#at least the others are impulsive but no she Plans This she is acting this way on purpose and that’s way funnier | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovelybluebirdie · 6 months

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The astonishing failure of a simple plan

Astarion x f!Reader

Summary: Astarion tries to wrap his head around you, when a sudden tumult in camp occurs.

[AO3]

The concept of altruism had always been quite strange to Astarion.

Doing something solely for benefiting others, without one's own needs primarily in mind – how outrageously foolish.

And yet, he caught himself considering the idea more often since he had met you.

You, the soft-hearted soul who always seemed to stumble directly into the next best opportunity to solve the problems of complete strangers that would cross your way – gladly interfering with any sort of personal drama.

Although you and the rest of your travel companions had been infected with a tadpole to the brain, leaving you in desperate need for a cure to this rather urgent condition, somehow you would always manage to save a child from getting gruesomely killed by harpies, pick a fight with a powerful hag to rescue some random woman you just met or annihilate an entire camp full of goblins to ensure safe travels for a bunch of Tieflings – without at least demanding a proper compensation for all your troubles.

You just did those things, and it drove Astarion mad.

Perhaps one of the reasons for your undeniable saviour complex were the recurring thoughts that plagued you. You had once explained it as particularly dark urges, the impulse to hurt and kill spreading its roots inside your brain, evolving into a yearn to act out the most gruesome visions one could imagine. Gloriously kill an innocent to bathe in their blood, crush a squirrel to death with your bare fists or rip off a stranger's hand in need of help – malicious ideas that would otherwise never cross your mind.

The origin of these unwanted desires were unknown to you, but you sensed that it had to be connected to your past somehow – a part of you that had yet to be completely revealed. Of course, you had sworn to give everything in your might to resist them. And luckily for the life of your travel companions, you were mostly able to succeed.

Regardless of these murderous tendencies coming with your affliction, you were still the kindest person Astarion had ever met. A contradiction in itself, and yet you were – well, you.

Lately, Astarion had caught himself just perceiving you.

Taking in your soft expression as you were mindlessly humming a song to yourself, sitting barefoot by the river, hands elbow-deep in the cold water to wash your clothes, sticking this stupid little melody to his head for the rest of the day.

While resting at camp, he had watched you reading – one of your favourites, the lexicon of bird species in Faerûn – a terribly boring topic, but you seemed to indulge in the lengthy descriptions of a blue jay’s wingspan. You would fetch Astarion a caught smile between slowly turned pages, eyes half-closed, before eventually dozing off in the flickering light of the fire. He had barely been fast enough to catch the edges of your slipping book, saving it from landing in the dirt.

The other day, he noticed you carefully picking flowers from the road, acting like it was the most important task on your schedule. Later, you would sit in silence, brows furrowed in concentration and hands busy with knotting them into a beautiful headband. A gift for Karlach, since you had sensed that she hadn’t been too well on this particular day.

A sickeningly sweet gesture.

And yet, so typically you. Affectionate, always looking after your dearest companions.

He remembered the feeling of you casually squeezing his shoulder after an exhausting battle, the concerned look you would give him as you noticed that he had been injured, and how you insisted on treating his wounds with the utmost care, not leaving his side before you made sure his bleeding had entirely stopped.

There was the sensation of your fingers gently forming circles through his white curls, while he had buried his fangs deep inside your neck, greedily gulping down the blood you had been willingly offered to him. The quickening of your pulse, the little shivers your body would give away as he was feeding on you.

Your thumb shyly placed against his brow, the tender movement as you traced his features. The sincerity in your voice as you described the outlines of his face to him, after he had shared with you that his lack of reflection had turned the image of his own appearance into a dark shape from his past. Profane vanity was all he had initially seeked from you that evening, listening to you calling him beautiful and stroking his ego, and yet there had been a certain intimacy resonating in that moment. You had described to him what the world would see when it looked at him – what you would see.

Astarion groaned and pulled his blanket up to his chin, almost covering his bottom lip with the thin woollen fabric.

Gods, how you irritated him.

How you had infested his mind with your nauseating goodness.

When you first met, Astarion had decided that precisely this outstanding character trait of yours should be your undoing.

You offered an easy prey, he had thought to himself in a blissful glee, as he imagined all the ways in which he would bargain your trust.

Luring and deceiving were practically moulded into him, therefore charming you appeared as easy as picking the lock on a broken chest. In order to survive under his former master Cazador, he had become an unwilling adept in these abilities.

Astarion flinched as the memory of his ruthless tormentor reentered his mind. Cazador had turned him into a vampire spawn almost two centuries ago and made him his slave, forcing him to a life in complete darkness and made him use his body to bring more than thousands of victims to him.

In order to deceive you, Astarion had formed a rather simple plan: Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you would never turn on him – old habits that cemented over the past centuries had kicked in.

Therefore, it should have been easy with you. Instinctive. Following a pattern of studied behaviour, throwing his best lines at you until you would breathe his name between tousled sheets - leaving your body aching for him and trusting him unconditionally.

All he had to do was follow this nice little plan of his, deepening the selfish bond he aimed to create between the two of you in order to secure his safety. To get you on his side.

It should have been nothing more than an insurance. A simple transaction, so to speak: His honeyed words for your protection. Performing an act, yourself delightfully unaware of your leading role in this little play of his.

Well, and what else could it ever be? After all, manipulating others in order to get something out of them was the only way he had ever known.

And yet: with you, things had somewhat felt entirely different.

At least, his plan had evidently borne fruit by now: Not only were you voluntarily offering your blood to help him with his cravings after he had revealed his past of being a vampire spawn, you had also sworn to help him finding out the meaning of the scars on his back and dealing with Cazador when the time would come.

Still, instead of savouring his accomplishment he found himself distracted with his attempts to wrap his head around you.

Sometimes he wanted nothing more than to peek inside this little skull of yours, picking your brain until he would satisfy his curiosity with you and determine the reason why you were lingering on his mind of late.

He wanted to figure out what made him actually want to listen to the things you had to say, admire your wit when you would share a heartfelt laugh over one of your foolish jokes or why he would seek your company after a night spent in familiar solitude. And even worse: Why in the Hells he had caught himself enjoying how your face would light up after you had saved another unfortunate soul in need on your travels.

Astarion sighed and pushed his fingers to his eyes, hoping that pressing them shut would free him from his vexing thoughts, as a sudden noise distracted him.

The pounding of hurried footsteps and jumbled voices rose outside his tent, growing louder and faster.

He let out another disgruntled sigh.

Gods, what would it be now?

Whoever was roaming around your camp this late at night, screaming like an animal, better had a rightful reason to do so.

His annoyance fell off immediately as he came to understand what the unfamiliar voices were yelling: Your name. Followed by pleas for help.

Before he even comprehended what exactly posed this sudden level of urgency, his feet had already dragged him outside in the dark, a cold breeze brushing against his skin.

“What is going on?” he heard his own voice meddling into the sudden tumult.

Then he spotted you: Arms and legs hanging lifelessly, brought down on your bedding by one of the Harpers he remembered from the Last Light Inn. You were followed by a few other Harpers who positioned themselves around your tent - they were desperately shouting for a healer.

An icy grip twisted Astarion’s chest as he stormed forward to reach you, stomping through mud and dirt.

“Is she hurt?” His voice broke as he saw your face. You were lying on your blanket, eyes rolling behind closed lids, cheeks all flushed and a thin line of sweat forming on your brow. You looked utterly terrible: Weakened and sick, seemingly in a feverish delirium.

Astarion had seen you wounded before, due to blood and gore being in the nature of your journey to free yourself from the tadpoles, but never like this: more dead than alive, not moving a single major muscle.

What in the Nine Hells had happened to you?

Astarion swallowed hard before he found his voice again and turned to the ones who had brought you in.

“What did you do to her?” he hissed, readying himself to grab the Harper next to him by the throat and shake him until his tongue would loosen. “Explain yourself, now!”

Before any of the men could open their agape mouths in response to Astarion’s daunting request, Shadowheart broke the heated atmosphere with a soft push to his shoulder and made way to kneel beside you.

“Let me see her.” She spoke quickly as she felt for your pulse and started to spread her hands protectively over you, encompassing you in a blue radiance. She was already casting a healing spell.

“Your friend, she… she was fighting a shadow creature, and it must have poisoned her,” the Harper that had carried you pressed between quivering lips. “We already sent someone to call for Isobel. She will know what to do.” As he met Astarion’s furious glimpse, he hastily added “They – they should be here any minute.”

Poison? Astarion wrinkled his nose. Indeed, your blood smelled different – somewhat tainted.

He focused his gaze back to you, suppressing the urge to slap that damned Harper straight across the face.

Instead of acting out this violent thought, he sank to his knees next to Shadowheart and carefully laid one hand on your cheek. You were burning hot and letting out ragged breaths between your cracked lips.

“I can cast my spells, but I am not versed in the toxins of the Dark”, Shadowheart declared with the most tensed look on her face, her magic still hovering over your body. “We need Isobel – fast.”

Another twist in Astarion’s chest. He racked his brain for a solution, his hand still held helplessly against your cheek. You were in need of healing, desperately, and more adept than Shadowheart could provide. His senses began to blur.

Through the pulsing sound of blood rushing through his ears he could only gather a few scraps of the enfolding conversation between the Harpers and the rest of your companions that had hurried to your aid.

It was enough to paint a picture of what happened to you: During your night watch, you had noticed a Harper being dragged away in the shadows and went immediately to his aid. With a few quick blows, you had managed to kill the attacking creature and save the unfortunate man from his demise, but for its final act it stroked you with its claw, leaving a deep scratch on your right arm – the source of the suspected poison that would flow through your veins.

Astarion bit the inside of his cheek, spilling blood. His mind was racing.

Of course you had gotten yourself in danger over saving someone else again.

In normal times, he would have loved to tease you for your foolish act of heroism and give you an “I told you so”, probably earning a defiant look from you while you would emphasise the importance of helping those in need.

Hells, he desired nothing more than to listen to your moralising if it meant that he could just hear your voice right now.

But instead of lecturing him on morality, you were still lying on your mattress, unmoving and probably on the verge of death, and he couldn’t think of a single way to rid you of this terrible state.

He felt numb. Useless. It made him sick.

A gut wrenching thought rushed over him.

What if you would die right now – just like that?

Before he could… Well, before he could do what exactly?

The image of your limp lifeless body with dead staring eyes entered his mind.

No. You didn’t deserve to die. You couldn’t die. Not like this. Not now, not ever, not from saving a goddamned Harper.

Then you whimpered.

Silent, almost inaudible, but enough to set Astarion ablaze.

The urge of punishing every single one who had dared to lead you to harm overcame him like a ruthless wave crashing shore. He wanted to cut open, to rip apart and to send everyone into eternal hell.

Fire took over his crimson eyes as he bared his fangs, the look of a predator on his pale face, ready to curse those wretched Harpers or worse, as another quiet sound spilled from your lips.

“As… Astar... ion…?”

He froze.

His name – spoken as gentle as a flicker of moonlight glistening through leaves. Not moaned in lust or used to denounce him in anger – just… him being called, in the most faintest way.

He felt his eyes wet before he even knew it, his mouth opened for a split second only to his lips pressing it shut again, forcing himself to blink before a single tear could make its way down his cheek.

You sounded so fragile. So ... in need of him.

“Asta...rion?”

His chest twisted again.

He wanted to whisper words of comfort to you, chanting them over and over like a prayer, assuring you that everything would be alright.

“Don’t speak,” he managed to breathe in a cracked voice. “I’m here, my sweet.”

Your eyes were still closed and moving fast underneath your lids. You spoke in a fever, and he could sense that you were in pain.

Astarion brushed a strand of hair off your sweaty brow, using just the tips of his slender fingers. A most careful touch, as if a hint of deeper force would break you.

Then, there was no more sound coming from you.

“Hells, where is that goddamned cleric? If she doesn’t arrive here any second, I’m going to drag her over myself-” Astarion’s voice was nothing more than a helpless plea. He sounded way less threatening than he had wished for, almost spilling those tears he had to hold back, and seconds before bursting if there would be no aid for you right now.

“No need to shout, my friend. I’m right here.”

Isobel. Finally.

A fire in his stomach again.

How dared she sound so calm, considering your condition?

With haste, Isobel knelt between him and Shadowheart and opened her pouch, revealing a set of different sized bottles. She began to examine you with concentration, lifting your eyelids to look at your pupils, checking your vitals and thoroughly inspecting the wound the monster had inflicted on you.

Astarion gritted his teeth in anticipation, a thick lump forming in his throat.

“Will she be alright?” he eventually demanded, his voice cracking like a violin out of tune, but Isobel ignored him and silently continued her treatment.

“Astarion, I’m worried about her too, but I think we shouldn’t disturb Isobel right now,” Wyll interfered softly and squeezed his shoulder.

Taken aback, Astarion pressed his lips together. Of course Wyll would be the voice of reason in a situation like this, but unfortunately he wasn’t wrong. Isobel was the most profound healer available, an expert on the shadow creatures - and unlike himself, she offered the possibility to save you.

“As I thought,” Isobel mumbled after a minute that had felt like eternity and opened one of her potions with a loud plop. “She will need this.”

She then put her thumb on your chin, carefully opening your mouth and pouring in a dark liquid, before she continued to clear your wound.

Astarion eagerly watched her hands treating you with expertise, still not laying his gaze off you.

“I gave her a powerful antidote,” Isobel began to explain calmly as she spread a colourless balm on your torn flesh. “Such poison needs fast treatment. Fortunately, if dealt with in time, it can still be cured. I’m glad I was able to aid your dear friend before it made its way through her entire body. Otherwise… It most likely would have been fatal.”

Astarion’s muscles tightened and his stomach turned. You almost died tonight.

Isobel seemed to notice his tension, so she quickly added “With this antidote, she will be completely fine in the morning. Her fever might continue through the night, but I promise that there is no more reason for concern.”

“Are you completely sure of that, Isobel?” Shadowheart asked, seeking out reassurance that the treatment truly had succeeded.

“I swear by Selune, she is not at risk anymore. The antidote freed her from the poison and the balm will heal her wound,” the cleric responded confidently. “Her body will do the rest.”

The tight, dark blanket that had wrapped around Astarion’s chest began to loosen up.

“I… I’m glad that she’ll be alright,” was all he managed to vocalise as the adrenaline slowly faded from his body.

“Thank you, Isobel,” added Gale, who had been nervously walking up and down your tent as Isobel had tended to your condition.

Even Shadowheart, a devoted follower of Lady Shar, spared a few words of gratitude towards the cleric following her sworn enemy’s beliefs.

A general sense of ease took over from the strained atmosphere that had prevailed just a moment ago.

“She needs rest and quiet now,” Isobel claimed and gave a telling look to your companions and the assembly of Harpers that gathered around your tent.

An unspoken demand that it was time to give you some space now.

“I will stay with her,” Astarion announced to Shadowheart and the remaining group after Isobel and the Harpers had left for the Last Light Inn. There had been a quick discussion if you should have been brought with them, but eventually it was decided that you were more safe in your own bedroll than being dragged through the shadow infested lands again.

“Are you sure, Astarion? I’d be more than glad to watch over her myself,” Shadowheart responded, not hiding her surprise over his proposition.

Even if Astarion wasn’t sure about anything in particular right now, he felt the pressing need to remain by your side until you would open your eyes again, ensuring that Isobel had spoken the truth and the threat had passed.

“Well, I won’t be able to get some more rest tonight anyway, so I might as well just stay over here,” he attempted in a more indifferent manner. “Besides, her tent is by far the most comfortable one our excuse for a camp has to offer, and I’m looking forward to indulging in some peace and quiet after all of this night's terrible trouble.”

Karlach listened to his explanation in slight amusement and gave him a supporting nod. Liar, her smiling face said.

“Well, if you’re sure, and there are no objections… Then it’s fine with me, I suppose,” Shadowheart replied with a raised eyebrow. “But promise to shout for me if something’s the matter, will you?”

“Gods, would you please give me some credit here, you mother hen. I got this,” Astarion said and rolled his eyes. On the inside, he was still shaken up, and he could only hope that the slight pitch in his voice wouldn’t give him away. “So hush hush everyone, off you go now. Get in some beauty sleep, as you all are evidently in need of it.”

“Chk!” Lae’zel interfered in the most angry whisper she could muster. “Leave Astarion to look after her for the night if he insists. I’m certain he knows the fate that will await him should she come to harm under his supervision.” Lae’zel’s very own way to express that she came to care about you.

“Charming as ever,” Astarion replied at this implicit threat, still holding no intention to move merely an inch from his spot next to your bedroll.

“You see, Shadowheart? There seems to be no need to worry about our dearest friend,” Gale added with a slight chuckle. “I suppose she’ll be in good hands for tonight.”

Shadowheart let out a grunt and readied herself to leave with the others, but not before she would lay one last gaze on you, ensuring that you had not gotten any worse over the last few minutes.

Astarion watched your chest rise and fall in a soothing rhythm.

What a mess this night had been.

From the moment the Harpers had brought you in it had been like a heavy weight violently crushing his chest over and over, turning him into an angry, scared wreck, and the pressure only began to wear off by now.

Realistically, he knew that you were safe and the danger had passed. But then, why was there such an uneasiness lingering on him?

He had been scared in his life before, probably more times than he could recall, and yet… The fear over losing you tonight had shifted something in him.

You had called for him in your feverish delirium, as you were lying helpless and in pain.

It was an image hard to shake off.

Astarion sighed, when he noticed that you were still in your armour. There was no way in Hell he would let you sleep in this reeking dirt-covered piece of cloth, so his dexterous fingers began to peel it off, piece by piece. Carefully not to wake you, he stored your armour aside, until you were lying in your undergarment. Then he took your blanket and wrapped it around you.

With another gentle motion, he let his finger stroke along your brow, brushing over the dampness of your skin. You were still feeling hot.

His nose wrinkled as he pulled down his sleeve to cautiously wipe your sweat away. There was no need to get up to fetch some extra cloth, and he would be perfectly capable of cleaning his shirt the next morning.

For a while, Astarion would just watch over you, mustering your relaxed face and ensuring that your breathing continued steadily. You seemed to be in a calm sleep, still feverish, but evidently better looking than the moment you had been brought in.

The next morning came to his mind. Perhaps he might attempt to prepare your favourite food for you, a simple but apparently very delicious berry porridge. Not that he had any particular experience on the matter, since his culinary needs were restricted to blood these days, but if someone like Gale was able to cook it, he surely would be too. Maybe he would surprise you with the dog or the owlbear for some morning snuggling in bed, as you seemed to never spend a single day without indulging in some pets on your journey. Well, he probably should bring in both. Oh how delighted you would be, waking up to these furry little beasts, he thought with a grin.

Then it hit him.

Shit.

His nice, simple plan with you had truly and utterly fallen apart.

What should have been nothing more than an insurance for his safety, a way to rid himself of the tadpole in his brain and offer him a powerful ally to face Cazador some day, had developed into something he never experienced before.

He genuinely cared about you - more than he thought himself to be capable of. You had become most precious to him, and he felt the urgent need to be honest with you.

You were incredible, and you didn’t deserve to be lured into a selfish alliance.

You deserved something real.

He wanted things between you to be something real - even if he didn’t know what real looked like. After all, charming and deceiving others was the only way he had ever known. Forming a sincere connection and being close with someone posed an entirely new and remarkably scary sensation. But maybe, with you…

Your faint voice brought him back from his thoughts.

“Asta...rion?”

His face softened, not as an act of will, more like a reflex.

You looked at him with half-open eyes, sounding still a little weak.

He bowed his head closer to you and spoke softly, letting his thumb brush gently over your cheek.

"There you are, my little fool. Getting ourselves in trouble over our constant need to do something heroic again, weren’t we?”

“Mh… Is that so?” you asked in a raspy voice, offering a weak smile through glistening eyes underlined with dark circles, your hair pressed damp to your skull. “And you saved me, I suppose?”

Astarion’s heart grew tight with adoration. To him, you had never looked more beautiful.

“I’m afraid not, my dear. Actually, you have been poisoned by a shadow creature, so you were in need of a more adept healer. Isobel treated you.”

“Mhm.. How bad was it?”

He thought for a moment, the fear he had felt rushing over him for a split second and piercing his chest like ice.

"Well, not as bad as it could have. I’ll spare you the details for tomorrow.”

“That’s… good.” You hummed, sounding drowsy and still a little feverish. Then, you gave a soft plea. “Astarion… Would you… stay with me tonight?”

There it was again, a pull at his heartstrings.

Gods, you wicked little thing.

“Of course, my darling. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

A promise, unimaginable honest had it been another time, with another person, but this was now, and this was you.

He gave another gentle press to your hand, carefully intertwining your fingers with his, as if to underline his words.

"Thank you,” you whispered, eyes closed for a second before you let your gaze meet his again. Another quiet mumble. "Could you... hold me please?"

Astarion was overwhelmed by your vulnerability for a second. He wanted nothing more than to provide you comfort, to make you feel safe, but didn't know if he should give in. Even though you had often shared your bedroll these days, this somehow felt more open, more intimate.

Before he realised what he was doing, he swiftly lifted off your blanket to slip underneath and laid his arm around your waist, pulling you in close.

He could feel your hand on his chest. Your head gently resting on his shoulder, fingers loosely clutching around the end of his collar. Your warm body against his cold.

Astarion let his fingers gently caressing the small of your back.

You were breathing steady, already seeming to doze off again. A soothing calmness came over him.

“I hope… I didn’t worry you too much,” you mumbled, more asleep than awake.

Astarion bit his lip.

“Well…” he said and cleared his throat. “I managed.” A complete understatement of events, but this was also a confession for another day. “Rest now, my love.”

Astarion continued to gently stroke your back, his lips turning into an affectionate smile. He never thought his heart to be this full over the failure of such a simple plan.

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elvirable · 9 months

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Ambrosia (Act 1)

[ Astarion x f!Reader ] | ao3 link

rating: explicit | word count: 2k | status: ongoing themes/tags: vaginal sex, feelings realization, denial of feelings, light smut.. for now, and a whole lotta angst, will add more smut tho in the next chapters, soulmates, fluff, written as a glimpse into his mind during each act ———–

Astarion would never tell you, though - it was his little secret, one he hid away just for himself.

In other words: A delve into Astarion's thoughts, starting with the day he met you. *will update description at some point. ———– A/N: i wrote this as a peek into Astarion's mind throughout Act 1. plan to continue as i progress throughout the game. lmk what you think and if you like this style!

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Grief had a penchant for wearing different masks.

Phantom faces that slithered through shadows, white-hot wrath that clawed at the throat, an endless gnawing that swallowed one whole: all faces of a primordial monster that had existed before time itself.

Astarion knew all this.

He had met them all – intimate with its simplest form, a cold polarizing solitude; a loyal companion for two centuries, teaching him to lick his wounds with malice. Others had taken everything from him, or they were too weak to lift a meaningful finger. It took several lifetimes to finally mend his precious pride back together. Why should he practice mercy when no one had shown him any?

And by some stroke of luck, he was free – at least for now. Opportunity had fallen before his feet; he could chase after power, clutch revenge in his pale fingers, walk amongst the sun. Red eyes clung to the light glimmering across the water and wavering leaves. A desperate urge pulsed up his spine, insisting he memorize each saturated detail before it faded away like the most ethereal dream. The exhilaration rose wildly before plummeting to the pits of his stomach.

Huh, that was odd. It had never dawned on him that grief could also bloom in the slow, golden sunlight.

Languid beams washed against his flesh and through the faint hem of his shirt. Every fiber of his skin ached, dull and shallow, at the sacred warmth that had been a stranger for so long. He felt this haunted and holy gift – the vigor of life from each ray of light running over his fair face. Reunited once again, like long-lost lovers.

It was the sound of boots thudding against dirt that pulled him back into the world, on the ravaged beachfront.

With straight posture, a hollow smile painted itself across his lips. ==

“You have your mother’s eyes, you know.”

No, he didn’t know.

Quiet was this small voice that, for some odd reason, had grasped onto his conscience the night he died. It had sung loud in the beginning, but now it was just a whisper. Everything else had reduced to dust, long-buried beneath the cold earth.

But if he could conjure the ghost of his mother, he couldn’t be bothered to. Astarion envisioned a sharp tsk , a scowl dripping with disgust if she could see the creature he was today: a thrall to his own hedonistic desires, wielding manipulation and seduction as an instrument. A vampire , taking solace amongst the shadows and draining the life around him.

Maybe he was the same, just calloused and rearranged by the fate spun for him.

However, there was no need to exhume the past. It proved futile anyway; he couldn’t even recall the previous hue of his eyes, much less run his hands over his reflection. The only thing worthy of concern was survival. Memories had been shrouded by the same pivotal virtue, the one that carved the habit to become shapeless – to cater to every impulse and whim of those who could serve useful. Those who could protect him, at least for the time being.

And that was exactly what he tried with you, as his breath was inches from your slender neck and your eyes widened in hazy alarm, catching him by surprise.

“Shit.”

You scuttered to your feet in the frantic silence, dozens of excuses fluttering to Astarion’s tongue. The fatigue of bloodthirst hindered his wit, but he raised his palms in reservation.

He had already taken note of your misleading presence – you were small, but heavens , would you put up a fight. Other companions had already turned towards you for guidance the past few days, and you were carved with a beauty that could intimidate. Though, there were cracks underneath that facade – ones with darkness in between.

Peering into these cracks was his only outlet to earn your trust; after all, it was paramount for survival.

“I – I wasn’t going to hurt you,” exasperated breaths pushed from his throat. “I just needed, well.. blood.”

Basked in the dim firelight, your wary gaze studied him for what he really was: a vampire, a slave to sanguine hunger. He caught the stutter in your furrowed brows before they eased. Smug delight settled in his nerves when you, although with apprehension, allowed him to taste you.

Astarion eagerly obliged, immediately losing himself in the euphoria– the sweet vigor of your blood, how silky and rich. A low hum vibrated in his throat, and he barely registered when your palms pushed his broad weight off of you. Lush satisfaction that quenched his blood-thirst still coursed through him like a stimulant, but he still caught the tail-end of your groan.

“I don’t care that you’re a vampire. Just –,” you paused briefly to reel from your daze. “We’re all a team now, so I have to have some trust in you. Just ask next time.”

He felt happy, more alive – not only from the fresh blood still lingering on his tongue, but that you trusted him. Maybe not entirely, but the anchor had already been dropped; one step closer to wrapping you around his finger, even if you weren’t entirely flexible. He could feel it in your gaze, in the little quivers that rolled through you while his fangs sunk into your soft skin.

Once you had returned to sleep and his frenzied nerves quelled, he mulled over your parting words. You weren’t phased’ that he was a vampire, instead placing emphasis on trust. You were full of surprises – especially when the entire world met him with repulse.

Something that had been fossilized inside him tremored, as if it began to thaw. ==

There was a thin chill in the evening air, in the way nature prepares for a new season. And he hated you.

Well, he didn’t hate you – frankly, he couldn’t get enough of you; that was the issue.

You plagued his thoughts like a helpless addiction, better yet like a mirror; one he had repeatedly peered into, struggling to find the right angle and when he did – he was left staring at you.

Those careful eyes – a mocking reminder of everything he could have been. So different, so resilient, so disgustingly kind.

Since the day he laid eyes on you, he was the first to glimpse at your secret hidden in plain sight. Your habit of hiding yourself from everyone you came across, retreating behind stone-bared walls and tailoring a facade just enough to avoid drawing attention. Reserved lips were a mere confirmation you sealed away a vault of grief that you didn’t want – or need – clumsy, temporary hands to pry open.

That discreet resolve particularly made you the sour dagger twisting between his ribs. Grief had been your companion as well, but its mark never trickled from anywhere else – not a warbled voice or frustrated bout. It was only noticeable through a fleeting glint in your eyes. Meanwhile, he had made this medley of rage and anguish his armor. It had fused to skin, and he no longer knew how to scrape it off. Astarion dedicated decades to cursing the Gods. You ignored them.

He knew he should despise you and eagerly await the day he could shatter this mirror you were – but all bitterness dissolved in your presence. You had become his wonderfully terrible affliction; withdrawals could damn near kill him if they were to happen.

Ribbons unraveled from his chest with each conversation, whether it pertained to the graveness of the journey or a simple ‘good morning’ from your lips. Strange yet blissful, he could feel himself surrendering every bitter pang for the peculiar sensation of… comfort .

Once laced with such harshness, his mind eased with familiarity. An interesting chord of harmony, he thought, the two of you. From the start of the journey until now, you shared an enriching balance. He would encourage you to be more outspoken, while you stirred him to be authentic and soft – even if you weren’t aware.

You were stable like bedrock; never once expecting to be selfless or pious, instead only demanded transparency – at least to the extent he was willing to concede. Aside from the occasional brow-raise or retort, judgment never twisted your face. Respect was a new sensation to him, as you gave him yours.

This dynamic, this balance ; it was irresistibly and invariably warm.

The rendezvous sort of just fell into habit.

Every night he would savor the ambrosia from your neck, and one evening tension gave way to carnal desire. Whether it was a simple cathartic release or not, he didn’t care; tender moments bathed in amber firelight or the hush of the night had always left him craving more.

“You’re such a tease .”

You’d whisper those words every so often those sacred nights, and a rakish grin would slide across his face without fail. Lust gripped him, but never once weaved with routine; the way your legs parted to invite him in left Astarion with an insatiable urge to indulge in everything you were willing to give him. He could spend the entire evening with his head between your thighs, cold hands steadying your quivering legs as his tongue lured you to new heights of pleasure – giving you exactly what you needed.

When he was with you – skin pressed together, desperate hums like honey – he began to relish in taking things slow.

He preferred the nights where your bare body writhed beneath him and melted against his, while he eagerly coaxed wispy whines from your lips. No matter how wet and ready you were, his girth always met resistance as he parted your warm, sensitive walls. Your skin buzzed at the sensation of his cock splitting you open, like every time was the first you’ve been touched.

Desire laced every word he whispered into the curve of your neck, each encouraging and soft. His pace was slow, pushing into the depth of your core, buried deep enough to kiss your cervix with each thrust. Low, guttural grunts left his throat as your body’s natural instinct clenched around his throbbing cock.

Despite his centuries of experience, he found himself struggling to restrain from succumbing to the all-consuming euphoria of it all: your lashes wet from your tears, precious gasps warm against his skin, the desirous ache to fuck you the way that pretty face beckoned to be fucked.

The unbridled intimacy – which felt so real and tender was enough to send him over the edge. His veins hummed with yearning as he drank in the vision beneath him; your skin flushed, shaky whines that sung his name as he pushed you to pleasure. And when you wrapped your legs to press him deeper – he surrendered to the white-hot bliss.

Although Astarion would never tell a soul, his most treasured moments were spent after desperate breaths calmed and the entire world stilled.

It was never long before you lulled into sleep, and your weight slacked against his broad chest. He lingered over each detail with softer eyes; the gentle curl of your lashes, a freckle he had missed the last time. Peace graced such beautiful features, ones that were usually still with resolve. There had never been another face quite like yours in the two centuries he had lurked amongst the earth.

Your chest rose and fell slowly before you would eventually fidget, still deep in slumber, to slink an arm over his waist. His gentle hand grasped the one that rested against his chest, careful not to stir you, as he ran his fingers over your silk skin. Such delicate hands, he mused, that had to grapple their way through life.

He pressed a silent kiss against the back of your palm before laying it back on his chest.

In the silence, something washed over him – that rousing feeling that he never knew quite what to make of.

His eyes swept once more to watch the shuffle of your face, buried now against his side. Your hazy sighs warmed his bare skin. Astarion could almost laugh, imagining your face reddening if he ever shared how affectionate you were in your sleep.

Though he would never tell you – it was his little secret, one he hid away just for himself.

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amerricanartwork · 2 months

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RW Headcanon: "Pebbsie Privilege"

Here’s a headcanon I’ve had in the works for a while, and now I finally want to share it! It's shorter than some of my others, but I hope you'll still find it amusing!

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So firstly (and I plan to expand on this more later) I headcanon Five Pebbles is someone who cares a lot about his appearance, though not in a prissy or snooty sense and more in a “likes being the smartest and most sophisticated one in the room” sense. That means, more so than the average person, he generally doesn’t like being teased, ignored, belittled, condescended to, or otherwise disrespected, and very understandably so if you ask me! But it also means there exists a very special ability when it comes to interacting with Five Pebbles that almost no characters have.

It’s no more than the ability of someone to refer to Five Pebbles as “Pebbsie” while he’s in earshot without getting death-glares from him. Looks to the Moon, who first started using it, affectionately calls this ability “Pebbsie privilege”, and she ends up being one of the only characters who has it (besides Innocence, who in my portrayals eventually gets it too). Though even so, Pebbles originally got rather flustered when she called him that alone, much less in front of others, considering it's definitely a very cutesy nickname. In fact, poor Pebbles really didn’t like being called “Pebbsie” because one of his least favorite ways of being treated is like a child (which includes being thought of as "cute" in any way). This unfortunately happens to him a lot though since he’s part of the newest iterator generation and tends to have lots of uncommon ideas rarely taken seriously by the older models, and this treatment only amplified as he grew more stubborn and arrogant.

To elaborate on the origin, Moon developed the nickname pretty much on an impulse — quite a rare thing for her to act on actually — of wanting to hearken more to her role as “Big Sis Moon” and show love to her little brother. Soon after she started using it though Pebbles would pull her into private chats and urge her to drop it to save his dignity. Not wanting to hurt her brother in any way, it didn’t take long before she apologized and stopped using it, and basically got her "Pebbsie privilege" revoked. In the current time she secretly still likes calling him that in her mind, but knowing how much he dislikes it she always feels pretty guilty afterwards, despite them being no more than thoughts at that point. While not a major issue in-and-of itself, this situation was actually a small step in worsening a long-time fear Moon has, though that’s a headcanon for another day…

On a (marginally) more positive note however, after Moon’s collapse and the worsening of Five Pebbles’s rot, along with him generally reminiscing about the things he used to have (as part of yet more character headcanons I’ll elaborate on some other time), he actually began to grow fond of the nickname more and more. Yet he also couldn’t also shake the growing heartache the memories brang, as he came to see it as a reminder of his sister’s never-ending love for him and the better times he now regretted taking for granted and trying so hard to escape. While I headcanon he handles it differently in Downpour’s canon, in the worm-off-the-string AU story I’ve got so far, Moon slowly regaining her “Pebbsie privilege” and Pebbles appreciating it and no longer taking it so seriously (though he still forbids its usage in public) could serve as a small, yet sweet indicator of character growth for both of them.

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Aaaand another RW headcanon done! I wanna mention, though, now that I’ve got more of an idea for the aforementioned AU I really want to start posting more of my headcanons for the Local Group, since the character interactions, histories, and ultimate character growth is perhaps one of the most important elements of that story so far. I’ve spent at least a couple weeks creating almost 40 pages worth of character notes, and while this particular one started out as just a little side-headcanon, I ended up tying it into all of that. Hopefully I can start sharing the main parts of these headcanons soon!

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adventuringblind · 3 months

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Monsters in my Mind

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Sometimes those thoughts won't leave, the ones you don't want... The ones that can be dangerous. All it takes is one person to help make them go away.

Warnings: Intrusive thoughts, referenced/implied self-harm, violent thoughts, impulsive behaviors, panic attacks, non-sexual dominance as a form of coping, dom/sub undertones

Notes: My thoughts are self stabby as of late. Pardon me as I write this for myself to keep my head and hands busy.

Side Note: Consider feeding my praise kink maybe...?

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

The head is a strange place. One's conscious is usually meant to help them make the right decisions and not engage in acts that could hurt them or others. Her head, however, is the opposite of that.

It's a dark twisted place where thoughts that aren't her own find refuge. They want to bathe her in the ecstasy of things that shouldn't feel good. daydreams about things that could repulse any typical human being.

Sometimes they are so strong and her bodies reactions are so out of control, that she has to find relief somewhere. The knife against her skin takes the edge off. Is it normal to moan at the sting and feel satisfied looking at her red stained thighs? She does, until the realization settles in and the guilt won't let her think.

The thoughts laugh at her for giving in so easily. They scrutinize the fact she gets off on the pain.

She walks around in fear of herself. The anxiety and exhaustion from constantly fighting herself are visible on her body. She's tired, and everyone knows it. It's why they don't come near her. Always to caught up in her own head to realize people are trying converse.

It's not like her job requires to much discussion with people. Puzzles keep her brain busy and Ferrari keeps her busy with all the strategy mishaps they throw at her. They throw her a problem, she solves it, plans for next time, and they fuck it up again by not using the solution.

Sometimes she thinks about throwing herself in front of an F1 car going full speed. That voice in her head screams at her anytime she's close to the live track.

Then there is Max. His voice sends the thoughts running and it makes her want to cling to him. She wants him to never stop talking about anything and everything.

Today had been particularly difficult with the of the driver switch coming at the end of the season. Carlos and Charles are the first drivers she's worked with and they all got along great. She doesn't want it to change. That means more unknowns.

The wind graces her cheeks and kisses her finger tips as she sits on the balcony of their apartment. Everything is to much right now and her thoughts won't quiet.

She was in Maranello when the news came out. Her head became so loud with the fear of change and worry for her friend. Enough to be sent home for the day - alone, and nothing to help her head aside from the burning desire to just end it all.

Max had made arraignments for her to spend some time with him in the Milton-Keynes. She was still alone for periods of time. Enough to have to settle herself somehow.

The color red makes something in her relax. Specifically when it's flowing out of her own body.

Now Max is with her and she's stuck in her own head. The never ending maze of twisted thoughts keeps her from moving. The fear of giving in has been looming over her head for longer then normal. It feels like she's losing something, always has been with this team, but change feels far worse then staying with them.

Max hasn't pushed her to do much aside from at least stay in his presence. Occasionally attempting to get her out of her own head with movies and games. He's even spent hours at a time just talking to her about anything and everything.

He opens the door to the balcony, but she doesn't look at him. Not until he holds his hand out for her to take. An action she does without hesitation. No thoughts are needed for this, just following Max's lead.

He leads her over to the couch and arranges them so she can sit tucked into his lap. A grounding hand runs up and down the lenght of her spine. "I've been doing some research about how we might be able to get your head to quiet down."

"I'll do anything, jus' want it to stop." Her voice sounds dry and cracked from how hard she's screamed and cried through the last few days.

"Do you trust me?"

"More then I trust anyone."

She finds herself slipping off the couch and onto her knees, in-between Max's legs with her head resting against his thigh. His touch doesn't leave her skin. "You're doing so good for me. Listen to my voice and focus on taking big breathes for me. Can you do that for me?"

She hums in response. The continual stroke of Max's fingers against her face and sound of his voice already helping immensely.

"That's it, just breathe for me. I've got you; you don't have to fight the thoughts alone. I'm right here with you, keeping them away, never leaving your side." Max grabs one of her hands with his free one. her fingers lay between his. Her favorite puzzle with how easy the pieces fit together.

"You're here with me; I've got you. Those scary thoughts aren't your own. The are unwanted and uninvited, but most importantly, they don't define you. You are brave, loved, beautiful without gaping wounds. You're not crazy or psychotic. You are yourself, with your highs and your lows."

Her body has never felt like this. Her entire being wants to give itself over to Max. His breathes guiding her own, his gentle yet firm hold on her keeping her where he wants.

She lets herself fall under his spell. If Max can take the control away from her, make her complaint and relaxed like this, then he can have her thoughts too.

"That's it, such a good girl, let me think for you. I won't leave you to fight or flounder on your own."

She follows Max's directions, lets him guide her in this place of trust and letting go of things. He's turning her brain off and letting her float without any kind of worries except what Max is telling her to do.

Until all she can think of is him. The calm the comes with his presence and the way his voice falls over her like a soft blanket. Max is all she knows, occupying every crevice of her mind and leaving no room for anything else to creep in.

"How're you feeling, geliefd?" There is a lightness to his tone that makes her swoon.

She hums against his leg. "Warm, fuzzy, head empty."

"Then you stay here as long as you need, okay? I'll keep you safe."

And she does.

She falls into the warm embrace of Max's words. She lets him protect her and keep the dark ugly thoughts away.

With Max, her head is quiet. The voices can't come though. When they do, he's there to fight them back.

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rafebaby · 5 months

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🎀 Blurb #2 Rafe needs to get kook!reader alone after she catches him doing coke for the first time 🎀 (Continuation of blurb #1, if you will)

Warning: mentions of drug abuse

As Rafe saw you appear in front of him a few hours ago, he had felt his heart sink. Eyes filled with countless question marks and a massive heap of disappointment met his gaze. But true to form, he had distanced himself too much from reality to respond with consideration. And so, he had let you leave with Sarah, needed you to leave with Sarah, as the pain and embarrassment made him feel nauseous. He immediately decided to fled his feelings by doing what he did best: letting himself sink into the couch and hitting the bong that was being passed around.

Year after year, Rafe had successfully put up the 'kook prince act' in front of you and further kept his distance, because he knew that a girl like you would never go with a guy like him. He accepted the way it was, was happy to know you only knew the Rafe he wanted you to know, so that your idea of him, the version of that was living in your mind, was at least someone you respected.

He breaks from his thoughts, still sunk into the couch, to check the clock. The fuzzy numbers come into focus, showing it's twenty past twelve. He figures about two hours have passed, but a twinge of unease hits him as he suddenly realizes you've been navigating his house, mingling at his party, surrounded by all these stupid people, and even worse, by all these stupid boys. He imagines them swarming around you. The mere thought propels him into action. Though without a clear plan, an instinct pushes him to seek you out. Without informing his friends, he starts wandering through the gathering, hoping you haven't left. To his surprise, he halts abruptly as he spots you sooner than expected. You're seated with Sarah and her friends on the porch sofas, drink in hand, but your gaze fixed on the floor while everyone else engages in lively conversation.

Rafe stood there watching for a bit, summoning courage, unsure of what to do next, taking in all of your features and how the shade of pink of your dress enhances all of them. From your plush lips, to your rosy cheeks and everything beyond. He struggles not to roam your body. Your thighs and waist. Your soft, exposed shoulders, your elegant neck... Another knot forms in his stomach when he sees the guy sitting next to you lean in, whispering something into your ear with a dumb smirk on his face. Your laughter noticeably uncomfortable.

Rafe movements are swift, propelled towards you before his thoughts catch up. Determined but slightly unsteady, he strides up to the porch. "Hey (y/n)!" Your face and the others' shoot up simultaneously, a collective startle. The boy who had tried to be so smooth just half a minute ago now shows a pale complexion at the unexpected sight of the Cameron's son. "Your dad's on the phone asking for you." Rafe lies easily. You rise abruptly, confusion and concern etched on your face. "What?" you question, and Rafe, managing to keep the deception going, adds, "Yeah, uh, it's urgent." You start walking over to him, past him, inside the house. "In the office." He adds impulsively, voice a little raised to cut through the music and general party noise. Without sparing him another glance, you make your way through the crowd and the rooms, through the hallway and eventually into the office. Rafe following closely behind you, struggling to keep up with your fast pace. He hates to worry you like this, but tries to convince himself it's for the better. After all, he had to save you from that no-good boy's intent.

Inside the office, your nervous movements intensify as you search for the phone, and Rafe quietly closes the door behind him. "Where is it?" you stammer out with an unusual frustration. "Where's what?" he feigns ignorance, opting to play dumb in the absence of a clear direction. "The phone, Rafe!" you express annoyance, and he stutters, "Oh, yeah, right, uh..." His gaze involuntarily drops to the floor beneath him, caught in the web of his own deceit. "there's no phone,", "there's no phone?","yeah, no," he pauses, and you just stand there looking at him in utter confusion.

"I didn't mean to lie, but..." he begins, interrupted with a firm "but you did..." "Yeah, just listen, okay," a glimmer of his fiery self surfaces. "I just felt like you needed to get out of there. Th-that guy is no good, you know, he's a creep." Your brows furrow deeper, and you counter, "He was harmless, Rafe, he just kept on making dumb jokes.", "You don't know him," he mumbles, his face clenching in growing anger. "Well, I don't really seem to know you either," you remark, your voice now carrying a sad realness. Your comment pierces Rafe right in the heart.

"You do," Rafe says desperately, "you do, (y/n), you've known me for years." You scoff and lift your eyes in disbelief. "I thought so too, but honestly, Rafe—" He cuts you off, unable to bear it any longer, striding closer. Your instinct is to take a step back, but you resist, refusing to let him intimidate you. "You do know me," he declares, locking eyes with intensity. "Just not the foolish version of me."

You can't deny its effect on you, your heart racing due to his proximity. You loathe how your feelings for him demand attention—feelings you wanted to bury after witnessing his actions earlier tonight. It shattered your heart; he looked so tense, aggressive, even feral, in that moment. Nothing like the composed, gentle Rafe you found yourself daydreaming about after family events. Yet, as he stands before you now, he appears strangely beautiful, with different versions of him seemingly in conflict. You just wait for him to say something.

"I just," he clears his throat, breaking eye contact nervously, "wanted to be good for you," Not realizing the way it makes your heart flutter. A spark of confindence pushes you to ask: "why's that?" You briefly look down, only to meet his gaze again. "Because you like me that way," he confesses, "and I wanted you to like me.", "And why's that?" you repeat yourself, wanting to dig deeper, seeking the truth from his lips.

Gazing at you tenderly, softening as only he can, he continues, "How could I not want you to like me?" His hand reaches out for yours, attempting to draw you closer, fueled by the substances coursing through his veins, providing him with the confidence to make such a move. Somehow, in the way you look at him, he senses a chance. He likes your patience, waiting for his answers. Everytime he was near you, he felt the constant knot in his chest, loosen.You are his best sedative, one he could live off if you'd allow it. "You are so sweet, so perfect," he whispers tenderly, gently fidgeting with your fingers, "too good for me." You squeeze his hands, looking down momentarily.Before overthinking, you lift your face to his, planting a soft yet lingering kiss on his cheek. Maintaining your closeness, you say, "I like you, Rafe." His heart leaps, locking eyes with yours, faces inches apart. On impulse, he moves in to kiss you, but you step back, declining his affection, causing a sinking feeling in his chest.

"Let's keep this for a sober moment...", he nods defeated but understandingly. "come by tomorrow?", he asks, desperation seeping through. Unexpectedly, you release a chuckle. It's like music to his ears, albeit a bit confusing. "Persistent, aren't you?", you comment with a playful glimmer in your eyes. You're taunting him, he realizes, causing a grin to appear on his face while he shakes his head. "I can be!" He warns you finally, trying to be serious. But you know better. With one last chuckle, you leave the office, leaving him behind once more,but this time with a whole other feeling oozing through his body.

___

Writer's note: And that guys, is where I put and end to it. For now at least. Is this even still a blurb at this point? Telling myself this is a blurb makes it just easier to start writing. Dont mind me casually manipulating myself for the sake of fanfiction. Anyway... I really hope you like it! And don't hesitate to interact with my content or to send me your thoughts or requests. I'm open! Lots of love, Rafebaby xxx

#drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe blurb #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine

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sadlynotthevoid · 3 months

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Okey, but, I feel like og!Cale is the type of person that, if someone tried to make fun of him for a crush, he would be like "ah, yeah, that's true" and openly admit it.

So, og AlbeCale AU where whenever someone tries to mock Cale about liking Alberu or asks him about it, he downright says the truth. Regardless of who is hearing him.

As in, maybe once someone asks if Rok Soo and Cale are dating because they seem close (in part because they're kind of close, and in part because Cale keeps knowing what he is thinking, but they don't know that's just a Cale thing). And Rok Soo is like:

Rok Soo: Nah. This guy's type are baker princes.

Cale: You got it wrong. I don't like any princes who bake, I like Alberu only.

And Alberu, who was drinking tea on the background, suddenly chokes on his cup. Which they notice, of course.

"Oh. Hey, Al. Are you okay?"

—Totally unfazed for having Alberu heard the whole conversation.

He's so shameless about it and it's completely unintentional.

He has no idea of how people treat their crushes normally nor is interested on doing the same. He knows that some people tend to get shy, but a decade purposefully acting as trash killed most of his shame— Well, at least when it is about others' opinions of him—. If he wants to do something, being laughed at is not what's going to stop him.

And what he wants is to say how adorable he thinks Alberu is, so that's what he does.

Rejection? He isn't proposing anything. He doesn't plan on dating or wooing Alberu either. It's not that he wouldn't like it, it's just that it hasn't occurred to him that that's even an option. For him, who had spent years hearing everyone say the worst of him, the idea of someone wanting him by their side is so far away that it has yet to form.

So he keeps making casual comments about how cute Alberu is when he's confused, or "his hair looks so soft, I bet it feels that way too", or "he looks so handsome when he's tricking people. I like it more when he doesn't have to, tho", while everyone else feels embarrased for it. Except Rosalyn, she thinks it's hilarious.

Of course, he's pretty much respectful about it, never crossing the line to sexual harassment. And he would stop if Alberu told him too, but he doesn't. He kinda didn't realize that was an option at the beginning and, at this point, he got used and actually enjoys it a bit (a lot).

Cale: oh, sweets! They're my fifth favorite thing in this cruel world.

Rosalyn, fully knowing what she's doing: what are the other four?

Cale, carefully choicing which cake eat first: Well— *rising a finger per item* my family, animals, Alberu and wine. In that order.

Alberu: *frowns* I'm only third?

Cale, picking a chocolate tart: Mm? I loved animals since before meeting you and, at this point, is a part of myself. The other day I saw a dog and spent two hours squatting at her side without realize. It was not a conscious decision, it was... a soul impulse, let's say.

Alberu, looking at his thighs because damn, that's a lot of time to stay in that position: Oh. Wait, you've also loved wine since before meeting me.

Cale: Yes, but drinking wine is a choice. I can live happily without it. You would be... more difficult to leave.

Alberu: *processing* (that means— can't be happy without me aksjdjsj) "blushes hard*

Rosalyn, looking at Alberu's silly fuming face: (don't laugh don't laugh) Pff—

Cale: cherry pie? *Holds a mini pie in front of Alberu*

The turn tables when Alberu realizes that Cale doesn't have resistaince against genuine compliments. He never takes fake glibbery words seriously, but if someone says the slightliest good thing about him and they mean it, he'll become a mess. He just— doesn't know how to react when someone believes anything good about him.

So, Alberu starts complimenting him seriously— as reprisal, of course ("that's just flirting, nephew. You two are flirting, stop calling it vengeance"). Small but real things, details most people doesn't notice, deeper things that he deserves to hear (because, honestly, someone should tell him how sweet he is. How considerate he is. How much he should be appreciated because he's precious. And it seems Alberu is that someone). It works everytime.

Alberu calls his smile cute once and Cale stops talking. Face red and eyes avoiding everything, he can't pronounce a single word.

He calls him kind after Cale subtly helped a strange for no reason (he's obviously doing it in a way others wouldn't notice unless they knew what to look for. Alberu wonders if this is other "Cale thing"). Cale trips and almost gets discovered. When Alberu looks at his face, he's pouting.

Curiously, he doesn't have the same reaction when he gets called smart. He just smiles a bit and sometimes puffs his chest. Huh. Still adorable, tho.

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dartlekey · 1 year

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Up and down goes the small pink pill, bouncing across Eddie’s hand. He twists it between his fingers, bounces it across his knuckles - it glances off one of his many rings occasionally, but never drops, is always caught by a steady palm, and flicked back into rotation. Steve watches idly - the movement is mesmerizing, even more so because he’s a little high, relaxing on Eddie’s narrow bed as Eddie scribbles into a notebook.

Whether the scribbles are song lyrics or campaign ideas Steve doesn’t know; he’s asked before, but Eddie wouldn’t tell. He’s been weirdly uptight all day, actually, more quiet than usual, but asked Steve to stay when he offered to fuck off if Eddie needed some space. (It’d make sense if Eddie needed space, really; they’ve been hanging out so much recently, but there’s something about each other’s company that makes both of them feel safe, and neither of them usually gets much of that, anymore.)

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Steve says, stubbing out the joint in Eddie’s bedside ashtray. “What kinda pill is that?”

Eddie doesn’t glance up, but Steve feels the weight of his attention shift as his fingers pinch the tablet to stillness, at least for the moment. “Estrogen,” he says, sounding contemplative. “The other kind of E.”

Steve frowns, because he’s a little faded, sure, but not high enough for Eddie to be this confusing. “Wait, isn’t that like, hormones? Thought you only sold drugs.”

“Yeah, this is just for me,” Eddie says, then shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

Steve sits up, runs a hand through his hair - the kids like to joke about him having a “Mom-Sense” like Peter Parker has a “Spidey-Sense” (whoever the fuck that is), and they’re not wrong; he can always tell when someone is struggling with themselves. “Yeah?”

Eddie does look up at him, then. Doesn’t exactly look nervous, more… tired, if anything.

“I think I’m a girl.”

Steve blinks, considers this. Doesn’t consider doubting Eddie, because that’d be fucking stupid - Eddie likes to act impulsive, but someone who can plan eleven-hour campaigns and still have four super-geniuses howling with shock and betrayal at the end of it? Someone like that doesn’t speak without thought. “How come?”

Eddie huffs out a long breath, spins around in the wobbly desk chair. “Wheeler Junior was being a sore loser, said I’m just like his sister. I know he was trying to piss me off, but I can’t stop thinking about it. The thought makes me fucking giddy.”

Steve nods a few times, plucks at a loose thread on Eddie’s comforter. “Huh. Yeah, kind of makes sense, actually.”

Eddie squints at him. “It does?”

Steve shrugs, a little embarrassed, but the weed has loosened his tongue enough to admit, “You’re pretty.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his - her (?) mouth. ”Boys can be pretty.”

“Yeah, but you’re like, girl-pretty. Don’t laugh, it’s a thing! It’s like - like, I can see a guy and go yeah, he’s good looking, and that’s it and I go about my day, but with girls there’s like this sense of awe? It’s like, wow, she’s pretty, can I get her to smile? I kinda wanna know what her hair smells like.”

Eddie stares at him incredulously, and Steve gives an annoyed huff, only just manages to restrain himself from overexplaining how last week he actually thought he was bi for a hot second, before he realized that apart from Eddie, guys still seem about as sexually alluring as housetrained rats.

Well, not apart from Eddie, now, because it turns out Eddie is a girl. Problem solved.

“So what do I call you now?”

“Hmm?”

“Like…” Steve waves his hand vaguely. “Do you want a new name? Or something?”

Eddie starts bouncing the pill across her fingers again. “No, Eddie is fine. It’s… neutral, I like that. But use girl words, I guess?”

Steve frowns. Maybe he is too high for this. “Like… babe? Sweetheart?”

Eddie barely manages to tamp down on a laugh. “Like she and her, dude. Like Eddie’s driving the other girls to Nancy’s because Robin doesn’t have a car and Max and El are underage. Five minutes as a girl and you already want to climb me like a tree, is that it?”

Steve blushes, lobs Eddie’s dog-eared copy of the Silmarillion at her, which she dodges expertly, cackling in that wild way that she has. Still Eddie. Still pretty. “Shut up, it’s not like that,” Steve grumbles, and Eddie grins, tugging her hair in front of her mouth. “Keep telling yourself that, big boy.”

#stranger things #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #steddie #trans!eddie #trans eddie munson #transfem!eddie #ficlet #dropped my keys

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sucker4colby · 1 year

Text

Love Hate

Warning - slight smut , cuss words

Summary ~ you an Colby have a love hate relationship and your friends strategize to get you guys to make a move…

Word Count- 1660

Pairing: Colby x frenemie !Female reader

“Ok Jake truth or dare.” Kat asked their friend wiggling her eyebrows in a playful manner at him, He let out a long hum pretending to think before choosing dare. “ I dare you to switch clothes with Tara for the rest of the video.” She dare him making the couple go to jakes room to change. “Jakes ass is going to look fat in those sweatpants.” Colby joked while everyone waited, you took that as perfect opportunity to make a snide remark but Sam beat you to it putting their plan to action. “ At least he has an ass Colby.” Your friends laughed at Sams joke causing Colby to furrow his eyebrows not expecting the comment from his best friend but from the girl next to him. You sat up straight before throwing a response at Sam “ Colby has a little something something back there what about you though ? I’ve never seen the slightest jiggle.” Causing your friends to laugh louder and making a red hue appear on Colby’s cheeks and Sam to put his hands up in surrender.

Tara and Jake came back wearing each other clothes receiving laughs in return. It was Jakes turn to ask so he turned to you calling your name. “ truth or dare .” You didn’t hesitate to say dare not really wanting to expose any secrets. “ I dare you to kiss one of the guys here.” You raised your eyebrows asking if you were 12 receiving nothing but a shoulder shrug. You looked around at the boys realizing you would have to chose between Reggie or Colby since everyone else had a girlfriend.

You had made up your mind deciding Colby but Reggie spoke up having noticed the same thing as you . “ no offense but we all know there’s two options and you’re not exactly someone I want to kiss” You were at a loss for words since he made it sound like it was repulsive to kiss you. You weren’t the only one who felt some kind of way at his comment, Colby was mad that he would speak to you in that manner, and he was mad because anyone would be lucky to be kissed by you, someone so kind and beautiful.

He acted on impulse wanting to show him what he was missing, Colby turned to face you quickly, catching you off guard by grabbing your cheeks and pulling you in to place his pink lips on yours. You tensed up before following his lead and relaxing into the kiss as he moved his hands down to hold the back of your head. He would never admit the way his stomach did flips when he finally got to taste the strawberry flavored lip gloss he always saw you always rub along your plump lips, or the way your scent wrapped around him was making him lightheaded. He pulled back leaving you just as breathless before turning to face Reggie with your lip gloss stained on his lips. “Well you missed out” Colby smirked at him causing the rest of your friends to let out hollers and whooping sounds .

The rest of the night was a blur for you the only thing you could focus on was the warmth you could feel from Colby’s body or the way his hand would occasionally brush against you making your head spin. You never hated Colby matter fact you always had a small crush but masked it with your bantering but after this kiss you were to nervous to make your usual comments. He obviously took notice asking you to talk to him to which you quietly agreed following him to his room.

You prepared yourself for the conversation you were about to have, knowing there was no way he wouldn’t of caught onto your feelings by now. You were expecting the worst , mentally practicing how you’d play it off once you got in the room.

You walked in after him as he held the door for you closing it once you were inside. For the first time since he’s known you you had never been so quiet around him making him feel a bit smug that he was the reason you were left speechless “ had I of known all I had to do was kiss you to make you be quiet I would’ve done it a long time ago.” He broke the silence smirking at you knowing which buttons to push. You snapped your eyes up at him your big eyes glaring at him making him smile even more loving the reactions he got out of you.“ don’t flatter yourself, you’re not even the reason.” You remarked causing him to laugh. “ Just admit it , you like me.” He teased walking towards you. You cocked an eyebrow his way suddenly feeling confidence flow through you. “ I think you’re the one that likes me, you’re the one that kissed ME. Matter fact I think I left you a little breathless at the end.” You giggled meeting him in the middle of the room chest to chest refusing to back down. He looked down at you rolling his eyes not liking how you flipped it on him making him mutter a shut up.

You leaned up putting one hand on his chest and the other one wrapping around the back of his neck pulling him towards you “ make me .” You whispered in his ear causing his breathing to stutter. “That’s what I thought.” You pushed him away but he quickly grabbed your hands pulling you in and placing his lips on yours making you gasp. “Jump” he demanded not breaking apart from your interlocked lips but bending down to pick you up by your thighs making you wrap them around his hips. You tangled your fingers in his smooth brown hair at the back of his pulling him in closer making the kiss more aggressive.

He walked forward until he could lay you onto of his black comforter climbing over so his face way over yours holding his weight on one arm. You eyed the veins that were visible on his forearm imagining how they would look with his hand wrapped around your throat causing you to close your eyes trying to hide the lust. That was a failed attempt because you let out a quiet moan as his lips made contact with the side of your throat slowly kissing up until he met your lips again.

You let your hands wonder under his t shirt feeling his smooth and toned body making him feel like your touch evoked something in him draining any restraint he had away. The shirt he has felt like a barrier between your loving touch so he pulled back leaving you in a daze while he tugged the shirt off throwing it somewhere on his wooden floor. He watched you for a Moment his heart soared at the image of you laying under him breathing heavily through your swollen lips and hooded eyes looking up at him through thick eyelashes. You caught him off guard by flipping so you could straddle him running your hand down his chest as he gripped your hip watching the way your eyes devoured him. For the first time he felt seen, lots of girls jumped at the chance to be with him , they all loved the way Colby Brock looked but here you were straddling him making him feel vulnerable because you weren’t just seeing what everyone else saw but you saw him for who he truly was. You leaned down catching his button lip between your lips gently sucking on it causing a breathy moan to come from him fueling your confidence,your lips trail down over his neck down to his stomach looking at him.

He snapped out of his lust driven daze when he felt you reach for his waist band his hand reaching down to stop yours making you sit up in alarm thinking you did something wrong. “ what’s wrong ?” You asked him biting your lips in nervousness. “ are you sure you want to do this ? I really like you and I don’t want this to be just a hook up.” He told you tugging at your lip with his thumb gently running his finger over it so you would stop biting it. You let out a breath of relief nodding your head letting your cheek lay against his large palm nuzzling your face into it. “I really like you too Colby. But I also really want to do this.” You giggled making him let out a laugh. He pulled you in for a peck. “I know you’re not used to if but ima need you to be quiet then “ he whispered against your lips making you smack his chest and roll your eyes.

………………………

Hope you guys enjoyed !!

Let me know if you have any suggestions or if you see anything that needs correcting .

#colby brock #colby brock fanfic #colbybrock #fanfic #sam and colby #xplr #youtuber #xplr club #colby x reader #fandom #fan fiction #fan fic writing #smut #imagine #sam golbach #katrina stuart #jake webber #tara yummy

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hazelsmirrorball · 8 months

Text

Undercover Spider-Woman II. | Hazel Callahan

Spider-woman! Hazel Callahan x Villain! Reader Summary: Green Goblin has a love hate relationship with Spider-Woman Warnings: english isn’t my main language, not proof-read,fighting, daddy issues a/n: Thank you so much for reading the first part. I hope you enjoy it!

part one

Y/n always wanted to please her dad. Maybe it was her daddy issues or the fact that he was the only thing she had left, both her mother and brother tragically passing away a few years back. They only had each other. He was the only person she could call family so she made it her mission to always keep him happy or at least somewhat. Y/n was deadly afraid of her father, never wanting to be on his bad side. She knew about his other persona and it scared her.

Doctor Norman Virgil Osborn was a regular rich dude, founder and CEO of Oscorp which specialized in military research. Y/n’s father always wanted power so that’s what he got. He had created a powerful yet unsuitable performance enhancer, that was intended to enhance strengths to individuals but as he tried it on himself his superhuman levels increased giving him artificially enhanced physiology, superhuman durability, reflexes, regenerative healing factor, speed, stamina, agility and strength. But everything has its consequences making him develop a dissociative identity disorder, that’s when the chaotically sadistic psychopath Green Goblin was born.

But that didn’t stop him, he wanted more so he involved his daughter, Y/n. Y/n could care less about her dad’s evil plans so when he had gotten a hold of another syringe full of that performance enhancer, things started to change. He had done several researches on it, perfecting the formula that he had used on himself, not waiting for his daughter to go insane as he was, he cared at least a little.

So in sophomore year, Y/n had become Green Goblin 2.0. Y/n at first wasn’t completely convinced of the idea of having to be a psychopathic villain but her dad was finally proud of her, so she sucked it up. Having the performance enhancer made her powerful and her dad had managed to fix some of the flaws that he had suffered from. But she still had the Green Goblin inside of her. She found herself acting on anger and impulsiveness. So maybe she was caught up with being a true villain.

Y/n walked as fast as she could, feeling as if someone was following her. She turned around scanning her surroundings knowing that tonight she was in for a treat. Having so much energy left from the fight club and building tension from the almost kiss with Hazel made her go into a little frenzy, throwing a little mischief in the city here and there. Nothing too big or problematic but something that would make Spider Woman's life a little difficult. She jumped on the lid of the dumpster pushing the window of the abandoned building open, slipping her body in with ease inside.

Her dads evil lair, a stupid abandoned building in the middle of nowhere. She didn’t have a damn car so she found herself walking every dad to that dumpster in God knows where. It was supposed to be their hideout, not too extravagant and a way from them to keep things on the low but she found this place being her second home, not wanting to face her dad when he was on the brink of insanity she decided to take the evil lair as her own.

“Well at least I can somewhat relax a little” Y/n said to herself, quickly taking her shoes off. In an attempt to take them off while holding all her things she slammed her foot on the wall. “For fucks sakes” she yelled in pain as she rubbed the affected spot trying to ease the pain. Y/n found it quite difficult due to the fact that she was still holding all her things so she angrily threw her things on the floor and quickly held onto her left foot. While doing so her right foot got caught on her bag making her fall face first onto the floor. Y/n screamed onto the floor clearly frustrated, she dragged her body against the wooden floor, her laziness and anger taking over.

When she finally got a hold of the couch she reached forward gaining balance to stand up from the floor. Y/n looked towards the refrigerator as she hopped towards it, in an attempt to get some ice. When she finally reached it, she looked in the freezer only noticing a bag of peas and sighed, fight club was really taking a toll on her. She desperately wanted to take her mask off but before she did she heard someone clear her throat behind her, making her turn around.

And there she was in all her glory. Spider Woman hanging from the ceiling staring at her with her mask covering her face. She waved her hand slowly, like she was trying to taunt her in some way. She could bet she was smiling under that damn mask. Had she seen Y/n miserably drag herself on the floor? Or how she hit her leg? God, this was so embarrassing. Too many things were going through the woman's head; she didn’t even notice Spider-Woman had started talking.

“Do I have to repeat myself?” She asked again, standing up and walking towards her, her demeanor overpowering hers. Y/n closed the freezer groaning as she gripped on the counter in front of her. She didn’t have the energy to do this, not today.

“I know we don’t get along and what not but breaking into my place? That’s a new low, even for you. I thought Superheroes knew what boundaries were. ” Y/n said as she took a deep breath, gaining her composure and sending a fake smile towards Spider-Woman's way.

“Wanted to know what your evil lair looked like in real life. I thought it was going to be all dark and evil, maybe a knife collection on the walls, torture devices here and there. But this? I wasn’t expecting this. It’s quite homey, I didn't expect you to have such a warm and welcoming house.” Spider- Woman said as she sat down on the counter while crossing her arms, a joking tone evident in her voice.

“ First of all, who said we didn’t hide the knife collection in the guest bedroom. Plus dad studied interior design” she said sarcastically, while moving Spider–Woman’s legs off the counter.

“Really?!” She exclaimed excitedly jumping off the counter. Y/n rolled her eyes, while shaking her head annoyed out of her mind.

“No! Why the hell would he study that? Now let’s just cut to the chase. Listen, I really don’t give a damn of what you’re going to say or do. I’ve known you for years now and I know all your moves, I do something you think is “bad” then you confront me about it and put on your little show “taking me down” and blah blah blah. Today the last thing I want to do is deal with your shit. So, I believe you know the exit, it’s the same one you came in. Now do me a favor and leave.” She said getting face to face with her and pointing at her chest several times.

“Explain to me what did you expect to happen when you decided to fuck around the city? A kiss and praise?” She asked while putting her head to the side inspecting her up and down. Her eyes ending on top of her also covered eyes.

“Well, I can assure you, I expected more than a kiss” Y/n responded without breaking the “stare down” getting closer towards her.

“You do know I can take you down right now?” Spiderwoman said in a low voice making Y/n let out a chuckle.

“You don’t even stand a chance” Y/n replied with a smirk leaning her hand on the wall behind Spider-Woman trapping her against the wall.

“Wanna bet?” She asked while getting inches closer to her, their foreheads almost touching.

“ I would like to see you t…” Her voice got cut by Spider-Woman pinning her up against the wall, her breathing getting unsteady from the harsh impact on her back. She pinned Y/n’s arms against the wall, making her groan angrily.

“I like having you gasping for air, makes me proud that I’m doing my job right”

“ Are you sure about that?” She said while kicking her in the knees making her fall straight towards the ground. Y/n took the opportunity and straddled her pushing her head towards the floor in an attempt to keep her down.

“You know, I like the new changes to your suit, helps the evilness shine out”

“Makes me glow even more now that I’m winning” she said with a small smirk, making Spider-Woman groan. They both knew she could move at any time, Y/n knew it, Hazel knew it. Y/n believe Spider-Woman never “busted” her because she liked having her around. She wouldn’t deny she had fun messing with her too, it actually made her day. Moments like this made her keep waiting to do her dad’s dirty work, because her dirty work also included Spider-Woman.

“Got lost in my beauty?” Spider-Woman asked while attempting to raise her head from the floor. Y/n pushed her down one again letting out a scoff.

“Possibly. Now your time is up, get out. It’s time to go” Y/n said while getting up, Spider-Woman quickly followed her actions and got up, standing dangerously close.

“That soon? I thought we were having fun?” Spider-Woman replied in a whiney voice following Y/n.

“We were but I have things to do and places to be so how about you be a good girl and leave ” she said while putting her hand on her cheek and tapping it softly.

Hazel felt it. Like some source of power told her to leave, so she did. But not before doing the thing she had originally come here to do.

“Don’t miss me too much” Spider- Woman grins as she shoots her spider webs sticking her hands on the counter. With ease she headed towards the freezer placing the bag of pees on her foot. “Same time next week?” She continued while taking the stash Y/n had stolen the past week. Shewaving the bag in the air and slipped out of the window. Y/n slammed her head against the counter pissed out of her mind but her eyes quickly adverted to her phone, which continuously vibrated next to her.

“Dad is so going to kill me” Y/n slammed her head against the counter pissed out of her mind but her eyes quickly adverted to her phone, which continuously vibrated next to her. Before she could even attempt to see who was texting her due to the fact that her hands were glued onto the table her dad stumbled in a cynical look on his face.

“What the hell dad ?!” She exclaimed, scared shitless at his sudden appearance.

“You have to be alert, pumpkin. You can’t expect the good guys to give you a heads up before killing you” her dad responded in a bored tone while taking a mug and placing it in front of her. He took a look at her as he sat down on the stool in front of her making himself comfortable while Y/n stayed still looking at the mug. Why was he being nice? What did she do? Was he going to kill her? How did he find out about spiderman so quickly?

“I thought you said, you weren’t going to be here today” She responded awkwardly shifting side to side. Her gaze turned to everywhere but her dad. while sitting down on the couch she brought the coffee towards her lips but was met with nothing.

“Well I thought so too. I wanted to enjoy my time in the lab but I saw through the security cameras you were almost kissing Spider Woman and decided it was time for me to come back.” He said while taking the mug in his hand while taking a sip.

“Oh, please dad. We weren’t flirting with each other. We are literal arch nemesis, I can’t stand her. How could I even flirt with her? ” Y/n muttered while looking at the sticky mess in her hands attempting to take it off.

“Didn’t you have a crush on someone from your school? Mabel?” Her dad replied, placing the mug down. Y/n could feel her face turn red as she looked towards.

“It’s Haze..You know what it’s not important. That clearly isn’t the reason you’re here so please go on and tell me. What was the big plan you had for us?”

“We are going to kill Spider Woman” He responded nonchalantly while looking around the house.

“What?” Y/n looked at him in shock, she had never killed anyone in her life. She wasn’t that type of criminal barely reaching that high of a crime in their crime schemes.

“But before we do that I need your help” He responded shortly, looking at his daughter. Y/n let out a sigh turning to look at him.

“You always do, dad”

“I want you to find her real identity. Find it, become her friend, gain her trust and bring her to me so I can kill her. You’ll become the greatest sidekick known to mankind” He said while standing up from the chair.

“I’m not your sidekick,” She muttered. “And to prove it, I’m taking this week off. I’m busy with school” Y/n replied as she watched her dad walk towards the door.

“Well, when you come back you better find who’s Spider- Woman” he replied before slamming the door, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

“How’s your day? Did you enjoy school? Did you eat?” She said to herself as she imitated her dads voice.

She didn’t know what her dad’s fascination with Spider-Woman was. But part of her wanted to find out who she was and uncover it. She would get all the rep around the city for revealing her identity . Y/n L/n was going to uncover who she was even if it was the death of her. Her dad would be her sidekick. If Spider-Woman died it was going to be in her hands, that's for sure.

Before she could even finish fantasizing over killing Spider-Woman her phone vibrated once again making her turn towards it, reading the flashing messages.

Hazel:

Sorry for bothering you so late. But just wanted to know if you still want to do the project together. If not I can do both parts together, it’s no problem.

Hazel:

By the way, it’s Hazel.

part one

...

thank you for reading

#hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x you #hazel x reader #hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #bottoms movie #ruby cruz #ruby cruz x reader #kit tanthalos #kit tanthalos x reader #lesbian #wlw #sapphic #hazel callahan spiderwoman #spiderman #marvel #reader insert #hazel callahan reader insert

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tvseries-writings · 9 months

Text

Hard choices, hard life

Carina Deluca x Maya Bishop x reader

TW: depression, suicide attempt, obsessive compulsive disorder, pills

At the very sweet age of fourteen, you were diagnosed with depression, right after Diane, your psychologist at the time, diagnosed you with what you still call your cruel companion, a little disorder that was actually slowly killing you from the inside out until just a few minutes ago. In fact, you have nothing to lose now. In fact, a few Tolep, Zoloft, and Xanax will knock you out in a few moments - very few - if only you have the courage to throw them in your stomach right now.

Even though you have nothing left to lose, there are two people you could never hurt, and the mere thought of hurting them makes you sick. Maya and Carina, damn them, have gotten inside you and torn down your walls like no one else ever could. And now, in the utter desperation that drives you to the "extreme act," you should feel guilty, and yet you don't. Maybe it's the pills, or maybe it's the sense of freedom you're feeling that's clouding all your other thoughts and feelings.

Carina was the first to notice your OCD, only a month into your relationship. Although you never tried to hide it from either of your girls, there were rituals that they never had a chance to see, such as touching the faucet knob three times before you could open it, checking three times to make sure that all the car doors were closed, or putting on your seat belt three times before you were sure that you had finally buckled it properly and that this would not result in a potential and very likely fatal accident involving your two girls. In short, Carina had discovered all of this by carefully observing your habits, and after discussing it with Maya, the two of them had confronted you. That evening was anything but pleasant.

As for the depression, they noticed it over time, with the bad days and the dull eyes that worried them so much that they practically forced you to go to weekly sessions with your child psychologist, Diane, who of course immediately put you back on medication on the advice of a psychiatrist Carina knew. In the early days, whenever you were down, it was hard for me to leave you alone, and even though they tried to hide it, you always noticed. Always. It was only after a year and a few months that her fear began to subside. When you think about it, you almost laugh; right now, that fear of a possible impulsive and fatal act on your part would probably be your salvation. Not that you would want that, of course. Or maybe...no, you don't want to be saved. You have hit rock bottom; the decision is already made and the plan is already in place.

Most likely, Carina will be the one to find you, right? She is the first to return to your apartment after work, to the small but comfortable apartment you have been calling home for more than four years—to that little place of paradise where all problems disappear, or at least, they seem to. But, as it turns out, they never completely disappear; otherwise, you would not be in this situation. You close your eyes and lean your head against the bathroom wall; the cold marble tiles send a chill up your spine as you stare at what you clutch in your right hand—a handful of pills that you have been preparing for months now. Many people say suicide is an impulsive act, but for a person with OCD? Nothing is impulsive, not even suicide. Everything is meticulously calculated and planned. You have been planning this day for months—at least three, if I am not mistaken. Of course, it's always three. After all, multiples of three are your favorites, aren't they?

Throughout your life, you have had to make hard choices, but this is by far the most selfish. You are aware of it; you know that Maya and Carina will suffer as they never have; you know it because if either of them died in any way, especially in this way, you would never, ever be able to go on living with such emptiness inside.

A trembling breath escapes your lips; you cannot back out, not now, not when you are so close to the goal. You owe it to yourself, you owe it to them and the burden you are to the world. It sounds self-centered on your part but you don't give a shit anymore. You're tired of thinking about others, how they're going to feel, what you have to say to keep them from feeling bad...you're tired, of everything. You thought you could live for them but you were wrong. But maybe, if you really have to be honest with yourself you probably never wanted to go all the way. After all, a person who does not want to be saved is very difficult to help. When therapy doesn't work, you change, but you didn't say anything; you kept smiling again and again until, today, in the last three months, you let the rock you had tied to your ankle drag you to the bottom. It is no one's fault but your own. You're more than aware of it but it's so hard to keep going, it's so fucking hard that you get sick to your stomach just thinking that, in case you don't take these damn pills tonight, you'll be forced to face the world out there once again. No, you can't do it, you can't. Yet, Carina's look at Andrew's death and the Italian's despair and Maya's heartbroken look and her self-destruction after Dean's death...No! You can't think and you don't have to think about them, about the pain you will cause them and from which they can never move on. You can already see Maya, her head in her hands, sitting on the couch on which so many nights you have spent together, blaming herself for not seeing the signs, for not noticing your clouds; you can already see Carina's tears and hear her screams muffled by the sound of the siren of the truck of the 19’s Station.

A small and elusive tear slips down your cheek, sliding down your chin before falling on the letter you hold in your left hand. The usual "it's not your fault, you have to move on, I love you" letter You're such a hypocrite; you're fucking disgusting. If only you could swallow those pills without thinking about the two of them.

The sound of your phone ringing echoes through the bathroom, startling you so much that the pills you were holding tightly in your hand scatter on the floor.

You pick up the pills, letting your phone ring. Again and again, until, finally, it stops and goes to voicemail.

"Hey Bambina, I forgot my keys. I know, I know, you and Maya are always telling me that if it wasn't because I have it attached, I'd be able to lose my mind too, but can you do me a favor? Leave the keys on the door because I'm parking right now and I don't want to ring the doorbell or Max will glare and the neighbors will complain."

A small laugh escapes the Italian's lips as she greets you with an "I love you." God, how you love that laugh.

And, just as Max has heard the voice of his favorite mistress, he joins you in the bathroom and starts sniffing the pills on the floor. You open your eyes wide, awakening from your trance-like state, and shoo him away ungently before quickly picking up all the pills. You hold them in your hand, clutching them as if they were the most important thing in the world, and hide them in your pants pocket.

Panic grips your chest as you realize that all your plans are blown and you will now have to start over. You mentally repeat to yourself if you have performed all your rituals: if you have touched the doorknob three times, given Max the kibble by placing it three at a time in the bowl before putting it down, washed your hands for twelve seconds three times after eating, you have done nothing wrong, yet fate has screwed you over, so you must have done something wrong; there is no other way, not for your brain at least. After all, it's hard to reason rationally with OCD.

You don't even realize that you have opened the front door for Carina as you feel that, slowly, your panic attack is taking you deeper. It's one you haven't had in a long time. Your heart almost seems to explode in your chest. You put your hand on it, feeling the force with which it beats against your rib cage. You're so focused on the simple act of breathing that you don't notice Max scratching at your leg to try to get your attention, nor the door opening. Carina enters the apartment, and the smile on her face quickly fades as she sees Max whimper against your leg and your chest rise and fall all too quickly.

Carina lets her bag slide to the ground before letting herself fall to her knees in front of you. Her eyes scrutinize you with concern, trying to figure out how long you have been in this state or whether you hurt yourself unconsciously during the panic attack.

"Bambina, look at me." Carina takes your face in her hands, stroking your cheeks gently. "Hey, hey, eyes on me. You need to breathe, okay? Breathe love."

You feel the warmth of her hands on your cheeks, but although you see her lips moving, you don't actually feel anything. The only sound you can hear is that of your heart practically exploding.

You pull away from his touch, and your breathing becomes even faster. His voice comes muffled to your ears.

"No, no, no, hey, hey, eyes on me. Y/n...love, you need to breathe. It's okay; I'm here with you; you're not alone. Bambina breathe."

The urgency in Carina's voice makes you barely look up, but your panic attack doesn't stop; in fact, it keeps getting worse. Carina runs a hand through her hair, thinking about what to do and coming up with the only possible solution.

"I'm going to pick you up now, okay? I'm sorry, Bambina, but I have to; it's for your own good."

The doctor takes you in her arms despite your protests, carries you into the bathroom, and puts you in the shower before opening the cold jet by entering with you and holding you tightly in her arms so you don't fall out.

The cold jet hits you with the same brutality as that of a high-speed train. You gasp, trying to pull away, but Carina won't let you. She holds you close to her as you come completely out of your panic attack—not until about fifteen minutes under the cold jet, though.

"Here they are, the eyes I love so much," Carina whispers softly against your temple, leaving you a kiss and then covering you with a towel, trying to get you dry as quickly as possible. You let Carina undress you, put on clean, dry clothes, and then begin drying your hair with such a gentle amount of gentleness that it almost makes you cry.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch the bathroom, thinking about how that night should have been different, especially for your girls. Your eyes widen when you see the letter you carelessly abandoned on the bathroom floor, reminding you that Carina might very well read the letter if she only noticed it. That simple and seemingly innocuous thought almost gives you another panic attack.

You jerk up, not thinking straight, not thinking that this strange behavior of yours will draw Carina's attention to you any more than it already did with your panic attack. You bend down, under the confused gaze of the Italian doctor, and pick up the letter, then flush it down the toilet. Your hands tremble as you do so, and Carina notices.

The doctor picks up your wet clothes from the floor and is about to throw them into the dirty, striped laundry basket that Maya was so insistent that you keep in the bathroom, but she does not. Her fingers graze a small bulge in the right pocket of your shorts. The Italian frowns, not recognizing, through her density, the thing to which that small bump is due. So she just sticks her hand in the pocket, and you are far too devolved and paranoid about the letter to notice what she is doing; in fact, you don't even try to stop her. When Carina pulls her hand out of her pocket, your heart leaps and almost seems to stop. The cold water has succeeded in bringing you out of your panic attack but has failed to completely dissolve the pills, much to your misfortune. Carina holds that shapeless, disgusting slop in her hands; it takes her a few seconds to realize it's pills. And though she wants to deny it to herself, it takes her even less time to realize what you were about to do.

"Please tell me this is not what I think. Please y/n."

You don't have the courage to answer her; who would have any? You feel so stupid right now. Carina starts sobbing, sitting on the floor. You lean your back against the wall and shake your head over and over again, clutching your hair in the fingers of your left hand as if to convince yourself that this is not real. When you do not answer, Carina gets her answer; silence is tacit consent, and you both know this very well.

You kneel in front of your girlfriend; you take her hands in yours, gently stroking her knuckles.

"Car, car, look at me. It's okay, I'm here.”

She shakes her head, reaching out to you and holding you in her arms. As she traps you in her grip, she cannot control the sobs that shake her body.

"I'm so sorry I didn't notice; I'm so sorry, my love..."

"Car, don't say that, please. It's not your fault or Maya's fault; everything is just too much sometimes, often, almost always. And I love you so much, but I can't take it. I don't see any other solution, Carina."

Your voice breaks as you say this; as bad as it is to admit, you feel relieved. You have felt this thought oppressing your chest for so long, and now that you have revealed it, you finally feel free of the unbearable boulder you have been forced to bear for months.

Carina remains silent, merely holding you tightly to her and stroking your hair. She hides her face in the space between your shoulder and jaw, inhaling deeply of your scent. The Italian trembles only at the thought that she could no longer have snuggled into your warm embrace if you had done what you intended to do more than an hour ago. With a shuddering breath and without letting go of you, Carina slips her own phone out of the pocket of the tight-fitting Levis jeans that you and Maya both approved of after an intense staring session focused on the beautiful backside of your beloved girlfriend.

"Y/n, I know you'd like to do that, but we can't pretend it's not happening. I'd be safer getting you admitted."Carina freezes when she feels your body stiffen in her arms and your breathing become shorter. "But I don't want you to do anything that doesn't make you feel comfortable, so this is completely your decision. Of course, if you're going to stay at home, we'll have to set some rules here."

Carina whispers in your ear, pulling away just enough to look into your eyes and brush a strand of unruly hair away from your face.

"Whatever you choose, we both know that Maya must be aware of everything you are feeling and happening to you; she better than anyone can understand what you are feeling, Bambina."

Carina watches you carefully, and when you open your mouth to protest and to tell her that you don't want to give them any additional weight and that Maya already has a lot to do with her role at the station, she stops you immediately, shaking her head firmly.

"No, this will not be questioned. I will call her now and tell her to go home because we need her. Our jobs are not more important than yours; don't ever think that."

The doctor leaves a kiss on your temple before getting up and leaving the bathroom to make the call. She doesn't close the door; the terror and knot in her stomach she feels at even the thought of leaving you alone won't let her. She is terrified that your mind will get the better of you, especially after today, after a few moments when you were about to commit madness.

The phone call is brief and coincidental; Carina doesn't say too much, just talking about the panic attack. She doesn't want Maya to drive home with the same fear she is feeling right now. As soon as the call ends and Maya assures you of her return to your apartment in less than a quarter of an hour, Carina's arms encircle your sides again, and your embrace squeezes you just as it did moments before. She definitely has no intention of letting you go.

A little sneeze on your part makes you both gasp and realize that your hair is still partially wet. Although you insist on drying it yourself, Carina won't let you; she is more than happy to do it for you, and right now she needs to be with you as long as possible. Before you know it, Max is waving goodbye to his favorite mistress as well as his lieutenant.

"Hi, boy, where are your moms?" Maya smiles, patting the small German shepherd puppy on the head before heading toward the only lit room. The sight that greets Maya as soon as she enters your bedroom is what makes her dream at night: Carina with her arms around your hips, holding you close, wearing only a white shirt and black lace underwear, spooning you from behind.

"Hey, I'm home. What happened, baby?"

You feel the mattress lower as soon as Maya sits down on it. The blonde firefighter strokes your arm gently and smiles at you. She is worried about you but tries to hide it as best as she can. Of course, both you and Carina notice; the blonde cannot hide anything from you after all these years.

You remain silent, avoiding answering that very difficult question. You are actually very tired and ashamed, not daring to look up and look at one of the loves of your life as you confess to her that missed act.

Carina leaves you a kiss on the temple before leaving her grip on you, though with great effort. You watch her get out of bed and drag Maya out of the room, knocking on the door.

When the light fails so much that you can't even draw the contours of the candlestick over your head, you release the breath you've held up until that moment. You're sorry; you're embarrassed, of course, but not for the reason that your girls might think... no, don't be ashamed to have tried and to want to try; I hate you for not having succeeded. You are so angry with yourself; you are more than aware of the fact that that feeling of freedom you experienced before will never return, not with the burden that now oppresses your chest for the bitterness of being discovered and of not having completed what should have been done instead.

Silent tears dig your zigoms before ending up on the sides of the pillow; bed covers rise and fall at the same time as your chest. For a moment, just for a moment, you close your eyes and tell yourself that all this has never happened, that Carina has not found the pills, and that you have succeeded in your attempt to eliminate yourself once for all from the face of the planet. But when the light that returns to embrace the room and the light of the door that is again opened make you open your eyes, the dream disappears in the same way that an oasis in the desert turns out to be only a hallucination, nothing more.

You're watching Maya. Her eyes are glossy, her lips are rosy, and she can't stand still, moving her weight from one foot to the other. Carina returns to the same position in which you were before the arrival of the other girl and as soon as she does it, the relief of the Italian being close again and of your warm skin in contact with her makes her relax immediately. It feels like the moment she left the room, she stopped breathing, and now, finally, she can do it again.

Maya lies in front of you, leans her forehead against yours, and gently caresses your face.

"I would like to take away the feeling of emptiness that you are feeling right now," her whispering words resonate in the room as you are wrapped in the heat emanating from both their bodies. "I wish to be able to do so because I know this burden my love, and it is not something I would ever want to see in you, in either of you two."

Some tears tear her cheeks, but Maya dries them quickly, not because she doesn't want to be weak but because she is well aware that you need all her support right now. She'll cry later, when your eyes are closed in a sweet sleep, and she'll be sure you're still here, with her, with them.

“I don’t want you to pursue the clouds like I did y/n; clouds can seem beautiful, sweet, and soft, but remember that it’s clouds that carry the stormy, my love, and we can’t lose our sun because I’m afraid that clouds would swallow us up without your light.”

The firefighter caresses your face with the same care and delicacy with which someone handle a brush on a candid white canvas.

Carina is just clinging to you; the knot in her throat prevents her from speaking, but even if you don't have the strength to tell him right now, the confidence that his arms around you give you is more than enough.

A long-held whimper shakes your chest, and your girls tighten you a little stronger, anchoring you to reality and not letting you escape and fly into your shady and irrational mind. You let go to a freeing cry, to whispers and weeping that, though necessary, break the hearts of your soulmates. And they let you blow up; they hold you back; they whisper sweet words followed by small, delicate kisses in your hair, cuddling you like you were a baby in a belt that's desperate as soon as she's born.

It takes more than ten minutes before you can calm down. Carina massages your back, softening the pain of the continuous whispers that have shaken your bones as Maya keeps kissing away your tears.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I don’t think I can do it without help it’s all too much." You take a break; everything you’re saying is hard to deal with, but say it out loud. Well, that’s a whole other story. “Rituals are killing me; I’m not doing anything without thinking that something might go wrong, that you two might die because I am wrong about some stupid passage of the fucking and-”

"Hey, hey, it's all right. It's going to be all right; we'll be here at every step, Bella. We don't leave you alone; you're not alone, and you'll never be. We won't let you think of reaching the clouds again, okay? Never again, baby."“Your pain is our pain; your suffering is our suffering, until the end." Carina strings you even more, extending her hand towards Maya to tell her to do the same, and there, in their arms, it seems to you that you are away from all the problems of the world. You just feel like a number in an infinity of numbers; you feel like a thread in a lawn and there's something incredibly reassuring about being just a thread, because a thread is not responsible for all the evils in the world. (Cit. ZeroCalcare)

Thank you for reading! Was it hard to write? Yes, but it is also extremely liberating. I hope it will help some of you. Ah, and of course, have a great day!

P.s: sorry, it’s a very long fic

Taglist: @mmmmokdok @chaekhan @blackhill2245 @melatonindaydreamz @foggytidalwavefun @sevnheaven @budoxinha @gayshyandreadytocry @lighthousekiller @m456300 @blitzar-3 @in-love-with-heda @idontknownemore @lesbianbabe @speedup500 @differentranchempathfestival @mebeingthatbitch @jemilyswife @yuleni18 @whyamihere2673 @reggierizzoli

#wlw #maya x carina x reader #station 19 #carina deluca x reader #maya bishop #maya bishop x reader #carina deluca #firefighter #tw depressing stuff #tw selfhate #carina x maya

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hard-core-super-star · 9 months

Note

May I please request that Hailee and reader are in a secret relationship, and hailee is on instagram live, fans can hear movement and voices in the background and keep asking hailee whose with her.

meet me there, i'll give you your roses [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: hailee steinfeld x reader

summary: just because you two are supposed to be keeping your relationship a secret doesn't mean you can't have some fun with it.

warnings: none, just fluff; secret relationship shenanigans; weird descriptions of an instagram live chat; still can't write endings :)

wordcount: 1k

a/n: full disclosure, the title has nothing to do with the fic at all, i'm just spreading the måneskin agenda. i sort of messed around with the point of view in this fic, it might not be noticeable but just wanted to point it out in case it's confusing. it's more hailee-centric than my other fics instead of it just being about R's thoughts. you'll see what i mean, hope you enjoy! <3

* * * * * * *

Hailee’s eyes are trained on the screen of her phone while she tells the most ridiculously random story she could think of. It’s been far too long since the last time she did an Instagram Live and her excitement at getting to interact with her fans again is more than a little obvious.

Free time has been harder and harder to find between all the photoshoots and interviews, especially considering there's only one person she wants to talk to when her schedule allows it.

“And then y/n had to come in and-”

You look up at the sound of your name. You hadn’t been paying much attention to her story, too busy looking through food delivery apps and trying to decide what to have for dinner.

The original plan was to cook something for dinner but a certain someone decided to do an impulsive Live instead and so the plan was scrapped. Not that you mind. Hailee’s skill in the kitchen is…a work in progress, at least when it comes to potato peels.

Her eyes meet yours almost as if she knows exactly what you’re thinking about. You half expect her to stick her tongue out at you but doing that would only lead to more questions she can’t answer.

You offer her a smile instead before the two of you go back to looking at your respective phones.

Hailee resumes her story, pretending she got distracted by one of her dogs and not her lovely girlfriend. It’s practically impossible to act like she can’t see all the questions pouring in about who she was actually looking at but she manages. (It’s not like acting is her job or anything)

The questions and comments flying by her screen should be annoying or at the very least overwhelming but she ends up finding them quite entertaining. She’s not about to pretend like questions about her sexuality or who she’s dating are anything new but at least now they’re less straightforward (no pun intended) than when she was on Dickinson.

At least she's not actually trying to keep things a secret this time. She's just waiting for the right time. Although the waiting gets harder every time you look at her like she's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen. She'd be upset if she wasn't aware that's exactly how she looks at you.

She tries to keep your name out of her mouth for at least a few minutes to not look super obvious but she fails miserably. “Where’s y/n?” She reads the question out loud before she can stop herself. “I don't know, probably burning down the apartment.”

An offended gasp comes from the side of the room where you're standing and you know you're kidding yourself if you think her phone didn't pick up the sound.

The look she sends your way says as much and you mentally curse yourself. Although, to be completely honest, if there's one thing you both love more than each other it's feeding the theories about your relationship.

The both of you should definitely be more careful if you don't want to get found out but creating chaos within her fandom is just too much fun. Plus, the only reason you two are sneaking around is because Hailee wants to come out ‘the right way’. Whatever that means.

(You're pretty sure it means a song and a music video featuring you but your girlfriend has been very tight-lipped about her music since SunKissing came out. A song that very well serves as a coming out announcement in your opinion.)

You decide to fix your mistake by turning people's attention elsewhere so you open up Instagram and click on Hailee’s profile. You can hear the chuckle she tries to hold back once she reads your comment.

yourusername: are you insulting my cooking skills again, Steinfeld?

The chat explodes into a flurry of comments that a certain pair of brown eyes can't keep up with.

“I'm just telling people the truth,” she replies. “There's a reason you always order food instead of cooking.”

yourusername: yeah. you never wash the dishes

“Oh, that's low.”

She forgets the game you're playing for a second, looking up to glare at you. Her eyes don't end up meeting yours since you're too busy staring down at your phone.

A small smile spreads along her face as she admires you. Even in the middle of teasing her in front of her fans, you're the most amazing thing she's ever laid eyes on. Eyes that give away the fact that she's not home alone like she originally said she was.

She looks back at her phone just in time to catch sight of the many questions she has to avoid. Such as,”Who are you looking at? Is y/n at your place? Are you having dinner together?”

She ignores them all except the one that comes from the person who owns her heart.

yourusername: so, what are YOU cooking for dinner, chef steinfeld???

The response she comes up with is definitely a bad idea but it slips out anyway. “I don't know. What do you want for dinner?”

She tries to cover up the sound of your laugh by ‘accidentally’ kicking some of Martini’s squeaky dog toys. It's a bad coverup but it's the only choice she has. It would be a lot more believable if her dogs weren't asleep in the bedroom.

yourusername: too late, i already ordered cheeseburgers

“Marry me right now,” she replies, her smile turning into a slight smirk.

You know she's messing around but your heart still skips a couple of beats as you type out your response.

yourusername: i'll think about it ;)

The doorbell rings just in time.

You let her wrap up the Live as you pick up your food. By the time you come back, her phone is gone and she's already curled up on the couch scrolling through Netflix for something to watch.

“That was fast,” you say.

She shrugs. “Thought I should help you reconsider my proposal.”

“Food first, proposal later.” You hand the bag holding your dinner over to her.

“Seriously, y/n, could you be any more perfect?”

The laugh that escapes you is enough of an answer for her. You're everything she's ever wanted.

#hailee steinfeld x reader #hailee steinfeld x female reader #hailee steinfeld x you #hailee steinfeld x y/n #hailee steinfeld fic #hailee steinfeld fluff #hailee steinfeld imagine #hailee steinfeld fanfiction #hailee steinfeld #hawkeye #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #wlw #wlw fic #writing

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chamomiletealeaf · 4 months

Note

hello! I’m writing for TF141 and I especially want to write for Gaz. However for some reason I keep just lumping him with the same personality as Soap. Tips ;-;??

Hi! I'm so flattered you asked me for advice omg :) Well, from what I've noticed in the game, I personally think Gaz is very intuitive. I think he watches from afar and knows what's gonna happen before it actually does, but doesn't give his opinion unless asked. Part of that I think is one, like I said before, his intuition, but also his training and guidance from Price. I personally think Gaz has had the best character development of all the Task Force since the MW reboot, because he goes from this frustrated recruit not knowing what is too much for him and how to handle it when it is too much, to someone so in control of himself that he's gained phenomenal intuition and self control. He's quiet, calm, an observer like Simon, but he actually is quite snarky (hence his cocky little jokes to Laswell and Price in the MW2 campaign). In the first MW reboot campaign I believe it was, where Gaz had to lead the doctor around the mercs from the security cameras I think showed exceptional intuition and self control since he was so sure she was getting out of there alive and what routes to take. I think that also had to do with just him being a good soldier, but he was very confident (even if it was a playable scene and not a cinematic one, we played as Gaz.) Gaz is always calm when he just knows a situation will turn out alright, and if he visibly panics? You better panic too lol. Soap also led Ghost around mercs in I believe the second campaign? Might have been the third but I believe Soap is just handy with tech due to his demolitions training. Both scenes are very similar, but I feel like Gaz works under pressure more efficiently than Soap mostly because of Soap's temper (Like the scene were Soap almost killed Makarov.)

Anyway, that's just me rambling about my pookie Gaz lol, but I would say the main similarities and differences between Soap and Gaz are:

Differences

Soap is impulsive, hot headed, loud, while Gaz is quiet, a man who thinks before he acts and makes sure everyone's on board with a plan before he jumps into action, intuitive, only gives his two cents when asked, a great advice giver and listener (that last one is just from what vibes I personally get from him rather than from observation throughout the campaigns.) And I think he handles pressure and his temper better.

Similarities

Both Gaz and Soap are both witty and silly. They both are able to find that childlike joy despite the horrors they witness. However, they both know when to be serious even if Soap is a bit more out of pocket than Gaz.

I love both so much, and I'm not saying Gaz is a better soldier than Soap by any means, but that they're different, and handle situations differently.

So when it comes to writing Gaz, I would take all of this into consideration such as: How would a calm approach to this situation be?/ How would observing this situation rather than engaging in it affect the characters?/ What advice could be given to other characters from a well thought out point of view (Gaz's pov)?

I feel like Gaz really thinks before he acts unlike Soap.

And if you wanna get more fun with it, I would ask myself: How would two knuckleheads (Gaz and Soap) observe and react to a funny or shocking situation while staying in character?/ How do clashing personalities bond? In this case, their humor is the same, so writing situations where the two of them are together and giggling at something silently in front of whoever they're laughing at I think is the perfect balance between observing and acting on impulse/lack of self control, thus blending their personalities together.

Sorry if that was a lot, I had a lot to say. I love talking about character personalities and actually evaluated Soap's personality for a college psychology of personality final lol (Got an A).

I hope all of my yapping helps at least a little bit!

#call of duty #cod #cod mw #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #kyle gaz garrick #gaz #gaz garrick #gaz cod #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap mactavish #soap cod

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planetkiimchi · 8 months

Text

and they were roommates | l.dh

featuring: lee haechan x masc!reader, nct dream

warnings: a little (?) bit of gore, blood, and a “crunching sound” which in my head was bone breaking. swearing but not a lot, alcohol is mentioned, ynhyuck get really drunk at some point, the first line is a bit painful to read but that’s just what cold weather feels like, yn has major regrets quite a lot. y/n is oblivious but in their defense, donghyuck is really fucking flirty and the mixed signals are confusing to everyone. y/n doesn’t like coffee (deal with it) and eats pizza in the absolute weirdest way possible.

word count: 13882 words

playlist: nonsense by sabrina carpenter // photograph by ed sheeran // fallin' (adrenaline) by why don't we // sweet nothing by taylor swift // coffee shop by flowerovlove // really wanna dance with you by new rules

summary — lee donghyuck is the most flirtatious person you’ve ever known and he makes you feel welcome in the foreign country. it makes sense that you gravitate towards him, but what do you do when you realise you’re falling for him with every act of his?

a/n: this has been rotting in my drafts since march, and it really only made it out because of @winterchimez thank you so, so much to ally for reading this longass incoherent fic and allowing me to share this piece of my heart with you guys

if you liked it, REBLOG it.

THE BITING WIND BLEW HARSHLY at your cheeks, turning them redder than they already were. It felt as if there were a million shards of ice slowly chipping away at your skin, your skin cells freezing off your face.

What a warm welcome to Seoul, you thought sardonically.

You had enrolled in Seoul Institute of the Arts for one reason alone, and that was that the only cousin who was your age, Na Jaemin, had applied to go there last year. Having made an unexpected decision not to go into Neurosciences like the rest of his friends, Jaemin found himself blissfully alone and afraid to apply. He wasn’t planning on going alone, yet he desperately wanted to get in, so he had decided to turn to you for assistance.

That was the first time you had heard him admit that you were his favourite cousin (you probably weren’t). You had been on the other end of the spectrum at the time, completely unsure what direction you wanted your life to continue in. You had had no idea what to pursue, and had hence decided to make an impulsive decision to apply to Seoul Institute of the Arts with Jaemin.

To be very honest, you hadn’t expected to get in. It was a spur of the moment decision, and SIA was an extremely prestigious university. Your background in visual arts was minimal, so you were mostly relying on your extensive dance history to carry you through it.

Unfortunately for you, it worked. This was how you had ended up on the plane to Seoul a year later, your regret almost as bitter as the cold when you thought about how lonely you would be.

Your grasp of the Korean language was minimal, and you hated how the phonetic sounds differed just slightly, enough for you to get it wrong but not for you to understand why.

It was alright when you lived in the United Kingdom, because there you only had to say a few words in Korean to impress your non-Korean relatives. Privately, your mother had taken you out of the Korean international school when she saw that your Korean hadn’t improved in the slightest.

In Korea, you would be disadvantaged both by the language barrier and your lack of passion for your major. Besides, if the weather continued to be as cold as it was at the moment, you might as well have stayed in England. At least there, you could romantically share an umbrella with someone in the dreary rain. What could you do in Korea, huddle with someone as you ran from building to building while a flurry of white snow fell from the sky? How pathetic.

You were absorbed in your thoughts, feet carrying you mindlessly through the steps towards the arrival area. You struggled and stuttered your way through immigration with broken sentences, finally making your way to the taxi stand.

You were mentally preparing yourself to exit the warmth of the airport and face the freezing temperatures when you heard your name, face turning towards the direction of the familiar voice.

Jaemin ran up to you, the soft smile gracing his face as close to a wide grin as you could get from him. He threw his hands around you, hugging you tightly, and you collapsed into his warmth, so relieved that he was there. Maybe Seoul wouldn’t be so bad after all.

When he let go of you, composing himself, you took the time to scan the new faces. Jaemin hadn’t come alone; he had come with three other friends, who were all looking at you expectantly with welcoming gazes.

“I’m L/n Y/n,” you told them politely. “Jaemin’s my cousin, and my mother and his father are siblings.” With that, you ran out of things to say, and you stared at the group with an awkward smile as the silence turned thick with hesitation.

The silence was then broken by a rather cheerful individual amongst Jaemin’s friends, who said, “Shall we go? It’s late, and I’m sure you’re tired from the long flight. We’ll take a taxi back to the dormitory and show you your room. You and Jaemin are staying together, right?”

You nodded gratefully as the young man took the lead, and the rest of you followed suit. Jaemin reached out to help you with your luggage, but you shook your head. There was no need since you hadn’t brought much to Korea. You intended to buy anything you needed there since you assumed the clothes you needed would be quite different from those you owned.

You quickly came to realise that the young man who had just spoken was the only extrovert in the group. You and Jaemin were introverts and perfectly content to sit in silence. The others didn’t seem to make any attempt to strike up a conversation, letting the silence settle comfortably over you. However, despite being in the passenger seat and therefore the furthest from the rest, the young man simply wouldn’t stop talking.

He introduced himself as Lee Donghyuck who had graduated from the same high school as Jaemin. He and Jaemin had only met a month ago when they first moved into the dorm. You had had to make arrangements for your flight when you received the acceptance letter, so you were among the later few to arrive.

Although Donghyuck and Jaemin were essentially strangers, it wouldn’t have seemed so to a passerby. Donghyuck ensured that there was never a dull or awkward moment and that no opportunity to flirt with his friends was missed.

You had only known Donghyuck for an hour and yet you were already starting to like him. You relaxed into the seat, closing your eyes and exhaling in relief as the sound of Donghyuck’s voice prattling away filled your ears.

He talked during the entire ride, telling you about the rooming conditions—four to a room, and you were with him, Renjun and Mark, the other two in the car—, the professors’ reputations that he had gotten from the seniors, and the other three boys who were sleeping and weren’t able to pick you up.

Usually a talk like that would have drained your energy, using up all your social battery trying to think of a reply to keep the conversation going. However, the thing about Donghyuck was that he didn’t expect you to answer. He was perfectly fine with the sound of his voice being the only thing filling the silence, which made it much more bearable.

—

You only realised that you had fallen asleep when Jaemin shook your shoulder to wake you up. In the corner of your bleary vision, you caught sight of Mark paying for the ride, and you instinctively reached for your wallet before realising it was safely tucked away in your back pocket. Which you were sitting on.

Sighing, you silently apologised to your parents for not maintaining basic etiquette and insisting on paying, clambering out of the taxi with shaky legs, feeling a little tired (not that you would admit it).

You soon realised that Donghyuck was a clingy person. While you leaned on Jaemin for support as you wheeled your luggage along, he leaned on Renjun’s shoulder, upbeat as ever despite the late timing. The high-pitched voice that he used to talk to Renjun would have been cringey if it wasn’t him doing it. Somehow, when Donghyuck was doing it, it was cute and endearing.

The room that you were assigned was on the second floor, so you had to choose between climbing the stairs and lugging the heavy luggage up or walking out of the way to find the lift.

Obviously, as the lazy person that you were, you chose the former. With a grunt and a heave, you somehow managed to get the luggage up the stairs while Donghyuck cheered you on.

“You’ve got this, Y/n! I believe in you!” When he saw that it wasn’t working, he even threw in a little “Fighting!” and you smiled despite your exhaustion. You would have laughed if the ache in your shoulders wasn’t killing you.

Fortunately, that was the hardest part. The rest was easy—you left your shoes outside the door, placed your luggage at the side so you could unpack your nightwear and take the things you needed for your shower. Donghyuck, Mark and Renjun followed you inside while Jaemin retreated to his own room.

The room was surprisingly cozy, with enough space for a bookcase, desk, and four single beds. There was a mini fridge in the corner of the room, so that was what you went to first.

The guys had placed their personal belongings neatly, so you followed suit, taking out your personal items and setting your luggage upright against the wall. While you did so, Mark and Donghyuck used the two attached restrooms to get changed while Renjun sat on the floor and watched you curiously.

“Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking? You couldn’t have studied in Korea, surely. Jaemin didn’t exactly tell us much about you,” Renjun said.

“My mother grew up in Korea, and went to England to study. She met my father there, and I grew up in England, but I do know a little Korean,” you said with difficulty. “And you? Your name doesn’t sound very Korean either.”

“I’m from China but came to Korea because my grandmother suggested it. I actually came on a scholarship and went to the same high school as Donghyuck. All of us went to the same one, actually.”

You nodded in understanding. Understandably, people gravitated towards those they knew, especially in unfamiliar environments.

“Donghyuck actually initiated this. I’m not sure if you realised, but he’s very outgoing. He somehow found out all of our phone numbers, knew of my existence through passing me in the hallways, got Jaemin’s number from a mutual friend, Jeno, and created a group chat. Even now, I still think it was a lot of effort, but it seems to have worked. And, you know, it isn’t half as awkward anymore.”

That did sound like something you would expect of Donghyuck, you thought. As Renjun finished speaking, Donghyuck and Mark came out of the restroom, and you brushed past them as you went inside to take a quick shower.

—

The shower did wonders for your exhaustion. Your muscles didn’t feel half as tense anymore, and you actually felt fresh and comfortable in warm clothes. You rubbed your hair dry as you exited the restroom, glancing at the filled beds.

Mark and Renjun were lying in bed, and they gave you a quick goodnight as you made your way over to the last empty bed, right next to Donghyuck. He was dressed in a baggy hoodie, sitting hunched over at the edge of his bed, looking intently at his phone.

If it were Jaemin, who also happened to have a terrible shrimp posture, you would have tapped his back to remind him to sit up straight, taken his phone from him while setting it down on the bedside table and told him to sleep.

As it was, he was Donghyuck, not your cousin, so you didn’t have the right to do so. Instead, you snuggled into your bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin until you were nice and warm, shutting your eyes as you said, “G’night, Donghyuck.”

You didn’t see him raise his head and turn to see you, smiling when he realised that you had spoken to him properly for the first time that day. He whispered softly, “G’night,” and put his phone away. He let out a sigh of relief as he flopped onto the bed and fell fast asleep.

YOU QUICKLY SETTLED INTO A ROUTINE at the university. It was easy to do so when each of your days had a set schedule and things for you to do. It was never monotonous, but the structure helped to keep you going and not stop.

In the mornings, you woke up to beverages on the table, which Donghyuck bought for everyone. At first, he hadn’t gotten your order right. He had memorised the others’ orders during the month that they had been roommates before you arrived, but took a couple of times to get what you wanted right.

Coffee from Donghyuck looked something like this: a cup of steaming hot coffee would somehow make its way to the table in the mornings after you came out of the shower, or finished changing your clothes. The coffee was always accompanied by a note. For Renjun, it was a compliment, and it was often about how pretty his eyes were. For Mark, it was either a “you’re so amazing, never forget it”, or a “stupid fool”. There was never an in-between.

And for you?

Well, on the first day, it was a frappuccino with plenty of sprinkles on it, the sugar content so high you were sure it made up for the lack of actual caffeine in it. That gave you a sugar rush so bad you could barely sit still in lectures, knees constantly jiggling under the table.

You knocked over your bottle twice that day and even almost dropped your laptop on the floor because your knee hit the bottom of the table, causing your laptop to slip.

After that, Donghyuck realised sugar wasn’t your thing.

The second day, he went for an espresso that probably had eight shots in it. (It was then accompanied by a pickup line, “do you have a map? cuz i got lost in your eyes”. It was cheesy, but some part of your heart found it cute.) You recognised it as Jaemin’s order, and had laughed to yourself when you realised that Donghyuck wasn’t very good at guessing what you liked.

However, you stopped laughing as soon as you tasted the drink. The espresso was pure caffeine, so black and bitter you wanted to spit out every sip you took of it. You probably would have been better able to stomach a shrimp linguini that you were allergic to than you did the espresso.

That day was pure hell. Your classes didn’t begin until the afternoon, so the day began with a dance class. You missed your bus and had the taste of the espresso in your mouth while you suffered through your dance class. The teacher was strict, which you generally didn’t mind, but that day, it felt like he was out to get you. He corrected you at every turn, and you had every mind to quit.

Afterwards, you realised that you had forgotten to do the pre-reading for your class and had to rush it as you sprinted to the building, only managing to absorb at most a quarter of what you were meant to know.

To make things worse, you had gotten lost three times trying to find the classroom and were late and completely lost for the whole class. You eventually gave up trying to comprehend what was happening, instead leaning over to the seat next to you and asking your classmate to send you his notes.

He was a little confused, but he agreed, and that was how (you thought) you made your first friend outside Jaemin’s friend group.

It later turned out that his name was Jeno, and he was the mutual friend that Renjun had told you about. So he knew both Donghyuck and Jaemin, so all your pride in talking to someone new dissipated faster than the taste of espresso in your mouth.

Since you didn’t really have many other friends besides the “dreamies”, which was what Jaemin’s friend group called themselves, you had no one but them to complain about your terrible day.

Donghyuck learnt his lesson for the next time. The third time, Donghyuck bought you jasmine green tea with boba at 25% percent sugar because he “remembered that you didn’t like the sugar rush the first time”. He had circled the sticker on the cup in red pen so you could see the exact order and had written: without milk, because i'm not sure if you’re lactose intolerant.

You were glad that he had finally caught on and realised that you didn’t like coffee much. While you weren’t the biggest fan of tea, you did enjoy boba and that ended up being the most pleasant beverage out of them all. It was partly because he had considered your possible allergies and remembered your dislike of the frappuccino. But more importantly, you liked it because Donghyuck had put so much effort into trying to find something that you would like instead of simply asking you what you liked like a normal person.

However, even that wasn’t the end of it. Donghyuck could tell from your reaction to the drink that it wasn’t something you were expecting and was dead set on finding out your favourite drink order.

It took about five more tries before he finally found out.

It happened when Mark came to pick you up after your dance class, with Jisung (one of the dreamies) in the passenger seat and Donghyuck in the back seat of the car. You had all but collapsed into the seat, limbs tiredly splayed out across the backseat of the car.

To his credit, Donghyuck hadn’t complained about you taking up space, only shifting so that you could comfortably sprawl across two seats while he sat upright in his. When you stretched and knocked his jaw, he laughed good-naturedly and lowered the middle seat so that you could prop your head up and rest comfortably.

When you woke up, the car was parked in front of a convenience store, and Mark told you that Donghyuck and Jisung had gone to get some ramyeon and other items.

Despite Mark’s protests, you zipped up your jacket and climbed out of the car, intent on getting yourself a box of Nesquik packets to get your energy up after the long day.

You intercepted Donghyuck at the glass doors, dragging him with you as you made your purchase and held it in your hand sheepishly as you followed Jisung back to the car, waving your box of Nesquik packets at Mark in explanation as you entered the car.

Mark nodded knowingly, and as he started driving off, he asked, “You’ll make me a cup too, right?”

You nodded, replying in English. “Of course. That’s what friends are for.”

“Oh, so you’ll make it for me because we’re friends, not because you want to thank me for my driving services?”

“That too,” you shrugged. Donghyuck looked between the two of you, completely lost.

“Can I have a translation, please?” As Mark translated it to Donghyuck, you took note of the words you were unsure of, taking out your phone to note it down. You were too busy trying to catch what Mark said to notice the fond look Donghyuck gave you, mentally noting to help you with Korean when he could.

After that day, Donghyuck always made you hot Nesquik in the evenings, and you grew used to coming home to a hot steamy mug of the delicious beverage.

—

Amidst the busy classes, being with Donghyuck felt like the calmness of the deep waters in the middle of a storm. His presence made the mountain of work piling up feel manageable and made all your stress and worries seem trivial. Donghyuck made everything bearable for you.

Throughout the semester, you constantly had to translate different your pre-reading to English and record your lectures to come back to Mark to ask him for help. Mark probably learnt more from your lectures than you did, but it helped enormously.

Mark was always patient, never growing tired of helping you. When he couldn’t translate something either, you always fell back on good old Google Translate or simply asked the professor yourself.

Some of the professors spoke fluent English, which was a huge help, and most were willing to help you as long as you showed initiative in taking charge of your own learning.

One afternoon, you returned to the dorm with a cinnamon roll in hand and your papers in the other, looking for Mark to help you.

Unfortunately, Mark was away, having been called to help tutor another of his friends. The only one at the dormitory was Donghyuck, who was busy tapping away at his laptop. Disappointed, you turned to leave to find your professor instead when Donghyuck turned, seemingly having a sixth sense for your presence.

“‘Sup,” He nodded at the papers in your hand. “Do you need help with those, or…?”

You nodded sheepishly. “Yeah, I was gonna ask Mark for help, but it seems like he’s not here, so I’m going to find one of my professors instead. Or probably one of the other students, I don’t know.”

Donghyuck waved you over to the desk, and you pulled out a chair and sat down. He hummed as he read through the sheaf of papers before handing them back to you.

“I can’t say I’m very good at English, but I’m sure we could figure it out together. Anyway, we both major in Fine Arts, so it can’t be that hard, right?”

—

That was how you and Donghyuck ended up at the shared desk in your room, huddled over papers as you groaned about terminology. You didn’t understand why dance needed such complicated terminology; if dance teachers could “hm ah one-two” their way through their classes, surely you didn’t need your major to get a job in the industry.

However, Donghyuck refused to let you give up, guiding you through the questions one by one. The pre-reading was especially difficult, but when Donghyuck let you read it aloud and helped you with words you didn’t understand, suddenly, it felt a lot easier.

It helped that the professor had plenty of visual resources, and pictures and videos helped to attract your attention. Whenever there was a video of a certain dance technique you needed to know about, you eagerly clicked on it, grateful for the reprieve it offered from the constant onslaught of words on your screen.

Somehow, just like that, the afternoon passed by rather quickly, with both of you efficiently clearing everything that you needed to by the time Mark returned with takeout for all of you.

Donghyuck reached out to help taking the containers out of the plastic bag, hissing sharply and almost dropping the container on the table. “It’s hot!”

“What were you expecting?” You asked incredulously.

He shrugged. “I thought it would have cooled down on the ride here or something.”

Mark stared at him. “My car’s heated.”

The realisation hit Donghyuck like a truck, and you couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of you at his shocked face. “Right, shit. I forgot about that.”

You were doubled over in laughter, and Renjun had to shake your shoulders roughly to get you to stop. When you could finally stand straight again, you looked Donghyuck in the eyes and snorted.

“You’re pretty dumb for someone who knew all the answers to my homework,” you told him.

“Well, you’re pretty annoying for someone who just got my help for his homework,” he retorted.

You couldn’t argue with that. You made a face, to which Donghyuck made a face back, and you harrumphed and sat down to enjoy your takeout.

You noisily slurped your noodles, some of the sauce splashing on your face. Before you could reach up to wipe it away, Donghyuck reached for your chin, pulled you towards him, and gently wiped your face clean with his thumb.

You froze, caught in his gaze. The two of you stared at each other, Donghyuck raising his eyebrows and smirking, before you finally shook your head free of his grasp and moved back, flustered. You were sure that your face was as red as a tomato, but Donghyuck only laughed.

He laughed like it was nothing, and the careless sound of his laughter mixed with the look on his face made you smile too. You couldn’t help it, his happiness was contagious, and sometimes you found that Donghyuck made your life a lot more bearable.

“I'M BORED.”

Donghyuck was sprawled out on the bed, glasses resting precariously on the tip of his nose (he’d forgotten to wear his night lenses the night before). Next to him, Renjun was sitting on the edge of his bed, studiously texting Chenle. Even Mark, the most disciplined of you all, wasn’t doing work.

The room smelled of dirty clothes and… Chinese takeout? You cast a glance over at the coffee table that you ate at, and realised that there were still empty takeout containers on the table. You quickly went to throw them away, scrunching your nose in disgust at the sheer amount of hoodies piled up on bags, the backs of the chairs, and generally strewn about messily.

“Yah, Donghyuck, come and clean up your mess.”

Donghyuck looked over at your annoyed face and quickly got up, obediently putting his clothes away and throwing the dirty ones into the hamper.

“I’m going to bring these to the laundromat, why don’t you call the others over and we’ll have a pizza party? I don’t think any of us is in the mood to do work now.”

Donghyuck nodded eagerly. “Let’s do it. Y/n, what pizza would you like?”

“Jaemin knows. Just get whatever the majority wants and we’ll share.”

“Sounds good,” Mark chimed in. “And, Y/n, can you bring this too?” He handed you a bag full of dirty clothes and you shifted the hamper over to one side so you could handle both, and Renjun helped you with the door as you shuffled out.

—

When you came back, Jaemin informed you that he had ordered pepperoni for you, since Jeno wanted some meat, and Donghyuck had gotten Hawaiian and four-cheese for the others. They had bought the largest size, so hopefully it would be enough for all of you.

When the pizza came, everyone dove in with renewed energy, the lethargic boys coming back to life as they scarfed down the food. Donghyuck reached out to take a slice of your pizza, withdrawing when he realised that there were olives on it.

“What, you don’t like—what’s the word?” You asked.

“Olives?” Mark supplied.

“Yeah, olives?”

“Nah,” Donghyuck replied. “‘M not a fan.” Yet his face betrayed him, and you could see the longing in his eyes as he watched you eat your pizza, looking down sadly at his own.

“Do you want to trade? You can pass me the olives from the pepperoni, and I’ll take your Hawaiian as long as you keep the pineapples.”

“You don’t like pineapples?” Donghyuck asked, scandalised.

“Of course not, who does?” You looked at Jaemin. “Come on, Jaem, back me up on this. Besides, fruit on pizza is such a strange concept.”

“Tomato’s a fruit,” Jisung pointed out, mouth full.

You frowned. “Don’t talk with your mouth open. But okay, fair point, I concede. Fruit on pizza isn’t weird, just pineapple on pizza.”

“Hey!” You threw Donghyuck a triumphant grin, handing him a slice of pizza with the olives plucked off, heaped on your plate. There was oil dripping from your hands and mouth, so you wiped your chin with the back of your hand and got up to wash your hands.

“Don’t touch my pizza,” you warned.

Renjun mock-gasped. “How scary!” When you glared at him, he quickly corrected himself, “Oh, I meant, ‘wouldn’t dream of it!’”, to which you nodded approvingly in response.

—

You returned to your seat only to find Donghyuck had started a new, heated discussion, and everyone was participating actively, except for Jeno, who looked content with stuffing his mouth and just listening.

“I think it’s fine if they separate the leaves, it’s just weird if they do it while giggling and giving each other flirtatious looks,” Chenle was saying.

“But there’s no other reason to do that than to flirt!” Donghyuck cried out.

“What’s going on?” Renjun, bless his soul, explained the perilla debate to you while Donghyuck and Chenle went at each other’s throats. It turned out that the perilla debate was very simple: if your significant other helped to separate the pesky perilla leaves for your close friend to eat, was that acceptable?

You cocked your head in confusion. That was a topic up for debate? It was simple enough to leave people alone to eat, especially if they were both people you knew and trusted. If you could bring them out to eat together, what was the reason for you to prevent interaction between them? If you were that sensitive, you might as well not have invited them to eat at the same meal.

You voiced out your thoughts, but Donghyuck wasn’t having it. “It’s just dumb. Why was your significant other paying attention to the friend? They should be paying attention to you!”

You gave him a hard look. “Seriously? It’s not like you can forbid interaction between two people you love. You just think it’s weird because you’re an outrageous flirt, and in those circumstances, you would definitely be doing it with an ulterior motive.”

Chenle and Mark nodded in unison. “Face it, Hyuck, your opinion is just wrong.”

Donghyuck pouted and turned his back to you all, furiously opening up the food app on his phone and tapping away.

Jeno leaned over his shoulder to take a peek and began laughing uncontrollably, almost choking on the food in his mouth. “He’s ordering a dish with perilla leaves on it to prove his point!”

The entire room burst out into laughter, and you were so loud you heard a knocking on the door as someone told you to “shut the hell up, it’s already 10pm and some people want peace and silence.”

Subdued, the laughter died out, but wide grins remained on your faces as you watched Donghyuck in amusement, intent on proving his point and unwilling to give up until he had showed you all.

The food arrived faster than you had expected, and Donghyuck ran to the door to receive it, laying out the bowl and showing everyone the perilla leaves.

He handed Jaemin a pair of chopsticks and pointed to the dish. “Okay, Jaemin, you’re going to pretend that you can’t pick up the perilla leaves, and then I’ll swoop in and save the day.”

Jaemin immediately shook his head, vigorously expressing his disagreement. “I’m not getting dragged into this stupid shit. Jisung, take the chopsticks.”

Jisung crossed his hands over his chest, waving away the chopsticks. “Why don’t you pass it to Y/n? He’s the one who started this whole thing, after all.”

You were shoved into the seat opposite Donghyuck, a defeated sigh leaving your lips as you took the chopsticks and tried to pick up the perilla leaves with your chopsticks. You didn’t even have to fake a failed attempt to pick it up; your chopstick skills had never been good, so no matter how you tried, you couldn’t pick it up.

Seeing your genuine struggle, Donghyuck took the chance to expertly pick up the leaves and separated one piece from the rest (show-off). “Ahh,” he said, and you opened your mouth instinctively.

“Is it good?” He asked sweetly, and you nodded dumbly. It was actually pretty good, but you didn’t know why. You had never liked perilla leaves much, but maybe the way Donghyuck was looking at you or the pressurising gaze on your back made it taste a lot better than you used to think it did.

“That’s good, Y/n-ah.” He reached over to brush your hair out of your face, but it just flopped back down in front of your eyes again. He giggled, and that was your breaking point, and you broke out of character, laughing into your palm as Donghyuck shrugged as if to say, See? “I told you, it’s an intimate gesture!”

You shook your head exasperatedly. “If you say so, Lee Donghyuck.”

You went back to eating, peeling off the ham and cheese from your pizza to save for later. It was your favourite part of the pizza, so you didn’t want to waste it.

“Y/n…” Chenle’s warning tone made you look up in fear.

“Yes?”

“What in the world are you doing?”

“I just like ham and cheese,” you replied defensively. “Is there something wrong with that?”

Chenle shook his head exasperatedly. “No, just- that’s the weirdest way of eating pizza I’ve ever seen.”

“Well,” you said, licking your fingers clean, “Jaemin used to separate the gummies into flavours and pass me all the strawberry ones when he was little because he hates strawberries, so you should give me a pass for this one.”

While Jaemin tried to defend himself against your sudden jab at him, Jeno set up his computer on the table and waved everyone who was done eating over onto the bed, using his mini projector (he was a film major) to project his screen on the wall.

“What do y’all want to watch?”

“All of us are dead,” Renjun said without hesitation. You and Jisung looked at each other nervously, not being lovers of horror movies and especially hesitant because of the zombies in the series. However, you were outnumbered 6 to 2, so you settled in under the blanket and drew it up to your eyes, prepared to scream if anything scary happened.

Jisung didn’t join you, probably to hang onto whatever shreds of fragile masculinity he still had. You had thrown away all of yours because it wasn’t like you could control your fear anyway. You preferred to scream in comfort, thank you very much.

The episode started out surprisingly tame, so you lowered the blanket and leaned forward to get a better look.

Donghyuck let out a little “oof” when you rested your chin on his shoulder, but only scooted backwards so you could have a better view.

You were just starting to get absorbed in the story, thinking that maybe it wasn’t so bad after all, when one of the girls was turned into a zombie.

“Fuck!” You screamed, leaping back as the girl’s neck cracked at an unnatural angle, blood dripping from her nostrils and mouth. You cowered under the blanket that you had hurriedly pulled over your head, shuddering in fear with your hands clasped tightly over your ears.

You were still trembling when you finally decided to peek out from under the blanket, meeting Mark’s and Donghyuck’s concerned eyes with a reassuring smile.

“I'm all right, y’all. Just surprised.”

Mark snorted. As if. But he didn’t challenge you, instead asking, “Why the hell do you know fuck in Korean and not ‘delivery service’? One of them is clearly more commonly used than the other.”

“Yeah, and that’s fuck. I think you forgot that we’re all still teenage guys and male youths. Swearing is part of our vocabulary.”

“Fair enough,” Mark conceded.

Donghyuck, on the other hand, came closer to you, back pressed to the wall as he rubbed your back comfortingly. “Do you want to watch something else?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s alright. It’s actually interesting, I just get grossed out.”

Donghyuck nodded in understanding. “I'll sit beside you, and when the scary scenes show up, I'll cover your ears so you can pull the blanket over yourself. Sounds good?”

You nodded.

The episode continued, and you successfully made it three entire episodes before you got another jumpscare, and Donghyuck did as he had promised, wrapping your head tightly in a hug so you couldn't hear a single thing.

He squealed, “cute!” when you were scared and hugged you tightly. He covered your view so well you didn’t even need the blanket to hide the scene from yourself.

Donghyuck ended up hugging you for the rest of the night, and you leaned your head on his shoulder and squeezed his hands extra tightly whenever something happened, shutting your eyes when you heard any crunching sound.

Just like that, you made it through one season of “All of Us are Dead”, falling asleep past midnight with your only friends in university in your room, with someone by your side embracing you as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

—

While you were asleep, the others cleaned up the mess that they had made, throwing out the empty pizza boxes and takeout utensils, wiping the table clean and moving all clothes to one side.

The dreamies from the other room left after bidding Mark, Renjun and Donghyuck goodnight, while the remaining three in your room took turns showering in the toilet.

When Donghyuck, the last of the three, came out of the toilet towelling his hair dry, he realised that you were lying across two beds, blanket kicked off your feet.

He hung his towel up and went over to you, sighing as he placed his hands under you and tried to lift you up.

However, he forgot that you were both taller and bulkier than him, and staggered back when he tried to carry you. He rested his hands on his hips, staring down at you as the gears whirred in his mind, trying to figure out a way to move you.

Mark’s eyes flitted open, and he had a clear view of you and Donghyuck from his bed. He saw Donghyuck struggling but chose not to say a thing, waiting patiently for Donghyuck to make another move.

With a soft groan, Donghyuck hefted you into his arms and staggered around the bed before dropping you back down, in the correct position that time, on the right bed.

Luckily, you were fast asleep, so you didn’t wake up. Mark reached over to Renjun’s bed and nudged him awake, whispering, “Bet you 10,000 won that when they end up together, Donghyuck will kiss Y/n first.”

Confusion flashed over Renjun’s face before he understood. He hadn’t realised that Donghyuck was clearly interested in you, hadn’t even known that he was interested in males until Mark pointed it out. But once it had been brought to his attention, it seemed as if it had been clear all along.

“He’ll never confess aloud, I bet Y/n will have to make the first move,” Renjun countered.

“We’ll see,” Mark said. Renjun agreed, and soon the room fell silent as all four occupants drifted off into dreamland.

THE NEXT DAY WAS A SATURDAY, so everyone woke up late. By the time you opened your eyes, it was 9am, and you were the second one up. The bed beside you was Donghyuck’s, and it was empty.

Donghyuck didn’t seem like a morning person to you, so you were surprised that he had left the dormitory room so early in the morning. You blinked tiredly, hauling yourself out of bed to get breakfast. The sound of you rummaging through the mini-fridge for food must have been quite loud, because Mark woke up and stared blankly at you, eyelids drooping sleepily.

“What’re you doing?” He mumbled.

“Looking for ingredients to make breakfast with. We only have ramyeon, but I’m pretty sick of that.”

“Hyuck works at his mom’s bakery on weekends, there’s probably food there. If you’re hungry, just head over and get food from him. He’ll know what we like, and you can buy whatever you want.” With that, Mark fell back asleep before you could ask him to tell you the address.

Just then, a yellow-coloured post-it on the table caught your eye and you went over to take a look. It said in neat handwriting, “y/n, i’ve left for work. if you want to come over to café 127, you can study there and we can take the bus back to the dorms afterwards. it’s pretty close by,” and the address, signed with “yours, hyuck.”

“Huh,” you said, tucking the note into your pocket after looking up what bus to take to get there. It was only a couple of stops away, awfully convenient, and you weren’t going to give up the chance to study.

You changed into presentable clothes, grabbing a coat and your wallet before heading out of the door.

—

The café was bigger than you had expected. It was really close to the university, and located on the streets, so you couldn't possibly miss it. You loitered outside the café for a bit, debating whether to go in.

A flash of movement caught your eye, and you saw Donghyuck flitting about, taking customers’ orders.

Inhaling deeply, you squashed your nerves and calmed yourself down, going inside.

The café smelt like… Donghyuck, oddly enough. It smelt like vanilla essence and chocolate chips, and the same scent of perfume that Donghyuck probably used. You must have unconsciously associated the scent of Donghyuck with home, because entering the café felt like coming home to warmth after a long, cold day.

You grinned at Donghyuck and waved at him, taking a seat by the window. You placed your bag on the seat and went to buy yourself something, queueing in line behind two other people.

When it was your turn, your gaze flickered downwards, darting over the black, dapper uniform Donghyuck was wearing. The simple apron that bore a golden-brown logo on the right side wouldn’t have looked half as good on anyone else, not that you would admit it.

“Morning, Hyuck. I’d like…” your voice trailed off as you realised you didn’t even know what they sold. You peered into the display case, seeing fudge brownies and cinnamon rolls for sale.

Donghyuck’s mother bustled past, giving Donghyuck a few orders when she caught sight of you, stopping short in her tracks with a delighted gasp.

“You’re such a handsome man,” she told you. “You look like a prince!”

“Mum,” Donghyuck whined. “He’s my friend, you’re embarrassing me.”

Donghyuck’s mother laughed, and her mannerisms were exactly like Donghyuck’s. Her face crinkled up and her eyes disappeared into a line, and even the sound of her laughter was exactly like her son’s. Mama’s boy, you thought to yourself.

“Silly boy, of course you’re handsome too. After all, you are my son.” At that, even you broke into laughter. That must have been where Donghyuck got his confidence from. Donghyuck rolled his eyes and asked you to get on with your order.

“I’d like a cinnamon roll, please,” you decided, and paid for it.

“You just like cinnamon rolls because you're basic,” Donghyuck teased, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“And what about it?”

Donghyuck raised both his eyebrows at your defensive tone, but he didn’t take the bait, instead handing you your change and order. “Have a nice day, prince.”

You shot him a confused look, then realised he was teasing you for what his mother had said about you. “You too, pretty boy.”

It was good that you had turned around so you couldn’t see how furiously Donghyuck blushed when you said that.

—

You wouldn't have realised that it was past noon if Donghyuck hadn’t tapped your shoulder, wrenching you out of your focused state and drawing you back into reality.

In his hands, he was clutching a muffin, which he placed in front of you along with a mug full of steaming Nesquik. “Eat first, don't be so concerned about your work,” he chided, and you rolled your eyes but thanked him anyway.

When you gratefully bit into the muffin, you felt melted cheese oozing out of it, and you pulled it away from your mouth, staring at it in amazement. You took your time, savouring every bite of the muffin. It was still warm from the oven and tasted heavenly.

You spotted a few pieces of ham inside the muffin, and realised that it was a ham-and-cheese muffin! You hadn’t seen that in the display case earlier, so perhaps Donghyuck had baked it himself.

You made a mental note to ask him about it later, returning to your work with a full stomach and heart.

—

As you got up to leave, collecting your mug and the plate to return to Donghyuck for them to wash, you realised that there was a little sticky note on the other side of the mug.

It read, "for my prince. study hard <3", and you couldn’t help the blush creeping across your cheeks. You felt your face heat up as the corners of your lips lifted up into a smile. He’s so stupidly pretty.

—

Donghyuck came home smelling like pancake batter and cinnamon rolls, which was enough to confirm that you were down horrendous for him.

When he slipped into bed, his voice was slightly husky from talking the whole day as he took down orders. “Good night, Y/n.”

Instead of answering, you rolled over to face him, asking, “Do you think I'm handsome?”

Donghyuck hesitated for only a second, but it was enough to make you nervous. Why didn’t he want to respond? Was it because he didn’t like you, or something else? Your mind conjured up endless unreasonable questions, almost going crazy with the silence that was thick with tension.

“I think you're attractive, definitely. Why, are you feeling insecure?” He asked. “I hope you know that when I saw you at the airport, my first thought was ‘Shit, my position as the visual in the group is being compromised.’ I don't think you have anything to worry about.”

You were still dissatisfied, so Donghyuck approached you as if to inspect your face, and pointed at his eyes. “I'm wearing my night lenses now, so I have 20/20 vision, and as a self-proclaimed expert, I declare you a ten out of ten. Happy?”

You laughed softly. “Yes, Hyuck. Thank you.”

Donghyuck permitted himself a small smile, reaching out to ruffle your hair. “Silly prince. Now can you go to sleep?”

You nodded. “Night, pretty boy.”

The answer came almost immediately. “Goodnight, my prince.”

IT ALL WENT DOWNHILL FROM THERE.

Ever since the realisation that maybe, just maybe, you liked Donghyuck (just a little bit), everything had gone downhill. You couldn’t do a single thing without Donghyuck at the back of your mind. If you so much as walked beside him, your mind went crazy with thoughts of him brushing his arm against yours intentionally, how close you could walk next to him without being too obvious about it, how beautiful he was when he laughed or made a joke that no one laughed at.

Your mind just couldn’t shut up. Yes, you understood that you had a silly little crush. Yes, you knew that Donghyuck was gorgeous. Yes, you were one of his best friends and therefore, saw him relatively often. No, that did not mean you needed him to occupy every. Single. One of your thoughts. You were perfectly fine without the presence of Donghyuck in every crevice of your mind, thank you very much.

However, your subconscious disagreed, and continued to torture you with thoughts of Donghyuck kissing you or brushing your hair out of your face. It was too much for you to take, especially when Donghyuck seemed oblivious to the effect he had on you.

At present, his face was slightly flushed, and sweat was beading on his forehead. He was clearly tipsy, swaying on his feet as he leaned on Renjun’s shoulder. He took Renjun’s chin and turned it towards himself, as if to kiss him.

Renjun tore himself away from Donghyuck so quickly that Donghyuck should have gotten whiplash, disgust evident on his face. “Argh, don’t kiss me!”

You felt the green monster slowly loosen its grip on your throat, slinking back in shame as you breathed in heavily. What was wrong with you? There was no reason for you to be jealous. Donghyuck was just like that, he flirted with anything that had a pulse and couldn’t confront his feelings. You knew it, and yet you didn’t want to accept it.

Stinging from his rejection and very much drunk after all the alcohol he had drunk, Donghyuck was even whinier than usual, if that was possible.

He leaned on Mark’s shoulder, and soon it became a game of “Pass the Donghyuck”, and he was shifted from one shoulder to another until he had made one round from Mark’s shoulder all the way to yours.

The weight of his head on your shoulder was refreshing. It felt like you could finally think, and the fog of your crush had lifted just enough for you to realise that the Lee Donghyuck was drunk and clinging onto your shoulder.

His glasses were slipping down his nose, and you wondered why he had even worn it in the first place. You reached up to take it off, but he shook his head vigorously. “Can’t… see without ‘em. Everything’s so… blurry.” He heaved and you stepped back quickly, afraid that he would puke all over you, but he only stumbled into your arms.

You caught him, breathing out a sigh of relief. The club was terrifyingly loud and you wanted to go home.

Empty bottles littered the counter, shot glasses teetering dangerously close to the edge. You pushed the glasses in and one toppled, and you clumsily reached out to catch it before it fell, but missed. Luckily, Mark was still sober and his reflexes were fast enough for him to catch it when it rolled off the table, falling straight into his hand like that had been its trajectory all along.

Your limbs felt as heavy as lead, a feeling not unfamiliar to you. It always felt like that after a long, tiring day of dance lessons. But the feeling was somehow… different. It felt like you had lost control of yourself and it scared you. You didn’t want to lose consciousness.

“Mark,” you called, too soft for him to hear. You were tired and it took almost all of your energy to call him again, louder that time. “Mark!”

Mark turned and his smile dropped when he saw Donghyuck and you, so drunk you might’ve passed out if it weren’t for the adrenaline rushing through your veins. You felt like you were in a limbo, halfway between wide awake and unconscious, too drunk to comprehend anything but also too excited to go to sleep.

“I want to leave this place. And I think- I think Hyuck should go home too.”

Mark looked around anxiously for the others. Jaemin was sitting in a corner of the room, clearly feeling out of place. The club was too loud for both of you. At least Chenle, Jisung, Renjun and Jeno looked like they were having fun dancing, but you remembered Renjun had looked more at home when Donghyuck was leading the conversation.

Everyone wanted to go home. You were a lightweight, and Donghyuck had simply let loose and gone crazy on the vodka, but it was enough. You needed to leave, and you recognised that. It was past 3am on a Sunday night, and you all had to go home before your classes the next morning.

Mark went to collect the rest of the dreamies, and when Chenle tried to make a fuss, Mark whispered something in his ear that pleased him greatly. Without further protest, soon all the dreamies were gathered where you were and you could leave.

You all had trouble getting out of the bar, let alone getting into the car. You, Jisung and Donghyuck were stumbling like drunkards, relying on the support of your friends to get you to walk. Jaemin held on to you tightly, gripping your elbow so hard you thought it might leave marks.

His lips were pressed into a thin line, annoyed that you had drunk so much even though your alcohol tolerance was low. It was like you were children again, and you were playing video games late into the night even though you had school the day after.

Yet, even after all those years of you making stupid decisions, he was still there for you when you came crashing down. Maybe you really were his favourite cousin, after all.

The designated drivers, Jaemin and Mark, brought three passengers into each car. You and Donghyuck were meant to be split up so there were more eyes to look after each of you, but Donghyuck grabbed hold of your wrist and refused to let go.

Jaemin let out a sigh. “Jeno, you go with them.” He was the third least intoxicated and among the strongest in your group, so he had a higher chance of being able to handle the two of you.

Jeno guided you into the seat, where you collapsed, finally making yourself comfortable. You removed your coat and draped it on the head rest, while Donghyuck snuggled into your lap.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

Donghyuck nodded. “Has anyone told you you’re really pretty?”

You laughed. “Yeah, your mum.” Donghyuck cringed, and you quickly clarified. “Donghyuck, your mother literally told me I look like a prince. I’m sorry, but you can’t top that, though I’ll give you extra points because you look cute when you’re drunk.”

Donghyuck let out a little giggle and snuggled into you. You’d forgotten how clingy he got when he was drunk. “Life is so tiring,” he told you matter-of-factly.

“I agree.” Your eyes shut and you leaned your head back, the muscles in your back relaxing.

“Shh,” Donghyuck stopped you, pressing one finger to your cheek. You assumed that he had meant to silence you and placed it against your lips, but he was so drunk that his hand-eye coordination wasn’t the best. “Don’t interrupt.”

You snorted, amused.

“As I was saying, life is really tiring. It’s tiring being this handsome, it’s tiring having a crush on my roommate and not being able to confess it because I’m a coward, it’s tiring having to work instead of staying home, and it’s tiring pretending that I’m perfect.”

“What was the middle one?”

“It’s tiring having to work?”

You raised your eyebrows sceptically. That wasn’t what you had meant, and he knew it. Sure, you were drunk and could have imagined it, but you were pretty sure Donghyuck had just confessed that he liked one of you. And since he only had three roommates, you had a 33.3% chance of being the one he liked.

The odds were good, but not entirely in your favour.

Donghyuck’s forehead was sweaty and his hair was sticking to his face, so you gently brushed it out of his face, and he gripped your wrist so tightly you questioned if he was indeed drunk. If he were sober surely he wouldn’t have had that strength, but he definitely had the guts when he was tipsy.

He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, and your heart shattered inside.

Honestly, you would have been happy if he was sober. Perhaps then everything would be truthful and genuine and not the manifestation of sober thoughts, but a conscious choice. Because drunk decisions did not mean that Donghyuck would have done the same if he had been sober. You knew that he probably would not have, and that hurt deeper than you would care to admit.

Donghyuck was so oblivious to the effect he had on you. He could be making you go crazy inwardly and not care, but the moment he was drunk, he had the audacity to flirt with you. He had no care for your feelings at all, and you hated it.

If only he would really, truly love you, consciously and deliberately so you would never have to reassure your insecure thoughts. And that was something that you hated Donghyuck for, that he never wanted to commit and instead flirted with everyone like that would make him feel any better.

It wouldn’t, and you knew that all too well.

—

“Spin the bottle! Spin the bottle!”

You, as well as the others, were eagerly chanting as Donghyuck looked sceptically at the bottle. The table surface was rough, and the sound of the bottle spinning grated on his nerves, but he wanted to be a good sport.

He spun the bottle, biting his lip as he rolled his eyes back, and they landed on you. You could have sworn he winked, but you had no time to process it, not when your friends were cheering so loudly.

Shit. It had landed on you.

Donghyuck didn’t hesitate, leaning in towards you and tipping your chin up. He saw the reluctance in your eyes and stopped, resting on his heels.

“Are you okay with this? If you don't want to, we can stop it now,” he said, loud enough for your ears alone.

You gulped. “I'm… I think I'm fine.”

He grinned. “Then kiss me back, okay?”

And his lips were on yours. He tasted like cherry vodka and sprite and cinnamon all at once, and you didn’t know you had it in you to kiss him back.

When he pulled away, you missed it almost immediately.

“This isn’t any fun. Let’s play truth or dare instead,” he said abruptly, averting his eyes. Unlike when he had kissed Renjun, he didn't wipe his lips, and it took all of your self-control not to read into that.

You made yourself comfortable and reached for another glass but Jisung tapped your hand twice. “I think you’ve had quite enough.”

The thing was, you couldn't help it. If you didn’t have enough alcohol in your system, you would have the sobriety to overthink every single little thing Donghyuck did, and you needed a drink (or several) to remain sane.

Jisung gave you a long, hard look and an accompanying sigh when you brushed him off, but he remained silent when you poured yourself another glass and downed it, the clear liquid burning its way down your throat and lighting you up from within.

“Truth,” you heard Donghyuck say.

“Do you love him? Not just infatuation-wise. Do you see yourself in a relationship with him?” Mark.

“Dare.”

“Answer the question.”

“I-” The hesitation was enough for you to be interested in the conversation again. If Donghyuck had given his usual lighthearted response, you would have thought nothing of it. But for him to stop and actually seriously think about it… whoever he liked must have really made an impact on him.

You reached for the bottle again. This time, it was Jeno who stopped you. “It’s quite enough. Your cheeks are red, and you can barely keep your eyes open. I don't want you to get liver failure from one night out, or we’ll never be allowed to bring you out again.”

You pouted your lips at him, and Donghyuck spoke again. “Yes, I think I do.”

It was a pity that you had forgotten the question by then. It was also a pity that your eyes were barely open, for if they were open you would have seen Donghyuck’s fond look and how his eyes crinkled up when he looked at you.

—

When Mark turned around to get you out of the car, he found both you and Donghyuck asleep.

YOU JUST COULDN'T ESCAPE HIM. It wasn’t until you were consciously avoiding Donghyuck that you realised how often you saw him. Your dance classes never collided, but many of your lectures did. Sometimes, you would see him entering the lecture theatre and would studiously look away so he wouldn’t notice you were there. Not that it worked much, but on some days, he was a little more aware and would walk past you to sit with his other friends.

You were in the library that afternoon, headphones in, Mark and Renjun sitting opposite you. Everyone was quietly doing their own work, and whenever you looked up from your work, it was only to ask Mark a question.

Renjun was actually done with his own work, because unlike Mark, who always volunteered to take on extra tasks, he had a perfectly reasonable workload. And unlike Donghyuck, who signed up for social events even when his pre-reading was piling up, he was disciplined and knew how to prioritise. And unlike you, he actually understood everything that the professor was saying.

So, really he was only there to keep you two accountable and to make sure you didn’t get off track. He was reading a book, and you guessed that the unfamiliar characters on the cover were in Mandarin.

It was peaceful, at least until Donghyuck came.

“I brought you a ham-and-cheese muffin,” he said, setting the paper bag down as he slid into the seat beside you. “I got you boba too, but the librarian didn’t like that, so I left it in my bag outside. I had to convince her that I wouldn’t eat the muffin inside, but I’ll let you know that it’s still warm, so you can make your own decision.”

He winked at you, and your heart fluttered. Be still, my heart.

You bit into the muffin, and the flavours exploded in your mouth as you realised how long it had been since your last meal. You hadn’t had proper lunch that day, just brunch at 10, so 6 hours had passed since you last ate. You had forgotten this whilst studying, but your stomach gladly welcomed the presence of more food.

“You haven’t eaten since brunch, have you?” Donghyuck asked, as he saw you stuffing the rest of the muffin into your mouth. You shook your head guiltily, trying to catch the crumbs falling from your mouth.

“Chew slowly, don't choke. I’ve still got boba for you later, remember.”

And your heart warmed despite your vow not to let Donghyuck charm his way into your heart anymore. “Thanks,” you mumbled, voice muffled by the food in your mouth. You swallowed it quickly, but by then he had already turned away from you.

—

“Wait, don't you have a class in five minutes?”

It took you a couple of seconds to process that Mark was talking to you. You looked down at your watch and found that he was indeed correct. “Shit, yeah. Hyuck, isn’t that the class we both take?”

Donghyuck’s neck jerked up so quickly you feared he might break it. “You're right! We’ve gotta run for it. See you later, Mark, Renjun.”

He was out of his chair before you could say anything else, pulling you away as you ran outside. Donghyuck slung his bag over his shoulder, and you ran out into the cold with Donghyuck by your side. It was freezing cold and your lips turned numb almost immediately. The snow was heavier than you had realised, and you sorely missed the comfort of the heated library.

You were huddled closely to Donghyuck, pressed up against him as your legs moved in tandem, generating heat that you were grateful for.

“Wait,” you said, grabbing Donghyuck’s hand to stop him just before you entered the building. “Look!”

Like a child, you stuck out your tongue and waited for a snowflake to fall onto your tongue, shivering slightly when it did and melted almost immediately. You looked at Donghyuck, embarrassment warring with the need for attention, and were met with Donghyuck’s chuckle.

“Cute.”

It was one word, but it felt full of fraught emotions and possibilities.

—

You sighed in relief, collapsing in a tired heap on the chair, your cheeks and the tips of your ears still red from the cold atmosphere outside. Donghyuck noticed, of course. He reached out and cupped your ear in his hands, his palms radiating heat that made your ears feel less like frozen popsicles and more like a part of your body again.

“If I kissed you, your cheeks would definitely warm up too,” he said suddenly. You would have protested, but you weren’t fast enough to prevent him from placing a kiss on your cheek, which immediately warmed up in embarrassment.

“See! It worked.” You didn’t admit it aloud, but you agreed.

Donghyuck’s kiss was a reminder of what you had been thinking when you first arrived in Seoul. You had thought then that Seoul was nowhere as romantic as London, because you couldn't share an umbrella with your love interest in the rain and get soaked together.

But when you looked down at your coat, slightly wet with melted snow, and pressed a hand to your cheek where Donghyuck had kissed it, you realised that maybe Seoul was more romantic than you had given it credit for being. You had been too quick to judge and were lucky that you hadn’t said it aloud, or you would be eating your words.

—

You were starting to get bored and your fingers hurt from typing. At least you understood most of what was happening, but you were still starting to tire of the professor’s voice. The next time you would be doing anything interesting was in a month, and you didn’t understand how you were expected to pay attention until then.

You were really only paying attention so that you didn’t fail when you had to write your thesis next week, but even you needed a break.

Donghyuck must have read your mind because he pushed a reusable covered cup over to your table, pointing at the attached note. Through the clear container you could see the boba at the bottom, brown sugar coating the sides. You poked the straw through the hole in the cap and gratefully drank it, happy for the explosive taste of sugar in your mouth that distracted you from the boredom of the class.

A note fluttered onto your table and you picked it up in curiosity. “are you a prince (왕자; wangja)? because i want ya.”

That was when your heart stopped. Donghyuck didn’t speak English well, and you knew that. You had spent enough time with him to see how he struggled to understand you when you spoke with an English accent instead of a Korean one. Yet, he had written you a pickup line in Konglish.

What does that mean? He had to have asked Mark about it. He must have premeditated it because there was no way he had spontaneously come up with that while waiting in line for your drink.

What does that mean? The mixed signals he was sending you were about to drive you crazy. You were overthinking every detail of it, and you hated it. Why had he put in the effort to write something you were familiar with? A line you would understand and be able to laugh at? Was he hinting at something more, or did he just do that to everyone?

What does that mean? The question was running laps in your mind, as it had been since Donghyuck had kissed you at the bar. You had both been flat-out drunk, so you wouldn’t have been surprised, but he didn’t seem to want to talk about it.

Maybe that was the problem; the lack of communication. It was hindering the relationship from progressing and causing your heart extreme emotional pain. Perhaps it was time for you to do something about it.

DONGHYUCK WAS THE WORST TEASE YOU KNEW. He exited the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, hair still dripping wet as he ran a hand absently through it, wiping his hand on the towel.

Your heart was beating so fast that you were sure you would need someone to call an ambulance if you didn’t stop hyperventilating.

Fortunately (or unfortunately) for you, Donghyuck seemed to notice.

He walked up to you in one fluid motion, wrapping one arm around your waist as his other hand tipped your chin up. His cockiness was getting to you, and you simply couldn’t stand him anymore. You threaded your fingers through his hair, bringing his face closer to you as you kissed him.

The hand around your waist slackened in shock, and his eyes were still wide with surprise at your boldness. But you didn’t care, and when you didn’t pull away, he gladly closed his eyes and deepened the kiss.

Your clothes were wet, and so was the floor, but you couldn’t care less because you were kissing the Lee Donghyuck, prettiest boy in the universe. The one who spent a week trying to get your beverage order right and clung tightly to you when he was drunk, the one who took every opportunity to flirt with you but softened when you were scared or tired.

He called you a prince just to rile you up and pecked your cheek when you were within range, and you loved him more than just a little bit.

“You like me?” Donghyuck asked in disbelief when you pulled away.

You traced your hand over his jaw and pressed your forehead to his. “I hate pineapple on pizza, but I’d eat Hawaiian pizza if you asked me to because you’re Donghyuck, and I’d do anything for you. I would eat your olives if you gave them to me, always. I don’t know how you haven’t noticed yet, but yes, I like you, Lee Donghyuck.”

He was rendered speechless, which were two words you would never have thought would be used to describe Donghyuck. The chatty boy had fallen silent, and you found that you missed the sound of his voice.

“I like you too, L/n Y/n. I would run with you in the snow if it meant five more minutes with you. Even if my fingertips were freezing off, I would watch you catch snowflakes on your tongue and wish you loved me back. I would kiss you while drunk a million times if it meant there was the smallest of chances that you would love me back.”

The sound of the door opening didn’t stop you, but it did stop Renjun. He hovered in the corridor as he looked between you and a towel-clad Donghyuck, debating whether to tell him to stop dripping all over the floor or leave you two alone. After a few seconds, he decided to take refuge in Jaemin’s room, leaving you two to your own devices.

Donghyuck would have stayed and held you in his arms forever if you hadn’t tapped his shoulder and asked him to get changed.

“Why feign decency at this point?” He had quipped, and you had grabbed hold of his shoulders, turning him around to face the bathroom and shoving him towards it. He had stumbled, catching himself just in time to flip you off, and you settled on the floor, laughing as he disappeared into the bathroom.

—

When he reappeared, he was so eager to see you again that he slammed into you, causing you to topple onto the bed, Donghyuck’s hands on either side of your head being the only thing preventing him from falling onto you,

You booped him on the nose and burst out into laughter at his confused face. Your laughter rang true and clear in the room, and if Donghyuck had a photographic memory, he would have replayed it in his head a million times. His eyes were filled with delight and love as he watched you slowly lowering himself next to you while you rolled over to face him.

His hand traced lazy circles down your arms, from your biceps down to your elbows, where he began drawing hearts around the scattered scars that covered your elbows.

“Tell me all about your scars.”

You had gotten that one from falling down as a kid, eager legs slipping out from under you when you forgot that you had rollerblades on, landing on your elbows and knees. Sure, you had worn elbow guards, but they had been too loose for you back then, the hand-me-downs slipping downwards as your elbows scraped against the pavement.

You remembered staring at your arms in wonder, the scraped skin stinging but not hurting enough for you to cry. You had winced at the dirt and blood covering the wound, dusting yourself off as you stood up. You had cried when your mother cleaned the wound with saline, wincing sharply and then jerking your arms away while she held tight, cleansing the wound, until you realised she was only trying to help you.

Perhaps that was what love was like. Sometimes, you didn’t realise it was for your benefit until someone else guided you to it, and you ignored what was staring right at you until it waved its hand.

Donghyuck listened. He didn’t speak, and the silence was oddly inviting. The words spilled out of your mouth like a torrent, not a second of hesitation keeping you from being vulnerable with him.

It was the same for Donghyuck.

You heard of the times he felt overshadowed and overlooked, when his older brother knew how to do everything and his younger sister followed in his footsteps. He constantly compared himself to them and others around him, never feeling like he was enough.

You heard of the times with Mark, his first friend, who used to hate him. Donghyuck had reached out multiple times to Mark, and each time he was met with coldness and annoyance. He had only ever heard Mark give monosyllabic responses and had been surprised when he had first heard Mark say a full sentence.

Yet, Donghyuck could grow on anyone. And soon, they graduated high school together, headed to the same university where they would pursue their interests while their friendship only grew stronger.

You heard about Donghyuck’s experience at parties, waking up in somebody else’s bed, hammered with a pounding headache and utterly lost. He told you how he had sorely regretted all the drinks, hurriedly getting out of bed to get as far away from the memories as possible.

Once, he was almost taken advantage of. He had woken up in a bed with a girl by his side, ill-clad with her gangly limbs all over his body. He should have at least known her name, but he didn’t even recognise her face. When he tried to peel her off of him and get dressed, she forced herself on him, and it had taken all of his drunken strength to get away.

He didn’t need to be drunk to tell you stories, because he could consciously decide to be open with you, even while sober. You didn’t either, but you were glad that you no longer needed alcohol to stop you from falling head over heels for Lee Donghyuck.

After all, he was there to stay.

RENJUN'S HUSHED WHISPERS SOUNDED URGENT even to you, causing you to open your eyes even when you wanted to seal them shut and fall back asleep.

“Good morning,” you cooed, placing kisses on each of Donghyuck’s moles. He blinked his eyes open sleepily and stared at you through half-closed eyelids before shutting them again and snuggling in closer to you.

“It’s too fucking early to be awake, go back to sleep.” Donghyuck said as he slid his cold fingers under your shirt, wrapping them around your torso as he hummed to himself. “You’re so warm…”

You shivered at his touch, jerking back in shock. Donghyuck whined softly and continued nuzzling his head against you, and you relented, moving in closer towards him while he smiled against your neck.

You caught snippets of Renjun’s conversation with Mark, hearing words like “half-naked”, “still dripping”, and “couldn’t even come in to sleep”. It didn’t take a genius to guess that they were talking about you, and the unabashed excitement on Mark’s face confirmed it for you.

You pried Donghyuck’s fingers from your skin, pushing his head away while he murmured in protest, flinging the covers off of you.

“Argh!”

“Sorry, Hyuckie.” You quickly grabbed the blanket and tucked Donghyuck back in, and he frowned at the absence of your heat, turning away from you sulkily and curling up into a ball. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, brushing his hair out of his face, gravitating towards Renjun’s conversation as it got clearer and easier to understand.

“Are you talking about me?” You asked, and Renjun almost leapt from his chair in shock. His mouth was comically open, and his eyes were wide in surprise.

“When did you wake up?”

“Just,” you assured him, taking your seat and resting your head in your hands. “So, what about me?”

“We made a bet,” Mark said, a little too quick to throw Renjun under the bus. “We wanted to guess who would make the first move. I said Donghyuck would because of his personality, but Renjun said he was too much of a coward to really do anything about it.”

“Technically, you’re both right. Hyuck did make the first move, but I kissed him first, so I think I deserve some of that credit too.”

Renjun’s head bobbed up and down so quickly you were afraid his neck might break off. “Y/n’s right. Since he kissed Donghyuck first, you owe me. 10,000 won, remember?”

Mark’s mouth opened and closed as he stared at you, flabbergasted, before he finally gave up on trying to form words and reached into his pocket instead.

As Renjun counted the money, Mark fixed you with a hard stare. “If I’m broke, you’re paying for the next meal.”

“Deal."

—

Donghyuck left the house wrapped up in thoughts of your mouth on his. He couldn’t believe that someone like you would like someone like him. It had, quite literally, never occurred to him that you might like him back.

From the first time he had set eyes on you that winter evening, seeing you next to Jaemin and the resemblance in both of your eyes and hearing your English-accented voice for the first time, he had loved you more than he should have.

He grew to like all of you, the parts of you that drank Nesquik (like a little kid) when you were tired, that craved boba but held back from buying it because it was “unhealthy”, the parts of you that hated pineapple on pizza and thought he was an idiot. He loved when you were scared of the most trivial things, only to do risky shit when you thought no one was looking.

Most importantly, he loved the way you smiled with all your heart, your mouth open wide and your lips stretched wider than he thought was physically possible. Joy was written in the crease of your smile and the folds of your skin, and he loved every part of you.

He loved you so much, in fact, that when he reached into his pocket to send you a text to tell you he missed you, he realised that he had forgotten his phone amidst the residual shock he had woken up in that morning.

When he heard his name, he whirled around at the familiar voice and saw his saviour running toward him with a Tupperware in one hand and his phone in the other, hair sticking up in all different directions, still wearing pyjama pants.

“Y/n,” he breathed out. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?”

You ran your hand through your hair in response, shoving his phone into his hand.

“I… saw that Mark had cut some fruits for Chenle, and I know that you’re bad at taking care of yourself so… I brought it for you. Don’t worry, I’ll cut more for Chenle later, he’ll just have to deal with not having them in his favourite container.” The words came out all in a rush, between pants and wheezes. Running clearly wasn’t your speciality.

“I wasn’t worried,” Donghyuck said. “And thank you.”

“Someone’s got to love you right, even if that means reminding you that your body requires nutrients to survive,” you muttered, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Is that so?” You nodded sagely, and he laughed, and somewhere in your mind, you managed to conjure up the word pretty.

DONGHYUCK WAS SO COCKY. You had always known it, but seeing him leaning languidly against the opening to the small photo booth, curly hair falling into his eyes, peering through his lashes as he watched your every movement, you were reminded of it.

Each of the eight of you were clutching your graduation hats, Jaemin, Jeno, Renjun and Jisung hovering outside the photo booth while they waited for you to browse through the frames.

Everyone was dressed in their graduation gowns, having rushed to take a picture at the nearby mall the second you had all received your diplomas. Chenle had insisted that four-cut photos were a tradition, and you didn’t want to miss out on the chance to take more photos.

After taking the goofiest photos ever (Jaemin had had lots of fun posing, and you had a bruise on your hip from falling into the “door” frame), the gang decided to let you and Chenle pick a frame and print it out.

“Quickly,” Jaemin’s voice called. “Y/n, what exactly are you doing? It doesn’t take that long to click an option!”

Mark left you and Chenle to choose, going outside the photo booth to pacify Jaemin.

Finally, you and Chenle managed to agree on an option that both of you liked, and the machine began whirring as it spat out the eight copies. You snatched them from Chenle, whistling as you exited the photo booth, waving the photos triumphantly at the rest.

“Done!”

All of a sudden, Donghyuck started cooing, “Aww, you want to kiss me so bad.” Before you knew what he was talking about, he tiptoed to reach your lips and gave you a quick peck.

“What?” The realisation dawned on you a moment later, remembering how you had puckered your lips while whistling. Donghyuck, ever the opportunist, had obviously taken the chance to kiss you again. “Hyuck, you kissed me. I don’t think I’m the desperate one here.”

Donghyuck would have responded if Renjun and Chenle’s hands hadn’t appeared out of nowhere, shoving you into the photo booth. The last thing you saw before they drew the curtains shut was Jaemin with his arms crossed over his chest, smirking at you.

“Guess we’re stuck together, then.” Donghyuck didn’t seem thrown off in the least, quietly clicking through the options before he settled on one. The timer beeped, and you followed Donghyuck’s lead to make a heart.

You posed a total of three times before Donghyuck ran out of ideas, and he stared at you as the countdown grew louder. Three, two, one…

“Kiss me back, Hyuckie,” you murmured as you tilted Donghyuck’s chin up to meet yours. The light flashed, and you reluctantly pulled away to check the results. The pictures turned out adorable, and you slipped it into your wallet and grinned at Donghyuck.

“You stole my line!”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Well, you were wrong about the perilla debate, so I think it evens out.”

“What do you mean? We’re together now, aren’t we? Therefore, it must have been because I separated the perilla leaves for you that one time, which makes my stand the correct one.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway because neither of us were in a relationship at the time,” you reminded him. Renjun and Jeno heard only the tail-end of your conversation as you exited the confined space, and they sighed tiredly.

Seeing their reactions, you couldn’t help but laugh. You loved Lee Donghyuck so fucking much.

- fin -

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