#me when i try and explain the complexity of it all to new friends who ask me about it curiously in a couple words without making myself seem

[mostbelovedqueer]

They should have been queer Tournament - Round 1

Disclaimer: This tournament is based on submissions! Please respect all identities, characters and fandoms! Hate will get you blocked instantly!

Why Steve should have been queer: Bisexual because he has female and male love interests

Additional submission message:

I have written a counterpart to this with Bucky Barnes, but Steve should have been bisexual. (Gay is fine too, this is just my take.) As I said in the other one, the first two movies are centered around their relationship. None of the story works or means anything without their love and loyalty. I'll copy some of that below, and then expand on the Steve side of things:

Bucky plays the role of his love interest in both TFA and TWS: The person Steve enlists for, the person Steve actually gets off his ass and becomes a superhero for, the person whose death reveals a darkness and need for vengeance in Steve, and the person whose loss cuts him so deeply he decides not to try to escape the crashing plane even though he's borderline indestructible and can probably swim in the icy water. Let me reiterate: Steve's girlfriend is begging him to stay alive any way he can, and he doesn't even try. Because his beloved Bucky is dead.

In The Winter Soldier, Bucky's role as love interest is even clearer: Steve tells Natasha directly at the beginning of the movie that he doesn't want to date because he doesn't know how to find anyone with shared life experience. Then, almost immediately, while a LOVE SONG ABOUT YOUR BEAU RETURNING FROM WW2 IS PLAYING, he encounters Bucky. Bucky, who, like Steve, has gone from a normal young man to a weapon, who has lost everything that mattered to him, who has found himself in a new world decades later, who has lost time due to being frozen.

Bucky, with whom Steven spent most of his childhood and young adult life, who has been through nearly everything with Steve, including all the things he doesn't feel he can share with his new friends. Okay, this is becoming a queer Steve manifesto too (and I'll give him one), but I can't explain how the movie presents Bucky as Steve's lover without that.

Then the tropes begin! Amnesia! Fighting on opposite sides! Bucky as abuse victim, needing to be rescued. A fight to the death, Steve dying for Bucky, and breaking him out of the amnesia spell by reminding him of a tender moment they shared, a promise they made that sounds like a wedding vow. "'Til the end of the line." 'Til death do us part.

And it would have been beautiful for Steve to die in 1945 and wake up to a world where he could marry a man in five states and DC. Put it on his little notebook list. "Berlin Wall, JFK, Trouble Man, Stonewall, gay marriage?!!"

Steve is a bigger character than Bucky, so they do more with him. He has two women love interests, who are unfortunately related to each other. It feels like they were trying to replace his affection for Peggy with Sharon, her NIECE, but neither of them are compatible with the Steve we know, values-wise.

Peggy is a pragmatic secret agent. She is shown to be willing to work with Arnim Zola, whom she knows tortured Bucky and murdered a number of, at the least, American soldiers. Operation Paperclip was a real program, and Americans did indeed work with former Nazi scientists, so this could be a complex topic to tackle, if they didn't shy away from the full implications. That's a compelling thing to do with Peggy: a woman agent who has to fight for respect…is still working with shady government agencies. A shady government agency that Steve Rogers KNOWS will very easily be convinced to support a program that will attempt to slaughter twenty million people at once. Steve immediately clocked the spy program as evil when Nick Fury called it protective. The Steve of TWS wouldn't tolerate for a second Peggy's grey moral zone.

Sharon may not knowingly work with Nazis, but she spied on Steve for months while pretending to be a friendly neighbor. That's her job, that's interesting, but Steve didn't like it and the movies offered no reason for me to believe he was interested in her after that until they randomly sucked face while Sam and Bucky smiled painfully.

I don't say this to suggest Steve shouldn't have any relationships with them, or women at all. That's fine. What I do mean by it is that the character of Steve, who has a very intense moral code, might break it for Bucky, but usually he doesn't even have to. Whereas, they don't even suggest he would have to contort himself to be with these women he hasn't even spent much time with, BUT HE WOULD. Heterosexuality infects these movies so deeply that it makes more sense to the writers (or execs, or whoever) for Steve to go back in time to a decade he DOESN'T EVEN LIKE to marry a woman he SAW working with his BEST FRIEND'S NAZI TORTURER than for him to, I don't know, get a house with Bucky? Who really needs him right now?

I don't think most people got really queerbaited by the MCU. They weren't gonna make their second flagship character gay or bi officially like that. But after spending 3+ movies saying that this relationship is the most important thing in the world, splitting them up by seventy years was a rug pull. It made the story worse, it aggressively retconned multiple arcs, and it felt like someone at Disney got nervous about how popular the ship was in the mainstream. I don't know, probably we'll never know what exactly happened, but it sure felt like a middle finger. Steve should have been bisexual.

Why Max should have been queer:

He talks about women sexually, but there's nothing there in his interactions with them. His only serious relationships with women are his landlord, sister, and lesbian friend. There's some vague structural implications that Max is gay in the movie, and it's totally possible they wanted to do that but, as the cast mentioned, they had enough trouble convincing execs to let Prudence be a lesbian. Regardless, the gorgeous triumph that is Julie Taymor's Across the Universe can only be improved by making Max's story gayer. Follow me on this journey.

Max meets a stowaway, Jude, who sneaked into the country and has nothing, and immediately adopts him into his college clan. Shows him the sighs, takes him everywhere, introduces him to American pot. Then he ditches all his other dude friends to move to New York with this cute guy. He gets a bit bummed when Jude and his sister Lucy start dating, but he's a loving brother, so he lets it go. Now let's do a little edit of the bowling alley scene with officially Gay Max. He sings along with "I've Just Seen a Face" normally. His lines are "Yes he is falling," referring to Jude falling for Lucy. But at the end of the song, he gets to add "Falling, yes I am falling…" and trails off. Wistful, pining, gut wrenching, beautiful.

We then meet our beloved lesbian cast member Prudence, who in the movie falls for hot, older Sadie almost instantly, and platonically hits it off with Max pretty quick as well. But I propose that Max and Prudence duet "You've Got to Hide Your Love Away" here. (I thought about "It's Only Love" and there may be time for that, but I think the former has more gay pain in it.) Please imagine Joe Anderson's (Max) American accent and his voice cracking on the line "Gather 'round all you clowns." GOOD, right?

Max gets drafted. He goes to the draft office and claims to be a homosexual in order to get out of the draft (this is in the movie, he says it out loud, along with anything else that might get him a 4F). The officer snarks, "As long as you don't have flat feet," and stamps his card. He now has worse things to worry about than the object of his affection dating his sister.

Prudence gets really bummed, though, especially after Max gets drafted, and she bemoans that she will never have Sadie. She hides in the closet and they all sing "Dear Prudence" to her. This scene can be easily upgraded by Max joining her in the closet for the last bit, and then bringing her out to the open air with him so they're BOTH coming out of the closet together. That's solidarity, that's love.

Prudence leaves in search of better things, and the rest of the gang joins a big acid-fueled fest/party/event that includes Bono as an amalgamation of Leary and Kesey as well as an analogue of the Merry Prankster's bus Furthur (which is called Beyond in the film). In real life, the bus Furthur was driven by Neal Cassady, AKA famous bisexual hookup king Dean Moriarty. While Jude and Lucy are having trippy cuddling seshes, I don't see why Max couldn't get a seduction of his own by whatever Neal Cassady analogue they came up with.

Ultimately the story of Across the Universe doesn't quite sit right with me, because I think the end fails the rest of the story. When Max is dragged to Vietnam to fight a war that is wildly immoral and is likely to kill him, Jude and Lucy comfort each other. Until they don't. They're not on the same page. They're both hurting, but Lucy is a fighter who needs to do something. She joins an anti-war protest group. Jude can't handle his own fear and hurt, so he comes up with a bullshit reason to pick a fight with Lucy over her work. He doesn't respect it, and he doesn't respect or trust her to handle her own shit and stay loyal. He gets a bit controlling, because he's afraid of losing both of the people he loves the most. She dumps him, and in the mess that follows, he gets deported back to Liverpool.

That's a good story, but what it also shows is that not every relationship works. That's okay! It's a good story to show a relationship that fundamentally is incompatible. The soundtrack does a lot of work there too. The Jude/Lucy songs are mostly all basic romantic songs, whereas the Max and Jude songs are showing the story, showing their place in the world, their relationship in other ways, etc. It's just more compelling. And Lucy deserves better than returning to a man that disrespected her agency and values that way, even though, yes, he was in a lot of pain and frightened for her.

Max sustains a head injury and returns home. Lucy visits him in the hospital. He's deeply traumatized and the carefree boy who never liked violence before wishes he had a gun. He's lonely. He's damaged. He misses his best friend. Everything's changed but that. He still loves Jude.

When Jude returns to America, it's Max that comes to greet him and jumps into his arms in what might be the cutest scene in the movie. (Of course it's while he's singing the screaming part of "Hey Jude," what else?) They go to see their friends (Sadie, Jo-Jo, and Prudence), who are doing an illegal rooftop concert, and to surprise Lucy. And that's how the movie ends, with Jude singing "All You Need is Love" while Lucy watches from the opposite rooftop.

Absolutely no discussion. Nothing. I don't know why he came back to her. I know why he came back to Max. I know why Max pounced on him instantly. I think this movie could be vastly improved by Jude coming back for his circle of friends, and maybe even for Max specifically, one way or another. The implication that Jude and Lucy will be lovers again just doesn't jibe with what I've just watched. She doesn't even get to speak an opinion here, just stand there while Jude makes a big gesture. They should be friends again, but not romantically involved.

I could fix this. Before Jude returns, let Max and Lucy TALK about him. Get them high or drunk. Or both! "Would you want him back?" "Maybe as a friend. I don't think we could make it work." "Well that's cool…I saw him first anyway." "What, haha, you want him?" (absolutely toasted off his ass) "Yeah, no, yeah, yeah…can I go for it?" "…What?" "Oh shit." "You're…serious?" "Oh fuck. Don't tell Mom and Dad."

Then when she sings "Blackbird" for him, it means even more.

That's just me throwing something down, we can improve that scene, obviously. Then when Jude and Max are on the phone, Max can be like, "Hey, we all miss you like crazy. BTW Lucy is uh, pretty moved on. I hope you'll come home anyway."

And he does because that's the important part of the movie! Not the romance. The friendships, the circle, finding your people, finding yourself.

Max AND Lucy meet Jude at the docks. We can keep the pouncing bit, Max still sings most of "Hey Jude," and the Jude and Lucy reunion is slightly awkward. It's clear that the love is there, but the romance is not. The trio goes to the rooftop concert and "All You Need is Love" is fully about the whole circle: Jude, Max, Lucy, Prudence, Sadie, Jo-Jo, and maybe even Rita if she's there. Maybe Max watches Jude all wistful. Maybe Jude even returns the gaze, if we're feeling brave.

And yeah then they make out sloppy style behind an amp or whatever. Obviously.

I love Across the Universe, but Max should've been gay. It would've elevated this beautiful movie so much.

[smileysuh]

apartment complex

🌙 starring. Johnny Suh x afab!Reader I ft. Haechan & Jaehyun

🔮 preview. So… Johnny works on a rig for long periods of time, Jaehyun is a gym rat with dimples, and Hyuck is a… drug dealer who’s not afraid to be extremely direct and combative? And they’re all your neighbours and also into you? How did you get yourself into this mess? 

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, pent-up sexual tension, shower sex, masturbation, fingering, hand job, thigh riding, praise, dirty talk, breast worship/nipple play, big dick Johnny, pussy stretching, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, multiple reader orgasms, multiple sex positions, size kink (Johnny is big and a slight manhandler), mentions of aftercare, etc… I pet names: (hers) 304, baby, princess. 

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 13.3k

🍭 aus. Love square, slice of life, neighbours to lovers, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. So when Johnny calls her the nickname ‘304,’ we’re not doing full numbers, it’s ‘three-oh-four’ which I actually think is kind of cute haha 

One:

You feel like an absolute mess. Your hair is all over the place, you’re in a full sweats ensemble that is - true to its name - making you perspire like nothing else as you lug boxes upon boxes of your stuff into your building and up to your new apartment.

To make matters worse, you’re exhausted. Moving days have this absolutely draining effect, and you can’t wait for the day to be over. You’re not even sure if you’ll unpack anything- maybe you’ll just fish out a towel and some body wash from one of the many crates you have, shower, then collapse onto your mattress- do you even have the energy to set up your bed frame?

You’re busy trying to plan out how you’re going to even accomplish the day, when the elevator doors open, and you find yourself staring up at one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen.

“Hi,” he grins, stepping next to you in the small space. “Moving in?”

You’re so distracted by the way his biceps look in his muscle shirt that it takes you a moment to speak. “Uh, yeah.”

“I’m Johnny,” he tells you.

“y/n.” The box in your hands is beginning to slip from the sweat on your palms, and you haphazardly readjust it on your hip.

“This might be a little forward,” Johnny chuckles, “but do you need any help?”

“Uh…” You turn once again to look up at this absolute tower of a man. “I’m almost done moving everything-”

“Let me guess, boxes done, just some furniture stuff left?”

You feel your skin flush with heat. “Is it that obvious that I’m struggling right now?” An awkward laugh escapes your lips, and you’re happy to find Johnny return the sound with a soft, understanding smile.

“Usually when cute girls move somewhere, they have a boyfriend, a brother, a dad, a friend- someone to help them do the tough stuff, and since you’re alone, I’m guessing you’re troopering this whole thing out all by yourself.”

“New city,” you explain. “I don’t uh- don’t know anyone here just yet, and my family didn’t want to take time off work to help with any of this.”

“Lucky you bumped into me then,” Johnny grins. “I just finished up at the gym, but I’ve got energy to help a new neighbour.”

The elevator dings to signal you’ve made it to your floor, and Johnny follows you out.

“You’re the new tenant for 304?” he asks.

“Uh huh,” you nod, stopping in front of the unit you now call home.

“We really are neighbours,” Johnny laughs. “I’m 306.”

“Look it was nice to meet you,” you say, “but you really don’t need to help, I’m sure I can manage my bed and a few other things-”

“y/n,” Johnny interrupts you, “I promise I’m not some creep, just a good neighbour offering help. You look tired, let me help you.”

Your pride makes it difficult to accept this sort of thing, but you swallow it, offering Johnny a nod. 

And that’s how you find yourself moving your bed and the last bit of furniture into your new apartment with one of the sexiest guys you’ve ever seen. He’s quite the charmer, and he’s reassuring too- calming you down when things are a little heavy, and slowing his own pace to match your exhaustion.

In no time at all, everything is out of the moving truck, and Johnny leans in your doorway as he watches you slump into a chair. 

“Do you want help making your bedframe or anything?” he enquires.

“Honestly? I think I’m going to call it a day,” you admit. “The drive here was long, I’ve been up since five AM, didn’t sleep well last night due to nerves-”

“Sounds like you should get some rest,” Johnny nods.

“I really appreciate your help though,” you offer. “I’ll uh, have to buy you beers or something.”

Johnny only laughs. “That’s not necessary. Besides, I work on a rig, so I’m only here a week or so every month, you caught me at a good time.”

“Oh.” You can’t help the disappointment that surges through you. Of course this man was too hot to be true- of course he has a job that requires him to be away for long periods or he’d probably have an equally hot girlfriend already.

“But… let me give you my number, and if you ever need anything while I am here, you can just give me a shout.” 

The two of you exchange digits, and with one final smile, Johnny leaves you be. 

You lay on your bed for a while, trying to calm down- from the moving, or from being around a ten out of ten, you’re not sure. 

Two:

It’s your first time doing laundry in the new building, and to your disappointment, you find the shared laundry room to have no available machines.

A sigh escapes you as you stand there momentarily, wondering if you should wait five minutes for a turn over, or just scratch this whole idea and hope there are empty machines tomorrow.

As you’re considering your options, the laundry room door opens, and a tall blonde enters.

“Hi,” he beams.

“Hello.” You watch him carefully, noticing that he heads to a machine to take out his clothes from the washer. “Uh- do you mind if I put my stuff in there once it’s empty?”

“Of course not,” he smiles. “With only six machines for the whole building, it can be a bit rough trying to nab one on busy days.”

“I’ve noticed,” you laugh. “I’m new here, my name is y/n.”

“I’m Jungwoo,” he tells you, moving his clothing into the only empty dryer. He turns on the machine and then steps back, looking over at you again. “So are you new to the building or new to the city?”

“The city,” you admit, beginning to move your stuff into the now empty washer.

“You have that look.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just- a lot of people here are boring, we’re not exactly known for fashion or anything like that-”

You look down at the Stitch onesie you’re wearing that you’d bought for Halloween a few years back but has since become a comfort outfit, then back up at the blonde.

“I just like your style!” he insists. “Not everyone can rock blue pajamas!”

You find yourself laughing at his sincerity, shaking your head as you grab your washer fluid to get the machine going.

“Anyways,” Jungwoo sighs. “Did you move here for work?”

“I actually work online,” you tell him. “I can work from anywhere, and I figured this would be a nice place to get out of the big city for a while- cheaper rent, more nature, that sort of thing.”

“Makes sense,” Jungwoo nods. “I’m a server at a bar just down the road.”

You take a moment, then laugh. “You seem like a server.”

“Because I’m so cute and social?” he grins.

“Definitely,” you nod, enjoying his energy.

“Anyways, I love making friends, and since you’re new to the city, I’m guessing you haven’t met a lot of people yet. If you want to be friends, I’d love to add you to my gossip roster.”

“Your gossip roster?”

“I’m a server, which means I love all things tea- except for when grandmas order actual tea in the middle of a rush, that’s the worst.”

“I’ll take your word on it,” you grin.

“So… friends?” Jungwoo asks.

You nod. “We can be friends.”

Three:

It’s been three weeks since you moved into your new apartment, and in that time, you’ve gotten settled, and even visited Jungwoo at his bar. He’s an interesting friend, and he seems to know everything about everyone.

At first, you’d been worried about any ulterior motives he might have, as you’ve experienced many men try to make a move on you under the guise of just wanting to be your friend. But now, you realize Jungwoo’s intentions towards you are pure- or, as pure as they can be given how much gossip he consumes.

You get the sense that you’re not his type, and that’s a hundred percent okay with you, in fact, it’s a dynamic that makes you finally feel comfortable accepting an invitation to visit his apartment.

It seems all the attractive men in your building live on your floor, and as you enter his unit, you find yet another cute man standing in the kitchen.

“This is Mark,” Jungwoo introduces you. “Mark, this is y/n. Don’t worry, Lee, I’ve told her everything about you.”

“Oh, great,” Mark sighs.

It’s true, Jungwoo has divulged way too deep into his roommate’s history. You know that he’s a content creator and chef, he used to work in a prestigious restaurant, went on one of those reality cooking shows, managed to be the runner up for the first place prize despite his awkward nature, and has now been commissioned to write a cookbook focused solely on burgers (which Jungwoo has assured you is actually a broad topic despite what you might think).

You also know that Mark has a limited dating history, with a high school sweetheart who left him right before his stint on live tv, and a new crush on some barista that he’s too shy to even talk to despite the fact that he goes to her coffee shop every day just to order frothed milk with vanilla since caffeine doesn’t agree with him.

“So what’s on the menu tonight, chef?” Jungwoo asks, coming to stand right behind Mark in the kitchen.

From the way Mark clears his throat and steps back, it’s obvious to you that he’s not as comfortable about being close to people as Jungwoo is, and you find yourself enjoying this roommate dynamic already.

“I’m actually testing some stupid protein burger for muscle heads,” Mark admits.

“Aren’t burgers already high in protein since they’re meat?” you ask.

“Yes, and no,” Mark groans, “it depends. I want to have a few vegetarian and even vegan options in the cookbook I’m writing on burgers- and lots of people want high protein even in their plant based meals.” 

“So… what are your options for this burger you’re trying to create?” you enquire. 

“I’ve tried some black bean patties, chickpea patties, that sort of thing- but I’m considering making an entire two page fold dedicated to dredges and batters that you could use on a variety of burgers, meat or vegetarian. I got everything to make a protein powder infused batter, but I’m just now realizing that the protein powder I have on hand is chocolate flavoured, which really won’t work if I put it on anything, let alone a tofu burger.”

“Call Jae,” Jungwoo says simply. “That man has a collection of protein powder that would make a man on steroids combust.”

“Maybe I should just run to the store,” Mark sighs.

“You only need a small scoop of powder, right?” Jungwoo counters. “Why would you go buy an entire plain jug of protein powder when a protein head lives next door?”

“I’d hate to bother him,” the chef groans again, and you find yourself starting to realize the true depth of his social anxiety. 

“I’ll call Jaehyun,” Jungwoo states, pulling out his phone.

You take a seat at the island counter while Jungwoo makes a deal for some powder with this ‘Jae’ person, and you watch Mark fuss over other ingredients that he adds to a dry mixing bowl.

There’s a knock at the door, and then a man peaks his head inside of the apartment.

Your eyes lock and the wind is knocked from your lungs- is every hot man in the city living in your building?

“Jae!” Jungwoo yells, “come in!”

The man steps into the apartment, offering a smile, and the dimples in his cheeks practically blind you. There’s no way around it, this man looks like a model. He’s handsome, but there’s a slightly feminine softness to the angles of his face, a warmth in his eyes, and it’s absolutely captivating.

“Am I interrupting?” Jae asks as he approaches the kitchen, his eyes continuously meeting your own.

“Not at all, Mark’s just floundering as usual, and I’m hanging out with my new friend. y/n, this is Jaehyun, Jaehyun, this is y/n.” 

“Nice to meet you,” you smile.

“You too.” Jaehyun sets a tub of protein powder onto the kitchen counter next to Mark, then he turns his full attention to you again. “So how did you meet Jungwoo?”

“In the laundry room,” Jungwoo is quick to explain, and you don’t miss the exchange of glances between Jaehyun and your friend. “She’s new to the building.” Jungwoo practically winks at Jaehyun, and you get the suspicion that he’s trying to set you up with this model looking protein man.

“I love meeting new neighbours,” Jaehyun says smoothly. “What floor are you on?”

“This one, room 304.”

“No way.” Jaehyun’s eyes widen. “That’s right across from mine!”

“You’re 305?” you ask, heart beating faster in your chest.

“In the flesh,” Jaehyun grins.

“Can we move the talking somewhere else?” Mark asks quietly. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

The energy fizzles immediately, and Jaehyun nods. “I was actually just heading to the gym.”

“Of course you were,” Jungwoo rolls his eyes.

“But uh, I’ll see you around,” Jaehyun says, looking at you directly. “Welcome to the building.” 

Four:

You suppose you shouldn’t be shocked when meeting cute men in your apartment building anymore, but you still find your breath leaving your body when you’re bringing groceries up from the parking garage only for a very cute man to enter the elevator.

He steps in and flashes you a smirk, then looks at the floor buttons. “You’re headed to three?” he asks.

“Uh huh.”

“Are you new?”

“Been here about a month.”

“Huh,” the man looks stumped for a moment. “I feel like I would have seen you. I’m Hyuck by the way.”

“y/n.”

Hyuck nods. “Are you liking the building?”

“It’s nice,” you muse, too tired from your day at the grocery store to make much smalltalk. 

“You must be… unit 304? I’m a couple of doors down, near the corner. I know someone moved out, and I heard from the building manager that someone was moving in, but fuck, I can’t believe I haven’t met you yet.”

“I can be kind of reclusive,” you joke. “I mean, I work from home.”

“Ahhh, you’re one of those girls.” Hyuck grins at you knowingly and your heart leaps into your throat.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs. “Just, you know, sometimes the cutest girls are the ones that stay in their house all day.”

“Oh.” You’re really not sure how to respond to his statement, and your eyes shift down to the floor as the elevator comes to a stop.

The two of you both turn to the left, and Hyuck walks in step with you to your door, where he stops. “What’s that?”

You’re confused for a moment, too busy fumbling with your keys, but when you look up, you realize there’s a sticky note on your door. 

“Looks like you already have an admirer,” Hyuck grins. “Was nice to meet you, we should hang sometime,” he reads. “Who do you think left this?”

You’re pretty sure it was Jaehyun who left the note- after all, the only other people you know are Jungwoo and Johnny, who both have your number, and you doubt Mark Lee of all people would be this forward. 

“I uh-” you stutter a little, swallowing thickly. “I’m not sure.”

“So are you single, or…?”

“Definitely single,” you blurt out, pushing your key into the door and clicking it unlocked.

“Definitely single,” Hyuck repeats as you push into your apartment, “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Five:

You’re finishing up after dinner when your phone makes a beeping sound, and you quickly pick it up, surprised to see a message from Johnny.

‘Looks like you’ve got some secret admirers, 304.’

Your stomach drops, and you realize that in your haste to enter your apartment after finding Jaehyun’s note with Hyuck earlier, you hadn’t actually removed it from your door- but wait, admirers? As in… plural? 

Tripping over yourself to get to the door, you throw it open to find not one sticky note, but two.

While Jaehyun’s initial ‘Was nice to meet you, we should hang sometime’ is still there, someone has taken the liberty to put a second note on top of it, and this one reads; ‘I’m more fun, let’s have drinks.’

It’s clear who the second note is from, and you’re quick to rip both off of your door. 

Jaehyun and Hyuck are both quite forward, and your heart is racing as you go sit on your couch, feeling conflicted.

You pull out your phone again, releasing a deep sigh as you write up a text to Johnny. ‘This apartment building is so weird.’

‘Boys will be boys,’ comes his quick response. 

Taking another breath to calm yourself, you look at the texts, and that’s when you realize, ‘I didn’t know you were back from the rigs.’ 

‘Got back a couple of days ago :)’ 

Tapping your fingers against your couch, you try to figure out how you should play this.

You’re most attracted to Johnny, but now that Jaehyun and Hyuck are so clearly demonstrating their blooming affection for you - out in the open where everyone on your floor can see - you wonder if that might throw a wrench at Johnny’s own feelings for you…

Does Johnny like you?

When he’d helped you move your things, was that just him genuinely being nice? 

You feel absolutely twisted, especially since you’ve never considered yourself the type of girl to entertain a long distance relationship…

‘So… you’re in town for a few more days?’

‘three!’ 

You definitely need to sort out your priorities. 

Six:

You’re in need of a drink as you walk into Jungwoo’s work, taking a seat at the bar and releasing a deep sigh.

“For a girl who came to happy hour, you don’t look too happy,” Jungwoo muses as he moves to stand in front of you.

“Is it that obvious?” you laugh.

“I mean… you’re the hot new girl in 304 who has two guys fighting over you in sticky notes, I’d expect you to be a little more up beat.” 

“You saw that?” you ask in shock.

“Everyone saw it. Whoever left those notes weren’t exactly subtle… who did leave those notes, by the way?”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head at your friend’s need for gossip. “You know one of them at least.”

“Jae, I’m guessing,” Jungwoo nods. “He asked me for your number but since I’m your friend I’m not just out here handing around your personal information.”

“I appreciate that.”

“And guy number two?” he enquires.

“Some dude named Hyuck.”

An interesting expression immediately appears on Jungwoo’s face. It’s something between an ‘oooooh!’ and an ‘ooop!’ and you can’t quite place the emotion.

“What?” you ask, leaning forward. “You know him?”

“Everyone knows Hyuck.”

“They do?”

“Let’s just say…” Jungwoo’s voice lowers as he leans over the bar, “he’s a provider of things that a lot of people like to get their hands on.”

“Huh?” 

“A plug, there, you tortured it out of me, Hyuck is a plug,” Jungwoo throws his hands up as if you just twisted his arm for the information, and you stare at him blankly.

“A plug,” you repeat.

“You can’t be that innocent, babes, you know what I mean.”

You sit back in your chair, thinking it through.

So… Johnny works on a rig for long periods of time, Jaehyun is a gym rat with dimples, and Hyuck is a… drug dealer who’s not afraid to be extremely direct and combative? And they’re all your neighbours and also into you? How did you get yourself into this mess? 

“Where did you even meet Hyuck?” Jungwoo asks.

“In the elevator?”

“Why did that sound like a question?” your friend laughs.

“I don’t know! God, I’m just… overwhelmed.”

“There are worse things to be overwhelmed about, I mean… tax season is coming soon, and I don’t know how much fraud I should commit with my tips.” 

You can’t help but laugh at Jungwoo, and he’s succeeded in using humour to calm you down. 

He’s grinning at you, and he taps his hand onto the bar top. “Let me make you a drink, on me, but you’ll be paying me with gossip, deal?” 

“Deal.”

You trust Jungwoo to make you drinks by now, and he doesn’t ask what you want, he simply begins to mix a fruity concoction together. Soon, he’s setting it down in front of you and you’re taking a large gulp.

“So…” he grins. “Hyuck or Jae?”

“Are those my only options?”

Jungwoo’s eyes widen. “Spill the tea.”

“I just… I met this guy Johnny when I moved in-”

“Johnny as in super tall, blue collar, muscle man, Johnny?”

“Sounds like him,” you laugh.

“And you met him the first day you moved in?”

“He actually helped me with boxes and furniture.”

Jungwoo lets out a whistle. “Now I see why you’re overwhelmed.”

“I guess, I just don’t really know any of these guys too well. I’ve only met all of them once-”

“But you have a favourite,” Jungwoo interjects. “Johnny’s your favourite, despite his fucked up job.”

You sigh. “How could you tell?”

“I watch a lot of reality tv, in shows like Love is Blind or Singles Inferno sometimes a girl has multiple guys going for her, but the first one leaves a mark… it’s not always the case though, but it’s about that initial impact.” 

“Impact,” you repeat. “Johnny definitely made an impact… and he saw the notes from Hyuck and Jae.”

“Oooooh,” Jungwoo grins, “scandalous.” 

“But he works away for weeks at a time!”

“He’s here now,” Jungwoo points out. “So… go on a date with him, and sort out Hyuck and Jae after.”

“You think so?”

“What could be wrong about it?” Jungwoo shrugs. “Go on a date with Johnny, see how you feel- maybe he does something gross that turns you off and it makes life easier.”

“Or maybe he’s perfect and it makes things even worse,” you sigh.

“You never know until you try. Another thing from my dating shows is that no one wants to live with regrets, and I don’t think you do either.” 

Seven:

You’d taken Jungwoo’s advice, and after two drinks at the bar, you’re home, waiting for a knock that sounds on your door.

Taking a deep breath, you fix your outfit, approaching your entry way to find Johnny standing in the hall. He looks all tall and gorgeous, in a similar laid back muscle shirt and sweats combo to the one you’d first seen him in. His hair is a little messy and damp as if he’d just come out of a shower, and the smell of his piney bodywash has you going weak. 

“Hi,” he grins. 

“Hi,” you smile back. “Uh, come in.”

Johnny nods, stepping past the threshold. “Are you a shoes off in the house kind of girl?”

“Yes, please.”

You watch him kick off his runners before turning to you. “I’m a little confused.”

“You are?”

“I got your text that you wanted me to come over, and I half expected you needed help building some cabinet or something, but then I remembered you’ve been here a month already, so now I don’t really know what I’m doing here.”

“I told you I’d buy you a beer for helping me move my stuff, remember?” You let out an awkward chuckle. “I don’t have beer, but I did open a bottle of wine.”

“That works,” Johnny grins.

“Come, sit.” You move to your living area, taking a seat on the couch. Johnny joins you, and you note the way he immediately shifts his body to be facing you. He watches you pour him a glass, and you both notice your shaky hand as you pass it to him.

“How much have you been drinking, 304?”

“A bit.”

“Rough day?” he enquires with a smile.

“Just…” you let out a deep breath. “Not used to all the attention I’m getting here.”

“Yeah, your entourage.” Johnny sips his drink, still grinning as if this is the funniest thing in the world.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’m not the kind of person who loves getting a lot of attention?”

Johnny cocks his head to the side. “I think it’s hard for a girl who looks like you to avoid that sort of thing.”

God, he is into you, you can taste it- or maybe that’s the sweet notes of your wine. 

You don’t know what to say, but you feel a grin appear on your face, your eyes shifting down to your glass. “I don’t know about that.”

“Just an observation,” Johnny laughs. “So… what are you going to do about all of this?”

“I think…” you swallow thickly. “I think I’m doing something right now.”

“Yeah?”

You look up at him, smiling. “Yeah.”

Now it’s Johnny’s turn to be at a loss for words, and you get the sense that this isn’t something that happens very often to him.

“I’m sure you know what it’s like to get a lot of attention,” you offer.

Johnny shrugs. “I’m only in town a week every month, and when I’m here I spend most of my time at the gym or at home. I’ve never been a big party guy, I prefer cheap beer to bars, and I guess I’ve just accepted that a guy like me has to be single.”

“You have to be?” you enquire, cocking your head to the side in a bid to understand him better. 

“Most girls aren’t interested in starting anything with a man who works on a rig. I understand the guys who have girls before the job, and they stay after building a foundation, but it’s hard to work on the start of a relationship when you’re not around.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” you nod- in fact, it’s something you’ve considered to great length already. “If… if the right girl came along, would that be something you’re interested in exploring?”

Johnny lets out a deep breath. “That’s a good question.” 

You watch him sip his wine, giving him the space to consider it.

“I just… I wouldn’t want a girl to feel like she’s an afterthought, or a fuck buddy- and doing the work I do, I have to be focused. It’s day rate, it’s dangerous, sometimes the rigs are a couple hours away from camp, and that’s on top of a twelve hour shift-” He lets out another deep sigh. “I think it would take a very special, very loyal kind of girl to give me a chance.”

“And what would you say your type is?”

His eyes meet yours. “I love a cute girl next door.”

Your heart thumps in your chest. “Funny, I like a boy next door.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re neighbours.”

Johnny lifts his glass and you clink yours together, giggling.

It’s crazy how things can feel so comfortable with him already- but in the background of your mind there’s a sense of dread looming, after all, he’s leaving in just two or so days.

“Can I be honest with you?” you ask.

“Of course.”

“I’m sad you’re leaving soon.”

“I’m not leaving yet,” he points out.

“You know what I mean.”

Johnny shifts, resting his arm on the back of your couch. “I have a proposition for you, 304.”

“God, stop calling me 304,” you laugh.

“It feels like we’re interested in each other, but I get the sense you’re unsure about the long distance aspect. What if we hang out tonight, tomorrow I take you on an actual date, and if things go well, we could talk about what communication would look like when I’m away.”

“You know what?” you take a deep breath. “I would like that.”

“But… I have on condition.”

“Hit me.”

Johnny is quiet for a moment. “I’m aware that, no matter how good our dates tonight and tomorrow are, me being away might be too much for you. You have two other guys who are interested and they live here, so… even though I’m a cuddly person, I think it’s better for both of us if we keep things PG before I leave, that way… I mean, if you chose one of them because distance is too much, at least things won’t be awkward for us, and we can still be friends.” 

“I think…” - as much as you hate the idea and want to climb him like a tree - “I think that might be the most mature way to handle this.” 

Johnny nods. “So… what are your thoughts on aliens?”

“Huh?”

“UFO’s, UAP’s, USP’s-”

“What even are all of those?” you laugh.

“Unidentified flying objects, unidentified aerial phenomenon, which is pretty much another term for UFO’s, unidentified submersible phenomenon-”

You shake your head at him in affectionate shock. “Where did you learn all of this?” 

“History network,” Johnny grins. “Listen, why would I ask you surface level questions when we can dive into conspiracy theory? UFO’s are a good way to bounce into all sorts of topics, religion, politics, current and historical events-”

He’s a little odd, but you suppose you understand where he’s coming from now. You decide to give up control, and you lean into his question, loving the twists and turns that the conversation takes. You talk about everything, from the moon landing, to ancient monolithic structures and tv shows about space, a discussion about recent alien films leads to an analysis on favourite actors-

Before you even know it, hours have passed, the wine bottle is empty, and you feel as if you know him a lot better than when he’d first entered your apartment. 

“Do you work tomorrow?” he asks.

You sigh, looking at the time. “At nine.”

“I should probably get out of your hair then. When are you off?”

“Fiveish.”

Johnny stands up, stretching, and you can’t help the way your eyes move to the exposed strip of V-line when his shirt rises. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow at fiveish, 304.”

You rise to your feet, pleasantly surprised when the gentle giant pulls you in for a hug. God, the feeling of his chest against your cheek- the soft cotton of his muscle shirt and the scent of his cologne- you release a deep breath, fully melting into what must be one of the best hugs of your life.

“I’ll text you,” Johnny says, and as he does so, his lips brush the crown of your head.

He’d said PG, and you suppose this is PG, but fuck, you want more.  

Eight:

Out of all the possible date venues, you hadn’t expected bowling. Johnny had told you to dress casually, he’d picked you up, and taken you down to a massive black truck- he’d driven you around town, pointing things out to you, and you’d ended up at a small, underground bowling bar.

He’s a bit of a goof ball, but you can tell he’s got experience playing this game. To compensate for your lack of skills, he does all sorts of trick shots that make him miss points, and you appreciate his effort to not decimate you. 

You drink beer and chat and play, and again, it feels so natural with him. 

When the game is over, the two of you get in the truck, and Johnny says he wants to show you something. A fifteen minute drive leads you to the edge of town, on a lookout that’s perfect now that it’s dark and the small city’s lights are sparkling.

“Do you take all your dates here?” you tease.

Johnny chuckles. “Would you believe me if I told you I haven’t been on a date in a while?”

“I guess with your job, I would,” you pause, looking over at him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

The large man releases a sigh. “I had a highschool sweetheart,” he starts. “But as time went by, she couldn’t deal with me being a blue collar man. She was very corporate, and our life styles weren’t exactly a match. When she broke up with me, I switched from construction to the rig jobs, figured it would be easier to just put my head down and work. Been doing that for about six years now.”

“So you haven’t dated since highschool?” you ask in shock.

“There’ve been a couple of things here and there. Took a few summers off, had flings, but shit always hit the fan when I went back to work.” 

“That makes sense,” you nod. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m a family man at heart,” he assures you. “As a supervisor, I definitely make enough money to take care of the people in my life, but it’s always been a time issue.” Johnny takes a breath, and then he meets your gaze. “What about you? Any skeletons in your closet?”

“Had a couple of failed relationships, the last one inspired me to move away from my home city and come here so I guess there’s a silver lining to it. Ended things with my ex about a year ago and nothing really felt the same after that, figured a change of scenery would do me good.”

“And has it? Done you good?”

You look over at the gorgeous man sitting next to you. “Definitely.” 

It feels like the perfect moment to kiss him, and you note the way his gaze dips to your lips, but then he pulls back, letting out a sigh. “You’re dangerous.”

“Me!?” You act scandalized.

“Yes, you, little miss 304.”

You can only laugh, doing your best to enjoy the rest of your date with him while the knowledge that he’s leaving tomorrow haunts in your periphery. 

Nine:

Johnny’s been gone for three days, and he’s been true to his word when you’d discussed communication while he’s on the rig. He’s kept contact with you, sending good morning messages for you to wake up to, and texting or calling in the late evening when he’s off work.

However, other things have progressed as well. You’d come out of your apartment this morning to find not one, but two bouquets waiting for you, and you feel as if this thing with Jaehyun and Hyuck is getting out of hand.

You find yourself at Jungwoo’s bar again, giving him the rundown on everything that has happened.

“So you’re like, set on Johnny then, huh?” your friend asks.

“I’m not sure, it’s only been three days that he’s been gone but I miss him already, and I can’t even imagine what it will be like to wait another nineteen days-”

“You always knew distance would be a struggle,” Jungwoo nods.

You groan, taking a sip of your fruity cocktail. “I just can’t believe Jaehyun and Hyuck left flowers at my door.”

“You’re going to have to do something about them.”

“Like what?”

“Reject or accept, babes,” Jungwoo says simply. 

“Accept?”

“You’re not technically dating Johnny yet. It sounds like he understands you might go on a date or two while he’s gone, I mean, you had that whole conversation about keeping things PG so it’s not awkward if he comes back and you’ve chosen someone else- it feels like he’s giving you breathing room to explore.”

You can only sigh, resting your head in your hands.

“Do you want to explore?” Jungwoo enquires. 

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you’re going to bump into Jaehyun or Hyuck sometime, so you better figure it out fast.”

Ten:

As you’re returning from happy hour with Jungwoo, you run into your building manager. He’s a young man named Doyoung. He has a very regal look to him, and he’s as attractive as most of the men on the third floor.

He’s in the small building office, and as you walk past, he stops you.

“y/n!” he calls, waving you inside, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you!”

Your heart sinks- your payment wasn’t late, was it? Did you get a noise complaint? Your mind begins to race-

“I heard that people have been leaving notes and flowers at your door,” Doyoung tells you. “As you’re a young woman who is new to the building, I wanted to check in with you and make sure you’re not being harassed.”

Your brain short circuits- it’s one thing for Jungwoo and other people on the third floor to know about your ‘secret admirers’ but another for your building manager to be broaching the topic with you. 

“I uh,” you swallow thickly. “I’m not being harassed.”

Doyoung gives you a pointed look. “You’d tell me if you were, right?”

“Of course,” you assure him. “It’s all just playful, nothing… nefarious.”

God, you hate how proper you’re trying to sound, but how else are you supposed to explain this situation to Doyoung? 

This is so awkward, who knew moving into a new apartment would be this fucking complex? 

Eleven:

You’re in the lobby checking your mailbox when the front door opens and Jaehyun walks in. His hair is windswept, and he looks like he’s getting back from the gym. He immediately flashes you that dimpled smile and your heart begins to thunder in your rib cage.

“Hey, you,” he grins. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, I’ve uh… been busy,” you offer, quickly closing your mail box.

“Seems that way,” Jaehyun muses, and you realize he’s waiting to go to the elevator with you.

Taking a deep breath, you pull up your big girl panties, walking with him to the lift.

He hits the button, turning to you. “So-”

The elevator opens and you find Hyuck standing there, having just come up from the underground parkade, and suddenly you feel like a deer caught in headlights.

“Hiya, hot stuff,” Hyuck grins. “Going up?”

Part of you wants to turn and run away, but you’re in too deep now to go back, so you enter the elevator with the two men who’ve been fighting for space on your door, and maybe also in your heart.

“How’ve you been?” Hyuck asks.

“I’ve been good, just busy,” you mutter quickly, hitting the ‘close door’ button in the hope that it saves you even one second in this awkward elevator ride.

“You coming from the gym?” Hyuck’s line of questioning has taken a turn, and you realize he’s addressing Jaehyun next to you. 

“Yup, you?”

“Was just out,” Hyuck responds vaguely.

You get the sense that these two might know each other in passing, after all, you all live on the same floor, but at the same time, it’s somewhat clear from their muted interaction that they’re not particularly close.

It’s an awkward, silent minute in the elevator, but it’s even more awkward when you all get off on the third floor, with both men letting you exit first, only to struggle in a pissing match over who follows you.

They end up tracing your steps to your door, and when you get there, they both stop.

“Wait,” Hyuck breathes, and you watch him look from you to Jaehyun then back again. “You must be sticky note dude.”

“And you’re flowers guy,” Jaehyun sighs.

Both of them turn to you and it’s Hyuck who asks, “You’re still single right?”

It must be obvious to them both that if they’re warring at your doorstep, neither of them actually have your number just yet, and while it’s awkward to be put on the spot like this, you understand their confusion.

“Still single,” you assure them, fumbling with your keys. “I uh, actually have only lived here a month, and I’m still getting settled-” you search for the right words while trying not to drop your phone. “I appreciate the interest from you both, but this has gotten a little out of hand- Doyoung asked me about all of this yesterday-”

“Doyoung?” Hyuck scoffs. “What does he care if we leave notes and flowers at your door?”

“I guess he’s just concerned about my safety?” you offer.

While you can tell that Jaehyun understands, Hyuck still seems a little slow to the pick up, rolling his eyes. “As if we’d ever do anything bad.”

Which is funny, coming from a guy who’s supposedly a drug dealer.

“I think I just need some space,” you say finally, shocked by the conviction in your own voice as you slip your key into the lock. “To… you know, settle.”

“I’m sure we can give you some space,” Jaehyun offers, and you can tell from his tone that it’s a warning to Hyuck not to argue.

The plug sighs. “Yeah, we can give some space.”

They’re both very handsome, and upon different circumstances, one of them doing the sticky note and flowers trick might have swayed you, but the fact that it’s become something of a war between them has turned you off. The seriousness in Doyoung’s discussion with you yesterday had made you realize as much, and you’d be lying if you said your growing connection with Johnny didn’t have anything to do with it either.

Twelve:

After the debacle with Jaehyun and Hyuck, you’d anxiously awaited a call with Johnny when he was done work and back at the camp. But now, as you talk to him on the phone, you hesitate about divulging in the events that took place today.

Johnny’s making an effort with you, but you can hear in his voice that he’s exhausted, and you don’t want to add pressure to his shoulders-

“Are you okay, 304?” Johnny asks.

“Hmm?”

“You’re just a bit quiet.”

“I’m thinking,” you admit with a sigh.

“Sounds intense, what’s up?”

Another deep breath escapes you. “So… remember the whole secret admirer thing?”

“Uh huh.”

“They left flowers on my doorstep a few days ago too, and Doyoung actually pulled me aside to ask me about it- he was worried I’m being harassed, and it just makes me think about, you know, being a young woman in a new city and my safety…”

You trail off and Johnny takes the opportunity to empathize, softly telling you, “Being anxious about this sort of thing is reasonable given the circumstances.” 

“It’s not that I think Jaehyun or Hyuck would ever overstep-”

“Well, they left notes, and you didn’t respond, so they left flowers, it’s not exactly a sign that they’re going to back off.”

“I guess that’s true,” you admit.

“Anyways, you were saying, about Doyoung?” 

You love how Johnny can get you back on track, and you take another deep breath to steady yourself. “I saw Jaehyun and Hyuck in the elevator today, and they both walked me to my door which was super awkward, and I guess I pretty much ended up telling them both that I needed space. Part of me wasn’t sure if I should tell you any of this, I know you’re tired after work a long day, but I guess I want to be transparent with you about everything.”

The line is quiet for a moment, and when Johnny speaks, you can tell he’s choosing his words carefully. “I appreciate you bringing it up,” he starts. “If I’m being honest, I’m a little shocked you didn’t accept either of their offers to get drinks.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, I thought I’d made it clear that I’d understand if you did-”

“Just because you’d understand it doesn’t mean I was going to do it,” you tell him.

Johnny chuckles. “I suppose that’s true. I just, I don’t know, you don’t owe me anything- and maybe you’re just not interested in either of them, but I hope you didn’t say no to them to… spare my feelings or something?”

“Well… are your feelings spared?” 

Another laugh escapes him. “I just mean to say, this wouldn’t be the first time a girl thought she could do long distance, only to get a better option in town and jump ship.”

“Maybe I’m not like the other girls you’ve dated,” you tell him.

“It’s starting to feel like you’re not.” You can hear the fondness in his voice, and it makes your heart race faster in your chest. 

“When I get one man in my head, I can’t think about another. I’m not the type to jump ship,” you explain. “You’ve given me no reason to.”

“Except the distance,” he muses.

“Even with the distance, you’ve been attentive every day, and I’ve really appreciated that. You know, some guys will live in the same city as you, take you on one date, then not talk to you for five days- you and I did two dates back to back, and we’ve been talking consistently ever since.”

“Like I said, I didn’t want you to feel like an afterthought.”

“And I don’t want you to feel like just an option.” 

The line is quiet for a moment, then Johnny laughs. “There you go, being dangerous again.”

“If being genuine is dangerous, then I’m the most dangerous woman you’ll ever meet, Johnny.”

“I work on a rig, 304, I happen to like danger.” 

Thirteen:

You’re drinking wine with Jungwoo in your livingroom when your phone dings, and a smile spreads across your face when you see it’s a text from Johnny.

“One second,” you tell him, putting down your wine to respond to your blue collar man.

“Johnny?” Jungwoo grins knowingly.

“Yup, he’s just telling me he’s off work, but now it’s a two hour drive back to the camp.”

“So our girls’ night is over in two hours, got it,” Jungwoo jokes, except, is it really a joke if it’s true?

You can only laugh, shaking your head and setting your phone down again.

“You like him,” Jungwoo notes. “You like him a lot.” 

“I do,” you confess.

“You told Jaehyun and Hyuck off because of him,” your friend continues.

“Uh huh.” You take a sip of your wine, trying to ignore the knowing expression on Jungwoo’s face.

“So… has it gotten sexual yet? You know, asking for snaps of your tits-”

“Jungwoo!” you squeal, nearly spilling your wine as you go to gently smack his arm.

“What!? It’s a valid question!”

“No! It’s not sexual yet! I mean… I think we both have those feelings, but right now… we’re just, getting to know each other.”

“And when he’s home?” Jungwoo cocks a brow and you giggle even more.

“When he’s home…” you lower your voice, “I’m going to climb that man like a tree.”

“I knew it!” Jungwoo cheers. “Team Johnny!”

You clink your glasses in agreement, waiting for Jungwoo to settle down a little. He’s way too invested in your love life, but you kind of adore it. 

“You know…” Jungwoo trails off, “some rig guys do mostly winters, then come back for the summer and will take a couple of months off. I remember seeing Johnny more frequently last August.”

“He mentioned that,” you admit. 

“Did he say if he plans to do that this year? It’s almost March, so that’s April, May, maybe June… three or four more stints up there until a possible summer of love?”

You laugh at his choice of words, but your heart races at the notion of getting to spend your whole summer with Johnny, of a relationship of normalcy. 

“I’ll have to talk to him about it,” you decide.

“Maybe send some sexy snaps to tempt him, or talk about it once he’s home and you’ve sucked that dick, you know, incentives.”

“You’re so bad,” you giggle.

“I’m a hit of realism, which is what you need after living a fantasy for a month with three men fighting over you.”

You let out a sigh. “I suppose you might be right about that.”

Fourteen:

“How was your day?” you ask, practically kicking your feet now that you get to talk to Johnny.

“Long,” he laughs. “You?”

“It was good, hung out with Jungwoo for a bit, had some wine.”

“I can hear it in your voice, 304, you always get extra cute when you’ve been drinking your wine.”

“Do I?” 

“See? I can just imagine you kicking your feet right now.”

God, he knows you so well already- but you suppose that’s what happens when you talk to someone for hours every day. 

“And now you probably stopped kicking your feet because you’re embarrassed,” he continues.

“You’re a psychic,” you declare.

“Sure I am.”

You take a breath. “There was actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“So… you mentioned that sometimes you have the summer off, and I guess, since it’s almost March, I was just wondering if you’d be around in June or July.”

“I mean, I wasn’t necessarily planning on it, but if that’s something you wanted, I could see what I could make happen.”

You pause, considering your words carefully. “I don’t want to tell you what to do… and, I don’t want you to lose out on money for me, especially since we just started dating, if you even call this dating- but, at the same time, I think, long term, it would be easier to manage you going away for six or more months if I knew you’d be back for at least part of the summer.”

“I do call this dating,” Johnny tells you. “So I’ll see what I can do about it.”

“I also wanted to know when you’re flight back is, I was thinking I could come grab you from the airport.” 

Johnny chuckles. “I’ll send you the information, 304.” 

Fifteen:

You’re waiting outside your car when you see Johnny coming out of the airport, and you simply can’t help yourself anymore. You run to him, throwing yourself into his arms.

Johnny chuckles, dropping his duffle to pull you closer, even going so far as to lift you off the ground, releasing a groan as he does so.

Fuck, he feels so good, and big, and warm-

When he sets you down, you throw inhibition out the window, grabbing the back of his neck to pull his lips down to your own.

He smiles into the kiss, his palm flattening against the small of your back, his mouth moving in harmony with your own. You kiss him deeply, pouring in all the emotion of having missed him for weeks- 

It’s you who breaks the kiss, panting and looking up at him. “Let’s get you home,” you state. 

“Whatever you say, 304.”

The drive back to the apartment complex is a blur, you’re so distracted by Johnny that you’re surprised you even make it back in one piece. The elevator ride is quiet, filled with tension, and you can practically feel happiness radiating off of both of you.

“Wanna come to mine?” Johnny suggests. “I need to have a quick shower, unpack a little.”

“Okay,” you nod, excited as you follow Johnny to his place.

He lets you in first, and you eagerly eat up what’s in front of you, looking for details of the decor that might help you know this man even better.

However, you find that his apartment is sparsely decorated, with bare necessities, a minimalist look, which you suppose makes sense given the fact that he’s hardly here.

“Your place is nicer,” Johnny muses as he kicks off his shoes. 

“It’s just more furnished,” you laugh, not minding the lack of items.

“My bedroom is this way,” Johnny explains, heading into it while you follow slowly. He throws his bag on the floor next to his bed before turning to you. “I’m going to wash up a bit, then we can do whatever you want… or, I mean, you could always join me in the shower if that works better.”

He winks at you, and it’s very playful. You can only laugh, shaking your head and feeling your skin flush with heat as you look at the ground.

“I’ll be here,” you tell him, but when he disappears into the bathroom, you find your heart is still racing.

Should you go in the shower with him? 

He had offered for you to join…

Can you be a bit more patient?

No. You can’t. As you stand in his bedroom, you begin to undress, hyping yourself up for the moment that you’ve been waiting for.

After a deep breath, you knock gently on the door to his bathroom.

“Come in!” he calls over the sound of water spray, and you peek your head into the enclosed space. 

The room is full of steam, and the glassy walls of the shower are fogged up, but you can see the outline of Johnny’s body and it has you drooling.

You slip inside, closing the door behind you before making your way to the shower.

“Can I join you?” you ask, giving him one last opportunity to decide if this was a bad idea-

“Get in here.” Johnny opens the shower door, grabs your arm and tugs you inside with him. You blink against the mist, looking up at the large man who’s currently blocking the spray of water from hitting you. “Didn’t think you’d actually join,” he muses with a grin.

“Me neither,” you admit.

Johnny strokes your arm, fingers trailing up so he can cup your face. His thumb brushes by your cheekbone and you lean into his warm touch, releasing a moan. 

“Do you want to do this here, or would you rather we wait till I can get you onto my bed?” he asks.

“Here,” you tell him. “I’m tired of waiting.”

“Didn’t take you as the impatient type,” Johnny chuckles.

“I’ve been patient, for weeks,” you laugh.

“I guess that’s true, let’s fix that.” The tall man leans down, pressing his lips to your own. You immediately wrap your arms around his strong, wet shoulders, pressing your chests together as the kiss deepens. 

You can feel your nipples hardening against him, and his hands move to grab at your hips, pulling you even tighter to his body.

Something is beginning to press against your abdomen, and you love that you’re getting him hard already, that he’s as into you as you are into him. 

His palm slips down, and he grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing deliciously. You break the kiss to throw your head back, eyes closed as you enjoy the sensation of him.

“You know the only bad thing about shower sex?” Johnny asks, lips hot against your throat now. “Water isn’t lube, so I guess you’re going to have to be a good girl for me and wait just a little longer while I get you nice and wet for me.”

“I’m already wet,” you insist.

Johnny only chuckles, squeezing your ass harder as he licks at the sweet spot on your throat. “Let me enjoy this, I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.”

“Really?” you groan. “I never would have noticed, you’re always so PG.”

“I’m not going to be PG anymore.”

“Thank god!” A shiver runs through your body at the idea of what ‘rated R Johnny’ is going to look like- and as he pushes his thigh up between your own, you’re so grateful that you no longer have to wonder, you’re about to find out exactly how dirty this blue collar man can get.

Johnny laughs again, but as he laughs, he pushes his thigh up even higher, making contact with your clit.

“Fuck, I haven’t been touched in so long,” you whimper, immediately grinding down against him.

“Well, you deserve this, you’ve been a very patient, very good girl for me.” 

“I have been,” you nod, rubbing your clit harder against his large, muscled thigh.

“Had options, but you stayed loyal, even when you didn’t have to.” Johnny’s still kissing your throat, and he nuzzles up against your ear, biting your lobe gently. “I feel like those choices have earned you many rewards.”

His words are something like praise- appreciation almost, and you’re thankful that he’s taken into account the fact that you’ve made important decisions to put this blooming relationship first, even when - as Jungwoo said - you had no actual defined loyalty keeping you tied to this tall man.

“I just like you a lot,” you moan, feeling overwhelmed with the possibilities of a relationship with this man- a man who has communicated that he’s interested in something long term, which is such a stark contrast to most of the men you deal with these days.

God, to have hope for a man again- it’s such a foreign feeling.

“I like you too, 304.”

“Johnny,” you groan, “call me something else.”

“I think 304 is cute,” he grins against your throat.

“Please?”

“Okay, baby, I’ll call you anything you want,” Johnny promises, adjusting his grip on you so he can trail his hand up your torso, putting a slight distance between your bodies now so he can cup your breast. His thumb rubs over your hard nipple and you whimper, grinding harder against his thigh. “You are a baby, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

“Yes,” you whimper.

“I could also see you as a bit of a princess,” he muses, pinching your nipple and making you gasp loudly. “Adorable little pretty princess baby.”

He might be overdoing it with the pet names, but you can’t even bring yourself to care- in fact, this overt cheesiness is doing something to you, making your pussy throb as you grind against his wet skin.

“That’s it,” Johnny groans, “I kind of want to watch you get off on my thigh.”

“Yeah?” You swallow thickly, reaching for his hard cock. You’re a little taken aback by how large he is, but you guess you shouldn’t be all that surprised. You’ve been shy so far, not even taking so much as a peek at what you’re going to be working with- and maybe that had been a mistake. You’d been so sure of yourself earlier when you’d told Johnny you could take him without prep, and now you’re realizing how wrong you had been.

A deep moan escapes Johnny as you begin to stroke him, and he rolls your nipple between his fingers, making you cry out- only for his hand to move away, along with his thigh.

You want to protest- only for two digits to press between your pussy lips, teasing your entrance but not pushing in- just playing, toying, moving up to your clit then back down.

“Fuck,” you whimper.

“You definitely feel wet,” Johnny muses.

“So finger fuck me?” you suggest, applying more pressure to his cock as you stroke him off.

“Hmm?” He circles your clit teasingly, being so gentle that your body is already practically begging for more.

“Please finger fuck me?” you ask, your free hand now clutching his forearm in desperation.

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

Johnny cups the back of your head, pulling your lips to his as his fingers enter your hot core for the first time.

Fuck, his fingers alone are enough to stretch you out and it feels absolutely delightful. 

He starts slow, testing the waters as his digits explore your inner walls gently, but as the kiss deepens so do his motions.

You’re absolutely lost in him, whimpering and moaning- your hips even begin to move, eagerly seeking out stimulus that he grants when his palm presses flat to your clit.

“Fuck,” you gasp, holding his strong, veiny forearm even tighter.

“Feels good?” he asks, looking down at you with lust filled eyes.

“Feels so good,” you nod, fighting the urge to just close your eyes and enjoy it, while also wanting to stare up at this gorgeous man who is watching you with clear interest.

You take a shuddery breath, trying to focus on stroking his cock, but he makes it more difficult when he crooks his fingers up, hitting that sweet spongy spot inside of you that has your legs shaking.

“Are you going to be able to stand through all of this?” Johnny chuckles. “That’s the other bad thing about shower sex, it’s a slipping risk.”

“I think I can do it,” you insist, not wanting him to stop his motions for even one moment.

“Just hold onto me tightly okay, but if you start to fall, uh… don’t pull my dick off.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, and Johnny joins you with a chuckle of his own.

This feels so natural, so safe- the fact that you’re both giggling during your first sexual experience together is a great sign, and it makes you relax a little more, which only adds to the pleasure that’s starting to throb out from your core.

“You close?” Johnny asks, sensing the shift in your attention.

“Too close,” you nod, swallowing thickly in an effort to control yourself.

“Want you to cum on my fingers,” he tells you. “You can do that for me, right princess?”

“Uh huh.” Your mind is becoming clouded by lust, and it’s making it harder for you to respond to him-

His fingers are moving fast now, pistoning in and out of you with just the right amount of pressure, his palm stimulating your clit in a way that’s just enough-

You’re getting closer and closer to the edge and you don’t feel like slowing down. 

Your eyes close, your breathing becoming haggard as your muscles tighten with anticipation-

“Cum on my fingers, baby,” Johnny groans. “Wanna feel it.” 

With that, you explode, unable to contain yourself anymore as his filthy words vibrate through your entire being like a mantra. The pleasure is intense, your core clamping down on his digits, body throbbing deliciously as you give yourself over to the feeling of it.

Your legs are weak, and you grab Johnny’s forearm tighter, digging your nails against his skin.

It’s the kind of ecstasy that you never want to end, and it’s clear that Johnny’s not going to be the one to pull the rug out from under you. He keeps you steady, working you through your high until your legs are physically shaking.

Only once he’s sure you’re finished does Johnny pull his hand away.

You open your eyes to watch him slip his fingers into his mouth, groaning at the taste of you, and an echo of pleasure throbs through your pussy again.

“You’re so pretty when you cum,” Johnny tells you.

“Want you inside of me, now,” you respond.

“Hmmm… not yet.”

“What?” 

“You almost just fell over, I don’t think this is the safest place to do this,” Johnny laughs. “Come on, let's get out of the shower, dry off, and I’ll take you to my bed, like I’d planned.”

“Is it really that bad to fuck me here?” you whine.

“One, I don’t want you to slip, and two, I don’t want our first time to be here, you deserve a proper bed, so I can cuddle you after.” 

“You’re such a romantic,” you tease, but your heart swells at the notion of a man actually taking care of you.

“You love it,” Johnny insists.

He reaches behind himself, turning off the spray of water, then, he helps you out of the enclosed space. “Here,” Johnny passes you a towel, quickly patting himself down with his own before wrapping it around his waist, then he begins to help dry you off.

“I can do this part,” you assure him.

“I want to take care of you,” Johnny muses as his palms massage your breasts through the towel, making sure they’re extra dry.

“I think you just want to touch my tits again,” you grin.

“That too,” Johnny laughs.

“Predictable,” you toy.

“You think so?”

“Uh huh.”

In one quick motion, Johnny grabs you by the hips and lifts you onto the washroom countertop, tearing the towel away and discarding it haphazardly as he sinks to his knees.

“I think I’m going to make you cum on my tongue before I fuck you, you know, to prove how predictable I am.”

You don’t even have a moment to argue, Johnny pushes your thighs open, pulls you to the edge of the counter, and dives into your core with his tongue. 

You immediately latch onto his damp hair, throwing your head back as his mouth begins to work your pussy. You’re still sensitive from having just cum, and the sensation of his lips now wrapping around your clit has your muscles clenching with pleasure already. 

“Fuck-” you whimper, loving the way Johnny’s fingers are digging into your thighs, holding you open for a tongue that has a mind of its own.

You especially adore how messy he’s being. There are no kitten licks, no hesitancies, just a full-on lust fuelled ravaging of your core- nothing in your life has ever felt this fucking good.

You tug on Johnny’s hair roughly, but he’s unrelenting, in fact, you think he kind of likes the inkling of pain because he groans against your clit, licking at you sloppily while his nose bumps your sensitive bud over and over.

For a man who doesn’t do one night stands very often, he definitely knows his way around a pussy.

“Shit,” you moan, louder this time, your muscles tightening more and more-

You’re not used to men behaving this way with you, worshiping your body and putting your pleasure first. To have two back to back orgasms before he’s even taken anything for himself? Unheard of.

You can tell he wants you to cum, can tell that he’s eager for it, and the wet licks of his tongue against your sensitive pussy are ensuring that his preferred outcome happens sooner rather than later.

You give in to the feeling, deciding to relinquish control. If he wants to make you cum fast, then you can cum fast, and all of your attention moves to the feeling of pleasure that’s radiating out from your core.

Your abdominal muscles are tightening deliciously, and you begin to buck your hips a little, trying to ride his tongue while you hold him tight to your pussy by his hair.

Johnny groans again and the vibration of it sends a shiver of delight through your entire body.

“Fuck, I’m gonna-” You swallow thickly, brows furrowing with effort as you latch onto that feeling of euphoria, unwilling to let it drift away- “just like that, just like that-”

He sucks lewdly on your clit, flicking it with his tongue, and that’s all you need to explode, your pussy clamping down hard on nothing, squeezing and squelching sinfully. 

You’re gasping loudly, moaning like a whore as your orgasm washes over you in waves- and like your first high, Johnny is just as unrelenting with this one.

He doesn’t pull away, and with so much attention focused on your throbbing clit, it’s almost too much for you to handle.

You begin to push at Johnny’s head, but he’s like a brick wall, unmoving and diligent in his task.

“Oh my god-” your voice is raising with effort, raising with the euphoria that’s threatening to overwhelm you completely. “Johnny- too much-”

This time, he allows you to push him away, and you sink back down against the countertop, chest heaving with effort. Your legs twitch with aftershocks from your orgasm, and you can’t even bring yourself to open your eyes yet, still lost in the ecstasy he’d just provided.

“You okay, princess?” Johnny asks, and you can sense him rising to his feet, his eyes inspecting you.

“Overstimulated,” you admit, another shock washing through you and making you jolt.

“I got side tracked,” Johnny admits, and you peer out at him from under hooded lids to see him sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s okay, it was just a lot,” you assure him, reaching out to gently stroke his forearm. 

“Come on,” Johnny coaxes, lifting you off the sink so he can carry you to his room, “let’s give you a breather.”

He lays you gently onto his mattress, moving the blankets so you can get under the warm duvet.

The sheets smell like him, a manly pine scent, and it makes you groan, burying your face against the pillows while your brain tries to reaclimatize after a mind shattering orgasm.

Johnny joins you, and you instinctively cuddle close to his chest, delighted by the way his large arms wrap around you to hold you close.

“Just give me a sec,” you whisper, but even as the words leave your lips, your hand snakes down to his cock, and you gently wrap your fingers around the thick length.

Johnny chuckles. “Part of me thought you’d be too tired to actually fuck now.”

“Never,” you tell him, although you’re so exhausted from two extreme orgasms that there’s little conviction in the tone of your voice. 

“Take your time,” Johnny assures you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head while you languidly stroke his large cock. Unlike in the shower, however, there’s no lubrication of any kind, and soon, you tire of it.

“Okay,” you tell him, sitting up, “I can ride you.”

“Are you sure you want to be on top?” he blinks in shock. 

“Just to start, just to get used to your size,” you assure him.

“Whatever you want, princess.”

You swing your leg over Johnny’s hips, straddling him, and his hands find your waist. 

“Actually, let me grab some lube,” he says, sitting up abruptly. The muscles in his abdomen ripple under the skin, and you’re taken aback by just how beautiful this man is even as he’s reaching for his bedside table.

He pulls out a green bottle, squirting some of the gell into his palm before he grabs his cock.

You kind of love the view of his large hand on his massive cock, stroking up and down-

“Like what you see?” he laughs.

“You’re just so perfect,” you muse.

“That makes two of us I guess,” Johnny grins. “Okay, whenever you’re ready.”

He’s all lathered up now, and you grab the base of his cock, guiding yourself down on the tip. 

As you sink down even an inch, you groan at the stretch.

He’s covered in lube, and you’re definitely more than lubricated from two orgasms, but fuck- having not had sex in ages only to take the biggest cock of your life is definitely an adjustment for your tight pussy.

“Take it slow,” he assures you, tightening his grip on your hips to keep you steady as you gently sink down further on his cock.

“I’m good, you’re just so big,” you whimper.

Johnny only chuckles at your words, his eyes fixed on the meeting of your bodies.

“Not sure I can take it all like this,” you admit.

“I’ve heard that when a girl is on top, things feel deeper,” Johnny muses. “Don’t feel like you have to take it all right now, we can work up to that.”

“Okay,” you nod, “I’m going to bounce a bit.”

“Works for me, princess.”

You close your eyes, leaning over him and placing your hands firmly on his chest as an anchor as you begin to move up and down. The feeling of his massive cock against your inner walls has your body singing with pleasure already, and you begin to moan.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, his fingers digging into your hips. “Feels good.”

“So good,” you agree with another whimper.

One of Johnny’s hands moves from your hip to your breast, and he begins to massage the sensitive flesh as you ride him gently. The sensation of him tweaking your nipple has you groaning, your pussy clenching incredibly tight around him, which makes both of you cry out desperately.

“Fuck, let me know when you want me to take over,” Johnny tells you, and you get the sense that you might be killing him a little with the slowness of your pace. His hips twitch, and you suspect that he’s doing everything in his power not to madly thrust up into you, which is something you appreciate greatly.

You ride him for a little while longer, and then you give up, legs burning with effort already. “Okay, okay, you can top now.”

You pull off of his cock, and Johnny helps you roll down onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress.

Instead of just getting on top of you, however, he stays on his side and leans over you, pressing his lips to yours while his hand continues to massage your breast.

You groan against his lips, threading your fingers through his hair desperately as his tongue invades your mouth.

He kisses you until you’re breathless, until your pussy is pulsing with desire, only then does he get between your legs, bringing the head of his cock to your awaiting hole.

“If you ever need me to slow down, or be less rough, or anything, just let me know,” he tells you, swallowing thickly as he gazes at your body.

“Just do it, Johnny,” you assure him, stroking his forearm. “Please.”

You watch his adam’s apple bob with effort again, and he slowly pushes the head of his cock into your wet hole, making you cry out. You grip his arm tighter, closing your eyes to enjoy the stretching sensation.

He sinks into you, inch by inch, gently thrusting to get you used to the intrusion.

When he’s almost fully inside of you, Johnny leans over your body, his elbows making contact with the bed on either side of your head so he can be in something of a plank position overtop of you.

You can feel his breath on your face, and you open your eyes to look up at him, your hand moving to cup his cheek while your legs wrap loosely around his waist.

“You can fuck me now,” you tease, grinning at how slow and gentle he’s been up until this point. “Please.” 

Johnny presses his lips to yours, and just like that, he begins to move.

Each thrust is unbound pleasure, his hips moving fluidly as he gradually increases his pace. His long cock hits deep spots inside of you that have you crying out, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders while your tongues battle for dominance in the most heated kiss of your life.

He’s moaning too, and it sounds so good- making your pussy even wetter as he decimates it perfectly.

You love the feeling of his large body pressing down against your own, his hard muscles are delightful under your touch when you skim your hand along his shoulders.

He’s steadily increasing the power behind each thrust, and now, the bed is beginning to rock with his movements, delighting you even more.

How can this man have so much raw power, but still be so gentle and careful when it matters most?

You might be a little obsessed with him, but as his massive cock hits your g-spot, you suppose it’s no wonder your feelings are growing at a rapid pace.

He has you cock drunk, in a way that you’ve never experienced in the entirety of your life, and you kind of love it.

“Shit,” Johnny cusses, breaking your kiss so he can press his mouth to your throat. “I never- never asked about protection.”

“I’m covered,” you assure him.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing thickly. “You can cum inside me.”

A deep groan escapes Johnny, and it vibrates through where your chests are pressed together.

“Don’t want to cum like this,” Johnny tells you, “it’s too soon.”

He pulls away, and you whimper when his cock leaves your wet hole. But then Johnny is manhandling you into doggy position, and you let out a moan of pleasure, arching your back and resting your head against the bed.

“You look good like this too,” Johnny muses as he pushes his cock back into you, his hands grabbing your hips roughly. “Always look so good.”

His praise is doing something to you, encouraging you enough to make you begin to move as well, doing your best to match his pace and push back against him with each thrust.

The sound of skin on skin fills the room, and your moans mingle in the air together.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, railing into you even harder. “So fucking tight-”

“I’m close,” you assure him, “just let me-” you slip your hand between your thighs, fingers seeking out your sensitive clit. The moment you make contact, you feel your pussy contract around Johnny’s cock, and it makes you both moan loudly.

“Yeah, want you to cum with me,” Johnny tells you. “Want us to cum together.”

You don’t respond, too focused on your task as you begin to draw small circles around the sensitive bud.

God, nothing has ever felt this good, to be so completely full, while your clit is receiving attention at the same time-

The tension is quickly building in the pit of your stomach, and it’s clear to both of you that you’re rapidly approaching the edge-

“Here,” Johnny’s voice distracts you, and all of the sudden he’s hauling you onto your knees, pinning your back to his chest with an arm braced across your breasts, one hand cupping your boob like a seatbelt. You can feel his breath on your throat, and you quickly turn your head, seeking out his lips with your own.

His free hand pushes yours aside from your clit, applying even more pressure to your sensitive bud as he fucks into you erratically.

God, you feel him absolutely everywhere. You feel like a doll, suspended in time and space while this absolute unit of a man gives you all of the pleasure you could ever ask for, pulling at your strings like an expert.

He’s groaning more deeply- and with one more rough circle of your clit, you feel yourself come undone. You gasp against his lips, core clamping down on his cock-

A strangled sound escapes Johnny, his thrusts becoming even more erratic as he cums with you, coating your throbbing insides with his cum as you both fall off the edge together.

He’s clinging to you in a way a man has never clung to you, and you’re kissing him as if he’s the air you need to breathe. In this moment, it’s only you and him and this feeling of euphoria that you never want to give up.

He fucks you through your high until you’re both a panting mess, and then, he helps you back onto the bed, taking a deep breath.

“I’m going to go get some tissues,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You can only moan happily, inhaling the scent of pine as you cuddle against his pillow.

Johnny returns shortly, and he hands you some tissues to wipe his cum from your core.

“Should we take another shower or something?” Johnny asks, laughing a little at how messy you both are.

“Cuddles first,” you tell him.

Johnny grins, joining you on his bed, his strong arms immediately wrapping around you. “Cuddles first,” he agrees.

You both take deep breaths, and as your body begins to calm down while pressed against his, you know you made the right choice of man in this fucked up, love island-esque apartment complex that you now call home.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! This was way longer than I intended, which is why it took a minute to be posted, but I hope it was worth the wait!

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🔮 preview.  In the summer, Johnny’s not just a blue collar rig man, he’s a dude with friends, tanned skin from his obsession with the sun, and a taste for margaritas while sitting on boats between water skiing stints.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, use of toys, vibrator, nipple clamps, overstimulation, breast worship, use of lube, inklings of pain kink, hand job, fingering, multiple reader orgasms, etc…   I petnames. (hers) princess

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.8k I teaser wc. 100

🌙 starring. Johnny x afab!Reader

bonus

People sometimes talk about a specific summer in their life being ‘the summer of dreams,’ and you never quite understood what could make one stretch of months so significant- but now, living life with Johnny by your side every day, it makes total sense.

In the few months you’ve been dating, he’s done his best to introduce you to friends, but with such a short time in town, it was always difficult to juggle friends, family, and your growing relationship.

Now that it’s summer, you get to see how Johnny is when he’s just being himself.

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.8k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

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[ofstarsandvibranium]

Start A New

Fandom: The Pitt

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x F!Reader

Summary: In a tragic car accident, Jack loses his wife, who was your best friend, and you lose your husband, the father of your child. Now both of you navigate life together and co-parenting your daughter, Evelyn, while also trying to figure out your feelings for each other.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who loved the first part! Now here's that happy ending you all wanted...

Undeserving (aka Part 1) | The Pitt Masterlist

Jack tried to get some rest. He really tried, but he kept going over his argument with you. Did you really not see how much he loves you and Evie? Do you really not know how heartbroken he'd be if you left?

He sighs and checks the time on his bedside. It's almost noon and Evie usually takes a nap around this time. It might be a good time for him to talk to you again so Evie doesn't see if things get heated.

He kicks off his blankets and drags himself out of bed. He exits his room and heads to the kitchen. You're there again, looking at your laptop. He hopes you're not looking at apartments again, but it's likely.

"Can we talk?"

"You should be sleeping."

"I can't. My mind is going all over the place," he takes up the empty chair beside you. He glances at your screen and, sure enough, you were looking at apartments.

He rests his arms on the dining table, "Please, don't leave," he says in a broken, pleading tone.

You fully face him, "Jack, I love you. I really do, but...I feel bad. You were my Anna's husband. She was my best friend. The one she was supposed to grow old with. I feel guilty that she's not here, that you and her never got to have kids and grow old together. I feel bad for practically replacing her."

"You're not-"

You hold your hand out, "Let me get everything out...please."

He nods, "Okay."

You take a deep breath, "I feel guilty for being here when she couldn't be. I also feel guilty for loving you when it should be Andrew here helping me raise Evie. I feel guilty for taking up your space, your time. I-I feel like I don't deserve you. You're such a good, loving, caring man and I shouldn't be taking over your life the way that I've been these past few years.

"That's why I want to move out. But also, my therapist think it'd be good for us to live separately. We've become too dependent on each other because we lost our partners in the same accident. We need space in order for us to have a healthy relationship. And I really hope you understand that."

He gulps and nods, "I get it...but fuck, sweetheart. You and Evie are the first and last thing I think about when I wake up and go to sleep. I'm gonna be honest, it's gonna fucking suck not having you two around all the time."

You reach out and place your hand on top of his, "Again, this isn't happening any time soon. I still have to find a place."

"Have you looked at places nearby?"

You nod, "Yeah. I don't wanna be too far from you."

That brings a small smile to Jack's face, "That's something at least," he murmurs. He leans in and presses his lips to your head, "I love you so much, sweetheart." He turns his hand up and laces his fingers with you.

"I love you too," you whisper. You lean back to look at him, "We'll get through it." you cup his face with your free hand, your thumb grazing over his five o'clock shadow, "We've gotten through worse."

He chuckles and shakes his head, "Yeah...we have."

_____________________________

In the upcoming months, you continued to apartment hunt. Jack would accompany you to provide input. You looked at various apartment complexes within two to five miles away from Jack's home.

You eventually found a place just three blocks away from him and much closer to the park the three of you frequented.

Leaving Jack was hard, but you knew it would be good for you two. Evie took it hard, obviously. She didn't want to leave her Uncle Jack Jack and her cries brought tears to your own eyes.

Jack held Evelyn close as he explained everything, "You'll still see me, honey. I'm not going anywhere. We'll still go to the park together and have family time. I'm not leaving you, baby. I promise," he holds her tighter and you see tears welling up in his eyes as Evelyn sobs, "I promise, Evie. I'll always be here for you and mommy."

When move in day came, Jack helped you as much as he could. When he was at work, some of the day shift nurses and doctors came to help you.

Robby grunted as he set a box down, "So...I heard you two confessed your love."

You rolled your eyes, "Yes. We did."

"You know, usually when people love each other like you do, they move in together. Not move out."

"We need the space and more independence. We did everything backwards, Robby." You explained as you begin to unbox the box he brought in.

"I know. But don't tell Abbot I told you this, but he's been really anxious about this. He doesn't know what he's going to do without you girls."

"We'll figure it out eventually. We've spent a majority of these past few years always at each other's sides and we weren't even officially together. It's going to be a big change, but we can get through it. After everything we've gone through, especially Jack, I think we'll make it out okay."

The doctor nodded, "I hope so 'cause now his bitchin' is even more sad and depressing."

You giggled and shoved his shoulder, "Get back to work, doc."

He salutes you, "Yes, ma'am!"

_________________________

Three months living in the apartment with just you and Evelyn was a rough start. Evie was constantly asking for her Uncle Jack Jack and you had to explain that you couldn't go to his house every single day.

Eventually, she got used to it being just you and her. Some nights did feel lonelier than ever. You had to fight yourself on not inviting Jack all the time. But so far, he'd been coming over once a week and you've been going to his the same as well.

It was an adjustment for sure, but you three of you eventually used to it.

Any downtime he had during his shifts, Jack would call you, wanting to hear your voice or see Evie via video chat. You thought things would be tense for a long time between you and he. But, thankfully, it was only tense for the first month and you two fell back into how things were before. You'd joke around, share about your days, but now it's coupled with some flirtatious banter.

It was weird in the beginning, hearing him flirt with you and you flirt back. But now it's second nature with you two. Your flirtatious banter would be silly or cute or downright sinful, but only when Evie wasn't around.

Jack: what're you wearing?

You snort when you read his text. You text him back:

You: aren't you supposed to be working?

Jack: was thinking about you and I'm on my lunch....so what're you wearing?

You take a selfie of you wearing one of his old Army shirts and reply to him with that.

Your phone suddenly starts ringing and you laugh, answering it, "There's no way I'm having phone sex with you while you're at work."

"Well can I come over after my shift and we can have real sex?"

You clasp your hand over your mouth to muffle your laugh. You look beside you to see Evie still passed out after you two started watching a movie.

"Won't you be exhausted?"

"I'm wound up today and sex is a great relaxer." You can hear the smirk in his tone.

"Yeah? Says who?"

"Me, I'm a doctor, remember?"

"Last time I checked, you're a doctor in medicine. Not sexology."

He hums, "Fine. You caught me...I just miss you."

You soften your voice, "I miss you too. I miss you a lot but...this time apart has been good for me."

"I know, but don't get too comfortable. Once your lease is up, you're moving back here. Got that?"

You chuckle, "Are you sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure. I want us to be whole again. It's so fucking quiet in the house now. Fuck, the other day, I had Bluey playing in the background just so it feels like you two are around still."

That tugs on your heartstrings, "Jack-"

"Shit. I gotta go. They need extra help and we're already down a doctor. I gotta go sweetheart and I'll talk to you later, okay? I love you."

"I love you too, Jack. Bye." He ends the call and you lay back in bed. You bury your face into his shirt, wishing it smelled like him again.

_____________________________

It felt like deja vu. You're at the park, sitting on the picnic blanket with Dana like you had all those months ago. Jack and Evie are playing on the playground like they always are.

Dana, feeling the same sense as you goes, "Funny to be here with you guys again but now you and Jack are together. Separate, but also together."

You nod, "I know. Weird, right?"

"That was a rough patch you guys went through, but look at you now. You two have gone through a lot and keep overcoming it. Shows how strong the two of you are," Dana lifts her bottle of water as if giving you a cheers and sips from it.

You smile at the older woman, "Thanks. None of what the both of us have gone through was easy, but we did it together. Loving him is easy. I still feel sad and guilty sometimes. For Anna. For Andrew."

"They would've wanted you two to be happy," Dana says with confidence.

"I know, still doesn't mean I don't feel bad about it sometimes." You sigh, "Therapy has helped a lot though."

"That's good, honey. Really good."

"Sweetheart!" you look up and see Jack looking your way, "You want ice cream?"

"Rainbow pop please!" You glance at Dana, "You wany anything?"

"I'm good."

"Just one for me, baby!"

"Got it!" he gives you a thumbs up and guides Evie to the ice cream truck.

Dana wistfully sighs, "You guys are so fucking cute. I really am happy you two are together."

"Thanks, Dana. I am too."

______________________________

Three Years Later

Evie was at a sleepover at her friend's apartment in the same complex. So that meant you and Jack had the place to yourselves since Jack was off that day.

After a few rounds of sex, you two were just cuddling in your bed. Your head is resting on his chest, his arm wrapped around you and tracing lines along your back.

You two were laying in a blissful silence when Jack slid out of bed, "Where you going?"

"I wanna grab something from my pants," he grabs his jeans from the floor and found what he was looking for in his pocket.

He sits back in bed and presents you with a tiny box. You immediately sit up and look at him with wide eyes, "Jack..."

"Sweetheart, you already know how much I love you. There aren't really words that I can say that you haven't heard before. I love you and Evie so much. We've gone through hell and back. Our lives have been intertwined since that night. I didn't expect to fall in love with you, but I did. I didn't expect to love Evie as much as I do.

"I love the life we've built together, even though the start of it was unconventional and, frankly, extremely traumatizing-"

You snort, "What a way to propose, baby."

"Well I didn't necessarily say the words yet, did I?"

He opens the box to reveal a gorgeous ring. The cut was perfect and it was a ring you definitely see yourself wearing forever, "Y/N, will you marry me?"

"Of fucking course I will," you press your lips to his and you feel him smiling into the kiss, "I love you," you mumble against his lips.

He breaks the kiss, grinning, "I love you too," he takes the ring out of the box and slips it onto your finger.

You look at how it sits on your finger. You didn't think you'd be wearing another wedding ring again, yet here you are.

You giggle and Jack looks at you, "What's so funny?"

"I can't believe you proposed with your dick out and made a comment about our shared trauma."

He shrugs, "Well isn't our entire relationship built on unconventional and traumatic events?"

You roll your eyes and climb onto Jack's lap, "Shut up and make love to your fiancee."

He smiles wide, "No need to tell me twice."

_____________________

"DID HE DO IT?! DID HE ASK YOU TO MARRY HIM?!" Evie asks as into the apartment after her sleepover. Jack follows her inside, chuckling.

You hold up your left hand, "He did, baby!"

"YAY!" Evie wraps her arms around you and then gasps. She turns to Jack, "Can I call you dad now?!"

Jack looks at you. You two have talked about it before. You're okay with Evie calling Jack her dad. He practically is.

He softly smiles at the six year old, "Yeah, honey. You can call me dad." Evie launches herself at Jack and he catches her. He hugs her tight.

It's funny. You and Jack thought you were undeserving of each other, but turns out, you were just what the other needed this whole time.

[greenfiend]

Most of Stranger Things is within Will’s head…

Including El, the Mind Flayer, Vecna, and more characters...

A lot of people aren't going to like this or agree but- if you are willing to read this at risk that you won't like it... try to keep an open mind and keep that curiosity door open.

(Above is a direct cut from Will to this line...)

I just want to begin by saying: I believe Will is the center of this show. I know many disagree, and place other characters at the center but let me explain to you why I believe the show is mainly about him.

The show begins with Will, as his disappearance is the catalyst for every single event to follow.

If you take a step back, and look at the show as a whole… making Will the center makes the most narrative sense. Without Will… there is no Stranger Things.

(GIF from @/kaypeace21's post here)

Lonnie hammering a nail into the wall while we cut to Mike poking a hole into a piece of paper visually tells a lot. Remember guys, this show is all about showing and not telling. Here they are showing us that the abuse Lonnie has inflicted unto Will caused the gate to open. The Upside Down exists due to Will's trauma. This is because the Upside Down is Will's mindscape.

DID and Internal Worlds

Will has experienced trauma far more severe than we are explicitly told. His trauma mainly leads back to his father. If you are prepared to read about the depths of said trauma, read this post. Not for the faint of heart though, my friends.

In Will's case, his trauma as led to a specific rare mental health condition called: Dissociative Identity Disorder.

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is a mental health condition where you have two or more separate personalities that control your behavior at different times. When personalities switch, you’ll have gaps in your memory. The identities are usually caused by living through trauma. x

This means I believe that many of the characters we know and love were created from Will's mind. There are common alter roles within a DID system, and this show has been assigning different characters to some of these roles this whole time.

Now, this is NOT a new theory. The creator of this theory is kaypeace21 (one of the original Byler theorists!) Check out her posts here and here. While I agree with a lot of what she has to say, I do not know if I agree with all of it... specifically: the Persecutor Alter... more on that soon (not to fault her at all! As Vecna did not even exist prior to ST4).

Let's go back to the Upside Down being Will's mindscape:

Many individuals with dissociative identity disorder (DID) have an internal world in which they or their alters can manifest as themselves and interact. These internal worlds, which are also known as inner worlds or headspaces, can range in size and complexity. x

The Upside Down = Will's internal world. Those that inhabit that world or arose from said world are likely Will's alters. Yes, that includes El, the Mind Flayer, Demogorgons, etc. and of course: Vecna.

Here's another visual clue! A hole in the wall (an opened gate...) at the Byers' house that may have "always been [there]".

I know we are told the gate had opened prior to Nov 6, 1983, and that El had been the one to open that door/gate. But... that's because El herself is Will. She is a personality that had developed from him.

Now, lets talk common DID alter roles and how some of our favourite characters fill these roles to a tee.

El, the Gatekeeper Alter

I talk about the Willel theory here but I'll explain it briefly. El is "the gatekeeper", she is the one who Will lets "front" most of the time. Because remember guys... Will "likes to hide".

El was even compared to D’art (who came from Will…) see post here.

Also worth noting: Will's abduction in the shed is compared to... the first atomic bomb (used in an act of war) called "Little Boy". Post about that comparison here. What occurs during a nuclear reaction? Nuclear fission. Fission meaning: SPLITTING INTO TWO! Just as we see with the Phineus Gage comparison. That exact moment was when "El" emerged from the UD (Will's mindscape) into "reality". Leading to her becoming... a literal gatekeeper for Will.

She also helps solve Will's dilemma of to stay or to go, as Will himself stays (in the UD) and El goes.

So... what do I mean by “the gatekeeper"?

A gatekeeper is an alter that controls switching or access to front, access to an internal world or certain areas within it, or access to certain alters or memories. x

Now. Remember guys, we literally see her closing the gate and she (allegedly) was the first to open said gate. She also is heavily associated with repressed memories (the whole NINA plot...)

El has always been protecting Will from facing his trauma and facing himself. That is why we see her "save" him multiple times, why she takes on the role of Mike's romantic partner, why she takes the brunt of the bullies at Lenora, and why Will looks on like a helpless bystander... It is not due to resentment nor cruelty but fear. Will has been hiding behind her this whole time. He is not ready to face his memories, trauma, and the world. Not yet...

The Mind Flayer, the Demon Alter

In abusive groups, a young child can be severely traumatized in order for abusers to intentionally create an alter, and the alter can be tricked into believing they have been possessed by, and have become, a demon. X

This one is pretty self-explanatory, as we literal have a "possession" plot line involving Will. Though, instead of being "possessed", this alter of Will's was fronting.

Vecna, the Persecutor Alter

This is the one I'm most excited (and nervous) to talk about because it is SO fascinating and it matches his character perfectly.

So basically, Vecna is NOT Henry Creel. Vecna is an alter of Will's existing in his hive mind. Hear me out about this.

What I believe is that Henry Creel (or perhaps Edward Creel), was a real person that Will had heard about resulting in him creating an alter based on him. This is called "Factive Introject":

An alter with the form, personality, and possibly the psychological backstory e.g. memories of an outer-world person, whether a relative, a celebrity, or even an acquaintance. x

I believe that when we see "Henry" within both the Rainbow Room AND the Upside Down... this is Will's alter. (The Rainbow Room is likely another inner world of Will's...).

Are you still with me on this? Because lets get into the real evidence here.

What is a persecutor alter?

Persecutors are alters that purposefully harm the body, system, host, core, or other alters, sabotage the system’s goals or healing, or work to assist the system’s abuser(s). x

I know that sounds pretty scary, and some easily dismiss persecutor alters as "evil" BUT they are not. Viewing any alters this way is harmful. All alters' goals are to protect the system, even if they may do so in misguided ways.

x

Most persecutor alters start out as protector alters… which exactly what we see in the show! “Henry” is kind and protective towards El (who is another alter).

Then he decides to “kill” the other kids/alters (I say kill but they will still live on in the mind.)

Lets look at the exact terms used to describe the effects the persecutor alter has on the system...

X

Headaches…

Internal bullying…

Increased blank spells…

Interference with function…

Self-multilation…

Still have doubts on this? Let’s continue…

x

As I said, the persecutor alter is not "evil", it is a misguided protector. Its goal is to protect and often does this by taking on all the suffering experienced by the host and the alters...

But why? Why does the persecutor alter do such things if the goal is to protect?

X

To prevent the host and alters from disclosing their abuse. Think about this for a moment. What did Chrissy, Fred, Patrick, and Max all have in common (other than trauma)? They all were seeing the student counsellor Ms. Kelley and revealing to her aspects of their trauma and abuse.

Vecna, as the persecutor alter, was having NONE of that and thus… “killed” them to protect the system. As he feared the consequences for Will/the system as a whole.

This is VERY telling for Will, because he has long been afraid of opening up about his abuse, trauma, and everything…

We see this emerge in many forms:

The Byers phone frequently going unanswered throughout the show due to Will’s fear of opening up/communication.

Lonnie telling Jonathan to keep his mouth shut for his mom’s sake…

The rats in ST3. To “rat” = to snitch.

El’s bullying in ST4. Angela repeatedly refers to her as a “snitch” even though she never did snitch.

Papa/the Demogorgon/Neil, the Abuser Alter

x I’m going to go right out and say this: “Papa” represents Will's abuser. We see him abuse El, Henry and others in a manner similar to what Will had experienced with Lonnie.

That’s why he’s called “Papa”, as he is a representation of the abusive papa of Will: Lonnie Byers.

Like Henry Creel, he is also likely based off a real person... Richard Brenner perhaps?

"That's what I have to do to keep her close to me. I don't want her going out. Men only want her for one thing and then they hurt her. She doesn't need anyone else but me." In addition to intimidating her so that she would not seek contact with men and risk further abuse, [the abuser alter] was also possessively trying to strengthen her attachment to him. X

This perfectly applies to Brenner's relationship with El, Henry and the others. He wants to isolate them to "protect" them from further abuse. We see this clearly as Brenner prevents El from leaving NINA, at all costs.

Again, even the alter representing the abuser should not be seen as “evil”. It’s complicated. All alters are aspect of the host, they are not evil. There are good intentions behind the bad actions.

Other Alters…

So, I believe other characters are also alters of Will’s such as:

Max, Billy, Chrissy, Fred, Patrick, Eddie, Argyle… and more. This post is getting far too long for me to expand on that just yet though.

Mike is “The Key” but… he’s not the only key

Let’s not forget about Ms Kelley and her key necklace!

Although Mike’s love will be an incredibly important aspect to saving Hawkins and saving Will… Will also needs to open up, face his trauma, and reveal his truth. Keeping all of this bottled up inside is causing far more problems…

When it comes to treatment for DID, there are different methods. Some include:

Identifying and working through past trauma.

Managing sudden behavioral changes.

Merging separate identities into a single identity. x

The latter being a highly controversial one, and it may not be the right choice for everyone with DID.

Within the show however? We will likely see merging or fusion of some of the characters in the end (we likely already have too...)

We already have foreshadowing of fusion between Will and El:

Robin and Steve discussing the act of "combining" to "solve all [their] problems".

Dustin hugging El and Will only to have El visually disappear during their hug.

El ending the season standing alone in the Upside Down.

In DID there's also a concept called integration, which may not be as extreme as fusion.

The individual must then make the choice of to what extent they want to integrate their alters as part of their healing. Again, some degree of integration is inevitable. The individual must integrate traumatic materials in order to heal from PTSD. As well, enough integration between alters must occur to allow for easy communication, a lack of dissociative amnesia between parts, and a consistent sense of being grounded in the present and in the body. The individual must be able to take responsibility for all of the system's actions, and all alters in the system should work together towards the same goals. x

Basically, Will must become insightful of his condition and see all aspects of himself (all alters) as helpful (even if they may be misguided). It will NOT help him to simply "kill" any alters, that will not work. He must accept himself for who he is. He must learn to love all aspects of himself.

I won’t touch on it here, but I will just mention that I’m very confident the show will end with another realm/internal world that’s beautiful and full of life. Implying that Will has finally found some peace of mind. I talk about it in this post.

[sshiostwordblog]

That's not stupid at all omg!! I'd definitely read it :D I think oc x canon and yumeshipping is awesome and people should do it more tbh

SOBS TYSM you're so kind (I ended up writing the fic but it's quite long. Feel free to skip for anyone who's not interested in reading), I just hope it's at least slightly entertaining to read. Here you go (It's my second time writing a fanfic and English is not my first language so... I'd love some feedback if anyone is willing to read.)

『 ೈ𝘈 𝘕𝘦𝘸, 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 ♡』 

Lee: Albedo Ler: (OC) Shiro Tickle fic summary: Albedo gets strangely accustomed to this new, sweet individual who came to Mondstadt. The issue is… this new friend is a little too eager. Word count: 2773 words

Nights in Dragonspine were undoubtedly cold, the soft breeze of the wind was a common sound to hear within the snowy mountain. At times like these, Albedo was used to dealing with nothing more than his sole presence along with the slight feeling of the cold air hitting his skin. Things changed for him not too long ago, when they hired a newly arrived guy to take a role inside the range of the Knights of Favonius. At first, Albedo paid no mind to him. He was reserved and very dedicated to his work, after all. When you’ve got a large number of mysteries to uncover and turn even the smallest of observations into a wonder, it’s certainly difficult to preoccupy yourself with the people around you. But this tall Anemo user, Shiro, who arrived recently and now worked as an artist for illustrations, had seemed to take an interest in the alchemist from the very first moment he laid eyes on him.

At first, it was one conversation. The blond indulged in a small interaction about their occupations, nothing relevant. He learned that the taller male apparently came from Inazuma. Art piqued Albedo’s interest as a topic, obviously, and soon he found himself getting slightly more invested in getting to know his new co-worker.

A conversation turned into two, strangers turned into acquaintances and soon enough Shiro was looking for excuses to spend time with the alchemist in his free time.

“Could I accompany you today?” he would eagerly ask, looking into Albedo’s eyes with that warm smile of his. “Can you tell me more about that?” he poked at Albedo’s knowledgeable nature another day, pushing him to explain further. Shiro would take no for an answer, of course, but he would also eventually trick his way into getting a yes and spending more and more time with Albedo to the point it was nothing short of exasperating, if not a little endearing.

 He would insist in helping Albedo with research and studies, sticking around for the most complex things even if he had little to no comprehension about the subject. The difference in knowledge was laughable, clearly. Shiro would often know nothing about the complexity of Albedo’s researches. He was much simpler. Emotionally and psychologically intelligent, yes, but when it comes to Albedo’s level of smarts…

“Shiro, could you please pass me the Starsilver shards?” Albedo’s calm voice had requested in this current day after months of interaction, said brunet being next to him and carefully trying to recognize the materials the alchemist needed for his experiment.

Here they were, already more than acquaintances. How did Shiro get this far?

He turned around to meet the blonde’s eyes with a hint of uncertainty in his own, smiling sheepishly at him.

“Here…?” Shiro handed him something, yes, but needless to say… it’s not what Albedo had been asking for. Again, he couldn’t blame the brunet. This material he requested only grew in Dragonspine and Shiro was still not entirely used to Mondstadt. Perhaps he forgot. A fond chuckle escaped the blond, shaking his head in disbelief. He should feel bothered about being slowed down like this; with Shiro around, his work was ten times slower. And yet… he couldn’t bring himself to care much. Shiro had grown on him by this point, him and his eager self. He was genuine and transparent, but not energetic to the point of being tiring. Shiro was calm most of the time and a good listener. Comforting.

Still… he wasn’t as good of an assistant as sucrose. The brunet was clearly not assistant material. Not for complex things like these at least.

“Maybe I should just… get it myself.” Albedo tried to say, before meeting Shiro’s look of disappointment and biting back a small huff of laughter. He would’ve felt bothered months ago, but not anymore. He was slowly getting used to the brunet’s presence, even If he initially had trouble with maintaining relationships and connections. “Hold on, I can get it, I swear.” The brunet claimed, before rushing to grab another thing that ended up being the requested ore.

When Shiro showed the material and saw the smile of approval in the blonde’s face, his eyes lit up just like a puppy getting a treat. There was something about Albedo he just adored from the start. Time passed by as he observed how the alchemist worked; asking him about things and hearing him explain in detail about the subjects he found so interesting. Shiro didn’t understand a single bit, but he found himself quietly listening with a smile on his face.

He would perk up every time Albedo asked for his help, and there was nothing different this time. “Shiro?” Albedo called out, turning to look at him in the midst of his work. “I need you to use your Anemo vision on this for a second? Just focus on deviating the elemental energy here,” he pointed at the setup that was in front of him, clearly a mix of substances.

The brunet would be asked to do these kinds of things from time to time, it was nothing new. Albedo had his back turned on him, too focused on the items on the table in front of him to look behind. He already knew Shiro was there, so why bother.

The catalyst approached from behind and lifted his hand to reach over Albedo’s shoulder to do as requested, his hand already accumulating elemental energy.

A soft noise stopped him, however.

It sounded like a gasp coming from Albedo, who had flinched slightly. Did his soft whirl of Anemo hit Albedo by accident? Did he hurt him?

He pulled his hand back, tilting his head to the side with a hint of worry in his eyes. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten my hand so close…”

“Ah— no, it’s fine.” Albedo interrupted, sooner than he would’ve liked. “It just brushed my ear and- um…”

All Shiro did lately was paying attention to Albedo, it took him less than a second to notice the faint, precious blush decorating the alchemist’s cheeks. It was an endearing sight… but also confusing.

Why would the calm and collected Mr. Albedo be blushing?

“…It just tickled briefly, that’s all. We can continue.” Albedo picked his words back up, clearing his throat and attempting to be professional about it, turning to look back at his work and avoiding the brunet’s look of realization.

Albedo wasn’t one to pause or hesitate often. He was swift and calculating. He had hesitated just now, because… Shiro was just so eager about getting to know him and pay attention to him. There’s a big, fat chance he would…

“Ticklish?” Shiro repeated, making Albedo’s blush grow the slightest bit, trying to cover it up with a small cough. He would’ve been professional about this with anyone else, but after getting to know this sweet, persistent brunet he knew Shiro would hyperfocus on that small piece of info.

Albedo had to regain his composure before the other got any ideas. “Yes, it is a… rather normal response within the body’s nervous system to touch. Why do you sound so surprised?” The alchemist tried to say, even though he knew that look on Shiro’s face. It was already making his stomach feel all fluttery.

Before meeting Shiro, these things wouldn’t happen. He would’ve been by himself, working peacefully without these silly interruptions.

“You? Ticklish? That’s… adorable.”

Being praised from time to time however… he couldn’t say he minded all that much.

Albedo left out a shaky sigh, bringing a hand up to rub his temple. “It never fails to amaze me, you’re the only person who can say those things to me so casually…” “And you could tell me to stop it, but you never do.” Shiro pointed out, before he felt a knowing smile grow on his face the moment he noticed Albedo looking away. “I’m surprised you’re focusing on that instead of your work.”

The blond shook his head dismissively and decided to continue. Distractions like these were unacceptable within his working ethics. He reached for Shiro’s hand and did the requested process to continue his experiment, assuming the brunet would just drop the topic.

That is, until he felt another soft, tingly breeze against his ear a minute or so later, making him stop in his tracks.

It elicited the same brief reaction, making Albedo flinch and gasp quietly before covering his ear. This time, he turned to half-heartedly glare at the brunet, watching how Shiro looked away and played dumb; pretending he didn’t just use his vision again for that.

“What?” Shiro said, biting back a smile. “Is something the matter?”

He knew what he was doing.

Albedo sighed yet again for the millionth time that day. “Shiro, please...” he tried to say, hoping to reason with his… friend. They could be considered that, at this point.

The brunet looked like he had stars in his eyes from the mere prospect of Albedo being ticklish. Albedo, on the other hand, couldn’t fully grasp why… why him? Why so much attention towards him? Why did Shiro enjoy being this close to him? Doesn’t he find it boring at the very least? He had quickly taken an interest in Albedo and done nothing more than wanting to be around him apart from working.

It would usually take a little more effort to maintain a connection but with someone like this, sticking around no matter how busy Albedo can get… deep down, it was a little refreshing.

Albedo’s train of thought was quickly interrupted by another tingly breeze against his ears, this time a little more persistent.

He couldn’t help it, a sweet giggle poured out of his lips before he could stop it. “Was that a giggle just now?” Those words reached Albedo’s ears, causing them to turn red. He looked back at Shiro, but was surprised to be met with an adoring gaze instead of a teasing one.

Shiro’s smile looked like it could split his face in half from how hard he was smiling, his eyes sparkling affectionately because of the breathy giggle he just got to hear. It was too much to process, being stared at so adoringly.

Albedo looked away once again, sighing softly. “Shiro… don’t look at me like that...” A pure, loving and affectionate look. He wasn’t used to someone being so transparent about… liking him. It was so obvious.

“But I’ve never heard you laugh apart from a few chuckles! Besides, laughing is therapeutic too.” The brunet said, suddenly a bit more lively than he usually would be, leaning closer to Albedo while looking at him with those pleading eyes and silly smile. “Can I hear more? Pretty please?” Albedo opened and closed his mouth in pure, utter disbelief; trying to get some words out. Only Shiro out of all people would tell the renowned chief alchemist “Pretty please”.

“I— I don’t see how this is—” The blond tried to say, but rapidly went silent at the sight of Shiro’s puppy eyes. How does one deal with someone so eager? The second that reluctant sigh escaped Albedo’s lips, Shiro knew he had a green light to continue his little shenanigans. It was almost immediate; cold, delicate fingers fluttering around Albedo’s ears, causing him to let out a silent gasp before dissolving into giggles. He scrunched his shoulders up and tried to weakly bat at Shiro’s hands to push them away.

“Shihihiro! Pfft- Aha- S-seheriously—” Albedo tried to say, small titters slipping past his lips. This was the first time he found himself blushing this hard. “W-we- I got wohohork to dohoho—”

Shiro’s soft fingertips were persistent, sliding down and pushing through Albedo’s silky hair that felt so nice to the touch, beginning to wiggle against his neck. It was, surprisingly more sensitive than the shells of his ears.

Sweet squeaks and breathy giggles came out of the alchemist’s lips as he gave up on pushing the brunet away, instead focusing on covering his own involuntary smile instead. Why wasn’t he pushing Shiro away? He was technically stronger, smarter, could come up with strategies swiftly…

But then all of a sudden, the sensations stopped. Leftover titters were still slipping past Albedo’s lips as he tried to recover, confused by the sudden pause. He was naturally curious too, after all.

“I would stop, really,” Shiro began, resting his hands against Albedo’s shoulders from behind. You could hear the smile in his voice. “But, um… the issue is… you haven’t really told me to stop now, have you? Why are you letting me have my fun?”

Before Albedo could answer, he felt those same cold and wiggly fingers slipping under his coat and squeezing his side. He burst into another fit of breathy giggles while leaning back; his back pressed against Shiro’s chest.

“Ahahahack! Wahahahait—” Hiccups started to leak through the alchemist’s sweet laughter, feeling Shiro’s free hand wrap around his wrist, pulling Albedo’s hand away and uncovering his bright smile.

“Your laugh is… so sweet.” Of all the things Shiro could’ve said to make this feel humiliating, he just… kept praising. Was it normal to feel this warm and fluttery?... Another mystery to uncover once this nonsense is over.

Shiro kept going for a minute or so, fluttering his fingers ever-so-slightly, poking from time to time, wiggling and even blowing air against Albedo’s ears. Work was, for once, the last thing in Albedo’s mind. All he could do was melt into a puddle of giggles until Shiro finally decided to let up.

He hadn’t noticed he was this ticklish, since nobody usually attempts such a thing while near him. Only someone as refreshing and casual as Shiro would pull out a stunt like this.

He didn’t know how many minutes passed since this started, or how long did he leave his work unattended. All he knew is that by the time Shiro had stopped, his hair was all disheveled along with his flushed face.

Shiro stared at the giggling alchemist, thinking it was a lovely sight. He’d be doing these kinds of things more often, to keep Albedo from getting engrossed in work.

“Hm, I think I’m the first person that gets to see the chief Alchemist smiling like this…”

Shiro could’ve pointed out Albedo was a mess, he could’ve pointed out how unprofessional this was. All he did, however, was talk about the blonde’s smile.

Calmly and carefully, he lifted his hand and fixed Albedo’s hair making the blond gasp, before Shiro pulled away and turned his attention to Albedo’s work. So casually. As if nothing had happened at all.

Albedo was still panting slightly, covering his mouth once again while staring at the brunet dumbfounded. What… what just happened?

“Th—… um…” He tried to speak, but it was an impossible task at the moment. He was a little too disoriented to figure out what just happened, his skin still tingling with the remnants of Shiro’s playful attack.

“You’re not going to get to work?” The brunet tilted his head innocently, his sparkling eyes holding no remorse or malice. His smile so warm, so satisfied. As if he hadn’t just… just…

“…Y-yes… yes, yes. You’re right…”

Albedo cleared his throat and fixed his clothes, trying to ignore that fluttering feeling that grew even stronger when Shiro fixed his hair so casually just a few seconds earlier. The only occasions in which he engaged in physical touch were when Klee hugged him. He wasn’t used to this.

The worst part was… Albedo couldn’t figure out whether it bothered him or not. Having someone around like this, so transparent and so strangely comforting.

Maybe, just maybe… he should be slightly more permissive around Shiro next time instead of being so careful.

[tttt06]

Love Thy Neighbor

Guy please humor me and play the song. This is the funniest song, and it goes so well with the story😭

This is a safe space so no weird homophobia about Y/N thinking he's gay. Being gay is completely normal and also none of your business. Thanks <3

IdolMinho X Blackreader

Request are open! I reply quickly. Masterlist here

Synopsis~ I moved to Korea for better opportunities. With the rise of K-pop, they need more dancers. That is whatI did for a living. It started with complaining to my friend about my gay neighbors waking me up at god-awful times at night, but it went too far. One day I asked them to 'shut the fuck up' in a fit of English. But then I got close. And now, I go over all the time to hang out. Turns out, they might not actually be gay either.

Warning~ Cursing, cock warming, a little aggressive, cunnilingus, virgin, dirty talk. Calls her 'dirty girl' and that's the worst of the worst. Y/N is blunt as hell, and a little asshole.

Word count~ 8.3k

"They're so fucking loud. They have to be having the best gay sex of their lives."

My friend Tanner drank his coffee, "I'm voting for gay sex. But, we love gay sex around here." I quirked an eyebrow, "This is why I think you're gay."

Tanner asked, "I wonder who the top is."

He laughed at his own joke and put the cup down. I said, "Anyways, my new neighbors are annoying. How's it living back in Korea?" He shrugged, "I can't get used to it. I feel out of place."

Tanner and I have been friends since elementary school. His family moved to America to explore. We grew up dancing together. Though he's obsessed with K-pop, and I'm not. I appreciate good choreography. We moved here to apply for better jobs. 

Tanner said, "I feel like you have nothing to complain about. You're living in an expensive ass, two-bedroom apartment." I laughed, "Yeah, but I need the other room as a practice room." 

Tanner rolled his eyes, "Whatever you say." He started to get up as he explained, "I have an audition to go to. I'll come over tonight, probably." I smiled, "For sure. Alright, see you." Tanner got up and left me there on my phone. 

He reminded me that I had to answer some emails. I get a request to choreograph. I had a passion for choreographing, and Tanner has a passion for dance. 

I unlocked my door and threw my bag on the counter. I slid off my shoes and waddled to my couch. I sighed as I lay down in peace and quiet. 

It was nice to finally be able to relax. Tanner wears me out sometimes. He's so high-energy.

I closed my eyes, and if it was on comedic timing, a thump shot through my wall. My eyes shot open as I jolted up. "What the- I'm gonna crash out. I swear to god, I'm about to crash the fuck out."

I rolled over and put the pillow over my head. My door opened, and Tanner was walking in with what sounded like a bag. 

I lifted my head to see THE 'mom's cooking' bag. I couldn't help but smile as I peeked into the bag. "You tired?" I nodded, "I might end up going to bed. That okay?" Tanner shrugged, "I'm in your house when you're not here. I don't care." 

I sighed, "Don't eat all the food. I'll call your Mom."

He rolled his eyes, "Snitch." I laughed as I lugged into my bathroom to shower. I went to bed pretty early. My body felt so exhausted. 

That's a sign I'm gonna start my period. I stuck on a pad because I had intuition. I went to bed calmly. 

My sleep was light. I was having a great dream before I was rudely interrupted by a loud laugh. The walls are thick, it's just there loud asses in the night. 

I stomped out of bed and right into the complex hallway. I had on my night slipper, oversized T-shirt, and my bonnet. I looked like someone's auntie.

I knocked on the door, and the hottest man I've ever seen opened the door. "Yes?"

My eye twitched at how he looked at me. He looked at me like I was disturbing him. I tried to control my anger, but it shot out of me anyway. 

"Can you shut the FUCK UP! I mean Jesus! Nigga's are trying to sleep!" The other guy's head popped up behind the first one. 

I continued yelling, "I've had a long day! I get you two are having earth-shattering brain chemical-changing sex, but please lower the fucking volume!" 

I heaved as the two of them stared at me in disbelief. "Damn." The guy standing behind him walked closer. He looked like a quokka. "Could've thrown a note under the door or something." 

My eye twitched again, "Why are you even up this late at night?" The guy upfront confessed, "We just got back from a schedule..." 

I looked back and forth, "Yeah? Well, I don't give a fuck! Go to bed!" 

I stormed back to my place and closed my door. 

"I can't believe you crashed out on your neighbors." I looked at my phone on Facetime as I walked through the grocery aisle. "You don't understand Tanner. I want what they have for real."

Tanner said, "I need to take a look at these guys. I need to determine how hot they are." I sighed, "I'm telling you, one of them is model-worthy." 

Tanner laughed. I reached for the gallon of milk and looked at my cart. It was only cereal, juice, water, and milk. It's all I really eat. I can't cook for shit. I have to rely on Tanner's mom. I have allergies that prevent me from eating most food.

It was a lot of cereal. I paid for everything in self-checkout and got in my car. 

When I got to my apartment, I had to hang up on Tanner because I had six bags and keys in my hand. I heard footsteps behind me as I stumbled with the key. 

I heard someone pick up my bag, and I turned quickly. 

Who's stealing my shit!?

It was the neighbor from the other day. If I were to guess who the top was, I'd say it was this guy.

His chest was big, and he was bigger than me. His face looked cold, but he held my grocery bags, waiting for me to open the door. That's when I realized I had been staring. 

"Ahem." I cleared my throat as he blinked at me. I opened the door, and he invited himself in, helping me put the groceries on my counter. 

He looked down at my sneakers. "Your shoes are still on." I looked down and then back up at him. "I know."

He studied the see-through bags and came to a realization. He opened my fridge to see nothing but some kimchi fermenting from Tanner's mom.

"Why are you snooping in my house!?" He didn't speak much. Probably because he thinks I only speak English. I quickly code-switched to Korean, "Why are you snooping in my house?" 

His head turned to me quickly, "You speak Korean?" I said, "Fluently." He blinked at me, "My name is Minho." I said, "Okay, Minho. Get out." I pushed him out of my house and slammed the door.

I stared at the door in curiosity for a moment. I didn't hear Minho immediately walk away. 

I thought, His roommate understood me yesterday. He understood me yesterday, too.

I started putting my groceries away and went to my room to check my emails. Still nothing from the job department. 

I came here for better opportunities, but I have no job, and currently living off the money I made from a show I did with a well-known rapper. 

I pulled out my phone and watched my old dancing videos. I felt like I lost my rush. I lost my purpose. 

I felt like I wasn't good enough.

A couple hours passed, and I heard a knock on my door. It was close to sundown. I opened the door, "Tan, you forgot your key or something? Oh-" Minho was standing on the other side with tubawware. I furrowed my eyebrows, "The hell?" 

Minho said, "Take it." I strangely obliged. He commented, "You shouldn't only eat cereal and juice. Plus, I see how much money you spend on buying food. Doesn't your roommate know how to cook?" 

I shook my head, "I don't have one." "Whose that guy then?" 

I lied, "My boyfriend, stalker." I closed the door in his face and opened the Tupperware. I shouldn't accept food from strangers. But I was hungry.

It smelled amazing. I observed it for anything I might be allergic to. I smiled while eating it. The flavor burst on my tongue. It tasted just like Tanner's mom's cooking.

"Fuck. This is amazing." I fear I can't hate him chat.

The next day, I was up early for an audition.

I was going to the JYPE company. I wore casual clothes and made my way to the shared elevator. 

I heard a door beside me open, and I turned around. It wasn't the guy from yesterday. It was the guy living with him. 

I didn't have much against him, so I opened the elevator. He walked in and bowed. 

I looked at him and asked, "You're my neighbor, right?" He smiled. His chubby cheeks and big boba eyes expand. 

I asked, "What's your and his name?" He answered, "I'm Han, and he's Minho. We call him Lee Know sometimes." 

Lee Know... that sounds familiar. Where have I heard that from?

The silence was awkward, and I disrupted it with, "Weird ass nickname but whatever."

Han laughed, and the door opened. I walked out of my car. Han got in an Uber.

I wonder where he's going? I could offer to drive him next time.

I started my engine and drove off. I made it to the JYP building and parked. I saw Han getting out of his Uber when I was at the door. My eyebrows furrowed, and I yelled, "Yo? Han!"

Han turned around and waved at me. I walked over, "You auditioning for dance?" 

He smiled, "No...? You really don't know who I am?" I quirked my eyebrow, "Why would I know who you are? We just met today." 

Han laughed, "You can't be serious. Come inside." I walked with him. He gave his ID to the lady upfront. 

I smiled, "I'm here for dance auditions."

The lady smiled, "Well, you're going to file down that hallway."

I looked at Han confused and asked, "You do press work here? Are you a manager?" Han laughed, "What's so hard to believe that I'm a group member?"

I asked, "What group?" 

"Stray Kids."

The realization hit. My eyes widened. 

Oh my god, I screamed at a celebrity.

I shook my head.

No Y/N, stand on business.

I smiled, "Yeah, sounds like some bullshit. I'll google it later. See ya."

I did the audition. I felt pretty confident that I'd make it in. JYPE needed a choreographer, and that's what I am. 

I also did some googling and found out I live next to Minsung.

Are they actually that gay, though? 

I went down a rabbit hole of Minsung edits and concluded that they were definitely in love with each other.

I drove home to my apartment. Tanner was already inside. "You will never guess what I found out today."

Tanner smiled, "That you live next door to StrayKids. I know."

I was about to scream, but I stayed quiet. "Now I look like a stalker because I auditioned under their company."

Tanner laughed and asked, "You hungry?" I nodded with a pout. "I was gonna take you out to dinner." I cheered, "That's what I needed!"

We were out at dinner. I had a bowl of ramen, and Tanner was eating a lobster special. 

"I heard that Minho leads the dance squad. Most of the dancers were in his dance crew."

I sighed, "So it's over for me." Tanner was finding this whole schpiel hilarious. I crashed out on my future boss. "So what? I'm not gonna make it in. The best thing for me is to background dance for HYBE."

Tanner sucked in an anxious breath, "Yeah... not gonna happen."

I watched as he took a sip of his Coke. He looked back at me and said, "I have to go overseas next week. I have a show."

I smiled, "Really? How'd you manage to do that?"

He shrugged, "My manager probably sucked a couple people's dick's."

My mouth opened in shock, "Tanner! Shut up!" He laughed. At heart, he still is simply a man. 

I finished my food, "Is your mom going with you or not?" He asked, "Why?" I groaned, "I'll eat nothing but takeout for a while."

Tanner smiled, "True. Just try eating out more."

I sighed, and we both got up.

"BYE! Be safe, I'll miss you!" Tanner kissed the top of my head and gave me a tight hug. I said in a muffled voice, "I'll miss you too."

He smiled and ran off.

I bit my lip as I watched him go into TSA.

I walked off and made my way back to my car. 

It's five in the morning.

I drove through a fast food drive-through.

I sat in my car eating as I reviewed my emails. I had an email from JYP Entertainment.

I opened it and quirked an eyebrow.

"What the-"

I gasped, "I MADE IT IN!"

I cheered to myself as I watched the people in the parking lot give me stares. I ducked and excitedly texted Tanner the news.

I drove home and threw away the bag. 

My first day would be starting tomorrow. I was so excited.

The anticipation of knowing I'd be employed again was terrific. 

I almost couldn't sleep from the thoughts bubbling in my mind.

I woke up earlier than my alarm and decided to get ready.

I had to start choreographing for their comeback RIGHT NOW. 

I was speeding out of my apartment when I ran into Han again. "Hey?" I smiled and said, "Hi!" I looked at Han. I realized something. I asked, "Are you going to the same place?" He smiled, "Probably."

I looked at the buttons and asked, "You want me to drive you there?" Han laughed. His smile was bright as he said, "I'm a millionaire." 

I rolled my eyes, "Cancel your damn Uber. I'm supposed to meet with your other member today anyway."

Han smiled, "You are. Changbin, Chan, and I. We're all getting to know you."

I paused. "Eh? All three?" Han nodded, "Yeah, we all produce the music. Then, you teach the choreo to Minho, and he adjusts it how he likes, and you both teach it to the group." 

Everything started to settle in, "So, I have to like... meet you guys."

Han laughed, "Don't be too embarrassed. I would've yelled at Minho, too. He can be annoying."

I let out a deep breath. I walked Han to my car, and he got in. I started to pull off, and Han typed on his phone. "What groups have you've done choreography for?" I glanced at him before returning back to the road. 

"Ah, I did some for Enhypen, Ateez, and Beyoncé."

Han's eyes widened, "BEYONCE?" I nodded, "She's very detail-oriented."

"Wow, you're the real deal." I laughed, "I wouldn't say so. I kind of just reached the top of America. I wanted to come here and work up."

He listened as I continued to talk, "I'm thinking of going to Japan after... maybe Spain... Shakira would be fun."

Han laughed, "The fact that those are your goals tells me that you're the shit."

I smiled. When we finally made it to the building, we entered the studio.

I entered in, pulling my beanie down further. "Hey? I mean, annyeong-haseyo or some shit..."

Chan laughed, "We can speak English." I smiled, "Kidding, I know Korean fluently."

Changbin quirked an eyebrow, "Really?" I nodded, "Yeah, I have a Korean-American friend. His family taught me." I looked at the mirror as I stretched. "So what are we doing?" 

Chan sat on the floor, "We have title tracks we need dances for. Lee Know is gonna meet us here. He had a photo shoot." 

I looked at Han, "I thought you said I wouldn't have to deal with him today?"

Changbin asked, "You've already met?" "He's my fucking neighbor."

He furrowed his eyebrows, "What'd he do? I know he's an asshole." I suddenly felt the need to defend him, "He's not an asshole... He's just loud."

Chan just sighed, "Wait until you meet the rest of the team."

I groaned. Chan laughed as he looked at his phone, "I have this song, it's called LALALALA, then Megaverse, maybe Comflex."

I said, "Alright, play it. Let me see what I come up with on the spot."

He played 'LALALALA' first. I nodded my head with the melody, "Ya'll produced this? This is fire."

Chan smiled. The song went off, and I said, "I have an idea. Can you stand for me?" 

I put them in a triangle formation and stood up front. "I think we can do a stuttering movement for the beginning."

I told Chan to play the song and started to do the dance. My shoulders shook as I stared at the mirror. Han loudly said, "Wa! I love it!" 

I smiled, "Right? Just send me the songs, and I'll figure it out." 

Chan laughed, "Yeah, for sure."

The door opened, and in walked Minho. He had a full face of makeup and sweatpants. "Ya. I made it."

I looked up to see Minho. Something about his aura was intense. When he's at home, he has this carefree attitude. Minho was being professional. 

I said, "Hi, I'm your choreographer."

Minho paused as he looked me over. He gave me a tiny bow before sitting with the boys. I turned to Han, "Is he socially awkward or an asshole?"

Han shrugged, "A little bit of both." I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. I couldn't storm over to Tanner's house and yell about Minho. I had to be professional.

Minho asked, "So, what are we working with."

Chan turned to me. His eyes softened as he explained, "Y/N already had an idea for the choreography for LALALALA."

Minho turned to me as if he was expecting something. His stare was cold, but I needed to be myself.

I'm hot-headed and confident. Why was Minho making me feel stupid?

I stood up, and Changbin stood with me. Chan turned on the beat, and they watched as I danced in the mirror.

I felt like an idiot doing it with only Changbin. 

"Ya, that's awesome. Sit down." I looked at Minho. He still had this aloofness, but his eyes were glistening.

I sat down, "We were gonna leave it to you two to do the rest of the choreo." My head snapped to Han. 

I mouthed, "Betrayal." He cheesed, "I have to do some stuff in the studio." Chan grunted as he got up, "Yeah, me too." Changbin started getting up, "Yeonjun wanted to hang." 

Changbin blew a kiss to Minho, and he furrowed his eyebrows. "Disgusting." I laughed while looking at him. Minho turned to me, and we made eye contact. 

His stare was so intense it made my stomach churn.

"You think it's funny?" I let out a nervous laugh instead, "Ah, no."

Minho continued staring before he cracked a smile, "I'm just messing with you. C'mon."

I got up with him. He said, "So, this choreo you made up. Are you gonna demonstrate?"

I smiled, "It looked better in my head. I don't know if everyone is gonna like it." Minho had this unreadable expression on his face. Only his eyes told me something. "That's fine."

I awkwardly stepped behind him, and he turned to look at me. "What are you doing?" I offered the stage, "You have something in mind?" 

His eyes softened, "You're cute." My eyes widened, "CUTE? I'm not cute!"

He laughed, "Yeah. Play the song, I'll show you what I wanted."

He started dancing. I looked at it carefully. I like the way his body moves. It's so fluid and natural. He makes dancing look easy. 

"Yeah, I like it."

He turned around, "Yeah?" I nodded. Minho smiled, "Good. Alright, that's enough for the day. I'm tired."

My mouth dropped open, "We just started." He smiled, "You can stay behind if you want. I'm going home." 

I stood there in shock as Minho actually grabbed his bags. He turned around and took a look at me. "Wait. Have you eaten?" 

I thought back. I hadn't eaten since 5 in the morning. It was 12pm. "I had uhm... I had fast food this morning."

Minho's face dropped, "When?" I gulped, "At 5."

His eyes widened, "AM?! Jesus. Let's go."

I asked, "Let's go where?" He walked back over and pulled the corner of my shirt. "Let's go."

I let him drag me to his car, "Wait, how am I getting to work tomorrow?" Minho laughed, "We're going to the same place, at the same time, for the next two to three months. I can drive you."

I pouted as he basically threw me in the car. He closed the door behind me and climbed into the driver's seat. 

He started driving off, but I recognized the route. We were going home. Minho said, "Do you often not eat? Do you get distracted by work?" 

I smiled, "Kinda. But, usually, my friend Tanner brings food."

His body tensed, "Tanner? I thought Tanner was your boyfriend?" 

I smiled, "I lied. I thought you were a gay creep."

Minho furrowed his eyebrows, "I'm not a creep!"

Okay, but you didn't deny my gay allegations.

"Well... you're a strange guy."

Minho rolled his eyes, "You're coming to my place. I still have leftovers from last night."

I walked with him to his apartment, and he pressed the key.

He walked into the apartment, and it felt like my home.

Minho was maternal. I could tell by how he kept everything. No dishes in the sink, laundry half folded in the living room, rows of shoes at the door. 

"Sorry for the mess. Make yourself at home." I sat on the island bar stool. Minho pulled out a pot and put it back on the gas stove. I watched as he stirred the soup. 

He went back in his fridge and heated up some rice. 

It wasn't long before he made me a plate. The portion was just right, while his was huge. "It smells good."

Minho had that faint smirk on his face, "Yeah? Taste it."

I blew the hot soup and ate it. It tasted like Tanner's mom's cooking.

"This tastes like how Tanner's mom makes it." 

Minho smiled, "Is that a good thing?" "Yes! She's my second mom."

Minho asked, "Tanner, is he your only friend?" I squinted at him, "No! Actually, I'm friends with some people from your old crew. Tanner is my childhood friend."

He quirked an eyebrow, "Really? You two must be really close then."

I nodded, "We are. Tanner has been there for me." Minho nodded, "That sounds like a good friend." I smiled, "I was over his house more than I was at mine."

Minho laughed, "I'm sure you're pretty invasive." I plucked his arm, and Minho flinched. "Aye! I'm not invasive."

"Kinda are." I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked at him. "You're invasive. You've fed me, let me in your car, and home... you're crazy."

Minho smiled, "You don't eat. You can't dance well if you don't have a good diet."

I sighed as I ate the rice, "I guess."

Minho looked forward, "You plan on telling Tanner how you really feel about him?" I tensed, "I don't like Tanner. I had a crush on him in high school, but that ended quickly."

Minho turned to look at me. His eyes were soft. I asked, "Do you plan on telling Han how you feel about him?"

Minho smiled, "Yeah, right." 

I couldn't help but ask. That's the second time Minho didn't blatantly deny being gay. 

"Minho, do you like men?" He laughed, "No, Y/N." I asked, "Why haven't you screamed you're not gay yet?" 

Minho laughed through his nose, "Because it doesn't make me angry? There are worst things I could be called. Also, I'm used to people thinking Han is my gay lover."

I smiled, "So, just to clarify, you like women?" Minho stared into my eyes.

He turned away and shrugged it off, "Why? You plan on asking out your boss or something?"

I froze and spat, "No." Minho stood up and grabbed our plates. He asked, "You done?" I nodded. He walked over to the sink and started rinsing the plates off. "Are you afraid of me or something?"

I relaxed, "I'm not afraid of you. You make me feel awkward."

I couldn't see his face, "I get that a lot."

I sighed, "Yeah, and you're lowkey an asshole. You're a great cook, though. You do a lot of sweet actions. Like, feed me. But, I don't know, I'm the type of girl who needs to be told I love-"

I stopped talking. Minho didn't say anything as he waited for a response. He turned around quickly, "Wae?"

I shook my head, "Nothing. Anyways, thanks for the food. I'm going home." Minho walked over, "What just happened?" I shook my head, "Nothing, I just need to go home."

Minho grabbed my hand, and I looked at him. His facial expression was unreadable, "You walk out in the middle of conversations often?"

I laughed, "I don't want to overshare." Minho pulled away, "I won't make you." I sighed, "Okay. I really wanna go. I have to clean up my house and get ready for tomorrow."

His face stayed stoic, "Right, see you tomorrow."

I walked out of his house and calmed down. I stopped talking not because I was oversharing. I caught myself liking him more than I should.

I threw on my backpack and grabbed my keys. I stopped in my tracks as I realized. "Fuck." I stormed out of my house and knocked on Minho's door.

It wasn't long before the door swung open. Han was scratching his head as he yawned. "Y/N-ah. What's wrong?"

I said, "Minho needs to drive me to the building because my car is still there." Han quirked an eyebrow, "Woah, where'd you two go last night?"

I said, "Here. I ate the food." Han invited me into the apartment, and I slid off my shoes. I sat on the couch feeling uncomfortable. Han asked, "Did you eat anything?" I shook my head, "I can't eat much before work. It makes me feel like I'm gonna throw up."

Han sighed and walked away from the fridge. Minho was showering. I could hear the water splashing from the living room. I asked, "Minho won't walk out here naked, right?

Han turned to me and said, "I'll be right back."

He ran to the bathroom and opened the door. I could hear his voice, "Hyung." "Mhm?" Lee Know responded calmly. This must not be the first time he's walked into the bathroom with him. 

I know the two of them are gay.

"Y/N is here. She's waiting for you."

I didn't hear the rest because I stopped paying attention. 

I got comfortable on the couch, and the early morning tiredness started to get to me. 

My head hit the back of the couch, and I fell asleep. 

I woke up to Han standing over me, "Y/N."

I slowly woke up. "Let's go. We gotta go to practice."

I lazily walked to the door and slid on my shoes. I slowly trailed behind the guys. They were talking about nothing. I sprawled across the backseat and fell asleep. 

It was a short nap. I was as energetic as ever once we made it to dance practice. 

Minho was in the mirror doing the choreo I taught him as I hopped around. "You like?! I came up with it in my dream." 

Minho hadn't smiled, "You need to sit down."

I shook my head, "Make me." Minho was quick to walk over to me, grab both my wrists, and sit me on the couch. 

I stared at his tired eyes and looked away. Heat rushed to my cheeks, and my breath hitched. Minho pulled away, "Sorry." I looked back at him. His ears were burning red.

"It's okay, you're tired."

Minho stepped back, and I stayed there silently. 

Practice was over, and Minho was being really awkward. I understood why he did that, but I couldn't get over his ears. They were so red. I was starting to doubt it was from embarrassment.

Honestly, I liked the way he took control. It was so intimate. But Minho was pushing it away. 

I decided to lead, "I'm pretty hungry. Can I come over?"

Minho's ears went back to red, "To eat? Yeah."

I smiled, "Okay. I'll meet you at the apartment."

I got in the car. I had to sit there and think. Minho was starting to look attractive to me. He's gay. Minho can't possibly like me. 

Okay, maybe he's bisexual.

I bit my lip as I thought about Minho touching me. Fuck I wanted him all over me. 

I pushed those thoughts down and drove off to our apartment. 

I got in the elevator and made my way up to his floor. I walked into the hallway and knocked. "Passwords 0325." I put it in, and it opened. 

"Hey. You didn't have to start cooking."

"I did. We didn't have any leftovers." I smiled. He was cooking meat. 

"What time did you go to sleep last night? You were sleeping all day."

I thought, "Pretty late. I always have issues with falling asleep, though." Minho looked at me like I was the oddest human.

I interrupted what he was about to say, "I gotta pee. Where's the bathroom?" He pointed at the door, "That one doesn't work. Use the one in my room."

I waited for him to look up again. He stared, "My room is on the left."

I nodded and walked to his room. It was clean and smelled like him. There weren't many personal items in his room. There was an occasional cat photo and family photo, but nothing else.

I walked into his bathroom and did my business. I washed my hands and looked at his sink.

Toothpaste, Listerine, Q-tips, and two toothbrushes, 

Two? I wonder who the other one is for? 

The way they sit next to each other is intimate. That toothbrush is for someone else.

I backed away as my heart shattered. 

Is he in a relationship? That's a shame. I think I was starting to like him.

I walked out of the bathroom. Minho was standing in the doorway. "You were taking a while, I thought you started stealing."

I laughed while emptying my pockets. I said, "I was washing my hands." Minho stare on his face was intense. Well, it would be if I didn't see his soft eyes.

"What's wrong?" "I'm hungry! Let's eat!" 

I ran past Minho. I was already in the cabinet to grab a plate. "Ya, wait." He ran after me.

He didn't take his eyes off me, and I couldn't let my facade falter.

If I were his girlfriend, I'd be pissed if he had a girl in here and feeding her. Is this guy a two-timer?

Minho sat next to me and ate. "Is it good?" I smiled, "Mhm! It's delicious." 

He let out a long sigh, "What's up? Something's wrong." I pushed back, "Noth-"

Minho quirked his eyebrow, and I sighed. "You got a boyfriend?" Minho smiled, "I'm not gay, Y/N. Seriously." I said, "Well, a girlfriend." 

Minho laughed, "What is with you?" I felt easy, "Well, you have another toothbrush in your bathroom."

"I do? It's probably Yongbok's. He and Han stayed up playing video games." 

"Yongbok is your team member?" He nodded, "Yeah. Why are you so hellbent on my sex life?"

I shook my head, "I'm not! It would've been weird if I was over your house if you had a girlfriend."

Minho rolled his eyes. "Well, I feed the homeless often."

I smacked his shoulder, and he laughed. "Asshole."

The next day was a break from practice. I stayed home and watched TV all day until I got a text.

.

.

.

Ilikemenhoe

Come over

You

Bootycall?

Ilikemenhoe

No pabo you haven't eaten

Ilikemenhoe

Not a doordash or anything has hit your door

Ilikemenhoe

Han and I are eating right now

Ilikemenhoe

Passcode is 0325

You

Ugh, I don't feel like getting up

Ilikemenhoe

I'm not playing with you

You

Ouu talk to me dirty

Ilikemenhoe

You talk different over the phone

You

SHUT UP

You

FINE i'm coming

Ilikemenhoe

Looks who talking dirty now

.

.

.

I laughed and slid on some slippers. I walked into Minho's apartment, and Han looked up from his phone. "Ah, what are you doing here?"

I pointed at Minho, "He invited me for a meal."

I sat down and got a serving. It was quiet before Han said, "Anyways, I was trying to, but it wouldn't let me."

Minho nodded, "Mm, I'll look at it later." I looked at the two of them talking and shrunk into my own head.

I saw Han look at me and say, "Y/N? How's practice?"

I jolted up, "Good. Your songs make for easy choreo."

Minho laughed and looked at me, "Really? You were crying about how you wanted to give up yesterday." "That's different. You be getting on my nerves!"

Han looked at the two of us bickering, "Uh huh..."

Han asked, "Ya'll in love with each other?" We both turned around at the same time, "What? No."

Minho said, "You don't know what you're talking about."

Han quirked an eyebrow while staring at his eyes. He grabbed for his drink, leaving it to spill all over me.

I scooted back quickly, "Aw shit."

Han looked at me, "I'm so sorry! Let me help." 

Except he couldn't. It was all over my chest. I waved my hands, "It's fine. I live next door, I'll just..." 

Before I could finish, Han threw off his hoodie and handed it to me.

"At least let me clean your clothes."

I sighed, "Fine."

I changed in the half bathroom and gave Han my shirt. His hoodie was big on me. It fell farther from my hands and reached just above my knee. 

"Are you comfortable?" Minho's jaw was tight as he forced out those pretty words. "Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?" I lifted the hoodie, and Minho started rapidly blinking. He saw my pajama shorts underneath, and his chest relaxed.

"It's just you guys." Minho's eyes softened. He liked that I was comfortable being dressed down around him.

"Yeah." Han came back and sat back at the table. "Again. I'm sorry." I smiled and touched his arm caringly, "It's okay, Han."

Minho's eye twitched as he stared at us. He looked me over again and again. Han asked, "Is my hoodie comfortable?"

I smiled, "Definitely! Where'd you get it?"

He admitted, "I think it's a Gucci hoodie. I don't remember." I laughed, "Wow. Wish I could not remember if it's Gucci or Versace."

Han laughed. I picked up the last dumpling and ate. I was chewing while Minho silently stared down Han. "Minho. What's wrong?"

He turned to me and took a deep breath. "Nothing. I'm full."

I read the room. I think the two needed to be alone to make out or something. I said, "I'm gonna get going. Call me when my clothes are done Hannie."

Minho jolted, and we both looked at him, "I will."

Han's eyes didn't leave Minho's as I carefully walked out.

As soon as I closed the door, I heard Han start to yell. I laughed and entered my apartment. I sat on my couch to continue my show.

My phone dinged three times, and I had to look at it.

.

.

.

Hannie

Aye you like Minho right?

Hannie

He obviously likes you

Hannie

Sorry for spilling the drink it was for an experiment

You

What experiment????

You

Who said i liked Minho????????

Hannie

You saw how quiet he got when you were wearing my hoodie

You

I did

Hannie

I'm going to the studio tonight

Hannie

Come over when the clothes are done in my hoodie and see what he does

You

Why tho???

Hannie

You'll see

.

.

.

It was about two hours of silence until I heard my phone ring again. This time, my heart quickened. I knew it was Minho, and it made me nervous. He texted me that my clothes were done. 

It was about 12 AM now, and I was prepping for sleep. Han's hoodie was long abandoned.

I slipped it back on and made my way into the apartment. I put the code in and walked inside. Minho was in the kitchen cleaning up. 

He looked over, "Mm, it's over there."

I looked at Minho as he stared at the hoodie. He wanted to rip it off. His jaw was tight, his muscles tensed, and his eyes locked on the hoodie. 

I walked to the couch and reached down to pick it up. I felt the hoodie ride up, showing my shorts underneath.

I heard Minho grunt, and then he pretended to clear his throat.

Oh shit, he wants me.

I walked over to the door, and Minho cornered me. "Why haven't you changed out the hoodie?"

I bit my lip as my eyes widened. Minho's hand tugged on the hem, and a whimper left my throat. "I'll change out of it when I get home."

He growled, "Yeah? Good."

He let go. I could tell it was physically painful to restrain himself from me. I wanted him too, but I haven't had sex before.

I walked out and called for Tanner. He answered, "Hey! It's been a while!"

I said, "Tanner! I have a fat crush on my neighbor."

"Woah! I missed a couple of chapters." I said, "Well, I hadn't eaten much, and Minho noticed. He started inviting me over to eat. Han spilled something on me, and Minho was seething at the thought of me in his hoodie. Now I want him. What do I do?!"

Tanner said it like it was the obvious, "Uhm, take his clothes off."

"I've never-" "I know," Tanner interrupted. His eyes were soft, "You're dealing with a grown man. You're gonna have to eventually."

I sighed, "Maybe I should talk to him tomorrow."

Tanner smiled, "You should."

I skipped into Minho's apartment. I called, "Minho, come here." 

He walked out of his bedroom. His hair was messy, his face was red and puffy, and he was shirtless. 

His abs were chiseled, and his chest was broad. My breath hitched as my teeth sunk into my bottom lip.

"What?" He threw on his shirt and sat on the couch, "I like you."

Minho's head turned quickly, "Eh?" "You heard me."

He stomped over to me. Minho grabbed my hands, "You like me?" I nodded.

Minho was staring me down like I was prey. I could tell he was aggressive in the bedroom. Something about Minho made me feel so hot.

"You sure?" I nodded, "Let's make this happen."

Minho was careful. He leaned down and sank his soft lips into mine. He pulled away, and a click from our lips echoed between us.

I lifted my head and let my hand travel to his face. He leaned back in and kissed me deeper. My arms wrapped around his neck. His hands grabbed my waist to keep me steady. I gasped when his hand squeezed my ass. 

I pulled away first, "Minho. I should let you know that-" "I know. I won't do anything you're not ready for."

Minho and I have been peacefully dating for a month. It was a month of will we, won't we. 

Make-out sessions would turn heated too quickly. One minute, we're eating, and the next minute, I'm sprawled on the table. Minho is shoving his tongue down my throat. 

His hands would travel all over me when we'd be practicing.

Minho was an intense and passionate person. 

I, on the other hand, was too shy. I'd pull away when I'd feel Minho's boner. I'd tell him to stop when he touched too far. I'd push him away when he'd kiss me too hard.

I was constantly shooting him down, and I could tell it was getting to him.

My touchy-feely boyfriend was distant.

The only time we'd touch these days was when we'd cuddled.

Minho started inviting me over to help me sleep. Of course, we'd cuddled and snuggled. Sometimes, I'd feel Minho growing in size.

He used to pull me into it, but now, when he gets a boner, he turns around. If it gets so bad, he leaves and doesn't return until I've fallen asleep.

As nervous and innocent as I am, I missed how touchy he was.

He doesn't tell me he likes me. He shows me. He touches me, feeds me, and hangs out with me.

Now he doesn't slap my ass when I look sexy. He stares and walks off. 

I came over for my routine sleepover in Han's hoodie.

I had forgotten it was Han's. I noticed it smelled different but didn't think much of it.

Minho grabbed me by the hips as I walked through the front door.

"No. Take that off."

I hugged him, "Hmm." Minho's grip tightened as he said, "That's Han's hoodie." I looked down and touched it, "Oh, I forgot about that."

Minho smiled, "Then take it off." 

I wrapped my arms around his neck and stood on my tippy toes, "Make me." 

He pulled away, but not far enough because my arms trapped him.

"What's gotten into you?" I didn't answer. "I think we should have a talk."

I let go, and we walked to his room. He closed and locked the door behind us. I couldn't get a word out because he was already skipping past me to his closet.

"Here."

He threw a snuggly hoodie, "Let's go to sleep."

I held the hoodie and shook my head, "No. I want you to take it off me." Minho paused and sucked in a breath. "What are you talking about?" 

I said, "Come take it off." Minho leaned close to my ear. He whispered, "I'm not playing with you. If it were up to me, I'd fuck you to the edge and not let you cum. I'd beat myself and cum all over that hoodie and give it back to Han just like that. You better start changing."

I bit my lip, and a whimper came out. "I want you to."

Minho pulled away, and a calm breath escaped his lips. He closed his eyes and said, "Not until you're ready."

"I am ready."

Minho's eyes widened, and he rapidly blinked at me. 'What?"

I pulled his arms, and he wrapped his arms around my waist, "I want you to take my virginity."

His eyes rolled to the back of his head, "Yeah? Well, I won't be the rough boyfriend you expect. I like it slow and gentle."

"That's okay too."

I scooted to the headboard, and Minho kissed me. He tilted his head, and I felt his warm tongue swipe my bottom lip. His smooth teeth bit my bottom lip.

I whined when he pulled away. Minho sat on the bed and pulled me on top. I kissed him again, and he pushed me back, "You have to tell me what you like. You have to show me where to touch you. I don't want to hurt you."

I nodded, and Minho's lips connected to my neck. I pulled his hands to wrap around my waist. My hips started to move on their own. He steadied my hips, "Slow down, Jagiya."

I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he slowly flipped us over. His body seeped between my legs as his kisses moved to my collarbone.

"Take this stupid hoodie off."

He was swiping it off my body in a quick motion. "You make me crazy." He kissed down my chest as I looked at his lips connected with my breast. 

He took off my bra, and his tongue licked my nipples. I moaned. I grabbed his hair, "I want you to kiss me."

He let go and kissed me deeply. I shoved my hand in my pants and tried to touch myself. Minho grabbed my hands with one hand and raised them above my head. "Not yet."

I watched as he kissed down my stomach to the hem of my shorts. He pulled down my shorts, and I felt the breeze.

My stomach sucked in rapidly as I felt him flick his thumb over my clit. I moaned, "I like that."

Minho raised his head between my legs. His eyes were so intense. My hand dove back as I closed my eyes. 

Minho seeped his middle finger into my hole. I gasped at the burning feeling.

"I got you."

He sucked on my clit, and I let out a whine. His tongue lapped over my bundle of nerves. My wet slick spilled all over his finger. I felt his knuckle against my walls, and my pussy clenched around him. 

He smiled, "Fuck. Do that when I'm in you."

He added two more digits. My legs shook from the thin line of pain and pleasure. I gripped the sheets, and my eyes squeezed shut.

He stretched out my little hole mercilessly. Nothing but his name could come out of my throat, "Minho~ It feels so good~" I kept singing to him.

His mouth wasn't done sucking on my bud. I was hot and sticky from sweat. My legs begged to come together like magnets.

All I could do was let him ruin me.

The sounds of wet sucking and the drool sliding down to Minho's quick pace were enough to make me cum alone. 

My stomach was aching for the orgasm that was building up. Minho's fingers moved quickly beneath my folds. It sent a rapid wave of pleasure shooting up and down my spine.

"Ah~ It feels so good."

Minho didn't respond. He was too distracted. He pulled me closer by my thigh. I felt my body start to shake. Minho's other hand grabbed my tits and started playing with my nipples.

I shuddered, and I started cumming. My walls fluttered around Minho's fingers as I let out shaky breaths.

I've never had the stamina to do more than two rounds. I was already tired and fucked out. 

Minho asked, "You want me to wear a condom?"

His eyes were intense as he stared at me. I shook my head, "You only fuck me, right?"

Minho smiled. He leaned down to give me a sweet kiss. The ones we'd give each other after not seeing each other all day.

The butterflies returned back to my stomach.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, and his tongue swiped my bottom lip. His soft lips pressed against mine, and his sharp nose pressed into my cheek.

I gripped his shirt, and he pulled away. "You want me to take this off?" I nodded, "Yes, please."

He smiled at my politeness. 

He was taking off his shirt and underwear. Now, he was just as naked as me.

He towered on top of me. His whole face was red now. His dick rubbed against my folds. His precum was cold, making me wonder how long he was holding out for.

He was thrusting against my clit for a minute as he sucked my neck. My hips bucked into him. His tip accidentally pressed into my hole.

We both moaned. My breathing got heavy as my body got hot again.

I begged, "Please! Minho, I can't take it anymore."

He pushed himself slowly into my folds, and I waited until he bottomed out. 

It hurt so much. I've never been stretched out like this before. 

He didn't move an inch. He isolated his lower half and kissed my cheek. I pulled him in for a kiss on the lips.

My head tilted as his tongue slipped between my lips again. I felt my body relax. Minho started to move, and I gasped against his mouth.

"I know jagiya. It's okay."

He was so gentle and slow. His voice was soft. He never gets soft.

It's moments like these when I realize how tender he really is.

His thrust got quicker. His strokes go deep. I looked at where we were connected and couldn't help but notice a bulge in my stomach.

I cried, "Minho, you're so big."

He looked down at the bulge, and his face got redder. His eyes widened, and he sank. His head lay in the crook of my neck, and he picked up the pace. 

He fucked me into the mattress. My body recoiled against his and the bouncy surface.

My pussy twitched, and Minho groaned so loud in my ear.

"Oh fuck. Y/N, you're so tight."

His dick made it to my G-spot, and I screamed, "Yes! Minho, yes!" 

Minho growled, "That feels good? Do you like it when I destroy you like that? Yeah? Dirty girl." 

My eyes rolled to the back of my head as the ache became unbearable. My legs shook, and my grip on him got tighter. "I'm g-gonna cum."

"Cum for me baby. Cum all over this big dick."

I whimpered as I felt myself release all over him. Minho didn't go any slower as he chased his own high.

His cum filled me up. My body relaxed, and Minho pulled out.

I whined from the coldness. "Come back."

A laugh escaped his nose as he wrapped us in blankets.

He big-spooned me and sank his cock back into my little hole.

My pussy fluttered. I said, "You definitely don't like men." Minho laughed, "I know, Y/N."

I calmly fell asleep in his arms.

When I woke up, Minho was still there. He was watching me sleep. He pushed a loc back in my bonnet and smiled. "Good morning."

I smiled, "Morning, baby."

Our relationship was as good as new.

Minho has a high sex drive, so we'd fuck at least five times a week. And that's multiple times in a day.

He's even more touchy than before, too.

Fuck... I loved him.

[familiarscars]

drive you insane | noah sebastian | 10

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. noah sebastian X psychiatrist!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. a mysterious new patient arrives at the Grimshade sanatorium and you have been tasked with taking care of his case.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). disturbing environment, violence, unconventional treatments, manipulation, questionable relationships.

"How did the lady spend the night?" He asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. Rune was on the other side of the table, wearing a dark blue sweater, his hair holding his glasses in place as it had grown longer, falling over his face. "Did you manage to sleep easily?"

He placed his hands on the table, fingers closing around a black pen. You took a deep breath and forced yourself to focus back on his face. Travis was calm, speaking slowly—like a psychiatrist.

"Is it just me, or am I in the middle of a session?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"In a short period of time, you saw two dead people, and one of them committed suicide right in front of you. That’s something worth monitoring. I'm not offering you assistance as a doctor, but support as a friend." He sounded sincere.

"It’s just that…" You hesitated, rubbing your fingers together. "It just seems like this concern certainly came from Dr. Steve because he suspects me again."

Rune took a deep breath, sliding back slightly in his chair, adopting a more relaxed posture. His fingers kept fiddling with the pen, making an irritating sound as the tip clicked against the table. Your night had been terrible—too many events to process in sequence, not to mention the excruciating muscle pain from your adventure in the Hidden.

"Elias was a patient with a high risk of suicide for months. He was under constant monitoring, even when he went to the bathroom for basic needs. There’s no reason to suspect you, Doctor. You just had the unfortunate luck of being in the wrong place and witnessing it." Rune said patiently. "Are you feeling guilty in any way?"

"No. Not at all." You shook your head. "I had recently accessed Elias’ records, and it shocked me to learn that he was a fellow professional who met such an end."

"None of us are immune."

"You always seem so sure of yourself, Dr. Rune. As if you were immune to Grimshade’s contagious air."

He smirked, just slightly.

"That’s just your impression," he dismissed with a casual wave of his hand, as if it didn’t matter. "I don’t believe in legends—especially the ones that reinforce the stereotype of psychiatrists going insane when exposed to places like this. Elias already had an undiagnosed psychotic tendency, and the pressure from work, among other factors, triggered a crisis."

Travis had a way of being didactic, speaking with the conviction and clarity of a university professor. Explaining something, no matter how complex, came easily to him.

"I understand perfectly, Dr. Rune, but I find it shocking that I was hired for a position without knowing who held it before me. It’s as if his life didn’t matter."

"Dr. Steve must have had his reasons, and that likely means he treated Elias as just another patient after his admission. He didn’t see the need to bring up that detail with you."

Detail.

To them, it was just a detail.

"Aren’t you hot?" he asked, gesturing toward you with his chin.

Your gaze flickered downward. You were wearing a thick, high-neck sweater, hugging your own arms with a restless grip. You were trying to hide the terrible number of bruises decorating your body—ranging from knife marks to deep purple contusions.

You had definitely lost your mind the night before, and a good part of your current disorientation had little to do with Elias’ suicide and everything to do with the memories Noah had carved into your brain with the tip of a blade.

Impossible to forget.

"Am I free to go? I have a schedule to follow, and I recall you complaining about leaving some patients hanging these past few days."

"This isn’t a session, Doctor. I truly just wanted to know how you were."

You stood up promptly, as if the train was about to depart and you were running late—or as if the chair itself housed a colony of ants ready to crawl up your legs.

Unintentionally, you exposed a bit of your wrist when your sleeve shifted, and Rune caught sight of the laceration on your skin—the one left by the chains.

His blue eyes slowly traveled up to meet yours, and you swallowed hard.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you."

You finally said, leaving the room.

Mariene’s voice was a constant buzz in your head, a muffled noise that faded in and out, like someone twisting the tuning knob of a faulty radio station.

“She gave me a dirty look, doctor. Like she’s better than me, but everyone knows that bitch is just as filthy as anyone else in here. I just spoke some truths, and she came at me, thinking she could threaten me. But I’m not afraid of her! You get me, right? I just…”

Her words brushed against you, but they didn’t sink in.

Your gaze was fixed on the window.

Outside, in Grimshade’s garden, Noah was crouched down, his fingers buried in the damp earth. The dark fabric of his pants grazed against the dirty ground, and the unruly strands of his hair fell over his face, hiding part of his expression. He moved slowly, as if he were digging, carefully pulling up bits of soil with an almost reverent touch.

What was he looking for?

Your stomach clenched in discomfort, and for a moment, a cold sensation slithered down your spine.

“Doctor?!”

Mariene’s voice snapped you back, your eyes shifting abruptly to her.

She narrowed her gaze, her face tightening with suspicion.

“You’re not even listening, are you?”

You forced a brief smile, picked up your pen, and scribbled something random onto the file.

“Of course I am, Mariene. Go on.”

She muttered something under her breath and resumed her speech, her voice once again becoming background noise.

You glanced at the window once more.

But Noah was no longer there.

The soil where he had been digging was still disturbed, marked by the traces of his fingers.

But him?

He had vanished.

“Can you pay attention to what I’m saying? When my sessions were with Dr. Rune, at least he pretended to be interested in what I had to say!”

Mariene’s voice had a shrill quality that grated on your ears, especially when she forced it for attention. She spoke in rushed, overlapping words, and the melancholy from the last group therapy session had given way to a concerning euphoria.

“I’m not only listening to what you’re saying, but I also noticed how agitated you are just by the tone of your voice. That shouldn’t be happening with someone on your type of medication.”

“I asked Dr. Rune to lower my dosage, and he allowed it.”

She said it with a puffed-up chest, as if she were in control and you were the subordinate. Heat rose to your cheeks, and a sharp anger churned in your empty stomach.

“Under what authorization? I am your psychiatrist!”

“You were too busy when he took over your patients, weren’t you?” Mariene taunted, her voice laced with challenge. “Or rather, you were so busy you didn’t even show up to our last session and have no idea what’s going on with me!”

Exhaustion and hunger gnawed at the last shreds of your patience. Without thinking, your hand slammed against the desk with force, making Mariene flinch.

“Enough!” Your voice was firm, cutting. “I will not tolerate that tone with me, not when I’m the authority here and you are the patient! I know exactly what’s going on with you, Mariene! I know you felt confident enough with Dr. Rune to mimic this hostile, arrogant stance, but I won’t accept that kind of defiance in my own office! And I will not allow you to question my methods. That is for me and me alone to decide. Understood?”

The words came out fast, sharp. You needed a moment to catch your breath while Mariene remained silent.

“Now, can we get back to our session?” you asked calmly, flashing a smile.

Mariene’s silence weighed down the office like a shadow.

Your chest rose and fell in an unsteady rhythm. Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

You tried to focus on her features, but Mariene’s face seemed… unstable. As if her skin was vibrating, her contours shifting imperceptibly, like a wet painting being dragged by invisible fingers.

Your stomach churned. You blinked, your eyes burned. When you looked again, Mariene was no longer there.

In her place, something deformed stood, its neck stretching unnaturally, its features melting like hot wax dripping from a skull. Its eyes sank into the sockets, now black voids without end. The mouth opened too wide, jagged shards of teeth sprouting where gums once were, a wet, sticky sound escaping its twisted throat.

A visceral shiver tore down your spine. You stood up so fast the chair toppled over. The creature tilted its head to the side, bones cracking with a dry, sickening pop.

“Doctor…”

The voice was no longer human. It was dragged, cavernous, an echo of a thousand voices speaking at once.

And then it moved.

Towards you.

Instinct screamed before your mind could rationalize.

It’s going to devour you.

Your body acted before your thoughts. You threw yourself backward, slamming into the desk, knocking over stacks of papers that scattered across the floor. The air thickened, the entire room seemed to tremble around you.

“Stay away from me!” Your own voice came out in a hoarse, desperate scream. But it kept coming. You felt something creeping over your skin. A cold, sticky touch.

It was on you.

You started scratching. Your nails dug into your own flesh, trying to rip it out.

The scream tore through your throat.

Out. Out. Out.

You flung yourself against the wall, trying to crush whatever was spreading inside you, writhing, suffocating.

And then—

The door burst open.

Guards stormed into the room.

The world spun.

Your chest rose and fell in chaotic bursts, your nails still embedded in your own skin. You felt firm hands gripping your arms, but you couldn’t stop thrashing. Mariene’s frantic eyes met yours. She was on the floor, cornered against the wall, her body curled up like a frightened animal.

And she was screaming.

“I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING! YOU’RE CRAZY! YOU SAW SOMETHING THAT WASN’T THERE!”

Her voice rang inside your skull like a bell. Your body trembled, your lungs begged for air. The room was spinning.

You heard the guards murmuring, a distant hum. Someone dragged Mariene away, and the last thing you saw was her face twisting in panic as she screamed, thrashing uselessly against the arms that held her.

“YOU’RE JUST LIKE THEM! JUST LIKE THEM!”

The door slammed shut.

And then, silence.

You realized you were shaking from head to toe.

The bitter taste of bile burned your throat.

Your eyes drifted slowly across the office. The toppled chair. The scattered papers.

“Take her to the pit,” Rune ordered the guards before stepping closer. “Are you alright?”

You flinched at first, until you checked his face and made sure of who he was—the man trying to touch your face.

“She attacked you? Shit. Shit,” he muttered, tilting your chin from side to side. “In her last sessions, I offered to gradually lower her medication, and I messed up by doing that. I apologize.”

You locked eyes with Dr. Rune’s distressed gaze for a few seconds—he truly believed Mariene had done this, and her condition made that version easier to accept. You hated lying, but if you told him what had really happened, he would hardly believe you were being affected by the supposed curse on Grimshade’s grounds.

Rune already doubted your sanity; you couldn’t afford to give him more reason now.

You were not Grimshade.

Noah was wrong.

A sudden surge of anger made you yank his hand away from your skin.

“I’m glad you recognize your terribly amateur conduct, Dr. Rune. Next time you interfere with the treatment of a patient whose records belong to me, I will report you to Dr. Steven. I hope you’re satisfied with the outcome of your ridiculous experiment!”

You spat the words and struck his arm before walking away.

You were definitely not going crazy.

You were not going crazy.

You were not going crazy.

You were not going crazy.

You were not going crazy.

You were not—

A sudden need to understand where the hell your feet were planted surged within you—one that should have unsettled your mind long before you threw yourself headfirst into the troubles of Blackridge and Grimshade Asylum.

What was this island, and why did Noah speak about it in that way, despite it being his home since birth? Why did he have such an aversion to his own house that he preferred to stay in this place? Why did he choose to remain in an asylum he openly admitted could drain the sanity of even the most lucid creature that set foot there?

Who were the Blackridge family, and why were they worse than a stay in the dreaded Grimshade?

There was no better way to explore the region than with another walk through the city.

The city looked like a forgotten Victorian painting.

Narrow cobbled streets, old architecture with steep rooftops and arched windows. The scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the woody aroma of spices and burning incense.

You walked among the market stalls, where raised voices blended with the sharp clinking of coins exchanging hands. Vendors competed for the attention of passersby, offering vibrantly colored fruits, cuts of meat displayed on wooden tables, aged cheeses, and embroidered fabrics adorned with arcane symbols.

Nearby, a group of gypsy women danced to the scratchy sound of a violin. The shimmer of their colorful skirts rippled through the air, the bells on their ankles jingling with every movement.

There was something peculiar in the air. A disturbing sensation, as if you were being watched.

You turned a corner into a narrow alleyway, but before you could react, a bony hand gripped your wrist firmly.

"You."

The voice was rough, scraped by time.

The woman before you had dull, faded blue eyes and skin etched with deep wrinkles, like ancient parchment. Her fingers were thin as dry branches, adorned with darkened silver rings. The scent of sandalwood and damp earth wafted from her dark robes, which swayed lightly in the wind.

“Let me see your hand.”

You instinctively yanked your arm back.

"I don't believe in these things."

She smiled, revealing yellowed, crooked teeth.

"You don't need to believe for it to be real."

Before you could step away, she seized your hand by force.

A shiver ripped down your spine.

Time seemed to slow.

Her fingers traced the lines on your palm, eyes narrowing as if trying to see beyond the visible. For a moment, the noise of the market vanished, the entire world reduced to the icy touch of that woman.

Then, her face twisted into a strange grimace.

Her skin seemed to pale, and her lips parted as if to say something—but she only took a sharp breath, abruptly releasing your hand.

You felt unbearable tension in the air.

"What is it?" Your own voice trembled.

The old woman simply stared at you. The cloudy blue of her eyes seemed… distressed.

She leaned in a little closer and, in a whisper as sharp as shattered glass, said only one thing:

"You need to wake up."

And then, without waiting for a response, she turned and disappeared into the crowd.

You stood frozen, your heart hammering in your chest.

The cold of her touch still felt imprinted on your skin.

You shook your head, scattering the thought and its insignificance. You hardly cared about predictions of the future. Nothing unproven by science had the power to convince you of anything.

Back on the other side of the market, you wandered past the stalls, observing how, despite their rich culture reflected in the creativity of their arts, the people were humble and struggled to get by with the little money they had, given the high cost of food. There were no factories or businesses providing jobs for the population, making it impossible for them to prioritize anything beyond survival.

They lived in absolute misery, one they felt compelled to disguise in a manner you found almost grotesque—decorating the city, sculpting, dancing, drinking, and ignoring the harsh reality. But you could still see the cracks along the edges.

"Would you like an apple, miss?" a quiet voice asked.

You turned and came face to face with a child, his face smudged with dirt, holding a bright red apple in his small hand.

"Thank you." You accepted it, placing a bill back in his palm. "How old are you?"

"I'm eight," he said excitedly, tucking the money into a tattered box beside him.

"It must be fun working at the market… I guess," your voice nearly faltered at the ridiculous remark. "But you should be in school."

The boy let out a brief laugh.

"Mom said school is for rich people. They can read and write too. It must be fun." He shrugged, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. "You look like someone who went to one."

You took a deep breath, looking away for a moment.

"Yes… I did."

"That's amazing!" He smiled.

Entire generations of those people had grown used to that miserable life—yet they were still grateful for it.

"Do you like living here? In Blackridge?"

"Why wouldn't I?" He frowned, confused. "We have food, clean water… Mom and Dad know how to make good potions when we get sick. The Blackridges always let us keep the leftovers from the banquets in that huge mansion. We're excited for the wedding…"

His voice carried genuine excitement, but you felt your stomach turn.

"There will be a lot of good things left over."

"I imagine so…" you murmured, feeling the weight of those words.

The boy, however, quickly got distracted, waving at a middle-aged woman approaching, eyeing the fruit with a critical look.

"Hey, Fiona! How are you?"

She didn't reply immediately, just scanned what was for sale.

"We set aside the best for you today," the boy continued enthusiastically. "I hope Mr. Blackridge approves."

The name made your body tense instantly.

Out of the corner of your eye, you studied the woman: long hair tied in a low bun, an entirely black uniform, pale—almost sickly—skin, and an expression of someone who could faint at any moment.

A servant of the island’s owners.

"I hope so," the woman muttered in a harsh voice. "Lately, they've only been sending me garbage."

She picked up a few fruits, dividing the bags between her arms, and left without looking back. You flashed a quick smile at the boy before following Fiona at a slow pace. There was no plan in mind—just curiosity about how far this would go. But above all, you needed to find a way to get close to the grumpy old woman.

Fiona didn't stop at any other stall, and you realized there were no natural opportunities to start a conversation. Unless…

"Oh, damn… I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do that," you murmured in a falsely regretful tone, bending down to pick up the bags that had accidentally fallen.

"Leave that, girl," she snapped immediately, curt. "My employers inspect everything that comes from outside before touching it. They wouldn’t eat anything bruised."

"Well… I can go back and pick new ones for you."

"Don't waste your time," Fiona retorted, her eyes analyzing you with veiled suspicion.

"Sorry for the approach, I was heading to Blackridge Manor…" you improvised, scanning the surroundings for inspiration. "My friend didn't give me the right address, I think I got lost. Could you help me find the trail back?"

Her brow furrowed, and an unpleasant knot formed in your stomach.

"You know Miss Cianan?" Fiona asked, clearly suspicious.

"We're college friends," you said, shrugging. "I wanted to congratulate her on the wedding."

"That's strange…"

Shit. Shit. Shit.

What a terrible excuse.

"I know all of Miss Cianan’s friends… and as familiar as you look, I don't remember ever seeing your face."

"Understandable," you replied, keeping your composure. "But you can call her now and ask if you want. I just don't think she'd be too happy to find out I'm going through this kind of situation. We're pretty close."

Fiona cleared her throat, maintaining her rigid posture before abruptly turning away.

"Let's go."

You feigned a subtle smile and followed her, trying to appear as natural as possible. Each step echoed in your mind like a countdown to the moment Fiona might realize your lie.

The woman walked with mechanical precision, her body upright as if carrying an invisible burden beyond the bags. No hesitation, no glances back. Only the sound of hard shoes against the stone ground.

You analyzed every detail about her, searching for any clue that might reveal more about her position within the Blackridge mansion.

When they finally turned a corner and moved away from the bustling market, Fiona spoke without taking her eyes off the path: "If Mr. Blackridge finds out I brought a stranger in without informing him, he'll blame me for it."

You kept your expression calm. "He won't."

Fiona let out a dry sound, almost a humorless laugh.

When the mansion gates appeared ahead, a shiver ran down your spine. They were immense, made of black iron, adorned with intricate arabesques resembling sharp claws. At the top, two raven statues watched over the entrance, as if they were sentinels of an ancient secret. Fiona extended her hand and pushed the gates open, their slow creaking sound protesting against your presence.

The garden revealed itself as a private kingdom of melancholic beauty. Dark roses and lilacs grew in untamed flower beds, among gothic statues of angels with tragic expressions and stone gargoyles covered in moss. Mist crawled over the ground like pale fingers, enveloping dry trunks and marble fountains worn by time. In the center of the garden, an ancient fountain lay empty, its sculpture of a hooded woman leaning over the edge, as if mourning something lost centuries ago.

The mansion was not just a home—it was a castle ripped from another era and transplanted into modernity. Its pointed towers defied the sky, its arched windows reflected the few remnants of light escaping the mist. The façade was of dark stone, almost black, as if time had tried to consume it but failed. There was grandeur in the structure, but also a coldness, a silent warning that this place did not belong to the present.

"It's more... beautiful than I imagined," you murmured, looking at the tall windows, where heavy velvet curtains remained drawn.

You climbed the stone staircase leading to the main entrance. The marble floor was damp from the drizzle, and each step felt like an invitation to another world. The door was a masterpiece—solid wood, carved with ancient symbols you didn’t recognize, flanked by two lit torches. The flames flickered in the wind, casting dancing shadows into the darkness.

As soon as you approached, the door creaked open on its own, revealing a long corridor illuminated by candelabras and crystal chandeliers. The air inside was dense, filled with the ancient scent of aged wood and burning candles.

Crossing the threshold, you felt as though you had stepped through an invisible border. As if, from that moment on, nothing outside existed anymore.

"Miss Cianan is not home, and you'll have to wait if you want to see her," Fiona said while adjusting a flower vase at the center of a small table. "Or you can return another time and leave a message. If you're college friends, I recommend finding her on campus. The Blackridges don’t like to receive... visitors."

In reality, Mr. Blackridge didn’t like to receive visitors, but why? You ignored that subtle detail, the one where the maid made her burning fear of her master obvious, since you weren’t there for the girl. Fiona seemed far more interesting.

"Have you worked here for a long time?" Your question came out as innocently as possible, and she glanced at you from the side.

"Yes. I've watched them all grow up. My employers never liked the children getting close to the staff, but they ignored it."

Direct and precise.

"You must have a special fondness for them... it's normal when you spend so much time with children." Your voice held a neutral interest, and she didn’t seem to notice.

"Yes, I started working here when I was very young, and they were like dolls to a teenager." She gave a straight smile as she continued down the corridor, and you followed. "My employers were rarely home, and I grew attached to the children. I brushed their teeth, put them to bed, and knew every allergy and whim."

"Did you never have the chance to build a family beyond this one?"

"My work was always enough." She cut you off, and you felt it.

Fiona walked past the kitchen island and watched the staff work on what you assumed was dinner. There were many of them, moving with the urgency of a professional kitchen. It smelled good. Roasted chicken and potatoes.

The rigid-postured woman crossed the back door, and you followed her into a garden so vast it could easily be mistaken for a university campus. However, there was no sign of life there. No birds cut through the sky, no insects buzzed among the leaves—because there were no leaves. Everything was gray, dry, dead. The heavy scent in the air was reminiscent of a cemetery, as if that soil had housed more bodies than flowers.

With the evident closeness between her and the siblings, and the affectionate way she spoke of them—even with her voice laden with coldness—it was clear that her bond with the two was much stronger than any ties they had with their own parents.

"And they, without a doubt, became fond of you too..."

"They were well-mannered children, dedicated to their studies, disciplined... and they had generous hearts. It was impossible not to like them."

"I imagine... Cianan is an amazing girl, sweet... and she always speaks very highly of Noah. I mean, of the relationship they had before everything happened," you said, trying to sound natural.

Fiona let out a deep sigh but did not respond. She kept walking with her hands behind her back, crossing the silent garden. You followed her pace, observing the surroundings until you both entered through a glass door that led to an isolated wing of the mansion. The corridor was lined with doors and filled with the movement of employees coming and going. You frowned, intrigued, but continued following her without question.

Fiona stepped through one of the doors, revealing a small and simple room: a bed, a wardrobe with a few pieces of clothing, and nothing beyond the essentials. Without a word, she opened the wardrobe, took out a box, and sat on the bed, patting the mattress beside her in a silent invitation.

Hesitant, you sat next to her. There was something strange about her. Despite the cold demeanor, Fiona exuded a disconcerting familiarity… almost comforting. In a way, she was helping you, even if indirectly.

For a brief moment, you dared to think that Fiona was just a lonely person looking for someone to talk to. She seemed unaccustomed to being heard, and perhaps that was what intrigued her the most: for the first time, someone was showing a genuine interest in her life.

You watched her rummage through the box, the rustling of papers filling the room's silence. Fiona was focused, searching for something specific, her eyes fixed on the contents before her.

Then, unintentionally, your attention shifted to her wrists. The sleeves of her blouse slid up slightly as she moved, revealing the skin beneath. You blinked, surprised, feeling a strange chill run down your spine as you noticed the marks there.

You felt the blood freeze in your veins. The sight of the marks on Fiona's wrist made your stomach turn, as if the reality around you bent at an impossible angle. They were identical. The same shape. The same depth. As if someone had passed chains through them and tightened until they left a permanent reminder.

Fiona noticed your gaze and quickly pulled the sleeve down, hiding the scars beneath the thin fabric.

"Did you see something interesting?" she asked, her voice laden with an artificial calm, almost rehearsed.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Your heart pounded in your chest, and your mind filled with questions that seemed to swallow one another. How did she have those marks? Why were they the same as yours? What did this mean?

Fiona resumed searching through the items in the box as if nothing had happened, but you could no longer focus on what she was doing. The environment around you seemed to change. The warmth of the candles became suffocating, the shadows in the room's corners stretched in a strange way, almost as if they were watching.

"Here it is!" She smirked slightly as she handed you a stack of photos. You flipped through them, running your finger over each one.

Photos of ordinary children, cute and smiling, doing childlike things.

Fiona let out a deep sigh before continuing, her expression heavy with distant memories.

"Noah was always a good boy," she repeated, as if reaffirming something to herself. "He had his rebellious side, of course—impulsive, mischievous like any boy his age—but in the end, he always returned to being the same sweet child. He had that angelic aura… quiet, observant. It always helped him get what he wanted. But above all, he wanted to help others, wanted lots of friends, wanted everyone to be okay..."

She smiled faintly, shaking her head as if laughing at a memory.

"He taught me how to read, just so I could tell him bedtime stories. Even when he was older, he still insisted on it."

The tenderness in her voice when she spoke of him contrasted with the weight in the air. You swallowed hard, feeling an uncomfortable knot form in your throat.

"The way you talk about him..." you hesitated before finishing. "It sounds like he's dead."

The softness vanished from Fiona's face, replaced by a cold and cutting expression.

"Because he is."

The silence was so heavy it seemed to compress the space around you.

"Dishonor is a grave sin," she said, firmly. "He dishonored his own family by defying what his father decided. He did that... with the girl..."

She didn’t need to finish the sentence for you to feel the weight of her words.

"I had to bring you here because I figured sooner or later, our conversation would get to him. But Noah’s name is forbidden in this house. My employers would rather speak the name of the devil than remember that he was once their son."

You felt a tightness in your chest, instinctively massaging the spot.

"That's terrible."

Fiona didn’t respond, she just looked away at the photos in the box, as if searching for something among them. You seized the opportunity to press on.

"On the other hand, Miss Cianan was always the complete opposite," Fiona commented, her voice heavy with nostalgia. "An angel. Good, with a pure heart and a clean soul. She was always simple, never knew anything bad in life... Poor girl."

You tilted your head slightly, observing her expression.

"She always said Noah was super protective of her."

Fiona sighed, diverting her gaze to the photos she was holding, as if looking for something that could support her memories.

"Yes," she murmured. "He protected her with an almost uncontrollable fury. Sometimes, it felt like he was the father and she was the daughter. Noah guarded Cianan like a true animal, fierce and impenetrable. That made them inseparable, as if they were one."

She paused, her fingertips gliding over one of the photos before continuing:

"Cianan never left his side, so I found it strange she came here. She never had many friends. Noah was always the center of everything in her life."

Then, with a hint of bitterness in her voice, she added:

"I dare say that even when Noah was upset, Cianan was the only one who came out unscathed."

Her fingers kept gliding over the photos, passing through birthdays, school games, the first baby tooth that fell, many meaningful moments, until they stopped on the last image. Her eyes widened slightly, trying to hide the surprise. Her finger traced the face of the child, recognizing every feature, all still the same.

"Unlike Julian..." she commented.

"Julian?" you repeated, your voice trembling.

"Yes, the eldest son," she replied. "He was always different from the other two, taller, more mature, and cold. He didn’t like physical contact, did everything on his own, and always isolated himself. Julian fit more with the Blackridge profile. He treated the staff as if they were inferior, was proud, selfish... didn’t even like eating with his siblings."

With every word, your chest tightened, and your vision began to blur, replacing the images of smiling children with colorful spots.

"I... I never heard of Julian," you said, frozen.

"We called him Julian, but his name is Travis," she confirmed.

The photos slipped from her fingers and fell into your lap.

"Travis Julian Blackridge Rune."

⭑ @bloody-spades ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lacy1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline​ ; @just-randomm-stuff ; @do-it-jakey-baby ; @flowery-mess ; @youcanreadmy-mind ; @tikosblogg ; @gothic-pumpkin ; @badomensls ; @themorticians-world ;

[loganslowdown4]

‘I thought I was your hero’

‘You are!’

Incoming Long Roman Theory…

❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍

Rewatching POF and Roman’s struggle with questioning what cThomas really believes based on what Janus implied made me realize something about how we look at the word ‘HERO’ in Roman’s vocabulary. I don’t think Roman has ever meant ‘hero’ in the swashbuckling, saving people, fighting villains, heroic sense (even though he acts like it and I’m sure casts himself that way in the imagination). WHAT HE ACTUALLY MEANS when Roman asked if he is a HERO, is if he is still the FACE or embodiment of how Thomas presents himself as a ‘hero’ in real life: aka a morally upstanding person.

In POF, Patton and Roman discuss why we have morals and how we use them to do good in the world. It is important to note that this episode was mainly a discussion between Patton and Roman for a reason: because if Patton is the moral BRAIN behind all Thomas’ decisions, then Roman is the FACE of all the moral decisions Patton makes. He follows Patton’s lead and acts as the ‘hero’ (and this is what the ego really does). So as the ‘FACE’ of Thomas, any actions taken means Roman is the one getting all the praise first hand, but is also taking the brunt of the criticisms too. For example, when Thomas went to that musical audition and forgot the words to the music, Roman hid. He was a ‘bruised ego’, getting the brunt of the criticism (or what he thought was worse than actually was). Roman has called himself a knight, a warrior, and a big reason why is that he faces all ‘battles’ of Thomas’ head on. It’s not just for the charming fairytale fanciful aesthetic (maybe it started that way). But I believe Roman’s character has developed into this complexity.

Roman’s role is to protect Thomas not only from objective criticisms, but also from failures of a moral decision. It explains why it was Roman who ultimately made the call to go to the wedding and not the callback. Even though Patton lost that debate in the courtroom, Roman knew that the morally correct decision was always to go support Thomas’ friends. He stood up and was the hero Patton and Thomas needed, despite any other disagreements or backlash. He knew that there was risk in this decision either way and it took a lot of strength to make that choice.

Here, Roman, saying that it was his fault for making the decision difficult to go to the wedding or callback, shows his willingness to take the brunt of any criticism, ultimately being the hero. He’s a drama king for real, but Thomas knew it wasn’t Roman’s fault for making the decision hard or even making the decision in the first place, and said so. Still, Roman tries because if it helps makes Thomas feel better, he’s willing to do it.

Another thing I need to point out: Roman getting upset when Patton said when doing anything charitable or morally correct, you can’t take ANYTHING away from it, including self-satisfaction or PRIDE. Roman is literally Thomas’ PRIDE and EGO. Denying Roman his pride, when he is constantly working to keep all of them safe from criticism, means he’s not allowed to be at all satified by the GOOD MORAL WORK he does do. It’s no wonder it felt unfair to him.

Finally, when Janus criticized the moral standard that Patton and Roman are trying to have Thomas live up to, Roman was personally offended. He has been doing his best to show the world that Thomas is a good person (which he is).

Here, when Roman is questioning how selfish Thomas will be before he feels ‘satisfied’ he says ‘you’ll have us believe that that time will never come’ which means that doing ANYTHING morally good, even the bare minimum, will deserve a reward, self-satifaction and more selfish time spent. This change in moral trajectory goes against what Roman has worked so hard for, following Patton’s lead and making those sacrifices. At the end, Patton’s main goal was changed to keep Thomas happy, which looked like he basically gave up and switched allegiance to Janus’ new plan. Does this mean Janus is the new ‘face’ of how Thomas presents himself and not Roman? THIS is why Roman left like he did; it felt like a betrayal.

There’s a lot unresolved and a lot that Thomas has to work out with Roman. But ultimately, Roman will always be a hero. He’ll be Thomas’ hero. Because he’s the one that makes Thomas a hero to everyone else. Time will tell and we shall see!

[destiny-smasher]

What do you like about Nemona

Gahhh, fuck me, that's a bit hard to summarize.

But I have been meaning to do a write up to explain it to people in my personal life. Maybe this is a good excuse to get around to doing so. I'll try to cover the important stuff while not getting as deep into specifics as I honestly could. It'll still be an informal short essay, though, lol

In Pokemon SV, the player enrolls in a fancy Academy on a remote island nation of sorts (inspired by Spain). They meet Nemona after choosing their starter Pokemon, and Nemona offers to the school's director to adopt a starter herself to 'coach/mentor' the player character. You see, unlike any other 'rival trainer' before her, Nemona is already a Champion. Before your character sets foot in the Paldea region, Nemona has already gone through the entire song and dance of Gym Battles and all that, and attained the highest rank a trainer can in the region. She's completely obsessed with Pokemon battling and has become bored of being 'the best' because no one wants to battle her, for various reasons. So she views you, a newcomer, as an opportunity to test herself as a 'mentor/senpai/big sis' figure as well as essentially 'New Game+-ing' herself for sheer love of the game that is Pokemon battling.

People consistently call her 'the girl Goku', but I ain't seen Dragonball Z, so I can't comment on that much. But she is a very enthusiastic, cheerful, determined, battle hungry person who is very into self-growth and self-improvement. At the end of the day, she wants a true rival, someone she doesn't need to hold back with, and who she can look to as a consistent figure in her life. She is very eager and hyperactive about connecting with people through battling.

A lot of people who play the game get offput by her, and she gets branded as a 'yandere' archetype (ie obsessed with the player character to a horror-inducing degree). She gets meme'd as being 'creepy' and 'obsessed' and all that, depicting her eagerness as mental illness and a bad thing.

(gif from a fan animation)

When her behavior stems from positive emotions and a desire for mutual growth and connection, not specifically ownership or possession -- to Nemona, a person who just obeyed whatever she would want of them would defeat the point. That's not what a rival does -- they push back, after all. Within the context of the SV plotline, she is bored of being Champion all by herself, and wants to train someone else to reach her same level, which is why she is so invested in you, the player character, following you around everywhere and being that 'big sis' archetype. There's some selfishness in there, for sure -- she wants a proper rival for herself, someone she never has to hold back with -- but given her social obligations and reputation within the Academy/region, she also I think wants to prove she is capable of handling herself as a mentor figure, prove to herself that she didn't become a Champion by luck or accident (if she can help someone else do what she did, then it wasn't just a fluke, she really does know what she's doing, etc.), and also help prove to her fellow students that she's really not as intimidating as they think she is.

And yet, people both in AND out of the game are quick to write this intense, protective behavior off as 'insane' and 'creepy' -- and as someone who very regularly got called a 'creep' through to the end of college for literally just trying to make friends,' I almost take it personally when I see people label Nemona as a 'yandere' type. It has its comical use and all but I still find it kind of hurtful in a way.

(Art by MagDraws)

Because that's the thing -- if you pay attention to what little story there is in SV (it's not exactly a complex narrative), Nemona's character is essentially a metaphor for neurodivergent/queer people who have hearts bursting with affection and passion for their hobbies yet who struggle with loneliness and isolation as they put off most people from keeping them around.

But at the end of the day, Nemona is just neurodivergent, her special interest is Pokemon battling, and she is simply desperate for human connection -- and battles are just the way she feels most comfortable doing that.

And the world would be a better place if people like me or Nemona were able to become self aware at a young enough age to start managing our behavior, (which she is shown to be learning to do!) while ALSO having a general population that is more open-minded and understanding to the idea that 'oh huh that person's brain is electrically overcharged and they love people and hobbies maybe way way more than I do but that's FINE as long as they're not hurting anyone'

As a youth, I just... kinda got great grades, made honor roll, etc. And it felt like I wasn't really trying? So adults around me thought I was 'gifted', or 'naturally talented'. But in reality, I think I was just neurodivergent, and since I struggled to make friends, and physically wasn't able to see them outside of school due to various factors, I just... ended up focusing on my schoolwork instead. So that's one way I relate with her retroactively -- she is a model student, yet ironically has a bad reputation amongst many.

(HOWEVER, Nemona comes from a RICH family and I came from a poor one, there was some big racial tension dynamics at play in my early gradeschool years, familial breakup shit, soooo there's some very different dynamics at play there)

Another thing I adore about her and connect with in a way no one else in my life does -- she loves one-on-one competitions with others through battles. I don't love physically fighting people, I'm a super non-violent person in reality. But I love fighting games, it's my favorite genre. And there's specific philosophical elements to enjoying fighting games that I think most people don't click with that she and I do.

She is here to GROW, to learn, to improve, to have fun regardless of winning or losing, because the act of spending time engaged with another person, figuring each other out, testing yourselves mutually, is enjoyable and edifying regardless.

That 'warrior's path' of self improvement and enjoyment and growth regardless of the outcome of battle is something I very much connect with and it's great to see a character who feels likewise while also having elements of interpersonal struggles in spite of or even because of the way she functions differently than other people. Again, I don't know much about Goku, but I get the impression he is good at making and keeping friends, while Nemona is bad at it.

On top of this, Nemona has extra wrinkles to her character -- she's physically disabled. The game is vague about it, as Pokemon always is. But she wears an arm brace because she throws a LOT of pokeballs with all the battling she does, and she seems to have some kind of issue there, physically. Also, despite how GOOD she is at battling, she is terrible at catching Pokemon, and seemingly at doing the exploration aspects of being a trainer. She canonically has poor stamina and wears herself out easily -- which, given how high-energy she is as a person, probably happens constantly. So it's also strongly suggested that she spends time not just training all of her Pokemon (she juggles multiple teams, yet another fighting-game esque thing I relate with, as I tend to juggle many characters and not stick to a single main or team), but she also trains herself, physically, to try and keep up with her 'mons, but also as a means of self-growth/improvement in general.

I won't post the examples but trust me, there are many subtle but intentional nods alluding to her being physically disabled, and being BAD at core elements of what we expect a Pokemon trainer to be -- exploring the wilderness, catching Pokemon, etc. But she's so passionate about it, she doesn't let her limitations stop her,

So it creates an interesting internal tension imo because she is not only very queer coded, very neurodiverse coded, but ALSO disabled coded. But she hides her internal struggles by essentially avoiding having to confront them, generally speaking (which itself is ripe for narrative development). Sadly, the game never brings this to a head in way (it's Pokemon, so of course it doesn't). But the ingredients are all there, especially when you add characters like Penny, Arven, and Scarlet into account -- as well as implied expectations from her rich family, or from the leader of Paldea, Geeta, who implies she wants Nemona to be her protege. And I haven't even mentioned that Nemona is Class President, meaning she's actively taking on social responsibility for her peers even though she gets shit talked behind her back for being so obsessed with battling and getting in people's faces with her over-eager desire to bond with/battle them.

This right here -- this is the specific core element of her character I personally connect with that, somehow, no fictional character I've met so far has put into the exact right words with enough context for me to believe them.

From my youth to even now as a full grown adult, I have experienced this feeling my entire life, whether with family, at school, at the workplace, even in most online spaces -- an 'invisible wall' between me and everyone else, and for a VERY LONG TIME I had convinced myself it was because something about me was 'broken' and 'not right'. But now, in part thanks to characters like Nemona, and the discussions around/about said characters, I can see that my brain just functions differently from other people, and a I grow and self-teach myself how to manage my own behaviors/expectations, I can better appreciate all kinds of relationships in life without needing to let go of or sacrifice that internal flame that used to threaten to consume most people I cared about -- that fear of being 'too much' or 'too intense' in my own ways (ways better expressed through text interaction than in person, to be fair, but again, MOST of my social life has been online my entire life, so yeah).

Like Nemona, I found people in my life who accept me for who I am, and blablabla all that cliche shit. But in Nemona, as I do with a rare few other characters in media (Vi from Arcane, Luz from The Owl House), I see a specific element of myself I don't elsewhere, and sadly did not see often growing up. A balance between ferocity and determination paired with unending affection and love. A desire to never give up on people, no matter what, and to be open to change both internal and in others. In Nemona's case, specifically, that element of neurodiverse passion matched with sheer loneliness -- that 'invisible wall'.

No matter what, she never gives up, in battles or socially.

I could go on into specific examples but I've said enough here to get the ideas across, I'm sure.

Oh, and as a sidenote, I think she has a great character design -- it's SIMPLE but recognizeable. The combo of color-coded gear (red/white/black, my favorite outfit color scheme), a arm brace, and accented hair. Her design feels like a plausible human being, but with a bit of 'anime bangs' syndrome.

I should probably mention -- I don't like Pokemon SV as a video game! I am like 160k words of fanfiction into telling a Pokemon story and I think the game itself is stinky garbage barely holding itself together with duct tape and a corporate prayer.

But unlike any other generation of the franchise, Pokemon SV presents a cast of characters with defined personality strengths, weaknesses, and varied backstories, who start the game as strangers, and by the end begin to dip their toes into 'found family' territory. For the first time in the entire franchise, I actually give a shit about the characters, about seeing them grow and connect with each other, because the overarching theme of SV's story, what little it has, is about isolation, outcasts, loneliness, and how found families form.

And Nemona's kind of the heart of all of that, the endlessly hopeful, energetic, eager one that will never give up on you, that irrationally throws affection at you, seemingly for no 'good reason' -- because just being a person who tolerates her and her 'too much'-ness is itself reason to be grateful for your presence in a world where she feels isolated from most everyone else simply by being herself.

Maybe this answers your question!

[sukunasun]

Do you ever plan to write a fic with a grumpy reader? Maybe with Getou or any chara of your choice?

screaming from the top of a building: grumpy readers are so relatable and deserve more nuance than being labelled as ice queens and stone-cold bitches! there is much more to unfold beyond the harsh exterior. how cantankerous and irritable you are but nonetheless meant to be understood and loved.

quietly, you lay there stowing away as a recluse. you love your books and your crochet hooks. working away and making the most of me-time. people don't draw near. instead, they try prodding with sticks and hurtling stones for a reaction hoping it's a smile or a nice conversation between two, but there is no gambling and taking chances. no risking it 'depending on your mood' because the weather report calls for sunny skies and yet, the storming grey cloud above your head stays looming. permanently brewing.

you claim it's just your face, your attitude, and overall unapproachable aura that inhibits you from making contacts and connections. an RBF that can't be cracked. "she's so intimidating," is a grating sound. you have long since given up on explaining yourself or waiting for the chance to when the backstory and lore is too revealing. not exactly dinner party talk. you wish it could be as easy as saying "im hurt and heartbroken beyond repair. mothering fear and angst without needing comfort." it feels nice, well-deserved even to wallow in dread.

there's bound to be disappointment from unmet expectations thus, you've stopped having them altogether. it feels better than accepting affection with open arms. so wrong, so weird to be wanted, to be chosen. where's the catch? when will the other shoe drop? the cycle of starting over becomes tiring, tedious—a mechanical performance. a complex creature who requires better coping mechanisms and a man who won't stab you in the back. friends who'd stop poking holes in the reasons when you say no, yet again, to meeting someone new in this state: when bricks are laid and piled high up in uniformed rows surrounding, it warrants avoiding all forms of showing and receiving love after the years spent shaping the architecture of your defences.

then there's geto. with his charm and wit and the way he pries the person from underneath facades and fabricated masks. your fragile, rocking foundations built on sand he topples down with a mere smile, hardened fortitudes he crushes to dust, weaving within hairline cracks and exploring the caverns of your heart like no one has before. all without much effort, or rather, he doesn't need to exert himself when you fall so willingly.

"why don't we do something else tonight, dinner and a movie?" he questions when you call again. right after work when the stress is at an all-time high and he's...well, you don't know what he does, but he makes himself available for you. he'll admit it's made him feel special being the only person let in, when everyone else has to scavenge for scraps, he's a privileged selected one. seen the glimpses of the warmth you possess when laid bare and sated.

such a skill he has to wring out the truth. still, you go on with the "i like being alone," answer. a mantra, a repetitive hymn to soothe the sting and sharp clawing against the chest til it no longer feels so. numb and sore aches it leaves behind. 'you'll regret it when you realize i'm too much for you,' stays clogged in your throat. he'd only admonish you for such thoughts. 'that's not true' he'd say, but you know better than to believe that.

"i get it," geto replies, feigning casualness when he's not a stranger to isolation and avoidant habits. sometimes he wished he wasn't exposed to a mirror of his own makeup. a paragon of performative indifference and detachment. "i'll leave when you want me to," he reassures you, but was that a wavering you hear in his voice? you don't dare assume because he makes things easy. not the kind to complicate, nor commit. say the word and he'd give you all the solitude you need. dodging the serious questions and serious labels. friend, boyfriend, guy-im-sleeping-with. he doesn't care for them because you don't.

maybe he's just referring to the task at hand, used to forgoing aftercare and post-orgasm cuddles for a late-night drive home. excluding that one time you allowed him a night on your couch. he won't stay if your hand comes up to his sweaty chest, pushing him away before he's had the chance to pull out and slide the worn condom off. it keeps him at a distance and he takes it as a sign that this is as far as intimacy goes—no kissing on the lips, no secrets and sweet nothings, your moans don't escape and neither do his plethora of dirty speeches, stifled and gritting in a tight-lipped prison—there is no room for it at all.

the last thing you need is to dispose whatever is left of an already flimsy resolve. becoming vulnerable and exposed to his rejection or the knee-jerk reaction when he touches you—when the strap of your dress falls at an angle, he instinctively chases after the smooth slope of shoulder with his lips, pressing soft kisses there and everywhere else simmering with anxiety, humming pleased and contented to taste the nerves slipping away, sinking his teeth in and feeling the flesh give to his possession—a longing that courses through and wrenches around your heart tight. you're so selfish to follow after his hands, to feel them feel you. they should be upon another but he grabs and gropes greedily like he can't wait any longer.

"or you could let me stay," he offers.

"the couch makes your back hurt," you reply.

"your bed is big enough for two," he counterclaims. doing what he does best. it's not the first time he's tried to hint at more, waiting for the opportune moment when you're putty in his hands, relenting to him.

"we can't," you gasp when he slips two fingers past your dripping folds. the smirk he wears hidden in the crook of your neck. "why–" you claw at his forearm tucked between your thighs, clenching around his limb for leverage while he makes you squirm and jolt with every nudge against your gspot. "–why me?" why an unpleasant, unfriendly, unwanted woman like you, haven't you suffered enough? why does he choose to torment you with his favour while seeking for yours. you remind yourself there's no place, no space for him here. you like the way things are no matter how painfully lonely it gets, you like the cool touch of your sheets and the emptiness your fingers trail over in the mornings. it's what you know, what you settled for. since when do two people meet and see each other for themselves, choosing to stay for long after the thinly veiled ugliness is stripped away. how do you tell him you're starting to grow accustomed. almost adoring. you've flown too close to the sun before, how do you deal with the fallout when you're inevitably lurched into the suffocating and slow descent towards earth?

in the last few seconds cresting upon your climax, suguru feels it building around the edges of your jittering limbs. head lolling back as you choke, fighting back your moans. your hips thrust in time, chasing after his fingers. he settles them as deep as he can, pumping fast and pressing down against your clit til it hurts, til the hard pressure causes your juices to drip down his fingers, squelching and making a mess.

fuck it, he knows it's the only time you'll have him this close so his arms brace you, supported by his strong chest, crushed by his biceps, suguru coaxes you, "i don't care how far you push me, or how much you pretend, i want you and i know you want me too—"

you shake your head, resisting, stop it, stop uncovering me. he talks of your lust as if some incontrovertible proof, you won't give in. with indefatigable, unwavering effort you set the record straight. "i don't like you like that," lying right as you're about to explode from pleasure, not the kind that feels like a firework, shooting silent and bursting forth, but you seize every muscle in his hold. choking on your breaths and feeling it tighten and coil in your stomach, in your toes, compact and revving, it releases like an engine. rolling and roiling so unyieldingly it makes your ears ring, suffocating you til your vision goes black, and a scream forces it way past your lips.

neither high-pitched nor guttural, it reverberates so soothingly, "im sorry!" you cry. for being this way, for using and tossing him aside, for wanting more. you sob with your head thrown back while suguru hums right against your ear. sounding pleased and pleasured with your admission.

slowing his fingers in time with your panting breaths, he questions "do you really think i wouldn't like you?" it's not the right time to do this but he can hardly bear it, he longs for truth, "do you not believe me?"

looking upon his face through half-lidded eyes, you see that interrogative spark in his expression, his arms never letting go. a tense anticipation takes shape. the air is thick with the scent of damp skin and something else—his shampoo, his cologne, you chase after it for more, pressed into his chest, it only takes one whiff to get a fill, the same way you cling to the corners of pillowcases and duvet covers for that little bit.

what has changed? he makes you act a fool, forlorn and fumbling around in the most fatuous ways. i want you he said so clearly. and it warms your being like never before. there is an urge to make excuses, accuse him for being in lust, he only said it in the heat of the moment, ensnared by a need for possession.

but there is no point in looking back.

"i believe you," you say, noses bumping and slotting close when your lips betray your better judgement, or rather, your unfavourable one. "i'll try." is the best you can offer.

[phoward89]

Masterlist

Stepcest, Stepson!Coryo x Stepmother!Reader, Sub!Coriolanus, Switch!Reader, Crassus Snow x Younger!Reader

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Crassus Snow is a cold hearted asshole, but he's a hot asshole... Stepcest, older man/younger woman, arranged marriage, cheating, affairs, secrets, cussing, secret love child, Coryo is a bit selfish and too ambitious, Crassus decides to try and be a better husband/father

Part 4:

Dinner has just been served, so you're gathered around the dining room table with Grandma'am and Coriolanus. Crassus isn't home yet, but you're not worried about his absence. He'll be home any minute. He always walks in around the time dinner's served.

In fact, you're expecting to hear the door open and your husband's footsteps echo against the marble floor at any second. Like you've been hearing every single night around this time since you moved into the Snow penthouse; became a part of the Snow family.

You’re picking at your food with disinterest while listening to Coriolanus brag about the praise he received from Dr. Gaul during his internship earlier in the day.

“Dr. Gaul wants me to help her conduct an experiment on a new test subject.” Coriolanus smiled proudly, icy eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Oh, I hope it's nothing too ghastly. Some of those science experiments can be atrocious.” Grandma’am says while cutting her chicken with such grace. Truly, her manners were from a time once forgotten- a time of gentleman and cavaliers. “Why, I remember when I was a girl our science teacher made us dissect frogs. Can you believe that?”

And suddenly the sound of the phone ringing fills the air.

Ring, ring, ring…

“I'll get it.” You announce, removing your napkin from your lap before standing up.

Coriolanus just nods before telling Grandma'am, “Oh, Dr. Gaul won't be having me dissecting frogs. Her experiments are more complex than that.”

Yea, the mad scientist will probably be having him dissect the latest drugged and numbed body of a district test subject turned mutt.

Ring, ring, ring...

You quickly make your way into the sitting room, which was closer to the dining room and had a phone in it.

Ring, ring, ring…

“Hello, Snow residence. Mrs. Snow speaking.” You answer in the polite way you've been instructed to take phone calls for the family. Yes, the Snows are an old and highly regarded family so answering the phone has to be a polite and professional affair.

“Y/N, it's me. Crassus.” Your husband says over the phone. Of course, the phone in the sitting room isn't a video phone, but a simple standard phone, so you can't see his facial expressions.

The video phones are in the living room and in your husband's study. Why, who knows. You really don't care either. Not like you talk to a lot of people on the phone anyways.

Sadly, the few friends you had drifted away from you once you married Crassus shortly after graduating the Academy. Apparently, your ‘friends’ didn't want to associate with you anymore because your husband's a middle-aged man; a cold-hearted war hero. Yes, you suppose that your husband intimidated your ‘friends’ just by his presence and that's why they all drifted away.

Sometimes your brother calls you to check in, but, sadly, he's too busy with his life as an Officer in 12. And your mother rarely calls. You don't know why, but for some reason you being married and a mother doesn't quite sit well with her despite the fact that she signed off on your arranged marriage contract.

Your brow furrows at hearing your husband on the phone. Shouldn't he be on his way home right now?

And as if he could read your thoughts, Crassus tells you, “I’m calling because I'm going to be late for dinner.”

Why?

As if he heard your mental musing, he explains, “I let my secretary leave early. It's his anniversary and he's taking his wife out for dinner.”

Of course, your husband lets his secretary leave early to celebrate his anniversary while you've never celebrated an anniversary let alone a birthday with Crassus. Hell, the only reason you celebrate holidays with your husband's because they're federal and all of the government buildings are closed for them.

“So, I'm afraid I'm not quite sure what time-” Crassus began to say, only to cut himself off mid sentence when he heard you sniffling over the phone.

Crassus couldn't help, but feel as if he's the reason you're sniffling. He doesn't know why, but it sends a pang to his cold heart. He's sitting at his desk, clutching his phone; listening to your sniffles turn into soft sobs and he has no idea how to deal with it. Crassus isn't a man that's a natural comforter; in fact he's naturally stern and aloof.

“Petal?” Crassus asks, the new pet name slipping from his tongue before his mind could think better of it. Before he could utter your name.

Petal? Since when does your husband use pet names with you? Are you hallucinating? Is your baby blues making you hear things? Wiping your tears, due to your rollercoaster emotions brought on by the baby blues, you compose yourself and tell Crassus, “I'll have your plate placed in the oven for you. You can reheat it whenever you get home.”

You didn't even give Crassus a chance to respond, just told him, “I'll see you whenever you get home. Bye.”, before hanging up on him.

Instead of returning to the dining room, you opted to spend some time with your son in his nursery. Since Cassian's sleeping, you decide to just sit in the corner rocking chair while watching him.

Cassian was such a precious baby. Over the last few days he's started to settle easier; sleep a bit longer. He's a good baby; doesn't cry too much- just when he's hungry or his diaper’s soiled. Little Cassian Xandros is also a very happy baby. Even tho he's barely a week old, you swear he smiles at you every time his icy eyes (Snow eyes) lands on you- his mom.

You're not sure how long you've been in the nursery for, but you know it's been a while because Coriolanus enters the room with a frown maring his prominent and flawless face.

“You never came back to the dining room after answering the phone, mommy.” Coryo tells you, closing the door behind him and striding over to you.

“I wasn't hungry.” Is your excuse. Well, it wasn't an excuse per say. You truly did lose your appetite considering you were picking at your plate before Crassus even called. You're blaming that on the baby blues since you're feeling a bit melancholy.

“You can't skip meals, Y/N. You're a nursing mother; you need all the strength you can get to properly feed our son.” He chastises while towering over you.

Sighing, you remind your lover, “As far as legality’s concerned, Coryo, Cassian's my son with Crassus; he's his father while you're the older brother.”

Coriolanus' handsome face contorts as his baritone echoes out darkly, “Don't throw that minor inconvenience into my face. Despite what legal papers say I'm the baby's father and as his father I want what's best for him, which includes you eating properly in order to nurse him.”

The University student's berating sounds harsh to you. Perhaps it's because of your baby blues or perhaps it's because he's making you feel like he's attacking your abilities as a mother. But whatever the reason, his lecture has tears springing to your eyes. Tears that you just can't control.

Coriolanus' face skews up in bafflement. He can't understand why you're breaking down in tears over nothing. He's just having a conversation with you. And he's noticed that this isn’t the first time you've been weepy and dismal for no good reason.

Yes, over the last few days while coming and going from the penthouse, Coriolanus has noticed that you've been a sniffling, melancholic mess. But he can't figure out why. You have him and the baby he decided to give you, you should be happy- no, not just happy, but grateful for those things; not boo-hooing when you think you're all alone.

Frankly, the golden- haired devil with a halo of curls is tired of your tears. They have no merit. At least not in his mind.

Taking long, quick steps over to the baby's crib, your lover picks up the newborn, causing him to wake up with a loud wail of a cry, and storms over to you. Literally shoving the baby into your arms, Coryo callously orders, “Stop your mindless weeping.” As you soothe your baby, you're hiccuping while tears still continue to stain your cheeks. “You have me, who loves you, and the baby I gave you; there's no reason for you to be so out of sorts, mommy.” The platinum blonde tells you, trying to get you to see how unwarranted your cries are.

But before you can even explain that it's not your fault, that according to Grandma'am you have the baby blues, Coryo sees himself out of the room with the excuse that he was homework to do to ensure he's still the top of his graduating class.

When Crassus gets home, his mother's up and waiting for him. “Crassus, I'm appalled and ashamed that you never came home for dinner.” Grandma'am chastised her only living son as soon as he set foot in the main room of the penthouse, briefcase loosely clutched in his large hand.

“Mother-” The cold and stoic man begins, only for his mother to cut him off with a firm and motherly, “Don't mother me, Crassus Xanthos Snow. Not when you come home 2-hours later then you should; missing dinner and quality time with your family.”, while rising from her seat and marching over to her son with as much speed as her old arthritis filled bones will let her.

“I called Y/N and told her I'd be late. Didn't she relay my message?” Crassus asks- using the question as his defense against being late.

“She received the call while we were gathered in the dining room for dinner; she never returned after your call.”

Great…him coming home late made you so sad that you couldn't even rejoin the family for dinner. Were you crying so badly that you couldn't control it; that you felt the need to eat perhaps after everyone else was done as a way to hide your sadness from them? Oh, hell, did he screw up not coming home for dinner?

Fuck!

He's a horrible husband.

A horrible, shitty, cold-hearted husband that doesn't know how to treat his wife, who’s 2-decades younger than him. But, despite being a cold, indifferent husband towards you he doesn't want you crying at the drop of a hat and being sad.

His first wife seemed so happy to be Mrs. Snow; she even seemed to smile a bit brighter when she shoved him out the door for work- and that was back when he was stationed in District 12 as the Commander and only came home to his Corso penthouse in the Capitol on furloughs. How is it that his late wife, Demeter, was never saddened by his absence while you are? You both married him at similar ages, both knew what was expected of you- being a proper socialite housewife of the respected heir of an esteemed founding Capitolite family, so what was the difference between you and her? Why is it that you're a mess, crying your eyes out, because he's emotionally cold and unavailable while his first wife wasn't bothered by it; didn't seem to mind his cold-hearted and stern ways?

Were you more emotional because you took after your father, Javani, more than your mother, Helenium? Were you more of an introverted, kind-hearted, sunshine and roses type then he originally thought? He remembers that Javani Halvir, his late best friend and your father, was very introverted and only opened up around those he was truly comfortable with, that he truly didn't have a mean bone in his body- hence why he got along so easily with just about everyone he crossed paths with, and that he always looked on the sunny side of life.

Oh shit…

If you truly have a personality like your father's then your marriage to Crassus is probably slowly killing you since he's not doing anything to make you feel comfortable. Maybe he should've looked harder to find you a suitable match with somebody younger and less jaded? But, truthfully, Crassus jumped the gun and married you in fear of General Byzantine (the former Commander of 2 that was on the rebels' side of the war before siding with his friend Strabo Plinth and joining the Capitol against the rest of the rebellion and ending the siege around Capitol City) using Strabo Plinth’s money to seduce your mother's soul into allowing him to have your hand in marriage. He knew that Javani would roll over in his grave and haunt him from Elysian if Crassus let Byzantine get his grubby, lecherous hands on you.

Giving her son a motherly whack on the arm, the type all mothers use for scolding, Grandma'am gives Crassus a much needed lecture on his skills as a husband. “Crassus, I draw the line at you missing dinner tonight. You're not a very caring or attentive husband to Y/N and maybe before my new grandbaby came I could turn a blind eye to it, but I can't do it anymore. You need to be more understanding and considerate of your wife's feelings, Crassus. She's a new mother to Cassian; her entire life is now devoted to raising the child that you gifted her, she deserves a husband that at least pretends to care about her and his newborn then one that blatantly doesn't.”

“Mother-” Crassus tried to dig himself out of the hole that was his mother's scolding, but was cut off by her snapping, “Crassus, I'm ashamed at how you're treating your wife. Being a new mother's very taxing on her; she needs your support, even if it's just faux support.”

“My first wife wasn't like Y/N; she didn't need my attention and support so badly.” Crassus points out as a weak way of defending his shitty actions as a husband.

“Demeter, bless her heart and rest her soul, was nothing like Y/N.” Grandma'am told her son. Not waiting from him to make a reply, the elderly woman explained her remark with, “She was a youthful, vapid, vain girl that viewed joining our family by marrying you as a way to get out from under her parents thumb. According to Pluribus, she batted her eyes and powdered her nose at you while plopping herself down at your table while at his old nightclub. She wanted a marriage, but was too insipid to truly want anything past the successful husband and the perfect family that includes a male heir to coddle and spoil."

Grandma'am grew to care for her first daughter-in-law after living with her for so long, since Crassus didn't take her on base with him, but she never saw her as having what it took to be a true Snow. She always thought the young lady was lacking something since she always seemed a bit dull, despite being a gentle-soul.

“And Y/N’s like her father, Javani.” Crassus stated what he'd only just realized a few minutes earlier.

Grandma'am patted her son on the cheek, a small smile gracing her lips. “It took you long enough to see it, my boy.”

Now, in Grandma'am's opinion you have what it takes to be a Snow. You're a lovely girl, very well rounded. But she's afraid that if her son doesn't support you during your baby blues then you'll turn into a former shell of yourself.

Grandma'am, unlike you, had the support of her husband during her boughs of the baby blues. Hopefully she can get her son to be benevolent towards you.

After Crassus placed his briefcase in his study, he went to your shared bedroom only to discover that you weren't there. He knew that the only other place you could be was the nursery. He made a mental note to go to the nursery to see you once he was finished showering and dressing in a pair of fine silk pajamas.

So, that's why when you're in the middle of singing your son to sleep with a pre-Panem song that you remember your father tucking you into bed with before the war: Cat’s in the Cradle, Crassus walks into the room.

Your husband quickly realizes that you're smiling at the baby cradled in your arms as you softly sing to him. That you seem genuinely happy. Crassus can't help, but to wonder if the only time you're happy and not sad is when you're spending time with Cassian.

“And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon. Little boy blue and the man in the moon.”, You softly sing, only to be interrupted by your husband's deep voice saying, “I think he's asleep and it's time for you to join me in bed, petal.”

Nodding, you stand while holding the baby close to your chest. The sight reminds your husband of a fierce lioness with her cubs. “Did you get your dinner from the oven?” You ask while bringing your baby over to his crib.

“No.” Crassus shakes his head. “I thought-” He began, only to be cut off by you flatly telling him, “You should eat before going to bed, Crassus.” Placing Cassian into his crib, you add in the rhetorical question of, “It wouldn't be good for the breadwinner of the house to get sick from malnutrition, now would it?”

Crassus assumes that you ate once Grandma'am and Coriolanus were done eating in the dining room, so he doesn't ask you to join him in the kitchen for his meal of leftovers. No, instead he just nods and tells you that he'll join you in bed once he's done eating.

And when he does join you in your shared bed, well, you're already fast asleep. So, he quietly joins you in bed- making sure not to disturb you. Like his mother said, you're a new mother whose world revolves around your son; you need as much rest as you can get.

But as he lays his platinum curls on his pillow, he realizes that you look peaceful in your sleep. He can't honestly say that he's even seen you look so content before.

And for some reason, unknown to him, he wanted to see that look of tranquility on your face during waking hours as well.

Leo Davis stepped off the elevator and went over to his desk. He was 15 minutes late, but he did have a very passionate night celebrating his anniversary with his wife last night. A celebration that started at dinner and ended in the bedroom of their modest apartment that they're paying too much rent for. And as soon as he sat down at his desk, the door to his boss's office flew open.

Oh no, was he in trouble for being late? Crassus was always in the office way before the official start time of 9 o’clock, so did he know that Leo just arrived? The secretary was scared to death of being fired for being late as he watched his boss emerge from his office. The imposing man, who was well over 6 feet tall, walked over to his employee’s desk with his coffee mug in hand.

Coming to a stop at Leo's desk, Crassus took a sip of his coffee and asked, “So, Leo, how was your anniversary with your wife last night?”

Leo Davis nearly choked on his own spit. Since when does the General Crassus Snow want to know about his personal life? The man was always shutting down all attempts at conversation that even remotely seemed to steer towards personal things, such as family. If it wasn't about work, a coffee, or a good order then Crassus didn't talk about it.

“Well, did you have a nice time?” Crassus asked as Leo just looked at him wide-eyed, like a deer caught in headlights.

“Oh, yes, yes, we had a nice time.” Leo nods, nearly tripping over his tongue as he answers his boss. Holy hell, he still doesn't believe what's happening. That his boss is asking him about the details of his anniversary.

Deciding to not look a gift horse in the mouth, the secretary smiles and tells his boss the details of his night. Well, the details that are safe for work that is.

“You should bring your wife to Palace Arms for your anniversary. You'll have to make a reservation and it's located in the Denver Palace Hotel, but it's worth it for a special occasion.” Leo advised his boss, just to be friendly. Perhaps being friendly will get him a lesser workload. Eh, wishful thinking never hurt anyone.

Nodding, Crassus simply says, “I'll keep that in mind.” He knows that since he didn't do anything with you to celebrate your last anniversary that the he'll have to make up for his lack of interest with the upcoming one. So, he truly means it when he says he'll keep the prospect of taking you to the Palace Arms for your next anniversary in mind.

Before seeing you crying in the corner of your shared bedroom, Crassus would never ask for marital advice- and from a lowly employee as well, but now all he wants is to make you happy. He wants you to stop crying so much; wants you to stop being sad. He also wants to know what to do to change things, so that's why Crassus straight up asks his secretary, “Leo, how do you make your wife happy?”

“What?” Leo asks, wide-eyed and taken aback. Did his boss really just ask him that?

“My wife's been sad lately and since you seem to be on good terms with your wife, I was wondering, how do you make your wife happy?” Crassus asks, explaining his previous question in length, before taking another sip of his coffee.

“Um, I suppose I make my wife happy just by doing the little things for her.” Leo answers while wishing he didn't accidentally leave his travel mug of coffee at home on the kitchen counter. He could really use some right now.

“What are the little things you do for her?” Crassus asks, clearly oblivious to what ‘the little things' means. The man was cold, stern, and indifferent by nature. He wasn't one to make gestures out of care of love. So, yes, he really has no idea what his secretary's talking about.

And that was the moment that Leo Davis knew he was doomed to be General Crassus Snow’s personal marriage counselor/advisor. Oh, how the stars seemed to play a cosmic joke on him, huh?

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @princess-harvey @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress @nayveetbhh

[ladyrohann]

My BETTER CR in a 'Practical Magic' kind of way.

Life always felt softer when i spent my days in my granny's courtyard, when the weight of existence didnt feel so heavy on my shoulders and the bedtime stories didnt just end with sleep, they became real in my room. So thats where i went to when i felt everything was falling apart. The only place that ever made sense to me. Because my grandma's house has always been an special place. Literally and metaphorically too.

Everything began the day I dropped out of university after my second year, completely unmoored. I was tired (emotionally wrecked, if I’m honest) and when my grandmother gently suggested I spend some time with her, I didn’t hesitate. Neither did my parents who had seen me at my worst. It felt like the only thing that made sense. And to be honest the thought of being close again to my childhood friend, Lily Evans, made the decision even easier. She and her group —Mary and Marlene— had always welcomed me with open arms. Even when I wasn’t there, even when i was feeling horrible, I felt part of them. Their friendship was warm and easy, like slipping into water that was just the right temperature, so as the opportunity arised, i sinked in it without a doubt.

I knew of them, of course. In a town that size, you can’t not know James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin. I’d met them in passing, mostly through Lily and the others. Remus was the one I’d spoken to the most, since he and Lily were close. But after I moved in with my grandmother, things changed. One afternoon, while my grandmother was away, they showed up at the doorstep asking for "magical advice" because they were really interested about the animagi.

Nestled in a coastal town not far from my city, my granny's house holds the kind of magic that doesn't need explaining with complex theories but with nature itself. The women on my father’s side have always carried a strange sort of gift: a sixth sense, a hum beneath the skin. My grandmother is known for it; whimsical, wise, and just a little wild. Naturally, some of it runs in me too: an energy, a current, something electric that’s always been there, waiting. I didnt try to ignore It but i hadn't been playing attention to It until i came to my granny's, and to her delight, I decided to start learning about it, because what better way than to learn from the best? My grandma has a well established reputation as the most powerful witch in the town, a skilled herbalist and tarotist that everyone seeks for guidance. Not to brag exactly, there are more whimsical women around with whom my granny's friends with, from all ages, you can say we form some sort of coven; but the truth is theres no one like her. And that's where the marauders enter the scene.

You could say it was the magic in me that peeked their curiosity or the fact that i was a new face in a town with a rather small amount of population, but they fastly adopted me in their group and without realizing It, i was merge in their shenanigans in the blink of an eye. After that, the dynamic between us all changed. Before, there were two separate circles: the girls I’d always known and the boys who orbited near us, yet not quite close. But somehow, through quiet presence and late afternoons spent in gardens or at the beach, the lines began to blur. And now we’ve all become a kind of makeshift family.

Even if we grew a sense of community between us all, theres something special about James, with his messy hair, his infectious energy and this look in his eyes that always lingers just a second too long when he’s talking to me. it’s been a strange sort of dance between us. He flirts. Shamelessly, often. He smirks like he knows exactly what he’s doing, tossing out compliments with that lopsided grin and pretending not to care whether I answer them or not. He teases me when I’m too focused, pokes at my quiet nature like he’s trying to unravel it thread by thread. And I brush him off playfully. I roll my eyes, call him ridiculous, act like I’m immune to his charm, even when I’m not and i try to hide the blooming shine of red from my face. It’s easier that way for me, to pretend it’s all a joke and let the friendship bloom first. For now, we exist in the quiet in-between. And that’s enough, even if there’s something else beneath it that we cannot deny tho we’re both not quite naming yet.

Think of a mix of Practical Magic and 'the raven cycle' books vibes. A small coastal town with incredible views and whimsical nature.

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

How are you doing? I hope you are feeling well.

Is it possible for a teen power or denji like reader? And if you would like maybe the reader also has the same past as denji or power from chainsaw man. You can choose whoever you want to do. I also really enjoy your posts! Thank you! And reminder for you to not overwork yourself. Please take care of yourself and make sure to take breaks. Stay safe :)

I am doing well, thanks for asking. I am glad, that you liked my posts. Enjoy ☺️

Denji! Teen! Reader

Self-Aware! Platonic! BSD Characters x GN! Platonic! Denji! Teen! Reader

Description: There was something strange with Their Guiding Light.

Warning: OOC. Slight-Spoilers to Chainsaw Man (Denji's Past, Fate's of some Characters, Makima mentioned, No Nayuta). English is my second language.

_______

You put your finished homework in your bag, trying not to damage notebook pages. Your handwriting became better, your reading skills proved and, recently, your math teacher praised for all the progress you have made.

Life became... normal.

As normal as a devil hybrid's life could be. Especially, if said hybrid had to take care of a cat and seven dogs, go to school and safe people from devils at their spare time.

Your fingers brushed against a chainsaw cord.

Pochita... Aki... Power...

Would your life ever be normal again?

If someone asked you if you blamed your father, for what has happened, you would say "I dunno"

If it wasn't for his debt, you won't become Devil Hunter, worked with Yakuza, had your heart fused with Pochita... Won't meet your friends. And Makima...

This situation was complex.

Really complex.

And you didn't want to think about it.

Not now. Maybe, later.

For now, you have some reading exercises.

You stand up and took new Bungou stray dogs manga volume.

With your phone near (to look a meaning of words you don't know), you start reading it.

________

🐾Their Guiding Light was really emotional and kind. And each time Guiding Light decided to say something good about them...

"Kunikida is so serious! It's cool and funny at the same time. I wonder if he could help me with math homework." Little Light was practically vibrating, rubbing against Kunikida's cheek.

"I would like to make some bombs with Kajii! Sounds cool!" Little Light was purring, curled on Kajii's head.

"Oh! Fyodor is so smart! I wanna be as smart, as him, one day!" Everyone try to hold back their laughter, looking at Little Light, who were "hugging" Fyodor's face.

🐾 But there was something, that makes them worried. They guessed, that you were a teen. And, for some reason, you have some troubles with reading. You were slow, re-reading some words, and taking your time.

🐾 They were worried, because they were afraid, that Their Guiding Light were bullied because of their reading habits. It was another reason for them to get to the real world faster. To protect you from bullies.

______

You were having lunch on a school rooftop. It's not like you can't eat at the school's cafeteria.

But, if Chainsaw Devil Hunter are needed, you need an easy way to get to the battle. Without being noticed.

You were ready to take a first bite of your food, when the school building started to shake.

Another Devil (you really didn't care about what kind of devil it was), was on a run. You put your lunch box down. Time to get to business.

You didn't notice, how your phone screen became white.

You pull the chainsaw's cord and jumped.

---------

When you returned to the roof, you saw a group of shocked BSD Characters.

______

🐾 Yosano checked fifteen minutes, checking your face and arms, making sure, that you weren't hurt. During check-ups, BSD Cast explained everything to you.

🐾 Your life became even stranger.

_________

🐾 You have a huge family right now. And a protective one.

🐾 When you were moving into the new house, some Devil Hunters (who knew about your Chainsaws) tried to stop them. It took one "F*** off, they are my kid now" from Fukuchi to stop them.

🐾 Chuuya became a second owner for your dogs. Fukuzawa became a second owner of your cat.

🐾 Kunikida and Poe are tutoring you. You wanted to improve your math, writing and reading skills.

🐾 Mori and Yosano will always run a medical check-ups on you, after your transformations.

🐾 Fitzgerald bought every merch with your Devil Form he can find.

🐾 You told Ango, Ranpo and Ayatsuji and Power's last request. They try to help you find a new Incarnation of Blood Devil.

🐾 Kids now attending the same school as you. After you defend them from bullies, they created a fan club of you. Not to Chainsaw Devil Hunter. No, to [Y/N] [L/N].

🐾 Life didn't become less chaotic. But, it became warmer. And more homey.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Wishes fulfilled [S. R.] birthday wishes pt. 2

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 7.7k

summary: After an unfortunate event, Spencer questions what he really feels about his childhood best friend.

contains: best friends to lovers, a little angst at the beginning, conflict over feelings, mostly fluff

A/N: A anon suggested there be a second part for birthday wishes and I thought, why not? You can read it as a standalone or as a continuation, tell me what you thought! this makes me very happy:)

The months passed and very soon the Christmas season arrived. There were some allusive decorations courtesy of García and she had even placed a small tree in the meeting room with symbolic gifts under it, one for each member of the team that they could open after Christmas Eve. It was a month full of warmth, love and delicious hot chocolate, but criminals in the United States didn't seem to adhere to that rule so the BAU continued with business as usual.

“She was Abigail Jones,” Garcia began, projecting an image on the conference room screen of a woman who must have been in her thirties. “She was found dead yesterday in her apartment in Las Vegas, in the area of Downtown, with multiple signs of violence, sexual abuse, and a completely disfigured face…” when she said this, she turned away from looking at the photo, with good reason, as it made even the strongest members feel nauseous.

There were two other victims, the same mobile phone and in scattered areas of the city. They were single women, who lived alone and although they didn’t seem to share traits in terms of their socioeconomic level, they were extremely similar physically and that is why Spencer's stomach turned when he realized how much they looked like you. A call to Hotch's phone interrupted the presentation and they all waited for the exchange to end, until after exchanging a few sentences the man spoke.

“It was the police chief. There is a new victim, they just found her in the Summerlin area, in an apartment complex on Pennwood Avenue.”

“At Pennwood?” Spencer asked, turning completely pale as she heard the area where the attack had taken place “Who is she?”

“They haven’t yet identified the body, but she has the same characteristics as the other women”

Everyone was shocked to see the doctor get up from the table and leave the room without giving any explanation, apparently to make a call from his phone. Aaron set the departure time of the jet and after that some members approached the young agent to try to find out what was happening. He seemed very worried, with the device pressed firmly against his ear and his gaze lost.

“What's wrong, Reid?”

“I'm calling Y/N,” he explained, feeling his breathing begin to quicken. “She lives in those apartments.”

The rest of the team seemed to understand, then, the concern that had overcome the man due to the information they had just received. They were also profilers and even with the little that they knew you, they knew that you fit perfectly into victimology, so it wasn’t difficult for them to connect both dots to realize what Spencer's fear was.

The first call had no answer, other than the answering machine, so he called again, again and again until panic took him in its clutches like prey.

“Dude, calm down.”

"She doesn’t answer!" Spencer practically sobbed, feeling like everything around him was spinning and a second later collapsing into Morgan's arms.

"What's going on?"

“Reid fears that the woman they just found is Y/N,” JJ explained to her boss. By this point the entire team was already gathered around the man, sharing the worry that was tormenting him and thinking about the possibilities of everything. The trip to Vegas was longer than usual trips, which didn't help in the least.

Spencer felt a chill when he tried to dial your number again and, just like before, he only heard your pre-recorded voice.

“Okay, listen,” Hotch said firmly, as he approached Spencer and grabbed his shoulders to get his attention. “I'm going to ask the officer to call me as soon as they identify the body, until then I need you to calm down. Do you know if Y/N has any particular signs with which they can tell us now if it is her?”

“Huh, she…” he stammered, struggling to put two coherent thoughts together to answer, “she has a… a mole on her belly, I think. It’s small and red.”

Under other circumstances the team would have mocked him, asking him how he had that knowledge or something along those lines, however, the situation was too delicate to allow for jokes.

“Okay, get your things so we can leave as soon as possible. And again, calm down,” Hotch said firmly, pointing at the agent. “It's not her, Reid. I know it"

Spencer tried to do what his boss had asked, but he kept dialing his cell phone every two minutes hoping to hear a response. He tried to calm down by telling himself that the chances of that body being yours were very low and trying to find in his mind some statistics that would corroborate this, but fear barely allowed him to understand the situation enough to know any information at that moment.

Obviously he was the first to arrive at the jet and he didn't stop trying to communicate with you, until he saw Aaron walk through the hallway with an expression he couldn't decipher.

"She…"

“No,” the man responded immediately. “The victim's name is Olivia Anderson. She’s not Y/N”

Hearing this he let out a breath of air and took a couple of steps until he reached the opposite one, to wrap him in a hug of complete relief. Hotch responded with warmth and a murmur of 'I told you so', which was interrupted by the arrival of the rest of the team.

Even though you still weren't answering the calls, Spencer was able to feel calmer during the flight, enough to analyze various aspects of the case that allowed him to offer valuable contributions for the future. When delegating the commissions, the unit chief was condescending to him and asked him to go to the last crime scene, so that with some luck you could meet and he could make sure that you were okay.

When they arrived in Nevada, the snow greeted them and Spencer adjusted his scarf tighter as he got into the car that Morgan would drive to the crime scene. The walk wasn't long and once there Derek motioned to his partner when the officer arrived to talk to both of them, as if he were permitting him to enter the building instead of staying. Spencer didn't hesitate to practically run inside to look for your apartment, and when he finally found the door with the number 17 he knocked frantically, but when he didn't receive a response he only became more frustrated.

Where the hell were you supposed to be?

He felt a vibration in his right pocket and almost dropped the device from his hand when he answered the call, without even looking at the identifier.

"Hello?"

“Reid, come back here,” Morgan spoke. “Y/N is with me.”

The agent didn't have to say it twice for Spencer to go down the stairs with the same speed he went up them, almost tripping on the way, and when he came out he looked for you in every direction. The snow and the tide of law enforcement personnel blocked the view a bit, but when his eyes finally met yours, you smiled and waved your hand to get his attention. Spencer ran, again, towards you, until he crashed into you in a hug. You were smaller than him and you fit perfectly against his body.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asked in an angry voice, separating himself from you so he could look at you, but without letting go of your waist “I called you at least thirty times and you didn't answer, do you have any idea how worried I was?”

“I, huh… I left my phone at home and I'm just getting back from work, I had no idea what happened. Morgan already told me that there was a homicide.”

“Did you know her?”

“She's my neighbor,” you muttered sadly, looking toward the entrance of the building. “Oh, Crash, this is so horrible. She was… she was very good and kind to everyone. She didn't deserve this."

“I want you to go in there, pack some changes of clothes, and come back here, okay?”

"Why?"

“You will stay with me in the hotel until the case is over,” he ruled, with a tone that gave no room for opposition. “I need to work right now, but while you do what I asked of you.”

“But… I can't just leave my apartment like that, and what about my job?”

“I will talk to your boss and if he refuses, I will charge him with obstruction of justice or I will assign you an escort if necessary, but you are not going anywhere alone.”

You knew perfectly well that, although Spencer was a valuable member of the unit, he didn't have the power to do that, but because of the confidence in his voice you doubted for a second if he would be able to ask someone higher up in the bureau's hierarchy for that favor. You had rarely heard him speak like that, with a mixture of anger and concern, and he had never ordered you to do anything in your life. But he was doing it now, he was giving you specific instructions that wouldn't take no for an answer.

“Reid, we need you here” you heard Derek say from the other side.

"What's going on? Why do I have to leave here?”

“I'll explain everything to you later, okay? For now you go and get your things to call a taxi” he said, a little less agitated than he had spoken at first. Then he, in an unexpected act, gently kissed your forehead “Wrap yourself up, it's freezing out here.”

Although you had more questions, you knew that he was working and that you couldn't interrupt him just because, so you went to your apartment and grabbed a small suitcase to start packing clothes. Your phone was, as you expected, on the kitchen counter and you checked that he wasn't exaggerating with the number of calls he made to you.

When you left there was already a taxi waiting for you, so he just gave you the address of the hotel where the team was staying so you could get there. It was a picturesque place with lots of cheerful Christmas decorations, with a friendly guy as the receptionist. He already seemed to be aware of the agreement and after you checked in, he guided you to the room, where your friend would also be staying.

You didn't understand why it was necessary to keep you there and you hoped that he would call you at some point to clarify the situation, but he didn't. Since you had brought your laptop with you, you took the opportunity to continue working and it wasn't until a couple of hours later, you didn't even know how many, that someone knocked on the door. You didn't open it until you asked who it was and recognized your friend's voice, seeing him standing with his briefcase slung over his shoulder and a tired smile.

“Hello,” you sighed in relief, greeting him with a hug and then pulling him inside. You let him put down his belongings and sit on the bed, while you stood in front of him. “Do you want to explain to me what is happening and why I am here?”

“There is a murderer on the loose”

“That seems obvious.”

“There is a murderer on the loose who killed your neighbor, with characteristics surprisingly similar to yours, both physical and personal” he added and it took you a moment of silence to understand where the matter was going “I just didn't want you to be near there because he could come back"

“Do you think I'm in danger?”

“I don't know, but you're the kind of woman the unsub likes. I wasn't going to risk you”

You nodded your head softly, from your position of crossed arms.

“And what does your boss think about this?”

“He didn't know,” he confessed to you and you opened your eyes widely. “But I told him on the way here and he said to just try to stay out of trouble or Strauss would call him out on it. It's just that I... panicked, okay? When the police found Olivia's body they had not identified it and… I was afraid that it was you”

Suddenly all the calls and his face contorting into a grimace of relief when he saw you made sense to you, because at this point you hadn't even realized how much you and Liv shared. But Spencer had done it, that was his job after all.

“But I'm fine,” you said reassuringly, as you knelt in the space between his legs and met his gaze. “I’m safe, okay?”

“Did you see anything suspicious in the last few days? Anything that can help?”

“I don't think so, I spend all day at work” you lamented “I'm sorry.”

“Don't worry,” he reassured you, giving you a tired smile.

You knew your friend and you knew beforehand what stress did to his body, like those horrible migraines he had started to get or the dark circles under his eyes, and now his body language was screaming at you that something was still bothering him.

“You should sleep,” you suggested, reaching out with one of your hands to place it on his cheek. Spencer didn't complain, instead he closed his eyes and turned his head slightly so he could rub his skin against your outstretched palm.

It took you by surprise when, just a second later, he leaned down to grab your waist and help you get up from the floor. You were about to ask what he was doing when he maneuvered himself again until you were sitting on his lap, your legs dangling next to his and his arm wrapped tightly around your lower back.

“So we're cozy now, huh?” you scoffed, trying to mask with a smile the blush that had already spread across your face at the position the man had placed you in.

Spencer was a great lover of physical contact, contrary to what many might think, although this depended a lot on the person he was with. It had taken you months of effort to get a handshake and only as the years went by did, he begin to enjoy hugs with you. But after so much time you had gotten used to it and that's why the man became all clingy with you, after all it wasn't very common for you to see each other, which didn't bother you at all.

However, him holding you like that felt completely different than usual. You had only felt those butterflies in your stomach when, on his birthday, you had been so drunk and tired that you ended up sharing a bed. You had to admit that you liked him more than you should, waking up sheltered by his body, between a tangle of limbs and feeling the rise and fall of his calm breathing; and when the thought of having more nights like this crossed your mind you suppressed it immediately, feeling tremendously guilty about it.

But this wasn’t a product of alcohol or fatigue, but rather Spencer had done this of his own free will. His hair curled at the tips and you took the opportunity to gently brush some pieces off his forehead, while he watched you in complete silence.

“I don't know what I would do if something ever happened to you.”

His confession was barely a whisper that tickled your cheek, said with such sincerity that he took you by surprise. You couldn't measure the fear that had brewed in your best friend's chest that morning and that's why you couldn't understand his need to have you physically close, as he wanted to make sure you were there with him and not brutally murdered on a bed in the morgue.

A sigh of tenderness left you and you immediately pulled him close to you to hug him, feeling your hip fitting into the curve of his stomach and his face close to your neck, like he always did.

“Is that why you are like this? Baby, you don't have to worry about me. I already told you I'm fine."

“I know,” he murmured. “But I can't help it.”

“Well, you'll have to try it.”

“How do you want me to try something like that?” he exclaimed, separating from you so he could look into your eyes, and keeping the minimum distance between you two “I can't. I will always worry about you, you are my…” the words were cut off, because he didn't think there was a word that encapsulated well enough what you meant to him, but also because he was momentarily distracted by your lips; why was he getting distracted by them?

“Best friend in the whole world and sole owner of your heart?”

“Something like that,” he responded, laughing for the first time that night, and as he did so his face only moved closer to yours. He was strangely nervous about your presence and didn't know why, so he didn't help much when you leaned against his body so he could hold you better. Spencer just hoped your ear couldn't pick up the increase in his heartbeat.

“We should be able to stay like this forever,” you muttered absently, and although you didn't mean to be serious the words hit the man worse than they should.

For a moment he contemplated the possibility of actually staying with you forever and then he realized it wasn't an idea he disliked. From an early age every time Spencer thought about his future you were in it, but he hadn't thought about the role he wanted you to play. You had been friends for so long that he didn't believe there was anything more to your relationship, however, he was very wrong.

Was holding you like that awakening something in him that he didn't think was possible? Or was it the fear of losing you that made him realize that he would rather die than spend a life without you? No book or statistical study gave him an answer to what he was feeling and, to be honest, that terrified him.

He knew that you had tried to have a relationship with several men throughout your life, but none of them had managed to progress beyond a few months, due to one reason or another. However, Spencer wondered how long it would take for you to finally find love and if he could stand to see someone become your priority. It's not that he was jealous or possessive, just that he had been used to being someone important in your life for too long to accept the change from one moment to the next. He would always be happy if you were happy, but it made him sick to think that you would end up marrying someone completely unworthy of your affection and admiration; someone who didn't deserve the best woman of all. And as if it were an epiphany, Spencer realized that he wanted to be that man.

He needed it. 

“We have to sleep,” he murmured, gently patting your back, because he was afraid that if you stayed like this any longer his mind would travel to some other inappropriate ideas. “Sleep on the bed, I'll sleep on the floor.”

“The bed is big enough”

“It doesn't matter, you use it,” he murmured. You had already stood up and were playing absentmindedly with the long sleeve of your blouse, without stopping to look at him.

"But…"

“I don't want to have this discussion today, okay?” the man had already taken some pillows and was spreading a sheet next to the bed. You, resigned, climbed up to the mattress and remained to kneel on it, watching your friend arrange his place.

“How many days will you stay here?”

"We don’t know yet. With some luck it will only be until tomorrow."

“You should visit your mom,” you murmured. Among so many emotions, Spencer had barely had time to think about Diana, at least until now that you had mentioned her, and he felt a pang of guilt. “It's almost Christmas, it would be a nice gift.”

“I think you're right,” he smiled. Things were ready and although he enjoyed talking to you now he felt extremely tired, so he just wanted to go to sleep. “Rest, okay? We’ll talk tomorrow"

“Good night,” you replied, smiling tenderly at him. An unexpected urge to lean in and steal a kiss grew in Spencer, which he tried to shake off of himself.

Without saying anything else he walked to turn off the light and then came back to lie down on the blanket, trying to sleep. When he was about to get it, he felt your arm fall over the side of the bed and your hand groping for any part of his body you could hold. In the end it was his hand that held yours and he couldn't see your blushing cheeks when he left a kiss on the back of it, nor his mischievous smile.

He knew when you had fallen asleep by the decrease in the strength of your grip, but although he tried to imitate you he couldn't do it. His mind continued to be tormented by the impulses that had invaded him that night, trying to find what reason was behind it, but also wondering how bad it would be to carry them out.

A little defeated, he got up from the floor, but not before carefully placing the hand that was holding you on your chest, and he went to see the landscape through the bedroom window. Snowflakes were falling and the lights of the casinos illuminated the view, reminding him that Las Vegas never slept, adding to these the colorful Christmas trees installed everywhere. In his family Christmas wasn’t celebrated conventionally, as it was just him and his mother having dinner ordered from a restaurant. There were gifts, they were almost always books or objects related to science, but he didn't make sense of the idea of warmth and love that revolved around the holiday. Until one time your family invited him to celebrate, he was finally able to understand that Christmas magic that everyone was talking about and from then on it was his reference for the celebration.

After staring at the window for a while he focused on the vision of you lying on the mattress, sleeping in that strange position that you always used to, and he asked himself how many years it was that he had been in love with you and how it was that he had never noticed it.

He let out a sigh that showed resignation, but also tremendous fear, and finally retraced his steps to pick up the blanket and pillows from the floor. He climbed onto the bed, knowing that he wouldn't be able to sleep otherwise, and he lay down next to you, trying not to make any movements that would disturb your calm. The last thing he saw before falling into morpheus’s arms was your peaceful face, and even when he slept his dreams were filled with your smile.

The unsub was successfully caught, just as he had predicted, the next day and that was when he could breathe easy again. You were no longer in danger, outside of the usual danger that a woman from the United States faces, so you could return to your normal life without any problems.

Once you were back at your apartment Spencer said goodbye, promising that he would see you again soon, and heeded your advice about visiting Diana. He asked Aaron if he could stay in Vegas, after all the Christmas holidays were right around the corner and he made the excuse that he could come back if a new case came up. When the boss granted his request he wasted no time and headed to Bennington Sanitarium while the rest of the team headed to Virginia on the jet.

When he arrived good news about his mother greeted him, all referring to the improvement she had with the new medication, and when the doctors' report was finished they took him to the room where she was. Diana was reading to another patient and Reid smiled lovingly at the sight, a smile that was reciprocated when his mother noticed his presence.

“My child, I didn’t expect your visit,” she murmured, while she received the man in her arms.

“There was a case here and I decided to stay with you for a few days, if that's okay with you.”

“Of course it's okay with me, do you think I wouldn't want to see you?” she smiled, patting his face and hearing him laugh.

Both of them moved to her bedroom where they shared stories that she hadn’t read in the letters or that deserved to be deepened now that they were together. Her mother talked to her about how she had been feeling, some workshops she had taught and new people who had joined and she had befriended. He was very happy to see Diana so happy and lively, contrary to other visits where the circumstances had been more unfortunate.

The talk was interrupted by a nurse bringing dinner to Diana and a portion of contraband for Spencer, who was extremely grateful. In the middle of the silence of dinner his mind returned to you and when he looked at his mother, he knew that if anyone could give him good advice it was her.

“Mom, can I talk to you about something?”

“Of course,” she replied, pushing her food aside so Spencer could sit on the bed with her “What is it?”

“Well, huh… I guess you remember my friend Y/N, right? My God, of course you remember her” he answered himself, knowing that he was always talking about you in his letters “The fact is that I… I have felt weird with her since my birthday.”

“Weird how?”

“I don't know, like… different,” he murmured, not knowing if that would be the right word for the nature of his feelings.

“You don't want to be her friend anymore?

“Quite the opposite, actually,” he murmured nervously. He considered it prudent to explain the situation that had arisen from the case and about your stay with him during these days, so that his mother could understand the fear that he had suffered, before continuing talking “And last night when I got to my room and she was there I felt… I don't know, I don't even know how to say it. I only felt enormous relief to see her well and I wanted her to always be well."

“Well, you grew up together. It's normal that you worry about her, you guys are almost like family”

“But I can't see her like that,” he interrupted her. He hated her comparison, because he knew what brotherly love was and it was definitely not how he felt about you “I think I'm in love with her. No, I know I'm in love with her. And I… I'm scared” 

Diana's attentive eyes studied her son and Spencer didn’t know how to interpret her silence, until he felt his mother's hand placed on her knee and saw a smile appear on her face. 

“Oh, my boy… Why are you afraid to love?”

“I am not afraid to love. I'm afraid of not being loved”

That was. Spencer wasn't afraid of having those feelings, but rather he was afraid that they wouldn't be reciprocated. If he confessed things to you, he risked having the greatest romance in his life or being cruelly rejected by the best friend he had ever had.

Diana cupped her son's face with both hands and gave him a compassionate smile.

“You are, for more years than you can think,” she exclaimed, with complete confidence, and the man frowned in confusion.

"How do you know?"

“A mother notices those things, son,” Diana laughed. “Even one like me.”

Would his mother be telling the truth? He wasn't the best at reading social cues and that was clear, so he didn't know the difference between friendly behavior and one that held another interest when it came to you, but he doubted for a second if Diana was the best person to interpret those signs. He didn't even entertain the possibility that you had feelings for him, I mean, you were so pretty and funny and cool and he… well, he was just him.

“Are you going to tell her?” she added, noticing that he had remained silent.

"I should?"

"Sure! If not now, when will you do it?”

"But I…"

“But nothing,” she interrupted him. “I want you to go find her and tell her.”

"Now?!" Spencer screamed, feeling his mother get up and push him to the exit. “But mom…”

“When will you be in Las Vegas again?” she pointed out “I'm not going to leave here, you can come back tomorrow.”

"But it's too late"

“So what, Spencer? “Do you think I don’t want to see you married before meeting the creator?” Diana insisted and the man opened his eyes widely in a mixture of surprise and amusement. “The sooner the better. Go tell her, come on. And it would be better if you come back tomorrow that she will accompany you.”

Spencer watched her from the hallway for a few seconds and at the woman's security he felt a certain emotion, letting fear be replaced by pure motivation for the first time. He nodded and took a couple of determined steps toward the exit, but then he stopped and turned to wrap his mother in a tight hug.

"Thanks, Mom. I love you”

“I love you more,” she smiled. “Now go.”

Spencer left there completely determined and took the first taxi he saw to take you to your apartment, with his heart beating like crazy all over his chest and his mind busy searching for the words with which he would profess his feelings for you.

Inside your apartment you let out a squeal when you heard the microwave announcing that your reheated food was ready and you rushed there to return as soon as possible to see David Tennant's hottie in a trench coat. You had to admit knowing Doctor Who, at first, had been against your will, but now it was an acquired taste that you quite enjoyed and accompanied you on your sleepless nights. After a few seconds you returned to the living room with your burrito in your hand and just when you were about to play the Christmas special when someone knocked on your door, startling you a little.

“Mrs. Jensen, is that you? I already told you that I haven't seen your cat around here” you half shouted, without opening the door, but there was no response “Hello?”

“It's me,” said a fairly familiar voice. You thought you were wrong so you opened the door just a little and through the chain lock you could see that, indeed, it was your friend.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, opening the door fully. “I thought you were going back to DC.”

“I changed my mind” he replied and until then you noticed that he was holding a bouquet of tulips decorated with a white bow, which he extended in your direction for you to take. That only added to your confusion.

“Wow, I… Thank you?”

“Can I come in?” He asked timidly and as soon as you scooted to the side he walked into the apartment, not looking at you.

"Everything's fine?"

"No. I mean, yeah…” he stammered, looking you up and down. You were wearing thermal pajamas with a Christmas print and you were without shoes, with a messy bun holding your hair. “Did you like them?”

"What?"

“The flowers,” he pointed out.

"Oh yeah. They are beautiful” you smiled, looking at them carefully. There was a good number of red tulips, some open and others were just a small bud. “What are they for?”

“I didn't want to arrive empty-handed,” he lied. “I got them at a flower shop near here, a very sweet old woman sold them to me.”

“Well, thank you, then,” you smiled and he responded in kind, but then he didn’t speak again. You were just observing him, not figuring out what was causing his strange behavior. “Do you want to sit down?”

The flowers ended up in a vase on the counter in the kitchen and when you returned he was already sitting on the couch, legs together and hands on his knees.

"And how are you?"

“Well, I was about to eat something while watching the Doctor Who Christmas special,” you told him. You expected him to start ranting about fun facts or the story or the actors or anything, but he just smiled at you understandingly and stayed silent. “Is your mom okay?”

“Yes, she is. I was having dinner with her a while ago, but... I thought I'd come here because I want to tell you something important."

Oh, you thought, there's the real reason for his nocturnal visit. 

"Yeah? What is it about?" you asked, slightly worried about whatever he had to say.

Everything he had thought about in the car seemed to have been erased from his memory and now Spencer didn't even know where to start. He had only confessed these kinds of feelings to two people in his life and neither of those times had turned out well, so he didn't know what to expect.

“Okay, I'm going to tell you, but you have to promise me that you will take it in the best way, okay?” he asked and you nodded. "And this won't change anything between us if you... if you don't agree with what I'm going to tell you."

“Hey, you're scaring me,” you joked nervously, but when you didn't hear him laugh your fear became genuine. “Is something wrong? You know you can tell me anything.”

“It's not a bad thing. Well, not unless you want it to be.”

“Well, tell me then,” you encouraged him kindly, with a smile that provided him with the courage he needed.

You were so pretty and he just wanted to kiss you to death.

“We've known each other for practically our entire lives, right?” he began “I still remember the first time I talked to you. And I don't speak figuratively, but I really remember it, it's one of the things from my childhood that my brain didn't throw away. I had been watching you from the window because you went out to your yard to spread a blanket to play with dolls and cars and all kinds of things. Sometimes you jumped rope and other times you kicked the ball and all I could think about was how you could have so much fun being alone. I mean, I was just reading and studying things with my microscope and you know, nerdy things” he murmured, letting out a short laugh “Until one day you knocked on my window and asked me if I wanted to play with you.”

“My mom told me to do it,” you confessed, “Well, I suggested it, but she encouraged me to do it. It always made me sad to see you there and I thought you were just too shy to come over and play.”

“But no one had ever done that. Include me in some activity, I mean. Everyone made fun of me at school or called me weird, but not you, not even when I deserved it. It made me happy that a girl like that wanted to be with me and even though you had too much energy, somehow I could keep up with you. When we grew up I thought you would just get bored of me, but that wasn't the case and even when I was promoted in grade you stayed in contact with me. You were there when mom got worse and I had to send her to that sanatorium and yet your family treated me like I was your own family. You have always been there for me and you have made me feel less alone in the world, and I don't think I have ever thanked you for that.”

“Oh, Crash,” you smiled, a couple of tears gathering on your eyelids. “You don't need to do that. I have done everything because that is what friends are for.”

“But I don't want to be friends,” he said immediately and your expression changed to a worried one at that moment. The silence between you made you imagine the worst, but it was only because he was gathering the courage to continue “To me you are something else.”

Your face contorted into another grimace, but this time one of surprise and confusion.

"What do you me…?”

“I'm in love with you,” he spat. This time all his years of training were of no use as he tried to decipher your expression. “And it's okay if you don't feel the same way about me, I'm not asking that of you. I just want you to know that the day I got here for the case I... I was going crazy at the mere thought of someone hurting you. I didn't realize that you meant everything to me until that moment and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since. That night I just wanted to hold you and keep you safe for the rest of our lives and although I don't have much experience, I think that's what love feels like. I have always loved you, only now it is a different love. And I'll understand if you don't feel the same way about me and I just misinterpreted things, but please, if that's the case, just let me stay your friend because I don't think I can handle messing things up. I don't ask you for anything more than that, that whatever you feel, things don't become uncomfortable just because of what I just told you."

There were a few seconds of silence and then he finally dared to look at you. You were stunned, with your gaze lost and your lips parted. Years of friendship passed before the man's eyes, who interpreted your lack of conversation as a rejection of his feelings, and he felt his heart break a little. From the beginning he was aware that this possibility existed, but now that it had materialized, he realized that perhaps he wasn’t ready.

But then your eyes met his and he felt your hand reach out to his, which was already shaking slightly.

“Your hands are cold,” you observed, sliding a little on the couch so you could take both of his limbs. Spencer followed your movements carefully and could see how you brought both hands to your lips to place a kiss on his knuckles.

“Is that all you have to say?”

“I actually have too much to say, I just don't know how,” you confessed.

“You don't have to lie to avoid hurting me. I already told you, it's okay if you don't feel the same."

“Spencer Reid,” you said sternly, thus forcing him to look at you. “Stop saying that.”

“So it's not like that?”

“Of course not, why would you think so?” You mumbled, really waiting for a response that never came. You watched him carefully, trying to memorize all his features, while you reflected on how much he had changed in front of your eyes and how he was still the same scared little boy from the window.

“Because… I don't know, there has never been someone who loves me the way I am.”

“Oh, Spencer,” you murmured condescendingly, “I've loved you since you were an ugly kid with glasses who couldn't stop talking about science, what other proof do you need?”

He definitely wasn't expecting that answer and that's why he started laughing; not like a soft laugh, but a loud, euphoric laugh.

“Why do you call me ugly kid?”

“You were!” You defended yourself, accompanying him in his joy. You had probably ruined the most romantic moment of your life, however, it was worth it to see the man laugh like that. And after all you were still his best friend, it was your job to joke like that “And yet I liked you, you can't imagine how much. Then you grew up and became this perfect prototype of a boy and you were so focused on your studies that I thought you weren't interested in me, at least in that way. But you were my friend and I was happy like that, I always have been. I tried to bury those feelings because I was also afraid of ruining things, but now you come to tell me all this, and I just don't believe it."

"Are you serious?" he asked, trying not to get overwhelmed by the fact that you had just called him perfect and that you were confessing to him that you had been feeling what he was feeling since you two met. When you nodded, another laugh escaped him as he thought that, after all, his mother had been right.

He had to take a moment to digest the situation. You loved him, you really did, and things weren't ruined. He felt foolish thinking about how long you had been keeping this quiet and how he hadn't noticed, but he concluded that if he had found out at another time he probably would have freaked out and things would have ended very differently, a result he would regret for the rest of his life.

Your hands were still joined and Spencer began to rub his thumb against the back of them, feeling the luckiest to see you smile at him that way and knowing the reason for that expression.

“Is that why you brought me the tulips?” you exclaimed in a sweet voice. You should have sensed it before but only now did you realize that detail.

“Yes, I wanted to surprise you,” he replied, quite satisfied with himself. “I thought about them because, in fact, in the language of flowers, tulips symbolize hope, sincere love and prosperity, but depending on their color the meaning can be transformed. Red tulips, in this case, are ideal for a statement and express unconditional love.”

You let out a gentle laugh, feeling nothing but tenderness at his reaction.

“There's my usual boy,” you said with a proud tone, reaching out to leave a loud kiss on his cheek. Something in Spencer stirred when he heard you call him yours and that desire to kiss you returned, this time with more intensity than before.

"And then?" he asked in your direction. With your eyes you asked for a more complete explanation of what precisely he was referring to “Do you accept me? Do you accept my love?”

“Of course I do,” you replied obviously, giving him that confirmation he needed.

“And if I asked you something serious for us right now, what would you tell me?”

You looked at him for a second, looking for a sign of lying on his face, but when you didn't find it, you smiled, your cheeks completely blushing.

“I would tell you that I would have liked to be more prepared. I'm in pajamas and I smell like a burrito, I think I've looked better."

"It doesn’t matter. "I can take you on a date later, in a nice and elegant place, like you deserve," he murmured excitedly, stopping holding one of your hands to place it on your face. "But only if that's what you want."

“I do, handsome,” you smiled, sliding your hand to surround his wrist. “It's the most definitive yes of my entire life.”

You had dreamed of this moment for a long time, but you had never believed it could come true and now that it had, your heart was overflowing with joy. He was smiling from ear to ear and you suddenly realized that his eyes traveled momentarily to your lips. You saw him swallow, undecided about the next move, so you decided to save him a little effort and reached out until your lips collided with his.

You took him by surprise and although at first it felt strange to be doing that with him, almost as if it were wrong, after a couple of seconds the contact relaxed and you knew that you no longer wanted to kiss lips other than his.

With every second he caressed you in a deeper and more needy way, very different from what you had expected, even his hands took you firmly by the waist to keep you as close to him as possible. He tasted like years of mutual longing and mint gum and it had you completely giddy. You separated only when it was vital to take a breath and then you continued kissing, already addicted to a drug you had just discovered.

“You're so pretty,” he sighed against your lips, allowing himself to compliment you now that he knew you reciprocated. “So, so pretty. And so sweet to me” he recited between kisses, each one gentler than the last “You are perfect.”

“Reid, stop it,” you asked him, feeling nervous from hearing him talk to you like that and feeling him kiss you like that.

"Why? That's what I think. I've always thought so” he smiled, separating himself from you just to enjoy the sight of your beauty, and then he gently caressed the side of your head “I love you” he said.

Your cheeks already hurt from smiling so much and yet you managed to give him that vision again, and how could you not? The man of your dreams was telling you that he loved you.

You leaned in again to kiss him, this time more briefly and delicately, and then you looked into his eyes.

“I love you too” you confessed.

And both of you knew that you didn't need anything more than that.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove

people who might be interested: @stephsycamore @andiebeaword @tothecar @reiderwriter @babymetaldoll @zuckker-blog

[pruneunfair]

manhwa/webtoons that I enjoy and recommend. *spoiler warning*

Not sew-wicked step mom

Very wholesome iteration of the traditional snow white fairy tale, but still can tackle very serious topics correctly. Abigail is still a human in terms of emotion and can make mistakes, Blanche isn't the annoying kid archetype I usually see and I have come to care about her, and the king, Sabrian's past that explains his avoidence of Abigail and the strained relationship with Blanche was handled with care regarding the often misused topic of SA.

Cursed princess club

The first webtoon that got me to stay on the app, Gwen is a great protagonist that slowly learns to love herself again with the help of not just her friends and family but also coming to peace with herself. Characters are flawed and many learn to grow, the relationship between Gwen and Frederick takes the perfect amount of time to progress without dragging on, and there are characters who do/say something cruel to the protagonist but they aren't villainzed and allowed to grow! (Frederick and Aurelia)

This Isekai maid is forming a union

This one is on webtoon canvas and it made me feel validated in my opinions on the usual tropes in otome isekai such as workplace abuse, racism, capitalism, "raising your lover" (ew) and even more obscure ones like gentrification. The first few chapters are mostly about deconstructing toxic manhwa tropes but it grows to have its own plot and story, there are many characters too who aren't exactly the greatest people but still have backstories that explain their behavior, while they aren't excused it does make them so much more human.

foam of the sea

This was a new one I was recommended and it met my expectations. There FL Margaret is a complex character with her own flaws learning to adapt to living a commoner life after she dies and comes back, the cast of characters all have their own stories and while they aren't exactly as fleshed out, this manhwa only has around 30 chapters. It could just be me but I also think that Margaret is autism coded and I found her surprisingly relatable.

Another manhwa that kept me on webtoon after cursed princess club ended. Pereshati is one of the most realistic regression protagonists I've seen and I actually felt her emotions during angsty scenes especially ones that involved the step-mom. There's a realistic relationship progression with Therdeo and in the beginning even after they marry, they aren't exactly close. Best of all, other characters like Saoirse, celphi all are their own person with their own pasts and goals, even the maid staff is treated like actual people and not props.

Not your typical reincarnation story

While it's not the greatest isekai story I've ever seen it's still a good one, it doesn't immediately try to promote woman vs woman in the form of Edith and Rhyse getting along with an attempt at friendship, the ML Killian, while not my most favorite still has great character development as he slowly breaks away from the authors control and when it comes to the perceived white lotus Rhyse, it's likely that as the main character she's being controlled the most and it's a little heart breaking knowing that no matter how hard Edith tries, the narrative will force them to be enemies. A nice commentary on the way authors will warp their own narrative even if it doesn't make sense to the plot.

[rageprufrock]

Superposition | The Devil Judge WIP

Just a sneak peek into the inevitable outcome of me finding out that I can write a story about a 17 year age gap.

After the fire, Yohan wakes up every morning knowing that Isaac is dead. 

Elijah wakes up every morning convinced her father is alive. 

It's the crush damage of new grief each day, too big for her tiny body and too heavy for her to carry. It's worse than all of Yohan's years under his father's belt; it's not until he loses Isaac and Heejin, until Elijah cries herself unconscious in his arms, that Yohan realizes that his father had been a clumsy jailer, that for all his cruelty he'd been a blunt instrument compared to all the ways suffering can visit itself upon a person. 

It's a miracle Elijah is alive, surviving multiple complex fractures and then delayed treatment. They save the flesh and bone of her legs, piece her back together with literal pins and needles. Her x-rays are difficult to look at; the scarring across her ghost-pale skin is worse. She hurts, in a relentless way that is at first impossible to explain to a child, and then is so ordinary she goes quiet with it, turns it inward. She stops crying. She's too weak and immobile for her once-infamous tantrums. She goes quiet instead. She throws books, toys, anything that Yohan brings into her beautifully appointed private room to try to distract her. 

"It will be hard, and it will take time," her doctors say, with an infuriating paternalism, as if their performed empathy could dampen constant burn of searing fire across Yohan's shoulders, cut into the shell of him. "But she's young and she's resilient—she'll surprise you." 

For the first six months, Yohan spends his limited waking, functional hours desperately trying to hold back the flood with his bare hands. He wakes and he's in too much pain to function. He sleeps and his doctors adjust his pain management regimen. He wakes and he tries to comfort Elijah. He sleeps and he dreams about the skin grafts he's been informed are needed. He wakes and he calls Lawyer Ko. He sleeps when he knows Isaac's Social Responsibility Fund donation is canceled. He loses hours and entire days in the labyrinth of the hospital, winding between the VIP ward and the children's wing, meeting with Elijah's orthopedic surgeon, her occupational therapists, the revolving cast of nurses that transport her from procedure to scan to bedside. He arranges Isaac and Heejin's funeral, and ends up back as a patient when Elijah's meltdown at the gravesite has him tearing one of his barely healed graft sites trying to contain her flailing arms, to swallow all of her screaming pain into the bottomless well in the base of his spine. 

It's eight months and six days after the fire that Yohan hears Elijah laugh again. 

***

Later, he'll get a comprehensive readout from the hospital grapevine, but the day he meets Gaon for the first time, all he knows is that he's been summoned by the terrifying peds nurses because Elijah and her new friend have committed some kind of juvenile crime.

Yohan's not ignorant to the fact that Elijah is a nightmare child, but he's still a little confused about how a five year old who is—frankly—abysmal with her new wheelchair is any kind of threat to society. He fetches up at to the pediatric OT clinic fully prepared to act like a complete entitled asshole about this, because while Elijah is a monster, she's his monster and therefore completely innocent of all sin, original or otherwise. 

Except halfway down the hallway there, he hears the sharp cackle of Elijah's laughter, a goblin shriek of pure wicked joy. It lands like a punch, like a blessing, it leaves him lightheaded. 

When he rushes the door, it's to find Elijah in full glory, giggling so hard she can't speak. Her hair is tied up in a series of tiny ponytails that frame her face like a lion's mane, her face is covered in marker, and she's clutching a filthy orange cat to her chest. 

"Kang Yohan-sshi," says one of the nurses, who is trying and failing to look severe, from the way her mouth keeps wobbling and her voice is trembling. "As you can see, we have a situation."

"I—where did she get the cat?" Yohan asks, faint.

Another nurse, who is making no effort to hide her grin, says, "Apparently, they found him behind a trash can in the garden and snuck him into the hospital." 

Yohan slants his eyes toward her. "They?" 

"I'm really not sure how you missed her very obvious partner in crime," the nurse tells him, actively laughing now, and when Yohan turns to look again—turns to see anything other than the miracle of Elijah's smiling face—he sort of understands her point.

Because sitting next to Elijah is a skinny teenaged boy wearing Elijah's headband, all of his short hair pushed back and sticking out like a massive frill around his thin face, his nose colored black and whiskers drawn across his cheeks. He looks less embarrassed than he probably should be, and more incriminating, he's holding some contraption made out of stolen hospital supplies that looks like one those little fishing toys for cats—a single inflated glove hanging from the end—that the fat orange on Elijah's lap keeps reaching for with outstretched paws. 

Standing in the doorway, surrounded by staff and other parents who are barely containing their hysterics, the whole thing is even more batshit. Nurse Woo Yeji, the iron fist of the pediatrics ward, is looming over Elijah and the kid on the ground, hands on her hips as she booms out:

"Kang Elijah-sshi, give me that creature immediately." 

Elijah narrows her bright little eyes. "Oh no," Yohan mutters.

"My cat," she declares, her chin stuck out in defiance.

"He was so sick and skinny, we had to rescue him," the boy chimes in, with the admirable application of a pair of doleful, sweet eyes. It might be more effective if his face wasn't covered in washable marker and he didn't have a purple heart drawn over his left eyebrow. 

"That cat is at least 4 kilograms overweight," Nurse Yeji tells them both, unmoved. "And let me say: Kim Gaon, I thought you had better judgment than this."

The boy, Gaon, takes the comment with the ease of long familiarity with disappointment, but Yohan still sees his eyes go briefly flinty, briefly cold, before he pastes on a smile and says, "I rode my motorcycle into a wall. If you thought I had good judgement, that's your own fault." 

"Yah! Kim Gaon!" the nurse yells, which just sets Elijah off again into pealing laughter. 

And from the back of the room, Yohan watches the way this mouthy kid, this little punk, glances over to his niece, watches how the fake grin on his face dissolves for something softer—something run through with tenderness too old for his years. 

***

Kim Gaon is 17, orphaned, and a frequent flight risk from the group home he's been remanded to with both his parents dead. In the 13 months since his father had died by suicide, and the 10 months since his mother had followed, he's been picked up by the local cops at least a half-dozen times: for smoking, for drinking, for fighting. Yohan looks up photos of Gaon's once-happy family, reads SNS posts mourning the closure of their family restaurant, the police reports about the suicides, the note in Gaon's hospital file that notes that he's going into arrears for his parents' funeral costs. Kim Gaon's social worker talks about him with a sort of resigned apology, approaches Yohan's interest like another black mark in the boy's service jacket. She looks at Yohan's suit and briefcase, takes his business card and calls him Lawyer Kang, spills the whole of Gaon's history, reassures Yohan that however self-destructive, however volatile, Kim Gaon's never displayed any violent tendencies toward children, that Lawyer Kang should feel free to reach out immediately if he feels concern that Gaon has become Elijah's friend.

"If you'd like me to speak to him, to tell him you're not comfortable with him spending time with you niece, I completely understand," his social worker says. 

Kim Gaon has been treated for two different STIs and tried to kill himself with a motorcycle three months ago. The only people he has left in the world are a childhood friend from down the street and Judge Min Jeongho, who used to eat lunch at the Kim's restaurant every day. 

Kim Gaon is 17 and entirely alone.

Yohan smiles at her. "No need," he reassures her. "I'll handle this on my own." 

***

Too much of Kim Gaon's character reference is ultimately hearsay. Yohan doesn't trust himself, exactly, but he trusts his judgement, so he watches quietly from the sidelines, collecting data. Yohan hears all the nurses talk about how Gaon is achingly polite, how they can't understand how such a nice boy could be such an evident wild child he would ride motorcycles with reckless lack of self preservation. He watches Gaon do other peoples' homework, quizzing them on Joseon history and showing a middle schooler who's learning how to write with his left hand trigonometry. Kim Gaon plays Smash Brothers with a flock of elementary school kids and ruthlessly kicks their asses every single time.

The Kim Gaon that's considered a neighborhood menace, the one sends his teachers into a blind fury, that's the protective armor. Yohan knows from defensive adaptations. 

But being a nice kid isn't the same as belonging in Elijah's life in any meaningful way, Yohan acknowledges, and spends a pointless day drafting soul-killing discovery motions and wondering why he's devoting so much time to this distraction. Maybe it's how Elijah's sleeping through the nights better, communicating her pain and what she needs better. Maybe it's how she tells stories about her friend Gaon, and it briefly feels as if they've traveled backward through time, that Yohan's watching her for the night, hearing and becoming deeply invested in all of her day care drama. 

"Elijah-ah, why do you like Gaon so much?" Yohan asks her one night, midway through the intricate ritual of her bedtime routine.

From her bed, Elijah says, "Gaon is funny and cats like him and also his parents are dead, so someone has to take care of him," and without missing a beat, points her sparkling princess wand toward the closet, commanding, "Check there, too." 

Yohan climbs off of the floor where he'd been checking under the bed and goes.

"Would you want to see Gaon even outside of the hospital?" he asks her, doing a careful four-point inspection of the closet: more clothes than one child could ever wear, 200 pairs of shoes, a stuffed sheep the size of a horse—no monsters. "Closet's clear."

Elijah makes a considering noise. "Gaon-oppa said he was a really good cook, so I want to eat his food," she decides, and shy now, she waves Yohan toward her, tiny hands flapping. "Samchon, come here. I want to tell you a secret."

Yohan cherishes every secret he has with Elijah. Since she was born, he's kept so many for her: that she stole a cookie, that she's really really not scared of thunder, that she loves her uncle best, that church is boring. 

"I'm ready," Yohan promises, and sits at the edge of her bed with his most serious expression. 

Elijah looks left and right, as if there are spies around every corner, before she cups her hands around her mouth and Yohan curls over her so that she can whisper:

"Sometimes I forget I'm sad about Mom and Dad, but Gaon-oppa says that's okay because I never forget that I love them." 

It lands somewhere in Yohan's soft underbelly, in the forever ache of his scare tissue. He looks down into Elijah's solemn little face, her riverstone eyes, and he wonders what kind of benevolent God allows this—forces children to patch one another's broken hearts. He used to wish that he would have died instead, that he could trade himself for Isaac, for Heejin, but he's comforted Elijah through too many nightmares of his own death to entertain it any longer. Love's always been a chain, whether wrapped around his wrist with a cross or trapping him in his father's house. 

"You will, you always will," he whispers back. 

"And they love me, too, of course, in heaven," she tells him, with the haughty confidence of a spoilt only child, who'd grown up with three adults circling around her in constant adulation. 

"And I love you here, on Earth," he says, and does not add, your grandfather loves you, too, from where he's burning in hell.

Elijah goes suddenly quiet, thoughtful and a little distant, and Yohan waits patiently until she says at last, "Gaon doesn't think his parents love him in heaven." 

Yohan stills. "Did he say that?" 

"He told his friend, the unni that visits sometimes," Elijah reports, and staring dead into Yohan's eyes, she adds, "I was hiding behind a curtain listening. He also said he can't be her boyfriend." 

"Okay, well, time for little goblins to go to sleep," Yohan says, because he absolutely cannot start laughing about this because somewhere out there, in the beautiful hereafter that Isaac so fervently believed in, he would be furious if Yohan encouraged this kind of behavior.

***

For all Yohan's been investigating the mystery of Kim Gaon, he's wholly unprepared to be confronted by the reality of the boy while sitting in the hospital cafe at half past five, working his way through a stack of files for court the next day.

"Kang Yohan-sshi?" comes a voice, and when Yohan looks up, it's into the shaggy bangs and thin face of the boy who makes Elijah laugh, standing awkwardly at the edge of his table.

"Ah," he says, flipping his pen across his knuckles. "You're Kim Gaon."

Gaon's eyes round. "You recognize me?" 

"The nurses tell me you're friends with Elijah," Yohan says, and waves at one of the empty chairs at the table, shuffles a few folders around to make room. "Please."

It takes more than a little maneuvering for Gaon to take the offered seat, between his backpack and his crutches, his leg still in its cast, and Yohan offers him a steadying arm, takes his bag, helps shift the table this way and that way. Gaon looks mortified the whole time by these small courtesies, stumbling over thank yous and apologies. It tells on him in ways Gaon can't possibly know, but that Yohan can't possibly ignore.

"What brings you to my temporary office?" Yohan asks, when he's sure the kid isn't going to tip over and break anything else, and is only in immediate danger of blushing to death.

Gaon squares his shoulders, and taking a deep breath, says, "I wanted to talk to you about a cat."

This is how Yohan learns that the orange furball that he's first seen that day in the OT room all those many weeks ago is a stray that's been named Gam, and that Elijah's youthful enthusiasm for petty hospital-based crime has undergone a metamorphosis toward more elaborate heists.

"Not that I don't admire her ambition, but I'm pretty sure you'd notice the yowling lump in her sweater when you pick her up from OT," Gaon says, still nervous and too polite, darting wary little glances upward at Yohan. "I tried to talk her out of it, but she started arguing about how cold it was going to get and I had to admit defeat."

Yohan feels the corners of his mouth curl up, reflexive. "There's wisdom in recognizing when you're beaten," he says. "And I appreciate your letting me know."

"Sure," Gaon says before going quiet for a long measure, some unfinished sentence still hidden behind his lashes. Yohan's patient, waits him out, and is rewarded when a half-minute passes and Gaon says, with a brittle courage and poorly concealed vulnerability, "I—I'd take him with me if I could. I like Gam. But the house where I have to stay won't allow pets."

Yohan can hear a universe in between the confession here: that Gaon must have been worried about the cold weather long before Elijah even noticed, that he'd tried to find an answer all on his own. Yohan feels, tugging in the hollow underneath his breastbone, a hurtful recognition of a younger version of himself, all those raw edges fraying, and maybe—sitting here—he can understand a little of Isaac's quiet sadness, the way Yohan had carried all his suffering alone, as a matter of course, without ever trying to ask for help. 

He looks at the slope of Gaon's shoulders, the wrinkled collar of his school uniform shirt, his terrible haircut, the little divot of a piercing in his ear. Yohan thinks about the sunburst of Elijah's laughter and all the terrible things he's willing to do to sustain it; it's strange to realize he hadn't anticipated something so easy, something that wouldn't hurt at all. 

"Do me a favor," Yohan sighs.

Gaon's head darts up. "Um—if I can?" he says.

"Back me up when I tell her that I thought long and hard about this, and that I'm going to be a strict taskmaster about this cat," Yohan says, with a rueful certainty that there's no way in hell that Elijah is going to buy this narrative, because it looks like the sun is rising in the brightness of Gaon's eyes, the pink happiness of his too-thin cheeks. This kid couldn't lie effectively if his life depended on it. In this light, Gaon looks a little like Isaac, if Isaac was too thin and too hopeful, all gamine pleasure; it makes Yohan feel his bones creak just to look at him. 

"I will, I absolutely will," Gaon promises, smiling now and still shy, but so achingly sweet that it makes Yohan want to buy him hot chocolate, to tell him he's done a good job, to ask if he's eaten dinner. 

He forebears, and starts packing up his work documents instead. 

"Come on," he tells Gaon. "If I'm going to make a fool of myself trying to trap a feral hospital cat, you're coming with me."

Yohan ends up scratched to hell and back, his hand-tailored wool trousers covered in mud, while  Gaon laughs at him with a wide-open happiness that makes something in Yohan's chest feel too big for his rib cage. He decides not to think about it in favor of fetching Elijah from her PT and ferrying her down to his car, where Gaon is waiting for them both, a sulking Gam zipped into the front of his hoodie like an uncooperative child. His smile could light every building in Gangnam. Elijah's shriek of pure joy when she spots him leaves Yohan half-deaf for the drive home, and so the warm patter of Elijah and Gaon talking in the backseat rolls over him in indistinct syllable noises until he drops Gaon off at his group home and helps him to the door. 

"Thank you, for today," Gaon tells him, starry and still rosy, covered in cat hair. 

"Elijah's already drawing up plans for shared custody, so don't be a stranger," Yohan warns. 

He'd been ordered by Elijah to participate in an exchange of contact information with Gaon because everybody in the car had a unique and unaddressed relationship with the trauma of abandonment, and so of course Gam could not be suddenly bereft of one of his humans.

"I won't, I promise," Gaon swears, and nods back toward the car, where Elijah is holding Gam up against the window and waving his paw at them. "You should get her home."

Elijah talks nonstop during the drive out of the urban density of Seoul into the forested beyond where their family home is perched on a melodramatic cliff above a lake. Yohan hears about her nurses, her rivalry with another little boy in OT who sounds like he has a world-ending crush on her Gaon-oppa, and listens to the way Elijah sometimes stops mid-sentence when Gam meows at her and then replies, as if she can understand cat. 

Whatever is bubbling in his veins, its too violent to be the warm kindness of joy. This ferocity feels like some holy gratitude, feels like the way Isaac used to talk about God. Yohan has never any good at faith, but he thinks—to himself, so loudly he hears it over the roar of blood in his ears and the chattering happiness of Elijah, vividly alive—he thinks, thank you, thank you, to whoever is listening: to God, to fate, to fortune, to the fucking cat—to Gaon, waving at Elijah with both hands, a smile on his face and Gam curled close against his chest.