#I get depressed on Fridays and happy on Mondays

[cheemerthelizard]

unfortunately my work week starts on Friday so I can’t be excited like the rest of you :( and also my work week ends on Monday so I can’t be depressed with the rest of you :(

#Just a glimpse into my twisted and fucked up mind #I get depressed on Fridays and happy on Mondays #I’m just likr the Joker(tm)

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Best Prom Ever 👗💞🪩

Chrissy asks Eddie to prom purely to piss off Jason, you're devastated but Eddie is so happy so you fake a smile and hide how you feel.

So much for the magical prom night you wished for, but not all hope is lost.

This is a fluffy, angsty fic but this is an 18+blog so mdni,

💌🎀

There's this crushing weight on your heart when Chrissy asks Eddie to the prom. It must feel like a dream for Eddie. So why does it feel like your heart is breaking into a million pieces?

It's meant to be just a typical boring Monday but now your whole world feels like it's been shaken.

Of course he says yes. Looks at you for a second before hand and you give him an encouraging smile, hide the way you feel like you can't breathe.

Chrissy was a sweetheart. She would be good for Eddie. You resolve to ignore the stabbing pain in your chest and plant a fake, happy smile on your face.

You knew the two of them had a budding friendship, but you never expected this. Eddie hated prom and everything it stood for and yet he was agreeing to go with Chrissy.

If you asked would he have gone with you? No, of course not. You slip away from their conversation, your ears are ringing and the deep ache in your chest is only getting worse.

You hurry to the bathroom and into a cubicle, lock the door and let out the tears you were struggling to keep at bay.

There was a small part of you that hoped Eddie would ask you to the prom. You could go together and make each other laugh, dance like idiots and be in your own little world.

The bubble was quickly burst seeing Chrissy ask Eddie. Of course he wouldn't say no. This was Chrissy you were talking about. She was the cheer captain and Hawkin High's princess.

Shakily you get up and head out to dry your tears, try to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest and put on a happy smile. For Eddie.

He has a smile on his face for the rest of the day and at lunch he's telling the rest of Hellfire Club what happened.

"I mean, Chrissy told me she asked me to prom to get back at Jason for being a douchebag but I can be a little bit excited right? This is Chrissy Cunningham, we're talking about" Eddie babbles on to you while you're eating lunch.

He's been talking about prom for the last ten minutes.

Jeff raises his eyebrows at Eddie. "Dude, what about the whole "Prom is just a bunch of bullshit, you'd never see me step one foot in conformist shit like that" Eddie pauses as he steals one of your fries then answers Jeff's question.

"Dude I still feel that way, however this is a chance to piss off Carver and I never want to miss an opportunity like that" he explains and you listen half heartedly.

This is why he was going? A revenge fantasy for him? The thought depresses you and you make a vow to yourself that you will enjoy prom night in a different way. Maybe you could stay at home, watch a bunch of horror movies or sappy, wholesome movies and binge on snacks.

That made you feel a little bit better. But there was still a small part of you that dreaded Friday night.

💌🎀

Eddie shows up at your house half an hour before prom. Well, he climbs up through your window like he always does and nearly ruins his outfit.

He looks gorgeous, he's paired his leather jacket with a black dress shirt and black jeans. He frowns as his eyes trail over you.

"Why aren't you dressed yet? Proms starting in half an hour"

"Oh, I'm not going to the dance" you shrug and Eddie gapes at you. His big brown eyes are wide and searching as you flop back down in your bed, already cosy in your comfiest nightwear and ready to binge watch your favourite movies.

"But..." You turn to him and fake a smile once again, fuck, you were getting pretty good at this.

"Go and have fun Eddie"

"It won't be the same without you princess" you feel a tug at your heart but shake your head. No. You were not giving yourself false hope that deep down Eddie had feelings for you.

"Don't be silly, you'll be with Chrissy, you'll have a great time" you assure him and he gives you a faint smile.

"But my best girl won't be there" fuck. Why did he have to say such sweet things, he's still lingering so you give him a gentle nudge to the door. He looks back at you one more time and then he's gone.

Your night of movies and binging in ice cream is interrupted by Steve. He comes into your room and is at your closet, pulling out the dress you bought for prom.

When you were secretly hoping maybe Eddie would ask you.

"Steve, what the hell are you doing?" He turns around with one hand on his hip and gives you that "Mom" stare he usually reserves for the kids.

"You're not holing up in your room feeling sorry for yourself and missing prom. I missed prom because I felt shitty about Nance and you were there for me. Now I'm returning the favor. Get dressed honey"

You're tempted but the thought of seeing Eddie with Chrissy hurts your heart all over again.

"I don't know if I can watch Eddie with Chrissy, having the time of their lives. I mean, of course I want him to have fun but do I have to see it?" Steve settles beside you and puts his arm around you.

"I'm going with you. Robin and Vickie too. Fuck Eddie Munson, you will go and have the time of your life with us, now get dressed" he orders.

"So bossy", you mutter but kiss his cheek before you take the dress into your bathroom and start getting ready .

💞💌🎀

Prom is boring. He kinda expected it but it's even worse now he's here. The music is shitty and while Chrissy is really a sweetheart, all he can think about is you.

Would prom be more fun if you were here? Absolutely yes. Jason is glaring daggers at him and that is barely giving him any satisfaction.

Chrissy is looking at him all sympathetic and that doesn't help his mood. "Is yn not coming?" She looks around for you and Eddie shakes his head glum.

"No, she's having a movie night instead" Chrissy bites her lip, looking shocked.

"It's prom. She can't miss prom" he shrugs the weight of your absence weighing heavy on him, he's so tempted to just ditch this shit and go and be with you.

Chrissy softens when she looks at him, "You're really not having a good time huh? I'm sorry, I thought at the time this would be a good idea, but you're missing your girl and well... I miss Jason" she murmurs softly and Eddie while he doesn't get how anyone could miss Carver, he does sympathise with her.

"I think I've ruined everything" he replies and the small bubble of panic inside of him grows bigger and bigger when he thinks about you on your own.

"Oh Eddie, I think you need to go and see her. You haven't ruined anything, she just doesn't know how you feel. Maybe because you realised at the last minute" Chrissy scolds him.

Doesn't realise how you feel... He goes over Chrissy's words several times before realising she's right.

He's head over heels. For you.

"Shit" Eddie yelps and ignores the way some of his classmates look their way. Chrissy still looks disappointed in him and that doesn't help either.

"Wait, why are you pissed at me?" He asks Chrissy confused, she looks at him like he's grown two heads and sighs.

"Eddie, you've left your best friend all alone while she's hurting and trying to put on a brave face because she doesn't realise that you like her back. She's been so nice to me so I'm pissed for her that it took you so long to get your head out of your ass"

Eddie winces and nods. Yup, he deserved that. Then his heart skips a beat as he repeats her words.

"You really think she feels the same?" Chrissy's glare softens and she nods. Oh fuck, yeah he had messed up.

"Oh wow" Chrissy gasps and he turns around to where she's staring at and there you are in a beautiful dress, looking ethereal and like an angel as you enter the room.

You were here after all. His heart is going a mile a minute but sinks as he sees you with Steve. Then it lightens when Robin and Vickie arrive at the same time.

Chrissy is looking at him expectantly and he swallows as he looks at you with Steve. He messed up. He should be the one making you smile like that.

"I think I'm too late. She's with Steve" he mutters and Chrissy shakes her head looking exasperated.

"Most likely as friends. Eddie I've never seen you be shy in your life so will you go and get the girl and stop being a wimp" he gapes at Chrissy's words then nods.

Yeah, he was Eddie the Brave. He could do this.

💞💞

Eddie walks over to you, he looks nervous which is rare for him. He's also staring at you in a way that makes you feel butterflies. Why wasn't he with Chrissy.

"You came" he sounds so relieved and this surprises you but he was your friend, of course he would want to see you at prom. It didn't mean anything else.

"Wait, why aren't you with Chrissy?" You ask him curiously and notice she's dancing with Jason.

"Yeah, it was a big mistake coming with her, huge. Should have taken my best girl instead of getting sucked into some dumb revenge scheme" wait...what?

"Eddie. This is Chrissy we are talking about, she's queen B and she's so sweet and kind and...' he cuts you off, his eyes softening as he gazes at you.

"She's not you" three words but there is so much meaning behind them. Oh. Well shit. Maybe there was hope after all.

"I was coming to see you. Prom isn't prom without my girl. I should have asked you because...because you're everything to me and I'm so in love with you"

Slow music begins to play, your classmates are chatting loudly, giggling but you can only focus on Eddie. "You do?" he nods and holds out his hand which you take.

"I love you too" you blurt out and he grins all dimples and happiness. Pulls you closer to him and the two of you sway to the music.

Eddie dances with you, has your hand in his and holds it over his heart. He leans down and kisses you. The whole world melts away in that moment and it's just the two of you, passionately kissing and lost in each other.

"Best prom ever" you whisper to him and lay your head on his chest. His fingers caress your hair and sway to the music with the guy you love.

🎀❤️

Take my breath away

My love, take my breath away

My love, take my breath away

My love, take my breath away

Take my breath away - Berlin

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x best friend reader #stranger things eddie munson

[highvern]

Home for the Holidays

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x fem!reader

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

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

Length: ~24k

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

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

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

June 27th

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

“I think we should break up.”

“and forth so much but—What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

December 7th

Wooyoung

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Actually mom—”

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

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

He might as well start digging his own grave.

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

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

“Love you too.”

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

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

Wooyoung: Can I call you?

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

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

Y/N🥰🍯💖: are you okay?

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

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

“Hi.” She deadpans.

“Is it a bad time?”

“What do you want, Woo?”

“How have you been?”

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

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

“Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, tell her now.”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now he’s the one to pause, “Really?”

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

“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”

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

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

“Bye.”

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

Wooyoung: My flight out is 12/21

Wooyoung: You don’t have to come that early 

Y/N🥰🍯💖: im off starting the 19th

Wooyoung: I’ll pay for your flight

Y/N🥰🍯💖: great

Y/N🥰🍯💖: ill venmo you

Wooyoung: Cool, send me the details

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

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

Lovers. Almost fiancées. And now strangers.

December 10th

Wooyoung

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

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

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

“Fuck me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

SANNIE⛰️: YOU DIDN’T TELL YOUR PARENTS? 

SANNIE⛰️: U R SO FUCKED

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

Y/N🥰🍯💖: here’s my ticket 

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

Wooyoung: Why are you flying out of LGA?

Y/N🥰🍯💖: Because I live here?

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

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

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

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

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

“This is the third time this month.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N

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

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

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

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

“Because…” 

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

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

“I really like his family.”

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

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

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

“Yep.”

“This can’t go wrong at all!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N: Because I live here

Youngie 🖤: since when?

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

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

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

Wooyoung

Wooyoung: since when?

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

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

Wooyoung: Did you know Y/N moved here?

Yeosang: Yes.

Well fuck.

Wooyoung: You didn’t think to tell me?

Yeosang: You broke up.

Yeosang: ?

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

Double fuck.

December 14th

Y/N

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N: no thanks

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

December 21st

Wooyoung

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

“Bringing home anyone special?”

“When are you going to get married?”

“Grandchildren?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Congrats, man.”

“Thanks.” Wooyoung gives a tight smile.

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

He really needs a drink.

Y/N

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

“No charge?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cranberry margarita.”

“Wanna start a tab?”

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

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

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

Wooyoung

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

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

And a sour look of absolute disgust twisting her lips.

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

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

Wonderful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Great.

Y/N

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No! Not you, sorry!”

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

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

Great.

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

“Hey,” calls a voice to your left. 

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

“Y/N,” he tries again.

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

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

“How’ve you been?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No way! My mom is from Lanesville.”

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

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

“Excuse me.” Wooyoung arrives over your shoulder.

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

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

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

“How’ve you been?”

“Fine.”

“How’s work?”

“Fine.”

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

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

“Fine.” You sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cold, wet. Lots of sick babies.”

“At least they’re consistent!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Still?” She gasps.

“Unfortunately, I think it’s terminal.”

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

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

Wooyoung

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s gotten better about knocking!”

“Yeah, after she saw us having sex!”

Not like that’s gonna happen again.

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

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

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

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

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

December 22nd

Y/N

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want some breakfast, sweetie?” 

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

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

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

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

Wooyoung

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s Kyungmin?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s a guest!”

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

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

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

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

Y/N

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.”

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wooyoung, Y/N. Is everything okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh?” 

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

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

“That’s really not neccess–”

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

Wooyoung

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

December 23rd

Y/N

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wonderful.

Wooyoung

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

Y/N

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

“You work with kids, right?”

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

“I mean not anytime soon considering…”

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

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

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

“Mia, are you and Myungho?”

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

“Scared?”

She nods sheepishly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me too.”

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wooyoung

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

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

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

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

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

“C’mon it's almost time for dinner.” 

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

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

“I can get Bibi up here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The little sugar addict is nothing if not predictable.

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

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

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

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

“Mine’s the Grinch,” Kyungmin says.

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

“See, you get it!” 

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

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

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

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

“Home Alone,” his mom chimes.

A chorus of groans around the table answer.

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

Nodding in appreciation, Wooyoung presents his.

“Nightmare Before Christmas.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mistletoe!” his mom squeals.

“Huh?” Grunts Y/N, confused.

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

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

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

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

Y/N

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

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

What was wrong with you? 

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

December 24th

Wooyoung

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine,” Wooyoung pants. “Why?”

“Because you’re out here.”

“Just helping out.”

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

“No.”

“Okay.”

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

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

“Have you heard from anywhere yet?”

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

“Was it that bad?”

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

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

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

“Yeah, that sounds pretty creepy.”

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

“Who’s Andi?”

“A friend.” 

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

“What's she like?”

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

“Oh?”

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

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah, she is.”

“So you like her?”

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

“Kyungmin…”

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

“Why do you think that?”

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

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

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

“Oh, really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah but it’s B.Y.O.W.”

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

“Just think about what I said, okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bibi.” You whisper back.

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

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

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

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

Wooyoung

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

“You took the floor last night.”

“You don’t hav–”

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

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

“I’m fine.” 

“Just take the bed.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

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

“Why are you being so stubborn?”

“I’m stubborn? Me?”

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

“Because I’m fine here!”

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

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping. Now shut up.”

“Wooyoung,” she sighs.

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

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

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

December 25th

Wooyoung

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit!” 

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

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

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

Y/N

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pull out a cardboard box and a thick card.

“To my future Daughter in Law,

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

Love, Mrs. Jung”

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

“Oh, I can’t—”

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

“But I really—”

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

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

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

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

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

Wooyoung

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

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

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

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

“What’s the necklace about?”

“Your mom gave it to me.”

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

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

“I didn’t realize she’d—”

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

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

“I don’t know.”

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

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

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

“You just gave up.”

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

“Boston was always a problem!”

“Which I was already planning to fix.”

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

“What?”

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

“You’re joking.”

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

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

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

“You what?”

“I got scared.”

“Of me?”

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

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

“Kind of, I—”

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

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

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

“I still have it by the way.”

“What?”

“The ring.”

“Why?”

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

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

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

“Then why’d you do it?”

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

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

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

“Not anyone.”

Y/N

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” you whisper into his mouth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

December 26th

Wooyoung

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

December 29th

Wooyoung

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

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

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

“Huh?”

“Wooyoung, I know.”

“How… she told you?”

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

“What’d she say?”

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

“Did she say anything else?”

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

“I made a mistake.”

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

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

“Where is that coming from?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

December 30th

Wooyoung

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

“You’re pathetic.”

“Fuck you.” Wooyoung responds.

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

“She doesn’t want me!”

“Did you ask her?” 

“I don’t have to!”

“You’re an idiot.” Yeosang butts in.

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

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

“It’s not that easy!”

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

“What if she says no?”

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

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

December 31st

Wooyoung

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

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

“Go fuck yourself!”

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

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

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

“What makes this time so different?”

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

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

And the line clicks dead.

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

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

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

“What?”

“Y/N works at NewYork-Presbyterian.”

“How do you know that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn't you say something?”

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

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

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

“So why are you telling me now?”

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

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

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

January 1st

Y/N

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

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

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

Impression: Upper respiratory infection, right otitis media

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–W

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

January 3rd

Wooyoung

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She isn’t coming.

She doesn’t want him back.

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

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

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

“Hi.” He says, dumbfounded.

“Hi.”

“You came.”

“I did.”

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

“I’m sorry.” He warbles.

“I know.”

But she can’t so he says it again.

“I’m so sorry.”

“You keep saying that.”

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

“Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

“No.”

“Then talk to me, Woo.”

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

“I don’t know where to start.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Since they opened.”

“Why?”

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

“I almost didn’t.”

“Why did you?”

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

“I had a whole speech prepared.”

“Really?” She smiles apprehensively.

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

“Then just tell me the truth, Woo.”

“I’m an idiot.”

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

And the space between them grows a little warmer.

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

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

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

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

“Please say something.”

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

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

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

Y/N

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

Four months later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about your fiance?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What if I wanna keep my last name?”

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

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

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

“What were you saying?”

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

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

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

“Feel for yourself.”

“And if I call you my husband?”

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

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

#ateez #ateez smut #wooyoung #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung angst #ateez fluff #🫡 highvern

[strawberrysturniolo]

never grow up seven

summary: after taking things to long distance, sunny and chris face the highs and lows of their love story. smuttyyyyyy and angstyyy. mentions of depression. some phone sex.

part six

part eight

Chris’ POV

The first two weeks of me and Sunny were so good. So fucking good. 

We were on such a high, a honeymoon phase I had never experienced before. We were talking consistently, both of us trying our hardest to make time for each other while we continued with our lives as we lived on opposite sides of the country.

One weekend in particular, I was kinda shit about responding, but it really wasn’t my fault. I had a shoot for Fresh Love on Friday, then had to go to an event that night. Saturday, we filmed a collaborative video all day with other YouTubers, and that night we filmed our podcast for Monday. Sunday, I met up with my friends at a music video shoot, and now that it’s Monday again, Sunny is back in classes.

I woke up late from having such a loaded weekend, and when I tried calling her at 1 p.m., she declined my call.

Me: Hey. Are you in class?

Sunshine: at work

Me: Oh

Me: Sorry. I had a crazy weekend. Woke up late because I’m exhausted. Can you talk after work?

Sunshine: i wont get home until midnight and then i have an 8 am tmr.

Sunshine: you didnt have a minute to text at all?

Me: I’m sorry baby

Me: I was really busy

Me: I’m trying to talk now but it’s the time zones fault

Sunshine: yeah

I know she’s upset with me. This is one of those unfortunate things that comes with distance. I’m really trying. When both of us are free, it’s great, and we can talk forever, but when one of us is really busy, it throws everything off. 

My schedule was loaded this weekend, and hers is loaded through the week with her classes and work, so with those combined, we haven’t really talked in a week. 

Me: I love you. Text me when you’re home from work so I can say goodnight

Sunshine: i love you too

I feel like shit. I’m really trying here. I can’t read her tone over text messages, and we haven’t had the time to have a real conversation over the phone. 

We’ll try harder tomorrow.

–

Sunshine: are u kidding me christopher!!!!

Me: What!!!

Sunshine: what are these flowers for??????

Me: Lol. Surprise

Sunshine: i’m gonna cry

Me: Noooo they weren’t supposed to make you sad

Sunshine: i’m happy! this was just so sweet. i miss you sm 

Me: Can you talk?

She FaceTime’s me instantly. I was never a FaceTime kind of guy. Even though me and my brothers are away from everyone we grew up with, I still was never the kind of person to opt for a FaceTime call. 

With her, I’ll always answer a call so I can see her face.

“Hey, pretty girl,” I smile, watching her place her flowers into a clear vase in her kitchen. I lay down on my bed, tucking a pillow under my chin.

“Hi!” she waves. She’s fucking adorable. “This is so cute, Chris. I had no idea you were doing this!”

“That’s the point of a surpriseeeeeee,” I remind her. “Did you see the card?”

“I did,” she nods, smiling big at me. “Very sweet of you.”

I shrug casually. “I try. How was your day?”

She lets out an exhausted sigh. “Good, but busy. I’ve kinda been feeling like shit lately.”

I sit up straight, pushing the pillow I had been laying on out of the frame. “What? Why didn’t you say something?”

“You’re 3,000 miles away,” she reminds me. “What are you going to be able to do?”

“Listen while you rant, give you advice, give you some encouragement,” I list off for her. “What kind of shit?”

“Just the usual–”

“Sunny!” I interrupt her. “You gotta tell me these things!”

“Well, sorry! I didn’t want to text you, ‘Hey, congrats on all the great stuff you’re doing, I’m super depressed and feel miserable all the time and all I want is my boyfriend to come home and be with me.’ That would only make me feel worse.” 

I frown at her. I don’t want her feeling like she’s going to rain on my parade. 

“I’m okay, Chris,” she assures me. “Promise. I wasn’t feeling too well, but I’m better now.”

“Will you tell me next time? I don’t want you to be alone.”

She nods gently. “Mhm, I’ll tell you.”

“I’ll come back by myself if I have to–”

“No,” she interrupts. “You’re going to stay and do your thing because I need to be able to figure this out myself. You can’t run back to Boston anytime I have an issue.”

“Why not?”

She gives me a ‘come on,’ type look, like I’m being ridiculous. “How was your day?” she asks me instead. 

I lift the camera up so she can see me laying in my bed. “Hasn’t started yet.”

I can see her eyes scanning my body closely, her face inches from her phone as she bites her bottom lip. I know she’s staring at my body. We’ve been feeling more risky about things, sending each other suggestive photos. It’s the only way I can really feel close to her sexually. I never thought I would be sending her, of all people, pictures of my hard dick through my underwear. 

The other night she got me good, sending a picture of herself in the shower, her arm covering her tits, but pressing them into her chest enough for them to look plumper than usual. The water droplets on her skin added more to the photo, sending me into a spiral. 

“Whatcha looking at, babe?” 

She smirked at me through the phone. “The underwear poking out of your sweatpants.”

“Yeah?” I asked, pushing my pants down so she could see my underwear fully. I pulled the bottoms of it down more, seeing that it rode up my thighs as I laid down. 

“Jesus,” she sighed, taking me into her room with her.

“Yeah?” 

I set the phone up on a stray pillow across my bed so she can see my entire body. I press my hand into my dick, palming myself lightly. I immediately feel a rush through my dick, forcing me to shove my hand into my briefs to touch myself.

“I miss you baby,” I nod at her. “Miss your sweet face.” 

She watches me as I stroke my dick, whispering softly in that sweet voice, “I miss you more.”

Not a fucking chance. 

“No shot,” I challenge.

“I promise,” she insists, her doe eyes really doing the trick to convince me. 

I hold my dick still in my fist, shoving my briefs out of the way so she can see me. “You see how much you turn me on, baby?” I ask her, hoping she notices how red my tip is right now from the swelling, not to mention the fact that I have precum leaking out of me like I’m touch starved, probably because I am. 

She lays down on her bed, right on her stomach. She mumbles a “fuck,” as she gets comfortable. “You’re so hot.”

“You are,” I smile, stroking myself faster.

I watch as she pulls her jeans off, lifting her ass in the air for me to see.

I pause for a second as I stare at her lower back, the thong hugging her hips in the most perfect way. I’m contemplating booking a flight right now so I can put my handprints all over that ass.

“Ohhh fuck,” I groan, squeezing around my tip with a tight fist. “You’re perfect.” She smiles at me as she watches my motions, now listening to my groaning sounds as I struggle to keep myself casual.

“Does that feel good?” she asks curiously as she turns over to her back.

“Mhm,” I hum. “Not as good as you.”

She lowers the camera to her pelvis, showing me her hand as it glides down her thong, and settles right over her pussy.

“Oh good girl,” I nod. “Show me how you touch yourself, Sunny.” She lowers the camera even further, settling it between her legs on a pillow somewhere a few inches out. I have a clear shot over her fingers burying themselves in her. A loud moan escapes my lips. “Perfect fucking pussy. All mine, right?”

“Uh huh,” she whimpers.

My cock continues to drip, and I quickly spread the precum across my length. “Talk to me baby. Tell me how much you need me,” I taunt as the sound of me fucking my hand fills the room. “My mouth on your swollen little clit, yeah?”

She nods desperately as she rubs herself faster. “I need you so bad, Chris,” she whines for me. “Stretching me out like before.” 

“Yeah?” I ask, mindlessly bucking my hips so I get the illusion of her pussy as my hand right now, hovering above me as my dick buries itself into her. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum baby.” 

I set my phone up next to me, changing the angle slightly so she can see my face and my dick in the same shot. My balls tighten, and I rub them for some sort of release. 

I listen to her pretty moans, using them as fuel to the fire. 

“You’re so pretty, Chris,” she tells me, but I can’t focus on it. I’m moaning so bad, I sound like a fool. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I chant to myself, my face scrunching in pleasure as she continues to try talking me through it, but my ears are fucking ringing as the release floods through me. “Oh! Shit!” I curse loudly, laying my dick on my stomach and rubbing myself through my orgasm, the cum dripping across my abdomen. 

I keep my eyes on her despite how heavy they feel. My breathing is just as bad. “God, keep going baby,” I encourage her, noticing how badly she’s dripping in front of me and I can’t fucking touch her. 

“I’m close, Chris.”

“Uh huh, you got it.”

The sound of her fingers going in and out of her has me ready for another round. I’m half hard, really debating on going again as I watch her.

“Oh god, Sunny,” I breathe out. She looks fucking beautiful. She always does. “My perfect fucking girl.” She bends her knees, the most perfect shot of her pussy as she cums directly in my vision. “Ohhhh there you go.” She starts panting tirelessly as it drips down her hand. “Good girl. Fuck, I wish I was there to lick you clean baby.”

She looks down at the mess she made and says, “Me too.” Once she cleans herself up and settles back in bed, she asks, “When are you coming home?” 

I wipe my stomach clean and pull on a clean pair of underwear. “I don’t know yet, I answer honestly. “Maybe the end of the month.” She nods at me, and I can tell she’s disappointed. “Soon, I promise.” 

“Okay,” she gives me a half smile. “I have to go change for work.”

I nod, disappointed that our call is coming to an end. “Okay. Have a good day, baby. I love you.”

“I love you,” she says, and that’s the last time I talk to her that day. 

– 

The last few days have been rough. We’re back to barely talking. I feel like shit. I feel guilty, but it’s not my fault. I’m trying, I really am. It’s the time zone. It’s fucking everything up. I sleep in, and by the time I’m up and doing stuff, she’s at work and can’t talk. Then she’s going to bed, and we have like… an hour in the day to talk.

I thought we could make this work. I thought things would fall into place. 

I’ve stayed up every night this week trying to think of how to talk to her about this, but I’m too scared. I keep holding back everything that I feel. 

I’m quite literally shaking as I click on her contact, texting her a quick message. 

Me: Hey. Can you talk?

Sunshine: i’m about to go to bed

Me: Please

A photo of her smiling pops up on my phone with her caller ID on top. I answer the call with a deep breath.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” she mumbles. “What’s up?”

“Are you in bed already?”

“Mhm,” she hums. “Long day. Is everything okay?”

No. 

I’ve never been in this position before, and I don’t know how to do this the right way. 

Just rip off the bandaid. 

“I don’t think this is working out,” I say simply. My voice is soft, yet firm.

I hear the rumbling of her bedsheets and then her broken voice. “What?”

Shit. 

That pretty voice that sews me together just ripped me apart. 

“Sunny– I just– I don’t think I can give you what you need,” I say honestly, picking at the subtle rip in my jeans on my thigh. I pull at the fraying material and toss the scraps on the floor. 

“Chris–”

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, looking at my ceiling. “I just don’t think it’s fair to keep stringing you along if I know it’s not going to work out.”

I know this isn’t what she wants to hear. I think in the future we could work out, but right now, we’re doomed. I don’t want to have this heartbreaking story when we could prevent it. We were in over our heads. 

“We’ll try harder,” she says.

The desperation in her voice is killing me. “I know this is hard.” Fuck, I’m trying to keep myself together so I don’t back out of this. “But I think it’s better this way.” 

“We can make it work, Chris,” she insists.

I shake my head, trying to keep myself from breaking down. “It’s not that easy. You deserve someone who can give you everything you want and need. Someone who can be there for you, emotionally, and physically… and I can’t do that for you right now. It’s so hard for me not being with you. I just want to hold you and be with you and I can’t, Sunny. I want to come home and be with you everyday but I need to be in LA.” The line is silent, and I know she’s going to make this hard for me. I deserve it, but she deserves the truth. “I really want this, but I can’t give it to you right now, and it’s not fair for either of us.”

The only conversations we’ve had this last week are us arguing or sexting. That’s not how this should be.

“How long have you been feeling like this?” she asks hesitantly. I know she’s scared of the answer.

I let out a heavy sigh, my hand running through my hair and tugging on it. “A little bit. I don’t know how long, but I’ve been trying to ignore my feelings and–”

“And you didn’t tell me you were having doubts?!” she asks accusingly. 

“It’s not that I didn’t want to talk about it with you. I just– Fuck, Sunny– This is difficult and–”

“How is it difficult!” she asks. “I’m your best friend. I’m supposed to be the easiest person for you to talk to.”

“I know,” I agree with her, but does she not realize how fucking hard it is knowing that the one person I’m trying to be open with is the person who is going to face the damage? “That’s why it’s so hard. I don’t want to lose you as a friend too.”

She ignores my point. 

“Why did you start a relationship with me then? You started this, Chris.”

I mean, she kissed me, but alright. 

I’m too in shock at her tone and fight for this to think of anything to say. 

“I… I didn’t mean to,” I stumble over my words. “I thought… I don’t know. I thought we could make it work.” 

“Then let’s make it work.”

I roll my lips into my mouth, trying to keep myself from crying. The sound of her voice is destroying me. “Maybe we can, but right now I just need some time to think.”

“How much time?” she asks. 

“I don’t know. A few days, maybe? A week?”

She scoffs. “Chris, if you have to think about if you want me or not then–”

“I said I need time to think, Sunny,” I remind her. “I’m not making any decisions right now.”

“But you’re questioning us to begin with! You said you’ve felt like this for a while so what’s there to think about!”

“Baby–”

“Don’t,” she says sharply. 

I pace my room, a pit in my stomach growing. This is fucking awful. “I said I can’t right now.” 

I hear a soft cry from her end, and I freeze. “Please, don’t do this.”

My eyes well with tears. “I’m so sorry. I really am. But I can’t be in this with you if I’m feeling doubts. I just need to figure things out, and maybe we can work it out.”

Something in her switches and all those tears and sadness turn into anger. 

“So you fuck me after we’re friends for our whole lives. Then you leave without a word. Then you come back and say you’re in love with me, fuck me again, and then leave and want me to move on and be with other people. Oh wait! But then!” she continues. I just stand there in the middle of my room and let her rip me apart through the phone. “You want me to be with you and we’re happy and great and then you drop this and say you’ve been unhappy and want to break up?”

Yeah… So, I sound like shit. 

My eyes narrow as I grip my phone. “That’s not fair,” I say, shaking my head. “I didn’t force you into anything, and I’m not trying to hurt you.” 

“But you made me feel wanted by you!”

“I do want you!” I remind her. “But this isn’t about what we want, it’s about what I need right now.”

She pauses and lowers her voice. “Do you need me?”

I hate myself for the way I hesitate to answer her.

“Yes, I do.”

I can almost hear the sigh of relief in her voice.

“But not in the way you’re asking.” 

Then I hear her cries. At this point, I’m breaking down with her. 

“Is there anything I can do to make this work?” she asks again.

“No. There’s nothing you can do.”

I sit on my bed, listening to her cry, and I feel awful knowing that I can’t wipe those tears like I always do. 

“I love you so much Chris,” she says desperately.

I wipe the tears that fall down my own cheeks. “I love you too, but I can’t be with you like this. Not right now.”

“Are we still going to be friends?” she asks. “Or are you going to go ghost again for four months?”

“I’m not going to ghost you,” I assure her. I fucked up that time, I really did, but I thought it’s what we needed. That time of no contact to figure ourselves out. It clearly made things worse. “I think we need some space though, just for a little bit.”

She’s pissed. It’s obvious. She’s gone from trying to talk me into staying with her, to now saying nothing at all. 

“Look,” I say, trying to keep myself from sounding like a broken record. “I get that you’re hurt and disappointed, but I need to do this. I can’t keep going through this cycle of wanting you and then pulling away from you because I’m scared. I need to get to a place where I feel secure with you and I know we can make it work. Right now, it’s not that time.” 

All I want right now is to hold her, kiss her, tell her it’s going to be okay. I want to lay next to her and smile at her before we go to bed. I want to be with her forever, never losing sight of each other.

But if we keep trying to force this relationship, we’re only going to ruin everything. 

“I wish I could hate you,” she sobs. “I really do. But I could never hate you, Chris, and that’s the worst part.”

“I’m sorry,” I keep saying to her. The pain in my voice only becomes more evident. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I’m always going to be in love with you, and you’re always going to know it.”

I sigh heavily. “I know. And that’s part of the problem.”

“Why?”

“Because,” I say, pausing to find the right words. “I can’t be with you like this. I need to figure myself out first.” 

“You started this!” she says again. 

“I know.” My voice is heavy with guilt. “And I’m sorry.”

“Are you even upset about this?” she questions. “I’m sitting here fucking crying and it’s like your emotions are shut off! Give me something, Chris!”

“Of course I’m upset!” I raise my voice in frustration. “You want to hear me cry? I never meant to hurt you like this.”

“THEN STOP!” she screams.

“I’M TRYING!” I yell back, my eyes rimmed with tears. “I can’t keep having this conversation. I’m sorry, but we need to break up.”

The line goes silent again. 

“Please,” I plead with her. “Just say something.”

After a minute of silence she says, “I love you, and I hope you can get your shit together. If not for me, then hopefully for the next girl so you don’t fuck her over the same way.”

I sit staring at my floor. I don’t know what to say that will fix this or give her the same hope I feel for us. I do want this. All I’ve ever wanted was her. I just can’t do it right now. It’s not the right time. 

I’ve dreamt of marrying this girl, and the idea of us having the wrong timing is terrifying me. It needs to be perfect, and it’s just not right now. 

“I’m sorry,” I say finally, my voice thick with emotion as I try not to break down again. “I really am.”

I expect more fight from her considering she wouldn’t back down before. 

I don’t get that.

“Goodbye.”

I’m torn between heartbreak, confusion, and anger. 

“Goodbye.” 

tag list : @mbbsgf @mattbrainrot @mattsneezing @r6diosturns @thottie777 @obscurechris @plasticferal @angelworldspost @alluringsturniolo @sleepysturnss @sturniolovoid @struniolos @skyeteller @sturniololol @sturniololoverr @flowerxbunnie @gamermattsgf @lunarsturniolo @luvsturniolo @lacysturniolo @luvmila444 @christinarowie332 @bellybumm @bernardenjoyer @n6ptunova @pepsiskiess @luverboychris @mattitties @sturnioloobsessed @sturnsbaby @sturnsblunt @sturnsreader @sturnsiolos0 @sturnswift

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #strawberrysturniolo #Spotify

[heytherejulietx]

Eddie comforting soft!reader who is crying?

a/n - aaaa i’m so happy to be writing again! my requests are back open! mostly for fluffy or hurt/comfort drabbles for steve or eddie at the moment, so please send some in!

tw - hurt/comfort, themes of depression though no direct mention, unedited

1.2k words

just a reminder that reblogs are seriously appreciated as it helps my work get seen by more people! <3

@eddie-darling @bradleybeachbabe @m1vfs @katsukis1wife @pastel-abyss-x @levylovegood @simplymurdock @mayyvh @parasadic-blog @pr3ttycunt @aurumbelis join my tag list

Fingers were gentle against her cheek as her face was tilted up, though she didn’t open her eyes. A thumb brushed against her skin to wipe away a few tears, and the action alone made her breath shake on the next inhale. She could feel her cheeks burning. She felt so silly.

“Baby,” Eddie was murmuring in that soft tone of voice that either meant he was melting with fondness, or was worried. “Hey, talk to me, what’s wrong?” A second hand was placed against her other cheek, and with shaking fingers she lifted her free hand to wrap around his wrist, holding onto him as her breath shuddered. His skin was warm underneath her touch, and if she focused enough she could feel the way his heartbeat sped erratically in his veins.

Every Friday she went over to his trailer to sleep over for the weekend. And just like every Friday it had been playing out the same as always. Smiles and kisses as soon as she had stepped through the doorway, swapping her shirt in place for one of Eddie’s (something that was always encouraged by him), curling up on the sofa together. And nothing bad had happened, there was no reason for anything to change. But he had left the comfort of the sofa to make them both a drink, and in the time it took for him to do that, she had curled in on herself with short breaths as tears trickled down her cheeks. Her chest had been tight ever since Monday, but there was no reason for her to be sad. It was silly. Even more silly now that Eddie had to comfort her when she didn’t know what was wrong.

Her expression crumpled as he wiped more tears away, and she took another shaking breath in as her eyes flickered open. Only enough to see the way his eyebrows were scrunched in worry, brown eyes filled with sadness. “Sorry,” she whispered, unable to make her voice any louder. “I’m… I’m okay.”

Eddie hummed a quiet acknowledgment as her eyes shut again, too embarrassed to look at him. He was silent for a moment as he brushed tears away with the calloused pads of his thumbs, before she felt his lips pressed to her forehead. And then her left cheek. And then her right cheek.

Her expression crumpled again and she gasped in a small pathetic breath.

“Can I hold you?”

She nodded, and swallowed through the thickness in her throat as his hand moved from her cheek and slid over her skin to the back of her neck. He cupped her head delicately and brought it to rest in the juncture of his neck as his other arm secured around her body, palm flat against her back. Eddie was crouched on the floor in front of the couch so she had to lean forwards a considerable amount to hug him, but her arms wound around him tightly, locked underneath his arms as her hands curled into fists around the material of his shirt. She could tell by the way he held her alone that he was worried. His arms were gentler than normal, but perhaps even more protective. Usually he held her so tightly that it almost became difficult to breathe — arms that tightened around her with such force that he had no difficulty in lifting her off of the floor. But the way he held her then, as she cried miserably into his shoulder, it was like he was trying to protect her — a hand against the back of her head and another arm to melt her against him, completely tucked away in the safety of his arms. And she felt so embarrassed that she was so tearful and upset when they had been having a good time, but secured in his arms she at least felt a little lighter.

“I’m- I’m sorry.” For ruining the evening, she wanted to tack on.

Eddie shushed her gently, lips soft against her temple where he dropped a kiss. “Don’t apologise. Just give yourself a minute, angel. It’s okay. I’m here.”

She just nodded and pressed herself even further into him, his neck warm against her forehead. A deep shuddered breath was inhaled as she gripped onto his shirt even tighter, and he was being so nice that she couldn’t help the quiet sob that bubbled up out of her mouth. Immediately she felt the way his arms tightened around her, and she only cried for a minute or so, but by the time she’d calmed down and her breathing had evened out Eddie was holding her as tight as usual.

She kissed the exposed part of his collarbone, straightened up a little, before sitting back on the edge of the sofa to look at him. His hands flattened against her forearms and rubbed up her skin, raising goosebumps in their path. And he was ever so patient, brown eyes soft as they gazed upon her. His softness almost made her want to cry again.

“I’m… I’m okay,” he frowned, eyes crinkling slightly under his scrunched eyebrows, and she butted in before he could protest. “Really, Eddie, I’m okay. Nothings wrong.”

Eddie continued to rub her arms with his palms, the frown on his lips never ceasing. “You can tell me anything, you know,” he lifted her hand with delicate fingers and pressed his lips against her palm. “Anything.”

She nodded, and gently gripped his fingers with her own. “I don’t…” she huffed, frowning when she couldn’t figure out how to say it.

“Take your time,” he murmured the words against her palm where he left another kiss. “It’s okay.”

She pressed her lips together for a moment as she thought about her wording. “Nothings wrong, I’m… I don’t know why I’m not happy. I’ve been feeling this way all week.”

“Feeling what way, baby?”

“Just… sad.”

That was enough for him to sit forwards and pull her into a hug again, arms wound tightly around her. He hugged her with such force that he pulled her off of the sofa and completely into his arms, which was enough to make her smile against his neck. He must have felt it, because his hand came around to cup her jaw with warm fingers, tilting her head back enough to look at him.

“You promise nothing happened, sweet thing?”

The nickname made her smile and she knew that was his plan all along when he smiled slightly in return. “Promise, Eds. I just feel a little miserable this week.”

He nodded, and leaned in to kiss her delicately as his thumb brushed against her jaw. “Alright, baby,” he murmured into her mouth, pressing another few soft kisses to her lips before he leaned back to look at her with such a soft expression that she almost melted into his arms again. “What do you wanna do? You wanna nap? Take a shower?”

She just shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Eddie nodded, his free hand cupping the back of her neck as he leaned in to kiss her again. “Guess I’m just gonna have to kiss my girl until she feels better, huh?”

Despite how she felt, the thought made her a little giddy, and she couldn’t hide her smile as his lips pressed to her jaw. “Guess so.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson drabble #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things drabble

[thedoover-if]

who are you?

you’re 37.

you’re a marriage counsellor.

you’re a divorcee.

quite the irony, isn’t it?

moving on…

what were you?

monday to friday, just like in any 9-5, you, my dear, took on the role of the all-knowing marriage counsellor.

see, you were quite the talk of town; known for your great insight, marriage-saving advice, and whatever more descriptions people could come up with.

trust me, everything was going perfectly fine: you were on top of the world, and nothing could’ve knocked you down.

skip to: a rainy day, you were sat in your car, and all of a sudden there were blinding beams coming straight at you.

⭐️lights out⭐️

where were you?

you awoke in a bright white room, with the putrid scent of vomit hanging heavy in the air. any guesses yet?

*ding, ding, ding*

if you guessed a hospital, you are correct! if you didn’t – doesn’t matter, we’ll just pretend you did. good job.

long story short, a car rammed straight into yours. needles to say, the driver got away unscathed (as they tend to always do) and you, well you got off pretty well too – minus the head injury part.

where are you now?

right now, you’re stood in your humble bungalow – office set up in one of the few rooms, and well… you’re not exactly sure where to go next.

it seems like you’ve been granted the chance of a fresh start – ‘do-over’, if you will.

⭐️so, are you going to repeat the past or set out on a new path?

customise your mc: gender, name, personality, appearance – you name it.

choose one of three new career paths OR stick to the status quo.

romance one of three love interests.

rewrite your life.

and so much more!

‘the ex-spouse' [f/m] -> profile

why did you divorce?

don’t look at me, I don’t know the ins and outs of your relationship and history. don’t worry though, it seems like they’re happy to fill in all the gaps for you – the news of your accident caused them to pack their bags, fly over, and check into a nearby hotel.

pretty clingy for someone you haven’t even exchanged two words with, in the last three years… absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?

’the patient’ (but not really) [f/m] -> profile

and don’t even think about it! patients are off-limits, remember?

…even if the last time you saw them, roughly two years ago, their marriage was fine, and you parted ways amicably…. that would still be wrong, understood?

yadda yadda... they're no longer your patient, but think about the town. folks talk – you should know that better than anyone!

‘the bartender’ [f/m] -> profile

cliché, I know.. but even your highly praised self had a habit for the nightlife… mostly the wasting away at the bar, and ordering shot after shot bit. but let’s not get into that right now.

let’s just say: they’ve been a shoulder to lean on, whenever you unleashed the burdens accumulated during your working hours. honestly, marriage can be seriously depressing.

demo [tba] | faqs | forum

#thedoover if #interactive fiction #choice script #choice of games #if wip #masterpost #interactive novel

[bloomingdog]

Acolyte

word count: 2.7k a/n: hii i'm going through a depressive episode and this is my fic about soap with a depressed reader cos he's my babygirl. might expand on them idk i love soap i wanna keep writing for him

Johnny is a friend of Kyle’s, and Kyle is a friend of Farah, who is your friend. And Johnny, or Soap, is here because Kyle invited him since he had “nothing better to do”. And it’s alright, he’s fun and a little loud, he talks over people but always apologises. You were a little nervous to meet him, having been promised a get-together with people you were already well-acquaintances with, but the tears in your eyes, from laughing, that is, dismiss all previous nerves.

“And then he-” He’s cut off by his own wheeze, it’s been going for a couple of minutes; him and Kyle trying to retell a story about their captain, but they keep getting interrupted by their own laughter. You don’t think it’s that funny, if anything their reactions are the thing that make you all go into hysterics. It’s hard to feel sorry for all the other patrons. 

You feel drunker than you really are, save for Farah, you only had two to three beers each. It’s the kind of silly drunkenness induced by being with friends. The forgotten UNO cards on top of the table shake as Johnny’s fist hits the table trying to catch his breath.

And the pub’s playlist keeps playing every top #1 hit from the last 20 years. And at some point you’re all performing a rendition of smash hit “500 miles”. And you’re getting giggly with sleep. And Farah’s driving you home. And she’s asking you about Johnny, which makes you giggly all over. And she’s telling you he’s single. 

And then it’s morning. And there’s a message from an unknown phone number.

“Hey. This is Johnny. 

Just wanted to let you know I had a blast last night, loved meeting you :-)” 

It makes you smile trying to figure out what to write back. Why is it so hard to sound nonchalant while also a little interested in getting to know him? 

“So did I!

Haven’t laughed that hard in a while lol”

That’s cool, right? It’s half a good response at the very least, since you get a response back.

“Wanna meet sometime?”

Oh, that’s good. At best, you get a little attention and maybe a lay, at worst you get a new friend. You keep texting throughout the day, you two fit like a puzzle piece: talkative, extroverted and active. He sends you a picture of a squirrel he saw earlier on his morning run, you send him a picture of your cat back with the caption “my asshole son” to which he replies “don’t be mean to him”. Those little interactions keep getting exchanged. On Monday, you send him a fun fact about a shark that had a virgin birth. Tuesday, he’s telling you about his fear of dogs. Wednesday is the perfect occasion for a picture of your cat, Gus, sleeping in a funny position. Thursday, your phone pings with a string of texts ranting about Glasgow City. Friday you’re texting Johnny that you’re at the restaurant you’re meeting at, a hole-in-the-wall that mastered the art of oily food and crispy chips, he replies he’s running late.

“I’m so sorry for making you wait.” Is out of his mouth before any greeting. “Are ye hungry?” It’s more a conversation starter than an actual question.

“It’s okay! No worries.” You’re just happy to be hanging out, not bothered by his tardiness. 

The two of you sit and chat, you learn he has a tattoo of a revolver but won’t say where. He laughs at the face you make while imagining where it would be. “Don’t be dirty!” He chastises, it’s within the law that you steal one of his chips as payment for the teasing. You ask where does Soap come from.

“A’m good at cleaning.” It’s a short answer that explains enough, you’re not keen on pushing the topic any further. Luckily, he changes the topic rather quickly, it looks like he’s not a big fan of silences. “Tell me aboot Gus. How’d you get him?” 

“A colleague’s cat had kittens, she was trying to find them homes, Gus was the only one left, runt of the litter you know?” He nods, listening, interested in what you have to say. “Kept pushing and showing me pictures of the guy until I caved. When I took him home he wouldn’t stop screaming, I think he might be part siamese, they’re really vocal. So, he kept me up all night, I thought he was sick or something, I even took him to the emergency vet, turns out he’s just a dickhead.” He smiles at the insult. “A very cute one, though.” You add, it’s hard not to love him even if he wakes you up at 6 a.m. on the dot.

 “Can I meet him someday?” he might if you’re lucky enough.

You might as well thank every saint, divinity, and omnipotent being for your luck tonight. He accompanies you home, only because “he’s a gentleman”, according to him. The kind of gentleman that kisses you dizzy and gets invited into your flat.

You text Farah about the events of the evening before falling asleep, it’s not kiss and tell if she’s your best friend. And in the early morning you’re both woken up by an angry Gus, whose side of the bed has been stolen by a guy that almost doesn’t fit in it. You’re cuddled on his side, one leg over his.

“Gus-Gus….” It’s a groggy mumble of displeasure, you know he only wants to be beside you, but the hour doesn’t help your mood. Still, you move away from Johnny so he can jump onto your chest for cuddles.

“He does skirl alright.” That morning voice might actually be the death of you.

“Told you. He’s an asshole.” A breathy laugh makes his bare chest move as he turns to face you.

“He’s real cute though.”

“Are you not tired?” The early morning light peeks through your window, the sun isn’t even out yet and you can’t imagine anyone that is appreciative of being woken up so early.

“Naw, no’ really. ‘M used to it.” 

It feels weird, good weird, to have him in your bed like that. Barely a week since you met, and he feels so close, more like a friend than a one-night stand, more than a friends-with-benefits. He checks the time on his phone before speaking again.

“Ye want breakfast?” Your eyes are closed again, hugging Gus close to your chest, hand moving up and down his fur but not doing much to pet him. His call of your name is answered by a groan, it makes him chuckle. He scoots closer to you, you can feel his arm coming up for Gus to sniff and the cat readjusts himself so his head is closer to Johnny’s. “Hi”.

Oh but the warmth dissipating from his body is to much, that and the soft noise of Gus’ purr drives you to fall asleep again. You only half dream, a mixture of images that won’t make any sense once you’re awake again, which happens rather soon as the bed adjusts and you feel a hand run through your hair. 

“Can I make tea?” His voice sounds softer than earlier, you nod, opening your eyes just a smidge to look up at him.

“Biscuits in the cupboard…”That’s as much as you can muster now. “Wake me up when it's done?”

“Course.” 

He left with Gus following behind, but you can’t seem to fall asleep again. That was…rather intimate. Your stomach feels hot and your chest tighter. Shooting your eyes open you’re quick to grab your phone again, Farah replied an hour ago.

“Wooo! Good for you”

“You’re gonna have to tell me everything about it btw”

“Farah”

“How pathetic is it to have a crush on your one night stand?”

Oh you don’t like that, calling him a one night stand, feels too impersonal, rude almost.

You’re getting out of bed, into your restroom and to the kitchen. 

“Good morning” He leans against the kitchen counter where your meds are,he’s looking at his phone waiting for the kettle to boil, clad in his boxers from last night, hair a mess and body soft under the morning light. Even though it’s the same body it feels so different from last night, scars, bigger and small, litter his body, it’s muscular and soft at the same time, big pecs a tad too inviting and a tattoo on his forearm. Reaching for the pills would mean standing next to him, probably brushing against—no, touching him, and that makes you nervous. Oh. You’re embarrassingly down bad. 

He stayed the entire weekend, Friday through Sunday. Next week it was picnic and football. You’re convinced any major team would be jealous of your 1-person teams and 5 meter field. He’s good, but you’re full of fear as he chases you for the ball, it’s the predator-prey kinda adrenaline that makes you score. 

“Yes!” 

“Offside! Offside!”

“What do you mean offside? There’s no one I can pass the ball to!” In fact, there’s not even a goal. You grab the ball and go back to him, looking straight into his eyes in fake defiance. 

“Talking back to the referee? That’s a red card.” He looks so handsome like this, standing tall and unmovable, even if only joking, and you let him know via a quick kiss to his lips. He’s pulling you back to his lips not even half a second after, deep and slow, giggly. “Bribin’ me, huh?” You let out a soft, happy, sigh and kiss him again.

“Wanna go home?”

You tell Farah everything over a cup of tea and a piece of cake, of course. And she laughs at you, not in a mean way at all, only friendly and amused, still you hit her arm.

And the following week it’s film night. This one’s more spontaneous than the others, it’s been a tough week at work, you want a quiet evening and some company so you ask him if he wants to come hang out, he replies saying that he’ll be there in 30.

It’s the two of you, your favourite take out, Gus-Gus sitting on the back of the sofa and Fargo on the TV. He’s not paying as much attention to the film as he is to you.

“What?” You say, turning to look at him.

“Ye’r a beauty.” You smile shyly and kick him on the leg with your foot slightly. “A’m serious. I like you a lot.” A big smile grows on your face, and it’s enough confirmation for him to know you feel the same.

Or at least he thought so. There are no plans for this weekend, not for lack of trying, that is, Soap’s been trying to text you all week, it’s a big shift from your daily texting. He misses the little life updates you send him. Tuesday, he thought you might just be busy. Wednesday he stops trying to contact you, did he do something wrong? Went too fast? Are you ghosting him? What did he do that was worth the silent treatment? Thursday, he tries calling you, multiple times. Friday all rational thoughts have left his brain, did something happen to you? Are you okay? Christ, what if you’re dead? He texts Farah, swallowing his embarrassment.

“She’s okay, I think.”

“Going through a bit of a depression episode at the moment.”

“She’s going recluse, I know she wouldn’t mind a bit of help.”

“I have a spare key to her flat if you want to come get it.”

The string of texts floats around his mind, spare key in hand in front of your front door. He’s been inside before, but he was invited in, this feels invasive, but Farah trusted him, and she knew you best. He sent you a message before showing up, the last bit of chivalry he can offer before showing up in your home, it went through, and he hoped you read it even if you didn’t reply. 

He calls your name upon entering, no response. Gus comes running up to him to headbutt his legs and meow, a quick look lets him know his water bowl is clean and automatic feeder full, that’s a good sign. His voice trembles as he calls for you again. 

“You know where she is?” Great, now he’s speaking to the cat, and he meows in response, great, an actual conversation with a cat. Gus takes off and squeezes himself into a room with the door ajar, your bedroom. He knocks before entering, not expecting a response. The room is dark except for the light coming from your laptop, empty and half-full glasses taking up most of the space on your desk, chair full of unfolded clothes and a doughnut of blankets on the bed.

“Go away.” The doughnut speaks. His heart breaks at the sad, much softer than usual tone of your voice.

“Love.” The pet name slips from his lips, he notices but doesn’t attempt to correct himself. He walks closer until he’s sitting next to you. “Can I help you?” 

You shake your head no, or what’s visible of it. “Go away, I stink.” He chuckles.

“That’s fine, smell better than the lads in base.” It’s a pathetic attempt at humour, you still shake your head no.

“You don’t have to do anything.” You don’t sound sad or angry like he thought you might, it’s emotionless, almost like an automatic generated response.

“But I want to. Want tae tak’ care o ye” He wants to make everything better, wants to fix everything, wants you happy and energetic and smiling. It’s silly how much he cares for you after barely a month of knowing eachother, scary now that he’s admitting it out loud. He pulls down the blankets for a full view of your face, his hand goes to your hair, it’s tangled, he’s careful not to pull on it. “Am gunna run you a bath.” It’s not a question, you laugh slightly and he smiles, realising what he said. “Didny mean it like that, c’mon.” 

He helps you up from the bed and into the restroom. From your seat ion the toilet, you observe the way he turns on the tap and rummages through your cabinet, trying to find something to put in the water, you assume. “The orange bar in the back.” He halts, looks for a second and comes up with it, he leaves it on the sink while he turns off the water, you grab the bar and crumble a bit of it into the tub. He looks at you and gets up, you take it as your cue to undress and get in. Johnny comes back with a change of pyjamas and underwear and leaves again. You can hear him moving around and making noise, talking to the cat in occasion, while you clean yourself, when he comes back it’s to put your dirty laundry in the hamper. You don’t know why that’s the thing that makes you break and start crying. As soon as he notices, he’s on his knees next to you, softly caressing your cheeks and moving your damp hair away from your face.

“Whit’s wrong?” 

“I don’t want you to do this.” Is no reply to his question. “I don’t want you to have to do this.”

“M’eudail.” He starts. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not!” You look up at him” I’m so sad all the fucking time and I don’t want you to have to deal with that, it’s not fair to you, you know? I don’t want you to have to take care of me or put up with me.”

“But what if I want to? Wanna take care of you, wanna put up with you.” You shake your head no, looking back down.

“Johnny, I’m so much. I get so clingy and stupid.” 

“That’s fine by me.” There’s no deterring him. He lifts your head up by your chin to kiss your forehead, bright blue eyes staring at you. 

And you realise how ridiculous this is. You’re crying in the bathtub, your friend-situationship is on his knees next to you, again, crying in the bathtub. You let out a sigh and nod.

“Okay.” 

#cod mw2 fanfic #cod x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish x you #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x you #soap x you

[crystallizedkingdoms]

TAZ NC: Forget

Avi’s memory fails for the first time.

wc: 1,210

you can also read this on ao3 <3

my first fic for @taznovembercelebration. twirls hair. I’m most likely gonna be veryyyy inconsistent (aiming for Sunday, Monday, Wednesdays, and Fridays but no prommy) and very likely gonna be pretty johavi centric so well theres that. but it’s okay it’s gonna be very fun yayy!!! yippeee! Enjoy 💖💖💖

Memory falters on the third anniversary of the Day of Story and Song. 

Avi’s memory was far, far too good on the first anniversary. Every single memory seemed to plague his mind that first night, his voice stuck in the cracks of his broken heart that no amount of drink could fill. The second anniversary went much, much better, as Magnus dragged him out of the house to enjoy the musical festivities celebrated all in Johann’s— his  Johann’s— honour.

When the third anniversary comes around, Avi’s in his home, but there is no drink in sight. The living room window is open, sunbeams and symphonies from a nearby celebration fill the house with music and life. Avi hums along to every note, all of it memorized so deeply he’s convinced that each piece has been etched into his soul. Avi sits down on his chair closest to the window and lets his eyes rest. The afternoon festivals tend to be a little too happy than what Avi is ready for, so instead he waits by the window, listening to the sounds of bards trying their best to match Johann’s greatness.

Avi’s hums verberate in his chest. He follows along with one piece, the closest to him, and matches along with every note possible. This piece, oh how popular it’s gotten, is one that Johann had written after Magic Brian had died. The rumours surrounding the piece have been strange, and it was one of the first things to make him laugh in his first year of depression.

“…Can you believe they think it’s some secret love song you had for him?” Avi whispers. To nobody, to somebody, but not to everybody. “It’s a little funny, honestly. I’m not mad. You’ve written plenty enough cheesy love songs for him that I can actually make fun of you for. No need to make up another one.”

It’s kind of an embarrassing habit, Avi knows. Gods forbid anyone, especially Magnus, heard that he still falls into this little spell of talking to a lover who’s no longer here. Avi wouldn’t hear the end of it. That’s why he reserves it for quiet days like these. Alone and loving.

Avi strains his ears and listens. One, two, three… there! “Hah. They always fail on that one, you know? Yeah, you probably know. You probably get pissed about it all the time up there. Maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to show off all the time, even in your intimate compositions.” It’s a silly jab, he knows that Johann wasn’t necessarily showing off. He was just that good, in private and in public. There was no need to pretend he wasn’t.

Still, Avi loves to poke fun at him and the performers. That connection, however frail, is easy and hard to forget. I mean, come on, it’s impossible to forget their banter from back then. It’s Avi’s own little form of song, something so unique to them that he remembers it like the back of his hand. Johann says something serious, Avi teases something about the way it was said or why Johann said it, and Johann would quip back. 

Avi tries to imagine what Johann would say in response. 

Not my fault they can’t reach my fucking level. 

Wow. That sounds… weirdly mean. No, no, Johann wasn’t that rude. How silly.

I wasn’t showing off, dude. And it was barely intimate. 

Ugh, no. Johann didn’t sound like that. He didn’t sound like that at all. Did he?

Avi feels his heart pound in his chest. 

Hah, right. I think it cements my place as the best violinist ever. These guys can’t match my level if they tried, 

That felt more right, but the voice in his head didn’t match. Johann’s voice was deeper than that? But, no, it wasn’t too deep. And it couldn’t have been that monotone, right? 

Avi’s eyes open and he straightens up on his seat. The music from the outside world becomes loud, far too loud, and suddenly he doesn’t want to hear it. He can’t hear it. How could he stand to hear it, when he’s struggling to hear his boyfriend’s voice clear in his mind? Why couldn’t he remember what Johann really sounded like?

Avi. His own name. Avi would remember what Johann saying his name would sound like, right? Avi, Avi, Avi, Johann would always say his name like that, under his breath, like it’s the most important word in the world. Avi imagines it in his head, and he thinks that’s it. That’s Johann’s voice. No need to worry, he’s still there. Avi hasn’t forgotten Johann.

…but the inkling of doubt clouds Avi’s mind like a familiar static.

Avi stumbles out of his chair. He reaches and shuts the window closed again, and suddenly, the thought of ever opening them makes him feel sick. Avi casts away any thoughts of music or festivities and he tries to focus only on Johann, Johann, Johann as his hands search his living room. His brain scrambles to pick up each and every memory of Johann, searching deep for the memory of voice. Yet every memory sounds slightly different. Some sound completely stranger to him. Some sound almost like a parody of what Johann must have sounded like.

Avi opens the junk drawer of a console table. His hand dives into the garbage of years well-lived until his fingers grasp a smooth, round object. He picks it up with trembling hands. Shortly after the Day of Story and Song, Lucas Miller had created small copies of a device that recorded the knowledge sent out by the Voidfish. Including the bard’s final inspiration. 

He had sworn off of using it during that second year, after he listened to it nonstop during his first year of pain. Avi wonders how terrible of a mistake he has made. Avi clicks the button right in the middle and his pounding heartbeat roars in his ears so loud that he worries he won’t hear Johann’s words. But they shine through. They always do. 

“You’re going to have to fight. And… you’re gonna win!” Johann’s voice pierces through the silent room. Avi’s breath hitches in his throat. He has a low voice, as Avi remembered, but has it always been as deep as that? His voice is passionate, as all were on that fateful day, but even then his distinctive flat tone gives him away. The voice is so familiar, yet jarringly surprising to hear.

How could Avi forget Johann’s voice?

“Oh, Johann,” Avi cracks. Tears swell up in his eyes with no second to recuperate. He presses the button once again, and he listens to Johann’s voice. His heart aches to remember every single little inflection in every syllable, every tone, until Avi could never forget it again. How could he forget it? When all that Johann ever asked for was to be remembered, his boyfriend can’t even fulfill that only three fucking years later— 

Avi pulls the device to his chest and sobs. “Johann,” Avi cries out. Repeating his name and pressing that button over and over and over and over again. Until it drowns out any piece of music in remembrance of Johann that plays outside. Until memory falters, and an obsession relapses.

#taz november celebration #taz nc #taz balance #taz avi #taz johann #johavi #my writing

[sugarcreambiteskingdom]

New Account, New Fandom to be addicted to :D

I'll be posting some of my favorite ships here and make some hc's, fanfiction and other stuff(with other cookies also from Cookie Run Kingdom)

I'll also be posting my OC's here and there backstory and bonds with the other Cookies and if you guys have any question about them then go ahead and ask them!

Don't be shy

And I'm actually feeling a little adventurous here so uh...

I'll be taking Requests and no this is not an "x Reader(Romantic)" blog it's all platonic because I have my own ships here so uh...yeah

My Oc Master list(If interested):

Request: Open!

Schedule:

I can only accept Request at Monday-Friday Philippines Times Zone

I will NOT accept any requests at Saturday-Sunday

Any Gender!

LGBTQ+

What I will accept:

"x Reader's" ONLY

If it's a minor it's automatically Platonic

ALL COOKIES(Cookie Run Kingdom and ovenbreak only!)

Gore/Violence

Angst

Dark Themes

Headcannons/One shots/etc

NSFW but not too revealing/hard

I will accept to write for 1 up to 6 Cookies

What I will NOT Accept:

Pedophile

Dead threats towards A/N or Any Anons(I will deleted you)

Hate for any Ships I mention(Just leave the blog if you don't like it)

Kinks of any kind

Bullying any of the Anons

My Ship Cookie's that I will also write for!(I'll add more in the near Future):

Pure Vanilla Cookie x White Lily Cookie

(Bro's a simp)

Hollyberry Cookie x Dark Cacao Cookie

(Single Parents relationship, Dude needs happy energy from Holly rn-)

Dark Enchantress Cookie x Tea Knight Cookie(FIGHT ME-)(jk)

(The Smart Villain Leader x The Secretly Softy Good Leader-)

Pomegranate Cookie x Twizzly Gummy Cookie

(The Serious x The Insane)

Dark Choco Cookie x Milk Cookie

(Boy depressed? Have Milk Cookie)

Licorice Cookie x Clover Cookie

(The Pathetic- I mean the Villain who tries to be x The Support but ends up making villain give up and be good in the end, Kind of-)

Affogato Cookie x Cream Unicorn Cookie

(The Cold Hearted Cookie x The Cookie that is WAY too innocent for there own good-)

Gingerbrave x Wizard Cookie

(The Idiot x The Smart one)

Strawberry Cookie x GingerBright Cookie

(introvert x Extrovert)

Princess Cookie x Knight Cookie

(The Princess(Knight-) and their Knight and shining armour(Princess-) obvs)

Espresso Cookie x Fig Cookie

(Overworked x The one who make them touch grass)

Moonlight Cookie x Mercurial Cookie

(Forbidden Love- 🙊)

Sherbet Cookie x Silverbell Cookie

(The Happy, Goofy and Softies-)

Herb Cookie x Crème Brûlée Cookie

(Both are Oblivious- Danggit Herb and Crème!-)

(Edit 1)

Avocado Cookie x Wildberry Cookie

(The Pun x The I don't get it but it did made me chuckle a little once I did get it-)

Crunchy Chip Cookie x Tiger Lily Cookie

(The Wild Couple)

Werewolf Cookie x Kumiho Cookie

(The Cookies who wants to be an ordinary Cookie)

(Edit 2: Oc's)

Shadow Milk Cookie x Strawberry Jam Cookie

(The Joker x The one who always laughs at there jokes and acts)

Silent Salt Cookie x Peanut Butter Cookie

(Introvert x Extrovert)

Elder Faerie Cookie x Sour Cream Cookie

(Old Love 💕😘)

Longan Cookie x Apple Cherry Cookie

(The Emotionless x The Kind and Childish)

Pitaya Cookie x Cherry Apple Cookie

(Get into fights x There personal nurse)

(Not OC's)

Vampire Cookie x Frilled Jellyfish Cookie

(Arrogant/Prankster x Goofy/Bubbly)

Latte Cookie x Caramel Arrow Cookie

(Magic User x Weapon User)

Devil Cookie x Angel Cookie

(It's in the name- and Enemies to Lovers 😍)

(Edit 3)

Xylitol Nova Cookie x Sea Fairy Cookie

(I can fix her x I might make him worse...)

(Edit 4/Oc)

Red Velvet Cookie x Royal Margarine Cookie x Rainbow Gingerbread Cookie

(Dog Lover x Dragon Lover x Animal/Insect Lover)

(Edit 5/Oc):

Ananas Dragon Cookie x Mango Slices Cookie

(Prideful x Shameful)

(Edit 6/Oc)

Butter Roll Cookie x Coral Petal Cookie

(Scientist/Researcher x Plant Researcher)

(Edit 7)

Madeleine Cookie x Kouign-Amann Cookie

(The Drama King x The Sassy Queen)

(Edit 8)

Captain Ice Cookie x Abalone Cookie

(Girl Boss x The Goof)

===============================

The (Only) Daycare/School Of SugarCreamBites Kingdom

==============================================================

That's all!

I'll edit this if I came up with some more things to put in

Enjoy Asking/Requesting!

#cookie run kingdom #crk #cookie run ovenbreak #cro #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run ovenbreak x reader #y/n

[queer-cosette]

Here we go, the first original song I've ever posted online.

Hard Loud Fast is about my experience with suicidal ideation as a teenager living in the FUCK zone of overlapping depression, anxiety, and undiagnosed ADHD. It gets explicit with what exactly I was thinking about doing, so PLEASE proceed with caution. I'll post the lyrics under a cut just to be safe.

I'm no longer suicidal - I wrote this after talking to my therapist and realising there was a whole bunch of shit that I'd just... never processed. I'd boxed up a lot of stuff in the back of my mind and never examined it, largely out of shame. I hope to write more - there's a lot more to process, and I need it known that this dark stuff is coming from a good place: I'm healthy and happy enough to examine it now without being overwhelmed by it.

Hard Loud Fast lyrics

Grey’s reserved for Mondays, Friday should be gold But Friday’s turning grey now - I’ve never felt this cold I’m walking through the station And everyone is waiting For the train I’d get to take me home

Passing through the turnstile, lurching down the stairs Feels like every empty gaze is an accusing glare I can hear the train now I’m sick of all this pain now I kind of want to jump to see who cares

I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud I want it to be fast, but I don’t wanna die I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud I want it to be fast, but I still don’t know why Do I really want to take that leap While everyone here is watching me? I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud I want it to be fast, but I don’t wanna say goodbye

Gotta make my mind up before the train arrives Maybe dead I’ll get the respect I didn’t get alive I hope my friends will miss me And my ex will wish she’d kissed me One last time, ‘cause this decision’s finally mine!

I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud I want it to be fast, but I don’t wanna die I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud I want it to be fast, but I still don’t know why Do I really want to take that leap While everyone here is watching me? I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud I want it to be fast, but I don’t wanna say goodbye

Maybe I just want someone to see me Maybe I just want someone to hear me Maybe I just want someone to stop me Someone to understand

What would I do if somebody saw me? How would it feel if somebody heard me? Would I be glad if somebody stopped me? Reached out and took my hand? If for once someone held my hand?

I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud I want it to be fast, but I don’t wanna die I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud I want it to be fast, but I still don’t know why

I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud I want it to be fast, but I don’t wanna die I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud I want it to be fast, but I still don’t know why Do I really want to take that leap While everyone here is watching me? I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud I want it to be fast, but I don’t wanna say goodbye

I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud (Maybe I just want someone to see me) I want it to be fast, but I don’t wanna die (Maybe I just want someone to hear me) I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud (Maybe I just want someone to stop me) I want it to be fast, but I still don’t know why (Someone to understand) Do I really want to take that leap (What would I do if somebody saw me?) While everyone here is watching me? (How would it feel if somebody heard me?) I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud (Would I be glad if somebody stopped me?) I want it to be fast, but I don’t wanna say goodbye (Reached out and took my hand?)

I want it to be hard, I want it to be loud I want it to be fast I don’t know what I want…

#coco sings #check your baggage #hard loud fast #original song #suicidal thoughts mention #past suicidal ideation

[solarisgod]

So today, we were given the opportunity from a supervisor to work with our organization's different program next Monday to Thursday at 9am to 5pm that focuses on making these products and packaging them, as this program job is offered to autistic individuals who can do these tasks usually after they graduate from the program that us cluster have been working in and are qualified to work at a professional setting. Our supervisor told me this team was looking for an intern who could work most days while they're organized, and it's just...

With us at a different work campus to fill in for an absent facilitator until Friday, it just makes me beyond happy and proud to believe that I'm making such a great impact with this organization while I'm being seen as so trustworthy and diligent to get these work opportunities and experiences and connecting with this organization more. We'll be finishing placement on December 14th before entering our final semester of the program, and I really do not want to go. I can't juggle between work and education at all, so I'd have to wait and see if I can apply a job there in spring.

But the fact that we're this farr to the journey that's coming to an end? It's so crazy to vaguely remember our orientation day and first work day, and now we're trusted enough to be given more different responsibilities across different areas for not just them, but ourselves as well, and I'm just forever extremely happy and grateful to get to work here. I've even said it to my supervisor of our original work campus during our mid term meeting with my placement supervisor few weeks ago that I'm really happy to work at this organization that's so welcoming and accepting and supportive.

I've improved so much even before placement when we had to do placement searching and these interviews, and it's insane to me that I wasn't at all anxious with the interviews or reaching out. I was depressed and suicidal across the summer that we wouldn't secure the placement by September because we'd have to wait a whole year to do it and I had already wasted a year because I didn't know we had to do a bridge in summer course in order to enter the bachelor course, but the lack of anxiety in general and having more confidence in my future is just everything to me.

The first year college and high school Astrifer would never ever believe that xyr life could get better over time despite everything, but it has and it will so much more.

#𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ OOC . › #[ am rambling about placement work ] #[ let's see if I can use any of these for my final assignment due on December 4 lmfao ] #[ anyways I'm just. so content with this ; I so so so hope that we'll get an official position with this place after graduation ] #[ even few of my colleagues yesterday were shocked to hear my placement will be finishing soon and they were ] #[ like ' noooooo please don't go! apply!!! ' so it's just. ] #[ extremely nice to know I am capable of doing something good while I can actually mean something in the end. ]

[sp00ky-p00ky]

Good morning ☀️ and Happy Monday 💜

Well, maybe not "happy" and kinda just more Monday.

I'm actually very excited. On Friday, Chris will be here, and we are going to Comic Con 🥰 I literally can't wait because I've been missing him a lot lately. I can't wait for him to be here and for us to have some fun together ❤️

But I have not been feeling right lately. It's been taking everything in me to deal with work and a boss who seems to despise me. Then, to come home and try my best for my Minis. My house needs to be cleaned before my boyfriend gets here, but my energy level is non-existent. Which makes me feel extremely guilty. And people who I normally turn to just aren't available. So I don't bother anyone because these are my issues and no one's responsibility but my own. But I'm feeling very useless and alone at the moment.

I know I'm being hard on myself and I may delete this but this is what depression does. So now that I've watched 3 episodes of Queer Eye and cried, I'm going to take a shower and see if that fixes me and see what I can get accomplished today

💜

#personal #it's monday #tw depression

[yourlocalartsonist]

ROTTMNT Moths Fly In Packs - Chapter One

A/N: HI I’M FINALLY POSTING THE FIRST CHAPTER. Really excited and super nervous but I’m SO happy I can finally share this with everyone. I’m not doing a drawing for every chapter since that’d be selling my soul to the red dilf down below but this is the first chapter so I figured why not do something special. Also apologies if any of the characters seem ooc, I’m still learning how to write them so it might take a bit (especially the dialogue). Also also, sorry if the formatting seem weird, I just copy pasted a google doc into Tumblr and I haven’t entirely figured out how this app works yet. ANYWHIZZLE despite all that I hope y’all enjoy and I can’t wait to write more ^^

Next Chapter

Masterlist

Disclaimer: chapter involves themes of manipulation, violence, and curse words. If you’re sensitive to that stuff, scroll past and stay safe <3

I looked out the window and sighed. Today could have been a lot worse, sure, but it also could’ve been a whole lot better.

It was one am on a Monday night. Staying up this late this early in the week is gonna guarantee a begrudgingly painful school life till Friday. And yet, here I was, staring at my phone at his texts.

Zane: Hey! You were active on insta. How come you didn’t text back?

Zane: hey it’s been an hour now. I’m starting to worry about you

Zane: Salena are you ignoring me? I already said I was sorry

Zane: fine then. Don’t text me. But at least talk to me tomorrow. I miss you.

Zane: Goodnight.

He was getting clingier by the day. Last month when he asked me out, I was worried rejecting him would break his heart. Somehow, it looks like it had the opposite effect and boosted his ego since he’s only gotten more pushy after that. I mean today he picked a fight with a guy just for talking to me. It’s getting ridiculous.

I groaned and hopped off bed to get a drink of water. I know I should probably forgive him, I’m sure he’s just coping differently maybe. It’ll get better with time. I hope it gets better with time. Otherwise the next four months are gonna be excruciatingly long. Still, I can’t just not be mad after what he did.

As I lamented in my depressive thoughts, I saw four figures out the window, running from rooftop to rooftop. Smiling, I opened the window and let the cool air and the joyous voices flow in. At least one good thing’s coming out from today.

It looked like they were chasing someone, a giant pig man specifically. I would’ve been more freaked out if this was the first human-animal thing I saw.

The very first time I saw one was a giant bull in a bellboy uniform running along the sidewalk, clumsily knocking anything and everything over as he wept. I assumed my sleep deprived brain was probably making things up again but the sheer absurdity of it paired with the fact that my sleep schedule was actually decent that week, I began to question that guess. Then, only ten minutes later, seeing four human-sized turtles walking upright seemingly searching for the bull man sealed the deal that I could not be making this shit up.

But that was two or three years ago. Now, it’s more of a fun surprise seeing the new animal person of the week than a sanity-questioning spiral. Most often, I see the turtles passing by. Sometimes they’re goofing off or skateboarding. Other times, they’re chasing someone like right now. I can only assume the pig man is evil if he’s being chased by them. I know the turtles are good since I suspect they’re the “mysterious heroes” that saved New York from that-which-shall-not-be-named a few months back. I mean, who else could it be?

Even if they’re chasing a potential murderous lunatic, they seem like they’re having fun. They’re all smiling and laughing and whizzing around everywhere, just looking at them gives me an adrenaline rush.

I stared out the window longingly as they zipped by, disappearing into the night. Maybe the late night was getting to my brain, but things just felt worse than usual this time. I’ve been watching these four go by my window at least once a week for so long. They always look so fun to be around. Free-spirited and zany, the exact opposite of everyone in my life. Maybe I really am going insane but for once I just want to know them, to see them up close. And if I’m feeling particularly crazy, I might even say hello.

I found my body edging closer and closer out the window. The fire-escape does lead all the way down, and I’m only on the sixth floor anyway. It’s not exactly a fast distance to the ground but it wouldn’t be too bad if I run…

Before I knew it, I was already out dashing in their direction to catch up. I’ve only ever dreamed of having enough courage to actually attempt this. If my aunt finds out I snuck out my grave will be dug and that’s not an exaggeration.

Yet somehow, that didn’t stop me. My skin felt numb from the cold wind, my hair was going crazy behind me. I felt pain in my cheeks from how much I was smiling. I guess I am feeling particularly crazy tonight.

***

By the time I caught up with them, I was embarrassingly out of breath. They were now all ground level in an alleyway and I was hiding just around the corner, close enough to listen in. A little nervous if they can hear my hideous dying dog pants, not just because it would blow my cover but also for the sake of my prestige. They seem a little too distracted by the pig man to notice me, though.

“Alright, meathead! Give us the poison, or I’m gonna smash your head into the wall and keep smashing till I smash the wall down with my smashy little fists!”

Note to self: the red one likes smashing.

“Oh get stuffed you annoying little rats! Can’t a guy sabotage his rival chef’s excuse of a business in peace?”

“GASP! He’s defaming rats!”

They broke out into a fight over what looked to be a large bag of, assumedly, poison. The pig man’s tentacle arms were whipping all over the place, trying to land a blow on the turtles. Oh and apparently his arms can extend which I would find cool if it weren’t for how gross it looked. It’s all drippy and squishy-looking and weird, not a texture I’d want to be near.

I won’t lie, I was kind of distracted from the danger I put myself in since being this close allowed me to properly see the turtles fight. At first glance it looks like they’re flailing all over the place, but it’s actually in a more cohesive way. The blue turtle teleported around and sliced the tentacles attacking them, the red one went in for a punch with giant fists at any opening. Purple guy had glowing guns in his signature color all shooting at the same time and the orange turtle swung around hitting pig man with any object his fiery chains landed on. My god was I awestruck watching them all in action. I was so busy gawking I barely even registered the magic weapons.

One of the flame chains got a hold of his leg and sent the pig guy flying backwards, losing grip of his poison bag.

“Heads up!” The blue one yelled as the bag soared through the air. All the turtles attempted catching it while the pig man’s tentacle arm followed close behind the bag. It looked like it was about to be body horror Peppa Pig’s win.

So I stepped out and grabbed the bag before he could. All eyes now on me, I made a run for it in the other direction realizing how exposed I was. Behind me I could hear a confused “Who was that?” sounding like it was from the purple guy.

Yeah, sure, maybe this wasn’t the smartest move but if I’m getting myself involved I might as well be useful.

I’d break in and out of thought every time I crashed into a wall or slid on the ground. I was never exactly known for my clearly graceful nature. My body started aching. Still I kept running, only stopping to throw a rock or two at one of the stringy pink arms behind me. Seriously, why does that dude have to be so puke-worthy.

A silver blur sped right past my head. The glowing sword stopped in front of me and a familiar blue turtle appeared out of thin air.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

As much as I pride myself on reflexes, the initial shock didn’t wear off fast enough to prevent me from crashing into him and falling back on the ground. I barely had an impact on him, though, since he was still standing perfectly fine with a hand on his hip and the other gripping his weapon.

“Look pal, I have been heroing all week and as much as I love fighting villains and looking badass, I say we make this fast and you just tell me who sent you.”

“S-sent me?” It took me a while to catch on. Not my best day, I know.

“Oh, no no no! I'm not working for anyone! I was trying to help. See?”

I held out the bag towards him, hoping that would convince him I’m not a threat. To my surprise, instead of taking it, he squinted his eyes and me and crouched down to match my height.

“You know, you look kinda familiar. Have we met before?..”

I was too stunned to respond.

Back when I first saw the turtles, after seeing the human bull, I overheard them talking about him and wanting to find him. The blue one especially, he seemed extremely guilty about something. I figured I’d help but I wasn’t brave enough to just go up to them and tell them I saw the bull. I’m too shy to even approach regular humans, these were talking anthropomorphic turtles. So instead I threw a note down and it bounced off blue’s head. He looked at it, read it, then looked up at me. I poked my head out from behind the fire escape and gave an awkward wave, trying to let him know I was on their side. It worked since he directed his team towards where I wrote the bull man went.

I remember later that same night, he knocked on my window. I was a bit freaked out admittedly and hid away by instinct. I wasn’t exactly expecting to see them again.

“Oookay. Well.” I could tell he wasn’t sure how to deal with me. I was regretting hiding but my legs were frozen in place.

“I don’t know if you can hear me since the window’s closed but I wanted to say thanks for the note. We found our guy way faster than we would’ve if we kept having to use Raph’s ideas.” He let out a playful chuckle.

I felt my heart melt a little. I don’t know what I was expecting but it wasn’t really that. I don’t usually hear things like that often.

“So yeah uh, if you can still hear me, thank you.”

My legs started working again as I heard him leap off to leave. I opened the window and rushed out to the fire escape. Luckily, he was on the ground not too far away from me. I called out to him.

“Salena!”

He turned around and saw me. “What?”

I beamed brighter and yelled again.

“My name is Salena!”

“Salena?” His voice brought me back to present day.

“You remember me?”

He let out a cheery laugh. “Of course I remember you! I told you, your note was the only reason we found Bullhop so fast that day.”

“But that was years ago.” I sighed in disbelief as he helped me to my feet.

“And? No face has ever escaped ol’ Neon Leon’s noggon!” He proudly pointed to his brain. I debated telling him the word was noggin.

We heard voices in the distance.

“PUNCHING LIKE A BOSS!!”

“I SWEAR ONE DAY I’LL TURN YOU ALL INTO STEW!”

“GUYS! He wants to turn me into stew!”

“Mikey, that’s not a good thing.”

“Says you! I’d make a delicious stew, thank you very much, Dee!”

“Welp, duty calls! Let’s get you to safety.” With that, he opened a blue portal and pulled me through it to a nearby rooftop. So his swords can teleport and open portals??

“You think you can keep this bag with you?”

I managed to nod.

He gave a smirk and stepped back through his portal to rejoin the battle.

“Leo! Where’s the bag?”

“And the person who stole the bag?” I could still hear red and purple speak.

“Relax, they’re a friend, they’re keeping the bag safe.”

“A new friend?! OMIGOSH!!” Orange seemed excited

The fight picked up fiercer than before. It was hard to keep up with the turtles and the chaos of their weapons. Orange flames, purple lasers, sheathing metal. The ground shook at every red flash. All the while, the air filled with lively laughter and jokes.

Pig man wasn’t going down easy, either. He pounded his giant spiky mallet, probably matching the force of red’s hits. I know they’re experienced fighters and all, but I felt a bit useless sitting around and doing nothing. I looked around for some way I could help.

Luckily, something caught my attention. On the left side of the roof, I could see a pile of bricks laying around. More than perfect for knocking out a mutant. Now the question is how to get them down.

I saw a flash of blue out the corner of my eye.

Bingo.

Screaming at the top of my lungs, hoping my voice wouldn’t be drowned out, I called out to him.

“Blue! Hey, blue up here!”

He followed my voice to where I was, looking a bit confused and worried I was giving myself away.

I pointed to the brick in my hand. “Make a portal on top of him!”

I saw his face light up as he understood my plan. “Great idea!”

As he dashed off, a blue portal opened near me. I rushed around the roof, grunting as I pushed the bricks in. Blue threw a sword in the air, appeared right above the pig, and opened the other side of the portal, letting all the bricks rain down on him. They all looked a bit surprised seeing around 8 or 10 bricks hit him on the head, blue included. Yeah, sure, maybe pushing all of them in was a bit overkill but seeing how crazy powerful this guy was, I didn’t want to risk it.

And boy, was he out cold. The four turtles made their way up the roof, I presume to get the bag of poison.

I glanced back down at the pig “So like…he’s not dead is he?”

“Meatsweats? Nah that guy’s handled way worse.” Blue said strangely casually. “Good thinking with the bricks, btdubs.”

I’d appreciate the compliment more but I was still struggling to figure out what could possibly be worse than bricks to the head.

“Yeah, thanks for your help back there with the poison, too.” red rubbed his neck and gave a sweet smile. For a big guy he seems awfully friend-shaped.

“I’m Raph. These are my brothers Leo, Mikey, and Donnie.” Leo struck a pose, Mikey waved like his life depended on it, and Donnie…well he was just on his phone with his shell turned towards me. It’s a cool shell, at least. I never noticed it wasn’t a real one before.

“I’m Salena. Nice to meet you all.”

People used to tell me I ask too many questions so I got into the habit of just keeping my tongue bit. But I would’ve exploded if I didn’t seize the moment today to find out what the hell was going on. I’m bad at social situations, anyway, might as well be on purpose.

“So if you don’t mind me asking…What are you? How do you exist? Where’d you get your weapons? Did you make your shell yourself? Who was that guy? Can I see what’s in this bag?”

“AHEM! I’m glad you asked!” Donnie turned his attention towards me, dramatically answering my questions. “We, weird human, are the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (trademark). And yes, my battle shell is indeed Genius Built technology. Made this baby when I was twelve.”

“We’re mutant turtles!-”

“Literally just said that in the name Micheal”

“Still think Mad Dogz was better.”

“-And we were made in Draxum’s lab to take over the world back when he was going through his ‘bad boy’ phase but we ended up being heroes instead. Pretty cool right?”

“Hey, inquiry for you actually, why’d you help us anyway?”

I awkwardly answered Donnie, telling them about my luck of random mutants frequently passing by my window. Apparently some of them were Yōkai, Raph said there was a whole Hidden City of them and a doorway leading to it near where I lived. I was a little surprised at how happy they all looked listening to me talk. Usually I’d be told to shut up by now so this was a nice change of pace.

“What happened to your arm?” Leo pointed to the wound on my forearm.

“Oh. That explains why it felt so sore. I guess I scraped against a wall or something? It’s fine, though, I’ll patch it up when I get home.”

“No way. You helped us, we help you. Let the professional do his magic.”

Leo took out some supplies from his pouch. I sat on the edge and let him work on my arm while the rest - mostly Donnie - info dumped their stories to me. At first it was a way to distract me from the initial sting of my cuts being cleaned but it wasn’t long until they got carried away with their storytelling. They told me about their mutation at the lab, how they found out, their two dads and other human friends. The oozequitoes, as they called them, were what made them and all the other mutants. It’s crazy to think these guys were made as literal military weapons considering they’re now wacky vigilantes.

“Voilà! Look and be amazed!”

“Woah! You weren’t kidding when you said professional.” I admired Leo’s bandaging on my arm. It was clean and neat, tight enough to be secure but not turning my fingers blue or anything. Much better job than I would’ve done.

The full moon was beautiful tonight. Unfortunately, it reminded me where I should be at this time.

“Well, I’m really enjoying talking to guys but I should probably go home. I don’t even wanna know how late it is”

“What? But can’t you stay a little longer?” Mikey, who was practically vibrating this whole time, suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. He looked so dejected it made my heart hurt. Raph attempted to comfort him.

“They probably have school Mike. Maybe we can hang out another time, if you’re up for it?”

“REALLY- I mean, yes, yeah. That sounds lovely!” Stay civil, Salena.

“Hey before you go, you should really try one of these.” Leo opened the poison bag and took out a pizza puff? “They are absolutely delicious.”

Poison or not, pizza puff’s a pizza puff.

“NO!“ Unfortunately, Raph slapped the treat out of my hand before I could plop it in my mouth.

We bid our farewells and Mikey handed me a paper with their numbers on it paired with some cute doodles of them. After telling him where to go, Leo opened a portal to my room. I know you’re not supposed to tell strangers your address and it did feel a little weird but a portal was the fastest way home. No way I’m hoofing it this late in the night. I love New York but not that much.

Sitting on my bed now, I observed the blue turtle as he was getting ready to go back. The red stripes around his eyes made me realize he was a red-eared slider, I read about them back when I was six or seven I think.

“Hey Leo?”

“Yeah?”

I smiled. “It was nice running into you again.”

He gave his signature smirk “Funny how life works, ay?”

He waved and fell back into his portal. I closed my eyes for a bit, then grabbed my sketchbook.

Placing Mikey’s doodles on a blank page, I wrote down their respective eye colors.

Green, brown, yellow, blue.

Next Chapter | Salena Moni

#rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #unpause rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the turtles #rise leo #rottmnt leo #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #leo hamato #rise donnie #rise michelangelo #rise mikey #rise raph #rottmnt raph #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt fanfiction #oc x canon #rottmnt x oc #teenage mutant ninja turtles #unpause rottmnt #rottmnt season 3 #rottmnt s3 #rottmnt moths fly in packs

[maybeimamuppet]

picking teams - chapter 13: janis

hello everyone happy wednesday!!

welcome to part two of shsjsjdbeksja of Torturing Caddy Hours because i’m fantastic at fic planning lol. sorry. back to actual plot stuff next time (and hopefully it won’t be so long between chapters this time :// )

tw for 

depressive episodes 

and as always if i’ve missed something please let me know so i can add it :)

enjoy!

—————-

Janis is worried.

She's probably right to be. Cady did cheer up a little bit after their dinner date last week, but Janis still knows she's not going to be back to her usual sunny self so quickly after what she's going through. 

Now, though, Cady hasn't answered her texts since Friday. She didn't come to school on Monday. Janis asked Damian, and he hasn't heard from her either. 

On Monday after school, she decides the time has come to check in on Cady in person. 

Janis braces a bit as she knocks on the Herons' door. Cady's mom pulls it open almost immediately.

"Hi, Mrs. Heron, is Cad- whoa."

"Thank god," Mrs. Heron interrupts, taking Janis' hand and dragging her into the house. "Cady hasn't left her room all weekend; she won't speak to us, she hasn't eaten anything- I just... I'm out of my mind worrying about her, but she won't tell us what's wrong. She'll talk to you. Please, Janis?"

"I- yeah, I'll go... go see what I can do," Janis says, now much more worried than she was a minute ago. 

Cady can be a bit neurotic at the best of times. At least Janis knows where she gets it from now. 

"Thank you, sweetheart," Mrs. Heron says. Janis just nods as she kicks off her boots and heads up to Cady's room. 

There's no answer when Janis knocks, and the lights are off. Janis figures she must be napping and heads in anyway. Her girlfriend won't mind. Hopefully. 

It's overcast today, but there's enough light streaming in through the open curtains for Janis to see by. She looks around and sees Cady curled up beneath her blankets in bed. 

Janis gently closes the door behind her and walks over to her, crouching down at her bedside and resting her chin on the mattress. Cady's facing away from her, so she reaches out and scratches gently at Cady's upper back. "Peanut?" 

"...Hi." 

"Hi," Janis echoes. "What's going on?" Cady shrugs. "You wanna talk about it?" Cady shakes her head. "Mmkay." 

Janis pulls the covers away and gently crawls into the bed, pressing against Cady's back and holding her close to her chest. Cady takes the hand she wraps around her tummy and loosely holds Janis' fingers. "What are you doing here?" 

"I'm worried about you," Janis murmurs back. "We haven't talked all weekend and you didn't come to school. Your mom let me up." 

"She made you come up," Cady retaliates, her voice gruff and scratchy.

"I would've anyway," Janis says, gently nosing against Cady's neck, right at the warmest part, just above where it meets Cady's shoulder. 

"Yeah, you would've," Cady huffs. Janis is briefly taken aback. 

"Hey. Talk to me," she says gently. "Why are you mad at me, what did I do?" 

Janis is more taken aback when Cady bursts into tears. Cady rolls over and presses herself to Janis' chest, sobbing into her shirt. "Nothing, I-I'm sorry. I did- I didn't mean it, I'm sorry." 

"I know you didn't, Peanut, it's okay," Janis hushes. "Come here." 

Janis sits upright and props herself against Cady's headboard, pulling her girlfriend into her lap. Cady straddles her at her waist and cuddles in, leaving her arms at her sides but resting her head against Janis' shoulder. Janis' arms wrap around Cady's waist as she traces gentle shapes into Cady's lower back with her thumb. She squishes her cheek against the top of Cady's head and holds her close. 

"What happened?" she whispers. Cady just shakes her head with a burst of sobs. "Okay, okay, hey. Breathe, princess, you're gonna be fine." 

"No," Cady whimpers. 

"Yes," Janis says, just shy of teasing. She shifts back to concerned girlfriend mode to ask, "Do you even know what's wrong?" Cady doesn't move for a long time, doesn't make a sound other than sobbing and sniffling into Janis' neck. But, eventually, she nods. "Okay. That's a start. But you won't tell me?" Cady shakes her head vehemently. "That's fine. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to." 

"You'll be-be mad," Cady cries softly. 

"Peanut, your mom said you haven't eaten anything or left your room in three days, and you don't look like you've slept at all in that time either. I don't have room to be anything but worried," Janis says, gently rocking Cady back and forth. Cady rocks herself sometimes when she's upset, so Janis figures it might help. 

"Promise?"

"I promise," Janis whispers. Cady is quiet again, clinging to Janis a little tighter and adamantly refusing to remove her face from its place tightly tucked against Janis' neck. 

"I wanna go home," Cady whimpers after what feels like a year. 

"To Kenya?" Janis asks just to confirm. Cady nods with a few more sobs. "Oh, Peanut. Why would you think I'd be mad about that?" 

"Be-because I-I don't wanna... make you-make you think I wanna lea-leave you," Cady tries to explain. "But I miss home." 

"I get it," Janis murmurs. "It's a big shift for you."

"I just- I'm-I'm cold," Cady sobs. "I've never been cold. And-and I'm sore all the time from all-all the cheer practices and the cold m-makes it worse. And everything here is-is so quiet. I don't like it. And-and my animals. I miss-miss them. So much, Jay. And-and-and nothing makes any-any sense anymore! Ev-everything here is so-so complicated, I-I feel like such an idiot all the time. It's exhausting. Things in-in Kenya used to be so-so easy. And now... now nothing is." 

"Peanut," Janis says sadly. "Why didn't you tell anybody? No wonder you've been so down."

"Who could I tell?" Cady sniffs. "You-you... you know. And my-my parents wouldn't get-get it. Regina doesn't care." 

"I know I understand," Janis says. "That's all I know. And I know it's normal to be homesick, especially for somewhere you lived for thirteen years. Your whole childhood was in Kenya, of course you miss it. America's charm is starting to wear off, y'know?" 

Cady nods and gives a few more quiet sobs. Janis squeezes her the slightest bit closer. 

"Kenya's your home. You'll get to go back someday," Janis says. 

"You think so?"

"I know so. When the time is right," Janis says. "But until then... you just... gotta figure out how to make yourself at home here. Do things that make you happy. Things that make you feel safe. Homey stuff." 

"I dunno any homey stuff," Cady sniffles. Janis can feel her pouting against her neck. 

"I do," Janis says quietly. "Can I drag you out of bed long enough to give 'em a shot?" 

Cady finally pulls away from Janis' neck, sniffling and wiping her eyes. She leans in and kisses the tip of Janis' nose. "I think you might be the only person who can." 

"Tits," Janis grins. 

"Whoa, tiger. We've only been together for two weeks," Cady teases. "Tits are a three week minimum."

"You wound me," Janis smirks. She crawls out of bed and hauls her tiny girlfriend into her arms, carrying her to Cady's bathroom and popping her on her feet. "This body does not walk back through that door until it is clean." 

"Yes ma'am," Cady pouts. "Where are you going?"

"You want me to stay while you shower?"

"No," Cady huffs. "Creeper." 

"I think you mean... girlfriend," Janis grins. "I'm gonna go get some stuff. You get clean and change your sheets. And talk to your mom, I think she might pace a hole right through to the basement." 

"I will," Cady nods. Janis nods back and turns to leave. "Jay?"

"Hm?"

"Kiss?" Cady asks softly, reaching out for her. Janis rolls her eyes lovingly and gently pulls her in for a kiss. Cady smiles up at her when they pull apart. "Thank you."

"You're quite welcome," Janis chuckles. "I'll be back."

"Okay," Cady says, turning the water on as Janis closes the door behind her. 

Janis heads downstairs. Cady's mom practically leaps on her before she even hits the bottom step. "Uh... she's just feeling a bit homesick, I think. Is it okay if I go get a few things and come back?" 

"Oh, yes, of course. Thank you so much, sweetheart," Mrs. Heron responds. Janis squeaks as she pulls her into a tight hug. It's a bit aggressive, but it's... nice. She hasn't been hugged by any mom except Damian's in almost three years. 

Janis gently pats her back when she thinks she feels a few of her ribs crack. She tries to keep her gasp for breath quiet as Mrs. Heron lets her go. 

She says her goodbyes again and heads out to her car. She texts her dad to let him know she'll be a bit later than she was expecting and might not be home until late. She gets a be safe and a heart emoji in response and puts her car into gear. 

—-

She only meant to go into the store to pick up some ingredients to make cookies. Cady needs to eat, and cookies are better than nothing. 

But she walks past the clothing section on the way back to the food. They have Christmas pajamas for sale. Janis normally loathes all the glittery happy holly-jolly stuff that comes with Christmastime. 

But this year she has a girlfriend. A girlfriend who absolutely loves all the glittery happy holly-jolly stuff. 

Caddy's depressed, she says to herself as she puts two sets into her basket, like she's trying to justify this to herself. One set of large size, and one extra small. Janis snorts looking at them. Tiny girlfriend. 

She also spies some fuzzy reindeer socks with little pompoms to be the antlers. She gets a couple pairs of those, too. Cady deserves it. 

—-

Janis knocks on the door again when she makes it back to Cady's house. Cady answers this time, clearly fresh out of the shower. She smiles when she sees Janis and pulls her into the house and into a tight cuddle. "Hi."

"Hey you," Janis murmurs, stroking her fingertips over her back. "How you feeling?" 

"A little better," Cady shrugs. "What did you get?" 

"Treasures. Did you talk to your mom?" 

"Yeah, she's calmed down a little," Cady chuckles. "She's still worried, but she's stopped pacing."

"Good. Go ask her if we can make cookies," Janis says. Cady brightens and looks up at her, resting her chin on Janis' chest. 

"Cookies?" 

"First lesson in homey stuff around this time of year is making Christmas cookies and watching ridiculous holiday movies," Janis nods. 

"Ooh," Cady says, but she makes absolutely no effort to leave Janis. Janis isn't complaining. Cady's warm, and she smells absolutely delightful after her shower. She shifts her head down to peer into Janis' bag of goodies. "What else did you get?" 

Janis feels herself blush. She mumbles, "Jammies."

Cady looks up at her again. "What?"

"Matching... Christmas jammies." 

Cady smiles and winds her arms around Janis' neck. "You bought us matching Christmas jammies?" Janis nods. "You?" Janis nods again. Cady presses up on her tiptoes for a kiss. "You're such a dork." 

"Stop it," Janis pouts. 

"No. You're a dork. But a cute dork," Cady hums happily. Janis gets one more kiss before Cady drops back down and heads off to find one of her parents. "Mom? Can we make cookies?" 

"Oh, sure. Just clean up when you're done and save some for your father and I," Mrs. Heron says. 

"We will," Cady says. She smiles and reaches a hand for Janis to lead her to the kitchen. Janis pauses a second before she takes it. Cady's parents, to her knowledge, still don't know about them. Hopefully her mother thinks making Christmas cookies in matching pajamas while holding hands is a perfectly platonic thing. 

Cady perches on the granite countertop and watches as Janis pulls out all the things they'll need. She figured Cady's family would have basic things like butter and sugar and flour, but she bought the more... out there ingredients that go into making snickerdoodles. 

Her dad sent her a photo of their family recipe and told her not to let anyone else see. It's a closely guarded secret even though it's just something her grandmother got out of a magazine ages ago. Janis promises she'll just let Cady help and not show her any of the instructions. 

Cady's family doesn't have a stand mixer, so creaming the butter and sugar together proves to be an interesting challenge. They take turns absolutely going at it with a wooden spoon. Cady laughs near hysterically when it's Janis' turn and she does it so intensely her hair fluffs out and she almost knocks the bowl onto the floor.  

"Are you hungry?" Cady asks as Janis adds in the flour and other dry ingredients. 

"Uh... no, I'm good," Janis responds. 

She's about to mention the fact that they're making cookies before she remembers Cady apparently hasn't eaten in almost four days. Caddy needs calories. Cady nods and hops down from her perch to root through the pantry. She comes back with a quite delicious looking snack bar. 

Janis does take the bite she offers and hums in surprise at the taste. "Mm. What is that?"

"It's a Kälteen bar. They're these Swedish things. My mom used to give them to the kids in Kenya to help them... gain... weight." 

Janis and Cady lock eyes and get matching conniving smiles on their faces. Cady climbs down again and adds the rest of the box of bars to her backpack. 

"How fast do they work?" Janis asks.

"Pretty fast. And I can make them work faster," Cady smirks. 

"Oh, can you?" Janis chuckles. Cady nods proudly and sneaks a taste of their cookie dough with her finger. Janis gently whacks her hand.

"Ow! Hey," Cady whines. 

"You're gonna get salmonella," Janis chides lovingly. 

"There's only two eggs in that whole bowl!" Cady protests. She juts out her lower lip and blinks her teal eyes pitifully at Janis. "Pleeeeeease?" 

"One more taste," Janis sighs. Cady wiggles happily and takes another bite of the dough before hopping down to find a bowl. Janis mixes up the sugar and cinnamon coating to roll the cookies in. 

She scoops the cookie dough into the right size amounts. Cady rolls them into balls and rolls them in the cinnamon sugar before carefully plopping them onto a tray. "This is fun," she says happily. 

"Good," Janis responds. 

Cady watches contently as their cookies bake, plopped on the ground like a little kid watching cartoons. She looks up and around for Janis after a while and motions for her to sit beside her. 

Janis groans a little as she sits next to her. She had conditioning with the football team on Saturday and her coach really put them through the wringer. Cady takes her hand once she sits next to her and leans into her shoulder. 

"Thanks for coming. Again," she murmurs, looking down at her lap and fidgeting with her free hand. Janis gently bumps their shoulders together and tips her cheek to rest against the top of Cady's head. 

"Anytime," she responds. "Kinda my job now." 

"It isn't, though," Cady whines. "You shouldn't have to do this." 

"Caddy, you're... you're depressed," Janis responds, shifting a bit so she's facing her. 

Cady begrudgingly does the same. Janis reaches out a hand for her to take. Cady does, winding her gold-tipped fingers through Janis'. Her hands are always freezing. 

"You'd do the same for me," Janis says softly, kissing Cady's knuckles. "Right?" Cady looks up at her and nods eagerly. "It's not your fault things are more heavy on you right now. Someday the scales'll tip and you'll get to repay the favor, okay? But... in the meantime, I really don't mind helping you out of a few funks if I can." 

Cady mulls this over and nods, stroking circles around the joint of Janis' thumb. She doesn't say anything, but that's usually a better sign that she's actually taken the words to heart. Janis gently squeezes her hand, and Cady squeezes back. 

Cady turns back to face the oven. Janis does the same and smiles as Cady leans in to rest her head on her lap. Janis has to reach a bit further than is comfortable to keep their hands intertwined, but she doesn't complain. Cady hums contently as Janis starts gently scratching the side of her head with her dull fingernails, brushing her hair towards the back in a slow, repetitive motion. 

Cady about jumps out of her skin when the oven beeps to let them know the cookies are done baking. Janis wouldn't be surprised if she fell asleep in just those few minutes. For such a high-energy cheerleader, she really can fall asleep almost anywhere. 

Janis gently shuffles her half-awake girlfriend to the side and takes the cookies out of the oven. Cady perks up when she smells the delicious sweet cinnamonyness. Janis has to actively pry her away from sticking her face directly into the still very hot tray. "Go put on your pajamas, Peanut. Give 'em a sec to cool."

"Mmh," Cady whines, leaning against Janis' chest for some cuddles to help her through her frustration. Janis laughs and gives her a squeeze before sending her off to change into the new jammies. Cady acts like she's upset, but Janis sees her do a dorky little happy dance as she roots through the shopping bag for her pajamas and heads to change in the bathroom. 

Janis smiles and pries the cookies off the tray to cool. 

Cady comes prancing back in the plaid pajamas with a precious smile on her face and reaches for a kiss as soon as she makes it to Janis. 

"Comfy?" Janis asks with a smile, holding Cady's hips. Cady nods and kisses her again. 

"Now you get to change!" 

Janis' face falls. "I get to?" 

Cady nods eagerly. "You bought them. Why did you buy matching jammies if you didn't want to match?" 

"Touché," Janis chuckles. "You win this round." 

"I'll win every round," Cady hums mischievously. She gently shoves Janis in the vague direction of the restroom. Janis squeaks and whirls around as she gently pats her bum to get her going. 

"Hey!" 

Cady just waggles her eyebrows and motions for her to turn around. Janis tries to hide how much she's blushing as she grabs the bag and goes to change. 

At least the pajamas are comfortable. And not too holly-jolly. She sighs as she tugs on the reindeer socks and heads back out to Cady. She holds her arms out to her sides and does a begrudging spin so her girlfriend can see. 

Cady laughs so hard she has to bend over a little bit. Janis sighs and smiles back. "You look great."

"Thanks," Janis says, sarcastically striking a pose. 

"Can I have cookies now?" Cady pleads, jutting out her lower lip and wrapping her arms around Janis' waist. Janis kisses her nose. 

"I suppose," she hums with a smile. Cady squeals and immediately lets go of Janis in favor of snatching some cookies to munch on. Janis laughs and takes one from her hand for herself. 

"Hey," Cady says around a mouthful of cookie. She's cute enough that it's almost endearing instead of gross. 

"Chew your food. Heathen," Janis snorts. Cady humphs and closes her mouth to finish chewing. "Good?" 

Cady nods happily. She grabs another handful and leaves it on a plate for her parents to pilfer before she grabs the rest of the tray and carries it to the living room for herself and Janis. 

"What are we gonna watch?" she asks, settling on the couch and lifting one of her knees to rest her head on. Janis shrugs as she plops down next to her. 

"I dunno. What are you in the mood for?" she asks. 

"I've never seen a holiday movie in my life," Cady responds flatly. Janis snorts and takes the remote to scroll through everything. 

She pauses when she comes to one of the Alvin and the Chipmunks Christmas movies. Cady notices her hesitation. 

"This one?" 

"No," Janis says immediately. Still too late, as Cady takes the remote back and presses play to see what it's all about. She coos as soon as she sees the chipmunks in all their animated glory. 

"They're so cute! Oh, can't we watch this one? Pleeeeeease?" 

Janis sighs. They've been dating for two weeks and Cady already has her entirely wrapped around her little finger. "Fine." 

Cady wiggles happily and settles in. Janis sags into the couch and braces for a few hours of borderline torture. 

Cady watches happily, smiling every time the chipmunks are on screen. Especially Theodore, who rapidly becomes her favorite. 

Eventually they become one with the couch. Janis lies down with her head resting on the arm of it, and Cady lies down directly on top of her. She looks up at her girlfriend with a smile before cuddling in closer and looking back to watch the movie. 

————-

Janis looks away from the chipmunks when she notices Cady hasn't moved for a while. Cady gives nice cuddles, but she's fidgety at the best of times. 

Janis grins when she looks and sees Cady asleep on top of her. Her hand is loosely curled on Janis' sternum, her head resting on her shoulder as she's tucked securely against her side. One of her legs rests over Janis' hips, and Janis can just barely feel the warm puffs of breath against her neck whenever Cady exhales. 

Janis pauses the movie, knowing Cady will be upset if she misses too much of it, and tries not to cry. 

Sure, it's only been two weeks. But Janis has had a girlfriend for two weeks. Her girlfriend is currently asleep, on top of her, in matching Christmas jammies. She trusts Janis enough to fall asleep with her. Trusts Janis to keep her safe. To be safe. 

Janis never thought this would happen. But feeling the weight of Cady on top of her seems to be chipping away at the weight that's been on her since eighth grade. She gently kisses Cady's forehead, looking out the window behind them. 

"It's snowing," she whispers, gently tracing around Cady's ear as she watches the thick fluffy snowflakes flutter to the ground. It's not sticking to anything yet, but, "You'd love it."

Cady doesn't respond beyond a content puff of breath and scrunched up nose. Janis gently adjusts her and hopes Cady stays in dreamland for a while longer. She needs the rest, and Janis is more than happy to be her pillow. 

She gently twirls the curly end of Cady's braid around her fingers, lost in thought as Cady snoozes. Janis knows it's just the honeymoon phase talking, but she's never felt this way before. And Cady... feels the same way. 

She thinks back to what Cady said at the game, the night they first kissed. Closes her eyes and goes through all of her senses one by one. Making a memory. 

Cady is warm and solid against her side. Janis can feel her everywhere, even where Cady isn't touching her. She feels her everywhere. The pajamas are soft, made of a cozy cotton so the heat isn't suffocating. Her arm is falling asleep where Cady's head is resting on it, and Janis has never cared about anything less. Cady's hair is still the slightest bit damp when Janis presses her lips to it. 

Cady smells like cinnamon, from the cookies, and like strawberries from her shampoo, and that special little smell, faint enough to almost be an afterthought, that's just Cady. Purely Cady. 

Janis is almost too tired to open her eyes now, but she has to solidify this in her mind. The window starting to frost as the sun begins it's slow descent for the day outside. The snow continuing to flurry and melt as soon as it makes contact with the earth. The TV in the other direction, now dimmed since they haven't interacted with the movie in too long, still waiting on the frozen frame of Alvin. 

And then Cady. Janis looks up from the little reindeer sock that's a solid foot higher than hers. Short. Up the plaid-clad leg, to a steadily rising and falling tummy as Cady breathes. All the way up to that beautiful sleeping face, or as much of it as Janis can see from this angle. 

She wonders if it's creepy to be doing this much staring after only two weeks together. Meh. 

Now content that the memory is permanent, Janis contently closes her eyes and relishes in the moment. 

————-

She wakes up a while later to Cady staring at her. It's oddly familiar, in a strangely comforting way. "Hi."

"You're pretty," Cady says immediately. Janis chuckles. 

"Thanks?" she says. "You're pretty too." 

Cady gently runs her finger down the bridge of Janis' nose. "Will you sleep over?" 

"It's a school night."

Cady is entirely unphased. "Will you sleep over please?"

Janis sighs. "Let me ask my dad." 

Cady squeals and cuddles into her chest again. Janis strokes a hand through her hair with an affectionate smile. 

How did I get so lucky?

—————

thanks for reading!! i hope you enjoyed and that you have a wonderful day :DD

lots of love,

ezzy

#cadnis #space safari #paint by numbers #cady heron x janis sarkisian #cady x janis #mean girls #mean girls broadway #mean girls the musical #mean girls on broadway #mean girls musical #picking teams

[beginning-to-be-happy]

I think one of the keys to being happy as a single person (who plans to stay that way forever) is to treat yourself like you would a romantic partner that you want to take care of.

Plan fun things, make dates and stick to them, pamper yourself. And I don't mean pampering like spend 3 hours in the bathroom getting pretty and shaving everything (unless you honestly enjoy doing that.) I mean like cleaning the house before a day off so you can enjoy it, putting on nice music, eating something you enjoy.

If you make a date with yourself, it may seem awkward at first, but don't cancel your plans because there's no other partner to let down. Don't let yourself down. Don't fall into the trap that a couples-based society sets for you that says you are somehow less of a person because you're single. Don't let people change your plans unless it's something you'd change your plans for even if it would disappoint your husband.

Don't decide that there's no point in making an actual meal because it's just you. Don't decide to just come home Friday evening and spend your whole weekend on the couch flipping back and forth through two apps on your phone. Come Monday morning, you'll feel like you squandered your free time when you could have gone on an adventure, learned something new, or did something that you're proud of.

If you're planning to stick around for the long haul and not let depression tell you there's nothing to live for, you may as well enjoy it while you're here. You have no less reason to live than people who are coupled, and honestly you might be happier than a lot of them.

Just think of all the drama and stress you don't have to deal with anymore. Whatever you dream up, you can do it. If you want to spend Saturday taking 5 baths, you can. If you want to put on the music you listened to as a teenager and dance around the house in your undies baking cookies, you can.

If you want to go for a walk at 11 p.m. you can. If you can't sleep and want to jump in the car in the middle of the night, drive out to the country and look at the stars, you can. If you want to get so engrossed in a book that you don't even notice hours going by, you can.

Your world and your life are up to you. It's both scary and exhilarating.

#aromantic #happily single

[cardinaldante]

Greetings once again siblings! This is Cardinal Dante. Papa Terzo came to see me today. Mist let him in, and I was terrified that Papa Terzo would be angry, but he was happy to see her. He sat with me in the closet and told me he hadn't seen me at any mealtimes yesterday. I didn't want to tell him at first, but I felt horrible that I was shirking on my duties and feeling guilty that I told him everything. I told him about what Saltarian had said and done, and I told him that I was flirting with a priest, and that Mist had been living with me since Friday or Saturday, and that I had been lying to them when I told them I didn't know of any other ghouls.

Papa Terzo listened like we were in confession, and when I finished, he asked about Jacob first, which was suprising. He asked if Jacob was nice, and I told him that Jacob was very sweet, although I had been trying to tell him I liked him for months now(since last year) and yet he didn't know I was hitting on him. Papa Terzo laughed and gave me a few tips on asking Jacob out, which made me feel a little better.

He then asked about Saltarian, but I told him I had no clue in what Saltarian was talking about, but I did know that I didnt want to be kicked out of the church. He quickly reassured me that wouldn't happen and if Papa Copia didn't, he would vouch for me, which made me feel even better about everything going on. I'd been struggling since Monday- I didn't know what I was going to do. To hear that Papa Terzo himself would help me made me feel much better about everything.

He told me I could keep Mist as my new personal ghoul to keep me out of trouble with Saltarian, and to stay away from him, since he was giving me so much trouble. She apparently had taken down Omega once. Mist looked way too proud when Papa Terzo said that. Papa Terzo asked if I could get back to my duties for now, and to pace myself. Next time something like this happened with any sibling, I was to tell him immediately, or let Mist deal with it. I agreed, and he smiled at me before ruffling up my hair, messing up my locs from the ponytail I'd left them in since my spiral on tuesday.

I mentioned this account, and Papa Terzo said I could continue running it, as apparently, we'd had three new siblings come to the church because of my post! Because of this account!! Papa Terzo told me I was doing a great job, got up, and paused at my doorway. He asked if I'd seen Papa Primo around- as he'd apparently been missing since Midnight Mass Sunday. I told him I hadn't seen him since I'd been in my room, and he just nodded and left. Phantom and Aurora entered right after he left and while they were a bit wary of mist, both were happy to see my again. Phantom asked if he was the reason I'd self-isolated, and I had to explain depression to the ghouls, which was odd, but both seemed to understand. They also warmed up to Mist quickly after I told them Mist was my guard now, and Mist was very happy to meet the new Ghouls to the ghost band.

Somehow, all this talking and everything turned into a sleepover in my room, so I quickly bolted to my office, spent an hour doing the small bits of work that'd piled up(which admittedly, wasn't alot) and headed back to watch a movie with all three ghouls. When I got there, Mist apparently had beaten both Phantom and Aurora in a rock paper scissors game to watch the little mermaid, and I managed to beat her so we could watch the new little mermaid, with the black mermaid. Mist hadn't seen it yet, so it was going to be a very good experience.

The movie is starting siblings, and I am very excited to be seeing it. Thank you for waiting patiently as I figured out my feelings, and for any one who wants to join the church, join us! The church always has room for more!!

#ghost band #roleplay #the band ghost #ghost bc #ask blog