#someone falls asleep in the bath because someone else is massaging her head

[chickensoupleg]

oooh ok if you’re wanting prompts- robin chrissy and heather’s days off finally align, but they all have different things they want to do together. do they bicker? make a plan? compromise?? 👀

So I'm imagining they all have entirely separate jobs because of course they do. Robin's got her job doing whatever, let's say she's managed to snag a job (With Steve of course that's her work best friend never leave home without him) at the local Waffle House so her work hours are weird and sometimes she's going to bed the moment her wives wake up, Chrissy is working as a gymnastic coach, and Heather has somehow gotten herself into being a volunteer firefighter. Chrissy has the most flexible schedule (Get it) out of all of them.

They do love their jobs, but man is it brutal on their date nights.

Eventually they do manage to get a weekend together, and of course they don't want to waste it!

Problem is the how. Heather just wants to have a normal date night so she wants to go out and eat after a nice walk around town. Robin doesn't want to be near a restaurant because she is positive the waitress mentality will embarrass her in front of everyone ('Babe you work at a Waffle House it's not that fancy.') ('Heather baby my sweet sweet flaming ball of my miserable yet enchanting life I will accidentally walk into the kitchen if I'm not careful.') ('... Robbie why would you be in the kitchen?') ('Tickets.') ('Ah.')

Chrissy wants to spend the entire time in the house, cuddled up with each other and being lesbian wives doing lesbian wife things like holding hands and see how close they are to succumbing to building furniture for fun. As sweet and relaxing as that sounds somehow it feels like a waste just being home and doing absolutely nothing. They're not gonna have this much time again for a long while they might as well use it! (They do sleep in bed a little longer together regardless. Chrissy is a lump in the blankets, Robin has sprawled over everything, and Heather is octopused around the closest things which are usually either her girls or a pillow)

Robin wants to commit crimes of the loving but frankly a little concerning kind.

We can't let Robin commit crimes.

No matter how much Chrissy and Heather also want to commit crimes.

So they do bicker for a while over the span of a week before the actual days off in the form of many, many sticky notes stuck to bathroom mirrors, passing conversations, muttered sleepy time musings, messengers in the form of sending whoever they could convince to go between work places, phone calls, and even one (1) point in time where they were just in the same bathroom together.

In the end they ask Steve, date-life extraordinaire, for advice, who just tells them (in a fit of this man was rudely awoken) something about how girls like spas and stargazing. He's totally making something up.

It gives Robin an idea immediately, even if it makes no sense and takes a little convincing. A nice and relaxing spa day followed by shuffling off into the wilderness and laying underneath the stars! Perfect! No sitting around at home but also plenty of relaxation and being all date-y!

(It ends up being the greatest date night ever.)

(Even though Steve is a little worried when Robin came back with a photo of them in a tree while a bear was sniffing around at the bottom.)

(And when Heather came in to regale the tale of how Robin does not believe she could wrestle a bear.)

(... And how Chrissy accidentally kicked a bear in the face and apologised as told by Chrissy herself.)

[enid-rhees]

can you do an Elisia headcannons with a depressed reader? Please and thank youuuu :)

Elisia Brown Dating Depressed!Reader HDCNS (and how she helps you deal with it)

warnings: mentions of sh, difficulty with eating, please read at your own discretion if any of these might trigger you!

a/n: thank you for requesting, anon! i hope you, and everyone else enjoys <3 thank you to the amazing, gorgeous and talented @elisiassideb1tch for being a part of this and helping me with this post, please go follow her, she deserves everything and more ✨💙 the pic is also made by her ✨ (ilysm i cant thank you enough 🫶🏻💙)

oh Elisia my sweet girl who deserves the world and more

she cares for you so much.

Elisia will do anything in her power to make you feel loved

if you struggle with the motivation to get out of bed, Elisia will be there every minute with you.

she’ll sit with you and just talk about anything, like your interests.

when you do finally find the motivation to get out of bed, she’ll never stop telling you how proud she is of you

if you struggle with eating, Elisia takes small steps with you

she’ll give you a small portion of food and just helps you work your way up

Elisia understands almost everything you go through, because she’s been there too. and it hurts her to see someone so special to her go through this as well

she was alone when she was really suffering, so she does everything she can to help you feel loved and cared for.

helping you had started to slowly heal her own self as well

she helps you with your hygiene as well

setting up hot baths for you, or even showering with you

and afterwards, she might even give you a small massage to relax your muscles

if you sh and Elisia finds out about it, she’ll help you gain the courage to throw out your razors.

when you do throw them out, Elisia praises you endlessly. she tells you how proud she is of you and holds you tightly, just mumbling praises to you as she kisses your head

Elisia will kiss every single one of your scars while telling you how brave, and strong you are, she’ll never stop telling you how proud she is of you

Elisia gets you little gifts occasionally !!

perfumes, lotions, candles etc

she just does anything that she knows will bring a smile to your face

Elisia always wants to make sure you’re comfortable in your own clothes and often makes sure you aren’t wearing the same thing for a week straight

she’ll help you clean your clothes and bring you comfier clothes like sweatpants and sweatshirts

^^ she gifts you those fluffy thick socks omg you love those sm you’re always wearing them

you and Elisia sing together. a lot

the way you’re both out of tune with each other will always make you laugh, so she does it as often as possible with you just to hear you laugh and to see you smile

and sometimes she just only sings to you in bed

she’ll hold you close to her chest while you’re nearly falling asleep to her voice

if you have a hard time eating certain things and only want certain things, Elisia will get you everything you want

she understands that you only want certain textures of food and will get you whatever u want

and she’ll always help you eat

Elisia will put on your fav show/movie and will sit and eat with you as well :]

she’ll make small conversations with you and updates you on how all of your friends are doing

you also eat in bed with her a lot and she’ll just cuddle you, and afterwards she’ll take your plate and wash it off for you before coming back to bed and taking you in her arms again

Elisia will ALWAYS have water with her to remind you to drink water

she keeps track of how much you drink and when to give you more

she also lovesss making you tea and her amazing apple pie

your comfort meal fr

after you eat, Elisia will tell you how proud she is of you <3

she’ll kiss your cheeks, nose, lips, eyes, she’ll kiss u ANYWHERE

she’ll hold you close while her hands run down and gently massage your body, she’ll play with your fingers and will just constantly tell you how beautiful you are

Elisia will take you for a walk at least once a day or every few days

you need to get fresh air every once in a while, so she’ll take you on a short walk

and after the walk she’ll plan a small lil picnic right in the grass in front of her house :’)

after a while, when you’re feeling better, Elisia takes you up to the roof of her apartment and the two of lay side by side, staring up the stars

you’ll lay your head on her chest and she’ll kiss your head and start playing with your fingers, and traces little hearts or shapes into your skin

of course Elisia brought snacks, so the two of you just sit with each other, reveling in each others presence

Els also brought her earbuds so you guys listen to music together as well on the roof, she’ll play your favorite artists and sing along with you <3

it’s very peaceful for you

the roof is your place

where you and Elisia go to escape from everything and have nothing but each other bc that’s all you need

Elisia saved you basically, and you could never be more grateful to have her as your girlfriend

🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

[witchthewriter]

𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒇𝒐𝒓 @lovelyartemisa.

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝐼 𝑠𝘩𝑖𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝐶𝘩𝑎𝑜𝑙 𝑊𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙! Stoic, loyal, dutiful. His eyes would be for you and only you. His eyes would never wander. And his love wouldn't waver. He will always be there for you, defend you, protect you and give his life for yours.

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

Chaol smells of Cedarwood, Vanilla, and Amber. He bathes everyday in those oils, sometimes you join him ... sometimes he wakes up too early for you to join him (he's a morning person)

Loves when you fall asleep on him. Especially his chest, or shoulder or lap. Where he can hold you close. You like to listen to his steady heartbeat.

You had been pining over Chaol for a very long time. And he had no idea. Everyone else knew. But not him. He was completely oblivious, because why would someone as beautiful as you want him?

It wasn't until Aelin actually pointed it out that Chaol finally found out. She didn't tell him while you were there, to spare your embarrassment (she's a good friend of yours) and Chaol was stunned.

You like to run up behind him and tackle him to the bed. He likes a lot of physical touch and play. No one would think it, but he does.

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Dance Me To The End Of Love by the Midnite String Quartet

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Madly In Love x Ridiculously Oblivious

It's Always Been You

Similar Personalities

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

You Fell First, But They Fall Harder

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖

That you're hardworking, dedicated and passionate. When you have your mind set on something, you won't let anything stop you from doing it. You're driven and stubborn and reliable.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

𝐼𝑠 𝑁𝑒𝑠𝑟𝑦𝑛! I think you have this innate quietness that means you keep a lot to yourself. You aren't an open book, unless you're around people you like. You opened up to Nesryn easily and quickly - she had this stable, earth-like aura about her. Stable, grounded, and loyal, almost like a female Chaol (but more adventurous and cultured). You two are very, very close.

𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆

A mix between Nesryn, Yrene and Elide. You have a lot of potential inside you, a power, a hidden confidence that only some people see. You also have the sassiness and ability to give a witty quip when needed.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒆𝒕

A Wyvern, even though you're not a witch. A clutch of eggs were found in the Ferrian Gap, and the Ruk riders brought them back to Antica. As a surprise, Nesryn brought one back as a present for you. Chaol was absolutely ... worried about it. There was so much potential danger with this wyvern, but you wanted it so bad.

It hatched and grew quickly. A bit sickly at first, he was very small. But you helped him eat and drink, and even you helped him learn to fly!

𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝐼 𝑠𝘩𝑖𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑀𝑎𝑡𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑎𝑠 𝐻𝑒𝑙𝑣𝑎𝑟! I think you two would work so well! It's like you two would balance each other out. He doesn't like fighting/confrontations either, but will get into it if it's about something he cares about. And if someone does anything to hurt you ... ooooooweeeeee, he would beat the living hell out of them.

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

Protective Giant Teddy Bear BF; always gets things from the high shelf, gives you his jacket even if you aren't cold - is a bit traditional, but has the potential to be more open-minded if you want him to be

Loves when you massage his head, he gets a lot of headaches. Probably because he scowls a lot, and furrows his brows... or maybe he just thinks too hard?? Either way; his eyes turn to the back of his head when your hands connect with his scalp

Literally growls, has a lot of animalistic qualities and growling is the biggest show of it.

He likes to wash your hair for you. He admires your hair a lot and wants to make it as shiny and pretty as possible

Whenever you're out, he always has an arm around your shoulders. Especially when there's other men. He does get jealous easily but it's more of a protective thing than a jealous thing.

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Like Real People Do by Hozier

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

More Alike Than Different

Malewife x Girlboss

Places His Wife Above Everyone

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Home Is Wherever You Are But People Keep Trying To Tear Us Apart

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖

You give him a run for his money; you have a lot of wit and determination. A lethal combination. He loves that about you, the multidimensional aspects of your personality. You can stump him on the daily.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

Inej, you two would just get each other. On another level. One where you don't have to talk every single day whenever you're together. You're on the same page.

𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆

A mix of Inej and Alina. Quiet, mysterious, and keep to themselves. You aren't too loud and definitely not overbearing like some people.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒆𝒕

A gorgeous little kitten had appeared out of an alleyway as you walked down the road. He was meowing, almost trying to talk to you. And then you started talking back to him. And than before you knew it, you were home and you felt rude not inviting him in.

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝐼 𝑠𝘩𝑖𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑆𝑡𝑒𝑣𝑒 𝐻𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑡𝑜𝑛! The charming, effervescent man of Hawkins. I think you two would be the ruling pair of the town. The perfect duo, the banter would be off the charts, because there would always be this lighthearted feeling when the two of you are together.

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

The kids LOVE YOU, well... the teenagers love you. Especially Dustin, who blushes whenever you're around. And yes, Steve teases him relentlessly about it

You do help babysit them, you're like the babysitting couple. They call you Mom and Dad. Steve even feeds them, makes sure they've drunk enough water. He honestly sees them as his own in a way.

You don't understand the Upside Down completely, but you don't need to - you just get right in there and fuck the consequences.

Steve absolutely adores you. And he shows you by remembering every detail about you. Buying you your favourite flowers, picking up your favourite take away for lunch and/or dinner. He's also very affectionate, and loves hugs, kisses,, especially forehead kisses

While also being a great couple, you're also great as best friends. You even have a secret handshake.

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

This Feeling by Alabama Shakes

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Hates Reading (Steve) x Lives For Reading (You)

Big Goals Girlfriend (You) x No Goals Boyfriend Who Tags Along Wherever She Goes (Steve)

Plant Dies (You) x Buys Them A New One (Steve)

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Right Person, Wrong Time.

Had To Wait For Your Love

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖

Steve loves how creative you are! It blows his mind with what you come up with. Your imagination astounds him. He honestly sees you as some sort of genius. And yes, he does tell people his girlfriend is a genius.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

Nancy. She really pushed you academically, you two would study together a lot. Gossip, sit together at school, and go to the library. You spend a lot of time together. And then she got together with Steve and it hurt. But you let it happen.

And years went by. Events happened. El came to Hawkins.

It took ages for Steve to realise his feelings but Robin helped him.

Nancy didn't mind at all that you two were together, it slightly hurt - but only slightly.

𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆

Nancy and Max. It's the love of reading, the bitchy side (as you said) that can come out, the determination and introvert who can become an extrovert when needed.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒆𝒕

Your neighbourhood knows who your dog is. The large black German Shepherd that barks at anything that moves. He's incredibly protective of you, and waits for you to come home every day. He's your best friend.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

A/N: If there’s anything I learned from doing this, it’s that vampirerry is an utter WHORE. Good for him!!!! As for myself, I’m done with the semester and my term projects and finals left my singular brain cell fried, so this was a nice way to get back into writing again. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you to the anon that suggested it, this was super fun to do! :D

read you’re someone i just want around here

word count: 6k

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Harry is very attentive when it comes to aftercare with Y/N. The sex they have is often rough and includes toys, degradation, and multiple rounds, so he believes aftercare is non-negotiable. Rough sex can be fun, but if it’s not followed by a lot of communication and post-performance support, it can take a hard emotional toll on a person. Even when intimacy isn’t meant to be inherently sentimental, there has to be a certain level of connection and etiquette surrounding it, or it could end badly for both parties involved. He always checks on her immediately after they finish, simply to gauge her headspace and how her body is responding, and after he’s made sure she’s alright, he goes into his usual routine of skin-to-skin contact and gentle coddling. Reassurance and praise is just as important afterwards as it is during, because it’s good to let a partner know that your appreciation runs deeper than just the physical need felt in the heat of the moment; everyone deserves to feel valued beyond their body. 

Harry proceeds to clean Y/N up after every session, because it’s the least he can do since she’s usually the one getting the brunt of the work. He’ll fetch a clean towel dampened under warm water to wipe her clean, or he’ll offer to help give her a bath or a shower— whichever route she prefers. Harry dresses her, and changes the sheets if need be, and tucks her into bed to ensure she’s nice and comfortable. If it’s been a particularly intense session, he’ll go the kitchen and bring back a snack and a drink— a granola bar and a Gatorade, or some chips and her favorite juice, or if she’s feeling especially hungry, he’ll happily go out of his way to prepare her an actual meal— and he insists on feeding it to her bit by bit until she’s come to enough to handle it on her own. If she’s not hungry, he at least brings her a glass of water and urges her to drink it; better to be safe than sorry. After that, more cuddling is the status quo, which normally ends in Y/N falling asleep in his arms, and Harry has absolutely no problem with that at all.  

B = Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Harry’s favorite body part of Y/N’s is probably her chest. Yes, he likes it for sexual reasons— obviously— but there are innocent reasons for his fascination, as well. He likes how responsive she gets when he touches her there— how he can get her going just by groping her the way she likes it, or by using his mouth to tongue across her nipples until she’s writhing in pleasure and whining for more. He loves leaving hickies all over her tits, probably more than she likes receiving them. It’s just so fucking hot seeing himself marked all over her, especially when she’s putting on a bra and he can see all of the dark bruises scattered across the cleavage spilling from the undergarment. Filth aside, he also enjoys loving all over her chest. Absentmindedly cupping them while they’re snuggling, nuzzling his head between them while they’re watching television, massaging them under her shirt with his large palms as she sits back against his chest, sipping a glass of wine and chatting away, unwinding after a long day. It’s a form of intimacy; it provides a type of closeness nothing else can. 

As for his own favorite body part, it’s a tie between two different areas. He loves his thighs— they’re one of his most prominent features. They’re thick and meaty and sensitive, so they’re the perfect sweet spot to touch when he wants to get riled up. Given his previous response, it can be easily deduced that he likes to get hickies there, as well. The marks look great peeking out from under his briefs (for the short amount of time they last, anyways) and they make a great accessory to the large tigerhead tattoo along his left thigh. It’s artwork, really; a proper Picasso. 

His other favorite body part...well, take a lucky guess. It’s likely not that far off— literally, considering it hangs right between his thighs. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Harry’s personal preference is cumming inside. He adores feeling the way Y/N tightens around him when he finally orgasms (she’s just so warm and soft and unbelievably tight; it’s like she was made for him), almost as much as he loves seeing her reaction. Her body will immediately start to wriggle and her back will arch as she releases broken little whimpers, clinging to his shoulders with her nails and begging him to fill her until he’s milked his worth. Hearing her ragged breathing and feeling her sweaty chest stutter against his is enough to do him in, but when she goes as far as to gnaw on his ear and whine a soft little, “Want it all, baby. Want you dripping out of me when we’re done.” Well, that’s enough to kill him all over again. 

Of course, there are times when Harry likes seeing himself all over her, too. On her outstretched tongue, or smeared across her pretty face and plush lips (she looks particularly cute when it ends up all over her eyelashes), or streaked over the valley of her tits, or pooled at the center of her tummy. If he’d been taking her from behind, then he likes seeing it run down the backs of her thighs, or splattered across the dip of her spine. And if she’d been giving him a handjob, then seeing himself dribbling down her fingers is just as good. Why? Because those fingers usually end up in her mouth, which means he ends up all over her tongue, and so the cycle comes full circle. How poetic. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Did Harry suggest wearing a matching set of a vibrating cock ring and buzzing bullet to do grocery shopping once? Yes. Did he drop three glass jars of peach preserves by accident as a result, causing them to have to book it out of the bread aisle while trying to look as unsuspicious as possible, which failed horribly because they were literally hobbling like a crippled elderly couple? Also yes. Did they end up fucking in a Target fitting room? Definitely. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

A lot of experience. Tons. Immense amounts. Insane amounts. Two hundred years of the same seven continents just means two hundred years worth of sex across every single one. And it gives you plenty of time to find the clitoris, as well as giving you a chance to learn the female anatomy like the back of your hand. That being said, Harry doesn’t doubt he could make Y/N cum with his wrists tied behind his back and a blindfold strapped to his face. In fact, he’s made her cum just by using his thigh, so that in itself is enough credibility to last him several more lifetimes. The toy chest in his closet and the fact that he’s well-endowed are bonuses— he knows more than enough tricks to keep her satisfied with just his tongue. Not to mention his fingers— they’re long for a reason.

F = Favorite position  

Funny enough, Harry doesn’t have one. He’s spent so many decades cycling through every possible position in existence, it’s gotten to where he can’t pin-point a preference; all positions are unique, and they each have their own appeal. Reverse cowgirl is nice because he likes watching the way he stretches Y/N open with every plunge of her hips, and it also gives him the luxury of marking his rings across her ass in the process. Regular cowgirl is nice, too— having her chest bouncing in his face is nothing short of a divine miracle, in his opinion. Doggy style is a staple, and there’s always different add-ons he can apply to spice it up; for example, taking her from behind with her wrists tied to her ankles, or bending her over the kitchen counter with her face pressed into the marble, or fucking her against his glass wall with her hands and chest flushed to the cool surface as their breaths fog the floor-to-ceiling window. 

Missionary is a tried and true option, and just like it’s prior counterpart, it can be enhanced with a variety of extra tricks. Bondage is a good condiment, against the wall is always a nice touch, spread-eagle never goes wrong, and just having her legs wrapped around his lower back is more than enough. However, he does have two favorite variations of the position. The first is when he mounts her legs onto his shoulders or along the inside of his elbows to open her up more, and then just ramming his hips down at a very specific angle that hits her g-spot just right, pounding her into the bed so hard she tears the sheets off the mattress. The second is a cowgirl-missionary hybrid: he sits back on his heels and uses the steep downward slope created by his thighs as elevation, pulling her ass onto his tilted lap and swinging her legs over either side of his hips. He gropes her waist with his palms and yanks her forward, bouncing her against his cock and watching her completely dismantle as he nudges all the right places with as much speed and force as she deems fit. 

And then there’s fucking from the side, but that’s a whole other extensive conversation he doesn’t have time for. 

Actually, maybe Harry will entertain it for a minute or so. He usually throws one of Y/N’s legs over his neck to get a deeper range, manhandling her roughly onto her side and yanking her closer to his body by her waist, grasping it with stern vigor and holding her down against the mattress, grunting out a gravelly, strict command along the lines of, “Stay fucking still.” He’ll drill into her at a brutal, consistent pace, staining his fingerprints along the curves of her torso and sponging damp kisses onto her ankle, smirking into her skin as he watches her fist at the duvet in a futile attempt at maintaining her bearings. It’s pretty evident that she can’t, though; the way her eyes lull around their sockets from his harsh stride does a terrible job at hiding her lack of self-control, alongside the fragmented curses she gasps out whenever he nudges her g-spot with the head of his cock. 

“Oh, that was such a pretty noise. Did I hit that little spot you like?”

Her response will be begrudging, as always, which he thinks is ridiculously useless considering he can see her burying her face into the pillow to hide how her jaw drops open in sheer rapture. “No.”

“No?” The vampire leans forward, stretching her leg towards the headboard and preening at the garbled squeak that escapes her gritted teeth, plunging deeper as he lowers himself to her level. He knots her hair around his knuckles, tugging sharply until her face is tilted back enough to meet his fiery gaze. “Then why are you starting to shake?

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends on the mood, honestly. There are definitely serious moments, but Harry enjoys the humorous ones just as much. He already adores making Y/N laugh and smile on a regular basis, and that desire only grows when he’s buried between her thighs, simply because she just looks so fucking cute laughing with her hair splayed around the pillows in a messy halo, her sounds of glee stuttering due to how sharply she’s jolting against the bed. He loves feeling her giggle into his mouth as he cracks sarcastic jokes and makes stupid witty comments that break the intensity in the air, especially because she’s usually clever enough to return them with some of her own. Then they both end up snickering like idiots as he tries to keep a solid pace, which eventually tapers to a messy, haphazard stride as their laughter drowns out their goal to the point where he has to take a genuine break to collect himself. There’s tons of examples— how could there not be? Sex is hardly ever perfect, so awkward moments are not only expected, but guaranteed. What better way to handle them than with a bit of humor?

There was an incident once where Harry accidentally knocked their foreheads together so hard, they both bruised (which he responded to with, “I’m pretty sure this isn’t what Cosmopolitan meant when they suggested matching couples tattoos.”). Another time, he got so into the moment he didn’t realize he was jack-hammering the top of her head into the backboard until she brought it to his attention (and made a comment saying it sounded like a sped up version of the beat to We Will Rock You). A bad case of the hiccups. Y/N burping right in his face halfway through his orgasm. A random leg cramp that made him think he was going to need amputation to survive. Accidentally rolling off the bed or couch onto the ground and nearly dislocating both of their spines in the process, getting his cross earring tangled in her hair and nearly ripping off his ear trying to get it out, and the unfortunate collapse of a pillow fort he’d spent over an hour building. He even sneezed in her face once, and when she instinctively went to shove him back, she wound up slamming her palm into his nose so hard he nearly passed out. Nose bleeds aren’t necessarily sexy, per se, but he just dug blindly through her nightstand until he found two new tampons somewhere in that black hole she calls a drawer, shoved them in his nostrils, and kept going. No one can ever accuse him of being unresourceful. 

Queefing. Lots and lots of queefing, which he usually starts mimicking with his mouth, and then she responds to that by whining and telling him to cut it out, and then he takes to mocking her whining instead. It normally finishes with them laughing so hard that Harry’s cheeks hurt from smiling so big, but it’s a good type of pain. The best type of pain. 

H = Hair (how do they groom?)

Harry likes keeping himself neat and orderly, but he doesn’t enjoy going bare, so trimming is his grooming preference. There’s just something so unappealing about a completely smooth dick— it looks like raw chicken and it’s fucking disgusting. He doesn’t have anything against a good bush, but it tends to get unruly and he’d rather not have to overcomplicate his shower routine. And honestly, he can’t trust himself because last time he had a full front yard going, he got shitfaced and tried to braid it on a dare. Keeping the hedges trimmed is the ideal landscaping option, and it just looks way hotter— a uniform dusting of hair is a good accessory and it just makes everything look more cohesive, given that he also fancies keeping his happy trail thick. It’s all about aesthetics, isn’t it? 

I = Intimacy (the romantic aspect)

It’s no secret that Harry’s been somewhat detached from intimacy for the last two hundred years or so. Intimacy is reserved for genuine romance, and that’s something he hadn’t entertained since before the lightbulb was invented. But now that he has Y/N, intimacy has crawled its way back out from the deepest recesses of his subconscious, where it had been shoved into a bottomless pit with the rest of his trauma. He likes it— he likes opening up to her in any way he can, because sharing those obsolete parts of himself with someone again is more fulfilling than he ever imagined. He likes kissing her randomly when she’s halfway through a sentence, just to feel her words die off abruptly in her throat as she gives into his gentle gesture, a delicate smile spreading across her satin lips. He likes whispering sweet phrases of encouragement into her hair when they’re tangled amidst sweaty limbs and rumpled sheets, reminding her of how much he cares for her and how beautiful she looks when she’s so far gone and how she makes him feel like his entire body has been set alight. He likes sponging soft pecks across the stretch marks along her thighs and across the dimples on her belly, her skin candy and velvet on his tongue as she releases a watery sigh that lets him know he’s doing all the right things in all the right places. He just likes letting her know she's special to him, in any and every way he can. 

Intimacy forges timeless bonds, and he reckons that assumption is unarguable, considering he knows a thing or two about eternity. 

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

Harry likes to jack off, obviously. Who doesn’t? It’s why he has an entire section of his toy chest dedicated to self-pleasuring tools. Vibrating cock rings, an array of lubes that range from temperature-changing to sensation sensitivity, and a few pocket vags that get the job done whenever Y/N is out of commission (usually because of work). His favorite one is an electronic sleek black model that is made of a premium silicone material and has a variety of massage settings, suction strengths, and internal textures. It’s designed to make the session feel more real, and yes, it was expensive, but self-love is always worth the splurge. 

The beauty of living on his own is that he can get off wherever and whenever he wants, without having to stress about someone interrupting an important step in his pampering routine. He usually does it in his room and on his bed, simply because Y/N’s pillow is close by and the experience is heightened when her scent is swimming around his hazy, bliss-drunken mind. If Harry is feeling particularly needy, he’ll ditch the toy all together and just hump one out against the mattress or cushion. If it’s a particularly restless day, he’ll take a toy downstairs and lazily play within himself on the couch while browsing through Netflix. Those instances usually average a few tamer orgasms rather than a single large one, but he’s not complaining; his stamina comes in unapologetic waves that stem from a never-ending supply, and he certainly has the time to kill. If Harry gets the sudden urge in the shower or while he’s relaxing in his jacuzzi, he won’t bother fetching a trinket; he’ll just stroke one out with his hand, using the cool metal of his trusty lionhead ring to tease the tip until he brings himself to orgasm. It turns out daylight crystals have more than one use. 

There is one common factor amongst all these different choices, though: Y/N is present in every fantasy. And if the vampire is feeling especially bold, he’ll grab his phone and take a video of whatever he’s doing to himself, and then she’ll have a nice little gift waiting for her once she gets out of the café for the day. That usually leads to him receiving a present in return later that evening, and then he’s dialing her contact before the clip is even done playing, and then what he does during his alone time doesn’t require him being so alone anymore. 

K = Kinks 

Harry has tons— in fact, he has so many, he can’t really keep track. And he also has the sneaking suspicion that if he were to ever jot all of them down, he’d end up locked in some type of sex addict rehabilitation center. Bondage is a big one, so he’ll start there. He’s great with ropes, given that he learned his way around them ages ago. Chains are nice, but they can be a pain to set up without the right equipment; he’s thinking of getting a reinforced metal hook installed into his ceiling, like the one in his storage closet, which he uses to keep his punching bag secure. Handcuffs, obviously— velvet-lined, straight metal, fuzzy coverings, he’s got it all. Dominance, degradation, Daddy, Sir, choking, brat-taming, spanking, flogging, slapping— impact play in general, to be honest— spitting, wax, praise, begging, masochism, branding (mild stuff, no molten metal shit), collaring, discipline, dirty talk, edging, exhibitionism, face-fucking, face-sitting (with him on the receiving end), giving oral (is that a kink? It is now.) gagging (both the action and using the actual object itself), breeding (he hates that term but that’s the official name, unfortunately), teasing, voyeurism, role play, and… he thinks that’s it. Oh, and blood, but that doesn’t really count for apparent reasons. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Y/N’s couch is sacred, at this point. Their entire relationship started on that lumpy, worn excuse of a sofa, and it’s seen them through their progression from strangers to friends with benefits to lovers to more. It’s comfortable enough, the dark color hides any explicit stains, and the cushions always smell of her signature mixture of honey and lavender combined with Snuggle fabric softener. It’s finicky, but irreplaceable. His kitchen counter is a close second. It’s provided a lot, taken a lot, been through a lot— through a lot of Lysol wipes, to be specific. If it wasn’t marble, it likely would have been reduced to chunks and rubble by now, courtesy of his enhanced strength gripping the edges as he slams her against the smooth surface. The backseat of his Cadillac is consecrated, as well; there’s just so much erotic appeal to fucking in a car with rock music blaring in the background, muffling the obscene sounds of bodies connecting and a mixture of fever-pitch moans. The couch, the counter, and the Cadillac— the Unholy Trinity. 

The jacuzzi is nice, too, but for the sake of his clever little “c” alliteration, he’ll leave that one as an implied token. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As much as Harry claims he likes full submission in bed, he can’t deny that he loves being challenged. Delivering punishment and coaxing out an orgasm is so much more satisfying when he has to fight for it; it’s so fucking hot watching his girlfriend try to best him in a power struggle, especially when she finally— and undeniably, since he always wins— caves under his will and winds up begging him for what he otherwise would have gifted her freely. That’s where the brat-taming kink comes into play. He likes it when she mouths off and makes snarky digs, and he enjoys it even more when he tries to set her in place and she amps her disobedience as a result. There’s nothing more attractive than a battle of wits with someone who is a perfect match in every way. And when she channels her attitude into physical gestures, it riles him up beyond compare. For example, when she smirks and rolls her eyes, despite the fact that there’s trails of tears staining her cheeks and mascara smeared all over her waterline? Christ, he could go feral. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No feet, no feces, no beastiality. There’s probably more, but those are the ones off the top of his head.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Receiving oral is great— he highly recommends it, solid ten out of ten— but giving it is so much better. Harry’s always been a giver, even when he was young and barely knew his way around a woman’s undergarments. The stereotypical expectation for a person who is beginning to explore their sexuality is that everything they do, they do for their own gain. It’s a selfish realization, yes, but it’s a primal type of selfishness that no one can truly be blamed for. It’s a simple concept: when you start having sex, you want as much personal benefit as possible. It’s only natural. But from the second Harry became sexually active, he came to find that providing release to his partner outweighed the bliss he could get from letting them pleasure him instead. It’s not direct pleasure, but rather cognitive, which more often than not translates itself physically. And when it comes to Y/N, that euphoria manifests tenfold. 

Nothing compares to having his face buried between her legs as she tugs and yanks at his hair desperately, her chest heaving and jaw falling open as he uses his tongue to unravel her from the inside out. Spitting sloppily onto her folds and hearing the raw gasp of aroused shock that escapes her sore throat, which causes his swollen lips to spread into a dirty grin as he latches onto the sensitive bud at the thick of her core, fiddling with it until her legs are trembling uncontrollably around his sturdy shoulders. Watching her features go slack as he bobs his neck fervently between her thighs, swiping the bridge of his nose across her clit over and over until the entire bottom half of his face is drenched in her excitement. Fucking his tongue into her and feeling her buck against his jaw as she holds him in place with her fingers tangled in his curls, whimpering his name repeatedly in a voice so shattered, he could probably build a mosaic with the fractures. Feeling her drip down his chin and into the collar of his shirt, savoring how sweet she tastes as he pins her hips down against the bed and groans feverishly into her cunt, his ego idolizing the image of her so disheveled under his influence. 

A measly blowjob is hardly any competition to that. Harry could very well cum just from eating Y/N out. In fact, he has, and that in itself is all the proof he needs. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This is one of those other factors that depends on the mood. If Harry has been waiting all day for it, his impatience bleeds into his rhythm, which means he settles for fast and hard. It means he settles for bending her over the back of his couch with one palm around her throat and his other fingers in her mouth, pounding into her with so much force, the sofa starts shifting across the ground. If Y/N has been teasing him endlessly for a decent amount of time, it’ll be rough and deep, but not fast; he’ll drag it out for as long as possible, just to make her regret acting like such a spoiled brat. That’s when he brings out the paddle, or the crop, or just manhandles her across his lap and spanks her until she’s apologizing profusely through her whines. If he’s in a soft, romantic headspace, it’ll be slow and sensual, with lots of gentle caresses, giggly kisses dusted across eager lips and droopy eyelids, and penetrating strokes that make his toes curl and tummy clench. 

Pace is relative, but the message behind it is all the same: I want you more than anything, and I’m going to show you just how deeply I mean it. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are fun, Harry will admit. They’re filthy and messy, and they show just how far gone two people are for each other to the point where they can’t wait to feel one another at a later time; that they need to be together now, or they’ll go absolutely insane. Quickies are saved for when the urge strikes at random times. For when he’s out with Y/N at a park, sitting under the shade with his head in her lap as she combs his curls out of his eyes and thumbs over his chin affectionately, and the sun filters through the tree canopy just right to where it illuminates her lashes and the suppleness of her cheeks in a manner he deems ethereal. For when they’re at the mall, walking hand in hand and licking at ice cream cones as they survey the shops, and she reaches over to wipe a bit of Rocky Road off the corner of his mouth, replacing the stain with a soft stipple of her lips instead. For when they’re out eating dinner and playing footsie under the table like immature teenagers, and she’s trying to steal a French fry from his plate but he keeps fighting her off with his fork because, “I told you to order your own, but you wanted those disgusting potato skins instead!” And she’s laughing so brightly and unapologetically, giving him a look that so obviously tells him she can’t wait to get him alone, and nothing seems quite as flawless as that fraction in time, then and there and nowhere else.

These simple but memorable moments cause him to get love boners, which he jokingly refers to as “sniffy stiffies,” where “sniffy” has to do with being sentimental, and “stiffy”...well, that one is pretty self-explanatory, no? It always ends with them shagging in the car, or in the family bathroom of a diner, and in the case of the park, in an obscure area of the forest that lines the jogging trail. 

Quickies are just that— fast, but meaningful nonetheless, because they come from a place of genuine emotion. They’re fleeting, but unforgettable. Sniffy stiffy quickies, if you will. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Taking risks is the norm in Harry’s life, especially when it comes to his sex habits. He’s proven time and time again that he has no problem riding along the seams of a dare and just barely making it out unscathed, so experimenting outside of the bedroom is just another day in the life. Fingering Y/N in a music room in an antique shop, getting road head during a two hour drive back to Los Angeles, ripping his girlfriend’s panties out from beneath her dress at one of California’s most prestigious restaurants— the list is endless, really. Harry likes to think he has a gift for coming up with inspirational quotes on the spot, so he’ll lend his expertise here and now: “A life without risks is a life that isn’t worth shit.” It even rhymes, so he knows sorority pledges will have a ball putting it in their Instagram bios. A bit of charity work for the bird-brained. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Endless stamina. Literally. Vampires don’t stay tired for long, so he could be ready to go again within seconds. And he can last long, as well; his stubbornness and pride depend on it, and he likes making his partner cum first as an ego boost. He can go as many rounds as Y/N can and more, though he won’t push it. He doesn’t want her to end up in the ER with a bruised cervix. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Harry could run a sex shop from his closet; Y/N doesn’t take the piss by calling him “Fifty Shades” for no reason. He uses them on himself, he uses them on her, and he got high once and tried to sword fight Y/N with a dildo, so it’s safe to say he definitely uses them quite a bit. If his Lovesense Lush 3 vibrator could talk, he’d be drawn and quartered for excessive debauchery. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Harry loves teasing, that’s no mystery. Winding people up is one of his most practiced skills, so of course that would channel into his intimate life. He’s mastered it, though it’s not like it’s hard. A drawn out blink here, or a feathery touch there. An inch of space between his and Y/N’s lips to establish some tension, or squeezing her inner thigh with his palm hard enough to draw a tiny squeak from her chest. Touching her through her clothes, or leaving a trail of wet kisses down her throat and stopping right at her cleavage. Biting the sensitive skin along the inside of her knee, or dragging the tip of his cold nose down the center of her twitching tummy. Lapping slowly at her nipples until they perk up, or sinking a single long digit inside her and keeping it there just to feel her clench around it needily. And once he gets a pattern going, teasing molds into edging, edging molds into begging, begging molds into praise, and before he knows it, he’s hit four of his kinks with one roll of the dice. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Harry is very vocal in bed, and he’s not ashamed of it. He knows for a fact that Y/N loves it, and if him being loud gets her worked up, then he’ll let his throat go out in the process. He’s noticed that in different situations, he has an arsenal of sounds for each. If he’s being rough and dominant, he tends to groan, grunt, and growl. If he’s being desperate and needy, he turns to whines and whimpers to communicate how he feels. If he’s too zoned into the moment to distinguish all his emotions, broken moans and stuttered mewls are his default. No matter the circumstance, they all take the same route: they start low and soft, and escalate in volume proportional to the intensity of the moment. So what if half the building is hearing him orgasm for the third time as he mocks his girlfriends sobbing pleads and calls her his “dirty fucking whore”? Let’s be honest, it’s probably the highlight of their week. He has a great voice— a sultry, deep baritone that compliments his English accent nicely— and anyone would be lucky to hear it spew the filth it does. He’s yet to get many complaints, so he doesn’t intend on stopping. 

W = Wildcard (random headcanon)

An honesty hour moment seems interesting, so he’ll confess a few tales from his past. The first time Harry ever went down on a girl, it was against a tree in a garden and he nearly asphyxiated under all the layers of her gown. A couple of years later, he ended up getting oral from a reverend’s daughter against a tree, too, for the morbid irony and associated religious revenge. And to drive the point home, oral was only the beginning of what she gave him. His first decade as a vampire was definitely his pettiest. 

X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It’s not uncommon knowledge that Harry’s well-endowed. He remembers how insecure he was the first time he had sex— a shocker, he knows; he was insecure?— and how he knew barely anything regarding sizing and how to use his assets accordingly. But it’s been ages since then, and now he definitely knows his way around his own body (let alone his partner’s), and he most certainly knows that he’s above average not only as a person in general, but when it comes to what’s in his trousers, as well. Harry won’t specify inches— he loves how speculation drives others mad— but it was big enough to give Y/N a decent pause the first time she pulled down his pants, and it’s big enough to leave her absolutely fucked every single time, without a single miss. If that’s not credibility at its finest, then he doesn’t know what is.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Harry’s sex drive is insatiable, to say the least. His vampirism combined with his narcissistic tendencies makes the ideal cocktail— cocktail— for the constant fuse that’s always burning under his skin. He’s ready to go at all times; Y/N just has to say the word and he’s pulling on a pair of sweatpants as he grabs his keys, hopping down his complex’s corridor toward the elevator on one foot as he tries to get his last shoe on the other. Lazy morning sex is probably his favorite; he’s come to find it’s when he’s most pent up, usually after a sleepless night of feeling Y/N’s body heat radiating through all of his cold limbs. It also sets a great tone for the rest of the day, and he just loves seeing Y/N wake up to him lying on his side with his temple resting on his fist, his elbow propped against the mattress as he poses the other on his hip in a theatrical diva stance. He’ll smile at her giddily with all his pearly teeth, dimples twitching as his lashes flutter dramatically, dirty intentions written clear all over his face (“Good morning, hon—” “Wanna have sex?” “Harry, it’s ten in the morning.” “Is that a yes? Because it’s not a no.” “I haven’t even brushed my teeth!” “That’s fine, I’m gonna stick my dick in there anyways.”) 

All in all, his libido is insane, and he’s lucky that Y/N’s is up to par or else he would have worked her into an exhaustion-induced coma by now. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Harry just...doesn't. Maybe once every few weeks, but definitely more often now than before he had his girlfriend. Sleeping just comes way easier when he has someone he cares about resting beside him, their inherent warmth thawing the stiffness from his muscles and putting his racing mind at ease. He feels safe enough around Y/N to let his guard down— both literally and metaphorically— and that seems to help with his supernatural insomnia; it sedates that nocturnal hyper-instinct in his brain that demands he be aware at all times, muffling the animalistic part of him that has been manning the reins for the better half of the last two hundred years. He doesn’t need to be so on edge anymore when everything he needs is just an arm-length away. Especially when she’s usually willing to lend her chest as a pillow, and who is he to neglect her wishes.   

[zukuist]

showers

“you take a shower with them”

includes: todoroki shouto, bakugou katsuki, shinsou hitoshi

your name is shortened to y/n, f!reader, but no bodyparts mentioned so..

notes: okay. i’m sorry that i’ve been a little inactive! online school hasn’t been so kind with me. also, i’m making a rather long post, so i wanted to put this out first.

-

todoroki shouto

so you accidentally walk into the bathroom while shouto was showering

and as soon as you saw his naked back, you were like

“SHIT sorry!”

and you immediately went to leave the bathroom, but shouto’s like

“y/n, we’re dating. it’s okay.”

and you’re like.. “you sure?” and he’s just nodding

“in fact.. why don’t you join me?”

and that’s how it became a sudden habit for you guys to shower together

not only is it good for a nice bonding moment, but it’s really efficient in saving time.

this activity isn’t explicit in the slightest.

todoroki tries to keep his eyes up to your face, but omg they end up wandering

he’s respectful. and he’ll immediately apologize if his eyes wandered someplace else.

regarding water temperatures, he can’t really tell when something’s too hot or too cold

so please tell him if something feels too hot or too cold.

he’ll adjust the temperatures, just for you.

he’ll wash your back for you, and you’ll wash his back

if you want, he’ll also give you a head massage— massaging your hair products thoroughly and gently.

wash his hair, and he’ll be forever thankful.

with baths, he kinda ends up falling asleep due to the fact that it’s so relaxing??

so please talk to him while you’re in the bath with him.

shouto can and will listen to you talk forever, resting his head on your shoulder as he curls up next to you.

he enjoys bubble baths. but he’ll get carried away, so the bath will just be one big tub of bubbles.

after showering with you, he’ll dry your body with a towel, and then he’ll offer to put lotion on your entire body— ofcourse nothing explicit.

and if you have any prescriptioned medication for eczema or any skin condition, then he’ll most likely get them first

then he’ll get fresh clothes for you.

it sets off a warm feeling inside of you, it’s a pleasure showering with todo

bakugou katsuki

the first time he walked in on you showering, he was really flustered

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT A LOCK IS?” he scolded you, face hot and flushed from seeing you literally bare naked

“i see no point in being embarassed, ‘suki” you shrug.

you’re a lot calmer than him, seeing that he’s embarrassed

so to help the situation, you ask him “why don’t you just get in here?”

he grumbles to himself, hating how flustered he became; and that it was not himself

he thought that as he got into the shower with you, telling you to move aside

idk why but i see bakugou as someone that likes hot showers?

which you find so odd because how much heat can he even take before it becomes too much?

tell him to make the water cooler, and he’ll scoff at you— but then he’ll turn the knob over slightly to the cooler side

really tries to be gentle with washing your hair (if you allow him.)

but that man has that gorilla grip-

regarding washing your back, if you ask him to do it, he’ll just be like

🤨 “do it yourself, idiot”

he’ll say that, as he’s grabbing the loofa lathering it with soap.

pretty harsh with washing your back, but he’ll make up for it later.

the chances of slipping in the shower increases because of the constant shifting.

but he’ll catch you 98% of the time.

baths is when it finally calms down,

you settle down beside him, and he’ll slink his arm around your shoulder.

not much is being exchanged, because he’ll just ask you to shut up and sit in silence.

do NOT start a water fight. this will get water everywhere. and it’ll be a hassle to clean up.

if you’ll ask him to dry you up, he’ll just throw a towel at you

“do it yourself.” he narrows his eyes, but while you’re doing that— he’s making you sit down

just so he can apply lotion on your legs

then he’ll throw some clothes on you, and then lifting you up so he can bring you back to his room

he says he prefers showering alone, but he coincidentally walks in the bathroom while you’re showering

and he might as well just shower with you, since you’re asking him so nicely.

shinsou hitoshi

you accidentally walked into the bathroom while he was showering

and you almost died on the spot, just by seeing him

“i’m so sorry hitoshi!” you turn around, covering your eyes.

and shinsou’s just like.. “get in here. you need to shower, right?”

and you just blink owlishly.

“..if you say so.”

and thats how it began.

he owns a lot of lavender for some reason. so i hope you like that kind of stuff

and he’ll highly appreciate it if you wash his hair for him. it brings him peace.

and he’ll wash your hair for you too— again, if you’re okay with it.

and he honestly just really likes doing it for you. idk, it calms him down more than it calms you down

washing your back is a wonderful experience for hitoshi. he’s just lucky he doesn’t fall asleep in the middle of it

and he’s more than welcome to return the favor and wash your back.

hitoshi loves baths more than anything, especially when he’s with you

he’ll bring you close to his chest, humming as he rests his chin on top of your head.

then he’ll just talk about whatever was on his mind.

slipping in showers? never heard of her.

it happened once, and he felt really bad afterwards. so he’s been careful ever since then.

then he’ll dry your body thoroughly, applying lotion onto your legs, as he maintains eyecontact with you.

afterwards, he’ll fetch a clean shirt, and dress you in it. bc he likes it when you wear his clothes

then he’ll probably let you dry his hair. actually.. please do so. dry his hair.

the entire experience is pleasant. he’d probably invite you to shower with him more

because if he doesn’t he’ll feel really bored. he looks forward to every shower because of you.

—

izukulie™️ 2021, bnha|mha belongs to horikoshi kohei. do not steal my work ❕

[homerforsure]

Whumptober No. 6 Bruises / Touch Starved / Hunger Whumptober No. 30 major character death / left for dead / ghosts

Me: I can’t believe I have to post this absolutely incomprehensible piece of writing. 

Me: You don’t... have to?

Me: No, I’m gonna. 

Buck has an exceptional number of pillows on his bed. There are six, before he knocks a few to the floor every night, and he burrows into them like a nest, curling up with one against his chest, two pressed against his back, one between his legs. His sheets are a ridiculously priced, cool, crisp cotton that welcomes him in, surrounding him. The blankets he uses aren’t weighted, but they’re heavy and thick and he keeps his air conditioning turned up so he doesn’t have to give up the feeling of nestling into them in the heat of summer. Along with the white noise machine on his night stand, all of it is chosen to trick him into sleep. To keep back the feeling that night time in his own apartment is the loneliest part of Buck’s day. 

It wasn’t perfect, pre-covid. It’s been a long time since Buck had someone share his space, share his bed, someone he could reach out and touch whenever he wanted. But his life outside of home was full. He didn’t lack for closeness; in some ways he had more than he’d ever dreamed. So while he had lonely moments, they weren’t a constant ache in his chest. 

These months though. These months hurt. Facetime isn’t a substitute for curling up on Maddie’s couch with whatever silly-labeled wine she’d liked best that week. It’s definitely not a substitute for Eddie’s couch and losing to Christopher over and over again at Mario Kart. The last time they talked, Eddie had reached over and ruffled Christopher’s hair and Buck felt it. First as a tingle up the back of his scalp and then as a bruise to his heart. Eddie’s touches, so constant and so casual, became essential somewhere along the way and Buck feels himself reaching out for them even when he knows it’s not allowed.

“Six feet, gentlemen,” Bobby says gently when their orbits swing toward each other and Eddie makes a dramatic show of raising his hands and taking a giant step backward. Bobby just shakes his head and reminds them it’s the price they all agreed to pay for not wearing masks in the firehouse. 

Buck starts dreading the end of a call when taking off his heavy turnout coat leaves him feeling cold and exposed. He folds into himself, claiming a chair, putting in earbuds and crossing his arms tight over his chest, pulling his knees up even though he knows better than to put his shoes on the furniture.

It’s a similar position to the one he lies in at night, clinging to the pillows, trying to draw comfort out of the smooth fabric. In those moments, his loneliness is so loud it might as well be a beacon sent out into the universe, a burning shout of need. 

And that shout is heard. 

***

“Have you guys heard of exploding head syndrome?” Buck asks one morning when the calls are slow and the crew is all lingering in a lazy way rather than rushing off to take care of their other duties. 

“What, the band?” Chimney asks.

“I think it was an album,” Bobby says.

“No,” Buck sighs. “It’s a sleep thing. It’s this loud noise that you hear when you’re falling asleep like a massively loud explosion. Only it’s just happening in your head.”

“Is your brain actually exploding? Like an aneurism?”

“No. It’s just the noise.” 

Just the loudest noise Buck had ever heard. It woke him up with a feeling of abject terror. It was an explosion that didn’t echo. It just rang, clear and true through his eardrums like the end of the world. Even as he struggled out of his sheets, searching for the source so he could run from it, part of him knew it wasn’t a sound that left any physical evidence. What could it even be? A sound like that? An old fashioned safe dropping from two stories up? A car crash without the crunch? Just a high speed collision of two immovable objects, all of the equal and opposite reaction of their momentum forced to escape as sound. 

Once his heart rate had slowed, he googled. He wasn’t initially sure what to google. “Ridiculously loud noise woke me up” seemed at once too vague and too specific but sure enough. Exploding Head Syndrome. It was what happened. Obviously. But Buck remained too full of adrenaline to sleep. As he sat up in bed, he couldn’t shake the urge to look around. Under the bed, in the closet, behind the shower curtain. He didn’t feel alone. 

“I’m just glad it’s happening in your head instead of mine,” Chim laughs. “Maybe try putting some earmuffs on before you go to sleep tonight.” ***

The sound doesn’t reappear. Buck is relieved, but sleeping doesn’t get any easier. He tries to soothe himself with obscenely long hot baths, by ordering a hoodie that’s more fluff than fabric, by running a foam roller across his muscles, trying to pry them into relaxation. It’s so much work and it does so little. Buck’s entire body is screaming out at all times for a hug or a massage or even just a really fucking good haircut. It takes longer and longer to fall asleep and the little sleep he does get isn’t restful. It’s like whatever meager comfort he manages to give himself during the day is leached away in the night. 

He doesn’t even notice the bruises at first. It’s an easy enough thing to miss. Their job is heavy physical labor and Buck barrels through a scene like a one man stampede. Bruises are as common as the smell of smoke in his hair. The ones Eddie points out on his arm though are different. 

Buck’s carrying a kitten at the time. The fire they’ve been fighting is beaten back to smolders. Buck shucked off his coat, wet and dripping from the hose and too cold for the shaking animal, and grabbed a blanket from the ambulance to wrap her up and cradle her against his chest. He’s rubbing his face against her damp fur, feeling the softness like a concentrated shot of endorphins when Eddie asks, “What the hell happened to you?”

“What are you talking about?” Buck asks and Eddie’s hands are pushing up the sleeves of his shirt, rolling them up to his shoulders while Buck’s trying to hold onto the cat.

“You don’t feel that?”

“Feel what?” He’s maybe a little ruder than he means to be but the sleep deprivation makes him cranky and the touch deprivation means that Eddie’s gently probing fingers feel like a dream on his skin. The care in the brush of his hands makes Buck’s knees weak. 

“Your arms are bruised to hell,” Eddie says. “Are you- Did someone grab you or something?”

“I swear to god, Eddie. I don’t feel anything.” Except grumpy and exhausted and longing. 

“Jesus, it goes all the way up your shoulders. It looks like-” He stops, pulling Buck’s collar aside and tracing a small spot that Buck can’t see even if he turns his head. “They look like fingerprints, Buck. Are you seeing someone?” 

“What!”

“These are handprints. And they’re dark. Do you really not-”

Buck wrenches himself from Eddie’s grasp so he can turn around and look at him because if Eddie’s really accusing him of putting everyone at risk by trying to date someone right now… But Eddie’s face is nothing but concerned. Which makes Buck scared. 

“Is it really that bad?” he asks, clutching the cat to his chest. 

Eddie rubs a hand up Buck’s back (it feels so good, hot like Buck’s t-shirt isn’t even between them and is it just because it’s been so long or just because it’s Eddie?) without looking around to see if Bobby’s watching and that’s really all the confirmation Buck needs. It’s bad. 

***

After that, Buck starts to feel them. He wakes up and he can’t breathe. He wakes up and he can’t move. He wakes up on the floor. He spends every moment that he’s asleep fighting to wake up. Buck can only remember fragments and pieces of the torment but he knows that it feels like drowning. Like being held down. Like being grabbed and pulled and smothered. He thinks he remembers long dark hair. 

Google is useless. Sleep apnea. Sleep paralysis. Sleep terrors. Even sleepwalking. None of them can account for the worst of it. For the physical signs of whatever is happening to him while he sleeps.

Bruises bloom blue on the pale skin of his hips. Purple on his ribs. Green on the back of his neck. The ones that Eddie saw first on his arm fade to yellow.  A long scratch runs down the side of his face. Dark circles under his eyes grow darker every day. 

“What’s happening to me?” he asks his reflection.

All he wants is to be able to ask that question with someone’s arms around him. He wants anyone to hold him tight and shush his fears and tell him that it’ll be okay. 

It’s easier than he thought to hide it. Buck just chooses his shower times strategically and opts for a long sleeve uniform, complaining that he ruined his short sleeves ones by grabbing bleach instead of detergent while he was half asleep. 

He’s always half asleep these days.

At least in the bunk rooms, he gets some semblance of rest. Whatever presence he feels in his own bedroom doesn’t cross this threshold and Buck sleeps deeply, almost missing the scream of the alarm. 

“It’s getting worse isn’t it?” Eddie asks, cornering Buck in the locker room. Buck can’t help but nod and Eddie steps closer as if to touch him. 

Buck flinches away and Eddie pulls up short as though hitting an invisible wall. 

He breathes Buck’s name on a pained exhale and says, “You have to get some help. Whatever it is…”

“I don’t know what it is!’ Buck answers. “It’s living in my house and it- it- God. Maybe I need an exorcism.”

“Maybe you should come home with me,” Eddie suggests and Buck recoils again. 

The firehouse seems safe but there’s no guarantee that Buck won’t be followed anywhere else. He’s desperate to be safe--desperate for Eddie to make him safe--but not at the expense of anyone else. Not when he doesn’t know what he’s facing. 

“Okay,” Eddie says. “But call me in the morning.” 

***

The burned girl screams louder when she sees Buck than she did while they were putting out the inferno of her car. 

“Stay away from me!” She shrieks. “Stay awaystayawaystayaway.”

“Miss, we’re going to need you to calm down,” Hen says to her. “Buck, you wanna move aside? Like preferably somewhere she can’t see you?”

Buck does because the patient’s well-being is more important than anything, but his skin feels like ice. He wants to demand to know what else she sees when she looks at him. Wants to know how she knows. For half a second, he imagines following her to the hospital and waiting for her outside the glass doors.  

They aren’t far from her house (52% of accidents happen within five miles of home) and the girl’s father arrives on the scene before they finish prepping her to be transported. And he sees Buck. 

He freezes when he does, but at least he doesn’t scream. He ignores Buck completely, instead going to the ambulance where his daughter is still crying and trying to soothe her. Hen offers to let him ride in the ambulance, but he says that he’ll take his car. 

“You’re in a lot of trouble,” he says, returning to Buck as the ambulance pulls away. “What you summoned… That’s not a normal ghost.”

“I didn’t summon anything! It just happened.” Buck’s voice is high-pitched and he just barely stops himself from grabbing onto the man’s arm, but the man doesn’t seem afraid of Buck the way his daughter was. “What is it? How do I make it go away?”

The man shrugs, “She came in through an open door. Which door depends on the person. But she’ll do everything in her power to keep it pried open. All you can do is try to close it again.”

It is… the least helpful advice Buck’s ever been given in his entire life. But the man’s daughter is on her way to the hospital and he needs to follow her. He vanishes. 

***

They’re about to have four days off. Buck’s bracing himself to meet the woman in his dreams. To look around in that dreamspace for open doors and slam them shut again. He can do it. He has to. 

***

The next night Buck wakes up and he can’t move. He’s paralyzed on the bed. He’s paralyzed on the bed and someone’s standing at the top of his stairs. 

She’s not… right. Buck can’t quite see in the dark and he can’t lift his head but the woman on his stairs isn’t solid in the way a human should be. The outline of her is strong, but it’s like she’s a shell wrapped around a cavernous emptiness. She’s across the room but she’s already pulling at him. 

Buck tries to thrash but his arms are pinned as if her hands are already on his wrists. He needs to reach the lamp. If he can just turn on the light.

“Get away from me,” he pleads and the part of her face where lips should be turns up, revealing pointed teeth that stand in front of a void.

“You called me,” she says. The words don’t come from her mouth and Buck doesn’t hear them with his ears. It’s wrong wrong wrong. He throws himself hard to the left and he rolls, flying further than he expected to, suddenly free, and crashes hard into the table, knocking the lamp to the floor. It shatters, bulb and all and pain scrapes across Buck’s shoulders.

“Poor boy,” the ghost mocks. “Poor lonely boy. Just wants someone to touch him. Just wants someone to stay with him. I heard you.”

“No,” Buck says and he tries to scramble, but his feet can’t find purchase on the floor. “I didn’t want you.”

He doesn’t deny the call. Can’t deny it when his heart is reaching out in the same pleading, desperate way now. Please. Anyone.

In the time it takes to blink she’s in front of him. She’s so close. She shouldn’t be able to get that close without standing on him but she’s there. Her voice whispers in his mind, “You should choose your words more carefully.”

And then her hands are around his throat.

The pressure is insistent and her motive is unmistakable. She’s going to kill him. She’s going to squeeze the life out of him. He’s going to die here and Eddie’s going to find his body because Eddie’s going to come rushing over as soon as Buck doesn’t call him in the morning and what if this thing is still here waiting for him. 

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Buck’s mind yells for him like his lungs did when Eddie was buried except now it’s Buck who’s too far away, who’s trapped somewhere deep and dark with no hope of escape. 

He tries to breathe and his breath whistles. It’s like the first time someone handed him a styrofoam cup of coffee and he tried to drink through the plastic stir stick. Black stars twinkle in the room and tears build in his eyes. 

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. 

There’s a shift as she adjusts her grip and it’s enough for the stars to clear. Buck throws himself forward, shaking his head like he isn’t a ragdoll trapped in the jaws of a rottweiler, like he has a hope of breaking free and then he does. The ghost is thrown off balance and Buck jumps, scrambling back over his bed for the stairs. He can’t even think about defeating her, finding out the secrets of where she came from, closing whatever fucking door he left open. All Buck wants to do is live. 

A force behind him swells like a wave to lift Buck off his feet and slams him into the bathroom door. He expects to slide off of it and onto the floor, but he’s held in place hard, his head turned and his cheek pressed to the wood, toes just brushing the ground. 

“You begged me to come,” the ghost hisses. “I’m here for you, lonely boy. Don’t fight so hard.”

A hand skims up his back, nearly gentle, but leaving a numbness in its path and Buck shudders in disgust. He jerks against the door, but his arms are wrenched behind him and he screams. He realizes it’s the first time he has.

“I didn’t call you! I don’t want you here! Get out.”

“I came because you needed me.” A long finger trails down his cheek and Buck whimpers. She’s taller than him now. Was she always? “I could feel you from so far away. An aching ball of need. I’m here for you now.” 

“I don’t need you,” Buck growls and the room flashes like lightning. He hopes to fall, almost expects to fall, where he can scramble again but instead, Buck is hurled away from the door completely. He has time to see that he’s above the stairs, throw his hands out uselessly and then he’s frozen. 

Buck hovers there in the air above the stairs, dangling in the grip of the ghost, like a cat grabbed by his scruff. Kicking wildly, he grabs for the invisible hand that’s holding him, yelling “No, no, no, no.”

“Need me now?” the ghost asks. 

Smothering the terrified part of him that nearly answers yes, Buck forces himself to stop twisting and just hang there. He doesn’t want to fall. He doesn’t want to die. But what he needs isn’t going to come from the ghost. 

“No,” he answers. 

And he can’t explain how he knows what her face looks like when it’s screwed up in fury, but he does. It’s vicious and vindictive and Buck’s not surprised at all when he’s flicked away from her and down the flight of stairs. 

He seems to hit each one as he falls, something that should be impossible with the speed that he’s traveling and the force with which he bounces off of them, but the ghost is obviously responsible. Air leaves his lungs as his ribs crack against the stairs. His elbows and knees scrape. His head bangs the rail. Buck’s long, long legs seem to tangle as he falls, cartwheeling him down and he lands in a heap at the bottom. 

As he tries to figure out if he can still move, the door flies open. 

Warmth rushes in. Buck hadn’t even realized how cold it had gotten since he first woke up, but the room seems to thaw around him. It’s like sunlight. 

It’s Eddie. 

“Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Evan. Buck. I’ve got you, Buck. I’ve got you.” 

Tenderly, he scoops Buck off the floor, unsnarling the mess of his limbs and feeling all over for the damage he can’t see. “I’ve got you. Open your eyes. Come on.” 

The ghost stands at the top of the stairs and then she’s at the bottom. Buck clambers backward again, digging his heels into the floor to push himself upright in front of Eddie, to try and hide him from view. Eddie doesn’t seem to see the ghost. All of his attention is still on Buck, stroking his hair, promising over and over that he’s there, that he has Buck. 

All of the ghost’s attention is on Buck too. “You need me,” she says. “You called for me.” She sounds different now. Bitter. Like Buck wasted her precious time. 

“I don’t need you,” he says and he reaches behind him to grab Eddie’s hand. “I already have everything I need.” 

Lights flicker and that impossibly loud sound bangs in Buck’s ears again. He gets one last look at the ghost’s vicious, violent visage and then she’s gone. 

And then Buck wakes up.

[fellulahh]

Random relationship headcanons (all characters!) - F!MC

I’ve done HCs like these before but not for all of the characters - I thought I’d do an updated version with everybody☺️

Lucifer:

Lucifer effectively never refers to MC by her name ever again, he either calls her ‘my love’ or ‘my dear’

He sets Friday nights aside to take MC out for dinner no matter how much paperwork he has left at the end of the week

Lucifer always unconsciously makes MC a cup of coffee in the morning when he’s getting his

He’s not the sort to hold MC’s hand while at RAD, but when they walk together he does subtly place his hand on her lower back

Often their more intimate moments involve laying in front of the fireplace together, sipping glasses of wine as they discuss and joke over their day

Lucifer helps MC with her every goal and when she succeeds, he is always the first to congratulate her. After all, having MC as his partner is what he is most proud of

If he catches MC sassing one of the brothers, he’ll smirk and boast “That’s my girl.”

Sometimes if he’s feeling stressed, he’ll ask MC if she’ll keep him company by sitting in his lap while he works

Mammon:

He’s an absolute sucker for MC calling him ‘babe’ and tells her off if she refers to him as anything else

Mammon’s 100% the little spoon (but don’t you dare ever tell anybody else that)

Expect random booty slaps throughout the day whenever Mammon is near

He loves showing off MC - if they’re at RAD together, he’ll always have his arm around her; nonchalantly planting kisses on her head every now and again when they’re talking to someone

Mammon tells his brothers off if he thinks they’re spending too much time with his human

“What are you doin’ over there?! Come give me some sugar!” He pouts at least 20 times a day

Mammon never grows tired of seeing MC’s body. Every time she undresses for bed, he gawps at her - practically drooling - just like it’s the first time he’s ever seen her

He often randomly buys MC cards and will write little notes inside with his scrawny handwriting simply stating how much he loves and appreciates her (he’s very soft when it comes to MC)

Levi:

If MC is doing something that Levi deems as ‘adorable’, he will immediately pull out his D.D.D and photograph/film her so if he’s ever feeling down he can go through his album and just gaze at her in awe

When he’s talking to Henry 2.0, he refers to MC as the fish’s ‘mum’ and him as ‘dad’ (but don’t tell MC that he ever said that)

He loves to show off that MC is his girlfriend whenever he’s gaming. If he gets insulted over his headset, he’ll reply with ‘yeah? Well I have a girlfriend who’s super hot! Beat that!’

Movie marathons are a must

Levi loves taking MC to the beach and having her straddle him while he wades through the sea (a bit like Baloo and Mowgli)

When he’s gaming, Levi lets MC style his hair. Considering how long it is, the human is very intrigued by what it’d look like pushed back

He gets incredibly excited if MC gets dressed up for something and practically implodes: “that’s my girlfriend!!”

Satan:

Satan is 100% husband material. MC needs help studying? He’s there. MC needs help with cooking dinner? He’s there. MC is feeling stressed and wants a massage? He’s already offered before she can ask.

He’s quite a tease too and will wait until the worst time to show this side of him. MC and Satan could be at the palace having a really formal dinner when he will start whispering in MC’s ear, telling her all of things he’d love to do to her later that evening

MC’s name is now ‘darling’

Satan’s favourite part of the day is when he and MC are sat in bed each night, both reading a book

He loves to hold MC in his arms with her head on his chest whenever they fall asleep

He always makes the bed while MC’s in the bathroom so she doesn’t have to

When he’s on dinner duty, Satan purposefully cooks his and MC’s dinner first so that they can have it alone with a candle lit

Asmo:

Refers to MC as ‘sweetie’

He’s always surprising MC with little gifts - if he’s out shopping and sees something he thinks she’d like he immediately buys it

He helps relieve MC of any stress - if he senses she’s had a bad day he’ll pull out the nail varnish and give her a full on pamper while she moans about whatever is bothering her

His Devilgram is full of candid photos of MC

You can bet he’s super affectionate toward MC - there will never be a day that goes past where she doesnt wake up with a kiss from him

They’re the fiercest couple at RAD - they’re effectively the Devildom equivalent to Posh and Becks

They also go on really cute dates, whether it be little mini breaks, a simple coffee date at a nearby cafe, a day at the beach or beauty salon etc

Beel:

Movie nights with everybody always consist of MC falling asleep in Beel’s lap and then him carrying her up to bed

He’s always calling MC ‘cute’ no matter what she’s doing. She could be having a full on go at him for eating her dinner and he’d just smile at her while thinking ‘could she be anymore adorable?’

Lots and lots of piggy backs

Beel loves hugging MC, he always does that thing where he wraps his jacket around her so he trap the human with his love

Always invites MC to his sports game and whenever she goes, he manages to perform that little bit better to usual

He always offers MC his jacket if she ever gets cold

Everyone dubs them the ‘cutest couple at RAD’ because they’re always holding hands and have the biggest smiles on their faces whenever they’re together

Often they spend their evenings in the kitchen cooking/baking which results in a food fight and eventually sex on the kitchen counter

MC always wears Beel’s top to bed and it makes him so happy to see her in it

Belphie:

He gives MC all of the comfy pillows in their bed - after all he doesn’t need them anymore because his favourite thing to fall asleep on is his human

He’s always coming to MC’s defence. If a lesser demon ever does so much as scowl at her, he immediately puts himself between the two. Nobody is ever going to hurt his human

Belphie wants to learn everything about MC including the things she likes. And if that means he has to sit through hours and hours of a TV show to do that then he’ll commit to it!

He’s always genuinely interested in how MC’s day went and whenever they reunite at the house, he always asks how she is and will listen for however long to what she has to say

He hides food in the fridge for MC “I bought this cake earlier and have hidden it from Beel so that you could have the first slice”

Belphie always wants cuddles from MC - he has to have his head on her chest

He’s also not ashamed of how much he likes to snuggle his human, even if his brothers do tease him for it

Diavolo:

Diavolo is always going above and beyond for MC and acts like she’s already his Queen

He loves taking her on little walks around the castle grounds; telling her all about his ancestors

If Diavolo has to get up early for whatever reason and leave the palace, he’ll always leave a single rose on the bedside table next to MC so she doesn’t wake up feeling forgotten about

He puts MC before his duty - if any nobles ever dare speak ill of his relationship, he immediately dismisses them from their role

Always compliments MC, expressing how ‘positively radiant’ she looks with a huge grin on his face

He loves making MC wear his crown and sit on his throne, in fact he finds it quite the turn on seeing her in a position of power (that’s not the only position he likes seeing her in)

His favourite part of the day is when he gets to return home and see MC in her element doing whatever (studying, drawing etc) looking like the absolute beauty she is

Diavolo always accidentally lets it slip that he wants to have a future with MC - they’d just be talking about something random and then he’d come out with “well I like to think that when our children grow up...” before quickly blushing, realising what he’d said

Barbatos:

He invites MC to the castle a lot to keep him company when he’s serving Diavolo

He’s always surprising MC and leaving her feeling flustered - he could have a completely serious look on his face while he’s doing something for Diavolo but will then turn and whisper to MC “perhaps when I finish this paperwork, I can do you on this desk too” before walking away

Barbatos is always showing off to MC by taking her to different realms and dimensions. Having dinner at a fancy restaurant is too mainstream for him - you want to see France during the Renaissance? Sure, he’ll take you there!

He takes good care of MC and will often sense something is off with her before she even knows. This demon has a different tea for everything

Barbatos loves cooking all of these elaborate dishes only for MC to try and you can bet he’s already memorised all of her favourite meals from the human realm and has perfected them

In fact, some of the very rare moments where he grins is when he and MC are baking together

Even if he’s the one who’s had an incredibly long day, he’ll still run a relaxing bath for MC with candles and salts

Simeon:

Even if MC wakes up and looks like she’s been dragged through a bush backwards, Simeon never fails to compliment her surreal beauty

He calls MC ‘sweetheart’ all the time

Simeon always gets up early so that he can make MC breakfast in bed as it’s the most important meal of the day!

They always bath together

He and MC often go for walks in the park and will bring Luke along if he’s feeling lonely and wants to spend time with his parents

Simeon is incredibly intimate and passionate in their relationship. There’s no such thing as a ‘casual’ kiss with this angel - he never fails to caress MC’s cheek and gaze into her eyes before laying one on her

He always offers to carry MC’s bags while they’re walking through RAD and will effectively treat her like a goddess - opening every door for her, pulling out her chair etc

Simeon’s always gushing to Lucifer about his relationship with MC

Solomon:

MC and Solomon are such a chaotic couple

To show his love for her, he will quote vines (*insert ‘I love you bitch, I ain’t ever gonna stop loving you, bitch’ vine here*)

He is not afraid to show off his love for MC. She could be walking through the corridor at RAD and when he spots her, Solomon will shout ‘DAYUM MY GIRL IS FINE’

Solomon is always making MC laugh. He’s not one for being traditional when it comes to compliments - he’d definitely hit her up with “I would drag my balls through lava just to hear you fart down a walkie talkie”

He’s quite a show off too - the demons are all jealous that MC loves him and not them so he always gushes about his human

If he ever takes an unflattering photo of MC, he immediately turns her into a meme much to his amusement

Although he jokes a lot and isn’t always serious, when they’re alone together, Solomon is incredibly loving and would easily be happy to just sit there and stare at MC in silence for ten minutes so that he can take a moment to appreciate how lucky he is

[aotwaifu]

I thought of this so credit to me or maybe subconsciously to someone that thought it and airdropped it into my head lol.

SnK Character x Reader Headcanons — REACTION TO HUNGOVER EDITION.

Levi’s Reaction:

S/O would definitely be getting up in like the early afternoon, bed hair and half lidded eyes.

Levi watches as they exit the bedroom to go to the bathroom in a zombie like stance. Occasionally hits the side of the wall followed with his s/o mumbled cursing.

S/o is for sure half naked or just has a baggy shirt on covering half of their butt. Levi mentally notes it’s because his s/o was so drunk that they “felt so hot” and slept on him half naked.

Also mentally notes to next time brush their hair before bed because he can see leaves idly relaxing in his s/o hair that is beginning to irritate him.

S/o just stands in front of Levi who’s at his desk. Levi looks at them expecting for them to say something.

A disgruntled groan comes out before his s/o goes back into bed without saying anything else.

Meaning: “I know it’s late and I slept in late and I came home late but I love you and I’m sorry for any inconvience I caused you last night”.

Levi understood this.

Probably replies with his tongue clicking.

Levi leaves a cup of tea and water by the bedside.

Pats their head when his s/o is completely knocked out.

Eren’s Reaction:

That man definitely got drunk with his s/o. His and his s/o’s legs are all sprawled out in different directions on the bed they slept on together.

Butt naked from the sloppy naked sex.

Is rolled into his side whilst throwing up into a bucket by the bed.

“You look like crap”

“You look like crap”

Probably both go to the bathroom at the same time. His s/o is at the toliet trying to pee and Eren’s head halfway out the bathroom window throwing up last night.

His dick’s probably hanging out and about but he’s too hungover to even care.

“Eren your dick’s in my face”

Eren mumbles an apology swinging around shoving his ass cheeks into his s/o’s face whilst still hanging halfway out the window.

“Never taking shots with you again”

“Amen.”

Definitely calls Mikasa over to take care of you both.

Eren tries to grab a body part and his s/o instantly tell him to go take a shower, compliant he does but eventually his s/o joins him.

Half asleep throughout the day.

Armin’s Reaction:

Baby boy thinks his s/o is dead. Panics when they don’t respond quickly to his answers.

“(Y-Y/n) can you hear me?!”

“Yes Armin. Loud and clear. Exactly what I don’t want”

Is relieved instantly when he knows his s/o’s sass is still alive.

Reads up on best remedies for hangovers. Tries cooking the best hangover breakfast/lunch for his s/o.

His s/o finally rolls out of bed and Armin is delighted to serve them food that he made.

Whilst eating, Armin tries to smooth his s/o’s bedhair. He’s so fixated on removing a twig out of their hair he forgets that there’s a literal twig in their hair.

“How did you get.. a twig in your hair ?”

“Look all I remember is the martini and that’s it”

Armin massages and tries to dress his s/o. Probably turning scarlet red the entire time.

S/o smirks, sending a challenging smile.

“Even when I’m hungover I still can get you all flustered”

“Well that’s not what you were moaning last night”

S/o probably is giving him sloppy kisses and saying how lucky they are to have him.

Armin goes scarlet red again.

Mikasa Reaction:

Somehow she has already sobered up before the crack of dawn. Most likely went out for a stroll then came back to her s/o still in bed.

Her s/o definitely is being held whilst throwing up in a toliet bowl.

Mikasa’s patting their back and holding strands of their hair back.

“I’m never drinking again” they would sob.

Mikasa nods understandingly and both proceed to go into the positions before.

S/o doesn’t remember much of last night. They’re sitting at the table eating and S/o blurts out what had happen.

Mikasa bluntly says, “you stripped naked saying you want to make love to me in the early hours of the morning”.

S/o goes all red and clamers up with embarrassment and shame. Before they could muster up an apology Mikasa continues,

“You did make good love to me”.

Sending a soft smile to a now embarrassed s/o who has their head in their hands.

Definitely makes everything a little easier for her s/o . E.g. does most of the house chores, cooks for them and folds the bed covers.

Erwin’s Reaction:

Mans was the one that picked up his s/o from the bar. Half asleep and covered in sparkles.?

Doesn’t question it as all his s/o is slurring is “I love you’s” and “So much muscle, baby likes”.

Tucks them into bed.

His s/o is sleeping in all odd positions throughout the night making it harder for him to fall asleep so he gets up and sleeps on the couch in his study room.

Wakes up to his s/o half hanging off the same couch, nestled in between his big frame of body.

Sighs because he realised he could of slept in the bed just fine.

His s/o is throwing their food up and he’s conflicted with trying to soothe them and trying to set space between them (not because they’re gross but he understands being hungover is never fun).

His s/o would crack jokes about having his babies and saying stuff like, “better hope this is a hangover with all this throwing up. Or else we got bigger problems!”

Erwin sighs but on the inside he’s probably screaming.

Cleans their face and offers to run a bath for them.

Would periodically check though if his s/o hasn’t drowned in the bath from dozing off.

\\\

I’m gonna be real if I included Hanji or Jean, I see them just egging their s/o to drink more throughout the night and then getting their ass beat by them for encouraging “such bad behaviour” in the morning hehe.

I also forgot about Sasha and Connie but let’s be real. Those two would definitely be drunk passed out in a bush somewhere-

///

[ibelongtowrath]

Hot Springs - Lucifer x Reader

Warnings // 18+/NSFW, praise in the form of “good girl,” oral sex, female reader Word count: 2.6k

Happy hot springs theme day 💦 Here’s another Lucifer piece about getting eaten out at the hot springs because horny writing brain go brrrr. I hope you enjoy. I am also terrible at coming up with titles

I can’t sleep.

You groan inwardly and sigh, turning your body to stare at the ceiling, your eyes practically glazing over. To your left, Mammon snores loudly; a sound akin to a chainsaw, and something you didn’t even think he was capable of.

“Ya gotta sleep next to me, MC! If any of my brothers even try to touch a hair on your head, I’ll kill ‘em.”

“Fine, fine,” you agreed hurriedly, already pulling the blanket over your head, gripped with exhaustion. “Goodnight, Mammon.”

I should have brought fucking ear plugs.

You roll over to your right side, where Levi sleeps peacefully, clutching his Ruri-chan body pillow close to his chest. You’re pretty sure you can hear him mumbling her name every so often, and your eyes squeeze shut in frustration, knowing that the likelihood of actually achieving a deep, restful sleep is growing lower by the second as you inhale deeply.

With a groan, you rise, feet padding softly across the smooth, wooden floor. Perhaps a soak in the onsen would make you drowsy and relaxed enough to actually be able to sleep through all the surrounding noise. Grabbing a towel and pausing briefly before leaving the room, you look down at yourself. A minuscule, though beautifully ornate silk robe barely covers your naked body; although it was customary to enter the hot spring completely nude, you couldn’t help but feel extremely self-conscious. Thankfully, Diavolo had rented out the entire place for the night, so no other beings were there, save for the demon brothers.

And, thankfully, everyone else was still asleep. As much as you love the demon brothers, sometimes it felt amazing to have a few waking moments to yourself, and the idea of spending that alone time in a steamy, relaxing hot spring? Bliss.

Carefully opening the sliding doors leading to the spring, careful to not wake anyone, you step out into the onsen. Steam rises steadily from the hot water, caressing your face as a slight breeze carries wisps of it towards you. The tension already begins to loosen from your neck and shoulders, taking in the sights of the artfully-placed rocks and trees around you. Slowly, you walk towards the stone steps leading into the water and dip your feet in, testing the temperature. Perfect.

You look back over your shoulder for a brief moment before you begin to untie your robe and open the front. Despite the warmth radiating from the water, a shiver passes through your body at the sudden exposure to the still slightly cool night air. You shrug the robe the rest of the way off, folding it carefully and setting it on a nearby bench, along with the towel.

Knowing it is customary to be clean before entering the spring, you wash off at the bathing station situated near the sliding doors, careful to remove any traces of soap before finally stepping into the hot spring. A deep, satisfied sigh escapes you as your body submerges beneath the warm, tranquil waters. Steam rises up towards you and your eyes close as you sit, tipping your head back to rest against the side of the spring. Your face turns up to the perpetually night sky of the Devildom, the light of the moon illuminating everything around you in an almost ethereal glow; stars, scattered across the sky, glitter like moon dust, looking almost as if they’re sparkling.

“Are my brothers causing mischief, my dear MC?”

The voice rings out, disturbing your fleeting serenity as you startle with a gasp. Your eyes open quickly and you look around in a panic for the source of the mysterious voice before your gaze settles on the demon standing at the edge of the spring, wrapped in a short, blue robe.

“L-Lucifer?” you manage to gasp in surprise. “I thought you were asleep. What are you-”

“I should be asking you the same question, my dear. Shouldn’t you be getting some rest?” Lucifer retorts. He can sense your shock, and he smirks inwardly, keeping his expression neutral.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you mumble. “Mammon snores like a chainsaw, Levi was having dreams about doing who knows what to his body pillow, and I just...wanted to relax…”

“An excellent place you’ve chosen to come to do so, then. Although we are in the Devildom, Lord Diavolo had to have an onsen of our own developed after experiencing a traditional one in your world, in Japan. The waters here are not geothermal as they naturally are in Japanese onsens; however, magic can replace virtually anything we are unable to replicate. The effects are still much the same, as evidenced by your relaxed state before I, unfortunately, disturbed you.”

The smirk tugs Lucifer’s lips upwards, though he quickly replaces it with a chuckle and a cordial smile, his eyes closing briefly before they open again, setting his intense crimson gaze upon you. Realizing you are fully naked beneath the steaming water, the blood rushing to your face and making the temperature of the water seem almost chilly in comparison to the heat in your cheeks. Thankfully, the water is opaque, masking your nudity, though you can’t help but squeeze your legs together and crossing your arms over your chest in a feeble attempt to mask the fact.

Lucifer chuckles softly once more, moving to loosen the strings of his robe.

“Would you mind if I join you, MC? It seems I am in need of some relaxation as well,” he asks, his voice a low timbre, as though teasing in its slight lilt. “Though it is not customary for men and women to bathe together in Japanese hot springs, we do not typically adhere to that rule here. Of course, I will respect your wishes if you decline and wish to bathe privately.”

“N-no, it’s fine,” you stutter in response. “Feel free.”

“As you wish, then.”

Your eyes widen, gaze transfixed as Lucifer finally loosens the knot holding his robe together in the front. The silken, azure fabric hangs loosely on either side, and the prideful demon smirks once more, noting your enraptured attention. Teasingly, he slides the robe off his well-defined shoulders, pausing to tilt his head and flash you a knowing smile.

“Enjoying the view?” he purrs.

With a loud cough and a swallow, you turn your head to gaze directly in front of you, studying the intricate shrubbery and not dignify his remark with a response. 

Don’t look, don’t you dare look. 

The heat rushes back to your cheeks and you force yourself to tilt your head back, only relaxing when you hear Lucifer step into the spring. Bringing your head back forward, you see him seated across from you in the steaming waters, a wolfish grin on your face.

“I should come here more often,” Lucifer remarks casually. “It is absolutely lovely not to have someone getting into trouble and disturbing my peace and quiet.”

He’s naked under the water. Naked. I wonder what he- 

You feel your body tense at the intrusive thought and are unable to stop yourself from groaning softly, clapping a hand over your mouth as you realize you’ve completely given yourself away. Lucifer’s grin deepens, and he leans forward as those beautiful, deep garnet eyes bore into yours.

“You look a bit tense there, my dear,” he coos. “I can offer a shoulder massage if you’d like.”

“Oh, u-um… that would be nice,” you admit.

“Come a bit closer then, my dear. I may be a strong demon, but even I cannot stretch my body that far,” he teases.

Nodding slowly, you rise ever so slightly, keeping your arms tightly crossed in front of your chest and careful not to expose any more of your body from beneath the opaque water. Up close, you realize Lucifer is even more handsome, and you can feel your heart pounding beneath your rib cage, thump, thump, thump. You turn around, back facing him, grateful for the sounds of the small stream of water flowing steadily in a fountain by the spring masking the sound of your heartbeat, loud enough that surely he would be able to hear.

He brings his hands to your shoulders, moving closer. At the touch of his hands and the feel of his proximity, you start. Chuckling, Lucifer begins to knead the tense muscles with careful motions, using his thumbs to work out the tight knots he can feel beneath your skin.

“Uncross your arms for me, my dear,” he instructs. “You are carrying so much tension, and I cannot help you properly when you are not relaxed.”

With a sigh, you drop your arms to your sides, resting them in your lap. Lucifer’s touch is relaxing, satisfying, and you can feel the tension begin to melt from your shoulders as he continues to work the tender muscles. Blissfully, your head drops back, hair fanning out in the water as a soft groan, almost like a moan falls from your lips. The demon smirks as he continues his ministrations, moving even closer to you, though you barely notice the heat of his body nearly right against yours, your eyes closed in peaceful relaxation.

“That’s a good girl, stay just like that…,” he instructs.

Lucifer’s praise causes your heart to race even faster, your eyes opening as you feel your thighs pressing together. He notes your reaction, leaning forward to press a soft kiss into the delicate skin at the junction of your neck and shoulder. You shudder in pleasure, letting out a definite moan this time, finding yourself leaning back against him, your back nearly pressed to his chest. Grinning against your skin, he nibbles gently at first before biting down a bit firmer, his hands continuing their work on your shoulders.

“Such a good girl…”

Lucifer’s hands move from your shoulders to trace a path down the generous curve of your waist, his mouth finding purchase on your now relaxed shoulder as he presses another kiss there. One hand reaches up to thread his fingers into your hair lightly, tugging your head to the side before crashing his lips against yours in a feverish kiss, much like the water and the skin of your bodies. The kiss is deep, intimate; it speaks a thousand words full of want, of need, of dark desire without a single utterance. Your tongues dance with one another as soft gasps of pleasant surprise and arousal escape you and him, your thighs squeezing together under the water, now wet in more ways than simply being submerged beneath it.

Biting your lip and pulling away from the kiss, Lucifer’s hand moves to your bare breast, groping it lightly before rolling your nipple between his thumb and index finger, savoring your sweet moans. His cock twitches, already hard and pressing against your back. Grinning, he tugs at your hair again, tilting your head back until you look up at him; eyes half-lidded, nearly glazed over and blown-out with lust.

“Naughty, naughty girl,” Lucifer teases. “I offer you a relaxing massage, and you turn it into anything but. I suppose I’ll have to find another way to ease the tension in your body. Especially-”

He pauses, moving his hands to caress the soft, fleshy skin of your inner thighs, briefly teasing a few fingers between your legs before pulling them away, relishing your lewd gasps.

“-right here. Yes, it seems you are very much still tense. My, my, we certainly will have to remedy that, won’t we, my naughty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you whimper, pressing your back harder against him. 

Suddenly, you are teeming with need, nearly keening at the thought of having Lucifer between your legs. In one swift movement, he picks you up, quickly turning you around to lift you out of the water and set you on the side of the hot spring. Feeling the sudden difference in temperature, you shudder. Droplets of water glisten in the shining moonlight as they travel down your body. He grins at your shudder as he begins laying you back gently and spreading your legs, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh before biting down into the skin, pausing briefly to admire the indentation of his teeth that will surely welt and leave a mark behind later.

“Don’t worry, pet. I’ll be sure to warm you up,” Lucifer says, biting down once more. “Now, lay back and relax for me.”

Obeying his command, you lay your back flat against the cool stone, your heart continuing to thump like someone is revving an engine. Lucifer teases a few fingers between your legs, his thumb circling your swollen clit, eliciting a loud, lewd cry as he does so. Pressing a kiss to your pelvic bone, he gently sucks the skin into his mouth and biting into the skin there, intent on leaving more marks. He moves to the other side, repeating his actions before lowering himself down between your legs to your wet, dripping core, practically quivering in anticipation. He smiles before his tongue darts out, licking a stripe up your core until he reaches your clit, swirling it tantalizingly slow around the sensitive bundle of nerves. Lucifer’s lips close around it, sucking. Your back arches, reaching your hands forward to weave your fingers into his hair. Bucking your hips against his face, he smirks, moaning into your skin and continuing to suck on your clit, alternating between stimulating it with his tongue and lightly grazing his teeth across it.

“Good girl, so good for me,” Lucifer moans. “You taste so fucking sweet, pet.”

Sliding two fingers inside you, he curls and pumps them skillfully to press against your sweet spot. A louder, more high-pitched moan falls from your lips, taking his name with it as it echoes across the otherwise serene tranquility of the onsen.

“L-Lucifer- ah, it feels so good-”

Frantic with desire, you begin to roll your hips rhythmically towards his face, increasing the pressure of his tongue and fingers. Lucifer slides a third finger into you, desperately savoring the delicious sounds of your desperation as he, too, can’t stop himself from moaning into your skin. He laps at your sweet essence, eager to taste all of you, to wet his cock between your tight, warm walls and help ease his own tension between his hips, a fire stirring in his belly.

“Lucifer!” Crying out his name in a wanton gasp, you begin to feel yourself tighten around his fingers. “Lucifer, I-I’m going to cum-”

“Good girl,” Lucifer groans. “Cum hard for me, princess.”

His praise pushes you over the edge, immense pleasure washing over your body in waves as you writhe against the stone, arching your back. Your body jerks forward, slightly, and your lips part to scream in pleasure, his name falling from your lips over and over, growing in volume and pitch with every syllable. Grinning, Lucifer slowly slides his fingers out of you, pressing a kiss to your clit as he pulls back. You whimper at the loss of his fingers, aching for the sensation of him filling you once more. He reaches for your arm to slowly pull you up to a sitting position.

“Now…”

Standing from the water and moving his hands to your hips, he lifts you up to pull you close to him, hips perched on the edge of the spring against the rock. Your bare chests press together as he lifts your legs, resting them against his shoulders. He slides his cock into you with ease, and he groans, tipping his head back briefly at the feeling of your wet, warm heat gripping him so tightly. You moan, fingers curling against the wet stone beneath you as you finally gain the much-need stretch of his cock buried between your legs.

“I believe I have some tension of my own that needs to be worked out.”

[peralta-guaranteed]

Would you do any early peraltiago just hanging out being all new and scary but also comfortable and defintly end game.

Two weeks.

It's been two weeks since that chaos of a first date.

And, okay, he has to admit he doesn't have many relationships that ever passed that timemark to compare it to, but he's pretty sure none of the few who did ever felt like this. Or went to this level after less than fifteen days.

Amy was already in her pyjamas as she opened the door for him when he knocked on it after his shift, and he quickly shed his jeans and flannel for the comfort of shirts and boxers while she divided up the take away he brought on their plates. They'd chatted about their days at work, as if they hadn't sat across from each other when everything happened anyway, and Amy excitedly told him that the new book she'd been waiting on had finally come in the mail today, so that's what she pulled out when they settled on the couch and started the tv up. Her plate perched on her thighs as she scooched back on the cushions and started reading, and he was sure she didn't even notice half of the food she was shovelling into her mouth as her eyes stayed glued to the pages, so he kept a few bites of all the dishes on his plate to the side in case she'd later complain about not getting 'that perfect gyoza bite' she'd been craving all day.

And then the silence had started.

Well, it wasn't exactly silence. The tv was running some property show, and his phone would occasionally bling with a new message or twitter notification, and Amy had this habit of scratching along the pages every time she turned them. But it was quiet.

And quiet wasn't good, not in his mind. Quiet meant the suppressed rage after an unfinished fight hanging in the air, or soft sobs from another room while the cartoon laugh track from the tv tried to distract him. Quiet meant 'I'm done', in every bad sense of that phrase.

Quiet made him want to fill the empty space with as much noise as he could to drown it out.

But he knew how much Amy hated to be interrupted while reading. And what would be even worse than quiet would be her fiery stare up from those pages she was lost in, that piercing look that made him tremble long before they were even friends, when he'd receive it a lot more.

So he'd stayed quiet, too, set his attention to the new house the tv was currently showing and how absolutely horrid it was for that price range, while his mind worked overtime to convince him that maybe quiet wasn't so bad.

Quiet could be comfortable. There was no need for chatter between them anymore, and thinking back, it hadn't been needed for quite a while even before those two amazing weeks. They could sit and just be, enjoy each other's presence while doing their own thing, sometimes breaking through with a little Hey or a nod and a showing of a phone screen, or even the soft touch of fingers on arms to get the other's attention.

Amy's feet shuffle against him as if to prove that point, while she puts her finished plate on the side table without taking her eyes off of the book. He lifts them up when they hit his thigh, stretching her legs out straight across his lap and hearing the involuntary sigh of relief as her muscles unclench. She turns another page as his hands wrap around the fuzzy warm socks, press into the arch of them and start massaging.

Quiet can be good. Quiet lets him hear the soft noises she makes with every new press of his thumbs, sounds she herself probably doesn't hear. He knows them well from lying next to her in bed, when she's deep asleep and starting her little routine of whistles and peeps that are too adorable to be described.

Two weeks, and he recognises the sounds of her sleeping better than some police codes he's been learning for almost a decade. Two weeks, and they're just sitting there in silence, a whole evening spent on nothing but being together.

He looks up from her fuzzy feet to her face, still deep in the world of her book. At her usually perfect ponytail turned into a messy bun, no trace of makeup on her face, her lips being chewed on while she seems to hit a very tense part of the story. The light brown stain on the shoulder of her NYPD sweatshirt that he knows is from some coffee from ages ago and that she's been fighting to get out, but it's probably burned into the very DNA of the shirt by now. The soft curve of the thick fabric around her - knowing all about the even softer curves that hide underneath it too - down to that little tear in the side-stitch of her yoga pants, turning them from actual workout clothes into sleepwear.

No one, he thinks, not at two weeks or any other time frame, has seen her like this. Her family, maybe, parts of it - she wouldn't dare wear broken or dirty clothes in front of her mom, that he knows for sure.

She looks so beautiful without any pretense, he thinks. And something else, something that's been stuck in his throat for two weeks and needs to be swallowed down a whole lot longer if he wants to make this work.

Three little words that absolutely terrify him.

He’s not Rosa. He’s said it to more than just three people.

But not that many more.

His Nana and mom, of course, got to hear it a lot. Gina too, even though she sometimes rolled her eyes at it and scoffed. Charles, in a buddybuddy way. He’s dropped it as a joke or an oversimplification a lot, but that’s different, isn’t it? That’s not what it really means, when you say them like that, like a single statement.

Claire, the clever girl from NYU he met during his academy training, who Gina later ‘ruined financially and emotionally’ when they figured out she’d been cheating on him pretty much the entire relationship.

Sofia.

He knows now that that one maybe doesn’t count, either. It had felt wrong the second it had left his lips, even as he repeated it. It wasn’t really a feeling - it was a sense of panic, realising that things were going wrong, things were breaking, and he had to fix it, stop it, patch it up somehow, and the only thing he could think of was that. But it wasn’t true. That’s not how it was supposed to feel.

This. This, he thinks as he looks at Amy’s tongue slip out just a tad as she turns another page, this is what it’s supposed to feel like.

Like lying in a warm bath, feeling the water slip over your face as you slide under completely, every bit of your skin being heated. Like the complete absence of nerves, feeling like you could fall back at any second, because there’s always, without question, someone there to hold you up. Like that excited glimmer of joy in your chest, feeling like you’re embarking on a journey you’ve been planning for ages when all you’re doing is seeing someone you see almost every day.

I love you, he thinks and swallows it down quickly again. I love you and it’s crazy, it shouldn’t make sense, it’s been two weeks and also five years and also forever. I love you and I didn’t think this is what it feels like, I didn’t know it, I didn’t think I’d ever get to feel it like this. I love you and I know that is never going to change and I know there’ll never be anyone else, but if I say it now it will break and the quiet won’t be comfortable anymore. It will just be deafening.

-*-

She doesn’t consciously notice him starting to massage her feet - something that’s become too much of a wonderful constant already to be acknowledged every time - but she does notice when he stops.

She looks up, then, and notices Jake is staring at her with half-lidded eyes and a smile on his face, a smile that’s so soft and, as of yet, still slightly unfamiliar to her. She knows his grin too well, remembers all his guffaws, even knows about his truly excited smile, and by now also the soft turn of lips reserved for his mom and Gina sometimes, but this smile is still so new.

She doesn’t think anyone but her has ever seen it, either.

A realisation that makes her heart leap, then, completely pulled from the fantasy world of the book she’d been diving into back to reality. A glorious reality, really. Sitting here with Jake, her feet on his boxers, his soft cotton shirt clinging to his shoulders while his fingers press into her skin. That smile on his face, the smile for her, only for her.

Two weeks, and now that she thinks back, she’s seen that smile every day. Hitting her like a sledgehammer during her awkward stammers at the first few dates, making her stumble while walking through Central Park hand in hand. Caught in a funny selfie of them in front of some weird statues they found there.

They’d quickly shed the date-routine of outside and traded it for the comfort of their homes, though, and she’d excused it with the fact that they were more often than not exhausted from work, and spending time together was just easier in PJs and with trashfood than planning an outfit for a fancy restaurant. But maybe it was something else, too, something that didn’t need all the extravagance and facade of special dates. Something comfortable and sheltering and good.

Still, it maybe shouldn’t dissolve into completely ignoring him in favor of some stupid book.

“I can finish this some other time.” She says, softly, and watches the smile slowly fade from his face. “If you want to chat?”

“No, no.” He shakes his head, but also climbs over to settle against her side, his arms around her ribs and his head fitting perfectly into the curve of her shoulder, and that’s a mixed message if she’s ever seen one. “Keep reading. You’ve been waiting for that book for weeks.”

“It’s still gonna be here tomorrow.” And so will you, and the day after that, and the day after, and hopefully forever, she thinks, but she knows what’s more important as her fingers start carding through his hair.

“Read, Santiago.” He mumbles in a deep voice, and it makes her laugh, but she does reopen the book she’s been holding closed with one finger slipped in between the pages.

And so she continues, only half diving back into her fantasy world, the other half firmly locked in place by his hands sliding up and down her waist, his breath trailing over her skin down into the opening of her sweatshirt, his warmth radiating from her side all over her.

She can feel his warmth growing, and the breath calming, slipping down into that soft rhythm she knows well from her bedroom as his hands still. And when she looks down next, Jake’s eyes are closed, his face gone slack and his mouth open in a little pout as he starts those little rumbling sounds from his throat that she knows mean he’s far, far gone already.

She’s seen him asleep before their two weeks together, all balled up on the break room couch after a few overnighters, slumped into a chair or spread out over the uncomfy single bed in their stakeout holeout. She’s always been fascinated about this over-animated, noisy creature turning all soft and pliable and calm, his face morphing into an even younger impression of himself, if that’s even possible for a baby-faced adult like him. But it hits differently when it’s so much closer, when she knows she can make his eyebrows scrunch up and slacken again with her fingers scratching behind his ear.

They’ve only had two weeks, and she already knows aspects of him she never knew existed. She’s seen him at his best and his worst, and found both sides perfect.

Two weeks with anyone else, and they’d often not even seen her apartment yet. Two weeks, and she was still dressing up in outfits she didn’t even think about in her normal life, watching makeup tutorials online to perfect a smokey eye, making sure not to whine too much about her day at work and check off those interesting talking points she’d mentally collected instead while they ordered at whatever nice restaurant she’d picked for them.

Yet here she is, two weeks in, in the most ratty outfit she could find, her hair in desperate need of a wash and the feeling of a pimple making itself known on her chin, Jake in his shirt and boxers pressed against her side, softly snoring after the tough day they’ve both had.

She wonders why it feels so different, and yet not wrong at all, from all the other relationships she’s had to this point.

Maybe because it’s not as new as they make it out to be. Sure, their official relationship started almost exactly two weeks ago, but everything they have started so much earlier.

He was there when she created the coffee stain on her sweatshirt, dropping her head down with a grown on her table after they’d gone over the possible alibis after hours at her place for the hundredth time. He’d poked his finger into the tear on her yoga pants after a Sergeant-mandated work out with a laugh before she’d even noticed it herself. He’s held her hair back in even grodier states while she was kneeling over a toilet at Shaw’s, glad for their unisex approach for the dinky, dirty little closet they called WC that meant he could follow her when she stormed off from the bar.

Maybe that’s why she didn’t feel nearly as freaked out or anxious about their settling of the relationship as she would have if it happened with anyone else. He was already settled into her life, a comforting constant she could rely on. It wasn’t much of a leap from that kind of partnership to a romantic one, she reasons, obviously it would need less of an adjustment time.

And maybe that was just one of the reasons why it felt so right. Maybe there was something else, too, bubbling up her throat and slipping out into the safety of their silence right now, with him deep asleep on her.

“I love you.” She whispers, and she knows she’ll have to wait a lot longer to say that to his conscious self. She knows he’s difficult with emotions, and closes up faster than any wild clam if threatened with ‘seriousness’. And she also knows, with a twinge to her heart, that he has more than valid reasons for that - that he’s barely ever heard or said those words without them immediately crumbling in his hands.

“I love you.” She repeats, carding through his hair one more time to a soft sigh from him. “And it’s safe. I promise. It’s safe with me.”

His head turns, digs a little deeper into her shoulder, and while she knows she shouldn’t tell him yet if she wants this to work, she hopes he hears it at least a little bit. That it settles into his mind while he sleeps, makes him feel as comfortable and sure as she feels whenever she’s with him. Makes it a little easier for him to take that step and say it back some day, when she dares to try it out loud for real.

Whenever that is, she’ll be there. It’ll be worth waiting for, she knows, just to hear it again and again after that.

Hopefully for the rest of their lives.

[legoshi-plz]

So I was wondering if I could get some period cramps comfort hcs with Legoshi and Louis please? (Also whatever animal u want is fine)

I had a couple of ideas for this but the indication of a period kinda means the reader would more than likely be coded as fem and I wanted everyone to feel included so I also did a version of them taking care of their significant other when they’re sick in general (like a cold or something).

Warning: NSFW-ish Elements

//////

Louis:

Period Discomfort:

- Growing up with only Oguma and himself, he’s never experienced seeing someone go through a period ever so he has no clue how to deal with it.

- If you want any empathy from him you’re going to have to explain it to him and how painful it is for you. He might think you’re exaggerating at first but once he actually sees you in pain, he’ll start to believe it.

- Thinks money solves everything and just buys whatever he thinks you’ll need and has it delivered to you. Thoughtful yes, however you end up with a lot of menstrual products you dont use and chocolate you won’t eat because Louis just went ahead and bought everything he saw instead of actually asking you what you about brands, sizes, etc.

- Not the type to comfort you physically. He actually really hates the smell of blood and his super sensitive nose always can pick up on it. He won’t go out of his way to avoid you because it’s you and you could never repulse him but he’s not the “let’s cuddle up on the couch and watch sappy movies” type either.

- Overall avoids the situation. Not the best in this subject but is doing the best he can in his comfort zone.

Sick S/O:

- Not very good at reading preemptive symptoms. Won’t realize that you’re sick until you’re nearly hacking up a lung or fainting from fatigue.

- But once he does realize you’re not well, he insists that you get some rest and don’t push yourself. Won’t take no for an answer.

- Again thinks the best way is to throw money at a situation so buys you the best medicine, heating pad, etc. Will also take you to the doctor and if you’re too weak or unwilling, will have his personal doctor make a house call.

- Stays with you while you’re sleeping. When you wake up and try to stop him, he insists your germs won’t affect him and he can’t get sick (they totally do and he totally does).

- Overall more equipped in this subject but can be pretty strict/ annoying in your recovery (he’s lost a lot of people okay? He refuses to lose you too, especially to something like this if he can prevent it)

Legoshi:

Period Discomfort:

- His Canine senses always let him know when you’re on your period (plus he can like.... smell the blood but he’s too polite to point that out + blood is the farthest thing from unpleasant to Carnivores).

- By far the best in these type of situations. Does a ton of research and also outright asks you what he can do for you. Really attentive to you and your needs.

- Wanna listen to sad music under LED lights and just vibe out? He’s right there with your fave playlist. Wanna cuddle up on the couch and watch sad movies? He’s already got it started along with a pint of your favorite ice cream.

- Just overall Boyfriend of the year when it comes to this.

Sick S/O:

- Yep, he’s also an expert on his significant other being sick too (Go figure, right?)

- Makes homemade Soup/ Broth to soothe your throat. Runs you a warm bath to try and break the fever. Makes you take some medicines but also uses a lot of home remedies and practices he’s learned from Gosha growing up.

- Also claims he won’t get sick but unlike Louis, he actually doesn’t because he has a pretty strong immune system as a Grey Wolf. Able to stay by your side the whole time and will unless you asks for some space, which he’ll give but he’ll worry about you the whole time he’s gone.

- Overall has a tendency to hover but means well and is very knowledgeable about your recovery. Will have you feeling better the fastest.

Juno:

Period Discomfort:

- Certified expert in this subject. Knows exactly what you’re going through and knows exactly how to deal with it. Will know what you want/ need before you even know yourself.

- Always has Pads and Tampons handy. Always knows the exact size and kind to get.

- Offers advice to ease the pain you’d never even thought of before such as stretching and doing Yoga (and of course you two do Yoga together/ she helps you stretch. The close contact can be pretty intimate which you’ll love if you crave touch during your period.)

- However, if you and Juno’s periods ever sync up, she’s not going to be the most pleasant to be around, it’s best the two of you just avoid each other.

Sick S/O:

- Loves to play nurse but not actually all that great in making you feel better. Definitely has a sexy nurse’s costume that she likes to put on while caring for you.

- A lot of head pats and hand holding with a few “We’re gonna get through this,” sprinkled on there so yeah basically not helpful at all.

- Will go get you medicine or anything else you need but you have to tell her EXACTLY what to get, she’s not great at following directions okay

- Like Legoshi, being a Grey Wolf means she’s hardly ever sick... like EVER. She has hardly any experience in this field.

Riz:

Period Discomfort:

- By far the most touchy-feely when you’re on your period. He loves the smell of blood and he thinks you smell delicious. Usually a very chill, easygoing guy but becomes uncharacteristically clingy during this time.

- Never gets tampons or pads because he’s too busy eating you out or shoving his fat cock inside you.

- Thinks his dick is the cure to all of your needs and in this case he’s kinda right because period sex actually does help relieve like 80% of your symptoms.

- Fucks softer than he normally would but he’s nearly insatiable, especially when he’s high off your blood so you’re nearly on the verge of passing out from exhaustion.

- Once you’re too tired to continue, he’s still right there by your side, his arms permanently latched around you. He seriously can’t get enough of you when you’re like this, your period hormones have him even more lovestruck than he already is.

- Will draw you a bath after sex, carry you to the tub, and personally wash every inch of you. Anything to touch you at this point. Doesn’t join though because he doesn’t wanna reveal how such a seemingly innocent act gets him so hard.

- Overall has a pretty unconventional approach to period care but it makes you feel better all the same and you know it’s coming from a true place of love (and a little lust).

Sick S/O:

- Much more tame when it comes to caring for a sick S/O because the hormones you secrete during your period aren’t fogging his judgement.

- Still very touchy-feely but in a non-sexual way. Likes to lay you on top of him and hold you to help get rid of your chills. Also gives the BEST massages to relieve the ache in your joints.

- Believes honey is an end all be all cure to any illness and puts it in/on literally everything. Though it does help soothe your throat, you still end up sending him to the store to pick up some more potent remedies.

- Next to honey, he thinks sleep/rest is the answer to near everything (because he’s a bear and hibernating is their go to for any ailment) so he also adds sleep inducers to your tea, food, etc. to get you to sleep off the cold. You don’t mind because it actually does help (also he always tells you ahead of time that it’s in there)

- Overall a good caretaker in this department even if some of his actions can seem a little antiquated or stereotypical for Bears.

Gouhin:

Period Discomfort:

- He’s surprisingly a lot like Riz in this department (which actually isn’t all that surprising since they’re both bears). He’s got a sensitive nose and your hormones really mess with his head and kick him into overdrive.

- This isn’t his first rodeo with his partners’ periods so he does have some experience in this field to help keep him under control.

- Will indulge in period sex but only if his partner asks for it/ brings it up first. He knows that’s a slippery slope, especially with his kind and with his self-control so he doesn’t seek it out first. (Can’t deny that he loves when you do ask for it though)

- Knows all the tricks of the trade in helping you feel better non-sexually and indulges you when he has time but since he’s pretty busy with clients and stuff, he hardly ever has time for the aspects that require him physically being there (such as cuddling, massages, etc.)

- Pretty average in this department because he’s older so he doesn’t have time to really baby you through this the way you might want him to.

Sick S/O:

- Deals with his S/O being sick very similar to how he deals with period discomfort.

- He’s a medical professional so he tends to just get you some medicine that actually works instead of incorporating home remedies that end up taking longer, in his opinion.

- Can be a little irritating when he walks around in the morning time with his shirt off looking like the embodiment of health and toned abs, sipping on his bamboo smoothie while you feel like you’re on your deathbed.

- Tells you to get plenty rest, drink plenty fluids, take the medicine he leaves for you but he’s not there to really enforce it because he leaves in the morning for work and doesn’t get back until super late at night. You usually fall asleep and forget to wake up to do anything he told you to. He’s not upset and not really the punishment type in the first place so there are no real repercussions, he just reminds you again the next day to do it if you want to feel better faster.

- Overall, has a pretty neutral/indifferent approach to this because he’s seeing the situation through the lens of professionalism, so some aspects you really crave such as physical contact or general affection, he falls short in.

Bill:

Period Discomfort:

- Don’t call him.

- Thinks periods are gross and does NOT want to be around you if you’re on yours.

- The only way he’d reach out to you during this time is if he was horny and wanted you to use your mouth to get him off.

- A terrible guy who you should block tbh :/

Sick S/O:

- Says things like “Hang in there champ,” and that’s pretty much it.

- If you sneeze around him or cough near him, he’ll think it’s gross and proceed to avoid you.

- Why do you even bother with him again?

[tamagochiie]

pairing: timeskip!kenma x fem!reader

synopsis: You come home late from your cousin’s funeral, and though Kenma didn’t expect much from you but perhaps a few leftovers you’ve managed to steal away from the dinner, he finds you with a surprise: a sleeping child cradled around your neck and a teenage boy hovering behind you.

Your poor boyfriend wondering what in the hell it is you’re plotting…

tags: angst and fluff, time skip!, slight spoilers if you squint

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of depression, cursing

w/c: 2.2k

tagging list: @angrylittleriri​ @chims-kookies​ @gooseyhouse​

a/n: hello! welcome to the second chapter of the series! i’m posting this a little later than expected because wifi is really trying to cock block me from posting :’) i honestly wasn’t expecting people to like or interacting with this fic, so my heart is super warm right now :>  

anyway, I hope you enjoy!

happy almost new year! see you all next week!

master list

<< life as we know it | life as he’s known it >>

You wonder what the younger version of you would think if you went back in time and told her she'd be eating at a dining table filled with food that wasn't microwavable, and the air wouldn't be filled by the sound of metal clanging and scraping against each other, but instead be filled by the lilting giggles of a little boy; his older brother pressing him to keep it down; and Kenma's casual yet awkward attempt to relate to the two.

She would probably cry.

Your parents' work piled up to the late hours of the evening and spilled into the morning, leaving you in a constant state of dejection. The house would be barren, nothing but the faint ticking of the old grandfather clock to keep you company. But even if your parents were home, it would still be the same; the air cold and unmoving.

Your parents were not warm nor were they emotional, and maybe that's what drew you to Kenma; he was quiet, rarely affectionate, and gave you more than enough room to breathe. Sure, there were the occasional forehead kisses, the head pats, the 'how are you doing' texts, and sometimes if he was brave enough, he’d interlock pinkies with you in public.

But you grew selfish, finding yourself wanting a little more each time you saw him, and you weren't sure if it was okay.

Was it okay to yearn for things? 

Was it okay to ask for more?

But Kenma saw through your facade of accepting things as they are and right into your neediness. He was willing to give as long as you asked or even when you were too shy to do so. He even gave you his whole life without sparing a second thought even if the realization that he had done so came much later.

"Here, let me." Kenma slips his hands over yours, taking the plate from within your grasp to wash it in your place. He bumps his hips against yours, causing you to stumble away from the sink.

You mumble a thank you before resorting to wiping down the dishes and setting them on the rack.

You delight in his banter. He asks you about your day, stealing glances between you and the stack of dishes before him while you give him the run down. He listens to you intently, gaze wandering a little longer when he hears an exasperated sigh escape your lips, but you let him know you're just fine.

"What about you?" You ask, tilting your head and playfully moving it in front of Kenma's face, blocking him from the plate he needs to scrub. "How was your day?"

He hums, tiptoeing over you to finish the chore like the diligent little worker he is. "It was another day," You frown at him and his lack of effort to push further. He rolls his eyes, chuckling at your pouty face. "I played another trial game with Eiji—"

"And how'd that go?"

"Oh, he's absolute shit—ow!" Your slap against his arm resounds throughout the apartment, causing Yuki and Eiji's to jerk their attention towards you both. You mold your face into a look of ease, sparing them a warm smile, telling them you saw a fly.

"The hell?! I wasn't finished!" The pudding head seethes. "Sure he was shit, but he was still better than you."

The cocky grin slipping across his lips matching with his lidded eyes has you throwing your hands, erupting a series of ow's. "You're such an ass, you know that?"

"Yeah, the ass you chose." He sneers, handing you the last plate to dry.

He rubs his arm in an attempt to soothe the stinging, glaring at you begrudgingly. It takes you a while to ease back into his trust, but you do, and he picks up where he leaves off as if he wasn't in any pain  to begin with.

He tells you about his little trip to the convenience store with Yuki for his strawberry milk, and the foreign, constricting feeling that wouldn't leave his chest until they came back home. How he couldn't let go of Yuki's hand when they were in the store, and if he did, it would send him in a state of sheer panic.

"Must be your mommy instincts kicking in," You joke, and he only rolls his eyes.

He also admits inadvertently turning all your favorite whites into various shades of pinks and blues. As someone as analytical as Kenma, he was challenged by the task of separating the lights from the darks. 

You snort, earning a scowl from your boyfriend and a string of explanations to defend his case. But it isn't the mistake that makes you laugh, but rather how far you've come after a month of adjustments and an unfortunate series of events.

The first two weeks were exceptionally trying. No one spoke a word and everyone walked on eggshells. Eiji was still too shy to look at you, his responses down to a bare minimum and quieter than a whisper; Yuki cried almost all the time over every little thing, and the vein in Kenma's neck was threatening to pop every time he did.

It didn't help when you and Kenma would end your nights at each other's throats, bickering till you fell asleep. And when morning came, you'd be greeted by the emptiness from his side of the bed.

And it helped no one when the two of you would avoid each other, never crossing paths or breathing a word the moment you came home until it was too painfully awkward to continue.

Two and half hours charged with petty arguments, things of the past, and all the little things that came in between only to have finally arrived at one conclusion: You weren't parents and you weren't Akihiro-san. You were your own people and it was okay to do things differently.

Even if different meant that Kenma might call the kids by the wrong name or forget the fact he's living with someone else other than you. Even if different meant that you'll be absent-mindedly teaching Yuki a few curses to add to his vocabulary or forgetting to enroll them in school.

The truth is no one from the family was going to return your calls, and you were probably going to spend the rest of your twenties making up bedtime stories and giving pretty bad advice to someone just a few years younger than you.

Which brings you here, wearing your bathing suit as you share your bubble bath with Yuki because he wanted to play with the rubber duckies he whined and moaned at Kenma to buy for him at the store.

Lathering his hair with shampoo, Yuki's head leans against your chest, eyes gleaming beneath the bathroom lights. He beams at you, giggling at the ticklish feeling as you massage his head. He brings attention back to his ducks, making crashing sounds as he splashes them into the water.

"Is that how ducks swim?" You ask, washing away the soap from his hair. "Don't they just kinda...float around?"

He shakes his head before twisting his body to face you. He's got a tough expression plastered on; brows furrowed, his jaw clenched, eyes unwavering.

A very serious boy.

"These are special ducks," He explains, raising one to your face."These are battleship ducks."

Your lips fall to an 'o', still not picking up what he's putting down but you pretend you do.

Is this what kids are into these days?

Yuki goes on to tell you about his special ducks; something about lasers in their eyes, super special flying skills, and...echo location? You ask him if he's sure—if you heard him right, but he's as firm with his stance as he is with the death grip he has on his rubber duckies.

You drain the tub before rinsing yourselves beneath the warm water of the shower. Yuki flips his hair around, air drying himself as he steps out of the tub. You tell him to brush his teeth while he waits for you to finish rinsing.

"Hey, Oba-san," Yuki's call is muffled by the foam of the toothpaste still in his mouth. "Are you and Kenma-san married?"

You nearly fall when you slip off of your bathing suit and into your pajamas.  "Ah, no, Yuki. We're not."

"But aren't you in love?" He asks, oblivious to the sudden shift in the atmosphere, spitting into the sink and washing his mouth.

Your eye twitches and you swallow the lump in your throat before it goes big enough for you to choke and die. "Uhh, people don't always have to marry right away just because they're in love..."

"But Kenma-san said he's been in love with you for four years."

"I—Yeah, well—"

"That's sounds like a really long time, Oba-san." You can't tell if he means to sound condescending. You can't tell if your mom has awakened from the grave and possessed the young boy because she woke up thinking she had a few more things she'd like to pester you with.

"Well, Yuki," You gather the little patience you have left, taking a deep breath as you step out of the tub. The bathroom tile is cold against the soles of your feet, sending a shiver down your spine. Enough to keep you sober for trivial conversation with a six year old boy. "Love—Love kinda looks different for everyone, Yuki."

You choose your words carefully, not wanting to say anything that might confuse him.

You help him into his clothes, his hair leaving wet patches onto his his dinosaur pajamas. He listens to you intently, looking right into your eyes. "There are people marry the moment they meet—or at least after a short while—because they can't help but feel sure?” 

And you can’t help but feel flustered at your own explanation, not too sure with your words, “...and other people don't do that. Some relationships move at a faster pace and other's move a bit slower; and Kenma-san and I...we're happy with how things are right now."

He hums, nodding his head as if he understands. "Even though Eiji-san and I are here?"

"Yes, little love." You assure him with the new nickname, booping his nose. "Even though you're both here."

You grab his towel and dry his hair. You pat down the tiny puddles of water on his face and neck, noting to wipe behind his ears.

"But," Yuki mumbles through the material of the towel, swatting your hand away to to catch his breath, "sometimes people don't like different..." Yuki pushes the towel to this side, his glossy eyes meeting yours and your heart cracks. "They didn't like my dad 'cause he was different."

"H-He didn't love someone th-that looked like y-you..." Yuki bites down on his bottom lip, keeping it from quivering and fixating his eyes onto the tiles of the floor to prevent himself from choking on his words. "H-He...He loved someone that look like Kenma-san."

You understand what he means. You know full well. Their father was gay and because of that, your family ostracized him without wasting another breath. As if it was easy as blinking.

You knew what their father had been going through, you had enough time to help, yet you stood idle, doing nothing but add to his loneliness.

You kept all the sunshine Akihiro-san shared with you during your bluest days, even when it had been so obvious he needed it more than you.

But not once did you ever think about returning a sliver of it. And you wonder maybe if you hadn't been so selfish and naive, a silver lining would've been enough to avoid something as painful as this.

Instinctively, you pull him close to you, threading your fingers through his still damp hair. You shush him and press kiss on the crown of his head as his petite figure trembles in your arms. You let him sob into your shirt, his fingers twisting the material in anguish.

And it breaks your heart that a little human like him would not only know the meaning of anguish, but how it feels to have it tear through his heart.

It takes a few moments for Yuki to catch his breath and for you to ease him. He slumps onto you as he regains his strength. You tell him you're sorry because you are and because you don't know what else to say.

You try to use his strawberry milk and his brother as an incentive to keep him from crying again. And after a few minutes it works.

You trail closely behind him when he walks out of the bathroom. He begins to run when he gets closer to Eiji, the  pitter patter of his wee little feet carrying in the apartment.

You watch as Yuki thrusts himself forward into the arms of his brother, and Eiji doesn't fail to catch him. The sight before you leaves you gawking in silence, watching Eiji unravel into his big brother form as  he lifts Yuki to the ceiling, playfully sniffing his under arms, the crook of his neck, and even his little bum before complimenting him, "Good job, you smell just like flowers."

His giggles float in the air, swarming around the apartment as if he hadn't been crying just a few minutes ago.

And as you watch the scene unfold do you  decide to step out of the sidelines, using this warm moment shared between the boys as your driving force to keep the last of your cousin's light safe. 

[katnissmellarkkk]

yes hello it is I bringing you a request for summer headcanons

Peeta does summer specials at the bakery

Where he sells lemonade and ice cream

That Annie sends them from Four.

It’s a big hit

And Katniss helps out by making the lemonade and organizing the items in the display case

But she really prefers the days he’s home with her.

Some summer days in Twelve, the heat makes it feel like a collective fever for the whole town.

On those days, Peeta won’t open the bakery

And instead will open every window in the whole house

And then wake up his girl

For some summer fun.

Katniss likes to lay in bed with zero the covers in the afterglow

But Peeta insists it’s better if they take a cool bath

Where they can be cool and cuddle.

When it’s slightly less hot

And Katniss is bored

She’ll skip hunting

And pout until Peeta closes the bakery or passes the responsibility to someone else

And comes with her to the lake.

It’s secluded enough that it feels like their spot and their spot alone.

And so they don’t bother with swimsuits.

Katniss insists though that she slathers Peeta in sunscreen because of his pale complexion.

They play in the water

Katniss tries to teach him to swim

Which results in Peeta pretending to not be able to float

Just so Katniss will hang onto him.

After a while Katniss will lay in the water on her back

And stare up at the sky

Remembering days with her father here as a child

Before everything went wrong

Peeta is ecstatic to see her so at peace

But still doesn’t pass up the opportunity to sneak up on her from below the surface.

He doesn’t enjoy the scream she lets out

But he enjoys the way she wraps her arms around him and clings when she realizes it was just him.

On other summer days, Peeta’s prosthetic bothers him in the heat

What’s left of his leg gets hot more often beneath the metal at certain times of year

Katniss insists he takes his fake leg off for the day

And lay on the couch while she dotes on him.

He is not a fan of this particular arrangement

But he can’t deny how nice it feels to lay on the cushions with the light summer breeze blowing in from the windows

And Katniss gently rubbing and massaging his leg stub with medicinal cream.

After she’s done, he’ll catch her by the waist and pull her down on top of his chest

She’ll complain as he presses his lips hungrily to her’s

“You should rest your leg.”

“You know I don’t need two legs to do this.”

Sometimes on summer nights, Katniss will wake up at two or three a.m cold and shaking

Peeta instinctively will wrap his arms tighter around her

And cover her with the blankets he’s kicked to the end of the bed

And kiss her forehead tenderly

Until she falls back asleep, warm and cozy.

The only bad part of summer for them is the anniversary of Reaping Day.

Now nicknamed Independence Day across Panem.

It’s a day of celebration for most.

It’s a day of flashbacks for them.

In one of their early years with this celebration, Peeta had repeated episodes

The connotations this day held for him brought back memories he wished to never see again.

Katniss hugged him

And told him it wasn’t real

And that she loved him

She loved him so much

And she was sorry.

She was so sorry. For everything.

But it wasn’t until the fireworks went off things got worse

Because to Katniss, the explosion in the sky reminded her of her little sister becoming a human torch.

And it was her hiding in the back of their closet, rocking back and forth, covering her ears.

Peeta coaxed her out and held her in his arms until she stopped shaking

And they spent the rest of the night in their bed

Whispering real or not real until they both passed out.

After that year, they made a point in fixing up the old cabin in the woods

Turning it into a warm, homey, secluded spot for just the two of them.

With a summer breeze floating through the window and the sound of the lake not far off.

And no firework in hearing range.

Every year from then on, they head there a few days before Independence Day

And do not come back for at least a week.

People miss the bakery on those days

But it’s worth it to Katniss and Peeta

To feel safe and loved and alive

And unambushed by the triggers of their past.

[ficforce]

Benimaru Relationship Alphabet

A- Activity (What is their favourite activity to do with Y/N.) Quiet Reader: Benimaru enjoys napping with his head on her lap, Y/N is good with her hands, if he’s lucky she’ll stop whichever craft she’s doing and massage his scalp. There’s a sunny spot on the porch at the back of the Guardhouse with a mat and a soft cushion laid out, She didn’t like him sleeping on the bare wood and Benimaru didn’t like that she got a sore back - once he was asleep she didn’t like to move in case she woke him up. Loud Reader: Sparring with her is always fun, Y/N practices the same discipline as he does but she started much later in life. She offers him enough of a challenge that he really has to think about his next moves. It usually ends up with them rolling around in the dirt kissing, putting out a fire Y/N accidentally started or deciding to go take a nap. B- Beginnings (How do they act in the beginning of a relationship) Quiet Reader: Y/N is a quiet, almost shy woman, she first spoke to Benimaru when he turned up to put out a fire he had started whilst dealing with an Infernal. He would usually let the regular Hikeshi deal with it but he had literally been above it. She hadn’t realised he was there until after she had taken control of the fire and put it out with ease. Benimaru had been impressed and then he had found some amusement in how she panicked just at the sight of him. Y/N had an interesting heat signature and he had been curious to see her use her ability again - she would be too nervous to show him and either not be able to form a flame or burn him by accident. Her flames were the hottest recorded in Asakusa. At first, he was too gentle with her, treating her like a fragile flower that could wilt at any moment but then he witnessed her get angry once and wasn’t as careful: she was strong. Once he was more like himself she liked him more and was told him so. People find it amusing that he can get rowdy and pick fights whilst Y/N watches from the background with a fond smile on her lips. They compliment each other rather well. Loud Reader: They met during a bar fight. Y/N had started it after a drunk got a little too handsy with her. What started off as a one on one fight had turned into a brawl - once it had gotten out of hand she headed outside and that’s where she found Benimaru. He smiled at her, apparently a side effect of sake, and offered her a cup. He had been amused by the trouble her one uppercut had caused. Then not so amused when they ended up arguing and ended up throwing fireballs at each other. Their relationship could be described as passionate, they were quick to become lovers and slower to get to know each other. Every argument brought them closer and they’re not as explosive as they used to be.

C- Communication (Are they good communicators? How do they normally talk about their problems or solve issues)

Quiet Reader: Benimaru doesn’t like to talk about his feelings, he doesn’t like to share his problems with just anyone and even if he’s just complaining he hates when someone tries to fix his problems for him. Y/N is very good at calming him down and getting him to lower his defences enough to talk to her, she always seems to offer him good advice. Y/N is like an open book, if something is worrying her then she can’t hide it, her face always gives her away. Benimaru doesn’t like to see her upset and will ask her outright, she’ll try to tell him not to worry and that it’s not important but he won’t give up. Benimaru’s usual advice is that he can go and punch the problem - This always makes Y/N smile and she’ll figure out what to do as he hears her out. Loud Reader: She isn’t good at sharing a problem, she either tries to punch it or will let it fester inside, at first it won’t be noticeable but then suddenly she’ll burst and Benimaru struggles to calm her down at first. He’ll feel bad that he didn’t see her suffering sooner and hold her until she’s calm enough to speak to him. She just needs to rant sometimes - she’s not the type to hold onto things. Y/N is very similar to the Quiet Reader in that she’ll hear him out. She’s pretty good at reading his micro-expressions and can tell the difference between a frown and a frown. She’ll bug him until he cracks and tells her what’s going on… her advice isn’t always so good. D- Drunk (What are they like when they’re drunk) Quiet Reader: Y/N is quiet and sweet, she barely ever raises her voice but when she drinks more than one cup of sake - she turns into a different person. She will fight you. This includes Benimaru and after last time Konro keeps a count on her drinks. Loud Reader: She’s a happy drunk. Unless someone starts on her or touches her in the wrong way (If Benimaru doesn’t break their fingers first), then she’ll get rowdy. Y/N will find everything funny and likes to cuddle up to someone, if Konro is there she tends to want to cuddle him more as he’s bigger and easier to fall asleep on. Benimaru gets a little jealous. We all know what Benimaru is like when he drinks. E- Emergency (How are they in emergency situations? Y/N gets hurt, they get hurt, someone is dying etc..) Quiet Reader: Y/N can usually keep a calm head on her shoulders, she’ll help out as much as she can and tends to worry about others before herself. She knows that Benimaru puts himself in danger to protect their Town and it makes her worry but he’s so strong… so, he’ll always come back to her, right? Benimaru is used to chaos and emergencies, it’s in his job description. When it comes to Y/N though, he wants to know where she is, he wants to know her exact location so he can keep danger away from her. If anything happened to her… Loud Reader: She’s the first one to get people moving. Although she’s not an official member of Company 7 she helps out where she can, making sure civilians are out of the way and ready to defend them if needed. Y/N likes to keep tabs on Benimaru - he’s not invincible and he does dumb stuff sometimes. He wishes she wouldn’t linger so close. Benimaru knows she can hold her own and he doesn’t need to worry because she’s a strong fighter. He knows she can take a hit or two but he’ll personally incinerate anyone who hurts her. F- Free Spot (I’ll give you any headcanon I come up with) Quiet Reader: Y/N is a very good crafter, writing, drawing, knitting, sewing, felting and much much more. She can’t cook though. It’s a disaster. She set fire to water and the Guardhouse kitchen was out of commission for three days. Loud Reader: Y/N can form animals with her flames. Serpents and dragons are her main focus but when she tries something else it always looks a little odd and everyone makes fun of them. G- Gifts (What kind of gifts do they give? What kind of gifts do they get?) Quiet Reader: She gives him handmade gifts. In the winter she makes him scarves - even though they don’t need them because they’re both walking furnaces. Benimaru likes that she

sews little emblems into the inside of his coat collar, they’re their little secret. Benimaru will often commission skilled people to make the tools that she needs for her hobbies. Loud Reader: She’s not very creative so most often she’ll buy him food from his favourite vendors. Benimaru enjoys long baths and he has a private one at the Guardhouse big enough for two, she’ll often buy him relaxing salts. Benimaru treats her whenever they’re together, he’s not one for grand gestures but she once got mad because he bought her an expensive bracelet. She loves it but thinks its too much… H- Hugs (How do they show affection/cuddle) Quiet Reader: Y/N loves to hold Benimaru’s hand when they’re out walking, they can be found close together most times and he’s not shy about showing his affection with little gestures. Only if Y/N is comfortable with it - He would hate to embarrass her. Loud Reader: She’s usually holding onto his arm and will nuzzle him in public if he’s not paying attention. They’re both pretty open but they keep it light as they don’t need the whole Town knowing their business. I- Irritation (What is something that irritates them? How do they show their irritation?) Quiet Reader: Y/N has a strong sense of justice, she can’t stand it when someone is getting away with victimising another person. She particularly hates bullies and despite her quiet demeanour will always stand up for others. The air around Y/N gets a huge spike of heat and most people know to get out of the way. The easiest way to tell her mood is by temperature and her inability to hide anything. Loud Reader: She doesn’t have a huge amount of patience for idiots. If someone is being stupid - on purpose - she will have no time for them. Also, people who walk too slow drive her mad. There’s a huge street and you are taking up all the room - move!! She’s pretty straight forward in telling people when they’re annoying her. And if Benimaru ‘Tch’s her one more time… J- Jackpot (How would they spend their winnings if they won the lottery?) Quiet Reader: Y/N would use it for the Town, she’s got all she needs and likes a simple life. There’s a roof over her head, food on the table and she has people she loves - maybe she would splash out a little on a new kimono for the festival? Loud Reader: She’s never really had money and where she grew up in Asakusa was a little rougher. It’s a much better place now but she remembers being unhappy when she was small and there was no neighbourhood watch looking out for the Town - Only selfish gangs. She’d want to set up a place in Town for kids to come to if they needed somewhere safe - God help Benimaru if he hits it with one of his matois. Benimaru has everything he needs and doesn’t care about money. K- Kryptonite (What is their ultimate weakness?) Quiet Reader: Her control over her emotions. Y/N can’t control herself if she gets angry, she loses control of her flames and because they’re hotter than most they consume things faster than the Hikeshi can put them out. She’s terrified of causing that kind of damage again and tries to stay calm. Loud Reader: Y/N might seem rough and ready for a fight but she’ll sacrifice herself without hesitation. She would rather get hurt than allow anyone else to and this is dangerous for Benimaru as not only does it make her potential bait but he wouldn’t cope with her getting hurt badly. Benimaru has so much emotional investment in Y/N (both) that if anything happened to either one of them he would be at a loss. If they died… he can’t even bear to think about it. L- Laughter (What makes them laugh?) Quiet Reader: The twins make her laugh when they’re picking on Benimaru or just plotting their next prank within hearing distance. Konro’s facial expressions when Benimaru is being unreasonable amuse her. Benimaru knows that her neck is ticklish, unless they’re being intimate, and likes to try and press kisses there to watch her squirm and try to wriggle away. Loud Reader: If she’s drunk - everything is funny. She usually laughs the most at meal

times because the Hikeshilike to eat together, it’s noisy but she likes that it feels like a huge family. Making Benimaru laugh is what makes her the happiest, he only does it in front of his closest people. M- Morning ( How do they wake up in the morning? Are they a morning person or a morning grouch?) Quiet Reader: She will stay in bed as long as there’s someone to cuddle up to. Benimaru will sometimes lay awake for a while so that she can keep sleeping as she tends to get up once she’s awake. Y/N is a little drowsy first thing and she’s clumsy but after an hour she’s wide awake and busy with getting the twins hair just right. Loud Reader: She’s a monster. Do not wake her up unless you absolutely have to. Y/N stays up too late and always suffers for it the next morning. Give her her morning beverage and stand clear until she speaks to you first. Benimaru gets up first thing, he doesn’t get a full night’s sleep but he takes catnaps during the day. Morning is the best time to pester him because he’s too dazed to get mad. N- Needy (When do they feel particularly needy? How do they show it?) Quiet Reader:  Y/N tries not to be needy, she tries to get by on her own and not be a burden but she often feels vulnerable when she’s caused trouble, accidentally or by losing control.

Sometimes she’s not sure what’s upset her but she’ll go to Benimaru and simply pinch the bottom of his Banten, holding onto it as a little kid would. It’s enough for Benimaru to know she needs him and he’ll drop what he’s doing to comfort her.

She does the same for him so he really doesn’t mind it.

Loud Reader: She’s not used to having someone who will spoil her. She mostly keeps things hidden but when she’s feeling ill - that’s it. She needs attention and will openly ask for it. This can be something as simple as asking Benimaru to stroke her hair or make her tea. When she inevitably makes him ill she’ll return the favour. O- Oasis (Where is their happy place? Where would they go if they didn’t have anything holding them back?) Quiet Reader: There’s a small clearing by the river that Y/N loves, in the summer it’s shaded by a large tree and it’s far enough away from other things that she hopes it never gets hit by Benimaru’s flames. It’s another place Benimaru likes to take a nap with his head on her lap but it’s where he first kissed her. Loud Reader: Y/N has never been outside of Asakusa. One day she would like to see what’s beyond the gates and experience what a City is like. She’s a proto-nationalist so she doesn’t care too much for their views or customs but even if it were to go and see Company 8’s dump - she’d like to go. P- Pain (How do they handle pain? How do they handle when Y/N are in pain?) Quiet Reader: She’s not a person who complains so if she says something hurts then Benimaru knows it’s serious. She slipped in the snow one year and hurt her ankle. At first, she tried to brush it off and limp home but after only a few steps she fell. One of Company 7 had been passing at the time and carried her home, when Benimaru saw her he took her from the other man and pressed a kiss to her temple - he could see she was holding back tears and it broke his heart. Benimaru called a doctor and made sure that she got plenty of rest, he sat her down on his lap and held her until the painkillers made her fall asleep. Loud Reader: Benimaru gets mad at Y/N because she’ll ignore the pain until she physically can’t take it anymore. He’s known her to ignore broken ribs before and it wasn’t until he hugged her that she nearly collapsed in agony. He’s sweet to her once she admits she’s hurting, it’s similar to when she’s sick and needy - she just wants him to fuss over her and stay close. Q- Quote (What’s a quote that fits them and your relationship) Quiet Reader: Just because you took longer than others doesn’t mean you failed. Remember that. - Unknown Loud Reader: I care. I always care. That is my problem. - Unknown R- Reunion (How do they celebrate seeing Y/N after a long time of being apart) Benimaru is going to shower them with affection and take them to bed. The first orgasm is going to be from a slow, intimate love making. After that - well, whatever they like. You will not see either of them until the next day. S- Stress (What stresses them out? How do deal with stress and how do they relieve it?) Quiet Reader: She doesn’t get stressed too easily but if people are getting hurt or if she feels like she is failing at something she gets stressed out. Y/N’s first reaction when she feels like this is to start crying over the dumbest little thing and try to hide somewhere she can try to calm down. Once she’s taken a moment to evaluate everything she puts on her brave face and gets back to it. If Benimaru is around he’ll wait for her outside the room, he doesn’t want to crowd her or make her feel like she can’t cope without him. Loud Reader: Because she lets things build up over time, Y/N can become stressed very quickly and this usually ends up in what seems like a tantrum. She’ll go out to practice her fighting and if she’s lucky Benimaru will join her. Once all that pent up stress is gone she’ll be back to normal… if just a little bit moody. T- Terror (What are they afraid of?) Quiet Reader: As mentioned before, Y/N can’t control her ability if she gets angry. It’s only anger that blinds her with rage and she’s terrified that one day she’ll kill someone by accident. She’s terrified that it’ll be Benimaru because she’s burned him before. Loud Reader: Y/N likes to think that nothing scares her and spent her life trying not to be scared of anything. But sometimes, after an

argument with Benimaru, she’s terrified he might not come back after they’ve walked away from each other. Of course, he always comes back first. U- Unique (What is a quirk that is unique to them?) Quiet Reader: She can only produce blue flames and they’re the hottest recorded. Loud Reader: She can eat six takoyaki balls in under one minute - freshly made. It’s her best party trick. V- Violence (Do they fight a lot? Are they a good fighter? What is their fighting style?) Quiet Reader: Y/N doesn’t like to fight and doesn’t know how. Benimaru and Konro have tried to teach her some basic defence moves but that’s about as much as she’s done. If push ever came to shove she could just superheat the air around her to make it impossible to get close. Loud Reader: She’s not a violent person but she loves to fight. Her style is the same as Benimaru’s but she’s a few years behind so isn’t as good as him yet. Her advantage over him is her strategic mind. Y/N is vulnerable to body blows and once she goes down she struggles to get her advantage back. W- Wow (What does Y/N do that really surprises them? What do they do that Y/N really likes?) Quiet Reader: The first time Y/N stood up to a guy twice her size and demanded he apologise and pay the storekeeper they had just stolen from, Benimaru had been taken aback. The quiet, shy girl he was so careful around had an aura so dangerous that even he had to think about whether he wanted to even approach. The man had laughed at her and made to leave - luckily he had been a third-generation and only his clothes were burnt to a crisp. Benimaru wasn’t so careful with her from then on. Y/N was surprised by how gentle Benimaru was when they were alone. He’s very soft and childlike… unless he’s after something a little more grown-up. Loud Reader: Benimaru hadn’t thought someone as boisterous as Y/N would like children. She adores them, she always has time for kids and gets especially soft around babies. Y/N doesn’t just like them but she’s very good with little kids and he’s surprised how motherly she is. Y/N really likes when Benimaru feels her looking at her and instead of asking what she wants, he gives her a gentle smile. It always makes her feel happy. X- (Explicit headcanon. For all you degenerates) Quiet Reader: Y/N is shy when it comes to sex but she’s not inexperienced. Benimaru was a little too gentle with her the first few times - which was mind-blowing and completely satisfying but she really wanted to see him lose his cool. Y/N got so frustrated that she pushed him onto the futon and ravaged him. After that, Benimaru does what he likes providing it doesn’t hurt her and they both get off on it. Technically Benimaru initiates sex but Y/N will drop some pretty heavy hints that she wants him. Loud Reader: The first few times they were rough with each other and that was enough to keep them coming back to each other. But as they got to know each other Benimaru became a little slower, a little gentler and it really threw her off. Eventually, she told Benimaru that it made her uncomfortable and he found out that her previous boyfriends had been pretty selfish. They didn’t always satisfy her or make her feel loved. It took some effort and patience but now she knows that sex can be good at any pace. Y- Yucky (Is there something that grosses them out so badly that they can’t deal with it?) They’re both pretty good with most things, plenty grosses them out but nothing that they just simply wouldn’t be able to stand. Z- ZZZ’s (What are their sleeping habits? Both with and without Y/N) Quiet Reader: Y/N is usually in bed by midnight, if she’s out at a festival or the bar with Benimaru then two in the morning seems to be her limit - after that, she’ll sleep anywhere. Before bed she likes to take a bath and have something warm to drink, she’ll do a little reading or speak with the others before heading to bed. If Benimaru is home he’ll usually follow her timing or join her an hour later. They spoon. Y/N fits so well against him and they usually fall asleep

whilst talking about little things - always with their fingers entwined. If Benimaru is out patrolling then she’ll steal his pillow to cuddle. Loud Reader: She’ll often be awake until three in the morning, she struggles to sleep normal hours because she sleeps in so late. Y/N has tried to go to sleep earlier but really struggles. She’ll brush her teeth, brush her hair and grab a drink before heading to bed as she prefers to wash in the mornings/whenever she gets up. If Benimaru isn’t home then she’ll keep herself busy until she finally falls asleep, she takes up most of the futon and Benimaru has a hell of a time getting in with her when he gets back. When he is there, he’s usually fallen asleep before her. Benimaru tends to sleep on his side with his arm over her middle and his face nestled into her neck whilst she’s on her back. Sometimes being unable to sleep gives her the rare opportunity to fall in love with Benimaru’s sleeping face. He’s rather beautiful when he’s not sulking.

[imaginefan]

Weird Situation

Stefan Salvatore X Reader 

Word Count: 783

Requested: Anon @yipee101

Request: Hey can u pls do a stefan salvatore x reader imagine, where the reader is really high and tired returning frm the beach and stefan washes her hair for her ?🥺 AND Hey can u do a stefan salvatore imagine where stefan and reader have to share bed in a weird situation? AND Hey can you pls do a stefanx reader imagine ?

Warning - Non descriptive drug use

Stefan had been looking for you for a little while because he actually found you at the Beach and honestly he didn't really know how to deal with you, you were like a child when you were high and you were definitely high considering the smell from the Beach alerted him to that fact. He rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face and you made your way towards him "what are you still doing out here?" He asked.

"What are you talking about? It's still early." You mumbled and Stefan raised his eyebrow. "You think so?" He asked and you nodded. "Well it's not and it's time to go home." He said and you looked at him and pulled a face before shrugging and taking his hand. "Fine but you have to stay with me." You wagered and he smiled before nodding his head. "I think I can do that." He agreed as he led you to the car.

You and Stefan had been friends since he moved to Mystic Falls but nothing more had happened past that, Stefan had often thought about being with you because you were so close people often thought that you were already dating, you seemed so easy to be around but he didn't know how you felt and you had never said anything about being with someone else, you, on the other hand, had thought about the same thing but you just assumed that he was only interested in Elena so you never said anything, at least not when you were sober. Now in the state that you were in you honestly had no problem creating a plan that you thought was genius. "Hey, Stefan?" You asked as he climbed into the car. "Hmm." He hummed. "Can you help me wash my hair when we get back, there's sand in it" You mumbled and you played with your hair and he smiled before nodding. "Don't worry when we get back, I can help you wash your hair." He promised as he started the car.

It didn't take too long for you to get home but in that time the atmosphere had changed quite dramatically for you it had gone from loud to quiet in a couple of minutes and your body realised that you were actually really tired. Stefan opened the door and you looked at him and smiled "come on." He said softly. "I'm tired." You whined, he shook his head before reaching out for you and pulling you into his arms. "Come on, you got to stay awake a little longer." He said, "you wanted me to wash your hair, right?" "I guess." You shrugged before wrapping your arms around him as he carried you towards your apartment, once you were inside he walked straight into the bathroom and sat you on the counter as he got everything ready. "You probably have sand all over your body, you should just have a bath or a shower," Stefan said. "Mmm." You hummed, he looked back at you to see that you were leaning against the wall behind you, your eyes almost closed. "Bath." "Okay." He said softly before he started running the bath for you, once it was done he turned to leave so that you could get washed and dressed again. "Wait where are you going?" You asked. "You said that you were going to wash my hair." "Right, well you get in and I'll get you some clothes to change into and then I come back in and wash your hair," Stefan explained before leaving the room, by the time that you had gotten in the bath he was back, he walked over grabbing the jug and wetting your hair before gently massaging the shampoo into your hair, he could feel you leaning slightly and shifted slightly so that you didn't fall into him, he washed the shampoo out of your hair before putting in the conditioner and then helping you wash the rest of your body before finally washing out the conditioner, you got out and wrapped yourself in a towel before drying yourself off and getting changed once you were decent you walked out into your bedroom and Stefan towel-dried your hair for you and brushed it through before tying it up for you. "Hey, Stefan!" You called as he turned to leave and he looked back at you. "I want you to stay." "You want me to stay?" He asked but instead of talking you reached out to him and waited, he walked back over to you and climbed into your bed pulling you close to him and gently running his hand over your back helping you fall asleep.

Requests and general question!

[sketchguk]

lover to lean on; pjm

➳ pairing: neighbor!jimin x florist!reader

➳ genre: neighbor AU, flower shop AU, smut, fluff, angst

➳ wc: 20k

➳ synopsis: for months, you can hear your no face neighbor and his ‘girlfriend’ singing and dancing and laughing and falling in love. above all, you can hear their bed banging against your shared wall, and they won’t ever let you sleep. you’d much rather stay up at night worrying about your own problems, like the weight of an unrequited crush, so of course you’re bitterly single. but one day, the apartment is radio silent. and one day slowly turns into one week and then into an immeasurable amount of time since you’ve heard his laugh. so on valentine’s day, when you’re missing it the most, you beg your neighbor to open up to you with cookies in one hand and two broken hearts in the other. 

➳ warnings: explicit language, pining, unrequited love 🤔, accidental voyeurism, unhealthy eating/sleeping habits, praise kink, body worship, nipple play, fingering, oral (f receiving), handjobs, penetration, fluffy sex

➳ a/n: oops, I uploaded this later than I expected because the word count really got me. anyways, this fic is inspired by the song call me by keshi x rainlord. go give it a listen! 

Wake up and smell the roses.

That would be a great philosophy for life if you didn’t have to wake up to the sound of sex at 2 in the goddamn morning. 

Perhaps it’s your fault for not checking on the thickness of the drywall prior to moving in, but it wasn’t exactly the first concern that came to mind when touring the flat. Now, it’s more of a personal problem than anything: you being bitter about not having sex while your neighbor and his girlfriend are going at it like rabbits 5 feet away from you. It’s not a very valid complaint to bring up to your landlord. He’d probably tell you to suck it up and get laid. 

And he’s right. 

Besides, it’s not so bad most days. You hardly even notice the sound of running water through the rusty pipelines every morning or the whizzing of the ancient radiator on cold nights. In fact, you welcome it. It’s become part of the rustic building’s old-school, pre-historic charm. 

That, you can get behind. 

But one thing is for sure. You’re never going to learn to appreciate the strangled garble of a morning blowjob in the steamy showers or the banging of the bedpost against the paper thin walls when you’re in desperate need of some beauty sleep, well deep in a state of REM. 

It’s anything but charming. 

The 3 inch thick divider between you and your not-so-considerate neighbor does absolutely nothing to drown out the soft moans and hard grunts. You can hear them loud and clear through the dead of night as if they’re right beside you. 

“My god,” you sigh, rolling around your bed restlessly. Your hand blindly palms at the sheets in search of the pillow that rests beside you, placing it over your face and sandwiching yourself between the cushions. If you can’t kill your neighbor, you might as well suffocate yourself first to avoid incrimination, shamefully persecuted for third degree murder. 

A frustrated groan falls from your lips, but it’s stifled against the buffer. The banging stops almost immediately. 

“Shit,” you hear from the other side. 

Did he come? Is it over? 

You pray, hold your breath, and lie still as if you’re the one caught red-handed. But you’re not a voyeur. At least not on purpose. 

It isn’t your fault for being a light sleeper because the only thing to blame is the flimsy partition your landlord dare considers a wall. If you could have it any other way, you would. This is far from ideal granted that you didn’t even ask for any of this, but it’s far too late to get a refund. 

Lately, you’ve been spending your nights muting out vulgar dirty talk, the occasional squelches, and the obscene skin slapping on skin. Over time, you’ve come to know your neighbor on a much more intimate level than you would have liked despite never seeing him around. Like the fact that he thrives off of edge play and praise kinks. Yeah, it’s probably for the best that his identity is kept a secret otherwise you wouldn’t ever be able to look him in the eyes again with the knowledge that you have stowed away in the crevasses of your brainー knowledge you would prefer to forget. You don’t even know his name, but you’re long past the point of being acquainted with one another, so it would pretty be awkward to ask for it now. All you know is that he’s stuck in his own bubble, too blinded by love and lust to even consider his poor neighbor. 

Most nights, you even make the effort to stumble through your cluttered, moonlit studio apartment in search of your cheap headphones that usually dangle precariously over the edge of your desk. You’ve made a mental note to invest in some earplugs and a more effective set of headphones too. 

Truly, you’re not the type to invade one’s privacy. You have nothing to be sorry about because you respect your neighbor, his girlfriend, and their sexy time. If anything, they should be the ones apologizing for keeping you awake for three consecutive nights. No less on a Tuesday. 

But perhaps the act is already done and you can let bygones be bygones. Maybe he’s already come, and as unfortunate as that may be for his girlfriend, the chances are he's low on stamina tonight. The vivace metronomic thuds against your shared wall would suggest he was going pretty hard at it too. Not that it’s any of your business. You’re happy that your neighbor is so in love, and that he can have sex all day, all night and fall into the comfort of his lover’s arms, unlike you. You’re not bitter. 

Not at all. 

You don’t mean to get invested in his relationship, but it’s just that tonight, he finished rather early as opposed to the hour it usually takes him to climaxー foreplay and edge play and all. You don’t keep track of the time per se. That’d be a little creepy, but it’s hard not to do so when you’re losing out on a precious hour of sleep each night. Especially when you’re stuck in your own overactive imagination, wondering how good his stroke game is and what type of lingerie he’s intoー

“Sorry!”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Then the realization hits you momentarily. 

He’s talking to you. 

They must have heard you groaning through the stupid, thin walls, and therefore, you’re responsible for this very awkward exchange. 

Your grip on the pillow loosens as you lift it over your head. 

“It’s okay!” Your voice cracks with a heightened tone, “Just make sure you use protection!” The cringe settles into the pit of your stomach as soon as you respond. You squeeze your eyes shut and mentally facepalm yourself. You should have left it alone, but your cursed mouth moves way faster than your thoughts. 

The couple whispers to one another, but it’s hushed and hurried. Faint and hard to decipher. Angry, even. The wall must be really selective on what it chooses to mute out which is absolutely perfect when you actually want to know what’s happening on the other side. 

However, moments after, you can still hear the rustle of sheets and the patter of footstepsー two pairs. Even the harsh close of the door and the soft turning of the deadbolt, a resounding click that could be heard if you were to listen close enough. 

Once again, there’s a shuffle of feet that skid across the hardwoodー one pair. A few creaks echo from the aged floorboards. And then there’s a squeak from the bed slat, a heavy mass pressing on the mattress. 

You sit in silence with eyes wide open as you trap air into your lungs in fear of breathing out. Correction, in fear of your neighbor making comments on your rude interruption. If you could pretend that you’re asleep, maybe the problem will disappear into the night. 

But it doesn’t because it never works that way. 

Moonlight filters through the pane glass windows, right between the cracks of your curtain. It illuminates your face and keeps you awake longer than you need to be. You manage to let out the breath you’ve been holding when something else breaks the silence. 

You can hear it faintly. The soft hum of an unfamiliar tune before the soft outbreak of vocals. The song is bitter, but the voice is sweet.

Your neighbor has gotten into the habit of singing whether it be at dawn or dusk, yet you can never complain given his velvety voice. Sometimes it’s accompanied by the strum of an acoustic guitar or the tap of an electronic keyboard. But one thing that never changes is his love for the same old bubble gum pop music that’s rinsed and repeated on the radio. Nothing but love on the brain. Mushy lyrics that bear no meaning to you, and frankly, to anyone who’s painfully single and/or heartbroken. 

You would have expected nothing less from this man though. His taste in music is a given. Most days, you can physically feel his warmth and kindness based on the dulcet timbre of his voice. Although you’ll never care to admit it to him, it helps you fall asleep on nights when you’re drained from work. They’re comforting songs that warm your heart, especially because he’s singing such sincere lyrics about his girlfriend. 

His love for her is pure, and it’s disgustingly cute. 

No matter how many times you try to convince yourself that you’re happy for the lovely couple while internally cringing during their late night endeavors, you’re wondering if you’re subconsciously longing for a relationship just like theirs. 

But you’d be crazy not to dream about that kind of love story. One in which the guy cooks a meal for you at the end of every night, served alongside a hot cup of peppermint tea to help you sleep better. In which he runs a bath for you, flower petals, candles, soap suds, and the whole shebang, only to hop right in behind you. Someone to keep you company while giving you a back massage, working on the hard-to-reach knots that line your shoulder blade after a hard work day. Of course at his own volition, never having to be asked to do so. 

Perhaps you’re more invested in your neighbor’s picture perfect relationship than you thought, knowing all these little, intimate details no one else should know. But once again, the thin wall is to blame. You’re not an eavesdropper. You’re just a hopelessly hopeless romantic who needs to wake up and smell the damn roses. 

Because apparently, not every relationship is as perfect as it seems. 

“Everything okay?” You don’t know why you open your mouth, but you do, and you can’t take it back. He’s long since stopped singing, but the residual silence is louder than the gentle voice that once filled the space. 

He sighs deeply. The frustration is unmistakable, and you regret ever saying anything. 

“Yeah… Just trouble in paradise.” He chuckles dryly, but there’s a tinge of sadness to it. 

The room is quiet again. You debate with yourself, wondering if you should hash it out with him or go to fucking bed knowing that you have a 7 am shift tomorrow. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” The kindness of your heart outweighs all else, but you cross your fingers and secretly hope that his answer is no just so you can finally get some shut-eye. 

“Uhm… I wouldn’t want to bother you.” His voice wavers. He sounds tired, but maybe it’s the exhaustion from navigating the rocky waters of a relationship. You’ve been there before. 

Everyone’s been there before. 

Your eyes are closed, and just when you think you can go back to bed, your mind and heart betray you. 

“I wouldn’t be bothered,” you tell him, “I’m already awake too.” 

His chest rumbles with a true chuckle this time. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” 

“Don’t even worry about it. I’m probably gonna invest in some ear plugs tomorrow,” you quip, waving it off. 

“You really don’t have to,” he deadpans. There’s a pregnant pause, and you’re left confused. He continues with a shaky breath, “I’m not sure we’ll be back together after this.” 

Now you’re even more confused. Were they not just ravaging one another moments ago? 

“Valentine's Day is coming up next Friday…” you muse. “You could still win her back, you know?” 

The radiator whirs in the background. It’s silent. 

“Do you love her?” You query, thumbing the pilled edges of your blanket. 

“That’s a loaded question.” 

Now it’s your turn to stay silent. 

“I think I do,” he starts. His voice is rough. “Love her— I mean.” He falters in uncertainty. “Sorry, I’ve never admitted it to myself before.” 

“That’s okay.” It’s a weak attempt to comfort him, but the situation is totally out of your hands. You don’t even know the full picture, yet it somehow feels like you’re on the other side of the breakup even though you’re just sitting in the audience, watching, or rather hearing, the drama unfold. 

Your fingers interlock with one another, resting over your chest as you lie flat on your back. The heavy weight of your heart sinks lower into your stomach. Maybe love isn’t real, or maybe it’s not meant for people like you and him. Or is it just some misconstrued concept jumbled up in your brain? Some romanticized notion you’ve only ever dreamed about or seen in movies and read in fanfiction?

You gulp, pondering over how things could possibly go wrong in their seemingly perfect relationship. Well, there are millions of reasons, but maybe you’ve only ever heard the good times roll. Days when they’re frolicking in a meadow of sunshine and nights when they’re singing and dancing and laughing, head over heels in love, and everything is just peachy perfect. Maybe the bad and the dirty have yet to expose itself to you, still hidden behind an extra layer of stucco drywall and eggshell paint coatings. No matter how many times you bitch about them, the innermost part of you is still rooting for the couple you’ve had the displeasure of listening to have sex every night. But it’s always worth it, or so you think, for the sake of them being in a good place. To be undoubtedly quote unquote in love—

“Have you ever been in love?” It surprises you that he’s the one asking instead of the other way around. 

You stare blankly at the ceiling with a racing heart. Biting your lip, you speculate whether or not you should reveal such intimate details about your life to a total stranger.

“Nope,” you shake your head. He can’t see you, but you hope that your response is convincing enough. 

“Would you want to?” 

You can’t help but scoff. “Yeah, what kind of question is that?” 

“You’re right, it was stupid.” He chuckles. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” you warn him, “You don’t have to.” 

“Sorr—”

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll personally come over and flick you on the forehead,” you say, reprimanding him. 

His laughter is even sweeter than his voice. “Harsh. But nice? I guess?”

That’s the perfect description for someone who works in the service industry, which unfortunately, you do. 

“It’s for your own good,” you suggest, nodding your head in self indulgent pleasure. Kind of like how avoiding love is for your own good.

The silence quickly settles in, as does the existential dread. Your eyes shift around to the empty apartment before you, and you soon realize that you’re painfully alone.

The radiator goes off again and the clock ticks perpetually. The moment escapes you. 

His voice fills up the room. “Can I ask how you’re doing?” 

The corner of your lips curl up in a fond smile. You exhale a deep sigh, one of contemplation. “I’m okay… Just... learning how to deal with unrequited love.” 

“Harsh,” he echoes back.

“Yeah.” You curl up on your side, sighing and reaching for a pillow to spoon. 

“Want to talk about it?” 

You gnaw on your lip. It’s a bad habit to have. “There’s not much to talk about. It’s just some guy who always walks in at work. We make small talk, flirt a little bit, and then he leaves until the next day.” A highlight reel flashes before you, and you tug on your blanket, nuzzling into the warm fabric that offers you some semblance of comfort against the outside world as you dig your nose into the soft linen. 

“How do you know he doesn’t like you?” 

You shrug to yourself. “It’s just a feeling.”

You think the conversation is over at this point. Moments go by until your ears perk up at the faint sound of his voice. “You should ask him out.”

Your neighbor surely seems to enjoy making a fool out of you. It’s a nice thought to have though. To think that you have the confidence to ask a guy out. The guy you’re crushing on, no less. 

You satiate your neighbor anyways just to entertain the idea a little longer and give him a little push towards his own love story. “Only if you make amends with your girlfriend though.” 

“Girlfriend? Oh— no, she’s not my girlfriend,” he says in defense. 

You’re perplexed. “Wh-? She’s not?”

“No... uh, just friends with benefits,” he confesses with a cough. 

Flashbacks start to go off in your head as you try to connect the dots like some mathematical formula. Is love actually an illusion? Maybe love knows no labels, but a small part of you still wants to believe that they’re wholeheartedly in love and on the verge of marriage or something. But that delusion instantaneously bursts into dust and ashes, confirmed by none other. 

“Hey, I’m kind of tired, so I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? I’ll make it right with her so long you talk to the guy.” He lets out a huff. “Don’t let him miss out on a good thing because of the what ifs.” 

Comfort washes over you at the sound of his advice. In a way, he’s right. Maybe it’s time that you put yourself out there in spite of the possibilities. Even if it’s utterly terrifying. 

“Goodnight,” you mumble back, wrapping your arms securely around the pillow. 

He hears you loud and clear, “Goodnight. Thanks for the talk.” 

He knocks out soon after that, but it’s hard for you to sleep when you’ve got nothing but love on the brain. 

Waking up is hell, especially when you’re running on nothing but 0 hours of sleep and a single cup of black coffee. The only thing that makes the fatigue worth it is the peaceful lull at sunrise and the absence of your noisy neighbor’s daily blowjob. It’s as if some higher power read your mind and decided that you’re worth the divine intervention just for that one fleeting moment of jubilation. 

But just like the law of gravity, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction, and your contract with the universe calls for some cosmic karma. It’s like you’re being punished because you can never seem to catch a break. 

Work is unusually hectic, but with Valentine’s Day around the corner, it’s expected. If Black Friday is the worst nightmare for every retail worker, one can imagine a florist’s week leading up to Single’s Awareness Day, or much less commonly referred to as “A Shallow, Capitalistic Attempt to Buy Affection Day.” 

Despite owning a flower shop, you still stand firmly against Valentine’s Day and all that it represents. Maybe you’re spiteful because you’re pitifully single and surrounded by lovey dovey mush at every single corner. But as of right now, it has more to do with the extra workload that lies at your feet. 

Not only do you have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to open shop and prepare for the deliveries, but you also have to cut and process flowers, organize dozens of overnight orders, and arrange bouquets for the day’s purchases, all before 9am. The to-do list is endless, and not to mention, the number of calls you’ve picked up in the last hour alone has already backed you up on a number of orders. It’s stressful and incredibly time consuming to say the least. 

By 10am, you’re ready to call it quits, but you constantly remind yourself that this job is your only source of income, and therefore, you have to barrel through with a bright and shining customer service smile on your face. 

At this point, you really wish you did smother yourself with your pillow last night. 

But the only thing that keeps your sanity in tact after the morning rush is the chance to make arrangements for the front display. It’s therapeutic to pick and choose foliage, sprucing them into beautiful pieces of art for passersby to enjoy. You’re grateful for the scent of seeded eucalyptus and baby’s breath which is remedial to your burgeoning headache. Even the sight of your favorite carnation is enough to ease the pounding pain against your skull. 

However, making arrangements isn’t all sunshine and flowers despite popular belief. The worst part about it is the heavy lifting. It’s labor intensive to pick up large plants like the full sized leatherleaf fern in the back room, which is now carefully lodged into a concoction of gardening soil, compost, mulch, and active charcoal. But if nobody else is going to do it, you’re going to have to do it alone. 

Lifting the hefty plant isn’t difficult to begin with, but it progressively becomes taxing when you have to carry it to the front of the store. As you emerge from the back door, the bell of the entrance chimes, signifying a customer’s presence.  

You can hear him before you can even see him. 

“Good morning!”

You nearly jolt at the sound of his chipper voice. Of course Jimin had to walk in at the peak moment of you struggling, looking like a disheveled mess with soil accumulated in your hair like a burrowed nest. You just hope and pray that it’s not smeared across your forehead like Simba.

Out of pure embarrassment, you hold the pot higher to hide your burning cheeks behind the plant despite your arms giving out. Would all of your problems disappear if you act like you’re not there? Once again, of course not, because he spots you in an instant, and you’re just not fated to have the good things in life. 

He calls out your name before stopping to place his things down at the table and rushing over to you, “Here, let me help you with that.” 

You have an ironclad grip on that ceramic pot, holding on to it as if it’s life or death. “No, it’s okay, I got it,” you say out of pure, frantic determination. 

“Don’t be silly, let me.” He reaches for the bottom of the earthenware. His hand grazes over yours before you can pull away, shifting the responsibility onto him. 

You offer him a grateful smile that extends your eyes, and he sends one back your way. 

“Where do you want it?” He asks. You can’t even get a word in before he turns on his heels and makes space for you through the narrow aisle. 

Leading the way, you show him the spot you’ve marked for the fern to hopefully reside for the next 24 hours. “Here’s good,” you tell him, pointing to the empty tile. 

Jimin bends down and gently places the plant into its new home. Then he reaches into his messenger bag, pulling out a packet of tissues before gravitating towards the spray bottle.

“I’m a big girl, you know? I could do it myself,” you whine with a slight pout. 

He grips on your right shoulder, and you’re locked in place. “I know, but I want to help,” he says with the utmost care, “And you can ask me for help whenever you need it, you know?” Jimin smiles at you, and his eyes lower into crescent moon shapes, the corners slightly creasing. Before you know it, there’s a cool sensation on your forehead. The tissue in his hand is thoroughly saturated and now damp against your skin. You recoil on contact and reach for Jimin’s wrist, ready to yell at him for the lack of warning. 

“Hey!”

“Stay still, you have soil on you,” he alerts with sharp eyes. 

You let go of his wrist and give in to his kind gesture, murmuring out a “fine”. 

While he concentrates on cleaning you up, you can’t help but look up and lock your eyes on his. You swear you could spontaneously combust and astral project from the intensity of his stare. His close proximity makes you heat up, so you’re forced to avert your eyes elsewhere out of pure intimidation. Your line of sight meets his lips, and you’re stuck in place, staring at them. They’re so pink and plush, and his tongue even pokes out a little like a sleepy kitten with slack jaw. Most of all, they’re right there in front of you, and if you could just lean in a little more, you’d be this closeー

“All clean!” He says with cheer, tapping your shoulder.

He turns around in search of the dustbin, and you shake yourself out of your own daydream before he can catch sight of you. 

You laugh it off and offer him a toothy smile, “If you really want to help, you could have gotten me a cup of coffee.”

“You’re making demands now, huh?” He asks.

“It’s more like a suggestion than anything,” you teasingly yell from the back room, grabbing the remaining flowers for the display. Meanwhile, Jimin lingers behind in the main room, admiring the freshly cut flowers laid out on the counter ready to be made into floral arrangements.

You manage to recompose yourself from that one moment of weakness by taking a glance over at the cute doodles of artwork that line your office wall. They’re little bits of happiness that keep you calm and remind you that there’s light in your life, and he’s standing in the other room waiting for you to pop a very important question. 

Upon grabbing the necessary items, you make your way back into the store. You stop immediately in your tracks, nearly colliding into a solid figure at the sharp turn of the doorway. Your heart almost stops, but you shudder away before you could tip yourself over. 

Jimin stands in front of you with his hand extended out, clenching onto a steaming, white paper cup. 

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of me and coffee now,” he laughs, reaching out once again, “Only one of us bites.” 

“That’s for me?” You ask incredulously. 

He nods his head, “Yeah, of course, silly.” 

You take the drink from his hands, and before you can thank him, he chimes in. “It’s just how you like it. Black and full of caffeine.” 

You press your lips up against the cup, taking a sip and humming in satisfaction at the drops of heaven. “Thanks, but why? And how’d you know my coffee order? Don’t get me wrong, this is really nice, but…” 

“I saw how dead you looked yesterday,” he justifies cutting you off before you can ramble on. Honest, but harsh. 

You put the cup back on the counter and continue with your task at hand, and he trails behind you. 

“Thanks, that’s what every girl wants to hear,” you banter with all the sarcasm you can muster, pulling at the flower stems despite them already being placed exactly where you want them. 

“Girls like it when guys pay attention to the little details, don’t they?” He asks with a gleam in his irises. 

You look up at him briefly before averting his eyes and wiping clean the leaves on a near fiddle leaf tree, spraying food soil at its roots. 

“Love it,” you gulp wryly. 

Jimin takes note of how seemingly busy you are, so he walks around the shop, examining the new inventory of flowers. After making your round through the store, watering all the plants that need to be watered, you return to the disembodied zinnia on the counter, waiting to be arranged. 

The silence is refreshing until it isn’t. 

“Is the coffee good?” He queries. 

“Huh?” You stop what you’re doing to casually glance his way. His back is turned to you, but he seems overly invested in the rose display. 

“The coffee,” he repeats, back still turned.  

You look at the untouched cup at the edge of the table and smile to yourself. You didn’t notice it before, but there’s a red doodle that contrasts against the white paper cup, no doubt customized by Jimin himself. It’s hard to pick out what it is exactly, but you’d recognize the flowers of God any day. The ruffled petals and thin, straight stem are simply unmistakable. 

“Oh, yeah. It’s good,” you answer politely. 

“What’s your favorite kind of flower?” He asks curiously as if he’s playing a game of 21 questions. It’s a question you’ve answered numerous times before, but facts like these can easily slip through someone’s mind. 

“Easy, carnations,” you respond without any hesitation, pointing at the display in the right corner of the store when he turns around to look at you. He makes his way to the stand, eyeing the flowers. 

“They’re pretty,” he comments, pulling out one of the bouquets to examine as if he didn’t already know. 

You hum, and maybe the exhaustion is evident in your voice and your oddly scarce exchange of pleasantries. 

Jimin carries on with the small talk anyways. “You’ve been sleeping okay?” 

You snip away at the hard, green stems, tossing them into the trash beside you. Shrugging, you mindlessly answer. “Yeah, as much as a florist can during Valentine’s week.” You snicker with good spirit. 

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t rest well,” he scolds you all in good faith, eyes now scanning the small assortment of cards. You hum in affirmation. 

If anything, he should be telling that to your noisy neighbor who refuses to let you get a wink of sleep. 

A creak rings through the air as Jimin rotates the card stand, thumbing through the variety. “Do you have plans for Valentine’s Day by the way?” 

You can feel your hands clam up as they stop fiddling with the lemon leaves. Your heartbeat picks up, and you’re left winded by the question. You hide behind the hesitation, nervous as to where this may lead. How could you possibly play it cool when your crush asks you whether or not you’re busy on arguably the most romantic holiday of the year? 

Play it cool because remember, you loathe Valentine’s Day. 

Your hands fumble as you pick up the lemon leaves again, snipping at the branches nonchalantly. “Uh, no, not really, you?” you gulp. Your eyes are distracted, too fixed on the greenery. 

But you look up the moment Jimin approaches the counter with flowers in one hand and a card in another. 

“Oh, who are these for?” you feign innocence in your voice as you reach for the brown kraft paper and the roll of red ribbon. 

Jimin scratches the back of his neck, hesitating. “My girlfriend,” he mumbles, but it’s loud and clear, audible enough for you to apprehend like an echo in you ear.

“I don’t have much planned yet, but we’re probably going to grab dinner on Friday,” he shrugs with hands burrowed in his pockets. He shifts his weight on the balls of his feet, eyes focused on the gray specks of the ceramic tiles beneath him. “Something casual. I’m not really huge on the whole Valentine’s Day thing.” 

It seems like every man in your life paints you like a giant fool destined for humiliation. Of course the hopelessly hopeless romantic within you deluded yourself into believing that some Prince Charming would visit your flower shop in anticipation of seeing you. Of course the flowers that he buys everyday has to go somewhere, you just never expected that each and every morning at the crack of dawn, the flowers you carefully hand-pick and wrap with unconditional love would be sent off to his girlfriend. 

Of course you’re a huge idiot who isn’t destined for love. 

It almost hurts to plaster the tight lipped smile on your face when your heart is prickled with thorns like the roses in your hands. 

You lick your lips and painfully gulp the spit down your dry throat before you open your mouth again.

“Jimin?” 

“Yeah?” 

You pause. “You can’t give these to your girlfriend” 

His eyebrows furrow and his hands run through his hair. “What do you mean?”

“They’re white roses.” 

“So? She likes white flowers.” He doesn’t seem to get the point. 

You almost chuckle in his face, and you would have if your heart didn’t hurt so damn much. So you refrain. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that white flowers are meant for funerals?” 

His cheeks are dusted with a pink blush. He shakes his head no. “Uh, what do you suggest I give her then?” 

You sigh, looking at the hopeless man in front of you. “Do you love her?” Not even a second goes by before you ramble, not very eager to hear the answer. “You could uh- give her that fern you helped me carry earlier.” You walk back to the front display, keeping a safe distance to hide your woe, extending your arms out like a game show host revealing what’s hidden behind door #1. (Hint: it’s your heart). 

“Call it your love fern?” you shrug, laughing it off. 

“I think a bouquet is fine.” Jimin staggers behind you, checking out the other flower displays, opting for door #2. “How about the carnations you mentioned?” He pulls out a bouquet of variegated carnations painted with pink and red tips. “These are nice, don’t you think?” He looks at you curiously with doe eyes in await of your approval. 

Your mouth opens to interject, ready to digress into another lesson on the history of variegated carnations, but you bite your tongue back. 

Jimin spots your reluctance, but quickly puts it to rest. “Look, I don’t think she really cares about the meaning behind the flowers. You said these are your favorite, and you’re the expert right?”

You nod, unable to trust your voice. “Mhmm.” Even your hum cracks. “But uh, maybe the deep red ones would be more appropriate?” You cock your head to the side and quirk your eyebrow. 

“It’s fine, I swear” he reassures you, placing the bouquet on the counter before putting the white roses back in its stand. 

Your feet refuse to move as if they’re cemented to the ground, but Jimin stands there in front of you with rosy eyes, awaiting for you to wrap up the object of his affection in a pretty red bow. So how could you refuse?

You walk past the carnation display on the way to the counter, and pick up another bouquet. Pink and red variegated. “Here, these are a little more fresh. The buds are tighter, so in a few days, you’ll see them nice and big.” You smile, closed lipped. “Just in time for Valentine’s Day.” 

Jimin’s jaw loosens and his lips part. He knits his brow in a frown. “Uh, these aren’t actually meant for Valentine’s Day,” he says, running his hand through his perfectly imperfect raven hair. “She’s kind of mad at me right now,” he gives a mirthless chuckle while playing with his hands, “so I’m hoping I can make it up to her with this.” 

Ah, your favorite flowers are reduced to nothing but a gift of pity.

“She’d be crazy not to accept your apology,” you say in a soft voice, gritting your teeth behind your tense jaw, eyes fixated on the little nursling in your hold. With a soft hand, you unravel the kraft paper and delicately wrap it around the bouquet. The very one you picked up this morning and arranged the hour prior, wondering if you’ll be able to send it off to a loving home. 

Now you know for a fact that it’ll be in good hands. 

“Do you think she’d like it?” Jimin chirps in. 

It feels like your heart is on the threshold of bleeding out as he sends another prickle to the soft organ. Your concentration doesn’t even falter as you snip the ribbon. 

“I know she will.”

You tie the fabric into the prettiest bow you can muster and slide the gift of love across the glass counter. Jimin looks down at the beautifully wrapped flowers with an ear to ear smile on his face. “Thank you so much for the help, I really appreciate it.” 

“Just doing my job,” you remind him with a counterfeit smile, scanning the barcode at the back of the card. It’s a really cute card too. Sometimes I wonder how you put up with me then I remember I put up with you. So we’re even ❤️ 

You hate yourself for the fond smile you almost crack, masked behind the pained one you send his way. 

Jimin passes you a $20 bill and grabs his merchandise from the table. 

“She’s really lucky to have you,” you lament honestly with glistening eyes as he walks out the front door. 

He doesn’t catch a word you say, but he manages to shout back a “thank you!” and a “see you tomorrow!” before speeding out, setting off the bell at the top of the door without ever looking back at your dejected figured. 

You’re left alone to finish the rest of the work day, surrounded by none other than the sickly, sweet scent of seeded eucalyptus and baby’s breath, all while taking in the putrid sight of variegated carnations. 

They say that you are your worst enemy, and they are 110% correct on the matter. You don’t know why you would think that you’d have a good day on the basis of your neighbor having a crummy one. It’s not like there’s some kind of transfer of energy. It’s been proven to you time and time again that divine intervention and karmic justice just aren’t real, and apparently, neither is science. Otherwise, by that logic, you’d have a superb day. 

You would have slept through last night and woken up to a pretty pink sunrise painted across the sky— nothing but peace. To the chirping of birds in the distance and to the passing of cars on an empty street. You would have had enough time to prepare a proper breakfast— pancakes, eggs, bacon, and maybe even a nice cup of hot chocolate. Not a measly cup of black coffee to keep you awake for the rest of the busy day. You would have had a nice chat with Jimin at the flower shop about the capitalistic corruption of Valentine’s Day while he’d try to convince you otherwise. He’d prove you wrong, and you would have walked home with a blooming garden in your heart. 

But science is bullshit and the transfer of energy is a complete lie— photosynthesis being the only exception. The only thing you got out of today was a huge migraine and a withering blossom in your chest. 

So just when you think that the day could not get any worse, it absolutely does. 

You can probably blame the poor mindset you boxed yourself in— having a cynical outlook on love and life because of the dreaded upcoming holiday. Maybe it was because your crush just stomped all over your garden and plucked the flowers to give to some other girl. Or, you can put the blame on past you, the big freaking idiot who previously stripped off her bed sheets at 6:30 in the morning in hopes of being productive by doing weeks of piled up laundry. At this point, all you want to do is curl up in a warm bed, too exhausted by the trials and tribulations of life, but you can’t even give yourself the satisfaction of that because you thought you were some kind of changed woman who could manage her stupid laundry.

Newsflash, you’re not. 

The naked mattress in the corner of your apartment mocks you, so grudgingly, you take your laundry basket down to the laundry room for your most hated chore. With heavy steps, you trudge through the cold, cement basement. It’s dark and dingy down there. A little scary too, given the flickering lightbulb at the end of the hallway. Nevertheless, you march through the doors and into the rumbling alcove. 

What you find in there is startling, yet you can’t say that you’re surprised seeing that this occurrence is far from rare. You almost consider walking back upstairs and knocking on your floormate’s door, asking him if he’d be willing to do your laundry in exchange for $5 just so you don’t have to sit there, listening to some couple make out in the back corner.

Apparently, everyone in the world is foolishly in love except for you. 

You crank up the volume a little louder so your cheap headphones can drown out the sound of them locking lips with one another, but the poor quality does absolutely nothing for your abused ears. The boisterous public display of affection is deafening over the sound of your “Wallowing in Self Pity” playlist. 

You’re only capable of catching a brief glance in their direction before gagging and veering off. She’s sitting atop of the washing machine as he stands between her parted legs. They’re so lost in their own world that they don’t even notice your presence. 

Out of respect for yourself and the horny couple, you choose to occupy a washing machine at the opposite corner of the laundry room. But perhaps you can save yourself the irritation as well as the $5 in your wallet because you can hear their hushed whispers. They’ve separated themselves long enough for the guy to convince her to move to a more private location. Although she still leeches herself onto his neck, he’s attentive enough to know that they aren’t alone. He picks her up and drags her out of the laundry room with her legs wrapped around his waist, unwilling to part from him as if holding his hand simply isn’t enough. 

You roll your eyes, thankful for the quietude and the money you’ve saved yourself, but as you sit alone in the drafty basement, doing the chore you hate the most, you can’t help but think how much better it would be to do it with someone else at your side. 

Somehow you’re convinced that crossing paths with Jeongguk in the hallway is fated after thinking about him moments prior. Because it’s very uncommon for that boy to leave his apartment, cooping up all day long with his video games, only to catch a breath of fresh air for his nightly gym sessions. When you see him locking up his apartment door, you offer him $5 anyways just out of the kindness of your heart. He could probably use the money more than you anyways. 

Although you didn’t have any intention of doing a good deed today, karma still finds a way to punish you. As always, it’s bullshit. 

Upon entering your empty apartment, the space is already filled with the sonorous sounds of orchestral music. Violins, violas, cellos, flutes, oboes, and harps all performing in perfect harmony. It’s played through the walls, coming from none other than the speakers of your beloved neighbor. You wouldn’t mind the soothing classical melodies to cure your migraine so long it’s accompanied by white noise. But your neighbor’s laughter rings above the music as you can hear him count “1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3” in a triple metre. 

You know that he’s not alone because there’s also another voice laughing alongside him. The same one you’ve grown accustomed to over the months. Her high pitched squeals are unmistakable as they greatly resemble other sounds you’ve heard come from her mouth on many unfortunate nights. So you can safely assume that your neighbor and his not-girlfriend made up with one another already—

“Look at me, not at your feet!” 

“I don’t know where to put them!” 

“You’re stepping on my toes!”

“Sorry!” 

“Oh yeah, you’ll be sorry!” 

It’s hard to picture what’s happening behind the wall when you don’t have faces to match with the voices. But you don’t really need it when their bed slat creaks beneath their weight and their headboard slams against your shared wall. Not when her yelps erupt as a result of the tickle fest they’re currently immersed in. The sounds are vivid enough for you to know much more than you need to know. It almost feels like you’re intruding on an intimate moment that’s not meant for your eyes, let alone your ears. 

Meanwhile, as you struggle to tuck the fitted sheets beneath the four corners of your mattress, you wonder whether it’s worth it to leave the apartment again after such a hard day. Of course for the sole purpose of avoiding a home made porn video being filmed in the process. 

Maybe it’s not too late, and you can still catch up to Jeongguk. You could head to the gym and snatch back the $5 you generously handed him because the more you think about it, the more you believe that someone owes you for your miserable time spent in this apartment complex. But you can’t take your anger out on the poor boy from down the hall when he doesn’t deserve it. 

The sanctuary of your bed calls your name like a siren, so instead, you do what you’re forced to always do— plug in your cheap headphones, blare out some music, and move on with your day. 

And it works for the most part. 

You’re able to successfully put on your bed sheets after struggling to play a big game of tug of war with your mattress. Despite the internal push and pull, you also will yourself to do adult things like tidying up the studio, making the space somewhat habitable for humans. By 9pm, you can finally sit down and enjoy a nice, hot meal. However, you’re forced to keep your headphones on because your neighbor’s not-girlfriend decided that she couldn’t go a single day without her not-boyfriend’s dick in her mouth. 

You swear you’re going to ask him tonight why he hasn’t made it official because it’s clear as day that they’re in love with one another. You know that you definitely would be if someone offered you oral every single day. Unfortunately, nobody’s offering. Thus, you’re forced to live vicariously. 

So as midnight approaches, and the moon reaches its apex, you settle into bed with a book in hand, ready to suffer through the night. It’s difficult to concentrate on the text when your music is blasting, but you suppose it’s better to listen to lo-fi hip hop beats as opposed to the scream of “daddy” over and over and over… 

Although you applaud her for her shamelessness, you would still prefer if she could keep to herself.

Thankfully, these moments are only temporary. 

With your eyes squeezed shut, you let out a lethargic yawn. Looking over at your nightstand, you spot your ticking alarm clock. It’s nearing 1 in the morning, and you decide that you’re exhausted. Well, you’ve decided that long ago, but going to bed before midnight is admitting defeat against your own body. Nevertheless, no matter how tired you are, you know in the back of your mind that there’s no way you could have dozed off with your neighbors going on a Netflix binge with speakers fully blaring audio from The Office. It’s as if they don’t know what headphones are. 

But after “one more episode” and a disgustingly long makeout session, you can hear the shuffle of feet across the floor boards and the turning of the lock. 

It’s nearly 2 am, and the radiator hisses. It’s quiet. 

But then that’s when you hear it like clockwork. The delicate hum before the pleasant tune. Tonight, it’s not a song you’re familiar with. Something about the universe moving and happiness that’s meant to be. Mentions of penicillium and a calico cat? There’s lots of talk about letting someone love you, and that’s when it really hits you in the gut. You’re not so sure about the song, but as always, it sounds pretty. It’s not typical to call a guy’s voice beautiful, but it is what it is. It’s serene, and it’s the promise of tomorrow. It’s something you wish that would never stop. 

But of course all good things come to an end. 

There’s a purposeful knock against the wall which startles you. “Hey, I know you’re up. How’d your day go?” Your neighbor asks, breaking the silence and dragging your attention towards his voice once again. 

You tug your headphones off and walk to the other side of the apartment to lay your book down on the desk, gracefully avoiding anything in your wake because your apartment is finally clean.

“You know, sometimes I wish you would catch me on my good days so I wouldn’t have to tell you such sad stories.” A wary smile surfaces your lips. 

“Why, what happened today?” He asks with concern laced in every syllable. “Did you take my advice?” 

You climb back into bed, pulling your covers over your torso. Sometimes you feel bad about how many silent complaints you have about your neighbor when he’s actually a really nice guy. He just lacks the proper etiquette knowing that the walls are paper thin.

“IIIIIII tried to.” You drag out the vowel, hesitant to recall the embarrassing story. 

“Yeah, and how’d it go?” 

“He doesn’t like me back,” you say plainly after a moment’s reflection. 

Your neighbor scoffs. “He’s an idiot then.” 

You try to fight back the smile because as untrue as it is, Jimin is anything but an idiot. But it’s comforting to know that someone has your back, defending you in all your honor. 

This time, you genuinely chuckle. “It’s not that.... He uh, actually has a girlfriend.” It hurts to admit it out loud. “And I’m sure she’s lovely if he likes her that much.” 

“Like I said, he’s an idiot for losing out on the best thing in his life.” 

It’s impossible for you to fight back this bashful smile because it makes your heart flutter. This may be the first time you’ve felt good about yourself this whole day. 

“Thanks, but I don’t know about that though—” 

He interrupts you, “Come on, don’t say that. You’re not giving yourself enough credit.” 

You shake your head in disbelief, “You’ve never even met me, and you don’t even know what I look like.” You roll your eyes, but a chuckle unintentionally falls from your lips. 

“It’s not about what’s on the outside, okay? I already know you’re beautiful because that’s what you are on the inside.” 

“Shut up, that’s so cheesy.” You flip over on your bed and dig your face into the pillow, flustered by his kind words. There’s absolutely no way people this nice exist in this world. “I could be a troll or a vampire or something for all you know.” 

“Vampires are kinda hot. Haven’t you seen Twilight?” He banters. “And I’m sure this guy isn’t even all that great. Like, tell me something you hate about him.” 

Your hands cover your mouth, stifling a laugh. “I’m not gonna hate on him because he doesn’t like me back. It’s just the reality of it. Besides, he’s perfect.” You roll your eyes, annoyed by how flawless Jimin is in your eyes. 

Your neighbor prods at you. “I reaaallly doubt that. There has to be something. Not even a pet peeve? Maybe he’s chronically late to everything? Sings out loud in a quiet place? Has a super annoying laugh?” 

“Yes, yes, and no.” You flip your pillow over to the cold side and settle in to lie in a more comfortable position, slipping your hand beneath the cushion. “I can excuse the lateness,” you lick your chapped lips. “He also sings like an angel, and his laugh is really endearing. He does this thing where he laughs with his whole body, and he falls over every time. I like it because I know he’s at his happiest then,” you remember zealously.

“Damn, I guess I’m just projecting my own flaws now, huh?” You can hear him snort from laughter, rolling his neck and cracking the joints in his body, and then the click of his knuckles, 10 of them, one after another. 

“Ugh,” you scrunch your nose, “Don’t do that. He does it too, and I guess that’s the only thing he does that really gets to me.” 

Your neighbor cracks another joint somewhere on his body just to annoy you, and you cringe. “See, now we’re talking.” 

“I was gonna tell you that you sing well too and that I like your laugh, but maybe I’ll have to reconsider,” you taunt. “But still, you shouldn’t put yourself down for the things that show off your happiness.” 

The bed creaks from the other side. He must have switched positions for that to happen. “Thanks,” he offers. His voice is muffled, face most likely pressed up against his own pillow. “How about you tell me about the things you like about him?” 

“What? Are you trying to wound me?” You ask, slightly hurt. 

He scoffs, “No, I’m trying to prove a point here. So, tell me.” He implores like this is some kind of couple’s therapy session. Apparently, without your other half. 

As moonlight filters through your curtains and the cars whiz by on the empty street below you, you consider all the things you love and appreciate about Jimin. 

“I love how selfless he is. He’s caring and attentive... He’ll know when I’m tired and he’ll offer me coffee. He also scolds me for sleeping late and he lifts my burdens for me, even when I don’t ask him to.” You close your eyes in retrospect of Jimin and all the good things in life that he embodies. “It’s not even the things that he does for me that make me like him.” 

Your neighbor hums, letting you continue. 

“I guess it’s the principle that’s important.” You play with the sleeves of your sweatshirt, pulling on the edges to give yourself some comfort. “There are people in this world who aren’t… the nicest? I guess. And… he’s one of the purest people I know. It’s like he goes the extra mile to make sure I’m happy… and healthy.” You take a deep sigh before your mind wanders to the darker parts of your brain. “But I also know he treats everyone else like that too. Because he’s that nice. So... I guess I should have seen it coming that I wasn’t so special anyways,” you recall with tears welling up in the brim of your eyes and a knot tightening in your throat. 

“Don’t say that, you’re one of a kind,” he assures you sternly, “What’s his name? I’ll go beat him up right now.” 

You give a bitter laugh, wiping away at your eyes with the back of your hands. 

“My point is that there are other guys out there who are just as caring. And they should make you feel special because you are, and it’s what you deserve. So if the next guy who comes along doesn’t treat you that way, I will beat his ass, okay?” He says in the most nonthreatening voice ever.

You chortle, “Okay, yeah, sure.” You’re not totally convinced of that. 

“You’re probably right, I don’t want to fight and embarrass myself after promising you that,” he giggles. 

“I appreciate the sentiment though.” Earnestly, you do. You don’t know many guys who are this nice, Jimin being the exception. “How ‘bout you though? It sounds like you made up with your not-girlfriend? I hope that wasn’t you in the laundry room earlier,” you tease, deflecting the attention away from you with a raised voice. 

He gladly takes the bait. “Oh shit, that was you? I’m so sorry.” He rolls around the bed in a fit of sweet laughter, and the slat creaks. “And yeah, we did,” he breathes out with a shallow huff after regaining composure. He sounds nonchalant about it. 

“You don’t sound very happy?” 

“No, I am,” he deadpans. 

You wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. “Can you tell me what it is that you like about her?” You ask. 

He doesn’t answer immediately like you’d expect, but he’s dwelling on the answer. 

“I love how kind hearted she is,” he thinks out loud. “She’s a natural nurturer.” 

You can hear the smile in his voice, and you can’t help but reciprocate because of how pure that is. 

“Like... she’s always so bright, and…” he stops. “I just don’t know how to explain it. You’d have to meet her to know what I mean.” 

“Yeah you should invite me over so I can meet her.” You both chuckle knowing that you should meet one another before meeting his fuck buddy. 

“I think you’d like her actually. She has this beautiful soul… I- I don’t even know. She just sees the best in everyone. I know that she probably has her own struggles, but I don’t think she’ll ever let anyone know about them,” he mulls over, going on a tangent. 

“Why’s that?” You curl up on your side, hugging your pillow like you do during every conversation with him. It’s as if he’s recalling a bedtime story for you. You let out another yawn, and although you’re on the verge of falling asleep, you stay up a little longer just to hear him talk. 

“I’m not so sure why… I guess I love her and hate her for this...” He reflects. 

You hum, acknowledging him while urging him to continue his train of thought. 

“I don’t know... but she’s the type to suffer in silence for the sake of seeing other people around her smile. And… I don’t think she’ll ever admit when she’s hurt or when she needs help. She puts others before herself. Like, she’s so hellbent on putting on a happy face so that others can be happy too.” 

You nod to yourself, understanding what he means with every word. 

“And It’s not like she fakes her happiness or anything,” he continues as if clarification is needed. “She’s just… such a joy to be around. She makes everyone feel welcomed… and comfortable… And when she’s really happy, like genuinely happy, it feels like everything is right in the world.” 

You can tell he has a big, doting smile on his face. One simply cannot talk about a love like this and not smile. 

“I only wish that she’d be vulnerable with me so I can make her world a little brighter too.” 

“That’s really sweet, and also, I lowkey feel attacked right now,” you let out a dry chuckle. 

“Sorry,” he laughs. “But I think that’s why you two would get along well.” 

“Set up a date, and I’ll come over,” you joke with raised brows. 

“Hmm… I’ll have to think about it,” he teases. “Oh, but uhm... if we’re still on the conversation of what I like about her, physically, I love her smile. I swear to God I stopped in my tracks the first time I saw her… and it still happens every time.” 

“That’s cute,” you smile fondly. 

“When she looks at me, I think the whole world stops for a second because I can actually feel myself get vertigo,” he giggles innocently. “And she’s also got this super adorable snort-laugh that never fails to bring out the best in me. God, it’s beyond cute, you don’t even know.” 

“It sounds like you’re in love,” you suggest, curling up tighter into a ball, squeezing at your pillow. “I don’t see why you haven’t made it official yet.” 

The pause is filled by the whirring of the radiator and the ticking of the clock. 

“Yeah… I don’t know either.” 

Waking up, you find out that going to bed with a broken heart is a little easier than going to bed with a hopeful one. Perhaps it’s the emotional exhaustion that puts you to rest, but it doesn’t mean you’re any less fatigued. All your efforts are put into your work, and in a way, tending to flowers has served as a distraction from the wilting ones that reside in your chest. 

When in reality, you should find a way to revive those instead. 

But as Jimin stands before you, you can’t resist the shriveled petals that land in the pit of your stomach like cherry blossoms in the midst of spring. You really don’t know how you manage to bear discourse about Valentine’s Day when he’s unknowingly sitting there with wide eyes, listening to you talk about unreciprocated love that’s so obviously directed towards him. 

“You mean to tell me that you read romance novels and watch rom-coms, but you hate the most romantic holiday of the year?” 

“Exactly,” you nod as if it’s indisputable. 

He gives you a questioning look with a crease on his forehead and lips pressed together in a straight line. “Make it make sense,” he challenges.

You finish chewing on the forkful of salad you popped into your mouth before answering. “Can I rant about it?” 

Jimin gives you the go ahead and you continue, “I don’t think you understand how much of a die-hard hopeless romantic I am.” 

“Actually, I think I do,” he scoffs and raises his shoulders confidently with eyes closed as if it’s a matter of fact. “That doesn’t prove your point though,” he counters. 

You put your hand up, motioning him to stop interrupting, “Let me finish.” 

Jimin shrugs and grins from across the counter, allowing you to proceed. 

“When I love something, I put my heart and soul into it. I believe in passion, chivalry, and true love.” He hums in agreement as you count down each item with your fingers as if it’s an unofficial list of all the things that encompass a hopeless romantic. “And for me, Valentine’s Day is a poor excuse to spend money and show off all the things you’ve received from your significant other.” 

“That’s valid,” Jimin nods, agreeing while munching on his fries. 

“Like, why spoil someone on this particular day? What happens during the other 364 days?” You spew. 

Jimin mouths “365,” correcting you on the technicalities of a leap year. 

You click your tongue, moving on to the point. “Are they not cherished for the rest of the year? I would hope that my boyfriend makes me feel special for more than a single night.” Your forehead creases, too livid at this point to even realize how sadly single you sound. 

You’re too busy ranting, accidentally speaking over Jimin to hear him reassure you that you are special. “Also there’s just so much pressure to make the night special, as if they have to plan something, otherwise they’re not the ‘perfect couple’ or the ‘perfect man.’” You emphasize with air quotes. 

“I felt that one,” he chuckles, shaking his head. 

“You see my point now?” You acknowledge him sullenly. There’s a tug on your heartstrings at the mention of his girlfriend, but you drive your point forward in hopes of changing the direction of topics. You don’t even want to think about whether or not he’s made plans with his girlfriend yet. 

“And what’s the deal with chocolates?” You yell, completely frustrated, throwing your arms up. “They’re totally overpriced. And cards? Cheesy and terrible. My Instagram feed? Flooded with PDA, and it's a big stab at singles like me.” You enunciate angrily, driving your fork harshly into your salad once again. 

He laughs and nearly falls off the stool he’s sat on top of before swiftly catching himself. You snicker at his unadulterated cuteness. 

“How ‘bout flowers?” He questions with ketchup lingering on the corner of his mouth. 

Picking up a napkin from the edge of the counter, you mindlessly reach across to wipe at his lips, still in the process of ranting. “Don’t get me started on flowers,” you shake your head, folding up the napkin on the table. Jimin smiles at you as your eyes train on the fork that digs through your salad, stabbing into the poor vegetables. “Florists overcharge for them, and I hate it because I didn’t get into this business for the purpose of cheating people out of their money.” At this point, you’re rolling your eyes, seething at the thought of Valentine’s Day. 

“Why’d you get into the business then?” He asks, silently offering his fries to you, the ones you’ve been eyeing ever since he revealed his lunch. 

“Because I love flowers,” you say plain as day, reaching to grab a fry. “Because they make me happy, and when I send them off to someone, I know it’ll make their day a little brighter too.”

You wave the fry around in the air before sticking it in your mouth. Capping off your empty bowl of salad, you don’t seem to notice how Jimin looks at you and the understated beauty you exude. 

“It’s cheesy, I know! You don’t have to look at me like I’m crazy,” you whine, briefly looking up at him with round eyes, turning around to toss your garbage. 

Jimin flashes you a big, toothy smile, “No, you’re not crazy. You’re just... exactly what I thought you were.” His voice is low, almost as if he’s thinking to himself. As if they’re words you’re not meant to hear. 

“Thanks? I think,” you giggle, unsure what he means. “Are you saying I’m predictable?” You inquire.

“I meant refreshing.” The crinkles at the corners of his eyes form as he grins. “I’m just trying to figure out why you don’t have a date for Valentine’s Day.” 

“First of all, I don’t need a date,” you say in defense, teasingly offended. 

“I know that, and you know what I mean. But you deserve to be treated like you’re speー” 

“Second of all, I do have one.” 

“Oh. You do?” He asks, creasing his brows and biting his plush lips. 

“Yeah, with myself,” you jest with a smile, elbows resting on the counter with hands cupping your face. 

Jimin’s chest deflates with an exhale, finally letting out the breath he’s been holding. “What, are you gonna watch The Notebook until you cry?” He pokes at your shoulder like a tease. 

“I’m not that predictable,” you eye him with a gleam in your iris, fully knowing that it is the case. “But maybe,” you affirm with a sly smirk, “after I close up the shop at midnight though.” 

“Knew it,” he scoffs. “But why are you closing so late? You should go home early so you can cry and watch The Notebook.”

“Mmm.” You hum, standing up from your stool and turning to hide the downturn of your lips. Running a rag underneath the faucet, you turn to wipe down the counter free of any crumbs. Jimin lifts his elbow up as you glide the cloth across the glass until it’s squeaky clean. “Let’s not forget that it’s Valentine’s Day, and I run a flower shop, Jimin. People are going to come by for a bouquet until the last second.” You exasperate, shaking your head in disapproval of all the last minute shoppers. 

“You can’t get anyone else to lock up?” He suggests. 

“They’ll hate me forever if I force them to work until midnight,” you reason, “Besides, it’s not like they’re single, so it’s fine. I can do it myself.” 

“I really think you should be resting though. You haven’t been sleeping well lately, right?” He asks with concern in his intonation. 

“I can take care of myself, I promise. I’m gonna treat myself after work anyways.” You do a little dance that consists of shimmying your shoulders and bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet. 

He smiles at you endearingly with wide eyes, “I don’t think crying to The Notebook is a form of treating yourself.” He repeats as if the joke will never die. 

You shake your head and click your tongue exclaiming, “If you must know, I’m gonna bake cookies.” 

“Are you gonna share with me?” He pleads. 

Your tongue pokes at your inner cheek as if you’re thinking about it. “Hmm, I don’t know. I might eat them all in one night.” Your lips purse in a taunt. 

His mouth forms a pout, and you’re forced to give in to him and his bright puppy dog eyes. 

“Ugh, fine, but only because you asked so nicely, I guess I can make some extras,” you groan, pressing your lips together straight like an arrow. You nudge his shoulder with your own despite the squeeze at your heart and the softening of your eyes, “For you and your girlfriend.” 

It’s not like you had to mention it. But it’s been on your mind since yesterday, and you’re sure that the only way to fix a broken heart is to learn to accept it. Even if it means plucking out the thorns that are lodged in your heart until it feels numb. Empty and devoid of life. 

“Girlfrie- oh, right, right. That’d be nice,” he sputters out, body stiffening, “Butー”

“Maybe I can bake them Thursday night?” You offer. “So you can pick them up on Friday if you buy flowers for her?” Your eyes blink in a failed attempt to wink. 

Jimin stifles a laugh at your pitiful endeavor. It’s really pathetic how hard you try, pretending that you’re not hurt right in front of the guy who stormed into your garden. 

But you suppose flowers can’t grow without a little bit of downpour. 

He licks his lips, and his smile falters. “Riiight, but it’s okay, you should enjoy your cookies on Friday night because I’m not sure I’ll be around to buy flowers that day anyways.” 

“What do you mean?” You ask, perplexed, head cocked to the side. 

“Uh, don’t worry about it, okay?” He says, brushing it off before taking a look at his watch. “I have to head back to work though, my break is almost ending.” You watch him carefully with narrowing eyes as he collects his belongings, scrambling to head out the door. With the exit half opened, he turns around to bid you goodbye. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” 

The bell chimes and he’s out of sight. 

You can’t even process his words because you’re too busy staring at the exit trying to figure out what the hell just happened. 

Adulthood is just an endless cycle of sleeping and working, but it seems like you’re lacking in the former activity seeing that all you do is work. In the final stretch of Valentine’s Day, with a few more days to go, you’re just about ready to crash and burn. 

Upon entering your quiet apartment tonight, you fail to do anything productive. You nose dive into bed and curl up into a cocoon at the strike of 10 pm. Somehow, you don’t even care enough to tug off your jeans or remove your smudged makeup. You’re ready to accept the consequences of bad skin and a stained pillowcase because the only thing that matters is that you knock out the moment your head hits the soft linen. There’s no time to replay the events of today or plan for tomorrow when your eyelids weigh you down into a deep slumber. 

There’s not a single thing that can spur you. Not even the shining of the moonlight over your profile or the rhythmic whizzing of cars on the empty street beneath you. Even when there’s a police siren ringing in the distance or a rumble from a descending airplane in the atmosphere above you, you don’t bat an eye. You can’t even hear the hum of the rusty pipelines when your neighbor hops into the shower at the breach of dawn. Even the whirring radiator and the ticking clock blurs into nothing but white noise. 

They’re all there to keep you company as you lie down in a bed of withered roses. To offer you comfort in your barren Renaissance garden. 

You can’t seem to put your finger on it, but you wake up feeling like it’s the best night of rest you’ve gotten in the last week despite it being a short lived slumber. It’s definitely the most consistent night of sleep you’ve had in a while. And even though you went to bed without dinner, it didn’t hinder your sleep whatsoever. It only means that you can eat a full breakfast to power through the day. 

And powering through is what you do best. 

Apparently, the world is up against you because you can’t remember the last time you even got to sit down. You’re constantly on your feet, attending to customers and fulfilling orders. There’s no time to breathe even when you’re literally enclosed in a greenhouse. There’s always something to do, and stopping to take a break means slowing down the process. It’s not an option you want to take. 

At the end of each day, you’re wobbling back home with sore muscles and blurred vision. Your ability to function is beyond your own imagination. Your definition of “functioning” has diminished to standing on your own two feet although that still bears a challenge for you. 

The sustenance in your body is nearly nonexistent, especially because you’ve been neglecting your self-care. Typically, you don’t think about eating on the job. It’s honestly not on your mind because there are only two things that occupy your brain space: (1) Work and (2) Jimin. 

Somehow, Jimin takes better care of you than you do yourself. And without him around, you’re a walking corpse. He’s always providing you with lunch and snacks, leaving you sticky notes with reminders to hydrate yourself. You didn’t realize that you needed him this much to remind you of the simple tasks like drinking or eating or… smiling.

Sometimes he draws cute flowers or scribbles plant puns on the post-it notes, sticking them onto obscure places that are hard for you to find. Your favorite one being the time he wrote “I love it when you call me big poppy.” 

He claims that the notes are designed to make you laugh, even for the few that are not very funny. They definitely do brighten your day, especially when you have the ephemeral chance to glance at them hanging up above your desk in the back office. Smiling at the itty-bitty illustrations has become second nature to you. When you’re going through a rough day, aka everyday, and you’re in need of a breather, you wander into the back room to pace around, only to come face to face with a kaleidoscope of doodled butterflies spanned across a string of rainbow post it notes.

He once drew a sunflower and said something cheesy about how your laughter is the embodiment of sunshine— how it would be a crime against the flora population if you were to go a day without laughter. 

It was corny and far from being right, but it was so perfectly Jimin. 

When he does stupid shit like that, it makes you feel like the biggest lovesick idiot in the world. In your naive past, you thought that the smiles he sent your way were ones reserved for you and only you. You were convinced that the shameless flirting was a silent mechanism used to express his inclination towards you. You assumed that the daily visits to your flower shop were formidable attempts to get to know you better. A little part of you hoped that the songs he shared with you equated to sharing a piece of his heart. 

You absolutely were sharing. You just didn’t realize that you’d be sharing with someone else. 

So when Jimin consigns adorable puns that melt your heart, and he stops by with a cup of coffee, just know that they’re acts of friendship. When he spends his lunch breaks at the flower shop and sings songs that remind him of you, he’s coming from a place of kindness, not attraction. 

It is true that Jimin’s your sunshine, but it’s also a fundamental principle to botanists that too much of something is bad enough, and too much of nothing is just as tough. And deceiving yourself into believing that he was all that you needed had scorched up all the flowers in your garden. 

The drought he put you in didn’t prepare you enough for the brewing storm. 

It pains you to say that you need him more than he needs you because even if he isn’t romantically interested in you, you would have hoped that he’d stick around as a friend. His waning presence leads you to believe that he’s simply not interested. 

Maybe you were too invested in what could have been between the two of you, you failed to see what was right there in plain sight. 

Somehow, you still wonder if he thinks about you as much as you think about him. And it’s pathetic granted you’re incredibly busy with work and your own crippling health. Yet thoughts of him still pop up throughout the day more than you would like. No matter how much you want to forget about your infatuation, you simply can’t will him away because of how often his beautiful face flashes before your eyes. You want to push him to the back of your mind, but whether you’re in need of a breather during your hectic schedule, admiring his stupid puns and butterfly mosaics, or you’re in need of some company in your eerily quiet apartment, doing laundry or having a meal all to yourself, you still can’t get the sound of his sweet laughter out of your head. 

You don’t know how it’s possible, but you manage to close up shop long before midnight. It’s a blessing and a curse because you are absolutely wiped out. Not only are you mentally checked out, but ironically, your flower shop is destitute of flowers, completely sold out from the holiday. As you clean up the barren space, you can’t help but feel as if a big weight has been lifted off your shoulders. The stress of Valentine’s Day is over, and you can finally go home, lie in bed with a tray of cookies, and enjoy the beauty that is Ryan Gosling. 

You even consider closing the store all of tomorrow because you need the day off to recharge. So as you print out and paste your notice on the glass door, you’re dumbfounded to come across a sliver of paper that’s already attached on the other side. Opening up the door and letting in a gust of cold air breeze by you, you remove the sticky note that’s been unknowingly attached to your entrance. 

Not a daisy goes by that I don’t think of you.

The smile that tugs on your lips grapples against the ache in your heart. Quickly, the fond smile melts into one of hurt and disappointment. Your left hand balls into a tight fist, marring crescent moon shapes into your palms. Meanwhile, your right hand delicately fiddles with the tiny square between your fingers, debating whether or not you should crumple up the paper and toss it away to be long forgotten. You’ve never been so confused about your feelings until Park Jimin came into your life, but you tuck the little daisy doodle into the pocket of your coat with a sigh. 

With every passing year, Valentine’s Day becomes a little more bearable than the previous. Tonight feels like any other night, but better. You’ve come to accept that if there isn’t someone who can make you feel special, you might as well do it yourself. 

Making a meal for you that doesn’t consist of ramen or 5 minute rice while dimming the lights and sparking up some candles is undeniably part of the healing process. And that’s what tonight mainly consists of. It’s all about love and self-care. 

With your laptop perched on top of your dinner table and your Netflix queue lined up, you mindlessly mix at your wet and dry ingredients with a wooden spoon. Nothing has made you feel more at ease than the comfort of watching your favorite movie on repeat and the sweet taste of raw cookie dough on your tongue. Sometimes it’s the simple things in life that can put a smile on your face. 

As you wait for your cookies to bake, you settle into bed with your legs crossed and back pressed against the headboard. Laughter from the speakers of your laptop fill the space, and you can’t help but laugh along with the characters, disrupting the peaceful ambiance of your apartment complex. The rumble of your laughter subsides, and the movie rolls on from scene to scene. 

Your ears perk up like Pavlov’s dog when the oven goes off. You turn your head so quickly you nearly get whiplash, but it’s all worth it for the love of chocolate chip cookies. The aroma of sugar is enough to will yourself out of bed and conveniently press pause on Ryan Gosling’s charming face. 

Pulling on your oven mitts to retrieve the hot platter, your body begins to sway around to the sudden echo of music. The soft guitar strums reverberate through the walls and against the vacant space of your studio. Your body stops moving to the acoustics when you realize where the noise is coming from. Looking up, your eyes bore into the eggshell walls as if you can see through it. But you soon space out, focusing on the vibrations of the nylon strings instead. 

The song fades out and the quietude breaks you out of your reverie. You blink in confusion, trying to remember the last time you heard from your neighbor. Although you haven’t spent much time in your apartment in the past week, you miss the late night chats with him. Lately, you’ve been knocking out as soon as your head hits the pillow for some much needed rest. You haven’t heard his voice in forever, and especially not his angelic singing voice. Even tonight he refrains from singing in place of just practicing his guitar. 

It’s a bit out of the ordinary. 

His side of the wall is surprisingly quiet tonight. You would have expected him to be out and about with his girlfriend, but at this point of the night, they would have been jumping at each other's bones. Yet the gentle patter of footsteps and the lack of banging would suggest that he’s flying solo tonight. 

Despite your curiosity, you’re not sure whether or not you’d want to bring it up in case it reopens some wounds. You think it’s best to leave it alone for the time being until he’s ready to come to you instead. 

So as you proceed with bingeing your movies, there’s something in the back of your mind that still distracts you. It’s literally a crime that you’ve sat through 2 hours of The Notebook, yet you haven’t shed a single tear because you’re not even focused on the film in front of you. Rather, you’re thinking long and hard about the last time you heard your neighbor laugh in sincerity. 

You really couldn’t care any less about the end credits that roll in front of you. Rather, with your chin propped up in the palm of your hands, you listen intently to what’s happening on the other side of the wall. It’s bizarrely quiet, aside from the sad symphony of string instruments that ring in the background of the ending credits. 

When your screen turns black, you shut off your laptop and stow it away, knowing in your heart that you’re no longer in the mood for a romantic movie marathon. You make your way into your kitchen and reach for the cookies that have cooled off by now. But somehow, it feels wrong to sit here in enjoyment of your own company. Yet at the same time, this batch of cookies was the only thing you were looking forward to all week. 

Nothing seems to satisfy you. 

The only desire that creeps upon you is the desire to spend the night with someone else by your side. Frankly, it’s stupid because you know that you don’t need a man, and even the whole world knows that you don’t need one. Especially not on Valentine’s Day because you’ve made it abundantly clear that you hate February 14th with every fibre of your being.

However, the idea of having a friend at your side doesn’t seem so bad at this point. 

You transfer all the cookies from the tray onto a smaller plate, arranging the delectable morsels into a presentable fashion. 

With your slippers on, you make your way out of your apartment, letting the door close softly behind you. Standing in front of your neighbor’s abode, you nervously shift your weight on the heels of your feet. Midnight is approaching, and you wouldn’t want to disrupt his night like this, but it just feels right to knock on his door and offer your company. Just to check up on him because perhaps he’s in need of some companionship just like you. And who wouldn’t want some chocolate chip cookies? Baked with 80% sugar and 100% love. 

Mustering up all the courage in your body, your hand comes up in a tight fist, knocking at the wooden door. You wait a moment, but to your dismay, there’s no evidence of movement on the other side of the partition. You would have heard his footsteps by now, and perhaps the turning of the deadbolt, but it’s dead silent. 

Perhaps he didn’t hear you, so you knock a little harder this time.

Nothing. 

As you stand outside, lost in naivety, you wonder whether you should try to make a fool of yourself and knock again. It’s been a good 5 minutes of you debating between speaking up to get his attention or giving up and retreating to your studio in embarrassment. Then you mentally facepalm yourself remembering that it’s incredibly rude of you to drop by without any kind of warning. 

But still, you had his best interests in mind. 

You think that the third time’s the charm, so in a last attempt, you knock with full force. 

“Uhh, hey!” Your voice shakes and cracks. Blame it on the nerves. “I made some cookies, and I thought I’d share some!” You semi-yell in hopes of catching his attention. 

“One second!” Oh, thank God. You can hear the bed frame creak on the other side and the skid of footsteps across the floor boards. 

Your heartbeat weirdly picks up because of the fact that this is quite literally the first time you’ve come face to face with your neighbor. The late night chats with him have always made you feel comfortable, but there’s a certain nuance to meeting him that shakes your nerves. 

You brace yourself as you hear the lock turn, eyes casting down towards the plate in front of you. 

“I didn’t know that today’d be the day we meet like thiー” He says as the door swings open. 

You look up expecting to greet him with a smile, but the one you had prepared falters from your lips. 

“What’re youー” 

“Y- You liveー” 

You stutter over one another, lost in confusion. Staring into the very familiar set of brown eyes in front of you, you’re confounded by your new discovery. 

Jimin stands before you, running his hand through his black locks as he opens the door wider, stepping aside to let you through. 

“Hey, neighbor?” He sounds disoriented, untrusting of his voice. 

You’re stood frozen at the foot of the entrance, unsure as to how you could possibly process all of this. 

“I heard you made cookies?” He asks, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Here, come in.” He gently tugs on your sleeve, coddling you because of the state of shock you’re in. 

You nod your head, barely cognizant of what’s being said. But your feet still shuffle through the entryway, and you slide off your slippers at the front door. 

“This is so crazy,” he says, taking the plate of cookies off your hands. You’re both surprised that you have yet to drop them. He places the plate onto his coffee table, and his back is turned to you as you stand to the side, playing with the sleeves of your sweater. 

How much weirder can this situation possibly get? 

“You mean to tell me that we’ve been neighbors all this time and we didn’t even know?” You ask, sucking your lips inward, cocking your head to the side. Your words are a jumbled mess, but Jimin has become a master at deciphering your incoherent words through the thin walls many nights in a row. 

“I’m just as surprised as you! I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots?” He exclaims in dismay, patting the seat beside him on the couch as an invitation to you. 

Your brain feels as if it’s lost all of its cells because you have so many questions, yet you can’t seem to articulate them. As you sit down, you close your eyes and rub at your temples, praying that you’d wake up from this odd dream. 

“There’s no way I could have connected the dots,” you sputter in collection of your thoughts, completely exasperated. “I just don’t understand.” 

You fiddle with your fingers, and Jimin takes your hand in his. His touch is soft, and as much as you want to pull away, you give into him because there’s no way you’d ever deny him, especially not when he looks at you with those big round eyes. 

“I have so many questions,” you admit, rubbing at your eyelids. 

“Shoot.” 

“Uhm,” your head shakes wildly. “I don’t even know where to begin?” Your eyes widen, shocked by how nonchalant he’s acting. As if he didn’t just lead you on and ghost you days on end, pretending that everything’s okay now. 

“Take your time,” he chuckles reassuringly, offering you a calming smile. 

“Uhm… How are you? I guess? Th- that’s kind of the first thing I wanted to ask you before… I- you know.” 

Your heart gallops because he’s looking at you, biting his lip. And you, you are completely weak for the man who holds all of your affection in the palm of his hands, yet you can’t handle his smoldering stare, so you avert your eyes elsewhere. This is downright cruel and unusual punishment. 

You continue, “Because I haven’t spoken to you much lately, you know?” 

“You wanted to check up on me?” 

You blink away, eyes now focused on the vase of wilting flowers on the coffee table. Pink and red variegated carnations. You inhale deeply, trying to calm yourself and regulate your breath. Your body stiffens and your shoulders tense. Even your jaw tightens, but you manage to nod your head. 

“I’ve been better,” he admits sullenly. 

Your hand lets go of his, pulling back to seek comfort at your side. It just doesn’t feel right to hold his hand so intimately when he’s made a mess of your head and your heart. You just can’t do it to yourself, and you can’t do it to him or his girlfriend. Especially not when his heart belongs to her. 

You open your mouth as if you have another question to ask, but none of them are coherent enough to utter. There’s plenty of noise ringing in your head, but it’s all nonsense. 

Jimin gently rests his hand on the ball of your knee, almost like a graze, but his touch is hot, and you brush him off with the recoil of your leg. 

His shoulders slump, and his eyes soften. His hands retract to his lap, respecting your wishes. He gulps, and noticeably the lump in his throat goes down in a swallow. 

“Hey, it’s just me, okay? You don’t need to be scared.” He displays his palms out to you as a peace offering. A symbol of vulnerability. The tension in the air is palpable, but you still manage to keep your guard down in front of him. 

Because this is Jimin. The guy you’ve come to know and unfortunately love. But it’s just that you’ve never seen Jimin like this.

“Yeah and that’s kind of the problem,” you breathe out. Your brows knit into a frown, and he looks at you in bewilderment, with wide eyes, parted lips, and stress tousled hair. “I- I don’t know if you’re Jimin the mysterious neighbor who’s been nothing but nice to me, or Jimin the guy from the flower shop who pretty much made it loud and clear he doesn’t want to see me,” you scoff. 

“B- butー What do you mean? We’re the same person.” His eyes narrow, and he shakes his head subtly trying to convince you. He fiddles with his fingers, cracking his knuckles out of bad habit.  Shifting his body so his knees are pointed towards yours, nearly in contact, he refrains from the much needed skinship. The heat radiating from his body is something you’re familiar with, and although it once brought you comfort, you can only feel resentment. 

“Of course I want to see you? Iー I?” He’s a stuttering mess, shaking his head from side to side as if you’ve got it all wrong, but you interject because you have so much to say, yet you haven’t expressed yourself to your liking just yet. 

“I don’t know about that!” Your hands clench up at your sides until your knuckles turn sharp. “Because neighbor Jimin is telling me he has a fuck buddy he thinks he’s in love with, and flower shop Jimin has a girlfriend he doesn’t want to talk about. So what is it? I’m hearing a lot about mixed feelings for this one person, and… if you’re involved with someone, I don’t want to get in the middle of this,” you spit out more harshly than expected, inching further and further away to the edge of the couch with your arms crossed over your chest. You gulp down a thick glob of spit in hopes of washing down the acidic sting in your throat, but it’s like bile just sits there on your tongue. 

“Let me explain, okay?” He begs of you. 

You sit there in sullen silence, staring at the carnations in your peripherals, ready to have him break your heart all over again. You nod, but you don’t even bother turning to face him, unsure whether or not you’d be able to hear him talk about how he’s in some complicated relationship with someone else. 

“Please, look at me?” he pleads with a sniffle, “I need to know if you’re okay.” His voice cracks, and you finally look his way. You’re far from okay, but seeing him with glossy eyes, you also know that he isn’t either. 

He licks his lips, and his hand comes up in desperate need of tucking the stray strand of hair that’s fallen in front of your face. But he decides against it in fear of rejection, and he rests his hand on the ball of his knee instead. Your line of sight falls to his shaking leg. You hesitantly reach across to close your hand softly around his in comfort. His movement stops instantly as he lets out a huff. 

Licking your lips, your eyes gaze towards your hands, and you can’t help but imagine how they’d slot into one another so perfectlyー 

“_____?” Your eyes shift to lock with his and there are tears that brim at his corners, but they’re kept at bay, refusing to fall. 

“I-” He exhales. 

You squeeze his hand a little tighter, and you don’t know if it’s more for yourself or for him, but it gives him the strength to continue on. 

“Look, that girl and I? We weren’t in a relationship. I promise you. I told you that we were friends with benefits because that’s what we were.” He insists, hoping the message gets across to you, but your heart drops lower into your stomach at his admission. You don’t even want to picture him with some other girl, yet you know way more about their relationship than you would have ever wanted. 

Hell, you were even convinced that they were in love. A highlight reel of the last few months spent in your apartment flashes before your eyes, and your grip on his hand loosens. You think back to the days when Jimin was just some faceless guy, dancing around with his supposed girlfriend, having pillow fights, running warm baths, making out beneath the stars, and fucking around with her like they were in love. 

But he continues in hopes that you’d understand his point of view. “It was easier to tell you the truth because you didn’t know who I was, and you wouldn’t have judged me for it. So I was an idiot, and at the flower shop, I told you she was my girlfriend because it would have been easier to explain this complicated mess.” A single tear cascades down his cheek, and he wipes it away with the crook of his elbow. 

“I mean, she wanted it to be serious, but there was just something pulling me back. And do you know what that was?” 

You shake your head no and pull away, unsure how much more of this you can take. 

He looks you dead in the eyes, but you can’t even look at him for another second because the wilting carnations are sitting there, mocking you. 

“_____, you asked me the other day what I liked about her, and I was wracking my brain trying to come up with an answer... It wasn’t easy because you were the only person I thought about.”

A sudden tear escapes from the corner of your eyes, unbelieving, but you compel yourself to look back at his visage, checking for any tells of a lie. He doesn’t even falter. 

“She and I? We fought so much because she was convinced I had feelings for someone else. And you know?” He shakes his head,  “…It’s true. I couldn’t think about the things I liked about her, but then when I thought of you. My god, it was just so much easier to talk about the things I loved about you because you’re the one I like. I didn’t know how to express that, okay? The songs that I wrote? The ones you hear me sing day and night? Fuck…” He rubs at his eyes, and they’re evidently red from all the tears welled up. “They’re all about you, and you didn’t even know,” he sobs out. The first drop of tears came out steadily, but as you examine his face in total shock, the tears begin to cascade down his face. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, now understanding where he’s coming from. It’s all a little more clear to you, and there’s no need to continue on if he’s in hysteria like this. His arms instinctively squeeze around your waist, holding on tight, too afraid that he’d lose you if he were to let go. 

“I didn’t have my feelings sorted out because I was comfortable with where I was, but it’s not like it made me happy,” he confesses. You hush him, running your fingers through his hair and caressing his slumped back. Sitting in silence, you can only hear the sound of your breathing falling into sync with his. Occasionally, the radiator would go off and a car would drive by on the street beneath you. 

You tell him that it’s all okay and that all is forgiven, but he still continues in justification of himself. “And I was convinced that you’d think I was a horrible person for liking someone else when I’ve got a complicated relationship going on, okay? Because that’s how I felt about myself, and I swear we broke it off, but I was too embarrassed to come to you because I didn’t know how to explain the mess I got myself into. It’s all my fault, and I’m so so so sorry, you have no idea.” 

He’s wracked with sobs, but you hum, listening intently to his every word. They’re coherent enough for you to realize that you’ve both made mistakes because of a huge misunderstanding. 

The Jimin that you know and love is right here in your arms, and there’s nothing you can do but forgive and forget. 

“I’m so, so sorry,” he cries out with a hiccup. “I promise you that you’re the only person I care about.” 

You whisper sweet nothings into his ear, hoping that he calms down because there’s really nothing to apologize for. “What did I say? You don’t have to be sorry, okay?” You remind him. 

He lets out a breathy exhale, “I messed up,” he hiccups, “I don’t deserve this. You.” 

Your hands rest on his shoulder, gently pulling back from him, but he clings on tighter to your waist. Looking down at the sweet man beneath you, you smile to yourself. 

“Jimin,” you murmur.

“Hm?” 

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” You shake your head, and a soft chuckle vibrates through your chest. Still, you keep him in your embrace because although it may seem like Jimin is the one in need of a hug, you need it just as much as he does. 

“Can I tell you a story?” You ask. 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, tickling the skin at your sternum. 

“I think I caught feelings for you the first time we met. Do you remember that?” He hums as you reminisce on the memory. “It was some random Sunday, and you walked in looking for a bouquet for your mom, but you realized you didn’t have enough cash on youー” 

Jimin laughs beneath you, and it’s the way that he laughs that makes you realize you need that in your life. A cheshire grin spreads across your lips, and that’s when you know you can’t go a single day without hearing his laugh again. 

“You didn’t have enough cash, so you pulled out a post it note and scribbled an IOU.” You can barely get the sentence out without chuckling to yourself. Jimin has stopped sobbing at this point, being reduced to a few sniffles here and there. You deem it as the right moment to pull back from his embrace so you can look him in the eyes. 

“You drew a little daisy for me and that’s when I knew you were really something else.” 

You cup his cheeks, and a grin tugs on his lips, matching the one on your face. His eyes shine in the dim light, just like how the sun radiates in the day time. A single tear trickles down his plush cheeks, and you wipe it away with the pad of your thumb. 

“Look, I’ve liked you for as long as I can remember, and I have to admit that it hurt me when you said you had a girlfriend, but it really hurt me when you left without saying anything.” 

His eyes cast downwards as if he’s ashamed, but you place your hand beneath his chin, bringing his attention back up. 

“Know that I’d never judge you for the decisions you make and for the relationships you have, okay? And I don’t think you’re horribleー” 

“You don’t?” He cuts you off with his big pleading eyes. 

“No, far from it,” you beam, “I still think you’re the most selfless person I know.” 

Jimin’s face drops at your confession, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel like you’re not special, because to me, you’re the most extraordinary person in this world.” 

He cups your face, noticing that your eyes are starting to well. Drops of tears roll down your face, and Jimin’s quick to dry them away, pressing his lips against your cheeks to collect the drops of salt water. As you smile, another stream of tears pour from your ducts. Soft pecks are trailed against your skin, and you think you’ve successfully washed away all the pain. 

You can feel the flowers in your heart slowly starting to bloom in preparation for spring. 

“Why’d you stop?” You ask, opening up your eyes. He’s merely a few inches away from you, stuck in a daze. 

His eyes can’t decide whether they want to look at the gleam in your irises or at the curvature of your lips, flickering between the two. 

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” Your whimper is hardly loud enough for your own ears, but he hears you loud and clear. 

His hands rest at the sides of your neck as his thumbs run over your cheeks, grazing over the flesh of your lips. “Can I show you how special you are to me?” 

You nod your head, and Jimin is overcome with the urge to kiss you, inching closer with puckered lips. They’re soft against your own, plush and pillowy. You melt into his touch as if he’s the light of your life. You think you could cry again from the sheer amount of euphoria built up in your little heart. Having him in your arms is all you could ever ask for. 

He pulls back slightly in need of a breath, and you take the opportunity to climb into his lap, with knees settled on either side of his taut thighs. 

“Missed you,” you whimper against the column of his neck, nosing at the sensitive skin. 

Jimin’s breath hitches as he bites back a moan, “Missed you more.” 

“Not possible,” you trail gentle kisses against his collarbones, pulling back on the cotton of his t-shirt to expose more of his neck. 

His hands rest on your outer thighs thighs, squeezing tight on the muscles. You reach behind you to grab at his forearms, urging him to move his hands higher onto your body. He takes the hint immediately and experimentally squeezes at your ass. Your lips part from his neck, and Jimin takes the opportunity to latch his mouth back onto yours. 

His lips are gentle in contrast to the firm grip he has on you. But with your weight resting on top of him, core pressed up against his crotch, you can feel how hard he is beneath you. In need of some release, you start to move your hips back and forth, grinding over his hard on. 

Jimin gives you a lingering kiss on your lips, pulling back with a harsh groan. You offer a teasing smile, and he leans forward. He supports your weight at the bottom of your ass as your legs wrap around his waist. You nearly yelp when he stands, holding you up in his arms. 

“I got you,” he reassures, pressing his lips firmly against yours, walking towards his unmade bed space. He lays you down gently on top of the messy covers, climbing between your legs. You whine upon the release of his lips, but his mouth leaves hot kisses down the column of your throat, causing you to gasp.

“Is it okay if we take this off?” He asks, thumbing at the hem of your sweater. 

You nod sitting up, and he tugs the material off for you, tossing it to the edge of the bed. Upon sight of your bare chest, he molds into you, lips suctioning around your pebbled nipple. His other hand massages at your unattended breast, squeezing at the supple flesh.

“You’re beautiful,” he hums against your body.

You’re easily affected by his words as your back arches and your legs hook around his torso. Canting your hips upward, you signal to Jimin with a whine that you’re desperate for his touch. 

“There’s no need to rush, baby, we have the whole night,” he warns you, leaving a kiss between the valley of your breasts. 

You cry out in frustration, but it soon subsides when he satiates your needs. You relax when his hand lowers into your sweatpants, cupping at your heat. His middle finger traces at your entrance, running it up and down your panty clad slit. Your hips lurch once again, but Jimin presses your hips down, flush against the mattress. 

As his tongue circles around your sensitive nipple, his fingers decide to dip into your underwear. The obscene sound of your juices squelching can be heard when he presses his finger into your tight hole. Inserting a finger in, you can feel your walls stretch around him. A cry falls from your lips as he begins to rub at your clit with the pad of his thumb. 

Jimin inserts another finger, and your cunt feels so hot with the amount of friction. Pumping two fingers in and out, there’s a pleasurable burn that ripples throughout your body. Beads of sweat form on your hairline, and you wipe them away with the back of your hand. You can practically feel your heart beating out of your chest. 

“Tell me how it feels, okay?” He asks, switching over to your other breast.

“You feel so good,” you mewl. He hums against your nipple in affirmation, biting lightly at the perky bud. 

“Jimin?” You call out for him. 

He parts from your chest to look into your eyes, fingers still pumping in and out of you with flexing biceps. 

“I think it’d feel better if you’d fuck me,” you admit, no filter needed. 

“Shit,” he groans, slowing down the pace. “I want to eat you out first though.” 

He retracts his hand, and you feel empty without him inside. Your sweatpants and panties are tugged off in one swift motion, casted to the side along with your sweatshirt. Looking up with stars in your eyes, you can see that Jimin is still fully dressed. You open your mouth to tell him about your wishes, but he must have read your mind because he pulls off his t-shirt and throws it with no regard. 

Beneath his clothing, he reveals to you his robust body. You’re dripping with lust, and it must be so obvious from the way you stare at his abdominals. Everything about him is so well-built, and you curse the talented dancer in front of you. 

“Like what you see?” He teases, winking at you as he descends down your body. 

“Love it,” you moan. 

His breath is hot against your wet pussy. With juices dripping down your ass, you ruin the linen sheets beneath you. His fingers play with your core, spreading your swollen lips to reveal your flower, admiring how pretty your cunt is. 

Sitting up with elbows propped, you look down in frustration between your bent legs to see Jimin licking his lips, staring at your heat like he’s ready to devour you. He kisses at the long, dark lines of stretch marks that reside on your inner thighs before his tongue presses softly against your wet clit, kitten licking at the bud. Reaching out, your hand balls around the white comforter to anchor yourself down. As you spread your legs wider, Jimin’s hands hook around your limbs to rest at your thighs. He presses them down, restricting your movement. 

His tongue laps at your heat with no mercy, licking a stripe up your sex and tracing letters onto your clit, sending your nerves aflame. Your breaths are shallow as you pant, melding yourself to the mattress. He flicks his tongue, prodding it against your hole and delving in and out. He massages your tight walls as it clenches around his tongue. 

There’s a knot in your stomach that forms embarrassingly fast, but you can’t help it when his plush lips give your cunt so much attention, sucking harshly on your clitoris. He looks over at your features, taking notice of your reactions, licking over and over the parts that make you squirm the most. 

Your face scrunches in pleasure, nearly toppling over the edge. But you’re not ready to come. Not yet at least. Not without having Jimin’s hard cock inside of you. 

Jimin is relentless against your pussy, but he doesn’t even let up when you call his name out. Your grip around the comforter loosens in favor of digging your fingers into Jimin’s luscious black locks. 

“Jimiiiin,” you whine, tugging lightly at his roots. “I need you, please, please,” you beg. 

He leaves a kiss at your bud, and you shudder in response. Jimin climbs up your body, and you shiver at the loss of contact. 

“You need me, huh?” He teases, “You want to come?” You nod your head ardently when he presses his red, swollen lips against yours. He grapples with your mouth in a bruising, passionate kiss. With clicking teeth and suckling tongues, you can taste yourself off of his plush lips, completely drenched in your arousal. 

Trailing your hand down Jimin’s sturdy body, you can’t resist running your hands over his perfectly sculpted abs. But on your descent, you pull on the strings of his heather gray sweatpants, loosening the elastic around his waist. 

Your palm slides beneath the band, tucking beneath his boxer briefs. His eyebrows scrunch, and he gasps against your mouth when you wrap your hand around his hot, veiny cock, stroking at his erection. His cheeks flush as you swipe your thumb over the head, collecting beads of precum on your fingers. 

He shudders at your touch. “Oh my God, I might die if you keep doing that,” he nearly cries. 

You smile against the skin of his neck, sucking at his pulse point. Meanwhile, Jimin reaches over to his nightstand, pulling out a condom. He nearly falls off the bed, losing balance on his knee when you stroke his cock a little faster. 

As Jimin sits up, trying to open up the packaging, you careen forward to pull off his sweats. You can hardly pull it down below his thick ass given the position he’s sitting in. But it’s enough for you to pull his dick out and wrap your hand around his girth in all its glory. 

While waiting for Jimin to take out the condom, you decide to tease him like he deserves. Switching positions, you lie down on your stomach in front of him. With a glob of saliva built up in your mouth, you spit onto the head of his cock, watching it drip down the shaft and onto his balls. You glide your hand up and down to spread the saliva, making sure he’s nice and wet. His balls tighten the moment you suckle your lips around his slit. 

You look up at Jimin with wide eyes in hope of some praise. 

His eyes stare into yours, but he quickly throws his head back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck I’m not gonna last, please, I know your mouth is like heaven, but I want to be inside you,” he rambles. 

He tucks your hair behind your ears and rests his hand beneath your chin, tilting it upwards. His lips meet your forehead in a sweet kiss before you lie back down on the bed, spreading your legs wide open as an invitation. 

Jimin ungracefully pulls off his pants down the rest of his legs. He pumps his thick cock in his hands before sliding on the condom and lining himself up at your entrance. You groan, reaching out for his wrists as he glides his length up and down your folds, making sure you're nice and wet for him, fully prepped. 

The callous on his thumb is rough against your clit as he rubs down on it, easing the discomfort of penetration. Your velvety walls stretch around his member as he sinks into you inch by inch. 

You’re gasping for air as he sheaths himself inside you, but you remain calm because Jimin peppers kisses all across your face. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, concerned. 

“Mhmm,” you hum, “Might need a second.” 

His nose nudges at your cheek, “Take all the time you need, baby.” 

Moments go by until you’re comfortable with the stretch. You don’t know how Jimin has so much patience with you when you can literally feel his dick twitch inside your pussy, impossibly harder than he was moments prior. But like the angel he is, he still waits for your go-ahead. 

“Jimin, you can move,” you whisper, cupping his cheek and offering a butterfly kiss. 

His mouth finds his way to yours, and he kisses you with so much fervor. You’re too distracted by the kiss to notice him slide out of you. 

But your lips part slightly, letting out a gasp when he drives his dick back into you, setting a moderate pace. Your hands reach for the skin of his back, latching your nails onto the smooth surface. The slap of skin on skin is obscene as his hips meet yours, pumping himself inside of you. The delicious burn has you digging your nails into his shoulder blades, scratching at his taut muscles. 

You weren’t wrong to say that you can’t go another day without hearing Jimin’s laughter, but at the time, you were not privileged enough to hear his moans against the shell of your ear. That is the one thing you don’t want to ever live without, too spoiled by the sensual man above you. 

Jimin fucks into you deeply, changing his angle as he shifts his weight onto his knees. His calculated thrusts to your g-spot sends you closer and closer to the edge. His eyes focus on your pussy, watching his dick disappear inside of you like an addiction. With a firm grasp on your hips, he lifts you higher to help you reach your orgasm. 

“Jimin, I’m gonna come,” you gasp, gripping your walls tightly around his length. 

“I know, baby, you can come.” He lowers himself onto his elbows so he can come face to face with you. His hands reach down between your bodies, and he rubs harsh figure eights on your swollen clit. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your body trembles beneath him, moaning his name like a vice. 

Jimin rides out your high, pumping into your tight hole until your legs nearly give out. He doesn’t dare pull away, continuing to circle your clit until you’ve nearly reached your limits. Your walls pulse around his cock, squeezing around his shaft until he’s nearly at his edge. His hair is matted to his forehead, slicked by sweat. You brush away the loose strands with the tips of your fingers. 

“Are you close?” You breathe out, hush and quiet, cupping his jaw with the palm of your hands. 

“Mhmm,” he gulps, rutting into you, pumping your cum in and out as it sheaths his shaft. 

His pace falters as he approaches his orgasm, hips stuttering against yours. Jimin nearly collapses on top of you as he spills himself into the condom, moaning into the cusp of your ear. His chest presses up against yours as he attempts to catch his breath.

You trace soothing circles onto his back as he basks in the afterglow of post orgasmic sex. 

His breathing soon evens out, and it’s comfortably quiet, that is with the exception of the radiator hissing in the corner of the studio. 

“Wow.” He kisses your temple before pulling out, letting the remains of your cum flow out of you. He rolls over onto his back, pulling you into his warm embrace.

“So on a scale of 1-10, how special would you say you feel right about now?” A smug smirk tugs on his lips, and you playfully smack his pecks. 

“Does this answer your question?” You ask, peppering 10 kisses onto his lips. 

“Mmm, no, I didn’t quite hear your answer” he says, leaning in for another kiss, “Tell me one more time?” 

And as Jimin kisses you goodnight, you know in your heart that the heartache and the loss of $5 are all worth it in the end if it means you get to wake up and smell the roses with Jimin at your bedside.