#but after a while he figures like. well god damn it if no one else will do it. i fucking will.

[makeitworse]

𝒯ASTE

── only he can get you, no matter what it takes.

tags : f!rea x jeongin. 2.6k wc. slight age gap (~3 yrs). obsession. resolved tension. ginger innie🤤. oppa kink?. suggestive. 18+

♬ : taste - stray kids,, hallucination - i.n

notes : for angel’s bday bash! 🧁 thank you for trusting me w innie, have the happiest birthday <33

JEONGIN was in over his head.

he knew it well. drowning in it, actually. suffocating in this sharp, all-consuming craving for the one girl he had no business even glancing at twice.

you were like intravenous drugs draped in a dress — specifically the little black one that’s been haunting him since the night he saw you in it — carved right into his bloodstream with no hope of getting clean. withdrawals hit whenever you were gone too long, and yeah, he wishes that was an exaggeration. but it’s not. it’s a sick and embarrassing and a bad fucking joke.

you’re the forbidden fruit after all. untouchable, holy. and yet simultaneously the serpent — smug and enticing, knowing full well what you’re rousing in him. watching him fight a war within himself to not give everything else up for just one taste.

god, did he want to bite.

the punchline? well, of course it was you. had to be you. the funniest, smartest, prettiest damn girl he's ever met — the one person he’s wanted this bad ever in his life. the one person he shouldn’t want in any way beyond passing smiles and brief catch-ups, such as: "nice to see you again, chan says you’re well.”

because you weren’t just any girl. you’re his leader’s baby sister. and jeongin was so impossibly, helplessly fucked with no solace in sight.

the line wasn’t just clear — in fact it was lit up in neon signage, outlined in barbed wire, and tattooed across chan’s knuckles. from the start, he’d been firm with the group to behave when it came to his sisters. it’s important to him to keep family and work as seperate lives. can you imagine if you came crying to him about some idiot breaking your heart, and the guy chan had to kill was one of his own??

so sisters: off-limits. anyone looking for a quick, accessible death would just have to click follow on your instagram. but it’s not like jeongin was gross about it, right? chan’s watched him grow up. he’s not some pervert.

well, in the strict definition of it.

it doesn’t help when you walk into a room and your eyes find jeongin first every single time, wearing that damned smile like you know just what he was dreaming of last night. when you greet him with a hug that he’s not allowed to return, hands roaming all over his back like it’s your right while he’s been fossilised in place.

and especially when you tilt your head and call him oppa, giggling it off when heat rushes to jeongin’s face (and other places). it should be studied just how hard he gets just from that word in your mouth.

he’s the youngest in the group, used to being babied and teased. but you flip everything he knows on its head. you glance at him with those sweet eyes, all sugar and bad intentions, and suddenly he was some creepy oppa ogling a younger girl. and you just knew, didn’t you? you had to. literally no one calls him that. especially not like how you do.

it was a maddening game of push and pull, a standstill at what are we? — at least, on his end. you’d throw him a bone to keep him hooked: like laugh extra loud at a joke he made even when his voice cracked. to keep his heart, among other parts, confused and starving and pumping with blood.

one day you were curled up next to him on the couch, knees and shoulders bumping his, any polite space he tried maintaining gone in the second after. and by the next, you were barely looking his way, laughing with one of the others like he wasn’t even there.

he couldn’t figure you out even if there was a gun to his head. and that’s what made this dangerous. because if this was all him — just hopelessly drooling over his leader’s little sister, and you didn’t feel a thing in return — then what did that make him?

and you know what’s worse? he chooses to risk it all and still want you tomorrow. and the day after. and over and over until the running in circles makes him crash out. he hopes you make the first move or perhaps chan just takes him out before it reaches that point, though.

he watched you with the others once: with hyunjin and felix. laughing, nudging, leaning in way too close like you do all the time with jeongin. you were just being friendly, sure. that’s what you’d say if your brother came storming in. but it gnawed at jeongin’s chest all the same.

because who’s to say you weren’t like that with all of them? with anyone? who’s to say that if any of them leaned into it the way jeongin thinks about — snagging the bait and flirting right back — you wouldn’t let them have you? they were taller, older, cooler. more collected in ways jeongin was still learning how to be. maybe chan would even approve of one of them. felix seemed a good fit: a mature guy with a clean track record, sensible enough to keep his hands to himself until he had a ring on it.

so suddenly, everything jeongin thought you shared started to feel small. that maybe what you had wasn’t special, but rather some passing game you play when you’re bored — when none of the better options were around.

that’s when it occurred to him. he wasn’t going to let it be anyone else.

even if it hurt. even if it utterly ruined him. even if it meant sobbing at your feet while you crushed him over and over again with a soft smile that said try harder. whatever it took, jeongin would make you his. you’d look at him and only him, even if he had to bleed for it. especially if he had to.

for weeks now, jeongin’s been acting like a moth to the sun. hovering you like a flame he doesn't have the balls to touch, close enough to feel the heat but not get burned. he pursues you in the only ways he can without crossing the bewared lines; polite compliments, glances that linger too long, brushing his knuckles on your hand when no one’s looking. not too forward. never enough to be obvious. but enough to make him feel like he’s doing something with these feelings, to channel all of the pent up energy he’s too ashamed to release in the night by himself.

and apparently, it’s too much. because the others are starting to notice.

one afternoon in the practice room, he overheard seungmin telling hyunjin about a funny tiktok you had sent him. he didn’t think they were allowed to talk to you outside of in person. it had him sulking for the rest of rehearsal, short with seungmin specifically, until they wrapped up for the day and he cornered jeongin.

“is there something going on?” seungmin asked, tone flat like he already knew the answer. jeongin doesn’t answer, pretending to look for something in his bag, which gets an eye-roll from the older of the two.

“okay, you’ve been acting like some guard dog whenever someone says her name.” seungmin crosses his arms with a sigh. “you do realise we’re all not allowed to do anything, right?”

jeongin shrugs it off, giving a snicker that comes out hollow. he’s already been mulling it over — obsessively, relentlessly — and the guilt doesn’t stop him. hasn’t, won’t. not when it looks like he’s making progress. or maybe he’s hallucinating it all.

because lately, you’ve grown bolder and somehow colder all at once.

you’ll catch his eyes lingering and raise a brow, like you’re daring his gaze to drift lower. and sometimes it does. you’ll sit beside him, thigh brushing his and hand landing on his leg for a millisecond, only to face away like you didn’t feel him tense up under your touch. you even whispered that damn oppa in his ear once, around the corner and out of sight, then darted back into the room with everyone before he could even respond — leaving him flushed and half-hard and furious at himself.

tonight, he can’t take it anymore.

there’s too many people crammed into the living room of this damn house. he’d been pouting in the corner since changbin left him to go take a shit (seriously, who does that at a party?). bass was thumping through the walls, music drowned out by all the laughter and drunk chatter. jeongin hadn’t gotten there yet. he’d only had enough to feel warm, loosened at the edges. buzzing from two beers and the rush of knowing you were here, somewhere else in this house, probably charming the hell out of some guy who wasn’t him.

and like some pussy-whipped idiot, he downs the rest of his drink and pushes through the crowd in search of you. changbin can find some other company.

he wades his way to the kitchen, stumbling in on hyunjin kissing some girl sitting on the counter, and he looks twice only to make sure she’s not you — thank god.

it’s not long before he does find you: catching sight of your hair through the window near the bathroom, standing outside on the porch. you’re leaning on the railing, red cup in one hand and phone in the other; and he can make out enough of your screen to tell that you’re texting someone.

something in jeongin snaps.

maybe it’s just because you’re alone, which he really didn’t think he’d find you as — but he doesn’t spare himself a second to think. just slides open the screen door, heavy eyes landing on you as you turn to the noise. there’s hot needles prickling under his skin as steps to the railing, tongue buzzing with the taste of all the words he’s been swallowing for far too long.

he mimics your lean beside you. not quite touching yet. “didn’t expect to find you out here,” he says casually, like it’s not a lie and he was checking the whole house for you. “got tired of it?”

you hum. “meh. just needed some quiet.”

you don’t even glance at him. jeongin points to your phone, gaze flicking down to make out any words. “who’re you texting?”

you swiftly shut off your phone. it’s enough to get your attention, at least — as you stand up straighter, facing jeongin with a smirk. “why? jealous?”

jeongin lets out a dry laugh, cracking his knuckles as a nervous fidget. “should i be?”

you don’t answer. just keep staring at him with that crooked grin.

he shifts, voice seeping lower. “where’s chan? i saw him with you earlier,”

you shrug, glancing back into the house. “talking to minho, i think.”

something claws at his chest, jagged and desperate. it’s meant to ease him, knowing chan’s not in the vicinity. but it only makes his pulse come quicker. you’re here, alone, and your brother’s not looking for you.

you sit your drink on the railing and start to pick at your nails, bored. “is that all you came out here for?”

jeongin’s jaw flexes, and he knows you catch it in your peripheral because he can see your smirk edging wider. you’re living for this shit. instigating, prodding. always waiting to see how far he’ll go.

“i can’t do this anymore,” his words come out breathless. you blink at him, face stilling.

jeongin soldiers on through his conscience screaming at him to shut the hell up.

“i don’t care if this messes everything up. chan. the guys. all of it. i don’t care.”

your lips part slightly, whether in disbelief or anticipation. he steps closer.

“either you kiss me or hate me,” he goes on, fist involuntarily tightening from the adrenaline. “but i can’t keep doing this fucking middle ground where you pretend you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

there was something raw in his eyes — unfiltered, devoted. it almost hurts to look at. seeing the effect you’ve got on him in full force without any polite restraint. you could just walk away, decide it’s too much for you. you could’ve laughed in his face and left him there in his shame. he would’ve let you.

but instead, you step into his space.

you fist his jacket collar, tugging him towards you until his body’s almost pressed flush against yours. your breath fans jeongin’s cheek, and you’re close enough for him to clock the wild flicker in your eyes.

he’s driving you just as mad.

your voice comes as barely a whisper. “really want me that bad, huh, oppa?”

jeongin swallows hard, gaze darting between your eyes and lips. “didn’t you know?”

his mouth is dry and his voice is shaky but he can’t find it in him to care. especially not with how you’re looking at him through your lashes like you could eat him up.

your lips come to the shell of his ear, and he audibly gulps when you breathe him in there, the cologne scent mixed with the alcohol making your head foggy.

“i won’t tell,” you whisper, extending a pinky to his chest. his brain short circuits, and he’s frozen still for a second while he realises you’re literally giving him permission to go ahead and chan won’t find out. initial shock over, his pinky’s hooking around yours, and in the next breath you’re closing your lips around his.

it’s immediate and heated — a crash of mouths, teeth, hands all over bodies. no pause or teasing anymore. just hungry and frantic movements like you’ve been thinking about it just as long.

jeongin whines onto your lips when your fingers thread into his hair, when you parted your thighs to wedge his knee between your legs. his hands gripped your waist like he’s anchoring himself, or maybe holding you in place like he’s still scared you might not want this.

you pull soft noises from jeongin as you kiss him, but when your tongue slides past his lips and against his, he groans down your throat.

things heat up real quick after that. you ground yourself down on his knee, and he gasps as your thigh rocks against the painfully hard tent in his pants.

jeongin’s been a patient man. he didn’t rush, even when he was close to begging you for one chance. but now, now that he’s gotten to taste you — tongue swirling on yours, his hands under your clothes — he realises that it’s still not near enough to satisfy how starved he’s been.

he’s thought about kissing you, of course. wanted to lean in and press his lips to yours whenever you found yourselves alone in a room together. and while this is hot, and he’s insanely hard for how you’re rutting against his thigh right now, this isn’t what he’d been losing sleep over thinking about. what he’d been barely restraining from fucking his fist over in fear of disrespecting you.

with a one track mind, jeongin’s guiding you back into the wall, far enough from the glow of the lights inside, your bodies concealed by the night. he breaks the kiss only momentarily, pressing a kiss to your jaw, your neck, hiking your shirt up to pepper kisses onto your bare tummy.

and before you register it, jeongin’s already on his knees, fingers twitching at your hips and chin sitting on your abdomen — big, glossy eyes looking up at you. for permission, you realise.

because this is what he’d been fantasising about. this taste.

and when you nod, he smiles like he’s fallen in love on the spot. maybe he has.

“please be my girlfriend,” he pleads hoarsely, fingers hooking around your waistband.

you just chuckle, planting a hand in his hair and ruffling it.

“i’ll have to ask my brother.”

mlist · taglist 〃

@lightinbug @sherrayyyyy @ttturnitup @rafesbunniebby @strhwa @orphicarchive @lightinbug @pinkpunkdynamite @hydeonysus @velvetmoonlght @shinygubbins @ateez-atiny380 @sunnysidesins @nervousaggressive @madebybec @estella-novella @felixlsworld

@fenya-scribbles @emmiesoverthemoon @skzophreniic @leriexoxo @breakmeoff @pixie-felix @angel-writes-skz-here

[swiftcast-selene]

been thinking about how hard MSQ must be on the body, especially for someone who isn't exactly in the best shape of their life. must be hard to keep up with the warrior of light! which ended up in a couple studies of how Negi's carried his weight through the whole adventure, with a couple extra mostly-non-spoilery notes on each expac~

[levigarden999]

bakugo's biggest fangirl ₊˚⊹ᰔ

₊˚⊹ warnings : smut , +18 , overstimulation , p!v , f!orgasm

ever since you saw katsuki bakugo effortlessly blowing up a villain up on tv, you were smitten. the cocky grin he did after the successful attack, the small amount of smoke that was rising from his fingertips, and the tight black tank top which showed off his shoulder and back muscles perfectly definitely did things to you. the cherry on top was his slightly smug yet nonchalant attitude as the perky reporter bombed him with questions after the villain was done.

eh, it was nothing. just another extra getting in my way.

he didn’t even make eye contact with the camera nor the reporter.

this is daily business. nothing special.

after that, you googled him. you watched videos of him from youtube. you even made a folder on tik tok just for him, which was now filled with edits of your beloved dynamight. your friends didn’t really get you as you showed them his pictures and squealed how perfect of a human being he was – they thought he was hot, yes, but they also thought he was rude and boring.

however, you had no idea what was coming. who would know the dynamight would actually allow you to fuck yourself on his cock?

it happened after a fan meeting with the most liked heroes of the city. katsuki was one of the heroes who were attending (mainly for the money), and you obviously was one of the first ones who were in the line, waiting for an autograph and a selfie with your subject of adoration.

when katsuki then saw you, his jaw nearly dropped. your wide, glimmering eyes were filled with adoration as you stared at him, as if there was no one else in the area but him. katsuki was used to people ignoring him and going for the ’better’ heroes such as todoroki and izuku, so he didn’t often meet fans who were so solely focused on him. you were smiling so widely, so beautifully, cheeks flushed and eyes nearly tearing up. as if katsuki was a god to you.

however, the thing that really piqued his interest, was the clothes you were wearing. a tiny white top, cleavage full on display, the words ’dynamight’ printed on the fabric just above your boobs. as if you were asking for him, only him, to stare. a small tennis skirt made your figure look absolutely perfect in his eyes, a little slutty but not too much.

katsuki now knew you were there for him. to see him. to seek for acceptance, anything from him. he had never experienced attention like this and it really boosted his ego. finally someone was there to be all over him. finally the damn icy hot was being ignored by a beautiful girl who was instead focusing all her attention on him.

katsuki demanded you to not take the shirt off while you were fucking. he wanted to see his hero name written on your body, as if you were belonging to him, being his little fan girl who was pathetically whining on his cock like it was your life goal. well, it sort of was.

katsuki’s hands moved from your hips to your tits, shoving the fabric down and watching how your tits spilled out and bounced just over his hero name. it was a mesmerizing sight to him, something he swore he’d never forget. he grasped your hips again, guiding and bouncing you, his own hips slightly bucking against yours to really stretch your pussy out.

”fuck- ah- dynamightttt-” you moaned as you felt the occasional slam of his tip against your cervix. you looked down at him with half lidded eyes and cheeks blushed, your eyes meeting his red and hungry ones.

”’s too much, i-i’m tired” you whimpered, thighs trembling from the continuous muscle movement you were doing on him.

katsuki only groaned and smacked your ass gently, before grabbing it, fingers sinking into the flesh there.

”this was what you wanted, right? wearing that tiny fuckin’ skirt and this top-” he panted and murmured, hands finding your breasts again as he leaned forward a little and placed a few kisses on your sore nipples and skin. you whined.

”-asking for me to fuck you - no – asking for me to allow for you to fuck yourself on me” he continued rasping, eyes shooting a piercing look up at you. your fingers tangled in the back of his hair, his words encouraging you to go on and seek for that release that was slowly beginning to approach you like a damn tsunami.

”say it. say it you wanted my cock” katsuki groaned and leaned back again, hands guiding your hips again.

you nodded frantically, the knot of a powerful orgasm forming in your abdomen.

”wanted it – fuck – s’ much, wanted dynamight’s cock-” you found yourself moaning, mind nearly dizzy from the overwhelming pleasure in your body and the tiredness in your thighs.

”fuckin’ good girl-” he grunted and slammed his hips up against yours, making the air leave your lungs as the single stroke he did caused for your orgasm to crash over you. your thighs were trembling, hips twitching, nails digging into his muscular shoulders as you came undone, moaning his hero name.

once you finally came down from your high, you calmed down and relaxed yourself on his lap. however, katsuki grabbed you by the hips, lifted you up effortlessly and slammed you down on your back on the couch.

“you think i’m done, huh?”

[krems-chair]

I'm always interested in analyses that portray a romanced Solas as a predatory hee hee trickster god manipulating a young and impressionable Lavellan into falling for him and if that's your world state go ahead and live your truth b/c it's frankly none of my business, but I sincerely think there are those who forget that for a lot of people, a romanced Lavellan is (with all due respect to my own Solasmancing Inquisitor Rielle Lavelllan) batshit crazy. Having her boyfriend turn out to be a wolf god is honestly the least of her problems but oh boy is she unafraid to become one to fix this mess.

This is a woman who woke up in a dungeon with a glowing hand, figured out she could fix the world, and thought "fuck it, it's not like I'll have anything else better to do if Corypheus sticks around. Also. Everyone here kind of looks like they want to kill me, so maybe I'll stick with the protective powers that be for a minute." And then all of five seconds later she gets her hand snatched by a sketchy elven apostate who knows exactly what to do with her shiny new powers and cannot stop himself from having a Mr. Darcy level hand-flex after he lets it go (in my heart and soul this happens just out of the camera's gaze) and goes "hmm maybe there's something to be said for this world saving thing."

This is a woman who brought an entire fucking avalanche down on herself and three of her closest friends (and I do mean closest as in physical proximity, she doesn't know these people who are looking at her like she's Thedas' Next Top Idol) because even if it killed her it was the proper middle finger to send to the wannabe god bringing his army tap-dancing down the mountain pass towards her on the one night she had scheduled off to celebrate finally taking a W.

This is a woman going Take 2 Electric Boogaloo on waking up with no idea where she is and learning she was successful in spite-dragging herself up a different fucking mountain in a blizzard. Except now everyone is fighting wait nope now they're Kumbaya-ing a song Andraste's Herald should really probably be familiar with whoops, oh thank God, time for a side convo with the same apostate who's been trying to turn her entire life into a history class only for her to dive in headfirst (much to his initial abject horror) and get that good good discourse she needs since she can't go around arguing with everyone else like she wants to. "The orb is ours." You know what? Of course it is. But if they need the world saved from an elven oopsie, who better to right things than an elf? Fuck it, we ball.

This is a woman who misses being close to nature and goes positively feral at Skyhold, yeeting herself over balconies and banisters and turning the ancient fortress into her personal parkour playground because she's got energy to work off and shit to do, and if the path of least resistance to hunt down everyone she needs to talk to is coincidentally the same path that will absolutely wreck her knees by the time she's sixty, that's just how it has to be.

This is a woman who finds herself back at Haven with a man she's found it possible to be unfetteringly unabashedly herself with and thinks, "hey, maybe there could be more than the flirations we've exchanged over heated discussions and philosophical deep-dives, maybe I can have just one smooch as a treat." And when she feels her slowly unfurling passion reciprocated only to be shut down? She resolves herself to fight for this fledgling love and all the fade tongue that comes with it. This is a woman who gets the tiniest glimpse of what a retirement plan might look like after this whole saving the mortal world thing and buys all the way in.

This is a woman who has Grey Wardens to save from themselves, an empire trying to self-cannibalize, and still finds the time to go rescue a spirit because she, as a fellow comrade caught up in this mess, knows damn well that no innocent deserves to suffer if she can help it while she's got this insane amount of power she never asked for. And if that happens to lead to the man she feels safe enough to nap on the library couches with confessing at last the feelings she knows he's been smothering beneath his all-too-collected surface? Yeah, she'll take that W.

This is a woman who gets absolutely blasted head-over-ass into the fade and goes "honestly things were going a little TOO well." This is a woman who sneaks a peak at the closest fears of the companions she's come to know and love and goes "not on my fucking watch." This is a woman who sees that the man she forces herself to learn the old language for, her vhenan, fears being alone more than anything in the entire knowing world and resolves herself to ensuring it never comes to pass.

This is a woman who gets the opportunity to shape the government of a straight up country and runs around collecting wooden fucking halla in a palace full of elven servants with no time to dwell on that particularly cruel irony because out here it's scheme or be schemed. This a woman who collapses against a balcony railing after putting out some of the sickest literal and metaphorical dance moves The Game has ever seen, resigned to bear her ever-increasing burdens alone, only to find her heart and his horrible horrible hat extending a hand, promising her that if he is not alone, then neither is she.

Like, do you feel me here?

And then he dares to think something as sudden and damning as the truth is enough to keep her away? The queen of tough conversations and tougher choices? No, no, dear readers who have made it this far into my descent into madness.

Inquisitor Lavellan is a master-class in encouraging the odds against her to fuck around and find out. She is a rift-mending false-god-bashing politcally savvy terror upon all of Thedas. Solas (and all of the living breathing world) is lucky she took time out of her busy schedule to notice the way his smile softens when talking about spirits or appreciate the fluidity of his form when they're obliterating venatori out in the field. This man cradled her cheeks in his shaking hands, looked into weary and wide eyes and called her beautiful, and had the audacity to steal her heart before trying to peace out and take it with him.

If she's got to track down a real god this time and frog march him into the fade to reclaim both her heart and the future she fought for because all he wants to do is launch himself like a meteor towards achieving his greatest fear, if she has to spend hours lecturing him on the sheer audacity of his ass while spirits float by and realize they're grateful they never had the chance to take on a body and subject themselves to a verbal lashing this brutal, if she has to do cartwheels around him while dropping all sorts of sweet nothings in the language she is now quite proficient in until he gets it through his luminous gleaming skull that when she said "var lath vir suledin" my girl meant it? Then that's what she's going to do.

"I wish it could, vhenan."

Oh it's going to, buddy. Buckle up to get wrecked, to get absolutely loved and cherished you fool, because Inquisitor Lavellan is not the Dread Wolf's prey, she's his hunter.

[cyanide-siren]

i'm real, sweetheart

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Just a few days after Dean was killed by the Hell hounds and sent to Hell, you find out that you're pregnant. Now, four months later, he comes back.

Warnings: None, just angst with happy ending <3

☆☆

After Dean's death, you didn't eat, sleep, go to shower, leave your house for days – you were practically unable to do anything. You barely managed to get out of bed and distanced yourself even from Sam. You didn't answer phone calls and eventually turned off your phone, ignoring Bobby and Sam ringing your doorbell. You simply sealed yourself inside your house, lines of salt in front of windows and doors to keep everything else outside as well. A mere precaution.

And sitting alone at home in tears, piles of used tissues and self-pity, it truly felt like a mistake you could have avoided if you had enough self-control.

It was the worst heartbreak you had and would ever go through, at least that's how it felt like. You hadn't experienced a death of a loved one before, but of course nobody would get used to losing someone important to them, not really. It truly felt like you could never move on from this.

You had known since the beginning of getting to know Dean and how he lived his life that it would be a mistake to let yourself fall in love with a hunter.

However, something unexpected happened soon after Dean's death. Something you hadn't seen coming at all. Just a few days after his death, you had started to feel sick and would vomit over and over again until your stomach hurt like hell and throat was burning.

You were pregnant.

You had stared at the pregnancy test, those two haunting lines, for what felt like forever, sitting on the toilet seat all alone. Unintentionally you had stopped breathing, your hands were shaking and heart racing so fast you felt like a heart attack wasn't far away.

Fuck. This wasn't what you had planned. Sure, you'd like to have kids but right now? Without Dean by your side? You weren't ready to be a single mother, even though you knew for sure that Sam and Bobby would be there for you and help you. But neither of them were the father of your child.

Having a part of Dean inside you, still with you, made you burst into tears for the hundredth time.

☆☆

Four months passed. Sam had tried everything he could to bring his brother back to him, back to you, but it was useless. There was no way to bring him back. He didn't bring you to the mess of several plans he had because a voice in his head whispered that they'd all fail and you'd only get false hope when there was no real hope left anymore.

That was, until Dean one day casually showed up at his doorstep. There he suddenly was, more alive than ever, looking at Sam, Bobby awkwardly standing next to him. Sam's first reaction was obviously that this was a demon dressed as Dean or a shapeshifter but it wasn't. He was Dean, his brother.

His brother had returned from Hell among the living. How? That was a good question which didn't yet have an answer.

"Have you gone to see Y/N yet?" Sam had asked after a while of chatting and trying to figure out what was going on.

"No, i haven't," Dean mumbled, his gaze falling into his hands on his lap. He was more anxious to face you than Sam for a reason he wasn't sure about. Maybe because Sam was way more used to the life of demons and Hell than you were.

"You'll cause her a damn heart attack if you just show up at her doorstep like this," Bobby pointed out, standing next to him arms crossed against his chest.

Sam knew about your pregnancy, of course he did. Your pregnancy wasn't too far in yet to show clearly that you were expecting a child, but if you wore tight clothes such as a top, people could definitely notice your growing stomach.

"Well, how should i do that then?" Dean asked.

God, going to see you again was the first thing he would have wanted to do after crawling out of his grave. He missed you more than anything else. The thought of you was one of the only things that somewhat helped him to stay sane in Hell.

☆☆

Sam and Bobby were coming for a visit tonight to have dinner with you. Sam came over to your place quite often these days to keep you company, knowing that you barely saw anyone, having almost no social life.

When they stepped inside your house, and you saw the third, highly unexpected visitor, the entire world around you stopped for a moment. Your body froze still and for a while it felt like your organs stopped working. You weren't able to get air into your lungs, heart felt like stone and brain not able to comprehend whatever the hell was happening. It all felt like you were dreaming or hallucinating.

"Y/N," Dean said. No, it was just someone who looked like Dean. It wasn't the real Dean. The Dean you fell in love with five years ago had died, there was no doubt about it. He was dead. This man, creature, in front of you? A demon, shapeshifter – whatever kind of monster, just not a human being.

When Dean took a cautious step towards you, you suddenly got the ability to move again, instantly taking two steps back towards the kitchen counter.

"Y/N, i –"

"We already tried that," Sam said, having expected you to have even worse breakdown. "And he's not a shapeshifter either."

Before giving Dean a chance to explain himself, you quickly grabbed a jar of salt from the table, opened the lid and threw the salt on Dean's face. He closed his eyes before getting salt into his eyes, seeing this sort of reaction coming.

Nothing happened.

You stared at Dean with wide eyes, throat feeling tight and chest heavy when Dean looked at you after brushing the salt off his face and hair.

The look in his eyes was full of both sadness and relief. "Y/N, sweetheart," Dean said quietly. "It's me."

Your eyes started watering but you forced the tears to stay in. "No," you breathed out and turned away from him, starting to pace back and forth, holding your head with your hands. Panic started to grow inside you. "No, no, no. I'm going crazy. I'm hallucinating, it's not real, not real."

Sam walked towards you and laid his hands on your shoulders, making you to look him into his eyes. "Y/N, listen," Sam said calmly and spoke his words slowly, making sure you understood everything through the pounding in your head. "He's not a demon or anything else than our Dean. We don't know how, but he got back."

You only looked at Sam for a moment like he had gone crazy. Dean was dead. He wasn't just casually standing in your kitchen after the past four months of being gone.

"It's not a trick, i promise," Sam assured you, squeezing your shoulder.

You slowly turned your head towards Dean, who had kept his eyes on you the entire time. All he wanted to do right now was to grab you in his arms and squeeze your body so hard that your bodies would merge into one. When you made eye contact with him, his eyes started to tear up too.

You fully burst out crying and let the tears flow freely down your cheeks. Dean walked towards you and finally wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into the tightest hug he had ever given to you.

"I missed you so much," you cried, clinging on his leather jacket with your fists, afraid that he really was just an illusion and would vanish away from you any second now. That this was all a dream and you'd wake up to the cruel and cold reality where he didn't exist anymore.

"I missed you too, love," Dean whispered, breath hot against your hair.

"You're real," you sighed, still trying to convince yourself that it was all real, taking the familiar smell of him into your nose.

"I'm real, sweetheart," Dean confirmed.

"W-what happened?" you asked, pulling away from him to be able to look into his eyes, being completely at loss of words. "How did you... how are you here? You died, Dean."

"I don't know yet," Dean admitted. "I'm trying to figure it out."

You only looked at Dean for a moment, trying to take in the sight in front of you and push it into your head that he really was there.

You cupped his face hard into your hands, squeezing his cheeks as you pulled him into a deep kiss.

"Maybe we should come back another time," Sam quietly mumbled to Bobby, who agreed. Without another word, they left you and Dean alone, slowly closing the front door after them as they returned to their car.

The kiss was everything you had dreamed of ever since you had lost him. You had feared that in time you'd start forgetting how his lips felt like on yours, how his touch felt like when his hands were wandering around your body. Now you wouldn't have to worry about it anymore, having him back – hopefully longer than just for a moment.

As Dean pulled you closer against him by your waist, he felt something different against his stomach. He pulled his head away from yours, breaking the needy kiss and furrowed his eyebrows.

"What?" you asked.

You were wearing a t-shirt, so there was only a thin fabric covering your belly. Dean looked down your body, and it didn't take you more than a few seconds to realize that he had noticed something different about you.

You took a step back away from Dean, covering your stomach with your arms.

"Y/N...?" Dean started, but you didn't answer right away, trying to form the words into something you could physically pronounce.

"I... i'm pregnant," you mumbled, looking away from Dean.

Dean's face fell. Had he heard you correctly? You were pregnant? He kept his gaze on your stomach which you were trying to hide behind your arms. Dean gently wrapped his fingers around your arm, slowly pulling your arms to the side to be able to rest his palm against your stomach.

"There's... a baby in here?" Dean asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Mhm," you mumbled, feeling anxious.

"When did you find out about it?"

"Just a little after you... you know," you said and shrugged, not able to get the words of ending up in Hell out of your mouth.

"Oh," Dean sighed. He couldn't even imagine what you must have been feeling and going through, having to deal with that alone. To deal with that before having recovered from the loss of him. He, himself, had ended up in literal Hell, but he cared much more about your feelings, your sadness, than his own sufferings. You were his priority and would always stay as one.

Dean tried to process the entire thing in his head for a moment. This wasn't something he had at all expected to hear during this surprise visit of his. You weren't sure what to say either.

"Yes," you confirmed. Your cheeks were wet from tears and more was still coming, but now you managed to let out a laugh, which made Dean smile. The sad tears were slowly turning into happy tears.

"So, i... i'll be a dad?" Dean asked, not believing the words to be true.

Him? ...a dad?

He had been through misery and torture in their all forms for several decades, which for you was only four months. After all that suffering, he could simply come back home to you and find out that you were expecting a baby? His child? That was too good to be true. Dean felt like he didn't deserve such thing, especially after everything he had done to those poor souls in Hell.

Dean was able to come back to a woman who he loved and who loved him with all her heart. A woman who he could build a family with during these dark times.

"I love you," Dean said, holding your tear stained face in his warm hands.

All he wanted to do tonight was to hold you. The dinner on the table was starting to turn cold but you sensed that Sam and Bobby hadn't actually come here for a dinner, not as their main intention at least.

"I love you too," you said, the tip of your nose touching his. "But don't you dare to ever sell your soul to a devil anymore. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Dean smiled and planted a kiss on your forehead, pressing your head against the crook of his neck and brushed his fingers softly through your hair.

Dean was terrified, of course he was. Even though you and the pregnancy made him the happiest man alive, he was scared. Scared of a demon or other monster coming for you and ripping the happiness away from him. He didn't trust to keep good things in his life.

You were the light in his darkness, and he was going to do everything he could to keep you safe. To keep all three of you safe so Dean could provide you a life you deserved.

☆☆

[dreamsteddie]

There is an AITA out there that I can't find but it's been haunting me for weeks with visions of semi-angsty Steddie that I need to release onto the world. (If anyone happens to know what I'm talking about hit me up and I'll link it)

Edit: @jazzathebunny found the original AITA from Reddit linked Here for anyone who wants to read it. I'm definitely not doing exactly the same premise but this was my jumping off point 😊

Part Two! ------

Modern AU, Eddie and the guys are a moderately successful local band in the Chicago area playing gigs on the weekends and doing small tours whenever they all have the time. Gareth and Jeff are both in college while Eddie and Freak are both working part-time at a game store. Eddie managed to lock down that assistant manager position that lets him work 30 hours a week with weekends off for gigs. All in all, it's a pretty sweet deal and they can't complain.

Eddie had sworn off dating after a small handful of disastrous relationship attempts in their first year in the city. He dismisses any advances from people who attend their shows and tries not to think about how much he wants to make a genuine connection with someone and have something real. He's been burned one too many times to try and make something with someone he met in a bar or at work.

He knows the guys talk about it behind his back sometimes, he catches Jeff and Gareth fervently whispering to each other and stopping when they catch him entering the room one time too many to not suspect they're talking about him and he can't think of anything else going on in his life that they would feel the need to whisper about.

The fervent conversations take a slight uptick one day and about a week and a half after they do, Gareth hits him up and tells him he wants to set Eddie up with a guy from one of his classes. At first, Eddie is skeptical and cites all the reasons why he doesn't want to try with anyone right now but eventually, Jeff jumps in to plea the case and Freak jumps in on top of that and under the combined weight of his best friends he agrees to meet up with this Steve guy.

The guys set up the whole thing and before Eddie knows it it's Saturday night and he's wearing his best black jeans and a gray button-down, untucked, to go on an honest to God blind date like his life is some low-budget romcom.

Steve is not at all what Eddie thought he would be. Not the kind of guy he thought his friends would pick out for him given they know he usually goes for other alternatives like himself. Steve, who is shyly waving him over and getting out of his seat to great him, is the very epitome of prep. Well-fitted polo, light blue chinos, and what Eddie assumes this guy thinks are casual loafers. He's handsome to be sure, a 12/10 at least with perfect hair and defined biceps but Eddie is fairly sure he's being punked.

But, Eddie doesn't want to be rude so he goes to meet Steve at the table, confirming just in case that he's actually here to meet with a guy named Eddie. Steve gives him a bit of a confused look, saying that Gareth showed him a couple pictures of Eddie before he agreed to meet and figured he'd done the same for Eddie off Steve's Instagram. Gareth had, in fact, not done anything of the sort but they both dismiss it and get on with their date.

In all honesty, Eddie is expecting it to be a complete wash, but it turns out that even if Steve is not at all what Eddie would have previously said what his type, Steve is damn near perfect. He's funny, kind, a little bitchy, and even though he proves himself to be every bit the sports nerd he looks like he doesn't turn his nose up at Eddie's own much more classically nerdy interests. By the end of the date, Eddie has a new type and that type is Steve Harrington. He's quick to lock down a second date for the next weekend which Steve happily agrees to. They exchange numbers and Steve gives Eddie a chaste kiss on the cheek that has him floating all the way home.

Steve texted him that next morning letting him now he had a great time and is really looking forward to their next date and Eddie thinks this might be the start of something big for him. When he gets to practice he's clearly still floating on cloud nine and in his own little world designing their marriage invitations and matching tombstones so he doesn't notice the sly grins on his bandmates' faces.

"So...how'd it go last night? Everything you dreamed it would be?" Gareth asks, a strange glint in his eyes that Eddie doesn't clock.

Eddie goes on and on about how nice Steve was and how he might be The One, thanking Gareth profusely. Freak looks pleased for him, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder in congratulations but when Eddie finally tunes back into the real world he's greeted by Gareth's livid expression and Jeff's overly concerned one.

He asks the guys what the fuck is up and it turns out that Gareth and Jeff set this whole thing up as a prank of sorts. Eddie was never supposed to hit it off with Steve who Gareth selected specifically because he's a "totally brain-dead prep" and as far away as someone could get from Eddie's previous relationships. He was supposed to be someone Eddie could go on a date with and not form a connection with without getting completely burned at the end like all his previous relationships in the hopes of getting him out of his slump.

Jeff was in on it as well. He wanted to get Eddie back out there, so when Gareth presented the plan he sat in on a couple of Gareth's general credit business class sessions to help pick the guy out.

After Jeff and Gareth finish explaining he does a complete 180 and just...leaves. In any other situation, he would be raging and verbally tearing his friends a new asshole but instead, he completely disengages and walks out the garage door, ignoring his friends' shouts to come back.

He goes back home, socked and hurt and so very confused about how the hell he found himself in this position when his phone lights up.

New Message: Steve H.

Fuck.

-------

Part two coming soon??? Maybe???? We'll see.

[jupiterpiss]

Pretty pleeasssee do virgin female reader having her first time with Remmick 🙏

AHEM! So. I know y’all liked how I wrote Remmick last time and I wanna say THANK YOU!! But this one is a bit softer him? He still banters and everything but I think he’s a shit ton nicer LMAOO he’s for sure not cursing anyone here. Maybe ooc him butttt idk I don’t really think so, I think this is just less scary him. ALSO SLIGHTLY PROOFREAD!!

Warnins: smut. That’s basically it with just a tiny bit of plot but HARDLY. He sniffs readers' panties and keeps them. MUNCHING. He whines and begsssss. Uhhh.. she jerks him off. Softer sex, nothing fucking crazy this time around. Cursing/swearing not actual curses like last time. Idk what else.. mentions of smacking all over the body. He smacks her tits and thighs mostly NOT HARD OR ANYTHING TERRIBLE just like in general. Marking.. no mention of what it looks like necessarily cause marking can look different on every skin tone, so it’s just hinted towards it. That should be all!’

It’s half past midnight when you open the door. Robe tightly pulled across your body, hand tighter around the door knob.

You’d been rudely awoken by some loud knocking at your door, flinching so violently you practically shook the whole bed.

The loud raps.. not even. Pounds. It damn near made you consider if the police were at your door.

It was brutal. Your whole day was brutal, with loud customers and a rush that lasted five hours. Working in the restaurant wasn’t for the weak. That was for fucking sure. You were spent. Done for the night. wanted to be dead to the world, curled up nice and tight in your sheets.

Apparently not, since God had to come around and force you to deal with some more bullshit.

And now.. the beating of a lifetime was gonna happen to the white man that stood before you.

“Remmick-“

“Baby-“

“I don’t have time for this tonight-“

“I know baby.. but shit— I haven’t seen you for a few nights now.”

You raise a brow at him, “Right. And that gives you the right to come round’ and bang on shit like you own the place?”

He shakes his head, “no.. no but.. I really did miss you and- look.. just lemme on in. Please.”

You stare at him. Face unimpressed, annoyance bubbling under your skin. You’re pissed, of course. He ripped you out of your slumber and is now attempting to rip you out of your home.. well, trying to get inside but still. Same intentions.

Doesn’t help either that he looks good tonight, with his hair messy, beard more grown in and the collar of his shirt unbuttoned showing off that golden chain you often imagine hanging over your face while he— he’s a sight. A sight you want to pounce on.. but your fucking tired. And you already know that his presence equals persistence.

He’s been at this for about two whole months. Begging, pleading to be let inside. That he’ll be nice and slow, that he won’t hurt you. Been outside complimenting you, lusting after you and has even dropped to his knees several times just to get his point across.

It’s a little more tame now compared to when he first came to realize exactly why you wouldn’t allow him in, despite the slick he could smell pooling between your thighs. Fucking huffed and puffed like a dog in heat, whined like a dying animal. Practically collapsed on the fucking floor.

“Yer a fuckin virgin?” He muttered, face a bit shocked. You nodded, “problem with that?”

“Jesus fuckin Christ.. no. No. Never. Just—“ he sighed, loud. Shook his head and cleared his throat, “don’t know why you kept that in for so long.”

“Never asked.”

His brows shoot up, “I had to fuckin ask?”

Yours furrow, confused, “course’. Why the fuck would I tell you otherwise?” And that causes him to stutter, mouth opening and closing, a thousand emotions running across his face before he settles on looking mildly surprised, “Well.. figured I should somewhat know that, right sugar? Pretty fuckin important now, is it?”

Important. Right. With how he reacted, jerked his head back in shock and then moved himself so god damn close to the door, the barrier of the threshold had to physically ward him off by lightly burning him.. you should’ve kept it to yourself a little longer. For simple amusement.

You shrug, “sure.. don’t change much about your problem here, though. Still can’t come in.”

“Shit— well, that’s just fucked now. You can’t mess with a man’s emotions like that!” He argues, porch creaking as he steps away from the door, “It ain’t kind.”

“Kind? I’m being kind to myself. I mean-“ you give a soft chuckle, sniffling, “I can hardly fit in my own fingers.. let alone yours-“ you gesture a hand towards him. He still has blood dried underneath the fingernails, the curve of his wrist having a smudge of mud on it, and his hands rough with the years. Really.. aside from just wanting to fuck with him, you truly believe they would be a rough stretch.

He shakes his head, scratching at his cheek as he looks down, face tight and lips pulled into a thin line.

“It would be a stretch and I just can’t do that tonight.” You give a small frown, though he knows fully well it’s mocked.

He places a hand against his face, sliding across his mouth as he looks up. Pained. Like he’s silently asking God why he must suffer.

“I.. feel that being mauled by a bear is easier than this. This is just—“ he throws up his hands, smacking them back down against his sides.

“The God’s sent you to fuckin punish me that’s what this is.”

What a Greek tragedy. you’re certain that even now, he still believes this is his punishment for all his wrong doing.

Really.. He needs you.

Needs you like the blood that he craves, like the flesh he rips between his teeth. The need for community, for friendship and love.. it doesn’t shine a single fucking light to need that boils deep in his bones. That primal instinct to claim.

He thinks he’s actually losing it. Going insane, goes too far to claim all his brain power and energy, his blood, is drained right to his dick. Making him act up more than usual.

He’s going crazy.

All because he believes he’s the one who deserves to take your virginity.

That he needs to or he’ll die, that your rejection will burn him just as badly as the sun. He’s dramatic. Too dramatic, for his own good. Sometimes you wonder if he has a part time job at a theatre or something given how well he acts, how much he emphasizes each emotion.

Like now.

You blink, “no.”

He hangs his head, a loud sigh leaving him. You don’t close the door knowing he won’t leave.. he never does. Doesn’t know how to, and you would know given how often you close the door on him. He just bangs the door harder. Gets louder.

You give a long exhale, tired. Of him and of the day.

“What.. you're sad you can’t come on in and get this pussy?” you ask, lazily. Calm and neutral, as if you're speaking of the cloud and trees.

He nods but keeps his head low, still hanging down, “fuck else would I be sad for.”

“I’ll let you eventually.. just, not now. I’m tired.”

Remmick gives a breathy laugh, tongue running along his teeth, not sharp. Not yet. Still in his human form, with uneven teeth and a wicked smile. He clicks his tongue, “always fuckin tired-“

You shrug, “well I worked a long fuckin shift, you would know what that’s like if you were employed.”

He lifts his head, hands stuck on his hips as his face scrunches into something unpleased. Annoyed, just as much as you are.

“Don’t.. just— Jesus, just a taste. Nothing more.”

Another long exhale, but this one drags on into a groan, “it’s always something with you. Seriously. Can’t stick your tongue into my cooch, so now you have to harass me every night?” your lip curls, shaking your head as you rest your hip against the door.

“I ain’t harassing you-“ you interrupt, “yes you are,” but he ignores it, “I’m just trying to show you how determined I am. I know I can treat you right.. I know it. Can do more than any other mutherfuckn’ random out here can. Baby..”

He takes a step forward, hands moving to the frame, holding himself up just past the threshold that won’t let him linger close. Can’t, not without you giving the right to do so.

“.. when I say I’ll have you shaking.. begging me on back, humpin me silly till’ you can’t no more.. I mean that. not just outta my own ego, it ain’t about just that. But because you deserve a little lovin.”

He shrugs, “I want to be the one to give you that lovin.”

You take it in. Silently. Slowly. Let the words mingle through your brain, sink into your flesh and coat the back of your teeth. You can’t distinguish whether the rumbling feeling in your chest, that tight pull and yank is your nerves or butterflies. They feel so similar, it’s really hard to make of what you should feel.

Not what he wants you to feel. But he stands there all the same, not in the sense of being none the wiser to your own predicament, he knows what he’s doing. Knows how steadily he’s been pulling back the curtain. Whisking away that fear you hold in your chest, that anxiety.

The heaviness sex brings.. where you can speak big but do little. He knows it. Knows that when you speak nasty, with such vulgarity, teasing him— none of it was true. Not really. Surely you wanted it but.. doing it? Shit.

In all that silence and time, eventually you speak, but it’s not exactly what he suspected would come out your mouth.

“You’ll let me ride..” you trail off, eyeing him up and down.

He nods. You narrow your gaze, “and hold my hand?”

He nods again, “fuckin course. Can’t just let you on Willy nilly. Already too eager for yer’ own good.”

“Can’t blame me,” you mutter. He grins, “no one is blaming you,” he raises a hand, “no judgment from me. Yer’ good.”

He watches your lip twitch, pulling down slightly before you look away. Caught in your thoughts, he isn’t even sure if you really are hearing him.

You won’t buckle, not easily. But he teases anyway, grin sharp but eyes soft, “nervous? Don’t gotta’ be.”

Your eyes shoot towards his, brows furrowing, “no. Just thinkin is all. Can’t do that now?”

He just holds up his hands, mock surrender. As if to say, ‘no problem with me’.

You shift in place, socked feet cold despite how warm the rest of you is. The floor doesn’t give much answers, stays quiet despite your piercing gaze. It’s not going to give any advice, can’t, but you partially wish that something would help you deal with this.

To say whether you should push or grab. And Remmick ain’t gonna give an unbiased answer.

Quiet floor, hungry man creature.

There’s no winning.

“You’ll go slow?”

You don’t need to look at him to know that wolf smile of his is on full display, “real slow. Think I’m fuckin dead.”

“You are.” Don’t need to look either to know he shrugs, “Further proves my point.”

You won’t admit it. But how you look up, dead set on him, eyes narrowed and almost looking mean.

He thinks you're going to shoo him away.

Instead, you give a low hum, then a sharp inhale before saying, “Don’t fuck this up.”

He answers quick, “I won’t.”

Your brows go up, “I mean it.”

He matches you, face stern and honest. Open.

“Me too.”

—

His hands are just as rough as you thought they would be. Dried, cracked on the fingertips, feel and sounds like fucking sand paper when he glides it across your skin.

He needs lotion, you make note of telling him that later.

But you moan all the same when he runs his fingers across your clothed pussy. Even shudder a bit. It’s odd.. really. You’ve touched yourself before, that isn’t foreign but from someone else? Your nerves are on fire despite how cold he is, how his warmth is no match for yours. He’s almost freezing, but that only adds to it. Adds to how you shudder each time he smooths a hand over your stomach, fingertips dipping across the curve of your pelvis.

It’s slow. Soft even. It almost feels like he’s trying to memorize this, you. Mapping you out, running his hand in every crevice and curve, watches your face with his ears perked, tries to catch each of your emotions. Studying you.

It should be sweet, should comfort. But instead it makes you nervous, intentionally looking away so you can somewhat ease the anxiety rolling off you.

Unfortunately for you, Remmick isn’t too fond of that. Your attempts to hide while he’s trying so desperately to understand you. He doesn’t say anything, but rather places a hand on your cheek.

Makes you look at him. Stare at him.

“Gonna taste you, okay?”

You give a shaky breath, but nod.

The bed creaks under the weight shift, his breath warm and kisses wet as he makes his way down. You expect him to procrastinate some more, to run his flesh over your own just to feel you, feel the weight of this moment. You expect him to map the expansion of your thighs, soft skin that has yet to feel the roughness of another’s hand, has yet to be marked or awarded with hickies.

Instead, as he moves down, both his hands work to reveal you. One lifts your nightgown, robe long removed since he was allowed in, and yanks it over your stomach. His other starts urging your panties down, yanking them though he fails to actually get them past your hips.

Upon them being stuck, it momentarily stalls him. He gives a confused look, glancing down to check why you won’t let them off, hips down against the bed as you make no attempt at helping him.

His mouth opens slowly, the words willing themselves on his tongue as he goes to ask you to lift your hips. Help him out a little. But they’re never spoken, dead and buried as you hand grabs at his bicep, squeezing twice to get his attention.

“What?” His brows furrow, eyes flickering between your own. You don’t answer him, just grab at his sweaty button up, slowly pull him towards you.

He follows your hands, the pull of his shirt as you guide him away from between your legs and towards your stomach. Force his head down, bowed, curled over you. It takes him a second to understand what the hell you're asking for, but he eventually falls in rhythm. Start kissing against your stomach, light nips and the occasional lick over the small bruises he leaves behind.

You give a small sigh, but it’s not out of content. Not yet at least. With each kiss, he tries to go back down, but you don’t let him. Force him to stay with a firm hand on his head, which coaxes a few muttered groans and grumbles against you. Small annoyed, “Jesus just-“ before you plant him back up, followed by, “I’m trynna taste you-“

He doesn’t get to complain long, though, because you force his attention up. Force him to kiss just above your lower stomach and to above your belly button. Then, when he kisses a bit further up, you pull the fabric of your nightgown up with him. He notices, obviously, and gives a small chuckle against you.

Gives a few quick kisses against you before muttering, “coulda just told me what you wanted.”

You give a small hum, shifting your hips a bit closer to his, “where’s the use in that? Wanted you to figure it out yourself.”

Remmick nods at that, lifting himself from you so he rests on his knees and gives him room to see you sprawled out underneath him, legs open as you try to subtly get closer.

The small whoosh of the fabric as he yanks it up over your breasts, revealing them to him and the night, sending a chill through you. Goosebumps rise across your flesh, breath shaky and the tips of your fingers tingle with how much your nerves take over.

He notices all that. Doesn’t deter him one bit as he goes back down, where he mutters against your chest, “Figured it out,” and sucks your nipple into his mouth.

It’s an odd sensation, to have something so wet and warm wrapped around you— sucking you at that. Sure, your fingers worked wonders. A form of foreplay that first started as mere curiosity, something stemmed from you hearing a friend talking about it.. how her man tended to suck at her tits before plowing her home.

“It emphasizes it.. ya know?” You had no clue.. but upon your own discovery later that night, it became part of your routine.

But this? Now you feel like kissing her and thanking her before kissing her again.

He tugs lightly, licks and pulls but never yanks, never scrapes his teeth. There’s a small voice in you that notes how easily he could bite you now, how willing you are to give him the opportunity to do so. But he doesn’t take it.

Don’t need to, not now. Just loves, like he said. Neither breasts are unnoticed, untouched. Both given equal attention as grabs at one tit while he’s busy sucking on the other, maneuvers between the two.

You aren’t even aware of your hips rocking, how you knock against his pelvis, soft rolling. Not aware until he removes his hand from where it was lightly squeezing against your breast to rest against your hip.

Not moving, or adjusting, just there.

You give a soft whimper after a particularly rougher suck, one that you’re certain will mark. That you’ll feel later, breasts sore and achy from the attention he brings.

He plants a kiss against it, gives a final lick to the space between your breasts before stopping all together.

He smirks at the whine that leaves you, “eager, huh?”

You don’t respond, don’t need to when he answers for you, “yeah.. yeah. It’s okay, ere’ to make it all better, that’s my job.”

Upon the last bit of his sentence you give him a funny look, “your job?”

He cocks his head, “yeah. Called ere’ for a reason.. say I ain’t employed but pleasurin you is a full time act.”

He doesn’t let you think too hard about it, meant to be a joke though it holds no humor— he partially means it.

Plants a few lazy kisses onto your lips, cheeks and chin before making his way to mutter into your ear, “Gonna taste ya now. Stop stallin,” and nips it before hauling himself back down.

Hauling isn’t really the correct term. Not with how quickly he moves, one would think you threw garlic water at him. You gasp as he's already tugging at your panties, putting a hand under your lower back to get you to gear your hips up.

You expect him to discard the flimsy fabric, off somewhere into the room or onto the bed. Forgotten. No.

That’s too normal for him.

Remmick stuffs his face with them, takes a deep sniff, one you can see with how sharp his inhale is and how his chest expands before dropping into a long exhale.

He doesn’t even move it from his face as he mutters,“Oh baby… They make candy after you.” It’s muffled behind your panties, not that he cares.

Not that you care much either, face slightly pulled into disgust but really the slick between your thighs worsens. You can feel a second heartbeat already, pounding louder than the one in your chest.

“You’re nasty.” You groan, hunger hidden behind disgust. He only smirks, removing it from his face before stuffing it into his pocket, for safekeeping.

You don’t expect to see those ever again.

That thought is long forgotten when he shoves both of your legs over his shoulder, feet hanging in the air as he props himself onto his stomach.

Groans low, deep rumble that you feel through your own skin, “Fuckin starvin..”

The first lick feels weird. Wet. Sticky. Flesh against flesh, texture so foreign it feels uncomfortable. Too much and too little at once, makes your toes curl but not in pleasure.

Not yet.

You’re shaking without realizing it. Nerves shot. It’s almost like your antsy, or cold, but he feels your legs keep twitching, unable to be still. You wiggle your toes, or keep fidgeting with the fabric of your bedsheets. He ignores it, at first, chooses to give another long lick.

But no sound. Not even a gasp. He feels you shake your foot then, a soft rhythm of tapping, wiggling you a bit. Like you're bored.

He looks up, sees you looking at the ceiling.

You hear the smack before you feel it, a small ‘wack’ that immediately makes you flinch, the skin of your thigh warm to the touch, blazed. You immediately look down, “The fuck is you doing?!”

You're met with his frown, features tugged down into a displeased look, “You ain’t focusing.”

You scoff, throwing up a hand, “I am focused!”

“Yer’ fuckin fidgeting.. acting like I’m some fuckin pussy doctor and not yer lover.”

You give a small ‘psh’, which Remmick doesn’t take too fondly too but before he can sass you on it, you cut him off, “I don’t know how to react! Don’t feel much either, just you..” you gesture down to where you're open for him. Wet and inviting, yet both of you ignore it, “.. screwing around.”

“You ain’t given me a chance to do much yet, hardly even got into a rhythm. Hell.. I ain’t even stick in my tongue yet.”

You blink at him, slow, “you did. I felt it.”

He cocks his head back, “not fully. Just— look at me. Okay? Focus.”

It's only when you nod that he drops his head back down, eyes remaining on you to ensure you actually stick to your word.

You keep your gaze down on him, watch as his eyes drop from your own back down to your flesh, which he gazes upon with hunger, eyes half lidded and mouth drooling. This time, instead of just feeling it, you watch him stick out his tongue and run in between your folds.

It feels weird, wet again. Not extremely gratifying but you wait silently, continue watching. He gives a few other kitten licks, swirling his tongue around, purposely avoiding your clit.. not that you are any wiser to what he’s doing.

Eventually, he does get into a rhythm, one that slowly starts to spark some pleasure.. just not enough. The hair on his beard is prickly, scratches against your flesh in a way you’re certain will give you some type of rug burn.

It ain’t a whole lot. Really.. you're starting to think nothing is gonna come of this. That he’s just poking around down there and hopefully will give up soon.

You’re not really fond of it.

Not until he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. Hard.

Your hips jolt, a sharp ‘hm’ leaving you. He gives another light smack to your thigh, playful, and continues sucking on the bundle of nerves. Swishes around between his lips, licks and lightly tugs— not enough to hurt but enough to make you yelp, hand gripping at the bedsheets. He flicks his tongue back and forth slowly, swirls it around again before collecting enough spit in his mouth to dribble it over your pussy.

You don’t find yourself to be the most vocal, despite living alone. Just heavy breathing and the occasional gasp, not that you cared about the amount of noise you made— but here? Now? He’s got you practically singing to the fucking choir, loud moans followed by gasps that he happily soaks in, basically jumping for joy as he continues his attack on you.

Remmick releases your clit from his warm mouth, tongue slathering down to lick at your entrance, skirting around the hole. He decides he needs more room, so brings two fingers up, spreading you further apart for his eyes to bask on before he shoves his tongue deep inside you. That pulls a loud moan from you.. and then a few more when he starts to fuck his tongue into you. Shoves it in deep and flicks his tongue up, as if he’s looking for something.

He doesn’t think he’ll reach far, but the taste of you— sweet, tangy. Coats his tongue and swirls its way down to his teeth. Leaves traces of your own essence across his taste buds. He doesn’t really care how far he reaches.

He’s a messy eater. Saliva drips down from his mouth, down your cunt and down your ass. He keeps spitting and swishing saliva around, coating both you and him in saliva, soaked in it. There’s so much, it only intensifies the sounds more— the slick of you as he runs his tongue up and down, mixing cum and spit together.

Your close to cumming, can feel that sharp pull. Usually it comes slow, a small linger of something bittersweet lying on your tongue, your fingers fast and hips jerky. With Remmick, however, it’s different. Instead of slow it comes in fast, and more violent. Tangles your guts together and brings a low hum between your legs, forces you to grip his hair and grab at his shoulder, nails indenting the skin that lies beneath his clothes.

He gives a low hum of approval, even goes as far to shuffle you closer with one hand, the other occupied with rubbing your clit.

“Please-“ you softly moan, voice soft and damn near broken. Remmick doesn’t say anything in return, but he hears you loud and clear.

Given an inch and he takes a whole mile— he decides to further the pleasure and stuffs a finger inside you, a noticeably tight fit.

Only then he pulls away, “you weren’t joking— shit.. I can hardly fit one in.”

Your eyes widened at that, panicked. He looks up, upon being met with your silence, only to see you stare back at him scared.

“Just gotta stretch it out, it’ll be fine.” He waves it off, finger still resting inside.

You narrow your gaze, “stretch it?”

He nods, “yeah, s’ normal. Relax.” And then he pulls it out just to place it right back in, a slow pace that begins to build. That shuts you up, but it doesn’t necessarily keep you any less panicked.

Despite your panic, he continues licking at you, other hand slowly trailing over your stomach and up to your breasts that are no longer exposed, the nightgown back over your stomach.

He slips his hand under it, grabbing at your chest. You give a soft whimper, your hand placed over his on top of the fabric, making him give a firm squeeze to your boob.

“Taste so fuckin good-“ he mutters, his breath warm against you. With the grip on his hair you force him closer to you, rocking your hips slightly to urge him on.

You can feel your orgasm bubbling over, gripping its way through your cooze and up your legs, over to your chest where it pounds like a drum. Your back arches more, hips pressing against him as you practically hump his face. Your moans are more whiny, more pitched. You’re close, and he knows it. Can tell how much you're dripping down his hand, not even two fingers in. But he tries.. works you through accepting another, which funnily enough glides right in.

He gives a surprised hum, “look at that, already a pro.” He looks up at you, a small smile in place.

however, you're too caught up in the bliss of it. Head rolled back, mouth dropped open chanting silent prayers— neither for God or any higher being, but for Remmick. His name comes out in soft whispers and whines, calls of the devil. So sweet.. so nice it makes him fuck his fingers into you faster.

You think you might sob, and can feel yourself close to it. That tightness of your throat, the wobble of your lip. But you hold it back, don’t really want to feed into his ego. You refuse to be completely ruined from his fingers alone.

But the way your orgasm comes crashing over, body shaking, hips jerky and uncoordinated. He doesn’t need you to cry to know he’s achieved exactly what he’s came to do.. and he hasn’t even fucked you yet.

He takes his fingers out, replacing it with his mouth and tongue. Takes all you can give with a loud groan and a very light slap to the underside of your tit. He lets you ride it out, sucks on your clit until you start patting him on the head urging him to stop, that it’s too much.

He comes up, beard wet and hair messy, gripped and pulled making the ends stand every which way. Pulls his hands away from you completely, both resting on the bed as he crawls his way back up to you. He uses the back of his hand to wipe some of your cum off his face, but the tangy smell still sticks against his facial hair.

Comes in real close when he goes in to kiss you, “Taste real fuckin good, stay down there for hours.”

And he ain’t lying, cause you taste yourself then. Sweet with a slight bitter undertone, not too much just there. Mixed with his own saliva.

Lingering on him, part of you feels achieved that when he leaves after tonight, he’ll still taste you on his tongue. Still smell like you on his beard.

“I want it,” you mutter against his lips, “want you.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, “mhm. Please.”

He’s already stripping down his suspenders, taking off the buttons of his shirt at lightning speed, hardly taking a second to even relax. Doesn’t need to be told twice what to do, no with you begging like that. Hell, he doesn’t even leave the bed until his pants and shoes become a problem, forcing him onto the floor.

He strips down all the way to just his boxers, clothes thrown off to the side in random parts of the room, and eventual tripping hazards. You don’t even get time to strip your own nightgown off before he’s doing it for you, practically ripping it off of you before throwing it aside.

He whistles low upon seeing your naked frame, shakes his head slowly, “look at you. Girls would kill em selves just to have half of what you got.”

Your cheeks warm, a smile so sweet and shy it forces a smile of his own.

“Gonna just devour you. Show my love in ways no one else can. Mine from now on.” And how he says it.. cooed and promised, like worship. A prayer.

Sacred.

He grips your hips, forcing you onto the edge of the bed and your legs open, where he gives himself room to stand between.

His hand reaches for one of your own, which you happily give him, and let him guide it towards his lips. He gives a soft peck to your flesh, eyes stuck on your own as he does so. But he doesn’t let it go, instead rubbing the prickly hair of his beard against the back of your hand, as if he’s trying to get you to pet him.

“Scratchy.” You mutter, which pulls a soft snort from him.

“Tends to be..” he smooths a hand across the inside of your thigh, “didn’t rub too much here?”

You shake your head and he accepts it with a soft ‘kay’ before planting another kiss on your hand before he trails it down. Down across his chest, his stomach and right over to the extremely prominent bulge.

“See that? That’s what you be doing to me.. all those nights, all that beggin? That’s what you did.”

He plants your hand firm against him, makes you really feel him. The ache of him, how tight the fabric is against him. You take a shaky breath.

“Why don’t you go ahead, pull it out.” He cocks his head down towards your hand, gives a small nod when you peer up at him unsure.

“Go head’,” he nods again.

With a shaky hand you pull down his boxers, his cock immediately springing out. And it’s..

“That’s bigger than two fuckin fingers, Remmick.”

He looks down, “Well.. it ain’t supposed to be that small-“

“That’s a good seven inches. I ain't fitting that.” Actually, it looks slightly bigger.

It’s thick, and long. Bright pink tip that you know for certain aches, leaking small rolls of pearl white precum and some prominent veins that you’re certain you will feel. It’s gotta be four (of your fingers) thick.

“Don’t let it imitate you. You’ll take it fine, here,” he smacks it against your open palm, “feel it. Get familiar, introduce yerself.”

He wraps your hand around his dick, looks down and drops his head a bit low just to spit directly where your hand connects to him.

“Jerk me off a bit,” he instructs. You look back down, unsure of how to go about it but you smack his hand away when he tries to help. He places both hands up in surrender before they go back to your hips.

Both of your heads are dropped down, basking in the sight of your hand slowly stroking him, the mushroom head disappears and reappears between your spit slick palm.

Remmick continues watching, soft groans and the occasional whimper leaving him with each stroke, feet shifting against the floor as he moves closer.

“Shit..” he breathes out, mouth hanging open as you give a tiny squeeze, “do that again.”

You give another soft squeeze, coupled with a flick of your wrist down, and that pulls a low moan out of him. Your eyes shoot up to take in his expression, the way his face contorts to one of pleasure, how he softly bites his bottom lip showing off his fangs.

Now you get why he stares at you so often. You think this is what he feels, this curiosity and need to see more. Know more. With each moan coaxed out of him, you jot it down.. do whatever it was that made him sound so pretty the first time again a few more times until his hips are rolling against you, uneven jerks into your palm. He says your name so softly, so nice. It sounds so pleasant coming from him.. like your name was crafted by your mother merely for this moment, only for him to utter. Her way of granting you the experience of being wanted and kept simply from the soft call of your name from the tongue of a supposed devil.

You think you want him as your own too.

“You’re really somethin.. ya know that?” You whisper, cutting through the quiet groans and moans.

He doesn’t say anything. Just looks up into your gaze and sees it. The way you mean it, the way your eyes flicker between his red ones, checking to see if he heard. If he knows.

You speak up again, still whispered, as if you spoke any louder it would ruin the intimacy of the moment.

“Thank you for doing this to me. Being soft.”

That’s all it really takes for him to pull himself out of your palm and tap against your entrance. Neither of you look down to what he’s doing, eyes focused on each other, afraid to break your gaze for different reasons— that if you do, everything will fall apart.

He thinks you might leave. You think he might become mean.

Before he enters, your hand shoots out towards him, to the one resting against your hip still, “hold my hand.”

You don’t need to tell him twice.

He grips your hand hard, holding it tight when he first pushes the tip in. You give a small gasp, brows furrowing tight, confused. Unsure of what to make of the sensation. Nothing yet.

He waits a moment before further pushing in, stopping when you place a hand on his chest, “wait- just.. wait..”

You take a deep breath, needing a minute. It’s uncomfortable, and honestly hurts like a bitch. Even with you wet, you can still feel the stretch of him, the way he forces you apart on his dick. It pinches, and you silently curse your sisters for downplaying how rough it is at first.

He tilts his head, “you alright?”

You give a small nod, rushed. Giving a long exhale, “yeah just.. yeah. Go on.”

He continues all the way to the midway point before deciding himself that it’s good enough. Any more and it’ll be excessive, for now.

“Here. I’ll go slow. Tell me when yer ready.”

It’s silent for a bit, just the soft shaky inhales and exhales of your breathing, coupled by his own steady ones. He doesn’t groan, it’s much softer than that, but he does make small noises here and there. Waits for you to adjust despite the fact he wants to ram it fully in, has to cockwarm himself for a good minute and that doesn’t help much.

He practically whimpers when you finally nod, pulling out so the tip is only inside before sliding back in half way. Still, the discomfort is there, still feels like a lot to take in. You give more pained groans than anything, mixed with his own shallow breathing, but you wave him off every time he looks towards you. Silently asks you with furrowed brows if you want him to stop, but you push through it. shake your head no.

It’s until his pace grows more steady, a little faster that you feel that brush off pleasure, a small gasp leaving you. He doesn’t slow, but he raises his brows, asking again.

You shake your head, “faster,” and he does just that.

He drops your hand to wrap your legs around his hips, keeps you prompted up as his thrusts grow more frantic. That bitter tinge of stinging has finally left, overcome by the overwhelming pleasure of being filled again and again, each ridge of him slipping it perfectly.

He takes note of how he doesn’t even need to stop at the midway point anymore, feels how your walls flutter and clench around him, sucking him in further. He complies, bottoming out.

With doing so, a moan leaves you, hand again smacking at his to grab yours. Your fingers interlock, held tightly together as your body moves in time with his thrusts. The bed creaks and groans, the headboard moving against the wall giving a steady beat.

“Fucking hell.. knew this would be good, knew you would be good.” He moans out, “fit perfectly in this pussy..Like it knows me already.” He smacks your thigh again with his free hand, gives a lazy smile.

“Uh.. well given how-“ your cut off by a moan, head thrown back as you close your eyes as a means to concentrate, “- much I imagined this, yeah, probably does know you.”

That catches him off guard, momentarily falters his thrusts into slowing down, but after you give a sharp whine while gasping “don’t stop!” he gets right back to it. Goes harder, puts a leg up until the bed, hitting so deep it makes you claw at his chest.

“You imagined this?”

You don’t seem to register his words, nor the fact that he’s speaking to you, so he has to squeeze your hand a few times to get your attention.

“Hm?”

“You imagined this?” He doesn’t sound stunned, not really. Just curious, the shock washed away.

You give a lazy nod, “uh huh.. you not the- fuck- not the only one waitin-“ you moan again, jerking your hips up to meet his own.

Remmick doubles down, placing a hand against where he bulges in your stomach. A long string of curses leave you, nails digging into the skin of his hand and clawing down his chest.

The headboard is no longer quietly running its rhythm, instead banging against the wall so roughly you're certain it’ll leave indents on the wood. Not that you care when you can feel Remmick’s dick seven inches deep, hitting spots so sensitive it makes you see stars. The sound of skin slapping and moans followed by male groans is loud, takes up the whole room. Echoes across the half of your small home. You pray no one is takin a walk at night.

You keep staring at him, occasionally having to look away given how good it feels, your toes curled tight and back arching.. but the sight of him is heavenly. It helps that he’s very expressive, his face pulled into a pained look, brows furrowed and fangs fully out, biting so hard into his bottom lip traces of blood can be found in the indents. Coupled with his whole body shuddering, and his hair a complete mess. Just makes you more needy.

The chain dangles above you just how you imagined it would, the light reflecting on it, a beacon. You watch is swing back and forth, hypnotized by at.

At some point, when you roll your hips just right, and clench down hard enough his eyes roll back. You don’t really think he’s all there anymore, that if you were to ask what state you were in he would say some fucking random one. Hell.. you ask what his name is and he wouldn’t know it.

His eyes are glazed over, incoherent mumbles leaving him.. and drool. So much of it. It hangs off his chin and slowly drips down to your chest, breasts now wet from the over extensive amount of saliva coming from him.

Not that you're any better. You’re on cloud nine, head back against the bed, occasionally jerking your hips into his but really you don’t do anything. Just lay there and take it, eyes glazed over just like his and mouth unable to close given how many moans are ripped out your throat.

The slick between your legs is wet, leaving a wet spot on the bed that you will need to clean later. It also coats his cock, leaves a white ring of shared cum on the base that catches the light of the oil lamp.

He says it before you get to, “m’ gonna’ cum.. h-holy fuck I’m gonna-“ he shudders again. Like he’s cold.

You nod, “me too.. just..”

You trail off, unable to think for yourself let alone the both of you.

He looks down to where you two meet, moans when he sees how easily he’s slipping in. How well he fits.

“Want me to cum in or out?”

You don’t answer, head rolled back. He nods, “I’ll cum in.”

And he does. His whole body shakes, having to hang his head down as his hips jerk, the grip on your hand tightening so hard it hurts. Makes you wince, but he doesn’t notice. He has to let go of your hip and grip the bed sheets, gripping them just as violently.

You don’t get to watch him slip over the edge long because his own release triggers your, forces your mouth wide into a silent moan. Your thighs shake, and your unoccupied hand moves to his back where you grip his flesh hard, drawing blood. You feel like the gates of heaven have opened and graced you with the sight of life. Of air, of love.

Pleasure so intense you feel yourself give off a wrecked sob, something that rips through your throat and out into the room. You keep repeating Remmick’s name, unable to think of anything else or anyone else. No one else is there to thank. So you thank him as well.

Grab him by the jaw and force him to kiss you, whispering thank you’s against him, all of which he swallows down.

Neither of you say anything, too caught up in the moment. You stop kissing his lips and kiss everywhere else on his face; his cheeks, chin, nose, forehead. Anywhere.

And he lets you. Lets you softly coax him back down, to this moment. To you.

Lets you softly caress him and hold his hand, like it’s his first time too. Mind as well be, given how long it’s been since he’s had this. This intimacy.

This weird love neither of you can quite name, but lingers. Lingers like sweat, sex and hormones. Doesn’t suffocate but coddles you both, forces you two to take deep inhales of each other.

To run your fingers over flesh, dead and alive, and just lay with it.

Sink it in, and don’t spit it out. Like you did. Like he did.

You ain’t leavin, and he ain’t getting mean any time soon.

So, he stays the rest of the night.

[fresidoll]

★ DON'T FORGET TO KISS ME OR ELSE YOU'LL HAVE TO MISS ME. tsukishima kei

.ᐟ Content summary: Boyfriend Tsukishima headcanons part 2

.ᐟ Includes: Tsukishima x fem!reader

.ᐟ Word count: 1.75 k

.ᐟ Content warnings: none, just fluff, sfw, kinda realistic?)

.ᐟ A/N: Since the first Tsukishima bf hc were so well received, i wrote a second part as a thank you for all the support on the first work <333. The title of this it's lyrics of this song by beabadoobee.

.ᐟ ☆ Part 1 ☆

☆ He gets very offended if you don’t want to share a spoon or straw with him. He actually finds it disgusting to share any cuttery, straw or glass with somebody else because well, ew, only god knows where their mouths have been and he’s not taking any chances. But with you, it’s a whole different story. If you even dare to wipe the rim of his glass before drinking from it, he looks at you so offended and literally gives you a narrowed eyed look like daring you to keep wiping. He takes this as you non verbally saying you find him disgusting, just a little dramatic, right? But of course it’s nothing serious and he knows you both are joking. After the aforementioned occurrence, he would act very much offended until you give him some kisses to show him you are not disgusted by him and of course, he always gives in.

☆ Asking for affection isn’t something he does, but when he wants you to hug him or kiss him he starts to play with your hair or gets really close to you. If you are oblivious to his attempts to convey his affectious needs, he just sulks for like 5 minutes before asking something dramatic like “why are you being so cold with me today?”,while looking at you like this. He does initiate affection with you often but he just likes to be dramatic because he knows you play along in his little game and after his dramatic complaint, you give him all the affection he craves.

☆ His phone has a different notification sound for you. You are the only person on his phone who has a distinctive ringtone and notification sound, it sounds like something normal but considering how Tsukishima doesn’t look like he cares for those little details, it took his family and friends out of guard when they figured it all out. The call ringtone he chose for you it’s the Nana theme song or some sound similar to that one because for him you sound exactly like that, and for the notification sound it’s something that sounds like the sparkles in the movies, something cute and whimsical like that. It’s a little cheesy but this is peak Tsukishima being a discrete loverboy for you.

☆ Gaming together it's a must. So any game works for him and most of the time lets you choose what you want to play but i feel he 100% loves to play cozy multiplayer games with you, like Minecraft or Stardew Valley, these two are his favorite. In Minecraft you are mostly building stuff and having a competition about it, and you always win because he has 0 creativity sense and what he builts always looks plain and a little wrong placed. Now, Stardew Valley was a game he found silly and a waste of time because it looked boring, but he actually got hooked on it pretty quick after he tried it for the first time. As I mentioned before, he sucks at decorating so you take care of your little farm so everything looks pretty while he goes in search for all the items you need, you forage, make artisan goods and fish while he collects wood, rocks and goes into the mines to fight the monsters there because it’s fun for him and he always gifts you your favorite crystal at the end of the day <3

☆ It may be a little silly but you have a shared tamagotchi that it’s like your child. The idea of this was surprisingly his. It happened because he got the tamagotchi as a plus gift after his mom bought something in a random store so his mom let him keep it even though he didn’t want the damn thing, he thought of throwing it away but thought that you might like it so he gifted it to you. After that, you were constantly taking care of the little virtual mascot to a point that got Tsukishima wondering about all the effort you put in taking care of a bunch of pixels and how you got stressed sometimes you got when you were busy and couldn’t attend the necessities of the virtual thing, so being the sweet boyfriend he is, he offered to take the tamagotchi and take care of it even if he didn’t saw the appeal in taking care of it. Soon he came to find that even if the whole thing of taking care of some virtual pet was a little dumb, it was funny (in a good way) to think of you basically co-parenting that dumb virtual pet that he grew to like. Then one day he said you should share the tamagotchi because it was already like your child, when you agreed, he took his role as a father very seriously and actually took good care of your virtual child.

☆ You know how in some couples it happens that there’s a person that it’s really picky with food and the other person eats basically everything that’s edible, yeah well, in your relationship Tsukishima it’s the picky eater. It may be that you are also a very picky eater but he takes that to a whole new level. Yes, he doesn’t like green peppers, he can’t stand any onion except spring onion and yes, he doesn't eat chicken if it’s not nuggets or chicken breast because he’s disgusted of the cartilages and chewy things, that’s all very reasonable and all but he sometimes he has very specific and a little odd pickiness habits. There was this time when you had started dating in which you were having a little date in a cafe and of course you both ordered some cake, he ordered a strawberry shortcake and started to take the strawberries off the piece cake… When you asked the reason for this, you expected that maybe he was saving them for the end but no, his answer was calm and nonchalant: “I don’t like strawberries.” You were dumbfounded, he just shrugged and continued his task before explaining he liked the taste the strawberries left lingering in the cream of the cake but he hated strawberries and only liked that almost unnoticeable flavor they gave to the strawberry shortcake…  Dating him after that meant to deal with his very unusual picky eater preferences, but well, you learned to love his suspiciously neurodivergent habits. For the record, if you are the kind of person that eats pretty much everything, he’s gonna be placing on your plate everything he picks off out of his food <3 (as i was editing, this tiktok popped up in my feed and this is basically Tsukishima i'm afraid lol)

☆ His family loves you a lot. His mom loved you even before personally meeting you because of how much Tsukishima talked about you to her, a mother knows, and she knew you were good for him because she could see how Tsukishima seemed more cheerful and full of life after he started dating you and that gained you her approval. Now, his mom always invites you constantly to lunch or dinner at their place, invites you to family outings they have and you regularly receive some food or baked goods from her. Now Akiteru, Tsukishima’s brother, he absolutely likes you and it’s happy about your relationship, but since he and Tsukishima are still working in building their brotherly relationship up, he keeps his distance a little bit but he’s always nice to you and stubbly let’s you know how glad he is you are taking care of his little brother.

☆ His love language is acts of service and physical touch. So, he isn’t good with words and love it’s a very complex kind of feeling, expressing it it’s hard or easy depending on the person and Tsukishima in this case, couldn’t bring himself to say all he feels for you out loud, he just can’t, so instead of just keep quiet and no do anything about it, he found another way of letting you know how much he loves you; acts of service and physical touch. He always carries your bag for you, even your handbag if you use one, he always pays for everything and doesn’t accept your money when you want to pay him back, walks in the side of the sidewalk, always gets you your favorite snacks and food, fixes your hair when the wind ruins it, tells you when your makeup it’s smudged and sometimes he even tries to fix it, pays attention to everything you say, opens the doors for you, places his hand on your head or covers the table corners when you bend down so you won’t hurt yourself and so on. Now physical touch it’s a tiny bit more important to him because he is very vulnerable when he’s affectionate towards you, he’s shy about it but tries his best to be nonchalant and casual when he holds your hand, wraps his arm around your shoulders as you walk, when he hugs you by the waist, when he nudges your noses together, when he kisses your cheek or your forehead, when he kisses your lips as his hands cradle your face… In all of those acts of service and touches, he completely pours out his heart and hopes you know how much you mean to him.

☆ Like it’s stated in the previous point, kisses are a very meaningful thing to him, whether the kisses are pecks, small kisses, long kisses, makeout sessions and any of that, kisses are not something Tsukishima takes lightly. The first time you kissed he almost passed out from the rush of emotions, the memory of how it felt and how you tasted it’s engraved deep in his brain and the more you kissed with the pass of time, his fondness for kissing you grew and grew more everytime your lips met. His kisses depend on the place you are, it can be a peck if there’s too much people around or it can be a long lasting kiss if you’re alone, whatever it is but he always has to kiss you goodbye, that became almost a non-spoken rule, he has to kiss you whether it be on the lips or your cheek or your forehead but he has to or he’ll be feeling so uncomfortable about it, like an itch that he has to scratch to kiss you as soon as you see each other again. If he forgets to kiss you, he’ll be missing you until his lips met with yours once again <3

[bixbythemartian]

50+ Ways to Annoy the Death Witch

Chapter 1: Call her a Necromancer

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I was on the porch sketching when Callahan showed up.

Callahan works for the Council and investigates witchy doings. Mostly in the vein of ‘please lets keep the normies from trying to murder us all’, though that concern has gone down a TON in the internet era.

You’d think it would be the opposite, right? Everybody has a camera, all the time. Surely they’d catch actual magic!

Yeah. They do, all the fuckin time, and they call it something else. Or they do call it magic, and they’re called crazy. You've seen 'em. The internet is full of people who think giants or aliens built the pyramids, people who claim they see shadow people, or think their neighbor controls the cows, they just don't stand out.

Anyway, work has dried up for Callahan and people like him, is my point. It's a much slower gig than it was back in the day.

Is he a witch cop? Ehhhh... he’s the closest we come. Mostly he’s just trying to keep us out of the news, like I said. If one of us was really out of line he’d take it to the council and let them handle it (usually by binding the witch’s magic), but that hasn’t happened in a couple of decades.

He still comes and crawls up my ass every time some teenager finds an old grimoire and brings back the family pet, or whatever.

I stood up as his truck came down the drive. That was my last big project, taking the gravel out and putting pavers in for the driveway. It was expensive as hell, but it means that I can just swap a paver out if one cracks, rather than having to have to deal with gravel all the time.

I do kind of miss the noise of the gravel, though.

That payday was from his last visit, come to think- usually he comes out because he's stumped, and after he's done accusing me of atrocities and grave robbing, he hires me to help him figure out who actually did it.

Pretty often it's some kid with too much magic and not enough sense trying to bring back someone they love. It's always sad, but that's easy to handle. By the time we get involved, they're usually pretty anxious for a solution, because it has gotten out of control.

He parked next to my pickup and got out, strolling over like he had all god damned day. He’s probably in his late 30s, dark hair and eyes. He lives up in the city, these days, but his grandparents went to high school with mine, in a town that gets smaller every year, and are buried in the same damned graveyard.

I first met him in that very graveyard.

“Hey there, Miss Tabitha,” he said. “How’s my favorite necromancer?”

I sighed. He annoys me so much.

“I know, I know, you don’t like being called that.”

“I’m not a necromancer,” I said, for probably the thousandth time.

“Sure, you’re a different kind of death magic witch. Whatever.”

“A necromancer is someone who uses magic to control corpses, and can be any type of witch. I’m a death witch, my power source is the death of any and all organic matter. Some witches get their power from the earth or the stars or weather, mine happens to come from a different natural force.” I don’t know where he gets his from. For a while I suspected it was hair gel, but he switched to wearing ballcaps.

I think he’s balding.

“And you use it to keep your neighbor’s chickens from getting sick and that’s it, huh?”

“I buy eggs off her,” I said. “Do you want something, or do you just get itchy if you haven’t accused me of something unholy?”

He clicked his tongue. “Well, now, there’s a cemetery out in Macomb that’s had some bodies dug up.”

“Macomb,” I said. I knew vaguely where it was- south of highway nine, east of where I lived, but pretty easy driving distance. I’d have to look at a map to be sure, but definitely a place I could drive out and back from in a day and still have plenty of time to get up to trouble. “You actually found a local crime to accuse me of, you’re getting a bit better at your job.” He rolled his eyes.

“What’s going on in Macomb?”

“Well, like I said, some bodies went missing. The cops say it’s funny, it’s almost like they dug themselves out."

"Well, they shouldn't be doin that," I said.

"Right? Coffins are there, just the bodies are gone. I know you’re gonna say it wasn’t you, but it wasn’t you, was it? That’s close enough that you probably draw power from that cemetery. Even if it was an accident?”

“There’s closer cemeteries. Norman has at least two that I know of.”

“Well, that’s fair,” he said. “I gotta ask. Necromancy shit in our neck of the woods? I gotta ask, Tabby.”

“Don’t call me that,” I said.

“Was it you?” he insisted.

“No, it wasn’t me,” I said.

“Alright, that’s all I needed to ask.” Once he'd asked and I'd answered, that was it, he didn't pester me about it again.

“Are you trying to get my help, or do you want to wander around with your thumb up your butt for a few days first?”

“Come on, Tabitha. We’ll pay you the usual rates,” he said.

I sighed at him, just so he knew I was annoyed. “Let me put some pants on and run a brush through my hair, and then I need to see the graves.”

“We’re taking my pickup,” he said. “So, if you’ve got a step stool-”

“Ha ha,” I said. “Wait here.” I took my sketchbook inside, and dropped it on the table by the door, went to find a brush and change into jeans. Grabbed my kit- it’s just got standard odds and ends that one might need when casting on the go, some prepared spells, all stuffed in an ancient maroon Jansport.

I’m probably going to have to get a new bag soon, I’ve had this one since 8th grade, and it’s really starting to wear out.

We head out.

He’s got a 70s Ford pickup he’s been restoring, to sell. Well, he’s been ‘restoring’ it about as long as I’ve been cleaning the house out so I can sell it, maybe longer, and I've been living in the house near a decade, so. Take that as you will.

It’s in decent shape on the inside, and the a/c works, and it’s matte primer gray on the outside, has been for years now.

The road out where I live is dirt, and then it goes to gravel, before you get on something paved.

He looked up in the rearview mirror. “You know, I just figured it was someone else who lived out this way when I came out, but I do believe I’m being followed.”

I looked in the sideview mirror. There was someone behind us, but it was hard to see them through all the dust the truck was kicking up.

Magic came rushing at the mirror, and snapped it off.

“Rude,” I said.

“Did they just snap off my mirror?”

I started cranking the window down. “Turn left if you have to turn, warn me if there’s a right curve,” I said, unbuckling my belt, and wrapping it around my leg. “But try to go straight as you can, that’ll help me aim.”

“It’ll help them aim, too.”

“Don’t worry about them.” Magic whined as it pinged off the vehicle. “You really should shield the pickup.”

“I’m just gonna sell it.”

I pulled myself out of the seat to sit on the window, one hand gripping the ‘oh shit’ handle, my legs clenching the door.

Late model SUV, something dark. I could see why he recognized it right away- it was a sort of dark red and had an engine snorkel. Also some extra lights on front- someone goes out in this truck. Mudding, looks like.

They had someone standing up through the sun/moon roof firing spells at us. He was using something that looks like a gun. That’s pretty common, these days, wands resembling guns.

Wands are a type of prepared spell, they hold charges and you fire off the charges until you’re out. Most people mostly use prepared spells.

Most people just can’t hold that much magic inside their bodies- there’s an upper limit- and so the best way to store the magic they gather from the wind or the stars or the grass or whatever their thing is to make spells and put the magic there. Even the more powerful witches, witches like me with a larger capacity for magic, they tend to store a lot in prepared spells.

Most sources trickle it in. So if you blow your magical load, as it were, you have to wait for it to come back. Recharge under a starlit sky where the light pollution is low. Or lay in the tickling grass.

There’s some exceptions. Sun witches- rare- basically can refuel constantly. Oh, it’s night? Oh, it’s cloudy? The heat in the ground beneath your feet comes from the sun. The sun is a constant, even when it’s not out. Sea witches, too- they have to be in range of the coast, but within that range, powerful. There’s also rumor of one lady up in the midwest who gathers her power specifically from the Great Lakes, and she’s supposed to be one of the most powerful witches in the world.

You know what's also around all the time? Dead shit.

If it is now dead and was ever alive, even briefly, it belongs to me.

Like his wand, a bit of dead wood. I sucked the power out of his wand, and whipped it out of his hand. “Knock it the fuck off!” I shout. I could barely see him, but he looked young.

He swore, shaking his hand. “Ram them!”

The driver I could see even less of, but I could see him shaking his head.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I said.

It takes a deep spike of power- the older and longer dead something is, the more briefly it was alive, the harder it is to fuck with.

Gasoline, for example, is derived from something that died at least 66 million years ago, so it’s kind of a big one.

The driver managed not to roll the car off the road as the car engine suddenly stopped working, and Callahan came to a stop.

I figured they'd be alright, they go out mudding, they're used to shit going wrong.

“The hell did you do? It took a ton of power. My nose hairs are burning.”

“Turned their gas into mesozoic algae for long enough to shut their car off,” I said.

"What?"

"Gas is made from crude oil. Crude oil is dead shit. Specifically, algae and plankton from the mesozoic."

"Huh. Your nose is bleeding," he said.

I wiped at my nose, untangled myself from the seatbelt, and managed to dismount from the window and land on both feet, which is about as much as I could ask for.

My right eye was throbbing- I’d drained myself to the last drop for that.

Still, there was a dead skunk on the road, and dead tree limbs, and I breathed magic in. The ache receded, but probably wouldn’t go away until I'd slept.

I walked up to their SUV, the driver keeping both hands on the wheel, like I was a cop. “Hey,” I said. “What the fuck?” I put my hand on the car, and converted all the ancient ocean sludge back into gas. That was easier, but it still made my eye throb.

The wand wielder jumped out of the SUV and got up in my face, tried to shove me against the car, but Callahan grabbed him and pulled him back.

“My grandparents crawled out of their grave, and everybody knows they got a pet necromancer around here. I want them back.”

Now, I’m not actually that easy to intimidate, and he was just a snot-nosed kid who’s barely old enough to drink, if that. But he was also angry to cover up being scared.

“Well, we’re on our way to find out what’s happened. Having to stop for your bullshit isn’t helpful," Callahan said.

“Everybody knows it was you.”

“Sweetheart, if I was raising the dead, why would I start with your kin? I don’t know you, I don't know your grandparents."

He looked at the driver. He had bleached his hair and it was a sort of peachy pink that could have been intentional or it could have been to light a pink over too orange a bleach. The driver had blue-black hair that was definitely box dye. They both looked indecisive.

"It’s probably someone who know your grandparents. It’s like a murder- it’s almost always someone who knows the victim,” I said. He's just a grieving kid, they both are.

“But you’re the only necromancer in the state, maybe the country,” he said. His heart wasn't really in it, though. He was just upset.

“I’m not a necromancer,” I said. “I am a death witch. It’s not the same thing. They died recently?”

He nodded. “We spent a lot of time living with em, Mom was in and out of rehab, and Dad… I don’t know. He wasn’t around until we were older.”

“You get your magic from this side, or your Daddy’s side?”

“They had magic, but they say I got mine from Dad, and he gets his from Mom.” He jerked his head at his brother in the driver's seat.

“Okay. Why don’t you get out in front, we’ll head on out to the gas station, because I need a fuckin energy drink, and then we can go take a look. Sometimes I can see stuff nobody else can, and I have a good nose for corpses.”

“You really think you can find them?”

"I don't know for sure about finding their bodies, but I'm positive we'll get to the bottom of this," I said.

He nodded and, almost sheepish, headed back to the SUV.

“Just try and start her again,” I told the driver. “I’ll top you off at the Valero station, that trick probably pulled some out of your tank.”

The car started, and they pulled around us and sped off.

“You think they’ll be at the gas station?” Callahan asked.

“Mmm. Fifty fifty, but they’ll be at the cemetery, which is what I really care about. C’mon, I want a Monster.”

“You keep drinking that crap, your heart’ll stop.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, climbing into the truck. “Let’s go.”

Next> Latest>>

If you read this and enjoyed it, maybe you want to help out and contribute to my ko-fi? I'm disabled and that's the best way for me to earn a living right now! Check out my masterpost for other fiction.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “YOUR LIKE A PIECE OF ART!” ── .✦ ( batboys with a s/o who has a lot of tattoos. )

a/n: this was a request by anon actually (here) anyways omg a lot of you guys are sending nationality requests like Irish!reader, Moroccan!reader, Canadian!reader and etc omgg anyways yesterday I took a small break and now I’m back!!! So yeahh tags: (batboys x a s/o who has a lot of tattoos)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Absolutely adores your tattoos. He finds them mesmerizing and often asks about the stories behind them.

"Wait, this one—what does it mean? And this one? You gotta explain it all to me!" He’s so genuinely interested it’s adorable.

Loves tracing his fingers over them absentmindedly. It’s his favorite way to relax, especially after a long patrol.

If you’re open to it, he’d love to get matching tattoos with you. Something small and meaningful, like a star or an acrobat silhouette.

He’s always hyping you up. “God, you look so cool! How did I even land you?”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Finds your tattoos ridiculously attractive. You’re like a walking piece of art, and he can’t stop staring.

“Another one? Damn, I’m gonna run out of compliments if you keep adding masterpieces to your body.”

Appreciates the rebellious vibe that tattoos give, but loves that yours are deeply personal too.

If you designed any of them yourself, he’s in awe. “Wait—you drew this? Babe, you’re a genius.”

He won’t admit it, but he’s been low-key considering getting a tattoo himself—something to match or complement yours.

Loves running his hand over them, especially while you're cuddling. He’d act cool about it, but he’s secretly obsessed.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

At first, he might be a little shy about it—he’s not used to tattoos or the culture surrounding them.

"So… do they hurt? Like, a lot? Or just a bit?" He’s curious but hesitant to admit he’s interested.

After you explain the meanings and the artistry behind them, he gains a deep respect for your tattoos.

He’d geek out over the symbolism if any of them are literary or historical references.

Secretly thinks you’re the coolest person ever. Your tattoos add a boldness and confidence that he’s drawn to.

If you ever wanted to get another one, Tim would offer to help you research the best tattoo artists.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

He’s intrigued but tries to act indifferent. “Tattoos are superficial… but I suppose these are aesthetically pleasing.”

Secretly, he’s fascinated. He’ll examine your tattoos closely and ask about their meanings when he thinks you’re not paying too much attention.

If any of your tattoos are animals or nature-related, he’s deeply impressed. “A bunny? You’ve chosen well.”

Will jokingly criticize any tattoo he doesn’t like, but you know he’s not serious. He secretly admires all of them.

If you tell him you’re getting another one, he might suggest an animal that resonates with your personality. "Perhaps a panther would suit you."

Low-key, he’d be jealous if anyone else commented on how cool your tattoos are. He doesn’t like sharing your attention.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

At first, he’d be a bit taken aback—it’s not something he’s used to, and he’s very traditional.

But once he understands that your tattoos have personal meaning, he respects your choices completely.

“You’re a work of art. Literally and figuratively.” He means it sincerely, even if it’s cheesy.

He might not be entirely comfortable showing off your tattoos in formal settings (Wayne galas and such), but he would never ask you to hide them. Instead, he would encourage you to flaunt them confidently.

Secretly, he’s fascinated by the process and would love to watch you get a tattoo one day, just to understand it better.

If anyone makes a rude comment about your tattoos, Bruce would shut them down instantly with his trademark icy glare.

RANDOM CONVOS WITH THEM THAT WOULD HAPPEN ── .✦

with dick

Dick: “So, if I get your name tattooed, does that mean I own your heart forever?”

You: “Only if it’s spelled right.”

With jason

Jason: “If you ever get a tattoo of my name, make it small. I don’t want to be embarrassed when you dump me.”

You: “you think I’ll dump you randomly?”

jason: “who wouldn’t, I’m a high maintenance guy.”

With tim

Tim: He accidentally zones out during a conversation because he’s staring at a detailed tattoo and trying to figure out the design.

With damian

Damian: “Tt, if I were to get a tattoo, it would be far more impressive than yours.” You: “Damian, I literally have a dragon sleeve.”

With bruce

Bruce: “Do all of these mean something? Or did you just think they looked… fashionable?”

You: “Some are meaningful, but yeah, Bruce. Some just look cool

[zevrra]

this drabble is inspired by this ask!! (viktor vers. coming soon!)

[mdní, 18(+), college au, ns//fw, jayce x gn!reader, suggestive penëträtion]

studying with jayce was usually very productive. the two of you worked very well together, especially when it came to solving problems when the other couldn’t figure it out. you two were so in tune sometimes so when both of you got stuck on an equation, neither of you could solve, you decided to entertain yourselves with something far more…physical.

which is how you ended up on your hands and knees, face dangerously close to being squished into the bed as jayce fucks you from behind. one of his hands has a tight grip on your hip for stability as he dives rapidly into you. he places kisses along your spine in time with his well placed thrusts. “feel so good.” he’d whisper between each kiss that he places; chuckling at how you groan and tighten around him at his words.

he straightens up then, his hips faltering for a single moment; and you just assume he’s repositioning himself…that is until you feel something scratch lightly across your back. your brows furrow, maybe you just imagined it, but no there it is again…and it continues as jayce slowly stops moving.

no way. was he doing what you thought he was doing? no…not when…really?

“jayce talis are you solving that damn equation on my back right now?”

jayce completely comes to a stop just as the feathering on your back also stops. you hear jayce slightly laugh, nervously, while his grip loosens against your hip. “i’m sorry! i just solved it in my head suddenly and, and i had to write it down before i forgot it!” he stammers, apologizing for his moments distraction, before tossing the pen off the bed in an attempt to get rid of the evidence.

you sigh, trying your hardest not to burst out laughing. he was so stupid and smart all at the same time and god you loved and hated him for it. but laughing would be saved for after you got to finish this. “jayce…take a picture, quickly, and then please forget about everything else that doesn’t involve you fucking me.” you hum in response. and you didn’t even need to turn around to know that jayce’s face was most likely bright red at being caught red handed. the thought makes you shake your head as he quickly scrambles for a picture before returning back to the moment you two were sharing.

“sorry…” jayce apologizes, sounding like a kicked puppy. he places an apologetic kiss against your shoulder before trailing them back down to your spine.

you finally laugh, softly, at his words. of course the brilliant man that jayce was; would think about equations while his dick was hard. so ridiculous but it made you enjoy this even more somehow. “don’t worry. you’re too cute to be mad at anyway. just move those hips again, pretty boy.”

and like a good boy, jayce does as he is told. saving the problem solving for later.

[beloveds-embrace]

Can we get that dark version of graves 💀. Sorry no hate to him but I like how this men operates lowkey like mafia in the dukedom au. Also is Konig still her personal guard in the regular au?

In the regular au, no, I don’t have König for her in there lol fyi i wrote this while spaced out during a lecture im sorry if it sounds rushed lol 😭

Referenced post

As for Graves: god, he is so smug. So, so smug, arrogance and pride growing each second he spends with you and over you. It shows in his gait when he walks, when he begins lording over the other servants and staff, when he begins latching to you, joining you on your free time when he checks beforehand that no one else is there with you. All of this even before you tell John your request.

After you do, and after you insist you really do want Graves, he becomes almost like a blown up balloon. He wants to monopolize all your time, all your interactions, and why would you say no when he gives you the love and affection you long for?

You don’t say no; but the same can’t be said for them.

It doesn’t matter if Graves truly loves you back. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t love you and only wants to desperately hold on to his one chance of rising in society. Nothing about Graves really matters to them except how to break his connection to you.

Graves thinks that the reason the rest of the staff slowly begin to distance themselves from him, ill-mannered towards him in general, is out of jealousy due to his closeness to you. He thinks that the reason John adds more stable hands is because you want to have others help him and who he can lord over. He thinks the reason bland and spoiled food he gets is because the cook is jealous of him, as well. Who wouldn’t be, knowing it’s only him who has your affection?

He thinks everything is done for him, due to you. It makes him latch all the more to you, and you love it even if you sometimes look confused by it.

When you send him a letter, askinh to meet him privately late at night in the woods behind the duchy, it’s the first time he’s considered saying no to you. But as it is, Graves thinks you are a spoiled thing, born with a silver spoon, and he doesn’t want to spoil his standing with you. The woods behind the duchy are a bit… unconventional. He’s heard rumors of servants sometimes dying in there, a long time ago, but there was no solid evidence of it ever.

Whatever it is, he can deal with it. His confidence builds when Kyle greets him formally, a little smile on his lips compared to the previous days. The food he’s presented with is delicious and warm, and Duke Riley even gives him a nod when passing by him. He gets called into John’s office to talk about a payrise, as well.

Everything’s well. Going into the woods, therefore, shouldn’t be a problem.

It shouldn’t have been a problem.

Stumbling through the dark woods in question, cradling his bleeding leg, Graves begins to realize that he’s made a horrific misjudgment.

Why would you, of all people, want to meet here? You, soft and delicate? You, who has never known what it feels like to have a single scratch on your body?

This place isn’t meant for you. You wouldn’t even consider this place.

You didn’t send him that letter.

And Graves is realizing it just now.

He lets out another pained shout when his foot catches onto a bear trap, falling forward. Hands and knees scratched, blood pooling under him, and covered with the dark canopy of the night sky with nothing to guide him except the dim light of the stars, Graves has never felt more hopeless.

The snapping of dead twigs and leaves, loud in the suffocating silence of the woods, makes his twist his neck to see-

Beasts. Snarling, deep dark beasts, gaping maws and rows of twisted, sharp teeth. They laugh and bark, snapping at him and there is nothing he can do to struggle back because the damned trap is still holding him down.

Behind those beasts, there is a figure. The eyes that peer at him in hatred are familiar, but Graves cannot recall their owner at this moment. Tall, blond hair, at the manor ever so often-

“You should not have touched what doesn’t belong to you, Graves.”

He is not granted enough time to think about how familiar the voice is.

And so, on a dark January night, Philip Graves disappears.

“Still no sign?” You ask, twisting your handkerchief between your hands again. Your days have been hard, lately, and grow harder the longer your lover remains missing. Though you aren’t even sure if he is truly missing. If he was, then how come the rest of the servants all said that they couldn’t find any of his personal belongings?

He had seemed so happy with you… you don’t understand.

“I’m afraid not,” Simon tells you softly, coming to stand beside you. He holds a hand out for you, and despite knowing it wouldn’t be proper, you do not stop him from drawing you into a hug. “The dogs didn’t find any traces of him, either.”

Your eyes move over to the two dogs curled on their respective pillows, one napping and the other chewing on a bone. You loved them; they were all over you the second Simon had brought them to you, rolling over to get stomach rubs from you. They provided a temporary retrieve from your dark and depressing thoughts, just simply holding them making you feel better.

“They are good hunters.” Simon had told you, his knuckles gently wiping away your tears. “If he is anywhere lost nearby, they will find him.”

But now, there wasn’t a trace of him. You hated to admit it, but perhaps Philip’s leave might have been his own choice…

“Do not cry.” Simon whispers softly when he hears you sniffling, arms warm around you. You melt against him, just clinging to this comfort. “John will still search, but you still have all of us to help you get through this, sweetheart.”

Get through this, and get over Graves. The rest of the staff all agreed that he wasn’t good for you, anyways, and the dogs had their fun.

And Simon now gets to hold and comfort you, after he’s already had quality time with the rest of his beloveds.

Your tears will dry, eventually, and your heart will open up again.

[danmeidiaries]

Why I love Shassie

'Psych' is one of my comfort shows. I absolutely adore it and it is one of the fews show I have seen that I consider to be PERFECT. That being said, I still wish I could see a cut of the show where Shassie were the endgame pairing. I know why it never happened, I do like Shules well enough, but Shassie just has so much comedic and compelling potential in this show. They're a fascinating AU and What If scenario that I do sometimes wish I could have seen play out.

There wouldn't have been so much drama about the 'reveal' that Shawn isn't psychic. Jules was the only character in the show who 100% believed that Shawn was psychic. Everyone else ranged from actively helping the lie (Gus & Henry), sceptical but accepting of Shawn's methods (Vick) to flat out refusal to believe (Lassiter). If Shassie had gotten together, then I think that it would have been a fun quirk of their relationship. They both KNOW that Shawn isn't psychic, but Shawn won't tell him the truth (because it's less fun) and Lassiter wants to work it out by himself anyway. So it could have just been a "I won't tell you the truth but if you ever figure it out, I'll tell you if you're right" through-line. Plus then we wouldn't have had the awkwardness of Shawn having to maintain such a big lie in his relationship with Jules (even Abigail - his other main love interest - didn't seem to buy that he was really psychic) and the drama after Jules worked it out. (That stretch of episodes after Jules found out were some of my least favorites due to this plot point hanging over everything.)

The "Oh God, no. Why him????" realisation comedy - especially from Lassiter - when they realise they like each other. Lassiter is canonically pansexual but he's definitely 100% Spencerphobic. Lassiter would have zero qualms about liking dudes but liking Shawn is probably where he draws the line. Shawn would also probably have a similar reaction and the comedy would be GOLD.

Gus' reaction. If Shassie's reaction to liking each other would have been comedy gold, Gus' reaction to if the two started dating would have been comedy platinum. Henry also would have probably had a really funny reaction as well. To be honest, everyone would have, but Gus' reaction would have been spectacular.

It wouldn't have even really changed their dynamic. I can 100% see Shawn and Lassiter being EXACTLY the same with each other while working - because they're both competitive about case solving and bickering is their form of flirting honestly - but burning off all that at work and having an actual functioning relationship when they aren't working. It would probably confuse the hell out of everyone else but it would be a hilarious contrast to their working/home life.

The episodes where Lassiter and Shawn work together are some of the best in the show anyway and would have been great stepping stones to a Frenemies to Lovers kind of story. Seasons 3 & 4 are peak Shassie with 'Lassie Did a Bad, Bad Thing', 'The Head, The Tail, and the Whole Damn Episode', 'Gus Walks into a Bank', 'Shawn Gets the Yips' and 'Shawn Takes a Shot in the Dark' being some of my favorites in the entire show. 'Last Night Gus' in S6 is also particularly standout for Shassie content.

Did I mention that the theme song 'I Know, You Know' is basically Shawn singing to Lassiter?

I know, you know, that I'm not telling the truth, I know, you know, they just don't have any proof, Embrace the deception, learn how to bend, Your worst inhibitions tend to psych you out in the end!

Lassiter is the one who learns how to bend and embrace the deception over the course of the show (he breaks that disk in the season finale because he's fully accepted it and doesn't need to know the answer.) And he is the only character NOT in on the lie who 100% doesn't believe Shawn and doesn't just embrace and accept what he's doing.

So, in conclusion, Psych is perfect, but Shassie is that one extra nugget of gold I wish could have been unearthed within it. If you haven't seen Psych, please do. It's such a fun show and one I revisit every once in a while. The entire cast is clearly having an absolute blast making it and the mysteries are always really fun to watch play out.

[feefivefoe]

living for sahsrau, I offer crumbs that you can expand upon if you want to (no pressure)

I feel like phainon would see the creator as his escape from the cycle on amphoreus. you are the beginning after all, bro would be obsessed with you and figuring out your powers so you guys can live happily ever after. with all the other heirs obv but you’ll always have snowy at your hip

mydeiiiiii, my booooooyyy. might be the only person who treats you semi normally. kinda like welt where you can have convos with him and he just shoves his feelings for you off to the side. the only way you’ll tell he can feel anything is from how he… scowls at you??? he’s actually so entranced by you, making a mental note of everything you say. while you’re probably thinking the prince of kremnos is abt to punt you to the next star system

mr anaxa is at a bit of a crossroads, you’re a god (more like THE god) from beyond the sky. he’s intrigued by you, itching to learn what makes you tick.

not many thoughts for him because he confuses me :( love if you could expand on these and maybe talk abt aglaea and castorice too <33

Full disclosure I have not done most of the amphoreus quests yet, I just know about the major beats. I also have half the current Chrysos Heirs, so I feel alright answering this.

○○○

There is a thin line between love and hate, and Phainon is using it like a jump rope. He starts the cycle absolutely enamored with you, especially upon your identity being withheld from even them. Only Aglaea seems to know anything about you, and it has her thrown for a loop. So mysterious! You, on the other hand, can't help but feel your blood turn to ice when he's in your vicinity. His presence isn't as strong as Phantilia's was, stretched across the Lufou. But it's the same chill.

As the journey advances, each fallen comrade makes that thread tighten. If you're truly such a special individual, enough to be valued over the Coreflames themselves, shouldn't you have the power to help? Shouldn't you be doing more than just protesting as your shared friends insist you stay in Okhema? You'd let the people who give everything for this planet die before letting your precious fucKING SILKEN SKIN GET-

He wonders if the Destruction would mourn you. If fate had finally given him a gift. If not a way to end his cycle, a way to harm the one responsible for his suffering. Why else would he have been gifted the god of gods, bound to mortal flesh?

He can't imagine Nanook wouldn't mourn you. Who wouldn't? You are perfection, given physical form. The most incredible thing he has ever seen in his many, many lives. You have to die because he can not live without you. Nobody can. He needs you now more than ever, so he must destroy you.

What loyalty does he owe you, after all? The one who tried to help despite their powerlessness refused to rise above, how he did.

○○○

Mydei is much kinder, thankfully. He deems you weak and not worth much notice, at first. But while he isn't fully invested in their mutual quest, he does respect Aglaea and Tribios greatly. Their unending awe and adoration of you causes him to reconsider. As he grows to respect the Trailblazers and Dan Heng, this is further solidified. Everyone in Castum Kremnos was a warrior. But his culture appears to be the outlier in that respect. Some people have roles outside of the battlefield, and contribute there more than they ever would with a sword in their hand.

He does treat you entirely normally. As normal as somebody as blunt as him can, anyways. For the sole reason of that's what you clearly want. For somebody to see you as a person, rather than some divine entity beyond mortal understanding. Well, he isn't technically mortal anymore, is he? He can make the attempt, if nothing else.

Most of the time his expression is blank, but every now and again he just glares at you, like you've insulted his dead mother. When all you did was yawn?

Mydei is upset because he understands it now, damn it. Why those three were willing to fight the city itself if it was decided you would be taken from them. Why they go from allies to foes whenever anybody even hints at taking you near the battlefield.

He thinks he might do the same. You are rather dangerous, actually. He's glad he didn't notice before falling victim to your pull.

○○○

Anaxagoras isn't sure if you entirely contradict his opinion on the gods, or if you enforce it. Because the gods and prophecy are clearly bullshit if there's a being so far beyond them. But if that being exists, then the existence of gods and prophecies is correct?

But you also can't be all bad, because the dromas swarm you to such an extent that they'll deviate from their duties if they catch sight of you. He's even seen them abandon their feeding troughs when you approach. Asinine.

Against his better judgement, for a man that is all judgement, his opinion of you softens rather quickly. If he wants you to use his full name, you will ("What am I gonna do, tell you you're wrong about your name?"). You ask him questions about their world ("If I knew the answer, I wouldn't be asking.").

He's hardly the type to bow and scrape at your feet, assuming you'll assist them in saving their world. But you make working with that woman a bit more bearable. Even more so when he gets the opportunity to keep you by his side, rather than hers. It's rather satisfying to watch her brow twitch, clearly trying to not seem angry in front of you.

○○○

Aglaea hasn't regretted many things in her life. She'd give anything to reach the finish line she's been vying for her entire life. And yet.

She finds herself wishing she knew what you looked like. The golden threads can give her an idea. A shape. But even that is difficult, because you're everywhere. The threads exist within you. Every vein in your body is spun of pure silken gold, turning your circulatory system into the most beautiful tapestry she's ever come across.

But that isn't enough for her. She wants to know the color of your hair, your eyes. Your preferred style of dress. She wants to take in your smile and laughter with every sense available to humanity. She wonders if this is how the titan beating in her chest felt about her own lover. Did this adoration turn Romance into such a lovestruck fool?

Do not leave the holy city.

That is a desperate plea an order she gives not even considering the asset you could prove to be. But rather that she doesn't know how she would function if such a beautiful creature appeared and vanished from her life so soon.

To you, she is a staunch ally. You know how she pulls strings for the prophecy, how everybody is disposable to her if the need arises. You do not know she will do worse for you.

Balancing things with the council is necessary for the Flame Chase Journey. But if they touch you, she will smile. Sitting next to you in the private baths, knowing her dear allies have thrown them to the black tide. Okhema would be heartbreaking to lose. But you aren't even an option.

She is heartless because she loves so deeply. Remember that.

○○○

Death permeates Castorice's life, preventing her from human connection for so long. Forcing her to keep a distance from the rest of the world. Even admist demigods.

She thinks your friends might kill her, when your hand falls on her shoulder after Okhema is attacked. It's clear they adore you. They will take your loss hard.

Then you falter. You sway. You stumble. But you do not die.

And Castorice falls in love with you immediately.

You too, are surrounded by death you cannot prevent. People who treat you like glass, ready to turn and shatter those who approach you. Who you are lucky if you can stop in time.

She tries so very hard not to join them. Because life is a sacred thing. You agree. There are few people you personally want dead.

Death wants you so very badly. Of course it does. Everybody does. She can't bring herself to let it, even if it would mean being able to keep you for herself. You're so full of life. You are life itself. The foundation of everything that has happened and will happen.

And that makes her all the more happy when you choose to seek her out. When you seek her calm, content smile over the ones so desperate to please.

She too, is desperate to have you in her grasp. But she's even more desperate to have you come willingly. Happily. Because who else would willingly approach Death?

Please don't leave her alone.

[the-balloon-shed]

imma be honest I want to make a fic of this one day but for right now you just get me running wild with this headcanon

you know how there's those videos of surgeons being "inspirational" to their interns and then saying the meanest shit in the world? yeah, I think that's Iceman as an instructor at TOPGUN. 

Just the dry, rough sense of humor? The perfectly attenuated phrase in order to knock the arrogance out of some of these scrappy pilots? That's Iceman. The evidence is there in TG86! it's ICE who is saying the most bratty shit to Maverick. His criticisms are almost always valid or born of a real curiosity that's worth looking into, which I think is key, but he expresses it in the rudest and most inciting way possible. 

"Who was covering Cougar while you were showboating --"; (in response to Slider's calling Goose and Mav "famous") "I think you mean notorious"; "I don't like you 'cause you're dangerous" -- I mean Ice is right but he's also a bitch. (we don't have time to unpack ALL of what went into Ice goading Maverick seconds after meeting him with "need help figuring it out? who's the best pilot?" like my god man). 

So, some contenders for some of the commentary Ice might have for his students -- 

"Keep flying like that, I'm going to assume you're getting kickbacks from the military hospital." 

"I can only hope one day you fly for the enemy." 

"I was thrilled to hear the Navy's policy initiative for accommodating more disabilities went into action this year, however, I do think they should reconsider sending me blind pilots." 

"Are you on your wingman's life insurance or something?" 

"What did I say about making the same mistake twice?" "At least tell you I've learned something?" "No. What I said is don't." 

"Resist the urge to help me."

"I'm not looking for the best you can do. I'm looking for the best, period. So if you can't do any better, I suggest trying to emulate somebody else who can." 

"Well, you're no Artful Dodger, but artless dodging kept you alive well enough this time, I suppose." (I think it would be funny if he incidentally gave this poor pilot the callsign Dodger because of this, or A.D. for Artless Dodger)

"Did the Academy change its curriculum? Emphasize the element of surprise?" "Um... why do you ask, sir?" "Because you fly like you've never been inside a plane before." 

And I think he might say this to a colleague trying to pull rank over him that he neither respects nor cares about:

"I've neither the time, nor the crayons, to explain this to you." 

I think Mav would be so annoyed, too. "why do I have the reputation for being hard to work with when you're going around saying the meanest crap to these kids?" 

All Ice would do is laugh. "Sounds like a personal problem." 

Not to say that Ice is an asshole without restraint. Hell, the Iceman is all about restraint. He doesn't kick people when they're down. He doesn't say cutting stuff like this to people who are genuinely trying and not being a showoff. This is to knock overly arrogant kids down a few pegs, not send people into a shame self-doubting spiral, and Ice is usually pretty damn good at walking that line. 

Like, I imagine one of the students not understanding something to do with the physics portions of their classes and so he goes to Ice super nervous about getting reamed, and Ice is very patient with him. When Mav comes in and starts talking to Ice about instructor stuff, the student goes "oh, I can come back later, you know I think I'm getting it!" out of fear of wasting Ice's time and Ice would chuckle and be like "no, you clearly don't get it, and that's fine. Easier to teach you on dry land as opposed to up in the air, so let's keep working through it. Long as Mav's not about to talk to me about anything confidential --" which Mav shakes his head no "--alright, then how about you sit right there and keep working at it until you get it, and you will get it. If you've got the time, I've got the time, so let's get it done," and the kid stays in the office and keeps working at it for hours, occasionally checking his work with Mav and Ice until, voila, he does actually get it and also has a whole new understanding of Ice. 

Or if, god forbid, anyone had an accident, Ice would be all over trying to help with that (and help Mav work through it too) and protecting the students from any fallout from the brass because fuck them, they don't know what it's like to be in the air anymore. 

I also think that before the TOPGUN class starts, Ice would find Mav checking on all the canopies of all the jets and, once Ice realized that was what Mav was doing, would spend the next several hours with him helping out and making sure everything was operating properly, even though engineering had already looked at them. Can never be too sure, and if it provides Mav peace of mind, then Ice will do it, no questions asked. 

And so, despite saying some of the rudest crap most of these students have ever heard, they all love him. They all respect the ever-living-crap out of him, and learn to find him actually just kind of funny. It'd be a lot harder to like him if he were wrong, but he's so rarely wrong that in the end even the ones who do get pissed off at him manage to calm down. Students, as they graduate and leave TOPGUN, would probably talk to other graduating classes when they meet them on deployments like "oh my god, what did he say to your class?" "he once said --" "I didn't find it funny then but now I laugh every time I think about it -- " "he helped me figure out how to do..." so on so forth. 

There are a couple of the brass that aren't amused, but I think that's where Mav would come into play in his own way. Because Ice is good at what he does, and Mav sure as hell wants him around, and so should everyone else. Ice is just also not afraid to be an asshole about being good -- which the last person this is news to is Maverick. 

Maverick's just the only one Ice has encountered who can give as good as he gets, which is why as instructors, they do a pretty damn good job working together to whip their classes into shape. It's just funny that never in a million years did Mav think he'd be the "good cop" in their good cop/bad cop instructor situation, but he's resigned himself to his fate all the same. 

[hxxsxxng]

Do You Believe in Fate? s.jy

「pairing」 : childhoodbestfriend!jake x afab!reader

「synopsis」 : read the preview here

「word count」 : 15.3k

「genre」 : A lot of angst, smut, somewhat fluff, college au

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!! cursing, lot of nicknames, mentions of alcohol, consumption of alcohol, hangover, poor mental state, kissing, cuddling, alcoholism, toxic friends (not jake), teasing, crying, begging, distress, groping (consentual), unprotected sex, pulling out, loss of virginity, lowkey size kink, oral (m and f recieving), titty sucking, sharing a bath tub, mentions of hospitalizations, implications of potential death, depression. this is a repost

「authors note」 : i want to thank everyone for motivating me to finish this story and writing this was truly an experience that will effect me as a writer moving forward. i am tagging all of my mutuals so hopefully i could get some feed back! i love every last one of you

「taglist」 : @jakeflvrz - @simhinata - @eternality - @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby - @jakesangel - @yjwsgf - @diorsyun-deactivated20241118 - @en-ner-jay - @yeonzzzn - @hoonieesm - @hoonheepretty - @jaysupremacy - @cherry-park - @heeslomll - @alvojake - @taeghi - @dollyyuen - @sumzysworld - @wonsbaer - @simpjay - @sjylouvre - @starboimoon - @blurryriki - @yzzyhee - @sincerelyrki - @hoonven - @heeseungsbm

It was the summer before me and Jake’s junior year of university. We have been working all summer and it’s another other day at the office. Putting in check information for the bank was a lot more boring than I expected . Wake up, go to work, come home, sleep, repeat. There was no time to do anything else. We were always told that if we went to college, we would have a good job. That proved to be wrong. 

Both Jake and I are going through college together, though he landed a way better paying job than I did. When it comes to bills, he ends up having to pay more than me, but he swears up and down that it is not a big deal.

I set down my mug. I hear my phone ring. It’s Jake. “Hello?” he should be at work. “Hey Pumpkin, I got out early today, were there any groceries that we needed?”

“Oh, no I can’t think of anything.”  “Okay, Stay safe, I will see you later.”

Jake never really got time off of work but when he did, I usually tried to stay out of his hair and let him relax. I just continued to run reports, pretty much twiddling my thumbs until the clock struck 5 and I would make my way out of this hell hole.

Traffic was terrible as usual. A usually 7 minute drive turned into an hour. Days like this I just want to get home and throw all my stuff on the ground and lock myself away in my room. Maybe watch some TV. Or listen to some music while my computer is hooked up to it. Anything that distracts from knowing I have to go back to the job I hate the next day. My thoughts are interrupted by a honk coming from behind me. The light turns green. Thank God. But as soon as I pull away from the curb, a car pulls out in front of me. Damn those stupid drivers. I don’t even know how many times this month I’ve had to pull over so they could let someone pass. It isn’t worth getting into a fight with them about. I try to ignore them.

I made it back to our house just in time for the sun to still be out. I made way into the house and Jake was in the kitchen. It was an unusual sight. His after work routine typically consists of cracking open a cold one and playing his computer. “Hey princess” he greeted me.

I stand at the front door, taking off my shoes and hanging my keys on the rack. “What has you in a good mood all of a sudden” I ask suspiciously.

“Well since I got off work early, I figured i’d come home and suprise you with dinner since you just been eating so much take out recently” he replied nonchalantly. The thought makes me sick. “You didn’t need to do that Jake.” “Oh yes, I did. You haven’t been cooking for yourself for a couple months now. I wanted to show you how much your best friend cares about you” he says.

Reguardless of what I say, the food is made and there is no taking it back. I guess I can’t really argue with him over it.

“And besides, I know you have missed your mom cooking pasta for us when we would go to her house in Australia, I figured I should make some do you instead” he adds.

I slowly approach the table. He is still finishing up plating everything. He looks up at me and smiles. “It smells good” I say flatly. He takes off the oven mitts and wipes his hands on it. He sets my plate down in front of me and he pulls out the chair to my right and takes a seat.

“So how was your day Jake?” I asked awkwardly. He starts digging in and responds, “Not too bad. What about yours?”

“Same shit different day. Boss is always yelling at me and the company keeps treating me like garbage even though I am the only one who actually gives a fuck.” I complained, eating a piece of garlic toast. It tasted good, surprisingly good, considering the amount of spices he used.

“Well I am glad it’s Friday so you can take some time to unwind over the weekend” he attempts to comfort me but at this point i’m too tired.

“I guess.” I poke at my food a little bit. Why does Jake’s job seem so perfect? he easily makes twice as what I make and I rarely hear him complain about working either.

“You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to, I am not going to force you.” I guess Jake noticed me being hesitant about eating the rest of my meal.

“It’s not that I don’t want to eat it’s just that I’m really stressed and I don’t want to keep you here listening to me complain about the same things over and over again”

“Look at me” he said. I slowly lift my head for my eyes to meet with his. “I promise I will never get tired of listening to you” he reassured.

There he goes again, sending those butterflies flapping in my stomach. I don’t understand why he is so gentle and compassionate. It gives me goosebumps. I decide I might as well stop procrastinating and start enjoying the evening. “Thank you” I say, giving him a small smile. His face immediately lit up. It’s kind of cute. The rest of dinner went rather smoothly. Jake kept the conversation going, mostly talking about my day and what his was about, and then we would drift off into silence. He looked so relaxed and calm that I felt completely at ease. Even if I knew I should feel bad for keeping him up with my whining, I couldn’t bring myself to.

I stand up from the table and wash my plate. “I don’t know if anyone told you today, but you look gorgeous as always” he sneaks up behind me. “You don’t look too bad your self Jakey” I returned. My face was already a dark hue of red.

I decided maybe tonight I won’t rot away in my room. It’s a Friday night, I’ll have a little bit of fun. Still inside the house though. It is probably too cold outside anyway. I realize I am still in my work clothes. I return to my room to take them off and throw on my most comfortable pair of shorts and a talk top and take my Nintendo Switch to the living room.

Jake was already waiting there for me. He had a bottle of wine and 2 empty glasses. He looked up when I entered and smiled. I gave a shy smile and sat down next to him. He pulled me closer to him, pressing himself against me. Our legs intertwined under the couch. For a moment I forgot about the work situation and the world. In that moment it just felt nice to sit close to someone who cared for me unconditionally.

“What were you wanting to play?” he breaks the silence. “I was thinking we could play some Mario Kart” I suggested.

“Yeah we can, but you already know I’m gonna kick your ass”. He loves teasing me. I punched his shoulder and chuckled.

~~~~~~~~~~

He is in my bed. I just woke up and he is in my bed. I don’t know how to react. Maybe I drank a little too much? I really don’t remember anything after playing a few rounds of Mario Kart. He looks so peaceful. His dark brown hair all tangled up on the pillow. The way his biceps look in his black tank top. He doesn’t snore, but the way he breathes when he sleeps is very cute. There is a slight hint of stubble on his chin, almost like he hasn’t shaved in awhile. His lips are slightly parted. His face shows such contentment and relaxation. He looks so damn beautiful. I have to admit he is pretty attractive and I think he knows it. And I can’t help but wonder about what would happen if I leaned forward and kissed him. His soft lips pressed up against mine. I think it would be okay. Probably wouldn’t hurt. Scratch that, it would probably hurt a lot.

I woke up surprisingly early for a Saturday morning. Usually I am in bed until noon, but it’s only 9:30. Opposite of me, Jake likes to start his weekends bright and early, so it is a bit strange that he isn’t awake by now. I won’t bother him. It’s probably better this way. I roll over onto my side facing away from him. I close my eyes trying to fall back asleep. But it seems to be impossible. My mind is too preoccupied and Jake’s body is far too close to mine for my liking. I groan quietly. It doesn’t help at all.

I crawl out of bed, doing my best not to wake Jake up. As soon as I step out of the room, I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. It’s my mom. I guess I hadn’t returned and of her texts last night. She asks if I have slept okay and if I’ve eaten breakfast. When she sees I haven’t. She sends me a picture of the last time I was at her house eating spaghetti. “Just eat something sweetheart and take care of yourself” she reminds me gently. I sigh deeply before replying. “Mhmm thanks mom” I set my phone down on the kitchen counter and rummage through the fridge, hoping to find something appetizing for breakfast. As I search, I can't stop thinking about waking up next to Jake this morning. We've been best friends for so long, but recently I've started seeing him in a new light. The way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, how considerate he is, it stirs up the feelings I've been trying to suppress. I shake my head slightly and settle on making some eggs and toast.

As I cook, memories of last night come flooding back. The wine, the laughter, the gentle way he pulled me close on the couch as we played games. My heart flutters just thinking about how natural and right it felt being cuddled up next to him. But I can't read too much into it. Jake is my oldest friend, he probably sees the intimacy as purely platonic. The sizzle of the eggs brings me back to reality. I quickly plate the food and grab a mug of coffee before heading to the living room. I'll just relax and enjoy this lazy Saturday morning.

I'm about halfway through my breakfast when I hear Jake's footsteps shuffling down the hallway. He emerges, hair sticking up adorably, letting out a big yawn. "Mornin' sunshine," he says with a sleepy grin. I feel my cheeks warm at the nickname. "Morning. I made some extra if you want it," I reply, nodding toward the kitchen. "You're the best." Jake passes over to dish up a plate, giving me a perfect view of his lean back muscles stretching against his thin t-shirt. I quickly avert my eyes as he returns to the couch. As he sits next to me, our arms brush and I feel that spark of electricity again.

Jake doesn't seem to notice, just digs into his eggs happily. We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before he speaks up again.

"That was a fun night last night, wasn't it?" His eyes meet mine with a warm smile. "We'll have to do it again soon." I return the smile, hoping he can't see the longing behind it. "Yeah, it was really nice." Nice to just relax and be ourselves without any expectations or pressures. Nice to feel...that close to him.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

~~~~~~~~~~

Jake has a friend named Jay. When Jake isn’t at work or at the house, he is most likely hanging out with Jay. Jay is a go with the flow kind of guy and was kind of a womanizer. There’s nothing wrong with it, but I try not to hang out with Jake when Jay is there for that reason.

Jake and Jay always go out for drinks on Saturday nights. I can’t remember the last time he was home on a Saturday night and I didn’t have to take care of him the next morning. He routinely stays at Jay’s house that night then gets an Uber back here the next morning.

Jake and Jay's Saturday night routine carried on like clockwork most weekends. Around 9 PM, Jay would pick Jake up and they'd head to their usual bar downtown. The two friends would drink heavily, telling outrageous stories and shamelessly checking out any attractive women who passed by.

For Jake, it was just a guys' night out away from work stress. But for Jay, it was a chance to flirt and see if he could add another notch to his bedpost. Jake didn't partake in that behavior himself, but he also didn't reproach Jay for it. He figured it was just Jay's way.

Come last call, the two would be pretty sloshed. Instead of dealing with an Uber that late, Jake would just crash at Jay's place. He'd wake up hungover the next morning and request a ride from a car service back home.

When he arrived home disheveled, I'd already have water and painkillers ready for him. I hated having to nurse him after these nights, but it was better than having Jay's leering presence around me. His constant objectification of women made me deeply uncomfortable. So I put up with Jake's hangovers to avoid that part of their friendship dynamic.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Jake opens the front door. I can hear him complaining about his headache already. He sets his keys down and immediately lays down in the couch.

"Hey babygirl, where is the aspirin? Do we have any aspirin left?" he asks groggily. A small chuckle escapes my lips before I turn around to look at him, smiling slightly. “I already got it out for you, and here is a glass of water”. His eyes are closed as I place the pills in his hand and he smiles once they make contact. “Thank you so much for taking care of me princess.” he praises as he shot the tablets into his mouth.

I giggle. This man is ridiculous. A loud yawn escapes his lips and I smile. As much as I hate seeing him like this, I am content with letting him have his fun every once in a while. His shirt is buttoned incorrectly, showing off his muscular chest. I look back at his face. His eyes were opened and he noticed me staring.

“What’s wrong Princess?” he slurs. “Do I look stupid or something?” “No Jake, you look great” I reply truthfully. “You just looked a little tired is all.”

Jake rolls over on the couch and turns onto his side. “I know you’re going to tell me I should rest more, but it’s so hard to sleep when you’re not in the same room.”

“Really? You usually fall asleep within seconds. Why is that?” He shrugs. “Don’t know babe. Just don’t like being alone.” I frown. That’s true enough. Jake never really liked being by himself. Ever since we were in diapers, he had always been surrounded by people. His parents, coworkers…me.

I decide to ask something rather personal instead. Maybe that will distract us for a while. “How’s your mom doing lately? Do you miss her?” Jake doesn’t respond right away. He starts fidgeting under my gaze. His hands begin picking at a loose thread on the couch cushion.

“Yeah, yeah. I miss her. I wish she wouldn’t be working so much now. She used to work less back when we were high school, you know? I still get worried sometimes” he answers with a slight edge in his voice. “It’s okay Jake. You know she likes working for your dad. It helps pay for everything” I remind him softly. He nods slowly. After a few moments, he finally breaks the silence.

“Why do you ask?” I guess he was caught off guard by the question. “I know it’s been a while since you’ve seen them, Australia isn’t in walking distance, ya know.” I try to cheer him up.

He sighs and looks down at the couch. “I guess I just wish I was able to spend more time with her like I did when I was younger. It doesn’t matter though.” He shakes his head dismissively. “She’ll come visit whenever she can. I’m just glad we both decided to live somewhere else for college. I would definitely have missed our family trips.”

“Oh…” I bite my lip unsure what to say to comfort him. He’s always taken his mother very seriously. Even when he was young he often complained that she worked too hard and stressed herself out, which only made him madder. In all fairness, she did work extremely hard—even harder than he ever could. And now that she has found some semblance of stability, he worries that he won’t be able to provide for her the lifestyle he wanted for her.

I reach out and pat Jake's arm reassuringly. "I know how much you miss your mom. But she's doing what she needs to in order to help take care of the bills and your dad. You know she'd be here if she could."

Jake nods slowly. "Yeah, you're right. I just wish there was more I could do from here, instead of feeling so helpless being so far away. I know my dad would want me there as well" He runs a hand through his tousled hair. "At least I have you around. Don't know what I'd do. You kinda of bring a feeling of home to me. I hope that made sense.”

I feel my cheeks flush a little at his words. "Well, you know I'll always be here for you," I reply, trying to keep my tone light.

“Thank you sweet heart.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Our parents went to University together. That’s how they met. My mom met Jake’s mom in a sociology class, and they have been best friends ever since. Being college bestfriend basically guarantees that your kid will have someone to grow up with, and they took advantage of that. He has litterally been there for every life event my mom felt was important enough to let him in on.

Though we didn’t become friends by choice, we were latched onto eachother ever since we were introduced. I remember I would ball my eyes out when even Jake got sick because it meant I couldn’t hang out with him after school or have play dates on the weekends. As we grew up, the situations weren’t as innocent. I would confide in him when I was upset, and he would hold me in his arms after my nightmares. I even found comfort in him after my numerous hearts breaks in highschool. Though none of my relationships were ever that serious, I was still unmistakably heartbroken.

Jake was never really a ladies man in highschool, or in general. He studied more on acedemics, which I guess was a good idea considering where he is now. Although I’d never said anything about it, his dating career was pretty dead for several years. In my opinion, it seemed unfair to Jake to not go on dates after highschool. While I understood why he wasn’t interested, it seemed a waste not to try. After all, I’m sure he could get any chick he wanted if he tried, I mean look at him. He had grown from a cute kid playing video games to one who had a perfect body and gorgeous features to match. So yeah, I loved that he was a boy and my friend. But there was no way I could give myself completely to such a man, especially with our history.

Jake is a lot different when I’m around, a lot more caring and loving. I’m reminded of all those times when I would find Jake crying when we came back from vacation during our sophomore year, or how he would suddenly appear at my room door at 5am looking for reassurance or help. At the time, I thought it was because he needed someone to talk to about the things troubling his mind, but now that I think about it , it’s kind of obvious he’s lonely. His dad has been in and out of the hospital recently. I don’t really want to push Jake into going into detail about his condition because it might make him emotional, but I just know that it is another thing that is weighing on him.

When I first started seeing him more and more recently, I thought maybe he wanted us to become closer friends. I mean, he was always talking about how much he adores spending time with me, and how grateful he is to me for saving him and bringing him back to life. I think the situation with his parents are weighing down on him more than I realize.

~~~~~~~~~~

The rhythmic tapping of rain against the window pane fills the hushed stillness of my bedroom. I lie awake, Jake's sleeping form curled up beside me, his head pillowed on my chest. His eyebrows are furrowed even in slumber, mouth turned down in a soft frown - the worry lines etched across his features never seem to fully fade these days. Gently, I brush some stray locks of hair off his forehead, my thumb tracing over the crease between his brows. Jake's been carrying the entire weight of his family's struggle on those broad shoulders.

A quiet sigh escapes his lips and he burrows deeper into my side, one arm slinging possessively over my waist. We've been a tangle of limbs like this more nights than not recently. After the latest bout of bad news about his dad, Jake sought me out like a man wandering through the desert in desperate need of water. I remember the rawness in his voice as he begged to stay in his room, to be held and comforted, the same way I always have. Whatever Jake needs from me, he'll never be turned away.

Trailing my fingers through Jake's hair, I allow myself to drink in every detail of him in this rare moment of peace. The slight upturn of his perfectly sloped nose. The way his plump lips are parted just enough to allow shallow puffs of breath to ghost across my skin. He really is beautiful in the most masculine, rugged way. Not that I'd ever say that out loud - it would be mortifying if Jake caught me ogling him like some lovesick fool. Then again, I've been a lovesick fool for the better part of a decade when it comes to him.

Lost in the flow of my thoughts, I don't even register the soft snuffling noises at first. It's only when Jake's eyelashes start fluttering that I glance down to find him blinking up at me groggily. Without a word, he shifts until his head is cradled in the crook of my neck, placing a slow, scorching kiss to the exposed skin of the side of my neck.

The world seems to screech to a halt. That...was definitely intentional. Purposefully intimate. There's no way it was an accident or a brief moment of sleep-hazy confusion. Not with the way Jake's pupils are blown wide, his lips parting to reveal the tip of his tongue darting out to wet them instinctively.

Just as quickly as the spark ignited, Jake seems to deflate, burying his face into the juncture of my neck and shoulder with a muffled whimper. His hands are fisting in the fabric of my sleep shirt, clutching me with a white-knuckled grip like I'm his lifeline back to the surface. Like if he doesn't hold on, he might drown. "Hey hey hey…" I gently stroke the length of his spine calming him. "You're okay now, everything is alright, relax..." Jake's breathing gradually slows. Gradually, he begins to relax, his fingers slackening their death grip in my shirt.

A few moments pass in silence before he lifts his head and looks directly at me. His eyes are slightly bloodshot, probably from all the crying. They’re red and glassy, a stark contrast to his usually flawless complexion. "Sorry," he murmurs. I shrug slightly. "Don't apologize." After a few sniffles, I feel his breathing become more consistent and his face is dry. He starts to do that cute breathing that I talked about. After I realized that he has met some sort of peace and fell asleep, I fell asleep soon after.

~~~~~~~~~~

The morning light filters in through the cracks of my blinds, shining over Jake's sleeping body in a soft glow. My eyes trace the line of his jawbone, the gentle rise and fall of his bare chest as he breathes. He looks so tranquil like this.

Jake smells so fucking good. If I could lay on his chest and take it his scent all day, I really would. Not to mention his face is extremely handsome. He has the face that other guys wish they had. It’s very obvious he takes care of himself.

I can't stop replaying that moment from last night over and over in my mind. The heat of Jake's lips pressing against the skin of my neck. Part of me was desperate to surge forward then and seal my mouth over Jake's, to finally give in to the magnetic pull that's been drawing me to him.

But I didn't. I couldn't. Because I'm also terrified of what exploring these feelings could mean for our relationship.

Losing him isn't an option I can fathom. And he seemed to make the same choice in that moment by turning away, burying his face against my neck with a whimper that could have been either anguished or relieved.

We're cowards, the two of us. Content to dance around the fire instead of being set ablaze

Part of me wonders if Jake was hoping for something in return. Maybe a kiss? Maybe he did it to show it trust and comfort for me. He knows what he is doing. The moment his lips touched my neck, my whole body shivered. I wanted more but I contained myself.

My body still hums with the memory of his kiss, nerves tingling with equal parts of dread. I want to reach out and trail my fingertips over the golden skin of his forearm, to breathe him in and see if he tastes how I've imagined on my tongue.

How many more moments like last night can I survive before the truth comes out? I don't have the answers. All I know is that I'm still undeniably his - body, mind and heart.

It has been too many nights where I imagine his lips against mine. The way he chills my spine when whispers in my ear makes me crave hearing his voice. I wonder what he would be like in a relationship with me, he treats me like a princess already, I don’t know how much better it could get.

My mind drifts to memories of him holding me tight when I was upset, his muscular arms engulfing me in a warm embrace. The feeling of safety and contentment that would wash over me in those moments. If I could experience that every night by his side, it might just be pure bliss.

I fantasize about waking up intertwined with Jake, our legs tangled together as we trade kisses and touches unhurried by the outside world. Combing my fingers through his bed hair while he peppers light kisses along my jawline.

Maybe there could be slowmake-out sessions on the couch, all heated caresses and desperate roaming hands before things inevitably progress further. I would lavish every sculpted line of Jake's body with devoted attention. I imagine he would be an attentive, generous lover, just as giving in the bedroom as he is in every other aspect of his life.

I also can’t get over the mental hurdle that maybe it is kind of gross that I see my bestfriend this way. I could easily mistake all of the kind things he does and how he treats me as something more than what he intends it to be, and that would make me uneasy. I have never done anything sexual with him and anything that would imply sexual attraction, yet I am still here wondering what it is like to have sex with him.

~~~~~~~~~~

I really need to get my feelings sorted out soon because they are just going to keep building up until they eventually burst, and I really don’t want Jake to witness that.The week went the same again. and again. and again. Wake up, go to work, do nothing after. But recently, Jake got a promotion at his job, which was grounds for celebration.

The local diner is busy with the lunch crowd, the air thick with aromas of burgers sizzling on the griddle and fresh baked pie. Jake and I slip into our usual corner booth, the cracked vinyl cushions molding to our forms like old friends. This place has been our go to spot since we started university here. We've shared so many moments in this very booth over the years. Happy celebrations or acing a big exam.

Which is why the thick tension clouding the air between us right now feels so alien. Instead of our usual easy camaraderie, I can barely look at Jake without my pulse kicking up. The memory of his firm chest brushing mine, those plush lips just a table length away, has my skin flushing hot. I squeeze my thighs together secretly, desperate for any kind of friction to alleviate the slow burn of arousal low in my belly.

Just being this close to Jake is enough to have that want unfolding all over again. Filling my head with flashes of how it could feel to finally give in - his weight blanketing me, our bodies moving together in a sinuous rhythm as his mouth trails searing kisses along my neck. "Hey." Jake's low rumble jolts me out of the vivid fantasy.

"You're zoning out, sweetheart. Everything okay?" My cheeks flame darker, that suddenly seems too intimate. I duck my head, but not before catching the unmistakable smirk curling at the corners of Jake's lips. That insufferable, cocky smirk he knows drives me crazy. I want to kiss it off his stupidly perfect face. Or maybe bite at the sharp line of his jaw, put that arrogant look to better use while I'm straddling his lap and--

"Fine," I mumble, hooking a loose strand of hair behind my ear to avoid meeting Jake's eyes. The small movement causes our elbows to brush together on the tabletop. His skin is so soft. Jake's brow furrows, like he doesn't miss the way I've gone tense and flustered all over again. Before I can blink, his hand is covering mine. Those long fingers tenderly stroking along my knuckles, smoothing over my suddenly clammy skin.

Slowly, purposefully, Jake tugs my hand closer until my palm is cupping his scruffy jaw. I suck in a sharp, shaky breath at the contact, at being able to feel the rasp of his five o'clock shadow against my sensitive skin. Jake holds me there for a moment, those meltingly warm eyes boring into mine like he's trying to read my mind.

Then, in the most tempting act of torture imaginable, Jake presses his lips to my wrist in the barest brush of mouth against pulse point. I swear I could die right then and there. He slowly pulls away, looking up to meet my eyes once again. Our gaze meets, intense and lustful, filled with a hunger that only he knows how to create. This feels so wrong, so dangerous. The fact he's staring down at my lips, licking his subconsciously causes a slight hitch in my breathing. A tiny part of me wants to lean forward and press my lips to his. But I stop the impulse with the thought of what we did last night, and the consequences of getting caught again.

Instead, I let out a sigh and break eye contact before pulling my hand away and placing my elbow on the table. I rub my thumb across my wrist absentmindedly while avoiding Jake's gaze, the words I want to say stuck somewhere inside my throat like rocks. There isn't anything I can do. What I have with Jake is different now. I'm scared shitless to tell him how I truly feel.

"What's wrong? Are you alright?" Jake asks, worry laced into his tone. He places a hand on my thigh, making me jump slightly. “It’s nothing, really” I lied. The server comes over to the table to take our order. “What could I get started for you to drink” he says.

-

Our meal goes by normally, Jake pretending that he had done nothing earlier. Afterward, we head home, the silence thickening the further into town we get. There’s nothing for me to say, no reason to prolong this conversation I’m dreading anymore. He must sense my sudden change of mood. He drops his arm from around my shoulders and lets his hand fall limply back onto his knee.

We walk silently in the direction of our house. Neither of us speaking. It’s almost as if we’re both waiting for the other to make the first move. I have an overwhelming urge to turn to him and kiss him.

~~~~~~~~~~

I can’t stop thinking about Jake. He is the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about when I go to bed. Over the past few weeks, I feel like he has become a lot more touchy, which don’t really mind. He smiles for a little longer when we eat together. We have slept in each others room a lot more often than before. I may just be over analyzing it.

Jake is going out with Jay again. As usual, I don’t plan on him coming home tonight, and I will wake up to a hungover Jake. Jay isn’t really the friend to take care of you when you feel ill, so that responsibility is left on me.

I hate to admit, but when Jake isn’t home for a night, I fight the urge to sleep in his bed. I have been sleeping in his bed with him so often that it leaves me in withdrawal when we aren’t in the same bed.

Just being in his room, his scent diffused in the air, it makes me miss him so much more. Even without thinking about the fact that it is his room, the bed is so much more comfortable than mine, which is all the better reason to sleep there.

I walk in, already in my shorts and t-shirt, and wonder around. He has the picture of us that his mom took when we were first leaving for Korea framed on his nightstand.

I pick it up and examine it closely. It is the one photo where we didn’t appear stiff. I remember the day clearly; I was standing with him, grinning broadly. I never expected to smile so much when I was young, but my memories of our trip leave a bright happy feeling inside my stomach.

I set the photo back down and I lift the blanket from the corner of the bed. I slide into the bed, laying on his side like I usually do when he isn’t here. I instantly melt into the sheets. I scroll on my phone whilst fighting my eyelids to stay awake, but eventually I fall asleep prematurely.

Jake usually keeps his room pretty cool, which calls for cuddling closely under the blankets. In the middle of my sleep, I am shot awake when my cold limbs are instantly warmed by an unexpected sensation. Why was Jake home?

Jake continues to get comfortable under the blanket, not even batting an eye at the fact that I was just sleeping in his bed. I pull him closer by his waist to fulfill the rest of the warmth that my body craves.

“Why are you shivering sweetheart, you could have turned on the heater.” he worries.

“I wanted the temperature to be tolerable when you got back in the morning” such a stupid explanation. “Speaking of, why are you here right now? what happened to Jay’s?” I questioned, completely forgetting how we got into this situation in the first place.

“Jay was feeling ill so we called it a night pretty early, I only got three shots down.”

Jake runs a lazy finger over my hip bone and leans in to nuzzle the crook of my neck. Shit. He’ll notice the way I react to his touches and I won’t be able to explain myself. Fuck.

“I thought I would come to my room and catch up on sleep but look what we have here instead” he says with that stupid smirk on his face.

“Oh- oh I’m sorry.” I slowly pull away from him to make way back to my room. “No babe, please don’t go, I want you to stay” he begs while keeping our fingers latched to keep our extended arms together. He then latched his hand around my wrist to slowly pull me back down to his level on the bed. It’s all happening too fast. He uses the same hand to comb his fingers through the strands at the bottom of my hair on the back of my head, and keeps his hand there entangled. He uses his hand to guide my head into a sensual kiss. He gently pressed his lips against mine. So plump, so dreamy. I reciprocated the kiss instantly, matching his pace and moving our lips in sync so perfectly. The way our lips intertwined so naturally gave me actual chills.

After giving me what I have dreamt about for years, he pulls away, leaving a string of saliva to connect our lips. He looks into my eyes, his pupils as voids. “Please stay” he whispers again. I nod dumbly, my brain still short circuiting as Jake bites is bottom lip. He’s so fucking beautiful, my eyes are practically burning holes into his lips.

His fingers gently run over my cheekbone, lingering on my jawline, tracing along my nose. “How did I ever deserve someone as beautiful as you?” he murmurs. His voice is full of admiration and love and affection. He trails his fingers along my jaw, pausing to lightly graze my collar bone, making goosebumps erupt across my skin. The heat radiating off Jake’s body is practically burning me alive.

Without thinking about it for a second longer, I close the gap between our lips again. We moved in sync, in harmony. It feels like my lips were only made to kiss his. He rests his free hand on the side of my face and uses it as grip to deepen the kiss. Kissing him I had a sense of saftey. The longer our lips were together, the more open I was to his attempts at adding tongue into the mixture. It was a sloppy wet mess, but is all I have ever wanted.

I slide my hand between out warm bodies and feel across his obvious bulge in his boxers. He instantly let out a groan when I took his imprint into my palm. I stroked it gently as we continued with intertwined tongues. His grunts and breathlessness was insanely arousing.

It was clear that we were both extremely sleepy. After a few more minutes of kissing, we eventually pulled away, with no words spoken.

I try my best to hold in my moans as the warmness travels up my body like lava. He stops tracing my collarbone to trail his hands up the side of my body, stopping to stroke a line of soft kisses along the side of my neck.

My hands grasp tightly at the material covering Jake’s shoulder blades and I use that leverage to get back under the blankets with him. We both face eachother, with our legs crossing randomly over one another. He once again rests his head in the crook of my neck, leaving a kiss like he did once before. Only this time, I know his true intention.

~~~~~~~~~

The fall semester is starting back up again. Junior year, both is our schedules are jammed packed with upper division classes. Having to balance so many classes and still having to work to keep up with the bills for the house, Jake and I hardly see each other. Even though I love spending every single day with him, I feel like I’m living with a ghost whenever I see his empty seat. When I wake up every morning to find him gone, my heart starts to ache. It hurts knowing that we might not spend as much time together. I know that the sooner that this semester ends, the easier everything will be.

The end of the semester wasn’t going to be soon though, it’s barely September. I’ve decided to try and set a study date with Jake and make sure nothing was overlapping the times. We eventually agreed apon Thursday night after he got off of his afternoon job. Maybe around 8 o’clock. I was getting a head start on my Statistics work before he showed up because I knew it would take me a while. He eventually showed up close to 8:30.

I had my headphone covering my ears, shoulders slumped over my desk, and he comes up behind me and take my shoulders in his hands and sensually massages. “Ah thank youuuu~~~ my muscles are tight” I jumped at the unexpected pressure. He drives his thumbs a little bit deeper into my blades and slides his straight arms down my stomach for a hug. “I missed you” he griped with puppy dog eyes, resting his head on my shoulder. I take off my headphone and hold both of his forearms and pull him deeper into this awkwardly positioned hug.

After a few seconds he pulls away and grabs out his bag with his laptop, and runs to his room to grab his chair to pull up next to mine. I was still seated, watching, unable to take my eyes off him. He settles himself and puts the laptop on his knees in front of him. He opens his notebook, and turns the page to the worksheet for this month. My fingers naturally find their way to his back and scratch gently while he looks over his work. They made their way up his clothed back and into his hair and I ran them through this tangled hair. He let out a sigh of fufillment and he allows himself self to close his eyes to fully take in the relaxing feeling. He breaths in deeply and slowly, taking in my coconut scent.

“Fuck it” he says under his breath.

He turns in my directed and crashed his lips into mine with no hesitation. He wraps his arms around my neck, deepening the kiss. I was startled at the quick change in plans but my lips soon melted into his and I was under his control. My tongue dances along his bottom lip, asking for entrance as he obliges and gives access. He lifts me from my chair and pulls me over to straddle his thighs.

He guides his lips to mine again, running his hands down my back as he pushes me lower into his lap. I wrap my legs slightly around his waist for some sense of support. The sensual make out and lap straddling goes on and on, until he breaks away slightly to speak, “You can move if you want sweetheart”.

He reconnects our lips and I find myself needing any sort of friction to ease the pressure building between my legs. Subconsciously grinding my core over his thigh slowly. I bite down on his lower lip causing him to suck on my tongue immediately as a response. God, he tastes so good, like the cocoa butter lip balm I got him for his birthday.

I continue grinding over his thighs picking up the aggressiveness, as he continues to run his hands through my hair. “Feeling desperate, darling?” he teases, smirking as he tries to pull me back into a kiss. “Shut up” I harden my fist and hit the front of his shoulder. He always finds a way to tease me. He chuckles as we connect our lips once again.

He slides both of his hands under my thighs stands up from his chair, and I wrap my legs around his body as he carries me to the bed. He slowly lays me down on my back with my legs still wrapped around his waist. He doesn’t break the kiss but as soon as he sets me down, I can feel his erection bulging through his pants rubbing against me sweet spot. We stop kissing momentarily as he looks at me, with lust filled eyes. He lets one of his hands rest on my chest, while the other traces along the side of my neck to my chin, tilting my head upward and pressing his forehead against mine. “Look at how gorgeous you are right now,” he says with pure adoration. “I can’t help myself when I’m with you.” A sudden surge of desire hits me and my hands grip his hips tighter as he starts to trail kisses on my jawline. I can feel an undeniable wetness spreading in my panties. I am becoming desperate.

I placed my hands at the bottom of his shirt and began lifting it up, but he finished the job and lifted it over his head and threw it to the side. I have seen Jake shirtless a million times over but this time is different. It feels more intimate than the last ones I have seen. I felt my throat tighten as my eyes were drawn to his chest which looked absolutely flawless. “So beautiful” I whisper and I trace my fingers over his abs and chest. His body looks perfectly carved and sculpted by a god. “It’s all for you, baby” he cooed.

I reach my arms around his back and gently dig my nails into his skin as he continues to kiss me. He grabs the bottom of my shirt and pulls it over my head, revealing my breasts. I wasn’t wearing a bra since I had been home all afternoon, and I definitely wasn’t expecting this. As soon as he sees them, he takes one of them in his hand. He holds my right breast in his palm and gently rubs it between his thumb and index finger.

His gaze remains focused on my chest as his mouth begins to travel down, taking his time to enjoy each and every piece of my body. He stops to give me another kiss before placing his lips on my nipple. He sucks on my nipple whilst his teeth nipped at my flesh, causing me to moan lowly. I grabbed his hair pulling him closer to me. I grind my pelvis onto his dick, eliciting a groan and he removes his mouth, making a ‘pop’ sound, to look at his next target intensely. He took my other breast into his mouth, swirling his tongue around my nipple and softly sucking, making me arch my back and having a moan escape my lips. Jake trails his hands down my waist while keeping his mouth latched to me.

His fingers went into the top of my sweatpants and I stopped him. “I have never done this before” I admitted. “Do you want me to stop?” he questions. How could I ever want him to stop? He is the only person I have ever imagined losing my virginity to. That aside I simply answer “No, Jakey, I trust you”

He continues to pull me pants down and off my legs and throws it to the side like he did with the other articles of clothing. He licks up my neck and comes to my ear. “I have never done this either, we can learn together” he whispered. Hearing this made my noticibly more wet, the way he whispers into my ear raises every single hair on my body. The thought of us having our first times with each other made this whole so much more meaningful and made me a lot less hesitant.

The only thing I have left on are my black panties and Jake looks like he is a man with a mission. I grab his bulge through his jeans and gently massage. He becomes a groaning mess as I palm his desperate tip. He is barely even able to keep his lips a decent distance apart for me to kiss him. “Fuuuck your hand feels so good” I take my other hand to start unbuckling his jeans, which he seems to have no problem with.

I pulled the belt off and unbuttoned his jeans and pulls them down, to where he took them all the way off. All he has left is his boxers. I can clearly see the imprint of he large cock through the thin fabric. I furrowed my eyebrows. “Does it look too big?, we can stop now if we need to” he questioned, seeing the fear on my face. I gulped and said “No, I can take it.”

I continued stroking through his boxers and he moved my panties to the side and rubbed gently on my folds. I gasped at the feeling. The better it started to feel, the less and less I was able to focus on Jake and more on myself. He had me wrapped around his finger. No amount of masturbating could compare to the way he is making me feel within these few minutes.

He slid his fingers down my clit and inserted one. He pumped it in and out until I felt that I was ready for more. Then 2. It hurt a little more but I slowly got used to it. He leaned his head down while his fingers still stuffed me and started leaving kisses on my clit. For having so little experience, he worked his finger and tongue like a professional. The way his tongue danced across my sensitive bud made my body shutter, and I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

“I love the sounds of your whimpers” he moaned against my clit teasing me. I couldn’t even respond. My breathing quickened, and the more his fingers fucked me, the more I could tell how wet I was getting. I whimpered again and I gripped his hair signaling how good he was making me feel. “It tastes just as sweet as I imagined” he praised. He has imagined this before? What else has he imagined?

His fingers slowed down and he slipped two inside of me simultaneously. My hips bucked up and I let out a small gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. He continued working his fingers inside of me. He was eating like a man who hadn’t seen a meal in a week.

“I want to taste you now.” I protest, pulling his face up for a kiss. His eyes look like he is drunk as his tongue swirled with mine and he gave me a slow deep kiss. He sucked on my bottom lip, then bit me, and finally opened his mouth and licked my tongue with his. He pulls away and allows me to pull his boxers past his hips and onto the ground. His dick sprung out. God, it was a lot thicker than I imagined.

I take the base of it and put my lips against the tip, swirling my tongue around. His muscular hand combs through the top of my hair and gently grips it as I begin to take more of his length in my mouth. I could feel it sliding smoothly in and out of my throat. His grip on my hair tightens and he guides me to take more in moderation. “God yes baby, that’s it” he encouraged. I looked up at him, the room filled with breathy moans and he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. I felt the waves of his voice vibrating through my lips as he spoke, causing goosebumps to erupt across my entire body. I could feel my juices flowing through my pussy and down my belly.

I continue sucking him until he is almost completely buried inside my mouth. He leans down placing his lips beside my ear. “I don’t think I can hold out much longer” he whispers, making me smile.

He slowly pulls himself out of my mouth and lifts me back onto the bed. I use my arms to cover my chest, I am a little nervous. He leans down and kisses me on the forehead. “Don’t hide yourself, you look perfect darling” he said proceeding to take my tongue in his mouth. God this man loves using his tongue. I have never felt this type of intimacy before, and to think I am covering that ground with my bestfriend, was not how I thought it was going to go to say the least.

He brushes his tip in between my folds, spreading my wetness around. “Are you sure you want to keep going? We can stop here, just say the words and I will stop” “Please keep going” I am practically begging. He seems to enjoy my obvious desperation. He guide the tip in slowly, trying not to overwhelm me. He goes in a little deeper. I wince in pain. “Ah baby go a little slower” I pleaded. I didn’t want him to stop but it was definitely starting to hurt. He held the same spot for a few more seconds, then slowly pushed more in. I have gotten used to the stinging, as it slowly turns to pleasure.

“Shit princess, you’re so fucking tight” Jake praises. He was getting lost in his own world since he has never felt a warm pussy wrapped aroung his dick before, especially not one like mine. I felt his tip hit the enterance of my cervix. He bottomed out. He didn’t move. He didn’t even want to move, he was just enjoying the moment of his cock being buried deep inside his bestfriend. “You ok babe?” he asked, concerned by the lack of movement from me. “Yeah, just give me a second” I replied, attempting to get myself under control.

I began to relax, letting the warmth envelop my entire body. I signal that his is able to move. He slowly pulls his cock out of my cunt, and immediately pushes it back in. He rests both of his arms next to my face and comes down to kiss me. I can see the faint beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “You do not know how long I have been wanting to do this” He whispered into my ear. Once again, Jakes words send a tingle down my spine. He instantly latched himself onto my neck, sucking harshly while still keeping a slow pace down below. I grip his brown head of hair as he leaves purple marks on my skin, bruising my neck. He pulls out and goes back in, this time at a consistent rate.

Our torsos are in complete contact and he sets both of his hands under my back. I wrap my legs around his waist to allow him deeper access, which he so desperately needed. His lips were locked with mine. Our tongues were dancing along with each other as well as our chests. Every time he would suck on my lower lip, I moan against his lips.

“This is what I have been dreaming about” He says breaking away and kissing my nose. He finds me comfortable with his picking up the pace, and he did with no hesitation. He nuzzles into my neck with his hair partially resting on my face. There was no pain left to feel and my whole body was washed over with pleasure. His length fit so perfectly into my warm cunt, like we were make to only fuck eachother.

Jake head still right next to mine, I turn my head and whisper “Jakey, it feels so gooood~~~~” with inconsistency in my breathing. Jake’s ears were pleasured as if he were listening to his favorite song. He slowed down the pace, only to drive his dick deeper into my swollen cunt with each thrust. “Oh my god it’s feels so fucking good, you taking my cock like this.” he whines in my ear. He pulls away from my neck and just watching himself fuck into my pussy.

There was so much sweat on his face it was so fucking hot. It was dripping off his chin and onto my shoulder and neck. His hair was starting to get wet. He took both of my legs over his shoulders, making sure to maintain eye contact. Each stroke was deeper and deeper. Faster and faster. He was getting desperate. I don’t know how much more my inexperienced pussy can handle. He takes his thumb and gently rubs my clit. Ugh, I have never felt this sort of sensation before, being fucked at the same time.

My moans became more uncontrollable and my legs started to close in. “Fuckkkkk Jakey I am about to cum” I am on the verge of tears, overstimulated with pleasure. The pressure on my clit mixed with the repeated abuse of my cervix was enough to drive me over the edge. “Mmmmm yes doll, cum on my cock” he says lowly. My walls tighten around him and my hips are shaking. My heart is beating at 1000bpm, not a coherent thought left in my fucked-dumb mind. He practically has to pry my legs apart to maintain access to my slit. He holds my hips in place as he gives me a few more strokes. His became less and less powerful.

Once he felt his orgasm coming, he quickly pulled out of me, letting out a loud groan, and shot his strings of white cum all over my tummy and chest. The room was filled with loud pants and the scent of sex. “You are all I have ever wanted” I reach up to tuck his hair behind his ear, not minding the fact that his face was soaked. We rest our foreheads together and rub our noses across each other as we both try to catch our breath.

After a second of recovery, He runs to the bathroom and grabs a rag to clean me up. I could barely move my body, my entire entity was more than sore. It hurt to move, all I could do is lay there. Jake returns with a cold washcloth, and starts wiping off my stomach. “Do you need help getting cleaned up babe?” he asks, sitting down beside me, his arm around my naked torso. “Could we take a bath together?” I suggested.

A bath together after the fact is far more intimate, and could give us some time to talk things over. “Of course” and smiles. “I can go get it set up right now, darling, you just rest for a few minutes” He gives me a kiss on the nose and forehead before heading to run the faucet.

~~~~~~~~~~

I don’t know how I could let this happen. I lay on my bed rerunning all of the events writhing the last hour in my head. I really don’t know why we both allowed it to go that far. I admit, I loved every second of it, but now that it’s over, we have to deal with the effects.

Jake comes back from running the faucet. He looks tired. Maybe a bath is something we both need. “Come here sweetheart” he brings a towel and sets it on the counter.

The bathroom mirror was completely fogged over. “Are you trying to make soup out of us?” I said jokingly. “I know you like taking your showers hot, so I thought maybe it would be the same for baths” he chuckled.

I dip my toes into the half full tub. Jake was right, the temperature was just how I liked it. I held onto his shoulder as I submerge my other foot. The water lapped over the rim of the bath tub.

I keep hold onto his hand so he can guide himself into the tub, taking a lot more balance and tolerance for him to try to get used to the boiling water. “God damn, you like it hot hot” he teases though I can see him furrowing his eyebrows at the heat.

“Oh don’t be such a baby” I tease him right back. He pouts playfully. I love seeing that kind of reaction from him. “I don’t mind” he mumbles in embarrassment, trying to hide the smile on his face.

Once his feet were able to get used to the water, we both slowly sat the rest of our bodies into the tub. Jakes hair is a mess, it’s going in all different directions. I reach out to tuck some of it behind his ears for him, and then cup his face in my palm. I stroke his cheek with my thumb. He tilts his head, there he goes with those irresistible puppy dog eyes again.

“What’s wrong baby?” he asks. I remain in eye contact with him. “Were you being serious? When you said you have dreamt about… that…?”

He’s silent. So much blood rushing to his face his cheeks are like strawberries. He scratched the back of his head. “I mean yeah… why wouldn’t I” he hesitated.

“I mean look at you, you are insanely attractive and we live together and have known each other forever. Of course my mind is going to wonder. It has wondered many more times than I would like to admit.” he explained himself.

Unintentionally, our bodies kept inching towards each other in that bath. I am some how a mere 6 inches away from his face. “Why haven’t you ever told me how you felt?”

“Because I was scared on how it would change our friendship”…. he had the exact same fear as I did. He was also afraid of losing one of his best friends. “If I tell you how I feel, you might think it’s weird or something” he whispers into my ear. “No I will understand, we have known each other our whole lives. How would it be weird?” I say softly.

He hesitates once again, and I can hear his heart start to pound. He closes the gap between us and rests his forehead on mine. “There is so much you don’t know” He breathes, still looking deep into my eyes. His words caused a flicker of anxiety inside of me. “There is so much I want to know about you, darling” I reassure.

“Well for starters I never thought this thing between us would become anything more than just friends” he confesses. It is hard for him to admit such things, but he has to show me that I matter more than he thinks. “It scares me, and I’m sorry that I let it go too far. I guess it’s because I’ve been waiting so long, and everything has changed so fast” he explained, he still had this worried look on his face like I were going to shut everything down. Everything had changed so fast.

“You have to stop worrying so much about me. You can trust me, okay? I’ll never judge or hate you or think any differently of you. All I want is for us to enjoy our first time together and enjoy each other. I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you are to me”. I caress his face with my hands.

A small smile graces his features while he gazes back into my eyes. I lean forward and capture him in a long passionate kiss. Our lips moving in sync, tasting each others taste as if it was our first time doing it. We pull away and stare at each other. He places both of his palms on either side of my face, leaning in even closer. I place my lips in line with his.

My fingers run through his soaked hair, though I don’t know if it use from sweat or from water. “Jakey, if I am going to be honest, I have been feeling the same way. On nights where we don’t sleep in the same bed, I find myself getting less sleep and craving your warmth. I don’t regret anything that’s happened between us tonight. Admittedly, I have been wanting to do that with you for so long” I started ranting.

“When you were making love to me I felt like I was floating away and it felt so good I just wanted to stay here forever, like nothing else mattered. There wasn’t anything I wanted more than to stay in this moment forever with you, but we both know that isn’t possible.” he continues, his voice cracking.

“Making love?” I chuckle. Such an interesting word choice. “Be quiet” he pushes back. “I’m just joking, but I agree”

He was clearly getting tired, letting out a yawn and fighting the force of his eyelids trying to close. “We should get to bed” I suggest. We soak the last few moments of the now comfortably hot water and get out of the tub. “You better not get water all over the floor, Jake” HE ALWAYS DOES THAT.

He grabs a towel for me and and one for himself and he wraps mine around my whole body width and pulls me for a hug. “I am glad we took a bath together sweetheart, try to get some rest” he whispers, and leaves an innocent kiss on my forehead.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next few weeks consisted of school, work, and sleeping in the same bed with Jake pretty much every single night. We would exchange passionate kisses and I would bathe him when he was too tired from work or hanging out with Jay. And he would do the same for me. We never went as far to have sex again. We weren’t scared but we felt like we should wait.

We are on our way back to Australia for fall break. Jake will finally get to see his parents and I will get to see mine. We get to have a whole week without having to worry about responsibilities. Which I know both of us desperately need. We touch down in Australia around maybe 3pm on the first Saturday of the break. We only brought carry on luggage for convenience and time.

“Have everything?” He questioned me as we were getting out of our seats. “I think so” I smile, so excited to see my parents. We arranged for Jake’s mom to pick us up from the airport. She had a large SUV able to fit all of our stuff comfortably. Once we passed through all of the security and customs, Jake calls her to see where she is parked. On speaker I hear her say “9 rows down from the south enterance” she explains. “Thanks mom, see you in a sec” Jake says about to hang up the phone. “Thank you Mrs Sim” I make sure she hears before he presses the red button.

We hurry to get out of the packed airport so meet up with his mom. The weather was cold and misty and it was hard to see. When we finally arrived outside the south enterance, we could hardly believe what we saw. Layla comes up running at full sprint in me and Jake’s direction. She jumped up onto bother of us, layering our faces and arms with slobbery licks and he tail wagging so hard it may as well had fallen off.

Once Layla was all calmed down we put our luggage into the trunk. We swing up the door and the vehicle seems oddly empty. “Where is dad?” Jake questioned his mom. “He is getting worse…. he wasn’t able to make it today, I had to take him back to the hospital last night” she explained. I could already see the heart break in his eyes. “Oh” We packed everything up and his mom offered for me to sit in the front seat. Honestly, I wanted to sit in the back seat and comfort Jake, so I made up the excuse that Layla should sit in the front.

The mood in the car ride home was off. I don’t know if it was from the weather or his fathers health but Jake was not as energetic as he was before. I know he doesn’t deserve everything happening to his dad so I will just try to support him through it.

~~~~~~~~~~

I never really gave it much thought, but the more I put the pieces together, I think maybe the reason Jake is so insistent on getting black out drunk with Jay on the weekends may have to do with his father.

Jake has never in his life had a healthy coping mechanism. I remember a lot through out grade school, he would feel guilty or take blame for things that were not his fault, just to mediate the situation. When he did this, he did not react to the discipline very well, but it seems like he would much rather face conveniences than to start an argument over the original problem.

Jake let a lot of people take advantage of him, and it is still something that we have to work on, but knowing the situation with his dad, I know he has a lot more things to worry about now that usual.

Many of the people excluding his parents are alcoholics, any family event we went to together, the main thing being passed around was a bottle. When we were younger, things made him build resentment towards them but the older we got, the more willing he was to try alcohol, only adding more and more each time until he is where he is at now.

Jay isn’t the type of friend to stop this behavior either. I will never understand why Jake is such good friends with him cause he never seems to have the best intentions or good interest in mind. I can’t be the one to tell him that they should stop being friends cause at the end of the day, Jake’s relationship with alcohol won’t be healed in a split second.

~~~~~~~~~~

Nothing really eventful happened over the span of the after noon, the rain put everything to a halt. I slept in the guest bed in Jake’s house for the first night but was unable to fall asleep for the majority of the night. Jake’s mom rushed into the room around 1:30 am.

“Hey are you awake? We have to go the hospital, it’s my husband. Please wake up Jake while I grab the keys” She said with an extremely shaken voice full of urgency. I shoot out of the bed and put my shorts back on and practically run down the hallway to Jake’s room. It is locked. I bang on the door frantically. “Jake! Jake get up now we have to go” I echo through the door. Quickly after he swings open his door with his shirt in his hand, in the middle of putting it on.

The SUV was already started when we got out the front door and we ran to get into the car and soon as we sat down she reversed and tried to explain. “He slipped into a coma. They said they are trying everything to get him to wake up but they have no idea why it happened because he was in decent shape before” she says with tears forming in her eyes.

I reach up to the front seat to scratch her shoulder to try and calm her. I don’t think there is anything someone can do in this situation to calm someone in this much distress down but I tried. She is going dangerously fast down the highway. I know that she has been working hard to keep them afloat and thing we’re starting to get better. After that I couldn’t stand to listen anymore and closed my eyes hoping that by some miracle she wouldn’t end up killing us.

After what seemed like hours we reached the hospital and were quickly taken to another private room where we could talk with him alone. Of course his dad wasn’t going to be able to say anything. But Jake still wanted him to listen. He took his fathers hand a caressed his palm with his fingers while he said what he needed to say. Once he was done, I gave Jake a hug as his red face were completely covered in tears.

“He will be okay, I promise” I reassured him. We walked out of the room to discover his mom sitting next to the window, face completely void of emotion. He hasn’t spoken a word since we have gotten here.

“You know…. he was really excited for you both to come back. He was practically counting down the days” she admitted, wiping a tear from here eye. “I was so excited with him” she added. Her words shatter my heart. How is she not screaming in anger right now. Angry at the world for doing this to her innocent husband. That was something I admired about her. She was always able to contain her emotions well, almost too well.

Seeing both her and Jake in this state was absolutely terrible. I knew it would only take a miracle to fix this given his dads condition. “It’ll all be okay, Jake, don’t cry” I assure him. “It won’t, how am I supposed to deal with this? How am I supposed to go back to school without seeing him, talking to him… it hurts” “There is still a chance that he will make it Jake, don’t give up on it. I know he wants you to wait for him”

He couldn’t say anything, all he could do was bury his face into my shoulder and sob. He tried to form words, but they were only choked noises which caused him to cry even harder. “Shh its okay, I am here” I assure him. Me, Jake and his mom spent the night in the hospital. His mom slept in the room with his dad and me and Jake slept in a guest waiting room. Well, I was the only one who was able to get some sleep. Jake was up all night worrying about his father. I could hear him crying as I were trying to fall asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks had passed and his fathers condition remained the same, and to be honest, Jake and his mom seemed like they kind of accepted that this was the way that things were going to be.

We were back at the house, his mom would just go to work and lock herself in her room until she had to go to work again and Jake and I were preparing to go back to Korea for the Winter semester.

Mrs Sim did not want to see us leave, and she made it very clear. We were her last hope with everything going on with her husband. I really wish me and Jake could stay back to support her but we have jobs and bills that we have to get back to, and life can’t just pause for us. We promised we would let her know how we are feeling, how much we missed each other and everything else that went along with saying goodbye.

We leave in 3 days, and we made it our mission to hang out with his mom as much as we could before we left. She hasn’t taken a break either… no time to her self she just has to keep working to pay for the house and the piling medical bills.

Those last few days, we took Mrs. Sim out for lunch at her favorite Thai restaurant. She seemed to genuinely smile for the first time in weeks as we joked and reminisced about times when all 4 of us were together. One night, we rented some classic movies she loved and made her favorite snacks. We cuddled up on the couch, enjoying the familiar feeling of just being together as a family again, if only briefly.

Jake and I helped around the house as much as we could - running errands, doing yard work, and cooking meals to give his mom a little respite. We made sure to soak in every moment because we didn't know when we'd all be together like that again.

~~~~~~~~~~

When it came time for our early morning departure back to Korea, Mrs. Sim took us both in for a tight hug, her eyes brimming with tears. "Take care of each other," she whispered hoarsely.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ Jake grabs our suitcases out of the trunk and his mom pulls me to the side.

“Please promise to take care of him for me. You have always been a safe place for him, I can only imagine how he has been feeling” she begged. I held bother of her hands in the palms of mine. “I promise, Mrs Sim, I will do everything in my power to take care of him, don’t worry. You have other things to worry about” I reassure her pulling her into a hug.

Layla climbs through the back of the car from the front seat and jumps out of the trunk to say good bye, jumping all over me and Jake just like when we first arrived. “Yes you’re such a good girl” he scruffs up her ears while giving her a kiss on the forehead. I gave Layla some belly rubs before his mom guided her back into the car.

“Please text me when you board, and call me when you land, I need to know that the two of you are safe.” said his mom. “Of course” we pulled her into one last hug. “I love you guys” she sobbed “I love you too” we said in unison as we walked towards to enterance, leaving his mom in the parking lot.

~~~~~~~~~~

The ride back home was hard for Jake. 10 hours of restlessness. The only time I saw Jake act kind of okay was at our layover in Manila. I tried to leave him be for most of the trip.

-

We landed at the airport in Seoul and made our way back through customs and immigration, I swear the process of getting out of the airport is more stressful than planing a trip itself. We load our things into my car, missing the excitement that Layla brought to the car ride.

Before we got into the car, Jake comes behind me and turns me around into a hug. “I am really worried about her… my parents have been together for so long I can’t imagine how she would react with out him” he cried into my arms. “Your mom is a strong woman, I know it. She has you and I know she will be able to get through it.” I rub his back and lay my head into the crook of his neck.

I walk him over to his door and open it, letting him get into is and rest, we still had a 45 minute drive back to our place. I just let him ‘rest’ his eyes the whole way and I sat in silence trying not to wake him. The ride was bumpy, or maybe I was more aware of my surroundings not given that Jake wasn’t talking my ear off the whole time. I don’t mean it as a bad thing but he does a great job at keeping me company in the car. But that element was absent this time.

We were outside of our house quicker than expected. Jake was still fast asleep, he looked up he most peaceful than I have seen him these past few weeks I really did not want to wake him up. “Jakey we’re here” I whisper and gently grip his shoulder. He groans. He untucks his arms from under his shirt and rubs his eyes, trying to adjust to the light.

We make way up to the door, he didn’t bother grabbing anything out of the car but I was completely okay with grabbing everything if it meant he would get some rest. As soon as we stepped in the door, he took off his shoes and hurried to his bedroom, he didn’t ever bother changing his clothes before plopping onto his bed in pure exhaustion.

I found myself following him to the bed and sitting on the edge and grazing his back with my fingernails. My hands made way up to his hair and I combed his strands with my fingers. He turns over to lay on his back and I sit and admire his beautiful face while his eyes are closed. So peaceful. I couldn’t fight the urge to lean down and give his a soft peck before heading back to the car.

He didn’t seem to mind, his lips were soft as they instantly melted into mine for a few seconds. He didn’t seem supprised or shocked at all. He made it feel natural. “Thank you” he said, barely audible. I leaned in for another kiss, a smile building on my face as our lips met. No verbal response was needed, my smile against his spoke for itself.

~~~~~~~~~~

We had gotten back into our normal work and school schedule following the break. I still was not seeing Jake as much as I would like and it seems like I was getting less and less information by the day on his dad, which worried me. I tried to call Mrs Sim every single day to check in and get updates, as well as update her on mine and Jake’s life. She treated me like a friend. Like a daughter. I am very thankful to be accepted by her in that way.

Jake was clearly getting more stressed with work and school and I couldn’t figure out a way to ease the stress for him, all I could do was hope that it wouldn’t end up being too much.

Mrs Sim told me briefly once while we were on a phone call that me and her call way more often that her and Jake do. Jake has always been a texter and his Mom simply had to deal with not hearing her baby boys voice as often as she would like, which is why it was weird when me and Jake were laying in my bed around 11pm and his phone starts ringing.

Both of us were on the verge of falling asleep and the light from his phone screen made the situation more uncomfortable. At first Jake just reached over and turned off the ringer.

“Hey did you even see who it was? What if it was important” I question his instinct to end the call. “Fine let me look” he groans.

He reached over and grabs his phone and looks at the screen ‘Mom’ is what it read. “Answer it!” I urged him. Jake was hesitant. I think he thought that this was going to be the call, which he has been preparing to avoid at all costs.

Instead of letting the line go to voicemail, I snatch the phone out of his hand and answer if myself. “Hello Mrs Sim, is everything alright?”

“I am so glad to hear your voice. Is Jake around? It is important. Put it on speaker” she said.

“You’re on speaker” I informed her.

“Jake, your father is home, I picked him up about an hour ago. The doctor said that septic shock caused him to go into the coma, and they were able to treat the infection and keep him steady with some blood and IV fluids. He woke up yesterday and has shown no signs of complication ever since. I will take him back in a few days for testing and a check up. They saved him Jake… They saved him.” His mother explained ecstatically, crying tears of happiness.

Jake’s face immediately lit up, with what I could see from the light of the phone screen. He instantly started crying.

“Baby I wish you were here right now. he misses you so much” he claimed.

Jake couldn’t even speak through his tears and his hitched breathing. “I love you so much mom, tell dad I love him and I will see him soon”

He sets the phone down and buries his face into my chest, letting out full on sobs. the toll that this situation has taken on his body physically and mentally was very obvious and I know he has been wanting good news.

~~~~~~~~~~

Weeks had passed and we came back to Australia for the Winter break. Jake was more excited than ever. When he saw his dad get out of the car at the airport, I had never see Jake run so fast in my life. Their hug seemed like it was out of a movie and he had been latched to his dad everyday since being back at his house.

His parents kind of picked up on me and Jake’s relationship, and didn’t question why I was wanting to sleep in Jake’s room and not the guest room any more.

We were laying there facing each other, admiring each others beauty in the dim moon light shining through the blinds.

“Tell me Jake, do you believe in fate?” I questioned lowly.

He looks somewhat startled. “Y’know, I have never really thought about that. After everything that has happened this year, I think I would say that I do” he confirmed, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

“Yeah I think I do too”