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wincore · 3 years

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atlas | kim dongyoung

pairing: doyoung x reader

words: 15.4k

summary: kim doyoung has a lot of titles. student body president, music club president, favourite student of every professor who’s blessed enough to have him. in other words, he’s not your type and never will be. at least he’s a good kisser.

or, you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and you do not know how to hold things as delicate as glass.

genre: college au, fwb au, hurt/comfort, angst, some fluff

warnings: very suggestive content, making out, language, smoking, alcohol, mentions of sex under influence, me being pretentious,,

prompt: anonymous said: slippery + doyoung + "you can rely on me, you know." from the first dialogue link! LOVE YOU ❤️

song rec(s): playlist here !

a/n: yes it’s me experimenting out of my comfort zone again. yes you are required by law to listen to keshi while reading this hahahaha anyway writing this was painful. <3 (aka today i tried writing very complex human emotions and failed again. classic.)

In the beginning, there was no beginning. Ergo, this isn’t really a thing.

You shouldn’t be thinking of summer in Introduction to Latin. You are a good (perhaps great, if your ego allows) student after all. Here you are, though, listening to the ticking of the clock and wondering if you sigh loud enough, you won’t have to construct another sentence with the word for ‘death’. You pause to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be thinking of summer out of class either. Unremarkable; that's what it was and you don’t like unremarkable things.

When two people end up alone together, there’s not much to make of.

“You know,” he had said, locking eyes. “We should get out of here.”

“And then what?”

“Fuck.”

So here’s the thing: this isn’t and won’t be a thing.

Doyoung has never been subtle when drunk, you found out, and he’s not as gentle as he looks. You flip the page of your notebook absentmindedly. You don’t like where your thoughts are going; the clinking of ice against glass rings in your ears again. It’s been far too long (one whole month) and you’re craving a bit of fun. You may forget yourself but you’re reaching your fingertips a little too far to call him again. More excuses pop up. See, in your world of perfection, there’s a hierarchy of things; men rank rather low.

(Fun doesn’t.)

Here’s another thing: you forget yourself quite often. You know very well that you’re the one who continued this not-thing and now you’re daydreaming of Kim Doyoung in class hours.

And under grey bed sheets with a tired smile, Doyoung is hard to forget.

It was a party, it always is. That time, however, was the first party of the year Doyoung and you happened to be attending at the same time. You can’t remember who hosted it—the frat probably—but it was at a bar called the ‘The Meeting Place’ which had too many people you didn’t care about. Doyoung was there, in his laid-back glory, and you were drawn in far too easily. Being single did not help your case—and the alcohol certainly didn’t. You’re not sure if it was the gentle touches against your wrist or quick words that left his mouth or the attractive all-black get-up. All you know is that it was your mouth against his by the end of the night in a small booth, hot and impatient. Once, twice, thrice and you didn’t even need parties anymore.

It’s not like you weren’t aware of what you were doing; it’s just that you were quick to give in—like you didn’t want to resist in the first place. And now, summer smells like Doyoung’s perfume.

The first night had given Mr. Student Body President a near-stroke. You weren’t the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men at parties either so the morning had been full of awkward explanations to each other till you’d kissed him to shut him up (much like in a disgusting romantic comedy, minus the feelings) and somehow, it worked. He didn’t refuse and if you recall, he’d eventually pulled you closer by the waist.

You huff, twirling your pen. He’d never admit it.

You didn’t kiss so sloppily after that, unless it was to make out against a wall or while fumbling with the keys to your apartment. The lack of alcohol can bring wonders. You were a little surprised that he’d agreed—he is the Doyoung you’ve known since freshman year after all; blunt, rude, cares more for his grades than he’d ever for you. How laughable. He’s almost the same as you.

Here’s one last thing: Kim Doyoung is not and cannot be your type.

You had the same part-time job in your second semester at a local fast food joint, and to summarize, your interactions were less than friendly. You can’t possibly count the number of times he yelled at you for trivial mistakes, and the number of times you sent angry, clipped sentences his way. So, yes, neither of you have told anyone—just acting friendly got you enough eyebrow raises. If there’s anything worse than contradicting yourself almost directly, it’s having to explain that to your friends. So, you kept it a secret and so did he, for his own reasons.

You massage your forehead. If you think any more of this during class hours, you’re going to have to classify this as a terrible, terrible problem; like you don’t have enough already. You tune in to the lecture again, hoping it drowns out the rest of your thoughts.

You tap your pen against the desk till you’re asked to stop by the professor. There goes your last resort. It isn’t the first time, but you breathe a sigh of relief at the hands of the clock. Casual means casual—you know it better than anyone. Maybe it would be easier if you could be more open about it. But you can’t. Your own problems aside, Doyoung would kill you if his reputation went down, even a nick. Men like that are so difficult, you curse to yourself.

You run into Ten in the hallways, brightening at his absurdly wide grin. In fact, you haven’t seen him remotely upset since freshman year, when he couldn’t join the dance club, not because he failed the audition but because he mixed up the dates and missed it entirely. (It’s okay; he got in the next year.)

“Guess what!” he yells before you’re even in conversation range.

“What?” you yell back.

“No, guess,” he says, when you’re close enough.

You roll your eyes. “You scored a date?”

Ten deadpans. “No. I don’t even want one.”

“Loser.”

“No, you.”

“How clever.”

Ten flicks your forehead with no provocation whatsoever, making you yelp in pain. After a minute of cursing on your part, he squishes your cheeks to bring you back to reality—like he wasn’t the cause. You bite your lip to keep yourself from scowling. His hair is still light brown from the bleach, and you fix his bangs out of habit; your dumb friends are all you have at the end of the day. You sigh. They all lean on you unwittingly.

“Anyway, the news? I’m not guessing anything else,” you warn, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Well,” he draws out the syllable. “I heard- know you’re into the smart type. You know, student council kinda guys? So…”

You choke, the coffee leaving your mouth just as quick as it entered.

“Who told you that?” The laugh that leaves your mouth is forced and certainly fake but it’s the best you can do.

Ten rolls her eyes, still smiling. “I was thinking if you would be interested in a certain Park Hyungmin.”

Oh. Student body vice-president. He’s most definitely your type, with a gifted body and equally strong academic prowess—not to mention perfectly maintained tan skin and the most radiant smile you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Oh, yeah, he’s hot,” you nod in agreement. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“He likes you. Like, totally has the hots for you. And I owe him so please help me out here.”

You furrow your brows, heaving a deep sigh.

“You...want me to go on a date with him?” you ask.

You can oblige. Park Hyungmin is the hottest dude on campus (probably). It’s a win-win situation—in fact, it’s even better. A certain bitter taste finds itself in your mouth. It must be the coffee. You swallow it.

“Yeah.”

And the deal’s done.

It was casual commitment, like most things you do for fun. You don’t think much of it, and the thought takes its final bow when you run into Doyoung himself.

Well, sort of.

You turn heel when he appears in your line of sight, pretending to fix your hair against a damn wall. You aren’t quite ready to face him yet, considering the coffee hasn’t kicked in—it’s not healthy how much you depend on it. Dependence is different, however, from consciously drowning yourself in it.

See, Doyoung is anything but tolerable without a few shots of vodka. Or after sex. Or when he’s mumbling in his sleep. And you can’t erase any of those scenes. This is you trying to save yourself (and Doyoung) from embarrassment and a whole lot of explanation.

His coat looks expensive and you’d rather he had it on instead of on his arm. The tucked-in sweater and pants combo accentuates the line of his waist and the colour—you wonder where he found a teal so fitting—looks serene in the crowd. He’s wearing his glasses though, looking a little less put together than usual. Still, no one seems to notice and he continues to explain something to his group of friends.

God forbid you find Doyoung attractive during daytime.

His lips are chapped but pink as ever, the hair messed up by either the wind or his friends—you should stop staring by now. You give in. You’ll text him to book a hotel room tonight.

Sometimes you wonder how he has that large a friend circle, and always, the question answers itself. Eloquence, wit and regrettably, good looks—what does he lack? Maybe if he lost the habit to nag people around fifty-six times a day, he’d be the perfect man.

An arm slings over your shoulder, punting the soul right out of your body.

“Fuck, Johnny, don’t do that,” you hiss, placing your hand over your chest involuntarily.

The head of the photography club apparently spends his time terrorizing everyone he remotely knows. You make a foul expression but iIt’s not like he ever minds your scowling. He says he’s had enough practice from teasing Doyoung (and you’ll admit, it’s the only time you feel sorry for him). You were certain Doyoung would have filed him for harassment sometime in sophomore year.

“What are you even looking at?” Johnny asks, raising an eyebrow at the plain offwhite expanse of the wall in front of you.

You feel hot at the neck. “I was fixing my hair.”

“In front of a wall?”

You click your tongue. “Do you not have class?”

“Oh, don’t be so quick to send me off.” He places a hand over his chest in mock hurt, fingers stretched delicately.

To your dismay, the rest of his friends gather around giving you happy greetings—greetings only carefree college boys are capable of delivering. To your further dismay, Kim Doyoung arches an eyebrow at you, the same way he does on nights you’re doing things less than appropriate to think of in broad daylight.

“Hey, Doyoung, don’t you have anything to say? Or were you too drunk to remember?”

You bite down on your lip a little too hard. Doyoung, on the other hand, looks like he’s just seen God, stammering out a “what?” nevertheless.

“Weren’t you supposed to buy (name) a drink for driving you home that night?”

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat.

Oh, he’s bought you a drink enough times. Summer has waned but whatever thread you tied around your wrists hasn’t. Right now, your guess is that Doyoung has been ensnared in the common ritual for college boys to walk around campus and declare their friend is single just to embarrass him (or by some miracle, score him a date).

Everything, apart from the way you look at Doyoung, feels like a charade. You shake your head with a quick laugh, smacking Johnny in the arm and pay your condolences to Doyoung—keep it light. You’re good at it, or pretending you’re good at it, at the very least.

Doyoung’s gaze on you lingers for a moment and then you breathe. You’re going to be late for class—you offer the classic excuse and you’re out of there. In a way, it’s exciting. You’ve always wanted to have a secret relationship, even if this isn’t a real one.

Doyoung is like the summer breeze, and you’d like for him to stay that way.

The next time you grace each other’s presence is when Doyoung’s tongue is in your mouth and his hands are running up under your shirt.

He’s quite a pretty sight—messy hair, red lips and rosy cheeks. He moans into the kiss as he has quite a few times now and there’s the lovers’ high running through either of your minds. When he presses his lips to your neck, a soft restrained sound escapes you, not quite prepared for the sting of electricity through your skin. He moves to your collarbone and shoulders and then even lower, hands gripping your waist tight. The walls do not have ears here; these hotels are cheap but they’re built for privacy and maybe you’ll let yourself believe for once that you can belong to someone.

“Why did you text me in the middle of the goddamn night?” he mutters against the base of your neck.

“You want reasons now?” you whisper, hands running through his hair.

Doyoung has pretty fingers, pressing at the right places and prettier eyes that look at you with something akin to, dare you say it, love. He kisses you like he hasn’t had enough; and it makes you feel important.

He’s even better when he’s annoyed.

You wake up at around five in the morning. Propping yourself up on one arm, you take a moment to look at your partner. It’s easy to make out the line of his nose against the pillow, and if you focus, you can see his lashes against his cheek and his dark mop of hair clinging to his forehead. However gentle the moonlight is, it is kindest on a lover.

Funny.

Too tired to sneak out, you go back to sleep.

“All I’m saying is that you have too much coffee,” Doyoung complains, slipping on his loose black sweatshirt. “It can’t be good for your health.”

You shake your head, scrolling through your phone as you lay on your belly. You’ve seen this view enough times—his back to you and sitting at the opposite edge of the bed, his incessant complaints and opinions about something that happened recently, running his hand through his hair when he sighs. You press on the calendar app and type in a note labeled ‘x’. Keeping tabs isn’t a bad thing; especially if you like order. Spending too many nights with someone is going to land you in trouble. That said, if you could trap love in a bottle, you would.

“You taste like coffee,” Doyoung adds with reddening ears.

Sometimes, it’s easy to ignore what he says if you listen to the sound of his voice instead. You sit up, scooting closer as Doyoung shoots you an alarmed look. He’s so cute like this; something about all the painted fences he puts up around him makes you want to lean in closer.

“So,” you poke his side. “How many relationships have you been in? Proper ones.”

“Three,” he answers, to your surprise.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “That’s more than I’ve been in!”

Doyoung furrows his. “How many have you been in?”

“One.”

He seems equally surprised but doesn’t probe further. After all, the price sticker that spells ‘youth’ clings to his forehead just as it clings to yours.

“How many people have you fucked?” you ask suddenly, enjoying the visible flush across his neck.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he notes, flicking your forehead.

“Ow!” You place your palm against your forehead. “Okay, I get it, you have nothing to brag about.”

He shakes his head, an exasperated sigh leaving him. “I just don’t think you have to know. I like privacy.”

“Wait.” You gasp. “Don’t tell me- That night- don’t tell me you were a virgin—”

Doyoung squishes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, a laugh erupting from your mouth.

“Who’s a virgin?”

Nothing about this, you find yourself realizing, is complicated. It’s easy, gentle, natural, like a breath of fresh air—everything but complicated. Even under dim lights and within the depths of night, Doyoung is warm and uncomplicated. His chest, his hands, his lips—they are warm, as are his words.

But Doyoung is a fucking fairytale.

Even after these few months, all you know about him, in the definitive format, is that he plays the keys for more hours than he sleeps. What he does for fun, what his classes are, how he became student body president—you could play guessing games all night.

“Do your friends know where you spend your nights?” you ask, leaning back against the pillows.

“They know what I’m doing, not who I’m with,” he responds, running his fingers through his hair.

You purse your lips. It’s nothing hurtful but you don’t like the hush-hush in his tone.

“Why not?”

“Because this is a secret,” he responds as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Do you want them to know?”

He’s right.

“Ah, whatever,” you mutter, a stream of curses following when your elbow collides hard with the edge of the bedside table.

“Your mouth is filthy.” He looks away to his phone. “I don’t swear as much.”

“Well, of course it is. I had your—”

Doyoung presses his palm against your lips with a tired sigh. “Please. Don’t speak. For the sake of my sanity.”

You smile under his hand and he returns it; and the November morning warms up.

“Where were you last night?”

You were expecting the question. Areum is the worst possible candidate for a roommate if you want some privacy. You don’t think she ever sleeps; sometimes, you wonder if she even showers because all she does is stare at her laptop screen and adjust her designs. Her lips are always chapped and her hair is always in a simple low ponytail but somehow still messy. You’ve never met someone so exhausted yet so full of life at the same time.

“Who were you with last night?” Eunji yells from the bathroom, before the two of them laugh.

You knew you shouldn’t have stayed the morning. You have the nosiest roommates anyone could (not) ask for. But they’re still your friends, you tell yourself begrudgingly. You would tell them about Doyoung if it weren’t for Eunji’s big mouth and Areum’s lack of common sense. And if it weren’t for the inherent comfort of privacy.

(Some part of you wants to keep him to yourself. You don’t care about student council president Doyoung or his friend group’s everything-regulator Doyoung or always-has-his-shit-together Doyoung. The one in your bed is the most loving.)

Areum adjusts her glasses, narrowing her eyes at you. “So? Any answer?”

You break out of your daydream at her voice, feeling a flush creep up your neck.

“I don’t have to explain anything,” you retort, snatching the coffee she brewed from the tabletop. “It was a Friday night and the two of you like Netflix more than me.”

“That’s mine,” Areum mumbles out a weak complaint.

“But don’t go out alone,” Eunji whines. “It can’t be safe.”

You laugh. “You know me. I don’t do anything too dangerous. Besides, you guys have that tracker app.”

They shrug, offering you a thin smile. A part of you is happy that they trust you but another part wonders what it would be like to be worried over. Maybe getting nagged isn’t so bad.

You take a sip of Areum’s coffee and almost spit it out right back.

“Did you add salt?” you ask, wiping at your mouth and hoping the taste disappears.

“Uh.” A reply so intelligent, you wonder if she ever pays attention to anything she's doing.

You take a moment (a few), sigh (several times) and make your way to the shelves. Grumbling, you make her a proper cup of coffee before you leave.

Classes don’t wait for you (even if you think they should) and the world doesn’t wait for you (again, you think it should wait for people) so you’ve made it a point to understand the whole deal about rules. If everyone followed the rules, it would be quite a pretty scene; messing up is only valid if it’s done prettily. You laugh at the thought. That’s near impossible. The bus ride to the campus consists of music and thoughts of bleak tomorrows—an average commute for college kids, you think. You sure hope you aren’t alone in this.

Doyoung smiles at you in the hallway today, and despite your best efforts, it makes your day smell a little fresher.

Your day: classes, coffee break, classes, complaining with Ten, assignments, ‘me’ time. For someone who pretends to be laid back, you use your planner as though for survival. There’s no sticky notes or colourful sketches (except on occasion); just good old fashioned to-do lists and a calendar marked with time you’ve spent on productivity. Every day is a list to be completed. If people call routine a man-made cage, instinct is the biological cage. You’d rather be in control of the cage you’re in. You’d rather be in control of yourself. It’s scary otherwise.

So you know how to get the job done—it’s ingrained into you the same way you would place your hands over your ears at loud sounds, or the way you would run to your bed in the dark after switching off the lights.

It never occurs to you that the reason your world is so perfect is a sad one.

Sometime next month, it’s going to snow. Not yet though, and it’s still too cold.

The inside of the cafe helps the slightest, the heaters situated far back from where you sit. Christmas decorations are up already and the combination of red and green meshes delightfully into the form of an aching headache. The wood paneling on the walls are worn at the corners, the garlands hardly covering them, and the barista behind the counter seems as gloomy as the decorations are bright. You wouldn’t be noticing all of this if you weren’t stuck in one position.

You lean your cheek further into your palm and sigh, only this time Ten asks you to, quote, ‘shut the fuck up’.

He pulls up his sleeve and reaches for another pencil. His cryptic process continues, as it has been for the past half an hour and you feel yourself getting impatient, trying to not bounce your leg and get another bout of quibbling from your half-mad artist friend. You don’t usually run low on patience; but Ten has a special pass to test drive it.

“How much lon—”

“Shh!” He hushes you quickly. You can’t remember why you agreed to being his portrait study subject but you sure as hell regret it.

Around fifteen minutes later, you take a (permitted) breath. You have neither the energy nor the neck strength to glare at Ten but you make sure to show your displeasure by snatching the cookies from the table with a particularly sour look. He gets up and pushes you to the side of the small worn-out couch offered by the equally small booth.

“God, that chair was uncomfortable. My butt is frozen solid,” he lets you know, and you roll your eyes.

“You know, if we weren’t friends in high school, I would never be friends with you,” you state.

Ten tilts his head to the side, a mocking pout over his lips. “I would die without you, (name). Really.”

You smack his arm and he yelps, smacking your arm right back. The sound attracts some attention and giggles, and you make a gagging gesture to let them know you are in way or form in a relationship. The low-volume music changes to something with a more distinguishable beat, the sound of doors opening and closing almost every two minutes accompanying. Arriving on time is an accomplishment, especially arriving before rush hour on Fridays at the only decent cafe on campus, but both of your classes end early and there is no way you aren’t taking advantage of that. Leaving, however, is mostly done when you’re being glared at by the waiters and waitresses.

“Doyoung asked about you,” Ten says, all of a sudden. “Kim Doyoung.”

You try to not show concern, but raise an eyebrow. “What? So? He’s not my type or anything.”

You bite your tongue. That was too quick a response, too obvious. Your cheeks grow hot. Ten doesn't say anything, however, and for a moment, you think you’re in safe waters.

“Are you guys… into each other or not?”

You cough, trying to show your surprise at something so outrageous. “Why would you think that? Does he look like someone who dates around?”

“Actually, he’s been on quite a few dates.”

“No way.”

You know that. He’s told you about it before, in vague references, but you know about them nonetheless.

“Isn’t one student council guy enough?” you mumble. “Why are we talking about Doyoung?”

He shrugs, a familiar feline smile on his face. “Just asking. He talks about you sometimes. Actually, we forced it out of him but whatever.”

You shake your head. “You’re all terrible.”

“You seem to like him though.”

“Who said that?”

Ten sighs, ignoring your question. “If you guys are dating—”

“We’re not.”

“—or fucking—”

“Ten.”

“—you should learn a thing or two about him. The guy’s not as annoying as he looks. Or stuck-up. He’s really nice but don’t tell him I said that.”

“I know that,” you snap, feeling warm at the neck all of a sudden. “I know him.”

“Oh, you do? Tell me what his hobbies are then. Or his major. Or the clubs he’s in, apart from the student council.”

“He- He likes to sing and he’s- he’s—god, what is this? An interrogation? I’m not going to meet his mom for dinner.”

Ten gives you an ‘I knew it’ look before leaning his elbow onto the table. “You’re sleeping with a guy you don’t know anything about. Serial killers would love you.”

You massage your forehead. “Look, I know he’s a good guy, okay? And he’s sweet- and- and—wait a minute. Oh my god, you tricked me.”

Ten lets out a snort. “Hey. Okay, look, the other guys might be dumb as shit but I have, you know, a working set of eyes. I can tell. It’s not that hard.”

You grumble but the cat’s out of the bag anyway. You should’ve known Ten would figure it out—he’s a nosy little shit, and he’s been that way since high school.

“Whatever. As long as Doyoung doesn’t start panicking about his tarnished reputation or whatever.”

“Oh, I think he’s desperate to let everyone know.”

“To you, Ten, everything seems obvious. It’s annoying.” You mess up his hair.

“No, I mean, I thought you were dating.”

“Well, we’re not.”

Ten shrugs.

“And I don’t like him,” you add. “I like the- the thing that’s going on because there’s no feelings attached.”

He looks somewhat pained, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, but doesn’t respond to your explanation. “Can I ask for a favour?”

“No.”

Ten sighs. “Come on. You didn’t even hear me out.”

“You’re going to say something stupid. Or insulting.”

“It’s neither, promise.”

You run your hand through your hair, breathing shallow. “Fine. I don’t have to agree though.”

Ten purses his lips. “It’d be better if you did.”

You hum in response, biting into the cookie and trying to ignore the glare from the nearby waitress. It’s about time you left anyway.

“Get to know him, dude. Don’t break his heart.”

“What?”

“Just kidding. There’s a party tonight. Hosted by yours truly. Finally moved out of that stinky dorm room. Bring over some friends but not more than three. And lend me some money for a juicebox.”

“That’s a lot,” you mutter. “You ask for a lot of favours.”

“Oh, speaking of which, Hyungmin—”

“He already asked me out on a date. Am I supposed to say no? You never mentioned he has such an attractive voice.”

“Oh, I’m not telling you to not go on that date. You have to, actually. I’m going to be in a lot of trouble otherwise.”

“That sounds good to me.”

“Shut up. I’m not done speaking.”

You roll your eyes.

“But if you didn’t, I could draw some conclusions.”

“What am I, your chemistry experiment now?”

“Well, you and Doyoung seem to be—”

“Don’t complete that sentence.”

“I was going to say something funny.”

Ten flashes you a blinding smile and you sigh. By now, you’re about to get kicked out of here so you stand up discreetly while he packs up his stuff. You hug your jacket close to you as soon as you leave, shivering at the evening breeze. The sky is inky, but with a faint sort of ink—deep blue and light, all at once. From the crowd, you can tell classes just got over for quite a few people, eclectic chatter filling up the street.

“Fine. I’ll bring Eunji,” you tell Ten after some contemplation. “And whoever else responds to my text first. Areum never leaves the room. You know that.”

“Thanks, (name)!” he messes up your hair. “I would give you a kiss but someone will end up punching my pretty face.”

You furrow your brows. “Well, you’re not my type anyway.”

“I’m too good for you,” he responds in a sing-song manner, waving at you before running off and disappearing into the university crowd.

There’s always a sort of buzz in the air you can’t quite describe at college parties.

Even if this is a relatively small one, you feel an oncoming headache the moment you enter Ten’s new apartment, which you’re sure had a ‘no parties’ rule in the rental contract. You spot Kun, Ten’s roommate from the dorms and he flashes you a quick smile in greeting before he’s swept up by a doting crowd. Apparently, a cute guy in animal sciences is rare and it makes him rather popular.

Eunji disappears from your side the moment she spots Johnny, and the number of eye rolls you’ve given her haven’t warned her off him yet. You suppose it takes heartbreak to change a person. Sighing, you make your way to the kitchen only to be greeted with the strange sight of Yuta trying to balance Jaehyun on his back so they can imitate some anime formation and back out immediately. Living room, it is, despite its populous space. (You don’t really want to think of bedrooms right now.)

The apartment is quite big for what Ten told you the rent was. The hallway to the two bedrooms is narrow but you suppose something has to be sacrificed for space. You furrow your eyebrows at the two bedroom doors. Ten never said he was getting a roommate. You shrug it off, sitting down on the rather stiff couch. The lack of furniture, apart from the couch and a coffee table, makes the place look even larger and people sparse. You like the beige walls; Ten’s always loved warmer colours but something makes you think he’s going to be ruining them in a few days with garish green paint before he comes crying about that to you.

“Hey.”

You look up to the familiar voice, heart rising to your throat.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Doyoung remarks before sitting down beside you and offering you a cup of god-knows-what.

“I don’t take drinks from strange men,” you say, biting down your smile and crossing your arms.

“If you didn’t take drinks from strange men, we wouldn’t be fu—”

“Doyoung!” you hiss before looking at him with careful suspicion. “Are you drunk?”

“No. A little bit. Not enough.”

You sigh. “How will you get home now?”

“I live here, idiot.”

“You’re- You’re Ten’s roommate?” you sputter.

“Yeah. New one,” he responds. “He used to live across our room in the dorms, I can’t believe I actually agreed to this.”

“I can’t believe it either. I’ve seen cats and dogs friendlier with each other than the two of you.”

Doyoung laughs. “He’s surprisingly one of the better people to room with. I’d rather eat my own blanket than room with Yuta again.”

You laugh at his irked expression, eyebrows furrowed so cutely. The line of his brow bone to nose to lips, it seems a little too perfect to belong to someone. He relaxes his shoulders a little, leaning back on the couch as he looks somewhat lost in thought. (“You think too much,” you’d told him once. “And you think too little.”) If only that were true, you smile to yourself.

“Are you sure you can hold parties here?” you as when the music suddenly rises in volume.

“Well, it said student-friendly,” Doyoung responds, looking visibly disturbed. “Not sure if I want to test the limits of that so early.”

There’s a pause, filled in with loud pop music. You don’t think Ten, your dear introvert, would have agreed to such a party but there’s a chance Johnny or Jaehyun had something to do with this. You don’t know who to suspect when it comes to their group of friends.

“I still can’t believe you’re rooming with Ten.” You look at Doyoung.

“Well, that makes, what, eleven of us, I guess?”

You laugh, feeling conscious all of sudden. Maybe you should listen to Ten’s advice.

“Doyoung,” you call, looking at the cup in your hands a little too passionately. “What’s your major?”

He looks at you with eyes widened ever so slightly, and a pause over his lips.

“Linguistics,” he answers.

“Oh. You said something about it once,” you mumble, recalling something vague about an assignment of his. “You know mine?”

“Yeah,” he answers, eyes cast on his watch.

“Well, that makes me feel a little guilty,” you mumble as softly as you can.

“You should be,” he says. “You never listen to anything I say.”

You scoff. “You just complain most of the time.”

“Really now?”

“Yes,” you snap, looking away.

You look back again when you hear the sound of Doyoung’s laugh, a distinct brightness in it. Sometimes, you wonder if you really are as awful as you’ve made yourself be.

“You’re cute,” he says. “No wonder everyone is so in love with you.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you.

“Everyone?” you laugh. You don’t care about everyone. It’s burdensome.

“Everyone. They hate you too, by the way.” He smiles to himself. “Heard you’re going on a date with that dimwit. Hyungmin.”

You feel a sudden discomfort in your being. Taking a sip of the drink, you try to shake it off as best as you can.

“Yeah, I- I don’t think I’ll go,” you say, waving it off.

Why are you lying? You left it hanging on a maybe. Part of you wants to tell Doyoung; he is your friend after all and you tell friends stuff like this. The other part tells you this is cheating; lying and pretending everything is okay—it feels like cheating.

“Oh.” He looks lost before he focuses on you. “Why not?”

“Why do you care?” you ask, trying desperately to calm the uprising in your chest.

He stays quiet for a few seconds and then shrugs, looking away from you. It makes you feel a little guilty to dismiss the situation so quickly, another item to add to your troubles. You sigh.

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right.” You can see his Adam's apple bob up and down.

“I’m not,” you say. “I’m wrong. I really didn’t mean it.”

He looks at you all at once, his gaze so gentle that it makes you think he wants to kiss you, or do something equally affectionate. Instead he sighs, downing whatever’s left of his drink before a wash of sudden looseness does away with the tension in his body.

“You have any more questions for me?” he asks, smiling. “What's it like to be student body president—or, or what instruments can I play? My favourite animal? Colour?”

You smile back. “What is your favourite animal?”

“I don’t have one. Don’t like them. Unless it’s a soft toy.”

“No way. You’re lying.”

“Now, I answer your questions and you call me a liar? Makes me a little hesitant to answer the next.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, next then. Why didn’t you join the frat? All your friends are in it.”

“Hurts my ego.”

You laugh. He’s still probably an honorary member. There is no way he’s apart from friends for too long with all those feelings of fraternity he has, no matter what he says. It’s the same as you. Affection leads nowhere though; just to short-lived moments of comfort.

You realize, through the course of the night, that you never asked. How he got into the student council, what his classes are, what he does for fun—you never asked. It’s almost like you didn’t want to know.

How sad, you muse to yourself, to be this way. To be so wrapped up in your own problems that you fail to see people around you. Pity, however, isn’t something to feel at a party. You talk with Doyoung for the rest of the night till the sound of his voice makes you feel certain ghosts of butterflies, and till you have to take Eunji home before she does something she regrets. This is what it really means to have the price tag of ‘youth’ strung across you perhaps—when you feel old and immature all at once, and in between, when you feel nothing at all.

Doyoung is too old to mistake love. Or too young.

Labels don’t define anything, especially when it comes to relationships—so even if he calls it love, whispers it to himself at midnight when he’s sitting alone on his bed while his friends are passed out drunk on the floor, it is empty. And then there’s you. The heat of your skin, the curse of your smile and that cheeky laugh you do to get on his nerves. He wants all of it and he’s not ashamed—but he’d be a liar to say he can shout it to the whole world. He’s not that kind of man, and what is his can remain his without the rest of the world prying its damn fingers in. The first night, no, the second—third? He can’t remember which night it was but something pent up in him exploded and he didn’t try to control it for once.

“Ow,” he mutters.

His throat burns from the whiskey. He hates drinking alone but you’re either asleep or with friends and he can’t think of anyone else but you. He tugs at the turtleneck collar, getting uncomfortable by the minute, and then proceeds to take off his coat.

For a moment, he considers getting back to the living room. There were more than enough people with lingering touches against his shoulder and longing gazes—they’re not you. He leans back onto his bed. Another hour and everyone will be gone; why did he even let them hold a party in the first place? Parties just remind him of you—he takes a whiff and smells summer and lemon vodka all of a sudden. A deep sigh leaves his lips.

You might not seem to find yourself especially sad, but Doyoung finds something oddly touching about you. Maybe it’s the way you say his name, he muses, like you’re desperately trying to fill the gaps. But it can’t be him in particular, of course—it’s a lover, any lover.

He hates long nights, just as he hates winter but lately, they haven’t been feeling too cold. Isn’t it ridiculous the way he’s running after you? Doyoung was never meant for this. It’s fucking pathetic and it makes him want to tear all his hair out but there he is, still and quiet in the same place. A certain agony makes its way through him. His hands are freezing and yet his insides are burning—nothing makes sense and right now, he doesn’t want it to. He presses his cold hands to the warmth of his cheeks and a laugh erupts from his mouth.

He must be going crazy to laugh like this in an empty room. The car lights from the window travel slowly from wall to ceiling, the only thing moving in the stagnant of his room.

Inevitably, he thinks of the end. It should come quick; in fact, he’s never been one to do this. He’s always been someone to get attached to people. He doesn’t know how the end will come because this shouldn’t have begun in the first place.

Doyoung’s out of breath.

“Crazy bastard,” he mumbles to himself, followed by a groan when he lifts his head up. As if on cue, the door opens and shuts with a bang. Ten walks in looking drowsy, running his hand through his hair with a disgruntled face.

“I hate to say this,” he slurs. “But you’re right. We can’t have extra furniture and parties. Gotta choose one.”

Ten lays down flat on the bed. “I vote out that ugly ass clock you bought. Why do we need it? We have phones and laptops.”

“It was a gift,” Doyoung mutters.

“Oh. Uh. Actually, someone already, uh—”

“Leave it. We’ll talk about that in the morning.”

Doyoung massages his forehead, groaning at the pain when Ten suddenly decides he’s all up for cuddling.

“Ew,” he says, scooting away from Ten. “Get away from me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Ten whines, trying very hard to pull Doyoung into a hug. Of course, his attempts are blocked by Doyoung’s palm against his forehead.

After a few more seconds of trying, Ten huffs and turns away, crossing his arms. “I don’t like you anyway.”

“I know,” Doyoung mutters.

Ten erupts into laughter, sounding more like a psychopath than a close friend of his.

“You do that every time you like someone?” he asks in between fits.

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “I just said—okay, yeah. Whatever.”

There’s a much needed silence and Doyoung wonders if he can just fall asleep without kicking Ten out.

“You should tell (name),” Ten says all of a sudden, Doyoung’s heart stopping at your name.

“What?” he whispers.

Ten looks at him as though he’s talking to a particularly stupid child. It makes Doyoung scowl but there’s too much alcohol in his system to know if he really means it.

“You don’t- you’re- everyone in this goddamn building knows,” Ten explains, exasperated. “Jaehyun knows, and he’s the densest kid I’ve ever met. God, if you like (name), go for it.”

Doyoung blushes so deep, he considers pressing his palms to his cheeks again. He thinks for the next few moments. Ah well, if they had to find out, he’s glad he didn’t have to declare it himself.

“Whatever, just ask (name) out. It can’t be that complicated.”

Except it is. You don’t have to spell it out for him—he knows the way you feel. The two of you only ever wanted one thing out of this. But if there’s something Doyoung isn’t good at, it’s keeping his mouth shut. He wonders how many times he let it slip, wonders if you even care enough to notice. God, it’s starting to sound pitiful for him.

“Ten. How much did you drink?” Doyoung asks, raising his head.

“Nothing. None. I’m not drunk.” Ten shrugs. “Just sleepy.”

A ‘wow’ is all Doyoung can respond with. He still isn’t quite finished figuring out what sort of horrific planet Ten stumbled from. A notification ding distracts him from kicking Ten off his bed and he has half a mind to toss it onto the bedside table but it’s still half. He softens almost immediately.

It’s a text from you: a ‘u’ followed by a smiley face and then a meme he can’t quite read through hazy eyes. He finds himself smiling anyway and sends a barrage of emojis, whatever he finds because he likes the way you get annoyed at them. Sighing, he decides that’s enough. He’s not in the right state of mind for conversation.

Doyoung shuts his phone off, attempts to push Ten off the bed one last time before closing his eyes and dozing off.

Not every day is meant to be fun—you know that in your twenties—but it’s still somewhat disappointing to have bad days. Like youth is meant to give you some sort of happiness daily. That’s what they make it sound like.

You groan, rubbing at your back. Sitting at your study desk for so long does not have good long term effects. At least, your temporary, meaningless assignments are done. You scowl at the text on your laptop screen; the more you look at it, the more you hate it and so, you shut it off. It’s not like your pissy professor is going to be impressed by anything you do. However, you like the orderly certainty of schoolwork.

Break time consists of guilt and sugary snacks. You’re done with most everything and you suppose leaving the final review of things to a later date can’t hurt. In fact, it sounds rather appeasing. A few more moments pass in making a decision.

You get dressed. The apartment feels eerie all alone, and you’re sure as hell not going to spend the rest of your evening here. You shiver, quickly striding out the front door and locking it before taking out your phone.

People misunderstand winter. Winter is only the end of things; and sometimes, the beginning. It isn’t cruel or crushing, it’s just taking its course. However, you have a tendency to blame seasons for all that happen in it. For instance, you shouldn’t be missing summer when you really miss the first night with Doyoung.

He picks up after calling thrice. You wonder what he’s even up to, if Saturday evenings are also booked full for such a guy.

“Why do you take so long to pick up?” you complain. “Do you not get days off?”

“I’m busy,” he hisses.

Something’s wrong.

You pause, unsure what to do. It’s not his voice but the one in the background that catches your attention.

Inviting him somewhere.

Rather sensually.

Your ears feel hot and you drop the call. Of course. Of fucking course. You’re the idiot thinking it was a thing. This whole thing is casual—feeling sorry wasn’t in the contract. Fucking around was.

It’s not like you’ll be heartbroken by something like this. Of course not. Of course. Doyoung and you never had a beginning so there isn’t an end, really. It’s fine. It’s fine. You take a deep breath and browse through your phone. With the onset of Christmas holidays, you have around three options left. Ten (yikes), Jaehyun (no way) or the latest addition, Hyungmin.

Well, you’re dressed. You have to go somewhere. And your statement about Hyungmin being the hottest guy on campus still stands.

You send two texts to the boy before deciding that’s apparently enough time waiting. He picks up after a few rings, voice groggy from what you assume to be a late afternoon nap.

“You up for a drink?” You cut to the point.

“Uh? Oh, uh, now? I am, of course- I just need—”

“Twenty minutes. I’ll text you the address.”

Nothing cheers you up like your favourite bar. Or friends. Or people who respond to calls.

Hongdae is as busy as ever. You knew the bar would be packed but not this packed. Still, you managed to grab a seat at the bar table. With the oncoming night, the smell is just going to get worse—so there’s nothing wrong with treating yourself to some lemon vodka (and its refreshing scent).

Hyungmin arrives exactly four minutes early, and the mussed up hair makes you think he must have been in a hurry. For what, you can’t be sure.

You can still see the inklings of Hongdae nightlights on his hair right before he enters, and in the fallacy of that moment, you think it’s going to be Doyoung. You sigh. This isn’t the time for that.

“Sorry,” you say, gesturing to the bar table. “All the tables were booked.”

“No, no,” he responds quickly. “I actually prefer it here.”

He’s tall, not that it’s the first time you’re noticing, but even when he’s sitting, he’s at least two heads taller than you are. His shoulders are accentuated by the mocha coat, no doubt part of the latest trend this winter. As a fashion student, he hits the mark and more.

For a moment, you feel bad for knowing his major. Ten let it slip about him and yet still, you feel guilty for remembering it. You’re not supposed to go into unnecessary detail about people that don’t matter. Does he matter?

“Surprised you could make it,” you joke half-heartedly. “Aren’t you lot always busy with something?”

He laughs. “The student council? Oh, we’re busy alright.”

Busy. Right.

“What about you? Aren’t you part of like three different clubs?”

“So what kind of busy?” you ask, ignoring his question. You’re part of two, now that you left the music club last semester. It’s not like small talk matters though.

“Uh,” he hesitates. “You know- attend meetings and events, coordinate committee work, supervise stuff, etcetera etcetera. So busy, yeah.”

“Busy on Saturdays too?” you ask, before thanking the bartender for the drinks.

“Yeah, I guess. Doyoung has it worse than me honestly. Even now, he has to take care of stuff because of me. Hah…”

You gulp down your drink making Hyungmin raise an eyebrow in concern. “Stuff? Because of you?”

“Yeah.” Hyungmin scratches the back of his head. “He’s with the girls.”

“Girls?” you ask, playing with the glass. You’re starting to feel annoyed, red lining your vision.

“Yeah.” He makes no notion of clarifying his statement.

“Must be quite the president,” you say, resting your cheek against your palm.

“Oh, he’s a nightmare.” Hyungmin laughs. “He has to control everything.”

You try to mask your scoff. You know what he can be like when you’re working beside him.

“Oh, and the guy has no sense of humour,” Hyungmin laughs, the sound easy on the ears.

You blink.

“I think he’s funny,” you say quickly. You swear you have no idea why you sound so defensive.

He hums in response and you consider biting your tongue, telling him you’re only here for one thing and forgetting the uncomfortable churning of feelings inside your chest.

“Forget I- I’m a little confused today.”

Is that an acceptable explanation? You can’t think straight enough to decide. The silence on Hyungmin’s part, however, worries you. The crowd around you fills in for the next few moments as your companion seems to debate something with himself.

“Look, I know you and Doyoung are… I don’t know, something.”

You huff in irked amusement. “God, does everyone seem to know?”

“Not until late actually.” Hyungmin takes a gulp. “He’s been acting weird. Doyoung.”

You look away, breathing shallow. You don’t like it, the way things seem to be getting out of hand. All this time, the world seemed to be in the palm of your hand and now, it’s spilling everywhere; the sand in the hourglass is already up to your knees and you don’t know what happens when it fills.

“Do you actually like him?” he asks, leaning back just a little. You know where this is going. “Are you guys dating?”

“No,” you respond, checking your watch.

“Oh.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation in him but you’ve seen that look before. You know that look.

“Then we can- uh- we can—”

“Fuck?” you ask.

He gulps. “I mean, you can say no any time—”

You pull him by the collar and kiss him, hard enough to melt away your hovering thoughts. He kisses like you expect him to, not how you want him to. You know this sort, and somehow, that makes you feel comfortable. Knowing what you’re getting into is easing but it doesn’t lessen the weight of it.

It’s sickening. The way you’re pretending it’s Doyoung.

Hyungmin pulls apart, panting heavily. “Oh, okay.”

“Tell me you drove here.”

He holds up his car keys in response.

You’re not the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men, but it’s better than falling in love with them.

So you follow a lover to a hotel room and try to feel something. Some time, when he’s kissing you against the hotel room walls, he pulls apart and asks, “You’re thinking of someone else, aren’t you?”

You know the answer; it just won’t leave your lips.

“It’s okay,” he says with a weak smile, “Let’s just have fun.”

And every time his mouth was on yours, every time you saw stars, you felt the ghost of Doyoung and his haunting touches. It was strange and unfair and unlike you—or at least, unlike the you that you built over the past few years. You feel as though you’ve misplaced something—like something was supposed to be there when you reached out but instead, it was empty space.

The night ends as it should and you leave right before dawn with an apology text you couldn’t put half your heart into.

Most winter nights, you wake up with pain so profound, it’s seeping into your bones.

It never made sense. You never tried to make sense of it. So you let the aches push you down by the shoulders, lodge itself into your neck and back; and you tell yourself, it must be what you deserve. It’s cold and you’re walking barefoot on frozen ground.

You gasp. The weight of who you are and who you have to be—it has its knee on the back of your neck, shoving you into the damp earth. There’s no particular reason to it; it makes it seem as though it’s insignificant. Unimportant. Irrelevant. But that’s the problem—the weight of the world on your shoulders makes no sense. Whose world are you even carrying? Whose approval are you trying to win? You scramble to get up, messing up your bedsheets in the process, and pull your blanket around you. Your own warmth surrounds you and it makes no difference. You frown.

You remember your phone call with your mom, and your lips tremble. You shouldn’t have told her about how crappy your finals went but it slipped. You tried to explain that you did work for them, that you gave it your best but sometimes things don’t work out. She didn’t have to say it out loud for you to hear her thoughts.

You’re disappointing.

You wipe at your eyes, feeling annoyed at the emotion. If you could let the ground swallow you whole, you would. In a heartbeat. You don’t even know what you’re doing most of the days despite that pretty planner of yours.

You get out of bed, pull on your cardigan beside the bed and grab your lighter and pack. The tiny balcony makes for a great smoking spot and while you would scold any of your friends for committing to this, you do it yourself. Hypocrite.

For all you try to shove into yourself—hobbies, student clubs, actual clubbing, friends—the more you feel less than enough, as if everything just vanishes into thin air inside you. As if you aren’t enough and never will be. You play by the rules and you lose, you break the rules and you lose.

Maybe it’s because you let yourself be filled by the intricacies of other people that they like you. And thus, you cannot stop for fear of loneliness.

Just as you’re feeling crushed again, you picture Doyoung against your back, placing his nose in the crook of your neck—something he has never done—and you wonder why it helps.

Sucking in air too fast, you cough. You shouldn’t have let it go on for so long.

It was fun—harmless fun. You shouldn’t even be thinking of taking a step in some other direction. You’re friends, barely, but you like where you are. If Doyoung was that important, you wouldn’t be going about this all backwards. You sigh, though it comes out jagged. The room is quiet and that’s the way it should be at four a.m, of course, but you crave music all of a sudden. Doyoung and you are just a temporary fix; and you let that thought relax you.

When you think of his chin on your shoulder, however, it feels feather light.

“Why are we doing this?” you ask.

The atmosphere is warm and toasty, just like you expect it to be in a bakery with light pink doors and a collection of plastic potted plants on display. The decorations aren’t an eyesore here and somehow, it makes you feel better. It’s a little far but you decide it’s worth it.

Doyoung shrugs, sipping his hot chocolate. “It’s Christmas, and we’re both here.”

Your eyes follow the hanging lights over the counter, wrapped in pine tree stickers and eventually to the neat display of a ‘Season’s Greetings’ menu, the contents of which are currently at your table. A Christmas song by some singer who’s been popular lately plays, tunes light and dancing. You hate the end of the year solely because of the extra pressure January brings. Nothing you can’t handle, of course. Nothing you can’t handle.

You sigh. It’s been a little difficult lately.

“Doyoung, really, why are we doing this?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Are you- uh- are you not enjoying this? I could—”

“No! No, it’s not that. I feel better, actually.” You bite your tongue almost immediately after. It’s not like he’s supposed to know the sort of hell week you’re having. A poorly received term paper, finals that weren’t up to your expectations, crippling loneliness without friends and, oh, the self-doubt—you are at the lowest you can be in college. The only sweetener right now is in the hot chocolate and the way Doyoung’s looking at you.

You feel something close to guilt.

“Good.” He smiles. “You seemed… You seemed a little down.”

The sliver of warmth between your ribs makes you think this is unreal. It feels uneasy to be so affected by someone but you let it slide, turning back to your hot chocolate.

“Why didn’t you go home this time?” you ask, sipping your drink.

“Oh, I didn't really want to face my parents,” he says before leaning. “Didn’t do too well this semester. And my brother’s going to be there with all his achievements.”

You chuckle in disbelief. “You don’t like your brother?”

“I love him to bits. Just can’t stand my mom’s nagging when he’s around.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” You cross your arms, smiling triumphantly. You feel like children squabbling but it’s so lighthearted, you want to laugh.

Doyoung raises a pointed finger, about to retort but nothing comes out. He puts his hand down.

“I guess you’re right.”

You shake your head. “I’m sure she’s proud of you too.”

“I know that,” he says, laughing. “Of course she is. I don’t keep myself busy for nothing.”

You gulp, a sudden sourness rising at the base of your tongue.

“Busy, huh? Didn’t know spending saturday evenings with girls also counted as busy,” you mutter against the cup, half-hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“What?” There’s a perplexed look across his face.

You wave your hand in dismissal. “Oh don’t mind me.”

“Are you talking about me giving a tour to the fresher girls?” Doyoung leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Hyungmin does that usually but Mr Man was sore from soccer practice and Friday fucking.”

You blink. “Fresher… girls?”

“What, did you think I was at a brothel?” Doyoung laughs in amusement.

You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “No! No, of course not.”

You wave your hands about for a few more seconds, trying to come up with an explanation. This makes things rather embarrassing.

“Sorry,” you say finally. “I jumped to conclusions.”

Doyoung laughs, rather deep and heartily, and you wonder if your apology really did sound as stupid to him as it did to you.

“You do that a lot,” he notes.

“Thanks,” you quip, cutting the pastry with your fork a little too forcefully. His laugh follows. (You hate it so much. It sounds like pure adoration.)

The next few moments consist of scrolling through your phones (because Doyoung says his ‘mouth hurts from talking to you’) and you would’ve been in a better state of mind if everyone wasn’t posting pre-Christmas photos with their families.

“You know they’re opening that park. What’s it called- Winter Wonderland or something. You said you wanted to visit.”

You look up at Doyoung amused.

“Let’s be honest. You want to be in bed, Doyoung,” you say. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care,” he answers, looking at you with his doe eyes. “About you. You sulk when you’re upset.”

“I don’t sulk,” you reply but your smile is obvious when you exit the cafe.

It’s like a date. The more you think of it that way, the more it makes you smile.

The evening is perfect—orange and pink and loving and happy. Doyoung trails behind you as you tread over the sidewalk with cheeky remarks about his speed.

“I’m in the track club, you know?” he huffs, finally tired of your jabs.

“As what, the start point?”

A fake, sarcastic laugh leaves him. “I wouldn’t get to see you if I walked ahead.”

You feel warmth creep up your face. You mumble, “that’s cheesy.” It’s too weak though, and it goes unheard.

For the first time, you notice his eyes are a little like yours in what they reflect. You love them.

So this is where the crowd went. The amusement park, or whatever you call it, is buzzing with a faint sort of excitement, mostly in the children that didn’t get to go on a vacation elsewhere. It’s quite the wonderland though so you can’t see them complaining.

“Do you think they’ll kick us out if we make out on the Ferris wheel?” you ask, smiling at Doyoung.

“I’m not making out with you on the Ferris wheel,” he replies, making a face.

You do end up making out on the Ferris wheel, and you get butterflies from it. It’s like a teenage dream but Doyoung looks even better. You pass on the cotton candy because frankly, you’ve had enough of sweet things. You sit at the frozen wooden seat, hoping it warms up while Doyoung brings the two of you some fries.

Your phone buzzes with a notification. Your eyes light up at the mail from your professor. You had turned in the term paper three days ago, weeks ahead of schedule and were particularly proud of the way it turned out.

You look at the email and zero in on the word ‘redo’.

Your shoulders sag immediately. You spent four weeks on that—and it’s not good enough? You search frantically for how it could have gone wrong and come up with none. That’s not supposed to happen. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong. The week’s exhaustion swallows you up again.

When Doyoung returns, he looks at you concerned before quickly setting the fries on the table.

“(name). Is something wrong?”

“Huh?” Your voice sounds so weak and squeaky, you feel embarrassed. It’s embarrassing that after all these years, you still don’t know how to handle failure.

Because it’s not supposed to happen. You tell yourself that over and over and it makes things worse.

You feel dirty, underneath all that dust and crumbled rock dangling in your hair. Whatever rests on your shoulders is cracking and collapsing, and you’re pushing in the wrong direction to make sure it all stays up.

He reaches out his hand but you avoid it.

“No,” you mutter, weakly shaking your head.

You rub at your nose and eyes, hoping you can hide behind your forearms. Doyoung shouldn’t be seeing you like this, he doesn’t deserve to see you like this. You turn away from him, your palm gently pushing against the soft material of his shirt.

Doyoung doesn’t move. Instead, he gently tugs on your wrist so you have no choice but to face him with your red-rimmed eyes. You’re not sure if it’s embarrassment or pity, but the concern in his eyes makes you cry harder.

“You don’t have to do that,” he whispers. “You don’t have to find a place to cry.”

For the first time in adulthood, you learn what it’s like to lean your forehead against someone’s chest this way. Doyoung wraps his arms around you and the sound of his breathing soothes your near-erratic heart.

“I worked really hard on it, you know?” you mumble against his chest. “My term paper.”

“I know,” he whispers.

Doyoung strokes your head delicately, fingers running through your hair with airy touches. Eventually, you let go of a final sigh and look up to his lips.

He seems surprised at the kiss but it’s all you can think of now. It’s gentler than usual and Doyoung moves cautiously though he seems to like it all the same. His arms feel comfortable around you. When he pulls apart, he looks at you yet still with careful concern.

“We can- we should stop if you want,” he says, and he means it.

You shake your head. Night is creeping in overhead, deep and quiet and slow.

“I like you, Doyoung,” you say finally. “I really, really like you.”

Doyoung’s eyes widen, as though a rabbit wary of the traps it might set foot on but he eases into your touch almost immediately.

“I like… I like you too.” His lips waver but he looks away and takes a deep breath. “I like you so much.”

You smile and think that maybe everything is set right now, with his chin against your shoulder and your arms around him.

Doyoung discards the jacket once you’re in your apartment, kissing you fuller now. Every other thought leaves you; you beg him to make you forget the rest of the world. The walls are comforting now that he’s here, and it’s warmer, hotter.

“Can we- Can we go a little slower?” you mumble, his arms still gentle when they wrap around your waist. He parts his lips from your neck to look at you momentarily before nodding.

You suddenly understand why he always makes you feel so good. There’s a certain fondness to his touch and warmth to his kisses. There’s no one quite like him, really.

“I love digging graves, especially if it’s my own,” you mutter against the pillow.

Doyoung laughs. “What did you do this time?”

“This time? Excuse me? Do you think I’m some sort of trouble child?”

“Hm. Let’s see. Yes.”

You pause. Why do you hesitate to tell him you slept with Hyungmin? It’s not like you were cheating—you weren’t dating Doyoung. Besides, that night with Hyungmin didn’t mean anything. A horrid feeling snakes around your throat, heavy and piercing. You resort to changing the topic.

“I’m… I took another course beyond my understanding.”

“That’s it?” he asks.

You nod.

No, no, no; it’s all backwards now and you don’t know how to reverse it.

Doyoung takes your hand in his, delicately and yet firm. His chest is against your back, bare and warm. When he presses his lips against your knuckles, the warmth that flushes through you makes you want to believe in something else entirely. You feel weak.

A part of you argues that you feel honest—in a moment of clarity you don’t think you deserve. Neither vodka nor whiskey can make you this clear in the head; you struggle to breathe straight. How awful it is to feel warmth and not believe in it at the same time.

“You can rely on me, you know?” he whispers.

The knot in your chest makes you want to cry.

You feel lonely and the opposite of it all at once. Doyoung is too much for you—too kind, too pretty and too true. He makes you realize too many things at once.

There are a few things in the world that can stifle loneliness. Like the notes Doyoung plays on the piano, like the songs he hums in the morning till you place open-mouthed kisses against his neck.

You realize, all of a sudden, that Doyoung really is your dearest friend.

And yet, you don’t think you deserve it. You’ve never loved, you believe, but you have. You don’t remember it well enough. The lovers’ touches you kept searching for led to this. Hypocrite. You wanted a lover’s touch and you rejected the love that came with it. What a complicated bundle of emotions. You weren’t always this way.

You loved your first cat when you were six, all the way till it died a warm death in your bed. You loved your mother even when she yelled at you for skipping your chores. You loved your middle school friends when you talked about comics and movies you saw for the first time.

It’s hard to love the same way now.

You suppose sympathy needs a little backstory. Nothing is unconditional.

It had all started when your heart had broken into two clean pieces. You put a bandaid on it and called it a day. No one taught you to ask for help.

Your friends know someone broke your heart; you tell them everything. Friends, friends—you wanted them so bad and yet, you keep them as far from you as you can. You pretend to be paper-thin and so shallow, sometimes you wonder if that’s all there is to you. But for all they know, they know next to nothing. It wasn’t just the aftermath of reckless puppy love.

The first time your heart broke, it was watching your mother cry in the living room for a reason you didn’t understand. You wondered who committed the crime, who should be charged—and you found no one. A loveless marriage is cruel, yes, but you cannot point fingers. It isn’t just cruel; it’s infuriating.

The second time, the two pieces of your heart broke into a few more. It was a boy with an inviting smile and flags whose colour you couldn’t quite discern. They must have been red, but everything else was too—hearts, cheeks, lips, and the threads around your wrists. And eventually, he guided you to the conclusion that you are undeserving, unworthy, unloved.

You were strong, however. It was easy to collapse on the bed and feel the weight of the world settling in, but you stood up again on shaking knees and you told yourself to have fun; you can have fun without feelings. You know better than to attach meaning to fun—you might hate insignificant things but it’s only fun if it’s pointless. You’re not letting go of this place you’ve worked so hard to arrive at, with all the shattered pieces in your hands.

It’s better to offer nothing at all than offer broken pieces.

“Can we stay like this?” Doyoung’s arms tighten around your waist, his breath shallow against your shoulder. “Just for a little bit.”

His voice is beautiful as always, but for a moment, it strikes you as sad.

Everything’s twisting up into knots and you are frantically running your fingers over them to straighten it all out. You know what it’s like to let things rot; and you are tired of it. Why can’t everything disappear for one moment? Why can’t you just let it be the two of you?

You sigh in response, nodding.

“I might not know what’s happening in there,” he starts, drawing circles on your chest with his finger, touch comfortably light. “But…”

I’m here and I get it.

Is that what he wants to say? You don’t think you’ll get to know. You’re not exactly voicing yourself either.

Stay the night. You want to say it but your lips are frozen.

Instead, you rub your thumb over the back of his hand, fitting into each other as perfect as a lie. You would tell him, you try to convince yourself, if you could say it with enough conviction. There’s no point to saying things that are half-meant, that are true but only just enough. You’re a coward.

And now, this has gotten complicated.

An end.

Tapping his pen against the desk, Doyoung grows increasingly annoyed. The council's next meeting agenda isn’t going to finish writing itself but he can’t bring himself to either. Besides, Ten’s pacing outside his room is starting to get on his nerves.

“Ten!” he yells. “Can you quit it? You’re making too much noise.”

His disapproval is met with silence. For a moment, he spaces out and reflexively thinks of you, only to feel a confusing sort of emotion. It’s normal, he tells himself, and that it’ll sort itself out.

Doyoung feels like a glass box more often than not. If he breaks, who picks up the pieces? Who gets cuts all over their fingers?

‘Whoever breaks him’ should be the answer. But that’s wishful thinking. It’s not that simple.

He’s so see-through that it’s painful. He used to tell Taeyong he’s wrong but he’s never been able to prove it. He is easy. It’s embarrassing.

But then again, part of him likes it when it comes to you. He likes it when you kiss him after a particularly heated disagreement, he likes when you get on his nerves just so he’d fuck you and most of all, he loves the push and pull. Fun is just that. He doesn’t know what he’d do if that heart of his he placed so gingerly into your palms falls and shatters.

The line between hate and love is thin; and he’s enjoying walking it too much.

He has nothing to offer but himself. He laughs at the thought and shakes his head. It’s somewhat dirty, and not just in the sexual sense.

“Ten!” he yells again. “Stop pacing!”

Getting up from his seat, he strides over to his door, swings it open and finds Ten scratching his head and glancing at his phone in repeated action.

“Ten?”

He’s so in a trance that he hasn’t noticed Doyoung. He is the lovable sort of idiot if he ever chooses to be so. Most of the time though, he’s just a smartass.

“Oh, oh no, I’m a bad friend,” Ten mutters to himself, his pacing growing more restless. He scratches the back of his head, eyebrows furrowed and too inside his head to notice Doyoung. He wants to ask but something tells him he shouldn’t.

Turns out, his apprehension isn’t strong enough these days.

“Whose date did you crash?” Doyoung asks, more than annoyed already.

When Ten looks at him, Doyoung feels rather shriveled and freezes on the spot. Call it instinct but Doyoung respects fear and pain. Ten has a mixture of the two, amplified when he looks at Doyoung.

“Doyoung. Hey,” he says, trying to tone down the distress in his voice.

Doyoung still hasn’t recovered from the initial surprise of Ten looking that way.

“Did you fuck up? Did someone fuck up? Why do you look like that?”

Ten sits down on the small couch. “Long story… I guess. Too many details, you- you know? Just—”

“What the fuck happened?”

Ten still can’t look him in the eye. “The group chat’s a little…”

“Ten,” Doyoung snaps. “Cut the crap.”

“No, that’s- that’s what I’m- You’re going to be upset.”

Doyoung straightens, furrowing his brows. “I think I can fucking handle it.”

“You know that date I set up for (name) and Hyungmin?”

“You set that up?”

“(name) slept with Hyungmin.”

Doyoung quietens. The silence seems to make Ten uncomfortable as he shifts in his seat, getting up when Doyoung speaks.

“So?”

Ten blinks. “You’re not upset?”

“Just what kind of loser do you think I am?” Doyoung mutters.

Glass shatters just that easily. Maybe he wanted you to shatter him. Maybe he was already cracking at the edges.

“Doyoung, you don’t have to—”

“Stop,” he exclaims a little louder than he intended. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m a grown man, I can handle shit like this.”

It still hurts though. You lied to him and he let you in. You lied to him. Doyoung sighs, returning to his room with a realization he should have had long ago. His night ends with more deleted drafts than he’s supposed to have and eventually, with increased discomfort, he delegates the job to Park Hyungmin himself with the excuse of sickness.

Doyoung does feel sick. He felt this way once, in highschool, but it had turned to red, hot anger ready to lash at anyone and everyone, spilling from his lips as easy as it was to breathe. And Doyoung can never feel that way towards you. He was different back then too, of course, but you—you’re unlike anyone he’s ever met. He loves the comfort of you, and something like that is hard to come by.

He feels like laughing again but instead he finds tears on his cheeks. Silly boy, he can hear his mother tell him. You don’t give your heart to heartbreakers.

So Doyoung falls asleep to the sound of upbeat music in his earphones, music he hates even just to pass the night. Morning will come and he will have to become stronger. Comfort is fleeting, after all.

With everything said and done, you know very well that if you were to tell someone you love them—genuinely, truly, from the heart—it would be Doyoung. It’s not a sudden realization, like the sky falling apart or a tidal wave crashing against the shore and sweeping away the city. It is like the gentle lapping of water, though, or the way the clouds change shape—natural and anything but alarming. You want to stare at it forever, and you want to believe that’s how it will be forever.

“You told everyone we had sex?” Your voice is boiled to a shout.

Hyungmin looks torn, lips moving but no explanation making its way out. “I- I told my friends, not everyone.”

“And you forgot that your friends talk? Everybody talks, Hyungmin, what were you thinking?”

He sighs before taking a step towards you. “Why are you so angry about it? As far as I remember, you had no trouble talking about whose pants you got into.”

You scoff. “With friends, not the whole campus.”

“That’s exactly what I did!”

You cross your arms, feeling so upset you might cry and unsure as to why. You’re usually good at dealing with stuff like this, keeping things in the right place.

“It’s because of Doyoung, isn’t it?”

You snap your head to Hyungmin. There’s a serene sort of look to him despite his unkempt appearance, and a look of understanding.

“I’m sorry. Really. But if you were so into him, you shouldn’t have called me that evening. It might not matter to me but…”

You broke his heart. All that devotion he had towards you led to this.

“You’re right.” You choke on your words, leaning against the wall. “Fuck… Fucking…”

You turn around, making your way out of the hallway and hope the tears on your cheeks dry faster if you run.

You can’t remember the last time you ran. Your world didn’t need running from, it was right in the palm of your hands. Now that you look back, the world was always on your shoulders and heavy as it can be. Maybe you liked it—the weight. You could’ve shrugged it off any time; you didn’t need all those caging schedules or careful, elegant steps.

No. Atlas couldn’t shrug because his punishment was his existence. To have weight is to have meaning; and that is how you intended to live out your life.

Doyoung makes you see it differently. To love so fully even if it seems cautious—you, who has never loved at all, couldn’t comprehend it. And because he makes you see it differently, the box is now open and all hell is loose.

For once, you don’t want to live in the world you crafted. You want more love, more hurt and you want to open the doors. You don’t mind hell if it’s for him.

You ring the bell to Doyoung and Ten’s apartment and pray the news hasn’t reached him yet. He said he was busy this weekend; maybe he was detached enough from his phone for once. You just want to be the person to tell him. It’s not a perfect apology otherwise.

Doyoung opens the door with pursed lips and cold eyes. There’s a sense of ease over his shoulders and arms but he won’t look at you and panic rises to your throat.

“We’re not fucking tonight, (name),” he says.

“That’s not- That’s not why I’m here.” Your voice is so meek, you wonder what happened.

Doyoung steps back, crossing his arms. He’s still looking at his feet and you feel the urge to reach for his face.

“I wanted to tell you- I… I just—”

“That you’re fucking other people?”

“God, Doyoung, stop with the fucking. I don’t care about that right now.”

“Really?” His voice is so sharp, it digs into your skin. “You were just in it for that. That’s the fun part in your stupid life, isn’t it?”

You feel a sharp pain in your nose and forehead. “You’re- Now that’s- Doyoung. I’m sorry. That’s what I wanted to say.”

“After—” His voice chokes up. “After everything is done? Stop with the excuses and face it for fuck’s sake. You aren’t made to fall in love. That’s why you dance around it all the time.”

Although he says that, he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds defeated.

“It’s not like you aren’t cautious,” you retort, throat feeling heavy. “You said it yourself- you don’t want to care too much.”

“I was wrong,” he says, voice hoarse. “I care about everything more than I’d like to admit. I care about you more than I’d like to admit.”

“The Hyungmin thing didn’t mean anything, okay? You were busy and—”

“So why did you lie?” He strains to not raise his voice. “Of course I knew our little thing didn’t mean shit to you. Why did you pretend it did? Last week, you said- you said—”

“Doyoung, last week- last week I- I wasn’t pretending, I swear.”

“You could’ve just saved yourself the trouble and the dignity.” A short, humorless laugh leaves him.

You feel your lips tremble, the explanation not quite made its way out yet. He looks so innocent like this, rabbit-like eyes watery and full of pain, pure the way they have always been. This is your mistake, isn’t it?

“Doyoung, please,” you manage to say. “That was wrong. I couldn’t clear up my head. Please don’t—”

“No. I was an idiot. Or you see me as one.” He frowns deeper, lips trembling. “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have. We shouldn’t have been at the same fucking party and I shouldn’t have drank so much. You’re- I’m not that kind of person.”

You bite down your lip. “What kind?”

Doyoung laughs, the sound raspy and empty. “The kind to not fall in love with you.”

It damn near breaks your heart to look at him. You have to say something, it shouldn’t end like this. You’re desperate and all you think is that you don’t want it to end at all.

“Please, I thought of you as a friend, that’s why—”

“And this is what you call being a friend?” he cuts you off.

You feel the sting in your eyes and nose, making you turn sharply to the side. You wish he’d just make you cry. It makes you feel the rancid guilt all the more.

“Make Hyungmin your friend for all I care. Let’s stop this.”

You stare at your feet, unable to respond.

“You can have every boy in the world, (name). Don’t come to me.”

“Can you just stop talking about everyone else?” you yell, desperate. “Do I talk about your exes? Seungjae or- or what’s-her-name—”

“That’s different!” He looks distraught, breathing heavily and with a painful red flush over his nose and cheeks. He runs his hand through his hair, tousling it further. “You lied to me, (name). You lied.”

Your cheeks are wet and the look that flashes over Doyoung makes you think he wants to step right out to you. He stays frozen in place, however, looking away to the side.

“Did you notice?” he asks softly. “Even once? How much I cared?”

You can’t answer, letting the tears drip down your face. It’s getting colder and colder.

Doyoung bites down his lip before parting them. “All we did was have sex anyway. So please just- just leave.”

You take a long few moments but nod, hugging your coat closer and stepping out of his apartment. You think you hear Ten’s footsteps but it’s followed by the bang of a door—this is how it ends then.

The line between hate and love is thin; and you are deserving of neither.

You perfect your next semester’s academics, and the next. It still feels empty. You go out to drink with friends and return to a messy bed you sleep in alone. You smile as always and you laugh as always. No one asks you how you are as always. You never needed anyone to ask you how you are.

Ten tries but you push him away. You don’t need to drag in other people into a mess you made. He feels sorry for the whole thing but you tell him it was you that spilled the paint, Ten just handed a dash of it to you.

You were right. You don’t deserve Doyoung. At least, you made it so that you don’t deserve him.

‘It’s better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all’—it still hurts.

Every day is part of a list again. You doodled in some of the pages, when you thought you were starting to fall in love. There’s only a skeleton of it left now. Soon, you’ll let it crumble to dust too.

You tear apart the planner sometime after graduation and cry and curse at yourself for doing that. No one’s good at parting with things they care about. You’re no exception.

It’s December again.

This place is a little strange to visit right after graduating, especially with the memories flashing you by. Johnny said he booked one of the private booths (“A senior’s treat!”) but you feel your steps growing hesitant when you reach the neon signs by the stairs. It spells ‘The Meeting Place’ and smells of cigarettes just like it did the first time.

You stop midway up the stairs. For a moment, you think of Doyoung sitting there and wonder if you’ll ever be able to talk to him again. If you had the chance now, would you take it?

Of course, you wouldn’t. There’s too much to be set right and you can’t do it.

There’s supposed to be the six of you. Johnny mentioned Ten and you know Eunji’s invited too. You saw Jaehyun on the way here, still a student. You sigh. It must be him, the one they failed to mention to you. Kim Doyoung. There’s no one quite like him.

You spot him first. Looking a little forlorn as he gazes absentmindedly to the side, he faces away from you and you get the inevitable urge to run away. It’s a funny feeling.

Your stomach is churning. You don’t want him to see you. Ten babbles on about something to Johnny, smiling like he found candy while clearing his drawers. Eunji looks tired, leaning against Johnny’s shoulder and you wonder if she already drank more than enough shots.

“(name).”

You jump at Jaehyun’s voice from behind you.

“Hey,” you respond, giving him a wide smile.

He hesitates. “Are you okay? Not that you don’t look okay- you look really good actually. I mean, are you and… you know okay?”

“I don’t think so, Jaehyun,” you say and make your way to the booth.

It’s a little cramped for the six of you and Doyoung gets up before you can even greet him. It’s not like you deserve it anyway but it tugs at the wound.

“I’m going to go take a drag,” he mutters.

“You don’t smoke,” you say, looking up.

He stares at you momentarily and you look away. You think Ten and Johnny glance at you with pity but you don’t really care.

“Can I come with you?” you ask, barely a whisper.

“Sure,” he says, to your surprise.

The smoking area is so small, you’re surprised it’s even there. A glass structure overlooking the neighbourhood, there’s barely any light within. The only thing nice is how warm it’s in there.

Doyoung lights his cigarette and then offers to light yours. It’s quiet, the music from inside numbed to the cold doors. You really can’t take it. You stub the barely consumed cigarette and throw it into the bin.

You’d rather just stay quietly in his presence.

“You’re not smoking,” he notes.

“It’s a bad habit.” You look out through the glass.

Doyoung chuckles. “You were a collection of bad habits.”

“And good ones too,” you quip. “I was a perfect student. I was perfect in most everything actually.”

Doyoung’s smile widens. “You were. You certainly were.”

A few more moments pass in silence, your eyes traveling over the outside scenery which seems to be growing duller by the second. City lights have never felt fainter.

“It was an accident, right?” You say suddenly. “The whole thing? Us?”

Doyoung hums. “Yeah. I fell in love by accident.”

You smile weakly. “Right. I never got to apologize.”

“I loved you on purpose.”

You look up at him. There’s not a lot of people who say what they mean. He looks the same as he used to under your grey blankets, with a warm blush over his cheeks and kind, wide eyes.

“You’re so damn pretty,” he murmurs, “even now.”

You scan his face for signs of lying.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” you ask finally.

Doyoung blinks before easing into laughter. “You- You’re- You’re the same as ever.”

You let yourself crack a smile.

“Doyoung I- I really am sorry,” you say quietly. “And I did- do care for you.”

Doyoung stubs out his cigarette and discards it before looking you in the eye. You notice he’s wearing his favourite black turtleneck in the proximity, the grey plaid coat covering most of it. You really liked that look on him.

“I’m sorry,” you say once again. “I want you to know that. I didn’t want to hurt you and I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

You mean it. You’re never going to hold glass again. He doesn’t deserve it.

“That’s a problem,” he responds, breath mingling with yours. “I want you… I want you to hurt me. If you really do love me, I’ll take it.”

“Doyoung,” you whisper, turning away despite your whole body screaming at you to give in. “I meant it. I can’t hurt you.”

Doyoung cups your cheek with one hand, glancing at your lips for a moment.

“You’re warm,” he says.

He’s warmer.

“I want to kiss you,” he says.

You want to kiss him too.

“We went about this all wrong, didn’t we?” he asks.

“We did,” you answer, voice barely above a whisper. “I did.”

Doyoung pulls back. “Then let’s start again. I’m Kim Doyoung, I majored in linguistics. I was student council president and I made a mistake.”

You smile. “We don’t have to do that.”

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “After all the trouble I went through to make a good introduction?”

The two of you laugh, and it gets warmer.

“I’m (name),” you say. “I was a top student and I made a bigger mistake, Kim Doyoung.”

“Oh? I wonder what it was.”

“Kind of a long story.”

“I’ve got all the time for you.”

You smile and start. He responds with gentle kisses. You’re piecing your world back together again; but this time it’s feather-light and fits right in the palm of your hand.

2K notes · View notes

zhanyes · 3 years

Text

Tianshan dating headcannons because i also love these two dumbasses too

Also dedicated to @el-mundo-real who requested tianshan headcannons 🖤

. . .

- Literally no one knows whether they’re dating or not. Not even themselves because they don’t talk about it

- Jian yi thinks they’re dating already and Zhengxi says they’re still getting there (somehow they’re both right) and they make a bet

- He tian likes staying over at Mo’s and he’s gotten pretty close to mama Mo

- Mama Mo teaches him how to knit !! He tried to knit a scarf for Mo but it came out a little messy and tangled. Mo still wears it anyway saying it’s a waste of yarn if not used (He’s actually really touched)

- He eats dinner there about 5 times a week and sleeps over thrice a week. He’s a permanent fixture in the house now, he has his own plate and mug, utensils, toothbrush, a spare key, and more than half of his closet migrated to Mo’s closet

- Sometimes Mo “accidentally” wears He tian’s sweaters and He tian dies a little bit every time

- Sometimes He tian deliberately wears Mo’s clothes and it’s always tighter and a bit shorter on his body so when he moves his arms the shirt rides up. Mo guanshan shouts at him to change and to stop contaminating his clothes but his ears are red anyway

- They bicker A LOT. Over the smallest things because He tian loves riling him up and Mo gets riled up too easily

He tian, for the 7th time in 5 minutes: “What does this thing do?”

Mo guanshan, losing his mind: “THAT’S A FUCKING MICROWAVE WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK IT DO?!”

- There are times when homicide is the best option

Mo Guanshan: “I acknowledge that I can be mean sometimes-”

He tian, in the bathtub: “Sometimes?”

Mo Guanshan: “Shut the fuck up. So I brought you a bath bomb as a peace offering.”

He tian: “That’s a fucking toaster.”

Mo guanshan: “Exactly. A bath bomb.”

- Contrary to what his actions say, Mo guanshan is actually relieved that He tian spends most of his time in their apartment. He tian never told him but he can see how lonely the other teenager is

- Mo guanshan tries to teach He tian chores because He tian knows nothing about cleaning or doing everyday things

Mo guanshan: “How the fuck do you not know how to wash dishes where the hell do you eat?!”

He tian, drinking milk straight out the carton: “Obviously on plates, Momo. I just throw them away after.”

Mo guanshan, sputtering: “WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU THROW OUT PLATES?!”

- The first and only recipe that He tian managed to cook successfully is instant noodles with boiled egg that’s not quite cooked enough. Sometimes he brings Mo noodles as breakfast in bed and he looks so proud of it Mo has a hard time saying that the noodles are overcooked and that noodles aren’t exactly breakfast food (he eats it anyway)

- Mo sometimes, only sometimes, brings He tian grocery shopping because he needs to learn how to buy food for himself. Somehow He tian always ends up in the miscellaneous section where he has a pack of ballpens he’ll never use, 2 journals he’ll also never use, a couple of scented candles, various dog clothes and leashes for the dog he doesn’t have, a couple’s mug, and a vase in his cart

- He tian stopped trying to barge into Mo guanshan’s bed and sleeps on the futon on the floor beside it. It’s not the most comfortable and he had a hard time sleeping on it at first but he likes being in Mo’s company even while sleeping

- Sometimes Mo would move in his sleep and leave his arm dangling on the side of the bed, He tian grabs it of course and Mo wakes up to sweaty palms. He still leaves it for a few moments before harshly slapping away He tian’s hand

- Mo’s hands aren’t smooth at all because of working all the time and practicing the guitar but He tian loves them all the same. He likes to feel the contrast in textures with his slightly smoother hands

- He tian has a thousand pictures of Mo guanshan sleeping in various angles and poses. He has his favorites framed and keeps it on his bedside table in his apartment so when he’s sleeping there he still feels like they’re sleeping together

- Mo guanshan has a few of He tian sleeping but he swears up and down that he'll never do anything as disgusting as that. He makes one of them his wallpaper.

- Sometimes when they don’t feel like sleeping yet they stay up talking and arguing about random things

Mo guanshan: “Why would aliens be in space? The ocean is definitely the way to go.”

He tian: “But why would they be in the ocean? They’ll drown.”

Mo guanshan: “They’re aliens maybe they have gills or some shit.”

He tian: “I’m telling you they’re not in the ocean, Mo.”

Mo guanshan: “And I’m telling you you’re wrong, bastard.”

- On rare days they would stay up talking about their pasts and about life in general, with the lights closed and the only source of light is the moonlights from the window

- One of these nights, Mo told He tian about what happened to his dad and their restaurant, why they’re in so much debt over it and He tian holds Mo’s hand tightly throughout

- He knew better than to say that he could pay for that debt so Mo doesn’t need to worry anymore (He still says it anyway and Mo blew a fuse) but he swore to help Mo through other means

- The next day he orders a whole carton of mangoes, apples and peaches in his apartment and learns how to peel properly through youtube and Zhengxi

- He goes to Mo’s part time job in the grocery and helps him peel fruits, Mo guanshan doesn’t mention anything when he notices the bandaids on the other’s hands but he does cook him beef stew for dinner

- As expected He tian’s presence brings more customers and the manager asks if he wants to work there permanently but he said he’s only working for Mo so the manager can give Mo a raise instead

- Once, Mo got sick so he missed his part time job for the day (He was supposed to give away flyers on the streets) and got extra pissy because He tian didn’t visit him and wouldn’t answer his phone

- Apparently He tian took over his job for the day and he only finds out when he goes to the manager and the manager asks when his ‘boyfriend’ can come back to work again because the customers love him

- He tian almost never talks about himself but once he talked about the puppy who disappeared after he saves it and then found out that it’s still alive after all these years

- Mo keeps quiet about it the whole time he was talking and the next few days he takes time to knit a small dog plushie and leaves it on He tian’s futon

- He tian didn’t cry, he didn’t (he did), but he hugged Mo and whispered a sincere thank you. For once, Mo lets it happen

- Mo quickly regrets his decision when He tian names the plushie “Chicken sandwich”

- He tian brings Mo in a lot of not-dates (according to Mo) like arcades, ocean parks, festivals, and fairs because he didn’t get to go as a kid and he wants to experience it for the first time with Mo

- They get crazy competitive in every game. Every. Single. One. If it’s a co-op shooting game they would compete on who kills the most enemies, if it’s a harmless crane game it becomes a competition of who can get the most plushies

- They both each have a photobooth strip. Mo keeps his as a bookmarker in a journal, and He tian has his in the back of his phone.

- They go on a double not-date with Jian yi and Zhengxi and it ends up in almost getting chased by a police car at 2 am in pokemon onesies and holding a bag of chips

- Sometimes Mo would visit his dad in prison and just rant to him about He tian

Mo guanshan: “The nerve of that guy to do something like that in front of a teacher urgh.”

Papa Mo: “Your boyfriend sounds like a fun guy, son. I want to meet him soon.”

Mo guanshan: “BO-BOYFRIEND?!”

Papa Mo: “Yes???”

Mo guanshan: “No??? That bastard isn’t my boyfriend??”

Papa Mo: “Are you sure about that?”

Mo guanshan: “...Yes?”

- Enter gay panique because he doesn’t actually know whether He tian is his boyfriend or not

- They don’t call each other boyfriends and they never talked about it so no??? But they’re also not just friends so maybe??? Do they go on dates?? Can grocery trips be considered dates??

- He rings up Jian yi and the blonde just laughed for 5 minutes straight without stopping and he wonders how he’s still breathing

Mo Guanshan, after hearing Jian yi laughing for 5 minutes: “Are you fucking done?”

Jian yi, trying to catch his breath: “Man this is some top-tier entertainment.”

Mo guanshan: “WELL?!”

Jian yi: “Look bro literally no one knows whether you’re dating, fucking, planning each other’s murder OR planning a murder together.”

Mo guanshan: “What if it’s all of the above?”

Jian yi: “Then congratulations…? Please don’t murder me?”

Mo guanshan: “Urgh you’re fucking useless I should have called Zhengxi.”

Jian yi: “Wait don’t, I don’t wanna lose the bet. How about this, there’s a festival upcoming for couples and families, if He tian asks you then you’re probably, maybe, dating?”

Mo guanshan: “That’s stupid. AND WHAT BET?!”

Jian yi: “Ah woops gotta water my dog.”

- Mo tells himself that it’s stupid and there’s no way he’s falling for that...but he feels disappointed anyway when He tian doesn’t ask him the following days

- He tian asks on the last day before the festival, but he asks mama Mo first and Mo guanshan second cuz he wants to celebrate with both of them. He confessed that he’s never actually went to a festival with a family before so he was trying to build up courage to ask

- Mo guanshan is an absolute goner after that

- On the day of the festival, they find Zhanyi there on a date but decide to leave them alone. While they were leaving Jian yi kept throwing Mo guanshan so much winks that Zhengxi thought he got something in his eye

- The festival was fun but Mo couldn’t take his eyes off how happy and content He tian looks

- Queue cliche fireworks scene but it’s He tian being amazed by the fireworks and Mo looking mesmerized at him thinking, “Ah, I want him to look at me like that.”

- The next day, he drags He tian to visit his dad in jail

Papa mo: “Oh this is a surprise, you’ve never brought someone before?”

He tian, trying to introduce himself: “Hello, sir. I’m He tian, Mo guanshan’s fri-”

Mo guanshan, cuts him off: “Boyfriend. He’s my boyfriend, dad.”

He tian:

#19 days #19 days headcannons #19 days hc #tianshan #mo guan shan #he tian #zhanyi #jian yi #zhan zheng xi #am i procrastinating updating my fics and 19 days socmed au by posting random 19 days stuff?#yes yes i am #old xian

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xoxo-teddybear · 3 years

Text

Whatever Katsuki Wants - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!Reader

Warnings: ANGST, violence, blood, cursing, lowkey little yandere Bakugou, smut, toxic relationship

Request: can I get Bakugou comes across a criminal on one of his bad days and he goes straight feral with an insane satisfied smile as he beats the shit out of them till they die. (Dark Ik, sorry😂) but as he beats the man, a video is taken of the scene and instead of posting it the anonymous person sent it to quirkless!FemaleReader. How would that play out?

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

“Fucking hell!”

Bakugou ran through the dark city chasing an annoying ass criminal. It wasn’t even a villain per say, more like a petty thief wanting to ruin someone’s day. His day. Now usually, the number 2 hero wouldn’t be pursuing this type of crime, but the damn prick ran into a bank, held hostages, and got away with over 5 grand.

The pro was already have a pissy day from the second he woke up. He couldn’t wake up next to his Teddy Bear because you had to visit your parents for something that started before even Katsuki had to wake up, then he burned his breakfast because a damn bird flew into the kitchen window, he was late to work and got put on night patrol, he probably wouldn’t get to see you when he got home before you knocked out because you also had a night shift, and now this.

Every second that passed caused his damn blood to boil. He was mad at....well, existence. Not his, just existence in general. For everything. He was so close to catching this damn bastard that when he finally pounced the guy, he didn’t realize there were footsteps coming his way.

Bakugou pinned the criminal to the ground in an alleyway and completely disregarded his quirk. He needed to take his anger out on something and this poor man happened to be in his grip. Bakugou threw punch after punch, kicked the man in his stomach until he coughed up blood, he stomped on the man’s head, threw him against a wall, etc. He ended it with a strong and fiery blast at the unconscious body. Finally, after 2 minutes of silence, Bakugou began to sinisterly laugh. A psychotic laugh with a crazed look in his eye. He was hunched over with his arms loose as he walked towards the dead man, picking him up by his skull.

“Sorry buddy, you caught me on a bad day,” he laughed out and whispered into the lifeless body’s ear. He threw the body into a pile of trash cans before walking out of the alleyway. When he turned the corner, he took notice of a trembling civilian, holding a camera at him. “The hell?! THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT DAMN CAMERA?!”

Bakugou barked at the random person with devil eyes before sending a blast to the phone. The person ran away screaming, pissed at the hero for doing that. To be petty, the “extra” (as Bakugou would say) wanted this video to be exposed. Not to the media, this person wasn’t cruel enough to destroy someone else’s career, but he wanted to send it to someone to have the hero learn a lesson.

Now it was no secret that the pro was in a relationship. In an article, it was revealed that the two of you had been together for the past 4 years. With that in mind, the damn hacker found Dynamight’s longtime girlfriend’s number and sent the video her way.

—

At Bakugou’s nice home, his perfect little oblivious girlfriend hummed a tune to herself as she made some spicy curry for her precious Suki. Now it’s not that Y/N was dumb. She was actually very intelligent. But when it came to Katsuki, she was just a cute little “housewife” that loved him.

Flashback

When Bakugou first met you in the grocery market, he couldn’t help but notice your tiny but voluptuous figure, you were struggling to reach a box of cereal until Katsuki came along and helped.

“Here you go, Short Stack. Maybe next time you should ask your mommy to help you reach the high shelves.” He teased with a wink to the nickname.

You looked at the handsome blonde with a blush at first sight but when he teased you, your blush grew more ferocious with a pout and pointed brows. “I don’t need my mom to help me in the grocery store. I’m 22 for God’s sake!” You said, reaching for the box that he now held over his head.

“Hm, woulda said 17.” He teased again. You ignored his jokes and jumped to reach the box and take it out of his hands. You failed multiple times and he still stood tall with a smirk as he looked down at you.

‘Now she’s fucking cute’ he thought to himself. His eyes traveled down to your busty hips and tiny waist, then taking notice of the way your chest bounced around when you jumped and reached for the cereal. ‘Pretty damn sexy too.’

“C’mon little bear. You can do it.” He said with a shit eating grin. You pouted some more and stomped your foot before coming to a realization and began smirking. You dropped to the floor and swooped your legs to kick at his ankles and made him drop to the floor. As he fell, he let go of the box and you caught it midway before turning your back to him. Usually, Bakugou would be a little pissed, but his anger died down at the sight of your juicy ass.

“Yes!” You cheered.

“Woah..” Bakugou said in a trance. You turned to him with a confused look before he quickly hid it with a scowl. You giggled at his place on the floor and stuck out your hand to help him up.

“Sorry, but maybe you should’ve just given me my cereal. Anyway, thanks for the ‘help’ I guess..uh..” you asked, hinting for his name.

“Bakugou.” He answered and you nodded and gave a soft smile before speaking.

“Bakugou.” You said, finishing your previous sentence. “Well, I’ll be off now,”

You began to walk away but felt Bakugou tug on your arm. You looked back at him with another confused look but was only met with a cute smirk.

“Hey, I helped you with that cereal, the least you could do is give me the pretty girl’s name.” He said. You blushed a bit more before giving him a dumb look.

“Who? Me?” You teased.

“Nooo, the old hag at the cash register,” he joked. You both laughed at his comment as you settled with his hold on you, not minding the contact at all.

“Y/N L/N.” You said.

“Alright Y/N L/N, was nice meeting you.” He said with his hands in his pockets while holding a smile. A real smile and not a smirk.

“I know.” You said with a cocky smile that he could only chuckle at. “Was nice meeting you too Bakugou. I’ll see you around,” you said walking away with a waving hand.

As you walked, Bakugou couldn’t help but admire your curvy body and drool at the sight. He didn’t know what it was but something was pulling him to you. He wanted you. He needed you. That little interaction was not enough. It’s not even that he wanted to fuck. Sure you had a banging body, but your playful self caught his interest. He wanted your mind, body, and soul. He wanted to make you his.

Through the help of technology and his access to police files and hero reports, he was able to find your name, address, where you worked, and all that. He worked hard to “coincidentally” run into you constantly, up until the point where you two became quite acquainted. You eventually asked him to hang out (as friends) and that’s where the relationship grew. A few months had passed before Bakugou successfully asked you on a date, and that’s when you both found love within each other. Or more so, you found love in him. He loved you at first sight and he knew it for a fact.

After a year of dating, Bakugou asked you to move in with him and you of course said yes. Once settled in, he worked even harder to constantly fuck you stupid, break you down but build you up at the same time. He made it clear he was in charge and you were his little toy. A toy he loved with his entire being, but still a toy.

You became his dumb little girl. You had a job but Katsuki encouraged you to not work so much. “I don’t want you to raise a finger pretty girl. Just let Daddy take care of you,” he would say as he bounced you on his cock.

You had a little dance hobby that Katsuki also encouraged you to take a break from. “You don’t need to put on a show for anybody else but me, Princess. Daddy’ll give you all the attention you want.” He’d say as he kissed your cheek and finger you in front of a mirror.

You used to have friends before Bakugou found out they were trying to warn you of his abrasive behavior. Growing pissed at that, he convinced you they were against you and were no good for you.

“Those little friends of yours could never make you feel as good as I do, baby. They’re no good for you. They just want us to be apart. They’re jealous. They want you to leave me, but you don’t want that, right princess?”

“N-No daddy!”

“That’s right princess. You definitely don’t wanna leave me. Because no would could take care of you like I do, right? No one could. Nobody but me,” he would say as he pounded into you and whispered in your ear.

Eventually, Katsuki became your whole life. You would work one day a week so that you had more time for Katsuki. You would wake up next to him and cuddle with him until he had to leave for work. You would clean the house and cook for him, and you would wait for him to come home during the late hours of the night so you could smother him with love. Often times, you guys would fuck. Matter of fact, the day you first moved in, you Christened every place and piece of furniture in his house. It was the same routine that you learned to love. Wake up, cuddle, clean, cook, love, fuck.

Being Katsuki’s precious dumb baby girl, he couldn’t let his baby bear see all the damage he does as a hero. Oh no, that would scare you way too much. Your precious little self wouldn’t be able to handle it. He would tell you he was a pro hero, the number 2 hero, saving lives, and he was satisfied every time he saw the sparkle in your eyes as you looked at your hero boyfriend with a proud look. He never told you about the dark side of hero work though. The bloodshed, the kills, the deaths. Horrid things your sweet baby mind wouldn’t be able to take. He would keep his princess oblivious to the terrible things he has to do as a hero and you being his dumb little bear listened when he said you wouldn’t be able to find any videos of him. Why bother to check if he was right? Your Katsuki would never lie to you. He would never do wrong by you. All and all, Katsuki can’t risk her getting scared and leaving.

That was until....

—

Ding!

You were busy finishing up dinner when your phone went off. You looked down to the screen to see a random number had sent you a video. From the preview of the video on the banner, you took notice of that easily recognizable tuff of spiky blonde hair. You grew excited at the small sight of your boyfriend and swooned before you watched the video.

After you pressed play, your smile remained as you watched your boyfriend. However, as the video went on, your smile slowly dropped and became replaced with an open mouth. Your eyes became filled with fear as you watched your “sweet” boyfriend ruthlessly murder a man in an alleyway. You listened to his crazy laugh and felt your heart skip a few beats. Your mouth became dry and your palms grew sweaty as the video continued to install fear in you. Finally, your boyfriend threw the dead body into a pile of trash cans before you saw him look to the camera with those eyes. Those ruby gems that you used to love turned into blood drops as he gave the camera a scary glare. He barked at the man behind the camera before aiming a blast his way. The blast came at the camera and made you jump as it felt like the attack was going to hit you. You flinched and dropped your phone as the video finished and your breath grew heavy as you began to sweat and look around.

You immediately ran to your shared bedroom and pulled out your laptop. Katsuki always said you would never find anything about Dynamight online, but all you had to do was type in his name to find multiple videos of his deathly battles. You watched countless recordings of him mercilessly killing people left and right with his quirk and bare hands. Your body began to shake as your pupils dilated with fear. After a terribly gruesome fight video, you threw your device aside in fear and ran into the living room. You settled the slightest bit before growing nervous once more. All around the house were pictures of you and Katsuki. He was everywhere in the house. And those dangerously red eyes followed you everywhere. You began to hyperventilate until the sound of jingling keys invaded your ears.

You looked at the door in fear and after a few seconds, the main man walked in. Katsuki Bakugou. He seemed exhausted but once he took sight of you, he visibly became at ease.

—

Bakugou walked into the door, pissed off and tired as fuck. Luckily, that all changed when he noticed his precious Teddy Bear in the living room. He assumed you came to greet him again like you always did and he smiled at that.

“K-Katsuki! Hi..” you nervously said but Bakugou was too intoxicated with you to even notice. He walked to you with a smile and wrapped his arms around your waist before peppering your face in sweet kisses. You flinched due to his touch but Bakugou just assumed it was because of his stronger caramel scent. He did use his quirk a lot today after all.

“Hi baby,” he said. He didn’t stop his kisses as he spoke in between them. “Had such a bad day this mornin’.....was so upset......missed you a lot baby...did you miss me?”

“Mm..y-yes.” You once again said in fear. You definitely missed him throughout the day, but now with this new information, you wanted nothing more than to get away from him. Bakugou moved his kisses to your lips and placed a long, loving one on you. He had his eyes shut and so did you, but his were shut in content and yours were scrunched in fear. The entire time, you could feel your rapid heart rate pulse all throughout your body.

Bakugou started a heavy make out session with you as his hands traveled to the swell of your ass and gave it a grip and smack. He spoke to you throughout the kiss and kept his lips hovering when he spoke before diving right back into it. “Not my best day today......but you can make it better, right baby.....you wanna help Daddy feel better?”

“Mm!” You didn’t say yes but you couldn’t say no either. You didn’t know how to. Not when it came to Katsuki. At the cute little sound, Bakugou picked you up and placed you down on the couch, too eager to dive into you right away.

He placed you on the wide couch and began grabbing at your body. Your tiny waist, your curvy hips, your pretty titties. That was when he finally felt you tense up. A few nervous thoughts infiltrated his mind. Did you not want this? You never said no to him though. What was going on? He pushed those thoughts away as he continued. Maybe you were just extra sensitive today. Things were starting to change when he moved his hand down into your panties and you tried to squirm away from him.

“Baby?” He asked you as he separated from your lips and gave you a confused puppy look. He finally took notice of your nervousness and looked at you with worry. “You okay, princess?”

“Umm, yeah! I’m-..I’m okay it’s just, you don’t wanna take a shower before we do anything?” You asked as an excuse. Bakugou chuckled and a few of his nerves began to settle.

“C’mon princess, I know I just got off of work but it’s always just smoke and caramel with me. Besides you love it, I know you do.” He said and smirked as he began to lick at your neck. You nervously laugh and pushed on his chest to back him up.

“Aha, yeah, but don’t you wanna be a little more comfortable?” You asked again.

“I’m already comfortable right here. If anything, I’d be really comfortable if we were both bare already.” He said against your neck again. You pushed him off again and placed a soft hand on his cheek while giving him the sweetest smile as you spoke.

“Please love, for me?” You asked. You watched as Bakugou gave an exasperated sigh with a smile and roll of his eyes before leaning down and giving you a sweet peck.

“For you.” He said before pecking your cheek. “Everything for you, baby.” He said and finally got up to go wash up.

Once he was out of sight you released a relieved sigh. With him gone, you felt yourself began to shake again as you crowded into a corner on the couch and held yourself. You covered your mouth as you began to silently cry and sob. That-..that killer was so close to you. He was pressed against you. His once loving and comforting presence now became dangerous and scary. You didn’t know if you could take it.

—

As Katsuki walked up the stairs to the master bedroom, he couldn’t help but feel the nerves begin to bubble back up again. Why were you acting so...disobedient? It kind of irritated the blonde but he settled nonetheless. Maybe you were just having an off day. Bakugou walked right into the room and went straight for the shower after tossing his phone on the bed. The sooner he washed up, the sooner he could get to ravish you. He was quickly in and out of the shower and once he went back into the room, he threw on a pair of Gray sweats. Before leaving, Bakugou went to grab his phone but noticed your laptop opened. He looked to the screen in curiosity and felt his heart drop to his stomach once he saw what he did.

‘PRO-HERO DYNAMIGHT’S MOST LETHAL ATTACKS’ was the video you were watching. Bakugou took notice of the setting and remembered that battle. The battle where he grabbed a villain by their neck and blasted off into the sky before using an explosion to hurl them down to the ground again, killing them in the end.

Why the hell were you watching this? How the hell did you find this?! Why did you even think of looking for this video?! Bakugou felt his heart rate increase as his breath became huffs of frustration. His eyes grew fierce as he grabbed the laptop and ran downstairs. Once he walked in, he saw you cornered in the couch, hugging your knees with your head down. “Y/N!”

You immediately looked up when your boyfriend called your name. He finally saw your teary eyes and feared face when you looked to him. Then it finally clicked. This is why you were acting so off. You found him. You found the other side of him. The Katsuki you knew was sweet, teasing, loving, and a romantic. The Katsuki he hid from you was ruthless, violent, feral, and borderline insane. And you were acting off because you finally found out.

“Mind telling me what the fuck this is?!” He shouted. Now this wouldn’t be the first time Katsuki’s yelled at you. While he was in the process of breaking you down, he had to yell to let you know who was in charge. It’s not like he was heartless though, he hated it every time you forced his hand and made him yell at you. He felt so guilty and made sure to cater to your every need after he would freak out on you. Thankfully, you were a quick learner and it’s been years since you’ve gotten reprimanded by him.

You stood to your feet to try and defend yourself and get a grip. “K-Katsuki! I-..I swear it’s nothing! I wasn’t doing anything!”

“You’re gonna fucking lie to me now, Y/N?! Why the hell did you go and look for this video?” He fiercely asked. You remained silent as you were terrified and just trembled at you chewed at your lip. “ANSWER ME!”

“I-...Someone-..Somebody sent me a video...of you...and what you did tonight.” You hesitantly said. Bakugou slammed to your laptop shut and threw it to a wall, destroying it in the process.

“Show me the video.” He demanded. You were still shaking as you looked to him in fear and shock at what he just did. “NOW!”

You scrambled to get your phone and give it to Katsuki. He watched the video with a numb expression but his grip on the phone gave away all his emotions of anger and fury. Once the video was done, he looked at you with an insane smirk. You stared at him in fear as you watched his every move and right then and there he crushed your phone in his hand.

“K-Katsuki!” You shouted as you looked to your now destroyed devices. He dusted off his hands and walked to you. You tensed up at his approach and when he raised a hand to cup your cheek gently, he felt the way you shook in extreme terror.

“It’s okay, baby. You can tell me whatever you’re thinking right now. I won’t get mad.” He softly said with a smile. He was so close to you now. His hand was caressing your face oh so sweetly that it made you believe him the slightest bit. You don’t know if it was love or fear that caused you to tell him but you did.

“I-..I’m..I’m scared of you Katsuki.” You said with tears in your eyes. Katsuki just continued to softly stroke your face with his gentle smile as he nodded his head and encouraged you to go on. “You didn’t tell me..about anything of that. You told me you saved people..but you were..killing them.”

“It’s how I have to save people baby. People who become too dangerous need to be put down. It’s my job baby, you understand, don’t you?” He asked with his gentle tone. You shook your head as he still held it softly.

“No..I- I don’t.” You looked at Katsuki with hurt eyes and you took a small breath before you boldy said the next words. “I-..I think we should take a break.”

At that, Katsuki tensed up again. His eyes went wide for a second and his smile dropped before he shook his head and the kind eyes and warm smile returned. He stared at you for what felt like forever before his sweet face turned into a scary look and his hand quickly wrapped around your neck to put you into a small choke hold. Bakugou flipped you onto the couch and pinned you there. You began to scream and squirm but he covered your mouth and held you down with his legs to keep you steady.

“Careful Teddy Bear,” he said with a maniacal look, “shout and scream too much and you might just lose your breath,” he said and tightened his hold the slightest bit. “And we wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

You began to silently sob as his hand covered your mouth and you stopped moving under his hold. You nodded your head as tears began to spill down your face. Katsuki pouted at you before leaning down to lick away a tear. “Awe, don’t cry baby. There’s nothing to be scared off.”

At his words, your eyes grew angry and you bit his hand to remove it. He shouted at the bite and removed his hand as he looked down at you in anger. “You! That’s what I’m scared of Katsuki!” You said with anger and sadness.

Bakugou didn’t take too kindly to that and clenched his fist before he smacked your face. Your head turned to the side at the hard slap as you gasped at the contact. Bakugou grabbed your face with his large hand and made you face him.

“Dirty fucking bitch. You fucking love getting smacked by me don’t you?” He said with a crazed look. “Listen to me very carefully Y/N. I’ve loved you since I first laid my fucking eyes on you. So you’re not allowed to leave me. Understand?” He asked. You began to squirm again and he smacked you again to get you to stop. “ENOUGH OF THAT! You’re not leaving me Y/N. If you run, I’ll find you again the same way I did in the beginning. If you hit me, I’ll have to punish you. You remember all your punishments, don’t you? So stop fighting it. You love me and I love you. We’re not splitting up.”

You narrowed your eyes at Bakugou before spitting on his face. His eyes grew feral as his hold returned to your neck to give it a squeeze. You could still breath..but barely. “Answer me this baby. Answer wrong though and I’ll do what has to be done. Do you want to leave me?”

You looked at his eyes to find any hints of danger. Sadly, everything about this whole situation screamed danger. You still had love for Katsuki, you knew you did, but this was a whole different level. You didn’t know who this was. “.....Yes.”

“Wrong answer.”

With that, Bakugou began to rip your clothes off along with his own. You watched in fear as he did everything. The entire time, he had this excited grin on his face with insane eyes.

“K-Katsuki! What are yo-“ before you could finish, Bakugou had taken your panties and used them as a gag for you. He shoved them in your mouth and you made muffled sounds. You were both now completely bare on the couch, just like he wanted when he first came home.

“Relax baby,” he said before kissing your cheek softly as he pulled you to him. “I’m gonna make you feel so good..I’m gonna do something so nice that you’ll never want to leave.”

You shook your head with tears in your eyes. You tried push him away but he pulled your hands down. “Stop that. I’m not a heartless monster baby. I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

He grabbed both your hands and pinned them above your head in the couch. Both your tiny hands were able to be held by his one giant palm as his other hand traveled to your lower region and began rubbing soft circles on your clit. You arched your back at the pleasant feeling. As much as you didn’t want this, as much as you wanted to run away and leave, your body couldn’t deny the pleasure he gave you. He knew you inside and out. He was able to break you from a single touch.

“Feel good?” He asked with a smirk. You shook your head in disagreement. His smirk fell into a determined frown. He knew you didn’t want this now but he would make sure you would soon enough. His movements picked up speed and your legs began to shake. Katsuki finally shoved two fingers in, causing you to shriek with the muffled sound.

His pumps gave no hesitation with their speed as they went in hard and fast. You were practically screaming behind the panties once he gave in another 2 fingers. His thumb played with your clit as he continued to whisper dirty things into your ear.

“My little slut really thought she could leave me? Huh? Cant you hear the sounds your pretty pussy is making. Your mouth may say you don’t want me but your mind and body says otherwise.” With that he slipped in his thumb and you’ve never felt so full. You had his entire fist pumping in and out of you as your felt your legs growing weak. “Fuck baby, look at you. Taking my fist so well. Feel good? Feel full? Hm?”

This time, you moaned in agreement. You couldn’t help it. This was going to be your last time with Katsuki, might as well make it last. However, that was never Bakugou’s plan, no. He loves you too much to let you go. You aren’t leaving him and he’s making sure of it.

As he continued, he felt you tighten around his fist. He smiled once again and sped up his movements. “C’mon baby, let me hear you.” He leaned down and pulled the panties out of your mouth with his teeth. He tossed them aside and allowed you to voice your thoughts.

“F-Fuck Katsuki! M-More! Please!” You begged. He only looked down at you with wide eyes and a grin.

“More? What more could I give you baby?” He said, leaving down to you. “Tell me what you want Y/N.”

“I-...I-“

“You- you- you what teddy bear? Tell me. Do you want..me to stop?” He teased.

“N-No!” You cried out.

“Do you want me to slow down?” He asked.

“No!”

“Then? What do you want, baby?” He asked.

“Mm! I- I want you to fuck me Katsuki! Please! Fuck me with your cock!” You cried out and Bakugou’s fist came to a stop.

“Good girl.” He then pulled out his fist and quickly replaced it with his dick. You both cried out in euphoria. He wasted no time in ramming into you, using a quick speed. He held onto your hips as you velvet walls swallowed him in. “S-Shit baby! Fuck, after all that you’re still so- fuck! So fucking tight.”

His fingertips had a grip on your hips that was sure to leave bruises. The way he was pounding into you caused your breast to bounce and dance right in front of him. Not that it wasn’t anything Katsuki hasn’t seen before, but it’s the fact that he loves the scene so much. He licked his lips at the sight of your voluptuous mounds before taking one into his mouth. The feeling of his teeth sinking in had you gasping and your hands found way into his hair, pulling him in closer.

“K-Katsuki!” You cried out. He smirked at the sound and released you from his mouth.

“You don’t even know how good you look. How good you will look when I knock you up and fill you with my kids.” He said against your bare skin. This made your eyes pop as you looked at him in fear.

“W-what?! No! Katsuki! Please, I don’t want thi-“

“Shut the fuck up!” He screamed over you. He placed his hand around your neck as his cock completely took over you. “Yes you do! Don’t you remember baby? You always talked about starting a family with me. Now you can have it!”

“K-Katsuki..please! Please stop, this is rape!” You urgently whimpered. Bakugou merely ignored your cry as he continued his motions.

“I said, SHUT THE FUCK UP! It’s not rape if you enjoy it baby.” He said in response. He continued to touch you in the dirtiest of ways, bringing quiet moans out of you no matter how hard you tried to fight it.

“No! I don’t want it anymore! I don’t want you Katsuki!” You cried. Tears now flowed down your face in fear. You’ve always wanted a family with him. But that was before you knew how he truly was. Your words only angered Katsuki and so he punished you with a harsh smack to the face. Your head turned to the side as you gasped at the stinging feeling that almost felt like pleasure in a way.

“I’m gonna give you brat, and you’re gonna stay. You’re gonna stay with me and we’re gonna be a happy family! Because I love you and I know you love me.” He said. Your legs were growing weak as his relentless thrusts never stopped.

“P-Please. Please, I’ll stay. But I don’t want this. Not now.” You whimpered. At your soft voice, Bakugou slowed down the pace but his hard thrusts continued.

“Sorry baby, but I want this. I’ve spoiled you for too long. I give you everything under the sun and you reward me by trying to leave. Especially over such a small instance? I don’t think so. The least you could do for me is give me the family I want with you. Don’t you agree?” He sweetly said with malice intent.

You only continued your whimpers as you allowed him to do as he pleased. You weren’t getting out of this. Katsuki gets whatever Katsuki wants. If he wanted to fuck his child into you, he was going to do so, one way or another. Katsuki allowed his moans to fill the room as the once sweet sound of skin slapping grew louder and louder, coming faster and faster. Eventually, you reached your release and even squirted all over Katsuki’s chest. He very much enjoyed that and it brought him closer to his climax. He kept to his word and filled you up to the brim. You both threw your head backs and cried out in ecstasy.

Once he was done, Katsuki remained inside of you as he laid on top of you. He peppered your face in kisses as you continued to make soft sounds. You both remained on the couch for some time before he pulled out and walked to the kitchen to get a rag and clean you and himself up. Once done, he picked you up and brought you to the bedroom where he placed you down under the sheets and joined you. He cuddled with you in bed feeling happy and joyous while your head was stuck in thought.

‘If his plan worked, I’ll be a mother soon. There’ll be a baby growing inside of me.’ You silently thought. Bakugou snapped you out of your thoughts with a kiss on your lips before he began speaking.

“..I know what you saw on the footage was scary, but that’s not the only part of me. I’ve shown you every other me. The me that loves you and wants to be with you forever, Y/N.” He said and picked up your hand to give your knuckles a kiss.

“....I understand that your job isn’t the purest. I understand that sometimes, a life will be lost. But the video that was sent to me, showed you killing a petty robber. You took it too far.” You argued quietly.

“Tch. Whatever. He deserved it anyway-“

“And it’s not only that, but you’re the reason why I have no friends, no job, no money, no family, no nothing. In the beginning, it was amazing because I thought I knew you. But now, I’m just scared of you Katsuki and I have no one else to go to.” You began to get choked up. This was the man you loved but you felt like you didn’t know him anymore. Right now, in your eyes, he was a killer. A scary monster.

“If you left me, who would you go to baby? You’re absolutely right. You have no friends. No job. No home. You have nobody but me. You need me. Say it.” He demanded. You remained quiet to rebel against his wishes until he took hold of your face and squeezed it tight. To stop the pain, you forced the words out.

“I-...I need you!” With that, he released his hold on you and his hand rested on your cheek. He stared into your eyes and you looked at him with the sad and confused look you had on ever since he came home.

“I love you Y/N. Do you still love me?” He asked.

“......I do.” You said. A smile grew on his face.

“Then we can make this work,” he said and pulled you into his chest, holding you tight. You whimpered into his chest but nonetheless held onto him tight as well. You did love him. You knew you did. But you didn’t love who he truly was. Or at least, what part of him was. A killer. A murderer.

He was right though. You had nowhere else to go. Katsuki really was your everything. And so, you were going to allow this relationship to go on. His child will come from you and you will start a family with him. Whether you want it to happen or not. As long as he wants it, it’ll happen.

Whatever Katsuki wants.

A/N: THE ENDING IS SO RUSHED AND HORRIBLE! IM SORRY!

Tag list: @sxcker4you @aomi04

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theepisceswriter · 3 years

Text

Jealous!Reader with AOT characters pt.2 (Porco, Bertholdt, Pieck, Zeke)

A/N: y’all really liked the first one I made here, so here’s a pt.2 with different characters

TW: none really apply, sort of suggestive for Zeke, Modern AU, GN!reader

PORCO GALLIARD

I am a firm believer that in a modern AU, Porco and Reiner would be the type of people to go to sport restaurants like Hooters, Buffalo Wild Wings, or Twin Peaks. They give me that macho man type of vibe. Of course though, Porco would make you tag along with him almost every time he went. He feels that it’s a very nice way for the two of you to bond. Which honestly it is.

You have a deep sense of security within yourself and enough trust in Porco to not be bothered by the waitresses there, as you should, knowing that it’s only their job to be enticing like that. Hell, you even enjoy it when the waitresses would flirt with you sometimes or you’d get the really pretty ones who look like they’re straight off of a magazine. Not to mention that you visit places like this often, so most of them know you and know that you and Porco are in a relationship together.

They all respect your boundaries and don’t try to push at them at all.....until this one waitress comes around. You can quite obviously tell that her flirting is different from the “trained” flirting that the other girls often do. She lingers at your table a little longer than she should be trying to talk to Porco to the point where other waitresses have to tell her to go check on other tables and she’s disregarding you completely, asking Porco questions that should be aimed at you and being very rude in general.

Porco is hardly paying her any mind, too focused on the game to really pay attention to what’s going on, but any piece of attention he gives to her she latches on too it. But still, you remain cordial and calm on the inside. Not wanting to come off as one of those significant others and cause a scene that doesn’t need to be caused. If someone looked at you for too long they might notice an eye twitch or two coming from you.

Really it’s Porco’s hand holding underneath the table that’s keeping you sane and reminding you of how secure your position in your relationship is. You almost calm down entirely, but of course the waitress has to come back and try desperately to get his attention again. At one point he zones out into the game and to try and get his attention she attempts to tap him on his shoulder.

Strong on the attempt because you grabbed her wrist before she could even brush her fingers against his shirt and gave her a stern “Aht! Aht! That is not going to be happening tonight and definitely not in front of me.”

And Porco, this menace to society, finally speaks up like, “I was wondering when you were finally going to say something. I was getting afraid that I didn’t mean anything to you anymore.” He would’ve eventually intervened himself though if she was actually successful in touching him.

The waitress gets the hint for the rest of the night, but just incase she doesn’t he holds you close to his side with his arm draped over your shoulders.

BERTHOLDT HOOVER

Despite his soft spoken nature and personality that sometimes falls on the shy part of the spectrum, Bertholdt is actually an easy person to come up to and start a conversation with. Of course, you have to be the one to start the conversation, but after that it’s like he can’t shut up, likes he’s compelled to answer back to everything and keep a conversation going.

It’s a trait of his that you’ve come to love, but also come to hate on days when you’re out in public with him and can just see the twinkle in a girl’s eyes when she’s getting ready to come over to him to flirt. It’s usually in awkward situations too like when you’re out shopping and he’s standing off to the side because he has no business looking at what you’re shopping for, so the fact that he’s kind of alienated from you and doesn’t know how to respond to flirting all that well in the first place really has him in an awkward chokehold.

He’ll get asked for his number and instead of saying flat out no, because he doesn’t want to be harsh, he struggles to let words out at all as he tries to think of what to say. And people really prey on his shyness and don’t even give him the chance to respond before they’re forcing themselves on him more, handing their phone out to him just waiting to input a number.

Imagine the shock and anger on your face when you turn around from your shopping happy ready to show Bertholdt what you got and instead you see a girl trying to get his number! You’re over there in an instant, legs carrying you as fast as they can and a scold on your face as you go over there and the first thing you do is push that phone as far away from him as you can.

“I know my BOYFRIEND and something tells me that he is not interested in the direction this conversation is going with you whatsoever, so I suggest you leave him alone before I make you 😤” The girl leaves like immediately after that.

Bert is just behind you the whole time with a ☺️ look on his face like “Yes, that is indeed my significant other!” Which is so funny because he’s like 6’3 and towering over you, but you’re the feisty one!

He does feel kinda guilty for not cutting off the interaction before it got that far, so he wraps his arms around you and nuzzle his face into your neck all like, “I’m sorry baby 🥺🥺 you know I don’t like anyone else but you 🥺🥺 I was trying to tell them no thank you but it wouldn’t come out 🥺🥺”

You couldn’t stay mad at him even if you wanted to, that’s all it takes for you to forget about it altogether.

PIECK FINGER

It’s almost impossible to see someone as fine looking as Pieck and not shoot your shot. If I saw Pieck out in public the first thing I would do is shoot my shot.

It happens allll the time whenever you two go out. Out at the mall shopping for clothes? Someone’s going to come up to you two and try to hit on Pieck. At the club minding each other’s business and trying to have a good time? Some guy is going to come over and try to ruin that for you too.

At first it was like a bragging rights thing for you. Everyone noticed your hot girlfriend was hot but you were the one who went home to her everyday and not them, but at some point it switched from a bragging right to down right annoying. It’s like you can’t leave her alone for more than a couple of seconds because here comes someone breathing down her neck being a weirdo!

Poor Pieck doesn’t even know what’s going on half of the time because she be baked out of her mind, thinking about nothing but how some ruffles and ice cream can really hit right now. So she’s just going along with the conversation like “mhm, yeah ☺️” every ten seconds hoping that they’d get the hint that she’s not thinking about them at all and to leave her alone. But, of course, they don’t.

Her body language becomes stressed out and agitated, not knowing what to do because you’re in the gas station buying snacks for the two of you while she’s far away at the gas pumps doing her best to get an ending with this weirdo where they don’t kidnap her.

Luckily, just on time you exit out the gas station and even before you get any closer to Pieck you’re already pissed off at the fact that someone is probably hitting on her, but after you see her do that awkward little shuffle with her feet signifying that she’s uncomfortable? You’re over there in a heartbeat.

See, maybe you would’ve been a bit nicer if her body language didn’t tell you that they had been pestering her for a while despite how everything about her screamed ‘not interested.’

So what do you do? You take the bottle of sprite you bought and bop them on the head with it. Head empty no thoughts just ‘protect my stoner girlfriend.’

Pieck is so messy too, she’s in the background like “Ohhhhh shit *giggle* fight! Fight! Fight!” You were ready to rumble too, but if you were so ready to hit them in the head with a sprite bottle the other person definitely didn’t want to know what else you were confident with doing. So they recuperated from their sprite bottle hit and went running to their car.

This was a proud girlfriend moment for Pieck the whole drive home. She could not stop talking about how much of a badass you were and how she loved that you would do anything for her.

ZEKE JAEGER

I wrote soft Zeke already, so now it’s time for me to give y’all the menace Zeke y’all have been waiting for.

Zeke is the type of significant other who’s big on teasing and messing with his partner is general. There’s something about seeing them all flustered after he does something to embarrass them, like fake propose to them in public or something, that really cracks him up. That being said, he’s not opposed to flirting with someone in front of you to get you riled up and see your reaction.

Let’s set the scene; He drags you to Sam Ash with him, because we’ve all just collectively decided that modern day Zeke is a music pretentious asshole, to go get something for his guitar or at least that’s what you assume he was complaining about. You weren’t even listening, just excited to go and mess with the drums and guitars there. It’s the first thing you do once you get there and Zeke sees this as his opportunity to finally mess with you.

He goes over to the drum set display you’re playing on and calls over and employee with “inquiries” about the set you’re playing on. He pretends to ask a few genuine questions at first but eventually he’s able to get the conversation to shift to something a little more personal. Which isn’t terrible, but once he starts throwing out lines like “Oh you like (said band)? I’ve always found myself gravitating towards people who like them. They’re always the most attractive people, I’ve found 😏.” Is when you start getting agitated.

You’re just trying to play We Will Rock You on the drums and here he goes killing your vibe immensely. And it’s hard to ignore when they’re standing right on the side of you. Not to mention how the employee is eating all of this up, blushing and all. It’s at the first mention of numbers being exchanged that you’ve decided you’ve had enough. Without a word to Zeke you get up and storm out of the store.

Was this a dick move on his end? Absolutely, but you’re a couple who’s relationship is filled with debating and bickering, bickering especially, so part of him thought you would play along with his little game and be like “Whatever. I don’t care.” But instead, you were genuinely upset. You didn’t even know where you were going but you were going somewhere. And that somewhere was the outside of the Sam Ash store because you realized you really didn’t have a choice.

Sorry guys, but I have to switch over to soft Zeke now.

He comes running after you, “y/n! Y/n it was a joke!” But that just makes you even more mad and oops, a year drops down your face and he feels terrible.

Kisses all over your face, words of assurance spilling out his lips, and a tight ass beat hug.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m such a dick I know. I didn’t mean to make you this upset though.” He would get down on his knees if he had to!

I guess you can forgive him just this once, but only on the terms that you get Sub!Zeke tonight and get to act as a pillow princess/prince cause he has a lot of making up to do.

#sorry if there are any typos i was kinda rushing #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #porco galliard x reader #bertholdt hoover x reader #pieck finger x reader #zeke yeager x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #aot imagines

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rattlerinthewheel · 3 years

Text

Fruit Bat: Scud/Reader

He should know better than to irritate the vampire that’s already pissed, wounded, and starving—so you teach him.

For the Kinky Things Happen bingo square: vampires and discipline, at @pandoratriestowritestuff’s request for some Scud. Credit to them and @phoenixblack89, who talked about Scud getting spanked and choking on a donut, for the respective scenes.

- - -

You’re still pissed at him.

But it’s hard to give him the silent treatment when you need to get at the junk around the tables. Move, pass me that wrench, throw me that wire, is dry and distant, work-related; but turn that shit down, quit spewing crumbs, stop grabbing me, and other growls that aren’t related to the tech you’re fiddling with get read as some sign—to keep doing those things, but that’s sure not what your glares should be saying.

Well, it isn’t a surprise that he’s being a dumbass about it. A moron about a lot of shit, lately, the bandage on your arm can vouch for that. And it was an accident, sure, you wouldn’t usually blame him for aiming that UV flashlight at anything that swarmed at him on a job; but he’d been high and you’d called out a warning, dammit, and he still got you with it. Burned like a motherfucker, like acid.

His apology was huffed, high-sluggish, and rank like the shitty weed he’d been toking.

Maybe he’s realizing you’re really pissed, content with just your hand as company for a few days, because you haven’t taken a break even once from this group project—a net of UV panels you can drape over the van; they stay off for now, obviously—to get your hands down his pants, or his down yours.

But Josh—Scud’s dumb, and it pisses him off to be called Josh, so of course that’s what you call him—is definitely high, not as sharp as he’d otherwise be, and his logic is coming from his dick today. His brain would be screaming at him to not agitate the vampire that’s wounded and pissed.

He’s prodded at you the whole damn night so far, brushing your groin to grab a tool there’s fifteen more of scattered around that he can get to, angling his head in a way that makes the churning veins under too damn tempting, flat-out groping your ass when his first two tactics don’t get him anything more than warning hisses.

Except when he decides he doesn’t like a particular hiss you give, too much teeth for his liking, because when his hand drops from where it’s gotten in a squeeze it claps right back down across the ass cheek it grabbed. Fucking hard, too; "make peace, not war" your ass.

You whirl where he’s scrambling back to his side of the room, giggling, hands raised with his palms out like he can call a truce. Like he hasn’t been doing this shit all night and your hisses and menaced fangs are supposed to be equals, or something.

Well, they aren’t. And you feel like cashing in some payback.

"C’mon, baby, lighten up!" trails his getaway while you give chase. You don’t run after him, but Josh stumbles and darts around like you are. It’s one of the oldest hunting tactics, just following, while the prey tires itself out trying to get away. Vampires don’t need to use it, you could just as easily catch up, even with a bandaged arm.

But Josh wants to goddamn play, so you’ll follow suit. For now.

Smoker’s lungs, stoner’s, don’t let him keep it up as long as a guy his age could. Josh staggers, stumbles a last time like his clothes weigh fifty pounds, and drops on the steps up to another part of the workshop. By his couch and TV, the little nest he’s made for himself, and you don’t think that’s accidental; but you don’t plan to move things to that shitty couch, not anytime soon.

You walk right up to him, and Josh goddamn grins, leaning back on his hands and spreading his legs like he’s offering himself up like a damn meal. He’s still got one of those shitty donuts, and he takes a bite, still grinning, and flicks a crumb at your leg.

"You’re a child," you growl, getting a whiff of syrup lactic acids, probably burning his calves like battery; iron thumped in and out of his heart, jumping in his throat, flushing his face; that damn weed turning everything earthy, chalky like loam, but still good.

"I’m a delight," spews more crumbs with another giggle. "Besides, baby, you love it."

You do—when you aren’t pissed at him. "Love to kick your ass," you huff, toeing the step by his foot.

His hum makes you swallow. Fucking thirsty, you are, and that’s just the worst kind of trifecta for Josh to be near right now: starved, pissed, and wounded. Your nerves are shot, and his chase didn’t tire you, but it sure as shit reminded you of what hunts are supposed to take care of. And his hum, that sounds vaguely like a dying, helpless churr from a punctured throat...

Shit.

But the hum bubbles into a chuckle, as you’re stepping away to beat it and get back to work—so Blade doesn’t have you to stake and Josh to mend, or a drained corpse to bury—when you get a lazy kick to your calf and a teasing, "The little fruit bat running away? Afraid I’ll smack him again?"

You’re starving, agitated, and your arm throbs. It’s not a nickname you hate, but it sets off something.

You stop, turn back slowly, and flick your eyes to either side to make sure you won’t be skewered by stray junk out of place. All clear, so you skulk up, schooling your face into a careful, bland look that puts Josh on edge more than a scowl.

"Ain’t my ass about to get smacked, boy," is throttled with a snap of fangs and a low pounce, and Josh can only drop the fucking donut and yelp as you tackle him.

He gets a bit of ground, because his hand clamps right down on the bandages, making you bark at the bolt of pain. It’s been longer since your last drink than you admitted to Blade, before he left, and that doesn’t help. But Blade would’ve had you come with, otherwise, and you figured dealing with Josh was worth getting the panels for the van closer to field testing.

Because as much as you want to skitter up the wall and drop Josh from the rafters, most days, you don’t want to get back to the van and find a drained, stoner-sized juice box.

So it’s a little ironic that he’s sprawled over your legs, when the scuffle’s over. It’s not what you intended—to pin him to his stomach, straddle, and give a few smacks before letting him go—but you sort yourselves out. First Josh, and you wrap an arm over his waist to keep him down; then yourself, and you sit up properly so his ass is right where you want it.

These days, child rearing isn’t what you were accustomed to, and Josh doesn’t figure it out until he feels your hand settle across the seat of his cargo pants. "No fuckin’ way," is half telling, half laughing, and the weed probably has something to do with that second part.

Because the first part’s not amused, but just in case he doesn’t get it across that he’s not thrilled to be pinned this way, Josh starts trying to buck off your lap.

"Yes fucking way," you hiss, and your hand cracks down over his right cheek.

It’s loud, even for his human hearing, and goes off like a shotgun blast. Josh twists his head back, huffing. The scowl he tries to give doesn’t have the kind of impact he hopes for, when it twitches at the second swat you land, right over the same spot. Harder than the first, because you won’t have him scowling at you, goddamn brat.

"Hope you know how to sleep with one eye open," cracks when you get a handful of flesh, quieter when he hangs his head. The pants are thin, and you feel the warmth from the swats, hell, hear the blood fizz under the surface. "Get you back for this."

You frown, not at the threat, but another rush of blood you hear. Feel, even better, in your lap.

You growl and throw a withering look his way, because fucking seriously? "You gettin’ hardover this?"

You hear the bones grind, Josh gritting his teeth, when you give the spot you’ve hit twice now a slow rub. Christ, he is, and he’s halfway there by the time you’ve rubbed enough circles into the warmed skin that you have to strain to hear the fizzing blood. You should’ve guessed he was into this, not like he doesn’t rile you up to pin or chase him anyway, this even makes sense.

The swipe to his left thigh is sudden, vampire speed but not strength because you aren’t that cruel. Your ears perk at the sound it gets, when the crack settles again, but before you can ask if he’s fine you feel his thigh rise up into your hand. You can’t help but scoff, because Christ’s sake, you weren’t trying to get frisky with him—and that ship’s goddamn sailed, because you’re helping him get hard.

You’re getting hard, too, can’t be a hypocrite about that. Josh feels it, pushing up into his side, and when he twists his head back again he’s flushed and his mouth’s open. His eyes are glazed over, brow’s furrowed, you think, but it’s hard to tell with the mop of hair in the way. Dammit,and you get a handful of his shirt in your striking hand to keep him from toppling over, and unwrap the other to push the hair off his face.

You can hear his sigh just fine, but it thrums into your fingers where you keep them pushed into his scalp, warm, damp from work and running from you. "Done already, baby? Maybe we can switch," buzzes up your arm.

Shit. You aren’t excited for that, because if he’s going to get you back he’s damn well working for it. But you can feel him reacting to you, swamping your senses; a whine when your fingers curl in the bangs before combing out, his hips shimmying when your arm loops over again, the muscles of his hide clenching as you drag down his pants and boxers.

That last one gets a sharp breath that’s followed up with a sharper swat. You suck in a gasp yourself and tighten your arm, giving your hard-on friction to grind off of, as you run your fingertips over the barely-pink skin. Warm, hot, without the fabric, and it fizzles louder like damn fireworks, when you drop your palm over the left cheek.

"Baby? Not getting any, uh, urges? Know I look good ‘nough to eat normally, but—"

"Shut up," you snarl, and then you’re smacking him again.

It’s anger at this bullshit, your injury, your arm throbbing as Josh twitches against the hold you just double down on when you start laying down swats quick and hard. He could’ve killed you, and he was too damn high to realize it, to apologize, still hasn’t.

But it’s some twisted fascination, too, watching the barely-pink go hot pink, white in the beat after a blow before it blooms darker, then red. You hear the blood fizz, pop, and simmer with each shade the flesh darkens to. Ass goes slower than the thighs, more meat to them, and that reminds you that there’s something to grab so you do. Not after every swat, just to give you both a breather, and you groan when you peel your hand off each time and a five-fingered print flares white before reddening again.

"Hope you choke on those damn donuts," you groan, throaty, when you realize your aim goes off because Josh is rutting into your damn lap. "Quit moving, lemme."

He goes rigid when you grab a hot thigh and spread him open, shift him right so his cock isn’t snug against your leg, and start to stroke. Cruelly slow, but it’s not like he’s getting out of this without some discipline. But you wouldn’t exactly mind doing this again, either...

"No one’s dead, then?"

Josh yelps and finally does buck off your lap. You let him, falling in a heap with his pants still down to his knees, because you’re too busy cringing back from the circle of UV light pointed at the floor. On concrete, not too close to the steps, but you’ve had enough of that wicked light as it is.

Blade doesn’t look bothered by Josh’s undressed, red ass, or the wet spot he left on your jeans. Neither of you finished, just pre-cum, but you’re not keeping a nose or ear out to scent or hear if Josh does by accident in the scramble. You’ve got something else on your mind, that wicks away the lust and anger and drags hunger up your throat so fast you’re dizzy.

The IV bag’s tossed to you, torn into and drained in the time it takes Blade to fish out another from his bag. You hear the flashlight go off and pounce out onto concrete to burrow into the second one he gives over, then growl for the third you can smell when he doesn’t offer it.

"There a problem?"

Your growl sputters, and Josh must’ve gotten his pants back up because he draws attention to himself now. "All good, B. Just looking for some shit for the panels."

Blade doesn’t ask what shit required Josh’s nose being two inches from the lowest step, or being over your lap while he looked, but you go deaf to what they do talk about when the third bag’s thrown your way. By the time you finish, wiggling the puncture marks over your yawning mouth to get the last drop, Blade’s gone and Josh’s face wrinkles.

"Oh, now you don’t want to bother me?" you purr, all fangs, your arm hardly aching and your throat good and wet.

"Shit, dude, would table manners kill you?"

You purr louder, a chuckle, as Josh turns away and goes to hide on his couch with his TV. Close to dawn, anyway, and it’s better to have two pairs of hands for the panels. At least that’s what Josh will tell Blade, probably, if he asks why he isn’t working on it in the morning when you’re sleeping. You’re betting on Blade either calling him out, saying a sore ass doesn’t mean a day off, or just letting it slide. He’s not stranger to vampire strength, even if it’s never been applied to his ass.

Well, Josh can tell him all about it, and you wipe the blood off your face, purr throttling in a real laugh, as Josh decides to lay down on his stomach while he fumbles with the TV.

"Gonna get you back," he reminds you.

In the dim, barely-lit room, with just some cartoon to flick pale tones over the dark space, you lurk over and crawl up onto the back of the couch, balancing on your side, so you can lick your fingers clean and run them through his hair. You tune out the shitty TV to hone in on his blood, calming down, still sputtering around his warm ass. It’s white noise you lose yourself in, purring at his swears when he shifts and agitates the flesh.

#blade 2 #scud #scud x reader #male reader #vampire reader #prompt request #bingo fill

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Could you maybe write a “73 questions with Sirius Black” Vogue one? Or something like that.

Yes! I had never seen these videos before and it was a fun challenge to write. Hope you enjoy! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

The house is large, two stories tall and painted a soft gray with white trim around the windows. Holiday lights have yet to be taken down and shine in all colors of the rainbow from the eaves as the camera crew walks up the front steps. The curtains in the window tremble for a moment, then a dog pokes her head through—she is all-black and curious, and looks quite large.

Dorcas Meadowes knocks on the front door; a moment later, it swings open and reveals Sirius Black. “Hey, guys, come on in! You can leave your shoes by the door inside.”

“Thanks, Sirius.” Dorcas kicks off her flats and follows him inside as he sets a dish towel on the end table and leans against it. “How are you today?”

“I’m doing pretty well. Morning practice was productive and I’m feeling good about our upcoming game.”

“We’re here today to ask you 73 rapid-fire questions while you lead us around. Sound good?”

“Sounds good. You can all come inside instead of freezing on the porch,” he laughs, waving them closer. The door shuts with a gentle click.

“First question: on a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now?”

“Hmmm. A solid seven.”

“Do you have any pets?”

“I do!” Sirius leads them into the other room, where the dog is curled up on the couch below the window; he picks her up and gives her a kiss on the head. “This is Hattie and I love her very much.”

“Cute! If you could do a dramatic love scene in a movie with anyone, who would it be?”

Sirius sets the dog down and thinks for a second. “Aside from my fiancé, I’m going to say James Potter. We would kill it and I don’t think it would be that awkward.”

“What’s the origin of your name?”

“Pretty much my whole family has star-themed names. Sirius is the dog star from Canis Major.”

“Brightest star in the sky, too. What’s one thing people don’t know about you?”

“I’m an introvert. Lots of people assume that I’m super social because of my job, but I’m very quiet in real life.” He walks back out to the entrance and takes the towel off the table, then moves into the kitchen. It’s well-lit and painted a deep, warm red. The countertop is scattered with knickknacks and picture frames—clearly, this is a place people spend a lot of time. Hattie, who followed them in, lays down by the oven with a heavy sigh.

“What’s your wakeup ritual?”

Sirius reaches up and pulls two mugs out of the cupboard. “I wake up around seven am and make coffee while Re is in the shower, then rinse off and get dressed while he makes breakfast. It’s a good system. Want some tea?”

“Sure. What’s your bedtime ritual?”

“I don’t think I have one,” he says as he puts the kettle on and ignites a burner on the stove. “Usually we read or watch a movie, then go up to bed and talk for a while. There’s not a big routine or anything.”

“Sounds nice. What’s your favorite time of day?” Dorcas sits on the other side of the kitchen island while he takes a box of peppermint tea down.

“That’s a tough one. I like the in-between spots, like just after sunrise or dusk. Three in the afternoon is usually pretty chill as well. Does anyone else want a cup?”

There are a few murmurs behind the camera and he takes two more down. “What is one thing no one knows about you?” Dorcas asks.

He raises an eyebrow. “If I told you, everyone would know, and it wouldn’t count.”

“Fair enough. Dream country to visit?”

“Anywhere. I think I want to go to Ireland first, though.” Small wisps of steam begin curling out of the kettle, but it doesn’t whistle.

“Do you ever feel pressure to post things on social media?”

Sirius makes a face. “I used to. Eventually I just got tired of it, you know? The whole point of social media is sharing bits of your life with people and it makes me happy to show off my dog, or Re, or my friends. I post things just for fun now.”

The kettle begins to hiss and he reaches back to turn it off. “Sneakers or skates?”

“Skates.”

“Vintage or new?

“Vintage, especially for t-shirts and sweaters.”

“Who is your biggest role model?”

“Pascal Dumais.” Sirius stops pouring for a moment to look up at the camera. “If you ever get a chance to meet him, listen to what he has to say. You’ll be better for it.”

“Wise words. How do you deal with negativity? Oh, thank you.” Dorcas wraps her hands around the mug and takes a small sip while Sirius passes the other ones to the crew.

“Honestly? I don’t give a shit. It used to really bother me, but I’m happy, I have a job I love, and my family cares about me. Why should I care what people I’ve never met think of me?” He sits on the counter and rests his elbows on his knees, blowing on the hot water.

“What are three things you can’t live without?”

“My dog, Remus, and my family.” There is no hesitation in his voice.

“Not hockey?”

“I’d be devastated if I couldn’t play, sure, but it’s not the central focus of my life anymore.”

“What’s one ingredient you put in everything?”

“Does salt count?” He winces as he takes a drink. “Ugh, burned my tongue. I put salt on a lot of things because I drink so much water that it throws my balance off.”

“What is something you’re completely bored of right now?”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Gossip columns and tabloids in general.”

Dorcas hums in agreement. “What’s your biggest fear in life?”

“Losing my loved ones.”

“Window or aisle seat?”

“Window. Anyone walking by always steps on my foot or hits my elbow if I’m in the aisle. Plus, I get a good view and an easy nap spot.”

“What’s your current TV obsession?”

“Avatar: The Last Airbender, which I’m watching for the third time already.” He shakes his head. “It’s just so good.”

“Favorite app?”

He takes a second to think. “Spotify.”

“Secret talent?”

Sirius looks at her over the rim over his cup. “This is going to shock you. Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Hockey.”

“You’re the worst.” Despite her words, Dorcas smiles. “What the most adventurous thing you’ve done in your life?”

“Uh, probably going to Europe with some of the guys last year. We had a lot of fun, but it was crazy.”

“I can imagine it was. How would you define yourself in three words?”

“Tall, dark, and handsome.”

“And apparently not humble,” Dorcas teases. “Favorite piece of clothing?”

“Hoodies.”

“Clothing item everyone should have?”

“Hoodies.”

A door opens behind them and the camera turns; Remus walks out of the basement, covered in sweat as he wipes his forehead with the hem of his shirt and holds his skates in his other hand. “Baby, have you seen…” he trails off when he sees the group of people in the kitchen. Hattie’s tail thumps on the floor. “Um. Hello.”

“Hey, Remus, how are you doing?” Dorcas asks mildly.

The camera pans out to catch both Sirius, who is laughing quietly, and Remus, who flushes pink. “I’m good. I thought you were coming at ten?”

“It’s ten-thirty, sweetheart,” Sirius says, hiding his smile in his tea.

Remus glances at the clock before giving an awkward nod and walking toward the stairs. “I guess I’ll take a shower, then. Sorry about that. Uh, carry on.”

“What’s a superpower you would want?” Dorcas asks as soon as he disappears.

Sirius shakes his head with a grin. “Uh, teleportation. That would be really cool.”

“What’s inspiring you in life right now?”

“Ah, une grande question.” He thinks, then tilts his head toward the staircase. “Moments like that. And the Stanley Cup, of course.” He reaches back and knocks on the wooden cupboard.

“What cause is closest to your heart?”

“LGBT+ rights, especially trans rights. I’m privileged enough to have a platform and I intend to be loud as hell about that.”

“Good.” Dorcas sets her almost-empty mug on the table. “What’s one thing you’d say to your teenage self?”

Sirius lets out a long breath and drums his hands on the light blue ceramic of his cup. “I would say…it gets better. It really, really does. You’re going to feel super shitty for just a little bit longer, but then I promise you will be so incredibly happy that you wake up every morning and it hits you all over again.”

Dorcas nods, and the kitchen is quiet for a moment. “What’s a book that everyone should read?”

“The Hobbit, by J.R.R Tolkien.”

“What would you like to be remembered for?”

“This is going to sound so corny, but I want to be remembered for just being a good person.”

“That’s not corny. How do you define beauty?”

“Remus Lupin.”

“That’s corny,” she laughs, making him smile. “What do you love most about your body?”

“I’m a big guy, which can be a little bit intimidating, but it means I give really great hugs. I’m sure everyone saw the video that went around a while ago.”

“Cap Cuddles?”

He snorts. “Right. You’ve got Finn O’Hara to thank for that.”

“In your opinion, what’s the best way to take a rest or decompress?”

“Being alone,” Sirius says. “There is literally nothing better than getting home and sitting down with a book or something while I can hear Re doing his own thing and Hattie’s napping. It’s one of my favorite parts of the afternoon.”

“That’s the most introverted thing you’ve ever said.” Dorcas grins and finishes her tea just as a faint beeping noise begins in another room. “What’s your favorite way to experience art?”

“Through music, for sure.” He slides off the counter and walks down the hall, leading them toward the laundry room. He gives the camera crew a look as he pulls dry clothes out of the machine and heads back to the living room. “What? Did you think I didn’t do my own laundry?”

“You lost a sock,” Dorcas informs him, picking it off the ground and laying it on top of his head.

“Thanks, D.”

“What question do people ask that you wish they wouldn’t?”

“Lots of people have asked me when I decided to be gay, which is wrong on so many levels.”

“If you could master one instrument, what would it be?”

“Guitar or piano.” He dumps the load of laundry on the couch and opens the back door, holding it for the crew as they walk out into the sunshine. Hattie weaves through their legs and disappears into the bushes along the back.

“I might have to take your dog home with me. If you had a tattoo, where would it be?”

Sirius mock-glares at her. “Let me have my girl! Um, I would love to have a tattoo somewhere on my arm.”

“This might be a hard one. Dolphins or koalas?”

“Oh, that is hard. Probably dolphins. The ocean is terrifying but those little guys are just having a blast.”

“What’s the best gift you’ve ever received?” Dorcas asks as he picks up a tennis ball and throws it across the yard. Hattie emerges from the bushes and races after it in a blur of black fur.

“An engagement ring.”

“Yeah, it was.” Remus walks into the backyard and kisses Sirius’ cheek before bending down to catch Hattie in his arms. His hair is still damp from the shower. “Hello, sweet girl!”

“Who’s your favorite musician?”

“Queen.” Sirius laughs at her surprised look. “I’m gay, what did you expect?”

“True. What’s your favorite board game?”

“Monopoly.” Remus and Hattie disappear from the frame, but the bouncing sound of the tennis ball creates some background noise and Sirius watches them for a moment with pure affection.

“Favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“Least favorite color?”

“Orange.”

“Bowties or knot ties?”

He frowns. “Don’t they all have knots?”

“Smartass.”

“Yep! Uh, regular ties.”

“Bowties are superior!” Remus calls.

“Get your own questions!” Sirius laughs.

“Going off your music answers: records or CDs?”

“I don’t own a lot of records, so I’m going to have to go with CDs. I love the way vinyl sounds, though.” His eyes widen as he looks to the side. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Remus wheezes. “I didn’t need those ribs anyway.”

“For the viewers, the dog just football-tackled him into the grass,” Sirius says, and Dorcas snorts.

“Your hair is famously luscious. Blow-dry or air-dry?”

“Air dry.”

“Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, but tea is nice in the evenings.”

“What’s the weirdest word in the English language?”

Sirius laughs. “There are so many. Uh, ‘jeez’ is the one that comes to mind first.”

“What about the French language?”

“Oiseaux,” he says in a crisp accent. “It means ‘birds’, and you pronounce about three of the actual letters.”

“Good to know. Do you prefer dark chocolate or milk chocolate?”

“Dark chocolate.”

“Stairs or elevators?”

“Elevators. I don’t want to walk up three floors after playing hockey for two and a half hours.”

“Summer or winter?”

Sirius bites his lip in thought as they walk around the yard, where small flowers line the fence in beds and colorful pots. “I love summer because I have actual free time to be with my friends, but winter is hockey season. I don’t know, next question.”

“What’s a dessert you don’t like?”

“I’m not a huge fan of caramel. It’s too sticky.”

“A skill you’re working on mastering?”

“Will you ban me from more interviews if I say hockey?”

“Yes.”

“In that case, I’m working on keeping plants alive, as you can probably see.” He taps the nearest flowerpot gently with his foot; it has ‘Harry’ painted across it in sloppy blue letters. “My godson made that for my birthday.”

“What’s the best thing to happen to you today?”

“This, for sure,” he says with a smile. “I haven’t seen you and Marley in ages.”

“We missed you, too. What’s the worst thing that happened to you today?”

He pouts slightly. “Burning my tongue on tea.”

“Hugs or kisses?”

“Hugs! Though I’ll accept kisses from a few very specific people.”

“Do you have a favorite smell?”

He pauses and cranes his neck to look behind the cameras. “Re?”

“Yeah?”

“What shampoo do you use?”

“Uhhh…” There’s a moment of quiet. “It’s something with lavender, I think.”

Sirius turns back to Dorcas. “Something with lavender.”

“How specific,” she laughs. “What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received?”

He smiles to himself. “There was a young woman, maybe sixteen or seventeen, that came to one of the games earlier this season. I saw her standing with a puck and went over, and while I was signing it she looks at me and says, ‘you are exactly what I wish my older brother was like’. Turns out, she was bisexual and her brother wasn’t super accepting of her. That was…” He shakes his head. “That meant the world to me. I’ll never forget it.”

“You’ve definitely made a big impact on the community,” Dorcas agrees. “What’s the last piece of content you consumed that made you cry?”

“I watched ‘Soul’ the other night and almost had to pause it at one point to pull myself together.”

“Do you prefer animated movies or live-action?”

“Animated, mostly because I wasn’t allowed to watch Disney movies as a kid, so I’ve been catching up as an adult and they rock.”

“What’s your nerdiest quality?

“I love watching documentaries.”

“Sweet or savory?” The back door creaks a bit as they walk back inside and the camera catches a few frames of Hattie and Remus running around the yard together.

“Sweet.”

“In ten years, you have a daughter. What age do you let her date?”

Sirius gives Dorcas a look. “Whenever she wants to. I’m going to impose curfews and stuff, but I’m the last person on the planet to police her love life.”

“Good answer. What’s a song you can listen to on repeat?”

“Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen. Absolute banger.”

“If you could switch lives with someone for a day, who would it be?”

“Arthur Weasley,” he says after a moment. “I would love to know what it feels like to get up in the morning and know you’re about to spend another day wrangling our team. It’s a miracle he hasn’t killed us all with his clipboard.”

“How do you know you’re in love?”

“Oh.” Sirius blinks at her in surprise at the sudden topic change. “Well, for me, I think it’s just…being comfortable around someone. Being able to spend time with them without saying anything and knowing you’re safe, no matter what. It’s the best feeling in the world.”

“What are you most excited about at this time in your life?”

A slight smile crinkles his eyes. “Getting married. That’s going to be awesome.”

“Who is your go-to for having a good laugh?”

“James Potter. He’s the best, and I love him.”

“Last question,” Dorcas says, sliding her list into her pocket. “Many LGBT+ people, especially teenagers, have spoken about how you’re an inspiration. Any words for them?”

Sirius hums in thought. “First of all, thank you for being so open and welcoming. I would never have expected the sheer force of people’s love to come through like that when so many people were saying horrible things. Second, to any kids out there who need to hear it: I’m proud of you. It takes a lot to be true to yourself and even if you’re still in the closet, you’re just as valid as the rest of us. Stay proud.”

“That’s a wrap.” Dorcas gives him a quick hug that he happily returns. “Thanks for letting us crash your morning, Cap.”

“Any time. Thanks for tuning in to Lion Pride, everyone!”

263 notes · View notes

kagedaddy · 3 years

Note

I'm not sure about the rule so can you do inarizaki with a model and streamer s/o? 💖

streamer / model - miya twins, suna & kita

warnings: none

miya atsumu

miya osamu

sun rintarou

kita shinsuke [masterlist]

hey hey, thanks for the request, no worries i don’t have rules for asks! hehe i think this scenario is cute, hope yah enjoy it! asks and dms are open for requests.

model

“Ready up angels!”the stage manager calls your attention, you were nervous and excited, tonight you were given the honour to open for the show, so you were going to be walking down the runway first. The make up team quickly does the last touches on your make up and the stage manager fixes the lingerie and giant (colour) wings on your back. You were ushered to the landing area, waiting for the artist and the music to play.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome (favourite artist).”

“Stand by first model, (first name).”the stage manager tells you and you nod your head, the intro of (favoruite song) starts playing and the stage manager cues you in. You make your entrance and the crowd goes wild, you strut down the runaway, looking out into the crowd and the unmistakable faux blonde hair of your boyfriend catches your attention, you meet his eyes and decided to sway your hips seductively a little a lot to the song. You see him bit his lip and it gives you a newfound energy on the runway, as you approach the artist they offer you their hand, twirling you around giving the wings on your back a fluttering effect.

As you arrive back in the landing you’re quickly pushed to the dressing room for a change of outfit and in minutes you’re out again, after a few more quick changes you are strutting one last time in the runaway, you wave and blow kisses to the audience, finding your blonde lover again and sending him an all too suggestive wink before giving a final pose. Once you’re all backstage, you and all the girls cheer at the success of the show, snapping pictures and all heading to the after party lounge.

Picking up your phone to message Atsumu but thick toned arms snake around your waist and you’re greeted by the familiar cologne of your boyfriend, “You looked really good, babe.”you turn in his arms, wrapping your own around his neck, pulling each other closer and giving him the kisses you both longed for. “Thanks Tsumu, I wanted to give you a show.”he growls at your words and you pull away, “Or maybe to your friends, kidding.”you tease your blonde lover, pressing hot kisses to his neck.

“Fuck babe, you were so hot. I’m glad I get to take you home.”

streamer

“Hi hi! Welcome to my stream, its (username) here!”

“I know it’s a little bit different today, we’re not gaming but we’re cooking with my partner and a Q & A!”you wave at the laptop you had set up for the stream session today, Osamu awkwardly waves at your stream, he was too cute, you talk about your plans bringing back the attention to yourself. “So babe what are we making for the stream?”you quickly fix the webcam so it would have a good view of the kitchen, “I’m not sure, what does your chat want.”he juts his thumb to your screen and your chat starts spamming all their suggestions.

‘[(random username) donated ¥ 10,000] It’s my birthday today, how about a cake?’

A donation notification sounded, the robotic voice of your text-to-speak read off the donation, “Ohh Happy happy birthday (random username), nee Osamu can we make a cake?”you clap your hands, singing the happy birthday song for your fan, “We can most definitely bake a cake.”he prepares the ingredients and you cheer as more of your fans begin chatting their favourite flavours and decorations the cake should have. Osamu mixes the batter and you stand beside him, he wants you to be his assistant and look pretty, while he does that, you begin to read out questions for you both to answer.

‘Osamu-san, is (first name) a good cook, what food has she cooked for you?’

You read out the first question, Osamu thinks about it for awhile before answering, “She isn’t a good cook, she cooked me some pancakes but half of it was burnt.”your face turns red in embarrassment and you smack your grey haired boyfriend, “So mean Samu, I thought you love me.”pouting at your partner and playfully crossing your arms. “I do babe but you really stink at cooking.”he presses a kiss to your forehead, deeping the blush of your cheeks.

“Okay next question!”

You answered as much questions as you guys could and the next thing you knew that cake was baked and cooled, ready for you to design it. You take the offset spatula and began smearing the icing on the cake, throwing in a couple sprinkles and writing illegible words on the cake. You stare at the monstrosity you designed, the cake was baked well credits to your lovely chef of a boyfriend but you were not skilled enough to do the pipping and the adding of sprinkles, “Good job, looks good babe.”Osamu presses a kiss to your forehead as you finished up the design, you knew he was being nice so you just accepted the affection, you both lifted the cake for your viewers to see.

“Well, I think it kinda turned out okay.”

streamer

You stifle a yawn as you stretch out your limbs, glancing over your clock it was 3:30 am you’ve been streaming for about four hours now. You were on a winning streak in Call of Duty and didn’t want to stop, your snipes were on fire today. “Babe come on, let’s head to bed. It’s late and you’re literally about to fall asleep.”the voice of your boyfriend draws your attention, “just one more game Shin.”smiling sleepily at the salt and pepper haired male, he pats your head and you lean up close enjoying his warm touch. ‘Aww you guys are the cutest’your chat goes wild, spamming it with hearts and you giggle at your chat but one message catches your attention, it read.

‘(username) get your boyfriend to play’

“Good idea chat!”your eyes light up, “Shin look, they want you to play!”you point at your screen, he turns to the monitor eyes following the chat, “Are you sure I’m not that good.”he rubs the back of his head unsure, “It’s okay, it’s all for fun!”you roll you chair to the side to give him some space but he stops you, instead he gestures for you to get up. Confused you follow anyways, Kita settles in your chair and he pats his lap, “come sit babe.”he pulls your body towards him until you’re sitting quite comfortably on his lap, “Will I get in trouble for this chat?”you laugh as you snuggle into you boyfriend’s warmth, shifting the headphones over to his head and quickly going over the controls with him. You set him up in a lobby and letting him pick whatever skin he prefers. Once he got it done, he was doing great, you were yelling at him on what to do and he panics, causing your chat to go crazy from they way you both interacted.

‘You are my parents, you guys are too cute.’

Your focus shifts to Kita, face morphed into concentration as he did his best in the game, he was so cute. He was able to kill a few players and survived the gulag, it was a funny sight to see. Your eyes become heavy, a small yawn leaving your lips, your eyes droop close and you lean closer into Kita but before you could completely drift off he wraps you up in his arms.

“Guys, I think I’ll end the stream here. It seems like she’s fallen asleep.”

model

Standing at the gate of Inarizaki high, you were lost, you were from a different school, “Ano, excuse me do you know where the volleyball club is?”you tap the nearest male’s shoulder to get his attention, he had blonde hair and wearing what you assume to be the volleyball club uniform. “You! You’re (last name)! You’re really pretty in person”his eyes widens in realisation, jaw hanging open as it dawns on him the model he’s seen on several magazine covers stands before him. “Shh!”you politely smile at the male, holding up your finger to your lips, he nods his head smiling widely. “I’m heading there, I can definitely take you!”he says a little bit excitedly and you can’t help but laugh at the male, “Thank you thank you.”you slightly bow to the male before following him to the direction of the gym.

“I’m Miya Atsumu by the way. Why are yah headin to the gym?”he introduces himself side glancing at you. “Well you already know me but I’m here to see someone.”walking up to the gym you can clearly hear the loud squeaking of shoes running across the court, you couldn’t help the nervous smile to show on your face. You wanted to surprise your boyfriend, he didn’t know you were in the area for a photo shoot so you wanted to visit him. You both walk in the gym, all the boys were busy warming up so they don’t notice, you wave off the blonde telling him to hush about your presence and walk off to the side sitting at one of the many benches. You watched interest as they played a practice match, you’ve never seen Suna play and man were you more attracted to the man, you were practically drooling as he flexed his muscles to block spikes. The coached called for a break and the boys all went to the benches near where you sat, as soon was Suna walks up, he meets your eyes.

“(first name) you’re here?”his eyes widens at the sight of you, “Surprise!”a smile forms on his lips, his sleepy demeanor changing into a more energetic one, “Do you know her?”Atsumu looks between you and Suna bewildered, “How do you know her, she’s like a big time model!”your boyfriend nods his head. “She’s my girlfriend.”the whole gym goes quiet staring wide eyed at their middle blocker, Suna takes this opportunity to go to sit beside you. Taking the towel from his hand, you wipe of his sweat before leaving a small peck on his cheek, “How do you have a girlfriend before me yah sleepy bastard.”Atsumu grumbles earning a laugh from you, “Aren’t your teammates such sweethearts.”you giggle at the scene, you did rounds of introductions and answer their questions about the both of you until they had to get back to practice.

The boys finished up and you waited for Suna by the gym doors, as soon as he stepped out the door you jumped into his arms, catching you without any problems, you wrap your legs around his waist so he’s carrying you. “I missed you.”finally pressing your lips against his, you sigh in happiness, “I missed you, too babe. But why didn’t you tell me you were coming, I could’ve skipped practice today or even class.”he snuggles closer to you but you just shook your head, “I wanted to surprise you, I was in the area for a photo shoot.”you kiss the tip of his nose, his face breaks out into a smile and connects your lips again. “You were so sexy when you played, you’re so good Rin.”you drop your head to whisper in the dark haired male’s ear, licking a stripe down to his jaw and his breathing hitches.

“Let’s go ‘cuddle’ in my bed.”

herro herro! the late valentines special will continue tomorrow click here to see it in [masterlist] under gala days, also added the other members for this request. hope yah guys enjoyed it, i not sure if it’s good, i’ve been super stressed lately some shit came up about my ex and the old apartment we use to live in. anyways leave a like and comment if you liked it! have a great one, jaa ne!

all the love xx

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theglitterypages · 3 years

Note

Hi! I’m a new follower so i’m not quite sure if you accept requests now but if u do! i have this request that i think would be really nice!

I just read ur one shot called “behind the scenes” and i literally fell in love with it! I was thinking if you could do a sequel or part two where levi and reader talk about what he said in the interview and come to terms with their feelings for each other and then he says that they will take it slow and court reader properly.

After that, they would have like cute moments together like, she goes live on ig or such and he join and then flirts with her through the comment section 😆🥰 they have like small dates. And then when they film again for the next season, the other actors will ask what’s the deal with the both of them and Levi says he’s courting reader ><

Just a thought hehe i hope you have a great day!

Title: Behind The Scenes Part Two

Pairings: Levi x fem! Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3000

A/N: Hello darling, I'm so sorry it took me so long to respond, I've been a little busy in cleaning our house these days and I'm trying to spend less time using gadgets that's why I rarely find time to write. Anyways, I hope you'll like this one. This is not proofread so Expect many errors, I will edit this in no time. Thanks for requesting dearie💗💗💗

Read Part 1 Here

°°°°°

“Let's see each other next season! Good luck on your upcoming projects especially you Miss Marvel!” Zeke walked towards you and hugged you tight.

The whole cast just finished eating dinner, it was a dinner filled of laughter, the whole cast talked about the days on set, the silly things and other stuffs. Throughout the years of filming attack on titan, every one became each other's best friends and every time the filming are finished it's kinda sad because it will take time before you guys start filming together again.

“Goodnight everyone!”

Levi guided you towards the parking lot, his car was parked beside Eren who's now opening the door for Mikasa. “Drive straight my sister home, it's late.” Eren nodded and saluted to Levi before he climbed up the car and drove off.

Levi, on the other hand also opened the door of the car for you before he entered the car himself.

••••

“Thanks for driving me home, Lev. Do you want go inside for some tea?”

“It's fine, I don't wanna keep you up. We barely had enough time to sleep these days because of the promotions and stuffs.” Despite of saying that Levi is still standing in front of you, his eyes are full of hesitation and he kept opening his mouth just to pursed his lips together again as if holding himself back.

You are holding yourself back as well, you wanted to talk about what he said on the interview, you wanted to make things clear but you're too scared to do so.

Levi is a man who's hard to read, you wouldn't know if what he's saying is for the sake of fun or it is because he meant it.

Maybe he said that because you two are good friends, right, that's the only logical reason that popped into your mind.

You smiled fakely, trying to hide your disappointment to the fact that he's not gonna say anything, you get ready to turn your back on him to go inside your house but Levi suddenly held your hand, causing you to look back at him with wide eyes, “W-What is it?” you stammered.

“I mean it.”

“You mean what?”

Your heart is beating so fast, you're suddenly wondering it is because of Levi or it is because you have a heart problem.

Levi sighed and squeezed your hand gently as he looked into your eyes, he prepared himself a lot of times already but why is he getting afraid all the time?

He wanted to say it, say that this is more than just a friendship, that this is more than a job, that what he's doing is not a publicity stunt but he's tongue-tied. His mind went blank the moment he met your gaze, everything that he practiced before all of this has gone into the abyss.

But if he won't take a step forward, he'll always be at the same place and he wouldn't want that.

“I like you—no scratch that, I'm in love with you.”

“We had no liquor earlier so you can't be drunk. I have no times for jokes right now Lev.” you wanted to say that you like him too but what if this is just a joke? Can you afford to lose the friendship you to has?

Levi took a deep breath before he slowly nipped your chin and leaned down, his lips almost touching yours. “I know this is ridiculous but I..fell in love with you. At first I thought it was just because I'm portraying a man who's possibly in love with your character but as time passes by, I realized I'm not portraying Levi's feelings anymore.” he closed his eyes and gulped hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he do so.

“On Erwin's last day on shoot, I've realized that my remaining time with you are short and I realized that I'm not ready to let all of this end just like that.”

Flashback

“Okay so Levi you'll be choosing between Armin and Erwin, you know what to do just show us that you're heartbroken without obviously doing it and then once Samantha and Hanji came in look at Samantha with a face of relief, because in this scene Levi is glad to see her alive.” Levi nodded to the director, the make up artists put more fake bloods all over his face and when he sat nearby Erwin, the latter opened his eyes.

“Come on, man. Loosen up, the camera's not yet rolling.” Erwin smiled, Levi is a passionate actor and he gives his best in his craft, this series for example, Levi doesn't have any stunt doubles, he learned martial arts for the role and he did great portraying Levi Ackerman.

“Lights, Camera, Action!”

The scene went well and everyone cheered since this is the last day of filming for Erwin's character, Armin immediately hugged his older co-actor, Jean and Connie did the same while Mikasa and Sasha are clapping and smiling at the production team.

You and Levi are standing side by side behind Erwin, “This is sad.” you commented while Levi sighed beside you, “Imagine what my old guy feels.” Levi told you referring to his character in the series, you shrugged your shoulders and walked towards Erwin to hug him.

“You're the best, Commander Erwin.” you smiled and did the salute in the series before chuckling, “Shinzou wo Sasageyo!” you told him and the other actors heard you, everyone started doing the salute and shouted, “Shinzou wo Sasageyo!” Erwin looked around and smiled at everyone.

“Oh come on! It's not like I'm real dead, it's just my character.”

That wraps up the filming that day, while everyone was busy taking pictures with Erwin because this is his last day, Levi remained watching the whole cast from afar.

His eyes landed on you as you cry hugging Erwin, telling him that you'll miss working with him.

That was when Levi had come to realize that once this series is finished, he will never be ready to share the last moment on and off screen with you.

He's been working in this industry for a long time, not all friendships formed in work could last after a project is done, that was one of the reason why he's doing his best not to get attached especially in leading ladies but right now, for working so long with these whole cast it is inevitable to be attached to someone so similar to him yet different in other ways.

A small smile made its way across his lips as he see you laugh with the casts as you stood beside his sister.

One thing has come to his mind at that moment, he will never be ready to let you go.

End of Flashback

“I don't want to pressure you or anything. We can take it slow, I'm ready to court you properly, I haven't done any of that before but I'll do everything...let's just give it a try.”

All you could do was stare at him, blinking slowly as you tried processing everything he said, it was surprising to see him tremble like this, you can feel how cold his hands are and how his eyes are glassy because of the tears forming at the corner of his eyes.

“Well...I like you too but we'll take things slow, right? I don't want any of us to be hurt.”

“I understand—wait, what? You like me too?”

“Should I take that back?”

“No!”

You yelped with surprise when he hugged you tightly, his arms wrapped around you as he whisper sweet nothings on your ear.

“Levi it's too tight.” you giggled and he immediately pulled away, his cheeks are red so are his ears, he's cute with that blush but the way he smiled at you makes you feel like you've won the lottery, who knew you could see the Levi Cold Ackerman smile like this?

“I promise, I'll do my best.” he told you before pressing his lips on your forehead.

••••••

“Miss Y/N? Ahm the show asked if you could go live on Instagram to entertain the fans and inform them that you'll be in the Night Show.” you smiled at the staff and took the tablet in her hands since you'll be using the show's account to go live.

You started the live while your hairstylist is still fixing your hair, “As you guys can see my beloved hairstylist is not yet done fixing my hair, I will be at the Night Show! Oh my gosh I don't know what to say next, I'm just gonna read the comments.” your hairstylist laughed at your silliness and took a glance on the screen before turning her attention back to your hair.

“Okay, @ynsupremacy says she's been waiting for me to appear on the show. Oh thank you very much dearie! I've always wanted to be here too thanks for your support.”

“Oh my gosh take it easy babes, I can't read everything in just one go.”

You scrolled through the comments and sees a familiar username, “Someone deadass spammed the comment section you guys, Levi you little bastard stop spamming. Let my babies talk to me.” you narrowed your eyes at the screen before reading Levi's comment.

“I can't believe Angels go live on Instagram, says @captainlev.”

You looked back at your hairstylist after hearing her read Levi's comment, you blushed and she laughed at your reaction before shaking her head. “What? I was just reading. Nice on Captain Lev!” she smirked at the camera before looking back at you.

“I'll be back in a minute.” she said before walking out of the room.

You could still see Levi's comments but you did your best to ignore it so you could talk to your fans. “Hello @erenlegalwife happy birthday! I'm gonna tell Eren that it's his legal wife's birthday.” you chuckled. It's amusing to see their usernames, the comments are also hilarious but there are some bashers in the comments. You didn't mind them and just proceeded in interacting with your fans.

Another comment was shown but before you could even read it someone covered your eyes and you squealed, you removed their hands off your eyes and when you looked back you gasped in surprise.

“You kept on ignoring my comments, meanie.” Levi smirked as he opened his arms, asking for a hug and when you're too slow to hug him he's the one to walk towards you and hug you tight as he laughed loudly. “I scared you big time didn't I?” he teased.

You hit his back and pullled away from the hug. “God, I hate you.” it's been two months since you two confessed to each other, just like what he said, you two are taking it slow.

You guys are going out on dates from time to time yet there's no official relationship status, you didn't need the label actually, you're sure Levi wouldn't break your heart or anything, you just want to enjoy every time that you're with him.

“Okay, Levi will be joining us too but believe me I have no idea that he's a guest as well.” you told the fans as they ask you in the comment section.

“Figured I gotta surprise you, it's much better this way right?”

“You told me you're filming for that movie, big liar.”

Levi laughed and pinched your cheeks gently, “Sorry, I just want to surprise you.” he smiled sweetly and you looked away, blushing. “Pft. Never mind...” you bit your lower lip and scrolled through the comments but Levi already read something out loud.

“Ooh... @levisamlover says ‘you two look good together, just date already’ thank you for that. I also think that we look really good with each other, thanks for supporting my claim.” he smirked.

••••

“Are you sure you're fine with us just having a date at home? Well you probavly don't wanna let the press see us.” Levi asked as he wrapped jis arms around your shoulder, pulling you close to him as you two watch a movie.

“Hmm, nah the press has been seeing us two a lot but I don't care, I just want to stay close with you like this.” you told him, hugging him sideways, Levi chuckled and kissed the top of your head before feeding you some popcorn.

In the middle of the movie, Levi looked down on you just to see you asleep with a pout on your lips. He chuckled to himself and he slowly scoop you up being careful not to wake you up. He carried you towards your bedroom and he lay you down on the bed gently.

He smiled at your sleeping form before kissing your forehead. “I love you, do you know that? The day's ending yet I'm still 'ere falling in love with you again and again, deeper and deeper at every moment that passes by.” he took his phone from his pocket and took a picture of you, it became his new hobby, he's not the type to love taking pictures before but now that he has you, he wants to capture every moment.

He wants every moment to be saved, so he can go back to it every time that he misses you.

••••

“Nice job YN! Another action stunt beautifully done!”

You let out a sigh of relief when you're done filming your part, you guys are filming Eren's fight with the War Hammer Titan, along with the Survey corps fighting scene.

When you've finally done your part you immediately sat on the floor, feeling drained because of the insane stunts you had to do.

Levi was quick to hand you a bottled of water, he also naturally took his handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe your sweats, technically it is your PA's job but Levi was way faster than them.

Zeke and Reiner who just got finished their parts too, laughed at the scene because your PA was standing awkwardly as she watch Levi steal her job. “Man, I can't be the only one feeling that something changed with this two.” Zeke smirked nudging Reiner's sides, the latter hummed to agree before flicking his eyes on you and Levi.

“He's not even using his trailer anymore. He's with her all the time, Levi is acting sus.”

“Not to mention the fact that they kept on stealing glances all the time.” Hanji appeared behind the two holding her phone in her hand as she captures a photo of you and Levi laughing together. “Once we caught 'em in the act they'll spill the beans, believe me.” Armin who just finished filming also appeared holding his bottled water.

“I have a plan.” Hanji smirked deviously.

•••

“What, you're telling me to flirt with YN? Mikasa, I don't want to get killed by your brother.” Eren complained when he found out that the plan that they were thinking was getting Levi jealous so he would spill the tea.

Mikasa glared at Eren and smacked the back of his head. “Just do it, we'll be here to do something once he attempt to kill you.” Eren stared at her unbelievably before looking at his older brother. “Why don't you tell Armin to do it?” Zeke pushed his glasses up his nose before shaking his head. “Nah, Armin is like her son, Levi won't get jealous but you, a fuckboy would appear as a threat.” Zeke explained and everyone agreed.

“Man you're the one who flirts like a Seahorse.” Armin told him.

Eren narrowed his eyes, unable to understand Armin's sentence. “What do you mean by that smart-ass?” he growled.

“Seahorses flirts a lot, you're just like them.”

“I hate you all.”

Zeke got impatient of his brother's drama and he immediately pushed him towards your direction, the poor man almost landes face flat on the floor if you weren't able to grab his arm.

“Eren!” you gasped and helped him up, when Eren got up his face is pale, he smiled awkwardly and looked back at his brother to send a glare on his way before looking back at you. “You look beautiful today, YN.” he complimented.

You were taken aback by the sudden compliment so you just smiled before tapping his back, “Thanks, you look handsome today too, nice stunts by the way.” Eren looked around and he sees no traces of Levi so he loosened up a bit.

“I was just wondering if you'd like to have some coffee, there's this new coffee shop nearby and I've heard they have nice coffee.”

“Oh yes su—”

“She doesn't like coffee.”

Eren wanted to run when he heard Levi spoke behind him but he had no choice but to look at him, “Hey Lev! What's up?” Levi raised his brow to Eren, he didn't respond to him and went to your side as he glares at Eren.

“Play nice.”

“What am I? Your dog?” he whispered and you glared at him. “I'm just saying that you should act nice.” Levi crossed his arms over his chest and let out a deep breath. “I am nice.” you shook your head and massaged the bridge of your nose, there's no point in calming a jealous Levi.

“Ohohoho! I see what's happening here! Seems like sugar plum and captain grumpy is hiding somethin' eh? Spill it. What's with the possesiveness and lovey-dovey moments?”

Levi's eyes widened for a secons before he looked away, his ears and cheeks are red. Zeke's teasing smirk tells him that the man already know something, Hanji, Mikasa and Armin's stares are also meaningful, it seems like they're pressuring him to give an answer.

Levi clicked his tongue and acted cool as he looked at his co-actors and sister.

“I'm courting her, got any problem with that? Flirt with her again and you're done, Yeager.” he held your hand and dragged you away from the group while Zeke and Eren's laughter boomed at the whole set.

“YEAGERS! QUIET!”

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