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#or hes not been spending time with his sweetie lmao

hoshigray · 4 days

Note

hey love can i request brothers bff cho and how he's just down bad for you 🤍🤍🤍

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: omg wait, i fucks with this baddd

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Choso x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - masturbation (m!) - oral (m! receiving) - tit/breast fucking (m! receiving) - cowgirl position - pet names (baby, darling, honey, sweetie) - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up or get tf up) - implied that reader is big chested - Choso crushing on you hard, lmao - mention of drool/spit.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k

Choso knew better than to be attracted to you, the sibling of his best friend ever.

Your brother and Choso have been buddies for a while, meeting during his part-time job at a burger joint as servers and finding out they have so much in common. Being older siblings, lovers of rock music, and relating to so much together, the two often hung out after work and became pretty good friends. Just two people vibing out in each others’ company, and there was nothing to make this relationship complicated!

“Hey, Choso, I’ve told you about my sister before, right?”

You greeted him with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Choso!”

Well, that is until you came and absolutely rocked Choso’s world.

You were the younger sibling of two; a college senior comes home biweekly to take care of laundry and then drives back up for your education. By your gorgeous face and alluring figure, Choso was struck by your image from the first time his eyes ever laid on you. You were such a kind spirit, always so sweet to him and others surrounding you — you’d want to hang with the boys whenever you had the chance while you were visiting, which was hellish for the brown-haired man.

You’d laugh along with the jokes, making Choso’s heart skip uncontrollably, and the way you’d lean to him when you’re sleepy watching a movie with them pushed the guy on the verge of shutting down. He could never get tired of how you’d say his name; it came out so dear from your lips as if he could be under your spell at any second. And it didn’t help that you’d walk around the house with shorts on, the lower fringes constantly threatening Choso on whether they’d creep up to see the mere crevice of your ass.

As said before, he knew better than siblings of best friends were off limits. However, you were becoming too much for him. It’s been half a year of seeing you, and there has never been a day or night where you haven’t popped up in his head one way or another, particularly when his mind would think of you in the most…lustful ways.

He was spending the night at yours after spending a night out drinking with you and your brother, using the basement bedroom to sleep. Sleep evades him; however, he uses this space to deal with the erection he’s been dying to indulge in this entire night instead. His teeth pull the bottom of his shirt, dark jeans discarded to the floor, and his hand pumps his shaft that’s freed from his boxer briefs.

He throws his head back, reminiscing about you and your outfit from the pub. The way your breasts were tucked in nicely by the window of your bodycon dress, yet the cleavage was too tempting for his eyes not to notice. The dress sculpted your curves dangerously, Choso fighting the urge to put his hand on your hip to feel your clothed skin. And your lipgloss made your lips shine; every time you spoke to him was a test for him not to kiss you right there in front of your brother. It was so cruel how you looked so good for him!

He grunts at the memory, teeth grinding while he strokes his long cock. Precum exuding from the urethra slides down to the base and wets his fingers. “Fuuck, Y/n,” your name is said in choked moans, the horny man fisting himself in a faster motion. Brown eyebrows are trenched, and his abdomen begins to flex. Shit, I’m so close, so cl—

“Choso?”

He never in his life froze still in an instant, and his heart goes to a complete stop, too. No way.

“Ca–…May I come in?”

No words are said from either side, so Choso’s heat immediately shifts to icy cold when he hears the door open, and your frame is all he sees. You’re still wearing the beautiful dress, yet your face is molded into an expression of utter anxiousness. Sweat goes down Choso’s forehead, oh fucking shit!

“I came down to see if you were okay and needed anything,” your eyes were downcast to the floor, chewing on your lips during this awkward situation. “But…I heard you say my name and…”

Oh, it was so over for him. All Choso could do was stare at you in dread, entirely shocked that you saw him masturbate at the thought of you! You were fidgeting with your dress, perplexed about how to handle this predicament, too. He was so done for; not only was he thinking of you, the sibling of his best friend, and using said thoughts of you, but now you are aware of how he pictures you in his fucked up head! Yup, he can never walk into this house again. “S–Sorry, Y/n! I’ll just go and—“

“Can I help?”

Again, his body goes rigid mid-stride of getting off the bed after pulling his underwear up. ….What?

“I mean, can I…help you with that?” You meekly walk into the room and close the door behind you. “I am the one who made you like this, so…I’m okay with it if you are…..”

Choso blinks, too alarmed to make any movements. “But, your brother…” You’re quiet for a few seconds before you spook him by taking steps in his direction. He gulps thickly when your figure crawls on the bed, too close for his brain to comprehend. You take his hand with your soft ones and bring his fingers to your lips to kiss, and his breath hitches when you suck and lick his digits. The boner stuffed in his briefs twitches at the sensation of your tongue running against the underside of his middle finger and sucking on it.

You peer at him, “What about him?” That is what you say before lifting your dress to remove your panties. And just when Choso thought his life was about to be thrown in the gutter, you flipped the script on him again.

In his head, Choso knew he shouldn’t be doing this.

“Mmm…Mmahh! Oh, Choso, you taste so good…”

But in his heart, he couldn’t help but give in to this situation.

You were situated between his legs, ripped him off his briefs for you to suck on his glans freely. Your tinge dances around his cockhead to prompt more come to ooze out of his urethra, and your hand slides up and down to stroke his member. Choso whimpers under your touch, and shivers crawl up his spine as you lick from the base to the tip before sucking hard.

“Fuuck, Y/n,” he grips the sheets, barely containing his hips to buck to your lips. “Your mouth, it’s—Hssshh…!”

“Mmm?” You blink before releasing the tip with a sound. “What about my mouth, Choso baby?” Fuck, the nickname made the pink of his ears creep down to his nape. “You feel good?” He nods at your question, and you giggle before sucking one of his balls, resulting in a sharp gasp from the brown-haired man. “I’m so happy you are…”

Hallow cheeks take in his cock, busying your throat with his length that has you humming blissfully. You massage his waist as you bob your face up and down, and shaky breaths leave his lips while his legs jolt with every swish of your tongue.

“—Shhiiit, oh shit, hnnn,” he can’t do it, you were driving him crazy. “Y/n, you’re gonna make me…Mmmm”

You pick up on his cue, withdrawing your lips from him to maneuver and pull down the top of your dress. Caramel eyes widen at the sight of your breast spilling out, forgetting how to breathe when you bring them to wrap around his long dick. You move them around to please him, taking the tip back into your mouth to slurp his leaking essence that trickles down to your chest.

“Mmaahh, go ahead, darling,” you place kisses on the tip, Choso looking at nothing but your mounds swallow him with every stroke. It takes mere seconds for his orgasm to sneak up on him, his jizz coming out to fall and trickle down in between the rifts of your tits. “There you go, let it out for me…” the way you looked at him with half-lidded eyes took his breath away, especially with the spit that connects your gloss-shining lips to his spit-and-come coated shaft.

And when he’s finally inside you? He’s too far gone to even think of being away from you.

“Ohhh, hoooh!! Chosooo, y’u feel soo good!”

Your dress was cast-off entirely, your nude body bouching up and down on Choso, his cock bullying the inside of your cunt. It’s been a solid fifteen minutes shared between the two of you exploring each other’s bodies, and sweaty skin exchanges heat from the constant motions. And come from rounds prior spill from your chasm as you ride on Choso’s dick with a rhythm.

He has his hands on your hips now, using you to keep him steady before he gets too lost in the feeling. Not that it hasn’t happened already; the man moans with every clamp of your walls around him, tightening around him with every graze of your g-spot. You wail for him up top, and your aroused sounds have to be the cutest things he’s ever heard. And the way your tits jump every time you plummet down to the base of him, it’s an image that will haunt him for the rest of his days.

“Tahhh, ughh, Jesus Christ…” He’s too sensitive right now; he just came not too long ago and is now being chased down for another one. “Y/n, sweetie, too fast, slow d—Ahh…!”

You hear him and titter, “Yeah? Want me to slow down, huh…” You bring your hips up excruciatingly slow, listening intently to the shaky sobs from the brunette as you get to the very top. And then you smack yourself down with haste, sharing a yelp at the rushed sensation. You do it again, “Think you’re about to cum again, huh, honey?”

His hands now come to your ass to grope with the flesh, and you twitch around his girth at the hunger. “Yeahhh…”

“You gonna be good and cum for me again, right?” Another snap of your ass crashing down on him.

“Yess, baby,” he throws his head back to the pillows, his head pounding so hard it could kill him. You can feel him pulsating within your slit. “Almost there…Ohh–ooo..!”

You bite your lip, relishing at the sight of him being desperate for release. You lean forward to him, your breasts meshing with his chest as you snake a hand around the back of his head. You place your lips on his, and he doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate.

The kiss gets hotter when you dial up the speed, tongues swirling and exchanging spit as the friction becomes a lot more pleasurable than before. Choso’s ears ring the deeper you bring him in to kiss, humming on his tongue as you suck on it with harsh rocks on his length from scraping places you couldn’t reach. He’s so fucking addicted to you; his composure long deteriorated the moment he first put his cock inside you.

Choso bucks himself to you in sync, his climax coming in just a few ruts. He howls into you, and you wail along as your hips don’t rest until you’re hit with a crescendo of your own. Contracting your vaginal walls milks him, exerting his load into you again to spill and flow down your sticky frames.

You two heave and pant in each other’s mouth before the kiss is broken, and the string of saliva is evidence of you being one with the other. Although the both of you are dazed, you smile at him before kissing his nose. “Glad I helped you out, huh?” He chuckles weakly as you lay kisses on his chin.

KNOCK!! KNOCK!!

And just like that, the two of you are frozen yet again. Wait…

Too late, the bedroom door busts open with a bang, and in comes your brother!

“Yooo, Choso, my guy—hic,” your brother stumbles inside the room, still a bit loopy and drunk. “Wanna go up and hit a quick blunt with— ah…”

The heat shared between you and the man below you switched to silent torture, awkwardness suffocating the three figures staring at each other. And this is the exact reason why Choso should’ve known better than to mingle around with you…

1K notes · View notes

cryptidghostgirl · 2 months

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omg omg omg totally new silly idea- human! alastor x human! reader where they meet at a party and go outside for a walk near the pier and the moon is beautiful and… they pull out weapons on each other (specifically Alastor a knife and reader a gun) and thats when they decide to form a partner in crime partnership

And in other to keep appearances they are forced to “fake date”

Mimzy: youve been spending some time with that new girl havent you, is she your gf or smth?” chuckle

Naize 20 yr old smth Alastor trying to think of a response thats not that:...

Mimzy: OMG IS SHE?

Alastor: sureeeeee

And they aren't actually into each other until a lot later into their partnership when they’re chasing some guy and reader gets to them first and just starts going at it “hey man i think hes had enough” “YOU WANT WHAT HES HAVING???” thpe shit

and Alastor has to catch his breath and he lowkey thinks hes dying because his heart starts beating a lot, And he goes again to mimzy for advice cuz i dont think he has anu friends and shes like “oh sweetie…”

And because its quite impossible to not get attached at one point theyre in another chase and reader starts laughing hysterically like “did you see him trying to run away??? lmao” and he goes “I couldnt take my eyes off you” and then just grabs her face and SMOOCH >:)

I think its a good trope- fake dating to actual dating even if its. about. murderers- :3

A/N YOU GUYS COME UP WITH THE BEST REQUESTS JESUS CHRIST!!! Also I promise I will get to the rest of the requests this weekend, I had two exams today so this is the only thing I am gonna post. Sorry.

Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: uh, murder. Mild gore. Violence. Weapons.

Word Count: 4,460 (I went a little overboard with this one)

Master Lists:

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"I'll walk her home, don't worry Mimzy." Alastor was saying as Y/n pulled her coat over her shoulders.

The noises of the party still raging on filtered into the grand entryway of the house, muffled through the walls. Mimzy shot her two friends a suspicious look.

"It's nothing like that, Mimz." Y/n sighed, straightening the collar of her fur coat, "I just asked cause of all those murders in the news. Kinda freaky, don't you think? I don't really wanna be out alone at night and Al here was kind enough to offer."

Mimzy crossed her arms, eyebrows raised.

"Sure." she teased.

"Mimzy." Alastor sighed in response and she put her hands up in false surrender.

"Sorry! Sorry." she hummed playfully, "I know you two free birds would never."

Alastor rolled his eyes and, turning to Y/n, held out his arm. She took it daintily, a grateful smile on her face. The pair had just met a few hours earlier but had quickly fallen into a casual camaraderie. He lead her from the house, Mimzy calling her goodnights and wishes for their safety after their retreating forms.

It was a mostly quiet walk through the desolate midnight streets of New Orleans. Y/n hummed softly, kicking a can along with the toes of her healed shoes.

"You'll ruin them that way, wont you?" Alastor asked, feigning concern.

Y/n just shrugged.

"They're shoes. Yeah, they're nice but I wont let that stop me from living. Let's stop by the water, it's so pretty tonight."

Alastor turned slightly, looking out at the Mississippi with it's slightly turbid waters reflecting the light of the stars. He tried not to smile, it was like she wanted him to carry out his intended work. She was making it so easy for him.

"Sure."

They turned towards the rail and Y/n let go of his arm, leaning her elbows against it. She let out a sigh of longing as her eyes tracked the ripples in the surface.

Alastor watched her for a moment, the moon illuminating her features. She was a handsome woman, there was no doubt about it. It had been proved to him tenfold by the amount of prospective partners she had turned down dances with at the party in favor of drinking with him at the bar. That was not what Alastor was interested in, however. Once he was sure she was distracted, once he was sure she had no intent to take her eyes from the glowing river, he looked down. Moving his coat slightly to the side, his hand quickly found its way to the hilt of the knife he had stashed in his waistband for just such an occasion.

He pulled it out, the weight familiar, almost comforting in a sense, in his hand. There was a click. He looked up, the blade pointed to its intended target.

Y/n was facing him now, a wry smile on her face. One foot in front of the other, she took a step forward. The muzzle of the gun, the cocking of which had been the source of the noise which had drawn his attention, just a few centimeters from his chest. The tip of his knife hovered indefinitely by the open center of her coat. He chuckled in amusement, eyebrows raised.

"I thought there were a few more bodies in the news than there should have been. A gun? Really?"

Y/n shrugged.

"I'm little. I don't have the privilege of being able to overpower my victims like you."

Alastor hummed softly. A slight breeze picked up, playing with the edges of their hair.

"What a shame."

Y/n laughed lightly.

"I don't think so. It works well enough."

"Those machines are inelegant, they are detached."

"And you prefer a sense of intimacy to be involved in all your escapades?"

Alastor removed the knife, holding it up to his eyes. He turned the blade over in his hand, examining it closely. Following suit, Y/n let her hand fall to her side, the gun still cocked should an occasion arise to use it.

"I have an idea." he suddenly announced.

"Oh?" Y/n asked.

She took a step back, returning to the water's edge. Alastor followed, leaning over the railing beside her. They watched one another closely, weapons still clutched loosely in their hands.

"Yep."

"You gonna tell me what it is or am I gonna have to guess?" Y/n teased after a moment, breaking the oddly comfortable silence that had fallen after Alastor's last words.

"There have been a few times, of late, where I've come a bit... uncomfortably close to being seen."

"Getting lazy." Y/n hummed, "Or maybe just cocky."

"It seems like you could use a hand, someone with brute strength in case anything goes wrong."

She scoffed, smiling just the slightest bit.

"Are you proposing we work together?"

"You're the one who said it, not me."

Y/n shook her head slightly, amused.

"How would I know you wouldn't just turn on me? End up killing me or decide not to step in if I needed help?"

"And how would I know that you wouldn't rat me out? Alert someone to where I was and what I was doing rather than telling me someone was coming? It's called trust, Y/n."

Y/n thought it over, fiddling with the gun in her grip as she did so. Alastor watched, seeing the gears turning in her mind through the light of her eyes.

"Fine." she said at last, un-cocking the gun and holding a hand out to him, "You've got yourself a deal."

Alastor smiled, slipping the knife back into his belt before grasping her hand in his. It was chilled by the air of the January night enveloping them.

"Deal."

Y/n quickly learned Alastor's preferred demographic. He had a penchant for angry men, drunks. Y/n had been a one off, a spur of the moment opportunity he had thought to take hold of. Alastor had not been like that for her. Y/n's preferred victims were also men. Anyone that showed any pressing interest in her, anyone who tried to take her home for the night, always ended up six feet under. For both, murder was a way of processing their personal experiences and traumas.

As a result of their deal, Y/n and Alastor began to spend more time together. They had to learn one another's intricacies, their ways of thinking, their nature of being. It was a necessity if anything was actually going to work. They both had rather busy work schedules, Alastor as a radio broadcaster with his very own show and Y/n as a seamstress at a local dress shop. Because of this, more often than not, the only time they had to get to know one another was through shared meals. Both of them had to eat, needed a lunch break or dinner. It was just what worked. Because of their slightly shared demographic of victim, they ended up in bars together quite frequently as well.

It was in one of these meet ups that they ran into their first difficulty. Y/n was sitting across a table from him outside a cafe, lazily sipping on a coffee as she perused the missing persons list in a newspaper. The newspaper was old, they were exchanging information about who was responsible for what. Working together didn't just mean knowing one another as they were now, but their histories as well.

They should have known not to sit in such a public place. Both had many connections in the city due to their jobs, though few friends. It just so happened on that day that the one true friend they did have in common was walking down the very street they sat on.

"Alastor?" Mimzy exclaimed, catching sight of his familiar face and moving towards their table.

Y/n folded the newspaper, placing it on the table as she turned towards the sound. Mimzy came to a stop, her brow furrowing in mild confusion as she saw her friend was not in fact alone.

"And Y/n, fancy meeting you two here."

"Pull up a chair, Mimz." Y/n smiled and Mimzy obeyed.

Swinging a spare chair from a nearby table, she quickly joined them.

"I haven't seen you two since the party! How have you been."

"Fine, fine." Alastor hummed and Y/n nodded her assent.

"And whats this with you two getting coffee?" Mimzy asked, a teasing smile slipping onto her face as Alastor took a sip of his own drink, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No, not at all Mimz." Y/n shook her head, a slight smile on her face, "It's always a pleasure to see you."

"You sure this isn't a date or something? I mean, with the way you two left and everything... having coffee alone..."

Alastor nearly choked on his drink. Y/n and Mimzy turned to him as he put a hand to his chest, clearing his throat.

"Excuse me." he said and Mimzy's grin widened.

"Oh this is totally a date."

"No!" Alastor exclaimed, exchanging a fervent glance with Y/n across the table.

She raised her eyebrows, pursing her lips. Without words, she told him to handle it. Alastor sighed.

"Are you sure?" Mimzy asked, a suggestive tone to her voice.

"I... uh..." Alastor stuttered, his brain working in overdrive to think of anything else. It came up empty, "Fine. Yes. We're... we're on a date."

"You caught us." Y/n chimed in and Mimzy turned to her.

"Oh my stars! You two.... I shoulda guessed you'd get on like a house on fire. Shame I can't invite you to any more of my singles parties though Y/n, you are a riot."

Singles parties. A hunting ground. Y/n smiled.

"No, no, Mimz. We're not exclusive or anything."

Mimzy's eyes widened slightly at the revelation as Alastor shot Y/n a look across the table. Dating was going to be hard for them to sell but swingers too? What was she thinking.

"Really? How exotic." Mimzy hummed in thought.

"We're all going to hell anyways so, why not." Y/n shrugged.

"Oh you." Mimzy laughed, placing a hand on Y/n's shoulder as she got to her feet, "Well, I won't keep you love birds any longer. I'll see you next week for the next party then?"

"We'll see." Alastor hummed placidly.

Once Mimzy had gone, he rounded on Y/n.

"Swingers?" he asked, eyebrows raised, "Really?"

"Hey, you're the one who started the whole 'we're dating' thing." Y/n sighed, picking the newspaper back up and resuming the task at hand, "I just made it easier for us."

"It will utterly destroy my reputation if this gets out you know."

Y/n shot him a look over the top of the paper.

"Al, you got a lot more to worry about than pretending to be a swinger in terms of your reputation. Now, Marcus Alcost? Six four, buff, scar on his left forearm? Brown hair?"

"Blue eyes?"

"Umm... yeah."

"Yep, that was me."

"Nice. Musta been a tough one to take down."

Alastor would track men, following them out as they left the establishments in the small hours of the morning with the intent of returning to their families. He would stalk them, corner them, lead them in. Y/n would stand watch, alerting him at the first sign of trouble.

The moment she heard footsteps, chatter, Y/n would duck in. Grabbing Alastor by the arm, she would whisk him off in some random direction, having consistently used the time she was on lookout to scout for escape routes.

They had had a few close calls, one or two times he had had to press her up against a wall and pretend to kiss her to avoid prying eyes. They always had a good laugh after something like that. Mostly, things worked out well. They each had survived on their own for years at this point. They knew what they were doing, adding another person into the mix just made it a tad easier.

Y/n, on the other hand, didn't need to track her victims down, they did that work for her. She would dress up all pretty and the moment someone asked to take her home or something of the like, would agree. Then she'd pull them into some ally or another under the guise of not wanting to wait a second longer and attack. Alastor would stand behind her, arms crossed menacingly as she carried out her work. He threatened so she could perform and she never had any trouble thanks to him.

That was, until one night about a year into their little partnership. As the time had passed, their relationship had grown. They still held the ruse of dating up before anyone who asked why it was they each spent so much time with the other but, a real friendship had begun to blossom between them as well. As it turns out, they had a lot more in common than just a tendency to commit brutal murders. Y/n knew Alastor well by now, better than anyone else most likely, and he knew her as well. That was how he could tell something was wrong.

Y/n had given Alastor the usual signal from across the bar and he had settled his tab. As he followed the pair, Y/n and the tall man whose hand she held, Alastor had noticed something was off. Normally by this point Y/n was stumbling around, pretending to be drunk and ditzy. She was doing this very thing now but in a more halted and jagged way. The man she was with seemed more believably drunk than she was, swaying this way and that. Her movements were uncharacteristically harsh as she pulled the man into the ally about a block ahead of him.

Alastor picked up the pace, breaking into a light jog. He reached the ally and turned down it, expecting to see Y/n flirting with the man or with her gun out already. Instead, he was met with something entirely different.

At the back of the ally lay the huddled mass of the man. On top of him was Y/n. The thuds of her knuckles against his face was the only sound breaking the silence of the night. She hit him, again and again. Alastor stood there, stunned.

"Dear, whatever is the matter?" he asked at last, trying to wrap his head around the situation.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Y/n."

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see the splatters of blood now, on the ground around them and the wall behind. The thuds included the occasional squelch, the crack of a bone.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"You'll ruin your hands for work tomorrow if you keep at this."

Still, she ignored him. There was a sickening crunch. Sighing, he approached.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see it now, the man's mutilated face. Part of his skull looked like it had caved in. He had stopped moving long ago.

"Y/n, dear," Alastor tentatively reached out a hand towards her shoulder as he spoke, "don't you think he has had enough?"

Y/n whipped around to him, her eyes wild and her bloody raw knuckles raised. He froze, his hand hovering above her shoulder. There was blood everywhere. It soaked the sleeves of her collard shirt, it dripped from her fingers, it decorated her face and her bared teeth.

"What, you fucking want some too?"

Alastor's breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded against his ribcage, begging for escape. It wasn't fear, it couldn't be. He could take this girl down in ten seconds flat, blood hungry as she was.

Y/n's eyes, sharp with violence, softened slightly as she saw his reaction. She let her hands fall, resting them on the man's chest.

"He tried to drug me." she revealed, turning her eyes back to her mess, her masterpiece.

"He what?"

"Yeah." she sighed, using the back of her hand to push her hair from her eyes, leaving a residue of blood in the wake of the movement, "I caught him, switched the drinks."

Alastor shifted his gaze to the man before falling on Y/n once again. Her face was blank now, all the rage gone.

"He tried to drug me." she said again, her voice hollow.

At last, his hand found its home on her shoulder and she turned to face him once again. Alastor extended his free hand to Y/n. She examined it for a moment before daintily placing one of her own in his and allowing him to help her to her feet. Both her hands now rested in his as they looked back at the remains of the man.

"Well, he's definitely dead."

Alastor let go of Y/n's hands. Now free, he used one of them to turn her face to his. Blood spattered, wide eyed, lips slightly parted -- his heart fought for freedom from his chest once again.

"He deserved it."

Alastor let go of Y/n's chin and used the cuff of his jacket to wipe some of the blood from her face.

"Can you walk me home?"

Normally if she had asked something like that, Alastor would have teased her to no end. Why be scared of the monsters in the dark when she herself was one of them? But her voice had been small, timid. She had avoided his eyes and his fingers tingled at the prospect of her viewing him as protector.

"Of course, my dear."

They did not have another planned meeting until two weeks from that day. Y/n had a big project at work and wouldn't have any spare time because of it. Alastor, normally restless at the idea of having to wait so long to satisfy his bloodlust either by killing or seeing the show of death, was grateful for the respite. He was confused, overwhelmed even, because his strange reactions, the change in his patterns of thought towards the girl, hadn't ended at Y/n's front door.

No, she was haunting him. Like a vengeful ghost, he saw her in his mind. She took up every waking moment, he didn't know what to do. Alastor waited a day and still, it persisted. The skip of his heart, the odd slightly sick feeling in his stomach at the thought of their reunion. He waited three days and it didn't stop. By the time the end of the week rolled around and Alastor still found himself smiling at the prospect of only having to wait another week not to kill but to see Y/n again, he did the unthinkable. It was the only option he could come up with. Besides Y/n, she was the only other person in the world he even half trusted. Alastor called Mimzy.

"Alastor, darling!" she excitedly exclaimed into the phone, "What a surprise! What can I do for you?"

"Yeah, hey Mimzy. Um..." he struggled to find the words, fiddling with the phone cord as he walked to the window, looking down at the street below, "I just... I need your advice about something."

"What is it, hun?" she immediately replied, "Seems its got you in a tizzy, not a lot can do that."

"I... It's about Y/n."

"Uh-oh, trouble in paradise?"

"No. Maybe?" he turned from the window, collapsing in his desk chair, "I don't know."

"Spill."

"Well, we... I just.... Mimz, I can't stop thinking about her."

"Well I would hope not, you've been together for almost a year now."

"Yeah well, about that. It may have been a... stretching of the truth? Shall we say?"

"Al." Mimzy warned after a moment's silence, "If you are playing with this gi-"

"No!" he exclaimed, cutting her off and quickly crafting an excuse, "No. It was just to get our parents off our backs. We had a deal. They were both pestering us about when we were gonna get married, you know how it is."

"I thought your dad was dead?"

"My ma though, she really wants to see me settled down."

"I guess that explains the swingers thing." Mimzy sighed, "It didn't really seem in character for either of you. So, whats the matter?"

"I told you, I can't stop thinking about her. It's like... it's like... look, we're not dating, but we're friends, you know? And we were out at a bar together a few nights ago and she just... she did something and when I looked at her, it was like I died."

"That little minx." Mimzy laughed in glee, "What the heck did she do?"

"Just something, okay?"

"I have got to quiz her about this."

"No! Please, no. She'd... probably be embarrassed."

"Mmm... okay...." came Mimzy's doubtful reply, "So what was it you needed help with?"

"Well, that. It was like the breath had left my body entirely. I felt... sick, my chest hurt. It was so strange. I thought it would go away once I got some sleep but it didn't. Every time I think about her, it feels like there is a vice around my heart and I can't stop thinking about her."

"Al, seriously? This is what you're asking me about?"

"Yeah?" he uncertainly replied after a moment.

"What are you, twelve?"

"Mimzy, are you going to help or not?"

She sighed.

"Alastor, you have a crush on her."

A beat.

"I do not."

"Yes, you do. Maybe even more."

"I..." his brow furrowed, his breath left his body.

This was bad. This could be dangerous, detrimental even.

"Are you sure?"

"Butterflies in your stomach? Pains in your chest? Can't get her out of your mind? You're even breathless for christ's sake Al. It's textbook first pangs of love."

"Fuck."

Mimzy laughed.

"You're already pretend dating, what harm would asking her to do the real thing with you do? My bet is, she's probably been feeling the same thing about you. That tends to happen in cases like yours, I've seen it before. The whole 'fake love turns real' trope. It's overdone if you ask me."

"Mimzy, this isn't one of your trashy romance novels. This is my life."

"So live it radio man! Go get that girl."

Alastor was nervous, trembling even as he sat at the bar. His glass of whiskey had gone warm on the table as he watched Y/n dancing and having fun in the crowd. This was how it usually went when it was his turn to hunt, she'd have fun and he'd find a target. Once the target left, he'd grab her and they'd move out.

Tonight he was distracted and it showed. The man had nearly given them the slip. With Alastor's knife still sticking out of his shoulder, he had ducked away and started running. Of course that meant Alastor and Y/n had to give chase. They ran after him through the streets of New Orleans as he screamed bloody murder and Y/n's heels clicked definitively on the ground. He was thankful that the hour was late and no one was out and about, thankful the man was so drunk his words came out closer to garbled singing than pleas for help, thankful he was slowed by his consumption.

When they at last caught up with him, Alastor grabbed his second knife from his belt and, taking the man's hurt shoulder in his free hand, buried it deep in the man's back. He fell to the floor, sputtering, coughing up blood. In a few moments he was still. Alastor turned to Y/n, panting.

Her pretty eyes traced a path between murderer and victim a handful of times before a smile broke out onto her face. Before he could really register what was happening, she was doubled over in laughter, clutching her stomach.

Alastor watched Y/n, eyebrows raised as they both caught their breath. After about a minute, she straightened up and turned to him, wiping a tear from her eye.

"What?" Alastor asked with a wry smile, "What is so funny about a dead man."

"He..." she broke out into laughter again, "He... the way he ran! And we almost lost him?! Oh my god, Al, that coulda been so bad."

"The way... he ran?"

"He... didn't you see it? Oh my god, it was so funny. Like he was running in a three legged race with an invisible partner." she wheezed.

Alastor felt the heat pooling in his cheeks. Mimzy was right, it was time for him to live his life. A normal existence could coexist with his hobby, Y/n had already proved that to him.

"Didn't you see?" she asked again.

"No." he shook his head, "I was... I was watching you."

"You were... Al, theres no way you were." Y/n scoffed, "No way. If you were watching me, he would have gotten away. If you were watching me, it would meant that you were unconcerned by your oh-so-precious reputation being ruined. If you were watching me, it would mean..."

She trailed off as he took a step closer to her, his gaze flicking between her eyes and her lips. Y/n's cheeks flushed pink.

"Alastor."

Her voice was a dying prayer. Reaching a trembling hand up, he laid it on the back of her head, his fingers tangling with her hair as she looked up at him with wide eyes. Alastor closed the gap.

He had been so scared. Scared she would push him away, that she wouldn't kiss back. Even a little bit scared he'd just become the next name on her list of degenerate men she'd killed.

There was a moment, a split second, where his fears were realized. Then, she washed them all away. Hands buried in the lapel of his jacket, she pulled him closer, Y/n leaned in.

They broke apart after a moment, their cheeks flushed and utterly breathless.

"I-"

"Would you like to go on a date with me, Y/n?"

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Are you going to try to kill me again?"

"Oh please, I thought we'd moved past that darling."

Y/n smiled, still holding him close. Alastor let his hands fall onto her waist as they swayed slightly under the light of the moon.

"Yes Alastor. I will let you take me on a date."

"We will not be swingers."

Y/n laughed.

"Just had to make that clear."

"No, Alastor. If I am going to get you, I want you all to myself. Now, what are we going to do about that body?"

----

Next Part -> Cover Up pt. 2

1K notes · View notes

reeniecon · 1 month

Text

-levels of possessiveness-

Include malleus draconia, lilia vanrouge, rook hunt, kalim al asim and Jamil Viper

‼️⚠️ : gn!Reader,I haven't proof read it yet, mentions of chapter 7 npc's names on lilias part, might be come out as yandere tendencies than possessiveness...

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- kalim al asim -

• I know some of you gonna disagree with me, BUT HEAR ME OUT OKAY

• since he was a little kid he always get what he wanted right?

• why wouldn't get this one ?

• YOU GET THE IDEA RIGHT HEHEHEHE

• hm? Oh u want to go out by urself? No way hahahah, take jamil with you~ or u want me to accompany you?

• Ooooo waitt sweety dont do the chores :(( ur hand will get hurt by that, just let the maid do it for you okayy?? Oh you felt sorry for him?? For working alone? oh dont worry baba(father) will recuit the maids tmr hhe

- jamil Viper -

• this one are not very surprising

• jamil didn't really get the chance to have something in life that really his on the first place

• so, when he finally did and someone are trying to take it away from him he get really possessive over it

• he can protect kalim all the time so... He faced by almost 0 problem trying to protect you

" Jamil.. What is that?? Can we get that? " You asked him

" I can make more healthier version of it at home, are you okay with that dear? " He speak " And uh...look, dear the cooking oil that there using, it's already black soo that mean they have been using it multiple time without changing it, I wouldn't want you to eat that not-very-healty oil I'm I?" He carefully explains to you

You can sigh to him " Okay... "

" Good, let's head back I'll make it for you" He smiled sweetly to you

- lilia vanrouge -

• lmao do I need to explain??

• he is a fae

• and already lived a long life

• he knows the pain of losing people he loved dearly mallenoa.. Malleus mother and malleus father...

• so naturally he didn't want to get hurt by that feeling again of course.

• that's why he get very possessive of you

• if you're a long lived creature you might see him be not so possessive towards you because he knows he had a lot of time to spend with you.

• BUT, if you're a human... He *sigh* yeah you know the rest

" My dearie" Lilia calls for you

" Where have youve been?? " He added

" Oh, lilia I just got back from heartslabyul actually, just meet adeuce " You explain while giggling

" Hm, why lying my dear" He glares to you, while flying closer to you

" What.. No what do you mean Lilia! " You panic a little bit because what he just say to you

"Fufu.. My lovely dear... Don't lie to me okay? I know everything going on in your life " He say gently while He stroke your hair

- malleus draconia -

• HE IS A DRAGON.

• dragon are KNOWN to be a possessive creature sooo what makes you think he is any different

• he probably lock u up somewhere if he want to lmao

• not only a normal dragon but he is a dragon with POWERS he is the crowns prince to the Briar valley soooo

• he basically can do whatever he wants lol

• good luck if you catches his eyes lmao he might never let you go until your funeral, keyword MIGHT

- idia shroud -

• aaa this wired boy

• lacking basic human interaction and affection wwww

• in my eyes he would either be

• no please don't leave me boy or don't leave me or ill kms / destroy all of it

• WOULD STALK U, he probably hack into the campus CCTV just to check what are you doing currently

• asking ortho to follow you and assist you with everything you need

• would probably sends anonymous deaths threats to any guy who are flirting with you

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More of my fics

An : I'm kinda ashamed by this lol, but Ill post it anw, I'll add more in the future but this is it for now 😂😂😂

546 notes · View notes

highvern · 4 months

Text

Home for the Holidays

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x fem!reader

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

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

Length: ~24k

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

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

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

June 27th

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

“I think we should break up.”

“and forth so much but—What?”

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

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

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

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

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

December 7th

Wooyoung

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Actually mom—”

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

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

He might as well start digging his own grave.

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

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

“Love you too.”

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

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

Wooyoung: Can I call you?

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

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

Y/N🥰🍯💖: are you okay?

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

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

“Hi.” She deadpans.

“Is it a bad time?”

“What do you want, Woo?”

“How have you been?”

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

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

“Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, tell her now.”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now he’s the one to pause, “Really?”

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

“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”

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

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

“Bye.”

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

Wooyoung: My flight out is 12/21

Wooyoung: You don’t have to come that early

Y/N🥰🍯💖: im off starting the 19th

Wooyoung: I’ll pay for your flight

Y/N🥰🍯💖: great

Y/N🥰🍯💖: ill venmo you

Wooyoung: Cool, send me the details

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

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

Lovers. Almost fiancées. And now strangers.

December 10th

Wooyoung

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

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

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

“Fuck me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

SANNIE⛰️: YOU DIDN’T TELL YOUR PARENTS?

SANNIE⛰️: U R SO FUCKED

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

Y/N🥰🍯💖: here’s my ticket

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

Wooyoung: Why are you flying out of LGA?

Y/N🥰🍯💖: Because I live here?

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

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

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

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

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

“This is the third time this month.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N

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

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

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

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

“Because…”

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

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

“I really like his family.”

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

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

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

“Yep.”

“This can’t go wrong at all!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N: Because I live here

Youngie 🖤: since when?

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

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

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

Wooyoung

Wooyoung: since when?

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

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

Wooyoung: Did you know Y/N moved here?

Yeosang: Yes.

Well fuck.

Wooyoung: You didn’t think to tell me?

Yeosang: You broke up.

Yeosang: ?

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

Double fuck.

December 14th

Y/N

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N: no thanks

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

December 21st

Wooyoung

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

“Bringing home anyone special?”

“When are you going to get married?”

“Grandchildren?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Congrats, man.”

“Thanks.” Wooyoung gives a tight smile.

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

He really needs a drink.

Y/N

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

“No charge?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cranberry margarita.”

“Wanna start a tab?”

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

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

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

Wooyoung

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

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

And a sour look of absolute disgust twisting her lips.

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

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

Wonderful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Great.

Y/N

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No! Not you, sorry!”

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

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

Great.

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

“Hey,” calls a voice to your left.

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

“Y/N,” he tries again.

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

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

“How’ve you been?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No way! My mom is from Lanesville.”

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

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

“Excuse me.” Wooyoung arrives over your shoulder.

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

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

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

“How’ve you been?”

“Fine.”

“How’s work?”

“Fine.”

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

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

“Fine.” You sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cold, wet. Lots of sick babies.”

“At least they’re consistent!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Still?” She gasps.

“Unfortunately, I think it’s terminal.”

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

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

Wooyoung

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s gotten better about knocking!”

“Yeah, after she saw us having sex!”

Not like that’s gonna happen again.

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

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

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

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

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

December 22nd

Y/N

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want some breakfast, sweetie?”

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

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

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

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

Wooyoung

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s Kyungmin?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s a guest!”

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

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

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

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

Y/N

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.”

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wooyoung, Y/N. Is everything okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh?”

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

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

“That’s really not neccess–”

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

Wooyoung

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

December 23rd

Y/N

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wonderful.

Wooyoung

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

Y/N

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

“You work with kids, right?”

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

“I mean not anytime soon considering…”

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

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

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

“Mia, are you and Myungho?”

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

“Scared?”

She nods sheepishly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me too.”

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wooyoung

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

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

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

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

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

“C’mon it's almost time for dinner.”

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

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

“I can get Bibi up here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The little sugar addict is nothing if not predictable.

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

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

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

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

“Mine’s the Grinch,” Kyungmin says.

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

“See, you get it!”

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

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

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

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

“Home Alone,” his mom chimes.

A chorus of groans around the table answer.

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

Nodding in appreciation, Wooyoung presents his.

“Nightmare Before Christmas.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mistletoe!” his mom squeals.

“Huh?” Grunts Y/N, confused.

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

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

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

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

Y/N

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

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

What was wrong with you?

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

December 24th

Wooyoung

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine,” Wooyoung pants. “Why?”

“Because you’re out here.”

“Just helping out.”

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

“No.”

“Okay.”

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

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

“Have you heard from anywhere yet?”

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

“Was it that bad?”

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

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

“They just stare at me. It’s creepy.”

“Yeah, that sounds pretty creepy.”

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

“Who’s Andi?”

“A friend.”

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

“What's she like?”

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

“Oh?”

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

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah, she is.”

“So you like her?”

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

“Kyungmin…”

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

“Why do you think that?”

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

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

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

“Oh, really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah but it’s B.Y.O.W.”

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

“Just think about what I said, okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bibi.” You whisper back.

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

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

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

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

Wooyoung

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

“You took the floor last night.”

“You don’t hav–”

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

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

“I’m fine.”

“Just take the bed.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

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

“Why are you being so stubborn?”

“I’m stubborn? Me?”

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

“Because I’m fine here!”

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

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping. Now shut up.”

“Wooyoung,” she sighs.

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

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

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

December 25th

Wooyoung

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit!”

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

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

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

Y/N

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pull out a cardboard box and a thick card.

“To my future Daughter in Law,

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

Love, Mrs. Jung”

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

“Oh, I can’t—”

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

“But I really—”

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

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

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

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

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

Wooyoung

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

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

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

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

“What’s the necklace about?”

“Your mom gave it to me.”

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

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

“I didn’t realize she’d—”

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

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

“I don’t know.”

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

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

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

“You just gave up.”

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

“Boston was always a problem!”

“Which I was already planning to fix.”

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

“What?”

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

“You’re joking.”

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

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

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

“You what?”

“I got scared.”

“Of me?”

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

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

“Kind of, I—”

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

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

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

“I still have it by the way.”

“What?”

“The ring.”

“Why?”

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

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

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

“Then why’d you do it?”

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

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

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

“Not anyone.”

Y/N

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” you whisper into his mouth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

December 26th

Wooyoung

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

December 29th

Wooyoung

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

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

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

“Huh?”

“Wooyoung, I know.”

“How… she told you?”

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

“What’d she say?”

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

“Did she say anything else?”

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

“I made a mistake.”

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

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

“Where is that coming from?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

December 30th

Wooyoung

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

“You’re pathetic.”

“Fuck you.” Wooyoung responds.

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

“She doesn’t want me!”

“Did you ask her?”

“I don’t have to!”

“You’re an idiot.” Yeosang butts in.

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

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

“It’s not that easy!”

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

“What if she says no?”

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

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

December 31st

Wooyoung

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

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

“Go fuck yourself!”

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

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

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

“What makes this time so different?”

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

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

And the line clicks dead.

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

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

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

“What?”

“Y/N works at NewYork-Presbyterian.”

“How do you know that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn't you say something?”

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

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

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

“So why are you telling me now?”

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

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

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

January 1st

Y/N

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

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

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

Impression: Upper respiratory infection, right otitis media

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–W

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

January 3rd

Wooyoung

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She isn’t coming.

She doesn’t want him back.

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

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

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

“Hi.” He says, dumbfounded.

“Hi.”

“You came.”

“I did.”

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

“I’m sorry.” He warbles.

“I know.”

But she can’t so he says it again.

“I’m so sorry.”

“You keep saying that.”

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

“Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

“No.”

“Then talk to me, Woo.”

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

“I don’t know where to start.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Since they opened.”

“Why?”

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

“I almost didn’t.”

“Why did you?”

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

“I had a whole speech prepared.”

“Really?” She smiles apprehensively.

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

“Then just tell me the truth, Woo.”

“I’m an idiot.”

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

And the space between them grows a little warmer.

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

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

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

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

“Please say something.”

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

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

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

Y/N

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

Four months later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about your fiance?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What if I wanna keep my last name?”

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

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

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

“What were you saying?”

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

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

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

“Feel for yourself.”

“And if I call you my husband?”

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

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

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weebsinstash · 10 months

Text

As much as I want to have children by this man, let's take a moment to sip our platonic yandere Miguel juice

-i can't decide which sex he'd be more partial to in a 'child'/you since in the movie there was Gabriella but in the comics he eventually has a son who becomes the next Spiderman but--

-as a girl i just naturally think of a lot of those sorts of gender specific ideas 👉👈 he's this big scary hulking intimidating threat and his "daughter" is the one melting his cold exterior

-doesnt matter if you're a grown ass woman, Miguel sees you struggling to braid your hair and suddenly here he is, full dad mode, doing it for you,and depending on how close you two are, maybe he disguises it with "ugh, stop spending so much time messing around with that. If I do it for you will you get back to work? 🙄", but really it's just your new self proclaimed dad/tio wanting to help braid your hair and help you feel pretty and, oh, how he can fondly remember the last time he helped braid "his daughter's" hair...

-of course this evolves to him just loving to do things with your hair. Braid it, wear it natural, style it, use products on it, hes got you. you were just trying to put your hair in a lazy updo like a ponytail or bun and this man doesn't let you leave until he's got you completely combed out, hair braided with ribbons, and of course this entire time youre awkwardly sitting there in a chair in his absolute cave of a workstation with this gargantuan 6'9 man there, "so how was your day? Staying out of trouble?"

-really I mean. Is stealing other people's kids NOT technically in character for him. You're unfortunate enough to trauma bond with this man and you're never getting rid of him

-you hear Miles Morales call him tio (as in the tio meaning dude) and you jokingly teasingly start calling him tio, which Miguel secretly pretends is the version that means uncle. You're just constantly joking around or looking up at him with these big pouty eyes, "but tio 🥺 can't I PLEASE--" and its like. Lmao people know that if they need to ask Miguel for a favor, that it increases their chances to have you ask in their stead

- I mean, as a female adult abused as a child by my own father, raised by a single mom myself, like...

Reader flinches away when Peter B goes to give you a supportive pat on the back or comes in for a high five after a mission and you force yourself to laugh because you're feeling more than just a little awkward and in the spotlight. "Oh, sorry, that was dumb!" And they eventually get you to kind of anxiously word vomit "my dad used to just kind of, rough me up sometimes when I did something wrong! It-it could've been a lot worse honestly, but, it-it just makes me kinda jumpy around guys sometimes! It's not a big deal, or personal or anything. I'm sorry if I made you feel bad 🥺"

Peter B, Jessica, and Miguel all there as older parental figures and also literal parents, immediately exchange looks and agree like "oh hell naw, don't like that" and you get silently adopted by all three of em right then and there

-if it's a physically abusive father and you're still the victim of abuse, I imagine your dad had some suspicious figures suddenly show up in the middle of the night to terrify and threaten the shit out of him and suddenly you aren't getting as manhandled anymore

-can you imagine, like, you show up to Spider Society one day with a black eye "oh, this? It's, it's nothing. My dad is just, he's about to make police captain and he's really stressed about it is all" cue all your friends mentally high fiving around the table because your abusive piece of shit dad is going to die and you don't even know. When it happens they'll all be "oh no, sweetie, I'm SOOOO sorry :(" meanwhile they're thrilled bc now you don't have any parents and they can weasel in there as your new family, schedule your birthday parties, monopolizing more of your time, things like that

-goddd I just imagine it could become some kind of weird fucked up enmeshed scenario where the structure it's providing for your life is actually good for you meanwhile Miguel is like, retroactively kind of soothing some of his trauma both from his own childhood and what happened with the second universe he broke that it's just like. You're a grown ass adult and this man is tucking you in goodnight and saying "te amo, mija" at the doorway and you bet his ass is going to stand there and not let you sleep until you say it back. He knows you're just absolutely seething at him and he'll still refuse to leave without a grumbling "te amo, papá 🙄"

-He eventually just has you doing so much shit and depending on him so much that it starts to become second nature to you. one day you're in the Society doing one of the odd jobs you're allowed to help with and suddenly you're thinking, "Ugh I actually don't know what to do next, I wish Papá was here to-- WAIT SHIT NO I MEAN MIGUEL--"

-lmaooooo as a non Spanish speaker I keep thinking of how awwwwwful it would be if he actually forces you to learn Spanish. Not inherently because there's anything wrong with Spanish, but, I'm not always smart, and I can just SEE him quizzing your ass, forcing you to have entire conversations in Spanish, always clicking his tongue or chuckling at you when you make a mistake and he just thinks you're so cute struggling to learn 🥰 man hears you're trying to take extra lessons from Miles and he instantly drops everything he's doing to go track the little scamp down. Insert meme "I can forgive being an anomaly but I draw the line at teaching Reader bad Spanish"

-siiiiiiigh eventually the day comes when you're in big danger and you need his help, maybe you disobeyed him and was hanging out with some other Spiders in another dimension when there was a sudden villain attack, and he comes to your rescue as a villain does something dramatic like has a gun to your head or a knife to your neck and the second you see him you're just overwhelmed wirh a sense of relief, calling out for him, calling him dad/tio/papá whatever, and he's just like 😭❤️ pumping his fist internally, like YES you are so grounded when you get back home but also 🥰 you finally called him dad without him having to twist your arm 🥰 nevermind if the "villain" who kidnapped you was actually a Spider who owed him a favor, and this whole thing was to teach you a lesson about listening to your Papá, that's not important ❤️

-Miguel who forces you to learn Spanish vs Miguel who forces you to be Catholic. I can excuse kidnapping and forced adoption but I draw the line at making me practice religion 💀 no but seriously, he probably does have certain morals and values he instills/forces upon you if he thinks you need them, and he'll probably be one of those fathers, "are you leaving the house dressed like that? Go change" and orders you not to hang out with certain people he doesn't approve of or thinks have bad character (like hobie lmao)

-bruh you two will be on a super serious important mission and this man will be like "it's dark, hold my hand so we dont get separated"

Eventually it comes to a point where you're, not perfectly behaved but, just about. If someone finds Miguel, it means you're not very far away, or vice versa. Members of the Society quickly learn not to make any advances on you or make any "adult" comments unless they want to get suspiciously hurt during a personal training session by the big boss himself. You think you're safe just cause Miguel isn't around? Nah, cause then you have Peter B and Jess keeping an eye on you, and, not that YOU'RE aware of the extent, but, if Miguel ever gets worried, he can just ask Lyla what you've been getting up to, since your modified little daypass has her installed into it and she can track your every move ❤️ helicopter parent? Oh honey, you have NO idea...

#yandere miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #yandere x reader #yandere spiderverse #yandere stuff #sinprompts

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anonymous-dee · 2 years

Text

The MC Who Cried Wolf

Summary: Glancing at your DDD, eyes fleeting between the newest messages and the demon before you, you couldn’t believe that no one was taking you seriously.

Considering the prank you had pulled merely a week or so ago, it wasn’t surprising. But if you had known the situation you were going to get yourself into at the time, you would never have pulled a prank like that.

Because now you were really in danger.

Notes: Hi guys! This fic alternates between the chatroom and prose, so there's a good amount of both! I promise the entire fic is not in shorthand!

ALSO! IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS FIRST AND DON'T CONTINUE IF YOU ARE UNCOMFY WITH THE AFOREMENTIONED VIBES!!!

Trigger Warnings: BLOOD, VIOLENCE, K*DNAPPING, SUS DEMON, ANGST W/ HAPPY ENDING, PANIC ATTACK, MC GETS HURT, GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS

~In the group chat~

Everyone is online.

(Y/N): Hey guys...

Mammon: Oi, human! Where have ya been?

Satan: I do believe they went shopping earlier this morning.

Asmo: Shopping? Without me? (Y/N)! You promised to take me with you next time!

Satan: Maybe it would be more productive of you to spend your allowance on something productive , like a book.

Asmo: You act like I didn’t see you spending 1000 Grimm on cat supplies the other day! We don’t even own any cats!

Beel: Satan has a cat? Can I have a dog?

Lucifer: Satan, are you hiding another stray cat from me again? If I find out that you’ve been keeping this a secret from me, there will be serious repercussions

Levi: Keep your cat away from Henry!!!

Mammon: Oi, the human’s been real quiet don’t you think? (Y/N), wake up!

Asmo: They did say they were shopping (without me). They’re probably not looking at their phone.

Beel: I hope they’re buying some food. I’m getting hungry...

(Y/N): There’s someone coming closer

Levi: Lmaaao another lyric prank? We’re not gonna fall for that again lol.

Satan: Did you not learn your lesson last time? Please don’t joke around like that again.

Asmo: Sweetie, just hurry up and come home! I wanna see what you bought!

Belphie: If you’re going to pull a prank, let’s do it on Lucifer instead. Not on the rest of us.

Beel: Belphie, you’re awake?

Lucifer: Belphie.

Satan: I agree with that one, Belphie. (Y/N), when are you planning on coming home?

Mammon: Why do humans walk so frickin’ slow? It’s gonna take them forever to come back, so one of us should go pick them up from the store!

Lucifer: Why isn’t anyone with them? Did I not specify that they were to have an escort on them at all times?

Levi: Don’t look at me! I didn’t even know they were going out!

Asmo: I would have gone if (Y/N) invited me!

Lucifer: Whatever. (Y/N), send me your location and I will head that way. Apparently all of my brothers are idiots.

Asmo: So mean!

Mammon: I’m not an idiot!

Lucifer: Silence. (Y/N), which store are you in?

Lucifer: (Y/N)?

Levi: (Y/N) totally got weirded out from Lucifer’s scary energy rofl lmao

Satan: It’s not hard to see how. Lucifer doesn’t know how to control himself when it comes to his temper.

Beel: Is Lucifer angry?

Asmo: You’re one to talk, Satan! That’s why (Y/N) needs to spend more time with me instead of you OR Lucifer! Besides, who doesn’t want to spend time with the most handsome demon in all of the Devildom~?

Belphie: (Y/N), ignore Lucifer okay? If you send me your location I’ll have Beel come and get you.

Beel: I’ll be happy to come pick you up, (Y/N). :)

Satan: Belphie, why are you offering for Beel to go get them? Why can’t you go yourself?

Belphie: sleepyzzzzzzzz...

Beel: Belphie nodded off to sleep again

(Y/N): He’s following me

Beel: (Y/N), we know it’s a prank. Hurry and cut it out before Lucifer gets mad again.

Mammon: Beel is right! Just admit it’s a prank before Lucifer punishes ya again! I don’t even wanna think about what happened last time...

Asmo: I’ll take your place, (Y/N)! I’ll take all of Lucifer’s punishments~

Lucifer: Asmo, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind me taking all of your skincare products for the rest of the week?

Asmo: NEVERMIND! (Y/N) COME ON AND HURRY BACK HOME!

Lucifer: In all seriousness, (Y/N). Stop this nonsense at once. You can either return home or one of us will come and get you.

(Y/N): I’m scared

Mammon: He’s not gonna do anything if ya come home right now! You’ll get to luck out on another punishment!

Beel: You have nothing to be afraid of, right? Lucifer won’t punish you if you’re coming home now.

Levi: Just came back from grinding in Doki Doki Magical Girl Heart Cafe Dating Simulator 2... (Y/N) isn’t heading back yet? Oi, (Y/N)! You said you would be back before dinner so we could play in multiplayer mode!!!

Satan: Again with the long titles...

Levi: It’s a really good game, Satan! You normies wouldn’t understand the logistics of running a tycoon based game with an influx of regular NPC’s who have a plethora of different requests and--

Satan: We get it, Levi.

Mammon: Does that game involve making money?

Levi: Of course he shows up when the topic turns to money. YOU STILL OWE ME MY MONEY, YOU SCUMBAG!!!

Mammon: I don’t have the money right now! I can’t give you what I don’t have!

Levi: YOU PROBABLY WASTED IT ALL GAMBLING AT THE CASINO!!!

Mammon: It wasn’t a waste! I was about to hit the jackpot!!

Levi: SURE YOU WERE, FRICKIN’ NORMIE. WORST OF THE WORST. ABSOLUTE TRASH.

Beel: Don’t mind them, (Y/N). I’ll make sure no one is arguing when you get back. Is that why you’re avoiding the chat?

Beel: (Y/N)?

(Y/N): I’m onfdskhg

Lucifer: ?

Levi: ghdlgjfdsln

Mammon: Sksksksskksks? Cha-ching? Money making machine?

Belphie: Stop spamming the chat with gibberish.

Satan: (Y/N), did your hand slip or something?

Levi: I thought they might respond again if I keyboard smashed, but I guess I was wrong RIP

Asmo: (Y/N) Dearest, where has my darling (Y/N) gone?

Mammon: Your darling? I was THEIR FIRST , ya know! Have some respect!

Satan: I checked their location status, but it was turned off.

Beel: (Y/N), I think you’re taking this prank too far. Lucifer is already getting upset.

Levi: They turned it off? Sounds like something they would do for the sake of a prank. Can we get an F in the chat for (Y/N)’s soul when they get back from this lololol?

Belphie: F

Beel: What does F mean?

Levi: Sigh, normies will never understand.

Lucifer: (Y/N), why did you turn off your location services? Lord Diavolo told you to never turn it off, remember? Are you going against his word?

Belphie: It’s always about Lord Diavolo, isn’t it?

Lucifer: Belphegor, hush. (Y/N), you understand why we keep it on, right? It’s for your safety. Turn it back on so we can see where you are.

Satan: I mean, if I found out that Lucifer was stalking my location 24/7 I would turn it off in a heartbeat. Just saying.

Asmo: (Y/N)~! Just tell us where you ran off to~! I promise Luci-chan won’t be mad at you!

Lucifer: Don’t make promises for me. And don’t call me that.

Outside of the chat, you were on the verge of giving up your cry for help. You wanted to be subtle about it; sending short, quick messages was the easiest way to NOT draw the creep’s attention.

You had resorted to sending quick messages with one hand, the other latched firmly on the buttons trailing down from your shirt collar. Your eyes peered at the demon before you as you took a few steps back.

“Why don’t we talk outside?” asked the demon. “This clothes shop must be boring for a little human like yourself. I can treat you to much better than this ol’ thrift store.” As he spoke, he waved a clawed hand over his head, gesturing to the little clothing store you had stepped inside.

You were farther from the House of Lamentation than you felt comfortable with. It was on the far side of the downtown area.

I knew I shouldn’t have come here alone, but sometimes I want to shop by myself! You thought, your back thumping against a rack of clothes.

Glancing at your phone, eyes fleeting between the newest messages and the demon before you, you couldn’t believe that no one was taking you seriously.

“No thank you." (Y/N) couldn’t back up any further. “I’m actually about to head back home.”

“Where do you live? Surely an attractive human like yourself doesn’t live around these parts. It’s dangerous around here for a frail human.” As the demon said this, he licked his lips and eyed you up and down.

You didn’t know what to say. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and anxiety was making your legs shake.

Wait! My pact!

“Hear me, denizens of the darkness, you who are born of shadow and--” Before you could finish the spell, (apparently the demon realized what you were up to), the demon quickly grabbed your wrist and yanked you forward.

“Not another word! Now let’s go!” In the process, you dropped your phone.

You lamented over the abandoned DDD as the demon began to pull you away. Apparently the demon noticed this, and chose to turn around. He didn’t loosen his grasp on your wrist as he pocketed the device and hurried out of the thrift shop with you in tow.

~In the group chat~

Beel: I’m hungry. Who’s turn is it to cook again?

Satan: It was (Y/N)’s turn, but it’s already starting to get late. Are they not home yet?

Beel: Nobody was in the kitchen when I went there to get a snack.

Asmo: Eating a snack right before dinner isn’t healthy! Anyways, (Y/N)’s probably on their way back! When I come back from shopping, my arms are always full of bags so I can never text!

Levi: Typical Asmo. (Y/N), can you hurry up and come home? We already missed the multiplayer event on Doki Doki Magical Girl Heart Cafe Dating Simulator 2, but we can still make the final episode premiere of My girlfriend was turned into a witch but now she doesn’t know how to control her powers and I think she started the apocalypse so now I have to fix it! season 2.

Satan: I don’t even want to know.

Mammon: I don’t understand what Levi said at all!

Levi: You all suck!

Lucifer: I called (Y/N), but they didn’t answer. Has anyone heard from them since they tried to prank us earlier?

Beel: I haven’t heard anything.

Belphie: I dozed off but haven’t gotten any messages from them.

Asmo: Like I said, they’re probably carrying a bunch of stuff!

Lucifer: I would hope not. They forgot their wallet at home.

Levi: ?!

Asmo: ?!

Satan: ?!

Mammon: >:)

Lucifer: Mammon.

Mammon: JUST KIDDING!

Beel: I’m starting to get worried. Why won’t they answer their calls?

Belphie: Maybe their phone is dead and they got lost?

Mammon: Wouldn’t they use one of their pacts?

Levi: Hold up, Mammon actually has a point for once. If they were lost, they would definitely summon one of us to take them back home.

Lucifer: I will go out to the shopping area and search for them. Maybe they panicked and forgot about our pacts.

Levi: It’s unlikely they forgot, it’s drilled into their head almost everyday at RAD lmao.

Satan: Our pacts are really important to them. They wouldn’t just forget about them. Maybe they would forget about YOURS, Lucifer. But definitely not MINE.

Lucifer: I will ignore your remark for the time being until I get back, Satan. I will keep the chat updated if I find them.

Outside of the chat...

The nameless demon brought you to his home, which looked more like a sewer than a house, but nevertheless...

You tried summoning your pacts several times, to which the demon finally got fed up and tied a cloth around your mouth to prevent you from speaking.

With your mouth, hands, and ankles tied, you could do nothing but sit on the floor (and occasionally wriggle to try and escape your restraints).

Apparently, this demon was very talented in tying ropes and the like, so it didn’t seem like you would be getting out any time soon.

The brothers don’t know where I am... Will they ever find me? Will he keep me trapped here until I die? You couldn’t help but let your mind wander to the worst possible scenario. Usually one of the brothers was with you to prevent a situation like this from happening in the first place.

I’M SO STUPID! I should have invited Asmo or Mammon to come along with me...’ Tears welled up in your eyes, and without any way to wipe them, they strolled down your cheeks.

The demon seemed to appreciate the horrific gesture.

“Those tears of yours look tasty.” Yanking you up by the collar, the demon licked the stream of tears protruding from your eyes before tossing you back to the ground. “I want to make you cry for me even more.”

Your stomach sank, and a cold chill shivered down your spine.

The demon grinned and kicked you in the ribs with a terrifying speed. One kick. Two kicks. Three. Four.

As each blow knocked the wind out of you, you couldn’t help but whimper from the pain. You also knew that would probably lead him on further, but how could you help it? After the demon’s assault had seemingly finished, he decided to take a break for the time being.

“You really wear me out, human!” Grinning from ear to ear, he ruffled the top of your head as if he didn’t just land several blows to your midsection.

His soft grip, however, soon turned into a tight yank, and you were dragged across the floor by your hair towards the other end of the room. The demon stomped on a particular switch, from which an underground passage emerged from two of the floor panels.

“Aight, I’ll be back later. Have fun, okay?” Without warning, the demon let go of your hair, allowing you to tumble down the concrete staircase with no way for you to brace yourself.

Against the cold concrete floor, you ached in pain from the concussion you had most likely endured, among other injuries from your tumble.

~~~

Several hours into the night, the House of Lamentation had heard nothing back from their beloved human.

Lord Diavolo had already been made aware of the issue as soon as it began to get dark, and currently had three search parties deployed.

“Don’t worry about it, we’ll have them back safe and sound,” Diavolo had said, although now those words sounded like false hope.

“This better not be a joke.” Of course, Lucifer was locked up in his room, hands clenched under his chin as he rested his elbows on the coffee table. He was deep in thought, wondering where you could have run off to.

However, a quick series of knocks tore him from his train of thought, and he stepped over towards the door to see who was asking for him at this hour. He rolled his eyes as he opened the door and found Mammon on the other side.

“You will not be using this chaos to get ahold of my credit card.”

However, when Mammon said nothing, Lucifer took a closer look at his younger brother. It appeared as though the second born hadn’t registered a single word Lucifer had said.

Mammon’s chest heaved up and down, his hands barely gripping onto his DDD.

“L-Lucif..Lu...er.” Through jagged, shaking breaths, Mammon looked up into Lucifer’s eyes with a wide, scared expression. It had been a very, very long time since Mammon had come to Lucifer looking this disheveled.

“Mammon?” Lucifer pulled Mammon into his room and shut the door behind him. “What has gotten into you?” His tone came out more worried than he had intended.

“Luc...Luci..” Unable to control his breathing, Mammon choked on air, and a crackled sob forced its way out of his mouth along with several tears.

He shook his head, as if trying to erase something from his memory.

Lucifer was almost unsure of what to do. He was not the best demon at comforting people... Why didn’t he go to someone like Asmo? Or Beel?

“Tell me what happened,” said Lucifer.

“I- It,” sniffle, “I, I s-saw them,” involuntary sob, “th-they, Lucif... you, and...” as Mammon’s words flowed together with the sounds of his panic attack, Lucifer realized that he was not going to get an answer this way.

“You saw them? Who? (Y/N)?” Lucifer shook Mammon’s shoulders, as if doing so would snap him out of it.

“I cou-couldn’t! T-They!” Mammon broke down into tears again, and if Lucifer hadn’t been gripping his shoulders he would have crumpled to the floor.

Lucifer felt all of Mammon’s weight begin to fall into his grasp, and he lowered him down to the floor.

“Mammon. I need you to look at me,” Lucifer’s voice was unusually soft, as he only ever used this tone of voice with you.

Mammon looked up at him, DDD momentarily forgotten next to him on the floor.

“Whatever has happened, I will take care of it. Do you understand? You are not in trouble.” A rare statement indeed from the Avatar of Pride, but right now he needed information. And he needed Mammon to stop panicking.

Mammon clenched his eyes shut, gripping onto Lucifer’s shirt and burying his face into his brother’s chest. His own chest still heaved up and down, as he was unable to control the breaths that forced their way in and out of his lungs.

With a shaky hand, Mammon grabbed the DDD from the floor and slapped it into Lucifer’s palm.

“Your DDD? What about it? I don’t understand.” Lucifer pushed Mammon back and stared into his reddening and swollen eyes, as if they had the answers to why Mammon was acting like this.

“I-I was... I was sleepin’, and...” Through ragged breaths, Mammon tried his best to explain what had happened, “...and a-and... a call, and (Y/N), and they were there! AND SOMEONE ELSE WAS THERE, AND I COULDN’T SEE THEM AND THEY CALLED FOR ME AND I-” He broke down again into Lucifer’s arms.

“(Y/N)? You talked to (Y/N)?”

“Somethin’ happened... somethin’ bad... t-they were bleedin’ and they couldn’t call for us...” Mammon mumbled, the mere frustration of the situation overwhelming his very soul.

Lucifer said nothing as Mammon’s story began to process in his head.

“They... They were there... and these demons were hurting them...” he continued. “They laughed at us.”

Looking up at Lucifer like a small child separated from his mother at a grocery store, Mammon cried, “Please, help them.”

Lucifer glanced down at Mammon’s DDD. When he unlocked the screen, the first image that appeared before him was a screenshot of a recent DevilTime video call.

As he peered at the image before him, Lucifer felt as though someone had stabbed him directly in the chest.

You were in the image, your face badly beaten and bruised. Your eyes were swollen (most likely from crying) and there was a demon holding you up by your hair.

The demon’s face was partially cut out of the picture, but still within the frame.

~In the group chat~

Lucifer: We fucked up.

Levi: Huh? What do you mean?

Satan: Did you hear back from (Y/N) yet? What do you mean we fucked up?

Belphie: Beel just woke me up... Did (Y/N) come back?

Lucifer: Levi, I am going to send you an image, and I want you to find the location where it was recorded.

Levi: ?

Levi: Oh, I just got something. Lemme check...

Beel: An image?

Satan: I’m guessing someone saw them? That’s a relief.

Levi: Lucifer, this...

Lucifer: I know. Please, Leviathan.

Belphie: Since when does Lucifer say ‘please’?

Levi: It will take some time for me to pull up the coordinates.

Mammon: Levi,

Mammon: Hurry. Please.

Levi: typingwithonehand, i’mgoingasfastasican!

Belphie: Don’t tell me (Y/N) is in danger...

Satan: Mammon, is that true?

Mammon: ...

Satan: MAMMON, TELL ME.

Mammon: We fucked up.

Satan: WHERE ARE THEY? LEVI, DID YOU FIND THEM YET? HOW COULD WE HAVE BEEN SO DAMN STUPID?

Belphie: Someone is going to die tonight.

Beel: We should have listened to them, even though we thought it was a prank...

Levi: *coordinates sent* I have the coordinates. I can assume we’re all going to go?

Belphie: Fuck yes. I’m going to tear the limbs off of the demon who took our precious human.

Satan: I’ll torture them slowly and painfully.

Asmo: We found (Y/N)? I’m coming! This is slightly more important than my beauty sleep!

Beel: I’m already waiting in the foyer.

Lucifer: Mammon, will you be joining us as well?

Mammon: ... Ye. The Great Mammon has to teach these guys a valuable lesson.

Outside of the chat...

You groaned as the evil demon dug his claw into your side, tearing a sharp bloody line across your flesh.

“I’m starting to get a bit hungry, ya know? These small dollops of human blood aren't’ doing it for me anymore.” The demon licked the blood that was dripping down your waist. “I’m so tempted to just take a bite!”

Licking his lips, the demon added: “Human blood is the best! It’s so damn sweet!”

At this point, the fear that you felt had started to make your senses go numb. Of course, every attack was excruciatingly painful, but it was as if the max amount of terror had been met long ago.

That’s it... Nobody is going to come for me... I’m going to die here. You thought, submitting yourself to another set of fresh tears. Considering how dehydrated you were, you were surprised you could shed them at all. At least I got to see Mammon before I die... I must have spooked him, though...

“Who the FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?” The sound of various familiar voices jostled you from your thoughts of death, and you opened your eyes to find your seven saviors standing before you.

Mammon tackled you in the biggest hug he had ever given anyone.

“(Y/N)...” He sobbed into your shoulder, forgetting to remove the restraints beforehand. “(Y/N), you’re okay.”

You chuckled softly. The hug pushed up against your various cuts and bruises, but you were thankful nonetheless. You nodded weakly, your body gaining a growing sense of heaviness as the seconds marched forward.

“Take their restraints off first, idiot!” Asmo’s voice wailed from behind them.

The Avatar of Lust gently removed the magic ties from your mouth, wrists, and ankles.

“Oh dear, your beautiful skin...” Asmo ran a finger across some of the exposed bruises lining your arm. “I’m so sorry...”

The sounds of torture echoing through the room made your skin crawl, and goosebumps formed on the back of your neck. Satan, Belphie, and Lucifer had surprisingly teamed up to take on the kidnapper.

Of course, the trio were three of the most powerful demons in the Devildom. There was no issue in terms of strength, but as for how long they could keep him alive before they could force him to endure a slow and painful death, that was another story...

“Here...” Beel sat next to you, a bottle of water in hand. “Drink some. It has electrolytes so your strength can come back.”

Pressing the tip of the bottle against your lips, he looked a little relieved when you began to drink the liquid.

“Ah... thank you Beel.” Your voice was so fragile and quiet that Beel wanted to cry. How long had you been screaming for your voice to end up like this?

“(Y/N), I’m sorry. We didn’t know...”

You shook your head slightly, the mere action making you dizzy (probably from the concussion).

Levi was awkwardly standing off to the side, unsure of what to say. He too had been a part of the masses; he too had failed you. Would you even consider him a friend after this? It would make sense.

Finally, the screams of torture were put to a halt as the kidnapper demon passed out.

“We aren’t done with him yet,” Belphie said, “but for now, we’ll leave him tied up here so Barbatos can teleport him to the torture chambers.”

The rest of the brothers accepted this without question.

Lucifer, having gotten most if not all of the anger out of his system, felt hollow. Slowly stepping over to you, he bent down to one knee. One of his gloved hands tilted your chin upwards so that the two of you were able to lock eyes.

He noticed the bruises. The scratches. The injuries. The blood seeping from your shirt on your right side.

“I’m truly and deeply sorry.” Lucifer looked down, as if bowing down to you. “I will not ask for your forgiveness. We have failed you.”

You shook your head, a rough set of coughs erupting from your core and sending the vertigo back into motion.

“Thank you... for rescuing me...” Your words were as fragile as a thin piece of glass, and it shattered Lucifer’s heart.

“You’re safe now, (Y/N). I promise.”

#obey me fanfic #obey me/reader #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me hurt/comfort #obey me angst #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me beelzebub #obey me levi #obey me asmodeus

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hiemaldesirae · 1 month

Note

Alastor: *possessively cuddles Vox while pretending to be violently sick.*

Vox: *on the phone to Val.* "I don't know what you've done to him, but he's sick, Val. You need to take better care of yourself incase Alastor eats you again! He's my husband, of course I care about him--we've been married for over 60 years! Val, I told you when you wanted to be my boyfriend that being my husband's dinner would probably happen relatively often, he's very possessive. It's why if I usually got horny before you I stuck to toys."

Alastor: *proud smirk as he nuzzles Vox's stomach.*

________

Valentino: *on the phone.* "HE FUCKING ATE ME! ME, VOXXY! I--WHAT DO YOU MEAN A BETTER DIET?!? THIS WASN'T--yes I signed the Voxtech contract...yes I remember it said something about maybe getting eaten but I thought--THAT IS FOR HIM?!? WHAT THE FUCK, VOXXY?? YOU LET HIM GET PICK OF OUR EMPLOYEES?!? EVEN ANGEL DUST?!? Wait, Velvette isn't on the eating list?!? Why not?!?!"

Velvette: *laughing hysterically.* "Cause I'm a doll, sweetie."

please guys you have to stop being cooler than me. its MY blog

god. its just so sweet im suchhh a sucker for sickfics (<- man who is sick 364/365 days of the year) vox taking care of al while he's "sick".... he doesnt know how to cook for shit but he gets delivery (and al eats the delivery boy) so neither of them have to go anywhere for the day <3 all public appointments get cancelled so he can focus on his husband for the day and he even ends up listening to a few radio broadcasts just for als sake

im sure deep down inside vox knows its all bs but if it means he can spend some quality time with his husband without people getting pissy he'll fuckin take it

(also the employee contract is sooo fucking silly im crying LMAO. i feel like vox hired mainly aquatic (fish) sinners so al wouldnt have to go to chowtown on a bug or something. the first time he ends up eating val is not their first meeting, contrary to public belief, but when he mocks al for vox leaving him)

#ran rambles #hazbin hotel #radiostatic #general asks

23 notes · View notes

oceanlipgloss · 4 months

Text

8.1.2023

The other post couldn't fit any more images but I still wanted to add a bunch lol anyways, I'll continue stuffing extra screenshots just 'cause :D

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ´ˎ˗

intro: he is such a good king. also, this power is really admirable (hot imagery too)

update I: aaaah you go, you two <3

update II: I'm gonna melt I'M MELTINGGG I love himmmmm I love him so much

update III: aw lol he's adorable

update IV: excuse you, but Satan is MINE, not yours. MINE MINE MINE <3

update V: pls don't hinder him, let him collect money stop him at once

update VI: go ahead, sweetie how come Jjyu is being so quiet and not roasting your butt

update VII: 'thick eyebrows' they say that to my face when his eyebrows are thinner than mine tf u mean thick eyebrows what does that make my eyebrows then, bushes? I like them

update VIII: omg Mammon calls Beelzebub 'Bell' noooo that's so cute shut up shut up shut up aaaah they talk about Beelzebub and my heart + interest both go STONKS➚

update IX: goddamn, punching an unconscious Leamas, are we? Mammon doesn't seem to be the violent type though, and he seems to have something in mind, so I'll see where this goes

update X: BIMET'S IN THE CHAT WITH PPYONG, SITRI AND MC NOW TOO YESSSS

update XI: because I love you for educational purposes, honey

update XII: who's gonna tell him that MC is a hobo too? But be gentle about it, pls you don't want him to faint from shock, do you?

update XIII: kwksnjsjs eeeeee but how did he change his attitude and mind so quickly

update XIV: so Mammon doesn't trust Leamas due to a gut feeling, and it's said that Mammon's intuition is always right. And there's something about Nina...

update XV: no, it's not! Not at all! Gimme some

update XVI: someone is really romantic <3 By the looks of it, he seems to really, really like MC, so I'm going to go ahead and say that he's the type who falls in love first, and falls in love fast. SO CUTE

update XVII: "let me enjoy my date" his smile is so cute, it's almost contagious <3 and HE? IS SO, SO LOVABLE Also! There's an upcoming H-scene let's hope I can make it there first which means that MC leaving with Mammon is going to be followed with MC feeling unwell again (and logically, Mammon should be the next one to have some fun *inkling boy voice* WHOOPEEEE)It's strange that Satan didn't interject this time though TAKE YOUR LADY BACK

update XVIII: SCREECHING ANGELS INCOMING ONCE AGAIN Now close your eyes and answer me this: CAN YOU HEAR ME SCREECHING??? On the inside, of course. This poker face doesn't melt off that easily (edit 3: man, there are 36 angels, but that would've been totally fine if it weren't for how ¾ of them were of the red screaming type + there's such little space so there's no actual way to distribute your team properly besides a horizontal line. Having the demons so close to each other is the only possible 'distribution,' which means that they die like flies one after the other and ughhhh)

update XIX: this is horrid. Putrid. Vile. Grotesque. Those screaming monstrosities won't stop coming the H-scene must really be something, huh? Whatchu gonna do, Mammon?

update XX: several very, very fruitless attempts and team deaths later... Well...I have materials, and I have keys. So what do I do? FUCK IT, WE BALL *shudder* DO ONE 10-PULL, that's what! This hurts my heart knowing my luck, I'm not going to get even one L card lmao But I'm curious about something and want to confirm whether it's going to happen or not. All this time, my intution has told me that I'd get Andrealphus on my first ever 10-pull with lesser keys. Am I right or wrong? Stay tuned! (it wounds me to take this risk and spend 30 of my precious keys, but here goes nothing sob sob PLEASE let this be worth the sacrifice)

update XXI: UHHHH???? HEHEHEHEHEHEHE broooo lol omfg I AM GIDDY I WAS RIGHT LOL I can't even bring myself to feel salty about not getting an L card that's a fucking lie, yet it's also the truth BUT OMGGGGGG

update XXII: okay, I calmed down some I think Anyways, I got Marbas and Buer too (I'm holding all of Lucifer's guys hostage now. Is this a sign that I will pull Lucifer himself once his card is launched? God do I hope it is but it probably isn't) And I also sob pulled another Ppyong and another Gusion (you're so damn hot, Gusion, but WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME??? I WAS HOPING FOR AN L CARD BEELZEBUB GODDAMMIT let's be honest tho, I knew I wasn't gonna get ANY L card) does this mean that Gusion likes me as much as I like him? Is my admiration so powerful it transcends screens and reaches the virtual world? Because boy...<3 but if that were the case I should have also pulled Satan and Beelzebub BUT I GOT ANDRE OH GOD THIS FEELS LIKE A DREAM I CAN'T BELIEVE IT AND I CAN'T BELIEVE I WAS RIGHT I SHOULD REALLY TRUST MY GUT MKRE OMG SJDBKLSJS I also have this illogical, intense desire to care for him binge-upgrade him, but I want to save materials for L cards I might never get...still, I have a feeling he won't disappoint despite being close-range, so I'm going to upgrade him to level 20, try him out and see how he does

update XXIII: "the devil who eternally gazes at his lover with blind eyes" is such a tragic and romantic sentiment, so much so that I suddenly actually FEEL inspired to write and give him more emotional anguish but will I actually find the energy to do so? Nobody knows

update XXIV: THAT'S THE FIRST THING HE SAID I KNEW IT FROM HIS INTRO QUOTE BUT HE SEEMS SO ROMANTIC AND GENTLE AND HE'S MAKING ME SAD I LOVE HIM ALREADY back to lowercase now

update XXV: So! I just tried him out in Dark Sanctuary for jello pudding that looks like jello and WHAT. THE. FUCK. HE'S AMAZING. HIS ULTIMATE ATTACK??? YOU GET A PROMOTION BBY and his chibi and its animation are so cuteeeee (edit 1: aaand I promoted him, he earned it) I haven't forgotten about Marbas either! HE'S A HERO <3 I kind of did forget about Buer though so I'll try him out tomorrow (edit 2: I lumped Buer and all my new guys into the gang and sent them out to THAT battle. And honestly? I was surprised at the improvement. I can make it to 15 angels left with people actually alive now lol Buer's not too bad, I'm using him to heal Satan but those screeching abominations won't let Satan live much. And this is kind of dark but it's funny how Andre sounds like he's having a mental breakdown when he's defeated lol)

update XXVI: he's intent on breaking my heart. I don't want MC to sleep with him, I want her to hug him and stroke his head and kiss his eyelids until he falls asleep or at the very least do all these things for him in the H-scene

update XXVII: I know the drill by now. If I don't manage to pass this hellhole of a battle by day 3 of being stuck on it, that means desperate measures a long ass wait, but I'll put up with that because no more lesser keys will be spent for now I swear it upon my honor

Wow though, is this the high you people who regularly do lesser key pulls feel? I feel powerful and I didn't even pull an L card lol because Andre may be an S in-game, but to me he's an L and because my gut was right

9.1.2024

update XXVIII: I like how 3-77 actually has the nerve to say 'lv. 49 required' when I'm sitting here with barbecue sauce on my titties a LEVEL 89 Satan and still getting obliterated to no end. 'Lv. 49 required' must be code for '2+ lvl 49 L cards needed to save your life'

update XXIX: I made it to 6 remaining angels and lost lol but I'm not really THAT pissed about it because when I first tried my hand at this battle I would constantly go down with 20+ angels out of 36 remaining, then it got better with 15 angels left, and I eventually managed to make it alive *gasp* to the final 6! That's great improvement and it hopefully means that there's a chance of getting past this woooo but I hope that if I do succeed, 3-78 would be kinder, and by kinder I mean—for the love of God, for the love of all that is holy—NO. SCREAMING. ANGELS. At least, not batches upon batches of them because my God man, they just keep on coming

update XXX: I finally passeddddd God bless each member of my team for making this possible, but I extend special blessings to Marbas, Astaroth, Andrealphus and Satan lol Now onto the next battleeee

update XXXI: PASSED! THE H-SCENE IS SO CLOSE OH MY GOD sknfdbksk it's going to get it's own post, because I always have a LOT to say and a bunch of screenshots to share, more so when it comes to H-scenes, so...IT'S GONNA BE MAMMON ISN'T IT

update XXXII: angels are in the sky and the girl is busy being horny greedy how surprising

update XXXIII: yup it makes perfect sense that he would react to her thinking 'I hope that's mine' but fuck he's so cool

update XXXIV: excuse me, but...'your muscles'?

update XXXV: oh man that's kinda soft I love that he's so happy he fell silent

update XXXVI: dude he's so happy and he wants to hear her say that she wants him again that's so adorable wtf Mammonnnn

update XXXVII: sir! Be careful with my heart

update XXXVIII: ROFL BRUH NO I CANNOT And to make it even funnier? SQUISH SQUISH

update XXXIX: the H-scene is up next! I have no doubt about it now—it's Mammon this time. But Lord, I feel sort of nervous lmao my heart is acting weird and my stomach is going *knot knot* inspired by squish squish all this and I haven't even seen the intro screen to the scene for a hint yet lol ANYWAYS, LET ME GET TO IT IN ANOTHER POST BECAUSE I PROMISE, I WILL HAVE A LOT TO BLAB ABOUT SAY

update XXXX: Mammon was right about Leamas, apparently. Thought so...but I have a bunch of battles to beat before I can see what Leamas has to say, so good luck to me lol Because wow, now that I'm almost finished with Chapter 3, even the 'normal' battles have gotten considerably harder pls be nice, I have but one L card there's constantly 30+ angels, and many of them are usually the ones that shit spikes release spikes (honestly though, anything is better than the screaming ones which I'm sure are coming soon) and they're spawning fast, making up masses and hoards lmao it's hard depending on one character to save everyone else's asses, man so I'm sometimes having to repeat more than once to get by

10.1.2024

update XXXXI: so Leamas's real name is Samael and he and Nina love each other, and I'm assuming he was punished for that. I know angels have rules to abide by, but talk about unjust...

update XXXXII: guilty gems get an honorable mention today

update XXXXIII: Satan about to threaten Mammon if he were going to say that MC is his, followed by Mammon saying that he changed his mind since he decided to be MC's, and then MC being like 'that's new. Anyways, moving on'? lol

update XXXXIV: I. LOVE. SATAN <3

update XXXXV: Leamas took MC with him. Damn, I wonder what's going to happen now and where he's going to take her and Nina. Everyone is going to come to MC's rescue, there's no doubt about it, but what's gonna happen BEFORE THEY DO? I'm so excited though, I'm gonna start Chapter 4 in a few! At least, I hope I can then again, logically, the boss fights are always a lot easier than normal battles, so I should be good! (edit: DONE! Those human-looking angels are so cute lol they look like soft little dolls. I want one)

TIME FOR CHAPTER FOURRRRRR

edit: WHAT. THE??? AN H-SCENE. RIGHT AT THE BEGINNING OF CHAPTER 4. I CAN'T BELIEVE IT. IT HAS TO BE BIMET'S BECAUSE BELIAL IS STILL IN THE HOSPITAL OMFG AAAAAH SKNZBKDB

#whb #what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad #what in hell is bad diaries

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jawritter · 1 year

Text

If It’s Meant to Be

Chapter 12

Summary: Bad things happen to good people, that’s just the rule of thumb. But sometimes, things happen for a reason, and that reason is so you can find the person you’re meant to be with…

Pairing: Alpha!Beau Arlen x Omega!Reader

Warnings: 18 + ONLY!!! ANGST!!! Tense medical situations. I’m sure I’ll botch medical terms in there somewhere lmao.

Word Count: 2436

A/N: This fic is completely unbeta’d, so all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Enjoy!

My Masterlist Series Masterlist

She didn’t remember calling the ambulance. She didn’t remember doing CPR on him. She didn’t remember any of it. All she remembered doing was screaming. She thought she had lost him, and honestly, for a moment, the paramedics thought she might have. Had she not been doing CPR on him she would have lost him permanently. When they got to his trailer, along with a panicked Jenny, his fever was 105 degrees F.

She vaguely remembered that Jenny was the one who pulled her away from him so that the paramedics could get to work. There were multiple people all around her that were telling her that she saved his life, but honestly, she felt like she’d killed him, all because all the times he’d tried to tell her why he’d brought the pill that morning, she wouldn’t listen to him, and now, it’d escalated to this.

“Sweetie, you need to calm down,” Jenny said, handing her a cup of coffee that Y/N took with shaking hands, but didn’t even bother drinking. “He’s gonna be okay, but he’s gonna need you in one piece when he’s allowed to see you again. You’re no good to him if you’ve given yourself a nervous breakdown.”

“This is all my fault Jenny!” Y/N whisper yelled at the blonde woman sitting next to her. “If I would have just listened to him, let him tell me what his intentions were, but no, I had to be bull headed and stubborn, and now this.”

“Y/N, you heard what that paramedic told you, and I swear to God that doctor is gonna spend time in federal prison over this! Rut, or Rut Fever did not cause his fever. He’s sepsis. He has an infection. Is he in rut right now, yes, but it’s from being in close quarters with his True Mate without consummating the claim. They even did the blood test to prove it when you both got here. Rut Fever doesn’t get that high, even when they’re feral. That doctor is a sick fuck who lied and neglected him and refused to treat him. Nothing you and Beau did, or didn’t do, caused this.”

Y/N wanted to believe her, she really did. But it was hard, because she’d believed the doctor so completely, even if it was subconciously. It had made sense at the time. Just when they’d agreed to fix it. It all went so wrong again. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

“I want to see him,” Y/N said for what was the thousandth time. He was critical when they’d gotten to Beau’s trailer, so the ambulance wouldn’t let her ride with them to the hospital. Every time she closed her eyes all she saw his limp body laying on that gurney as they carried him out of his trailer. It was an image that would haunt her nightmares for years, and years, to come.

“When I went and asked how he was doing just now the nurse said that his temp was coming down, and that he was stable and resting comfortably. As soon as his fever is under complete control, and he’s awake, they will come and get us to let us see him,” Jenny assured her, but Y/N felt like it was taking too long, and rightfully so, she had some serious trust issues with doctors at the moment.

“What if he doesn’t want to see me?” she questioned, and Jenny dead panned.

“The rut hormone is still very present in his system,” Jenny argued. “He is gonna wanna see you. Hell, when he’s ready to get out of here, he’s got to go with you if he wants to leave as long as the hormone is present. Which, from what I’m told, will be present until he claims you.”

Y/N nodded, looking down at the dark liquid in the cup she still clutched untouched between her hands.

“That’s what’s bad about this biology we have,” Jenny continued. “Sometimes, our genetics, fate, whatever you wanna call it chooses for us. If he doesn’t claim you, or if he claims you, and you reject him, yes, eventually he will go feral and it will kill him. He knows that. You know that. But what happened tonight had nothing to do with any of that. He’s nowhere near feral.”

“Yeah, well, maybe biology got it wrong, cause it doesn’t really feel like Beau and I were meant to be. Every time we get close to fixing this shit, or one another, everything goes south in a hurry,” Y/N revealed, and Jenny nodded thoughtfully next to her.

“You know, nothing worth having is ever gonna come easy, and I promise you, that man laying in there on that hospital bed is worth fighting for. He’s a stubborn, bullheaded Alpha, he talks too damn much. He tends to put his foot in his mouth. But that man in there loves hard, and I always knew he'd be a good Alpha for whatever woman is lucky enough to have him. You guys are meant for each other, or it wouldn't be so damn hard.”

Somewhere deep down, Y/N knew Jenny was right. She knew it. Still, sitting there alone in that hospital room, her ‘Alpha’ was very, very, sick, and she couldn’t see him. She felt like life had totally bottomed out from under her.

“Ms. Y/L/N?” A voice sounded from the door, and Y/N stood up so fast her head spun slightly, with Jenny hot on her heels.

“Yes! That’s me!”

“Your Alpha is asking for you. He’s awake and won't calm down until his Omega is with him. He’s in a deep rut, and is very agitated,” she explained as she led the way down the hallway of rooms and random room numbers that Y/N wasn’t paying attention to.

“How’s the fever?” Y/N questioned, and the nurse came to a stop in front of a door with the number 11 on it.

“Down to 99.8,” she informed her, and Y/N literally breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry,” the nurse turned to Jenny, who was standing right beside Y/N next to Beau’s door. “But because he’s in rut, we can’t allow another Alpha in the room with him right now, the doctor said just his Omega, we don’t want him to get irritated again, and his blood pressure rise.”

Jenny nodded knowingly before turning to the Y/N. “Let me know how he’s doing. I’ve got to go back to the station.”

Y/N tried to attempt a smile, but it failed somewhere on her face, her mind was too heavy to smile. She had no idea what she was walking into with Beau, and now she had to walk into it alone. Sure, she wanted to see him, but she didn’t know if she was as ready to face him as she thought she was.

The nurse opened the door, and Y/N stepped inside as it closed tightly behind her. Beau was laying on the bed, arm propped up on pillows instead of in a sling, IV’s and machines seemed to be hooked to him, and she was pretty sure one of those was a dialysis machine, and her heart dropped to her feet. Had his kidneys failed too?

Beau, hearing the door close, turned to look at her standing here, and reached for her with his good arm and her heart shattered. He looked pathetic. It was hard not to just sit on the floor and cry.

“You scared the hell out of me,” Y/N admitted as she made her way to his bedside, and he quickly grabbed her hand on his own, holding onto it tightly.

“I scared the fuck out of myself too,’ he admitted. “Apparently that doctor we saw earlier is a quack, and damn near killed me all because he was pissed you weren’t walking around with my claim on your neck.”

Y/N nodded, looking off out the window as a sudden realization dawned on her.

“Yeah… Jenny said she was headed back to the station, but I got a feeling she might be going to rip that doctor’s throat out.”

Beau chuckled to himself. “Most likely.”

“I’m sorry Beau, I feel like this is all my fault.”

“It’s not,” he answered quickly. “The doctor said most likely they either didn’t clean the wound well enough, or there is a fragment of bullet left behind that caused an infection that got into my bloodstream and into my kidneys. The fever from the infection brought on a seizure that brought on respiratory destress. You had nothing to do with that sweetheart, that was that idiot doctor’s fault. As soon as they get the infection under control, they’re going to put me under and take a deeper look at the wound, probably tomorrow, and I’ll be fine.”

Beau grimaced and looked away from her. She panicked, and reached for the nurses button, but he stopped her.

“I’m okay, It’s just my rut,” he said. It’s just really hard not to pull you down here with me right now,” he admitted with a dark laugh.

“I don’t think the hospital staff would appreciate that,” she voiced, and Beau just rolled his eyes.

“You know, in Texas, when an Alpha is deep in rut as I am right now, they give the Alpha and their Omega a private room so that they can handle what they need to handle without being interrupted.”

“Beau,” she said, narrowing her gaze at him. “I don’t think that you’re physically able to knot anyone right now.”

Beau growled under his breath, and she had a feeling that if she would have understood whatever he was saying it would have pissed her off, so she left it alone. Alphas tend to be more than a little on the filthy side of the gutter when they’re in rut, and that usually means comments that were slap worthy. It was the first time she’d seen Beau like this since she’d picked him up from the hospital, which meant he was feeling better.

“Well, will you at least come lay up here next to me?” He pleaded, and he looked so fucking pathetic, she didn’t want to tell him no. He had a way of pulling a puppy dog face that would just melt her and she was pretty sure he knew what he was doing, but he looked so down and pathetic she didn’t want to scold him for it.

“What if I hurt you?” she asked, and he rolled his eyes dramatically.

“You’re not going to hurt me, Omega,” he insisted. “Just about everything they got hooked up to me is on one side, just... Please?”

“Fine,” she relented, narrowing her lips at him with disdain, but he didn’t seem to mind, judging by the victorious smirk on his lips. “But if we get yelled at, you’re explaining to them it was your idea.”

“As freaked out as everyone was when I got here, I’m pretty sure I could get away with murder,” he revealed as she settled herself next to him, and as soon as she touched him, she watched as his body visibly relaxed next to her. Apparently having her close really did help, he wasn’t lying about that.

“How long have you been awake?” She questioned, and Beau sighed as he nosed around her hair, attempting to catch her scent the best he could in his weakened and somewhat incapacitated state.

“‘Bout thirty minutes, I think. The doctor pissed me off, and that’s when they came to get you.”

“What happened?” she questioned, suddenly curious.

“Well, he threatened to call Alpha protective services because I was in a deep rut, and you were walking around without a claim mark on your neck. He asked if you were the reason you weren’t claiming, if you were fighting the claim, and I snapped.”

Y/N sat up suddenly very angry. “Why the fuck are these doctor’s stuck on that?! I swear to God! So what, you’re in rut, and I’m not claimed! Did they ever think that maybe the fact that you’ve been, oh, I don’t know, shot, septic, and nearly died as a damn good reason as to WHY I haven’t been claimed!”

Y/N looked down to find Beau smirking proudly, and she would have slapped him had he been in better physical shape.

“He didn’t ask that until after he explained to me that I was sick, and not dying of rut fever. I think he was just concerned that I even thought that, and assumed you were fighting the claim. After I nearly bit his head off and told him what happened at the rapid care clinic, and that we were about to carry out the claim when I blacked out and had a seizure, then kinda stopped breathing, he changed his tune.”

“Wait, that was a seizure?” Y/N questioned, and Beau nodded.

“Apparently, the fever caused a seizure, the seizure caused me to go into respiratory distress, and then the ambulance showed up. If you weren’t doing CPR on me, I probably wouldn’t be here, or I’d be braindead.”

Y/N shuttered, and held Beau a little tighter, or as tight as she could without hurting him. She didn’t like to even think about what happened, or almost happened to him. It made her sick to her stomach. She came so close to losing him. She still somehow felt as though it was her fault.

“When we get out of here, I’m going to finish what we started, the right way,” he promised, nuzzling into her hair and leaving little kisses to the top of her forehead.

He was tired, she could tell he was tired just by looking at him, but he was alive, and that’s all that mattered, they’d worry about the claim when he was better. They would work it out. It didn’t matter, as long as he was still here and breathing, that’s all that mattered.

“Sleep Alpha, I’ll be here when you wake up, they’d have to arrest me to get me out of the bed, and considering who you are, I don’t think that the arrest is likely.”

“It would be funny for them to call Jenny to have her arrest you though, kinda hot too.”

“Don’t push it Alpha,” she warned, and he chuckled to himself, no longer able to keep his eyes open as the amount of drugs and pain medication they gave him started to take its toll.

Maybe when they got out of here, then he could claim her like he should have done the night she’d shown up at his trailer. Then maybe, just maybe, this hell would be over and they could start their life together…

Forever:

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#if it's meant to be #beau alren #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x y/n #alpha beau areln x omega reader #alpha beau arlen x omega you #alpha beau arlen x omega y/n #abo dynamics #abo #big sky #big sky fanficiton #beau arlen series #jensen ackles #jawritter

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sunbloomdew · 1 year

Text

thoughts on Free! Iwatobi Swim Club

by your one and only casual anime watcher, who is now dipping their toes in sports anime

god, free! was amazing!

it's been a while since i enjoyed an anime this much, and i think this proves that i should watch more sports anime. all of the ones i watched so far were really good (sk8 the infinity and yuri on ice), something is up with this genre

so anyway, free!. i love swimming and water so it was already an ideal premise for me. the characters are all super likeable and have different sides to them. i wouldn't say they are perfect, but what i can give them, is that they all feel like genuine friends, who enjoy spending time together.

REI WAS THE TRUE MVP. this boy saw that the other three had problems with rin and went "alright, lemme fix this" AND THEN HE DID!! nah, for real tho, i think without him, rin's reconciliation with the rest wouldn't happen. i appreciated that rei did this not only for the sake of his team, but also for himself. i also liked that he openly communicated: "i want to know what happened between you, i am a part of the team and i don't want to be left out". maybe i haven't seen a good anime in a while, but i felt like this openess was really refreshing. i love him sm <3

BUT, i was scared shitless when this mf SWAM OUT INTO THE OCEAN AT NIGHT??!?!?! LIKE BRO. at the start of their training camp i saw where this was going, but i calmed down after makoto reassured rei, i was like "phew, crisis averted" AND IT WAS NOT. they all could have died and i was not okay. and then they just forgot. about that traumatic experience. cool cool

really, every character has something that i like about them. but my favourites are definitely rei and makoto <33

rei cause he is a sweetie, who likes pretty things, is overly logical but very in tune with his emotions and cmon, how could i hate him. he is basically me (i want his glasses). and makoto, cause. ya know. have you seen him??? cutie pie lil blorbo (ᵍʳᵉᵉⁿ ᶜᵒˡᵒᵘʳ ᶜʰᵃʳᵃᶜᵗᵉʳˢ,,,)

and the ending, omg it was so cute!! i was so hyped! THEY WON, and then they got disqualified, BUT THEY WON FRIENDSHIP. seeing rin smiling again with his friends brought tears to my eyes

from supporting characters i rly like Gou and Amakata! Gou is just so determined, supportive and unwilling to give up – she wanted to see her brother happy again and she made it happen! what a good sister <33 for ms amakata i thought she was super funny and sweet. her not always accurate quoting, sunny demeanor and how dead set she was on keeping her past secret lmao

all in all, i enjoyed this series a lot! time for free! eternal summer hehe

peace outttt (❁´◡`❁)

(also, when i started watching i was like hmmmm, yeah haru and rin, then in the middle i went on ao3, saw the haru and makoto fics and was like "HE???" like i didn't think about them before but now i can't stop! but i ship both and also all three of them, that would be fun. in the grand scheme of things it doesn't matter as much to me: i just enjoy the dynamics they have, regardless of if they are romantic or platonic; they all love each other is what im sayin <3)

#free!#free! iwatobi swim club #sunbloom's anime rambles #rei ryugazaki #matsuoka gou #amakata miho #tachibana makoto #makoto tachibana #matsuoka rin #rin matsuoka #sunbloom talks #ksjhdfhdfsjk i love anime #makoto <3 #rei <3 #and the rest #lol

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hoshigray · 11 days

Note

Are you able to right a gojo fic? He pulls you aside after a meeting to a spicy makeout with you that leads to more than just a make out:,)

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: "more than a make out" indeed, lmao

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x afab/fem! reader - explicit reader; minors DNI - canon divergence; you're gojo's partner who works in Tokyo jujutsu tech with him - kissing; making out - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping and pinching) - breast sucking - deep impact position - praising - pet names (angel, baby, cutie, princess, sweetie) - cameos: Ijichi and Yaga - Gojo is a touch-starved fool, bless him lol.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.1k

“Y/n~~!”

“…! Oh, Gojo!”

“Ahh, it’s Gojo-sensei!”

Being the strongest sorcerer in the modern world is a hassle, no matter how much Gojo loves to shake it off as if it’s not. Not that he doesn’t mind it — no, no. If anything, he prides himself in it. It fills his ego, knowing that a scarce few could be compatible with his power. He’s a dependable light for the jujutsu world, sorcerers of the nation thankful that he's not on the wrong side.

But alas, being the best has its taxing side, especially taking in tedious missions across the land and attending mandatory meetings with the entire jujutsu faculty body — not to mention being a teacher. The white-haired sorcerer was a busy man — no other way to explain it. However, the worst thing about it all was that there would be times when he’d have less time to spend with a certain someone who had him in the palm of their hands. And if he keeps being away from them, he might – no, will – malfunction.

You were Gojo’s partner, his sweet baby that he cherished more than anything. You were a faculty member of Tokyo Jujutsu High, making things a little easier for the two of you to meet and elope (professionally). Nevertheless, those moments seem to frequent less and less with how many meetings have Gojo backed up this past week. The poor guy can’t even remember the last time he heard your sweet voice (which is a lie since you call every morning and night; he makes sure you do).

Although, today would be different. Once this meeting with the Kyoto officials ended, he made a straight beeline out of the room to find you. And to his cheerful chuckle, he skips in your direction when he sees you conversing with Yuuji in the hallway. The salmon-haired teen greets his teacher with a high-five and a bow from you.

Yuuji hears Megumi call for him from outside, so the boy dismisses himself with a goodbye and wanders off, leaving you and Gojo to yourselves.

“Hello, Y/n~,” the man says your name with a happy tune, his lanky figure swaying to be close to you.

“Good noon, Gojo,” you greet him again with a modest smile as the tall man walks to you. “How was your meeting? Did the officials give you a tough ti—Mmmph!?”Your boyfriend surprises you with a kiss, taking in your perplexed moan with his pillowy lips. One peck comes after another while Gojo’s hands sneak to your waist. You quickly push him away, but his hold keeps you close to his figure. “G–Gojo, what are you doing!?” You express your concern in confusion, covering your lips with a hand.

“Mmm? What do you mean? I’m greeting my princess with a kiss,” the blindfolded man says so matter-of-factly, beaming his delighted demeanor that nearly blinds you. “I miss you!”

“I miss you, too, but you can’t just—“ He tilts his head as you try to explain. You chew your lip with cheeks boosting in warmth, averting your glance away from his charming face that’s inching closer and closer to yours. His eyes are masked by the black cloth around his face; however, you can still sense the intensity of his gaze. “N-Not in public, Gojo...”

He plays the whining card, bringing you in for a tight hug that could restrain your breathing. “Ehhh, but I haven’t seen or touched you in days! See, we’ve been apart for so long that you’re going back to referring to me by my last name!”

“I always call you by your family name when in the school, no??”

“Yeah, but that’s only for when people are around, not just the two of us!” His complaints are genuine, swaying around with you in his arms. You roll your eyes, listening to him yap more. “Come on, Y/n; it’s been such a hectic week for me, missions after missions, meetings after meetings. Any more than this, and I just might combust — especially when I don’t have time to see my angel.”

You hear him make fake crying noises to your shoulder, reminding yourself how much your tall, strong boyfriend can be such a whiny puppy if he’s away from you for too long. But you can’t kid yourself; you missed spending time with him just as much as he did. “I know; I wanna see you more often, too. Don’t you worry, okay? This week is almost over, so keep pushing through like the tough man you are…Hehe, my strong Satoru.”

The snow-haired sorcerer springs up with a childish smile at the use of his name, his dimples present with the shine of his teeth. “If that’s what must happen, can your strong Satoru ask for another kiss to make his hell a little bearable?”

You give him a look at his request, but his anticipation doesn’t falter. With a sigh, you smile and whisper, “Just a kiss, Satoru?”

He chuckles lightly, drawing his mouth close to yours. “Yes, princess.”

His soft lips land on yours. There’s no restraint as you welcome him, your hands coming around to cup his cheeks before breaking the kiss. “One more,” he says before your nose is brushed away from his. You comply and place another gentler peck, and the man sneaks a hand from your waist to the back of your head. You withdraw your lips again, but Gojo utters another “One more…” Your stomach does flips knowing what game he’s trying to play. Another kiss is received, and his leg sneaks in between yours.

You mewl, finding yourself stuck in this predicament. He’s now in control, using this opportunity to deepen the kiss and make it more passionate, sucking your bottom lip and running his tongue for more access. You have no choice but to accept him, whimpering at the tongue intruding into your oral cavity while his leg moves further and further.

Your hands come to his shoulders, gripping his jacket as the Gojo furthers himself into the kiss. The hand behind your head keeps you steady, keeping him focused on your mouth, where he sucks on your tongue in a way that leaves you breathless — like, actually. After he quits the kiss, you two are gasping for air so hard, and your lips are wet because of him.

“Hahhh, ’Toru, stop,” you wipe spit from your mouth. “We can’t be doing this here…”

Your complaint falls on deaf ears, the sorcerer placing chaste kisses on your cheek. “Hmmm, why not?”

“Mmm..Someone, your students, we’d be caught here…”

Gojo smirks; it’ll never stop being adorable how bashful you are around him, particularly when he expresses his undying affection for you in public. But he will respect your wishes, and the idea that pops into his head makes him giggle.

Before you can process anything, Gojo picks you up with your legs held up and a hand on your back. You squeak at the unexpected action, grabbing a hold of his neck to balance yourself. Your mouth opens to express your bewilderment. Yet one moment, you two are in a hallway of the school; then you’re transported to a familiar room with a bed the next — your bedroom.

You blink in perplexity as Gojo throws you on top of your bed, stammering to find the right words. “Satoru, I wish you’d stop teleporting without letting me know! And don’t you have another meeting to get to!? Why are we in my apart—“ You don’t finish that sentence; you stop yourself once Gojo crawled up on the bed to you. Suddenly, you feel too small to utter a word.

“Sorry, baby,” No, he wasn’t. Not with that childish grin posted on his face. He brings his face to yours, placing more smacks on your lips. “But you’re the one who said we shouldn’t be doing this on school grounds. Heh, you act so cute when you’re shy…”

“No, Satoru, we can’t—Mmmm,” silencing you with kisses was such a vile card, knowing you’d be whimpering under him just from him twirling his tongue with yours. “Mmph..Mmah…! You’re scheduled for…another meet—“

“Shhh, don’t worry; I can be late for a few minutes,” another lie. If Gojo’s late to another meeting, Principal Yaga will put the younger man in a chokehold again. “I’ll make this quick, I promise. So, just let me enjoy you…”

Sucking your tongue is all it takes for you to give up on trying to persuade him out of what he’s doing. Gojo takes off and throws his jacket to the bedroom floor to let his black fitted tee breathe, and his hands initiate unbuttoning your blouse. He then slithers it down to the bottom of your long pencil skirt to pull up, greeting your undergarments with his digits. You jerk at the contact of his middle finger that presses on the damp spot of your panties, earning a faint, salacious laugh from Gojo.

“Awww, did my baby get wet just from kissing earlier?” He rubs the underwear further, soaking the spot more with your fluids. Your thighs tremble, “Did you miss me that much?”

“Sato—Oooh!” He sinks his finger deeper into your entrance; the material barrier is so wet from your essence seeping through. “Your finger...Mmm.”

“What is it, cutie?” He whispers to your ear, and you have to bite down on your lip to suppress a moan. “You want my fingers?” You nod sheepishly, amusing the snow-haired man. “Now, Y/n, you know I want to hear you tell me what you want. Use your words, princess.”

You gulp to satiate your dry throat. “Yess, Satoruu, I want your fingers. Please, let me cum on your fingers…”

“That’s my angel,” he praises before straightening himself between your sheer pantyhose-covered legs. After sliding your damp panties off, he brings a leg to his shoulder and finally slides his blindfold off his face, his hair losing its spiky position and falling with gravity. Cerulean eyes catch a glimpse of your wet cunt in his sights, biting his lip. “Made such a pretty mess all for me, huh.”

His hand returns to your now bare chasm, sliding his ring and middle finger between your soaking folds. You hum to the touch, gripping on your blouse to use as reins. After a few seconds, he inserts the middle digit inside, immediately going to work after he pulls a gasp from your surprised body.

Slow motions sneak up on you, scraping your velvet texture with the blunt fingertip. His slender digit pushed and pulled from inside you, making sure you took him to the knuckle. He swirls it around, evoking shaky screams from him, scratching your inner walls so diligently. And your eyebrows furrow once the movement quickens.

“Hooohh, ohhh!” You threw your head back to the pillows. “Ahhnn, faster, go faster…”

“Hmm? You want me to go faster?” He teases with a perched brow. He does as asked, but with a catch; he sneaks his ring finger inside with your slick as lube. You shriek, two fingers now ravaging your insides and pleasing you with faster shifts. “Like this?” Did you even have to answer that; were you gripping the sheets and hips moving on their own not enough?

“Oooo, fuahhh, fuuckk, ‘Toru, nooo, y’re making me…Hoohh!”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he kisses your calf before placing his lips on your ankle to lick playfully. “Just let me make you feel all good.”

Fuck did Gojo miss this; it’s been more than a week since he’s had his hands on your body like this. The constant meetings have almost made him forget the warmth and plush of your frame. He needed this, like, BAD. He’s barely containing himself now; the image of your slit taking his fingers so well is bubbling his excitement, and the tent of his pants that shields a boner grows painfully hornier.

You were bound to cum on his fingers in no time, howling with an arched back when he does the ‘come hither’ motion and scrapes your inner walls. They contract around his digits as your legs tremble with the surge of your orgasm. Gojo loves the sight and stirs the fingers to tease your keen nerves more. “Good job, sweetie,” he kisses your ankle again while slowly removing his fingers from you, inserting them inside his mouth to lather his tongue with your juices. He almost caves in just from the taste.

But a sudden buzz in the pocket of his pants alerts him. He brings out his phone ringing with a call and presses the green button before pressing the device to his ear. “Yo, Ijichi.”

“Ah, thank goodness you picked up. Where are you; the meeting starts in a few minutes.”

“Mmm, I’m at Y/n’s,” even if you’re in a tiny daze, your face morphed into an expression of shock at his nonchalant honesty. “I’m only here to grab something real quick, and then I’ll head back to the school.”

“Are you sure…?”

He laughs, “Now, Ijichi, are you calling me a liar?”

That was precisely what he was — a whole liar.

“—Taahh, ahhhn, Sa’oruuuuu! Yer hitting shoo deep in—Saaahh!!”

It’s been a solid fifteen minutes after that call with Ijichi, and Gojo is still in the confines of your bedroom. He was very much late; of course, he was. Why would he not be? He finally has this chance to have you to himself, so he’s indulging it however long he wishes.

Gojo ripped you out of your clothes to meet with his clothing on the floor, leaving you bare and nude for him aside from your pantyhose. You’re lying on your side with one leg up on Gojo’s shoulder while the other is between his, and his cock now pushing to and fro inside your chasm that was filled with his come.

His thrusts were sharp and rough, the curve of his dick jabbing areas in your vagina you never thought would be stimulated. Jesus, his length was dangerous, having you babbling incoherent words to the air and reaching so deep inside that you quaked under him. Your brain is stuck in a haze, especially since this is the second time he’s fucking inside you and made you cum a total of three times!

“Ohhmy, Gohhhd! Sato—Ohhhh…!!” He grasps around your leg to plunge himself further and faster, the work of his pelvis having you see stars.

“Hsshhh, God, you feel so fucking good, baby,” he coos sweetly, juxtaposing with the erratic pace of his hips that move your figure with every rut. Azure orbs take in the display before him; your naked body submitted to him to alleviate his week-long stress and please the both of you. Strands of his silverfish-white hair are drenched from the sweat built on his forehead. “—Hmmgh! Shit…keep clamping onto me like that.”

You chew on your lip, sneaking a hand down on your clitoris to whisk your fingers around it. Oh, it feels so good, playing with yourself as your boyfriend massages your insides. “Mmaaah, s’ good...”

“Hmm, what’s that?” His hips now go slow; the stretch his curve causes when entering inside has your toes curl. “What feels good?” He then snaps his pelvis to startle you.

“—Mmmph!! You! Y’u feel so good, ‘Toruuu..!”

“Heh, you feel amazing yourself, Y/n,” returning to an erratic rhythm, Gojo pumps his cock til the base kisses your squelching folds. His balls smack onto you after every push. He then curves downward for his face to be closer for you to hear him, “Hmmnn, you gonna be good and come again, right?”

You nod cursorily, your eyes shut to enhance the feeling of you rubbing on your bud. “Yesshh, I’m so close, I wanna cum…Want you to fill me u—Uuuhhn!!”

“Jesus, you look so fucking hot,” he grins before bringing his mouth to your nipple, his tongue dancing around the tip to harden. “Let’s cum together, okay, cutie?”

He sucks in your nipple as his thrusts go grim, and severe hits to your cunt result in you wailing far from your control. The tip of his cock picks at your silky walls so euphorically that you hum his name. A hand comes to your chest to keep you steady and synced with him, and he keeps rutting into you even when his body shudders as his load is exerted inside your tight slit. And you’re not far from him either; your orgasm seconds away from his hits you hard, and you quiver in the shocks coursing through your body.

As you two rock slowly through your crescendos, your essence mixes with his seed, and your sweaty bodies heave and pant for the third time this session. Gojo releases your nipple from his mouth after withdrawing his dick from inside, and his jizz seeps out of your frame. “Phew, man, how I needed that.”

You respond despite your brain feeling a bit all over the place. “Are you happy now?”

He laughs while kissing your cheek. “Thank you, princess!”

“You’re welcome, Toru,” you shook your head with a meek smile. “But you really should get going; I don’t want you getting in trouble with—“

KNOCK!! KNOCK!! KNOCK!!

An abrupt sound comes from the front door, confusing the both of you as the knock comes from out of nowhere. Nonetheless, you get up and wipe yourself quickly before putting your clothes back on. Gojo does the same as you walk out of the bedroom to see who’s at your door. And once you open the door, your heart meets your stomach.

“Y/n,” it was Yaga, the principal adorning his usual attire and sunglasses.

“Principal Yaga,” you greeted the older man with a hurried bow. “Wh–What can I do for you—“

“He’s here, isn’t he?”

Your lips flatten at the question, using the silence to speak for itself as you move out of the way for the principal to enter. Yaga apologizes for the intrusion before marching into your apartment and presumably going after the person still in your bedroom, who lets out an exclaimed shout of pain from what you can assume was from a punch to the head from his old teacher.

The former instructor strolls back to the front door where you remained; Gojo is dragged on the floor behind him. “Sorry again for the inconvenience,” Yaga puts his shoes back on before exiting your home. You observe the men leave with a heavy sigh, waving goodbye to your snow-haired sorcerer as he’s pulled across the hall like a toddler.

“See ya, sweetie,” he cries out to you without regard to the neighbors hearing him, putting his blindfold back on. “I miss you already!”

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

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rosietaeyongswife · 1 year

Text

stars | yuta nakamoto

genre: fluff, bit of angst wc: synopsis: never let the lost girl become friends with older guys. never. especially if they're friends with yuta nakamoto. an: quick piece of rubbish. rant maybe, idk. lmao i had to write bcs felt like it. admire my yuta nakamoto. i love him.

how much does it take to someone to finaly be able to listen to you? just once. you've always been there for your closest people. did anyone had issues? you were there to help. of course you were, because why not. you're here for it. you did all your best. but where were they when you needed them? nowhere to be seen.

it's always like you were the one to call. one to rant to. whatever. you did your best. never talks about you, but always listen and help others. when you've tried, topic lasted for a minute. next thing was their issue. isn't it unfair? even your own family. you just want to be listened which was near to impossible.

until you met new friends. until you and yuta crushed. most beautiful human being ever to exist. being around yuta felt like you're not just alive but you're actually living. he had never expected anything from you.

"i care." yuta shurgged, while holding you close. "i don't care about all your friends, nor family. knowing enough is enough, y/n. if you want to talk, do it. i'm there for you."

suddenly all you could feel was knot in your stomach. view in front of you was glossy, and tears went down your cheeks. it's bare minimum, you had never recived.

"yuta, i'd like you to hold me. let's just chill together, and stay in a moment. i don't know how much should i be grateful for you. i love you so much."

"don't say obvious things." yuta chuckled, and you could only stare into his pretty eyes. "one day, i want you with me. i want us to go back to japan. i want to spend my best times with you. i want to show you what you deserve. i love you always. you're stars in my dark universe."

yuta was always proud of you. smallest thing you've done, never failed to make him smile. yuta nakamoto is well aware of you. of your feelings. people you've met made you empty inside, and he's willing to do whatever to make you feel as happy as ever.

"you're doing great sweetie." he shows you thumbs up. "i'm recording it."

"yuta, stop."

both of you were in his kitchen. one cigarette in yuta's left hand, phone in his other hand filming how you were baking cupcakes for both of you. it felt embarrassing to be watched. yuta is crazily in love with you.

"i won't, duh. you're all pretty doing it all for us. i made five cupcakes, and here you are doing another ten. you're amazing, darling."

"yuta-" you stopped because he was in your face with phone. "please, you're can't be for real."

"smile for camera. one day, i'll show our kids these videos, you hate." yuta turned his phone, so back camera can film both of you. yuta with cigarrete in between his lips, and you awkwardly smiling at him. "to my future kids. here's your sweetest mother. she's still a bit embarrassed, because she's all new to affection and being someone's number one, but don't worry. daddy's taking care of her."

"yuta, why are you talking about kids?" you chuckled. "it's like, future? like too much to be talked about."

"i can promise you, it's true."

"whatever. hello our future kids. we're doing cupcakes because yuta said it's amazing idea. as you can see, he isn't the best authority to follow. bad influence for kids." you rolled you eyes. "why don't you throw this off."

"i won't. your dad is fuckin amazing, kids."

"he is." both of you were laughing. "yuta nakamoto is the best person i have ever met. i can promise you, everyone loves him so will you. your parents are fuckin best."

yuta ended video, and was laughing. "i love that my y/n is finaly letting herself be. i love you, darling."

"love you, yuta. forever."

maybe there's finaly person who wants to listen to you :)

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redraven3093 · 9 months

Text

Catching up with Philza QSM Vod

July 22

hai phil-Early birbs lets go

You do have so many shits laying around

AUSIE AUSIE OIOIOI

Tallulah Darling hi :D its SO early for u-CHAYANNE HONEY YU AWAKE! - KIDDO buddy You give us ALL a HEARTATTCAK

Yeah scold him Phil >:(- PFFT Tallulah! - CHAYANNE PLS SHE HAVENT SLEPT

ETOILES WOULD BE PUT IN PRISON

Safety first :D- no joint room

Well the kid literally have been sleeping a lot Lullah what do you expected?

PFTT 3 HOURS? CHAYANNE BUDDY PLS REST

Pretty – LMAO PHIL PLS THE 4th WALL PHIL

Yeah the room is not orange enough- Gordon ramsay tangent-

OMG TALLULAH SWEETY WHY DIDN’T YOU HAVE ANY FOOD?!- AVACADO toast FOR THE WIN!- CHAYANNE you too!

Food Check- DÉCOR time – Judging ur vibe-

Oh no u stuck- YAY FREDOM – IKEA LETS GOO

Lol the kids- all pumpkins- YAH STEAL THE RICH

Oh what about forever?- DID YA WIN SON??- AWWW noo

Woah that’s far- that is such a unique pattern- jumping blok-

Where is she?- PlANT TIME- WOAHH COOL- hey Tallulah

Oh ? good news first- white puffball U can eat them??

Yeah so Storage rooms

Grappling time- HERE WE GO

Yeah must be Dappers doing- Dapper is so crazy- HOLLY SHIT DAPPER U ARE CRAZY- ITS IN ALPHEBITICAL ORDER?!- It’s the Tesseract

Lol yeah you guys spend way to much time marveling dapper’s farm

Lolwas that enough?- fastest adventure we had- yeah don’t wory Lullah ur safe now

YEAH DÉCOR TIME AGAIN- yeah this looks good

Oh hey Tubbo

Oh?- Spanish music?- dance time cant hear the song thou

If you don’t know about love FUQ OFF lol- opp TOXIC- good guy behavior?

Lol yeah put all of it

CHAYANNNE- we did all that huh

Oh wait? They have titles??- YEAH CHAT GET YOUR TOAST

That is so cool- oh yeah you did that

AWW So CUTE

Yeah it look so good

AW YEAH WILL’S LETTERS

Phil’s pls he was assassinated by a baby

PFFT PHIL PLS NOT THAT ONE

A picture for the whole fam

Ahh a trip down the memory lane

Ah yes his favorite pic

Lol he got a pc-yeah not a good idea to put it next to the fire-well a kid got to have his fun

AWW THAT IS SO CUTE :D

AGUSTIN

Lol “no. MINE”

New song- yeah2 vod watchers cant hear anything lol- SPYxFAMILY??-OHH COMEDY that one

Yeah that is sweet

LET HIM COOK

Yeah it is pretty

LMAO Phil pls-PERMITED LETS GO

Phil pls

YEAH LETS GO to the TOP

Wicked lets go

Oh? A shulker box? Eyyo?

Lol bird brain go brr

“Probably trash “he said LIES

PFFT LMAO he did it the son of a ditch

Lol its all fun Chayanne don worry- phil pls

STAR GAZING LETS GO

To the uppies place-safe and sound

Heloo-it DOES LOOK like a nest – birdza strikes again-The crows nest :D

AWW :D- so cute- an ECLIPSE- CUTE-

YEAH BED TIME STORY – OHH a SUPERNOVA

Oh the Beetlejuice :D- Yeah INFO DUMP

YEAH that is Cool

Gotta pay that bill

Yeah he did do that- Chayanne pls buddy

Yeah well they have reasons to be paranoid Tallulah, years of experience ca do that

:( PHILZA – YES WE DID SO PLS STAY SAFE

:’)

AWW KIDS WE LOVE YOU TOO – what happened with the squid?- aww buddy

Ah shit, imma cry – music paid actor

Goofy picture

Oh? – AWW KIDDO :’D

UGH MY HEART – AWW BUDY – PFT Tallulah sweety

AWW YOU TWO

Holly Lullah u have plenty

YEAH BED TIME

Opp ur stuck - oh okay good

Old chair

Etoiles have high standards- lmao- ??? holy – opp she voided

Question time- iron? Oh its not/j- pfft

Opp welcome back!- pfft

Yeah lets goo- oh so the Fed didn’t kidnaped you?

Yeah go get rest kiddos- oh that’s okay Tallulah

a hotel brunt down?-

who

OH FUCK OFF YOU BINARY BASTARDS

STOP TAKING PHOTOS U SHIT

WALTERBOB?!

FUCK OFF

STAY AWAY FROM CHAYANNE YOU SON OF DITCH

YEAH GO OFF PHIL- YEAH AND STAY THE FUK AWAY YA SHIT

Yeh he did- scuff encounter- YEAH NO MERCY- NOT IF HE WAS THE BINARY BASTARD

Vote for Walter

Pfft ever the humble Tallulah- okay stop fighting

Yeh MUSIC BOX

STAY SAFE KIDDOS

GOODNIGHT TALLULAH CHAYANNE

a fresh BRUISED Lettuce

BYE KIDS

Yeah those guys are creeps

?? oH YEaH IT DID- Failed egg? I mean why did the FEDs even made the EGGS

Chat?- PFT THT IS TOO BIG

YEY BYE PHIL

#don't mind me #qsmp #qsmp eggs #qsmp philza #qsmp chayanne #qsmp tallulah #qsmp binary entity #qsmp live blogging #qsmp liveblog #qsmp vodblog #?

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cuethediscoandthedrinks · 2 years

Note

Maybe some headcanons about early days of dating Jim Hopper? 👉👈 or maybe general dating... 🌺

nice idea!

i'm giving full warning that i went off and it got monster long and random but enjoy lovelies <3

dating headcanons + chief jim hopper~

🧡he's not a huge fan of overt pda, so straight off the bat the relationship would be lowkey

🧡if you were in the early stages, maybe some shared flirty looks and a hand to the mid of your back would be the go-to moves. not enough to draw obvious attention, but enough to let you know he's there, yk?

🧡although if you were more serious, some brushing up behind you; cuddling w your head in his arms; maybe some lil not so secret makeouts at work would be his jam too

🧡i think depending on who you were/how you met, the dates would range too. coworker? mostly some back and forth flirting on the job; some sarcastic phrases, a couple of "well.. we'll see 'bout that sweetie", and many an "i told you so.. goddamn it"s.

🧡ofc he'd only love it more when you retorted with an equally sassy remark, but a small blush and "pfft" would be enough to keep him satisfied with the chill dating atmos tbh

🧡likely nicknames too. 'sugar', 'doll' are usually the common day-to-day ones, but also an occasional sarcastic 'sweetie' when he's caught u out about something, or is trying to win an argument would happen too

🧡if you happened to meet in a different context, without a preexisting relationship, i'd imagine some more formal 'date' dates,

🧡maybe a classic dinner and a movie, bc he's been out of the dating game for a while, and references back to like lowkey 70s dating almost solely the cutepie

🧡could also be an event; maybe an annual hawkins celebration of some kind, or maybe a holiday like halloween. something that's like a "well, i've gotta go anyway, so idgaf if you do or don't but like, i'm down if u are, but i also don't care, but pls go i love u" kind of vibe;

🧡he's ultimately a little insecure about putting his heart on the line, so honestly, i think he'd dig if you took charge and let him know what you'd like to do too

🧡as long as he can spend time with you, and you're comfortable enough to open up to him (and him you, which is relatively easy, bc his personality changes for legit no one), he's pretty content with any kind of date although hopefully something with less physical exertion, and more eating and shitting on things that piss him off lmao

🧡once you're past the more formal dating zone, there's likely a lot of car drives into the country, listening to his favourite tunes; he'd love to share music taste with you, and would ofc be up for a big debate over who reigns supreme in the soft!rock and jazz genres

🧡lots of stopping for ice cream, maybe some strolls or sitting at park benches when he's got days off;

🧡a lot of him taking charge if walking in the forest too, bc he wants to be 'manly' and forge a path w his big man boots. also swatting away flies w his hat bc he's the size of a literal giant and it's not only you who digs his enormous stature, ur now also competing w the wildlife

🧡if not, then usually on rainy days in, a date would consist of laying on the couch, watching a couple movies and cuddling together but don't tell anyone bc he needs to be big scary cop man grr grr

🧡depending on his comfort level with you, he'd either be lowkey chatty, or more quiet and introspective. the occasional reminiscing of old memories, maybe sharing an anecdote or two, but not a lot of wordy convos much of the time

🧡if he's feeling extra social, he may just flip the convo on you and ask you a bunch of questions, being a surprisingly good, intent and caring listener when he's feeling more lowkey.

🧡and ofc, he'd love nothing more than to see you get angry abt something and help you shit on it like crazy, just getting it all out and vibing with that emotional catharsis, bc the one emotion he does do well expressing is anger lmao

🧡i see him as more of a doer than a thinker; like, he doesn't dig getting bogged down in his past trauma with anyone else tbh. maybe late 2am chats when he can't sleep, and feels extra vulnerable you could get some deeply personal, nostalgic energy, but other than that he'd rather say nothing that say something all heavy and emotional

🧡bc of this, during dating and his relationship, i think he's express those internal sentiments w a lot of projecting his issues onto observations about others tbh;

🧡likely via people watching, ranting about others, and ofc movies too. "well, of course she cheated on him. he's barely home, and would rather work all day.", "yeah, i call bullshit on that", "no, i don't buy that for a second.", "yeah..NO"-type phrases, yk?

is also a pretty big fan of reality tv and survivalist movies/tv shows, but u didn't hear that from me.

🧡a lot of talking him down and lowkey deescalating when ur watching movies or talking about the news; bc he'll either give up and get pissed before listening to the end of your story, or he'll get riled up and go on a mini-hop!rant; i.e. that's why your convos are usually about doing things as opposed to exploring ideas and hypotheticals, lmao

🧡i feel like despite being the one to broach the dating situ, he'd be a little more wary of going right in feeling-wise

🧡he likes you, sure, but he's not about to dump his whole heart and soul into a relationship that could end in heartbreak, but deep down, he's a big ole' teddybear y'all we know this don't lie

🧡although if he did end up trusting you and wanting to take things further, he'd eventually just come out and say it

🧡i don't think he's one for keeping everything pent up, and keeping secrets. if he has something to say, he'll legit just say it

🧡he's a big flower guy too i think. although he does this cool hop!man thing, where he buys flower types not based on what he assumes you'll like, but, like, just what he likes. he lowkey sees it like buying anything else, except for you

🧡so..toilet paper, he's getting the soft obv; beer, he's buying his fave brand bc ofc ??; likewise, flowers, he's getting pansies or some yellow shit bc yellow is his fave colour, so you probably like it too, right ??

🧡like, he just works in that steam-roll kind of way, where he doesn't overthink things. there are like 2-3 max steps to any action in his life. any more, and he's legit not doing it, or smushing it right back into 2-3 steps

🧡once you've been dating for a while, it becomes apparent that he's not a dating guy though. he's not for going all around town, serial dating or meeting a bunch of different people. he's not casting a wide net, like at all

🧡he settles quick into the relationship part of dating. stopping off at his house w groceries is like a normal thing for him. cooking him a meal, and bringing some to his work is kind of a given after a while

(highkey he loves packed lunchboxes; like, a little note w a smiley face, some apple slices and a sandwich cut into triangles is his JAM fight me bc he's a big softie and i now choose this as canon)

🧡same with just meeting after work, or school or whatever, and just going to his or your place. 'date' dates soon fall out of fashion, bc i think he sees it as more of a courting thing than a long-term vibe

🧡just chilling and feeling at ease with each other is more his thing tbh. he likes you, so he dgaf where you two go, as long as you're both happy and chill.

🧡like i said, and maybe it's a little too boring for some, but legit going back to his place, lying on the couch or in bed, eating, fucking and sleeping is probs an ideal end/beginning of the day for him,

🧡doesn't have to be more complicated than that

🧡he's had to deal with nuance to hell w his past relationships, and his work gets arduous trying to figure out the mysteries of demogorgons and a bald and american millie bobby brown

🧡he's just here to date u and chill, he needs some good beer, a cuddly partner and a day off and he's a happy camper ngl

hope u enjoyed lovelies! i dug this prompt omgbrcat, thanks for requesting. :)

also, feel like requesting too? here's the link, i'd love to hear it!

#stranger things x reader #stranger things #hopper x reader #hopper x you #hopper fluff #stranger things fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #jim hopper fluff #jim hopper x reader #stranger things headcanons #stranger things drabbles #chief jim hopper x reader #cuethediscoandthedrinks #cuethedisco #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff

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creepycassidy · 2 years

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Hi yes! i meant how alternate albert would react to reader feeling jealous and insecure in their relationship.

Yes!! Of course!! I hope you don’t mind that I set the scene a little bit (this turned out longer than expected)

also lmao at my use of a gif but there’s not enough content for what I would consider “Alt Albert” to look like aka without the mask 😭 I swear I’m about to start using Arthur Harrow as a fc for him

Alternate Universe!Albert Shaw x Jealous Reader - HCs

Warnings: None

Read below the cut! ⬇️

Honestly, Al doesn’t do much to make you jealous!! (On purpose, at least)

He doesn’t really have friends or people he’s close to other than you and Max (sorta) and he’s never been one to catch someone’s eye.

Sometimes he can get a bit chatty though, but it’s innocent. He likes to talk a lot and tries to be friendly. He’s a magician and he works in retail. It’s basically his job to be charismatic. He can also be incredibly scatterbrained at times.

So, Al would be absolutely oblivious if someone other than you was flirting with him.

It does happen from time to time though, mostly with a single mom at a child’s birthday party here and there. He’s good with kids, can you really blame them?

They usually saunter up to him, giggling at his jokes and batting their lashes as they give compliments and ask questions about the performance.

“Oop, eyeah, no…I can’t tell! Magician’s secret!Would you like to see another one, though?”

He’s totally blind to their true intentions.

So, if you started acting funny after a particular party, Al would be so confused to say the least.

“Hey…hey, (Y/N). What’s up? I think we did pretty good today! Did you see the kids’ faces when Snowball came out?” He’d ask, giggling as he tapped you on your shoulder on the way home.

Your unusual silence would be deafening for him, and he’d take it as a hint to quiet down for once.

Al would spend the rest of the night worried and unable to focus on anything as he’d rack his brain for what he might have done wrong.

He always jumps to the worst conclusions.

That doesn’t mean he’d exactly leave you alone, though.

Throughout the night, he’d silently perform little acts of service for you like heating up your dinner and wrapping a blanket around your shoulders.

He’d sit on the other end of the couch, glancing at you through misty eyes. He wants to reach out and touch you so badly, but keeping himself at a distance is an act of service, too.

If you were still silent when the two of you went to bed that night, Al wouldn’t be able to handle it anymore.

He’d roll over, brushing the hair from your face. “Are you- um, did I do something bad?”

When you come clean about why you’d been acting so strange, he’d feel like such an idiot for not realizing.

“Jealous…? Please, don’t be upset at me, but I don’t really get it…Why?”

Even as you explained yourself, Al wouldn’t quite be able to wrap his head around the fact that you felt jealous or insecure over him.

You’re so wonderful! And gorgeous! And he sees himself as such a fool. It’s a blessing to be loved by you, in his eyes.

Al would scoot closer as he sat up in bed, looking at you incredulously.

“Sweetie pie, I- I don’t even look at anyone else. I don’t know where you got that idea but y’know if anything I should be the one worried…”

He’d be so sincere in the way he speaks to you, his eyes soft and understanding.

“I’m a big ol’ goof but not that big! Pinkie promise, okay? I never ever, ever break those.” Al would reassure you as you linked pinkies and he rubbed his nose with yours for a bunny kiss.

“I love, love, love you bunches, silly.”

Al would hold onto you extra snug that night with his face pressed into your neck while you spooned, not letting go of your hand as he slept.

In the future, he’d try to be extra aware of things that might bother you.

He was already super clingy with you, e.g., holding your hand everywhere you go. This would prompt him to become a little extra affectionate, though.

Catch him trying to introduce you to everyone new he meets.

He’d tug you over by your hand, proudly proclaiming just how wonderful you are.

“This is (Y/N)! We’re sorta two funny little peas in a pod, huh?”

Al loves you very much, and he wants to know that you know it.

Enjoy this? Like, reblog, or buy me a coffee! ☕️

#anon request #creepycassidy #the grabber #the black phone #albert shaw #x reader #ethan hawke #the grabber x reader #alternate universe #the grabber headcanons #headcanons

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