#anyways sorry to get sappy in the notes lol

[squipedmew]

holy shit this is so surreal

10+ years of being a Porter Robinson fan and I finally got to see him live

[thelaurenshippen]

ummmmmm I caught up on last night's 911 and.....hello!?!?!?!?!?!? I AM HAVING THE TIME OF MY LIFE

[waitineedaname]

you're going on a hike, how about u write about Binghe going on a hike with shizun?

sorry this is a day late! it turned out super sappy lol

--

Luo Binghe had spent a long time fantasizing about his future with Shen Qingqiu. Many of those fantasies had been strictly private and unsuitable for polite company, but many others had been innocent. Fantasies about living in the Bamboo House forever, attending to all Shen Qingqiu’s domestic needs. Fantasies about becoming a strong cultivator, becoming a suitable cultivation partner for a peak lord of Shen Qingqiu’s caliber.

And fantasies of days like this, following at Shen Qingqiu’s heels like a good head disciple should, assisting him with research for his bestiary.

“Binghe, look!” Shen Qingqiu exclaimed, voice hushed so as not to startle the beasts they’d been tracking. They crouched together in the brush, obscured from the creatures’ view. 

The beasts they were searching for today were some obscure variety of rodent, somewhere between a rabbit and a large squirrel, with incongruously menacing teeth and fur so pale they blended in perfectly with the snow around them. Apparently they were notoriously shy and difficult to find, made worse by the fact that they were only found near the peak of one specific mountain. The creatures were most active in the winter, when the mountain’s terrain was most difficult for humans to navigate, but they’d gotten lucky today; they had a break from the near constant blizzards that haunted this mountain, leaving the sky the kind of crisp blue reserved for remarkably cold winter days. Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe flew up the mountain early in the morning and had been tracking the creatures for hours before finally spotting them.

“Quick,” Shen Qingqiu whispered, pressing a notebook and stick of charcoal in Luo Binghe’s hands. “Sketch them, and I’ll take notes. You’re the better artist, anyway,” he said, the praise spilling easily from his mouth as he retrieved his own notes.

“Only because Shizun taught me so well,” Luo Binghe said, brimming with pride. Shen Qingqiu huffed and flicked his forehead, but his attention was elsewhere.

“I can’t believe they’ve let us get so close,” Shen Qingqiu murmured, taking notes in a shorthand Luo Binghe could still only partially decipher. “Look, are those the kits? I don’t think their young have ever been documented. We’ll be the first!” 

Luo Binghe watched the animals hop around in the clearing, carefully sketching them. The babies were quite cute, resembling little snowballs as they snuggled with what must be their mother. “Does Shizun want one?” 

“Want one?” Shen Qingqiu startled, then shook his head. “Of course not. Look how happy they are with their mother. I couldn’t bear separating them.”

One particularly clingy kit squished against its mother’s chest and made a whiny, trilling sound. The mother obligingly began grooming between its ears.

Luo Binghe scooted closer to Shen Qingqiu so they were pressed together from hips to shoulders. Shen Qingqiu absently rubbed Luo Binghe’s back for just a moment before returning to his notes.

“Besides,” he continued, pointing at a bird that had made the mistake of landing near the rodent family, “They’re rather territorial.”

Faster than should be possible, the rabbit-squirrel mother launched herself at the bird and ripped it to bloody shreds. The bird didn’t even manage to let out a death cry before the kits swarmed and happily began feasting upon it. 

“I see.” Luo Binghe glanced down at the sketch he’d made of the rabbit mother sweetly grooming its kit. He looked back up to find that same kit’s white fur now completely bloodstained. “I suppose they would not make very good pets.”

“No,” Shen Qingqiu chuckled. “If we brought one home, they would eat all the short-haired beasts Liu-shidi keeps bringing, and then where would we be?”

“I’m sure Liu-shishu would just bring more,” Luo Binghe grumbled under his breath. That made Shen Qingqiu laugh a little louder, inadvertently startling the rodent family. They all froze and stared at the bush where the two of them hid, their fur menacingly bloodstained.

“Come on,” Shen Qingqiu whispered, tugging on Luo Binghe’s sleeve. “Let’s leave them alone before they decide we’re prey too.”

Luo Binghe was pretty sure he could handle half a dozen rabbits, sharp teeth or not, but he obligingly followed Shen Qingqiu away from the clearing. Shen Qingqiu’s hand slid down from his sleeve to slip into Luo Binghe’s hand and squeeze gently. 

“I have one more thing I’d like to see,” Shen Qingqiu suggested, glancing up at his husband. “Unless Binghe would like to go home?”

“This disciple will go wherever Shizun wishes,” Luo Binghe answered immediately.

Shen Qingqiu scoffed, but side by side like this he couldn’t hide his smile behind his fan. He led Luo Binghe through the dense underbrush, following an overgrown trail up the mountain. They went higher and higher, high enough that it surely rivaled even Cang Qiong’s highest peaks, and then the trees finally parted and they found themselves at the very tip of the mountain. Luo Binghe’s eyes widened at the view, and Shen Qingqiu looked inordinately pleased. 

“It’s even better than described,” Shen Qingqiu muttered, and Luo Binghe wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear that. Shen Qingqiu tugged him along until they stood at the absolute highest point of the mountain, overlooking the range of jagged peaks below them, followed by hills and rivers and distant fields. Shen Qingqiu let go of his hand to point out landmarks.

“There’s Huan Hua Palace and Hua Yue City,” he said, pointing to a city amidst the distant plains. “That other mountain range is Cang Qiong Mountain. And there,” he added, pointing to a winding river whose origins spilled from a tall snow capped mountain, “That’s the Luo River.”

“It’s beautiful,” Luo Binghe said truthfully. The recent snow had covered most of the nearby landscape in white, but the clear skies made the ground glitter and shine. This high up, they could see to nearly impossible distances, past familiar landmarks to places he only heard about on trade reports. He was suddenly filled with the hunger to sweep Shen Qingqiu up and fly to that farthest point, just to see his husband’s delight at exploring a new place.

Beside him, Shen Qingqiu had a small, smug smile. “I thought Binghe would like it. This master apologizes, but Binghe’s birthday snuck up on him this year. I would’ve done something more special if I’d planned earlier, but hopefully this is enough for now. Oh!” he exclaimed, a puff of air escaping his mouth into the frosty air. “Binghe must be cold. Hold on.”

He began rummaging around in his qiankun sleeve, giving Luo Binghe a moment to admire the flush on Shen Qingqiu’s cheeks from the crisp air and the contented tilt to his lips. The view was beautiful, yes, but it was made all the more beautiful by the man next to him. If he said that out loud, Shen Qingqiu would surely scold him for being sappy, so he kept that thought to himself and waited patiently for Shen Qingqiu to extract whatever he was looking for.

“Here,” Shen Qingqiu said, pulling out a warm flask and pressing it into Luo Binghe’s hands. “I special ordered that dark tea you like. The flask is your Shang-shishu’s design.” He traced his finger over the talisman carved into the flask. “Despite the man’s many faults, he is the expert at surviving in cold temperatures. This master thought we could share the tea and enjoy the view before returning to our inn. How does that sound?”

Luo Binghe couldn’t resist. He leaned in and pressed a kiss directly to his husband’s mouth. Shen Qingqiu made a startled little noise but he kissed back easily. When they eventually pulled apart, Luo Binghe nuzzled their cold noses together.

“Thanking Shizun,” he murmured, smiling. 

Shen Qingqiu hummed, seeming distracted by Luo Binghe’s proximity. He leaned away, his cheeks flushed for reasons beyond the cold, and pointed his folded fan at the flask. “Binghe better enjoy that tea. It wasn’t easy to find, you know.”

“Of course.” Luo Binghe grinned and led him over to a broad stone they could sit together on. “Though, forgive this ignorant disciple the question, but… how does Shizun know this one’s birthday?”

Shen Qingqiu’s fan snapped open and covered his face as his eyes darted away. “Lucky guess.” 

“I see.” Luo Binghe nodded, schooling his expression into something neutral. “It’s just, this one did not even know his own birthday. Shizun is truly knowledgeable.”

Shen Qingqiu glanced back at him and his eyes narrowed over his fan. “Does Binghe not want to celebrate today? This master had planned to continue celebrations in our room at the inn after we finished our tea, but if Binghe insists it is not his birthday…”

Luo Binghe drank his tea so quickly it would’ve burned his tongue if not for his accelerated healing. Shen Qingqiu graciously did not snort at him. No, that noise was definitely a dignified chuckle. Certainly nothing so inelegant as a snort that made him hunch his shoulders and shake. Never.

The tips of his ears and nose were losing feeling from the chill, but he was warm where Shen Qingqiu’s hand brushed against his and where their thighs pressed together. 

Yes, he had many fantasies in his youth, but nothing could measure up to how warm and beautiful the real thing was. 

[satocidal]

im so used to writing gojo ive forgotten how to erite for the other men LMAO

anyways now i want your thoughts on how the jjk men would console the reader if she got rejected

me when any character besides satosugu. it's crazy, my entire masterlist is just them with sprinkles of other characters. like i'm actually very scared of writing anyone else now (and have a superiority complex that i just KNOW them)

but onto this, yes. (these are with assumptions that jjk men and you guys are platonic) don't come @ for toji or nanami👹

I like to think Satoru would unironically throw you a pity party, don't get me wrong, it has everything you Love, expect ofc the person you wanted - and this fact, Satoru reminds you all night through his lame ass jokes. He fully believes in exposure therapy and so, the rejection gets brought up in jokes, at your expense, all night. Somewhere in the night your phone would also get stolen and he would read all the texts between you two, talking about how that didn't age well at all. But he makes up for it, he truly does - when he holds you so tight next to him, reminding just how much better you could do - you do deserve, and just full on bashing them. Makes use of his money to remind you that finer things in life do exist. And uh, duh, binge watching love island because, ofc.

I do believe that Toji would have the worst 'first' response to it - a little, "so?" dropping out of his mouth, or worse, "who didn't see that coming?" and it just makes you feel worse. But but but, he is quite the charmer and he senses it all too quick - so there he is beside you, acting all cool and non-chalant and ready to bestow his wisdom on you, he'll just settle beside you, offering something to drink - his holy grail for tough nights, and mutters a little "it's okay - if it ain't meant to be, it ain't meant to be." Actually very calm about the situation, in facts, for a minute too long, he'll even validate your stupid responses (not for too long, because he can only take so much). However if you need a hug, or a shoulder to cry upon? he's holding you so tight, offering the best quiet night you could want - and reassuring you that things will get better and you always are going to meet someone who'll be it✨for you. lol i can't see him not getting sappy when he comforts you so

A pursed line, a shake of his head and a long sigh punctuate the silence Nanami offers you, the moment you tell him the fact, bro is not amused. To say the least, Nanami was invested - from the very beginning when you had started questioning, stalking that person to slowly eating nanami's brain off about them, he'd been invested - so now he can only offer a sorry smile as he holds you, even he didn't see this coming. Like everytime else, he allows you to ramble, listening wholeheartedly - wincing and grumbling about how the rejection could have been avoided, grimacing that, that person reacted immaturely, staring onto his palm wondering where he went wrong to even allow you to like a person who would act this way. And after all of it, he opens his finest wine because what other ocassion if not for your grief - and then, he starts talking smack. and shit talk he does good, bringing down that person's everything - fashion taste, financial status, past relations - anything and everything, a true hater, such that you end up wondering if nanami was the one who got rejected.

The tea is boiling on the stove - for either case, Suguru had sent you with so many affirmations, it almost felt disappointing to tell him you got rejected. the clench of his jaw is so obvious - but he just smiles, smn in attempt to reassure you further, a little "i see," slips him as he leads you to the couch. You see he can't take it, not the frown you have as you recount the story (he's making mental notes of everything), not the little catching of your words when your throat gets all weird, so on the verge, not when he sees you blinking back the tears. Suguru is a hater, second to only nanami and that is because nanami doesn't pause on the hate track - suguru waits, suguru works his way to heal you first. so many reassurances whispered in your ears as he holds you, already making to-do plans to cheer you up, the hand on remote to browse through the movies you love to watch, other hand recahing to block that person BUT also, silently slipping in the worst responses in your head. telling you how that person never deserved you, how you must be going through smn he didn't notice because how could you like that? there's absolute disgust in his voice - and you know that disgust finally shines when he begins catfishing that person through some account just to get back on them, for you <3

[sweetsuburbanlegends]

Honey Bee - Oneshot

Pairing: Marc Spector x Reader, Steven Grant x Reader (mentioned not shown)

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: A quiet Sunday afternoon, a not-so-quiet mind.

A/N: I started writing this two years ago when I was in a really bad spot mentally and emotionally. At that time my father kept honey bees and they were such a huge comfort to me, and I would spend hours by their hives. We lost the bees at the same time we lost my childhood cat. Anyways lol, thought it was high time I finished this in their memory. Sorry to get so sappy in the A/N.

Despite the hardened edges of his body, the firm planes of muscle in his arms and chest, Marc was unbelievably soft. 

Soft and round and fuzzy like a bumblebee. 

He had the same nervous energy about him like one anyways. Never able to sit still long enough unless it was for a baseball game, or a movie you’d roped him into watching. 

Marc never did well with TV. Episodes that were too long for it to be a passing interest, too short for him to deem it worthwhile to get invested in. 

But there was an old baseball rerun playing this Sunday afternoon, and like tradition, Marc had to watch. He’d drifted from his perch on the couch to the ground, back pressed against the bottom of the sofa, legs spread out in front of him. 

Later, in the lazy, warm sun of the day, he’d drifted off. 

Remote-in-hand, mouth-open. Dad-style. 

It’s an impossibly soft image of him, one that belongs with fleece blankets and warm kitten fur. With Steven’s smiles and Marc’s laughs, ones that have become increasingly more common. Common enough that it’s worth noting.  

You stash the picture away inside your heart like a furtive secret meant only for your own eyes. Lost treasures of Atlantis, one-by-one, being found and shined, left to soak up the sun and the fresh air they’ve been lacking for forever and a day. 

It’s cute. He’s cute. 

He’d scoff at you if he knew that’s what you thought of him. 

But you also know that if you touched his cheek, it would be all hot and moments later he would kiss you senseless so as to win some time over to compose himself. 

With Marc asleep, and the low hum of the television as your sole companion, the thoughts had drifted in. 

They started when you started to slice an apple, peanut butter jar close at hand. Something you wanted to share with Marc through sticky kisses and giggles, savouring the last few bits of the weekend with him while you had the chance. Early Sunday afternoon stretching out to fill the hours twice fold, making up for it later in the evening. 

Voices from your childhood echo through your ears instead, overpowering the good, sweet thoughts of the beauty pressed into Marc Spector and making tears gather at your eyes. 

They’re not pleasant thoughts to be having. You know that this will dampen your mood for the rest of the day, that the heavy fog will not lift without a good night’s sleep. 

There'll be a lag on all your actions, a slur to your words that Marc will inevitably pick up on when he wakes. 

You feel guilt creep onto the torrent of emotions swirling in your lungs. Guilt for tainting the sunshine and peace that Marc rarely ever gets to enjoy. 

You decide that you’ll help him up onto the couch, spread a blanket over him so he won’t get cold, and retreat to the bathroom to let the tears out, away from his eyes. 

There are gentle snores coming out of him, in rhythm with his chest. They tug at your heartstrings. A real and simple reminder of his reality that makes you want to fuse your skin to his, so as to bask in the tender light of his being. 

The softness of Marc is a stark contrast to the ghosts of your past, siren-like screeches that tug at your ankles. Though he normally brings you buckets of comfort, right now the difference between the two is jarring, it reminds you of all you deserved and didn’t get.

The knot in your throat tightens and you hope that Marc will fall asleep before you get to the bathroom and that the sound of the tap running will drown out the sounds you’ll make, kill them off before they reach the safe bubble he’s created for himself. 

He murmurs when you press a hand to his shoulder, eyes fluttering and giving back into sleep. 

Changing methods, you start to gently tug the remote out of his hand. 

He awakes long enough for his eyes to catch onto you. Without a second thought, he reaches for the pillow and blanket on top of the couch and pulls you down with them. 

You’re not sure if he’s actually awake or just moving on instinct; if he’s noticed that something’s wrong, or if he genuinely wants you beside him in his haven of sunshine and baseball. 

In seconds, he’s cocooned you within his arms, your face to his chest. The smell of him is engulfing; you hope it gets ingrained into your lungs. 

Marc mutters something about getting back to sleep and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

You shouldn’t have let it derail this far and this quickly. 

But you’ve never been particularly strong-willed when it came to Marc anyways, so you also give into the heavy tug of your eyelids, the comforting weight of the sunny afternoon and the murmurings of the baseball game, the feel of Marc’s chest moving like the ocean’s waves against your chest lulling you into a dreamless sleep. 

When you wake, your throat is still tight, eyes stinging with the promise of tears. 

You try to not let them get the best of you, but they do, rolling down your cheeks and neck. 

Their tracks start to itch as they dry, but your arms are around Marc’s waist, his belly pressing into yours, and you can’t move for fear of disturbing him. 

The baseball game has ended, the golden light spilling in the window more reddish now than yellow. It’s the beginning of the end of Sunday, the clocks picking up in speed to make up for the time they lost throughout the afternoon. 

There’s a commercial playing now on the television. About some sort of dishwasher. 

The noise is grating. You don’t know if it’s possible to turn it off without waking Marc up, without him seeing you cry. 

You won’t ruin his days off like this, won’t let yourself do it. 

You came into Marc’s life to make him happy. 

And you’ve succeeded so far, you won’t lose this progress. 

Despite your thoughts and worries, he stirs awake with a quiet grunt. Before you have the time to hide away like a snail in its shell, he lifts himself away from you letting your heart sink into your chest. 

Though still not completely better, his presence has done wonders, as it always does, to soothe your aches a little, quiet the voices. 

You suppose it was a bit idiotic to suppose that he wouldn’t pick up on your sour mood without you letting him know. 

You’re also remarkably glad for him for leaving you like this, for being selfish and putting himself and his weekend first. 

He sits up and reaches over you; you quickly hide your face in the pillow to lessen the damage that’s already been done. It smells like him, like the oil he uses in his hair and his aftershave. 

The sounds of the commercial are shut off, there’s a clatter of plastic against wood as he tosses the remote aside. The silence is soul-cleansing, akin to turning off the fume hood after you’re done cooking. You’re able to hear it, to touch it. 

It’s silent save for the shuffling sounds of Marc’s body as he comes to lay back down beside you.

He must have not noticed that you’re awake, that your eyes are soaking the pillowcase underneath your head, that you’re not sure how long you can keep doing it silently. 

Any coherent plans have flown out the window. Your body is strung tight from the exertion of holding it all in, an over-saturated solution, salt crystals spinning and spinning and not dissolving no matter how quickly the water swirls around itself. 

He runs the backs of his fingers from the top of your ear to the curve of your jaw. 

They stop when he feels wet skin. 

Now it’s time to do what you should have done from the beginning. Marc’s already found out too much. 

A mirror of his movements from moments earlier, you start to pull away from him. 

To your surprise, he stops you. Cups your cheek and guides your eyes to his. 

His gaze is searching, flitting over your face and trying to figure it out. Weaved into his eyes you can see his own guilt growing. 

“No,” you murmur, voice watery. You wrap your hand around his wrist to keep him where he is. “Not you. S’never you, Marc.” 

However this decides to unroll, he needs to know this one truth. You’ll repeat it for him like a broken record player if you have it, until he’s accepted it. 

You would have let him know if he had upset you. 

Given him the clarity and consistency he craved as a child and never received. 

The tension creeps out of his shoulders and he shuffles forward a little. Though there are some parts of him that are doubting your words, there are much larger pieces of him, like golden honeycomb candy, that fight against and accept the truth you hold out to him as easily as you do your heart. 

He nudges the tip of his nose against yours, still quietly keeping eye contact with you. 

So lost in thoughts of Marc, you’ve forgotten that your tears are still falling down in clumpy balls. 

He tsks and wipes them away. The pads of his fingers are rough, but you don’t think anything softer or gentler has touched your face. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” 

You shake your head again, let go of his wrist to smooth your palm against the side of his face, “Nothing.” He shoots you a look. You know it’s a feeble attempt at sticking to your original plan. The curve of his eyebrows quiets the static inside your mind, it always amazes you what his mere existence can do. “Marc, you’re so good.” 

The edges of his mouth have hardened over. Marc doesn’t like not knowing what makes you cry, he’s never satisfied with just knowing that it wasn’t him. He’s a glaring, beautiful contrast to all your other past partners. 

“I love you,” you murmur. When you blink, a couple more tears fall, your voice cracks, “Do you love me?” 

He shuffles forward, a little bit more he’s going to go out focus he’ll be so close, “Yeah, honey.” Physically, all that surrounds you is Marc; you wish it would be just as easy to have him haze into your mind, never to leave again, leaving no room for bad things. “I love you.” 

“I love you. You’re so good to me, Marc.” Even his name rolls around like a marble in your mouth, “Marc, baby.” 

There’s a dent that arises between his eyebrows that you push away with your thumb. It returns stubbornly, his arms curling around your waist, underneath your shirt. His fingers press little circles into your skin. 

“You want Steven?” 

“No,” your chest tightens down the middle. “No, not unless you don’t want to be here with me.” The words hurt, but you feel they ring true. This was never supposed to have gotten out of hand like it has. You know your cryptic half-sentences aren’t doing much to soothe his worries, his weekend now for sure ruined. “I want you.” 

He shakes his head, takes your hand in his and kisses the pad of your pointer finger. Bringing it to rest on his shoulder, he runs his palm down the side of your face, the same way you'd done earlier. “Wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.” 

You filter through your words like they’re shelved in a library; you’re choosy and picky with them. “Just thinking about my childhood, s’all.” 

“Oh.” Tides upon tides of emotions rise and fall in his eyes. You wonder why you ever thought that Marc was unreadable, when he wore his heart on his sleeve, his soul in his eyes. “Bad stuff?” 

“It’ll go away soon enough…” your eyes fall away from him. “M’sorry.” 

He hasn’t let this go, your words having scared him more than being of those of reassurance, just like you had feared, just like you hadn’t wanted them to. As always, he’s going to shoulder this on himself, if not on something he’s done, on his being asleep, protective guard falling away for a brief moment and the old haunts of your past slipping in easily. 

“Wish you’d tell me.” He settles finally, the swarm of anxiety in his eyes calming. He says it low, that gentle, murmuring tone you liked so much, as if he didn’t want to scare you away. 

The thought of it again brings tears to your eyes, you sniff and shake your head, “I’ll just go back to mine.” You’re about to move away when a warm hand wraps around your arm. 

Earnest, honeyed eyes look back at you, flickering back and forth across your face, wide and fawn-like. Honey bees swarming around his ears. “You’re crying.” 

Gently, quietly, he pulls you back. Tired and buckling under the weight, you let him, and he tucks your head underneath his chin. You hear him turn the TV back on, a Seinfeld rerun. 

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

[nevernonline]

✧.* twenty-seven?; ksy

synopsis: you always wanted to be considered a ‘serious’ journalist, but to get the chance at moving up the ranks and getting to produce your own stories, you’re get an idea to do one final story and impress your boss, that’s where inspiration strikes with the one and only soonyoung.

part of my ninety minute movies one shot series. ♡︎

paring: hoshi x fem! reader. 

genre: strangers2lvrs

warning/s:mentions of substances (alcohol, weed, cig, vape etc.) swearing, very bad jokes!, just fluffy and nice no seggsy time

word count: 8.4k

content: . non-idol idolings, some other svt members. hoshi is down bad fast xo.

note: my next little inspired movie writing is the icon that is 27 dresses. except instead of our female lead being the one in the wedding its my fav tiger (hamster) soony. I just love sappy cutie soonyoung so I apologize in advance. also unedited bc im a loser srry. it shouldn't be tew bad bc I tried to take my time lol. ily.

Finding a cozy spot at a table to the left of the bride and groom, you flipped open your notebook and started jotting down pin points on the decor, the flowers, the bride's beautiful flowing silk gown, and the way the groom looked at her with stars in his eyes. 

The first dance song rang around the room gathering all the adorned looks of friends and family watching as another couple took the leap on spending the rest of their lives together. 

A rocks glass was placed in front of your pen and paper as the chair next to her was suddenly filled with the stranger who put it there. 

“Taking notes for your own wedding?” 

“Oh. No, I'm doing a piece for the Daily on their wedding.” 

“Are you y/n l/n by any chance?” 

“I am. You’re familiar with me?” 

“Yeah, just through the bride. She’s my sister. She talks about you nonstop. I’m Soonyoung, I was the one who contacted you.” 

“I see. Nice to meet you. What’s the drink for?” 

“Working hard, I figured you should at least enjoy yourself a little bit.” 

“That’s nice. Thank you.” 

Soonyoung stared at the girl across from him, trying to catch a peak at her notes seeing if she was painting this night in a perfect light.

You caught on and shut the book quietly, giving him a small wink as a shout it would be everything his sister wanted. 

“What’s the drink?” 

“A vodka soda, lemon.” 

“So, you know my drink order? Thought you said you didn’t know who I was?” 

“I saw you at a wedding a few weeks ago, my friend Seungkwan. I noticed your drink, that's all. That’s how I got your contact actually.” 

“Lying on the first meet, a great sign. No wonder you look so familiar to me. You were the best man right? But blonde at the time?” 

“My sister would’ve killed me if I was blonde at her wedding and sorry not lying just felt creepy admitting it. 

“I liked it.” 

Soonyoung laughed remembering the conversation he had with his sister about his hair. 

“So what’s it like being in two weddings in one month, Soonyoung?” 

“Actually I’m going to be in three. Next week my coworker is getting married. Which would make my wedding count twenty-six.” 

“You’ve been to twenty-six weddings?” 

“Yep. After next week anyway. What’s your wedding count?” 

“Ones I’ve covered? Too many to count. Ones I’ve been in? Two I think. Both of my brothers are married. That’s about it.” 

“So you cover weddings but aren’t married?” 

Rolling your eyes at his unfiltered nature, you couldn’t help but feel like his question was out of curiosity and not judgment. The way his eyes searched hers for answers was genuinely adorable. 

“Almost at one point, but he cheated on me and is marrying her now. I didn’t actually become a journalist to cover weddings anyway, it sort of just happened.” 

“I see.” 

“What about you? Being at all those weddings and never getting married?” 

“No. Not even close, I was in love with the same girl for a long time, but she didn’t feel the same way.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” 

After spending the rest of your night enjoying Soonyoungs company, you bid goodbye to the bride and groom and headed back to your home to get down to working on the article. 

Digging through your black leather tote you realize you forgot to take your journal home with you, leaving it on the white table cloth being distracted by a new friend. 

Realizing you don’t have his number you took it upon yourself to stalk his social media profiles in hope you could find a way to get in contact with him, maybe he was your saving grace in taking your book for safekeeping until he could give it back to you. 

Saying fuck it for now you just began typing away about your night, thanking god or whomever that you backed up your calendar digitally when you get a clever idea to write an article still about weddings, but about the person you met who had been a groomsmen all those times. Searching for any kind of photos and videos of his past times supporting nuptials. 

All you came up with was a couple cheesing photos of him posing in his suits of many colors and types when you get the idea to go back into your own rolodex of photos and writings from weddings you’ve done in the past, noticing him standing near the bride and groom in just a few it was now safe to say he has piqued your interest even more than before. 

You decided to draft an email to your boss begging for the chance to write her an article about the types of bridesmaids and groomsmen who’ve been involved in many years of weddings as a support, if you found one person who had done so many in a short time it wouldn’t be hard to find more right? 

Before getting ready for bed you sat refreshing your email waiting for the go-ahead to investigate Soonyoung further with the excuse that it was simply just for work, it took multiple scrolls to the point where your thumb was starting to hurt from running it over the screen until she replied. 

‘Y/n, feel free to start drafting up the story. If I like it I’ll let you have more creative articles in the future. Please have it on my desk in two weeks.’

When the morning finally arrived, you had to make the rough decision to get out of bed and head to grab a coffee from the shop in your apartment lobby. Normally you’d be cuddled on your couch with your cat, spending your Saturday morning reading and watching reruns of your favorite reality shows, but much to your surprise the coffee stash you usually have stocked has dried up. 

Exiting the silver doors of the elevator a call came from the front desk attendant and you were met by a brown paper bag tied with a bow, the outside scribbled on with some crayons of silly faces and drawings of cartoon tigers, stickers of hello kitty, and a pink note taped to the handle. 

“Miss. Y/l/n! Some boy dropped this for you last night.” 

“Oh? Thank you, Max.” 

Ripping open the small note in line for your morning brew, it instantly puts a smile on your face.

‘Hi, I noticed you left this on the table. Hope it’s not weird. I dropped it off for you. Your address was inside. At least I can stalk you now. - Soonyoung (wedding guy lol)” 

Inside the bag was your planner and a few random pieces of candy thrown around. A small bookmark was placed on a page and written underneath was a date for next Thursday and the number of your new favorite subject marked ‘single seeking wedding date.’ 

After grabbing the paper cup from the barista behind the counter you whip your phone out and dial the number written inside your prized possession. 

“Hello, is this the single seeking a date?” 

“Hey, it is. Is this the cute girl who’s planner I found?” 

“I think so? I don’t know any other cute girls who like going to weddings.” 

“Are you available for drinks and a little pre-wedding party?” 

“When?” 

“Tonight.” 

“Tonight? Wow. Eager to see me again I see.” 

“I am. And I’m being bold right now which is new for me, so please don’t make me cry.” 

“Aw. But I’m sure you’re so pretty when you cry.” 

“I’m always pretty, y/n. So?” 

“Sure. Why not?” 

You heard Soonyoung gasp over the phone and drop something loud. 

“Really?” 

“Want me to take it back?” 

“No. Cool. I will.. pick you up at 6:30? We can get some drinks before and then it’s just like a casual party, but my friends are kind of fancy so maybe like nice cocktail attire. I’m sure you know.” 

“Okay. I’m sure you remember where to find me? After all, you did confess to being a stalker.” 

“Oh my god. I was kidding, don’t take me seriously. I’ll see you then.” 

“See you, Soony. Ok now I’m corny. That wasn’t meant to be a pun. Bye.” 

Hearing the boy's laughter over the phone almost gave you butterflies. 

“You’re funny. Bye.” 

Spending the rest of your normally relaxing afternoon getting ready to slyly interrogate your new friend, you decided to not go out of your way to look overly special after all you weren’t even sure this quote on quote date was anything romantic or just a way of initiating a friendship. 

Just before you leave your front door you sat to think if it was appropriate to bring along the same journal that was delivered to you the same morning, but made the conscious decision to leave it behind and not make this first night getting to know each other about you digging into his life for your own gain. 

The ride down the elevator had you inspecting yourself in its small safety mirror, fixing the very last strand of hair that felt out of place on your head, not paying any attention to the people jumping off and on from their various floors. 

When you finally stepped out into the marble covered lobby, you immediately spotted Soonyoung draped over the side of the couch holding his legs close, almost like a nervous child looking around the room and pouting because he can’t find his toy. 

When he finally locked eyes with you his childlike demeanor changed immediately into a spunky puppy, jumping up from his seat and dusting off crumbs on his pants that weren’t even there in the first place, maybe to wipe his hands from their small sweat they were undergoing. 

“Hi, y/n. You look very nice” 

“Really? So do you. Where are we headed?” 

“There’s a cool poet themed bar just like two blocks from here, I thought you’d enjoy it since you’re a writer and everything.” 

You looked at Soonyoung with wide eyes, it was a sign of how considerate he was yet again, just like the thought he put into bringing you, your planner and decorating the bag. 

His sharp brown eyes sparkled under the street lights, almost like they were reflecting stars, his baggy khaki pants with matching jacket slung perfectly over his frame, he was cute. You could admit it to yourself that something about him was magnetic and you already wanted more. 

“Y/n? Is that not your thing? I’m sorry we can do something else, I shouldn’t of assumed all writers like poetr-“ 

“Oh I’m sorry, I was distracted. Has anyone told you that you have insanely cute eyes? But yes, poetry’s cool. I’m more of a classic novel girl, but it sounds fun. Stop second guessing yourself. You’re good.” 

Your hand moved faster than your brain as you brought it up to pat him gently on his shoulder, a confirmation that you were having a good time and trying to ease his awkwardness. 

“Yeah, people have once or twice.” 

“Good. They really are cute.” 

The pink of Soonyoung’s cheeks grew into a deep red as he led you into the bar. The walls were covered in decaying pieces of paper written with words people had to get out for comfort. The smell was like the oldest library on earth, with a tinge of vanilla and vodka ringing through. 

Your brain took a moment to be present and remember all of the bad dates of your past. Maybe this wasn’t a date of your future, but if it was, he had already exceeded your expectations. 

As the waitress took your order, one Body Electric for your new friend a legit inspiration from Walt

Whitman to your choice which was a play on a Sylvia Plath poem. 

“Are you a lightweight?” 

You looked at Soonyojng not even halfway through his drink, feeling the ease and warmth of his body next

to you. 

“How can you tell?” 

“You relaxed for the first time tonight.” 

“I was nervous to hangout with you. I’m sorry. You’re just cool and pretty and I don’t know I feel like you’re way smarter than me and I’m intimidated by that sober” 

“I’m sure that’s not true. But if it’s any help I was nervous too.” 

“Really? So I have game?” 

“No. But you’re so cute I’d die if I hurt your feelings.” 

“So you’re a lightweight too?” 

“What? No way. Just honest to a fault.” 

Soonyoung smiled into the rim of his glass before taking his final sip and prompting you to finish your drink quickly, which you happily obliged. 

“Okay, on the way there.. I have to admit something. The party we’re going to is for the girl I liked before she got with this guy… it’s like unrequited love in a way.” 

“The girl you said you don’t love anymore?” 

“Yeah. I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I just wanted to see you again so I thought it was a good idea.” 

“I’m down. I’m not sure what, but I’m down.” 

“Cool.” 

“Want me to pretend to be your girlfriend? Or? I feel like it would be weird to say we were on a first date.” 

“Is this a date?” 

“Is it not?” 

“It was meant to be and it definitely is now.” 

“So pretend girlfriend, Soony?” 

“Maybe not an official girlfriend, how about… fourth date?” 

“Okay, have we had sex?” 

Soonyoung choked on his own spit which caused the two of you to end up in a fit of laughter on the street as you reached your next destination. 

“Obviously.” 

“That’s fair. I’ll tell everyone you were good.” 

“I think I love you.” 

“Shut up.” 

After spending the night waltzing around and parading your further long relationship with your fake new boyfriend to his friends in hopes to prove his fondness for his newest engaged friend has gone away even slightly. 

While maybe you were pretending to be on a date with Soonyoung, your head was spinning. If this was a fake date it was better than any date you had previously. Stepping outside to take a break from the party inside you pulled out your phone, jotting down notes and small nuggets of information you learned about Soonyoung’s past wedding experiences. 

“Taking notes on me? What are you a PI?” 

Behind you, you hadn’t realized the door you snuck out of opened and the boy had followed behind, curious if you were okay. 

“Yeah, you’re under investigation for being overly nice. Sorry.” 

“What do they say? I didn’t read them, just saw my name.” 

“Just some antidotes I want to remember. Nothing crazy.” 

“Do you want to leave? I’m starting to reach my alcohol limit and I would rather die than have you see my drunk alter ego the first time we hung out.” 

“Yeah, come on, let's go.” 

Going back through the back exit, you tripped behind Soonyoung’s tall frame grabbing onto his shoulder and giggling before he stood in the way of you hitting the ground. 

His lips were curled into a goofy smile. 

“I swear to god if you say something about me falling for you, you will get punched.” 

“How did you know?” 

“That fucking goofy smile you have on your face right now, I could just see it brewing in that head of yours.” 

“Okay, I don’t like that you’ve already figured me out. Let’s go, klutz.” 

Before you and Soonyoung could exit back into the fresh air, a familiar face appeared in front of you. Your ex boyfriend. Something about this night clicked for you, it was his party, there were so many people around and the only person from the wedding party you met was the bride. But taking a breath in and looking around the room, you realized how stupid you were to not see all the signs that this party was for him. 

“Y/n? Hoshi? Hey, how have you guys been?” 

Soonyoung still holding his arm around your shoulder gave a small back and fourth look between you and the tall boy who knew your name. 

“You guys know each other?” 

“Yep. Hi, Jihoon.” 

“I didn’t know you knew Hoshi either?” 

“Oh well we just started dating, he invited me to come hangout.” 

“Dating? Wow. I didn’t know you had time for people outside of work anymore.” 

“Jihoon, if you don’t mind we have to go now. Thank you for the open bar and this amazing time chatting, congratulations on marrying your hookup. Goodnight.” 

The start of your walk with Soonyoung was pure silence, there was an obvious elephant in the room and you could tell he was just itching to talk about it, so you decided to prompt him. 

“You’re curious aren’t you.” 

“Yes. But I don’t want to ask you to talk about it because we’re having fun. So I figured I’d try to ignore it.” 

“It’s fine. I’m curious too actually, it’s kind of funny that the girl you liked was hooking up with my boyfriend and now they’re married. And by funny I mean actually funny and we just spent the whole night not knowing that.” 

“I didn’t even know that Jihoon had a girlfriend when they first met, he never said anything about it.” 

“I don’t blame him actually, I do work way too much. I just wished he’d broken up with me instead of cheating on me for a month.” 

“When did you guys break up?” 

“Last December.” 

“Oh.” 

“It was more than a month wasn’t it?” 

“I think so.” 

“Cool, cool, cool.” 

“That’s fucked up y/n, I’m so sorry.” 

“That’s okay, we weren’t supposed to be together and his new girlfriend or future wife whatever seems like she’s really nice.” 

“She is, but she’s too nice. She does everything he wants, maybe he couldn’t handle your independence.” 

“Soony. You caught on that I’m a bad bitch?” 

“Have you met yourself?” 

“No. But, if I did I’d be obsessed with her and hate her at the same time.” 

“That’s exactly how I feel.” 

You punched his side, before stopping and realizing you had come up to your front door. Not even worried about the way your feet were aching to get out of your heeled shoes. 

“This is me.” 

“I know. I’ve been here like three times now in less than twenty-four hours. I’m starting to believe you actually think I’m stupid.” 

“Not stupid. Just silly. I’ll see you again right?” 

“I mean I did put days on your calendar to schedule out time for me.” 

“You littl-“ 

Suddenly you were cut off by Soonyoung’s hand covering your mouth to put a stop to you cursing him out. 

“I won’t take no for an answer.” 

Sinking your teeth into his hand he retreated from his momentary confidence quickly, looking at the proud smile you were sporting, pointing your well manicured finger in his face. 

“Don’t tell women to shut up, Soony.” 

“I never said shut up, you were going to call me a mean name and I’m sensitive. Go back to calling me cute.” 

“Maybe. Next time.” 

You went in for a one armed hug when all of the sudden Soonyoung came in with both arms, clinking your heads together. 

“Very smooth.” 

He liked the fact that you constantly teased him while making light of situations, regaining his confidence he pulled you into his embrace enveloping both arms around your shoulders, placing a small kiss on the part of your forehead that crashed into his. 

“I’ll see you next week.” 

“What’s next week?” 

“The wedding, check your planner. Well actually I’ll see you in two nights because we have to shop or go through your closet so we can match! Bye, y/nie.” 

Caught off guard by the kiss on your head and watching him hail a cab like it was nothing, you couldn’t help but smile on your way into your building, met by Max at the front desk beaming as wide as you and giving you a wink.  Knowing that he saw the cute and awkward interaction you shared with the hyper hamster outside. 

The two days in between you and Soonyoung’s first official interaction, you felt yourself looking forward to seeing him again and being in his presence like your own personal serotonin boost. 

The insane fact that your ex was marrying the girl he cheated on was enough, but the girl being Soonyoung’s painful crush? Especially when you felt he was becoming yours was beyond insane. 

You made up separate drafts of your article about the people who make weddings shine, from the families, the bridal parties. the insane bachelor and bachelorette nights, and mainly Soonyoung’s love for love. 

The two works of nonfiction were from different perspectives, one being your head and one being your heart. You couldn’t decide if it was appropriate to present a piece basically claiming how amazing you found Soonyoung for the whole world to see when you’re not even sure if he’d ever consider you to be more than a silly writer girl y/n, his friend or fake girlfriend. Your other was from the space of practicality, a genuine love letter to your career and the person who inspired this story, but also digging deep into the ideals of how frantic and selfish the wedding industry can be and what it means for an unmarried friend to take in burdens constantly for their loved ones when it takes a toll on their own heart. 

The biggest debate in your body was the fact the real article, the one you wanted to write, was at the fault of someone who had only in the short space of two days made you feel again, but it was honest and genuine. 

You knew Soonyoung had to have some pain working and being a part of a wedding for the girl he saw himself marrying. 

Luckily you have another few days to decide which way it’ll go. 

Sitting on the thought of what one you should put out, you were awoken out of your thought bubble to a string of buzzes from your cell phone sitting face down on your desk. 

None other than the boy that had been living in your head for the past 48 hours. 

Soonyoung’s texts were multiple lines of photos and silly messages asking you which outfit he should wear that could match any of the dresses you had hanging in your closet for the wedding. 

One of the options was a beige suit, simple in theory but something about the way he styled it with a funky sage green t-shirt and matching sneakers made you smile. Even if you didn’t have anything to match this outfit you would make an effort to go out and spruce up your wardrobe to be on his level. 

After quickly responding that it was your choice, he retorted back in his true fashion you’d have to send him your options too or he’d come over to help you. 

In a desperate subconscious way you agreed to his antics. 

Now nearly an hour later a call came from the front desk that a visitor had arrived asking for consent he could come upstairs which you happily agreed assuming it was none other than Soonyoung himself. The person on the opposite side of the door was not the sharp eyed boy you’d expected, but Jihoon. 

“Why are you here?” 

“I wanted to see you after the other night, I just wanted to say hey.” 

“Okay? Then text me. Don’t come over unannounced, I have a friend I’m expecting.” 

“You wouldn’t have responded.” 

“That’s true.” 

Standing with your arms crossed in your doorway not letting Jihoon into the now redecorated apartment you once had let him live in, you weren’t budging on your gut feeling to let him in and talk. 

“Can I come in?” 

“Like I said. I’m expecting a friend. So.. no.” 

“Who? Hoshi? You guys aren’t seriously together? He’s not your type, too goofy.” 

“Isn’t he your friend?” 

“He’s Nana’s friend, but he’s okay. I’m just saying it's not your style.” 

Nana? A stupid nickname for his fiance who’s name was simply Anna. So as you rolled your eyes and shut your apartment door behind you as you stepped into the hallway as a clear defining factor he was not welcome you stood far apart from him as a line in the sand. 

“He’s not goofy. He’s sweet and yes he’s on his way so maybe you should leave before saying anything else so he doesn’t get the wrong idea.” 

Jihoon wavered a bit, looking towards the elevator door at the end of the hall as if like a movie Soonyoung would walk out of the elevator at the mention he was on his way over. 

“Maybe take the stairs. I’ll see you at your wedding with my date.” 

Rushing in and slamming the door in his face, you sink to the floor in a moment of pure exhaustion over interacting with someone like your ex. 

Why wasn’t Soonyoung right for you? Why did you not want that to be true? And why were you so dead set on proving him absolutely wrong? 

In your rush of emotions another knock came to your door. Without looking through the peephole you swung it open rapidly. 

“Look I told you to g- oh, Soonyoung! Thank god.” 

Your body made a move before your head could even catch up as you ended up hugging him tightly, rushing him inside as if Jihoon didn’t get the message and was watching in from a hidden spot in the corridor. 

“Y/N are you okay?” 

“Yes. Sorry, someone just came over that I did not want to see. Welcome.” 

You watched as his eyes took in the view of your pink and green splattered apartment, things like funky vases full of wildflowers, plant tendrils floating down from shelves tucked between books of various sizes and ages, a small nook with sleeping white and black cat hid inside snuggling into his stuffed toy. 

“I love it here.” 

“Really? I redecorated recently, it was cold before. I love it now.” 

“Also it smells amazing, do you bake? It smells like cookies and coffee. Wow.” 

“I do not bake, but I do have candles that give the illusion. What’s in the bag?” 

Soonyoung set a small black duffle bag down on the counter and began pulling the contents out one by one, showing them off like a beauty guru. 

Wine, five small bags of potato chips, beer Incase you didn’t like wine and he was unsure, a slice of delicious looking chocolate cake, and a container marked with your name of his moms homemade soup. 

“Why did you do this?” 

“I thought we would have fun while picking out matching outfits. Will you let me see your closet? Please, please, please. I’m so curious.” 

“It’s not that impressive at all.” 

“If your apartment looks like this then I have only the highest expectations for you.” 

Smiling, you jokingly made a come on motion with your fingers and led him into your spare bedroom that now existed as a half home office and half closet. 

His eyes took in even more of your fun design work, the racks of records, pictures of you and your friends, and one of the things that made him feel like he could fall in love with you, your rack full of limited edition shoes and bags. 

“Not impressive? You have some of the coolest shit I’ve ever seen in here?” 

“I’m just a girl with a cat and a lot of time on my hands. Since being single I’ve just spent it on shopping and ordering take out.” 

“If you don’t mind me asking what were you and Jihoon like together? You guys seem really opposite to me.” 

There it was again, someone not right for you. Was it just in your head that you think maybe you’re the problem of why this comment is being made? 

“Uh, we were okay at first. We met in college about three weeks before graduation and spent so much time together. But if I think about it, we just hung out in his dorm where I watched him play video games and watch anime even though I was not interested. I kind of wish I was more outspoken about it. I missed a bunch of things my friends had done wasting away on his futon drinking shitty cheap alcohol and waiting on him hand and foot and whatever else.” 

“Really? So you guys dated for a long time I guess. Did it change a lot once you got out?” 

“Not really. A lot of people knew we were ‘dating’ but in the time that we did, we probably went on one or two actual dates.” 

“That makes me sad actually.” 

“Why? I made the choice to do all those things. At least I don’t have an ugly poster of John Lennon on my wall just to show I loved him.” 

Soonyoung was set off by that, laughing and imagining you having a photo of a musician on your wall to impress your boyfriend. 

“What’s so funny? Haven’t you done anything embarrassing to impress a girl?” 

“Definitely. Too many to choose from actually.” 

“At least you're charming, I came off as obsessive and stupidly in love. Not a good look for me.” 

“Caring too much is never a bad thing when you think you’re in love and you’re charming too.” 

“Why thank you good sir.” 

“And you’re weird. Which personally is a green flag for me. I didn’t expect that from you actually.” 

“Is that a compliment though, really?” 

“For me? Yes. I don’t like normal people well, not normal people I guess, just people who have no personality or something I can learn from. I want someone as a friend or whatever else to challenge me a little, it’s healthy.” 

“I think that’s really cool of you, I agree. I like people that are willing to try new stuff or get me out of my comfort zone.” 

“Was showing me your office a way of me getting you out of your comfort zone?” 

“Sort of. This is kind of like my safe haven.” 

Soonyoung just gave you a wide toothed smile, beaming from ear to eat that you admitted he was even just slightly somewhat of your type. 

As the night went on and on the boy that has now broken down a couple of your walls, not quickly but brick by brick was sitting comfortably next to your cat curled up in the same manor helping you pick out something that would go with his two outfits, one for the wedding itself and one for the rehearsal dinner which he promised you that you’d only eat and leave to have more fun just out of respect for the couple and his friend Anna. 

Now each of you taking the bottle of wine he brought slowly, sitting on your floor surrounded by shoes and loose pairs of pants, giggling over nothing he stared in your eyes almost like you could read that he had another interrogating question. 

“Was Jihoon the one at the door before?” 

“How did you kno–” 

“I can’t remember you mentioning anybody that would come over unannounced and make you look as upset as you did.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Do you know why he was here?” 

“He just gave me some stupid antidote that he wanted to see me after the other day, I didn’t ask further. When I told him I had a friend coming over he just knew it was you for some reason and then told me we couldn’t be dating seriously because you’re not my type? As if he’d know? It was weird all around.” 

“Do you still have feelings for him?” 

“No. I realized once we broke up and now after knowing he was cheating on me more than a few nights that it was an amazing decision. When we first ended it I just kicked him out and ghosted all his texts, he used to update me on his life every now and again, the last time we talked for real, before today he called me crying that his Grandmother was sick, so we just had a brief talk and it ended for real there. I genuinely never thought I’d see him again.” 

“Also, am I your type?” 

Ss wine dribbled down your chin you were once again surprised by Soonyoung’s random fit of confidence. 

“Yeah. You’re nice and I love how annoying you are. I think you get under my skin in the best way.” 

“Wow. I’m surprised you admitted it.” 

“What can I say, wine drunk y/n is honest.” 

“And what about my physical type? Sexy, cool, handsome, the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen?” 

Taking a note from his book you swung your closest arm to him, you clipped your fingers over his mouth and shut him up. 

Much to your surprise he took a note from your book and instead of biting your hand he stuck his tongue through his lips and licked your fingers which caused you to lunge towards him further, jokingly pissed he did just so. 

As you were fighting for comedic relief you sat suddenly face to face with him holding onto your wrists to resist more thrash fighting. 

The two of you stared at each other filling the room with intense tension of your lips being so close once again. 

“If I knew you wouldn’t be mad at me I’d kiss you right now.” 

“Soonyoung, you’re so stupid. Why would I be mad at you?” 

“So I can kiss you?” 

“Nope.” 

Soonyoung pushed his bottom lip out from his top, replacing his cute puppy face with a pouty one. 

You decided to quickly dive in and pace a peck on his protruding bottom lip. 

He immediately let you go and erupted into a fit of giggles like a little kid, as you tried to sneak away quickly he grabbed onto the arm of your sweatshirt which you quickly unzipped and slipped out of, running through the door of your office and into the rest of the house as he chased behind. 

“You have to know I’m going to catch you for that, that was so mean y/n.” 

As you were winning the fight, getting away from the boy chasing you around, you suddenly tripped up and felt his hand grasp your shoulder, turning you around with secret strength. 

Standing face to face with him now, your stubbed toe throbbing through your fuzzy socks, you both were holding in a whole lot of laughter. 

Soonyoung’s hand slipped behind your head and pulled you in for a much more romantic type of kiss than you gave him before. The two of you touched lips softly, as your smiles were still prominent on your faces. 

Before anything could escalate further your phone began to ring again and your boss's name was plastered over the front, which you answered with panting breaths still in a haze from kissing the boy you made you feel young again. 

“y/n? Hi, would you be able to send over a draft of your article you begged me for? We were looking for something to print for tomorrow if you’re interested? I’ll have someone expedite the editing process tonight.” 

“Oh, shit. Yeah of course, I’ll rush and email it to you now.” 

“Thank you, congratulations y/n.” 

“Thank you. Bye.” 

Oh my god, Soony, stay here. I have to email my boss quickly about my article, she wants to print it for tomorrow's paper. I’ll be right back.” 

“What? Congratulations. But don't worry, I’m not leaving.” 

“Good, sorry, be right back.” 

Rushing back into your office you flipped open your computer and sent your final article draft, choosing the one that your gut felt would be better for your personal life at the moment, especially after the kiss you just shared with the boy it was about. 

Typing a quick message along with your attachment you just said a big thank you and clicked send before grabbing the half drank bottle off the floor and ran back to Soonyoung munching on a bag of chips waiting for you. 

“Shall we celebrate?” 

“What are we celebrating?” 

“Me, idiot. I’ve been trying to get a real article published ever since I got the job doing weddings. I love weddings, but always being so happy and cheerful and not getting a chance to stretch my creative juices is frustrating.” 

“Can we also celebrate kissing? That seems more fun.” 

“Shut up, asshole.” 

Taking a swig from the bottle, you passed it over to your male counterpart and watching him take an equally large drink matching your energy. 

You and Soonyoung spent the rest of the night talking about how tomorrow will go, where will you and he be sitting, will Jihoon be giving you side eyes or talking shit with some of the other guests. How nice of a chance it’ll be to experience a wedding simply just enjoying with someone on your side and not for work. 

After sitting in bed and still thinking about your kiss with Soonyoung many hours later, you saw a text from your boss letting you know she loved the article and to watch out for it in the morning. 

When that finally rolled around, you woke up to a lot of messages congratulating you and your new found success, many people from college, your parents, but the one person you were looking for was nowhere to be found in those texts. 

Putting the praise aside for a moment, you slipped back out of your bed to jump into the shower and start getting ready for your dinner celebrating the devil that was your ex. 

When you stepped out and went to grab onto your device once again you saw a text from the one person you were most excited to read, but it was less than exciting. Soonyoung expressed how upset the article made him and accused you of using him to further your career, something Jihoon supposedly warned him of the night of his pre-wedding party and he chose to ignore. 

Confused why he would be so upset about your praise for him, you ran to your front door and ripped open the pages of the paper only to find the article that you sent was a mistake, it was the one shitting on weddings, basically claiming Soonyoung himself was an unmarried loser, not in those words but you could see why it came across that way. Some of the simple moments of praise for his hard work were cut out in the editing room, only leaving the small bits of gossip and harsh criticisms sprinkled in between. 

Rushing back inside as your stomach sank to the floor you tried his number three times before getting no answer. Which made you frantically dial your boss’s number and interrogate her on why parts of your article were cut out, she simply answered that fluff doesn’t sell and she was proud of you. 

Soonyoung not responding had let you in on the fact that he wasn’t going to be seeing you today or maybe even seeing anybody for that matter, he was embarrassed and rightfully so. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Continuing your quest on trying to reach him, you decided to still get ready for your night out, maybe not in the intense matching outfit way you wanted to last night, but just something where you could sneak into Jihoon’s wedding party and slide Soonyoung the real article you wanted him to read. 

Running down the street to the venue with no accurate directions in sight, you saw your ex standing on a corner, smoking a brown wrapped joint in his suit. 

“Jihoon. Jihoon.” 

“What? Back to grovel for a favor?” 

“Yes, please, just give this to Soonyoung for me. Please, I’ve never asked you for a favor like this, just once do something for me.” 

“You’re really serious about him?” 

“I am.” 

“So you didn’t mean to slam him in the article like you did?” 

“No. My boss cut out the good parts of the article, this was the one I meant to send. Just for me. I want you to be happy, Jihoon, I do. I want it for myself too, just please give it to him. Make sure he reads it.” 

“Okay.” 

“I know we haven’t had the best past and I know I'm coming here askin- Wait? Okay? Really?” 

“Yeah. I can tell this means a lot to you and the reason I came over today was just to formally invite you to the wedding. You’re a big part of my life and now Soonyoung’s, well maybe, besides the point. My fiance is one of his best friends, she liked you too, that was the only reason.” 

“Oh. Well I don’t think I’ll make it.” 

“How about you come on official business and give this to him yourself?” 

“No. I couldn’t do that. It’s your day not mine.” 

“We both deserve a big love, y/n.” 

Taking back your enveloped letter, you couldn’t help but be impressed by how mature Anna had made Jihoon become and you knew he was right. Sometimes love just falls in your lap and you can’t do anything about it. 

Ashing out his joint, he handed you the other half as an olive branch to celebrate old times and bid you goodbye until tomorrow. 

Before going back inside, he turned to you with one final wish. 

“You better look damn good tomorrow too, no suits. Wear something nice to confess your feelings, otherwise you’ll look like a dumbass.” 

“Got it.” 

Catching your breath and shoving the letter and paraphernalia back into your purse, you decided to take Jihoon’s advice. To look amazing, you stumbled upon a shop called ‘All's Well that Ends Well.’ situation just a block down from the poetry inspired bar Soonyoung took you to just a few days before. 

Stepping inside the store, the first thing you saw was a navy blue dress, the halter neckline and the silk straight flowing down to the floor, you knew it was meant for you. Especially because it would match the light pink suit Soonyoung was meant to be sporting with you by his side. The easiest shopping experience of your life. 

As the sales associate packed your order up and sealed it with a light pink bow, you knew it was a sign or something of the sort. 

With less than twenty-four hours of doing the most insane thing of your life, confessing to a man who essentially hated you after you had been kissing just hours before, you stayed up all night, using the weed that Jihoon gave you to stay focused on the task at hand, you almost considered cutting of your hair to enter a new era of your life, but only girls who were going through something would consider that and you attempted to tell yourself you were calm. 

When the morning sun rang around you finished writing a letter to match the one already placed in the envelope to accompany your sorry. You even decorated the outside with stickers of tigers and spongebob characters just to make Soonyoung smile. 

Sliding into your navy blue dress and silver heels, your hair was down and curled into perfect waves. You kissed your cat on the head and made your way over to the venue by foot, just to give yourself a little fresh air and piece of mind, hoping to slip in early enough so that you’d be seated before he even knew you came. 

Slipping into a space near the back of the room on Jihoon’s side, you opened your phone to an encouraging text from him telling you that you’ve got this and he’s excited to hear more about it later, plus reminding you to have fun and enjoy yourself. 

As the progression started you watched along with the other wedding goers, catching glimpses of Jihoon’s smiling family, which made your heart feel warm. 

As the wedding part waltz down the aisle in their pastel pink suits and rosy toned dresses, you saw a now blonde again head appear on the arm of a girl who looked a lot like Anna, so it was fair to assume it was her sister. 

Soonyoung didn’t glance your way, but something about the change in his demeanor made you aware he knew you had come. 

“Everyone please rise for the bride.” 

Anna walked out with her father on her arm, floating across the room like an angel in white. Her dress was adorned with small beaded flowers from the tips of her fingers down to the vail over her blonde hair. 

She was truly beautiful, you couldn’t help but feel like a peasant in the room with this woman who both of the men you had either once had feelings for or now did once loved. 

The whole ceremony was beautiful, but you missed a lot of it as you stared Soonyoung’s way trying to catch his eyes, but he never met yours. He was too busy enjoying the fact that his friends were getting married and the fact you had upset him. 

When the ceremony ended you followed the other guests to the front of the church, holding your envelope in your hand and greeting the bride and groom, Anna and Jihoon beamed at you before she pointed her finger to a room off the side of the front door, some sort of administration office where Soonyoung would be waiting for you. Which also told you Jihoon had filled her in on your little plan. 

You cracked open the old wooden door, trying to be subtle but the rotting wood creaked under the old floor boards making your entrance more known than you would’ve liked. 

Soonyoung was seated in a red leather chair to the side of the desk, his now blonde hair meeting your eyes before his face. Not giving in to turn around and look at you. 

“Soonyoung? I know you probably don’t want to speak to me. But, this was the real article. It was never meant to be that way. I’m sorry.” 

You placed the letter in front of him on the desk and moved to turn back to the door before you heard his voice. 

“So you didn’t mean all those mean things you wrote about me? That I was a desperate groomsman waiting for his shot to have a day for himself?” 

“No.” 

“You didn’t mean to say that my ostentatious nature was cringe worthy?” 

“Not in that way no, my boss cut out all the good things I said about you. She put it in her own words for dramatic effect. I quit this morning.” 

“You quit? Why?” 

“I wanted to try to make this right in the best way I could, she wouldn’t reprint the article how I wrote it and told me that if I didn’t like her style I should get a job somewhere else. So I quit.” 

Soonyoung just nodded, he couldn’t imagine why you would give up a golden opportunity just to prove your boss wrong or right for that matter all because of him. The only way he could make sense of what you were saying is that you were truly sorry and you cared about him. 

He made a bold move and threw the letter in the trash can to the side of the old oak desk and got out of his chair to hug you. 

“You’re not going to read it.” 

Speaking into his shoulder, you got a calming exhale of his cologne. 

“I don’t need to. I know you're telling me the truth, you said it yourself you don’t lie when you drink wine, and I can smell it on your breath.” 

Slipping your hands up from their place around his neck into his hair you giggled slightly, looking at the now dyed blonde locks of hair. 

“You dyed it back?” 

“You said you liked it. I thought you’d be my date and I had the appointment so I didn’t want to cancel.” 

“You weren’t hoping I’d show up here?” 

“I knew you would. I saw you talking to Jihoon outside last night through the window. I wasn’t sure exactly because you did walk away and he never told me what happened. But, when I saw you today sitting in the crowd. I knew my inkling was right.” 

“Did the cohesive outfit impress you? I missed one night, but I hope I made up for it today.” 

Soonyoung pushed you away slightly by your shoulders and made you do a spin for him. 

“You look beautiful.” 

“You’re such a dork.” 

Soonyoung playfully swung you around in the office covered in photos of church go-ers and crosses, bringing you into his chest tightly. 

“So, what did you write in that article? That I was devilishly handsome and cool?” 

“Nope. Just that you were a bad kisser.” 

“Seems like you need a reminder.” 

“Maybe.” 

As your lips met Soonyoungs once again your heart sank into your stomach and was beating rapidly. You just fit and he never once doubted your heart. 

“What do you say? Should we go outside and dance?” 

“Can you even dance?” 

“Y/n? Can I even dance? What do you even think I do for a living?” 

“Oh. I’m such an idiot. Anna works at a talent agency. Got it.” 

“Come on, silly. Before our audience outside gets bigger.” 

When you exited the office back into the group of people outside, for some reason Jihoon started a cheer alongside his new wife. 

Soon you and Soonyoung were dancing the night away and drinking a little too much than your stomachs could handle. 

When you finally got a moment of dizzy drunkenness alone, he had you sitting on a bench where he knelt to the ground. Your mouth got the better of you once again. 

“Oh my god you're not proposing already are you I mean I know I’m amaz-” 

“Y/n shut up, I’m tying my shoe.” 

“Cool, cool. Got it.” 

“But the next wedding I attend hopefully I’ll be the groom.” 

With a wink Soonyoung sat back at your side as you watched the stars together, making a mental note that the next wedding would belong to the both of you.

taglist: @sahazzy

[boynarcing]

A Certain Euphoria

leon s. kennedy x male!reader

wc. 1.7k

cw. incest, dad/son incest, OOC(duh), implied abuse, alcoholism, mutual interest (mostly from reader in this one), internalized homophobia

note. sort of continuation from this fic right here… no smut (yet) sorry but uhm there are some implied sexual acts? also the writing is kind of boring I think .. sorry excuse how bland it is please lol… feedback always appreciated :3 || title is A Certain Euphoria by Strange Boutique

You squirm, wriggle your hips and scoot your bottom back, but no matter whatever you try to do, you can’t seem to find a comfortable position on the thick muscle of your father’s thigh.

Yeah, his lap.

You were on your dad’s lap at your grown age. Willingly, too.

It didn’t take much for him to be able to coax you, just some sweet words and playful teasing and you were at his beck and call like a mindless dog.

That’s normal though, isn’t it? To be this close with your dad. You’d rather he baby and coddle you than beat you, which is why you try your best to stay on his good side. It doesn’t take much to set him off; one small, snide comment and he starts bugging out like a gas station cokehead. Plus, it’s not good for an old man like him. His heart could give out or something. Who’d take care of you then? Not your mom, that’s for sure.

Large hands steady your hips, squeezing gently.

“Relax,” Leon coos, nosing your nape, the action making you shiver. He’s so touchy, so brazen. A part of you flusters, unsure of what to make of his attention. It’s sweet, but it makes you feel dirty. Not gross dirty, but an “I feel like I shouldn’t be this close to my dad” type of dirty. You’re a boy, after all, aren’t you? Boys don’t get all sappy and sit on each other’s laps. Maybe you should be more worried about the dad part, though. Being gay is the least of your worries, and not something you should think about at this point in your life.

“Sorry,” You mumble, heat searing your cheeks, making you sweat. “I’m just kinda uncomfy.” Honesty is the best policy, you remind yourself. Pushing back against your dad, you turn your head slightly to nuzzle your cheek against his chest apologetically, acutely aware of the fact that you had accidentally bumped your ass into his groin. Your heart skips a beat, but dad doesn’t say anything, simply tightening his hold on you and kissing your cheek, making you wilt with disappointment.

“Gonna have to deal with it,” Leon grumbles, arms wrapping around your waist, keeping you caged against him. “I want you close.”

You let out a huff, but otherwise say nothing. It’s sweet, you think. Your old man has quite the soft spot for you, and you don’t want to overthink his intentions, so you stay put and rest the back of your head against his firm chest, eyes focused on the TV ahead. One of Leon’s hands slips from your waist to your belly, fingers squeezing gently at the soft skin, coaxing out a sharp inhale from you.

Your hands follow, meekly grabbing onto your dad’s hand and tugging feebly, halting those curious fingers. “Don’t do that,” Your brows pinch together, a mixture of embarrassment and warmth pooling in your lower abdomen and down there. It’s just instinctual, you think. You hope. You can’t control yourself when it comes to stuff like that. You’re just sensitive is all. You can’t get touched in certain places or ways without pitching a tent. You just can’t.

This brings you back to your first time in the locker room with the guys. Some random boy had patted you on the hip playfully, but his hand had lingered for a tad bit longer than you would’ve liked, and you swore he gave you a little squeeze too. Needless to say, it was humiliating when everyone noticed your poor attempt at hiding the boner that had decided to pop through your underwear.

Word had somehow got out too, and dad ended up hearing about it. He went on the whole “boys your age go through changes” spiel, and you almost considered suicide that night.

Anyways.

Leon takes offense to your attempt at redirecting him, his grip growing strict. He doesn’t scold you, much to your surprise. He just looks at you as if you were a child throwing a fit, brief amusement swelling in his eyes. “I’m your dad,” he says. Yeah, you know that, dad, and the sky is blue. “don’t gotta be embarrassed around me, tiger.” You cringe at the nickname, face scrunching up as if something sour had snuck its way into your mouth. He squeezes again, and you gasp this time.

“Yeah, no, I know, but-“

“But nothing,” Leon cuts you off, pinching your side and making you squeak.

You focus on the lingering sting instead of complaining, hand trying to soothe the irritated skin with small rubs. “Sorry,” You mumble, eyes fluttering shut when he squeezes again and again. Over and over.

His pinkie dips beneath your waistband, and you start to feel your head go fuzzy, your briefs tightening painfully around the crotch area. It hurts so good, and your hips twitch upwards involuntarily, seeking friction. Oh god, you’re going crazy and he’s not even doing anything that provocative.

Touch my dick, touch my dick, please.

He doesn’t. Instead, his hand slides over to your chest, fingers splayed out to feel as much of you as he could. Disgruntled, you pout, letting out a weary sigh and slumping against your dad in defeat, his hard chest pressing into your back. His body isn’t what it used to be, softened after years of drinking, but you can feel what slight muscle he has left. For a guy his age, he should be proud, you’ll give him that.

He leans forward and rests his chin on the top of your head, the weight making you tilt downwards slightly. His hand movements still and you frown, confused. It’s silent for a minute, the only sounds in the room coming from the television’s stereo. Some cheesy flick is playing on screen. A girl chews her gum lazily before popping it, eyeing a male character coquettishly as he speaks. You can’t bring yourself to focus on the corny dialogue, lost in thought.

The silence draws out, and for a moment, you think you’ve done something wrong, but then dad speaks, his voice gruff and his eyes fixated on the film ahead, “Think you can get me another cold one, sweetheart?”

You can’t say no to that. Not if you want to keep your face looking pretty.

You nod, giving an anxious little hum before scooting off his lap. Leon taps his foot impatiently, glancing over at you pointedly as you scurry off to the kitchen.

The lack of warmth makes you shiver, goosebumps spreading across your skin when the icy air within the fridge lashes at you. The top layer is the only one that isn’t scarce, filled to the brim with the kind of alcohol dad likes, some of the bottles gifted by his suck-up coworkers. You can tell by the rich designs on the front and the fancy fonts (and definitely not by his habit of skimping out on things). One of them still has a bow attached around the neck. A charming man is a charming man, you suppose.

You take the easiest one to open and rush back, handing Leon the bottle before hopping onto his lap again, sighing in relief when his body heat starts to seep into you once more. Your ears manage to catch the small grunt he makes when he unscrews the cap and brings the opened top to his mouth. The large gulp that follows makes you lick your lips, a subconscious craving for something to quench your thirst. Water sounds nice right now, you think.

Eyes flickering back to the TV, you try to follow along with the poor plot, only to startle and yelp when cold glass is shoved and squeezed between your thighs, the alcohol bottle held upright.

“Dad-“

“Shh,” Leon shushes, tugging at a few locks of your hair near the back of your head, a silent warning. “The table’s too far to reach from here. Just hold it for me, okay?”

You make sure to squeeze your thighs together extra tight now, not wanting the bottle to slide out of your grip. That’d be life-ending. “…’kay.” You nod, feeling heat tingle all over your face, melting down to your chest. You squirm slightly, trying to get used to the cold somehow without being too dramatic. Leon notices, and he clicks his tongue in disapproval, annoyed by your fidgeting.

With a swift movement, he brings the bottle back and slides it up your inner thighs until it presses firmly against your crotch. Luckily, your shorts protect you from the full extent of the chilly surface, but some of it manages to seep through the fabric. A soft whimper slips through your parted lips, but you don’t complain. You can’t, you remind yourself. Besides, you’re grateful he doesn’t shove it up your ass instead, because he could, and he would.

You try to focus on your task as a drink holder and continue to keep dad’s bottle secure between your legs, but no matter how hard you try to be good, you’re unable to keep from squirming and giving subtle pushes with your hips against the glass. You could lie and say you didn’t mean to, but the truth is you just can’t help yourself, not around dad. It’s almost like you’ve got a knack for it. For being a little needy. But that’s not a crime, is it?

Leon’s hand comes down and grips onto the neck of the bottle, yanking it out without second thought to take another swing, ignoring the little “uufh!” that escapes you.

You look back woozily, head fuzzy. Leon’s Adam’s apple bobs as he takes three big gulps, the burn of fresh whiskey making his face screw up funnily. He pats your hip with his freehand, and falls back against the couch with a groan, bringing the bottle down to recline against the armrest on his right. Blinking up at him, you tilt your head in a silent question.

Leon’s gaze lingers on your face for a second or two before he lets his eyes flutter shut, his head lolling back against the couch. “Hmpff,” he yawns, “daddy needs his sleep, kiddo.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he pats the top of your head with a gentle palm before you could even manage to get a word out. You lean into it. you always do. Even if he was dismissing you as if you were a toddler incapable of thinking for yourself.

“Go to bed,” He murmurs groggily, pushing you off his lap with small nudges, “I’ll join you soon…” He’s already snoring.

[r0syr3a]

Letters to lovers

Cliff Burton x Reader

Words: 565

Genre: Fluff and angst

Warnings: Discussion of Cliff's passing and swearing

Author note: omg I can't believe I finally got the balls to start posting my writing RAAAHHH! This is for Isa, aka @metallicaislife, one of my favorite blogs! Jewel anon is finally revealed lol. I did use the wiki page on the tour for the order of where they played so it makes a bit of sense. Now, on with the story~

Dear, Y/N

I knew you'd end up looking into my shirt drawer once I left for tour, so I figured I would leave you a little surprise. I knew you'd miss me too much that you would just HAVE to wear one of my shirts to bed ;)

Alright, I'll stop being a jackass now. You told me how much you love letters so I figured I'd write some for you while I'm on the road. As I'm writing this, I haven't even left yet and I already miss you so much. This is gonna suck mega balls, I know it.

Try and get some sleep and take care of yourself while I'm gone, My Star. I'll try and see you whenever I can and I'll call as often as possible.

Love always, your rock, Cliff.

Dear, Y/N

I hope you enjoyed my first letter, we just made it to St. Louis. I don't know how many of these I'll be able to write and receive just because we'll be moving so fast, but I'll write as many as I can, I pinky promise. (See? I do remember things)

Every show so far has been FUCKING WILD! God, I wish you could be here to see it all, I think you'd love it.

I miss you, Y/N. I don't wanna be sad and sappy but it's true. You're My Star, how am I supposed to be a rockstar without My Star? Right now, I'm just a rock and that's not nearly as cool. I'm gonna stop writing this so I can call you.

I love you always, your rock, Cliff.

Dear, Y/N

Fuck, I'm so sorry. I haven't written in forever. I'll try and do better after these next California shows. At least we'll get to see each other for those, right? It's gonna feel amazing to hug you and finally have you in my arms again. The guys miss you too. Kirk says he needs you to paint his nails again before we leave again like it won't be gone in like three days.

I hope you're taking good care of yourself and I'll see you soon.

Love always, your rock, Cliff

Dear, Y/N

WE'RE IN EUROPE BABE!!!!!

It's honestly so cool, we explored some old castles and shit yesterday. The time zones keep waking me out so I don't know when to try and call you, I'm sorry I haven't.

I have been taking pictures for you though. We could make a little scrapbook with them when I get home! We are currently in Ireland so you best believe we are drinking THE BEST beer ever.

I honestly don't know what to write about. All I know is that I love you and I miss you and I can't wait to come home or at least fly you out for a show in some random country.

Soon, My Star,

I love you always, your rock, Cliff.

Dear, Y/N

Hey, it's Lars. I know you already got the news by the time it gets to you, but I know he'd want me to send it anyway, even if it isn't finished. We'll be there soon. Hang tight, please. We love you.

Dear, Y/N

Europe is officially my favorite. The best breakfasts and the best beers? What more could I need other than you here? I am definitely bringing you here one day. I promise.

[impactdial]

oh god this is kinda embarrassing but i was organizing some phone notes and i’m just dumping a bunch of n/sfw sanuso headcanons here. its not that graphic or anything but sorry in advance lol

-i said this in my other hc post but they’re both vers switches. sanji just tends to be more or less of a sub every time LOL he’s definitely within pathetic sub top territory.

-i think like maybe 7 out of 10 times they have non penetrative sex. not that either of them are opposed to it, it’s more that they both just get too excited and desperate, and touch and grind against each other before the question of getting naked even comes up (this has led to many awkward walk of shames to do laundry discreetly)

-they were absolutely virgins before they started dating (ok but truthfully usopp figured this on his own anyway BUT he was definitely relieved that sanji didn’t have any more of a clue of what to do than he did)

-usopp is really into feeling sanji’s body hair, especially his stomach and his chest. and sanji is a little obsessed with usopps curves and muscles

-ok sorry to indulge but i think sanji would have a praise kink and by extension would be a little into puppy play/collaring. sorry

-lowkey usopp also has a praise kink but he just prefers to indulge sanji more (he gets too embarrassed and in his own head about it sometimes if the focus is strictly just on him)

-kinda related to prev but even though they like to tease each other it never goes that far. they talk very sweet to each other and sanji especially makes it a point to be very affectionate and voice how good he feels with usopp

-usopps got tiny titties (compared to the rest of him anyway) and yet sanji gets so worked up seeing them when usopp doesn’t bind (binding tape specifically) he throws up like an overexcited dog

-they’re both so sappy and a little pathetic during sex ngl. sanji would be DISGUSTED if you called it anything other than love making

-this is also kinda self indulgent but usopp absolutely manhandles sanji during sex and most of the time it’s unintentional. it’s mostly reactionary and he’s just doing what feels good (putting his whole weight onto sanji while on top of him, etc) and sanji loves it. (“if i die, i die. what better way to go” “….man you’re into some weird stuff but ok!”)

-I’m so sorry class but i’m a small schlong sanji believer. nothing else to say i just want everyone to know that

[shydroid3000]

4, 20, 28 for the ask game

Ask game

4. Whats your favorite feeling?

Oh, hmm... There's this feeling where sometimes for just a moment a piece of the world seems so crazy beautiful and joyful that I almost want to cry? Sometimes it happens when one of my cats is cuddled on me extra sweetly and I'm thinking about how much I love them and how lucky I feel to live alongside them lol. Sometimes it's from a really heartwarming interaction with a stranger I'll never see again (you know like when you're in line or walking down the street or something, and one of those genuine-human-connection moments happens?). Sometimes it's watching the birds outside my window, or talking to my sister and just laughing or commiserating about things only we really get, or (so sappy) cuddling with my partner and watching cheesy sci-fi. Half the time I hate existing so these little moments of intense joy are really special to me haha.

20. Tell us about a memory you hold close to your heart.

Because I just mentioned birds, the first thing that came to mind was this: At my old apartment, I had a bird feeder on the balcony, and I also used to leave trails of peanuts for the neighbourhood magpies. (Black-billed Magpies are common where I live, and though they're widely loathed by people here for being ubiquitous and annoying, I fucking love them haha). Anyway, after several months of feeding the birds, I was out on my apartment balcony and one of the neighbourhood magpies came and perched on the rail like a foot away from me and just hung out calmly and looked right at me for a few minutes, and left a little stick in this small flowerpot I had attached to the railing. It was like a dream come true haha.

28. What are you proudest of?

Oh man, this is actually kind of dark, but instead of any like life achievements in academics or work, what comes to mind for me is just... standing up to my shitty dad from a young age lol. Sorry to end on a kind of bleak note haha.

Thanks for the ask!! <33

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

I don't think my accent is the best lol. But if you find it sexy that's a win for me! I'm 6 hours ahead of you.

Don't roll your eyes at me, puppy. I'm happy to give you tasks in the future. If you're so eager to please, you'll be happy to complete them, correct?

Oh really? That's noted. That was much better, so polite! Good job sweetheart. Denial ♡ Tears of desperation, I can't get enough of them. I guess that links into the edging too which I already mentioned. I do like fear play, whether that's enough to bring a sub to tears I'm not actually sure? (can you answer this? It's okay if not.) But I like the fear mixed with the build up of adrenaline.

I'll be sure to check that chapter out. I think it's good to read up on stuff, there's always something new to learn!! And of course it'd be good to learn about you, I'm happy to learn more by reading your fics :)

Switching from talking casually to being in domme mode is PERFECT. I get what you mean by the 'whiplash' I actually love it. Surprising them and making them all confused while they wait for their brain to catch up with itself. Ugh yes.

One thing that's really special for me about being a dom is being able to provide a safe space for someone to be able to be themselves and relax and let go. It's an honor to me when someone feels that safe around me and trusts me that much. A bit sappy, I know.

A trait I like in subs is willingness, if that's the right word? Really wanting to learn, wanting my guidance, wanting to improve and actually get something out of this. I do of course like a bit of cheekiness. And being open to affection. I can be quite doting.

-🍂 (so sorry for the mega long ask oh my I just kept rambling)

Accents are always sexy idc, and good to know!! I have that in my clock app now so i know what time it is for you ◡̈

I'll do what I want... but okay I won't roll my eyes... for now... and yesssss I'll be happy to do tasks!! Wanna prove I can follow commands!! What kinda tasks would you have in mind?

Yeah.. commands are hot... but yippee I did good!! Desperation AND fear play?? You're perfect and I'm getting wet just thinking about that whew- um anyways... have you taken the BDSM test by any chance?

Hehehehe I don't wanna force u to read my stuff or anything so like absolutely no pressure!!! But I'm pretty much an open book in my fics LOL so...

YES with the brain catching up thing it's so fun alsdkjfhaldsjk I'm so happy you understand!! You'll have to try that out on me... I love surprise commands and going from normal brain to puppy brain hehe its so fun and i get so needy from it- Chileeee anyways

That's not sappy at all! It definitely is special to be able to trust someone enough to be submissive with them and hand over control and just be in that mindset without any worries or fears. Trust is sexy i promise!!

I get all blush and shy when I'm complimented but I love it!! I just don't know how to accept compliments cause it feels selfish somehow... idk if that makes sense but whatever. And I am very willing to learn how you work as a dominant, so that's perfect!

Don't apologize for rambling I love it and long asks are my favorite!! Like, someone took time out of their day to send something in this long?? Makes me feel special haha.

[banjjakz]

"oh shit someones already figured it out" hehe i saw right through ur tricks LMAO just thought that gloomy yandere shoko would b Very hot (oh pretty neurotic woman w eyebags... u have captivated me). that was my argument. that one meme that says "my pussy has led me to places i wouldnt even go with a gun" HAHAHA

and abt final girl thoughts... squeezes ur gojo in my hand.... hes so dear to me, in all of his charming asshole and eldritch horror glamour. no cuz the way he chuckles and grins while demeaning reader !! he is not driven by pure love but by deeply rooted obsession, and its only suguru whos at its core- not reader. i love how neither gojo or reader respected each other despite their interactions taking place in the "gojo route". sure it is an otome route but you get no sweet lovin at all! you get literallyreduced to shreds, dissolved into particles scattered across the universe instead! sighs dreamily. anti-otome final girl fanfiction written by banjjakz youre so dear to me........

btw the gojo dsm comment took me out LMAO kinda unrelated but i know psychologists would NOT b welcomed in the jjk world lmao. the stigma around mental health matters between non-sorcerers pales in comparison to how a mental health professional would b treated by a higher-up, for instance. supposing ur goal is to have young sorcerers manage their negative emotions so that they dont go mental and die before they turn 18 then youre unfortunately getting executed for sabotage at best... i remember reading a yuuta fic in which it was mentioned that he had seen a psychologist after the rika incident. makes me wonder if thatd mean hes learnt (within that au) lets say breathing exercises and if he practises them whenever he gets anxious. every other sorcerer watching him like: https://www.tiktok.com/@androidg1rl/video/7291743972991503649

anyways sorry 4 rambling lolll thanks 4 writing final girlll loved it smmm and will be waiting for the secret endings eagerly :> !

no truly like serial bereavement was written for yuuta fans sure whatever but the actual intended audience is the #real sick and twisted individuals with a penchant for off-putting women who lowkey look like they'd be into consensual vivisection

"anti-otome" why am i obsessed with this label LOL wow this is really high praise anon like thank you???? crying.... we are inventing new genres of fiction over here..... just another day on banjjakz.tumblr.com

as for gojo's route, yeah, to be quite honest i can't in good faith imagine him in any lifetime or in any universe with anyone other than suguru. not even in a sappy stsg otp way, but like, just going off of my own personal notes of his characterization.... to me, pairing him with someone else -- even a self-indulgent MC -- would be egregiously out-of-character LOL. this was actually a point of writer's block for me as i was drafting final girl. like, i knew i wanted to tackle satoru. but i also knew there was no way i could convincingly or ethically produce a route where you were the object of his affections. had to take the cowards way out and have him kill you, lol, but at least we get lore? (more will be revealed in the final updates... i promise...)

KJHKSJDK mental healthcare in the sorcery world is actually insane like let's focus on physical healthcare and increasing the life expectancy first maybe

also if you'd like to slide the link to this therapized!yuuta fic.... [eyes emoji]

[karofsky]

to everyone that said something nice to me on Discord or left a comment on (or even just read) my fic today thank you for starting my week off on an incredibly high note <3

I haven't written in far too long due to just... a flurry of physical and mental health issues the last year, so it was truly an act of self-care to dedicate some time away this weekend to grasp at the inspiration when it struck. I had some guilt for stepping away from work for a few days, but I'm incredibly happy I was able to put something out into the world that people enjoyed. Those moments feel so sparse lately as I struggle to get back on my feet, so I try not to take them for granted

anyway, sorry to be sappy on main, but ever since Thursday night I have just been a puddle of emotions, LOL. Love and appreciate y'all so much

[wvffles]

I love this entire series so much, but this chapter specifically is one of my favorites out of everything you’ve written ♥️

sorry in advance to get a bit sad and sappy on the timeline, and for the length of this :’)🫶🏽

my mom and i would watch the one chicago series since before they combined them into one night actually 😅 then it became tradition for us to hunker down on wednesday nights, watch & talk about it together. i’m currently rewatching old episodes of chicago fire and the reruns happened to be on season 7, when kelly’s dad passes. I forgot how triggering those episodes actually are for me though so naturally, I came to binge re-read this lovely series for comfort <3 (also i really missed these two and this universe lol)

honestly I have so many thoughts for each wonderful chapter but I would feel super guilty for spamming :’) this chapter in particular though, hits me harder than anything i’ve ever read before — not in a bad way!🤍

my mom had epilepsy, and I was her caretaker pretty much my entire life. I connect so much with this story because it, feels like i’m reading a mirror, if that makes any sense at all. with all the doctors and the worrying, it’s written so authentically, which is understandable after reading your author’s note. i’m so sorry you’ve experienced such difficult hardships and losses yourself honey, I offer my sincere condolences. and i’m sending you the biggest hugs 🫂🤍🤍

Today was a better day, however, because George was awake. He was also more aware of his surroundings than usual.

And that night, an agreement was made.

In the morning, your grandfather was gone.

now these lines/parts specifically had me crying like a baby lol. december of 2021, my mom had to have surgery at the start of the month. her recovery was going a little slow, but well. however she passed away overnight, 2 days after christmas, completely unexpected. the day before she had been doing so well too— she had more energy and was more mobile without needing as much assistance. came to find out later that’s something nurses call a surge? :/ either way, those moments in particular really tugged at my heartstrings ❤️‍🩹

and i’m so sorry if this is too much, too personal or too heavy. or worse, all of the above 😭 I genuinely am not trying to trauma dump, I just wanted to express what this story means to me :’) i’m also an over explainer at heart, i’m sorry 🥲

“No matter what I did, it wasn’t enough.”

this line too. I felt this way for so long after my mom died. I didn’t get the final cause for a while since she passed at home and not at a hospital, and to this day I wish I could go back. wish I could’ve done something different. but SUDEP (or, sudden unexpected death in epilepsy) is completely unpreventable so far. I just find it so cruel that this illness I spent my whole life helping her with, ended up taking her anyway and nothing I did mattered in the end. so reading that line, how she broke down, and everything she had been holding in, it really made my heart ache but I also felt less alone in a way.

everything that followed, it’s like reading a reflection. I shutdown and just went through the motions afterwards too, but ohhh how nice it would’ve been to have a dean ❤️ his support, how he takes care of her, it’s so heartwarming. and it’s really comforting to read. <3

a lot of my family distanced themselves afterwards which, it is what it is. that being said, the sentiment in this story of family isn’t always blood resonates with me a lot. my support system is really small, but they chose to be there for me unlike my blood relatives so, that theme in this story means so much — the way dean’s chosen family shows up for her as well, it’s so sweet. 💖

I guess the gist of what i’m trying to say, is I wholeheartedly adore this series and it truly means so much to me 🤍 I appreciate your work so much, and I love the unique feeling each piece of your writing brings 💗💗 I know I may sound like a broken record but truly I don’t think I can ever put into words how much I love your blog. you are an absolute sweetheart, truly a light peeking out between cloudy skies 💞

this chapter specifically was so raw, so real, and it was written beautifully. 🤍

thank you for your time lovely!💘 (again, I apologize if this was way too much 🫶🏽)

Smoke Eater - Part 11

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,400 Tags/Warnings: Major angst warning. But also major hurt/comfort.

Part 11: “Heart of the Home”

You sat very still.

Your hands were gripped together in your lap when the doctor entered. He was tall and lean and blonde, and he would’ve reminded you of your boss, except this man had a kinder face.

You were sitting on the edge of your grandfather’s bed, hoping the doctor would say the bloodwork and scans came back fine. That they wouldn’t need to admit George into the hospital for further testing. That he could go home in the morning.

But your life had never been quite that easy.

“Okay, George. I’m sorry, but we need to admit you,” said the doctor.

He explained that while the malignant tumor of his cancer had been removed last year, the scans that had been done last month hadn’t been able to detect the bright spots now formed on George’s lungs and lymph nodes.

The oncologist would have to confirm, but you all knew where this was headed. Likely those “bright spots” were tumors.

George nodded slowly at first, taking it all in. He asked what his options were, as far as treatment.

“Your oncologist will go over those options with you,” the doctor replied. “We’re going to move you up to Oncology shortly.”

George thanked him.

And you sat very still. 

A hand fell on your arm, finally earning your gaze. George’s face was oddly calm, though the worry in his eyes was for you. You realized that he’d gently called your name, though you hadn’t heard him. Your ears were ringing.

His mouth parted to tell you something, but nothing came out. So instead, he tugged you into his arms, and he heaved a long sigh.

“I guess we’re here again,” he admitted. He let out a chuckle. “The Lord does like his tests…but maybe that car accident was a blessing in disguise, huh?”

You heard his voice, but your mind was buzzing—mainly with the doctor’s words, and with a bone-deep feeling that threatened to consume you.

Your car, your fault. Options, again. Here again.

Your fault.

When you didn’t answer, George pulled away a bit to give you a questioning look.

“Sweetheart?” he tried. You laid a hand on his arm.

“You still haven’t eaten dinner, have you?” you asked. Neither had you, for that matter. “I’ll get us something that isn’t rubbery turkey.”

George blinked at you, confused, with a growing edge of worry.

“Isn’t Dean getting your meds? Why don’t you wait for him to—”

“I’m fine,” you said, already getting up to grab your purse. “I’ll be back.”

George called your name again, but the ringing in your ears was now pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

You made your way down the hall to the lobby at a brusque clip, even with your neck brace on. You didn’t see Dean, but he certainly saw you as he was walking back into the hospital. Frowning, he followed and called out to you.

You slowed when you saw him, and he soon caught up with you. He rested a hand on your back.

“Hey, where you goin’?" he asked.

“We haven’t eaten in a while. I’m going to the cafeteria,” you said. Though you seemed distracted, your eyes meeting his only briefly. It triggered a small spidey sense running up Dean’s spine.

He gave you your prescription pain medication, which you took with a small “thank you.”

“Everything okay?” he asked. “How’s George doing?”

“Fine. He’s resting,” you said. And by the look of you, that seemed to be true. But he spotted the tremble in your hands when you took the pill bottle package from him. It made him stop you when you tried to keep walking down to the cafeteria.

“Okay, you wanna run that by me again?” Dean asked.

You frowned, and your brows knit together. “What?”

“Is there something going on?” he pressed.

You sighed, but you didn’t answer him. You looked exhausted, and like you’d rather swallow your own tongue than speak. You shook your head and laid a hand on his wrist.

“I’m fine. Dean, thank you for everything you did tonight, but you still have to work tomorrow. Go home, get some rest,” you said.

You turned from him again. That was your first mistake. He reached out and grasped your hand to stop you.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he said.

“What?” you said in irritation. Your second mistake was not being able to look at him.

Dean was frowning in earnest now. Worry clawed in his gut, which was also telling him not to let you walk away from him. His grip shifted to hold both of your arms and move directly in front of you. He dipped his chin, trying to get you to meet his eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I need you to talk to me.”

You inhaled a shuddering breath. A wave was rising inside you, threatening to pull you into its undertow. Your eyes burned, red and shining. Dean finally saw it when you raised your head, what little you could. Your mouth began to quiver, looking into his eyes. And it was done.

You could no longer be still.

Dean held you when you fell apart in the hallway.

Dean called out of work the next day to stay with you and George. Gordon would be acting Lieutenant until his next shift, and Dean was sure the man would take full enjoyment out of it.

He couldn’t care about that right now though. He felt that his place was here, being your quiet wall of support while you and George and the oncologist talked about treatment options.

“Normally, at the stage we’re in, I would be recommending chemotherapy,” said Dr. Benton.

“Normally?” you echoed.

“At the rate this is progressing, the treatment would have to be aggressive,” he said. His gaze focused on George. “However, at your age, and the current state of your overall health…at this point, I don’t think the rigors of treatment would be worth diminishing your quality of life.”

“What are you saying?” you asked. Your voice cut like a whip, earning the other men’s gazes.

George was the first one to lay a hand on your arm. “You know what it means, honey…he’s saying it ain’t worth it.”

“Of course, it’s worth it,” you retorted. With your brows furrowed and lips pursed, your eyes went from him to the doctor. “Just because he’s older, we shouldn’t even try? Is that what you’re saying, doctor?”

At that, even Dean drew closer to lay a hand on your back. Meanwhile, George squeezed your arm.

Benton shook his head gravely. “That’s certainly not what I’m saying.”

“How much time would I get, if I started treatment,” George asked, before you could volley further with the doctor.

Benton met the other man’s gaze.

“I’m going to be honest with you, George. You may get a few more weeks, or even a few months. But that is a best-case scenario.”

Dean drove you all home that day, after George decided to formally waive treatment. Both men knew you were angry in your silence, but neither one wanted to press you. Dean was too wary, and George was too tired.

Once he was settled in bed, you hadn’t even left his room yet before you grabbed a notepad off his desk and wandered into the hall. You started to make a list of things you still needed from the grocery store, among other things. Dean took that piece of paper out of your hands.

“Good. I’ll handle this,” he said. “Meanwhile, you can get upstairs, take a shower, take your meds, and get some sleep.” 

You frowned at him. “You haven’t slept either, Dean.”

“I’m used to it,” he said, giving you a wink and a slight smile. Overnight shifts could be a bitch at a firehouse, but Dean was no stranger to having his sleep interrupted.

“Listen to him, honey. He’s speaking sense,” George called from inside his room. The bedroom door was still open. He was settling into his bed while trying to stifle a cough. He sipped at a cup of water you’d brought for him.

Still, you looked reluctant. Dean held your arms and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Come on,” he said. “You were in an accident yesterday. You’ve had one hell of a night. You need your rest, or you’ll be no good to anyone.”

And if you pushed yourself much more, he worried that he’d have to take you right back to the hospital. Dean would rather not have that scare so close to the last one.

He brushed your cheek with gentle fingers. With the limited mobility your neck brace provided, you did your best to look up at him. Your eyes were softer.

“Okay,” you breathed.

“Okay? All right, good,” Dean said. You held onto his jacket for a moment, leaning against him.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You felt the burn of tears behind your closed eyelids. A few of them squeezed past and slipped down your cheeks. Dean held your face, brushing the tears away with his thumbs.

“Hey, I’m here, all right? Just let me help you,” he said. “You can lean on me when you need to.”

“I haven’t had that in a long time,” you admitted. “Part of me doesn’t know how to lean.”

“I get that,” Dean said. But you both knew that there was a long and difficult road ahead. He knew he didn’t have to remind you of it. “Whatever you need, you just tell me, okay? If nothing else, I’ve got a strong pair of shoulders.”

Somehow, you smiled. You pressed your forehead against his chest and inhaled deeply, to steady yourself.

“That you do, Lieutenant.”

You left for your room soon after, but not before you brought him down to you for one more tearful kiss.

Dean then watched you climb up the stairs to your room and nearly went up to help you, but he heard George call his name. Dean ventured back into George’s room and heeded his beckoning hand.

“You hungry? I can scramble some eggs or something before I hit the store. I think I saw two more left in the carton,” Dean said. George shook his head.

“Come ‘ere a sec.”

Dean took the hint and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I just wanna thank you for everything you did yesterday. Everything you’re still doing for us,” George said. He looked exhausted, but whatever he wanted to say was important enough to fight off sleep. He clasped a hand on Dean’s arm.

“You don’t have to,” Dean replied.

George huffed. A smile made his eyes gleam brighter.

“I knew you were a special one, Dean Winchester. Knew it the night I met ya, on your very first date with her.”

Dean blinked, but his pause drifted into a reserved smile.

“How’s that?” he asked.

“Well, I’ll be honest. When I heard that black Chevy rumble like hell’s wheels onto the driveway, I thought I might have to worry about you,” George chuckled.

Dean’s lips quirked.

“But no, it wasn’t that. It wasn’t the pretty flowers, or our mutual love of killer sharks,” George quipped, making Dean’s smile more genuine. “It isn’t your job either, or the fact that you saved her. I just believe that you can see a man’s mettle in his eyes…and I saw it in you when I shook your hand that night.”

Dean took that in for a moment. His hand flexed over his knee. Then he met George’s gaze, though he didn’t know what to say. Sometimes though, honestly was the best bet.

“I’m sorry for what you’re going through,” he said at last. “I can’t imagine…”

George let out a breath through his nose. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

He pointed to a picture frame on his bedside. It was of him and his wife, Sophie, when they were around your age and Dean’s. The couple were sitting on a pier that hung over the edge of the lake in their hometown.

She held him from behind, with her arms wrapped around his neck. Her long hair was being carried by the wind, getting swept into George’s eyes. He was smiling too hard to care.

“I’m ready to smile like that again,” he said. He had tears in his eyes, but he was already lighter at the thought. “I know it’s selfish…but I think I’ve missed her long enough.”

Dean paused. Then he cleared his throat past a small well of something he couldn’t name. He wondered if his dad ever had thoughts like that.

“Well, I’ll let you get your rest,” he said. “I’ll be back.”

George nodded and gave Dean’s arm a squeeze. “All right. Drive safe. Don’t hit any goddamn trees.”

He shot Dean a knowing wink, and it almost had the younger man laughing. George’s sense of humor was something else.

Dean then left George to rest. He made sure he had his wallet, keys, and your grocery list before he left your house and went back to the car. He checked his phone and saw a missed call…from Cas.

Dean was reminded again about Azazel, the kingpin who might’ve ordered a hit on his family. Along with the recent murders and arsons, and the connection from one of the victims to your company, Savage & Co.

Dean returned the call as he climbed into the Impala.

“Dean. Everything all right?” Cas asked. “Sam filled me in about the accident.”

“Yeah, everyone’s okay…well, not really. I’ll explain later,” Dean replied. “Listen, about what we talked about at the bar.”

“Yes.” Cas said gravely. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go to your father about this yet.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.” Dean sighed. “My girl just got some real bad news. I know you gotta keep digging into Savage & Co., but can you keep her out of it?”

“Is she all right?”

“Yeah, more or less…it’s her grandfather.”

“Ah, I see,” Cas said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks, man. I’d rather her just focus on what she needs to do right now, you know?”

“I get it. And believe me, we’re keeping the investigation of Nick Savage quiet for now,” Cas said. “But if we find something, or worse, if I can’t…I’ll likely need to question her. She works directly with Savage, and from what I can tell, she’s instrumental in bringing in and maintaining several of his major accounts.”

Dean stopped at a red light and took a moment to rub a hand over his tired face, rubbing his eyes. “You don’t really think she’s got any idea of what that asshole’s into.”

“I’m not saying she does. But in working so closely with him, perhaps she’s noticed things about her boss, and the company. Things she’s kept to herself, out of self-preservation.”

Dean frowned. He didn’t want to think about shit like that. It made his stomach churn at the thought of you working for someone who might be doing business with a crime lord, let alone Azazel.

“Well, when that day comes, give me a heads up, okay?”

“Will do.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

Dean offered to take another day off to help you, but you wouldn’t let him. He needed to go back to work, and you were able to arrange working from home for the next few weeks.

Even Nick couldn’t refuse to accommodate you in a situation like this. He knew very well that if he pushed you too hard, you’d go directly to HR.

So he backed off, and told you to take as much time at home as you needed. It allowed you to put him, and that afternoon in his office, away from your mind to focus on taking care of your grandfather.

Though you called your best friend the day you got home from the hospital, Andréa didn’t come by your house to see you and George until the end of the week. She cited mounting projects at work and some kind of tiff with her cousin Meg, but it all sounded like excuses to you.

However, she was gracious enough to bring dinner for the three of you on a Friday night. She cut up with George like normal, and even got him laughing, until a coughing fit forced him to stop. It also took most of the joy out of the rest of the evening.

While George went up to his room to rest, Andréa later joined you in the kitchen. You were washing the dishes, trying to focus on what you were doing. But your mind was buzzing continuously with future tasks and worries. Always, tasks and worries.

“How are you holding up?” Andréa asked. She rubbed your back, and you gave her a slight smile.

“All I can do is make him comfortable, for as long as possible,” you replied. There were tears in your friend’s eyes, but she dabbed them away with the back of her hand.

“What do you need? Anything, you just tell me,” she said.

It was a little easier for you to contemplate leaning on Andréa. You had been friends with her for years, and she was like another daughter to George.

On the other hand, asking Dean for help always made you hesitate. What you two had was still so new. You worried that this was too much for your relationship, too fast. 

“Well,” you sighed as you wiped your hands dry on a kitchen towel. You didn’t exactly want to talk about it, but there were things you had to start planning, even if you didn’t know the exact timeframe.

However, as soon as you opened your mouth to reply, Andréa’s cell phone rang. She held up a finger to you and checked it. To your surprise, she actually answered it.

“Hey, babe,” she replied with a smile. You heard Benny’s deep voice on the line, asking a question. “Yeah, I’m still here. I’m probably leaving soon though.”

She continued her conversation for a few more minutes, but you didn’t hear anything after that. A tension headache was sharp behind your eyes, while anger (yes, anger) rolled hot under your skin. Your lips pursed. You busied yourself with straightening up the kitchen until she continued her call for another few minutes.

“Sorry about that,” she said, finally turning her attention back to you. “So what do you need?”

You put away the last dry dish and turned to her coolly.

“Nothing.”

Andréa frowned. She knew there was something off with you, but her furrowed brows betrayed her confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” you repeated. “Don’t you need to head out, anyway?”

“No, I was just…what’s up with you?” she asked.

“What’s up with me is my grandfather’s dying!” you snapped. You left her in the kitchen, precisely so that she’d follow you out. You grabbed her purse for her and went to the front door, where you stepped out.

Andréa was dismayed and confused as she followed you out onto the porch. She raised her brows at you when you shut the door and crossed your arms at her.

“I know you, and this isn’t just about that. What’s the problem?” she asked.

“You can’t seem to detach from your boyfriend for more than five minutes to just be my friend. That’s the problem,” you replied. “But why should I be surprised? Like always, you’re too wrapped up in yourself to consider anyone else.”

Her brows knitted together; she looked hurt by your words, but also defensive.

“How can you say that when you’ve been exactly the same way?” she accused. “Since you met Dean, I’d be lucky to see you once a week—”

“I call you every week,” you began, counting the list with your fingers. “You’re always busy, but you never give me a day that works for you. And when we do make plans, you usually cancel. Why? Because you’re going sailing with Benny. You’re going to a restaurant, hours away, just to try the new sushi bar beer garden, or whatever the hell. Or you’re going on an impromptu road trip, or you’re planning a summer trip to Greece. Give me fucking break, Dre.”

By now she was frowning angrily, her arms crossed. “You’re mad at me because I have a life?”

“No. I’m happy for you that you found someone. I really am,” you said. “But we clearly live in two different versions of reality. I just don’t have the time or the energy to entertain yours.”

You knew you were being too harsh. You felt incredible guilt as soon as it all left your mouth…but part of you also felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. The problem was, you still felt heavy. Just in a different way.

Both of you were crying when Andréa left your house.

All too soon, a week became a month. In that time, Dean called you every day to check on you. He spent most of his evenings with you and George when he wasn’t on shift. And when he was, sometimes Meg would drop in.

She understood your argument with Andréa, and she respected you for taking a stand when you needed to. She even confided you that she’d had similar frustrations with her cousin lately.

But Meg wasn’t your only visitor. Ellen had come a few times to bring you lunch and dinner, even breakfast, though you hadn’t asked her to. You realized then how close Dean must be to his friends at the firehouse, along with the Harvelles; Ellen also refused to take any money from you for the food.

By the end of the month, George mainly spent his days sleeping. Pain medication made his days nearly painless, but not without struggle. You were doing your best to care for him while continuing to work full-time from home. You were also exhausted, though you refused to admit it.

Today was a better day, however, because George was awake. He was also more aware of his surroundings than usual.

He stopped you from adjusting his pillow so you would sit down on the edge of his bed. He took your hand in his, brushing a thumb over the back of it.

“I’m okay with this, you know,” he said. You pursed your lips, but he stopped you from whatever you were going to say. “I don’t want to leave you. You know that…but I’m so damn proud of you. Your Gram was, and still is…”

Your lower lip wobbled as you tried and failed to keep your tears at bay. They stung in your eyes and slipped past your defenses, down your face.

“The house is yours. But if that’s too hard for you, just sell it,” he said, heaving a deep breath. “It’s just the bones. You’re the heart. And you always have been.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but not a sound would come out. You held his hand with both of yours and stared down at them. Until his voice once again commanded your attention.

“I always thought…moving to the city ruined my daughter. That we should’ve stayed in Lebanon. That maybe I gave her too much freedom, and I failed her somehow along the way,” George said. His eyes were heavy with old heartache. And yet, they soon began to lighten.

“But the day we lost a daughter, we gained one too,” he said. Then, he chuckled a little. “And I know I never failed with you, sweetheart.”

That proved to be too much for you. He pulled you into his arms like you were still a child, and he held you for a long time while you cried yourself out.

Though he eventually spotted Dean hesitating in the doorway. He’d probably let himself in with the spare key you’d given him.

George raised a hand from your back and silently beckoned Dean inside his room. He was getting tired, drifting off thanks to the morphine.

“Hey, lookie there. The boyfriend’s here,” George whispered with a bit of cheek. You sucked in a breath and raised your head, wiping at your eyes before you turned around. Dean met you with an attempt at a smile and a gentle hand on your back.

“Just got out of work?” you asked. He’d been on a 24-hour shift, and you’d missed him. You stood and stepped into his welcoming embrace. He dropped a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah. I’ve got the next couple of days off,” Dean said. He greeted George next and asked him if he needed anything.

“Just some water,” the older man replied.

“I’ll get it,” you said with a sniff. “Need to start dinner too.”

“I already brought some food. You like Italian, right?” Dean said, with a subtle smile. It earned your sigh and a grateful smile. He knew very well that it was now one of your favorites. Italian meatballs always reminded you both of your first date.

“Thank you,” you said, grasping his hand. He squeezed yours with a nod, before he let you go.

When you were out of earshot, George cleared his throat past a wet cough. Dean reached over and grabbed him a tissue. George took it with a nod. Again, he encouraged Dean to come closer.

“I’m not worried,” George said, between deep breaths. “You know why?”

Dean just stared back for a moment. He genuinely had no idea what the man might say next.

“Tell me,” he said.

“My granddaughter’s strong. Always has been, because she had to be,” said George. “But you’re gonna be there when she’s not.”

Dean considered the weight of that charge. The anxiety in his chest felt familiar; like the day he got his badge at the Fire Academy, knowing then the responsibility he held in his hands.

That’s a lot to put on just three months of knowing this girl, came a more selfish thought. It sounded a lot like the guy he used to be, not too long before he met you.

But when Dean thought about you, and what you’d begun to mean to him…

He realized that he only had one answer.

“Yes, sir. I am,” said Dean.

George gave a tired smile. “Good man.”

And that night, an agreement was made. 

In the morning, your grandfather was gone.

Dean held you through what he thought was the worst of your heartbreak. But after that dour morning, it was like a switch flipped inside you.

In the days after George’s death, your shutters came up. You threw yourself into checklists and task after task—in funeral arrangements and planning and contacting distant relatives and friends.

This was your failsafe. Your version of “autopilot.” And these things needed to get done, after all.

But Dean worried when he no longer saw the softer side of you. Like your heart had been wrung dry. 

He inevitably had to go back to work, but in between the demanding hours of his schedule, he tried to get you to slow down. He saw the warning signs of you running yourself into the ground. He just didn’t know how to help you land.

So Dean picked up slack where he saw it, often without you asking him to. He began fixing the house, one section at a time. He enlisted Benny’s help, since he actually had a small construction business. Dean even paid for the materials himself without you knowing.

And one sunny afternoon, he took a break from repaving part of the cracked and uneven driveway to grab a beer inside. You were sitting at the kitchen table with stacks of papers all around you, your cellphone on speaker as some kind of elevator music continued to ring on a loop.

“Can you believe I’ve been on hold with the funeral director for 20 minutes?” you told him in irritation. But you didn’t truly take sight of him until he came back from the kitchen.

He wore a familiar ensemble of jeans and black undershirt with a plaid shirt, rolled up to his elbows. He was covered in a fine layer of sweat, and his hands were dusty and stained from his work on the driveway. Dean looked tired, and that made you feel guilty.

Meanwhile, he frowned and popped open a beer. “You want one of these? Looks like you could use one.”

You shook your head. With a sigh, you hung up the phone. You’d try calling again later. Instead, you focused on the next item of your checklist for today.

“Food. Because we’re gonna need to eat after the service,” you inclined your head. “Okay, still need to come up with a list of caterers, because I don’t think I can cook for that many people.”

Dean nodded at that. “Let me talk to Ellen. She’ll give you a good price, and her food is good.”

You looked up from your notepad and considered him thoughtfully. You wouldn’t have thought to cater from a bar, but he was right. Ellen had great food at the Roadhouse.

“Okay, I’ll call her,” you said.

“No, I’ll call her,” Dean insisted. He set down the beer on the table and leaned his palms flat on its surface. “Sweetheart, I told you I’d help you with all this. You don’t have to do it by yourself.”

“Dean, you’ve done enough,” you replied. Your brows drew together stubbornly. “You’re paving my driveway right now, for God’s sake! This is my responsibility, not yours.”

Dean frowned, making you sigh. You leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms.

“Look, we’ve only been dating for three months,” you said. And in your mind, a good chunk of that time had been spent in the worst hell of your life. “This right here? It’s a lot. I’m not expecting you to deal with all this…”

You bit your lip, and your gaze fell away from his as your insecurities took hold. The thoughts that had been plaguing you every night since this all began, on the night of the car accident.

“And…if you’d rather take a break from us for a while, I’d understand,” you said.

Your voice was more collected than you felt. But that didn’t make it any easier when Dean stared back at you, mostly incredulous. You even thought you saw a thread of hurt there, and it made your heartache worsen.

Dean came around to your side of the table. He dragged a chair back and sunk into it, facing you directly.

“You think that’s the kind of guy I am?” he asked.

You immediately shook your head. You weren’t trying to upset him, or imply that he wasn’t reliable, or trustworthy, or whatever was running through his head. You were just trying to be realistic.

You’re so pragmatic it hurts, as Andréa had often told you.

“Dean, it’s not that…” you began, a bit helplessly. “I just—”

“Just, nothin’.” His chair scraped toward you as he reached out for your hand. He made sure you looked him in the eyes when he said this next part. 

“I’m not leaving you with this.”

Your gaze met his, though you desperately tried to keep your heart from rising into your throat. 

“I’m not leaving you,” Dean said. His tone, his eyes, his hold on your hand was firm.

For a moment, you stared at him, unblinking, even as tears swam in your eyes. 

He’s not leaving you. 

Not like everyone else in your life.

You were grateful. Too grateful, even, for words.

When you finally broke down into tears, Dean realized what an idiot he’d been. Your wall of stoicism had been just that—a flimsy wall. Now it was shattered, and so were you.

It scared him just how much, as he gathered you onto his lap and into his arms. You didn’t seem to care that he was dirty and covered with sweat. You clung to him strong, and he held you back just as tightly.

“No matter what I did, it wasn’t enough,” you confessed. “You save people all the time. I couldn’t save anyone in my life.”

Dean frowned. He cupped the back of your head, and he felt your tears sliding down his neck. His voice was thick with emotion when he was able to reply.

“Oh, baby. It’s not your fault.”

“I can’t…I can’t do anything. Anything that matters.” Your voice was a broken whisper. It damn near broke his heart. 

“Now you know that’s not true,” he said. “I’m not gonna let you lie to yourself like that.”

You trembled and heaved with sobs, and he continued to hold you.

Just be there, Sam had told him, when Dean had called him from the hospital. Sam reminded him again last week, when George finally passed.

Is that all I’m supposed to do? Dean thought. His brows furrowed, but he tried to hide his frustration.

He was used to people depending on him. He led a team. Before then, he’d looked out for Sam all his life. Dean had never had to help someone get through this kind of grief though. He just wanted to help you, in whatever way he could.

Because he was worrying, just like you. That whatever he did, it wouldn’t be enough.

But he couldn’t leave you. 

I can’t, and I won’t, he thought. So he took a breath, and he said the first true thing that came to mind.

“You’re the strongest woman I know, you know that?” Dean said. He spoke low and steady, but with the conviction he felt. “And that’s a tall order, considering some of the badass ladies I’ve got in my life.”

A smile tugged at his lips when he considered people like Ellen and Jo, Jody and Donna. He might’ve lost his mom, but he and Sam hadn’t lacked when it came to influential women in their lives.

“But I saw it the day we met. I see it every time we’re together,” he continued. “You work hard as hell. You take care of everyone around you…”

You were still quiet, trying to stifle your crying.

Dean let out a breath. “Man, if you only knew how much you’ve been helping me. Keeping my damn feet on the ground with this whole…arsonist mess my dad’s been investigating. Digging up the past, my mom, the whole damn thing.”

With a sniffle, you uncurled from him, just enough to reveal your face. Your grip on his shirt loosened, your palm flattening on his chest. He held your hand there and turned his lips to your forehead. He sensed that you were calming down. That you were listening.

“That matters to me,” he told you.

You nodded and tightened your hand on his. “Me too.”

Your voice was still shaky, but it sounded a little stronger.

“See? You might as well face it.” Dean grinned. “You’re a badass chick with a big heart.”

You snorted in response. Your lips even twitched at a smile. He spied it when he looked down at you. And you rested easier against him as your tears subsided.

“Thank you,” you whispered. He dried your cheek with a brush of his hand. 

“For what?” he asked.

“For staying.”

AN: So first off, I'm sorry for the gritty "reality" of this one. It's just where the story took me, though it serves a purpose narratively and for both the reader and Dean's character development.

But also, I think this has just been on my mind, since both my grandmother and great uncle (brother and sister) died within a year of one another due to different forms of cancer. My great uncle passed in May of this year, and my grandmother two years this past October.

Again, I'm sorry if this one was too heavy, but art does imitate life and this was probably my brain trying to express those emotions I couldn't fully make sense of at the time. George will be missed, but will still be felt in the rest of this story, as I'm sure any of you who've lost close family members will understand. 💙

Next Time:

The identity of Azazel will finally be revealed in Part 12. But first...

You nodded. “By the way, it was nice of Sam and Eileen to come. And Meg and Cas.” 

Dean smiled.

“They can be your people too,” he said. “If you want ‘em to be.”

You couldn’t help it. Your tears brewed and bubbled over. And you moved slowly across the couch to twine your arms around his neck. Dean’s lips tugged at a smile, and he welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

Both of you were still wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing all day; you in your black dress and Dean in his slacks and white buttoned-down shirt, though by now without the jacket, and the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

You were infinitely exhausted. But one thing had become clear to you over the past few weeks.

“Thank you. Thank you for today, and for every day since we met,” you said shakily.

Keep Reading: PART 12

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

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[publicstar0356]

I shall begin an all-new, all-homo blog! (I'm definitely not like 10 years behind on starting a blog lol).

I shall dub it JustSomeDude™! (I was gonna make it "Just Some Dude™", but when you Google that name you get a DeviantArt account that posts fat fetish art💀💀💀)

I talk about random bullshit here, basically whatever topic I feel like enlightening the masses about that particular day. And of course, because I am the most interesting man on earth, I'll also talk a lot about my life. You will listen to my whining, you will read my page, and you will consume product! Buy my merch!!!!!

Anyways, the inaugural installment of JustSomeDude™ focuses around the single most engaging, interesting topic of all the universes; The Big Sad.

Yep, I'm sad. Got broken up with by the woman I thought was The One, turned out she was the ½. Shit sucks bro. So please, all none of you reading this, beam to me your validation! Praise me this exact instant! I need all the shallow reinforcement I can get!

Ok, to drop the funni haha act for a sec and hit upon a more vulnerable note,a less funni, it truly is devastating to me. She was my first true love, I earnestly thought I would spend my life with her. Obviously, didn't play out that way lol.

It's been 2 weeks now. You'd think time would dull the pain, and what do you know? You'd be right. It's not nearly as bad as it was initially, yet I feel an agonizing emptiness inside my Self. I have navigated beyond grief over the idea of the relationship. I miss her and her specifically, not just the concept of having a girlfriend.

Truly and honestly, I have never had anyone else in my life comparable to her. I shared an intimacy with her that is beyond pre-relationship-me's comprehension. Obviously, having someone to do the sex with was cool and all, but beyond bodily pleasure, I miss her presence. I miss spending time with her, kissing and holding her in my arms, miss having my best friend, closest confidant, and favorite person all wrapped into one. I could go on an unbearably sappy rant about all the things I miss about her, like her freckles, beautiful brown eyes, her smile, her b- Wait a fucking second, I did again! Fuck!!!

Anyways, sorry about that. Just had to put my emotional side back where it belongs (locked and starving in my basement, right next to the 14 children).

Anyways, haha funni! Wanna hear a joke? My life! All you have to do is self deprecate to hide the pain! Afterall, if you refuse to acknowledge it, it doesn't exist. Much like Santa Claus, and the Federal Reserve.

I don't have a good seque into concluding this smattering of words, so I'm going to cheat and lampshade it. Am I being ironic? Am I using satire? Am I just being lazy? Yes.

Boom, instant segue. Basically, I will regularly add to this blog whenever I have something I feel like I need to express. I've found that expressing my emotions helps expel them, or otherwise they're remain entombed within my vessel, blighting the miniature clown people who pilot my body. I hope that people will read this, but honestly I just don't know. If a lot of people read this (which for clarification's sake, I absolutely don't expect to happen), I will be much more active and put significantly more effort into increasing the quality of my writing. I'm very good at revising my own work and drastically improving it, but it takes a whole lot of time, effort, and work. Anyways like, subscribe, and ring that be- wait, I'm a blog shill, not a YouTube shill. Fuck!

[nny11writes]

Normal me: I’ll just respond in a similar length to my comments. Drunk me: HERE’S A FUCKING NOVEL ON MY THOUGHT PROCESS AND HEADCANONS, HOPE YOU DIDN’T PLAN ON READING ANYTHING ELSE!?