#almost written him bumping into a bookshelf....almost

[ressonancee]

I THINK WE MARRIED IN VEGAS

✷ You and Jeonghan have always been friends, and friends go on a trip together, right? And somehow friends always end up marrying in Las Vegas right? And somehow friends become roommates as well right? That all seems very normal when Yoon Jeonghan has a weird addiction to doing the dumbest things ever just for shock value.

✷ genre: comedy (?), angst, smut (minors don't interact)

✷ word count: 28.244

✷ featuring: Yoon Ttoram, Choi Seungcheol, Lee Seokmin, Kim Mingyu as the unnamed satan-spit roommate one night stand, and Xu Minghao as the gothic impasto painter guy. 

✷ thea’s note: hey y’all this is my longest fic yet so I’m weirdly proud. I had fun writing this and trying to figure out how to build this Jeonghan and yes I did rewatched the birth of Ttoram while writing this. By the way - love you guys but the whole credit/debt/buying a house is just for plot I do not know how any of this works in America (and it is mainly set in America because I needed Vegas lol) <3 So bear with it. Also thanks to @wongyuuu for keeping me company in this nanowimo challenge, and thaks to @toruro Mika you are the best <3 thank you for reading this 

✷ Smut warnings under the read more ✷

✷ smut count: lost count of how many times Jeonghan thought he was going to cum on his pant, 1 dick sucked, teenagers level of horniness, non penetrative sex still sex, a lot of kissing, a 3 second of cumplay still a cumplay i guess. 

"Should we do it?" you hear Jeonghan ask, his face focused on something outside the car’s window. The lights of all the neon signs dance on his face and features—like a scene from a movie. He looks tired and overworked even though you are somewhat on vacation.

"Do what?" you ask, trying to understand what he meant. Maybe he was talking about a hotel spa and you missed the beginning of the sentence because you were too lost in your own thoughts? Yeah, a message would be a lifesaver right now.

"That," he says, pointing at one of the hundreds of little chapels in Las Vegas. This one has a deal sign in big and bold letters—an Elvis Presley priest, a bouquet, a professional photographer, and a bottle of champagne for half the price. Well, you never thought about off-season in Vegas, but maybe business was a little rough at this time of the year, but to be quite honest that did seem like a great deal—the shopaholic in you would fall for it if it didn’t involve marriage.

"Are you drunk already?" you ask. Even though you have known the man for years, you still can’t read Jeonghan properly.

Sometimes you think about how he is a book that is written in a different language, and you couldn’t have access to him without a dictionary on the side. Jeonghan does look like a classic—he is well put together, he is fancy, and he would be one of those books that have an embellished spine—the prettiest book on your bookshelf. But at the same time, he is one of those books that need commentaries on every page because somehow the author didn't care about giving enough context or didn't think his work would survive so many years. And one that the storylines end up being totally fucked up, so basically a Russian classical.

"No, I'm painfully sober," Jeonghan says while leaning his head on the window of the car. It almost makes you laugh when you hear the loud sound of him bumping his head, even the Uber driver who didn’t utter a word turns his head back. "It's just," he starts again, "I heard Seungcheol talking about it, and it seems nice to be married."

"What are you talking about?” you say in disbelief,  “Seungcheol is not married yet, he is having a bachelor party in Vegas. He is drinking his weight in alcohol and spending the college tuition of his firstborn in the casino. You and him know about the same thing about marriage, which equals barely anything."

“Yeah but he did talk about all the perks—Oh thank you,” he notices that the Uber finally arrived at the hotel feat casino and all the Vegas shenanigans. Jeonghan holds the car door for you, like a true gentleman—you almost scoff. “What I was trying to say is, Seungcheol did talk to me about being married, it doesn’t feel like a bad deal at all.” Again, he holds the door for you.

“So we should just get married in Vegas because Seungcheol said it is a great deal?” you ask Jeonghan like he said the stupidest thing ever, which is partially true. It was one of the stupidest things he’d ever said to you, and you’ve known the man for years—you’ve witnessed a fair  amount of his stupidity, all laced with his all-knowing smile. Every time you tried to understand what he was talking about it always left you feeling like this man was insane.

“I mean? What would you lose?” Jeonghan asked, crossing his arms after pushing the elevator buttons—one for your room, the other one so the door closes faster (he is one of those people).

“A lot?” you say almost laughing. What the fuck? It resonates in your mind, almost like the words are bumping the walls of your cranium, like the old Windows 98 screensaver logo.

“Yeah? Like what?” Jeonghan asks and the ping of the elevator makes sure both of you know that it arrived before opening the door.

“Freedom,” you say, trying to stay normal and not succumb to Jeonghan—you both hear someone saying,“Hold!” across the hall. Jeonghan just smiles and clicks the button to close the door. Maniac really, without basic education. To be fair though, it was a frat dude with another frat dude who could wait for the next elevator without dying, but still.

“Come on, you are a book editor. You love everything that has nothing to do with freedom, you love rules and everything that shackles you.” You scoff hearing Jeonghan’s words.

You want to argue, you want to kick and scream and pick a fight because is he basically calling you boring right? He is totally calling you the most boring person he’s ever met, and you are in Vegas - and still, somehow, you are the boring girl. But he is right about it—you do not leave your comfort zone, you do not do crazy very well, and you don’t even drink that much because losing control of situations makes you slightly insane. And Jeonghan is right because he is one of your closest friends, and you talked about it with him, he even knows how this is a recurrent topic in your therapy. Asshole.

“Well, still don’t give me the urge to marry you, your sales points are awful—how do you hold your job?” You ask side eyeing your friend, well, if you wanted to marry someone calling them boring is not the right way to do it.

“I do a better job when I need to sell to investors, I’m not giving my all right now since you are not paying me,” Jeonghan says, leaving the elevator and looking back at you. Well, not giving your all when you are asking someone for marriage - number two mistake.

“I’d hope so, otherwise your name would be number one in the next layoff,” you say rolling your eyes.

“Come on,” Jeonghan scoffs. “You didn’t hear Seungcheol talking about the benefits," he says, opening the door to your shared hotel door. The deal was to sleep in a weird hotel that may have bedbugs or share a room and a bed with Jeonghan in a more upscale hotel whose bathroom didn’t look like a crime scene. Not a difficult decision, to be quite honest.

“Is Seungcheol now a pro-marriage coach?” you ask, taking off your shoes and leaving your bag on the nearest chair.

“Probably, I mean, the side money would be crazy,” he says, taking off his watch and leaning against the table, again crossing his arms. “What I meant is did you ever think about the tax deduction, health insurance benefits, leave benefits? Also, Seungcheol did remind me that the bank raises the chance of getting approved credits if the spouse has a great credit history.” 

“Yet he is the one marrying because he loves his girlfriend,” you remind Jeonghan, because apparently he is forgetting one the key ingredients of marriage in contemporary societies - love, affection, and a dose of “I love you but leaving with you every time you forget the toothpaste open is making me thinking about how life in hell would look like.”

“Right,” Jeonghan scoffs, making you even more curious.

“What would you need credits for?” you ask. Jeonghan is an unmarried and childless man, who works on investments, travels twice a year, and has a car. You on the other hand work in a crumbling industry - books, who reads books? - don’t travel a lot and your car is like twelve years old.

“Marry me and I tell you,” Jeonghan answered without letting the ball drop, quick on his feet like always, you could never catch this man.

“Tell me and I will think about it,” You try to pry.

“A house.” He says earnestly.

Again - you know Jeonghan, and you know your friend is a lunatic, but you also know when he is being completely honest with you. The man did want that house, which was completely weird. Jeonghan was a city guy, he was living in a rented apartment sure, but it was a great apartment, it even had a view. He worked downtown, why would he need a house?

“A house?” You try again, trying to get more details of what the heck is making your friend go crazy out of a sudden.

“Yeah, a house.” He says shrugging like it is the most common thing ever, maybe it is a well-known scheme of marrying for taxes and credits that you don’t know, maybe you are late. Maybe you are outdated putting together marriage and love in the same sentence, maybe, the world has changed. “Will you marry me?” Jeonghan asks you in his dullest voice ever like he is tired and completely bored.

“No.” You deadpan.

“Come on, at least pretend that you are thinking about it,” Jeonghan says, lying on the bed horizontally, his face is now closer to you and his legs are too big so they hang out of the bed, like a kid almost. “It has four bedrooms so you can move and say fuck you to Laurel the accountability girl.”

Well, that makes you think about it. He should have started with that. Maybe if he just proposed a new roommate scheme you would’ve said yes in the uber.

“I don't hate her that much,” you lied through your teeth, you hated that girl. You blamed the real state crisis because the rent was crazy, sharing the apartment was a good deal on paper, and half of the rent money went to your savings account so you could live in peace - Jeonghan actually advised you on how to save and where to invest if you wanted to retire quickly, but you never really thought about buying shares and selling shares and the whole ordeal.

“Fuck you,” He laughs, “every week I have to hear you complain how she lets food go bad and how it leaves your fridge stinky enough to make you almost puke, and that only happens when she doesn't food go bad on the kitchen counter or wait, do you remember when she forgets to lock the door two times last week?”

“Well, I am sorry if I have listened to true crimes podcast enough to be actually aware of the horrors of being a woman and how serial killers are out there just waiting for you to sleep with the fucking door open,” you say like you are the most reasonable person ever.

“And you are right, what I am saying is that I would lock the door so no one can enter the house, I would be a better roommate.”  

“Sure we do not have to marry to be roommates we can look for suitable places in our price range,”

“Look at this,” Yoon Jeonghan says, fiddling with his phone, “It has four bedrooms, three and a half bathrooms, the kitchen is great, it has a backyard and a solarium.”

“Fuck-”  You say, sitting on the bed, your thigh close enough to his arm that you feel the warmth of his skin, “that’s, that's crazy.” 

“I know,” he says turning on the bed and closing his hand on his stomach like he is dead, just staring at the ceiling, “The price is not bad either, one of my clients is trying to sell so he can invest in a new startup so it is not actually in the market right now but will be in a few weeks so-”

“Did you try to get the loan?”  You ask, finger still going on his phone looking at different pics of this completely perfect house. All the rooms were big, and with natural light - crazy. The Solarium looked like a thing out of this world. And you could see yourself living there, if you had enough money you could live the dream, but that house was just out of your price range. God, with that garden you could have a dog. Damn.

“I don't want to pay interest to a bank,” Jeonghan almost whines, because he knows how this whole thing works and how he would have to pay the loan and half of the loan because banks are greedy bastards.

“Can I have two bedrooms?”

“What do you need two bedrooms for?” Jeonghan asks, finally looking at you and dropping his i-am-almost-dead act.

“My room, one office,” you explain. You know the office would be the one with two larger windows facing the garden. Oh what a joy - to build a life you would never live, it was indeed one of your favorite hobbies, maybe that’s why you love books so much.

“Ok, I guess. I can make something out of the basement.” Jeonghan replies nonchalantly making you laugh.

Maybe that’s why you two were friends, you had a great time speaking nonsense to one another. You both just kept feeding into whatever fantasy you built, like reality could not touch everything. You and Jeonghan had this weird pattern of just sitting, eating and talking for hours and hours about whatever that had nothing to do with the truth. What would you do if you won the lottery? What would you do when you retire? What would you do if you woke up on a desert island? What would you do if your boss was imprisoned for embezzlement? Ok not the last one, scratch that, this one actually happened.

“I can give you 5% of the price tag, and we can share the loan if it matches my current rent price range, but we need to actually draft something with a lawyer later so we can only sell the house to ourselves, I don’t trust you enough to buy this house without a lawyer on my side.”

“Dude-” Jeonghan jerks on the bed, he sits and turns his body to face you. “Wait, do you hate Laurel that much?”

“Yoon Jeonghan, do you want a marriage to up your credit score or what? I paid my student loans in record time, the banks love me.” 

“I don’t know if you are joking or not,” He tells you. 

"Can you call room service?" You ask heading to the bathroom, while you tie your hair - like you are preparing yourself for a dire work task - maybe talk to a translator about a deadline, they are worse than writers, "I think we will need more alcohol." 

"Wait," you hear Jeonghan's voice echo through the door, "are we actually gonna do it?" 

You are joking. 

And you know Jeonghan was too. With the years of knowing him, you knew that the majority of things that left Jeonghan's mouth had a shock value purpose. Induce distress first, we talk about truth later - or never. That made you 100% sure that you would never marry that man. You knew him enough - twelve years, since high school. He knew you as well - he knew all your teenage traumas, all of your romance fiasco, and he met all of your exes. 

You would never, never, marry that man.

Right?

Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

When you open your eyes and the white ceiling greets you, you can hear yourself groaning almost involuntarily. Your head aches. You know you will regret everything that happened the night before, even though you don't know what actually happened, and what you need to hold yourself accountable for. But you know the taste of a life-changing hangover that has a side dish of regret and a cup of shame to go. But it couldn’t possibly be so bad right?

Ok, maybe moving your body was not the very first thing to do. You try to open your eyes again. Well, at least you were in your own hotel room. Jeonghan is by your side, his arm across your stomach and somehow his face is near your armpit. You try to sniffle yourself, but so far doesn't like you are actually stinky. Your deodorant was doing a great job so far, maybe it actually has a 24-hour action or something like that.

You try to lift yourself up, sitting in the bed, head in hand because everything spins. Oh God help you. Besides the headache you feel sticky and sweaty, and all gross. You can't believe you didn't shower, and if you didn't shower you didn't take your makeup off, and if you didn't take your makeup off you totally threw your 43-day steak of doing your skincare routine. Fuck. Maybe you could just delete the app, or pretend that yesterday never happened. Deal with the blank day that screams how bad you fucked up was not an option though, it would never happen.

“What the fuck did we drink?” You hear Jeonghan's hoarse voice. You take the hands off your eyes, the clarity feels like punching your cornea and brain, and Jeonghan's state is not very different from yours, his shirt is open and ruffled, his arms are shielding his eyes from the light entering the room, his hair is messy and he looks like he needed four days of sleep.

“Fuel? Petrol? Satan spit in a cup?” You answer dropping yourself on the bed again, every joint of your body aches. It is ridiculous how you feel trapped in a 90 years old body, and like that is not enough you feel nauseated beyond words. And every time you can feel and hear Jeonghan breathing it feels like it is piercing your skull, would be rude to ask your friend to stop breathing and just stay completely still? He would understand, right?

“Do you think room service can get us some painkillers?” He groans lifting himself up this time, “Or maybe a gun?”

“Can you call them? I think I will puke if I sit for more than half a minute,” you say, your hand going into your mouth as if it would actually help if the worst-case scenario happened.

“I think I can, the problem is that you need to get me the phone,” Jeonghan tells you groaning between words. His hand points to the object and there is no way in hell you are moving to get that, that would mean you getting up and turning and being alive altogether.

“I can't I told you I gonna puke,” you try to explain how serious your condition - also known as hangover - is.

“It is by your side of the bed" He groans again and yet he sounds just like a petulant child, maybe it is a gift.

“I can't I will puke on the carpet it only makes things worse,” you try again, “or worse I can puke on the bed, you included in the radio of the vomit you know it splashes.”

“Ok, stand still,” Jeonghan says, “don't kick me, I'm doing it for both of us”

And you do as you are told because being still right now is the only thing you can do - even moving your eyeballs seems too much right. So Jeonghan just dropped his body on top of yours, he is also sweaty, and he reeks of alcohol. Damn, he actually smells like gasoline. He picks up the phone and presses a few buttons. His body is still above yours, pressing into you.

“Be quick you are pressing my blade," you say after the surprise of having him against you fazes out.

“What the fuck do you need to pee or vomit? Ah yes, hello,” He says changing his voice in the middle of the sentence from something that says intimacy is a disease to his customer service voice without pausing, “hm do you guys have room service that includes painkillers?” He waits, nodding his head as he hears something before he remembers his on the telephone. “Oh okay, thank you, can you send it? Oh yeah great, yes if you can do that, yes, pancakes, toasts with poached eggs and avocado, coffee hmm” he thinks about it, looks at you, thinks about a second or two, and then adds, “Can you send us four cups of coffee? Thank you.”

Jeonghan finishes the call with a groan leaving his mouth, he places the phone on its holder. But when you think he will get himself off of you he only plops down, his body weight getting heavier. His bones poking your body, what the fuck he was doing with your elbow on your ribcage?

“Jeonghan what the fuck-" You complain, trying to kick your legs in a vain attempt to make your friend move.

“I got us painkillers and food, let me recharge for a bit stop complaining,” Jeonghan says in a dead tone of voice, almost like he is dealing with a kid throwing some type of tantrum - the only thing is that, in this occasion, the child is you and somehow you want to kick his shin, because you are the one right in this situation, and you could totally just plop down in a mall disgusting floor if Yoon Jeonghan was your father too.

“You are heavy!” You try again but somehow Jeonghan is stronger than you think and his body is still over yours like nothing is happening, maybe you are just dehydrated and fucking muscle-less, maybe the yoga wasn’t doing much when you almost killed your liver.

“I am not,” Jeonghan says, now he is the one being the moody child in the supermarket, maybe he will go off without parental supervision. Oh wait, this was Yoon Jeonghan he actually did wander away when he was out about with his parent and ended up three blocks away just because he saw an ice cream truck. Jeonghan was the easiest kid to be kidnapped, you ask yourself how he ended up being safe and sound, and in one piece.

“Just because you are skinny it doesn’t mean you aren’t heavy.” You try again pushing on Jeonghan bony shoulder, even that is pointy. “bones are heavy too, get off of me!”

“You kind of stink," Jeonghan says, his head still lodged in the space between your neck and shoulder.

“Well you asshole you are not better yourself, and you are stinky too and sticky like you showered in bear or something.”

“Maybe I did, I don’t know I can't actually think,” He groans finally trying to lift himself up, “We should shower,” he says sitting on the bed and looking down at you.

“You go first,” both of you say at the same time

You end up going first. Mainly because you needed to pee and you think that once you are up you may as well just use the opportunity to shower otherwise you would just drop dead on the floor and never get up again - you will be stinky and gross forever. Also, you think that if hell breaks loose and Jeonghan actually pukes you at least already used the shower. Back in college, he puked on the sink because it was the closest thing to the door, or whatever poor excuse he came up with, and that scene still haunts you, because somehow the sink was clogged. Ew, you think, finishing peeing and wiping yourself up. You wash your hands and say thank you for your past self because your necessaire is splayed on the counter, you pick up your face wash and head to the shower. Ok, let's deal with it. You need to wash your hair too. You open the register, letting the water hit your foot in an attempt to get just the perfect temperature.

You close and open the registers a few times - to fix the temperature, but you not gonna lie, to make up your mind too. But when you let the water hit your face - in an almost drowning attempt, you know you made the right decision, shower first was the only option. You let the water wash away for a few minutes until you are ready to really start your shower. First step - wash your face. Well, you needed to buy a new face wash this one was in its last few stages of life, you close your eyes and start to rub against your skin, normal, until you few something slightly different on your hand - almost like scratching the skin, you open your eyes and you finally notice, a band on your finger.

You turn your hand and it finally hits you.

It is a ring.

With a big rock.

In your ring finger.

A big damn rock on your ring finger.

“Yoon Jeonghan” you scream in horror.

On the other side of that door, Jeonghan just hears you scream. He actually picks himself up in record time and room towards the bathroom, oh shit did you just fall and hit your head? Did you break the glass of the fancy hotel shower? Are you dying? So without thinking much Jeonghan opens the bathroom door and he just finds you - completely naked and seemly okay, just staring at your own hand.

“What happened?” He asks trying to catch his own breath, maybe he does need to start working out man, he didn’t feel this horrible when he was hitting the gym after shifts, but also he didn’t feel that great either the whole gym rat thing was not his ordeal.

“What did we do?” You ask still in complete horror, not even thinking about how this is the first time Yoon Jeonghan, your friend is seeing you completely naked. 10/10 would not recommend this experience. Not even to Laurel, her satan spit roommate.

“What? Are you going crazy? I thought you fell and opened your skull or something,”

You just look at Jeonghan, dead in his eyes, like the reality is worse than falling in the bathroom, opening your skull and calling the paramedics naked. You just turn your hand to him - like it is enough to make him understand what a dire situation it is. And you swear to god you can almost see the little flakes of light on the bathroom floor, the rock is big enough to shine across the room.

“Did you call me to show me your ring? Couldn’t you wait until you put your clothes on?” Jeonghan asks leaning into the doorway.

“Jeonghan did we-” you say but you feel your own throat closing around itself, it can’t be right?

“Hm?” he asks without a blink of an eye.

“Oh we did, we totally did," you sighed, more to yourself than to Jeonghan.

“No, you are not that crazy,” he claimed. What is that even was supposed to mean? He was crazy enough for it but you the two goody shoes wasn’t?

“Jeonghan check your bank receipt,” you demanded, trying to connect the dots in a way, trying to find a physical proof, maybe you just bought a way too expensive ring for yourself, or maybe it was just impulse buying.

Before you can move Jeonghan almost runs towards the room, you try your best to keep up with him but you are a little behind because for the first time, you actually are aware of how naked you are. You pick up the fluffy bathroom robe - yeah the fancy hotel had its perks.

“Oh fuck” you can hear Jeonghan before you can see him, his phone it’s on his lap, his head is on his head - he is a man defeated.

“Did we?” You try to probe, but your voice sounds weird in your own ears - almost small, and the reality hits you, you are kinda scared. The reality of maybe having fucked up hits you like a trunk, you always been a nice girl, you never fucked up - at least not that bad, what would you mean if you married on a drunk whim?

“I think,” Jeonghan says, his hand on his greasy hair, fuck he needed a shower. “I think we fucked up real bad.”

You sit beside Jeonghan, you both staring at the wall ahead of you in disbelief. You are still gross, but now your damp hair is actually dropping on the bed and you can’t bring yourself to care. The fact that Jeonghan is motionless by your side without uttering a word is what freaks you out more. Jeonghan is not someone who is fazed so easily - his mouth is agape and his eyebrows furred, the ‘i-am-utterly-stressed’ Jeonghan feature is what freaks you out really.

“Ok Hannie,” you breathe softly. “That’s what we are going to do, I am going to shower, then you are going to shower, we gonna eat breakfast, then we are going to return this ring, then we are going to call Joshua, he is a lawyer, right? He probably will know what to do.”

“Joshua is a real estate lawyer,” Jeonghan mutters without blinking.

“Jeonghan focus!” You say getting out of bed, “divorce is a thing we don’t need to stay married.”

You take one of the longest showers in human history. You needed a good shower, but, the majority of the time under the shower you think about how the hell you got so drunk to marry Jeonghan. Some flashes of memory blink on the forefront of your mind every time you blink; a vegas chapel, not an Elvis but an Elton John in front of you, Jeonghan picking one of the most expensive ring in a fancy story. How the fuck fancy jewelry runs for twenty four hours?

Every flash comes with a sharp pain, the fucking headache.

When you get out of the bathroom the breakfast is already in the room. You take a bit of egg and toast just so you can shove coffee down your throat without having to deal with the stomach pain. You search the ring case and don’t find anywhere, maybe it is safe on Jeonghan’s thing, maybe he kept it safe, or you hope so. When you sit on the bed you stare down the ring, it is a beautiful ring and you are pretty sure it is something Jeonghan chose, it is beautiful, but at the same time, it is just too much.

You need to return it, no doubt about it.

You try to take the ring one and somehow it doesn’t even budge. You scoff, what a tricky little thing. So you try again, and again the thing doesn’t move. You can feel the drop in your blood pressure, what the heck? You lost track of the time when Jeonghan opened the bathroom door and you looked at him in shock, you look down at your red and bloated finger.

“This shit is stuck in my finger?” You say trying to take off one final time before just breaking your finger.

“Well, I think this is a good time to tell you,” he starts his voice all weird and over the place, “I kinda fucked up.”

“Jeonghan we are apparently married I already know we fucked everything up.”

“No, I-” Jeonghan begins, his hands now going through his washed hair, still wet and dripping on the floor, “I found a shred receipt and an invoice.”

“What the fuck?” You almost yell in pure knee-jerk reaction.

“I think it is yours now?” Jeonghan shrugs, like it is not a big deal even though you know that this ring is expensive, it must be, it has a giant rock and even though you know close to nothing about jewelry it looks expensive.

“What happened to us?” You question.

“You ask me? You don't remember anything?" Jeonghan says sincerely, and you know it is true. Jeonghan was kind of a prankster, he kinda did push people to its limit, but part of it was just doing fun things but also harmless shit. Like entering the beach at night, or hiding someone’s phone and pretending they did leave in the hotel so they can enjoy the trip without being bombarded by their special someone - read Seungcheol yesterday at lunch.

“Can we call Joshua?”

“I think we can do that later,” Jeonghan checks his watch, “I think it would be wiser just to show up to Seungcheol’s lunch and pretend that mini golf is fun, it would bring suspicious otherwise.”

“Jeonghan we married we didn’t commit a crime,” you say looking at him in disbelief.

“Do you want to deal with Seungcheol’s monologue about us getting married? I don’t think I want to deal with that with a killer hangover after a wedding walk of shame in fucking Las Vegas,” he drops. And God, that really sounds like a nightmare.

“Yeah,” you say looking at the big rock on your thing, “you are right, but we should probably still call Joshua,”

“I told you he is a real state lawyer didn’t I?” He says almost rudely to you, and you want to say that if you two are married both of you said yes it is not like you are the only one responsible for it but you try not to push his buttons.

“And what is your option Jeonghan?”

“I’m thinking about just getting drunk again so I can forget everything that is happening right now.”

What a fucking great idea.

Seungcheol is one of Jeonghan’s closest friends from college. Seungcheol just became your friend because you and Jeonghan were weirdly bound at the hip. You both shared your high school years, and when you two enrolled at the same university you only had two options, pretend you two didn’t know each other, or become conjoined twins. Jeonghan was a business major, you were enrolled in every class that had literature, poetry, or the name of a dead guy on it. But still, you and Seungcheol became great friends even though he is a finance guy. And Seungcheol was the reason you two were on a Vegas trip, the last trip of his life as an unmarried man, he had to make a sketchy deal with his fiancé in order to it to happen but still, according to him, it was worthy.

“Nice shot!” You hear Seungcheol's voice loud, bringing you back to reality. He is clapping as Seokmin - one of his other friends from work hits the ball down the hole.

Seungcheol’s voice, loud and clear, brings you back to reality.

Oh the joys of playing mini golf before lunch, you could spend days and days talking about how much you loved the idea and how every hole seems like a fucking nightmare but you are a married woman. Needless to say this whole situation wasn’t in your 2023 bingo card. You don’t pay attention when it is Jeonghan or Seungcheol’s turn, you wait until you have to put the ball in the hole, it probably takes you double the time, and then it starts again, ad infinitum. At least they are kind enough to not pressure you to perform like Tiger Woods or something.

You think about Jeonghan though. Somehow, he hasn’t changed. Jeonghan was the same Jeonghan you met in high school, of course, he matured and the years turned into baggage, but Jeonghan was still your friend who was playful enough to get married on a whim. Jeonghan was everything you weren’t in a way, somewhat playful and carefree, and still a very practical human being. Jeonghan was mischievous, but yet, not even once, he pushed you until you couldn’t take it, and that makes you think that somehow, with an unknown reason, in your drunk stupor, you wanted to marry Jeonghan, because hell can break loose, the skies can fall, but Jeonghan would never make you do something you did not want to do.

While Jeonghan and Seungcheol are busy hitting those tiny balls Seokmin stops by your side. You like Seokmin, Seokmin is kind, and you constantly think about how he is surviving the finance world, he doesn’t seem cut to it, but somehow he manages to stay alive against the monsters of capitalism, or, worse, he stays alive feed the monsters of capitalism. Ew. Seokmin’s face though seems focused on another thing, he looks in shock and happy at the same time, he probably did the whole hole in less than three shots you think.

“Oh my god,” He almost screams making you jolt in place, in all truth that was pretty much a common occurrence when your day to day involved Seokmin.

“Hm?” You question puzzled, looking at him trying to find a clue of something behind his feature when Jeonghan and Seungcheol finally join the two of you on the sideline.

“What is that?” Seokmin asks and you still without a fucking clue of what he is talking about. “Damn,” he says with his big smile across his face, making the tip of his nose get even more pronounced, “are you guys planning a surprise and I just ruined it?” His face changes in a blink of an eye.

“What surprise?” Jeonghan questions taking a drink of his gatorade like he was in the middle of an excruciating sport and not fucking mini golf after an unsafe amount of alcohol.

“That thing!” Seokmin cheered, and then it downs on you - the big ass ring on your hand, propped on the golf putter, and before you can hide it or chop your hand off the three man in your sight is eying the big damn rock that you forgot about,

“The what?” Seungcheol blurted.

“This is an engagement ring right?” Seokmin asks and you think about an ostrich, putting its head on the ground, you think you can do the same in one of the circuit's holes.

“No, it isn’t, how the hell they are engaged when they aren’t dating?” Seungcheol scoffs, acting like Seokmin is saying something that doesn't make sense, something that happened numerous times before, it could be happening again. It was happening again, at least to Seungcheol.

“We saw that one when we were looking for your fiancée present though,” Seokmin says all pouty and confused, and you think you almost try to defend his point of view as you always do, just because he is cute.

“It isn’t an engagement right?” Seungcheol asks

“It would be weird to be an engagement ring,” Jeonghan acknowledged the absurdity that envelopes the situation that you two are in, you want to try to take off the ring and just throw it across the field of mini golf, but a) it looked extra expensive, b) the three guys didn't even blink looking at your hand.

“Did you buy for aesthetic proposal?” Seokmin asks, "A girl that works with the human resources team did buy one just because she thought it was pretty."

“Of course,” Seungcheol claps, “I mean fashion was never your strong suit,” He says and it almost feels like a jab, “I almost brought that one, Jeonghan was dead set on this, saying it was the ring, but it was a bit on the expensive side”

“How expensive are we talking about?” You try to pry your body from reacting physically to the fact that Jeonghan shredded a fucking invoice and receipt, and the fact that even Seungcheol - the guy who buys twelves tumblers just because it was cute and ends up giving them away finds that expensive sets a new parameter of money waste.

“You didn’t check the price?" Seokmin asks, when you remain silent he continues, “Wow be you must be nice, balling and shit."

“How expensive are we talking about Seungcheol?” You try again, "Seokmin?" If you can’t return this damn thing at least you can try to sell it later. If you can’t find someone who can buy this you can sell for those weird and sketchy stores but you need to know how much you are actually losing on the deal, well, not you, Jeonghan but still, if you know the man he will just accept his fate and never move a muscle to deal with this ring situation.

“You really didn't check the price hun?” Seungcheol questions raising his eyebrow, like he always did when he couldn’t quite believe in you and it always made you feel angry with him. It was a tale almost, even when you were telling the truth he always raised that eyebrow questioning you, making you explain yourself.

“I brought the ring,” Jeonghan says nonchalantly like he is saying that he brought the bread on his way home. Jeonghan had this thing, a completely loath to let other people know his truest feelings. Even if he was one step away from a panic attack he would not tell you.

“Why would you do that?” Seungcheol asks again his voice is two tones higher, and you feel like he is questioning the two of you, and in his own mind he is the bad cop in the situation - Seungcheol liked that type of shit, and you think that maybe he is so into that because Jeonghan is his polar opposite, never giving Seungcheol a reaction.

“I told you I thought it was a beautiful ring man,” Jeonghan deadpans and take his fingers to move his bangs out of his eyes - making him look like a fucking prick, looking down at everyone else, and you know that just tickles something in Seungcheol. “What I am trying to say,” Jeonghan tries again, “is that the ring It is not an engagement ring because I didn’t ask her to marry me yet,” Jeonghan says walking by your side and enveloping your shoulder in an awkward hug. “I just confessed my feelings, it might be over the top a bit but you guys know I just had my eye on the ring.”

“Dude! Finally!” Seokmin says hugging Jeonghan, and you almost feel yourself choking on air.

When Jeonghan is free he whispers against your ear, his breath on your skin making you shrink, “Just bear with it.”

“What?” Seungcheol asks “Out of nowhere, you confessed your feelings? With an engagement ring?”

“Not an engagement ring Seungcheol we won't crash your wedding, relax,” Jeonghan says again, rolling his eyes.

“How much it was?” You try again dead set on finding out how much that was, apparently a new hyper-fixation.

“Babe,” Jeonghan says looking at you with a mischievous smile across his face, “it is not polite to talk about the price tag”

“What the hell I am watching right now?” Seungcheol bristled, more in anger than in frustration.

“It was long overdue really,” Seokmin gushed, in a terrible contrast to Seungcheol’s features, his voice is loud and his big smile stretches across his face, “I thought it was so fucking weird you two sharing a hotel room with the excuse of saving money, like we know Jeonghan has money,” Seokmin points to the ring, making your skin crawl.

“We are returning this,” you tell Jeonghan, your voice low while elbowing his ribs.

“Baby I told you,” Jeonghan appealed, grabbing your shoulder “We can’t do that”

“Like I personally found you guys always so weird like, I think I even asked Seungcheol if you guys were married in the past because you guys are really,” he moves his hands in a weird move in a way to mean how close you always had been, “like truly crazy and then I asked Seungcheol and he was like it is never gonna happen and I was like-"

And Seokmin goes on for about a good five minutes about how he thought the two of you were a couple, and in a way, you were so used to it that it didn't even startle you. The problem was that Seokmin truly believed Jeonghan’s lies, one thing was to think that you two were in a relationship - everyone had this basic reaction since the two were in college, even one of Jeonghan’s ex-girlfriend thought of, one of your coworkers too, Jeonghan’s door to door neighbors too, almost every single soul you two met. That alone was something you began to understand, yeah you and Jeonghan had a weird level of intimacy.

 If you mash together your college years you can sum up in - of course, we do not date, of course, you can go ahead and kiss him in this horrible pub, oh yeas I am living in his dorm at ungodly hours just because we decided to binge watch a docuseries, oh if I am wearing Jeonghan's clothes? Haha He saved my ass because I doped the coffee on my clothes - ps. The coffee didn't exist, and his girlfriend did break things up a week later, Jeonghan swore it wasn't because of you. Once one guy broke up with you because when he smelled you he could recognize Jeonghan's smell on you, Jeonghan toke as his duty to just fuck up with that guy's mind for a whole month. He told you over and over again that the guy was wrong and basically called you a cheater, so you might as well plant enough evidence to give them the mental image - Jeonghan planted underwear on said guy's returning box, a note with his own handwriting with meet me in secret at the library, and even brought you a small dog plushie to put in the box and when you asked why he said 'he will think another guy gave you a present'.

Knowing Jeonghan and the fact that he loved shocking people this whole act today didn't really shock you, in the end, you were the only that understand Jeonghan, because you would never ever fall for this weird ass act. Your default reaction to anything Jeonghan related was a fair amount of mistrust.

“What are you two doing?” Seungcheol asks again, his voice is laced with suspicion and mistrust.

“Doing what?” Jeonghan asks, his hand going to your hair and placing it behind your ear.

“Whatever you guys are doing,” Seungcheol says pointing his fingers at the both of you, and you think it is dumb to even pretend something to Seungcheol, he knows you, he knows Jeonghan he knows nothing like that would even happen and you still don't know why Jeonghan is even trying to lie to him. 

“Jeonghan-” you whine, marrying in Vegas is indeed something that brings you shame and regret but lying to your friends is even worse, how would you deal with that later?

You think you would prefer listening to Seungcheol’s monologue about how both of you are completely crazy, unreasonable, and unreliable, all of that rings true now. And it was Seungcheol, he would end up knowing somehow, even if you didn’t tell him now, you both would end up telling him. This whole scheme would fall like a house of cards somehow. You couldn't knock on Seungcheol door and say haha we were kidding, but Jeonghan could, you would make him do it.

“Seungcheol that’s actually-”

“What are we supposed to believe that after what? A decade you just woke up brought a ring and confessed your feelings?” Seungcheol asks, raising his voice enough to make you look around the damn mini golf to see if anyone is insane enough to care about this damn scene, “When you are a commitment phobe who has been on my ass for the past several months?”

“Look man, can you just drop it?” Jeonghan asks again - in the same aloof way he uses when he wants to piss you off, almost like he is flirting with the idea of being a patronizing prick. 

“Of course not, what the hell,” Seungcheol says, his tone still on the angrier side  “You didn’t even remotely tell us about this."

“Yeah well some people can actually keep secret,” Jeonghan says bitterly.

“What was that supposed to mean?” Seungcheol questions and just by the tone of his voice you know that shit is going down, you have seen countless fights between the two to know that Seungcheol was on the edge.

“It means that I can actually keep my individuality as a human being because I don’t have a crazy girlfriend who has trust issues so I need to overshare everyone’s personal life because she thinks you can cheat on her every monday to friday man,” Jeonghan quipped. He was not the one who loved to fight, Jeonghan was actually someone who would just shrug and resolve the situation later when it came back to bite his ass, but damn when he wanted to fight he was ready for it.

“Damn,” Seokmin breathed.

“What the fuck Jeonghan,” You and Seungcheol say at the same time, both in disbelief.

“It is the truth, isn't it?” Jeonghan chastised, “Dude you are traveling with friends and somehow the whole lunch was about how your girlfriend was pissed that you actually brought a ring to placate how angry she was."

“Jeonghan stop talking.” you plead, holding his arms trying to get his attention, to make him stop before things end up in a point of no return. 

“Why?” Jeonghan asks you this time, eyes focused on you and not Seungcheol.

“Because you are being a fucking asshole now,” you say “This is Seungcheol bachelor’s party the man is getting married,” you try again like Seungcheol is not in the room.

“Oh you think I don’t know about that?" He says exasperated, "We are in Vegas and this motherfucker drink one beer and told us to go to our own hotel yesterday so we needed to get drunk and-”

“Jeonghan,” you say again almost like a kid tugging Jeonghan's by his shirt sleeve.

“We are in fucking Vegas and we didn’t visit one strip club and we are playing mini golf that something off about this whole trip,” Jeonghan says loudly chuckling at his own words.

“Are you seriously right now? You are going on a tirade against your friend because he doesn’t take you to strip clubs?” It is your time to act in disbelief - strip club? Seriously?

“Maybe if we were at a strip club yesterday,” Jeonghan says eying you.

“You know what?” Seungcheol speaks up. “Fuck you, you are uninvited by the way, you go on and on about how you don’t think I should marry, well, then you don’t need to show up.”

You and Jeonghan are left side by side on the mini golf field. Standing there while the world still moving around. You want to break out in laughter, you want to just laugh at how the two of your friends seem to wake up on the wrong foot, you want to knock Jeonghan's head off his shoulder, but you end up just walking to return to the damn golf club. 

The whole way to the hotel you and Jeonghan spend in complete silence, not one uttering a single word.

And apparently - now you are the one that wants to start a fight out of nowhere. You are the one that wants to scream about how Jeonghan was being an unreasonable asshole. You try to wrap your head around his reasons, about why he would act like that and nothing that comes up in your own brain seems right.

So when you both are back in the hotel room - now with new sheets thank god, and less alcohol smell you just ask in the most nonsubtle way you can, you hold your own waist and ask like he was a teenager throwing a rude tantrum, “What was that?”

“What?” Jeonghan asks taking his time to take off his jewelry, watch the first thing, and later necklace, if he had any bracelet would be the third step of his routine.

“The whole Seungcheol marriage thing?”

“Well, you don’t have to deal with him drunk every Friday night telling you how overwhelmed and how he feels trapped since they set the wedding date,” Jeonghan says shrugging. 

“You told me he was going on and on about how great marriage is,” you say sitting on the bed, trying to understand all the things you apparently didn't know about Jeonghan and Seungcheol.

“Yeah, he has his own list of cons in his note app," Jeonghan huffs, "every time he thinks about calling it off, I think I just memorized it because he reads more than once a day”

“Fuck,” you say in a breath. In your own mind, Seungcheol not even once doubted his choice to get married, not even once seemed unsure of his decision.

“I was the one that said Vegas," Jeonghan says sitting on your side, both of you looking at the widow that faces a fucking parking lot, "I thought that he would get drunk enough to actually mess everything up because he can’t do sober, and by mess everything up I mean breaking up with his crazy girlfriend."

“Yeah, still, you didn’t need to be a fucking asshole,” you say seriously this time trying to face him.

“Well, I panicked ok?" Jeonghan finally breaks, "I wasn’t going to tell that man who is having a daily mental breakdown that we married in fucking Vegas.”

“I mean, I don't know about you but I think your friendship with Seungcheol is more important than being lectured because you married in Vegas, Hannie,” you tell him softly, patting his thigh.

“Well,” Jeonghan says, letting his hand on top of yours, “I guess I can't be gracious always,” he says with a sad smile.

“I know you are stressed out," You say calmly, "but you lashed out at Seungcheol and it wasn't great,”

“The fuck you are defending him for?” Jeonghan says standing up and pretending he is searching for something in that damn room.

“Are you serious?”

“What?" Jeonghan chuckles, "he can go on and on about how I am a commitment-phobe type of guy who is fucked up enough to not have a fiancée like him and it is all good and fun and games? But when I call out his fucking weird relationship I am the bad guy?”

“Jeonghan,” You try but before you can even finish he cuts you.

“No, don't Jeonghan me, the fuck,” he retorted, “you have the excuse of not knowing because I don't tell you, you could think I am an asshole and a horrible boyfriend because every time someone breaks up with me even though I am a great catch,” he laughs bitterly, “You can do that, Seungcheol can't do that, he doesn't have an excuse, he knows why.”

“I never ever think about you like that,” you say sincerely because it is the truth, never once have you thought about Jeonghan being afraid of commitment or being a shit asshole. You always thought about how every girlfriend of his always looked and sounded more in love with him than the other way around, but that wasn't exactly a character flaw.

“I know,” he says already sounding exhausted.

“No I don't think you do,” you say sternly, “like it never crossed my mind really, I always thought about how they were crazy for letting you go, so what you don't want to marry someone? the fuck you can still have a great life and a great relationship with someone without a ring, and I know you are capable of it," and to your own ears you sound almost bitter, how they could be so dumb? To have a chance to have Jeonghan and let him go? “You have always been there for me, you never once wavered, I have no reason to ever think of you in that light and I don't think Seungcheol is being fair, he wasn't, but he is getting married in three weeks Han.”

“Yeah and I am telling him his girlfriend has been a freak since week two when she threw a fit because she was jealous of you,” Jeonghan says shocking you, "because according to her own crazy brain, you are way too close to men so who knows what you will do when she turns her back."

“Of me?” You say pointing at yourself, “Damn, she is crazy."

“That’s what I am trying to tell him, and he isn't fuck listening I guess.”

The whole afternoon you think about Jeonghan.

You think about him when he is lying in the bed on his cellphone, and you continuously think about him when you find him napping in the same bed. You think about everything you don't know about your friend, and you think about everything he doesn’t share with you, that he chooses not to. And you know every single human has secrets, and there are things Jeonghan doesn't know about you too. But knowing that it is one thing, dealing with the emotions that come with it is another thing altogether. Why he would not tell you? Why he would tell Seungcheol?

Those questions live in your brain, rattling and making sounds every time they crash against your skull. You think about your friendship as well. Jeonghan was always there for you. He was there when you had your first heartbreak in the third year of high school, he was there when Mark broke up with you in college, and he was there every step of the way. He was there when you were sick, he was there when your favorite auntie died, he was there when you were panicking before your first job interview, he was there. You just couldn't wrap your mind around the fact that someone would call a man like that a commitment phobe or break up with him.

And what he said was true in some way, Jeonghan never broke up with anyone, he was always the one who was dumped and weirdly okay with it. Every time you talked about someone who didn't know Jeonghan you always painted him as the perfect guy, and it was true - he had a great job and his bank account was crazy even though he worked to the capital devil, he was someone who ha they shit together too, he helped his parent, he helped his friend, his house was never messy.

Every time you broke up with someone you talked about how you wanted a guy just like Jeonghan, nice and fun, but also low maintenance in a way, someone you could just comfortable be being with, without having to try too hard and do too much. And every time you met someone new, you always trusted Jeonghan's opinion, if he vetoed someone he had his reasons, like the weird guy that two months later was on the news because he emptied someone's bank account because they let their bank account info saved on the computer or something like that.

If you thought about it - really being married to Jeonghan was not even close to the worst thing that happened to you. Founding a dead rat once in the subway was worse, or that time when you found out that your roommate left the door open for weeks before you just never went to sleep before her just so you could make sure to close the door, and 95% of the time she didn't close the fucking door, that was worse than being married to Jeonghan.

“The fuck?” Jeonghan groans.

“What?”

“Apparently I messaged my account manager our marriage certificate asking if he could officialize the house-buying proposal, and apparently the bank green flaged it? The owner needs to accept the proposal of course, and it may take a while but-" Jeonghan stops halfway, almost like zooming out, staring at the wall ahead of him.

“I guess you are soon to be a house owner?” You question bringing Jeonghan back to reality.

“No, no-"

“Seriously if it is something that is helping you I don't mind, we can come back to Vegas a few weeks after the deal to annul it I looked up online it is not that hard we just need the documentation and the wedding certificate so," and it was true - you did research how to deal with the whole thing, it seemed easy, maybe that's why they actually let people marry crazy drunk, so they can pay to annul it and the city double the revenue, apparently crazy amount of drinking and casinos were not paying the bill.

“About that,” Jeonghan says, his hands tugging the sides of his hair.

“About what?” You ask.

"The wedding certificate,” he says, finally looking at you, his eyes big and still puffy because of his nap, “I think, I mean- I am pretty sure it is shredded with the receipt and invoice."

“What the fuck Jeonghan?” You shout, oh man, you are going to kill this man. The image is already on your head - jumping on that very same bed like a crazy woman and kicking him before you just kill him with your bare hands.

“I know,” he says almost in a grunt, laying down like a starfish.

“Why did you shred everything up for god's sake," you say almost stopping on the floor.

“I don't know okay?" Jeonghan says, sitting on the bed now, his cellphone forgotten, "Why did we marry? Can you answer that?”

“OOh," you huff, "We did get married, but I am soon to be a window if I don't kill in the next five minutes I swear to god”

“Wait, what changed if it is helping me?” Jeonghan says, back to his mischievous self, with a small smile across his face almost finding endearing the way that you try to threaten his life.

“You are making everything argh-” You are losing your damn mind and if you end up crazy it is Jeonghan's fault, now that he is indeed your husband has another tingle to you like a thriller movie, but you are afraid you are in your own Cameron Diaz Ashton Kutcher low budget 00's movie. Maybe you should take the whole thriller movie, it seems, weirdly, less weird. "First we cannot return this ring now I have to find someone who wants to buy it without documentation so everyone will think this shit is totally fake, I mean I would too, don't get me wrong I wouldn't trust myself either with this jewelry," you go off - almost missing the point, rambling really, before you get back to the point, "now we need to find a second copy of this certificate I swear to god we could just go to the nearest courtroom and annul the wedding I googled it." 

"I already told you you can keep the ring," Jeonghan says - voice low in contrast to your high-pitched complaints.

"Why would I keep this ring Jeonghan?" You question, it sounds weird in your own ears.

The truth is, you did love the ring, it is a beautiful ring but the truth is - you can't keep it. It shouldn't be yours to keep. It should go to someone Jeonghan wants to actually marry, even though you can't bring yourself to take it off your finger, even though you didn't even try to take it off after this morning.

And a breath almost gets locked in your throat. Why? You think, and deep down you know you have your answer but you just shove everything down when you hear Jeonghan's voice, "Well If you sell it I won't take the money."

"I can just pour it into my savings accounts," you say petulantly.

"The fuck," Jeonghan bites back.

"What? You said you didn't want it so I can keep the money," You try your best to sound even close to someone somewhat rational in this matter.

"It is a present you can't sell a present," Jeonghan though, never has a problem looking like he is saying the most rational thing ever even when it doesn't make any sense.

"I totally can," you bite back trying to hold your ground just out of pure spite. He didn't accept that cursed ring which is not even supposed to be yours why the hell he is making such a big deal of you selling or throwing it in the sea?

"You can't," Jeonghan says again, and you think back to your friendship and a lot of times it was like that - a lot of things without proper explanations.

"Why not?" So you just hold your ground - again, he will not win this one, this time he will have to explain.

"Because it is a present I picked up for you. I actually thought about it, I mean before drinking buying apparently, but I thought it would suit you" Jeonghan says, "Just don't sell, if you don't want to use it okay fine but just, just don't sell it, don't hurt a man's pride like that,"

You want to try again - to say you will sell this damn ring if you go to the store and it can't be returned, and you want to say you will throw it on the nearest river because Las Vegas is indeed very far from the sea. You want to push him until he says okay I take the damn ring and I will hold onto it and pass it through generations. But when Jeonghan speaks and he sounds so tired and so hurt you just give up and lock yourself in the bathroom pretending to take a shower before leaving this hellhole of a place.

You look at yourself in the mirror and ask yourself how the hell everything happened in such a short amount of time. A marriage, a fight, a ring that makes you go crazy. Maybe you are closer to having a breakdown, maybe it is the time to face things that you are trying to keep hidden under the rug. You think that maybe it is time to just downpour everything.

But like always, you don't. You bottle everything up and pretend that everything is fine.

The last few days in Vegas have been less eventful, thanks God. Jeonghan and you go to weird restaurants and for a walk around the town, and you think about how you got married in the city of Sins.

At least it is fitting to think that pride and wrath have something to do with your own stay in this city.

You often think about Seungcheol, sending him and Seokmin a message or two, or a total of 15. Seokmin answers you, Seungcheol doesn't. And you need to hold yourself back when you type down a fuck you but don't send. You try to pry on Jeonghan's end too, but after the third time that he just doesn't answer you with words but just a cold stare you just let it go. Maybe that's why Seungcheol and Jeonghan have been friends for so long - pieces of the same cloth.

The flight back is not that tricky but at the same time when Jeonghan drops you out at your door, you are ready for a 30 minutes shower and drop dead for a whole week. When you open the door you are glad that your roommate at least remembered to close and lock the door. Character development you think, maybe she is getting better, maybe you don't need to actually move into Jeonghan's house as a safety precaution. But something doesn't seem quite right - there is a new sofa in the living room, which isn't exactly a problem, really, your sofa kinda sucked. But when you look again, you understand what is missing.

No, she didn't, she would not be that crazy. You refuse to believe that. You left all your luggage in the middle of the living room and ran to your bed, maybe she put the side table there, of course, maybe she just moved because the new sofa seems bigger. But there is nothing that resembles the side table in your room, so you try again - her room now, still nothing.

You send a message.

You try to call.

So you try the next best thing - call Jeonghan so he can calm you down. He doesn't pick up.  You sit on the floor, right beside your luggage, and you refuse to sit down on that sofa, it is pretty it seems comfortable but now is the object that you hate the most. You would prefer, I don't know, to take part in a scientific experiment that might fuck up your brain function than sit down on that thing.

The concept of time and space is a funny thing you think when you lose count of how many minutes or hours you have been staring at the door, it has been probably a long time. Until your roommate opens the door with a big guy by her side, great, all that you needed was an audience for your lash out.

"Oh," she says, big guy with his big hands on her hips and he knows he is not getting laid today, because he sees you and he gets so upright he seems like a fucking power pole, "I didn't know you would be back today."

"Laurel, darling, where is my side table?" You ask without beating around the bush.

"Oh right," she says letting her keys on the counter without fucking locking the door you have never been closer to a have a fucking stroke, you can feel your blood pressure rising, "the sofa was a bit bigger, you know I told you I was thinking about changing and this was on discount, but the table didn't really had a place in the room anymore so I put on marketplace a cute girl come up to pick in the same day, great right?"

You blink once, twice, and the words don't even come, you are so astonished that you are left speechless. Maybe you could get over the unsaid desire of getting murdered by a serial killer, and maybe you could get over the leftover food on the counter, and you could even get over the whole singing in the shower when you are fucking tone-deaf really.

But that. That was one thing you could never get over.

"Are you fucking insane? Are you fucking crazy?" You ask, the big guy taking a step back, "Or do you just have fun being the most self-centered bitch in this part of the country?"

"What the fuck?" She says, and oh god, you want to jump on her bones, you want to leave this woman bald.

"Did you ask Laurel?" You ask again, remaining sitting on the floor because if you pick yourself up you are probably no longer be a first-time offender. "Did you ever think about asking if you could sell, give or even create a fucking bonfire with the wood of my deceased auntie's side table? Did you fucking asked?"

"Oh I didn't know," she says simply. You feel the tears streaming down your face and you don't actually know if it is because of sadness or anger.

"So funny Laurel because I don't even fucking know how you function like a human being because your brain is so fucking empty of common sense really," you bristled, finally getting up and picking up your big backup, "Look I don't know how I don't care really, it is up to you, but you get my table back in perfect state, and you will pay this month rent fully because I am not living with you I would prefer Satan as my roommate really, and you may as well find another roommate because I will not move a muscle to put someone inside this apartment," You say moving past Laurel and the crazy big guy, "and by the way Laurel? I would fucking lock the door today you don't really think about how many insane people leave in this world."

You say finally get out of the apartment.

You don't really stop walking because you are afraid you will just fall on the ground, crying in the middle of the street in the fetal position, not really a pretty picture. You know Jeonghan's house is not really far, a twenty minute walk. You wish you had an epiphany when you see yourself at his door, a moment to say 'wow why am I here?'. But you know yourself enough to know why, you know Jeonghan enough to know why you are at his door.

You know Jeonghan will open the door for you, and you hope deep down that he will hunt Laurel-the-sattan-spit-roommate down.

When Jeonghan opens the door, he looks puzzled, his face shows that he is trying to understand what is happening. You are sure he was ready to say that he didn't order something and to check on his neighbor.

"What happened?" Jeonghan asks when he sees you on his door instead of a lost delivery guy.

"Laurel," you say, and before having the chance to say anything else, you already feel the pain, you don't want to cry but you end up doing that nonetheless. You even hiccup once or twice before you feel Jeonghan's arms against you, enveloping you, making you feel safe.

"What did she do?" Jeonghan tries again, one of his hands still around you, while the other cradles your head, his hand softly stroking your head.

"She sold my side table," you say, still hiccuping your way through the sentence and you feel so fucking dumb, crying in Jeonghan's arms, and you feel Jeonghan's body goes completely rigid before he holds your face in his hands and you almost flinch because you cannot face that man in this state, and second, his hands are cold.

"She sold your side table?" He asks and you just nod, it is the only thing you can do, "The side table?" He tries again just to receive the same reaction, his hands wrap around you, but this time he hugs you tighter, your head smashed against his chest and somehow you find a resemblance of comfort.

Jeonghan takes you to the kitchen, and when you feel his arms release you, you just sink to the ground, your back to the cabinets. Jeonghan hands you a cup of water, and hugs you again, his hands rubbing your back like you are some kind of a toddler, and that alone makes you sniff even more. That motion alone takes you back to your college days when you went back home to your auntie's funeral - Jeonghan drove the whole way, and the only sound inside the car was you crying. Back then you didn't know that Jeonghan lost an important exam so he could drive you back home, later when he was pilled with an ungodly amount of work and told you he needed to do an extra project so he didn't fluke his class you cried all over again - part of it because you felt guilty, part of it was because it was Jeonghan, and you could count on him for anything.

And here he was, years later taking care of you again. You never doubt he would, that alone - the certainty that Jeonghan is in your life should scare you, but it never did. Not now, and not even back in college when Seungcheol joked about every time a new girl showed up alongside Jeonghan. Somehow you knew that Jeonghan would be there if you needed him, if you ever shouted that man would run leaps. The thing was, Jeonghan never told you anything remotely close to make you believe that, he never promised you anything, but Jeonghan actions always reassured you that no matter what, he would be there if you needed him the most.

You think about it how - weirdly - you were never in that position, how you never once was that person to Jeonghan, the person that reassure Jeonghan or be someone he could lean on. There is a deep down desire that you don't quite acknowledge over the years - that you want to be someone important to Jeonghan. Someone as important as Jeonghan is to you.

When you feel you can finally breathe you get out of Jeonghan's hold to go to the bathroom, in a way searching a way to escape your own feelings and thoughts, pretending you just need to wash your face. When you return to the kitchen, Jeonghan is in the same place, sitting on the floor staring at his own hands. Now, calmer, you take the whole scene of the kitchen; the single glass of wine on the counter, the open bottle, Jeonghan's cellphone, and his notebook.

“Were you drinking?” You ask after a while, sitting on his sides and copying his positions - legs stretched and back flushed against the cabinets. The hiccups are still there but they’re less frequent now, and you can finally breathe on your own.

“Yeah I was,” Jeonghan says, stretching his legs and looking at his feet cladded with old socks.

Jeonghan thinks about the minutes before you arrived, how he was just scrolling on his phone and drinking alone because his mood was so dreadful that he didn't want to make anyone suffer in his company. The only person he would subject to a vent session was Seungcheol, so drinking alone was the only answer. The truth is plain and simple really - Jeonghan has been feeling miserable for quite some time now, mainly because even though it pays extremely well his job sucks. He works for and with shitty people, but it pays well, so that should be enough - why it isn't? But all of that seems so fucking small against the feeling of you losing the last physical thing of someone you loved, someone who was so important to you.

“Why were you drinking alone Jeonghan?” You ask, giving his thigh little taps but still looking ahead - you see yourself in the mirror, you are so swollen you can't face the man like that.

“I,” Jeonghan ponders, thinking about if it is the right time to just go on a tangent about how he works sucks, how his best friend isn't talking to him, and how he wants to go back to his high schooler self and just start everything over, even if he fucks everything over is way better than this gray area that he is stuck on. “We can talk about me another time,”

“Just," You breathe deeply, your head almost knocking against the counter door, "do it for me then,” you tell him softly, almost pleading, “tell me so I can take my mind off this shit.”

“I think,” Jeonghan says, “no, scratch that,” he laughs dryly, “I am sure that I am fucking miserable,” he looks at you waiting for your reaction, “and I’ve been miserable for a while, I just fucking hate everything,”

“Han-” you try to say, and you almost feel like you don't have tears anymore, but if you could physically cry you would.

“I am not depressed, don’t worry, I just,” he trails off, “I hate that fucking job and if I have to spend another year there I would probably kill a rich guy, I have a few investments, and I have savings, and I-”

“You should buy the house,” You blurt out, remembering Jeonghan's eyes looking at the pictures of the house.

“What?” Jeonghan says almost choking on nothing.

“You should buy the house, just give me one room and I will pay rent, we can share utilities and food, and then you can quit,” you declared like it was something people just do on a whim, like you are not even having a stroke just thinking about the process of ending your lease contract, but the sky can open you are not sharing another day in that apartment.

“Not a great deal when I have a fucking loan on my name,” Jeonghan bemused, almost laughing at your non-sense.

“Just don’t tell the bank,” you shrug.

“Well,” Jeonghan says, almost like he is trying to assess the situation, see how everything could plan out from different angles.

“Come on, tell me,” You say finally caving into your curiosity, poking Jeonghan with your elbow.

“Tell you what?” Jeonghan asks but you can feel the playful tone in his voice, almost a childlike wonder of being caught doing something he shouldn't do.

“What is the plan?” You whisper - you don't know why but this whole thing seems like a secret, like something Jeonghan doesn't want to see the light of day yet, something he has been keeping under wraps.

“What plan?”

“I know you Jeonghan," You say finally looking at him, a small smile still stretched across his face, "I have known you for quite a while, come on, don’t underestimate me,”

“What are you talking about?” Jeonghan says playing the fool but the smile is still there, making you probe a little bit more.

“I know you, you would never think about quitting without a black plan besides having a few savings and weird investments, tell me,” You almost pleaded, turning your body to him, your hands on his thighs supporting your own weight on him. And you know you need to bring out the big guns - the begging eyes, almost laughing at yourself.

“Fuck,” Jeonghan laughs at you, his head tilting back and all, like you are the most amusing creature ever.

“Come on,” you urge, using your hands on his leg to almost shake him.

“It is not a plan, it is a desire,” he begins, “I’m thinking about sitting down and doing a few design classes, it can be online but,”

“No-” You say surprised, your smile big across your face because you know where this is going.

“Maybe,” he says still leaning on the counter, eyes closed and that infuriating smile still on.

“You can totally do it,” you tell him almost jumping on your place.

“It is not a plan yet,” he explains, in a vain attempt to make you tone down your excitement, but every time he looks at you he thinks he can give you that, soothe your pain with his dreams and hopes that won't really get out of paper. At least today he can do that for you.

“I can help you,” you say, finally changing positions and sitting almost by his feet, facing him, Jeonghan's hand on your ankle.

“How can you help me?” He asks you, squeezing your ankle and you pretend you are going to kick him, but he just holds your ankle and puts it on his lap.

“We can do it,” you say completely seriously because you truly believe he can do it, achieving his teenage dream job. “You know me, I am an army general, I have discipline, and I love a good worksheet, I am an editor,"

“What you being an editor has to do with it?” Jeonghan says while he tickles your feet, making you almost jerk.

"Stop that," you say using your other to nudge him, "I did a few children's books mind you,” you say, using your free hand to pinch Jeonghan's feet in the form of a threat, “I know how to promote things, I know how to deal with due dates and with manufacturers, you just need to sit down after lunch watch your boring ass class like a college student and hand your resignation letter,”

“It is not something that will actually work and be profitable,” Jeonghan huffs.

“Jeonghan, be honest with me,” you say, this time in a more serious tone.

“Okay,” He says, hands leaving your feet and closing together on his stomach.

“Would you ever take that leap with you couldn’t live till 90 years old with the money you have on the back?” You joke, breaking him in half, his laughter resonating in the kitchen.

“No?” He jokes back.

“We are doing it,” you say like his opinion in his own laugh and plans don't actually matter that much, but Jeonghan just smiles back at you - sometimes, he thinks about how you are the only one who can actually match his insanity, the only one that goes with his plan, or come up with even weird ones.

And Jeonghan knows he is fucked, because every time he thinks he can’t love you more you show him that love grows and expands beyond borders. Lately, Jeonghan favorite song is My Love Mine All Mine, and when he looks at you, in his kitchen, face still swollen and red from crying Mitski sings in his ear - Nothing in the world belongs to me But my love, mine, all mine Nothing in the world is mine for free But my love, mine, all mine, all mine. It resonates with him, the fact that his love for you is his to carry. And this alone makes Jeonghan happy in a weird way, because he knows how much love you deserve, and he is happy that he is the one that loves you, and he loves you for free.

Even though Jeonghan knows you don’t love him like he does love you he thinks about how you are the only person that is always there for him. Everyone that he knows would make Jeonghan just let it go. Why the fuck he would build a business around children’s toys? Why would he resign and leave a great career that gives enough money and intel to just go around and draw a few rabbits and frogs on a page? Just because of joy? Jeonghan always knew that joy alone could not make you survive on this earth.

But yet you were doing just that. Telling him to drop everything and just try to be happy. Right now Jeonghan could drop on his knee and ask you to marry him if you weren’t legally married and if he wasn’t a fucking coward. Sometimes he hates himself for that, the way he holds onto something he knows it is not quite enough but it is the only thing he can have.

Jeonghan thinks about- everything really, but mostly how joyful you are in your own way. How you would buy sweet treats just for the sake of it, how you had every single first copy of the books you worked on even if they were beaten in the process and almost unreadable. He thinks about the first time you showed up on his door, a big book in hands and a smile across your face, buzzing full of pride because it was your first fucking book and your boss give you one in the very first batch - back then you were just the one that did the toughest job, reviewing everything.

Jeonghan knows he loves you, he knows for quite a while.

Jeonghan knew before the first girlfriend dumped him because he was jealous of you. When his third girlfriend asked him if he liked you he couldn’t even lie, when his fifth girlfriend broke up and for the fifth time, the reason was you he just stopped trying dates altogether.

Jeonghan doesn't remember much of the marriage itself, he remembers bits and pieces of an Elton John in a 70's costume and how the chapel was way hotter, making Jeonghan's armpits wet, not a great look for a groom. But he remembers everything before that - in a less hazed lens. He remembers telling you in the hotel bar how he loved you for quite a while now, and how you looked so shocked - telling him he should quit lying. He swore on his first dog's grave, weirdly that made you believe him. He told you how he hated Mark - your college boyfriend that literature guy who gave you poems that you still keep as presents, he remembers you saying how you would keep every post-it note if Jeonghan wrote them in the future. It was a promise, you said holding your pinkie finger out for him. He remembers buying you the ring, you outside the store because he knew you would think that the chosen ring was too much, too big, too expensive, any ring will do it you told him before letting him inside, but he couldn't do it, he could only choose the prettiest ring for the prettiest girl. 

Jeonghan remembers his vow, promising he would take care of you, that he would write love letters for the rest of his life on every special date because you hated presents. And Jeonghan remembers how you two kissed in the chapel, on the uber back to the hotel, in the hotel room - more than you should have, because now it is the only thing he can think about it and you don't fuck remember. Jeonghan thought about running, about changing cities and even country - investments were pretty much the same everywhere in the world really. But the reality was that even if he moved, his love was still his to keep, and he would do that heartedly. He was a coward, but he still had his pride, and if that was the price to pay, then, be It.

“Hey, come here,” He says, finally lifting himself off the ground.

“What?” You ask, looking at him still sitting on the floor.

“Come here,” He says again, giving his hands so you can get up.

“What? You are weird what is going on,” you say finally getting up on your feet.

“Come here,” Jeonghan says and before you approach him his arms are already by your side, enveloping you in a thigh hug. “Thank you,” he says softly, “thank you for everything really,”

“Are you drunk Yoon Jeonghan?” you ask, your own voice muffled by the tight embrace.

“No,” Jeonghan laughs, and you can feel his whole body move, “I’m serious, thank you for being there for me even when you have shit on your own to deal with,” He says, his chin on top of your head, “and thank you for not thinking I am a commitment phobic asshole.”

“You are still on that? I told you I never saw you like that stop being dumb."

“I know, I am just-” Jeonghan doesn't finish his sentence, his arms still around you, his heart beating by your ear.

“Look you are drunk, at least there is nothing much we can fuck up being drunk together after getting married in Vegas," you say and Jeonghan feels a pang, almost like when he stubs his little finger on the corner of random furniture, but he doesn't say anything, "give me a sip of your wine you asshole,” you say getting free of his embrace and holding the bottle of wine

“Come on! Don’t drink it straight from the bottle, there is a glass right there!” Jeonghan protested.

“Come on Yoon Jeonghan, I know you, I know you since you didn’t have enough cups in your first kitchen, don't play the proper guy with me,” you say like basic manners don't exist, and sitting on his counter.

“I grow up I am an adult now,” Jeonghan says, but he doesn't really move a muscle to pick another glass of wine for you, he thinks it is his biggest flaw - the fact that you can walk over him countless times and Yoon Jeonghan will just let you do whatever you want even if he pretends that it is against his will.

“Oh, totally,” You look at him, and even though the phrase itself has a bite to it your voice is honest, “Not to go back to sappy times, but you really did Hannie, you are really growing so much, and I am so proud of you,”

"Shhhh-” Jeonghan murmurs trying to shut you up and you know it is mainly because he is so fucking shy that you almost laugh.

“By the way,” You say taking another sip from the bottle. “I’m so moving in with you and I can even deal with only one room if you don’t sell any of my stuff.”

“Shut up,” Jeonghan says kissing the top of your head, “you can have the whole house, just don’t set it on fire.”

Ultimately, that actually happens.

You actually move with Jeonghan into his dream house. The house is 98% bare, without the furniture of the last owner besides the utilities. But a) it is better than living with your satan-spit roommate, b) Jeonghan has been sleeping on his own couch for over two weeks now because even though you say it is okay you can't spend that time in your own apartment he refuses to let you near Laurel.

But somehow, Jeonghan and you make a home out of the new house. You take the bookshelves on the left, all the books you edited in your lifetime on a special shelf right in your point of view. Jeonghan takes the bookshelves on the right, a lot of the books you edited and gifted him are scattered across it because he doesn’t really care about arranging his shelves in a particular order.

Every time Jeonghan sees a nice piece of furniture he sends you a picture of it, and you two chat about if it fits the room, and the colors would clash. In a weird way your collection of cups and mugs triples the size, indeed you are engrossed with buying new ones, but the thing is - you always pick two of them now. Jeonghan’s favorite is a weird bunny mug that you never actually use because it ears always make drinking anything impractical.

You two also build a weirdly oiled routine. You two eat breakfast together, Jeonghan wakes up early and when he is just arriving for his morning run you are already scrabbling eggs. When Jeonghan is ready for work you are ready for your own run. When Jeonghan arrives from work you still have one hour to go, so in the end he is the one to always cook dinner. After you two share the dishes and eat something sweet as the dessert the kitchen counter - previously used as a dinner table, now acts an officer table.

While Jeonghan looks up some designer classes, you search manufacturers. When he draws a cute rabbit girl that he named Ttoram, you try to understand how a business works, how you file taxes for it? Sometimes Jeonghan does the dirty work himself after he finishes a new version so you get your pink glittery pen and write in post-it what you think about the new product; ‘what is this material arrow-drawing pointing to a specific part of a squish toy’, ‘her head seems big are you sure she won't flop head first in someone’s bed?’, ‘are you sure? I think lamps are quite expensive.

The house gets filled with new art supplies, sometimes Jeonghan orders a bunch of them online, and sometimes you are the one that brings back a single pen or a new colored pencil that you pick up in arts stories every time you go to a meeting. The house is filled with paper and drawings, your favorite ones is always the first drafts - the ones that Jeonghan does on the non-quality paper, the ones that he does on pieces of paper, the ones that look less refined and to you are filled with children-like joy.

Another curious thing is how somehow you and Jeonghan seemed very addicted to post-it. Besides the practical use in the drawing drafts because Jeonghan was an old soul who couldn’t do his work on an Ipad like a normal human being in this day and age, you also used to communicate - ‘please buy eggs!’ you wrote and left on the kitchen door, ‘already set a reminder on my phone so i don’t forget to stop at the market!’ jeonghan replied. “Didn’t see u before I left :( don’t forget to take breaks” he wrote, somehow the post-it ended up in your office, and you glued it on the computer screen beside one green post-it with a frog with a raincoat on.

Every time the fridge was out of space for new ones you took them off one by one, with a smile on your face, and kept them in a box, safely stored. You always noticed one or two missing but you always thought the wind knocked them out and Jeonghan, that traitor, threw them in the garbage. In short, everything stayed the same with a daily dose of domestic life. The problem was - that it didn’t stay the same for very long.

And as hard as it was to admit, it was your fault.

There was no way around it.

It weirdly began every time you saw Jeonghan around the stove. The fact that Jeonghan was beautiful-handsome-pretty was not news to you. You, and every human being that laid eyes on him, always reached the point where you acknowledged how pretty Jeonghan was. In college it was a fucking nightmare, guys and girls banging on his dorm room when you two were watching a movie just because they thought Jeonghan was alone - the fact that he didn’t have a roommate because he bribed someone (one of the most Jeonghan acts that you ever witnessed, but that was beside the point - really) only added to the fact that 87% of his course thought he was down to bang anytime. The truth was that you always knew that Jeonghan was someone objectively good-looking, but there was a catch, even though Jeonghan was beautiful you didn’t really feel attracted to him and he knew that. Countless times you told him he was too pretty for his own good along with the lines that he wasn’t your type, ‘what the fuck that supposed to mean’ he answered the first time you said that, back in high school. With time it turned out to be your standard answer to every girl that was attracted to him and wanted a shot with him but somehow thought he was your boyfriend.

You know that Jeonghan is good-looking, and you know that for fucking years so why are you going a little insane every time you get in the kitchen and the man is cutting some onions? Truly it happens in the weirdest hours, out of nowhere, your brain reminds you how hot Jeonghan is - and that is even scarier because you knew that the man was handsome, but hot? That’s a new development. Once he arrived from his morning run, his hair a little damp, sweat dripping down his neck, and only with a thigh shirt because he already removed his go-to wind-breaker and you almost collapsed on the kitchen floor. That alone was mind-blowing.

The horrors begin when you just couldn’t deal with his touch without your mind going to the fucking gutter. When he touched your hips to make your move because he wanted to open a drawer, or when he dropped down on the sofa without leaving space between your bodies, his hand tapping your thigh. Out of nowhere, you are combusting because his hand feels hot against your skin, goosebumps appearing across your skin Jeonghan asks you if you are cold. And the fact that Jeonghan is touching you isn't necessarily super weird, he always did that, but somehow you feel that his touches changed and you can't quite pinpoint how besides the fact that you are reacting differently.

It doesn't really help your case that Jeonghan develops a weird habit of wrapping his arm around your neck. It happens everywhere, even in public and every time you can feel yourself grow a little hotter. You were supposed to pay attention to Minghao’s new paintings, a designer slash illustrator slash painter whom you worked with for a few book covers, and somehow in the middle of the opening of his new exposition, you can’t even think about the impasto on his oil paintings because Jeonghan hands feels heavy on your neck, his fingers touching the lateral of it almost rubbing. Every time you take a step to try to see the paintings up close Jeonghan doesn’t let you leave his hold, his body close enough to be pressed against your back, half of your back feeling hot because of his presence, half of it feeling cold because of his absence.

“Hao!” You say when you finally see the man of the hour, black hair on black coats, his hands behind his back looking around all the people that came just to appreciate his work.

“Hey,” He says opening his arms for you.

“Congratulations,” you say feeling the arms of Minghao around your back, your body though prefer to pay attention to the weight of Jeonghan’s eyes on you, “everything is mind blowing,” you say to the man - his hands still on your body, yours on his shoulder, until you hear Jeonghan clearing his throat in order to get you to notice his existence, and you almost laugh, “Hao this is Jeonghan, Jeonghan this is Minghao.”

“Great job man,” Jeonghan says in a weird tone, giving Minghao two little pats on the back and taking a step by your side, his hand on your waist.

“Thank you,” Minghao says politely, like he always does, “It is a pleasure to meet you, you are in the book industry too?” Minghao asks with his hands in his pocket,

“No,” Jeonghan almost scoffs, him? and books? God forbid, “I work with investment these type of things,”

“Oh, so you are not in the art business then,” Minghao acknowledges and you know his interest peaked even though you don't know why, maybe because you know Jeonghan so well you don't have much to unfold, while Minghao just seems weirded out by the fact that you have a Wall Street dude by your side.

“Oh Hao you always flatter me when you include me in the art business,” you say jokingly, reminiscing one of the many conversations you had with Minghao over a bottle of wine.

“I told you," a sly smile across his face, "books are a matter of passion.”

“You did,” you say somewhat reminiscing of the talk you two had back then. It was after calling him up for his second cover, after a meeting where he made you go through the book's motifs and ideas so he could have a feeling of what he should focus on.

“You should come to the after party,” Minghao says, “we could catch up,”

“Yeah I don’t think we can,” Jeonghan says while he checks his watch, he knows the question wasn't directed to him, he isn't stupid and he has two eyes, but he also is a stubborn motherfucker and now he just wants to ruin Minghao's night, and he is not about to Banksy this place up with shredded art pieces - because he is afraid his bank account can't take the lawsuit. “I have a work meeting tomorrow morning” Jeonghan reminds you, his fingers still on your waist.

“Still,” Minghao says, looking puzzled by you two, “you can stay right?”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” you say sorry “Han is driving us back so-”

“Is your phone number still the same?” Minghao asks without dropping a beat, and Jeonghan can give him that, he doesn't know Minghao but the guy just doesn't quit - he knows a stubborn guy when he sees one.

“Yeah, I didn’t change, but if you need you can e-mail me and-” You say before someone calls Minghao, it is his opening after all, a guy in the suit makes a gesture to him when the three of you look to see who was the owner of the voice.

“Sorry, I have to go, but I will call you," He says before giving you a kiss on the cheeks and walking to the guy who just called him.

Jeonghan snorts, really, what was that? He shouldn't find it so funny but it is. He takes a step back, his hands leaving you, while he looks at the painting. You know he is just pretending to analyze everything.

“What?” You ask him - missing his hand on your waist, on your neck, missing his presence around you.

“Nothing,” he says shaking his head, he is biting back a smile - laughter really, and you want to know what it is so funny, you are curious about what is going on in his head.

“It can’t be nothing come on,” you press on, your hand on his shoulder in a way to get some sort of touch from him, to regain some sort of proximity.

“Just-” Jeonghan stops, in front of another painting, his hand going back to your waist, and at the same time you think you can finally breathe again, your breath feels trapped in your throat, making you swallow on nothing, “You didn’t tell me it was an opening night to your ex-fling," he says. Eyes almost tinkling under the light and you know where this is going.

“Hao isn’t my ex fling what are you talking about?” You pretend, trying to get out of this situation because you know somehow Jeonghan will pry on, and he knows how to push your buttons enough just so you can spill everything he wants to know.

“Not fling then," Jeonghan says, hand still on your waist when he starts walking around the gallery with you by his side, until another painting that he really doesn't really care about, "an one night stand.”

“He is a friend," almost rolling your eyes at him, "I told you, I know him because of work,”

“So you are telling me you guys didn’t fuck?” And even though his words my seem harsh his tone is still light - he was truly a jerk but why are you smiling at him?

“Jeonghan, what the fuck?” You yelped, making Jeonghan's sly smile appear again.

“What?” He asks eyes still on you when you pretend to pay attention to the orange painting in front of you.

“Keep your voice low,” you mouthed, “we didn’t fuck,” you tell him again, and it was the truth, but somehow Jeonghan knew how to read between your words.

“Well,” he began, still looking at you even when he tilted his head to the side, a sly smile still on his face like he could see through you like you couldn't keep anything under wraps, and you could feel the goosebumps on the nape of your neck, your whole body tingling, “I am pretty sure it wasn’t for lacking trying on his part.”

“It would be too messy,” you finally blurt it out.

“Ah of course," Jeonghan laughs again and it almost sounds bitter to you, "so he did try, it was after or before saying the book and passion line?”

“After,” you say, your time to laugh, even though you feel the heat on your skin, a crazy addition to new feels because you are not one to actually feel shy around Jeonghan.

“And you laid him down too gently,” he acknowledges, eyes moving through the room again. You follow his gaze, seeing Minghao watching the both of you across the room, you just greet him with a smile.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You ask him, pressing your body on his sides until his arms are back on you.

“Well," Jeonghan breathes, his eyes still rummaging around the room, "I know you can break a guy's heart but apparently you lost your touch with that one because he is still down to fuck.”

“Jeonghan!” You gasped, “No he isn’t you are seeing things like you always do.” You tell him, Jeonghan had this weird superpower that he tuned in college - he could tell a guy was somehow interested in you from miles away, the first few times you actually made a bet on it; fifteen dollars, to pay him for a meal, to go with him to a frat party that his friend Soonyoung was hosting. After the fifth time, you just learned that was better to trust his judgment on it.

“Oh yeah, it truly takes a mind reader to see a guy ogling you across the room and telling you to show up at the after party even tho you have a guy on your arm," Jeonghan almost scoffs, then he leans down, his mouth close to your ear, "truly, his intention was indeed to talk about the impasto or the lighting or the shadow of his hard-on,”

“Jeonghan” you accuse again slapping his arm playfully, laughing at his antics “If I trusted you my ego would be in the clouds because every walking human being apparently wants to fuck me according to you.”

“Not everyone but a great part of it, sure." He deadpans.

“Sure, apparently you are the only exception who else?”

“I’m not,” Jeonghan deadpans again, just shrugging. Because it is not actually something he tried to hide over the years, it is nothing something that he is ashamed of either. And he is pretty sure it is something you already know since college so he doesn't have to lie about it. Jeonghan might be a coward, but he isn't really a liar.

“What?”

“I tried to get in your pants my whole high school years," He says, his eyes still on the painting, or everything that catches his attention, his eyes are everywhere really but on you. "I just gave up after the few first months of college”

“What the hell?” You try again. Everything feels kind of abnormal in your head. The way that Jeonghan says those words - like he is saying that you two should buy soap the next time you both go do groceries, it freaks you out. How can he be so normal about all of that?

And how could you be so clueless? Everything shifts in your brain - like the earth just changed its axes. He never told you anything closer to this, you are sure of it. You never suspected that Jeonghan liked you back then, or scratch that, that he tried to get in your pants. It seems something so unreal that you are having a hard time wrapping your mind around it - around the idea of a teenager and younger Jeonghan wanting something from you that you never really saw happening.

“What the hell what?” Jeonghan stopped dead on his track, finally looking at you, “You didn’t know that?”

“Of course not,” you say exasperated.

“Oh, I thought you were laying me down gently too,” he added, in the most neutral tone possible, making your head spin a little.

“No, I had no idea,” and it is true. You remember everyone from college who thought you and Jeonghan were a couple back then, everyone who found it weird when you two answered that you were just friends. You remember Seokmin, and you think about Seungcheol's words in Vegas and everything is hazed, a little out of focus. “Why did you give up tho?” You ask him.

“I just,” he says still looking forward and avoiding your eyes like the plague, “I mean, besides the fact that you got into he is not my type phase I would never kiss that man, the fact that I tried for four years and it didn’t happen led me to believe that never would, so...”

“I needed to make clear to every girl that was falling and tripping over you that I was not your girlfriend, they were pretty sure we were high school sweethearts back then”

“I think everyone we know somehow ends up thinking we are in a relationship,” he says, “I mean, clearly not goth impasto guy because that would be crazy, hitting on a woman with her husband on her side but”

“You need to pick up your husband's game,” you say kidding, while walking around the gallery with him, “I was indeed mistaken to be a single woman today.”

“I should have bought a bigger ring,” Jeonghan groaned, making you laugh, weirdly you still have the big ring on your finger.

“That’s not the answer,” you groaned because the man truly had this weird obsession with this ring and big rocks. You could tell him over and over again how you didn’t care about the ring or the rocks and he still found a way to make sure you were wearing the ring.

“And what is? If I try to be more territorial within the touch department we would be in jail for public indecency,” Jeonghan says low on your ear, his voice mischievously, while his hand presses on your hips, “Should we just go to jail?” Jeonghan asks, his hands trying to go lower heading towards your butt.

“Jeonghan, don’t test me,” you say seriously, your hand holding his and bringing up on your body. Why the fuck didn’t Jeonghan behave like a proper human being? Why your heart is racing against your ribcage? Why you are enjoying this whole thing?

The whole night you can feel Jeonghan’s hand on you in some way, or on your lower back, your neck, fingers on your shoulder, making his presence known somehow. And every time you think you are starting to understand what happened - what Jeonghan said, what that meant, he touches you again and everything gets a bit hazed, taking you to the start again.  Should you read into everything that he said to you? Would you be able to deal with it?

Those questions are still going around your brain in the car back home. Home, that alone was something that didn't make sense either. The air in the car is so thick that you think you can't breathe, the fact that Jeonghan's hand is splayed against your thigh doesn't help with the issue. The curiosity gets the best of you - you want to know all the unsaid things, you want to get under his skin and discover everything Jeonghan even wanted.

He doesn't move his hand, he doesn't stroke your skin, his hand is just there. Again, a reminder of some sort, and you almost laugh - silly of him to think that his presence could go unnoticed by you. Jeonghan has always been there on your mind, and lately even more. It makes your mouth go dry. The feeling is back on the pit of your stomach again. What if? You ask yourself, what would have happened if Jeonghan said those things back then? Would the present be different? Would that have washed away all the curiosity about Jeonghan?

Arriving home you go straight to the sofa and plop down in the middle seat, taking your time to take off your high heels, you don’t know why but you still buy pairs with ankle ties - the bane of your existence when it is three hours later and you have a thigh dress on, maybe that’s why you think you hate those types of event, even though you had a great time, saw a few friends and enjoyed the night with Jeonghan, you always ended up tired with a few blisters on your feet. You can hear Jeonghan’s footsteps around the house while you massage your feet and try to ease the tension.

You turn your body so you can stretch your legs on the sofa, the pain on your calves is killing you. You don’t even turn when you feel Jeonghan entering the room, his perfume and the sound of his slippers are enough to make his presence known. It was always like that? Did Jeonghan's presence always engulf you? Did it always make you unable to focus on anything else? Did it always make you question your own sanity? He sits down on the sofa, in the same direction as you, his legs around yours, his front pressed on your back and you hold yourself back because you almost whimper when you feel your body melting against his.

“You’re tense,” Jeonghan says his voice low, his hands pressing the knots on your shoulders.

“I am always tense and stressed out,” you say, and it is the truth. Jeonghan doesn’t need to know that for the last few weeks the fact that he is the number one reason. You almost rub yourself against him, feeling a little bit crazy and hot all over - oh no.

“Hm,” Jeonghan acknowledges. When his fingers close around your neck you almost jump on your seat, his thumbs traveling across the knots of your spine, and you are not strong enough to not whimper this time, “there’s a lot of things you could do to distress.”

“Like what? A guided meditation?” You joke, trying to get away with it, trying to downplay every reaction of your body.

“Fuck those apps,” he mutters under his breath, he is so close you can feel his breath against your nape.

“Yeah right there,” You say when his thumb presses down in a particular knock on your back.

“This one?” You just nod, don’t trust yourself enough to utter a word that doesn’t sound like a humiliated noise. Since when did you turn into a mess in Jeonghan’s hand? But you just accept your fate, feeling how soft your body feels against his. “Can I open this?” Jeonghan asks, his voice so low you barely hear, but he is so close to you that your ears catch his question.

And you still don’t trust yourself, so you nod again. Jeonghan drops the zipper of your dress and takes his time to gather your hair in his hands, and taking them out of his way, letting your locks rest on your shoulder. His fingertips trails the collar of your dress again, and you can feel the goosebumps across your skin and you know Jeonghan can see them as well.

You can feel the way that Jeonghan’s fingertips travel down your spine as he opens the zipper of your dress. And you close your arms around your chest, in order to maintain the dress in place because you can feel how loose the fabric feels against your body after the zip is down. But apparently, Jeonghan is not even close to satisfied because his fingers are tugging the straps of your dress down your arms.

Jeonghan’s fingertips are still on your skin, stroking your arms when you feel his lips against your shoulder. Before you can think about anything your own body reacts before you, giving space so Jeonghan can continue kissing the column of your neck. Everything feels a little surreal, a blur, you can't quite grasp-

Then, your cellphone starts to ring bringing you back to reality.

“Don’t pick up,” Jeonghan tells you, almost like a whisper against your ear, his hands still around your waist - but then your phone rings again and again and reality comes crashing again and again.

And you want to say that you are ok with almost being undressed on Jeonghan’s lap, that it is ok the way his thighs cage you, that it is ok how his hands feel hot against your body and how his lips feel against your neck. But your phone rings again and it must be important so you stretch yourself and try to find your phone inside your bag by feel. When you finally can reach the phone dies, and you can feel Jeonghan’s smile across your skin - like he just won. But before you can drop the phone you feel it ringing again, and when you pick up the big font appears on the screen ‘seungcheol is the best’. You can feel Jeonghan’s hand freeze against your body, the way he just goes rigid.

“Don’t pick up,” He says again but now something is different - his voice is not low.

“It must be something important,” you reasoned, because it is true. You have been trying to get a hold of Seungcheol since before leaving Vegas and yet the man didn't answer you once.

“Just-” Jeonghan tries, and you can feel his squeezing your shoulders again, almost in a silent plea.

“I haven’t talked to him since Vegas, it must be something important,” You say, your own hands going to his in an effort to show him that you understand what he is trying to say.

“Are you truly doing this right now?” Jeonghan asks and when you don't answer him he already knows.

You look at him but Jeonghan just gets up and off the sofa and leaves the room, in the end, you choose to just pick up your phone and answer it with a low “Hey cheol,” so low that Seungcheol asks if you were sleeping.

Seungcheol tells you he wants to meet, to talk about things. And you say yes because why not? You pick yourself up and close your dress. Before going to your room you stop at Jeonghan's door and before you lose all the courage that you have in your body you knock on the door, nothing, and you try again just to hear the sound of the shower across the room when you glue your ear against the door.

When you lie on your bed you don't really can close your eyes. You feel restless, your mind wavering, and you can't stop thinking about Jeonghan.

What would that mean?

If you took that leap would Jeonghan be there if everything fell apart? A shiver runs down your spine because it is the first that the answer would be a no. You ask yourself why now. What made Jeonghan change?

And you can't even look back anymore - you can't even think about your friendship with Jeonghan without it being tinted, his words echoing in your brain, "I just gave up". You play the whole conversation back in your head, almost like an old VHS tape - rewinding and pressing play, trying to see everything in another angle, rewinding, asking yourself what that meant, rewinding, thinking back, rewinding and pressing play - unfolding all the touches, and the times Jeonghan's hand lingered on your body.

You rewind until the sleep gets the best of you when it is already bright outside.

You wake up to the sound of your phone, Seungcheol calling you because he will run a little late, of course, you say while he just laughs because it is so clear that you were sleeping. When you run down the stairs, almost falling on it because your brain isn't functioning yet, you don't find Jeonghan anywhere. When you look at the fridge and there are no new notes, your heart breaks a little.

The coffee that Seungcheol chooses is pretty, and not very crowded, and even though Seungcheol is late is not a big deal, you use the time to go over a few manuscripts and spreadsheets with a cup of coffee on your side. Or at least you try to, but the truth is that you send Jeonghan a few messages and every time your phone pings you need to check if he is the one answering you - it isn't.

When Seungcheol arrives, you see him first, still from afar, his hair is shorter now. You almost laugh because that is definitely not a Seungcheol's choice, nor a haircut. His hair screamed his fiancée's name.

"Hey stranger," he says sitting across from you.

"Hey yourself," you greet him back, almost laughing at how awkward this whole thing is. Seungcheol and you walking around eggshells. Neither you nor Seungcheol wants to start talking about the whole elephant in the room - Yoon Jeonghan.

You ask him about the wedding preparation, it is going nice he says, he was late because he needed one last fit on his suit. His mother nagged over and over about how he shouldn't wear a navy blue suit, his future wife nagged about how it couldn't be black because the whole vibe of the afternoon wedding was different from a night wedding.

"I'm just happy that you guys worked everything out," Seungcheol says after a while, sipping on his coffee.

"Cheol," You try your heart already tugging on your inside.

"No really," he smiles at you, the way he always does - with a fondness you can't quite handle, like after all those years he still sees you like the kid you once were. Someone who didn't really have hold of her life and in a way, after all those years you feel like that again. "I did a lot of thinking," Seungcheol chuckles, "I think that I always have been envious of Jeonghan in a way," he breathes loudly, almost trying to gather up courage, "here I was, with my wedding date set up and still having doubts about how I feel and if I should go on with it." Seungcheol scratches her head almost like he is ashamed to tell you the truth, "And there is my friend, right? I think that the thing I always admired about Jeonghan was how consistent he was, you know me, in that way, we are alike right? We see shine things and we run towards them, a new project, a thing we like, don't even say anything about the golf gear I swear to god," he says abruptly making you laugh, and it was true in that sense you and Seungcheol were very much the same. "But Jeonghan is consistent, that man's mind is a fucking rock," Seungcheol says like a jab and you can understand why, "and yet he is more sure about you than I am about my fiancée really. And he has been sure for years, I still don't know what made him make a move-, he didn't talk to me prior to that, but I am truly happy that you guys figured it out, it took you long enough."

"I don't even know what to say," you breathe, looking at Seungcheol. You can't blurt out the words - physically unable to tell him. You think about what you should say, you should tell him -'we are not together', 'we didn't figure it out'. You want to tell the truth, you want to come clean, but you just can't. "But yeah, he has always been there for me" you laugh a little soulless. It is not a lie either, but it is not the whole truth, Yoon Jeonghan has always been there for you, but now all the other pieces of the puzzle are coming together. "I think the only thing that hurt him was you going on and on about his commitment issues or whatever.

"It's-" Seungcheol breathes, "it wasn't like that. I mean, sure, he can't commit to anyone who isn't you," he shrugs, "I think it was back when you were going out with that lit kid right? god" Seungcheol laughs, shaking his head like he just found a memory in his treasure box, "Jeonghan was so jealous back then," Seungcheol continues, reminiscing,  "he would get furious every time that guy would give you a letter, a poem, anything really. I don't know how you didn't catch up on how much he hated that guy's gut if he dissed the poor kid."

"I just thought-" you stop to think about it, "I don't even know what I was thinking back then, but I never once thought it was because of jealousy, he was dating like 3 girls at the same time back then," you tell, felling the bittersweet taste on your mouth.

"Well," Seungcheol takes another sip, "you know Yoon Jeonghan, when he doesn't get what he wants he tends to fuck everything up and push himself to do shit just out of spite. His high school crush and love of his life found her first boyfriend, how do you think he would handle that? What he could do about that? Try to write poems better than Mark? He tried to believe they were all shitty, trying to forget you was the last thing he could do for himself, even that didn't actually work."

And you feel like you are about to go into overdrive.

It is one of your flaws really, you were never one who would react quickly - your brain always trying to assess and digest everything before being able to take a leap. The problem was that you needed to unpack more than ten years, to go through every file of your life with Jeonghan and try to find a new meaning, trying to find a clue, in search of something you don't know yet, but that could make you understand, or realize.

You spend the whole day feeling a weird taste in your mouth.

The thing is, you can't quite pinpoint what are you feeling, you can't really name it. It somehow resembles feeling betrayed, you think, that you have a cheating boyfriend and everyone knows his secret but nobody has the courage to tell you, and when you actually find out you are the last one to know.

You take your time walking around town and even figure out the longest route to Jeonghan's house.

Even that sounded weird rolling off your tongue.

You try again - picking random memories to try to see if you can find a hiding meaning somewhere, a clue, evidence of Jeonghan's feelings. A crush you could understand, something small like an affection with an expiration date you could understand. You could understand the curiosity that grew in the past month.

But Seungcheol's words didn't point to that, Seungcheol's words were actually pointing in the opposite direction of that.

And if you were being honest with yourself, that made you afraid.

“I talked with Seungcheol,” you blurt out when Jeonghan finally arrives.

“Yeah, we are not going there,” Jeonghan says seriously, without looking at you - avoiding you at every cost. It is a tell, a clue that he doesn't want to talk about it. You don't want either, if you could you would never go there again, but you need to, because living things like they are right now, messy and all over the place aren't working.

“Jeonghan,” you groan, “we need to talk about everything that happened in Vegas, his wedding is in a few weeks."

“I think you were there when he said I wasn't invited so I am not really following right now," Jeonghan says his voice stuffy because his head is inside the fridge in search of something, maybe he is just trying to not look at you.

"He told me you are not answering his calls," You tell him, and before Jeonghan says anything he just scoffs and closes the fridge door without taking anything out. He doesn't actually move, but he doesn't look at you either, his head is hanging off his shoulders, and you know Jeonghan so well that you know that nothing will make him move. You know you are not going to win, but yet you press it on, because you are tired of things being left unsaid, of Jeonghan bottling everything out and things ending up being your fault.

"Why are you being so fucking stubborn about this?" You ask watching Jeonghan just shake his head, "he is your best friend."

“Yeah like Seungcheol’s is flawless,” he bites back.

“Jeonghan this is not the point right now-" You start before he cuts you off.

“It is never the point right?” He asks you, finally looking at you, still holding his weight on the counter, "Is never the point, is never the right time, is never them it is always me fucking it up because it is Jeonghan he is not serious, he can take it, you guys can go on and on and god forbid if someone doesn't wanna take more bullshit from you."

“Come one don’t get angry with me,” you plead.

“Of course, right, I can't even get angry," Jeonghan says before he heads to walk out of the kitchen.

"Jeonghan," You almost beg making him stop and look at you, "we really need to talk about everything."

"Talk about everything or for you to be Seungcheol's spokesperson?" He says, and when you don't answer he completes, "Then no, we are not talking”

“Of course, because that will solve everything," you say almost groaning, "he is your best friend for god's sake, he still thinks we are in a somewhat relationship, he wants to talk to you, he feels guilty for being an asshole. He is sorry." You try almost stomping your feet at every word.

"Well, good for him," Jeonghan says like words don't have enough weight to make him care.

"Come on Jeonghan I'm trying here," you whine.

"Trying to do what exactly?" He asks, "Did you ever think about what actually happened since Vegas?" He says finally looking at you, and you feel even worse. He almost laughs when you don't answer. "Okay, I did, I spent every single second thinking about it and I am really fucking tired of thinking about it. I tried to put it through a different lens, I tried to put myself in other people's shoes, I tried to be reasonable and understand everyone, look I really did, and I did a great job understanding that you forgot the whole damn thing, of course, you can forget me telling you that I am head over hills for you sure, you can forget that you were the one who kissed me back then sure, of course it happens, I mean," Jeonghan scoffs, "I understand for years what is a few more months right?"

"Jeonghan-"

"No, let me finish this because somehow it will be my fault again so let me make everything clear," he says - back again looking at every corner around the kitchen but not laying an eye on you; "Seungcheol knows, he always knew about everything, he knows how many girlfriends gave me fucking ultimatum and I always choose you. He knows how many women broke up with me because they knew I was in love with you, sure, everyone in my fucking life knew but you - I understand that too sure," he stops, breathing loudly and you feel the lump around your throat way to thigh, "and he fucking knows that if I could I would've got over this sooner, so yeah, maybe I was too fucking sensitive when my friend act like I was a fucking coward who has commitment issues and would never do anything about it sure, it's my fault great, I can be responsible for that. I can take that sure, I can take Seungcheol, what I can't take is you playing dumb after last night, that I can't take it, and to be fair I don't want to, I don't have to, and you don't have a lot of excuses this time, I guess you remember right? And I think that time I made myself pretty clear so this time you must know right?"

You have been building your life around Jeonghan's for years. In a way, Jeonghan's life and yours were beautifully intricate, to the point that you weren't quite sure where one ended and one began. You think about how would your life be without Jeonghan's presence, and how would your future look like. And that scared the shit out of you.

"And that took you how many years Jeonghan?"

"Don't do that," he says and his voice feels almost small.

"Sure, I am sorry if I'm being fucking selfish right now, but you had your own time to think about everything, right? You have had years to come to your own terms? I'm freaking out here, do you think that's easy for me? Do you think it is easy to think about the aftermath if this goes wrong Jeonghan? Sure I understand that maybe that is your tipping point great, I understand that, but you are my friend and I don't fucking know how we will go on if we fuck everything up," you laugh, "I think we already passed that apparently."

"We didn't fuck it up," Jeonghan says, "Why can't you trust me for once?"

"I do," You say, and it is the truth, you trust Jeonghan with your life, "I do, I am just scared. You took your time to figure everything out, but every time I look back now I think about everything you didn't tell me,"

"I told you everything," Jeonghan says and you can almost feel his desperation, "I was sincere about everything,"

"Now you are just telling lies," you say laughing dryly.

"Sure I didn't tell you everything, but the things I haven't told you are small in comparison."

"The fact that you like me isn't small Jeonghan," you say, and it finally downs on you, that this - his feelings are a huge thing that you can't quite hide.

"What I am trying to say is-" Jeonghan says, finally taking steps and getting closer to you, "I will not go anywhere," you hear him - even though it feels like he is whispering, "even if we fuck up, even if this doesn't work out, I will not go anywhere, if that's what you are afraid of then you have nothing to be afraid. I won't go anywhere because that would kill me more than would hurt you, and even though everyone around me thinks I am a masochist I would prefer not to die."

"I would rather not hurt you," you say and you feel like you could cry, "I am sorry if I ever did."

"You did," Jeonghan says, taking your hand, and holding it firmly like that act alone can show you how serious he is, "but nothing I couldn't take, even If you hurt me again, I can take it, I will take it." 

Even if both of you don't want to, things stay a little weird between the two of you for some time. Like both of you are back to being so conscious of each other presence that it is just weird to jump right back at it, or, actually, take a step in another direction. But things fall back into place - more because of Jeonghan’s attitude than yours. He is the one that calls you for dinner, and he is the one that hugs you when you enter the kitchen.

He is the one that is trying to make things not weird. And you love him for it, you just love him, heatedly.

And the thing is, you always loved Jeonghan, but somehow, this kind of love and appreciation feels new and it is so scary, it makes you realize how everything is so fragile. But, at the same time - it makes you curious, it makes you wonder, it makes you act first just to see Jeonghan’s reaction.

Like when Jeonghan’s is whining about something and how he wants to quit his work so bad and you just hug him - almost melting against his back, placing your chin against his should and you can see Jeonghan freeze for a few seconds before he starts to pay attention on the food again.

Or when you start to watch a movie together and Jeonghan just melts in your lap, falling asleep while your hand goes through his hair. The next day when you whine about it he sweats to God he didn't sleep, he was paying attention to the movie, if you want to he can say the whole movie plot and all.

When the first Ttoram prototype arrives you are so excited that when you both place the little bunny on the dinner table, when she flops down - face diving because her head is too big - you are so happy for him that you just hold his face and place a quick kiss on his lips. Jeonghan looking at you wide-eyed. You almost start to laugh before you mutter:

“I told you, her head is too big,” you say trying to place Ttoram upright again.

“It is her charm, her brain is so big that she is dumb,” He says his voice weirdly fond, hands on your body pulling you into him.

“Yoon Jeonghan,” You stare at him - that weird mischievous smile on his lips, “what is that supposed to mean?”

“You should be honored,” Jeonghan says, holding your face almost making you yelp because his hands are so freaking cold, “You are my muse after all.”

And you almost curse him. But the thing is Jeonghan is cute, so will let it pass.

The thing is most of the time you are giggling and kicking your feet at everything Jeonghan does - that crush is so weird because you used to be stronger than that, now you are just falling in all of his antics, and boy doesn't he love it.

He just says the weirdest things out of nowhere just so he can hear your laugh. He holds you every time he has a chance, just pulling you close to hug you. But his favorite part of this new thing is how movie night now is just the two of you starting a movie to just act like a horny teenager.

Jeonghan is always the one who initiates it in a way. Sometimes is just caressing your arm before you start kissing him and licking against his mouth. Sometimes he feels bold enough and places his hand under your hoodie. The details always change but he always ends up with a hard-on and feeling like his younger self.

And it is happening again, his cock is hard, and he can barely hear the movie that is playing on the tv because you are kissing him and he can feel himself melting against the bed, like his whole body is going limp.

It is stronger than him, really. He wants to stay calm and collected but before he knows it he is already a whimpering mess, fingers digging in on your waist, his hips moving on their own, searching for some kind of pressure.

It is such a weird feeling, feeling so boneless and yet, feeling like he is a string - being pulled thigh enough he is about to snap at any minute.

When you break the kiss Jeonghan almost whines but before he can say anything you are already kissing his jaw so he just breathes loudly - accepting everything you want to give him.

“Can I suck you off?” You ask low on Jeonghan’s ears and he almost drop dead right there, like a fucking high schooler, like a teenager who just cum on his pant and drop dead when see a woman naked. And that would be fucking humiliating. He waited for so long he can't just burst a fucking nut in his own pants.

Jeonghan wants to answer you, he wants to say yes and maybe even mutter a please and thank you but somehow his brain is not even working properly, he is beyond dumb. But his dick is hard against his pants and he cannot even think properly - his brain is working overcapacity right now to try to take everything in.

So he does the only thing he can do in the moment - he pulls you into a kiss, and it is messy but Jeonghan doesn’t really care, focusing on the way you taste against his tongue. Jeonghan feels your cold hand against his stomach and he almost jumps at the spot, but you just whimper against his mouth when he does the same thing.

Jeonghan thinks the two of you are beyond niceties - you just told him you want his dick in your mouth, so he lets his desires win, while one of his hands is holding your waist under your shirt, the other one he uses to grope your ass. He squeezes your ass and at the same time, he tries to get your body even closer. You end up with your leg over him, across his hips, Jeonghan with his last functioning neuron takes the chance to shove his hand under your shorts too.

“Han,” you say when you come up for air, hand still splayed across Jeonghan’s body. “Come on,” you try again whining.

“Hm?” Jeonghan questions, his eyes almost closed and his head bent.

“You don’t want to?” You ask, voice low, taking the time that he uses to think about an answer to trail your lips across his neck, sucking at his skin, “I really want to but if you don't that's okay?”

“Hm?” Jeonghan mumbles - for a second he has no idea what are you talking about, his mind focused on how you feel against his hands, the weight of your body against him, how every curve of your body is pressed against his, how you smell and you taste.

“Suck you off,” you say again against his neck, almost petulantly like Jeonghan isn't paying attention, and he really isn't, but you shouldn't blame a man.

“Fuck,” he says almost whimpering.

Jeonghan was never like this - in his life nor in bed. He was never a mess, not to this point. Jeonghan always pretended to be somewhat collected, holding the strings of his life tight enough he could make his own choices, but it was never like that when the topic was you. So when the feeling pools on his belly, a reaction to how your fingers feel against his throat, taking matters into your hands when you grab Jeonghan's chin and maneuver his face in an angle so you can have access to more of his skin.

Jeonghan thinks he can die like this - almost dry-humping your leg. But apparently, you have other plans, your hand tugging at his joggers. Jeonghan's only reaction is to lift his hips, trying to help. It doesn't help much, but it is enough for you to shove your hands under his underwear, making Jeonghan shiver. When your hand finally finds his dick he almost melts, the tip of your things trying to map out everything before you apply pressure on it. He moans softly before closing his eyes.

He wants to be patient and wants to take whatever you give him, but the truth is he can't quite hold back anymore. His hands left your body so he can get hold of your face, kissing you. "Want to see you," he tells you, using all his strength to take one of the straps of your pajamas down. Kissing your shoulders, trying to map your collarbones with his mouth.

When Jeonghan tries to move the strap down your arm you don't budge, shaking your head telling him no, "don't want to stop touching you," and Jeonghan almost short circuit when your hand wraps around him and give his dick a few tugs.

"I know baby," Jeonghan coos, almost delirious out of his mind, his hand holds your wrist and takes out of his cock and the way that you just whine makes him even more desperate. His whole body is limp, almost melting. Jeonghan thinks he might die if he doesn't get naked, but he is too entertained with the view of your boobs in his face.

He knows there is an easier way to do this but fuck it, he is not in his right mind. Instead of taking out your flimsy excuse of a pajama Jeonghan just shoves It down, tugging at the end of the fabric while he kisses your chest. The way that you hold his head is so delicate that makes Jeonghan feel weirdly treasured even if he is completely debauched lapping at your skin. And Jeonghan takes his time, appreciating every inch of your skin

He could spend hours like this, he thinks - almost melting against you, kissing your chest lazily. He drags his tongue across your skin until he can reach your nipple, his hands come up your body until he can grab your boob so he can angle just right before his mouth is back to your body. Jeonghan thinks he can die like that, it would be a good way to go - your fucking tits on his face, your body pressed on his, his hard-on against your thigh, everything feels dizzy. When you shove your chest on Jeonghan's face, holding his face against you, he just takes it because he is so down and so horny that taking it is the only thing he can do.

"Hannie," you call and Jeonghan really just has enough strength to look up at you, without his mouth leaving your chest, "Just let me-" you try to say without much control of your own situation.

It is not like you are in your right mind either. Jeonghan's hands feels warm on your skin, and he holds you so tight that you think about the aftermath of his grip - you should make a mental note to check for marks after this, and that alone makes you tremble. You can only think about how Jeonghan's body feels against yours, how his mouth is still on you, and you want to cry because it is just so good but not enough. You feel you might cry. Or worse, die.

You press Jeonghan down until his back is pressed down on the mattress. And God he is so pretty, it makes you almost feel delirious.

When you sit down on Jeonghan's hips he feels like he is almost dying. Everyone he ever wanted felting very pale in comparison when he lay his eyes on you - hair already a mess, lips red from kissing him, flimsy shirt pooling at your waist. Your hands sneak under his shirt, and he almost laughs, damn he must be looking so dumb right now - feeling and behaving like a fucking virgin while his crush is on his lap, taking her time with him. You lift Jeonghan's shirt, dragging your hands underneath it, almost whining and frustrated when the shirt doesn't stay around his neck. Cute - he thinks, when you pout Jeonghan realizes he said that out loud.

"Just take it off," you whine again, tugging at his shirt.

Jeonghan just nods, holding your hips for leverage until he is sitting upright, holding the back of his shirt and taking it off in record time, before Jeonghan lies down again he feels your hand on his chin, holding him so you can kiss him again. Damn, he is lucky. But before he can think another thought you are pushing him back on the bad again, his hand on your hips.

Your hands travel on his body, caressing him - making him feel so close to losing his mind it is almost ridiculous. When Jeonghan's feels your fingers graze his neck he feels almost delirious, when your hand palms his chest and your digits press against his nipples it Is his time to whine, he almost feels like it is just too much, maybe he is closer than a step away from coming in his pants.

One of your hands is splayed against Jeonghan's stomach when the other one tugs  the waistline of his pants, pulling the elastic band and letting it hit against Jeonghan's skin. You shuffle around his hips, sitting on his thighs now and Jeonghan is ready to complain when you tug on his pants again, this time actually getting the cloth to move and get it stopped by Jeonghan's hard-on.

"Baby," Jeonghan mumbles, "that's too much," he tries again, but apparently there is nothing he can say to make you stop - and in all honestly he doesn't want you to.

Jeonghan thinks he will die if he doesn’t get his dick free. Even though he doesn’t want to he takes the hand off your ass so he can take down his joggers, shoving his underwear down at the same time, his other hand still firm on your waist.

When your fingers close against Jeonghan’s shaft he almost sees stars. You give him a few experimental tugs. He feels so breathless, how is that even possible?

You almost scoff, looking at how even his dick is pretty - really, you should complain because it is so unfair. You press your finger on his slit, collecting the drop of precum, and the way that his dick twitch it makes your mouth water, but before you can even complete your thoughts Jeonghan’s hand is holding your face and bringing it down to another kiss.

If it was up to Jeonghan he would kiss you the whole night, but you had other ideas, using one hand to shove him until he is lying again when the other one is still on his dick. He is pretty sure he can feel your taste against your mouth but yet he feels parched. When you start to press kisses on his body, the only thing Jeonghan can do is take it.

Jeonghan thinks you want to wreck him. He feels you press your lips against his nipples, his hips buckling on its own, and you stroke his dick a little bit harder. Jeonghan can barely breathe, yet, without wasting a second you are doing it again - pressing your lips to his other nipple and licking it.

Before he can even wrap his mind around that you start to lick his belly and Jeonghan almost sees stars. He just feels everything, and apparently, your tongue dragging against his skin goes straight to his dick. Jeonghan doesn't know how, but he lifts himself up on his elbows, the view alone could make him cum - you still kissing him, lips on his hips, pressing Jeonghan's dick against his tummy, fingers rubbing his frenulum and he is just so sensitive that he groans before he can hold your hand making you stop.

"Too sensitive?" You ask and why the fuck do you sound so out of it when Jeonghan is being pulled and pushed around the edge?

"A little," Jeonghan answers breathlessly, his tongue dry against his mouth.

"Ok, noted," you say before doing something even worse - placing your lips on the same place before kissing the tip of his dick.

You wrap your lips around Jeonghan can't really control himself, he just pushes his hips slightly so you can take more of him, and god when you moan around him almost makes Jeonghan forget every trace of decency and good bed etiquette. But damn you just look so beautiful sucking his dick, one of your hands digging on his thigh and the other one still wrapped around his dick that it is physically impossible to not thrust his hips up.

"God," Jeonghan says and he sounds so defeated against his own ears, "fuck, you are so pretty," he tries again, looking at you and when he sees you looking up at him, eyes almost twinkling with the praise. And his mind almost snaps - oh, you felt that didn't you? The joy of discovering something every time Jeonghan's hips snapped. He gets it now. It is almost like a power trip. "So pretty, taking my cock," Jeonghan tries again and he almost can feel your moan against his dick before he can hear it.

Every word that Jeonghan mutters makes you take more of his dick into your mouth until he is hitting the back of your throat, god and how he can take that? Your lips around him, your tongue dancing around his dick, the hollowing of yours checks each time you suck him. He is delirious and out of his mind. He tries his best, he really does, but his hips have a mind of its own, and before he knows it he is thrusting up again making you gag around him.

Then your mouth leaves his dick and Jeonghan feels like he is about to collapse, everything just feels so much - the sound, the spit trail, the way your breath is irregular, fanning against his skin - and yet the intensity of feeling nothing makes him mind spin a little bit.

"Come here," Jeonghan mutters trying to catch his own breath. You crawl up his body and Jeonghan can only focus on how messy you look, lips glossy and pink, and he can see the faintest trail of spit on the corner of your lips, he presses his lips there before he drags his fingers on your lips, "I let you suck my cock, can I fuck you now?"

"Please?" You ask back and Jeonghan can feel his dick twitching.

"How do you want me?" Jeonghan says tugging at the bottom of your shorts and he almost laughs when you just shove everything down at once - and he could laugh really, at your desperation but first, he is way worse than you, second you are so pretty that he can't wrap his mind around the fact that everything he conjured up in his mind every time he thought about you when he was lazily stroking himself didn't do you justice.

"You can stay like that," you say, and before Jeonghan can mutter an answer you are already placing your knees on the sides of his hips, his hands automatically going to your waist, his mouth pressing against your collar bones.

One of your hands goes to Jeonghan's jaw, just holding slightly, while the other one wraps around Jeonghan's dick again - and he swears he would say something but his mind goes completely blank when you press your pussy on his dick. Your hips moving to make his cock disappear between your folds, making it drag against your clit, Jeonghan can feel how wet you are and god everything just feels so hot - he feels tight all over, like his muscles are contracting, even the ones he didn't know he had.

"Are you getting off like this?" Jeonghan questions and his only answer is a whine and your hips buckling against him, "Come on baby," Jeonghan tries again, hand now holding your hip, guiding your movements, "I can-" Jeonghan breathes, he doesn't want to say it but, "If you keep going like that, pussy so pretty against my cock, I will cum before I-"

"God," you groan against his shoulder, "can you really?"

"Yeah," Jeonghan almost laugh, his hand grabbing your ass. Of course, he can, he could've come already, but he is dragging this off, he is holding himself back. "Babe," Jeonghan calls you, mouth hot against your neck, "I could've come on your mouth, I'm so hard it is almost painful,"

"Can we-" You almost hiccup, "can we like that" you mumble again, "you can fuck me later," you say and Jeonghan almost sees white.

God, he could cum like that this wasn't even a question, the question was could you? The fact that you were over the edge like him was enough to drive him crazy.

Every time you drag your hips against him Jeonghan's let out a little moan, and he feels so wrecked that he just plants his lips on your neck, sucking at your skin. Jeonghan does not know if it is a reaction or is just because he is losing his mind but he can tell you are getting faster, the rhythm getting a little off, the way you breathe against him, everything just seems too much, and Jeonghan can't take it anymore.

The world stops spinning for a bit - everything just stays still.

Jeonghan is out of it until the sound of your breath brings him back. You are almost pouting. "Did you?" Jeonghan asks, himself breathless too.

"No," You whine and you feel so frustrated that Jeonghan pities you a little bit.

"It's okay," he says - because it is he will take care of it, it's not a problem.

But when Jeonghan looks down he almost cums again. It is so messy. Why there is so much cum? God, he blinks at the view - trying to take everything but mainly you, hovering on his lap.

"Han," You call and Jeonghan is brought back to reality.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry," he says, and it is not like he is in control anymore, his mind Is just gone, he just drops his hand - scooping his own cum and placing it own your pussy. You moan so loudly and Jeonghan can feel your desperation, pressing his digits more firmly against your clit, "Like that?" He questions and you can only nod your head, words falling. Jeonghan holds you close to him, your chest against his, your hand still going between your legs, his other hand holding your waits, "Fuck how can you be so hot," he starts going making you feel a light-headed, "I will eat you later okay?" Jeonghan says, "Don't worry, I will eat you out and I will let you fuck me, you just need to tell me what you need."

"Just," You hiccup, "Just like that."

Jeonghan listens to you, even though the position is not the best to his wrist and he could do so much better - but you just keep babbling on and on about how you are almost there, how he just needs to stay like that, how you are feeling so good that he listens to you, how could he not when you are almost coming undone against his fingers?

And then you bring Jeonghan's face up to a kiss, his mind was too focused on his fingers disappearing against your folds to catch on earlier, but you don't seem to mind when you lick against his mouth and finally cum. Jeonghan holds you against his body for a few seconds when he finally hears you groan.

"God I am so sticky," you complain and he finally laughs.

Jeonghan though, keeps his promise and he eats you out after that, and he fucks you too, and then, he just forgets he has his own room.

It is weird how much you two fit each other. And how seamlessly you two turn into boyfriend-girlfriend situations, or legally, husband-wife, but who cares about silly papers really?

Everything is normal really - Jeonghan keeps saying he need just a better Ttoram version before you two start promoting on social media. You two keep sharing dinners, and Jeonghan even makes a point about how the two of you need to go on a date. You bribe him, telling him he needs to call Cheol before the wedding - and he just shrugs and picks his phone up calling his best friend, you almost scream, it was that easy?

You two share everything, you don't know why but Jeonghan just chooses your bed to sleep in, you question him saying you want to sleep on his bed too - it just smells like you, is nice - he says before making a weird noise after face planting one of your pillows. 

It comes to the point that you get weirded out when you wake up and he is not on your bed. When you pick yourself up and finally drag your body out of the bed - something weird happens, an unknown voice resonates in your house - okay not yours, Jeonghan's but...

You find Jeonghan in the kitchen, back facing you, sipping a cup of tea with another woman. A very gentle elderly lady, her hair is almost all white, and everything about her screams grandma. She sees you before you can say anything,

"Hi dear," even her voice is gentle.

"Han?" You ask when Jeonghan stares at you, eyes fondly taking up your sleepy self.

"Hey baby, come here," He says opening his arms, "come here Iris was talking about how she was visiting her third grandson can you believe that?"

You could, sure, everything about her screamed grandma in uppercase letters, but what was happening?

"Yes," the old lady answers, "where was I?" she claps before she picks back up again, "See like I was telling you, Aroon's mom is my youngest daughter, and her pregnancy hadn't been the easiest so that's why I couldn't bring the table back," she says and you neck almost snaps, looking at Jeonghan's, he is so proud of himself that you almost scream. "So I'm sorry dear, your husband told me how much it meant to you but I was out of town so-"

God, he looks so proud and so full of himself, he couldn't be happier right now. God, you are so deeply in love with him. You could marry him all over again.

[BONUS SCENE ONE - THE WEDDING}

“Are we doing this for real?” You ask and the world is kinda spinning a little bit, by your side, Jeonghan holds your hand. You both stare at this little chapel, the Elton John one because you said that you would prefer to be married with don't go breaking my heart, Tiny Dancer or even Berry and the Jets as a soundtrack than any of the Elvis’s songs and of course Jeonghan listened, he listened to everything you said. What a fucker, how could you not be in love with this guy? What? Wait-

“Of course, we are doing this, we made a bet,” Jeonghan says still staring at the chapel.

“Only because we made a bet,” you say looking at him. When Jeonghan turns his head to look at you something inside you sings a bit - like a doll with something in the inside broke and jiggling inside.

“Of course darling, only because we made a bet,” Jeonghan says, holding your hand firmly, he smiles at you, and out of nowhere he is running inside the building and you follow him around because why not?

It seemed like a fucking great idea, and you both did lose the bet, even though right now you can't really think straight - how does a bet work? Can both people lose a bet at the same time? You are not totally sure but you guess Jeonghan is right, it can happen.

[BONUS SCENE TWO - BIOGRAPHY]

When Jeonghan finally opens the hotel door you almost fall in the room, but before you fall face flat on the floor Jeonghan's hands save you from breaking your nose.

“Wow, what a gentlemanly husband I have,” You say, tapping his chest.

“Sure, sure, perfect husband material right here,” Jeonghan says pointing at himself the door still open.

“You are,” you gushed, hands on his shoulders searching for some kind of balance, using these high heels shows was so wrong, but you knew at least you would be pretty in your wedding pics, and in the end, that’s all that matters - the pictures for your own autobiography that you will make for your grandchildren. You always told Jeonghan that you would make one for him too, with every single thing he gave you as a safe keep and the collection of pictures you have of him in different times of his life. You have pictures of Jeonghan with his long hair, with his short hair, the time he died it was almost white because he thought it would be so so cool and ended up hating how it fucked up his scalp. You had the material, you had the story, and you could do his biography, the funny thing now it is that his grandchildren could be yours too.

“What are you laughing at?” Jeonghan says, kneeling at your feet and taking your shoes off, wow, a life-saver.

“I just thought about grandchildren,” you squealed in a high-pitched voice that you didn’t know you had until Jeonghan’s hand found your hips.

“Grandchildren?”He asks you softly.

“The biographies,” you say and Jeonghan nods, “I was thinking about how I always pictured us together when we were gray and old in a nursing home together all that jazz, but know that I thought about it, your family will be my family so the grandchild will be the same kids, I won’t do your biography for your grandchildren I will do your biography for my grandchildren as well that changes a lot of things,”

“Like what?” He asks amused

“I don’t know if I want to tell them about the time you were sure to have gonorrhea or something like that”

“I do think we can let this story die with us,”

“wait, now that I am thinking about it like we only have one family," You say, a pouting on your lips, and Jeonghan almost melts, "that means only one visit in the nursing home because like when our family as separate entities we would have two families so two visit yours and mine now that I think about it I think we should divorce

“We are not divorcing," Jeonghan says.

“We can annul It,” you try again.

“We won't do it,” Jeonghan says, shaking his head like you are talking nonsense.

“But two visits are better than one,” You say showing him your fingers and trying to make him understand that two are indeed better than one, boys like girls even sang about this, was Jeonghan dumb?

“I won't have a family if it isn't your family,” Jeonghan says plopping down on the bed.

“Of course you can have a family,” you are sure of it Jeonghan is amazing there is nothing stopping him.

“But I don't want to,” Jeonghan whines looking at you and you get it, you finally get it.

“Damn boy you are crazy about me,” you say laughing, laying on his side.

“Now you are catching up,” Jeonghan says while his arms close around you.

“Still think two is a bigger number”

[BONUS SCENE - SHOULD WE?]

Jeonghan, your husband of three years, is eating on the kitchen counter and you can almost hear the gears in his brain turning and twisting. Sometimes, you think that maybe, Jeonghan is like a toy that he built the week prior, if you pick him up and shake him around you can hear loose parts of him rattling inside of himself.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask while opening the fridge.

“Should we go to Vegas again?” He asks taking a bit of his breakfast.

“Vegas?” you say - your head peaking and your body stretched so you can face him while the fridge door is open. 

“I was thinking we should renew our vows,” he says like he is thinking about buying lunch because he cannot bring himself to cook, “you know, I want you to actually remember our wedding.”

[in-need-of-gally-content]

|Chapter•Thirty|

•|Masterlist|•

With the sun rising and being greeted with a new day, pretty much no one wanted to get up from bed. Losing a Glader was always tough, even if they didn't get along with whom they lost, it wasn't easy to accept one of them was gone.

Everything was quiet, eerily so and it felt suffocating. It would be this way for a while, just until everyone learns how to live without them.

In the treehouse, was Gally, a deep frown on his face as he squirmed around, gripping the pillow tighter, his breathing was ragged and he began mumbling slurred words every second, "No, no..." His whole body shifted and his jaw clenched, "(M/n)...!" He gasped, jolting up awake.

For a moment, he thought what had happened the day before was all a bad dream, and that he would wake up in his room, on his bed, and (M/n) was safe and sound in his treehouse... But no. It wasn't a dream.

He sat from the lying position he found himself in after falling asleep crying, and clutched (M/n)'s pillow close to him, almost letting himself cry again, but he couldn't, his eyes were irritated and most likely swollen, hurting from all the crying he had done during the night.

Gally took a few deep breaths until he calmed down, and put the pillow down, fixed (M/n)'s sheets on his mattress and stood up, looking around the room and spotting the wooden bear he had carved and given to him, it was sitting on top of his bookshelf, next to the lamp and his journal.

The cover was filled with both of their doodles by now, (M/n) would draw something small and then Gally would add to it and viceversa, it was like a silent game they agreed to. Like that time when Gally drew a cat sleeping and (M/n) made it so their tail formed a heart under them.

His fingers graced the cover, specifically where (M/n) had written his name next to a bean drawing. Gally had to take another deep breath when his eyes felt that known stinging pain, and he stepped away from the bookshelf, turning to the door to leave the room.

When he made it to the bottom of the ladder, he heard Bark's crying, whining to get his attention. Gally saw him walk out of his house and bump his head against his leg, he reached down to pet him, "We're gonna find him... We will."

Together, they made their way to the Doors, they were still closed, but there were roughly thirty to twenty minutes before they opened. Gally was set on going out there and finding (M/n), even if that meant breaking the rules and going all by himself. Worst case, he will have the same end as (M/n) did.

And to Gally, dying while looking for him was better than living the rest of his life without him. He couldn't even imagine how life would be if (M/n) wasn't next to him every day. He brought so much light to his life in the Glade, and now he wasn't able to function without him around.

He and Bark sat in front of the Maze Doors, together, supporting each other with their presence, and slowly, minute after minute, another Glader would come and stay, and another one of (M/n)'s friends would come and wait. Gally was growing impatient with all the waiting they had to do, it almost felt as if time had completely stopped, as it was mocking him and trying to get Gally to lose his mind.

At some point, with almost five minutes left of wait, Gally stood up and started pacing back and forth, nibbling his bottom lip or biting his nails, messing with his hair with anxiety. He took deep breaths to try and remain calm, but it was almost useless.

Until he spotted Minho from afar approaching, "Alby gave us permission to look for (M/n)," Gally looked far off into the Glade, and saw Alby standing in front of the Homestead, arms crossed and a frown on his face. He nodded at him as a thank you, and turned back to the rest.

"We'll find him... Even if it takes us all day." Everyone around nodded at Gally's words, the least they could do was find (M/n)... Or whatever was left of him.

Minho checked the time and signalled with his head at the Doors, "It's time."

Right after he spoke, the Doors made their usual sound as they opened, gears turning and the wind coming out made them look away or cover their eyes. Gally kept his eyes locked ahead, lowering his arm as the wind began to ease and, right on the other side, as the Doors were open halfway, they saw him.

Gally stared surprised, his lips parting open as he felt like his soul returned to his body. "(M/n)..." He was there, sitting up against the wall opposite from them, directly across. Without wasting a second, Gally ran into the Maze, followed by Minho.

"Chuck, get the meds!" Mikah told the greenie as he ran after both Keepers. Chuck didn't have time to reply, he just ran back into the Homestead, and began calling Clint's name frantically.

"They found (M/n)!"

When Gally, Minho and Mikah stopped by (M/n)'s side, they saw how badly he was shaking, his skin covered in sweat.

"(M/n)... (M/n)... Wake up, please, bean," Gally mumbled over and over as he held his face in his hands, he was breathing, although every exhale was rapid and shaky. Minho noticed the blood stain on his shirt and slipped his fingers into the holes of it, ripping it open more to see where was the bleeding coming from and if the wound was too deep or big.

"Shuck-" he put pressure on it when he saw how much he was actually bleeding, and he thought it was a miracle he was still alive with all the blood he had lost. He noticed the very faint but marked blue veins going up his neck, so he looked around frantically, trying to find the spot where the mark was, and he found it, "Mikah, lift his pants."

Gally looked at Minho confused and then at Mikah, who gripped (M/n)'s pants and pulled the leg of his pants up. They looked at it and then at each other, (M/n) got stung.

"Well, that explains the shaking and breathing," Mikah mumbled while Minho reached to rip the fabric of (M/n)'s pants, tying it around his shoulder to stop the bleeding. Gally lifted (M/n)'s arm and wrapped it around his shoulders while reaching behind him to hold his waist, and Minho did the same once he was done.

"Okay, we'll get him up on three... One, two, three!" They stood up with a groan and Mikah began walking backwards ahead of them, just to make sure they wouldn't trip or fall.

"Guys, I brought the meds!" They heard Chuck's voice as they approached, followed by footsteps on the dirt and grass.

The three of them walked back into the Glade, and Clint and Jeff rushed to them.

"Set him down," they did, and Clint noticed the hole on (M/n)'s leg, marked veins coloured blue and black making their way around it, going in every direction, "We need the serum..." He looked at Minho, and the Keeper knew what to do.

"He has a really bad wound on his shoulder, you might want to check that first, Clint..." Minho said before he got up and ran to the Homestead. The serum was kept in a crate, in the basement, and never in his life had he hated undoing those damn knots as much as he did now.

Jeff untied the cloth Minho had wrapped around him and lifted it slightly, before covering it up again, "He's bleeding a lot, and I don't see the wound but he might need stitches."

Clint nodded and reached his hands under (M/n)'s trembling body, "We have to get him inside," everyone around crouched to help, "Alright, let's go," they stood up, taking (M/n) with them and rushed their way to the med room.

All the Gladers that were waking up from the commotion, saw the same guy that ran into the Maze, who they thought had died. They were carrying (M/n) inside, and a few felt tears of relief gathering in their eyes.

"Free the table, Chuck," the greenie nodded and took the journals and boxes off the table, putting them on the bed next to it, and they entered through the open door, placing (M/n) down on the table, "On his side," Clint turned his body so it would be lying on his good shoulder, "Jeff-"

"Here," Clint got handed what he needed and placed the deep bowl on one of the free spaces on the table.

He proceeded to lift the blood-stained cloth, "Shuck..." He cursed to himself as the blood kept coming out, almost unable to see the wound, but it was pretty bad, "Jeff put pressure on that, Gally sit him up, I need to get stuff ready," he turned around and stared at everyone in the room and waiting outside, "I need you guys to leave," reluctantly they did, and he saw Minho coming with the serum in his hand, "Inject him, I'll be right back."

Minho took a deep breath and approached the table where (M/n) was, gripping the syringe tightly before reaching down and injecting the bright blue liquid into his blood.

(M/n)'s body tensed and shook even more at the burning of the serum, his eyes moved rapidly behind his closed eyelids as his body fought the Changing, hissing and grunting in pain, but they just had to hold him still for a few seconds, before he calmed down, and the veins began to disappear. At least, the trembling was gone now.

Clint came back in wearing a new shirt, a short-sleeved instead of the long one he had been wearing, washed hands and a bag across his chest.

"Is he still bleeding?" Jeff didn't have to look to know, the blood had soaked through the new and clean cloth he had grabbed, "Alright, Minho take Jeff's place, and you wash your hands and get ready, we're gonna have to suture his wound."

///////

After cleaning the wound with water to get rid of dirt, debris or anything that could cause infection, Clint and Jeff got to work. Jeff prepared the needle and thread while Clint stitched him up, Gally was in charge of holding (M/n) still and keeping his head in place, while Minho cleaned any blood around it when needed.

And after a while, they were done.

"Minho, can you fix the bed?" Jeff asked while he finished wrapping the bandages around (M/n)'s shoulder and chest, they had to cut his shirt to be able to get the bandages secure, but he was still dressed, the shirt no longer had sleeves tho. And of course, they made sure to not cut the straps of his sports bra, just slightly pulled it down and let it hang around his bicep.

Minho nodded and walked toward the nearest bed, taking everything off of it and dusting it to the best of his abilities.

Gally hadn't said a word, he just stared at (M/n), lost in his own little world.

"Gally..." He blinked and looked up, Clint had tapped his shoulder to get his attention, and was trying to smile at him, "Would you help us get (M/n) on the bed?"

He nodded a few times, "Yeah... Yeah, of course."

They picked him up and carefully placed him down on the bed. So far, (M/n) hadn't put up a fight despite being stung, others would usually need to be tied up, but his body had reacted quickly to the serum, so there was no need to tie him to the bed.

"Okay, I'll let everyone know he's doing well," Jeff walked toward the door and opened it. He saw a few of the Builders, (M/n)'s friends. Alec, Doug and Kurt were sitting on the couches accompanying Mikah, Chuck and Fry.

Seeing them waiting patiently for them to come out, just to hear anything about (M/n) almost moved Jeff to tears, but he held them back, especially when all heads turned to him at the sound of the door opening.

"He's still passed out, but... You can come in and see him," one by one, they stood up and walked, looking at (M/n), who had been covered by the sheets, his breath ragged and rapid.

Gally was wiping the sweat off his face and holding his hand, he was holding back his tears, that much was obvious, he blinked quite a lot and gulped often as he tried to get rid of the knot in his throat, "It might take him a while to wake up, but he will, he's strong," Clint added as he walked out, followed by Jeff.

Stillness engulfed the med room, no one dared say anything as they watched Gally moving (M/n)'s hair back, which had been sticking to his skin due to his sweat, and they saw how the frown on his brow faded at the feeling of Gally's touch.

Gally hated seeing (M/n) having bad dreams, and he hated that couldn't do anything to shoo them away, they had to leave on their own. Nobody dared say anything, they sat where they could, on the couch or the two other empty beds.

And because of the silence in the room, Winston found it hard to speak when he stopped by.

"Uh... Alby called a Gathering... He said is important," Minho, Fry and Gally lifted their sight and looked at Winston, sighing deeply and standing up, walking to the door. Gally wanted to refuse but he knew better, Alby knew how much he needed to stay with (M/n), and he still called a Gathering, it had to be a matter of life or death.

"Take care of him, guys..." They nodded and watched as the Keepers left.

They walked to the Gathering room, and saw all the Keepers already there, sitting on their chairs while Alby and Newt waited for them standing.

Gally made brief eye contact with Stan, who immediately looked away. He almost didn't recognize him with how swollen and purple his face looked, but it was him, the asshole aura won't ever leave him.

"Now we can start," with everyone sitting on their chairs, Alby stood proud in his place, looking at everyone with a serious expression, "Before we make our decisions about what to do, you'll have to hear... The truth about what really happened."

Alby looked at Clint, who stood up from his chair, "All that we saw yesterday, the wounds Peter had... Were fake."

Looks were exchanged between the Keepers, except Gally who kept his sight locked on Stan, making him shift in place, uncomfortable and scared.

"But the blood...?"

Clint shook his head, "I don't know where they got the blood, but there were no cuts, or even scratches, anywhere on his body," silently, Winston raised his hand to speak, and was given permission by Alby with a nod.

"I noticed the Blood House was missing a bucket of pig blood," a few felt like throwing up at the thought of being covered with animal blood, and Winston made a small 'sorry' gesture to those with weak stomachs, "And this morning I checked to see it was there again, but with half its original amount, so... That's where they got the blood from."

After that, everyone collectively decided what they would do, but Stan had no voice or vote on the matter. It was decided that all the Sloppers involved would be punished, but a punishment had yet to be decided.

Gally hadn't said a word, but had been paying attention, he was so furious about everything that happened that he couldn't stop glaring at Stan, watching him squirm and hiss whenever his broken nose would throb from the pain. After a few minutes, everything went silent and they all stared at Gally, waiting for him to say something, knowing he was the one affected the most about what happened to (M/n).

He stood up and crossed his arms, slowly making his way to stand in front of Stan. He stared him down and Stan tried to hold his stare, but he couldn't, looking down and away from Gally.

"This shank could drop dead, and I wouldn't care, so do whatever you want... Because I will kill him otherwise," something about Gally's reaction not being physically aggressive, or loudly vocal about his hate toward Stan, made everyone feel on edge, the air turning tense and suffocating.

They almost wished Gally would've done something to Stan- anything, but perhaps, with the way his face looked Gally had already gotten most of his anger out on him.

"(M/n) is more than important than that," with that, Gally dropped his arms to his side and walked out.

He stared at the med room for a second, before deciding to quickly stop by his room. He rummaged around the crates and bags with his clothes, and found a shirt that would fit (M/n). He couldn't leave him wearing a cut, ripped and bloodied shirt all day.

///////

Unfortunately, (M/n) remained unconscious the whole day, trembling and shaking while being a prisoner of his own mind. And Gally never left his side, taking care of him in any way he could, wiping the sweat off his skin, holding his hand, talking to him, anything that worked to ease the frown on his face.

After a few minutes of coming back, one by one the Gladers started leaving, having work to do, even if the Builders didn't have their Keeper, they still had Dmitri, who was taking care of them while Gally was unavailable watching over (M/n).

And seeing how he didn't have much to do, he carefully changed (M/n) into his new shirt, and sat back down on his chair, reaching for his pockets, taking out the wood pieces he would usually collect to carve something new, he was used to keeping a few of them, along with one of his smallest carving tools, and like that, he started working on something. Something for (M/n), and him.

While working on that, and alternating with checking on (M/n), Chuck had stopped by to bring Gally lunch, who tried to eat at least something, but it found hard to, and Chuck stayed there with them, observing what the blond was doing, intrigued.

"Gally?" He looked at Chuck without moving from his position, humming a small 'yeah?' in response, "Could you... Teach me?"

He realized how Chuck was staring at the wood in his hand, and how he fiddling with a piece of wood of his own, Gally smiled at him, "Come here," Chuck smiled widely and moved his chair closer to Gally, "What do you wanna make?"

"Just... Something for (M/n), for when he gets better."

While Gally helped Chuck, (M/n)'s mind worked and flashed images behind his closed eyelids, they were all scattered and out of order, but he managed to make out a few of them, like... Writing a note and sending the Box up. Walking underground in the sewers.

Just things that didn't really make much sense to him at the time, but one of those images he saw in his dreams stuck to him like glue. The anger that filled his body felt all too real to be just a dream, but he didn't know what else he could call it, he wasn't doing anything in particular, just staring at a few screens in front of him, displaying pictures of his friends, labelled as 'subjects'.

He looked around and froze when he spotted a picture of himself. Subject 0; The-.

The scenery changed before he could read the rest. He was in a room, one he recognized as his bedroom, mumbling to himself as he paced around back and forth, "I'll get you guys out of there... No matter the cost..."

He saw himself gathering files on a computer, and on paper files, using radio waves to connect to the frequency he needed, and beginning to talk to someone from the Right Arm. A group of people that went against what W.I.C.K.E.D was doing to all these young people, men and women alike. (M/n) gave them the information about various facilities and how to break in from the outside.

He was determined to help his friends get out alive, even people he didn't even know, not caring about what could happen to him if he was found out. He just wanted them to be safe from WCKD.

"W.I.C.K.E.D is good, (M/n)," he turned around at the sound of a guy's voice behind him, and something about him was familiar but also made him feel uneasy, on edge.

"No... No, they're not Thomas, you have to understand."

That name again...

"They'll be safe and we will take care of everyone, (M/n), you don't have to worry about nothing," lies... All you do is lie, Janson. His head throbbed in pain as he became aware of how everything Ava and Janson had told him was nothing else than filthy lies.

They knew he would never agree with their methods to... To what they were doing, so they lied to him. The worst part was that he had believed them for a while, until he saw it with his own two eyes. They were basically making kids kill each other in that place, he couldn't allow it, not anymore.

Not while he watched the screen in front of him, and stared at Gally running away from the Griever chasing him. "Autopilot mode off," he turned to look to his side, and there was the same guy he kept seeing in his dreams. He dreamt this scene before, "Thomas, stop...!"

The guy looked toward him, and spoke with an emotionless voice, "He needs you more than you need him, (M/n), but you need me as much as I need you. Maybe you'll understand now..."

//////

Gally said good night to Chuck, watching him take their food plates, barely even touched and Gally continued to braid the thin rope in his hands, tying one end to the opening of his wood carving. He made matching bracelets for both of them, and he was just finishing them.

He wanted to give it to (M/n) once he woke up, and he wondered how long that would take...

"No... No... Stop..." The breathy mumbles (M/n) let out caught his attention, Gally fumbled with the bracelet in his hand and, like he had been doing all day, he stood up from the chair and sat next to (M/n), soothing him the best he could, moving his hair away and caressing his face.

"It's okay, I'm here, bean... Everything's fine," (M/n) released a heavy sigh as his body relaxed and he leaned closer to Gally's touch, "I'm not leaving you again. I promise."

Gally stayed awake pretty much the whole night, constantly drying the sweat off of (M/n)'s face and neck, noticing how his wound bandages were getting wet because of it, and he thanked Jeff for teaching him how to change them and the gauze without ripping the stitches off, so he did that, all the while talking to (M/n), noticing it helped him calm down, as if his voice grounded him back to reality, away from the night terrors his mind showed him.

He could barely sleep, any noise (M/n) made caused him to stir awake, thinking maybe he finally woke up and would get better soon, but no, he was lying there, still unconscious.

[moss-bride]

Koi boi

Lawrence Oleander x femreader. Chapter 1

The world moves past them in the blink of an eye but it's languid here.

He gave up caring. Vitality leaves them behind 

At least it was that way until her. Years ago on a rainy day in mid October, the therapy circle was made of sad victims of life's hard downs. His sister (before he cut his family off) had forced him to go. He barely spoke a word as others around him shared stories he didn't care about hearing.

 He's staring at the clock, willing it to move so he can leave this farce.

Then she stood up. Behind her the wall was decorated with spiders and grinning ghosts. With big glasses and a warm smile she stopped him. Her expression strongly contrasted to her next words.

"I was born dead. The doctors revived me. I feel like I was never born at all.

Sometimes I wonder if it was wrong of them. I was supposed to die."

Moving her hands to express parts of her sentences

"Oblivion before observation. They took that from me. It's like I wasn't meant to be here, I feel it in my breath."

 a poem she had written. Short and free verse. And when he repeated it in his head as the group therapist told her to sit back down (demanding she explain. Explain. Always explain because people are greedy) he felt the poem and its writer understood him like no one before

She's still here, I didn't miss her. I almost missed her. She is still here and he doesn't know what he'd do if she'd already left. This is the one location where they can sit with each other and he's eager to get started. 

The only time he enjoys life is in the moments he catches sight of her between gaps of twin bookshelves. Where dust rains down on him and her head is bent down. Still as a statue.

There isn't an option to approach her like a normal person. He argued with himself on the semantics for months on end. Why can't I? Because there's a possibility he'll lose her. If he were to talk to her he would forfeit the freedom he gains from perception of others, there's a chance she won't feel the same as he does or need him the way he needs her 

And if that happens she'll call the cops to take him away and he would never see her again.

On the other hand, there is an voice in the back of his head demanding he be quick. This voice sees her thread, bright red and humming with life in all it's fleeting glory, ready to slip away from his at any given point. Urging for him to grab hold and pull. He hates the need of action. Hates his inaction.

It would be easy to grab her. No one except social services is in her life to report her immediately missing. But he won't. He's not a kidnapper. Sick and disgusting but surely he wouldn't -

 The walls are plain unassuming concrete smeared white. By the cracks you could tell it's a cheap paint spread thinly over bumps and crevasses so long ago. Zero cameras and empty of people except him, her and the librarian. 

Yet he can't he isn't that sick. Of course not he'd never.

He sees her standing at a bookshelf with her back towards him, searching through the horror section. Open windows, dark skies. The flickering light frames her downturned face with such care it leaves him nauseous. His shoulders untense though still fraught with nerves.

  His job he never strays from his apartments until he met her. Chasing her across the city like a dog for the short moments he can spare. Although he's gone to more places then he can count now, it never stops his nervous thoughts. While hiding behind trees and trash cans he's shaky and unsure of why he's there. 

She doesn't remember him from that day long ago. At least, he can't find any form of recognition in her eyes when they happen to see him. 

She sits a few seats away. Getting up occasionally to retrieve and put back books she finished. As is their usual routine though only he is aware of it.

She's standing so innocent and sightless to the world around. He thinks 'How amazing It would be if she was blind. She'd make the prettiest blind person.'

She's wearing the pretty brown skirt that he loves and a warm knitted sweater of what he knows to be her favorite color of a muted green, not the color of evergreens but a soft and warm moss that makes him want to bury his head in her chest and breathe everything she is into him.

Under the skirt he saw her slip on simple white underwear this morning, as well as some pretty warm stockings that slid up her leg, plain and unassuming. His face had pressed against the glass window as he wiped the fog caused by his heated breath to get a clearer look.

He's been staring like a creep, he dissolves into his seat, opening his book in the guise of reading. 

He's so alone but these brief moments spent each day with her makes him less so. Content. He watches her nonchalantly sort over books, pulling one out and skimming over its contents then, finally, notices him.

Those eyes shoot scalding water down his back.

He's stiff with anticipation choking him as she walks on by and chooses a seat in front of him, so close the nearness scalds his cheeks and has him flipping through book pages restlessly.

This is the closest he'll ever get to her while she's awake, his hands shake as she silently reads. Burnings a whole into the meeting of the pages until he swears there's the whiff of smoke from intense concentration.

Is it his imagination or did she just glance at him and smile? yes, it was a quick upturn of plump lips she directed at him so gently. it's for him, that smile is for him, an invitation to speak? Or a mocking gesture? Faces are terrible things that tear you apart but her smile confuses him. Sending him hiding behind the papers.

Her presence next to him sends hunger clutching and biting at his stomach, and he's not sure what he's supposed to do, really wants to talk to her but if he does he might blurt out something wrong and she'll never come near him again and if that happens he'll fucking kill himself. She could look at him and see his appearance and scoff.

No, she's perfect like this, unaware and silent as a grave. 

She fiddles with a button on her sweater, then writes something on the paper. Notes about her book he thinks but then to his surprise, she speaks. "Do you like Anja Albert?"

He blinked at the words. "Huh?"

She laughs lightly, for a horrified moment he thinks she's laughing at him. it's a strange coughy sound and points to the book he has open.

He fidgets in place. "Oh, yes." he don't know who she is. He got this book last week after he realized how often she checked it out. Over and over again in the course of two years, he thought that surely after being held by her so lovingly the book would permeate with her scent and he was correct, the barest hint of coconut and vanilla was evident on the worn pages that when he pressed his face to take in more he nearly came.

She beams at him.  "You have good taste. She's my favorite author! I'll let you get back to reading."

That short chat was just for a compliment. She takes her book and waves goodbye. He's frozen 

Watching her leave. Wishing he could make her stay. Without her here he has no reason to remain in public.

Walking home his gaze is frozen on the sidewalk replaying the conversation. The 'should haves' haunt him.

Next time their conversation will be longer. A novel notion. He's only ever wanted a conversation to end.

[samsexualdeancurious]

Sugar-Sweet

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Words: 1,014

Summary: Y/N and the Winchesters are wrapping up a hunt at a carnival.

Warnings: Fluff, smol case fic.

Written for an Angel request.

---

“I don’t know how you can eat that stuff,” you say, eyeing the bag of blue and pink cotton candy in Dean’s hand.

He shrugs and shoves more in his mouth, eyes never wavering from their lock on Sam. The younger Winchester is talking to a security guard, laying down a distraction so you and Dean can slip past to grab the cursed doll that’s sitting on the shelf of the carnival fortune teller’s tent.

“They’re on the move,” Dean announces around a mouthful of dissolving sugar as he stuffs his bag of candy in his pocket.

Sure enough, Sam and the security guard are walking. As soon as they’re out of sight, Dean loops his arm over your shoulders and pulls you along beside him towards the tent. You lean into him, laughing at nothing as you keep an eye out for more security guards. Most of them are towards the parking lot, though, as the carnival winds down for the night. There aren’t any in sight and soon Dean is lifting the flap of the tent to allow you inside.

The interior is dark for a moment as you slip your flashlight from the inner pocket of your jacket and turn it on. The pale beam illuminates an elaborately decorated red and gold interior, set up exactly as it was earlier in the day when you sat across the small round table from a trembling old lady wearing several pounds of costume jewelry and had your palms read. She’d rambled on about your love line while you nodded along. The floor is layered with rugs, plush underfoot, and every surface is draped with silky fabrics.

“Where’d you say the doll was?” Dean mutters. He stands close to you in the dark, not wanting to accidentally bump into something and make a mess. He’d fumbling with his own flashlight but it doesn’t turn on when he flips the switch or when he gives it an angry shake. “Fuck. should’ve checked this.”

You ignore your boyfriend’s grumbles and sweep the beam of the flashlight over the rugged bookshelf along the back wall of the tent. The shelves are packed full of props, some for use and some purely for aesthetics.

“Top shelf.”

You center the beam on the doll. It’s creepy as hell, burlap body and head with a lacy dress and button eyes. The dichotomy of the rough fabric skin with the flowery pastel and lace outfit alone gives you the creeps.

“I hate dolls,” you mumble while Dean wraps his hand in a rag and uses it to take the doll down.

Dean studies it and then turns the doll to face you. “Hello,” he says in a high-pitched voice, making the doll wave one arm.

You roll your eyes and Dean laughs, wrapping the doll up tightly before shoving it in his pocket.

--

Sam is waiting outside the tent.

“Got it?” he asks, keeping his voice low.

You nod.

“Good. I bought us some time but I’m not sure how much.”

Turns out, “some time” equates to “no time at all” because a new security guard comes into view right as Dean exits the tent behind you.

“Hey! You!”

“You had one job!” Dean shouts as he grabs your hand, the both of you already running.

“Fuck off,” Sam yells back.

Thank god the fortune teller’s tent is on the edge of the carnival, closest to the street where Dean parked the Impala. You’re sliding into the backseat and the engine is roaring to life long before the security guard can catch up.

Dean whoops, steering the Impala out onto the main streets and into traffic. Sam lets out a laugh at his brother’s antics and you can’t help but echo it with one of your own.

“Time to find somewhere to burn this thing.” Dean pulls the doll from his pocket.

Sam takes it, careful not to touch it with his bare hands. “Should probably get out of town while we’re at it.”

You slump sideways in the backseat. Your racing heart is calming down, the adrenaline leaving your veins. You hate to have almost gotten caught - and for a doll, of all things - but you can’t deny that the adrenaline rush is fun. Still, it shouldn’t have happened. “I call being the distraction next time.”

“I don’t like that,” Dean grumbles.

“I can guarantee I can do a better job than Sam,” you point out.

“Hey!” Sam shoots you a glare with no heat to it. “I even took the time to knock the guy out and tie him up. How was I supposed to know there was another one hanging around?”

“That’s the lookout’s job!”

“I wasn’t the lookout, though! I was the distraction! Two different things. Dean should’ve stayed outside the tent to be lookout.”

You can’t argue with that one. “True. He didn’t even have a working flashlight.”

Sam laughs as Dean’s cheeks flush.

--

Dean drives until well outside the city limits, where he pulls off onto a side road and finds a place to park.

“Let’s burn this thing before one of us accidentally touches it,” he says, eyeing the doll that Sam’s still holding on to.

The burn process is a relatively quick one. Cursed objects, unlike ghosts, don’t usually fight back when facing destruction and the doll is no different. You can’t suppress a shiver when you watch it go up in flames, though.

“Good riddance,” you sigh, leaning against Dean’s side. The night air is chilly but his arm around you is warm and when he leans down to kiss your cheek, his lips are still sticky from the cotton candy. You jerk away with a grossed-out noise and Dean laughs, chasing after you. Sam moves out of the way, rolling his eyes as he kicks dirt over the dying fire.

Dean catches you by the driver’s door of the Impala, arms tight around your middle as he finally presses his lips to your own. You give in, returning the kiss, and can’t deny that you enjoy how sugar-sweet his mouth tastes.

—

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—

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[lokis-army-77]

Zodiac

Edward Nashton x f!reader

Dano riddler x f!reader

Word Count: 2257

Set before the events of The Batman, the reader bumps into a man in the library who is looking for books on the Zodiac Killer.

Based on how Paul Dano and Matt Reeves were inspired by the Zodiac for the Riddler.

Warning: none

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Gotham Public Library is a quiet place, mainly because no one ever came in. If we ever did receive patrons, it wasn't for books, it was because they were trying to escape the near-constant rain. Today was one of those days. Thunder clashed around the city. Sometimes it was loud enough to shake the giant glass chandelier in the entryway, just above the help desk.

I was upstairs, reshelving the recently returned non-fiction books when someone came rushing around the corner, knocking into me. Losing my balance, as I was standing on my tip-toes to reach the top shelf, I fell to the ground, a book crashing down next to me.

"Oh goodness, I'm so sorry. I really didn't see you right there." A soft, worried voice apologized above me.

"No, no, it's alright. No bones or books are broken so everything is fine," I laughed out, placing my hands on the floor to start pushing myself up. I was stopped by a hand reaching out.

"Here, let me help you," The voice said.

I placed my hand in the outstretched one and then I finally looked up at who had crashed into me. He had a shaggy mop of light brown hair covering his eyes making it to where I couldn’t see them. Although, I could tell he was wearing clear framed glasses. His dark green rain jacket was dripping water all over the floor and his free hand was holding a soggy piece of paper.

"Thank you," I said once I was sturdily back on two feet. He moved the hair from his face and I was now able to see green eyes staring back at me from behind his lenses.

"Uh, you're welcome." His voice sounded a little nervous now and his face was beginning to deepen into a red color.

“Did you have anything specific you were looking for? If so, I would love to help you find it.” I looked up at him, watching him struggle for words. He stayed quiet for a while, staring at me before I raised my eyebrows in question, trying to urge the words out of him.

“Oh, um, here.” He quickly handed me the wet paper that was in his hand and I turned it over to read what was written there. The pen markings were bleeding over the paper but I could make out what his scribblings said.

“Ah, the Zodiac Killer, I know where those books are, follow me.” I started walking slowly through the stacks, looking for the aisle where the true crime books were kept. “So, why are you interested in the Zodiac Killer, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I, uh, it’s just some research.” His voice went up in pitch, almost like he was unsure and asking a question.

“That’s interesting. This is one of my favorite true crime cases of all time. I think it was cool how he used all those ciphers.” We turned into an aisle and I gestured to a bookshelf in front of me, “Here we are, the 364s, Zodiac Killer books.” I turned around to face him, “Do you need anything else?”

“No, I don’t think so. Thank you.” He awkwardly fiddled with his hands. I smiled, his nervousness made him seem really cute, it also helped that he wasn’t bad-looking.

“Well, if you need anything, I’ll be over that way,” I said, pointing in the direction we had come from. “Don’t hesitate to come and find me.” I turned and started to walk back down the aisle when his voice called after me.

“Actually, which of these would you recommend?”

“Well,” I made my way back to him, stopping right next to him, almost touching. “It depends on what you want, but since you are doing research, I would say that Hunter Among the Stars by John Robert Jordan would be a great one to start with. It’s lesser-known but it is really in-depth, I actually gave it a five-star review.” I pulled out the red-covered book and handed it over to the man. “Oh, there is also this one,” I pulled another book out, “This is the Zodiac Speaking by Kelleher and Nuysd. It’s also a good one that delves into the mind of the Zodiac.”

“Wow, thank you. You seem to know a lot about this.”

“Yeah, I do. It’s my thing, I love pouring over unsolved true crime, especially when there are riddles and things like that involved. I mean, if you are going to kill someone and never get caught, at least make it fun for the ones trying to solve it years down the road.” I laughed.

He laughed at my comment as well, it was a sweet sound, something I would like to hear again. “That was funny, I never thought of it like that before.” He paused for a second. “Um, so, you like riddles?”

“Oh, I love riddles.” He turned to me, wide-eyed.

“I love riddles too.”

“Oh well, in that case, hit me with one.” I challenged.

“What disappears as soon as you say its name?” He asked and I pondered for a second before spitting out the answer.

“Silence. Come one,” I paused, realizing I had never gotten his name.

“Edward.”

“Edward, I like it, it fits you. Now, Edward, I think you can give me a harder one than that.”

“Okay then, what is there one of in every corner and two of in every room?” He smiled widely.

I mumbled the riddle over twice before I figured it out, realizing it wasn’t something physical but in the words themselves. “The letter O,” I said confidently.

“Yeah, that’s right. You’re good at these, I’ll have to think of some harder ones next time.”

“Next time?” I asked. His eyes widened and his face deepened in color, embarrassed by his own insinuation that there would be a next time.

“I should go now. Um, thank you for your help.” The words jumbled together on their way out as he speedily turned about and started down the aisle, leaving me alone in the stacks.

The next time I saw Edward was four days later on Saturday evening. I was working the later shift, being one of only two people working at six this night. We still had an hour until we closed down for the night and I was busy sweeping around the front desk.

I heard the large front doors open and close but no one came into my eye line. I walked away from the desk and peeked around the wall that led into the front foyer. There he was, looking much the same as he did on Tuesday, just less wet.

“Edward!” I called out. “You’re back so soon.” I watched as he spun around on his heels to meet my gaze, he looked startled to see me.

“Oh, I, uh, I came to return these.” He said, holding up the two books he checked out.

“Well, I can check them in real quick. Come on, bring them in here.” I walked back to the desk and around to the computer. Edward followed shortly after, sliding the two books onto the counter. “So, how did you like them?” Enthusiasms seeped through my words.

“They were good, lots of information I can use for my research.”

“That’s wonderful. Are you looking for anything similar today or were you just returning?” I asked, hoping he would need help finding something again. I liked being around him, even though we had only met one time before, he felt safe and familiar.

“I came to find some new ones but I also wanted to ask you something.” He fiddled with his fingers as he talked, never looking me directly in the eye.

“Okay, what is it you wanted to ask me?” My stomach flipped at the thought of what he might ask.

“I never got your name Tuesday.”

“Oh.” My excitement visibly deflated when I realized the cute man in front of me wasn’t going to ask me on a date where I would, clichely, be swiped off my feet. Shaking the romance book plot from my head, I told him my name.

He smiled, green eyes shining as he repeated my name. “Do you have any more books like those last two? They don’t have to be zodiac related.”

“Yeah, we have plenty back upstairs where I took you last time. Do you want me to show you again?”

“Yes, please.”

“Hold on one sec, I have to tell Susan I am leaving the front.” I scurried over to the office door and knocked, startling the older, gray-haired woman at the computer.

“Hey Sue, I’m headed up to non-fiction with a patron, do you mind watching the front?’

She gave me a nod. I turned, not waiting for her to stand from her chair, and walked back to where Edward was. HE followed me up the stairs quietly and back into the Non-fiction stacks.

I perused the selection of books we had and picked out a couple I thought he might enjoy. Still hung up on the fact that he didn’t ask me out I cleared my throat and decided to ask for myself.

“Hey, I’m usually never this straightforward, but I just want to know if you might want to go out sometime?”

He raised his right hand to rub the back of his neck. Looking down at his feet, he nodded. “I’d like that.” His voice was soft and sweet.

“Great!” I almost squealed in excitement as I handed him the books I had picked out.

“I’m free Monday if you want to go then,” I suggested as we started making our way back downstairs.

Once we were back at the front desk, I sent Sue back into the office and scanned out Edward’s books. I also grabbed a post-it note and wrote down my phone number and address, sticking it on top of the small stack of books as I pushed them across the counter into his waiting hands.

“I’ll see you Monday, pick me up at seven at that address,” I pointed to the note. “Bye Eddie.”

“Bye.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he walked away. I brought my hand up to wave after him as he disappeared around the corner.

We had texted a lot the Sunday following, but when Monday came I waited and waited but Edward never showed. I texted him five minutes before the clock hit seven and five minutes after. Then five minutes became ten and ten became an hour. I texted him a few more times asking if he was okay, but nothing, radio silence.

Instead of dwelling on the events that had come to pass, I decided to throw off my date clothes and put on my oversized pajamas, bundle up on my couch, and watch a few streams online.

I browsed through some of the streams, not quite finding anything I wanted to listen to or watch until I came across a specific link that just said ‘RIDDLER’. Being the person that I am, I clicked it and was transferred to a new page.

There, sat in a dimly lit room, was a man. He was dressed in an olive green jacket and his face was hidden by some type of green mask. I had seemingly joined the stream closer to the end as the man was saying his thanks to all the viewers that had joined and that he would be streaming again on Wednesday. His voice has a short of gravel to it, it was familiar, but I was sure I had never heard his voice before.

As I sat there struggling to figure out where I might possibly have known this voice from, he said something that echoed in the back of my mind.

“I'll leave you all with a quote from someone I met the other day. I quite like and think it suits our cause perfectly. If you’re going to kill someone and not get caught, at least make it fun for the ones trying to solve it. Good night everyone.” He waved to the camera and the screen suddenly went black.

My eyes were wide, it was Eddie, I knew it was. I had said that exact same thing to him the other day. What cause was he talking about? What was he planning? I had so many questions. Did it have anything to do with the research he was doing on these cold cases I recommended books for? I was only mildly worried, who knew what it could be, there was no point in thinking of the worst.

When I closed my laptop, my phone buzzed beside me. A text flashed across the screen.

Hey, I’m sorry I missed our date. I meant to call and tell you that I had a meeting come up that would cause me to stay at work later than I would usually be here.

That’s okay Eddie, I understand.

Maybe we could go out tomorrow? I can pick you up from work.

Sure, I can pull some strings and get off earlier. Good night Eddie

Good night

I don’t know what it was that possessed me to agree to meet him again after so clearly being stood up for something that obviously wasn’t work relates if, in fact, that was Edward behind the mask. Maybe tomorrow I’ll ask him what the Riddler business is about. Maybe it’s something I would be interested in too, just maybe.

Riddler tag list: @caterpillerxd @sagexsenorita @the-goon-tm @trelaney

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Hello! I'm in love with the way you write c! Ranboo like hsgsj- amazing! So I would like a request Yandare c! Ranboo and tubbo with a soft reader that is oblivious on how they act twords them but loves them unconditionaly (just fluff please maybe maybe put a Micheal seen in there as well because Micheal is the best character 😌)

I think this is the best compliment I have ever received... Thank you so much🤍🖤

I didn't know whether or not to do headcanons or a full-length fic, so I went with a shorter story if that's alright. ^^ if it's not feel free to send another request!

FYI THIS CAN BE SEEN AS PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC

Too Sweet (For This World) Yandere!C!Ranboo x F!Reader x Yandere!C!Tubbo

It was very common for you to see something out of the corner of your eye, but when you looked, you only saw a bunch of purple particles drifting slowly towards the earth due to gravity. You just assumed there were quite a few endermen still hanging around Snowchester, or some of the goats had come down from the mountains when you saw small little horns peeking out from behind bushes.

There were a couple times a day where you accidentally and very conveniently bumped into Ranboo out in the crater of L'Manberg or Tubbo when walking around Snowchester. It honestly was funny to you that you always seemed to bump into them when you were feeling sad or lonely. Plus, after talking to them and spending time with them, your problems almost magically seemed to disappear!

Such as, there was one time when you were helping clean up the red vines around buildings and Fundy was nagging at you for being so slow or bad at doing everything. After storming away and ranting to Ranboo about it on the verge of tears, Fundy practically scrambled up to you the next day shaking and almost crying, apologizing for every single thing he's ever said or done.

Huh... Maybe he felt that bad about it to the point where he was crying?

Although Fundy never said anything mean to you again, he also stopped hanging around you completely.

When you mentioned this to Tubbo, he explained that Fundy must not have been a real friend and that he and Ranboo would always be there for you before anyone else.

Once the mansion was built, the two platonic husbands eagerly invited you to stay with them, even saying they had Foolish make a room specifically for you! At first, you quite enjoyed your home around L'manberg, but then one day you returned home to a wall of your home completely destroyed by vines, deeming it unlivable. Although a tad convenient..

Tubbo and Ranboo had heard about it through your sobs when you called them, saying you had no clue what to do anymore. They had arrived at your side in almost minutes and quickly helped you pack and move everything to the mansion.

"I thought Snowchester was like... Half a day's walk away from here..." You sniffed, rubbing your red and puffy eyes. The two men of greatly varying heights tensed up momentarily.

"We were in the area." They both blurted out at the same time before glancing at each other.

Tubbo cleared his throat first, "I was in the nether, but luckily for you, I was close to the old L'manberg portal!" He smiled softly at you as you three walked away from your old home.

"M-Me too!" Ranboo coughed awkwardly, causing Tubbo to shoot him an odd look that you decided to brush off, "Now, uh, come on! Michael needs to meet his new mother!"

You blinked in surprise at the new title but didn't question it much, assuming it was simply just a title. Unbeknownst to you, your two best friends already thought you were part of their platonic relationship, despite you never agreeing nor denying, or them even asking.

It took a few days, but the zombie piglin warmed up to you and practically saw you as another one of his parents, which made Ranboo and Tubbo extremely happy. Instead of placing you into one of the regular rooms, they had Foolish turn the basement into two heavily secured rooms a few days before your house had been destroyed, strangely enough, and even designed one perfectly to your liking!

After washing the fruits you had, you walked towards the bookshelf and pulled on the fake book that caused the shelf to swing open. You walked down the quartz stairs after shutting the hidden door, then made your way up to one of the two doors with a pink sign with 'Michael' written in yellow cursive paint. Punching in the code, the iron door slid open and you stepped in before closing it behind you.

A loud cooing grunt was heard and the sound of quiet tapping echoed through the room before a pair of arms wrapped around your leg. "Hello, Michael." You giggled softly as Michael made grabbing hands up towards the bowl of fruit. Placing it down on the table, the child eagerly ran over and began munching on the food as you brushed over the books on the shelves to find one you haven't read to Michael before. "What about... The story of Persephone?"

A disappointed grunt was your only response.

"Guess I did read that one... Hm... Oh! What about the story of Icarus?" This time his response was a happy squeak and tippy taps of his hooves against the warm quartz floors. You sat down in the rocking chair and waited until the child scrambled over and jumped into your lap.

You opened the book and began reading to him for an hour until your eyes slowly slid shut to the quiet snores of the child of your two best friends, who at this point was beginning to see you as a mother.

Quiet 'meh' sounds and 'vrrr'ing noises and a dim flash woke you up from your spot in the rocking chair. Cracking open your eyes, your arms shifted around the nether hybrid as you saw Tubbo holding a camera making happy bleating noises, while Ranboo, who was the source of the buzzing noises, took the book you had been reading from your limp hand to put it back on the shelf.

"What time is it?" You murmured softly to keep the child asleep as you rubbed the back of your stiff and sore neck.

"It's about 5:30pm. Still rather early. Tubbo walked over and gave you a gentle yet affectionate headbutt while he scooped Michael up from your lap to bring him to bed. This caused an odd whining noise to come from the enderman hybrid before he quickly walked over and rested his forehead against yours, resting it there for a few moments before pulling back, his cheeks flushed the same colours as his eyes.

You giggled softly and gave him a gentle pat on the head as he helped you up. He held onto one of your hands as Tubbo eagerly went for the other, jokingly sticking his tongue out at Ranboo who gave a noise of mock offense, causing you three to giggle softly as you left Michael's room and went upstairs.

Tubbo and Ranboo weren't big fans of you leaving the basement on your own, and you were rarely allowed to leave the mansion even with the two boys at your sides. The former president told you it was because he heard rumours of Technoblade searching around for all the members of his cabinet back when he was in charge of L'Manberg, and he just wanted to protect you.

You saw no problems with his story as it was extremely believable. Your history with Technoblade hadn't been the cleanest and he would've definitely taken one of your canon lives back during the attack on L'Manberg, had a stray black and white firework not saved you that day. It had fired off and must've swerved a way that wasn't predicted, because it hit Technoblade hard enough in the chest to knock him away from you.

You don't remember much of that day, except for Ranboo immediately running over to you and dragging you away from the destruction and chaos. Thanks to him, you were almost completely scar free and standing proudly at three canons lives.

A gentle hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality and you saw two sets of eyes staring at you with concern. "Hey... Are you feeling okay?" Ranboo asked softly, tilting your head up to place his free hand against your forehead, "See. I told you she should be getting more sunlight, Tubbo!"

"I'm okay, I'm okay!" You laughed softly at their worry, rubbing your thumbs along the back of their hands, "Just... Remembering the war with Dream and Techno..."

"What about it?" Tubbo asked, bringing you into the living room to sit down with your friends on either side of you.

You pursed your lips together for a moment as you looked at the ground, "Just how... Scary Techno is. And how he was about to kill me without a care about who or what I was."

Angered growling and seething noises came from Ranboo and Tubbo as you felt their grasps tighten around your hands, almost to a painful degree. You looked up and saw their expressions stone-cold and steely although vastly different from each other.

Ranboo's green eye was purple, and the black tone of his skin was beginning to seep into the side with the lack of colour. The corners of his mouth were slowly splitting open wider and wider as his lips parted, allowing you to see the glowing purple colour inside his mouth.

Tubbo's was less obvious. His eyes were blank but also had a bright fire, one burning for revenge, reflected in them. His ears weren't flicking and neither was his tail, his entire body stiff except for a faint sound giving away the fact that his teeth were grinding together.

As much as you tried to endure it, the grip became too harsh and you couldn't help but give a small pained gasp. This caused all physical contact with you to suddenly vanish as the two boys immediately flung themselves away from you, horror and fear in their eyes.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!"

"Are you okay?! Do you need an ice pack?!"

"Or a bandage from my claws?!"

They were both kneeling on the ground in front of you with both of your hands in their grasps again. They repeatedly turned your hands in their own, testing the joints and checking for marks or bruising. "Boys, boys!" You laughed softly, placing your hands on their heads to ruffle their hair gently. You pulled your left hand adorned with two beautiful rings and held it up for them to see, flexing it and moving it around, "See? Perfectly fine. No pain whatsoever!"

While they seemed to have calmed down a lot, they still seemed to be extremely upset and guilty. "I'm still going to get an ice pack... We don't want our wife to be injured..." Tubbo murmured as he quickly got up and walked towards the kitchen.

"I will get started on dinner. And as an apology, I'm making your favourite. (F/f)." Ranboo tried to be a little more upbeat than Tubbo, but you could still see the small amounts of guilt as he turned and followed after the goat hybrid.

Sighing softly at their overreactions, you leaned back against the couch...

Before doing a double-take.

Adorned with rings?!

You quickly flung yourself forward again and looked at your left hand. On your ring finger were two diamond rings, one gold with a green gemstone, and the other silver with a black gemstone, both glistening a faint purple from enchantments...

...

When did these get put on you- wait... Did Tubbo say... wife?

[hxseok-honee]

sundress || part 9

written portion under the cut!

sundress [part 9] || "I like it."

previous || masterlist || next

a/n : [when you’re close to me, i can’t breathe // we’re already six feet deep] fuck up the friendship x leah kate

taglist [open] :

@deepseavibez @thetrueghostqueen @reddeathraven @dingzerenistall @skyrro @unadulteratedlyunique @ramyagovindraj @itismochirice @wwhseokjin @drpepperobsessed @monamone @thekookiecorner @army-moa75 @burningupp-replies @lele-bb @pb-n-juju @red-kebab @heonsbebe @peachyyoongs @superloverpielamp @marifujioka @butterflylion @heyitsgigi @lochness-butmakeitsexy @miki-chi @cahowlkook @worshiphoseok @lilacdreams-00 @bongsbeforebibles @miriamxsworld @oasiswithmyg @peonyplace @annewrighthglc @calling-dips-on-j-hope @yoongiofmine @loveyoongles @instantspot @missmadwoman @x-xjaeminx-x @luvtaeha @vanillxangxl @renhold-nightspear @taeshuworld @lvrseok @supahumbreon @a-noona-mous

_______________________________

Monday, 20 September, 10:01am

“I sit through that class every morning, and I don’t think there’s a single thing I remember about it.” Yoongi runs his fingers through his hair as he exits the Charms classroom, free hand attached to Y/n’s hip. They hover in the doorway, waiting for Jin and Tae to join them, and then the four of them are headed down the corridor to their next class. Yoongi can feel his roommate’s eyes on him and Y/n, and when he glances over his shoulder, he finds that both Jin and Tae are looking with intrigue at the arm he’s got wrapped around Y/n.

“What?” They look up, Y/n glancing back to see what’s happening. Jin clears his throat, shaking his head, and Tae just smiles, a toothy grin that’s more than a little sheepish.

“It’s just… a bit weird, still -- seeing you two together. We’re getting used to it.” Jin nods before pointing between the two of them, eyes guarded.

“As long as I don’t have to accidentally walk in on you two getting freaky in the room, I don’t care what you do. But…” He trails off, glancing down at Yoongi’s arm again, an amused smirk dancing on his lips. “Yeah. Getting used to it.”

“You look good, though! You guys are a good match.” Tae gestures with both hands, the paperback book in his hold flapping obnoxiously as he tries to make sure he and Jin aren’t being misunderstood. “It’s cute -- we all like it. You know, except Jungkook.” Yoongi snorts, shaking his head.

“I really couldn’t care less what he thinks about it.” A lie, of course -- otherwise Yoongi wouldn’t be doing this at all. He wants to make Jeon Jungkook pay, just as Y/n does, but their friends don’t need to know that.

They reach an intersection then, Tae and Jin branching off to the right. They glance back when Yoongi doesn’t follow, and he points simply down the corridor on their left.

“I’m gonna walk Y/n to her next class -- see you guys at lunch?” Y/n looks at him, surprised he’s not heading to his own class. She waits until their friends are waving goodbye before she’s saying anything.

“You’re gonna be late…” Yoongi shrugs, guiding her down the left-hand corridor toward her Transfiguration classroom, his arm tight around her waist.

“So, I’ll run.” Y/n rolls her eyes with a scoff, but lets him walk her to class, anyway. She pretends she can’t see everyone in the corridor looking at them, just as they had been all morning. After all, once news had broken that Min Yoongi was no longer available, people couldn’t help but be curious. But Yoongi hasn’t said a thing about it, so she won’t either -- even if it is a little nerve-wracking.

When they get to her class, the very last one at the end of the corridor, Y/n turns to him, eyes suspicious.

“You better not use this as an excuse to skip your own class and go back to bed. You still have enough time to make it there.” Yoongi grins, shaking his head.

“You know me too well.” With a smile, she steps in and presses her lips to his in a quick peck. She would have tried to stay longer, but she can still feel everyone looking at them, and she’d panicked just a little bit. That’s a lot of eyes on them at once, and she figures a chaste kiss is acceptable enough that she can run into the safety of her classroom afterward without seeming like she’s avoiding his affection.

But as she’s turning to leave, a soft ‘see you later’ leaving her, she feels a hand on her elbow, pulling her back. Yoongi’s giving her a knowing look, tugging her close to him with an amused smile. When she’s close enough, he’s mumbling to her, fully aware of what’s been bothering her.

“You can do better than that.” Nervously, she’s glancing over his shoulder, but he’s tutting quietly, drawing her back. “Don’t look at them -- look at me.” She looks at him for just a moment, trying to build the courage to kiss him properly. It comes to her, and she’s stepping right up to him, hand on the side of his neck when she leans in.

Yoongi’s grip on her waist tightens when her lips find his, and he’s pressing forward right away, making sure to keep her focus on him. His free hand comes up and his fingers are threading through her hair, holding her still while he angles his head, molding his lips to hers more comfortably.

She pulls away first, ears tinting red almost immediately because she can tell everyone had seen that -- that they’re already whispering about them. But Yoongi makes it deceptively difficult for her to get carried away by the attention, tilting his head to block her view of the corridor with a playful smile.

“Good girl.” He’d meant it innocently -- she knows he’d meant it innocently. He’d only been praising her for not letting the embarrassment get to her, for doing it right that time. But he doesn’t know how those words affect her -- or… rather, he didn’t.

Because he catches it. He’s close enough, and his eyes are on her. There’s no way he’d miss the way her eyes had widened, even though she’s quick to mask it, or the purse of her lips -- the catch of her breath, almost imperceptible.

And then he’s narrowing his eyes at her, gaze flitting around her face, trying to pinpoint what had just happened. He puts it together easily, the side of his mouth tilting up as he gives her a knowing look. He wants her to say it, so he’s certain -- so this is something that can be shared between them, not something she’s too embarrassed to tell him.

“What was that?” Y/n blinks, shaking her head as she takes a step back, putting distance between them. He only steps forward to close the gap again. “No… something definitely just happened to you.” She shakes her head again, pointing over her shoulder into her class.

“Nope. That was nothing--I mean. Nothing happened, there was nothing.” She backs away further, jumping when she bumps into the corner of the wall. Yoongi only tilts his head with a squint, a full smirk on his features now.

“You know I’m not gonna let this go, right?”

“Go to class, Yoongi!” And then she’s gone, all but running into her classroom in a panic. Yoongi snickers, shaking his head as he turns and heads down the corridor, pocketing that interesting bit of information for later.

--

Monday, 20 September, 4:15pm

Y/n’s in the library, eyes scanning the shelf in front of her as she searches for the book title Hoseok had sent her. It’s something that has a chapter on the Wiggentree, which is what they’d chosen their project topic as for Herbology.

I’m definitely in the right aisle… Maybe I’m just missing it?

She moves to return to her starting place in the otherwise empty aisle, convinced she’ll find it if she just looks again. But she doesn’t make it far, a hand coming down on the shelf and blocking her. She’d been too focused on scanning the books to even notice that he’d arrived. But she certainly notices him now.

“So -- you like ‘good girl’?” Turning as the words are whispered into her ear, Y/n all but stumbles backward into the bookshelf, eyes wide as she finds Yoongi peering back at her. He’s squinting at her, just as he had this morning, as he searches her face for a reaction. Blinking rapidly, she glances down the aisle, worried someone might find them like this.

“Yoongi, what -- you can’t just sneak up on me like that!” Her voice is hushed, because she’s aware this is a library and even more aware that it’s full to the brim, having seen almost every seat taken when she’d walked through the room. The chances of them not getting caught are slim to none.

But Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind, only stepping in and further blocking her way out. She scoots back as much as possible, but there’s only so far she can go with her back pressed against a wall of books.

“No one forced you to tell me that you were here.” Y/n sighs, because she should have seen this coming. He’d been totally fine all day, holding her hand at lunch and walking her to class after, never saying a word about what had happened this morning. Even during their free period, they’d just taken a nap in his bed -- everything had been normal.

So when he’d texted her asking where she was, she hadn’t thought twice to tell him about the book she’s been looking for. She should have known he’d bring it up again -- he’d even said he would. But she hadn’t expected it to be here, in such a public place.

Maybe I should have. This is Yoongi.

When she doesn’t say anything, Yoongi leans in, setting his lips against the shell of her ear.

“What else do you like to be called, hm?” Flushing red, Y/n plants her hand on his chest, intending to push him away. But he’s already pulling back, just enough that their noses are brushing while he looks into her eyes. She hates that he’s smirking, because he knows she’s flustered.

“You know you should just tell me -- I’ll figure it out for myself eventually.” He’s fully aware she won’t say a word, already seeing that her jaw is clenching, mouth set in a hard line.

“I’m not telling you shit.” He raises an eyebrow, thoroughly amused by her disgruntled expression.

“No? That’s okay. I’ll just get it out of you later, pretty girl.” Y/n blinks rapidly when her heart jumps and grimaces, because he’s testing her right here in the middle of this library. And she knows when he smiles that she’s failed.

“Got you.” Y/n rolls her eyes, cheeks warm from how embarrassed she feels, and moves to push past him so she can leave -- she’ll just find the book later. But Yoongi’s in her way, a playful smile on his face. “You still haven’t told me if you like ‘good girl’.” She shoots him a wild look.

“You know the answer to that.” And then she’s looking away, because his eyes are lighting up and she’s not sure how she’s supposed to feel about that -- mostly, she’s not sure why it doesn’t bother her that he’s excited about this. “Can I go?” He smiles, humming in faux contemplation.

“Nope. I wanna hear it from your mouth.” She turns to him, exasperated, because he’s being obnoxious and he knows it. But he doesn’t let up, only pressing forward until she’s backed against the shelf again. “Come on… it’s just a couple words -- say them and I’ll let you go back to your project.”

When she only glares at him, he hums again, a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Okay, then.” And then he’s leaning forward, slotting his lips against hers roughly, muffling the noise of surprise that leaves her. She pushes him back just enough that their lips part, eyeing him with shock.

“What are you doing? We’re alone--”

“Are we?” She blinks, knowing what he means -- that there are eyes everywhere, that what they’re doing is okay because they are in public, even if the aisle’s empty. Because this is exactly what it's like to date Min Yoongi, so it's okay. Everything they're doing and saying right now -- this is how it's supposed to look to anyone that comes across them.

He looks her over, checking that she’s alright -- that she’s not upset.

“… Can I go back to being the sexy boyfriend that corners you in the library to convince you with my mouth to tell me what I want to hear? Or do you want to stop? Because I’ll stop.” Y/n snorts, shaking her head. He’s careful as always, but if she’s honest -- she doesn’t really mind this all that much. She’d agreed to it, after all. So instead of telling him that this is fine -- that they’re fine -- she continues the previous conversation.

“You’re not gonna convince me to say it, no matter what you do.” He looks at her sideways, smirking, and she immediately regrets having worded it like that because she can already see Yoongi’s competitive side making an appearance.

“Is that a challenge?” When she only rolls her eyes, he leans in, stopping just shy of her mouth and waiting, just in case she doesn’t want to do this. She doesn’t move, gaze only flicking down quickly to his lips and back again. He tries his best to mask the smile that threatens to form on his face, but even as he closes the gap, it’s there.

He kisses her once, then leans back to talk to her.

“Say it.” She smiles, eyes full of mischief.

“Say what?” He kisses her again.

“Say it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Again.

“I could do this all day, Y/n.”

“No, you can’t. You hate missing dinner -- you like the dessert too much.” He sighs impatiently, setting his hands on her hips and pulling her in. The kiss he lays on her lips is different than the last few, this one made to leave her breathless. She hates that it does.

Without pulling away, he gauges her reaction, noticing immediately that she’s grabbing at the front of his uniform, almost as if to ground herself after something so unexpected. He doesn’t give her time to recover, pulling at her bottom lip with his teeth. When she inhales sharply, he pushes his tongue past her lips, licking into her mouth -- she whines, the sound immediately cutting off because she’s realizing that they’re still in the library.

Yoongi only smirks, finding it cute that she’s so aware of her surroundings. But he wants her completely out of it, thinking either about him or nothing at all. So he brings one hand up to the back of her head, where he’s taking a fistful of her hair and tugging harshly, forcing her mouth away from his as her head gets angled to the side. That whine comes again, but she’s definitely already more dazed than before, because she doesn’t stop it from happening. Her head is spinning too fast, the feeling turning to pure white noise when Yoongi attaches his mouth to a spot under her ear, his lips searing hot against her skin.

“Yoongi…” She breathes out his name, clinging to him like she’s going to fall over if she doesn’t. Yoongi tells himself that that’s why he presses himself flush to her, sliding his free hand down to her ass and pushing her hips forward into his -- because he wants to help steady her. It has nothing to do with hearing her call for him like that. Nothing at all to do with the reaction it draws out of her when he does, that breathy moan he’d secretly been looking for. Pulling his lips from her neck, he drags them up to her ear, not even noticing how hard he’s breathing.

“Now do you wanna tell me?” She doesn’t respond, whining incoherently. Yoongi sees out of the corner his eye that someone’s turning into the aisle. When they stop short and immediately turn to leave, he’s smiling, because they’d just gotten caught and Y/n has no idea. She’s too busy trying to catch her breath -- trying to come to her senses. Yoongi’s having none of it.

Using the hold he has on her hair, he brings her toward him, smushing his lips to hers -- it’s not as rough as she’d been expecting, but it takes her breath away all the same. Just like the first one. She whimpers against his lips, and it warms him -- the idea that even this is enough to make her feel good. He wonders if she actually prefers when he’s soft with her -- he’ll have to explore that more later.

Pulling his lips away from her, he watches her. The way she doesn’t open her eyes right away or even notice that he’s waiting for her. She just leans her head back against the hand in her hair, and Yoongi steadies her, smiling at how dazed she is. He shakes that hand gently, jostling her, and that’s when she’s opening her eyes, realizing he hasn’t done anything in a few seconds. They make eye contact, Y/n trying to blink her way out of the fog in her head.

“Don’t you want this to end already? Wouldn’t you rather go back to finding your book before we have to go to dinner?” She nods automatically, even though there’s a small part of her that hesitates first -- it must be because she’s too out of it to process his questions right away. When she doesn’t meet Yoongi’s eyes for a few seconds, he’s pulling at her hair again, drawing her attention. And when her gaze finally lifts to his--

“Then be a good girl and tell me you like it.” Yoongi watches as she reacts -- as she breaks. As her lips part in a small gasp, her eyelids fluttering as she looks at him. As the hold she has on the front of his shirt tightens, her knuckles almost white. It’s the first time he’s ever seen this side of her -- the first time he’s ever seen her give in like this. He almost feels bad for how proud he is that she’s like this because of him.

But then she’s saying it -- what he’s wanted to hear from her all day. She doesn’t say all of it, but she doesn’t need to. Just those three words are enough to make him smile, because submission looks shockingly good on a stubborn lion like her. His Y/n.

“I like it.”

[icarushasfallenfromthestars]

Too Sweet (For This World) Yandere!Ranboo x F!Reader x Yandere!Tubbo

Hello! I'm in love with the way you write c! Ranboo like hsgsj- amazing! So I would like a request Yandare c! Ranboo and tubbo with a soft reader that is oblivious on how they act twords them but loves them unconditionaly (just fluff please maybe maybe put a Micheal seen in there as well because Micheal is the best character 😌)

I think this is the best compliment I have ever received... Thank you so much🤍🖤

I didn't know whether or not to do headcanons or a full-length fic, so I went with a shorter story if that's alright. ^^ if it's not feel free to send another request!

FYI THIS CAN BE SEEN AS PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC

-

It was very common for you to see something out of the corner of your eye, but when you looked, you only saw a bunch of purple particles drifting slowly towards the earth due to gravity. You just assumed there were quite a few endermen still hanging around Snowchester, or some of the goats had come down from the mountains when you saw small little horns peeking out from behind bushes.

There were a couple times a day where you accidentally and very conveniently bumped into Ranboo out in the crater of L'Manberg or Tubbo when walking around Snowchester. It honestly was funny to you that you always seemed to bump into them when you were feeling sad or lonely. Plus, after talking to them and spending time with them, your problems almost magically seemed to disappear!

Such as, there was one time when you were helping clean up the red vines around buildings and Fundy was nagging at you for being so slow or bad at doing everything. After storming away and ranting to Ranboo about it on the verge of tears, Fundy practically scrambled up to you the next day shaking and almost crying, apologizing for every single thing he's ever said or done.

Huh... Maybe he felt that bad about it to the point where he was crying?

Although Fundy never said anything mean to you again, he also stopped hanging around you completely.

When you mentioned this to Tubbo, he explained that Fundy must not have been a real friend and that he and Ranboo would always be there for you before anyone else.

Once the mansion was built, the two platonic husbands eagerly invited you to stay with them, even saying they had Foolish make a room specifically for you! At first, you quite enjoyed your home around L'Manberg, but then one day you returned home to a wall of your home completely destroyed by vines, deeming it unlivable. Although a tad convenient..

Tubbo and Ranboo had heard about it through your sobs when you called them, saying you had no clue what to do anymore. They had arrived at your side in almost minutes and quickly helped you pack and move everything to the mansion.

"I thought Snowchester was like... Half a day's walk away from here..." You sniffed, rubbing your red and puffy eyes. The two men of greatly varying heights tensed up momentarily.

"We were in the area." They both blurted out at the same time before glancing at each other.

Tubbo cleared his throat first, "I was in the nether, but luckily for you, I was close to the old L'Manberg portal!" He smiled softly at you as you three walked away from your old home.

"M-Me too!" Ranboo coughed awkwardly, causing Tubbo to shoot him an odd look that you decided to brush off, "Now, uh, come on! Michael needs to meet his new mother!"

You blinked in surprise at the new title but didn't question it much, assuming it was simply just a title. Unbeknownst to you, your two best friends already thought you were part of their platonic relationship, despite you never agreeing nor denying, or them even asking.

It took a few days, but the zombie piglin warmed up to you and practically saw you as another one of his parents, which made Ranboo and Tubbo extremely happy. Instead of placing you into one of the regular rooms, they had Foolish turn the basement into two heavily secured rooms a few days before your house had been destroyed, strangely enough, and even designed one perfectly to your liking!

After washing the fruits you had, you walked towards the bookshelf and pulled on the fake book that caused the shelf to swing open. You walked down the quartz stairs after shutting the hidden door, then made your way up to one of the two doors with a pink sign with 'Michael' written in yellow cursive paint. Punching in the code, the iron door slid open and you stepped in before closing it behind you.

A loud cooing grunt was heard and the sound of quiet tapping echoed through the room before a pair of arms wrapped around your leg. "Hello, Michael." You giggled softly as Michael made grabbing hands up towards the bowl of fruit. Placing it down on the table, the child eagerly ran over and began munching on the food as you brushed over the books on the shelves to find one you haven't read to Michael before. "What about... The story of Persephone?"

A disappointed grunt was your only response.

"Guess I did read that one... Hm... Oh! What about the story of Icarus?" This time his response was a happy squeak and tippy taps of his hooves against the warm quartz floors. You sat down in the rocking chair and waited until the child scrambled over and jumped into your lap.

You opened the book and began reading to him for an hour until your eyes slowly slid shut to the quiet snores of the child of your two best friends, who at this point was beginning to see you as a mother.

Quiet 'meh' sounds and 'vrrr'ing noises and a dim flash woke you up from your spot in the rocking chair. Cracking open your eyes, your arms shifted around the nether hybrid as you saw Tubbo holding a camera making happy bleating noises, while Ranboo, who was the source of the buzzing noises, took the book you had been reading from your limp hand to put it back on the shelf.

"What time is it?" You murmured softly to keep the child asleep as you rubbed the back of your stiff and sore neck.

"It's about 5:30pm. Still rather early. Tubbo walked over and gave you a gentle yet affectionate headbutt while he scooped Michael up from your lap to bring him to bed. This caused an odd whining noise to come from the enderman hybrid before he quickly walked over and rested his forehead against yours, resting it there for a few moments before pulling back, his cheeks flushed the same colours as his eyes.

You giggled softly and gave him a gentle pat on the head as he helped you up. He held onto one of your hands as Tubbo eagerly went for the other, jokingly sticking his tongue out at Ranboo who gave a noise of mock offence, causing you three to giggle softly as you left Michael's room and went upstairs.

Tubbo and Ranboo weren't big fans of you leaving the basement on your own, and you were rarely allowed to leave the mansion even with the two boys at your sides. The former president told you it was because he heard rumours of Technoblade searching around for all the members of his cabinet back when he was in charge of L'Manberg, and he just wanted to protect you.

You saw no problems with his story as it was extremely believable. Your history with Technoblade hadn't been the cleanest and he would've definitely taken one of your canon lives back during the attack on L'Manberg, had a stray black and white firework not saved you that day. It had fired off and must've swerved a way that wasn't predicted, because it hit Technoblade hard enough in the chest to knock him away from you.

You don't remember much of that day, except for Ranboo immediately running over to you and dragging you away from the destruction and chaos. Thanks to him, you were almost completely scar-free and standing proudly at three canons lives.

A gentle hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality and you saw two sets of eyes staring at you with concern. "Hey... Are you feeling okay?" Ranboo asked softly, tilting your head up to place his free hand against your forehead, "See. I told you she should be getting more sunlight, Tubbo!"

"I'm okay, I'm okay!" You laughed softly at their worry, rubbing your thumbs along the back of their hands, "Just... Remembering the war with Dream and Techno..."

"What about it?" Tubbo asked, bringing you into the living room to sit down with your friends on either side of you.

You pursed your lips together for a moment as you looked at the ground, "Just how... Scary Techno is. And how he was about to kill me without a care about who or what I was."

Angered growling and seething noises came from Ranboo and Tubbo as you felt their grasps tighten around your hands, almost to a painful degree. You looked up and saw their expressions stone-cold and steely although vastly different from each other.

Ranboo's green eye was purple, and the black tone of his skin was beginning to seep into the side with the lack of colour. The corners of his mouth were slowly splitting open wider and wider as his lips parted, allowing you to see the glowing purple colour inside his mouth.

Tubbo's was less obvious. His eyes were blank but also had a bright fire, one burning for revenge, reflected in them. His ears weren't flicking and neither was his tail, his entire body stiff except for a faint sound giving away the fact that his teeth were grinding together.

As much as you tried to endure it, the grip became too harsh and you couldn't help but give a small pained gasp. This caused all physical contact with you to suddenly vanish as the two boys immediately flung themselves away from you, horror and fear in their eyes.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!"

"Are you okay?! Do you need an ice pack?!"

"Or a bandage from my claws?!"

They were both kneeling on the ground in front of you with both of your hands in their grasps again. They repeatedly turned your hands in their own, testing the joints and checking for marks or bruising. "Boys, boys!" You laughed softly, placing your hands on their heads to ruffle their hair gently. You pulled your left hand adorned with two beautiful rings and held it up for them to see, flexing it and moving it around, "See? Perfectly fine. No pain whatsoever!"

While they seemed to have calmed down a lot, they still seemed to be extremely upset and guilty. "I'm still going to get an ice pack... We don't want our wife to be injured..." Tubbo murmured as he quickly got up and walked towards the kitchen.

"I will get started on dinner. And as an apology, I'm making your favourite. (F/f)." Ranboo tried to be a little more upbeat than Tubbo, but you could still see the small amounts of guilt as he turned and followed after the goat hybrid.

Sighing softly at their over reactions, you leaned back against the couch...

Before doing a double-take.

Adorned with rings?!

You quickly flung yourself forward again and looked at your left hand. On your ring finger were two diamond rings, one gold with a green gemstone, and the other silver with a black gemstone, both glistening a faint purple from enchantments...

...

When did these get put on you- wait... Did Tubbo say... wife?

[pagesfromthevoid]

Helllloooo Cressida!

If you’re still taking prompts, I have a request, if you’re not, no biggie! Now normally I’d ask for Matt Murdock buuuut I’m also a Steve Rogers kinda girl. So Steve with the prompt of “I didn’t know where else to go” my pronouns are she/ her. Love your blog so much! ❤️

Bless I haven't written for Steve yet! Steve Rogers, my first love.

There was something about the way Steve Rogers held himself that made people follow his lead. Maybe it was the confidence in his stance. Or maybe it was the commanding presence he held. It could be the humble smile that he gave when things went well --whatever the reason, she knew she would follow the man to the end of the earth if she had to.

And she almost had to a few times.

Okay, maybe not the end of the earth. That only happened once in 2012. But she, alongside the other SHIELD agents posed to help him re-enter society, were certainly willing if needed. No, she didn't regularly fight alongside Steve Rogers but when she did, she swore he was the only leader she had any confidence in.

They had met when he woke from the ice; she playing one of the nurses meant to ease him back into the twenty-first century. But once he figured that out --it didn't take long, of course --she became a regularly engaged agent with missions he ran. Most of the time, he simply passed off paperwork to her after missions. But they spoke regularly, interacted professionally and personally. Drinks after long missions, with other agents. Occasional parties thrown by Stark, where they'd spend the evening chatting idly about anything besides work. Natasha had even tried to get him to ask her out a few times ("I tried. He makes up some excuse for every girl, though.").

It was fine if Steve didn't want to date her because she was fine just...admiring him from a distance. She wondered if dating her childhood hero would even live up to the dreams she had of him anyway. What was that saying? "Don't meet your heroes?" Yeah, well she'd met hers. And he was sweet, and hot, and a hell of a superhero. They should change it to "don't date your heroes."

There was no need to jinx the good friendship they already had.

Except when he turned up at her door, Natasha and an unfamiliar face in tow.

"I'm sorry," he started, but she was looking them all over for injuries. "I didn't know where else to go. I...I know I can trust you."

She looked up at him curiously, but ushered them into her little apartment. The unfamiliar face greeted her with a smile as she shut the door, introducing himself as Sam Wilson. Natasha bumped her shoulder lightly as she passed by her.

"So...what's going on?"

It was all over the news, of course. Steve Rogers was an enemy of the state suddenly. But that was something she didn't --couldn't believe for a second. Steve ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath.

"I'm gonna use your shower," Natasha suddenly announced, nodding towards her room.

"Uh, okay. Yeah, that's fine. Extra towels are under the sink."

Steve looked at Sam now, who was distracting himself with her bookshelf. After a moment, the hero finally spoke up.

"SHIELD is compromised by HYDRA," he explained, clenching his fists as he did. "I don't know for how long; I can only assume since the beginning. They've sent someone after Fury, and after me. Natasha says he's the Winter Soldier."

The revelation that she had been working with HYDRA agents for the better part of five years made her stomach flip. All these years, and SHIELD was compromised the entire time? The news didn't sit well with her as she pulled her legs up to her chest, looking him over. Steve glanced at Sam, who stepped into the guest room to look over the damage to himself. Steve look back down at her.

"I...wanted to believe you weren't apart of it. I didn't mean to drag you into this; it's the last thing I want --"

"Hey, this is what we do, right? We save the world. We stop the bad guys. As long as you're the one leading, I'll follow."

They stared at each other for a long time, a grin gracing Steve's lips as he leaned in some. It was involuntary, but he still did it. She smiled back, resting her hands in her lap now as she looked up at him.

"If we get through this --"

"When we get through this," she corrected quickly, giving him a pointed look.

"When we get through this," he chuckled, nodding some. "Get a drink with me?"

"I'd love to." She nodded, biting the inside of her cheek. "Let's kick some HYDRA ass first."

[lxngbottom]

Mute | N.L.

in which the reader doesn’t talk, and neville tries to change that.

warnings: bullying, swearing, mentions of mental illness/anxiety, some angst (let me know if there are more!)

word count: 2,298

thank you for all of the love on my last two one shots!! it means so much ty ty okay now enjoy

—

“trauma, maybe? my dad’s friend who’s a muggle doctor said that trauma can completely change a person.”

there the three boys were again, sitting at the gryffindor table in the great hall, trying to understand the girl who would always sit ways away from everyone else.

“maybe she’s just really shy!” dean quickly replied, shooting down seamus’s suggestion. seamus shrugged, and took a large gulp of his morning pumpkin juice.

“no! longbottom is “shy”, but y/n? i haven’t heard her say one single thing since second year.”

neville listened in on his friend’s conversation, only letting his eyes leave them when he went to take quick glances at the girl of the hour.

y/n was to put it into simple terms... mute. it was very difficult to hear her utter a single vowel, let along a whole statement. everyone at hogwarts knew that she was not just quiet or shy, but completely silent. people wondered how one person could go without speaking for so long. she was a bit jittery, seemingly nervous all the time. if someone shot a single look at her and she noticed, she would look away without even giving the person a chance to smile or wave.

weirdly, she had always been this way. since the first day of first year, she kept to herself, not even attempting on taking the chance of getting to know someone who might become a life long friend. it really got under people’s skin when they asked her a question, and she just simply wouldn’t respond. so, this caused for students to completely avoid her. it seemed that it was a collective agreement among the school that no one should even try speaking to her. and that was because, again, they would never get a reply.

out of these students, neville longbottom seemed to be the most intrigued. he would never forget the first time he heard her speak. it was one day in third year, of course neville was clumsily making his way down the hallway. as he did so, he didn’t notice that y/n was walking straight for him. and of course, she didn’t notice him either until they both crashed into each other’s bodies. neville fell back onto the ground, letting a small huff escape from his lips. surrounding students cackled at the two as they continued walking. when he looked up, he saw the panic in her eyes and the way she quickly reached down to get her books.

“uh—merlin... sorry about that...” he stuttered, reaching down as well to help her. she glanced at him, but quickly looked away when he noticed. of course, she stayed silent. “are you alright?”

she nodded her head, and stood up with the books in her hand. “yeah. thanks.” and with that, she rushed away from him, not even giving him a chance to say one more word.

he would never forget it. the way her voice was so soft and fragile. he had honestly wished he could hear it more.

admittedly, neville felt bad for her. every time he looked at her, something nagged at him about the girl. every time she got called out in class to answer a question, he would panic for her as her face would drop.

she looked so lonely. she would sit in the back of the class always. he had seen her in the library quite often, just reading, sitting all alone at a table. he hated that she seemed so alone.

he wanted to change that.

—

the day was quiet. only the sounds of birds outside and the wind blowing through the trees on the castle grounds. saturdays were always the perfect days for going to the library, studying, or just to read a good book. that was y/n’s plans consisted of most of the time.

y/n made her way through the large halls, waving discreetly to the paintings on the wall. it seemed as if the lively pictures were the only people that ever respected her, told her hello as she walked by.

her fingers were tightly grasped around two books, as she was planning on returning both of them. her face didn’t show it, but she was quite excited to find two more books to add to her reading list. reading had always been considered an easy escape to y/n. pages filled with so many words, but told so many different stories. stories about love, heartbreak, dragons, princesses, noble wizards, y/n enjoyed all of it.

as she daydreamed about her next book, she hadn’t noticed the small group of students exchanging glances and laughing as they saw her approaching. before she knew it, her books were being slapped out of her hand, and hit the ground with a loud noise.

she looked up finally and saw draco malfoy standing right in front of her, hands in his pockets, chuckling with all of his friends from his choice of action against her.

“you gotta be quicker than that, mute!” he teased, and y/n bent down to grab the two books. when she stood up and met eyes with him again, he shook his head at her. “can’t think of a good comeback? or are you just too scared to say anything?”

she held the books tight to her chest, trembling from malfoy’s presence.

“thought so. see you around, mute.” he spat her way, but not forgetting to bump into her figure as he walked away, his friends following behind him.

y/n sighed, and turned around to make sure they were completely gone.

she started her journey once again, making her way to her sanctuary that people called the library.

when she arrived, she returned her books to madam prince silently, and this didn’t shock the librarian whatsoever. she was used to y/n coming in, checking out countless books, and checking them out and returning them muted.

as y/n skimmed the aisles, she came to the conclusion that she would once again read one of her favorite books. she had read it about seven times, but she could never get over how beautifully written it was. it was truly the best thing she had ever laid her eyes on, and she knew she would probably read it once more after this time around.

but when she went over the familiar bookshelf, the book in question wasn’t in the place it always was. she furrowed her eyes brows, and checked the rest of the shelves near just to make sure it hadn’t been misplaced. but of course, it was no where to be found.

malfoy had provided her with a sour experience already that day, and now she couldn’t even check out her favorite book? she already knew where this day was going, and she frowned in disappointment at the thought.

y/n had settled on some other fantasy novel that seemed to acquire to her taste. she checked it out, and made her way to the back of the library. she always went where it was secluded, almost no one else but her present. but little did she know, behind all the shelves she was walking by, someone followed her.

she finally found a small table to sit down at, and she did so with relief. it always made her so nervous to think that she might have to actually sit with other people one day. but luckily, that day wasn’t today. or so she thought.

because as a few minutes went by, and her eyes were glued to the book pages in front of her, she heard a chair being pushed. she looked up, and met eyes with neville longbottom. he shot her a small smile before speaking,

“can i sit here? it’s okay if not, everywhere else just feels a bit stuffy.”

she stared at his features for a moment, thinking back to the day when she bumped into him in the hallway. she gave him a single nod, and luckily, he didn’t miss it.

as he sat down in front of her, she gulped heavily. she hated being around others, even in a peaceful place such as a library.

a few minutes went by, the silence filling in the gap between the two. neville would glance at her a few times over his book, and she seemingly seemed lost in her own world. but at some point, she finally did look away from the words on the pages. she looked at the book he was “reading”, and noticed the familiar cover. if she hadn’t caught herself, she would’ve let out an audible gasp.

he had her book.

she seemed to be staring for too long, because neville looked at her.

“have you read this before?” he suddenly asked, snapping her back into reality. “it’s actually pretty good. i’m not big on fantasy, but this isn’t too bad.”

yeah, it’s an amazing book. she knew that very well.

but of course, she didn’t express that into words for neville. she only snapped her eyes back to her book, and neville frowned a bit.

did he say something wrong? he thought for sure that this was her favorite book. i mean, he had seen her with it more times than he could keep track of, so he could only assume.

“what’s that you’re reading? is it good?”

she looked up at him through hooded eyes, still not budging.

“well, anyways... i’m more of a herbology book lover. i love learning new things about plants. i think it’s really cool...”

y/n felt herself becoming confused, and almost bothered. she knew who neville was, but couldn’t understand why he was attempting to spark a conversation with her.

“i noticed that you like to read,” he mentioned, and y/n finally looked at him fully. “i mean—i see you here a lot, and you’re always reading from what i can tell. what’s your favorite genre?”

as neville attempted to get the girl to speak, he closed his book without looking. he realized that was a mistake when the heavy book closed onto his finger, and he let out a loud yelp.

as much as y/n tried, she couldn’t hold in the small giggle that fell from her lips. she covered her mouth in an attempt to hide it, but neville’s ears caught it.

“oh, you think my suffering is funny, huh?” neville joked, smiling out of triumph. she hadn’t spoke, but she laughed. and neville swore it was the most angelic thing he had ever heard.

she shook her head at his question, her cheeks turning a dark red from embarrassment. she had hoped he was okay, but nonetheless, it was funny.

the whole time they were in the library, neville rambled on about random things. he had brought up his interests in plants, making sure not to over explain his love for them. he talked about books, and random things that had happened to him and his friends during his time at hogwarts. he was making it his number one goal to get her to talk at least once.

but as darkness began to fall, and as curfew approached quicker and quicker by the minute, he hadn’t succeeded. he was quite shy at the fact that he had just sat in the library all day rambling to someone who never even spoke back. she had seemed to be listening, which took him by surprise. he had never had someone to listen to him as he spoke, let along not interrupt him in a conversation.

as much as she hated to admit it, y/n had a good time herself. she loved the way neville talked, how he explained things so deeply and with so much detail. he never seemed to miss a beat in a conversation, even if it was practically with himself. it made her realize that she wish she had the strength to speak. she wished she could respond to his questions without feeling her stomach churning.

the two left the library, their bags draped over their shoulders as they walked. y/n still had two books clutched into her hand, as she has checked out a random herbology book before leaving. neville smiled when she did so, feeling giddy inside that he had managed to spark an interest in her.

“that book is really good! it’s all about water plants! which are really cool, by the way. you should read up on gillyweed! it’s this really cool plant that—“ when he went to ramble on once more, he stopped himself. “never mind. i think i’ve talked a bit too much, today. wouldn’t you agree?”

for some reason, y/n wanted him to keep talking. it filled the silence that she considered her serenity, and she enjoyed every last word he spoke.

“well... i think this is where we part ways. do you need me to walk you back?” he asked, secretly hoping that she would say yes. but, she shook her head no. he was greatly dissatisfied, but, he tried his best to understand.

“oh, okay. well... goodnight, y/n. maybe we can hang out in the library some other time.”

he smiled at her, not expecting a word, but only catching a glimpse at the red that rose to the tips of her ears.

neville began to walk away, feeling a bit defeated.

suddenly, something that neville never wouldn’t expected:

“goodnight.”

he stopped in his place, and turned around. she covered her mouth with her books, but neville could tell that she was smiling. he couldn’t believe that the word had left her mouth.

“goodnight, y/n.” he repeated, and she shot him a smile before walking in the other direction. a genuine smile. the first one he had ever seen besides from her giggling.

he wanted to hear that voice, and those giggles more than she could ever have guessed.

[ncteaxhoe]

can i request smut with innocent church boy mark lee?

a/n: oomffff we all just wanna corrupt morkie don't we? lmaoooo just kidding,,,, hope you like this!!

mark lee x female reader || smut (warnings: profanities, oral sex (m), unprotected sex (this is fiction, wrap it up irl), corruption kink (i guess?), first time for morkie and his hormones out of control lol) || word count: 1.8k

————————

church had just ended and mark was out in the parking lot with his parents, while they talked to their fellow church mates. he stood there, hands in his pockets and kicking the dust with his feet, not paying attention to the conversation going on in front of him. but his ears perked up at the mention of your name.

"oh yes y/n came home last night for the holidays." your mom said to mark's parents.

"she hadn't been home for 4 years now. just us visiting her over there everytime." your father spoke.

"yeah after school she went off straight to college right? wish we could have met her." mark's mother smiled.

"oh she should be here any minute." as soon the words left your father's mouth, you shouted from across the lot.

"mom! dad! i'm here." you waved at them enthusiastically.

you were older than mark by two years, but you had always been friends from when you were little.

mark couldn't stop staring at you. you were totally not what he had anticipated. you looked more mature than he had last seen you. you were wearing clothes which defined your curves at the right places and a bit of your skin exposed. mark gulped when you were started walking closer to them.

his gaze got fixated on your breasts. how they were perked up because of your bra and how your top just deliciously curved around them. mark couldn't help but think how it would feel to have his hands-

"hey mark." mark tore his gaze from your chest towards your face at your voice.

fuck. all the blood rushed down to mark's dick when he met your eyes.

"h-hey y/n."mark looked down, embarrassed and quickly held his hands in front of him to hide his growing boner.

"why don't you guys catch up while we adults go talk with our other friends?" your mom insisted and you waved at them bye.

you both walked a little distance to a bench on the side of the church.

"so, how have you been morkie?" you looped your arm with mark's while you walked. he blushed immensely by the use of his childhood nickname. mark failed to make eye contact with you throughout while you talked and you laughed at how innocent he still was, not to mention his erection still straining against his boxers.

that night he felt wrong but still jerked off to you, your name leaving his lips as he moaned quietly in his room.

———————–—

"ugh.” mark discarded his tenth shirt for the night.

him and his family had just moved to a different house and what better occasion than a house warming to invite you for a dinner. when mark had heard your family was coming over, mark didn’t know what took over him but he had showered made efforts to look decent. 

finally settling for a black t-shirt and a maroon shirt on top of it, combined with black pants, mark tamed his hair a bit and put on some cologne.

“mark come down, they’re here!” mark’s mom called for him.

mark was nervous as he came downstairs. his eyes widened when he saw you enter behind your parents. you were wearing a dress that hugged your curves and before he knew it, mark was staring at your chest again.

this time his gaze was broken due to his mother calling him. mark had stopped midway through climbing down and started staring at you. he cursed internally and stepped down the rest of the way. never had he cursed so much in his life until he saw you a few days ago, nor had he touched himself so much before.

throughout dinner, mark had tried to not look at you but failed terribly. and it was not like you were oblivious to his stares. you just thought it was really cute and had to suppress your giggles in front of your parents.

as the adults were settling for some drinks after dinner, mark's mom suggested that mark show you around the house.

"and y/n's parents already saw it last week, so why don't you give her a tour and maybe spend some time catching up?" his dad said.

"o-okay." mark stuttered, the thought of being alone with you immediately running through his mind.

mark showed you around the ground floor and then took you upstairs. he didn't know why but he bought you to his room at the last.

you entered his room with curiosity. mark was behind you and you suddenly halted, causing mark to bump into you. specifically, mark’s crotch into your ass.

"oh sorry." you mumbled without looking back and went ahead to examine mark's bookshelf. fun fact, you knew the effect you were having on mark right now. his flustered behaviour and slightly squeaky tone gave it all. and let's just say you had a few thoughts in your mind.

the shelf was a height causing you to stretch up on your tip toes to grab a book. you dress hiked up and most of your thighs and a little bit of your ass were on display for mark. if he had tried to control himself before, right now he couldn't. he could feel himself getting a boner around you, yet again.

"fuck." mark muttered and placed his hands in front of himself, turning away from you.

"what happened mark? did you say something?" you started walking towards him.

he jolted in surprise when you placed a hand on his shoulder, turning him around to face you. the smile on your face had mark gulping and almost rubbing his crotch on his hands.

"n-no. nothing." he looked everywhere but at you.

"i think you got a problem morkie." you said in the sweetest tone causing mark to whip his head to look at you, eyes wide and mouth open. he gulped once again when he saw you looking directly at his crotch.

"uh no! it's uh- it's nothing." you just laughed at his flustered behaviour and pulled mark to sit on his bed.

"what-" you placed a finger to his lips and pushed mark's knees apart, kneeling down in between them. you gripped his hands and removed them from his crotch. you could see the obvious tent in his pants.

you looked up at mark. "now morkie, do you think i didn't notice you staring at me?" you smriked at him. he looked at you with doe eyes. how could you use his nickname so sweetly when you were sitting in between his knees, face levelled with his boner?

"i- i, i swear i didn't mean to and-" mark tried to hide his crotch again, his boner growing by the second and his face becoming hot. you gently pushed away his hands and rubbed your hands up and down his thighs, slowly creeping up towards the tent in his pants.

"do you want this mark?" you whispered at him while batting your eyelashes.

you looked so heavenly at that moment that mark could just gulp and nod his head.

"i need some words baby." mark almost came in his pants at the name you called him.

"uh- yes." he spoke in a little voice.

he sucked in a breath as your hand came in contact with his clothed dick. he let out a small moan and bucked his hips as you gripped him hard over his pants.

"you're so cute morkie." you said as you unzipped his pants and took out his cock from his boxers. you licked your lips at his size. you gave a kitten lick to his tip and mark let out a whine. you swallowed him whole and squeezed the rest of his length with your hand. mark bucked his hips yet again, not being able to control himself.

you released his cock from your mouth and spoke, " it's your first time morkie, isn't it?" you grinned at him. mark threw his head back, eyes closed and just moaned as your hands did amazing work around his cock, now fully erect.

his eyes shot wide open as you abruptly halted all your movements.

"do you wanna feel my pussy morkie?" half mesmerised by you, he could only nod. you put on a show of removing your underwear and got into the bed next to him. you turned mark around so now he was facing you. your dress bunched up at your waist, you spread you legs open in front of him. mark stared at your wet core, his cheeks feeling hot.

you grabbed his fingers and brought them to your core. mark let out a small gasp when his fingers touched your arousal. "see how wet you've made me baby?" you smirked at him, queit moans falling out of you. mark's gaze was now fixated in between your thighs as you pushed down the top of your dress, your breasts now on display for mark.

almost fascinatingly, he pushed one of his fingers inside you and you let out a moan. mark couldn't help but think how it would feel to have his inside dick inside your warm core, your soft walls encompassing him.

"can i- um, can i be inside you?" he asked tentatively.

you laughed at how innocent he sounded while asking. you nodded at him and pushed him down on the bed so that he was laid flat. you pushed down his pants more and situated yourself on top of him.

you could see mark's nervousness written all over his face as his eyes grazed your body. "mark?" you called him and he looked at you. "tell me if you don't want to do this." he immediately started denying and telling how he wanted it. before he could overthink even more, you sat down on his cock and mark let out a loud moan.

you put your hands on his chest and started moving your hips up and down. you leant down and whispered in mark's ears to be queit since your parents were still downstairs.

before he knew it, mark was thrusting upwards meeting your hips desperately at this point. you guided his hands to your hips, so he can hold you in place.

"yes mark, faster!" you encouraged him with your moans and whimpers, and within seconds mark was cumming inside you. you clenched your walls around him and a whimper left his mouth, as his seed coated your walls.

mark's eyes suddenly shot open in panic, "wait! i came inside-"

"shhh," you pressed a finger to his lips, "it's alright, i'll take a pill." mark let out a sigh of relief but he still felt like a fool for doing that.

after catching a few breaths you spoke, "not so innocent now, hmm morkie."

now realising what had happened, mark was embarrassed as hell. you made fun of him while getting dressed up and both of you made your way downstairs, mark still embarrassed behind you.

"did you guys have fun catching up? i'm sure you must have had a lot to tell each other." mark's mom pulled you into her arms in an affectionate hug.

you smiled at mark and winked at him.

"we sure did."

a/n: yikes honestly don't know how it is. lmk pls.

[fandom-blackhole]

Fanfiction Trope MASH-UP

Din Djarin

53. Mutual pining, 41. First kiss, 6. Bookshop AU 👀

Hope this is enough of a distraction! ❤

First of all, how dare you make me think of how cute this little AU is, because now I'm yearning for modern Din and Grogu! Second, yes darling, this is going to distract me all night lmao

53. Mutual pining

41. First kiss

6. Bookshop AU

Din Djarin x Reader

Owning your own little bookshop had its pros and cons. Some of the cons, to name a few, was worrying about making enough to keep the store open, dealing with angry people when you shop didn't carry the book they wanted, the building you were in was old and leaked every time it rained, and just the entire business side of the bookstore bored you and made your anxiety raise just thinking about it. But the pros, those more then made up for the stress of counting each penny in order to order stock. And those pros came in the form of your two favorite customers, a young boy, always dressed in the cutest green frog sweater and his father who took your breath the first time he walked into you small store. Din Djarin was handsome in a way that was devastating. Not only was he physically handsome, with brown eyes that screamed of kindness, broad shoulders and a narrow waist, hands big enough to dwarf any book in your store, and scruff that was so patchy you couldn't help but find it cute, but Din was also handsome in the way that he acted, the way he would gently talk to his son as they picked out books or as he sat in the reading nook and read to Grogu, the way he would always ask about your day, how when he saw you struggling with boxes on more than one occasion he had stepped in and moved them for you not letting you lift another box. Din was sweet and kind to you, and with every small smile he gave you, you thought your heart would burst from your chest. And his son, Grogu, was obviously in the best hands. The boy was just as polite as his father, and just as devastatingly cute. The young boy, who you always joked about being your best customer, always ran into the store with an excites wave and a smile, and almost always ran and gave you the biggest hug he could. On occasion, the little cutie would bring you a present to add to a shelf you had cleared just for him. The presents were what you'd expect a kid to give, a dandelion, a colorful leaf, a shiny rock, and once a piece of candy that Din explained he had cried over for days after seeing it before Din went and bought it for him. You cared deeply for the two, and they brightened your weeks with each visit they made.

One week, it had been raining and storming every single day with no reprieve. You had all but written off seeing the two, knowing they always walked to your shop, but there you were shocked when a tiny frog rainbooted blur came dashing towards you and wrapped your legs in a hug, quickly followed by a hushed stern voice saying, "Stop it kid, you're gonna get them all wet!"

You could only giggle and lean down to give him a proper hug, looking over towards Din, saying, "If getting wet is the price I pay for my favorite and best customer's hug, then I'll gladly take it."

Din only shook his head and gave you his small smile, making you bite the inside of your lip feeling the rush of warmth in your chest and face. The two then disappeared into the children's section, you occasionally hearing Grogu's giggle, or Din's quiet rumbling voice, making you grin as you walked around organizing shelves. Eventually, you got lost in thought, humming quietly to yourself as you worked. You hadn't noticed the set of eyes watching you, and you barely caught the throat being cleared before you bumped into what you could have almost mistaken for a bookshelf with how solid it was. When you turned to look up, eyes wide and already apologizing, you found Din's soft eyes looking at you. Din took no time brushing your apology to the side, before furrowed his brows and saying, "There is a bucket full of water in the middle of the children's section."

You sighed painfully and nodded, before turning back to your work to both somewhat distract yourself from the way his eyes were boring into you, and to keep you hands busy from nervous fidgeting, as you said, "Yeah...it leaks back there whenever it rains super hard. I just... I havent been able to get it fixed yet."

Then Din shocked you completely, he grabbed your hand, stilling it and making you look into those soulful eyes before whispering, "I can fix that."

You had tried to argue with him, telling him you'd get to it eventually and making up reason why he shouldn't, but each time he shot you down, until he was paying for the stack of books Grogu had grabbed and he had set up a weekend day he could come over to do the job.

When the weekend finally came around, it was hot and muggy from all of the rain, and Din had shown up with everything he needed, and Grogu, who you agreed to watch while he worked, the least you could do considering he was trying to work without payment. But Din had also shown up in a white t-shirt that hugged his chest and showed off his softer middle, and jeans that fit right in all of the right places, and you couldn't help but feel your mouth go dry. You had closed the store for the day, and had made a lunch for the three of you the night before, so while Din made quick work with the roof, you and Grogu played games and read books in the little reading nook. Eventually, he got hungry so you let him eat, and shortly after he dozed off looking through a hidden images book. With a smile, you tucked him gently into a more comfortable position and draped a soft quilt around his shoulder. When you turned around though your heart stopped and you felt heat rush to your face. While you had been distraction, Din had snuck into the store and watched with an aching heart as you took care of his son, falling for the soft and loving smile that graced your features as you did. When you turned around completely, you took in his form, and felt a pang of guilt with how red his face was from working in the sun, but also a pang of something else entirely as your eyes soaked in the way Din's sweat shirt clung to his chest, leaving nothing to your imagination and how his hair curled so perfectly from the dampness of sweat and the humidity.

"I finished," his soft rumble broke you from you ogling, and the heat in your face spread to your chest as you cleared your throat. "Come sit down then, I made food last night and I imagine you're hungry so eat, and I will go get you some ice water to cool off."

You rushed away, as Din checked on Grogu before settling on the floor, and reaching for the plate that was on the coffee table. You appeared seconds later, setting a glass in front of him, before sitting beside him, grabbing your own plate.

"Sorry it isn't anything fancy, but I thought that the ravioli would be something Grogu and you both may like."

"It is perfect, thank you."

The two of you ate in silence after that, both of you stealing glances at the other while they weren't looking. When you finished, you took the plates and set them aside before shyly saying, "Thank you again, Din. You have helped me so much with this favor, and if I can repay you in anyway just tell me."

"It was nothing, and you owe me nothing, I promise."

You looked over at him, a soft and kind smile showing on your face, "I feel bad not doing anything for you or paying you. There has to be something?"

Din was quiet for a few minutes, his eyes taking in your earnest and open body language, taking in how your own eyes danced around his form, and before he could think twice about it, he said, "There is one thing..."

"Anything, you only have to ask."

Din took in how perked up you were, leaning towards him in the small space that separated the two of you. Taking a deep breath for courage, Din leaned in himself, and whispered, hot breath ghosting over your face, "A kiss?"

You swallowed thickly in shock, and met his gaze, finding no teasing look, only want so soft you thought you'd melt, so you replied by softly nodding and slowly drifting your eyes shut. Then you felt it, a soft brush of plush lips against your own, before they connected fully. The kiss was quick, and loving, and you followed his lips as he pulled away. Slowly, you both looked at eachother, taking in the other's reaction, before reaching out again. You buried one of your hands in Din's sinfully soft curls, as one of his broad palms cupped your cheek. This kiss was more passionate, but not pushing. The two of you finally just enjoying the feel of the other. The kiss expressed so much love and passion that it had you addicted and never wanting to pull away. But eventually the two of you needed to leave the other for air, and as your chests both heaved slightly, Din whispered while his forehead pressed against yours, "I also wouldn't say no to a date."

Send Me Tropes

[frankiekatt]

My Ghost (Part 1)

Characters: Denki Kaminari 

Notes: Ghost AUs fuel my soul so I had to write one myself. This will be a 3 part series!

Warnings: Mentions of death!

Words: 4K

Synopsis: Denki knew deep down any outcome would just lead to disaster and sorrow. After all, he was a dead man who never aged and who could never leave this house. And you - you were the complete opposite. You were a living, breathing girl with your whole life ahead of you.

Being alone in a brand new house with all its creaks and groans was definitely not your idea of a perfect summer. If you had gotten a choice in the matter, you would have gladly followed your two best friends to Costa Rica, or went vacationing with your father to Greece, or visited your grandmother in Hong Kong. Anything but being stuck home alone in a brand new house that didn’t even have all of your furniture in it yet. 

But sadly, your mother had finally decided to get married to her long-time boyfriend, and the two of them had made the exciting decision to honeymoon in America all summer. Which meant that you would be cat-sitting for your new step-father’s tabby, Charles, in the new family house. All summer. All by yourself. 

The house that your mother and new step-father had moved the three of you into was a two-story brick building with 5 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, and a small library on the second floor. The real estate agent that had sold your family the house had explained that no one had lived in this house for over 30 years, due to a death taking place in the upstairs attic, which creeped you out a bit, but your parents were quick to put down a down-payment on the house due to the unusually low price. 

Now, for the next three months, this house would be a constant for you. That, and the black and grey tabby you were now responsible for. 

Though, there was one more thing that would be in your presence for the remainder of the summer. You were not yet aware of the blonde boy’s presence in your house, but he was very aware of yours. 

The very first day you and your family had moved in, Denki was completely smitten with you. He hadn’t seen a girl in this house that wasn’t over the age of 45 and trying to sell this place in well over 30 years. And definitely not a girl this cute. 

He watched you explore the house, following behind you as you went from room to room, admiring the paintings his mother had hung on the walls years ago or inspecting the oak cabinets in the kitchen with a curious look in your pretty eyes. 

Denki adored you. He watched every night as you and your two parents unpacked boxes in every room. He watched every night as you decorated your room - which was once his - with posters and drawings and hung up your clothes in the small closet on the right side of your room. On the third day, while you were downstairs with your mother, Denki decided to look through all the clothes you had hung up the night before. Most of the articles of clothing were sweaters and hoodies with a couple dresses and skirts here and there. 

That’s how you dressed normally, Denki observed. Always in a hoodie or sweater with shorts or jeans. Denki thought it was odd at first, as it was the beginning of June and the sun was scorching. But the more Denki watched you, the more he found you absolutely adorable. 

Denki hadn’t felt the touch of another human being since the day he died in his attic, and seeing you walk around his house each day, bundled up in big hoodies and sweaters, made him want to touch you more than anything. You just looked so soft. On the fourth night, after you had already gone to bed, Denki decided he was going to touch you. Just a little, just on your cheek. Nothing too creepy or too serious to wake you up.

You looked so pretty when you were sleeping. Your eyes were closed, which meant they couldn’t hold that annoyed look you seemed to perpetually have whenever your parents would talk about leaving for the summer. Your brows were rested, no longer drawn together in irritation. You looked completely and utterly peaceful. 

Denki reached out towards your face, hand shaking like a leaf. He hadn’t touched another human in so long, and here you were, right in front of him, unconscious, vulnerable, smooth and soft. Denki had forgotten what human flesh felt like, so when he brushed the back of his fingers against your cold cheek, he almost jumped away. 

Almost.

You felt like spring to him; growth, new beginnings, blossoming, life. You felt like everything Denki had been longing for for over thirty years - hell, even before then. He had only touched you with two fingers, and he already felt like fate had pulled him into its eventful little game. It was frightening to him, how many emotions were drifting in and out of his chest all at once. 

He didn’t know you. The only thing he knew about you was your name and he only learned that four days ago. And yet, he here was, standing in his - your- bedroom, watching you sleep, falling in love with everything about you. 

You stirred slightly at his touch, which made Denki jerk away. He quickly made himself invisible to the human eye once more and stepped away from your bedside before your eyes opened slowly. 

Your room was unusually chilly. You got cold fairly easily, so you often kept the temperature of your room higher than normal, but now it felt like someone had left your window open during a frigid winter night. Sitting up, you pulled the large red hooding off the side of your headboard and slipped it over your t-shirt. Why is it so fucking cold?

Your bedside clock read 3:33am, which meant you only had a couple hours until your mother and step-father left for their 7am flight. Soon, you would be all alone in this house, in a new town, with no one to keep you company other than the fluffy grey cat that was currently sleeping at the foot of your bed. You were now wide awake and freezing cold, so you saw no point in trying to fall back asleep for a measly few hours, so you decided to explore the one room in this house you hadn’t quite gotten to see yet; the library.

The library was exactly as the real estate agent had said it was; completely untouched since the last family moved out. It was a small room, filled with one desk in the center, and two wide bookshelves attached to each wall. There were papers and notebooks littering the mahogany desk, as well as envelopes and wax stamps. The room smelt of dust and pine and was colder than your bedroom had been a couple minutes ago. Still, you ventured into the dark room, stopping by the large desk to turn on the small lamp that sat at its edge. 

Light filled the room, showing off the rows upon rows of books that decorated the large brown bookshelves. Some books were very old, such as ‘Epic of Gilgamesh’, and some were not so old, such as a couple of Louis Duncan novels. Some of the books, as you saw, you had read, and most of them you had not. You spotted one of your favorite novels on the south wall bookshelf, and shuffled towards it to look over the dusty cover. Before you could grab the spine of the book, however, something caught your eye. 

Something very human-like, and it was definitely not one of your parents. 

He was only visible for half a second before he seemed to just cease to exist before your eyes. In that half a second though, you were apple to make out spiky blond hair, and piercing yellow eyes that were staring directly at you. 

A scream rose in your throat, but you were able to choke it down before it could escape and wake everyone up. There was no one else in the room but you. You whipped your head around, scanning every corner of the room for the blonde boy who had just been right by your side moments ago, gazing at you. But there was nothing. No mysterious boy in the library, or out in the hall. Maybe the lack of a full night’s rest had you seeing things. Yes, that had to be it. 

But Denki knew the truth. He had gotten distracted by you for not even a second, and had managed to make himself visible to you. He knew the second your eyes had widened in fear, that you had spotted him. Denki’s heart leaped out of his chest as he quickly made himself invisible and backed away from you. You were now looking around frantically, terror written all over your face. In the midst of back away from you quietly, Denki accidentally bumped into the large wooden desk, sending papers flying to the floor. 

The sound of a thud and the fact that papers were now drifting downwards as if someone had picked up a stack and threw them on the floor had you second guessing if you were just imagining things. 

No fucking way, you thought. You weren’t exactly a non-believer of the supernatural, but you had never in your life imagined that you would encounter anything non-human. The thought of it almost made you laugh as you stood frozen in fear. This was just ridiculous. Okay, so maybe you had thought you had seen a boy standing next to you and the next second he was gone, and maybe something made a loud noise and a stack of papers coincidentally fell to the floor. That did not mean that there was a ghost or a demon or some kind of invisible man in your house. Did it?

Denki decided to let you know it did, in fact, mean that. Making himself invisible to the human eye for four days straight had drained him of almost all of his energy, and you had already seen him and heard him twice. So, fuck it. 

The scream that you had been keeping bay for the last 60 seconds had finally decided to rip free. There was the blonde boy again - standing right in front of you. A minute ago, he had been more translucent and blurry, but now you could see him clearly. This thing you were seeing was a tall blonde boy with yellow eyes, wearing all black. He was cute. But he was also someone who could disappear and reappear in a matter of seconds, and that was not what normal cute boys do. 

You were screaming and backing yourself up against the wall, trying desperately to make yourself as small as possible so this magical invisible blonde boy would leave you alone.

“No! Shh! Stop, it’s okay, everything is okay! Please stop screaming!” 

The fact that the blonde boy was now speaking to you, made you even more afraid. You inhaled deeply, preparing to let out another scream, hoping one of your parents would wake up and come save you, but the blonde boy lurched forward and clamped a hand down on your mouth before you could make another sound. 

“Please,” he pleaded. “Please don’t scream. I’m not going to hurt you, I swear.”

His golden eyes were boring into yours, begging you to stay quiet. The urge to scream slowly dissipated as you realized this boy’s body was pressed against yours - this incredibly cute boy was pressing himself against you. 

“I’m gonna take my hand away, okay?” The boy whispered. His eyes were just as wide as yours. 

You nodded slowly at him, which prompted the blonde boy to let his hand slip away from your lips, inch by inch. Once your mouth was completely free, Denki took a step back to allow you to catch your breath. 

“Alright, so, you probably have some questions.” He chuckled nervously. 

Without meeting his gaze, you pushed yourself off the wall and nodded. Uh, yeah I have questions. Why are you in my house? How are you in my house? What exactly are you?

“Well,” he started slowly, “My name’s Denki. I, um, I used to live here.”

“Live here? So, what, you're mad I’m in your house or something and you’ve come to magically take it back or something?”

He shook his head and focused his gaze on his feet. “No, that’s not it. I kind of still live here, just not by my choice.”

What the blonde boy - Denki - said, seemed to ignite a memory in the back of your mind. The real estate agent had told you and your family that there had been a death in the house over 30 years ago - a boy who got electrocuted in the attic. The fact that Denki could make himself visible and invisible at will, clicked everything into place. 

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “Y-your d-dead.” Your hands were now trembling. 

Denki looked up at that moment. His eyes were sad and bleak, which almost made you feel bad for stating the obvious. 

“That’s right,” Denki lamented. “I’m dead.”

* * *

You spent the next three and a half hours cautiously speaking to Denki, processing the fact that you were conversing with a ghost in the creepy library of your new home. 

Denki explained to you that he had died on November 11th, 1989, in the attic of this house when he attempted to set up a couple extension cords for his tv he liked to play video games on during a storm, and ended up electrocuting himself. Denki didn’t seem too  upset describing the day he died to you, but he did start to shed tears when he choked out how he had to watch his parents fall apart in the halls of this house over his death. He cried as he remembered how they finalized the divorce a year after his death, and put the house up for sale. Denki weeped when he looked back on the day when his eternal loneliness began. When his parents left him in this big, cold house all alone. Dead and lonely. 

Once he was finished telling his story, he quickly wiped his tears away and smiled as brightly as he could at you, trying to hide his sorrow. “So,” he drawled. “What about you? What’s your story?”

You felt silly, sitting on the floor of the library, telling a dead boy the story of how your parents split when you were 12 due to an affair your mother was having with her now-husband, and how your dad decided to travel the world instead of wallowing in his heart break. You told Denki that living with your mother and her new boyfriend who had ruined your parents’ marriage was hard at first, but gradually became easier the more you realized what a nice guy your mother’s now-husband was. He was awkward around you, but always polite, and he seemed to be infatuated with your mother. Though you hated to admit it, you saw love between your mother and her boyfriend that you never saw between your mother and your father. 

Denki reached out to hold your hands in his when your voice began to waver when speaking of your mother and father. It was a hard topic to talk about for you, but Denki’s cool hands gave you comfort. 

You both shared stories of your childhoods, your favorite memories, what you both were like when you were younger. As 6 ‘o cock rolled around, you had forgotten that you were chatting and laughing with the ghost of an 18 year old boy. It was a strangely nice feeling. You had just discovered that ghosts were real, and now you were making friends with one. Denki was nice and funny and his infectious laugh had managed to pull a smile from you numerous times throughout the three hours you sat talking to him about anything and everything. 

While Denki was rattling on about his favorite foods and how much he missed eating them, a thought popped into your head. “Denki,” you started, “have you been watching us for the past four days?”

Denki blinked at you before grinning and nodding furiously. “Yep! The way you dance while folding laundry is super cute by the way!” His favorite thing to do at night was watching you blast music from your phone and dance around your room while folding fresh laundry. 

A slight blush coated your cheeks. “So, did you...see everything I did then?”

Oh. That.

Denki instantly knew what you were referring to. On the third night of staying in your new house, you had waited till both of your parents had gone to bed before locking your bedroom door and slipping into bed. Denki had been sitting in your computer chair at that time, leisurely watching you go about your room for the past half hour. The moment you had fallen into your bed though, made Denki shoot to his feet with a tomato red face. 

You had slipped your delicate hand into the waistband of your night shorts. It had been several weeks since you had had a chance to release any of your stress in any type of form, and tonight you were alone, horny, and frustrated. Your small fingers were now stuffed inside your cunt, moving in and out in an attempt to relieve yourself, and Denki was unable to look away. He knew he shouldn’t be watching this - watching you - but he couldn’t make himself leave, couldn’t make himself respect your privacy. 

You looked so helpless and so cute sprawled out on your bed, hand moving around in your shorts, your wet lips letting out soft little mewls. Denki felt utterly disgusting as he slipped his own hand into the waistband of his jeans to knead himself at the sight of you. He wanted more than anything to make himself known to you, to touch you, to tell you he had practically fallen in love with you the first time he saw you and you should let him pleasure you instead. 

Denki had to settle for fucking his fist to the sound of your moans, unfortunately. He could almost imagine how wet and tight and how good you would feel around him. He hoped someday soon, he would get to be the one forcing moans out of your mouth instead of your own fingers. He hoped soon, he would be able to kiss your neck as he fucked into you, reaching his high. He really, really hoped that he would be able to release inside you, stuffing you full of his cum, of his passion, of his love.

Denki’s face flushed at your revelation. He had just revealed himself to you, and had managed to get you to stay and talk to him for hours - he did not want to ruin it by admitting to violating your privacy in the worst way possible. 

“I know you watched me that night,” you said, barely above a whisper. “I-I think I heard you. H-heard you moaning.”

Denki didn’t think his face could reach a higher temperature. He wanted to say something - anything - but was completely stuck watching you stutter and blush, his own mouth glued shut. 

“I thought I was just imagining it, that I was fantasizing about something like that. But I wasn’t, was I? It was you in my room that night. Watching me.”

Your voice wasn’t the least bit defensive, nor was there any trace of accusation on your face. Shouldn’t you be angry at him? Shouldn’t you be yelling at him in embarrassment? Calling him a pervert?

But you weren’t. You looked flustered for sure, but not like you felt violated in any way. In fact, the thought of Denki watching you touching yourself - touching himself at the sight of you - made you feel good. Denki was extremely attractive to you, and it was thrilling to know that he thought the same of you.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N.” This was humiliating. What if you never wanted to talk to him again because of this? What would he do then? “I never meant to do that sort of thing! I j-just, I don’t know, you looked so pretty and I had already come to like you so much that I just-”

Watching Denki fumble with his words in an effort to not upset you was almost laughable. You didn’t want nor need an apology from him. You liked that he had watched you. That he had touched himself to you.

That’s why you were now kissing him. He had begun to stutter and raise his voice so much that the only way you saw fit to quiet him was to press your lips against his. His lips were smooth and full and cold to the touch just like his hands were. Your sudden intrusion shocked Denki so much that he almost forgot to kiss you back. He hadn’t kissed anyone since he was 12 years old, and even then, the girl who kissed him was only acting on a dare and had laughed in his face before running away after taking his first kiss. Now, he had you pressed against him, your lips dancing upon his in the gentlest way possible. 

When he began to reciprocate the kiss, Denki could have sworn he saw ‘the light’ everyone talked about seeing when they died. It was beautiful and warm and exciting and it was all you. You slipped an arm around his neck to tug him closer and deepen the kiss, which incited a soft groan from Denki’s throat. Breathing had become a distant memory for the both of you; all that mattered in that moment was claiming each other’s lips. 

“Y/N,” your mother called from downstairs. You both jumped away from each other at your mother’s voice, panting heavily, lips swollen. 

“What, mom?” Why did she have to be awake now? 

“We’re leaving in a few minutes, sweetie! Please come down here!”

For fucks sake. You knew you should go down there and bid her farewell. She would be gone for three months, after all. But Denki’s presence made everything else in your life seem so small. You had only just met him, only kissed him once, and now it felt like he was invading your mind and making a permanent home in your brain.  “Alright! I’m coming!”

You turned back towards Denki who had a goofy grin on his face. “So you do like me back?”

You scoffed, letting your hair fall in front of your face to hide the redness that was blossoming across it. “Shut up. You’re just kind of cute. That’s all” A complete lie. 

Denki leaned forward and took your chin in his hand, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Well,” he said, “I like you. And I want to do that again, if that’s okay?”

A slight smile found its way on your lips. You were about to take him up on his offer before your mother shouted back up at you to hurry down. Denki smiled at you and said, “Go, before she comes up here and catches you making out with a ghost.”

Tearing yourself away from him was surprisingly hard. You felt compelled to stay with Denki like that, centimeters apart, lingering in your own little bubble. But he was right. Your mother was starting to sound agitated. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Denki nodded at you encouragingly, and watched as you rushed out of the room and down the stairs. His smile quickly fell from his lips once you were gone. 

You had kissed him. And he had kissed you back. Denki wasn’t sure what this meant, but he was secretly hoping it would continue. 

Though, even with that hope, Denki knew deep down any outcome would just lead to disaster and sorrow. After all, he was a dead man who never aged and who could never leave this house. And you - you were the complete opposite. You were a living, breathing girl with your whole life ahead of you.

[trashboatprince]

I saw a challenge to write something sexy about Mr. Harrison and Mr. Cortese from this post by @naniiebimworks and I’m not missing the chance to make content of them in written form. Love me some Crowley and Aziraphale’s personas.

Summery: Warlock is too old for his nanny, but he’s not too old to start having a private tutor. Make that two tutors, who happen to look a bit like the nanny and the gardener who followed her off the grounds.

And already there’s something going on between them.

AKA Crowley and Aziraphale are really into how the other looks for this next phase of the plans.

Warning: these two are already in a relationship. Not full on content, but there is touching and such, gotta keep it pg-13 cause some of my followers are young. Also, not beta’d, so forgive the grammar errors 

EDIT: There’s an extra mature chapter on ao3 

On with the fic!

--

Nanny Ashtoreth put in her two weeks without much of a fuss, politely telling the Dowlings that young Warlock had no need for her anymore, it was time for him to get his lessons from a professional and not a nanny who was smarter than expected.

She recommended someone she said she had worked with previously, that he was highly recommended.

The day after she departed from the estate, there was a knock at the door and a tall, sharp man in an even sharper, dark suit stood there, carrying a briefcase under his arm. “I’m Mr. Harrison,” he greeted the doorman with a voice that dared him to say something, “Nanny Ashtoreth told me that this is where I would I be teaching.”

Without waiting, he stepped past the doorman and into the foyer, where he greeted Mrs. Dowling, who stepped down the stairs to greet him.

Mr. Harrison reminded her greatly of Nanny, that they looked rather similar. The same red colored hair, same facial structure, though clearly Harrison his sharp cheek bones under a beard.

“We’re cousins.” He told her simply, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

He would start his lessons with Warlock tomorrow at nine.

--

The next morning, while Mr. Harrison was teaching Warlock his first lessons on the ancient armies of the world, there was yet another knock at the door.

The doorman was surprised to see a man with wild, near-white hair and an equally wild beard standing there, smiling. He was dressed in creams and golds, a stark contrast to the clothing of the other man who had been at the door the day before. “Good morning!” He greeted the poor employee with a Welsh tint to his voice. “I am Mr. Cortese, I was hired to be the private tutor to Warlock Dowling.”

“Uhh…” The doorman blinked, before making himself professional. “I am so sorry to inform you that Mrs. Dowling has already hired a tutor yesterday.”

“Oh?” Mr. Cortese asked, eyebrows raised high as he glanced about past the man, as if looking for the person who took his job. “I am sure that the young boy wouldn’t mind two instructors.”

The man at the door sighed and said he would get his boss to speak to the stranger. Ten minutes later, Mrs. Dowling hired Mr. Cortese to be Warlock’s second tutor, taking two days of the week and sharing one with his coworker.

She took note that he reminded her of someone, but she wasn’t sure. Sort of like the weird gardener who happened to leave right after Nanny Ashtoreth did, but house staff come and go.

--

“… And that, young Warlock, is why one must not draw on his books, you never know what their worth will be in the future.” Cortese sighed loudly as he finished with erasing the last of the doodles the young boy had drawn on the open pages of the history book in front of him.

“I thought it made it look cool.” Warlock replied in his defense and Cortese nearly rolled his eyes before removing his pocket watch from his vest pocket, looking at the time.

“Right, well, it seems that our lesson for history is over for today. Off you go, enjoy your hour break. When you return, we shall begin our coverage of literature.” He waved a hand towards the door and Warlock didn’t need to be told twice to run off for fun, there was a video game with his name on it that he couldn’t keep waiting any longer.

Cortese watched him run out of the room with a small huff, smiling as he started to clean up the books and papers on the table of the building’s library where he was to do his lessons. He paused when he smelled something, a strong cologne that covered a natural, demonic musk that he knew all too well. “Mr. Harrison, I assume?” He turned to meet the man who he had yet to be introduced to since arriving yesterday.

Leaning against a bookcase, Cortese stared from behind his reading glasses, feeling his face heat up just a bit as he looked at his counterpart.

Harrison was in a dark suit, fitting of him, opened jacket and tie just a bit loose. The angel inwardly cursed as he looked at how the other had styled his hair, pulled back in a tight short ponytail. He hadn’t seen Crowley since they left the estate, wanting to get themselves ready for their next personas.

Seems that Crowley miracled up a beard that looked too good on him, the littlest of changes to the demon always got something stirring in Aziraphale, be it a new haircut or the addition of facial hair.

And he did a combo, damn him.

Clearing his throat, Cortese straightened himself up, adjusting his jacket. “I almost didn’t get the job because of you.” He told the redhead, who only smirked, crossing his arms.

“You’d have gotten it anyway, and look, you did! Come on, you knew I was gonna show up first, made it less… suspicious, if we both showed up at the same time.” Pushing himself off of the bookshelf, Harrison sauntered over to partner in this scheme, the smirk turning more playful as he stepped around Cortese, looking him up and down behind dark lenses.

He stopped behind the shorter man, who froze up at the eyes that he felt on his backside, those hungry eyes…

“Nice suit,” Harrison commented, “suits you, love the colors. Golds and creams? A change of pace from the tartan.”

“Oh!” Cortese turned sharply, giving him a hard stare. “Must I repeat myself? Tartan is stylish! But, if you must know, I decided to change it up a bit. I do wear other clothing you know, Mr. Harrison.”

Harrison looked at him, before shrugging. “Of course, just… can’t help admirin’ how good you look when you mix it up a bit.” He was suddenly closer, when had he gotten so close? Cortese stepped back, feeling his backside bump against the table, he was pinned.

“You need to dress up more, angel.” Harrison then frowned before chuckling. “No, don’t do that, you become too much of a tease when you step out of the norm.” He toyed with the silk tie that Cortese wore, slowly, carefully loosening it as he tugged down on the knot with one finger.

Cortese’s face flared up red as a heat pooled in his stomach. “M-Mr. Harrison! You wily man, behave yourself!” He swatted at the hand. “You should be professional!”

“Oh please,” The demon rolled his eyes before leaning in closer, “it’s not like we didn’t have our fun as the nanny and the gardener, yeah? Won’t take these fools long to start rumors about us as well…”

Cortese paused, looking at Harrison’s face. Right, they had been a bit adventurous and frisky with one another when in their previous personas, what’s the harm of having a little fun as two tutors? It was like something out of his romance section, but he wouldn’t voice that out loud.

“We waited a few months as Ashtoreth and Francis before we got handy, my dear.” He finally replied and Harrison groaned.

“Wow, way to be a real buzzkill, angel!” He moved to step back, but Harrison found himself in place, hands on his hips that suddenly were pressed against Cortese’s. “Whu-?”

“Who said we weren’t going to have any fun?” The blond scoffed. “Besides…” There was a snap of fingers and Harrison heard a lock set in place.

Cortese leaned in close to his ear, he could practically hear the smug smile in the other’s voice. “We have less than an hour before my next lesson and I’d like to get my ‘coworker’ a bit better. Is that alright with you?”

The string of sounds from Harrison was all Cortese needed as an answer.

Someone, Harrison found himself flipped around, his own back pressed into the table with the angel pinning him to it, kissing him hard on the lips. Any coherent thoughts in the redhead’s mind were thrown out the window as he was snogged into next week, wrapping his legs around soft hips.

He pulled back, panting a bit as he looked at the hazel eyes that stared right at him. “Damn, angel, you’re in a mood.”

“You’re a terrible tease, dressing up like this.” Cortese huffed, kissing at his neck before working on undoing the already-loose knot of Harrison’s tie. “You know I love seeing you dressed up.”

“Mmm… sssshould do it more often than…” Harrison tilted his head back, lifting his hand up to snap his fingers, but a hand stopped him. “Come on, don’t go slow…” He groaned.

“No, I want to take it slow, I’m not going to just have your clothes vanish on me!” Cortese scoffed as he pulled back to start working on removing the suit jacket, taking note that he rather liked the pattern on it, Crowley needed to wear more patterns in his wardrobe.

Harrison pouted before his own fingers got to work on unbuttoning the vest Cortese wore, legs still firmly in place around the other’s waist. “How far?”

“Hmm… heavy petting?”

There was a loud snort. “Who taught you that?!” Harrison laughed before undoing the last button. He looked at the other man, a coy smile on his face. “Lovin’ the changes, angel. You look so good with that hair, almost feral, very you.”

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

“Just commentin’.” Harrison mumbled as he pulled him down, talking against the other’s lips before kissing him hard. Cortese mumbled a reply that fell on deaf ears, the two clearly distracted be kissing and the sneaky fingers playing with the tie the other wore.

Both were discarded on the table, and Harrison was vaguely aware that his hair had slipped from the ponytail it had been in. He would have made a comment, but he was distracted by perfectly manicured fingers playing with his freed hair, and by the body that pressed against him.

His own fingers busied themselves with groping a rather nice, soft bottom, earning a squeak from the angel who was still toying with his hair. Harrison smirked, pressing down on the ample flesh, keeping Cortese against him as he moved to suck on the exposed skin of his advisory’s neck.

The room felt hot and both angel and demon were feeling even hotter, fingers moving here and there, but never to what was going to be wanting some attention. Well, Harrison thought, time to change that-

There was a sharp set of knocks at the doors to the library and Cortese pulled back sharply from Harrison, losing his balance and dropping to the floor at the sudden intrusion.

“Ssshit!” Harrison sat up straight and worked quickly to straighten out his shirt, trying to button it back up from where Cortese had popped a few of the buttons.

“Y-yes? Who’s there?” Cortese called out.

“Mr. Cortese,” came Warlock’s voice from the other side, “can I come in?”

“In a moment!” The blond replied before trying to get his vest and shirt back in order. “Oh, this was a bad idea…!” He whispered towards the other man in the room, who was trying to get his hair back into place.

“Yeah, yeah, I know! Gotta wait until the kid’s asleep, ‘r somethin’…” Harrison jumped from the table, throwing on his coat, then grabbing a tie, tossing the other at Cortese who was quick to try and get it done up.

Once Harrison thought he had everything in order, he rushed to the door, the lock suddenly undone and the door opened to reveal Warlock, standing there with a confusion on his face. “We’ll continue our discussion of the plans later, yes, Mr. Cortese?” He spoke, as if nothing had just happened, outside of the flushed look on his cheeks and the rumpled state of his clothes.

“Y-yes, of course, do come looking for me when you have the chance, Mr. Harrison.” Cortese replied, swallowing as he straightened his jacket out. He watched the other man walk past Warlock without much word and turned to the child. “Yes, did you need something?” He asked, trying to act like Warlock did not just interrupt something.

“Wonderin’ if I left my phone in here.” Warlock replied before tilting his head. “How come you’re wearin’ Mr. Harrison’s tie?”

Cortese looked down, seeing that, yes, he was wearing the dark colored tie.

This was gonna be a long next couple of years.

END

--

They make up for lost time later, but make sure that it’s when no one will bother them. >.>

Anyway, first time every writing for Harrison and Cortese that wasn’t them as the Radio Omens boys, it was fun.

[jayankles]

We Need to Talk: Part 2

Pairing: Dean x Parent!Reader

Sam and Dean need the Reader’s help with a case involving her expertise but Dean and the Reader need to have a little chat.

Word Count: 2700

Warnings: Dean is rightfully angry in this. Talks of sex. (if I missed anything let me know.)

Written for: @spngenrebingo​​ / @badthingshappenbingo​​ / @spndeanbingo​​ / @spnaubingo​​ / @/spnonewordbingo

Squares Filled: meet the parents /  voice breaking  / single parent au / free space / rocky

Also written for @sdavid09​​ ’s Tale Tellers 2020 Bingo Challenge, covering the ‘Slice of life’ square.

Part 1

FEEDBACK IS GOLD AND APPRECIATED

“Uh, Y/N? Who’s this?” Dean said as Ollie had stopped playing with his toys and started to stare between the two new giants in the room.

Awkwardly, you rub and twist your hands around each other, a nervous act that you had acquired over the years. “This is my son, Oliver. Dean, I think we need to talk.”

“Hey, Sam? Could you watch him for a few minutes please?” When he accepted it, you graciously thanked him, leading Dean up to your bedroom away from prying eyes and ears. It was tough, stepping into your bedroom thinking about the last time you saw him and his brother.

“It’s really good to see you.” You break the silence as you sit on the edge of your bed.

He only nods, obviously it’s awkward, it’s been over three years since you had seen each other. “So, you wanted to talk.” 

Damn it, the man is smart as hell but he could be oblivious to the most obvious things. Or maybe he knew about it and wanted to punish you. Either way, you were screwed and was going to have to tell him, you were going to have to spell it out for him.

“Oliver’s father hasn’t really been in his life-”

“What a douchebag! You need me to find him and beat him to a pulp?” Dean interrupted, his hand finding yours to stop them wringing together. 

“Dean, he doesn’t know. It was a one time thing and he didn’t really have the capacity to take care of a kid, he was scared that he couldn’t keep anyone safe. I wasn’t about to spring him with a kid that he probably didn’t want when I could take care of Ollie myself”

“Was it another hunter?”

“Dean Winchester, I swear. I will lose my shit if you don’t let me tell you on my own terms.”

“Sorry, I just care about you. You know that, right? I’d do anything for you and Oliver.”

Your nose tingled as tears came to your eyes, hearing him say those words meant the word to you. You wished you had someone like that in Oliver’s life and it was your own fault for not telling his father in the first place because you were a scared piece of shit and chickened out on making that one phone call that could have potentially saved any of this embarrassment. 

“Remember that night that shapeshifter took out my leg,and we hid in Bobby’s cabin and you took care of me?” You tried to explain slowly, his eyes widening as soon as the cogs in his head turned into place, suddenly remembering how that fateful night had ended. You couldn’t help but be ashamed of yourself. How you had deprived the man, the man you considered a best friend, the truth. The tears fell but you wiped them as quick as they came, you were not the victim, Dean was. It was of course a shitty thing to do.

“So, Oliver’s mine?” Dean asked, wrapping his head around what you had implied. With your bottom lip between your teeth, you nodded solemnly. Dean’s tongue brushed over his teeth, sucking on them. “And you didn’t think to call me at least to tell me that I have a goddamn son? What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you that fucking selfish? What if I wanted to help out, be there for Oliver, for you? You really think I don’t have the goddamn capacity to take care of a kid - my kid?” 

He was right, of course he was, you were selfish to keep his own son away from him. You were scared and that was still no excuse. You swallowed, sniffling and nodding your head. “I tell him about you, you know.”

“Tell him that he’s got a deadbeat father that doesn’t know he exists?” Dean scoffs, almost a choked out laugh. He was on the verge of tears but the anger ripped right through him; all he could see was red.

“Nope,” you stand from the edge of your bed, scratching at the side of your face. You rummage through your bookshelf and find the box that you had hidden up there. “Quite the opposite actually. Told him you were practically a superhero. I tell him that I used to be yours and Sam’s sidekick.”

You both chuckle at that, Dean more so just because he knows that you were pretty much the Batman when you were at the bunker and more often than not, you were there to save their asses. 

“He doesn’t believe it about me being out there with you because I’m just his mommy but he knows that you’re out there protecting him.That kid’s mind is like a sponge; he takes in all the information you tell him and-” You choked out, hiding it as a faux cough. “He’s smart, he definitely gets that from you. I didn’t want you to find out like this. I wanted to tell you before but I just got scared. I want you to be it Oliver’s life, even if that means you’re not in mine. This is all your decision.”

With that, you left the box on the bed,waiting a few seconds before you tapped him on his thigh, letting him ponder your words as you leave the room and head downstairs to where Oliver and his uncle is. You would have to tell him too.

Fuck.

“You havin’ fun there baby?” You ask Oliver, already knowing the answer as Sam throws him up into the air, catching him as soon as he falls back down. Almost a heart attack? Check. But the feeling all but dissipated when you hear his loud laughter. 

“Yeah,” he laughs maniacally this time, it’s contagious and you can’t stop your own laugh. It was then that you knew the answer. Oliver was having the time of his life. At least he was bonding with his uncle Sammy already, babbling over and over about how he wanted to go again and higher this time. 

“Ollie, you wanna go show Dean your dinosaur bed sheets? He’s upstairs in mommy’s room.” Sam handed him over to you and you lifted Oliver over the stair gate, watching as he toddled his way up the stairs safely. “You want a coffee? I’m sure you and Dean had a long drive.”

“Thank you,” he nods, following you into the kitchen. “So, I’m guessing you told him.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you gave him a lost expression. “What are you t-”

Sam raises an eyebrow, lips pursed before he interrupts you. “Come on, Y/N. Don’t play dumb with me. You know what I’m talking about. Oliver looks exactly like a miniature Dean with a perfect mix of each of your skin tones. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out either. We last saw you about three years ago and Oliver is two. Besides I heard the two of you before you left. It was gross so I slept in the car.”

“I guess, it’s pointless to say that you’re an uncle now, huh?” You scratch at your arm before grabbing the coffee pot and pouring him out a cup. “Sugar’s in the cupboard in the corner and creamer in the fridge, you know, if you changed your preferences from the last time I saw you.”

“The shouting upstairs kinda gave it away, made sure to play with Oliver to distract him.” You were thankful to have Sam, he was a good egg. 

“I am sorry you had to find this way. I wanted to tell you but I didn’t want for us to become a liability. You were better off saving the world whilst I could protect me and Ollie. I didn’t want to be a burden to the two of you, especially when you had already looked after me, when we were young and stupid and I didn’t wanna listen to the two of you. I wanted to be the one to kick the shit out of you guys for lying about what goes bump in the night but the vamps beat me to it so I had to believe that the shit was real.”

“You shouldn’t swear, Oliver could pick up all the bad words you’re spewin’.” Dean says as he enters the kitchen, hand in hand with his son. “There better be enough coffee for me in that pot over there.”

You nod, making him one before you grab yourself an energy breakfast bar from the fridge. “You boys had breakfast?”

*

You made it to the small cafe, giving your friend a small wave as you entered with Oliver, Sam and Dean close behind you. Liah was quick to round the corner and say hello to her friend and her favourite little guy. The tall dudes that came behind her were just a bonus package to brighten her day.

“Hiya, sweetie.” She came in for a hug, squeezing you before she ruffled Oliver’s hair and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “How are my favourite customers?”

“Better now that I’m seeing you.I feel like it’s been forever.”

“It’s been two months, Y/N. Of course it’s been forever but I’ve been busy with Eric and college.” She huffed and you told her that she didn’t have to say another word. You know how hard she worked. It was hard to balance work and college but you knew that Eric was good for her; he was keeping her on the right track, making sure that she slept, ate, took breaks from her studies. He really cared about her.  “Take a seat with those fine ass men and I will take your order after I get some tips from that old geezer over there.”

She left, her notebook shoved into her apron as skipped over to the other side of the quiet diner.

“After you, find a booth anywhere you want, you’re my guests.” You said, waiting for the boys to find a table for the four of you.

“I really hope you’re paying because everything looks so good on this menu.” Dean groaned, overlooking the menu, you had to agree, they did cook some amazing things and you came in so much they made a secret menu item just for you.

“I’m paying but anything over two plates, you pay for yourself. I’m not made of money.” 

Dean nodded, smiling when he noticed Liah come back with her pen and pad. “Am I getting you the Y/N special?”

“You know it, baby. Can you get Oliver some eggs and a little bit of bacon?”

“Sure thing. And for you boys?” Liah quickly scribbled down your order and waited for the boys to make up their mind.

Sam tucks his curtain of hair behind his ear. “Would it be okay to get a chicken salad with an egg white omelette on the side?”

Liah hummed, “any drinks with that?”

“Coffee, please.”

“And for you?” Dean is next on Liah’s list. 

“Here we go, a stack of pancakes to start me off and then a plate of your greasiest breakfast foods you have.”

“Coming right up, you want a coffee too?” 

Dean nods, thanking Liah as she walks away putting in your order, he’s almost certain that she’s spoken the words ‘baby daddy’ but he’s not too sure, his ear may have deceived him.

Liah comes out no later than 10 minutes, you know that everything is freshly cooked so you’re not worried about the wait. It gave you some moments with your favourite men, quietly catching up on the time that you lost with them, you never got tired of hearing their stories; even if it was their lives, you still loved that they were here to tell the tale.

You tucked into your food, watching over your family as they ate. Oliver inhaled his food almost as soon as it was set down on the table, you looked over at Dean and he had finished all but one of his pancakes. Like father, like son. You should have known really. All those years you spent with the Winchesters, all those annoying habits that got on your last goddamn nerve. But you still loved them - as much as you could.

“So I guess I’m finally meeting both of Oliver’s parents, right?” Liah whispers with a smile on her face, looking over your shoulder, making sure that you were out of earshot of the Winchesters and that Oliver was already preoccupied.

 She was happy to meet Dean after all those times that you spoke of him. “Y/N’s told me a lot about you. All good things I promise, which is surprising because she talks a lot of shit about others. You must be really special to her.” 

“He’s good people. One that protects others.” You look at Dean sincerely, catching his lips curl up into a smile before he watched Oliver play with his toy dinosaurs. “Sam’s not too bad either. Now go do your job before you almost get fired...again.”

After your meal, before you even have the chance to reach into your pocket, Dean takes the bill and pays for it all and by the smile on Liah’s face, you know that he left a tip. The four of you were back on your way to the place you called a home.

“So why Oliver? The name I mean.” Dean asks later that evening as Oliver watches his favourite show. 

“Named him after my favourite superhero, duh.”

“Please don’t tell me his middle name is Arthur after Arthur Curry.” He groaned, almost whined. He hated Aquaman with a vengeance, a fish man that controls water.

“No Dean, you don’t have to worry about your son being called Oliver Arthur. He’s Oliver Dean, after my other hero.” You whisper, leaning back in your seat and staring into those gorgeous green eyes of his.

 “The one who has saved my life countless times. The one who I should have told about his son. You’re the one who I loved Dean, the one who gave me the best gift of all even without knowing it.”

Dean doesn’t say anything. He can’t. Not with the tears gathering in his eyes, the ones matching yours. You’ve missed him. Missed the way the two of you would joke around. Missed the way that he would flirt with you. Missed the way that you could sit in complete silence, letting yourself bask in each other's company without ever being bored or would never be uncomfortable. But right now all you wanted to do was kiss him. You wanted him in your life but you couldn’t until you were sure that he wanted to be in Oliver’s life. That he wanted to be in your life.

“I loved you too.” His voice is small, almost unheard but you’ve trained your ears for any noise ever since Oliver was born. He licked at his lower lip, tugging it between his teeth before he whispered again. “I still love you, Y/N.”

His eyes drop to your lips before they drag away seeing Oliver asleep and Sam had already retired to the guest room upstairs. He’s slow, so slow, in fact, that you almost don’t see his movement but you know that he is when you feel his breath on your face. You know he’s there when his palm softly connects with your cheek. You know he’s there when he presses his forehead against yours. You missed his musky smell and you can’t help but press your lips against his.They’re familiar. One’s that you haven’t had the chance to remove from your memory. You didn’t really want to either.

Hands finding their way to Dean’s shoulders, you crawled into his lap, deepening the kiss. You wanted this, you wanted it from the moment you left three years ago but you pulled back. “I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have done that. You’re mad at me and I should have asked.”

You make a move to get off of his lap but he stops you. “Don’t stop. I’m not letting you go again. I’m not losing my family.”

FEEDBACK IS GOLD AND ALWAYS APPRECIATED

Forevers: @super100012​ @lupine-princess​ @plaid-lover-bay25​ @atc74​ @growningupgeek​ @sophiebobzz​ @docharleythegeekqueen​ @poukothenerd​ @grace-for-sale​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @jesspfly​ @supernaturallymarvellous​ @sammysgirl1997​ @roxyspearing​ @mogaruke​ @be-amaziing​ @deanandsamsbitch​ @frankiea1998​ @hennessy0274-blog​ @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​ @iwantthedean​ @capsheadquaters​ @emoryhemsworth​ @notmoose45​ @essie1876​ @cassieraider​ @brewsthespirit-blog​ @its-my-perky-nipples​ @riversong-sam​ @jotink78​ @captainradicalpassion​ @jadalecki-jackles​ @spnbaby-67​ @holyfuckloueh​ @gh0stgurl​ @alyssa6marie​ @esoltis280​ @bumber-car-s @alexwinchester23​ @x-waywardaf-x​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @randomparanoid​ @kellianz​

Dean: @kenmen02​ @ain-t-bovvered​ @deans-baby-momma​  @ericaprice2008​ @shamelesslydean​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​ @wingedcatninja​ @mayasmedberg​ @kurosaki224-new-blog @valerieshubin @milo-winchester-4ever​ @sandlee44​ @ruprecht0420​ @akshi8278​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @dslocum89​ @plaidstiel-wormstache​ @ria132love​ @welldonebeca​ @iamabeautifulperson18​ @starry-chaos @deans-treasure @larajadeschmidt13​  @nyxveracity​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @adoptdontshoppets​

[kaetastic]

Adapting

pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Agent!Reader

summary: After a mission gone awry, Agent Whiskey and Agent Brandy had no choice but to find refuge at an isolated lodging. It seemed only one of the pair seemed open to the idea of adjusting to the change of plans.

word count: 3k+

warning: nothing spicy, just fluff, angst, mention of death, mention of violence, discreet mention of sexual intercourse oop

note: when i was making this, i based this whole thing around cottagecore aesthetic, however, i want to say that there had been some things in said-community where it’s not right. so, i will not associate cottagecore with this. i honestly just wanted to write this very descriptively, then, i was unforunately hit by w****r’s b***k :( i’m sorry i haven’t been writing much, or i haven’t been that active on this platform :(( x

The creaking of decaying wooden hinges shrieked into the light air. It scraped along the canal of ears, leaving back permanent damage. The rusted flakes that coated the hinge looked like a shy amount of shredded slice of chocolate, the thin line would melt into one’s tongue within seconds. Although, the taste wouldn’t be as delightful as the sweet delicacy. The noise of soft rustling from the leaves from birds who have finally arrived back to their home from their exhausting journey danced with the orchestra of petite lambs. Their gentle ‘baa’s lingered longer in the air, the conversation extended in the warm afternoon sky. Well, it could’ve been assumed it was an argument for it went on and on. The weaving of grass padded by their fluffy feet stomped a song of approaching closing to the day.

The scent of freshly plucked out grass (consumed by the wandering animals) lingered in the air, a refreshing smell- almost comforting. There wasn’t much controlling of the weeds and the greeneries for the only two humans who had occupied the lodging had no experience with said- mowing. Whiskey had been nudged at an attempt; however, with scissors, it would’ve taken hours... or years. So, that task was left behind to be the factor for the spurting growth of grass. Even though the memory of Whiskey suggesting the idea of using his lasso to possibly cut the grass still remained in the jar, it wasn’t brought up much. Disasters then lead to a small branching river of fires, nothing the two agents couldn’t stop by scurrying with horrid-to-the-eyes stitched blankets in their arms.

The blanket of wearing-off white paint peeled away from the wooden fence, creating waves of thickness. There were random bulges and bumps, an inconvenience- more like an uncomfortable blotch of area to graze one’s fingers over. Y/N let out an exhausted huff, arms aching from the hefty wicker basket that hung in her arms. It was her underestimating the fresh fruit from the ground that caused the heavyweight of possibly two dozen ripe strawberries to only bring one basket. If she had not thought less of the weight, she would’ve either brought another basket or have dragged her other accompany. Although, he was quite occupied with his own set of chores. All the ones he had proudly chosen. Y/N couldn’t help but be amused at the thought of Whiskey leading the cattle. It would be an entertaining sight. One she had been blessed to graze her eyes upon once. 

While making her way towards the petite cottage that contrasted warm tones to the walls of glowing trees, she couldn’t help but let out an exasperated sigh. It had been roughly a week and a half since they had found shelter in the lodging. Rough weeks for the two, although, rougher for the woman since she had been the one to have to put up with the other. Hours of Whiskey had somehow made her want to regurgitate whatever she had consumed at the thought of him and the drink. 

Even though the mission was going great, the inches at the ending had not been so great. There was joy at the realization that it was going smoothly before it churned into moments of disaster. Chaos. That was the reason for their staying at the cottage. Somehow- as if it was written in prophecy, a perfectly maintained house had resided in layers of forest trees, bedded by greens and towering weeds. The only reason they even stayed there was to stay off-radar from those who were chasing the pair. They stalked nearby. 

Stranded with no way of communicating the agency as there would be a chance those they were running away from would be able to pick up the signal, there was not much they could work with. It only made sense if the two agents had stood in front of the wallpaper, blended within barks. An idea that neither of the two liked. Something they had in common, other than the fact that they were both agents at the Statesman. Whiskey had been rambling on and on about having no way of communicating with Champagne or anyone at the agency. Y/N just wished he would zip his lips up or else she would have the dig through the stacks of books on the Leaning Tower of Pisa’s bookshelf.

The man had tried every possible method of initiating communication. Although the reason he told Y/N was to inform them of the intel they had received, she knew otherwise. Whiskey wanted to do nothing but flee away from the pesky bugs that crawled up his walls. Within a week and a half at the cottage, he had at least complained five times a day about the littlest things. It all piled up to his objection to staying at the ‘abandoned’ cottage, so he says. In parentheses because there was no owner- no one who roamed the property, not even a sole photo frame. However, it was peculiar since there had been animals who did not look slightly malnourished. There had been water in their pots, their grass had been at a perfect height as if gingerly trimmed and looked after, and there were no quivering traps spun by spiders. Almost as if the house was cared for, loved.

With every feathery graze of her foot against the odd shapes of the stone steps that seemed as if it had been watered down by rough bites of water, she made a step closer towards the cosy house. It was indeed comforting, almost too comforting. The wallpapers were warm yellow, brown stripes splayed in random measurements to create a soft pattern to the eyes, and the floor let out gentle cries that played a lullaby if one choreographed the notes.

Despite Whiskey facing the truth and embracing the fact that the house wrapped his chest in a fuzzy feeling that he had never felt before, the words had not clawed out of his throat. He refused to say so even though he had accepted the feeling that he would not usually feel in the puzzles of skyrocketing towers. 

Digging into the soil-packed ground were heavy slabs of stone which were placed as if thrown. The steps were bubbly shapes, set apart from each other quite spaciously. An extended skip hop with a rise of land between each level. The front of the house had already been a sight, the appetizer to what rested inside the walls. Shrubs ruled over the small land, vibrant flowers peeking out of the twigs while packs of rocks splayed over the ground.

A squeaking plea from the door trickled into the tranquil air. Even though the animals that were in the fences within the properties boundaries, a slight smear of noise only made way into the house. Muffled ‘baa’s from the lambs was replied with guttural ‘moo’s from the cows. It was boisterous outside the house, now it’s just a forgotten radio player that caused chaos for people who are in search of the sound. The hallway welcomed a new path to her right, the petite kitchen that she had somehow made possibly to cook meals in. 

Y/N let out a huff as she swung the basket onto the small island in the middle of the kitchen. The aching in her muscles was no different from the time she had her arms chained up in the air. Although, that’s a story for another time. Once she had slipped her way through the small space between the island and the counters, and she had managed to pull out a bowl from the ancient cabinet without having the stack tumbling down upon her, she gingerly went through the fruits individually- with care for any visible faults. That was when the time she was enjoying all by herself eradicated with a blessing of presence by none than the other, Whiskey. Whiskey and his infamous Stetson-Cowboy hat. Just when her head and mindset was in a tranquil and quiet place.

The man let out an exasperated groan, either from his time wasted on scrambling about his horrible time at the cottage or since he had been the one to put at task to chop a bundle of wood. All so they could be warm.

“You know, if you actually helped me, you would be doing much more important work.” Whiskey murmured while his eyebrows quirked towards the victorious strawberries that managed to pass the trial of being without fault. Y/N rolled her eyes at his words. Of course he would jab at the chore she had was assigned to do since it was him who decided to take upon the manly job of chopping up wood. The man had to swing an axe while she hummed a song, caressing strawberries. It was all his fault. Although, every time she confronted him about the truth, he just grunted in frustration before he stormed off. 

“If I left them there, it would’ve been a waste.” 

Whiskey made his way towards the small circle table that resided in the sad corner, the ragged wooden planks he had pierced through had jagged ends, splinters bulging from the surface from his frustration, “It should be enough for two days unless someone demands for more warmth.”

“It was an exceptionally cold night.”

Whiskey hummed, “Sure,” He pushes down the planks to flatten them on the surface before a cranky groan let his lips- most likely from his ageing body. “Goddamn it, these woods.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes at the sight of his hand resting upon his aching back. As she hurled another bright red strawberry onto the cascading pile, she inquired without glancing up, “Did you water the plants?”

“Yea, gave them plenty of water, too.” Her eyes hurled to gaze into his dark ones. His pupils had been painted with slight humour, almost as if he had been amused at what he told her. Y/N did not need any more explanation as she understood what he meant perfectly. She exhaustedly groaned, feeling the weight on her shoulders at taking care of the man as if he was a child. 

“I told you not to drown the pots, you just- I’ve shown you how to do them before.” Y/N hissed out. The thought of the soil being soaked in litres of water had done more than annoy her.

Whiskey hummed, “I must’ve forgotten how to do it.”

The devil crawled onto her shoulder, the corners of its lips curled up at the tainting thoughts it had plagued her with. Anger, frustration, yet, somehow- Y/N did otherwise. She felt her energy balled up from his stubbornness, thrown out of the window, “I’ll teach you again tomorrow, just start the fire, it’s nighttime.”

Heated waves crawled up her arms in shy bites, fearing for what would be inflicted if they had blanketed her whole body in one engulf. Despite the generous percentage of warmth she had embraced all to herself from the dancing flames, she could still feel her toes shiver. The cottage would be warm during the day; however, with cracks in the walls, at night, it was bound to offer the frigid air a place to rest. 

The noise of the fireplace crackling, a sound she had got used to, well, more like forced herself to get used to, trickled along her ears. Y/N would drift off to sleep, her eyes fluttering to shut while the natural music sang her a lullaby. Except, the night did not apply that same ending to the day. No, Y/N could not find an ounce of willingness to melt into the small tattered loveseat even though minutes ago, she had been shaking the whole house with her series of exhausted yawning. It was either from the stuffings of the seat that had been harder than bone, although, Y/N liked to believe that she had got used to the way disobedient stitches would pierce into her back with every shift of her muscle, or the credits for her to wander away from the path of sleep was all handed towards the presence in the living room. The same presence that would find comfort elsewhere- his designated room. 

Whiskey was the one who claimed he wanted the only available room which had no fireplace, unlike the living room, saying he had gone through terrible weather conditions whilst working in missions- something he kept bragging on about, even though Y/N had been on the same list of terrible weather missions about seventy-five percent. “Nothing I can’t handle.” The man would say. That night, Whiskey couldn’t peel his eyes away from the gentle swerving of the flames. His arms were crossed, legs tensed, yet, he could feel himself drift away faster than the time he had spent in his own room. Maybe warmth wasn’t so bad after all. 

“What do you think they’re doing?” Whiskey quirked up, his southern accent smeared along the heated air. It was the first thing he had resounded in the room in hopes of steering him away from the need for sleep. He knew he deserved every fraction of slumbering from the chores he had worked hard for, but he didn’t quiver under the thought of it. 

“Hm?” Y/N grazed her eyes across the room to land on the man who perched himself on an uncomfortable, solid-looking armchair. The main fabric seemed to be a young teal, something Y/N had assumed ever since the day they had arrived at the cottage because no other cloth overlapped or covered said-colour. Other places were patched over with square cloths of floral designs, some atrociously hard to the eyes. 

“Do you think they’re looking for us?”

The woman let out a chuckle before a shiver crawled down her spine, “They just lost one of their best agents, I’m sure they’re doing everything they can,” Y/N spotted the smug smirk growing on Whiskey’s face. Only a second of pride lingered before it flattened back to his pressed lips. “I’m not talking about you.” 

Oh, she knew how to press his buttons. She knew what to say, she knew the perfect speed of the syllables that would fall off her tongue for the best reactions, and the following actions- everything. It had always bothered the man. Sure, they had gone to missions together. And sure, they had been side by side in moments where death stood in front of the door. Yet, the chemistry seemed to only spark up in situations where their adrenaline gets fired up. Y/N managed to bring his hopes up, filling his container by caressing his ego, fuelling up till the brim. Then, within milliseconds, all of it vanishes into the air. Not a speck of dust remained. 

“What makes you think you’re the best agent?” The man finally squeezed out the words. He had been slightly reluctant to the thought of saying it, yet, his tolerance was only so limited. Even though he was holding back the whiplash of his tongue, he couldn’t help it.

“I don’t think it, I know it,” Finding her words amusing as it brushed on a familiar set of egoism from the man, she let out a chuckle, “I’m sure Ginger just says it to butter me up.” Another sentence rested on her lips, ready to be launched into the air when another chilling shiver spiked down her body.

Whiskey quirked his eyebrows in confusion. He pushed himself away from the chair to sit on the edge, “Do you need more blankets? I’ll go grab some more.” 

“All of them are here.” His eyes brushed over the cocoon Y/N had wrapped around her body. It seemed to be a thick mess of heat, possibly suffocating her blood vessels, ready to crack her ribs. Her cheeks reddened. Although, she wasn’t sure if it was from the confession of her using all the possibly blankets offered by the house or the last reminiscent of heat she had to quench upon.

“Well, there’s no point in adding more wood, it’ll just be the same. We’ve already shut every window, you’ll have to bear with it. Unless…” Y/N pulled away from the brim of the blankets where some had poked out to cover her lips, her eyes meeting his in hope. In hope of getting away from the annoying coldness. 

“Unless?”

Whiskey glanced at the fireplace before suggesting the thought while his eyes gazed into hers, “Unless we make use of our body warmth.”

Maybe he should’ve said the words better, he could’ve rephrased the suggestion in a more… approachable setting. Or maybe, it was Y/N’s head that was stuffed in the gut, because his idea had not been comprehended the way he thought of it, “Whoa! I’m not sleeping with you.”

The man could feel his eyes roll at her words, “I’m not saying I wanted to sleep with you, I’m a gentleman- I wouldn’t ask so straightforward.”

“That definitely makes it better.”

Having enough of her opposing to his only possibly good idea, he hovered over her resting body, “Move, I’ll sit at the edge.”

“Such a gentleman.” There weren’t any other suggestions they could take. They had done everything so Y/N wouldn’t feel cold during the night. She had no choice. She had to comply with the much more friendly idea, compared to that of diving straight into the fireplace, if she didn’t want to be shivering all night. 

Slightly reluctant to the thought of slumbering the night away on a cramped loveseat, Y/N shifted away to press her back against the backrest. Whiskey nudged his shoe down before slithering himself into the cocoon. The first thing that came to Y/N’s mind was the extremely close distance between the two, while Whiskey inquired himself to how she had not fainted at such a temperature, especially with the addition of the fireplace. 

“Okay, get some sleep, a day’s waitin’ for us.” No rules had been hung upon the board, no restrictions, yet, during the night, unconscious two pairs of arms slithered to snuggle the other.