#romance is not the be all end all of relationships and i am sick of pretending it is!

[horsemage]

I think we should bring back basic etiquette lessons such as shutting the fuck up when you’re watching a movie in a group that is not exclusively your friend group 🙂

[musical-chick-13]

Thoughts on toxic yuri?

One of my very favorite storytelling concepts, I love it when women make each other worse. <3

I do think it's important, for me anyway, to note the difference between a dynamic that's toxic in one direction versus something that is mutually toxic. The first one doesn't really interest me a whole lot, usually because it means one character suffers constantly without being allowed to do anything else--at the very least, it will come across as the more ""normal"" character not really being that into the relationship in question. I need BOTH parties to be unhinged.

The important thing for any fictional relationship (though we're specifying toxic yuri here, obviously) is that it's interesting. If there is no limit to what the women can do within a dynamic, then there are an infinite number of ways for that dynamic to go. And while you can learn a lot about a character through examining their values and positive qualities, you can learn just as much (if not more) by considering their flaws. And those flaws really come out in the case of toxic yuri; characters get to show the uglier parts of themselves in this context, which I am always a fan of. A fraught, complex relationship, when written well, can be a really great way to psychologically explore the characters: what inspires them to act this way? why do they think this behavior is acceptable? if they don't think it's acceptable, why do they keep doing it? what do they think about the concept of love as a whole? how far would they go for intimacy or to be understood? how do they view other people in general? and probably most importantly, what led to them developing the beliefs underlying their actions in the first place?

From a more "psychologically, why do people enjoy this" standpoint, mutual toxicity often goes hand in hand with extreme obsession, extreme jealousy, and a willingness to forgive a whole lot of horrible shit. Which, yeah, in real life you don't want to be in a relationship like that. But I think there's a lot of emotional resonance in exploring those feelings. The idea that someone will never leave you. That they think so intensely about you specifically that they'll break anything and anyone to stay with you. That even if you're the worst version of yourself, someone will still want you because that's still you. Someone knows exactly how to fuck you up because they genuinely understand you. Things in fiction that we would never want in real life can be incredibly interesting or even cathartic to witness from a distance. I think we all feel things that scare us sometimes (or even simply feel an innocuous emotion so intensely that it scares us), and looking at unpleasant feelings within fiction can help identify, parse out, process, and successfully cope with those feelings. And I think, at the end of it all, a lot of people want to matter to someone, in some way. It makes sense that some creators would take that concept-of meaning a great deal to another person, of affecting them deeply-to its absolute extreme through writing.

(And also, consider. That I am very gay. And that horrible women are very attractive.)

[travelling-on-the-octopath]

media with arguably queerplatonic relationships is hands-down my favourite thing because depending on my mood i can be like "no they're not romantic in the typical sense but they're the most important people to each other" or i can be like "these two are so fucking in love it makes me sick." and i hate that that media is so often labelled as queerbaiting, because it's not.

i will say though that i love relationships that are romantic in the strictest sense of the word, in that it's big feelings and deep devotion that cannot be contained and must in big and small ways be expressed constantly.

[obaex]

four - hockey player!ex!rafe cameron (pt. 1)

summary: rafe knows he's screwed up, but when he offers you a way to make amends, you can't resist. the catch? he'll have to do the impossible.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: rafe is slightly toxic in this ngl! i am in love with this. hockey romance is very near and dear to me (this is v loosely based on a real life experience). *mwah*

You saw your phone light up out of the corner of your eye and lowered your mascara wand as you leaned over to glance at the screen and let out a shaky sigh.

A part of you knew the right thing to do by now was to block his number. You hadn't responded to a single message he'd sent for over two weeks. And the messages had been relentless.

I'm thinking about you in the afternoons.

Hi beautiful in the mornings.

I'm sorry.

You're still my girl.

And on and on, escalating to paragraphs at night, as he typed out things he'd never once said out loud to you before; about how he felt the first time he met you, the things his teammates said, about how Wheezie was asking about you and Sarah spent an hour on the phone lecturing him, about how he'd do anything to get you back.

Reading his messages was like drinking a honied poison that went down sweet, warming every inch of you, only to make you sick in the end. But you couldn't stop. You couldn't block him. And even though you'd made him think you were ignoring him, you craved every message, every word he said something you had ached to hear when he had the chance.

Now it was two hours before the biggest game of the season, arguably one of the biggest of his career. He should be focusing on his pregame routine, on his way to the rink, if he wasn't there already and instead here he was texting you. You were the one on his mind and you drank that poison down, allowing yourself to feel special, even if the text had made no sense to you.

How many?

How many what?

His last message before that was from a couple of hours ago, before his pregame nap, the one you often took together as he had reminded you, in excruciating detail.

Your fingers twitched with the urge to reply. You knew he was baiting you into responding, but you swallowed down the urge and took a deep breath to still your beating heart and went back to applying your makeup, dragging up the same memory you did every time you were tempted by him.

It was just after 2AM, and you were sitting in your car that you had driven to his apartment, unable to sleep, desperate to talk to him. He lounged in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead at the windshield, tracking the rain that was falling steadily.

"Can you please talk to me?" you whispered, trying so hard not to come across as needy or desperate.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, shrugging, avoiding your eye contact.

"I don't know, just tell me what's going on with you? You barely talk to me anymore, you won't even look at me. Did I do something?"

He shrugged again and you felt physically sick. Maybe it was because you couldn't remember the last thing you'd eaten, the last time you'd slept more than a few fitful hours, all consumed with the feeling that your five-year relationship was running off the rails. Rumors were flying that there was another girl... or girls... And when you had asked him about it, he brushed it off, not strongly enough to give you even an ounce of comfort. You were falling apart. And he was letting it happen. He was forcing you to end this, too cowardly to do it himself.

"Do you even want to be with me anymore?" you whispered, barely audible over the pounding rain, like maybe if he didn't hear you, he couldn't answer.

He rubbed his hand over his face and sighed loudly, frustrated, like you were just so annoying to him, and you wished you could suck your words back into your mouth.

"I have practice in like four hours, I can't be doing this with you right now" he said, aptly avoiding the conversation again.

Your chin was wobbling and you bit back everything you wanted to say, not wanting to be needy, or nagging, hoping if you were on your very best behavior he would have a change of heart, change his mind.

You pursed your lips and nodded, averting your gaze to look out at the rain and gathering the strength you needed to say the words that felt like nails in your mouth.

"I can't do this anymore" you whimpered, as tears fell that matched the droplets on your windshield. "I can't keep giving 100% and getting nothing in return. I'm sitting here spilling my heart out to you and you won't even look at me. After everything we've been through... You won't even deny that you hooked up with her."

Silence.

You could see him grimace, the tic in his jaw as he pushed his tongue into his cheek. You wanted to grab the front of his sweatshirt, shake him and scream 'SAY SOMETHING!'. But you didn't. And his silence persisted a moment longer.

"So that's it then?" he said finally, like you had any other choice.

You wiped futilely at the tears that were now pouring down your face, even as you tried to hold them back, sniffling with a shaky breath to avoid outright sobbing in front of him.

He opened the car door, got out, slamming it forcefully behind him without so much as a glance your way and you broke down. You didn't make it one block before you had to pull over. You couldn't see, you couldn't breath, and you couldn't hold your hands steady on the wheel you were shaking so badly. You threw your car in park, lay your head on the steering wheel and cried.

Two days passed before the first text came in.

"I'm sorry" is all it said.

You could see the bubbles at the bottom of the screen, indicating that he was still typing before more messages appeared.

At this point you were grasping your phone with both hands, like a lifeline, eyes glued to the screen, heart hammering so hard in your chest you felt nauseous and your hands were shaking. There was a chance, a glimmer, a hope and you were clinging to it.

Your fingers hovered over your phone, ready to forgive him, to forget, to run right back to the way things had been, to have him looking for you at the end of every game, for stolen kisses in the parking lot at the arena, to whispered I love yous as you fell asleep in his arms. And then more messages came flooding in.

More messages were coming now but you couldn't read any further. Your heart was battering around your ribcage like a pinball machine with the whiplash of information: your boyfriend of five years had been actively texting another girl... because she was easygoing, and fun to talk to and didn't stress him out… like you did.

Your tears were back like no time had passed from the night you broke up, heavy sobs coming from your mouth at how stupid you felt, at all the rumors being true. And did you really believe that nothing more had happened between them? He was Rafe fucking Cameron of the Carolina Eagles.

Your eyes skimmed over the second half of his message, about how you were it for him, about how much he loved you, how he wanted to marry you and for you to have his babies?? The ache of wanting that so desperately to be true and knowing it couldn't be was too much for you as you turned and cried into your pillow.

You recalled all of those messages now as a new one came in. You shoved your finger into the bruise on your heart, forcing yourself to feel that pain again, to imagine him laying in bed, in the bed you had slept in with him, while he texted another girl, maybe even texted both of you at the same time, and you refocused on your makeup.

You had faithfully followed the Eagles for five years, his teammates were some of your best friends, like brothers to you. Despite everything that had happened with Rafe, you weren't going to miss their game tonight. Rafe's best friend and linemate Nick had texted you earlier in the week to let you know he had a ticket for you.

Fine. It was hard to say no to that. Everyone you knew would be there anyway and you didn't need Rafe thinking he had power over you if you weren't there. So, you were going. And you decided if you were going to go you were going to look stunning, and as you put the finishing touches on your makeup, there was no doubt in your mind that you were.

You had spent more time on your hair and makeup than potentially every other game that season combined. You may have gotten a little comfy towards the end, wearing Rafe's team-issued sweatshirt with his name and number on it and a pair of leggings. He claimed that he loved you in that, but that wouldn't cut it tonight. You wore skintight jeans that accentuated every perfect curve of your body, heeled booties and a tight-fitting long sleeve shirt. Your hair was immaculate and your makeup was admittedly a little extra for an AHL game, but effortless nonetheless as it amplified your natural beauty. The pain in your heart had been ebbing its way into anger: you were going to make him regret every single thing he'd done, the thought nagging at you as your phone lit up again.

You huffed. You had been strong for weeks, and now he was throwing that at you?

Your perfectly manicured fingers hovered over your phone as you nibbled your glossed bottom lip, and finally relented.

What the hell? you thought, confused.

Feeling pretty good about your level of engagement, you sent another question mark before his response came in.

You scoffed before laughing out loud. He was truly unbelievable. You weren't on some sort of barter system here. This wasn't a deal you had ever discussed nor agreed to. This isn't how the world worked, this isn't how relationships worked. It was stupid. So so stupid. And Rafe wasn't the team's lead goal scorer anyway. Sure he was good for a flashy goal every few games, maybe two, but this was the semi-finals of the league championship, everything was on the line here, it was not the time to be playing games...

...But damn if you didn't love the semblance of power he'd given you over the situation, and you desperately wanted to fuck with him.

Four goals in one game. Essentially impossible. A joke. Sidney Crosby, arguably the best player in the NHL at the moment hadn't even achieved that. But not a second passed before his reply came through, simple, straightforward, no arguing or complaining:

"Done"

And then:

"I love you!"

"I'll be looking for you 😍"

You rolled your eyes, throwing your phone down on your bed, annoyed at yourself for even answering him.

And yet you couldn't fight the smallest bit of excitement you felt.

It was impossible. It was never going to happen, but Rafe Cameron was going to try to win you back.

(part two)

taglist: @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @moremaybank, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller, @ihe4rttwd, @diary-of-jj, @crlsummer, @jjsbank444

[makeitmingi]

Be Your Solace

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comfort, Slight Angst

Pairing: San x Reader (y/n)

Characters: UniversityStudent Girlfriend!Reader, UniversityStudent Boyfriend!San

Summary: Since your relationship was still relatively new, you were afraid of letting San meeting your family. You didn't want them to chase him away. But your boyfriend can't stand to see you stressed, anxious and exhausted from your family. So he tries to help you and be your solace.

Warning(s): Reader has anxiety and is mentally anxious, bad mental health. Depictions of toxic family dynamic and family members. There may be triggering topics to certain readers. Please read at your own discretion.

[A/N: Happy belated birthday Choi San!!!!!! This is my 'self-indulgent' fic. Some parts you may find rather detailed because it is a close depiction to my own personal experiences with extended family. And how I am going through it right now. So I wrote this to vent, rant and comfort myself.]

Word count: 7.7K

'At the end of the day, family will always be family. And family will always comes first.'

That's what you've been told your whole life. No matter what happens between family members, you'll always be family, you'll always share blood bonds. And blood is thicker than water... right? The expectation that family will always come first was seared into your brain.

"(y/n)? Did you hear what I said?" Your boyfriend's voice pulled you out of your mind's despair.

"Huh? No, sorry, Sannie. What did you say?" You frowned at yourself, not even realising that you were spacing out. You blinked and let out a soft sigh, moving to meet his eyes.

"What's wrong? You didn't even react when I called you 'jagiya'." San joked but his eyes filled with concern and worry.

The reason you didn't like the pet name 'jagiya' because that was what San and his best friend, Wooyoung, called each other.

Instead he calls you, 'baby', 'love' or his favourite, 'baby love'. To him, that was the most unique and it combined his two other petnames for you. And that made it special to both you and San.

"I'm fine. Just a little distracted." You forced a smile. One of San's hand reached out to cup your cheek, the other wrapped around your waist to pull you closer to him.

"You're not fine. Tell me what's bothering my baby?" He tilted his head with a small pout.

"It's just my family... You know how it is... My cousin's coming back to visit and as usual, the whole family is rushing to accomodate her as if she's the queen. She's not even here yet and I'm already so bothered by it." You rubbed your temples.

"This is the cousin that's the favourite of your oldest aunt, right?" He clarified. San hasn't met your extended family yet so he only knows them by your stories and rants about them.

"Yes. And since my aunt is the head of the family, we kind of have to do her bidding. I'd rather not face her wrath." You said.

"I understand." San nodded.

"And she knows I'm off school now so I'll probably be roped into doing more of whatever she has planned. She even made an excel sheet schedule." You groaned.

"Looks like all my weekends are gone." You said, looking at the schedule. San looked over to read through it.

"That's... a lot of things to do..." San frowned. Even he felt exhausted looking at that.

"I know!" You groaned, your head falling onto his shoulder. And what's worse is that you won't be able to see San as much since so much of your time would be taken up for family. San turned his body on the couch so he could face you and hug you properly. You buried your head into his chest.

"I shouldn't be complaining, right? I should be grateful for all these extravagant meals and outings she drags me to. But why do I feel such an exhaustion and dread?" You gulped.

"Everyone has a social battery, baby love. And it is very exhausting. I remember the last time she came back, you were sick after she left."

"Yeah because she has the flu and still came in close proximity to us." You mumbled bitterly.

"Would it help if I was there?" He asked carefully, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb as you tucked your face into the crook of his neck.

The last thing San wanted to do was to add to your stress or make you feel pressured into inviting him for these.

"Thanks, San. But I like our relationship so I don't want to risk scaring you away yet." You chuckled.

"Baby, you already have me and my love for you is greater than what your family can do to me. If I have to accept your family to be with you, so be it." He laughed and pulled away slightly to kiss the crown of your head.

But from your answer, San knew not to push it or insist that you let him come with you. He didn't want to make things difficult for you. You knew your family and were old enough to judge the situation.

"Wait, it's not that I'm embarrased by you or anything, okay? That side of my family is just judgemental and not welcoming-"

"Woah, woah, woah. Breathe, baby love. It's okay. Hey." He cupped your cheeks in his hands to ground you.

"Sorry..." You mumbled.

"Mmm-mmm, you have nothing to apologise for. Thank you for wanting to protect me." San pressed his forehead against yours. You gave him a small smile.

"I really wish I could have you with me. But there's this whole thing they have about insiders vs outsiders." You sighed.

"Before we continue, let's move to the room. This couch is too small to cuddle." Without saying anything else, San lifted you up and brought you to his room. As he climbed over you, he hovered over you for a few seconds to give you a kiss before landing his body beside yours.

"Here." He put Shiber in your arms for you to hug while he wrapped his arms around you to hug you.

"I'm sorry I'll be more absent these 3 weeks." You sighed, inhaling Shiber's scent. He smelled just like San, which comforted you.

"Don't worry about that now, baby. I'll miss you dearly but that's not for you to worry about. I'm not angry nor do I blame you." He assured pulling you closer to him.

"But I am angry. I need my San time." You whined. San laughed and cupped your cheek to give you a peck.

"You can come over any day, any time you need, hmm? Or if you want me to go over, let me know." He rubbed your back.

"Thank you." You murmured. San wished he could do more, he hated seeing your anxiety peak like this and how stressed out you were. The least he could do was be here for you when you need him.

When San hugged you like this, you felt so safe and protected from the world. Your anxiety was something you were transparent about right from the start. But San never grew annoyed with it, he was always there, patient and understanding.

It's funny because now you wonder how you lived without him all these years because you've definitely grown dependent on him.

"Take a nap, hmm? Rest your mind." He said, gently massaging the back of your neck to help you relieve the tension there. You melted in his touch.

When San woke up from the nap, you were not in bed with him. He heard you talking outside.

"So you've seen the schedule. Just help me book my hair and nail appointments where there's a free slot. No mornings though."

"Sure... I'll call and check. Then update the schedule." You said, nodding to the phone that you propped up using your mug so you wouldn't have to hold it.

"And make a booking at the Chinese restaurant for Sunday brunch too. Since you're usually the one who makes it."

"Okay, hang on for a bit." You blanked the camera and turned off the mic, waving San over. You both still heard your cousin rambling about something on the other end. San shuffled over to you, leaning down to give you a kiss. You giggled and ran your hands through his hair, combing out his bed hair.

"Sorry I left the bed. She called and I didn't want to wake you up with the talking." You sighed.

"It's okay. But you owe me." He smiled with a playful glint in his eyes. You laughed and nodded, giving him a final kiss before he moved away. You turned the camera and mic on again.

"What happened? Why did you have to turn off the camera and mic when we were talking half way? Why are you acting so secretive?"

"What? I'm not secretive." You frowned.

"It's just a boyfriend. You're at your boyfriend's place, aren't you? It's not that big a deal, (y/n). You don't have to act like it's some big secret. I have a boyfriend too."

"I know that. I just... It's not that it's a secret. I just enjoy my privacy." You sighed.

"Privacy? We're family, why do you have to keep it so private? That's making it a big deal."

"Anyway, back to the plans." You diverted the topic. You could only bite your tongue for so long and you didn't want to accidentally say something ugly. There was a nice facade that you had to maintain to keep the peace.

"Also, since I'm back, can you make me that Chinese dish you learnt to make the other time? I've been asking each time I return and you haven't made it for me."

"It's a lot of work and I'm busy..." You chewed on your bottom lip.

"Yeah but you're on holiday, right? What? You want me to pay you? I can pay you to make it."

"Money is not the issue here... It's time consuming and a lot of work. There are other things I need to attend to. Making that dish will take me two days..." You tried to reason with her.

"What's the point in saying you learnt to make it if you're not going to make it?"

"Yeah, my bad." You hummed.

"Anyway, our aunt said that for the two family gatherings, you're in charge of desserts so make enough this time, okay? And try something new, you always make the same thing."

From the kitchen, San listened to the conversation, his frown growing deeper as time went on. This was the first time he heard you speak to your cousins and it's like you're an entirely different person. He hated it and he hated how your cousin used your aunt's position in the family to make you do things.

"Are you bringing your boyfriend for any of the gatherings? I brought my boyfriend the last time I came back."

"I remember. But no, I don't intend to bring him this time." You shook your head, eyes casting to the side to meet San's. He just stared back at you with an unreadable expression.

"Maybe it's best that you don't. I got some heat the last time and I'm the favourite of the family. So, who knows what you'll get."

"Right, thanks for the heads up." You awkwardly chuckled.

"But I'm not saying you should keep him away forever. It's rude of you not to invite him. If you're serious about him and talk about him, you should bring him to meet us."

"I do intend to since he's already met my parents a few times. Just not this instance." You said.

"Keeping him away is not only rude, it's not fair to him either. You'll hurt his feelings and your relationship this way."

"I'm aware. Thank you for the advice." You forced a small smile, swallowing the lump in your throat. The exhale you let out was shaky, you were trying your best to keep it together but it was hard when she talked about how you were 'treating' San.

"Baby, are you free? I need your help!" San shouted. You looked up at meet his eyes.

"Looks like you're needed, you better go. Are you sure you can't pick me up from the airport tomorrow?"

"Seems like he needs me. And yeah, I'm sorry about that. I have a family dinner." You lied, hoping she bought your lie. San had come closer to you.

"Mmm, okay. But you better send me to the airport when I leave. Bye, I'll see you the day after tomorrow then."

After she hung up, you felt your whole body quiver. With shaky hands, you put your phone down.

"Baby love?" San approached you carefully but you stood up. You gulped and took a deep breath. In addition to everything else, now you felt embarrassed that San witnessed that.

"I-I'm going to the restroom." You made a beeline for the bathroom and closed the door. You knew you needed to collect yourself and not constantly depend on San to comfort you, you didn't want him to think that you were using him. Turning the sink on, you splashed your face with cold water.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"Love? It's me. Open the door, hmm?" San was heard on the other side of the door.

"Just give me a second." You breathed out. From the gap beneath the door, you saw that he still stood there but he didn't rush you. He remained quiet until you were ready.

"God, I'm so embarrassed." You let out a tired sigh when you opened the door. San was leaning on the opposite wall and stood up.

"What's there to be embarrassed about, baby love?" His eyebrows furrowed with worry.

"Nothing. I'm good, Sannie. Don't worry about me, I-I'm used to it. But thanks for saving me." You threw your arms around his neck. His hands went to their usual place on your hips.

"I'll always save you." He kissed your cheek.

"I hate that she talks to you like that. I... I really hate it... She doesn't know anything about us." He mumbled against your shoulder as he hugged you tightly. You let out a hum, fingers toying with the ends of his hair behind his head.

"You're not rude and I'm not hurt that you're not bringing me to meet your extended family, okay? Our relationship is stronger than she thinks." San squeezed your waist.

"I know. What you think and feel is the most important. That's all that matters to me." You replied in a whisper.

"Aigo, my baby love. My pretty baby, my precious girl." San cooed, patting your butt teasingly.

Before meeting San, you hated people in your personal space. But one of the ways that San shows his love is through physical touch and now, you can't live without his hugs, kisses and cuddles.

*BEEP BEEP*

"Please tell me that's not her." San groaned and buried his face into the crook of your neck as you fished your phone out.

"Oh, nope. It's your boyfriend, he's coming with food for dinner and Yunho's tagging along." You informed, reading the text. San pulled away just to show you that he was rolling his eyes at you. In your phone, Wooyoung's contact was 'San's Boyfriend' and you did refer to him as such.

"He's not my boyfriend and I'm not his boyfriend. I'm YOUR boyfriend. You, (y/n) (y/l/n)." San squished your cheeks, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Not that many people have their boyfriends call another guy 'jagiya'. So can you blame me?' You teased.

"You-" San feign anger, chasing you around.

As you ran away, there was someone at your door. San wrapped his arms around your middle, playfully nibbling on the exposed skin between your neck and shoulder.

"Oh, your boyfriend and Yunho are here." You giggled and opened the door to let them in.

"Jagiya! I'm here!" Wooyoung came barreling in, throwing his arms around San, who caught him before they could both fall over. You chuckled with a shake of your head and wrapped an arm around Yunho to greet him.

"Sorry for coming unannounced." Yunho grinned, wrapping his long arms around you. You shook your head, all of San's friends were nice, you liked being around them.

"Some love for you too, baby girl." Wooyoung tugged you away from Yunho's embrace, planting a kiss on your cheek to rile San up.

"YAH!" San let out an outraged yell.

-

It only took about 3 days after your cousin's return for you to come back to San's place.

"San?" You called out after letting yourself in. He wasn't around, probably in the gym. The first thing you did was shower and wear one of San's shirts. After seeing that you liked to wear his shirts to comfort yourself, he started to set aside some of his shirts in the cupboard labelled 'Baby's Pile'.

"Hi, Shiber." You created a nest of San's blanket and hugged Shiber, just wanted to engulf yourself in his scent. It was the only thing that kept you sane now.

The first thing San did when he arrived home was notice your shoes in the doorway. The past 3 days, you haven't even had the time to text and call each other so he didn't know how you were doing.

"Baby love?" San called but there was no reply. He frowned in confusion and dropped his gym bag on the couch.

"Baby? Where are-" San paused when he saw you in his bed, fast asleep.

"My love." He whispered, hovering over you to give you a kiss on the cheek. You looked so precious and adorable in his shirt, hugging Shiber to you.

San went to take a shower, wanting to jump into bed with you and not disturb you with his sweaty self.

"Sannie?" San heard your sleepy voice from the bathroom and opened the door. You smiled when you saw him there.

"Don't you dare move a single inch. I haven't got a chance to get my cuddles. Let me dry my hair first." San threatened. You saluted and laid back down, squeezing Shiber tightly. You were glad you convinced San not to keep Shiber in storage or something.

"Okay, I'm here." You felt the bed dip as San crawled over to you. His arms reached for you to pull you close to him. The first thing he did was shower you in kisses.

"Come here, baby love." He smothered your in kisses, making you squirm and laugh.

"Ack, San!" You laughed as he gave you a final kiss on the lips.

"Sorry for being MIA and coming unannounced, I just needed to get away for a bit... It's only been a few days since she's been back and I already feel like I can't breathe." You sighed into his neck.

"Don't apologise, I'm glad you feel safe and comforted here. And I'm always happy to see you." He grinned.

"She appeared at my parents' place and wanted to stay over. The moment she left, I came straight here." You told him.

"So that's why you've been MIA. Where's her mom and brothers though? Shouldn't she be staying with them? Or even your oldest aunt, she always stays with her right?" San asked.

"Her mom and brothers couldn't care less. Her mother lets her do whatever she wants and her brothers would rather have her out of the house too since she orders them around and rules the house like a queen. And I think she's only staying my oldest aunt's place towards the end of her trip." You explained.

"My poor baby." San pouted.

"I have the first family gathering tomorrow and frankly, I'm so exhausted I don't even want to go..." You blinked.

"Can you not go? There is another gathering before she leaves, right?" San asked.

"No, I have to. The family will rip me to shreds if they found out I skipped a family gathering to stay with my boyfriend. Because family comes first, right?" You rolled your eyes.

"The only one tht doesn't like her is my mother." You chuckled.

"Your mom never puts up with anyone's bullshit so I am not surprised." San chuckled.

"Plus my mom lowkey doesn't like most of my dad's family anyway." You giggled. San laughed, nodding his head. He stroked your cheek with his thumb.

After you fell back asleep, San quietly grabbed his phone, careful not to disturb you. He thought to send your mother a text to let her know that you were with him and to ask if it was okay for you to stay the night with him.

'Also, I am aware that you have a family gathering to attend to tomorrow. I promise to make sure that I will drop her at your place earlier or the gathering's location on time. - San'

'Alright. Thanks for letting her stay with you, San. She's been stressed and I think she needs some comforting. - (y/n)'s mom'

'Thank you for trusting me. I promise to take good care of her. Have a nice evening. - San'

San then called his mother for recipes because he wanted to cook for you. He wasn't a gourmet cook but he could cook simple dishes for you to eat.

"San?" You called out from the room.

"In the kitchen, love!" San replied from his position by the stove. You shuffled out of the room, still holding Shiber.

"Oh my! Omonim, hello. I'm sorry I didn't see you there!" You jumped when you saw his mother on video call. You jumped out of the frame to adjust your crooked shirt and bed hair, as well to put Shiber down. Then you stepped back to properly bow to her. Both her and San were laughed at your funny actions.

"No worries, dear. Hello." She waved. San was still snickering at you so you secretly pinch his waist. He yelped and jumped, turning to glare at you.

"How are you and abonim? I miss Byeol!" You smiled to the camera, taking the phone up.

"Oh, we're doing fine, dear! Don't worry. And I'm sure Byeol misses you a lot too." She giggled, turning the camera to Byeol.

"Hi, Byeol! Such a cutie." You cooed. Byeol let out a loud meow in response, making you laugh. You could hear San's mom laugh on the other end before she turned the camera back to you.

"Ah, which reminds me. Thank you for sending appa the new foot massager! And for the royal jelly you sent me."

"I'm glad you both like it." You giggled, sitting on the couch and pulling your feet up.

"Like it? I can't even get him to get up from the thing... He even wanted to bring it to the dining table to use it while eating." San's mother sighed with a shake of her head. San smiled softly as he overheard your conversation with his mother.

"I didn't know you sent my parents things." San said after you handed his phone back to him once his mother hung up. You shrugged and leaned against the counter.

"Your mom always feeds me delicious food." You scooped the rice, seeing how San was finishing up his cooking.

"Well, thank you for taking such good care of my parents, baby love." He kissed your cheek.

"No need to thank me. I wanted to do it." You giggled. The both of you sat down at the small dining table to eat together, San handed out the cutlery.

It was nice, spending time with San like this. There was something warm about how domestic and homey it felt.

That's why when San drove you to your oldest aunt's place for the gathering the next day, you didn't want to leave the car. To coax you, San offered to walk you right to the doorstep. You pouted like a little child throwing a tantrum but still let San hold your hand to lead you to your aunt's apartment.

"I don't want to gooooooo. I want to stay with you." You whined, stomping your feet. Full disclaimer, you don't usually act like that, only around San.

"I know, baby. But I promised your mom I would send you here." San chuckled, pulling you along.

"You just hate me, don't you? Because if you love me, you wouldn't send me here."

"Ah, baby~ How can you say that?" San sent you a look. He came up to cup your cheeks, planting a kiss on your lips and swiping the slightly smudged lip gloss.

"Do you want me to stay with you then? I don't mind." San smiled.

"No, you should save yourself when you still can." You groaned. San squeezed your hand and walked with you.

"This is it." You stopped in front of the door, voice filled with dread and despair.

"You'll be okay, baby love. You're strong. But if you've had enough and need me to come get you, just say the word, hmm? I'll be here as soon as I can, your knight in shining armor." San engulfed you in a bear hug, planting a kiss on your temple.

"Thank you, Sannie. I don't know what I would do without you." You hugged him tightly. Before you ran the doorbell, you wanted to wait for San to leave first but you ran into your parents.

They were carrying the two desserts you made before going to San's place yesterday. One carrot cake with cream cheese frosting and the other was cookies.

"Omonim, abonim." San bowed respectfully.

"Thanks for dropping her off, San ah. Would you like to stay for some food?" Your father offered.

"Thank you for the offer but maybe next time, abonim. I already have plans with my sister." San lied. He turned to you and you sent him a grateful smile.

"Ah, alright." He nodded. With a final hug and a bow to your parents, San left. Your cousin opened the door.

"I knew I heard talking outside! Why are all of you just standing there and not ringing the doorbell?" She asked when she saw all of you.

"Oh, (y/n)'s boyfriend dropped her off so we were just greeting each other. But he has something to attend to so he couldn't stay." Your dad explained before entering the house to greet your siblings with your mum by his side. After you removed your shoes, your cousin held your arm.

"Hey, you know... I know your dad said your boyfriend had to rush off but he should have at least come in to say hello to everyone and introduce himself." She leaned in to whisper.

"Yeah but this isn't really the time to introduce him to everyone. Maybe next time." You replied.

"Was he in that much of a rush he couldn't say hi? It just gives off the impression that he's unfriendly and it's honestly quite rude, you know?"

"San's not rude, not in the slightest." Now you felt the need to defend your boyfriend because San was not rude and unfriendly.

"Wouldn't know, he didn't even bother to come in." She chuckled and left you to go.

You felt something boil within you, an ugly anger. She could insult you all she wants but mentioning San was going too far. San would give the world to you, he was a nicest person ever. You chewed on your bottom lip, willing yourself to hold back.

"(y/n)! Why are you just standing there? Come on!" Your other cousins call you. Once again, you took a deep breath, swallowing your anger before forcing a smile and going to join them.

"Hey." You greeted them with hugs.

"My sister said your boyfriend came?" The cousin you were closest to, whispered in your ear as he hugged you.

"Yeah. He wanted to come in to say hi but I told him to just go and save himself. Luckily I did or else he would get grilled, I can't risk that." You sighed.

"Good call." He chuckled, patting your shoulder. You giggled and went to greet your other relatives.

"Oh, (y/n). Can you change the hair appointment you booked for me?" Your cousin asked as you were scooping food.

"You can't make it? I made sure to book it on an open slot in your schedule. And my hairstylist is doing me a favour by coming in on her day off to do your hair before you leave..." You sighed.

"I appreciate that but I don't want to have to wake up so early when it's one of my last days off. You booked it too early." She shrugged.

"Yeah, you should just call and change her appointment. You know she doesn't wake up early for these things, if she goes late, it'll be an even bigger waste of your stylist's time." Your oldest aunt voiced out in support of your cousin. You knew your cousin purposely said it out loud in front of the adults.

"Thank you, you can change the appointment to one of the empty slots in the afternoon or evenings then." She smiled and took her food to go back to one of the tables.

"(y/n), when you booked the chinese restaurant brunch, did you preorder the peking duck?" Your oldest aunt checked.

"No, I was just told to book the table for 8 people at 11 am..." You blinked.

"Ah, you should know we always get the peking duck! Better call them to reserve it before it's too late. I only get peking duck when I am back from London." Your cousin pouted.

"I'll get on it..." You said, trying to contain the sourness in your voice. Putting your food plate down, you went to call the restaurant.

When San heard the doorlock beeping, he checked the time on his laptop. He continued typing on his reports, knowing that you knew your way in. And as he expected, you came trudging in, falling face first onto the sofa.

"Hey, baby love. How was the gathering?" He greeted. You mumbled something into the couch, burying your face into the material of his sofa. San chuckled, putting his laptop and coming to you.

"I didn't hear a single word you just said, my love." San crouched down beside you and stroked the back of your head.

"San..." San didn't expect you to lift your head and to see tears in your eyes.

"Baby! My sweet love, why are you crying? What happened?" San was shocked, he wasn't expecting to see you crying so that sent him into a panic.

"I... I..." You shook your head, feeling like a baby for crying. San hushed you, not wanting to press you for answers.

"It's okay, I've got you." He pulled your leg over his lap so you were straddling him. You clutched onto the material of his shirt like a koala.

"Breathe, my love. Breathe with me. Shh..." His voice was soft as pressed his forehead against yours and purposely breathed loudly so you could follow him.

"It's okay, breathe, baby love. Slow down and take all the time you need." He whispered softly, rubbing your back. You nodded your head in agreement, you did need a minute, a minute to breathe and soak in San's comforting warmth. San was patient, quietly comforting you until your sobs turned to soft whimpers.

"There we go. Good girl. It's going to be okay. Just keep breathing." He kept his eyes trained on you.

"Thank you, San..." You murmured. San guessed that nothing particularly bad happened. You were probably just so frustrated, and mentally and physically exhausted.

"Nothing for you to thank me for. I hate seeing you cry, love." He grasped your hand, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

"I know it's tiring. I'm sorry I can't make it any better." He whispered.

"No, you make it better by being San." You pulled away to meet his eyes, cupping his face in your hands. You were so grateful for San being the most amazing person in the world.

"Cute. I'm glad me being San makes you feel better." He chuckled, holding your hand to kiss your fingertips.

"It's not easy being a San." You played along.

"It's all worth it for you. When it's for you, it's never tiring or difficult." San reached up to wipe the last tears off your cheeks. You hugged him again, feeling his arms securely wrap around your waist.

"Do you know she reached over and took food off my plate? Saying that she's deprieved in London so she never gets to eat such nice food. Then she was being annoying by trying to 'convince' me to give my entire share since she deserves it more?" You complained to San.

"In the end, she used her fingers to take bites of my food!" You sighed, shaking your head.

"At that point, I'd rather give her my food. I don't want to know if she's washed her hands. Couldn't she have just taken her own portion and be happy with it?" San sighed, rubbing your arm.

"Apparently not. She kept all this food for herself, saying she'll eat it later so others won't take it and guess what happened?" You asked.

"She didn't even finish it?" San guessed.

"Exactly! First she stops us from eating then after that, says it's too much and she'll feel sick if she eats it. She'd rather THROW IT AWAY!" You exclaimed.

"That's horrible." San frowned. If San was there, he would be frustrated and annoyed too.

"My aunt bought this really fancy, nice ice cream for all of us to share. My cousin took my portion without asking me! She said I could have it again another time but she can't. And by the way, that was her THIRD share. So I didn't have any... It's not even that I wanted the ice cream that badly, it's more... her!" You groaned.

"I know, baby love. I can't believe you two are from the same family when you're so different." San said, leaning his head on his hand.

"She's so different from the rest of the cousins..." You threw your head back.

"I know you said it wasn't about the ice cream but do you want some? I stopped by the store on my way back and stocked up the freezer with your favourite." San offered.

"Why are you so perfect, Choi San?" You whined.

"Far from but I'm glad you see me as such." He kissed the top of your head. You went to the kitchen to grab the ice cream and two spoons.

"No, you eat it, baby." San shook his head when you held the spoon out to him.

"The best part about ice cream is sharing it so take the spoon." You insisted, taking a seat beside him. San peeled open the lid for you to dig in. You leaned against his arm, the both of you taking turns to scoop out of the tub to eat.

"Do you want a blanket?" San asked.

"No, I just want to stay like this... With you... I don't want anything else." You said with a shake of your head. You were just happy in San's presence, he was all you needed.

"Just one more week before she goes back, one more week with one more gathering and it'll be over." You sighed.

"You can do it." San chuckled. When the ice cream was done, San threw the empty tub while you washed the used spoons.

"Go shower and come to bed, hmm? I'll wait for you." San squeezed your hip. You nodded with a hum, feeling slightly sticky on your cheeks from crying previously.

-

The last big, family gathering was at your house. You barely slept the night before because you were stressed. While you baked the desserts in the middle of the night, you were talking to San on video call. You felt bad for making him stay up with you but he was gaming on the side.

"Hello! Welcome." You heard your parents greet the family members that came. You were still setting up the food table, getting everything that you would need.

"Wait, you're wearing that when you have guests in the house?" Your cousin came up to you.

"No, I just haven't got the time to change since I was helping my mother set up." You replied with a soft sigh.

"Well, now that guests are here. You should change. You shouldn't welcome them in home clothes." She raised an eyebrow. You pursed your lips and placed the napkins on the stand.

"Honey! Go change. We can handle the rest, thank you." Your mother came.

"Sure, mom." You nodded with a tight smile and went to take a quick shower to wash the sweat off you.

'She just arrived and she's already giving me grief... - (y/n)'

After sending San a text, you threw your phone aside and took out clothes to change in. You stood by your dresser to dry your hair a little, not wanting to get told off by your relatives by going around with wet hair.

"Oh, welcome! So glad you could make it!" There was a loud commotion outside, you mainly heard your mother exclaim. Putting your hair dryer down, you went outside.

"Thank you for having me." The latest guest said, handing your mother a bouquet of flowers and your father, a bottle of wine.

"What..." You stood there, frozen and dumbfounded.

"(y/n), you didn't tell me your boyfriend was coming!" Your relatives all looked fondly at you and San as he respectfully bowed to greet all of them, shaking their hands too.

"Uhhh, yeah I didn't know too..." You said, frowning slightly hoping you were not dreaming.

"It was my idea to surprise you with San." Your mother giggled.

"Yes, it was all her idea." San, handsomely dressed in a shirt and dress pants, wrapped an arm around your waist, nodding his head.

"Hey." He smiled to you. You smiled back, still kind of surprised by his sudden appearance. But you took a deep breath, San being here shouldn't make you scared, it should make you feel more relaxed and comforted. You were still worried that your extended family will be too hard on him.

"Wait a minute, come here for a bit?" You asked softly. San nodded, following you to your room.

"Baby love, I'm sorry, I know you said-" San was cut off by you throwing your arms around him to hug him tightly. His hands went to hold your hips.

"I'm hoping this hug means you aren't angry?" He chuckled.

"Not at all. Surprised, yes. But angry? No. I know your intentions are good." You smiled softly, pulling away to give him a peck.

"Of course. I'm here with you." He placed kisses along your jaw, making you giggle at how ticklish it was. After that, you both went out, not wanting to stay in your room for too long.

"Let me help you, omonim!" San squeezed your hand and left your side to go your mother in the kitchen.

"Ah, San, go get food and eat. You're a guest." Your mother chuckled, shooing him out.

"You should eat! You and (y/n) have been busy preparing the whole morning, I'm sure you guys didn't get to eat breakfast. Come, I'll take over." San insisted on doing the dishes. Your mother gave up, going to join your father at the food table.

"You wash, I'll dry." You grabbed the dish cloth.

"Baby, I want you to eating something or at least, sit down to rest. You didn't even sleep last night..." San frowned.

"With you, I don't feel tired at all. And we can eat together later." You shook your head. San sighed in defeat, reaching over to knock his head against yours since his hands were soapy.

You weren't done with the dishes but your mother and father came to chase you and San out.

"I guess we should eat." You shrugged. Sticking by San seemed to save you from your cousin and save San from your relatives.

"You want this?" San asked, holding your plate for you. He held both your plates and patiently followed you while you scooped the dishes for both of you.

"No~ No vegetables." San held his plate away when you tried to put spinach salad.

"(y/n), don't be mean to him." Your mother chided. You shot her a look of betrayal while San smirked proudly. With enough food on your plates, you went to sit down with your other cousins. They were nice, making an effort to get to know San and including him in the general conversations like he was part of the family.

"Here." San removed the bones from the galbi and placed it on your plate for you, taking the other pieces that still had bones in them off your plate.

"Thanks." You smiled. Shifting your eyes, you saw the judgemental stares from your spoiled cousin.

"San, would you like a glass of wine?" Your father offered.

"No, thank you. I have to drive later. Do you want a glass?" San turned to you. You nodded and San stepped up, respectfully receiving your glass from your father with a slight bow.

San got along well with your relatives and cousins. You could leave him alone and he would be fine.

"I'm going to the bathroom." You stood up. San held your plate for you while he conversed with your uncle and cousin.

"(y/n), why did you bring your boyfriend to the gathering?" Your cousin stopped you in the hallway just as you were exiting the bathroom. You took a slight step back, suddenly feeling how menacing her presence was.

"I didn't bring him, not planned to at least. You heard it earlier, my mother surprised me by inviting him and my father wanted to introduce him to the family." You spoke calmly.

"Do you know how humiliating and unfair it is with you parading him around in front of me?" She crossed her arms.

"What do you mean? What does San being friendly and nice have to do with you?" You frowned.

"You saw how interrogative they were with my boyfriend, they treated him so much like an outsider. It's unfair that they warmly welcome yours." She scoffed.

"Shouldn't you be finding issues with your boyfriend rather than issues with mine? It's not San's fault that he's better." You glared.

"How can you say that?" She gasped, obviously feeling the shock of someone speaking to her that way.

"Your boyfriend came in, dressed like a slop! He didn't bother to say hi and introduce himself, he just helped himself to the food and didn't bother to offer anyone help with anything. So those issues lie with your boyfriend, they have NOTHING to do with mine." You clenched your fist by your side.

"You-" She took a step forward.

"Hey, baby love. I was looking for- Is everything okay?" San came, a slight frown on his face when he realised it was you and your cousin, the tension in the air heavy and thick.

"I don't know, is it?" You raised your eyebrows at your cousin, making San glance at her as he slotted himself between you and her.

"No offence but this is a family issue, San sshi." Your cousin said with spite. You rolled your eyes.

"I am aware, I just want to try my best to protect (y/n) from anything that may upset her." San smiled. He didn't wait for her to react, or he didn't care.

"Let's go, your food's getting cold." He patted your head. You nodded and walked back out with him.

"Sit here." San naturally brought you to the balcony to sit with him on the bench for some privacy, bringing your plate and wine glass with him. The way he did it, no one paid any mind. He disappeared for a bit and came back with a throw blanket from your room.

"Thanks, San. I'm fine. Really, and this time I mean it when I'm fine." You chuckled as he draped the blanket over your lap so you wouldn't be cold.

"What happened?" He asked softly.

"Blaming you for things that have nothing to do with you. You know that I would take any insult but when it comes to you..." You sighed.

"My hero." San cooed teasingly, scratching your chin like you were a cat. You knew he did that because you always did that to him, comparing his likeness to that of a cat.

"You're always protecting me and being my rock. I can protect you too." You cleared your throat.

"Thank you, baby love. You're so cute. But you know I don't care what anyone else thinks. All that matters to me, is what you think."

"Well, I already think you're the most amazing person in the world and that I don't deserve you-" San stopped you by putting his hand over your mouth.

"There you go again, sprouting nonsense." He pouted with a frown. You laughed and held your hands up in defeat, stabbing a piece of meat to eat. San looked at you with pride and happiness, as if you were his whole world. And if you ask him, he'll probably say that you ARE his whole world.

"Shall I get you a refill of wine?" He offered, gesturing to your empty wine glass.

"No, it's okay, just stay here with me?" You asked.

"Of course, as long as you need." He smiled softly, letting you lean your head on his shoulder. Lacing fingers with you, he brought your hand up to kiss the back of it.

You were wrong, there was nothing for you to be scared of, bringing San to a family gathering.

It didn't bring you more stress and anxiety like you thought it would. Instead it made you feel reassured and comforted having him around, the same feeling San always gives you.

Your crazy, chaotic family didn't chase him away. They welcomed and accepted him, seeing him the same way that you do.

"I'm grateful I have you with me, Sannie. Not just here and now... but always." You squeezed his hand.

"I'm glad you feel that way because I'm not letting you go that easily. Plus, I think I can safely say most of your family loves me. Including your dad! He wanted me to drink wine with him and told me I could stay the night if I need to." He grinned proudly.

"Wow, that's really progress. Coming from my dad. I thought it would take a while more for him to be friendlier with you." You chuckled.

"He's just protective of his daughter like any father is. I would be too if my daughter was like you." He said. You rolled your eyes and snorted at his cheesiness.

"And this is a warning, I will be protective of our daughter. I'm serious." He said seriously.

"W-What are you saying now?" You grew flustered at his words and punched his arm, fanning your face. But deep down, you knew you would want nothing more than to have a future with San.

~

Masterlist

[cherry-jamm]

Just not him

・❥・ Your situationship doesn’t like that you were seen with another man

・❥・word count: 1.2k

・❥・warnings: Homelander and The Deep (they’re their own warnings), fade to black smut, Homie is a little toxic, supe!reader

・❥・I don't write smut because I'm not good at it, but I'm not good at it because I don't write it, a viscous cycle.

Also sorry if this doesn't make much sense I was in and out of consciousness while writing 😝

"No. No way am I doing that."

"(Y/n), your sexuality is part of your brand. May I remind you your approval rates are going down by the minute." Madelyn sighs.

"Yeah, I get that, but you expect me to go out there and flirt with The Deep? I'd be making a fool of myself." Your cheeks are hot as you try to defend yourself.

"Ah, ah, you'd be making a spectacle, and that's exactly what we need right now. Drama, scandal, rumors."

"And it has to be him?" You deadpanned. "It can't be anyone else? What about Homelander?" You felt yourself becoming desperate.

“Homelander? And you?” A smile breaks out on her face, but she tries to hide it. “I don’t mean any offense, but you two aren’t an ideal pair up.” She talks to you like you’re a child. You fight the urge to tell her that you and Homelander are actually a very good pair. “Anyways, recently you and The Deep have been trending, as a couple.” You scoff.

Recently on a podcast with some man you’re sure is very popular in a different crowd, The Deep confessed that he found you to be the most attractive member of The Seven. Ever since then a burst of videos were posted of cute moments between the two of you, which turned into edits, which turned into fan art, which turned into fanfiction. You fought the urge to gag, who even makes that stuff? From a marketing perspective, it made for great business, a romance angle brought new eyes to the scene. To you, it was demeaning.

“Fine. But I’m not going to take this any further than a few flirtatious remarks at tomorrow’s gala.” You remind yourself it’s not good to anger someone like Madelyn, she’s scarier than she lets on. Madelyn nods and you walk out of her office, much more embarrassed than you were when you entered. As you stormed down the hallway to the safety of your own home, none other than The Deep greeted you.

Speak of the devil and he shall arrive.

“Hey! How are you doing today, cutie?” He starts. He practically salivates as he walks beside you. You feel like you’re gonna be sick.

“I’m not in the mood right now.”

“C’mon, why don’t you let me take you out for a drink or two? We’re supposed to be all over each other tom-“

“Not in the mood!” You cut him off. Your walking increases to practically sprinting until you reach your home. You slam the door shut behind you. You shrugged off your clothes and crawled into bed. No way in hell were you getting out of bed until the last possible minute.

You stood, still as a statue. You wore a deep purple outfit. The silks enveloped your body in a sexy, yet elegant way. You had never felt more bored in your life. The Deep had his hand positioned on your lower back, where it had been all night. You had already talked to everyone important, you made sure the photographers got enough shots of you coquettishly whispering in The Deep’s ear, or leaning on him while being in conversation. You had taken notice to the fact that Homelander had yet to arrive. The gala would be ending soon, and without an appearance from the leader of The Seven himself. His absence further ruined your mood.

You and Homelander were in a bit of a situationship. There was no official label for your relationship. He’d come to your house just to sleep with you one day, then act like you two were strangers the next. You had learned to accept that nothing serious would come from the relationship. But there was still a part of you that wished he had come tonight.

“(Y/n), big smiles.” The Deep reminded. “Why do you look so fucking depressed?” His voice was low enough that it would look like casual banter to any outsider. His hold on the small of your back grew tight.

“Back off and mind your own business.” You said through gritted teeth. You forced a coy smile and blush onto your face as if he had just said something really flustering to you.

“Hey you two!” You felt your brows furrow. Sometime between two minutes ago, when you last scanned the room, and now Homelander had entered, and without you noticing. Your fake smile melted into a real one.

“Homelander.” You greeted. The Deep pulled you in impossibly closer. He didn’t say anything, just nodded. You had a feeling he was scared of Homelander.

“Do you mind if I borrow them?” Homelander asked The Deep. All of you knew it wasn’t a question, just a thinly veiled demand. “You seem to have them chained down.” He laughed, referring to the vice grip currently on your back. After a second the hold was gone, The Deep had already walked off to get himself another drink.

It was just you and Homelander now. He moved close to you to whisper in your ear.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked with a plastic smile. You felt your stomach drop.

“My job.” You shot back with an equally fake smile. You watched as his cheeks turned red with anger.

“No.” He grabbed your wrist. “We’re leaving.” You planted your feet in the ground.

“Excuse you?”

“I said, we’re leaving.” He hissed.

“They’ll have my head if I’m seen leaving with you.”

“They can fucking suck it up. I’m The Homelander. I get who I want, when I want. We’re leaving.” He dragged you by the wrist to pull you out the back doors. You were acutely aware that all the photographers turned away their cameras after seeing the expression on Homelander’s face.

The cold night air curled around your exposed skin, but you had no time to even breathe it in before your head hit the wall behind you and Homelander’s lips were on yours. His hands gripped your waist as he pulled you closer to him. You push him away, sucking in deep breaths.

“What’s gotten into you? Why are you acting like this?” You ask breathlessly. You can’t say you don’t enjoy this possessiveness, but he’s never made such a scene for you before, especially in public. He doesn’t answer before pulling you back into another hungry kiss.

He pulls away, his breath hot against your neck. “You’re mine. All fucking mine. No one else can have you, especially not that fucker Deep.” He pants. His grip tightened in a way you’re sure would bruise if it wasn’t for your invulnerable skin. “Fucking say it. Say that you’re mine.” A tone of pathetic desperation creeps into his voice. You smile and curl your fingers in his hair.

You wish Madelyn could see you now. Not a good pair, as if.

“I’m yours, Homelander.” You assure him. He whines against your collarbone. You’re sure tomorrow he’ll go back to pretending none of this happened, but for now you revel in his attention. “Why don’t you show them that I belong to you?”

It’s so petty, just a cheap way to stick it in Madelyn’s face. Homelander grins as he tries to suck a hickey on your neck. Both of your smiles quickly faded at the realization that there’s no way to bruise invincible skin. “Shit.” You cursed under your breath. Homelander looked up at you with his big blue eyes. You run your fingers through his hair.

“I’m sure you could show them in a different way.” You smirked.

[pillow-anime-talk]

his pregnant girl.

synopsis: A little slice of life scenes where his significant other is pregnant.

# tags: headcanons; current marriage relationships; slice of life; soft romance; mostly fluff; maybe a bit of comedy; pregnancy; mention of faint and vomit; sfw

includes: female reader ft. qin shi huang, adam, jack the ripper & nikola tesla {ror}

author’s note: i just woke up, thought about it and wrote it. enjoy :)

— QIN SHI

↘ When Ying Zheng saw you for the first time, he thought you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen; you had a lovely and gentle smile, your eyes sparkled in the sun like the most pretty gemstones, your skin looked healthy and tidy, and you were wearing a flowery dress that was perfect for the current weather in the city. That day, the Emperor went for a walk to the capital to see how his people were doing. However, the moment he saw you – when you were buying fresh fruit from one of the sellers – his thoughts were only focused on you and your blushes. On the same day you were brought to the palace as the first concubine, although you quickly felt something more for the King of China and he also felt the same in a very short time.

↘ Qin Shi Huang never had any more concubines; you completely occupied his mind and heart by being by his side until the very end. In the meantime, however, you began to spend private time with each other: talking, eating together and walking around the gardens in the huge palace. Those were really beautiful and memorable years for you.

↘ A few long months after your first meeting, after you moved into the palace, and after becoming the country’s first empress, a huge, loving smile lit up your face. The trusted doctor that day gave you very important information and as it turned out – you were pregnant. You almost cried at the news, thanking the doctor for his help. At first, you suspected food poisoning because of the morning sickness, but the information of having a small child under your heart, the fruit of your and the Emperor’s love, was the best thing that could have happened to you.

↘ As soon as your beloved returned to the mansion, you asked him for a private conversation. He instantly sent all the gathered guards away and took your hand. For a moment he was afraid that you were sick, that you didn’t love him, that you wanted to leave, but the truth turned out to be completely different.

↘ “...I’m pregnant.” You whispered a simple sentence, touching your slightly swollen tummy, and the man frowned. “The baby is doing well at the moment, but I was recommended daily visits because this will be our first kid.” You added quietly. After a short while, you felt a warm touch of fingers on your cheeks, and then a light kiss in the middle of your lips.

↘ “I am very happy, my Queen. I hope he or she will be born healthy.” He whispered and you nodded shyly. “Now you have to take care of yourself more than before. I’ll ask the maids to fill the tubs with warm water. If you want, I can join you. I want to see you.” He added directly to your ear and you blushed instantly on the cheeks. Even if Zheng was the Emperor, he was your husband in the first place... a bit of a playful and provocative husband.

— ADAM

↘ You realized something was wrong when your tummy was bigger than it should have been – of course you could have blamed it on eating too much fruit or drinking too much water, but that wasn’t it. You felt different; a little insecure, a little weird. For the next few days you were looking for answers to your ailments, stomach pains, swollen fingers and ankles, slightly aching spine.

↘ “... Are you okay, Y/N?” A calm voice reached your ears and you looked up at the fair-haired, handsome man who was lying on his back in the grass and looking up at the night sky. You hesitantly touched your stomach, shaking your head. You already knew the answer to your question yesterday, but you were still getting ready to confess the truth to your partner. “Tell me what is going on.” He said, this time looking straight at your face. His eyes were calm, slightly tired, but still full of warmth.

↘ “I have... a child in me, Adam.” You spoke softly, almost inaudibly, but the man understood your words perfectly. He lifted his head a bit and then the whole body. A second later he walked over to you sitting on a flat rock. He touched your face hesitantly, looking for a bit of a joke in you, but when he couldn’t find one, he just smiled. “You are mad at me?”

↘ “Where did this idea come from?” He asked surprised as he sat down next to your person. His arm wrapped around your waist and his hand touched your swollen belly. “It’s mine, so I love it. I love you too.” He said confidently and you sighed in relief. “When will I be able to see her? Or him?”

↘ “Oh, I don’t know.” You admitted slightly amused, then touched your tummy as well. “Sometimes I feel it moving. I think it’s healthy.” You said, nodding your head and your lover hugged your body tighter to his. You looked definitely different than a few weeks ago, but still the most beautiful in Adam’s eyes. Your eyes were feisty, your hair got a beautiful golden flash, your complexion definitely improved.

↘ The state of blessedness was a time full of worries, but also assurances that you two will be fine.

— JACK

↘ You and Jack have been trying for a baby for many months. Your relationship was strong and connected by marriage, so the child was the next stage of your love and confirmation of your feelings. However, it was difficult for you to predict whether the expected pregnancy was already developing in your womb or not yet; so far you have not felt any pain or nausea, on the contrary, you felt very well. Nevertheless, one day, you found a trusted doctor who had successfully provided prenatal care to many local pregnant women. After a short conversation with a middle-aged man, you were examined.

↘ “... I’ve been working for many years and if my experience doesn’t deceive me... I can say at this moment that you are expecting a baby.” He said in a calm tone. “All of my patients had the same symptoms as you, including amenorrhea and increased appetite. I can’t tell how many weeks the baby is currently, but I assume it’s the second or third month of pregnancy.” He added, and then on a slightly yellowed piece of paper he wrote you some recommendations for taking care of your health in the coming weeks. You almost passed out after leaving the cabinet, but the excitement was overwhelming in your mind. You quickly returned to your apartment in a small tenement house, where your partner was waiting for you.

↘ He was about to drop a cup of beautifully scented tea as soon as he looked into your eyes and noticed the bright orange aura surrounding you. Your aura was strong and visible like never before.

↘ “M-My darling, are you okay?” He asked anxiously as your hand embraced his much larger, slightly colder, hand. “Everything’s all right?” He asked again and you nodded your head, hugging his body as quickly as possible.

↘ “Honey, I think I’m pregnant. I went to the doctor and he said it’s the second or third month.” You whispered, a bit ashamed. Your partner looked at your belly and then at your pretty face. He instantly hugged you tighter, smiling. He was so happy and fulfilled.

↘ “My lady. Even that, we can make sure of the doctor’s words and talk about it in the bedroom, what do you think about it?” He said in a low voice, making your nose blush. You only nodded your head in response and a moment later the man lifted your body up.

— NIKOLA

↘ You’ve known Nikola since... always. You were best friends who grew up together and over time started to feel something more about each other. Nikola was a man with a big heart, both for science and for people who were especially important to him – his beloved brother, the rest of his immediate family and, most of all, you.

↘ You were a harmonious couple who supported each other always and regardless of the situation. You were proud of your husband’s zeal and achievements, of his inventions, of his failures, of all his attempts, of his small and big mistakes, of his great desires, of his smile and much more. You supported him as much as you could, always offering him a hot meal, a sweet or a cup of fresh coffee. Sometimes you would come to his studio to spend some time with him and talk. Sometimes you helped him with his ideas and not infrequently your reasoning helped him get things going.

↘ Not one invention has been named after you or the first letter of your name.

↘ As an engineer’s wife, you knew many things; you could construct a simple mechanism, describe it, you could calculate difficult mathematical formulas and you read books with interest. So when your body started changing you knew you might be pregnant; all the girls close to you had similar or even the same symptoms as you. You’ve been thinking for a long time about telling the truth to a man who is currently dealing with his greatest work in life. But if you hadn’t done it then, you probably wouldn’t have had the courage to do it later.

↘ “... Honey, do you have a moment?” Upon entering his studio, you asked uncertainly, shaking a brown basket filled with food. Your lover nodded quickly and tightened the last screw, then came over to you, kissing your forehead. “Your favourite.” You added and he just chuckled and thanked you.

↘ You sat in carefree silence for a while. Your fingers brushed the hem of your dress and your eyes wandered from one corner of the room to the other. Finally, the man asked if you were feeling unwell. You sighed, playing with the sleeve of the clothes.

↘ “I’m pregnant, Nikola.” You giggled in your soul, looking at his face.

↘ A fork with a piece of meat fell on the table next to important papers and your husband looked at you in indescribable shock. It took him a moment to recalculate what you just said to him, and then he felt that the world around is getting darker... and darker.

↘ “Nikola?!” You screamed, catching his body falling to the side. Although the reaction at first scared you, the moment your partner woke up, you experienced the greatest love attack of your life. The man gave you soft kisses all over your face, shouting every now and then that he would be a father and that he would name his next invention after your son or daughter.

[cognacdelights]

play wicked games, win wicked prizes [1]

gif by @spacedean.

my supernatural masterlist

summary: she craves male validation. he's the best high she's ever gotten. now they're both stuck in a sick and twisted game of foreplay that neither are willing to lose.

warnings: daddy issues — daddy issues galore. self-esteem issues. i am well aware that this is not a healthy relationship and is for entertainment purposes only. sexual content and themes. swearing. alcohol use. religious undertones. small age gap romance.

author's note: this will be in two parts as it's looking like it's going to be around 15k words in total. second part will be released soon. minors have been warned. do not interact.

It was hard to define her relationship with The Winchester Brothers.

There was Sam; and he was just Sam. He was a year older than her, and the epitome of the dorky, older brother that she never had. He played board games with her and helped her with her Calculus homework. They shared book recommendations and did research together. She forced him to play Princesses with her and hold tea parties against his will.

But most importantly he was a friend. She’d never had a friend before. Not until the day that rusted, old Impala pulled up outside Bobby’s shop and John Winchester had all but begged Bobby to take his boys in for just a couple of nights. She remembered it like it was just yesterday — hiding behind the over stacked bookshelf, listening as the two older men argued back and forth. Bobby eventually gave in, as Bobby always did, and waved John off with a stern look and a handful of colourful curse words.

Up until that day, it had always been just her. And Bobby. Bobby did the best that he could, but he wasn’t her father, and he never got a break from the job. There was always a phone going off here, then a bloodied and injured hunter turning up at the door there, or the local Sherrif Department snooping around here, there, and everywhere.

Sam was shy at first. Quiet and introverted. He always had his head stuck in a book. She quickly learned that wasn’t entirely the case, he just took a little while to warm up to you. But once that match was lit, there was no stopping the fully-fledged campfire that burned. They were friends. Best friends, even, at times. They understood each other and found solace in knowing that they weren’t alone anymore. They were two peas in a pod.

Her relationship with Dean was far more complex.

He was older; five years older than her to be precise.

Dean didn’t pay her any attention at first. In fact, he barely even acknowledged her presence. He was hyper focused on Sam; always making sure that he ate his breakfast and brushed his teeth before bed. He was more of a parental figure to Sam than Bobby was. Between looking after Sam and helping Bobby research cases, he didn’t seem to have much time for her at all.

It wasn’t until the day of her eighth birthday that she really seemed to turn a corner with Dean. She spent the day sat on the windowsill, peering longingly out and waiting for her father to arrive. She was dressed head to toe in her best outfit; a white, frilly dress with a matching silk ribbon, tied around her plaited ponytail. Her perfectly polished shoes swung back and forth in anticipation as her chestnut eyes lit up with a hopeful glint at every swoosh of the trees and roar of an engine. She was so damned sure that he would come. Why wouldn’t he? He was her father. It was her birthday.

Dean knew that he wasn’t coming. He’d been around the block enough times to know how this played out, and it was never a happy ending. When the sky began to darken, he eventually sat beside her on the old, flattened cushions — a slice of cherry pie, topped with a singular lit candle, in his hand. He caught the saddened look that dimmed her eyes as the realisation began to set in.

Her father didn’t come that day, or the next day, or even the day after that. There wasn’t even so much as a phone call. He pulled up six weeks later with a broken arm and unrecognisable letters etched into a torn and bloodied piece of paper. The only reason Andrew Lawson had returned was to seek out Bobby’s help in translating the words. There was no big, shiny make-up gift, no birthday card, no apology. Just yet another rejection; he shooed her away so the adults could talk.

Dean, once again, saw the flash of hurt that glazed over her eyes. It pained him, because he saw so much of himself in her. He too had forgotten birthdays, and excitedly watched out of windows for his father to never arrive and had been banished from rooms so that the adults could talk. He too had been shoved to the very bottom of the priority list, and the knew the weight of the anguish that came along with that. He knew what that did to a child’s self-esteem.

As they grew older, they became closer.

Dean was a big part of her life. He taught her how to play soccer, including all the dirty plays to win the ball without the referee noticing. He taught her how to fight, and how to shoot a gun. He taught her how to drive — albeit illegally in a stolen, clapped-out banger that they joy rode around the backroads of Souix Falls. He gave the Lawson girl her first cigarette when she was just fifteen, much to Bobby’s dismay. He smoked up her first joint with her on the hood of The Impala. He bought her a four-pack of beer to take to her first high school party and drove her home, so she was safe. He took her to her first bar. He took her on her first hunt. He patched up her wounds. He bailed her out of jail after her first arrest.

They fought like cat and dog, and as only they could. Over anything and everything; the TV remote, supernatural lore, the rules of Monopoly. Whether she was ready for The Hunt. They used to drive Bobby insane with their bickering — with all the door slamming, and flipping off, and the countless “Son of a Bitch” curses that would echo through the house.

As she’d reached her twenties, they’d become the epitome of comfortable with each other. Perhaps too comfortable at times. They’d shared beds together and slept beside each other in the backseat of The Impala. She’d wear his clothes — his flannel shirts as jackets to keep herself warm, or his old, logo-printed t-shirts to bed. She was open about her sex life, as he was too. She’d brush her teeth whilst he was in the shower, and vice versa. She’d flitter through their motel rooms in nothing but a skimpy towel. She’d sit in his lap if there wasn’t a seat, or sometimes even if there was, and lay her head on his shoulder when she needed some soft, human contact. He’d run his fingers through her hair. He’d tug her jeans up by the belt loops, over the strings of her thong, and pull the hem of her skirt down as she drifted past him.

Somewhere — somehow — along the line, they had found themselves locked in this sick and twisted game of foreplay. Teasing. Taunting. Toying. It never went further than some light touching, but their mouths were nasty, and their thoughts were downright vulgar. They got a perverse kick out of it, especially her. In all the rejection from her father, she had turned to seeking out male validation to fill the void and Dean Winchester was the ultimate high; the random, slick-jawed man at a bar would give her a five-minute high at most before the shame would set in, but Dean would have her orbital for days. One look, one touch, one quick-witted comment would have her floating amongst the constellations.

And then, he died. Well, so she had assumed. Sam had explained that he was gone. Just gone. Nobody knew where, or how. He was just: gone.

Her world turned upside down. There were no more Orion-level highs, just five-minute boosts to her ego before the guilt-ridden shame would drag her back down into a pit of self-loathing. She swept her way through The South — hitting bar after bar, bedding man after man, destroying monster after monster. She drank and she smoked until she didn’t even recognise herself in the mirror anymore.

Until her phone rang — a number that had once been disconnected flashing across the screen. Sam Winchester.

“Good morning, you’ve reached Maggie May’s Flower Shop. How may we help you today?” she put on her best Southern Belle accent. Even though she knew damned well who was on the other end of the phone, she still turned out her spiel. She would be damned to the darkest corners of Hell if she didn’t put him through the ringer after almost a year of no contact.

“Maggie—” a timid voice sounded throughout the speaker, “—it’s Sam.” He waited anxiously for her to respond but when she remained silent, he was forced to continue. “We need your help.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I know a Sam. Have you placed an order with us?” Maggie shot back with a sickly sweetness to her tone.

There was a heavy breath on the opposite end of the phone. “Come on, Mags. We’re working a case, and we could really use your help… It’s rough out here.”

“May I suggest our apology bouquets,” she continued, standing her ground, “they’re just divine. Will smooth over almost any of your wrongdoings.”

“Apology bouquets—” a deeper, gruffer voice chuckled, “—what did you do?”

Maggie instantly dropped the Southern Belle façade. “Dean?” she questioned, voice dripping with surprise.

An uncouth melody of noises permeated from the phone. A whack. A loud groan. A grumble of curse words. “You didn’t tell her, Dumbass?”. Followed by rustling and shuffling. Then mumbling. They were arguing. Maggie couldn’t comprehend exactly what they were arguing over — the line was too crackly, and she was too hungover to concentrate — but they were most certainly at each other’s throats.

“Hello?” she huffed impatiently.

“Maggie May,” Dean’s husky voice filled her ears, “how you been?”

“Uh—” she didn’t know how to answer that question. The honest answer was far too much more than she was willing to give away to anyone, but to say that she had been just peachy would have been a downright lie. Both Dean and Sam would have seen right through it. “I’ve been more Sober in my life—” she bit her lip, despite the two brothers being unable to see, “—and I don’t remember getting back to my motel room. But I’m alone, so I think that counts for something.”

“How quickly can you get to Stillwater, Oklahoma? We’re working a job and could use you right about now.”

She rolled herself over under the quilted comforter until she teetered on the very edge of the bed, her dark locks falling into her face. “I don’t think I should be driving right now,” she admitted, vision blurry as she peeled herself out of the warmth and stumbled her way towards the bathroom. She pulled on the string for the light and was immediately met with harsh, white lighting. Her head throbbed as she let out an involuntary groan.

“Jesus, girl, how much did you drink?” he asked — his face scrunching up at the lethargic pads of her feet and the uncomfortable groans that echoed through the speaker.

“Enough to drown a fish,” Maggie mumbled back.

She stared at herself in the mirror; her eyes were bloodshot, and a dark, mauve bruise painted her cheek an unsightly manner. She hissed quietly as she ever so gently reached her fingers up to touch it. Bad idea. It pulsed with pain. On further inspection, she had a busted lip — dried blood coating the thin cut.

“Atta girl, I suppose.”

“I can be in Oklahoma in a day—” she answered, running the tap, “—but you’re gonna have to give me a few hours before the single vision kicks back in.” She splashed the cool water over her face and instantly regretted it. “What’s the case?” she asked.

“Two deaths at an all-girls Catholic boarding school,” Sam cut in.

“We can’t get close enough to figure out what’s going on,” Dean added.

“I guess I’ll start practicing my Hail Marys then.” Swiping the towel over her freckled features, she left the phone balancing on the edge of the porcelain sink.

“No amount of Hail Marys are gonna save you.”

She spat a response, “bite me, Winchester.”

“I’m sure you’d love that, sweetheart—” Dean chuckled, “—but we’ve got a couple of civvy deaths to deal with first.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

It had been a long twelve hours on the road, and by the time Maggie’s old, beat-up pick-up truck pulled into the motel parking lot it was pushing midnight. The red, neon light of the sign cast down onto the black asphalt, dimly lighting up a path to the several motel room doors, and the few wall lamps flickered every couple of seconds. The walls were peeling their beige paint — as if shedding all their unspoken sins away — and rusted, metal chairs lined the tiled walkway. It couldn’t have looked any shadier if it had tried.

Maggie killed the engine, watching as the warm lamps of her headlights faded into the darkness. She stepped out, the thick soles of her boots hitting solid ground for the first time in what felt like forever. The midnight air ran bitter, but it was a welcomed reprieve from the humid temperatures of New Orleans. A chill crept along her spine like two gentle fingertips — however, not a patch on Dean’s. She tugged the sleeves of her over-sized flannel over her fingers and proceeded down the walkway, leather duffle bag in hand.

If she hadn’t had it drilled into her that you always pick the motel room closest to the exit — in case the need for a quick getaway ever arose — the sleek, black Chevrolet Impala parked outside would have given which room they were staying in away. Well, that and the gruff sounds of their arguing. The curtains were pushed closed, but there was a light on in the room; two tall silhouettes appeared in front of the window as what she could only assume was the TV flashed advertisement after advertisement in the background.

“I’m not a child anymore, Dean—” Sam’s husky tone echoed through the courtyard, “—you don’t get to make decisions for me. If I say I’m good, then I’m good.”

Maggie stuffed a hand into the pocket of her flannel and retrieved a credit card; it was and old one in an alias that she no longer went by — most likely maxed out and with a red flag marked against it on the system.

“No, you don’t get to make these kinds of decisions when you take a year out,” Dean shot back. His voice was deep and gravelly, a sure sign that he’d been drinking. “You’re out of practice.”

She slid the credit card between the mouldy, wooden door and its frame and pressed her weight against it.

“This isn’t about me being ‘out of practice’,” Sam deduced — his words turning more accusatory than defensive, “why don’t you tell me what this is really about? Get it all out in the damn open.”

It was a tough lock, which was surprising for such a run-down, old motel; they were usually a lot easier than this to crack open. Maggie persevered, forcing the credit card into the gap with a masterful wiggle.

Dean argued back, “you’re slow, and you’re weak, and you’re not thinking ten steps ahead. You’re a freaking liability right now and I don’t have the time to be playing search and rescue every time something goes down.”

She found the sweet spot, and with a glorious click, the motel room door opened. She stepped inside, a satisfied grin curling the corners of her full lips upwards. Who needed a key card?

Within a matter of milliseconds, Maggie was staring down the barrels of two handguns — locked and loaded with two ring-cladded fingers hovering over the triggers. Two mean glares stared her down. Sam and Dean. She merely cocked her head to the side as a lopsided smirk swept across her fair features. She teased, “don’t you boys know it’s rude to point your gun at a lady?”

“Yeah?” Dean shot back with a surly attitude, “let me know when you find one.” He stood down, easily slipping the gun back into the waistband of his scuffed-up jeans.

She pouted playfully in response.

“Maggie,” Sam addressed her. His voice was significantly softer, almost breath-like, as he raked over her with guilt-ridden eyes. He followed suit and stood down. He nonchalantly threw his loaded weapon onto the half-made bed before looking back at the petite brunette before him. Sam wasn’t sure what else to say; in fact, he wasn’t sure that there was anything he could say to make the tension dissipate. Maggie May was going to hold a grudge for as long as Maggie May pleased.

“Sam.” Her chestnut eyes scoured over him in return. They started at the very top — taking in his long, mahogany locks. They were longer, but more kempt. He was wearing a new flannel shirt; she’d never seen him in a flannel of that colour. He still wore the worn, leather watch that his dad had given him, but it was set ever so slightly fast. The jeans were new too. There were no scuffs or rips, but the boots were worn in and old. She returned her gaze upwards and met his eyes for a brief second.

Then, she looked away. Her eyes caught the elder Winchester brother and immediately illuminated with a spark of relief. She let go of the leather handles and let her duffle bag drop to the floor with a soft thud. She took a step towards him, and then another, before wrapping her arms around his neck. Maggie held him tight, nuzzling her nose into the crook of his neck as she stood on the tips of her toes.

“Dean.” His name was quiet and mumbled, almost as if she didn’t quite believe that he was there. She took a long breath, inhaling the familiar scent of his deep amber cologne. God, she had missed that smell.

A reticent laugh slipped from between his chapped lips. He placed a gentle kiss into her messy wisps and mumbled — the words quiet, as if they were ever only meant for her to hear, “Maggie Mayhem.” His burly arms wrapped around her slender figure and held her into his body just as tight. The palm of his hand laid flat against the bottom of her back, slipped beneath the hem of her leather jacket, and the pad of his thumb carefully stroked back and forth.

Realising the vulnerability that had clouded her voice, she steeled herself and mocked, “when are you finally going to stay dead? This is what— the third time now? Obituaries are expensive, you know.”

“I’ll write you a cheque for your losses,” another husky chuckle rumbled through his chest, unphased by her teasing.

Maggie felt Dean’s grip loosen around her and him begin to pull away. She wasn’t quite ready to let him go just yet, and instinctively held him tighter. She’d missed him — she’d missed that orbital high that came with his attention, his touch; and her damaged soul most definitely needed the recharge. It had been a long, emotional rollercoaster of a year without him. A few more seconds wouldn’t hurt. “Not yet,” she told him.

Dean simply relaxed — resting his chin atop her head and allowing her to melt into the warmth of their embrace. His hand dropped to her hip and leisurely hooked itself into the beltloop of her fitted jeans. He gave it a tender tug, covering the black string of her thong. He felt the tickling brushes of her eyelashes against his neck as she rolled her eyes in typical Maggie May fashion.

Sam merely watched on awkwardly. Him and Maggie were as close as two best friends could be, but they never quite reached the level that Maggie and Dean had; they were something different. What, he had no idea. It wasn’t his business, and neither of them were vulnerable enough to divulge anything like that to him. He’d never expected to receive the same greeting as Dean, but the frost-like look and the forced out of the weird uncomfortableness that hung over their friendship half-smiles made him feel a thousand miles away. He felt defeated, and tired.

Eventually, she retreated from his embrace feeling suitably secure. She left a small gap between their bodies and peered up at him, taking him in. His features were ever so slightly more weathered — framed by a dark but well-kept stubble. His lips were still full but dehydrated and his eyebrows untamed.

Dean frowned as he finally noticed the bruise that painted her cheek an unsightly shade of plum. “What happened to your face?” he questioned — his finger propping her chin upwards for him to gage a better look, and his thumb securing her in place.

Maggie rolled her eyes once more at the protective undertones, pulling out of his grip and turning her back to him. “It was just some stupid girl whose boyfriend couldn’t control his wandering eye, that’s all,” she shrugged her shoulders at the half-truth and retrieved her duffle bag from the floor, “she caught me off guard.”

“Hmm,” he hummed in response — not entirely believing her; Maggie May had a knack for finding trouble.

“So, uh—” Sam shoved a hand into the depths of his jean pockets, “—the case?”

Maggie stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, her chestnut eyes settling on her bare features. Her eyes were tired and heavy after the long drive to Oklahoma, and surrounded by two cushions of dark circles. Her skin was dull and fair, more than likely from the lack of natural sunlight that she had seen in the last God-knows-how-many months of crawling through bars and spending her days sleeping off hangovers in shady motel rooms. The mauve bruise that tarnished her cheek looked angry and painful — deepening as the blood settled and the tissue began to repair. Her busted lip was sore, aggravated by every slight movement she made. She looked like a ghost — physically and metaphorically; her vessel was very much present but there was no light behind her eyes, and no spark in her soul.

She continued to stare into her own reflection, meeting her own gaze in an intense battle under the harsh bathroom light; she was a mess, in every sense of the word. If she were to stand before her younger self, she wouldn’t have the slightest indication of who she was. Hell, she wouldn’t even recognise herself if she bumped into her from a year ago. All the years of being on the road, all the losses that she had felt, and all the rejection that she had faced had finally caught up to her — and it wasn’t a pretty sight, to say the least.

There came the ever-familiar waves of no self-worth again, hitting the solitude rocks of her self-esteem at full force.

She pulled a tube of antiseptic cream from the makeshift first aid kit. Squeezing a small dot onto her finger, she then dabbed it against the crusty cut on her lip, careful and tender with her touches. A quiet hiss involuntarily slipped between her lips as her dark eyebrows furrowed into a frown. The ointment burned as it seeped deeper into the cut.

Maggie turned her head and peered out of the open bathroom door. Dean was sat in the leather armchair — jean-clad legs manspread, a police report in one hand and a freshly-cracked bottle of beer in the other.  There was a pensive aura that surrounded him. His fingers gripped the beer bottle with a tightened grasp, and his jaw had locked, almost as if it was holding back a barrage of thoughts. He stared intently at the words printed on the page, yet never turned to the next. There was something on his mind.

She saw it as an in. A reason. An excuse.

Letting the half-used tube of ointment fall into the sink, Maggie wandered back into the bedroom space. She was quiet and soft in her movements — almost timid — until she reached Dean. His eyes remained fixed on the police report, and a pang of upset coursed through her; Maggie was used to commanding his attention — his heavy-lidded eyes falling naturally on her and feeling the heat of his stare.

Her bare knees fell either side of his body as she straddled his lap, the hem of the over-sized t-shirt exposing the glorious lengths of her thighs. With one swift motion, she’d stolen the freshly cracked bottle of beer from his grasp. Her lips twitched upwards into a smug, but angelic, smile as Dean raised his eyebrows at her questioningly. The bottle ghosted her full lips — the very tip of her tongue tracing the rim in an enticing circle as her chestnut eyes locked with his, before taking a long swing.

Dean watched attentively as Maggie had her fun, his eyes glued to her. She was so effortlessly seductive; everything about her — from the way her delectable thighs spread open in his lap, to the way her tongue ever so slowly traced around the bottle rim, and the way the thin fabric settled over her taut nipples and the piercing bars — exuded lust. Piercings? That was new.

His tongue dragged along his bottom lip in an effort to quench the thirst that had been awakened in him. Although, it barely scratched the surface. It had been a hell of a long time since his engines had been roaring, nevertheless had been taken for a test drive; he’d spent the last year wandering purgatory in survival mode, where he rarely ever found a second to breathe. Maggie May was well and truly testing his patience in that moment. And boy, did she know it…

He reached for the bottle, but it was promptly moved from his grasp.

Maggie stretched upwards, holding the half-empty bottle above her head, and peered down at him with a taunting glint in her eye. He reached once more — shifting himself into the most compromising position. He reached upwards once more, unintentionally pushing his crotch further against Maggie. Big mistake. She rolled her hips in a flirtatious retaliation, arching her back and pressing her clothed pussy against his lap.

It took every ounce of strength not to give in to her, but he did it. Dean remained steeled — the deep, husky groans that begged to be released begrudgingly shoved down into the very pit of his stomach, and his lips pressed into a thin line. He was semi-hard beneath her, pressing against the zipper of his jeans, as he placed his firm hand on her thigh. It was a gentle but commanding hold as his ring-cladded fingers slipped beneath the over-sized t-shirt and gripped the skin, his thumb rubbing tender back and forth patterns against the inside of her thigh.

“Maggie May,” he warned.

“Yes?” she cocked her head to the side innocently.

“Don’t start something we can’t finish.”

“Aw, cute—” she taunted with another leisurely roll of her hips, “—you don’t think you can make me cum.”

A fervent groan slipped from between his lips as his dick grew harder against the constraints of his jeans. His jaw tightened as his fingernails pressed crescent shapes into her skin, forcing her to be still. Choosing to ignore her teasing, he sent her a deathly glare — one that dared her to try that move again; it appeared to have worked as she relaxed her posture, sitting herself innocently on his erection and keeping still.

Placing the police report down on the wooden table, he gestured with his finger for her to return his beer.

Reluctantly, she handed it back, but not before she took another large gulp.

Dean took a swig of the now half-empty beer and allowed his fingertips to wander. His hand moved further up her thigh, his fingers catching and tangling themselves in the string of her thong. His thumb dragged ever so tenderly over the crease in her hips where legs bent, tracing back and forth motions. It was so instinctual, as though his hand gravitated towards there — like the soft dips in her skin were made for the palms of his hands.

Maggie stared down at him with sensual, umber eyes. Heavy-lidded and burning with a heat fuelled by the dopamine that coursed through her veins. This was it. This was Maggie in her element; enriched by the power of holding every last drop of his attention, alive and awakened by the electricity of his touch, and riding a high so orbital that her soul was one with the solar flares of the sun. She felt like herself again — full of confidence, and full of life.

“You finally got ‘em pierced then?” Dean mused with a questioning raise of his eyebrows and his gaze trained on her taut nipples. They pressed against the thin fabric of her over-sized t-shirt, practically on show for the whole world to see.

For a brief second, her eyes dropped to her breasts — following his. Then, she responded with an audacious smirk. “I sure did,” a low laugh slipped from between her lips, “wanna see?”

Dean tilted his head backwards as he repositioned himself in the chair. His hips shifted forwards and his shoulders slouched into the cushioned back of his chair. He tipped the bottle downwards and emptied it’s remaining contents in a slow and tactical swig. Of course he wanted to see. He was steeling himself; it truly had been a long time since he’d had any sexual gratification and the immediate flashes of her naked body above him — pierced tits bouncing playfully as she rode him under the warm, orange glows of the motel sconces — had sent him into an oblivion. Maggie May was becoming harder and harder to resist.

He somehow managed to remain calm, dowsing the fire in the pit of his stomach with his beer and plastering an unfaltering poker face across his features. That was until he felt his dick harden and strain against his zipper, giving him away.

Maggie felt it too and responded with another leisurely roll of her hips. A devilish glint occupied her eyes as her smirk grew wider. Damn, that girl would be the death of him one way or another.

“Those daddy issues got you well and good, haven’t they?” Dean retorted. He placed the empty beer bottle on the table.

“Uh huh—” she agreed with a sardonic grit to her words, “—my daddy didn’t love me enough so now I need men twice my age to tell me how good my tits look to get me through the day.” She leant forwards, back arched, and pouted her full lips. “Either tell me how good my tits look or take it up with Andrew. If you can find him.”

Hooking his finger beneath the hem of her shirt, his beer-soaked breath fanned against her face. “You’re every therapist’s wet dream.”

“Glass houses, Winchester.” She paused for a second as the pad of her finger traced his jawline. The coarse hairs of his stubble sent a shiver running down her spine. “I’ll book a couples session—” she dropped her hand, “—and we can both hash out our Daddy demons. Maybe then we’ll finally stop playing this silly, little game with each other and fuck for real.”

She wasn’t far wrong. In fact, she’d hit the nail flat on its head. Whilst Maggie’s father was an absentee who had rejected her in every possible way that he could find, Dean’s father had placed unrealistic expectations and responsibilities on him from a young age. Both carried the burdens of their father’s parenting styles, or lack thereof; both would very much benefit from a professional listening ear and some advice on how to form healthy adult relationships. But, alas, they were here.

“Now, hold up—” Dean’s tone was thick and gravelly as he began lifting the hem of her shirt with his finger, “—let’s not fix what ain’t broke. Show me them pretty, pierced titties.”

Maggie pulled her t-shirt up, holding it in place and revealing her bare breasts. Her nipples were a delicious rose colour and tightened into little buds as the silver bars pierced between them.

He dragged his tongue along the length of his bottom lip again, admiring the sight before him. And what a sight she was. His finger ran slowly underneath the waistband of her baby pink thong. Yes, baby pink thong with a sweet, satin bow in the very middle of the waistband. That had surprised him; Dean had never pinned her down as being a pink and frilly bows type of woman. He’d always thought of her as red and black lace. Nevertheless, the way the fabric fit her body so perfectly still made his skin burn and his mouth run dry.

With a gentle tug, he pulled the string up over her hipbone and let it sit. He then traced her skin upwards — lackadaisical with his movements. The calloused pad of his finger brushed over a scar that tainted her stomach. An old, healed over stab wound. His touch was tender as he sketched the outline of her silhouette, until eventually landing on her breasts. He cupped her boob with his warm palm and allowed his thumb to ghost over her poised nipple.

She let out a jagged breath at the contact.

Dean found his rhythm, circling his thumb over her sensitive bud and rolling it between his fingers.

“Ohhhh.” Maggie let out a breathy moan as she rolled her head backwards. It was an involuntary reaction that she couldn’t stop even when channelling every ounce of might that she had; it was carnal and deep-rooted within her. As was rocking her hips back and forth in a slow and salacious cadence. She was acting on pure instinct and throwing absolute caution to the wind — acutely aware that neither had dared to venture this far with one another.

Dean sat forwards, his now moist lips almost instantly finding her other nipple. His tongue traced a slow circuit around her sensitive bud before his teeth nibbled ever so gently. He sucked, and licked, and nipped to his heart’s content — spurred on by the lustful whines and breathy moans that spilled, one after the other, from between her lips.

She reached her hands between them, her voluptuous hips coming to a gradual stop, and fiddled with the button of his jeans. It was hard to undo them one-handed — the angle was awkward and the old, metal button was stiff — but she managed. Her dainty fingers slipped inside, palming his erection through his boxers until his rugged breaths didn’t send shivers jolting down her spine. She wanted more; she wanted to hear the strangled, husky moans that crawled from the very depths of his throat as they made skin on skin contact.

Maggie pulled his hardened dick from the constraints of his boxers and curled her fingers around his length. She pumped him up and down, revelling in his grunts and groans. They vibrated against her delicate skin and sent shockwaves of electricity through her body — right down to the very tips of her fingers and toes. This was it. This was Maggie at the very peak of her orbital high; she was sat atop the world, spinning aimlessly with the constellations and soaking in the vibrant solar flares of the sun. She was as high as she had ever been, and she wasn’t sure she was ever going to come down from this point. She was lost to the cosmos.

She peeled back the fabric of her damp thong and positioned herself above him. The tip of his dick leaked with pre-cum as it ghosted over her folds — coating himself in her slick.

Then, as he found her entrance, the unmistakable roar of his 1967 Chevy Impala engine sounded throughout the motel room. Maggie whipped her head towards the window — the blaring headlights blinding her, even through the old, dust-covered curtains. It was Sam. With almighty impeccable timing.

She swiftly turned back to face Dean, who had begrudgingly detached himself from her breasts, and looked down at him. A pained expression contorted her blush-tinged features as she let her panties go and stood from the chair. She took a step backwards, then another, and another, until she found the cheap quilt of the bed. She sat down and clamped her thighs together — eyes dazed and her core utterly aching for the man before her.

Dean stood from the chair and tucked himself back into his boxers. His jeans remained unbuttoned and loose around his hips. He dragged a hand through his dishevelled hair as his chest heaved up and down. “I’m gonna…” he nodded towards the bathroom as his words fizzled out, his sentence incomplete.

All Maggie could do was nod in understanding and watch as he disappeared into the bathroom, the door closing swiftly behind him. Her breaths remained heavy as she struggled to calm herself down — her cheeks still stained vermillion and her temperature almost feverous. The sound of the water running flooded the motel room.

Shit. There came that rapid descent back down to Earth.

[word-wytch]

Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 16

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 16/? 9k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ Frustrated by inconclusive endings, Eddie takes a seat behind the wheel. 

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, true love, smut (18+ mdni), internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

✏︎ Chapter CW: general angst, paternal angst, drug mention

Thursday, December 12th 1985

Before the first morning bell, Eddie gave Judy at reception his best impression of Wayne over the phone. He wasn’t totally lying, he was in fact, quite sick. Sick of all the taunting looks from meathead jocks. Sick of the way Ms. O’Donnell cleared her throat every five minutes. Sick of waking up so goddamn early. Sick of wasting his time. So after hanging up the phone, he stuffed a few essentials in his backpack and made for the door. 

Like clockwork, Wayne always came home at around 8:10 AM, and though it would be far from the first time he’d skipped school, Eddie would rather not have to explain himself. Besides, he could use a change of scenery. There was no denying winter anymore, the ice he scraped off his windshield made sure to remind him. On a typical hooky day he would drive down to Lover’s Lake and toss open the rear doors, catch a breeze, light a joint, sit back and take in the ripples on the water and the rustling leaves. But that had all frozen over, so unless he intended to burn through his whole tank of gas, he would need to get creative. 

That was how he found himself at Benny’s at 7:58 on a Thursday morning, setting up camp in a booth at the back of the restaurant. He ordered his usual — bacon, scrambled eggs, and a stack of pancakes in addition to white toast. Tossing his fourth emptied sugar packet beside the leaning tower of creamers, he sat back in the sticky, padded seat and took his first deep breath all morning. 

The diner was bustling lowly, a handful of regulars perched on silver, spinning stools at the bar. From the frosted window leeching cool air beside him, he watched the funeral procession of headlights down Washington under a mournful sky. Just another day for the upright citizens of Hawkins, Indiana. From his cozy booth, Eddie sipped the top off his very full mug and smiled to himself. 

Sprawling his belongings around the piping hot plates, he popped on his headphones, cracked open his monster manual, and got to work. The first hour flew by like his pencil across the graph paper. Between the bacon bits that had leapt from hand to page, a formidable lineup of foes was taking shape. Bottom line; the boys were in for a world of hurt tomorrow. He did his best to resign the grease to the flimsy napkins, but by the time he was finished, syrup tacked the gargoyle and gorgon pages together. 

“Anything else I can grab for ya besides the check?” Sheri—according to her name tag—asked with a tired lean as she reached to clear his plates. 

Eddie glanced down sheepishly at his freshly topped off mug. “I uh, think I might be staying for lunch.”

Sheri forced a hot pink smile, catching the fork with her decorated finger when it threatened to slide off the plate. “Y’ want me to get a room set up for you too?” she joked with a wink of her spidery lashes. “Just teasin’ sweetie. You just flag me down when you’re ready.”

Switching out his tapes, Eddie shut the cassette player and stared out the window as the men at the bar tossed their napkins and fished out their wallets. Snow was falling in lazy clumps, clinging to his windshield. Somewhere behind the overcast clouds, the sun was rising steadily. It was dismal, a fitting backdrop for the opening track of Black Sabbath’s Heaven and Hell. Of all the seasons, winter belonged to metal. Like it was made for cruising down a quiet, snow-covered street in the middle of nowhere. Made for drowning out Bing Crosby crooning from the speaker in the corner above him. Tinsel glittered on the small tree perched on a cloud of fake snow beside the cash register. Ornaments on swags swayed to the thump of footsteps passing. Eddie sighed and stared into the changing street lights.

Glancing at his watch he figured you were probably wrapping up the film with second period, knitting your brow and drawing your pen across the papers you were grading. He wondered what you’d think when the bell rang for fourth and you found his seat empty. Would you think he was upset with you? There was a small part of him that hoped so, and another part that hoped you would understand. After all, he was giving you the space you asked for, was he not?

Like a siren, your story—tucked between his notebook and the magazines he’d exhausted twice cover to cover—called to him. Cracking open the plastic spine, he dove headfirst into the typewritten pages.

For the whole narrow path into Rower’s End, Cybelle had sat in the front of the caravan, breathing the briny air unhindered by a barrier. Lazarus admired the brilliant fullness of her smile as she watched the seagulls soar overhead, under the clouds she had only ever seen from above. The sunlight had graced them then, beaming down in golden rays, glinting on the distant waves as they approached the sleepy seaside town. 

Eddie could feel the corners of his mouth tug as Lazarus regaled Cybelle with a story of a time when he’d accidentally taken a crab home with him after spending a day at the beach, followed by an explanation of what a crab was. Cybelle seemed delighted with the prospect of seeing one, even more-so when he told her how he’d discovered the little hitchhiker when it pinched his rear in bed that night. Eddie noticed the way Cybelle leaned closer whenever Lazarus told stories, the way her hand came to shield her bare face with a giggle when he mentioned his rear. The way her delicate, copper fingers lingered over the soft skin of his forearm when she checked beneath his bandage. The wound was healing nicely — no sign of infection and not a thorn in sight. She warned that it might scar, but Lazarus did not appear concerned—rather the opposite actually—as if a strange part of him was pleased with the idea of having something to remember her by. 

As they dipped over the final hill toward Rower’s End, Lazarus told her another story. A dream, rather, of a little cottage in Shantiglade with a full sized bed, and a garden, and a goose egg omelette big enough for two. A dream that would likely never come to pass. Cybelle seemed equally enchanted by it. Sitting back against the boxy, wooden seat of the caravan, she breathed in the salty air and imagined how good it would feel to do so every day. To experience the feeling of sand between her toes, of the ocean at her ankles, of propping her elbow against their shared kitchen table and gracing Lazarus with a naked smile before trying whatever an omelette was. It was good like this too — bumping along under a clear blue sky as Turnip plodded down the scarcely trodded path, watching the wind caress the wild grass and Lazarus’ even wilder curls, hearing his tales and his laughter.

Around the time he would be slumping into his desk in the back of your classroom, the bell dinged over the door of the restaurant. Eddie cranked the volume on his headset to drown out the chatter of a family of four clambering into the booth in front of him. The little boy had brought a pair of plastic drumsticks with him, beating a rhythm on the steel-rimmed table much to the annoyance of his little sister, who was clutching her book the way Eddie was yours. Dipping his few remaining fries into the smear of ketchup, he wondered why they weren’t in school on a Thursday afternoon. As he focused back on the type-written letters, he figured he should be the last to judge. 

Eddie felt for Lazarus, he really did. The way he looked at Cybelle as she emerged from the cave, cradling the ghostfern like a pale, translucent child. The scene was as beautiful as it was somber — waves lapping at the rocky shoreline as the setting sun cast its deep orange hues on both of them. The rocks—slick with algae—had Cybelle stumbling, but Lazarus was quick to offer his arm. She accepted without hesitance, clutching the plant like a bouquet as her deep earthen fingers braced the pale angles of his. He lead her down the cascading stone as if it were a chapel aisle, slow and steady until they reached the flat edge of the water. There—in the golden remains of the day—seagulls dipped and soared over the glittering ocean, clasped hands swayed in the lapping wind, and for a moment, they had everything they came for.  

After what seemed like both a small eternity and an aching second, it was Cybelle who broke away, tracing the ridges of his fingers as hers fell, stating out loud what both of them knew — that night was coming soon. 

The journey back to Torgaard proved easier than the journey out, at least in terms of natural foes. No fenfinks or villainous vines, but the sky seemed to hang much lower. Dark, stormy clouds loomed overhead, casting its pale grey light over the moss curtains outside of Fenwood, over the verdant  forests that shuddered in the gusting wind. There was a tension, a dread looming on the horizon that grew with each passing day. Even Eddie could sense it — the way Cybelle stared out into the swath of shifting green like she was attempting to soak up enough for the rest of her life. The way that Lazarus’ jokes were swallowed the creaking of the caravan. How nights that were once spent laughing over a roaring fire were now spent silently watching its crackling embers.

One day—just a few outside of Torgaard—the sky came crashing down. It sobbed in sheets, heavy enough to soak through Cybelle’s coat, to find the tear in her tent and make a lake of it. Lazarus ushered her inside the wagon, offered her a shirt that fit like a dress, offered to sleep on the floor. Assessing the size of the bed, and then the hard, narrow walking path, it was Cybelle who insisted they share it. She was small enough, or at least that was what she rationalized out loud. Lazarus did not argue. Her logic—unlike her tent—was water-tight. And so she climbed in between the soft linen sheets, tucked herself under the weight of the down blanket, and rested her damp, weary head on a pillow that smelled just like him.

Eddie glanced sheepishly around the restaurant, shielding the binder with his arm as Lazarus climbed in beside her. He hinged on each type-written word, lingering over the ones that stirred a fuzzy feeling. Written with careful attention to the way Lazarus’ chest rose and fell, how stiff their bodies were in hyper-awareness of the nearness to each other. How solid his shoulder felt under Cybelle’s cheek when the corner of pillow no longer sufficed. Slowly, they relaxed into the feeling. Not enough to sleep, but enough for Lazarus to free the arm that she was crushing. Enough to wrap it around her shoulder, to relish in the feeling of her cold nose in the warm crook of his neck.

It was good like this. Better when her fingers draped across the landscape of his pecks, felt his chest rise and fall like waves. Best when they awoke in the morning to the sun steaming in through the small, stained glass window above them. When their giggles shook the wagon. When their eyes met, closer than they’d ever been before. There, in the dim cocoon far outside the turning world, the smile that she had hidden for so long finally grew brave enough to capture his. And by the time they reached the towering stone walls of Torgaard, there was nothing more to hide from one another. 

Eddie flipped the page to find only a black, plastic pocket. He rubbed it with his fingers to make sure it wasn’t sticking to another. When it failed to separate, he sat back and fumed. That was it. There was no more. No ending, no closure.

Sheri leaned against the top of the booth seat opposite him, hand on her hip, shifting between her dirty white sneakers with a tired sigh. “Listen sweetie, I’ve got ten minutes left of my shift. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want, but I’ve gotta cash you out before I leave.”

Eddie glanced at his watch, almost 2:00. “Yeah—yeah, no problem. Sorry for the trouble.”

“’S no trouble, just the way it goes around here. Hope you enjoyed your stay,” she said with a wink as she dropped the check. 

After six hours and two meals, Eddie had gotten his fill of watching the world turn through an old, frosted window. His head was spinning enough on its own. With a frustrated huff he peeled his graph paper and manual away from the sticky table before shoving them into his backpack. Slugging it over his shoulder, he grabbed the grease-stained check and made his way to the register. That was when he noticed it — the lonely, half-eaten omelette on the bar.

“Alright that’ll be ten seventy-five,” chimed Sheri. 

Tinsel glittered on the tree. Red, metallic bulbs swayed in the echo of his footsteps. Judy Garland caroled on about a merry little Christmas and he wondered if your characters would ever enjoy anything over their shared kitchen table or if that dream would be abandoned for their duties as well.

“Sir?”

Snapping out of his trance, he fished for his wallet and palmed her a twenty. “Keep the change,” he muttered before turning toward the door with a hoist of his backpack.

Her jaw hung open. “Oh my word, are you serious?” she called to his back, but the bell above the door was the only answer she received.

______

Main Street Vinyls was a ghost town on a Thursday afternoon, and Eddie preferred it that way. Aside from Jerry at the counter, it was just him and his noisy thoughts, accompanied by the slow plod of his own heavy boots as they weeped against the carpet. At least in this store he could escape the onslaught of Christmas tunes. Jerry—old hippie that he was—at least had some sense. Sometimes even sense enough to play some halfway decent rock music, but today Eddie would settle for Neil Young over the jingle bell garbage blasting through every speaker in Hawkins.

Glancing down the rows of plastic cassette spines, Eddie perused the M section as he kicked himself for giving away almost ten dollars. There was an album by a new band he’d only read about in magazines called Megadeth. Turning the tape over in his hands, he examined the cover. Everything about it spoke to him — the skull with its mouth chained shut surrounded by knives and candles, the title — Killing Is My Business. Flipping it over to the back, the phrase continued in haunted red letters …and Business Is Good! 

The change he gave away in a fit of blind stupidity would have easily afforded it and left him with some to spare. With a bitter sigh, he shoved the tape back in its slot, knowing for a fact that the cash register at Benny’s had eaten the last bill he had in his wallet. Padding slowly down the aisle, he began his calculations. 

He had a few regular deals lined up this weekend but would need to dig into his “savings” in the bottom of an old tobacco tin and pay Rick a visit before any of that happened. He might make eighty bucks if he was lucky. Maybe eighty more over the course of the week between the deals at school. Nobody wanted to spend too much time outside this time of year, so the park bench location was always iffy depending on how bad it was. He would resort to other classic meetup spots, like under the bleachers or the back of his van. 

If he networked enough he might have some left over after helping Wayne with the bills. Scanning past the Tina Turner and T-Rex tapes, he wondered how much Wayne suspected about his little business. Surely he had to have some suspicion. Gig money, odd jobs, and oil changes for neighbors couldn’t possibly afford the kind of gear he had, or the ink in his skin, or the cash he contributed monthly. Wayne was sharp, and though he was no saint himself, he shuddered to think what he would say if he discovered his nephew was straying down the same path his brother took.

Peering back over his shoulder, he eyed the Megadeth tapes again—only three in stock—lined up like gifts wrapped in cellophane. They were such tiny things. Small enough to hide beneath his palm, to slide into the pocket of his coat with room to spare. Glancing up at the angled surveillance mirror in the corner of the store, he saw Jerry at the counter, humming obliviously as he stuck price tags on a fresh shipment of tapes. Over the tall shelf that separated them, he expected to meet his own eyes, but instead saw another man. A man he hadn’t seen in quite a while.

Eddie remembered finding a G chord for the first time; how big the fretboard felt in his small hand, how awkwardly his fingers had to stretch, how a larger set of hands had helped him find it. He earned a broad smile when the chord rang out, one he would search for again and again with every strum. 

Sometimes in the late evenings as he crept past Wayne with a lunchbox full of drugs while he was watching reruns of Bonanza on the couch, Eddie would tell himself that at least he wasn’t stealing cars, or drinking himself half to death, or rotting behind county bars. At least he was still in school, something Warren Munson couldn’t say even at sixteen. At least Eddie could say he was trying.

With a bitter shake of his head, he continued down the aisle, leaving the tapes behind for the record bins that lined the walls. Mindlessly he walked his fingers over the cardboard spines, glazing past titles he’d seen a dozen times. Nothing new. Nothing different. Few things ever were in Hawkins. Every day he’d wake up and slog himself to a different type of prison, sit in a classroom for eight hours and actively feel his brain rotting. He would crumple up his failed tests and shove them in his backpack, endure the stares from kids whose parents cared enough to give them a ride to school, day after day. And every day he would come home and see the twinge of pride on Wayne’s face for the fact that he’d gone at all.  

There were a few perks to sticking around, like running his club, and saving lost sheep, and seeing his friends everyday. Like having a swath of potential customers all in one place. It was safe and familiar, like a cage. His little business might be dangerous and criminal but at least it could afford him one thing he valued even more than ink or gear — freedom. Time, for another thing. Flexibility. It sure as hell beat making three dollars an hour flipping burgers or having to answer to some corporate boot-licker telling him what to do. Eddie huffed sharply, wondering what you would think if you knew. You, with your tightly buttoned blouses and endless patience. You, the very last person he wanted to disappoint. 

The last look he’d seen on you destroyed him when he thought about it; the pain in your eyes and bitter line your pretty lips became. You were just about the only reason he had left to show up to class anymore, and now that was getting in the way of the one thing that actually had potential in his eyes. Way more potential than a stupid piece of paper that says, congratulations, you’re a real member of society and not a complete disappointment. 

You had asked him a question back when you’d first made the arrangement to help him, one that rattled around in his brain ever since. Why did he want to graduate? If his memory served him, he’d given a relatively bullshit answer: to prove all the assholes in this god-forsaken purgatory wrong. It still held a fair amount of truth, but when he glanced up at the surveillance mirror again and saw himself this time, the real answer was abundantly clear. But was proving a point worth the risk of losing you?  

The smell of cardboard and cellophane kissed his face as air puffed between each record falling forward. Each a different picture, some repeats of the same. Rock gods wielding wicked weapons, bathed in holy stage lights somewhere in New York or Los Angeles probably. Somewhere important. Sometimes at the Hideout he would close his eyes and imagine he was on one of those stages, but when he would open them as the last note rung out, it was always the same — just Bill and Drunk Sam, maybe a couple of bikers perched at the bar with their backs to him. Empty stools and sticky tables. A weak applause.

Eddie stepped back from the record bin with a heavy sigh and glanced at his watch. He’d killed about thirty minutes in this store, which meant he had at least twenty more before he could return home without triggering Wayne’s suspicious questions. The walls were starting to close in around him — posters like windows into a world far out of reach. Every million dollar strum reverberating through the speakers like a mocking reminder. With a half-hearted wave to Jerry stocking shelves, he left the store. Empty handed. 

The drive down Randolph was always dismal, especially in the bleak winter light. Storefronts with yellowing signs that hadn’t changed in twenty years selling mattresses and televisions. A gas station with a rusted awning, dusted with snow. Architecturally speaking, the church was about the most interesting building, but only because it was brick and made up of more than just four flimsy walls. Even that was being generous though. The most exciting thing to happen to Hawkins since the housing development over by Factory Lane thirty years ago was the shopping mall that opened this past summer. Thrilling. 

No matter where he drove within a fifty mile radius, it was all the same — a tomb where dreams went to die. 

Gripping the steering wheel, he watched the car in front of him make grooves in the dirty slush, hypnotized by the spray off the sides of the tires. It wasn’t until he saw the high school approaching in his peripherals that he even looked up. It always felt good to be on the other side, especially when he wasn’t supposed to be. He could almost see you in there; brushing the chalk off your hands, shifting between your tired feet as you glanced at the clock, gazing out the window with a longing he’d seen in his own reflection — caught sometimes at night in his drivers seat window as he cruised the highway, dreaming of where it could take him. 

As the squat fortress faded in his rearview mirror, he pictured you five years from now. Ten. Twenty. Wasting away in front of that chalkboard. Rattling on about stories written by dead people while your own collected dust inside a closet. While your talent withered like the dead, crumpled leaves under the snow; buried and forgotten. 

With a hard right onto Prospect, he set out on the final stretch towards home. Sometimes he liked to imagine what might happen if he just kept going, just drove into the sunset and only stopped for gas. He had a vague idea from the movies and the maps that swayed in the wake of Ms. O’Donnell’s lumbering footsteps. Sometimes in the height of his boredom he would lose himself in them, imagine he was at a diner in the desert on his way to a gig with an actual sound system. Because somewhere out there—beyond the flat horizon—there were mountains, and canyons, and cities where names couldn’t follow. 

______

“How does it end?” Eddie asked you on Friday between the fourth and fifth period bells. You glanced up from the stack of papers on your desk, cocking your head with narrowing eyes. “Your story,” he clarified.

“Oh.” Blinking, you sat back to ponder. “You know, I don’t think I ever fully decided. Cybelle is in a difficult position. The whole reason she set out on this adventure was to save her brother. I imagine she would want to fulfill her quest, but if she returned to Myrne, it may be difficult to leave again. Plus, she may receive some sort of punishment for leaving in the first place. I had written the laws to be quite strict, if I recall. And then if she chose not to return, her mother would lose two children. No matter what, she loses.” 

Eddie furrowed his brow, shifting between his boots with a pained sigh. “I would hardly call a life with Lazarus losing. She seems happy with him.”

“Right, well, of course that would be ideal, but…” you tsked, “it’s complicated, and honestly that’s partially why I abandoned it. I really wrote myself into a corner. Well, that and student teaching started to eat up my time. Then it was finals, and moving, and then after that I met…” you trailed off with a bitter shake of your head. “Anyway, I guess life got in the way. It has a way of doing that, I’ve noticed.” 

Eddie looked at you, really looked. You, in your cable knit sweater with pen on your hand and sandbags under your eyes, casting them down over your work with the same amount of hope he’d seen from players rolling threes with even fewer hit points to spare. He racked his brain for something he could offer—a dramatic death speech or a new character sheet—but you weren’t playing and he wasn’t prepared. Any words of comfort forming on the tip of his tongue were swallowed by the ringing bell, and he exited your classroom feeling the same as when he entered; unsatisfied. 

______

It was starting to close in around you — the colored lights and ornaments, the mall Santas and fake green swags draping from shop windows. It was the first Christmas you’d truly spent in Hawkins since you graduated college, outside of day trips for visits. Surprisingly little had changed, the main thing being the fact that there even was a mall for Santa to post up in. Duplication must have been one of his many powers because he was still at Sears too, at least he was on Saturday when you dragged yourself out of the oppressive quiet of your apartment and into the bustling chaos. 

You had no idea what to get your relatives for Christmas. You never really did, but this year it seemed insurmountable. This year you had no one to bounce ideas off of, and the constant mental chatter left little to no room for inspiration. As you scanned the shelves of cookware and appliquéd dish towels with snow men and reindeers, nothing really seemed to jump out at you.

What did jump out at you—or rather, jumped out at his sister—was a little boy across the aisle hiding in a circular rack of women’s bath robes. Pressing apart the terrycloth like curtains, he would retreat into his makeshift cave to the complete oblivion of his mother, who seemed more preoccupied with the price tags on a set of lingerie than with the whereabouts of her children.

A fantasy tugged at the corners of your mind, more sinfully indulgent than the one you had in class last week involving your desk and Eddie’s tongue. This time the set was the same as the scene before you, only the little boy had a mess of dark curls and Eddie was diving in after him. Not to scold him, but to play. You could almost see those fraying knee holes widening from contact with the carpet. Almost hear the giggles and the shushes and the click of his rings against the metal pole in the center of the rack for balance. You could almost turn around and see them popping out at you, feel the laughter ripple up through your very full belly and into the corners of your eyes as you feigned surprise to both of their delight. You could almost feel the glares from the other shoppers, the regular people eager to get on with their Saturday in peace, same as any other. It wouldn’t matter though, not in your little world.

The real mother in the real world did eventually turn around, grabbing the boy by the wrist and demanding he stay by the cart. Turning a dish towel over in your palms, you lowered your eyes to the machine-embroidered stitching of a corn cob pipe and a button nose as the fantasy disintegrated. You left the store shortly after, your cart just as empty as when you’d arrived. 

On Monday it was hard to look him in the eyes. It was easier to meet Diane’s. At least this week you could hold a conversation without crumbling like Ms. Click’s half-eaten fruitcake up for grabs in the teachers lounge. But the coffee was bitter on your tongue, like a lie you were telling yourself. 

In accordance with your wishes, there had been no rap of knuckles on your door frame after school, no screeching of chair legs dragged across the tile, only the dull thud of folders sliding into your bag, the surprising click of a magnet under the flap. 

On Wednesday you left behind footprints in the parking lot before it had even half cleared, only to be swallowed by the emptiness of your apartment. You filled the space with what you could manage — an early dinner, and an early bedtime. Sleep seemed to be the only thing that quelled the battering ram thoughts, the scales tipping back and forth so much it made you queasy. You would lie there and dream of swirling smoke and plush lips, of arthritic fingers punching numbers on an office phone as you sat and accepted your fate. You would toss and turn, back and forth until your sheets became a tangle, and when you faced the mirror Thursday morning you barely recognized the person staring back. 

When the final bell rang on Friday, the hallways cleared out like someone had yelled fire. A mass exodus of students and staff, flowing into the parking lot like a tidal wave outside your classroom window. You watched them as snow fell in clumps, as bright colored backpacks disappeared into the back of sedans, as cars peeled out like a parade into the street. 

Assessing the paper mountain range framing your desk, you made an educated guess at how you would be spending your two week break. In hindsight, it might have helped to make the due date for the senior creative writing project last Friday instead, but deep down you knew you would have hardly made a dent by now. 

When Ms. Click popped her head in to wish you a merry Christmas on her way down the hall, she seemed surprised to find your hand still moving across paper, not swaddled in mittens like hers. You brushed it off with something casual, the type of thing any regular person would say before the holidays. That it was too much to take home. That getting work finished now would leave more time with your family. You omitted the more personal details like how empty your apartment felt and the small, naked tree your mother brought over last weekend. This seemed to placate her, and with a cheery wave she left you in the silence of your classroom with only the ruffling of paper for company.

It was eery how quiet it was, but it afforded you a small hill of graded papers in the last hour, double what you would typically accomplish in front of the television. Thumbing through what remained of that stack, you counted each staple. Five, six, seven… you stopped when a certain name jumped out in MLA format. 

Eddie Munson American Literature — 4th Period 20 December 1985

No title. 

Papers fluttered to the desk as they fell from your hands, leaving only his. You held it gingerly between your fingers, as if it was alive. As if it could feel you, or rather, you could feel him through every type-written letter, through the thumb-sized grease stain in the top righthand corner. You could almost hear him too, shifting into a deep, dramatic narration.

Mount Myrne loomed on the horizon like a dark omen. Towering over the bustling docks of Torgaard, it disappeared beneath the ominous clouds with a formidable presence. Merchants scattered about, hauling their wares in heavy crates and barrels onto the many zeppelins. 

This was where Lazarus first met Cybelle. In his mind’s eye he could almost see her stumbling about in her clean silk boots and glimmering gold coat. But her appearance today told a different tale. Her boots were caked with mud, her coat was splattered with muck and tattered by claws, her mask hung crooked on her face. Those large eyes that once glimmered with hope and wonder now stared off into the distance with oppressive sadness at the looming mountain. 

This was where he was supposed to leave her. This was what they had agreed upon many moons ago. Cybelle just stood there, shifting back and forth between her tired feet as she dug her thumbs under the straps of her heavy knapsack that now held the rare and precious ghostfern. She finally had what she came for. Any moment now she would be moving those muddy boots toward the docks and use what little coin she had to barter a one-way trip back home.

That was the plan anyway..

Cybelle was frozen though. Fearfully, woefully, bitterly, she gazed upon her gold gleaming home in the sky with a sadness that was only dwarfed by Lazarus looking down at her. He looked at her beautiful face like it was the last time he was ever going to get the chance to. He memorized it in his mind as he shuffled his own dirty boots against the cobblestone. He didn’t have eyes for anything else. Not the zeppelins, nor the merchants, nor the mountain. Only her. After a moment that felt like an eon, Cybelle took a step forward.

“Wait.” said Lazarus. Cybelle turned around with surprise but also a hint of relief. “You don’t have to do this.”

Cybelle looked up at him with a mournful frown. “Of course I do, my brother will die if I stay here.”

Lazarus shook his head bitterly. “No, he will die if the ghostfern stays here.” he said.

Cybelle sighed as she looked out across the docks, “But how is it going to get there if I do not deliver it? No one is allowed within the city walls if they are not from Myrne.”

Lazarus furrowed his brow as he watched the merchants at work, hauling their wares aboard the large, formidable aircrafts. Suddenly he had an idea. “There are docks in Myrne, correct? And Myrnish merchants who take goods into the city?”

The gears were starting to turn in Cybelle’s head. “Yes, there are.”

“Well then, can we send the plant with like, a note or something? Some instructions and directions for the merchant to take where it needs to go?”

Cybelle thought for a moment. “I do know a few of the merchants by name. Arturo and I grew up together. He was my neighbor for a long time. He would know where it needs to go, and my mother would know what to do with it.” The brightness in Cybelle’s eyes dimmed suddenly as she had another thought. “But… I would never seen them again. My family.”

“Never say never, Cybelle.” Lazarus said. “Do you know that for a fact?”

Cybelle frowned heavily, “The laws in Myrne are very strict.”

“What if in the letter you told your family to meet you on the docks some other time? Perhaps in another moon or two once your brother has recovered?” Lazarus offered.

Cybelle sighed bitterly, “Only merchants are allowed on the docks. It is strictly prohibited. I was only able to come here because I snuck inside a crate. It was a miracle that they didn’t notice me.”

Lazarus kicked a stray pebble and huffed. There was a long pause before he spoke again. “I cannot tell you what to do, Cybelle. Only you can make that choice. But what I can do, really the only thing I can do, is tell you how I feel.” 

All of a sudden there was a knot in his stomach. Because if he was going to say anything he knew that this would be his last chance.. 

“All my life I’ve dreamed about that cottage by the sea with the garden, and the bed, and the omlet. When I saw that pendant you were wearing I knew that it would be my only shot at ever getting what I wanted. Magic tricks are….. not exactly lucrative. And actually, if I’m going to be totally honest here, I figure you should know the truth about me. The whole truth.” Lazarus sighed, swallowing the bile creeping up his throat at the mention of the truth. He was going to be honest though. Maybe for once in his whole life. “This is difficult for me to say, but I owe it to you if nothing else. I’m a thief, Cybelle.” 

Lazarus winced at his own words and Cybelle’s fallen expression, but he bravely continued..

“I confess that for a moment when I first saw you I thought about stealing that pendant, but once I heard your story and saw so much of my own I simply couldn’t. There is a goodness in you that I admire, how selfless and pure your cause is. Over the course of the last few moons I have had the privilege of spending with you, I have come to discover how beautiful the woman beneath the mask truly is. How kind, and curious, and patient you are. I have been all over this land. Traveled far and wide, through forests and over mountains. I have swam in lakes and oceans and gazed out over countless valleys. But never has the world looked quite so hopeful than when I saw it through your eyes. It made me believe that if you could see the beauty there, if you could see the goodness in me, then perhaps I can as well.”

It was startling — the tear that leapt over your lash line. Violently enough to hit the page, to blur the Os in goodness. 

“If you choose to stay I promise you that I will never steal another coin or pocket watch. It may leave me poor for the rest of my days but if they’re spent with you, then I would be the richest man of all. It is all that I can offer you. My honesty, and a promise that I will show you more beaches, more mountains, more of the world than you could ever imagine. And since I intend to keep my promise, here is my honesty: I love you. Regardless of what you decide.” 

With a trembling hand, you turned the page only to discover there was nothing on the back. Sitting back in your seat with a ragged sigh, you stared out into your empty classroom. Your nose stung, fluorescents flaring in your tear-blurred vision. Separating the pages with your thumb, you flipped back and read it again. The last paragraph. The last two sentences. Those three type-written words. Over and over, wedging in the cracks of your armor as your sniffles echoed off the tile. 

The sun was dipping below the treeline, flooding the near-empty parking lot with a wash of somber pink. The snowfall had ceased, settled into the footprints and tire tracks. Glancing up at the clock and back down at the papers, you tried to imagine lifting another, scanning over sentences and writing in the margins like you hadn’t been completely upended by the one that trembled in your grasp. You couldn’t. 

Tears dripped down your cheeks as you donned your coat, as you shuffled overstuffed folders into your satchel and slung its weight over your shoulder. You swiped at them with your scratchy wool sleeve, flicking off the lights and shutting the door.

The soft pink had cooled to twilight blue when your boots met the blanket of snow, leaving tracks in the clean, fresh powder. Your breath trailed behind you in heavy clouds. It was quiet here too, barely a scattering of cars in the parking lot. Not even the wind disturbed the limbs of the orderly saplings between the curb and sidewalk, dusted with a glittering powder. 

Your hands found your keys, and the key found the hole, and soon you were sliding into your frigid leather seat, tossing the weight of your satchel on the passenger’s side with a dejected thump. You sat there a moment with only your breath for company before flicking your wrist at the ignition. 

Nothing.

Stomping on the break, you lurched forward with conviction this time, as if you could convince it you were serious. All it awarded you was a weak, persistent click. It’s fine, you told yourself through gritted teeth as you lunged again, snapping your wrist with a startling anger, like the seal had been cracked on a two liter pop bottle that had rolled around in the trunk for a week and a half. Still, nothing but a pathetic click. A split second thought crossed your mind—that the ferocity of your stomp might actually damage the car—but the logic was quickly snuffed out by your rage. The hard plastic key bit into your numb fingers. Over and over — stomping, twisting, cursing. Cursing yourself most of all for being stupid enough to let this continue for months. You were paying for it now. 

The tears were already waiting, primed behind your eyeballs, hardly dried on your cheeks when you left out the back door. They spilled over again, cooling as they dripped past your lashes, down the slope of your nose. One more time, you begged. Just one more time and I’ll be good, I swear. But the white Chevy Nova sat unmoved, offering only a vacant whine where there should have been a roar. You tossed back in your seat and huffed, chest heaving, filling the cramped space with the furious steam of your breath. 

Snowflakes glittered in the floodlights, shining like flares through the blur of your tears. It might have been beautiful on any other evening — one where the engine was warm, and your mind was clear, and your heart didn’t sink like a pit in your chest. It was hard to notice anything outside your bitter sobs, most especially the shadow that appeared in the window beside you. The rap of rings on the glass had you jumping, whipping your head to face the set of eyes you’d been avoiding most of all. 

“Need some help?” Eddie offered, bracing his knees in a crouch, eyes brimming with concern. 

Your stomach twisted with relief, then embarrassment, then a million other things rolled into one, sick knot. Wiping the evidence from your cheeks with a futile swipe of your sleeve, you cranked down the window with your left hand. You must have looked like an absolute basket case, jerking your arm in tight circles as the barrier lowered with the urgency of a tortoise. When where was enough space for him, Eddie braced against the top of your door and ducked his head inside. 

“Hey.” The warm sigh of his greeting kissed your cheek, thawing the sting of the cold. 

“Hey,” you mimicked, sounding just about as stable as you felt when it came out. “W-what are you doing here so late?” 

“Hellfire,” he stated simply. “You know, I could ask you the same question.”

Despite how true it was, it still felt pathetic when the answer left your lips. “Just… trying not to take so much work home with me.” You said it as casually as you could muster, but your voice betrayed you. Your cheeks were still cooling from the remnants of your tears, framing the heat from your dripping nose. 

Eddie suddenly looked very serious, splintering your armor with his softness. “You ok?” 

You gestured dejectedly at nothing, offering a hollow laugh. “No.”

Eddie filled the cabin with his sigh, eyes narrowing like he wanted to lunge through the window. Instead he just thumbed at the rubber and tipped his head closer, creaking your chest plate with the weight of his gaze. “You know, I could hear you clear across the parking lot,” he joked softly. “The car—I mean. Mostly. You leave your lights on or something?”

You shook your head. “It’s been doing this for months, ever since it started getting cold. I should have taken it to get checked out, but it usually starts after a couple tries.” 

“Sounds like it might be the battery, or maybe the starter. I won’t know unless I try and jump it. I’ll swing around—if—if that’s ok.” 

The wind ushered a curl toward his lips, and you clenched your hand to subdue it. “Yeah, it’s ok,” you sighed. “Thank you.”

With a nod, Eddie ducked out of the window and pivoted swiftly on his heels. From your side view mirror, you watched him make tracks in the blue snow with his heavy boots, hands shoved in his pockets as he glanced left and right, the ghost of his breath trailing closely behind. The seat creaked as you sat back and blinked like the cursor on a computer monitor; processing. One glance in your rearview mirror told you how disheveled you looked. Even in the twilight there was no masking the puffiness around your eyes, the mascara bleeding toward your cheeks. You swiped at them again, this time with a napkin from your glove box.

With a yank of the frigid handle, Eddie slid across the plaid and pleather padding into the drivers seat of his van. He froze for a second, glancing in his rearview mirror toward your small white sedan. Butterflies tore through his stomach, churning like a tornado as he flicked the ignition. Out of all his ridiculous fantasies, he hadn’t entertained this one. Not exactly anyway. One where you were the damsel in distress. One where he got to be the hero. 

The parking lot was vacant enough to drive across the lines. Ploughing through the naked patches where cars had spent the afternoon, he rumbled up beside you. Your stomach did a summersault when he stepped out, plodding around to the front of your car with jumper cables slung under his arm. 

“Can you pop the hood for me?” he asked.

The summersault rippled south through your abdomen. Reaching down under the console, your fingers found the leaver and obeyed. You felt kind of useless, just sitting there while he propped the hood onto the stand, shielding him from vision. Before you could form another thought, your hand was moving on its own, finding the plastic leaver of your door and opening it to the cold evening air. 

Eddie gave a shy look from behind his curtain of curls before stepping back with a nod. “Well, good news, there’s no monsters,” he joked. 

A smile cracked across your face, so genuine it almost felt foreign. You tucked your hands into your pockets, stepping closer to assess the engine like you knew what you were looking at. Your aura prickled with proximity, like his heat could thaw you even from where you stood. Eddie’s glance was soft and quick before procuring a small flashlight from his inner coat pocket. He held it in his teeth, flipping up the red and black plastic covers on the battery terminals. 

“I have hands too, you know,” you said with a smirk.

With a playful side-eye, he clamped the appropriate cables onto the terminals. Removing the silver torch from his mouth, he made room for his retort. “Mmhm, best keep ‘em warm. It’s uh, kinda chilly out.”

You shook your head as a laugh escaped your nostrils in a plume. Sauntering over to his van like a dark knight, Eddie leaned in the door to pop his own hood. Your boots made tentative tracks in the snow, drawn like a magnet as he hoisted the metal. From the light pinched in his teeth you could see the expanse of the massive engine, the shadow of his furrowed brow as he unscrewed plastic knobs. What you saw more than anything though—like a filter laid over the scene—were three type-written letters. The hands that typed them fumbled with the cables, squeezed around the thick, jaw-like clamps. When they bit right where he wanted, they released; tendons flexing, knuckles pinking from the freezing air. Reflexively, he wiped them on the chest of his black hoodie peeking out from his open coat. 

It might have just been the cold, but even in the twilight—in the absence of the flashlight he was tucking into his pocket—you could have sworn his cheeks flushed when he caught you staring. “Alright, um, go ahead and start your car. I’ll do the same.”

Following the tether that joined the two vehicles, you did as he told you. Nothing came of it though, just more incessant clicking. Exasperated, you tossed back in your seat before slumping out of the car once more. 

“Shit, it must be the starter. Probably cracked, that’s my guess anyway by the sound of it,” Eddie explained as he stepped around to face your engine again. Clicking his flashlight, he peered into the compartment. “See, if you follow the positive terminal line all the way down, that’s where the starter will be. Only problem is it’s tricky to get to without a lift.” 

You followed his grease-stained finger down the dirt-dusted tangle of tubes, drawing nearer under the subtle guise of interest in your engine. You stopped just inches from his solid leather frame, close enough to brush him with your elbow. “You seem to know your way around a car.”

He huffed, shaking his head as he muttered. “Wish I didn’t.” But before you could comment, he was shutting the hood. “I’m sorry, but I think we’re gonna have to call a tow truck.” 

Your defeated sigh rose toward the clouds as you glanced at the squat school building. The lights were off. Judy’s car was absent from the lot, as were all but a handful, including the two of yours. Glancing at your watch under the floodlights, the big hand tipped past the golden dot where a five should be.

Eddie stepped closer, filling the gap with a heavy exhale before meeting your eyes. “You know I could, um—” he scratched the back of his neck, words evaporating quicker than his breath. What could he do? What could he really do about any of this? For most of his life he’d been a leaf on the wind, scuttling across the pavement toward the gutter, struggling to steer himself away. But you were stranded, and if there was anything he was good for, it was a ride. “I could—I could take you back to your place. If you’re ok with that, I mean. We could—fuck—I mean you could call from there a-and I could—”

There were chinks in your armor, cracking with each bumbling word. You looked at him, really looked. Eddie Munson, with grease-stained hands and eyes that pierced like arrows in their pleading. Straight through to the softest part of you, the place between your ribs that cries I want. And oh, how desperately you wanted. Wanted to soothe his worried lips in yours again, to feel his pounding chest again, to be thawed by his heat again. But you just stood there, frozen.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his open coat, he shifted on the balls of his feet as he searched for more words in the snow. “Look, I know you said you wanted space, a-and it probably seems like—shit.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing with a sharp sigh. “I just want to help you. Will you just let me help you? Please?”

Your chest plate clattered to the concrete, gauntlets falling in a heap beside your greaves. There was no white flag to wave. No sword to relinquish, or shield to discard. Your surrender was nothing but a soft “okay,” barely heard above the howling wind. 

______

A/N: After over a year and 100k words, the smut chapter is finally upon us! Thank you for coming with me on this very long journey and sticking it out. I have no idea how long this next one is going to take me to write, but I can promise you that when it’s finished you will experience every moment in exquisite, delicious, poetic detail. 

You might have noticed that I’ve pulled a few small details like character names and places from Flight of Icarus, but I will not be retconning any of Eddie’s backstory. 

Also random, tumblr decided to make that one paragraph bold once I changed it to chat font with no ability to unbold it, but that wasn't intended. It kind of worked though so I'm not mad.

Taglist: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @kissmyacdc @raccoonboywrites @storiesbyrhi @trashmouth-richie @keeponquinning @munson-blurbs @blueywrites @alottanothing @bebe07011 @idkidknemore @alizztor @godcreatoreli @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @mrsjellymunson @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @big-ope-vibes @barbiedragon @ladylilylost @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @chaoticgood-munson @hanahkatexo @eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @averagemisfit03 @vintagehellfire @haylaansmi @sllooney @lunaladybug734 @callingmrsbarnes @ajkamins

[genderqueerdykes]

how do i try to put this for people who get confused about aromantic lesbians and gays. not every aro lesbian is like this so disclosure: i am talking about my experience as an aro lesbian, but i feel like it's still important to discuss. lesbians can be aromantic and asexual, and even both- i am on the ace spectrum, so i can be considered an aroace lesbian. the thing is, i still experience lesbian and sapphic attraction even if it's not necessary romantic.

the way i try to phrase it is i have a deep attraction toward all dykes: butches, studs, bulldykes, femmes, lesboys, transbians, non binary dykes, intersex dykes, transmasc, ftm & trans male dykes, transfem dykes, genderqueer dykes, male dykes, bigender dykes, genderfluid dykes, two-spirit dykes. and sapphic identifying women, men & people. i'm dyke oriented. i want to be around other dykes of any identity- i want to live in domestic environmnets with other lesbians & dykes, taking care of one another, making sure we're alright.

i want to be there for other dykes in my community. i want to come visit to check on how they're doing when they're sick. i wanna be there to listen to the stone butches when they feel estranged. i want to give them groceries that i didn't end up liking but i know they would. i want to laugh and joke and goof off with other dykes. i want to be there to listen when they have gender or identity dysphoria. i wanna go bowling with the butches. i wanna workout at the gym with the bulls. i wanna go clothes shopping with the lesboys & boydykes to find them clothes that make them feel like themselves. i want to give other dykes a place to stay when they're going through hard times. i want to befriend with the weird "crazy" "ugly" dykes who are freaky. i want to be there when something scary happens so i can provide comfort and support. i want to help give resources and aid to other poor dykes who need it.

there are a lot of ways to be a dyke, lesbian, or sapphic. whatever you want to call yourself under this umbrella, there are a tons of ways to express it. i don't have to want to cuddle, kiss or hug other dykes in a romantic fashion. maybe i like surrounding myself with other dykes. maybe i just really prefer the company of other dykes. it's not that hard to wrap one's brain around once you break it down like that. there's a million other ways to be in someone else's company and spend time together. i assure you there is more to adult relationships than sex and romance. those are wonderful things for the people who enjoy them, but for those of us who are aromantic and/or asexual, there are many other ways to enjoy the company of other folks in a very queer fashion.

happy pride to every aromantic spectrum lesbian, dyke & sapphic person, you deserve to be seen and heard just as much as every other dyke. you matter

[theaverageptncasualenjoyer]

"We're not even dating." "But you belong to me." Shalom (Fem MBCC intel officer)

An: I'm back 🥳 But, only for a quick while before I have think about the romance department more... 🤢🤮 This'll be angst, jealousy, misunderstandings, lowkey toxic shalom, and suggestive themes, mentions of sex...

It started out as a one night stand, then turned into something more... Honestly, I don't know what came over me, thinking this was a good idea... But, there was no turning back once I caved, and asked for more... I'll always end up waking to no one by my side. Perhaps I enjoy the pain that comes after pleasure, which I shouldn't be. I felt sick, though I never tire of seeking her warmth. She is no saint although I'll gladly become a sinner just for her to look my way. But of course, she'll always look at her damn bodyguard's way... What does she have that I don't? I may be powerless, but I'm the one who's with her at nights like these... For her desire of flesh, I am the one who satiate her needs... Still, I end up losing to a woman who does not engage in such affairs. Shalom had told me once, while I lay underneath her, that her bodyguard has no interest in regards to mindless sex. She once attempted to seduce her, but to no avail, her bodyguard does not indulge. We're not lovers, so why must I feel this way...? It feels so wrong, but at the same time right to possess such feelings... I am fully aware about having no right to behave in a manner. But I can't help it. She disappears in my life, only to come back after weeks or even months without contact. My body has been drained, and my love had diminished. Like a candle lit flame that had been burning for too long, it's flames have extinguished after it's overuse. Perhaps it is time for me to move on. A week after her disappearance, I started working as an intelligence officer at the MBCC. Little did I know that she would soon enter my life again after 4 months of working as an intelligence officer. I moved places, to a new apartment near my workplace. I managed to fix myself, slowly. I don't think about her too much. After all, I ended up having a small crush on Matilda. There was just something about her that had me catching feelings for the sinner, maybe it was that side of hers that only a few had known, her caring nature, her ability to observe others in a way that she is able to tell when a person is troubled, and how she ensures that I am safe and protected. She and I grew closer over the past few months. I saw Shalom and the bodyguard that she would mention during our intimacy... This time, I didn't feel some sort of envy towards her bodyguard. Only contentment as I met eyes with Matilda next to Shalom, walking towards me as I greet her warmly. Shalom didn't like the interaction. My eyes softened, as I went somewhere with Matilda. Shalom couldn't resist asking the chief as to what was my relationship with Matilda, to which the chief responds, "The two of them are close friends. Though, it could be something more." The chief paused, and then continued, "I wouldn't be surprised if they ended up together." The chief concludes with an amused chuckle. Shalom did not appreciate that. I was now currently on break, lounging around in the breakroom. Waiting for coffee to brew. I didn't notice Shalom entering the room, eyes immediately locked onto my figure, as I unknowingly hum and waited for my coffee. She then spoke up, causing me to freeze up, unable to turn around and face her. "So, you and the councilor's niece, huh..." I grimace, not wanting to have this conversation. "...What do you want now, Shalom?" Her eyes narrowed, not liking the way I wasn't interested in a conversation with her at all. "I left for months, and you suddenly have some other woman to play around with?" I didn't like the way she was talking to Matilda like that, so I responded, "Play around? Is that all you think about?" my voiced laced with venom. "Oh, how sweet. Her knight and shining armor had come to defend her. Do you want a reward?" Her tone was sarcastic. I ignored her reply, choosing to focus on getting my coffee instead of entertaining her. That was all I was to her, anyways. A joke. To be played around with. I'm not even surprised at all.

"Don't ignore me, dear." She hissed, approaching me. I quickly grabbed my cup, and side stepped. "..." I walked past her, shocking her as I went outside. Without a word. She quickly catch up to me, grabbing my wrist. "I am not done talking to you." "But I am. Matilda's waiting for me." Her eyes darkened. "Matilda this, Matilda that. When will you quit the charades? You're doing this to make me jealous." I can feel the jealousy on her words, causing me to blink slowly. "...Excuse me? Do you really think I hang out with Matilda just because I want to waste time making you feel that way? Gross." I say, disgusted before pulling my hand away from her grasp. I looked her up and down. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but don't ever talk to me again." I then went ahead. Making shalom clench her coat sleeve... Don't come back to my life suddenly and act all possessive towards me. We're not even lovers, so why act that way? I thought grimly as I met up with Matilda. Matilda was now someone who I trust with my secrets. She knew about me and Shalom, it made her angry and more protective of me whenever Shalom visits the MBCC. Shalom didn't help at all by increasing the tension, taunting Matilda; She paid no mind to the bait that Shalom obviously presented to her. She grew more and more jealous at the relationship between me and Matilda, without knowing that me and her were just friends. I realized that Matilda felt more of a sister to me, rather than someone who I like in a romantic way, Matilda expressed the same feeling as well. One night, Shalom couldn't take it anymore. She had enough of seeing my closeness with Matilda. The lingering stares, touches, and the secrecy of words being whispered to one another's ear had plagued Shalom's mind all day. She had to stop this madness before her mania level will consume her... Meanwhile, I was busy in my office trying to connect the dots about the incident earlier that had happened outside of the MBCC's building. I heard the door swung open, and had expected it to be the chief. I was wrong. It was Shalom. After seeing who it was, I closed my eyes and heaved a deep sigh. I didn't want to deal with her, but I have to. It must be something important. "Do you require assistance, miss Shalom?" My voice held a professional tone to it, as I paused reading the files. "No, but I have something that I wanted to talk about." Making me nod stiffly. "...Alright." I looked at her with nothingness, making her feel... Odd about the look. "...Do you feel nothing towards me now?" She starts, as she met my gaze with a hint of sadness. "...Hm." I answered it vaguely, unable to comprehend why the question all of the sudden. She sits on my desk, papers long forgotten as she made herself comfortable. "What happened to the nights that we once shared together? Do you not miss it?" It took me a while to process it. "I mean... It's been months. I've been busy, you're busy as well." Her hand made its way to my chin, cupping it. "Don't you... Miss me?" Her voice, velvety, it almost made me shiver, if not for the fact that I just felt uncomfortable right now. "Um, not really?" My voice was uncertain, unable to determine if I indeed missed her at all. Making her frown. "What does Matilda have that I don't? Why is she so special to you?" Making me confused. Is she saying that Matilda is my girlfriend...? A baffled look made its way to my face, making her question me. "...You did not think I would notice, didn't you." As if stating a fact. I awkwardly replied, "We're close friends..." Her eyes had soften for a bit, but then narrowed. "You're kidding. You are together." "We're not." I state calmly. "I've seen the way you look at her. It's unnerving."

A shadow had crowded over Shalom's eyes. I sighed, explaining further about my relationship with Matilda. After explaining it for a bit, she seemed to have lighten up. "There. Now, do you get it?" She nods. "Yes. Now, I can do this..." She suddenly grabbed my collar and pulled me towards her. Making the space nonexistent between us. My breath hitched, heat immediately crept up to my face. Shalom took notice. "Ah, there it is. How I've missed that look." She cooed, making me jerk backwards and her grip loosening due to the sudden reaction. "Don't do this to me, Shalom." I hissed, upset at her actions. She then looked hurt. "What's wrong? Do you not perhaps want to continue our relationship?" I swiftly got out of my desk and made my way to the door. "Oh, no. I am not about to enter in that relationship again. I'm leaving." Her hand had grasped my wrist that was already twisting the door knob, in swift movement. "Tell me, what's wrong..." "Everything is! This whole thing started as an accident and ended with an MISTAKE! Shalom, god... I don't know how you are able to do this with a straight face, but I can't do this anymore. I want out." She then glared at me and responded. "It wasn't a mistake, tell me you didn't just say that now." Making me more irritable at the response. "What? Do you want me to pretend that it wasn't? Because it was! So stop!" She then cupped my face. "It wasn't to me. It might've started that way, but I ended up falling for you." Making me look at her in shock. "No, you're only saying that because you just want the sex." I hated sounding like I was hurt over this, when I know damn well when it was supposed to be that way anyways. "Why does it matter to you so much?" I sound distressed, pushing her away from me with much force. "We're not even dating." Shalom's next actions and words had caught me off guard. "But you belong to me." Her hand found it's way to my waist, pulling me towards her body once more. "Can't you see, that I feel strongly about you dear?" Her voice murmured against my collarbone. Teeth nipping at it, as I fail to conceal my voice. "I don't want anyone else but me to be near you, to have you, and to love you this way..." She possessively said, cupping my cheek with her free hand and tracing her thumb on my face, rubbing circles. "I'm obsessed with you, the reason why I am not able to return right away... Was because of how addicted I was from your warmth. It wasn't just the sex. I promise..." She soothes me by sucking on my neck, leaving a trail of marks as she worked her way up to my lips. "I love you. I want you to be mine, to belong to me... Darling." She whispered in my lips. I let her devour me. Whole. "You're mine. I don't intend to share you or settle for second best. No one compares to you." She declared. I whimpered. "What about your bodyguard? Didn't you lust for her as well...?" She smirks, unzipping my skirt and tracing my underwear. "Oh, her? I only said that to make you jealous. I wanted you to act possessive of me. But it backfired." She explained, but not before harshly tugging down my skirt, tearing off my blouse. "All of these... Are for my eyes only. I regret teasing you. Allow me to make up for it..." She then harshly palmed my breast while my bra was on. Her fingers danced around my inner thigh...

[xodarling]

can you plsplspls write something with the reader realizing she might actually be falling for rocker!beidou and hating herself for it but she can't stop?? pls on my knees (like during mid-fuck maybe or during aftercare)

sorry, i don’t want your touch. - xodarling

includes: fem!reader, this is barely smut focused, but it does have smut, angst idk, fluff kinda, riding, handjobs, making out, love confessions, comfort, crying, blowjob, dom!beidou, toxic relationship, happy ending yippee, down bad!beidou, ooc beidou prob, horrible standards

a/n: NO. fine. this is SOOO out my comfort zone so sorrgy if it sucks (it does suck)

beidou just… aggravated you to no end. she has this dumb smile on her every time she sees you and her eyes just light up when you make eye contact. just insufferable! the fact that the sex in this what was supposed to be transactional relationship was amazing made your anger so much worse.

after the marathon of fucking in her garage, beidou really took the time out of her day to care for you. despite, her legs being wobbly and her soul being drained. she cared for you, she ran you a bath and ordered takeout from your favorite restaurant, as a lover would do. it infuriated you to no end how she seemed so selfless in this relationship.

cuddling was nice. it’s been almost a week since the garage and your mind hasn't forgotten beidou’s pampering. always thinking about it, analyzing every detail of those memories. how she treated you like you were made of porcelain, how she kissed every mark she left on you, the way she held you, and how she whispered in your ear until you fell asleep. each thing she did made you angrier.

but why? most would love being treated like this by the bassist. girls love her, yet she chose you. it got you mad, like always.

sex was the one thing about her that didn't make you enraged. she was good at using her dick and you would gladly take it. it became common to have sex regularly, it was useful, it put your mind off your hatred for her and it felt good, double win. like now, the two of you swapping spit on her bed, both of your hands under clothing and caressing each other.

her compliments made you sick to your stomach, the way she cooed at your whimpers and chuckled when you bucked your hips, it was all so annoying. “you’re cute.” she whispered into your ear, pecking your cheek as you pumped your hand up and down her shaft. her pants were pulled down enough so her cock could be exposed, its shape was the only thing you liked about her, right? right.

the two of you lying down next to each other felt romantic, her arm around your shoulder felt protective, and her gaze on you was soft. even as you grope her cock with your hand, beidou shows nothing but love for you. it’s obvious she sees sex as something between two lovers, nothing like how you do. god, how insufferable this hopeless romantic is.

“am i?” you question teasingly. “of course you are.” ew. internally, that made you gag, but you didn't show it. instead, you slither down the bed to be at eye-level with her dick. your lips press themselves onto her tip, humming at the taste of her pre-cum. beidou groans at your kisses, your lips are soft against her skin, and it feels good. one of her large hands goes to the back of your head. part of you wants her to grab your scalp and fuck you like a common whore. but she doesn't.

she treads her fingers through your hair, looking down at you with a sort of gaze only seen in those vintage romance movies. you quietly sigh and wrap your lips around her tip, lowering your head further and further down her length, till your lips reach the base of it. even as you deepthroat, bob your head ferociously, and gag on it, she still treats you with kindness, with love.

“god, yes...” she sighs, smiling to herself. her other hand goes down to hold your own, embracing your fingers with her calloused ones. your lips and throat feel like heaven around her cock, it was warm and wet, and it felt a million times better because you were sucking her off, not some random groupie, you. your abdomen tensed up, the love that she felt toward you was like no other, and that made her orgasm hurl towards the end.

she lets out a guttural groan, arching her back as her tip began to pour out cum. you push your head all the way down to the base, eagerly swallowing all of her seed. there was a lot of it, her eyes were screwed shut as she grunted with each rope. after a few more seconds, it stopped, and she sighed out of relief. that stupidly handsome smile formed on her face again, and she chuckled some more.

“you were always so good at doing this.” she sighed, letting go of your head and hand, “but i think i want more.” her eyes had a glint of playfulness in them, she stared at you like you were her sun, her moon, and her stars, she treated you like you were a deity. she sits up, resting her back against the headboard of the bed.

you licked up a few stray drops before sitting up as well. a smile was on your lips, but you weren't happy to be with her. she made you warm, but it wasn't an in-love kind of warm, it was an angry one, you think. “oh, yeah?” you raise your eyebrows, “i think i can help you with that.” your hands get placed on your shoulders, gripping them so you could maneuver yourself to be right on top of her erection.

you impatiently sat down on her dick when your eyes met, she always has that stupid look in her eyes, and you wanted to rip her face off. the pleasure of impaling yourself took your mind off the anger, you let out a moan while she sighed again. her hands went to your waist as you began your riding. no words were spoken between you two. good, just how you like it.

your arms slithered around her waist as you rode her ferociously, skin slapping against skin loudly. your head was thrown back in pleasure, she was so big it made you forget everything in your life, all your worries. it was just the pleasure beidou’s cock made you feel. your train of thought was cut off by beidou’s lips wrapping around your nipple, gently sucking on the sensitive bud.

even as you rode her aggressively, she still kept her touch soft, like you would break if she went too hard. you huffed and went harder, the pleasure was doing a horrible job of masking the anger, so you got more desperate. your mind went to how she felt inside of you and how big she was, her tip ramming into your g-spot with each bounce. it felt good, being fucked like this, without needing to think.

your mind went blank, the pleasure took over again. the feeling of beidou’s cock took it all away, your riding her and sucking was driving you closer and closer to your orgasm. you wanted it. you needed it. and you were so close, it felt so good. your moans got higher and higher, your nails dug into her skin and your muscles were tensing up. oh, so close.

“you look so pretty right now.” that husky voice whispers, you widen your eyes when you hear it and you’re met with the sight of a woman, a woman pathetically in love with another. all of a sudden, that warm feeling was gone, despite your continued riding. your eyes met hers, her irises looked gentle, like a puppy’s or some innocent animal that knew nothing but to love. and it got you furious.

all of a sudden, that sweet euphoric high you were chasing disappeared. your bouncing stopped and the slick between your thighs now felt cold and uncomfortable. your stomach twisted in disgust at the harsh realization, your brain didn't want to accept it, you didn't want to accept that this brute who was nothing but muscle had your heart right in her rough palms.

you remember how her eyes would look for you through every crowd her band had performed to and lit up when she saw you. you remember how on the first valentine’s day after your relationship was official she went above and beyond for you in all things romantic. you remember all the times she protected you, how she kissed you, held you. you… loved it.

everyone around you saw you as no good. a burden. a gold digger, a narcissist, someone not to associate with. it was foreign to be treated so nicely and be shown love… care, and affection. beidou didn't mind your fits or insults, she would take all your attitude with a big smile on her face and a bouquet already ready in her hands. your mind is running rampant, and it makes all you're trying to hide and push down feel more real, more intense.

your eyes began to water. beidou deserved better, you knew this. she deserved more than some gold digger who only cared about herself, she deserved more than you. she needed someone who loved her and wasn't afraid to admit it. she deserved someone who could give you more than you ever could. no matter how hard you tried. with the way she looked at you, you had no choice but to process your feelings, and they hit you like a ton of bricks.

you felt horrible about yourself. what the hell are you doing? using this hopeless romantic for sex and money when all she does is love you unconditionally. beidou doesn't deserve someone as disgusting as you.

“babe… you okay?” she mutters, straightening her posture and loosening the grip she hand on your bare body. you hate her. you hate the way she has the nerve to treat you like this when all you’ve known is being pushed away. beidou noticed your discomfort, the way your arousal faded away, and began to pull out. any other asshole you fucked would keep going, but she didn't.

you look down and shake your head, “no…” you whisper, “no, i… can’t do this…” your mind is saying one thing, and your heart is saying another. you can’t accept it, out of all things, this is the one thing you cannot let happen in your life. you can’t be in love with beidou… you can’t, you just can't.

“woah… uh, it’s okay. we… we don't have to continue if you don’t wanna.” she tries her best to affirm, to give you solace. it does the opposite. her kindness was unfamiliar and it made you feel the need to put more walls up, more than the ton you already have. you huff, “just… stop..!” your mind was already everywhere, you didn't need beidou’s kindness to further infuriate you.

she opens her mouth to protest then decides against it. good. she blinked rapidly at you. you raised your voice at her, and that never happens. you clench your jaw and then start again, “what are you getting at, beidou? what’s your goal here?!” you hated her. you just wanted to punch her face mercilessly for the way she makes you feel.

“my… my goal? what do you mean?” your muscles were incredibly tense. she made you angry, “your goal in… this! what are you trying to do?! why are you being so nice!?” you push her a bit out of impulse. the two of you were still connected, her being inside you. but there were zero signs of arousal, just anger, and confusion between the two of you. “being so nice? you’re my girlfriend! why wouldn’t i treat you nicely?”

you stare at her with fury in your eyes, your heart racing sporadically, “some people are nice to each other ‘cause they like each other, not to use each other.” she says in a calmer tone, reassuring you with her hands gripping your shoulder. you can’t accept it. there’s no way, you truly thought that romance this pure was only in romance movies for losers with broken hearts.

your heart was accepting your love for her, it was warm, and it felt like something that came straight from fiction. but your brain didn't let it happen, being seen as weak, and showing love, wasn't normal for you. those tears you desperately tried to push down were climbing back up, and in an attempt to hide them, you look away.

“babe,” beidou whispers, “i love you, a lot.” her voice was soft, you found that disgusting. each attempt to push them down made them rise even quicker. your eyes quickly started to pour out single tears, little by little, beidou sighed and pulled you closer to her, head resting under her chin. “hun, it’s okay…” she murmured, combing her fingers through your hair. gentle, like how a lover should.

your mind was in turmoil, the warmth beidou gave you battling against the discomfort all of this gave you. this started as a way for money, but now it feels like it's so much more. you now craved beidou, you could easily leave, pretend she doesn't exist. but you can't, you need her. the two of you sat in silence for minutes, those were the calmest, yet most tense minutes of your life. the thoughts in your head were the only things you could fully process until the action of beidou pulling out ripped you away from your mind.

“what are you doing?” you sniffled, voice stuffy and uncharacteristically weak. “oh. i’m just assuming we won’t continue…” she says under her breath. however, her words fall on deaf ears. you lean up and stare back into her eyes. your hands cup her cheeks, eyes admiring the handsome face you loathed with all your life up until a few minutes ago.

“beidou.” you sighed. her eyes did something to you, and it wasn’t like when you were just a groupie, it was warm but not that kind of warm. you wanted to kiss her, hold her hand, go on dates with her, cuddle. you already did all those things together, but now, it didn't feel like a chore to do. you wanted to gossip about anything and talk the night away with her, you wanted her to buy you flowers and you do the same back.

“when we started dating, beidou… i thought you were obnoxious.” it felt like you were getting rid of tens of thousands of weights off your shoulders, and it was nerve-wracking saying it, but you just… couldn't suck it up anymore. if you did, you would never tell her how you felt. ever. “and i thought that i would never fall for you, that i’m just gonna use you for money and shit. but… but, you’re such a sweet person and i don’t know a lot about relationships but i know you deserve better than this…”

before she could protest, you spoke out again, “i’ve been… lying to myself and to you. you’ve made me feel things that I hated, and you’ve done it so selflessly.” your face was hot with shame and embarrassment, and your vision was blurry with tears. “i’ve just kept you around so i could spend money and get laid. but… i don't think i can just keep lying to you like this. i’m horrible for you… but i’m too selfish to let another girl have you.”

even amid this horrible confession, she still reaches up and wipes away those tears that fall. her hand was warm, and it was nice to have her show affection. “so… i’m sorry.” you cringe saying that, but it feels nice letting go of everything. “i’m sorry for lying to you, using you, and for treating you like shit. but… i love you, beidou.” dear god, if you just yesterday heard you say that you’d flip. but it’s true… you love her, even if you keep trying to gaslight yourself.

it was silent, you weren’t given any response from beidou so you were left alone with a hurricane of thoughts in your head. your embarrassment worsened by her silence. it would be great if she said something, or even gave you that cliche kiss after a confession. but, it was just silence. nothing. you nervously chewed on your lower, fiddling with the sheets on the mattress.

“cute.”

that’s all she had to say? cute? if you weren’t on the verge of a mental breakdown you would’ve slapped her so hard. but, you didn't. beidou notices the furrow in your brows and pinches your cheek, “it’s okay…” she chuckles, looking off to the side as she begins her side of the story. “y’know, i didn’t really care about the way you treated me, i thought it was kinda hot...” her eyes have an unfamiliar glint in them, and yours do too.

“so, i love you too.” she proudly smiles, her pride gleaming harshly, showcasing all of her feelings to you just from a gaze, her happiness made your brain short-circuit. apparently, what’s in those romance movies made for losers with broken hearts is true, because all you want to do is kiss her until both of you turn blue, and then some more. so that’s what you do.

your kiss was delicate, she held you and kissed you like you were made of porcelain, her rough hands keeping a possessive grip on your body. both of your lips slotted against one another, it was a perfect fit, like two puzzle pieces or like magnets. hopefully, this relationship would fit together like that as well. it’ll take time, but that time will come.

unfortunately, oxygen is needed to stay alive, so the two of you pull away. both of you look deep into each other’s irises, admiring the way one looks at the other. the stillness in the air was disrupted by you letting out a snicker, “what? what’s so funny?” beidou questions, “nothin’, just think you’re cute.” you make an excuse and cup her face in your palms, rubbing her cheekbones with your thumbs.

her eyes gaze down. oh, right. your breakdown was kind of a mood killer. “are we gonna… continue, or…?” she mutters. it takes a moment for you to decide, “how about we take a bath instead?” she hums in acknowledgment. the two of you were cold with sweat. gross, a bath would be very appropriate in a situation like this.

she huffs while standing up with you in her arms. the walk to the bathroom was filled with kisses, whispers, and small fits of laughter. it felt soft, and your attitude was nothing like what it usually was, totally unlike you. but, it felt comforting. beidou felt comforting. even in the cold bathroom, your core felt everlastingly hot because of the butterflies she gave you.

it’ll take a while for both of you to get the gist of a relationship, a healthy one at that. but learning and growing is part of the process, right? who would’ve guessed that this nimrod actually managed to steal your heart?

[bluehoodiewoozi]

Neverending

Lee Jihoon x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff with little to no plot

Words: 14k

Warnings: crying with references to an argument. a single reference to porn. hatred of philosophy. simp woozi who suffers from anxious perfectionism and self-deprecating thoughts.

[College/University AU] With the help of his friends' advice, Jihoon goes on a quest to become the best boyfriend he can be.

Note: I wrote this, had a mental break-down, then finished this, and now I'm sharing it with you in the hopes that it'll save you from a mental break-down of your own or perhaps it'll comfort you in some way. Hang in there, y'all!

It was no secret that Jihoon had little to no experience with romance. His friends often joked that his experience was limited to exactly seven rom-coms and a steamy romance novel from his mother’s bookshelf that he once read in a state of absolute boredom when he was grounded. 

And Jihoon was fine with that. He didn’t complain when he made it through middle school without as much as a peck from a girl (or anyone other than Soonyoung, really – he wasn’t picky). He didn’t as much as blink when it was high school graduation day and he was still as single as that one famous whale in the ocean. He merely shrugged when his friends pitied his forever-single state while he was doing his undergraduate degree. 

It wasn’t until he started working on his master’s degree that he began to feel left out. Maybe a little over 20 years of being single was just his limit, or maybe it was the constant pitying stares of his friends, or perhaps it was his mother’s not-so-subtle hints of wanting grandkids while she could still run with them – either way, Jihoon finally realised that he was lonely even with over ten friends around him.

And maybe it was this realisation that made him view the people around him differently. All of a sudden, couples seemed to surround him wherever he went. The pair of girls he always saw chatting at the café he worked at? Suddenly he was a witness to the kisses they shared in the corner seat. The guy living across the hall from him in the dormitory? Giggling and kicking his feet after his girlfriend fixed his hair as they left for their 8 am class. 

Heck, even Vernon was in a relationship, buying two to-go cups of chai tea from the café every Wednesday, a love-sick smile on his face, before heading to the park to share them with a woman the rest of their friend group could only theorise the identity of. 

If Vernon out of all people could find someone, why couldn’t he?

Then, as if the universe had heard the silent cries of Jihoon’s heart, he met you. 

Assigned to the same semester-long group project, he quickly realised that you were the only person other than him to actually do the work. It started with looks of exasperation shared across the library table the six of you gathered at, and then the two of you had no choice but to start talking. 

Talking – right, that was the first real step. At first about schoolwork – about the research questions of your project, about other courses, about complaints about your professors. Then, barely a week into knowing him, you broke the thin ice.

He could still vividly remember the way you tugged on the sleeve of his jacket just as he was about to walk away after a meeting. You smiled at him – a real smile rather than the tired polite one he had grown so accustomed to – and asked, “So, what kind of movies do you like?”

As soon as he managed to utter the words “I guess… superhero movies?” out of his mouth, you were once again tugging at his sleeve, this time dragging him in the direction of a nearby cinema. You ended up only allowing him to pay for the popcorn (and he had to beg for even that much) because it seemed you were dead-set on treating him like a prince.

That was your first date: after classes, in the darkness of the cinema, with Spiderman swinging by on the giant screen. He barely had any time to pay attention to the plot, too busy relishing in your presence and the sound of your laughter at the corny jokes. And then, as MJ and Peter Parker shared a kiss on the screen, he felt something warm on his hand – your fingers curled around his own and he couldn’t help but give them a squeeze back, his ears as red as Spiderman’s suit. 

The impromptu date was followed by another, then another, and another, until you finally had enough and pulled him to the side after class.

“Do you like me?” you asked him, a little frustrated with how slow things were going and with how awkward he still seemed.

His ears flushed red again. “Of… of course I do.” (He preferred to imagine his voice hadn’t cracked in the middle of the sentence.)

Your scowl remained. “Then be my boyfriend.”

When he nodded, you smiled and took his hand again – he told himself he’d never let yours go. 

But unfortunately, his lack of romantic experience made it difficult to gracefully slip into the role of your boyfriend. He was almost jealous of the way the role of the girlfriend came so easily to you, taking his hand so easily every day, when he spent hours at night contemplating whether he should kiss your forehead or not when you’d part ways on campus the next day. 

On one of those nights, he decided you deserved better. You deserved a better him. 

So, he grabbed his phone and texted the one friend he trusted with his life. 

[i need advice.]

[how can i be a better boyfriend?]

[YJH: that’s easy! carry her bag for her! girls love that!]

When Jihoon met you on your way to a 12 pm class, he hesitated to follow Jeonghan’s advice. Countless what-ifs floated in his head: what if you thought that it was rude, what if you wanted to carry your own things, what if you tried to carry his bag instead… Did boyfriends outside of fanfiction and romantic movies even carry their girlfriends’ things for them?

Doubts hurried out of his mind soon enough, making way for worry when he saw you adjust the tote bag on your shoulder with a grimace. He inwardly panicked at the sight of your discomfort. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?” you wondered as if completely oblivious. 

“Is your bag heavy?” His brows furrowed. Before you could take another step, he slipped the bag off your shoulder and onto his own. Your grimace made sense all of a sudden. His frown deepened, but not because of your confused stare. “What do you have in here? An entire drum set?”

You laughed. “No, just my laptop and some snacks.”

Even as he bounced on his spot to test the weight, his frown remained. He glared at the bag. “Your laptop’s not that heavy.”

Your face scrunched up. “My laptop kind of broke yesterday, so I had to revive the old, heavy one.”

Jihoon’s frown disappeared. He stared up at you in surprise, and then, unable to stop himself, he offered, “Do you want me to take a look at it? Maybe I can fix it.”

“Nah,” you shrugged, “I’ll just take it to get it fixed tomorrow. My friend recommended this shop–”

“Don’t be silly,” he scolded you and continued the journey to class. “You know that the shop will take three weeks to even look at your laptop and then another three to order the necessary parts and then another five to actually fix it. You might graduate before they get it fixed.”

“Yeah?” you laughed, following after him, your hand naturally coming to rest around his own. “And you’re faster?”

“Faster, more reliable, cheaper,” he counted on his fingers before offering you a cheeky grin. When you didn’t seem too convinced, he sighed and added, “You can ask any of my friends and they’ll tell you I can do this. I’ve done this before. I fixed Junhui’s laptop just a few weeks ago; got a 5-star review.”

At that, you sighed. In the few weeks of being his girlfriend, you had learnt that he was as stubborn as he was kind. In fact, he was even more stubborn when he was being kind: you had been a first-hand witness to Jihoon physically pinning Kim Mingyu to the ground to put a bandage on a fresh cut on his cheek, all the while cursing the friend under his breath for not being more careful. You shuddered at what Jihoon might do if you continued to refuse his laptop-fixing offer.

You finally sighed again and nodded. “Should I bring it over to your place?”

“Yeah,” he agreed easily, his lips curling into a victorious smile, “I’m free this weekend so I can probably get it done before finals.”

You grinned at the thought. “If you manage to do that, I will literally marry you. You’re the best.”

He could only pray you wouldn’t mention the way his ears undoubtedly turned red again as he adjusted your bag on his shoulder and led you to your lecture room.

[YJH: help her do research for her essay] 

Jihoon let out a soft huff as he placed your bag on a seat at the library before gently pulling you to sit in the seat next to it. He let himself fall into the chair across from yours. 

“Thank you!” your chipper voice was almost enough to rid him of the muscle pain your pain caused. 

He offered a smile and a blink so slow you began to wonder if he took you for a cat. “You’re welcome.”

Then, just like a cat himself, he just sat and watched you set up on the desk. His eyes sharply followed every movement you made, sometimes lingering here or there if something particular caught his eye (your oddly fluffy pink pen was one of those particular things). “So, what are you going to be working on?”

You groaned audibly. “Research for this mythology class I’m taking. We’re supposed to make a big wiki as a class effort. Each of us got a different topic to write about. But, like, it’s more of an actual small research paper: citations, references, quotes…” You pouted. “If you weren’t here, I’d be crying by now.”

He didn’t like the sound of that at all – the crying part, because he actually quite enjoyed mythology. Though he hesitated just a little before saying it, he offered, “If you need a hug, just tell me.”

“You’re so cute.” You reached over the table to give him an affectionate pat on his head, effectively both praising him and fixing his windswept mess of hair. “Have you gotten around to fixing my laptop yet?”

Relaxing in his chair, he began, “I’m waiting for a part, but it’s almost fixed otherwise.”

You blinked. “What part?”

“A battery.”

“I don’t think it was a battery issue, though,” you mumbled while avoiding his eyes, not wanting to insult his competence. After all, you were pretty sure the issue was with the graphics – why else would your laptop screen flicker like a rogue disco ball?

As if reading your mind, he chuckled and pulled out his phone to check the package tracking website. “I almost fixed the main issue already, but I noticed that the battery was acting weird, so I figured I might as well fix that too.”

When he looked up from his phone again, you were staring at him with stars in his eyes. His heart thumped a little louder at the sight. “... What?”

You shrugged and turned back to your work. “Nothing.”

He pursed his lips at that and put his phone away again. In his head, he went over all the assignments he had to finish for the following week. Deciding there weren’t any that took priority (a bold lie to himself), he cleared his throat. “So, what do you have to research?”

“Greek mythology.”

“But…” He tilted his head to the side in thought – maybe you wouldn’t want his help? There he went again, he realised: hesitating. He frowned and shook his head clear before smiling at you again. “What exactly?”

“Some mythological creatures. I thought that would be more fun than the usual famous characters.”

“Creatures like… harpies and sirens?”

“Yep.” 

Realising you were already deep in the world of research, he decided to not bother you with any further questions. Instead, he slowly and as quietly as he could (but still louder than he would’ve liked) slid his chair back and headed further into the library. 

“Mythological creatures,” he mumbled to himself as he wandered between the seemingly endless shelves. Before long, he found what he was looking for. He returned to your table barely ten minutes later, placing a heap of books on it before slumping back into his chair with a deep sigh. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him open the first book and flip through the pages like a man on a quest. You smiled at the sight before focusing back on your work. Even so, you heard the scribble of his pencil and the familiar sound of a sticky note getting ripped out of its block. 

Just as you stopped paying attention to him, you felt a book being pushed towards you. When you looked away from your laptop, you found the book you had just seen him read, now laid open on your side of the table, turned to face you. 

Light pink sticky notes between the closed pages and a few on the open ones: the book invited you to read. The notes carried Jihoon’s neat handwriting, retelling the contents of the page. Better yet: these were notes about mythological creatures described in the book: 

‘Chimera. pg 6: Daughter of Typhon and Echidna. pg 18: lion's body and head, snake for a tail, breathes fire?’

When you glanced back at him, smiling brightly, he was already nose-deep in a different book, paying you no attention.

[Y.JH.: watch a porno together 😉]

Jihoon stared at his friend’s message for a total of five minutes. He then decided that he should stop taking advice from Jeonghan. 

He turned to the group chat for help instead.

“You’re going to drive yourself insane before finals even start,” he warned you with a fond smile as you flipped through your worksheets, thoroughly checking each and every one to make sure you hadn’t missed anything.

You offered him a tired glare and turned back to your task. “I’m already halfway there, might as well commit.”

[X.MH.: take her on a walk. enjoy the weather.]

Minghao’s suggestion rang in his head as he watched you. After all, he himself often went on ridiculously long walks in the park when he ran into a metaphorical wall with his work and studies, as did many of his friends. Perhaps it would help you too: romance and relaxation in one – a win on two fronts.

“Do you—” He hesitated. Why did he always hesitate? Even he himself was starting to get annoyed by it. He shook his head to clear his mind and fix his hair before trying again, “Do you want to go on a walk?”

You froze. “A walk?”

He hummed. “To clear your mind. Some fresh air might be good for you. Resets your brain and what-not.”

You mulled it over in your head: assignments versus your adorable boyfriend?

“Fine,” you finally huffed, feigning annoyance, “but I’m going to pet every dog I see and you can’t stop me.”

He laughed at the idea, already imagining it in his head, and got up from the floor before extending a hand to help you up as well. “You’d have to try to stop me first. I’m known for attracting random dogs.”

You took his hand and stretched. “I wonder why.”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged and handed you your jacket before shrugging on his own. He tried not to think about how your jackets matched – almost like a couple’s item.

Soon, the two of you were walking side by side in the park, laughing at everything and nothing and Seokmin’s attempt to fit in a kids’ swing that you saw in the passing. 

As always, your hand found Jihoon’s before he could find the courage to seek your affection. Fingers squeezing together, his skin blissfully on fire against yours – he wondered why he never dared to make the first move and reach for your hand. But if he wasn’t the one to initiate, he at least had an excuse to not let you go.

“How come I’m your first girlfriend?” you wondered, searching his face for answers.

He shrugged. “You just are.”

“You really never had anyone else before?” He shook his head. “Not even a fling?” Another shake of his head. “A hook-up?” He blushed and shook his head harder. You frowned in confusion. “How? You’re, like, perfect. Other girls must have swarmed around you like bees around honey.”

“Don’t be silly,” he denied in a hushed voice, avoiding your eyes so he could act like his ears weren’t redder than the late autumn leaves. 

“I know I wanted you to be mine the moment I saw you,” you mumbled with a pout, offended on his behalf. “So, why were you single all this time then?”

Jihoon shrugged once again, his lips in a tight line of awkwardness. “I just wasn’t interested, I guess. Too busy studying.”

“Then,” you hummed in thought before turning to him again, this time eyes shining with mischief, “have you ever kissed anyone before?”

He paled. “I– Uh– Technically…”

“Technically?” you pressed eagerly.

He cleared his throat. “Technically I’ve been kissed by one person.”

“Technically?!” You were scandalised, baffled, puzzled, curious beyond belief. He could only laugh hopelessly as you stopped him and grabbed him by the shoulders to stare at him, your mouth agape. “Who was it? Was she pretty?”

“Pretty?” He grimaced. It was too late to lie now – might as well commit to his honesty streak. “In his own way, I suppose–”

“HIS?!” Your jaw dropped even more as he avoided your eyes. 

“Let’s just pretend I didn’t say anything–”

“No, I need the truth,” you laughed, almost maniacal with both joy and curiosity. You gripped his shoulders, promising to not let him go until you got the answers. “Who was it? Jihoon, you have to tell me.”

He sighed deeply. His head tilted back so he could stare towards the sky, calling for an extraterrestrial life-form to abduct him. He had been doing so great so far… Why did he have to be damn honest with you?

After thirty seconds, he accepted that the aliens hadn’t found his calls appealing enough. He sighed and slumped before you, head lolling forward as he confessed, “Do you know Kwon Soonyoung?”

You burst into laughter, jumping away from him to bounce in joy (Jihoon wondered if maybe the impending sense of finals’ season doom was too much for you) as you repeated, “Kwon Soonyoung? The tiger guy?”

“Of course that’s what you know him for,” he mumbled under his breath, hand reaching up to rub at his eyes so he could avoid eye contact a little longer. “Just so you know, it was nothing serious: he just decided to kiss me on the playground in, like, 6th grade one day.” He sighed deeply at the memory, still unsure how he felt about it after all these years.

But you were too busy giggling to acknowledge his dismay. “On the lips?”

He grimaced. “On the lips.”

“Full on?”

“Full on,” he sighed.

Before he could scold you to not tell anyone else (not that it mattered anyway: Soonyoung had taken it upon himself to share the tale with every person he met anyway), you were in front of him again, still smiling brightly. His scowl melted into a gentle smile at the sight – he sucked at being mad at you.

“Like this?” You leaned forward, placed your hands on his cheeks, and pulled him in for a kiss of your own. 

All of a sudden, Jihoon swore he was floating. He wrapped his arms around your waist to anchor himself as he leaned further into you, unwilling to part from your lips. Even as you attempted to pull away, he chased after your lips, unsatisfied until you melted back into the kiss. 

When he finally ran out of air, you began giggling, a shy glow on your cheeks as you looked at his still-closed eyes. “So?”

“What?” he wondered, slow to open his eyes, and even when he finally did, his eyelids drooped like he was still waking up from the sweetest of dreams. 

“Was the kiss historically accurate?” you joked, leaning closer to brush your nose against his.

He was unable to even laugh. Only a dopey smile appeared on his face as he whispered, “No, it was so much better.”

[H.JS.: surprise her with flowers]

[i dont know what kind of flowers she likes tho??]

[W.JH.: unless she’s allergic, i dont think it matters]

Despite still being unsure whether the group chat was helpful or just plain useless, Jihoon followed their advice like it was the law. 

Flowers? He could find flowers. Easy. They’re sold almost everywhere. Surely, he could figure out something as simple and universal as flowers. 

Wrong.

The moment he stepped into the flower store, he felt like a five-year-old left unattended in a new city. He hadn’t even realised there were so many options. He gulped. 

“Can I help you?” an oddly familiar voice called out to him and he whipped his head around in search of the speaker. He found Wonwoo staring back at him, his eyes shining with mischief upon recognising his new customer.

Jihoon grimaced. “I– Nevermind.” 

But when he tried to leave, Wonwoo grabbed him by the hood of his white sweatshirt and dragged him further into the store. “Are you going to buy your girlfriend flowers? Like Joshua suggested?”

“I– No– Why would I–” Jihoon’s resolve broke under Wonwoo’s knowing glare. He lowered his gaze to the floor and sheepishly nodded. 

Wonwoo let out a small sound of victory before asking, “So, what kind of flowers do you want to get her?”

“That’s the thing,” Jihoon sighed deeply, “I have no clue what to get.”

His florist friend hummed in understanding. “Is she more of a daisy or a rose girl?”

Jihoon offered him a confused look. “How am I supposed to know? I’ve only dated her for a month.”

“Roses may be a bit much then,” Wonwoo concluded with a squint of his eyes before heading somewhere in the store, once again grabbing Jihoon by the hood and dragging him along. 

Jihoon could only whine quietly in protest. “Can you stop doing that?”

“No.” The answer was plain, clear, and left no room for argument. “I think tulips are the way to go.”

Jihoon had no further complaints as Wonwoo began piling flowers into his arms. Once he was satisfied, he led Jihoon to the counter – by the hood, once again, as if he was a cat mom carrying her kitten – and began arranging them into a bouquet. 

“Do you want me to tie a bow for them?” he asked but Jihoon gave him no answer.  When he looked up again, his love-sick friend was staring at the newly-complete bouquet in awe.  Wonwoo smiled and handed him the flowers. “There. Do you think she’ll like them?”

“I– How did you know… ?”

Wonwoo’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Was I right?”

Jihoon could only nod before fishing his wallet out. “I seriously owe you one. You’re good at this.”

On the way to your dorm, he couldn’t stop staring at the bouquet. The tulips were exactly the colours he associated with you, as if Wonwoo had read his mind and translated it into flowers. Now he could only adjust them a little and pray you’d like them as much as he did.

A deep breath. A soft knock on your door. 

Your roommate opened the door, her eyes lighting up with excitement upon recognising him and noticing the flowers in his arms. She practically dragged him inside while calling out to you, “(Y/n), your Prince Charming arrived!”

Before he could say anything, she patted his shoulder and leaned over to whisper “She’ll love them” before all but bouncing out the front door, offering him one last cheeky wink before she left. 

“Jihoon?” he then heard you call out from a distance. “Is that you?”

He called back a confirmation before following your voice to your room. Just as he often did, he found you seated on your bed, your (newly fixed) laptop in front of you, surrounded by endless pages of homework and research. He smiled at the familiar sight.

“Are you busy studying again?” he wondered, his voice impossibly soft just like his heart was for you. “Should I come back later?”

Without looking up, you shook your head. “No, no, please stay. I just have to finish this table and then–” Your gaze lifted to meet his by habit, at which point your jaw dropped. Soon, a smile forced itself onto your face. “Jihoon!”

He feigned ignorance, his lips quirking. “Why?”

“Did you–” You couldn’t even finish your sentence, unable to find the words as tears of joy gathered in the corners of your eyes. Pursing your lips to will yourself to not cry, you got up from the bed and walked over to hug him. You held him tight while he just laughed fondly. 

“Why?” he asked again, his free hand reaching up to caress your cheek. 

You pouted. “You got me flowers?”

When you stepped back, he lifted up the bouquet and asked, “What? This?” You nodded and he laughed again, so completely endeared by your reaction. “Do you like them that much?”

“I love them,” you said and took the flowers from his hands, already rushing to the kitchen to fill a vase with flowers. Despite not leaving your room, he could hear you mumbling, “Oh my god, you’re really going to make me cry at this rate.”

Upon returning with a vase full of water and beautiful flowers, you placed it on your desk by the window. The afternoon light hit them just right and it made you want to cry even more. 

You turned to him again. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers like this before. They’re so pretty.”

“Not as pretty as you,” he spoke before his mental filter could catch it. He bit down on his tongue the moment he closed his mouth, unable to believe he let the words slip without even thinking about them. 

To his relief, you didn’t seem to mind. If anything, the carelessly spoken compliment made you glow even more. You laughed in joy and pulled him to sit with you on the bed. He could barely find his balance on the soft mattress before your lips were on his. 

He decided he’d gift you flowers more often if this was the thanks he earned.

On a sleepless night, Jihoon came to an embarrassing realisation: he had never once initiated a kiss with you. In fact, when it came to physical affection, he hadn’t initiated anything. 

The realisation was greatly aided by Boo Seungkwan’s 2 am reply to another one of Jihoon’s cries for help. 

[B.SK.: kiss her, you idiot!]

“Kiss her?” Jihoon re-read the message the next day before grimacing in anxiety. He couldn’t even hold your hand without blushing – how was he supposed to initiate a whole kiss? Knowing him, he’d probably accidentally end up kissing your nose or, even worse, ear. The thought made him want to cry so he curled up on a random beanbag on campus, hugging his backpack to his chest, and glared at the message Seungkwan had sent him. 

“Who made my Jihoon upset?” your voice carried through the hallway. He looked up to find you walking towards him, a bright smile on your face. Catching his gaze, you smiled brighter before adding to your joke, “Should I go beat someone up? Who was it? Mingyu? Soonyoung?”

“Seungkwan,” he mumbled against the fabric of his bag as you approached him and pressed a kiss to his temple. He could practically feel his ears betraying him and squeezed his eyes shut to will the blush to leave. 

Your hand found his hair, stroking it gently. “Seungkwan? The guy who hosts almost every campus event?” He nodded solemnly and you scoffed. “I can take Seungkwan. He should be afraid of me.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought, opening his eyes to glance up at you. He didn’t dare to move with the way you were still stroking his dark hair, looking at him so fondly. What if you were startled by his movement and never played with his hair again? No, he couldn’t risk it. He closed his eyes again, enjoying the feeling. 

Without even realising it, he leaned into your embrace like a pet looking for warmth. Soon, his head rested against your chest, your fingers still in his hair while his own curled into the fabric of your blouse. He wished this moment lasted forever and then some more. 

“So, what did Seungkwan do that you’re like this?” you wondered and he felt the rumble of your voice. He suddenly found he liked it even better this way. 

With a small smile on his face, he whispered, “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” you wondered. “He must’ve done something.”

“He’s just annoying.” If it hadn’t been for your questions, Jihoon would’ve fallen asleep right there, pressed against you like a tired child. But instead, he came to an annoying realisation. “Do you not have a jacket today?”

“Nope,” he heard you reply.

He hissed at that, gently slapping your side as punishment for crimes against yourself. “It’s cold outside.”

“I run hot,” you made an excuse.

He scoffed. “You whined you were cold the last time you came to my dorm, even though it’s only, like, two degrees colder there than yours.”

You stayed silent at that. He basked in your warmth for a little longer before sitting back up straight and glaring at you. He then fidgeted with the sleeves of your blouse for a moment before scoffing and standing up to pull off his black hoodie. Unceremoniously, he shoved it to you, paying no mind to the puzzled look on your face.

“Put it on,” he finally told you when you made no move to read his mind. “I won’t baby you if you get sick.”

“I won’t get sick–” you began to protest only for him to roll his eyes, grab the hoodie, and pull it over your head himself. 

His hands gently guided your own through the sleeves before reaching down to pull the rest of the hoodie down as much as he could. (He made a mental note to invest in a longer hoodie for next time.) As a final touch, he reached up to pull the hood over your head, tying the strings into a neat bow below your chin once he had pulled the fabric around your head – tight enough to make you look just a little bit goofy. 

Surprised by his actions, you were frozen in place in front of him. With your cheeks squished by the fabric, you looked just so damn adorable. Jihoon didn’t even think before leaning closer and pressing his lips against your slightly pouted ones. 

He pulled away, nodded and smiled – satisfied with his handiwork. The realisation of his actions wouldn’t hit him for another hour.

[W.JH.: i heard her class is having a big seminar this wednesday. maybe you should cheer for her?]

[how would i do that…?]

Jihoon never received a reply to his question. Odd, and incredibly annoying. But he guessed it was only fair: his friends couldn’t give him all the answers. Some things he’d have to figure out himself. 

Just as he was contemplating on what to do, his phone buzzed. Hoping for a late reply from his friends, he immediately reached for his phone. To his surprise, it was a message from you instead:

[Y/N: if u never hear from me again, assume i had a heart attack in front of the classroom]

[Y/N: god, i hate seminars so much]

Jihoon paused. Is this what Junhui had meant? He took a deep breath and typed a reply.

[where are you? i’ll come to you.]

He was halfway out of the building by the time you answered.

[Y/N: linguistics building, seminar 321]

Despite never having been to the linguistics’ building before and having close to zero clue where he would even find this room, he ran to where you said you’d be. His lungs were burning from lack of air by the time he got to you and yet his heart ached even more than they did: all it took was one look at your shaky hands as you paced back and forth outside of the seminar room. 

“Are you… Are you okay?” he asked through his laboured breaths once he reached you, his hand immediately reaching for yours to ease the shaking. 

You sighed in relief at the sight of him. “Jihoon…”

“I’m here,” he whispered with an encouraging smile before letting you burrow into his embrace. On most days, he would have much rather dug a hole and crawled in there than let anyone show him this kind of affection in public. But he was willing to make an exception for you.

Then he spotted the familiar baffled face of Soonyoung from the corner of his eyes and cringed: he would never live this down.

“I’m so nervous about my presentation,” you whispered into his jacket and all of his attention was back on you as if by magic. 

He scoffed out a laugh, unable to believe your words. “Are you kidding? You’ll be great.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve seen you give presentations before,” he reminded you with a gentle pat on your head. “You did great the last time, I doubt this time will be different.”

You wanted to cry at the memory, completely unable to see it the way he did. “I stuttered the entire time and mixed up the slides.”

“Yeah, but it was still fine.”

“It was so embarrassing.”

“It was endearing,” he argued immediately. “Besides, you laughed it off and you still got the maximum grade. Sometimes mistakes happen, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be the end of the world.”

You leaned out of his embrace to chuckle hopelessly. “I can’t decide if you’re really good or really bad at giving motivational speeches.”

“But do you feel better?” You nodded and he grinned brightly. “Then that’s all you need. Now go on in and show them what they’re missing in— What class is this?”

“Environmental Anthropology,” you answered with a sigh and he grimaced: it sounded far from appealing and he didn’t even dare ask if it was an elective or a mandatory subject.

Deciding to just go with it, he forced on a smile (his eyebrows still high on his forehead as half of his brain tried to figure out what that course even dealt with) and gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Go get them, tiger.”

You laughed at his expression and nodded, feeling a little better already. You turned to head into class, but turned on your heel at the last moment, catching his eyes. He raised a single brow in question and you asked, “Can we go out to eat after this?”

He frowned, eyes saddening. “I wish I could. I have work in an hour. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.”

However, he could never stand the look of disappointment that grazed your face every once in a while. And when it made an appearance once again, he wanted nothing more than to comfort you. “But,” he started and you seemed to lighten up already, “you could come to the café and hang out with me there. My treat,” he promised before pointing an accusatory finger at you, “but only if you ace that presentation.”

“I… I can do that,” you nodded, more to convince yourself than him. “Yeah. I can definitely do that.”

Jihoon spent the next two hours panicking on your behalf. 

Even as he took orders and made cup after cup after cup of coffee, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He couldn’t help but feel like he could’ve done more to boost your confidence. Hell, who wants to hear they were ‘endearing’ during a presentation they felt like they messed up on? 

When the third hour of waiting began, he was half-sure you wouldn’t come to the café. Perhaps you had failed miserably or maybe you really did have a heart attack in front of the classroom. Jihoon was on the verge of spiralling.

“Okay, you’re going to burn your hand at this rate,” Seokmin scolded before ushering him away from the espresso machine. “Just man the register. I’ll deal with the coffee. God, what’s up with you today?”

Jihoon let out a soft whine of protest but followed the orders, waddling over to the register. It was a slow day and he was still messing up – what were you doing to him?

“So?” Seokmin asked again after delivering a customer’s flat white. 

“What?” Jihoon was barely even paying attention to the fact that he was being spoken to. His eyes were constantly stuck on the door. 

Any moment now. Any moment you’d walk in, a smile on your face, telling him you passed. Any moment.

Seokmin raised a brow. “What’s bothering you? Seriously, you’re not usually this aloof. Why are you staring at the door?”

“(Y/n)” was all Jihoon managed to mumble.

But it was enough for his friend. Seokmin laughed. “I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”

“What if she isn’t?” Jihoon whispered, still stuck in a dazed mix of anxiety and hope. “What if I messed up?”

Before Seokmin could even begin to comfort him, Jihoon felt like he could breathe again. There you were, practically running towards the café in your rush to get to him. He didn’t even realise he was leaning further and further towards the door, leaning against the countertop under Seokmin’s amused eyes. 

“Jihoon!” you called out once you made it to the café, dashing up the counter to pull his face to yours and press your lips against his. After pulling away again, you smiled brightly. “Guess what?”

He forgot all the vocabulary he had acquired over his life. Your name was the closest thing to a word in there. He was just glad to see you again.

You rolled your eyes at his silence but still laughed. “Jihoon, I told you to guess.”

He cleared his throat and prayed his ears weren’t too red before he found his voice. “You passed?”

“I passed,” you confirmed with an excited fist pump in the air, “and the professor said I had the best presentation in the whole course.”

“Whoa, go, girl!” Seokmin cheered, bumping his fist against yours in celebration.

Jihoon matched your bright smiles and told you, “I knew you could do it. Come on, pick what you want to eat. My treat.”

As you excitedly went to check out the cake options, Seokmin stared at him in awe. Jihoon shrugged. “What?”

“How come you never treat me?” his friend sounded almost offended.

“You never asked.”

Seokmin frowned and turned to you. “Did you ask him to treat you?”

“Nope.”

He turned to glare at Jihoon again. “Favouritism. Clear favouritism. I’ll remember this.”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Jihoon argued with a puzzled frown of his own.

[W.JH.: tie her shoelaces]

Walks in the park or even just around the campus became a routine for the two of you very quickly. More often than not, your shared study sessions in the library would lead to a shared knowing look, standing up in silence, and heading out the door for a break. Always hand-in-hand, like puzzle pieces.

The weather was windier than usual that day, blowing dead leaves and hats around the park grounds. Who knows how long it would be before snow would join the items flying in the wind – the temperature of the air certainly suggested it would happen soon. 

Jihoon barely managed to catch your scarf before it fell victim to the wind. 

“Maybe not the best day for a walk,” he concluded with a sheepish laugh while wrapping the scarf around your neck a little tighter than before, making sure it wouldn’t fly again. 

You laughed along. “Yeah, maybe we should’ve gone to the café instead.”

He sighed deeply – as a joke – before narrowing his eyes at you. “Just say you’re dating me for café discounts. Admit it.”

“Well,” you hummed, “your staff discounts are definitely a bonus.”

He chuckled and nudged your side. “Do you want to go to the café then? Maybe some cocoa could warm you up.”

“But some fresh air might be good for you. Resets your brain and what-not,” you repeated his own words back to him with a mischievous smile.

“Is that–?” His jaw dropped. “How do you even remember that?”

“It was a very memorable quote by my favourite author,” you joked and pinched his cheek before grabbing his hand to lead him to the café.

You barely made it two steps before he was tugging you to a stop, his gaze lowered. You blinked. “Did something happen?” 

He didn’t reply. A message from Junhui flashed in his mind. Was he allowed to follow his advice like that? And if so, what was the best way to go about it? Crouching down? Leading you to a bench and making you lift your foot? Fully kneeling in front of you like the simp he was? 

Ears burning under your questioning stare, he finally leaned down onto one knee, his fingers reaching for your shoelaces. 

Your heart skipped a beat as realisation hit. 

With what you could only assume was practised grace (because who knows how many times he had repeated this exact gesture for his friends – Soonyoung alone must have accounted for at least twenty), he gently pulled your foot closer to himself and gently double-knotted the laces. He decided to re-do the other shoe as well if he was already on task. 

Once both shoes were undoubtedly tied and unable to come undone without permission again, he hummed in approval and stood back up, brushing the dirt off his knee before his gaze lifted to meet yours. He offered a sheepish smile at the dazed look on your face. 

“Why?” he laughed.

“You’re seriously–” you began but never finished, reaching for his hand instead. 

[K.MG.: give her a nickname]

Jihoon wasn’t very fond of nicknames. He wasn’t like Jeonghan who could come up with a new dumb nickname for every person he met or like Soonyoung who could react to any nickname thrown his way. Jihoon was just Jihoon and his friends were just his friends – no nicknames needed.

So, when he read Mingyu’s message, he froze. A nickname for his girlfriend? It felt like such an enormous task.

Stuck in an endless loop of processing even weeks after, Jihoon still couldn’t come up with a nickname that felt like you. Nothing sounded quite as pretty or as melodious as your name. Nothing came even close in his mind. When he thought of you, it was always just (Y/n). 

And it wasn’t like you had given him a nickname either. He would’ve noticed if you had – he noticed everything you did. 

If anyone saw into his brain, they would’ve seen a suspicious number of facts and quirks of yours. They would’ve thought he was a spy trying to steal your identity. But he was nothing of the sort. The only thing he aimed to steal was your heart (and maybe a kiss, or two, or two hundred).

Frankly, Vernon was sick of the sound of Jihoon’s pen rolling back and forth, struggling between gravity and Jihoon’s strength, on the slanted desk of their shared room. If having to contemplate cheesy pet names with a distraught Jihoon was the answer, Vernon was willing to sacrifice a bit of his sanity for a different background audio. 

“Maybe see if a pet name would work,” he suggested upon seeing his misery. 

Jihoon blinked. “Pet name? Like Fluffy?”

“No, like–” Vernon’s brows furrowed. “Dude, are you okay? Should I call a doctor?”

Jihoon only groaned and slumped over his desk, fully resting his cheek against it now. 

“I meant nicknames like babe and sweetheart and the sort,” his roommate explained, brows still set in a concerned frown. “Why would you call her Fluffy?”

“At this rate, I might as well.”

Vernon was scandalised. “Call her Fluffy?!”

Jihoon sat up straight to frown at Vernon. “No, see if I find a pet name I like for her. What is wrong with you?”

“You started it!”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. So, what do you have to offer?”

“Let’s start with the basics,” Vernon suggested, leaning back on his bed happily now that the pen was no longer obnoxiously rolling. “Babe?”

“Gross.”

“Baby?” 

“Even worse.”

“Sweetheart.”

Jihoon hesitated. “I– Maybe? Let’s put that under maybe.”

“Great! That’s progress,” Vernon cheered with a smile before resuming his position. “Then, what about dear?”

“Sounds so old-fashioned. I don’t want to sound like an English grandma whenever I call for my girlfriend.”

Vernon froze before nodding in agreement. “Yeah, you definitely have a point there.”

They were both tired of the guessing game by the time fifteen minutes passed. They bid each other farewell and headed their separate ways. It was only noon.

The solution? Non-existent. Jihoon still didn’t know what to call you.

And to add to his problems, he soon realised he hadn’t heard from you all day. Your chat was no more full than the previous evening, his call history was even worse off. He hadn’t even seen you on campus. 

Worry got the worst of him and now he was taking the first step instead of you. His worry won over his hesitation and he called you, lifting his phone to his ear all the while glancing around campus anxiously.

You didn’t pick up the first call. Nor the second. Before pressing on the screen to call a third time, he silently swore he’d run through all of your usual spots if you left him hanging like this. Heck, he might even call the police.

“Jihoon?” he then heard your voice through the phone and a stone fell off his heart.

He sighed in relief. “(Y/n), are you okay? I was worried.”

“Dorm,” you whispered meekly into the mic, elaborating no further no matter how much he prompted you. 

His frown only grew with every passing moment of silence on your part. “Do you want me to come over?”

“Please,” you whispered once again and then he heard the most heart-breaking sound: a soft sob. You were crying. 

He cursed under his breath. You were crying and he wasn’t there. “Hold on a little longer, I’ll be there.”

He wasted not a second more and sprinted to your dormitory. With his hands shaking from both worry and exhaustion, it took him two tries to get the door code right, but once the door clicked open, he dashed up the stairs and to your room. 

The door of your room was unlocked and ajar when he arrived and he just about fell through it in an attempt to lean against it for a quick breath. He stumbled into your room and his heart dropped some more, so close to shattering.

“(Y/n), darling,” he whispered before practically throwing himself into the spot next to you, already pulling you into his embrace, “what happened?”

You didn’t say anything, quietly crying into his sweater instead. Jihoon almost wanted to cry with you. “Talk to me. What happened? What can I do to make it better?”

“I fought with my roommate,” you whispered eventually. “I might have to move out.”

“Move out?” he wondered. “Was it that bad?” You didn’t answer, only letting out another soft sob as you further burrowed into his arms. He sighed. “Oh, darling.”

You remained in his arms for a while, stuck between crying over a lost friendship and relishing in his comfort. “I thought she was my friend. God, I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” he protested immediately, perhaps even a little too forcefully for your fragile emotional state. He sighed once again, deeper, before pressing a kiss to your temple. “Do you want me to help you find a new place to stay?”

“I could just ask to be assigned to a different dorm,” you mumbled. “It’s no big deal.”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to get your own apartment though?”

“I mean… It would be nice.”

“I can help you pay the deposit,” he offered. He wasn’t sure if he was always this kind or if seeing you so broken made him overcompensate more than usual – come to think of it: there was clearly a pattern forming.

Either way – he mentally ran over the numbers in his bank account –, he could afford to help. 

You sighed. “You don’t have to, Jihoon, it’s fine–”

“Don’t argue with me,” he warned half-jokingly. “Do you want to get your own place or not?”

Still leaning into his chest, you looked up at him. “You’d– You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he shrugged as if he had only offered you a candy bar. “Besides, if you get your own place, I benefit too.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Vernon not letting you sleep in again?”

“I’ve never wanted to strangle someone so bad,” he whispered while squeezing his eyes shut. “And he’s so messy. I need a break every once in a while.”

“So, your only condition is that I let you sleep over?” you chuckled and kissed his cheek which promptly turned red. “Why not just move in with me then?”

He blushed harder. “I think it’s too early for that. Maybe in a few months.”

You pouted at that. “You’re so mean. I was so ready to celebrate moving in with my boyfriend. Tsk.”

“Give me a few months,” he whispered – promised. “I’ll be with you in just a few months, darling.”

[J. WW.: take her on a picnic in the park during your free period. i hear the cherry trees are blossoming.]

Sandwiches, cake from the café, a thermos full of your favourite tea, a blanket – was anything missing? Well, other than his courage, because he had been staring at the basket for at least half an hour now as if his feet were nailed to the kitchen floor. 

Even Vernon, as patient as he was, had begun to contemplate how to unglue Jihoon so he could freely access the fridge again. 

“Dude,” he finally sighed, “can you move? I’m hungry.”

“There’s food on the stove,” Jihoon mumbled off-handedly, still in a panicked daze. Vernon glanced towards the stove and found nothing on it. 

Why was he so panicked anyway? It was one thing to hesitate before kissing you, but this? This was worse. He was paralysed by fear and he didn’t even understand why.

It’s not like this was your first date.

“Have you never taken a girl out on a date before?” Vernon wondered, brows furrowing as he attempted to make sure his roommate hadn’t been replaced by a faulty android or a hologram.

And just as the words left Vernon’s mouth, Jihoon seemed to wake up. His eyes widened. “I’ve never taken a girl out on a date before.”

Vernon blinked. “You’ve been dating her since, like, fall.”

“Yeah, but she initiated everything,” Jihoon whined, suddenly hyper aware of the way his knees felt like jelly and his hands trembled. 

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

“First date?”

“She took me to the movies.”

“First kiss?” 

“She went in first.”

“Who asked the other one out?”

“She asked me.” Jihoon let out another whine. “God, I’m so bad at this whole boyfriend thing. Isn’t there, like, a manual or something?”

“If there is, you’d probably be better off,” Vernon pointed out with a chuckle. “Dude, if she’s stuck with you this long, then she’s not going to break up with you over you taking her on a picnic.”

“But what if she’s actually busy or it rains or–”

“What’s with you and all those what-ifs? Just get out there, take her hand and have a picnic.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Jihoon whispered and hung his head in shame.

“Because it is that easy.”

It was not, in fact, that easy. Jihoon tripped almost three times just on the way to meet you at the park – that’s how nervous he was. And it’s not like he was afraid of you or your reaction. 

He just wanted everything to be perfect. Because you were perfect. And if he couldn’t be perfect with or for you, what was even the point?

Still, even as his nerves threatened to make him throw up in a nearby garbage can, he braved through the anxiety and made his way over to you. He forced on a smile as he approached you, but it soon melted into a genuine one upon seeing your excited grin.

“Hi, darling,” he whispered before leaning over to kiss your cheek. “Did you have a good day?”

“It’s barely afternoon,” you joked. Jihoon grimaced: first strike. Two more and he’d pay someone to throw him off a bridge. (He noted that Seungcheol or Joshua seemed like a good choice for that.)

“So,” you rubbed your palms together after helping him set the blanket on the ground, “what are we eating?”

He breathed out shakily before opening the basket. “So… there’s sandwiches – I didn’t know which ones you’d like more so I made a bunch of everything, but if you don’t like any, I’ll run to the store and–”

“Jihoon,” you stopped him with a stern smile and a pat on his cheek – strike two –, “baby, stop acting like it’s the first time we’ve interacted. There’s no need to be shy with me. I love you regardless.”

“I’m sorry, I just–”

“Stop apologising.” Strike three – might as well decide on a bridge now.

“I just want everything to be perfect for you,” he admitted with a sad smile, “but I guess I get too in my own head about it and then–”

You leaned forward and kissed him before he could go any further. When you leaned back, his eyes were wide in disbelief. 

“You– Why did you do that?”

“You were rambling too much.” You smiled at him again, sweeter this time, before kissing him once more. “Everything is perfect already. This picnic is perfect. The weather is perfect. This moment is perfect. You’re perfect. Don’t worry so much. Just breathe and enjoy.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours once again: a gift because you always knew exactly what to say.

“So,” your smile never seemed to fade, “can you stop worrying about everything now?”

He breathed out a defeated sigh and nodded, earning a cheer from you. 

As the two of you began eating, he made conversation, “So, how’s your apartment search going?”

You shrugged. “I’ve found two places. I’m going to see the second one tomorrow, but the first one is very nice. Like, way too nice for that price.”

“And that’s bad somehow?” He laughed.

“It’s way below market rate. It’s too good to be true,” you told him with a soft sigh, closing your eyes as he mindlessly reached to play with your fingers. “I wonder what the quirk is. Like, why is it so cheap? The landlord seemed like a sweet woman and all, but there’s bound to be something weird about that place, right?”

“Maybe it’s haunted,” he joked, making a ‘scary’ face as he stared at you, only to prompt a laugh. 

“Will you come and save me if it is?”

He grimaced. “Hell no. Ghosts are scary business. You’d have to find a different boyfriend.”

“Fine, fine,” you laughed and patted his cheek, “leave all the saving to me instead, then. I’ll protect you.”

“My hero,” he swooned, a hand over his heart. 

You stared at the ceiling of your new bedroom, practically vibrating with anxiety about the day to come as well as the added responsibilities of adulting outside of a dorm. 

Jihoon, having agreed to stay a few nights for mental support (and a Marvel movie marathon), gave you a weird look.

“Sorry,” you apologised and willed your body to stay still, sure you had annoyed your boyfriend into leaving, “I guess I’m just more nervous about tomorrow than I thought.”

“I think you’re overthinking this,” he chuckled and leaned over to brush a stray hair off your forehead. “It’s just a seminar. You’ve been to those before.”

“Yeah, but this one’s in a foreign language,” you whined and rolled over to hide your face in his chest. “You know my French sucks.”

He scoffed but was thoroughly amused. “I’ve never even heard you speak French.”

“Exactly. Point proven. Now let me suffer in peace.”

Jihoon sighed and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer and pressing his lips to your head. “Is there any way I can help you feel better?”

You shook your head ‘no’ and burrowed further into the comforting darkness his sweater provided. You had no interest in being comforted – what you needed was to go to sleep before 3 am and not wake up with nightmares. Unfortunately, Jihoon couldn’t do that for you, as amazing as he was.

He was just as stumped, but less in the mood to give up. In fact, he was rarely in the mood to give up. 

Still feeling you shaking in his arms, he reached his free hand to get his phone and text the group chat once again, begging for help as he had done so many times before. The help came faster than ever before, as if his friends had a shared 7th sense for Jihoon’s girlfriend troubles.

[C.VN.: bro, arent u good at singing? have u sung to her?]

[but… what do i sing?]

[K.SY.: a song.]

[whaT SONG?]

[X.MH.: you’re literally a music major, i’m sure you can think of a song or two??]

[i’m a uni student, not a jukebox??]

With sleep still unwilling to claim you, you sighed deeply. There was no room to further burrow into your boyfriend’s comforting embrace. An idea hit: maybe a cup of nice peppermint tea could calm you down. 

“Ji, can we go make–” you quietly began but were interrupted by a soft rumbling of his chest. And then you heard it: he was humming. You lifted your head to watch him, unable to tear your eyes from the way his lips oh-so-gracefully parted to sing to you, even as he was still searching for the lyrics on his phone.

Suddenly realising you had said something, he paused, eyes widening as he looked at you. “Sorry, did you say something?”

You shook your head no and continued staring at him. 

Awkward under you gaze, his ears flushed red. He avoided your eyes and turned back to his phone, scrolling through it as a distraction: ads had never looked so interesting before.

“Keep singing,” you whispered to him, hoping he’d hear your plea and fulfil your wish.

He took a deep breath, his hand freezing on the tiny screen. And just as you had hoped, his lips parted again. This time, he really sang, lyrics and all. His voice carried through your room, echoing back from the yet-to-be-decorated walls and filling the space in a comforting manner.

As you listened to him, you realised he had never sung to you before. He had hidden this part of himself for so long. And yet you were already enamoured with it. 

When he finished one song, his lips pursed back together and he hummed a mysterious melody that you could only suspect he had come up with on the spot to fill the silence. Then he began a second song, then a third.

By the fifth song, you were blissfully unaware of your daily troubles and the seminar waiting for you at 10 am. You were deep asleep in his arms, feeling the safest you ever had.

Upon realising you had finally succumbed to the call of dreamland, Jihoon chuckled and locked his phone. His newly free hand reached to stroke your cheek. 

“Little Miss Can’t Fall Asleep falls asleep a lot easier than she claims,” he joked to noone in particular and craned his neck to press another kiss to your temple before settling back down and closing his own eyes. 

[S.SC.: go shopping with her. i’m sure she needs some things for her new place. she might appreciate the company.]

“I still don’t understand how you don’t have a car,” you started up the topic for the third time this hour. 

Jihoon had never considered you annoying before – not even to the mildest extent – but he was slowly starting to get annoyed. He sighed. “Getting a licence seems like such a hassle.”

“It’s freeing,” you argued, amused by your new-found ability to annoy him even the tiniest bit. “You don’t depend on public transportation or your friends anymore. It’s great.”

“I can get everywhere on foot just fine.” He rolled his eyes and lifted a hand to cover your mouth as you began to speak again. “Didn’t you say you needed new towels? I’m pretty sure we walked straight past those.”

Unable to form proper words under the weight of his hand, you just hummed and let him lead you back to the towel aisle. It was only once you were there that he removed his hand again, wiping it against his hoodie. “Why do you need new towels anyway? It’s not like the ones you’ve used so far are contaminated.”

“It’s the principle, Jihoon,” you told him while scanning through the options. “New place, new me – that type of deal.”

“Sounds like a trick of capitalism,” he joked and leaned his torso forward against the shopping cart you had already half-filled with baskets, blankets, cushions and pillows of all shapes and sizes. 

You turned to glare at him. “Are you my boyfriend or my financial advisor?”

“Both, if you pay me well enough.”

“Whatever. What colour towels should I get?”

He shrugged. “I’m a big fan of the colour black.”

You sighed. “That’s so boring. How about blue?”

He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes in thought. “I could be persuaded.”

“I’m taking that as a yes,” you sang and picked up two of the larger fluffy blue towels – one lighter and the other darker in shade. You barely managed to fit them in the cart before your eyes lit up with a new quest in sight. “Oh, we need slippers too.”

He only hummed and swiftly (or as swiftly as one can move a shopping cart that clearly has never been maintained in the 10 years it's been in use) manoeuvred the cart to follow after you. Once he finally found you in the footwear aisle, he was confronted by two pairs of slippers – one black, the other baby pink – in his face. He tilted his head to offer you a confused look.

Without any malice behind it, you sighed and rolled your eyes. “Pick a colour.”

“Black.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I know you’re waiting for me to tell you ‘pink’ and I’m not giving you nor Mingyu that satisfaction,” he countered before nodding towards his colour of choice again. “Black.”

“Fine,” you sighed in defeat and placed the pink ones back, only to pick up a different size of the same colour and place it in the cart. 

His eyebrows rose. “What are you–?”

“What size slippers do you wear?” 

“Me?” He frowned. “Why would my opinion on any of this matter? It’s your apartment. Why are you making me choose the colour of the towels and the shower curtain and the–” 

He fell silent, his mouth still ajar in wordless awe as the realisation hit. You tried your hardest to act cool under his disbelieving stare.

“I– I’m not moving in with you,” he whispered, his eyes softening as he reached for your arm as if to comfort you. “We talked about this. I still need some time.”

“I’m not asking you to move in yet,” you laughed sheepishly, avoiding his gaze. “I just thought it would be nice if you could visit without worrying about bringing your things. You’re my boyfriend. I just want you to be comfortable when you come over to stay the night or when you don’t feel like going back to your and Vernon’s place after a long day and–”

Your words faded to the background as he continued staring at you. He was so used to being the one full of hesitation, overthinking his actions, trying to act nonchalant when he finally committed. Seeing you do the same? His heart grew two sizes larger and suddenly he couldn’t contain himself. 

Without thinking about it, he pulled you into a hug, effectively silencing your doubts and rambled justifications just like you had done for him so many times before. 

“You should’ve just said so, silly,” he laughed and held you even tighter.

[C.VN.: u know, i heard study dates are popular with the girls]

[you’re just trying to get me out of the dorm, aren't you?]

[C.VN.: u cant prove anything]

Sitting across from him in the living room, you watched in silence as Jihoon tapped away at his keyboard. His fingers seemed to fly across the keys at the speed of light, typing out a word and then deleting it. He did so a thousand times before huffing out a sigh and leaning his head back to glare at the ceiling.

“Have you tried taking a break?” you asked him softly, wanting not to scare or irritate him.

His head lolled back to a normal position and he offered an unamused raise of his brows. “Have you seen me take any breaks?”

You grimaced. “Then maybe it’s time to take a break now.”

“Sorry, darling,” he sighed and shook his head, “I need this essay finished by midnight. I’ve been putting this off for too long as it is.”

 You glanced at the clock. “Midnight’s still 10 hours away though. You have time to take a break.”

He rolled his eyes and glared at his laptop screen. A blank page with only the title ‘Western Philosophy 101 Final Essay’ mocked him. “A break from what? I haven’t even done anything.”

“You’ve been thinking hard.”

“Darling, I don’t think you understand how essay-writing works. There’s no use in thinking if no writing comes out of it.”

You reached over to take his hands off the keyboard. His fingers instinctively wrapped around yours, squeezing them just enough to comfort the both of you. “Writing will come out of it if you just relax and just take a break, I promise.”

Jihoon wanted to argue, he really did. But then he looked up from the screen and into your eyes, tempting him to just agree. And while he wasn’t one to give up easily, he was definitely someone who wanted fulfil every wish his loved-ones ever made.

And so, he gave up this time. Defeated, he slumped his shoulders and sighed. “Alright, what do you have in mind?”

“How long do you have?” you asked, feeling mischievous all of a sudden. 

He glanced at his watch before shrugging. “An hour, maybe.”

That was all you needed to pull him towards yourself by the hands. He stumbled a little, just about falling into your lap with a whine of protest before settling exactly where he landed, too tired to care further. His eyes fell closed the moment he felt your warmth against himself.

Without even thinking about it, you reached down to play with his hair. The silky strands ran through your fingers with ease and Jihoon could only hum in appreciation at the gesture. While this wasn’t the cuddle position you had had in mind, you couldn’t say no to the rare chance to dote on your otherwise independent boyfriend.

“This is nice,” he sighed softly and nuzzled his face against your belly, happy to hide from his horrible philosophy final. He lazily opened one eye to look at you, admiring you with the same love as you did him. “We should do this more often.”

“I would love to,” you told him with a sweet laugh and he was glad that he was lying down because his knees felt a little weak all of a sudden. “See, I told you you needed a break.”

He hummed in agreement, closing his eye again. “I feel like I might fall asleep though. And then who will finish my essay? You?”

“How about I just wake you up in, like, 40 minutes instead?” you offered.

With a cheerful giggle, he hid his face further into the fabric of your shirt. His voice sounded muffled as he spoke, “You don’t like philosophy either?”

“Cried my way all the way through the midterms and swore to never take anything philosophy-related again.”

“That’s good. I should do that,” he slurred his words and before long, all you heard were his soft snores. 

Jihoon liked to think he wasn’t particularly clingy. He didn’t need constant assurance from his friends that he was still loved and wanted – he knew they liked and wanted him around. He knew that you liked and wanted him around.

But when your near-hourly updates about the randomest things you had seen and done were replaced by radio silence, Jihoon grew more and more anxious. Though he knew it was silly to think so, he couldn’t help but worry he had annoyed you into leaving him.

Throughout the day, he kept glancing at his phone. Even just a single message – heck, even an emoji – would make his day infinitely better. When he wasn’t staring at his phone, begging for any notification with your name on it, he was looking at the people around him in the hopes of seeing your familiar face among them.

The day went by without as much as a sign from you.

He felt silly. He felt dumb. He felt like he was going to cry very real tears if you didn’t respond to his text before midnight. 

He let out a loud sigh of relief when your nickname finally popped up on his screen. The tears gathered in his eyes dissipated slowly as he shakily unlocked the phone and tapped on your newest message.

[darling ♡: oh my god. i’m sorry for not answergi !! so sorry!!!]

Jihoon blinked away the remnants of his anxious tears and smiled at the sight of your words. You hadn’t left him just yet. He still had a girlfriend who cared for him.

[it’s okay. did something happen?]

[darling ♡: yeah hahah funny story actually…]

[darling ♡: i think i caught something and i’ve been trying to sleep it off haha]

And just like that, his anxiety was back. Jihoon straightened in his seat, one hand still typing while the other blindly searched for his jacket. 

[youre sick?,??m???]

[darling ♡: a little bit…]

[i’m coming over-]

Before you could send a message of protest, he shrugged his jacket on and headed out the door. Even though he realistically knew that he wouldn’t be much help and would just end up sick himself, he couldn’t just let you suffer all alone.

As he practically galloped down the stairs from his 3rd floor dorm, he texted the group chat for help and assurance.

[L.SM.: she’s sick?! make her dinner! what’s her favourite soup??]

Jihoon paused mid-step. What was your favourite soup?

He arrived at your apartment just ten minutes later, a bag in hand. You greeted him at the door, bags under your eyes, skin dull and lips dry. Jihoon couldn’t help but pout at the sight. 

“What happened to you?” he asked, reaching up to brush his thumb across the cracked skin of your lips. “Have you been drinking water at all?”

“The fridge is too far from the bed,” you told him with a defeated sigh before practically melting into his embrace. “I told you not to come.”

He scoffed out a laugh and began rolling up the sleeves of his white hoodie. “Well, I’m here anyway. And I’m making you food. How does tomato soup sound?”

“Like you don’t know how to make chicken soup,” you answered with a suspicious squint of your eyes. 

He laughed at that, ears turning red at the way you had caught onto his scheme. “Alright, I think you should go back to resting.”

“You should go to sleep too,” you argued. “It’s past midnight already and you have classes tomorrow.”

“I can skip a day.” He said it with such ease and carelessness that you couldn’t help but wonder who this man was because your boyfriend hadn’t skipped any classes in the entire time you had been together. 

Still, you were too tired to care. Soup sounded better than sleeping on an empty stomach for another 12 hours. 

“Can I at least help you cook?” you practically begged, hanging onto his arm as he began preparing in the kitchen. 

A little taken aback by your affection, he laughed nervously. “Aren’t you tired?”

“I think I’m starting to feel better actually,” you half-joked, watching with starry eyes as he expertly washed and then chopped the tomatoes. “Seeing you has recharged me with energy.”

“Yeah?” He hummed in thought before offering you a mischievous smile. “Then do you have enough energy to go and rest a little?”

Your face dropped. “Why can’t you just accept my love?”

“Because I’m pretty sure you’re feverish and standing up for long won’t do you any good, darling,” he whispered before pressing a swift kiss to your cheek and returning to his task. “So, go rest on the sofa. I can go get your laptop so you can watch something, if you want.”

“But what if I want to cuddle?”

“Cuddle a pillow.”

“You’re cruel.”

He rolled his eyes at your dramatic antics. Clearly the fever was affecting you worse than he had feared. “When I literally ran across the district to come here and make you soup at midnight?”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “Fine, you can stay,” he paused and gave a warning glare, even if it looked far less threatening with the smile playing on his lips, “for now.”

You let out a soft cheer and cuddled back into his side, resting your cheek on his shoulder as he made you soup. You marvelled at the graceful movements of his hands. You couldn’t help but wonder how many of his friends he had made food for. For now you were just glad to be one of them.

“I hope I recover fast,” you whispered. “Or maybe I should just stay sick forever.”

“Why?”

“I have a stupid presentation next week. I haven’t even started reading to prepare for it.” You buried your face into the fabric of his hoodie. He took a moment to press his cheek against your head in an act of assurance. You sighed and mumbled a final, “Stupid finals.”

He laughed at that. “I’ll get you some medicine tomorrow so you can recover fast.”

With a groan, you straightened up a little again to side-eye him. “Can’t you just leave me here to suffer? Or help me fake my death? What kind of a boyfriend are you?”

“The kind that wants his girlfriend to be healthy for our end-of-the-semester date night,” he answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

His confidence really made you wonder if you had forgotten about this clearly existing tradition between the two of you. But no, you were pretty sure he had just made this up. Or perhaps you were too loopy from paracetamol to remember. 

Either way, you let yourself get carried away into a fantasy of sharing a date night with only your boyfriend and no university stress. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

The end of the semester came faster than Jihoon or any of his friends would have liked. It snuck up on them between the despair and sleepless nights of the exam session. And he could not have been happier about it.

Once he had submitted the final essay of the semester – the very last graded project he’d have to submit before a well-deserved break –, he slammed his laptop shut and looked at you, still hunched over your laptop on the bed, re-reading the last paragraphs of your own essay.

“Hold on,” you told him upon feeling his eyes on yourself, “I’m almost done.”

“No rush,” he replied with a sweet smile before letting out a soft giggle of relief and falling back onto your mattress, his arms spread out as if to soak in the freedom.

As if the sight of your boyfriend basking in the glow of no more exams had motivated you to finish sooner than you planned, you hurriedly rushed to upload your final assignment. A green check mark appeared on the screen to indicate that you could finally join your boyfriend. 

With a loud cheer, you closed your own laptop and crawled over to where your boyfriend was lying. Immediately you burrowed into his side and sighed happily. “This semester sucked.”

“You can say that again,” he agreed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders like he had done so many times before. “But at least it’s over now.”

You hated to be the wet blanket but… “Unless one of us fails.”

He groaned and used the same arm to roll you away from him. “I hate you. Go away.”

You laughed at the way he scrunched up his face in distaste as if he had swallowed bitter medicine. “I’m just saying. We’re not safe yet.”

“We’re safe enough,” he declared and waved your negative thoughts away. “God, I hate you, now you’re making me anxious.”

“You don’t actually hate me,” you sang and rolled back over to him, settling right on top of him, your nose against his own. “In fact, you like me.”

He grimaced. “Unfortunately.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you gasped and sat up, resting your hand on his chest as you leaned upright to glared at him. “Unfortunately?!”

He laughed at your theatrics, giggling with his whole body, shaking so hard in the process that you lost your balance and fell back right on top of him. His arm came to rest around your shoulders again. Once he was out of giggles, he continued smiling and caressed your cheek. “You’re so freaking cute. It’s unfair.”

“Take back that ‘unfortunately’ and I might get even cuter,” you told him, a suspicious glare set on him. 

His smile never faded as he leaned up just a little, resting his entire body weight on one arm just to press his lips to yours. “I take the word back.”

“Good,” you decided and joined in his laughter before kissing him again, “because I kind of love you, actually.”

He froze. His eyes widened just a fraction, his lips parted in a silent gasp of surprise.

He stayed like that for long enough to make you worry you had made your move too fast. He liked to take it slow – you knew that. He had been taking it slow all this time. And now you’ve confessed and he probably thought you were ridiculous and dumb and–

“Darling…” His lips curled into a smile, his eyes turning into joyful crescents, and then he leaned in again. 

His hands came to rest on your cheeks, squishing them just a little as he pulled you to his lips. He kissed you again and again and again. 

He kissed you until you were dumb. He didn’t stop kissing you until you were sure you couldn’t form a single word that wasn’t his name. 

Then, eventually, with both of your lips swollen and eyes dazed, he leaned back and nuzzled his nose against your own. “I love you so, darling, I really do.”

It took you a moment to understand what he was saying. He had kissed you so dumb that you could’ve sworn he was speaking in another language. But finally, your brain caught up with the situation and a smile appeared on your face, bright and proud and full of adoration for your boyfriend. 

“You should kiss me like that more often,” you told him, teasing, trying to see what he’d do. 

He replied with a playful roll of his eyes and another kiss, a single one but much longer than the last twenty. 

“I love you,” you whispered again against his lips.

His smile only seemed to brighten even more at that. “I love you too.”

But as he was about to go in for another kiss, a loud vibration sounded from somewhere in the sheets. The two of you glanced around as the vibrations continued, breaking you from the romantic daze.

“Is someone calling you?” he wondered. 

“My phone’s been on silent since the dawn of time, babe,” you told him easily and helped him look for his phone. “It must be yours.”

Just when you said those words, the vibrations abruptly stopped. And then another vibration came, short and gentle this time. 

You found his phone under the pillows, Soonyoung’s contact name appearing alongside the missed call symbol and a minimised text message on the screen.

“It’s your tiger friend,” you told Jihoon and turned to hand the phone to him when the phone vibrated again with a new message coming in. 

It wasn’t your fault that the whole screen flashed to life with the message – what were you supposed to do? Not read it? 

[K.SY.: oh, nonie said u’re with y/n?]

And then another message arrived before he could take the phone from your hands. 

[K.SY.: have u told her u love her yet ??!?!!]

[K.SY.: the chat is rootin for u!!!! u’ve been good at following our advice this far. u’ve got this!!]

A mischievous smile appeared on your face as you read the message. Jihoon didn’t realise what made you react this way until he took his phone and read the message minimised on his lockscreen. He groaned as the realisation hit.

“Don’t start–”

“You told your friends that you loved me,” you beat him to it, reaching over to squish his cheeks and kiss his nose. “And you asked them for advice? You’re so goddamn cute.”

His ears got progressively more red with every word. He quickly swiped the messages off his screen and threw his phone as far away as he could without potentially breaking it. “It wasn’t like that–”

“I’m just teasing, baby,” you laughed and pulled him into a comforting hug. Poor man was mortified. “I do have to ask though: what kind of advice did you get from them?”

“Well,” he hesitated as you looked at him expectantly, “I wanted to be a good boyfriend, so… I asked them how to be a better boyfriend…”

You pressed your lips to his. “You’re a good boyfriend, Jihoon, I promise. You’re the best, actually.” 

“I had to ask my friends for help just to get the courage to initiate a kiss,” he confessed, squeezing his eyes shut as the urge to cringe and hide away under the bed overcame him. “I’m a mediocre boyfriend, at most.”

“I strongly disagree,” you told him and pulled him in for another kiss, “but we’ll work on your confidence, my love.”

♡ THE END! ♡

[karlyboyyy]

In all seriousness, I really do think it’s entirely plausible that Kazuki and Rei can (and/or will) fall in love with each other, but I don’t necessarily see them as suddenly looking at each other with attraction and having that “why am I having these thoughts about another man?!” panic moment that seems to be a common trope in anime whenever gay romance is involved. Their relationship isn’t that simple. No, I think it will happen over time in a more subtle way. And I feel like we’ve already begun to see this unfold.

In episode 7, we learn that Kazuki struggles with his grief of losing his wife and unborn child, all while feeling overwhelmed and under-appreciated for all he does for Rei and Miri. He then tries to have a night of fun by gambling and surrounding himself with women, all things he would normally enjoy. But by the end of the night, he’s still miserable. Then he has the conversation with his sister-in-law, and we find out that he feels guilty about moving on and finding happiness for fear of forgetting his past love. But she reassures him that it’s okay to continue living his life. It’s what her sister, his wife, would want. And a small weight is lifted from his shoulders. And when he finally goes back home, and finds a sick Miri sleeping peacefully with a clearly-worried Rei sleeping at her bedside holding her hand, we see Kazuki gazing fondly at the two of them. The look on his face says “These two are my happiness.”

And I think that realization will continue over time. Now that Kazuki no longer feels as guilty about moving on, I think he’ll start to really see Rei as family. As someone he can build a life with. Someone he enjoys spending time with. Someone he truly loves and cares for. And a day will come when maybe he’s out running errands while Rei is at home with Miri, and a woman starts talking to him. Kazuki doesn’t think anything of it at first, but then he realizes she’s hitting on him… and surprisingly, he doesn’t feel any particular way about it. In fact, his mind instead wanders to “I wonder what Rei and Miri are doing. I better hurry back home.”

And Rei… he’ll start to open up more around Kazuki, and show his vulnerabilities. He’s already started doing this with Miri, but I think we’ll begin to see him telling Kazuki more about his past. Maybe not even in a dramatic reveal type of way, but more so in off-hand comments or random stories that he suddenly remembers. And without realizing that things have changed so much, he’ll find that he’s truly enjoying his life with Kazuki and Miri, that he can actually laugh about things and feel relaxed. And one night, as he’s trying to fall asleep in his bathtub, maybe he’ll struggle to get comfortable. So he instead finds himself going to Miri’s room and curling up on the floor next to her bed, and quickly falling asleep. Kazuki walks in to find him, laughs to himself, and without even thinking about it, picks Rei up and carries him to bed. Not Rei’s bed, though. No, Kazuki subconsciously realizes that Rei needed the comfort of having someone next to him while he slept, so without a second thought, he brought Rei to his own bed. And when he went to lie down next to Rei, he was careful not to get too close. He didn’t want to disturb him after all, and it’s not like he had any other intentions but to simply sleep near each other. But the next morning, Rei wakes up to find Kazuki’s arm around him. And it doesn’t even occur to him to move Kazuki’s arm. Instead, he just looks at Kazuki’s sleeping face, feels the warmth between them, and thinks “this… is nice actually.”

And eventually the both of them will realize that they would do anything to protect one another, do anything to make the other happy. And maybe one day they’ll start to see each other in a different light. Maybe Kazuki will begin to notice the way Rei’s eyes light up when he gets a new video game, or maybe he’ll see that one piece of Rei’s hair that refuses to stay in the ponytail and think “hah, that’s adorable.” And maybe Rei will start to compliment Kazuki on his cooking more because he knows it makes him happy, or maybe he’ll take Miri shopping to find the perfect birthday gift for Kazuki but ends up getting several things because this thing reminded him of Kazuki’s smile, and this thing is Kazuki’s favorite scent, and this thing reminded him of that inside joke they had, and this thing…

So instead of looking at each other one day and thinking “why am I having these thoughts and feelings about a man?!”, I think they’ll look at each other and think “this feels right. This makes sense. Of course I have these thoughts and feelings about him.” Because at that point, the love is already there.

[ghosty-writes-23]

Take Me Home To My Heart. - Ada Wong.

!TAGS!: Lesbian relationship, Fluff, Happy Ending, NSFW Content, Sub!Ada, Dom!Fem!Reader, Rough, !CONSENT IS KEY!, Body worship, Fingering, Eating out, Choking, Doggy style, Strap on, Hair pulling, Aftercare.

Pairing: Sub!Girlfriend!Ada + Dom!Fem!Reader.

Rating: Mature.

Summary: “Just Be A Good Girl, I Know You Can Take It.” Just when you thought your loving girlfriend Ada wasn't going to make it home for Valentines day, she surprises and you by coming home a few hours before midnight and you both spend the last remaining hours lost in each other in the heat of passion and even a little romance.

Word Count: 3.3k

Ghosty's Notes: Hello, I decided I wanted to publish something for Valentines Day but of course I get sick at the same time, so I thought it would be a smart idea to write 2 one-shots while I had the energy to do nothing, so I am sorry if these feel rushed or a poorly edited, I wrote these in 1 day and slept for the rest, once I am feeling better I will be working on a P.t 2 of his Precious Dollface for next month crossing my fingers and I hope you enjoy these two holiday themed one-shots about our favourite Agent and Super spy.

Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty❤️

Leon's Version.

----------

18+ Content // Minors DO NOT Interact // 18+ Content.

Sitting in your apartment living resting on the couch, you were alone with a glass half full of red wine, a spicy enemies to lovers novel in your lap but you had lost interest in it as you glanced at the small clock on the couch side table. Today was valentine's day and your love was away on a mission fighting god knows what but that didn't stop the sad sigh that left your lips as you felt a slight clench around your heart. 

When you saw all your friends posting online about there special valentines dates with their significant other, It made you want her to selfishly come home and spend valentine's day with you but that wasn’t possible, you weren't even sure if she was in the country at the moment, You understood her job and that there were times you wouldn’t see her for months on end, but there still doesn’t make the pain in your chest go away. 

Taking a sip out of your wine glass you place it back on the table as you placed your bookmark in your book before closing it then placing it on the table, you glanced up at the TV seeing a random show playing you had put it on so it wasn’t completely silent.

Grabbing the remote you decided to flick off the TV and head up to yours and Ada’s shared bedroom to try and get some sleep, lately you hadn’t been sleeping well getting off the couch you started walking upstairs when you heard what sounded like the front door unlocking as soon as the front door opened your feeling as if it was beating out of your chest. 

Ada walked through the door, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor, she was holding what looked like a small bag and a bottle of something, she looked exhausted but she gave you a small smile you could see the tension melt from her body as her eyes met yours, closing the front door behind her and placed her things on the small table beside the door.

“Your home.” you say softly as you were slightly shocked but over the moon that she was home alive and safe, soon you found yourself running over to her and hugging her tightly, you heard a soft noise leave her lips at the impact your body hit hers but she wrapped her arms around you just as quickly.

"I’m home.” she softly repeated what you said as she gave the top of your head a kiss, you pull away slightly and go on your tippy toes and softly kiss her lips were soft and warm against yours, you could taste her sweet lip balm and the scent of her perfume filling your senses making you feel truly relaxed to finally have your love home.

“I have a gift for you?” Ada says making you look at her with a raised eyebrow, moving away slightly she handed you a small bag, inside was a small box, opening the small box was 2 lockets with your favourite picture of you both and both your initials engraved on the back.

“When did you have time to do this?” you asked as you admired the piece of jewelry. “I got it done just before my last mission, I was going to give it to you then but I got called away early.” Ada says with a sad look on her face but you smiled up at her as you took one of the lockets out from the box. 

“This is so thoughtful.” you say looking up at your girlfriend who had a slight blush on her cheeks, they looked expensive and good quality. “So you can have a piece of me while I'm away on missions.” Ada says as she places a kiss on the top of your head then she grabs the locket from your hand and moves your hair before she clips it around your neck, the locket falling to the middle of your breasts. 

“I love you.” you heard her mumble as she placed a soft kiss on your shoulder, then another just under your ear. “I love you too princess, now why don’t we go upstairs and celebrate what little time we have left of valentines day?” you suggested as you felt her nibbling on your neck, causing you to giggle softly at the feeling, once she nodded her head and laced her fingers with yours you grabbed the bottle she had brought and led her upstairs to your guys shared bedroom. 

As you both walked up the stairs you both were locked in a heated and passionate kiss, your arms around her neck and legs around her waist she held you up by your thighs as she walked up the stairs and into your shared bedroom, once inside your bedroom she laid you on the big comfortable bed breaking the kiss you both were breathing heavily and there was a blush on both of your cheeks.

“Are you the dom tonight?” you asked in a teasing tone there was a sly grin on your face as well, it was a rare sight to see Ada wanting to take control in the bedroom. Usually she was your pillow princess, but it seemed a switch had flipped in her tonight. 

Ada nodded her head as her gloved hand went under your shirt, the cold leather causing a shiver to run through your body before she tugged your shirt up to where it was just covering your eyes like a blindfold, leaving you in just your panties since you didn’t feel like wearing a bra tonight, the air was slightly chilly but your body felt hot as all your other senses were heightened due to your sight being taken away. You felt Ada’s lips on your neck causing a soft noise to leave your lips as she started to trail kisses and soft nibbles down your neck to your chest. 

Her kisses were soft and gentle, almost teasing with how feather light they were as they travelled down your stomach to the top of your panties, your breathing had picked up slightly you wanted to touch her but you couldn’t as your t-shirt kept your arms in place above your head, but if you had to guess Ada had a smirk on her face. Her gloved hands made their way up your sides before she softly pinched your nipples causing a soft moan to leave your lips at the slight painful pleasure.

“You're teasing me.” you say as you found your hands softly gripping the pillow behind you so desperately wanted to see her you could feel your pussy clenching around nothing, soon there was the sound of material tearing and before you could ask Ada what was that, you felt her warm tongue on your heat collecting your slick and causing a soft whine to leave your lips as you bucked your hips. 

“Shit.” you cursed softly when you felt her roughly gripped your thighs, her gloved fingers digging in possibly leaving bruises but you didn’t care, she feasted on you as if you were her last meal her soft groans as she pulled you closer by your thighs, her tongue circling your clit before she softy sucked, you so desperately wanted to see her face you wanted to see the blush on her cheeks, the glossy and hazy in her eyes as her tongue was buried inside of you wanted to see her bruised lips. 

“Wanna see you.” you were able to breathe out in between your moans, you could feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head, soon your t-shirt was fully removed from you and you took in Ada’s appearance. Her inky black hair slightly messy with some stuck to her forehead, her lips were bruised slightly but wet with your slick, her eyes holding the look of lust but warmth causing your heart to skip a beat and your pussy to clench around nothing.

“Happy?” she asked as she bites one end of her gloved fingertips and pulls the glove off with her teeth before you felt two of her fingers run up and down your slit collecting your slick, You nodded your head finally being able to see your girlfriend.

She grinned at you before you felt her two fingers sink onto your gummy walls causing you to bite down on your bottom lip, she always knew where your sweet spots were as she curled her fingers causing your toes to curl slightly. “So wet princess.” Ada says with a teasing tone but all you could do was nod your head, it felt different being the bottom or the sub this time but it wasn’t an unwelcome feeling.

“Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” Ada asked as she placed a soft kiss on your cheek as if she was trying to be sweet while her fingers were skillfully knuckles deep in your pussy. 

“Yes, but it wasn’t the same, I couldn't finish.” you say bucking your hips slightly when her thumb started to rub your clit, you were close and she knew it you heard her softly chuckle as she kissed your neck no doubt leaving little love bites. “Couldn’t you come without me, your precious little princess.” she teases and you would have rolled your eyes at her comment if she didn't make you feel so good, she was being a brat and she knew it.

“Watch it sweetheart.” you warned her but you felt your eyes roll back when he curled her finger hitting your sweet spot more. “What are you going to do about it?” she grinned before she felt her gently nibbled on your ear, this was the final straw and you felt yourself cumming on her fingers. 

Once you finally got your breathing under control you knew what you needed to do, reaching over you carefully grabbed Ada by the back of the neck and kissed her deeply, you could taste yourself on her lips but that was the least of your worries, right now you needed to tam your little brat, softly biting her bottom lip you heard her softly moan she make act all bratty and naughty but deep down you knew she just wanted to be your good girl, breaking the kiss you trailed your lips up to her ear before softly biting the shell of it. 

“Go grab the box from the cupboard.” you whisper into her ear, as she got off the bed you decided to clean yourself and the bed up, soon Ada came back with the box and you couldn’t help but smirk because you knew what was in that box.

“Strip.” you asked, taking the box from her and placing it on the bed, there was a slight blush on her cheeks but she nodded her head and started to strip, you admired her body with all its curves and scars. To you she was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen and sometimes you felt as if you didn’t deserve her. When her red dress hit the floor you walked over to her and gently cupped her face before kissing her softly, you felt her melt against you as soft noise left her lips. 

When you pulled away a soft whine left her lips making you chuckle softly before you turned her around so she was facing the bed. “Since my princess is being a brat, i guess i have to make her my good girl now.” you say before you gently pushed her onto the bed she made a soft noise when she wet the bed before she turned her head and looked at you, passion, lust and love swimming in her dark eyes, she wanted this and you knew it. Opening the box you grabbed the strap on and the small bottle of lube, you didn’t want to hurt your girlfriend. 

You stepped into the harness and strapped it around your waist and thighs, it was Ada’s favourite it was the perfect size and curve it always left her a mess, walking over to her you grabbed her by the hip and pulled her up so now she was on her hands and knees, glancing down you could see how wet she was it was partially running down her thighs kneeling down you placed a soft kiss on her back and trailed kisses down her body even giving her ass a little bite before you ran your tongue up her folds from the back. 

Her taste makes your eyes roll back slightly feasting on your girlfriend was your favourite thing to do, you could stay for hours in between her legs if she would let you, but she gets too embarrassed especially when she squirts but that's a story for a different day, after having a little taste you felt Ada wiggle her hips showing she needed something more, grabbing the bottle of lube you reluctantly pulled away licking your lips and applied a small blob of the clear liquid, she was wet almost soaking but you wanted to be extra careful not to hurt her even if she thinks she will be okay.

Standing up you moved behind her and gently tapped the plastic strap against her pussy, Ada looked over her shoulder at you, her eyes where dazed her lips bitting slightly raw, she looked fucked out already and you hadn’t even touched her, placing a soft kiss on her shoulder you slowly slid in her a soft moan leaving her lips as she gripped the pillow underneath her, it had been a while since the last time you to where this intimate. 

“Are you ok?” you asked wanting to make sure she was ok, you placed gentle kisses around her neck and shoulder as you waited for her to adjust to the size, you could hear her take a few breaths before she nodded her head and gave you a small kind smile. “I’m ok you can move now.” she says giving you the greenlight, smiling you softly began to move your hips in small movements as you softly bit into the soft flesh of her neck causing whine like moans to leave her lips.

Once you knew she was comfortable, you thought this would be a good time to get some payback for her being a brat, you moved and gripped her hips and started to move your own hips quicker causing your thrusts to do deeper, this caused her moans to become louder as she gripped the pillows beneath her.

“Are you my brat or my good girl?” you asked as you thrust into her quickly your hands finding their way to her soft ink black hair and tugging on it slightly, when you didn’t get an answer you stopped your movements causing Ada to whine softly and begin moving her own hips, but you spanked her ass causing a hiss through her teeth. 

“I expect an answer princess, are you my brat or my good girl?” you asked in her ear before you softly bit her earlobe, you heard her suck in a breath when you trailed your hand around her neck and gave a soft squeeze. “I’m your good girl.” she says as you swear you could see hearts in her eyes showing you how fucked out she was, smiling softly you gave another squeeze ever so gently before you started moving your hips again, but this time you pulled her against your body, you could see a little bulge where the strap was in her stomach. 

“Are you going to cum for me?” you asked as you thrusted into her quickly and used your hand that wasn’t around her neck to rub her clit, you could see her eyes were rolling back and her moans were getting more high pitched. “Yes.” she choked out in between moans, her body was trembling. You could tell this was going to be a big one, moving so now she is laying flat on the bed, you used the last of your energy to get her to finish. 

“What do good girls ask when they want to cum?” you asked as you gripped the pillow just by her head, you could feel the burning in your thighs and your back, but you pushed those aside as you wanted to make your girlfriend feel good.

“Please can I cum?” she asks, looking as you desperately, sweat covered both your bodies and your hair stuck to your forehead, using the hand that was around her neck you used it to angle her head so you could kiss her. “Cum.” was all you said before kissing her, you swallowed her moans as you felt her body tremble as she came undone in your hands. 

Once her trembling started to calm down you gently pulled away and rested your forehead on hers a grin on both of your lips. “Happy Valentine's Day princess.” you say as you move some hair out of her face, she nuzzled into her hand breathing heavily. “Happy Valentine's Day.” Ada says with a gentle smile as she leaned forward and kissed you again.

Half An Hour Later

You and Ada laid together in your bathtub as you finally cleaned up after a couple more rounds, both of you were sore and tried but so glad to finally have each other back, the tub was decorated with candles and rose petals every on brand for the day, placing a gentle kiss on Ada’s shoulder you heard her hum softly as she sipped on a glass of the champagne she had brought for you both.

“I almost forgot your valentine's day gift.” you say when you remembered about the small box in your bedside table draw, moving out the tub you heard Ada whine as you tied your bath robe around yourself and softly kissed her head as she stayed in the tub.

Going back into your shared bedroom you grabbed the small box and took a deep breath, this could either go really good or really bad you were hoping for the first option, walking back into the bathroom you noticed Ada was resting against the side of the table, a dopey smile on her face that you rarely get to see only when she is really relaxed and comfortable, her ears perked up when she heard you enter the room with a small box in your hand. 

“I have something I want to ask you?” you say trying to hide the nerves in your voice, you didn’t know why you felt nerves it felt right you and her together forever but that still didn’t help the nerves, you saw Ada nod her head and slowly you kneeled down on one knee and opened the small box which contained a small diamond ring you knew she had been eyeing when you went out shopping together, you even got it custom sized and engraved.

“Will you marry me?” you asked her feeling as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, you could see Ada thinking about it. “Are you sure you want to be with somebody like me?” you heard her ask her voice was quiet and small not what you were expecting, reaching up you gently placed a hand on her cheek.

“I couldn’t picture my life with anybody else, I want you Ada and only you.” you say to her and you could swear you saw tears in her arms before she hugged you tightly, the position was a little awkward but you didn’t care.

“So is that a yes.” you asked against her neck, she nodded her head as you pulled away slightly and took the ring out of the box, it had “Forever & Always’ engraved in the band of the ring. “Perfect fit.” she says, admiring the ring. “Just like us.” you say causing her to roll her eyes but her smile warms your heart, you made the right decision you wanted to be with Ada forever and always.

----------

©Ghosty-writes-23, 2024. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.

[darkphoenix07]

Hi love if requests are still opened may I have an established relationship hongjoong oneshot where reader isolates herself frequently because of mental health and spends a lot of unwanted time in bed because she can’t muster up the courage to get up where hj helps her start her day and stuff?

Hongjong helps you as you isolate yourself often

Masterlist

Series Poll

Mental Health Request

Paring : Hongjong x Reader

Genre : Comfort, Fluff, Romance, Dance

Song 🎶: Everything I wanted by Billie Eilish and Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift

7.00 a.m.

You hear Hongjong entering the house as he parks his car in the garage. You want to get up, run towards him and hug him. You want to break in his arms feeling free as tears leave your eyes. You wish you could get up but it's too hard.

You have been lying on the bed for the whole day like a corpse. He called you a million times for having breakfast but you said you weren't hungry. He left kissing you goodbye, saying he loves you. But you didn't even say love you back. You laid there not moving a single muscle, not taking shower or having food.

Right now you can't feel your body. You don't feel like you are in this universe anymore. The pain, the anxiety, the panic attack have taken over your body suppressing everything.

"Baby, are you home?" His sweet voice echoes in the living room.

You haven't touched him for how long you don't remember. You don't know when was the last time, you kissed him, hugged him properly. Sex is far.

"Baby!" The way he calls you baby. It should pick your body up. You feel guilty for being such a prick. But you can't help. You imagine how he will leave you alone, you'll be able to lay here for the rest of your life until you actually become a corpse.

There looking for you, he enters in your room. Seeing the darkness of your room, the curtains all down, your blanket covering half of your body and you same gaze at the ceiling, he understands you haven't moved from the bed.

"Hey, are you feeling alright?" He asks entering as he touches you forehead.

"Hm," you mumble not wanting to get attacked with more questions.

But he notices how messed up your hair is though you aren't warm or cold. You are still wearing the dress from three days ago which means you haven't showered for three days.

You think of the consequences that will occur if he switches on the lights, pulls the blanket off you and starts screaming at you. What will you do?

You wait for it but the lights aren't being turned on, no screaming is around you like it used to happen in your household. Its more quite than usual that you can hear his heartbeat beside yours.

"Can I get inside?"

You would have said no. You would have pushed him away. But the way he asked you, the way he plead like he is asking foe forgiveness that you had to move slightly making space for him.

He gets inside the blanket though you know you stick as bad as a garbage can. He pulls you on his hand, "I want to have dinner outside with you or we can have a terrible cheat day. Only street foods and chocolate or ice cream. What do you say?"

You don't answer him so he looks at you with all of the love he has for you, "Or we can stay here in the bed while I sing for you. Then we can take a shower together while dancing and order dinner. I can make you some too but I am not as good as Wooyoung when it comes to cooking."

You look at him with sleepy eyes. His touch makes you realize how long you haven't slept. Maybe three days or more. It happened without any reason. You don't know why you are feeling like this life doesn't matter or why you don't want to move. You feel heartbroken, guilty for not having a single reason to tell him why you are feeling this much heavy.

"Baby. You'll become sick. I would let you stay here but you look so pale. I am worried," he says pulling you close to his chest, "You know how much I love you, right?"

You wanted to walk up a while ago. But it was just night. The ending of another day you could have spent productively that you wasted. You feel so disgusted by your own self but the man in front of you gazing at you like you are some diamond.

"I don't know what to do," that's when you speak up because you don't want to disappoint him. He has so much patience and hope for you. You understand now that if you speak up maybe he will understand but it's just too hard.

"Will you let me do something for you?" He asks kissing your forehead gently.

You don't say anything as a positive answer and he gets up, "Stay in your little paradise for some moment. I am coming back."

He says and rushes outside. After some while, you hear his car's sound. You don't understand and you forget that you should care after sometimes. You curl around hugging your blanket drowning in your dark side again.

You don't know how long it passes away before Hongjong comes, "I am going to pick you up. Okay?"

He warns you so you can say no if you want to. But you don't say anything or do anything as he cradles you up in his arms and walks outside the room. You notice the lights are all off, there is just the chandelier lighting in the living room.

As he enters in the bathroom of the room you two share, you see there are scented candles on the sink area. He doesn't stop here, he places you inside the tub filled with purple flower petals, you don't understand what flower are these. But the sudden warm water washes thrill over your whole body. You start feeling a little better from the warm water.

He helps you take off the clothes and runs outside again. You start hearing him playing Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift in the background before he enters in the bathroom again with a fruit salad bowl.

He sits outside the tub feeding you the salad, "I thought you may faint so I had to give you some food and suger."

You smile as you keep having the fruits one by one. Some little effort is all you wanted to give to feel better again but it was too hard.

"Join me," you tell him making his eyes go big.

He places the bowl on the sink and makes you stand up, "I have a better idea," and pushes the shower button. Cold water starts washing over both of you and you start giggling seeing him shiver.

It's so adorable yet fascinating how he is looking and acting right now. He holds your one hand and wraps your waist with another, "Let's dance in the rain."

"It's literally summer," you tell him as he spins you while the water of the tub splashes around dripping on the floor.

"Who cares?" He says pulling you towards him and again moving you with him. The dance, the movements, they are so messy yet perfect for your body to feel alive. It's like every cell of your body is waking up one by one.

"Kiss me," he says cupping your face in his hands and your lips find his in no time.

You wish you would have talked about your feelings to him earlier, you wish you wouldn't waste your time, you wish you would kiss him back and say love you back. But it's alright, you tell yourself. It's alright because I can do it now.

"Hongjong," you say as you wrap yourself in the towel and he looks at you.

"I love you," you tell him and his smile gets bigger than ever.

"I love you," he says and pecks you on the lips.

No, you haven't stopped feeling the heaviness yet but you have stopped blaming yourself making it look like a crime for feeling depressed without any reason. Every feeling is precious after all.

For the people who thinks your feelings aren't valid. They are.