Mark, being the best friend he is, lies regarding your whereabouts every time Donghyuck visits.

You don’t know how many calls Donghyuck had tried to make and how many text messages he’d left because you had completely abandoned your phone for the last couple of weeks and only relied on your computer to check any e-mails from your professors.

“I’m sorry,” Mark says, and you feel a rush of relief when he talks to you in English. You’ve had enough of Korean and Korean men these days. “It sucks, man. I don’t even know what to say. I’m so fucking disappointed with Donghyuck.”

“Shouldn’t you be more disappointed with me?” you sniffle. “I should have listened to you. We were moving too fast.”

Mark shakes his head, pulling you closer so that your head is resting on his shoulder. “I couldn’t blame you. Donghyuck’s charming, and I genuinely thought he was in love with you. I mean, I could say is, because I really think he’s sorry about everything.”

“We didn’t even get to properly break up,” you cry. “Our flight back home is in like, two weeks. I was supposed to talk to him and decide what we’d do with our relationship. For his birthday, I made a stupid mixtape that he could keep in his car and a very expensive and fucking cheesy set of touch lamps I found online for whenever he would miss me. And I keep making stupid letters like a fucking idiot so I could leave him with a bunch of poorly constructed letters just so he knows how much I’ll fucking miss him.”

Mark stays silent as you sob your heart out.

“And can you believe I actually thought it’d work?” you say, exasperated. “I’m so fucking sorry to myself. I’m just glad it’s over before I did shit I’d regret later on.””

“Shit like?” Mark asks.

You sigh, sniffling and screaming internally because the tears would stop. “I was already looking into internships here. For my last semester in college. I had already decided to decline the internship they were offering back home—thank God I haven’t sent that e-mail from my drafts—and I’ve found really good companies here. And if I’m lucky, I was thinking of moving here after college.”

Mark clicks his tongue. “All because of Donghyuck?”

“Because he feels like home, Mark,” you reason out. “He’s warm, and I can’t believe I’m admitting this now, but I love him. I love him so fucking much.”

“Oh, Y/N.”

“And we would have been happy. I would’ve done everything I could,” you confess. “And this fucking language barrier will be the death of me, but I would’ve learned more. I’d be an expert by the end of the year. And now, this whole Karina thing made me realize how much more I need to know about him.”

Mark holds you closer as though holding you would make things better. “When we were kids,” he starts. “Whenever I told you stories about how much I miss all the people I had to leave behind whenever we had to move from one country to another, one state to another, you’d always tell me to never build houses out of people.”

You remember. You always admired how Mark could move from one place to another, his suitcase and the ghost of the friendships he made following his trail, and he’s always told you about the loneliness it comes with.

“You used to tell me shelters aren’t supposed to be made of arms wrapped around you on a cold night, or hands that hold you when you’re feeling lonely,” he continues. “And I can’t blame you, because humans are known not to follow their own advice. But I hope you find home in things you’d never lose.”

You nod. “I’m sorry for breaking rule number three.”

“You’ll get over him,” he assures. “If you decide to really end things here, I mean. I’m sure you can get over him. It’s easier to get over people when you don’t see him.”

You nod, “Let’s go home, Mark.”

“Back home?”

You smile. “Yes. Back home.”

갈망 (galmang) - longing

It’s Giselle who picks you up from the airport.

You reunite like old friends, but Giselle really didn’t change that much. Even the weather didn’t change much. The same old. You wish you could say the same to yourself.

The flight to Vancouver was the most painful ten hours of your life, both literally and figuratively. It was hard watching your friends bid you goodbye, and you could tell they were dreading your departure as much as you and Mark were. Mark assures them you and him would save up to visit them again this year and as much as you’d wanted to stay, your student visa would allow you only six months. Mark promises he’d work on a tourist visa or whatever because despite being 100% ethnically Korean, but legally, he can’t just visit whenever he wants.

The pain from your breakup with Donghyuck is nothing compared to seeing Mark leave his friends again. You know how much they mean to him, and by extension, how much they mean to you regardless of what happened before your departure.

The head of student exchange program sends you warm greetings through text, followed by a series of messages from your friends and family. You’re glad Giselle had decided to pick you up from the airport, because you don’t think you’re in a good state to pretend like you’re okay, and Giselle knows.

Of course, she knows.

Giselle’s been your anchor during your last weeks in Seoul. Mark reckons that if anyone would understand you best during this time, it would be Giselle. After all, she’d gone through the same thing.

Like Mark, Giselle moved to Seoul with her parents for a few years. She had a similar experience with Mark, considering that her parents are constantly moving around—from Japan to South Korea then to Vancouver. Giselle was only in Seoul for two years before her parents moved back to Vancouver again, and in between those years she had met Kevin Moon, the love of her life.

They have been dating for almost four years now, two of those years, they dated long distance.

“How’d you make it work?” you had asked Giselle over Facetime once.

“It wasn’t perfect,” she admitted. “We broke up a couple of time because it was really difficult. And neither of us were willing to move for each other. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Kevin and I, we love each other. Truly we do. But I wouldn’t want to plant my entire life in Seoul for him. In the same manner, I don’t want him to move from Seoul to Vancouver for me when we both know for a fact that he’d be more successful in Korea than here. I guess, I don’t know, I don’t have an advice I could give you.”

“I’m not asking for advice,” you denied. “I mean. Donghyuck and I have only been dating for like, two weeks. I wouldn’t think that far at this time.”

Giselle had laughed at the other end of the line. “Let me tell you one thing, though.”

“Mhm.”

“It’s all a matter of choice,” she had said slowly, like she wanted to imprint the words to your brain. “Your heart isn’t made of diamonds. Your lungs aren’t made of steel. Somehow, inevitably, you’d grow tired—tired of timezones and how you never get the timing right, tired of not having someone to hug when you need it, tired of having to compromise—and it’s not an easy game.”

Giselle was smiling when she’d said the rest: “But Kevin is so worth it. I’ll grow tired of the baggage long distance comes with, but I don’t think I could live without him, you know? And it’s exaggerated, I know, and neither of us know what the future holds, but we’re choosing us. We chose to stay.”

It would have been beautiful, you think, if things worked out between you and Donghyuck. You would have written poems and prose in places about how you chose to stay. You would have learned about time zones and the best time to call, could have learned how to purchase the cheapest flight tickets to see each other, would have learned love and compromise together.

But you’re here, back in Vancouver, the voices of Mark and Giselle all blurred out from the backseat, and all you could think of is how much you miss Donghyuck.

예기치 않은 (yegichi anh-eun) - unexpected

The head of the student exchange program asks you to write an article about your experience in Seoul and gives you until the fall semester begins, just in time for the university’s own publishing house to produce this year’s school paper. You’re stuck at two hundred words and a stupid title Mark came up with: “Learning Languages”—and you’re thinking about withdrawing from that spot in the newspaper but Mark keeps calling you a heartbroken loser and you’re not about to let Mark Lee get the last word.

You’re eating cereal and watching an episode of Suits to prepare to write again (yes, a 30-minute preparation time is needed for such task) when someone knocks at your door.

You know how, in movies, the main character would see things in slow motion as soon as the love of their life enters the scene? That’s exactly what happens when you open the door and find Lee Donghyuck standing outside your dorm room, a too-large for his body backpack on one shoulder and his heart upon his sleeve.

미안해 (mianhae) – I’m sorry | 사랑해 (saranghae) – I love you

“I’m sorry,” are the first words that Lee Donghyuck comes up with, and truthfully are the words you needed to hear from him. He says it in his mother tongue and you feel his heart in his voice.

“Mark?” you ask, knowing full well it’s Mark who helped him.

“Yes but no,” he answers. “He said he’d only give me your address but he’s not picking me up or helping me. My flight landed literally six hours ago and I’ve been looking for you since.”

Donghyuck sits across you on the small table you own inside your small room. His backpack is sitting on his feet and his shoulders are slumped. Donghyuck allows himself to look small compared to all the times you were with him.

“Y-you look good,” he comments, eyes glued on you. “I’m glad you’re healthy, at least.”

“You, too,” you mumble. “Tea? Coffee?”

“Water would be fine, please and thank you.” You reach over to hand him a bottle. “And who are you kidding? I look awful.”

He does. He looks exactly what he said he had done to get here. Look for you for six hours after a ten-hour flight from Incheon. Donghyuck downs the bottle of water. Poor guy probably hasn’t eaten.

“Why are you here, Donghyuck?” you ask as soon as he’s done drinking.

Donghyuck clears his throat. “I don’t really know what I want out of this trip.”

You keep your arms crossed over your chest.

“And I’m not about to beg you to take me back,” he continues. “I just wanted to explain. I just want you to know what happened. I can live without you, but I can’t live with you thinking I had betrayed you.”

“Donghyuck, there’s really no need to explain. Renjun has told Mark all I needed to know.”

“No, let me say it please. I spent a fortune to come here, and I’m going to make you listen if it’s the last thing I’d do. After this, I’ll leave. I have a ticket back home tomorrow, and I’ll leave.”

Ridiculous. Who would spend a fortune on a set of roundtrip tickets only to leave a day after? Of course, only Lee Donghyuck.

“Karina and I go way back,” he says. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. And she’s not someone I could just get rid of just because our relationship didn’t work out. We’re better off as friends, and that’s a fact we had come to learn when we tried dating. And it was painful, but I couldn’t lose her just because we didn’t know how to date, how to play boyfriend and girlfriend to each other. That’s the first thing I need you to understand.”

“Like I don’t know that already?” you remark sarcastically.

“Karina is a part of me.” Shit’s painful.

“But now like how you are a part of me.”

Oh.

“She’s my best friend, almost like a sister now, and my parents care about her,” he continues. “It was a mistake that we even tried to date just so we could relate to everyone dating everybody. It almost ruined us, and Karina and I, we can’t afford to lose each other just because of that. The person who I am now, part of it is because of Karina. But Y/N, the person I’m about to become, I want it to be because of you.”

He clears his throat again. You look at the bottle of water he finished drinking because you really can’t look at Donghyuck now. Not when he’s vulnerable and out in the open. Not when he’s exactly the way he was when you fell in love with him.

“And I had plans. For the long run,” he says like a promise. “I had started looking up how to get a tourist visa to Canada and how to get you a tourist visa to Korea. I’ve been saving all my allowances and the money I’ve been earning from work so I could book a ticket to Vancouver for the summer and spend it with you. And I was supposed to tell Mom, but I haven’t had the chance yet—that one I have no excuse for. But the timing was off and she met you before I could tell her. She had no idea and she’s genuinely sorry she made it seem like she wanted me to end up with Karina. If she had known I was already in love with someone else, she wouldn’t have said that in front of you. She would have loved you.”

Donghyuck pauses. You look up to see him wiping his tears from his cheeks. “And I’m sorry that the timing didn’t go well for us, but I promise you I had plans. I just didn’t want to spend the rest of your weeks in Seoul thinking about you being gone as soon as the semester is over. I wanted to seize the moments with you and make you—I wanted to make you feel that I love you.”

Your breath hitches. Donghyuck locks eyes with you.

“I love you. I love you and I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t,” he confesses, bursting into tears and you do, too. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t try hard enough to make you stay. I’m so sorry that I talked to fast that time I finally got you to answer my call; I should’ve explained more calmly. I’m so sorry that we’re here, in Vancouver, hearts broken. But I love you, and I wish I could say all of these in English if that’s what would make you believe it’s real and it’s true.”

But he doesn’t have to.

“I love you,” you say in your mother tongue before switching to Korean. “I love you. And I know you love me. And I’m so sorry for jumping to conclusions and not trying hard enough. Just like you, I had plans to. For the long run. And I can live without you, too, but I can’t live without you knowing how much I love you.”

Donghyuck giggles through his tears and reaches out both hands to wipe off yours. “Let’s not live without each other.”

It’s him to moves, standing a little, so he could kiss you.

The kiss says everything the language barrier can’t. I love you. I missed you. I’m sorry. This is everything I’ve ever wanted. You are everything I’ve ever wanted.

Donghyuck spends the night tracing your body with his mouth like he’s writing a love song and he needs to taste you first before he could write the first melody. You spend the night underneath Donghyuck’s love, whispering his name like praise, taking, taking, taking everything he’s giving you.

You wake up to arms around you and the love of your life kissing the back of your neck. You and him spend the entire day (or at least, the seven hours he had until he had to take the flight back home) talking about your plans and making a list of thing you have to talk about over the phone, but today, you’re taking him out on a date under the warm, sunny skies of Vancouver.

And you do. You and Donghyuck have the best day ever together. Donghyuck gives you the other pair of the touch lamp you’d given to him as a birthday present—you’d forgotten you left it when you ran off; you were supposed to watch him open it so you could show him how it works—and makes you promise to touch the lamp whenever you missed him. He thanks you for the mixtape and confesses he cries whenever he plays it inside his car. He also gives you your small notebook of learning languages back (because you had dramatically left it to Renjun before you boarded the plane), saying you’d need it again.

Mark refused to come because he wants you and Donghyuck to talk and spend the day creating a game plan to make your relationship work. At the end of the hours you had with him, you don’t come up with a solid game plan.

Because Giselle was right, after all, it all comes down to the choices you make. There was no formula on how a long-distance relationship would work. Neither you nor Donghyuck had survived one, but you knew one thing:

Today, you and Donghyuck choose each other.

It’s only the beginning, it seems.

The sun is out and bright when Donghyuck boards the plane.

It’s a lot warmer than the rest of the year, but you don’t really mind.

[abbyromanoff]

Hey i have some request :))

Yn is taking care of drunk lizzie :))

DRUNK IN LOVE

PAIRINGS: Elizabeth Olsen x reader

WORD COUNT: 1,120

WARNINGS: mentions of drinking, mentions of sex and pregnancy, kinda suggestive but no actual smut, R taking care of Lizzie, Liz being drunk, breast worshipping, lactation (kinda?), pretty used like a billion times, think that’s abt it :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

“C’mon, baby, ‘m not drunk.” Your wife falsely claimed, her eyes heavy and her breath reeking of alcohol. Her smile was full and giggly, and you rolled your eyes teasingly before continuing to guide her into the house.

“Mm, where you takin’ me, sweetheart?” You noticed it became a regular for her petnames to repeat when she was so out of it, and you felt a small red tint coming to your cheeks.

“I’m taking you to our room so we can get you ready for bed.” You replied, causing a smirk to instantly cover her lips.

“I mean, ‘m a little sleepy, but I wouldn’t mind sleeping with you.” She laughed, her head falling onto your shoulder as it bumped with every step. She bit her lip as she waited for you to chuckle in return, and when you finally did, she felt a sense of pride fill her.

“You..look s’good tonight, baby.” You hummed, placing your hand on her back to help her uneven steps.

“That shirt looks so,” She dragged out. “Good on you, I could just eat’ you up.” You gave her a suspicious glance before opening the door to your room, letting her take one step in before you were back onto her holding her by the waist.

“Mhm, we should do this more often, I like how you feel.”

“Yeah, no. I’m not letting you get this drunk again, and if you do I better go with you.”

“You’ the one who decided not to go with me.” She frowned. But it was true, you had stated you weren’t feeling all the best and wished to stay home. While she supported your decision and even wished to stay with you, it was a public event she had to attend. Fans and interviewers were skeptical about your disappearance, but she brushed it off with the truth before downing shots with many of her friends, all of which was photographed by paparazzi.

“Well, I am so very sorry that I’ve been puking all week and I do not feel like doubling that with alcohol.”

“Maybe you’re pregnant.” She guessed, sitting on the edge of the bed as you stepped into the walk-in bathroom for a cloth to remove her makeup. You nearly choked on nothing when she spoke.

“Let’s hope not.” You began wiping her skin, but she pulled back at your comment.

“You don’ want my babies?” You sighed with a hint of laughter before you set both hands on the sides of her cheeks. You pulled her in close, leaving a kiss to her lips before muttering.

“I would love to have your babies, but we’ve been together for eight months and I don’t think we’re exactly ready yet.” You pecked the brim of her nose and leaned back, continuing your actions before helping her remove her dress.

“I want you to be pregnant already.” She stated after a moment of silence. You hummed with a small grin, focused on the zipper on the back of her clothes.

“You’d be so pretty pregnant. Not that you’re not pretty right now, cause you’re really pretty right now, like, really pretty. But you’d be even prettier pregnant, and your stomach would get so big and your tata’s would too.”

“Did you just call my breasts ‘tata’s’?” She nodded with an exaggerated laugh, nearly falling over until you held her close by the arms.

“I love your breasts, they’re so pretty.”

“You call me pretty a lot,”

“You don’ like it?”

“Oh, I love it, baby. But I think you’re a little too drunk to be thinking about me pregnant, next thing you know I’ll actually be pregnant if you keep talking.” She now sat naked on the bed as you went through the closet to pick her pajamas for the night. She noticed the set you had on and that it was a matching pair with hers, and she quickly insisted you gave her that one. You agreed, helping her into the outfit before guiding her to the bathroom.

“Alright, last step is brushing those teeth.” She watched intently as you began the steps needed, and she made a face of disgust as she tasted the mouthwash.

“Don't swallow it,”

“I thought I told you to always swallow?” She quickly spit out the liquid to allow herself to make the dirty comment, and you bit your lip to stop the laugh that threatened to escape.

“I made you laugh!”

“You always make me laugh, Liz.” You dragged her back into the bedroom where you let her sit on the bed and begin cuddling herself under the blankets. You went to grab a glass of water and promised to be fast, coming back to the sight of Lizzie half asleep and small snores coming from her mouth. You placed the drink on her bedside table and got under the covers, letting her cuddle up to you instinctively. She rested her head on your chest, nuzzling her face against your breasts. Most of her body was on top of you by now, and you gave up on ever pleading with her to give you room when it came to sleep.

“Mm, take it off.” You unbuttoned the shirt she tugged on and smiled at her large expression. She pressed a kiss to your chest before sliding over a few and doing the same to your nipple. You sighed and ran your fingers through her soft hair. She looked up at you for permission before moving to the other, a small line of spit following her. She spent a few moments longer as she sucked soothingly, the action aiding her further into sleep. She left one last kiss to both of your breasts before your lips received the same.

“Pretty titties, I love ‘em.” You only shook your head and allowed her to attach herself back to your soft flesh.

“My pretty girl,” You exaggerated the compliment and earned a small giggle that was followed with a large blush adorning her cheeks.

“You prettier, baby.”

“How about we’re both very, very pretty, yeah? Will that make you happy?” She nodded and silence fell upon you two. You almost believed she was finally asleep as your body was close to following suit, that was until her voice came in a hushed whisper once again.

“You’re still..still prettier.” You decided it was best not to fight with her and agreed before hearing soft breaths coming from her mouth. You admired her sleepy form as you felt her open mouth slowly drooling onto you. You took a quick photo to show her the next morning before placing your arm around her back and shutting your eyes with a grateful smile.

[tsukimara]

hii! Can i request a death the kid × fem!reader please? I would love for it to be like one of them is really sleepy and the other cuddles with them to help them sleep? And reader is also really touch-deprived!

(I would also really like if the cuddling position was like hugging the other at the waist while laying down and like the other person is playing with the other's hair?) BUT ITS YOUR CHOICE

જ⁀➴ Sleepy cuddles

✰ Pairing: Death The Kid x fem!Touch-deprived!reader

✰ Summary: Reader is sleepy so Kid helps her fall asleep.

✰ Warning: None!

✰ Of course dear! I suspect you guys like DTK very VERY much (We love him 🫶) I'M SORRY IF THIS IS TOO SHORT.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

I heard another tired yawn next to me and of course it was my girlfriend who was studying instead of sleeping at night. Staying up late was actually a habit of hers that constantly worried me. Whether it was studying, playing games or other things, she did it all late. I have to change it somehow, luckily she stayed overnight because Patty literally dragged her here. [Name] had her head resting on her hand, slightly dozing off as Liz painted her nails and Patty did her hair.

"Whaaa Liz! You painted her nails beautifully!!" Patty exclaimed as she looked at [Name] nails which were black with white stars and a skull. "Right? And you too-" Liz looked at how messy Patty had made her hair, she had clips and tied hair everywhere. She was too sleepy to say anything so she let Patty continue. I didn't want her to be tortured like that so I got up from the chair and walked over to girls.

"Guys, I think [Name] should go to sleep now." Patty started to pout a little because she hadn't finished doing [Name]'s hair, but Liz placed her hand over her mouth, silencing her. "Come on Patty, let's go, lovers here prefer to be left alone." Liz quickly ran out with Patty before I said anything. Suddenly I felt someone hug me from behind and wrap their arms around me, causing a little pink to appear on my cheeks, knowing it was [Name]. I turned carefully to face her, she still had that terribly unsymmetrical hairstyle, so I took it all out of her hair while she just hugged me, burying her face in the crook of my neck. I was more used to the fact that she was so touchy, which didn't bother me at all. It was a cute sight.

"Let's go put you to bed. You look like Sid-sensei." She just said a quiet "hey" as she stopped hugging me and took my hand to walk towards my room.

We entered my clean room and climbed into my bed together. Luckily we had already changed earlier so we didn't have to worry about that now. [Name] immediately moved towards me and hugged me, putting her head on my chest and she wrapped her arms around my waist. I smiled, placing one hand on her back and the other hand on her head, stroking her hair to help her fall asleep faster.

"Goodnight sleepyhead." I kissed her head and closed my eyes to fall asleep with her.

➥ Soul Eater Masterlist ➥ Masterlist

➥ Rules request

[yujinnieswifeu]

can you do one where the reader feels like they have lost their sex appeal and asks a friend for help to understand the situation? (Here my inspo and can you do a g!p too plz)

Pairings: sub!fem reader x g!p dom!wonyoung

Warnings: smut, g!p wonyoung (wonyoung has a dick)

a/n: hi anon! Just wanna say thanks for the inspo, i really like it when people request a plot which you did, and also i rlly hope you enjoy this cause i sure did when i wrote🥹. U didn’t request any specific idol so i just went w wony to complete ot5 and also cause i feel she would fit this inspo the best! (Btw, i recognise the fanart hehe, should i write for genshin too? 🤭)

It has been weeks since you and Wonyoung did that. Every time you try to initiate it, she would decline it, telling you she wants to go to sleep or that she was tired. It has you overthinking, what if she doesn’t like you in that way anymore? Are you just not attractive to her? So many thoughts whirl in your mind and you really needed to let it out. So who else than your bestie? Surely she can help you with this situation right?

。。。(it means time skip)

“I..I don’t know how to tell you this.” You say, feeling embarrass even thinking about the situation you were going through now, your cheeks feeling hot at the thought of telling something so personal to your best friend. But she was the only one who you could rely on whenever you had troubles. “y/nnnn, you better tell me now.” She dragged her words, rolling her eyes in slight annoyance. You had been this way for the past 30 minutes, and Rei was starting to get frustrated she was not able to get it out from you.

“Fine! Ugh, ithinkilostmysexappeal!” The words comes out quickly, the pout on your face as you look at the floor instead, suddenly finding that to be more interesting. The sudden sound of laughter floods the café instead, your head immediately shoots up, looking at Rei who was now laughing. You looked around, seeing some people stare your way and you glared at her. “Keep it down!” You whispered and she wiped the tears that escaped from laughing so much. “I-i’m sorry, i just can’t believe you just said that.” She said, now more calmly as you sighed frustratingly.

“Wony has been ignoring my advances when i try to initiate.” You say truthfully, your brows furrow in thought, your expression showing how worried you were that Rei becomes serious. “And what does she say?” She frowns, her fingers wrapping around the straw as she stirs her drink, taking a sip of it. “She just tells me she does not feel like it, sometimes she says it’s because she’s tired. I’m worried Rei.” You looked at the table as you let out your emotions, and Rei pouts as she stares at you.

“Maybe she’s just tired like she says? Honestly, i know Wonyoung could never stop loving you with how she keeps talking about you.” You looked up at her, tilting your head. “How do you know that?” You were surprised, Rei has never told you stuff concerning your girlfriend before, so it came off as surprising for you. That was until you could see the slight tint of red on her cheeks, a smirk appearing on your face instead. “Rei…don’t tell me…it’s Liz isn’t it?” You squealed, and it wad Rei’s turn to look at the floor, covering her face.

“Aha, i knew it!” You say rather too loud, attracting some eyes at your table once again, and you mutter a sorry in their direction, looking at your friend who only groans. “Yes but i can’t help it when she looks like a teddy bear most of the time!” It was your turn to laugh, but not as loud this time, with Rei quickly bringing you back to the topic at hand. “Anyways, i think you don’t need to worry so much y/n yah, maybe you just need to..up your game?” She raises her brows in a playful manner, which makes you giggle a little. “You mean…dress something that makes her want to do that with me?” She nods her head, and you give it a thought.

Dress something..what always makes Wonyoung go crazy? Your mind reeled with different images of you, and you were sure your face was red. Rei was giggling at your face, taking pictures from her phone as you groaned, trying to snatch her phone from her.

。。。

You were nervous, your heart was racing every millisecond at this point, you looked at yourself one last time in the mirror, the headband rested on your head was one with bunny ears, and you had wore a lingerie with her favourite colour red. When Rei told you earlier to wear something that would make her go crazy, you immediately thought of this since you had wore something similar before and it had made her go feral. You just hoped the outfit you had on would make her go as feral as that time.

Soon you could hear the sounds of keys jangling, the door opening, and her voice ringing throughout the house.

“Baby i’m home!” She had said, and instead of replying or your usual, where you would greet her with a hug, you immediately jumped on the bed, sprawling yourself out instead to look sexy for her. “Babes?” Her voice echos again, and you could hear the door to your shared bedroom open, your heart was racing as she opens the door fully, her eyes immediately on yours as she froze there on the spot. Her eyes were boring holes into your skin, it made you feel naked, the electric feeling running through you. “Welcome home Wony..h-how do you like my outfit? I dressed up for you since you haven’t been giving my body attention a-and though-” She stops your rambling instead by kissing you with hunger, her hands lost in your hair as she slides them down your back, feeling your skin on her fingers as you melted into her, moaning against her lips.

She pulled away, her eyes now a darker shade of brown, as she bit her bottom lip. “My bunny wants attention that bad huh?” There was that nickname, you only whimper at her words, her hand slides up to play at your headband, stroking the ears as her eyes stayed glue to yours. “Fuck..you make me so hard y/n..” She whispers against your ears, her tongue probes out, flicking against your earlobe as she grinds herself against you, making you feel how hard she was and you gasp, your fingers around her back pulling her closer to you. “Y-you feel that bunny?” Panting, she pulls away, giving you a show as she undo her blouse and unclasps her bra quickly, the bra falling off as she throws it somewhere across the room, leaving the blouse on as she knew what it does to you.

Moving next to you, she pats her lap and you get the message, your thighs over hers as you watch her undo her belt. The bulge was already obvious, poking at her pants wanting to be freed of its confinements. It only makes you squirm on her lap, watching her as she finally pulls down her pants, helping her to get rid of it fully as you throw it at the edge of the bed. You stared at her covered bulge again, a damp spot evident on her panties. It makes you bite your lips, and you hear her clicking her tongue. “Eyes up here bunny.” The nickname rolls over her lips, making you whimper again as you look up into her eyes, feeling like a prey as she stares into yours like a predator. “I want to see you bounce on me bunny, you’re good at that aren’t you? You’re a bunny after all” She cocks her head to one side, and you nod your head desperately. The feeling between your legs was uncomfortable at this point, just aching to be filled with her cock.

You feel her pressing her fingers over your clothed area, the pressure on your clit makes you move your hips, moaning softly for her. She bites her lips, watching you as you masturbate on her fingers, it only makes her harder. She stills your hips with her other hand, sliding your panties to one side, looking down at how wet you are, it almost makes her moan. “Fuck…you’re such a fucking tease huh bunny? Wearing my favourite colour on you..and those bunny ears, you know what it does to me.” She groans, feeling her squeeze at your hip where her hand stayed, before feeling her pull your body closer to her, reaching to take her cock, stroking it and slapping it over your clit.

You gasp, your hands gripping her shoulders as she continues to slap her tip over your clit, making it red and puffy just how she likes it. “So pretty for me, i love you like this bunny..now show me how you bounce on my cock.” She orders, making you whine out. Your hand goes to your panties, wanting to take them off before feeling her hands stop you. “Don’t. I want it on bunny.” She warns, her eyes glaring into yours to not talk back which makes you gulp instead, feeling her guide her tip over your sopping hole. Your eyes rolls to the back when you feel her tip past your hole, the feeling only makes you moan loudly, gripping at her shoulders.

She pulls you down slowly over her cock, letting you adjust to her size before she was fully inside of you. The feeling only makes you whimper, as you start to bounce on her cock. She groans as she watches you move up and down on her cock, her hands goes to your ass, giving them a small squeeze before spreading your asscheeks apart, stretching your hole. It only makes it easier for you to move all the way, the added sensation causes your body to tremble slightly, a shiver running down your spine as you continue to milk her dry.

“W-what a good bunny.” She praises you, pressing her lips on yours as you both make out messily, her tongue slides across your bottom lip asking for access and you part your lips, the feeling of her tongue around yours makes you moan softly, still bouncing on her cock. You could feel her fingers running up your spine, making you shiver as she goes to unclasp your bra.

Pulling away from the kiss, she watches you as you continue to masturbate yourself over her cock, the feeling of your walls wrapping around her makes her moan softly, her hand goes over to your breasts as they shake with each bounce, stimulating them. She could feel your walls tightening around her, making her head tilt to the back as she lets out a throaty moan. “S-so fucking tight bunny.” She groans out, before gripping on your hips, guiding you over her cock.

You could feel your stomach coil, the need to come washes over you “I-i need to cum please Wony?” You struggle to say, and she holds your hip in place, driving her cock in and out of your pussy instead. You cry out, head lost in her neck as she moves her hips even faster, fucking you roughly, making your eyes roll. “I-i’m going to breed this pussy full of my bunnies, o-oh fuck fuck fuck, cum with me bunny!” Her words only sends you over the edge as you cum all over her cock, your eyes rolls back as you see white, crying out her name as your walls closes around her, feeling her seeds paint your insides white.

She pants softly, your head nestled in her neck as you both take some time to come down from your shared orgasms. “Wow.” She wearily says, her fingers drawing lazy circles on your back. You look up at her, and she smiles down at you. “Finally back to earth?” She teases, and you roll your eyes playfully. “Well no, i’m still in heaven.” You reply, a smile forming on your face and you could see her cheeks turn slightly red. It was like a whole different demeanour from when she fucked you, but you liked it either way.

“You going to tell me why you dressed up as a bunny now?” She changes the topic, and it makes you bite your bottom lip nervously. “I just…just thought that i lost my sex appeal.” You tell her truthfully, and her brows furrows in thought, thinking back on how she has been the past few days, the realisation hits her and she sighs. “Baby, look at me.” She says, making you look up into her eyes and she cups your cheeks in her palms. “I’m sorry, i didn’t notice i was neglecting my poor bunny, but i swear i still love you okay? I’ve just been really busy with work and just want to sleep each time i hit the bed.” She pouts, her eyes now looking sad as she stares at your face. You gave her a comforting smile instead, before pressing your lips on hers once more.

“And i’m sorry i did not communicate this with you sooner, it was wrong of me too.” She giggles, her infamous grin appearing on her face instead. “Well, i quite like this one though, you looked so hot in that bunny outfit.” She bites her bottom lip, and you only hide your face against her neck, whining for her to stop teasing you. Giggling, she pulls your face to hers, pecking your lips. “I love you my bunny.” She says, her forehead against yours. “I love you too Wony. And we should wash up now.” You were about to pull away before she pulls you back into her embrace.

“No, let’s stay in this position for a while, i like being inside of you my bunny.” She teases, and you knew you had a long night ahead of you.

[mccall-muffin]

The Lady and the Major - Part 1/3 // John "Bucky" Egan x OC

Summary: Major Bucky Egan is on leave in London, and what else is there to do than to drink, sing, have a good time, and... of course, ladies. But then he meets Liz, a Lady of the Court, and Bucky is immediately entangled in her net.

Warnings: Language, teasing, use of alcohol - soldiers being soldiers

A/N: Okay, wow... I thought today: "Uh, I have an idea for a OneShot with Bucky Egan," and now I'm sitting here with a three-part story. Jeeeeeez... Uh, but what you gonna do. (I've only seen the first two Episodes of MotA as of now, but... I just love Callum)

Here is my Masterlist

Tags: @liebgotts-lovergirl, @softly-writes, @mads-weasley, @brassknucklespeirs, @softguarnere

(Sorry mates, you just have to be tagged ;))

The Ritz, London, 1943

The opulent bar of the Ritz in London, brimming with the raucous laughter and chatter of soldiers on leave. The air is thick with smoke, jazz music fills the background, and the atmosphere is charged with the night's excitement.

Major John "Bucky" Egan, surrounded by a rowdy group of fellow American soldiers, is the life of the party. His laughter is loudest, his stories the most captivating, and his gaze roams freely, appreciative of the scenery—particularly the women who add a touch of glamour to the smoky room.

Bucky, with a glass of whiskey in hand, leans back, surveying the room with a smug grin. "Gentlemen," he boasts, "London's no match for a Yank with charm. Watch and learn."

His eyes, however, catch a sight that stops him mid-sentence—a vision of elegance seated across the bar. Lady Elizabeth Cavendish, unbeknownst to him, sits alone, her posture the epitome of grace, a long, slender cigarette holder elegantly poised in her hand. The soft glow of the bar lights catches her blonde hair and the sparkle in her blue eyes, making her seem almost ethereal.

Bucky's usual confidence wavers for a moment, his friends noticing the sudden change. "Well, I'll be damned... Who's that?" Bucky mutters, more to himself than anyone else.

One of the British soldiers, a man who has seen his fair share of high society, leans over, a knowing look in his eyes. "That, Yank, is Lady Elizabeth Cavendish. The Duke of Wellington's daughter. I'd tread carefully if I were you. She's out of your league."

Bucky's grin returns, cockier than before. "Out of my league? Buddy, there's no league I can't play in. Watch me."

With a swagger in his step, Bucky makes his way over to Elizabeth, his comrades watching eagerly, some with admiration, others with skepticism, and some with knowing faces.

"Evening, miss. Can I say you light up this room brighter than the London Blitz," he says cockily, letting his charm play.

Elizabeth doesn't even glance up from her drink at first, taking a slow drag from her cigarette. When she finally turns her gaze towards him, it's with an air of amusement. "And can I say that's the most American pickup line I've ever heard?"

Bucky, undeterred, flashes a grin. "Major John Egan, at your service. But for you... You can call me Bucky. And you are?"

Elizabeth finally offers him a small, knowing smile. "Elizabeth Cavendish. And I'm quite aware of who you are, Major Egan. Your reputation precedes you."

Bucky, leaning against the bar closer to Liz, his confidence seemingly unshaken. "Is that so? And what have you heard?"

Liz, taking another slow drag from her cigarette, eyes Bucky with a mixture of interest and challenge. "Oh, just that you're quite the charmer. A real ladies' man. Or so you believe."

The air between them crackles with a mix of tension and intrigue. Bucky, for once, finds himself having to work to maintain his usual smug demeanor. "And what about you, Lady Elizabeth? Do you enjoy games?"

Liz's smile widens, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, Major, I don't just enjoy them. I excel at them. Care to play?"

The challenge hangs in the air, a silent dare that Bucky, despite the warnings and his better judgment, finds himself unable to resist. "You're on. Let the games begin."

As Bucky signals the bartender for another round of drinks, his fellow soldiers exchange glances, some shaking their heads, others betting amongst themselves on the outcome. What none of them realize is that in the game of seduction and wit, Liz is a master strategist, and Bucky might have just met his match.

Bucky leans closer, his confidence unwavering. "So, Liz, you don't mind me calling you Liz, right?" he starts, the smug smile never leaving his face, "I've flown some of the most dangerous missions over Germany, you know. But I must say, navigating this conversation with you feels like my most thrilling challenge yet."

Liz lets out a soft, amused laugh. "Major Egan, I've met many men who believe their war stories could sweep a girl off her feet. And maybe it actually does some. But it's going to take more than tales of aerial feats to impress me," she replies, her voice laced with a teasing sarcasm that only someone of her breeding and wit could perfect.

The night progresses, and with each drink, Bucky becomes more audacious, his hand finding its way to the small of Liz's back, a bold move that, in any other circumstance, would have guaranteed success. Liz, however, is not any woman he's encountered before. She plays along, leaning in as if captivated by his charm, her lips tantalizingly close to his, only to pull away at the last moment, leaving him wanting more.

Their conversation ebbs and flows, with Bucky regaling her with his exploits, each tale more daring than the last. Yet, Liz remains unimpressed, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement rather than awe. It's a dance they're both familiar with, but in this instance, Liz leads, her every move calculated to keep him on his toes.

As the night wears on, Liz finishes her drink, placing the glass delicately on the bar. She rises from her stool, the movement graceful and deliberate. "Well, Major, it has been... interesting," she says, her tone implying a myriad of things left unsaid.

Bucky, taken aback by her sudden desire to leave, scrambles to his feet. "Wait, Liz, why don't you stay for another drink? The night is still young, and I feel we've barely scratched the surface."

Liz turns to him, a sly smile playing on her lips. "I'm afraid I have other engagements to attend to, Major. But I must thank you for the entertainment," she teases, her gaze piercing through him with a challenge that silently says she's not one to be easily conquered.

As she walks away, Bucky watches, a mix of frustration and fascination written across his face. For the first time, he's encountered a woman who not only matches his wit but exceeds it, leaving him in uncharted territory. Liz, with her aristocratic poise and undeniable charm, has turned the tables on him, making it clear that if he wishes to pursue her, he's in for a game unlike any he's played before.

Returning to his comrades, Bucky's expression is a mix of irritation and resolve, a stark contrast to the confident swagger he had before approaching Liz. The British soldiers, having observed the entire exchange, can't help but wear smirks of "told you so" on their faces.

"Well, Major, looks like the ice queen has claimed another victim," one of the Brits comments, clapping Bucky on the shoulder with a laugh that's both sympathetic and mocking.

Bucky, undeterred, shoots back, "This isn't over. Not by a long shot."

Another British soldier chimes in, swirling his drink, "Mate, many have tried to climb that mountain. From viscounts to earls, not a single one has reached the summit. Lady Cavendish is... well, she's a fortress."

"Yeah, heard she loves to make sport of men, seeing who can try and fail the most spectacularly," adds a third, his tone laced with a mix of admiration and warning.

One of Bucky's American friends, attempting to find a solution, suggests, "Did you pull the pilot card? Chicks love pilots." The suggestion hangs in the air until another British soldier, who had been quietly listening, interjects, "Her brother's Captain Edward Cavendish, Royal Air Force war hero. Your pilot card might as well be a library card."

The revelation doesn't dampen Bucky's spirits; if anything, it fuels his determination. His jaw sets firmly, the challenge now more personal than ever. "So, she's used to high-flyers, huh? Well, she hasn't met anyone like me. I'm not just any pilot; I'm Major Bucky Egan. And I don't give up that easily."

The group looks at him, a mix of skepticism and intrigue in their eyes. They know Bucky for his tenacity, his charm, and his unwillingness to back down from a challenge. But Lady Elizabeth Cavendish is not just any challenge—she's a high-stakes game that many have lost.

As the night winds down and the group disperses, Bucky's mind races with plans. He knows winning over someone like Lady Cavendish won't be easy, but he's always loved a challenge. The thought of her, with her piercing blue eyes and that untouchable aura, only makes him more determined. He's ready to prove that he's not like the others, that he's someone who stands out, even in a crowd of heroes.

The stage is set for a captivating game of wit, charm, and strategy. Bucky's resolve and Liz's cunning promise a tale of intrigue, where each move could either draw them closer or push them further apart.

In the soft morning light filtering through the hotel's dining room windows, Bucky and his fellow soldiers are halfway through their breakfast, the air filled with the light-hearted banter typical of men who've faced much together. The sudden approach of a concierge, bearing the unmistakable posture of formal importance, silences the table. With a discreet cough to announce his presence, the concierge presents a silver platter to Bucky.

Bucky, eyebrows raised in surprise, picks up the envelope resting on the platter. The envelope itself is a work of art, the calligraphy on the front flawlessly executed, hinting at the significance of its contents. His name, "Major John Egan, US Air Force," is inscribed with elegant flourishes that speak of a bygone era of meticulous attention to detail.

As he carefully opens the envelope, the anticipation among his comrades is palpable. They watch as Bucky's initial confusion shifts to an understanding smile, a silent acknowledgment of the ongoing saga that had captivated them since last night. He pulls out the invitation, and it reads:

Major John Egan,

It is with great pleasure that Arthur Cavendish, Duke of Wellington, and Margaret Cavendish, Duchess of Wellington, extend to you an invitation to a gala being held at our family estate, Wellington House, on the evening of this day.

This event will assemble distinguished individuals from various sectors of British and Allied societies in a celebration of unity and resilience in these challenging times.

Date: This evening at 7 o'clock post meridiem

Dress Code: Formal (Black Tie)

Location: Wellington House, Kent

We anticipate the honor of your presence and look forward to an evening of meaningful exchanges and spirited fellowship.

Kindly present this invitation at the entrance.

Sincerely, The Duke of Wellington

Bucky's grin now spread wide across his face, confirms the unspoken thoughts of his table. "Looks like I've got plans this evening," he announces, his voice a mix of amusement and intrigue.

The soldiers around him, well aware of the story behind the invitation, erupt into a mix of cheers and playful jeers. Bucky's encounter with Lady Elizabeth Cavendish, a tale that had quickly become legendary among them, was evidently far from over. This invitation was not just a call to a social event; it was the next chapter in a story that promised to be as unpredictable as it was entertaining.

As the concierge departs, Bucky's mind races with possibilities. The gala at Wellington House was not just an opportunity to step into the world of British aristocracy; it was a chance to see Liz again, to engage in their game of wits and charm. With a sense of adventure stirring in his heart, he knew one thing for sure: the evening promised to be unforgettable.

House Wellington, Kent, 1943

As Bucky steps into the grandeur of the Wellington estate, the opulence of the gala immediately envelops him. The air is thick with the scent of expensive perfumes mingling with the faint aroma of quality tobacco. The chatter of the high society fills the room, a mixture of refined British accents and the occasional foreign dialect. Bucky, in his crisply pressed formal uniform, stands out—not just for his attire but also for the aura of confidence he carries with him, an unmistakable mark of a man not easily intimidated.

He navigates through the crowd, champagne flute in hand, his eyes scanning the room until they find what they've been searching for: Liz. She's a vision in her gown, embodying the grace and elegance of her status, yet with a glimmer in her eye that hints at her spirited nature. As he approaches, he can't help but admire the way she holds herself, the center of attention yet seemingly uninterested in the adoration she commands.

"Seems like I can't go anywhere without you showing up to steal the spotlight," Bucky teases, offering her a playful smirk as he closes the distance between them.

Liz turns to face him fully, her expression one of amused defiance. "Oh, Major Egan, I was under the impression that an officer of your caliber would know how to read a simple dress code," she retorts, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she gives him a once-over. "But I suppose we can't all have the luxury of choice in our evening attire, can we?"

Bucky chuckles, unphased by her jab. "Well, Lady Cavendish, it seems I'm at a disadvantage here. While you dazzle the room in that stunning dress, I'm stuck in this old thing," he says, gesturing to his uniform with a mock sigh. "But let's be honest, we both know I could show up in a burlap sack, and you'd still find it hard to keep your eyes off me."

The air between them crackles with the tension of their banter, a dance they've both come to enjoy. Liz takes a slow drag from her cigarette, held elegantly in a long holder. "Confident, aren't we? Just don't let that confidence get you into trouble, Major. This isn't the front line, and the battles here are fought differently," she says, blowing out a stream of smoke, her gaze locked with his.

"Then consider me armed and dangerous," Bucky replies with a grin, his eyes never leaving hers. "But I'll admit, this is one battlefield I'm looking forward to navigating, especially if it means crossing swords with you, Lady Cavendish."

Their exchange, filled with the playful yet pointed jabs of two individuals equally matched in intellect and charm, sets the tone for the evening. Around them, the gala continues in its whirl of music, laughter, and conversation, but for Bucky and Liz, the rest of the world fades into the background. They are each other's focal point, engaged in a game where the stakes are undefined but unmistakably high, each moment building on the tension and attraction that simmers just below the surface.

As Bucky and Liz continue their verbal dance, the arrival of a British Captain momentarily shifts the atmosphere. The Captain's demeanor is one of polite curiosity mixed with the protective scrutiny of a brother. When he inquires about Bucky, there's a brief tension, a moment where the social games of the evening meet the reality of wartime alliances and personal connections.

Bucky, with the straightforwardness that military life has ingrained in him, extends a hand. "Major John Egan, US Air Force," he introduces himself with a respectful nod, recognizing the familial resemblance in the Captain's features.

Edward's expression warms slightly at the mention of Bucky's service. "Ah, a fellow pilot then. And where might you be stationed, Major Egan?" he asks, a hint of camaraderie entering his voice upon learning of their shared skies.

"With the 100th Bomber Group," Bucky responds, his answer earning a nod of respect from Edward. The reputation of Bucky's outfit precedes him, known even among the British ranks for their bravery and contributions to the war effort.

The conversation takes a turn when Edward's attention shifts towards his sister, curiosity piqued. "And how did you two come to meet?" he inquires, his gaze bouncing between Liz and Bucky, searching for a glimpse into his sister's enigmatic social life.

Bucky opens his mouth to answer, perhaps a little too eagerly, ready to dive into the tale of their first encounter. However, Liz, ever the master of her own narrative, interjects with a grace that belies the quick thinking behind her words. "We met at a charity event just last week," she states, her voice carrying a tone of casual innocence. "Major Egan was kind enough to share some fascinating insights into his experiences in the war so far. It's not every day we have the honor of hearing such stories firsthand."

Edward's expression softens, a mix of brotherly concern and pride evident in his gaze as he looks at Liz. It's clear he's unaware of the full extent of his sister's adventurous spirit and her propensity for finding herself in the company of intriguing characters. "Well, I'm glad to hear our allies are not just brave but also charitable. It's important, especially in times like these, to remember what we're fighting for," he comments, directing a respectful nod towards Bucky.

The moment passes, and Edward excuses himself to greet other guests, leaving Bucky and Liz alone once again. Bucky raises an eyebrow at Liz, impressed by her quick thinking and ability to weave a story that protects her reputation while not entirely dismissing their actual encounter. "A charity event, huh? You're quite the storyteller, Lady Cavendish," he teases, the corners of his mouth turning up in an amused smile.

Liz, taking a delicate sip of her champagne, meets his gaze with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "One must always be prepared to tell the story that needs to be heard, Major Egan. Besides, I couldn't possibly let you ruin all my fun with the truth, now could I?" she replies, her tone playful yet laced with the underlying thrill of their shared secret.

Their exchange, now even more charged with the thrill of their clandestine understanding, continues to weave a complex tapestry of attraction and intrigue, each moment adding to the layers of their unfolding story.

Next Part

[sophiamcdougall]

So I have this friend who lives in my building. She is a naturally gregarious type, a bit of a people-collector, so last year instead of having one birthday party, she decided to have four, one party a week, for a whole month, all in her flat. Don't know how she does it. And the other thing about my friend is that although we live in what is generally considered a rough area, she is/was actually posh enough to have been to St Paul's School For Girls. And if you know anything about British public schools, the entire (rotten) point of them is basically that you will grow up to be part of the in-group of influential people.

So I've got somewhat used to finding out every so often that she vaguely knows some celebrity or news pundit or whatever. I was, however, a little shocked to find out she had a mutual friend with Kwasi fucking Kwarteng, partner in crime to Liz Truss the Lettuce-Conquered, you know, the ones who crashed the British economy. But not as shocked as my friend was to run into him at a party, whereupon he said to her "oh, I'm sorry I didn't make it to any of your parties!"

As if he had been invited!! As if it was a given that he could just turn up in any private home in London and everyone would be pleased to see him!! As if it was to be expected that people were out there hosting parties and being disappointed that Kwasi Kwarteng didn't show up despite never even having fucking met the guy!!

And I was so shocked at the idea I had just barely escaped being at a party which Kwasi Kwarteng could potentially have crashed at any moment that I had to have this story repeated to me twice to believe I'd actually understood. Listen. My friends. I generally like it here. I do. There is a lot of green space nearby that was a godsend during lockdown. I have a large balcony and even though the council won't fix the fucking drainage, it is overflowing with flowers. The local cornershop put a "defend drag story hour" flyer in the window. I have multiple neighbours who will feed my cat if I am away. But you know. One time I booked a plumber in and at the last minute he refused to come because the last time he parked his van here all his stuff got stolen. Another neighbour has seen people pissing in the stairwells. There is that heroin addict on the floor below who every so often runs amok and threatens to stab people. He threatened to stab me once and this year he helped me get a book case up the stairs -- people contain multitudes. The very least I should be able to expect here is to be safe from running into the former Chancellor of the fucking Exchequer.

[communicationthroughlyrics]

Our Fire When We're Together, Mixed With Paranoid Manners

You were able to break free, and finally start your dream. But will the one who matters most make it to the most important night of your life to date? Will she see you the same way?

A/N: Not sure how I feel about this one. Just kind of meh. Let me know what you think. Not proofread.

TW: Mentions of suicide, Anxiety, angst, and fluff. Not smut in this one, sorry :]

You sat on the closed lid to the toilet in your bathroom, stripped down to all but your underwear. Today was a huge day for you. To say you were stressed, was a colossal understatement. You had to get yourself ready for arguably one of the largest days of your life- next to marriage, and you had to do it without your best friend, whom had swore to you that they would be there for when this moment had happened. But of course, in typical fashion your life had decided to throw a massive monkey wrench into that plan, and shit had literally hit the fan while she was out of the country for work. Admittedly, you were proud of how you had handled this up to now, because going through a divorce while starting your dream business was no easy feat. Of course, your best friend, Lizzie, assured you that she was just a phone call away- but that was nothing compared to the calming presence she had when she was around you. You, in your ever so stubborn fashion, had opted to handle all of this yourself, not wanting to bother your best friend for fear of coming across as selfish. Part of you knew that her current fling wouldn’t appreciate you calling constantly, as they were not a fan of how close you and Liz were. 

There had always been a tension between you two- you both attended NYU, which is where you had met the blonde, while she was going to school to pursue her budding acting career- you were going to get a business degree after attending a technical school to open your dream automotive shop, building the cars of peoples dreams. There had been an ‘after mid-term’ party that one of your friends had dragged you to, you had wanted to stay in and relax after the strenuous study schedule you had been on. Your friend had convinced you that one night out wouldn’t be the end of you. That is where you met a green eyed, blonde standing by the bar in the corner of the room, chatting up the ‘bartender’ as you had approached. You instantly recognized her from one of your statistics gen-ed classes, and you both picked up small talk, before walking to a quieter corner of the room. You talked all night, before exchanging numbers and continuing your conversations over the span of the remaining semester. You were amazed at how she always came to you with the most doe eyed, expectant expressions on her face, she was never sad to be around you, and vice versa. You both soon realized that you were each others calm, and could talk to each other with no expectations, no judgement, and a mutual respect that made everyone around you envious. Many of your friends became jealous of how easily she fit into your life. But you shrugged it off. You enjoyed her company. Only one of your fiends knew how you really felt- your best guy friend, Jason. He knew that your feelings were a little bit deeper than ‘best friends’, that you really wanted to be with Liz, but he respected that you didn’t want to ruin your friendship over feelings you were certain weren’t reciprocated. 

As time went on, you both grew insanely close, and one fateful night you have both been at a party celebrating graduation, and you both were more than intoxicated. You were most definitely the more shy of the two, but given a healthy dose of liquid courage you were known to be a totally different person. You both had woken up in your apartment, sharing the bed naked. You both agreed at that moment that nothing had happened, but deep down, you knew that it wasn’t a ‘nothing’  kind of thing that had happened. But, against your better judgement, you told yourself to push your feelings down, ignore what had happened that night, and continue the relationship as it was. You watched her date guy after guy, further convincing yourself that she will never see you as more than a friend. You began drinking a little bit more, blaming your college years on building your tolerance and not knowing what to do with your new found time after graduating. Liz had moved back to California, jumping right into the acting business, and having her career pick up almost immediately. You were happy for her, you were. You just wished that she could also be happy with you. In the time that you had gotten to know her, she had introduced you to her family. They were hesitant to let you in at first, but knowing how the media had treated her family, particularly the twins, it was understandable. 

Over time, you had won over her family, and they accepted you as one of their own. Now that Liz was all over, you often spent time with Mary Kate or Ashley while you were in New York. They could see right through the facade you put on whenever the younger Olsen was around, and knew about your feelings towards her. Every breakup, they would encourage you to say something- you would refuse, not wanting to be a rebound, wanting her to feel better first, and not wanting to jeopardize the relationship you had built. Inevitably, she would find someone almost immediately after, dispelling the “rebound recovery” theory right away, but you continued to support her as time went on. 

What you had no idea of, however, was the late night conversations the blonde had with her older sisters, asking them why you didn’t like her the way she wanted, and why you had never capitalized on her failed relationships, swooping in the way she wanted you to, and finally asking you to be together. The day you started to date your now ex-wife, the scowl on her face was priceless. You made fun of her so much, mocking how jealous she was, without really truly realizing how she was, in fact, jealous. When you told her that you were getting married, she told you that it was a bad idea, but wouldn’t stop you. Everyone told you that it was a bad idea, but you ignored the warnings for the sheer desire and contentment you had to have someone, for once, to wake up to in the morning. You never once told your wife about your feelings for Liz, you didn’t dare to. You knew that would be the end of your friendship, and that would defeat the purpose of not saying anything. But- your subconscious had better ideas. Allegedly, your wife had found the diary you had written all your feelings in, the diary your therapist had advised you to start, and in that diary were your admitted feelings for your best friend, written in your hand, in blue and black ink. That coupled with you moaning her name in your sleep for a week straight, led to a confrontation about your feelings for the blonde. 

When she gave you the inevitable ultimatum, “It’s me or her,” you chose her, not your wife- arguing that it was a 10 year friendship that can’t just be tossed aside for some ‘teenage feelings’. That’s what has led you to this point. Sitting on your toilet in your single bedroom apartment, thinking over the last year. Lizzie only knows of what you told her- that you were getting a divorce because Lauren, the other blonde in your life, your ex-wife, had been downplaying your dream to start a custom car building shop, and told you to pick a more “conventional” career. It wasn’t wrong- your wife hated the career path you had chosen. The times you would come home covered in car filth, grease, and smelling like paint thinner were too much for her. Despite it being your true passion, she never really supported it. The first time you had built a car out of a friends garage, and entered it into a prestigious regional car show, she didn’t even go with you to showcase the build. But Lizzie did. She was so proud of the moment you won Best in Show, and took you out celebrating afterwards. 

After winning that show, you began receiving more and more requests for builds. This warranted you finally opening your dream shop. Liz and her family were proud of the progress you had made, and even helped you front the cost of a tiny shop in a small town upstate, giving you the space you needed to create your dream cars. Today, you received the finalization paperwork for your divorce from the greedy she-devil, as she was now called amongst your friends and family. She made sure to take everything she could from you in an act of spite- causing you to loose the small garage upstate, along with all the equipment, just so you could afford to find a place to put a roof over your head. You were also opening a new, larger shop. You had been working 2 jobs and saving all the money you could to pay for all the equipment and the space you needed, and today is the day you were supposed to open it to the world, with the unveiling of your latest build. 

“Y/N/N, you know I will always be there. When your new shop opens, I swear I will be there for you. That was your dream, that’s what you went to school for. I remember the nights we would sit and bullshit, and we would talk about our dreams. You have been nothing but amazing, and supportive of me living mine- it’s only right for me to do the same.” Lizzie rubbed your shoulder, reassuring you before she flew out for Hong Kong for filming. 

In all your talks in college, she had never really alluded to a dream car, necessarily. But she always referred to a car that had been in her family, that an uncle had sold, despite the family not wanting the car to leave the family. You had searched, and found such a car like she described, but it had been in rough condition. Knowing there was no way keep it original, you found a way to combine the car for what it was for the family, into something that Lizzie would drive. Or so you hoped. You converted the car to a hybrid electric system, as the engine had been completely seized form years of sitting. No one knew of what you built, but you invited the whole family to the opening, with the intention of unveiling this car to them, and giving it to Liz. But now, she can’t be there. 

“Lizzieeeeeeeee, you said you would be there for me. I can’t do this without you!” You groaned at the computer screen, currently on a video call with your best friend. You slammed your head to the table next to the computer, shaking the screen, and making the blonde laugh in response. 

“I know, hun. I have literally tried everything short of saying my entire family died to be able to take a small break to fly back. They are adamant on me doing these reshoots now, they can’t wait.” You groaned again, leaning back in the chair and letting your head fall completely backwards. You were honestly having a teenage tantrum. 

“Fine, Liz. You’re lucky I love you. But you owe me.” You fire back, ignoring the pang in your heart, and the desire to tell her you really, truly love her. 

“I know, Y/N. I love you, and I am so sorry I can’t be there for you this time. I hope I can make it up to you.”

You started the shower, finally willing yourself to get cleaned up and ready for the night. You had been at the shop, putting the finishing touches on the surprise for the night, ensuring that it was perfect. Once you were satisfied that you were clean enough, and had washed away enough tension to continue, you stepped out of your small shower, staring yourself down in the mirror. You were a ragged version of yourself, the stress of the divorce and the shop closing and reopening taking its toll. The video calls with Liz were few and far between, and you always sat in a darker room, so she wouldn’t worry about your now slim frame. You had honestly just quit drinking, and began working out, so you were now extremely toned in comparison to a year ago, but you were also a shocking 70 lbs. lighter, and you looked like a zombie due to the lack of sleep. The twins gave you a full ration of shit, telling you that they needed to make up for the younger sibling not being here to do it herself. If Lizzie saw you, you’re not sure what she would say. She had commented that your face looked weird, but hadn’t seen you entirely to know the extent of the last years dramatics and their toll on you. 

Dressing yourself in a tight fitting black button up Dickies shirt, rolling up the sleeves for your now tattooed arms to show, and a pair of dark blue jeans, ruffling your hair and applying your choice cologne, you deemed yourself as ready as you could be for the night. You made sure to pick a place where you didn’t live far from the shop, so you could easily walk to work. Tonight, however, you decided to slip on your helmet and ride the motorcycle everyone chastised you for. Wedging your aviator sunglasses in between your helmet and their respective position on your ears, you fired the bike up, and took off down the street. You bobbed in and out of the traffic that was present, pulling into the large warehouse parking lot, noticing that a few people had already shown up to help set up. 

You pulled the motorbike around back, and set the helmet on your handle bars, tousling your hair in the mirror of the bike, before using your keycard to walk into the back door of the shop. You don’t know how you had been so lucky, but the demand from your first car show has left you with an almost full shop of projects, not shortage of work in the foreseeable future. You were beyond grateful, but wished your best friend was here to see this. You see some tables set up at the far end of the shop, and a little soapbox type stage, you had requested this be built into the shop because you wanted an excuse to play music on random occasions and didn’t want the hassle of dealing with a bar. You were glad you had decided to cover the gift car, since the twins were both running around, setting up the food and drinks they had brought with them. 

“Y/N!” Ashley had now noticed your arrival, running over and jumping onto you, hugging you tightly. “I am so damn proud of you. This place is amazing, even though it is…nerdy.” She scrunched her face, she never understood the passion you held in cars, but never held it against you.

“Thanks, Ash. I can’t believe this is really happening.” You respond, kicking your feet on the concrete floor, looking down at your feet. 

“Oh, you best believe it, Y/N/N. We’re so proud of you, hun.” Your moms voice came from behind you, and you quickly turned on your heel, hugging her tightly. 

“Thanks, ma. I love you.” You whisper, before letting her go to mill around and see the projects you have to work on. Guests slowly started to filter in, some of the owners of the cars now being housed in your garage coming up and congratulating you, and inspecting different aspects of the shop, curiosity overtaking them to see where their dream cars will be built. The dull thrum of music came through the shops speakers, and you made sure to thank everyone that came through the door for coming by. You held out a glimmer of hope that one particular blonde would show up, albeit fashionably late, but she never did.

“I see you keep watching the door, Y/N.” MK bumped your arm, as you were staring out from the loft above the shop, observing the 100 or so people below milling around, talking animatedly about their projects. Your dull expression on a night that should be one of your happiest, she frowned at the lack of excitement on your face. 

“I miss her, MK. I wish she was here with us. It’s been almost a year.” You responded, swirling the drink in your hand, allowing your gaze to get lost in the swirl of amber alcohol within it. This was the first taste of any alcohol you had in months, so you decided to treat yourself.

“I know, we all do. But I know that this has been rough not having her here through everything you’ve been through the last year.” Her hand came to rest on your shoulder, gently rubbing it, calming you slightly. 

“Yeah, it’s been challenging, to say the least.”

“Y/N?” MK asked, turning her back to walk to one of the leather arm chairs in your new office. She straddled the arm, sitting on it and staring right through you. 

“Hmm?” You turned around, setting the glass on the railing as you gripped the railing behind you, leaning against it.

“Tell her. When you see her next. Put yourself out of the misery, and tell her how you feel.” Your eyes widened at her request, rather- demand. 

“I can’t, MK. You know that. She’s never going to see me the way I see her, and I can’t loose her as a friend.” She nodded, looking down at her ring clad hands that are resting in her lap. 

“Y/N. I can’t tell you how she will react, but I promise you, that you mean too much to her for her to let you go. You won’t loose her, Y/N. But you’ve got to tell her. You’ve been given a second chance here. Take it.” With that, she stood, grabbing the glass of club soda next to her, and walking back downstairs. You stalked over to your desk, sitting yourself down in your chair, and spinning around to the wall of photos behind your desk.

You found yourself getting lost in the stories behind each snapshot on the wall, replaying the visions that came with them. You weren’t sure how long you had been there, reliving the memories on the wall behind your desk, but a gentle hand on your shoulder quickly brought you out of your trance, making you jump slightly. 

“Shouldn’t you be enjoying everyones company, Y/N? I believe they call it, ‘business networking?’ ” A familiar tone came from behind you, and you flew out of your chair, throwing yourself in the direction of the voice you had craved to hear all night. 

“You said you couldn’t come tonight. I thought you were still in Hong Kong.” You whispered into her neck, not letting her go for fear she would suddenly disappear. “I missed you, Lizzie.”

“I missed you more, Y/N. I promised I wouldn’t miss this. But I wanted to surprise you.” She smiled as you pulled away finally baring yourself to your best friend, who had been absent from your present life for the last year. She was dressed in a simple black tee, blue jeans and sneakers- but to you, the simplest of outfits on her made her look stunning. She gave you a once over, frowning at your current state. “My god, Y/N, you don’t look well. You’re skin and bone compared to when I saw you last.”

“Uhm, yeah, but I’m ok.. I lost 70 lbs. Between the stress of the divorce, and building this place, handling all the upcoming work, and building the project down there, I haven’t really been myself, Liz. Especially not without my bestie around.” You showed her a small smile, nudging her arm. She frowned slightly at your admission, shaking her head. “The only thing that kept me going was… that project.” You hesitated, wanting to disclose that the true reason you kept going was her. 

“Y/N, you have to take care of yourself.” She stepped closer to you again, grabbing your arm, rubbing it up and down, calming you instantly. Her viridescent eyes looked straight into yours, and you honestly found yourself getting lost in the seas before you. “Am I going to have to tote you around with me, take you everywhere I go so I can make sure you’re ok?” She laughed, lightly slapping your arm.

“Actually…” you smirk, laughing as her jaw drops and she hits you harder on the arm. 

“Ass!” She laughs, grabbing you arm and pulling you back in for a hug. 

“Well, Liz…you’re just in time for me to go down and show everyone my extra special secret project.”

Her eyebrow raised, and you swore that you could’ve died just then. “Extra special secret project? Are you 12?” She chuckled, shaking her head. 

“Wha? No!!” You looked at her, incredulous that she would say that to you. Her face dropped at your panic, and you smiled her way, earning an eye roll from her. “Its special because of who it reminds me of, and who it’s for.”

“You built it for someone?!” Now it was her turn to look dumbfounded. “Who? Is it a secret client?” She emphasized the secret part, jumping up and down while clapping her hands together. She looked over the half wall to the crowd milling below. “It’s them, it’s totally them. I know it.” She pointed at someone in the people on the lower level. You laughed, approaching her and sliding your hand over her lower back, leaning against the wall and observing everyone happily chatting and enjoying the food and drink. 

“I can assure you, it isn’t them. But to say that this person is my first client would be true. I’ve wanted to build this for them for a while now. For all that they did for me.” She turned in to look at you, and you watched the glint in her eyes. You swore that you saw something in her eyes, as she opened her mouth like she was going to say something. She quickly shut her mouth, and looked back to the group of people beneath you. You grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the stairs. You led her down the stairs, your hands still linked. When the twins caught sight of this, they both smirked your way, but you shook your head. The frown that overtook MK’s face was deep, as she set her face in a deep scowl. You mouthed “not now,” getting her to relax slightly before you pushed their younger sister over to them. 

Approaching the small stage in the corner of the room, the roar in the room started to soften as the occupants noticed you approaching the microphone stand. 

“Good Evening everyone,” you remove the mic from the stand, pushing the stand out of your personal bubble. There is a muffled response from everyone who has now turned to face you. Your eyes scanned the room, finding that the people who meant the most were all in a row together, at the back of the crowd. Lizzie was sandwiched in between her sisters, with Dave and Jarnie standing behind the twins. Your mom was next, with your dad standing with his arm around her shoulder. Some of your friends from college, from technical school and beyond. “I want to thank everyone for coming out here tonight, some of you came from out of state, and it means a lot to me that you could make it.” You lock your eyes on Lizzie, sending her a wink abhor moving on, walking around the small stage. 

“This has been a long time coming, opening up a dream business that I have been passionate about since I was young. Building cars has been a passion of mine since elementary school. I hope that this passion continues to show in the work that is driven out of those doors.” You motion, pointing at the garage doors by the unveiling area you had designed in the shop. You continue to dive into the passion and the reasoning behind this decision to open a shop like this, as well as thanking the people who helped to get you to where you are now. “Now, as you can see, there are plenty of cars in here to occupy my time for a while, and I am sure in everyones chatting tonight that you all have realized that the majority of the owners of these cars are here tonight…” you gesture out to the racks of cars that were in various stages of being worked on. “… and I would like to thank each and every owner for trusting me with these projects, and having the faith in me to put their dreams forth and turn these cars into a reality.” You walked down off the stage, as everyone claps. 

“Now, the project that has been occupying my time of late, the vehicle that will christen this shop as the first vehicle to leave that rollup door, is a special vehicle to someone who has proved to be very important to me, and whose family has welcomed me as one of their own.” You look up, noticing the reaction of the family you were speaking of. “You may be asking, Y/N, what about your parents? They’re here too. Well, the answer is simple. Ive built those cars in thanks already. Those cars are the reason I have a client base now.” You gesture towards the trio of cars that were built for your parents. “This car, is for my ‘adopted’ family. I found out about this car, in my multiple late night discussions with that young lady, over there.” You point in Lizzies direction, and the rooms attention shifts towards the Olsen family. “This woman has become one of my absolute best friends, after meeting her in business school at NYU. For the last ten years, she has been with me through absolutely everything.” She blushed and scrunched her nose, as you waved her up to you. 

“This is the car I saw in so many family photos, and heard stories of driving around with their grandpa and dad before it needed to be sold. It reminds me so much of the story of that vehicle over there, and how I felt when it disappeared outside of the family.” You pointed at the same 1955 Chevy that was your grandfathers, that was sold and broke your family’s collective heart. When you were able to track down the same vehicle, you fixed it, and surprised your parents by driving up to their house in it. Your mom was in tears, it was her fathers car, his baby from the time he bought it when she was in middle school. The significance of it, being that is was the same year her oldest sibling was born. Your grandfathers first child. SO when it left the family, it was truly heartbreaking. 

“Loosing that 55 was difficult on the family, because it becomes a family member. So saying that I understood how hard it was for this family to loose a family member, is an understatement.” You walk over to the vehicle, inviting the rest of the Olsens up to stand behind it. “None of them knew about this build, till now.” You turn and smile, taking in the shocked faces of the family, noticing the mixed emotions of what may lay below the satin sheet. “Now, I did take some liberty here, and designed it for a changing world. I designed it knowing the things that are important to the person I wanted to gift this to.” You smile, looking over at the blonde beside you. The look on her face was one of astonishment. “It may seem sacrilegious for some, but the condition I found this vehicle in, I couldn’t save the powertrain. So, considering how hard it is to find an original powertrain for this car, I did what I felt was best. I made it more powerful, but better for the environment. I was able to make this vehicle a hybrid.” You gesture, walking over to a corner of the sheet, waving Lizzie to follow. She looked over the vehicle before looking at you with tears in her eyes. You handed her the corner of the fabric, and told her to pull it towards the corner. She nodded, wiping the tears away that had fallen, before she pulled the fabric off the car, revealing a black 1961 Ferrari Spyder. She immediately dropped the fabric, covering her mouth as she cried seeing the vehicle that she spoke so emphatically about. The twins, Jarnie and Dave all crying, as the vehicle, like the old Chevy to your mom, was her dads car growing up. 

The room began to mill around, looking at the vehicle, as you lifted the hood to reveal a hybrid electric power plant, and Lizzie came up and wrapped her arms around you from behind. 

“Why?” She whispered, causing goosebumps to erupt across your body. “You didn’t need to do this, you know.”

“You deserve it. Your family, they deserve it too. You’ve been there for me, more than anyone ever has. So many times you pulled me from a dark place, and you have no idea how much I appreciate that, because had you not been there, I would not be here today.” Your eyes get misty as you pull her away towards a farther corner of the room. 

“What do you mean, Y/N?” She asks, not fully understanding the depth of what needs to be said. 

“I’ll tell you later. First, I want you and your dad to go take a ride in your new old car.” You say, smiling as you hand her the keys. 

“Y/N, you can’t be serious. You built it for me? This, this is mine?” Her hand was shaking as she reached for the keys. 

“Yes. Yes it is.” You shook your head, slipping the keys into her hand. 

“But, wha…what about mom and dad?” She asked, gesturing towards them, as they looked over the vehicle, Jarnie sitting in the passenger seat. 

“I already asked them, they agree. This is your car.” She whipped her head in your direction at the admission. 

“They knew about this?”

“Not to the extent that I did, but they knew I bought your grandpas car back. I had to ask them for the records to the car to find it.”

“You sneaky fucking shit,” she laughed at you, smacking your chest. 

“Go, enjoy it. We can talk when you get back,” you smile at her, before she went running over and hugging her mom and dad. You smiled at the interaction between the three. 

“You did good, hun.” Your mom says, coming up and hugging you. “It’s a beautiful car.”

“Thanks, ma. I appreciate it.” You smile, hugging her tight. 

“Now, Y/N… when are you going to tell the poor girl how you feel?” It was your turn to look absolutely stunned. “Y/N, honey, I know how you feel about her. It’s obvious. I may not have accepted the fact that you were gay at first, but I know you better than anyone. You and her, you’re crazy about each other, and you both keep running around it, and avoiding it. Tell Liz how you feel. She feels the same way.”

“Ma, I know. What is this, gang up on Y/N day? MK said the same thing to me not even 2 hours ago.”

“Because it’s true, Y/N. Don’t be stupid, look where that got you with your last relationship.” She scolded, before walking away. You stood there stunned at what your mother had just told you. You knew that she didn’t like your now ex-wife. You just thought that was in part to her not agreeing with you being gay. But it wasn’t. She just hated your ex. You let out a deep sigh, jumping when a hand lands on your shoulder. 

“What was that about?” MK asked, raising her eyebrow like she really knew the answer. 

“You two are teaming up on me. I swear.” You grumble. 

“Because we care? And because we know. Believe me, I know Lizzie better than anyone.”

“What does that even mean??” You groan. 

“Y/N, don’t be dense. Just wo-man up and say it.” You grimace at the statement. 

“Ew. Don’t ever say wo-man up ever, ever again.” She laughs before walking away, just as the black convertible pulls back into the garage. Lizzie is grinning from ear to ear, and her dad is too. 

“This isn’t what we had anticipated when you asked for information about the car, Y/N/N.” Jarnie slid in next to you, still staring at the car on the other end of the shop. “We thought you were going to leave it as-is. This is better than we all had imagined. They look so happy.” She smiled, taking in the sight of the three girls and their dad around the car. 

“It was your dads car, what do you think?” You ask, nudging the eldest Olsen. 

“It’s perfect, Y/N. Especially for Liz.” You turn and give the woman a hug, before she walks over to where the twins stood. You decide to let them look everything over, and dismiss yourself through the crowd, shanking hands and briefly speaking with those who stopped you on the way upstairs to your office. With how the last year has been, you find yourself reflecting by yourself more often. You see some people begin to filter their way out, at this point the party had been going on for roughly 4 hours. You again found yourself behind your desk, staring into space, not noticing the new presence in the room. 

“I was told you needed to speak to me.” The voice of your best friend rang out from behind you. 

“You were told, huh?” You smile, turning in your chair to face your best friend, who sat herself down in the chair across from you, the desk now in between. 

“More like, directed to come up here by your mom, my mom and my sisters.” She said, laughing. You rolled  your eyes at their insistence. 

“Of course, they’re seriously annoying me tonight.”

“Oh? How come?”

“It’s nothing, Liz.” She shook her head in response. 

“What were you talking about earlier, Y/N? When you said you wouldn’t be here?”

“What I meant, was that you were what kept me going, Liz.” You let out a deep sigh, shifting your gaze to the floor beside the actress. “I was so close, so many times, to calling it quits. You always had a way of pulling me out of it. Sometimes I would get your text in the middle of my meltdown, or a phone call because you just wanted to catch up.” You laugh a watery laugh. “The last time we spoke on the phone, you had called at one of the worst times for me.” Her face shifted to one of confusion and concern.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you remember the last phone call, not video call, we had?”

“Yeah, you told me in that call that you and she-devil were getting a divorce. I tried to video call you instead but you kept declining it.”

“Yeah. I kept declining it because I was on the edge, Liz. I didn’t want you to see me like that. But you called without knowing something was going on. And hearing your voice, made me picture you. You saved me that night. Otherwise the next time you saw me, it would have been in a casket.” She stood, moving towards you and kneeling before you in your chair. 

“Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N? I had no idea…” she trailed off. You wiped your face with the back of your hand, sniffling at the admission. 

“Because Liz, I didn’t want to be a burden. I knew if you found out, you would up and leave what you were doing. I didn’t want to be that friend, that made you leave a movie that you had been so happy about landing.”

“Y/N, I would have left because you mean the world to me. I would have rather left than finding out you killed yourself and never got the chance to k… see you again.” She stumbled over the last bit of the sentence, catching your attention. 

“Lizzie,” you took her hands, spinning the ring on her pointer finger in your hand. “I do need to tell you something.”

“Ok. But only if I can tell you something afterwards.” You shake your head, acknowledging her request. Taking a deep breath, you push back from her, afraid to see the reaction she has to you. Standing, you walk away, closing the door to the office, and pushing the button by your light switch for the blinds to come down. You pace back and forth, before settling on a spot, and turning to look at your best friend. She was now standing behind your desk, with her arms crossed, a concerned look strewn across her features. 

“Lizzie,” you start, your heart beat seemingly pounding louder and louder. “You’re one of the best people in my life, and you quickly became one of the most important to me. No matter what you think, I can’t loose you, as a friend…” you start as she shifts her weight from one leg to another. “But, I need to tell you, that I love you. Not just as my best friend, not just as a person. I really truly love you.” You say, your eyes darting over to gauge her reaction. Her face remained stoic, she was certainly giving you her best Wanda expression. She ran her hand through her hair, taking a deep breath, before looking down. You began to panic, unsure of how she was reacting. 

“Y/N,” she started, her voice smaller than normal. She suddenly surged forwards, wrapping her arms behind your neck. “I love you too. I have, for a while.” She responded, as your face went from sullen and distant to hopeful. She leaned in, ghosting her lips against yours. “But I want you to make the first move.” She smirked, pulling away ever so slightly to look into your eyes. You looked for any sense or indication of being hesitant, finding none. Bringing your hand up to grab her behind her head, you pull her towards you, placing your other hand on the small of her back, and flushing her body against yours. Lowering your head, you press your lips against hers, sealing your confessions in a slow kiss. You both continued, slowly, passionately, before you separated and rested your foreheads against each others. 

“How long, Liz?” You asked, grabbing hold of her hands, playing with her fingers. 

“A month after we met, I knew something was different. But I was also scared of my feelings, scared of my parents, and how everyone may react. But watching you marry Lauren, that was one of the most difficult nights of my life. At that point I thought that I had lost you, and I was never going to forgive myself. I knew that after the night we woke up together in the same bed, I should have told you how I felt. Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t have driven you to someone else.”

“Liz, you didn’t though. I should have said something sooner. I didn’t want to loose you.”

“You have the chance now, Y/N. Don’t loose me now.” She responds, before you crash your lips to hers in a much more sloppy, heated kiss. You quickly took over, directing all the passion and emotion into the kiss, pushing her smaller frame against your desk. You feel her smile into the kiss, biting your lip before pulling away. “You have no idea how long I have waited for that, Y/N.” 

You smiled, pulling her in for a tight hug, nestling your face into the crook of her neck, her arms wrapped around the back of your neck, fingers laced in your hair. 

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, Liz.”

[differenteagletragedy]

RIP MC (Sorry Cove)

Takes place anytime after Step 4. Cove loses (female) MC after a medical incident.

Cove stood at your closet, glancing over your wardrobe. He let his hands touch over every item, breathing in your smell that still lingered on the pieces of clothing. When he found a dress -- your favorite dress, not your nicest but the one he knew you felt the cutest in -- he paused, then pulled it out.

He put it on the bed in a pile of things to send over to the funeral home.

They'd asked him in kind, gentle voices to put together some things for you to wear for the burial, and it wasn't a task he was taking lightly. He knew your moms or Liz might want to pick something a little nicer, but he was certain he knew you best, and he knew you'd want to be comfortable.

He tried not to think too much as he opened your jewelry box, looking for something that stood out, or when he looked through your shoes and came across your beach sandals. You wouldn't be needing those anymore, but he couldn't bear to consider the depth of that.

It had all happened just so fast -- so incredibly, frustratingly, heartbreakingly fast. Your blood pressure was high, too high, but your doctors knew that, that's why they admitted you to the hospital. They put you in some medicine he couldn't remember the name of, something that went in an IV and made you a little loopy, but you were joking about it. You were still ok. You were still you.

Then it got higher, then it got higher again. He remembered nurses moving a little faster, more doctors he had never seen before coming in. He tried to ask what was happening, but only got quick reassurances, if anything at all.

"She'll be ok," they'd told him. They were wrong.

At one point you'd started seizing -- a sight he was sure he'd never shake from his memory. Then you stopped. Then you were gone.

The rest was a blur, and Cove wasn't altogether confident that this horrific moment, the costume design for your funeral, wouldn't end up in the same mess of grief that the rest of it had. He remembered his mom holding him. His dad crying. Your moms had talked to him for a while, but he couldn't for the life of him recall what they'd said.

Going over the dresser one more time for anything you might want to wear for your last outfit, he saw your perfume and stopped. He lifted it to his nose, considered it, then sprayed a bit on his wrist. When the scent fully reached his nose, he let out a choked sob and doubled over, as if he'd been punched in the guy physically instead of just metaphorically.

He couldn't do it. He just couldn't. What would life look like without you? He couldn't picture it and he didn't want to try. How was he supposed to go through each day without you by his side? You were in everything -- the ocean, the flowers, the summers spent making sandcastles and the winters spent curled up in each other's arms. Each moment brought another thought of something you'd done together that had marked him for life, or something that you'd never get to do together, no matter how badly he yearned for it.

Cove started breathing harder, tears rolling down his face. He couldn't catch his breath and he didn't know what to do with himself. He flailed his hands, sad little screams escaping his mouth, just utterly and completely lost.

Then his phone rang.

With a shaky hand, he pulled it out of his pocket -- your ma was calling. He answered without saying a word.

"Cove, sweetie," she said in a voice holding a massive sadness of her own. "We're outside, are you ready for us to come in."

"Yeah," he managed. "I think I've got everything together."

"All right, Pam and I will get it taken care of. See you in just a minute."

Cove hung up the phone and dragged his still-shaky hands over his face, trying to pull himself together. He picked up your dress, shoes and a little bag of accessories your moms could go through. That was good enough.

He was by the front door when Pam knocked lightly, and he opened it, not even bothering to try for a smile. They didn't either.

"Trade?" your ma asked.

Cove nodded. He carefully handed the outfit over to Pam, then reached out to grab the car seat that Noelani was holding. There he was -- your newborn baby boy, fast asleep in crisp white pajamas, impossibly tiny and totally clueless about the mother he'd never get to meet.

He looked over the baby, wanting to check once again to make sure he was ok. He knew he was -- little baby Holden had been closely monitored and given a clean bill of health -- but he no longer felt comfortable being too sure of anything if someone could get ripped away from him as easily as you had been.

"He's a great kid, Cove," Pam told him. "He's a good eater, a good sleeper. I think you lucked out with this one."

"I'm thinking he takes after his mama," Noelani added, fresh tears in her eyes. "You're in for a great ride."

He couldn't bear to look at them then, their own grief so plain on their faces. Instead, he kept looking at the baby -- his chubby cheeks, his tiny hands, his pouty little lips with drool pooled at the corners. He looked like you, and Cove couldn't tell whether that was a good thing.

"We'll get out of your hair and give you two some bonding time," Pam finally broke the silence. "Your parents are coming over?"

"Yeah," he answered, glancing up at them. "I told them to wait, I wanted to be alone while I ..." he gestured to the clothes, unable to verbalize what they were. He knew, and that was bad enough.

"Of course," Pam said. "Don't wait too long to call, all right?"

"I won't."

Your moms left, telling Cove to call if he needed anything and promising to call themselves to set up more time with the baby soon, and that was it. He was left in the home you shared, with the baby you carried, and you weren't there. You never would be.

The tears started again, and apparently the baby felt like having some bonding time after all -- he woke up from his nap and started crying too. Not bothering to try to stop this time, Cove just kept sobbing as he unbuckled the car seat and pulled his son out, so careful to support him properly. He held him gently to his chest, but before he could get up to prepare a bottle or check for a dirty diaper, the baby quieted, just soothed by the touch of his father.

"Oh, ok," Cove said with a tragic little laugh. "That works."

He wasn't sure how long they sat like that, taking solace in each other, but by the time the baby did start crying properly, he felt steady enough to stand up and make his way to the kitchen for a bottle. He still felt entirely broken, and the concept of feeling ok was laughably far away, but he could do this. He could take care of his son.

[ev4npeterslover]

jpm x reader (warning: smut, and all that stuff that’s in smut’s😭)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚

You and Liz were talking and drinking at the bar like y’all always do. Liz were always curious about your relationship with James but you would always that “it’s just fine, nothing special” but this time you were a little bit more drunk that usual

“So now are you going to tell me a little bit more about you and James?” Liz asked you

“I don’t know, I mean I love him but I don’t think he loves me as much as I do” you responded quietly

“Wait what do you mean?”

“I love him so much really, but I still think he love the countess, I try not to think like this but this shit is hard”

“Oh honey I’m sure that he loves you and you don’t have to worr-“

She didn’t finish as she looked behind you, she stared to pretend that she was looking for something

You laid your head on the table and lit up your cigarette as you heard loud footsteps, suddenly someone grabbed you by your arm and dragged you to the lift, when you were in the lift you saw that James was the one that took you from the bar

“What the fuck are you doing?” You asked angrily

“What am I doing? What are you doing talking about me like this darling?”

He grabbed you by the waist at lifted you up by your arms and kness, he carried you to your shared bedroom with him. He putted you down on the bed and started kissing your neck and also leaving hickey’s. You let out a soft moan so he know that you enjoy this and you want more. You wanted to take his pants off but he stopped you.

“No darling, you have to beg me now as your punishment for accusing me of not loving you”

You were so wet already just by the kisses that you would do anything now to feel him

“Oh please mr.march I beg you please fuck me”

You said with puppy eyes, and sweetes voice you could manage to do.

“I can’t resist you anymore darling” he said and started to take your dress off.

You were all his you wanted to feel his every inch, move just him in you.

“I’m so sorry mr.march that I said such cruel things about you I will never forgive myself I love you.”

The dress was already thrown out on the floor, your panties as well, you were laying only in your bra while James was also only in his boxers kissing you on your neck but slowly going down, he was unzipping your bra as you felt his erection getting bigger and bigger, you slided your hand into his boxers and slowly jerking james off, you could hear his moans in your ears so clear that you were getting also more wetter second by second.

You felt his hand sliding down and rubbing your cunt slowly you started to moan and gently whimpering you wanted more from him, you wanted to feel him inside you.

“Fuck me mr. March” you whispered to his ear

He took of his boxers, you could see his pre-cum, he went in. Out let out the loudest moan anyone could ever imagine you were sure everyone in the hotel heard you, you felt your walls hugging his dick around

“Oh Y/N you’re so tight and wet, you’re perfect”

He started to move more quickly and started to be more rough on you, his dick felt amazing in you, you could never have enough of him

“Harder mr. March! I’m so close” you screamed

He just smirked

He moved even faster which made you go to your climax right away, you cummed and moaned that loud that James cover your mouth with his hand. He didn’t stop moving, he was still going fast

You could feel that he was close too.

“Cum inside me mr. March” you moaned

“Always my dear”

You could feel your insides getting filled up my James cum, your legs were shaking, you were in heaven you don’t remember when was the last time you had such a great sex with james.

“I love you my dear Y/N” james said playing with your hair, laying next to you.

“I love you too mr. March” you said kissing his on the cheek.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚

[melancholicbat666]

Don't do this

Note: Carmen used to be your friend (from work), but then both of you, end up in The Beef, working hard, and hating everything, again, together.

Maybe there will be more chapters.

Carmen's "golden cook" and favorite in the kitchen, was the quickest, most emotional, and skilled out of the staff, despite Carmen's relatively closed-off and neutral demeanor. Carmen moved to the almost bankrupt and stressful restaurant, and Eliza came along; agreed to the idea after almost demoting the head chef to an embarrassing position. The kitchen was now filled with shouts, arguments, and serving food that was anything but perfect.

"Do not stir like that," Carmen said, looking at the pot and then at Liz's face. "It is completely wrong for the food that will be served. Do what I say."

"Oh my god." She said, looking tired and angry.

Liz was on the other side of the kitchen, Carmen heard her but directed his anger at another employee. Even though Carmen never raised his voice at her during their time working together in the restaurants of Paris, she never would have called him a fool, or shouted, "You are getting more and more stupid due to all of this stress! Chef, you are becoming stupid." Even if the explanation was true. Carmen thought if Liz ever made a film about her biography, it would start with "Sorry, but I never used to be so rude in the kitchen, but the restaurant changed me."

At the end of the day, the kitchen is clean (but no less chaotic), and the reception is organized, all ready to close, in just a few minutes. In a futile attempt to calm down, Liz went to the supply closet, into a gray and silent alley, and lit up on her third cigarette, the air releasing the tension from her body. She seemed to be thinking about irrelevant things, about street creation, about the building that made up The Beef's neighborhood, and finally, about the brain's ability to think about irrelevant things, especially when you're on the verge of a breakdown. Two more drags. The rusty metal door made its dramatic sound, she opened it as if in a suspense film (another irrelevant thought), and when the noise subsided, Carmen appeared, passing his hand over his hair incessantly.

They just stood there, staring at each other, with the awkward atmosphere of shyness and discomfort. The embarrassment of not knowing what to think or feel, at the end of the day, after the hell of it all, was all that could be left behind in that alley.

He leaned against the moldy wall, feeling his pant pocket and even his shirt, maybe expecting some secret compartment to reveal itself in his shirt.

-I have cigarettes, if that's what you lost. I have many of them.-Liz said, tapping her finger to knock off the accumulated ash.

Carmen just nodded, and the girl fished in her pocket for a cigarette, withdrew one from her pack, and extended it to him.

-Thank you.-The boy spoke with the tobacco between his lips, making a shell that blocked the sight of the lighter, and once he managed to light it, his face tilted to the opposite side of where the girl was, as the smoke escaped from his lips with a certain charm. Two monkeys, placing in smoke and then throwing it out again, one next to the other, with only kissing sounds on the filter, and sighs.

-Sorry to ask for a cigarette.-His face was still turned away from hers.-I didn't have time to buy yesterday.

-Okay.-Another sigh.-I've always dreamed of this.

-What?-The man ran his blond hair against the dirty wall, as he finally turned his head to her side.

-I've always dreamed of loading you with nicotine all day long, or maybe filling your mouth with cigarettes.-Carmen continued to look, but with an intrigued and inconvenient expression. He threw her cigarette onto the floor.-Then you would stop yelling in everyone's ear.

He turned his body completely in her direction, the cigarette on the floor, his arms crossed, and his body was no longer leaning against the wall.

-I didn't use to yell until I got here. I need to yell to be heard, it's not like any refined restaurant.

-It's not the shouting, it's how disturbed you seem.

Silence settled.

-Then go. I don't have to pretend to be happy or satisfied, while I manage a restaurant in ruins, especially if it's for you, who at least knows more than my name and the foods I know how to do.

And there he was, glaring at her, with his mouth set and his eyes wide open.

"I hope you get better. We'll see each other tomorrow, Carmen."

Liz opened the noisy back door and walked out, hoping to find a taxi or a bus stop. It was a long and sad day and she'd have a cigarette before getting to wherever she'd end up, but damn it, she'd given him her last one.

Meanwhile, Carmen was putting off the day's accounting, staring at the apron that Liz had dumped on her counter, discarded and abandoned. He just wanted the best for everyone, the best of the only thing that his brother had left.

[mollycabot]

Alex Cabot X Reader Leave her alone

A/N Y/N’s Ex is giving her trouble however Alex isn’t going to put up with her shit

Alex was working in her office when she heard shouting coming from the hallways of DA’s office as saw two of her fellow ADAs arguing Y/N who works with her and Violet defensive ADA.

“WHY THE FUCK YOU DUMB ME FOR THIS BITCH LIEK SHE NOTHING SPECIAL AND YOU JUST AN ASS YOU HEAR ME YOU LITTLE BITCH!” Violet shouted and rise her hand ready to hit Y/N but a court officer who was passing by stoped her.

Alex walked out of her office and stood in front of her girlfriend with a cross look. “Alexandra” violet said in disgust. “Hello ADA Violet” Alex said harshly. “Why we shouting at Y/N?”. Alex asked folding her arms. “Because that bitch dumb me for you” Violet said

“Nope try again” Alex said “Y/N end your relationship because you are mean and rude and controlling and Y/N didn’t want to put up with your shit forever and you never loved her like I do and you can’t show her love the way I do and listen here if you ever harass my girlfriend again I will have you kicked out of the DA’s office and get a restraining order against you and I will make your life a living hell!” Violet huffed and walked off.

“You ok my love” Alex said gently kissing Y/N on the forehead. “Yes thank you Lexi” Y/N replied quietly. And went back to her office.

After a while things calmed down Y/N was sat having lunch with Alex when the was a knocked at the door. “Come in” alex said “Violet what do you wanted” Alex growled as she stood in front of Y/N again.

“I’m here to say sorry” putting a Cake on the table “here’s my apology gift some of my homemade cake” Violet said with a smirk. Alex took a fork and had look and picked out some nuts from the cake

“Ok so your not sorry Y/N are trying to hurt her” Alex said annoyed as she held one of the nuts up “you know dam well that Y/N is deathly allergic to these and if she eats them or comes into contact it can be life threatening” Alex shouted at this irresponsible woman.

“Lexi?” Y/N said walking into the main bit of the office. “Shit is that a hazel nut cake” Y/N said in a panic.

“It’s fine my love just be careful around here as for you come with me” alex demanded as she left her office dragging Violet with her all the way down to the chambers of Judge Liz.

After meeting with her a restraining order was out into place and Violet was fired from her job and was asked to leave immediately.

Before Violet left Alex said “you did this to yourself deserves you right this is what you get if you harass my girlfriend I become your biggest threat” Alex growled and waked off.

“Hey Y/N Violet has been fired and the restraining order is in place now she won’t be bothering us again I promise love” Alex said hugging Y/N which Y/N gave back.

“Thank you for everything Lexi you mean so much to me I wish we meet sooner and I never would have to have meet her” Y/N said quietly.

“Well you have me now and I’m not leaving my love” Alex said gently “now why don’t you go and lock up your office and I’ll tidy mine then we go out for dinner?” Alex said.

“Sounds delightful and I would love that Lexi” Y/N said walking out of Alex’s office. Alex smiled and picked up the yucky hazelnut cake and put it in the bin outside her office and tidy up and locked up same with Y/N.

Holding hand in hand they both walked out happy and looking forward to their dinner.

“I will always love you Y/N Alex said kissing Y/N’s Hand.

[kwonhoshilvr]

Super Shy - JWW

Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

I’m super shy…super shy…but wait a minute?while i make you mine..make you mine

Description: Wonwoo and y/n are childhood friends,who are in love with each other,but somethings stopping them both from confessing.

genre: fluff, romance

WC: 700?

Warnings : fluff, didn’t proofread 🫣

“What should I wear?” Y/n whined to her friends who were on call with her.

“I don’t know? maybe wear those jeans and that sweatshirt..?” Said Liz.

Y/n got ready with the help of her friends and headed out to the restaurant, with her heart beating, to meet up with Wonwoo.However, it started raining halfway through soaking y/ns’ sweater. As she entered the restaurant her eyes immediately met Wonwoos waiting ones.

“You’re finally here you slowpoke..” Wonwoo half scolded y/n.

“Sorry nunuuuu” y/n dragged her words making her cute appearance fasten wonwoo’s beating heart.

“I’ve already ordered for us so let’s just wait.”

“Oh Wonwoo! I have something to tell you..” told y/n.

Wonwoo nodded smiling softly at her, “there’s this boy that I like but I don’t know how to ask him out,” explained y/n. Wonwoos loving gaze faltered when he heard the words come out of her mouth. Y/n kept rambling about how the guy was so perfect for her, however everything she said oddly related to Wonwoo “wait what..? Y/n repeat that again.” Asked Wonwoo.

“he loves gaming and looks like a cat and he’s such a sweetheart I love him so much woo..” y/n smiled looking at him.

Wonwoo smiled looking at her “should we get out?” He signalled the waiter and paid for the meal. With y/n by his side he felt complete, like a part of him that was missing was in place, he felt content.They arrived at a park and y/n rushed off to ride the swings “ WOOO PUSH ME!” She beckoned, Wonwoo laughed while pushing her “i love her so much..”he thought to himself, without knowing he said it out loud.

“Wonwoo I love you too!” She yelled out while slowing down on the swing. Wonwoo walked up to her and smiled, Y/n looked up at him smiling shyly “ahh I’m super shy,”she said to herself.

“ahh come on now you can’t be shy after you said that~.” Wonwoo teased her. “Get up Y/nnie”he said to her.

They leaned in and kissed each other.

The END, realised I’m so bad at ending things lmao 😭 also pls ignore the messages on top i cba to remove it 😭

[sailor-aviator]

SORRY I’M LATE, I was searching for my bunny slippers and it’s dark here in your walls and none of these termites can hold a flashlight for SHIT

I wanna start with a drabble request (bc of course) for DHTN (bc OF COURSE) and I want Jake’s POV of the arrest bc we don’t actually know how that went down and I just know his thought process as he realizes he’s going to be taken away from Scout is gonna BREAK me. Also did he see Isaac as he was being led out of the saloon?????? SO MANY QUESTIONS, but hey we’re here for the weekend~

CONGRATS AGAIN ON 500 FOLLOWERS, LIZ!!! I love you so so much and I’m so proud of you!!! It’s such an honor and pleasure to be your friend 🥺❤️

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH RUTHIE. I'M SO GLAD YOU'RE MY FRIEND AND THAT I'M HOLDING YOU HOSTAGE TO WHERE YOU HAVE TO LISTEN TO MY IDEAS FOR DIFFERENT FICS.

Of all the posse members, Bob was the last person Jake would have guessed to go starting fights. Though, start was probably not the correct word to use in this case. From what Bradley had told him, a group of men had been making comments about Bunny. Something about her past in New Orleans, and the bespectacled man had not cared for their choice of words. At all.

Bradley and Jake had just arrived outside the saloon when all hell broke loose. Jake watched as Bob reared his fist back, sending it flying forward into an older man's nose. A sickening crunch sounded throughout the street, and he was scrambling forward just as the rival posse launched towards his friends.

Fists were flying everywhere, and Jake heard a woman scream as he elbowed his way through the frenzy. His heart was beating a mile a minute as his eyes landed on Javy, who was grappling with another man. Jake ran up, shoving the man before grabbing Javy's arm and dragging him towards the sidelines.

"Grab the others," he ordered, eyes darting around as he spotted Bradley already grabbing for Mickey. "Help Rooster, and get everyone out of here as fast you can, got it?"

"What are you going to do?" Javy shouted, struggling to be heard over the noise of other men joining in. Jake shook his head.

"Don't worry about me. Now go!"

He shoved Javy back towards the fray, eyes scanning the streets when he spotted Ice making his way towards the chaos, a dark haired man at his side. He searched frantically for Bradley, eyes spotting the brunette before jogging towards him.

"Get the others out of here," he told him, eyes still on the two approaching figures. "No reason for all of us to get caught."

Bradley followed his line of sight, a frown tugging at his lips when he saw the approaching U.S. marshal.

"Jake," he started, but the blond shook his head.

"There's no time," he shouted, seeing Javy lead Bob and Reuben towards the back of the saloon, brown eyes starting at him worriedly. "Grab Bob and go."

Bradley pressed his lips into a thin line before grabbing the back of Bob's shirt, hauling the bespectacled man away from the fight.

Jake stood in the middle of the chaos, watching different men fight each other. He wasn't even sure who some of these men were, but more than likely they were just men taking advantage to settle old scores.

He knew he couldn't just leave, not after it was one of his friends who started the fight in the first place. They'd come after all of them then. No, Jake would stay to give his friends a chance to flee. They'd figure something out. They always had before.

Jake's green eyes met black ones as a gunshot rang out, and a stillness washed over the street, so quiet you could hear a church mouse squeak. He focused on the devious smile that adorned Isaac's face, smug satisfaction seeping through every pore as the two men stared at each other. Jake's jaw clenched. Of course. Of course this had all been a trap.

Jake turned to watch Ice lower his pistol, holstering it back at his side as his gaze drifted over the crowd, blue eyes settling on him. He could practically hear the sharp inhale Ice gave as he looked at the younger man. He blinked before looking away.

"What seems to be the commotion?" He asked, frowning at the rest of the men gathered.

"It was the Dagger Posse!" Someone shouted, no doubt one of Isaac's lackeys. "They're the ones that started the fight! One of them is standing right there!"

Jake's shoulders stiffened as all eyes turned to him, including that of U.S. Marshal Simpson. A cry rang out amongst the crowd at the accusation, but the damage had already been done. Simpson casted an indecipherable look before making his way towards Jake.

"No, it wasn't the Daggers!" Someone else shouted. "The Hunter Posse is the one that started all this!"

"Say that again, and you're a dead man."

"It was those no good, spineless cowards in the Hun-"

"Quiet, Hanson," Ice snapped, never taking his eyes off of where Simpson stood in front of Jake. "Don't need to add your sorry ass to my list of problems right now."

Jake squared his shoulders. He knew he was caught, but like hell he was going down without putting up even the illusion of a fight. He swung his fist out, just clumsily enough for the marshal to dodge it, gripping his arm and slamming him up against the wall of the saloon. Jake winced as his arms were forced back, cuffs clicking around his wrists. Simpson grabbed him by the collar, hauling him back so hard that Jake stumbled slightly.

"Is this all really necessary?" He drawled, earning a scowl from the dark haired man.

"Yes," Simpson snapped, pushing Jake forward as they began to walk. Jake's eyes scanned the crowd for any sign of his friends. If they were smart, they'd be long gone from the scene. What he wasn't expecting to see, was you standing at the front of the crowd, eyes wide and shining with unshed tears as you watched him.

He felt his heart crack at the sight. He didn't want this. He didn't want to be the reason you cried, and you had cried more than enough over him to last a life time. He just got you back, and now you had to see him like this. Chained like a dog and paraded down the street. He stopped in front of you, trying and failing to jerk his arm out of Simpson's hold.

"Hey, sweet girl," he cooed. He cast a glance back at the marshal, who eyed the two of you wearily. "Everything is going to be alright, yeah? Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll be out as a free man before you know it."

“You shouldn’t lie to her, Hangman,” Simpson said, casting you a sympathetic look. “We all know that this is the end of the line for you.”

Jake frowned. He wanted to argue, he really did. But, just as he opened his mouth to do so, Simpson pushed him forward once more, ending the conversation. Jake supposed Simpson was trying to do you a favor in his mind, saving you from what the marshal surmised were empty promises from the captured outlaw.

He cast one last look over his shoulder at you, committing you to memory. As if he could forget. He offered you a tight-lipped smile before Ice slammed the door behind him, cutting him off from the outside world.

[winterinhimring]

This post is going to make sense to perhaps three people on this entire website but I don't care because it's entertaining me far too much for me to not write it up.

(Inspired by a conversation with @ramblingsofachristiannerd in the comments of A Lot Can Happen in Twenty Years, so warnings for spoilers on that fic if you haven't read it, though this rapidly heads off into very AU territory):

Part the First:

MCU!Adrian Toomes gets chucked into the variant of the Raimi-verse in which Why Do We Fall? and its sequels take place, during the A Bone to Pick arc of Twenty Years. I don't care how, really. Residual cracks in the multiverse or something.

He sees his counterpart, is confused by the existence of this guy who looks just like him and has something very similar to his tech, and starts following him around for want of anything else to do in this weird New York that isn't his New York. He finds the bunker lair. He hears WDWF!Adrian's 'this isn't personal, I kidnapped you for Business Reasons and might have to kill you, very sorry about that' speech to Liz.

He goes into Murder Mode because he's identified Liz as a variant of his daughter. He's not entirely sure if this Liz is this Adrian's daughter but he also does not care. He either steals WDWF!Adrian's wings or uses his own, picks him up, and drops him from...a long way up.

Then he hugs Liz. Everyone is so confused at this point. Liz is confused about why this man who looks exactly like her kidnapper has rescued her and is being all emotional about it. The henchmen are confused because they don't know if they're supposed to avenge their old (now very, very dead) boss or if they're supposed to start reporting to the new guy.

Most of the main plot has now been resolved. WDWF!Adrian's trap for Norman was never completely set. Norman and Harry arrive spoiling for a fight and find that Liz has been released, most of the henchmen have scattered, and there are two Adrian Toomeses, one very dead and one alive and very confused.

Norman is the only person here who has actual experience of the multiverse, so he's the one who works out that MCU!Adrian is from another universe.

It is very late at night by the time this happens.

The last time people managed to travel between universes this was because the multiverse was actively broken.

Norman did not have a lot of interactions with MCU!Stephen Strange, but he had ENOUGH interactions to know that a broken multiverse is a Bad Thing.

Norman shows up to 177A Bleecker Street at 2 AM, dragging Toomes by the collar, and bangs on the door until a very sleep-deprived novice opens it.

He then gives this novice the scare of his life by informing him that he needs to fetch Stephen Strange because the multiverse is broken again.

Norman, unless he is consciously turning off Cryptid Predator Mode TM, is mildly terrifying even when he's not halfway in Active Combat Mode and dragging someone who's taller and larger than him around like a grumpy flight-jacketed sack of potatoes. The novice goes.

The novice wakes up the new Sorcerer Supreme and tells him a slightly garbled story, but Stephen gathers that (a) there is an important person on the doorstep and (b) there is something wrong with the dimensional barriers. Sometimes the life of the Sorcerer Supreme involves getting woken up at unholy hours because the dimensional barriers are broken, so he accepts this with minimal grumbling.

This does not prepare him to find Norman Osborn in the Sanctum's sitting room, looking perfectly at home, babysitting a man whose existence in this dimension is palpably Off to Stephen's magical gaze. Nor does it prepare him to be greeted with, "Dr. Strange. Good. The multiverse is broken again."

It is 2 AM. Stephen was just woken up. He spends about thirty seconds grappling with the facts that: 1. Norman Osborn not only knows that magic exists, he knows the address of the Sanctum Sanctorum, and not only does he know the address of the Sanctum, he knows about Stephen. By name. 2. Osborn believes the multiverse is broken. Osborn believes that this has happened before. 3. Osborn is correct, at least as far as the fact that the man whose collar he is grasping is Not Supposed To Be Here. Stephen is not sure where this man IS supposed to be, but it is not this dimension.

Stephen sets most of this aside for later. He goes and researches spells for putting people back into their dimensions. Wong helps.

Part the Second (splitting this up because I hit Tumblr's character per text-block limit):

Osborn and his guest stay at the Sanctum, because there is no way Stephen is letting the interdimensional (maybe interuniversal, but he is not thinking about that yet) anomaly that is Adrian Toomes out of his sight, and Osborn seems to have appointed himself the anomaly's babysitter, or jailer, or whatever.

What does this lead to? Norman in the Sanctum's library.

What does THAT lead to? Norman finds out that the mystic arts are something ANYONE can learn.

Thus, I present to you: Otto Octavius and Norman Osborn, Stephen Strange's most exasperating and persistent pupils. They pick fights with him all the time (that's NOT how the laws of physics work I KNOW I can see you doing it but it IS NOT POSSIBLE I have STUDIED THIS FOR YEARS).

Look. He could try to throw them out. He could. But it would be so much less trouble to just let them be stymied by their own rigid views of the world and get fed up with their lack of progr...

KABOOM

Strange goes out into the Sanctum's courtyard. There used to be a training ground there.

There is no training ground. There is a crater.

There are also his two most exasperating pupils lying on the ground. Neither of them has eyebrows. Their robes are smouldering. "See, Norman, I told you that would work," Otto says.

"What happened here?" Stephen asks.

"Well, you see matter and energy are the same thing, fundamentally," Otto says.

Stephen has a sinking feeling.

"So Otto decided that, if the laws of physics are really as flexible as you say, he could change the one into the other," Norman finishes for his friend, picking himself up and patting out the parts of his robe that are on fire.

"And I have to admit, you're right," Otto says, picking up Norman's train of thought. "The laws of physics as we understand them are only scratching the surface of how the world works."

It is at this point that Stephen realises he has made a mistake. He has let the two stubbornest and most intelligent scientists in New York set a challenge for themselves, and that challenge is learning magic. Their rigid belief in the laws of physics has now bent just enough for them to marry science and magic to do absolutely terrifying things.

This is only going to get worse the longer they stick around.

Unfortunately for everyone, when he sits down with the masters at Kamar-Taj to discuss the fact that two novice pupils just successfully turned matter into energy and almost blew up the Sanctum (not to mention themselves), the consensus they come to is that the only thing worse than keeping Norman and Otto as pupils is kicking them out, because they know enough now that there's no way they'll stop experimenting with magic. If Stephen kicks them out for conducting half-tested molecular science-magic in the courtyard, they're not going to stop, they're just going to be unsupervised.

Please imagine: you are a sorcerer of Kamar-Taj training against a new pupil from the New York Sanctum. You are planning to go easy on him because he has only been studying for a year. Otto Octavius steps into the sparring ring with you and you wonder if he has realised that he can probably use his actuators to cast spells; if he does, he might be a challenge despite his inexperience. You cast a small energy whip at him. He flicks his fingers and fine dust sifts down to the courtyard at his feet. The energy whip never even reached him. You try to summon shields. More dust. You try an actual attack, though not a terribly dangerous one. Dust. Strange is smirking at you. What spell is this? You lose the match. You're too confused to even be embarrassed. Only after the match does Octavius (also smirking) lean over to you and explain, Matter and energy are the same thing, you see. You are not sure this has cleared anything up. You hope you never actually face this man in a fight.

(@kraytwriter I am also tagging you on this because you've expressed interest in this AU and I need more people to yell about my crack AU of my own AU with. XD)

[aaronymous999]

Watched a banger Spideypool animatic and the more I think about it the more they just work for each other? In a lot of ways it’s Black Cat and Spider-Man but it’s works better imo.

Deadpool does many morally wrong actions similar to Black Cat but the difference between them is that Deadpool actually cares about Peter Parker, but he also cares about Spider-Man because he comes to learn that they’re one in the same. Black Cat on the other hand, as much as I love her she does not give two shits about photographer for the Daily Bugle, sweet dude Peter Parker, and I do appreciate fics and stories where she does but I can’t ever see her caring for that.

Also I think it’s majorly beneficial for Spider-Man to date another super person. Him and Kitty Pryde worked for the most part in the Ultimate Universe ( most of it was dragged down by needless drama to just get Peter and MJ back together so it was a bit rough ) but I think out of all the super human love interests Wade just works the best? He can’t really die, his healing factor prevents Peter from having to be really worried about him during battle and a key aspect of the team up comic I enjoyed was that Wade was entirely willing to stop killing for Spider-Man.

Deadpool when the hot spider guy gets mad at him for killing people so he just stops because he genuinely likes this guy and idk it’s sweet.

It’s often written off as a joke ship in a way, and I have a lot of problems with how they write Peter in the team-up comic personally- ( I HATE PARKER INDUSTRIES. ) but when you really think about it they actually work really well and are pretty healthy even outside the fun dynamic that initially draws you in.

I think because of the amount of love interests Peter has, I tend to have a different favorite ship based on his age group ( of course it depends on how the writers write the love interests too like sometimes Mary Jane sucks although she gets shit on way too much for it. )

I am an enjoyer of married MJ and Peter being happy like in Spiderverse but my favorite ship from the 25-30+ era for Spidey is definitely Spideypool, sorry MJ I do love women but Deadpool just wins her.

On the otherhand his early college era? Mary Jane 100%. In High School it’s more difficult because it really varies adaptation to adaptation- like in the OG comics Betty is a good first love interest despite poor 60s views of women- in the Ultimate comics Kitty Pryde is great- in Spectacular Spider-Man Liz is wonderful- in Marvel Adventures Chat is wonderful so I honestly can’t pick a favorite because it varies so much in this period in Peter’s life.

( Also Gwen is not included here just because she’s written the most inconsistent actually imo. She’s at her best in the Andrew Garfield movies but she’s bad in the OG comics imo. She’s a mixed bag in Ultimate Spider-Man and I much prefer her as not a love interest there. In Spectacular Spider-Man she’s fine but I don’t like how they forcefully break Liz and Peter up just to get them together I hate that trope. And I consider Spider-Gwen as not a Peter love interest sooo… )