#even though this is not that different from writing a normal scene

[coffe-and-tea-time]

KEEP PRETENDING TO SLEEP! KEEP PRETENDING TO SLEEP!!!

HEHEHEHEHEHE I WAS WAITING TO COOK THIS

Coffee insanely speaking! Thanks Dear, you gimme the perfect excuse to write a second part just in time although I expected the option of talking to him to come first. Not that I'm complaining lol

Post where this suggestion came from

↪︎ ☾ I love to see you ....................................... .......................................☆ I love to hear you↩︎

TW: yandere behavior, delusions, murder of self-preservation, stalking, obssesion, somewhat willing reader, kinda denying of bad decisions

Of course, the best option is to stay still, not because you are enjoying this no no, of course not...

Despite his soft voice that sounds rather familiar, you can't really recall who or where. So the safest option is just giving in at the moment, you didn't know how he could react so the safer the better, isn't it?

A smile starts creeping on your face against your will, seems like you are a rather bad actor when it's required, huh? 

“Oh, I'm really glad, you seem like you're finally having a good dream… will it be too greedy if I want to be inside that little dream of yours? Well, if you find that greedy, you won't be able to handle me later”

Hearing a close mouthed giggle following the whisper makes your heart flutter softly, like this is some kind of really romantic scene in his mind. You were able to hear the faint sound of footsteps, he seems like he's doing a little room tour, making it a little hard to hear him.

“Oh Dear, you were researching that thing again?”

It seems like he found his way into your phone, what was he referring to?

“Why do you keep reading so much about romance? Are these words good enough to keep your focus?... Maybe I have to start practicing oral expression? It's been a while since I felt like that, last time was when you downloaded that stupid dating sim… This is truly irritating, the names they use, the way they ‘communicate’ to you; do no justice, I can express myself way better, my love, and how my eyes change when I see you walking by… just... please, I need only one chance, and I promise you won't have a room left for doubts”

Even though he made the effort to lower his voice in order to 'not wake you up', it's clear how his tone is changing with every word depending on the topic; First, a low hint of infatuation, then, what sounds closer to a plead and, finally,...was that...hopelessness?

Honestly, in a normal situation, you would be annoyed by someone searching through your phone but only an idiot would think this man would judge you even if you had pictures of dead people there, more like he's genuinely looking for more of you, despite the fact that it's really not the ‘proper’ way, you can't say it didn't work.

“My beloved Cherry, what can i do for you to talk to me? Those characters seem to steal your attention quickly… I would be lying if I sad I'm not a little hopeful because of them though, you seem to have quite the specific taste, Cherry, and I believe I fit perfectly on them... if only I could find the right moment to get into your routine, to be part of your life…”

Weird that he worries about getting to talk to you with an ideal scene but not worrying about stalking you, but maybe it's kind of understable? Since well, everyone likes to check on their crush on social media even if they take a while to actually talk, even if this guy took it a little too far, he sounds... harmless like his wish is just to win your affection…

wait a second…

Are you truly relaxed in this kind of situation? What is going on with you? Why? Why… well, can't say you didn't ask for this, even as a joke, you know this time is different because it's real, but… why does reality feel like a fantasy right now? Is it because of him?

“Huh, I come here as a routine by now, I still get the same queries, I’m dying to find the answers soon..”

Sensing that lightly sweet fragrance once more makes you know he’s approaching your ‘sleeping’ form once again, making it easy to hear him despite his constant whispering.

“Would you let me cuddle you? Would you let me kiss you? Would you mind if I were clingy? Would you mind if I get jealous? Would you mind if it seems like I already know more about you than I should? I want to hold you my dear, I can’t wait for the day I can just snuggle with you every time we want… I really can’t wait anymore, I need to be closer to you… I guess I have no option other than to talk to you out of the blue, I dislike to be so imprudent, but I promise I will make up for it once you accept me in your life, Love”

You feel a gentle hand slightly caress your cheek as a little peck is placed on your forehead, making you almost smile like a fool if it weren’t for the fact that pretending to sleep is your priority in this sweet moment, unexpected but called for moment.

“Sweet dreams Cherry, I have to prepare what I should say tomorrow, I will put all of my efforts to be my best self to make a good first impression, I hope I snatch enough of your interest to be on your mind even for a moment”

Oh, he is definitely gonna be stuck in your mind for a while, as you try your best to focus on the sounds, you catch his steps as he seems to walk away… but you keep up with your act just in case.

So, tomorrow, huh? Seems like once again you have important decisions in your hand, should you indulge in your fantasy and let him get near you? It also sounds fun to go to him first… But, maybe you should try to avoid him? It’s the safer choice, but do you really want that? He seems safe enough not to raise any of your flags, he seemed so caring for you…

sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣

images from pinterest

#pineapple our oc #Coffee speaking #yandere #random #yandere male #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere oc #oc #male yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #obsessive love #yandere classmate #otome #yandere x willing reader #stalker #tw stalking #soft yandere #yandere writing #drabble #silly #silly writing #delulu #delusional #anon ask #oc x reader #yandere oc x reader

[princesssarisa]

I decided to make this poll because I've been listening to the excellent Little Women videos from @littlewomenpodcast, whose opinions and arguments I nearly always find to be spot-on. (And who so generously quotes some of my analysis now and then.) But I'll admit I was taken aback by one remark she and others have occasionally made about Jo and Amy. Namely that as a teenager, Jo bullies Amy, and that Amy burning Jo's manuscript is just the moment when she finally snaps after having been picked on by her sister all her life.

After hearing this, I had to go back and reread all of Jo and Amy's interactions in Part I, because I had never thought of their conflict that way, and I'm still not sure if I do.

I always saw their sibling rivalry as mutual, with both at fault. They're both strong-willed, attention-seeking, quick-tempered girls, they arguably both have different forms of internalized misogyny (Jo by disdaining femininity, Amy by disdaining tomboyishness), and they get on each other's nerves. Jo mocks Amy's childish attempts to be ladylike (and even an only child like myself knows that between siblings, teasing is normal and doesn't equal bullying), while Amy annoys Jo by correcting her manners, and neither is generally better or worse than the other.

Now of course this is their relationship in general: I'm not talking about "Jo Meets Apollyon." In that specific case, Jo does provoke Amy by refusing to take her to the play just because she, Jo, doesn't want to babysit, leaving Amy in tears. And while Amy burning her manuscript is an inexcusable, out-of-proportion response, it's even more wrong of Jo to physically attack Amy when she learns what she did, and almost horrific that she doesn't warn her about the thin ice the next day. But even then, Alcott doesn't describe Jo as always insulting and excluding Amy, and she makes it clear that Amy has played other pranks on Jo before the manuscript-burning. She writes that they've always been prone to "lively skirmishes" because of their mutual tempers – she doesn't blame Jo alone.

Still, maybe it can't be mutual, because Jo is a teenager while Amy is a child. The fact that I have no siblings puts me at a disadvantage, because not only do I not personally know the difference between normal sibling rivalry and bullying, I don't know how much of a difference certain age gaps create. Maybe the fact that Jo is three years older than Amy makes her more of a bully than if they were only a year apart in age. (Still, three years isn't that big of a gap. I don't remember feeling much more mature at fifteen than I was at twelve, just more hormonal.) Also, Alcott does write that Jo had less self-control than Amy despite being older, and in their typical scenes of light bickering, when Jo laughs at Amy's malapropisms and Amy corrects Jo's manners, Jo does always laugh at Amy first, and then Amy scolds her in response. There's also the moment in "Experiments" when Jo hears Beth crying and thinks to herself that if Amy was the one who upset her (she wasn't – Beth's bird died), she'll shake her. We could argue that this just shows how protective Jo is of Beth, but at the same time, she's thinking about physically attacking her little sister again.

In the end, I'm tempted to think this issue is open to interpretation. We can either view the two sisters as having a mutual rivalry and mutually provoking each other (apart from isolated incidents when either one or the other is more to blame), or view Jo as more of a bully and Amy as more of the victim.

I'd like to see what other people think, though.

#little women #poll #jo march #amy march #sibling rivalry #bullying

[melodic-haze]

Thinking about it now, yk who I'm most interested to see with reader who's Akivili's reincarnation but doesn't realise? Black Swan.

I can't help but keep thinking like. Imagine instead of the scene with Acheron, it's you who she wants to dance with. And why would you ever want to turn her down yk? She's beauty, she's grace, nobody would ever refuse her in your place.

It's clumsy at first, you never really knew that you'd be dancing in such a formal setting so you're kinda lost in this kind of situation. But don't worry, cuz Black Swan is here to guide you through every step until it all feels like a smooth wordless exchange between the two of you!!

She does find it slightly odd though, how everyone else seems to be looking at the two of you-- no, looking at you with curiosity and a want to be closer to you, with some of them even shuffling just a tad bit to dance nearby. It could be because you were one of the mysterious explorers of the cosmos......but for some reason she knew within her that that's not right

So she's undoubtedly curious, and you can see that glint in her eye as she pulls you in while you dance, and you hear her murmur "let me see you" before you feel a minor wave of something off briefly destabilising you before things go normal again. Well, not necessarily normal, considering how you feel more connected to your dance partner than ever and you feel this sense of foreboding unease from so far away......but beyond how you had to keep your guard up, it wasn't hurting you.

Things were. NOT the same in Black Swan's case. She sees your life before you got to Penacony, before your time as a Nameless, before you even discovered a passion for exploting the great beyond!! But she sees that there is another layer—one so old and so fractured and so broken and so unbelievably incomprehensible.

Like an Aeon.

The Memokeeper, much too curious for her own good to back down now, and she can't even see them. These memories from beyond your supposed time? All fractured, irreparable, corrupted all through hell and back. Some of the ones she CAN comprehend is time spent by.. you and people that you've most definitely never known, all at so many different different times and seemingly eras and they all melt into amalgamations of things she is sure you've NEVER experienced so what's going on????

She severes the connection with a yelp—snaps out of it more like—as you dip her on complete accident because you placed your foot wrong. You're so stupidly proud of the save before you look at Black Swan and she looks like she's just had the most HORRIBLE scare paralysis possible. THEN your smile drops

And when she sifts through them all, what waits for her is an empty void. A purely empty space, the stars practically refusing to decorate this scape unlike before she went deeper into your mind.

And she sees youTHEM

And THEYyou reach out to her and attempt to drag her with youHERheTHEM to have her witness the lonely death of--

You ask her if she's okay just in case she's absolutely unimpressed you, and it is only now when you notice all the attention on you and you ONLY❗️❗️❗️ And you pointedly narrow your eyes at her when she shakes her head and grits her teeth the slightest bit before answering. But she doesn't relent so okay fine, you won't.

But when she looks back into your eyes again and see that fire that was supposed to be briefly extinguished all those many years ago, not only is she even more intrigued, but.. perhaps even a little scared for you too.

After all, what awaits you at the end of your journey: the line that you had reached so long ago, or a new ending that over writes that abyssal loneliness?

..She hopes for dear life it's the former.

#this is me writing funky eldrich horror at 1 am #fuck if I know how it'd actually work #if this is incomprehensible mb guys i wrote this while half asleep like i was blinkinf off at the near end #hazy samples! #surprise haze! #honkai star rail #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr imagines #hsr x reader #black swan #honkai star rail black swan #hsr black swan #black swan x reader #hsr black swan x reader #black swan imagines #akivilicarnation!reader

[shinjisdone]

Hi there! first time resquest here. So I won't waste my shit! >:D

If it's not too much trouble, I could resquest:

Type: Headcanon (Romantic)

Reader: Female

Proctetive Promt:

1.- " i don't know how long i'll be able to protect you for, but i guarantee you, i'll only stop with my final breath. "

2.-" who did this to you? where are they? "

Character: (TWST) Silver and Sebek

I hope that my request is not too long, in case it has complications you can discard it if you wish. But if not, take your time and no pressure 🌠🌌✍️ By the way, I love your TWST fanfics! They have a unique format and ideas! :D

Well, good day, bye 👋💐

Very interesting and fitting for both of them! It actually works to include both in the same scene as well! Thx for the request! And for the compliments omg

hope it was romantic enough for you???

Copied your request because the format is perfect

Twisted Wonderland

Type: Headcanon (Romantic)

Reader: Female

Proctetive Promt:

1.- " i don't know how long i'll be able to protect you for, but i guarantee you, i'll only stop with my final breath. "

2.-" who did this to you? where are they? "

Character: (TWST) Silver and Sebek

TW: Hardcore bullying mentioned only (due to reader being magicless and a girl), injury and blood caused by others to you, reader belittles herself, crying, tattletale Sebek, knight Silver

Your damn gut feeling was right.

There was something exciting about going on this trip - even as Vargas proclaimed it as a 'survival of the fittest' test to see how witted his students are 24/7.

The forest can be quite beautiful on Twisted Wonderland - the lakes, the meadows, the caves.

You'd be here with friends and classmates even if that familiar trio of bullies were also coming and kept giving you a queasy feeling.

You'd brush it off for once and enjoy yourself.

You were so stupid to do so.

The three students are ruthless - kept on jabbing and pushing your buttons as a 'magicless' student, a 'failure'. Like a glitch in the system; because what was a magicless student doing here in NRC?

And it didn't help you were the only girl here in this all-boys-academy.

Pulling on your hair, making stupid remarks, pervertedly flicking up your skirt.

You aren't meant to be here.

There you are, crying in a ball as blood pours out from somewhere on your foot. It's hard to see where exactly in this dark cave.

You tried to be optimistic - you've been through worse but no matter where you twisted and turned you couldn't find the exit. And soon you gave in to this pain in your chest, the tightness in your throat and the pain in your foot as you sobbed alone in the dark.

If only you had magic and could easily find a way to get out of here. This could only happen to you.

Your sob halted in your throat as you heard a rumbling. Small rocks would fall before dim light entered your vision. Wiping your tears you hear fast footsteps until familiar silver entered your blurry vision.

"There you are! What happened?!" You swallowed as he approached. Silver's lavender eyes were wide and his entire demeanor more tense than usual - the complete opposite when he openly yawned next to you in the camp, feeling unusually safe in the forest.

He was quickly close beside you, his eyes scanning you up and down. You just tried to quickly wipe your tears as he asked question upon question.

The numerous attempts to joke at this situation fell flat - you cannot brush off the blood pooling out of your skin. In fact, Silver cursed and quickly tended to your foot. Asking you how this could have happened and why you are alone here anyways as he also instructs you to lift your leg.

"Oh," You choke out but try to sell it out as laughter, "Funny that you ask. I wasn't looking where I was going and..." You keep on faking giggles as your story became more and more unstable and Silver's piercing glare made your made-up alibi crumble.

"(Name). I am serious. What happened, why are you injured and all alone here? You can tell me." Though his lips did not even rose upwards, his eyes softened and your guard fell. The laughter came out in chokes as you let the tears fall. "Silver-senpai...I think I should just go home."

He startles as he watches you cry. He may not be the most observing, even as he tries to stay awake all the time, but he believes he has never seen you so dejected before. He listens with wide eyes as you belittle yourself, believe that you shouldn't be here and that is best if you go back to NRC early.

"I mean look at me...I couldn't do anything to get out of here...if it weren't for you, I'd cry till dawn and no one would notice a thing. The guys were right...you even helping me isn't something I deserve...!"

You hide your tear-stained face, mumbling incoherrently but Silver was able to catch one thing. He leans closer.

"Someone did this to you, right? Someone threw you in here and you got hurt..."

He cursed inwardly. He just recently noticed you were missing and made a mad-dash towards where you were last seen...but even before that he didn't even catch you being tormented in the group. Silver just easily let himself doze off, feeling safe in the forest.

But you didn't. And he didn't notice the fact that you needed help and he could've done something to protect you.

"I don't know how long I can still take this...I'm not made for this trip, not for NRC. I'll just go home." You managed to silence your whimpers and wiped your tears. Your claim made something inside Silver stir.

You startled as Silver suddenly but elegantly knelt in front of you, bowed his head and pressed his hand on his chest. "Forgive this pathetic knight," He let out sternly with closed eyes, "I don't know how long I'll be able to protect you for, but I guarantee you, I'll only stop with my final breath."

Letting out puzzled noises at his sudden and stiff behavior as he adjusted your foot one last time before bringing one arm each under your back and knees. "S-Silv - Wha...???" You yelp as he hoists you up and carries you like a princess.

He walks out from where he came from. "I've trained for this my whole life but I still failed. I'll protect you until this trip is over, I promise you, (Name). You deserve it, milady."

Okay, now he is going too far with his knightly-duty talk.

Just as you were approaching the outside light, another silhouette came rushing from the side and almost colliding with the wall next to them. With a swift swing, it seemed to be Sebek, panting, glaring and dirty all over.

"SILVEEEERRRR!" He almost stumbled forwars but stopped himself right before bumping ino the two of you. "THE HUMAN IS NOT IN THE-!!!"

He gasped OUTLOUD when he saw you. Finally!

"(NAME)! THERE YOU ARE-"

Again, he stops himself. The big grin on his face disappeared as his face slowly shifted into one of calm rage.

"Who did this to you? And where are they?"

Sebek was eerily calm as he helped you wipe a few tears away. While you tried to explain yourself, his eyes scanned your torn clothes, the filth all over you and your bandaged foot.

"...It's...it's not much, I was careless and..."

"Stop spouting nonsense. I saw those humans, the trio of evil. Just as I was about to go to Vargas, you vanished..."

"YOU SHOULD'VE SAID SOMETHING, HUMAN GIRL! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO HELP WHEN YOU CANNOT EVEN TELL ME THE EASIEST AND SMALLEST THING?!"

"Sebek. That's not what she needs to hear right now."

OH YEAH?! WHY ARE YOU HOLDING HER UP LIKE A PRINCESS ANYWAY, WE MUST HURRY BACK AND PERFORM J U S T I C E."

You try to stop them but Sebek is adamant on tattleing telling everything to Vargas - and then speaking to the bullies himself.

How dare they do that to you?! Magicless being just trying to do her best! You're bleeding and they are the cause for it.

Silver on the other hand is focused on bringing you to a safe place and guarding you like the knight he promised to be for you - without daring to fall asleep once.

Silver kept on tending to your wound and accompanying you wherever you went, carrying when he deemed it necessary which was all the time.

He'd ask his animal friends to just...prickle him awake whenever he is close to dozing off. Not on duty!

He cannot let go of the 'milady' talk. It was like your words were a spell and the moment they left your lips, he has been in knight mode ever since. It's like a sixth sense. Other students look at you weird but he doesn't care.

Sebek is MARCHING over to Vargas, pointing to the bullies and the contemptuous things they've done. He will gladly take them on via court system style, justice will prevail!

After that he will sure yell their ears off on how disgusting they are and alllll the other thoughts and opinions he has of them. Will surely bring in you into the conversation a lot and how you felt, kind of indirectly letting everyone know of his feelings for you.

"THIS HUMAN GIRL MAY BE MAGICLESS, CARELESS, AND HANGS WAY TOO MUCH OUT WITH WAKA-SAMA BUT SHE TRIES HER BEST AND IS MUCH MORE WONDERFUL THAN ANY OF YOU; THAN ANYONE WHO IS ATTENDING THIS TRIP! - E-EXCEPT W-WAKA-SAMA, OF COURSE...!"

Nice save, Sebek.

Will hover over you like a protective mother hen. Makes sure you rest well, eat and drink enough. Will often fight with Silver during the trip on what is considered 'good enough' for you.

Sebek will start screaming and Silver tries to calm him down, his yelling is stressing you and you've been through enough.

The rest of the trip is just having these two protectively glued to you.

EDIT: I JUST HAD AN IDEA AT WORK

When you explain yourself why you are belittling yourself, Silver will softly but sternly tell you that it's not true. Will give objective truths and past actions of yours to prove that you are worthy of being here. And...that you are liked very much.

When you say these things while he carries you, he will press your head to his chest as he proves you wrong. His voice is soft and his breath fawns on the crown of your head.

When you say these things while just sitting there and him listening he might take your hand, 'milady' and absent-mindedly is about to kiss it - before Sebek slaps it away and reminds him that he may be awake but is sure daydreaming to go that far!

Slightly jealous but also just doesn't want Silver to go beyond boundaries.

Sebek on the other hand has a hard time not yelling at you while telling you you're wrong. His face gets sweaty and progressively more red as he tries to keep his feelings subtle and not tell you too much of what he thinks of you. It's almost impossible though.

Unlike Silver, Sebek proves you wrong by telling you how he sees you. What are you talking about?! For a magicless girl you are hardworking! Studious👏! Helpful👏! WONDERUL👏! NICE TO YOUR PEERS👏! VERY PRETTY- augh, he said too much.

Inhales very sharply when telling you - as if it were a government secret.

#request #twst #twisted wonderland #silver twisted wonderland #silver vanrouge #silver twst #sebek twisted wonderland #twst sebek #sebek zigvolt #twst x reader #f!mc #twst headcanons #twst silver x reader #twst sebek x reader #female reader #had a good idea i think #i liked making this #ngl headcanons is soooo much easier to do #even though this is not that different from writing a normal scene

[ressonancee]

I THINK WE MARRIED IN VEGAS

✷ You and Jeonghan have always been friends, and friends go on a trip together, right? And somehow friends always end up marrying in Las Vegas right? And somehow friends become roommates as well right? That all seems very normal when Yoon Jeonghan has a weird addiction to doing the dumbest things ever just for shock value.

✷ genre: comedy (?), angst, smut (minors don't interact)

✷ word count: 28.244

✷ featuring: Yoon Ttoram, Choi Seungcheol, Lee Seokmin, Kim Mingyu as the unnamed satan-spit roommate one night stand, and Xu Minghao as the gothic impasto painter guy. 

✷ thea’s note: hey y’all this is my longest fic yet so I’m weirdly proud. I had fun writing this and trying to figure out how to build this Jeonghan and yes I did rewatched the birth of Ttoram while writing this. By the way - love you guys but the whole credit/debt/buying a house is just for plot I do not know how any of this works in America (and it is mainly set in America because I needed Vegas lol) <3 So bear with it. Also thanks to @wongyuuu for keeping me company in this nanowimo challenge, and thaks to @toruro Mika you are the best <3 thank you for reading this 

✷ Smut warnings under the read more ✷

✷ smut count: lost count of how many times Jeonghan thought he was going to cum on his pant, 1 dick sucked, teenagers level of horniness, non penetrative sex still sex, a lot of kissing, a 3 second of cumplay still a cumplay i guess. 

"Should we do it?" you hear Jeonghan ask, his face focused on something outside the car’s window. The lights of all the neon signs dance on his face and features—like a scene from a movie. He looks tired and overworked even though you are somewhat on vacation.

"Do what?" you ask, trying to understand what he meant. Maybe he was talking about a hotel spa and you missed the beginning of the sentence because you were too lost in your own thoughts? Yeah, a message would be a lifesaver right now.

"That," he says, pointing at one of the hundreds of little chapels in Las Vegas. This one has a deal sign in big and bold letters—an Elvis Presley priest, a bouquet, a professional photographer, and a bottle of champagne for half the price. Well, you never thought about off-season in Vegas, but maybe business was a little rough at this time of the year, but to be quite honest that did seem like a great deal—the shopaholic in you would fall for it if it didn’t involve marriage.

"Are you drunk already?" you ask. Even though you have known the man for years, you still can’t read Jeonghan properly.

Sometimes you think about how he is a book that is written in a different language, and you couldn’t have access to him without a dictionary on the side. Jeonghan does look like a classic—he is well put together, he is fancy, and he would be one of those books that have an embellished spine—the prettiest book on your bookshelf. But at the same time, he is one of those books that need commentaries on every page because somehow the author didn't care about giving enough context or didn't think his work would survive so many years. And one that the storylines end up being totally fucked up, so basically a Russian classical.

"No, I'm painfully sober," Jeonghan says while leaning his head on the window of the car. It almost makes you laugh when you hear the loud sound of him bumping his head, even the Uber driver who didn’t utter a word turns his head back. "It's just," he starts again, "I heard Seungcheol talking about it, and it seems nice to be married."

"What are you talking about?” you say in disbelief,  “Seungcheol is not married yet, he is having a bachelor party in Vegas. He is drinking his weight in alcohol and spending the college tuition of his firstborn in the casino. You and him know about the same thing about marriage, which equals barely anything."

“Yeah but he did talk about all the perks—Oh thank you,” he notices that the Uber finally arrived at the hotel feat casino and all the Vegas shenanigans. Jeonghan holds the car door for you, like a true gentleman—you almost scoff. “What I was trying to say is, Seungcheol did talk to me about being married, it doesn’t feel like a bad deal at all.” Again, he holds the door for you.

“So we should just get married in Vegas because Seungcheol said it is a great deal?” you ask Jeonghan like he said the stupidest thing ever, which is partially true. It was one of the stupidest things he’d ever said to you, and you’ve known the man for years—you’ve witnessed a fair  amount of his stupidity, all laced with his all-knowing smile. Every time you tried to understand what he was talking about it always left you feeling like this man was insane.

“I mean? What would you lose?” Jeonghan asked, crossing his arms after pushing the elevator buttons—one for your room, the other one so the door closes faster (he is one of those people).

“A lot?” you say almost laughing. What the fuck? It resonates in your mind, almost like the words are bumping the walls of your cranium, like the old Windows 98 screensaver logo.

“Yeah? Like what?” Jeonghan asks and the ping of the elevator makes sure both of you know that it arrived before opening the door.

“Freedom,” you say, trying to stay normal and not succumb to Jeonghan—you both hear someone saying,“Hold!” across the hall. Jeonghan just smiles and clicks the button to close the door. Maniac really, without basic education. To be fair though, it was a frat dude with another frat dude who could wait for the next elevator without dying, but still.

“Come on, you are a book editor. You love everything that has nothing to do with freedom, you love rules and everything that shackles you.” You scoff hearing Jeonghan’s words.

You want to argue, you want to kick and scream and pick a fight because is he basically calling you boring right? He is totally calling you the most boring person he’s ever met, and you are in Vegas - and still, somehow, you are the boring girl. But he is right about it—you do not leave your comfort zone, you do not do crazy very well, and you don’t even drink that much because losing control of situations makes you slightly insane. And Jeonghan is right because he is one of your closest friends, and you talked about it with him, he even knows how this is a recurrent topic in your therapy. Asshole.

“Well, still don’t give me the urge to marry you, your sales points are awful—how do you hold your job?” You ask side eyeing your friend, well, if you wanted to marry someone calling them boring is not the right way to do it.

“I do a better job when I need to sell to investors, I’m not giving my all right now since you are not paying me,” Jeonghan says, leaving the elevator and looking back at you. Well, not giving your all when you are asking someone for marriage - number two mistake.

“I’d hope so, otherwise your name would be number one in the next layoff,” you say rolling your eyes.

“Come on,” Jeonghan scoffs. “You didn’t hear Seungcheol talking about the benefits," he says, opening the door to your shared hotel door. The deal was to sleep in a weird hotel that may have bedbugs or share a room and a bed with Jeonghan in a more upscale hotel whose bathroom didn’t look like a crime scene. Not a difficult decision, to be quite honest.

“Is Seungcheol now a pro-marriage coach?” you ask, taking off your shoes and leaving your bag on the nearest chair.

“Probably, I mean, the side money would be crazy,” he says, taking off his watch and leaning against the table, again crossing his arms. “What I meant is did you ever think about the tax deduction, health insurance benefits, leave benefits? Also, Seungcheol did remind me that the bank raises the chance of getting approved credits if the spouse has a great credit history.” 

“Yet he is the one marrying because he loves his girlfriend,” you remind Jeonghan, because apparently he is forgetting one the key ingredients of marriage in contemporary societies - love, affection, and a dose of “I love you but leaving with you every time you forget the toothpaste open is making me thinking about how life in hell would look like.”

“Right,” Jeonghan scoffs, making you even more curious.

“What would you need credits for?” you ask. Jeonghan is an unmarried and childless man, who works on investments, travels twice a year, and has a car. You on the other hand work in a crumbling industry - books, who reads books? - don’t travel a lot and your car is like twelve years old.

“Marry me and I tell you,” Jeonghan answered without letting the ball drop, quick on his feet like always, you could never catch this man.

“Tell me and I will think about it,” You try to pry.

“A house.” He says earnestly.

Again - you know Jeonghan, and you know your friend is a lunatic, but you also know when he is being completely honest with you. The man did want that house, which was completely weird. Jeonghan was a city guy, he was living in a rented apartment sure, but it was a great apartment, it even had a view. He worked downtown, why would he need a house?

“A house?” You try again, trying to get more details of what the heck is making your friend go crazy out of a sudden.

“Yeah, a house.” He says shrugging like it is the most common thing ever, maybe it is a well-known scheme of marrying for taxes and credits that you don’t know, maybe you are late. Maybe you are outdated putting together marriage and love in the same sentence, maybe, the world has changed. “Will you marry me?” Jeonghan asks you in his dullest voice ever like he is tired and completely bored.

“No.” You deadpan.

“Come on, at least pretend that you are thinking about it,” Jeonghan says, lying on the bed horizontally, his face is now closer to you and his legs are too big so they hang out of the bed, like a kid almost. “It has four bedrooms so you can move and say fuck you to Laurel the accountability girl.”

Well, that makes you think about it. He should have started with that. Maybe if he just proposed a new roommate scheme you would’ve said yes in the uber.

“I don't hate her that much,” you lied through your teeth, you hated that girl. You blamed the real state crisis because the rent was crazy, sharing the apartment was a good deal on paper, and half of the rent money went to your savings account so you could live in peace - Jeonghan actually advised you on how to save and where to invest if you wanted to retire quickly, but you never really thought about buying shares and selling shares and the whole ordeal.

“Fuck you,” He laughs, “every week I have to hear you complain how she lets food go bad and how it leaves your fridge stinky enough to make you almost puke, and that only happens when she doesn't food go bad on the kitchen counter or wait, do you remember when she forgets to lock the door two times last week?”

“Well, I am sorry if I have listened to true crimes podcast enough to be actually aware of the horrors of being a woman and how serial killers are out there just waiting for you to sleep with the fucking door open,” you say like you are the most reasonable person ever.

“And you are right, what I am saying is that I would lock the door so no one can enter the house, I would be a better roommate.”  

“Sure we do not have to marry to be roommates we can look for suitable places in our price range,”

“Look at this,” Yoon Jeonghan says, fiddling with his phone, “It has four bedrooms, three and a half bathrooms, the kitchen is great, it has a backyard and a solarium.”

“Fuck-”  You say, sitting on the bed, your thigh close enough to his arm that you feel the warmth of his skin, “that’s, that's crazy.” 

“I know,” he says turning on the bed and closing his hand on his stomach like he is dead, just staring at the ceiling, “The price is not bad either, one of my clients is trying to sell so he can invest in a new startup so it is not actually in the market right now but will be in a few weeks so-”

“Did you try to get the loan?”  You ask, finger still going on his phone looking at different pics of this completely perfect house. All the rooms were big, and with natural light - crazy. The Solarium looked like a thing out of this world. And you could see yourself living there, if you had enough money you could live the dream, but that house was just out of your price range. God, with that garden you could have a dog. Damn.

“I don't want to pay interest to a bank,” Jeonghan almost whines, because he knows how this whole thing works and how he would have to pay the loan and half of the loan because banks are greedy bastards.

“Can I have two bedrooms?”

“What do you need two bedrooms for?” Jeonghan asks, finally looking at you and dropping his i-am-almost-dead act.

“My room, one office,” you explain. You know the office would be the one with two larger windows facing the garden. Oh what a joy - to build a life you would never live, it was indeed one of your favorite hobbies, maybe that’s why you love books so much.

“Ok, I guess. I can make something out of the basement.” Jeonghan replies nonchalantly making you laugh.

Maybe that’s why you two were friends, you had a great time speaking nonsense to one another. You both just kept feeding into whatever fantasy you built, like reality could not touch everything. You and Jeonghan had this weird pattern of just sitting, eating and talking for hours and hours about whatever that had nothing to do with the truth. What would you do if you won the lottery? What would you do when you retire? What would you do if you woke up on a desert island? What would you do if your boss was imprisoned for embezzlement? Ok not the last one, scratch that, this one actually happened.

“I can give you 5% of the price tag, and we can share the loan if it matches my current rent price range, but we need to actually draft something with a lawyer later so we can only sell the house to ourselves, I don’t trust you enough to buy this house without a lawyer on my side.”

“Dude-” Jeonghan jerks on the bed, he sits and turns his body to face you. “Wait, do you hate Laurel that much?”

“Yoon Jeonghan, do you want a marriage to up your credit score or what? I paid my student loans in record time, the banks love me.” 

“I don’t know if you are joking or not,” He tells you. 

"Can you call room service?" You ask heading to the bathroom, while you tie your hair - like you are preparing yourself for a dire work task - maybe talk to a translator about a deadline, they are worse than writers, "I think we will need more alcohol." 

"Wait," you hear Jeonghan's voice echo through the door, "are we actually gonna do it?" 

You are joking. 

And you know Jeonghan was too. With the years of knowing him, you knew that the majority of things that left Jeonghan's mouth had a shock value purpose. Induce distress first, we talk about truth later - or never. That made you 100% sure that you would never marry that man. You knew him enough - twelve years, since high school. He knew you as well - he knew all your teenage traumas, all of your romance fiasco, and he met all of your exes. 

You would never, never, marry that man.

Right?

Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

When you open your eyes and the white ceiling greets you, you can hear yourself groaning almost involuntarily. Your head aches. You know you will regret everything that happened the night before, even though you don't know what actually happened, and what you need to hold yourself accountable for. But you know the taste of a life-changing hangover that has a side dish of regret and a cup of shame to go. But it couldn’t possibly be so bad right?

Ok, maybe moving your body was not the very first thing to do. You try to open your eyes again. Well, at least you were in your own hotel room. Jeonghan is by your side, his arm across your stomach and somehow his face is near your armpit. You try to sniffle yourself, but so far doesn't like you are actually stinky. Your deodorant was doing a great job so far, maybe it actually has a 24-hour action or something like that.

You try to lift yourself up, sitting in the bed, head in hand because everything spins. Oh God help you. Besides the headache you feel sticky and sweaty, and all gross. You can't believe you didn't shower, and if you didn't shower you didn't take your makeup off, and if you didn't take your makeup off you totally threw your 43-day steak of doing your skincare routine. Fuck. Maybe you could just delete the app, or pretend that yesterday never happened. Deal with the blank day that screams how bad you fucked up was not an option though, it would never happen.

“What the fuck did we drink?” You hear Jeonghan's hoarse voice. You take the hands off your eyes, the clarity feels like punching your cornea and brain, and Jeonghan's state is not very different from yours, his shirt is open and ruffled, his arms are shielding his eyes from the light entering the room, his hair is messy and he looks like he needed four days of sleep.

“Fuel? Petrol? Satan spit in a cup?” You answer dropping yourself on the bed again, every joint of your body aches. It is ridiculous how you feel trapped in a 90 years old body, and like that is not enough you feel nauseated beyond words. And every time you can feel and hear Jeonghan breathing it feels like it is piercing your skull, would be rude to ask your friend to stop breathing and just stay completely still? He would understand, right?

“Do you think room service can get us some painkillers?” He groans lifting himself up this time, “Or maybe a gun?”

“Can you call them? I think I will puke if I sit for more than half a minute,” you say, your hand going into your mouth as if it would actually help if the worst-case scenario happened.

“I think I can, the problem is that you need to get me the phone,” Jeonghan tells you groaning between words. His hand points to the object and there is no way in hell you are moving to get that, that would mean you getting up and turning and being alive altogether.

“I can't I told you I gonna puke,” you try to explain how serious your condition - also known as hangover - is.

“It is by your side of the bed" He groans again and yet he sounds just like a petulant child, maybe it is a gift.

“I can't I will puke on the carpet it only makes things worse,” you try again, “or worse I can puke on the bed, you included in the radio of the vomit you know it splashes.”

“Ok, stand still,” Jeonghan says, “don't kick me, I'm doing it for both of us”

And you do as you are told because being still right now is the only thing you can do - even moving your eyeballs seems too much right. So Jeonghan just dropped his body on top of yours, he is also sweaty, and he reeks of alcohol. Damn, he actually smells like gasoline. He picks up the phone and presses a few buttons. His body is still above yours, pressing into you.

“Be quick you are pressing my blade," you say after the surprise of having him against you fazes out.

“What the fuck do you need to pee or vomit? Ah yes, hello,” He says changing his voice in the middle of the sentence from something that says intimacy is a disease to his customer service voice without pausing, “hm do you guys have room service that includes painkillers?” He waits, nodding his head as he hears something before he remembers his on the telephone. “Oh okay, thank you, can you send it? Oh yeah great, yes if you can do that, yes, pancakes, toasts with poached eggs and avocado, coffee hmm” he thinks about it, looks at you, thinks about a second or two, and then adds, “Can you send us four cups of coffee? Thank you.”

Jeonghan finishes the call with a groan leaving his mouth, he places the phone on its holder. But when you think he will get himself off of you he only plops down, his body weight getting heavier. His bones poking your body, what the fuck he was doing with your elbow on your ribcage?

“Jeonghan what the fuck-" You complain, trying to kick your legs in a vain attempt to make your friend move.

“I got us painkillers and food, let me recharge for a bit stop complaining,” Jeonghan says in a dead tone of voice, almost like he is dealing with a kid throwing some type of tantrum - the only thing is that, in this occasion, the child is you and somehow you want to kick his shin, because you are the one right in this situation, and you could totally just plop down in a mall disgusting floor if Yoon Jeonghan was your father too.

“You are heavy!” You try again but somehow Jeonghan is stronger than you think and his body is still over yours like nothing is happening, maybe you are just dehydrated and fucking muscle-less, maybe the yoga wasn’t doing much when you almost killed your liver.

“I am not,” Jeonghan says, now he is the one being the moody child in the supermarket, maybe he will go off without parental supervision. Oh wait, this was Yoon Jeonghan he actually did wander away when he was out about with his parent and ended up three blocks away just because he saw an ice cream truck. Jeonghan was the easiest kid to be kidnapped, you ask yourself how he ended up being safe and sound, and in one piece.

“Just because you are skinny it doesn’t mean you aren’t heavy.” You try again pushing on Jeonghan bony shoulder, even that is pointy. “bones are heavy too, get off of me!”

“You kind of stink," Jeonghan says, his head still lodged in the space between your neck and shoulder.

“Well you asshole you are not better yourself, and you are stinky too and sticky like you showered in bear or something.”

“Maybe I did, I don’t know I can't actually think,” He groans finally trying to lift himself up, “We should shower,” he says sitting on the bed and looking down at you.

“You go first,” both of you say at the same time

You end up going first. Mainly because you needed to pee and you think that once you are up you may as well just use the opportunity to shower otherwise you would just drop dead on the floor and never get up again - you will be stinky and gross forever. Also, you think that if hell breaks loose and Jeonghan actually pukes you at least already used the shower. Back in college, he puked on the sink because it was the closest thing to the door, or whatever poor excuse he came up with, and that scene still haunts you, because somehow the sink was clogged. Ew, you think, finishing peeing and wiping yourself up. You wash your hands and say thank you for your past self because your necessaire is splayed on the counter, you pick up your face wash and head to the shower. Ok, let's deal with it. You need to wash your hair too. You open the register, letting the water hit your foot in an attempt to get just the perfect temperature.

You close and open the registers a few times - to fix the temperature, but you not gonna lie, to make up your mind too. But when you let the water hit your face - in an almost drowning attempt, you know you made the right decision, shower first was the only option. You let the water wash away for a few minutes until you are ready to really start your shower. First step - wash your face. Well, you needed to buy a new face wash this one was in its last few stages of life, you close your eyes and start to rub against your skin, normal, until you few something slightly different on your hand - almost like scratching the skin, you open your eyes and you finally notice, a band on your finger.

You turn your hand and it finally hits you.

It is a ring.

With a big rock.

In your ring finger.

A big damn rock on your ring finger.

“Yoon Jeonghan” you scream in horror.

On the other side of that door, Jeonghan just hears you scream. He actually picks himself up in record time and room towards the bathroom, oh shit did you just fall and hit your head? Did you break the glass of the fancy hotel shower? Are you dying? So without thinking much Jeonghan opens the bathroom door and he just finds you - completely naked and seemly okay, just staring at your own hand.

“What happened?” He asks trying to catch his own breath, maybe he does need to start working out man, he didn’t feel this horrible when he was hitting the gym after shifts, but also he didn’t feel that great either the whole gym rat thing was not his ordeal.

“What did we do?” You ask still in complete horror, not even thinking about how this is the first time Yoon Jeonghan, your friend is seeing you completely naked. 10/10 would not recommend this experience. Not even to Laurel, her satan spit roommate.

“What? Are you going crazy? I thought you fell and opened your skull or something,”

You just look at Jeonghan, dead in his eyes, like the reality is worse than falling in the bathroom, opening your skull and calling the paramedics naked. You just turn your hand to him - like it is enough to make him understand what a dire situation it is. And you swear to god you can almost see the little flakes of light on the bathroom floor, the rock is big enough to shine across the room.

“Did you call me to show me your ring? Couldn’t you wait until you put your clothes on?” Jeonghan asks leaning into the doorway.

“Jeonghan did we-” you say but you feel your own throat closing around itself, it can’t be right?

“Hm?” he asks without a blink of an eye.

“Oh we did, we totally did," you sighed, more to yourself than to Jeonghan.

“No, you are not that crazy,” he claimed. What is that even was supposed to mean? He was crazy enough for it but you the two goody shoes wasn’t?

“Jeonghan check your bank receipt,” you demanded, trying to connect the dots in a way, trying to find a physical proof, maybe you just bought a way too expensive ring for yourself, or maybe it was just impulse buying.

Before you can move Jeonghan almost runs towards the room, you try your best to keep up with him but you are a little behind because for the first time, you actually are aware of how naked you are. You pick up the fluffy bathroom robe - yeah the fancy hotel had its perks.

“Oh fuck” you can hear Jeonghan before you can see him, his phone it’s on his lap, his head is on his head - he is a man defeated.

“Did we?” You try to probe, but your voice sounds weird in your own ears - almost small, and the reality hits you, you are kinda scared. The reality of maybe having fucked up hits you like a trunk, you always been a nice girl, you never fucked up - at least not that bad, what would you mean if you married on a drunk whim?

“I think,” Jeonghan says, his hand on his greasy hair, fuck he needed a shower. “I think we fucked up real bad.”

You sit beside Jeonghan, you both staring at the wall ahead of you in disbelief. You are still gross, but now your damp hair is actually dropping on the bed and you can’t bring yourself to care. The fact that Jeonghan is motionless by your side without uttering a word is what freaks you out more. Jeonghan is not someone who is fazed so easily - his mouth is agape and his eyebrows furred, the ‘i-am-utterly-stressed’ Jeonghan feature is what freaks you out really.

“Ok Hannie,” you breathe softly. “That’s what we are going to do, I am going to shower, then you are going to shower, we gonna eat breakfast, then we are going to return this ring, then we are going to call Joshua, he is a lawyer, right? He probably will know what to do.”

“Joshua is a real estate lawyer,” Jeonghan mutters without blinking.

“Jeonghan focus!” You say getting out of bed, “divorce is a thing we don’t need to stay married.”

You take one of the longest showers in human history. You needed a good shower, but, the majority of the time under the shower you think about how the hell you got so drunk to marry Jeonghan. Some flashes of memory blink on the forefront of your mind every time you blink; a vegas chapel, not an Elvis but an Elton John in front of you, Jeonghan picking one of the most expensive ring in a fancy story. How the fuck fancy jewelry runs for twenty four hours?

Every flash comes with a sharp pain, the fucking headache.

When you get out of the bathroom the breakfast is already in the room. You take a bit of egg and toast just so you can shove coffee down your throat without having to deal with the stomach pain. You search the ring case and don’t find anywhere, maybe it is safe on Jeonghan’s thing, maybe he kept it safe, or you hope so. When you sit on the bed you stare down the ring, it is a beautiful ring and you are pretty sure it is something Jeonghan chose, it is beautiful, but at the same time, it is just too much.

You need to return it, no doubt about it.

You try to take the ring one and somehow it doesn’t even budge. You scoff, what a tricky little thing. So you try again, and again the thing doesn’t move. You can feel the drop in your blood pressure, what the heck? You lost track of the time when Jeonghan opened the bathroom door and you looked at him in shock, you look down at your red and bloated finger.

“This shit is stuck in my finger?” You say trying to take off one final time before just breaking your finger.

“Well, I think this is a good time to tell you,” he starts his voice all weird and over the place, “I kinda fucked up.”

“Jeonghan we are apparently married I already know we fucked everything up.”

“No, I-” Jeonghan begins, his hands now going through his washed hair, still wet and dripping on the floor, “I found a shred receipt and an invoice.”

“What the fuck?” You almost yell in pure knee-jerk reaction.

“I think it is yours now?” Jeonghan shrugs, like it is not a big deal even though you know that this ring is expensive, it must be, it has a giant rock and even though you know close to nothing about jewelry it looks expensive.

“What happened to us?” You question.

“You ask me? You don't remember anything?" Jeonghan says sincerely, and you know it is true. Jeonghan was kind of a prankster, he kinda did push people to its limit, but part of it was just doing fun things but also harmless shit. Like entering the beach at night, or hiding someone’s phone and pretending they did leave in the hotel so they can enjoy the trip without being bombarded by their special someone - read Seungcheol yesterday at lunch.

“Can we call Joshua?”

“I think we can do that later,” Jeonghan checks his watch, “I think it would be wiser just to show up to Seungcheol’s lunch and pretend that mini golf is fun, it would bring suspicious otherwise.”

“Jeonghan we married we didn’t commit a crime,” you say looking at him in disbelief.

“Do you want to deal with Seungcheol’s monologue about us getting married? I don’t think I want to deal with that with a killer hangover after a wedding walk of shame in fucking Las Vegas,” he drops. And God, that really sounds like a nightmare.

“Yeah,” you say looking at the big rock on your thing, “you are right, but we should probably still call Joshua,”

“I told you he is a real state lawyer didn’t I?” He says almost rudely to you, and you want to say that if you two are married both of you said yes it is not like you are the only one responsible for it but you try not to push his buttons.

“And what is your option Jeonghan?”

“I’m thinking about just getting drunk again so I can forget everything that is happening right now.”

What a fucking great idea.

Seungcheol is one of Jeonghan’s closest friends from college. Seungcheol just became your friend because you and Jeonghan were weirdly bound at the hip. You both shared your high school years, and when you two enrolled at the same university you only had two options, pretend you two didn’t know each other, or become conjoined twins. Jeonghan was a business major, you were enrolled in every class that had literature, poetry, or the name of a dead guy on it. But still, you and Seungcheol became great friends even though he is a finance guy. And Seungcheol was the reason you two were on a Vegas trip, the last trip of his life as an unmarried man, he had to make a sketchy deal with his fiancé in order to it to happen but still, according to him, it was worthy.

“Nice shot!” You hear Seungcheol's voice loud, bringing you back to reality. He is clapping as Seokmin - one of his other friends from work hits the ball down the hole.

Seungcheol’s voice, loud and clear, brings you back to reality.

Oh the joys of playing mini golf before lunch, you could spend days and days talking about how much you loved the idea and how every hole seems like a fucking nightmare but you are a married woman. Needless to say this whole situation wasn’t in your 2023 bingo card. You don’t pay attention when it is Jeonghan or Seungcheol’s turn, you wait until you have to put the ball in the hole, it probably takes you double the time, and then it starts again, ad infinitum. At least they are kind enough to not pressure you to perform like Tiger Woods or something.

You think about Jeonghan though. Somehow, he hasn’t changed. Jeonghan was the same Jeonghan you met in high school, of course, he matured and the years turned into baggage, but Jeonghan was still your friend who was playful enough to get married on a whim. Jeonghan was everything you weren’t in a way, somewhat playful and carefree, and still a very practical human being. Jeonghan was mischievous, but yet, not even once, he pushed you until you couldn’t take it, and that makes you think that somehow, with an unknown reason, in your drunk stupor, you wanted to marry Jeonghan, because hell can break loose, the skies can fall, but Jeonghan would never make you do something you did not want to do.

While Jeonghan and Seungcheol are busy hitting those tiny balls Seokmin stops by your side. You like Seokmin, Seokmin is kind, and you constantly think about how he is surviving the finance world, he doesn’t seem cut to it, but somehow he manages to stay alive against the monsters of capitalism, or, worse, he stays alive feed the monsters of capitalism. Ew. Seokmin’s face though seems focused on another thing, he looks in shock and happy at the same time, he probably did the whole hole in less than three shots you think.

“Oh my god,” He almost screams making you jolt in place, in all truth that was pretty much a common occurrence when your day to day involved Seokmin.

“Hm?” You question puzzled, looking at him trying to find a clue of something behind his feature when Jeonghan and Seungcheol finally join the two of you on the sideline.

“What is that?” Seokmin asks and you still without a fucking clue of what he is talking about. “Damn,” he says with his big smile across his face, making the tip of his nose get even more pronounced, “are you guys planning a surprise and I just ruined it?” His face changes in a blink of an eye.

“What surprise?” Jeonghan questions taking a drink of his gatorade like he was in the middle of an excruciating sport and not fucking mini golf after an unsafe amount of alcohol.

“That thing!” Seokmin cheered, and then it downs on you - the big ass ring on your hand, propped on the golf putter, and before you can hide it or chop your hand off the three man in your sight is eying the big damn rock that you forgot about,

“The what?” Seungcheol blurted.

“This is an engagement ring right?” Seokmin asks and you think about an ostrich, putting its head on the ground, you think you can do the same in one of the circuit's holes.

“No, it isn’t, how the hell they are engaged when they aren’t dating?” Seungcheol scoffs, acting like Seokmin is saying something that doesn't make sense, something that happened numerous times before, it could be happening again. It was happening again, at least to Seungcheol.

“We saw that one when we were looking for your fiancée present though,” Seokmin says all pouty and confused, and you think you almost try to defend his point of view as you always do, just because he is cute.

“It isn’t an engagement right?” Seungcheol asks

“It would be weird to be an engagement ring,” Jeonghan acknowledged the absurdity that envelopes the situation that you two are in, you want to try to take off the ring and just throw it across the field of mini golf, but a) it looked extra expensive, b) the three guys didn't even blink looking at your hand.

“Did you buy for aesthetic proposal?” Seokmin asks, "A girl that works with the human resources team did buy one just because she thought it was pretty."

“Of course,” Seungcheol claps, “I mean fashion was never your strong suit,” He says and it almost feels like a jab, “I almost brought that one, Jeonghan was dead set on this, saying it was the ring, but it was a bit on the expensive side”

“How expensive are we talking about?” You try to pry your body from reacting physically to the fact that Jeonghan shredded a fucking invoice and receipt, and the fact that even Seungcheol - the guy who buys twelves tumblers just because it was cute and ends up giving them away finds that expensive sets a new parameter of money waste.

“You didn’t check the price?" Seokmin asks, when you remain silent he continues, “Wow be you must be nice, balling and shit."

“How expensive are we talking about Seungcheol?” You try again, "Seokmin?" If you can’t return this damn thing at least you can try to sell it later. If you can’t find someone who can buy this you can sell for those weird and sketchy stores but you need to know how much you are actually losing on the deal, well, not you, Jeonghan but still, if you know the man he will just accept his fate and never move a muscle to deal with this ring situation.

“You really didn't check the price hun?” Seungcheol questions raising his eyebrow, like he always did when he couldn’t quite believe in you and it always made you feel angry with him. It was a tale almost, even when you were telling the truth he always raised that eyebrow questioning you, making you explain yourself.

“I brought the ring,” Jeonghan says nonchalantly like he is saying that he brought the bread on his way home. Jeonghan had this thing, a completely loath to let other people know his truest feelings. Even if he was one step away from a panic attack he would not tell you.

“Why would you do that?” Seungcheol asks again his voice is two tones higher, and you feel like he is questioning the two of you, and in his own mind he is the bad cop in the situation - Seungcheol liked that type of shit, and you think that maybe he is so into that because Jeonghan is his polar opposite, never giving Seungcheol a reaction.

“I told you I thought it was a beautiful ring man,” Jeonghan deadpans and take his fingers to move his bangs out of his eyes - making him look like a fucking prick, looking down at everyone else, and you know that just tickles something in Seungcheol. “What I am trying to say,” Jeonghan tries again, “is that the ring It is not an engagement ring because I didn’t ask her to marry me yet,” Jeonghan says walking by your side and enveloping your shoulder in an awkward hug. “I just confessed my feelings, it might be over the top a bit but you guys know I just had my eye on the ring.”

“Dude! Finally!” Seokmin says hugging Jeonghan, and you almost feel yourself choking on air.

When Jeonghan is free he whispers against your ear, his breath on your skin making you shrink, “Just bear with it.”

“What?” Seungcheol asks “Out of nowhere, you confessed your feelings? With an engagement ring?”

“Not an engagement ring Seungcheol we won't crash your wedding, relax,” Jeonghan says again, rolling his eyes.

“How much it was?” You try again dead set on finding out how much that was, apparently a new hyper-fixation.

“Babe,” Jeonghan says looking at you with a mischievous smile across his face, “it is not polite to talk about the price tag”

“What the hell I am watching right now?” Seungcheol bristled, more in anger than in frustration.

“It was long overdue really,” Seokmin gushed, in a terrible contrast to Seungcheol’s features, his voice is loud and his big smile stretches across his face, “I thought it was so fucking weird you two sharing a hotel room with the excuse of saving money, like we know Jeonghan has money,” Seokmin points to the ring, making your skin crawl.

“We are returning this,” you tell Jeonghan, your voice low while elbowing his ribs.

“Baby I told you,” Jeonghan appealed, grabbing your shoulder “We can’t do that”

“Like I personally found you guys always so weird like, I think I even asked Seungcheol if you guys were married in the past because you guys are really,” he moves his hands in a weird move in a way to mean how close you always had been, “like truly crazy and then I asked Seungcheol and he was like it is never gonna happen and I was like-"

And Seokmin goes on for about a good five minutes about how he thought the two of you were a couple, and in a way, you were so used to it that it didn't even startle you. The problem was that Seokmin truly believed Jeonghan’s lies, one thing was to think that you two were in a relationship - everyone had this basic reaction since the two were in college, even one of Jeonghan’s ex-girlfriend thought of, one of your coworkers too, Jeonghan’s door to door neighbors too, almost every single soul you two met. That alone was something you began to understand, yeah you and Jeonghan had a weird level of intimacy.

 If you mash together your college years you can sum up in - of course, we do not date, of course, you can go ahead and kiss him in this horrible pub, oh yeas I am living in his dorm at ungodly hours just because we decided to binge watch a docuseries, oh if I am wearing Jeonghan's clothes? Haha He saved my ass because I doped the coffee on my clothes - ps. The coffee didn't exist, and his girlfriend did break things up a week later, Jeonghan swore it wasn't because of you. Once one guy broke up with you because when he smelled you he could recognize Jeonghan's smell on you, Jeonghan toke as his duty to just fuck up with that guy's mind for a whole month. He told you over and over again that the guy was wrong and basically called you a cheater, so you might as well plant enough evidence to give them the mental image - Jeonghan planted underwear on said guy's returning box, a note with his own handwriting with meet me in secret at the library, and even brought you a small dog plushie to put in the box and when you asked why he said 'he will think another guy gave you a present'.

Knowing Jeonghan and the fact that he loved shocking people this whole act today didn't really shock you, in the end, you were the only that understand Jeonghan, because you would never ever fall for this weird ass act. Your default reaction to anything Jeonghan related was a fair amount of mistrust.

“What are you two doing?” Seungcheol asks again, his voice is laced with suspicion and mistrust.

“Doing what?” Jeonghan asks, his hand going to your hair and placing it behind your ear.

“Whatever you guys are doing,” Seungcheol says pointing his fingers at the both of you, and you think it is dumb to even pretend something to Seungcheol, he knows you, he knows Jeonghan he knows nothing like that would even happen and you still don't know why Jeonghan is even trying to lie to him. 

“Jeonghan-” you whine, marrying in Vegas is indeed something that brings you shame and regret but lying to your friends is even worse, how would you deal with that later?

You think you would prefer listening to Seungcheol’s monologue about how both of you are completely crazy, unreasonable, and unreliable, all of that rings true now. And it was Seungcheol, he would end up knowing somehow, even if you didn’t tell him now, you both would end up telling him. This whole scheme would fall like a house of cards somehow. You couldn't knock on Seungcheol door and say haha we were kidding, but Jeonghan could, you would make him do it.

“Seungcheol that’s actually-”

“What are we supposed to believe that after what? A decade you just woke up brought a ring and confessed your feelings?” Seungcheol asks, raising his voice enough to make you look around the damn mini golf to see if anyone is insane enough to care about this damn scene, “When you are a commitment phobe who has been on my ass for the past several months?”

“Look man, can you just drop it?” Jeonghan asks again - in the same aloof way he uses when he wants to piss you off, almost like he is flirting with the idea of being a patronizing prick. 

“Of course not, what the hell,” Seungcheol says, his tone still on the angrier side  “You didn’t even remotely tell us about this."

“Yeah well some people can actually keep secret,” Jeonghan says bitterly.

“What was that supposed to mean?” Seungcheol questions and just by the tone of his voice you know that shit is going down, you have seen countless fights between the two to know that Seungcheol was on the edge.

“It means that I can actually keep my individuality as a human being because I don’t have a crazy girlfriend who has trust issues so I need to overshare everyone’s personal life because she thinks you can cheat on her every monday to friday man,” Jeonghan quipped. He was not the one who loved to fight, Jeonghan was actually someone who would just shrug and resolve the situation later when it came back to bite his ass, but damn when he wanted to fight he was ready for it.

“Damn,” Seokmin breathed.

“What the fuck Jeonghan,” You and Seungcheol say at the same time, both in disbelief.

“It is the truth, isn't it?” Jeonghan chastised, “Dude you are traveling with friends and somehow the whole lunch was about how your girlfriend was pissed that you actually brought a ring to placate how angry she was."

“Jeonghan stop talking.” you plead, holding his arms trying to get his attention, to make him stop before things end up in a point of no return. 

“Why?” Jeonghan asks you this time, eyes focused on you and not Seungcheol.

“Because you are being a fucking asshole now,” you say “This is Seungcheol bachelor’s party the man is getting married,” you try again like Seungcheol is not in the room.

“Oh you think I don’t know about that?" He says exasperated, "We are in Vegas and this motherfucker drink one beer and told us to go to our own hotel yesterday so we needed to get drunk and-”

“Jeonghan,” you say again almost like a kid tugging Jeonghan's by his shirt sleeve.

“We are in fucking Vegas and we didn’t visit one strip club and we are playing mini golf that something off about this whole trip,” Jeonghan says loudly chuckling at his own words.

“Are you seriously right now? You are going on a tirade against your friend because he doesn’t take you to strip clubs?” It is your time to act in disbelief - strip club? Seriously?

“Maybe if we were at a strip club yesterday,” Jeonghan says eying you.

“You know what?” Seungcheol speaks up. “Fuck you, you are uninvited by the way, you go on and on about how you don’t think I should marry, well, then you don’t need to show up.”

You and Jeonghan are left side by side on the mini golf field. Standing there while the world still moving around. You want to break out in laughter, you want to just laugh at how the two of your friends seem to wake up on the wrong foot, you want to knock Jeonghan's head off his shoulder, but you end up just walking to return to the damn golf club. 

The whole way to the hotel you and Jeonghan spend in complete silence, not one uttering a single word.

And apparently - now you are the one that wants to start a fight out of nowhere. You are the one that wants to scream about how Jeonghan was being an unreasonable asshole. You try to wrap your head around his reasons, about why he would act like that and nothing that comes up in your own brain seems right.

So when you both are back in the hotel room - now with new sheets thank god, and less alcohol smell you just ask in the most nonsubtle way you can, you hold your own waist and ask like he was a teenager throwing a rude tantrum, “What was that?”

“What?” Jeonghan asks taking his time to take off his jewelry, watch the first thing, and later necklace, if he had any bracelet would be the third step of his routine.

“The whole Seungcheol marriage thing?”

“Well, you don’t have to deal with him drunk every Friday night telling you how overwhelmed and how he feels trapped since they set the wedding date,” Jeonghan says shrugging. 

“You told me he was going on and on about how great marriage is,” you say sitting on the bed, trying to understand all the things you apparently didn't know about Jeonghan and Seungcheol.

“Yeah, he has his own list of cons in his note app," Jeonghan huffs, "every time he thinks about calling it off, I think I just memorized it because he reads more than once a day”

“Fuck,” you say in a breath. In your own mind, Seungcheol not even once doubted his choice to get married, not even once seemed unsure of his decision.

“I was the one that said Vegas," Jeonghan says sitting on your side, both of you looking at the widow that faces a fucking parking lot, "I thought that he would get drunk enough to actually mess everything up because he can’t do sober, and by mess everything up I mean breaking up with his crazy girlfriend."

“Yeah, still, you didn’t need to be a fucking asshole,” you say seriously this time trying to face him.

“Well, I panicked ok?" Jeonghan finally breaks, "I wasn’t going to tell that man who is having a daily mental breakdown that we married in fucking Vegas.”

“I mean, I don't know about you but I think your friendship with Seungcheol is more important than being lectured because you married in Vegas, Hannie,” you tell him softly, patting his thigh.

“Well,” Jeonghan says, letting his hand on top of yours, “I guess I can't be gracious always,” he says with a sad smile.

“I know you are stressed out," You say calmly, "but you lashed out at Seungcheol and it wasn't great,”

“The fuck you are defending him for?” Jeonghan says standing up and pretending he is searching for something in that damn room.

“Are you serious?”

“What?" Jeonghan chuckles, "he can go on and on about how I am a commitment-phobe type of guy who is fucked up enough to not have a fiancée like him and it is all good and fun and games? But when I call out his fucking weird relationship I am the bad guy?”

“Jeonghan,” You try but before you can even finish he cuts you.

“No, don't Jeonghan me, the fuck,” he retorted, “you have the excuse of not knowing because I don't tell you, you could think I am an asshole and a horrible boyfriend because every time someone breaks up with me even though I am a great catch,” he laughs bitterly, “You can do that, Seungcheol can't do that, he doesn't have an excuse, he knows why.”

“I never ever think about you like that,” you say sincerely because it is the truth, never once have you thought about Jeonghan being afraid of commitment or being a shit asshole. You always thought about how every girlfriend of his always looked and sounded more in love with him than the other way around, but that wasn't exactly a character flaw.

“I know,” he says already sounding exhausted.

“No I don't think you do,” you say sternly, “like it never crossed my mind really, I always thought about how they were crazy for letting you go, so what you don't want to marry someone? the fuck you can still have a great life and a great relationship with someone without a ring, and I know you are capable of it," and to your own ears you sound almost bitter, how they could be so dumb? To have a chance to have Jeonghan and let him go? “You have always been there for me, you never once wavered, I have no reason to ever think of you in that light and I don't think Seungcheol is being fair, he wasn't, but he is getting married in three weeks Han.”

“Yeah and I am telling him his girlfriend has been a freak since week two when she threw a fit because she was jealous of you,” Jeonghan says shocking you, "because according to her own crazy brain, you are way too close to men so who knows what you will do when she turns her back."

“Of me?” You say pointing at yourself, “Damn, she is crazy."

“That’s what I am trying to tell him, and he isn't fuck listening I guess.”

The whole afternoon you think about Jeonghan.

You think about him when he is lying in the bed on his cellphone, and you continuously think about him when you find him napping in the same bed. You think about everything you don't know about your friend, and you think about everything he doesn’t share with you, that he chooses not to. And you know every single human has secrets, and there are things Jeonghan doesn't know about you too. But knowing that it is one thing, dealing with the emotions that come with it is another thing altogether. Why he would not tell you? Why he would tell Seungcheol?

Those questions live in your brain, rattling and making sounds every time they crash against your skull. You think about your friendship as well. Jeonghan was always there for you. He was there when you had your first heartbreak in the third year of high school, he was there when Mark broke up with you in college, and he was there every step of the way. He was there when you were sick, he was there when your favorite auntie died, he was there when you were panicking before your first job interview, he was there. You just couldn't wrap your mind around the fact that someone would call a man like that a commitment phobe or break up with him.

And what he said was true in some way, Jeonghan never broke up with anyone, he was always the one who was dumped and weirdly okay with it. Every time you talked about someone who didn't know Jeonghan you always painted him as the perfect guy, and it was true - he had a great job and his bank account was crazy even though he worked to the capital devil, he was someone who ha they shit together too, he helped his parent, he helped his friend, his house was never messy.

Every time you broke up with someone you talked about how you wanted a guy just like Jeonghan, nice and fun, but also low maintenance in a way, someone you could just comfortable be being with, without having to try too hard and do too much. And every time you met someone new, you always trusted Jeonghan's opinion, if he vetoed someone he had his reasons, like the weird guy that two months later was on the news because he emptied someone's bank account because they let their bank account info saved on the computer or something like that.

If you thought about it - really being married to Jeonghan was not even close to the worst thing that happened to you. Founding a dead rat once in the subway was worse, or that time when you found out that your roommate left the door open for weeks before you just never went to sleep before her just so you could make sure to close the door, and 95% of the time she didn't close the fucking door, that was worse than being married to Jeonghan.

“The fuck?” Jeonghan groans.

“What?”

“Apparently I messaged my account manager our marriage certificate asking if he could officialize the house-buying proposal, and apparently the bank green flaged it? The owner needs to accept the proposal of course, and it may take a while but-" Jeonghan stops halfway, almost like zooming out, staring at the wall ahead of him.

“I guess you are soon to be a house owner?” You question bringing Jeonghan back to reality.

“No, no-"

“Seriously if it is something that is helping you I don't mind, we can come back to Vegas a few weeks after the deal to annul it I looked up online it is not that hard we just need the documentation and the wedding certificate so," and it was true - you did research how to deal with the whole thing, it seemed easy, maybe that's why they actually let people marry crazy drunk, so they can pay to annul it and the city double the revenue, apparently crazy amount of drinking and casinos were not paying the bill.

“About that,” Jeonghan says, his hands tugging the sides of his hair.

“About what?” You ask.

"The wedding certificate,” he says, finally looking at you, his eyes big and still puffy because of his nap, “I think, I mean- I am pretty sure it is shredded with the receipt and invoice."

“What the fuck Jeonghan?” You shout, oh man, you are going to kill this man. The image is already on your head - jumping on that very same bed like a crazy woman and kicking him before you just kill him with your bare hands.

“I know,” he says almost in a grunt, laying down like a starfish.

“Why did you shred everything up for god's sake," you say almost stopping on the floor.

“I don't know okay?" Jeonghan says, sitting on the bed now, his cellphone forgotten, "Why did we marry? Can you answer that?”

“OOh," you huff, "We did get married, but I am soon to be a window if I don't kill in the next five minutes I swear to god”

“Wait, what changed if it is helping me?” Jeonghan says, back to his mischievous self, with a small smile across his face almost finding endearing the way that you try to threaten his life.

“You are making everything argh-” You are losing your damn mind and if you end up crazy it is Jeonghan's fault, now that he is indeed your husband has another tingle to you like a thriller movie, but you are afraid you are in your own Cameron Diaz Ashton Kutcher low budget 00's movie. Maybe you should take the whole thriller movie, it seems, weirdly, less weird. "First we cannot return this ring now I have to find someone who wants to buy it without documentation so everyone will think this shit is totally fake, I mean I would too, don't get me wrong I wouldn't trust myself either with this jewelry," you go off - almost missing the point, rambling really, before you get back to the point, "now we need to find a second copy of this certificate I swear to god we could just go to the nearest courtroom and annul the wedding I googled it." 

"I already told you you can keep the ring," Jeonghan says - voice low in contrast to your high-pitched complaints.

"Why would I keep this ring Jeonghan?" You question, it sounds weird in your own ears.

The truth is, you did love the ring, it is a beautiful ring but the truth is - you can't keep it. It shouldn't be yours to keep. It should go to someone Jeonghan wants to actually marry, even though you can't bring yourself to take it off your finger, even though you didn't even try to take it off after this morning.

And a breath almost gets locked in your throat. Why? You think, and deep down you know you have your answer but you just shove everything down when you hear Jeonghan's voice, "Well If you sell it I won't take the money."

"I can just pour it into my savings accounts," you say petulantly.

"The fuck," Jeonghan bites back.

"What? You said you didn't want it so I can keep the money," You try your best to sound even close to someone somewhat rational in this matter.

"It is a present you can't sell a present," Jeonghan though, never has a problem looking like he is saying the most rational thing ever even when it doesn't make any sense.

"I totally can," you bite back trying to hold your ground just out of pure spite. He didn't accept that cursed ring which is not even supposed to be yours why the hell he is making such a big deal of you selling or throwing it in the sea?

"You can't," Jeonghan says again, and you think back to your friendship and a lot of times it was like that - a lot of things without proper explanations.

"Why not?" So you just hold your ground - again, he will not win this one, this time he will have to explain.

"Because it is a present I picked up for you. I actually thought about it, I mean before drinking buying apparently, but I thought it would suit you" Jeonghan says, "Just don't sell, if you don't want to use it okay fine but just, just don't sell it, don't hurt a man's pride like that,"

You want to try again - to say you will sell this damn ring if you go to the store and it can't be returned, and you want to say you will throw it on the nearest river because Las Vegas is indeed very far from the sea. You want to push him until he says okay I take the damn ring and I will hold onto it and pass it through generations. But when Jeonghan speaks and he sounds so tired and so hurt you just give up and lock yourself in the bathroom pretending to take a shower before leaving this hellhole of a place.

You look at yourself in the mirror and ask yourself how the hell everything happened in such a short amount of time. A marriage, a fight, a ring that makes you go crazy. Maybe you are closer to having a breakdown, maybe it is the time to face things that you are trying to keep hidden under the rug. You think that maybe it is time to just downpour everything.

But like always, you don't. You bottle everything up and pretend that everything is fine.

The last few days in Vegas have been less eventful, thanks God. Jeonghan and you go to weird restaurants and for a walk around the town, and you think about how you got married in the city of Sins.

At least it is fitting to think that pride and wrath have something to do with your own stay in this city.

You often think about Seungcheol, sending him and Seokmin a message or two, or a total of 15. Seokmin answers you, Seungcheol doesn't. And you need to hold yourself back when you type down a fuck you but don't send. You try to pry on Jeonghan's end too, but after the third time that he just doesn't answer you with words but just a cold stare you just let it go. Maybe that's why Seungcheol and Jeonghan have been friends for so long - pieces of the same cloth.

The flight back is not that tricky but at the same time when Jeonghan drops you out at your door, you are ready for a 30 minutes shower and drop dead for a whole week. When you open the door you are glad that your roommate at least remembered to close and lock the door. Character development you think, maybe she is getting better, maybe you don't need to actually move into Jeonghan's house as a safety precaution. But something doesn't seem quite right - there is a new sofa in the living room, which isn't exactly a problem, really, your sofa kinda sucked. But when you look again, you understand what is missing.

No, she didn't, she would not be that crazy. You refuse to believe that. You left all your luggage in the middle of the living room and ran to your bed, maybe she put the side table there, of course, maybe she just moved because the new sofa seems bigger. But there is nothing that resembles the side table in your room, so you try again - her room now, still nothing.

You send a message.

You try to call.

So you try the next best thing - call Jeonghan so he can calm you down. He doesn't pick up.  You sit on the floor, right beside your luggage, and you refuse to sit down on that sofa, it is pretty it seems comfortable but now is the object that you hate the most. You would prefer, I don't know, to take part in a scientific experiment that might fuck up your brain function than sit down on that thing.

The concept of time and space is a funny thing you think when you lose count of how many minutes or hours you have been staring at the door, it has been probably a long time. Until your roommate opens the door with a big guy by her side, great, all that you needed was an audience for your lash out.

"Oh," she says, big guy with his big hands on her hips and he knows he is not getting laid today, because he sees you and he gets so upright he seems like a fucking power pole, "I didn't know you would be back today."

"Laurel, darling, where is my side table?" You ask without beating around the bush.

"Oh right," she says letting her keys on the counter without fucking locking the door you have never been closer to a have a fucking stroke, you can feel your blood pressure rising, "the sofa was a bit bigger, you know I told you I was thinking about changing and this was on discount, but the table didn't really had a place in the room anymore so I put on marketplace a cute girl come up to pick in the same day, great right?"

You blink once, twice, and the words don't even come, you are so astonished that you are left speechless. Maybe you could get over the unsaid desire of getting murdered by a serial killer, and maybe you could get over the leftover food on the counter, and you could even get over the whole singing in the shower when you are fucking tone-deaf really.

But that. That was one thing you could never get over.

"Are you fucking insane? Are you fucking crazy?" You ask, the big guy taking a step back, "Or do you just have fun being the most self-centered bitch in this part of the country?"

"What the fuck?" She says, and oh god, you want to jump on her bones, you want to leave this woman bald.

"Did you ask Laurel?" You ask again, remaining sitting on the floor because if you pick yourself up you are probably no longer be a first-time offender. "Did you ever think about asking if you could sell, give or even create a fucking bonfire with the wood of my deceased auntie's side table? Did you fucking asked?"

"Oh I didn't know," she says simply. You feel the tears streaming down your face and you don't actually know if it is because of sadness or anger.

"So funny Laurel because I don't even fucking know how you function like a human being because your brain is so fucking empty of common sense really," you bristled, finally getting up and picking up your big backup, "Look I don't know how I don't care really, it is up to you, but you get my table back in perfect state, and you will pay this month rent fully because I am not living with you I would prefer Satan as my roommate really, and you may as well find another roommate because I will not move a muscle to put someone inside this apartment," You say moving past Laurel and the crazy big guy, "and by the way Laurel? I would fucking lock the door today you don't really think about how many insane people leave in this world."

You say finally get out of the apartment.

You don't really stop walking because you are afraid you will just fall on the ground, crying in the middle of the street in the fetal position, not really a pretty picture. You know Jeonghan's house is not really far, a twenty minute walk. You wish you had an epiphany when you see yourself at his door, a moment to say 'wow why am I here?'. But you know yourself enough to know why, you know Jeonghan enough to know why you are at his door.

You know Jeonghan will open the door for you, and you hope deep down that he will hunt Laurel-the-sattan-spit-roommate down.

When Jeonghan opens the door, he looks puzzled, his face shows that he is trying to understand what is happening. You are sure he was ready to say that he didn't order something and to check on his neighbor.

"What happened?" Jeonghan asks when he sees you on his door instead of a lost delivery guy.

"Laurel," you say, and before having the chance to say anything else, you already feel the pain, you don't want to cry but you end up doing that nonetheless. You even hiccup once or twice before you feel Jeonghan's arms against you, enveloping you, making you feel safe.

"What did she do?" Jeonghan tries again, one of his hands still around you, while the other cradles your head, his hand softly stroking your head.

"She sold my side table," you say, still hiccuping your way through the sentence and you feel so fucking dumb, crying in Jeonghan's arms, and you feel Jeonghan's body goes completely rigid before he holds your face in his hands and you almost flinch because you cannot face that man in this state, and second, his hands are cold.

"She sold your side table?" He asks and you just nod, it is the only thing you can do, "The side table?" He tries again just to receive the same reaction, his hands wrap around you, but this time he hugs you tighter, your head smashed against his chest and somehow you find a resemblance of comfort.

Jeonghan takes you to the kitchen, and when you feel his arms release you, you just sink to the ground, your back to the cabinets. Jeonghan hands you a cup of water, and hugs you again, his hands rubbing your back like you are some kind of a toddler, and that alone makes you sniff even more. That motion alone takes you back to your college days when you went back home to your auntie's funeral - Jeonghan drove the whole way, and the only sound inside the car was you crying. Back then you didn't know that Jeonghan lost an important exam so he could drive you back home, later when he was pilled with an ungodly amount of work and told you he needed to do an extra project so he didn't fluke his class you cried all over again - part of it because you felt guilty, part of it was because it was Jeonghan, and you could count on him for anything.

And here he was, years later taking care of you again. You never doubt he would, that alone - the certainty that Jeonghan is in your life should scare you, but it never did. Not now, and not even back in college when Seungcheol joked about every time a new girl showed up alongside Jeonghan. Somehow you knew that Jeonghan would be there if you needed him, if you ever shouted that man would run leaps. The thing was, Jeonghan never told you anything remotely close to make you believe that, he never promised you anything, but Jeonghan actions always reassured you that no matter what, he would be there if you needed him the most.

You think about it how - weirdly - you were never in that position, how you never once was that person to Jeonghan, the person that reassure Jeonghan or be someone he could lean on. There is a deep down desire that you don't quite acknowledge over the years - that you want to be someone important to Jeonghan. Someone as important as Jeonghan is to you.

When you feel you can finally breathe you get out of Jeonghan's hold to go to the bathroom, in a way searching a way to escape your own feelings and thoughts, pretending you just need to wash your face. When you return to the kitchen, Jeonghan is in the same place, sitting on the floor staring at his own hands. Now, calmer, you take the whole scene of the kitchen; the single glass of wine on the counter, the open bottle, Jeonghan's cellphone, and his notebook.

“Were you drinking?” You ask after a while, sitting on his sides and copying his positions - legs stretched and back flushed against the cabinets. The hiccups are still there but they’re less frequent now, and you can finally breathe on your own.

“Yeah I was,” Jeonghan says, stretching his legs and looking at his feet cladded with old socks.

Jeonghan thinks about the minutes before you arrived, how he was just scrolling on his phone and drinking alone because his mood was so dreadful that he didn't want to make anyone suffer in his company. The only person he would subject to a vent session was Seungcheol, so drinking alone was the only answer. The truth is plain and simple really - Jeonghan has been feeling miserable for quite some time now, mainly because even though it pays extremely well his job sucks. He works for and with shitty people, but it pays well, so that should be enough - why it isn't? But all of that seems so fucking small against the feeling of you losing the last physical thing of someone you loved, someone who was so important to you.

“Why were you drinking alone Jeonghan?” You ask, giving his thigh little taps but still looking ahead - you see yourself in the mirror, you are so swollen you can't face the man like that.

“I,” Jeonghan ponders, thinking about if it is the right time to just go on a tangent about how he works sucks, how his best friend isn't talking to him, and how he wants to go back to his high schooler self and just start everything over, even if he fucks everything over is way better than this gray area that he is stuck on. “We can talk about me another time,”

“Just," You breathe deeply, your head almost knocking against the counter door, "do it for me then,” you tell him softly, almost pleading, “tell me so I can take my mind off this shit.”

“I think,” Jeonghan says, “no, scratch that,” he laughs dryly, “I am sure that I am fucking miserable,” he looks at you waiting for your reaction, “and I’ve been miserable for a while, I just fucking hate everything,”

“Han-” you try to say, and you almost feel like you don't have tears anymore, but if you could physically cry you would.

“I am not depressed, don’t worry, I just,” he trails off, “I hate that fucking job and if I have to spend another year there I would probably kill a rich guy, I have a few investments, and I have savings, and I-”

“You should buy the house,” You blurt out, remembering Jeonghan's eyes looking at the pictures of the house.

“What?” Jeonghan says almost choking on nothing.

“You should buy the house, just give me one room and I will pay rent, we can share utilities and food, and then you can quit,” you declared like it was something people just do on a whim, like you are not even having a stroke just thinking about the process of ending your lease contract, but the sky can open you are not sharing another day in that apartment.

“Not a great deal when I have a fucking loan on my name,” Jeonghan bemused, almost laughing at your non-sense.

“Just don’t tell the bank,” you shrug.

“Well,” Jeonghan says, almost like he is trying to assess the situation, see how everything could plan out from different angles.

“Come on, tell me,” You say finally caving into your curiosity, poking Jeonghan with your elbow.

“Tell you what?” Jeonghan asks but you can feel the playful tone in his voice, almost a childlike wonder of being caught doing something he shouldn't do.

“What is the plan?” You whisper - you don't know why but this whole thing seems like a secret, like something Jeonghan doesn't want to see the light of day yet, something he has been keeping under wraps.

“What plan?”

“I know you Jeonghan," You say finally looking at him, a small smile still stretched across his face, "I have known you for quite a while, come on, don’t underestimate me,”

“What are you talking about?” Jeonghan says playing the fool but the smile is still there, making you probe a little bit more.

“I know you, you would never think about quitting without a black plan besides having a few savings and weird investments, tell me,” You almost pleaded, turning your body to him, your hands on his thighs supporting your own weight on him. And you know you need to bring out the big guns - the begging eyes, almost laughing at yourself.

“Fuck,” Jeonghan laughs at you, his head tilting back and all, like you are the most amusing creature ever.

“Come on,” you urge, using your hands on his leg to almost shake him.

“It is not a plan, it is a desire,” he begins, “I’m thinking about sitting down and doing a few design classes, it can be online but,”

“No-” You say surprised, your smile big across your face because you know where this is going.

“Maybe,” he says still leaning on the counter, eyes closed and that infuriating smile still on.

“You can totally do it,” you tell him almost jumping on your place.

“It is not a plan yet,” he explains, in a vain attempt to make you tone down your excitement, but every time he looks at you he thinks he can give you that, soothe your pain with his dreams and hopes that won't really get out of paper. At least today he can do that for you.

“I can help you,” you say, finally changing positions and sitting almost by his feet, facing him, Jeonghan's hand on your ankle.

“How can you help me?” He asks you, squeezing your ankle and you pretend you are going to kick him, but he just holds your ankle and puts it on his lap.

“We can do it,” you say completely seriously because you truly believe he can do it, achieving his teenage dream job. “You know me, I am an army general, I have discipline, and I love a good worksheet, I am an editor,"

“What you being an editor has to do with it?” Jeonghan says while he tickles your feet, making you almost jerk.

"Stop that," you say using your other to nudge him, "I did a few children's books mind you,” you say, using your free hand to pinch Jeonghan's feet in the form of a threat, “I know how to promote things, I know how to deal with due dates and with manufacturers, you just need to sit down after lunch watch your boring ass class like a college student and hand your resignation letter,”

“It is not something that will actually work and be profitable,” Jeonghan huffs.

“Jeonghan, be honest with me,” you say, this time in a more serious tone.

“Okay,” He says, hands leaving your feet and closing together on his stomach.

“Would you ever take that leap with you couldn’t live till 90 years old with the money you have on the back?” You joke, breaking him in half, his laughter resonating in the kitchen.

“No?” He jokes back.

“We are doing it,” you say like his opinion in his own laugh and plans don't actually matter that much, but Jeonghan just smiles back at you - sometimes, he thinks about how you are the only one who can actually match his insanity, the only one that goes with his plan, or come up with even weird ones.

And Jeonghan knows he is fucked, because every time he thinks he can’t love you more you show him that love grows and expands beyond borders. Lately, Jeonghan favorite song is My Love Mine All Mine, and when he looks at you, in his kitchen, face still swollen and red from crying Mitski sings in his ear - Nothing in the world belongs to me But my love, mine, all mine Nothing in the world is mine for free But my love, mine, all mine, all mine. It resonates with him, the fact that his love for you is his to carry. And this alone makes Jeonghan happy in a weird way, because he knows how much love you deserve, and he is happy that he is the one that loves you, and he loves you for free.

Even though Jeonghan knows you don’t love him like he does love you he thinks about how you are the only person that is always there for him. Everyone that he knows would make Jeonghan just let it go. Why the fuck he would build a business around children’s toys? Why would he resign and leave a great career that gives enough money and intel to just go around and draw a few rabbits and frogs on a page? Just because of joy? Jeonghan always knew that joy alone could not make you survive on this earth.

But yet you were doing just that. Telling him to drop everything and just try to be happy. Right now Jeonghan could drop on his knee and ask you to marry him if you weren’t legally married and if he wasn’t a fucking coward. Sometimes he hates himself for that, the way he holds onto something he knows it is not quite enough but it is the only thing he can have.

Jeonghan thinks about- everything really, but mostly how joyful you are in your own way. How you would buy sweet treats just for the sake of it, how you had every single first copy of the books you worked on even if they were beaten in the process and almost unreadable. He thinks about the first time you showed up on his door, a big book in hands and a smile across your face, buzzing full of pride because it was your first fucking book and your boss give you one in the very first batch - back then you were just the one that did the toughest job, reviewing everything.

Jeonghan knows he loves you, he knows for quite a while.

Jeonghan knew before the first girlfriend dumped him because he was jealous of you. When his third girlfriend asked him if he liked you he couldn’t even lie, when his fifth girlfriend broke up and for the fifth time, the reason was you he just stopped trying dates altogether.

Jeonghan doesn't remember much of the marriage itself, he remembers bits and pieces of an Elton John in a 70's costume and how the chapel was way hotter, making Jeonghan's armpits wet, not a great look for a groom. But he remembers everything before that - in a less hazed lens. He remembers telling you in the hotel bar how he loved you for quite a while now, and how you looked so shocked - telling him he should quit lying. He swore on his first dog's grave, weirdly that made you believe him. He told you how he hated Mark - your college boyfriend that literature guy who gave you poems that you still keep as presents, he remembers you saying how you would keep every post-it note if Jeonghan wrote them in the future. It was a promise, you said holding your pinkie finger out for him. He remembers buying you the ring, you outside the store because he knew you would think that the chosen ring was too much, too big, too expensive, any ring will do it you told him before letting him inside, but he couldn't do it, he could only choose the prettiest ring for the prettiest girl. 

Jeonghan remembers his vow, promising he would take care of you, that he would write love letters for the rest of his life on every special date because you hated presents. And Jeonghan remembers how you two kissed in the chapel, on the uber back to the hotel, in the hotel room - more than you should have, because now it is the only thing he can think about it and you don't fuck remember. Jeonghan thought about running, about changing cities and even country - investments were pretty much the same everywhere in the world really. But the reality was that even if he moved, his love was still his to keep, and he would do that heartedly. He was a coward, but he still had his pride, and if that was the price to pay, then, be It.

“Hey, come here,” He says, finally lifting himself off the ground.

“What?” You ask, looking at him still sitting on the floor.

“Come here,” He says again, giving his hands so you can get up.

“What? You are weird what is going on,” you say finally getting up on your feet.

“Come here,” Jeonghan says and before you approach him his arms are already by your side, enveloping you in a thigh hug. “Thank you,” he says softly, “thank you for everything really,”

“Are you drunk Yoon Jeonghan?” you ask, your own voice muffled by the tight embrace.

“No,” Jeonghan laughs, and you can feel his whole body move, “I’m serious, thank you for being there for me even when you have shit on your own to deal with,” He says, his chin on top of your head, “and thank you for not thinking I am a commitment phobic asshole.”

“You are still on that? I told you I never saw you like that stop being dumb."

“I know, I am just-” Jeonghan doesn't finish his sentence, his arms still around you, his heart beating by your ear.

“Look you are drunk, at least there is nothing much we can fuck up being drunk together after getting married in Vegas," you say and Jeonghan feels a pang, almost like when he stubs his little finger on the corner of random furniture, but he doesn't say anything, "give me a sip of your wine you asshole,” you say getting free of his embrace and holding the bottle of wine

“Come on! Don’t drink it straight from the bottle, there is a glass right there!” Jeonghan protested.

“Come on Yoon Jeonghan, I know you, I know you since you didn’t have enough cups in your first kitchen, don't play the proper guy with me,” you say like basic manners don't exist, and sitting on his counter.

“I grow up I am an adult now,” Jeonghan says, but he doesn't really move a muscle to pick another glass of wine for you, he thinks it is his biggest flaw - the fact that you can walk over him countless times and Yoon Jeonghan will just let you do whatever you want even if he pretends that it is against his will.

“Oh, totally,” You look at him, and even though the phrase itself has a bite to it your voice is honest, “Not to go back to sappy times, but you really did Hannie, you are really growing so much, and I am so proud of you,”

"Shhhh-” Jeonghan murmurs trying to shut you up and you know it is mainly because he is so fucking shy that you almost laugh.

“By the way,” You say taking another sip from the bottle. “I’m so moving in with you and I can even deal with only one room if you don’t sell any of my stuff.”

“Shut up,” Jeonghan says kissing the top of your head, “you can have the whole house, just don’t set it on fire.”

Ultimately, that actually happens.

You actually move with Jeonghan into his dream house. The house is 98% bare, without the furniture of the last owner besides the utilities. But a) it is better than living with your satan-spit roommate, b) Jeonghan has been sleeping on his own couch for over two weeks now because even though you say it is okay you can't spend that time in your own apartment he refuses to let you near Laurel.

But somehow, Jeonghan and you make a home out of the new house. You take the bookshelves on the left, all the books you edited in your lifetime on a special shelf right in your point of view. Jeonghan takes the bookshelves on the right, a lot of the books you edited and gifted him are scattered across it because he doesn’t really care about arranging his shelves in a particular order.

Every time Jeonghan sees a nice piece of furniture he sends you a picture of it, and you two chat about if it fits the room, and the colors would clash. In a weird way your collection of cups and mugs triples the size, indeed you are engrossed with buying new ones, but the thing is - you always pick two of them now. Jeonghan’s favorite is a weird bunny mug that you never actually use because it ears always make drinking anything impractical.

You two also build a weirdly oiled routine. You two eat breakfast together, Jeonghan wakes up early and when he is just arriving for his morning run you are already scrabbling eggs. When Jeonghan is ready for work you are ready for your own run. When Jeonghan arrives from work you still have one hour to go, so in the end he is the one to always cook dinner. After you two share the dishes and eat something sweet as the dessert the kitchen counter - previously used as a dinner table, now acts an officer table.

While Jeonghan looks up some designer classes, you search manufacturers. When he draws a cute rabbit girl that he named Ttoram, you try to understand how a business works, how you file taxes for it? Sometimes Jeonghan does the dirty work himself after he finishes a new version so you get your pink glittery pen and write in post-it what you think about the new product; ‘what is this material arrow-drawing pointing to a specific part of a squish toy’, ‘her head seems big are you sure she won't flop head first in someone’s bed?’, ‘are you sure? I think lamps are quite expensive.

The house gets filled with new art supplies, sometimes Jeonghan orders a bunch of them online, and sometimes you are the one that brings back a single pen or a new colored pencil that you pick up in arts stories every time you go to a meeting. The house is filled with paper and drawings, your favorite ones is always the first drafts - the ones that Jeonghan does on the non-quality paper, the ones that he does on pieces of paper, the ones that look less refined and to you are filled with children-like joy.

Another curious thing is how somehow you and Jeonghan seemed very addicted to post-it. Besides the practical use in the drawing drafts because Jeonghan was an old soul who couldn’t do his work on an Ipad like a normal human being in this day and age, you also used to communicate - ‘please buy eggs!’ you wrote and left on the kitchen door, ‘already set a reminder on my phone so i don’t forget to stop at the market!’ jeonghan replied. “Didn’t see u before I left :( don’t forget to take breaks” he wrote, somehow the post-it ended up in your office, and you glued it on the computer screen beside one green post-it with a frog with a raincoat on.

Every time the fridge was out of space for new ones you took them off one by one, with a smile on your face, and kept them in a box, safely stored. You always noticed one or two missing but you always thought the wind knocked them out and Jeonghan, that traitor, threw them in the garbage. In short, everything stayed the same with a daily dose of domestic life. The problem was - that it didn’t stay the same for very long.

And as hard as it was to admit, it was your fault.

There was no way around it.

It weirdly began every time you saw Jeonghan around the stove. The fact that Jeonghan was beautiful-handsome-pretty was not news to you. You, and every human being that laid eyes on him, always reached the point where you acknowledged how pretty Jeonghan was. In college it was a fucking nightmare, guys and girls banging on his dorm room when you two were watching a movie just because they thought Jeonghan was alone - the fact that he didn’t have a roommate because he bribed someone (one of the most Jeonghan acts that you ever witnessed, but that was beside the point - really) only added to the fact that 87% of his course thought he was down to bang anytime. The truth was that you always knew that Jeonghan was someone objectively good-looking, but there was a catch, even though Jeonghan was beautiful you didn’t really feel attracted to him and he knew that. Countless times you told him he was too pretty for his own good along with the lines that he wasn’t your type, ‘what the fuck that supposed to mean’ he answered the first time you said that, back in high school. With time it turned out to be your standard answer to every girl that was attracted to him and wanted a shot with him but somehow thought he was your boyfriend.

You know that Jeonghan is good-looking, and you know that for fucking years so why are you going a little insane every time you get in the kitchen and the man is cutting some onions? Truly it happens in the weirdest hours, out of nowhere, your brain reminds you how hot Jeonghan is - and that is even scarier because you knew that the man was handsome, but hot? That’s a new development. Once he arrived from his morning run, his hair a little damp, sweat dripping down his neck, and only with a thigh shirt because he already removed his go-to wind-breaker and you almost collapsed on the kitchen floor. That alone was mind-blowing.

The horrors begin when you just couldn’t deal with his touch without your mind going to the fucking gutter. When he touched your hips to make your move because he wanted to open a drawer, or when he dropped down on the sofa without leaving space between your bodies, his hand tapping your thigh. Out of nowhere, you are combusting because his hand feels hot against your skin, goosebumps appearing across your skin Jeonghan asks you if you are cold. And the fact that Jeonghan is touching you isn't necessarily super weird, he always did that, but somehow you feel that his touches changed and you can't quite pinpoint how besides the fact that you are reacting differently.

It doesn't really help your case that Jeonghan develops a weird habit of wrapping his arm around your neck. It happens everywhere, even in public and every time you can feel yourself grow a little hotter. You were supposed to pay attention to Minghao’s new paintings, a designer slash illustrator slash painter whom you worked with for a few book covers, and somehow in the middle of the opening of his new exposition, you can’t even think about the impasto on his oil paintings because Jeonghan hands feels heavy on your neck, his fingers touching the lateral of it almost rubbing. Every time you take a step to try to see the paintings up close Jeonghan doesn’t let you leave his hold, his body close enough to be pressed against your back, half of your back feeling hot because of his presence, half of it feeling cold because of his absence.

“Hao!” You say when you finally see the man of the hour, black hair on black coats, his hands behind his back looking around all the people that came just to appreciate his work.

“Hey,” He says opening his arms for you.

“Congratulations,” you say feeling the arms of Minghao around your back, your body though prefer to pay attention to the weight of Jeonghan’s eyes on you, “everything is mind blowing,” you say to the man - his hands still on your body, yours on his shoulder, until you hear Jeonghan clearing his throat in order to get you to notice his existence, and you almost laugh, “Hao this is Jeonghan, Jeonghan this is Minghao.”

“Great job man,” Jeonghan says in a weird tone, giving Minghao two little pats on the back and taking a step by your side, his hand on your waist.

“Thank you,” Minghao says politely, like he always does, “It is a pleasure to meet you, you are in the book industry too?” Minghao asks with his hands in his pocket,

“No,” Jeonghan almost scoffs, him? and books? God forbid, “I work with investment these type of things,”

“Oh, so you are not in the art business then,” Minghao acknowledges and you know his interest peaked even though you don't know why, maybe because you know Jeonghan so well you don't have much to unfold, while Minghao just seems weirded out by the fact that you have a Wall Street dude by your side.

“Oh Hao you always flatter me when you include me in the art business,” you say jokingly, reminiscing one of the many conversations you had with Minghao over a bottle of wine.

“I told you," a sly smile across his face, "books are a matter of passion.”

“You did,” you say somewhat reminiscing of the talk you two had back then. It was after calling him up for his second cover, after a meeting where he made you go through the book's motifs and ideas so he could have a feeling of what he should focus on.

“You should come to the after party,” Minghao says, “we could catch up,”

“Yeah I don’t think we can,” Jeonghan says while he checks his watch, he knows the question wasn't directed to him, he isn't stupid and he has two eyes, but he also is a stubborn motherfucker and now he just wants to ruin Minghao's night, and he is not about to Banksy this place up with shredded art pieces - because he is afraid his bank account can't take the lawsuit. “I have a work meeting tomorrow morning” Jeonghan reminds you, his fingers still on your waist.

“Still,” Minghao says, looking puzzled by you two, “you can stay right?”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” you say sorry “Han is driving us back so-”

“Is your phone number still the same?” Minghao asks without dropping a beat, and Jeonghan can give him that, he doesn't know Minghao but the guy just doesn't quit - he knows a stubborn guy when he sees one.

“Yeah, I didn’t change, but if you need you can e-mail me and-” You say before someone calls Minghao, it is his opening after all, a guy in the suit makes a gesture to him when the three of you look to see who was the owner of the voice.

“Sorry, I have to go, but I will call you," He says before giving you a kiss on the cheeks and walking to the guy who just called him.

Jeonghan snorts, really, what was that? He shouldn't find it so funny but it is. He takes a step back, his hands leaving you, while he looks at the painting. You know he is just pretending to analyze everything.

“What?” You ask him - missing his hand on your waist, on your neck, missing his presence around you.

“Nothing,” he says shaking his head, he is biting back a smile - laughter really, and you want to know what it is so funny, you are curious about what is going on in his head.

“It can’t be nothing come on,” you press on, your hand on his shoulder in a way to get some sort of touch from him, to regain some sort of proximity.

“Just-” Jeonghan stops, in front of another painting, his hand going back to your waist, and at the same time you think you can finally breathe again, your breath feels trapped in your throat, making you swallow on nothing, “You didn’t tell me it was an opening night to your ex-fling," he says. Eyes almost tinkling under the light and you know where this is going.

“Hao isn’t my ex fling what are you talking about?” You pretend, trying to get out of this situation because you know somehow Jeonghan will pry on, and he knows how to push your buttons enough just so you can spill everything he wants to know.

“Not fling then," Jeonghan says, hand still on your waist when he starts walking around the gallery with you by his side, until another painting that he really doesn't really care about, "an one night stand.”

“He is a friend," almost rolling your eyes at him, "I told you, I know him because of work,”

“So you are telling me you guys didn’t fuck?” And even though his words my seem harsh his tone is still light - he was truly a jerk but why are you smiling at him?

“Jeonghan, what the fuck?” You yelped, making Jeonghan's sly smile appear again.

“What?” He asks eyes still on you when you pretend to pay attention to the orange painting in front of you.

“Keep your voice low,” you mouthed, “we didn’t fuck,” you tell him again, and it was the truth, but somehow Jeonghan knew how to read between your words.

“Well,” he began, still looking at you even when he tilted his head to the side, a sly smile still on his face like he could see through you like you couldn't keep anything under wraps, and you could feel the goosebumps on the nape of your neck, your whole body tingling, “I am pretty sure it wasn’t for lacking trying on his part.”

“It would be too messy,” you finally blurt it out.

“Ah of course," Jeonghan laughs again and it almost sounds bitter to you, "so he did try, it was after or before saying the book and passion line?”

“After,” you say, your time to laugh, even though you feel the heat on your skin, a crazy addition to new feels because you are not one to actually feel shy around Jeonghan.

“And you laid him down too gently,” he acknowledges, eyes moving through the room again. You follow his gaze, seeing Minghao watching the both of you across the room, you just greet him with a smile.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You ask him, pressing your body on his sides until his arms are back on you.

“Well," Jeonghan breathes, his eyes still rummaging around the room, "I know you can break a guy's heart but apparently you lost your touch with that one because he is still down to fuck.”

“Jeonghan!” You gasped, “No he isn’t you are seeing things like you always do.” You tell him, Jeonghan had this weird superpower that he tuned in college - he could tell a guy was somehow interested in you from miles away, the first few times you actually made a bet on it; fifteen dollars, to pay him for a meal, to go with him to a frat party that his friend Soonyoung was hosting. After the fifth time, you just learned that was better to trust his judgment on it.

“Oh yeah, it truly takes a mind reader to see a guy ogling you across the room and telling you to show up at the after party even tho you have a guy on your arm," Jeonghan almost scoffs, then he leans down, his mouth close to your ear, "truly, his intention was indeed to talk about the impasto or the lighting or the shadow of his hard-on,”

“Jeonghan” you accuse again slapping his arm playfully, laughing at his antics “If I trusted you my ego would be in the clouds because every walking human being apparently wants to fuck me according to you.”

“Not everyone but a great part of it, sure." He deadpans.

“Sure, apparently you are the only exception who else?”

“I’m not,” Jeonghan deadpans again, just shrugging. Because it is not actually something he tried to hide over the years, it is nothing something that he is ashamed of either. And he is pretty sure it is something you already know since college so he doesn't have to lie about it. Jeonghan might be a coward, but he isn't really a liar.

“What?”

“I tried to get in your pants my whole high school years," He says, his eyes still on the painting, or everything that catches his attention, his eyes are everywhere really but on you. "I just gave up after the few first months of college”

“What the hell?” You try again. Everything feels kind of abnormal in your head. The way that Jeonghan says those words - like he is saying that you two should buy soap the next time you both go do groceries, it freaks you out. How can he be so normal about all of that?

And how could you be so clueless? Everything shifts in your brain - like the earth just changed its axes. He never told you anything closer to this, you are sure of it. You never suspected that Jeonghan liked you back then, or scratch that, that he tried to get in your pants. It seems something so unreal that you are having a hard time wrapping your mind around it - around the idea of a teenager and younger Jeonghan wanting something from you that you never really saw happening.

“What the hell what?” Jeonghan stopped dead on his track, finally looking at you, “You didn’t know that?”

“Of course not,” you say exasperated.

“Oh, I thought you were laying me down gently too,” he added, in the most neutral tone possible, making your head spin a little.

“No, I had no idea,” and it is true. You remember everyone from college who thought you and Jeonghan were a couple back then, everyone who found it weird when you two answered that you were just friends. You remember Seokmin, and you think about Seungcheol's words in Vegas and everything is hazed, a little out of focus. “Why did you give up tho?” You ask him.

“I just,” he says still looking forward and avoiding your eyes like the plague, “I mean, besides the fact that you got into he is not my type phase I would never kiss that man, the fact that I tried for four years and it didn’t happen led me to believe that never would, so...”

“I needed to make clear to every girl that was falling and tripping over you that I was not your girlfriend, they were pretty sure we were high school sweethearts back then”

“I think everyone we know somehow ends up thinking we are in a relationship,” he says, “I mean, clearly not goth impasto guy because that would be crazy, hitting on a woman with her husband on her side but”

“You need to pick up your husband's game,” you say kidding, while walking around the gallery with him, “I was indeed mistaken to be a single woman today.”

“I should have bought a bigger ring,” Jeonghan groaned, making you laugh, weirdly you still have the big ring on your finger.

“That’s not the answer,” you groaned because the man truly had this weird obsession with this ring and big rocks. You could tell him over and over again how you didn’t care about the ring or the rocks and he still found a way to make sure you were wearing the ring.

“And what is? If I try to be more territorial within the touch department we would be in jail for public indecency,” Jeonghan says low on your ear, his voice mischievously, while his hand presses on your hips, “Should we just go to jail?” Jeonghan asks, his hands trying to go lower heading towards your butt.

“Jeonghan, don’t test me,” you say seriously, your hand holding his and bringing up on your body. Why the fuck didn’t Jeonghan behave like a proper human being? Why your heart is racing against your ribcage? Why you are enjoying this whole thing?

The whole night you can feel Jeonghan’s hand on you in some way, or on your lower back, your neck, fingers on your shoulder, making his presence known somehow. And every time you think you are starting to understand what happened - what Jeonghan said, what that meant, he touches you again and everything gets a bit hazed, taking you to the start again.  Should you read into everything that he said to you? Would you be able to deal with it?

Those questions are still going around your brain in the car back home. Home, that alone was something that didn't make sense either. The air in the car is so thick that you think you can't breathe, the fact that Jeonghan's hand is splayed against your thigh doesn't help with the issue. The curiosity gets the best of you - you want to know all the unsaid things, you want to get under his skin and discover everything Jeonghan even wanted.

He doesn't move his hand, he doesn't stroke your skin, his hand is just there. Again, a reminder of some sort, and you almost laugh - silly of him to think that his presence could go unnoticed by you. Jeonghan has always been there on your mind, and lately even more. It makes your mouth go dry. The feeling is back on the pit of your stomach again. What if? You ask yourself, what would have happened if Jeonghan said those things back then? Would the present be different? Would that have washed away all the curiosity about Jeonghan?

Arriving home you go straight to the sofa and plop down in the middle seat, taking your time to take off your high heels, you don’t know why but you still buy pairs with ankle ties - the bane of your existence when it is three hours later and you have a thigh dress on, maybe that’s why you think you hate those types of event, even though you had a great time, saw a few friends and enjoyed the night with Jeonghan, you always ended up tired with a few blisters on your feet. You can hear Jeonghan’s footsteps around the house while you massage your feet and try to ease the tension.

You turn your body so you can stretch your legs on the sofa, the pain on your calves is killing you. You don’t even turn when you feel Jeonghan entering the room, his perfume and the sound of his slippers are enough to make his presence known. It was always like that? Did Jeonghan's presence always engulf you? Did it always make you unable to focus on anything else? Did it always make you question your own sanity? He sits down on the sofa, in the same direction as you, his legs around yours, his front pressed on your back and you hold yourself back because you almost whimper when you feel your body melting against his.

“You’re tense,” Jeonghan says his voice low, his hands pressing the knots on your shoulders.

“I am always tense and stressed out,” you say, and it is the truth. Jeonghan doesn’t need to know that for the last few weeks the fact that he is the number one reason. You almost rub yourself against him, feeling a little bit crazy and hot all over - oh no.

“Hm,” Jeonghan acknowledges. When his fingers close around your neck you almost jump on your seat, his thumbs traveling across the knots of your spine, and you are not strong enough to not whimper this time, “there’s a lot of things you could do to distress.”

“Like what? A guided meditation?” You joke, trying to get away with it, trying to downplay every reaction of your body.

“Fuck those apps,” he mutters under his breath, he is so close you can feel his breath against your nape.

“Yeah right there,” You say when his thumb presses down in a particular knock on your back.

“This one?” You just nod, don’t trust yourself enough to utter a word that doesn’t sound like a humiliated noise. Since when did you turn into a mess in Jeonghan’s hand? But you just accept your fate, feeling how soft your body feels against his. “Can I open this?” Jeonghan asks, his voice so low you barely hear, but he is so close to you that your ears catch his question.

And you still don’t trust yourself, so you nod again. Jeonghan drops the zipper of your dress and takes his time to gather your hair in his hands, and taking them out of his way, letting your locks rest on your shoulder. His fingertips trails the collar of your dress again, and you can feel the goosebumps across your skin and you know Jeonghan can see them as well.

You can feel the way that Jeonghan’s fingertips travel down your spine as he opens the zipper of your dress. And you close your arms around your chest, in order to maintain the dress in place because you can feel how loose the fabric feels against your body after the zip is down. But apparently, Jeonghan is not even close to satisfied because his fingers are tugging the straps of your dress down your arms.

Jeonghan’s fingertips are still on your skin, stroking your arms when you feel his lips against your shoulder. Before you can think about anything your own body reacts before you, giving space so Jeonghan can continue kissing the column of your neck. Everything feels a little surreal, a blur, you can't quite grasp-

Then, your cellphone starts to ring bringing you back to reality.

“Don’t pick up,” Jeonghan tells you, almost like a whisper against your ear, his hands still around your waist - but then your phone rings again and again and reality comes crashing again and again.

And you want to say that you are ok with almost being undressed on Jeonghan’s lap, that it is ok the way his thighs cage you, that it is ok how his hands feel hot against your body and how his lips feel against your neck. But your phone rings again and it must be important so you stretch yourself and try to find your phone inside your bag by feel. When you finally can reach the phone dies, and you can feel Jeonghan’s smile across your skin - like he just won. But before you can drop the phone you feel it ringing again, and when you pick up the big font appears on the screen ‘seungcheol is the best’. You can feel Jeonghan’s hand freeze against your body, the way he just goes rigid.

“Don’t pick up,” He says again but now something is different - his voice is not low.

“It must be something important,” you reasoned, because it is true. You have been trying to get a hold of Seungcheol since before leaving Vegas and yet the man didn't answer you once.

“Just-” Jeonghan tries, and you can feel his squeezing your shoulders again, almost in a silent plea.

“I haven’t talked to him since Vegas, it must be something important,” You say, your own hands going to his in an effort to show him that you understand what he is trying to say.

“Are you truly doing this right now?” Jeonghan asks and when you don't answer him he already knows.

You look at him but Jeonghan just gets up and off the sofa and leaves the room, in the end, you choose to just pick up your phone and answer it with a low “Hey cheol,” so low that Seungcheol asks if you were sleeping.

Seungcheol tells you he wants to meet, to talk about things. And you say yes because why not? You pick yourself up and close your dress. Before going to your room you stop at Jeonghan's door and before you lose all the courage that you have in your body you knock on the door, nothing, and you try again just to hear the sound of the shower across the room when you glue your ear against the door.

When you lie on your bed you don't really can close your eyes. You feel restless, your mind wavering, and you can't stop thinking about Jeonghan.

What would that mean?

If you took that leap would Jeonghan be there if everything fell apart? A shiver runs down your spine because it is the first that the answer would be a no. You ask yourself why now. What made Jeonghan change?

And you can't even look back anymore - you can't even think about your friendship with Jeonghan without it being tinted, his words echoing in your brain, "I just gave up". You play the whole conversation back in your head, almost like an old VHS tape - rewinding and pressing play, trying to see everything in another angle, rewinding, asking yourself what that meant, rewinding, thinking back, rewinding and pressing play - unfolding all the touches, and the times Jeonghan's hand lingered on your body.

You rewind until the sleep gets the best of you when it is already bright outside.

You wake up to the sound of your phone, Seungcheol calling you because he will run a little late, of course, you say while he just laughs because it is so clear that you were sleeping. When you run down the stairs, almost falling on it because your brain isn't functioning yet, you don't find Jeonghan anywhere. When you look at the fridge and there are no new notes, your heart breaks a little.

The coffee that Seungcheol chooses is pretty, and not very crowded, and even though Seungcheol is late is not a big deal, you use the time to go over a few manuscripts and spreadsheets with a cup of coffee on your side. Or at least you try to, but the truth is that you send Jeonghan a few messages and every time your phone pings you need to check if he is the one answering you - it isn't.

When Seungcheol arrives, you see him first, still from afar, his hair is shorter now. You almost laugh because that is definitely not a Seungcheol's choice, nor a haircut. His hair screamed his fiancée's name.

"Hey stranger," he says sitting across from you.

"Hey yourself," you greet him back, almost laughing at how awkward this whole thing is. Seungcheol and you walking around eggshells. Neither you nor Seungcheol wants to start talking about the whole elephant in the room - Yoon Jeonghan.

You ask him about the wedding preparation, it is going nice he says, he was late because he needed one last fit on his suit. His mother nagged over and over about how he shouldn't wear a navy blue suit, his future wife nagged about how it couldn't be black because the whole vibe of the afternoon wedding was different from a night wedding.

"I'm just happy that you guys worked everything out," Seungcheol says after a while, sipping on his coffee.

"Cheol," You try your heart already tugging on your inside.

"No really," he smiles at you, the way he always does - with a fondness you can't quite handle, like after all those years he still sees you like the kid you once were. Someone who didn't really have hold of her life and in a way, after all those years you feel like that again. "I did a lot of thinking," Seungcheol chuckles, "I think that I always have been envious of Jeonghan in a way," he breathes loudly, almost trying to gather up courage, "here I was, with my wedding date set up and still having doubts about how I feel and if I should go on with it." Seungcheol scratches her head almost like he is ashamed to tell you the truth, "And there is my friend, right? I think that the thing I always admired about Jeonghan was how consistent he was, you know me, in that way, we are alike right? We see shine things and we run towards them, a new project, a thing we like, don't even say anything about the golf gear I swear to god," he says abruptly making you laugh, and it was true in that sense you and Seungcheol were very much the same. "But Jeonghan is consistent, that man's mind is a fucking rock," Seungcheol says like a jab and you can understand why, "and yet he is more sure about you than I am about my fiancée really. And he has been sure for years, I still don't know what made him make a move-, he didn't talk to me prior to that, but I am truly happy that you guys figured it out, it took you long enough."

"I don't even know what to say," you breathe, looking at Seungcheol. You can't blurt out the words - physically unable to tell him. You think about what you should say, you should tell him -'we are not together', 'we didn't figure it out'. You want to tell the truth, you want to come clean, but you just can't. "But yeah, he has always been there for me" you laugh a little soulless. It is not a lie either, but it is not the whole truth, Yoon Jeonghan has always been there for you, but now all the other pieces of the puzzle are coming together. "I think the only thing that hurt him was you going on and on about his commitment issues or whatever.

"It's-" Seungcheol breathes, "it wasn't like that. I mean, sure, he can't commit to anyone who isn't you," he shrugs, "I think it was back when you were going out with that lit kid right? god" Seungcheol laughs, shaking his head like he just found a memory in his treasure box, "Jeonghan was so jealous back then," Seungcheol continues, reminiscing,  "he would get furious every time that guy would give you a letter, a poem, anything really. I don't know how you didn't catch up on how much he hated that guy's gut if he dissed the poor kid."

"I just thought-" you stop to think about it, "I don't even know what I was thinking back then, but I never once thought it was because of jealousy, he was dating like 3 girls at the same time back then," you tell, felling the bittersweet taste on your mouth.

"Well," Seungcheol takes another sip, "you know Yoon Jeonghan, when he doesn't get what he wants he tends to fuck everything up and push himself to do shit just out of spite. His high school crush and love of his life found her first boyfriend, how do you think he would handle that? What he could do about that? Try to write poems better than Mark? He tried to believe they were all shitty, trying to forget you was the last thing he could do for himself, even that didn't actually work."

And you feel like you are about to go into overdrive.

It is one of your flaws really, you were never one who would react quickly - your brain always trying to assess and digest everything before being able to take a leap. The problem was that you needed to unpack more than ten years, to go through every file of your life with Jeonghan and try to find a new meaning, trying to find a clue, in search of something you don't know yet, but that could make you understand, or realize.

You spend the whole day feeling a weird taste in your mouth.

The thing is, you can't quite pinpoint what are you feeling, you can't really name it. It somehow resembles feeling betrayed, you think, that you have a cheating boyfriend and everyone knows his secret but nobody has the courage to tell you, and when you actually find out you are the last one to know.

You take your time walking around town and even figure out the longest route to Jeonghan's house.

Even that sounded weird rolling off your tongue.

You try again - picking random memories to try to see if you can find a hiding meaning somewhere, a clue, evidence of Jeonghan's feelings. A crush you could understand, something small like an affection with an expiration date you could understand. You could understand the curiosity that grew in the past month.

But Seungcheol's words didn't point to that, Seungcheol's words were actually pointing in the opposite direction of that.

And if you were being honest with yourself, that made you afraid.

“I talked with Seungcheol,” you blurt out when Jeonghan finally arrives.

“Yeah, we are not going there,” Jeonghan says seriously, without looking at you - avoiding you at every cost. It is a tell, a clue that he doesn't want to talk about it. You don't want either, if you could you would never go there again, but you need to, because living things like they are right now, messy and all over the place aren't working.

“Jeonghan,” you groan, “we need to talk about everything that happened in Vegas, his wedding is in a few weeks."

“I think you were there when he said I wasn't invited so I am not really following right now," Jeonghan says his voice stuffy because his head is inside the fridge in search of something, maybe he is just trying to not look at you.

"He told me you are not answering his calls," You tell him, and before Jeonghan says anything he just scoffs and closes the fridge door without taking anything out. He doesn't actually move, but he doesn't look at you either, his head is hanging off his shoulders, and you know Jeonghan so well that you know that nothing will make him move. You know you are not going to win, but yet you press it on, because you are tired of things being left unsaid, of Jeonghan bottling everything out and things ending up being your fault.

"Why are you being so fucking stubborn about this?" You ask watching Jeonghan just shake his head, "he is your best friend."

“Yeah like Seungcheol’s is flawless,” he bites back.

“Jeonghan this is not the point right now-" You start before he cuts you off.

“It is never the point right?” He asks you, finally looking at you, still holding his weight on the counter, "Is never the point, is never the right time, is never them it is always me fucking it up because it is Jeonghan he is not serious, he can take it, you guys can go on and on and god forbid if someone doesn't wanna take more bullshit from you."

“Come one don’t get angry with me,” you plead.

“Of course, right, I can't even get angry," Jeonghan says before he heads to walk out of the kitchen.

"Jeonghan," You almost beg making him stop and look at you, "we really need to talk about everything."

"Talk about everything or for you to be Seungcheol's spokesperson?" He says, and when you don't answer he completes, "Then no, we are not talking”

“Of course, because that will solve everything," you say almost groaning, "he is your best friend for god's sake, he still thinks we are in a somewhat relationship, he wants to talk to you, he feels guilty for being an asshole. He is sorry." You try almost stomping your feet at every word.

"Well, good for him," Jeonghan says like words don't have enough weight to make him care.

"Come on Jeonghan I'm trying here," you whine.

"Trying to do what exactly?" He asks, "Did you ever think about what actually happened since Vegas?" He says finally looking at you, and you feel even worse. He almost laughs when you don't answer. "Okay, I did, I spent every single second thinking about it and I am really fucking tired of thinking about it. I tried to put it through a different lens, I tried to put myself in other people's shoes, I tried to be reasonable and understand everyone, look I really did, and I did a great job understanding that you forgot the whole damn thing, of course, you can forget me telling you that I am head over hills for you sure, you can forget that you were the one who kissed me back then sure, of course it happens, I mean," Jeonghan scoffs, "I understand for years what is a few more months right?"

"Jeonghan-"

"No, let me finish this because somehow it will be my fault again so let me make everything clear," he says - back again looking at every corner around the kitchen but not laying an eye on you; "Seungcheol knows, he always knew about everything, he knows how many girlfriends gave me fucking ultimatum and I always choose you. He knows how many women broke up with me because they knew I was in love with you, sure, everyone in my fucking life knew but you - I understand that too sure," he stops, breathing loudly and you feel the lump around your throat way to thigh, "and he fucking knows that if I could I would've got over this sooner, so yeah, maybe I was too fucking sensitive when my friend act like I was a fucking coward who has commitment issues and would never do anything about it sure, it's my fault great, I can be responsible for that. I can take that sure, I can take Seungcheol, what I can't take is you playing dumb after last night, that I can't take it, and to be fair I don't want to, I don't have to, and you don't have a lot of excuses this time, I guess you remember right? And I think that time I made myself pretty clear so this time you must know right?"

You have been building your life around Jeonghan's for years. In a way, Jeonghan's life and yours were beautifully intricate, to the point that you weren't quite sure where one ended and one began. You think about how would your life be without Jeonghan's presence, and how would your future look like. And that scared the shit out of you.

"And that took you how many years Jeonghan?"

"Don't do that," he says and his voice feels almost small.

"Sure, I am sorry if I'm being fucking selfish right now, but you had your own time to think about everything, right? You have had years to come to your own terms? I'm freaking out here, do you think that's easy for me? Do you think it is easy to think about the aftermath if this goes wrong Jeonghan? Sure I understand that maybe that is your tipping point great, I understand that, but you are my friend and I don't fucking know how we will go on if we fuck everything up," you laugh, "I think we already passed that apparently."

"We didn't fuck it up," Jeonghan says, "Why can't you trust me for once?"

"I do," You say, and it is the truth, you trust Jeonghan with your life, "I do, I am just scared. You took your time to figure everything out, but every time I look back now I think about everything you didn't tell me,"

"I told you everything," Jeonghan says and you can almost feel his desperation, "I was sincere about everything,"

"Now you are just telling lies," you say laughing dryly.

"Sure I didn't tell you everything, but the things I haven't told you are small in comparison."

"The fact that you like me isn't small Jeonghan," you say, and it finally downs on you, that this - his feelings are a huge thing that you can't quite hide.

"What I am trying to say is-" Jeonghan says, finally taking steps and getting closer to you, "I will not go anywhere," you hear him - even though it feels like he is whispering, "even if we fuck up, even if this doesn't work out, I will not go anywhere, if that's what you are afraid of then you have nothing to be afraid. I won't go anywhere because that would kill me more than would hurt you, and even though everyone around me thinks I am a masochist I would prefer not to die."

"I would rather not hurt you," you say and you feel like you could cry, "I am sorry if I ever did."

"You did," Jeonghan says, taking your hand, and holding it firmly like that act alone can show you how serious he is, "but nothing I couldn't take, even If you hurt me again, I can take it, I will take it." 

Even if both of you don't want to, things stay a little weird between the two of you for some time. Like both of you are back to being so conscious of each other presence that it is just weird to jump right back at it, or, actually, take a step in another direction. But things fall back into place - more because of Jeonghan’s attitude than yours. He is the one that calls you for dinner, and he is the one that hugs you when you enter the kitchen.

He is the one that is trying to make things not weird. And you love him for it, you just love him, heatedly.

And the thing is, you always loved Jeonghan, but somehow, this kind of love and appreciation feels new and it is so scary, it makes you realize how everything is so fragile. But, at the same time - it makes you curious, it makes you wonder, it makes you act first just to see Jeonghan’s reaction.

Like when Jeonghan’s is whining about something and how he wants to quit his work so bad and you just hug him - almost melting against his back, placing your chin against his should and you can see Jeonghan freeze for a few seconds before he starts to pay attention on the food again.

Or when you start to watch a movie together and Jeonghan just melts in your lap, falling asleep while your hand goes through his hair. The next day when you whine about it he sweats to God he didn't sleep, he was paying attention to the movie, if you want to he can say the whole movie plot and all.

When the first Ttoram prototype arrives you are so excited that when you both place the little bunny on the dinner table, when she flops down - face diving because her head is too big - you are so happy for him that you just hold his face and place a quick kiss on his lips. Jeonghan looking at you wide-eyed. You almost start to laugh before you mutter:

“I told you, her head is too big,” you say trying to place Ttoram upright again.

“It is her charm, her brain is so big that she is dumb,” He says his voice weirdly fond, hands on your body pulling you into him.

“Yoon Jeonghan,” You stare at him - that weird mischievous smile on his lips, “what is that supposed to mean?”

“You should be honored,” Jeonghan says, holding your face almost making you yelp because his hands are so freaking cold, “You are my muse after all.”

And you almost curse him. But the thing is Jeonghan is cute, so will let it pass.

The thing is most of the time you are giggling and kicking your feet at everything Jeonghan does - that crush is so weird because you used to be stronger than that, now you are just falling in all of his antics, and boy doesn't he love it.

He just says the weirdest things out of nowhere just so he can hear your laugh. He holds you every time he has a chance, just pulling you close to hug you. But his favorite part of this new thing is how movie night now is just the two of you starting a movie to just act like a horny teenager.

Jeonghan is always the one who initiates it in a way. Sometimes is just caressing your arm before you start kissing him and licking against his mouth. Sometimes he feels bold enough and places his hand under your hoodie. The details always change but he always ends up with a hard-on and feeling like his younger self.

And it is happening again, his cock is hard, and he can barely hear the movie that is playing on the tv because you are kissing him and he can feel himself melting against the bed, like his whole body is going limp.

It is stronger than him, really. He wants to stay calm and collected but before he knows it he is already a whimpering mess, fingers digging in on your waist, his hips moving on their own, searching for some kind of pressure.

It is such a weird feeling, feeling so boneless and yet, feeling like he is a string - being pulled thigh enough he is about to snap at any minute.

When you break the kiss Jeonghan almost whines but before he can say anything you are already kissing his jaw so he just breathes loudly - accepting everything you want to give him.

“Can I suck you off?” You ask low on Jeonghan’s ears and he almost drop dead right there, like a fucking high schooler, like a teenager who just cum on his pant and drop dead when see a woman naked. And that would be fucking humiliating. He waited for so long he can't just burst a fucking nut in his own pants.

Jeonghan wants to answer you, he wants to say yes and maybe even mutter a please and thank you but somehow his brain is not even working properly, he is beyond dumb. But his dick is hard against his pants and he cannot even think properly - his brain is working overcapacity right now to try to take everything in.

So he does the only thing he can do in the moment - he pulls you into a kiss, and it is messy but Jeonghan doesn’t really care, focusing on the way you taste against his tongue. Jeonghan feels your cold hand against his stomach and he almost jumps at the spot, but you just whimper against his mouth when he does the same thing.

Jeonghan thinks the two of you are beyond niceties - you just told him you want his dick in your mouth, so he lets his desires win, while one of his hands is holding your waist under your shirt, the other one he uses to grope your ass. He squeezes your ass and at the same time, he tries to get your body even closer. You end up with your leg over him, across his hips, Jeonghan with his last functioning neuron takes the chance to shove his hand under your shorts too.

“Han,” you say when you come up for air, hand still splayed across Jeonghan’s body. “Come on,” you try again whining.

“Hm?” Jeonghan questions, his eyes almost closed and his head bent.

“You don’t want to?” You ask, voice low, taking the time that he uses to think about an answer to trail your lips across his neck, sucking at his skin, “I really want to but if you don't that's okay?”

“Hm?” Jeonghan mumbles - for a second he has no idea what are you talking about, his mind focused on how you feel against his hands, the weight of your body against him, how every curve of your body is pressed against his, how you smell and you taste.

“Suck you off,” you say again against his neck, almost petulantly like Jeonghan isn't paying attention, and he really isn't, but you shouldn't blame a man.

“Fuck,” he says almost whimpering.

Jeonghan was never like this - in his life nor in bed. He was never a mess, not to this point. Jeonghan always pretended to be somewhat collected, holding the strings of his life tight enough he could make his own choices, but it was never like that when the topic was you. So when the feeling pools on his belly, a reaction to how your fingers feel against his throat, taking matters into your hands when you grab Jeonghan's chin and maneuver his face in an angle so you can have access to more of his skin.

Jeonghan thinks he can die like this - almost dry-humping your leg. But apparently, you have other plans, your hand tugging at his joggers. Jeonghan's only reaction is to lift his hips, trying to help. It doesn't help much, but it is enough for you to shove your hands under his underwear, making Jeonghan shiver. When your hand finally finds his dick he almost melts, the tip of your things trying to map out everything before you apply pressure on it. He moans softly before closing his eyes.

He wants to be patient and wants to take whatever you give him, but the truth is he can't quite hold back anymore. His hands left your body so he can get hold of your face, kissing you. "Want to see you," he tells you, using all his strength to take one of the straps of your pajamas down. Kissing your shoulders, trying to map your collarbones with his mouth.

When Jeonghan tries to move the strap down your arm you don't budge, shaking your head telling him no, "don't want to stop touching you," and Jeonghan almost short circuit when your hand wraps around him and give his dick a few tugs.

"I know baby," Jeonghan coos, almost delirious out of his mind, his hand holds your wrist and takes out of his cock and the way that you just whine makes him even more desperate. His whole body is limp, almost melting. Jeonghan thinks he might die if he doesn't get naked, but he is too entertained with the view of your boobs in his face.

He knows there is an easier way to do this but fuck it, he is not in his right mind. Instead of taking out your flimsy excuse of a pajama Jeonghan just shoves It down, tugging at the end of the fabric while he kisses your chest. The way that you hold his head is so delicate that makes Jeonghan feel weirdly treasured even if he is completely debauched lapping at your skin. And Jeonghan takes his time, appreciating every inch of your skin

He could spend hours like this, he thinks - almost melting against you, kissing your chest lazily. He drags his tongue across your skin until he can reach your nipple, his hands come up your body until he can grab your boob so he can angle just right before his mouth is back to your body. Jeonghan thinks he can die like that, it would be a good way to go - your fucking tits on his face, your body pressed on his, his hard-on against your thigh, everything feels dizzy. When you shove your chest on Jeonghan's face, holding his face against you, he just takes it because he is so down and so horny that taking it is the only thing he can do.

"Hannie," you call and Jeonghan really just has enough strength to look up at you, without his mouth leaving your chest, "Just let me-" you try to say without much control of your own situation.

It is not like you are in your right mind either. Jeonghan's hands feels warm on your skin, and he holds you so tight that you think about the aftermath of his grip - you should make a mental note to check for marks after this, and that alone makes you tremble. You can only think about how Jeonghan's body feels against yours, how his mouth is still on you, and you want to cry because it is just so good but not enough. You feel you might cry. Or worse, die.

You press Jeonghan down until his back is pressed down on the mattress. And God he is so pretty, it makes you almost feel delirious.

When you sit down on Jeonghan's hips he feels like he is almost dying. Everyone he ever wanted felting very pale in comparison when he lay his eyes on you - hair already a mess, lips red from kissing him, flimsy shirt pooling at your waist. Your hands sneak under his shirt, and he almost laughs, damn he must be looking so dumb right now - feeling and behaving like a fucking virgin while his crush is on his lap, taking her time with him. You lift Jeonghan's shirt, dragging your hands underneath it, almost whining and frustrated when the shirt doesn't stay around his neck. Cute - he thinks, when you pout Jeonghan realizes he said that out loud.

"Just take it off," you whine again, tugging at his shirt.

Jeonghan just nods, holding your hips for leverage until he is sitting upright, holding the back of his shirt and taking it off in record time, before Jeonghan lies down again he feels your hand on his chin, holding him so you can kiss him again. Damn, he is lucky. But before he can think another thought you are pushing him back on the bad again, his hand on your hips.

Your hands travel on his body, caressing him - making him feel so close to losing his mind it is almost ridiculous. When Jeonghan's feels your fingers graze his neck he feels almost delirious, when your hand palms his chest and your digits press against his nipples it Is his time to whine, he almost feels like it is just too much, maybe he is closer than a step away from coming in his pants.

One of your hands is splayed against Jeonghan's stomach when the other one tugs  the waistline of his pants, pulling the elastic band and letting it hit against Jeonghan's skin. You shuffle around his hips, sitting on his thighs now and Jeonghan is ready to complain when you tug on his pants again, this time actually getting the cloth to move and get it stopped by Jeonghan's hard-on.

"Baby," Jeonghan mumbles, "that's too much," he tries again, but apparently there is nothing he can say to make you stop - and in all honestly he doesn't want you to.

Jeonghan thinks he will die if he doesn’t get his dick free. Even though he doesn’t want to he takes the hand off your ass so he can take down his joggers, shoving his underwear down at the same time, his other hand still firm on your waist.

When your fingers close against Jeonghan’s shaft he almost sees stars. You give him a few experimental tugs. He feels so breathless, how is that even possible?

You almost scoff, looking at how even his dick is pretty - really, you should complain because it is so unfair. You press your finger on his slit, collecting the drop of precum, and the way that his dick twitch it makes your mouth water, but before you can even complete your thoughts Jeonghan’s hand is holding your face and bringing it down to another kiss.

If it was up to Jeonghan he would kiss you the whole night, but you had other ideas, using one hand to shove him until he is lying again when the other one is still on his dick. He is pretty sure he can feel your taste against your mouth but yet he feels parched. When you start to press kisses on his body, the only thing Jeonghan can do is take it.

Jeonghan thinks you want to wreck him. He feels you press your lips against his nipples, his hips buckling on its own, and you stroke his dick a little bit harder. Jeonghan can barely breathe, yet, without wasting a second you are doing it again - pressing your lips to his other nipple and licking it.

Before he can even wrap his mind around that you start to lick his belly and Jeonghan almost sees stars. He just feels everything, and apparently, your tongue dragging against his skin goes straight to his dick. Jeonghan doesn't know how, but he lifts himself up on his elbows, the view alone could make him cum - you still kissing him, lips on his hips, pressing Jeonghan's dick against his tummy, fingers rubbing his frenulum and he is just so sensitive that he groans before he can hold your hand making you stop.

"Too sensitive?" You ask and why the fuck do you sound so out of it when Jeonghan is being pulled and pushed around the edge?

"A little," Jeonghan answers breathlessly, his tongue dry against his mouth.

"Ok, noted," you say before doing something even worse - placing your lips on the same place before kissing the tip of his dick.

You wrap your lips around Jeonghan can't really control himself, he just pushes his hips slightly so you can take more of him, and god when you moan around him almost makes Jeonghan forget every trace of decency and good bed etiquette. But damn you just look so beautiful sucking his dick, one of your hands digging on his thigh and the other one still wrapped around his dick that it is physically impossible to not thrust his hips up.

"God," Jeonghan says and he sounds so defeated against his own ears, "fuck, you are so pretty," he tries again, looking at you and when he sees you looking up at him, eyes almost twinkling with the praise. And his mind almost snaps - oh, you felt that didn't you? The joy of discovering something every time Jeonghan's hips snapped. He gets it now. It is almost like a power trip. "So pretty, taking my cock," Jeonghan tries again and he almost can feel your moan against his dick before he can hear it.

Every word that Jeonghan mutters makes you take more of his dick into your mouth until he is hitting the back of your throat, god and how he can take that? Your lips around him, your tongue dancing around his dick, the hollowing of yours checks each time you suck him. He is delirious and out of his mind. He tries his best, he really does, but his hips have a mind of its own, and before he knows it he is thrusting up again making you gag around him.

Then your mouth leaves his dick and Jeonghan feels like he is about to collapse, everything just feels so much - the sound, the spit trail, the way your breath is irregular, fanning against his skin - and yet the intensity of feeling nothing makes him mind spin a little bit.

"Come here," Jeonghan mutters trying to catch his own breath. You crawl up his body and Jeonghan can only focus on how messy you look, lips glossy and pink, and he can see the faintest trail of spit on the corner of your lips, he presses his lips there before he drags his fingers on your lips, "I let you suck my cock, can I fuck you now?"

"Please?" You ask back and Jeonghan can feel his dick twitching.

"How do you want me?" Jeonghan says tugging at the bottom of your shorts and he almost laughs when you just shove everything down at once - and he could laugh really, at your desperation but first, he is way worse than you, second you are so pretty that he can't wrap his mind around the fact that everything he conjured up in his mind every time he thought about you when he was lazily stroking himself didn't do you justice.

"You can stay like that," you say, and before Jeonghan can mutter an answer you are already placing your knees on the sides of his hips, his hands automatically going to your waist, his mouth pressing against your collar bones.

One of your hands goes to Jeonghan's jaw, just holding slightly, while the other one wraps around Jeonghan's dick again - and he swears he would say something but his mind goes completely blank when you press your pussy on his dick. Your hips moving to make his cock disappear between your folds, making it drag against your clit, Jeonghan can feel how wet you are and god everything just feels so hot - he feels tight all over, like his muscles are contracting, even the ones he didn't know he had.

"Are you getting off like this?" Jeonghan questions and his only answer is a whine and your hips buckling against him, "Come on baby," Jeonghan tries again, hand now holding your hip, guiding your movements, "I can-" Jeonghan breathes, he doesn't want to say it but, "If you keep going like that, pussy so pretty against my cock, I will cum before I-"

"God," you groan against his shoulder, "can you really?"

"Yeah," Jeonghan almost laugh, his hand grabbing your ass. Of course, he can, he could've come already, but he is dragging this off, he is holding himself back. "Babe," Jeonghan calls you, mouth hot against your neck, "I could've come on your mouth, I'm so hard it is almost painful,"

"Can we-" You almost hiccup, "can we like that" you mumble again, "you can fuck me later," you say and Jeonghan almost sees white.

God, he could cum like that this wasn't even a question, the question was could you? The fact that you were over the edge like him was enough to drive him crazy.

Every time you drag your hips against him Jeonghan's let out a little moan, and he feels so wrecked that he just plants his lips on your neck, sucking at your skin. Jeonghan does not know if it is a reaction or is just because he is losing his mind but he can tell you are getting faster, the rhythm getting a little off, the way you breathe against him, everything just seems too much, and Jeonghan can't take it anymore.

The world stops spinning for a bit - everything just stays still.

Jeonghan is out of it until the sound of your breath brings him back. You are almost pouting. "Did you?" Jeonghan asks, himself breathless too.

"No," You whine and you feel so frustrated that Jeonghan pities you a little bit.

"It's okay," he says - because it is he will take care of it, it's not a problem.

But when Jeonghan looks down he almost cums again. It is so messy. Why there is so much cum? God, he blinks at the view - trying to take everything but mainly you, hovering on his lap.

"Han," You call and Jeonghan is brought back to reality.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry," he says, and it is not like he is in control anymore, his mind Is just gone, he just drops his hand - scooping his own cum and placing it own your pussy. You moan so loudly and Jeonghan can feel your desperation, pressing his digits more firmly against your clit, "Like that?" He questions and you can only nod your head, words falling. Jeonghan holds you close to him, your chest against his, your hand still going between your legs, his other hand holding your waits, "Fuck how can you be so hot," he starts going making you feel a light-headed, "I will eat you later okay?" Jeonghan says, "Don't worry, I will eat you out and I will let you fuck me, you just need to tell me what you need."

"Just," You hiccup, "Just like that."

Jeonghan listens to you, even though the position is not the best to his wrist and he could do so much better - but you just keep babbling on and on about how you are almost there, how he just needs to stay like that, how you are feeling so good that he listens to you, how could he not when you are almost coming undone against his fingers?

And then you bring Jeonghan's face up to a kiss, his mind was too focused on his fingers disappearing against your folds to catch on earlier, but you don't seem to mind when you lick against his mouth and finally cum. Jeonghan holds you against his body for a few seconds when he finally hears you groan.

"God I am so sticky," you complain and he finally laughs.

Jeonghan though, keeps his promise and he eats you out after that, and he fucks you too, and then, he just forgets he has his own room.

It is weird how much you two fit each other. And how seamlessly you two turn into boyfriend-girlfriend situations, or legally, husband-wife, but who cares about silly papers really?

Everything is normal really - Jeonghan keeps saying he need just a better Ttoram version before you two start promoting on social media. You two keep sharing dinners, and Jeonghan even makes a point about how the two of you need to go on a date. You bribe him, telling him he needs to call Cheol before the wedding - and he just shrugs and picks his phone up calling his best friend, you almost scream, it was that easy?

You two share everything, you don't know why but Jeonghan just chooses your bed to sleep in, you question him saying you want to sleep on his bed too - it just smells like you, is nice - he says before making a weird noise after face planting one of your pillows. 

It comes to the point that you get weirded out when you wake up and he is not on your bed. When you pick yourself up and finally drag your body out of the bed - something weird happens, an unknown voice resonates in your house - okay not yours, Jeonghan's but...

You find Jeonghan in the kitchen, back facing you, sipping a cup of tea with another woman. A very gentle elderly lady, her hair is almost all white, and everything about her screams grandma. She sees you before you can say anything,

"Hi dear," even her voice is gentle.

"Han?" You ask when Jeonghan stares at you, eyes fondly taking up your sleepy self.

"Hey baby, come here," He says opening his arms, "come here Iris was talking about how she was visiting her third grandson can you believe that?"

You could, sure, everything about her screamed grandma in uppercase letters, but what was happening?

"Yes," the old lady answers, "where was I?" she claps before she picks back up again, "See like I was telling you, Aroon's mom is my youngest daughter, and her pregnancy hadn't been the easiest so that's why I couldn't bring the table back," she says and you neck almost snaps, looking at Jeonghan's, he is so proud of himself that you almost scream. "So I'm sorry dear, your husband told me how much it meant to you but I was out of town so-"

God, he looks so proud and so full of himself, he couldn't be happier right now. God, you are so deeply in love with him. You could marry him all over again.

[BONUS SCENE ONE - THE WEDDING}

“Are we doing this for real?” You ask and the world is kinda spinning a little bit, by your side, Jeonghan holds your hand. You both stare at this little chapel, the Elton John one because you said that you would prefer to be married with don't go breaking my heart, Tiny Dancer or even Berry and the Jets as a soundtrack than any of the Elvis’s songs and of course Jeonghan listened, he listened to everything you said. What a fucker, how could you not be in love with this guy? What? Wait-

“Of course, we are doing this, we made a bet,” Jeonghan says still staring at the chapel.

“Only because we made a bet,” you say looking at him. When Jeonghan turns his head to look at you something inside you sings a bit - like a doll with something in the inside broke and jiggling inside.

“Of course darling, only because we made a bet,” Jeonghan says, holding your hand firmly, he smiles at you, and out of nowhere he is running inside the building and you follow him around because why not?

It seemed like a fucking great idea, and you both did lose the bet, even though right now you can't really think straight - how does a bet work? Can both people lose a bet at the same time? You are not totally sure but you guess Jeonghan is right, it can happen.

[BONUS SCENE TWO - BIOGRAPHY]

When Jeonghan finally opens the hotel door you almost fall in the room, but before you fall face flat on the floor Jeonghan's hands save you from breaking your nose.

“Wow, what a gentlemanly husband I have,” You say, tapping his chest.

“Sure, sure, perfect husband material right here,” Jeonghan says pointing at himself the door still open.

“You are,” you gushed, hands on his shoulders searching for some kind of balance, using these high heels shows was so wrong, but you knew at least you would be pretty in your wedding pics, and in the end, that’s all that matters - the pictures for your own autobiography that you will make for your grandchildren. You always told Jeonghan that you would make one for him too, with every single thing he gave you as a safe keep and the collection of pictures you have of him in different times of his life. You have pictures of Jeonghan with his long hair, with his short hair, the time he died it was almost white because he thought it would be so so cool and ended up hating how it fucked up his scalp. You had the material, you had the story, and you could do his biography, the funny thing now it is that his grandchildren could be yours too.

“What are you laughing at?” Jeonghan says, kneeling at your feet and taking your shoes off, wow, a life-saver.

“I just thought about grandchildren,” you squealed in a high-pitched voice that you didn’t know you had until Jeonghan’s hand found your hips.

“Grandchildren?”He asks you softly.

“The biographies,” you say and Jeonghan nods, “I was thinking about how I always pictured us together when we were gray and old in a nursing home together all that jazz, but know that I thought about it, your family will be my family so the grandchild will be the same kids, I won’t do your biography for your grandchildren I will do your biography for my grandchildren as well that changes a lot of things,”

“Like what?” He asks amused

“I don’t know if I want to tell them about the time you were sure to have gonorrhea or something like that”

“I do think we can let this story die with us,”

“wait, now that I am thinking about it like we only have one family," You say, a pouting on your lips, and Jeonghan almost melts, "that means only one visit in the nursing home because like when our family as separate entities we would have two families so two visit yours and mine now that I think about it I think we should divorce

“We are not divorcing," Jeonghan says.

“We can annul It,” you try again.

“We won't do it,” Jeonghan says, shaking his head like you are talking nonsense.

“But two visits are better than one,” You say showing him your fingers and trying to make him understand that two are indeed better than one, boys like girls even sang about this, was Jeonghan dumb?

“I won't have a family if it isn't your family,” Jeonghan says plopping down on the bed.

“Of course you can have a family,” you are sure of it Jeonghan is amazing there is nothing stopping him.

“But I don't want to,” Jeonghan whines looking at you and you get it, you finally get it.

“Damn boy you are crazy about me,” you say laughing, laying on his side.

“Now you are catching up,” Jeonghan says while his arms close around you.

“Still think two is a bigger number”

[BONUS SCENE - SHOULD WE?]

Jeonghan, your husband of three years, is eating on the kitchen counter and you can almost hear the gears in his brain turning and twisting. Sometimes, you think that maybe, Jeonghan is like a toy that he built the week prior, if you pick him up and shake him around you can hear loose parts of him rattling inside of himself.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask while opening the fridge.

“Should we go to Vegas again?” He asks taking a bit of his breakfast.

“Vegas?” you say - your head peaking and your body stretched so you can face him while the fridge door is open. 

“I was thinking we should renew our vows,” he says like he is thinking about buying lunch because he cannot bring himself to cook, “you know, I want you to actually remember our wedding.”

#Yoon Jeonghan fic #Yoon Jeonghan fanfic #Yoon Jeonghan imagines #Yoon Jeonghan smut #Jeonghan fic #Jeonghan fanfic #Jeonghan imagines #Jeonghan smut #Seventeen fanfic #Seventeen fic #Seventeen imagines #Seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt fic #svt fanfic #svt smut #svt imagines #t: writting #t: yoon jeonghan

[rileyslibrary]

may i request ghost seeing reader making something (maybe a get well soon card or a papercrane or sth idk) and then someone accidentally ruining it? like how would he react? what would he do next etc

doesnt have to be a fic if you decide to write it, could be bulletpoints or something ez🥰🥰

thankyouu🥺✨

I love getting requests like this one; thank you @lululandd! Also, there’s a very important A/N at the end, so meet me there. Buh-bye for now, enjoy! 🍫

———————————————————————

Price got hurt. It was a terrible hit, and everything happened so fast. You were there, at the crime scene, as everything unfolded right before your very eyes.

His injury, however, wasn’t the result of a mission gone wrong; no. Some idiot forgot to put the warning sign on the wet floor, which caused the poor man to fly into the air and crash to the floor.

The good news is that he's recovering quickly and is now being held at the medical centre until he's ready to be released.

The bad news? Without a captain to guide the team, there was no mission to undergo. And, without a mission, none of you had a clear direction or purpose, leaving you all floating in a sea of mundane tasks and boredom. So, for the past few days, you and the rest of the team have been doing mind-numbing chores ranging from scrubbing the kitchen’s greasy ovens to meticulously organising the cluttered armoury.

While Soap and Gaz are on patrol, you and Ghost are taking a break in the mess hall. He’s cleaning his gun by disassembling it and wiping all its metal components with an alcohol solution. You sit across from him, working on a different kind of project: making a get-well-soon card for Price.

Last night, you snuck into HR’s office and “borrowed” some supplies to help you with your craft: a piece of white paper from the printer, some markers, and a pot of blue-coloured glitter dust you found in one of the drawers. It was a mystery as to why the military’s Human Resources department possessed glitter. Still, it will undoubtedly prove helpful with your "crafty" mission.

You also went to the doctor and requested some “normal-sized” bandages to help with your secret project. The doctor leaned back in his chair, raising one eyebrow. He asked why you wanted the bandages, but you were so vague with your answer that he became suspicious of you. So he pulled his desk’s drawer and gave you one fucking bandage—just one. So you had to make it count.

You folded the white paper in half and carefully attached the bandage horizontally to create the outline of Price’s body. The only thing left is to paint his face on the bandage and draw a hospital bed underneath it. That, and getting the team together to write some kind messages on the card.

Ghost looks at you every now and then, mildly intrigued by your artistic creation. You catch his eye, and he quickly turns away.

“Do you like it?” you ask.

“It’s a bandage on a piece of paper,” he says, shrugging. “What is there to like?”

“It’s not just a bandage on a piece of paper,” you explain and gesture to the figure on the paper; “it’s supposed to be Price lying in his hospital bed, recovering.”

His response comes in the form of a lengthy, dismissive snort. He points to the glitter pot in front of you.

“Why the glitter?” he asks.

“It’s for the bedsheets,” you murmur.

“I didn’t know they transferred Price to a love hotel,” he mocks, turning away from you to resume his task. You roll your eyes in response and shift your focus to your craft. This is the same guy you’ll later ask to write a few pleasant words on that card. Fun stuff.

You can still feel his gaze on you as you work on the captain’s card. Despite his best efforts to appear apathetic, you notice him leaning in slightly, pretending to stretch or yawn while sneaking peeks at your project. His body language betrays him; even though he tries to be tough and keep up the act, you know that deep down, he’s a huge softie who can’t resist a heartfelt gesture. He coughs, pretending to clear his throat, and you stifle a laugh at his failed attempt to seem disinterested. You roll your eyes and slam your hand on the table.

“What’s your problem, Lieutenant?” you ask with an amused smirk on your lips.

“I just don’t understand,” he says as he wipes the gun barrel. “Why bother making a card from scratch when you can buy one?”

“Because it’s more meaningful,” you explain. “When you take the time to create something yourself, it shows that you care. It’s not a generic card; it’s a heartfelt statement.”

He lets out a sarcastic scoff.

“I’d do the same thing for you, you know.” You whisper.

He puts down his rifle and looks at you. “You would?” He asks, surprised.

You nod. “Of course, I would,” you reply, “but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that; I’d rather you stay injury-free.”

He chuckles and turns to look at the mess hall doors as they open, with Soap and Gaz carrying a large box and approaching you both.

They slam the box on the table without assessing its weight, causing the entire surface to shake. The impact knocks Ghost’s alcohol solution over, spilling it all over the table and, even worse, all over your hand-made card.

Your heart sinks to your stomach as you helplessly watch the liquid soak into the card, smudging the ink and warping the paper. Ghost throws the gun on the table and grabs your card as quickly as he can. Soap curses under his breath, and Gaz grabs some paper towels from another table, attempting to rescue anything he can. But it’s too late; the damage is done.

You look up to see Ghost standing there, pinching your card between his fingers.

He is livid.

“What the fucking fucking shit, sergeants?” He murmurs.

“Apologies,” Soap replies, utterly unaware of what he’s done, “Hope we didn’t ruin anything important.”

“This,” Ghost says quietly as he raises the destroyed card, “was a get-well-soon card for Price.”

“Sorry guys,” Gaz apologises as he wipes the table off. “Soap and I will go buy another o-”

“SHE MADE THIS!” Ghost yells at him, “SHE MADE THIS WITH HER OWN HANDS!”

Soap furrows his brow. “Why would you make a card when you can buy one?” he wonders.

Ghost slaps his thigh, muttering profanities under his breath. You try to convince him that it’s alright and that a store-bought card will do just fine, but he cuts you off and looks at the sergeants.

“Why make a card instead of just buying one?” He asks and brings the tips of his fingers together, waving his hand back and forth in front of the two sergeants. “Because a hand-made card is more meaningful and personal than buying a generic one, you dimwits,” he lectures them and turns to you.

“Can you make another one, Y/N?” He asks softly.

You lower your head to the ground. “I’m afraid I’ve run out of banda-”

“SHE DOESN’T HAVE ANY MORE BANDAGES, YA PRICKS!”

“And I had only one sheet of paper.”

“AND SHE HAD ONL-” he pauses. “How come you only got one sheet?” He asks, and you explain that you weren’t supposed to be on the HR premises, so you had to act quickly. Ghost lets out a deep sigh as he looks at the ruined card.

“Sergeant Mactavish, go get a few sheets of paper from my office,” he instructs before turning to Gaz. “Sergeant Garrick,” he orders, “go to the medic; tell him that your new boots have caused blisters on your feet, and you need a few bandages to patch them up.”

They both nod and leave to go fetch your supplies. Ghost turns to you and crumbles your—already—destroyed card.

“Don’t be sad, kid,” he comforts you, “I’ll help you make another one.”

“Really, Lt.?” You ask, grinning.

“Damn right I will,” he says as he takes off his gloves, “and it’ll have bandages and bedsheets full of fucking glitter and everything nice on it.”

———————————————————————

A/N: The card was inspired by this tutorial from Jennie Moraitis; all credit goes to her. Here’s a picture of the card from her website!

#simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #simon riley #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod mw2 #ghost cod mw2 #ghost cod mwii #cod ghost #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley fic #simon ghost riley fanfiction #ghost mw2

[cherryjuiceblues]

𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 | 𝟓.𝟏

➯ Y/N SPENDS TOO MUCH TIME IN HER OWN HEAD WITHOUT HER DOMINANT AND HARRY’S WORRIED HE MIGHT SCARE HER OFF IF HE PROFESSES WHAT HE’S SO DYING TO SAY. ✰ dom!harry relationship wobbles. sexual content. dominant and submissive dynamics. daddy kink. tickling kink. squirting. minors dni. 𝑤𝑐 9.7k ッ mutually beneficial masterlist

Harry’s slacks are being fiddled with. Threads starting to fray from the incessant tugging of nervous fingertips.

And normally—normally—Harry wouldn’t have a problem with Y/N needing to keep her hands busy, or attempting to enmesh herself into his side. But today is different. And today, Harry’s patience is wearing thin.

He almost feels guilty. He knows Y/N doesn’t enjoy these situations, this atmosphere. He knows she was being kind when she said she’d like to come with him. He knows she’s been anxious since he asked her. 

But the frustration is winning tonight—the silent wish that she’d just stayed at home bouncing around the inside of his skull. It makes him feel mean; intolerant. And Harry is neither mean nor intolerant. Ever.

He doesn’t like to think it but… something isn’t working. Something is slowly turning into everything—and it sits heavy in his gut—heavy and foreign.

“Darlin’, hands in your lap, please.” His breath dances across Y/N’s temple and she shivers slightly; only enough for Harry to notice. It’s quiet, his voice, and she nods to herself—the tiniest jerk of her head—a silent apology as she smooths her clammy palms down her own thighs.

The dinner is boring—he’ll admit. But Harry isn’t one to let apathy show on his face when it matters and… right now, it matters. The business partners sitting before him, a husband and his wife, are perhaps two of the most important people Harry has had the displeasure of dealing with during his time as CEO. They’re more passionate than him, and loud when it matters—they’re determined and distinguished in the financial scene—and can have their voices be the only ones heard when they want them to be.

But regardless of how much his eyes are rolling on the inside, Harry’s face presents complete and utter professionalism besides his less than enthusiastic partner, who—bless her—had tried. She had. She’d been polite smiles, and firm handshakes, and straightened posture. She’d been silently engaged, and spoke when addressed. She’d been perfect. But that was an hour and a half ago—and if Harry had been feeling any other way, he’d be much more forgiving than he is right now. 

Because Y/N’s face is starting to lose its civility, and her eyes are starting to gloss over, and her posture is starting to slump, and her composure is starting to slip. And that’s okay. It is. It should be. But Harry’s anxious too; he’s worried, he’ll admit. He’s choosing his every word with precision, he’s using words and phrases not in his everyday vocabulary in an attempt to write himself into Mr. and Mrs. Pierson’s good books.

So the nerves are getting the better of him. And it’s an ugly feeling. He hates feeling the control slip from his hands, hates feeling as though he is not the one in charge of his emotions, hates letting the anxiety treat Y/N as his asset as opposed to his other half.

And Harry doesn’t like to disrespect the ones he loves. 

Such a thought may seem sudden. But he’s loved her for a while now—it doesn’t scare him. But if Y/N were anyone else, he wouldn’t even have to question whether she returns his feelings. Because it should be obvious by this point.

But this is Y/N. The woman he loves, sure, but also the woman who has required Harry to adopt a new way of communication—for the better—without a doubt. Yet still, what he doesn’t know is how the fuck he’s going to tell her. How he’s going to say anything without overwhelming her. He likes to think that, by now, he’s got a pretty good understanding of how Y/N’s brain works—which is why (and it feels cruel to even venture down this neural pathway but) he’s nearly one-hundred-percent sure that she has convinced herself that he could never love her.

Which is absurd. It’s so absurd that Harry would be more likely to believe the Earth is flat than to encourage the notion that Y/N is unloveable. He would rather voluntarily get an intrusive operation or lose all of his personal belongings. But how does one convince another that they are worthy of love? If they don’t believe it themself. 

And, undoubtedly, her behaviour is still off. Despite their recent conversation—despite Y/N’s tears and Harry’s reassurance—she’s still fighting the submission. And it’s draining her. Harry can see it. She wants nothing more than to give in but she just won’t let herself and it’s weighing heavier and heavier on Harry’s heart. As though she’s scared, or creating enough distance to build a wall—brick by brick—Y/N hesitates, Y/N ignores, Y/N diverts.

The dominant in him thinks she should be punished. For countlessly testing his patience. But it doesn’t feel right—the possibility that Harry might make her cry for any reason that is not good makes his bones ache—and Y/N is on the brink of tears a lot these days. Harry doesn’t know what to do. How to approach what’s going on—when they’ve already had some kind of conversation surrounding Y/N’s difficulties with accepting his care—and seeing that nothing has changed. He understands that he needs to ask her to make a decision—to stop working or to stop trying to maintain his home, as well as her own; she cannot continue to do both and preserve any sort of mental stability.

But he suspects that she may not choose the thing they both want the most.

And when Harry is letting his impatience overpower him then how can she be blamed at all?

She’s tired when they get in the car—back moulding into the seat as she gives a relieved sigh. And relief—relief is something that releases countless endorphins, something that can have Y/N do a complete one-eighty in personality and demeanour. Relief makes her chatty, and it makes her fidgety. 

“They were a bit uppity.” The words are carried in a manic sort of lilt.

“Mhm,” Harry hums, paying attention to the road as he pulls out of the car park and into the throng of vehicles. The headlights pierce right into his eye sockets as they speed past. Spending an evening with The Pierson’s has inflicted the most terrible of headaches—but he’s relieved too—at the prospect of not having to deal with them again for a long while.

Y/N scratches at her knuckles for a second too long—Harry has to ignore the urge to cover her hands with his own—as she admits, “I don’t think they liked me very much.”

And maybe his first port of call should’ve been reassurance, but he says, “Who cares what they think?” The line of irritation might start to blur in his voice, Harry can’t tell. 

“Me, obviously.”

He spares her a glance out of the corner of his eye to see she’s already looking at him, shy but cheeky smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. She does that sometimes. When she says something bratty but wants to stay in his good books. It usually works.

Harry says nothing, turning his attention back to the blinding road before he can see that smile disappearing. Y/N shuffles in her seat next to him, looking out of her window with a little sigh. It’s times like these that she worries. Worries about being too much to handle. And right now her anxieties manifest quickly—insecurities bubbling to the surface and lodging themselves in her throat. One tiny action, or a handful of even smaller ones, changing the course of her pattern of thinking.

It feels rude to ask, each syllable falling off her tongue with a clatter. She almost wants to flinch. “Can you take me home, please? As in… my home.”

This has Harry attentive, granting her more than a single peek from the corner of his eye. He looks over for a second or two, asking, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she nods, and the confession comes easily now, anxiety and relief coalescing into a chaotic swirl, “I’m tired,” harsh knuckles nudge at eye sockets. “It was really loud in there… and those lights were awful… and… I just need a night alone, I think.” She doesn’t say what she’s really believing—I think you need a night alone from me.

But Harry doesn’t argue. Harry never argues. He never usually has to; things just go his way. He’s resigned as he sighs, before nodding quickly, tersely, eyes fixated on the road. “Okay, darling, if you’re sure.”

“Sorry,” Y/N finds herself saying, guilt swarming in her gut despite believing it’s for the best. But it seems nothing she says ever feels right. 

Harry reaches over to squeeze her thigh, warm and encompassing, a silent reassurance that she needn’t apologise. And then he verbally reassures her too, “Don’t be silly, you’re allowed to miss home comforts,” he squeezes again, and flits his eyes over with a small smile, “especially when you’ve got such a cute bedroom.”

Y/N can’t help but mirror his expression, a giddy giggle bubbling out of her throat. “It is pretty cute.” Cuter with her beautifully broad dominant decorating her frilly bedspread, but she doesn’t have the confidence to specify so.

Harry keeps the weight of his hand on her thigh for as long as he possibly can, lifting it only when crucial to the safety of his driving. When he pulls up outside Y/N’s building and turns off the ignition, neither of the pair move. She asked to go home but she doesn’t want to be here. She wants Harry to turn the car back on and take her to his home whether she may pretend to protest or not.

But all she does is angle her body towards Harry’s and peek up at him from under her lashes. He’s already looking at her, of course, a tired smile on his handsome face.

“Come here,” he brings his hand up and threads his fingers through her hair, scratching soothingly. Y/N’s eyes flutter shut, unable to resist the way she gravitates towards him. She doesn’t see the worry in Harry’s eyes.

He kisses her. And she kisses him back. A soft sponging of lips warmed by the gentle exhalations from their noses. It’s nothing indecent, but any passerby would be sure to read the signs; there’s no other way to interpret such a kiss other than with deeply rooted affection. More than just a brief goodbye between casual lovers.

Harry pulls away first, letting his lips tingle against Y/N’s cupid’s bow. “I—” I love you. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.” Her eyes stay shut, frozen in Harry’s hold, wishing to stay in his car indefinitely.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs, slowly untangling his fingers and swiping down the bridge of her nose with his knuckle to make her smile, “go and get some rest.”

As soon as she’s disappeared behind her front door, turning around to give Harry a little wave to send him off with one final pretty picture, he lets his posture slump. He lets the worry carve lines along his face, and he lets his lungs heave a tired sigh.

Harry doesn’t much like his house anymore—not without Y/N in it—it feels double its already gargantuan size and the hues she’s painted across every surface fade back to white. But, when he gets home, the remnants of her follow him from room to room. An almost painful reminder. And Harry has to shake some sense into himself; she’s not dead. She’s fine, she’s asleep in her bed, safe in her house, but… it’s not that he’s worried about.

He sits in his kitchen alone, stabbing pitifully at his fruit for one. He’s not hungry, but Y/N never turns down a fresh bowlful at any time of the day, so it seems his brain insists that now would be the best occasion. And it’s not like they’ve never spent nights apart but this one feels different, this one feels forced—tense—unravelling. 

Mugs scatter the draining board, vibrant in colour and pattern; one small example of Harry seeing something—anything—and feeling compelled to buy it for Y/N. To watch her face light up over whichever cutesy thing he’s presented her with. They fill his cupboards (the mugs) pushing his old, plain, white ones to the back where they gather dust. He should put the clean ones away but he doesn’t. Instead his viridescent eyes trail across to the fridge, lettered magnets untouched from their formation that Y/N had ordered them in earlier that day. 

PRUNE

Harry can’t help but smile despite how heavy his face feels—unable to ignore the idiosyncrasies of Y/N. There was nothing inherently funny about the word but for her to deem it a bizarre enough move to play as her hand… that’s what makes him smile. That in their silent, little game of who can spell out the most peculiar of words with their limited letters, her brain will always go somewhere he never expects.

He feels an immense weight swirling around in his gut; for not being with her now, for not making sure she’s okay. Regardless of her wish to be alone, Harry should know when to overrule her decisions if he believes he knows best. He’s become responsible for Y/N’s wellbeing—a true joy in his life but it doesn’t come without its challenges. It’s difficult to remind himself that she coped on her own for a long time, but he doesn’t think it's unfair to describe her attempts at self care as poor. And just because she survived on her own, that doesn’t mean she was okay—Harry has a pretty clear picture of that now.

Moping doesn’t tend to be an attractive look but… it doesn’t matter much, Harry considers, when he’s on his own. He mopes—from the kitchen and up the stairs, to his bedroom that he frowns at upon entering. Full of Y/N. He misses her so potently and he doesn’t understand why. 

The guilt gnaws away at him as he gets ready for bed, alone. As he strips from his uncomfortable suit, alone. As he brushes his teeth, alone, staring dismally at his tired face. Y/N’s products scatter the counter, unmoved from where she left them this morning. Her exfoliator narrows its beady eyes at him as he splashes his face with water, patting himself dry, alone—trudging back to his bed, alone. Cold and empty, bigger than it’s ever been before and dull without the mound of his lover curled within, sheets unloving as they lay leaden on his lone body.

He can smell her, he can see her things, her clothes, her personality—everywhere. So potent and yet so hollow, so ghostly. Harry groans, smothering his face into his pillow, but the force in which his head presses in only expels more of what he’s trying not to inhale.

Sleep doesn’t introduce itself; Harry doesn’t even let it. He’s up and out of bed before he can let his thoughts drift further, and out into his garden where he lets the midnight chill kiss his cheeks, nursing a caffeinated tea—sure to paint the sullen unders of his eyes a dusty mauve in the morning.

Y/N sleeps surprisingly well. And it is surprising, because before the unconsciousness had taken over, she’d tossed and turned for at least an hour. She’d even cried for a while when unable to stop her mind from wandering into dark hallways and even darker prison cells.

But then again, a good headache inducing cry always was the best medicine.

She turns down Harry when he phones her at eleven fifty-two the next morning. To go and get breakfast at The Little Snail Café, a usual occasion for them on a Saturday. 

I don’t really feel like going out—I’m sorry. No… no, thank you. I’m still a little out of it from last night. …No, I’m okay. Really, ‘m okay. Yes, I promise. Okay… Okay, bye.

It feels wrong, it itches somewhere she cannot reach—it lines her bones and aches and aches. She spends most of that day sitting and staring, at nothing in particular. A whole chunk of her day just zoned out in the direction of her wall. But it wouldn’t have mattered had her vision been aimed at white plaster or a menagerie of the world’s most exotic animals—her eyes still would have glossed over, blurred by a sheen of vacancy.

By the time the sun sets and the moon casts its chilling glow, Y/N can recount eating one full meal and going to the bathroom twice, maybe three times—the rest of the hours lost in a haze.

It doesn’t feel particularly good to get out of the house—and face Sunday morning head on—but Y/N forces herself to regardless. Whether she has or has not run out of milk is entirely unrelated. There were no plans to stop for anything else, to become waylaid or distracted by bookstores, or the smells of deliciously fatty breakfast foods frying, or even to bump into her dear friend. Her dear friend who she has neglected for so long that, embarrassingly, Y/N will admit, she’s been avoiding out of shame.

And Niall is feeling neglected. Which Y/N knows, not from assumption but because he tells her as such.

“Never see you anymore, do I?” He nurses the steaming mug between his palms, the searing ceramic bringing feeling back into his iced fingertips. “Have to bump into you at the bleedin’ shops, beg you to get a coffee, and you still won’t tell me how you are,” he swallows. “And you hate going shopping alone!” His jewellery clatters against the mug as he gesticulates wildly. “We always did that together,” pausing to take a sip, sighing when Y/N doesn’t take the opportunity to fill his silence. “You’re breaking my heart here, Y/N.”

The two friends work in the same building—and that is the fact that is silently ignored by either party. It’s awkward, and it’s sad, to admit out loud that they don’t even cross paths at work.

She sighs, hoping the swirling, spiralling liquid of her latte might just hypnotise her. “I’m sorry.”

Another resigned exhale, “Yes, well. I know y’are. You’re always bloody sorry. Too bloody sorry, if y’ask me.”

“You’re being mean,” she frowns, unused to the lack of frivolity coming from the usually maddeningly overjoyed half of their duo.

“Mean?” He’s incredulous. “I’m grumpy, aren’t I! Because I miss my best friend and she’s gone radio silent on me.”

Yeah. She can’t deny that—already admitted it, in fact. “I didn’t mean to, I— I forget. I—”

“You forgot about me.” His voice is perfectly steady. Nearly disbelieving but still and stoic.

“I did not! I…” she swallows around a scratch in her throat, trying so hard to ignore the uncomfortable wash of heat over her forehead. “I’ve never had more than one person to focus on before. And I’ve been so busy, I just— I get overwhelmed, and I panic, and I… You never even texted me.”

Niall huffs, grumbling, “Was waiting for you to text me.”

“Well,” Y/N exhales, tempted to laugh, all of a sudden, “it’s just as much your fault then. You know I’m not good at it. Texting and whatever.”

And then a telling vibration rumbles through her bag, loud enough for both bickering friends to stop and catch one another’s eyes. Y/N tries to play it off, tries to ignore it but Niall rolls his eyes.

“Answer him.”

She scoffs, “It could be anyone.”

“Oh, give over. Answer him.”

She rolls her bottom lip into her mouth nervously, a murky guilt swimming around her insides as she pulls out her phone.

Harry Hi darling, missed you yesterday. Hope you’re having a nice day. X

And suddenly the remorse is filling her lungs like water. Her heart dips inside her ribs, pounding alarmingly, lips pulling down into a frown she doesn’t realise is visible. She types out a reply automatically, autopilot taking over—declaring she’s out with Niall and that she misses him too—maybe a tad overeager with the exclamation marks.

“What’s wrong?”

Her eyes stay locked onto the little keyboard at the bottom of her screen. “Hm? Nothing.”

“Right,” Niall mutters, unconvinced. When she puts the phone down, he catches her off guard, and Y/N hadn’t adequately prepared for her day to go this way at all. She’d just needed some bloody milk! 

“We’re going out. T’dinner or something—”

The telltale signs of a migraine tease the backs of her eye sockets. “Oh—Niall, no—”

“—Mhm, yes we are. Bring Harry,” he nods, “I’ll bring… m’self, invite some guys from work.”

“Niall—”

“—Y/N.”

They stare at one another, Niall’s gaze firm and Y/N’s pleading. There’s nothing she hates more than social gatherings, let alone awkwardly unfamiliar ones with coworkers she only speaks to when they absolutely demand her attention, for Christ’s sake. But her friend doesn’t give—and Y/N can’t really blame him. She’s been a shoddy friend, after all, the least she can do is spend an evening with him. 

“Boyfriend can hold your hand,” he teases and Y/N frowns exaggeratedly, a warmth seeping out over her face.

“Shut up,” her bottom lip protrudes and she brings her steaming mug up to her face to distract from her incessant embarrassment. She doesn’t want to correct him about the boyfriend thing. Y/N comes across juvenile enough without having the ‘I don’t know what we are’ conversation. Besides, Niall would only dismiss her queries—quite rightly too. Of course, they’re dating; what else would it be? Harry had specified anyway. She was his, and he was hers.

“Please no dinner.”

Niall says nothing. And then he nods, “Okay, fine. No dinner. A long weekend, me and you, somewhere with wifi.”

“That sounds nice,” Y/N smiles. It’s small, a little nervous, but it’s genuine. She hasn’t spent proper time with her friend in so long that she’s worried she might have forgotten how. But it’s Niall, and she knows those anxieties will melt away near instantaneously.

“But just to remind you, if I hadn’t taken you out all those months ago, you never would’ve met Harry so maybe you should reconsider your stance on socialising.”

“That’s not fair—Wait, that’s not even true, you set us up on a bloody date, you arse. Surprise attacked me.”

He smiles. “Semantics.”

Y/N goes home on her own to wallow without Harry—knowing too well she could be in his bed instead of hers. And she spends the rest of her day similarly to the one before it—only now she’s got the dread of Sunday blues setting in. She starts to think, and overthink, and overthink her overthinking. She analyses everything about her relationship with Harry.

Their routine is—was—ordinary. Harry worked, Y/N worked, they met back at Harry’s home in which Y/N spent more time than her own, they ate dinner, they went to sleep. Rinse and repeat. It felt solid despite previous teething problems. But slowly, slowly but surely, things changed. So gradually that you wouldn’t notice straight away.

Now, Harry works, Y/N works, Harry texts Y/N to make sure she’s still coming over, Y/N says yes most of the time, she defies him more than she ever has done before, they play it off as bratty behaviour and the rest remains the same. Neither of them particularly like this fact, but Y/N is convinced of her own self-sabotage and Harry is practically terrified he’ll scare her off. So they stay at this impasse, waiting for what won’t come. 

And Y/N only reaches her breaking point quicker, and quicker. It’s why she lies to him the next day. She regrets it as soon as the decision is made because Y/N has never been a good liar, but it turns out she’s practically incapable of it when Harry is involved. If it weren’t for the fact his voice crackled down the phone line and he wasn’t staring into her anxious eyes, then she’s certain she wouldn’t have even tried to fib in the first place.

She’d glanced around an empty reception and moused over the five unread emails in her inbox as she informed Harry she was just too swamped to go out for lunch. The phones are ringing off the hooks, she’d said, staring at the empty chair behind her shared desk that was hardly ever preoccupied by two receptionists at once. Y/N had always been grateful for her shifts, but in that moment she’d almost wished there were fifty of them behind the bloody desk—phones ringing and keyboards clicking—just to compensate for the deceit.

And her heart thumped uncomfortably in her chest as she lied to him, clenching her eyes shut as if it wouldn’t just amplify the disappointment funnelling into her ear. With no vision, her mind could only wander from room to room, happening upon an easel and starting to paint the perfect depiction of personified emotions. Harry with frown lines and sad eyes, clutching at his heart as though someone had tried to forcibly remove it. 

The piece would hang in the Louvre, titled something like The Fatal Lie or She Who Breaks Hearts or He Does Everything for Her and She Fucking Lies to Him What A Fucking Bitc—

She didn’t open her eyes until the line went dead.

In truth, Y/N can’t exactly explain why she thinks this is necessary. If someone were to ask her to be logical about it all; to present her ideas as though they were a brand new theory or hypothesis, she would be entirely stumped.

Because there is no logic to it—but she fears she’s spiralling a little bit and she’s never known how to stop. Like one big DNA strand, Y/N can spiral forever. She feels as though she’s stuck inside her own personalised riddle. Why won’t the submissive let her dominant take care of her? And the answer is staring her right in the face but she can’t figure it out. Everyone is screaming at her inside of their heads but Y/N remains clueless.

It seems karma has a lovely big handful in store for her, however. And from an outsider’s perspective, Y/N might be more relieved that she is immediately punished for lying to Harry. But as it all happens, justice is the last thing on her mind.

Y/N has had more bad days than she’s had hot dinners. (Considering her eating habits are hardly healthy, that makes such an idiom somewhat disturbing.) Most days, she rolls out of bed expecting the following twelve hours to pour litre upon litre into her stress bucket—one so butchered and beaten that there are holes in the tin, leaking droplets steadily, and its contents are sloshed about with no poise.

As a result, she’s become fairly skilled at hiding her bubbling emotions under the surface; putting a lid on them until she’s somewhere safe to implode. To let them tip over the edge and sear the ground beneath her.

So what on Earth was compelling her eyes to start filling with no regard for her current environment? A professional setting, Y/N. Your workplace. Impatient men demanding things she cannot help them with may as well be included in the job description; Y/N knows how to deal with them—recites the sickeningly polite script memorised within the overwhelmed organ inside her skull. Tells them that this week is fully booked, Sir… and would they like to hear next week’s availability? 

She knows what to do. So why is it so hard today? Why do their bitter tones and probing questions drill so pointedly into her temples? She knows the answers to those riddles but a stubborn refusal to accept them makes her all the more frustrated.

It is so sorely reminiscent of the first time Harry had shown up at her door, faced with Y/N’s smeared mascara and crinkled work clothes. He’d bought her flowers, and he cooked her dinner, and he made her forget all about her day. Since then, Y/N thinks she’s forced his hand on too many occasions to be able to forgive herself. How many more times can she come home crying before he decides he’s had enough? The thought only makes her sniffle louder.

By the time her workday comes to a close, Y/N is ready to crawl into the nearest gutter and start her decomposing process sixty decades early. She takes herself to her preferred bathroom stall—the one with the wall on her right hand side—and dials Harry’s number before she has the chance to change her mind. If this is the last time he can handle her then so be it.

He picks up too quickly for Y/N to figure out what she’s going to say, his name in a frail whimper the only thing that comes out. “Harry?” She does try to school her tone but to no avail. Her voice totters about all over the place.

Immediately, Y/N hears shuffling on Harry’s end. A hasty sit-up, or a scattering of papers, the scraping of a chair pushing back from his desk in a panic. “Baby? What’s th’matter?”

And really, it’s Harry’s own fault for the clumsy sniffle that perforates his ears—how could Y/N not cry harder to the sound of his worried timbre? He calls her baby and she turns into one; helpless and desperate for care.

“Nothing, ‘m—I’m okay.”

Harry gives an exasperated huff, “Darlin’, I can hear you crying,” he smiles slightly through the phone but he’s not happy. “What’s wrong—?”

“—Sorry.”

Their voices overlap and there’s a pregnant pause. “Y/N.”

“Can—Can I come over?”

“Of course you can, sweetheart, why are you asking me?” She hears the scratching of stubble and it tickles her ears as if Harry is right next to her. “Never have to ask.”

“Okay,” she lets out a relieved sigh. He doesn’t sound annoyed, or exhausted, or fed up; it starts to thaw at the tensions in her body already. “Sorry.”

“S’okay, come home, alright?” Another pause where, presumably, he checks his watch, “Your shift’s over.”

“Mhm.” She hums so she doesn’t speak in wails. Shame slicks up and down her arms. It’s unbearably hot. It pecks at her skin and boils her from the inside out.

“I’ll see you in a bit, yeah, darlin’? Working from home today, I’ll put the kettle on f’ya.”

“Okay…” there’s a pause where a certain phrase feels appropriate, and then, “bye.”

Y/N dabs pathetically at her sodden cheeks, and blows her nose into a tissue. She tries to take slow, deep breaths but her airways are all congested and it must make for a sorry sight. 

But her shift is over. And Harry is waiting for her at home.

“There she is,” his voice practically carries her over the threshold of the front door. Harry’s holding a hot cup of tea and rubbing a socked foot along his calf to soothe an itch. He leans so effortlessly against the kitchen door frame.

He walks over, practically cooing, “Oh, Y/N. What are we g’na do with you, hm?” It’s almost patronising—if not for Y/N’s fondness for submission. For Harry’s dominance. She nuzzles her nose into his chest, soothed by every warm, heavy stroke of his palm up and down her back (he makes good heed to hold the steaming mug away from their embrace).

Y/N must look a mess—all sticky faced and wet eyes. Harry doesn’t say a thing—simply ushers her into the living room with a guiding palm melting into her lower back.

She exclaims suddenly, “My shoes—!” and it doesn’t matter how comfortable Y/N may be in Harry’s home, she’ll never feel polite wandering around in outdoor footwear. But he shushes her, forces her gently onto the sofa with a nudge and places her drink on the side table. He kneels down, taking care of her bothersome loafers that still rub against her heels no matter how broken in they may be. Nurturing digits squeeze and knead the sensitive flesh, almost eliciting a peal of shrieks and writhing, before they smooth up the backs of her calves—nylon course against soft palms.

The shaggy rug that Y/N over-familiarised herself with, all those months ago, cradles her feet—her socks, however cute they may be with frills around the ankles, prohibiting her from burying her toes despite her best attempts. Harry looks up at her from the floor, worry still ever present in his expression. He’d hidden it well, greeting her with a smile, as he always tends to do, but now she’s sat in front of him, sofa swallowing her up, and he lets the fuss tug at his brows.

“Wanna talk to me?”

It’s soft and unassuming, but Y/N still looks upset to be asked. She sniffs, “Just another bad day,” weak smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. Her voice is all thick and sluggish; Harry wishes he could personally caress her larynx, however disturbed that may be. He doesn’t care.

He won’t nag about quitting her job—he won’t. Not out loud anyway. But it’s hard when there’s an absolute certainty of someone’s happiness increasing tenfold… but they won’t allow it. Harry can’t bear seeing her like this so often—not when he’s sure it could all be fixed. 

Especially after the plate debacle.

I’m not happy—her words echo around his skull like a reverberating clang to the head. The words escaped during a moment of vulnerability, an admission never likely to be reiterated under more controlled circumstances. But Y/N had reached the end of her tether, her ability to cope tested beyond its capabilities, and Harry has become aware that she’s never really, truly comfortable within her own skin; living, working, existing the way she does. 

They’d half discussed it, a few weeks ago, and Y/N had been better immediately afterwards but then… as time passed and her insecurities remained festering, their conversation may as well have never happened.

“I’m sorry,” he presses a kiss to her knee, “wish I could make it all better.” Wish you would let me. 

“You do.” It makes her smile—albeit, sadly—to see Harry so dedicated to the way he sponges his mouth against her body. Over her knee, up her thigh, along the wrist that sits heavily in her lap. 

“Let me take proper care of you tonight.” A verbal switch that turns Y/N’s brain to mush the moment Harry flicks it. “Get you out of that cruel head of yours.” As he dots kisses across the palm of her hand and he whispers against the sensitive skin. “Pretty, but cruel.” 

“Mm,” Y/N quivers against his touch, overwhelmed by the heat that flushes her cheeks. “Need you.” It almost comes out as a sob, eyes filling with desperation as Harry’s kisses send lightning strikes down her spine, standing the hairs of her arms on end.

He pushes up a little, gaining enough height to look into her eyes as he shushes her gently. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” The sofa cushions give way as Harry takes Y/N’s spot, manoeuvring her onto his lap and coaxing her face into his neck. “You’ve got me.” Feeling the slope of her nose press so solidly makes Harry feel incomplete without it—like her weight is always meant to be glued to him this way.

He gives her a moment, a cuddle that he knows she’s needed, whispering promises of a good, good night. “Make you feel light as a feather, yeah?” But when it’s time to pry her away from the security of his hold, she grumbles and whines—unable to see the whole picture when life is so warm and cosy like this.

Harry’s not harsh with her; it’s not the time, but he still knows best. “Come on, baby, you know how this goes,” cupping his hands underneath her armpits as though she’s a big toddler and guiding her down to the floor—to the rug she loves so much. 

“That’s it—kneel down, f’me.” His thumb brushes the apple of her cheek, smoothing over the skin with adoration. “Such a good girl,” he smiles, lips stretching softly. Y/N leans into his palm, gentle breaths funnelling through her nostrils and into his lap. Her body relaxes, slumping unconsciously to lean against Harry’s knees as the weight of her head begs to be supported by his thighs.

“You trust me, don’t you?” The words dance their way into Y/N’s ears, slowly; unhurried. She takes a moment to register, but when she does, she nods—movements lagging and heavy.

“Yes, Sir,” she whispers, unaware of her own volition—seemingly out of control but content to cling onto the feeling. 

Harry’s lips quirk, top teeth rolling his bottom lip into his mouth to curb a grin. He’s missed her—this submission; the ease in which their hearts settle into when they both fulfil their respective roles. He’s unsure, right now, why Y/N is giving in tonight—when she’s been hellbent on pretending Harry’s control doesn’t smooth every worry line from her pretty face—when she’s been denying it to herself despite the truth lingering murkily between them; unacknowledged. He supposes her day really must have been bad.

But he won’t question it yet, not when the opportunity lies so openly in front of him. To make her happy again, if just for an evening. To prove to himself that the issue doesn’t lie within a place he’s found himself worrying about recently—a more vain, shallow insecurity that he’s admittedly never pondered upon before. 

He hums, thumb dipping lower to tease across her plush bottom lip, back up to her cheek, and down again. Y/N wants to open her mouth, tongue lingering just behind her lips evidently. She’s waiting to be told, waiting to be allowed—it stirs up something thick in Harry’s abdomen. He dips his digit past her eager mouth, pressing down on her tongue with intention. Her breath hits him heavily, a sigh of relief and of placidity.

“Just need something to suck on, I think.” 

It’s a connection he’s made—like handing a lollipop to a child to make them smile—that if Y/N could permanently have him in her mouth… she probably would. Not too dissimilar to a candied treat, in her eyes. Something to concentrate on, to feel fill her mouth, to be forced to focus on her breathing and forget about the world around her.

She nods into his hand, smaller fingers trying to burrow into the skin just above his knees. He’s wearing loose athletic shorts—comfortably manspreading—the feel of his little hairs and the warmth of his body keeping Y/N tethered to the ground.

Harry covers one of her hands with his free one, squeezing gently to convey an unspoken semblance of priority. Of his desire to only do what will make her feel better. And of his appreciation of her trust; believing so deeply in him to do what’s best for her.

It’s why he feels happy to pull his thumb from Y/N’s mouth and tug the elastic waistband of his shorts down. To let his hardening cock fatten up for her, eager to guide it past her awaiting lips as he smooths over her brow.

“Precious doll. Stop thinking, yeah? Let Daddy keep you safe.”

Her breaths hit his velvety skin, warm through her nostrils as she sighs an exhale of relief. Harry’s lashes flutter when she rolls her tongue along the underside of him, making all the effort to not twitch his hips up and into her mouth. He smooths a hand over her crown, heavy lids fighting to stay open as he admires the softness of her own as they rest shut. 

Y/N’s movements are sluggish—minimal—as her cheek smushes into the meat of Harry’s thigh, still half-concealed by his shorts. A light hand wraps around his cock, smaller digits and tired state of mind failing to provide much pressure but Harry doesn’t care. Harry thinks Y/N could blow streams of air on him and he’d still be besotted.

She’s falling asleep—usually nothing to be proud of—but the lax of her limbs is precisely her dominant’s greatest achievement. “Are you tired, baby?” Y/N shakes her head but Harry exhales a laugh. “Yes, you are,” he murmurs. “It’s okay, you can sleep,” lips forming around the permissions gently, large palm flattening over the top of her head, sending tiny sparks down her spine. She wants to nuzzle into him like a dog receiving scratches, being loved on and handled with care.

“You wanna stay down there?” Not for his own pleasure but for hers. Her contentment. Y/N nods, lips wet and swollen around him. “S’it comfy for you? Okay on your knees?”

“Mhm,” she hums, shuffling in even closer, free hand looping around the back of his calf. Harry finds himself swallowing a yawn at the sight of her so peaceful below him, finger dancing across her hairline and rubbing along the shell of her earlobe. 

Eventually his eyes close too, his hands comfortable in her hair, as they give their consciousness up for a moment of rest.

It’s no more than an hour later when Harry lets the responsibility wake him back up. He tucks himself away from where he’s slipped from Y/N’s pouty mouth; her back is slumped so dreadfully that Harry immediately curses himself for letting her stay on the wretched floor.

It disturbs Y/N, hauling her into his arms, but Harry rubs magical circles into her back—wondrous enough to elicit purrs out of her if she were capable of making such sounds. But she’s hardly opened her eyes before Harry decides to blow cool air across her face, completely unprovoked in his mischief.

“Hey!” It comes out as a girlish grunt, a discombobulated huff. Harry’s grinning at the sight of her chin trying to crawl into her neck. And it only entertains him further to curl his fingers into her sides and squeeze mercilessly.

“Ah–ah! Ha—Harry!” Cartoonishly, her eyes bulge out of her head, any last traces of sleep dispersing completely as Y/N’s body goes into flight mode—or attempts to, at least. Harry’s got her firmly stuck atop his lap, wriggling digits for his squirming girl. “St—op!”

“Ahh,” the bastard sounds reminiscent, ceasing his movements to bask in the glow of her giggles, “missed my smiley girl.”

But the smile disappears… and a frown replaces it, suddenly aimed towards his lap.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Harry dips down, index finger resting beneath her chin to coax it up and level with his own.

Y/N’s eyes are dull in colour, lacking their usual charm. “I’m sorry for being miserable all the time.”

“Oh—no, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, darling. Don’t apologise for having emotions, that’s silly,” and he squeezes her again, perhaps somewhat cruelly, just to see her teeth behind her lips as she yelps involuntarily.

It is silly, but Y/N forever holds an awareness of how much she may be burdening a person. “Just like making you smile… s’my job.” He bites his lip to hide his own smile, and it has the desired effect—Y/N’s own face copying him perfectly—only far cuter, in Harry’s eyes.

Then he dances his fingers up her side with pretend innocence, “Didn’t get to fuck you proper ‘cause you fell asleep on me.”

Her smile vanishes again but for a much better reason. And, yeah, she would like that—she really would—despite her demeanour suggesting she might rather be mauled to death by wild cats. Still so shy, Harry must think.

“Think I’d like to spread you out on the rug, hm? How’s that sound?”

It sounds like bliss. It sounds like her cunt cries out in pleasure, completely untouched, just from the idea. “Yeah,” she breathes, nodding.

Lips curl like devil’s horns, “Yeah? Wha’s that mean, dummy?”

“Dummy?!” It comes out squeaky, and a little petulant, if the way she thuds her fists against Harry’s chest is anything to go by. He raises his eyebrows at her, somewhat surprised, if not slightly impassive, at the way she talks back to him.

“Yeah, dummy,” taking her wrists and decorating them with his fingers as they curl all the way around. He pulls them off of his body and holds them by her shoulders. “Dumb for my cock and I haven’t even put it in you yet.”

Her hips grind down without her permission—the slightest rut fuelled by habit—one she never wishes to kick. “Harry—”

“—Nope,” he cuts off her whine, pulling her arms behind her back like he’s done it a thousand times before—he has.

“Sir,” it falls too quietly from her lips, and it’s not really the word he wanted but he’ll let it slide. 

“What? What could my darling possibly want? Hm?”

He’s being mean now. He was so sweet earlier but now he’s just mean. It makes her feel deliciously delirious but still Y/N wants to act out just on principle. But she doesn’t, because she’s a good girl, and she’s been bad enough as of late. “Please, make it better. Need you to make it better, Sir.”

“Yeah, you do. Need me,” his voice is gruff, a terse exhale as he stands up with Y/N’s thighs wrapped around his waist and lowers them both down onto the shaggy rug. It brushes against her clothes, all soft and fluffy—he can’t wait to see it swallow her naked skin. All they’re missing is a roaring fireplace.

“Need you,” she nods, agreeing, echoing his words. The heat that started to bubble up before their spontaneous nap roils fervently in her abdomen once more, crashing wave after wave against her cunt—her clit, where she’s sure she can feel her heart beating.

Harry grunts, voice deep with anticipation, “Let’s get these clothes off,” murmuring more to himself than anyone else, deft fingers already undoing the buttons of Y/N’s blouse—faster than she ever can. Her body feels heavy with fatigue, the cushioning of the rug coaxing her up and away into that fuzzy space alarmingly fast, as she watches the beautiful man above her take care over the state of her undress. He doesn’t rip and tear, he smooths and folds, kind enough to rub her arms and legs as he goes.

Y/N almost wishes he’d run ladders through her tights—though she’d be grateful he doesn’t the next day—to speed the process up and get him all pretty leaning over her. Her bare shoulders are stroked by the rug; closing her eyes almost lets her imagine she’s laying in a meadow, grass kissing her skin. And when her legs are made bare too, that’s when she remembers where she really is, and knocks her knees together like something bashful. Harry folds her tights, and her socks, and Y/N wishes she could push herself up and kiss him for it.

But then he rests his palms atop the curving joints, pulling them back open slowly to admire the sit of her knickers, pressing tight against her pussy, lips so clearly soft and swollen even through the cotton. He pushes her knees up and his grip slips down to the underside, simply looking at her for a moment or two. Y/N whines, lying there in her bra and panties and being ogled at.

“Needy, needy,” Harry tuts, dropping his hands on either side of her head and letting her knees sling over his shoulders. “Needy girl with a fussy pussy, is that right?” She stares at him dumbly, only really able to process how pretty he looks. His words pass straight through her. So he dances a hand down her chest, her stomach, palm pressing into her mound as his thumb swipes over her covered clit.

“I said, is that right?” he goads over Y/N’s gasp.

“Ye—yes. Always right, y’always right,” she babbles, cheek turning into the rug. The weight of his thumb and that tiny flick is enough to make her clit throb.

“Mm, Daddy’s always right, you’re so smart, baby.” He taps so lightly, so mockingly, with the pad of his thumb—simply feeling. It makes her jolt anyhow, so pent up—at Harry’s complete disposal like his mere presence turns her into one of Pavlov’s dogs… and it’s not her mouth that drools.

“Let me have a good look at you,” his tone doesn’t leave room for interpretation. He will have a good look at her. “Fuckin’ missed you, gorgeous’,” as he tugs the gusset of her panties to the side—hardly patient enough to remove her legs from his shoulders and spend all that time wriggling the material down. Y/N isn’t sure if he’s talking to her or her cunt. “Been hiding from me.” Harry’s eyes flit up to hers and despite the thick layer of fog that floats around her brain, Y/N still has the mind to avert her gaze—embarrassed.

She’s not been hiding. That would be childish.

“I want you to come for me, okay?” Head dipping lower and lower until Y/N can feel his breaths tickling her bare skin. “I don’t want you to stop coming.” And then he meets her cunt, tongue laving over her drippy hole but not dipping inside, dragging her arousal up and over her clit one long, big swipe. Y/N makes a much louder noise than she’d be happy about in any other circumstance, with any sense of control over her actions. But she has no power over her mouth as it cries out, legs tightening around Harry’s head already and he’s barely started a thing.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she thinks it unwise to come quickly, considering Harry’s insatiable humming against her cunt, and his unlikely proclivity to want to stop. But he’s always unravelled her overwhelmingly fast—always managed to pull an orgasm out of her without even trying.

Sweat beads at the base of her spine, hands struggling to know what to do with themselves. She rests them either side of her head, and then they flinch up and off the floor when Harry sucks her clit into his mouth, the crude sounds making the hairs on her arms stand on end. She wants to bury her digits into his soft hair and tug for stability, but she sobs out at the suction, and the pressure of a finger circling her hole, and her arms fall heavy above her head.

Her back arches, body writhing far too much for Harry to focus as his forearm falls heavily over her stomach, fingertips mindlessly rooting under the wire of her bra. He pushes the cups up and over her tits, squeezing a palmful as he goes. His right hand concentrates where it matters, middle and ring fingers nestling inside of her easily and curling just right.

Y/N sobs, hand clambering to thud over Harry’s own that plays with her breasts. She squeezes him, mouth lagging behind her brain as her orgasm races towards her. “Harry!” Head thrown back against the rug, cushioned by the soft strands. He hums, and Y/N can’t see his face but she knows he looks smug. He hums and it tips her over the edge, vibrations sizzling off of his tongue and through her clit that he sucks and drools over as his fingers pump steadily. 

And he doesn’t stop—not that Y/N had expected him to but it’s suddenly a lot harder to deal with as her cunt clenches and throbs, resigned already under his intense ministrations. “Oh my god!” Too weak to lift her head up but she tries, only to be met with Harry’s devastating, smiling eyes tracking her every movement. She falls back again, frantic hands pushing at his forehead. “Please.”

He lifts up, chin glistening and mouth a pretty pink, “Mm.” Even gulping down oxygen looks sexy when he does it. Perfectly composed, lips curled up in satisfaction. “Not done, baby. W’na make you fucking gush,” and Y/N’s face curls up in a preemptive cry as Harry hauls himself up to her and smears a dismantling kiss. Her noises are muffled, turned into new ones with the feel of his mouth on hers, the taste on his tongue that he so generously shares, rubbing against hers like it might make her orgasm again.

A creeping hand wraps around her throat, the other still dedicated to the slick place between her thighs and the pressure makes Y/N’s lashes flutter, brows tugging towards the centre of her face. Harry smiles above her, serious about his word—he wants to make her gush around him, his index finger teasing the side of his middle that rubs so deliciously against the front of Y/N’s walls—pinky slapping lewdly in the crease of her thigh with every thrust in and out.

“I can’t,” she swallows, tough to talk with the weight of Harry’s palm against her neck.

“Yeahhh, you can,” he’s sure of it. Too cocky but Y/N’s cunt doesn’t seem to mind, clenching as though it wants to keep Harry’s fingers inside of her forever. “My good girl, yeah? Gonna get me all wet, aren’t ya.” Her jaw slackens, trembling fingers curling around his wrist as he digs into the sides of her neck and his fingers work tirelessly. 

“Daddy! Pl—ple—oh!” Nothing very intelligible tumbles from her lips, mouth wide with eyes to match, rendered statuesquely still with the pleasure that overwhelms. And then she starts trembling, every curl of Harry’s fingers making her abdomen coil tighter and tighter. “Ah—I—” Every pulse makes him all the more confident, unfurling his hand from around her neck to trail southwards and rub disrespectfully across her clit.

Y/N doesn’t know what to do—the pressure builds—it’s all consuming and overpowering, she wants to thrash and scream and run from the feeling. But she also wants to dive head first into it and spend the rest of her days there.

“Hey, look at me. Look at me, sweetheart—good girl,” their eyes lock and it makes it so much worse. He pushes into her button with tantalising precision, circling and pinching, leaning over to spit a filthy string of saliva onto the mess she’s already made. “Come, baby. Make a mess all over me,” his green eyes are so void of iris, black pupils large enough to reflect Y/N’s own image as he groans, “You can do that, can’t you?”

Everything’s upside down, she shakes her head when she should be nodding because it’s all too much and she’s crying as it happens, a tiny gush pushing out from around Harry’s fingers as he fucks her through it, moaning alongside her sobs. She soaks his shorts and drips down the insides of her thighs—shaking with enough force to displace Harry’s hand as her orgasm lingers for longer than she’s ever known.

Harry dips down and mouths over her empty hole, desperate to make her even wetter, lapping at her arousal like he may never get the chance to do so again. “Atta—fucking—girl,” not moving back for a second, words muffled. “Did so well. I knew you would.”

And he doesn’t fucking stop.

Y/N’s body aches lusciously when she gets up. She feels heavy and thick like honeycomb, and waking up with Harry’s thick biceps caging her in—the rise and fall of his chest against her back serving as the perfect metronome—had been so sorely missed she could’ve cried tears of relief.

In her delirium of the night previous, she’d failed to process the sounds of Harry on the phone, making the executive decision that she was too sick to come in. He only reminded her when she tried to wriggle out of his immovable grip to get ready. But then Harry’s own alarm had gone off and she was trailing behind him to the bathroom anyway, eyes shaped like hearts and her invisible tail curling around his legs.

Despite her best attempts, he hadn’t let her wrap her silky palms around him whilst they showered—endeared smile making her flush irregardless of their bare skin brushing against one another. 

She watches him get dressed, and watches each chew and swallow of his breakfast, resting her head in the palm of her hand like a true renaissance vision. And then she remembers something she’s been meaning to let him know, foggy head stumbling over a few words as she tries to piece them together.

“Um, Harry?”

He smiles to himself at the sound of her ambivalence. She sits next to him at the kitchen island with the most adorable crinkle in her nose. “Yes?”

“Uhh…” apparently her fingers are suddenly extremely fascinating. “I’m going on a long weekend trip with Niall on Friday. Is… is that okay?”

“Yeah, yes, of course that’s okay.” He frowns, “Have I ever made you feel like it wasn’t?”

She jumps, twitching on her stool like a fretful mouse. “No! No, I’m sorry, no you haven’t. I don’t know why—”

“You’re alright,” he knocks his knuckle under her chin affectionately. “You want some help packing?”

God, yes. “Would you mind?” She hates packing.

Harry could already make that assumption for himself—starting to imagine a scene of her sitting pretty on her bed, cross-legged, whilst he does it all for her. “Not at all,” tipping his head back to swig the rest of his coffee before leaning over to press a wet kiss to her cheek. 

Y/N can’t help but giggle. “Thanks,” and then she starts twitching again, with giddiness this time, hands coming out in front of her as she gestures. “I’ll make you that curry you like for dinner. Ready for you when you walk through the door, I promise!” She grins all beautifully and it makes Harry’s heart stutter in his chest—the elation on her face, the excitement. He kisses her again, pasting a few pecks to the corner of her mouth. “I promise,” as she turns to catch his lips with a smile, hands clenching into happy fists against his warm chest.

“Have a good day, sweetheart. No tears, yeah?”

She nods bashfully, following him to the front door. “No tears.”

#harry styles #mutually beneficial #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shots #domrry #dom!harry #harry styles fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #writer #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurbs

[steveandbuckysdaughter]

I am so so so so so TIRED to see people fatshaming two perfectly healthy girls because they have round faces. It’s disgusting.

The actresses of Mai and Azula are on point for their roles. Hell, if they were chosen there must be a reason, it’s not like there’s no Asian actresses out there they could choose from.

People can’t accept that Azula can have a characterization beyond “crazy and sadist sicko”. She’s a perfectionist. She’s an asset to her father. She’s jealous of Zuko’s birthright and of how it might take what she has away. Those are things that OG Azula too had. The only difference is that we actually see it in season one and have a background on her, rather than writing it in a rant. And what has been added only makes her a more complex character, given the change in the family dynamic as well.

And Mai? The actress is talented, she delivers a good Mai, and does justice to the character. She’s 17 and at the beginning of her career, of course it won’t be perfect. She gets to grow. Thing is, you guys won’t let her, because a square jaw scares you so flipping bad that you feel the need to shame her for it.

Everyone is a body positivity advocate until a girl with a rounder face shape is cast as a character in a live action you are NOT forced to watch? Seriously?

I’ve seen so many people on the internet calling them all sort of names, fatshaming them, insulting their work without even focusing on the acting. And I’m like, what’s to fatshame there? Let me tell you: nothing.

If I have to put it through your thick head like this, so be it. Even though I hate talking about and comparing bodies.

This below is a picture of Azula’s actress.

She has the face card, she has the jawline, and she has a fit, enviable body. And you still have the audacity to “fat-shame” her?

These two pictures are in costume. Again, face card and an enviable body. She even has the expression for Azula. You see a girl with a rounder shape of face and will automatically go “no she’s too cute to be Azula!!” Dude. No. When she will actually deliver as the crazy girl we know, she will devour. She will, and you all will switch back because that’s what you are, slimy switchers.

And now, onto Mai’s actress, a very beautiful girl with talent and looks. She is literally so pretty, and you dare hate on her? You dare shame her for how she looks? From what I’ve heard she’s a minor, too, so this makes you 100000% more slimy and undeserving of any sympathy in my book.

This is her, this is the girl.

She’s literally so pretty. Maybe she hasn’t got the same facial structure of Mai, but she delivered all her lines she had in the little screen time and with the discutibile scenes she was given. She was good. But you see a square jaw, a rounder shape of face, and are immediately triggered.

And you can’t even use the stupid argument of “she’s fat”, because this is literally her.

A very normal, very healthy young woman. Not as skinny as OG Mai? So what? She’s still a fricking thin girl. Nowhere as “fat” as you haters make her to be.

I shouldn’t have to explain common sense and basic decency to grown adults, and yet here we are.

This is honestly so frustrating. In the year of 2024 you can’t possibly justify insulting girls like this, with no shame. It’s absolutely idiotic and shows very a big lack of brain cells. I see you, haters, behind your device, with your insecurities and shame for yourself, laughing at two girls who made it farther than you ever will. You can critique the acting once you’ve seen it in full potential. Until then, shut your tramp up. This is very small dick energy of you.

I don’t see why I should treat you with kindness when you are so eager to make this kind of jokes about pretty and in shape girls you are very obviously jealous of. Go touch some grass, incels.

#I hope anyone who sees this copies the link and sends it to whatever bitch-ass they see commenting this crap #Mai #ATLA mai #Azula #ATLA Azula #lizzy yu #Thalia Tran #NATLA #ATLA #avatar the last airbender netflix #netflix avatar the last airbender #netflix avatar #avatar the legend of aang #avatar the last airbender #body positivity #rant #Ross rants

[froggywritesstuff]

the least judgmental demon in hell | angel dust

ship/pairing: Angel Dust x male!reader (featuring Fat Nuggets)

fandom: Hazbin Hotel

request: Could you possibly do Angel dust x Male!reader? Possibly soft/comfort where Angel dust attempts to comfort the reader after a meltdown or something similar?

warnings: mentions of dead bodies and murder, mentions of harassment towards the reader, mentions of sex, swearing (it's Hazbin Hotel so...), crying, anxiety, feeling overwhelmed, meltdowns, pet names (reader gets called baby multiple times), ooc Angel?, kinda rushed the ending, not entirely proofread 

word count: 1232

A/N: fem readers DNI, Angel Dust is a nwlnw character. I wrote in Fat Nuggets while I was editing so apologies if the writing doesn't flow as much. friendly reminder to not compare trauma :)

Hell isn't the most mental health friendly place to be. Like anyone with common sense, you're not unaware of that, and though not on your own terms, you've gotten used to it. Though it's useless, that doesn't stop you from wishing it was different some days. Wishing that maybe on your walks to the hotel you wouldn't trip over a dead body, or get harassed by other sinners, or witness a violent murder or very graphic sex scene. You were grateful that some days were better than others. However, today was not one of those days. And after an entire week of shitty days, it was too much for you.

You were on the edge of tears when you entered the hotel, ready to have a good cry in your room while hopefully cuddling with your boyfriend, but fate had other plans. More accurately, Charlie had other plans. You never allowed yourself to feel angry with Charlie. After all she had done for you, and all the other hotel patrons, working tirelessly for what seemed like a hopeless cause. However you did allow yourself to feel upset with her bad timing.

Barely a second after you returned to the hotel, she dragged you over to the lounge, rambling about one of her new trust exercises she'd come up with. Normally, Charlie would've been able to sense something was up with you in seconds, but she was clearly driven by her inspiration, too excited to slow down.

Your hands fidgeted together, your legs bouncing up and down as Charlie explained her idea. You tried to pay attention, you truly did. But you could barely even comprehend a word she was saying. Everything was too loud and your head felt like it was gonna explode.

"Hey," you felt a hand on your shoulder and looked up to your side, meeting the black, white and pink eyes of Angel. You calmed slightly at the touch of his hand, and you were able to focus on his voice, "You ok?"

You nodded. You knew he could tell you weren't ok in the slightest. He was more than familiar with faking smiles and bottling up feelings. Luckily for you, he didn't pry, instead choosing to stay close and keep an eye on you, figuring you'd much rather prefer to vent or cry to him in private.

When Charlie finished explaining her idea, she met your eyes and gestured for you to stand. A wave of stress hit you, and you did your best to hide it as you stood up, moving to stand beside her in front of everyone. You tried to focus on what she was telling you, you really did, but the overwhelming tightening in your chest paired with multiple pairs of eyes on you made it impossible. Surprisingly, you felt a million times worse when she stopped talking. You don't think she had stopped talking since you walked in the room, so her silence meant she was expecting you to start talking. 

You looked around the room, your breaths getting shallower with every second. Charlie gently placed her hand on your shoulder, a concerned look on her face. She asked if you were ok, her voice quiet so only you could hear. You don't remember clearly, but you're pretty sure you shook your head before apologising and excusing yourself. Voices called out to you in concern as you sped up the stairs, making your way to your room as quickly as possible.

You closed the door behind you, leaning your back against it and sliding down to the floor. Tears streamed from your eyes while you held your head in your hands, trying to take deep breaths to calm yourself.

A knock sounded at the door, and you quickly wiped your tears away and cleared your throat, "Wh-who is it?"

"It's me." you recognised Angel's voice, his tone quieter than usual, "Can I come in?"

You jumped to your feet and rushed to the door, opening it and pulling Angel in. He was quick to hold you close, wrapping his arms around you, running his hands up and down your back to calm you.

"Just breathe baby," he whispered soothingly, his voice like music to your ears, "You're gonna be ok, I've got you."

Your breathing calmed down after a while, not before Angel lifted you off your feet - rather easily considering his height. He shut the door and gently sat you down on your bed, his hold on you never wavering as he sat beside you.

"You feelin' a little better?"

Shrugging, you pulled out of the hug, nodding your head yes.

Two of Angel's hands cupped your face gently, his thumbs wiping your tears away, while another set of hands rested on your shoulders, rubbing them softly, "You wanna talk about it?"

That would be harder to do than just breathing. You thought you were being over dramatic, getting so upset over small things every sinner goes through. Especially when you were sitting in front of Angel Dust. It's not that you doubted his love for you, but there was a small part in the back of your mind making you think he'd belittle your feelings and tell you that you were getting worked up over nothing.

"I dunno," you shrugged, "It's silly."

"Hey," Angel lifted your head slightly, getting you to meet his eyes, "You don't have to tell me if you don't wanna, but clearly it's not that silly if it's got you cryin'." you stayed quiet, and Angel could tell you were overthinking this, "Baby, you know me. I'll listen to you. I won't judge you for nothin'."

You hesitated, and Angel stood up from the bed, kissing your cheek before he stood to his full height, "Wait here," he said, hurrying out of your room and into the hallways until you couldn't see him anymore. Thankfully, you weren't alone for too long, and he arrived soon after he left, entering your room with Fat Nuggets in his arms.

You lit up at the sight of him, smiling widely when Angel sat back on the bed and placed him in your lap.

"If you're nervous, you can tell him." he pet Fat Nuggets on the head, "He's the least judgmental demon in Hell."

A soft laugh left your lips at his words. Fat Nuggets sat himself down on your lap as you pet him. You looked up at Angel, heart warming at his reassuring smile. Still slightly hesitant, you proceeded to explain everything that led up to your meltdown. And while you mainly directed it at Fat Nuggets, Angel listened intently, giving you his full attention just like he said he would. When you were finished talking, Angel wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you - and Fat Nuggets into a hug.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah..."

"Good. And it's not dumb, baby. When you don't talk about these things, they just add up and get overwhelming. You know you can always talk to me about anything, right?"

You nodded, before resting your head in the crook of his neck, "Thank you, Angel."

“Eh, it was nothin’.” he chuckled softly, before he pulled away from the hug to look you in the eyes, “I love you so much.”

You smiled. Both his words and the caring smile on his face making your heart swell, “I love you too.”

#angel dust x male reader #hazbin angel dust #angel dust x reader #hazbin hotel angel dust #angel dust #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x male reader #fat nuggets #male reader #fanfiction #froggywritesstuff #anon #ask #x reader #x male reader #angel dust x you #gay #mlm #vivziepop #vivzieverse #hellaverse

[biribaa]

I saw you were taking requests for The Amazing Digital Circus, so if you want can you please write Headcannons for Kinger, Caine, and a character of your choice x a reader who’s abstracting in front of them

Also remember to drink lots of water and to take breaks!

-🧪Anon

Kinger, Caine and Ragatha x reader who's abstracting in front of them

I appreciate your kindness but I'm a computer, I think water is one of the things I need to "drink" less and prevent more.

TW/CW: AHH... Spoilers, also angst. Reader does get abstracted in all scenarios cuz we still dont rlly know if someone can be saved from getting abstracted

Kinger

Imagine lost your partners TWICE. Lolololol loser/J

Everything seems to occur in slow motion from Kinger's point of view, a heart he once had is somehow beating against his body. He prays to any god on this earth, be it real or not, or even Caine maybe, that this nightmare isn't happening again to him. Please, everyone, but not you.

Kinger tries to do everything so his lover don't reach the great peak of their insanity, even though he's not very good at it, knowing his personality. But trust me when I said, he tried. Who cares if he will get all glitched for touching your form, he needs you.

He never thought he would live another nightmare inside a nightmare. And in seconds that felt like painful hours to Kinger, here "you" are, a noisy form covered in eyes that flash in different colors. Your skin (if we can call it skin) moves abruptly as if it were a bag full of enraged cats. And, god, how he wished it was him instead.

Things are resolved by the talking human jaw, and yet the silence in Kinger's little pillow fort is no longer comforting as it once was. Silence now makes the small chess piece itch in agony. Silence that could be enjoyed with your presence, with holding your hand or dancing with you, and chat about random stuff he and you knows. The feeling of missing someone is familiar to him, and yet, it hits him in ways that his years in this circus haven't hit him.

Caine

While Kinger tries to do everything, Caine actually does anything to try saving your corrupted mind, and the lack of power in this situation leaves the digital being in panic. A simple snap of the fingers is not enough, and this information makes him tremble in ways he never thought he would tremble before for a simple human.

You aren't just any character, you are his favorite, the lil' buddy he spoils every hour and that always push a giggle from him. You were his very own star. The show could continue the same without you, Caine was sure of it, but could he? Without a character as entertaining as you in action?

"Of course I can fix them, I am Caine!" It's a phrase that was repeated several times in the presenter's programming, But with every grunt coming from the thing that once was you, it's just a reminder to Caine that he did a horrible job trying to take care of you. There were other characters that were abstracted of course, but... You were special to him. His favorite star. His star.

Caine even feels hesitant to put you in the hole of other characters who were abstract before. He preferred to keep you in a cage away from other people's contact, with no one hurting you and no one hurting you.

He knows, he knows the painful truth that you cannot be considered a sapient being, but even though you are a trace of what you once were, Caine doesn't have the courage to lose you forever.

With the other characters, Caine will act normally, with his loud and lively personality. Only if they analyze Caine close enough, the characters would notice something wrong with him.

And then, sometimes, he just stares at you in the cage. Caine ponders if he should admit the lost of his favorite star, it would be easier, but the pride in his chest screams that there must be some way that he could actually save you from...this.

Ragatha

Somehow, the scene is all silent for her. Ragatha stares at you as if the impossible itself is happening in front of her.

Ragatha holds your hands about to disappear, she caressed what was left from your shoulders, she hurriedly whispers words that would normally calm you down, but nothing can save you from the fate of your sanity, just leaving her with the pain of being glitched.

Of course, she had her other friends like Pomni, but lost you?!

Ragatha thinks she saw everything during her new experience in the digital circus, but something common like losing someone so important was the end of the line for her. You were her darling, her sunshine and her little everything even.

Everything she did sounded slightly more boring and boring without your presence, and Ragatha could do nothing about it. She continues (at least tries) to remain strong after that, still trying to complete the little adventures that Caine gives to the participants. But Ragatha's slow pace and lack of smiles was very noticeable.

The weight on Ragatha's chest is too much, losing someone so sweet and perfect for her in such a horrible way is too much. And the worst part is that Ragatha believes that she could have done something to save you, she could have been with you more often so that your mind didn't fall apart like this. But now, she can do nothing but mourn.

#x reader #canon x reader #reader insert #tadc x reader #tadc ragatha x reader #tadc caine x reader #tadc kinger x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader

[satoruwiki]

Aah!! As the strange anon who requested Naoya. I gotta say I totally agree with these headcanons! You got him perfect lol basically a d**k..unless your super hot, don't speak and magically anticipate exactly what he wants when he wants it...in which case he's slightly less of a d**k. Ooh please do gojo headcanons now I'm addicted haha

lmfao strange anon 😭😭 but fr you’re right tho, naoya would usually be the type to say “you look prettier with your mouth shut, keep it that way”.

♡.°₊Satoru is the type of man to…ˎˊ˗

content: jjk headcanons; half sfw/half nsfw; afab!reader; i love my cutie patootie boo boo bear pookie blue eyed king gojo >.<!!

n/a: i love this man sm, I already kinda did hcs of him before, but they were mostly nsfw, so i really scratched my head to not repeat them as best as i could.

these are my hcs! feel free to agree or disagree :b any request/interaction supporting this post is very much appreciated <3

sfw ver! ୨ৎ

Satoru is the type of man to… have gifting as his love language. Aside from being extra clingy, he’s the type to gift you stuff at least twice a week. They’re mostly things that reminds him of you or that he thinks you’d like (even though he might fail sometimes when it comes to treats, since he has a sweet tooth it may or may not be too sweet for you).

Satoru is the type of man to… act sassy/petty when jealous. Satoru isn’t the type to make a scene (at least not directed to you) or generally be ill-tempered/insecure. However, whenever he sees someone who looks at you in a different way than the others or tries to engage in a conversation with you that seems too intimate to be friendly, Satoru is the type of man to walk up to you and hug you from behind, giving you neck kisses. While you may think him being overly cuddly with you is normal due to his clingy character, Satoru is doing all that on purpose to let whoever is ‘bothering’ you that you already have someone else, with a damn smug smile plastered on his face (and maintaining direct eye contact with the stranger).

giggled and kicked my feet while writing this.

Satoru is the type of man to… try new things for you. So it is more than obvious that Satoru is old money rich. Like this dude was RICH RICH and spoiled rotten since he was child, not to mention that he’s a special grade sorcerer (he basically gets bank as a salary), therefore he’s accustomed to getting the finest things, either for you or for himself. What may seem expensive to you is probably normal for him. That doesn’t mean he’s some type of snob or is condescending about middle and working class. Satoru would be the type of be slightly skeptical when you take him to a ‘not so high-end’ restaurant, but since it was a “spot you knew”, it must be good, right? Satoru would be surprised to know that the food in the less wealthy places is sometimes even better than his common luxurious michelin-starred restaurant.

sounds like a cute trope imo

Satoru is the type of man to… taking pictures of you without you realizing it. It’s a hidden hobby of his, he thinks you look prettier when you’re distracted. Satoru has certain photo albums in his phone gallery that require a password, that is because you’d probably be embarrassed if you ever found out, but he really likes them, in the least creepy way.

Satoru is the type of man to… pretend not to know certain things as long as he has something to approach you with. Despite being good at pretty much everything, Satoru will lie and pretend to be terrible at something you are specifically passionate about so that you can teach him because he loves to see you get excited about sharing your hobbies and likes with others. His subtle way of knowing about you and collecting information he needs for when he wants to ask you out.

nsfw ver! ୨ৎ

Satoru is the type of man to… have public sex. Whether it’s at home or at some expensive restaurant’s washroom, nothing will stop him from pounding his cock balls deep inside you, though the thought of getting caught being freaky in public always gets his adrenaline rushing and his cock throbbing.

Satoru is the type of man to… have you modeling the lingerie he buys for you. He loves to see how excited you are to show him the little lingerie you bought with his card. But he loves it more when you thank him bouncing on his dick.

Satoru is the type of man to… have phone sex with you when he’s away. Due to his work, he has to sometimes to fly across Japan and this can take a few days before he comes back home. Satoru will call you late at night to ask how your day was then ask you to play with yourself, maybe even do a video call so he can see your pretty ‘o’ face.

Satoru is the type of man to… cover you in hickeys. He takes pride in letting everyone know he fucked you real good last night as well as to mark you as his. It also helps to keep other men from you, so he does this pretty often.

Satoru is the type of man to… fuck you in front of a mirror. Satoru likes to fuck you in doggy as well as to see your fucked out face, so he came up with the solution of placing a mirror in front of his bed so he can plunge his cock deep inside your walls just the way he likes and get to see you roll your eyes to the back of your head as he rearranges your guts. He also gets to look at himself and brag a little. (a little narcissistic from him if you ask me lmao)

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk scenarios #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jjk headcanons #headcanon #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #satorugojo #jujutsu satoru #jujutsu kaisen satoru #gojou satoru x you #jjk hcs

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

(to the tune of Avril Lavigne's sk8terboi)

He was a human battering ram.

She was a recon sniper.

Can I make it any more obvious?

Headcannons - Fit for a King - König x fem!OC fanfic

Instead of making a y/n fic, I decided to create an original female character because I ususally write all of my stuff in POVs. Due to posting the chapters often right after I've written them some of the context and the characterization might not be explicit in every single piece, some of the information is only gonna get revealed down the road.

(TW: alcoholism, death, violence)

Karina Müller is almost 30 years old, she served in the Norwegian military from right after school until the death of her brother who was KIA on a mission together. She fell off the wagon after that, feeling responsible for his death and effectively being shunned by her family after that. Her pick of poison was alcohol and it got so bad that she more than once was drunk on the job which led to her getting kicked out.

The years after that she spent getting help, trying to get clean and going back to a civilian life, but the military was what she knew, so the civilian jobs didn't stick and she started to work as a mercenary, now a dry alcoholic. Which might be an issue for some contractors, but KorTac doesn't really bat an eye.

She's a compassionate person who loves to laugh, she's seen enough shit not to take any from her teammates and can stand her ground when faced with any challenge thrown her way. She's still working through some stuff, coming to terms with her past, but she has an optimistic spirit and a strong will.

Even though the Colonel seems scary at first, she learns pretty quickly that he is to be respected in training and on the battlefield, but on a personal level he's really not that bad. The 6'10'' killing machine, Austrian war criminal (insert "what murdeeer?!"-meme here) is quite an anxious person when it comes to basic human interaction.

Shouting orders at his team, stomping his enemies into the ground is more comfortable to him than just talking about mundane stuff with other people, he mostly keeps to himself (except for Horangi because that little shit would never leave him alone). And for the first time in a long time, Müller makes him wish that he could just go up to people and strike up a normal conversation like a normal person (don't we all).

König is 38 years old (we don't know his full name) and has the biggest metalhead dad vibes without actually having any children himself (his favourite band is Death, although he listens to a bunch of different ones, it's also their merch shirt Müller steals in "Are you wearing my t-shirt?").

When he started out in the military, he shaved his long metalhead hair off because that was the way to go back then, but he let it grow back when he was older and already Colonel. He has gauged ears and a plethora of tattoos all over his body because the soft pain of body modifications and working out until he almost passes out are his ways of dealing with his anxiety and stress. His body is a testament to that.

He has a huge scar on the right side of his face from when he got beaten to a pulp by his bullies at school, something he never let happen again after that (five on one was really unfair). His nose has been broken two times and sometimes his tattoos get destroyed by battle injuries, but he doesn't really care about that - or his looks in general. He's a soldier and not a model.

So the reason why he's always wearing the selfmade hood is not the scar. He prefers not to show his feelings to others, staying hidden underneath the mask for his own comfort, even if it makes him scarier also in situations where he doesn't want to be.

(CW: some nsfw headcannons ahead, talk about not wanting to have children) They're both switches, though König is leaning more on the Dom-side while Müller is a sub who likes to brat a little too much, just to see her man falter (for example when she calls him a good boy in random scene #1).

Müller is bisexual, something she discovered when serving in an all-women-taskforce of the Norwegian military (we don't really know about König's sexuality though). She decided a long time ago that she doesn't want to have children (she doesn't see herself leaving service again anytime soon and given her past, she doesn't see herself fit to become a mother), so she got her tubes tied. Which also comes in handy when a certain Colonel's favourite pasttime (well, actually second favourite) is leaving creampies inside her (no 'unexpected pregnancy' trope in this household).

König definitely eats pussy for his own pleasure, begging Müller to let him eat her out in "Sit" or losing a little friendly competition for a sexual favour in "But no funny business" (oh and he definitely steals her panties at any chance he gets). She's totally not opposed to servicing him as well, but the size of his dick makes this a whole endeavour (like seen in "Open wide, Prinzessin").

They match each other's energy pretty well, just going at it like rabbits at every chance they get, which sometimes proves to be difficult as they're sneaking around in secret.

Their arrangement is kind of a fuckbuddy/fwb-situation, they fuck hard and rough, without ever really kissing (the mask stays on), but after a while feelings start to get in the way... After all they do belong together <3

Read more at the Fit for a King - Masterlist or keep an eye out for the AO3 link - coming soon.

#könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig x fmc #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #female oc

[ao3commentoftheday]

I got a response to a post like two weeks ago that I've been thinking about ever since: how do I know whether I'm writing for myself or for others?

Sometimes this is an obvious answer and sometimes it's harder to pin down, especially when so often we're doing both at the same time - at least if we're posting our writing online.

Writing a story is one activity and posting that story to AO3 or tumblr is a different activity. Doing the first one doesn't necessarily mean doing the second. If you go into a story without the intention of showing it to anyone else, then you can feel pretty confident that it's just for you. But what about the times when you go in knowing that the end result will be read by others?

Fandom is a community space. Even when we write something self-indulgent, we often want to share it with others or to hear others tell us they enjoyed our work. That's normal and healthy and makes us an active and participating community member. What's not so healthy is when that desire for feedback becomes the sole driving force behind our writing. If you find yourself only writing in order to get that feedback, then you're most likely writing for others and not for yourself.

But that's also a scenario that lots of people talk about. You've probably heard that before - maybe even from me. What if that's not the issue, and yet you still feel uncertain about who you're really writing for?

That's when you need to start listening to yourself. And I don't just mean check in with your feelings. I mean listen to your own thought processes and reasons for making choices.

Are you developing a character in a direction that you think the fandom would like, even though you don't find that direction particularly interesting?

Are you pulling your punches in your whump or angst scenes because you don't usually write stuff "that heavy" and you don't want to "lose your audience"?

Are you making your smut tamer? Kinkier? Trying to satisfy someone else's idea of a hot scene instead of writing what you'd actually want to read yourself?

The decisions you make around your writing should please you, more often than they don't. If most of your decisions are based on the reaction of your imagined future readers, then you might be happy with the ship or the plotline or the resolution but feel less than satisfied about the smaller bits and pieces that make up the fic.

Give yourself the gift of not posting everything you write. Keep some of it back and just for you. Spend time on those works and really analyze why you're doing what you're doing there - and why you're not doing it in the works you share. Figuring out the difference might help you get a better idea of how to find the best way to reach the only guaranteed audience you ever have: yourself.

#thinky thoughts #I have no idea if this helps or not #but I hope it does?

[howtofightwrite]

I'm writing a scene where a cultivater (chinese martial artists who fights ghosts) falls in a forest and I'm trying to figure out how someone who fights on rough terrain would train to fall. I tried looking at martial art/parkour/stunt man tutorials, but I feel like a lot of the basic techniques (rolling, and slapping the ground to distribute weight) wouldn't work well on uneven ground. I also tried looking at hiking advice but they just say to fall on your pack. Any insight?

Chinese cultivators don’t fall, they choose to reacquaint themselves with the ground.

That sounds like a joke, but the best way to understand Chinese cultivators and Chinese fantasy media is to realize that martial arts are the gateway drug to magic. And that will get you into a lot of trouble if you follow that all the way into Martial Arts Give You Superpowers, which is both the outgrowth of the western understanding of Chinese culture and a trope rife with orientalism. Cultivation seems simple on the surface when you’re watching Chinese media, but it’s more than martial arts, it’s more than religion, it’s more than mythology, (though it is all of those too) it’s a genuine transition into metaphysics that reorients how we understand and interact with the world around us. The concepts we see in cultivation come from real martial arts philosophy that you find in Tai Chi, Shaolin, and most other Chinese martial arts. They come from real religions including Daoism, Buddhism, a healthy dose of Confucianism, general mythology and mysticism from a wide range of subcultures, and, to an extent, Animism. If you aren’t doing your reading with the Eight Immortals, Journey to the West, The Legend of the White Snake, and others then you should dig in. I also really suggest watching the live action C-Dramas whether they’re true Wuxia or more Xianxia idol dramas (and in this case the idol dramas are better because the action is slower) so you can acquaint yourself with the stylized martial arts portrayals, a wide variety of choreography, character archetypes essential to motif based storytelling, and the most important aspect of all—wire work.

Understanding and conceptualizing stunt action done on wires is essential when you’re trying to visualize and create action scenes in any East Asian genre. Your first instinct might be to dismiss the stylized movement as unrealistic (it is) but remember that it’s also genre essential. Hong Kong action cinema has a very specific feel to it that’s very different from the way Western cinema structures and films their fight scenes. Even when you’re writing, you’ll want to find ways to imitate it through your visual imagery on the page.

Probably the best way to contextualize cultivators is that they’re wizards who do martial arts. They’ve learned to transcend the limitations in our understanding of reality through knowledge and study to perform superhuman feats. How superhuman? Well, it gets wild. They can be anywhere from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon/Who Rules the World fly through the trees levels to Shang Tsung’s “I’m going to slam my hell reality into your normal reality because commuting to work is too much of an inconvenience.”

Which is to say, they don’t always fight ghosts. Sometimes they fight other martial artists, sometimes they fight other cultivators, sometimes they fight demons, sometimes they fight gods, and sometimes they fight incredibly overpowered monkeys. They’re often monks living in seclusion on a mountaintop, but not always. Cultivation is more of a state of mind. Anyone can do it if they learn how to absorb spiritual energy from the world around them through meditation and breathing exercises. Gods cultivate. Humans cultivate. Animals cultivate. Remember, the demons and the ghosts cultivate too. Sometimes, your master gets reincarnated as a demon. Sometimes, you do. The amount of wacky spellcasting you can do is dependent on how much energy you’ve cultivated, which is dependent on how old you are and how good at cultivation you are. Using the power means you need to cultivate more energy, the greater the spell or difficult the battle then the more energy is lost.

This is important to the question of: how does a cultivator fall?

Metaphorically? Existentially? Physically?

When we’re talking physically, wire work becomes very important. Think of your cultivator as being on wires. If they have the knowledge and understanding to do it, they can slow their own fall through the air to land harmlessly on the ground or twist over like a cat and launch themselves back off the ground to fly at their opponent in a counter attack. If they have the knowledge and understanding, they can teleport. If they lack the knowledge and understanding or want to trick their opponent, they can hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. If they’re relying on basics, they can also smack the ground to counter and spread out the impact then use the momentum from that fall to roll back onto their feet. They’ll do it no matter what terrain they’re on because it’s a basic technique that’s trained into their foundation to the point it’s a reflexive action. Any force distributed away from, and reducing impact on, important body parts like your spine is better than nothing. It’s better to sacrifice your arm than be paralyzed. At its heart, that’s the point of the technique. If you’re able to walk away with a functioning spine, it’s done its job. Your shoulder hurts? That’s normal. Your arm is sprained or broken? Sucks, but that’s better than the alternative that is paralysis and death. For reference, learning to fall was the first lesson my Wushu instructor ever taught me. It is that basic.

A lot of the time when portraying cultivators in media, the goal is to show them as being beyond the limitations of standard martial artists. How vast the gap is between the cultivator and the average human is dependent on both the setting and the cultivator. So, the average martial artist who possesses superhuman talents but hasn’t dedicated themselves to a life of cultivation and cultivators who are new to the path are going to be on the rung below and more likely to be knocked on their ass. Cultivators in the mid-range are more likely to have crafted or trained in solutions to being knocked on their ass which put them in a less vulnerable position while recovering and empowered/enhanced their martial arts. Cultivators in the top tier are usually straight up masters at spellcasting, if they deign to fight at all. Gravity need not apply. Rember, the time it takes you to hit the ground and roll to your feet is time your opponent has to launch a counter attack or move to a better position. Also, it means you’ve taken your eyes off your opponent. This is bad enough against a normal human opponent. Against another mostly immortal or ancient magic user this risks a terrible outcome.

Cunning and strategy are both as important as skill. Wisdom, knowledge, and hard work outweigh talent and raw potential. You’ll have to decide how esoteric you want to be and what limits you want to set. I really urge you to do this because the danger of power creep is real and especially prominent here. A character’s growth in power is often linked to their growth in character or their arc, as they gain a greater understanding of themselves and the world around them their skill increases. The self-discovery/self-reflection/self-interrogation/intense suffering to reach enlightenment portion is just as important and intrinsic to the martial arts portion of Martial Arts Give You Superpowers. It’s easy to focus on the Superpowers or the Martial Arts parts of the equation and miss the genre necessity of character growth. This growth often happens through heaps of steadily increasing trauma. Or, failing to undergo that by being too powerful and thus unable to progress is the joke like it is in Qi Refining for 3000 Years. (Go to hell, Bai Qiuran, you hilariously overpowered monstrosity.)

The irony is that the trajectory in character growth is the same trajectory the average student experiences when practicing martial arts. The only difference is that the power arc is inflated. This includes overcoming ingrained truths that you believe about yourself, about your own abilities, what you believe yourself to be capable of (both good and bad,) about your biases toward yourself and other people, your biases about reality in general, your understanding of good and evil, the potential upending of right and wrong, and facing the greater complexity found in the world at large. The stripping away of these illusions, coming to terms with uncomfortable realizations in a more complicated world, and the gaining of new understanding and confidence are vital to that growth.

Skill isn’t just represented in the power creep, it’s also found in a character’s sophistication and complexity in their approach to combat and life in general. Their awareness both of themselves and of other people, their ability to read intentions, their predictive abilities, their complexity in initiating their own strategy and tactics while also recognizing and countering the plans of others. It’s their insight into human nature and their cunning. It’s not enough to be powerful. The world is full of powerful people and not so powerful people who have the capacity to be just as dangerous. This isn’t Goku and Freeza slamming into each other while the planet explodes in nine minutes. You also need to be smart. It’s also not about being a better person. It’s about being a self-aware person. A person who is self-actualized. Monkey’s growth is in his awareness of the world around him through his experiences and in approaching problems differently rather than becoming less of a little shit. If you grow up in the West, one of the issues you’re going to face is thinking of these hurdles as materialistic rather than emotional or intellectual.

A lot of Western media misinterprets the concepts of “giving up” as physical sacrifice. One of the popular examples is physically sacrificing the person we love. In order to have enlightenment, we must be separated from them. We can’t physically be with them anymore. Whereas under a Buddhist structure, what we are actually sacrificing is our own ignorance, our own preconceptions, and beliefs that keep the world comfortable. Under this structure, we’re sacrificing our preconceived notions of who our loved one is. The person that we invented when we first met and we must force ourselves to come to terms with who they really are. The outcome of this isn’t necessarily going to be bad, but it’s still painful. The person we think we love could be perfectly wonderful. However, they’re not who we imagined. If we choose to hold onto the illusion we created, to ignore the realization that the illusion is the person that we love, we’ll only end up causing ourselves and our loved one more pain. We must fall in love with them all over again. Coming to terms with that is painful. All pain comes from ignorance. In sacrificing, letting go of, or overcoming our ignorance, we grow.

These are the emotional, intellectual, and spiritual challenges necessary for a cultivator because they allow the cultivator to level up. Yes, level up. Whether this is coming from the influx of gaming culture into media at large or because the concept synergizes with the Buddhist goal of progressing through the Six Realms toward nirvana, leveling up is how a cultivator’s increasing power is often depicted. Of course, once we reach the next level we can’t go back except by falling or failing and are no longer the person we once were. This then gets mixed in with Daoist principles of finding divine understanding by living in harmony with the universe. The more understanding we gain of the world, the more energy we can absorb as a result, but our original goals may be lost or changed in the process. If a character begins their journey on the path of revenge, their newfound contextualization of the situation that caused them immense pain may force them to give that revenge up or find they don’t want revenge anymore.

Failure is also an option and often a common part of the story. These stories usually follow characters through multiple lives and rebirths over hundreds and even thousands of years, especially if they’re also gods. This is the existential fall. The fall to the Dark Side. All our heroes are going to go through it at least once. This is also why a lot of Chinese media ends in tragedy with hope for the next round.

-Michi

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#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #michi answers #how to fight write #martial arts

[cinnamostar]

four dates to fall in love

part one. part two. part three. part four (here). part five (coming soon).

pairing : hyunjin x gn!reader

summary : after a two year long unspoken hatred, hyunjin and you are forced to be costars in a romantic series, but when it comes to filming any of the romance scenes, you both utterly fail and are unable to get through your lines. the director threatens to take your roles away if you two aren't able to get past this within the next week, which spawns the genius idea from both your managers: can you learn to (fake) fall in love in seven dates and save your careers?

wc : 2.7k

cw : actor!au, enemies to lovers ?!, slowburn , not proofread, blood/knife ments (no injury, theyre just cooking lol), emotional vulnerability

a/n : welcome to part four. the slow burn is absolutely slowburning. things are happening. i dont have much to say other than it being hard for me to write, but pls let me know what you think!!!!!! likes and reblogs appreciated!

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“It went well?” Chan exclaimed in shock over your speakerphone.

You hum in agreement, confusion in the forefront of your mind, “Surprisingly, it went better than I could have ever imagined,” a sigh escapes you, “I don’t know, it’s weird.”

“Well, the fact he even apologized caught me off guard in the first place.”

You laugh lightly, “Oh, trust me, I still am having a hard time believing it. It’s been so long of him being an asshole to me, so seeing him like this was… very different. A little scary, if I’m being honest.”

“Yet it still went well even though it was kinda weird?”

“I mean, it was really awkward at the start which was annoying, but I can’t blame him. He genuinely did look like he felt bad, so it probably was hard to be in his position,” you think aloud, “But it was getting too much and he was putting a damper on the mood, so I tried to make him more comfortable, which worked. Then we started talking, and I don’t really know how to say it, but it felt… really nice? It made me realize that maybe I did miss our friendship.”

“Well, you guys did get along really well before everything happened. To be honest, I thought there was something more going on before then,” Chan recalls, “Though, his sudden change made me realize I was way off.”

Your eyebrows furrow at Chan’s comment, “Something more? Like romantic?”

He chuckles from the other end of the line, “Yeah, I thought something was going on between you two. You guys just seemed to click really well, better than any other costar you’ve had in the past, even to this day. Lowkey thought it was going to be a Tom Holland and Zendaya moment.”

“Jesus,” you mutter, “Definitely not that, I never thought of him that way.”

“You say that, but I remember the heart eyes you used to look at him with,” he teases.

“Oh, shut up. I did not. Besides, that’s not what’s important in the present time!”

He rolls his eyes, even though you couldn’t see it, you could feel it in his tone, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say. You’re right though, it is a difficult situation for both of you to be in. Other than it being uncomfortable, how are you feeling about it?”

You let out a heavy sigh, “I mean, part of me is happy to be able to have a normal relationship with him, but… I’m still really mad at him for how he treated me. I don’t think it’s something I can let go of yet.”

“That’s okay. You have time to process all of that, no one is rushing you.”

“I know, but for a moment yesterday, I kinda forgot about all that. I had fun with him, and I want to keep having fun, but then I remember everything and feel so… upset that I am even letting him back into my life, even if it's for a bit.”

“Huh…” Chan muddles over your words for a moment, “That is quite the dilemma. I think you have every right to be upset at him, but I also think it’s okay if you miss your friend. I just think you have to figure out what kind of boundaries you want to set for yourself then. I think you can still have a nice time with him without him earning your forgiveness just yet. He can be a surface level friend or acquaintance until he proves himself trustworthy again.”

“You’re right, but I just didn’t like how easily it slipped my mind. Part of me feels like I should still be more on guard and not as friendly, but he makes that hard too.”

“Y/N, it’ll be okay,” he reassures, “You’ll figure it out, but it’s perfectly fine for you to have fun, while still having boundaries, okay?”

You sigh, still a bit unconvinced by his words, “I guess…”

“I know it’s hard, I can’t imagine what it's like to be in your position, but I promise it will be okay.”

“I’ll believe you just this once!”

“You say that every time, but sure, just this once. Call you tomorrow, alright?”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

It was the next evening, and you were anxiously waiting in your apartment for Hyunjin to arrive. You weren’t sure how today was going to go, and the idea Changbin had for you both today made you nervous, as it felt as a far more intimate setting than the previous dates. Although, you couldn’t entirely argue with his logic. Today, he suggested that you both cooked a simple dinner with each other, the idea being that it would help you both learn how to work together towards a common goal, which was dinner in this case.

Despite you being able to understand the logic behind his idea, it was incredibly intimidating to think about having Hyunjin in your own home, especially considering the sudden change in dynamic in your relationship. Even then, you didn’t just let anyone into your home, as you only ever had your closest friends come over for small hang outs, so this was far outside of your comfort zone, but perhaps that was a good thing. Maybe going out of your comfort zone with Hyunjin would only help you both succeed the next time you found yourselves on set, and perhaps something as intimate as cooking together would help you both ease into your roles.

A knock on the door wakes you from your thoughts, prompting you to shuffle hurriedly towards the door to open it for none other than Hyunjin. He greets you with a gentle smile, bowing his head slightly as you let him in wordlessly. There is an awkwardness that hangs in the atmosphere, indicating that you both were uncomfortable with today’s plans and he, too, was likely struggling to find the right words to say.

You take a deep breath in, almost as if you were catching your breath, “Welcome to my place!” You cringe internally at yourself, unable to handle the intensity of the awkwardness between you two and how poor your attempt was to disperse it.

“It’s really nice!” he compliments, standing in place by the entrance after removing his shoes.

“Thank you,” you respond, “Uhm, just follow me, the kitchen is this way. And all the ingredients are ready for us to use, Changbin had them delivered.”

Hyunjin follows you into the kitchen, his eyes taking in every detail around him, filling him with delight to see how characteristic of you the apartment was, it being a perfect representation of your personality. “What are we making again? I don’t think Changbin filled me in.”

“Oh, we’re just making curry udon! It’s something I’ve made before and it’s not too hard. My bad, I didn’t tell Changbin what we were making which is probably why he didn’t tell you. All I did was send him an ingredient list.”

“I forgot you like cooking,” he replies as he stops in your kitchen, quickly turning to the sink to wash his hands.

You hum in response, washing your hands after him, “I think it can be relaxing, but uh, if you want you can start with chopping the carrots and potatoes? I’ll handle the onion and garlic.” Hyunjin nods and follows your orders without much trouble, or so you think, until you turn around and see him holding the knife in a very precarious and questionable manner. Your eyes widen as you rush towards, “Oh my god, that is not how you should be trying to cut a potato. Have you not chopped a veggie in your entire life?”

He smiles sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders, “Listen, I don’t do this cooking thing often,” a gentle chuckle leaving him as he takes amusement in your concern, his heart thumping over the sudden proximity you both now shared.

“I-,” you sigh with a baffled expression, “Okay, let me just show you because I am not having you accidentally bleeding out all over my counter.” 

“You’re more worried about your counters than me?”

“Shut up,” you suppress a laugh before softly whispering, “Here, just do it like this,” you reach over and lay your hands atop of his without second thought, guiding him on how to position his hands without the risk of injury. Once you’ve become aware of how your bodies are pressed up against each other from the side, you jump away in an instant, “That’s it! That’s all you gotta do.” You’re quick to avoid eye contact with him, turning towards your own cutting board as you chastise yourself for being so careless with him at that moment.

Hyunjin’s face and ears were soon dusted with a soft pink, heat rushing across his body over the interaction that seemed so natural, but manages to mutter out a quiet ‘thank you’ before trying his knife skills out once more. Despite your momentary embarrassment, you are sure to take sneaky peaks at Hyunjin to make sure he was handling himself well. You move on from chopping and turn your attention to seasoning the chicken while Hyunjin was still focused on the vegetables, going at a leisurely place which you much preferred in this case. 

The rest of cooking goes on in silence aside from the occasional instruction or question, small witty jokes, and touches that seemed to linger more than necessary, but perhaps that was your imagination. Once everything was done, you both sat across from each other, admiring the fruits of your shared labor that was now plated in front of you both. 

“It looks really good!” Hyunjin comments enthusiastically, a wide, toothy grin spreading across his face. 

“It does, right? Let’s eat!”

Neither you miss a beat, taking a huge bite of the udon noodles, letting out a delighted groan over just how flavorful the food was. “Woah,” Hyunjin groans out, surprise at how well tonight had gone thus far with the added victory of food, “Holy shit, this is so yummy.”

“Mhmm,” you mumble out between slurping noodles, “This is better than when I make it on my own.”

“It’s the Hyunjin special that you’ve been missing this whole time,” he says matter-of-factly with a smug smile.

“You’re being pretty bold for a guy who just learned how to hold a knife today,” you tease, playfully sticking your tongue out. Your eyes catch each other for a moment between your fits of giggles, time stopping for the briefest second possible before you both avert your eyes out of nerves. What was that? You thought frantically to yourself, suddenly hyper aware of the strange warmth in your stomach that was also accompanied with the feeling of your stomach dropping. It was an uncomfortable feeling, one you didn’t know how to explain or ever experienced before, but you did know you didn’t want that combination of symptoms again for whatever emotion this was. You clear your throat, taking a sip of water as if it would wash away the discomfort, “I guess we are pretty good, huh? Maybe our acting project has hope if we are able to work this well together,” you joke, a very poor, if not disastrous, attempt to alleviate the awkwardness that seemed to follow you everywhere these days.

Your words stab Hyunjin in the heart, the guilt he had once forgotten was knocking at the door of his heart, forcing itself in without his permission. His entire demeanor deflated the moment those words left your lips, his heart writhing at the reminder that the only reason this situation existed was because of him and his blinding stupidity. Yet, here you are, warmly inviting into your home and treating him as if he was an old friend of the past, as if he had never wounded you and he couldn’t help but wonder if he was deserving of any of this. He stood still, gulping down his food before faintly whispering a hushed apology.

“I’m sorry.”

Your head snaps back up, your eyebrows furrowing with worry once you sense the sadness lacing his trembling voice, his head now turned downwards as if he was trying to mask his state. Perhaps the joke was a little too soon, you thought, now it being your turn to feel bad. “Ah, Hyunjin, I’m sorry-” you apologize hurriedly, “It was just a joke, please don’t take it too seriously. I’m sorry.”

He forces a smile, waving his hand as if to tell you to not worry about it, the words at the forefront of his tongue, but caught in his throat due to the heaviness sinking in his chest. Once again, shame paralyzed his body, the warm sensation behind his eyes reminding him to blink, reminding him he shouldn’t be so selfish in his pain when he was the cause of so much discomfort. Was any of this okay? Was any of this right? He wonders to himself, still unable to find forgiveness within himself. 

“Hyunjin,” you speak tenderly, your hand reaching across the table to touch his arm, grounding him back in the present, “I promise, it’s okay.” You knew that last bit was a lie, but it was for his own sake and comfort at this point. His treatment, his behavior, his attitude – none of it was ever okay, but you decided to ignore your own feelings and prioritize his. For the first time in two years, you cared about how he felt, you finally cared how your words harmed him, when before all you ever aimed for was a strike to his heart, but today, you chose to comfort his heart that your words unintentionally wounded. Although, your own heart and conscience briefly argued for a moment, one wanting to tend to his hurt, while the other demanded you let him rot in his misery, insisting he deserved it for what he had put you through. It was a tug-of-war you weren’t enjoying, you had almost wished you two remained in your heated hatred for one another and that nothing ever changed. Despite what your mind screamed at you, you chose to listen to your heart, you chose him over yourself.

He takes a deep breath in, trying to collect himself before speaking, “I just–,” a heavy exhale escapes him, “I’m just sorry. I just feel really, really, really bad for everything, but I also feel like I’m not allowed to feel bad when I was the one to hurt you.”

His eyes met yours, the glassiness of his eyes conveying the depth of his guilt, “Oh, Hyunjin,” you whisper apologetically, “Listen, I won’t lie to you, what you did was shitty. You did hurt me, but that is in the past. You feeling bad about it means you’re a good person, right? It means you’re human and that you care, but I don’t want you to let your guilt overwhelm you either.”

It was a genuine response in a moment of sudden vulnerability, your response taking him aback, but the words temporarily placating his never ending thoughts, “I guess, but… I don’t know if I can forgive myself,” he mumbles.

“You don’t have to yet, but you can learn to eventually,” you reply, “I understand it’s hard, and even I still need more time to do that myself, but I do think you deserve to be kind to yourself.” None of that was a lie, you did truly believe he was deserving of his own compassion, but his culpability helped you see the humanity in him. The spitefulness you once knew him for nowhere to be found, but instead there was only a guilt-ridden man who carried a world of humiliation. “I think I can learn to do so soon, too. Spending time with you helps. Besides, I did miss being friends with you if I’m being honest.”

The last sentence causes him to perk up, a small, satisfied smile playing onto your lips, “Really?” he asks, his ears barely believing your words, but his heart was swelling with hope. His eyes search yours, he can’t help but notice how they glimmer under the soft lowlights of your home, and for some reason, he finds warmth and comfort in them. He knows he can trust you, he knows you are being as candor as possible.

“Really, I mean it.”

“I missed it too.”

“Well, I’ll do my best to learn to trust you again. I’ll learn to forgive you eventually, just for now, it still hurts.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll learn too.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

taglist: @kopikokrunch @icouldntcareless22 @kidrauhlschik @hhwangsmoon @lestayzone @vixensss @cupidcures @sleepyxxhead @pinkpunkdynamite @kaiyaba taglist cut off at 20 people :)

#cinnamostar writes #skz imagines #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz scenarios #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x you #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin fanfic #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #hyunjin fic #hyunjin imagines #skz slowburn

[gatorbites-imagines]

Heyy!! I love your blog and writing sm!!! I was wonderomg if you'd write somethjng with top/dom reader where the reader gets godly aftercare as well.. we need to normalize giving doms aftercare!! and your writing is my greatest comfort, finally someone writes for other than petite fem readers <333

Nanami Kento x male reader

Headcanons

You never specified which character you wanted me to write for, so I just picked one I felt would give amazing aftercare. Also cuz I don’t think many people realize I write for jjk.

Sorry ive been gone for a bit, but to no one’s surprise, classes are exhausting.

There are different kinds of aftercare, so it all really depends on what kind of dynamic you and Nanami have, and what you are in need of after. Nanami being as aware and loving as he is, would have an easy time figuring out what you need.

There might be times where all you need afterwards if to be held or to hold him, to know that he’s there and that Nanami still loves you and that he liked it very much. He is also the kind of person to have set up the different snacks or drinks you could need afterwards.

Knowing Nanami, he would probably even have some kind of small fridge to keep the drinks in, if it’s a cold drink you need to help center yourself after a rougher scene. If it’s a hot drink you need, he would make sure you were alright before going to get it.

Nanami is an efficient man, so it wouldn’t take long before he’s back again, your favorite mug in one hand, and the latest book he has been reading. Sometimes its enough to just sit together as he reads and you sip on whatever drink it is you need, and other times you need to just be held. Luckily for you, Nanami is a big guy, so that can also be done with no issue.

If its been a rougher scene and you need more than just some cuddles and a snack, Nanami would also be very on top of that. There is no way he would let the love of his life feel inadequate or gross about yourself.

There might be times where you think you are a horrible person because of the scenes you two do, or because of how rough you were, which could result in you pulling away or even having dom drop. But Nanami won’t let you sink too far, always pulling you back out of that dark pit before it gets to swallow you whole.

If you needed to cry, there would be no judgement from your lover, and if you just need to be alone, he would let you do that too. But hes gonna be setting up a nice shower or bath for when you are feeling better again.

Nanami has also always been a very honest guy, and believes strongly in communication in a relationship. So if what you needed was verbal reassurance, or to know how he felt, what you did right and what you did wrong, he would give it to you.

Communication wouldn’t just be for you though, since he himself also enjoys talking it over, to make sure you guys are both on the same wavelength and enjoyed it an equal amount. Sometimes talking about it in a more strategic manner could help center you both, and stop any spiraling thoughts or feelings.

It also wouldn’t be beneath Nanami to want to give you a rubdown if you were feeling a bit sore and exhausted. Sometimes its as much for him as it is for you, since it gives him a sense of peace to know that you are there, and that you are comfortable.

He probably has a whole routine he goes through if you are feeling too drained to move, or if you are feeling under the weather. Like wiping you both down before you get into the bath together, where Nanami would lovingly wash your hair and then his own. This is also where he would make sure you both are fine physically, just in case.

Nanami would get out of the bath first, letting you just vege out for a bit, as he goes to clean up the bedroom and get some new sheets and pillows on the bed, and getting out some clean sleep wear for you both.

You may have been the dom/top, but that doesn’t stop Nanami from taking care of you, as its something he loves to do on any day of the week, and if you need it after you guys have spent the night together you won’t hear any complaints.

After getting everything ready, Nanami would go back to help you out of the water, dry you off, and get you into the clothes you are comfortable in, before you two shuffle back to your room. And of course, he’s put the good sheets on the bed.

You’ll get a nice soft blush from him if you compliment him and thank him for all his hard work. He loves taking care of you the most, but that doesn’t mean Nanami doesn’t enjoy being praised and loved on by you too.

All in all, Nanami would know multiple ways to do aftercare, and is perspective enough to figure out what you need before you do. He would also never judge you for any kind of care you might need, as making you comfortable and happy always makes his heart flutter.

#male reader #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #nanami kento x male reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento imagine #nanami kento headcanon #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen headcanon #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagine #jjk headcanon #jjk x male reader #jjk x reader #aftercare #dom male reader #top male reader