#maybe that's why my attempts at writing a book never worked

[dogearedheart]

8i've been thinking about the last asks i got today. and i think it's better for me to take a step back from this account. i know the anon didn't mean anything by it, but i still feel like i am being a negative presence on here and weirding people out with who i am is nothing i want. so, i am not deleting or anything. i am just gonna be less present with sharing personal things or leaving tags. I'll probably be more active on my second account where i don't have that many followers :)

[thekissofaphrodite]

Can you maybe do Clarisse x fem! Child of Hypnos?? I don’t think I’ve seen anything of that dynamic and I’d like to see how you would write it!

OKAY. IM ACTUALLY RLLY EXCITED ABT THIS SINCE JUST LIKE ANON SAID, I'VE NEVER SEEN A DYNAMIC LIKE IT BEFOREE.

Sweet Dreams

Clarisse La Rue X Daughter of Hypnos!Reader

Summary: A shared moment with clarrise with a flick of your finger.

Warnings: Hypnokinesis, people passing out and language

Author's note: Okay, I'm actually tired of some writers portraying a child of hypnos who likes to sleep... yeah, sure, their dad is the God of sleep, but that doesn't mean they just slump on their bed and snore away! They're also powerful! If you read the books !SPOILER ALERT! Hypnos literally knocked an entire city to sleep before the battle of Manhattan for Kronos. Why can't we portray his children like that? 🤨 No hate! Just speaking facts <33

CHILDREN OF HYPNOS DESERVES SOME RECOGNITION!! (coming from cabin 7)

——

You missed your girlfriend so much.

She was in archery and capture the flag today, but you two barely got enough time to run to each other before she was bombarded by tasks from Chiron.

You saw the way her eyes would soften from afar, giving you a discreet sympathetic look while she went on a rampage on her siblings ready to stab them into kebabs using her spear. But she knew you'd find a way to get to her, she always knew.

and you always do.

It wasn't long before every camper eventually dozed off after a fun sing-a-long around the campfire, singing their hearts out about their godly parent, minus a Demeter Girl complaining about getting a fern for her birthday instead of a car like all her friends.

So here you are, pulling your night robe closer as you impatiently wait for your father to caress Clarisse's siblings to sleep so you can have a moment with her.

But your father was taking way too long.

you have been hiding behind the cabin for hours, Listening to the unpleasant way the swords and spears of the Ares cabin got sharpened and big boisterous faces laughing at eachother. Clarisse was in her bunk, her arms crossed with a seemingly frowning expression. Every laughter made by her siblings made her more and more annoyed.

Every minute that passed made you more agitated until you finally snapped.

You stood behind the cabin and held your hands, focusing on the heartbeats and every breath that they exhaled, The sound around you became indistinct and fuzzy, the time seemed to slow down. A translucent light smoke seemed to snake inside the Cabin before it swirled around Clarisse' siblings, it took a few moments before their eyelids got heavy, their breathing ragged. And sure enough, there was a soft thud where their body fell.

It took you by surprise. It also snapped Clarisse out of her thoughts. Seeing her siblings who were talking lively minutes ago dozing off turned her off, She stood up alarmingly, ready to fend herself to any attacks of intruder.

When she saw you, her tense body softened, the beam on your face was a little unreadable, but she couldn't help but smile.

You ran and threw yourself into her arms, she caught you easily, carrying your weight like nothing.

"I did it, Clar!" You squealed, Clalrisse looked at you, confused.

"Did what, Baby?"

"My father finally blessed me! I get to use my powers, i can't believe this, did you see?!" You were babbling like a baby, words being thrown at her in hyperplaps, but she listened, never letting you go in her arms. She listened and remembered everything.

Like the time you were sobbing in her arms, after multiple failed attempts on praying to your father, it hurt her. She remembered when she used to devote herself to Ares, offering him big chunk of brisket and the freshest strawberries on her plate, just for him to answer her prayer, but it never worked, until finally he had enough of her, and gifted Clarisse a spear to shut her up.

But seeing you happy for finally being able to have powers, she felt something inside her change.

Clarisse tightened her arms around you, placing her nose to your hair, inhailing your scent.

"I'm proud of you" she pulled away and placed her hand against your cheek. She was slowly analyzing the color of your eyes, carefully studying each and every details your face had, then she slowly reached to your lips, the color was a mix of peach and pink, assuming it was from the lipgloss, but it looks so deliciously kissable right now.

Her hands reached the back of your head and before you know it, her lips were against yours, an arm wrapped around your waist while pulling you close.

"I love you, did you know that?" Clarisse whispered on your lips, "i doubt it" You laughed, falling over Clarisse' soft bunk bed as she kissed you once more.

An extra for you guys since i disappeared too long :>

——

There were soft groans and mumbles coming from Clarisse' siblings, it was already 3:46 am.

"What happened?" Asked Sherman while rubbing his temple.

Clarisse rolled her eyes at her brother, Sherman, glancing at their weapons leaned against their bunk.

"Nothing, i guess you two spent way too long gossiping that your eyes eventually took it themselves and took a rest" she said, Clarisse was trying not to grin at her siblings, knowing well that it was all her girlfriend's doing.

"Huh... what did you do when we're out then?" One of her brothers, Ellis asked.

"The usual, inspection and lights out"

"Really?" Both brothers said in unison.

"Yes, don't look at me like I'm lying, unless you want a spear up your ass" Clarisse snapped, rolling over and hugging her pillow to sleep.

Both brother looked at eachother and quietly snickered, i guess they'll keep hush about that peach and pink lipgloss smudge near clarisse' neck.

And they'll definitely tell the others tomorrow.

[highvern]

Home for the Holidays

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x fem!reader

Genre: romance, smut, angst, exes to lovers, Christmas!AU, fake dating

Warnings: she/her pronouns, Drug use, alcohol, mentions of aging family members, unhealthy family dynamics, mentions of illness (reader is a doctor), cursing, dry-humping/grinding, kissing, oral (f. receiving), masturbation, unprotected sex, angst, poor self-esteem/self-doubt, pining, some threats of bodily harm

Length: ~24k

Note: God this was such a doozy. I started it on December 1st and barely finished it this morning. Based on Happy Place by Emily Henry (if you like romcoms I highly recommend all her books) and most cheesy Christmas movies (Exmas). Did I project my middle child syndrome onto fellow middle child Wooyoung? Maybe! BUT why write if not to explore your own trauma lmao

Like, comment, reblog, enjoy or don’t! Merry Christmas! MWAH!

This blog is intended for 18+ only! MDNI or you'll be blocked!

June 27th

“So I have some news. I know it hasn’t been easy for us going back—”

“I think we should break up.”

“and forth so much but—What?” 

“I don’t think it's working out between us.”

“Oh,” is all you manage to say before your vocal cords seize.

Your mouth falls open, lips attempting to form words that don’t manage to make a sound. Eyes shifting around the room, the sheen of tears thickening as a few beads trail down your cheeks as you stand shakily; managing only a few steps away from the table before a choked sob wiggles free from an iron grip. People are staring as you nearly run out to the door, unaware that several whip around to look at the man left sitting behind you.

Wooyoung doesn’t chase you down. Doesn’t call or text as you walk the twenty blocks to Lisa’s apartment in the thick humidity of the city night; snot and tears trailing down your face.

Wooyoung doesn’t say anything at all as eight years shatter to pieces in a matter of seconds.

December 7th

Wooyoung

…twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight.

Wooyoung staples the finished packets together, ears tickled by jazzy Christmas music leaking from his computer speakers in the corner of his L-shaped desk. Surrounded by colorful brick walls of a midtown elementary school isn’t where most people his age would find themselves on a Friday evening but where else would he go?

His roommates have their partners over, he’d rather avoid the frigid dampness of the park he usually smokes at, and Wooyoung isn’t interested in the crowds clogging anywhere else he’d think to visit. The usual comforting bustle of the city only serves to set him on edge, making him desperate for a true solitude he really craves. Getting ahead on his classroom prep for the remainder of the semester seemed like the perfect, albeit a depressing way, to spend the evening.

The dulcet tones of Dean Martin are joined by an incoming call buzzing his phone across the wooden top of the desk. A familiar picture of his mom and him as a baby flashing across the screen before he answers.

“Hi sweetie,” his mom yells on the other line. Wooyoung can tell she’s driving home from work based on the poor audio quality.

“Hey mom,” he wedges the device between his shoulder and cheek, using his hands to continue organizing the worksheets for Monday; paper warm in his palms from the printer.

“I’m just calling to make sure you and Y/N are still coming for Christmas. I know the hospital is usually crazy this time of year so I thought I’d double check.”

“Actually mom—”

“Bibi keeps talking about wanting everyone home for Christmas but if Y/N can’t make it she’ll understand. She’s always been her favorite.” His mom laughs.

Wooyoung’s grandmother is impolitely frank about her age and never hesitates to use it to her own advantage. How does he tell her that his girlfriend, who she liked more than her own grandsons some days, is no longer his girlfriend? And how he is the only one to be blamed for that.

He might as well start digging his own grave.

“We’ll be there.” Wooyoung blabs before he can stop himself.

“Wonderful! I’m pulling into the driveway so I’ll talk to you later. Love you!”

“Love you too.”

Fortunately, on a cold winter night like tonight, the only other soul in the building is Mr. Rollins, a janitor with headphones permanently attached to his ears. The colorful combination of expletives pouring from Wooyoung’s mouth would make a sailor blush.

Typing in a familiar name to his message bar, Wooyoung realizes he hasn’t changed it in all this time; the string of emojis from the first night he got her number glaring back at him in mockery. A sting of bile blisters the back of Wooyoung’s throat as he steads himself for what he’s about to do. Who he is about to ask for the biggest mercy; one he didn’t deserve in the slightest.

Wooyoung: Can I call you?

Wooyoung inhales before hitting “send,” locking his phone and tossing it down like it’s possessed.

Barely a full minute passes before it vibrates with her response.

Y/N🥰🍯💖: are you okay?

He can’t even type a reply before the buzz buzz buzz on an incoming call tickles against his palm. 

Tapping into the false chipper personality he reserves for strangers and his class, Wooyoung answers with a simple. “Hey!” 

“Hi.” She deadpans.

“Is it a bad time?”

“What do you want, Woo?”

“How have you been?”

“I’m fine. But you aren’t calling to ask me that.”

Wooyoung wants to object but she’s right. “I’m not but I still care.”

“Sure.”

“Okay, so my mom called and asked if you were coming over for Christmas.”

“Why?” Y/N asks after a pregnant pause.

“Because I haven’t told them we broke up.”

A rush of clattering sounds from her end along with a few curse words sounding far away before she continues. “Are you fucking kidding me? It’s been six months!”

“I know! But I’ve been busy and there was never a good time and it’s just kinda snowballed.”

“Well, tell her now.”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Bibi keeps talking about how she wants everyone how for one last Christmas and with Kyungmin going to colle—”

“Please tell me you’re not suggesting what I think you are.”

“You know I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate.”

“I thought us breaking up meant I didn’t have to deal with your shit anymore.”

“I can tell them your busy and the hospital is keeping you or—”

“No,” Wooyoung can picture the hand scrubbing down her face, fingers massaging her temples the same way she always did when his shenanigans got them in trouble. “I’ll do it.”

Now he’s the one to pause, “Really?”

“Yeah, it’d be nice to see them all one last time.”

“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I actually need to get back to doing that so–”

“Yeah, I’ll, ugh, talk to you later. Bye.”

“Bye.”

As the line clicks and Wooyoung is left alone in his classroom, the space abruptly feels too big. With each minute ticking by, he convinces himself he hallucinated the entire exchange because there is no possible way his ex-girlfriend agreed to this ill-thought plan. Everything feels too normal for her to extend such undue kindness his way, especially after how he ruined their relationship in a moment of insecurity.

Wooyoung: My flight out is 12/21

Wooyoung: You don’t have to come that early 

Y/N🥰🍯💖: im off starting the 19th

Wooyoung: I’ll pay for your flight

Y/N🥰🍯💖: great

Y/N🥰🍯💖: ill venmo you

Wooyoung: Cool, send me the details

There’s a weight on Wooyoung’s tongue at the new dynamic settling between them. Eight years of dating but now she’s a stranger. The last text messages arranging for their mutual friend Lisa to pick up a box of her stuff from his apartment. 

Six months and he didn’t know if she kept her hair the same way or what new book she was obsessing over in her sparse free time; if her neighbor in Boston’s yappy geriatric dog finally kicked the bucket.

Lovers. Almost fiancées. And now strangers.

December 10th

Wooyoung

Wooyoung wakes up to the early morning bustle of the busy streets just outside his window. His phone clock reads thirty minutes past his normal alarm which means he’s late. And that means his boss is going to tear his ass a new one. 

In a whirl, Wooyoung rushes to the bathroom. He wets his hands with the freezing tap water, patting his face and attempting to style his bed ridden hair. The door shifts to catch his foot as he exits, stubbing his toe and forcing him to hop down the hallway to his room. Wrinkled khakis and a sweater are all Wooyoung manages before he throws on his parka and is out the door. 

He sprints to the subway, just in time to see the doors closing on his train.

“Fuck me!”

“Too young for me buddy,” croaks the homeless man splayed on the bench in the middle of the platform.

Ignoring him, Wooyoug paces further down the station, anger filling him with restless energy. Glancing at his phone, he shoots an email to his principal that he’ll be late due to “train delays.” Thank god for the MTA being a regular piece of shit. 

Finally checking the stream of missed notifications during the night, he uses the lull to answer them.

Mom: Does y/n still like those chips we bought last time? I’m at the store getting a few things

Wooyoung: She said she’s happy with whatever you get!

Not a lie since Y/N would be happy to have snacks of any kind.

SANNIE⛰️: YOU DIDN’T TELL YOUR PARENTS? 

SANNIE⛰️: U R SO FUCKED

At least he can always count on San to state the obvious.

Y/N🥰🍯💖: here’s my ticket 

Wooyoung does a double take when he sees she’s flying out of New York, not Boston. Why isn’t she flying out of Boston? There’s no way it’s cheaper than flying out of Boston and she wouldn’t go through the trouble of getting down here unless she had a good reason.

Wooyoung: Why are you flying out of LGA?

Y/N🥰🍯💖: Because I live here?

A lump of lead hardens in his stomach. She lives here, in New York. She’s been in the city and he didn’t even notice. Questions race forward. How long has she been here? Where is she working? What neighborhood is she in? Why didn’t he know she moved back?

The last question is more his own fault than he cares to admit.

His train arrives without preamble, brakes screeching as it slows to a stop. Wooyoung crowds into the compartment, happy for it to be relatively empty. Finding a spot on the wall, he zones out of the chaos for the next twenty minutes. A group of highschoolers laugh obnoxiously in the corner, snatching one another’s phones as they share god knows what between them. A young mom tries to placate her crying baby, the older man next to her rolling his eyes as he devours his morning paper. When the doors open at his stop, Wooyoung pauses for a second as an elderly woman enters the train. Catching her eye, he offers her his seat; only standing when she’s close enough so no one else tries to take it from her. 

Wooyoung slithers out of the closing doors and bolts out of the station as fast as he can.

Panting and sweating under his black parka, Wooyoung arrives outside the red doors of the elementary school he teaches at. Principal Martinez is tapping his foot at the top of the steps, arms crossed in front of his chest, scowl etched deep on his face.

“This is the third time this month.”

“I know, I’m sorry! But the train got delayed with repairs or something and—”

“Save it. You have a class to get to.”

Breezing past, Wooyoung’s boots clack against the linoleum tile as he careens towards his classroom. The rowdy cacophony of third grade voices echo beyond the doorway, only increasing in volume as he peeks his head in.

A dozen shrill voices scream something along the lines of, “Mr. Jung you’re late!”

“You’re all just early!” Wooyoung goads back, sending a thankful look at the teacher who stepped in to watch them till he arrived.

The room descends into giggles, students finding their places as he settles at his own desk.

“So today, we’re starting with circle time!”

Y/N

“Let me get this straight: your ex asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend and now you’re spending Christmas with his family?”

Sparing a glance from the manilla folder containing notes on your next patient, you see Hongjoong watching you skeptically. The ridiculousness of the situation isn’t lost on you. You’d nearly convinced yourself the entire exchange Friday night was some cruel dream if not for the string of text messages proving it’d been real. Wooyoung’s first real attempt to speak with you post-breakup, and he asks you to pretend he didn’t break your heart six months ago.

“That’s about as straight as it gets.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows furrow, “And you said yes, why?”

“Because…” 

You missed him? Because you still loved him? Because when you saw his message you thought he was finally ready to admit it'd all been a mistake? 

Because Wooyoung always convinced you to go along with whatever he asked?

“I really like his family.”

“Oh, sweet child.” He clicks, leafing through his own case file.

“Look, it’ll be nice to see them one last time and I’d rather spend the holidays with them than cramped in my apartment to avoid the tourists.”

“Are you sure that’s the only reason why?”

“Yep.”

“This can’t go wrong at all!”

“Shut up,” you say before dipping into the exam room, shifting your face into an enthusiastic smile. “How are we today, Mrs. Haspin?”

“We’re doing okay. Harper hasn’t been liking the new medicine you prescribed.”

“She hasn’t?” You gasp sarcastically, staring wide eyed at the tiny brunette with braided pigtails sitting on the exam room bed.

“They’re gross!” Harper cries with all the sincerity a four year old can muster, her tiny hands wrinkling the paper as she slaps the bed indignantly.

“Well that’s no good. I’ll make sure to check if they have other flavors.” You type a few notes in her electronic chart as you turn over your shoulder. “Mom, have you noticed a difference?”

“She’s not having as many coughing fits.”

“That is very good.” You curl your stethoscope in your palm, attempting to warm the cool metal. “Can I listen to your lungs, Harper?”

She shakes her head up and down vigorously, the pink and gold beads at the end of her pigtails clacking together.

“Alright, take a deep breath in.” The woosh of air entering her lungs fills the room. “And out. In. And out.”

You prompt her to continue several times, gliding the chestpiece along various parts of her back as you listen intently. A few crackles pop in your ears, mucus coating her airways; only made worse by the dry winter of the city.

“Very good, Harper.” you praise before turning to her mom waiting anxiously in the corner. “With the winter make sure you’re using the humidifier as much as possible but her lungs sound better than last time so I’d like to stay on the meds.” You swivel back to your patient. “I’ll check with the pharmacy if they can do something about the flavor. Okay?”

Harper beams, glad to be heard. Her mother beams for an entirely different reason. Her daughter struggled with respiratory issues since she’d been born and as she aged they’d only gotten worse. Harper was the first patient you took when you started two months ago and in that time you’ve grown fond of her.

“All right, I’ll walk you all to the front. I think we can push out our next visit until six weeks since she’s been doing so well. If anything comes up, please don’t hesitate to call us.”

Handing them off to the receptionist to schedule their next appointment, you return to your office for a quick lunch.

Y/N: Because I live here

Youngie 🖤: since when?

How do you tell him that you’ve lived here since the day he broke up with you? How that night at dinner you were planning to surprise him by moving back to New York and removing the distance that plagued your relationship for three years?

The benefit of no longer being in a relationship means you don’t have to explain anything.

Locking your phone, you scarf down the squashed sandwich you brought from home before rushing to your next patient. 

Wooyoung

Wooyoung: since when?

Wooyoung checked his phone after finishing pick up duty, one of several over the next month as a bargain to keep his job.

She’d ignored him. It wasn’t the first time his messages went hours before being answered. She was a doctor, and before that a med student, and before that pre-med when they’d met at some dive and realized they shared a behavioral psych class. Y/N always maintained a full schedule, only responding to the outside world when the night bled into the early hours of the day.

Wooyoung: Did you know Y/N moved here?

Yeosang: Yes.

Well fuck.

Wooyoung: You didn’t think to tell me?

Yeosang: You broke up.

Yeosang: ?

Even his roommate knew she’d been in the city.

Double fuck.

December 14th

Y/N

Another week passes before Wooyoung reaches out to you again. You’re set to leave in a few days but work requires all the energy you can manage thanks to a volatile respiratory season. 

Youngie 🖤: Our flights are around the same time. Do you wanna carpool?

You spoke with Yeosang frequently enough (once in a blue moon) to know they still lived in the dingy old walk up they could hardly afford. The high rise you rented further up Manhattan would be on his way to the airport but did you want to see Wooyoung sooner than needed?

Misery still festered in your veins since the break up. Eight years you’d dated; through senior year of undergrad, four years of medical school, and just shy of three years of residency. And the asshole couldn’t give you a single reason for your break up. No warning. No fighting. The same bouquet of delicate pink tulips waiting in hand for you as you arrived at the train station for your last visit to the city before relocating permanently. Yeosang texted you that very afternoon about his excitement to have you back as if nothing was wrong.

A beautiful afternoon holed up in his room for a late nap before dinner, apartment silent in the absence of his three roommates who’d usually greet you enthusiastically as you returned to the city for a visit. Wooyoung hadn’t acted any differently than the other times you visited, seemingly unaware of the surprise you planned to unveil at the fancy dinner he planned to congratulate you on finishing your long years of training.

But then he sat down and said the six words that replayed in your mind like a curse.

And that was the last time you heard his voice until Friday night; as if Wooyoung dove off the face of the earth. The only proof of living were the traces of him in his friends’ Instagram stories or faceless photos of him in their posts.

You’d never been one to post much on social media anyway but his shock at your move back to the city fanned a sick sense of satisfaction. As if to say “two can play at that game.” Wooyoung cut you out and you’d done the same. Keeping your move under lock and key despite sharing the same friend group.

Y/N: no thanks

You’re toeing the line of rudeness but what’s Wooyoung going to do? Break up with you again?

December 21st

Wooyoung

Terminal C of LaGuardia Airport four days before Christmas ranks among the top destinations no one in their right mind would want to be. Parents attempting to keep track of hyper children, businessmen scowling down their nose as they scream into their cellphones, adults slamming down overpriced drinks in preparation for the endless questions holidays bring.

“Bringing home anyone special?”

“When are you going to get married?”

“Grandchildren?”

The last is Wooyoung’s grandmother’s new favorite. Myungho faces the brunt of it; married three years and in no rush to add another mouth to feed just yet. When Wooyoung flew home for Bibi’s birthday in April, she decided to turn her inquiry towards him and Y/N. 

How fun it’ll be to answer those questions again with his temporarily not ex-girlfriend.

Security is long and laborious. One agent yells at him for keeping his shoes on, another rolls her eyes when he asks if his laptop needs to come out of his backpack. In front of him, a frail looking elderly woman struggles with placing the hard plastic bin on the rolling conveyor belt. Behind, grumbles of discontent regarding her holding up the line rise in volume as Wooyoung helps her with her things; sending a smile to her thank you.

And because no good deed goes unpunished, Wooyoung gets pulled for an extra search once he passes the large metal detector.

A burly pale skinned man with blue nitrile gloves sorts through his belongings with the gentleness of a bull in a china shop. Wooyoung’s wrecked and dusty backpack passes inspection easily enough but the contents of his carry-on end up spread across the shiny metal table for further examination under the sterile lights. Gifts for his family, some books he’s teaching next semester, and a navy velvet box he hasn’t left the city without in the past year.

That is apparently the source of interest for TSA as the man pops open the lid to scan the marquis cut diamond ring before putting it back in its place.

“Congrats, man.”

“Thanks.” Wooyoung gives a tight smile.

Nodding his head to his colleague, the TSA agent steps away and allows Wooyoung to pack his bags.

He really needs a drink.

Y/N

“I’m sorry ma’am, the flight is overbooked. But there is room on the next flight to Denver!”

“No charge?”

“Not unless you would like to upgrade to business class.”

You have the money and Wooyoung paid for your seat so it’s technically cheaper than it’d usually be. However, Wooyoung would take it personally if he found out you sat in business when he paid for a last minute economy flight on a teachers salary. A few hours of comfort aren’t worth adding to the awkwardness you’ll face over the next week.

 “No, thank you. But if there’s an aisle seat available that’d be great.”

She taps on her keyboard with manicured nails for a moment, the light of the screen reflecting on her face, before speaking with a perfect customer service smile. “Alright, your new flight number is AYX287 and you’ll be flying out of Gate 98.”

“Thank you.” You say, reviewing the boarding pass she printed. Your new gate is on the opposite side of the terminal but you have a little over an hour to make it there.

Rolling your silver carry-on next to you, you weave in and out of the other airport goers heading in the opposite directions. A curse of any crowded space, people forget to walk with a sense of purpose. You dodge a young couple, probably teenagers, standing in the middle of the walkway oblivious to anyone else; only to end up behind an gaggle of older women surrounded by a heavy cloud of perfume and cheap wine. One of their shirts reads “Happily Divorced!” in glittery cursive.

More nimble footwork and multiple sign checks later, you reach the correct wing of the terminal with forty five minutes to spare. Confirming that your gate does in fact exist, you turn back up the walkway to find a drink. Preferably several.

The first time you see Wooyoung in months will require the strongest alcohol you can finally afford now that residency is over and you're making the hefty salary you’d been promised at the start of medical school.

A friendly faced woman, old enough to be your mother, greets you as you take a stool at her bar. 

“Cranberry margarita.”

“Wanna start a tab?”

“Yes, please.” You answer, handing over your credit card.

The first overpriced drink goes down smoothly, a little sweet and perfectly tart. The second and third much the same. Pleasantly buzzed with fifteen minutes till boarding, you cash out and shuffle back to wait by the gate.

And in one of the cramped pleather seats of the waiting area, sits your ex-boyfriend.

Wooyoung

Wooyoung is hallucinating. Two gin and gingers and a THC gummy churning in his stomach make the mirage in front of him look incredibly realistic.

In her usual flying outfit, Wooyoung’s ex-girlfriend stands twenty feet away every bit as beautiful as the last time he saw her. Loose gray sweats, the same old hunter green crew neck with the name of his hometown in frayed golden embroidery on the front, sherpa lined short ugg boots, and glasses perched on the end of her nose. The silver carry-on she bought in the airport last time they visited his family at her side.

And a sour look of absolute disgust twisting her lips.

Better he sees her for the first time since their break up now instead of later in front of the audience of his nosy family. In the safety of anonymity, she can kill him multiple times over with her eyes, and Wooyoung can grovel and pander like he usually does.

Or Wooyoung would if she hadn’t taken a seat along the bay of windows at the opposite end of the alcove.

Wonderful.

Y/N actively avoids looking in his general direction for the next fifteen minutes. An impressive feat given he’s directly in front of the help desk and TV screen displaying updates for their flight. But she digs her nose into her phone, tapping furiously to who Wooyoung assumes is her best friend. If he wakes up to Lisa in his apartment one morning with a knife to his throat, there’ll at least be a paper trail of evidence.

The gate agent booms over the loudspeaker, announcing priority boarding and first class to come forward. Wooyoung’s bank account weeps at the idea of flying first class during Christmas. Who flies first class domestic? A true mystery for the ages.

The familiar head of hair, full of murderous thoughts aimed at him, boards with group three. Flashing a polite smile to the gate agent as she struts down the hall without a glance back. 

When Wooyoung is called with the last group, he’s first in line. The airport is a dog eat dog world and his good deeds end where the boarding line begins.

Nearly every seat is filled when Wooyoung shuffles down the cramped aisle, full overhead bins already closed half way down the plane. He doesn’t spot Y/N amongst the faces of passengers preparing for the next five hours, some already knocked out with eye masks and neck pillows.

Seat 27A, a window seat Wooyoung paid an extra $37 for, sits next to a blissfully vacant middle seat. There’s also just enough room for his black suitcase to fit overhead, snug between a gray hard case, and a blue duffle. 

The aisle seat in the row is occupied by a man who looks a little younger than Wooyoung's age, a college hoodie and baseball cap similar to his own. He rises, allowing Wooyoung to shuffle by and plop into his chair. Stuffing his backpack under the seat in front, Wooyoung shoots a few last minute texts. One to his family group chat, letting them know the flight is about to take off; resending the flight number for his dad to anxiously track. Another to his roommate group chat, reminding them to cover the drains before they leave town. And a final one to San, begging for thoughts and prayers.

He barely hits send when the seat next to him jostles with the weight of a body. Turning, Wooyoung spots the man in the aisle seat a few inches from himself. On the other side, his ex-girlfriend.

Great.

Y/N

Wooyoung’s familiar mop of dark hair remains unseen through each new rush of passengers, the plane slowly filling up more and more. You dread to think he got stuck the same way you did hours ago, forced on a later flight than intended. If that was the case, would you be stuck at the airport waiting for him? Given his parents had to drive two hours to pick you both up, the answer is probably yes. And two hours unsupervised with Wooyoung’s mom would ruin the entire plan.

Nature calls you to the cramped bathroom at the back of the aircraft as passengers at the front continue trickling in. Hopefully Wooyoung is sitting far away from you when you return to your seat.

Stupid motherfucker. You think, rattling the jammed door of the airplane stall in an attempt to force it open. Just as you're about to kick the door down, a flight attendant shoves it aside, flashing a tight smile of displeasure.

Shuffling up back to your seat, you awkwardly wait behind struggling passengers putting away their belongings in the sparse overhead space. Thank the powers that be, your new ticket came with better boarding.

Finally catching up to the familiar faces of the rows around your seat, you turn to find two men in your row. One in your seat, and the other your ex boyfriend.

You stop dead in your tracks, with a loud, “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Sorry!” The man who is not your ex-boyfriend apologizes.

“No! Not you, sorry!”

Wooyoung just stares blankly. If habit and history were to repeat itself, Wooyoung carefully timed an edible before stepping through security. Given his propensity for being obnoxiously early to the airport, he should be high as a kite.

And now you’re stuck next to him drunk as a skunk.

Great.

Taking the now vacant aisle seat, you attempt to ignore Wooyoung once again; plugging in your headphones and pulling out a book you’ve been trying to get through for months. Lisa’s recommendation of smutty fantasy romance with hot immortal faeries. You didn’t see the appeal but at her insistence, you gave it a chance.

“Hey,” calls a voice to your left. 

Nope, not doing this. You think, forcing yourself to read the opening paragraph again but registering none of the words..

“Y/N,” he tries again.

In your periphery, you can see Wooyoung folding over at the waist to look around the man sandwiched between you. 

“What?” You snap, ripping out your headphones.

“How’ve you been?”

Rolling your eyes with a groan, you sink back into your chair, headphones replaced and book in the pocket in front of you. It’s going to be a long flight.

Murphy’s law states that anything that can go wrong will and your flight is no exception. The packed jet is stuck taxing for almost an hour, courtesy of the trademark fog and rain of New York in the winter. You can feel the heat of Wooyoung’s gaze burn the side of your face, cheeks heating under his scrutiny. But the full scale meltdown threatening to unleash if you entertain him has no place in the sanctity of a last minute holiday flight of people just trying to make it to their next destination.

He doesn’t stop when the plane finally lurches forward, witnessing you brace for the worst part of flying; take off.

The loud rattles and pitch of jet engines skyrocket your blood pressure, flooding your mouth with saliva as a threat of vomiting everywhere; a sickening cold sweat pooling at your back. All you can do is close your eyes, and take deep calming breaths your guided meditation apps recommend. Running through the facts keeps you from descending into full panic. Airplanes are notoriously safe. The odds of dying in a plane crash are one in eleven million. You’re more likely to die in a car crash or from something one of your patient’s brings into the hospital.

But the brief suspension in time and space as you rise through the atmosphere unsettles you to your core. 

The panic steeping into your veins is temporary, eager to vanish the second you reach cruising altitude. It disappears like a late winter snow under early spring sunlight, leaving only trace evidence it ever existed in the first place. But it’ll be back with a vengeance under the screaming brakes and the sounds of wheels hitting pavement as you land.

The seatbelt sign chimes off, and the breath you’d failed to release follows the fading light that illuminated it. 

Wooyoung tries to talk to you another two times before giving up. The final instance is a plea for the bathroom, which you graciously grant; thrilling in the relief you feel at his absence.

The poor guy between you two looks worse for wear, having offered to trade seats with either of you so you didn’t have to talk across him. You apologize once Wooyoung is out of earshot, excusing the strange behavior with a white lie that he's just a friend from college you didn’t get along with and hadn’t seen in a while. The stranger's name is Jay, and he laughs at the irony.

“That’s crazy that you two ended up on the same flight. Are you from Denver?”

“Oh, no. Just visiting some family in Lavensville. What about you?”

“No way! My mom is from Lanesville.”

“Small world,” you laugh. “So what took you to the city?”

“I’m in grad school at Columbia. Getting my MBA.” 

“Excuse me.” Wooyoung arrives over your shoulder.

When you rise, you notice his face is tense as he passes to return to his seat. He pretends to sleep the rest of the flight as you chat with the man next to you. 

Six laborious hours pass before you land in Denver. Exiting the plane, you leave Wooyoung behind in favor of waiting by the restrooms on the way to arrivals. You tap your foot impatiently as he stumbles over, clearly exhausted by the late arrival of your flight and the idea of another two hours in his mom’s cramped sedan.

Shuffling next to one another in somber silence, you wait for Wooyoung to speak first. He dragged you into this, and it’s his job to make it work.

“How’ve you been?”

“Fine.”

“How’s work?”

“Fine.”

“Okay. Look.” He turns, stepping directly into your path and nearly toppling over when you bounce off his chest. “I’m sorry for all of this but you agreed to come so can we please at least act cordial?”

Unfortunately, Wooyoung is right. He might have put his foot in his mouth, but you didn’t take the chance to bail. He’s only fractionally more guilty than you.

“Fine.” You sigh.

He pins you with a look, eyebrows arched as if asking “are you sure?”

Shuffling around him, you begin your journey to baggage claim once again, Wooyoung hot on your heels.

“I’m working at a hospital uptown, I live in Yorkville, and I still prefer the buses to the train.”

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.” Wooyoung nods. “I’m at the same school, in the same apartment, and still living with San and Yeosang. But Mingi moved to Williamsburg with his girlfriend.”

You try to smother the snarkiness of your voice but a sarcastic “I know.” slips free.

Even if you weren’t as close with the boys due to the break up, they’d been your friends as much as his; especially Mingi’s girlfriend, who’d you introduced him to. Lia invited you to their housewarming party when they finally settled in but you missed it due to work, and the nerves of seeing Wooyoung so soon after such a fresh break up. 

The conveyor belt of remaining unclaimed luggage spins like the saddest merry-go-round in existence. Wooyoung jumps forward to snatch your suitcase before you can react, rolling it your direction before diving back in for his own. Once out of the way, he calls his mom to confirm she’s pulling around to pick you two up. 

The silver sedan whips to the curve, Wooyoung’s mom beaming from the driver’s seat.

“My babies!” She cries through the rolled down window.

Mrs. Jung always gave you the enthusiasm your own mother couldn’t feign. Smiling at her before circling the trunk where Wooyoung packs away your bags, you snatch his hand before he can throw it closed.

“Should we tell them I still live in Boston?”

As if you’ve just spoken another language, Wooyoung simply blinks at you.

“How are we gonna explain separate apartments? It makes no sense.”

“Oh,” he gasps, as if the thought didn’t occur to him. “Ugh, yeah good idea.”

The security guard monitoring the pick up area begins striding towards the car, inhaling to yell a warning. Throwing your remaining luggage inside the trunk roughly, you both sprint to enter the vehicle. Wooyoung plants himself in the passenger seat, squeezing his mom in a tight hug as you buckle in the middle seat. Untangling from her needy son, Mrs. Jung peels out and joins the line of cars attempting to merge on the interstate. 

Reclining the seat back, Wooyoung knocks out immediately, leaving you to fend for yourself.

“How’s Boston, dear?” She chimes, voice light and bouncy despite the late hour.

You provide your stock answer for everytime someone asks over the past three years.

“Cold, wet. Lots of sick babies.”

“At least they’re consistent!”

You try to swallow the instinct to comb through Wooyoung’s hair as he naps. The first thing you learned about him in the early phase of your relationship was that Wooyoung needed some kind of physical contact at all times or he’d die. At least, he thought so. It’d been annoying at first; the constant hand holding, suffocating hugs that left your arms useless as you tried to study, even the overabundance of cartoonish kisses anywhere his lips could reach. But over eight years, you grew to appreciate his special way of showing affection. When words failed the man who always had something to say, he relied on touch to convey the things he couldn’t verbalize.

Even if you say all the right things and act like nothing's wrong, anyone who has ever been associated with Wooyoung will know something is up if he isn’t hanging off you like a koala. So if you’re going to pretend the last six months hadn’t happened then you have no reason not to treat him the way you always had.

Your nails snag on a few invisible tangles in his shaggy hair that spills across the cloth seat. It’s longer than when you last saw him in the summer, top half pulled back in an elastic. Continuing to provide updates, you gently brush the bangs hanging in his face. Wooyoung whines sleepily when you pause, causing his mom to laugh.

“Nice to know the city hasn’t changed him.”

Quick to appease, you start again before responding. “Eh, I don’t know about that. Have you seen some of his shoes?”

“Still?” She gasps.

“Unfortunately, I think it’s terminal.”

Mrs. Jung’s cackly laugh is a perfect doppelganger of her son’s. Shrill and mischievous, compelling you to laugh along in pure glee even if you don’t find shared humor; bewitched by the pure joy.

Once the initial rush of reunion wanes, she insists you doze along with her son. The gentle caress of warm air from the vents, paired with the smooth carols from the radio, lulls you down into a shallow rest.

Wooyoung

As his mom rolls to a stop in their driveway, the gentle glow of the car's cabin lights draw Wooyoung awake. Eyes only a quarter open, he stretches in the reclined seat with an obnoxious yawn, hands brushing the firm body of Y/N dozing behind him. She shrugs his hand off her thigh, burrowing back down into the collar of her sweater.

“Come on, sleepy heads. We’re home.” His mom announces as she opens her door.

Home for Wooyoung is a cream two story, five bedroom, three bathroom, Williamsburg Revival style home with royal blue shutters. His dad added the two car garage himself, meticulously matching the exterior to the existing home, blending old and new seamlessly under the watchful eye of his mom. The now gray and dead garden that usually bloomed wildly below the first floor windows was his grandmother’s contribution when she moved in before Wooyoung started highschool.

When his parents were two college students at the obscure liberal arts college Lavensville was built around, his mom had been obsessed with the very house Wooyoung grew up in. According to his dad, Wooyoung’s mom talked more about the house than anything else; a true historic preservationist to her core.

It was an odd way to ask someone to marry you, but his dad always said “Some women wanted a ring. Your mom wanted this house.”

His dad surprised her with the ring after she stopped crying about the house.

Golden string lights drip from the corners of the roof, casting the exterior in a buttery soft haze. Each window sporting a wreath with a thick red velvet ribbon. A heavy layer of snow coating the ground like powdered sugar makes the entire scene like something out of a snowglobe. 

Another yawn before braving the inevitable blast of chilly air, Wooyoung spots Y/N in the rearview mirror; features curled in a sleepy scowl, eyes squinted against the sudden light.

Wooyoung joins his mom at the back of the car, crowding her away from the truck as she insists on helping them carry everything inside. She manages to snag his backpack and Y/N’s carryon before he can shoo her towards the path to the front door where his dad is jamming on an old pair of sneakers to come help.

“We got it!” Y/N calls across the icy lawn, bidding the older man to stay inside as she struggles with her suitcase.

“I can see that.” His dad laughs, jogging down the salted sidewalk curving along the front of the house to reach them.

His dad lifts her larger suitcase out of the truck with ease, leaving Wooyoung to roll his own inside while Y/N balances her tote bag and his carryon. The wheels grate against the uneven brick sidewalk as everyone rushes to return to the heated interior of the house.

It’s well past midnight as they climb the staircase in the foyer to the second floor. Wooyoung’s room is just as he left it the last time he visited in the spring. The headboard of the tiny twin bed resting against the wall just under the window looking out to the front yard, posters from his childhood still tacked up crookedly. 

Wooyoung tries very hard not to think about the last time they shared the quilt covered bed of his childhood room. How the last trip here had been the last time Y/N slept in his arms, the last time he laid her bare beneath him. Six months and the memories felt as real as they had when it happened.

Sharing the tiny mattress could only mean trouble for the delicate truce Wooyoung had made with her in the airport.

“I can sleep on the floor.” He offers, unzipping his suitcase for clean clothes to sleep in.

Digging in her own suitcase, Y/N scoffs at the idea. “Don’t be stupid, what if Bibi comes in?”

“She’s gotten better about knocking!”

“Yeah, after she saw us having sex!”

Not like that’s gonna happen again.

“We can share the bed, it’s too cold up here to sleep on the floor.” Y/N says as she grabs her toiletry bag and shuffles to his door. “You’re a diva when you don’t get good sleep.”

“I’m not a diva” Wooyoung whines after her, rebuttal bouncing off the piece of wood separating them. 

When Y/N returns from the bathroom, Wooyoung takes his turn to brush his teeth and wash his face. It’s just for a few days, he reminds himself. She leaves the day after Christmas and after he returns to the city he can tell his family they decided to part ways.

Until then, Wooyoung gathers all the patience he typically reserves for the army of eight year olds he deals with every day in an effort to not descend into insanity.

He finds her balancing on the edge of the narrow mattress, a sliver of space behind her for him to sink into. Neither says anything as the minutes tick by, both refusing to fall asleep despite the fatigue swirling over them attempting to find root. Back to back, Wooyoung stares at the wall as he tries not to listen to the gentle whoosh of Y/N breath.

December 22nd

Y/N

Shuffling into the cold kitchen, you barely crack your eyes open as you beeline for the coffee pot resting on the counter. Wooyoung’s mom greets you from the dining table, eyes scanning her newspaper as you reply with a mumble “morning.”

One would think years of twenty-four hour shifts and early mornings would make waking up easier but you’d sleep all day if given the chance; however, Wooyoung suffocating you like an octopus forced you from the heated sanctuary under the covers and downstairs. Already it was too easy to pretend you were still together. Waking up tangled in him, his face squashed against your sweater clad chest as he snored, blissfully unaware of the budding panic attack you’d calmed with a freezing shower full of choked tears.

Planting your rear in a dark oak dining chair around the table, the jolt of caffeine and sugar lulls your senses awake as you scroll your phone. 

You send a text to your little brother, confirming your parents had made it to their cruise safely while your flight crossed the country. Two weeks in the Caribbean, all expenses paid, sounded a lot better than a week in rural Colorado with your ex-boyfriend. Thankfully, there’s no cell service in the middle of the ocean; so you don’t need to explain to your mother why you were spending Christmas with Wooyoung, who she truly was never fond of to begin with.

Sometime after bed, Lisa sent a string of vaguely threatening emojis and a picture of her yorkie with the Christmas sweater you bought as an early gift. Assuring her Wooyoung had been on his best behavior so far, you switched over to skim your clogged work email.

“Do you want some breakfast, sweetie?” 

“This is fine.” You say, raising your mug.

“How can you be a doctor and try to tell me coffee is a healthy breakfast?”

“I have horrible news if you think doctors have time to do any of the things we tell people they should.”

“Well it’s a good thing you’re here then because you have plenty of time now.”

Wooyoung

Wooyoung hates waking up alone. It feels inexplicably wrong. Especially after sharing an apartment with Y/N for those four years she was in medical school. There’d been plenty of road bumps but spending every night curled up under the comforter with the woman he loved made it all fade to black. He never slept as good as those years.

Except this morning, he wakes up to Y/N’s fingers brushing his hair like she always did when they’d been together, and for a second Wooyoung thinks the entire breakup must’ve been a horrible dream. Wooyoung hadn’t moved a muscle lest the passes of her short nails sending goosebumps down his spine stopped. Eventually, the lazy drags lulled him back into the land of sleep as her heart sang his favorite lullaby.

The second time Wooyoung woke up, she’d been long gone and he felt the familiar emptiness he thought he’d forgotten after all these months apart.

Trudging down the stairs with loud footsteps, Wooyoung spots his mom in the kitchen, mouth spread wide over laughter as Y/N sits at the counter, cradling a mug of steaming coffee. If Wooyoung had to bet, the ceramic mug probably contained more sugar and milk than anything.

“Morning,” he grumbles, forehead resting against the cool marble of the island as he continues to doze in front of the audience.

His mom pats his back as she passes to reach the fridge, “Go sit down, Woo. You're in my way!”

“Everyone is so mean to me,” he pouts, but rounds the counter to sit next to Y/N nonetheless, resting his cheek on her shoulder, feeling her startle at the contact. 

Wooyoung hides a satisfied smirk in her sweater when a hand starts scratching his back under his hoodie. He can almost forget their lying to everyone in the gentle passes of her cold fingers chilling against his hot skin.

 “Your brother is getting in this afternoon so we thought of letting everyone relax until this evening and then having a game night.” His mom calls over her shoulder, busy with the pan heating in the flames of the stove.

“Where’s Kyungmin?”

“He went with Bibi to volunteer at the church this morning.”

“Sucker,” Y/N mumbles for Wooyoung’s ears only, sending him into giggles.

Wooyoung’s grandmother has a particular way of guilting everyone in his family to do exactly what she wants. It’s why he’s sharing his childhood bed with his ex-girlfriend, why his dad keeps the house unbearably warm all year round, and why his little brother is no doubt undergoing military grade interrogation first thing in the morning.

Going to church with Bibi was less about being closer to God and more about being paraded in front of her old lady friends with single granddaughters. Wooyoung had been a victim until he met Y/N, each summer at home more exhausting than the last with not so subtle reminders Ms. So-and-so's granddaughter was very pretty and very available. But the second Wooyoung sent a picture to his mom of the girl he had not so casually started dating fall semester of senior year, his grandmother ceased all effort to set him up. And after she met Y/N at graduation, Wooyoung beamed with the knowledge his entire family not only approved but liked his girlfriend. 

Leaving poor Kyungmin to bare the brunt of Bibi’s well-meaning torture almost made Wooyoung feel guilty. Operative word being almost. Because Wooyoung had survived it, their older brother had survived it, and now it was Kyungmin’s turn to endure the special brand of Jung family meddling.

And the second his family finds out he's technically single, Wooyoung knows it’s only a matter of time before Bibi smothers him in his sleep for breaking up with the girl she considers family. And after, when she resurrects him from the dead, Wooyoung will be thrown to Bibi’s friends like a sacrificial lamb to starving wolves.

Stealing a sip of Y/N’s overly sweet coffee can’t clear his mouth of the sour taste.

“Wooyoung, you need to make up the guest bed for your brother.” His mom says, dropping a plate of eggs and toast on the counter for him and Y/N to share.

“What about her?” Wooyoung asks, lips stretching as he stuffs his face.

“She’s a guest!”

Washing down a harsh swallow with another sip of coffee, Wooyoung mutters a “hardly,” under his breath.

“Get your own!” Y/N snaps, shoving the mug out of his reach.

Wooyoung responds with a high pitched whine, huffing similar to a toddler rather than a man who's almost thirty. “Why are you both being so mean to me? I haven’t even done anything yet.”

Rising to pour his own mug of caffeinated gold, his mom quickly claims the empty chair before she bats Wooyoung away. Claiming something about “girl time” as an excuse to get him out of the kitchen before he can truly annoy them to his fullest potential.

Y/N

When the afternoon rolls around, Bibi greets you with a fierce hug and a grandmotherly pinch to your cheek, smiling up at you as she asks for any and every update since she last saw you in April for her birthday.

Luckily, Kyungmin unconsciously rescues you as he enters the house, boxes piled high in his arms of goodies from the other ladies at church trying to court him on their granddaughter’s behalf. Rushing to his aid, you give him a gentle side hug as you walk with him to the kitchen.

“So…” you start, eyeing the stacks of cookies crowding the counter. “How was church?”

A pained groan answers you, Kyungmin dropping his head to the marble counter with a thud. 

You can’t contain your snicker, snagging one of the deformed gingerbread men to dunk in your fresh cup of coffee.

“Only a few more months,” Kyungmin mutters under his breath, the reprieve of college clearly tethering him to sanity.

Wooyoung told you all about Bibi’s ways when you started dating, thankful to no longer entertain doting mothers and grandmothers interested in him only because he was single and knew basic manners unlike many of the men lurking around Lavensville. Poor Kyungmin didn’t stand a chance if Wooyoung hadn’t managed to charm his way out until he got a girlfriend Bibi approved of.

“At least we get snacks out of it!” You clap, continuing to sort his haul as Kyungmin hides in his arms.

A tan hand sneaks over your shoulder to steal the decapitated cookie still in your grip, turning to see Wooyoung nibbling on arm as he observes the collection of cookies, fruit, and other treats.

“Come on!” You stomp your foot like a toddler.

“Tastes better when it’s stolen.” Wooyoung winks, forcing you and his brother to dry heave in unison. Your reaction isn't genuine, only an effort to hide the squeeze in your chest at how easily he can fall back into old habits after months of radio silence.

Wooyoung’s mom breezes into the kitchen, unbothered by your bickering as she types out a text message.

“Myungho and Mia land in an hour. Your dad is already on the way to pick them up.” She rattles off, more to herself than anyone else. “Kyungmin, you need to tidy all of this up. Wooyoung you already put clean sheets on the guest bed? Great. Y/N, dear, would you mind helping with dinner later?”

“Of course.”

—

Dinner consists of chili you didn’t assist with other than pulling out extra toppings from the fridge for, and everyone chattering around the table. Myungho is sharing some story about his and Mia’s neighbor who refused to close their blinds, everyone laughing at Mia’s grimace when she recalled the horrors of the “tighty-whities” incident. Each time you stay with the Jung’s you're shocked how well they get along, everyone slotting together perfectly like some cheesy sitcom family.

It’s not that your family didn’t love each other, but there was little bonding you together other than shared blood and memories. Your mom clearly favored your brother while your dad tried to make up for the snub by prioritizing you. Growing up with the invisible competition left bitter resentment to this day. At least now, after years of therapy and freedom from the suffocating expectations of your childhood home, you and your brother shared a mutual understanding that it was your parents fault for the animosity between you. Nothing could the damage already deeply ingrained, but you’d become a more united front during family affairs. 

That’d been the first time you and Wooyoung fought in your tentative relationship. He hadn’t seemed to understand how you could talk about your brother with such vitrole, confused why you weren’t more excited to see him after living in the city permanently since sophomore year. Not that you’d explained your family dynamic prior to calling him in a full blown meltdown in Washington Square Park at midnight. But Wooyoung listened. And when you brought up how perfect his family seemed, he quickly corrected your assumption.

Wooyoung knew his parents loved him and his brothers equally. But they were helping him pay thousands of dollars in tuition out of state for him to be a teacher while his older brother made six figures fresh out of college as an engineer. Even if they were happy for him, Wooyoung struggled with the internal conflict of idolizing his brother and feeling like he’d never measure up.

It’d been the first time Wooyoung cried in front of you.

The tense conversation and awkward small talk of your childhood home didn’t seem to have space here at the Jungs, nothing but laughter and warmth filling each nook and cranny. Even the awkwardness of sitting next to your ex-boyfriend, pretending he was still your partner, seemed to be stifled with the company.

“So, Y/N, when are you planning to move back to New York? You finished residency, right?” Mia asks over her glass of wine, eyes bright.

“Ugh,” you stutter, unprepared for such directness.

“Or maybe you’re thinking of moving to Boston?” She eyes Wooyoung.

“We’re, uh,” Wooyoung pipes up, frantically looking at you.

“I’m looking at jobs in the city but nothings come up yet.” 

“That sucks.” Myungho chimes, working to help their father clear the table for games.

Rather than answering, you take a long draw of your drink before rising to hide in the bathroom.

In the silence of the small half bath under the stairs, you attempt to control your stuttering breath. A few splashes of cool water on your face help shock your system but it does nothing to stop the  It’d taken years to perfect the stone-faced facade you presented to families when the outcome was less than favorable. 

A light tap at the door startles you from the nose dive your conscious has taken.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” You call, scrubbing your hands in the sink.

“It’s me,” Wooyoung chirps on the other side of the wood.

Opening the door, Wooyoung leans his shoulder against the jamb, eying you warily. Pulling him into the cramped space, you press the door closed as you lean against.

“I can’t do this, Woo. I can’t lie to them.”

 “Don’t think of it as lying! Just pretend you're back in that drama class in college!”

“Oh, you mean the class I almost failed because I couldn’t act?” You whisper harshly.

“Just let me take the lead okay? All you have to do is be normal.”

Another knock on the door startles you both. When you got so close to Wooyoung, you have no idea, but there are only a scant few inches between you and you can smell the peppermint schnapps on his breath.

“Wooyoung, Y/N. Is everything okay?”

Twisting around your stiff body, Wooyoung nudges you out of the way as he twists the handle and pulls the door inward.

“Yeah,” Wooyoung answers, opening the door to a concerned Bibi. “She wasn’t feeling well.”

Bibi brushes past him, the cool back of her wrinkled hand pressing against your forehead. “Are you okay, dear?”

“I’m fine, just got a little light headed.”

One arm curls around yours, the other gently patting your back as Bibi guides you back towards the kitchen with Wooyoung trailing behind.

“You know, when I was pregnant with Wooyoung’s father I got lightheaded all the time.”

“Oh?” 

Bibi’s implication isn’t lost on you, or Wooyoung for that matter when you hear him curse as he trips behind you.

“Almost everyday I’d have to drink a gallon of ginger tea just to get out of bed.” She guides you into a seat before turning. “I’ll make you cup while the boys set everything up, okay?”

“That’s really not neccess–”

But Bibi is already filling the kettle and rummaging in the cabinets for tea bags as if you didn’t speak at all.

Wooyoung

Cursing his grandmother for making an already tense situation worse, Wooyoung shakes his head as she flutters around the kitchen. Perhaps he should be relieved Bibi moved away from asking when they were getting married and fast forwarding straight to asking for grandchildren. At least Wooyoung hadn’t been as close to being the dad as he was as being a husband. Kids were completely hypothetical; but marriage had almost been a reality.

Kyungmin is already setting up the Scrabble board and dishing out letters. Eight people was far too many so like every year they divide into pairs. Mom and Dad, Myungho and Mia, Kyungmin and Bibi, and him and Y/N.

The board begins to crowd with letters. Bibi and Kyungmin struggle to play anything worth more than fifteen points while his parents brush off challenge after challenge as they fill the board with words like “Paczki” and “Rudistid.”

“Quips, baby! Do you know how hard it is to get rid of a Q?” Mia asks everyone, high fiving Myungho next to her. 

Wooyoung exchanges a conspiratory smile with Y/N before he ruins their celebration. “I know! And when you have a U and an I and every other letter I need for QUILTING on a double word score. Plus bingo for all the tiles we don’t have…Boom 96 points.”

Arms thrown around each other's shoulders, he bounces up and down with Y/N in victory. Their cheeks squish together, matching bright tipsy grins pulled across their lips. Almost like everything is normal.

“No fair! You’re an English teacher!” Kyungmin protests, nostrils flared.

“Yeah to third graders, Minnie. You know just as many words as they do, I promise.”

Y/N doesn’t move from his hold except to take another swig of the tea his grandmother made her. Wooyoung tries not to think about what it means; having an arm curled around the back of her chair while she settles into the crook of his chest, watching his family over the top of her head, relaxing firm pressure of her body against his own. Taking the tentative peace for granted, Wooyoung greedily overindulges in the illusion of normalcy.

December 23rd

Y/N

In the cool toned light of the snowy dawn, you wake in Wooyoung’s arms once again. This time you're both on your sides, Wooyoung pressed firmly behind you as he snores in your ear. A familiar lump pokes against your rear, scorching your skin through the layers of clothes that serepate you.

Wiggling in his grip, you're ashamed of the quiet moan fleeing your lips as Wooyoung flexes his arms to hold you tighter, his hips rolling against you harshly to pin you to him.

Blame it on the months without feeling another person’s touch, or the liminal space that exists when the world is asleep and void of any real consequences, but a hollowness stings your core and dampens your panties.

Years of dating meant years of exploring one another’s bodies, discovering every spot that drove the other mad and perfecting the balance of teasing and satisfaction. You still remember the first night in your shared apartment years ago; Wooyoung blindfolded and tied to the bed, putty under your fingers as you rode him until your eyes felt permanently crossed and your legs numb. And just when you thought the night was over, sated with his cum leaking onto the sheets, Wooyoung knotted the silk scarf around your own wrist and “cleaned up” the mess between your thighs until you actually blacked out.

The very memory has you arching backwards, clenching around nothing but disappointing emptiness.

It’s wrong. So so so wrong. To fantasize about your ex-boyfriend while he’s asleep next to you, none the wiser to your stuttered breath and pounding heart.

But the way his hand on your stomach fists the fabric of your shirt, pulling you into him again, beckons you closer to the edge of temptation. Wooyoung told you to act natural. What’s more natural than enjoying some half asleep heavy petting? You’re already pretending to date him, why not reap some of the old benefits you’d missed in your time apart?

Just as you turn in Wooyoung’s arms, set on waking him with an offer even he can’t refuse, he yawns awake. Arms stretching high, he pushes you from the toasty covers and onto the floor with a bang!

“Jesus Christ!” You groan, jolting pain in your elbow shocking your system as it catches the edge of the bed frame.

Wooyoung’s head pops over the side of the mattress, “Why’re you down there?”

Scoffing, the back of your head thuds against the floor; eyes sinking shut as you fight the urge to murder him. Three more days and you’ll never have to deal with the ridiculousness that follows Wooyoung like a shadow. 

You hear, rather than see, Wooyoung exit into the hallway. Stretching your lungs around another deep breath, you follow behind him. Passing the bathroom door as you pad down stairs, you're greeted with an empty kitchen. The stove clock reads just past nine so more bodies should trickle in soon, called by the coffee you’ve begun brewing. Sending a silent prayer to the universe, you prepare for quality time with Mrs. Jung and Mia. Another day of lying to the people who treat you better than your own family. 

Wonderful.

Wooyoung

Like a teenager with his first wet dream, Wooyoung hides in the sanctuary of the bathroom.Thankfully, his brothers aren’t prone to waking before noon and he stakes his claim by locking the door and entering the steam.

Maybe dry humping his ex-girlfriend while half asleep was a bad idea but Wooyoung knows she pushed back into him with a purpose. He’d heard the whimper she tried to silence, felt her press her legs together the way she did when she was wet and needed his help.

Wooyoung hadn’t meant to launch her to the floor but overdue break up sex with the rest of the house due to wake up any minute couldn’t be a good idea. And with three more days of their charade Wooyoung needed less complications, not more.

But the knowledge of how wrong he should feel doesn’t stop the memories of them together from placating his mind as he palms his aching cock. Months of abstinence fail to dissolve Wooyoung’s photorealistic memories of his ex-girlfriend in compromising positions; bent in half to take his cock, staring down her nose as she sits in his lap. And his personal favorite, Y/N on her knees, eyes watering as her swollen lips stretch around his length, the flared head nudging the back of her throat.

The swiftnesses of his orgasm is a fatal blow against his fragile ego. Biting the meat of his fist, Wooyoung watches his cum sink down the drain. Unfortunately, the confusion pulsing through him doesn’t follow.

—

As Wooyoung descends to the living room, he spots his dad and his brothers watching a documentary on the Discovery channel. Sinking into the worn leather of their ancient couch, he cracks open one of the books he brought from home. Brave New World wasn’t light reading, but he’d been meaning to give it a try since Yeosang recommended it to him and what better way to spend his free time? 

Soon enough, his dad snores from his spot in the recliner, chin tipped back against the headrest. Kyungmin remains entranced by the colorful birds dancing across the screen while his other brother no doubt taps away at work emails cluttering his phone despite the holidays. It’s the kind of peace and content Wooyoung loved about his family. Co-existing without needing to interact, enjoying each other's presence while living their own lives.

Y/N

The acrid sting of acetone and nail polish burn your nose under the harsh white lights of the nail salon. Mia is happily chattering away, blasting through any stilled pauses or awkward silences. Bibi and Mrs. Jung sit at the counter getting their nails painted by the attendants in calm silence.

You try not to kick the young woman scrub your foot as she brushes against your ticklish nerves, squirming in your seat as she gives a tight lipped smile at your discomfort. For a week off for Christmas you cashed in every favor, picked up every single on call asked of you, nearly breaking under the demand to stretch yourself so thin as the new doctor in your department. The horrific results of hours on your feet were being ground down and clipped before you. 

Relaxing was… difficult for you. Or other peoples’ definition of relaxation was. To you, the perfect day off was running around town, hitting an early morning pilates class followed by an overpriced coffee and finding something to do in the city that offered everything. Sitting still was a necessary evil to get to and fro but it left you to stew with your thoughts you preferred to drown in an overwhelming weight of activity.

“Y/N,” Mia calls, bringing you to turn and look at her. 

Her usually glowing face is apprehensive, lip worried between her teeth and eyes downcast.

“Yeah?” 

“You work with kids, right?”

“All day.” You laugh, trying to break the tension.

Mia hesitates, struggling to find the words she wants to say. “After all the stuff you’ve seen, do you still want them?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you and Wooyoung think you’ll have kids someday?”

“I mean not anytime soon considering…”

That we aren’t together. You finish in your mind.

But Mia assumes the unspoke truth is the fact you’re supposed to be living in Boston while Wooyoung is living in New York.

“I mean of course, but like you guys both work with kids and I feel like you know the worst that could happen! My friend Mina just had her baby and she says she can’t sleep. She just sits up all night watching him because she’s afraid somethings gonna happen.”

“Mia, are you and Myungho?”

“Not yet,” she smiles. “But we’ve been talking about it more and I know I want that with him but I’m just—”

“Scared?”

She nods sheepishly.

Hesitating as you weigh your next words carefully, you think about all the conversations you’ve had with worried parents. Most of the kids and parents you met were under less than positive circumstances. Babies with underdeveloped lungs, toddlers who couldn’t breath from just sitting up. You’d be lying if it didn’t make you question having your own. The powerlessness you felt when no matter how hard you worked to fix things it was all for naught. 

But all of the bad days don't outweigh the good ones. When NICU preemies got to leave the ward with their families for the first time. Having a child take their first full breath because their medication was finally starting to work. The plethora of thank you cards hanging on your fridge and displayed in your office from the families you’d helped.

And you remember all the stories Wooyoung told you about his classroom. Kids who could barely read falling in love with the books he gave to them, hounding him for more stories. When he made way with a problem child, watching them begin to excel under his gentle guidance. Giggling at Wooyoung hiding his tears at the end of year advancement ceremony when all his third graders became fourth graders every year.

“I think being scared means you care. And you can always call me if you’re worried, no matter what happens.”

“I’ll definitely take you up on that.” Mia laughs.

“You’re gonna be a great mom.” You whisper, squeezing her arm.

Mia squeezes your hand back, “I always wondered what it’d be like to have a sister.”

“Me too.”

You look away as Mia blinks, breathing away the wetness glossing your own eyes.

—

Upon returning home, you find all four men passed out in various positions in the living room. Mr. Jung in the recliner that predates your birth, mouth wide open and glasses crooked on his nose. Sprawled across the floor is Kyungmin, gangly teenage limbs starfished to the edges of the carpet. Wooyoung and Myungho share a blanket across their laps, both with their backs on opposite sides of the couch. 

You four try to contain your laughter at the sight. If there was any doubt about who fathered the Jung boys, the shaggy black hair and symphony of identical snores would easily lay those rumors to rest. 

Bibi shuffles down the hall to her room, claiming a nap to be a great idea after the pampering from the nail salon. Mia and Mrs. Jung head into the kitchen, each teething with bulging bags of groceries for tonight's gingerbread competition.

But you can’t take your eyes off Wooyoung. The only time he ever looked so peaceful was when he was sleeping, face positively boyish and missing the stress induced wrinkles from managing a class of eight year olds. The urge to cross to him and kiss the freckle on his lower lip floods your brain but you’re able to stuff it down when he whines in his sleep, twisting to re-adjust on the lumpy couch.

Following the shuffle of plastic bags echoing from the kitchen, you busy yourself with unpacking the boxes of pre-made gingerbread houses, candy, and tubes of icing. Neatly organizing the packages on the counter, Mrs. Jung pushes you and Mia upstairs as she starts to prepare dinner.

The clock on the stove shows it’s closing in on three, giving you enough time to shower and have a nap of your own before the mayhem of the evening.

Cranking the faucet to the highest setting, you waste no time waiting for it to heat as you jump under the cold water. Wooyoung called you a psychopath the first time he witnessed you shower routine but you’d been busy applying for medical school, working in the student health center, and tutoring in the biology lab, all while maintaining a perfect GPA in the fall semester of your senior year; you didn’t have time for the simple pleasures of wasting precious minutes while your apartment’s old pipes struggled to carry hot water through the faucet. And as they say, old habits die hard.

The chill brings sharp clarity with it. It’d only been two days and you’d already fallen into the same bickering as before, been tempted to kiss him when no one was around to fool, and nearly fucked him in his childhood bed. 

Three more days. You think, shivering lessening as steam billows around you. 

Then you can leave this entire maddening ordeal behind you forever.

Wooyoung

The squeeze of Wooyoung’s heart threatens to topple him to his knees at the sight of Y/N curled up in his bed. His old college hoodie circles her face, lips pouted and eyebrows furrowed at whatever dream world she’s lost in. 

Wooyoung aches to wake her up with innocent kisses as he holds her to his chest, fingers ironing out the wrinkles of her forehead as she breaches the surface of sleep. To smile at her whines of protest of being interrupted from a rare opportunity to rest without worrying about work or some other responsibility.

But what Wooyoung wants, he doesn’t deserve. As bold and indulgent as he might be in front of the prying eyes of his family, he isn’t cruel. Even if it kills him not to touch her like he used to be able to, Wooyoung won’t subject her to the torture of his feelings. It’s the least he can do for pulling Y/N into this sham after ending their relationship without explanation. 

“Y/N,” he whispers, fingers prodding her shoulder. “Gotta wake up.”

She responds with a throaty groan, pulling the edge of the blanket over her head to hideaway.

“C’mon it's almost time for dinner.” 

“Youngie, it’s cold.” Y/N protests as he tries to lift the covers.

Grinding his teeth against the nickname, Wooyoung continues to pry the quilt from her iron grip.

“I can get Bibi up here.”

Flying into a seated position, she blinks against the overhead light. “I’m up!” 

“That’s what I thought.” Wooyoung smirks, crossing to the door. “Let’s go sunshine.”

Y/N mutters empty threats under her breath the entire way to the kitchen, so close she’s cast in his shadow under the threat of Bibi’s wake up methods. Nothing like a woman pushing eighty banging pots over your head to get the blood pumping.

Everyone else already crowds the table, picking apart the trays of snacks as they organize their supplies kits. 

Jung family tradition requires everyone, sans Bibi, to decorate their own house according to the year's theme. After an hour, she picks her favorite and the winner has the honor of opening the first present on Christmas morning. Y/N demolished Myungho’s long standing winning streak the first year she entered the competition; Mia taking her place the next year in Y/N’s absence. Since then, Kyungmin reigned supreme despite his creation looking like a haunted house no matter what the theme was.

“Alright,” Bibi stands once Wooyoung and Y/N have taken their seats at the end of the table. “This year's theme is movies. On your mark, get set. Go!”

A room full of adults, plus Kyungmin who's only a few months short, should act with a sense of decorum and dignity. A fair and clean competition in the name of holiday spirit, family, and comradery.

But Jung house rules mean cheating is not only expected, it’s encouraged.

The table is warzone. Icing dripping off the sides and onto the tile floor. Candies trailing everywhere like shrapnel. Mia hides a piece of Myungho’s roof in her lap, and their mom steals the level their dad insists on using every year. Even Kyungmin slowly starts hoarding the bags of colorful royal frosting one by one in the pocket of his hoodie before anyone can notice.

Wooyoung catches Y/N attempting to eat his bag of gumdrops in his periphery. Their half gone by the time he’s noticed but he simply laughs under his breath. What she doesn’t know is that those are her gumdrops and his are stashed under the table since they sat down.

The little sugar addict is nothing if not predictable.

Most of the houses are beginning to take shape, albeit much more loose definitions of whatever each person decided to do. Kyungmin’s house is poop green with a red roof, streaks of color patchy against the brown cookie sheets. His mom sticks with the traditional decorations instructed on the packaging, no doubt prepared to argue it somehow fits the theme despite being the same every year. Mia’s is laced garishly with pink and pastels, while Myungho crumbles pieces of his for whatever godforsaken reason.

Wooyoung focuses on decorating his tiny gingerbread man with black slashes and stripes.

“Time!” yells Bibi as she whacks the bottom of a pot with a wooden spoon, everyone drops their last piece of candy before hands fly up.

As always, his mom manages to be the only one to finish due to years of practice. Everyone else’s houses are… interesting.

“Mine’s the Grinch,” Kyungmin says.

“The Grinch?” Y/N asks, confused by the horrendous green and red abomination.

“See, you get it!” 

Shaking her head, Y/N points to her own monstrosity. “Okay, so the yellow skittles are the yellow brick road and the green on the house is meant to look like the Emerald City from Wizard of Oz.”

Perhaps if the Emerald City burned to the ground and became ruins but everyone nods at the vision.

“Mine is supposed to be Barbie's Dream house.” says Mia, gesturing to the mound of pink frosting sliding from the roof.

Myungho slams a toy dinosaur from their childhood on top of his pile of cookie pieces before declaring, “Jurassic Park.”

“Home Alone,” his mom chimes.

A chorus of groans around the table answer.

His dad’s is covered in chocolate bars and marshmallows. It looks decent but Wooyoung doesn’t get it until he tells them it’s “Willy Wonka.”

Nodding in appreciation, Wooyoung presents his.

“Nightmare Before Christmas.”

The gray and black icing swirl to make a ugly blob, but Wooyoung will argue it’s exactly what he was going for. Especially with his miniscule Jack Skellington perched in the yard.

Bibi circles the table, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at each entry. She shakes her head at Kyungmin, clearly disappointed in his failure this year. 

“Eunkyung wins!” She cheers, raising his mom’s hand like she won a boxing match.

Claps and whoops fill the kitchen as she beams, proud to win a second time in the history of the competition. 

“Wooyoung, put the winning house on the mantel please.” His dad asks, already moving towards the pantry for trash bags.

“Your majesty.” Wooyoung bows in front of his mom, laughing when she slaps his shoulder.

What he fails to realize is Y/N is leaving the same door he is, and that a sprig of green leaves sit just above their heads.

“Mistletoe!” his mom squeals.

“Huh?” Grunts Y/N, confused.

Wooyoung looks up and spots the infuriating piece of decoration, another pair of eyes trailing after his own. 

If they were still dating, Wooyoung would swoop her into his arms and make an entire production of giving her a short peck on the cheek, his parents were watching after all, while Y/N laughed at his ridiculousness. But now he hesitates as he looks into her eyes, barely missing the nod as she leaves a brief kiss on his lips before turning and leaving the room.

Even under the brief contact, Wooyoung’s lips feel like they’ve been zapped with lightning; his entire body on high alert. So lost in his own world, Wooyoung doesn’t realize he watches her walk away until she’s turning a corner and is out of sight. 

Remembering the gingerbread house still in his hand, Wooyoung continues into the living room to place it front and center on the mantel. 

Y/N

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! You think, watching yourself in the mirror as you brush your teeth.

You’d spent the rest of the night sweaty and flushed, stuttering like an idiot because of a G-rated kiss with your ex-boyfriend for crying out loud. 

What was wrong with you? 

It was like the butterflies of the beginning of your relationship were waking from dormancy, demanding to let loose in your chest.

But none of this is real. Wooyoung only reached out so Bibi wouldn’t be upset over a last minute cancellation. He didn’t ask to explain why he ended your relationship so suddenly. Didn’t try to weasel his way back in and kiss everything better. All the touching and joking you’d missed so much were nothing more than an elaborate plan for Wooyoung to not be seen as the bad guy by his family. His way of delaying the inevitable. 

And you’d fallen right into the mess subconsciously hoping it might have meant something more. 

The foaming residue of toothpaste splashes against the porcelain sink as you finish washing up. Hiding in the bathroom can only buy you so much time before you have to face Wooyoung again, a new feast of tension waiting for you on a silver platter.

His tiny room is notably empty. Wooyoung nowhere to be seen as you burrow into the blankets. Hopefully, he stays away until you're fully unconscious and able to avoid the entire ordeal.

—

A draft of frigid air invading the warm haze under your mountain of quilts wakes you. Wooyoung shushes your indignant protest, pulling the top layers off. His weight doesn’t dip the bed behind you. Instead, you listen as he shuffles around, the dull thud of pillows and blankets hitting the floor. When he quiets, you turn to see him curled into a ball on a makeshift sleeping matt next to the bed. 

The questions burn on the tip of your tongue. Why is he sleeping on the floor? Was he that upset about the kiss? 

But you don’t ask and Wooyoung doesn’t provide an answer.

December 24th

Wooyoung

Christmas eve is Wooyoung’s favorite part of the holidays. Not even a poor night sleep on the freezing unforgiving floor can dull his excitement. 

He’d risen early, sneaky out of the room the second the sun peaked from the horizon and illuminated the space. Y/N slept soundly, back turned away from him as he evaded her successfully.

A fresh powder of snow fell sometime in the night. So with a hot cup of coffee and a need to get lost in something mindlessly physical, Wooyoung heads to the garage for a shovel to clear the sidewalk and driveway.

Wooyoung knows he should apologize to her. She’d basically avoided him after they got caught under the mistletoe, scurrying upstairs the second it was polite for her to do so. Technically, she kissed him. But the entire situation wouldn’t exist if he didn’t put his foot in his mouth.

Plus, the entire ordeal of yesterday morning couldn’t be ignored. And Wooyoung was ashamed he didn’t feel ashamed.

Mind numb in the cold monotony of moving slush from the concrete to the yard, muscles burning at the strain, Wooyoung loses track of time as the sun moves across the sky.

His dad finds him shoveling the end of the driveway, pants soaked and breath heaving. 

“You okay, kid?” the older man asks, sipping his thermos.

“Fine,” Wooyoung pants. “Why?”

“Because you’re out here.”

“Just helping out.”

“Wooyoung.” A sharp sternness to his tone as his dad’s gloved hands halt the shovel.

He hates that voice. Wooyoung’s dad was soft spoken and good natured, the quietest member of their boisterous family. Always gentle with three rowdy sons that constantly pushed the endless bounds of his patience. Wooyoung can count on one hand the times his dad used this voice on him. Apparently now is one of those times.

Wooyoung looks his dad in the eye before lying to his face, “I’m fine. Really.”

Eying his son skeptically, Wooyoung’s dad clearly doesn’t believe him. 

“Alright.” he drawls. “But come inside, your mom made pancakes.”

Y/N

“Come on Kyungmin, we don’t want to be late!” Bibi calls from the hallway.

In front of you, Kyungmin blanches; terrified of another day surrounded by prodding grandmothers. He looks at you for help, but you offer a sympathetic smile and a shrug of shoulders. If only he knew how much torture you were being subjected to in the name of keeping Bibi happy.

Wooyoung had been scarce since the early hours of the morning, slaving away at clearing the driveway alone. He made a brief appearance at breakfast and lunch but found any excuse to stay faraway from whatever room you planted yourself in. 

Taking the hint, you set up camp in the kitchen. Laptop screen reflecting off your blue-light glasses as you skimmed another journal article about forced oscillation technique and impulse oscillometry. Fascinating as it was to you, it’s just boring enough to anyone else to keep them away; allowing you to waste away the entire afternoon in the most productive way possible.

The sun is already setting by the time others begin to trickle into the kitchen. Mia begins filling snack trays for the trademark movie night; half sweet, half savory. While Myungho sets to work on a batch of mulled cider they picked up at the market.

Kyungmin stomps into the kitchen with a fuming Bibi hot on his heels.

“They’re nice girls, Kyungmin. There was no need to be rude!”

Your wide eyes meet Mia's twin expressions of shock. The youngest was a sweet kid; perhaps he had an attitude sometimes, but he was a teenager after all. To hear he’s been out right rude and in front of Bibi no less, comes as a surprise.

“You’re crazy!” Kyungmin yells, arms waving wildly before he flees to his room.

The sudden silence of the kitchen is rattling. No one moves or speaks as Bibi starts organizing random objects and mail on the counter, clearly uncomfortable with her grandson’s outburst.

Slipping from your chair, you turn to follow in the direction you know he’s bound for.

—

Winter in Colorado is brutal enough, but the wind slicing across your cheeks as you teeter out a tiny window onto the roof at the back of the house makes you regret wearing only a sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. 

Kyungmin’s lone figure is illuminated in the silver moonlight. A telltale stench fills your nostrils despite the thick smoke evaporating in the wind the second it leaves his mouth. Waddling towards him on your butt, you stop next to him. He passes the glass bowl into your waiting hand without a peep. 

You take a long hit before speaking, allowing the tingle of THC to flutter through your veins. 

“Wanna talk about it?” You ask, cradling your knees to your chest in an effort to conserve warmth.

“No.”

“Okay.”

The thick woods fencing in the backyard bends in the wind. Pine trees shake the fronds like feathers, fluffing up as the wind flutters by. A lone swing, attached to a rickety playground set, swings back and forth. It’s beautiful and eerie. Only your breath and the occasional cough from Kyungmin disturbs the fragile place.

“I can’t wait to go to college.” Kyungmin mutters from under his hood.

“Have you heard from anywhere yet?”

“No. But I don’t care where I go as long as I’m not here.”

“Was it that bad?”

“She’s crazy! All of them in that fucking church are insane!”

“Wooyoung told me the same thing.” You chuckle.

“They just stare at me. It’s creepy.” 

“Yeah, that sounds pretty creepy.”

“And Andi just laughs whenever I try to tell her about it.”

“Who’s Andi?”

“A friend.” 

Kyungmin’s tense response tells you Andi isn’t just a friend at all.

“What's she like?”

“She’s nice. She’s in my history class at school.”

“Oh?”

“And she got a scholarship to play soccer in Georgia.”

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah, she is.”

“So you like her?”

“I mean, of course I do. She’s my best friend.”

“Kyungmin…”

“It doesn’t matter. She’s so out of my league.” Kyungmin sighs.

“Why do you think that?”

“She’s smart, and she’s athletic, and she’s funny. She wouldn’t see me like that.”

“Okay.” You nod, “Well, when Bibi started pimping you out at church, what did Andi do?”

“She got really mad when I went on a date with one of them.”

“Oh, really?”

“She didn’t talk to me for like two weeks. I thought she was just, like, on her period or something.”

Shaking your head, you turn to face the ignorant boy. “Alright, first things first. Never, under any circumstances, assume a girl is mad at you because she’s on her period. Ask your brothers or your dad how that's worked out for them. Second, how would you feel if Andi went on a date with someone?”

Face twisting in disgust, Kyungmin grabs the piece again to take a hit.

“Exactly. Maybe you should ask her on a date.”

Kyungmin snorts at the idea, “Yeah, sure.”

“Party out here?” Myungo calls from the window.

Turning, you spot Wooyoung and Mia peaking around his broad shoulders.

“Yeah but it’s B.Y.O.W.”

“Perfect.” He calls back, folding in half to step on the roof.

“Just think about what I said, okay?”

“Okay.” Kyungmin promises as he links his pinky with yours.

Mia and Myungho land on Kyungmin’s other side, a joint visible in Mia’s dainty fingers. Wooyoung plops down next to you, lifting the bowl from Kyungmin and dumping the ash on to the roof.

As he focuses on packing it, you get your first glimpse of him all day. The tip of his nose is red and he keeps sniffling, no doubt from the hours he spent outside or in the garage doing who knows what. Wooyoung’s hair is a mess of tangles, sticking this way and that in the wind and you choke on the urge to straighten it for him. 

You’ve never been good at staying mad at him, even when he’s clearly in the wrong. And what’s worse is Wooyoung knows it. 

Wisps of smoke pour from his nostrils before he passes you the bowl again. Shaking your head, Kyungmin plucks it from his brother’s fingers.

You feel Wooyoung’s breath caress the shell of your ear before he speaks.

“What are you guys doing out here?” He whispers.

“Bibi.” You whisper back.

Wooyoung nods lazily, eyes glazed already. Landing on his back, he looks up to the sky. 

The pale light sharpens his features. Strange how all three brothers looked so similar yet different. Kyungmin still had the round cheeks of adolescents, limbs gangly as he towers over his brothers at only seventeen. Myungho was broader than both but only a fraction taller than Wooyoung, square jaw and cropped hair. But Wooyoung was all angles and sharpness. Even from the first night he approached you in that dingy karaoke bar near campus, you knew he was handsome. But now he looks ethereal. Like some beautiful demon coming to take your soul and laugh all the while. 

Eventually you all end up shoulder to shoulder, each lost and thought and staring at the lonely full moon above. Wooyoung’s hand brushes your own, sending throbbing jolts of electricity through your body. Hooking your pointer finger around his, Wooyoung sighs next to you before settling. 

It somehow hurts worse than if he would have let go.

Wooyoung

Exhaustion and pot nearly knock Wooyoung out as he passes his bedroom door. An early night, lost in the land of dreams where he doesn’t have to think about why he can’t look Y/N in the eye; why he felt a punch in the gut when he spotted her on the roof with his little brother, taking care of him like Kyungmin was her own family; how he wanted to cry when her fingers circled his own. 

Wooyoung’s attempt to uncomplicate his life only seemed to tighten the noose around his neck.

Jung family tradition dictates a Christmas movie with gross amounts of sugary snacks on Christmas Eve. The tradition started before Wooyoung could remember but it’d been his favorite all the same. What little kid didn’t cherish the opportunity to wake up to Santa dropping presents under the tree? Not that he or his brothers managed to stay awake more than half way through whatever movie his parents pulled from the dusty DVD collection on the bookshelf. But as he grew older, Wooyoung appreciated the uninterrupted time he was gifted to spend with his family, especially with each of them living in separate corners of the country.

The new set of matching pajamas every year were simply a bonus.

This year’s boast a deep green with a vintage Christmas light pattern. The inner flannel is positively delightful against Wooyoung’s freezing skin, lulling him into a light doze as leans against the couch between Y/N’s spread legs. 

Kyungmin sprawls in his usual place on the rug in front of the coffee table, glazed eyes glued to Will Ferell terrorizing New York City in yellow tights. Mia and Myungho are off on the other side of the couch, Bibi taking the middle seat. His parents are snug in his dad’s recliner, resembling two teenagers rather than the fifty year olds they really are. Adorably disgusting how in love they still are. 

Resting his cheek against Y/N’s knee, Wooyoung twists his hands in his lap. He can’t touch her. Not sober and absolutely not high out of his mind like he is at this very moment. Because if he starts, Wooyoung is too weak to stop himself. And considering the way she keeps staring at him every time she thinks he isn’t looking, Wooyoung doesn’t think Y/N would want him to stop either. 

—

Bedtime is the same awkward dance as before. His entire family pulls each other into tight hugs, mostly aided by the edibles Myungho slipped them before they all descended downstairs. Calls of “Love you,” and “see you in the morning,” land against his back as he trails behind Y/N.

They get ready for bed in the dark, flashes of bare skin visible in the light trickling in from the cracked curtains covering the lonely window. Turning to face the wall, Wooyoung plugs in his phone while he listens for her to land on the mattress.

When the shuffling ceases, he finds her in a nest on the floor, back towards him.

“What are you doing?”

“You took the floor last night.”

“You don’t hav–”

“Just go to bed.” She bites, voice fragile.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” he huffs, temper rising as he crosses to the other side of the mattress.

“I’m fine.” 

“Just take the bed.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Sitting up, Wooyoung barely makes out her scowl. “Why do I need to explain everything to you?”

“Why are you being so stubborn?”

“I’m stubborn? Me?”

“Considering you’re the one on the floor while the bed is empty, yes you’re the stubborn one.”

“Because I’m fine here!”

Wooyoung wades through the quicksand of his brain for a response. Upon finding none, he flops on the pile of blankets next to her.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping. Now shut up.”

“Wooyoung,” she sighs.

No more energy to fight, Wooyoung burrows deeper into the mound of quilts; set to sleep next to her on the floor if she continues to refuse the bed. If he was a diva on poor sleep, Y/N was a menace. She’d cave eventually when her hips ached from the painful stiffness of the unbending wood.

Except Wooyoung can’t sleep. All of his nerves are heightened next to her. His entire left side burns in her heat, acutely aware of every shift of her weight or rustle of the blankets. Wooyoung’s lips still burn from their kiss. A childish brush against his mouth but he can’t stop replaying it in his mind over and over. And when he thinks about yesterday morning, when he dreamed about her and then woke up flushed against her, it all makes his blood rush to his head and a weight settles on the back of his tongue.

When Y/N stops twitching beneath the covers behind him, breath even and shallow, Wooyoung finally follows her into sleep.

December 25th

Wooyoung

Christmas morning brings Bibi through the upstairs hallway with a familiar wooden spoon and small tin pot. Wooyoung hears the first crash slide under the crack beneath his door, an ice bath to his system.

He’s still on the floor, a foot between him and Y/N. 

“Get up.” Wooyoung shakes her, not wasting a second as he stands to dive into the still made bed.

She groans in the morning light, eyes crusted as she looks for the disturbance.

Another shrill beat sings through the hall. Much closer to Wooyoung’s door than last time.

“Shit!” 

Y/N tackles him into the pillows. Both attempting to look natural as the door rebounds against the wall, a well rested Bibi standing in the doorway.

“RISE AND SHINE!” His grandmother wails, drumming a rhythmless beat and she turns to stalk towards Kyungmin’s room at the end of the hall.

Dual sighs of relief leave their lips, Y/N rising to stalk to the bathroom without looking back.

Y/N

Mrs. Jung’s victory grants her the privilege of opening the first present this morning. Everyone gathers around, matching states of messy hair and bed-wraggled pajamas, to shred shiny wrapping paper at ten in the morning.

Her first gift is the large rectangle box addressed from her sons, all of them failing to stifle their matching laughter as she slowly unwraps the picture frame. You and Mia had helped arrange the picture last time everyone was together for Bibi’s birthday, sneaking out of the house with the excuse of seeing a movie when you drove to the mall for an old school photoshoot at the department store. 

Wooyoung’s parents join in the giggling bouncing of the walls as they take in all three boys dressed head to toe in denim, arms wrapped around on another’s waists prom-date style as they stare dead faced at the camera. The cherry on top is their matching bowl cuts, making them resemble a nineties boy band. Another frame slips out of the paper, a similar photo of you and Mia except her chin rests on top of your head, eyes obscured by yellow tinted sunglasses.

“Oh my god,” Mrs. Jung guffaws. “You all are ridiculous.”

Passing the frames around the room, Mrs. Jung takes turns hugging her sons along with you and Mia. 

“Oh, my girls. Thank you for putting up with them.” She whispers into your ears, Mia on her left and you on her right. 

You refuse to think about how tomorrow you’ll leave their house for the last time as you squeeze her back tightly. 

As the youngest, Kyungmin is charged with passing out rounds of presents while Mr. Jung collects the discarded ribbons and paper. Thankfully, bringing a gift for Wooyoung wasn’t an expectation. Why sacrifice sacred luggage space to exchange gifts with someone who lives in your backyard? Mia and Myungho never brought their gifts for one another, and you and Wooyoung followed suit.

But that didn’t stop you from braving the hoards of the city in an effort to last minute Christmas shopping before flying out. Bibi loves the fancy lotion you brought her, and Kyungmin is more than satisfied with the promise of whatever new video he can afford with a Playstation gift card. Wooyoung’s parents leaf through the books you bought in a last ditch effort to provide some sort of parting gift. Myungho screams as he unwraps the mug with “IBS: I be shitting” blasted across the front and Mia opens each tin of specialty tea for a whiff of the herbal scents.

Hours later, surrounded in the disarray of boxes and bows, Mrs. Jung announces it’s time for brunch. Everyone takes turns washing up or teetering upstairs to brush their teeth but she pulls you aside before you have a chance to follow.

“Y/N, we have one last gift for you.” She whispers, removing a small box from behind her back. “I didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone just in case but I want you to know how much we all love you.”

You pull out a cardboard box and a thick card.

“To my future Daughter in Law,

There isn’t a single day I don’t thank the stars for how lucky my son is to find someone as incredible as you. He’s a better person because of you and our family is so blessed to have you in it. I was lucky enough to be given three amazing sons but now I’m fortunate enough to have two daughters as well. 

Love, Mrs. Jung”

Each word is a new punch to the gut, tears swelling in the corner of tight eyes. Focusing on opening the box in an effort not to break down in the hallway, you unveil a simple silver chain with a knotted pendant. The same you’ve seen Mia and Mrs. Jung wear on special occasions.

“Oh, I can’t—”

“Nope. I won’t hear a word of it! It’s family tradition. Bibi gave me mine, and now I get to give you yours.”

“But I really—”

But Wooyoung’s mom is a force to be reckoned with. Slipping the delicate piece of jewelry out of the box, she slips it around your neck and straightens it before you can stop her. When she’s happy, you fall into her arms in a fierce hug as you weep into her shoulder.

“Oh sweetie,” she coos, patting your back comfortingly; clearly thinking you're overcome with emotion at officially being a part of the family.

You don’t correct her. Why ruin such a heartfelt moment by shattering the illusion now that you're so close to the end? Instead, you take comfort in her embrace, willing the tears to stop with the same principle you use in the hospital: save the crying for the shower.

Stepping out of the hug, you allow her to wipe away the trails of tears marring your cheeks with soft swipes of her thumbs, a soft smile at her tutting over you. Mrs. Jung pulls you into one last bear hug before pushing you upstairs to compose yourself.

Wooyoung stares as you pass him on the stairs, evidently alarmed at the evidence of your crying. But you keep your eyes down as you trudge by. 

Wooyoung

Wooyoung can’t help but worry at what happened between presents and breakfast to make Y/N so upset but his mom keeps squeezing her shoulder and Bibi just smiles knowingly in her direction. The new necklace circling her neck is familiar but Wooyoung can’t place why and he hasn’t had the opportunity to ask. 

Crowding into the living room as the sun sets, he doesn’t miss the way Mia intertwines Y/N into a fierce squeeze, practically bouncing off the walls with giddiness. He doesn’t have time to ask what it’s about before another movie is starting on the TV to wind down for the evening.

He can feel the tension rolling off her in waves next to him. Muscles locked and leg jittering the same way it did before she had to take her MCAT or open exam results. When the screen fades to black, Y/N is up the stairs and out of sit before he can blink.

Following her up, Wooyoung finds her perched on the edge of his bed, fingers stroking the pendant resting between her collarbones. Shut in the quiet of his room, Wooyoung asks the question that’s buzzed in his veins all day.

“What’s the necklace about?”

“Your mom gave it to me.”

“I thought so.” He nods. “But why was everyone acting weird about it?”

Rather than answer, Y/N hands him a note. Wooyoung recognizes the tight cursive of his mom’s handwriting. Regret trickles down his spine and bubbles over with each word. He’d never meant to be cruel when he asked Y/N to come here but then again he didn’t think about how hard this must have been for her. To secretly say goodbye to his family and their relationship after she was already working through it on her own. He should have known she was bottling it all up, the same way he was prone to.

“I didn’t realize she’d—”

“Why did you break up with me?” She asks, still staring at the floor.

Regret transforms into the shame that’s eaten him alive for months. Wooyoung’s mouth won’t form the truth for what he did so he lies.

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit!” She bites, glazed eyes blazing as she rounds on him. “Eight years. We dated for eight years and you think you can tell me you don’t know why?”

“We dated for eight years and you didn’t even say anything when I did it! You just left.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! What was I supposed to do? Beg you to stay?”

“You just gave up.”

“No, you gave up!” her voice cracks, finger pointing accusingly. “I didn’t even know we were having problems.”

“Boston was always a problem!”

“Which I was already planning to fix.”

Wooyoung recoils from the invisible smack against his face. Is that what she was planning to tell him when he interrupted her? 

“What?”

“That night I was trying to tell you I got a job in the city. That I was moving back.”

“You’re joking.”

Shoulder sagging under the weight of their mess, Y/N falls back onto the bed.“It was gonna be my last weekend trip down.”

Sniffles and desperate breaths fill the space. And Wooyoung gathers the courage to tell her the truth.

“I was planning to propose.” He can see her head turn in his peripheral, but he’ll lose the gaul if he sees her face so Wooyoung stares at the wall ahead as he speaks. “I had the ring for a year. And I was gonna ask you but I…” he trails off.

“You what?”

“I got scared.”

“Of me?”

“Of everything. I thought of how much we’d have to change, and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to give anything up to be with me.”

“Wooyoung, I never felt like that.” She objects, shaking her head. “I hated Boston. Do you think I was moving back to the city for you?”

“Kind of, I—”

“I have my own life there. I lived there for seven years! I was always planning to move back.”

“Then why were you being so secretive about it?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise. I knew you’d been stressed and I ddin’t want to add something else to your plate and… because I was worried if I brought it up too soon something would go wrong.”

“I still have it by the way.”

“What?”

“The ring.”

“Why?”

“I think some part of me feels like if I let it go then it’s really over.”

“Are you trying to tell me you want to get back together?”

“I didn’t want to break up to begin with.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

“Because I’m not good enough for you! I’ve never been good enough and I know you say it's not true but it is. I’m a public school teacher with shit pay and an apartment I can barely afford. That’s all I can offer you and it isn’t close enough to what you deserve.”

“Do you think I’m that shallow?” Y/N fumes, clearly not understanding what Wooyoung meant. “Why do you think you get to decide what's good enough for me?”

“Because someone has too! One day you’re gonna wake up and realize you can have anyone you want.”

“Not anyone.”

Y/N

The suffocating atmosphere of Wooyoung’s room pushes you into the chilly shower stall. In the stifling steam and perfumed bubbles, you quietly let all the emotions of the day run wild; eyes puffy, face swollen, and snot dripping from your nose to be washed away by the boiling streams of water. You hide for as long as possible, shivering as the heated water runs out and frigid ropes blast your skin. Unable to endure anymore of the stinging icicles, you exit the stall red nosed and blue lipped. 

Wooyoung sits on the edge of the bed with his back to the door. You watch his shoulder tense, rising closer to his ears as you pad closer to lay down. 

You’re too tired to sleep on the floor, too exhausted to fight with him again. So you curl under the covers, body sliding back when Wooyoung joins you. 

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, tracing his index finger along the knobs of your spine, attempting to comfort you the same way he always had.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.”

You both stay there in the silent darkness, their breaths and the hum of the heater keeping absolute stillness at bay. The tears you split in the shower followed you to the pillow, running down your cheeks as you try to keep the worst at bay. Wooyoung doesn’t stop tracing shapes between your shoulder blades, the worn cotton of your sleep shirt rubbing against your heated skin. How is the source of your distress the same as the source of your comfort?

Turning to face him, you realize how close he’s moved. Scant inches separate your chests, the heat of his legs licking your own bare ones under the blankets. You spot his own tears, eyes swollen and red, thick lashes clumped together as they fall.

If your love for Wooyoung was an ocean, you’d be lost at sea for years. 

He watches you watch him, hands finding one anothers and tangling together. When Wooyoung opens his mouth, pausing as a sniffle breaks free, you surge up to connect your lips.

Startling for only a second, he eagerly kisses you back. Tears and spit gloss your lips as you dip your tongue into his mouth, licking against his teeth before retreating to bruise his lower lip with your own. Wooyoung manages to roll on top of you, pinning you to the mattress as if you plan to up and leave at any second. You respond by crushing your lips together a fraction harder, attempting to communicate the longing and hurt words can’t convey.

The hem of his shirt finds its way between your fingers, moving further up his stomach with each insistent tug. Wooyoung’s own hands busy themselves, one buried in the hairs at the base of your scalp, cradling your head to move you this way and that as he continues exploring your mouth. The other wrinkles the pillow case beside you, muscles rippling as he holds himself over you. 

When you wiggle your hips, thighs spreading to cradle him between, he dives to your neck. Blood rushes to the surface as he nips and bruises the delicate skin below your jaw, scorching pants raising goosebumps in its wake. He shudders when your nails scratch down his abdomen, thumb dipping under the band of his pajama pants.

It's been nearly eight months without this. Two months before your breakup, in this very bed while the rest of the house was asleep as Wooyoung laughed into your neck while you drunkenly whined for him to touch you.

As familiar as those memories are, this time is entirely new. 

Wooyoung’s thumb, knowing and skilled, brushes across one of your nipples over your shirt, using the rough fabric to his advantage; stiffing it to a tight peak before allowing the weight to settle in his palm. Arching your back, you remove the piece of cloth separating you. Wooyoung barely allows you space to slough it over your head before he’s back on you, latching to the side of your neglected breast as he curls his hips into yours coursley. Your body reacts on nothing but instinct; back arching closer, thighs spreading wider as his knees carry him further down the mattress.

Reverent caresses of his hands lead him to the apex of your thighs, his breath fanning the damp patch of your shorts just before Wooyoung tucks his thumbs into the elastic to nudge them down, breathing deeply as he bares you for his eyes.

A tentative lick up length of your slit pulls a pathetic whimper from the back of your mouth. The flat of his tongue lave against your engorged clit, slow and torturous as Wooyoung indulges in your taste. Rough palms slide beneath the meat of your thighs, lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders. A harsh suck against the bundle of nerves locks your muscles tightly around Wooyoung’s head but he takes it in stride as he drops a hand to slip his fingers inside your clenching hole. Curling the pads of his digits upwards, you feel him in your throat as you bite back moans. Your fingers twist in Wooyoung’s inky hair at the delicious torture, hips rocking into his eager mouth as he pants against you; refusing to separate from your drenched center. 

When his unoccupied hand slips into your own, a death grip on your entertwined fingers, you fall apart. Your chapped lips nearly bleed from effort to remain quiet, writhing in Wooyoung’s hold as he continues to lap up everything you offer him.

A final suck against your clit has you scrambling to pull his mouth to your own, tasting yourself on his soaked cheeks and tongue.

“Please,” you whisper into his mouth.

Wooyoung responds by kissing you gently, the passion curling your toes while he fists his length before allowing the flared head to nudge your entrance.

Finally presses forward, fitting inside you as he always has, another tear burns down to your face. It all comes rushing forward, never ending waves rolling over you after you’ve been knocked down into the surf. Memories, good and bad, race through you at a breakneck speed. The tingling elation of the night Wooyoung asked you to be his girlfriend, the nerves of when you asked him to move in together during medical school. Sadness when you moved away for residency with the promise to come back. The numbing despair you felt the night you thought would be a turning point in your lives. The straw that breaks the camel's back is Wooyoung's admission that you’re too good for him. Choking your own pain down, you try to hone in on a spot on the ceiling in an effort to stay grounded.

Several seconds pass before Wooyoung notices the fresh bout of sobs, mistaking choked whimpers as whines of pleasure after such a long time apart. His nose traces the tendon of your neck as he cants his hips slowly, one hand still tangled in yours, the other pressing your knee up and around his waist to stretch deeper. When the dig of your nails into his shoulder turns from a sting to a cut, he leans back and realizes his mistake.

Eyes find one another through the distorted haze your sorrows create, his rounded with concern still glazed with evidence of his own tears. Staring at one another in a silence broken by sniffling and staccato breaths, a second set of tears mix with your own as he rests his forehead against yours. Locking your arms around Wooyoung’s broad shoulders and hooking your knees around his back, you try to seal him into your skin. 

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, voice broken and cracked. “I’m so sorry. I–” he hiccups. “I didn’t–”

What he’s apologizing for is a mystery. Forcing you into this charade? Telling you he was planning to propose? Breaking up with you in the first place? 

Perhaps it's all those things. Maybe it's none of them.

“I love you.” He whimpers into your hair, lips branding the words into your skin.

It’s not enough. But for tonight, you’ll let it be.

“I love you, too.” you whisper back, straining to brush the tip of your nose against his own.

Tomorrow, you’ll fly back to the city and hide in your apartment and pretend to be okay. Dive so far into your work that you forget the way Wooyoung has ripped the healing wound on your heart open again.

Tonight, you’ll pretend the missing piece has finally been found and can stay forever.

Tensing your thighs, your locked ankles nudge at the dip of his spine to remind Wooyoung he’s still inside you. He hesitates for a moment but your lips silence his objections, just as eager to indulge in the fantasy as you are.

The pace is bruising, stomachs firmly pressed together as he reaches for the top of the bed frame to provide more leverage. Wooyoung’s back ripples and flexes as he pounds into you, the vibration of his weak moans tickling the sensitive pads of your fingers as they etch down his ribs.

Consumed by an overwhelming need to touch him everywhere, you cradle his face between your palms. Wooyoung flashes his eyes open, as if startled you’re still there, before leaning into one of them. Thumb tracing his lips, he drops a searing kiss to the crease of your knuckle. The tenderness burns the remaining oxygen out of the room.

His next word is so quiet your ears fail to detect them over the slap of your bodies connecting or the squeak of the old bed frame. But Wooyoung’s said them against your skin enough times over the years for you to know the feel of his mouth forming around the sound.

You come with a muted whimper. So worn from tears, pleasure fizzles in your veins like the gentle ripple of the wind through the trees. Clenching around Wooyoung harshly, the tell tale hitch in his breath signals the beginning of his end. 

But he is truly done for when you lean up and whisper his words back into his ear, “forever.”

December 26th

Wooyoung

Wooyoung wakes to an empty bed, cold sheets, and the pillowcase squishing his cheek already damp from the tears he shed while sleeping.

December 29th

Wooyoung

A tedious drive to the airport grants Wooyoung ample time to stew in discontent, replaying the events of the past week over and over in his head.

Was he insane to think Y/N wanted him too? All the moments he nearly forgot they’re barely more than strangers after months of silence, how they still fit together so perfectly. Wooyoung knew he’d been a mess after the break up but the past week made him realize how lost he felt without her. Like the ocean without the moon to guide the tide; like he was missing half his heart. How many times had he opened his messages to text her something mundane from his day, just to close them and realize he’d ruined the best thing in his life in a second of weakness? And now having her next to him again, knowing he can’t fix what he did?

“When were you planning to tell us you two broke up?”

“Huh?”

“Wooyoung, I know.”

“How… she told you?”

“Poor thing was crying the entire way to the airport. I told her I wouldn’t let her fly by herself if she was that upset until she explained.”

“What’d she say?”

“That you two broke up a few months ago but you didn’t want to disappoint us.”

“Did she say anything else?”

“You know Y/N, always keeps her cards close to her chest.” His mom looks at him from the corner of her eye. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“I made a mistake.”

“If you two weren’t happy then it wasn’t a mistake.”

“But we were happy! She’s the one and I messed it up because I’m not good enough for her.”

“Where is that coming from?”

“I know you and dad wanted me to be an engineer like Myungho, okay? Even Kyungmin wants to be a lawyer! I’m the family disappointment. It only makes sense I’d disappoint Y/N too.”

Wooyoung’s mom is notorious for going under the speed limit, waiting to turn even if the oncoming car is five hundred feet away, and using her blinker religiously. Which is why Wooyoung thinks she’s having a seizure when she veers off the road and onto the shoulder like an F1 driver.

“You are not a disappointment! To me or your father or anyone. You are my son, and I have always been proud of that. I’ve seen you teaching, the way those kids look up to you. You’re doing exactly what you were meant to. And if my worrying has made you feel that way then I am so sorry. I’ll we’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy sweetie.”

Crossing his arms, Wooyoung flicks away the beads of moisture tracing down his chin. “You’re my mom, you have to say that.”

“Well I’m not Y/N’s mom but I talk about her the same way.”

“Yeah well she’s a doctor, saving kids lives and all that.”

“You don’t think you do the same thing? Those kids come to school excited to learn because of you. Just because you’re not finding a cure for cancer doesn’t mean your job isn’t important. And Y/N isn’t disappointed with you either. She loves you, Wooyoung. Why don’t you let her decide what she wants?”

“Yeah, well I think it’s too late for that.” Wooyoung mumbles, eyes on the toes of his shoes.

“Maybe you should ask her if she thinks so.”

December 30th

Wooyoung

Rather than give into his impatience, Wooyoung stews on his mom’s advice. And each passing hour conveniences him more and more she’s wrong. Especially when San and Yeosang sit with him in their cramped living room, bottles of beer and empty takeout littering the coffee table.

“You’re pathetic.”

“Fuck you.” Wooyoung responds.

San, red faced and tipsy, slaps the leather armrests of the chair before rising.“Fuck you! You broke up with her over nothing and instead of trying to get her back you have a fucking pity party? Grow a pair.”

“She doesn’t want me!”

“Did you ask her?” 

“I don’t have to!”

“You’re an idiot.” Yeosang butts in.

Wooyoung knows his hesitation speaks for itself when Yoesang keeps talking.

“You can ask her to pretend you’re still dating but you can’t tell her you wanna get back together?”

“It’s not that easy!”

“Yes it is!” San argues. “You love her right? You care about her?” San doesn’t continue until Wooyoung nods. “Then she has a right to know.”

“What if she says no?”

“Then she says no. Cross that bridge when you get there. You’re already broken up, how much worse can it get?”

Surprisingly, Wooyoung agrees. He sits forward, looking at his roommates before asking.“So what do I do?”

December 31st

Wooyoung

When Wooyoung’s messages go unanswered and his calls fall into the abyss of Y/N’s full voicemail box, pulls out Plan B.

Unfortunately, Plan B has no moral or ethical oppositions to castrating him.

“Go fuck yourself!”

“Lisa, please!” Wooyoung begs into the phone.

“No! Not once but twice I’ve had Y/N crying on my couch because of your dumbass. I’m not letting it happen again!”

“I need to talk to her. Please just help me!”

“What makes this time so different?”

“I—,” Wooyoung freezes. What does make this time different?

He hears Lisa sigh on the other end of the phone, almost as if she’s disappointed. “Just leave her alone, Wooyoung.”

And the line clicks dead.

Walking back into the kitchen from the worst call of his life, Wooyoung spots San’s downcast face while Yeosang watches him from the table; both clearly overhearing his exchange with Y/N’s best friend.

The vinyl table top shakes as Wooyoung drops his forehead down with a bang, groaning in frustration. 

“She’s working at NewYork-Presbyterian.” Yeosang mentions, returning to munch on his bowl of cereal.

“What?”

“Y/N works at NewYork-Presbyterian.”

“How do you know that?”

Shrugging, Yeosang takes another bite and swallows before explaining. “She told me she got a job there when she was planning to move back.” 

Wooyoung has Yeosang’s shirt in his hands in a flash, nose to nose with his lifelong friend. Never in his life has Wooyoung been so furious with the man before him.

“You knew this whole time?” He bites, his eyes so wide with anger the whites show.

San is at Wooyoung's back, winding his arms around his shoulders in an attempt to pull him off their other roommate.

“You knew all of this and you didn’t fucking tell me? You’re my friend!” Attempting to shake him off, Wooyoung keeps pressing forward. 

Yeosang rises to his feet, hands wrapping around Wooyoung’s wrists and squeezing till the pain forces him to let go. “Yeah, and you’re acting like a real asshole right now!”

“Guys calm down!” San yells, managing to pull Wooyoung back now that he’s no longer attached to Yeosang’s shirt.

“Why didn't you say something?”

“You ended an eight year relationship out of the blue, I wasn’t about to let you get back with her just because you decided being single wasn’t your thing anymore.”

The words slap Wooyoung in the face. Even his own friend’s don’t trust him not to hurt Y/N anymore. “I’m not— I wouldn’t,”

“Come on, Woo. All you could talk about was how excited you were to ask her to marry you and then you come home and tell us you broke up with her. She’s my friend too and I don’t want to see her hurt.”

“So why are you telling me now?”

“Because you were desperate enough to call Lisa. If you fuck up again she’ll actually kill you.”

Wooyoung isn’t going to mess up again, not if he can help it. And if he does, he’ll walk straight into the river before Lisa can force him.

But for now, he focuses on getting Y/N to listen to his apology.

January 1st

Y/N

Chief complaint: Father reports patient’s fever and cough have become more severe since previous visit. Reports child is refusing solids but drinking well and taking soft foods such as apple sauce. Sleeping okay.

One of the residents pops her head into your office, “Dr. Y/L/N you have a delivery at the reception desk.”

“Thank you!” You call, not missing a beat as you continue your notes. 

Impression: Upper respiratory infection, right otitis media

Plan: Amoxicillin prescribed, five day follow up with p.r.n. at PCP.

Finishing your chart, you rise and head out towards the receptionist desk. A familiar bouquet of blush pink tulips greet you, a silk white ribbon knotted around the dip of the crystal vase. A small envelope is tucked into the spread, sending a terrified jolt through your system.

“I wish I had someone send me flowers as pretty as this!” Jessica sighs, eying the arrangement enviously.

“Yeah,” you laugh, unable to muster an ounce of false humor.

You snatch the bouquet before turning back the direction you came. 

Once back into the safety of your office, door shut and blinds drawn, you open the note.

If you don’t want to see me ever again, I’ll let you go. But I can't say enough how every time I ever put my arms around you I felt that I was home. I’ll be waiting at our spot on Saturday. As long as it takes.

–W

You don’t realize you’re crying until the ink of the note begins to bleed. 

January 3rd

Wooyoung

Wooyoung is the first customer to enter the cozy coffee shop overlooking the southeast entrance of Tompkins Square Park at nine a.m., claiming the tiny wobbly table off in the corner that provides the perfect view of the door. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. It feels wrong to scroll through his phone as he waits so he snags one of the artsy newspapers sitting on the counter while the surly barista prepares his order.

After an hour, adrenalin maintains the pleasant buzz through Wooyoung’s system, fueled further by espresso on an empty stomach. Each chime of the bell over the door results in awkward eye contact with a stranger that certainly isn’t his ex-girlfriend.

After three hours, his butt is numb and Wooyoung’s abandoned the newspaper he’s memorized. The NYT mini crossword archive isn’t as extensive as he thought.

After six hours, he’s had enough coffee to power a jet plane and his leg jitters aggressively. He’s started people watching through the window, making up stories for passersby entering the park and crossing the street. Half his heart hopes they’re happier than he is, the other half hopes he’s not alone in his misery.

When he’s been at the shop for eleven and a half hours, burned through every source of distraction possible and can describe in vivid detail the features outside the glass wall that separate the inside of the cafe from the sidewalk, Wooyoung accepts that she isn’t coming.

He stays till close, every minute that ticks on a drop in the bucket of regret in his heart. The barista starts stacking chairs, passive aggressively swiping the frayed broom in a ring around his table, so Wooyoung does the sensible thing and waits outside. 

The bitter wind wafting through the city finds home in his bones despite his thermals and padded parka. Wooyoung desperately clings to the tiny drop of hope still clinging to his heart. Shaking from the chill and overindulgence in caffeine Wooyoung watches as the clock hits nine. 

She isn’t coming.

She doesn’t want him back.

Wooyoung watches a couple laugh in each other's embrace across the street, clambering over one another in amused content. There was time that would have been him and Y/N, high from the intoxicating joy of one another’s presence and the city lights in the winter. Fingers interlocked as they trapeze through crowds, ignoring every other soul in favor of focusing on each other.

Eyes stinging, he turns to head for the train station but nearly shouts as spots the woman in question ten paces away.

Her hair is a mess, nose and cheeks blushing from the cold, breath obscuring her face as it fogs in the cool air. But she’s here, looking every bit unsure as he feels.

“Hi.” He says, dumbfounded.

“Hi.”

“You came.”

“I did.”

Wooyoung might faint. His heart is beating a mile a minute, breath shallow and labored. She’s here. She’s here and she’s looking at him like that. And the fear creeps into his pause.

“I’m sorry.” He warbles.

“I know.”

But she can’t so he says it again.

“I’m so sorry.”

“You keep saying that.”

Because he can’t think of anything else. Nine hours of going over the grand speech about how he missed her and how breaking up with her was the greatest regret of his life flies out the window now that she’s in front of him and willing to listen.

“Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

“No.”

“Then talk to me, Woo.”

The only thing she’s ever asked him for is the truth. Wooyoung’s been so afraid that if he tells her how he truly feels, she’ll think less of him. That being so in love it terrifies you is disgusting, pathetic. 

“I don’t know where to start.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Since they opened.”

“Why?”

“Because if you came I didn’t want to miss you.”

“I almost didn’t.”

“Why did you?”

“Because—,” she pauses, shaking her head. “I don’t know.”

“I had a whole speech prepared.”

“Really?” She smiles apprehensively.

“Yeah, but now that you’re here I don’t remember any of it.”

“Then just tell me the truth, Woo.”

“I’m an idiot.”

Laughing at his outburst, she nods at him. “That’s a start.” 

And the space between them grows a little warmer.

“That night at dinner, when I went to the bathroom, I got an email.” Wooyoung starts, stepping closer. “I’d applied for a grad school program and I thought I was gonna get in but … I didn’t. And I think that and the nerves from proposing just caught up to me. I thought you’d want to stay in Boston after all and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to move back here. And it snowballed and all those feelings of not being good enough came back and— When you didn’t say anything, didn’t ask why or try to argue with me I thought it meant it’s what you wanted too.”

Shame flushes through him, a tsunami of disgust for allowing himself to think so poorly of her. Y/N never made him feel less than. The only person in their relationship who thought he wasn’t good enough for her was him and he let that destroy everything in a second of self doubt. 

“I tried to convince myself I did you a favor. That you’d be better off without me and you’d meet someone better. Find someone good enough for you. But I was wrong. I am wrong. There hasn't been a single day since we met that I don’t think about you. Even when I try not to, you’re always in the back of my mind. And then I think about how selfish I am for wanting you back. But when it comes to you I’ve always been a little selfish because I love you. And—” he breaths for the first time. “And I don’t know how to be me without you.”

The humor is gone from Y/N’s face. Her beautiful eyes brim with tears, rimmed red not unlike his own; chin shaking. The wind is louder than ever now, cars wheel sloshing across the wet pavement crashing between them.

“Please say something.”

“How do I trust you again?” Her voice cracks, and it knocks the air from Wooyoung’s lungs.

“I don’t know.” Wooyoung looks at the ground, guilt-ridden.

Everything, all of the pain and heartbreak, was his fault. He dug them into this mess and now he doesn’t know how to get them out.

Y/N

Seeing Wooyoung, the man with an answer for everything, admit for once he doesn’t have an elaborate plan in motion to win you back is refreshing. You didn’t want Wooyoung who’d fix everything, Wooyoung who’d carry the burden of your relationship by himself even if it killed him. All you wanted was for him to tell you the truth.

And now that he has, you’re done being apart.

Nearly topping to the ground as you tackle Wooyoung in a fierce hug, you focus on inhaling his cologne and basking in the feel of his body pressed firmly against you. He barely manages to steady your combined weight, feet scrambling to regain his balance on the icy sidewalk.

“Don’t you ever do that shit to me again!” You yell, arms squeezing around his waist.

Wooyoung hesitates for a moment, clearly shocked at the turn of events. Rising out of his chest, you look at his gaping mouth and furrowed brows before his arms knot around your shoulders. 

“I missed you.” You whisper into the delicate kiss you land on his lips.

“I love you.” Wooyoung whispers back, forehead resting against your own.

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

Four months later

Central Park in May is a bustle of people enjoying warm days following months of slushy snow and gray skies. Shrill screams bounce off the trees as children dart across the walkways, giggling groups of friends crowd around blankets on the greening grass, and a menagerie of dogs zigzag around their owners in the fresh air.

Today is a rare day where they both can spend interrupted hours lounging in one another’s presence, eager to make up for years of long distances and the months neither likes to talk about. Wooyoung woke Y/N with innumerable kisses across any sliver of skin his lips could find, basking in the knowledge today he’d finally ask the question hanging from the tip of his tongue since this time last year.

Sprawled across an old throw blanket, skin warming in the afternoon sunshine, a thick book obscures her face from view as Y/N rests her head in his lap. Wooyoung tries not to check his pocket for the millionth time this afternoon, ensuring the little velvet box is still there. He isn’t worried she’ll say no. But the phantom fear from the last time he planned to ask creeps up no matter how many affirmations he silently repeats in his head. But when she looks up at him, crinkled eyes visible just above the edge of the book pages hiding her smile, Wooyoung forgets all his worries.

Plucking the book from her grasp, he carefully marks her place before setting it down beside her hip. Wooyoung folds in half to silence her protesting “hey!” with a kiss, humming when she gives in all too easily. 

“I was reading that.” She mumbles as they separate.

“Wow, you’d rather read some smutty book than kiss your real life boyfriend?”

Laughing, she presses another peck to his mouth before answering.“Glad you understand.”

“What about your fiance?”

Y/N smile melts into shock, mouth gaping and staring at him like a deer in headlights.

Wooyoung smoothly maneuvers her up and out of his lap, pulling the jewelry box from his pocket as he kneels on a lone knee.

“Y/N. You’re my favorite person in the world. The only person I can ever imagine spending the rest of my life with. I love when you sing in the shower, and how you put way too much sugar in your coffee. I love how smart you are, and how you’re nice to everyone even if they don’t deserve it,  me included. And how everytime I look at you my palms get sweaty and that just thinking about you makes my day better. You are the love of my life. Will you marry me?”

Wooyoung is shaking so violently he fumbles the velvet box twice during his speech. He drops it a third time when Y/N tackles him in a fierce hug, tear filled laughter spilling from their lips and into the field where they lay. 

“Yes!” She squeals into his neck, “Yes, I’d love to marry you.”

At dinner with all their friends, he subconsciously holds Y/N’s hand so the diamond glints at anyone looking. When Wooyoung walks home, giggly from champagne and love, he kisses her knuckles a ridiculous amount of times just to feel the cool band under his lips. Once inside the doorway of her apartment, Wooyoung crowds Y/N against the door; his thumb focusing on the bevel of the diamond sitting on her ring finger as his other hand pushes the strap of her sundress off her shoulder so his tongue etch her collarbone from dip of her throat where the locket he gave her for their first Christmas together rests to under her ear. 

“So, future Mrs. Jung, now that we’re alone, how would you like to celebrate?” He asks, nipping against the sensitive skin she sighs, chest arching into his own.

“What if I wanna keep my last name?”

“Is that what you’re focusing on right now?” Wooyoung asks, a strong thigh moving between her parted legs.

“Yeah, future Mr.Y/L/N. I don’t think there’s anything else to discuss right n—fuck, Youngie.”

Wooyoun can’t help but giggle at her reaction, rocking again just to hear her moan his name once more. 

“What were you saying?”

“Don’t,” she huffs, whimpering at another torturous drag. Wooyoung can feel the heat of her cunt through her panties and his jeans. “Don’t be mean to your future wife.”

“Love when you talk dirty.” He bites, teeth raking against the strained muscle raising from the side of her neck.

“That turns you on? Calling me your wife?”

“Feel for yourself.”

“And if I call you my husband?”

Wooyoung doesn’t dignify her question with an answer other than sprinting to the bedroom to demonstrate just how much he likes the new name.

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[lustsickforyou]

EYES ON YOU ..

pairing: james potter x female reader

summary: james potter— if anything, was a flirt until the very end. so when he sees a very pretty girl in the library he couldn’t help himself but to go speak with her.

a/n: this idea popped into my head and i just had to write it, james potter is the cutest boy of them all.

JAMES POTTER was known for many things, but the one thing that surfed around the halls of the school was that he was a womanizer. constantly flirting with all the eligible girls around school, and most found it quite charming. he had this elegance about him when it came to talking with anyone. the way the words fell off tongue was mesmerizing, how he would playfully touch their arm just enough to grab their attention to the action but leaving them wanting more.

you however, felt much more opposite than the other girls around. perhaps that was something you and lily evans could relate to. you knew his tricks, the same moves he pulled on every girl. you watched it all before, and yet something bothered you that he never approached you. always left you watching from afar, wondering why he never tried at any attempt to get your attention. maybe that’s why you hated him and his flirting so much.

it was now your sixth year at hogwarts, classes were ever as busy and your work was piling up each day. it was hard not to fall behind, so often you found yourself in the library attempting to study. the sound of birds chirping outside the window, the sun shining through just as it reached the golden hour of the end of the day. you could hear book pages being flipped, small conversations softly spoken— and of course you could hear james potter enter the room.

he was quite popular, every single time he entered a room someone would say hello to him and strike up a conversation without fail. you attempted to mind your own business, flipping through the pages of your history of magic book. it was hard not to get bored with that class, you wondered how anyone would excel so easily.

james was on his way to meet up with his friends to study, when he walked passed you. everything seemed to go slowly for him in the instance of passing by. he looked over towards you as he made his way across the library. how your face was concentrated and your eyebrows permanently furrowed as you read the words in front of you. the way you glanced up at him, the sun hitting your face in that perfect honey lighting, but looked back towards your book without another thought.

james always saw these kinds of things like a challenge, could he get the girl who seemed so disinterested in him? and as he continued to walk forward and away from you, a thought crossed his mind. how had he never seen you before? he was going to continue forward but some switch flipped inside of him and he stopped in his tracks, turning on his heels with a knowing smirk on his face and heading right back in your direction.

you glanced up again when you heard him change paths, and immediately sighed, covering your face. you definitely did not have time for his shenanigans. not only were you busy trying to catch up in your class work, your hair was a mess and you felt a headache coming on from all the reading you had done.

“is this seat taken?” he asked suavely, and you mentally rolled your eyes. you looked up nervously, and tried to come up with an excuse. “well— i’m expecting somebody.” you landed on the answer rather quickly which made yourself quite proud.

james looked around the room, towards the entrance of the library with no sign of anyone coming. he may act stupid but he was quite intelligent. “right now?” he questioned and you stared at him with shock. “no— but any minute now.” you lied. “any minute?” he teased lightly and you wanted to grab your things and run out of there as quickly as possible. you decided to not respond, looking down at your book again and hoped he would walk away.

“what are you reading?” he asked. would he ever give up? “history of magic, while i’m waiting for him.” you added the last part so he would get the idea that his presence wasn’t wanted here. “well then— you probably won’t mind if i wait here with you.” he pulled out the chair to the left of the square table and sat down. you mentally cursed and leaned back into your own chair.

“are you new here?” he asked, which deep down stung because he hadn’t noticed you. probably not ever— and ever since you grew into your face this past summer and started to use light makeup to enhance your features you had started to get attention from boys. it was probably the only reason he noticed you, even though you had classes with him before.

“no, i’m not.” you shook your head, tucking your hair behind your ear and looked down at your book in attempt to forget the fact that you were sitting in the library with james potter, and how you felt slightly embarrassed because everyone around knew exactly what he was doing, therefor they noticed you. which meant a target was on your back from his little fan club of girls who thought they had a shot with the brunette boy.

“what’s your name?” he asked, and you gave in. finally setting your hands down on the table in front of you. “y/n y/l/n.” you replied simply and he had this look of shock on his face, repeating your name with a hint of surprise. “my goodness, i barely even recognized you.” he leaned back, taking you in.

“mm, so i’ve heard. from many people actually.” you stated matter of factly, because it was true. you returned to school looking more stunning than the year before that even your friends were shocked to see you. james cleared his throat, knowing he was already messing up his usual routine with every girl. for some reason with you it felt different. he had been taken by surprise, which set him off the rails completely.

“we had—” he thought for a moment trying to remember. “potions together.” he finished and you nodded slowly. “you were the awkward girl who sat in the back and rarely ever spoke.” he teased and you rolled your eyes at his comment. “that i was.” you sounded disinterested at this point. he was clawing at any attempt for you to swoon after him like everyone else did.

“i’m sorry i didn’t recognize you sooner.” he acknowledged the fact that he was acting like a complete asshole right now. “that’s alright.” you accepted his apology graciously, a smile crossing onto your features as you tried not to laugh at his poor attempt at trying to flirt with you. why had everyone talked big game with him when he acted like such a fool now in front of you?

it hadn’t even crossed your mind that he was nervous, that he was so enamored by your beauty that he was a loss for words. “so where is this mystery man of yours? i thought he was coming any minute now.” he spoke playfully and you smiled back. “he’s often late.” you continued to lie, because if you were being honest you didn’t want to seem like an idiot, you already felt like one.

“not a very good mystery man then, now is he?” he asked and you laughed lightly. “you have a beautiful laugh.” he complimented and you looked down again, feeling your face go hot at his comment. you wanted to slap yourself for ever feeling bashful over james’ words. not after you had seen him flirt with everyone under the sun, and secretly judging people for ever falling under his spell.

“thank you, james.” you spoke quietly. the two of you sat in silence for a moment, him staring at you with that knowing smirk on his face, and you looking down feeling his eyes on you. you decided it would be your turn to ask him questions.

“so— why did you choose to sit here with the girl waiting on somebody instead of with your friends.” you motioned over to the table across the room filled with his infamous group of friends who talked amongst themselves. they learned long ago that james did this kind of stuff, and chose not to pay too much attention to it. james shrugged, glancing at his friends and back towards you because he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of you.

“i saw a pretty girl, i couldn’t help myself.” he answered honestly and you narrowed your eyes with a small smile on his face. “what?” he asked and you shook your head with another laugh, so infectious that it made him laugh as well— hesitantly but he still did. “nothing, nothing.” you giggled, covering your mouth in hopes he wouldn’t notice how funny you found this. “tell me what you find so amusing.” he practically begged and you calmed yourself down from the laughing fit.

“i don’t know— i just thought you were all heart eyes for lily evans and she just so happens to be sitting right next to your friends”. you pointed out and he quickly looked over to notice the red head who was speaking with remus. “and it’s terribly predictable of you, you call every girl in this school pretty.” you added and he shook his head, looking back towards you instead of the evans girl.

“i’m not heart eyes for the evans girl.” he swallowed and you shrugged with an upside down frown knowingly. “i’m not! she doesn’t even like me anyways.” he tried to save himself, but you found the whole situation amusing. “whatever helps you sleep at night, potter.” you joked and he rolled his eyes. “you’re horrible.” he teased with a smile and shook his head.

“so i’m pretty and horrible? how can those two things exist?” you asked with a smirk. “oh it does, it’s sitting right in front of me now.” he chuckled. you held up your hands as if presenting yourself in the flesh and he was the one that was now amused. once the laughter died down james let out a relieving sigh. “you really are something y/n y/l/n.” he gushed and you looked away for a moment to gather yourself.

“surprised you remembered my name this time.” you cooed. “i don’t think i can forget now.” he replied, staring down at you. you didn’t respond, only looking up at him.

“go on a date with me.” he blurted out suddenly and you leaned back with a surprised look on your face. “so soon, potter?” you asked and he shrugged innocently. “sorry, but i don’t think i want to go on a date with the infamous womanizer of hogwarts.” you declined and he grabbed his chest, acting as if he had just been shot. no one ever declined his request for such things. only one other red headed girl who seemed to be so far in his mind now. “only proving yourself to be more horrible, darling.” he called you by a nickname that fell so easily off his lips. “thank you.” you accepted even though a compliment was never there.

“come on, the date could be perfect. we could have a picnic on the grass hills behind the school.” he almost begged at this point and you looked up as if you were thinking about it. “and how many girls have you taken on this said perfect date?” you questioned. “not a single one, just you.” he replied. he was effortlessly perfect in every way, and yet you still pushed him away.

“alright, how many times have you asked lily evans on that same date?” you tried now and he went quiet. you had him all figured out, one of the only girls who didn’t see him through those rose colored glasses he so easily placed onto them. james cleared his throat, adjusting in his seat. you saw right through him, but it didn’t scare him off.

“james! are you done bothering that poor girl? we have defense against the dark arts homework to catch up on!” remus called from across the room and james stood from his seat, grabbing his bag and throwing it around his shoulder. “coming, coming!” he yelled back annoyed. “i better get going, leave you to wait for this boy.” he jabbed and you giggled.

“let me know if you ever work it out.” you said and he looked down confused. “what?” he inquired. “you flirting with other girls, and about that date. seems nice if you weren’t the way you were.” you explained. “so you’re saying i have a chance?” he asked and you sucked in a deep breath. “perhaps.” you landed on the answer and he nodded before walking off towards his friends.

“what’s got you so interested in y/n?” sirius poked fun at his friend and james sat down ignoring him. “honestly james, i wish you would just leave the all those girls alone.” peter added and james looked at him disappointed as he grabbed the books from his bag. they all dropped it, opening up their books and pulling out parchment paper. and instead of like usual, james didn’t swoon over lily. he looked back every so often towards you, where you were reading your book intently. and the final time he looked back you were gone.

he had a crush, a huge one. and for days after the interaction the only thing on his mind was you.

[distantdarlings]

BY THE FIREPLACE (PT. 2) // t. nott

RATING: PG -13 / 1.4K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader

+ SUMMARY - *Requested* A continuation of the interesting situation you unknowingly placed yourself in. Theo takes you, in your Animagus form, back to his dorm room and attempts to take a nap with his new friend. (Comedy?) (Read Part One first)

+ WARNINGS - Language, nothing else really

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing)

New Perspective - P!ATD (it's stuck in my head)

*I just wanted to say that I am sorry this is so short and may not be the best follow-up to Part One, but I really hope you like it. It was kind of rushed because I had a really busy, frustrating day, but wanted to write!*

---

Every few minutes, Theo would shoot a glance towards his annoyingly persistent group of friends. His glare became sharper and sharper each time, but, still, they refused to stop giggling and teasing.

He could barely focus on his bloody work and they were absolutely not going to stop any time soon. He groaned and got to his feet, shoving all of his schoolwork quickly into his bag, keeping you safely cradled in his arms. Maybe you’d attach to him and sleep at the end of his bed and stuff. He’d have to get some cat food.

Their giggling and whispers came to a stop as soon as he stood. They watched him closely, waiting to see what he’d do next.

“Oh, so now you all shut up?” Theo growled. “I’m trying to get work done. How am I supposed to do anything when you all are—?” He mocked their giggling.

“Sorry, Theo, we just missed you,” Mattheo joked, “we wanted to be close to you.”

“Yeah, right, why are you really here?” Theo asked.

None of them answered. Just all glanced at each other and started giggling again. He rolled his eyes and started towards the library’s entrance.

“Hey, where are you going?” Pansy asked.

“To my dorm and you better not follow!” Theo warned, never looking back. Their laughter only got louder. He groaned in frustration and slammed through the library door, careful not to jostle your sleeping figure too much. You slept pretty heavily for a cat.

He pushed through the occasional crowd of students on their way to classes as he headed towards his dorm. Hopefully, nobody would be in there and he’d finally get some peace and quiet for him and you. He had a million things to get done.

He walked rather quickly until he came upon the Slytherin dorm entrance. He spoke the password and made his way across the threshold, melting at the small coo you made in your sleep.

“Aw, I love you, little thing,” he laughed. “You don’t belong to Hogwarts anymore, you belong to me. What should I name you?”

He followed the staircase up to his assigned dorm and finally tossed all of his stuff onto the desk next to his bed. He gently set you down on his freshly-made bed and assured himself that you were wrapped up cozily in your little wool blanket. A small smile appeared on his face.

Distantly, he could hear his irritating friends downstairs. They laughed and joked noisily with other Slytherin students down in the common room. He refrained from rolling his eyes as he set all of his work out yet again. He was getting this shit done—today, with no more interruptions.

He grabbed his wand and flicked it at the door. The wooden lock against it landed with a heavy clunk. If someone needed to come in, they could state their name and business.

You stretched in your sleep once more, releasing a purring yawn. He smiled at the motion and brushed the tip of his quill’s feather over your face gently.

He turned back to the papers and books scattered across his desk and set to work. Circling answers, scrawling out short answers, and highlighting passages. The warmth from the sun pushed through the window, gently heating his hands, face, and a sliver of your back on his bed. Every few minutes or so, he’d lean over and run a soothing hand over your head or back.

His friends had quieted down downstairs and seemed to have gotten bored of whatever stupid joke they were playing on Theo. He figured they were just trying to get him to think they were talking about him or hiding something from him. Which was really annoying. He’d never done anything like that to them, so what the hell?

As his hand worked the quill across the parchment, his mind wandered a bit. He wondered if you’d ever gone back and picked up your stuff from the library. Maybe you’d forgotten it? It doesn’t really seem like you were the type of person to forget all of your stuff, though. He shrugged. Maybe he’d go down later and see if it was still there.

After about an hour or so of working, Theo pushed out of the desk chair and pulled his body into a tall stretch. He groaned at the release and popped his knuckles. He was sort of tired, come to think about it. Maybe it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if he skipped his fourth period. He’d tell Professor Sprout he wasn’t feeling well, which, after accidentally being transfigured into a toad in McGonagall’s earlier, he didn’t exactly feel one-hundred percent.

Just as he was scooting you gently up next to his pillows and slipping beneath the comforters, a knock came at the door.

“Who is it?” Theo asked.

“It’s us, man, just let us in.” Mattheo.

“Absolutely not, I’m busy.”

“Please, we really think it would be in your best benefit to open the door.”

“Do you need something out of here?” Theo called back, settling comfortably beneath the blankets.

“No, but—”

“Is someone injured or dying?”

“No—”

“Then you don’t need to be in here—you’re just going to keep picking on me,” Theo grumbled. He tucked his arm under the covers and curled his hand around you, pulling your back against his chest. You purred in your sleep. You were so warm.

He ignored their persistent pounding at the door and settled in, closing his tired eyes. This was going to be the best nap of his life.

He was teetering on the edge of being awake and not when he felt something move against him. It felt like something had touched his legs. Maybe you’d gotten up and moved farther down the bed. But he was pretty sure you were still curled beneath his arm. He wasn’t sure and he was too tired to care. Though it really felt weird…

“Ugh, why doesn’t he just open the door?” Pansy grunted, slamming her hand against the wood once more. “The teasing was funny, but I didn’t think he’d actually take her to his dorm!”

“Yeah, I don’t think any of us did,” Mattheo pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Why was she sleeping in her Animagus form, anyways?” Enzo asked. The other two shrugged.

From the other side of the door, it had gotten completely quiet, and they all wondered if he had laid down with you. They all hoped he hadn’t. It would have been funny to see you wake up, confused and angry, in his lap, but it might not be so funny if you were in his bed. You might think you’d been kidnapped or something.

Just as the thought hit, they all started pounding on the door more.

Somewhere near the back of your head, you heard muffled pounding and shouting. It sounded like a small army parading about the room. You wondered if the Quidditch team was practicing outside the library’s window or something like that.

You didn’t mean to fall asleep. Hopefully, nobody had moved your stuff. You still had a ton of work to do. You groaned and raised your arms to stretch out when you realized the bottoms of your arms caught more material. The armchair was bigger than you realized. And a lot more comfortable…

You began rubbing sleep from your eyes as you started to lean up. As you did, something caught your body and held you pinned against the chair. You opened your eyes in confusion, looking at the material below you. Not a chair….a bed? Had someone taken you back to your room? You glanced down and saw a tanned arm wrapped tightly around you. What the fuck? Maybe you got laid.

You turned over and came within inches of Theodore Nott’s nose.

“This is literally the weirdest situation I’ve ever been in…” Enzo sighed. They all had given up on trying to beat the door down and sat against the wood, waiting for one of the two of you to wake up. They hoped it wasn’t going to be too bad of a situation.

Best case, you guys awkwardly brushed it off and went your separate ways. Worse case….

A shrill scream pierced their ears. They, and half of the common room, flinched at the sudden noise. That high-pitched whistle was soon accompanied by a more dulcet shout. Both drew out for at least 30 seconds. The three students cringed at the realization that you two had woken up.

“Fuck,” Mattheo said. They all dropped their faces into their hands.

Part 3!

[justauthoring]

a certain fondness.

to admit your feelings is scary, but to never have known is scarier. requested! -> hey! i seen your post asking for marauders requests so I was wondering if you’d write a remus x reader? where they’ve been pining after eachother for so long and it’s so obvious to everyone but them. maybe it ends in a nervous love confession? thank youuu!!! requested by! -> @pinkdaiisies

a/n -> yall im on chapter 108 of atyd and im in the trenches currently lol also, i will always use the og fancast

pairing -> remus lupin x f!reader

he was so pretty that it almost wasn't fair.

pretty eyes. pretty smile. pretty hair. pretty scars. you knew he thought they made him a monster, but you thought they made him look beautiful.

though, you could never tell him that.

you've wanted to, multiple times. been talked up by the girls and psyched yourself up, everything, but the second he'd smile at you with that soft, shy smile, all that courage would disappear within seconds and you'd be left a fumbling fool.

and so, like a cruel torture, you were left a pining fool – always thinking about the what if's and the maybes without ever taking the steps to make them reality. you'd dream of a day you'd be brave enough, or worse, dream of a day that maybe he'd confess himself.

that all along, he'd liked you too.

it never happened.

-

"seriously, moony, you should just tell her."

remus rolls his eyes from behind the book he'd been reading – peacefully a few seconds ago – before lowering it to send james a rather nonplussed expression. "not all of us can just pour our hearts out whenever we want, prongs."

james just rolls his eyes. "and why not?" he counters, quirking a challenging brow. "i have no problem."

"and how well is that working out for you?"

james lips part in disbelief as remus smirks, it growing when he hears sirius let out a loud chuckle and peter try to quietly mask his own chuckle. it wasn't often the boys teased james for his crush on lily anymore, especially since it'd been made clear no amount of it would change his rather embarrassing attempts but, when someone did crack a joke, it never failed to gain the intended laugh.

"well," james huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back against the couch. "at least i'm not too afraid to admit my feelings, like a certain moony over here."

remus shakes his head; "i'm not afraid."

"you definitely are," sirius pops up then, sending remus a smirk. "even wormtail has more bravery then you, remus."

peter flushes at that, batting away sirius' hand from it's mocking pat on his back. "so funny."

sirius just sticks his tongue out at peter, being the childish prat he normally is, as james speaks up again. "seriously though, moony. i'm confident y/n feels the same."

flushing, remus slams his book shut – he clearly wasn't going to be able to read it in peace anymore. "you do not know that," remus corrects, "what if she doesn't and i embarrass myself?"

"like prongs?" sirius grins.

james just sends him the finger. "it honestly isn't that bad."

remus sighs; "for you maybe. besides, why would she want to go out with someone like me?"

remus' meaning is clear.

"remus," james sighs, pitingly. "y/n knows right?" remus nods. "and she doesn't care. none of us do. it isn't as bad as you think it is."

remus moves to respond, but before he can, a voice cuts in;

"what's not that bad?"

all four eyes fall on the four girls as they make their way into the common room. it's lily who asks the question, not so subtly moving towards james, sitting on the arm of his chair, who meets her eyes and tries not to flush immediately – to be fair, lily isn't that much better.

mary and marlene send smiles of their own and easily flank themselves on the couch next sirius, peter now on the ground in front of them.

you walk in behind them, eyes falling on remus' first as you smile.

it's then, remus realizes, that all the open spots on the little nook the marauders had settled themselves in are now taken. he notices, just out of the corner of his eye, you move to take a seat on the ground and his body reacts before he can stop himself.

"here," he rushes, "take my seat."

you turn to him in surprise, a soft flush covering your cheeks as your eyes flicker from the now open seat to remus. "oh, remus you don't–"

"i insist," he pushes, gently, nodding at you with a small, nervous smile.

the rest of the marauders and the girls all send each other knowing glances, shaking their heads at their friends obliviousness.

smiling brightly, you move towards the couch; "thank you, remus."

"o-of course."

with nowhere left, remus settles himself on the ground, in front of you. he tries to ignore the flutter of his heart at having you so close or the way he can't get the soft smile you'd sent him out of your head.

"so," you prompt after a moment when no one else will speak. "what's not so bad?"

remus realizes they'd never answered lily's question. instantly, he sends a look to james, pleading with him not to say anything – especially with you right there.

"sorry, y/n/n," sirius calls out instead of james when the quidditch captain simply stares on in panic. "it's a marauder secret." he offers, grinning over at you and sending remus a wink who quickly bows his head.

you roll your eyes at that, but smile nonetheless. "nothing new then," you laugh, "just let me know beforehand if you're planning on blowing something up or making a mess of something. last time you guys did a prank, i got hit in the crossfire."

all the boys wince at that.

"sorry, y/n," james cringes.

"we promise we'll let you know," peter assures, sending you a smile.

you return it with a smile of your own and a laugh.

"so," sirius speaks up, "what are you ladies doing here? normally you lot of are gossiping or something."

mary rolls her eyes; "we do not gossip."

sirius just quirks a brow at her.

marlene is quick to jump to her defence; "at least we don't land ourselves in detention weekly."

"touche," sirius laughs.

"actually," lily jumps in, leaning forward on the armrest of james' chair. "y/n needed remus for something, didn't you?"

remus watches as you still as all eyes fall on you. "o-oh," you mumble, meeting remus' eyes nervously. "yeah."

remus turns to you; "is everything okay?"

"oh, yes," you reassure with a shake of your head at the concern in his eyes. "i had a question about something for charms. if you don't mind?"

remus is once again interrupted before he can answer;

"moony was actually just headed to the library," james cuts in with a grin. "you two can head there and he can help you."

remus sends james a glare, shaking his head.

you're a little confused by james' suggestion, but you're not all that bothered as you shrug, and turn to remus. there's a warmth to your cheeks that is subtly there, but otherwise, you smile as normal. "if remus doesn't mind?"

"o-of course not!" remus rushes, perhaps a bit quckly if the surprise in your eyes is anything to go by. he rushes to correct himself. "i mean... i don't mind at all."

-

thirty minutes later and the two of you are alone in the library.

there was only a few other students there so luckily the both of you were able to find a table to yourselves easily. you'd asked him your question about charms and remus had been helpful, like you'd expected.

but now, as the two of you sat there, it was clear neither of you knew what to say.

"s-sorry about them," remus speaks up, voice soft, a moment after lasting silence. "the guys i mean. they-well..."

you frown as remus trails off, turning to him in concern; "remus?"

"i didn't actually have to go to the library." is all he answers with.

your eyes widen. "oh!" you squeak, embarrassed. "i... i'm so sorry! i didn't mean to pull you away from your friends! we totally could've done this–"

"no, no," remus rushes out, shaking his head. "no, that's not what i meant."

you frown, puzzled. remus was being awfully criptic and you didn't really understand why. not to mention, his cheeks were bright red and he was desperately avoiding your gaze which was making you increasingly nervous.

had you done something to upset him?

as far as you knew, there was no full moon approaching. so it couldn't be that. since you'd found out last year, you'd been keeping track of when full moons were happening so you could be there for remus in anyway you can. which, admittedly, wasn't much unfortunately, but you at least liked to know.

reaching forward, you set your hand on his arm, not noticing the way he tenses at your touch.

"remus?" you push gently.

his eyes clench shut and then; "i like you!"

he says it so fast and so suddenly, you don't even recognize what he's said. not at first, anyways. you pause, blinking, as his own eyes slowly flicker open to meet yours nervously.

then, softly, you ask; "you like me?"

he cringes. "yes," he nods, beet red. "i h-have for a while. the boys have been trying to get me to confess for a while, which is why they'd offered us to go the library. so... so we could be alone."

you blink; "oh."

remus takes that the wrong way. "i understand if you don't feel the same!" he rushes, shaking his head at you. "nothing has to change. and i mean... i'd understand if you had... concerns about being with me, so–"

you promptly cut him off by pressing your lips against his own.

the kiss is messy and clumsy, neither of you having any experience. you also pull away quicker than you'd like, but despite remus' confession, you're still nervous so it's instinct as your body pulls away.

meeting remus' eyes, your breathless; "i like you too," you whisper. "and i have no concerns about being with you. at all."

remus' eyes widen. "even... with my monthly problem?"

"even with," you say with no hesitation or doubt. "you know i don't care or see you differently. i... i just, well, like you."

remus smiles at that, finally eased as he laughs lightly. "i like you too."

biting your lip, you grin; "can i kiss you again?"

"please."

-

"you think they're snogging each other?"

"hopefully." lily huffs, "all y/n does is pine after remus."

"same with remus," sirius laughs. "he's madly in love."

marlene laughs; "if they aren't we're going to have to try different methods."

"more forward," mary nods.

james snorts; "nah, they're definitely snogging."

"what makes you so sure?" peter asks, confused.

"look," james nods to his right.

all eyes follow his gesture, five pairs of eyes widening at the sight of you and remus walking into the common room, hand in hand.

"finally!"

[oneshlut]

AHHHHH, YOU WRITE FOR VARIAN??? It's so hard to find anyone who does that- could you possibly write hcs for dating him?

A/N: EEEEK!!! yesyes, varian's one of my favs to write for!!!! i may have a thing for dorks,, ty SOSO much for the request, this was so much fun to write for! (for my followers, or just any1 else.. KEEP REQUESTING VARIAN)

Explosive Heartbeat (Varian x Reader) [Headcanons]

Rules For Requesting

Characters I Will Write For

Masterlist

Summary: General dating/relationship headcanons for Varian

As friends, you're kinda like nerd buddies! Varian would rant to you on and on when you visited him in his lab. After a bit, Ruddiger seemed to grow affectionate towards you, so you kept visiting. You'd help him with his experiments sometimes, but you'd mainly hang out with Ruddiger, reading a book somewhere. The two of you grew close! And.. Varian found himself hoping you'd visit more and more.

As partners? Well, Varian doesn't change much, but he definitely becomes a lot more awkward. He tries at romantic advances, but.. they don't turn out well. While dating him, expect lots of dorky, unsuccessful flirting attempts.

He tries for you, though! Varian doesn't know much about romance, other than how to artificially create it. Which he.. hasn't figured out how to do yet. At least he has a natural source, now. He finds himself relating to a lot more.. lovey-dovey things, that he'd normally never understand. In a way, you opened his eyes to love. All of these emotions, suddenly exploding inside of him--all because of you. Sweet, huh?

Varian often finds himself distracted when you visit. He hardly gets any work done because you're there.. which is partly his fault, for looking at you every 20 seconds. He's grown a love-hate relationship to you visiting. Mainly "love", though.

After you leave, he immediately groans, thinking of all the things he did wrong around you. You can find him ranting to Ruddiger afterwards, mainly complaining about the way you made him feel. Not the way you made him feel, but rather the way you made him act. He feels a fool around you.. and wonders why you even love him back.

Ruddiger isn't gonna stand for that bullcrap. This little rat rascal bites Varian to snap him out of it. Once he gets over his self-concious arc, Varian finds himself smitten. Sometimes he becomes a blushing mess just thinking about you. Now he's tripping over his own feet, (with as awkward as he is), and Ruddiger feels as if he's made him even worse.

About the failed flirtings. They're hysterical. But, talking about some things that actually land in your relationship, are nicknames. For him, you range from Var, nerd, V, to some of the more romantic ones, like "hun". He seems to get flustered at that one. As for romantic nicknames for you? He.. well, he tries. In turn, Varian also uses hun or honey, seeing as they're the most comfortable, but he doesn't use them often. Either calls you by your initial (if it works), or just some inside joke like "geek" or "smart-alec"

Surprisingly, or maybe not, Varian's an absolute sucker for PDA. Him, being the dork he is, will explain to you the physical benefits on the human mind to hugs and physical affection--and when you actually hug him, he'll freeze. He's grown used to your touch, though, and finds himself hugging back most of time time, if you don't startle him. If anything, he loves to hold your hand. If he's opened up enough, he'll let you hold his hand without his gloves.. may not happen often, though. But yes, anywhere you're going, Varian's holding your hand. No way around it.

Sometimes you'd fall asleep at his lab, most likely with a book in your hand, and it's the most adorable thing he's seen. Theres an 89% chance that Ruddiger's there, snuggled up next to you. Varian makes sure to wake you up before it gets late.. on your busy days. If he knows you have nothing to do in the morning.. he'll leave you be to sleep till morning. He knows you need the rest, and you looked too cute peaceful to wake up now. (This situation can go for Varian aswell, especially if he spends nights awake working on experimenting)

As for dates, you two would have many home-dates, but if you're going anywhere, you're going to the library! Despite the location being extremely tame, he still feels nervous asking you out. Corona's libraries were always quiet and peaceful, and the best place for Varian to nerd out to you about any chemistry books that they happened to have. Either this, or a field somewhere out in Old Corona. Exploring dates were fun aswell, where one of you would take a backpack and just wander around the forests, chatting about any little thing that comes to your mind. If nowhere else--Monty's sweet shop, if it's a special day of sorts, like the Day of Hearts.

Oh, how could I forget? The Day of Hearts was always a holiday that Varian would pass over, seeing as he had more important things to do than indulge himself in romance with.. himself only. So when you reminded him about it, he almost spit out his hot cocoa. And if he was being completely honest, he most definitely forgot about it. Feels slightly ashamed, but now excited for the holiday! Excited to spend it with you, mainly.. And of course, you sign the journal together. Varian's still a nervous wreck, so his signature was a bit more shaky than he'd like it to be. It was the thought that counted.. right? If you stumble into Rapunzel and Eugene at the festival, expect lots of adoring coo-ing from Rapunzel and relentless teasing from Eugene. He's still as dorky and sarcastic as ever when confronted with the teasing, but the fit of flushed red on his face gave away everything you needed to know.

But Rapunzel's right. The two of you are extremely cute together, you even look like you were made for each other! The simple thought of that makes Varian want to faint, but he'll come to terms with it eventually. Just know that romance is definitely not his strong suit, but he managed to not draw you away, so he's gotta be doing something. Otherwise, Varian stays his loveable, dorky, sarcastic self. But now, with just a little bit more of hand holding.

And you did sign the Day of Hearts journal together, so if that doesn't give you a telltale sign of where your relationship is going, I don't know what will.

[obsessedelusional]

bane of your existence

paring ↬ Abby Anderson x fem!reader

summary ↬ Isaac pairs you with hard headed, Abby Anderson. She can’t keep a patrol partner to safe her life. That is until she meets you, the two of you slowly become close. Maybe a little too close because apparently everyone thinks the two of you are an item.

word count ↬ 2k

authors note ↬ first Abby oneshot omg!! I am so far up Abby Andersons ass that legally I have no choice but to write for her. Here’s a cute lil fluffy moment. I got more stuff in the works, hope y’all enjoy ᜊ☻︎

Feedback & Reblogs are helpful and extremely appreciated!! ((poorly proofread))

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

“Wake up.”

You groan and turn your back to insufferable voice that wakes you up way too damn early everyday. It’s a lost cause there’s a pair of hands shaking you gently. Which is strange because normally they’re a lot rougher with you.

“What time is it?” You ask still not facing her.

“5:45.”

“We don’t have to be there till eight. Why are you awake so damn early?” You snap, sitting up in your bunk. Facing the bane of your existence, Abby Anderson. Or so you pretend secretly enjoying her constant annoyance.

“Couldn’t sleep. So I thought it’d be best we head out early to catch the scars off guard.” Abby explains, stood there arms crossed looking down at you.

—

Three months ago the two of you we’re partnered for patrol. You didn’t know much about her before that, only the negative comments you heard from coworkers. Abby didn’t have the nicest personality and that often rubbed people the wrong way. Her hard headed ways make her nearly impossible to work with. Doesn’t help her case that when she’s not working she alone in some corner of the base, nose in a book. Often ignoring anyone’s attempt at a conversation. Only friendly to the people she joined the WLF with and half those relationships strained by the past.

Isaac thought your positive attitude would rub off on Abby. Buttering you up with compliments about your ability to not take anyones shit, calling you stubborn without using the word. Then talking about how she’s been through several partners in the last year, the longest lasting less than a month. Ever since Manny left his position to do something else, leaving her alone.

By the end he was borderline begging and following it up with apologies. You walked out of his office filled with curiosity about this mysterious women. The next day Abby was in your room uninvited and waking you up way too early. Somehow you’ve lasted this long and now you’re roommates. Manny moving out of bunk to be with his girlfriend and you having no roommate, Isaac made the decision to room you two together. Which only made Abby’s presence more constant.

Which is fine for the most part, you’d never admit it but part of you enjoys it. The constant bickering is fun and sometimes Abby lets a side of her personality slip you’ve never seen before. The two of you unintentionally becoming friends, which Abby would never say out loud. She even started hanging out with your friends. Probably spending an entirely too much time together, people began to take notice.

—

You stand up from your bed and make the short walk to your dresser, finding your work clothes for the day. Abby sits in a chair, fumbling with her backpack as an attempt to not watch you undress. You had caught Abby’s eyes lingering one second too long the first week. You looked back at Abby and her eyes were so obviously on your ass. She looked up a second later and saw you smirking. That was the end of that and now she does everything in her power to not get caught. Today you quickly get ready, sensing Abby’s eagerness to leave.

“Hurry up.” She says as you’re almost done.

“Why are you in such a hurry? We’re going to be two hours early at this point.” You ask, irritated.

“Quit complaining.” She spits.

“Quit being such a hard ass.” You spit back. Abby only rolls her eyes in response, so you add: “I don’t want to hear shit about my bad attitude today.”

“You always have a bad attitude.” Abby says, with a small grin.

“Do not.” You scoff at her comment.

“Do too.”

“Never did before. I think you’re starting to rub off on me. Or maybe it’s cause I keep getting waken up before my alarm has a chance to go off.” You explain, grabbing your backpack and pulling it on.

“What? You don’t like waking up early?” Abby ask, playfully already knowing the answer. Part of her loving to hear you complain.

“No.”

“Morning patrols aren’t that bad. You wake up early get off early. Have the rest of the day to do stuff.” Abby explains, trying to make you feel better.

“Yeah maybe. But I usually end up working even longer because you want to get out of here early. An eight hour shift turns into a nine or ten hour shift. One day you had me out there for twelve hours Abby.” You retort, bitterness heavy in your tone.

“You are the moodiest person in this entire base.” Abby says.

“Wasn’t before.” You speak flatly causing Abby to smile, getting closer.

“You’re such a brat.” She says, smile never leaving her mouth.

“Whatever. I know you like it.” You respond, smiling back at Abby.

“How bout we make a deal? You try to not be a brat today and I’ll try to not be such a hard ass.” Abby suggests, laughing as she squeezes your cheeks together as if you were a child.

“I don’t think I’m capable.” You speak. Abby’s hands smooshing your cheeks together. Pulling away to put one finger on your lips, shushing you.

“Just try, okay?” Abby asks, looking down at you with a pout and those damn eyes that’ll get you to do anything.

“Ughh I guess but only since you asked so nicely.” You respond suddenly hitting you that Abby is being way nicer than normal. What is her deal today?

“Really?” She grins.

“Yes let’s go.” Abby chuckles and then grabs your hand, gently nudging you forward. She’s slowly become more touchy since the two do you met but this takes it to a whole another level. When the two of you leave the room she doesn’t let go. You let the both of you walk a few feet before stopping in your tracks and looking at your hands intertwined.

“Are you holding my hand?” You question, causing Abby to realize and her face goes pink.

“Huh? Oh.. uhm.. I guess I am.” She awkwardly smiles, still not letting go.

“I mean I don’t mind. Just know you wouldn’t want to give everybody the wrong impression.” You respond, slightly traumatized from the first time you tried to sit with her in the mess hall and she went off on you about how she didn’t want anyone to think you were her friend.

“Pfft. They already think we’re in a relationship, or we will be sometime soon. What’s the harm in holding your hand?” Abby says casually, rolling her eyes as if your concern is ridiculous. She attempts to keep walking but you’re stood still, not willing to end this conversation so soon.

“They think that?” You ask.

“Yeah, they do. You should hear them gossiping during dinner. It’s all about us.” Abby says looking down at you and laughing slightly.

“How have I never heard this?” You question.

“It’s because you always head directly for you bunk room to rest after dinner. They’ll start talking about us as soon as you leave.” She explains as if this isn’t a big deal.

“What else do they say?”

“Oh. Uhm... they mainly talk about your... uh.... assets.. yeah.. that’s it.” She blushed slightly thinking about it.

“My assets? Ew.” You cringe at the thought.

“Hey I think your... ‘assets’ are fine.” She smirks, face somehow more red than before. You eyes go wide in response, it’s a rare occasion that Abby says something nice. Let alone a compliment that borders on flirting.

“Are you flirting with me?” You ask because you never know with her and you need to desperately make sense of what’s happening.

“Errr.. ummmm.. no I am not.” She nervously looks away, couldn’t help but start chuckling at her own awkwardness.

“Abby Anderson. You totally-.” You say, teasingly poking at her chest. She puts her hands over your mouth as an attempt to shush you.

“They probably think that because we work together, hang out and live together. We’re always together.” She explains trying to change the subject from her flirty comment.

“Or do they think this because you said something? Planted it in there head.” You ask, teasing as you pull Abby’s hand away from your mouth.

“Ok I may have said something. Which turned it into a whole thing.” She admits.

“Something?” You ask curiously.

“They were making some crude comments about your body. And one of them joked that I would know. I may or may not have agreed that I would know.” Abby explains, part of her embarrassments that she entertained them for even a second. In the end being grateful because them think you two were an item got them to shut up. The teasing now focused on Abby, wanting to know more about said relationship that didn’t actually exist.

“Are you mad..?” She looks at you, still holding your hand as you both walked down a long staircase to an area outside of the stadium.

“No it’s kinda cute.” You smile.

“You think it’s cute that they all think we’re in love?” She laughs.

“Yeah but just because you made them think that. No wonder Manny’s been teasing me about you.” You explain, connecting the dots as you speak.

“He’s been teasing you?”

“Yeah always telling me my *girlfriends* looking for me. Shit like that.”

“Your girlfriend?!” She grins at the thought before adding. “Well I am looking for you all the time.”

“Apparently you’re obsessed with me.” You joke, laugh leaving your mouth.

“I am. Just a little bit.” Abby responds, leading you out of the stadium and to where everyone starts patrols. Still holding your hand. As the two of you exit the stadium, you notice that Isaac is standing outside with a small group of people. He immediately takes notice of the two of you holding hands. Making a face as he looked back at the patrol, saying something inaudible to the them.

“Oooh does Abby have a girlfriend?” Manny hollers before laughing. Abby’s face is filled with so many emotions and before you can say anything Isaac’s say something.

“It’s about damn time. I was starting to think the two of you didn’t have feelings for each other after all.” He smiles.

“Can we start this patrol so I can stop be the center of attention?” Abby asks, ignoring everything everyone’s said.

“Or so you two can be alone?” Manny teases, causing everyone to laugh.

“Shut up.” Abby growls, pulling you away from everyone. You wave goodbye at everyone as Abby drags you away to start the patrol. Manny gives you two thumbs up which only adds to Abby’s irritation.

“You never answered. Do you have a girlfriend?” You ask teasing, curious about her answer.

“I don’t know. Do I?”

“You’re gonna have to ask for yourself and find out.” You tease causing Abby to groan outloud.

“You’re really gonna make me ask?” She asks, followed by rolling her eyes.

“Yeah.” You smirk, wanting the word to come out Abby’s mouth.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” She says annoyed.

“Mmm I’ll have to think about it.” You joke, watching Abby get more annoyed. “Just kidding yeah.” You laugh, finally bringing a smile to Abby’s face. Before you could register what’s happening Abby is stopped, pressing her lips into yours. You kiss back for a few moments, Abby eventually being the one to pull away.

“That was amaizng.” Abby purrs.

“Mhmm.” You smile, nodding.

“Just cause we’re dating now. Don’t think I’m gonna be any less of a hard ass.” Abby says, going back to her annoying self.

“We’ll see about that.” You tease, walking ahead of Abby. Abby grabs your wrist pulling you back to her. Abby grins kissing you again, knowing damn well she’d do whatever you asked.

[scatteredskittless]

Greetings fellow human, I recently found you and I must say, I love your writing and especially the layout of the posts.

I might also suggest an Idea for you with Alastor.

How 'bout a very passionate painter reader getting their nightly inspiration and staying up all night, also listening to loud music. And maybe being a little messy with the paint, like it somehow ending up on the face or different unusual spots.

Would love to see you write it in whatever form you prefer. Hope to read something from you soon.

And keep in mind, you're doing a great job and keep being amazing <3

Alastor x Painter! Reader

A/n: Omg I used to paint a lot and the places said paint would get?? How it ended up like literally all over me I’m not sure 😭😭 Also thank you so much !!

Warnings: None :3

Fluff✔️ Comfort❌ Angst❌ Smut❌

📻𖤐 Alastor finds you very talented and enjoys getting to see all of your little creations and masterpieces !!

📻𖤐 Bonus points if they’re a bit disturbing or dark, he’d love stuff like that (“Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable” — Cesar A. Cruz)

📻𖤐 The only thing he isn’t particularly fond of in regards to your passion, however, is how little sleep you’re getting because of it.

📻𖤐 Your sleep schedule is completely fucked because of how often you get inspiration while trying to go to bed at night, because of course you just have to get up and go paint it every time.

📻𖤐 Oh and how messy you can get whilst you paint… which Alastor doesn’t actually mind as much as he wants you to think he does.

📻𖤐 He can shake his head and tut about it all he wants but he can’t deny the fact that getting to clean you up is something he enjoys doing for you.

📻𖤐 Plus, it’s always entertaining to see all the peculiar places the paint ends up on you each time he does. From your cheeks to your arms to more unusual places like your ears… it genuinely never does get old in his eyes ♡

It was another one of those nights. You were lying in your bed, trying to get some sleep and all of a sudden you got an amazing idea for a painting !! You couldn’t help but get up to go bring your ideas to life on a fresh canvas :-)

You went on with your usual routine, playing some music as you got your stuff all set up. Once everything was ready, off you were into your own little world as you painted away at 2:30 at night

Fortunately and unfortunately for Alastor, your room was right beside his. The walls were quite thin in the hotel.. even so, the loud music blaring wasn’t exactly hard to miss but it was even harder to fully relax with it playing.

You usually stopped your painting at around 7 or 8 in the morning so he figured this was going to be a long night….. he sighed to himself and went back to reading for a while (or at least attempting to for around 10 minutes or so.)

Eventually he did recognize a song you had playing, you’d played it for him before. It was after his time but he did quite like the melody

That’s when he got an idea of his own. his undying grin growing slightly as he bookmarked his book, set it to the side and made his way next door to your room.

He knocked on your door three times, waiting outside of it patiently as he heard you set your painting materials down. His ears twitched slightly.

Once you answered the door he waltzed inside cheerfully, not giving you a chance to speak or ask why he was here.

“Salutations my dear!! Up to the usual, I assume?” Alastor would ask, taking a curious look at the canvas you had been working on before glancing back over at you.

You gave him a smile and nodded “Yeah.. got a little inspiration and wanted to paint it before I forgot it.”

“Hm. Well, would it be too much to ask to pull you away from your work for a while?” He raised a brow as he tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, offering you his hand; offering a dance. And honestly you weren’t too surprised.

With a giggle and the grow of your smile, you happily took his hand and let him pull you closer to him as you two began to dance to the song playing in the background, your little masterpiece-in-progress long forgotten as you swayed with your favourite Radio Demon.

Please do not repost, translate, or plagarize any of my fanfictions/headcanons/writing without permission ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞

ᯓ★ Scatteredskittles

[suashii]

୨♡୧ YOU SHINE LIKE STARLIGHT— dan heng x reader. sfw. fluff.

note! this is my first time writing for the fandom + dan heng so pls be kind! enjoy ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

dan heng's limbs feel heavy when he boards the train. he offers himkeo and mr. yang a short nod before making his way to the passenger cabin. his body is practically screaming for him to get some much-needed rest but there are a few things he wants to review in the data bank before he does so.

the door to the archive room opens with a quiet whoosh. dan heng sheds himself of the armor on his shoulder and leans his spear in the corner while he slips out of his shoes. he inhales a breath of air through a yawn, tears forming in the corners of his eyes as he walks up the two steps to get to the computer.

"hey." the unexpected sound of a voice makes dan heng's shoulders jerk up in surprise. he whips his head in the direction of it to find you situated on the floor with a book in your hand. but you aren't just in just any spot on the floor—you've gotten comfortable in his makeshift bed. "how'd it go?"

he doesn't think it should, but the sight makes his mouth go dry. for a moment, all the man can do is stare with parted lips. you've been in and out of here plenty before but he can't say he's ever seen you so snug—not in the desk chair and never under his blanket. dan heng isn't sure why the view makes his palms sweaty and his cheeks warm.

he clears his throat and continues on his path to the desk, answering your question with one of his own. "what are you doing here?"

"reading." you gently wave your book in the air to emphasize your statement. "you said i could stop by whenever."

he did tell you that and he meant it but dan heng never expected that the invitation would have extended to his sleeping quarters. he doesn't bother elaborating on the context of "here" in his query, only nods and taps away at the keyboard in front of him in a poor attempt to stop thinking about how cute you look in his bed and the strange way it makes him feel.

a beat of silence passes before you speak up again. "you dodged my question."

lithe fingers dancing along keys still for a split second with your statement. dan heng hums as he continues with his search. he should have known you wouldn't let that slip; for as long as you've been on the express you've been perceptive. it's an admiral trait, he thinks, although, during moments such as these, your keen eye seems to be working against him.

"you didn't run into too much trouble, right? no injuries or anything?" you ask.

there's a heavy thump against dan heng's chest that follows your voiced concerns for him. he's still getting used to that—someone asking about him, worrying about him. it's foreign, the care you seem hellbent on showing him, but he'd be lying to himself if he said it didn't make him feel warm inside. still, dan heng hasn't found an effective way to express his gratitude quite yet. "you really consider little of me if you think i walked away with anything more than a scratch."

you close your book with a cheery laugh that drifts through the air and kisses dan heng's ears. the sound is light and sweet and one the man doesn't hear nearly as often as he'd like. even now, you're readying to leave.

he turns in his chair to watch your rise from his mat and stretch your arms above your head. you meet his sparkling blue eyes as you do so, offering him a sleepy smile. "well, make sure you get a bandaid on that scratch."

dan heng can't help the quiet huff of air that comes from his nose at your words. he appreciates that too, the way you entertain his dry humor.

"and maybe think about sleeping in an actual bed tonight instead of on the floor." you gesture to his setup as you comb the bookshelves for the empty spot where you pulled the leather-bound journal from. the next part of your sentence comes while you carefully return the book to its rightful place. "your muscles will thank you."

the door to the archive room slides open with your prompting. before you take your leave, you turn back to the man and raise your hand in a wave. "good night and sweet dreams."

the room is blanketed in silence after your departure. dan heng's mind wanders back to you and your presence as he wraps up his research. the cabin felt much more lively and far less cold with you in it. tranquility has never bothered him but he's slowly beginning to learn that he prefers the illumination that radiates from you. he'd choose that over the stillness any day.

less than an hour passes before the fatigue catches up with dan heng. as he stands from his chair, he glances at his mat on the floor. he hasn't considered touching the room set aside for him since he boarded the express but, at your suggestion, he just might.

thanks for reading! consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed ❤︎

[genshin-impact-unofficial]

Naughty Little Secret Pt.2

Reactions of Genshin men finding your spicy literature.

Ft. Childe, Albedo, and Alhaitham  (Aka blue eyed boy edition)

(PART 1) Ft. Diluc, Cyno, and Thoma  (PART 3) Ft. Scaramouche, Itto, and Xiao

Tags: PG-13, Sexual Themes, GN!Reader, Technically SFW, Crushes, TW!Blood (Albedo) but it’s very mild, LOTS OF TEASING Notes: I swear my first time writing a character always turns out so long. I so appreciate everyone cheering me on tho! Feel free to send suggestions to my inbox! 💘(Repost!)

Childe

Spicy romance novels were your guilty pleasure. After a rough week at work, you deserved to sit back at Yanshang Teahouse and let the flow of words on the pages guide your imagination. You held your newest purchase in your hand and pondered if the cover art was a coincidence. Perhaps deep down, you subconsciously picked the book with a pretty ginger boy on the cover.

Tartagalia hadn’t visited Liyue in a while... and maybe there was a part of you that missed the tall handsome Snezhnayan boy just a tiny bit. You were a tad totally heartbroken when your friend departed from the harbor. He would come by your work quite often just to chat and whenever he had time to kill. Eventually, his company and charming words just became a part of your routine. It was impossible not to be dazzled by the boy’s abundant attention. But as time passed and you felt confident that you were completely over your little crush. You shook your head of those thoughts, it wasn’t important why you chose the book you did. You were here to enjoy yourself and you were hell bound to do just that.

The orange haired protagonist finds himself swept up in trouble much bigger than himself. To protect what’s dearest to him, he becomes a spy to an organization he holds no loyalty to. While behind enemy lines, he meets a girl who sees right through the mask he puts on. She not only figures out he’s a spy, but also sees his bleeding heart that has the ability to turn for the better. Your heart ached for the boy. The way he was stuck between his duties and who he loved made you feel endless sympathy for the protag. He had to betray one in the end to accomplish the other. 

His mission was going to be completed in the morning. After that, he would never see the girl again. The handsome ginger spilled his feeling, laying himself out bare to the girl he loved. She knows, she always did, and she wanted to show him now on their last night. Emotions flood forward as their bodies tangle with one another. He wants her to feel his earnest passion.  He wants to bring her joy, to bring her the happiness she deserved, to bring her pleasure...  A low familiar whistle pulled your mind from the scene. No way...

“Huh, so this is what you do while I’m away...” A cheeky voice teased. You whipped your head to look at the widest shit eating grin that you’ve ever seen since.... well since he left.  

“Tartagalia? What- When did you?” You were reeling and sputtered in surprise and embarrassment. You attempted redirect his attention and tuck the novel behind you as a last ditch effort to save your pride. But alas, Ajax was not known to be a merciful guy.  

“Ah ah ah Y/N, I hadn’t got a good look at that last page. I just have to know about those ‘rippling abs’ mentioned.” Childe playfully reached behind you and snagged the book from your grip. You tried to swipe it back but his reflexes were too fast. “You don’t mind sharing right?”

“I’m serious give it back Childe!”  You threatened, but it only spurred him further. He had a whole head up on you, and was talking full advantage of it. Childe held the book open above you and dramatically cleared his throat before reciting naughty lines from the passages. Your felt your face burn red in both embarrassment and now absolute fury. 

This kid was so dead!

Albedo

There was urgency in your steps while you trekked through the snowy path. You visited Dragonspine enough times to know the beaten trail even when covered in fresh snow, but it was still your least favorite part of coming to the lab. If you had to list your favorite part, well...... your friend Albedo wasn’t exactly terrible to look at. You were glad to see him again so soon. Typically, you purposely spaced out your visits up the mountain, but when you received a letter asking for your assistance in a research matter you really couldn’t say no. 

As junior librarian of the knights, you were tasked with dropping off books and other study material to Albedo’s lab. It’s a grueling task but the two of you got along very well so you were always happy to do it. That being said, you weren’t exactly a person of science and opted reading into history and arts most times. Through years of knowing Albedo, you had to set a clear cut boundary on being a test rat for the alchemist. So far he has respected your wishes, so you didn’t assume it was why he’d call you out here. The curiosity was almost as bad as the blistering cold hitting your nose. As soon as the light illuminating from the lab was in view, you rushed forward desperate for warmth. 

“Y/N, I’ve been awaiting you.” Albedo greeted you kindly. 

“Hey Albe-” The words died in your throat when you caught sight of your friend. The blond’s hair was free from its usual up-do, messy locks framed the boys handsome features and flowed over his shoulders. Albedo’s neat attire was now lax, his knightly accessories nowhere to be seen. What could be seen was the expanse of the alchemist’s collarbone since two additional buttons were undone on his dress shirt. Somehow even while fully clothed, it felt indecent to witness him like this. “Is... everything alright Albedo?” You asked, averting your eyes to keep from ogling your friend. 

“Of course.” Albedo answered easily, his voice was low and sultry. “Please take a seat Y/N. I have something urgent that needs your eyes.” He directed you, cocking his head towards the small table. Your brain was short circuiting and all you could think to do was obediently sit. You had never seen the serious and calculated man like this but you weren’t exactly complaining either. Albedo served you a cup of hot tea and opted to lean against the table instead of sitting. 

“So... um what did you need me to look at.” You asked awkwardly, unsure what to do with yourself. 

“Well obviously I want you to look at me Y/N” A light smirk formed across Albedo’s lips and he smoothly leaned over your chair. Your eyes followed every single movement while your face quickly began to heat up. Where was all of this coming from? Should you be concerned? 

“W- what do you mean by that?” You blurted out, mind racing a mile a minute.

“I want you to-” Everything came to a screeching halt when your chair, that Albedo had been leaning on, began to tilt backwards. Both you and blond were sent crashing to the ground, ruining any kind of mood that was building. Your head ached from where you bumped it but Albedo intentionally took the brunt of it, completely face-planting into the hard floor. 

“Albedo are you alright??” You hovered over him. The boy simply turned to you and blinked. His stoic expression was more akin to what you typically were used to. 

“I apologize Y/N. It seems I didn’t fully grasp the concepts in the experiment before executing it. Are you hurt?” He stood up and carefully helped you to your feet. He examined you for any signs of injury, regardless of his obviously bleeding nose. 

“Im good, the chair broke most of my fall. You on the other hand...” You grabbed a handkerchief and try to assist him. “Wait... experiment? Is that what this is all about?” You accused, slightly irked. 

“Yes, I saw a fascinating book among the study material you left behind recently. I assumed that it was a new subject you had recommended for me.” Albedo stated simply. “Its contents was um... quite intimate at times, but I thought it was a interesting perspective on forming human connections.” You felt froze, but this time not from the blistering cold. 

“Did the book have um.... did it have a pair of cuffs on the front?” You asked, praying to the archons that you were mistaken.

“Yes, I studied it extensively.” Albedo replied without a hint of shame on his features.  You replayed his interactions and what had just transpired in your head and looked back over to your friend.

“Okay two things. One, don’t you dare breathe a word to anyone about that book or else I’ll be very upset with you. And two, that was fucking hilarious.” You bursted out in laughter at the absurdity of the whole happenstance. Albedo gazed back at you confused, but your amusement was undeniably infectious. He smiled fondly back at you. Although the experiment couldn’t be labeled a success, the outcome was still one he found pleasing.  

Alhaitham

It was grueling working in the Akademiya recently. The overthrow of power left everyone with plenty to do. You would go mad from attending meeting after meeting if you didn’t have some sort of stress outlet. Writing was a way you liked to ease your mind, like an escape of sorts. You loved writing loose plots for light novels and dreamed to one day send an entry to the “Wow This Novel is Amazing!” contest in Inazuma. You were far from a finished manuscript, but it’s days like these that gave you inspiration. After working through piles of paperwork, you earned yourself a moment of indulgence. Especially when stress was eating you alive, your scenes tended to take a turn for the... suggestive. 

The scene opened to the main character pondering why their mentor kept themselves at arms length. She respected him immensely and strives to uphold his reputation by improving her skill. He was young and handsome, skilled far beyond his years. They held a close bond, closer than either of them have ever experienced. Now it was unclear why he was giving her such a cold shoulder. She confronts her mentor about the reasons behind his actions. He expresses his pride in her, how she has come far in the their time together. But for her to achieve new highs, she must leave him behind. His feelings for her would only be a hindrance now. 

She felt the tension between them for some time now. It was lingered in soft bushes between fingers, meaningful glances over meals, and caring gestures done without thinking. She’s fallen for the beautiful man, to a point that it wasn’t logical. No words need to be exchanged, only body heat. Arms hold onto the other in yearning desperation. Lips hungrily meet, as if they’ll never to be sated. Her want clouds all her senses and she could feel his willingness to give her everything, all of him. Hot needy breaths trail down her body, discarding any clothes that stood barrier, until he finally put his mouth directly on- 

“Busy Y/N?” The amused man asked from the doorway. You jump in response, quickly pushing aside the parchment that you were writing on. 

“Alhaitham! What are you doing here?” You pipe up, surprised to see your friend for more than one reason. Alhaitham had been promoted to acting grand sage while the rest was still settling, he had to be incredibly busy. 

“I see you’re not very excited to see me,” Alhaitham teased, strolling casually into your office anyway. “Even after I went through the trouble of coming to grab the data reports myself and pay you a visit.” He tsked. 

“You came to see me? Ah, so you need a favor.” You playfully jabbed back, easily finding comfort in the other’s company. It really had been quite a while. If it weren’t for the man’s inflated ego, you might have told him that you’ve missed him. 

“You wound me. It’s not an oddity for colleagues reconnect reminisce while also carrying out an errand for the acting great sage.” Alhaitham replied smoothly, not bothering to go through the motions and pretend to act hurt.

“Yikes, already pulling the ‘acting great sage’ card.” You chuckle. Alhaitham and you have worked closely together for years, so you didn’t mind going out of your way to do him a favor. But maybe one day he would learn that all he had to do was ask nicely. 

“It would be foolish to not use the assets as they are presented to me.” The former scribe shrugged. He opened his mouth as if to continue the witty banter, but a beep from on his person alerted him of something. “I’ll have to brief you later. I’ll just take the data reports and be on my way.”

“Right, here it goes.” You handed him the prepared stack of papers on your desk and just like that Alhaitham was gone, off to his next endeavor. Wow he really is swamped now a days. You thought, ready to get back into your writing. Ideas kept flowing through you as you looked for the parchment you just had.... Wait it was just right here. Oh no.

-

“ALHAITHAM! I NEED THE DATA REPOR-” You barged into acting grand sage’s office, which was no easy feat. You were stopped again and again by all the matra crawling about. Your mouth ran dry when spotted the parchment in the smirking man’s hands. You wished the floor would just open up and swallow you whole so that you wouldn’t have to look at that cocky handsome face. 

“The data report? Certainly, it’s right over there on the desk.” Alhaitham stated, not bothering to take his eyes off your handwriting. “I’m still going over some of it now and I have to say, it’s quite in depth.” He went on.

“You are such a jerk! Give it!” You resorted to trying to snatch it, but the former scribe easily turned away without sparing you even a single glance. You knew what he wanted and damn did it feel like making a deal with the devil. “I’ll owe you a favor, no questions asked. Just hand it over and keep your mouth shut.” 

“Two favors.” He bargained without batting an eye.

“You’re pushing it-”

“One is for my silence and the other for the safe return of your... passion project.” Alhaitham interjected, finally tearing his eyes from your writing to shoot you a glance above the paper. You willed a stern expression onto your face, even while a furious blush bloomed cross your cheeks. A curt nod sealed the agreement and the man casually returned the parchment to you as promised. You snatched the paper from him and averted your gaze.

“Y/N you have quite the knack for imagery.” Alhaitham added slyly. You expected he would tease you a little longer, so you braced yourself for the worst. What you did’t expect was the tall man to lean over you with his hand braced on the desk. Your eyes shot up to his in surprise. “If you’re ever in need for another peer review, I’d be happy to offer my services.” He winked. 

<A/N: These men need to be stopped>

[multifandomfanatic02]

"You didn't know, pt.1"

Pairing: Alastor x fem!OC?? (pulled the name out of a hat honestly)

Warning: mentions of r*pe, detailed murder,

Summary: it was never mentioned as to why Alastor turned to murder. Maybe it could have been because he lost someone important to him? Who knows really?

a/n: I tried my best to stick to Alastor's character and respect his sexuality. If you think this needs any improvement or if you have some kind criticism, please let know! And if this liked enough I'll make a part two! (itsbeentwelveyearssinceihavewrittenanythingpleasebenice)

Spring of 1915

Alastor had been a victim of his mother's matchmaking since he was seventeen. Seven dates have been attempted in 5 years total.

No, he was more focused on his occupation as a writer. What Alastor was truly in love with, the smooth jazz that blessed his ears, to the dancing, the books. He was clearly an art enthusiast. And there was one artist's work he admired more than anything. Lillian Fletcher. She was a high position in a very popular magazine and newspaper. Decided what was trendy and what wasn't. While her job is more in the line of sales, Lillian's colleagues agree to let her put her own articles in them. They get hella cash flow.

Crazy as it is, no one has seen what she looked like. When conferences with celebrities happen, it's like she's there in spirit and the articles just show up in the papers one day. I guess you could say it's what Alastor admired about Lillian, she was obviously a humble woman. Someone who cared about her work as much as he did his. Even more so loved the same things he did.

A special night was approaching, Alastor was going to join the press as a journalist for a conference. Even get to do an interview with the famous guest. It was such a grand occasion, he wore his best suit. A black suit rimmed with red buttons and red seams around the collar and of course a red dress shirt underneath. Took the breath away from most of the women that glanced at him during the little shindig.

"Look at my handsome little man, I'm so proud of you, mon cœur." Alastor's mother beams at him with pride, rubbing her fingers against his cheek. He grabs her hand and guides her to the bar.

"Thanks mama, I'm really glad you get to be here with me tonight. Can't imagine anyone else to spend this night with, I mean that." Her eyes start to swell as tears spill out of them. He chuckles wiping them away with the back of his hand. The lights finally begin to dim and the guest comes out on stage. "It's time mama, I need to join the crowd." Alastor unpockets his pen and pad and walks to the chaos of the press unfolding before him.

2 hours gone by and he gets maybe 3 questions out of him. This guest isn't particularly nice. He's obviously rushing the journalist and being very um.. kind of an asshole with his replies. Then again it was to be expected from this one. It's why he's Alastor first real job after all.

"Can you please answer respectfully for once? Stop being an ass to the people who will write your story one day." Everything goes quiet and all heads turn to the back of the crowd. A woman.

"Who are you to speak to me that way, slut." He says giving her a disdainful expression.

"I apologize sir, I just want to know as to why you treat everyone like garbage."

"Miss.. does your husband know you are here." He scoffs, taken aback by the woman's comment.

"I am not married, sir." Her eyes are stoic, there's no signs of kidding on her face.

"That explains a lot. No one wants a woman with a mouth like that.. anyhow, ma'am I think you are done here. Guards! See to it that this.. woman.. leaves the building." He snaps his fingers calling the guards over.

Everyone in the crowd obviously disgusted by attitude. Who gave her the right to talk to HIM that way. Only one pair of eyes saw her differently than anyone else. Alastor. She was glorious. He has never seen someone so beautiful in AND out like this before. The woman wore a royal blue drop-waist dress made of silk and velvet with beads and tiers. Thick mid length hair pinned up in a bob, in attempt to keep it all in place. Pearls adorned her neck beautifully.

He walked out the building following loosely behind, his hand rubbing the back of his neck briefly.

"Are you alright, miss?" He speaks softly to her, trying to not speak the woman.

"Ah yes, thank you, I apologize for my behavior back there. You didn't have to come after me." She hugs her arms and paces back and forth, irritation clearly visible on her face.

"I believe it was very much needed. He certainly needed to be put in his place. Who better than you." Alastor's lips grew into a soft grin. She stopped pacing finally taking a really good look at him. Handsome, is all she thought. "May I ask for your name?" He bent down grabbing her hand kissing the back of it.

A blush flooded her face from her cheeks to the tips of the ears. "L-Lillian Fletcher... and you are?" He looked up in shock to her response, clearing his throat.

"My name is Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure indeed!" His smile turned into a starstruck expression. "So you are the Lillian Fletcher that works for the magazine?!" She nodded nervously as Alastor struggled to keep his cool. "I love your articles and sales pitches! It's what inspired me to shoot my shot with an actual job in journalism. I've been writing for as long as I can remember."

"I'm so glad to hear that, my job is my everything. I'm very passionate about it." Her hand hovers over her mouth to hide her giggle.

"Say, Ms. Fletcher, would you like to have dinner with me?" He holds out his arm for her to take as she gladly accepts, wrapping her hand around it with a smile.

"Call me Lili."

Summer of 1917

"How do I look, mama?" Lillian looked at her future mother in law, holding back her tears. Her knuckle grazed under her eyes to keep from ruining the makeup. The dress she wore was an ivory colored low v-neck dress full of lace and the sleeves were nothing but loose tassels. The most gorgeous wedding dress you'd have ever seen. Her hair was neatly curled and pinned up, feathered boa wrapped around her back and arms, elbow length silk gloves, a string of pearls around the neck, and finally a flower crown. Never has someone looked so elegant.

Alastors hands ran through his hair pacing around in the dressing room. No way was this perfect day about to happen for him. He never thought that one day he'd be married. Alastor has always kept to himself, never found anyone attractive enough. He believed the romance life wasn't for him. While it's partly true, he surely was in love deeply. However both agreed that they never wanted children. Never thought they needed to have intimacy to have love. It would be the perfect life with their work, passions and each other of course.

"Ooo honey, you are looking handsome. Can't wait for you to see Lillian. She's glowing." She says letting herself into his room. She walks towards and pulls him down by the collar to fix his bow tie. "My baby boy, finally getting married."

"Thank you mama, for everything. I'll be sure to pass on your jambalaya recipe to her." He snickers, getting a whack in the arm from her.

"Don't start with me now, boy, you're never to old for a whoopin. You hear me?"

-----

The wedding has started in the chapel and everyone takes their seats. Alastor already tearing up from the band playing music. His fingers fidgeting with eachother in front of him. His bride in all her glory walking down the aisle as if she was a star in the sky.

They took each other's hands holding their breaths as the priest gets through his speech. The wedding was very simple and short event. Due to both groom and bride's status, it was best to keep it a secret and only allow close family. Meaning Alastor's mom and their pet black cat.. Lucifer.

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride." That moment lasted for what felt like forever.

Winter of 1928.

Eleven years have passed, both are 34 years of age and their relationship has nothing but flourished since they were married.

Lillian has retired from her life of writing for the public to devote herself to her husband. It's been peaceful and life has never felt better. Alastor on the other hand was promoted to radio host as soon as they were being sold to consumers. It's one thing to write it all out on paper but another to broadcast his interviews and music live to listeners with similar interests. It was... a thrill to him. He and his wife have became quite the team on radio. She often helps him figure out pitches to his audience to boost it.

"Al dear, don't you think it's time for bed?" Lillian's hands wrapped around his neck and ran down his chest, leaning down enough to place a kiss on his head. "You've been working on next week's interview all day. Time to rest, darling."

He sighs and squeezes her hand before nodding. "Alright mon amour." He stands up dragging his feet to their shared bed, tucking each other in. Lillian stroked his hair in hopes to bring him some comfort. He pulls her into his chest. "I will never love anyone other than you. You are mine for eternity."

-------

"Why haven't you told me about this before?!"

"I just didn't want you to worry about it.. you've got a big show coming up soon."

"Hate to break it to you, darling, but someone stalking you is a lot more important to me than a damn show!" Lillian silenced herself, looking away from Alastor's gaze. "I'm staying home."

"No! You can't! That show is a once in a lifetime opportunity!"

"YOU are my one opportunity! If something happened to you.. I would go Insane." He gripped her shoulders tightly.

"Fine.. Let's make a deal, Al dear. You stay at home all week, but on the day of your show, we take extra precautions to the house and you go. After that you can stay home as much as you want." Lillian says in a serious tone and holds out her hand.

"Deal."

⛧ ⛧ ⛧

The day had finally come and both were feeling nervous. In truth, neither of them wanted Alastor to leave. But with the extra precautions in the house, there was no point in staying home. She was right, this chance will never come again.

The stalker in question had done this sort of thing to several women in the past, many of which had simply gone missing. The ones that were found had been abused and stabbed in the spine causing paralysis, and yes, dead. What a horrific way to die, they both thought. So far there have been 6 victims.

"Are you ready, dear?" Lillian asks helping his coat on. Alastor's expression looking out of place. He was scared and couldn't look her in the eyes, fearing it could be the last time he sees them.

"Are you sure you can't come with me?" He grabs her hand and holds it to his chest. His heart beat a mile a minute.

"You know I'm not allowed there anymore. Or have you forgotten?" She chuckles in attempt to comfort her husband. Obviously not working. Alastor was heartbroken, the only thing he could think of now was to hurry up and get his show done and over with so he can come home. Almost like it wasn't important anymore.

"I've got you a gift." He pulled out a velvet box from his pocket. Lillian took the box and opened it, revealing a locket. 'Mon amour'. She opened it up to see a picture of them on their wedding day. Happy as can be. "No matter what happens know that you are the most important thing in my life." She smiled up at him and gave him a big hug before thanking him. It's beautiful.

"Time to go, my darling." She gives him one last passionate kiss before pushing his butt out the door and locking it. It was cruel to do that however, if it dwelled on it any longer he'd surely break his promise. In reality, she was panicking about being left alone. For good reason...

.

.

.

Alastor's body finally relaxed after 4 hours of his show, it was the most enjoyable one so far. Interviewing the mayor, he was a lot nicer than expected and obviously cared for his people. It wasn't until one of the new journalists came barging in that everything changed.

"Uh oh we've got some breaking news! A new victim of the killer. Our seventh victim is the magazine writer and trend-setter, Lillian Lili?!..." He held his breath as a lump formed in his throat. Immediately getting up, turning on his heels, and hurrying out of the building. His hands were shaking in hopes that she was at the very least still alive. Maybe this was a different situation.

Police and the press had already arrived hours before. Pushing through the crowd, a policeman placed a hand on his chest to keep him at bay.

"Are you Mrs. Lillian's husband?" The policeman asked. Alastor's glared down at the man keeping him away from his wife. "I'm afraid I have to tell you that she was killed. I cannot let you go on further for your own good."

"H-How did this happen.. the house was covered in as many locks as we could find! Wood bolted to the windows and-"

"It was not a break in, sir. He had been living in your cellar for what may have been... a week?." Alastor's color drained from his face. In the cellar? He had locked his wife in there with that criminal?

He pushed past the policeman and ducked under the police tape. No one stopped him in time before he saw the scene unfold in front of him. Just like the other women. She had been assaulted and puddles of blood ran from her back. Alastor drops to his knees and grips his hair, crying hysterically. Something snapped within him. His cries suddenly turned into insane laughter. It appalled everyone. He goes over and picks her up and cradles her lifeless body in his own. The blood staining his clothes.

"You can't do that! This is a crime scene! You can't mess with evidence. It belongs to the police department!" The police officer yelled at him. Alastor said nothing continuing to hold her. He knew what to do..

Winter of 1933

̷̍̇̄̐̂̏͊̒̈́ "Breaking News! We have an update on Paul Benjamin. You know the one serial killer who has had an open case for 20 years. Well.. HE'S DEAD HAHAHAHA!" Alastor beat on his desk laughing before clearing his throat. "I apologize for my outburst, it just about time it happened don't y'all agree?" He said calming down and wiping the tears from his eyes. "I wonder who's next on this antihero's list."

It had been 5 years since Lillian's death. While he is working through the pain, his methods to cope is questionable. Four years ago Alastor had decided he wanted to deal with his wife's murderer himself. A year of following his movements and actions eventually paid off. A new addiction emerged to the surface. How easy it was to pierce human skin, to the screams of misery and pain. It was such an amazing feeling. Why stop there? There are people who deserve the same. Nine monsters.. nine people killed by Alastor's hand. Each deeply researched and carefully chosen.

The walk back home from the studio was peaceful. Nothing could make this night better. Many horrors have been removed from the streets of New Orleans thanks to him. Thankfully he was never suspected in any of them. Alastor was very particularly careful how he handled them. Every single seeming to be an accident or su**ide. To the public, it was almost like a miracle. But to the criminals themselves, they knew. Who was next on this mastermind's list? Paranoia set in to them all.

"Ahh what a day my dear, wish you could be here to see what I've accomplished." His laugh was maniacal. He removed his jacket and put it on the hanger on the door. "You are safe now, my darling. We're getting closer to having a free city of monsters."

"I knew it was you.." a voice whispered to Alastor from behind him, holding a knife to his neck. "The only monster left in this town is you, Al." Alastor stayed quiet and slowly reached for the knife in his vest pocket. "I d-don't want to kill you. I understand why you did it but your wife would not like this. Just submit yourself to the police and I will let you go."

He belted the insane laughter, making the man steadily walk backwards in fear. "Understand? You could never understand." Alastor swiped his finger across the cut on his neck left by the knife, and licking it. "I just enjoy doing it." He swiftly shoved the knife into the man's chest.

"Hmmm.. where to put this one. Ah I got it." Unlike all the others, this one was a surprise bonus to the collection. The only possible place to deal with this one was the forest a few acres behind his home. No one went in due to the stories of crytids and it being haunted. It was perfect.

He grabs the shovel sitting against the treeafter placing the corpse in the hole, filling it up with dirt. Upon hearing voices creeping upon him, he looked over his shoulder briefly just for everything to go dark.

"Uh.. I don't think that was a deer, Bill."

"What?"

Present day in Hell

"Congratulations, your highness. Never doubted you for a second. The hotel is starting to gain attraction. " Alastor bowed to Charlie with his hand on his chest.

"You know damn well you're only here for the entertainment. You even said it was a ridiculous idea." Vaggie tapped her feet and crossing her arms.

"Ah yes well... I apologize. Regardless I'm glad everything worked out this way." He gripped his cane, his static-y voice glitching out a bit.

"Speaking of attraction, don't you think it'd be a good idea to put out more commercials and articles about the hotel. Maybe the sinners will take it seriously this time." Charlie paced back and forth before looking to Alastor.

"Good idea! And I know just the person." The one he referred was a commonly feared overlord. One that could potentially out matched Alastor himself. Maere. The dream demon. His shtick was that he can sneak into nightmares and manipulate humans and sinners to sign away their souls for something as simple as a piece of clothing. A soul for an easily attainable item. Despicable.

All the souls he owns have been known to be abused within his possession. On top of it, he rents them out to customers for whatever they need. Because of his collection of talented souls, he has earned his spot in several companies from technology and fashion to restaurants and sinful services.

Now Alastor does not like dealing with demons like him. He was a murderer but only to those who deserve it or push his buttons. Being acquaintances with Maere was useful at times. In the past he has secretly helped free some of them from the contracts with him. This was not one of those times.

The square of pentagram city, where you will find all the fashion stores and new technology. Anything you may need really, including Maere's headquarters.

"Alastor! Our beloved radio demon. I figured your ass would show up around here at what point, old friend." He rubbed his cigarette between his fingers putting it in the ash tray before standing up to greet him.

"Ah ha ha.. don't call me that. I'm just here to do business." He swiped his dhoulder pad before putting both hands atop his cane. "I'm sure you've heard about princess Charlotte's hotel kicking up attention. I'm here to see if you have any souls that would be perfect in advertising the hotel. Someone who is persuasive and talented with writing."

"Hmmm I may have someone like that. Only if you promise to STOP RELEASING THEM FROM MY CONTRACTS!" He held out his hand in hopes of agreeing on a deal.

"I guess I could.. fine, you've got a deal." He grapped Maere's hand, shaking it. Maere grips his hand and leans closer to Alastor.

"I mean it. You're dead if you do." Alastor's expression stayed composed.

. . . . .

"Let me introduce you to my star saleswoman. She does a lot of the Vees advertisements in tv, newspaper, and magazine. Quite the talented one if I do say so myself. She's good for other things as well if you kbow what I mean." He was quite a cruel 'master'. Every single soul he owned was only allowed to do anything unless they are rented or if he decides to use them. And the way he made sure were restraints on both the face and arms. A metal mask was bolted to behind there heads covering their whole face with matching metal restraints that kept their forearms tight against their backs.

This woman was no different. On the other hand, her clothing was rather elegant. A beautiful evening gown that looked like it'd have been popular in the 1920s. It was a loose-fitting floor length dress that flared at the knees; low v-neck, flowy mesh sleeves. The base of it was red silk while the outside was full of fringe and black lace details. Her hair was black with curls that reached her shoulders, with long ears sticking out the top of her head. Little fluffy tail sticking out the back of her dress, and to top it off were her very long paws. I guess her feet were to big to find shoes for her. A rabbit demon?

"Does this one at the very least have a name?" Alastor questioned Maere. He thought about it before snapping his fingers.

"Ah yes! She is soul 19,281!" He pushed her into Alastor's chest, making her stumble and drop something off around her neck. Maere released her from the restraints letting her scramble for the necklace on the ground. He disappeared letting Alastor do his thing.

"I despise having to do dealings with that demon. Are you alright little lady." Alastor leaned down to grab the necklace for her. A locket? He opened it seeing the inside, having it suddenly be ripped from his hand. It was him and his wife. The two finally gazed up at each other in awe.

"...Lili?"

[anxiouseldergod]

hiii I love the premise of your au ✨️

I was wondering about a couple things..

1. is grim part of it?

2. what about ace and Deuce? what do they do? I think it would cute if they were still super close to reader (I'm totally NOT a huge fan of the heartshackle dynamic /s)

I wrote way more on this then I meant to lmao

While I do intend for this to be an x reader series thingy, this is more of a "how you met" scenario, so it doesn't really have any romance.

It's kind of long, so it's all below the cut!

I had planned to include Grim in my post going over my au, actually! I ended up writing it in the middle of the night though and completely forgot to add him there lol

In my au, Grim lives with the reader as their familiar! Maybe it's an overused trope to make him their familiar in au's, but I have this cute image in my head of him trying to help around both the shops.

struggling to reach certain shelves to fill them with books of magical items, napping on the counters next to you while you're working, going out with you while collect herbs...

I adore my dumbass son.

as for adeuce? I feel like they would be regular customers at the magic shop, always stocking up on healing items.

I see them as rookie (but surprisingly successful) adventurers.

They were trained by family members, Ace learned from his older brother and Deuce from his mom (a now retired adventurer).

They ended up joining the same guild, Heartslabyul, which is based in one of the cities nearby.

As the two newest members, they often get paired up together, much to their dismay.

I feel like they heard rumors of the magic shop in the woods and got curious, wanting to know if it was actually real.

So, they set out, going deeper and deeper into the dark woods. Just when they thought maybe it wasn't real, they stumbled across you.

They were certainly surprised to find you living in the woods with just your familiar to keep you company.

Entering your shop, they were immensely disappointed to see a bookstore instead of a magic shop.

You greet them politely, smiling from behind the counter.

"Welcome! Feel free to look around, let me know if you need anything."

While neither of them are at all interested in the books you have, they decide to look around anyway. They came all this way, after all.

The two boys disappear from you line of sight, conversing quietly as they browse the shelves despite their lack of interest. Grim looks up from the can of tuna he was eating, ear twitching as he stares in their direction curiously.

After finishing his snack, Grim wanders away from you, toward where the two had gone. He weaves through the maze of shelves, peeking out from behind one. He watches the boys argue quietly.

"No, I told you it wasn't real! But you just had to come see!"

"What? How is this my fault? You wanted to come too.."

The back and forth continues for a moment as Grim watches from the side. The whole scene is greatly amusing to him and, without realizing, he lets out a small laugh.

Ace and Deuce pause in their useless bickering, turning to stare at the laughing creature. They look thoroughly confused by him, clearly never having seen anything like him. Ace speaks up first.

"Hang on, is that weird cat laughing at us–"

Grim's face immediately changes as the fire coming from his ears burns a little brighter. He stomps his little foot, tail swishing angrily.

"I am NOT a cat!"

The boys jump a bit, deuce accidentally backing into the bookshelf behind him.

"Why can it talk?!" He shouts, before seemingly remembering the sign that told him to keep quiet. He tries again, whisper shouting this time. "Why can it talk?!"

Grim looks even more upset at this. "Why can you talk? Clearly you don't have anything smart to say!"

Ace laughs at this, snorting before covering his mouth in an attempt to hide his amusement. Deuce notices this and elbows him.

Grim turns to Ace, hands on his hips as he speaks to him. "You don't seem much smarter, you know."

Now, Ace is upset. He yells at Grim, not worried about keeping his voice down. "What would some ugly kitten know about me anyway?"

Grim is even more offended now. In his upset, he gets the bright not idea to scare the two with with his fire magic. He breathes a blue flames toward them, successfully scaring them like he had intended.

However, he didn't account for Deuce's reaction.

"I summon thee, cauldron!"

A large cauldron comes crashing down from seemingly nowhere. It hits the bookshelf beside them and sends it crashing to the ground,

Grim manages to mostly avoid the disaster, but ends up getting his tail smashed by a stray book. A rather large one too. He yelps in pain, shooting more fire magic out reflexively.

Ace and Deuce look on in horror as the book shelf falls over completely, Grim's flames catching on the books. The smoke builds up around them, making it hard to see.

Suddenly, the fire is put out all at once.

As the smoke clears, the three of them see you angry face as you survey the damage they caused.

Grim scrambles behind your legs, holding his sore tail and glaring at the adventurers.

Deuce is practically tripping over himself trying to apologize, but is abruptly stopped as you inspect the cauldron on the ground.

"You use magic?"

You can see the color drain from their faces at your question. Their both stammering, coming up with lame excuses or trying to change the subject.

Ace is sure you'll snitch about Deuce's magic, and he'll get busted for keeping it a secret. He's (overly) confident that he can escape the law if he has to, but he's more worried about how his brother will react.

Deuce is sure he'll never go another quest, then he'll never achieve his dream of becoming a legendary adventurer! He can already see his mother's disappointed face when she hears that her only son was locked up due to illegal use of summoning magic. Which is why he's so confused when he hears you laugh.

"What a terrible display! You're not very experienced are you?" You say, a smile growing on you face. You turn to Ace. "I'm assuming you use it too, right? Actually, no need to answer, I can sense your magic energy."

Grim looks up at you incredulously. "Why are ya laughin'? Aren't ya gonna tear into 'em for the mess they made?"

You smile to yourself, closing your eyes as you think for a moment. "Oh, you're all in trouble, Grim. But I think this might actually work in my favor."

You turn back to Ace and Deuce, who stand there in confusion. "You were here looking for The Moon's Alcove, right? Come with me!"

Bewildered, the boys and Grim follow you from the chaos of your destroyed bookshelf. They watch as you unlock the door in the back. You lead them through it, into your magic shop while ignoring their awed expressions.

"Here it is!" You exclaim, arms out as you gesture to your secret shop. "I run the place. Here lately I've had more customers than usual. It's difficult for me to mange the shops and gather materials for potions and other items. Obviously, I can't trust Grim to go alone."

Your familiar makes an offended sound from beside your feet.

"As payment for the damage you've caused here today, I'd like the two of you to gather my materials." You explain.

"Like, a job?" Ace asks, sneering at the thought of extra work.

"Mhm! Should be easy since adventurers like you are always exploring and foraging anyway. I'll even pay you, you'll get extra if you can find me some magical items or artifacts."

Deuce puts his hand to chin, looking around the colorful shop as muses aloud. "I mean, if it keeps us out of trouble..."

You clap your hands together, magic flying from them in little sparkles due to your excitement. "I would never snitch! I'm in no position to anyway. So, do we have a deal?"

The boys look to each other, shrugging as they come to a silent conclusion.

"I guess?"

"Great!" You clap again. "I actually forgot to mention something though, since this is to repay me for the damage to my precious books, I actually won't be paying you the firs two weeks."

"What?!" They exclaim in unison.

Ace crosses his arms. "Repayment of not, what makes you think we'll do this for free? What if we just run off and don't come back, huh?"

Before they can complain further, you take a small pouch from your pocket. Carefully, you pour a small amount of red powder into you hand and then toss it into the air above their heads. It drifts down onto them as you say a few mysterious words with your hands clasped together, they glow slightly.

"There! Now if you try to weasel out of this, your heads will explode!"

The boys look horrified at this statement, backing away from you quickly. Ace takes back his previous words, assuring you he they'll do their job well.

Eventually, a few more terms are worked out between you and them and they leave. It's agreed that they'll spend the next few days searching for the materials you listed and then bring them to you at a specific date.

Not long after they leave does it begin to grow dark out. You sit on your bed, gently applying a mild healing ointment to Grim's sore tail.

After a moment of silence, he speaks. "Are ya really gonna explode their heads if they don't listen?"

You laugh, shaking your head. "Of course not, that's way too far."

"Then what was that powder you put on 'em?"

"Paprika."

[dragonbarbie]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏 𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 - modern!aemond targaryn x reader

rating: 18+, minors dni

summary: academic rivals, where revision has the same rules as strip poker

word count: 3.8k

tags: mature content, smut, modern!au, reader being petty and competitive, aemond also being petty and competitive, guest appearance by aegon

note: this is like… my first attempt at writing smut so ….*clown emoji* anyway hope you like it

y/n was used to being number 1. all throughout high school, be it history or physics – she had the highest grade in every class and was managing to do so without much effort, really. she hadn’t expected that to change when she landed her dream university, dragonstone. but when she arrived she had the rude shock of getting acquainted with aemond targaryen. first day of their valyrian history class, she had expected to impress her professor with the extensive knowledge on the subject that had been one of her favourites in high school, but when she found herself being beaten to the punch by the blonde bastard, she took an instant dislike to him.

pettily enough, as everyone was leaving the class, she made a show of saying “suck-up” in a not so quiet whisper as she passed him by. “excuse me?” his condescending, posh tone made her eyes roll. “all i did was answer his questions. i wasn’t the one gushing about the books he had written.” he sharply pointed out. “whatever.” she tried to brush off the retort. “if you’re so jealous, maybe actually read before class next time, instead of whining.” he coolly stated as he stalked off, leaving her behind as she gritted her teeth and glared at his striding figure.

from that point onwards, every class that she shared with him, she made a deliberate effort to work extra hard for. she went beyond just the recommended readings, she would write extra few hundred words for every essay, and for every test she would spend hours in preparation. still, frustratingly, all of this effort only made her good competition for him and not the outright winner. it seemed that aemond targaryen was in fact used to going beyond just the bare minimum, she didn’t ever see him take a break. if he wasn’t at the library, she found him sweating it out on the track field. his perfection was downright annoying.

what her friend baela found annoying, was the detail with which y/n would observe (obsess over) his daily behaviour and then rant about it to her. by the time finals week was on the horizon, she was just about done with y/n’s obsession.

y/n had been in the middle of ranting about how she had caught aemond revising for finals on the treadmill, when baela slammed the book that was open in front of her with frustration. “why don’t you just join him then?” she sarcastically asked, earning a “yeah right” from y/n who returned back to her notes as she realised that all this talk of her rival had clearly seemed to drive her friend to the point of irritation. “actually… why not?” though she had asked the question rhetorically, baela soon realised that perhaps that wasn’t such a crazy idea after all. y/n, did not share that understanding. she blinked back at her “i’m sorry am i supposed to say something or just wait in silence while you regain your senses. what are you talking about?”

“you said it yourself, you study better with a partner. and i don’t have any of the same classes as you.” the thought of baela having fun studying marine biology while y/n had to suffer aemond targaryen’s presence all alone at the history department was a point that brought her great sadness each day. “he does. and you have to admit it, he’s pretty good.”

as soon as y/n opened her mouth with a retort right on her tongue, baela silenced her with one pointed sentence “i have one reply to all your objections — keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”

oh, y/n thought, she’d never thought of it that way. “besides,” baela reopened the book she had shut, “this way you can keep an even closer eye on his schedule.” she teased.

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

aemond somehow didn’t need to lift his eye to know who it was that had approached the corner library desk that had become his unofficial residence for finals weeks. “can i help you, l/n?” he asked, as she stopped before him. “no, but i can certainly help you, targaryen.” she announced, pulling out the chair across from him and putting her laptop bag down on the desk. he wordlessly raised his brow as she made herself comfortable. “look—” she knew that selling the idea to him was going to be just as hard as it was for it to be sold to her, but she was as stubborn as she was competitive, “—if we work together, our work will be halved. i can beat your ass at history of tyrosh and the origins of dorne any day of the week, and you are marginally better than me at valyrian history and aegon’s conquest. i am proposing that we sit and quiz each other on the exam portions and that way we’re both covered for our weaker subjects.”

she did not like the smug smirk that overcame his face at the suggestion. “so, you’ve come here to grovel for my help?” she could punch his perfect white teeth in. “look you little shit, while everyone on campus will be sweating and crying and chugging copious amounts of energy drinks to survive this week – we could be sailing through it, if we do this. our rivalry’s entertaining and all, but the stress of finals week will make even your fabulous hair fall out.”

“hmm.” he considered her words for a second. she rolled her eyes as he seemed to revel in making her wait for his response, “c’mon, targaryen, do it for the hair.” she was sure she saw his lips twitch upwards at her teasing.

“fine.” he finally gave in, causing y/n to sigh in relief, “but if you can’t keep up, i’m dropping you.” “likewise.” y/n promised.

she had to admit, studying with aemond was actually not that bad. their reading speed was similar, he kept her on her toes with his constant quizzing, and initially he had seemed to be singularly focused on the task at hand. as the days went on though, y/n found that they had actually started to talk of things beyond dead king and queens. “so, you’re like, related to the conqueror?” she asked as a manner of taking a break from their revision of her least favourite class, the conquest of westeros. “yeah, directly. he’s a great-great, times ten, grandfather.” he answered, turning the signet ring on his hand subconsciously. “that’s cheating, then. i’d be great at that class too if daddy had told me tales of grandpa aegon every night before bed.” she shrugged as she reached to grab the pot of black coffee, to refill her cup.

“well, ‘daddy’ didn’t even bother saying goodnight most nights, so let’s not attribute any of my success to him.” she looked up at him suddenly at the off-handed admission about his home life, but before she could really react, he added. “you just want there to be more to why i’m better than you, rather than accepting – i just am.” there was that smug smirk again, the one that she used to loath. but nowadays, that same smile was more playful than hostile, she had noted. “or, i’m trying to figure out if being an asshole is just who you are, or if it runs in your family. aegon burned half of westeros down to colonise it, so I’m leaning towards the latter.” “colonise?” he was clearly irritated at her choice of words. “one race of people, the valyrians, through violence made another race, the first men, submit to them. that’s the textbook definition of colonisation, is it not?” she raised her brow, inviting him to debate her. she knew it was the subject he felt most passionate about, and thus, it was the class where she would most often find herself playing devil’s advocate, for no reason other than to oppose whatever view aemond had taken. in their revision sessions, too, she liked to watch the passion light a fire in his eye whenever she would declare his opinion was wrong. he looked hot when he was academically pissed off.

“westeros was just different war lord states fighting for dominance until aegon united the seven kingdoms.” he firmly argued. “so what, that gave him open invite to just come and take over?” she challenged, crossing her arms with a self-satisfied grin at having gotten him so riled up already. he opened his mouth to throw his retort at her, when suddenly the door to aemond’s apartment, where they had been studying, swung open to disturb the proceedings.

she saw a man with platinum blonde hair that matched aemond’s stumbling as he entered the apartment with his arm around a beautiful girl, with black hair hanging down to her waist.

aemond, she noted, was visibly annoyed at this.

“oh, did we spoil your little study session?” the other man rhetorically asked, without any real remorse in his tone, his words slurring to indicate that he had been drinking. he sat himself down on the sofa next to y/n, uninvited, a move that inexplicably made aemond’s jaw tighten. “you must be my little brother’s study buddy, y/n. i know all about you, and i’m sure he’s told you nothing about me. i’m aegon, the nerd’s big bro.” y/n was immediately amused at the thought of this man, who was decked in a supreme tracksuit and who’s hair seemed to have been left uncombed, was the perfect, prim and proper aemond’s elder brother. “nice to meet you, aegon. are you studying at the university too?” “business major, yeah, graduating next year.” he replied stretching his hand to place it behind y/n. aemond snorted at his brother, “with the way your finals prep is going, i would not bother wasting money on a graduation gown.” he eyed the woman with whom aegon had entered, judgement clear in his eye.

“hey! i decided to follow your lead and i’ve asked cassandra here to be my study buddy. i’ve actually gone one step further than you and invented the best revision method.” he declared. aemond seemed to have no curiosity at his brother’s statement, but y/n asked “do tell.” aegon turned to her with a pleased smile, “it’s revision, but with strip poker rules.” he simply answered.

she raised a brow at his response, “as in…?” “as in you quiz each other, and every time one of you gets an answer wrong – you take an item of clothing off. it’s a win-win, if you get the answer right, good job, you know your shit. if you don’t…. well, its so much more fun if you don’t.” y/n had to purse her lips to suppress the laughter at the back of her throat.

at the sound of aemond packing up his books, she looked away from aegon to the younger brother. “let’s go to your dorm, y/n. he definitely doesn’t know his shit, and his ‘revision’ tends to be loud.”

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

as per y/n’s prediction, final’s week had indeed sailed by for aemond and her because of their revision sessions. they only had one exam left now, and it was the one they had both been dreading the most – historical methods. it was a subject that was so boring and plainly simple, that they knew it was easy enough to study for, but they could not bring themselves to revise something so mind-numbingly dull.

y/n, in her frustration, threw her notes on the table at aemond’s apartment. aemond, seated on the other end of the sofa from where y/n was lying on her back, shared her frustration, but he tended to be more stoic and was determined to finish the work on hand. “it’s just a few more topics, and then you never have to think about the subject ever again.” he tried to placate her. “it’s too boring, i can’t do it!” she complained bringing her hands up to her face in frustration. aemond couldn’t help but notice how the action made the t-shirt she was wearing ride up and expose soft skin just above her jean shorts, his eye remaining fixed on the spot for a second too long.

then, the mixture of a caffeine high and a boredom that was seeming like an unending chasm, gave birth to what y/n thought was a brilliant idea. she moved her fingers slightly, so only her eyes would poke out from behind them. “let’s try your brother’s idea.” she suddenly said, “i don’t think anyone has ever said that sentence before.” he remarked.

“i’m serious.” she sat up, as if to indicate her earnestness. “the ‘revision, but with strip poker rules’ idea, let’s try it.”

aemond’s expression was unreadable as she watched him, but she was certain she saw his adam’s apple move at the suggestion. “it’s a dumb idea.” he said, but his throat had gone dry at the thought.  y/n rolled her eyes, “that’s the point! it’ll break the monotony.” she crawled to his side of the sofa. “come on, aemond. don’t be a coward.” the suggestion of him even possibly being cowardly had clearly set off something in him. “fine.” he shut the book in his hand and placed it on the table.

they quizzed each other, and it was going much the same as their usual quizzing went, which disappointed y/n since it did not in fact break the monotony as she had wanted. that was until, in her over-confidence, she got a question wrong. “well…” aemond seemed to be very satisfied indeed at her wrong answer, “are you going to do the honours or are you ready to admit that you’re the only coward here?” he scanned the white t-shirt she was wearing, almost with hunger and an expectancy, y/n thought.

she pulled the shirt off over her head, and threw it right at his smug face, “i’m no coward.” he caught it with ease, and for a split second she was sure he smelling it as he held it to his face, before dropping it in his lap. when he looked at her now, he didn’t even attempt to hide how he was taking in her figure, as she sat exposed only in her black bra. knowing that she was being watched, she sat straighter, even as she muttered “pervert” but made no attempt to hide her form.

 “please, don’t even try to pretend like you don’t love it.” now, that did take her aback. sure, she had caught him looking at her chest or her ass many-a time over their study sessions, and had done nothing to stop it, but she hadn’t realised that he had in fact, caught her catching him when he looked. he knew she had allowed it all this while, unspoken.

the monotony was certainly broken now.

when it was next aemond’s turn to ask a question, he threw her an easy one, a question she had answered in class. but y/n shrugged and said, “i don’t know”, as an answer. aemond snorted at her, “yeah, you do.”

she simply laid on her back as she undid her shorts and slid them down her legs, eyes never leaving aemond’s as she did. he wet his lower lip with his tongue, and then bit down as he watched. his eye trailed her bare legs, up to her panties, with very little being left to his imagination now that she sat only in her underwear on his sofa.

“my turn” she had the perfect trick question in mind, and when he called her out, saying “there is no right answer to that”, she shrugged once again. “are you going to do the honours or are you ready to admit that you’re the only coward here?” she threw his words back in his face with a grin.

he didn’t seem to need a lot of convincing. he pulled off his shirt in one swift move, and y/n felt her stomach clench at the sight of defined muscles on pale skin. she took a minute to memorise his details before she asked him the next question, but she hadn’t even reached the end of it before aemond was unbuttoning his pants, answering the question by simply saying “don’t know, don’t care.” it seemed as if he was in a hurry, as if he had waited long enough for this moment.

y/n seemed to be in a hurry too, when she deliberately gave a rushed, wrong answer to his next question. she moved her knees to straddle him where he sat, able to feel everything through her own cotton panties over his satin boxers. “need some help with the bra hooks.” she said as an excuse for her action. he readily obliged, with his hands reaching behind her and unhooking her bra with ease, letting the material fall down to the floor. his hands trailed up from her waist to her chest, pale hands first covering and then roughly squeezing her breasts. she started to rock back and forth where she sat, her now wet panties grinding against his obvious bulge.

“it’s your turn to ask.” she breathlessly reminded him after a minute, “fuck revision.” he was trailing kisses around her collar bone, sucking hard enough to leave bruises, she was certain. ““fuck revision”? who are you and what have you done to aemond targaryen?” she chuckled. he only gave her a growl in return, as his arms snaked around her waist to hold her up and then place her back down, with her back hitting the soft sofa.

he hovered over her for a second, supporting himself on his knees as his fingertips traced her side. “you look so hot when you’re concentrating….” he murmured, seemingly out of nowhere, as his fingers found the waistband of her panties and hooked under them. “…and when you’re debating me….” he pulled the cloth over her legs, and his hand reached down to the wetness between her legs “… and especially, when someone tells you you’re right.” a shiver went down her spine she felt two of his cold fingers in her folds. “already so wet for me.” he chuckled.

“oh, would you stop being a tease and just…” at her complaint he withdrew his fingers suddenly, causing her to whine. “just what?” he asked, making her feel more frustrated with him than she had ever felt before. “did you really think i was going to let go of the perfect opportunity to make you beg for me? make you beg me, to fuck you?” oh, there was that stupid fucking smug smirk once again. Now, it was no secret that y/n had too much pride, especially when it came to facing off with aemond targaryen. but as she lay there, exposed and achingly wet, she decided she had to bury her pride to get what she wanted.

“aemond…” she swallowed, “fuck me.” that did not seem to give him what he wanted. he cocked his head to one side, “hmm. you’re missing something.” she huffed, thinking why he had to make this so difficult, and how satisfied he must be at getting her in this position. “aemond…fuck me….please.”

at that, he grinned. he bent down to be inches away from her face, “as you wish.”

she felt two of his fingers enter her suddenly, making her gasp. his fingers curled inside of her roughly, at the same time he started to kiss the side of her neck with more gentleness than she had expected of him. the dichotomy gave her a high. his fingers continued their assault, as her hands tangled themselves in his hair. “so tight…” he whispered against her ear, “how long have you been thinking about this, you little slut?” y/n could only hum back, not capable of formulating a well thought-out response.

Her legs clenched as he continued to dig his fingers inside of her with perfect rhythm. His thumb reached up to massage her clit, as her hand reach down to grab the arm that was inside of her, nails leaving scratch marks. A warmth spread around inside her stomach at the feeling.

when he suddenly pulled his fingers out, she groaned in frustration, “has anyone ever told you, you have no patience?” he tutted. y/n rolled her eyes as she sat forward and her hands moved to finally remove his boxers, “yes.”

with his boxers now discarded, he positioned her to lay back down on the sofa, her legs around his waist. his tip grazed her core, but he didn’t enter her which only added to her annoyance. “aemond, i swear to the old gods and the new, if you tease me for a second longer—” she was cut off by him slamming inside of her suddenly. “ah!” she moaned as he filled her, “that ought to shut you up.” he grunted, supporting himself by keeping a hand on the arm of the sofa that was beneath her head. “oh, gods… aemond…” she could feel him touching her spot, legs growing weaker with each thrust.

he was going at it with a ruthless pace, leaving her feeling helpless and satisfied at the same time. his mouth dipped and he began sucking on her nipple, his teeth grazing where she was sensitive, making her yelp in pleasure. she grabbed his shoulder, grip strong enough leave even more marks. as she felt his tongue circle the skin around her nipple, she made a mental note to tell his brother that she had come to agree that his method of revising was indeed ingenious.

“aemond…i’m…” she had begun to say, “yeah baby, almost there” he replied lifting his head to her face. he tucked a stray stand of her hair behind her ear, a gesture that felt more intimate than the sex. he placed his hand on her cheek before his lips finally met hers. she could taste the black coffee they had been drinking on his tongue, mixed with something minty like toothpaste. for all the roughness with which he fucked her, y/n realised that the kiss felt sweet, tender almost.

“fuck…” he said against her lips, and she could tell he was close too. “aemond…ah!” she reached her peak, just as he pulled out and finished on her stomach.

panting, breathless and sore, for once y/n did not have a retort in the presence of aemond targaryen. he seemed rather speechless too, as he remained above her, unspeaking but his eye refusing to leave her face. he seemed to be in deep thought, and just when he opened his mouth to speak, a different voice could be heard from down the hall.

“and you called my ‘revising’ loud.” aegon snorted, leaning against his bedroom door.

[pomogando]

OMG I JUST SAW UR REQUESTS R OPEN!!! Hiii!!! I was wondering if you could write (headcanons, or whatever you want!!) of Banhammer and an Artist S/O?? The gender can be neutral!! And like the S/O has a special sketchbook just full of Banhammer, and only him. But the S/O left it out on accident and Banhammer takes a little peek inside it 👀 And theres also like little side notes too!! Like, "Drawing the love again <33" or "Silly guy!! <3" or even like some embarrassing thoughts like, "WHY HE LOOK SO FINE AT 46 ✋" lmao Hope u have a good day!!!! Or night!!!

Banhammer and artist s/o

(No tws, romantic intended, fluffy, gn reader, a bit short..)

If there's anything you found out from being with banhammer, it's that he was, by default, nosy.

You were always drawing him, usually when he was busy working out and you had nothing better to do. You liked being by his side anyhow.

He was covered in sweat when he saw you look up from your sketchbook, then quickly look down once you got your reference. He instantly jumped to your side to see what you were doing.

"Ew, banhammer! You're sweaty!"

You quickly closed the notebook, shielding it with your body as he pouted and asked to see what it was. You always showed him your drawings. Why was this one any different? "Let me see!" He whined, a big paw on your face as he tried to grab your sketchbook. You couldn't help but laugh. You wouldn't dare show him what you drew, your face turning red out of embarassment

He tumbles over his own weight, allowing you time to escape and hide the sketchbook.

He was lucky enough to see a glimpse of it, and the figure looked familiar, but it wasnt enough to satisfy his curiosity.

He didn't bother about it after, which was surprising. After another day of drawing, you huffed as you put down the sketchpad in frustration. It wasn't coming out how you wanted. He pulled you into his lap, gently squeezing you as he purred. It always seemed to calm you down despite being hotheaded. You laid on his chest.

You slowly drifted off to sleep. Banhammer was about to join you when he took notice that your sketchbook was right there, free for the taking. He quickly (but quietly) reaches for it, his hands shook in excitment.

He flipped through the pages impatiently, he saw the ones you had shown him first. Then he found the ones you hadn't, his eyes widened as his face started heat up.

He definitely didn't expect all these drawings of him. It felt like seeing a photo of himself. Each picture felt like a shot to the heart.

He ran one of his clawed fingers gently across the lines of a detailed sketch of himself. The attention to detail made him exasperated. What didn't help was the loving notes on the side of each sketch of him.

"My beloved ♥️"

"Love of my life!!"

"Handsome.."

He was practically a mess reading all of the little doting messages. He let out a small breath of air in an attempt to calm his beating heart. He wanted to pull you into a tight hug and never let go. He continued reading the small messages and the doodles of him doing mundane things. One of them drawn of him after one of his phighting matches. He remembered you eyeing him, at the time he thought maybe you were upset about something.

"How can someone be so perfect?"

He closed the book a bit louder than he meant to, unable to handle the praise.

...

The next time you draw him, you'll think he wasn't paying attention to you. Maybe he lost interest? The relief you felt quickly vanished when he looked at you with a smug smile

"Are you getting my good side?" He said proudly, posing for you.

Your pencil dropped to the floor as you gasped.

"Banhammer!"

[emmyrosee]

@llovelykris I got your ask and I do enjoy it a lot, but please understand I did change the prompt slightly, so I could feel as comfortable I could with writing it ❤️

Tw // nightmares, night terrors, mentions of death

—-

It’s the fourth night in a row this shit woke you up.

Tonight, the nightmare completely had you blindsided, a deep-rooted terror that you should be completely accustomed to facing, but tonight for one reason or another, this one in particular was… aggressive.

Maybe it’s because Bakugou was right next to you. Maybe it’s because it’s been a few days since you heard from your family. Whatever the case, it snapped you cold out of a sleep, and you were far from being ready to sleep again, where as nights just prior, you'd been able to doze back off.

With a small grunt of effort you swing your legs over the side of the bed and toe on some slippers, letting your exhausted bones shamble you into the kitchen. You rest your pounding head against the coldness of the fridge and after waiting a moment for your world to stop spinning, you grab the container of grapes, letting the initial tartness ground you.

It was just a nightmare. Just a fucking nightamare, why is this the nightmare that's going to keep you up?

“The hell are you doing up?”

You turn from your bowl of grapes to face your interrupter, whose hair is somehow more wild and crazy, and his cheeks rosy from being pulled from sleep. You shrug and look back down at your fruit, “just… couldn’t sleep.”

“You were knocked out when I got up to pee an hour ago,” he says, voice grumbling. You chuckle softly at the silly phrasing, and you grab a grape, holding it up for him to take with his teeth. He does, and he opens the fridge to take a sip of milk straight out of the carton.

You scoff, “I told you not to do that.”

“And I told you that you’re not usually supposed to see when I do it.” You offer him a string of laughter, grateful for his attempts of making you at ease. There’s a low arm that wraps around your waist, and a forehead that rests against your temple. “You wanna talk about it?”

“You’ve got milk breath,” you tease. You earn a pinch to the ribs to make you yelp and squirm slightly away from him, and he chuckles before pulling you back and closer.

“Don’t be a damn ass. Don’t want you stayin’ up if it’s something we can work through together.”

Goosebumps raise over your skin and you gnaw at your lip, fingers messing with the container you’re holding. You take a deep breath, waiting for him to press and pry further, but he doesn’t. Katsuki never does, even if he wants to pretend like he’s not, he’s the most patient and understanding soul that you’ve had the privilege to know, and right now, you hate him for respecting your boundaries. You want him to jump to conclusions and make his own judgement about you and your struggles, but he doesn’t. He just lets out rhythmic breathing against your pounding head.

“I just had a nightmare,” you say, minimizing the magnitude of your distress. “It’s fine.”

He snarls softly in the back of his throat, “stop lying to me, fucking god. This isn’t my first rodeo, I can read you like a book. Spill, or we’re gonna keep our asses planted right damn here.”

You gnaw at your lip and gently pull away from him. You do anything and everything to avoid having to talk to him: putting the fruit away, filling a cup with water before chugging it down to relieve your cottonmouth, cracking your toes against the hardwood, anything to break up the silence.

But he’s not budging.

It’s something you both admire and hate about Katsuki, when his mind tells him something is important, he’s not moving from it. It’s a healthy form of communication, up until you literally would rather do anything but talk to him.

And even then, he’s unrelenting.

“You’re gonna love me regardless of what I say, right? This won’t make you unlove me?”

“I’ll give you a firm ‘probably,’” he says in an attempt to lighten the mood, but you don’t laugh. He sighs softly and nods, “of course not. There’s minimal you could do to make me not like you, unfortunately.”

That, finally, does make you laugh, and you nod softly as you try to find the easiest way to explain your trauma from these nightmares, your fears and concerns, yet familiarity with them and how sometimes, that’s the scariest part of them all.

They’re so familiar. They’re so vivid. Sometimes, you can’t tell which is real. And that’s terrifying, and something you never thought you’d have to face with Katsuki.

“They’re… theyre dark, Katsuki,” you say lowly, averting your gaze. “There’s a lot of destruction and death and shit I don’t want to face in real life, death and shit for people I love most, and they’ve plagued my nightmares for years and it’s just something I have to deal with now. And I try to keep them out of my life if I can help it.”

He says nothing, you almost wonder if he feels guilty for “forcing” you to say what happens- he never actually forced you to say it, but Katsuki roams in his own layer of insecurity for pushing you. You sigh and angle your head to look at him, his eyes soft and teeth sinking into his lip.

“But… but I can’t,” you snarl softly, brows furrowing slightly. “I’ve tried so hard for years, I’ve done everything I could do to break these damn terrors but nothing fucking works, and sometimes, I just need to not be near people when they happen because I’m terrified they’ll become real, okay?”

He moves his gaze softly, “you’re… you’re really strong for having to go through that.”

You snort, “yeah. Thanks.”

“I mean it.” He takes a small step back to give you some room, eyes gently flicking up and down as if to ensure you were alright. “That’s some traumatizing shit. And I wish I could make it easier.” His words have you softening, shifting to rest back into his arms. You burrow your face in the dip of his pec’s, and his arms tighten around you protectively.

You sigh, “it’s just… hard to tell people about it. This shit doesn’t make me a bad person, and it’s always taken so far-“

“Of fuckin’ course you’re not a bad person,” he grumbles, pulling back again to have you look at him again; there’s confidence in his gaze, and it has you reeling slightly. “You’ve got no fuckin’ say in what happens in your dreams, and anyone who’s made you feel bad about them isn’t someone who deserves your damn time.”

You swallow back your embarrassment and look at him pitifully, “you don’t think I’m… bad? Or scary?”

He rolls his eyes, “do I fuckin’ seem like I’m scared to you? I’m up at ass crack of morning, freezing my balls off to coddle you in the damn middle of the kitchen. You couldn’t scare a bunny if you tried, let alone my stubborn ass.”

His grumbles do have you laughing watery against his chest, closing your eyes and just letting the relief of his lack of judgement course through your heavy veins.

“You don’t have to worry about them becoming real. I’d never let shit happen to you, or your family, or friends, or anyone; especially the shit your mind conjures up. Never.” His words are firm and comforting, and they have your eyes closing as you’re soothed.

These terrors may haunt you. Who knows when they’ll break. But as long as you can talk about them, discuss them with someone you worship and adore, maybe, just maybe, you can gather the strength to get through a night’s sleep.

One of peace. One you’re convinced you now deserve.