#it just occurred to me as i finished typing it all up that might not have been what anon was asking me...

[dceased-dynamic-duo-4ever]

There are character rights and character wrongs.

Many people support the best things about a character and completely either bury or hide away the flaws of their favorite characters.

Now I must ask you….

What’s your favorite character wrongs of your favorite DC character?

Well, first, I would like to point out that a character without flaws is a boring character, and there’s nothing more fun than making fun of a character’s flaws. Oops, went off on a tangent there, sorry. Back to the actual question, though:

The character that immediately comes to mind for me is Tim Hunter (technically he's a Vertigo character, but Vertigo was an imprint of DC). Ok, where do I even start when it comes to his flaws… he’s basically entirely made of flaws—not entirely a joke; Peter Gross’ entire run on The Books of Magic was about how no matter what Tim does he’ll always end up becoming “Mr. Wrong” (basically the title they use to refer to the future version of Tim who made a deal with Barbatos and became evil, and later more and more pathetic). All that to say that with characters like Tim Hunter, if you take away all of their flaws then you're not really going to have anything left of the character.

[luvfy0dor]

“I Like Shiny Things, But I'd Marry You With Paper Rings ♡⁠˖” BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Chuuya Nakahara

Warnings; None! ♡⁠˖

Description; Drabbles about BSD men proposing

A/n; Any commentary on the pink theme? I like it, as of right now it's only gonna stay until Valentine's day. This is my in-between requests post, another request will be posted soon! ♡⁠˖

⑅ Dazai Osamu ⑅

♡ Dazai is the type of guy to keep the ring on him at all times. He proposes when he thinks the moment is right, there's no set date for when he's going to do it. He has times when he'd like to do it, but he doesn't force himself too if it doesn't feel like the best possible moment. Or he might just do it impulsively, who knows?x

ೃ⁀➷

You sat bored in the living room, folding a small square of paper into as many little origami shapes as you could. You made small hearts, cranes, and paper rings. You slid one of the recently-made rings onto your finger and smiled, deciding to make a matching one for your boyfriend, who had yet to come back from the grocery quest you sent him on. As you made the first few folds, you heard some banging on the door. It startled you a little, your breath hitching. The voice that followed calmed your nerves, though.

"Babe, can you let me in? Please?" He had a small impediment in his speech when he spoke. You sighed with a smile and got up, unlocking and opening the door to see Dazai with grocery bags hung up both of his arms and one hanging out of his mouth. Your eyebrows furrowed a little and you took roughly half of them into your own hole. "I sent you for a couple things, what's all this?" You ask. He just shrugs and kicks off his shoes, still standing with you at the doorway. "Just some stuff I figured we needed. Trust me, you'll thank me later." He tells. He heads to the kitchen and starts putting things away with your help. He shares tales of his journey to the grocery store and back, making sure you know every detail of the trip. He seemed to be particularly enthused about some coupons he found in the cart he grabbed, which explained all the extra groceries. After putting them all away, he joined you back one the couch and examined your origami art.

"Wow, you're quite crafty." He says, picking up the paper crane and bending it's neck back and forth. "Yeah, I got birds, hearts, and rings. I was about to make a matching ring for you, but then you bashed your head against the door instead of setting stuff down to get out your key." You playfully jabbed. He scoffed. "Like you wouldn't do the same thing." You shake your head, your tongue sticking out of your mouth while you focus on perfectly bending the paper to form the shape of a heart-ring. It became increasingly difficult when Dazai grabbed one of your hands oh-so gently and observed the ring made from a yellow sticky note. He thought about how much better a legitimate wedding ring/band would look on your finger, an idea suddenly occuring to him. "We should exchange rings once you're don't with mine." He pitches the idea to you with a grin.

You hum in approval. "Alright, I'm almost done, it'll only take another minute." He nodded, taking the ring off of your finger and setting it on the table. "Okay, I'll be right back." He says, rising from the couch and going to your shared bedroom, digging through the various items in the nightstand drawer to find the small, black box. He slipped it into his pocket and returned to your side, placing a hand on his back and kissing the side of your head and eventually leaning into your warmth. You held up your paper ring proudly when you finished. "Alright, are we exchanging them now?" He nods, his hand fidgeting with the ring box in his pocket, opening it and extracting the ring into his balled fist. He grabs the paper ring from the table and holds out his other hand for you.

"Here you go, my beloved husband." You tease, a smile on your face as you sit unaware of what's about to come. "Thanks, babe. Here's yours." You smiled as you watched him push the actual engagement ring onto your finger before it fully processed in your mind and your jaw dropped. "This felt like the perfect moment to ask...will you marry me?" Your heart flutters in your chest and you choke up a little, nodding and hugging him tightly. "Yes, yes! Oh my gosh, it's so pretty, Osamu!" Your heart felt like it was lodged in your throat with excitement as your boyfriend chuckles at the sight of you intensely observing the ring. "I'm so glad you said yes." He says through his smile, hugging you and running his hand up and down your back. "Why wouldn't I?" You said, brushing your hands through your new fiances hair with euphoria. "I know I'm pretty irresistible, so I didn't expect you to say 'no', you just make me nervous. In a good way, ofcourse." He pridefully says. You chuckled and kissed him sweetly. "You're such a dork, but I don't mind." You said. You both filled the rest of the evening with laughter and excited discussion of possibilities for the wedding itself. You couldn't help it, you just loved being immersed in conversation with your fiance more than anything.

⑅ Chuuya Nakahara ⑅

♡ Chuuya plans the proposal out. He'd really like to propose on a beach at sunset, something cliche like that. Some people might think it's corny, but he thinks it's romantic. He's got rose pedals, candles, you name it.

ೃ⁀➷

Chuuya scattered the rose pedals on the sand in the shape of a large heart, having picked the least windy day of the week to avoid the flowers blowing every which way. The heart shape was illuminated by pretty faux candles, their fake fire flickering on the darkening beach. The sunset painted the sky a beautiful pink, just like the rosy pink you made his face anytime you complimented him, even years into the relationship. The butterflies in his stomach were very much alive and well, even if he played them off with false annoyance. They were there now as he scattered the final petals, waiting for you to text him that you were pulling up to the beach to start walking to the close parking lot. His hands reached down into his pocket to grab his phone with one hand and fiddle with the ring in his other. As he was about to press the power button, his lock screen lit up with your notification.

He felt his heart in his throat as he started walking up, having to steady his breathing once or twice. You saw him first, calling out his name and waving. "Chuuya!" You picked up your pace, shoving your phone onto the back pocket of your shorts. He smiled, his teeth showing through his parted lips. He immediately embraced you, his arms falling loosely around your waist, pulling you into a kiss. It was just a peck, but it spread a more-than-welcome warmth throughout your chest. The smile didn't leave your face while he walked back with you slowly to the beach. "Have a good day, doll?" He asks, grabbing your hand and giving it a small squeeze. Your eyebrows furrow and your nose scrunches. "Yeah, I guess. It was really boring, but not bad." He hums in understanding, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles. "But you got through the day." You nod with a grin that mirrored his on your face.

"So, uh, I have something I wanna ask you about." He said, avoiding eye contact and instead looking at his feet. You raised an eyebrow, tilting forward to look at his face. "Hm?" Your head fell to rest against his as you started to walk through the sand. The large, candle-lit heart caught your eye and you couldn't help but swoon. He was blushing and drew his hand up to his face to cover it, but he guided you to the center of the heart, his free hand holding yours. "Chuu, this is gorgeous." You murmur, taken back by how pretty everything looked. Ocean waves rolled against the shore quietly, setting the mood. Onlookers stared, but Chuuya only looked at you. "A gorgeous scene for a gorgeous person." He whispered. He took both hands and squeezed them tightly, swallowing the reoccurring lump in his throat. "Y/n, you know how much I love you and how long I've loved you- it feels like it's been forever in the best way possible. I never want it to stop, so.." he takes a deep breath and fishes the ring box out of his pocket and kneels down.

You could almost feel the world stop spinning and your heartbeat in your ears. Your tongue pressed against the roof of your mouth as you waited to hear the words you had wanted to for a while now. Chuuya brought your knuckles to his lips before asking. "Will you continue to make me the happiest man ever and marry me, Y/n?" You could barely squeeze a 'yes' out of your throat and nodded vigorously. He smiled from ear to ear and took the ring/band out of the box, sliding it onto your ring finger. You immediately throw yourself onto your new fiance, tackling him into the sand and hugging him tightly. "Chuuya, this was the cutest thing ever, thank you so much." You pressed a soft kiss to his exposed collarbone and ran a hand through his hair. "Anythin' for you, sweetheart." He says, still on a high from your response. He pressed a kiss to your head and the two of you just played together for a while, basking in each other's presence, the ocean and sunset wonderfully adding to the atmosphere.

⑅ Fyodor Dostoevsky ⑅

♡ Fyodor, like Chuuya, plans it out. He much prefers a restaurant setting to a beach, though. Candle lit dinners ended with applause from onlookers and a smile on your face is a more than satisfactory way to propose.

ೃ⁀➷

Fyodor had been mentioning bringing you out for a nice, candle-lit dinner recently, and he finally got to take you out on a saturday evening. His hand rested on your thigh while he drove, which didn't usually happen, but it wasn't an unwelcomed occurrence. Your hand was on top of his while you told him about a book you had read, excitedly filling him all the details about the characters and their romantic sparks. He followed along with that beautiful soft smile on his face, nodding and 'oh'ing, but it wasn't a dismissive 'oh', it was an intrigued one. He related the book you were talking about to one he had read in the past, and you listened just as he did. He loved that about you, your interest in whatever conversation he had to offer. His hand lifted from your thigh as he pulled into the parking lot, finding the closest spot to the entrance. He looked kinda sexy when he drove, the way his thin and nimble fingers loosely held the wheel made your cheeks heat up. You let out a giddy breath when he opened his door and made his way around the car to open yours for you. And they say romance is dead.

You smiled and took his hand when getting out, keeping it in your hold while your you walked in and he told the hostess about your reservation. She led the both of you to a table and gave you menus, leaving to give you some alone time with your boyfriend. His hair was pushed back behind one of his ears and his eyes scanned over the drinks printed om the laminated paper. "What are you going to order, Moya Lyubov?" He asks, looking up at you from across the table, his foot brushing against yours underneath the surface. "Maybe a margarita." You say pensively, putting thorough thought into your decision. After deciding that nothing on the menu sounded better in the moment, you settled. "Yeah, a margarita for sure." You sat the menu down on the table and crossed your arms. "Mm, that's a good choice." He says. "I think I just want water."

The waitress soon arrives at your table to take your orders for drinks, and it doesn't take long for her to return. She sets them on the table and you both murmur appreciative 'thank you's and take a sip. She offered to take your order for a main course or appetizers, but you requested more time to look over the menu. Fyodor reached over and gently pried one of your hands from the side of the gatefold booklet, holding it. "Your hands are so warm, my dear." He says, eyes soft and loving. "I love you, so, so much, and I plan to show you just how much that is tonight." He says, kissing your knuckles. Your face immediately warmed and you laughed softly. The restaurant had soft classical music playing in the background, which paired nicely with the soft chatter of the people. "Yeah? Well, I'm not sure I'd need you to prove how much you love me, but I'm not opposed to it if you want to." You says, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

Fyodor nodded and his mind drifted down to the ring box that patiently sat in his front pocket, waiting to be gifted to you. "I always want to display my love for you." He confesses. After a moment, you both pick a main course for yourselves and the waitress takes the order. Fyodor wanted to wait until you were ready to leave to get down on one knee so it would be less expected than him standing up in the middle of dinner, and that he did. He watched your every reaction to his words throughout the meal when it was delivered to you. He subtly dropped some hints, although you didn't seem to be picking them up. He didn't mind, it just added to the element of surprise when he did finally pop the question.

The conversation flowed smoothly as it always did, his hand almost always holding onto yours across the table. His laugh was so charming, as was his smile. Everything about him seemed so soft, like the warm toned light on his skin and the way his hair fell just above his shoulders. You are your food happily, paid the bill, and gathered your stuff. He assisted you in putting your coat, turning you around and pressing a kiss to your lips while holding your hands. "Mmn, myshka..." He slides his hand into his pocket and withdrawals it, holding it out and getting down on one knee. Your eyes widened and you sucked in a breath, your posture suddenly straightening. Peoples heads all over the restaurant turned towards you and your soon-to-be-fiance.

"Y/n, do you remember our first date being here?" He says, opening the ring box to show you the beautiful jewelry piece. "I believe things come full circle. We've had one new begining here, and I thought I should start a new chapter in the story of us here, as well." He said, never breaking eye contact until you looked down, giddy with excitement. "So, will you marry me, Y/n?" He asked. He was confident you'd say yes, but he still held his breath. People around were watching with intrigue and excitement.

"Oh my god, yes." You said, the dorkiest grin on your face as you hugged him. The people around clapped and let out small aw's as you and Fyodor exchanged a sweet kiss. His hand was placed on the back of your head, his lips pulled upward in a grin similar to your own. "Ah, I love you, Myshka." He pulled away and slid the ring onto your finger while his other hand slid down to the small of your back. You admired the jewels embedded in the metal and kissed his cheek one more time. "Ready to leave, my dear?" You nod, kissing his knuckles. "Yeah, thank you so much for tonight and just...everything." You appreciatively thank him with your head on his shoulder. You couldn't be more ecstatic about the proposal, and you knew your lover was feeling the same way.

A/n; THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT IM DHAJEKWKS I CANT WAIT IM PROLLY GONNA MAKE A SEPARATE POST ABOUT IT BUT I JUSR DJSJJKSJD I'm a little sad I didn't get one of the deluxe CDs, but it's whatever I guess. I should really focus on getting debut, rep, and fearless TV, those r the only ones I don't have rn 😭

[wordsinhaled]

have some dreamling fluff, inspired by this fanart by @dingusdemeanour ! <3

-

"Oh,” Hob says, as he unlocks his flat and steps aside to let Dream in. Inside, it still smells faintly of Hob’s morning coffee despite the hours that have passed. Hob’s living room glows with mid-afternoon sunlight. "I almost forgot! I got you something."

There was no need for that, Dream almost says, but he casts a sideways glance at Hob, and Hob seems so plainly excited that he does not have the heart to dash his dream. For he knows, after all, that the act of gifting is a type of dreaming, of imagining another's future happiness.

Instead Dream says, simply, "Thank you, Hob."

"Don’t thank me yet. What if you hate it?" Hob says, though his eyes crinkle at the corners the way they do when Dream has pleased him. He is easy to please, Dream finds. Easy to talk to, as well, and easy to bring to mirth. Easy to— "Hang this up for me, love?"

Dream takes the messenger bag Hob proffers him. He holds it to his chest for a moment, rubs his fingertips over the leather strap where it is still body-warm from having been slung over Hob shoulder.

Love.

Hob is easy to love. Dream finishes the thought as he ponders how he became privy to the many tiny, quotidian secrets of Hob’s long life. When had he first learned that the nearest hook to the door is for Hob’s house keys, and the second is for his work bag? Dream deposits it there in its customary place gingerly, thinking, This knowledge, too, is its own gift.

“So,” Hob says, “don’t laugh, yeah? Or—laugh if you like, I suppose. I saw them and thought of you.” And he thrusts a small bundle into Dream’s hands.

Dream raises an eyebrow. “Socks?” It has never occurred to him that Hob might associate him with such a thing.

“Fuzzy socks,” Hob says helpfully.

The socks are, indeed, fuzzy. They are also embroidered all over with many tiny faces of cats, and made of a terribly soft material that Dream has the sudden, inexplicable urge to press to his cheek—so he does, though he is almost never a being of impulses. He can sense the dream Hob had formed in his mind when he purchased the socks, can see what Hob had pictured: how the socks would keep Dream not just warm, but cozy; how the bit of pink peeking over the tops of Dream’s boots would be a tiny reminder that Dream is—

That Dream is loved.

“I shall wear them, when I come to visit you in the waking world,” Dream says, and Hob’s answering grin is positively blinding.

[farfaras]

Steddie week. Day 7: Free space. 2.1k words. Ao3 link.

@steddie-week

I’m late but I really wanted to finish the week. So here it is! The last one!

~

“What’s Eddie short for?” Steve asked Robin. They were on their break, now working at a record store after they got fired from Family Video for missing work too much.

“Why are you asking me?” She shot back. Steve simply shrugged. It honestly just occurred to him that he didn’t actually know if that was Eddie’s name or if it was a nickname.

“I was just thinking about it. You don’t know?”

“I have absolutely no idea.” That was disappointing. Robin seemed to be getting along with Eddie. Maybe they’re not that close. Would Dustin know? “You know, I think I asked him once.”

“Really? And what did he say?” She should’ve mentioned this first!

“I think he just started laughing and then deflected. Never answered me.” She stood up. They had to go back to work already. It was slow today, not much customers around so they kept chatting. “Why did you ask?”

“I don’t know.” Steve really was just curious. “We’ve all been friends for a while and I just realized we don’t actually know if ‘Eddie’ is short for anything.”

“He actually seems like the type of person to just be called ‘Eddie’. Like just ‘Eddie’, full stop.” Even if that’d be funny, it’s probably not it. “Anyway, just ask him.”

“Is that not weird?” He wondered.

“I asked him. He just didn’t tell me. Maybe you’d have more luck.” She smirked and it looked like she knew something he didn’t.

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Maybe I will.”

“You’re the one who wants to know.”

“Do you think he didn’t tell you because the name’s embarrassing or something?”

“He’s done so much embarrassing stuff, his name can’t be that bad.”

—

The next time he saw Eddie was when they were playing DnD, at Steve’s house. For some reason Eddie managed to convince Steve that hosting their nerd game was a good idea. He was sure it was his puppy dog eyes. Steve was not immune to those. Robin took advantage of that, constantly.

Steve almost forgot that he was gonna ask Eddie, it was when everyone left and it was just the two of them that Steve remembered the question he had been meaning to ask.

“Hey, Eddie.” He called out to catch his attention.

“Yeah?” They sat down on the couch after cleaning up.

“Is your name short for anything?”

He did exactly what Robin said he did when she asked him. He just started laughing, out of nowhere. Steve didn’t understand what was so funny.

When Eddie stopped laughing, he let out a sigh. “Anyway, what movies do you have?”

“Wha– you’re changing the subject! Why?” Steve was starting to get suspicious now.

“Why do you ask, Steve?” Eddie looked at him.

“I was just curious.” It’s true, Steve was curious. But now it felt like his name was actually something embarrassing, because why else would he avoid answering it in the first place.

“Sureee.” Eddie did not believe him. “To answer your question. Yes, my name is short for something.” Steve figured.

“What is it?” It couldn’t be bad. Steve only knew a handful of names that could be nicknamed Eddie, and those weren’t that bad.

“Ha! I’m not telling you that.” Eddie joyfully replied.

“What– why not?”

“I have to keep the mystery going.” He explained, tone completely serious.

“You’re not mysterious.” Steve deadpanned.

“Shut up, I so am.” Eddie bit back.

“It takes like, one conversation with you to know that you’re not mysterious.” Steve said. It was true, Eddie might have the intimidating look going on, but it was easy to overlook it as soon as he opened his mouth.

Eddie glares at him. “Are you done?”

“You still haven’t answered!”

“‘Cuz I’m not gonna.” Eddie grinned, he was just enjoying having something that Steve wanted to know. “Maybe you can guess.”

“Ugh” Steve fell further into the couch. “I don’t feel like it.”

“Just because I’m a generous and giving person,” Steve perked, he didn’t know why he wanted to know so badly. Maybe so he could use it whenever he wanted to scold him like one of the kids. “I’ll make you a deal.” Disappointed, Steve sighed.

“What’s the deal?” He asked.

“If you guess it,” Eddie put his hand on his chin. “I’ll give you something, anything you want.”

“What? Like a prize for guessing your name?” Steve scoffed. “What am I? A dog?”

“So you don’t want anything?”

“That’s not what I said.” Steve had a feeling that making a deal with Eddie was like making a wish to a genie. Eh, he would still get something out of it. “Whatever, sure. It’s a deal.” He just had to start guessing, until he got it. Shouldn’t be that hard.

“If you say so.”

“Is it Edward?” He gave his first guess.

“Well, that’d be too obvious.” Steve still waited for an actual response. Eddie rolled his eyes. “No, it’s not. Close, though.”

“Edison?”

“I’m so grateful it isn’t Edison.”

“Edmund?

“Oh god, they keep getting worse.”

“Yes or no?”

“No! Why would you think my name is Edmund? Do I look like an Edmund to you?” Eddie asked, scandalized.

Steve stayed quiet. “You want me to answer that?”

“Actually, let’s just watch a movie. That’s enough guesses for today.” Eddie went to shuffle through their options.

“I just started!” Steve protested. He should’ve known Eddie wasn’t gonna make it easy for him.

“I don’t feel like answering more. Try again later.”

Steve crossed his arms and pouted. When Eddie looked back at him, Steve stuck his tongue out, like a toddler. Eddie chuckled.

–

“Edwin?”

Eddie gave him a thumbs down.

–

“Edgar?”

Eddie spelled “no” with his fries. He proudly showed them to Steve.

Steve ate them.

–

“Edrian!”

“Where’d you even come up with that one?”

“I heard it somewhere.”

“Well, that’s not it.”

–

“Is it, like, just Ed or something?”

“Life would be easier.” Eddie dreamily looked to the sky. “So, no, it’s not.”

–

“I’m like, out of ideas, Robin.” Steve didn’t know whether to give up or look in the library.

“Maybe you need to look for obscure names, like really weird ones.” Robin made some hand gestures that he didn’t really know what they entailed.

—

“Can I get a hint?” Steve gave it his best shot at puppy dog eyes, he had big eyes, right?

Eddie wasn’t looking straight at him, he took one glance for like half a second and then decided to look forward. “I already did.”

“No.” He furrowed his eyebrows. “When?”

“With your first guess. I don’t think you need anything else.”

Steve let out a frustrated groan.

—

At the end, he didn’t guess shit.

Steve was dropping by some cookies he made, they were Eddie’s favorite. Steve wanted to improve some skills in the baking department, it was a win win. He got practice, Eddie got cookies. It didn’t mean anything else.

The government gave the Munsons a house after everything, it was on the outskirts of town. When he pulled up, he noticed that a letter had fallen down from the mailbox. When he picked it up he saw who it was addressed to.

Eduardo Munson.

There was no way.

Steve ran so fast his head almost clashed with the door. He knocked frantically. Eddie opened the door, Steve didn’t even wait to be invited in. He ran to the kitchen to set the cookies on the counter and raced back to where Eddie was.

“Your name is Eduardo?”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “How’d you find that out?”

Steve just handed him the letter he found on the floor. Eddie’s mouth formed an ‘O’, but he didn’t say anything.

“Well?” Steve crossed his arms.

“I guess now you know.” Eddie opened the letter to read it, he made his way to the couch and sat down. Steve followed.

“Is that why you said I was close with the name Edward?” Steve didn’t know anyone named Eduardo. Well, he thought he didn’t.

“Eduardo is basically the same name, but in Spanish.” Eddie, no, Eduardo nodded.

“Why– who decided that was gonna be your name?” Did his parents just like Spanish, or something? Steve thought. He obviously didn’t say it.

“My mom. She was Mexican. This letter is from my grandma.”

“Oh. Is it…” Steve didn’t actually know where he was going with that.

“Most of my mom’s side lives in cali, or Mexico.”

Eddie had the letter opened on his lap, Steve peeked. He didn’t want to pry, it was just a quick glance. Even if he wanted to read anything though, he couldn’t.

“That is, fully in Spanish.” His face was a mix of confusion and shock.

“Uh huh.” Eddie was holding back laughter. “What about it?”

“You speak Spanish?!” At this point, he didn’t even care if he was being loud.

“My grandma calls me regularly, like, once a month. She doesn’t speak an ounce of English.” Eddie’s face was fond. That shouldn’t be as cute as it was.

Steve’s jaw was on the floor. Never once did he expect to learn all of this just because he wanted to know if the name “Eddie” was actually short for another name. Eddie reached out and closed his mouth. Steve took some time to get himself back together. He collected the cookies and brought them back for Eddie.

“So, I didn’t guess.”

“No.”

Steve sighed, forlorn. “So, deal’s off, I guess.”

“Mmhm.” Eddie was concentrating on the letter in front of him. Steve slapped his arm. “What was that for?”

“You can read that later. I brought you cookies.”

Eddie snatched them, he started almost inhaling them. Jesus Christ. “These are great.”

“Thanks.” Steve blushed.

After that they were content to just hang out, doing whatever. Eddie told him more about his mom’s side of the family. There were a lot of family members that Steve couldn’t keep track of. He talked more with his grandma, aunts and uncle. Steve found out that his mom taught him Spanish when he was little. When she died, and his dad ended up in prison, his closer relative was Wayne so he moved in with him. His mom’s family always kept in touch, though. The last time his grandma visited was before Christmas in 1985.

“Say something in Spanish.” Steve was surprised with himself for asking that. Where did that come from?

“What am I? Your personal clown?”

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes. “It just hasn’t registered in my brain fully, that you speak Spanish. Maybe I have to hear it.” Steve tried. It was a cheap attempt at just wanting to hear it.

“What do you want me to say?” Eddie replied. Was he actually gonna do it?

“I don’t know.” Steve shrugged. An idea came to him, he straightened up. “What about the way your grandma greets you on the phone, or the way you answer?”

Eddie scrunched up his nose. Cute. “Ugh… she’s so mushy.”

“Now I have to hear it.” Steve clasped his hands together, battling his eyelashes.

Eddie just accepted defeat. “Fine!” He was now avoiding Steve’s eyes. “Whenever she calls she always starts with something like ‘¿Cómo está mi niño hermoso?’ Or she’d call me ‘mi vida’, or ‘mi cielo’. Honestly she calls me a lot of things.” Steve had no idea what that was, nor what it meant. But his eyes never left Eddie’s lips, not once. Hearing that was doing things to Steve. He suddenly felt hot.

“What does it mean?”

Eddie flushed red. He turned to Steve, eyes deadly serious. “You don’t wanna know.”

“Oh, but I really do.” Eddie shook his head no. “You have to tell me or else I’m just gonna start calling you that.” Eddie’s face was so funny, he looked scandalized at the possibility. “What was it again? Cie- cielo?”

Eddie swung his hands and arms around. “Stop! Don’t you dare continue.” Steve mimed zipping his mouth. “If you must know. She just asks how I am and she calls me her boy and other pet names.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, assessing him. “Is that the truth?” Eddie nodded. “I’ll accept that, for now.”

They spent the rest of the day watching tv. By the time Steve was leaving the sun was already setting. Eddie walked him to the door.

“What would you have asked for?” Eddie blurted. “If you had guessed my name.”

Steve glanced down at Eddie’s lips for the second time that day. He looked up at Eddie, even if they were almost the same height. Steve shrugged one shoulder. “I’m sure I would’ve come up with something.”

Steve leaned in and placed a quick kiss on Eddie’s cheek.

“See you, Eduardo.”

He stepped outside and walked to his car. He heard a loud thumping noise coming from inside the house and chuckled to himself.

–

Bonus:

Steve: he speaks Spanish, Robin!

Robin: I heard you the first time, dingus.

Steve: I don’t think you understand the severity of the situation.

Robin: *blank stare*

Steve: I can’t believe I have to date him.

Robin: you don’t have to.

Steve: no, no. I’m gonna.

[ronearoundblindly]

Kissing, lighting and sleepy sex for Hideout Steve and Reader?

I am not prepared. My feels...they shall be too deep and endless. I shall try anyway.

From this dirty ask game for this AU series where Nomad Steve lets motel-employee!Reader soothe his touch-starved body. Lawd, halp me, this is about to get crunk in a tooth-rotting, put-some-pillows-beneath-you you're-gonna-faint type o' way. [y'all can't tell I drank during the eclipse today, right? I'm subtle? Cool.] MINORS DNI.

K - Kissing

ACK My heart! Or rather, there is something deeply adoring for Steve when you kiss his chest, over his heart. It makes him feel just that much more like a person who lives in this world, who belongs in this world, who will return one day to this world...

His hands are also a big one--no, not just actually big hands, but important to show love to because he uses them for such violence. Each kiss is like a little touch of forgiveness for what he's done or had to do with those hands. He appreciates the trust it takes, too, to kiss his palms, when he could easily stop you breathing (sorry, that sounds dark, but Nomad was in a dark place, okay, bad things occur to him now).

Steve loves to kiss your stomach, and it might be somewhat taboo to say, but he has a touch of that crawl-back-home-for-safety comfort thing going on when he presses close and holds your center to him. It's not a mommy kink or roleplay, per se; he relishes the connectedness of being one and curling up against you is the only non-sexual way he knows how to achieve that--like in Chapter 3 when he falls asleep in that position.

As far as leaving marks though? Steve can emphatically say 'hell no,' not on purpose. Pain is a bit, meh, weird for him because he heals so quickly. He might not even notice if you did bite or bruise him. He certainly wouldn't see it in the morning. He does not in any way associate marks with love or affection since he only ever saw them on himself after fights or on women (including his Ma) after being abused.

That is not love to Steve.

It's control, it's dominance, it's inequality, and he fucking hates it.

L - Lighting

Steve entirely defers to you on whether there are actual lights on or off. He likes to use his senses to explore and enjoy you, so without light is fine. He's just here for you.

Steve does, however,--no spoilers for Chapter 5--like ambiance such as candles or something dim and colorful. He thinks you'd look unbelievably perfect beside a sparkling Christmas Tree. He hopes to celebrate (all holidays and birthdays and everything) openly with you some day. The sooner the better.

(Except, no audience for him making love to you under those twinkling lights, please. He's staunchly opposed to that sort of thing.)

S - Sleepy Sex

So, again, no spoilers for Chapter 5, but once Steve gets comfortable with oral sex he is comfortable with oral sex, if you catch my drift.

If he wakes up first, he's on you in some way, arms and legs draped over you, kissing any place he can get to, man-handling you just enough to start something he 100% will finish. He's just...uh god, so attentive.

With the super senses and being a fugitive though, it's not often that you can wake up before him, truly, which limits or completely removes the ability to surprise him with a blowjob, but he will dreamily let you roam wherever your mouth and hands take you. As long as there's lots of contact. As much as possible really. Like lay your arms across his thighs and abs while playing with him. Maybe put your body over one of his legs and ride his foot if you need to. He must feel attached in some way. Cold, distant, or separated does not do it for him.

Here's my absolute, I-will-die, favorite thing about Hideout Steve though: when he's tired/fatigued/worn out/sleepy, he gets louder.

Much. Much. Louder, babes.

No cursing, mostly, but all the moans and groans and whining are totally dialed up. And I don't know about y'all, but I can't really think of anything fucking sexier than Nomad Steve screaming that he's gonna come.

🥵

Thank you for asking!

A/N: Here lies Ro in a puddle. She made up a man she wants and will never have.

[Main Masterlist; Hideout Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

How do the m6 react to MC drawing them? Whether theyve stumbled over their open sketchbook with a bunch of random everyday sketches or MC actually shows them a finished piece they're proud of.

The Arcana HCs: M6 with a doodling MC

~ for every confident artist out there, there is probably another person like me who loves putting pencil to paper and hates what results each time lol. Here are your headcanons anon, with a little bonus of the M6's attempts to respond in kind - brainrot ~

Julian

He's not the most private person himself, so when he sees your sketchbook on the table he doesn't think twice before flipping through it

Regardless of your skill level, he will be very impressed. It's canon that his drawing skills are even worse than his handwriting, which is abonimable

Completely absorbed, takes a seat so he can flip through and study every page

If you catch him while he's looking at it he'll get the most adoring grin on his face

"Why haven't I seen this before MC? I'm dazzled!"

It will not occur to him that you might not want him looking at it unless you react negatively, in which case he will be extremely apologetic. He never meant to cross your boundaries

Will be the most obliging model if you ask him to. Desperate to please, just let him relish the way he can feel all your attention on him

He'll try once or twice to leave you a little drawing in return, but you're never able to decipher them so he sticks to complimenting your work instead

Asra

They tend to respect your privacy to a fault. The first glimpse they get of your work is when you sit down next to them and openly invite them to look at it

So deeply honored and generally in love with everything you do that he will genuinely adore every piece you've made

Which will definitely make you a little insecure at first. Considering they were talented enough to sell their masks and trinkets by the time they were a young teen, you might think your work is a little shabby next to theirs

His approach to art is, "if it came from your soul, it's as it should be" and if you tend to be overcritical towards your own art he will drill that into your head

If you ask them to model they absolutely will, but they'll get shy about you showing those pieces to anyone else

Will give you "come hither" looks the whole time though. No matter how you pose him he'll find a way to make it seductive

They like leaving doodles for you around the shop now, on little notes (or in the margins of your inventory ledger)

Will happily collab with you on a piece

Nadia

She notices the ink and pencil stains on your fingers long before she sees you sketching for the first time

Understands the importance of privacy but isn't the type to hesitate when she wants something

She'll approach you the second or third time she sees you sketching and ask if she can see what you're working on

Considering her background, you're ready for her to be unimpressed. She's a highly accomplished and educated lady after all

That's what ends up fascinating her. The only art she's seen has been hung up in galleries, or her sister's attempts which she never paid much attention to

Seeing something as raw and open ended as an unfinished sketch fascinates her

She has so many questions. Do you observe something or does it come out of your head? What are all the extra little lines for?

Will happily model for you if you request it. Even better, she can hire a professional model and provide some of her own input. With your permission, of course

She can't draw very well, but she can embroider. You are going to have very pretty handkerchiefs from now on

Muriel

One of the things that first drew him to you was your doodling. At the end of a long, hard day, you'd put down your bow and pick up a pencil instead

It was the first thing he felt connected to you by. But he's way too shy to ask to see, so if it's lying open he'll gaze at it with his hands respectfully clasped behind his back

You were a little shy with him too at first - you've seen the carvings he can make, he's quite the artist himself

But then he'll point out the little details and quirks of your style, and comment on how he likes them, and somehow he talks you into putting some on display in the hut

If you ask him to model, he'll be reluctant but he'll do it. Especially if there's nobody else available

No matter how you pose him he'll end up with his face partially obscured. He's just not used to sitting and letting someone study him like that

Buckets of sweat. By the time you're done he'll be bright red and dashing for the bath

Will take some of your studies of the animals and try carving them

Portia

Like her brother, boundaries aren't naturally assumed, they are only present in her mind if someone communicates them to her

So unless you've explicitly told her that your sketch book is private, she'll be flipping through it like a curious cat at the earliest opportunity

She's never been the type to sit still for very long unless there's something exciting to do (like read a really good novel) so she doesn't do much art beyond her exceptional hair styling skills

If she sees anything you've drawn of a part of town or object she recognizes, she'll point it out with so much excitement

Frames every sketch you've done of Pepi. You have to talk her into giving back the unfinished ones

Will happily model for you, but struggles with sitting still with nothing to do

The best piece you ever drew of her will be a candid portrait of her reading by candlelight, one hand on Pepi in her lap, the other holding her novel

When she sees how beautiful she is through your eyes she'll be too flustered and giggly to make eye contact for a bit

Starts adding small doodles of facial expressions to each note she leaves you

Lucio

He doesn't hesitate. The very first time he sees you sketching he's sitting halfway in your lap in his eagerness to see what you're working on

Goes through your sketchbook constantly, commenting on anything new

"Ooh, you added a plant to that one. This one is new! When did you do this one?"

If you really hate it he'll stop, but unless you put your foot down, what's yours is his and what's his is yours and that includes your art

There's no doubt in his mind that you're the best at what you do. If you don't measure up to the art he's used to seeing, he'll chalk it up to you using a different style and leave it at that

Will suggest posing for you before you can request it

It's a bit of a struggle. He'll hold a pose for five minutes and then think of a better one and switch to that immediately

Will start to pout if you tell him you don't like his poses, but when he keeps one long enough to feel the attention you give when you're drawing him he gets addicted

Will sometimes sit across from you with his own pen and paper and try to sketch you

[resowrites]

Rolo - oneshot.

Summary: Henry takes learning about his wife’s pregnancy a tad too far…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Wife!OC

Warnings: fluff, banter/British humour, language, dialogue heavy, graphic descriptions of labour/childbirth, nondescript OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 3002

A/N: Remember, this is pure fiction (as in completely made up) and not in any way meant to reflect reality. My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Rolo - oneshot.

"Oh my God, this reads like Stephen King…"

"Will you please be quiet? I'm trying to watch tv—"

"Oh stop, you can watch the A-Team any time. Now listen to this, a 'show' is the act of the mucus plug that seals the opening of the cervix, falling out as either a blob or smaller pieces of pinkish jelly—" she threw the spoon she was holding back into her pot of yoghurt.

"Henry shut up, I don't want to hear this while I'm eating!"

"It looks a bit like that apparently," he pointed to the pot in her hand, much to her chagrin. "It signals the start of the cervix beginning to soften and thin ready for labour, though this can take anywhere from an hour to several days to begin…" She hoped Henry was finally finished and tentatively took another mouthful of yoghurt. "Sometimes the colour of the plug is red or brown—"

"Henry, stop it!"

"What? I'm just trying to share with you the miracle of creation!"

"No you're not, you're being an annoying little shit because I had the last yoghurt and you don't want to let me enjoy it!"

"Don't be ridiculous, we've got our first scan coming up soon, don't you want me to be prepared?"

"Henry, it's not a fucking quiz, and anyway, it's me who has to answer any questions, not you!"

"Well, excuse me for wanting to be ready just in case, God most women would give anything for their husbands to be this involved!"

"Henry, why is it you need to know about the 'show,' or anything else that happens at that point in labour? You're not the one delivering the baby!"

"Well, who knows? You could go into labour on the bathroom floor and the paramedics might not make it to the house in time, we are a bit out in the sticks here."

"That won't happen, most women have to be induced—"

"What does that mean? Hang on let me look it up," he flipped further ahead in the baby book. "Ah, induction means to bring on the start of labour artificially. Before this is done, a membrane sweep is performed first. This involves a midwife or doctor sweeping their finger around the cervix via internal examination. This should help separate the amniotic sac surrounding the baby from the cervix—"

"Henry, I'm really getting annoyed with you now!"

"What? This is fascinating! To continue—" she gritted her teeth.

"If labour does not then occur, an induction will be offered next. This procedure involves the insertion of a pessary or gel into the vagina. If contractions do not begin after six hours, a further tablet or dose of gel will be used. Please be aware that induced labour is usually more painful and can require assistance via ventouse or forceps. What the hell's a ventouse?"

"Henry, I'm giving you until the count of five to put that book down. One—"

"A ventouse is a vacuum cup attached to your baby's head via suction—"

"Two—"

"It's pulled gently by the midwife or doctor to aid in delivery—"

"Three—"

"However, this method comes with several risks including a third or fourth-degree vaginal tear. This means the wall of the anus is ruptured—"

"Four, five! That's it, give me that right now!" She snatched the book from Henry's hands and chucked it aside.

"What the hell did you do that for?! We were just getting to an interesting bit!"

"Really, you find the instance of vaginal tearing even remotely interesting, do you?"

"Look, I have to learn about all of this otherwise I'll be clueless to help!"

"Is that right? And what help do you expect to be?"

"… Well, I can tell the doctor what it looked like before, it'll help him put everything back in place!"

"That's it, I'm going downstairs—"

"No, wait! I'm only joking, jeez lighten up will ya? I'm just trying to have a bit of fun!"

"Yeah, but it's easy to do that when you're not the one who has to give birth!"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm already shit scared about all of this without you telling me my rectum could be torn asunder!"

"Oh for God's sake, that isn't going to happen!"

"Oh yeah? How do you know?"

"Because I won't let anything like that happen, alright?"

"Henry you're not going to have that much control over the situation, neither of us will!"

"Well maybe not but at least I'll be there to advocate for you, and I'll make sure everything is done correctly. That's why I have to learn about each stage of delivery."

"Well, can you at least stop reading aloud? I honestly don't want to hear all the grisly details thanks very much!"

"It's not grisly! It's a beautiful process—"

"Henry, birth may be many things but it's hardly beautiful—" he ignored her and continued.

"Just think, you'll be able to squeeze a whole person out of an opening that's only a few centimetres wide! Well, actually your cervix has to be ten centimetres dilated before you can safely start to push."

"Oh, God help me…"

"What? I can't wait! Being able to watch my baby being born will be the happiest day of my life! Even if it also means having to watch my favourite place in the whole world become like a Stretch Armstrong…"

"What do you mean? You're not going at the goal end, are you?!" Henry snorted.

"Well of course! Otherwise, how do I know that it's actually ours and not one that they've swapped?"

"Henry, trust me, no one is going to take our baby. So you're really going to watch the whole thing? Even as I start to crown?"

"Wait, what does that mean?" He tried to reach for the baby book which was still resting at the bottom of the bed.

"Oh no you don't, I'm not hearing any more blow-by-blows of birth thanks very much."

"Fine! I'll just look it up on my phone."

"Yeah, you might not want to do that—" suddenly Henry shrieked aloud.

"Jesus bloody Christ! Did it have to show me pictures? God, it's like she's being ripped in half!" He held his phone up close to her face.

"I did tell you not to look it up! Anyway, you wanted to see it, are you still so keen now on watching it live?"

"Well, I had no idea it was that graphic! Christ, I hope I don't end up with performance issues…" Henry looked down plaintively at his crotch.

"Oh, typical, you have to make it all about you. Did you honestly think the baby just appeared? Like all I had to do was sneeze and out it popped?"

"Well no, but now I must admit I'm getting scared as well - me and all of my brothers were big babies, I don't think it's gunna be that easy…"

"Oh well great, thanks for warning me."

"What? I'm just being honest! You could end up having one of those record babies, you know like how you see on the internet?" She breathed in hard.

"Henry, if you do that to me I will actually never forgive you—"

"Well, it's not my fault! Weren't you a big baby as well?"

"No I bloody well wasn't!"

"Maybe that'll balance it out then, besides it's not like they can't stitch you up afterward!"

"Oh God, kill me…"

"What? I can always get you a little rubber ring to sit on!"

"Henry, if you don't button it right now—"

"They use stitches darling, buttons would hardly be appropriate—"

"Carry on sonny boy and you're gunna be the one who needs stitches!"

"Alright, alright. God, I was only trying to be helpful!"

"No you weren't, you were just trying to scare me!"

"No I wasn't, I would never do that! As I said, everything will be alright—"

"You don't know that! This will be my first time giving birth, literally anything could happen..."

"Well, I'm sure there are lots of things we can do to prepare. Just let me have my handy guide back—"

"No, you're not reading any more baby books!"

"Fine, I'll just consult Google then instead. Let's see, how do you prevent tearing during pregnancy?" She took a deep breath. "Ah, see here it says an ep-is-iot-omy, a cut made in the perineum, is performed to make the vaginal opening wider where necessary—" 

"Right, I’m putting on my headphones—" 

"This cut is typically made diagonally… wait so they don't just cut downwards? You know so it's like one big hole?" 

"Oh bollocks, they're out of power!" 

"Are you listening to me?!" 

"I'm trying not to, no." 

"Well you'll be glad to know there's also such thing as 'perineal massage—'"

"Oh, well that's a relief…" 

"This can be performed from thirty-five weeks onwards as a useful tool to help prevent tears. It even says I can perform the massage for you—"

"Yeah, no thanks."

"Well, what do you expect me to do then? Just wait outside and leave you in the delivery room all scared and alone?"

"You can stay here, in fact. I'm not sure I even want you in the building anymore…"

"Oh now come on, you know I was only trying to make you laugh talking about all this stuff!"

"Henry I don't need a bloody comedian, I need a birth partner who's gunna take it seriously and actually be useful—"

"Yeah and that's why I'll be right by your side, cheering you on, and you can scream and yell and hit me as many times as you want."

"Can I do that right now?" He gave her a mischievous smile.

"I tell you what, why don't we change the subject and try some birth positions instead? Look, you can even lay like this with your arse in the air," Henry kneeled on both legs and let his face fall into the pillow. "Actually, on second thoughts, it was this position that got you into this situation..." She choked on her cup of tea. "What about like this then," he jumped out of the bed and propped one leg up on the edge of it. "It's called the 'leg-up lunge,' really helps open up the pelvis apparently and relieve back pain," Henry looked over to see her holding her face in her hands. "Or you can just do this," he rolled onto his back and pulled back each leg with his hands. In doing so, he landed on the remote and accidentally changed the channel.

"Oh for fuck sake, Henry! It was just getting to a juicy bit!" 

"Tell me about it, I need you to check how far along I am—" 

"Henry, I really am starting to lose my patience!" She leaned between Henry's legs and tried to manoeuvre him off of the remote. 

"Hey, it's me who's meant to push, not you!" 

"Will you bloody stop it?! And move out of the sodding way—" she carried on rooting around, not seeing the bottle of water he'd quickly grabbed from the bedside table. Seconds later, a jet of water hit her face.

"OH NO, I THINK MY WATER JUST BROKE!!!"

 "W-WHAT THE FUCK!!!" She coughed and spluttered while Henry collapsed into a pile of giggles. "That's it, I'm done." She scooched off the bed and headed for the door.

"WAIT, wait!" She stopped and turned round to face him. "You've still got water on your face—" she tried to storm off, only for Henry to catch her by the wrist. 

"Get off me, you arch idiot. I'm so angry with you I could scream!"

"Oh now come on! I was just trying to give us a bit of practice. I don't want you to think you've wet yourself—"

"HENRY, THAT IS ENOUGH!"

"Mmmm... I love it when you get mad. Come on, let's have some fun—" he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

"You must be joking!"

"Well, what’s the harm? I've already knocked you up!"

"Henry—"

"And don't think I haven't noticed how big they're getting…" Henry pointed towards her chest.

"Listen to me you little turd, they're not the only things getting bigger. Very soon I'm going to be up to fifty pounds heavier, with an arse that could flatten even you - so don't piss me off!"

"... But I'll be able to hear you coming." 

"Right, that's it! I'm sleeping downstairs. Seeing as this is all just some big joke to you—"

"Whoa, hang on, that's absolutely not the case. I'm sorry, alright? I was just trying to make you less worried about giving birth. Honestly, I don't care if you scream, cry, puke, or even shit everywhere—" her nostrils flared. "Take it easy! Come on, let's get to bed, all this stress isn't good for the baby." She batted his hand away and folded her arms almost as soon as she was back in bed. "Okay, so you don't want to lie on your back. That's probably for the best seeing as the baby could then shoot across the room if you push too hard... I wonder if that's ever actually happened? Lemme see." She snatched the phone away.

"Henry, this is your last warning—"

"Fine, fine. Can we talk names then?"

"Oh, but we can never agree! Everything you like, I hate! Besides your mum used up most of the decent boy's names…"

"Well, let's think, what about Jack?"

"See, I like Jack but it runs into your surname because of the ‘k’ sound at the end. So it sounds like one long name, 'JackCavill.'"

"Okay, well what about Jake?"

"That's the same problem."

"Alright then, Jacob?"

"Nah."

"Caleb?"

"Nah."

"Callum?"

"Callum Cavill? Isn't that a bit of a mouthful?"

"Okay well, let's park boys' names for a minute and try out girls' names instead. What about Amelie?"

"Nah, I don't want too many syllables."

"Okay, Amy?"

"Mmm, no I don't want anything too cutesy."

"Ugh, what about Olivia then? That way she can be named after you—"

"Except my name's not actually Olivia is it?"

"Well, it's still a nice name! Why don't you come up with some instead of just criticizing me?"

"Actually, I'd rather just sit here and watch my programme in peace, seeing as how you've robbed me of that opportunity for the last half an hour!"

"But we've got to come up with a shortlist of names, otherwise, we'll struggle nearer the time!"

"Well, my sister said it's sometimes better to wait. Often you pick a name and then find that it doesn't actually suit the baby at all."

"... How about Hollie?"

"Hollie?"

"Yeah, I mean, she'll be born around Christmas time and it's a nice combination of both our names."

"Mmm… maybe."

"… And for a boy, we could always have Rudolph." She sighed and switched the tv off so she could turn over and go to sleep. 

"Hey, hang on, we're not done yet!"

"Henry, we've got months to decide and if it's okay with you, I'd like to get to sleep before I'm given any more reasons to have nightmares."

"Oh darling, there's really nothing to worry about. I mean, the chances of it having a conehead or a vestigial tail are actually very minor…"

"What the hell are you talking about now?!"

"Oh, didn't you know? When a baby is born its skull compresses so that it can squeeze its way out of the birth canal—"

"Okay, got it."

"But don't worry, it'll eventually round out in a few weeks—"

"That's good to know. Goodnight Henry."

"Wait! I haven't said goodnight to the baby!"

"Oh don't worry, they've been listening to you all evening and would now like some peace and quiet as well."

"Aww come on, roll back over so I can kiss them and you goodnight." She sighed and reluctantly turned onto her back. This was their new nightly routine and Henry wouldn't let her rest until he got to perform it. He scooted down slightly so he was level with her waist, and placed both hands gently on her stomach. He then lowered his head and spoke quietly.

"G'night bubba, Mummy and Daddy love you so, so much - only a few more weeks and we'll get to hear your heartbeat for the first time!"

"You know the lucky sod can't actually hear you just yet? It won't be able to until I'm at least eighteen weeks—"

"Will you please stop being such a spoilsport! And stop calling our baby 'it!' We at least need to come up with a placeholder name. Something sweet and memorable—"

"So that's a no to conehead then?" Henry clucked his tongue.

"Ignore her bubba, she's just cranky cos you're making her hormonal and retain water." She thumped him on the arm. "Ow! That hurt!"

"That wasn't me, that was my hormones…" Henry rolled his eyes. "And can you go get me some Rennies? I've got heartburn again."

"Hey, that's an idea, what about Rennie?"

"You want to name our baby after an anti-acid?"

"Well, can you come up with something better?" She considered it for a moment.

"How about Rolo? I mean that's the only thing I've been craving since I've been pregnant."

"Is it really a craving if you ate them lots before you were pregnant? And how come we can't name it after indigestion tablets but we can name it after your favourite chocolate?"

"Well, why not? I think Rolo's cute! It's about the size of one at the moment as well."

"Fine, although there's also the option of Henry Junior…" She gave him an annoyed look. "Alright, alright. Rolo it is. And don't worry, to me you'll always have a beautiful vagina—"

"Right, just for that, get your arse down those stairs and get me some Rolo's as well. Now, mister!"

"… Are you sure there's any left?" The look on her face made Henry shoot out of bed but not before he gave both her and her stomach a kiss.  

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

@elizabetharegina @fanfictionaddiction99 @luclittlepond @caffeinatedfestivalsheep @summersong69 @ushijimbo

[laurark]

2023 Wrap Up

A strange year that was both long and short. The main lesson to learn from 2023 is the same lesson I have been learning every year since I was 6 years old: Things happen if you try!

 I spent a lot of time this year hitting my head against a wall, or rather healing from an RSI that caused making art to become really fraught. I could bear the wrist pain in order to do my favorite thing (drawing!!!) but then the pain stuck around after I had clocked out for the day and was making dinner. It would go like this: I want to make pasta sauce using canned tomatoes, but using a can opener is so painful now that maybe I should just do something else. The onions and garlic are already cooking in the pan though, what can I pivot that to? I felt like the biggest dunce in the world. I worked my way into being cursed, I deserved it.

I have this craving to just commit to a big art project, like a graphic novel, and keep my head down working on it. Having all my time devoted to work feels a bit like doing penance, like earning my bread. But I look at the world and I know I cannot draw my way out of this. I can’t write my way out of this. I can’t post my way out of this. I am unprepared for what I need to do to earn a better tomorrow. But I am prepared to learn.

I changed up my desk ergonomics and my wrist healed. Thank you to the huge desk easel that I stole from my parents’ house. It’s ugly, heavy, stained, and I keep banging my elbows on its sharp corners. It sucks but it saved my life. Do not resist making your workspace uglier if it might help you! 

Making The Influence and participating in the ShortBox Comics Fair was a huge work highlight this year. I’m so grateful I can make a work with dark themes and have it be understood and appreciated. The encouraging response to The Influence did a lot to kill the bad faith reviewer in my mind. Things are possible if you try!

I started painting again and I really love it. I’m trying to just follow the image-making. Painting is play to me and I want it to remain so. I feel myself itch to turn it into some kind of profitable thing, to make it palatable, but I’m trying to resist so it remains a place of experimentation. 

I also wrote a short novel. It’s awful. I just re-read it and it’s so bad, but reading it makes me happy. It needs serious reworking to be a proper novel, but I did technically cross the finish line and write the whole story. It was very refreshing and informative to branch out like this, even if I don’t think this particular example is fit for human consumption. Earlier in my life I was so stubborn about ONLY working in comics but now I’d like to pursue whatever path I can to have a creative career. If you try!

I had a great time tabling at Short Run this year. Two different people came to my table and told me they came to the show specifically to see my table. One person said Bug Boys was responsible for facilitating “many special moments” with them and their niece. I don’t want to forget about moments like this. It means a lot to me. 

It occurs to me as I type out this year’s accomplishments, they’re mostly things I did at home alone. I haven’t rejoined the world after COVID in a meaningful way, the way I hoped I would during lockdown. It comes naturally to me to make up excuses to stay home, keep my head down, watch how things play out before joining in. That attitude does me a disservice. It isolates me. When other people are only in the screen, they become hypothetical. It’s not right to live this way, but it’s comfortable to me. It feels “safe” after COVID, even though it’s not safe. I know I need to change this. 

It feels sick and strange to be blogging in my safe little apartment during a time of bloodshed. To flip through my planner and think of my future while others starve is obscene. My entire life was obscene in this fashion. It’s my responsibility to sit with this feeling and do something with it.

Here’s to a better 2024. We can do it, we can try. 

In love and solidarity, 

Laura K.

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

finished my rewatch of gravity falls today so here's some random thoughts i wrote down over the course of the last few episodes (sure most of this has been mentioned already but eh. no harm in repeating things):

-could you imagine how differently things would've gone if any of the pines members knew about ford's nightmare (especially stan)

-ford visibly shaking from how hard he's digging his fingers into the floor (referring to the security droid grabbing him)

-ford almost dies three times before bill actually captures him

-'i haven’t been able to find grunkle stan anywhere' was stan not at the shack at that time or did you just not consider checking his house

-a full limerick for 'man from kentucky' wasn’t allowed, but onscreen death is??

-shapeshifter wink + mabeland fake wendy wink

-why is the unicorn half petrified? what caused the gnome to be mostly petrified, but not quite? how was woodpecker guy able to keep his petrified woodpecker? so many questions about these guys. what occurred here

-first time ford gets turned to "gold", he appears cracked. the second time, he’s free of cracks. implication: either the stone/"gold" people get turned into cracks over time or bill roughed ford up a bit even before the torture

-bill disassembles ford and reassembles him on the other side of the room. interesting to consider for. y'know. torture

-speaking of bill, WHY DO YOU HAVE EIGHT EYELASHES NOW. YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO HAVE SEVEN

-love fiddleford so much. and also zanthar. and craz and xyler. and soos. and-

-manly dan hugs wendy more gently than soos does

-'(strangely genuine) good to see you too bro >:(' i'm sorry stan did seeing your brother trapped in a horrifying gold-ish statue change your tune a bit

-i agree with the circle actually. the fuck are you doing, stan. 

-i feel like the stan twins were strangled in different ways. it seems like ford was literally being strangled and bill was doing something directly to stan's lungs, based on the way they reacted to it. or i'm looking way too much into the animation who knows

-the way stan kneels on the ground :((((

-actually every scene with post-deal stan in it

-ford ultimate depression

-waddles was waiting for them :(((((((((

-stan lies in different ways depending on what he remembers (referring to him lying about the destroyed house being a nice place to be polite)

-'someone get waddles off of me!!' ford: :0 :D

-this also implies that ford learned waddles name at some point

-was wondering why pacifica seemed to have a bit of a character regression. then realized that she had to live with her abusive parents after the party. they uh. they need to be obliterated (heck you can even tell there's a sort of distance between them based on the fact that pacifica's parents wait for her to come to them, as opposed to the corduroys running to wendy immediately. it's not even a durland + blubs situation, they are fully aware of their surroundings at this point)

-pacifica's still trying her best though!!

-ford sings happy birthday with everyone else :)))

-ford's hair grows out really quickly

-'heh' resulting in an immediate :0 until ford keeps talking, at which point stan smiles again

-stan did you think that laugh was intended to be a 'that's ridiculous stan why would you ever think that' type deal and not a 'wow i love talking to you this is great' type thing

-'SHUT UP FOREVER'

-'CAN IT SOOS' in sync (hey ford you learned his name!)

-stan's 'don’t test me >:(' implication vs ford's 'i have killed and i will do it again' implication

-ford comforting hand on shoulder. stan looking shocked until he sees ford smiling at him. grgaggasgg

-fucking love these two

-stan writes in print in all caps (this might mean nothing to you but trust me there is a reason i'm pointing it out)

-ford doing the hand thing in the credits

-'ford hates mabel' DID YOU MISS THE FUCKING TURKEY

that's it that's all of the thoughts

it can go in the tag cause. why not, y'know?

[pianocat939]

blurb of yan rise turtles with s/o that often gets frustrated and cry with her own stuttering that sometimes she'd forget what she was trying to say so she would often just stop talking altogether

I bring you another comfort blurb

Tw: Fluff. Just fluff.

Rats Ate Mi Arm:

He’s very patient, waiting to see if you can finish your sentence. If you end up breaking down and forgetting what you were gonna say, he'll hold you and waits to see if it comes back. If it doesn't, he'll try to comfort you, saying that it might come back someday. Definitely carries around a notepad and pen so these incidents occur less.

La Fucking Slav:

He's holding your hands while you're stuttering, listening intently. If you lose it, he's shushing you and tries to get you to focus on remembering rather than anything else. Insists on attempting to speak slowly so you can maybe have a better chance of expressing words.

Damn I Think The Polish Kid And I Are Fighting Again:

(Today me and the Polish kid argued about who has better Pierogis/Varenykys)

The first few times he awkwardly stands there and tries his best to comfort you. He coaxes you to say your words one at a time, boldly. But after a while, he invents a device that can help you transcript your thoughts without having to physically type it out.

Merengue More Like Lord Farquaad:

Instant hugs. He's also a patient listener like Raph but may be more forceful than intended. He tries to guess a few words, not in a mean way, but to move you along with the sentence easier. Also carries around a writing utensil and pad so this happens less. Oh and definitely has colored pens for funsies.

(Sorry if these all sounded the same, I'm not very creative today)

[thesherrinfordfacility]

lmao guess whos activated ✨blathering oaf mode✨ again (clue: its me)

(cut because length and spoilers, read at your own peril)

so this post got me spiralling into detective mode again and yes i know douglas suggesting it might have been war/pollution but i have certified trust issues™ and i dont believe that for one darn second

BUT

i also don't think it's a kiss. lemme explain horrifically

so i took another look at the two frames we have of The Leaked Smooch™ and the background has a lot to be desired (if you take into account that the boys are taking up most of the frame (duh), plus already fairly average quality video PLUS compression from when i captured it)

but i think we can safely rule out that The Leaked Smooch™ doesn't happen in the theatre here, mainly because even though the quality is bad, the glasses in the Smooch™ are crowley's modern ones, not the ones we saw him wear in the 1941 flashback in s1, plus his hair is differently styled... so yes can pretty confidently say this is not the kiss we are looking for

so i wanted to pinpoint what era the theatre bit is actually set in, and therefore i set about identifying the theatre in question. turns out kids that im not a good researcher (despite it literally being my job) so it took FUCKING AGES but i eventually found set photos of the boys entering a theatre, specifically the hippodrome in bo'ness:

now this was a turn-up for the books, because that's crowley's 1941 costume right??? id recognise that iconic fit anywhere. az's costume is trickier to pinpoint bc he wears the same damn thing but pretty sure this is a match to the church scene:

so we know from s1 that we have the church scene yada yada, and crowley offers aziraphale a lift home... which we know he accepts given that the s2 trailer gives us the ✨Dinner of '41✨ scene:

the other bit however to this puzzle is that there ALSO a set pic of aziraphale at the hippodrome in his magician's outfit. given the frame from the trailer where he looks like he's about to brick it going on stage, surrounded by lovely burlesque girlies and dame siân phillips in period dress, AND there were extras on the set dressed in ww2-type army uniforms, so i think it can be fairly surmised that this bit also occurs in the 40s

so my thought process is that we're getting two separate scenes (kinda) from the 40s, we have the church bit from s1 plus the Dinner of '41 scene as its own entity, but then, like

aziraphale is doing his magic act as a side hustle to this burlesque show? and crowley turns up to watch him, hiding out up in the box?

if we follow this completely made up narrative ive just come up with, aziraphale, im assuming, finishes up and gets changed into his normal clothes, and then goes up to this box to meet crowley?

to this end, i captured and slowed down the bit in the opening sequence where aziraphale and crowley (sorry douglas, not buying it) are in the box... and-

now to my eye, the motion of them in the clip looks like they are dancing? i don't have the source to hand but we've had it confirmed that a choreographer was brought into s2, not impossible az would go up to meet crowley after his magic act, whilst there's still something going on on the stage, and the two end up dancing or something? and az bless his heart gets spooked from that?

im reasonably convinced that this might be the origin of the 'you go too fast for me' line - something happens and ultimately aziraphale gets spooked given that he's only just realised he has Feelings for crowley, and so my boy fucking legs it (a lil post i made a while ago about this exact scenario if you'd care to peruse)

other thing to note:

there is a figure that is lurking behind aziraphale and crowley in the box, which looks like it moves specifically in sync with crowley, so it could be a shadow, or someone/thing is in the box that they aren't aware of 👀 so maybe this thing (?) witnesses it all? whatever went down in the box?

so in my addled feral mind, ive come up with a speculation that even as im breathing life into it sounds unhinged and so implausible it's hilarious -

i put to you, members of the jury, that something was meant to happen in that box, and it didn't... that something being that crowley makes a move of some kind - kiss, dance, hug, declaration, WHATEVER - and aziraphale was meant to accept it/reciprocate/idk, but didn't.

and that fucks with the plan, and for lack of better terminology creates a nexus event (lmao thanks loki) which in turns starts screwing with other events, somewhat like i theorised in this post here tehe

are aziraphale and crowley, essentially, the earth's endgame? idk about u but ive read enough angst fics to know that it's not inconceivable that crowley and aziraphale's mere existence may have been part of god's plan to represent free will on earth, defend humankind, and give balance and meaning to it

so what would happen if aziraphale essentially rejected that? did the most human thing possible and resisted the plan? idk i feel at this point i am just writing a fic and this will all be ludicrously incorrect bUT half the fun is torturing yourself over your own theories right 🙃

[philtstone]

your choice of Fellowship members, 17

#17 -- "San Fransisco", The Mowgli's I've been in love with love and the idea of, Something binding us together, You know that love is strong enough :')

For all that Sam has only just traversed half of Middle Earth and faced unspeakable horrors, there is still a small part of him, which he is sure many a self-respecting Hobbit would be proud of, that feels wholly out of sorts at an event of Men so grand as this.

The food at Aragorn's coronation feast is right delicious, though. This does make Sam feel very confirmed in his choice of friends.

"I don't think they'll do it," comes Pippin's voice, while Sam finishes the last of his ale and happily digs into a very flavourful sweet potato pie, "there's too many people watchin'. And her father's right there and everything."

"I'll bet you half of Gimli's best pipeweed,” says Merry, “in ten minutes -- alright, fifteen -- they’ll be off. Go on, look at their faces, Pip."

"Bet on your own pipeweed," grumbles Gimli, rather more loudly than might be advisable. "And nae, they'll last another twenty yet. These elf types are made of unnaturally strong stuff, I've come to find."

"You're only saving the pipeweed because you are afraid of losing it to me," says Legolas calmly. "As I am correct in thinking they shan't last five."

Sam watches as Gimli takes back his compliment, and Legolas's flagon of ale, with great ceremony. Legolas is handed a second, unscathed flagon immediately by Pippin, who seems to have produced it out of thin air.

Amongst all the everything else, Sam has to admit there's something relieving about being able to simply sit in companionable tomfoolery with his old friends. There is still loss, lingering around them, but it doesn't hurt so -- certainly not at a time like this, when joy ripples through the room like a bubbling brook, carried by most everyone in the court but none so effortlessly as Aragorn himself, whose face -- ever grave, often warm in Sam's memory -- is transformed completely into a beacon of radiant, cloudless laughter.

Beside him, almost literally glowing with her own happiness, is Lady Arwen.

Throughout the former half of the day, Aragorn had admirably devoted his attention to any and all who required it, with a forward sincerity that no one could question. It’s by now late evening, and the King and his lady have spent the day standing closer and closer to one another until now they are all but bound at the hip like lovers (which Sam supposes with a little private nod to himself they are), sat at the great table at the front of the room (most folk are too caught up in their own celebrating to notice anymore), arm in arm (like black-eyed Susans wrapped ‘round each other!), and with their heads bowed such that their cheeks almost touch but not so much that the whole hall can’t see their delighted, whisper-y, intimate laughter. 

They’ve been at it for nearly an hour by now. It’s a little hard to tell whose robe starts where. Sam’s sure that were this any other time and place, there'd be a lot of tongues wagging about propriety and such.

Then again, Sam doesn't know much about propriety when it comes to Men and Elves, does he? 

“I’m telling you,” says Merry. “Fifteen more minutes, and then we’ll look over, and they’ve snuck off.”

“No, no,” says Pippin, wiping importantly at his froth mustache; they are, Sam’s got to admit, all a bit in their cups. “They’re too much in their own world. I don’t think it’ll occur to them to do it.”

“Five,” says Legolas primly. “The people are reveling and Lord Elrond looks pleased.”

“He’s looking pleased at the wall all the way over there,” says Gimli, stifling a dignified burp. He passes Legolas the ale again, who takes it and finishes it off, “which is well enough, I’d agree, but dear Pippin makes a good point.”

“Why thank you, Gimli.”

“What do you think, Frodo?” asks Merry, crossing his arms in a preemptive triumph.

They all look over; Frodo’s been more quiet than any of the rest of them all evening, which is to be expected these days. Sam thinks this with a sharp ache in his heart. Merry and Pippin and Gimli, alongside many others, have loosened their proverbial neckties and rumpled themselves the way grand feasts ought to rumple you; even Legolas has hairs sitting the wrong way on his head. Save the scarf Pippin lent an hour ago for additional warmth, Frodo looks just as he was early this morning: clean and tired, and occasionally with a small smile on his face whenever he looks upon his friends. For Merry's question he does not have a smile, and takes a long moment to answer, and Sam worries that perhaps in their own enjoyment they’ve left him too long to be caught in his own head and heartache – on a night like this! – and the thought carries with it a sort of sadness that a Sam of only a year ago wouldn’t have thought possible.  

Then Frodo says,

“The real question we ought to be asking, Merry, is — how much do we think Aragorn has had to drink?”

And he isn’t his old self, to be sure, but he’s got a little sparkle of mischief in his eye that gets Sam grinning a big old grin.

The collective begins muttering contemplatively amongst themselves quite immediately.

“Now that is a good question,” says Merry. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him have more’n a cup,” opines Gimli. “Now, Legolas — Legolas --" (He reaches an arm over to swat at the elf) "you've known him longer than the rest of us --"

“Hmmmm,” is all Legolas says, deep in a consternated focus, looking with such drunken intensity at the king that Sam thinks it’s a miracle Aragorn doesn’t notice.

Or maybe he does, and is just ignoring them.

“He does seem awful giggly-like,” says Pippin, drawing his chin back with wide eyes and a voice tinged with a bit of awe, “that’s right enough.”

Even Sam finds himself seriously considering Frodo's question.

Then,

“He has had barely a drop,” interrupts a sudden, sonorous voice, and the group of them startles sharply. There, of course, is Gandalf: appeared robed and overall perfectly put together behind their table, sucking serenely on his pipe where he stands tall above them, “for the King's attention has been elsewhere; what you are observing is simply the effects of being in love.”

His eyes twinkle with the same mischief Frodo's held.

“Or,” Gandalf adds slowly, “indeed, what you are not observing.”

He nods with significance, and Sam turns back to see a thoroughly empty pair of seats.

“Oh!” exclaims Pippin.

“How long’s it been?” demands Merry.

"I cannot see them!" cries Legolas.

“Oh, not four minutes,” says Gandalf gravely, and Legolas makes a dismayed face.

“But a moment off!” he laments.

“So I suppose not a single one of you may claim Glimli's good pipeweed,” Gandalf informs them. He blows a perfectly shaped smoke ring towards Merry, who sighs with yearning; Pippin is still looking around the room open-mouthed with surprise. “Now, if you might excuse me, I must go meddle in some affairs,” says Gandalf.

He sweeps away, towards the other far corner of the hall, where between the dancers Faramir stands shooting looks (Sam's sure he himself has had such looks in the past) at a resplendent (if slightly red cheeked) White Lady of Rohan.

Sam sits back in his seat. It's true, all in all: Aragorn and Arwen really are nowhere to be found. Lord Elrond, Sam notices, continues to look very determinedly at that wall, but with a happy sort of expression on his face.

Sam's seen just enough of the world to figure when how some elves are feeling, at least.

"He could've come said goodnight," says Merry, sounding slightly put out.

"Ach," says Gimli, with a surety that's very characteristic of him, yes, but terribly comforting all the same. "We'll see him again tomorrow."

And the simple truth of it, Sam thinks -- if just for now -- might be the greatest relief they've all felt in some time.

He looks towards Frodo; he has a hand held over his mouth, and is working very hard to smother his laughter. With another private nod to himself, Sam digs back into his potato pie.

“So …” begins Pippin's voice again after a moment, emerging from the cheerful bustle and chatter around them. “How long do we think, 'til Faramir and Eowyn sneak off?"

[lixtokki]

nobody like you

pairing: chan x reader (afab) word count: 3.3k rating: 18+ warnings: spanking! marking! possession kink!! unprotected sex a/n: hello i'm back!!!!! a nice long fic for my return hehe. this was half written while i was stoned so yk if there's errors i'm sorry

summary: weeks pass after your breakup with chris and his number continues to burn a hole in your phone.

your friends had given you every reasonable explanation under the sun to block chris’ number, to completely rid your life of his presence. you’d blocked his social media accounts, you’d taken back the spare key to your apartment, you’d even changed the netflix password. but, night after night, your thumb hovered warily over the ‘block contact’ prompt in your phone. press it and he’s gone, it was that simple. maybe that’s why you hesitate. 

everyone had warned you it was no good to leave a communication line open between you. apparently chris has been pegged as the type of man to abuse such a thing. it almost stings when weeks pass since your messy breakup and you’ve not heard anything. no pleading texts that your friends assured you would eventually come. no voicemails. nothing.

now what were you supposed to do? move on? it was finally sinking in that you had broken up — a decision you made in earnest after too many arguments that never got resolved; it was for the best, and yet. you miss him. you miss everything about him. or maybe you miss a feeling of toxicity that was so shrouded in familiarity that it started to feel like home. 

so, you do what anyone in their heartbroken, wrong mind would do. you go out, get drunk and prowl for a rebound; a quick fuck that will hopefully be, at the very least, a bandage for the gaping wound chris had left in his absence.

the guy you bring home is nothing special. honestly, you don’t even remember his name. he barely fucks you before spilling into the condom embarrassingly early and you tell him to just go when he awkwardly asks you if you came yet. stuffing his flaccid cock back into his jeans, he leaves your place in a flash, head hung low in shame. 

so much for that.

rolling your eyes, you drag your hand down your naked body, dipping your fingers into the very bare minimum of wetness he’d procured. letting your mind wander, you begin rubbing slow circles against your clit. thinking about… well. chris. you frown at the thought. rather unwillingly, your mind visits memories of just how good chris could fuck. it might be the only thing you’ll miss in the long run. a smile returns to your face at the recollection, chris mercilessly pounding into you with a hand gripped around your throat. a moan tumbles from your mouth and you freeze. your eyes fall to the phone resting on the nightstand. or more, what’s inside the phone.

you try to seriously consider this. it has too much potential to go wrong. but you’re so hard up on the sheer thought of him that you don’t care. keeping your fingers pressed to your clit, you snatch up the phone in your free hand, swiping away furiously until you find his number. calling… now that would be risky. too much of a risk that you’re not willing to take. moaning again, you type out a message to him. 

you: can’t stop thinking about u and i’m wet af

the thought that chris might ignore you doesn’t occur until you hit send, throwing your message into the void. your anxiety is short lived however as your phone almost immediately buzzes with a response.

chris: yeah? miss me that bad? 

you: yeah. just had the worst fuck of my life

chris: is that so?

you keep chris’ penchant for possessiveness at the forefront of your mind for this conversation, smiling coyly at your phone while your fingers work slowly at your clit. 

you: i didn’t even get to finish :(

chris: that’s too bad. baby will just have to finish herself off

and, you do. with chris’ texts guiding you, you rub yourself all the way to orgasm, legs shaking, mouth agape. you picture him here, buried inside you, his phantom moans music to your ears. in the heat of the moment he’d often tell you that nobody could ever make you feel as good as he does, and you’re starting to think he might’ve been right. 

the sexting quickly becomes a habit. a little secret you and chris share. almost every night you find yourself in bed earlier than usual, tapping out all sorts of sordid promises to your ex boyfriend. you tell him you thought about him all day. you tell him your panties were soaked at work from imagining his cock in your mouth. he tells you you’re the nastiest little slut and he can’t believe he ever let you go.

eventually the daily dirty messages aren’t enough. the promises went broken. all that talk was just that… talk. as much of a mistake as it is, you type out a message telling chris to put his dick where his mouth is. it’s a late saturday evening and you may be two glasses of wine down. with your judgment hindered, you send the text. 

chris: knew you’d give in first

chris: i know you too well

that’s the last you hear from chris until he’s knocking at your front door. you’re barely revealed to him before he’s pouncing inside, attaching his body to yours, hands fastening around in your waist in that familiar furious fashion. you melt back into chris’ touch, each one of your senses set alight by memories of your intimacy burning fresh in your mind. 

in response, you kick the door closed with your foot and connect your arms around his neck, immediately leaning up to meet his mouth in a heady mash of lips, tongue and teeth. it’s everything you remember and more; firm, guiding but frenzied, driven by an insane lust that only you seemed to bring out in him. 

it doesn’t take long for his hands to roam, curious to feel every inch of skin that might’ve forgotten him. his hands dip to your ass, squeezing your flesh roughly before gliding back up and delving inside your t-shirt. his wandering fingers pause at the feeling of your bare breasts.

he smirks against your lips, pulling away just enough to talk. “what’s this?” he asks coyly, taking the entirety of your tits into his hands and kneading them slowly, “stripping for me before i even got here?” 

you could hardly deny it. not with the feeling of coarse skin colliding with your sensitive nipples tugging small, lewd moans from your mouth. neglecting to answer, you bury your head in the crook of his neck hoping a meek nod will suffice as an answer. 

it does not. made obvious by his playful chuckle that sends shivers down your spine. you’re expecting games, teasing. you’re not expecting him to suddenly tug your legs around his waist, hoisting you into the air and carrying you through the apartment to your bedroom — an old path that’s still fresh in his mind. 

you’re certain chris has something on his mind, so you wait, eager to please. he places your two feet on the floor once again, taking his seat at the edge of the bed and bringing you in between his thighs. “so,” he says, lifting your shirt slightly and peppering small kisses across your bare stomach, “you started stripping,” he says, fingers toying with the thin fabric of your pyjama shirt, “finish up for me, babygirl. wanna see you.” 

you meet his gaze for a few moments, and it reminds you of what you’re doing. who you’re doing it with. so, you do the adult thing and tug the shirt over your head off, breaking the eye contact and giving chris somewhere else to look. thankfully, the moment your breasts are exposed to him he’s busy, dragging his lips upwards in a hurry to cover your chest in kisses, bites and flicks of his tongue. 

just when you let your eyes flutter shut and your head roll back in pleasure, chris halts suddenly. you assume sense has overcome him but when you open your eyes to survey him… you see his gaze frozen, pointed on a particular spot on your chest. 

“chris—“ 

you try to query but he quickly cuts you off. “what’s this?” he asks, his fingers grazing over the expanse of skin in question. 

ah. you remember now. a souvenir left behind by another shitty fuck you had recently. a fuck you purposely sought out to alleviate the want—need for chris. well, the guy was as lacklustre as you expected… in fact he had some serious gall to sign his work with a hickey. now, he had also had the audacity to try and ruin another fuck. not on your watch. 

pressing your thigh to chris’ groin, you let your head fall shamefully. “wanted someone to make me feel good…” you admit, your voice meek. 

chris holds your waist firmly with one hand while his other hand snakes round to your backside. “wanted someone to make you feel good?” he repeats, dragging your pyjama bottoms down and down, underwear in tow. 

“yeah,” you tell him, holding his head in your hands, pressing your chest to his face, “just wanted somebody to fuck me so i could close my eyes and think about you.” your honestly surprises even yourself. 

“is that so?” chris murmurs, pushing a curt laugh out through his nostrils, “was he convincing?” you feel his hands hover steadily over your exposed ass. 

you shake your head, “no… nobody fucks like you,” you tell him. and you probably mean it. leaning down, you start pressing kisses into chris’ unruly curls, breathing in the familiar scent of his tea tree shampoo — it sends your mind careening into memories of your fingers in his hair, of his head on your pillow. 

“mm, and you still let him leave a mark, yeah?” chris asks, his voice is stern but he can’t stop himself from pressing his head further into your touch. 

“i’m sorry,” you breathe the words into his forehead, rocking your thigh against his tightly packed cock.

clearly, he’s unconvinced as he raises a hand only to bring it down harshly on your bare ass. the sting rings loud in your ears, the piercing hot pain sending sears of pleasure straight to your pussy. you could never deny that chris knows how to hurt good. he does it again, striking your ass cheek with his open palm, relishing the way you tense in anticipation. 

“tell me, babygirl,” he murmurs, biting over the purple mark your previous lay had left behind, “how many guys since me?” he sucks your skin whilst waiting for an answer, painting over the sickening stain with his own teeth and tongue.

it’s a small number, but still one you’re ashamed to admit. “three,” you tell him truthfully. three guys, each one worst than the last, or perhaps that was just the illusion chris drew up for you after you resorted to texting him after each failed one night stand; begging for him to virtually finish the job they couldn’t do with you laid out bare before them. “three guys. no more.” you say to reaffirm. 

when he’s finished marring your chest, he looks up to you, boyish grin plastered on his beautiful face, tongue poking through his teeth, “wow, three guys and none of them could fuck you like i can.” he’s so smug, and with every reason to be. “still,” he continues, fingers dancing over your reddened backside, “three is three too many.” 

to your dismay, chris pushes you away, holding you firmly at arms length. he shimmies back on the bed until the back of his knees hit the mattress. “over my knee.” he commands, taking hold of your hand and guiding your body across him. you follow suit, of course, shimmying out of your final constraints of pyjama shorts and underwear, revealing yourself fully to him before laying sideways atop his lap, ass perched upwards. “you gonna count for me, babygirl?“ he asks with a coo. 

his free hand finds your face, holding your jaw, keeping your head place. your response is a nod held within his gentle grip. 

his hand slowly retracts upwards, slamming back down against the curve where your ass meets your thigh; the sharp pain rolls out in dull waves throughout your lower body. you gasp, whimper and moan all at once. “one,” you breathe out, taking a deep breath and preparing for another smack. 

the next one is harder, louder. it leaves tears stinging the corner of your eyes. chris’ fingers playfully skim over the fresh red marks that adorn your ass, he admires his work whilst waiting for you to count. 

“t-two.” you mewl as chris’ hand squeezes your face tighter in his grip. 

weeks and weeks of teasing texts and you still hadn’t had the sweet satisfaction of his hands or cock inside you; truly, you were starting to go mad, the fresh addition of pain only highlighting how neglected your cunt is feeling. all you can do is squeeze your thighs together and hope chris is merciful with you. 

another slap lands on your ass, the hardest one yet. you cry out something caught between a moan and a sob, your back arching from the intensity. “three,” you hiss, sucking air in through your clenched teeth. the slaps are quick, fleeting but the pain throbs in blunt waves throughout your entire body. 

“good girl.” chris simpers at you, massaging your cheek with his thumb, “three. one for every guy you’ve had up here.” 

you smile at the praise, leaning your head into his gentle touch. he almost makes you forget the circumstances which brought you both here; it’s unspoken but it hangs in the air, heavy, like the sky before the rain. 

“i hate thinking about other guys with their hands on you,” chris says, breaking the lengthy silence that hung between you whilst his fingers soothed the pained skin of your backside.

“forget them,” you whisper, suddenly sitting upwards and straddling chris, “make me forget them.” you grind your bare pussy against him, the damp spot you leave behind doesn’t go unnoticed. 

you hear something akin to a growl stick in chris’ throat and next thing you know he’s taking a rough grip of your arms and shoving you back-first onto the bed. he stands up and rods himself of all his clothes, making quick work of it whilst you lay there, staring holes into the ceiling, wondering when the regret will sink in—wondering if it already has. 

luckily, chris’ body soon collides with your own again, knocking the guilt clean out of you, for now. you breathe him in, deeply, holding onto his scent like he might disappear; and you’re certain that, after this late night session, he will. wrapping your arms around his body, you bring your chests together, both of your ragged breaths falling in a shaky rhythm. 

chris kisses you, his lips relentless, tongue darting into your mouth, desperate to taste you again. you submit entirely to the will of his mouth, letting him ravish you while your hands roam across his broad chest, simply taking in the sensation of his hot skin under your fingers. 

“chris. please.” you whimper, breaking the kiss, “need you inside.” you rut against him, hoping to get your point across. 

“mm, really?” chris asks, a coy twang to his voice, “why don’t you just bring some other guy up here and have him fuck you?” he sits upwards now, letting his cock rest on top of your pussy and looking down at you with raised eyebrows. 

“because,” you whine, throwing your head backwards into the mattress, hoping a simple ‘because’ will suffice but also knowing it won’t.

as expected, chris merely tilts his head to the side, feigning confusion. “because? use your words, babygirl.” 

you whine in defiance but relent anyway, “nobody’s like you.” and saying it out loud felt like solidifying the statement, carved into stone. nobody’s like chris. 

you might’ve dwelled on it, but chris is smarter than to let you; he pushes his cock inside your aching cunt, making you his all over again — as if you ever were not. the feeling fills you and empties you all at once, a lust laden guilt spreading through your very veins, erupting from your mouth in the most depraved of shrieks. chris winces as you clamp around his cock, sucking the air in through his teeth and stilling himself inside you, letting you both adjust to the sensations. 

“can’t believe you let other guys touch you here,” chris growls, his thumb rubbing tantalising circles around your clit, his eyes meet yours suddenly, his gaze accusing, “did you let them finish inside?” 

you shake your head, “no!” and chris smiles. smiles and retracts his hips from you before slamming back into your heat, throwing his head back as your pussy clamps around him. 

he lets his chest fall against yours, propping himself up with one hand and gripping your waist with the other. “only want. my cum in you.” he says through gritted teeth, thrusting in you with pained restraint, teasing the moans from your throat rather than fucking them straight out of you. 

your sloppy attempts to match the rhythm of his hips is met with a cooing giggle, so cute, he breathes, pressing a kiss into the side of your head. instead of slackening his pace for you, chris only ups the intensity of his bucking hips, stuffing you with his cock over and over and over again until your eyes roll back in your head. 

“want— want chris. cum inside.” you cry out, your ability to form coherent sentences slipping from you the more chris relentlessly fucks you into the bed below. 

chris barely responds, throwing a low moan of approval your way, his own mind awash with the thought of his cum —and only his cum— filling every inch of your pussy. he grins at the thought, peering down at your pleasure-stricken face, watching in fascination as the waves of euphoria sweep over your features. he suddenly pauses his movements, only for a second, before throwing his hips back into you, watching the very shriek that he coaxes out of your mouth.  

“every time you fuck someone else, want you to be only thinking about me.” 

and you nod, you nod your head furiously, yes, yes, yes. he could ask anything of you right now and you’d give him it. you’d pull the stars from the sky if he asked. you wrap your legs around him, handing control of your body over to him and his ruthless rutting, letting him ride you into your sweet release. 

eventually, you collide, your orgasms ripping through your bodies; chris fucks faster and faster, filling you with his cum, spurred on by the string of curses and shrieks you let out as the pleasure surges through every vein in your body. 

after riding out the final waves of his orgasm, chris collapses atop you, breaths ragged and hot against your ear. there’s an uncomfortable stillness suddenly hanging in air, replacing the thick lust that had, until now, clouded your actions. with the desire tinged fog now cleared, you see the situation for what it is and the euphoric high is quickly replaced by devastating shame. 

you wince as chris pulls out of you, more shame dripping from you, staining your thighs, your bed, your very mind. the weight of his body leaves you, exposing your naked, marked body to the empty room; you tug the sheets over your form, shivering at the sudden loss of warmth paired with the dizziness of coming down from such an orgasmic high. chris doesn’t look at you as he tugs his clothes back on, you don’t look at him either.

“text me if you need me again.” 

and you’re certain you will. 

[chunksworld]

Sunkissed

LOONA Choerry x Male Reader | (Tags: Fluff, Smut) | housemate!Choerry

A/N 1: So I ended up finishing this way earlier than expected (thanks to Queendom Choerry and Baseball Choerry). Thank you once again to @kaedewrites for the beta read.

A/N 2: Happy advanced 21st birthday to LOONA's resident sunshine!

---------------------------

“Newton’s law of universal gravitation states that every particle attracts another particle with a force that is directly proportional to their masses. One example of this is the Sun’s centripetal force which keeps all of the planets in the solar system in a circular orbit. The formula for this law is….” 

“Oppa.” A gentle tap on your shoulder; you ignore the disturbance with a light shrug. Your hands mindlessly type away on your laptop while your eyes are focused on the whiteboard filled with numbers, Greek letters, and free body diagrams—who decided to add letters to mathematical equations? The commotion is enough to peel your eyes away from the lecture. Crap, what was the formula again? You can’t miss this one, your physics grade relies upon this stupid, irrelevant equation.

The human embodiment of sunshine sitting beside you is displeased with your lack of response. “Oppa.” The voice is much louder now, with more urgency and a slight hint of annoyance. It becomes harder and harder to ignore but you resist the temptation to give in to her—a great challenge considering her intense gravitational pull on you despite standing at only 163 centimeters tall and weighing so lightly that you can give her a piggyback ride while running at full sprint. Perhaps you could’ve used that formula to explain such a phenomenon.

You can hear her whine, shifting slightly on her seat as she tries her absolute best to make you notice her. From your peripheral vision, you can spot her puffing her cheeks in frustration–you will soon realize why it was a bad idea to ignore her. You attempt to keep your focus on the lecture but this is all for naught as you feel a pinch on your sides, causing you to let out an unbecoming squeak. The professor is fortunately unfazed by this—such shenanigans occur on a weekly basis between you and the woman sitting beside you that it’s anticipated. A brief pause; a clearing of his throat to warn you not to interrupt him ever again, then the disquisition proceeds as normal. Heat rises up to your cheeks as your friends look at you and laugh.

“Choerry, what the hell do you want?” Through gritted teeth you express your annoyance as you finally give her a glimpse, although the sulking expression that she immediately responds with is enough to break down even the Great Wall of China—you’re only a mere mortal after all. Screw this lecture, the sunshine princess deserves your undivided attention. She always gives you her notes anyways.

“C-Can you buy me pads? I forgot to grab some before we left the apartment.”

What the fuck? Pause the typing as you try to process the words that she just uttered; perplexity coursing through your coffee-powered cerebrum. You are befuddled at the fact that her relentless efforts to interrupt your note-taking all boils down to something so elementary. Hold back the urge to curse; such language should not be used in this environment nor towards her–although you’re guilty of snapping at her when your patience and composure has been tested far too often.

“Can’t you wait after class?” You peek at your smartwatch. “There’s like twenty minut-“

“Hnngghhh.” A pout, then a hasty tug on your arm. Disregard your initial reaction, the sun counteracts with a solar flare that renders all forms of communication inside your brain useless. Mission control is out of reach, it’s just you against the largest object in the solar system–a battle you are willing to concede given every opportunity. Fuck, she looks so adorable.

The wordless response might seem nonsensical and trivial to the untrained, but you’ve known her for long enough to decipher what it truly means: her menstrual cycle has begun and therefore she isn’t going to take “no” for an answer. You dare not question such logic—women are already complex enough creatures for you. With a deep sigh, you stuff all of your belongings into your backpack as silently as possible. Good thing you’re sitting adjacent to the hallway so your exit is much less noticeable; the bad thing is that the campus convenience store is a 30-minute walk. 

Will you make the treacherous journey under the blistering summer heat, anyways? Yes, because you will do anything for her. Turn around to give her one last look before you step out; she forms a heart over her head, accompanied with a captivating smile that is enough to quell the remnants of irritation you had inside of you. Ignore how your heart unexpectedly begins to race at supersonic speeds, bury such feelings and hopefully you won’t have to revisit them.

“It’s that time of the month for your girlfriend again, huh?”

You roll your eyes; everyone is really testing your patience today. “For the hundredth time, she’s not my girlfriend.” Hide your identity with a baseball cap and a mask all you want but you’ve been at this particular convenience store so frequently that the cashier can easily recognize you.

“Yeah, because girls just ask their male friends to buy them pads.” He takes the conspicuous pink bag from you and scans it. “You even almost wiped out the snacks section. If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume you’re feeding a crowd.” He then works on scanning the pile of snacks; gummy bears, yogurts, and a cornucopia of whatever candy bars you could find–you refer to it as her “care package.”

“Trust me, you do not want to deal with Choerry when she’s like this.”

“Of course you would know, Choerry’s boyfriend.” The black plastic bag thankfully conceals the contents inside, “Who knows? Maybe you’ll be buying a pack of condoms next time you come around.”

“I’m leaving.” With a heated face, you give him the exact amount before rushing out of the convenience store and making your way back towards your friend. You receive a timely text as you come face-to-face once again with the sweltering weather.

From: Sunshine Princess

“oppa class just finished! meet me outside the girls’ bathroom juseyo ♡ ”

The delivery of the care package was thankfully successful; although once again you had to bear with the weird looks that other students gave you because of how uncomfortable you look standing outside the girls’ bathroom and how her neon purple backpack hangs precariously on your left shoulder. You keep glancing at your smartwatch as if that will result in the passage of time going by much quicker. 

With nothing else to do, you pull out your phone; unlocking the device takes you to a website of a jewelry store, the page is filled with a variety of rings–memories of your desperate searching for the perfect one last night creeps back in. You’re suddenly remembered of the occasion that is approaching way sooner than you would have preferred. Her birthday. You made it a mission to give her a birthday gift that is much better than the previous–a Harry Potter hoodie the first year, an amusement park “friendly date” last year, and a friendship ring this year. Yes, that meant that you had to go through the process of sneakily trying to find her ring size. 

Hours of surfing the internet gave you many suggestions. Ask her friends? No, they’ll definitely tell her–they’re too talkative for their own good. Her parents? No, they already want you to be their son-in-law so this’ll just add fuel to the fire. Guess you’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way and that’s exactly what happened. With a tape measure in hand, you did your best to measure her ring finger during one of the typical Friday movie nights. Batman was on and she ended up falling asleep around the two and a half hour mark due to how long it is–it was the perfect chance. 

Her hands were already intertwined with yours; light snores permeated throughout the living room as the beauty got her rest. Ignore how much you want to pinch her cheeks, how much you want to kiss those lips; wrap the tape around her finger carefully and remember the measurement–a size 7 you would later find out; burn it into your head like the kinematic equations in your physics lecture. A smile much wider than you’d like creeps up your face as you visualize how the ring would look on her that you don’t realize her chin resting on your shoulder. The dark amber & ginger lily perfume she always uses should have been a dead giveaway.

“Whatcha doing there, oppa?” A pair of curious eyes is eager to invade your privacy and if you turned your head just beyond ninety degrees, her lips would’ve made contact with yours. You don’t notice this but she does, as she quickly turns away from you to fan her blazing cheeks.

“Holy sh-” You catch yourself before you end up resorting to profanities, “Y-You can’t just creep up on me like that!” Quickly get rid of the evidence; hide it behind your back. The clock is ticking, you’ve got to purchase a ring as soon as possible.

“W-Why do you look so suspicious anyways? What are you up to, oppa?” She raises her eyebrows, walking towards you slowly–suddenly her 5’3” frame looks intimidating.

Shake your head vigorously as if you’ve just been accused of a crime.“Nothing! Just casually scrolling through my phone like a normal human being.” Mentally facepalm yourself at the poor excuse.

She squints her eyes at you, not buying your statement one bit. “You’ve been acting weird, oppa. You’re making me think you’re planning something for my birthday.”

Panic ensues. “What? No, I’m not. Don’t expect anything.” Give her a flick on the forehead; change the topic before you end up revealing everything. “So, did I miss anything important?”

Thankfully she goes along with it; shrugging her shoulders as she begins to walk. She takes a bite out of a chocolate bar before letting you take one as well—such a gesture would’ve been considered weird years ago but it’s a common sight now. You two share almost everything. “Nah, he just gave out study guides at the end but I saved you a copy so don’t worry!”

A sigh of relief. “I can’t keep leaving class early, you know. Professor is gonna kill me sooner or later.” You hand over her backpack; your shoulders can now finally rest.

“Don’t worry, oppa! I’ll be here to protect you.” She clings to your arm, as the sunshine protector you find it funny imagining her doing the protecting.

“You mean, I will protect you.” You smirk.

She feigns an offended expression, “What? You don’t think I can fend for myself?”

“Says the one who cried because MJ lost her memory and forgot about Spider-Man.”

“Yah!”

---------------------------

The first time you met Choi Yerim–or Choerry as she prefers to be called–was during new student orientation. She just came straight from South Korea then and knew minimal English–resulting in her gravitating towards you since you were the only other Korean in the group. The way her expression brightened when she discovered your shared ethnicity is unrivaled; not even the Sun could inject that much energy into your bloodstream. It was almost blinding, yet you couldn’t stop looking at her sunkissed face. You were drawn to her like a moth to a flame since day one, and you’ve been falling deeper and deeper since then. Not that you’re complaining or anything.

Was it also because she’s Korean? Part of it, yes; but mostly because you’ve never met such a stunning woman that you almost forgot how to speak your native language when you first struck a conversation with her. Even your “annyeonghaseyo” sounded like a lackluster attempt by a foreigner at speaking the language. But in her eyes, you could do no wrong as she kept complimenting your bilingual skills and how you were able to seamlessly adapt to the culture. You never knew how much your face could heat up until then.

There’s just something about Yerim and you couldn’t quite pinpoint it back when you first met her. There’s a bounce in her step; her carefree attitude and easygoing lifestyle is infectious. She radiates a positive aura that makes everyone around her smile. Rainy days didn’t exist for Yerim, you would always see a wide grin on her face or hear her boisterous laugh. She’s the sunshine that illuminates your otherwise monotonous life and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

A relationship of sorts was forged ever since that fateful encounter. You two exchanged numbers and promised to stay in touch; the prospect of making a friend before classes even started was surely the perfect way to kickstart your college journey. Through texts, you discovered more and more about each other. She despises mint chocolate, claiming that one might as well brush their teeth if they want to acquire the taste of that hideous creation. Your love for pineapples on pizza was almost a deal-breaker in the friendship so you promised not to consume any while you were with her.

You agreed to meet up with Yerim again one week before the semester started. She wanted to try authentic burgers so as a courteous friend, you took her to a local diner a couple of miles from where she was staying with her host family. You thought that she would be over the moon considering that she bombarded you with texts about how ecstatic she was to go around town with you but she was oddly silent when you picked her up. Little did you know she was about to drop a bombshell on you.

She kept fiddling with her fingers and avoided any form of eye contact. She was definitely not the same cheerful and upbeat woman that you met so suspicions arose from within you. Did you say something wrong? You didn’t think so; she was so delighted to show off her plushie collection the previous night. She even named her tomato plushie after you because it reminded her of how red your face turned during your first interaction.

“A medium-sized chocolate milkshake with fries for you and a cheeseburger for the lady.” The waitress gives you an extremely cold stare, sending chills down your spine. She probably thinks that Yerim is your girlfriend and that you’re about to break up with her–which is a fair assumption to make considering that she hasn’t uttered a word ever since you entered the establishment.

The silence is dreadful. This is not how it should be. You’re supposed to spend this time bonding with her and yet the only sound that’s occupying the atmosphere is the jukebox playing songs from the 80s. You grab a single piece of french fry and munch on it as you try to rack up your brain trying to come up with a topic but she beats you to it in the most unexpected manner.

“Oppa, I wanna live with you.” 

That single piece of french fry now feels like a lump in your throat. You quickly grab the glass of milkshake and take a huge sip before you start choking in front of her–definitely what you shouldn’t do in front of such an attractive woman. You’re pretty sure that same waitress heard it because she gives you an even weirder look as she wipes the tables nearby. What an icebreaker…

“What did you just say?” Yerim is still avoiding eye contact, looking at everything but you. Suddenly, the black and white checkered floor tile is the most interesting thing on the planet.

“I said I wanna live with you, oppa.” She starts swinging her legs underneath the table–you would later find out that it’s a habit of hers every time she’s nervous or embarrassed about something.

“I-I’m sorry did I miss something from our conversation last night? Where in the world did that come from?” You take a proper sip of the chocolate milkshake this time.

She finally looks at you, her eyes showing pity and hopelessness–like an abandoned puppy on the side of the road; you almost wanted to just give in. “I wanted to tell you in-person. It would be rude of me to bring up an important topic over the phone.”

More questions flood your brain. “But why? I thought you’re already living with your host family?”

“I am, but…”

“But?”

“They’re kicking me out. Apparently they changed their minds at the very last minute so they’re giving me until the end of next week to move out.” A pout begins to form on her lips; that very same pout made you agree with plenty of her ridiculous plans including this one.

“Oh…” That was all you could respond with as she ultimately reveals the reason behind such a proposal.

She can sense your dilemma. “Yes, I know I know. You’re a guy and I’m a girl. But I won’t make it awkward I promise. Only if you don’t make it awkward.” How can it not be awkward? Curse yourself for the devious scenarios your mind quickly made up at the thought of sharing an apartment with her.

“No! I-I can’t! Can’t you just find another apartment? I can help you find a good one.” You reason, “If that doesn’t work then I….” You take a deep breath. “I’ll let you stay with me for the meantime.”

“It’s a hassle! I literally just arrived in this country like two months ago so I can’t live by myself yet.” She’s right, absolutely right. Living by yourself already terrifies you but the thought of doing it in another country is almost hell. No counterarguments, but you didn’t want to seem like someone that’s easily persuaded so you said:

“I’ll have to think about it.”

Life was again restored behind her eyes; she’s back to being Yerim. Overflowing with joy, she runs over to sit beside you and gives you the tightest hug you ever received at that time.

“Thank you so much, oppa! That’s a yes in my book. You won’t regret it.”

It was extremely awkward; especially when you explained the proposed living arrangement to your parents. They could only look at you in horror with every word that came out of your mouth. It was already difficult enough to convince them to let you live by yourself but with the added stipulation that you will be living under the same roof with a woman is just salt on the wound. They almost disowned you but thankfully that crisis was averted.

Yerim’s parents, on the other hand, were unexpectedly calm as you explained everything over the phone–only because they thought that you were her boyfriend and you spoke in such a respectful and collected manner that they were instantly reassured that their eldest daughter will be safe under your supervision. You didn’t have the heart to tell them that you were just her friend–also because she kept kicking you under the table that your shin was almost bruised when the call ended. 

“Oppa, it’ll be so cool once we finally live in the same apartment! Just imagine all of the fun things that we could do together!” She happily pulls on your arms, like a kid begging to be taken to a candy shop. Yes. Choi Yerim is a clingy, adorable embodiment of sunshine and she’s going to be the cause of your death one day. Ignore how you can hear everyone in the vicinity whisper amongst themselves about how wholesome you two look as a couple.

Lower your head down and your voice so as to not attract any more unwanted attention. “Choerry, you gotta know how weird that sounds.”

“What do you mean, oppa? I was talking about baking cookies and oh! I also heard they’ve got great pizzas here. Maybe we could have a pizza date one day!” She told you that she’s an ENFP and you could clearly see it. She oozes with so much energy that you don’t know if it ever runs out.

“I know, but still….”

A cough interrupts the conversation. “Listen you lovebirds, are you gonna sign the contract or not? I don’t have all day.”

“S-sorry ma’am.” You both say in unison.

Living with Yerim is not actually as terrible as you expected it to be. She doesn’t nag you to take the laundry out of the dryer days after like your mom does; instead she just places them on your bed–even folding them neatly sometimes. You two came up with a cleaning schedule on the first day but it quickly flew out of the window because she would insist on cleaning up even when it’s your turn. As the “man of the house”, you’re in charge of the basic stuff like making sure the sink works–an easy task you thought until you ended up breaking a pipe and you had to call a plumber to fix it; she never lets you hear the end of it.

You started to pick up on her habits and preferences as time went on. How she likes to mess around with her hair; how she prefers tea over coffee–matcha tea specifically; how obsessed she is with Harry Potter–she even made you go on a movie marathon with her that lasted until 5PM the next day; how she hates cherries although it sounds extremely similar to her nickname. It reached a point where you knew more about her than her parents—she even made you her emergency contact.

She is absolutely terrified of spiders. A blood-curdling scream from Yerim jolted you from a peaceful nap one time and when you rushed to her room thinking that something had gone horribly wrong, you spotted her cowering in the corner. Pillows were thrown in every direction as she relentlessly tried to kill the harmless creature. Well, to you it was harmless. Needless to say, you spent an hour of your day finding the culprit because she would not go back to her room until the threat has been exterminated; and another hour calming her down by buying her favorite cotton candy ice cream.

“Aww, you actually remembered what ice cream I liked, oppa!” She takes the small tub of decadent dessert from you and digs in immediately. 

You raise an eyebrow in amusement. It’s amazing how her mood can just do a complete one-eighty. “Weren’t you crying like a baby thirty minutes ago?”

“That’s all in the past now, so hush.” She sticks a tongue out at you teasingly, her eyes still misty from the tears shed.

Thunders are a different issue though. No horror movie-like shouts from her. Instead, she would knock on your door in the middle of the night in her yellow pajamas and pink crocs, timidly asking to sleep next to you. Was it weird at first? Sure, sleeping on the same bed with someone of the opposite gender in a platonic manner at your age is definitely a rare sight. But you eventually got used to it over the years. So much so that she doesn’t even bother knocking on your door anymore. You would just wake up to her snuggling up to you like a koala, her favorite cherry scented shampoo infiltrating your senses first thing in the morning.

“Choerry, you’re so heavy. Move.” You groan, hands quickly trying to remove the ball of sunshine resting on your chest before it burns you.

She gasps at your statement, head looking up at you in shock. “Did you just call me heavy, oppa?!”

Crap, you’ve broken the cardinal rule when it comes to talking to women. “Uh…”

“Hmph! I’m not getting off of you until you apologize!” It’s not like you want her to get off of you, anyways. Deep down, you want to sleep with her next to you every night. Not in a sexual way or anything, you just want to cuddle her until the end of time. You just pray to the gods she doesn’t hear your heart almost beating out of your chest every time it happens though.

“No.” You grab her cheeks and squish them instead, causing her to whine even more.

“Oppa!” ---------------------------

“So let me get this straight. You bought Choerry a ring for her birthday?” 

Take the pearl ring out of the box–you decided on pearl because it’s her birthstone, hold it up in adoration; imagine how it would look on her ring finger. Picture the unbridled satisfaction on her face. Maybe she pulls you into another tight hug, maybe she kisses you instead–Wait, what?  Shake your head, you shouldn’t be having such thoughts.

The slamming of a locker door shut breaks your train of thought. “You good man?”

“Huh, what? Yeah. Do you think she’ll like it?” Put the ring away before continuing to dry your hair with a towel.

“Why are you even asking me that? Of course she will! Tell me one thing you gifted her that she didn’t like.” You couldn’t; Yerim treasures every birthday and Christmas gift that you have given her.  

“I don’t know man, I rarely see her wear rings. What if I just ended up spending $200 for nothing?” It seems almost stupid for you to regret buying her a ring when you painstakingly went through the process of getting her one and yet here you are.

A wet towel is thrown at your face; you retaliate by throwing your own at your friend. “Who told you to buy her a freaking ring anyways? Are you gonna propose to her or what?”

“Can’t friends buy each other rings? I just want her to know how much I appreciate her.”

Laughter echoes throughout the locker room. “That’s a very complicated way of saying that you like her if you ask me.”

“What’s up with you guys always saying that I like her? Give me proof.”

“The way you look at her. That’s it.”

“The way I look?”

“Yeah, you look at her as if she’s the most precious thing on the planet.”

That’s because she is–though that’s not something you’ll ever admit to anyone, even yourself. “You’re overanalyzing this. How’s it going with Heejin anyway? Have you finally taken her out to an actual date or did you guys end up hooking up again?”

“Don’t change the topic! Heejin and I are doing just fine. At least I actually acknowledge her as my girlfriend.” A sigh of defeat, every conversation with your friends always ends up in the same manner; with them teasing you unforgivingly. Are they even your friends?

“Choerry’s not my girl.” Sling the duffle bag over your shoulders as you follow your friend out of the locker room. Give your teammates a fist bump as you begin heading out of the gym.

“I know you’re just saying that because you’re trying to be nice. And I mean, it’s great and all.” A reassuring pat on your shoulder. “But you know what would be the best thing to do for her as a friend? Ask her out. Not all of the other dudes have pure intentions with her, you know.”

“I can’t control who she chooses to date. I can only give advice on the sidelines but that’s about it.” Pick up a loose basketball and throw it back onto the court. “Anything other than that, then I’m overstepping my role. I don’t wanna do that to her, man. She means so much to me.”

“I know how much she means to you. Remember when she got too drunk during homecoming last year? I’ve never seen you that angry. I thought you were gonna kill someone.”

Ears redden as you relive the memory of that extremely embarrassing night. You pretty much spent the next day apologizing to Yerim even though she insisted that you didn’t need to. “And what’s your point?”

‘What if she gets a boyfriend? Would you be comfortable being the number two guy? Would you still be comfortable living with her?”

“Listen, I’m not gonna worry about shit that hasn’t happened yet….” A very familiar figure awaits by the doors and if her blinding smile isn’t a dead giveaway, then you don’t know what is.

“Hey, I’m just saying.”

“Hi there, oppa!” Yerim waves at you from a distance, her smile captivating you despite having witnessed it hundreds of times. Again, you ignore the way she makes your heart race. Give your friend a fist bump to bid him farewell before walking towards her. She gives him a smile that’s just as bright–you wish she would only show that to you.

You try to match her energy, though you fail miserably. You settle for a small wave instead. “Oh, Choerry? What are you doing here? I thought you went out with the girls.”

“Yeah, but then they decided to go to a bar so I excused myself. I know how pissed off you can get when I come back home drunk.” Your heart sinks. Have you perhaps been too protective of her?

“You’re a grown woman, you know. You can do whatever you want.” She intertwines her hand with yours. Strong and firm hands engulfs her soft and delicate ones–internal squealing from her because of how safe and secure they make her feel.

“Yes, and I choose to be with you oppa. I prefer your company over theirs, anyways.” Feel the soothing squeeze on your hand, your cheeks heating despite the cool night time wind. The stars have already ordained you as her protector—are you even worthy of such an important position?

“No offense to them or anything.” She adds, then a laugh; only she can send you into a frenzy–whether it be through her words or her actions.

“Why though? it’s not like I’m your boyfriend or anything.” Whisper to nobody, even though the intended recipient should have been Yerim. Why can’t you say those words to her?

Your words float away like dust in the wind. She tucks her hair behind her ear as if that was the reason she couldn’t hear you. “What was that, oppa?”

Dismiss the previous statement. “Oh nothing! Let’s just go home.” You reach over to ruffle her hair; a lighthearted laugh as she hopelessly seeks to reciprocate your action.

“Not fair! You don’t think I can do the same just because you’re so freaking tall?”

You smirk. “I’d like to see you try.”

She stands on the tips of her toes, closing the gap between the two of you as her hands reach up towards your hair. Grunts and whines as she inadequately attempts to accomplish said task. Meanwhile the engine that is your brain overheats at the close proximity of her face to yours–especially those lips. Those damned lips–rosy, full, and tempting. Is she done yet? You get your answer in an instant as you feel her fingers comb through your locks.

Balance is restored; her hands finding refuge in yours again. “Ha! I did it! I told you I can do it, oppa.” A celebratory shuffle, showing off her dancing skills.

Pinch her cheeks. “I didn’t say you couldn’t.”

“Just admit you were wrong, oppa!”

You yawn, the intense basketball practice leaving you tired and your muscles aching. “Fine, fine you win.” Pull her closer towards you; she squeals–you think it’s because she won the argument but it’s actually because she likes how good you smell after taking a shower. She’ll never admit that, however.

“Now can we actually go home? I wanna sleep already.” Stretch your free arm out.

“Hnngh it’s still so early! How about just one movie please?”

“Tomorrow.”

Yerim is about to argue but she can see how tired your eyes look. She just nods instead as she wraps an arm around yours. It didn’t take her long to start talking about how her day went–it also didn’t take you long to start smiling like an idiot seeing her so happy. The universe be damned if anyone dares to remove the beautiful smile off of her face. 

But through it all, a single question reigns supreme in your head as you revel in the peaceful walk home.

What if you do like her?

---------------------------

“Come on, Jungeun unnie! No cheating!”

“What’s the problem? You went to the bathroom so I went ahead and took my turn.”

‘I’m not gonna let it slide the next time it happens, unnie.”

“Whatever you say, birthday girl.”

“Unnie!”

A red plastic cup filled with a concoction that’s enough to awaken all five of your senses is presented in front of you. “Just ask her out already, man. It’s painful seeing you like this.”

You grab it anyways; take a whiff and you almost unload everything you ate beforehand, “What the fuck did you put in here?”

“Vodka, tequila, orange juice, and some leftover soju from your fridge.”

“You trying to get me blacked out or what?”

“I’m trying to get you to chill the fuck out. You look so damn stressed the entire night. She’s gonna like your gift, trust me.”

“Not drinking tonight, man. Gotta look out for Choerry.”

That’s all your friend needed to hear before finishing the entire cup in one go. “What a nice and caring boyfriend you are.” 

“I’m not–”

“Yeah yeah, I know. I’m gonna have to cut my fucking ears off if you say it one more time.”

Revert your gaze back to the birthday girl; a very fierce game of pop-up pirate bringing out her competitiveness–another side of hers that you like. Another question floats in your head as you inadvertently stare at her: what if you were her boyfriend? Surely no one would oppose that right? Your friends already ship you two like characters in a Korean drama. Your parents are extremely fond of her; that might have to do with the fact that she always comes with you every time you visit them for Chuseok–cooking vegetable pancakes for them. And more importantly, her parents already consider you as such in the very first place. So what’s holding you back?

“You know what? It would be nice if she was my girlfriend. Just so that all of you can finally shut the fuck up about it.”

An amused smirk from your friend. “Sure, dude. That is definitely the reason why you’re considering it now.”

“Yeah, because what else would it be?” Grab a ping pong ball and throw it at him. “Ready to lose in another round of beer pong?”

The rest of the party went smoothly–except for the fact that you lost almost $50 due to how terrible you are at beer pong. At the very end, Yerim gave a speech on how thankful she is to everyone for coming to her birthday party; tears streamed down her face and although you knew it was because of how over the moon she was, you still couldn’t help but feel as if your heart had just been crushed. Is that why you ill-advisedly walked towards her and gave her a comforting hug? Yes, which resulted in thunderous cheers from your friends and a wide smile from you. Miss how her heart was pounding like crazy as you enveloped her in a tight embrace.

You wanted to rent out a space for the special occasion but she refused, insisting that all she needs is good company to make her 21st birthday special so your two-bedroom apartment became the venue instead. Thankfully it was spacious enough to fit twenty people although with how popular she is, gifts upon gifts flooded your living room–you’d think she was an idol with how many she received. There is one gift that isn’t there, however: yours. You knew better than to give the pearl ring to her during the party because you will never hear the end of it for months, maybe even years.

Yerim knows this as well which is why she has a wide grin plastered on her face as she helped you clean up the apartment in the wake of her party. Great. More pressure on you to deliver because of how you’re making her wait at the very last minute. She hums happily as she walks around the living room with a trash bag in hand to clean up the mess. Due to how excited she is, you two cleaned up your apartment in record time; and before you knew it, you two were sitting on the couch with her looking at you expectantly.

“I wonder what you got me this year, oppa.” Your palms have never been this sweaty; not even when you had to do a presentation on a physics topic you literally just googled the night before.

“We went to Disneyland last year……” You can see the gears in her brain turning. It takes her a few seconds before she reaches a conclusion–although it’s an inaccurate one. “Oh! Are we gonna go to King’s Cross Station in London? I always wanted to see Station 9 ¾ in-person.” A true Harry Potter fan, indeed. Maybe next year, when you’ve finally made enough money as an engineer; you do want to travel around the world with her.

“No, but I hope you also like it.” Pull the red box out of your back pocket and before you could even say anything, tears begin to well up in her eyes again. Fuck, does she hate it that much?

“S-Sorry, I’ll get you a better gift.” You’re about to put it away but a hand stops you.

“No, oppa! I like it, I really do. I-I’m just so overwhelmed right now.” She sniffles and you bring a hand up to wipe some of the tears away. You then proceed with opening the box, the pearl ring shining ever so dazzlingly and she looks at you in awe.

“Thank you so much for being my housemate all of these years.” You take the ring out of the box and grab her right hand, sliding the jewelry carefully on her ring finger. “And more importantly, for being my friend.” Perfect. It looks just as amazing on her as you imagined; maybe even better.

“Happy birthday, Yerimmie.” A moniker that you rarely use is enough to get her heart bursting into overwhelming joy. She’s crying like a baby at this point and the response you expected from her is a hug or maybe a light slap on the arm for making her cry when she already did so earlier.

Mwah.

But a kiss on your cheek was never on the table. How did she get so close to you so quickly? She pulls away and the tears on her face have been replaced with an unabashed smile; none of it makes any sense to you. What the fuck is going on? “Thank you, oppa. For always being there for me. For being my protector. I couldn’t ask for a better person to be my friend.”

And as if she’s only now realizing what she did, Yerim quickly stands up and runs to her room. “G-Good night, oppa! Thank you for the gift, see you tomorrow morning!”

Again, what the fuck?

The interaction leaves you with a plethora of unanswered questions and a heart that’s beating way too fast for your liking. You wanted to knock on her door and have her explain what she just did but you didn’t even know what to say. Worry about the implications of what just transpired tomorrow; cooler heads may prevail. You can’t talk to her while your confused heart and mind is causing the engine that is your brain to overheat once again.

Toss and turn. Toss and turn. Not even taking a cold shower could help you sleep. All your monkey brain could think about is how soft Yerim’s lips felt on your cheek, and how you lowkey wished that she did it to your own lips instead. What did that kiss mean anyways? You could ask your friends for advice but you know it will just devolve to them ruthlessly teasing you. She did say that she was just overwhelmed. But do friends just kiss each other on the cheek like that?

Boom. Clap. An all-too-familiar sound emanates from the night sky, followed by the pitter-pattering of rain droplets on your windows. You already know what’s about to happen next. In response, you hear a creak that can only be made by the opening of a door. Light footsteps gradually increase in volume, and a few seconds later: Knock. Knock. Knock.

Open the door for your housemate; it’s been a while since you’ve actually seen her enter the room–you were never awake for such late night occurrences. Sunshine counters the gloomy weather outside. “Thunder again?” A bashful nod from the birthday girl. Yellow pajamas have been replaced by a white tee and sleep short; the pink crocs are still there, however.

Hips.

Thighs.

Choi Yerim.

Ignore how your eyes immediately dart towards two very particular parts of her body. Make space on your bed, scoot to the side. She avoids eye contact with you—flashbacks to when she first asked you if she could live with you. Thankfully she still accepts your cuddles as she lays down next to you, burying her face on your chest as you caress her hair.

She’s here with you now. Do you dare bring up the elephant in the room? No, she could be tired. It’s been a fun but exhausting day. Plus, you didn’t want to ask burning questions on her birthday—that would be a stupid decision. Or is it? Fuck it, you know you won’t be able to sleep without getting some sort of closure.

“Listen, about the kiss-“

And just like when you took her to a diner for the very first time, she breaks the silence in the most unexpected manner.

“Oppa, I want you to take my virginity.”

“What the fuck– I mean what?” She’s thrown some haymakers at you but the intensity of this one couldn’t even prevent you from cursing.

She breaks the cuddle and looks at you with pleading eyes–something you’ve never seen before. “I said I want you to take my virginity, oppa….”

Raise your voice. “D-Do you realize what you’re saying!?” You don’t know if she’s pulling your leg or not but this is a serious matter. 

Her voice is firm and adamant. “I do! I’m a grown woman like you always say. And-and, I always feel something poking me every time we cuddle.”

Fuck, she noticed that?

Your monkey brain tells you to accept the offer but you know better; you can’t think with your dick or you’re going to suffer from the consequences. “Save it for your boyfriend!”

Another response from her blows you away. “What if I said I wanted you to be my boyfriend?”

“Choerry, I-”

“I like you, oppa. I wasn’t planning on confessing but your friends kept telling me how much you liked me as well so I gave it a shot.” Those motherfuckers! 

“And then this ring that you gave me.” Yerim holds it up in the air, “You could have just asked me out instead of spending money to buy me this ring, you know?” A peck on your cheeks–guess you’re going to have to get used to it soon. “I mean who just buys their friend a ring? Tsk. Tsk. You still have a long way when it comes to being smooth, oppa.”

Listening to her rant made you realize that you indeed like her. The times when you went above and beyond for her. The times when she made your heart race like no other. The times when she made you smile and laugh. The times you realized that your life is empty without sunshine. No use lying to her, she’ll be able to see through it anyways. “Yes, Choerry. I like you.” Stare at her as if she’s the most precious thing to ever exist–your friend was right after all.

There’s no alcohol in your system but her alluring scent is enough to intoxicate you. Perhaps you’ve found a new addiction, one that you hope you’ll never recover from. A kiss on the forehead, down to her nose, then finally to her lips. The countless instances you’ve shamefully dreamt of those succulent lips pressed on yours finally come to fruition; take your time, such delicacy should be treated with the utmost respect. Pull away to catch your breath, then engage in another kiss; you repeat this process like clockwork. You can’t get enough of her, each kiss only serving to draw you closer and closer to her orbit. Fuck, how come you’re now only realizing how tantalizing Yerim is?

The intensity of the kiss caused her lips to bruise just a tad. Feeling apologetic, you swipe a finger across her lips; the sting causes her to hiss. “You’re so beautiful, Choerry.” Your compliment only serves to increase the intense glow of her sunshine; nothing can get the butterflies stirring in her stomach more than hearing those words from you. You indulge in the sinful sounds coming out of her mouth as you run your hands down her luscious thighs–what a wonderful day for her to be wearing shorts.

“Yes please, oppa…” Shivers running down her spine as your cold fingers make contact with her sunkissed skin.

Yerim gazes at you with those shimmering, starry eyes of hers and although this isn’t the first time you’ve seen them up close, they seem to be glowing much stronger than usual. It’s abundantly clear that she wants you just as much as you want her; and tonight, nothing is going to get in the way of that. You reach a hand out to carefully brush her bangs aside, planting a kiss on her cheek. “I’m gonna ask you for the final time, are you sure?” The other hand latches on to the hem of her shirt; desperate to feel more of her, to see more of her.

For a brief moment, you see a shy smile. You two are about to cross the line between housemates and lovers and there is no going back. Yerim nods, a determined expression painting her face. “I want you, oppa.” A kiss on your cheek as she places her hands on top of yours, guiding you to pull her white tee over her head. Your jaw instinctively drops at the wonderful sight in front of you. Her body shaped like an hourglass amazes you to no end; your eyes tracing where your lips would go. There were so many options and you wanted to feast on her like it’s a buffet. Every passing second leads to your self-control withering but you know better to take it slow and steady with her; she deserves that level of respect, that level of attention to detail. She’s Choi Yerim after all; a sunshine, your sunshine.

“Fuck Choerry, you’re so hot.” Words you never expected to say to your housemate of three years; but then again, you never expected the two of you to be engaging in such activities on your bed—on her birthday nonetheless. Enough pondering, the woman in front of you is starting to become as needy as you are.

Before your intense gaze melts her into a putty, she reaches for your tank top. “I-I want to see you, too.” Her wish is your command and in a blink of an eye, you join her in being topless. She licks her lips unconsciously at the view in front of her. You dive in for another kiss, your hands traveling around her body. From her collarbones down to her stomach, each scalding contact with her porcelain skin leads to you wanting for more. Her gravitational pull on you only strengthens and you may have reached the point of no return.

Tonight is her night so you wanted to take the initiative; although you’re just as inexperienced as her. Break the kiss as you stare into her eyes, searching for any hints of uncertainty and doubt. Investigate further and you discover none. If anything you’re the one that’s nervous. What if you mess it up? What if you ruin sex forever for her— on her birthday nonetheless? What if yo- 

A poke on your cheek, a smile adorning her features. “Oppa, you’re spacing out.” Then a kiss, reassuring you that she trusts you and that everything will be just fine. Message received, you chuckle and nod. Even in your most intimate moments, you still find time to look after each other. You reach down towards her sleep shorts, blindly searching for the knot while you stare at her as if she’s the most precious thing to ever exist. 

Unfurl it, the removal of her shorts revealing more skin for you to feast your eyes on. Not wanting to be the only one left in her undergarments, she reaches for your drawstring shorts and that comes off as well—your bulge pitching a tent in your boxers. Lean back to fully appreciate the sight in front of you, Yerim only in her bra and panties; a stark contrast to the yellow pajamas that she would wear when she sleeps next to you—all of the times you’ve undressed her in your mind also finally comes to fruition.

Don’t waste anymore time; your fingers fiddle with the straps of her bra. If her eyes tell you anything, the answer is a definite yes. “Can I take this off?” But you ask her anyway, because the last thing you want is to go against her wishes. Yerim nods and in one swift move, you unclasp her bra. Her hands immediately cover her breasts before you could even get the chance to see them. You still have plenty of ground to cover.

“S-Sorry, oppa. They’re not as big as other gir-” Shut her up with a kiss, it’s fortunately enough to distract her as you remove her hands to reveal her petite breasts. Not too big, not too small. Just the right size to fit nicely into your palm.

“They’re perfect for me.” Another heart fluttering statement from you causing her to swoon—this can’t be good for her health. Knead her breasts gently while you trail kisses down to her jaw and then her neck; drawing more moans out of her. Pleasure surges through her body with every action of yours and her hands grip your bed sheets ever so firmly.

Leave more kisses as you reach her cleavage; Yerim closes her eyes in anticipation. Cute. It would be rude to keep a lady waiting so you leaned in to capture a breast in your mouth. You can hear her audibly gasp, her hands clutching your hair securely. Switch between the two breasts to give both equal attention. You would gladly continue gorging on her nubs but a much better meal is waiting just a few feet away. Continue your journey southward until you reach her panties, already soaked in her juices. Another nod of confirmation from her as you grab on the waistband and pull it down her legs.

Your rod throbs deliciously at the sight; Yerim in her most unsullied and barest all just for you to see—you truly are the luckiest man on earth. As expected, she attempts to close her legs but you place a hand on her thighs to prevent her from doing so. Plant another kiss on her lips to tell her that everything is going to be just fine.

“Don’t stare, oppa.” Heat rushes up to her cheeks, her breasts which have been covered by your saliva glistening heaves delectably.

Place a pillow behind her so that she’s in a comfortable position. “So beautiful, so wet for me…” You urge her to move further up the bed which she thankfully does. With both of your hands, you spread her legs wide and begin trailing kisses towards her inner thighs. Yerim closes her eyes once again; a sign that she’s letting you explore her.

That’s the green light that you needed as a curious tongue licks her folds, the first swipe sends electricity down her spine as her back arches off of the bed. Repeat this action one time, two times, three times. She tastes so good that one serving isn’t enough to satisfy you. It’s a struggle to keep her thighs spread open but you don’t mind getting your head crushed by them, anyways. Satisfied sounds spill out of her mouth uncontrollably as she grips the bedsheet so tightly they might rip.

Years of watching porn enables you to find her clit relatively quickly and as soon as your lips latch onto them, she releases a moan that is so sweet, so addicting to the ears. Her hands have now changed their target to your scalp, the adrenaline causing you to not feel the pain as her nails dig into them. Sixty seconds you counted before the pleasure spikes, causing her toes to curl and for her to loudly shout your name in the most seductive manner. Her juices have now completely drenched a spot on your bed as you pulled away just in time to witness the spectacle.

Give her all the time she needs to recollect herself; remind yourself that tonight is her night and that your own pleasure comes second. Crawl back up towards her and engage in another liplock, letting her taste herself. “You did good, Choerry. So good for me.” She blushes at your compliment but you don’t miss the sneaky hand that’s already trying to get rid of your underwear as her breathing returns to normal.

“What are you planning, Miss Choi Yerim?” She helps you shimmy out of your boxers as your rod is finally released from its confines. She gulps at the size, wondering how it’s going to fit inside of her. She had a plan but she doesn’t know whether it would be wise–she’s still a virgin after all. You could see the hesitation in her eyes but you wanted her to know that you’re just as nervous about this entire thing as her so you give her hand a gentle squeeze.  

That gesture is enough for Yerim to muster some courage.“O-oppa.” Her eyes continue to stare at your length and you don’t know whether to be proud or to be shy.

“Hmm?” Smile as you place a kiss on her forehead.

“I-I wanna ride you.” Ignore how your cock throbs even harder at the request, just imagining her bouncing on your length is enough to drive up your lust to an entirely new level. You don’t have the time to be embarassed by how quickly you moved towards the headboard because Yerim is already straddling your thighs, ready for penetration. Give your shaft two quick pumps and an extensive amount of precum dribbles out. She places both of her hands on your shoulders as she slowly and carefully impales herself on you.

Yerim is tight, so pleasurably tight. You lean your head back in pleasure as her wet cavern welcomes a foreign object inside of it for the very first time. You can’t control the groans and moans coming out of your mouth and neither can Yerim. As if you can read each other’s mind, you two resort into kissing to relieve the combination of pain and pleasure that your first sexual encounter brings you. 

Rest your hands on her creamy and fleshy butt as your length is finally pushed all of the way inside of her. “O-Oppa, you’re so big!” Your heart swells with pride at her proclamation but you also know that means that you have plenty of work to do to make her feel comfortable.

“Take your time, I’m just here.” She reaches out for your hands and clasps them with hers as she begins to bounce at a torturously slow pace. The sight alone of Yerim in pure ecstasy tempts you to ejaculate much faster than you’d prefer but you know better to hold on for dear life–even if her stifling warmth invites you to just explode inside of her. You can only experience so much satisfaction as a virgin.

Her beautiful moans continue to fill the room and soon enough, Yerim’s pace quickens and she’s now bouncing with intent and determination. Her breathing is now more hurried with your name coming out in broken sentences. You quickly realize what’s happening so you grab onto her waist as you begin thrusting upwards, aiding her in reaching her first ever orgasm. 

“O-Oppa, I think I’m gonna—” This doesn’t last long however as the pleasure is too much for her to stay upright so she leans forward, burying her face on your shoulder while her breasts press themselves on your chest. This presents you with an even better opportunity; you wrap your arms around Yerim while you plant your feet onto the mattress.

“Just hold on to me tight, okay? You whisper to her ear and as soon as you can feel her nod her head, you begin to thrust at a frantic rate–desperate to feel her clench around your length with a mindblowing orgasm. The position allows her to moan directly into your ears and for you to feel her hot, labored breathing; the combination of the two might cause you to join in on her peak.

“N-No condom, I-I think I should pull out.” She needs to respond quickly as each thrust just edges you closer and closer to what could be the biggest orgasm you’re going to ever have.

“I-I’m safe today, oppa. Please fill me!” Her moans continue to flood your ears as your length floods her with your seed, each guttural groan delivering a thick spurt of your sperm deep inside of her. Your orgasm seemed to go on for forever; a sign of how much she turns you on. You’re so engrossed in the mind blowing pleasure that you don’t realize that you came first; it doesn’t matter because she follows you shortly after–this orgasm somehow ended up becoming more intense than her first one. Whisper sweet nothings in her ear as you both come down from the dizzyingly high.

Roll her over to the bed so that she’s laying on it once again; work quickly on getting her a towel and a small water bottle. Yerim is so exhausted that the only thing she can do is mutter a small “thanks” as she drinks the entire bottle in one go. As the nice and caring boyfriend that you are, you take the towel and use it to wipe off the sweat from her body; all while telling her how beautiful and stunning she is–she’s going to have to get used to your cheesiness.

You smile at the first words she utters as you tuck her inside the blanket. “I…love…you…so…much...oppa.” Sleep eventually overtakes her tired body; her breathing falling into a rhythmic state. You press a gentle kiss on her forehead as you try to fix her bangs. Then another one on her lips for good measure.

Despite the full moon asserting its dominance in the clear night sky, the sunkissed glow of your housemate shines brighter than any other star in the galaxy, nay the universe.

“I love you too, Choerry.”

[sagau-my-beloved]

Oh my god, your writing??? It's so good??? How come I only came across these gems today? Either way, I'm glad I ended up finding your blog.

If you have time, could I request something similar to the post where Venti finds his way to our world, but with either Ei or Zhongli, please?

A New and Foreign Arrangement

Ahhh thank you so much! I like your writing a lot too!!!

Decided to do good old Zhongli for this, also it occurred to me halfway through writing that you might have actually meant the headcanons and not the drabble, so if I wrote the wrong thing please let me know and I can totally do the other—

Warnings: general sagau, that's pretty much it he's pretty tame

-

Zhongli was patient.

He had to be, patience and precision were of the utmost importance when it came to his responsibilities.

So to find himself here, begging so sincerely, offering everything at his disposal for just one chance to see you...

Well, Albedo couldn't very well decline.

And now you were standing in your living room, sitting in complete silence with a quite nervous Zhongli, who had just walked into your house through a very fancy looking door, which appeared and then disappeared shortly after.

There was no mistaking it as him, the dark hair which faded into a soft amber, the same golden eyes which refused to give away anything he was thinking.

If you did somehow have the ability to read his thoughts however, you would find that they were only full of you, so desperately trying to mentally will you to say anything at all.

"So..." You finally spoke, trailing off into another muted silence as he looked directly at you, urging you to say more, pleading desperately with out saying a word.

You took a second to clear your throat before continuing, "You're... here then? Uh, if you don't mind my asking, how exactly?"

You felt something inside you die at the awkwardness in the room, but it was very difficult to even form coherent thoughts when a six thousand year old God was sitting right in front of you, looking no less nervous than someone applying for a job interview they didn't have the qualifications for.

Zhongli straightened himself, sitting up in a poised and proper manner that was all too expected.

"I'm sorry for the sudden intrusion, I just..."

He trailed off for a second, seemingly pondering what all exactly he wanted to reveal.

"You're needed in Teyvat. It would be cruel to deprive your world of your presence for much longer. So, I came to get you."

Deprive your world?

"I'm sorry," you started, shifting your weight as you tried to look away from his incredibly beautiful but serious eyes, "This is all very confusing, but I'm not sure you have the right person—"

"Nonsense." Zhongli cut you off, he was now sitting on the edge of his seat, seemingly holding himself back from standing.

He let out a breath as your eyes went wide, reeling himself back from the sudden intrusion and calming his voice a bit as he spoke his next words.

"You're the creator of Teyvat, the God above all Gods, there is no way I could mistake anybody else for you."

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, as if he fully believed what he was saying.

"Zhongli..."

He perked up at his name, of course you knew it, but hearing you say it like that almost caused him to shiver.

"I can't... I'm not..." You couldn't finish what you were saying, feeling a weight tugging at your heartstrings at the thought of denying him what he was so dead set on believing.

This time Zhongli did stand.

He paced for a moment, resting his chin on his hand as he went back and forth in deep thought, seemingly pondering something important.

"This won't do, to bring you back when you don't believe your own status, to subject your people to that type of uncertainty from their own God..."

You almost felt the need to apologize, as if it was your fault that you didn't meet his expectations.

He looked over at you for a second, seemingly sensing exactly what you were thinking and he waved his head a moment, as if clearing his thoughts.

"None of that is your fault of course, it would be quite unfair of me to put that responsibility on you, so allow me to shoulder it myself."

You paused for a moment, trying to understand exactly what he was implying. Did that mean that he would be leaving you here and take on what he considered to be 'your' responsibilities himself?

"If you'll allow it, it seems I must simply have to stay here and convince you."

You froze, there was a soft smile playing on his lips at the statement, as if it wasn't as much something that he was resigning himself to, but actively seeking out, wanting even.

"Are you asking if you can stay in my house?"

The confidence that was present on his face only a moment ago seemed to falter slightly.

Was that not something you wanted? Was he overstepping his boundaries by even asking?

"Ah, well, when you put it like that—"

"Ok."

You could barely register what you had just said.

Did you just agree to let a multi-thousand year old video game character Archon stay at your house, for who knows how long, while he tries to convince you that, you too, are a God?

It seemed as though that was exactly what you agreed to because Zhongli immediately grabbed your hand into his and thanked you.

"I won't make you regret it, I promise not to cause you any trouble."

His voice was incredibly calm, but you could feel his hands shaking slightly as they held yours.

He felt the urge to thank you properly, to kneel down and fully convey exactly how happy he was, to provide you with luxurious the average person could only dream of ever laying eyes upon. But the fact of the matter was, he was alone in a strangers house with not a penny to his name, in this world at least.

Of course, as he never really thought about currency as is, so the latter part of that statement would evade him for a bit longer.

"Would you allow me to treat you to dinner?"

You didn't particularly want to tell him that if he went out looking the way that he did, he would be recognized rather quickly as 'Zhongli the Geo Archon' from the widely popular game Genshin Impact, so you instead evaded the question.

"Oh, well, I already ate, but we should probably talk about how this arrangement is going to work."

Arrangement? Similar to a contract, right? He could do contracts, and whatever you wanted he would happily give.

"For starters, I don't have a spare bed."

He would be perfectly happy sleeping on the floor, is that all you wanted of him?

"So all I can offer the couch until I figure out something else."

Oh. Yeah, that made a bit more sense.

He could feel that the reality of what you had agreed to was starting to dawn on you, and he felt need to assure you that he wouldn't be anything close to a burden.

"No need to trouble yourself. Anything I need I will happily buy myself, or reimburse you with the appropriate amount of mora, naturally."

"Oh, right, mora..."

You had almost forgotten that his form of currency had absolutely no standing in your world, it looked as though you would have to pay for him after all, at least for the time being, which really wasn't that much different from when you were playing the game-

"So, our currency here isn't actually mora."

You noticed his look of confusion and backtracked, "Well, there is more than one currency, but mora isn't one of them."

More than one currency? Mora not being a currency?? Maybe this universe was more detached from his than he had previously thought, and that did leave the problem of reimbursement...

He let out a hum in understanding.

"I see the problem. Well, it seems I'll just have to earn my stay another way."

The way he said it threw you off, so formal, so detached, as if it was simply a given that he would have to repay you at some point.

You supposed you shouldn't have expected any less from the God of contracts though.

This entire situation had exhausted you, and it was already rather late. Plus, if you saw any more Archons today, you very well might passed out from shock.

"Well, I think I'm going to bed now, so feel free to make yourself comfortable, and I'll see you in the morning."

Maybe when you awoke you would realize that you hallucinated this entire thing, and you really were absolutely losing it.

Zhongli just gave you a patient smile and a small nod, wishing you a good night in turn, and watched as you walked to your room.

You just laid in bed, staring at the ceiling for about fifteen minutes straight, tossing and turning, not able to get your brain to shut itself off.

Of course you were still tired, no matter how much you simply wanted to run over every detail of what had just happened in your head, over and over until it was committed to memory.

So within another five minutes you had fallen into a rather restless sleep, slightly concerned about what you would wake to find in the morning, but also secretly worried about what it was possible you wouldn't find.

After about thirty minutes and a reasonable amount of self debate, when Zhongli was relatively certain that you had fallen asleep, he chose to quietly open your door.

It was only for a look, just to make sure you were doing well, surely all of this would have stressed anyone out.

His eyes softened as they fell upon your sleeping form, you looking just so divine like that.

This was the right decision. Or, at the very least, it was a decision he would stand behind.

Staying away from Teyvat for a long period of time would certainly be a bit stressful, but as soon as he convinced you of your rightful status, you would join him there.

This was his responsibility now, to convince you of what he and hundreds of others already knew, to return you to your rightful place.

He wouldn't go back, not until he was doing it with you.

[zeevoidlight]

I wonder...

I don't know how people came to the headcanon that the Hero's Shade/The Hero of Time came back to Hyrule and died in this armor as part of the royal knights defending Zelda, probably in a great battle. Maybe it's a manga thing or a popular theory. But I have a different headcanon to why he might look like that.

His armor doesn't look at all like something from Hyrule. Is not Hylian, Goron, Zora or Gerudo, or anything similar. But I do feel like it makes sense with the type of shapes and decorations from Termina, from the Stone Tower temple and Ikana more closely. At least according to what I see. There's a lot more sand tones and reds, more round shapes and decorations that feel like painted that fill the blank spaces to make them pop up. I think his armor is so strange because it's supposed to make us understand that he died elsewhere, somewhere like Termina to connect the dots backwards to Majora's Link.

There is still of course all those things that theories point out to suggest that Link didn't stayed in Termina and actually came back to settle with Malon to eventually make Twilight Link a direct descendant of him, and I do believe that there's truth there too. But at the same time I don't see how that makes it impossible for him to not be able to go back and forth between the two realms like the Happy Mask Salesman does or Skullkid himself (unless you believe that Termina was a dream or illusion). Termina is like Wonderland but is not a dream, is just another dimension accessible through the Lost Woods portal.

So, if I may, what I think is that he stayed in Termina for a while when the Majora's mask ordeal ended. After all there's a huge gap we don't know anything about the hero of time, his entire young and adult life, and then we skip to many years after his death in the era of his descendant.

I have the headcanon that he had to stay to perform with the Indigo-go's at the festival after Majora was defeated, and also had to explain Lulu the situation of her being a single mother of six at least (where they six? I don't remember), finish some side quests that needed to be repeated but with a bit more time for it. Maybe even be with skullkid enough for him to later carve that image of both Link and himself playing together, like wanting to immortalize a good memory of both having a good time and not just it being in skullkid's imagination of what it might have been if Link stayed longer or just symbolism of their friendship. It makes for a better story to me.

Then, maybe a little grown up to say.. his appearance in his adult form (17 yo), Link returned to Hyrule and found himself being flooded with memories (I'm decorating the explanation a bit), and visiting places he and Malon crossed paths again. They become friends, fall in love (maybe encouraged by Talon between jokes and being serious), and they start to have a life in the ranch as a couple with some kids.

But it doesn't take to long until that desire of being a hero creep again into his mind. Link just can't let go the feeling that he needs to make honor to that title by being a hero, and people need to know of his deeds, is his responsibility and the weight he has to carry. But the only place that could fulfill that desire is beyond Hyrule and probably beyond Termina. We are assuming Ganondorf's execution hasn't yet occured but will be in Link's time, just later. For now Hyrule was at peace. Is the job of the hero to never let his guard go down and wait for a disaster to occur.

So with that in mind, he started to go back to Termina. For longer periods each time trying to find the next threat that might find it's way into Hyrule (because that's the only thing he's learned from childhood if anything), promising Malon he'd come back, taking longer and longer trips each time. Leaving useful things for the next hero in case he didn't return. But why Termina? Because as Aonuma has said, Termina is named like that because it's a Terminal, like an airport, so it might be kind of like a Hub to get access to other worlds, or where other dimensions connect to.

He found nothing though.

But, if you believe in the Stone Tower temple theory by Monster Maze, which is very cool and interesting on its own but basically it says that the tower is not from Termina or Hyrule, is a portal to a realm beyond Gerudo desert, so if you subscribe to that theory like I do then we can create a narrative with it. Let's say that our Link here started to investigate this temple, and that he found the Realm that connects to the tower, he found the people that built it. Or maybe he just found something more in the kingdom of Ikana, a new conflict or a mystery to solve. He should be a full adult person by then. He found another adventure and another realm that needed his help. He donned the armor, he fought his battles, but he died there. And he couldn't go back to Hyrule and Malon again... At least not alive. I don't know what kind of magic or properties that realm might have had because it's all a supposition based on theories upon theories of something that's been left to each person's imagination, but Ikana itself is very much connected to the Dead and it's curse is such a powerful one that it can't be undone. I do want to believe that some time after his death he came back to "life" technically as a stalfos (because stalfos are cool, shut up), or a revenant (revenants have one or two eyes lit up with an unnatural light, so it might not even be that he lost an eye in battle, is just his revenant eye after death signifying his unfinished business), and he probably had more adventures in that new form until he managed to return to Hyrule.

But changing from realm to realm made him became a ghost of sorts (like the ones in Twilight's courtyard), maybe changing from realm to realm as an undead/stalfos/revenant made his body more intangible. And then his spirit just wandered around as his chosen form, a golden wolf. In part because he chose that form, in part because it was a sort of calling from the triforce to take that form.

Until he felt a familiar aura. The aura of the new hero, the Hero of Twilight. Finally he would be able to ease his regrets...

That's my headcanon at least.

Also... Why is he so tall as the Shade, you ask. Well, he's a shade, a shadow. Not in the literal sense but as his title says he is the Hero's shade as in regrets, the hero's regrets. The shadow of guilt that always followed him, himself. So, in a poetic way his shadow of regret is bigger than him, and it manifests physically bigger too... Or y'know, why are there stalfos, poes and ghouls as big as houses in the Zelda universe. I guess that's just something you can do after you die.

That all. No closing thoughs other than the hero's shade, ocarina of time Link, the hero of time, is one of my favorite characters of all time.