#he probably knows brave bird or something

[anistarrose]

See, every time I see a "your icon vs" poll I wind up so conflicted, because I have no idea whether or not to count the tiny sliver of Hooty's birdhouse that's included in my Lilith icon, and Lilith may not be a slouch in a fight given access to harpy mode, but Hooty could still drastically sway some outcomes.

[hedgehog-moss]

Here are 7 little facts about my donkey and how his summer is going :)

1. I received an anon the other day asking if Pirou was still a working donkey who carries my firewood for me, and the answer is yes. I've been cutting some branches from the big cherry tree that fell down the other day, and Pirlouit has been valiantly carrying them to the woodshed—fun fact, for this activity he likes to wear his ears like this:

Probably because this T position is reminiscent of Jesus' sacrifice on the cross, which is how Pirlouit perceives himself as he carries heavy logs for me. He's willing, but his martyrdom should be acknowledged.

Here's Poldine acknowledging it with a nose kiss, because Poldine.

I stopped so they could have their little chat.

2. Pirou has been chatting with a lot of new friends lately—we met these horses on a walk and he was so happy to stop and touch noses with them while making equid noises. Llamas are good with the nose-touching but their llama noises are just less interesting to Pirlouit. He had such interested ears here! "Finally a serious grown-up conversation"

We also met this goose during the same walk and Pirlouit was a lot less eager to go say hi to her. The goose was yelling threats at us and we prudently stayed away, and Pirou was clearly thinking "this bird is doing a better job at protecting her home from intruders than Pandolf ever could" (it's true, Pan assumes intruders are friends until proven otherwise)

3. You'll notice that there are houses in this pic! Our walks got longer and longer until one day we went all the way to the village (it took 1 hour 20min at Pirlouit's leisurely pace). I was so proud of him. I've been trying to convince my friends to go to the village on donkeyback (this requires two people, because you can ride Pirlouit but you can't tell him where to go unless there's someone holding his rope and leading the way)—my friends were reluctant because they still sort of perceive Pirou as the feral animal terrified of everything that he was when I got him. They know he's made a lot of progress but going to town on donkeyback still seemed foolhardy.

So we've been riding Pirlouit in the woods, in familiar environments, and we also went to town with him but without riding him. He was amazingly calm and brave! There's a river that cuts the village in two and the first time we went, we stopped before the bridge, since it's pretty narrow and cars would have to drive very close to Pirlouit, we didn't want to risk it. We just went to say hi to the librarian who lives on the right side of the river, but since Pirlouit was very serene, we did cross the bridge the second time.

He did not care at all about cars driving very close to him (he had one familiar human on either side of him and the drivers were very considerate and went slowly), which emboldened us to stop for a drink on the terrace of the coffeeshop on main street (< also a narrow street with cars driving by quite close to Pirlouit). There was just no problem at all, Pirou let total strangers rub his forehead and was more interested in iced tea than main street traffic.

It was a hot day and we gave him all the ice cubes from our drinks and he chewed them enthusiastically.

4. We made a stop at the pharmacy on our way home because we had another 1 hour 20min walk ahead and I had a blister, and the pharmacist noticed my donkey parked outside his shop and in a determined tone he said, "I want to try something." He took one of the donkey milk soaps from the overpriced-Provence-soaps-for-tourists display and opened the door and offered it for Pirlouit to sniff.

... I'm not sure what he was expecting—for my donkey to go "ohhh this smells like Mother's milk and aloe vera 🥺"—but unfortunately nothing happened.

(4. bis—Sorry, this 4th fact was anticlimactic.)

5. Pirlouit is now the proud owner of a surcingle. Not for equestrian vaulting and not for his log-carrying job because I don't know if it would be solid enough for the weight of a bag full of logs, but I'd like to tie bags or baskets to it to take Pirlouit grocery shopping, now that I know he's okay with going to town :) He even seems to enjoy the adventure, and the attention he gets from children.

And actually I shouldn't write off equestrian vaulting because Pirou is also remarkably chill with weird things happening on his back. I used to be very careful to climb on his back in a quick & fluid way so he wouldn't spook (because he used to! a butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil used to spook him!) but now that my friends are riding him I can confirm we've reached a point where you can climb on Pirlouit's back in any way you want and he'll just be like "...... sure"

6. I almost forgot to mention that Pirou turned 15 last month, according to his ID papers :) Donkeys have a longer life expectancy than horses, they can live 30-40 years on average so he's still a young lad really. Happy 15th birthday Pirlouit :)

7. I wanted to conclude with a nice aesthetic pic of Pirou's shadow on the road during all those walks, like I did with Poldine, but unfortunately donkey shadows do not have the chic je-ne-sais-quoi of llama shadows. Pirlouit looks like a hammerhead shark wearing a tiny fez and that's not his fault.

[mydearlybeloathed]

𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ¹

𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞...

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you have a decision to make: risk everything for the boy who means everything, or set him free of your doubts.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: opla!luffy x gn!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.7k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: use of Y/N, gn reader, angst, garp ships it

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬: august, two birds

series masterlist

It took Luffy some time to figure it out, but he’d been in love with you years before it ever rolled off his lips. 

He always knew he loved you, of course. Luffy knew for certain his life would be incomplete without you there by his side, you his first mate, and he your captain.

You were his very best friend, and after the first six times he’d caught you unawares with displays of his affections—heated kisses against the wall of his grandfather’s house were your favorites—you sat him down and discussed what it meant to be lovers. 

He quite liked the sound of being your boyfriend. 

If it were up to Luffy he would have sailed the seas with you forever, if only he could get away from marine training.

He particularly wanted to get you away. You were strong and brave, but you had a dream, and this little town, Grandpa Garp, and your marine father were no good for chasing dreams.

Besides, you smiled less nowadays. Luffy missed your smile like a lost limb.

Especially now, as he sits with you on the sandy beach of your village. You laid between his legs, head resting on his abdomen, his hat on your belly. His arms wrapped around you, and he felt almost fulfilled just like this.

“When we’ve got our own ship,” he said, “there will be a room just for your books. And no one will be able to take them away from you ever again.”

Your heart warmed at the notion, remembering how your father had done just that earlier in the day, prompting this sunset rendezvous on the shore. “And we’ll have a pantry full of all the best foods.”

“And a masthead to be recognized all across the sea,” he went on in a mystified way he only got when talking about the future. 

You laughed and leaned your head back to admire him. “Naturally.”

To you, this was all dreaming and nothing more. A dream so dear to your heart that it was honestly the only thing holding you together at this point—along with his comforting arms wrapped around you, of course. A dream, an ideal, a wish for something more than the path already chosen for you.

You thought Luffy knew that too, or maybe you hoped he knew. Either way, when his arms fled your body and he jumped to his feet, you confusedly flopped back into the sand.

Maybe you didn’t know your life’s greatest love as well as you thought you did, because Luffy’s dream was more than a dream—Luffy would be a pirate, whether you were with him or not.

“Look!” He pointed down the beach as you shuffled to your feet. The setting sun allowed just enough light for you to spy a ship rocking back and forth along the water, beaching itself on the sand. 

From the way it swayed ever so slowly, and the lack of any light or person, the ship seemed to be abandoned. A lonely vessel to brave the seas.

Luffy latched onto your hand with practiced ease and tugged you along down the shore, kicking up sand all the way there. A shriek full laugh escaped you as he halted suddenly, staring up at the little sloop with admiration usually reserved for you. 

“I wonder what happened to the crew,” you mumbled, creeping up the side of it and bringing him along with you. No name was etched along the side, the deck was littered with bird droppings, and the sail had a few stains. The boat was loved by no one, and probably never had been before.

“Dunno,” Luffy said. His hand left yours so he could jump up onto the deck, leaving your palm an uncomfortable cold. 

You crossed your arms as he inspected the ship, coming back to the railing a moment later to grin down at you. You raised a brow at that look on his face. “Well?”

Luffy leaped down beside you, the sand giving under his feet, and he scooped up both your hands in his. A string in your heart stuttered then snapped at the gleam in his eyes, like it already knew the end was near. 

“This is it.” He was out of breath when he said it. “Our chance.”

You laughed mirthlessly through your answer. “What?”

He tugged on your arms, pulling you to hop onto the boat with him. “We’ll sail out at dawn. What should we call it?” You gaped a moment as he shook it off. “We’ll name it later. Look! Just enough room for your books and some food. It’s perfect.”

You ripped your hand away from his, crossing your arms over your chest and taking a slight step away from him. Terror creeped under your skin. “Luffy, what’re you talking about?”

He looked at you like you were the crazy one. “Our dream.”

His dream, you thought but didn't say. “You can’t be serious, Luffy.”

“I’ve never been serious about anything,” he mused, approaching you to cup your face in his hands so gently, like he was holding his whole world. “But this I’m serious about.”

“Luffy…” Slowly, your hands drifted over his own, taking them away from your face to hold them between you. “But… we can’t survive on our own.”

“We won’t be on our own. We’ll have each other.” If that wasn’t more salt in the wound.

Panic flooded your senses. If he left, you had no one. Surely, he would never leave you. “Yeah, but—but we can’t leave tomorrow. Look at this thing, there’s no way it’ll last a storm out there.”

Luffy pursed his lips, thinking, nodding. “Give me a week. I’ll have everything done by next week.” The wonder left him for a split moment. “We have to leave before next week.”

You gradually caught on. “We start as cadets next week, Luffy.”

“Exactly. We won’t be able to get away after that. This is our chance.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to return his smile, certain your face betrayed your intense reservations. You stepped away from him and turned your back, going to the edge of the little ship. “This is crazy.”

Luffy watched your shoulders shake. He watched you walk away from him, and felt something fragile slip between his fingers. He stepped up beside you, grazing his shoulder against yours. “What’s wrong? Isn’t this… isn’t this what we always wanted.”

The silence to follow was everlasting, and it let you think.

Somewhere inside you, you’d always feared this day would come. When Luffy outgrew the satisfaction of dreaming and truly set out to make it all true. He could do it too. You knew that if nothing else. Luffy was everything you had ever wanted, but his desires stretched beyond just you.

Was it unfair to wish to trap him here with you? Was it terrible to wish his dreams would die for the sake of never leaving you? You reacted to the thoughts, flinching at their truth. 

Yes. It was evil of you. Terrible and evil. A tear slid down your cheek. 

The wood of the boat burned beneath your bare feet. The chill night air froze your skin. Luffy’s shoulder was a brand he didn’t know he’d given you. 

“Luffy,” you whispered. “I… I can’t.”

His confusion was even more crushing than anger could ever be. “But we were just saying…”

“Yeah,” you laughed breathlessly, wiping at your cheek. “We were just saying stuff to make us feel better. That’s what it was to me.”

His hand found your shoulder and forced you to face him. Careful, like he feared you would break, he wiped away the increasing stream of tears. “You know it’s always been more to me.”

“I know.” You leaned into his touch. “I’m sorry. I’m…”

“Afraid?” You nodded into his palm, sniffling. “Of your father?”

Were you really so transparent? “Among other things. It’s just… we can’t leave.”

“Who says so?” Luffy left your side and spun around, gesturing to the little ship. “Once we’re out there, nothing can stop us. We’ll be free. Just like Shanks.”

You’d always held a grudge against Shanks. He was dangerous in your eyes, not for any other reason than the spirit he inspired in Luffy. The red haired pirate was kind and just and brave—and you had admired him as much as Luffy in your youth—but he threatened this peace you’d made. Luffy would leave this little island in his name, and that made you hate Shanks.

Luffy’s smile found you again, never relenting in its passion. He raced up to you and held you by your arms, shaking you slightly. You had no choice but to look right into his eyes. “Let’s leave. Nothing’s stopping us. Let’s go the night before we’re trapped forever.”

Sniffling, your eyes skimmed all over his face. There was really only one answer, in the end, as much as it killed you. “Okay.”

Luffy planted a burning kiss to your forehead, then your cheeks, then your lips, drawing you in as yet another tear traced your face. Breaking away, you hugged him with the ferocity of a person who knew it was their last. 

“We’ll start preparing the ship tomorrow. Then we’re free. Captain Luffy and his first mate, Y/N.”

જ⁀➴

All week you helped Luffy load supplies into the sloop, hidden away in the cove, out of sight from those who would thwart you.

From crates of food to medical supplies you convinced him he needed, to the minor repairs the sloop needed, everything was ready by the deadline Luffy had set. 

“Not yet,” he said through a grin, confusing you. “We need your books.”

You’d gathered the most important ones. The ones you used to read to him on particularly boring nights. Stories of grandeur he’d always promised to take you on one day. Books that held sentiment from over the years, that made him pause when he saw one and remind you of memories held close to your heart.

“Remember this one?” he asked, holding it up and flipping through the pages.

Of course you did. “Yeah. It’s my favorite.”

Luffy laughed and showed you the pages, as if you needed reminding of the memorized little drawings the two of you had scribbled into the margins. Yours were better by far, but you much preferred his little stick figures. Then he turned to the little messages he’d written you, and you’d written him, scrawled onto the pages when you were meant to be studying.

“The Two Birds,” he remembered, starting to read the pages. “It was my favorite too. Two birds of a feather say that they’re always going to stay together.”

Your heart thundered in your chest the longer that book lay open. “But one’s never going to let go of that wire.”

“He says that he will, but he’s just a liar.”

You hated that damn book.

Then came the morning of Luffy’s departure. He woke up before the sun, racing to your house and poking on the window. No one ever came to open it, so he gave it a push, swinging it open to find you were absent from the little room.

Not thinking anything of it, he headed down to the cove, deciding you must be there already.

Only, you weren’t. He looked all around the sloop and up on the deck, but aside from the crate of your books, there was no sign of you. 

“Luffy!” A voice bellowed from up the shore, and Luffy’s head snapped up as horror rushed up his spine. Vice Admiral Garp was racing toward him, tripping down the sandy slope.

Jumping to action, Luffy started pushing on the hull of the sloop, using all his might to get it into the water. Garp wasn’t making good time, his feet sinking into the sand and getting stuck every other step. 

The sloop got free of the beach and Luffy shoved off, chest heaving from exertion and panic, head swimming. He kept pushing and pushing till it was deep enough and he pulled himself onto the deck. 

“Hey!” Luffy whirled around just as you leaped at his grandfather, dragging him down to the sand with you. Holding the man down you looked up at him, and Luffy swore his heart dropped. “Go, Luffy!”

You had never intended on joining him, he realized, jaw setting as he spurred into motion, guiding the ship deeper and deeper into the sea, till he was too far away for Garp to catch. He kept going and going till he was just a speck on the horizon.

And with a throat burning with unspent tears, arm tight in the grip of the Vice Admiral, eyes locked on the sea, you found it in yourself to smile. 

Luffy would never have left you, you knew. He was too good. But, gods, he needed to leave. Your thoughts may be evil but you are not. To trap him would be to kill the light in him you so loved. It was better this way, for everyone involved, probably. 

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Garp growled down at you.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “He’s free now.” The smile faded to make way for a sour frown that would grace your face for decades to come. “I’m ready to join the marines, Vice Admiral.”

His hold on your arm loosened enough for you to lead the way back to town, head ducked, and Garp watched you go. A puzzled crease was in his brow, and something in him admired you. Something in him decided you’d make an honorable marine, even if his grandson would not. 

જ⁀➴

Garp never told your father you’d played a part in Luffy’s departure, and you never paid a too hefty price. He figured cadet training without your best friend was enough punishment. And he had been right on all accounts; you made an excellent marine, one of the coldest and most efficient of your time.

Your superiors commended you. Your peers envied you. As for yourself, well, it was hard to stave off the self loathing. You missed Luffy, but this was all for the best.

He was free, and honestly, that was as good as freedom itself.

Some months later, you were sitting at a desk going over the files of recent prisoners, when a new wanted poster was slapped onto the table. You jumped, glancing up at Vice Admiral Garp, who wore a strange kind of grin on his face.

“Take a look at your boy,” he said, walking off not a second later.

Glancing down, you spilled your ink with how badly you spooked, practically throwing everything aside to pick up the poster. A watery laugh slipped past your lips as you cupped a hand over your mouth, eyes suddenly teary. He’d done it. Luffy was a pirate with one of the highest bounties you’d seen. 

“Care to go after him?” Garp wondered from the doorway. “We need our best on this crew. They’re a dangerous bunch.”

You looked away from the poster of a face you hoped to never see again. You’re not sure what you’d do if you saw him again. “I don’t think I should.”

“Why?” He settled you with a glare. “You’re one of the most promising soldiers I’ve seen. But you’re losing your edge. Perhaps some action away from the desk will bring it back.”

You started to shake your head. “Vice Admiral, I don’t think seeing him would end well for anyone.”

“Perhaps. But you should know he asked about you.” Your eyes widened a fraction.

“You talked to him?”

“And he asked how you’re doing mid fight with me,” he chuckled.

You tried to think about the implications. “He did?” Taking a moment to think, you shook your head. “Respectfully, I decline. I fully believe hell would break loose if he saw me.”

Garp seemed to smile at that, like that’s exactly what he wanted. “Respectfully, I decline your decline. You report to your new post tomorrow.”

Gaping, you chased after him as he stomped down the hall. “But Vice Admiral—Garp! Stop!”

He had the nerve to laugh at your panic, and without thinking you grabbed his sleeve and jerked him to stop. “I’m a coward! That’s why I’m here. I’m not a promising soldier—I’m a dirty coward.”

Garp stared at where your hand held his sleeve, his frown a thin line. “And how do we fix that?” He took hold of your wrist and gripped it tight. “We take you to the source and crush it.” 

His hand found your shoulder. “You chose to stay, cadet. Never forget that.”

Ouch. You nodded swiftly. “I know… Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Garp said through a tight lipped grin.

You gave him one last solid nod and returned to your desk, shoulders stiff and blood rushing in your ears. Your eyes skimmed over the paperwork you had left to finish, all scattered over the floor, some dirtied by spilled ink. Luffy’s wanted poster smiled up at you.

He had always been too good for you, you think, rolling the poster up and slipping it into your coat pocket. Hell would break loose should the Strawhat Pirates cross paths with Cadet L/N, for many, many reasons. Cracking your neck to relieve some stiffness, you considered that may not be such a bad thing.

>>

[dmwrites]

One day, Joe Hills set out with a shovel in his hands. He slung it over one shoulder, whistling as he walked.

“Hey Joe, whatcha got there?” TangoTek asked, carrying blocks of ice.

“Oh, just a shovel.” Joe replied. “But it’s ice to see you, TangoTek.”

TangoTek laughed. Joe laughed. They both walked down the path in opposite directions.

It was a good day for a walk. The birds were singing and the sun was shining. But birds were not the only things singing! Joe walked over a hill to find BdoubleO singing loud and clear as he cut down a tree.

“Sir Joe! How wonderful to see you!” BdoubleO said, wiping away sweat on his face.

“Howdy, BdoubleO, why are you chopping down a tree?” Joe asked. He moved his shovel to his other shoulder so it would not hurt him.

“Why, I am using the wood to build a beautiful house!” BdoubleO said. He had big, twinkling eyes and an even bigger smile. “Why do you have a shovel, Joe?”

“I have a hole I need to dig.” Joe said. “And I must not be late for it. Goodbye!”

“Goodbye Joe!” BdoubleO said, waving.

The day was getting warm, and Joe Hills stopped by a river to get a drink of water. He saw his friend Cubfan at the river too!

“Howdy, Cubfan!” Joe called, waving.

“Hey Joe, whats up?” Cubfan asked. He was holding a raw cod fish and a fist full of glittery red redstone dust.

“I was just taking a break, I’ve been walking for a while today. What are you doing here, Cubfan?” Joe asked.

Cubfan looked all around at the grass and the trees, like he was looking for something in particular. Then he took out five diamonds and gave them to Joe!

“Nothing at all. Got it? If anyone asks, I was drinking from the river, same as you. Alright, man?”

Joe thought the diamonds were a very nice gift, and put them in his pocket. “Thanks, Cubfan! Indeed, I saw nothing!”

Cubfan smiled at Joe- he was always so fun to hang out with. Joe wondered why Cubfan looked like he was sweating.

“So what’s with the shovel, Joe?”

“I have an appointment. Very important stuff.” Joe said. “And I should probably get going before the sun sets! Goodbye, Cubfan! Enjoy your nothing!”

The day was beginning to turn into night. The sky was oranges and reds and pinks. Joe walked a little faster- he didn’t want to be late!

Then he came to a fork in the road, and Joe realized he didn’t know which way to go! He felt sad- was he not going to be able to get where he needed to be on time?

“Hi Joe!” Geminitay said, waving to him. She was walking down one of the paths towards him, carrying a basket full of bright flowers.

“Say, which way is the graveyard?” Joe asked. “I appear to be lost.”

“It’s that way, of course, right through the spooky forest!” Geminitay said, pointing down a dirt path. “But why do you want to go to the graveyard, Joe? It’s so scary there!”

“I have something urgent I must do.” Joe said, shifting the shovel over his shoulder.

Geminitay looked at the shovel, then and Joe, but didn’t ask any questions.

“Well, good luck. Watch out for big scary wolves!”

Joe hurried along the path in the spooky forest. The sun was about to fully set, and he was worried he wouldn’t be able to get to the graveyard in time.

All of a sudden, a huge creature ran into his path. Joe was not scared, though, because it was his friend Rendog!

“Joeth of the Hills, my dude, how the heck are you?” Rendog said.

“I am good, Rendog, but I am afraid I can not stop to chat! I have urgent business to attend to.” Joe said.

“Me as well, good sir, as I saw a rabbit just beyond those bushes and must give chase. Goodbye!” Rendog said, and dove back into the forest.

The moon was beginning to rise as Joe Hills stepped into the cemetery. He creeped along the gravestones, careful not to make a peep. He could hear skeletons rattling in the distance, but he was brave. He stopped at a gravestone with a torch above it, and began to dig. He dug straight down, until his shovel scraped against a coffin. He pried it open, using all his strength.

“Hi Joe!”

“Howdy, Cleo. Did you have a nice nap?”

It was Joe’s best friend, ZombieCleo! She had been sleeping in the grave! Cleo yawned and stretched, bones moving strangely under dead and rotting skin.

“It was wonderful, exactly what I needed! Thanks for digging me up! Let’s get out of here and go get some pumpkin spice lattes!”

“How spooky!” Joe said, and he and Cleo held hands as they went to get a yummy treat together.

——

This is my attempt at a “children’s story”-esque fic, and was supposed to be completed for Halloween. Better late then never lolll

[shitsndgiggs]

Hiya, I know your probably sick of Kenan requests but was wondering if you could write one were the reader gets her some sort of surgery or something and when she wakes up she is still high on the pain killers saying cute n funny things and he finds it hilarious , n he takes care of her

POST SURGERY - KENAN YILDIZ

Still high on the pain meds

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

I could barely keep my eyes open as the anesthesia started to wear off. The world around me was hazy, everything moving in slow motion, like I was watching it through a foggy lens.

My mouth felt dry, and my body was heavy, but I could hear soft voices around me—nurses, I assumed. Then, the one voice I knew better than any other cut through the fog, clear and comforting.

"Hey, baby," Kenan said, his tone warm and soothing. "You’re awake."

I turned my head toward the sound, blinking a few times until his handsome face came into view. He was sitting beside my hospital bed, looking at me with a mix of concern and relief.

His hair was slightly tousled, as if he'd been running his hands through it while he waited for me to wake up. He looked so worried, but I couldn't help the goofy grin that spread across my face.

“Kenan…” I mumbled, the word dragging out like it was the funniest thing I’d ever said. "Your hair… it looks like a bird's nest."

He chuckled, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. "Well, I’ve been a little stressed, waiting for you to wake up."

"Stressed? Pshhh… You shouldn’t be stressed. You’re too pretty to be stressed." I reached out to pat his cheek, but my hand just kind of flopped onto his chest instead. Kenan caught my hand gently, holding it in his, and I giggled at the contact.

“You’re so soft,” I added, trying to focus on my fingers wrapped in his.

Kenan raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to hold back his laughter. “Am I?”

“Mmmhmm,” I nodded enthusiastically, which made my head spin a little. “Soft… like a big, cuddly teddy bear. Are you my teddy bear, Kenan?”

“I guess I am,” he replied, smiling down at me, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Good,” I whispered conspiratorially, trying to keep my voice low. “Because I love my teddy bear… the most.”

Kenan’s smile softened, and he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. “I love you too, babe. How are you feeling?”

I blinked up at him, trying to remember what I was supposed to be feeling. “Like… like a cloud. Or maybe like a marshmallow? I dunno.” I furrowed my brow, genuinely puzzled by my own thoughts. “Everything’s so… floaty.”

He chuckled again, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “That’s the pain meds. You just had surgery, remember?”

“Ohhh, right. The surgery. I survived, didn’t I?” I said, suddenly very serious, like it was a huge revelation.

“Yes, you did. You were so brave.” Kenan’s tone was teasing, but there was also a hint of pride there.

I beamed up at him. “Of course, I was. I had to survive for you… and for the marshmallows. We should get some marshmallows later.”

“We can definitely do that,” he promised, still holding my hand. His thumb stroked my knuckles absentmindedly, and the simple touch felt like the most comforting thing in the world.

“Kenan,” I said, suddenly pulling my hand away and pointing at him with exaggerated seriousness.

“Yes?”

“I have a secret.”

He leaned in closer, playing along. “What’s your secret?”

I waved him even closer, until his ear was right next to my mouth. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” I whispered, as if it was the most important secret in the world. “And I love you… a whole lot. But don’t tell anyone, okay?”

He laughed, the sound warm and full of affection. “I promise I won’t tell anyone,” he said, pulling back to look into my eyes. “But I might have to write it down somewhere so I don’t forget.”

“Don’t forget,” I insisted, suddenly worried. “You can’t forget. It’s too important.”

“I won’t, baby. I’ll remember,” he assured me, kissing the back of my hand.

Satisfied with his answer, I let out a content sigh and snuggled back into the pillow. My eyes were getting heavy again, but I didn’t want to stop talking to him. “Kenan?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re so… pretty,” I murmured, my words slurring together as sleep started to pull me under again.

Kenan shook his head, amused. “You’ve mentioned that,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Good… ’cause you are.” I blinked up at him one last time, feeling my eyelids growing heavier. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

“Always,” he replied, squeezing my hand gently.

[aresojeroso]

★Picnic date with the slasher boys!★

Includes: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt and Ghost face (Billy and stu).

•Neutral pronouns

•Just Fluff!

•Headcanons, of course!

Enjoy!

Jason Voorhees.

★He was a little insecure about it, if you where going to like the place, the food, etc. I dare to say that he was even more nervous than insecure. What if rains instead of being a sunny day?

★He tried his best to be a date, a special moment for you two, sharing the silent treatment, in a soft moment while the birds make their music between the trees.

★The view of you, delicate even if you where strong, in the green of the grass... He could spend hours and hours watching you in the woods, where the spots of sunlight caress you skin so delicate like a whisper... In that moment he only wishes to be a good poet, brave enough to say what he feels when he watches you, make a letter for you, sunlight or moonlight, you where precious to him.

★Probably will bring a bouquet of flowers, his mom raised a gentleman, even if the flowers are from the wild. He thinks they're pretty like you.

Even if you aren't a fan of flowers, probably he will find something that is pretty and for your taste. Crow skulls? Leaves? Little rocks? Don't worry, he has that covered. He may seem busy all the time, but he's a great watcher, he will know somehow.

★Read a book for him, he loves your voice. He can lay in the blanket for the picnic and listen to you for hours. His breath softened, his body relaxed... A day only for you.

★Both of you probably lose the sense of time, you fell asleep and he probably was to hipnotized for you to notice that the sun just set, the orange tones everywhere...

★He couldn't believe that you could look even prettier. Maybe you're an angel!

★He loves you.

Thomas Hewitt

•A picnic? In this place? No, too much sun for you, he doesn't want you to have a sunburn.

•But your puppy eyes make him feel weak, even if his priority is to keep you save from everything...

•Then, something comes to his mind. Now he has a plan, so... He lets you know that is a yes, but not now, you'll have to wait.

•Days and days passed, you wondered what tommy was doing, Hoyt was always complaining about how Tommy wasn't working most of the time, then what he was doing? He promised...

•Until one day you find out why.

•He guided you after he appeared in the door of your bedroom, his eyes where full of energy, he couldn't wait to show you his answer.

•And he had a basket in his left arm.

•He offered to you his right arm, like a gentleman... Luda's Mae work!

•And then... He built a small place near to the trees in the farm, like a little cabin, but at the same time just a place with a ceiling, a clean floor, and a blanket above it so you can get a picnic date.

•He made it for you, just you.

•He loves you.

Ghostface. (Billy and Stu!)

★Billy automatically says no, Stu says a very yes. It doesn't surprise you, sometimes Billy is like a vampire, allergic to the sun...

★Stu gets ready, he's so happy to spend time with you out, in, even the space! He loves everything that means being with you!

★Billy at the very end surrenders to your happiness and the energy from Stu... (And maybe Stu got annoying asf trying to convince him.)

★Both of you, Stu and you, decided to go for a quiet place (maybe that will make Billy more happy with) so, the nearest wood is the best option and at the same time Stu is happy to be in a place full of bugs, leaves, green, greeeeen! Even if he's not such a fan of nature.

★Billy approves the choice, so practically you have green light.

★Road with Stu singing the music from the stereo, Billy with his (fake) face of boredom. And you just enjoying them being them.

★Billy puts everything, the blanket, the basket, even the fucking food, just to save your life... And his too. Stu it's not the best at cooking.

★Once set everything... Billy will lay there, lazily, and will ask you to tell your day, an experience or something. He just wants to hear you.

★Stu plays with you, even hide and seek. Both of you run everywhere, challenging Billy to join! He does after a while (he cant say no for you two, and he knows that... but he got a pride to protect),and he's very competitive.

★They love you.

•Are you sure that you want to go out with him? This was completely your idea, but he's not going to say no. He just doesn't care that much. Someone sees him? It's ok, he'll kill them anyways.

•Obviusly you have to dismiss him to not doing that, he agrees, but only because you offered a sort of sweets for the picnic. (Not because he can't say no toy your puppy eyes, of course not.)

•Internaly he's grateful that at the end you choose a place, still in haddofield, away from every posible person. You two alone, in a beautiful sunny day. (He's not a fan of heat an sun).

•He carries everything for the picnic, but you'll have to cook everything... At least he stoled some candies forma store.

•He takes off his mask.

•You two spend a quiet time in there, his just sit in the blanket, staring at you with his cold blue eyes... For him it's perfect, watching you for hours? It's his favorite hobby, he does all day. (But without you knowing it.)

•You don't know how, but after a while, he can't take off his hands from you. He's grabbing your little hand, your check, caressing your neck, your shoulder... Like if he was admiring a beautiful sculpture. (He's an artistic man, don't blame him)

•Then, while you both eat some delicious stuff (and probably diabetic for him) you enjoy his silence... That says more than a thousand of words.

•He loves you.

Hi there! I hope you enjoy this and feel free to ask something to write! If I had mistakes on my writing, forgive me! English it's not my native language, I'm Mexican! So, if your native language is Spanish too, feel free to ask something on that!

Love to y'all!

[highvern]

Drunk Goggles (Heart Eyes) II [morning after]

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x reader

Genre: fluff, idiots in love

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, friends to lovers, confessions, hand holding and smooches

Length: ~1k

Note: Sequel to Drunk Goggles ! its short but i will probably keep updating/editing it because im a perfectionist and never happy with any of my writing. I have two more drafts for them that I'm editing right now and then I'll probably focus on something new! In other news, Mingyu makes me wanna slut him out put a ring on his finger so bad

When morning comes, you wake to the soft light of dawn gently illuminating your bedroom and a nasty headache. You brave opening your eyes to search for Mingyu, easily locating his large form as he lays on his back on the other side of the bed. Flailing across the short distance between you, you burrow down into his chest and throw a leg over his hips to steal some of his heat against the morning chill. Finger tips trace gentle circles against the smooth skin of his tummy, letting you enjoying the rise and fall of his chest.

Like you were thrown in an ice bath, everything from last night comes racing forward. You remember it all. How you both stayed within a foot radius of one another all night, clinging to each other in the sweltering heat of the club. All the brushes of lips against skin, becoming more and more daring as the night dragged on. Worst of all, right before you passed out, how you whispered all your feelings into his shoulder and sealed them with a kiss.

Today. You think. You need to talk to Mingyu today.

But as he continues to snore quietly above you, you're lulled back to sleep and away from the ocean of nerves that threatens to drown you.

-

The second time you wake is to a hand gently carding through your hair, carefully working away the tangles from tossing and turning through the night. Another hand is tracing the ridges and valleys of your knuckles on your hand laid across his sternum. With a deep inhale, you stretch against Mingyu to let him know you're awake, yawning as you blink against the sun.

"Sorry," He croaks. "didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine," you assure, voice still thick with sleep.

“We should talk.” He sighs 

“Okay.” You whisper.

“I–,” Mingyu starts, the pep talk he gave himself for the past thirty minutes dissolving on his tongue. He swallows in an attempt to get his nerve back but you beat him to the punch.

“Ireallylikeyou.”

The silence is deafening. 

You both knew. Painfully aware of your own feelings as well as each other's. The issue time and time again wasn’t the lack of knowledge of how the other felt but the dread that if you said something and it didn’t work out you’d lose each other forever. But after last night neither of you care to keep up the charade. Mingyu wants to call you his girlfriend, take you to dinner with his family, hold your hand in public and parade you around for everyone to see how lucky he is. And you're in the same exact boat. You want to tell anyone who will listen about how amazing he is, not just as Mingyu your friend but as Mingyu your boyfriend; let him be the first person you see in the morning and last at night; let all the fantasies that play in a loop in your head become a reality.

“I like you too.” He finally breathes, weight lifted off his shoulders. 

It's fascinating how such life altering confessions don't change anything as much as you think it will. For months, you thought that the day you both confessed would make the world start spinning in reverse or the sun would fall out of the sky. But the room is as calm as it was before you shared your thoughts. Sheets ruffling gently to the swirl of the overhead fan droning above you. Outside, cars bustle on the street while the family of birds living in the tree next to your window sing their morning hymn. If you strain your ears then you can hear your downstairs neighbors returning from their morning walk with their yappy dog. Today is like every other Saturday morning but nothing like them at the same time.

“Yeah?” You smile, unable to look at him just yet. Instead you turn your face into his pec, trying to contain the giddiness bubbling under your skin like sea foam.

“Yeah.” Mingyu responds, sighing in relief. He wraps his arms around you snuggly, holding you close while his heart drums wildly in his chest.

When Mingyu decides to rest his lips against your hair, you giggle like a schoolgirl. It can’t be helped. You just confessed to Mingyu like you were two sixteen year olds and it makes you giddy. He likes you. 

“What’s so funny?”

“You like me.” You sing, smile blinding.

Your head is turning towards Mingyu’s, catching the way his eyes crinkle and mouth twists in delight. He’s laughing as well, flustered by the morning’s developments.

“You like me too!” Mingyu accuses.

“I know.” Your face softens as you lose your breath. "Isn't it great?"

“So," he starts, suddenly bashful under your gaze. "Does this mean I can count breakfast today as our first date?”

God, he’s so cute it hurts.

“You absolutely can.” 

The smiles threatening to split both of your faces in half make kissing difficult but you figure it out pretty quickly.

-

When you arrive at the entrance of the farmers market hours later, Ms. Kwon observes you and Mingyu as you stroll to her booth. She notes the way your hands are tangled together, faces bright red, sneaking shy glances at each other. Interesting, she thinks.

Testing the waters, she asks if your boyfriend is going to buy the usual bouquet of wildflowers he gets you every Saturday. You don’t rebuke her use of the word "boyfriend" this time, instead sharing a small yes. When Mingyu responds with an even more ridiculously happy expression than the one he strode in with, she hides a knowing smile. Mr. Lee, who sells fresh pastries further down the market, owes her dinner.

[smutinlove]

bro i loved ur last carl x reader sm

*shy sensitive reader

what if carl and reader fight (maybe cuz she sneakes out of alexandria) then rick scolds him and he has to say sorry to her but she cant help but feel emotional

yes!!!!

im not entirely sure i did the shy part correctly but i tried!!! enjoy love<3

CARL GRIMES X READER

i call this:

"The one that got away"

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You glanced at the walls that surrounded Alexandria. It was honestly pathetic. You couldn't necessarily go outside of the walls without permission. It angered you. Every small move you even thought about was supposed to be told to Carl and Rick first. Everything.

"Tell Rick."

"Tell the leader's son!" It was shitty.

You liked Carl. He was sweet. But sometimes he was an asshole.

You continued your walk around the walls of Alexandria. It pissed you off that you couldn't go outside. But... there was one way.

Maybe you could achieve a bit of freedom and independence in doing so.

You smirked and ran back to the group's house, passing Carl and Rick on the way. You went inside and opened the cabinet. You grabbed a knife and went back outside. It was still very sunny so you would definitely have time to come and go without being noticed.

You went to one of the walls that wasn't very heavily guarded. After a few attempts at climbing the wall, you finally did it, landing on the ground with a small "thud."

The fresh air was enticing. It was so peaceful. You could barely hear the words of the other Alexandrians. You decided to head into the woods, just to explore a bit. You had a knife with you so you'd probably be fine.

"Beautiful," you whispered as you watched a bird fly by. A tear of joy slipped down your cheek. Why? It was incredibly rare to see something so pure. Most birds are usually gutted by Walkers or killed, cooked, and eaten by those who were brave enough to survive.

You were about to continue walking when you felt something on your shoulder.

"Caught 'ya."

You let out a shriek. "Holy shit!"

It was... fucking Carl. "Having fun?" Carl asked with a hint of bitterness.

"What? You followed me?!" How could he follow you? It's not fair. You wanted one moment of peace... even if it was outside of the walls of Alexandria.

"Of course! You don't know what you're dealing with! These walkers... they've become more vicious!" You rolled your eyes. Like father like son.

"Shut up! You're so bitchy! Carl, you're always telling people what to do and it's so fucking annoying."

Stunned, he didn't say anything.

So you said, "Fuck you, Carl! Go to hell!" Tears threatened to fall down your cheeks, but you held them in.

"You ain't any better! Why would you even sneak out?!"

"To have some fucking freedom! The walls of Alexandria make me feel trapped. I feel like an animal caged up in there! And you... and your fucking father are taking over everything!" A few tears slipped down your cheeks, making you feeling hopeless.

He forcefully took a hold of your wrist, "We are going. Now."

Carl started dragging you, not caring about your protests or exclaims.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You and Carl reached Alexandria in ten minutes due to his speedy pace.

By this point, you had fantasized about killing Carl in a hundred different ways. And you'd also shed a few more tears before he started yelling at you. Again.

You rushed inside, avoiding everyone.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

"You really had to yell at her?!" Rick scolded. There really was no reason for Carl to yell at you or talk to you in a disrespectful manner. "Well, no, but—"

"—But you need to apologize."

"She shouldn't have snuck out! It's dangerous," Carl retorted.

"And she is old enough to make her own decisions. I agree, it's dangerous and she shouldn't have snuck out. But that was her choice and you should have respected that." Carl stayed quiet this time, letting Rick finish.

"—You can't treat people like that, Carl. Son, I love you. But that was horrible. I want you to go apologize to her. Don't lose her 'cause you said something stupid. She's a good one. You do not wanna sit on a rocking chair at ninety and call her, the one that got away."

"I'm sorry, dad." Carl said. "I know. Now, go."

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Carl entered the house with the yellow door (group's house), Carl sighed and called out, "Hey, Y/N, are you here?"

You sat on the couch, curled up into a ball. Your cheeks were red and puffy from crying. "Hey, oh, Y/N," you heard from behind you.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean all that bullshit I said. I was horrible."

Carl sat down next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You looked up, eyes watering again. "Don't cry, please. I'm sorry. I'm the biggest asshole on the planet. I'm so fucking sorry, Y/N."

You nudged closer and wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tight. "I'm sorry," he whispered in your ear once more.

»»————<3———-««

damn guys

inside i was dying frrr

did anyone catch the catwoman/batman reference? :D

anyway this was fun!!! send more reqs yall<3333

he totally wants me<3

[miraclewoozi]

HIGH FIDELITY, PT 2. -c.hs

getting back on the horse is hard, and failing to hit it off with the cute gamer guy you went for a drink with last night has the potential to be your love life’s last straw. but when up and coming rockstar VERNON unexpectedly canters into your life, you find yourself asking one very important question: do you have it in you to saddle up, one more time?

( PART ONE )

pair ; vernon x fem!reader.  content ; strangers to lovers.  up-and-coming musician!vernon x record store owner!reader.   fluff, angst, smut. (MINORS DNI). warnings ; drinking + alcohol is a big theme pretty much throughout. mentions of past relationship breakdowns. reader experiences a lot of stress, anxiety and feelings of doubt, reflected in self sabotage. mentions of sickness (acute). wc ; 12.2k ( ~38k total. ) disclaimer ; this fic was inspired by rob + liam in the series high fidelity and is therefore pretty influenced by the show. if you’ve watched it, you’ll probably see a lot of similarities! i just felt so drawn to vernon in this kind of role that i really wanted to try and put a spin on it. i do not claim that every idea behind this is original. notes ; been working on this one for a while. hope you enjoy it.<3

smut tags : making out. some groping. some 'first time together' shenanigans. oral (m rec) & ball sucking hehe. he has a big cock because i have an agenda to push. implied f rec oral. implied multiple rounds. PLEASE let me know if i’ve forgotten anything.

The clock on your bedside table reads somewhere between 4:00 and 5:00 in the morning when you resign from trying to fall asleep and force yourself to sit upright, fed up of tossing and turning between your now too-creased sheets, brain stuck in a foggy, hellish limbo. Your mind won’t shut down. Your body won’t rest. Birds are starting to chirp outside and you can hear them clear as whistles through the cheap window that doesn’t quite seal shut to your left. Your eyes squint in preparation as you reach for your lamp and flood the room in yellowish light, drawing your knees up to your chest. 

You’ve spent so much time in your own thoughts that you’ve begun to feel systemically unwell. Your stomach twists and aches, your eyes are so dry it hurts to even blink and there’s an ache behind them that started as an annoying throb, but has grown over the hours into a roaring flame. From the hairs on your head all the way down to your toes, you feel like you could burst. 

You wish you had it in you to cry. To let it out. Keeping this pent up is no doubt making you feel a hundred times worse, and you think it would be nice to feel something other than the endless swooping of the spiral you’re well and truly making your way down. Your alarms are going to go off in a few hours. I can’t let anyone see me like this, you think. I can’t work in this state. 

You throw ideas around in your head for a little while, thumbs tweaking over your phone as messages get typed, edited, deleted, and repeat. Part of you thinks maybe you could manage. Just tough it out and put on a brave face, because actually, what right do you have to be hiding away when you’re the one who ran out one of the nicest guys you’ve ever met? But you just know something will go wrong, even if you tell the boys that you need to camp out in the office for the day. When you need peace and quiet, you can never find it behind that creaky old door. When was the last time you got a full admin day without being called through to help with a problem or deal with a drama? And truly, the idea of facing the world right now makes you feel like you could be sick. 

Sick…

Could you—?

You’ve never enjoyed taking sick days, even on occasions where you’ve really needed them, when you’ve woken up feeling like you’re knocking at death’s door. Sometimes, you swear the guilt that it brings ends up making you feel ten times worse than whatever your ailment is doing to you in the first place. But your exhaustion lets impulse take hold and you’re already sending a message into your group chat with the boys before you can talk yourself out of it, biting the inside of your cheek as the little indicator pops up on your screen. Delivered. 

Well. You’re committed now, whether you like it or not. 

Not feeling so hot. I won’t be in today. Take it easy, I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Sorry. 

You pick your comforter up off the bed and wrap it around your shoulders like an extravagant, well-padded cape, trudging your way through the apartment until you’re stood, barefoot and cold, staring into the bright light of your refrigerator. Somehow in the seconds between pulling the handle and now, you’ve managed to forget what is what that you were hoping to find. More out of spite for how the bulbs are currently bleaching your retinas than because you want it, you pull the milk from its home in the cradle of the door and fix yourself a glass to take with you and put it on the coffee table back in your living room.

Without an ounce of grace, you throw yourself onto your couch: your head rests against the arm of the seat like you’re in the apartment of a sketchy therapist, and you’re wrapped up in your duvet as if it’s a sleeping bag, treating yourself to the luxury of a slightly different ceiling pattern to stare up at. And it could be the change of the room that finally manages to drag you under, or it could be the total fatigue of the emotional rollercoaster that has been your last twenty four hours…

But your glass of milk goes completely untouched as you eventually drift off, either way. 

Of course, it’s not for nearly long enough. Barely an hour after finally managing to fall asleep, your phone starts to vibrate harshly against your chest. You tap at the screen blindly, hoping to shut off what you assume is your alarm; when it’s still buzzing a few seconds later, you reluctantly open your eyes, fighting back a sob. It’s not your alarm – it’s an incoming call. Why would it be anything else?

“Hello?” You grumble, putting the phone on speaker and resting it on the couch cushion next to your head. The energy expenditure of holding the device up to your ear feels mammoth.

“Ohh, you sound terrible.” Seungkwan’s voice sounds more taunting than it does concerned, but you pin that down to a symptom of his over-familiarity. “You’re sick?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“I heard there was something going around,” Seungkwan tells you. Great, you think. Good to know. Now go away. “Yeah – one of my cousins… ah, what did she say…”

“Hey, man, I really-...”

“That’s it. She said she was love sick.”

You sigh so hard you think it’s a miracle you don’t pass out.  

“Don’t–”

“You better make sure Vernon gives you plenty of Vitamin D, today,” he harps on. “It’s quite the disease. I heard it can really–”

“Seungkwan!” You snap, finally, grabbing your phone and barking straight into the microphone. He doesn’t need to know that you’re stretching the truth to its absolute limit, but you certainly won’t let him keep believing that you’re calling out just to get laid. “Knock it off, okay? I’ve been awake all night.” 

(You suppose you should be glad that that much really is true.)

He falls silent, and you don’t know if he totally believes you, but a few breaths later, you hear his voice through the speaker again. He’s softer, this time. Quieter.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, hesitating a moment before he goes on. “Try to get some rest, all right? I’ll swing by after work and check in with some food, and… if you need anything, just text me?”

You’re immediately overcome with guilt at the sharp change in his demeanour, and it does nothing to settle the way your insides are writhing inside you. You clear your throat and pull your duvet up to cover your face, squeezing your eyes tightly shut. 

“I will,” you mumble. “I’m sorry – thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says. You can hear the front door to his own apartment slam shut and his breaths pick up as he starts to rush down the stairwell of his building. “I’ll see you later.”

“Okay.”

“Hey–” he rushes, before you can hang up the call. “Rest up. Run a bath, drink plenty. Love you.”

You cringe a little, but not enough to stop you from saying it back. Sort of. 

“Yeah. You too.”

Nobody could ever accuse Seungkwan of not being a man of his word. As irritating as he can sometimes be, as determined as he is to get on your every last nerve, you’ve never known him fail to come through on a promise. 

Not long after 6:30pm, you hear a series of knocks at the front door of your apartment. You’ve managed to squeeze in odd shifts of sleep throughout the day and though your head is still in a mess, you feel significantly less irritable than you were this morning. Cleaner, as well. One of your (several) naps took place in the bath, where you laid there and let the hot water draw some of the anxieties clean out of you to float towards the ceiling amongst the lavender-scented steam. 

In the knowledge that Seungkwan’s expectations of you are quite literally zero, you don’t bother to fix the one leg of your sweatpants that’s rolled up before you heave yourself off the couch and go to let him inside. He stands in the doorway with a bag of takeout food in each hand, all wind-flushed cheeks and that brilliant smile, and you feel like your stomach settles almost straight away when you see him.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, toeing off his shoes as he comes inside and lets the door close behind him. He sets the bags down on top of the small table by your front door and cups your face in both of his hands, squeezing your cheeks and frowning down at you. “You look awful.”

“Wow, thanks,” you huff, squirming to get out of his grip. “I was going to say I feel a little better, but…”

“You look exhausted,” Seungkwan clarifies, picking up the bags once more and following you through to your living room as you start to walk away from him. “I’m sorry about earlier, I didn’t realise you were actually… this bad…”

“This is doing wonders for my ego,” you grumble. “Keep it coming. Really.”

“Oh, you know what I mean.”

“No, no. By all means, continue to kick a girl while she’s down. Super classy.”

Your best friend flops down onto your couch with an exaggerated huff at your petulance. You curl up in the armchair instead, bringing your knees up beneath you. 

“Do you think it was something you ate?” He asks, refusing to give into your bickering and changing the subject matter instead. 

You shrug your shoulders at him. “I don’t-... I mean, it was more of a head… thing?” 

He sucks his front teeth. “What, like a migraine?”

“Sort of?” 

“What do you mean, ‘sort of’?” He asks. “You’ve had a migraine before. Was it that or not?”

“Well, it’s difficult to-... It wasn’t exactly…”

“Okay.” 

Seungkwan interrupts you as you hesitate again, swinging his legs off the couch and resting his elbows on his thighs, leaning as far towards you as he can while still remaining seated. He wrings his hands, plays with his fingers, lips drawn forward in a stern-looking pout. 

“I thought something was up this morning on the phone, but I didn’t wanna push it because you sounded mad. Now I know something’s wrong with you. What’s going on?”

You swallow hard and cross your arms over your chest, dropping your gaze away from Seungkwan’s very intense one. 

“Nothing,” you lie. 

“Bullshit.”

“Seungkwan!” 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs, tipping his head forward and running his hands through his hair. He’s never been a coddler, always one to prefer the tough-love approach: it’s no surprise that he doesn’t appear any softer when he looks back at you. “But we both know that’s crap.”

You can feel your pulse starting to quicken the longer he stares you down. It’s as if he’s burning two great big holes into your head, laser-beams where his pupils ought to be. He’s the master of the hard stare, and you know he won’t move until he hears the truth. 

Maybe I should just tell him. Maybe it’ll help…

“Look, I don’t care how famous he thinks he’s gonna be, if Vernon upset you last night, I’ll kick his ass myself.”

And there are the alarm bells. In hindsight, maybe you should’ve seen this coming; it’s not that far of a reach, and given the few facts that he actually knows, you can’t blame Seungkwan for jumping to this conclusion. It’s quite effective in triggering you to speak up, too. (You think that maybe, this was on purpose. Attack where you’re likely to defend. He knows you like the back of his hand.) In an instant you’re sitting upright with your feet firmly on the floor and you’re shaking your head at him like a dog trying to get itself dry. 

“No, no, no, back it up,” you rush. “It’s nothing like that. He hasn’t done anyth-... God, it’s not him.”

“It better not be,” Seungkwan tells you. His voice still has that dark edge to it, and you’re not sure how exactly to stamp it out. “I’m serious. If he’s done anything-...”

“He hasn’t,” you say more firmly. After a couple slow breaths, you clasp your hands together, swallowing your pride. “The food’s gonna go cold. Go grab a couple glasses and-... whatever else from the kitchen—”

“Only if you tell me what’s happening,” he says, slowly pushing himself up to stand. 

You don’t assent with words, but you don’t have to. You look up at him and nod a couple of times and that’s all he needs. Seungkwan strides off through the doorway, leaving you to shakily exhale away the stress that is once again squeezing at your lungs.

Once the containers are laid out on the table, food is divided up, utensils are handed over and he’s poured you each out a glass of soda, Seungkwan sits back on the couch. He doesn’t prod you, or ask you again – he doesn’t need to. You know what he’s waiting for. Even so, he allows you a few mouthfuls of your dinner first: seeing as this is the first substantial thing you’ve eaten all day, you silently thank him for the generosity.

“All right,” you say, gulping down a few mouthfuls of your drink to re-lubricate your throat. “Okay. Fuck – you’re gonna wanna make yourself comfy for this.”

The only way he moves is to pick up one of the food cartons and settle it on his thigh. Oh, how you wish you were joking. But if he really doesn’t want to heed your warning…

“You know I went on that date the other week?” You ask, biting the inside of your cheek. Seungkwan nods at you, lifting a helping of noodles out of the carton.

“With the hitter and quitter,” he confirms. “I remember.”

“Right,” you say. “Well – okay, wait, no. That’s a bad start. He didn’t do anything either.”

“I mean…”

“Not the time.”

He lifts his free hand up in surrender and gestures for you to continue as he slurps his food into his mouth. You clear your throat, bouncing one leg so rapidly that the decorative candle holder on your mantelpiece starts to rattle. 

“So… it was before the date. I was on my way to the bar, walking down past-... that convenient store. You know the one Chan keeps going into ‘cause he’s got the hots for the person who works there on a Friday night? Yeah, I was walking down that way. Actually running on time for once, and-...” 

You falter, sucking a breath deep into your lungs. It causes your next words to come out more strained than they ought to. 

“I ran into Jaehyun...”

Seungkwan swallows just in time to prevent himself from choking on his mouthful of food, but his eyes still shoot wide and you think his chest convulses a little bit anyway. His is a name you haven’t mentioned in a while, but he clearly hasn’t forgotten who it belongs to.

Because, well… how could he ever forget? 

Your ex-partner. Jaehyun.

The ex-love-of-your-life, Jaehyun.

The man who asked you to marry him after three and a half years of dating only to leave you, heartbroken and alone, six months later because he wanted to travel the world and there was too much that you couldn’t bring yourself to leave behind, Jaehyun. 

How could Seungkwan forget when he had been one of the people who helped drag you through what was not only the worst break-up, but one of the worst times of your entire life? 

Aside from the other week, it’s been… nearly eighteen months since you saw him last. Almost a year since you let yourself talk about him. Even sitting in your own apartment with a box full of your favourite food in your hands, a sense of dread chills you from head to toe just going so far as to say his name. But you’ve started, now, so you might as well finish.

“…right outside that stupid fucking store.”

Your voice cracks when you say it and you hurry to set your dinner down on the floor to free up your shaking hands. You cup them over your mouth, closing your eyes and taking a couple of deep breaths. It helps enough for you to be able to continue, even if you still feel a bit like you’re drowning.

“I thought he…” Seungkwan starts, putting his own food down and slipping off the couch. He comes to sit on the arm of your chair and puts a hand around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “When did-...?”

“Yeah, uh… apparently he moved back a couple weeks ago,” you swallow, leaning into your friend’s embrace. 

Seungkwan looks down at you and you look up at him, all misty-eyed and drained. There’s more. He knows there is, but now he waits for you patiently, giving you all the time in the world to get through this and to let it out and to lean on him. He doesn’t butt in. The quiet feels worse than the talking. 

“He’s with someone now. They, uh— they met in Paris. Just over a year ago.”

Seungkwan finally dares to make a noise and breathes out heavily, so loud that it’s almost a groan. 

“Y/n,” he sighs, tightening his hold around you. “Shit – I’m so sorry,”

You shrug, staring across the room to where your record player sits on top of a low cabinet, lid open, table collecting dust. 

“For months, I sat here feeling… fucking, sorry for myself,” you say, barely above a whisper. You swallow around the lump in your throat and shake your head. “This whole time, refusing to get back on the horse ‘cause I thought maybe-... but he was-…”

The room goes quiet again as you lose the words you want to say and Seungkwan just rubs small circles against your arm. The problem is that you know this doesn’t explain why you called out of work today. It doesn’t explain what happened last night, and you’re not sure where to begin with that either. Especially seeing as the last time your best friends saw you and Vernon, the sparks flying between you were nigh-on visible. 

“I thought I was handling it, you know?” You sigh, leaning harder into Seungkwan’s soft sweatshirt. “Like… yeah — it hurt… but I was okay? I guess. And then Vernon fucking… kissed me last night—“

“He— what?”

“Hang on — no, he… I wanted him to.” You fumble with a thread hanging off the sleeve of your t-shirt as you talk. Why is this all so difficult? At the same time, why does it feel so juvenile to say out loud? “I just… I don’t know…”

Your wall clock tick, tick, ticks away in yet another painful fall of silence. 

“How bad was he?” Seungkwan asks when you struggle to elaborate. 

You assume this is an attempt to shatter the gloomy atmosphere and lighten your mood a tiny bit; it works, you suppose, because despite yourself, you laugh drily. Not without nudging your shoulder into his ribs, though. He deserves it, and you won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that it does make you feel a little better.

“He wasn’t,” you groan. “Don’t—… you’re such an ass.” 

He pulls himself away from you at the sound of your laughter and moves to sit on the edge of your coffee table instead, careful not to disrupt any of your food while keeping himself close enough to you that he can hold both of your hands in his and soothe his thumbs over your palms.

“You freaked out on him, didn’t you?” 

He sees straight through you and truthfully, no part of you is surprised. No part of you tries to fight it, or reject his assumption, or even question why that’s the first explanation he leapt to. You just nod, looking to where your best friend’s fingers are currently the only things holding you together. 

“Ran out his apartment like the building was gonna burn down,” you sigh, still laughing but harshly now. He squeezes your hands gently, urging you to look up at him. You do, slowly. “It’s ruined everything.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Seungkwan tries, narrowing his eyes at you when you scoff your obvious disagreement. “No, seriously. Anyone can see the poor guy’s got it bad for you.”

“Even if that’s right, you didn’t see his face,” you say. “God, he isn’t gonna wanna look at me ever again.”

“Have you spoken to him today?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Maybe if you explain what happened–”

“Oh, sure,” you snort. “‘Hey, Vernon. Sorry for running out on you like a lunatic yesterday. I ran into my ex recently and when you kissed me, it reminded me of being with him and I got freaked out and had to dash. Hope you don’t mind.’ God.” 

You try to draw your hands back but Seungkwan just holds onto you tighter. “We’ll workshop it,” he says firmly. “Do you like him, or not?”

“Seungkwan–”

“That wasn’t an option.”

You scowl at him. “It’s not that easy.”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“Yes,” you stress finally, groaning through it. “Yes – I do.”

Seungkwan’s face lights up for a second, his eyes sparkling, lips lifting. You’re half expecting him to say ‘I knew it’. Half expecting him to try and be all deep and philosophical and a little bit motherly, as he sometimes does, especially when you’re upset. He’s always been a sucker for a happy ending. But this isn’t a happy ending, you remind yourself, squaring your jaw. It’s past that, already. It isn’t going to happen, you just know it. 

“Stop being so fucking hard on yourself,” he tells you, squeezing your hands one last time before he lets go and moves back over to the couch so he can finish eating before his food goes cold. “If anyone can pull this off, it’s you.”

You’re not sure what’s in the air right now, but this has been one of the busiest weekends that you can remember. Both yesterday and today, almost as soon as the store opened, your first handful of customers came through. Apart from about an hour around lunchtime, you don’t think there have been any periods of time where you’ve not had someone milling around the shelves. It makes a nice change, really, from some of your weekend shifts – hours at a time where the dust starts to settle and hardly anyone disturbs the bell above the front door. But this means you’ve been in full customer-service mode basically all day, and you’re starting to feel exhausted from keeping up the persona.

Still. There’s only an hour or so left — you can push through, and when you get home, there’ll be a nice, hot bubble bath with your name written all over it.

The bell chimes again just as you finish serving a group of teenage girls. You watch them scurry away, excitedly giggling about their new albums and you look towards the door with a smile already plastered on, all ready to greet the new customer until your eyes lock with theirs.

A ‘hey, how’s it going?’ stops somewhere midway up your throat, a pathetic little ‘huh?’ sound escaping you in its place. You’re frozen all of a sudden; you and the man who just came in both stand perfectly still, staring at each other like a pair of bunnies in headlights. It takes you forever to register the strap wrapped around his fist, the purse that hangs just below his grip. My bag, you think to yourself, but the voice that narrates your thoughts is hushed for the first time ever, too. Everything in your head gets sucked away into a little vacuum. The only thing left is him.

“I-… thought you might want this back.” Vernon breaks the quiet first. Your throat runs dry. In a flash, the noise in your brain is as loud as it’s ever been and in amongst all the chaos of thoughts and questions and apologies, you can’t pick out the words you actually want to say. 

He slowly unravels the strap from around his hand and takes a few steps closer to you, inching towards the counter. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he hurries to assure you. Your heart aches for how reserved and nervous he looks. It doesn’t suit him. You hate it. “It’s okay. I’m… really sorry, about the other night. I didn’t mean to—” A deep breath. “I’ll see you around.”

Vernon lays your bag so delicately on the wooden surface that you could be forgiven for thinking he was handling an explosive. Then, he takes one, two, three steps back, before turning and heading to the exit.  

“Wait—” you call out to him, finding your voice at the most critical time, right as his fingers curl around the door handle. “Wait—, please.”

He spins back around to face you as you slip out from behind the desk. His left brow lifts higher than the right but otherwise, he gives nothing away. He doesn’t even say anything as he stands there, pushing his hands deep into his pockets. 

You swallow around the golf ball sized lump taking residence in your throat and clasp your hands together in front of you, wringing and twisting and accidentally popping one of your knuckles in the process. “I shouldn’t have run out on you like that. It wasn’t fair.”

Vernon chews this over in his mind but ultimately just shrugs his shoulders at you. What is there to say? He surely agrees, but he seems so adamant to ensure you don’t feel bad about it happening that he just… says nothing. Again. It’s kind of maddening, even if you fully get why. 

“No, I mean it,” you try again. “It wasn’t you. It’s nothing you did.”

“We really don’t have to do the whole ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ thing,” Vernon offers, his cardboard-like posture softening. There’s even a little bit of a smile on his face, you think — but it’s not the kind of smile you’ve grown used to seeing on him. It doesn’t reach his eyes; he looks kind of like someone who has read their cards and accepted their fate. “Seriously. It’s okay.” 

“It’s not,” you stress, stepping closer to him again. You sigh deeply. There’s something almost relieving about the position you find yourself in. You suppose this really is crunch time; it’s now or never. “Can we… talk? About everything?”

“What? Here?” Vernon asks. 

You glance around the store, at the few people doing a very poor job of pretending to be minding their own business, and frown. He’s right. This isn’t the time, or the place. The problem is, you have a feeling that if you send him away, he may not decide to come back and listen to you. In his defence, why should he? He’s already done more than the decent thing and brought you back that which you abandoned in his apartment; several of your previous conquests would have shoved the bag and its contents either in the trash or the back of a closet somewhere. This is more than you could have hoped for. 

You hold a finger up to him and ask him to stay where he is, and though he looks a little bewildered at the gesture, he ultimately doesn’t move. You rush off out the back to the storeroom where you banished Chan an hour ago, on account of his raging hangover and your low tolerance for his whining about it; you’re genuinely surprised to find him working, and actually alphabetising the records you got in a few days ago like you asked him to.

“Hey. Can you do me a huge favour?” You ask, not announcing your arrival and subsequently scaring Chan out of his skin. He jolts as he hears your voice and claps a hand to his chest, exhaling hard. You don’t entertain his dramatics, though. There’s no time. “I need you to close today.”

“Huh?” He asks, still acting as if he’s trying to catch his breath. “I thought–”

“Please.” You wave him off, knowing he’s about to ask about the task you gave him. “We can look at this together tomorrow. You did great. It’s just an hour – is that okay?”

He chews the inside of his lip, almost looking disappointed. To be fair to him, he did look like he was in a groove when you appeared, but he doesn’t argue with you as he puts down the record in his hand and picks his phone up off the table to his right, silencing the catchy tune that was playing while he organised. 

“Of course it is,” he says, holding his hand out for your keys and starting to walk towards you. “Everything okay?”

“It-...” you start, faltering as you place the store keys in his waiting palm. Your default response was about to be ‘it’s fine’, but you’re trying harder these days to stop pretending, especially around him. So you swallow, nodding your head, flashing him a tight lipped smile. “I’m about to find out.”

“Oh? Is it…?”

A brief pause later, not before cringing at how predictable you’ve apparently become, you say, “yeah.”

Chan claps you on the shoulder as he skirts his way around you, leaning in to give you a sort of side-along hug on his way. You stretch your arm across his waist and pull him closer for a moment, trying to drive home how much you appreciate this. He doesn’t comment on the uncharacteristic display of affection, and you want to find out why, but Vernon isn’t going to wait around for you forever. 

“Go get him, tiger,” Chan whispers.

“I owe you, big time,” you promise. 

He winks at you before he disappears through the door and you follow him briefly, but as he does a round of checking in with your customers and making sure they don’t need any help, you hurry off to grab your jacket from the office.

Vernon is exactly where you left him when you come back out into the storefront, hands unmoved from where he stuffed them into his pockets earlier, rocking back and forth on his toes and looking around from wall to wall. You think perhaps he took your request slightly too literally and the fact that even his feet are in the same position as before you left is reminiscent of a puppy commanded to stay, but if anyone here is at liberty to start poking fun, you think that it certainly isn’t you. Instead of trying your luck, you lock the office door and walk up to him, returning his polite, yet slightly awkward smile.

“You’re not, like, super busy right now or anything, are you?” You ask him. 

His brows crease and his eyes shift side-to-side before they land back at you. He shakes his head.

“Did you maybe wanna… take a walk?” 

Vernon nods this time, still not moving or even pulling his hands out of his jeans. His elbows are locked out and the length of his arms means his shoulders are raised quite some way. He could not be more uncomfortable looking if he tried, but he doesn’t say no and nothing on his face gives away that he wants to reject your proposition, either, so you’re the one to take that tentative first step towards the door. When you do, he follows. 

You left the store at least ninety seconds ago and still, neither of you have said anything yet. Honestly, it’s taking all you’ve got not to just burst and let it all out; it’s building and building and your stomach feels tight, but it’s less of a knot and more like a tightly-coiled spring. His eyes are dipped to the ground, incredibly aware of every step he takes, in what you realise now are a gorgeous pair of platform boots tucked up beneath his baggy jeans. He’s at least an inch and a half taller than the last time you saw him. 

“Your friend,” Vernon starts finally, pausing before he continues.  “Is he always so… you know?”

“What did he say?” You ask, peeking over to him. Trust Chan to start getting —

He hurries to shake his head. “Nothing. He just… kept looking at me. In a weird way, like…”

“Like he knows something you don’t, and he’s not gonna tell you, but he wants you to know that he knows it anyway?” You supply.

“Yeah— exactly like that.”

“Mm. That’s just… Chan.”

“Huh.”

“It’s worse when they’re together,” you say. He breathes out a chuckle and you feel his elbow bump into your upper arm. The distance he put between you when you fell into step outside the store has reduced, you realise now; you’re not sure when, or if it was on purpose. Did he move closer once you started speaking? Was it just so he could hear you better? Or…

Either way, despite being side-by-side, he still feels a hundred miles away from you. This isn’t enough.

“You get used to them, though,” you add, trying to stay on track. “I swear.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Jokes aside, he still won’t look at you for longer than a few seconds, which tugs at something deep in your chest. Discomfort clings to you, and even if it does seem like you’re making some progress, you can still feel unease radiating off him. A cheap laugh at the expense of your friends who aren’t here to defend themselves won’t fix that which you took a wrecking ball to a few nights ago. This needs to be heartfelt and genuine, and more importantly it needs to come out right. 

But when you open your mouth to speak, still searching your brain for the right way to explain why you acted the way you did, there’s nothing. 

How wonderful would it be for the perfect explanation to just tumble from your lips calmly and evenly, and for it to make everything okay? But the reality is that your throat runs dry as petrol fumes make their way through your parted lips. You hold your tongue again just a second later, sighing quietly. 

You’re starting to feel like a lost cause when Vernon breaks the silence for you, again. He slows his steps to a halt when he eventually says, “so.”

“So,” you repeat, freezing mid-stride as you go completely tense. It’s like you’re staring into oblivion’s wide open mouth. “I-… don’t really know where to start. I’m sorry.”

“The beginning’s usually pretty good?” He offers.

You nod. “How much did you want to know?”

“Whatever you’re comfortable with telling me.”

If anyone on this Earth deserves a medal for their patience, it’s Vernon. You still haven’t turned to face him yet, your eyes fixated on the traffic signal some fifty yards away from you and you’re pretty sure if someone poked you too hard, you’d shatter into a million tiny pieces. But, as impossible as it seems all the while you try to get your thoughts in a reasonable order, you manage to swallow your nerves. 

It’s crunch time. It’s now or never.

The explanation you give him is messy. Disjointed. But once you start, it becomes difficult to stop: you end up sparing very little detail and circle back on yourself no less than three times. You tell him about how you were engaged and about the breakup, the run-in, your shitty date, gesturing with your hands to emphasise the most important parts. When you start to move again, Vernon makes his steps bigger until he’s walking alongside you. He never interrupts you. He acknowledges every sentence when you pause for breath. Encourages you to keep going when you fall over your words. 

“… and—... I guess I just lost my head. But it wasn’t your fault.” You swallow hard before you continue, “I’m… really sorry.”

He nods slowly, taking his time to digest everything.

“Don’t be,” he says, lightly bumping into your side. It’s a very small reassurance that he’s not going to walk away, but it means much more to you than you’re sure he meant it to. “I get it.”

“I—”

“No, like. I get it.” 

“Yeah?” You ask, only understanding when you catch the very pointed look in his eyes. 

“For sure.”

Of course, it makes sense. Vernon’s young. Attractive. Nice. Talented. He must have been with people before. Hell, you think he surely leaves a trail of broken hearts everywhere he goes. He gets it. 

“We dated for like… five? Years. Her name was Nari,” he tells you. 

A few seconds later, you watch him start to shrug off his jacket on one side and expose one of his toned arms to you. You’re about to tell him he doesn’t need to air his dirty laundry out if he doesn’t want to when he twists at his elbow; you catch sight of a tattoo you remember having seen the night he wore that black singlet on stage. Two lily flowers blooming up the inside of his bicep. 

It’s so pretty. Intricate. The line work is beautiful, the petals shaded with hundreds of little dots. You wanted to ask about it that night, but you never found the right chance, and now—

Lily?

It takes you longer than you’re willing to admit to join the dots, but when the penny finally drops, so does your jaw. Vernon slides back into his sleeve with a big, entertained smile and a little shrug. 

“Mhm.”

“Oh my God?”

“I know.”

It’s not that you’re laughing, per se. This isn’t your baggage to laugh at, no matter how unbothered Vernon seems to be by what he’s just revealed. But you do rub your hand over your face and cover your lips, shaking your head in disbelief as a breath that contains the edges of a bemused chuckle escapes you. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind; if anything, it appears to give him a boost to keep talking.

“I got that on our third anniversary,” he goes on to explain. “A couple years later… She called it quits. Turns out there was another guy. I thought about lasering it, but… apparently that hurts worse than getting the tattoo in the first place, so…”

“That’s…”

“It’s whatever,” Vernon says, shaking his head. “They’re my mom’s favourite flowers too. That’s what almost everyone else thinks it’s for.”

You haven’t looked back up at his face since the unveiling, not until now. When your eyes meet again, Vernon tilts his head in the direction you’re walking and continues down the street, spinning now so he’s walking backwards but still facing you. “I just mean... It’s okay. I get it.”

The moment you’ve caught up to him and you’re back by his side, he turns to face front, just in time to avoid a collision with a streetlamp. The lingering awkwardness starts to fade to nothing; you can see it in the way he holds himself, and you can feel it in the way you do, too. Everything relaxes. Your neck, your shoulders, your fists. It all ebbs away. 

“It really wasn’t anything you did,” you clarify once more. 

“So you keep telling me,” Vernon quips, tips of his ears turning pinker by the moment. “It’s okay, I swear. Do you want me to walk you home?”

You accept his offer and lead him down a side-street, picking up a completely unrelated conversation now to purify the air. Before you really know it (what was that everyone always said about time flying?), you come to a stop outside your building. Vernon’s sentence fades away when you stop moving; instead he stills, glancing sideways, and you nod confirmation at him with a lopsided smile. 

“This is me,” you say, reaching into your back pocket for your keys. “So…”

“So,” Vernon echoes, glancing around again. “Can I like, lay my cards out, real quick?”

You nod. 

“I like you.” He shrugs, now toying with the leather bracelet around his wrist. “Like, a lot. But…”

But. You feel like you should have seen this coming. But. But. Of course there’s a— 

“I’ve got some shows coming up out of town and I need to see some family, I’m not gonna be here from tomorrow for like, three weeks...”

Oh. 

Well. On one hand, it’s not what you thought. It’s not a flat-out rejection. It’s not a shut down. On the other? You bite the inside of your cheek and look at your hands, playing with your keys to keep them busy. Under any other lens, three weeks isn’t really a very long time at all. You’re pretty sure that the milk you bought yesterday is going to last longer than that. But three weeks… this early into things? 

That’s longer than you’ve even known him.  

“… and I thought, if you wanted — I could… take you out. When I get back. For real. Maybe.”

Oh.

“Like…?”

“Like… on a date,” he confirms, rubbing the back of his neck. “One where I’m not like… fresh off stage and all gross and shit.”

Relief replaces anxiety on both his face and yours when you let out a quiet laugh. 

“I’d really like that,” you say, twitching fingers suddenly still. “Yeah.”

“I’m not asking you to like, wait around, or anything,” he says as he pulls his phone out of his pocket, fumbles with it, and just barely manages to soften the fall with the toe of his boot before it lands screen-up on the concrete. “We’ll just see how it goes. And it gives you some time to… deal with things. Whatever you’ve gotta do.”

You nod, crossing your arms over your chest as he bends low to pick his phone back up, smoothing his thumb over the small scuff on the protective case. It seems remarkably undamaged otherwise. 

“And if you’re still interested, then…”

“Interested?” You ask with a small grin. 

“Aren’t you?” Vernon asks.

“I—...” You think about playing coy, but when he’s been so open with you about where his head’s at, it feels so silly and childish to bother pretending. That playful ‘I might be’ gets swallowed back. Instead – “Yeah. I am.”

“Cool. Then we’ll figure it out. At your pace, okay?” 

“Okay.”

He grabs his earphones out of his other pocket, slides one in, and is about to step back away from you when you do something you don’t really expect yourself to. Something you’ve never done to a man you can barely even say you’re ‘seeing’. You close the space between you and, as if to lock in your words, push forward onto your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Thank you,” you say when you fall back down to your heels. If he wasn’t so dumbstruck, you feel like he’d be about to ask what you were thanking him for; as it stands though, he’s frozen, blushing, and the only reason you can tell he’s still alive is because he can’t stop blinking at you. “For… giving me another chance.”

He still can’t quite find his voice, so Vernon just shakes his head, clearing his throat. (No need, he wants to say.) Alas, his lips just open and close soundlessly.

“I’ll see you in a few weeks,” you supply for him. He takes in a deep, mind-clearing breath and nods his head.

“I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

You see the apples of his cheeks lift as he presses his thumb against his phone screen and restarts whatever song he was listening to when he walked into your store. A brilliant smile consumes his face. It only grows as he turns away from you and walks off down the street. 

For a second, you think it’s all very smooth. Movie-like, even.

Then, he stumbles over a crack in the pavement. When he glances back to pray you didn’t watch it happen, he catches you snickering into your fist. He shakes his head and continues on, leaving you to fumble with your key in the lock before you finally let yourself inside.

You overslept. 

Sort of. You heard your alarm go off straight away but you might have snoozed it, and when you heard it sound for a second time, you turned it off completely, telling yourself that you just needed one more minute. You just wanted to rest your eyes for a few more seconds. There wasn’t any danger of you going back to sleep.

Twenty minutes later, you practically fell off your mattress in a panic when you realised that there had, in fact, been a big fucking danger. 

You were still able to wash up well and make it to work on time, but you had to sacrifice your morning coffee stop after seeing that the queue at the register was going to take too long. For years, you’ve refused to consider yourself to be the kind of person who relies heavily on a caffeine kick first thing in the morning, but today? It’s barely ten thirty and you’re seriously flagging: like you’ve never known what energy is, like you’ll never feel it again. 

(You blame the fact that when you first looked at your phone today before rolling back over, there was no ‘good morning :)’ text to entice you out of bed. But you’re trying really hard not to think about why that is, nor why it was such a deciding factor.)

So, when the bell above your shop door jingles and you’re forced to stand upright (a change your back doesn’t thank you for when it has to readjust from the previous hunched position you had adopted over the countertop), you groan quietly. Nonetheless, your tired eyes crease at the corners as you smile at whoever it is that’s come across the threshold.

After a second, your eyes refocus; when you can finally make out their features, it’s as if someone gives you a shot of adrenaline.

“Oh my God,” You say breathlessly, brushing your hair back and moving to stand up fully unsupported. “I thought you weren’t back until Friday?”

“Change of plans,” Vernon grins, scratching the back of his neck. “We drove through the night. I got home like… an hour ago.”

This is the first time you’ve ever seen him dressed down, and hell, does he look incredible. Gone are the ripped jeans, scuffed boots, the leather jackets and chunky rings. Grey sweatpants and an oversized white hoodie (alternatively: the brightest outfit you’ve witnessed him in thus far) drown him, blurring out his usually so distinct frame. You pin both of these things as the reasons you hardly recognised him when your eyes were refusing to cooperate. Paired with what Seungkwan would call ‘dad-sneakers’ and completed by messy hair and tired, soft eyes?

If you could jump his bones right here, right now… God, you would. 

“But hey, it’s nice to see you, too,” he adds facetiously.

“Quiet down,” you groan, fighting the urge to run over and envelop him in a hug. You’re not sure that he’d mind if you did, but you also don’t quite know if you’re ‘there’, yet. “Obviously it’s good to-...”

His arms, both of which have been stuck behind his back since he arrived, now move around to the front, revealing to you a takeout cup and a little brown box from the coffee shop down the street. 

“Oh, shit. It is so good to see you.”

Vernon laughs, coming closer until he can set them both down on the counter. “If it’s wrong, Seungkwan gave me your order, so.”

You start to wonder how on Earth your employee and your… Vernon managed to have this conversation without you knowing. Does Seungkwan have his number? Did they happen across each other on one of their socials? Did Vernon call into the store while you were out in the bathroom a little while ago and ask? But whatever happened, you quickly stop caring to find out: popping the lid off your cup, the aroma of your favourite coffee immediately fills your senses. It’s so overwhelming that you think you might start to cry.

“Oh my God. You’re the best,” you sigh, wrapping your fingers around the cup and taking a long sip, eyes rolling back into your head. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Vernon laughs, rolling up his sleeves before folding his toned forearms over his chest. “I got you a-... okay, they only had those gluten free brownies in, and I’ll be honest, I don’t know if they taste the same as the normal ones but… like, he said you hadn’t eaten today and I know you said you liked brownies before, — if you don’t like those ones, it’s okay! I can go back, it’s–”

He trails off, cheeks turning pink when you tilt your head to one side and feel your brow go soft. He asks, “why… are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re so cute,” you say, putting the cup down gently so as not to splash your drink all over the counter. 

“Huh?”

“You really didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to,” Vernon says, shaking his head. 

You almost definitely hear a floorboard creak and quiet shushing sound from just around the corner towards the back room. You don’t call out your eavesdropping friends for trying to listen in on your conversation, though: it barely even crosses your mind. Besides... you can’t take your eyes off Vernon, even if you wanted to. He looks so soft. Like he needs to sleep for a whole twenty four hours, and he must feel like it too, but he came here first. 

“So,” he starts, tapping his right thumb against the inside of his left elbow. (The reason why he came so quickly starts to become evident. He just couldn’t wait to ask.) “You don’t have to commit to anything right now…” The silver of one of his rings glints with every tiny movement. “…but, I was just wondering–”

Smiling at him over the top of your coffee cup, it feels like your heart could burst.

“I was just… wondering… if you’d thought any more about letting me take you out?”

You’ve been texting him almost every day since he left. He’s sent you a hundred and one pictures of statues and cool buildings and nice looking food and the sky, and far more animals than you think you’ve ever actually seen in real life. You’ve spoken to him about your strange customers. What’s going on with your friends. Sent him recommendations for songs that you discovered on obscure albums that you pulled out to play over the speakers. 

One night after one of his shows, he called you. He was a little bit drunk at the time, chilling in his hotel room with a pizza as he informed you that he’d snuck out of an after-party super early but couldn’t get to sleep. With an audible pout, he went on to confess that he was feeling kind of lonely, that he just wanted to hear your voice: one thing led to another and you stayed up talking to him until he passed out at nearly 4 o’clock in the morning.

To put it simply… 

“I’d still really like that,” you say. It’s incredible to you that you can see every one of his features brighten up. 

“Okay,” he breathes, unwinding his arms and pushing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants now instead. “Okay, cool. I’ll… text you later? We’ll figure something out?”

“All right,” you agree. “Now go rest up, okay?”

He laughs as he swears that he’ll go back home and get some sleep, and with that, Vernon takes his leave. You’re once again alone, but this time you have a drink that could only hope to make you feel as energised as he does, and a treat nowhere near as sweet as him. 

You aren’t complaining, though, and neither are the two men that miraculously reappear the moment the door closes again. 

The smile Vernon leaves on your face doesn’t falter for the rest of your day.

You suppose a big part of the reason you haven’t dated anyone in a while is because you can’t stand the ‘talking stage’. That weird little limbo where you’re never sure if it’s too early to make certain jokes, where you’re checking and second-guessing all your texts, where you can’t figure out if someone’s really into you or if they’re just blowing up your phone to pass the time. The awkward small talk. The ‘getting to know each other’ part. The ‘why haven’t they replied yet — was it something I said?’ anxiety. 

Thankfully, with Vernon, that’s not really something you have to worry about. 

While he was away, you learned that he’s the kind of guy who just spews random facts at you in the middle of his day and then forgets to check his messages for three hours. Sometimes those facts are interesting things about himself. Other times, you’ve known him to shoot you a text just to announce [ just found out tigers have striped skin as well as fur. wild ].

(On one such occasion, Chan caught you giggling at your phone in the middle of a quiet Thursday afternoon, zooming in on a picture of Vernon’s heart shaped birthmark. This put a swift end to checking your messages while you’re at work.)

[ btw, im allergic to peanuts ], he told you one evening. Completely unprompted, just after dinner time. You spilled half of your glass of juice down your front in panic when you put two and two together and scrambled to ask him if he was okay. [ near miss, dw about it! just felt important haha ], he replied, and your response was just a picture of your newly stained t-shirt and a request for him to never do that to you again. 

He can drive — at least, he has his licence — but he doesn’t have a car. He chooses public transport, and he tells you that it’s because he likes not having to worry about fuel prices and it’s ‘healing’ to zone out of reality on the train until he reaches his stop. He tells you that he came up with the melody and two verses of one of his favourite original songs on the bus to his parents house, and one time, he dropped a giant cockroach on a class field trip to the zoo because it tickled when it crawled over his palm and he didn’t like it. 

(You later discovered that this piece of information was triggered by the appearance of a large bug in his shower.)

Last night, as you settled into bed after a whole evening of back and forth, he told you that he has all five of the top scores at the piano game in the arcade downtown, and that he has an approximate 75% success rate on claw machines. When you replied saying you hadn’t been to an arcade in about two years, he was horrified. Enough to send 7 broken heart emojis back to back, as individual messages. [ shakespeare himself couldnt write a tragedy that sad ], he said. 

But, harrowed as he was by your admission, it did give him an idea. 

That idea is exactly how you end up standing side-by-side at a basketball shootout game on Friday night. It’s how he ends up winning one of those cute reversible octopuses — true enough, on a claw machine — which he gives to you immediately. It’s how you watch him hunch over a pinball machine for twenty five minutes before he loses his ball, how you end up tied after four games of air hockey, at which point he calls it quits while citing a ‘cramping hand’.

It’s also how you deliver his ass to him in not one, but two rounds of bowling.

“All right — all right,” Vernon laughs, holding both his hands up in defeat as your final ball takes out all ten pins at the end of the alley. “You made your point. Damn.”

You shrug your shoulders as you walk back in his direction, picking up your glass from the table and sipping your soda through your straw. 

(Though the arcade has an entire menu of cocktails, some of which you’ve never even heard of, the thought of navigating an evening alone with him under the influence of alcohol was totally unappealing after last time. Thankfully, Vernon agreed. You quietly think that being stone cold sober has made tonight even more enjoyable.)

“I told you,” you say when you finally sit down. He puts an arm around your shoulders straight away. Naturally, like it’s instinct. Like it’s a position he’s adopted a few hundred times before. “I’m undefeated.”

“We’ll see,” he says, tapping out a rhythm on the ball of your shoulder. “I still think you just got lucky.”

“So,” Vernon says once your leisurely stroll back lands you outside his place, kicking the toe of his left sneaker into the concrete. “What… are the chances that I get a do-over?”

You blink at him a few times, tilting your head. “What do you mean, a do-over?” 

Does he not think this went well? Gods, it’s probably the best first date you’ve ever had, but what on Earth else could he mean by that? Did you say something earlier, and not realise? Has he not had fun? What does he m–

“I got these new coffee beans,” he says. “While I was away — and I figured something out with the-… the machine? So— ”

Ah. There he is.

You smirk at him, patting the outside of his bicep and rolling your eyes. When you glance down, Vernon is pulling out his key, thumbing over the ridges down the one side. He reaches for the door, happy to take your teasing as confirmation that yes, you’ll come up. Yes, he gets his ‘do-over’...

…but leave it to you to fall for the world’s dorkiest rockstar. 

As he slips the key into his apartment door, there’s a steady pressure against the small of your back: the same one that’s been there ever since he gestured for you to step out of the elevator before him. One of his palms rests over the fabric of your t-shirt and you feel weirdly tingly because of it. He gently guides you inside once the door falls open and doesn’t move away when it’s locked again behind him. 

With an anticipatory shiver, you turn around to face him. You make a point to leave just a matter of inches between your chests. To have your eyes soft, patiently waiting.

Vernon’s hands are - for the first time ever - cold when his fingers hesitantly come up to either side of your face, tilting your head up so that he can see you better, unobstructed by any shadows. You gasp at the contrast between them and your flushed, warm cheeks. He swallows thickly at the sound.

“Is this… okay?” he asks, gaze darting between the space separating your eyes from your lips. “We can slow it down, if you want. I just—...”

Your own hands find home against his chest in response, fingers curling into the muscle beneath them. Not harshly, definitely not so much that it could hurt — just enough that it makes him puff himself up a little bigger. Enough to make him square his shoulders as he drags a thumb over the corner of your mouth. 

“Vernon,” you say quietly, pressing him backwards. Balling his t-shirt into your fists, you send him stumbling over his own feet before his shoulders find the wood of the front door. A quiet grunt escapes him on impact, but he just holds you closer. “Shut up ‘n’ kiss me. Please.”

Clumsiness aside, the moment he obediently ducks his head and presses his smiling mouth to yours, you feel weightless. Even when you tilt forward onto your toes to meet him halfway, it’s as if you’re not even touching the ground anymore: clouds beneath your feet have you floating. Everything about it is so very different from the last time.

It’s so much easier. Not just for you, either – you can feel it from him as well. Your collective baggage has been left out in the hall, barricading the door, shutting out the hesitation and nervousness and leaving you together, wholly alone, to just… be.

Vernon gets increasingly more brave as the seconds tick by. When you separate for air, his head tilts the other way, lips a little parted, hot breaths fanning over your skin as he meets you again, and again, and again. It’s the perfect give and take. Firm one second, waiting for you to chase him the next. The soft sounds he starts to make are amplified as his tongue presses against your bottom lip: he tests the waters, groaning into the heat of your mouth when you so happily invite him into it. He drinks you up for all you’re worth. 

One of your hands uncurls from his chest and moves up to his head instead, threading into his hair at the top of his neck. It feels just as soft as it’s always looked, sliding through your fingers. A gentle pull makes him whine. He draws away from you. His lips are pink and shine with the gloss you touched up in the elevator’s mirror, his lids are heavy, his pupils blown, and looking up at him feels like staring into the sun; you physically can’t keep your eyes open, but it’s so hard to look away. 

You tuck yourself into his neck as a compromise, laying gentle pecks everywhere you can reach. His aftershave leaves a bitter taste on your tongue as you touch the tip to a stretch of skin just beneath the harsh cut of his jawline, but the way he shudders and drops his hold down to your waist makes the sting in the back of your mouth all worth it. You only stop when one of his hands sinks lower still and he squeezes at your ass, making your eyes roll back.

He mistakes your surprise for hesitation, though.

“Is this… okay?” he asks, tipping his head back and pressing his crown into the door. Though he doesn’t withdraw his palm from your backside, he also doesn’t pinch at you again. You press your hips backwards, pushing into his touch to encourage him, with this green light he starts to knead at your cheek over the top of your skirt.

“You have no idea how hard it is to keep my hands to myself around you, do you?” You say, slipping one up the hem of his t-shirt as if to prove your point, splaying your fingers out over his stomach. 

He takes a shallow breath, hovering with it in his lungs, holding back from saying something. You get there before he can.

“I want you,” you say certainly, pulling back from where you’ve been nestled into his shoulder so that you can look him in the eyes again. He releases that breath and his face flushes when his eyes find yours, moving both of his hands back up to your waist, tightly gripping at you as if his life depends on it as he nods. 

“I just… I really don’t wanna mess this up,” he adds quietly. “I—”

When you kiss him again, hoping to further assure that you’re just as into this as he is, he reciprocates, sure. You can tell straight away that there’s a little less bite though — a stiffness to him. He doesn’t relax into you the same way he did a few minutes ago. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, falling back onto your heels. Is this because of the way things went last time, or are you going too fast for him? Selfishly, you hadn’t considered that could be a barrier. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want, you know that right? It’s okay.”

You make to step away from Vernon, unwinding your arms from around him to give him some space but he refuses to let you go too far. His hold on you is just as firm as ever.

“Trust me, I want to,” he says. “It’s just–...”

You stay silent, waiting for him to finish. He chews at his bottom lip, his blush deepening right in front of your eyes. To try and steady him, you lay one of your palms over each of his biceps, saying, “Whatever it is – it’s all right.”

“I just… haven’t been with anyone since…”

And when you laugh, it’s not at him (at least, not for the reason a fly on the wall might initially assume). You drop your forehead down onto the muscle of his chest, feeling his heart’s erratic rhythm underneath his clothes as you loop one arm back up around his neck.

“I thought you were about to tell me something awful,” you chide him through your giggles, lightly swatting at his shoulder. He starts to loosen up beneath you, his own body beginning to shake with laughter too. Those strong arms pull you flush against him, the gentle shift of his weight from one foot to another rocking you both side-to-side. “Like– like you were secretly married or you realised you didn’t actually like me, or something. Jesus.”

He stays quiet for another few seconds, but even without speaking, you can feel how he shakes his head above you. You look back up at his face and brush his hair out of his eyes, fingers lingering on his brow when you’re done.

“It’s okay,” you tell him for the third time. The last wisps of anxiety start to fade from his eyes, replaced with the same look he’s been wearing since he showed up at your apartment door earlier this evening. “I don’t care — I promise, I’ll go easy on you.”

The kiss that follows lands hard and with it, Vernon succeeds in wiping your brain empty. You can barely remember what you were even giggling about a few seconds later. 

“Don’t want you to go easy,” he insists against your lips. Then, he’s wallowing up your breathy sighs as he licks into your mouth again, pressing your tongue with his own, reminding you that he’s absolutely not incompetent, just rusty. 

When you make it into his bedroom, confessions and various articles of your clothing forgotten out in the hallway, you separate from each other long enough for you to be able to to lay one hand on his bare chest and push him down onto the mattress. He bounces on the foam and pushes up on one elbow, watching as you sink down to your knees and press kisses down his stomach while your hands deftly take care of the button on his jeans. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” You say to him as he lifts his hips up and lets you pull both his jeans and his boxers down in one sharp movement. 

“M’not gonna want you to,” he laughs breathlessly, pushing a hand through his hair as he kicks the remainder of his clothes all the way off and nudges them away to the side. “But yeah. Okay.”

He looks so pretty like this and you can’t help but think he’s even prettier when the first time you curl your fingers around his length, his jaw falls slack and his fingers curl into the bedding underneath him. You drink him in and he watches you do it; your mouth is watering, desperate to feel him press down on your tongue, and you feel a pull towards him that you’ve never felt towards anyone before. 

“God,” you whisper, shuffling on your knees to get a little closer. 

“Okay?” Vernon asks. He tilts his head to the side and you nod up at him.

“Just… had a feeling you’d be…” you trail off, tugging a few times to feel its thickness in your fingers. Why are you mesmerised by it, a little? What the hell has gotten into you? “But it’s actually bigger, and—”

He laughs quietly and falls back onto the bed, crossing an arm over his eyes. “Shut up,” he groans. 

“Yes, sir.”

You lean towards him and gather saliva on your tongue, dragging it from base to tip before closing your lips around the head. He gasps softly and holds onto his next breath, angling his head back further; you give a satisfied hum and slide a little further down. 

The glide is made smoother by the spit your tongue left behind and that which mixes with his pre-cum in your mouth. As you start to bob up and down, some dribbles out past your lips so you start to move your hand, too, smearing the mess all over his cock. When it bumps the back of your throat — and on assessment, you realise there’s daylight between your lips and your fist — you squeeze your eyes closed and whimper softly, holding him in place while you adjust before you can take him deeper. 

“Fuck— just like that,” he gasps out in a shattered groan when you start to move a little more fluidly, no longer too intimidated by your gag reflex preventing him from slipping down your throat. Your hand and your mouth work in tandem to get him riled. Every sound he makes feels like someone injects lust straight into your veins. When you look up at him from between your dewy lashes, you ponder that you’d watch him fall apart from this angle a hundred times a night forever and still not get bored. 

Your jaw starts to ache from the thickness of having him in your mouth and the way he’s restraining himself from fucking his hips up to meet you tells you that he’s too polite to ask you for more. You suck harshly one last time before pulling away with a ‘pop’, using only your hand to pump his length as you shift down to gently suck one of his balls into your mouth. 

The sound he makes is so fucking melodic. You think he’s made a similar one before when he lifts into a falsetto, and you’ve never felt more powerful than you do right now. Knowing you have someone with such a commanding presence eating out of your palm could really do something dangerous to your ego. It’s a bit of a miracle, therefore, that you recognise his desperate tapping at your shoulder, but the second you feel it you settle back from him, looking up at his impossibly tense abs and his blissed-out face.

You catch on quickly and feel your features split into a grin at the realisation. When it takes him a second, you know it’s because he’s still trying to remember the mechanisms it takes to breathe. Bless his heart. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, pushing himself to sit upright and running a hand through his hair. “It-… fuck, that was so…”

“What happened to ‘I don’t want you to go easy’ huh?” you tease, resting your chin on the top of his left thigh, grinning up at him. 

“I’m gonna come if you keep going like that,” he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief at himself. “And trust me — I want to, but…” He swallows hard. “Not yet.”

You nod slowly up at him, starting to get up off the floor. You stop in your tracks when he says, “I’ve gotta taste you first. Please.”

Maybe it speaks too much to the quality of some of your previous lovers, but his desperation takes you a bit by surprise. You blink at him, ignoring how your thighs burn with the position you’ve frozen in. 

“If— that’s okay?” He adds. “I’ve… been thinking about it? A lot. Especially since-”

“Shut up,” you breathe, finally standing all the way up. He shuffles back further onto the bed and you quickly move to straddle across his hips, one hand coming up to hold his jaw in place when you’re in place. “Of course it’s okay.”

You lean in for an impossibly needy kiss, only breaking away when you physically can’t breathe anymore. Vernon’s eyes flutter open at the same time as yours do and as you reach behind yourself with one hand to unclasp your bra, he looks at you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.  

(He tells you that you are no fewer than three times before you fall asleep a few hours later.)

thank u so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! as always, likes, reblogs, comments & feedback are so so appreciated. there's approx a scene and a half left for part 3 and then we're all done with this baby! stay tuned for that, coming soon.<3 p.s. no i will not apologise to jaehyun, this is what he gets for making me feel insane. thanks !

[straylightdream]

liquid courage

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: han jisung x f.reader

↳ a late drunken night with friends leads to drunken confessions.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: drinking, drunken kisses and confessions, friends to lovers. Smut warning below the cut.

𝐚𝐧: part of my skz series of unconnected stories that all take place “in the middle of the night”. Thank you @therhythmafterthesummer for helping pick a title for this story.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: drunken sex (both parties are consenting), unprotected intercourse, creampie

It’s late night well past midnight and your apartment you share with Minho is filled with your friends. Leaning against your kitchen counter you watch as an excited Jisung is telling Changbin a story and waving his arms around enthusiastically. You can’t help but shake your head as he almost knocks himself over twice. Reaching out you grab the beer the Jisung is holding. You know he’s going to spill his drink if he starts laughing, and you don’t want to be in charge of cleaning up the mess. Changbin finds it hilarious that you took his friend's beer.

“Hey,” Jisung pouts.

“You can have it back when you finish your story,” you shake your head.

He cocks his head to the side and goes back to telling his story. It’s not long before Changbin leaves you alone with your best friend. Stepping towards you he pulls you into his chest out of nowhere. You giggle as he holds you tight and sways side to side. He’s normal, quite touchy feely with you, but when he gets alcohol in him he can’t seem to keep his hands off you.

“Sungie what are you doing,” you can’t stop drunkenly giggling. The alcohol running through your system has you feeling warm and fuzzy.

“I’m dancing with you,” he pulls back and looks at you grinning. Reaching up pinch his soft cheek earning a smile from him.

“You can’t keep your hands off me can you?” He loves teasing you.

“Oh course I can’t keep my hands off you.”

“Hey love birds, drink some water,” Minho says walking into the kitchen. That isn’t the first time your friends have made a comment about you and Jisung and it probably wouldn’t be the last time either.

“Minho, are you jealous,” Jisung says with a laugh.

An unamused look plays across Minho's face as he knits his eyebrows together, “no because I would have had sex with her already and made my move by now.”

Minho’s comment leaves you shocked, you aren’t exactly sure what he means by that. It might have something to do with the fact you’ve probably drank too much. Or maybe because you and Jisung are always together. He walks out of the room without saying another word and leaves you standing there staring at your best friend. You know this is going to a make or break moment. You decide you’re going to be brave and lean forward crashing your lips into his. This kiss starts out timid for a short moment. It takes a moment before he’s kisses you right back, and reaches up tangling his fingers in your hair. Your first kiss is a sloppy one fueled by alcohol and building sexual tension. Your tongues slide against his as you fight for dominance. His fingers are still tangled in your hair. Your hands grip his shirt holding him close to you.

Pulling away you take a deep breath needing a moment to breathe. He’s looking at you a way you’ve never seen him look at you before. His eyes are hazy and filled with lust.

“Let’s go to my room,” you say, barely loud enough for him to hear.

Grabbing your hand he quickly leads you off to your room. He shuts the door locking it, you’re both aware that if you don’t lock it one of the boys will walk in.

Standing at the foot of the bed you stare at him, undressing him with your eyes. You’ve seen him shirtless before but you’re dying to know how he looks naked.

“You want this to happen?” he asked, finally speaking.

Silently you nod your head.

He pulls his shirt off and takes his sneakers and socks off. He’s left standing in front of you in only his jeans. The sight of his toned stomach and small waist is mouth watering to you. It’s taking everything in your not to walk over and lick his ab.

Following his lead you take off your shoes and remove your dress. You’re left standing in front of him in nothing but your bra and underwear. He takes a large step forward connecting his lips to yours for another heated kiss. Your lips move together and his strong hands run up and down your back. His hand stops at the clasp of your bra. He unhooks and pushes the straps down your arms. He pulls his lips away from yours and steps back taking in the sight of your body.

“You’re beautiful.”

It’s not long before he has you fully naked, and worked on removing his own clothes. He’s hovering over you kissing his way away across your chest. His hips rolled into yours and wrapped your legs around him. His thrust are quick and sloppy, but he’s hitting all the right places. It’s clear that you’re both very intoxicated as your noses bump together as he tries to kiss you. You can’t help but giggle.

“This is fun,” you say, causing him to smile.

“I hope it feels good too,” he says, thrusting into you over and over again. Even though you’ve drunk quite a bit you have wanted Jisung for so long and you’re so happy you can finally be with him.

“It feels amazing,” you moan, rubbing your fingers across his tone back.

He drops down to his elbows so he’s basically laying on top of you as his hips roll into yours. His lips on your neck leaving a trail of wet kisses. The room is soon filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing as you both come close to finding your release.

He pushes you over the edge first leaving you a moaning mess. He follows right after you, he lays on top of you for a long moment coming down from his high. He only rolls off you after realizing he’s squishing you. He lays next to you staring at you smiling. You know you should probably talk about things but neither of you are in any state of mind to talk.

“What time is it?” You ask curling up next to him.

He glances over the alarm clock on the nightstand. “It’s three in the morning.”

“Oh god it’s so late I can already feel the hangover coming.” Jisung has a huge smile on his face and pulls your body as close as possible to him.

“Can I stay here tonight?” He asked.

“Oh course.”

It’s not long before you’re both sound asleep curled up close to each other.

-

Bright lights shining through your curtains woke you up too early. The pounding in your head was also a sign that you drank too much the night before. The feeling of the bed dipping behind you reminded you that you weren't alone.

Rolling over you find a very naked Jisung lying down next to you. He looks as if he’s in the process of waking up. His big eyes are opened slightly, as he pushes his fluffy hair out of his eyes.

“Morning,” his voice is raspy as he finally speaks.

“Morning.”

Staring at him your eyes flash back to all the steamy moments you had shared together the night before.

Slowly he reaches out pushing a piece of hair behind your ear. A soft smile plays across his face. His fingers linger against your skin for a long moment.

Not even twenty-four hours ago you assumed that nothing would ever happen between you and your best friend. You’ve had a crush on him for as long as you could remember but you never thought that he would return your feelings. Last night was a drunken mess but you could still remember the fine details of your night with Jisung. He was just as drunk as you, but he was fully in control as he took you away from the party.

“How are you feeling?” he asks with his voice raspy from just waking up.

“Hungover,” you sigh.

He stares at you pausing for a long moment before asking, “do you remember last night?”

Slowly you nod your head, “I remember every moment that happened in this room.”

“So…” he says. Things between you suddenly feel awkward.

“Do you regret it?” you asked suddenly, feeling worried that he regretted everything that happened.

He sits up with his back resting against the headboard. He shakes his head quickly and says, “no I never would regret anything with you.”

You sit up so you’re sitting next to him with your back against the headboard. You pull your blanket up to cover your body so you’re not sitting there fully exposed.

“Okay that’s good because I’m glad something happened between us.”

A smile stretches across his face. He leans over and presses his lips to yours for a soft kiss. For being hungover you sure feel happy.

Regarding taglist:

If you aren’t interacting with my writing outside of liking the new post I’m gonna have to remove your name from the taglist. You will also be removed if I try to tag you and your blog is listed as "invisible". If you've changed your URL and didn't let me know I will also be removing your name. I’m sorry for the inconvenience but my interactions outside or likes feels like it’s nonexistent right now. All of my taglist are still open though. If you request to be added to one via this form, I kindly ask for interactions in the form and feedback and reblogs. To be quite honest, those really encourage my writing.

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Ghost with a Snake Parent S/O

Requested: No

Warnings: Ghost’s trauma, angst

Oh dear.

If you know anything about Ghost’s past with snakes then you know that this is going to be…..tricky. To say the least. It’s definitely a huge hurdle between you two, maybe even with the possibility of having to break it off when things get really bad. Because your snakes are your babies and Ghost can’t even stand to step foot into your home for fear of seeing anything related to them. You can’t even talk about them to him because he just sort of….shuts down.

That being said, Simon is pushing himself. He loves you, and he wants to continue being with you. And he never wants you to feel like you have to choose between him and something precious to you, because you don’t deserve that. So he wants to make it work.

But wanting to do something doesn’t make it any easier for him. And everytime he so much as looks at a picture of one of your snakes, he can feel his anxiety spiking, his adrenaline kicking him and telling him to go go GO.

So it’ll have to be a slow introduction. Hearing you talk about them, then maybe showing some photos, then videos. And it’ll be….a while before Simon is ever brave enough to even look at a snake in person. Probably best to try that in a pet store instead of at home, that way he has more sounds to ground him, like the chirping of the birds in the next aisle, the various people talking around him, water splashing in the fish tank.

Then there’s the final hurdle. Actually touching one. A good starter for this would probably be a garden snake. Something small, so that he almost feels like he’s touching a large worm over a small snake. He’ll start by touching with one finger, oh so gentle as he rubs the snake’s head. That might be all you can get him to do the first day, or even the first few days. Over a certain span of time he’ll gradually start petting with more fingers til he can actually just pet the thing with his full hand.

Getting Simon to actually hold the snake might be an impossibility but that’s okay for him and hopefully okay for you. It’s not like he’s going to be doing any actual care for them, he just needs to be able to be in the same room without freaking out.

Overall, it’s a long and arduous journey but he will eventually be able to be relatively calm around seeing your snakes every once and a while. Maybe not able to actually touch them if they’re anywhere near as big as the snake his father made him kiss when he was younger. But he’s proud of himself for actually being able to get this far, and he’s hopeful that maybe someday he can fully conquer his fear and trauma.

[hedgehog-moss]

Rooster update: he is a gentleman so far. He follows my hen everywhere at a polite and respectful distance, scanning the area for enemies. I’ve not seen him make any advances whatsoever, he doesn’t seem interested in becoming a father; either he’s too young, or still a bit stressed and disconcerted by his change of environment, or he doesn’t like Dru this way, who knows. Pourvu que ça dure...!

Maybe Dru attacked him the first time he tried something—he doesn’t seem afraid of her any more, but the first morning after he arrived, he barrelled past Dru when I opened the coop and ran away flailing his wings, with high-pitched incoherent clucking, as if he were being chased by a pack of wild dogs. Pandolf, my hen and I stood there perplexed and watched him disappear into the forest. Part of me wanted to yell “I didn’t even want you!! you’re free to go!” and go home to have breakfast, but I couldn’t let him commit suicide by fox on his first day, so I took Pan home (thinking maybe the rooster had been scared of him), took my hen under my arm and spent half an hour on a rooster hunt in the woods. Dru clucks in annoyance if you touch her comb, so I would occasionally tickle it and she’d kÔtkÔtkwÊk and sometimes we’d hear a timid kwêk? in response which helped me narrow down the rooster’s position.

We ended up finding him perched on a branch, quite high up. I poked him with a long stick and he grudgingly moved back inch by inch until he was low enough for me to go up on tiptoes and pluck him like a large fruit. Then I carried him home singing the ballad of Sir Robin. When danger reared its ugly head / he bravely turned his tail and fled—Dru actually seems glad for his company, but she doesn’t know that this anxious bird is supposed to guard her from predators.

Here’s our boldly brave sir Robin strutting gallantly (photo taken with zoom because if I come any closer he flees)

Well, Dru’s new coopmate is very good at being a rooster in one capacity and that is crowing. He starts bright and early and continues throughout the day at random times, a beautifully-enunciated cocorico (he’s french)—I quite like it! The walls of my house are thick enough that it doesn’t wake me up in the morning, and during the day it’s a pleasant addition to the soundscape.

I had lunch with the librarian today and told her all about the rooster, and how I probably won’t be able to keep him since I’ll never meet the recommended minimum amount of hens per rooster. With 2 hens I already have a dozen eggs a week and that’s more than enough for me (+ cats and dog who also enjoy eggs.) The librarian was Team Rooster and said I should get more hens and bring her the eggs. “I’ll find clients.” She was already picturing herself as the nexus of a flourishing library-based egg trade, but most people around here keep chickens so I don’t think the demand will be there.

I showed someone else a picture of my rooster at the grocery shop and she exclaimed “He’s very decorative!” which I think would have made my rooster fluff up with pride. It’s the most validating thing you can say to a male bird. After I summarised the situation, my interlocutor came to the conclusion that I should give him to the librarian so he can become the new library pet. I said “He’ll make a mess” and she said “We can put sawdust on the ground like in old-school cafés...” But then she added that her grandchildren are a bit scared of roosters since they know they can be mean, and they might become afraid of going to the library. We agreed that my rooster shouldn’t be an obstacle to childhood literacy.

[cursedvida]

During my first watch with my mom. She pointed this out to me that made so much sense. When Noa and Mae were both climbing the cliff to get inside the vault, she told me “Oh thats why Mae followed him- bec his clan are climbers. She needed help to get up at that Vault and thats why she chose Noa.”

My mom speculates that Mae(while in hiding) mustve seen Noa and his gang climb up the nest during the first minutes of the movie and saw Noa get to the very top bravely. That made her interested. She follows Noa knowing his clan must be good climbers cause their entire culture has a ritual that revolves around getting eggs on top of birds nests (and also why they survived the vault flooding - “EAGLE CLAN CLIMB”)

Kudos to my mom for noticing. I never thought of that while watching! I just thought that they crossed paths randomly and after what happened to his clan they needed each other’s help. It could be a mix of both.

I want to know if others also thought of it too. What other interpretations for the scenes. Whats your take on why Mae followed Noa?

I hadn't thought of that! The truth is, my idea was that Mae followed him because he was heading toward the place where Proximus was located (they had a common goal) and at the same time he was a walking supply of food and resources, something she probably needed a lot since she was alone. But now that you mention it, it makes a lot of sense that, seeing him climb, she would think that in addition to being useful for getting food or having a common enemy, he could also be an essential element for her to access the vault. Your mom has a keen eye for these things, honestly, a huge round of applause because that detail makes it even more coherent that Mae would follow him and consider him a valuable asset for her.

In fact, I think I remember that when Noa decides to leave and leave her with the rest of the humans while Raka looks at him disapprovingly, she seems quite annoyed, which fits very well with the idea that she had in mind to use him to climb and access the vault and feels quite frustrated when she sees she's losing her golden opportunity.

[blu3-j]

How about everyone from Welcome Home has a sleepover with the human Reader who just arrived in the neighborhood! What would happen if, while the reader is sleeping, he starts crying or says something like this in his sleep: "Please stop this hurting me" (poor reader is having a nightmare). Of course, his puppet friends are going to wake the reader up, but when the reader wakes up he says "no, look over there in the corner there's a monster and he's going to devour me" and after that the reader faints and goes back to sleep..

How would the puppets react? What would happen?

(( Sorry if it's confusing, it's just that I have Sleep Paralysis sometimes when I'm woken up by having a nightmare I see this scary entity that terrified me in my sleep next to me in bed, it's so scary because it seems so real, sometimes I I simply go back to sleep as if nothing happened and I don't remember that accident. ))

Night Horrors

Reader with Sleep Paralysis x Welcome Home Crew

(Headcannon List!)

Oh, goodness! I’m so sorry to hear that, fellow stranger! Well, know that all of the Welcome Home crew would be deeply concerned for you and check up on you the next morning! They care for you so so much! Know that I care for you so much, too! We may be strangers, but I still care! It must be so scary.

Wally:

This dude would just look in the corner you made comment to and investigate

No fear, whatsoever

I can imagine him laughing when seeing nothing and saying aloud to anyone listening “Silly, silly! There’s nothing here.” And just go back to whatever he was doing before he went to check up on you.

Has had experience investigating scary things in the dark to comfort Barnaby

Barnaby:

His eyes would go wide and he’d freeze instantly.

This guy may be a jokester, but he’s not much of a fan of horror

Watching him would be like watching those online gamers play horror games, honestly

He’d slowly turn around and either jump anyway, or he’d walk the other direction repeatedly saying “nope nope nope nope” the entire time

Wally would have to comfort the poor doggo

Sally:

She’d freeze up for a moment and just stare at you as you fell back asleep

The entire time she would just heavily debate on whether or not to look

“D-don’t worry, Y/N, I’ll be your knight in shining armor!”

She’d attempt to go into an acting bit to convince herself to be brave for you

You could hear her sigh of relief outside of the building when she didn’t see anything

Would no doubt refuse to sleep without you or anyone else in the room, though

Julie:

Girly would go wide-eyed and dart around to look, ready to beat the shit out of whatever you saw

Don’t underestimate her, because of her games with random and possibly made up on the spot rules, she’s a lot stronger than she looks and she knows it

She’s more of a fight person than flight, fawn, or freeze

Upon seeing nothing there, she would turn back around and pat you on the head with a smile on her face

“Oh, Y/N, you silly billy! Your eyes must have been playing tricks on you.”

Once she was sure you weren’t having anymore nightmares, she’d skip off to do what she was doing before

Poppy:

Instant panic

This bird is a scaredy bird

She would instantly curl up under the blanket with you and do her best not to look in the corner

She’s shaking so hard, it’s a wonder you didn’t wake up

If she got brave enough, she would rush over to the phone and call somebody over (most likely Howdy) to check the corner for her

Howdy:

No fear

He wouldn’t walk over, but he would definitely look in the corner to make sure there’s nothing there

He’d chuckle when there really wasn’t anything there and then tuck you back in

Like Wally, he’s had experience checking for scary monsters in the house for Poppy and Sally (Sally rarely ever called him to check on something, but he’s had to in the past)

Additionally, he runs a bodega store. There must of been times that were scary as shit

I mean, think about it! He’s most probably heard some things outside or seen things in his store while closing up or during the night when he’s supposed to be sleeping plenty of times!

He’s got to be brave, at least for investigating

Maybe not as much for confrontation, but I can imagine he may know how to stand his ground (albeit a bit shakily)

Frank:

Like most of the others, he would freeze up a bit

Only for a single moment, though

Then he would turn around

When he saw nothing, he breathed a sigh of relief

Depending on how close the two of you are, he’d either lightly glare at you (I doubt it from thinking he’s a huge softy, just a bit grumpy and intellectual), or “smile” at you

“Smile” as in his eyes would scrunch up the tiniest bit in that special way a person smiles at another and raise his eyebrows a bit

Due to his permanent frown, he can’t really smile at you, but he tries on occasion!

For the rest of the night, though, he’d be a small bit on edge

Eddie:

Poor guy would instantly run and call for Frank

If Frank can’t come, he’d attempt to wake you either to assure him there’s nothing there or to run to another room to sleep for the rest of the night

He’s definitely a flight guy, but that doesn’t mean he won’t still try to protect others!

He’d do anything to keep his friends/significant others safe!

Even if it means facing his worst, scariest fears!

Home:

Yes, I’m putting Home in here since they technically count as a character of Welcome Home

That, and Home needs some love, too!

Home would instantly be able to know there’s nothing there

But don’t be fooled! If they were able to breathe like a human, their breathing would have stopped for a moment

Home would tuck you back in with something they can control

If they can’t tuck you back in, they’d squeak out a loving “goodnight.”

[demento-mori]

Isat ask game!!! 6, 11, 25!

6. You accidentally make loop’s wish! What do you tell to your doppelgänger?

Hmm, i think at first i wouldnt reveal my true identity, if only because "hey, im you from a previous timeline where you fucked up so bad you got stuck in this timeloop for years and years and things got so bad that you essentially gave up on life" might just send them into a panic attack and then where would we be. I can't imagine I'd be able to keep up the facade for long though, so I'd try and gently let them know maybe once theyre more settled in to the time loop grind and have made some decent progress? yknow so things dont seem quite so hopeless for them

Other than that, I'd try and tell them exactly what they need to do to progress through the house so they can get through it more quickly and efficiently than I did and without succumbing to time loop despair. Once theyd reached the point I had reached in my original timeline, we would be able to start brainstorming new ideas on how to progress from here and potentially break the loop. The logic is that they would be in a better place than I was mentally and would therefore (hopefully) be able to find something i missed.

.....i would also make them to do a bunch of dumb shit. like trying out different haircuts ive never tried on myself or just doing normal stuff like laughing or eating so i can see how I look to other people. Among............. other stuff..... gotta take advantage of the clone scenario.

11. Would you eat that star from the prologue? (nothing happens except you eat it)

I imagine eating a star would hurt a lot. It would probably be scorching hot, and given that stars are made mostly of hydrogen it probably wouldn't taste very good either.

With all that aside............. yes, absolutely I would.

25. Which bird in Dormont is your favorite?

The first bird you see when you leave the meadow. Hes always there for me, always piou piou-ing. My rock in times of crisis <3

Of course I also have to mention Soupe, the singular, non-french bird. A brave soul, going against the grain.

[reborrowing]

Lost Fledgling

Sequel thing to Open House, Empty Nest

cw: angst, ambiguous ending, no happy ending, broken families, identity issues

He wanted to go home. He wanted his mama. From that first week, as soon as he was brave enough to follow his sister and step out of hiding, he would go to the window and try to imagine his way home. There should be some magic, shouldn’t there, something calling him back no matter how far he was? Yet nothing spoke to him as he looked out at alien trees that grew more familiar by the day. No answers filled that yearning, gnawing emptiness in his chest.

He don’t know his address, didn’t even know what an address was until his new guardians had asked about it. Sister didn’t know it either. What use was an address to a borrower? They’d hardly be able to travel the distance between blocks, never mind neighborhoods.

The years fell by and the homesickness lingered and turned more abstract. He missed the idea of the house he’d been born in, missed the security of tight and hidden spaces, missed what it felt like to climb out from the floor’s shadows into a haze of warm sunlight. He missed cricket stew and goodnight kisses. He missed a voice he couldn’t quite remember right.

He missed his mama.

He knew he ought to be grateful that the human that had found them had taken on the role of parent rather than jailer. It was probably the best he could hope for. His new guardian loved him and he loved them, but they would never be mama.

How long had she looked for them? How close had she come? Why hadn’t she kept them at home if there were going to be people in the house above? He missed his mama, he loved her, but he blamed her too. Where had she been? Didn’t she care that he was gone?

He and Sister were taught things most borrowers didn’t, things most borrowers would never think to care about and went without the teachings and basic skills most borrowers would consider common knowledge. Sister did what she could, but she hardly knew any more than he did. They were lost.

He didn’t know who he was or what to call himself. He didn’t borrow, so he could hardly say he was a borrower. And he wasn’t human, either. He couldn’t join his parents’ society any more than he could become a bird and fly. His guardian told him otherwise, that he could do anything he put his mind to, but that was only true so long as no one thought to stop him and everyone was careful to watch their step. He hadn’t gone to school, wouldn’t go to college, wouldn’t ever have a career…what was he?

His guardian couldn’t give him any answers that satisfied the aching in his chest.

He decided to search for them on his own. Even if he never found his way back home, even if his memories of his old life were fuzzy, he knew there were other borrowers out there. and there had been traders that sometimes camped under the porch. Even his father had been a nomad of some sort. It would be hard, what with the way his kind hid, but he was sure he would find someone. Something better than this world that was wholly too big for him.

And so one night he set out, leaving another parent behind to grieve his disappearance.

-

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