#not a care in the world just swinging his arms around like he’s pretending to be a conductor of his own symphony at age 6

[opalemo]

homecoming. ✿

the ache of longing, the spark of anticipation, the joy of reunion. the way they greet you at the airport when you finally arrive home.

xiao / childe / scaramouche & gn reader. just sweet happy moments.

xiao

xiao is scared for an entire week leading up to your return. it’s so stupid how he’s afraid of the thing he wants the most, but he has no idea what he’s supposed to do or how he’s supposed to act. does he buy you gifts? clean your room? bring you flowers? does he act normal or extra nice? does he say he missed you? but you already know that… so should he say he loves you more than anything and never wants you to leave without him again?

okay, he probably can’t manage telling you that without combusting on the spot.

as the date draws nearer xiao feels his heart grow lighter in anticipation - the weight of waiting and longing slowly dissipating as the sun rises over the dawn of your arrival.

he can sense you coming before he even lays eyes on you, bobbing in and out among the sea of other people rushing out and celebrating reunions with their loved ones. anxiety gnaws at his thoughts - what if you’re different? what if you’re unhappy to be back? what if you realised you’re actually better off without him?

“hi, xiao.”

your voice is still as beautiful as ever. so are those eyes, your smile, you. he opens his mouth to say sorry for zoning out and for doubting you for no reason but before he can speak, your hands are on his collar and your lips are on his for the first time in what feels like forever.

your fingertips drag softly across his jaw.

“i’ve missed you”.

xiao’s embrace is gentle in spite of his poorly concealed desperation. you, on the contrary, completely fling yourself into his arms. his hands shake with unbridled excitement, unfamiliar euphoria consuming his very being.

unlike the excruciating grip his mind usually has on him, this feeling is so light in every way.

your laugh bubbles against his chest, and he realises how much he missed the sound - the sound of happiness. yours is his, and his is yours.

childe

you’re on high alert, scanning the rows of people left and right for that familiar mop of ginger hair. with the way your heart is pumping you’d think you were more afraid than excited. after all, dating your beloved ajax of all people means you have to be prepared for a jumpscare at absolutely any second. and the fact that you don’t see him anywhere doesn’t disappoint you or make your heart drop. with the way he was counting down the weeks, days, hours to this moment, there’s no way he would forget or even be a second late to pick you up. it just makes you question what the hell he’s up to this time.

you look down at your phone to check the time and whether or not he’s texted you. nothing yet. you scroll through his instagram to see if he’s uploaded anything. nothing.

you only realise your mistake when you look back up again.

slowly turning around, you come to face that cheeky grin, his smile stretched as wide as ever, and you have to try and contain a laugh at his obvious childlike excitement at being able to sneak up behind you.

it sounds cheesy, but you swear the whole world slows down when you’re finally in his arms again.

childe swings you around about five times and proceeds to squeeze the very life out of you (you can’t breathe and this is literally so embarrassing, but you couldn’t care less). he’s here, he’s alive, and he’s still as annoying as ever - just the way you like (love) him.

scaramouche

to any bystander, it would’ve appeared as if he didn’t even miss you. hell, why was he waiting for you at the airport in the first place? did you coerce him into it? threaten to break up with him?

in fact, he thinks to himself, that sounds more like something i would do.

you don’t even need to look for him when you enter the arrivals area - he’s standing at the back near the exit, hood on, headphones in, arms crossed like some wannabe gangster trying to look intimidating. he pretends not to notice you waving (embarrassingly) at him, but you know he does - you know he’s simply overjoyed to see you.

just expresses it in a strange way is all. not that you’re complaining.

“kuni!” you squeal, letting go of your suitcase to jump into his arms. he uncrosses his arms so fast to catch you (and your suitcase which is now rolling away), holding you tight against his chest like you might fall down and disintegrate if he doesn’t. you can’t see his face, but you know he’s trying so hard to contain a blush and a smile right now.

when he finally lets go to take you to his car, he mutters a “will you stop holding onto me or what?” under his breath.

the audacity.

he kisses you when you get in the car.

[amuromi]

★ ₊ ⊹ ⋆˙ ┈ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ┈ 4.0k

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ┈ NSFW! baby fever!gojo, breeding kink, unprotected sex, established relationship, pet names (mama, baby), pull out method, oral (f!receiving), talks of having kids and starting a family, ooc!gojo(?)

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐀!𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ┈ Gojo seems like he’d be so good with kids! He’s all but adopted Yuuji and actually adopted Megumi. That man would be a great dad.

✮ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 & 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!! ✮

Gojo loves coming home to his apartment smelling like you. His penthouse always has a certain smell to it. Cleaning chemicals courtesy of his maid that dusts away the cobwebs while he’s out of town, and the deep floral scent of his cologne that you love so much. But underneath the artificial smell of wood polish and his signature expensive fragrance is something innately you. 

He can smell your perfume and hear your voice before he’s even kicked off his shoes in the entryway, mumbling through the lyrics of some song as the apartment warms with the smell of your cooking. Gojo has isn’t much of a chef by choice, prefering to eat out or order in, and he’s never really bothered to buy proper groceries. His cabinets are filled with cereals and chips and his fridge is a rotating stock of sugary drinks and sometimes fruits if he remembers to pretend to care about a more balanced diet. Really he has people that buy food for him. His maid or someone else–he never really noticed their salaries leaving his bank account so it really doesn’t matter. They try to leave him with something proper to eat. Meat and vegetables, food that’s actually healthy. Usually he ends up tossing it as the meat spoils and the vegetables rot but you’ve decided to help yourself to whatever he has left, standing over the stove armed with a pair of tongs. 

He wonders how long you’ve been here. He guesses a while since you’ve had time to make yourself comfortable and start cooking. He recognizes the shirt hanging down to your thighs as one of his, plain white and slightly worn–just the type of thing you’d like to steal from him because you like just how good he smells. It’s cute. You’re cute as you swing your hips to the song playing in your earbuds, tending to your cooking without a care in the world. He leans against the island that smells sharp and citrusy and smiles at your thoroughness. Already cleaned the counter to avoid those pesky uncooked chicken germs. You pick up each marinated piece with a gloved hand, fishing the cooked chunks out of the pan to be set aside. 

It’s heart wrenchingly domestic the way you’re always so diligent in the kitchen, attention divided between so many tasks at once. Your gloved hand mixes the bowl of uncooked chicken bits, trying to spread the seasoning on every piece because you hate eating bland food, while your other hand flips the pieces sizzling in the pan. It makes Gojo want to see you occupied even further. It’s mean to want it for you when you always whine about not yet, Satoru whenever he tries to bring up the topic of kids. But, fuck he wants to come home to you just like this with a baby on your hip and another, only a year or two older, hanging onto your leg as your pregnant belly bumps against the edge of the stove. His dick jumps, thickening with excitement at the idea of you having his babies, making you a mama. You deserve it and he knows you want it, too. No matter how much you whine and squirm when he says he’s going to cum inside you. 

Breathy whimpers of, Satoru, no! as you try to sound stern even when you’re bouncing on his cock, greedy pussy sucking him in as he pulls out to fill you with another deep thrust. You get to cream on his dick whenever you want, pussy frothing white rings around his base as he folds you up and fucks you good but he can’t even cum inside, not even once. He could be mean and make you take it, keep bullying your insides even after you cum until you’re crying on his cock and leaking his cum so he can laugh at the tears sparkling in your eyes. 

He watches your ass bounce as you dance, oblivious to his arrival. You’ve got those little black shorts on. The kind that cling tight to your curves and he groans, eyes rolling back behind his tinted glasses. You’re torturing him on purpose, you have to be. There’s no other reason for you to look so fucking perfect right now. You reach over to pick up a piece of lettuce, chewing on the edge of the leaf as you finally catch sight of him in your periphery. He watches you startle, lettuce leaf hanging from your mouth as your eyes widen. Like a goddamn bunny caught in the sights of a wolf. Soft cheeks and bright eyes as you smile and shove the rest of the lettuce into your mouth. 

“Satoru!” You beam at him like you’ve never been happier to see anyone in your life and it makes him melt, folding over the counter to groan his desperation into the cold granite. Fuck! He can imagine what your babies will look like. They’ll be chubby ’cause mama will feed them so well. Fat cheeks and pudgy little arms that’ll cling tight to you whenever you hold them. He wants to see your nose, your lips, your everything in their faces. He couldn’t care less about passing on any of his genetics when he just wants to make more little yous that reach for him when he comes home, little hands opening and closing in his direction while you smile and welcome him home just like you are now. 

“I’m making chicken.” You say, half facing him so you can tend to your cooking and look at him at the same time. 

“Uh huh,” he says dumbly because he’s not really listening. As sweet as it is hearing you tell him about your day he’s just focused on the shape of your lips and the way your nipples poke through the thin fabric of your–his!–shirt. He wants to get his mouth on them. Shove the shirt up under your arms so he can fill his mouth with your tits. He wants to see you squirming as you rub your thighs together, panties soaked as he tugs at your nipples. He wants to tease you with coy quips of “feels good, mama?” as he pries your legs apart so he can rub at your little clit and make you cum with his fingers in your pussy. You’ll be so good for him. Shaking and nodding, trying to muffle your voice behind your hand as you pretend you don’t like when he plays so messily with your chest, slobbering over the soft skin as his tongue flicks over the sensitive little peaks of your nipples. You like it. You love it. Always complaining but cumming the hardest when he’s messy with you. He’ll eat you out after you cum, fingers on your sore clit getting replaced with his lips as he sucks the sensitive nub into his mouth, teeth grazing softly, just enough to make you yelp and tug at his hair as he swallows down your slick. 

Gojo’s hard on is nearly painful in his sweatpants but you can’t tell as you remain on the other side of the island, oblivious to the way he’s palming at himself as you complain about one of your coworkers. Something about fucking up inventory and stealing commissions. 

“You can quit, mama. I’ll take care of you.” His voice is light with amusement but he’s dead serious. He knows you like working, like having something to do with your time. You have friends and a life, an apartment of your own that he absolutely loathes. Why can’t you just live here with him when he so clearly wants to spend all his time spoiling you. Spoiling the pretty little babies you’ll make with him. 

“I like my job, Satoru.” You remind him as you turn off the burner and carry the food over to the island. He hopes you’ll come sit down next to him and catch him touching himself. His cock is drooling in his pants at the mere sight of you. Instead you decide to stand across from him, filling lettuce leaves with rice and chicken and pickled vegetables before shoving the huge bite in your mouth. Your cheeks fatten and he leans forward to poke them, cooing over how cute you are. 

Cute mamas make cute babies and he knows yours will be tooth-rottingly adorable if you just. Let. Him.

“I can give you a new job.” He promises. “Being a mommy is a full-time job. I can make you a mama and you won’t have to worry about anybody bothering you. Promise.” He’s desperate. This isn’t the first time he’s asked and it’ll be far from the last. He won’t stop until you’re saying yes and he’s bending you over and filling you up how you deserve. You laugh, far past being annoyed that he’s so insistent. He imagines it’s hard for you not to find his desperation funny when Gojo Satoru has never wanted for anything in his life. Nothing but you, and now your babies. He wants them. He’ll wait for them. 

“In a little bit, Satoru. We’ve got time, we don’t have to rush it.” But he wants to rush it. And is it really rushing if he’s been thinking about it for months. Sure, you’re young but he wants babies. Plural! He wants to have at least three of them. Maybe four or five if you’ll let him. As many as he can breed you for. He’ll fill you up until you start begging for him to pull out again every time he fucks you and then he’ll go back to pouting as his babies get older with no new additions to the family. He wants a litter, a ridiculous amount. The kind of family that needs a minivan and maybe a nanny to help manage all your little babies. He has the money, you know he does. He can afford it but you’re just so mean and patient about it. Gojo can be patient but he really doesn’t want to be when it comes to you. 

He can never wait to get home to see you, can’t wait to get you in bed, can’t wait for your future together. He wants it now, now, now! but he lets you say no. Of course he does. He knows it’ll be a yes someday when you decide you’ve tortured him enough. You’ve already said you want lots of kids or else why would he even consider the thought. You’re so mean to him. Planting that thought in his head and letting it grow like a weed so now he’s always thinking about baby names and maybe buying a house with a big yard and a dog for the kids to play with. 

Fuck, you drive him insane. Smiling sweetly like it isn’t your fault he’s already thinking about nursery colors and the safest model of car. He’s a bit lax with looking after himself but he’ll make damn sure to take no chances taking care of his family. He eats the food you made, legs spread to relieve some of the tension as he watches you pack the rest of the food up and put labels on each container. It makes him think about packing lunches for school and he pushes away his half eaten plate to drag you to bed. 

He kisses you when you complain that he hasn’t finished his food, that he must be hungry ’cause he just got home and it makes his cock hard all over again. It went soft as he was listening to you tell a story about a rude customer while he mused about family safe pets and what to name them. That wholesomeness is gone in an instant as he sucks your tongue into his mouth, swallowing your protests as spit starts to leak from the corners of your mouth. Because how can you still be so cutely attentive when he’s been giving you pointed looks over the edge of his glasses, tongue poking into his cheek in the way he does only when he’s thinking about stripping you out of your clothes. You’re babbling about price matching and expired coupons while he’s trying his best to remind himself that he can’t knock you up and give you a new little person to take care of the moment he gets you on his dick. But fuck does he want to. 

And you’re not making it any easier for him. Pawing at his shoulders and asking what’s got him so worked up like you don’t just need to exist in his proximity for his mind to start melting into thoughts of giving you his cock just the way you like. The bed is made and he knows he hadn’t done it before he left and his maid wasn’t scheduled to come through until next Wednesday. So fucking perfect. Tidying the house and making food so he’d have something nice to come home to but he’s not supposed to reward you with his cum spilling out of your little pussy? Yeah, okay. 

“Need you.” He mumbles as he pushes you down on the freshly fluffed pillows. “Need you so fucking bad, mama. You’ll let me, yeah? I can have you, right, baby?” You nod, murmuring, “I’m all yours, Satoru” as he pulls your shirt over your head and shoves those tight little shorts down your thighs. You’re not wearing panties and he nearly creams in his pants at the way your puffy little pussy is already shiny with arousal. Just some kisses and sweet words and you’re already dripping for him. Gojo groans, feeling grateful to have you because who else could be this perfect for him. He tosses his glasses aside to look at you properly. All wet lips and eager smiles as you wait for him to take care of you in the way only he can. He’s sure you’re gonna kill him someday. 

He gets his mouth on your tits just like he wanted, groaning at the taste of your skin as he sucks on the pert little bud. Your breath hitches and the little sound would’ve sent him to his knees if he wasn’t laid out on top of you like a weighted blanket, leg slung over your squirming thighs as he makes a mess of your tits. Licking and sucking each one until they’re both wet with his spit and you’re shaking on the edge of an orgasm. He lets you have it, looking down to watch the way your thighs tremble pitifully as your pussy clenches around nothing. It’s fucking hot and he shoves his pants down his hips just enough to squeeze at his cock, flushed a deep angry red from how long he’s been neglecting it. 

Gojo groans against the plushness of your breast, breathy little pants puffing over your abandoned nipples as he jerks off like he’s never seen tits before. He cums fast, spilling over your tummy in short streaks. It’s pitiful but it takes the edge off enough for him to treat you the way you deserve. His shirt is tossed aside as he mouths at your tummy, licking up the mess he made so he can share his taste with you. He’s already half hard again as you suck on his tongue. He spits in your mouth just to hear you yelp and wiggle like you don’t get stars in your eyes when he treats you dirty. Your thighs are clenched tight, knees knocking as you try to find some relief in the meager friction. Gojo bullies your legs apart as he leaves hot, wet kisses down your body. Prints of his lips shining down your sternum and over the softness of your tummy. He takes extra time to love on it, nuzzling against you because that’s where his babies are gonna go. 

He can’t wait for it. The bump of your belly and swelling of your tits. He knows you’re gonna complain–rightfully so!–about your sore back and swollen ankles and he’ll be there to coo and cajole you into being nicer to yourself as your body changes to accommodate the new life you’re growing for him. He grinds against the bed as he noses his way between your legs. Your thighs snap closed around his head as he tongues you from fluttering hole to twitching clit and he moans. All he can smell, feel, hear is you as your hips buck up into his greedy mouth. 

Gojo throws an arm over your hips and you fall still immediately under his strength but he can still feel the little aborted shifts of your weight that make him laugh against your cunt. He thumbs back the hood of your clit and he makes a show of sucking hard on the little nub, watching your eyes flutter and back arch as you gush around his fingers. He doesn’t stop even as you cream on his tongue, slicking up his face with your cum. He pulls away with a lewd pop! and smacks his lips ’cause he knows how much you hate when he does that. 

His smile is shiny and cruel as his fingers hook against your gummy walls, still pulsing as he drags the pads of his fingertips over that sweet spot. Your lips part but you have no breath in your lungs to make any noise and Gojo wants to spit on your tongue again, let you taste how good you were for him. He winds your body tight, not giving you a break until you’re whimpering and trying to push his hand away, tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“It’s okay, mama, I got you.” He doesn’t leave you empty for even a minute, rubbing the wet head of his cock over your clit before pushing inside you with a hiss. 

“Gotta let me in, baby.” He coos when you clench too tight for him to push further. It feels so good the way you’re gripping his cock but he wants to be deeper. He’s only halfway inside and he knows you can take more. You can take all of him. His thumb finds your clit even though he knows it probably hurts by now, flushed and sore as he traces smooth circles over the swollen bud. 

“Satoru, s’too much!” You hiccup, trying to pry his hand away even when he’s being so purposefully gentle. 

“I’m being good.” He pants. “Treating her real nice. Just gotta let me in, mama. Let me in so I can fill you up how you want.” He’s lost in his daydream, imagining finally filling you up, making you take him and grow him a little baby. His free hand pets over your belly as he tries to get deeper with each shallow thrust. And when he pops past that last bit of resistance, Gojo fucking collapses. He buries his face in your neck and goes still. It feels like he’s fucking melting with all the wet heat milking his cock and it doesn’t help that he can feel your pulse fluttering against his panting mouth, and feel your hips trying to buck against him. 

“Please, please,” you pants helplessly. “Love you, please!”

“Mm, love you, too, baby. Gotta gimme a minute,” he laughs, pretending he didn’t almost break his promise and paint your insides white the second you let him all the way inside. You’re the one that wants him to be careful but you’re mewling and moving like you wouldn’t mind if he came right now, pressed right up against your cervix. He bites a bruise into your shoulder to distract himself before pulling his hips back to bully his way back inside with a deep stroke. 

He’s mean about it because he’s pouting. He can’t have what he wants even though it’s so close. He won’t push his luck but he can still be upset about it as he fucks you into the bed. His tongue licks up beads of sweat as they drip down the hollows of your throat, teeth worrying bruises over your shoulder because he knows you don’t like when he leaves too many marks on your neck. He’s so nice and attentive and has you absolutely wailing, nails digging into his back as your legs lock around his waist, but he still can’t have what he wants. 

“Please, mama?” He tries one last time as he feels you starting to pulse around him. Your eyes meet and he swipes a messy kiss that’s more spit and tongue than a proper kiss over your mouth before he lets you answer. It’s the same “later, Satoru!” he always gets, yet he still can’t help but be a little disappointed as his balls tighten at the feeling of you cumming on his cock with a wail. There’s a sticky sound as he pulls back, webs of wetness strung between the two of you where you’ve turned his cock white with your drooling pussy. He almost whines at the sight, pressing back inside even as you shiver because he’s so close and this warmth will only last a few moments longer. He gives you long, hard strokes that drag out the last edge of your orgasm. 

“So mean.” You pout even though your legs don’t want to let him go as he pulls out. He leaves just the head inside you, stroking his soaked shaft with quick strokes. It’s a dangerous game to be playing but he thinks he’s earned it by being so patient with you. He pulls out at the absolute last second, jerking off onto your stomach because if he can’t put it in there he can at least mark where he wants it to go. 

“Right here, baby.” He groans, leaning over you with one hand on your waist while the other squeezes every last drop of cum from his cock. “That’s where I’m gonna put ’em. That’s where all my cute babies are gonna go, right, mama?” He smiles and he knows it’s patronizing but you’re all too happy to indulge him. 

“Yeah,” you push your hand in beside his as he thumbs at your stomach. “Yeah, right there. I’ll keep ’em in there for you, baby.” 

“Yeah, you will.” You promised. Someday. Not never, just not right now. He’s still impatient but post-nut clarity has sort of straightened his head out as he curls up next to you. He bats your hand away when you try to wipe the mess of his cum off your tummy. 

“It’s gross.” You complain just like he knew you would but you don’t try again. His room has lost the scent of cleaning chemicals and cologne as the smell of sex seeps into every crevice. He can smell your sweat and the scent of your cunt and he’s content to go to sleep without changing the soiled sheets. He’s almost there, lulled by the even sound of your breathing but he still gets up to get you water and a washcloth. He hums in sympathy as you squirm while he cleans the mess between your legs, swiping through your sensitive folds with a careful attentiveness. He stares at the dry mess of his cum on your skin for a little while longer before wiping that away too. You sip your water and remind him to go finish eating and he nearly pops a boner again because you really don’t know how to turn off your charm. 

“Later. Promise I’ll eat later. Jus’ wanna lay with you right now.” He murmurs and slings his leg back over yours. You’re both naked now and slightly sticky from all the sweat but he clings to you anyway. Your fingers find his hair, nails brushing over his scalp gently as you go back to humming. Gojo can’t tell if you’re doing it on purpose or if you’re singing absently to yourself but he can’t help but imagine what it’ll be like to watch you sing lullabies to your babies. Yeah, later can’t come soon enough. 

[arminsumi]

SUGURU LEARNING THE PIANO FOR YOU.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 — 夏油傑

NOTE: pls ignore errors this is just a silly little fluff idea that popped into my head and i wrote it in one swing without planning so yes anyways REQUESTS ARE OPEN gimme all ur suguru/satoru/satosugu thoughts pls i accept fluff n smut n angst 🫡 or if u just wanna chat i promise i don't bite hehe

WARNINGS — lowercase used, fem reader, suguru calls you 'princess' once, a small bit of angst and self-deprecation (Suguru), kinda implied that satosugu both crush on you in college, gojo teasing you two bc he's an annoying little shit and i love him for that

JJK works

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 — サクランボ ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

you met him when he was in his final year of high school, in the music room during after a practice lesson with his uptight teacher.

geto suguru was a little bit of a showoff, especially when he saw your face walk into the room. some friends and others hung around him — you know, he's just that kinda person that people want to hang around and be close to and talk to even if they have nothing of interest to say.

he was thumbing at a bass, eyeing you out without making it obvious. each time you tried to speak, someone interrupted like a twittering bird, and it annoyed him like nothing else.

so the next time you two met delighted him — because you were left alone. at first he pretended not to notice you coming in, but he had sharp ears and definitely heard the soft thumping of your footsteps. he had his eyes fixed on his guitar, twisting and turning the pegs at the head, testing until it was tuned to perfection. and then played something smooth and sultry, a melody that wove through the seats and other standing instruments right over to you.

"hey suguru."

"oh hey, didn't notice you there." he lied, voice as smooth and deep as the notes he had just played.

"mind if i listen?" you asked, taking a seat close to him — but not close enough for him. he wanted you closer. oh well, he decided that he'd use his talented fingers to allure you into closer proximity.

"of course." he smiled and continued playing nonchalantly.

that nonchalance is what caught so many high school girl's hearts. he never stopped being popular with the ladies even in college.

and come college, he picked up another instrument to learn; the piano. difficult. challenging. annoying. despite the benefit of his long fingers and naturally graceful movements, it just didn't come as naturally to him as stringed instruments.

but he knew you liked the piano, or so he thought, because he heard you compliment it once when satoru played piano in front of you.

so he asked his best friend, "can you teach me to play this song? it's y/n's favorite." naively thinking that it would be simple. a week is all it took for him to start letting out exasperated sighs over the keyboard.

"suguru, don't be so harsh on yourself." satoru said after hearing a self-deprecating speech from him, "piano is hard. you need a lot of patience, especially if it doesn't come naturally."

"i'm clumsy." suguru sighed, eyes saddening at the sight of his fingers resting over the black and white keys. "i don't think y/n will care to hear her favorite song being played so poorly. she'll force a compliment out of kindness. she's sweet like that."

"it's been a week." satoru shook his head, bumping legs with suguru as he changed his sitting position on the piano seat. "no one in the world is gonna be even averagely good at the piano in a week - that's impossible unless you're — "

" — a real prodigy. like someone i know." suguru smiled, teasing his best friend out of nowhere. "ah, satoru, what i'd give to have a crumb of your talent right now."

he earned a sympathetic arm around his shoulders.

"must suck to be talentless." satoru joked, "kidding. keep practicing, i wanna see those hands moving when i come back. want anything from the store?"

"diet coke." suguru said, "and something spicy? thanks."

when the white-haired boy lankily strode out of the music theater, the atmosphere became somberly quiet. it was a big theater, much bigger than the cramped music room back in high school.

just when suguru had began lamely practicing again, you walked in. he was so caught up in self-deprecating thoughts, so distracted by his own inner criticism, that he didn't notice.

"hey suguru." you greeted, giving him the fright of his life — he visibly jumped, causing a jarring sound to whine from the piano.

"hey? hey! what — hey." he freaked out for a second, then composed himself, "good to see you again, where you been?"

"i'm sorry — prof's been on my ass about missing assignments. and sorry for never replying to messages," you chuckled nervously, coming to an idle stand next to the piano as he watched you. "i'm so shit at texting."

"that you are..." he laughed with you, "but i'm not much better. i prefer talking face-to-face." and he thought to himself; especially if it's your face.

you smiled at him. a small silence passed, then you nodded at the piano and inquired about it. "practicing?"

"yeah... kind of."

"can i listen?"

he began to blush. you'd never seen him blush before that. it was so subtle that you were almost unsure if it really was blush — or just a trick of the noon light streaming in through the tiny square windows.

"i'm really bad." suguru responded self-consciously, nervously wiping his palms on his dress pants.

"don't care, i wanna listen." you pushed, catching hint of his self-consciousness and deciding to attempt to break through it.

"ah, 'nything for my princess, i guess." he chuckled softly under his breath. he'd started using that nickname with you only recently, 'cause he'd been falling more and more in love than in high school.

so he sat and played the piano for you.

awkward notes, some smooth and purposeful — others a noticeable mistake. he grimaced at those mistakes, you had to laugh.

"hey..." you hummed in realization as he played. his eyes flicked up at you from the piano. "that sounds familiar." you said, "learning chopin so early? isn't that a bit advanced?"

"it is, yeah... but i wanted to learn it for y- because i like him. he's great right?"

"mhm..." you smiled at suguru. "i wouldn't have expected you to like him. actually, it's really surprising you're learning piano at all — why did you decide to?"

suguru froze up for a moment.

"i don't know. i just wanted to." he shrugged, lying very smoothly with that voice of flowing rivers.

"it's just that... you've always talked about how bass and guitar are your beloveds, and you'd never touch anything else. so that's why i'm curious."

he froze up again. you were catching onto him, so he just admitted it as nonchalantly as possible.

"i wanted to learn it because you like it."

that made your heart thump a bit more wildly than it already was from being in his presence. something about suguru is that he's capable of making hearts race just with his voice alone.

"really?" you felt the crown of your cheeks warm up, a heat spreading down to your jawline. his face was going completely red.

"yeah?" he swallowed, almost choking, looking away. his pretty hands lightly rested on the keys. you wondered for a second about how it would feel to have them cupping your cheeks.

"that's really sweet of you... thank you." you said sincerely.

maybe it was the effect of your gaze, or your sincerity, or both, but he felt like it was hard to breathe.

"damn, the tension!" satoru's voice boomed, abruptly breaking the quiet between you and suguru. "i could cut it with a knife. you two should just kiss already — i bought popcorn, let me watch." he lifted a convenience store bag.

"satoru, how long have you been standing there!" you laughed nervously.

"a while. you guys would definitely be the first to die in a horror movie." he said, the liveliness of his voice such a jarring contrast for your ears.

suguru's face was still red. your fists were curled up and laid on the edge of the piano.

"okay, just blurt it out already you two! so frustrating! this isn't a damn slow burn romance novel, just get together already."

"shut up," you laughed embarrassedly, "damn third wheel."

"i am not the third wheel — y/n, if you date suguru you're also dating me i hope y'know that. that's just how it works."

suguru let out an incredulous laugh. "oh my god, please, satoru."

"what? just being honest — don't look at me like that y/n i didn't mean i like you!" now satoru started blushing, "i'm just saying!" and then proceeded to over-explain himself while you and suguru dissolved into laughter.

[jeonbunnie]

promises

pairing: reader x namjoon

summary: marriage life with namjoon hasn’t been the same lately. he’s been cold and distant, always whispering on the phone. and you can’t help but notice…

genre: angst

content/warnings: established relationship; married!au; idol!namjoon; cheating/infidelity; implied sex; eventual smut; explicit sex

soundtrack: lemonade by beyoncé

a/n: this used to be a series but I decided to rework it into a oneshot. The plot is mostly the same, however now the reader gets to choose the big decision at the end (kind of like a choose your own adventure).

word count: 18k

Pray you catch me

♪ you can taste the dishonesty/ it's all over your breath, as you pass it off so cavalier. but even that's a test/constantly aware of it all/my lonely ear/pressed against the walls of your world. ♪

. . .

Something is wrong.

You don’t know how or when things changed, but something shifted between the two of you. There is a distance now, more tangible than the miles that separate you from him when he’s on business trips. Farther than the long-distance phone calls that became less and less frequent. Even now, as you lay in the same bed with him only a few feet away you can tell.

Something is wrong.

Because you can’t remember a time when you and Namjoon had ever been so far apart.

He would always come home late at night. Languid footsteps trailing towards the bedroom. Eyes tired and red from too many hours spent awake working on the newest album. Gravity pulled him down in a slump that could only be from the heaviness of leadership, from carrying the weight of the entire group.

And though he was exhausted, he would still find a way to come and take care of you. Even dead-tired, his warm brown eyes would light up and his lips would curl at the sight of you. He’d make his way over and pull you close, until your bodies became an entangled mess of arms and legs, chests pressed together as you curled into each other's warmth. His fingers would run soothingly through your hair and he’d ask you how your day went. The moments you spent within his arms seemed to make even the bad days good.

But it's been a long time since your husband held you close and melted away your bad days.

The clock on your nightstand reads 1:23 AM in angry red letters when his phone goes off in the middle of the night. You can hear the sheets rustle and feel whatever is left of his presence slip away as he sits up, answering on the second ring. “Hello?” Before you can even stop yourself the words are flying out of your mouth. “Who is it?”

The woman who speaks sounds nothing like you. Her voice is broken and fragile, spiked with worry and fear. He shrugs his shoulders and rolls his eyes because, “It’s just Yoongi.” The lie rolls off his tongue effortlessly. You are already hurting and the way he brushes you off tears right through you.

It’s not Yoongi. You know better. Your husband’s best friend loves his sleep and would never stir in the middle of the night. You want to confront him, put all your thoughts out in the open but before you can even gather the courage, he stands up, makes his way across the room and closes the door behind him, leaving you alone.

Again.

Somehow you can’t decide what’s more unsettling: the loneliness you feel when your husband leaves or the loneliness you feel when he’s around.

You are too unnerved to go back to sleep. Not that you are sleeping anyways. Now that you are truly awake to the situation before you, sleep does not come. You’ve been staying up for days, eyes wide open. But it was more than just insomnia. Your mind is awake with all the possibilities, visualizing every single scenario. You can’t close your eyes because in an instant you are there. Thinking about it all over again. You can't ignore it, nor pretend not to see it. You are not blind anymore. And so sleep does not come.

With every nerve on edge you throw back the covers and swing your legs out of bed. You can’t just lay there trapped within your own mind. You need a distraction—any distraction from the truth. Even if the only release you can find is putting your body into motion. You find yourself pacing back and forth, frazzled energy bouncing from one point to another.

Until you hear him laugh. It’s a deep and throaty noise that breaks through the walls and interrupts your racing thoughts. You find yourself tiptoeing closer to the sound, trying to be as quiet as you possibly can so you can creep up and press your ear up against the door to listen. How desperate you are, eavesdropping like this. You feel ashamed for sinking this low, but that shame does not stop you from wondering if you should get the glass from your nightstand so you can hear him better. If you could only hear what he was saying! But the words are muffled, like he’s talking underwater.

He used to talk to you all the time, share his innermost thoughts, his nightmares, his dreams. Talk to you about everything and nothing. Work and play. Past and present. But now, nothing.

Now all you got were glimpses of his world.

You used to be his world.

The realization leaves you cold and you press yourself closer to the light trickling through the cracked door. You can see him now. His back is turned towards you and he’s hunched over, phone clutched to his ear like he’s trying to keep all his secrets from spilling out of it. In that moment, you pray he will turn around so you can read his lips and decode whatever it is he’s whispering huskily into the receiver. You pray he will turn around and catch you. You wonder what he will do. Will he jump? Will he be angry?

Ironically, out of all the times you’ve prayed for God to answer you during your marriage, this is the prayer God answers because it happens. He turns around.

You expect to see the face of a cruel man. You could not have prepared yourself for what you do see. Because when he finally turns around, it’s not the face of a monster, but the face of your first love. Namjoon is smiling. Smiling. This is the moment your heart breaks. When was the last time he smiled at you like that? Pink lips pulled back, pearly whites gleaming. Dimples flashing in his cheeks. The way his eyes squint into tiny crescent moons.

When was the last time he smiled at you like that? You can’t remember. Your mind flickers through the memories filed in your head, though each image never seems to be quite right. Maybe because they are now clouded with suspicion. Was that last smile real? Or merely a mask?

The fact that you can’t be sure made you anxious. You can’t tell the difference because you didn’t know him anymore. Where was the man you loved? This person you do not recognize. His eyes are dark, lit with the desire you once thought was only reserved for you. You watch as his lips curl from a smile into a wicked grin.

Something is wrong.

You tried to fix it. The problem. You. It had you be you, didn’t it? Maybe he wanted someone more gentle. You tried to be meek, mild, and kind. Soft spoken, as you were always previously so assertive. You didn’t want to chase him off with harsh words or accusations. You wanted to be what he wanted. You thought that maybe he wanted someone sexy, so you tried to be that too. You made your eyes smokey and put on red dresses, even though you hated the color red. You wanted to be enough. You tried everything to get his attention, but it made no difference. You still ended up in this exact moment.

A sigh slips past your lips, almost a whimper. It’s the sound of loss.

This is when he sees you.

His smile disappears. Then he walks forward and closes the door in your face, shutting out the light and leaving you in darkness.

. . .

When he comes back to bed—wearing a scent that is distinctly not yours—it’s 5AM. He kisses your forehead and climbs underneath the sheets, yet the distance between you remains. Maybe you already know the answer to the questions that keep swirling in your mind. You don't want to believe that he broke his vows. But that hope does not stop the doubt you feel every time you look at his face.

Are you cheating on me?

Don’t Hurt Yourself

♪ I am the dragon breathing fire. Beautiful man I’m the lion Beautiful man I know you’re lying…. ♪

. . .

It is quiet in your house. The sun and it’s warm amber glow have long since disappeared, fading into black. The stillness is unusual. Normally you hate such things, always needing some sort of noise playing in the background like the tv or the radio while you clean up and do work, but not today. You need the silence so you can collect your thoughts and prepare yourself for what you are about to do.

You are done being passive. Sick and tired of sitting and waiting around for a man who did not so much as blink an eye at you. You are done crying. You already cried so much. All your tears have dried up and gone away. You can’t bring yourself to be sad anymore. There isn’t any room for you to hold inside two emotions. Especially when all you can feel now is anger.

You are mad as hell.

So you came home from work and sat down on the couch, waiting on him for one last time. Head held high, poised and collected. Muscles coiled and ready to pounce.

Just like clockwork, keys slide into the door and Namjoon comes in at a quarter to three, completely unaware of the situation he just stepped into. Looking up he stops, surprised to find you sitting in the living room. He can feel something is off. Sense it in your body language, see the difference in your eyes. For a minute, he wonders if you know what he’s been doing all night long...but that’s impossible right? How could you possibly know?

But you did know.

You watched nonchalantly as he flashed a casual grin your way. “Hey babe...what are you doing up so late?“ You didn’t respond right away, taking the time to examine him closely before you decide to speak.

“Where were you tonight?”

The second the words leave your mouth there’s a shift in the atmosphere. Thick silence fills the space between you, but your eyes never leave him. You see him blink, catch the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows down a gulp, note a flicker of emotion pass in his face too brief to figure out the expression. Was that fear? Was he nervous?

But then he laughs. It’s almost a scoff as his eyebrows pull together he shakes his head in what masks as confusion. “What?”

“I know you heard me Namjoon, I’m not going to ask you again.”

“What are you talking about? I was with the guys tonight, we—”

“Don’t,” you stop him, holding up a hand. ”Don’t do that. Don’t lie to my face. I am so tired of you lying to me, please for once just be honest.”

He doesn’t say a word, only sighs and runs his fingers through silver locks and as unsatisfactory as it is, you realize this action is the closest you’ll ever get to a confession. But it’s not enough. Your hands come up to rest on your face almost like prayer before you ask your next question.

“Did you sleep with her?”

“God (Y/N), are we really doing this right now?”

Anger presses up against your chest and before you know it, you’re on your feet. “Yes, Namjoon, we are really doing this right now. Because I can’t stand one more minute of this fake marriage. I’m not stupid. I see you! And I’m not going to pretend like I don’t anymore.”

“Fine. Fine! What do you want me to say, huh? What do you want?”

“I want the truth!”

He fixes his gaze, eyes locked on you. “Oh, you want the truth? Ok here’s the truth. Yes, I was with her tonight, and yes I fucked her, and it was the best goddamn fuck I’ve had in months. Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now?”

His words hit you like a bullet to the heart. No, you weren’t happy. You wanted his candor but not this. His tone...the way he was talking to you...You almost couldn’t believe it. How could he? The man you called your husband would never so much as raise his voice towards you. Yet here he was, spitting out cruelty. The brutality of his words mixed with his contempt was too much. Your nails dug into the couch as you tried to steady yourself, tried to push through the pain.

Your mind was swimming with information, trying to come to terms with the new knowledge but one question still lingered. You had to ask:

“Why?”

“Fuck, why? I’m on tour all the time, It’s not like you’re around?”

Are you kidding me?

Whatever pain you felt quickly turned to anger and you whipped around to face him.

“Who the fuck do you think I am Namjoon?! You didn’t marry one of your little groupies. I have a job and a life! I can’t just drop everything and follow you around the world like some love-sick puppy!”

“Yeah well, maybe if you did I wouldn’t have needed to find someone else.”

The nerve of this man!

“So you want my entire world to revolve around you? You are so selfish! As if I don’t already do everything for you. I cook, when you come home at night there’s dinner on the table. I keep this house spotless, but it’s not like you’re even here to notice--”

“I’m not here cuz I’m too busy working the job that got you this house in the first place!”

“Wow. So it’s ok for you to be away from me on your job, but if I can’t be there for you then I’m the problem?” You stared him in the face, only to be met with a glare to rival your own.

“You’re a real piece of work Namjoon.”

How is it that he could look at your relationship and see only your flaws, but never his own? You should have known better than to put all your faith in a man with a god-complex. He only ever cared about himself and his own career. All he had were excuses. You started to walk away from him when his next words stopped you in your tracks.

“Oh please, don’t act like you’re so perfect. It’s not like you haven’t done it.”

You cast an incredulous look over your shoulder. “Excuse me?”

Just what is he trying to imply?

Namjoon rolled his eyes. “Now who’s playing dumb. I’m not stupid either, I know you’re seeing him behind my back.”

This again? “How many times do I have to tell you, Jackson is just a friend.”

“You’re a fucking liar. He doesn’t look at you like ‘just a friend’, I know you slept with him.”

Now you were furious. You took several steps towards him till you were so close you could feel his heated breath on your face. “Let’s not get it twisted, I’m not the cheater—You are!” you said, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You don’t get to put this on me! You and I both know I’m not the one who’s unfaithful!”

By the end of your sentence you found yourself out of breath, panting. You were shouting the entire time. Unable to keep the fire inside; your fury, abated. You looked at your husband, finally eye to eye and sighed.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” You spoke, your voice coming out much softer than either of you had expected. “I wouldn't do anything to disrespect you like the way you disrespect me.”

Once again silence swelled within the room and all you could do was look at him and wonder how you had ended up here. The two of you never used to fight, not like this. It was never this bad. But things were different now.

“W-why did you do this to me? To us?” On your wedding day you both took vows to be united as one in this relationship. He was hurting himself just as much as he was hurting you but he was so wrapped up in his own pride that he couldn't see it.

“Are you even sorry?”

Namjoon didn't say a word.

You closed your eyes and counted to ten, trying to find some kind of peace. But by the time you finished counting your anger still hadn't subsided. You couldn't find peace because there was no peace here.

Everything in this relationship was so, so hard. You couldn't pick up the broken shards of your relationship all by yourself and he wasn't even trying to fix it.

“I can't—I can't do this anymore”

Namjoon narrowed his eyes. “Can't do what anymore?”

“This!” You yelled, throwing your arms out.

“You. Me. Us. I can’t do it anymore and I don't want to.”

And with that you spun on your heel making a direct line for the bedroom. You could hear him follow behind you, but you didn't care. Your mind was focusing on something else now.

All you cared about was getting the hell out of there. You went into the closet and pulled out an overnight bag, snatching clothes off hangers and stuffing them inside.

“What are you doing?”

You had to laugh at his question. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m leaving you.”

You didn’t stop packing. After taking out enough clothes you grabbed your bag and walked out of the closet. On your way you caught a glimpse of Namjoon with a blank expression on his face.

“Don’t tell me you're actually surprised?”

Brushing past him, you made your way to the bathroom. “I was so blindly in love with you that even when I knew—I knew what you were doing, I tried to stay. But I deserve better. I deserve so much more than you.”

After gathering the rest of your stuff you turn around to walk out the door only to find Namjoon leaning against the frame. Taking in his image made your steps falter.

He looked strong and athletic in a white muscle tee. His arms were crossed over his chest, a gesture built out of displeasure, but only served to highlight the curve of his biceps. When you finally tore your eyes away from his body and up to look at his face, you sighed. He was clenching his jaw, showing off all his angles while his lips pushed out into the perfect pout. His eyes as always were dark, intense, and fixed on you.

Well, not always fixed on you.

He was so beautiful and you hated him for it. Or rather how he made you feel. He could still make your heart skip a beat even as it was breaking.

Yes, you still loved him. But clearly his love for you didn’t run quite as deep.

“So what now? You want a divorce? You signed the prenup. You're not going to get any money out of me.” He growled, voice deep and raspy.

There he goes again, always so damn arrogant…..His words served as a reminder. This is why you had to go. You broke eye contact, concentrating on zipping up your bag. “You can keep your money. I’ve got my own, and I can take care of myself.”

You crossed in front of him, swiftly taking a pair shoes then sitting on the bed to put them on. It dawned on you that he didn’t even ask you to stay. But then again, although it hurt to make this decision, you didn’t have to blink away any tears.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

You laced up your shoes, pulling the strings tight. “I don’t know.” You snapped. “Since you seem to think all I do is sneak around behind your back, maybe I’ll go see Jackson. Or maybe I’ll go out and find me another man. All I know is, I’m never coming back to you. I can promise you that.”

You weren’t playing nice but you were honestly so done with his attitude, mistreatment, and all the pain he caused you. Confident in your decision, you got your bag and stood up, striding towards the exit.

“Hey!”

You ignored him.

“Don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you!”

“Kiss my ass, Namjoon!” You sassed, walking out the door and out of his life.

Resentment

♪ I may never understand why. I’m doing the best that I can. And I tried, and I tried to forget this. But I’m much too full of resentment…

. . .

Kim Namjoon knew you would probably leave him if you found out about his affair.

You weren’t the type of woman to let yourself be walked all over, and honestly he was surprised you’d let him get away with it for so long. For months you put up with the late night calls, the sneaking around, the constant lies...And he watched the light dim in your eyes as he broke his vows. It wasn’t like he wanted to cheat on you—not at first.

But anytime he was away from you on tour he just got so lonely.

Sure he had his bandmates and his fans but when the stage lights turned off and the cheers died down none of that was enough to keep him going. Whenever he got by himself it’s like the floodgates opened up. And all the pressure, the high expectations, the push for success, the hate, all of it came washing over him.

And Namjoon felt like he was drowning in it.

As much as he wanted to tell you what ailed him, he didn’t wanna put you under any more stress. You were already constantly worrying about his welfare, filled to the brim with your own concerns. He didn’t think it fair to make you shoulder his burdens as well. But holding all his feelings inside only made things worse.

The helplessness, the anxiety...he just wanted to make it go away. Even if only for a moment. And that’s all it was. A moment of weakness.

The first time it happened he regretted it immediately. He stayed up the whole night, staring at the ceiling, consumed by his guilt. It was the biggest mistake he had ever made. He planned to go home and just come clean, tell you everything that happened. Then beg and beg for your forgiveness.

All he could do on the plane ride back home was pray to God you would somehow take him back.

But then he saw your face. The bright smile you gave him when he walked in the door and heard the joy in your voice as you greeted him. Felt your love as you curled into his embrace, nudged your head in the crook of his neck and whispered “I missed you so much”.

How could he tell you the truth then? How could he tell you what he had done, that he’d broken his promise and given himself to another? He wasn’t even on stage, yet here you were, looking at him with stars in your eyes. You were the only person who truly knew him, flaws included, and despite it all you still loved him.

He couldn’t watch the love and devotion in your eyes turn to hatred and disgust. He couldn’t cope with the reality of the situation. The fact that your heart might close to him forever, that you might leave him.

And then he’d really be alone.

No, that couldn’t happen. If you left..? At the time, he hadn’t wanted to even think about it. So instead of doing the right thing and being honest he closed himself off. If only to keep himself from breaking down. Everytime he looked at you he felt ashamed of his actions. It didn’t feel right, lying to you. Maintaining a distance was the only way he could keep his secret a secret.

The second time it happened, it wasn’t a mistake. A mistake repeated more than once is a decision. And when temptation swept by, manifesting itself in long legs and a warm body to hold at night, Namjoon couldn’t resist.

The guilt hit him just as hard, if not harder than the last time. If he had to face you in that moment without a doubt he would have spilled out all the ugly truth. But it didn’t happen that way. He was on tour for an even longer time than usual, and the separation gave him more than enough time to compose himself, to bury the guilt far enough where it would not resurface. But in doing so he had to become a different person to you. Hard. Cold to the touch.

It affected him as much as it affected you. With every shrug and look of indifference, every evasion he could feel himself slipping further and further away from the man he wanted to be, from the man that you deserved.

And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to stop.

The third time it happened, you knew. Even now he couldn’t figure out what tipped you off. He knew there wasn’t any lipstick on his cheek or lingering perfume (Namjoon was stupid for cheating, but he wasn’t that stupid). Nothing tangible to hold your suspicion but you felt it. You questioned him, asking things like ‘what’s wrong?’ and ‘did something happen tonight?’, each inquiry only put him on edge and he snapped at you, starting a fight to distract you from the truth.

That night he left home, seeking comfort in the arms of the first girl he cheated with. He crossed a line that night. He knew he shouldn’t have met with her. But she already put her number in his phone and he was too much of a coward to be left alone with his thoughts in a hotel room. But in doing so he opened up pandora's box. He lay in her bed as she stroked his ego, telling him how important he was, how much better he deserved.

And soon enough he started to believe it. That he was better than you and that you were somehow, not enough for him. His superiority somehow justified him stepping outside his marriage. He found himself faultless, thinking it was your job to keep his interest and if he wasn’t happy, it was only his right to seek out happiness elsewhere.

But now, sitting alone in this dark house, all Namjoon could see was how wrong he was. So very, very wrong.

Months. You’ve been gone for months now. At first, he barely missed you. He didn’t have to. The very next day he had to fly out to Tokyo for a concert and he went back to his regular routine. Practice. Performing. Parties. The occasional girl to keep him satisfied. He didn’t need you then. And why would he? When he had all the people surrounding him, screaming his name. Singing his praises. He had no need to miss you until he went home. And that's when reality sunk in.

He came home to more than just an empty house. As the days rolled by he came to realize just how much you took care of him. Not just as a homemaker but as a mate. You were his heart, the sun and moon, his entire world. Namjoon could have killed the man who said you don’t know what you have until it’s gone because as cliché as it was, the expression couldn’t have been more accurate and the truth stabbed him like a knife.

The loneliness he felt when without you was ten times worse than when he was with you.

Your presence had a bigger impact on him than he could have imagined. Something about your ambience was instantly calming. Even if you weren’t doing anything together, whether it be just sitting on the couch or laying in bed beside him your being there gave him peace.

He tried to fill the void, find your image in the millions of girls that threw themselves at him, the women he led to his bed deep within the night. But there was no recreating you.

Namjoon hadn’t known peace since the day you left.

If it was possible he was even more restless than before. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had a full night's sleep. It had to be retribution for all the nights he kept you awake with the creeping thoughts of his betrayal. You, the love of his life, who he took for granted.

He ruined the best thing that ever happened to him, for his own selfish desires.

All because he lied.

And now all he wanted was a chance to get you back.

He pulled out his cell phone, trying to reach you again. He couldn’t keep track of all the times he called your phone, only to be met with your voicemail.

When he watched you walk out that door…a part of him hadn’t really recognized it as real. He was too full of himself to see it happening. His ego told him you’d be back, that you wouldn’t—couldn’t—really leave him. You’d cool off for a couple of days, then come back and try to make things work because that’s the type of person that you were.

He knew you were strong. Strong enough to move past his mistakes. He just didn’t know you were strong enough to move past him entirely.

Namjoon runs a hand across his face, dials your number, and prays. He’s not necessarily sure who or what he’s praying to, but he could really use a miracle right now. Because that’s what it would take for you to actually pick up the phone.

“(Y/n) please, please pick up.”

The phone rings once, twice, three times and then—

"We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”

He hangs up, angry.

He doesn’t have the right to be angry, that much he knows. Mercy and grace from the woman he scorned is far too much to ask for, but he needs you, and he’s desperate, so he’s asking anyway.

Namjoon foolishly made the mistake of thinking that you couldn't live without him. But it was he who was the one who couldn’t live without you.

So he’ll keep calling. Even if it only goes to voicemail. He’ll keep leaving message after message after message.

Whatever it takes.

…

♪ I may never understand why. I'm doing the best that I can. And I tried, and I tried to forget this. But I'm much too full of resentment...♪

…

You wake up to the sound of your phone ringing. You didn’t have to check caller ID to know who was on the other side of that line. Annoyed, you sighed and rolled over onto your side. Curling up into the couch, you choose the warmth and sweet bliss of sleep over another argument.

“Aren’t you gonna get that?”

“No.” You answered without so much as opening your eyes.

Behind you, you could hear Jackson moving around, presumably to shut off your phone (you didn’t care enough to look).

The ringing grew louder and louder and soon enough you could feel your phone vibrating against your back. “(Y/n), answer the phone.”

“No.” You repeated, throwing the cover over your head. It’s entirely too early for this. Didn’t he have something to do? Wasn’t he busy? You didn’t understand it. Now that you were separated, he suddenly had all the time in the world to call you?

You could hear Jackson sigh behind you. “I swear if I have to hear your ringtone one more time—I’m going to lose my mind. Just answer the phone!”

“If it bothers you so much, why don’t YOU answer it!”

“M-me! Me?” Jackson sputtered. “Do you want me to die? Do you know what that man would do to me if he found out you were staying with me? He would kill me.”

That much was true. Namjoon would be furious to find out you’d been staying with your male best friend, which is exactly why you went to Jackson’s place when you left him.

Was it petty? Yes. Was it worth it? Hell yes.

If his feelings and pride were hurt than good, that made two of you.

“I mean, I could probably take him. But Namjoon when he’s angry is a totally different person. Actually no, he wouldn’t just kill me. It would be murder in the First degree. I’m not answering.”

“Then put it on silent. I don’t care, I’m not talking to him.”

Suddenly, the warmth of your blanket was ripped away from you, forcing you out of your bubble of comfort. “Did you—did you just snatch my cover off? Jackson!”

“(Y/n),” He said, coming closer and taking your hands in his. “You are my best friend and you know I’m only saying this out of a place of love, but this has to stop. You have to go.”

“You’re kicking me out?”

“Look, it’s not like I don’t want you here, I love having you around you know that. It’s just—you’ve been hiding out on my couch for a couple of months now—”

“—Hiding! I’m not hiding!!!”

“And I refuse to harbour a fugitive anymore.”

“I’m not a fugitive…” you grumbled.

Jackson shot you a cross look.“Namjoon is searching high and low for you and you’re avoiding him here, in my apartment.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ok, AND?”

“And! I really don’t think staying here is doing you any good. You are not dealing with what happened. It’s not healthy. He’s calling for a reason, you need to talk to him. You can’t run away from this…”

You bit down on your lip, contemplating everything he said. He wasn’t really wrong. But you were far too exhausted to deal with Namjoon again.

You couldn’t go through another fight.

You weren’t angry. At least, not in the way you were before. The last of your anger had been exerted in a fit of rage when you returned to your home to pick up some things you left behind. This is what you told yourself. A lot of damage had been done. Broken dishes, shattered glass, photos ripped out from picture frames. Tiny vengeful acts that piled up to one huge mess. After all of it you were only partially satisfied. But that time had come and gone, you didn’t think you had any more fight in you.

You were filled with too much bitterness, too much resentment for any of that.

No matter what, you still couldn’t wrap your brain around it. How could he do this to you? You thought that having him speak the truth and actually admit to what he did would give you peace of mind but all it did was give you more questions than answers. Now just the thought of talking to him made bile rise up in your throat.

“I...I don’t even know what I would say to him.”

Jackson narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have to say anything. He’s the one who fucked up, he should be doing all the talking.” His expression softened. “But...I think you should listen. If this is really over, you need closure.”

“And on that note, you’re gonna pick up the next time that phone rings or I will revoke your couch privileges!” He said, standing up with a smile on his face.

“I hate you for this.” You growled at him.

He smiled back at you, “I love you too.” He kissed your cheek, placing your cellphone in your hand, then left for his bedroom.

You looked down at the piece of metal in you hand and sighed. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t talk to him. And yet...there was still this small part of you that wanted to hear his voice. Determined to ignore that emotion you stood up from the couch, headed straight for the kitchen. Stress eating had become a terribly bad habit of yours, but you couldn’t help it. You were the type of person who ate her feelings (and honestly, food does make everything better).

You were shuffling through last night's leftovers, trying to decide if you should heat up a plate of dukbokki or humor yourself with dessert for breakfast when Jackson’s home phone went off.

You waited a bit, figuring he would pick up eventually, but he didn’t. “Jacksonnnn~”, you whined. Nothing. Whatever, you thought. I’ll just let it go to voicemail.

You turned back to the fridge, taking out a pint of ice cream when the beep of the machine sounded and a voice broke through the apartment's silence.

“Hey (Y/n),” At the sound of your name you immediately stopped everything and froze.

“It’s me, Hobi. I know you’re crashing at Jackson’s right now,” Your jaw dropped. How could he know that? You didn’t tell anyone where you were going.

You could hear him giggling on the phone. “Don’t worry I’m not gonna tell. I know you don’t wanna hear anything that I have to say but I’m still gonna say it anyway.”

“Namjoon’s a mess...We've been through a lot together—I’ve never seen him like this before. He made a mistake. A big mistake, and he knows it. But he loves you more than anything. Just hear him out okay? And not for him, but for you...I know you still love him too. Call me back, yeah? If you want, you can ditch him but don’t ditch us! We all miss you over here…..Take care of yourself.”

By the time the message ended you had teary eyes, only half a pint of ice cream left, and a decision to make. Suddenly, you didn’t have much of an appetite.

And then the phone rings. Your phone.

You let it buzz for a bit. Fully determined to ignore his call once again. But you couldn’t stop looking at the phone. Everyone’s words were circling in your head. What if your friends were right? Were you making a mistake? Would you regret this in the future?

The phone just keeps ringing. You wished it would stop so you didn’t have to think about any of this. You closed your eyes and decided to let fate make the choice for you. If he called back, you would use the last bit of fight in you to answer the phone. But if the phone call ended and he didn’t call back...then you’d really be done and let everything be.

Your ringtone died and you held your breath, waiting.

There was a long pause. Nothing.

Maybe he'll give up. Maybe he’s sick of all this too.

Expect—the phone rings again. Namjoon was still fighting for you.

So you pick up your phone, press the answer button, and put the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

…

♪ Loving you was easy once upon a time. But now my suspicions of you have multiplied. And it's all because you lied. ♪

…

“(Y/n)?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“I......I didn’t think you would actually pick up the phone.”

“Neither did I…”

Silence is a funny thing. It’s nothing, and everything at the same time. Somehow the emptiness is still able to fill a void. Nothing is said aloud, but a thousand words are said in the silent space between you and Namjoon. It’s probably only been a few seconds, but it feels like minutes have gone by, or maybe even hours. In those moments of suspended time you decide you don’t want to listen to anything coming from him. Not even this silence.

It’s almost as if he can hear your thoughts. “Don’t hang up!”

His voice is rushed, desperate…..and soothing. Though you’ll never admit that you miss the sound of his voice. Your intellect tells you not to listen. To block him out. Hang up the phone, and move on with your life, you don’t need anything from him...Maybe that was true. But underneath all the hurt, and the deeply buried anger, there was a part of you that wanted something from him.

What that something was you couldn’t tell, but it was enough to make you linger.

When you didn’t hang up, Namjoon spoke. “I called you. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for months now.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you answer?” His voice was strangled, raw. If you didn’t know any better you would think him to be holding back tears. But you couldn't even remember the last time you saw Namjoon cry.

“Maybe I wasn’t ready to talk. Everything isn’t always about you.”

You can hear Namjoon take in a breath on the other side of the line and you imagine him clenching the phone in a fist, the way he always does when he makes an important phone call. The silence stretches on for a beat too long and you’re two seconds away from hanging up again when he speaks. “I don’t wanna fight. I didn’t call to argue with you.”

His words are soft, yet you still find yourself on edge. “Then what do you want, Namjoon?”

“I want to see you.”

“No.” You said, shaking your head. Not gonna happen. You find yourself pacing against the kitchen floor. “I don’t want to see you.”

“Why not?”

His words are a match, igniting your fury and immediately all of the anger you worked so hard to keep suppressed comes bubbling up to the surface. “Why not? Are you serious?!”

“After everything you’ve done you really think I wanna see your sorry face again?” Tears filled your eyes—but you were frustrated—not sad. You were letting him get to you. Namjoon always made you feel too much. You knew you’d get worked up if you talked to him, it’s why you put it off for so long. You worked too hard to try and keep yourself together for him to tear you apart again.

You want this to end. “I have nothing to say to you. Goodbye, Namjoon--”

You take the phone from your ear, ready to press end call, and you would have, if you didn’t hear his faint voice through the speaker say: “If you feel anything for me at all, don't hang up!”

You can’t do it. Hang up. You won't lie to yourself. But you can’t force out a response either. Instead, you lean against the counter, letting the silence take over as you wait for Namjoon to form his next sentence. “I don’t blame you for wanting nothing to do with me. I didn’t call you to make you upset. I just want to talk about us.”

Us. What a foreign concept. You try picturing it in your mind but no matter what, you still can’t form a full image with the two of you together. You’d been apart for so long, and if you really thought about it, the separation began long before you ever left home.

“There hasn’t been an us for a long time. I tried to talk to you before—look what happened. I’m tired Namjoon. I just—I can’t keep doing the same thing over, and over again.”

“It’s not going to be the same.”

You frown. “How can you say that?”

“Because...I’m not the same. I’ve had a lot of time to think things over. I know I fucked up (Y/n), I’m so sorry.” You scoff at his poor attempt at an apology. “I’m supposed to accept that? You think you can just call me up, apologize over the phone, and everything will be okay?”

“No, of course not.” You hear him exhale sharply. “I know it’s going to take more than that. But it’s not gonna get better if we don’t talk about it. We can’t move forward if we don’t talk.”

“What makes you think I want to move forward?”

“You didn’t hang up…”

You hate that he’s right. You want to pretend like it didn’t mean anything but it did. It would be so much easier to just let it go—to let him go. Beyond all reason, you’re still hanging on to this relationship.

“Can we just talk, please. Just...just come home.”

“That’s not my home. It’s not. So much shit has happened in that place…” Your voice cracked and you couldn’t even finish your sentence.

How could you call that place home? Nothing felt right there. All it held were bad memories. Thinking of it only brought back the nights you spent alone, those times you cried yourself to sleep, and the worst fight you ever had with Namjoon. There was no peace there. You couldn't go back to that broken place. You feel a tear roll down your cheek and you quickly wipe it away. This time you knew the tears you cry come from pain, not frustration.

Dammit, I said I wouldn’t cry for him anymore!

“It is your home. It’s our home. You can come back anytime.”

“I don’t want to!”

“Okay, okay.” he said, his voice gentle. It was the same voice he used to use when he used to talk you down from your bad days. You could tell he was trying to calm you down, and it made you angry that it was kind of working. He suggested an alternative: “You don’t have to come home. Let’s just meet up somewhere.”

You don’t want that either. “Namjoon...Do you have any idea what you put me through?...W-why would I want to see you? Why would I want to hear anything you have to say?”

“I..I don’t have an answer to that. But I know you deserve an explanation.”

That made you quiet. These past months all you did was ask yourself why. Why did he do it? What reason did he have for breaking your heart? And there were so many more questions. You knew you wouldn’t get any peace of mind until they’re answered. It was what you wanted. No, needed.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll do it,” You conceded. “Where should we meet up?” You were not going ‘home’. You don’t feel comfortable there. There was a lull on the other line as Namjoon thought of a location.

“Can we meet at our place?”

. . .

You knew exactly what Namjoon meant when he said “our place”. When the two of you first started dating, it was really hard for you to be together. You work as a stylist at a fashion magazine and you met him and the other boys while working at a photoshoot. Namjoon caught your eye with his intuitive gaze and cool persona. He spoke to everyone on set with a natural esteem you found attractive. You were so surprised when you actually got the chance to speak to him and he turned out to be nothing like he appeared.

Gone was the calm, collected image you saw in front of the camera. Namjoon stuttered when he asked for your name, his cheeks bloomed into a rosy red. His nervousness charmed you, and in that moment, somehow you knew you would end up falling for him hard.

It didn’t take very much for you to give him your number. But finding a spot to go on a date with the famous rapper proved a bit more difficult. You never liked the idea of sneaking around, but you understood why. Namjoon wanted to keep things private to protect you, just in case the news of him dating didn’t go well with the public. For a long time it seemed like there was never going to be a place where Namjoon wasn’t recognized.

All the face masks and hats in the world couldn’t hide his fame. You grew tired of being swarmed in coffee shops and restaurants. You just wanted a place where you could talk, maybe hold his hand, and be at peace. Ironically, you found it when you stopped looking. It ended up not even being in a building, but instead an empty park.

Its lush greenery held quiet beauty. Not very many people knew about it, which made it perfect.

Some of the biggest conversations you ever had as a couple were spoken out here, and today was no different.

You walk up to a table nearby, tugging on the hem of your white summer dress. Fidgeting like this makes you feel stupid. You shouldn’t be nervous. If anyone should be nervous for today’s meeting it would be Namjoon. But ever since you agreed to see him, a bad feeling formed in the pit of your stomach. You didn't want to be nervous. You didn’t feel like you’d make it out of this alive if you were. You had to be steel. Strong, unbreakable. You couldn’t allow yourself to get hurt again.

It did not surprise you to see him there early. He was the type of person who liked to be punctual. Or at least he used to be. You had to remind yourself that he wasn’t the same person you married. You didn’t know anything about him. Hell, after the last few months you were still trying to figure out some things about yourself.

Under the shade of the table's umbrella, Namjoon sits, bouncing his leg up and down. The only other time you’d seen him this nervous was during BTS’s first dome concert. His head faces down, staring at the ground with a look so intense he doesn’t even notice you approach him. The daze is broken once you sit down on the bench.

Namjoon jumps up, eyes wide as he looks at your face. “Y-you came?!”

It takes all your strength not to roll your eyes. Obviously...you thought.

He clears his throat, quickly sitting back down. “Thank you.”

For a while you just look at each other. You have to calm your heart as you take in his appearance. He’s just as handsome as you remembered. But something was different. He changed his hair. His silver locks were now a honeyed blonde. The warm glow of his skin had disappeared. And his once bright eyes now hold dark circles underneath them. He looked like shit, but you were still attracted to him, what logic was that?

The air tenses with silence, the way it always seems to do when you’re around him now. This is a mistake. Neither of you know where to begin. You hate it, but you know this conversation will never get anywhere if you don’t initiate it. “You said you wanted to explain. So explain.”

Namjoon looks tense. “I-i don’t even know where to start.”

That irritates you. You came all this way, and he didn’t even plan what he was going to say?

“What about the beginning?”

Namjoon sighed. He licked his lips, folded his hands, and then he did it. He told you everything. He told you about his anxiety, and the loneliness he felt. The desire to make it all fade away even for just a few moments. How he almost came clean the first time around. And the guilt that festered inside him for keeping the secret for so long.

“I wanted to tell you. But I knew I couldn’t tell you I cheated and keep you I—” Namjoon stopped. He looked away from you, biting down hard on his bottom lip before returning his gaze to yours.

“I was selfish. And I was wrong. There is no excuse for what I did. I’m so sorry, (Y/n).”

Your lips parted in shock. Going into this situation, you expected things to go a whole lot different. You expected him to try and defend himself, or at least blame you for the reason he cheated…but that wasn’t happening. Namjoon wasn’t trying to justify what he did, but instead taking full responsibility for his actions. Those words weren’t coming from the same man you walked away from. That man was filled with too much pride to even acknowledge his own actions—let alone apologize for them.

His actions surprised you. It was almost enough to make you drop your guard. Almost.

“I know you have questions. I’ll answer anything you ask me honestly, I swear.”

You paused. This is the moment you've been waiting for, and now that it was finally here you didn't know what to say. There were so many questions you wanted to ask. But you want to be sure you'll ask the right questions. And that you're prepared to hear the answers. Once you got the information you were dying to hear, you couldn't give it back. You’d have to live with it.

Finally, you spoke. “How’d you do it? How’d you keep this a secret for so long?”

“I kept a second phone hidden.”

The answer came with some relief. You knew you weren’t crazy, that there was some secret method to his deceit. The idea had come once or twice to go through his phone, but you knew Namjoon would never be that messy. “Did anyone else know?”

He nodded once, and a wave of aggravation rippled through you. “Some of the members knew.”

“Are you serious?” You laugh, but the sound felt hollow coming from your lips. “They must think I’m so stupid….”

“You know they don’t think that, they love you.”

You grimaced. Yeah, right. “Not enough to let me know the truth.”

Briefly you wondered which members knew and what kept them from coming to you, but you tried to push those thoughts away. You came here with questions for Namjoon. Nothing else mattered.

“Was it emotional?” You asked. “Did you love her?”

He shook his head vigorously. “No. No, it was just physical. They didn't mean anything to me.”

All the blood in your body went cold. “They?”

Namjoon opens his mouth. Then closed it again. “Shit.” He hoped to leave that part out of this meeting. A part of him knew it wouldn't be fair to you but would the truth really be any better?

“.....There was more than one girl?”

He ran a hand down his face then nodded, avoiding eye contact. “Yes.”

Through gritted teeth you ask, “How many?”

You wait for an answer but this time Namjoon keeps quiet. “You said you'd answer anything.”

“I know—”

“So that was a lie?”

“No.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Then why won't you tell me?”

Namjoon tensed, jaw clenching. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You narrowed your gaze on him. “Well it’s too fucking late for that don’t you think? ‘Honestly’, huh? You’re so full of shit Namjoon. Being honest means telling the whole truth. All of it!”

“How many?” You press. Part of you is afraid of the answer but you still need to know.

You wait, staring him down but Namjoon looked away. He can’t say it looking you in the eye, instead he buries his face in his hands then mutters out the word three.

“Three?” You repeat.

You lean back from him, gripping the edge of the table. It felt like the world was spinning around you. Wow. Three girls. Three different girls.

Sensing your distress Namjoon quickly added. “They're just girls. They don’t matter.”

You shook your head, refusing to accept that for an answer. “Of course they matter. You made a choice to go to them, instead of me. I have to know why. What did they have that I didn’t?”

“Everything.”

Ouch, okay. You close your eyes as the pain from that statement washes all over you. The pain you feel isn’t new, but familiar. Like reopening an old wound. But Namjoon isn’t finished. Before you can even process his words he speaks again. “They were selfish, demanding, and manipulative...the complete opposite of you.”

You feel your brows pull together. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? The fact that all the women you slept with are somehow lesser than me?”

Namjoon looks confused and hurt. “(Y/n), I don't know what you want from me. I can’t change the past, all I can say is I’m sorry.”

For so long all you wanted was for him to apologize. Really apologize. No excuses, no bullshit. But now that you finally heard it, sorry just didn’t feel like enough. Instead his words make you feel empty inside. Sorry, isn’t enough to stay. You want to leave now.

Clearing your throat, you got ready to go. “I don’t know what to say to that and I don’t have anymore question so—”

“Can I ask you a question?”

You huffed out a sigh. “Fine.”

“Why did you leave? You said you'd never leave me.”

You feel yourself flush with frustration. “And you said you'd never cheat on me. Promises mean nothing. Words, mean nothing. The only thing that matters is how you act.”

“Besides,” You said, looking away from him to the beautiful summer landscape. “You didn't try to stop me. It's like you didn't even care.”

“Of course I cared. I made a mistake—”

Standing up, you slam your hands down on the table. “It was not. A mistake! Oh my god! How can you still not get it? Cheating is a choice! You made a choice! You think I didn’t get lonely all those nights I spent by myself? You think you’re the only man who’s ever approached me???”

“Of course not—”

“No. Of course not! Because I’m a catch, Namjoon.” Not caring how loud you get, you raise your voice. “I am kind, I am smart, I am ambitious, I am beautiful. You had to be out of your fucking mind to cheat on me!” You said, pressing your index finger against your temple.

You’re crying now, hot tears streaming down your face.“Why can’t you see that? Everyone else can.”

It’s the only question that goes unanswered. Namjoon stares at you, eyes glistening, but he doesn’t say a word.

“I can’t do this,” You wiped at your wet face frantically, standing up to leave.

(Y/n), please.” Namjoon moved to stop you but you ripped out of his grasp.

“I have to go.” You say reaching for your bag, ready to walk away from him, from your marriage, and all the hurt he just laid at your feet.

Love Drought

♪ Nine times out of ten, I'm in my feelings. But ten times out of nine, I'm only human. Tell me, what did I do wrong? Feel like that question has been posed. I'm movin' on.

. . .

You haven't seen Namjoon but that doesn’t stop you from thinking about him.

You think about him almost every single day. What was he doing? How was he moving on without you? Was he moving on at all, or was he just sitting around somewhere...waiting for you to come back?

All these questions only fueled your anxiety and your determination to stay as far away as possible from Namjoon. If you didn’t see him, if you went away...Then those questions would go away too, right? You were going for the whole ‘out of sight out of mind thing’. But it wasn’t working. Because even though you said you were done—Namjoon still had pieces of you. Literally. Your things still remained untouched at the house.

You meant it when you said you didn’t want to go back home. But you needed to come get your belongings. It takes all of your strength to make the drive over without stopping to throw up, or cry. Stepping inside the place where your marriage died was the last thing you wanted to do on your day off. You put off the inevitable for months but it’s time now, you’re moving on, and you’re moving out.

So why was it so hard for you to move past the front door?

You stood there, frozen at the threshold. Heart aching at the thought of what you’re about to do. Fuck (Y/n), you cursed at yourself.You’re a grown ass woman, you can do this. Get in there. It was dead quiet in the house, as you hoped. You’re too much of a coward to call Namjoon and let him know you’re coming to take the last of your things. Couldn’t even text him. No message you typed out felt right. Anything you had to say you already told him. At this point, you both know your marriage is at its end. All you can do is pray that he won’t be there the same time you are. It’s why you chose to come in the evening. Namjoon wouldn’t be home until very late at night because of his schedule. It would give you enough time to get most of your things packed up.

Bawling your hands into fists you gripped your door key tightly, slid it in the keyhole, and unlocked the door. You take two steps inside, close the door behind you, and it feels as though you’ve stepped through time. It’s like nothing’s changed. You don’t quite know what you were expecting. You didn’t have any expectations coming over, but now looking at the space before you, you decided this isn’t it.

The house isn’t spotless, but it’s tidy, neat. In stark contrast from the last time you were here, and the fit you threw. Somehow you expected the house to look exactly in that state: broken. But nothing’s really changed. Soon your feet take on movement of their own, walking you towards the bedroom. Being back in that room is strange. It's almost as if you never left him at all. The sunset pools through the window, drowning the bed in light that looks like honey. The space has the essence of your home. The only difference you feel now is the emptiness. You spent many nights home without Namjoon but it never felt like this.

This time you’re really all by yourself. You don’t live in the same house anymore, but you're not completely alone living off your bestfriends couch. It’s been years since you’ve remembered what it feels like to be without a partner. You wondered...This emptiness...Is this what it would feel like to live without Namjoon?

You swallow down a sob, trying not to drown in your loneliness and turn and walk into the closet. Remember why you're here. Get your things, you just have to make it through these next few minutes. You reminded yourself that the hard part, the confrontation (and the leaving) was already over. All you have to do now is pack.

Strange enough your heart still aches, though not in the way it did before. This is not the ache of betrayal. You truly believed that pain would never subside but it did. Not by time but by choice. You had to choose to let go of the anger and the hurt, choose to free yourself from resentment. No. This ache was something else entirely. But you couldn’t put a name to it.

You step inside your closet, eyes studying your hung up clothes and the suitcases hidden underneath them. Not wanting to spend any more time than needed here, you got on your knees and started pulling out suitcases, folding up clothes, and putting them away. It all went much quicker than you’d expected (you got most of your clothes out during the beginning of your separation). You were picking off hangers at the end of the closet when you came across a garment bag. The garment bag.

Right away you knew you shouldn’t. Only a masochist would unzip the garment bag to their wedding dress when they’re currently living apart from their husband. And yet, you still did it. Tentatively your fingers reached out to grab hold of the bag. You pulled it into your lap and slowly undid the zipper. Then you saw your wedding dress, and you melted. As your eyes traced over the lace detail the memories of that day flickered through your mind.

It wasn’t at all what you expected. When you were younger, you always dreamed of a big wedding, everything you've ever heard about in fairytales. You wanted it to happen early in the morning, in a beautiful church with stained glass windows, surrounded by all your friends and family. You expected there would be flowers everywhere, and something else, something special. The romantic in you hoped for doves or maybe butterflies. And your dress? Only the most regal ball gown would do as you walked down the aisle to the man of your dreams.

Of course, fantasies rarely become reality. The issue of privacy is important when marrying a celebrity. At the time, just getting married seemed impossible, let alone doing it big. With the group's growing fame and Namjoon’s busy schedule, how could you find the time to get married? Or find a venue where fans or media couldn’t find you? You’d have to plan every second, every detail. Nothing could be left up to chance. Both of you were so in love but also, so very stressed with the situation before you until Namjoon made a second proposal.

“Why don’t we just elope?” he asked.

It was late at night. You lay in the comfort of his arms, head resting on his chest and mere seconds away from blissful sleep, so it took you a full minute to process that sentence. You lifted your head to look into his eyes. “What?”

Namjoon smiled down at you, thumb rubbing slow circles against your back. “Let’s just do it. Get married, I mean. Who says we have to wait or plan? I love you. I wanna marry you now.”

You sat up in bed, propped yourself up on your arm, and searched his face. “Are you serious?”

You watched amused as he narrowed his sharp eyes at you in a mock glare. “Why would I joke about this? Of course I’m serious! Let’s do it.”

You looked at him hard for a minute, but when Namjoon didn’t flinch you knew he was for real. Then of course the panic kicked in. “Baby, what? Let’s do it? It’s not like we can just walk into a church and say ‘I do’ !”

“Technically, we can.”

You shook your head, “No. What about all the plans we’ve made? I already booked the venue, and our caterer—”

Namjoon rolled over onto his side, facing you. “So we’ll cancel. The date’s still months away, that's more than enough time to give notice that we’ve changed our minds.”

You laughed,, but your shaky breath came out like a scoff. “Do you know how hard it was for me to get those reservations?! That cathedral is wedding heaven! It is stained glass perfection. The wait time is usually up to a year. A YEAR. And our cake, it’s being made by Giovanni Bianchi—world renowned pastry chef—Giovanni Bianchi. It’s a seven-tiered baked dream. And you want me to cancel?”

To your disbelief Namjoon simply shrugged. “Do we really need all that?”

He reached out, taking your hands in his. He looked down, stroking them with his thumbs in an effort to soothe you. “Grand cathedral or not, as long as we’re together, I’m already in heaven. Our wedding will be perfect no matter where we are because we have each other. And the cake? Well, why would I need a dream cake, when I can have my dream girl?” He said, winking at you.

Your heart swelled at sweet words. As much as you wanted to roll your eyes you couldn’t help but smile. God, he was so cheesy. But isn’t that why you loved him? Still...you felt anxious. He might have melted your heart, but you weren’t fully convinced.

“Yeah okay, very smooth. What about our families? They’ve been looking forward to this so much. Our mothers will murder us!” You made a face, suddenly remembering your wedding party. “Oh the boys…..Jin will be so disappointed if he doesn’t get to be your best man” (you distinctly recalled him rejoicing at the news knowing he’d be “the most handsome” best man ever).

Namjoon brought your fingers to his lips and kissed the tips in between explanations. “It’s not about them”. Kiss. “Jin will get over it”. Kiss. “Our families will forgive us”. Kiss. “We’re not getting married for anyone else but us, we can do it however we want.”

You nodded your head in agreement, though you were still unsure. You knew all these things. Of course your marriage would be just for the two of you. You had no interest in simply performing the act for others approval. You loved Namjoon, you loved your relationship together, and you wanted to do what felt right for the both of you. Still, you couldn’t help but worry about the public’s opinion.

“What about your fans?” you asked. “What if pictures get out?” The whole point of all this planning was for privacy. The world knew BTS was dating, many fans suspected they had secret girlfriends, but a wife? How would they react to that? You didn’t want to hurt anyone, least of all Namjoon and his image. You know how hard he and the rest of Bangtan worked to be respected in the music industry. What would happen if the world found out their leader was dating a nobody like you?

Namjoon looked you straight in the eyes, and spoke in a calm voice. “I don’t care. I’m not ashamed of loving you. Let the whole world see that I’m marrying the kindest, loveliest, soul I’ve ever known. I don’t care what they think, or what they say. I just want you. All I want is to be your husband, and for you to be my wife. Nothing else matters.”

You felt another wave of love pass over your heart. His sincerity stunned you. You glanced at him with glistening eyes. “Namjoon…Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

He grinned at you, letting go of your hand to reach up and cup your cheek. “Are you done yet?” He teased. “Despite all your protests, I haven’t heard you say no…?”

You took a second to think through your conversation. Namjoon was right. You never said no, because as crazy as it was, you agreed with your fiancé wholeheartedly. You wanted this, you wanted him just as much as he wanted you, and you wanted to get married as quickly as possible. With a new resolve you shifted in the bed straddling him, then wrapped your arms around his neck. “Okay,” you said.

Namjoon raised both eyebrows up. “Okay!? Just like that? Anything else I need to assure you of? We have our marriage license. I have a tux. You already have your dress. I know you’re concerned but we have everything we need.”

You nodded. This time you were sure. “Let’s do it.”

Namjoon hesitated, then his face broke into a smile that was so bright it gave life to one of your own. In that moment you realized what you thought to be nerves earlier was really just excitement. You brought your hand to his shoulders, squeezing tight. “We’re getting married,” you whispered, voice full of awe.

“We’re getting married!” Namjoon echoed.

Before you knew it, you were walking down the aisle. You let him plan it all. You got married at night, in a small church, without stained glass windows. There was no big guest list, but neither of you could stand the thought of going through the ceremony completely by yourselves, so you allowed for your immediate family to be there (that included Yoongi, Hoseok, Jin, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jeongguk). Flowers did not adorn every pew, but the space was illuminated by soft and warm candlelight. No butterflies or doves. It wasn’t like what you imagined in your head. Life rarely coincides with those kinds of plans. But Namjoon was right. Because you had each other, it was perfect.

In the end, the only part of your wedding that lived up to the fairytale was your dress. It was everything you wanted in a gown. All white with a sweetheart neckline, crystal embroidery and layers upon layers of tulle. The dress felt a bit heavy, but you can still remember the look on his face when he lifted your veil. In one glance, he made all that weight disappear. You felt lighter than air. “You look like an angel.” He whispered, voice sweet and low, so only you could hear. In that moment all you could feel was love.

So how did you end up here? Clutching your wedding dress on the closet floor, desperately wiping away tears. God, what a mess you are. You pushed out a breath and started shoving the white, fluffy fabric back into the garment dress. It was a mistake taking this out. You couldn’t get it back in again. Your fingers slip as you try to grip the zipper, and you can’t tell if it’s because of your sweaty palms or your wet tears, but it won’t budge. Why won’t it zip? You pull up hard, snagging the dress in its teeth.

Shit. Frustration flushes through you as you snatch the zipper back down only to hear the distinct sound of fabric tearing in the process.

You shut your eyes tight, shoulders slumping with defeat. When you opened your eyes again all you could see was the rip in the dress, threads straining and unraveling all at once. It looked as torn up as you feel inside. Part of you is falling apart at the idea of leaving Namjoon, pressured to leave all of this pain behind and let go of the relationship. Call it mind over matter. It didn’t make sense to stay with a man you had broken your heart and your trust. All logic told you to divorce him and never look back. You know this. And yet? There is a part of you aching to repair what’s been broken, pull out the sorrow from this home, and heal all the hurt.

You were so busy wrapped in your thoughts that you hadn’t heard the door unlock, or footsteps tread into the bedroom. From the corner of your eye you saw a glimpse of blond hair, wide brown shoulders. It was Namjoon. You couldn’t help the startled gasp that fell from your lips.

“(Y/n)”, he breathed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Namjoon kept his distance. He didn’t look at you and didn’t cross the threshold of the closet door, generously leaving space between you. Instead, his eyes were glued to the floor. “I saw your car out front, but I didn’t think it’d actually be you here.” He reached up a hand, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I don’t mean to be rude. I’m just...confused.” Namjoon glanced up at you from underneath his eyelashes then slowly, his smokey eyes rose to meet yours. “Why are you here?”

“. . .” You faltered. Once Namjoon laid his eyes on you, you softened, even after all this time he had that effect on you. You were still consumed in thoughts about your marriage...feeling that again, you didn’t know what to think. You almost preferred it when you felt anger or pain at the sight of him. Instead you felt something else. You looked down at your lap, fingering the dress. Was it longing? You started again, making eye contact. “I came back to get the rest of my things.”

A look passed across Namjoon’s face but before you could identify it, it was gone. Namjoon nodded, looking away from your face. His gaze shifted to your hands. “Is...is that—”

“—My wedding dress? Yes.” You tried to think of an excuse, some reason for you having it out but nothing came to mind. You shrugged, settling for the truth. “I just wanted to look at it I guess.” Both of you ignored your tear stained face.

Namjoon bit his lip, the silence stretching between you until he said, “I’ll leave you to it,” and abruptly walked away. Finally alone you breathed out a sigh.

You felt a tinge of disappointment. And you were angry with yourself for it. You don’t know what you were hoping for, or what you wanted to get out of that conversation. What’d you expect? Did you really think after everything that he’d lower himself one last time and beg for you to come back? Again? The man you married you would have, but the man who cheated on you? No, he had too much pride. This wasn’t a romance movie where the couple fights and breaks up but somehow everything magically fixes itself and they get back together. It was really over.

The finality of it all stunned you. You sat there, numbing yourself to the pain for a minute. Then you striantened out your wedding dress, and zipped up the garment bag. This time it went up without a hitch. You were just getting up off your knees when Namjoon whipped back into the room, surprising you.

“I know you could care less about anything I have to say right now,” he began, raising a cautious hand. “You probably hate me, and I understand that. I hate myself for what I’ve done to you.” He looked up in thought then pressed his hands into his eyes. When his hands fell away you braced yourself for what came next. “I’m asking you for a second chance. I’m asking you for a second chance because I love you more than anything. You are the love of my life, and I’m sorry I forgot that. I know you don’t owe me anything, least of all your forgiveness.”

He stopped, voice thickening as he gulped down tears. “But I’m asking for it.”

“I couldn’t live with myself knowing I didn’t do everything to get you back.”

Tears filled your eyes. “Are you saying that, because you love me? Or are you saying that because you want me back?”

His gaze never wavered. “Both. I want you back, because I love you. Knowing you and loving you has been the biggest blessing in my life. I don’t regret it. I'd do it all over again, just to have you in my life. Even if it meant losing you. ”

All at once it hit you. That feeling, the one you struggled to identify when you held your wedding dress in your arms. It wasn’t longing. It was love. You were still in love with Namjoon.

And so you did the unthinkable. You kissed him.

Sandcastles

♪ We built sandcastles that washed away. I made you cry when I walked away, oh. And although I promised that I couldn't stay, baby. Every promise doesn't work out that way.

. . .

It only takes seconds for you to cross the space between and press your lips to his. For a moment, Namjoon doesn’t move—doesn’t even breathe. Then his arms wrapped around you, brought you flush against him and you melted in his embrace as he kissed you, his lips softer than ever. Deep down, you know you shouldn’t. It would be too painful to become wrapped up in Namjon again only to tear yourself away from him. But your body has a will of its own. When his tongue swept across your bottom lip, you parted for him like the red sea and every emotion you’d ever felt for him came flooding back.

Every kiss you’ve ever had, every whisper of “I love you,” all of it ignited in your mind the second Namjoon kissed you back in a moment so intense you felt your body tremble at his touch. His lips moved gently over yours while his hands came up to cup your cheeks, and before you know it, you find yourself in the middle of the most sensual kiss you’ve had in your life. Namjoon kissed you like he was hungry, tongue rolling into your mouth. You couldn’t help but moan, arching into his embrace.

It was shameful how your body responded back to him. You could feel your heart rate increase, the heat rushing to your cheeks. You couldn’t remember the last time you wanted him like this. Your thoughts traveled back to the words that sparked your desire: “I want you back, because I love you. Knowing you and loving you has been the biggest blessing in my life. I don’t regret it. I'd do it all over again, even if it meant losing you.”

All this time you’d been fighting against your love for Namjoon, convinced any feelings he had for you were long gone. But everything he said proved otherwise.

It was confusing to you. You spent so much time thinking that Namjoon didn’t want you anymore, you’d even come to accept it but now? You didn’t know what to think. Your mind was screaming for you to pull away, stop before it went any further. That everything you were doing right now was wrong. Except, it didn’t feel wrong. It almost felt...good. Right.

The truth is you feel exactly the same. Despite everything you’d been through, you still loved Namjoon. He was the love of your life and you wished with everything in you that you could turn back the clock and start over. If what he said was true—if there was even a possibility of Namjoon still loving you, you needed to feel that.

Namjoon’s touch made you desperate. You found your hands tracing the planes of his body, running down his muscular arms before coming back up as you linked your arms around his neck. He kissed you deeper, groaning low in his throat, and the sound was enough to drive you wild. Even this close, you couldn’t get enough of him. All you could feel was the compulsive need for more. More of his touch. More of his kisses. More, more, more.

You could feel Namjoon’s body backing you up to the bed. Your knees hit the mattress and you allowed yourself to fall back against the soft sheets. But Namjoon didn’t fall with you. You opened your eyes, instantly giving way to panic. His pause alarmed you. Your anxiety reared its ugly head, speaking cruelty into your mind. How could you be so foolish? What were you thinking, kissing Namjoon? He didn’t actually want you. He was leading you on, playing with your feelings. That’s why he stopped.

You pulled yourself up, leaning your weight back on your elbows to look into his eyes. You expected to see cold rejection on his handsome face, but what you saw in his gaze wasn’t at all what you imagined. Instead, when you looked into his eyes, all you could see was raw, unfiltered desire. And strangely enough, uncertainty.

Namjoon had a million thoughts racing through his mind, all of them questions.

How did he end up here, with you spread across his bed when only minutes before you seemed worlds apart? The situation didn’t feel real, more like a fantasy, like he dreamed you up. But if this dream was real—if this dream was really coming true—should he let it?

Of course he wanted you. If you kissed him like this a couple of months ago, Namjoon wouldn’t hesitate to take you; he’d have his way with you until you screamed his name. But tonight, the last thing Namjoon wanted. He’d spent months craving your touch; the feel of your lips against his, how the heat of your body felt flush against his. He caused you enough pain acting on his lust. He didn’t want to hurt you further by taking advantage of the situation.

Both of you got caught in an emotional whirlwind but this kiss was a mistake, wasn’t it? He looked down at you, waiting for you to push him away but you didn’t make a move. Instead, you stared at him, desire burning in your eyes. God, that look alone was enough to arouse him. Still, he didn’t make any move to kiss you.

You took a moment to look at Namjoon, really look at him. Trying to uncover the emotion swirling behind his dark eyes. The longer you stared, the more you felt like your heart was going to burst from your chest. You could see his uncertainty but the feeling wasn’t mutual.

Was it insane to sleep with your soon to be ex-husband? Yes. Did it make you want it any less?

Not even in the slightest.

I must be losing my mind. You couldn’t explain it yourself, but kissing Namjoon opened up something in you. Feelings you didn’t know you still had swept all over you. Heat washed over your body. You could feel your skin flush, passion stirring in your blood.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice taut with apprehension.

Your body was practically screaming yes. But Namjoon’s hesitation made you pause.

Reading the confusion in your eyes, he quickly backtracked. “I’m not saying I don’t want to—believe me I do—I just don’t want you to do something tonight that you’ll regret in the morning.”

Your mind wasn’t there. That moment seemed so far off from the ever-present now and the rapid beating of your heart and the warmth of Namjoon’s body. You knew you had to make a choice. Yes or no. There was a small voice in the back of your head cautioning you against this. But tonight you were following your heart. Consequences be damned.

You looked up at him and nodded. “I want this.”

Namjoon leaned forward to kiss you, and you shivered at the feel of his lips against yours. This time, there was no hesitation. You couldn’t remember the last time Namjoon kissed you like this. Slowly, tenderly, like this kiss mattered. Like you mattered. Any inhibition you had melted away as you leaned into his touch. You felt yourself lower back down onto the bed. Namjoon’s hands passed over your body, slimming down your waist, before coming to rest on your thighs. You let them linger there, savoring the feeling of his hands on your body.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. You were so into the kiss, the feel of him you didn’t notice his hands pry off your clothes until you were left in only your underwear.

He stopped then, pulled away from your lips to look at you. Then the only thing you could feel on your body were his eyes drinking you in. The eye contact alone had you squeezing your thighs together. You watched the heat build in his dark gaze until his eyes lingered just a little too long, until your skin tingled all over from the intensity.

Then he was all over you, leaving open-mouthed kisses down your throat. Hands cupping your breasts. The feel of him against your thigh. It was an assault to your senses, but instead of overwhelming you, it only made you crave him even more. You arched your back as Namjoon kissed your collarbone, slowly making his way down the valley of your breasts. You moaned at the sensation of his tongue moving down your body, closer and closer to where you needed him most.

“Namjoon,” You breathed, body humming with pleasure. He looked up from between your thighs, dark eyes connecting with yours for a split second. You watched as he hooked his fingers into your underwear and dragged them down your legs. Then he gave his complete attention to your body, licking a long strip straight down your center that had you moaning his name again.

Namjoon gripped your thighs firmly in his hands, pulling you closer towards him. He wanted you to know that this meant more to him than just sex, that he loved you, and that he was more than willing to show you just how much. He takes his time tasting you. Each lick languid and loving. He didn’t want to tease you, all he wanted to do was to please you. To touch you and erase the pain he caused--even if only for a second. Namjoon swirled his tongue across your clit. Once, twice, a third time, drawing sweet moans and gasps from your lips.

You couldn’t keep yourself quiet. It’d been so long since anyone touched you. Throughout everything, you still remained faithful to Namjoon. And even if you’d been with another, no one could ever make you feel like this. Have your toes curling, back arching. It was almost embarrassing how easily you melted under his touch. Some part of you still wondered how you could give in so easy. Shouldn’t you be feeling some resistance? All you felt was longing.

You found yourself rocking your hips against him, and crying out as his tongue delved deeper.

You wanted to bring your hands up to your face to muffle the sounds but before you could, Namjoon stopped you.

“Don’t,” he said. He took hold of your hands and threading his fingers through yours. All the while his tongue was still swirling against you, making lewd sounds that had you feeling hot.

You could feel your body heating up, the rise and fall of your chest coming faster and faster. When you felt him slide tongue inside you, pressing up against your sweet spot—it was enough to push you over the edge. You came, squeezing Namjoon’s hands tight.

Namjoon lapped up your juices, enjoying the taste of your slick on his tongue. Even then he didn’t stop, coaxing a second orgasm out of you with soft licks against your center.

“Joon,” you whimpered, body humming with oversensitivity. “Too much.”

Only then did he pull away, moving to place a tender kiss on the inside of your thigh. He sat up, and you rose on your elbows ready and willing to return the favor, but Namjoon gently pushed you back down on the bed, shaking his head.

“I just wanna be inside you right now,” he rasped.

God, you wanted that too. They way Namjoon ate you out had your body begging for more. You weren't going to argue with him.

Namjoon sat up and placed a hand around your neck, guiding you back to his lips. It started out slow. Soft, sweet kisses against your lips. It wasn’t until he slipped his tongue inside your mouth that he found himself suddenly desperate for you. Even more surprising was your reaction to him. You kissed him back with just as much fever, completely captivated.

The kiss seemed to go on forever. When you finally pulled away, you looked at each other, panting, the air thickening between you two. Namjoon’s dark eyes stared down at you with an intensity that pierced your soul. You knew he felt it too. This energy...There was still love between you. But you’d already made your decision. You wanted this moment, this passion but you couldn’t trust him with your heart and be sure he wouldn’t break it. I can’t fall for him again. I can’t. You wanted him badly but wanting him, and trusting him were two different things.

“Namjoon,” you started. Then stopped, trying to find the right words to explain. “This isn’t—I can’t—”

“—Stay? I know.” Namjoon knew what he was getting into the second you kissed him. He knew this was goodbye, and that it would hurt like hell come morning. He didn’t care. If only he could change the past, he’d take it all back.

But he couldn’t. The damage was already done. This was the last time he’d ever hold you in his arms again. If he could have you, even for this short time, he’d take what he could get. He wasn’t going to fuck it up trying to make this into something it wasn’t. He loved you too much to be selfish at this moment. If this were the last time, he would make it well worth your while.

“I just need tonight.”

Namjoon pulled you tighter against him, molding you against his body. Before making any sudden movement, he pulled back a little to look in your eyes, to make sure this was still what you wanted.

You cupped his cheek and kissed his lips, reassuring him. Then he aligned his cock against your entrance and pushed inside you with one smooth move. You tensed, freezing in his arms. The feeling of your walls clenched around him made staying still absolute torture. But Namjoon wouldn’t dare move.

You close your eyes and breathe out a shaky breath, familiarizing yourself with the burn of the stretch. He’s so thick it takes a minute for your body to adjust to the size. Though the sensation of Namjoon nuzzling into your neck helps turn the pain into pleasure. You hooked your leg around his waist nudging him forward.

The small act made both of you moan in unison. “Namjoon...please,” you breathed.

He moved, starting out with a pace that had your insides feeling molten. His hands gripped at your hips as he pulled out almost all the way, then slowly slid himself deep inside you. You were so wet, so tight he couldn’t help but groan. The feel of you taking all of him, giving him this pleasure and the look in your eyes...Namjoon was sure he’d never love another the same way.

This wasn’t just sex. Namjoon knew the difference now. What it really meant to be intimate with a partner. To share his body with someone not for a distraction or stroke his ego but for love. To draw closer with one another. This was it for him. You, it was always you. There would never be another. He started to rock into you, deep and slow, desperate to make you feel that.

You closed your eyes, losing yourself to the sensation. Needing more, you raised your hips to meet his thrusts and Namjoon took the hint, snapping his hips to meet yours faster. You cried out as he filled you again and again and again. Right now, you don't have to worry about future decisions. You didn’t have to think about all the conflicting feelings you had for this man.

Not that you could think about that anyways. Your senses were all wrapped up in how good Namjoon was making you feel. His pace was brutal just how you liked it, but his touch was nothing but kind. His hands trailed up to the small of your back keeping you close. Namjoon cupped your face as he kissed you; he only pulled away to rest his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes. You’d slept with Namjoon before, but something about this time was different. If you didn’t know any better—you’d think he was making love to you. He was so strong, yet so loving. You wished he could be this way with you always.

You wanted to stay here, savor this moment. But Namjoon was grinding his hips against yours in a way that had you breathless. You were so close. “Namjoon, I—”

“Come for me,” he said.

Growling, he thrust harder against you and reached down between your bodies to rub your clit, driving you towards your orgasm. Your pleasure built inside you, sweeping over your body like a wave until it crashed and washed over you, sending tremors down your body.

Feeling you come apart in his arms, Namjoon slowed his thrusts. You clenched around him till pleasure flooded his senses and he came too, burying his face in your neck and moaning out your name.

The only sound heard throughout the room was panting as the two of you came down from your highs. Namjoon brushed your hair away from your face and ran his thumb across your cheek.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice full of concern. He rolled off you and onto his side so as not to crush you but remained close, his skin flush against yours.

“Mhmm…” you hummed. You stared at the ceiling as your heart rate slowed back down. You were expecting to feel something. Regret...maybe relief?

You don’t know what you were hoping for. Maybe subconsciously you thought sleeping with Namjoon would help you come to some kind of resolution. A grand epiphany that would tell you what to do with your situation. But really you didn’t feel any different than you did before.

“What are you thinking about?”

You shake your head as if to shake all those thoughts out of your head. “Nothing.”

Namjoon didn’t press you, but the silent tension in the air gave you the impression that he wanted to ask for more.

You’ve never felt so divided. The ego in you wanted to walk away from it all. Say goodbye and cut your losses, no matter the cost. You made peace with leaving because you were so sure that Namjoon didn’t want you. You knew you couldn’t be with a man who had no love for you. But now, knowing that there was still love here. That he still cared, that you still cared. It changed things. You wanted it to work. But you weren’t sure if you could love him the same; there was always the issue of trust. How could you ever trust him again?

“I’m sorry,” said Namjoon. “I thought this was what you wanted.”

You turned to face him then, lying on your side. “It was what it wanted and now…” You trailed off, lost to your thoughts again. You had to think about it. Dig deep and really question what it was you were searching for.

“Now what? What do you need?” His expression was torn but honest.

So you asked for what you really wanted out of him. You asked for the truth.

“I need you to tell me everything.”

. . .

And he does. That night, as you bathe together, he finally tells you the truth. The whole truth.

When the sweat on your skin dried and became sticky, Namjoon ran a bath. You both got inside the clawfoot tub and sat on opposite sides, bodies intermingling as you faced each other. It was thick with quiet as the bath filled up with heated water.

At first, Namjoon hesitated. You could tell he wanted to spare your feelings. So he gave you the truths in little bits. Pieces of information you could swallow, like the names of his past lovers, and when each act happened. Then slowly, bigger chunks that had you holding your breath as you processed the facts of his betrayal. He told you about it all. About the weakness, the desperation, and the loneliness he felt on tour. The need to be touched and seen–really seen–by someone. Even if that someone wasn’t you. How one bad decision turned into two, turned into three. And the guilt. The guilt that accompanied the deception that rose and rose like high flames, eating him up inside.

By the time Namjoon’s done speaking, the water’s gone lukewarm, and your fingers were pruned, yet neither of you gets out of the bath. You let Namjoon bring you to close, till your back's up against his chest. He lathers his hands, and you let his calloused palms wash the pain away. Till the only thing you feel is his light touch. You repeat this action to him, stroking his skin with absolute ease. Then, and only then do you step out of the water. Namjoon drapes a fluffy white towel over your shoulder and wraps it around you.

He looks you in the eyes, and tells you that you're the only woman he’s ever loved. The only woman he would ever love. And you believe him.

. . .

That night, you lay down beside him exhausted. Not the kind of exhaustion that comes from lack of sleep or a long day at work. Not the weariness that leads to nights of deep slumber–no–this is the weariness that puts stress on your heart. The kind that leaves you feeling drained. Empty. Beside you, Namjoon sleeps, but you’re wide awake.

Every nerve in your body is begging for rest. But it’s your heart keeping you up tonight.

Heart over mind, mind over matter. You're split in both directions. Wanting to stay, and wanting to go. You told yourself that you were leaving. Walking away from it all.

But something felt wrong.

Everything was already moving in one way, but your heart was starting to face another. You still hadn’t made up your mind.

You lay in bed with your eyes closed and remembered the first time you left. Before you knew the truth, before you knew anything really, except for the fact that you didn’t want to live in a lie. You packed your bag and drove to Jackson’s, but you couldn’t make it through the night without breaking down and calling your mom. You spilled your heart to her, and she heard you, even through all the tears. You called to get everything off your chest, but you were also searching for answers. You were desperate for her to give you some kind of sign of what you were supposed to do or an out, but she didn’t.

“Do you remember when you were little, and you used to make sandcastles at the beach?” she asked. “You used to love playing in the sand. Barely even went in the water. You spent all day just creating something, building your own world.”

It caught you off guard. You were so shocked that for the first time in hours you stopped crying.

The memory was hazy in your mind, but you could still picture those summer days filled with warm golden sun, and the salty sea air.

“Some days as the sun set, the tide would come in and wash away everything you worked on. And you’d cry. Cry your little heart out. There wasn’t anything I wanted more than to pick you up, and hold you in my arms, comfort you. But you were at that age where you needed to start learning how to comfort yourself. So I let you cry. And after you’d got out all your tears, sometimes you’d start over. Dig your hands into the sand and start building all over again. Make something new. And sometimes you’d give up, walk away and come sit by me.”

“Yeah mom I remember...but, what does that have to do with anything?”

“You built your marriage with Namjoon on a foundation of love, faith, and trust. That’s your sandcastle. And now that trust has been washed away you don’t know what to do, and you're crying out for me. Baby, I love you, but you’re gonna have to make this decision for yourself. I can’t make it for you. Whatever you decide, I will be right behind you, supporting you. If you want to stay and find a way to be together I will be here. If you want to divorce him I’ll be here for that, too. But you have to decide.”

You let her words sink in. You knew she was right. But you were so frustrated, so overwhelmed you burst into tears again. “How am I supposed to decide? It’s so hard to know what choice is right.”

“I don’t–I don’t want to make a mistake…” You said through sobs.

“(Y/n), the only thing worse than staying or going, is you holding your breath and being indecisive. You have to make a choice. Decide.”

You couldn't think of how to act on your mother’s advice back then, but in the present, you understood. You squinted in the dark and looked at the time. The clock on your nightstand reads 5:22 AM in bold red letters. You hadn’t even realized you’d been up all night with your thoughts.

You looked over at the man causing you this great affliction. Pale moonlight streamed through the window illuminated his heart-shaped face. You once thought of him to be a monster, but he wasn’t. He was just human. And for once, you finally sorted your feelings about him. You weren’t in limbo anymore.

You knew your decision:

Leave him | Choose him

[charliedawn]

Hi! I have a request! (I won't be mad if you choose not to write it, you do you)

Since the slashers can't leave the facility, how would they take you on a date? I feel like Freddy would take you on a date in your dreams, etc. Please include Penny! He's my favorite!!! Love your work, and hope you have a blessed day! ❤️

Penny would make a whole world appear just for you. He is not as powerful within the hospital as he’d normally be, but he could still make a pretty good illusion for you.

He’d probably make you see what you want and make sure you have as much fun as possible. He’d dig into your head for all of your most personal desires.

He’d also take as many opportunities to know you better and satisfy his curiosity as to why you’d ever want him too.

Penny *tilts his head curiously at you* : "Humans are so odd. Your hearts beat so loudly when you are afraid…But, yours has a different sound to it."

You *surprised* : "Really ? How does it sound ?"

Him *presses his ear against your chest to hear it closer and closes his eyes* : "…Different." *giggles* "Good different."

Arts and crafts. Jason love carving wood and making bird houses. He brought his passions with him when he first entered St Louis. He’d be excited to show you his masterpieces and show you how to do it.

You’d be sitting side by side while using your hands to try multiple different shapes, but would be careful as to not let you get hurt with the knife when you’d try to carve things.

Jason *smiles proudly while showing you his last wooden piece of work*

Jason isn’t comfortable sharing anything about himself so…It’d be a huge honour. He’d also show you his collection of frogs and let you pet them if you want.

He’d also hold your hand and show you his face if you’d want.

Jack is a pretty standard guy when it comes to dating. He was kind of the popular kid and did date a lot in his younger years.

He’d normally go for the classic cinema and restaurant. But, as he is trapped in the hospital…He’d do with what he’s got.

Netflix and chill.

He’d ask the other slashers not disturb the both of you as you take over the TV room and eat snacks together.

Jack *pretending to be yawning before lowering his arm over your shoulders to caress the skin with his thumb*

You *smile knowingly* : "Really ?"

Him *smiles and shrugs* : "…Hey. Am a big fan of the old technics…is it working ?"

You *smile before leaning back against him* : "~Maybe."

Pennywise would let you drag him anywhere, but he’s the type to not like big crowds so…the fact that he can’t go out won’t really be a problem.

He’d be just as happy staying inside and have some time with you. But, don’t expect him to have many date ideas.

Pennywise never dated anyone before, so he’d just let you decide or let you sleep on his lap. Tops.

However, he may sing you to sleep.

And his voice is really soothing when he hums while rocking back and forth on his rocking chair.

Pennywise *starts humming while holding you close and stroking your hair*

You : "…I thought you didn’t like people touching you ?"

Him *smiles* : "Guess you must be the exception, huh dollface ?"

Norman is a gentleman. He’d be holding you and gently swing you back and forth in his arms.

He’d be dancing a waltz with. Or cooking you a good meal. His mother taught him how to be a good cook and to always be as respectful and nice as he can be.

So, he’d also be the type to buy you dinner and buy scented candles and roses for the occasion. And he’d always ask you if you’d had a good time at the end.

Norman *holding you close* : "Was it alright ?"

You *smile and wrap your arms around his waist* : "Perfect."

He’d then smile and let out a relieved sigh.

Norman was taught to be perfect. He would be devastated if you didn’t have fun or didn’t enjoy your time with him.

Freddy can date. But, the dates he went on in the past weren’t exactly heartfelt. He just never got emotionally connected with someone enough to care.

So, he’d try simple at first.

Freddy would either invite you to get a drink or offer to take a look at his garden. Let’s not forget he used to be a gardener. So, he does love flowers.

He’d then wait until it gets dark to ask you if you want him to try something on you.

Freddy never used his powers for anything else than pain or to kill. So, he’d be nervous when first trying to think of the perfect dream date.

Freddy *smiles nervously before taking your hand* : "Trust me ?"

You *smile back* : "Always."

He’d then get inside your head and put his plan into motion. He’d be careful not to hurt you of course and try to make it as perfect as he can.

Because he knows you trust him. And that is something Freddy never got from anyone but the kids he used to love…before they betrayed him.

Bo : "…Beer ?"

Bo is a simple man. It’d normally be a truck ride and drinking beer while looking at the sky, or at whatever is around.

But, as he can’t really leave the facility…he’d just ask you to join him in the courtyard of the hospital to have some s’mores and look up at the sky.

No conversation necessary. But, he’d be happy either way.

Bo : "Thanks fer…Ya know…Sayin’ yes to the whole thing…"

You *smile and shrugs* : "No need. Believe it or not…I like hanging out with you, Bo."

Bo *is stunned before chuckling and handing you a cold drink of your choice* : "Whatever you say, darlin’…"

Bo would be happy to hear it, even if he wouldn’t believe it at first.

Because Bo has always been the failure of his family.

So, why would you ever like his company ? But, he’d let himself dream for a bit. Just for a moment.

Brahms would give you his favourite toys and ask you to play with him. He’d also share his favourite snacks with you and watch cartoons with you.

Brahms is a child at heart and he’d be happy to do anything with you, as long as he spends time with you.

He’d also insist on staying with you for the night.

Brahms *holds you close and starts breathing deeply* : "Nice…day ?"

You immediately understood what he was asking and hugged him back.

You : "Yes. I had a great day. Thank you, Brahms."

He was very happy to hear it and cuddled you closer—even letting you take a peek at his face. He’d become very clingy very quickly.

Brahms has a big fear of being a disappointment and abandonment. So, once he knows you like him ? There’s little chance he’d ever leave you alone.

Michael *A…date ?*

He’d be surprised and even a little nervous at first. Love is a tricky business for Michael, since he technically killed all of the people he ever cared about.

So, he’d be a little worried you’d end up with the same fate.

So, even making him agree to go on a date with you would be tricky.

Michael *frowns and sighs before taking your hand*

You *smile hopefully* : "Is that a yes ?"

Michael *nods after a while*

He’d then lead you to the kitchen and have a little cooking date with him. He knows how to handle a knife and was advised early on to find an activity which would soothe him. He found cooking.

But, cooking with you was different. It felt…better.

Seems like the bogeyman can get lonely too.

Unfortunately, Hannibal Sr. is considered too dangerous to leave his cell most of the time, as he arrived after all the others to St Louis.

So, he’d be either asking you to put on some music for him or to read to him. Two of his favourite things.

Hannibal Sr. *smiles as he tilts his head left and right to the music*

You *smile as you silently observe him* : "Tell me…Why did you ask me on a date ? I mean…You’re always in there. It seems pointless."

Him *stops tilting his head before opening his eyes slowly and smiling at you* : "But, that is precisely the game, my dear. Anticipation makes the deal all the sweeter…"

You : "So…You would rather wait and watch me all day rather than going out on an actual date ?"

Him *chuckles* : "Of course not, my dear…But, even if I never was set free…Spending a lifetime just watching you would be enough for me."

You stared at Hannibal Sr. for a while and he didn’t break eye contact for a second. He had just confessed that he’d be okay with just watching you until the end. And somehow, you believed him.

[sukimii]

Friend/Boyfriend/Husband! Bakugou HC

Tags: fluff, domesticity, descriptions of sexual intercourse, breeding kink.

Friend!Bakugou will help you with paperwork. He will point out mistakes you're doing, and praise you where you've done a good job.

Friend!Bakugou will complain when you slack off, saying that you can't get stronger if you're not training hard enough.

Friend!Bakugou will drag your ass in the agency's private gym and fight with you until you're sweaty, tired, and can barely stand on your feet.

Friend!Bakugou will listen to whatever is bothering you, and his solution to your problems is to use him as a punching bag. He will let you take out any frustration, or anger you have on him. At first, you're reluctant, he wasn't the source of your problem, and taking it out on him seems unfair. But Bakugou can be persuasive in his own way, pushing the right buttons he knows will make you implode.

Friend!Bakugou cares about your health. He will ask you at least once every three days if you've eaten, if yes, good, you're off the hook, if not, will force-feed you whatever he concocted, because he "can't have you faint like an idiot in the middle of a fight"

Friend!Bakugou is wary of the guys that approach you, he can tell right on the spot if someone has bad intentions. He can see through any façade people put on, and he's not one to shy away from speaking his mind whenever something/someone pisses him off.

Friend!Bakugou will clumsily confess his attraction to you, saying how annoying you are because you keep popping up in his mind at the most inopportune moments.

Boyfriend!Bakugou has little to no experience when it comes to expressing his feelings, or emotions. He wants to tell you, to tell the entire world just how smart and pretty you are, but always chickens out.

Boyfriend!Bakugou who, despite having conversational difficulties, will choose to show his appreciation through actions most of the time. Yet, when worn out from work, too tired to pay any attention to anything, will voice out his thoughts. Those are the rare moments in which he showers you in compliments, but would rather try to extract petrol with his bare hands than acknowledge that such thing happened.

Boyfriend!Bakugou will pay extra attention to your mood swings, over time learning what each and every expression and tic means. If he sees you pouting to nothing in particular, he already knows that something has saddened you. If he sees you constantly touching your neck/shoulder, he knows you had slept in an uncomfortable position.

Boyfriend!Bakugou will lend you his sweaters if you're cold and will feign forgetfulness or aloofness so you can keep them for yourself.

Boyfriend!Bakugou will ask you to take it easy on the training, saying that exhausting yourself isn't gonna lead to any improvements. When you tell him that it's not what he had told you before the start of the relationship, he will pretend to not hear you.

Boyfriend!Bakugou will scowl away any man that tries to get too comfortable with you. Will keep both arms protectively around your waist, back-hugging you, while his chin rests on your shoulder as you keep chatting with them. His eyes are narrowed, telepathically telling the guy to 'back the fuck off'

Boyfriend!Bakugou who will take a run to the nearest pharmacy to buy you medicine. When sick, Bakugou will send you poetic vocals as reminders, just in case you forget. "Take your goddamn pills before I come over and shove 'em down your throat"

Boyfriend!Bakugou will spend an entire night being your therapist after a failed mission, paying extra attention to your body language. And if the problem is way deeper than he can handle, will not hesitate to drag your ass to a proper therapist.

Boyfriend!Bakugou will plant himself into your missions whenever he feels something is a bigger threat. The villain you have to take down is an S Class? He'll be involved, whether asked or not. He wants you safe, he needs to see with his eyes that you are safe.

Boyfriend!Bakugou will outright tell you to just wear his clothes, because he likes how they fit on you. He likes to see you flaunting around wearing his stuff, showing off who's the man that is making you happy. Bonus point if it keeps other men away from you.

Boyfriend!Bakugou is insecure about holding your hand because he sweats. A lot. The first time he holds your hand, he had to wipe them down several times, scared that it will gross you out.

Boyfriend!Bakugou is intimidated by the idea of a kiss. You're his first, and screwing up will only plum down his already insecure self. He's relieved when you tell him that you too are a little nervous, it had been so long since your last relationship you worried about being out of practice and potentially disappoint him. When the first kiss is done, Bakugou will ask for more. It quickly become his favorite thing to do with you, second only to cuddling.

Boyfriend!Bakugou slowly grows bold with his actions. The first time he let his hands slide down your back, placing them on your ass, his heart jumps in his throat, looking at you to see if you were in any discomfort. To his surprise, you arch against him, lacing your arms around his neck.

Boyfriend!Bakugou will explore your body like a pirate does on an island in search of treasure. He quickly grows to love every part of your body, and if there are any insecurities he will make sure to wipe them away. Thighs too big/thin? He will pamper them with kisses, force his head between them, and gropes as if they are his lifesaver. Big/Small tits? He will play with them, his attention will be on the mounds until he's sure you know he loves 'em.

Boyfriend!Bakugou will always put your pleasure first. Even if he doesn't know how to make you cum, he will try anything until you do. He cockblocks himself until he's sure you've at least cum twice.

Boyfriend!Bakugou will keep learning your body. He wants to be number one in anything, and that includes the arts of pleasuring you.

Boyfriend!Bakugou doesn't have a rhythm or kinks yet. Growing up focusing solely on becoming a hero, he never gave himself the time to tap into his turn-ons and offs. So, he learns them with you. He learns that having his hand pressed around your neck makes him hard. He learns that having his nipples sucked makes his mind foggy and his body tremble with pleasure. He learns that having your spongy walls clamp around his girth spurs him on, going harder and faster on you. He learns that hearing your broken 'I love yous' when you cum on his cock, makes him lose the little clarity he was left with. He learns that those three words have the power to make him euphorically come undone within seconds.

Boyfriend!Bakugou doesn't know what aftercare is. But is willing to learn everything about it, for you.

Boyfriend!Bakugou is happy. He's at peace when with you. And every little thing makes him fall in love deeper and deeper with you. He loves the feeling of your fingers in his hair. He loves your attempts at cooking, even if they end up being uneatable. Bakugou loves when you draw him a bath after a particularily rough day, especially if you join him. He loves when you wrap your hands around him and just look at him with nothing but adoration and love. Bakugou loves coming home to you dancing in his kitchen while trying some new recipe you saw on the internet.

Boyfriend!Bakugou realizes that he wants you to be a constant in his life. He realizes how loved you make him feel, whole, complete, and it dawns on him how much he wants to put a ring it.

Husband!Katsuki knows you like the back of his hand. He knows how to make your favorite drink, favorite dish, and favorite dessert. He knows when you want something but won't buy it afraid of unnecessary spending, so he will gift it to you. He knows when you don't like something, may it be furniture/décor item/dress/etc, and he's quick to get rid of it. He even knows your menstrual cycle, and it's almost scary how accurate he is.

Husband!Katsuki puts your own comfort before his. He doesn't care if his arm gets all tingly and numb when you sleep on it, nor how he knows that a certain position will give him back or neck pain once awake.

Husband!Katsuki developes a breeding kink. He loves seeing his cum seep out that pretty pussy, thrills traveling up and down his body at the idea of his seed sticking deep into you, swelling you up with his kid. And the image of you round and cozy, drives him feral. And with two fingers, he gathers his cum and pushes it back into your warm cunt.

Husband!Katsuki wants children, lots of 'em. With the goal planted deep in his brain and heart, he fucks you everyday, spilling all his worth into your tight hole, painting your insides hot white, and stays plugged to you even after his dick softens, making sure that it sticks.

Husband!Katsuki is on cloud nine when you confirm your pregnancy. He will make sure to be present to most of your doctor appointments, and if he's on duty, he'll send his mom with you, or asks yours to keep you company.

Husband!Katsuki keeps the ultrasound pictures. He has several copies of them, some are kept in his drawer, another set in his wallet, even in his agency he had a couple. And when he's not busy, and manages to get a couple of minutes away from his colleagues, he will fondly look at them while talking with you over the phone.

Husband!Katsuki takes many pictures of you pregnant. He took so many of 'em that he decides to print them out and make an album, well, several of them. Because when his children will grow older, starting their own path, he wants to remember everything, he want to see their growth, your growth with them and him.

Husband!Katsuki deliberately cries when you give birth. And it doesn't matter if it's your second, third or fourth delivery, he will never get used to it.

Husband!Katsuki is a doting father. Even if one of his children comes out quirkless, he will love them equally. They are his and your product of love. He will never miss his children's recitals, or school activities, unless he's too busy with work, but he knows you'll be there with them. Still, when he misses a school event, he feels guilty, and to make it up, will take some days off to spend with them.

Husband!Katsuki is a great father. If his quirkless child is bullied he is quick to solve the problem. He now is a spokesperson for quirkless rights, women's rights included. Having both daughters and sons, he wants to make sure that there is minimum danger toward minorities/oppressed groups. He wants to make society a better place for both you and his little gremlins.

Husband!Katsuki is usually the one that prepares dinner, when he can. And if not, will make sure to prepare breakfast for the next day. On the days he has more time available on his hands, will also prepare the bentos for everybody.

Husband!Katsuki is mesmerized and incredibly proud of how far he's come. He's enamored with the domestic lifestyle and relatively big family you created with him, and he won't trade it for anything, not even for the number one spot.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Five Christmases

Prompt Day 25: Christmas | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Christmas Day, Full Schedule, Family & Friends, Mostly Fluff, A Little Obligation, Steve POV

Christmas, 1999

8:06 AM

Steve is towel drying his hair, when Eddie pops into the doorway and taps his watch. 

"The day has just started and we're already six minutes behind, Harrington. C'mon!" 

Steve nods, "We'll be fine."

"Steve! Five Christmases! You committed us to five! That's a tight fucking schedule," Eddie shouts, and Steve just laughs. Usually he's the uptight one.

"I told you this was a bad idea," Steve says, just poking at him further. Just for fun, as a Christmas treat.

"This was your idea, asshole," Eddie says, slamming the bathroom door behind him, "I'm leaving in nine minutes, with or without you!"

"Okay, Bono!" Steve screams, not even sure if Eddie heard him.

9:12 AM

"Sorry we're late!" Eddie yells, pushing the front door open, letting themselves inside. "It's Steve's fault!"

Wayne gets up when he hears the door open, and Steve hugs Wayne. Eddie needs to chill the fuck out. Nobody is going to care if they are a few minutes late. Well, his parents will care. But nobody else will, especially not Wayne, that's for damn sure. 

Wayne's house smells wonderful, like maple syrup, coffee and bacon. This was a perfect first stop of the day, nobody does breakfast better than Wayne. 

They help him carry it all to the small formica kitchen table, sliding into the comfortable vinyl chairs, and it tastes as good as it smells. 

This is Christmas. 

The one thing they've done every year they've been together. Breakfast with Wayne. It's the only true Christmas tradition they have, and Steve wouldn't trade it for the world.

11:58 AM

Steve looks at his watch. They definitely aren't late as they stand on the steps, having rung the bell at the Harrington residence. 

Steve debates ringing it a second time, but just waits. Surely they heard it.

And it takes forever, because it's cold as shit out here, but his mother finally answers the door.

"Hi, mom. Merry Christmas," Steve says, and she nods her head at them, opening the door wider.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Harrington," Eddie says, politely. 

The long, formal dining room table is set up, and since it's just for the four of them, it's a little ridiculous. But he slides into his chair, a thousand miles away from everyone else at the table. His parents at either end, and Eddie across from him, hands folded in his lap.

He's nervous, Steve can tell. It never gets more comfortable, this awkward tip-toeing they all do around each other.

His parents know about Eddie, but would rather pretend otherwise, Steve supposes.

So, they eat their awkward meal, in uncomfortable stretches of silence.

In the car, Steve reaches over and takes Eddie's hand into his own, bringing it up to his lips.

"Thank you," Steve says, and Eddie nods. "The next one will be more fun," Steve promises and Eddie grins, wide and excited.

2:11 PM

They are barely up the walkway when the front door swings open, banging against the hallway wall.

"Shoes!" Steve hears being hollered from the house, but it's too late. Eddie's got an armful of little girl, despite her mother's warning.

"Uncle Eddie, Santa came!" she yells and Eddie smiles, brushing the snow off of her bare feet. 

Gareth appears in the doorway, to usher them inside, as his daughter regales them with tales of all her new toys that Santa brought this morning.

Eddie puts her down once they're inside, and rattles the sack he has thrown over his shoulder, full of more presents. 

Gareth shakes his head, but hugs Eddie once Eddie's handed over the sack, and she's ran into the living room, to open them up.

"You didn't have to do that," Gareth says, and Steve hears Eddie laugh. Of course they did.

"Sure we did, that's our girl, too, you know. And it's our right, as her super fun uncles, to spoil her rotten," Eddie states.

Gareth laughs, and settles onto the armrest of the chair Eddie has plopped down into, to watch her tear open the wrapping paper with delight.

5:33 PM

"Merry Christmas, dickhead," Steve says, and hugs Dustin.

"Back atcha," Dustin answers, guiding them into the living room. There's a nice fire going, and it's cozy. 

Steve's glad Henderson finally moved closer to home, again. It's been too long. 

Dustin pours them both a drink, and they sit and just talk. It's quiet, calm, and comfortable. All things Steve never would have assigned to Dustin Henderson, even ten years ago. But he's grown up, right before their very eyes. 

Their kid.

He'll always be their kid.

7:45 PM

Robin's running around her kitchen, and it smells slightly of smoke, so as soon as they're in the door, they both step in to help her, so she doesn't actually burn the place down. She wanted to do dinner by herself this year, and they'd all agreed, but she's clearly in over her head.

"I just spilled on the burner! It's fine! Nothing's on fire!" she yells, and Steve picks up the smoke detector from the counter, that's clearly been yanked off the wall.

"I can confirm!" Robin's girlfriend yells from the other room.

And honestly? Steve thinks they're both right, taking a good look around the kitchen. It all looks really good. A huge mess, for sure, but damn good. 

"It looks great, Robbie. You're killing it," Steve says, hugging her from behind, and she shrugs him off, still moving at warp speed around the kitchen. 

When they head towards the table, Steve kisses Robin on the top of the head before taking his seat, "Thanks for going to all this trouble."

Robin just rolls her eyes.

11:54 PM

"Merry Christmas," Steve says, as Eddie slides into bed, flopping against his pillow, groaning at the simple pleasure of the act.

"I have one more present for you," Steve says, sliding his hand over Eddie's bare stomach, and that gets Eddie's attention. 

"I'm listening…"

Steve laughs, and leans over, kissing him. 

Notes: The idea came from the Gilmore Girls episode where they have to go to four Thanksgivings in one day. Then I was googling the spelling of Christmases (to make sure, ha) and realized there is a movie called Four Christmases. So, that too, I guess, lol.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

[zenovoid]

Tall Genshin Characters with a Short!Reader

Synopsis: How genshin characters would be while dating a dwarf (aka you)

Characters: Al-Haitham, Zhongli, Childe, Ayato

[Fluff, slight crackfic, gn!reader, continuation of my post about short characters x tall reader which you can read here.)

————————————

Al-Haitham —-

Come on- that dude will never let you forget it. He’s going to be so subtle and snide about it to. He’ll ask you to get something for him that’s just slightly out of your reach, then he’ll pretend he forgot that you were SO short. You’re never going to live this down.

When he isn’t in a cocky “i’m taller then thou” attitude he may let you sit on his lap while he studies. Just don’t bother him too much or else it’s Punt You Across the Room time.

Being short isn’t a bad thing at all though. The amount of times you have successfully scared this man is shocking. Two time’s you’ve succeeded! Who knew hiding in the cupboards would be such a scary thing for Al-Haitham?

————————————

Zhongli —-

Unlike sassy gray hair man, he doesn’t really care at all. As a matter of fact, he finds it endearing. He feels that if you were any taller you wouldn’t look nearly as cute. I can see you two snuggling pretty often with you in his lap as he tells you stories.

Whenever you fall asleep on his lap he silently thanks your parents for giving you genes for being short. If he had to carry someone his height and size it wouldn’t be the easiest thing in the world.

Head. Pats. 100%. You get them all the time. At home? Pats. Walk down the streets of liyue? Pats. Eating dinner? Pats. You cannot escape the head pats so lets hope you enjoy them.

————————————

Childe —-

He’s Al-haitham but a million times worse. He’s the man that can and WILL bring out your inner chihuahua. Even if you’re usually really calm and collected, or even shy! This man will bring out your wrath.

He’d constantly pick you up and swing you around like a toddler, he’d rest his arm on your head or shoulders, he’d constantly ask if you needed help reaching anything, the whole nine yards. At least you are in the perfect range for a dick kick.

However one side you definitely weren’t expecting from the tease of a man was how protective he is of you. He’s always looking out for you wether you realize it or not. He’s always holding your hand or having an arm wrapped around you. Trust me when I say he won’t let any unwelcomed hand touch you, that’s a promise.

————————————

Ayato —-

He finds your height “most amusing”. Yeah, amusing. He wouldn’t be one to shove it in your face or anything, but when you’re trying to reach the place that’s a l i t t l e too high… You can hear him snicker before he grabs it for himself. He finds your struggles entertaining, what a weirdo.

This does mean however, that you got one of the most important people in Inazuma to basically act as your servant. You need to grab something that’s miles away from the bed? Ayatoooooo! You want to reach the last bit of whatever sounds good to you? Ayatooooo! You’ve managed to subtly wrap him around your finger, and of course he obliges… Sometimes.

Sometimes when he’s in a good mood he’ll offer a piggyback ride through the wilderness. If you agree, then have fun observing everything a few feet higher! If not, then he’d probably find some other way to pick you up. Why he wants to pick you up so badly you’ll never know.

[dreaming-tonite]

Lovesong (whenever I’m alone with you)

— Even the toughest punk needed a place to call home at the end of the day.

A/N: finished the Spider-Punk solo comic run and I just want to give him a hug...

Pairing: Hobie Brown x reader

Warning: description of open wounds, little hurt and a lot of comfort

Word count: 1.3k

It was usually the crack of dawn when he showed up.

A thump from the living room stirred you awake. The sun was already filtering in through your blinds but the sound of rummaging still put you on alert immediately, instinctively reached for the wooden bat Hobie made you put near your bed when he wasn't around before carefully creeping out of your bed.

("Could never be too careful," he had said, shoving you the bat that he got from god knows where as he perched on your window, mask in hand and guitar on his back, "it's a fucking war zone out there.")

A lean shadow projected onto your walls, limping on its side when you peeked from your door.

You dropped the bat when you recognised who it was immediately.

"Hobie?"

Spider-Punk froze in place when you flipped your lights on, the illumination guiding your eyes to his palm that pressed against the side of his stomach in an instant. His guitar was on the floor somewhere near the window he was swung into your house with, a few specks of blood on the neck and strings loosened from what must have been a long night.

If he was being honest, he felt like shit. But from the corner of his eyes, the sight of you wearing his band t that was far too loose on you still made him want to try to look ok for your sake.

"Mornin' love," he tried to drop his arm but winced as a sharp pain pulsated through his core, eyes furrowing under his mask while crouching forward, "didn't mean to wake you up."

he gave in when you rushed to his side, his free arm swinging over your shoulder limply and trying his best to not put his weight on your smaller frame. Your brows locked together when you saw the red seeping through his suit, bleeding out from where he was trying to hold it in.

"It isn't a deep cut," he said softly, though he was sure it wouldn't make you worry any less, "think I just tore it a lil when I was swinging over, that's all."

"Should I get someone? Ask someone else in the Spider Band to get you back to the base—"

"No, that wouldn't be— that wouldn't be necessary," he paused briefly, "we ran out of gauze at the community centre, thought I'd have a bigger chance finding something to stop the bleeding at your place instead."

He lied, and it was a bad one as well, because you were the one who always made sure their first aid kits were well-stocked and prepared for any sudden raids or clashes they might find themselves into.

The least you could do to support your lover's relentless effort to take down a totalitarian government.

But you didn't say anything, only held onto him when his balance was starting to fail him.

You stumbled backwards before regaining your footing when he lumped forward, his tall frame hinging onto yours as he leaned his masked face onto your shoulder, a muffled groan vibrating against your skin.

"Hobie? Hobes?" you panicked, "Are you sure you're ok? Let me go get the bandages to patch you up—"

"No, just..." he buried his face deeper into the crook of your neck, still careful to make sure the spikes on his mask were out of the way and that he was not getting blood on the shirt you seemed so comfortable in, all while the tiredness slowly took over, "stay with me like this, just for a while."

So you did, taking in a deep breath and letting your eyes close so that the only thing you could feel was him, how he was alive and breathing against you.

Spider-Punk was a fighter, for the people and for the cause. He had lost enough already, and every day he was fighting to grasp at the last bits they were trying to pull from his hands.

The world was not okay, and the only way to pretend it was is to become the kind of people he loathed so much, which he would much rather die fighting than ever become one of those people.

You were sure he loved more deeply than anyone else, because how else could you stay angry at the unjust in the world when the abnormal had become the norm?

It takes a lot of love to try and make things right, and all you wished was that you could give him the same amount of love he had given the world.

So, he was sure you already knew why he still wanted to see you at this unholy hour in the morning, through the pain he was enduring, even just for the brief moment before the sunrises and the city wakes up fully.

Perhaps, deep down, even the toughest fighter wanted to feel like there was somewhere where things were alright, and seeing you safe in the t-shirt he left at your place made him feel like he was alright.

"It's ok, it's ok, I got you..." you fell onto the floor with him when his knees finally bucked, fumbling to lay him down as gently as you could with all his weight on your arms.

This time he didn't protest, perhaps too tired to do it any longer, and he didn't say a word when your fingers stopped at the seam of his mask.

The sound of the first few cars to drive by in the morning was all that filled the living room as he stared right at you, tilting his head slightly to his side as a silent sign to go ahead.

You had always known, but you still liked to ask anyways.

"Hey," Hobie said when you pulled his mask off, a soft smile toying at the corner of his lips as he finally faced you properly.

You couldn't help but let out a chuckle. "Hey," you replied, voice almost like a whisper as you kneeled at his side.

His body stiffened as you carefully peeled his hand away from the bleeding wound and you winced when you saw the skin that was cut open.

"Not a deep cut, you say?" You crooked your brows, pulling out the first aid kit you had stashed away under the nearest table.

"Hm," he hummed, trying his hardest not to jerk forward in pain when you gently peeled off the fabric that stuck to his skin from the dried-up blood, "not a deep one compared to the wound on the other guy."

He watched the way you rolled your eyes at him before averting your attention back to the task a hand. He liked to watch when you were focused, the way you sat cross-legged on the floor and eyebrows scrunched up while taking care of him.

Your shadow was long against the wall as the morning light filled the room, a rare moment of serenity before the day starts when the sound of the outside world felt calming for once.

It felt right, and it felt safe, and his eyes were starting to feel heavy as the morning warmth lured him to sleep.

And you must have seen the way his lids twitched as he tried to stay awake. "It's ok, just let go," you nodded, your thumb tracing down from his temple to his jaw until you were cradling his face, "you're home, you can rest."

Home, the word rolled off your tongue so naturally that he simply could not resist it.

"Sweet dreams," you whispered against his lips and through the drowsiness, he still grinned when he felt the soft peck as he drifted into slumber.

And when he woke up to the sight of you curled up at his side, Hobie knew he finally found his place in the world where things were alright.

[lady-rose-moon]

Wildest Dreams || Loki x Reader || 18+

Hellooooo everybody this is the insight into the fic that I shall be hopefully really proud to post! I'm going to post the prologue for you to read in this, let me know your theories in the comments and reblogs about what might be going on <3 I'll be setting up a taglist for this as well so please do tell me if you want to be tagged!!!

PROLOGUE

A golden castle always came to you in a dream, surrounded by beautiful gardens and bluer skies than you’d ever seen on Earth before. There were so many colours in the sky, so many beautiful reflections in your paradise that you could never find in your dull life on Earth. The greenest grass beneath your feet felt softer than any of the grass you’d ever felt before. The gentle breeze seemed to have a faint sense of magic if anyone would believe it as it brushed your hair away. This dream was your paradise, your little getaway from the boring, grey reality you lived in.

Waking up was the worst part of your day, leaving your little slice of paradise hidden away in a dream to return to the Real World. Sitting up in bed, you savoured those extra moments of drowsiness before swinging your legs over the side of the bed and rising to meet the day. After a shower and your hair and skin routine, you started to feel more like yourself but your mind lingered on the beauty of your dream as you counted the coins that would buy you your morning coffee down at your favourite shop a few blocks away.

You grabbed your keys from the dish by your apartment door and headed out into the world, turning the key in the lock before walking away. Stepping out onto the street, you were met with the usual bustle of London and quickly joined the crowd, head low and avoiding any kind of interaction with any other human being. It wasn’t far to the coffee shop but it was far away enough that your mind drew back to your dream, your walk becoming autopilot.

As you thought about the golden palace walls from your dreams, you heard a horn and felt a strong arm grab you around your waist, pulling you close and away from danger. Shocked, you froze as the car zoomed past, a faint ‘watch where you’re going, numpty’ being thrown out of the window with no care for stopping.

“Are you alright?” came a voice from beside you, startling you away from your thoughts and you stared up in shock at the man holding you, the man that had just saved your life. His eyes were a beautiful emerald green, his ebony hair reached his shoulders in beautiful curls and his suit. His suit. A simple one yet the green and gold accents all about it complimented him so well that you couldn’t imagine anyone else wearing such an expensive suit. “Hello?” the man asked, gaining your attention yet again and you startled when you saw a smirk form on his lips as your cheeks heated up with embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you replied instantly, pushing away from the man in a hurry, brushing your clothes off then offering him a polite smile, “thank you, for saving my life. Nobody else would’ve done it.”

The man chuckled, bowing his head as his shoulders shook with his amusement. You grimaced, not appreciating this man laughing before you as you assumed he was laughing at how pathetic you sounded. Yet, when he replied, it only shocked you more. “Darling, anyone who would not stand up to the Goddess of Death to save your life is no worthy man. Adieu.”

With that, the man turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd. Immediately, you sobered and called out to him, “you can’t say something straight out of a fantasy novel then leave me on my own!”

But the man was gone.

Your day continued as usual after that experience. You grabbed your coffee, headed to your job and worked the 9-5 then proceeded on your way home. It wasn’t exactly an easy day. Angry customers calling up every few seconds, shouting abuse down the phone and you pretending to care as you sipped your long cold coffee and assisted them in the best way possible without hurling abuse right back at the disrespectful pricks.

With a sigh, you began your journey home. The trees were blowing in the breeze, cars filled the streets as was usual for London during rush hour – any hour really. That’s why you secured a job pretty close to home, so you could easily walk there and back in at the most around 45 minutes. You’d almost forgotten the man from this morning until you collided with a hard chest and long fingers reached out to hold you steady.

Looking up, your face paled with embarrassment as you realised that it was the same man that had saved you this morning. His hair was now tied up in a half up-half down man bun but even that suited the man. His suit was replaced with a nice dress shirt, waistcoat and black trousers but damn did he suit them anyway.

“Ah, so you’re the clumsy type, is that it?” the man joked with a grin as your cheeks tinted red and you avoided looking at him. Amused by your behaviour, the man cooed and continued, “don’t be embarrassed, darling, happens to the best of us.”

Scoffing, you pushed away from him and passed him, grabbing your keys from your pocket as you saw your apartment building not that far off. “I’m not clumsy, you just caught me at a vulnerable moment. Twice,” you shrugged and saluted him sarcastically, “adieu.”

As you walked off, the man simply stood watching you, his grin turning to a sad smile as he whispered, “adieu, darling.”

tagging my friendos!! @holdmytesseract @anukulee @lokisgoodgirl @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fictive-sl0th @coldnique @stupidthoughtsinwriting @muddyorbsblr

[bangtanficsforyou]

Home Sweet Home (JJK)

Pairing: (Bunny hybrid) Jungkook x Reader.

Genre: floof

Word count: 1.5K

Warnings: curse words ig?

Au: established relationship au.

Based on this request.

If you enjoy my writing consider supporting my patreon!

You're oddly surprised when a warm body doesn't collide with yours upon your arrival. Looking around the living room you find no trace of the man that regularly greets you with a wide bunny grin and warm bear hugs. 

He must be asleep, you deduce and decide to head over to his room. 

When you swing the door open, your previous thought is proved right when you notice him peacefully sleeping with blankets wrapped all around him. 

You walk inside the room without making a sound and for a few moments, silently observe his features. He looks so cute and precious sleeping like this, without a worry about the world. You only wish to keep him this content as long as he will allow you to. 

Without even realising what you're doing, your hand gently brushes a few strands of his hair from his face. However, when the body moves suddenly to cover their head with the blanket, you're taken by surprise and yelp, not having expected the sudden movement. 

Is he not asleep? 

"Jungkook?" You call his name out and recieve a grunt in response, confirming your suspicions. "Hey baby, are you not feeling well?" 

Jungkook doesn't answer and only tightens the blanket around him, which makes you frown in concern. 

"Baby, are you okay?" When he still refuses to answer, you shake his body softly urging him to respond. 

Jungkook grunts once again to show his displeasure. "You do not have to worry about me. You can stay at office all you want."

Your hands pause when you register his words. So this is what it is about. He hasn't been asleep at all. If anything, he had probably made his way to bed when he had heard your foot steps approaching. 

You snicker silently at the thought of him doing that to show his protest. Just when you think he cannot get any cuter. 

"The very least you could do is to not laugh," Jungkook's muffled voice greets your ears, immediately halting your laughter. 

Sometimes, you tend to forget that he's a hybrid which means he can hear even the slightest of sounds, your silent laughter not being an exception. 

"I'm sorry," you apologise, genuinely feeling bad for laughing. "What can I do to earn your forgiveness?" 

Jungkook remains quiet for a few moments and maybe you know him a little too well to know that he isn't actually mad, he never actually is, when it comes to you. He only ever decides to be a little bit dramatic when he feels like you haven't been giving him enough attention. 

"Kookieee," whining his name you tickle him over the blankets. Despite the thick layer of protection, Jungkook squirms and soon scoots away from you. 

You huff. "Fine, I will sit here as long as you don't talk to me."

Saying so you take a seat on the now empty side of bed. 

A few moments later a pair of hands make their way out and he peeks at you with only his eyes and the messy mop of his curls visible. 

"You can make up to me by getting under the blanket, right now," he grumbles cutely. 

Fighting off the urge to smile, you remove your jacket and get rid of your belt to be more comfortable. Jungkook loosens the blanket enough so that you can get in and the moment you do, you're instantly pulled closer by a pair of limbs. 

"Much better," he whispers, his nose skimming gently across your cheek. 

You chuckle at his actions and wrap your arm around his torso. "I'm still in my work clothes."

Jungkook looks at you for a second before breaking into a wide grin, no longer pretending to be angry. "I couldn't care less about anything with you in my arms like this."

"Such a drama king you are," you mumble softly, placing a small kiss at the juncture of his neck. 

"Sometimes you gotta be like that if the love of your life isn't giving you enough attention," whining cutely, he complains and places several kisses on any expanse of skin he has access to. 

You giggle and squirm at the tickling sensation but it only causes Jungkook to hold you tighter. 

"Stop squirming," he nibbles at your neck causing you to laugh even more. 

"I can't help it, it tickles."

His actions slow down and he simply buries his face in the crook of your neck, "this feels nice."

"I know," you hum. "I'm sorry I have been busy lately and that we have barely got any time to spend."

You feel him softly smile against your skin. "It's okay. I missed you but now that you're here, it's all okay."

You're aware that Jungkook knows how heavy the workload has recently been. You're grateful that he understands and is always so willing to do whatever it is to make things easier for you. But you won't lie, sometimes you too wish you could work from home like Jungkook does and be in his presence more. Admittedly, these feelings only ever occur to you when your work simply doesn't allow you to make time for anyone or anything else, like the last few days. 

"I missed you too," you mumble into his hair, the soft smell of his shampoo enveloping you in immense amounts of comfort. 

"Lies," he scoffs. "If you had missed me, you'd have smothered me with kisses by now to express exactly how much you missed me."

You scoff right back at him. "You know you can just ask if you want me to kiss you."

"But where's the fun in that?" 

"You're such a brat, you know?" Laughing in disbelief, you run your fingers through his hair.

"Yeah? Want me to teach a lesson or something?" His body shakes with waves of soft laughter and warm puffs of breath hit your skin. 

"Maybe, I should," you say in a thoughtful manner, taking his words into consideration. "Maybe I won't kiss you, that should sure teach you a lesson."

Jungkook's laughter stops immediately and he looks up at you with offence written all over his face. "You do not mean that." 

"Maybe I do," you shrug softly, trying to hold yourself back from smiling. 

Jungkook levels his face with yours and looks at you as if he were a sad kicked puppy. "You really won't kiss me?" 

"Nope," you pop the 'p' and watch in amusement as his face contorts into pure disbelief. 

"Heyyyyyy," he whines and somehow you know this time he isn't being dramatic. He really doesn't like the idea of you not giving him kisses. "This is not fair."

"What isn't?" 

"You not kissing me," he complains. "I was waiting the whole day for you to come back home and this is what I get? No kisses?"

You chew on your bottom lip to hold yourself back from kissing him right at that very moment. Jungkook is adorable, he always is. But there's nothing more tempting to you then when his plump lips protrude to form a pout. 

"Baby, my sweet girl, darling of mine," he presses his lips against your cheek and gradually, almost as if magnetically he inches closer to your lips. Pressing a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth, he retreats. "Kiss me. Please."

You wanted to continue teasing him a little longer. But you should have known better. With Jungkook looking at you like that and with his lips hovering over yours, nothing in the world could stop you from closing the gap. 

The moment your lips meet his, Jungkook sighs in relief. His lips mold against yours and he matches your pace with one of his hands now resting on your hips. 

You place your palm on his face and your fingers gently rub across the skin of his cheek. Jungkook is gentle, soft, sweet and everything nice. You kiss him with a tenderness that is delicate yet one which sets his soul on fire. He isn't sure what is it that you do but everytime you kiss him, his soul feels a little more alive, he feels a little more like himself and he feels love in a way that makes him want to drown in it. 

He spends most of his day in the apartment doing his work on his laptop. It's absurd but to him this place without your presence is just that to him, an apartment. It's only when you are with him, that it feels like home. You're home. You're his home. 

"I love you," he whispers, a little breathless but not from the kissing, rather from the warmth that's flowing through his veins.

"I love you too, baby," you smile and place a small peck on his lips. "Now let me get changed and take a shower."

"Five more minutes," he says and doesn't give you the chance to protest for the next thing you know he's laying with his head on your chest, enjoying the soft thumping of your heartbeat. 

You close your eyes and relax because when have you ever been able to say no to him. 

[bowieandqueen11]

Steve Rogers SFW Alphabet, A-M

Request: Oooh can I also request a SFW headcanon A-M with Steve Rogers pls?

Of course my lovely, here you go! <3 If anyone would like the second half do let me know!

(I do not own Captain America or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @askthesuperhusbands. SFW Alphabet template credit goes to @keylimedie.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

HUGS!! SO. MANY. HUGS. Steve has lost a lot in his life: his parents, his best friend, and even his own time and prior life, so he grips onto you at every opportunity he can get for two main reasons. One: to close his eyes, dip his head into your neck and breathe in your scent, reminding himself that you're real. He hasn't lost you, and neither are you some kind of ethereal dream, or a HYDRA cruel illusion. Secondly: he's afraid that if his strong arms aren't around your waist, tucking you into his pecs until your palms are resting gingerly against them, that somehow the universe will find a way to take away the one thing he cares about most in the world.

He's definitely a kissy man as well. Not huge, PDA, sweeping you off your feet kind of kisses, because he has some of that residue nervousness from before the serum, when he was just an overlooked kid trying his best to fight for a scrap of any prestige. His kisses are far sweeter: he often leans down before he has to leave the Avengers Tower for a mission, a shy smile shining from his radiant face as he slowly pecks your lips. He's embarrassed when he's found out for it, but sometimes he adds an extra little nose rub against your own before he fully pulls away.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Steve Rogers is both the best and absolute best friend to have. I mean, like Bucky, the three of you all became friends in the 1930's, when you run over to help Buck fend off a bunch of bullies from a very irritated looking Steve. When you had given Steve your hand to pull him back onto his feet, at first he seemed to be holding his fingers to his side and wincing at the way his ribs hurt with each tug. When he finally looked up, though, and saw you... man, he still gives you that star-struck, mouth agape stare now as he did back then.

Although you have to spend half your time running down alleyways with Buck, trying to find Steve and stop him from bloodying up his nose too bad, and then a quarter of your time on top of that trying to drag the surprisingly headstrong man back into bed after his asthma attacks, the remaining time spent with Steve is incredible. A lot of time is spent out in diners, Steve pretending he isn't blushing on the stool next to you as you slide your milkshake across the counter and trying to get him to share your straw. Or, you persuade him to try the dance halls: at first he's terrified, his hand shaking on your waist and ducking his head down against your chest as his second left foot stamps against your own. Eventually, the ongoers and swing band whirls past like sparks of fireworks as you and Steve come to an agreement: he'll stand on your feet and grip tightly onto your hand as you trot the two of you about. He's laughing so much against your chin, that soon his fingers are clenched so tightly against your palm that he feels like they're burning once he shakes them out.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

This man is the ultimate cuddler. It comes from multiple, cold, New York nights, where he and Buck could barely afford the rent, and had to spend the night curled up together under his mother's old, mildew stained couch cushions. He knows how to tuck up into a person, which is why it's so sweet that often times in bed he'll try to tuck himself up to your front, curling up like a hedgehog despite his larger stature now. If your arms get tired from holding itself over and around his bicep though, he immediately can tell, and immediately feels really bad. He's getting a lot more accustomed to being the big spoon, feeling a sense of pride at the exhale of pure peace you give when you feel his knees knock up behind your own. Once his hard chin bumps against the top of your head, and you can feel his fluttering heartbeat rest right against your spine, you're able to fall into the most deep, peaceful sleep you've had in a long time.

D = Darling  (Pet names)

'Doll' is definitely his go to, mainly out of habit. Sam tried to trick him a couple of times into trying to call you some really cheesy nicknames from like the 90s like 'my boo', but he still sometimes calls you it to tease you after he saw how hard you laughed at his stuttering pronunciation. Bless his heart.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Since you're literally the love of Steve's life - his soulmate, it would take something insurmountable to make Steve break up with you. Even being apart for missions makes his whole body feel like it was going to collapse in on itself. He was that twenty three year old again, ducking back from enemy fire and taking a respite to pull the crinkled photograph of you out of his pocket. He'd carried it with him, even tucked into his suit when he fell into the ice, and something about rubbing his thumb over the curve of your smiling, black and white cheek manages to stifle the ferocious burn of yearning that smoulders in his stomach.

Therefore, if he were to break up with you, he would only do it if he had no other choice. Perhaps he had to leave, go incognito, was sent out on a mission he knew he wouldn't come back from. He knows you. He knows you can take care of yourself. You know that you could bounce back from this. But if you were in danger because of him... if he lost you, because of his selfishness to keep you by his side at all times, he would never be able to forgive himself. He's spent a lot of nights crying silently in bed at the thought, but he knows deep down it's the right thing to do if the situation arises.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Oh my god, Steve wanted to marry you from the first moment his eyes glanced over your ethereal form. It started to get on Bucky's nerves, how often he would state it; when they were waiting by the railings at Cony Island for you to get to the top of the cotton candy queue, Steve had his hands stuck into his pockets, tenderly stroking at the fringes of his suspenders, as he put all his energy into smiling over at you. 'I'm going to marry Y/n one day, ya know?' Buck would just shake his head and slap Steve's back, but even he couldn't fault how perfect the two of you were for each other.

Or when the three of you were curled up underneath Steve's battered sofa cushions, a scratchy blanket the only thing keeping you warm as you huddled on the icy floor one unsympathetic New York night. You were tight as a bug in the middle, Buck's legs pulled up against your back, and Steve curled up facing you on your left. When he thought you were asleep, you felt the blanket rustle a little before the feel of his slight pointer finger suddenly graced the curve of your jaw: it was quick and slight, like the wings of a dragonfly dancing over the ripples of a pond so deep and enticing, that they can't help but want to drown. 'I swear, I'm going to marry you someday. You'll the only person I'll ever love, Y/n', he whispered into the dim cracked light flooding through the slants of the apartment's blinds, wistfully sighing at the lack of reply. You were too shell shocked to move, willing your eyes to remain shut when he carefully reached forwards and pressed the full extent of his shaking palm against the open side of your face.

Yeah, let's just say that when he proposes in Avengers Tower, you're not nearly as surprised as he is when you say yes. The two of you are weeping and grinning an equal amount as he grabs onto your waist and spins you in his arms, though.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

This man is incredibly soft. He's always there for you emotionally always. He seems to have a sixth sense for whenever something is off with you, and before you can even groan in frustration he's intertwined your fingers and is dragging you into one of the empty rooms in the Tower. He doesn't want to scare you, or make you feel as if you have to talk to him though, so he sits at the board room table next to you and just... places your hands on his knees. That's it. He just massages the edges of your fingers, and looks at you with that look: that knowing, one eyebrow raised look, as if he's saying 'I know you. I know you better than I know myself. And I'll wait forever, do whatever, to make sure you're alright again.' The look of sheer love in the bottle blue depths is enough to make your bottom lip wobble, and it doesn't take long for your frustrations with Tony to come spilling out.

Although he's super gentle, he does immediately get... not angry, but annoyed? He's the sort of guy that wants to sort out the situation for you, no matter what it is or how dangerous. It's like when it comes to you, something switches in his brain. His face falls into a stern line, the muscle in his jaw twitching, and you have to desperately pull him back by the bicep to stop him going out and getting himself hurt.

He's super gentle physically as well, but it's all the more evident when the two of you are out on a mission and he hasn't heard from you over the walkie talkie for a while. His heart hammers a million miles per minute as he runs through the navel base, peering like a man possessed down each corridor, and throwing desks out of the way as he hunts for you. When you finally bump into him on Deck 3, confused as to why he was so worried as you had only lost radio contact around fifteen minutes ago, you barely have time to register the look of pure fear on his face before he's wrapped you in his arms. It's as if he's holding onto a baby bird, the way his hands tremble as they spread over your lower back and tuck you against his chin. You have to reassure him you're alright, and pretend for his sake that you don't feel the wet splash of lone tears he was unable to hold back on the top of your head.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

As I said under the last point, bro does Steve give good hugs dear lordie lord. Have you seen this man??

Before the serum, Steve wasn't much of a huggy guy, mainly because he was too embarrassed about his feelings to show them so evidently and implicitly. You might have got the old half-shoulder press when you left him back at this door after a day spent out at the park, but that would have been about it.

Post serum Steve cannot keep his hands off you. Although I don't feel like he's one for massive amounts of PDA in front of the other Avengers, mainly because he's fed up of getting teased all the time by Tony for it, it's much more recurrent in private. He hugs you every morning in bed: before you've even managed to blink your eyes fully open, Steve's shuffled under the covers and over towards your back. His lips are puffed: warm and languid as they slide kisses down the back of your shoulder blade, his arm strong and tight as it winds around your waist. 'Good morning', he murmurs as his bottom lip wipes delicately over the back of your neck, smiling to himself as you groan and shove yourself back against his touch.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Steve's told you he loves you a lot, but mainly when he thinks you're asleep or otherwise are too preoccupied to hear him. He's whispered it to you during sleepovers since you were both seven years old: he's murmured it to the breeze when you jump up from picnics in Central Park and wave him off, running back home before your mother realises you've been gone so long. He states it plainly into the night, when he's restless and alone in his apartment, with only his chipping ceiling keeping his pining mind company.

The first time he told you properly, though, was right before he fell into the ice. It was the last thing, as far as you thought, that he had ever said to you. He had promised to take you dancing again, now that he didn't have two left feet, and that he would meet you at six o'clock next week in your favourite spot by old Mrs McGee's Diner on 10th street. Before the radio had fizzled out into the deafening sound of silence, the words he had stated, so candid and forthright, as if they were the truest words in the world, had stabbed your heart with each whirring crackle. 'I love you, Y/n. I always have. I always will. I'm sorry I couldn't give you more.'

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

I do have to say, poor Stevey does get jealous. In the back of his head, when he sees you talking and laughing during group hangouts with Thor, he reverts back to that skinny version of himself, who spent all day every day watching Bucky introduce new guys to you. He can't help the way that same overwhelming feeling of jealousy bubbles up from his gut and moves his limbs before he even realises, but he's quick to come stand by your side.

He's polite though, adding quips and bits to the conversation, but making it obvious to the both of you that he's there to just survey the scene. To calm down his nerves, even though he trusts you wholeheartedly. His eyes will keep flicking down to your eyes, then your nose, then your lips, and although he'll try to keep some self restraint and stop his arm from reaching out to latch on to you, if you're talking to someone he doesn't know he's less likely to be able to control himself.

Be ready to be lifted up and shoved up against the elevator wall before it's even completely closed on the Gala. Steve's shoved your thighs apart and hefted them up in the air so he can stand between your legs, his lips bruising as he kisses the side of your mouth, his hands simultaneously reaching up to undo the buttons of your dress shirt. He can't help it. He needs to show you how much he adores you.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

They range from soft and sweet to hot and heavy. They're more, let's say polite in public. Say the two of you wander into the Avenger's kitchens at the same time, and as an act of fondness he'll reach for the coffee tin past your side while also leaning his head down to peck your lips. Just sweet little reminders through the day that he loves you.

Some are more languid and wistful though. When the two of you discovered that the Winter Soldier was really Bucky?? Steve was nearly inconsolable, despite how strong a façade he tried to put up for Natasha. The kisses that night are far more fervent, as you walk into Sam's spare bedroom to find Steve hasn't even taken his jacket off yet. He's just sitting on the edge of the mattress, a ten yard stare straight down at the floor as he clenches and wrangles his hands together. You have to come between his legs carefully, trying your best not to disturb him too much, before cupping his cheeks between your hands. You press soft little kisses around the tip of his nose, his eyes falling shut heavily, the weight of the world on his shoulders. It surprises you to find that he's the one to part his reddened lips, still raw from crying, and grabs a hold onto your bottom lip.

He loves to kiss the corner of your mouth, mainly because 1) he's spent pretty much every day of his childhood staring at your lips and daydreaming about the way they'd feel against yours, but 2) he still feels to shy, as if he doesn't deserve to actually be able to kiss you.

As for himself, he loves it when you kiss his forehead. It was a little idiosyncrasy the two of you had - when you were younger, the first time Steve had gotten beaten up, you had smuggled him back into your house and plopped him down on your father's favourite arm chair, right by the living room window. He was awestruck as you ran into the kitchen, amazed at the way you had absolutely no fear as you stole a bottle of your parents Vodka, and gathered some gauze from underneath the kitchen sink. He had been too stock still, too nervous to move as you tried to tidy up the cuts around his eyebrow as best as you could, but he had made this embarrassing little squeak when you had leant down to kiss the top of your forehead once you were finished.

Because you found it so sweet, how bashfully he had pulled his woollen jumper over his eyes and tried to bury himself down into the cushion, absolutely mortified, you did it again. And again. Until it was a little check in between the two of you: a kiss on the forehead to let each other know you were alright. It makes him feel safe, and still makes his heart thunder in his chest the way it did the first time.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

I feel like Steve probably wouldn't be too keen to have children, mainly because of how dangerous and uncertain your lifestyles are. He's a pretty good uncle though! When Cassie was younger, and Scott had been invited round to the Avengers Tower by Tony to get the low down on him, you had opened the door to the main area to find Steve had joined in on their little tour. He had plopped Cassie on his shoulders, and was more than happy to spend the day telling her about all the goings on with the Avengers, and listening to her gossip about what her friends had been up to in school.

He's kind, and gentle around children, but doesn't particularly want them himself. Some part of him still worries that he'll pass on all the childhood illnesses he had, and he doesn't want to put another human being through the pain of that.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings usually go two ways.

As I said before, he cuddles up against your back and leaves soft hickeys against your back until J.A.R.V.I.S. politely asks the two of you to stop,

He drags you out of bed at the crack of dawn and makes you go for runs with Sam. He loves having that time to be able to catch up with his friend, but also finds it too much fun turning the early workout into a competition with you. If the two of you aren't shoving into each other, playfully pushing each other with your arms in your attempt to get back to the Washington Monument first, than all can be heard is your joint giggles as you team up to do laps around Sam and annoy the heck out of him.

Either way, his perfect morning always involves you.

[aanoia]

Also also what about mine by Taylor swift with Remus?!?

It's out finally! I don't know why this was so hard to make lmfao.

Mine

Remus Lupin x reader words; 2226 (222 has been showing up EVERYWHERE and it's funny bc i found out my life path number is 11/2) song; Mine by T Swizzle (Taylor Swift) Warnings; death? idek gonna be working on requests for a while tonight by the way so expect more coming out! I just got my own henna cones bc im obsessed with henna i think it's so gorgeous (i would go to an actual henna artist to get it done bc i SUCK (for now) and we love supporting small businesses, but the only time there's one in my city is during the fair so i decided to buy my own) anywho have fun, LOVE YOU LOVING-AND-DREAMING &lt;3

Oh-oh, oh-oh

Oh-oh, oh-oh

You were in college working part time waitin' tables

Left a small town, never looked back

“Mr. Lupin, would you like to explain what is so interesting about Miss L/n, or may we continue with no distractions?” Professor McGonagall asked and I looked up from my paper as Sirius let out little laughs. Remus turned red as he smiled sheepishly at McGonagall.

“You may continue.” He said quietly and she nodded, smirking slightly.

“Thank you for your permission.” She said sarcastically and continued. Remus glanced at me again and I looked back down to my paper, pretending not to notice.

I was a flight risk with a fear of falling

Wonderin' why we bother with love if it never lasts

“Siriu-”

Sirius put his finger on my lips, silencing me as Remus tried to pull his friend away. “No, listen up, missy. I understand your parents suck at being married, mine do too, but that’s no reason to keep rejecting my poor best friend here when you’re obviously in love with him. You will go out with him, and you will have a good time. Understood?” He demanded and I nodded, flashing Remus a small smile.

I say, "Can you believe it?"

As we're lying on the couch

The moment, I can see it

Yes, yes, I can see it now

“I’m so glad you said yes.” Remus said softly, placing a gentle kiss on the top of my head.

I giggled quietly, “Yes, I am too, Rem.” I sighed happily as the fire quietly crackled, shaking my head slightly at the whole reason we were officially together. Damn Sirius.

Do you remember we were sitting there by the water?

You put your arm around me for the first time

My laughter echoed throughout the courtyard as I ran from Remus as quickly as I could. My legs burned and they involuntarily slowed, allowing Remus to catch up to me and wrap his arms around me in a big hug, swinging us side to side as we both laughed loudly.

You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter

You are the best thing that's ever been mine

I slapped my hand over my mouth, trying to quiet my breathing as we hid from the caretaker. I looked at Remus with wide eyes and he just grinned at me, proud he finally got me to break a rule and go out past curfew. I shook my head, thankful my hand was covering the small smile gracing my lips.

Flash forward, and we're taking on the world together

And there's a drawer of my things at your place

“I’m home!” Remus called out loudly and I snorted, walking out of the kitchen and leaning against the doorframe with my arms crossed.

“Just move in already.” I suggested and he smiled and shook his head.

“Sure.” He agreed and my eyes widened, my arms dropped to my sides as my back straightened out.

“Really?” He nodded with a smile and I laughed happily, throwing my arms around him in a big hug. “Finally.”

You learn my secrets, and you figure out why I'm guarded

You say we'll never make my parents' mistakes

“We are not your parents, Y/n.” Remus said, trying to grab ahold of my hand but I pulled away, tears stinging my eyes.

“You’re not, Rem, you obviously aren’t. But what if I am?” I whispered, a tear falling down my cheek.

He wiped the tear away and let his hand rest on my face, “What if you aren’t?” He challenged, kissing my forehead softly.

But we got bills to pay

We got nothing figured out

“No, only two. If we have three, one will feel left out.” I said and Remus shook his head.

“No, everything happens in trios. They’re much better than duos.”

\ “I don’t care. Two is better anyway, easier to take care of.”

“But thre-”

I glared at the man in front of me, “I don’t care. Two cats, that’s it.”

When it was hard to take

Yes, yes, this is what I thought about

“You got three, didn’t you?” I asked as I stood at the front door, already hearing the loud meowing from inside.

Remus smiled sheepishly and shrugged, “Perhaps.”

Do you remember we were sitting there by the water?

You put your arm around me for the first time

My hand flew to my mouth as waves crashed against the shore.

Remus knelt in front of me, a nervous smile on his face as James, Sirius, Lily, and the newest member of our family, Harry, stood around us. Sirius held tightly onto the big camera as he chanted yes.

“Remus- yes, oh my, yes!” I exclaimed, not giving him time to stand up and instead kneeled down to kiss him, forgetting about the ring as his back hit the sand, our laughter following as a loud click and flash filled our senses.

You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter

You are the best thing that's ever been mine

“Remember, no cake in my face.” I warned Remus as we were about to cut our wedding cake.

He smiled, “Of course.”

I winked to Sirius, who once again had a camera, and held in my laughs as the knife sunk into the cake. Instead of waiting for the piece to be fully cut, I grabbed a chunk of cake from the opposite side - the camera clicked and flashed - and smashed it into Remus’ face. He froze before wiping the cake from his eyes and looking at me with a familiar glint in his eyes.

“I’m gonna get you.”

Do you remember all the city lights on the water?

You saw me start to believe for the first time

The lights of the eiffel tower shined brightly onto the water as I watched with awe in my eyes. Remus looked at me fondly, love coursing through his veins as he gazed at his wife.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered and I looked at him, a blush spilling over my cheeks. Truthfully, he was the beautiful one. The way the lights highlighted his face and sparkled in his honey brown eyes entranced me as I smiled.

“You’re beautiful, as well.” 

You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter

You are the best thing that's ever been mine

Oh-oh, oh

Remus narrowed his eyes at the girl Sirius brought to Christmas dinner. Usually, it didn’t matter to him what anyone was wearing, as long as they liked it it was fine. But wearing something that's easily comparable to what a stripper would wear to a dinner where you were informed about children being present, was a little far.

“Remus.” I gently grabbed his hand. “I know you don’t like her, I don’t either, but please be civil.”

“What if we prank her?” He whispered back.

I snorted, but my smile dropped as I realized he was being serious, “No, what?”

He nodded, “Please?”

I hesitated before sighing, “Fine. Let’s do it.”

I quietly walked back from the bathroom and froze as I saw the prank had worked. Sirius’ new girl was screeching loudly as her skin turned green and warts popped up randomly. I looked Remus in the eye as he held in his laughter. I winked at him and he smiled proudly, we did it. The best part, by far, was the loud giggling of baby Harry as he watched the witch begin to cry angrily. I picked up the boy and laughed with him, gently tickling his sides only making his laughs harder.

And I remember that fight, 2:30 a.m

As everything was slipping right out of our hands

“No, goddamnit, Y/n, it’s my life!” Remus yelled and I shook my head.

“No, Remus, it’s our life! It became our life when you married me!” I yelled back louder, briefly glancing at the clock and internally wincing. 2:26 AM the clock read. 

“I want to be a teacher, what’s so bad about that?” 

I threw my hands up, “Do you listen to me, Remus? I’ve told you over and over it’s fucking Hogwarts! I love that place but these past few years it’s gotten dangerous! I won’t let you teach there.” I explained as tears stung at my eyes.

“I don’t care! You don’t get an opinion on this!”

I ran out crying, and you followed me out into the street

I pushed the door open roughly and ran to the street, the rain beating down on me as I sobbed and fell to my knees. The water collected on the rough cement soaked my pajama pants, only making me cry harder at the small inconvenience. 

Braced myself for the goodbye

'Cause that's all I've ever known

The door slammed open again and I shut my eyes tightly, preparing myself for the inevitable. My body shook, from the cold or the crying, I really didn't know. Probably both. I waited for him to ask for the rings back and leave me there on my own.

I opened my eyes and watched Remus’ figure get closer as I struggled to take the rings off.

“What are you doing?” He asked, fear in his voice.

“I already know you want them back.”

Then you took me by surprise

You said, "I'll never leave you alone"

To my surprise, he wrapped his arms around me tightly, swaying side to side slightly like he always did.

“Never.” He whispered.

You said, "I remember how we felt, sitting by the water

And every time I look at you, it's like the first time

“Y/n?” He asked above the rain.

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember when we were running around the courtyard because you were being a grumpy pants and wouldn’t hug me?”

I nodded and smiled fondly at the memory. “Yeah, and then you caught me by the lake and we almost fell in.” He pulled away and looked at me fondly.

I fell in love with a careless man's careful daughter

She is the best thing that's ever been mine"

“That’s the moment I knew I was gonna marry you one day. That’s when I knew I loved you and never wanted to be away from you.”

I looked at him with a small smile, “Really?”

He nodded, “I swear on my beautiful wife.”

Hold on and make it last

Hold on, never turn back

I sat quietly on the train, reading my book as nostalgia filled my body. Remus sat next to me, his coat draped over his eyes so he could rest. I glanced at him and sighed, shaking my head and wondering how he convinced me to not only let him teach, but also have me co-teach Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid.

“This is the only open compartment.” A voice said and I looked up from my book. My breath left my body as I saw a familiar boy walk through the compartment door, a boy and a girl following after him. 

The boy looked at me with a small smile. “I’m sorry. Is it alright if we sit in here? Everywhere else is full.” 

I nodded with a smile, “Of course.” He glanced at Remus’ sleeping figure and sat across from me.

“My names Harry Potter, and this is Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. Are you a new professor?” Harry asked and my heart clenched.

“Yes, I am. Professor L/n, pleasure to meet you three, I’ll be co-teaching with Hagrid, I’m sure you know him. This lump next to me is my husband, also a new professor. Professor Lupin, unfortunately he’s exhausted so he’s simply napping.”

Harry nodded in understanding, “Is he our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?”

“Yes, he is.”

(Hold on) you made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter

(Hold on) you are the best thing that's ever been mine

“Well, well, well.” I said, leaning against the doorframe as I watched Remus and Sirius hug. Sirius pulled away and looked at me with a smirk. “If it isn’t Sirius Black, back from Azkaban.”

“I’m innocent, Y/n/n. I swea-”

I cut him off with a big hug, winking at Remus who smiled at me gratefully. “I know you are, Sirius. I know.”

Do you believe it?

We're gonna make it now

“If we di-”

“We won’t.” Remus persisted.

“Rem. If we die, just know how much I love you, alright? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m so grateful to have you as my husband and my best friend.”

Remus sighed and nodded, “I love you too. But we won’t die, my love. We’ve got someone to live for.” I smiled as we both looked to our newborn son who gurgled quietly in his sleep.

“Yes, we have someone to live for.”

And I can see it (yeah, yeah)

I watched in horror as the group of Death Eater’s pointed their wands together. I grabbed Remus’ hand tightly as they muttered a powerful spell together, sending Remus and I flying back before the world went dark and Sirius’ voice filled my eyes.

“Finally.” He said.

“We’ve been waiting forever for you two to die.” A new voice said. James?

“You two gits, be quiet.” Lily. “Welcome home.”

I can see it now

taglist (if you want to be added just comment :));

@1lellykins @poetrypirate @loving-and-dreaming

[spiders-hth-is-an-outlier]

Six Short Stories About Magic is genuinely such a weird episode. I like that it takes some big swings aesthetically -- unfortunately somewhat rare on this show. I think it does a good job of recontextualizing the Library away from generic ominous villains and into the site of more nuanced conversations about power and control, and I find the Zelda and Harriet relationship a genuinely emotionally effective way to deliver those themes. It's not a bad episode by any means! It's just... weird.

Mostly the Penny storyline is weird -- I don't fully understand what they're going for with the whole Underworld in chaos thing; maybe they wanted the Underworld, like the Library, to become a significant part of the fictional world, but it never really does. It feels very off to make Penny's little mini-arc about -- pretending to care at least a little bit about Benedict, or at least to briefly experience pity for him. It's not terribly moving, particularly in juxtaposition to the last time we saw Benedict, when he really did forge a connection with someone who didn't have to be strong-armed into giving a shit about his pain: Quentin. Sylvia obviously doesn't matter even slightly. And the whole Cassandra business was weird enough, but having her played by Olivia for as far as I can tell genuinely no reason is just next-level bizarre.

The episode cares a lot about what Poppy thinks about things, which may be part of why it feels so wonky, knowing as I now do that the show is about to change its mind completely and 100% cease to care about Poppy. I do think she's an interesting foil for Quentin, at least in this episode! Having her be the voice of a robust kind of selfishness, not cruel but keen above all to protect herself and survive, plays interestingly in their conversations against Quentin's instincts toward martyrdom, his struggle to keep up the will to fight, his persistent sense that he's the Wrong Guy, the perpetual weak link in the quest. Quentin is a person who's always -- quite literally from the jump in this show! -- on the verge of sinking under the weight of his pessimism, and on paper I like giving him someone like Poppy to bounce off of, a chipper opportunist who's never in her life experienced a lack of will to live and thrive. I don't know why they decided not to keep her on as a significant character the way it seemed like this episode was building her into -- if they just couldn't afford Felicia, or if they got cold feet about dealing with the ramifications of a love triangle, or if the relative lack of acting chemistry between her and Jason ultimately sunk the idea. I don't think Poppy ever quite works, but she's at least as charismatic as Josh is and she makes vastly more sense as part of the narrative than Fen ever does, and those guys stayed around forever.

I don't know. I think it's an episode that obviously wants to be something, and it's far more visually interesting than the show usually is. It does advance the overall story well, and I genuinely like the reveal of Harriet and Zelda's whole deal. I just don't think it ever quite gets its feet completely under it.

[evanesdust]

perfect slice of life

🎄🎅 merry christmas, @sterekbros 💗

written for- @sterekfests prompt: "Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays." @sterekbingo square: smiling at each other from across the room

Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Derek Hale, Original Child Character(s), Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: POV Derek Hale, Canon Compliant, Future Fic, Established Relationship, Married Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Slice of Life, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Stiles Stilinski is a Nice Thing, Parenthood, Family, Fluff

Summary:

…the one where Derek savored one of the spontaneous, joyful moments that now defined his life.

"Rawr!" Derek yelled, jumping out from behind the bed. Livvie squealed with laughter, racing out of the room and down the hall. The lopsided pigtails he'd given her after lunch bounced with each step. He loved how her tiny feet pattered against the floor, a staccato rhythm that filled the house with life. It was something he'd never dreamed he could have—not with the shit show of his life.

Now, he had a family again. A husband and daughter who had completely reshaped his world. Each peal of Livvie's laughter was like a song to his ears. He chased after her as she headed toward the living room, a grin plastered on his face. Monster chase was one of her favorite games, and witnessing her unadulterated happiness infected him with the same unbridled joy.

Derek chased after her, making exaggerated monster noises, and Livvie shrieked, her laughter echoing off the walls as they darted around the corner.

"Careful of the Christmas tr—"

He stopped dead in his tracks, choking back a snort at the sight that greeted them.

Stiles stood in the entryway, arms crossed and an amused yet (feigned) stern expression on his face.

"And just what is going on here? I'm pretty sure we're not supposed to be running in the house," Stiles said, though the twinkle in his eyes betrayed his attempt at seriousness.

"We're not running," Derek said with mock innocence. "We're...speed walking. Yeah, that's it. Speed walking."

Livvie clapped her hands over her mouth, trying not to laugh at his blatant lie.

Stiles raised a brow, clearly not convinced. But Derek noted the way his lips twitched and knew he was struggling to maintain his composure. "Uh-huh, and I'm the Queen of England."

"We were just playing, Daddy," Livvie said, her voice muffled by her hands. Derek nodded in agreement, trying to look repentant, but failed as Stiles shook his head, unable to keep the act up any longer. A warm, affectionate smile spread across his face as he opened his arms and took a knee.

Livvie ran over, launching herself into his embrace. She hugged him tightly, laughter finally breaking free from her lips. Stiles ruffled her hair and kissed the top of her head before he stood, lifting her up into the air. Derek watched on, a broad grin etched across his face. The room was filled with their love, so palpable it seemed to breathe life into the very walls, and at that moment, everything was perfect.

"I see daddy did your hair," Stiles said with a chuckle as he pretended to examine her uneven pigtails. He glanced at Derek, and they smiled at each other from across the room.

Of course, Stiles would point out the slightly uneven pigtails. They were a telltale sign of Derek's handiwork, but Derek found them kind of endearing in their imperfection. He worked hard on them, watching a few YouTube videos. Plus, it was a small reminder of the precious moments he cherished, these simple things that people often took for granted.

Livvie giggled, proudly nodding her head, making her pigtails swing even more. "Yeah! He gave me piggy tails!"

It was crazy how fast she'd grown up. Gone was their tiny infant, replaced by a vibrant little girl with an infectious laugh and boundless energy, just like her father. A whirlwind of joy, constantly learning, growing, and surprising them every day. Derek remembered the days when she could barely crawl. When she was a slobbery baby who'd thought pocket change was an acceptable snack.

(It happened once, and Derek had immediately fished the quarter out of her mouth.)

Derek chuckled as he walked over, joining in on the family hug. He glanced at Stiles with a look of pure gratitude, reflecting on the simple joys of their domestic life. Together, they had built a safe haven of laughter and love, a contrast to the chaos of the outside world. Not that much happened in Beacon Hills anymore—something he was eternally grateful for.

"How was work?" he asked, nuzzling against Stiles's cheek, taking in the familiar scent that always seemed to calm his nerves. From the moment he'd scented Stiles that day all those years ago, trespassing on Hale territory, he knew that he'd found something special. A constant in a world that was always shifting beneath his feet.

Stiles sighed, setting Livvie down gently before answering. His job as an FBI agent was demanding, and Derek always felt a surge of relief when Stiles walked through the door safe and sound.

"It was the usual madness, but thinking of coming home to you guys always gets me through it." Stiles smiled as he glanced at Livvie, who was now attempting to balance on one foot, her concentration etched comically on her face. He wrapped an arm around Derek's waist, giving him a gentle squeeze. "Especially when I get to come back to monster chases and piggy tails."

Livvie squealed, losing her balance and falling over with a dramatic flop onto a nearby cushion that had been tossed haphazardly on the floor after building forts earlier. Yes, the living room was a bit of a mess, but Derek would clean it up later. He'd much rather spend these precious moments with his family than worry about a few things out of place.

"Can we play monster chase again?" Livvie asked, looking up at her fathers, her wide eyes sparkling with mischief.

Derek and Stiles exchanged a glance, an unspoken agreement passing between them. It was impossible to resist her playful plea—something she had mastered, much to their simultaneous joy and chagrin.

"Only if we take it outside this time," Stiles said, letting go of Derek and walking toward the kitchen, where he tossed his keys and wallet onto the counter. He picked up the mail, flipping through it mostly out of habit. "I think the backyard is far more suited for wild beasts and their crazy adventures. Especially since it's unseasonably warm right now. Seriously, it's Christmas, what the hell."

With Stiles suitably distracted, Derek was able to sneak up behind him and scoop him up, spinning him around as Livvie clapped and cheered. Stiles laughed, the sort of carefree and infectious sound that made Derek's heart swell every time. That made him feel like the luckiest man in the world to have this, to have them.

"To the backyard!" Livvie shouted, already halfway to the backdoor in her excitement. She didn't wait for them, her small legs carrying her as fast as they could go.

Stiles looked at Derek with mock exasperation. "You can put me down now."

"As you wish, but—" Derek replied, gently placing Stiles back on the ground with a soft chuckle. He gave Stiles a slow smile, leaning in for a quick but sweet kiss. "You have five seconds before the big bad wolf comes after you, too."

"No. No, Derek," Stiles said, pointing a finger at him. His eyes were narrowed in a mock glare despite the playful challenge in his eyes. "Don't even think about it."

And then he was dashing out of the kitchen, too, his laughter echoing through the house.

Derek counted down loudly, "Five, four, three, two, one..." before taking off after him.

Livvie's laughter rose above everything, a beacon guiding him toward love, family, and the pure, unfettered joy of being together—something he would always cherish. It filled him with a sense of completeness. Moments like this were what Derek would treasure forever. They were fun and utterly spontaneous and reminded him what life was all about. That he wasn't just living day to day anymore; he had a family and was creating memories that would last a lifetime.

The sun cast long shadows across the lawn as Stiles chased Livvie around, pretending to be a tickle monster, while Derek watched, content in knowing that this—

This was a perfect slice of life.

[kezzzx]

3, 21, and/or 23! ☺️☺️☺️

Hello friend, thank you for playing! Hope you enjoy <3

3. hiding face in neck 21. kissing the other’s brow 23. carrying the other one in their arms

They couldn’t have asked for a better evening, really. Clear and balmy, just the hint of a cool breeze now that it’s well and truly nighttime, the sound of insects buzzing around largely drowned out by their still in full swing out in the garden. 

It’s their engagement party - a real one, this time, not some stuffy mercher party where they can barely hold hands without garnering a few raised eyebrows. This one has the people they care most about in the world. Marya, of course, and Colm, who had insisted on being there despite the fact that it was peak jurda harvesting season on the farm (“I’ll hire someone to take care of it. It’s not every day your son gets engaged,” he’d written in his last letter, and Jesper had teared up a bit when he’d read it). Kaz is here, and Inej, accompanied by her crew - Mal, Tolya, Tamar and her girlfriend Nadia, Nina and Matthias too, freshly returned from an expedition to Fjerda. Even Kuwei had managed to convince Inej to let him come. There’s Karl and Mikhail, Wylan’s friends on the merchant council, looking somewhat intimidated to be in the company of so many criminals and miscreants, but taking it all in their stride nonetheless. 

Jesper is wine-drunk and happy, soaking in the company of his loved ones all in one place. He laughs at Tolya’s tales of their latest escapades and his soft sighs of fond annoyance at Tamar's interruptions.

Wylan had vanished from his side a while ago, caught in conversation with Matthias and Karl. Jesper can see him now, illuminated by the light spilling out from the conservatory, his fluffy hair even wilder than usual from the humidity and curling at his neck. He’s the most beautiful thing Jesper has ever seen and is definitely swaying on his feet. He wonders how much he’s had to drink. 

Excusing himself from his conversation with Tolya, he makes a beeline for his fiancé, unable to stop the smile that spreads across his lips at the thought. He steps in close and slips an arm around his waist. 

“Jes!” Wylan greets him brightly, leaning into Jesper's side a little too heavily. 

“Hello, love,” Jesper says, pressing a kiss to his slightly sweaty brow. With a nod to Wylan’s empty wine glass, he asks, “How much have you had?” 

“I dunno, I lost count.” Wylan grins up at him, his eyes glassy. “You’re so pretty.” 

“Thank you, darling,” Jesper says with a laugh. “You have definitely had enough. Bedtime, I think.”

Wylan blinks up at him from under his lashes, the epitome of coy. “Is bedtime code for sex? Because I'm on board with that."  

Jesper pretends not to hear Karl’s snort of laughter. 

“For once it is not, you absolute menace,” he says, entirely too fond. “Come on.”

The squeak Wylan lets out when Jesper scoops him up into his arms is somewhat undignified, and he whines Jesper’s name, pressing his face into Jesper’s neck to hide his pretty, flushed cheeks. 

Jesper only chuckles to himself as he carries his beautiful lightweight of a fiancé bridal style into the house, bidding their friends and family goodnight on the way.

Wylan falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow, just like Jesper knew he would.