#(Also I really need a name for that AU and if any of y'all have ideas feel free to share)

[mydnite-the-space-wolpertinger]

I kinda wanted to make webcomics originally but I think that even though I can write and I can draw I don't really have the motivation to make a comic(or even an idea on where the fuck to begin)

But you know what I do have the motivation for? Writing. Aparently. Just open a word document and type. Make a little narrative.

[luvvixu]

mind over matter pt. 1

synopsis: witness how your marriage was bound to fall apart with you on the front seat and your husband gojo had missed the show—now, he gotta figure out the story on his own.

tags: arrange marriage au, angst, husband!gojo, mean!gojo, mention of blood, miscarriage, strong languages, some unsettling scenarios, emotional trauma, read at your own risk

a/n: y'all, im back after ghosting this page for way too lonh cuz im on my process of taking psychology. yep! this random bitch is up for being a psychologist despite her mental health place amidst the fluctuating status. and you know what's crazy? my sanity is slowly decomposing! all thanks to that one mf and one chapter in which im not going to name about (gege and jjk chapter 261)

previous / masterlist / next

it all started when he started caring for you.

after being inside an arranged marriage for like five years, satoru was confident with himself that he doesn't need a wife to console his woes as he is perfectly capable all by himself.

to say the least, the start of your marriage was a definition of an absolute disaster. clearly, you and satoru were like a magnet in the same pole, it can never collide despite how many efforts you push on both magnets.

from fights, misunderstanding, up to almost divorce after you caught him kissing another girl when you decided to give him a visit during his mission.

you were hurt, yes. but you would always tell yourself that neither of you want this marriage, so being hurt when there's no even love is called invalid. yet, you can't still help it but to feel somewhat jealous because he was supposed to be your husband—but oh well.

your family begged you to stay as it was for the peace of mind and safety of your clan. you snorted sarcastically as you wondered if they ever cared for your personal peace of mind and safety also.

nevertheless, you still stay inside this loveless marriage and maintain the gojo surname. you forgive him even though he's not explaining himself nor asking for your forgiveness.

as for satoru, he's aware that he's being a dick to you. his reason is that this marriage was his least priority as it was a hindrance for him. so basically and truth may hurt, he thinks you're only a hindrance and a distraction from the higher ups.

there were times where he would bury himself with work so he doesn't have to go to his original home and breathe the same air as you.

there were also times where he spent almost two months without seeing you or even communicating with you. it was like you didn't exist in his life nor he doesn't have a wife!

although, he is not that cruel to the point that he would slam the fact in your face. no, he's just leaving his presence until you feel it yourself that he doesn't want you.

his shenanigans would continue for almost a year until that night occurred.

that night when it was your wedding anniversary and he came home very late after fighting some annoying curse. he took a swearing underneath his breath when the stinky smell of curse blood hit his nose.

scrunching up as he was about to proceed to his own room (despite being married, you two sleep in a separate room) to clean up when he saw you up by the garden. you are currently watching how your little seedlings grow into beautiful flowers swaying along the air with a calm look on your face.

your husband broke the silence by asking you what are you doing this late. in which you replied that you couldn't sleep as you slowly looked at him.

satoru watched your face, it did not even flinch with any kind of emotion—nothing, just nothing. you're basically acting like a robot to him, and he hates it.

"i'll prepare a warm bath for you." you mumbled, standing on your feet and was about to leave when he grabbed your arm.

"i heard what happened earlier." satoru said slowly, as if he's being careful on his words which was very out of character for him.

"really? great." detaching from his hold, you left him no chance and instantly left.

"y/n." the man followed you until both of you reached the bathroom. you paid him no attention and just did the usual things you do, prepare him a bath.

"talk to me, please." his tone becomes soft, pleading. turning the water on, you refused to turn around, you refused to make physical contact with him, you refused to let him see the tears brimming in your eyes.

"go on. say what you want to say. i'm listening." you mentally curse yourself for almost stuttering. satoru looked at you, eyes finally unveiling an emotion. he aches to hold you for some reason but to think that he doesn't want to upset you even further, he stops. all he can do is watch you serve him.

"do you want to keep it?" he asked quietly, his ocean blue eyes dropping on your stomach. getting uncomfortable, you tried to hide it.

splash, splash, splash, you did not answer him.

"i said, do you want to keep it?" satoru asked once again. this time, his voice was a bit louder than before.

"i don't know. do you want to?" you asked him back the question, quietly.

your husband went quiet. having a child is not part of your plan but you have to because that's your purpose of marrying him, to bear an heir. now, satoru was asking you nicely if you want to keep it when in the first place, it should happen this way.

"how many months?"

"two."

"and you didn't tell me?"

"do you want to know?"

"of course i want to know. that's literally my child in there." he pointed to your belly with a slight frustration on his face.

you did not say anything back, just continuing your duties as his wife—wife on papers. satoru was growing upset, tired, even angry at you. where was the talkative and fierce look that you have? where's the harshness in your voice? why do you look so vulnerable now?

"you can take a bath now. i'll be downstairs to prepare you dinner."

"y/n, wait—"

*slam*

before satoru could even stop you, you already left, leaving him in all silence. the husband heaves a deep sigh within him as he recollects the events prior to this day. he remembers how he acted when he discovered to ijichi that you went to the hospital and went back home with a pregnancy result in your pocket.

satoru remembers almost getting killed by the special curse when the news caught him totally off guard. you two only have intercourse when both are drunk after coming home from shoko's birthday and that's it. you also told him that you were on pills so he's relieved. but how?

what if—

no, no, no. you wouldn't. you wouldn't do that to him. you are his little loyal wife and even though both of you aren't on good terms, he trusted your loyalty…or was he? were you?

everything was so messed up that he couldn't think of anything even after taking a shower and now he's on his way downstairs to eat dinner. once he was in the kitchen, he saw you almost absentmindedly cutting the vegetables.

satoru took a seat, quietly. he was watching you as your back was facing him. his six eyes weren't dumb to notice how much weight you are slowly losing. unconsciously, satoru was clutching his fists tightly.

"i bought you your favorite milk tea. it's in the fridge, you can drink it later." your voice seemingly dropped him from his daze. satoru looked at you once more, only to find out that you're still not facing him back.

"o…okay, thanks."

minutes later, you place a plate of curry in front of him. satoru noticed that there's only one plate on the table, which was his.

"where's your meal?"

"i already ate." oh right, it was literally midnight now. you should be asleep by now, yet here you are, serving your husband. also, why does it seem like satoru was hoping to eat dinner with you? it is unusual, to be honest.

for your five years of marriage, you two would only eat together for formal matters. but with a simple domestic setting like this, there's no way a peace would occur if the two of you shared a table and a meal.

while he is eating, satoru watches you grab the said milk tea from the fridge and place it in front of him. "just leave the dishes on the sink. i'll wash them later." and with that, you left the dining room.

the food was great, it was very delicious. satoru can't deny that you're great at cooking, and you really have a specialty when it comes to curry like this. but why does this meal taste bitter? perhaps, was it because of the taste of his conscience? he doesn't know.

the six eyes ate in silence. he was planning to talk to you later about everything. but anyway, satoru has been eyeing the milk tea you bought for him. now this wasn't unusual. everytime you would go out, you would always buy him some of his favorites, mostly food.

like there's a time where you bought him his favorite mochi, crepe cakes, churros, ice creams—basically every dessert or food stalls you happened to pass by. it warms his heart, though. there's also a time where he anticipated what kind of sweet delicacy you would give him next.

anyway, satoru finished eating his meal. he was drinking the milk tea you gave to him while searching for you. he saw you sitting on the same spot when he first saw you this evening, by the patio of your garden. silently, satoru took a seat beside you with a mindful distance between you two.

"can we talk?" he started. in which you reply with a soft hum. satoru finds himself gulping, he sets aside his drink first before mimicking your posture—wrapping his arms on his folded legs.

"so um, since there's a baby now…i'd like to discuss this matter with you, properly. i was thinking about…moving you in one of the jujustu high's dorms." satoru nibbles the straw of the sugary drink, absentmindedly.

"it's for safety measures, since i'm not always at home and the risk will be doubled by now. but if you're inside the campus, a lot of sorcerers would be able to protect you." he added.

"okay." you did not even question him or even argue with him, you just simply agree without a second thought.

the man could feel himself gulping, the bitterness increasing despite the sweet liquid he was drinking. he's starting to get uncomfortable the way you are currently acting.

also, come to think of it, you agreed to temporarily live in jujustu high—does that mean you are keeping the baby? satoru couldn't help but to finally ask you.

"d…does that mean—"

"the baby has nothing to do with us. i'm not that cruel to take its life." before satoru could beat you, you already beat him.

"when will i be moving out?"

satoru gulped the growing rare anxiousness down to his throat. "probably next week. give me some time to deliver this news to the higher ups." you just mumbled an okay as your response.

"y/n, are you really sure about this?" the man couldn't really pinpoint your decision. although you made it explicit, he still couldn't comprehend you.

"i'm okay with anything. it's just you who didn't. also, if you are planning to ask me about keeping the child once again, go ask yourself instead. your decision is my decision." you replied.

satoru made a mental note that your voice sounds more tired than before. it kinda ignited something that he was not used to feeling before as literally a man-god himself who's full of pride.

"i'll be resting now. have a good night." he did not stop you, in fact, he thinks it's for the better. satoru could only follow you by his gaze as you enter your own room.

yes, your own room. the two of you did not share the same room. you two couldn't even bear to eat together, what more on sleeping together. this is not what satoru meant when he asked you to talk. but oh well, guess he should also call this a night. with that, satoru retreated to his own room and slept.

fast forward, you moved to jujutsu high and started teaching as a history teacher in a world full of related curses(suggested by satoru) since you're an alumni at this school like your husband. you like that idea too since it's a great way to distract yourself from everything.

currently, you are watching your third year students train themselves along with the second years and the first years. it was quite a good sight since all of them have a nice and strong potential as a sorcerer.

suddenly, one of your husband's students came to you with a big smile on his face. that must be yuuji, the vessel for the infamous king of curses. you always adored him, he's a good kid. but you couldn't help but to be saddened by the fact that he was literally carrying a big burden over his life.

"y/n sensei, good afternoon!" he waved at you before taking a seat nearby you. behind him, you saw his two other friends—your husband's students too.

"oi, you're being too loud." megumi scolded his friend. he was worried that yuuji's loudness was too much for your situation, your pregnancy.

"it's fine, megumi." you just chuckled. "i have some extra chocolate bars here, you three can have it." the trio thanked you happily, while you just smiled in return.

"by the way, we have a question for you, y/n sensei." yuuji said, munching on the chocolate. you asked him to shoot the question but he suddenly hesitated, looking at his two friends for support.

when he received the support he needed, he took a deep breath. "y/n sensei, we were wondering about your husband a-and…" yuuji trailed off. you already know what he meant, so you didn't wait for him any further.

"oh, i suppose you are curious because you haven't seen my husband even though i technically lived here?" the smile still lingers on your face as you watch them nod their heads.

there's something that you forgot to mention to them, they don't know that their teacher is your husband and the father of your child. you were prepared for a situation like this, though.

megumi on the other hand, could've known this beforehand since satoru took care of him during his childhood. then your marriage came through and your husband was already taking care of megumi, but it was kept a secret to everyone—including him.

stroking your six months belly, a recent hobby of yours when you want to seek some comfort. "he was a busy man. most of his job requires being out of town. but he never fails to shower me with love by making sure that we still communicate despite his busy schedule."

"lately, we've barely talked. yet, he promised me that he will finish all of his jobs and tasks before going home to me. probably that's when our child is about to be born." you sigh just to justify this facade.

the students seem to believe your story. although you're quite worried that they might tell this to gojo and your cover will be blown. you planned to talk about this to him, anyway.

"that must've been hard, y/n sensei." nobara mumbles out of sympathy. she was worried for you and your child due to the absence of your husband.

if only they knew that your experience was much harder.

"you could always come to us, y/n sensei. we will not hesitate to help you and your child." beaming brightly as the other two agreed, you really adore yuuji. the amount of softness he gave to you is something that your future child would like to possess.

"thank you, you three. now, you all better go back to training. i will be heading to shoko since i promised to visit her." watching as the three wave their good-byes to you, you couldn't help but to feel an urge to protect them at all cost. probably due to your maternal instinct but whatever, you just hoped they would stay safe.

another fast forward, you are on your way towards shoko's office to spend your free time. knocking softly on her wooden door, shoko opens the door with a smile on her face.

"how's my little mama doing?" she engulfed you with a hug, which you returned warmly.

"good. the morning sickness did not attack me today, thank goodness." you said as you took a seat on her sofa.

shoko also commented that she was happy too. as mentioned before, stroking your six month old baby bump is a must on a daily basis. you are now used with a thought and feeling of a growing child inside you.

"and how're you and dickhead gojo?" shoko changes the topic.

"we were just fine like i have said before."

your friend heave the deepest sigh you've ever known. "just fine? y/n, do you want me to say the like i have said before too?"

"sho, ever since we knew that we're having a baby, we really tried our best to be compatible with each other. but we just couldn't." it's true, on the exact tomorrow of that eventful night wherein gojo discovers your pregnancy, he tried to make it up to you by lessening the sparkling arguments, making sure you are well feeded, and even showering you with things your eyes would have landed on.

you are delighted, of course. even though he absolutely fails his duty as your husband, at least he's trying his best to be a good father for your child. you appreciate him for that and also start to open your heart and pour a little more trust to him.

however, you are not dumb to notice the faint smell of a female's perfume and lipstick stain on his neck whenever he's with you. your heart slowly closes once again and your little more trust shatters.

once you saw yourself crying silently—feeling betrayed and angry for yourself on trusting him shortly after that. guess old habits never die, you are crying about something you've already expected. self-blaming is an understatement for letting your guard absolutely down.

gojo's still a jerk even though you had his baby. i should've expected this. having a baby doesn't mean he's going to change for me.

"we both tried, sho—we both tried. but we just couldn't." your voice dropped its tone once more. you still felt bitter even if it happened way back like two months ago.

"or he just couldn't." she snorted sarcastically.

you both knew she's right, gojo just couldn't. for years of being married, you unfortunately learned how to love a man like him who doesn't even give a one shit about you. tragic. very fucking tragic. if only you could see yourself directly, you would laugh at her nonstop.

"maybe this marriage is meant to be loveless—"

*slam!*

"yo shoko, i need—oh…" the door suddenly bursts open as it reveals your hot issue for today and probably for the rest, your husband gojo. you could tell that he was also surprised (but he shouldn't be) to see you here in shoko's infirmary.

"learn to fucking knock, gojo." shoko hissed at the white haired male.

"oh sorry. am i interrupting something?" he asked, looking at everything but you. he refused to spare you even a small glance, which you kinda do the same.

"you're not. now what do you need?" shoko was the one who answered him.

before gojo could even open his mouth , you already excused yourself. "i'll be taking my leave now. thanks for the check up, shoko." and then you left, leaving shoko and gojo with an awkward silence.

"aren't you going to talk about your business or maybe you want me to kick you out?" shoko sarcastically made a comment.

"right…" satoru cleared up his throat. for some reason, he doesn't know why he's suddenly getting iffy.

"ho…how's the child doing?"

"you have to be fucking kidding me." shoko groaned loudly. somehow, she expected this, but she couldn't believe that she would actually encounter this.

"y/n was just right there moments ago and you didn't even bother to ask her that yourself?!" the doctor could feel herself getting really annoyed. the truth may hurt but she's getting annoyed by the two of you.

fight here, ignore there—ignore there, fight here.

"bet she told you that we're not on good terms even though we really tried to work it out. yet, you're seemingly acting clueless." satoru snorted sarcastically. he's not dumb that you're telling stories to your friend, shoko.

the doctor rolled her eyes. she was this close from smashing his old friend's face to the wall to wake him up and stop being an idiot. "every fucking time, gojo. but that should not be an excuse to not talk to her. you two are still married for god's sake, and now, there's even a child along the way. i can see how much effort y/n has put in your marriage, you must do the same."

"don't you dare to compare her efforts to mine, you know nothing." he growls.

"but i sure know how shitty you are."

something inside satoru snaps. "why are you being angry at me?! you've been like this since we got married. always defending y/n, but what about me?! i have been your friend since highschool and you just met that girl! wouldn't it be unfair to side with someone whom you just met?!"

"you're asking me that when you have six eyes and yet, you can't see how much she suffers from you?!”

“but what about me? am i not suffering too?!”

how did we get here? things are getting pretty out of hand. two friends getting fired up because of a marriage that was about to fall apart. one being inside the marriage while the other one has the eye inside the marriage.

both shoko and gojo have their own sides but it all leads back to one thing, you are involved.

“you don't know how much pressure i take just because of that fucking marriage. everyday that i woke, another constant nagging from these bastards of higher ups. i'm getting so, so tired and i just want to…”

“just want, what? end your marriage by divorcing her?”

the moment the last syllables escaped her lips, she already knew the answer.

“fucking gojo.” shoko mumbles under her breath. “if you want to fix your life, you better not act dumb.”

satoru was still caught silent. his wide eyes trailed on the floor and unable to move. shoko saw how she hit the point. sighing over herself, she motioned the door. “get out, gojo. if you're gonna rethink your life choices, do it in your home with your wife.”

and with that, without a word, satoru left her clinic feeling heavy and defeated.

along the hallway, he saw you. satoru saw you looking at him with horror in your eyes—for the first time in one month, you finally looked him in the eyes, but it's filled with fear and tears.

“y/n, i—” just like what he had done before he left shoko's clinic, you left without saying a word.

satoru felt everything become hazy, his knees were trembling, his six eyes were stinging, his lips were turning white on how hard he bites them. the man shuddered in disappointment, you must have heard everything.

his feet act on their own and chases you, holding you by the wrist. but it was torn away immediately after you forcefully snatched it back. while doing so, satoru didn't fail to notice the hot tears streaming on your pale face, in which you immediately wiped it out.

“y/n, i-it’s not what you think. i…” as much as satoru would like you to hear himself, he hasn't gotten the words. he was left stuck by his own thoughts and self-doubt that he puts himself into shame.

meanwhile, you thought you could've just walked away from the scene. but from the moment you hear shoko and satoru exchange heated words, it gets you glued to the floor and unable to move. despite her clinic being semi-soundproof, you hear everything. even if you're not there in the room physically, you seemingly know everything.

“you don't know how much pressure i take just because of that fucking marriage.”

“everyday that i woke, another constant nagging from these bastards of higher ups. i'm getting so, so tired and i just want to…”

“y/n,” satoru called your name. his tone was very far from you used to. you grow accustomed to him saying your name venomously, but now it seems like he's saying your name delicately and vulnerable…and satoru hates being vulnerable.

“i know what you're thinking. i accidentally eavesdropped but i didn't t hear everything.” you internally praise yourself for being a great actress. you thank yourself for not stuttering and not sounding so dejected.

but you lied. you're a terrible liar. you heard everything. you heard every single thing that escaped his lips during his argument inside your friend's office. and you feel like dying, his words hurt you so much more than any deadly curses.

“have you eaten already? do you want me to prepare you for a bath?” satoru couldn't understand why the heck you still care for your wife duties when your husband, him, just broke your heart not so long ago?

you're acting absolutely strange in his eyes and he hates it. he hates how you would just bury or bottle your emotions. you're creating a facade and a labyrinth where you keep it by yourself.

“y/n, it's not time for anything. let's just talk please.” you hate it how he sounds like he's begging, but satoru never begs.

“let’s go to my room. let's talk this out—”

“gojo sensei! yaga sensei was looking for y—oh…” yuuji trailed his tracks when he saw you and satoru together.

“dummy! why do you just yell like that?!” megumi bonked his friend's head for interrupting your talk.

wearing your mask again, you smiled at the duo then brushed yourself away from the scene. satoru couldn't stop you any further, you're already away from him.

either way, satoru does the same, he wore his mask just like you. smiling at his students, he let them navigate the way towards yaga and deal with all of his shits so he would have time and talk to you properly this time.

meanwhile, yuuji and megumi were dismissed after they had done their task. nudging his black haired friend, yuuji pointed out things earlier.

“hey, fushiguro. is it just me or did i just see y/n sensei…crying?” he questioned. megumi remained silent because even saw that you were crying—they’re also not dumb to notice the burst energy somewhere inside your body.

“whether she is or not, it's none of our business.” megumi replied.

“i know. but i couldn't help but to feel really worried about her. you know crying can be bad, especially when you're pregnant, that could stress her out.” yuuji surprisingly knows how pregnancy somehow works. but they both know he's right again. they're worried about you and your baby, so they both take a mental note to visit you later.

as you slam the door behind you, a silent sob escapes your lips as you slide your back behind the wooden frame. along with the sound of your cries, was also the sound of your heart breaking.

for some reason, the facade you just put up there early makes you suffocate. it burns your eyes and it makes you shudder in pain. the hyperventilating noise escapes from your lips while you clutch the handful of fabrics of your blouse.

“you don't know how much pressure i take just because of that fucking marriage.”

“everyday that i woke, another constant nagging from these bastards of higher ups. i'm getting so, so tired and i just want to…”

god, that feeling burns! his words keep on burning in your head, engraving the letters piece by piece. those words are not too cruel, it's a little far from what you had heard before. but it came out directly from your husband's mouth, the father of your baby.

maybe, you think you acted this way because of your hormones. but nonetheless, he's like blaming you for all of his misfortunes and that made you recall your past arguments with him before.

it was like a collection of puzzles coming up together, picturing a clear image; you were just a distraction, he wanted nothing to do with you, you were just a burden, he wanted to dissolve this marriage, you would never be his, he wanted to be free from you.

you put your hand on your baby bump, stroking it ever so gently. you swore to yourself that you would never let anyone harm your baby, you would never let this marriage harm your baby, you would never let satoru harm your baby, you never let yourself harm your baby. that's for sure.

because as the clock ticks, time passes. and as the time passes, more tears flow to your cheeks along with blood on your legs.

[part 2 is out now — ©luvvixu2024]

[felibrary]

LOVE IS AN OPEN DOOR - chuuya nakahara

synopsis: if you wouldn't know any better you'd think that chuuya nakahara doesn't take a liking to you - he loathes you. but what if one day you make a shocking discovery that it might be the opposite.

pairing: chuuya nakahara x gn!reader | wordcount: 1.2k | content & warnings: im at the first ep of s4, so if chuuya mischaracterized no need to wonder…, school au-ish kind of??, cursing (fuck), dazai teases chuuya for his crush, chuuyas kinda not rly good with his feelings and expressing himself, drinking (chuuya offering to go out and drink), dazai plays cupid/matchmaker

a/n: when i wrote this i didn't have 15 yo dazai or chuuya in mind (cause of the school au yk) just as them idk but interpret it however you like - high school or college wtv, im so obsessed with chuuya rn y'all don't even know, hope u guys enjoy this little thing i've whipped up in an hour

you're convinced that chuuya nakahara hates you.

that's one thing you're sure of. after all, he avoids you like the plague; however when the two of you do get in touch with one another, he starts cursing you out, calling you names such as “dumbass" and abruptly leaves.

yeah, you're pretty sure that that guy dislikes - if not despises you. although until now you've hadn’t had the slightest idea why. well, that was the case up until now.

some days have passed since you started noticing it. every time you hung out with dazai and started laughing a bit too loudly at his jokes or lightly slapped his shoulder, chuuya gave you a death stare - if you wouldnt know any better he looked like he’d grab your throat any minute to shut you up.

admittedly (and also embarrassedly) you never really noticed it until dazai has pointed it out. which, on one hand, explains the weird feeling you’ve recently gotten - it felt like someone was shooting daggers at the back of your head, luckily for you, that’s solved now.

but on the other hand, you still demand an explanation why chuuya would do that. is it simply because of his (one-sided) hatred towards you, that can’t be the case right? or did he have a huge crush on dazai, that’s the most realistic explanation that you can think of.

-

once school ended and the bell had just rung to release everyone from their classes and go back home. you’d usually scurry home right away, because there was no point in staying longer, after all who’d want to endure this hell house also known as school more than necessary, it's no use right?

well jokes on you, staying over time was definitely worth it. kunikida assigned you the task (forced) to carry a huge stack of boxes full of documents and paper to your homeroom teacher's room, because it was the “right” thing to do - well at least according to his ideals. 

“but what about dazai? that idiot  just ran off and is probably slacking off right now!” you protested, because it's not fair when everyone has a task to complete and someone else just gets to relax, right? 

at your complaint the blond could only scoff “i’ll scold him later, but for now let's just concentrate on the task in front of us, time is running out.”

-

that’s how you ended up here, back pressed against the heavy classroom door that separated you and the two guys that were inside the room as you tried to listen in into their conversation.

initially your plan was to find dazai, drag him by the collar of his white button up and beat his ass for skipping and leaving you alone with a ton of boxes that not only cost you ten minutes to carry around or so.

because neither kunikida or anyone else didn’t bother to tell you that there were three, fucking three, of those staples of boxes that were filled with countless papers.

however, it came to a change of plans upon hearing chuuyas’ voice. usually, any sound that was made inside of the classrooms was drowned out and barely audible to hear outside the room. 

this time, that didn’t seem to be the case though. chuuyas’ screaming and dazais' hysterical laughter were faint but loud enough to hear from outside the room. 

“come on chuuya, there's no need denying it, you have a massive crush on them.” dazais’ voice was laced with amusement as he started laughing out loud which seemed to piss the redhead off. 

you were able to hear a small huff that escaped dazais mouth. “chuuya, there’s really no need to start getting all violent, just admit that you’re absolutely whipped for them!” the brunette chuckled. “so stop kicking me in the balls!” that probably earned him another kick as you could hear dazai letting out a small “ouch.”

“shut up, shitty dazai.” the guy in question only snickered at that. “yeah, yeah. everyone’s able to tell that you’re madly in love with them. every time you’re around them you start to get beet red, the color even exceeds the one of your hair! a hilarious sight to look at, really.” 

you didn’t hear a response from chuuya and apparently neither did dazai so he just continued his rant. “also, let me tell you one thing, you’re not making it any better by cussing them out or intently staring at them, that’s just scary, man!” dazai closes his eyes and starts shaking his head before tutting in disappointment.

“oh chuuya. the brunette sighs, eyes still closed. “letting a beauty like them slip away this easily by not showing any proper interest. you’re to be pitied, really.” the male moves away from his previous position and bolts over to the door, crossing his arms as his back leans against the door.

an exasperated sigh leaves chuuyas mouth. “what do you expect me to do then? they probably have a horrible impression of me already. if i pull up with a bouquet of roses and some cliché pick up lines, they’d probably stare at me in horror, wondering if i got possessed or something.” he sneers at dazai. 

just who in the world are they talking about?

dazai pretends to think for a moment before snapping his fingers. “well for starters, how about greeting them, doesn’t even have to be verbal, just some waving or nodding. then start hanging out with them!”

“idiot! how's that supposed to work from just greeting each other!” the ginger scowls at dazai.

“hold your horses.” the brunette whistles. “i didn't say to rendez-vous and have a candle-light dinner. how about accepting those group invites first that you keep declining. then you’d have the chance to meet up with them more often and get to know them.”

dazai continues to advise chuuya by giving him tips and recommendations “try bonding over stuff with each other, like favorite shows or food. and if you’re not incapable of doing so, how about complimenting them. wouldn't hurt you know?” dazai shrugs in simplicity. 

chuuyas still skeptical “assumingly that was the case. the two of us attending the same party, they’re alone and i finally get the chance to approach them, what the fuck am i supposed to say?” dazai only smiles at chuuya, a look that says “that’s up to you.” 

“why not use me as your lab rat!” dazai suggests optimistically.

“no way in hell!” chuuya shoots back pessimistically.

after pondering and musing for a while, chuuya comes up with a curt sentence. “i find you really good looking and cool.” the redhead stops and both you and dazai await his continuation in anticipation. “wanna go out and grab drinks sometimes?” chuuya doesn’t look up from the floor which he’s been staring at for the past minute. the tips of his ears tinted in a vermillion red.

“well, that wasn't so hard was it?” dazai asks cheerily, clapping his hands together. “if you still have doubts, how about you try it on the real thing now?” and before you can realize what's going on dazai swiftly steps away from the door before grabbing the door handle and opens the door, revealing your figure to the two guys. 

you’re not sure who's more taken aback, you or chuuya.

© VYNICITY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

e/n: as y’all can tell the title is inspired by frozen's love is an open door cause y’know dazai opens the door for chuuya to confess his feelings. does this make sense lol??

[mingi-s-dimples]

Heart on Loan - Yunho

KINKTOBER DAY 16, REQ. BY anon

~"Hi I'd like to request a Yunho Mafia fic. The reader pisses him off in some way and now she had to pay him back by working for him. At first he's really mean to her but then starts to be attracted and that's when the smut starts. The reader is also a virgin and doesn't have any experience being in a relationship or talking to guys. I hope that's not too much!"

pairing: mafia leader!yunho x fem!reader

genre: 18+, mafia au, filth ish

summary: you piss off the most dangerous person in the city... only to spend the most memorable night with him, after supposedly working for him to pay your debt off.

wc: 2.4k

warnings: mafia au, dom!yunho, virgin!reader, deepthroating, fingering, oral (m), head pushing, hair *pulling/tangling*, teasing slightly, he's a cocky one, making out, mentions of guns, missionary, implied 2nd round, use of pet names, slight possessiveness, unprotected (boo use protection irl), completely consensual, for sure forgot something, unedited.

Author's Note: Mafia Yunho is chef's kiss idc what y'all say and idc that this fic is damn short but omfg... I need this man in my life *sigh* why do I not bump into pretty and tall men that would make me pay off my own sillt debt and fucking them later in my life 😞😞 I'm so sorry words slipped out of my mouth upsi. Anyways, anon, I hope yoh like it !

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent in any way the reality of the member.

The city had a heartbeat of its own, a relentless pulse of neon lights and shadowed alleyways where secrets and power moved in. You knew it well, though you’d never been bold enough to dip more than a toe into its murky underbelly. That was, until tonight.

You’d been passing through the dimly lit streets, minding your own business, when fate—or rather, an unfortunate case of bad timing and bad attitude—threw you directly in Yunho's path. Yunho was the city’s most notorious Mafia leader, his name spoken in whispers by even the bravest. Some said his fortune was built on power, manipulation, and charm as dangerous as his temper. But none of that registered with you in the moment you bumped into him and, in a flustered reaction, spilled coffee on his impeccable suit.

There was a silence so thick you could feel it pressing against your lungs. You had barely glanced up when you realized the towering figure before you, the dangerous gleam in his eyes, and the ominous smirk pulling at his lips. Your blood ran cold as he inspected his now-ruined clothes, a dark promise flickering behind his expression.

"You’ve got some nerve," he finally muttered, his voice soft but sharp enough to cut through the heavy night air. You felt his gaze drilling into you, appraising, as if deciding your fate. Without another word, he stepped closer, towering over you.

“I’m… really sorry about that. I didn’t mean to—” you stammered, but he cut you off with a smirk that sent chills down your spine.

“Oh, you will be,” he said, his tone dark yet almost amused, and something inside you told you that your apology wouldn’t be enough. “Let’s call this… a debt. And you’re going to work it off.”

That was how it all began. Within days, you found yourself stepping into a new life, a strange, thrilling, and utterly terrifying world at Yunho’s command. The rules were strict, and the punishment for mistakes even stricter. You had no idea what you'd be asked to do next, whether it was tracking contacts, running errands, or, most frequently, dealing with his endless collection of firearms. It was in these moments, whenever you were alone with him, that Yunho’s intensity seemed to turn up a notch.

The rough edges of his demeanor wore on you, his biting sarcasm and occasional harshness drawing out every ounce of your patience and nerves. But gradually, you began to notice something beyond the intimidation. In the way he watched you, sometimes with an intensity that felt heavier than his threats, there was something almost like curiosity.

Days passed, and your debt stretched on, keeping you ensnared in Yunho’s world. But one night, as you were organizing his cache of sleek, dangerous-looking firearms in his private room, the silence between you felt charged, more potent than ever. Yunho was watching you from the doorway, arms crossed, the smallest hint of a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Do you know what you’re holding there?” he asked, his tone softer than usual as he took a step toward you.

Your heart skipped a beat as you tried to focus on the task, feeling his gaze travel from your hands to your face, lingering just a little too long. He was close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating from him, smell the faint cologne that seemed to fit him all too well. You struggled to keep your attention on the weapon you were packing, but your pulse betrayed you, hammering in your chest like a warning.

Without a word, Yunho reached over, his fingers brushing yours as he adjusted the weapon in your grip. His touch sent a jolt through you, making it hard to ignore the heat creeping up your cheeks. You’d been cautious around him, knowing he was dangerous in more ways than one, but you hadn’t expected the casual, unexpected intimacy he was capable of. He lingered, his fingers tracing over yours with a gentleness that seemed foreign for someone so ruthless. And you couldn’t look away.

“Shy, huh?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble as he leaned closer, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement—and something else. You felt a knot of tension twist in your stomach, unsure if it was fear or something far more dangerous, but Yunho didn’t pull back. If anything, he moved closer, a teasing smile curving his lips as he caught your gaze.

“You make me want to forget every rule I’ve ever made.” your eyed widened at his words, not knowing what he meant.

Oh.. yeah. The rule.. of not having any kind of affair with one another. Did he possibly mean.. that one?

For a split second, the entire world seemed to melt away, leaving just you and him in that small, dimly lit room. It was a line you knew you shouldn't cross, a tension you shouldn’t indulge. But as he stayed close, his fingers lightly grazing yours again, you realized you weren’t sure if you wanted him to stop.

"Your heart is... racing" Yunho smirks, pressing his fingers lightly against your wrist, feeling your pulse quicken under his touch, “You want this too, don’t you?”

Your lips part to respond but words falter, looking away, and he chuckles.

Yunho's hands traveled from your wrist to your hand, then to your shoulder and collarbone, “Don’t go shy on me now. I want to hear you say it.”

"I-" you tried to say.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Getting all silent on me?” he confidently said, as your eyes instantly chose a random spot on a wall to look at, rather to make eye contact with him. His right hand rode up your neck, resting there for a second, then went for your chin and he made you look at him.

“Come on… look at me. I want to see those pretty eyes when you blush like that.”

"I- uh"

"Say it." he said, authority conveyed in his words.

"I haven't done this.. b-before." you stuttered, eyes wandering around.

He looked at you, slightly confused. “So… you’re telling me you’re a virgin?”

“I don’t want you to think… I’m not interested. I’m just… not experienced.” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, embarrassed of your words.

“Trust me, I’d never assume that.” he leans in, voice droping, “But if anything, it makes me want to go slower… yeah. I’ll take my time with you… make sure you feel every second of it. That’s a promise.”

---

The atmosphere suddenly got heavier as his hands rode up and down on your body, feeling you up.

He took a small step back, his gaze softening as he let out a slow breath, as though grounding himself. “You have no idea how much I want this,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as if even saying the words too loudly might break the spell between you.

With a tenderness that surprised you, he traced his hands up your arms, letting them settle on your waist as he gently lifted you, your body instinctively wrapping around him. His movements were deliberate yet unhurried, carrying you as if you were something delicate, precious.

The quiet thud of the door closing behind him, the warmth of his touch, and the way his breath lingered near your neck all heightened the sense of intimacy. The room was cast in dim light, shadows dancing along the walls, adding a surreal quality to the moment. Every brush of his fingers, every whispered breath, seemed to amplify the silence between you.

Gently, he lowered you onto the bed, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’re incredible, you know that?” he said, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze. His fingers trailed lightly over your cheek, tracing your jaw.

In that moment, you felt safe, even if hr was the most dangerous person in your city.. if not even in the country.

Your hands left his shoulders as he backed off for a second, taking in the view. He then started to slowly undress himself, taking his sweet time.

"L-let me.. help you" you suddenly said, not even expecting your own words to slip out. He giggled at your words and stopped, letting you do it. You slowly unbuttoned his shirt, feeling up his muscles. His shoulders are broad and heavily built, signaling his strength and resilience. His chest muscles are well-defined, showing the dense training that shapes his form, while his biceps and triceps look strong and hardened, giving him an imposing presence. His abs are chiseled, likely from rigorous workouts and possibly some close-call encounters. Every part of him exudes power, from his veined forearms to the taut muscles of his back, showcasing the blend of elegance and intensity fitting for someone who commands respect and fear. Though, his soft skin was tainted by some pretty harsh scars, probably from cuts or bullets he got hit by in combat. You then got to his pants and well.. it went kind of.. downhill from there.

"Let's see what you're capable of, sweetie. Don't worry.. I'll guide you." he said as he unbuckled his pants, letting them fall down to his ankles and pushing them away. He then got rid of his briefs and oh god.. he was *huge*. His hand hovered over your head and urged you down on your knees, right in front of his cock. You innocently looked up at him, like you didn't fucking enjoy every second of it, while being entirely freaked out.

Your hands rode up his thighs and got to his cock, slowly pumping it. As you were looking at him, your eyes widened as he signaled you to... suck. "It won't be that hard, I promise..." he whispered as he guided your head to his cock, your lips parting against the red, leaking tip. You started to softly suck on it, not sure if you could take all of his length. You deepened a bit, leaving sloppy trails of kisses whenever you got to his tip. You liked his length from the base all the way to the shaft, sucking on his tip multiple times before he.. got slightly bored of it. "Sweetie..?"

"Mhm?" you muffle, his cock inches deep in your mouth.

"Let's... try a bit more " he said as he pushed himself slowly deep down your throat, gagging on it while he thrusted forwards in your mouth. He didn't seem like the man to be noisy but.. muffled sounds and whines could be heard from above you. His hand tangled in your hair as he started rapidly fsce-fucking you, catching his high.

"Don't stop.." he said and braced his hands in your hair and on your head and deepthroated you, making you gag multiple times on it. He was not.. the most gentle person, but you also loved it so, no need for him to be gentle. Your hands were holding tightily ok his thighs, and as he fucked your mouth a couple more times, he came right down your throat and in your mouth. When he pulled out, silky white cum dripped off your lips. He kneeled down in front of you and wiped it off, moment to distract you from his hand going under you, lifting you up. He threw you on the bed and undressed you, hastily.

"Let me spoil you, pretty." he said and pushed you on your back, crawling over to you. His lips found yours, and in a matter of time while he was making out with you, his hand found it's way between your legs. He stopped for a moment to look at you. and when you nodded, he didn't hesitate any longer. He inserted one finger in, then the second one. He slowly started pumping them in and out while still kissing you, feeling each and every of your muffled and quiet moans. It was not long before he started fingering your rapidly, helping you catch your high. But.. that wasn't his plan. In fact, his plans was to only.. stretch you out for his length. So that when he felt you'd be prepped enough for him, he pulled back for a moment and guided his cock to your entrance, then slowly pushed himself in. Your hands held thightly onto the linen as he bottomed down, his length and girth stretching you the fuck out.

"Tell me... if you want me to stop" he said but.. he didn't mean it. You also never planned in making him stop so, you nodded, not answering him. That simply was the easiest way of telling him you wanted to be fucked dumb by him, to which he compiled.

His hands found their way to your waist, burying himself deep down in you. His eyes widened as you put your legs over his waist, missionary style. He smirked, going even faster than he was before.

"I- Yunho!" you moaned his name, tears forming in your eyes as he bottomed down every time he thrusted into you.

"I'm close, sweetie... you feel so damn good, I might as well go fucking insane." he said as he let his torso down to yours, his lips finding their way to your collarbones, leaving soft kisses which transformed into harsh marks, where he sucked your skin. He fucked you a couple more times before coming undone right in front of you and in you, feeling yourself getting absolutely filled up by his load. You, too, also came as soon as you felt his cock pulse in you. He whined out when he felt your walls clench tightly on his cock, draining him out. He fucked you through his and your orgasm, then slowly came to a stop.

He pulled out and stepped back for a moment, admiring his work. Your pretty, fucked out, teary face, and your cunt dripping with both of your juices.

"You look so damn hot like this.. might as well go for another round, if you're up for it?" Yunho said, a little bit too excited about it as his cock hardened again.

"P-please.. I need you" you whined out, dirty thoughts flooding in your mind.

"You didn't have a choice anyway.. I gotta show you just how much you pissed me off when you ruined my favourite suit, sweeheart." he said and leaned in for a kiss, to which he lifted you up in his embrace.

The night was just about to start and... ironically, you felt safer and wanted in the nicest way by the most dangerous person in the city.

NETWORKS:

@illusionnet

@blossomnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @gong-fourz @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @woolysium @peachy-bell26

[py-dreamer]

@furornocturna,@violetjedisylveon

Remember me mentioning that Kubo and the 2 strings au like months back?

Yea so I haven't forgotten it

I was too lazy to color the mask sorry.

So yea if you haven't figured it out Mk is Kubo (obviously), Mac is monkey, and Wukong is beetle. Oh and the lantern is the replacement for the shamisen here.

I'm gonna say probably not gonna be a huge shebang finished piece like I do for my shadowalkers for this one, hope that's alright with y'all

(I'm tired-)

Mk's outfit is honestly not the boldest or anything but it doesn't need to. But I DID want to make it very baggy as it's one of Wukong's old robes so I took references from Chihiro from spirited away (If you know, it's an important plot point in the movie)

I didn't want to turn Wukong into like an entire creature entirely so instead I just superglued the mask to his face, his face his probably really sooty/dirty, he got a growth spurt it seems (maybe from a curse?) and yes he does have 4 arms. Also a certain group who had beef with shadowpeach decided to pour boiling hot oil as well as the molten iron and copper pellets down Wukong's throat so he might sound a wee bit rustier than usual. Just enough for his husband to not recognize him at the very least.

He doesn't have them in the 3rd pic cause I drew that before making the decision and also again, I'm lazy

(Btw, those are Wukong's top scars thanks for noticing. Probably has those in my other aus ngl, just haven't drawn them up close ig)

Mac is very much enjoying his shirtless husband, even if he doesn't know it. He is also hobo. Single dad and raising a magical child away from the heavens' eyes. Good for him

But I don't actually have a name for the au so suggestions are welcome!

Oh and I think I'm gonna open my ask box for any asks on my aus

I you see that it isn't open its not cause I lied, it's cause I failed

And another big thing I have to ask is should this au have a happy ending? If you know he movie ou know Kuo has a very bittersweet ending.

[minghaoyoudoin]

to love easily

pairing: non-idol!minghao x fem!reader

genre: fake dating / angst / smut / non-idol au

words: 13.5k

rating: strictly 18+, stay safe out there 🫶

warnings: heavy mention of cheating and resulting trauma, fem reader, food consumption, kissing, dirty talk, pet name (darling), very explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, oral sex (m. and f. receiving), penetration (vaginal), some angst but more fluff, some marking, I'm sure there's more but you'll have to read to find out hehe

a/n: drum roll please.......... ta da! at long last, I've written for the namesake of this blog, the actual love of my life xu minghao! I hope y'all enjoy reading this one, it was such a joy to write and I'm excited to be able to share it with you! please like or reblog if you like it and thank you for reading!

synopsis: fake dating the beautiful stranger you met in the men’s room: what could go wrong?

~ DAY ONE ~

When you burst through the men’s bathroom door like a bat out of hell, you weren’t quite sure why you were surprised to find a boy on the other side.

Luckily, he wasn’t doing anything worthy of sprinting back out for. The boy stood at the row of old, slightly rusted sinks, the water running but not actually washing his hands. He had frozen the second the door opened, actually, which you figured was a pretty appropriate reaction.

And he was staring at you. Black hair hung into wide eyes, glasses you suspected he didn’t really need perched on the bridge of his nose.

Your chest heaved as you tried and failed to catch your breath. For all your many talents, running was not one of them. You offered a tired wave. “Sorry,” you panted, “I’ll just be a moment, promise.”

“What… are you doing.”

Phrased like a question, but not quite. You squinted at the boy as the automatic sink finally shut off, plunging the bathroom into silence. He straightened to his full height and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, appraising you warily. The boy knew how to dress, you’d give him that.

“Is there anyone else in here?” You demanded.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

The boy made a show of looking around, allowing his eyes to slide back to you after concluding the two of you were obviously alone. He shrugged. Not much for words, this one.

You finally managed to catch your breath enough to speak in coherent sentences. “Look, my ex-boyfriend is out there, okay?”

“Is that really a dire enough situation to warrant hiding in the men’s room?”

You scoffed. “Not that it’s any of your business, but his new girlfriend is with him. Who also happens to be my used-to-be-best-friend, okay? I’m not hiding, I’m saving everyone a headache.”

The boy grimaced. “Sounds messy. Well, good luck with that—”

“Do you have a name?” You interrupted. The boy levelled an impatient look at you over his fake glasses. When he said nothing you blurted your own name, at which his lips pressed into a hard line.

After what could have been hours of tense silence, the boy sighed. “Minghao. My friends call me Hao.”

“Nice to meet you, Hao.”

“You can call me Minghao.”

Despite his severe tone and the fact he definitely wasn’t joking, you laughed. You stuck out a hand for him to shake, more than pleased when he raised his own to meet yours halfway. He wore several delicate silver rings on his fingers, his skin slightly damp against yours from the sink. You took some solace in the knowledge he’d been able to finish washing his hands before you barged into the bathroom.

You froze, your hand still clasped in Minghao’s, at the sound of two horribly familiar voices on the other side of the door. The deeper of which was getting suspiciously close.

“Shit.” You moved before you could think better of it. You inadvertently dragged Minghao with you into the closest stall, managing to slam it shut and lock it mere seconds before the bathroom door opened.

“I’ll wait out here, okay?” Chaeyoung’s voice floated in from the hallway, as high and pretty-sounding as ever. Footsteps echoed as your ex-boyfriend crossed the tile floor to the urinals on the opposite wall.

You gritted your teeth, trying with everything in you not to listen to the sound of your ex-boyfriend’s piss. Minghao, looking hopelessly confused, opened his mouth to say something and glared down at you when you immediately covered his lips with your hand.

Don’t even think about it, you shouted with your eyes.

Minghao cocked an eyebrow, something akin to mischief shining in his eyes. Oh, I’m definitely thinking about it now.

To your despair, Minghao cleared his throat. Even through the barrier of your hand the sound echoed, and you scowled at the floor as your ex finished his business and washed his hands. It was good that he did, you thought. You hadn’t been convinced he was a dedicated hand-washer before.

You didn’t release the painful breath in your lungs until the bathroom door clicked shut behind him. Minghao immediately shook off your hand over his mouth and massaged his jaw, gazing down at you with mild dislike.

“I implied you were dramatic before, but I was wrong. That was dramatic.”

You rolled your eyes and unlocked the stall, marching out into open floorspace. Minghao followed, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

You ran your hands over your face, now attempting to catch your breath for an entirely different reason than before. That was a close call, too close, and you were certain you’d never be able to live it down if you were caught in the boy’s bathroom with a total stranger.

“I’m sorry, that was out of line.” You glanced up at Minghao for all of one second before your embarrassment got the better of you and you looked down again. “I don’t even know why I dragged you in there with me, you would’ve been fine out here.”

He looked you up and down, allowing the silence to drag on for long enough that your skin prickled with unease. You took the opportunity to appraise him, as well. You’d be damned if you let some random college guy in a bathroom make you feel small.

Minghao’s hair, you realized now, was cut into a tasteful mullet. He wore some variation of streetwear, though you recognized the logos of a luxury brand or two as you examined him. Was he rich or just really into fashion? Maybe both, though you suspected it was more of the latter.

“Your boyfriend is Joshua Hong?”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you corrected sourly. “But yeah. We dated for two years before I caught those two in bed together.”

Minghao didn’t react, which you weren’t sure how to feel about. He didn’t seem to pity you, at least. You were so sick of people pitying you. “I have a proposition for you,” he said neutrally.

“No, I won’t have sex with you.” You answered immediately.

Minghao smiled humorlessly. “If we have sex, darling, I won’t be the one asking for it.” He ignored your scowl and continued calmly, “I think I have an idea that can fix your problem.”

You tried to let it go, you really did, but curiosity swiftly got the better of you. With an aggrieved sigh, you motioned impatiently for him to go on.

“Go out with me.”

“What?”

“You heard me just fine. I don’t mean actually, of course, but no one else needs to know that. There’s nothing to make the ex jealous like dating someone new.” He spoke like it was the most normal thing in the word. Like the prospect of fake-dating someone was completely logical.

Your mouth opened and closed several times, completely unable to form words. “We go to a big university but it’s not that big,” you choked out. “Some people are bound to remember you and I have never spoken before today.”

“So? People form new, spontaneous relationships every day.”

That was true enough. You eyed him warily, trying to find any hints of ulterior motives in his cool exterior. Unfortunately, Minghao didn’t waver an inch. He stared back at you with an expectant smile, obviously anticipating you to agree, and it was around this time that you realized he was intimidatingly handsome.

“Why? What’s in this for you?” You asked.

He waved a dismissive hand between you. “It doesn’t matter. Just know this is a mutually-beneficial agreement. Think about it, you know I’m right.”

You couldn’t decide whether you wanted to kiss him for his great idea or punch him because he’d thought of it before you.

“For how long?” You asked. With every passing second you came closer to folding.

Minghao considered for a moment, staring at a point somewhere over your head. “Six weeks. That’s a month-and-a-half—if Joshua isn’t begging to have you back by then it means he probably won’t.”

Ouch. He was right, you figured. You did want Joshua to beg for you back, but you had absolutely zero intention of actually saying yes to him if he did. His and Chaeyoung’s actions had cut far too deep to heal back to the way it was before. There was a jagged, metaphorical scar that would probably give you grief until the day you died.

Without another word or attempt to convince yourself otherwise, you stuck your hand out in front of you again. Minghao’s eyes fell to it. They widened slightly, your only indication that at least some part of him had doubted that you would say yes.

“You’ve got a deal, Minghao. The arrangement will last six weeks—no more, no less.”

Minghao smiled down at you, the sight only confirming your suspicion that he was very handsome. His long, delicate fingers grasped yours, gentler this time than when you’d shook his hand to introduce yourself.

“Six weeks,” he agreed. “No less.”

You took a deep, steadying breath. What the hell had you just gotten yourself into?

~ DAY EIGHT ~

“Why are you making me go to a football game, again?”

“Because I’m president of the photography club and I have to be there. If we’re dating that means you do, too.”

“But Joshua’s on the football team,” you lamented.

“Even better. Who knows, maybe I’ll get a candid shot of him eating his heart out.”

Despite yourself, you grinned. You figured out more every day that Minghao was genuinely funny when he wanted to be.

It had been a little over a week since the incident in the bathroom. As you’d mentioned in passing, the university you went to was big, but Minghao somehow managed to find you wherever you were.

The day after the restroom debacle, you’d been eating lunch by yourself in a dining hall close to your apartment. It was a struggle not to mope, most days, especially when this dining hall was one you used to frequent with Joshua. Your ex-boyfriend himself had strode into the building right as you took a massive bite of your soggy sandwich, Chaeyoung perched on his arm. It was moments like those that really made you consider arson, but your urge to light things on fire dissipated the moment Minghao plopped into the booth at your side.

He'd offered you a lazy grin and slung his arm over your shoulders before you could protest. Don’t freak out, his eyes told you. The arrangement, remember?

It had taken every ounce of strength in your body to heed his silent warning. Rather than let your surprise show, you’d offered him a wide smile and leaned further into his side. Foolishly you’d planted a sloppy kiss on the edge of his jaw—that was something couples did in public, right?—and immediately flushed with embarrassment.

It worked, though. The one time you dared to look, Joshua kept glancing over at you, mingled confusion and worry lighting his face.

It continued like that for the next week. Minghao made you give him your phone number and text him your class schedule, which he exchanged for his. He showed up to your classes anytime he could, waiting outside in the hall so he could walk you to your next one. He began eating lunch with you in the same dining hall as the first time and put extra effort into his boyfriend façade when Joshua was around.

Outside of that, though, you tended not to speak to one another. He didn’t text, so you didn’t bother to either. He hadn’t yet asked you on a date off-campus, something which simultaneously relieved and disappointed you. You knew you’d have to, eventually, and going to the football game with him seemed like a good way to dip your toe in the water.

Minghao waved his hand in front of your face, forcing you back to the present. “Well? Are you coming with me or not? You can’t deny this is a perfect opportunity for operation jealousy.”

You sighed, but it was mainly for dramatic effect. You both knew you would say yes, especially when things like this were the whole point of your fake relationship, anyway. “Yeah, I’ll come with. Don’t expect me to start making out with you every time they score a touchdown, though.”

The smile Minghao gave you was downright diabolical. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

-----

For all your protesting, the football game was actually kind of fun. Really fun. On a good day you didn’t know the first thing about football, so you tended to watch games based on vibes alone. Today, your university was leading 4-0 and Joshua was playing poorly, hopelessly distracted by the way you hung off Minghao’s arm on the edge of the field. The vibes were immaculate.

Minghao shifted so he stood behind you, looping his camera strap over your head so you could hold the camera while keeping your back pressed to his front. Your mind hyper-focused on the way his chest brushed your shoulders on every inhale. He was blissfully warm, especially when contrasted with the brisk November air around you.

“I already adjusted the settings for you. All you have to do is point and shoot.”

You lifted the camera so you could squint through the viewfinder. “Point and shoot. Got it.”

Minghao made it look way easier than it really was. He’d taken you to the photo lab a few days ago so you could talk through the details of your arrangement, speaking lowly under red light while his pictures developed. Every photo you took turned out just blurry enough that it was unusable, save for one or two shots of the crowd.

He didn’t seem to mind. At some points he rested his chin on top of your head while the two of you flipped through pictures you’d taken. At others his hands drifted up your forearms to your wrists, his fingertips raising goosebumps across your skin. He was good, you had to give him that. If you weren’t careful, you would start to believe his act.

The crowd went wild at something you didn’t see. You raised the camera like it was a gun, searching wildly for what had caused the ruckus. “What happened? What did I miss?”

Minghao chuckled in your ear. “Joshua just got the ball thirty yards closer to the endzone in one play. It’s impressive.”

You scowled, unconvinced. “Yeah, well I’d like to see him not cheat on one of his girlfriends. That I’d be impressed with.”

Minghao laughed again. You pointedly ignored the swell of warmth in your chest at the sound. He raised the camera until the strap lifted over your head, freeing you once again. You stepped away from him, more for your sanity than anything else, and rolled your tense shoulders.

“How many innings are left?” You asked. He just stared at you, his eyebrows raised so high they disappeared behind his hair. “Close your mouth, you’re going to catch flies.”

Without a word, Minghao raised the camera and snapped a picture of you. You narrowed your eyes, confused. He tugged on the end of one of your braids. “There aren’t innings in football, darling. You’re thinking of baseball.”

Embarrassment flooded your cheeks. “Damn. I promise I’m not stupid, I’m just not much of a sports girl. Not these types of sports, anyway.”

Minghao nodded knowingly. “At least you’re pretty.” Did he really mean it or was he just teasing you? Usually that phrase was meant to be mean-spirited, but you could never really tell with him. “What sports are you referring to?”

“Hockey, mainly. But competitive swimming was always my favorite sport in the summer Olympics, so.”

He gave you a strange look like he was trying to hold in a laugh. “Weirdly enough, that makes sense for you.”

“Yeah, well.” You gestured to the field in front of you, scanning the players for the dreaded #05. You found Joshua just in time to watch him blow a kiss to Chaeyoung on the other side of the field, her cheerleading outfit glittering under the stadium lights. You exhaled heavily through your nose. They were perfect together. Straight out of some college romcom—you never stood a chance.

Minghao noticed what had drawn your attention. He took another photo of you staring across the field and approached to stand at your side again. “Her hair looks hideous.”

“No it doesn’t.”

He tugged on one of your braids again. “No. It doesn’t,” he conceded. “I’m trying to help you feel better.”

You appreciated it, you really did. Appreciated him. This past week had been the best you’d had since Joshua cheated on you, something you didn’t realize until this moment. For several seconds, you just stared at him. Minghao stared back, his expression unreadable. He’d lost the fake glasses—blue light glasses, he’d corrected—for the game tonight, his eyes a warm brown without them.

Before you could respond, the crowd erupted into screams. You whipped around to face the field, your eyes straining to find what was happening in the cacophony of male bodies.

There. Joshua had the ball. And he was running—sprinting for the endzone twenty yards away. Despite yourself, despite your anger and hurt with him, your heart squeezed painfully. Your blood sang, urging him to run faster. You might have yelled it, doing some sort of awkward side-trot along the field with him. Minghao did the same, obviously as invested in the score as you were. He kept his camera raised as he did, continuously snapping pictures of the action.

Several members of the other team closed in on him, but Joshua only pushed himself faster. He narrowly dodged the two men that attempted to tackle him and, in a display of athleticism that stunned you, dove across the line into the endzone.

The noise that followed was deafening. You jumped and screamed along with the crowd, just for a moment forgetting about everything weighing on your mind. Minghao’s long arms encircled your waist and he lifted you off the ground so he could spin in a wide circle with you. You laughed so hard your cheeks hurt, joy bubbling in your chest.

The crowd was still shouting when Minghao finally set you back on your feet. You kept your arms around his shoulders. He made no move to release your waist, either, grinning down at you the same way you beamed up at him.

Later, you would blame it on the heat of the moment. The stadium’s screams, the fact Joshua had just scored what would likely be the winning touchdown, the blinding lights—yes, it had to be that. Regardless, you looked into the stars in Minghao’s eyes and pressed your lips to his without thinking.

The kiss was barely more than a second. You shocked yourself so thoroughly that you pulled away immediately, you and Minghao staring at one another with equal expressions of surprise. But without warning, he crushed his lips to yours again. They were softer than you’d imagined as they slid against yours, Minghao exploring your mouth with languid curiosity.

Your heart felt like it would pound out of your chest. You allowed your hands to timidly drift from his shoulders to the back of his neck, then gently tangle in the roots of his hair. Despite the riot of noise all around you, Joshua being carried on the shoulders of his teammates in celebration, all you could focus on was the feeling of kissing Minghao.

He pulled away after what could have been seconds or hours, his breathing erratic. He stared down at you for a moment and took a step back, releasing you once more. You swayed on your feet a bit after his sudden retreat out of your personal space.

“I just had to check,” he said through a heavy exhale.

“Check what?”

Minghao shook his head as if to clear it. “Nothing.”

You turned your attention back to the game and ignored the shaking in your hands. What the hell just happened?

~ DAY TWENTY-TWO ~

“I think we need to have rules,” you said around a bite of your sandwich.

Minghao raised an eyebrow. “Rules? Why?” He continued poking at his pasta, cutting individual noodles into perfect, tiny squares.

You cleared your throat, aware of the self-conscious heat creeping up your neck. “At the game you, uh, kissed me. Well, I kissed you, but then you kissed me—whatever.” Minghao looked down at his food instead of you, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable. “I know it was just the excitement of the game, I don’t want you to think I expect anything out of you now.”

“I think it’s a little late to establish rules,” he said, finally taking a bite of his strangely diced pasta. “We’re already halfway through the arrangement.”

Your mouth fell open. “We are?” You did the mental math, the surprise shocking you into silence for several seconds. It felt like a week had passed, not a little over three. You had spent almost every day with Minghao, even if it was just for a few minutes between classes on campus. Other days you did things like this, going out for dinner and sometimes studying afterwards, sometimes not. You tried not to dwell on the fact you and Minghao had begun hanging out even when you knew Joshua wouldn’t be around.

Minghao smiled knowingly at you. There was a familiar look in his eyes nowadays, one that was somewhere between affection and thinking you’re a dumbass. “Cat got your tongue?”

You stuck said tongue out at him. “Well, my point still stands. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to trap you or anything just because we kissed once.”

“I don’t think that.”

Great, super helpful. “Hao. Help me out here.”

His smile dropped, his expression turning contemplative. “Fine. How about… no more kissing? At least, not unless you ask.” He wiggled his eyebrows and you frowned.

“That won’t happen. I think we should just tack no sex on there too, while we’re at it.” At your words, Minghao’s face changed to mirror your frown.

“Fine. No sex.” He considered for another moment. “Is the point of this arrangement for you to get back together with Josh?”

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’ sound for emphasis. In a way, the conviction with which you said it surprised you. Until now, you weren’t exactly sure how you felt about the end-goal of your fake relationship. If not to win Joshua back, what was the point? “He chose Chaeyoung, end of story. I think I’m more interested in giving him hell by being happier without him.” You smiled mischievously and Minghao snorted.

“As you should. Fine, then next rule: either of us can end the relationship at any time. If one of us decides we’re done then that’s it, no questions asked.”

For reasons you didn’t understand, your heart swooped into your stomach. You forced a swallow. “Okay.” After a beat of hesitation you plastered a teasing smile onto your face. “You’re not trying to fake-break up with me, are you?”

Thankfully, Minghao laughed. “No, darling.” He smiled when you scowled. “I enjoy the look on your face when I call you ‘darling’ far too much for that.”

“Fine, fine.” You took another bite of your sandwich, chewing slowly.

“Is that all?” Minghao asked.

“One more.” You held up a finger while you finished the sandwich in your mouth and tried not to choke. Anxiety gnawed at the edges of your mind. You weren’t quite sure how he would react to your last rule. “No falling in love. It would just complicate things unnecessarily. Even though you’ve told me that there’s no one else, I don’t believe you.”

“Why?”

“You have that look. I don’t know, I can just tell. You’re in love with someone but you won’t tell me who she is.”

Minghao stared at you, completely silent. His expression had gone back to the unreadable mask he’d frequently worn at the beginning of this whole thing. You hated it.

“Well?” You pushed.

Like someone had pressed play on a remote, Minghao resumed cutting and eating his pasta. “There’s no one else, but okay. I agree.”

You leaned forward. “Are you sure about that?”

He looked up at you through his eyelashes, his expression resolute. “What do you want me to say? There isn’t. I’ve gotten used to you these past few weeks. I’m having fun and I don’t care to have it with anyone else at the moment.”

You leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms over your chest, evaluating him through narrowed eyes. He looked casual enough—he didn’t have to force the words out and there were no physical indications that he was lying. Minghao, apparently sensing your energy, set down his fork and mimicked your stance.

“Do you want me to break it off with you?” He asked neutrally.

“What? Of course not.”

“It seems like you do.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that. You didn’t, not at all. In fact, you were far enough into this… thing with him that you worried how you’d react after this arrangement was over. Would you replace being heartbroken over Joshua with being heartbroken over Hao?

When you said nothing, Minghao continued, “The same goes for you, you know. If someone you like tries to pursue you I’ll step aside. Even if it’s Joshua.” His face turned abruptly nervous and he swallowed. “However, I want to talk to you about something—”

“Did you say my name?”

Every ounce of curiosity at what he’d been about to say turned to ash at the voice that interrupted him.

You didn’t want to turn around. You didn’t need the confirmation that it was Joshua standing behind you, anyway. Minghao’s eyes raised to your ex-boyfriend’s face, his expression holding poorly-concealed dislike. He gave him a saccharine smile that you didn’t believe for a second.

“Joshua. What brings you here?”

He was standing far too close to your chair. Even though you still wouldn’t turn to look at him you could feel his presence behind you like a looming shadow.

“I’m meeting Chaeyoung for dinner. It’s our six-month anniversary today.”

Six months. You thought you might vomit. You knew Joshua had cheated on you, obviously, but according to this timeline he had gotten with Chaeyoung over four months before you caught them.

Minghao’s eyes flicked to you, fast enough that you could’ve imagined the worry in them. “Is that so?”

“You two are dating, then?” Joshua completely ignored Minghao’s pointed question. You knew he was addressing you without having to see his face.

You cleared your throat as a way to buy yourself time to breathe. “Yeah, we are. A little over a month now.” You were too afraid to exaggerate yours and Minghao’s relationship timeline any more than that. Joshua was known to poke holes in anything until it broke, especially when it was you.

At last, you turned to look at him. Joshua was smiling down at you, an expression that didn’t reach his eyes. Months of heartbreak surged to the surface and you pressed your lips into a hard line to keep your face from betraying your emotions.

“I didn’t know you two knew each other, Hao.”

Hao? Since when did Joshua know Minghao? Let alone well enough to call him Hao. You threw a carefully blank glance in Minghao’s direction, one he was smart enough to look nervous at.

“We met at school.”

Joshua stared at him like he expected him to continue, then looked slightly uncomfortable when he remained silent. You tried to squash your pleasure at this. It seemed Joshua didn’t know Minghao well enough to be used to the fact he was a man of few words.

“Did you need something, Josh?” You asked, your voice strained. You lied as convincingly as you could, “Neither of us said your name.”

He looked back down at you. “Oh. No, then. Just stopping by to say hi, I guess. I wish you two the best of luck with… this.”

Joshua hesitated before walking away, following a host to a booth in the corner of the restaurant.

Your eyes bore holes in the plate in front of you. You wrung your hands beneath the table, attempting to slow your racing heart. A cacophony of emotions stampeded through your mind, moving too quickly to focus on any of them individually.

This plan was stupid. You were three weeks into your fake relationship with Minghao and what did you have to show for it? Anxiety that Joshua somehow knew you were lying? Even though you’d begun to feel better in your new friend’s presence, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him as he repeated your name to get your attention.

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t speak until you mastered the stinging in your eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

“Don’t push me, Hao.” You raised your eyes to his face, aware of the redness in them without having to see yourself. Minghao’s face was hard with concern and he held eye contact until you broke and looked away. “You’re on a first-name basis with him?”

He was silent for a long moment, considering his words. “Yes. We used to be close.”

You released a controlled exhale, continuing to hide your shaking hands under the table. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wouldn’t have helped.”

“I had a right to know.”

“Yes, you did. Hey—” Minghao reached across the table so he could lift your chin with his fingertips, forcing you to look at him “—I wasn’t trying to hurt you by not telling you. You know that, right?”

You didn’t answer. You leaned back in your seat so that his hand was no longer touching your face. Seemingly disappointed, he withdrew it and folded his hands together on the table in front of him.

“When we met, you said this arrangement would be mutually beneficial.” Your throat was thick enough that you had trouble asking the question nagging at you. “Is it because of Joshua?”

Minghao’s answer was immediate. “No. I want nothing from him.”

You wanted to slap yourself at the involuntary relief that surged through you. You took several calming breaths, all too aware that Chaeyoung had just arrived for her date with Joshua. As much as you didn’t want to look, you watched through your periphery as they embraced and took their seats.

“I need to go home.”

Minghao seemed like he wanted to protest. He opened and closed his mouth but produced no sound. At last, he nodded tightly. This time, you weren’t sure if it was relief or extreme disappointment that bloomed in your chest.

When you stood, you held your head high. You threw some cash on the table for your meal, which Minghao deeply frowned at. Wordlessly, you squared your shoulders and walked away, aware of Minghao’s eyes following you until you disappeared onto the street outside.

It wasn’t until you were safely in your car that you finally allowed yourself to cry.

~ DAY THIRTY ~

Minghao decided, with very little planning, to take you on an I’m-sorry-I-hurt-your-feelings-and-you-cried-over-Joshua date. Or something like that. He settled on taking you to a hockey game.

He knew little to nothing about hockey, but you didn’t mind. The two of you had made up about the confrontation with Joshua last week. Or rather, you had finally decided to stop being angry with him. You had wasted a precious four days locked in your apartment, ignoring his texts and calls while you tried to sort out your feelings. So what if he and Joshua had been friends before? You had no more ownership over him than he did of you.

Strangely, your time apart hadn’t helped. If anything, it only made your yearning for him worse. You kept having the urge to talk to your best friend about him—to scream and cry until it dissolved into healing giggles and easy conversation. Only, Minghao was your best friend nowadays. After losing both Joshua and Chaeyoung in one fell swoop, the man beside you now was basically your only friend. Your person.

So, you allowed him to take you to the hockey game. You shared stale popcorn and egregiously large soft drinks, appropriately cheering and booing where necessary. You explained the rules of hockey as best you knew how, though the old woman eavesdropping behind you corrected you on multiple occasions. You had fun. A stupid, concerning amount of fun.

Halfway through you glanced over at him and realized that you loved him. It was sudden enough to steal the breath from your lungs. You didn’t allow yourself to commit to the idea of being in love with him, but your denial could only go so far. You loved him all the same.

He caught you staring and gifted you a brilliant smile. Minghao had somehow managed to become your best friend and sort-of-lover in the span of a month, and you suddenly couldn’t imagine your life without him.

You had no idea if he felt the same, but you decided then that you didn’t want to find out. Even if he did, Joshua had ruined you for anyone else. You weren’t in love with him anymore, not by any means, but you suddenly couldn’t trust anyone who dared try to be a romantic partner. Even Minghao.

On your way out of the game, he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his arm slung comfortably over your shoulder. It was around this time, while Minghao gazed down at you with genuine affection in his eyes, that you realized what deep shit you were in.

~ DAY THIRTY-FOUR ~

 “If I see you take one more picture of me I’m going to throw your camera in the river.”

Minghao didn’t laugh at your threat. Instead, you heard another conspicuous click as he took the hundredth photo of your side-profile. You didn’t look at him, still shielding the sun from your eyes and reclining lazily on the sloped grass. It was freezing outside, to say the least, but it was the first day in a week the sun had made an appearance.

The two of you laid out on a grassy hill along the river, bundled in three layers each and soaking up what little December sun you could. Minghao, in his usual fashion, had brought his camera and spent the past hour taking pictures of you.

“If you do that who’s going to know you died of hypothermia out here?”

You scowled in his direction without opening your eyes. “Oh, I’m not worried about that. I’m sure you’ll shout it from the rooftops.”

Minghao sighed. You half-listened to the sounds of him laying back on the grass beside you, your bodies barely touching from shoulder to knee. Goosebumps erupted on your skin everywhere you touched, even through your combined layers of clothing. You mentally reprimanded yourself for the involuntary reaction.

There was one week left in the arrangement. One single week before your fake break-up. You hadn’t brought up your relationship’s impending doom. Neither had he. As if he sensed the direction your thoughts had taken, Minghao’s long fingers sought yours on the grass. He tangled your hands but made no move to touch you further. You couldn’t decide whether to be relieved or aggravated.

“What are we doing?” Minghao’s quiet words surprised you. Not only because he’d broken the careful silence he so revered, but because it was the question you’d been wishing he’d ask for weeks. In truth, you hadn’t expected him to.

“We’re cloud watching.”

“Darling.” You flinched at that one word, so softly spoken. A plea, a warning, an affectionate reprimand—you would never understand how Minghao was able to convey so much with so little.

“I hate that you call me that.” Minghao’s head turned to face you, a look you didn’t return. If you looked at him now, your resolve would surely crack. You forced yourself to stay strong—you only had one week left. One week, then you could get out of this with your heart unscathed.

“Sometimes I think I don’t like you very much.”

The hurt was immediate. You finally turned your head to look at him, every thought rushing from your brain at the way his eyes burned into you. Your hurt rolled off you in subtle waves, despite your fierce attempt to hide it.

“Why?” You whispered.

“Because you make me wonder.”

That gave you pause. In all honesty, you had no idea what he meant. You voiced your confusion aloud, albeit softly, like you were trying very hard not to scare him away. Minghao still hadn’t released your hand, his skin warm and dry against yours. Despite the brisk winter air, the few small places your bodies touched warmed you enough not to notice.

“You make me wonder.” He repeated himself and shrugged, like it was the simplest explanation in the world. “I’ve never been one to believe in things like fate or destiny or whatever else the romantics tell us to dream for. I was very peaceful before all this, you know. I had my camera and a regular schedule and the few friends who stuck around after we graduated high school. Every day was simple, but I’ve always preferred it that way. Then you crashed into the men’s bathroom like a bat out of hell and… now I wonder.”

The breath had long since been stolen from your chest. “What do you wonder about?”

A ghost of a smile flickered on his face, its beauty there and gone in an instant. “I wonder about fate and destiny and the things romantics tell me to dream for. I always thought it was disappointing to watch the people around me fall in love. A waste of potential, or something like that. People become so wrapped up in those they love that it leaves little time for everything else.

“Yet here we are. The majority of the pictures on my camera are of you. When Joshua made you cry at dinner I thought I was going to tear his throat out with my teeth, and I am not a violent person. I could see so clearly, for the first time, what type of person he made you when you were together. Small and helpless and sad—nothing like the fierce girl that came into my life like a fucking hurricane and stole my peace right out from under me.”

Your chest was painfully tight now. “Hao, stop.”

He didn’t. “I value sleep more than most things in my life and I haven’t been able to get more than four hours a night since we kissed at the football game. When I got frustrated looking at all the photos of you on my camera I switched to painting, only to find I had painted your eyes without even meaning to.” Minghao sat up jerkily without releasing your hand. His eyes earnestly searched yours with an intensity that made you want to shrink under his gaze. You forced yourself to remain still, returning his stare without flinching. “You are… incandescent. Breathtakingly beautiful. I can’t breathe when I’m with you and I’m half-mad when we’re apart. Don’t you see? I can’t win.”

“Hao…” Your warning trailed off, his rapid breaths the only thing to fill the silence. Even the chatter of passerby and the drone of the city fell away, leaving you in a cocoon of quiet.

His hand released yours so that he could hold your face, his thumbs tracing gentle circles across your cheeks. Fire bloomed beneath your skin, flaring everywhere he made contact. Your hands raised to cover his, neither of you moving as you stared deeply into one another’s eyes. You were certain you looked crazy to anyone walking by.

For one tiny, insignificant moment, you allowed yourself to hope. It unfurled in your chest and beat alongside your heart. The possibility that this beautiful man could truly want you the way you wanted him rendered you speechless.

Minghao’s thumb traced your bottom lip and he groaned softly at the heated breath you released. “I have fallen so deeply, irreversibly in love with you that I don’t think my heart will ever truly belong to me again.” His words shocked you to your very core.

He leaned forward, watching your expression through hooded eyes. His warm breath mingled with yours and your entire body locked at his proximity. He was going to kiss you. Again. Only this time there was no crowd, no Joshua watching from the football field, no adrenaline to spur you on. If you kissed him now, there was nothing to blame it on.

Minghao’s lips brushed yours. You’d forgotten how soft they were—the way his breath made goosebumps skitter like beetles across your spine. His fingers were so long that they disappeared in your hairline, tangling in your roots like he never meant to let you go. He parted his lips to deepen the kiss and you felt his tongue ghost across your bottom lip.

You jerked away. You scrambled to your feet faster than he could react, your chest heaving. Minghao stared up at you, dazed, his breathing irregular for an entirely different reason than yours.

“What are you doing?” There was venom in your voice. More than you had intended, judging by the way he flinched back. When he said nothing, you bit out, “Are you trying to hurt me?”

Minghao’s eyes widened. “What? No—”

“Just stop, Hao.” The angry beast in your chest settled, retreating into its slumber as fast as it had awoken. Your shoulders sagged and you looked at your feet. You were abruptly exhausted, sadness nipping at your cheeks as surely as the winter around you. “You don’t mean it. I know you think you do—” you rushed when he opened his mouth to interrupt you “—but you don’t.”

“How could you possibly know that?” he huffed indignantly.

“This whole arrangement is based on a lie. We’ve been pretending to be in love for five weeks, it’s bound to have affected one of us after a while.”

“One of us?” Minghao surged to his feet, suddenly crowding your space. His hands took hold of your face again and he earnestly searched your eyes. You kept your expression blank, worried that if you showed any sort of emotion then you’d crack. “One of us? Tell me you don’t feel it too. Look me in the eye right now and tell me you aren’t in love with me.”

And there it was. The point of no return. You knew you’d have to lie, but would he believe you? It was the only way to spare him—spare either of you—from any further heartbreak because of your baggage. You couldn’t stand to see him hurt, to be the one that hurt him, but you had no other choice.

So, you once again placed your hands over his on your cheeks and took a deep breath. “I’m not in love with you, Hao. I never have been.”

For several moments, it appeared as if he hadn’t heard you. Minghao froze until, all at once, your words crashed into him and he stumbled back as if he’d been burned.

“You’re lying,” he breathed.

You squared your shoulders, still keeping your mask in that unkind, emotionless mask. “I’m not. I’m so sorry I led you on, I swear I never meant to. But we had rules, Hao. We made rules to prevent anything like this happening and you went and broke them anyway.”

You were being cruel, you knew you were. It was the only way. That’s what you kept telling yourself, over and over, as the affection in Minghao’s eyes turned to hurt, then to ice.

“Why are you saying this? Did something happen with Joshua?”

You attempted to laugh but it sounded strangled to your own ears. “No, nothing happened with Joshua. I want nothing to do with him. If we were to do this, it would only hurt worse down the line. I just… I wish you hadn’t said anything.”

Minghao backed up a step, then another, each of his footfalls a resounding crack in your heart. “Forget I did. You know what? Forget all of this.” He turned to walk away but stopped immediately and looked at you over his shoulder. “I don’t know you. I don’t know what happened, but if you’d rather be alone then fine.”

“It’s better that way.”

Minghao’s eyes shuttered. He turned and began striding up the hill as fast as his legs could carry him. He didn’t turn to look at you again, and never once did you look away.

~ DAY FORTY ~

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

You jumped hard enough that you dropped your noodles in midair. They plunked back into your bowl and nearly splashed Joshua’s expensive leather jacket as he slid into the booth next to you. Your eyes raised slowly to look at him, taking in the look of vague distaste he gave you. “And you look like shit.”

You smiled sourly. “Gee, thanks.” It wasn’t anything you didn’t already know. In the past six days, you had barely eaten or slept, and you’d taken your first post-breakup shower only yesterday. Breakup, if you could even call it that. It sure felt like one.

“I heard you broke up with Minghao.”

You cringed. At this point, who hadn’t heard? It seemed like everywhere you turned, someone was whispering or staring at you. “That’s none of your business.” You tried to nonchalantly take another bite of your ramen but it might as well have tasted like tar.

“Fair enough, but who else is going to talk to you about it?”

Unfortunately true. “Why do you care, Josh?”

His eyes softened, just barely. “Because I still care about you.” You threw him a skeptical glare. “And because you’re infecting the entire campus with your heartbreak. It’s making everyone uncomfortable.”

“Everyone meaning you?” The timid smile on your face faded. You stabbed at your food, your appetite long gone. Before you could think better of it, you blurted, “It wasn’t real.”

Joshua’s brows furrowed. “What wasn’t real?”

“Any of it. Minghao and I never dated. It was… stupid, now that I think about it, but this all started because I barged into the boy’s bathroom trying to avoid you and Chaeyoung.”

Your chest felt inexplicably lighter after your confession. You thought that you’d be humiliated if Joshua ever found out, but you realized now you didn’t care. You’d gotten a best friend out of it, even if you’d gone and fucked it up five weeks in.

Joshua stared at you beneath lowered brows, his arms crossed over his chest. Your eyes flicked nervously between his face and the dining hall around him. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Don’t feel like embarrassing me today?”

“I don’t believe you.”

You scoffed. “What?”

“I don’t believe you.” Joshua shrugged. He leaned forward and stole your chopsticks out of your hand, then proceeded to brazenly take a bite of your ramen.

You stared at him, speechless for several seconds too long. “I… don’t know what to say to that. Am I supposed to convince you that I rashly entered a fake relationship to both make you jealous and angry?”

“Maybe it started out that way, but you’re definitely in love with him now. You weren’t this heartbroken after we broke up, I can tell you that much.” Joshua hit his chest with a fist and returned your utensils, a grimace on his face. “This is so spicy, what’s wrong with you?”

You didn’t reply. You just looked at him, your mind racing. You muttered at last, “It doesn’t matter if I’m in love with him. Hell, it doesn’t even matter if he’s in love with me. He doesn’t want me. He doesn’t want all the baggage I have to bring into a real relationship.”

“What baggage?” He shot back. You stared at him incredulously, waiting for him to get it. Recognition flared in Joshua’s eyes and he smiled apologetically. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you asked him if he cares about your baggage?”

You frowned. “Well, no. But who would?”

“I think you’re forgetting that he already knows about your baggage. At least the me part of it. If what you’re telling me is true—which is crazy, by the way—then he literally got involved with you on the basis of your emotional issues.”

That was a good point, actually. You took another bite of your noodles, attempting to shake off the misplaced hope Joshua had instilled in you. “It doesn’t matter. I broke it off when he confessed. I was kind of a bitch to him, actually, so I’m not sure he ever wants to see me again.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath on that. He looks just as bad as you do, you know. Whatever you said to him, it worked, but I know Minghao. At least, I used to. To this day I haven’t met anyone even close to the man he is. He’ll forgive you if you’re honest.” Joshua stood and stretched his shoulders, his neck still flushed from eating your food. You stared up at him, more than a little dumbfounded. “Look, there’s an exhibition for the school of photography on Friday. Student admission is included in the cost of tuition.”

You knew what he was trying to tell you. Minghao would be there, no doubt about it. If you wanted to mend things with him, it was your best opportunity to talk to him somewhere he couldn’t shut a door in your face.

He had just turned to walk away when you spoke. “Why do you even care, Joshua?”

He stopped. When he looked at you again, there was genuine regret in his eyes. “I owe you. A lot more than this, considering what I did. Consider this my first act of earning forgiveness.”

“It was Chaeyoung’s idea, wasn’t it?”

He smiled wryly. “She misses you. Even if you never speak to her again, she wants you to be happy.”

Joshua said nothing else before he walked back into the throng of students in the dining hall. You remained frozen for a long time, your ramen now ice-cold and your thoughts running circles around you.

Fear had made you break it off with Minghao at the moment he told you everything you’d been dying to hear. He’d confessed and you’d thrown it in his face, believing yourself too broken to be with someone like him. He was the sun, you were a violent storm. Where he was peace personified, you often felt closer to screaming until the heavens fell. It shouldn’t work between you, but it did.

You loved him. That much was simple. It wasn’t until this very moment that you truly considered he might love you too. He had basically said as much, but it was now, six days late, that you believed him. If Minghao felt even half as miserable as you did now, you would spend the rest of your life trying to get over the guilt of hurting him.

You groaned and let your head fall into your hands. You had royally fucked up.

~ DAY FORTY-TWO ~

It seemed kismet that the exhibition—a.k.a. your excuse to beg for Minghao’s forgiveness—took place on what should have been the last day of the arrangement. You hadn’t even been sure you would show up until you arrived at the gallery.

I’m not gonna go, you’d said to yourself while curling your hair. You’d struggled to choose between two outfits, both of which Minghao had bought for you towards the beginning of this whole thing. Sooo not going. You’d decided to put on a little bit of makeup at the last minute. I’m just gonna order takeout again.

Now, you stood in front of the glass gallery doors, your heart in your throat and fear creeping in at the edges of your vision. It would be so much easier to walk away. He hadn’t seen you yet, it wasn’t too late to back out.

Your feet carried you forward without your permission. Each step was more confident than you really felt. Even if he wouldn’t give you another chance, which you wouldn’t blame him for, you were possessed by the need to tell him he’d been right. You did love him, and you were a fool, and your inability to love maturely was not his fault.

The gallery was beautiful, architecturally speaking. Everything inside the white stone building was pale, glossy wood, accented with stainless steel and glass. A large crystal chandelier dominated most of the lobby space, looking more like dripping ice as it hung over the crowd below. Every wall, even disappearing into the corridors branching off from the lobby, were covered by student work.

Low voices formed a steady hum around you, most people enraptured by the photos on the walls. You found yourself among them. Some of these photographs were incredible. It was obvious to you that your peers had poured their entire souls into their work, and some of these images were somehow better quality than your actual vision. For the first time, you understood what drew Minghao to photography as an art form.

You walked slowly along the wall, stopping briefly to admire each piece. For reasons you couldn’t fathom, a photo of a wilting flower nearly brought you to tears. You weren’t sure if it was really the art itself or if you were just feeling fragile. Possibly both. You continued on aimlessly, almost forgetting why you were here in the first place. You had no idea where Minghao was in all this, but you were bound to find him eventually.

You stopped when you reached the end of one of the hallways, this entire section seemingly occupied by one photographer’s unique style. Most of the pictures were in black and white, a select few of them rendered in shocking color. It was one of the color photographs that drew your attention.

Recognition teased the back of your mind as you approached. It depicted a dripping sink in a public restroom, the entire space covered in grime except the vibrant blue flower sitting on the counter. You had no idea why this scene seemed familiar to you—you certainly hadn’t been in this bathroom before.

You moved on to the next color photograph, but you didn’t really see it. Your entire body seized without reason, suddenly aware of a subtle change in the air.

You felt his presence without having to look. Despite your anxiety at baring your soul to him, you felt inexplicably lighter knowing he was here. Minghao walked up to stand beside you, mirroring your stance with his arms crossed over his chest. You gazed at the picture in front of you together in silence. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t focus your eyes on the art.

“Why are you here?”

His voice almost brought you to tears. I love you. “I came to see you.”

“Why?”

I love you, I love you, I love you. “To apologize.”

Minghao looked over at you. His eyes took you in, heat flooding your skin everywhere his gaze touched. “For what? Breaking up with me before we had a chance to date or crashing my senior photo exhibition?”

You recoiled. “Both, I guess.” You forced yourself to turn so you could look at him. It was a mistake. Minghao looked amazing. His skin was flushed with lively color, wonderfully offsetting the deep black of his hair. He’d foregone the blue-light glasses today, meaning there was nothing to protect you from the weight of his gaze. You realized with no small amount of certainty that you would do anything for Minghao to wear a suit forever. You opened your mouth and closed it several times, unsure of what to say now that he was in front of you. I love you, Hao. You were right. “Are these your pictures?”

“Yes.”

“They’re lovely.” You meant it. Minghao had a mastery over color that you would never be able to fully appreciate.

He looked back at the photograph hanging in front of you, a pensive look on his face. There was a strange, subtle humor there, too, though you had no idea why. “Thank you. It took a lot of sleepless nights, but I’m glad I didn’t give up on them.”

Guilt nagged at your thoughts. He hadn’t given up, but you certainly had. “I’m sorry I gave up,” you voiced aloud. “You didn’t deserve the way I treated you.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I was afraid. I know that’s no excuse, but it’s true.” You took a deep breath and lifted your chin, staring at Minghao’s side profile as he looked at his photo. “Joshua fucked me up, Hao. I’ve been so terrified to open up again, to anyone, and I ran away the second you tried to give me what I’d been hoping for.”

“I’m not him.”

“I know. I know that now. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I’m sorry I tried to lie so that you would leave first. It was wrong, and I promise I’m trying. Because I—” you choked. I love you. You cleared your throat and tried again. “I love you.”

He was silent for a long time, long enough that you wondered if he would turn and walk away without a word.

“You love me?” He said at last. He spoke the words slowly, like he was tasting them, testing the weight of them on his tongue.

You shuddered. “Yes.”

Minghao took a deep breath and nodded once to himself. “You haven’t really looked at my work at all, have you?”

It was, without a doubt, the last thing you’d expected him to say. “What?”

He gestured vaguely at the piece in front of you, your eyes following the movement. You processed the couch first, then the fact that there was a body beneath a blanket on top of it. Hair fanned across a pillow, the girl’s face obstructed from view by a glare of sunlight. But one of her arms was extended, reaching limply towards whoever was behind the camera as she held up the blanket covering her. Beckoning them closer, asking them to join her.

Realization broke over you with the force of a tsunami. That was your living room. It was you on the couch, two weeks ago, sleeping the day away while Minghao watched TV from your secondary loveseat. At least, you’d thought he’d been watching TV. You remembered being cold and having trouble falling asleep, enough that you’d sleepily asked Minghao to join you. He’d pretended to be annoyed as he clicked off the television and slid onto the couch beside you, easily gathering you into his arms like you were made to be there. It was the best sleep you’d gotten since before your breakup with Joshua.

Apparently, he’d taken a picture of you before granting your tired request. The photograph, blown up to massive size and framed, was titled To Love Easily.

“Oh my god.” You covered your mouth with a shaking hand, your eyes darting to take in Minghao’s other displayed photographs. The bathroom. The bathroom, depicted more symbolically than it appeared in real life. Another of your hands, covered in flour from when the two of you attempted to make homemade pasta. A shot of Minghao’s fingers in your hair, a tiny blue flower petal tucked between the strands. You remembered it. He’d braided your hair for you before went to the hockey game because you were sick of it touching your neck.

All of these photos, in one way or another, were about you. The story of you, told through Minghao’s eyes. Suddenly, with blinding clarity, you saw yourself the way he did. Yes, you were a raging storm, but one seen through the window of a warm, dry home. If you decided to scream until the heavens fell, Minghao would be there to catch them.

“You love me.” You repeated his earlier question back at him, but it was no real question. Minghao loved you.

“Yes, darling, I love you.” A strangled sob broke from your chest, instantly embarrassing you. Minghao’s fingers gently took hold of your elbow and turned you to face him. “I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen. I already knew why you lashed out the way you did—expected it, even. You were just a little meaner than I expected, that’s all.”

You laughed despite yourself. One side of his lips kicked up in a small smile. His hand gently squeezed the back of your neck and he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“How do you not hate me?” You murmured.

“I can’t hate you for making a mistake. I knew you would come around. I mean, have you seen me?”

You halfheartedly punched his arm as he snickered. Before you could process that he moved at all, Minghao’s mouth was on yours. The kiss was gentle. Exploratory. It was what the last kiss should have been before you ripped yourself away.

His tongue gently probed yours, one small lick across your bottom lip turning your limbs to jelly. Minghao increased the pressure, his hand drifting from your neck to between your shoulder blades, then to your waist. He gently squeezed your soft skin and, completely on accident, you released a tiny moan that only he could hear.

You broke apart immediately. You stared at one another wide-eyed, embarrassment setting your cheeks aflame. Slowly, a sly smile took over Minghao’s face. Oh god. You’d seen that look many times before.

He leaned in so his mouth was pressed against the shell of your ear. He exhaled softly, drawing a small, contented sigh from you. Minghao squeezed your waist again.

“The exhibition is over in twenty minutes. Think you can wait?”

-----

You didn’t even make it through your front door before Minghao had you off your feet. You squealed as he lifted you into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his trim hips. He pressed you against the wall of your entryway, his hands braced on either side of your waist.

He nuzzled the juncture between your neck and shoulder, his lips dragging soft lines along your skin. Your sleeve had fallen down past your shoulder, baring your collarbone to the mercy of his mouth. You groaned at each small love bite he left, his mouth so gentle that you hardly felt the sting.

“I have waited—” he began, and you groaned when he sucked particularly hard on the side of your throat “—so long for this.”

You shared the sentiment. You’d developed feelings for Minghao fairly quickly into the arrangement and your brain had been plagued by imagining this exact scenario since. “Kiss me, then,” you said breathlessly.

He needed no further encouragement. Minghao’s lips eagerly found yours, this kiss nothing like its predecessors. He kissed you urgently, hungrily, like he might very well die if he stopped. You flattened your hips against his, a choked sound of pleasure escaping both of you when you ground against his erection. You hadn’t expected him to be hard already, but you figured he probably had been since the two of you hastily left the gallery.

His tongue invaded your mouth with an intensity that drew sharp pants from your throat. You returned his energy stroke for stroke, unable to get enough of him. Your hands dragged from his hair to his shoulders and further down, your nails digging in as you gripped his ass and forcibly pulled his hips tighter against yours. Minghao thrust against you, the friction making you see stars even with your clothes still on.

He gripped your ass hard enough to bruise and jerked you away from the wall so he could stumble to your bedroom. You barely made it, both of you kissing wildly and breathlessly giggling the entire way.

His body blanketed yours as you fell onto the bed, his warmth comforting and heartbreakingly familiar. You both muttered incoherent praises and I love you’s into the other’s mouth, still unable to get close enough. You sighed contentedly as he began to work his way down your body, taking clothes as he went. His chilled fingers slid beneath your blouse and helped you remove it completely, leaving you in a lacy white bra. He unabashedly moaned at the sight, and you would have giggled if not for the wet kiss he placed on each of your nipples over the fabric.

He continued his leisurely journey downwards, his hands kneading your breasts. His lips drifted across your waistline with infuriating slowness. You whined when he caught the button of your pants between his teeth and tugged lightly before moving on. Your fingers tangled in the roots of his hair, simultaneously enjoying its softness and lightly pulling to urge him on.

“Hao, you’re killing me here,” you murmured.

“Call it payback.” Despite his cocky words, his voice was strained with lust. You looked down at him and immediately regretted it when you almost came at the sight. His hair was wild from your hands running through it, flushed color high on his cheeks and his pupils blown so wide that hardly any brown remained.

No matter what he said, he wouldn’t be able to resist burying himself inside you for much longer.

At last, Minghao unbuttoned your pants and carefully pushed them down your legs, taking your underwear with them. You tried to find it within yourself to be embarrassed at your nakedness, but you couldn’t. Minghao’s eyes devouring you like this felt so right that it put a lump in your throat.

“I love you,” you told him again, as if you hadn’t said the same three words a hundred times in the last hour. Regardless, Minghao blushed again as if it were the first time you’d told him, a sweet smile pulling at his lips. When combined with the lust-crazed look in his eyes, though, you found yourself clenching woefully around nothing.

When your lower half was sufficiently stripped naked, Minghao lifted himself off the bed so he could remove his suit jacket and button-down, stepping out of his shoes at the same time. He did so slowly, methodically, and you watched him through hooded eyes, appreciating the tension of the wait as much as he did. Your mouth dried at the sight of him. His body was leanly-muscled and utterly perfect, dotted every so often with constellations of moles and small scars from past adventures.

“You’re so pretty,” you sighed, pleased when Minghao blushed again. He didn’t let your words distract him, instead settling between your thighs and roughly tugging your hips closer to his face. You gasped as you slid down the bed, anticipation thrumming in your veins.

His breath was unbearably warm against your overheated core and, like he could sense how it drove you wild, he blew lightly on your clit. Your entire body seized, your hands immediately burying themselves in his hair again.

“If we do this, darling, I want to make something abundantly clear.”

You cracked your eyes open, unsure when you had actually screwed them shut. “Yes, Hao?”

Minghao groaned and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. “If you say it like that again I might never let you leave this bed.” You squirmed, the need to have his mouth on you all-consuming. He kissed your other thigh, allowing his tongue to drag to your pelvic bone as you moaned. He waited until you were looking down at him, your chest heaving, before he spoke. “After tonight, I’m yours, do you understand me? You won’t be able to get me away from this pretty pussy.”

Your entire body flooded with heat. “Yes, Hao. You’re mine. I’m yours—” Your declaration cut off in a cry when Minghao’s tongue parted your folds in one long stroke. He stopped to dote on your clit, working you in tight, expert circles that catapulted you to the edge in three seconds flat.

You weren’t sure when one of his hands left your thigh, but you jolted in surprise when two of his fingers poised themselves at your entrance. He gathered your slick on his fingertips and pushed in at the same time his tongue increased its pressure. You moaned loudly and ground your hips against his face, tugging hard at the roots of his hair now. Minghao groaned against you, the vibrations driving you wild. His fingers pushed into you at an angle, over and over again, long enough that they easily bumped that incredible spot inside you on every pass.

You climbed higher and higher with no end in sight. You were a thread one small breath from snapping, your entire body quivering with your need to orgasm.

“You taste—” he sucked hard and wet on your clit “—so fucking good.”

“God, Hao, please—”

“Come for me, darling.” Minghao withdrew his fingers from you without warning. Before you could protest their absence he replaced them with his tongue, thrusting it into you with the fervor of a man starved. Your back arched and you cried out. A light sheen of sweat covered your entire body as you writhed. “Need to taste it, please—” His nose bumped your clit at just the right angle and the thread finally snapped.

Your orgasm tore through you like a shooting star. Your body lit up, explosions rippling all the way to the tips of your toes. You clenched hard around Minghao’s tongue and he moaned, obviously satisfied beyond belief, as you came in his mouth.

It felt like hours before you finally came down. Your entire body shook in the wake of what was probably the best orgasm of your life. Definitely better than any that Joshua had ever given you, a thought which made you giggle.

Minghao kissed his way up your body, his lips and chin shining with you. “What’s so funny?” He nipped at the spot below your ear before capturing your mouth in his. You groaned at the taste of you on his lips, instantly ready for him again.

“Oh, nothing.” You giggled. “Joshua could never—”

Minghao cut you off with an honest-to-god growl. He moved back to kissing your throat, leaving new hickies over the ones he’d already created. You bit your lip, still smiling at the ceiling as he lightly ground his clothed dick against your core. “Will you not say his name after I’ve just made you orgasm?” He asked indignantly.

You pushed Minghao off of you by his shoulders, pleased by the surprised look on his face as you rolled him onto his back. You felt unbelievably powerful as you straddled him now. He couldn’t keep his eyes off your breasts even if he wanted to. You wordlessly reached behind you to unclasp your bra, taking your time sliding the straps down your shoulders. At last you were left bare before him and you tossed your bra across the room.

He began to sit up, his face dark with lust, but you stopped him before he could take your nipple in his mouth. He met your eyes, confused, and you answered him with a knowing smile.

You kissed his jaw, then his throat, pushing him back down onto his back as you moved to his torso. You didn’t torture him by moving slowly as he had with you, looking up at him through your eyelashes to observe his reactions. His breaths turned into quiet, short gasps when your mouth reached the skin just above his pants.

You unbuttoned his pants slowly, taking your time pulling those down first, then his underwear. Your mouth dried when his hard cock sprang free, the tip flushed and glistening with precum. You had no doubt that the stretch would be incredible—both his size and shape were perfect for you, like he had been designed with you in mind. Or perhaps the other way around. If there was ever a doubt in your mind about how much he wanted you, it was gone now.

His hips thrusted gently into the open air, seeking nonexistent friction. You took a moment to admire him and bit your lip. You pressed more kisses to his soft thighs, his knees, his hips. His cock twitched.

“Pretty boy,” you purred. He shuddered.

Minghao moaned again. “Please, baby—”

You cut him off by wrapping your lips around the head of his cock. He instinctively thrusted hard, nearly choking you, but you didn’t mind in the slightest. You wantonly moaned around him, gratified by the hard shudder that worked its way through his body in response.

The taste of him was addicting. You recklessly sought more of it as you took him further into your mouth, stopping only when he hit the back of your throat. You gagged and Minghao’s hands threaded into your hair, pulling it into a loose ponytail at the nape of your neck. You were dripping down your thighs now, a mixture of your cum from your last orgasm and the new need to have his cock inside you.

“You’re so sexy—ah—yes, just like that.” Minghao’s praises were music to your ears, only fueling you to bob your head on him faster. You relaxed your throat as best you could, pride swelling in your chest when you managed to take him deep. He gasped sharply when you swallowed around his length. “Fuck—yes, do that again—”

You obeyed, ignoring the tears overflowing onto your cheeks and the lewd sounds you were making. Minghao seemed so turned on now that he might explode out of his skin. Your hand found his sac, gently massaging it in time with the movements of your mouth. You felt him tighten beneath you, a telltale sign that he was seconds from cumming.

Not for the first time tonight, Minghao moved too quickly for you to process in a timely manner. Before you could blink you were trapped beneath him on the mattress, tears still staining your face and the taste of his cock in your mouth. He kissed you feverishly, his dick sandwiched between you as he ground himself against your stomach.

“I want to finish inside you, not before,” he said into your mouth, eliciting a groan from deep in your chest.

“Yes,” you hissed. You took his cock in your hand and smiled when he jerked. By this point, even with your previous orgasm, both of you were so sensitive that you wouldn’t last long. “Are you clean?” you asked.

“Yes, why—”

“Good, because I want you raw. I have to feel you—”

Minghao cut you off with a wild moan and kiss, his lips barely giving you time to catch a breath. “God, I love you.”

Your heart bloomed with warmth. This is what you’d been so terrified of? Loving and being loved in return?

He helped you line up the head of his cock with your entrance, notching it in just enough to stay there as he pressed a shaky kiss to your forehead. Your eyes were locked on where he entered you as he pushed in to the hilt.

You both released simultaneous moans of relief. Your limbs trembled as you tried to accommodate his size, the stretch burning through you in delicious licks of pleasure.

“You feel so good…” he murmured, taking one of your breasts into his mouth and sucking relentlessly at the nipple. “God, you’re so tight—”

You whined, urging him to move. He obeyed, slipping out of you almost completely before pushing back in. His face fell against your shoulder and he softly bit down on your flesh to stifle his moans. You unintentionally clenched around his length in response, dragging another strangled groan out of him.

He easily hit your g-spot on every thrust. You found yourself coiling tighter and tighter, dangerously close to your orgasm once again. Your walls continuously fluttered around him, made more intense by the string of unintelligible praises and curses that fell from his lips.

He captured your mouth in his again. Your nails dug into his shoulders and dragged low on his hips—you knew you would leave scratches, but you didn’t care in the slightest. Neither did he, apparently, because his thrusts turned wild. He impaled you on his cock over and over again, his pace brutal and unrelenting as you both sought your highs.

There wasn’t a single thought in your head save the feeling of Minghao pounding into you. You were an absolute mess, as was he—hair tangled, sweat-slicked bodies colliding and faces pinched with pleasure.

“Cum inside, baby—” you moaned “I’m on the pill, please. I need you—”

“Ah, fuck—” Minghao cut himself off and his thrusts grew sloppier, signaling that he was close. The sensation of his cock pulsing inside you ignited your second orgasm like a wildfire.

Your walls contracted hard enough that he moaned unrestrained this time, and he stilled momentarily as he filled you in repeated, thick spurts. Euphoria shattered through you, so intense you could scarcely breathe around it. He rocked his hips against yours slowly, working you both through your highs without crossing the line into pain.

When you both returned to earth, Minghao still didn’t remove his cock from you. Instead he rolled onto his side with his arms around you, taking you with him, and you threw a leg over his hips. You laid like that for a long time, just basking in the comfortable silence and aftershocks of your orgasms.

Tonight had ended the best way it possibly could have. You kissed Minghao lazily, like you had all the time in the world to do so. And really, you did. His fingers traced gentle lines up and down your spine as you drew small circles on his ribcage.

“Why did you agree to fake dating me?” You asked suddenly.

“Hmm?”

“The day we met, you said the arrangement would be mutually exclusive. What did you mean?”

Minghao laughed softly. “I’d forgotten about that. That day in the bathroom wasn’t the first time I saw you,” he confessed. “The first time I saw you was last spring outside the library. You were carrying this huge stack of books and you dropped them without question so you could help a caterpillar off the staircase. You put it in the grass and continued on like it was nothing.” Your jaw dropped. You barely remembered that and were shocked that he did, especially in such detail. “I think that’s when I fell in love with you, but who knows.” He drew back to look at you, satisfaction oozing from his every pore at your shock. He kissed the tip of your nose. “I have a proposition for you,” he murmured.

Your eyes narrowed. The last proposition had taken both of you for a wild ride, to say the least. “What is it?”

Minghao smiled.

“Will you be my girlfriend?"

~ DAY FOUR HUNDRED SEVENTEEN ~

You were almost more nervous to walk across the stage because Minghao was in the audience. Graduating college was already nerve-wracking, but put a smoking-hot boy who only had eyes for you in the mix? You were a goner.

You gripped your fake diploma for dear life—the real one was tucked safely in your purse beneath Minghao’s chair—and prayed you wouldn’t eat shit halfway through your walk.

You glanced out at the audience, finding your boyfriend’s face immediately. No, scratch that—fiancé. You still couldn’t get used to it, even if it had been a month already. You glanced down at the ring glittering on your finger, a dainty, whimsical thing that perfectly suited the man who had given it to you.

The sight gave you comfort. You looked back up at Minghao, who now had a pleased smile on his face as if he could sense the direction your thoughts had taken. He flashed you a conspicuous thumbs-up and you giggled quietly.

You turned back to the stage, suddenly aware that you were next to walk. You wished Minghao were up here with you, but he had graduated the semester prior and was left to support you from afar. You watched as Chaeyoung—the valedictorian, funny enough—shook hands with the boy who had gone before you, a radiant smile on her face. She looked beautiful. But then again, she always was. One of these days, you might actually achieve fully forgiving her so you could ask where she got those earrings.

Distantly, you heard the announcer call your name and the following whoops and cheers from Minghao and your family. The grin on your face wasn’t faked—over the past year-and-a-half, more and more of your smiles had become genuine.

You took a deep breath. Aware of Minghao watching you, you took the first step into the rest of your life.

BOOM! and with that, minghaoyoudoin is finally deserving of her name haha 😆 thank you again for reading if you made it this far, please leave a like and/or reblog if you enjoyed!

masterlist here :)

© minghaoyoudoin 2022 - all rights reserved. reposts/translations not allowed. I do not assume to know the personal lives of the idol(s) depicted in this fic, this is for entertainment purposes only!

[derangedanomaly]

Hi, I was hoping to request a scenario with undertale bros, underfell, underswap, and horrortale. (Ignore horrortalenif itsnalready to much) and in this, reader is blind. People have the ability to heal blindness now since monsters got to the overworld because of the healing magic, but there's that 1% of people who just can't be healed. I would love to see how they would act when first meeting them and how they eventually grow to see them as best friend or lover. You can depend d if it's best friend or lover I'm fine with ether!

Thank you for reading this, and please have a nice day/afternoon! Also stay safe!

This is really interesting! Y'all are getting really creative with these scenarios. I like it! I also hope you have a nice day/afternoon, and stay safe! Enjoy! (Also, sorry for the delay)

Masterlist

UNDERTALE AUS X BLIND READER

(Undertale, Underfell, Underswap, Horrortale)

Warning: mention of cannibalism in the Horrortale part (not very detailed though)

UNDERTALE

They're both so considerate of you. They want you to have absolutely no problems while walking around anywhere. (Papyrus is your own assigned shield )

They're both very surprised when they found out that you're one of a kind with this 'defect'.

Papyrus will immediately want to be your friend! He will try so hard to gain your friendship.

Sans on the other hand will kinda avoid you. Unless you need help with something. He WILL help you. No matter if you're friends or not. He just has this respect towards you.

Who knows. Maybe- they'll want to become more than friends 😉 (Depending on your relationship with them) (this goes for all the following AU's!!)

UNDERSWAP

Sans feels this need to help you out a lot of times. Which makes you in turn feel a little "pathetic".. but you know he means well!

Papyrus will be around you quite a lot, because he wants to help you out whenever. (Similar to Classic, just without avoiding you)

They both just help you out. Though Papyrus does so in secret, while Sans...not as much.

Since Sans keeps in contact with Error, he introduces him to you! You and Error immediately click together, Error's short sight and your blindness is the core reason for your friendship. (Even though they're not really the same thing)

Sans is delighted that you two get along so well! But after a few interactions...he starts to feel jealous. (Lmao, you started this though 💀)

Papyrus doesn't want you to have any sort of connection with Error. He wants you to stop interacting with him immediately. It's worse enough that Sans keeps in contact with Error. (Let the besties be! 🙄)

UNDERFELL

Lmao, they don't give a shit about your defect. They'll still treat you as if you never even HAD any blindness. (That's so sweet though, wtf?)

Sans will probably make lots of jokes about blind people. (They're pretty much dark jokes)

Papyrus on the other hand will sometimes forget that you're blind, and will "accidentally" slip up. (Many times)

"You seeing this shit Y/n?" <- Papyrus 2024

Papyrus and Sans will accompany you a lot though. You'll be squished between them a lot. (What dream-)

They act like such brutes, but once they're alone with you, they'll turn into soft puddles. (Lmao. Imagine that.)

HORRORTALE:

Horror actually likes the fact you can't see him.. he thinks like that because he knows you'll probably be very terrified of him if you would've seen him in person. (Poor baby-)

Papyrus is kinda oblivious to your blindness, until Sans has to point it out to him.

They're both very much- worried about your safety.

Look, they don't doubt your abilities, it's just that you being blind makes you an easy target. The solution? SKELE-BROTHERS PROTECTION SQUAD!! (Papyrus came up with the name 💀)

They're very violent towards the people that cross ways with you. I swear- they don't hesitate to kill people for you.

Papyrus kinda turned you into a cannibal accidentally- he fed you his famous spaghetti 💀

But you know, you didn't know the contents of the meal, and was enjoying it too much. And you know... The more you had it the more you became addicted to it. (I mean, it's Horrortale. What did you expect?)

You knew that you were eating human meat at some point, since Papyrus and Sans kept dropping hints. (Aka. Making it obvious) but you were too far into eating it, this being the 10th time Papyrus served you Spaghetti. What's the use in stopping now?

[centuryberry]

Imperial Harem Novel AU

Note: This wasn't really requested, but I've already summarized the Replanted AU, Abandoned Yue AU, and the Fae AU, so why not this one? This particular AU has a place in my heart - mostly because it's silly. Also because there was a plot twist in there that I never managed to address so I'm writing it out now.

Summary: When Wukong wakes up in a trashy imperial harem novel he'd been reading, he's horrified. Why? Because he's in the body of a character who shares his name - a tyrant king who causes a lot of pain and suffering to everyone including the female lead. Wukong decides that, since he's here for the time being, he was going to fix the other him's mistakes and leave the world better than he found it by the time he finds a way back home.

(Sounds easy enough as a concept, but Wukong can't act for his life and he has serious imposter syndrome. Oh well, time to spam the amnesia button and fake it 'til he makes it.)

Everyone Else's POV:

The Monkey King was a tyrant who either spilt blood or added to his large harem. He selfishly ignored the matters of the crown and contributed to the suffering of his people.

Queen RinRin is left to manage the throne's affairs on her own, frustrated by her husband's selfishness and destructive tendencies.

Consort Macaque is tormented by the endless string of lovers his husband takes. He grows resentful after so many heartbreaks and lets it out on the harem. Violently.

Concubine Shanzha heard the rumors about the king. She tries to keep her head low but she's somehow gained his attention. And she's scared of all the trouble that is going to come with it.

Unexpectedly, the Monkey King suffered a head wound and was bedridden for days. Perhaps it was an assassination attempt? No one knows.

It didn't matter because the Monkey King woke up without his memories. It caused a bit of chaos all around. Everyone expected even more trouble.

To everyone surprise, he didn't.

The king started to participate in state affiars. He was clumsy and inexpierienced, but he was still trying his best. RinRin finds herself charmed by this new version of her husband.

While he doesn't remember Macaque, the king has become far more considerate and had dissolved the harem. The consort's resentment and bitterness was all but forgotten.

While the majority of the harem disbanded, Shanzha had to stay because of her political hostage position. But...it wasn't that bad? The king was respectful and gave her a lot of agency. She could pray and shoot at the archery range when she pleased.

Everyone doesn't say it out loud, but they liked this new king better. They hoped he never got his memories back.

Wukong's POV:

He's freaking out y'all.

I mean, it's pretty obvious, but it still needed to be said. He was freaking out.

Wukong didn't finish reading the novel before he was yeeted into it. He got so frustrated that he tossed it away. He regrets it so much now.

Wukong is the sheer definition of faking it til you make it. He spammed the HELL out of his amnesia while he tried to get into the groove of his role as Emperor.

Wukong's initial goal was to survive and not have any one find out he was an imposter. Then, after seeing just how much the OG!Wukong fucked everything up, he took it upon himself to unfuck as much as he can.

Good news: Wukong is making more progress than he expected. He's taking some of the load off of RinRin's shoulders by participating in meetings; he's taking away the major stressor in Macaque's life by dissolving the harem; and he's trying to make Shanzha's time in the kingdom as bearable as possible.

Bad news: All three of them somehow took his actions as an invitation to start trying to seduce him. Don't get him wrong. They're all gorgeous and amazing - Wukong isn't blind - but he's not really their husband. He's just some loser who hijacked their real husband's body. So he puts on the "I don't know I'm dumb" vizor on and hopes to high hell that no one sees through it.

They eventually do, so Wukong elects to scream and run.

When Shanzha opened up to Wukong and told him about her life and of her niece, he cried. He was always a sucker for tragic backstories. Why didn't the novel talk about this?

Not long after, he requested demanded Shanzha's homeland to send over her niece. Shanzha was overwhelmed when he gave her the exciting news.

Since Wukong taking a ward was huge, the entire court were there to recieve Yue. It was actually the first time RinRin and Shanzha crossed paths. It was butterflies at first "hi" for the queen who was regretting not being more involved with the harem.

Shanzha and Yue's reunion was so tearjerking that Wukong had to take a minute. Then, it was revealed that Yue was actually Macaque's family too. The six ears kinda made it obvious. Plot twist after plot twist, why didn't the author of the trash novel focus on THIS?!

Wukong never saw a baby monkey before so he's practically exploding because of Yue's cuteness. He was super duper doting.

Wukong also saw a way out of the entire "making an heir" business, so he names Yue his heir and hopes that this stops his spouses from trying to jump him.

It doesn't. Wukong's "Baba" energy just made him even more irresistable. Sorry Wukong.

The three have also joined forces. Oh no.

The Plot Twist:

One day, little Yue blinks up at Wukong and asks him if he can pretty please take her to see the nearby waterfall together. When he does, Yue takes advantage of the waterfall being a natural white noise machine to talk to him.

Yue: "You're a transmigrator too, aren't you?" Wukong: 😮"Whaaaaaaa-?!"

Yup, Yue's a transmigrator. She also read the trashy novel - all of it. So she has all the deets, which Wukong begs off of her by helping her reach high places and giving her treats.

Everyone: Aww, he's so good with her Wukong: Oh wise senior, please share your wisdom Yue: Tell the cooks to make the Dan Dan Noodles extra spicy hot and I'll think about it

Yue also helps her fellow homie out by being a deterrent for romantic advances. Can't talk or do anything beyond PG around the baby.

Wukong tells Yue about his plan to run away after setting everything and leaving the kingdom to her and she bluntly tells him that it was a dumb plan.

Yue: "At least wait until I'm not a baby to abdicate."

Yue also (gently) breaks it to Wukong that he's stuck here. The him in his original reality is most likely dead.

So, after a bit of spiraling, Wukong approaches his spouses and tells them the truth.

It was a bit shocking and they (Macaque and RinRin) needed some time to come to terms with the revelation, but this doesn't deter the three of them in the slightest. They're all in love with this Wukong and want to spend the rest of their lives with him.

(By the time Yue comes of age, Wukong does accept their advances enough to give her cute little brothers lol.)

[hoshologies]

ALL GREEK LOVE, LEE H.

synopsis — you spent the entire summer telling your family that you weren't going to join a sorority. now not only are you an initiated member of delta eta sigma, but you've been elected to the social chair position for you chapter. that's all well and good until heeseung lee, the newly elected social chairman for lambda rho and well-known in the greek community, reaches out to you to start planning runouts between your respective chapters. and now you're spending a lot more time with the cutest boy you've ever met.

genres &&. warnings — romance, fluff, meet-cute, smut, strangers to friends to lovers!au, college!au, greek life!au &&. underage drinking, afab!reader, tipsy sex, dry humping, oral (f!receiving), fingering, overstimulation.

word count — 15.7k.

from the author — not to be totally sorority girl, but the way i see greek life depicted in college au fics is CRAZY. now that i'm back hardcore into my kpop stan era, i rewatched the drunk-dazed mv and was like hmm... so the ultimate plan here was to write heeseung filth but also portray greek life a little more accurately because even if i'm not a huge fan, one thing about me is i'm gonna make sure y'all KNOW that greek life isn't just parties every weekend.

jokes aside, i really hope you enjoy this fic and my first real return to writing. likes, reblogs, and feedback are always welcome. and honestly, if you have any questions about greek life that you just have to know the answer to, i'm an open book.

if you enjoyed it, feel free to buy me a ko-fi!

the entire summer before starting your freshman year of college, you had told your family that you weren’t going to join a sorority. in your mind, there was a specific mold that one needed to fit into to join a sorority and quite frankly, you checked none of the boxes of those stereotypes. 

yet here you sit, months later, in your sorority’s chapter meeting. and you’ve just been elected to the social chair position of the chi nu chapter of delta eta sigma. 

truthfully, you’re not quite sure how you ended up here. you hadn’t formally rushed the week before school, but a couple of drunk girls at a frat party at the beginning of the semester had told you that you should rush their sorority. maybe you’d been a little desperate to branch out or maybe you were just a little curious of what rushing looked like, but a few days later at the student organization fair, you’d found the booth for the sorority the girls had told you they belonged to, delta eta sigma, and signed up for their informal rush.

by the end of october, you had been extended a bid, assigned a big, and promptly initiated into the chapter in what you jokingly referred to as a cult ritual (how could you describe it any other way? all white outfit? candles? promises to not divulge secrets about rituals that happen behind closed doors?).

and now, just three weeks after officially joining the chapter, you’ve ended up on the programming board somehow. you’d gotten a call from the selection board while sitting in the drive-thru of mcdonalds, waiting impatiently for your order of fries and a sprite as a treat for doing well on your gen psych quiz. the girl who’d called you said you’d made “quite the impression” on the sorority since accepting the bid and that they (including the chapter advisor) thought you’d be the perfect fit for the social chair.

“it’s a solo position, so you won’t have a co-chair like community service does, but given your grades so far this semester and the impact you’ve made on the chapter already, we would really love to see what you can do in this position! would you be interested?”

so really, how could you say anything but yes? you still don’t think you fit all that perfectly into the chapter, but they were giving you an opportunity to get involved and to make yourself fit. your name is announced for the social chair, one of your senior pictures pasted up on the powerpoint, and the girls around you smile and snap their fingers. from the executive board seats up front, your big smiles at you, eyes sparkling with something akin to pride.

a few days later, as you’re getting lunch at the student union, your phone screen lights up with a notification from groupme. a name you vaguely recognize is paired with a message that gets cut off after a few words.

heeseung lee: hey! this is heeseung from lambda rho and…

as you sit down with your salad and dr. pepper, you click the notification and read it in full. at the very top of the new message thread is heeseung’s picture and it clicks where you recognize him from. he’s friends with your big and he’s involved in a few of the bigger student organizations on campus, namely the activities board, so you’ve seen him in the student union fairly often.

[1:36 pm] heeseung lee: hey! this is heeseung from lambda rho! i’m friends with liv and she told me that you just got elected as the new social chair for your sorority. i just got slated into the same position for my frat.

[1:36 pm] heeseung lee: i know we won’t start running things until next semester, but i just wanted to reach out and touch base with you. i’m really looking forward to planning runouts with you next year :]

[1:37 pm] heeseung lee: sorry. i hope that wasn’t too weird. i guess i’m just a little too excited and want to get a bit of a headstart on things. have a good day!

you laugh to yourself, shaking your head as you set the phone down to take a bite of salad. before getting involved in greek life, you always assumed sorority girls and frat guys were airheaded and mean, people who peaked in high school, trying desperately to drag those glory days out. obviously since then, you’ve come to realize that while it is true in some occasions, most times, greek life members are the opposite.

heeseung, who you’ve never spoken to before, is proving that.

[1:42 pm] hi heeseung! not weird at all, i promise. and i’m really excited to plan events with you next semester too :]

by the beginning of february, you haven’t done much with your position. granted, the semester has only really been in full swing for about a week and a half and you have two full semesters to do plenty of things, but you’re itching to start planning. the binder you were given after the officer transition ritual has so many good ideas, everything from runouts with frats and sororities to both formal and semiformal.

while you’re brainstorming ideas for potential social events late on a tuesday night, your phone lights up from its spot on your nightstand, the short bell sound ringing out. you reach for it absentmindedly as you finish writing down the idea you had (rent out skating rink??? check budget). since the beginning of the school year, you’ve become desensitized to the groupme icon when it appears in your notifications, so much so that you barely register heeseung’s name upon first glance. it takes a second look for you to realize who’s texted you.

[9:12 pm] heeseung lee: sorry for texting so late. i just wanted to see if you wanted to meet up some time and start on some ideas for a runout?

[9:12 pm] heeseung lee: obviously not now!! but if you’re free some time this week, we could meet somewhere and talk. i spent all of winter break brainstorming stuff, so i’d really like to run it by you if that’s ok.

[9:14 pm] hi again heeseung. i was actually planning on getting lunch tomorrow at the student union after i’m done with class at 11 if you’re free then?

the second you press send, you immediately start second guessing yourself. does it come off like you’re asking him to have lunch with you? because that wasn’t your intention. really, you just meant that you’re going to be on campus proper for a little bit and wanted to offer to meet before you got lunch. not that it would be a bad thing if he asked if you could get lunch together; liv likes heeseung well enough and you’ve seen him around, and he really does seem nothing but nice, so lunch really couldn’t hurt— okay, take a breath. it is not that serious.

you take a deep breath and then let your muscles go lax as you exhale. better. 

it feels like ages pass before he texts back. you’re worried you’ve scared him off, but it really shouldn’t be that stressful. it’s just a text and he’s the one who wanted to meet up in the first place anyways; you just offered a time and location. but finally, your phone dings again and his name lights up your screen.

[9:21 pm] heeseung lee: actually that works perfect!! i get out of class at the same time and usually grab lunch at the u before heading to the activities board office. wanna meet by the dining area next to the office?

[9:21 pm] sounds like a plan!! i’ll see you then!

heeseung, you realize as you set your phone down and put away your binder for the night, is the only social chair of any of the greek organizations who has reached out to you to start getting the ball rolling. he seems to be just as anxious as you are about doing this job well, which makes you feel at least a little validated. nervous and jittery though you may be about meeting him for the first time tomorrow after only having chatted with him over text twice, the idea of him feeling the same as you brings a strange form of comfort. with enough of it, you actually start looking forward to seeing him tomorrow as you lay down to sleep, mind running a mile a minute with what it’ll be like to meet him after all of the things you’ve heard about him from liv. by the time you slip into the embrace of sleep, anxiety has boiled down into anticipation.

at 11:02 the next morning, heeseung nearly scares the hell out of you when he shows up at the designated meeting spot. you’re so invested in your twitter scroll that you don’t notice when he walks up. it’s not until he says a soft “hi” that you jump and almost drop your phone in the process. when you look up, there’s a worried look on his face.

“sorry! i didn’t mean to scare you!” 

after a moment to catch your breath, you shake your head and wave his worry off, though the gesture doesn’t do much to make that worried look on his (undeniably pretty) face. “it’s okay, heeseung. really.”

to really seal the deal, you shoot him a gentle smile, trying to prove that your heart isn’t about ready to give out anymore. you feel blessed when he returns it, all quirked up at the corners and smile lines and soft, plush cheeks. silence falls, the two of you smiling and staring at each other like idiots until heeseung shakes himself out of his stupor.

“anyways…” he clears his throat and moves his gaze towards the food court. “what did you want to get to eat? my treat.”

you look up at him, at the way he’s pointedly not looking at you and instead examining the restaurants just beyond the dining areas. you know, the restaurants that have been the same for the last five years probably and will be here for another five, the ones he’s grabbed food from at least a couple of times since the semester started and even more since the beginning of the school year. 

“you don’t have to buy me lunch, heeseung. it’s-”

he finally turns to look at you again, that same easy smile still pulling his features into a soft form of happiness. “it’s no problem, really. just an act of good faith. all greek love and whatnot, you know?”

you laugh a little at that, conceding but allowing him to choose where he wants to get lunch from since he’s the one paying and you don’t really have a preference. by the time you’re sat opposite each other at a table with meals from the burger stall, your stomach is rumbling. you’re about half of the way through your burger when heeseung looks up from his fries, clearing his throat to get your attention.

“so…” he starts. it’s clear he hadn’t planned what he wanted to say before catching your focus, so an awkward silence settles over him, eyes on you but focused somewhere off behind you like he’s looking through you instead. you tilt your head, lean in close, which snaps him out of the trance and he restarts. “right, ideas for events. i have a binder from the last social chair of my frat with a bunch of things he did during his time.”

“oh! i do, too!” you interject. “there’s a bunch of stuff that the last girl did and then things some of the girls before her did too.”

heeseung’s grin breaks back across his face, bright and warm; you swear, a smile from this boy alone could break up the threatening winter storm currently hanging over campus. “there’s a bunch of good ideas in mine. but i’m not quite sure how well they’d work right now because of the weather.”

“are most of the ideas outside?” you inquire, taking a sip of your soda while he confirms your suspicions. when you put the cup back down, you wave off his concern. “no worries then. almost all of mine are ones that can be inside, so we could go through those if you want!”

heeseung nods and smiles that morning sunlight smile of his, and you can’t move quick enough to pull the thin pink binder out of your tote bag. he clears away some of the trash from the table so you can lay out the binder, intro page on full display. for the next five minutes, the pair of you pore over the pages upon pages of ideas, sleek white cut through with black ink that lists the idea, the locations, how much it costs. 

you’re so invested in going over everything with him that you hardly acknowledge when heeseung stands and moves into the open seat beside you so neither one of you is craning your neck. you simply adjust the binder so you can read through the pages comfortably. it isn’t until heeseung points one out excitedly and you look up in startle that you finally notice that he isn’t a foot away but inches, noses just centimeters apart.

right now, this is the most compromising position you could possibly be in with a boy you hardly know and you find yourself praying that nobody from either of your chapters decides to walk by. of course, neither of you have anything to hide – this is a simple brainstorming session, of course, absolutely nothing more – but liv and your small group of friends would never let you live this down if they saw it.

heeseung clears his throat after seconds that stretch into years and you break your gaze from his painfully (how can you be blamed for staring? he’s that soft kind of pretty that hypnotizes). “um… so i think rollerskating could be fun…”

it is a good event that your sorority has done with the other frats and sororities in the past, one that you were playing around with as a potential plan to pitch to him. the fact that he picked it out on his own accord makes you bristle with something akin to pride, a feeling so warm and comforting it has you leaning just a little closer to him.

let the girls see me, you think as your sweater-clad shoulder brushes against his own. there are worse things they could catch me doing.

“actually… this was one of the ones i was going to suggest if you didn’t find any that you were really interested in…” you say quietly, voice nearly lost in the din of the dining area of the student union.

heeseung looks at you, blinking slow and round and soft, as if each flutter of his eyelids is a moment of his brain processing your words. “really… maybe it’s a sign…?”

his voice is just as soft, matching your energy in one swift go. you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing as you, if he’s feeling that it seems like you’ve known one another forever despite only knowing each other for fifteen minutes max; it seems like your souls themselves are in complete synergy, so why would it be so farfetched to wonder if maybe you knew each other in a different life to have caused that synchrony?

you laugh a little and shrug, shoulder brushing against his softly; the movement is short and sweet, but your heart rises in you like the high tide, washing through your veins with foam and salt and the kind of breeze only the ocean can bring, chill and warm all at once. “maybe so.”

silence settles over the table like sand stirred on the ocean floor, the both of you lost in your own worlds. heeseung has dragged his soda to this side of the table and sips absentmindedly, gaze focused miles beyond the horizon of the hallway. he’s completely checked out when your consciousness wanders back into your body and you take the moment to study him a little: the even slope of his nose, high cheekbones paired with plush skin, long eyelashes that brush the apex of his cheeks when he blinks, a flutter of dark against light. 

there are worse boys you could be caught staring at.

you’re still thinking about your lunch with heeseung hours later, even when you’re out getting your weekly tuesday night ice cream with your big. liv is going on about how her professor for her linguistics class pissed her off during lecture today, but you’re not absorbing a single word of any of it. you remember vaguely that he openly disagreed with her during the lecture and they got into a debate in front of the whole class, but beyond that, you don’t know much else.

“god, he’s just the worst. i can’t believe– alright, you’re in the stratosphere right now. what’s going on?”

you snap back to reality, eyes wide and goosebumps prickling up under the sleeves of your sweater. you shake your head, trying to brush away the conversation she’s trying to prompt, even though it’ll be futile because liv can’t let things go for the life of her. “nothing! everything’s fine, i swear.”

liv’s eyes narrow and a single dark eyebrow quirks up. “yeah, i’m not buying it.”

you glare playfully at her, eating a spoonful of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. when you swallow, you answer with a pointed, “when do you buy anything i say? really, liv. it’s nothing.”

“did someone say something to you? i’m part of panhellenic and on the all-greek council. if someone did something, i can handle it.”

you shake your head earnestly and wave a hand for extra emphasis. “olivia. seriously. nothing happened.”

your big is silent for a few moments, studying you intently. her shady blue eyes, usually wistful and giving the impression of being miles away herself, cut right down to your very bone, as if she’ll find the answer she’s looking for written into your skin or soul, carved into your heart. eventually, she sighs and slumps back against the booth.

“alright, fine. i’ll believe you this time,” she says in a voice that hints at disappointment. “but you’d tell me if someone did say something to you, right? i’m serious about getting things taken care of if someone does something like that to you.”

you smile, reach across the table, rest your hand over her. “yes, liv. i would tell you if somebody treated me badly. you’re the only friend i have who would be willing to go to jail if needed. but i promise the situation doesn’t call for that right now.”

she perks up a little at your words and takes a deep breath, nodding. she’s back to her bubbly self, resuming her rant about her asshole linguistics professor who definitely shouldn’t have tenure. the whiplash her behavior gives you definitely just secured her an award for “most melodramatic” at formal in april (which, fuck you have to start planning that soon too).

you remain checked into liv’s rant, assenting when she asks you for your opinions on this professor who you’ve never met and never plan on meeting, and offering advice when she wants it. but you still find yourself wandering off at times, mind focused on heeseung.

you’re not sure why you don’t want to tell her about meeting with the boy earlier; she’s one of his friends and she’s always spoken so highly about him, so you shouldn’t feel embarrassed. in fact, she’s mentioned in passing a couple of times (mostly when she’s undeniably hammered) that she thinks you and heeseung would make a cute couple, even though she’s never seen the two of you interact, let alone exist in the same room.

but there’s something special about the thirty minutes you shared with heeseung. you met in a public place, sure, but something about it felt and still feels so sacred to you. it’s something you want to keep a secret for at least a little while. that soft sunshine smile and the low tide brushes of shoulders are things that, for now, belong solely to you and heeseung. it won’t kill liv to be left out of the loop for a while.

“do you think we should have it closer to midterms?” heeseung’s voice is pure static, like he’s going through a tunnel, even though there’s only half a campus worth of distance between you.

the two of you have graduated from groupme dms to phone calls over the course of three days. heeseung is saved affectionately in your phone as sseung with the deer emoji, one that you picked out as he sat across from you after you’d exchanged numbers; he doesn’t know about it, but he reminds you often of a deer caught in headlights with the way he stares at you all wide-eyed when you try to catch his attention.

“maybe? but people have to study. i’m not sure how often your guys are in the library, but i see at least thirty girls at the library every single night, so i’m not sure how willing they’d be to give up a night of studying, even if it is only for an hour, that close to midterms.”

heeseung’s small, thoughtful hmm is audible over the speaker and you smile to yourself over a basket of clean laundry. you’ve spent maybe three hours max with him over the last couple of days and already you have a pretty decent grasp on his personality and habits. right now, you can picture the way he likely looks up from his phone or planner and stares off past the beige cinderblock wall of his dorm room, turning possibilities over in his head.

“no, you’re right about that. i didn’t even consider it.”

you shrug as though he can see you, folding a pair of sweats and setting them to the side. “i’d definitely like for it to be soonish though. it doesn’t have to be planned super far in advance, you know what i mean? we’ve still got… what? a month until midterms?”

“i think so, yeah.”

you nod to yourself, hanging up one of your shirts. “okay, so what about two weeks from now? that lands us right in between now and midterms, so it’d be a happy medium.”

he’s silent on the other end of the line and you pause in your hanging of another shirt, worried that he’s thinking you’re stupid. of course, heeseung would never think anything like that about anyone because he’s the sweetheart to end all sweethearts. still, you worry because what this boy thinks of you is ridiculously imperative to your day to day functions.

three days, you remind yourself. you’ve known him for three days. there’s no reason for his opinions to hold this much weight.

you wonder if heeseung knows just how easy it is to like him, to be around him; if he knows just how much you want to see him all the time because he’s completely taken over your every waking thought. liv’s comments about him made in passing never could have truly captured just how amazing he is, nice and caring and so so pretty. you’re almost embarrassed to be this head over heels for him, but when he laughs over the phone or focuses all of his attention on you over a table in the food court, that mortification burns away into something soft and sweet and slow.

“i think that’s a great idea. not too soon, so we can make sure our chapters know it’s happening, but not too late that it disrupts any midterm studying.”

you breathe a sigh of relief and smile to yourself, resting your hands against the lip of the laundry basket. the rational part of your brain knew he was going to agree, but the part of you that so desperately craves his approval was disgustingly terrified that you wouldn’t receive it. now that you have, though, a heat rushes through you, pride warm and bright because you offered a good solution to the minuscule obstacle.

“yeah, exactly!”

you can just imagine the grin on heeseung’s face right now, delicate like freshly fallen snow. the image fills you with the giddiness of a high school girl, glad to be the one to have caused such a beautiful sight. “okay, cool. i’ll talk about it with the executive board, get it approved and whatnot, but i think we should be set, besides who’s paying for what.”

“what do you mean?” you question, brows furrowing as you finish up the last of your laundry.

“what do you mean?” there’s a playful, teasing edge in his voice. “someone has to pay to book the rink and the shoes, and don’t you think there should be snacks?”

“oh… yeah, i guess so.”

“so i was thinking we’d cover the booking and you could cover the food… but only if you’re cool with that! obviously, it’s not a big deal or anything, but i figured we should get that in order too so we can a specific date set and everything.”

“no, no! that works fine for me! i honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead, so it’s a good thing you did.” the line falls silent for a few moments, static crackling softly between you. there’s just something about the idea that you’re so close yet so far from each other, physically distant but holding each other close like this over a quiet cellphone line. it’s comforting to have him like this, you find.

“but yeah…” you break the stillness with your voice soft so as to not completely shatter the tranquility you’ve cultivated here. “that’s… that’s good thinking, heeseung.”

“hanks…” his own words mimic the same volume, nearly lost in the haze of the phone. “so… i’ll run it by the exec board and let you know?”

you hum a quick mhmm and tell him that you’ll do the same. there should be no reason that you’ll be denied, but the fact that liv, seeing as she’s vice president of programming, is part of the exec board and will find out that you’ve been, at the very least, talking to heeseung on a semi-regular basis (see: every day this week since tuesday afternoon) is a little nerve wracking, mostly because you’re ninety-nine percent sure she’s been hinting at trying to set the two of you up.

and when you say hinting, you mean pointing him out on campus or at parties and saying something like “really, i think you two would get along so well! you should go and talk to him.”

she was right about that, but the last thing you need right now is her finding out that you are catching feelings, all without her meddling. but you’ll make peace with the fact because you have to.

liv sidles up to you two weeks later on a thursday night, knit-clad arms crossed over her chest. you don’t even have to look at her to know she’s wearing a smug expression right now. “so…”

you don’t even physically react to her presence, instead choosing to gaze out over the rollerskating rink in your little college town. “so… what, liv?”

she nudges you with her shoulder and leans with her back against the wall separating the rink floor from the carpet of the sitting area. “you and heeseung, huh? i’ve been telling you for ages that the two of you would get along!”

you scoff playfully and roll your eyes, finally turning your head to look at her. “can you not start sentences like that?”

“like what?” she asks innocently.

“like heeseung and i have something going on. all we did was plan one runout together. we’ve only met, like, one time in person.”

you regret the words almost as soon as they leave the tip of your tongue because the second she hears the phrase “in person,” she’s already causing a scene. even though her voice is somewhat drowned out by the music blasting over the speakers, the absolute tenacity with which she gestures with her entire body draws more attention than it should. melodramatic as per usual.

“in person? when was this? and why was i not informed?” the questions liv asks a million times come out more like exclamations than anything else, too caught up in melodramatic distress to adjust the tone of her voice correctly.

you shrug absently, turning your head back towards the rink. heeseung is standing on the opposite side, talking to a few of the guys from his frat. he looks nice in his blue and green sweater and loose jeans, brown hair tousled from the winter breeze outside. “a couple weeks ago. and i didn’t tell you because it just wasn’t that important. we literally only had lunch just to talk about ideas for this.”

liv whines your name and stomps a foot like a child throwing a tantrum. “yeah, but i’m your big. i wanna know these things! and i’ve also been trying to set you two up forever! you didn’t think i’d want to know that you’d finally met him, even if it wasn’t because of anything i’d plan? my feelings are hurt.”

“first, this is exactly why one of the awards for formal this semester is going to be most over dramatic and exactly why you’re going to win,” you start, shaking your head and rolling your eyes. “second, i knew you would want to know, but i also knew this is how you’d react. i didn’t think you’d want to know about us setting up an event together, like… there’s no tea to spill or whatever. it’s just boring stuff. i don’t even know him that well.”

a bold-faced lie if you’ve ever told one; you know heeseung down to the cologne he puts on every morning. and maybe there was a little more to the event planning sessions. at least five times over the past two weeks, heeseung has approached you either in the food court or at the library, and taken the seat opposite of you to chat and study a bit. not to mention, you’ve texted every single day since the two of you officially met for the first time.

but again: nothing liv needs to know. heeseung, for now, is just your little secret. the conversations you’ve shared, the little details you know about him, the sweater he’d given you a few days ago when you’d gotten cold at the library and your own sweater had gotten soaking wet due to rain and your lack of an umbrella, those are your things, special and personal and entirely yours.

“ugh. the two of you are so boring,” liv moans dramatically, tipping her head back. “i hope you hang out more after this, but only if you tell me about it.”

you shrug and glance back across the rink. heeseung has shifted positions, his arms crossed over the railing and by some stroke of luck, he’s looking at you, looking otherworldly under the shifting blue and purple lights. he smiles softly, just a quick phantom of a grin, and the only think you can do is return it with that same gentleness and warmth.

“maybe,” you say, glancing over at liv and then back at heeseung. “i guess we’ll just have to see.”

a week later, you’re sitting in your dorm room on a friday night, finalizing edits for a midterm paper, when there’s a banging at your door fifteen minutes before ten.

“heyyy! let me innn!” liv’s voice is airy and slurred through the door, so you can already guess what she’s here for.

with a heavy sigh, you stand and make your way to the door, opening it and finding your big leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. she’s dressed in her usual party attire: ripped jeans, black tank top, dirty shoes reserved specifically for the sticky basement floors of frat houses. she’s holding a metal water bottle in her hands; you can only guess what she’s mixed in it tonight.

“what’s up, liv?” you ask, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe, even though you don’t need an answer. you hadn’t anticipated her being here, so you’re already decked out in your comfy night clothes, prepared for a night in only. 

“lambda is throwing a party and you’re going with me,” she says peppily, practically jumping up and throwing herself into your room.

“liv-“

she whips around on her heels to face you, eyes glowing in the soft gold of your fairy lights. “no fighting me on this. you’ve been working hard and you need a break. so you’re going to dress like the hot bitch you are and then we’re going to lambda.”

liv is rooted to the spot, though she sways a little on her feet, and makes it known without words that she is not moving until you get ready for this dumb frat party. eager to get her drunken glare off of you, you sigh and nod, closing the door behind you, shutting off your desk light, and moving towards your wardrobe, rifling through the hangers to find a proper outfit.

you’ve been to lambda rho’s house before and it is nothing to write home about… unless, of course, you’re talking about how absolutely filthy the basement is; they have the best sized basement out of all of the frats on campus, but you swear they have never done anything to clean the floor. the first time you went, you’d been having a great time drinking well-mixed jungle juice and dancing to the best songs of the 2010s when you noticed that every step you took sounded like velcro. the floor was so sticky that you were literally having to put pressure behind pulling your shoes from the concrete. it totally killed the vibe.

but the jungle juice and occasional jello shots are great, so you persevere. besides, lambda throws the best parties on campus and you’re clearly the person to trust on party hot takes since you only go back to frats you have a good time at (sorry, sigma pi).

plus, heeseung is in lambda rho and he has to be there since he’s the social chair and all, so… you note that out of the maybe five parties you’ve been to there since the beginning of the school year, you’ve never once seen him. granted, he’s only required to be at any parties hosted while he’s the social chairman, so maybe he just didn’t go to any last semester. or maybe he’s a wallflower like you, choosing to stand on the outskirts instead of in the center of attention.

lost in your haze of heeseung thoughts, you don’t really register that you’ve finished dressing and that liv has sat you down at your desk to fix your hair. somehow, while very much drunk, your big has an easy time styling it. she’s focused intensely on the task at hand, but also manages to carry on a one-sided conversation, not realizing that you’re not responding to her. but when she moves her hands from your head and sets them on the back of your chair, you’re amazed; she’s always been good at styling and fashion (hence why she’s been in charge of the homecoming student org dance and cheer competition every fall for the last two years), but you weren’t expecting her skills to be up to par while buzzed to hell and back.

“there we go, ready to wow heeseung,” liv says matter-of-factly, a proud look on her face. when you glare at her through the mirror, she smiles and shrugs lazily, reaching to grab her water bottle and phone from your desk. “what? he’ll be there tonight and i’ve heard through the grape vine that he might have a little crush on you, so…”

you whip around at her words, hands braced against the back of your chair. something like liquid anxiety prickles under your skin, sending goosebumps across your arms. liv is friends with just about everyone in greek life, so “the grape vine” could quite literally mean anybody, but who did she find that out from anyways? when did heeseung say anything like that? did he even actually say that or is she just deadset on shipping the two of you together until it either happens or falls through?

“what?”

she looks back at you over her shoulder, one hand resting on the doorknob and your dorm keys in the other. there’s a mischievous glint in her dark eyes and your heart drops; how did you get such a schemer as a big? “oh, yeah. i was hanging out at the lambda house the other night with yeonjun. you know? heeseung’s big? and he maybe mentioned something about it. why do you wanna know?”

she sidles back up to you, pulling you out of the chair by your shoulders. “do you maybe… i don’t know… like him back? why are you so nervous?”

you shake your head, trying to will the goosebumps on your arms and lightning in your veins away. you’ve claimed a million times over the last few weeks that there is nothing more going on between you and that boy, no matter how pretty or sweet you might think he is. heeseung is just a friend, someone you just so happened to click really well with and just so happened to plan a really fun event with. there’s nothing else to say about it or the way you get excited when his name shows up on your phone or how your day immediately gets better when he walks up to you at the library without texting you first, your favorite snack and coffee in hand and a smile on his face.

there’s nothing there to unpack. you think.

“i’m not nervous. and i bet yeonjun just misheard heeseung. the two of us are just friends. i’ve told you that a million times and i’m sure he’s said the same thing.”

liv just laughs and ushers you towards the door. “okay, okay… sure, sweetheart. let’s get over there before they run out of alcohol.”

jay, the self-appointed dj for every lambda rho party, is blasting year 3000 by the jonas brothers when you and liv arrive in the basement. there’s already a large group of bodies on the dance floor, but the bar area is still pretty crowded and getting worse. liv links her arm with yours so that you won’t get separated, even though there’s no chance of you getting lost or anything.

the two of you make your way towards the bar where yeonjun is “bartending,” a term he insists on using despite the fact that all he does is pour cups of vibrant red jungle juice. blonde hair hangs over his forehead and his skin is glistening with sweat already, looking weirdly ethereal under the colorful lights that fill the room. when he sets eyes on you and liv, he smiles brightly and leans against the bartop.

“hey, you two! glad you finally showed up!” he shouts over the music. “jungle juice?”

liv nods enthusiastically, mimicking his posture and crossing her arms on top of the counter. “yes please! any chances you have jello shots tonight too?”

the boy looks around before he leans in closer to answer. “don’t tell anyone else, but i made some just for you two since you’re my favorite customers.”

liv rolls her eyes and swats at his bicep, but she’s smiling anyways. “we’re not customers, jun. you’re not even getting paid to do this. when are you gonna stop acting like you’re a real bartender, huh?”

he clenches his hand over his heart and stumbles backwards, feigning pain. “you wound me so, liv. i did something nice for you and this is how you repay me. i can’t believe this!”

but in the midst of his monologue, he bends over to open a mini fridge behind the bar and returns with a couple of jello shots. he tells you to take them here while he gets your drinks and hide them the best you can so nobody gets up in arms that he’s providing something outside of the night’s menu. he’s always been especially nice to you, mostly because of liv and his undying love for her (though platonic or romantic, you’ve never been exactly sure about), so it’s all you can do to thank him and listen to his pleads for secrecy regarding the contraband jello shots. when he’s back above bar, you switch off, him discreetly tossing the small cups in the trash.

liv, finally armed with her precious red solo cup, turns to talk to some other friends, leaving you and yeonjun alone. the music is so loud you can hardly keep your thoughts straight, which is great for keeping your mind off of what liv said earlier, but doesn’t last long when yeonjun leans in ever closer, his cologne enveloping you entirely.

“you should thank heeseung for the jello shots, by the way. i honestly hadn’t even thought to make some for you and liv because i was busy with other stuff, but he asked about making some since he knows they’re your favorite.”

your heart clenches a little at the idea that heeseung wanted to make sure that you had things you liked at his frat’s party. it’s nice to have someone looking out for small things like that, even if it means breaking a rule or two. yeonjun rests his hand on top of your head and pats gently, a knowing look in his eyes.

“listen, i know that you swear up and down the wall that you and him are just friends, but for what it’s worth, he likes you a lot. he just won’t say it. you know him. he’s kinda bad with words. it’s not really my place to make his confession for him, but just… you know. give him a chance.”

you nod dumbly and give him a half-baked smile when he pulls his hand off your head. a few girls walk up, vying for their own drinks, so you take that as your cue to walk away, red solo cup cradled in your hands. any hope of not thinking about heeseung lee has been completely undone by both liv and yeonjun. 

suddenly, you are far too sober.

two hours later, you’re five drinks in, only kept track of by the cups you have in your hand, and you’re feeling pleasantly buzzed. the lights are a little brighter, the music a little louder, liv’s arm hot and grounding around your shoulders. she’s completely gone, despite the fact that she’s only had three cups of jungle juice. she’s serenading you with dancing queen by abba, somehow getting every single word wrong. 

“fuck, i’m way too drunk for this,” she says, breaking off a line in the middle of the second verse. “i’ll sing for you next time. promise.”

you laugh and lean against her, shaking your head. “okay, livvie. sounds good.” you’re content to end your sentence there, but you have an increasing awareness of how hot it’s gotten. the amount of people packed into the basement, especially in the center of the dancefloor like this, has contributed greatly to the heat and you need some time to cool down before it makes you sick. “listen, ‘m gonna get some air. ‘t’s getting really hot.”

liv nods and hugs you to her, voice chipper but slurred heavily. “‘kay! i’ll see you in a few.” she lets you go and breaks out into the next song, somehow worse than dancing queen.

you slip out of the crowd, already feeling a little cooler now that you’ve escaped from the hot press of bodies. standing on the outskirts of the dancefloor, you consider your options. there’s the open window that a cool breeze passes through or the door by yeonjun’s bar, which you know leads directly outside with a staircase up to the back deck. while you initially planned to be within arm’s reach for liv’s sake, your ears are starting to ring from the loud music and the choice is made for you.

you wave to yeonjun as you make your way towards the door. he pauses and leans over to ask you if you’re leaving, looking a little concerned, but you shake your head and tell him what you told liv. and then you tack on the information that she’s incredibly drunk, so he should watch out for her because knowing her, she’ll be tapping out sooner rather than later. he nods in understanding and lets you go, turning back to the two frat guys, jake and chan, that are standing at the bar.

the temperature difference between the basement and outside right now is jarring, but welcomed nonetheless. you carefully traverse the stairs, not quite confident in yourself to take them confidently, seeing as your sight is currently swimming a little and your head is light. getting to the top is a feat and you feel immediately better once you’re on the back deck.

you’re so out of it that you don’t realize you aren’t alone as you lean against the railing, reveling in the way the wood digs into your forearms and the chill bites at you through the sheer long sleeves of your black shirt. you’re still very much buzzed, but you feel a little more clear-headed now that you can hear yourself think.

the sound of your name startles you and you swear you jump ten feet in the air before you whip around, hand against your heart. heeseung is halfway out the back door, a cup in his hand and that deer caught in the headlights expression you’ve come to know well over the last month or so. 

“jesus, heeseung. you scared the shit out of me!” you say, catching your breath and leaning back against the railing.

“i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to!” he finishes stepping out of the house and onto the deck with you, the door swinging shut behind him. he’s so earnest in his apology that you can’t help but smile, dropping your hand and instead taking a sip from your drink that you carried out here with you.

“you have a habit of sneaking up on me, huh?”

he joins you at the railing, leaning against it the way you are, and raises his own cup to his lips (perfect and plush and pink… enough of that). he shrugs as he drinks, wincing when it goes down rougher than he expected. the liquid that sloshes against the side is not the same color as yours, so you can only assume that one of the guys gave him something a little stronger than whatever they threw together for the jungle juice.

“i guess so,” he says through a small cough. “i don’t mean to, if that makes it any better.”

you laugh a little, nudging him with your shoulder. “it’s not a big deal, if that makes you feel better. i think it’s kinda funny.”

heeseung smiles at that and nods, keeping his eyes trained on the drink in his cup. it’s only when you’re committing his side profile to drunken memory that you realize the blush that’s crept up the back of his neck onto his cheeks and the tip of his ears. except, that sober voice inside your head argues it could just be from the cold. 

but neither of you have been out long enough for that to be the case. it’s not even that cold out here, just a little bit chilly. drunk you is having sneaking suspicions, ones that sober you would never entertain, and this is the first time you’re seeing heeseung at one of his frat’s parties, so you might as well take advantage of it all as much as you can.

“yeonjun told me what you did… the jello shots for me and liv, i mean,” you clarify the second you realize how the first sentence sounds without context. “thanks. i didn’t think you were really paying attention to that kind of stuff.”

heeseung turns his head to look at you, eyes a little wide but that soft, perfect smile offsets it nicely. he looks a little surprised that you found out about it, but not upset that yeonjun mentioned it.

“well… i mean, of course i do. that’s kinda… what i do, you know?”

he’s beating around the bush. yeonjun was right; heeseung never talks about his feelings and he sure as hell won’t offer you the words you’re waiting to hear right now. so, drunk you reasons, why is the only way to confess through words? he’s shown you how much he cares, he’s been doing it for weeks now. maybe you were suppressing your own feelings to keep liv off your back about it all, but in doing so, you’ve been diminishing heeseung’s own attempts at telling you. 

this whole thing with him has never been simply friends. love at first sight feels a little much, but you certainly have something between you and you have for weeks on end at this point. maybe it’s time to reward this beautiful boy for being so patient with you.

just as he’s beginning to turn his head away to look back towards the house, you set your cup on the railing and capture his face in your hands. there’s no moment for either of you to process what’s happening, just that one minute there’s a platonic amount of distance between you and the next, your lips are on his and it is warm and unpracticed and still unbelievably perfect. heeseung goes pliant and soft under your touch, his free hand resting gently on the small of your back. his fingers curl gently into your shirt, tethering himself to you. his other hand is still grasping his solo cup and you find yourself wishing he’d just drop the damn thing, even if it means the both of your shoes get soaked in whatever he’d been served (whiskey, you’d guess, from the smokey taste on his tongue).

he’s the first to pull away, eyes still closed for moments after. his breaths come shallow and his cheeks have gone impossibly red, his hand still against your back. you study him from this angle, closer than you’ve ever been, and somehow, you’re finding him prettier than ever before. maybe it’s the alcohol talking or the sudden lovesickness for him, but you don’t care because you finally kissed heeseung lee and left him breathless.

“what- um… what was that for?” he asks quietly, eyes fluttering open. his pupils are blown wide and awestruck (you think that’s the right word in your jungle juice induced haze).

you shrug, inching yourself a little closer towards him. he turns to meet you so your bodies run parallel to each other and finally sets his offending cup on the railing next to yours. “got tired waiting for you t’make a move.”

he makes a sound in the back of his throat and turns his head to look elsewhere, as if looking at you might make him drop dead. any doubt you had from earlier in the night that he’d told yeonjun that he liked you is swept away in a single moment; he can deny it all he wants now, but you already know the truth, so what’s the point?

“liv told me that she heard through the grape vine that you liked me…” you say softly, voice trailing off into the muffled sounds of a kesha song blasting in the basement. “is that… true?”

you watch as he draws a deep breath, squeezes his eyes closed, steels himself for whatever answer he’s about to give. with all your liquid courage now, confessing might not have been a big deal, but you know that if you’d been sober, it would be just as hard as this. but you swear you saw him drinking jungle juice down in the basement an hour and a half ago, and now he’s drinking something stronger, so he must be so naturally shy that not even alcohol can wipe it out.

finally, he lets his breath out and focuses his attention on you again, his eyes soft and pleading. don’t break my heart. please.

“yeah… yeah, i got a little drunk last weekend and told yeonjun that i thought i had feelings for you when he got me back to my dorm. i’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable or if it ruins our friendship. i j–”

you kiss him again, hot and heavy and full of longing and words you don’t dare voice because you’ve liked him for a long time too; you were just too afraid to admit it to yourself. but now he’s spilling his heart out and you’d rather walk barefoot through broken glass before you let him go on thinking for a second longer that his feelings aren’t reciprocated tenfold.

you step impossibly closer, your bodies pressed tight and heavy, the seam unbreakable. heeseung’s hands (both thank god) rest on your waist, holding you close. he bristles under your touch as you leave one hand on his shoulder and the other sneaks around to the nape of his neck, fingers curling into the fine, soft hair there. your nails scratch lightly against his scalp and his chest shudders against yours, some small, refined gasp of approval passing from his mouth to yours as he takes his turn to kiss the breath out of you.

it’s a tiny noise, barely noticeable, barely passing as a soft breathy moan. but you hear it and it’s embarrassingly enough to have your knees going a little weak. well, it’s not just that minuscule noise; it’s everything, it’s the way heeseung’s lips move against your own with an uncharacteristic amount of surety, the way his fingers have slipped under your shimmery black top (a “donation” from liv’s closet last homecoming), the way you can feel his body coming alive under your attention. if this is going where you think it’s going, the dreams you’ve been having about him at least once a week since you first met are about to come true.

heeseung is the first to break away again, but he looks less nervous than the first time. no, this time he looks flushed and tousled and so attractive it should be illegal. when he shifts his weight from his left to right foot, his body brushes against you and the heat of him is unmistakable. even if you couldn’t feel it, you can see the way his eyelids flutter and feel the way his chest shudders against yours. you can’t help yourself; you need him.

“come back to my dorm,” you whisper breathlessly, words manifesting physically in a cloud of fog. “please.”

the boy squeezes his eyes shut again, looks up towards the sky, draws that deep breath he’s so fond of right now. you almost back out, almost say it was a joke; he just confessed his feelings and you kissed twice, so maybe it’s all a little much for him. you really like him and you don’t want to scare him off; besides, what you’re feeling right now is nothing you can’t take care of on your own back in your dorm room. just as you’re about to tell him that he can say no, he’s seemingly talked himself up enough because he looks down at you, smiles, kisses you on his own accord, and then takes your hand.

“lead the way,” he says.

you and heeseung stop at least five times on the way back to your dorm room to makeout, giggling into each other’s mouths as he presses you against a tree on the greens or as you pull him into the pools of darkness between streetlamps. every moment has him growing more confident, more certain that this isn’t just a hookup or a dream.

somewhere along the way, you text liv and tell her that you’re heading home because you’re not feeling well. it’s not farfetched, seeing as you’d broken away from her in the first place because you were feeling too hot. what happened between your departure and when the text is sent is entirely irrelevant right now. what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her and she’ll hear about it sooner rather than later anyways. 

it takes you maybe a full twenty minutes to reach your building, a feat considering how drunk you are and how obsessed you’ve been with heeseung for the last half hour. you fully expected it to take longer, but now, you stand under the golden glow of the entry to your dorm building, heeseung unlocking the door for you because you’re a little too gone right now and unwilling to take your hands off him,standing next to him, your arms hugging his free one while you lean your cheek against his shoulder. he fumbles with the key, muttering about how they should change to a keycard system instead, but he gets it eventually and you’re in.

after that, it’s practically a mad dash up to your dorm room on the third floor. your hand is twined tight around heeseung’s as you lead him up the stairs, too impatient to take the elevator right now. somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re glad that you took the time to clean your room today after class; heeseung will see a polished side of you, one that puts laundry away as soon as they’re out of the dryer, one that has glowing golden fairy lights above the window that gild your room in warmth, one that leaves books and binders stacked neatly in the shelf on your desk. not that he’ll be paying attention to any of it anyways, what with the way you can feel his cock pressing incessantly against you as you unlock your bedroom door, hot and straining.

agonizing seconds stretch into what feels like even more agonizing hours, but eventually, you get the door unlocked and guide him inside, stepping into the glow of your string lights that you’d left on before you left. you don’t even have to turn yourself around to look at him because he does it for you, turning you by your waist, pressing you fast against the back of the now-closed door.

his mouth is on yours in an instant, tongue swiping over your bottom lip, no doubt tasting the fruit punch yeonjun had added to tonight’s jungle juice recipe concoction. his hands are on your waist, curling hot into your skin, black mesh of your shirt scratching against you. it’s nice, how respectful he’s being right now, still ever the gentleman he’s been for the last month, but you don’t want nice and respectful right now. you’ve had literal dreams about this since you met him, driving your attraction to him higher with every one; you want mean and messy and rough, and that’s what you’ll get if it’s the last thing you do.

so in a bid to urge him towards where you’re really hoping this night goes, you grab at one of his wrists and drag his hand up to your chest, pressing his palm against your breast. you can feel his breath hitch against you and you smile into the kiss because how can he still be so shy when he’s kissed the breath out of you at least five times in the last forty-five minutes? either way, he gives a tentative squeeze and it feels mind blowingly good; you’ve never been one to really care much about attention focused on your tits, but heeseung makes it feel like maybe you should.

you get lost in the feeling of his lips on yours, one of his hands kneading at your chest, the other slowly slipping under your top, rough fingertips drawing up and down the skin of your stomach, so far gone that you don’t notice the thigh he’s slotted between your legs until he grinds it up against you. it’s sudden and so well-earned, some much needed friction that you’ve been craving since that second kiss on the deck in lambda rho’s backyard. he does it a second time, the hard plane of his thigh coming up hard against your clit, and your knees buckle a little, dropping you further onto him. you moan sweetly into his mouth, tilting your head back against the door as the hand on your waist works your hips against him with a scary but uncharacteristic practiced certainty. he takes the absence of your mouth against his to trail kisses on your neck, his teeth dragging along the sensitive skin, nipping and leaving love bites in his wake.

a well aimed grind of your hips, guided singularly by the boy in front of you, has you falling forward against his chest, your forehead pressed into the junction between his shoulder and neck. you keen against him in frustration, the crest rising but not breaking, no matter how hard to try to get it to.

“seung,” you cry against his skin, fingers curling tight into his sweater. “need more please.”

you almost sob in relief when you feel him nod against your neck, more so when you notice his own hips are stuttering against your leg that is bracketed by his. it’s enough to make you moan, the idea of him needing it just as much as you that he’s trying to hold himself back from getting off on your thigh too.

pressing your palms flat against his chest, you guide heeseung backwards in the direction of your bed (which you’re very suddenly glad you haven’t lofted). when the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, he makes quick work of kicking his shoes off and then scrambling up so that his back rests against the wall. you follow suit, toeing off your party shoes and crawling onto his lap where he’s waiting patiently, his eyes wide and the browns of his eyes drowned out by his pupils. he’s breathing hard, chest heaving.

he looks up at you as you situate yourself, his hands coming to rest on your waist again. the expression on his face is nothing short of worshipful, like you’re a deity here to wrench your well-earned respect from his hands. and he is clearly ready to hand it over without a single fight. he guides you down onto him and you follow his hands willingly, your thighs straddling his and your clothed cunt just barely grazing against his hard-on until you settle down completely in his lap, not a centimeter of distance between you. the friction and pressure have both of you gasping wordlessly and heeseung tugs desperately at your hips. you fall into him, arms around his neck and pulling him to meet you halfway, lips locked once more. you give a tentative roll of your hips and heeseung moans into your mouth, just the reaction you were anticipating.

“fuck,” he moans the second time you do it. “you’re so good.”

you’re already hot, seared through to the bone, but you feel yourself go even warmer under heeseung’s praise. you’ve imagined this a million times over the last few weeks, but nothing could ever compare to the real thing. you kiss him harder, breathe him in deep to prove to yourself that this is real, that heeseung lee is under you right now, bucking his hips up into you and matching your movements, about to make you come just from a little bit of dry humping. it would be embarrassing if you weren’t both half-gone and ridiculously desperate.

you continue to rut against him, panting hot and heavy into his mouth as he swallows every single moan and whimper you let out just to return them tenfold, his hands working you over him with a rushed ease. every roll of your hips is met with his own presses upwards. he’s working you higher and higher with each move, closer to the precipice, and while you’ve never before thought you’d find yourself in a position like this, if heeseung makes you come without taking a single item of clothing off either of you, then so be it.

as if he’s read your thoughts, he presses you back and away from him. you open your eyes for the first time in minutes and take him in: messy hair, flushed cheeks, bruised lips. no wet dream could have ever prepared you for how beautiful he looks right now.

but no matter how pretty you think he is in this moment, the sudden absence of friction has you whining loudly, pitched high and tight. when you speak, your voice trembles out of frustration. “heeseung, why’d you stop?”

he sucks in a breath and moves to push at your shoulders some more. “don’t- fuck- don’t wanna come yet, not like this.”

if you weren’t already so fucked out, you would have giggled, but right now, you just feel exasperated. he’s right; you don’t want to come like this either, but you’d also come to terms with it because it would mean that you would at least be getting the release you’re so desperately craving. and that’s been ripped away from you, at least for the moment. but when he looks up at you again, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes still wide with need, you fold immediately.

“tell me what you want.” he’s practically begging you and it sends a thrill through you, liquid lightning straight to your heart. “please.”

and how can you deny him when he’s asked you so sweetly or when you’re just as needy as he is? at this point, whatever he’d offer, you would take gladly. he’s gazing at you now, waiting anxiously for an answer, not that you have a set one; you want him in any way he wants you, nothing else matters more than that. but you take in his swollen lips and lithe fingers and your mind is off to the races.

“i-” you start, but stumble over your words. you’d been incredibly forward when you’d kissed him first, but you’ve lost all of that fire now. you can’t bring yourself to ask for what you want, even though you’re certain he’d do anything you’d ask of him.

“c’mon,” he coaxes, fingers kneading into your shoulders to ground you. “whatever you want.”

the sound of his voice is earnest, nothing short of honest, and it makes you want to trust him more than anything. so you do. you draw in a steadying breath and curl your hands into his sweater as you work yourself up to it.

“will you-” another breath. “would you eat me ou-”

“yes,” he immediately answers. you don’t even get a chance to finish the question. “fuck. i thought you’d never ask.”

he moves his hands to cup your face and pulls you into him, kissing you sweetly, his nose bumping against yours. the minuscule break in sexual tension, while in most situations would be a mood killer, is nice because it just further cements that this isn’t some random one night stand; you want to see him every day for the rest of your life after this, if he’ll let you.

somewhere between the kiss and when he breaks away from you, he’s maneuvered you so that you’re laying back against your pillows. you’ve also managed to discard your shirt (thank god, the glitter and mesh combo was starting to irritate your skin something fierce) and he’s working to get your pants off, fingers fumbling with the button; it’s as frustrating as it is adorable and he swats your hands out of the way when you reach down to help him, deadset on doing it himself, which he does manage (eventually, after a few incredibly long moments). you help him shimmy down your jeans and panties by lifting your hips a little and then you are inarguably bare in front of him, a position you’d never imagined you would be in.

and maybe heeseung is a little wonderstruck too because for a few long seconds, he sits there and stares at you in all your naked glory (or nearly naked glory, seeing as you haven’t taken your bra off yet, but he doesn’t seem to mind). you’re starting to get a little bashful and have to nudge him with a bent knee to pull him out of his stupor. he’s impossibly red at the tips of his ears as he murmurs a sweet apology that comes accompanied by a “you’re just so pretty.”

before you can muster a reply, he’s situating himself between your legs, hands pressing softly against your inner thighs to draw them apart, set eyes on his real destination. you lift your head just a little bit, watching as his eyes widen as he takes all of you in, his breath hot against your folds. his fingers curl tight into the soft skin of your thighs and you whimper at the sting, equally painful as it is exhilarating. he makes an indistinguishable groan in the back of his throat before he’s completely devouring you.

plenty of your wet dreams about the boy between your legs right now have included this very scenario: his nose bumping carelessly against your clit, a suddenly confident tongue making a show of licking up all of your arousal, your thighs already trembling. but they never could have prepared you for the actual thing because he’s giving you what is quite possibly the best head you’ve ever had.

heeseung is eating you out like a man starved, it’s absolutely obscene. his tongue works you up fast, every little moan he lets out only contributing. somewhere in the midst, he says something that sounds like “you taste s’good,” but his words are drowned out by your own moans and the sound of his mouth working you over. every pass of his tongue over your folds is as close as you’ve ever gotten to heaven, but you’re lacking something to really shove you over that precipice; and now you know heeseung is so whipped he’ll do anything you ask him to.

“seung,” you gasp out breathlessly, untangling one hand from your comforter so you can wind your fingers into his hair. he looks up at you, doe eyes big and wide and glimmering with his eyebrows drawn together, a questioning look without pulling away to speak. you’re about to ask him when his nose bumps hard against your terribly sensitive clit and your word breaks off before the first syllable can even leave your lips. “fuck— seung, can you— can you add your fingers?”

you’re not quite used to asking for what you want, at least verbally; maybe it’s because any previous partners weren’t keen on getting you to verbalize, maybe it’s because they never particularly cared and just did what they thought was good. but heeseung is pliant and willing to please in any way he can, so you feel less embarrassed this time around because he’s made it entirely clear that your pleasure is his main priority.

he doesn’t nod, doesn’t say anything, just closes his eyes again and goes back to work. you almost think he either didn’t hear you or is straight up ignoring you before you feel it. he pulls his hand from your right thigh slowly, letting his fingertips drag lightly against your skin; the menace is teasing you, where did that come from? but you don’t even have much time to internally complain about him holding out on you because he’s suddenly slipping two fingers into you, long, deft limbs that expertly seek out that spot inside you. he presses against it once, twice, three times, each one drawing out a whine from you.

it’s just what you need, the extra friction pushing you up that incline, closer and closer to the dropoff. when your back arches off the bed and your thighs close around his head, boxing him in against your pussy, heeseung knows he’s got you right where you want to be and then he doesn’t let up. it’s an onslaught of pressure, four different points of sensation, and you’re on the verge of tears. he’s making a complete mess of you, utilizing all he can to get you over that edge. you’re whining his name like it’s the only word you know, “yes” and “fuck” and “oh my god” getting lost in your slurred speech; he’d be evil incarnate if he denied you what you’re so beautifully begging for.

he presses incessantly at that spongy place inside you, nose bumping against your little bundle of nerves, moans growing more frequent, all while his tongue tries to catch every single drop of arousal. and then there you go, ecstasy taking over like liquid heat in your veins. his name sounds like pure euphoria on your tongue, mixed with your moans and whines. he thinks he could come just from this alone, your cum in his mouth and your thighs pressed tight around him, but he holds off because there’s only one place he wants to leave his release (if you’ll let him, that is).

“shit.” 

you sound fucked out, completely gone and heeseung swears he’s never heard anything sexier. you tug at his hair a little bit, feeling completely overstimulated but still so good, a shock to your system as he pulls his fingers out of you and lets his tongue work over you just a little bit longer (to make sure you’re clean, he reasons to himself). 

eventually, he does pull away and you have to fight the urge to whine again. his eyes are unfocused and glossed over, his chin practically dripping in your arousal. hell, his tongue darts out to get the last little bit of your cum at the corner of his lips and you nearly orgasm all over again.

“was it good?” he asks softly and you barely hold yourself back from laughing. he just made you come harder than any previous partner ever has, given you the best head in the world, and he’s asking you if it was good? he’s insane for thinking it was anything short of perfect.

but you don’t say that. you reach for his sweater, fingers curling tight into the cotton and tugging him down towards you. he catches himself by his hands, his arms bracketing you easily, before he completely crashes into you. there’s a long moment where he just stares down at you, lovestruck and pretty, before he lowers himself to kiss you. you can taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, and you moan a little bit, feeling a little embarrassed, but one of his hands moves from its place on the mattress to cradle your cheek and that alone drives it away. 

one of your arms sneaks over his shoulder, your fingers tangling into the damp hair at the nape of his neck, while the other sneaks under his sweater, the shirt he wears underneath until the tips of your fingers brush the soft, pliant skin of his stomach. you can feel the gentle ridges of abs and a small piece of you shivers with giddiness. regardless, you enjoy a few seconds of running your fingers over his stomach before you push a little more incessantly at the offending pieces of material. he takes it for what it is: a plea to get rid of the clothes. after all, it’s not fair that you’re almost entirely undressed and he hasn’t taken a single article off.

you watch dazedly as heeseung sits back onto his heels, your eyes following his arms as he crosses them over himself, grasps at the hems, pulling them over his torso, his arms, his head before they land haphazardly on the floor next to your bed. every inch revealed to you makes your mouth water, his skin taut and soft and glowing in your fairy lights. you can’t help but remind yourself that dreams and an overactive imagination could never live up to the real thing because he’s very much the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen.

you’re entirely prepared to continue your makeout session, but heeseung seems to have other ideas because once his tops are discarded, he begins making work of his jeans. you make a soft noise in the back of your throat when you realize what he’s doing and he looks up at you, fingers stilling at his belt, his eyes wide.

“is something wrong?”

he sounds so sincere, it kind of makes you want to cry. but you shake your head earnestly, propping yourself up on your elbows so you can look at him better. “no, no! everything is fine. i guess i just wasn’t expecting you to take your pants off so soon.”

he quirks an eyebrow at you and dons that pretty little smile of his, teasing but not really. “well, you’re almost completely undressed. figured it was only right that i do the same, y’know?”

and you laugh a little because it’s true and because he’s just so cute, he laughs too, soft and quiet. you generally think sleeping with someone is fun, but you’ve never had as much fun as you are right now. maybe it’s because it’s with heeseung and you like him so much already, so the playfulness comes easy; it doesn’t feel tense the way it has with others.

so you watch him handle his belt, the button on his jeans, the zipper. you watch, mouth watering once more, as he slips out of them, leaving his boxers, which have a dark wet patch on them. the sight alone would make you groan, but you can see the outline of his cock and you almost lose it completely. so you decide to resume the impatient act because you are still very much so; as cute as the playful routine is, you haven’t forgotten the exhilarating rush of trying to get to your dorm as fast as possible and the unpracticed fumbling that’s followed since then.

you reach for him and he doesn’t hesitate, letting you pull him on top of you by his shoulders, fitting your mouths together in a messy kiss, all teeth and tongues. your hands are in his hair again, his own slide underneath you to make work of your bra, unclasping it and then pulling the straps away from your shoulders, down your arms, making you let go of him for a quick few seconds so that he can pull it off completely and toss it god knows where in your room.

you’re distantly aware that you’re entirely bare to him now, but his mouth is working at your throat, dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin of your neck (he is strangely good at distracting you, you’re learning), so you don’t feel as shy as you did just a handful of minutes ago. either way, he’s sucking hickies into your shoulders, your collarbones, any skin that has a little bit of give to it that lets him leave love bites in his wake. so lost in the haze, you realize a little too late that he’s working his way towards your chest, but it doesn’t even matter, not when he has one hand kneading at one and his mouth at the other, tracing lines over your skin to quell the sting of each pinch, each little nip of teeth. your nipples pebble under his attention and while this never usually does much for you, you still find yourself getting antsy because it’s heeseung. everything he’s done for weeks has gotten you worked up, why would that stop now?

it doesn’t help that he’s grinding against you, his hips canting against your own for any semblance of friction. your arousal is no doubt contributing to the wet patch on his boxers and the idea of it almost has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. his cock feels hot and heavy against your folds, the head bumping against your clit, and all of it feels so delicious that you let out a crisp, high whine, twining your fingers into heeseung’s soft hair and tugging gently.

he pulls himself away from your chest and when you look at him, you almost moan. his lips are swollen, slick with spit, and his gaze has gone misty. he looks at you expectantly, blinking slow and lips pouted as he waits. you’re not even sure what you want from him right now, at least nothing specific because you want everything from him. you’re about to tell him to go back to doing what he was originally because it did feel good, but then he lands a particularly well-timed grind against you and you’re gasping.

“fuck,” you whimper, tossing your head back a little. your fingers tighten in his hair and from somewhere south of you, he laughs a little, light and easy and airy.

“that what you want from me?” he questions, pulling himself up over you, catching your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. in any other situation, it might come off as intimidating and teasing, but heeseung is all doe-eyed and halfway to heaven right now, so it comes off more desperate to please than anything. either way, you nod. “all you had to do was ask. you know that.”

you nod and pull him down to kiss you by the fingers you have twisted in his hair. he groans against you, moving his hand from your chin to your jaw, angling you just so. somewhere in the kiss, you murmur a soft, “seung, i want you,” and he groans a little, nodding against you. he pulls away and you chase after him, but he’s sitting up, moving lightning quick to get his boxers off, abandoned somewhere on the linoleum floor with everything else.

and then it hits you that you’re both completely bare. you lean back on your elbows, looking him over once more, though your focus lingers mostly on the skin newly revealed to you. his thighs are toned and sturdy, the skin plush, and while you’d love to stare at them a little bit more, your attention is quickly drawn to his dick. it’s big, the head an agitated red and leaking precum, and your mouth is watering at the thought of getting him in your position and giving him the best head of his life.

you actually start to move to do so, but heeseung anticipates it and moves quick, pressing you back into your mattress. his dark doe eyes are drowning in desire and you shudder under his gaze. he’s on you again instead, hips melded to yours in your nth kiss tonight. he’s got his weight rested on one elbow beside your head while his other arm is free to move around, his hand tracing from your shoulder, your chest, smoothing across your stomach. 

his fingers eventually land on your thigh, curling into the soft inner flesh, and he hikes it up around his waist before dropping his hand to his cock. his lips trail from your lips to your neck and shoulders, nipping at the skin as he jerks himself off. you toss your head back against your pillows, whimpering at every little graze of his teeth against your skin. 

but what’s really driving you crazy is the heat of him against you. the head of his cock bumps against your clit, this time with no fabric barrier separating them, and you’re not sure if heeseung is even meaning for the touch, but it has you feeling hot all over again, slick leaking out of you again. you’re getting impatient, heel pressing hard into his lower back and your fingernails biting into the flesh of his biceps.

“heeseung,” you whine out, canting your hips up against his; you hear him suck in a breath through clenched teeth, a hiss of air. “need you.”

he shivers against you, a teary whimper of “need you too” granted in return as he pulls his face from your neck so that he can watch you as he finally gets to what you’ve wanted since this whole thing started. on a short teasing streak, he taps the head of his cock against your clit and you whine, turning your head into your pillow and curling your fingers into his arms, which earns a laugh.

“stop playing,” you tell him, rolling your hips upwards and into him.

he hisses again and bites at his bottom lip, nodding. he slips from your clit to your entrance and even just the little shred of pressure you get has you wanting to moan out for him. but then he starts pressing in all the way, slipping into your cunt with ease and you are not prepared for just how full you feel. your back arches and he lets off a tempered moan, stifled through a lip bite. when he bottoms out, his hips flush with your own, you release a breath as you adjust to the size of him, which doesn’t take long.

“seung,” you drawl, grabbing his attention. “move please.”

and he does as you bid, pulling out before he thrusts back in. it takes a few moments for him to find a pace that works, but when he does, it’s perfect. his hips roll against yours delectably, the sounds of skin meeting skin and your shared moans filling the small dorm room. he’s shored up over you, one elbow pressed deep into the thin mattress holding him up, and when your eyes aren’t squeezed tight in ecstasy, you watch the way he bites his lip, furrows his eyebrows, shudders as you clench around him.

“god, you’re s’tight. feels so good,” he whimpers at one point, his head hanging over your own as he tries to keep a steady pace. his words are shattered, breaking off in the middle or slurred together, a verbal manifestation of how you physically feel.

one thrust hits that just right spot inside you and you can’t hold but moan loudly, back arching off the mattress and your head pressing into your pillows. heeseung inhales sharply above you as you clench tight around him and then, with you still keening, you feel him sit up, taking his warmth with him. his hands are on your hips seconds later and he’s angling you, doing everything in his power to replicate it again and again.

“fuck, i’ve wanted this for so long,” he says, one hand on your thigh and the other working deft fingers on your clit. he’s a quick learner it seems because all of it is coming together to whisk your orgasm closer, a wave of white heat washing over you. “saw you at my frat’s halloween party ‘nd thought you were so pretty. woulda come up t’you that night if i knew you felt this good.”

your breath hitches more than it has all night and you cant your hips upwards in an attempt to meet his thrusts. somewhere in the midst of your pleasure, you tell him you’re going to come and he nods fast, fingers going into overtime to get you there. that knot inside you winds up tight and then snaps like a rubber band stretched too thin, hot and fast. your pussy locks around his cock and then he’s there above you, bracing himself with his hand, to swallow the particularly sharp whine of his name you let out and any stray too-loud moans that might slip away and wake the neighbors (as if you haven’t already).

when your vision finally clears and your thighs stop trembling, his hips are still snapping into yours to seek his own release, pushing you into the territory of overstimulation, but any pain you have bleeds into pleasure until you can’t tell which is which; the only thoughts you can manage are that heeseung feels heavenly inside you that it’s almost blinding and you don’t know if you even really want him to stop. 

but his hips begin to stutter, his cock twitching against your fluttering walls, and you faintly register that he’s about to pull out of you. blindly, your hand searches for any part of him to pull him back over you, legs locking around his waist. he protests, some flurry of words about how he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable (not a single one intelligible), while you whine and pull him towards you by his shoulder.

“wanna feel you, seung,” you say, a limp arm winding around him and inching him closer until your noses are brushing and you can feel his breath fanning across you, still smelling faintly of his alcohol from earlier. “don’t worry about it, ‘kay? y’said you’d do anything, so please. i wanna feel you s’bad.”

that seems to be enough to egg him on because he nods and you catch him in a messy kiss before he groans against your lips as he finally comes. he lands a few more sharp thrusts that have you whining, fucking his cum into you, before he finally falls still. his breath is hot on your shoulder as he recovers.

usually, once you’re done, your select partner of the night pulls out, maybe cleans you up, and then leaves. it’s been a while since you’ve had someone who wants to stay (at least, you hope heeseung wants to stay) and you’re not quite sure where to go from here. there hadn’t really been much discussion about where your relationship was going to lead after this, even with all of the lingering glances on campus and your impromptu study sessions at the library, so you’re worrying a little about what comes after.

stuck in your own head, you don’t even notice that heeseung has pulled his head from your shoulder and is looking at you until his thumb works your bottom lip out from beneath your teeth and then wipes away some of the sweat at your hairline. the furrow of his eyebrows carve deep lines into the space between them as he studies you, looking like an angel with the way the fairy lights strung up above him give him a faint golden halo.

“what’re you thinking about?” he asks softly, brushing his fingers across your cheek. it’s a wholly different energy than just a few minutes ago, but the change isn’t unwelcome.

you shrug, blinking up at him and reaching to push some of his hair out of his eyes, the strands matted to his forehead with sweat. “just wondering what we do now, i guess.”

heeseung’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles a little, his shoulders shaking with a breathy little laugh. you almost punch at his shoulder for laughing at you when he cranes his head down to kiss you gently, the first that isn’t rushed in some way. he nudges your nose with his when he pulls back just a little bit.

“can we worry about all the big stuff later?” he questions; you feel the words as much as you hear them, his lips barely brushing your own as he says them. “for now, how about we clean up first and then… i’m hungry. are you?”

it’s your turn to laugh, but you nod. you’re still a little drunk, your however many cups of jungle juice compared to his measly one whiskey.

“so we clean up and then go get taco bell? it’s, like, the only fast food place still open at this hour.”

“you do know that the line is gonna be insane, right? like, half of campus goes there after getting drunk.”

heeseung lets another quiet laugh loose and sits up, pulling you up with him and then into his lap, his dick still snug inside you. the feel of it doesn’t wind you up again like you thought it might, but it’s a nice reminder that he’s here, that this all actually happened. he rests a hand on your thigh and lets his thumb trace lines into the skin there absently.

“then i guess we’ll have time to talk about what you wanna do now,” he says sincerely, the smile on his face soft.

you have so many words you want to say, a million sentences tornadoing in your head right now, all jumbled up and lacking any sense of coherency. so instead, you cup his cheeks in your hands and return the kiss from just a few moments ago. he meets you halfway, all soft and pliant and giving, everything you could have dreamed up.

“wanna shower?” you ask when you pull away, giggling when he chases after you for another kiss. “feel like it might be a little more effective than a rag.”

the boy raises an eyebrow and eyes you suspiciously. “you tryin’ to go for a round two? because that’s what it sounds like right now.”

you push at his shoulders and laugh when he catches your wrists in his hands, pulling you into a third kiss. “wasn’t my intention, but i won’t turn down the idea.”

“i’ll think about it,” he responds as he taps at your hips and lifts you off of him. his seed starts to leak out with his cock no longer there to hold it in and you feel incomplete without him, but when he stands and offers you a hand to help you out of bed, suddenly the feeling of emptiness isn’t as oppressive.

you teeter across your room, opening the wardrobe to pull out the two towels you have and your shower caddy. heeseung accepts the towel you extend to him graciously, wrapping it around his waist. when you’re done securing your own towel, he’s already waiting for you by the door, one hand on the knob and the other reaching out towards you once you get close enough to him. and then you’re two people walking down the hall hand in hand, wrapped in matching pink towels towards the unisex bathroom. it’s a little unconventional, maybe, but you don’t think you’d have it any other way.

liv probably would though, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. heeseung’s your little secret after all.

© hoshologies 2023. do not translate, copy, or repost my work on any site.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

*steps on stage nervously*

Uhh.. umm. Uhhhhh

Spidey Academy AU!!

Like Xavier's School for Gifted Children, Miguel - a Spider-person fond of kids, opened a Spidey-Science Academy, for the Spidey-people of the universe

It's not like a high school. There's five years and the years are not really sorted by age - but by experience.

So Hobie would be a year 3 - a middleclass-man

Pavitr is a year 1 - a freshman

And the classes, are all based on honing your Spider-powers and senses.

There's assignments, things you have to take home and do.

They're give you a fake evil Doc Ock chip and have you decode it and make it good again (like Peter in No Way Home).

Or they ask you to stop a petty robbery without using your webs. You have to bring in the Daily Bugles article on you the next day and they grade you on that.

(Hey say what you want but Jonah reports the facts he just talks a lot of shit)

Any class a Spider-person needs, they have.

You name it-

Home Ec? No. Sewing and Suit Repair Class

Gym? No. Swinging & Strength Endurance

Science? ALL ADVANCED. Freshmen's take Advanced Spider-biology and have to learn ALL the different Spider-variations and illnesses Spider-people can get. Multiversal Physics.

All of the honor classes are FULL.

There's also other helpful ones like Firefighting Training and Sign Language (both mandatory), hence how Insomniac!Miles is completely fluent in ASL.

Oh - also. Because Miguel is such a tight-ass -

UNIFORMS. Sweater vests over pants or shorts. (No skirts cause they still be upsidedown and shit)

You have to bring your mask everyday. It's like your ID card

y'all ever had that? Like y'all needed an ID to get into school and if you didn't have it they charged you? Like money? My school did that we also had metal detectors like the airport I'm so deadass this was just a normal public school - I'm getting distracted, anyway-

Of COURSE Ms.Jessica Drew is Assistant Principal. OF COURSE she also teaches Advanced Combat and Strategies class.

And YES she's a hard-ass grader. Has never given a 100% in her life. On some 'This was the best thing I've read in my entire teaching career but you forgot to indent on paragraph 5 so 99%'

She doesn't give a fuck about your GPA!!!

Unlike Mr.Peter B. Parker.

He makes people call him 'Professor PB'. He wants to be the cool teacher.

His classroom is SO FUN during lunch time. Probably runs the anime and manga club. He's that really nerdy teacher that you don't expect to be like "I know what anime is! I grew up on Dragon Ball 😁

His class are always fun but SO chaotic. Still wears sweatpants sometimes. He's the Science teacher.

And every year they take class photos and there's a Spidey homecoming where everyone parties on the walls in cute outfits.

CAN YOU SEE IT?

Swinging Team instead of Track and Field???

CAN YOU IMAGINE IT?

MIGUEL AS PRINCIPAL???

LYLA BEING THE LOUD SPEAKER ANNOUNCER?

[tieronecrush]

hot & heavy

epilogue: our love is going gold

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 17.2k (but she's done. like done, done.)

warnings (**SPOLIERS**): NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is now 10 y/o), nanny au, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, mariposa, etc.), established relationship, engagement, marriage, alcohol, eating, very lovey romantic, polite southern manners, spanish/spanglish cause joel is latino, soft joel, domestic joel, WIFE!! GUY!! JOEL!!, discussion of parenting, step-parenting, struggles with conceiving, negative self talk and image, smut, soft dom joel, fingering, oral (f receiving), joel worships the ground his wife walks on and also her body, praise, unprotected p in v (they're tryna get pregnant, not you!), breeding kink, sort of nursing kink? joel is briefly obsessed with your tits and makes comments, mating press, a flash of cumplay, the BRIEFEST mention of daddy kink, joel really wants to give his wife a baby, pregnancy, a mention of giving birth, girl dad joel, CUTE FAMILY!!!

also this is the song mentioned <3 it's a fave of mine and i think very joel & mari

a/n: this has been a doozy but happy to hand this over to y'all. this is simply what i envisioned for their future, and if you had different thoughts, i would love to hear them! <3 or if you have any headcanons for their life beyond this, drop them in my inbox! this fic and these characters are my children and i love them very much. will probably keep them alive somehow. and thank you to everyone who's read this series, you are all so special to me and have sincerely made me feel so much more confident in my writing!

as always, thank you thank you thank you @northernbluess for beta-ing, couldn't do it without you! and this extremely long ending is dedicated to el and kiwi @kiwisbell you are my hype people fr

i feel like i need to say like signing off on h&h now lol so this is me doing that & closing the book!

** this is set over three additional summers post-main story **

first of many

After the holidays, it was an easy decision to move in with Joel and Sarah. The Millers had joined your family for their annual, lowkey celebrations; spending Christmas Eve with Joel and Sarah, it was a treat to witness him playing Santa after Sarah had gone to bed. Only a few curses under his breath putting together the new dollhouse she’d requested from St Nick, the other presents from her father, and your gifts to her carefully wrapped under the tree. The two of you split the plate of cookies while watching A Christmas Story, you and Joel taking turns mumbling the words to the iconic scenes under your breaths.

The next morning, your heart was overwhelmed with the love that you hold for this family that has welcomed you in and made you a part of it. Sarah gifted you a photo frame that she’d made at school, painted with flowers and butterflies, and a photo of the three of you from the trip to the apple orchard you’d taken that fall. Once Sarah was occupied with her new treasures, gifts were exchanged between you and Joel. Requesting to gift first, you stand up from the couch and tiptoe around Sarah and her new dolls sprawled across the floor to the front hall closet and retrieve a brand new, custom acoustic guitar. 

Sitting back with him, guitar placed into his hands and his eyes combing over it, his lips part with a gasping breath when he notices in the inlay of ‘SME’ for his daughter’s name, Sarah Elena.

“The old one in the corner of your room was lookin’ a little worse for wear, and I hadn’t seen you play it in a while…” you trail off in the silence, waiting for his response, “Do you—do you like it? Is it the right kind? I tried to match it the best I could to the one upstairs.”

“Oh, Mari baby, I love it. It’s beautiful, thank you so much…” He shakes his head, taking another sighing exhale in appreciation as he turns it in his hands. “Hadn’t played the other one 'cause it wasn’t quite playable anymore. Restrung it a few too many times, the wood was warped from some water damage. The perils of having a toddler around years ago. This is…it’s perfect, Mariposa.”

You beam, shifting in your seat and anxiously fiddling with your fingers. Joel sets the instrument down next to him carefully, turning back to you. He leans in, kissing you delicately and whispering another ‘thank you’ against your lips, “Guess m’gonna have to serenade you now.”

“Oh, yeah, J. I expect one nightly,” you playfully respond, kissing him again before he pulls away, his turn to stand from his place on the couch. 

He wanders over to the tree, plucking the last wrapped gift from under it, and returning to sit next to you. Handing over the small rectangular box, you unwrap it gingerly, glancing at Joel’s knee bouncing. You gently set your hand on it, smiling at him which he returns, biting his lip to channel his jittery energy. Opening the box, you’re met with the shining gold links of a beautiful charm bracelet. Your eyes wander over the small icons, feeling your chest tighten with love as you take them all in: A small ‘S’ with a ruby-colored stone at each end of the curve, a matching ‘J’ with a sapphire embedded into it right next to the ‘S; there’s a tiny gold key, nearly identical to the one he had given to you those three summers before for your job that started it all; a tiny set of longhorn antlers that is reminiscent of home; a lighthouse that reminds you of one you visited while living in Boston, a day you had documented and sent Joel some of the photos in the mail to recap your time. It was a day you had been happy there, and it made your heart ache that he remembered that. The last charm on the bracelet is a butterfly, bejeweled with kelly green stones, the color of the leaves that you told him were your favorite years ago. The ache in your chest is worked out of its knot with Joel’s hand at your back, a gasping breath as you blink back tears.

Clearing your throat, your watery smile has a flash of worry crossing his eyes before you hand him the bracelet you’ve taken out of the box, lightly requesting, “Will you put it on for me?”

Joel nods shyly, taking the dainty piece in his hands, and hooking the clasp around your wrist after a few tries. You both admire it, your smile growing wider and his matching yours.

“Merry Christmas, Mari baby. I love you.”

“Merry Christmas, J. I love you, too.”

Now, months later, the bracelet on your wrist glints in the sun as you hold onto Sarah’s hand, letting her lead you around the atrium filled with butterflies. Spending the day at the same farm you three had visited summers ago, and had kept up with the tradition with the summers following, you picked an abundance of strawberries, wandered through the nature paths, and now ending the day at the youngest Miller’s favorite spot.

Sarah wildly points out the different types of butterflies, the encyclopedia book of the insect’s species that you had gifted her for Christmas coming in handy for today as she reads the small signs of each patterned, winged creature, adding in her tidbits that she remembers. A grin stays plastered on your face as you listen intently, paying no mind to Joel trailing behind the two of you.

Giving your lessons on the flora that you know of in the gardens, Sarah listens to you as well. Stopping in front of the small waterfall, surrounded by tropical plants and flowers, the two of you go back and forth in fun facts about plants and butterflies, unaware as Joel saddles up behind you. Sarah glances back over her shoulder and grins, the expression reading as knowing and mischievous. Before turning around, you start to warn Joel behind you playfully, “J, if you’re even thinking about pushing me or splashing me, I will ki—”

Your breath catches when you finally face him, eyes dropping to meet his; the backpack he’d be adamant about carrying all day is at his feet, unzipped, and in his hands is a small, forest-green velvet box. Joel rests on one knee, a soft but bright, devoted smile on his face.

“Oh my god…” It comes from your lips as a whisper, your free hand reaching up to cover your mouth while the other continues to tether you to Sarah at your side, her small giggle hitting your ears as Joel glances at her, sending her a wink.

Eyes back on your face, Joel clears his throat, adjusting himself on his knee as he takes a deep breath, “I have been trying to figure out exactly what to say, and I can’t seem to find quite the right words that tell you exactly how I feel about you. I love you, so much, Mariposa. The second you entered my life, that time I saw you for only seconds in your backyard while I was touring the house, I knew I had to meet you. And then the first time I met you, well, I knew that you were who I needed.

“I’ve been walking around blind, trying to figure out life for years, and moving next door to you, that was the last piece falling into place. You have made my life, and Sarah’s life, a million times better. And while these past few years haven’t been picture-perfect for us, we made it through, and I know that we can take on anything that comes our way. Eres el alma más hermosa que he conocido, y soy muy afortunada de tenerte. (You are the most beautiful soul I have ever met, and I am so lucky to have you.) I’ve been waiting for years to do this, Mari baby, and I can’t have any more summers pass by without you being mine. Tú eres mi media naranja. (You’re my soulmate.) I love you. Te amo, Mari. You’re my soulmate, sweet girl, and I can’t take another day without the promise of forever. Will you marry me, Mariposa?”

Without hesitation, you nod your head frantically, your tears that started falling as soon as Joel started speaking continue to flow. You uncover your mouth, squeezing Sarah’s hand and sharing a smile with her before she takes her hand away.

“Yes, oh my gosh, Joel…of course, of course, I’ll marry you. I love you so much, J.” You squat down in front of him, left hand trembling as you hold it out for him. He carefully takes the ring from the box, and Sarah, ever the helper, takes it from the spot where it rests on his knee for safekeeping. The delicate gold band slips onto your finger, embellished with clusters of tiny gems and centered with an emerald cut diamond. It’s perfectly you, and you can’t wipe the smile off your face as you watch Joel settle the piece of jewelry on your finger. Both of you take a deep breath, admiring the sight before your eyes find each other’s again, matching expressions of complete admiration. Your hands find his cheeks, pulling him in for a tenderly passionate kiss, attempting to breathe all the love in your chest into the kiss and his heart. Joel pulls away first, resting his forehead against yours for a quiet moment.

“Thank you, J,” you whisper, and his head tilts with curiosity.

“For what, baby? I think I should be thankin’ you for sayin’ yes to me.” He chuckles and rubs his thumb at the back of your hand, skimming next to the band of the new addition.

“Everything. For not giving up. Your patience when I was still finding my way back to you. How effortlessly you’ve welcomed me into your life and your family…” Cheating your body away, one hand reaches out to pull Sarah into the small huddle, reuniting the moment within your unit of three, “I just—I can’t wait for all my summers to be spent with you both.”

“I can’t wait either. This is gonna be the first of many, Mari baby.”

And the two of you really couldn’t wait.

Only a week after Joel was down on one knee, your family was throwing you an engagement party. Tommy, a few of Joel’s close friends from his contracting company, your college friends, and neighbors were all in attendance to celebrate the two of you, and it was a big to-do. Drinks flowing, music playing, and food was being passed around. Everything under the warmth of a Texas night and the strung lights across the stretch of your parents’ backyard. Joel was glued to your side the entire night, hand on your back or clasped in yours, grabbing your refills and whispering in your ear to make you laugh.

“So…are all of these people coming to the wedding? ‘Cause I can count about half that I have no idea who they are.”

To that, you whispered back, “I don’t know them either, so definitely not. Unless they wanna buy us the most expensive thing on the registry.” Joel laughed, squeezing you closer — if it were even possible — and pressing a kiss to your temple.

Later, once you two were far past tipsy, Joel mumbled against your ear, barely able to get the words out without drunkenly giggling himself, “D’you think Mrs. Clarke is thinkin’ m’the one that got away?”

You couldn’t contain your laughter, bursting out in the middle of the conversation happening around you two, quickly covering your mouth as the lingering hiccups escape, “I think she’s singin’ the blues about you, Miller.”

The rest of the evening was filled with small moments between the two of you; never left alone long enough to have a full conversation on your own. Whispers of love and affection breathed out, fleeting kisses exchanged. It wasn’t until the party was over, everyone dwindled out the door and back to their homes, that you and Joel took a beat to speak to each other in more than one sentence. The early hours of the morning had crept in without anyone quite noticing, and Sarah was knocked out, brought inside to sleep in your old bedroom around 10pm when she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. Joel now held her in his arms, her head laying on his shoulder while the three of you walked the short distance home. After your quiet goodnight to Sarah that went unheard by her sleeping self, Joel put her down, taking off her shoes and leaving her undisturbed to sleep in her clothes.

Back in the ensuite of your, now, shared bedroom, you’re lazily getting ready for bed, movements slower and lagging from the alcohol you consumed. Joel stands behind you, facing your reflection in the mirror and giving you a smile as the exhaustion catches up to him.

“You have fun tonight, sweet girl?” His vocal cords rub together in a fry, hands finding their place on your waist and drawing you back into his chest. Littering kisses at the back of your neck, he hums contently before you affectionately shoo him off to brush his teeth while you apply your skincare.

“‘Course I did, J. Spent most of the night with you, how could I not have fun?” You grin at him from in front of your side of the double sinks, gently rubbing in your moisturizer. “Have you given any thought as to when you wanna set a date for?”

Whatever he responds is muffled by the foamy toothpaste, your face twisting in confusion before he leans over and spits out, rinsing his mouth and toothbrush. Standing back up, he rests his hip against the countertop while facing you, shrugging as he smirks slightly, “As soon as possible. Baby, I’d get married to ya in a garbage dump if it meant we could get married right this second. No puedo esperar para hacerte mi esposa. (Can’t wait to make you my wife.) And I know you don’t want that, and I want to make you happy, so whenever you want, Mari. Lo que sea que desees, lo haré realidad. (Whatever you wish for, I’ll make a reality.) But I will say, summer’s kind of our thing.”

A gentle smile stretches across your lips as you step closer, hands coming to rest on his chest and massaging your fingers gently into the muscles there, “Well, how about we do this summer? I mean, I don’t want anything fancy, just something special for us. Thought maybe we could do it here, in our backyard and my parents’. Where we met and fell in love and broke up and fell in love again and—”

“I love that idea, sweetheart. Think it’s perfect for us…” Joel punctuates his work by stealing a kiss, mint and strawberry lip balm melting on his tongue when he deepens it only for a few seconds, “Think we can manage for Labor Day weekend, mi amor?”

Nodding confidently, your hands skate up to his shoulders, pulling him down for another kiss, “I believe we just set our wedding date, Miller.”

“Damn right, we did, Miller.”

A whirlwind of planning and three months later, you now stand in your childhood bedroom on the second floor of your parent’s house, admiring yourself in the full-length mirror standing in the corner. Your mom had helped you with your hair, a small gold barette holding one side away from your face; your makeup was fairly minimal, fresh, and bright, but nothing too heavy that would melt in the heat that has graced Austin this weekend.

On your wrist is your charm bracelet from Joel, a simple gold locket to match that your father had gifted you the evening before at the rehearsal dinner — it has belonged to his grandmother, and now your grandma wanted you to have it since she couldn’t make the trip down due to her age. It was your ‘something old’ he said, playing into the old traditions that seemed to charm your entire family. 

Your ‘something borrowed’ was a pair of white strappy sandals from your mom, ones that she had worn to her rehearsal dinner when she married your dad. The title of ‘something new’ belonged to the charm hanging off of your wrist that was hand-delivered to you this morning from Tommy, per the request of Joel since you both were getting ready in opposite houses. The gift box unveiled a gold lotus flower, hand painted with deep magenta petals. Inside the lid of the box was a folded note, the words written by your soon-to-be husband in his usual scrawl.

Mi amor,

Got to reading one of your books you leave around about plants, and they were talking about the lotus flower. Made me think of you — since they go back to the murky water each evening and open their blooms at the break of day. You always start fresh, sweet girl, you’re so resilient and strong and pure of heart. No matter what happens, you get through it. And you won’t have to go at it alone, baby. I’m gonna be right there with you through anything.

You make me a better man.

Te amo, mi media naranja.

J

You had to touch up your makeup after having read the note over and over for minutes straight, now fresh faced and eager to get downstairs. One last time in the mirror, you give yourself the once over, smoothing the long, full skirt of your linen dress. The ruched empire bodice lays across your chest, framing your neck with a square shape along with the cap sleeves. Simple, but it feels perfectly you. And now, you were finally on your way to get your something blue: Joel in his navy suit, waiting at the end of the aisle for you.

Everyone’s gathered in their seats, only a crowd of around forty people from your lives occupying the rows, all carefully selected to make the cut. It was easy for Joel, he had three people he wanted there for sure, and well, his daughter didn’t have a choice living right next door, plus with her dad being the groom, and you being the bride. The only chance of a wild card he had was Tommy, but he was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning despite the many shots he had the night prior. At the rehearsal dinner of all places.

Dressed and gaffed, he stands at the end of the short aisle after having walked down it hand-in-hand with Sarah, who was donning a lilac dress she picked out with your help and her hair in her natural, bouncy curls. She now sits next to Tommy in the front row, whose new girlfriend Maria is sitting on the other side of him, stealing peeks over the back of the seat to try to catch a glimpse of you at the top of the deck stairs. Joel is doing the same, eyes flickering from scanning over the crowd to tunneling at the opening of the stairs. 

Music starts and it immediately tunes out of his ears, a tingle of excitement radiating from his chest throughout his body. A vision in white, you appear at the stairs with your arm linked to your dad, Mark; he isn’t paying attention to anything but you, captivated by your beauty. His heartbeat kicks up when you walk down, reaching the end of the grassy path between rows of chairs, and stopping for a moment. With the bouquet in one hand, you use the other that was resting on your dad’s arm to give him a short wave that he returns with a grin.

Each step you take brings up tears in his eyes, an overwhelming joy clenching around his heart. A few drop down his cheeks, using one of his thumbs to wipe away the streaks as you give him a gentle smile, speeding up your walk and dragging your dad along with you. The guests laugh at the eagerness, Joel rocking on the balls of his feet as he bites back his wild grin when you finally reach him. Exchanging hugs with your dad, Mark shakes Joel’s hand before clapping him on the back, a sure nod directed to him.

His hand slips into yours naturally, helping you with the last few steps to stand in front of him, exhaling a deep breath. A smile that he can’t wipe off stretches across his face, looking into your eyes as he lifts a hand to wipe his cheeks. You do the same, delicate touch against his skin while your gaze stays trained on his. Beating out of his chest, his heart thumps deeply, the wings of his butterfly fluttering madly in his gut in time with his heartbeat.

“Hey, Mari.”

“Hi, J.”

Everyone settles back in their seats, and your brother stands at the makeshift altar, a carved arbor handmade by Joel over the last few months frames the three of you in front of your guests. You turn to hand off the wildflower bouquet you put together to Sarah, eager to fulfill her responsibility of holding it during the ceremony. She grins, whispering to you loud enough for him to hear when she takes the arrangement.

“You look so pretty, Posey. I’m excited for you to marry Daddy.” Your hand reaches for her curls, squatting down in your dress to address her at eye level, unconditional love shining in your eyes as you look at his daughter.

“You look beautiful, Sare Bear. I’m so excited, too.” Other words are exchanged only between the two of you, a hug shared before Sarah retreats to her chair next to Tommy and you stand up and take Joel’s hands.

Chris ambles through an introduction, recollecting his version of events, as well as both of your sides, for how your relationship has progressed. Humor was laced throughout, laughter bubbling over throughout the crowd of guests, and especially between the two of you when you shared knowing expressions.

The ceremony moves quickly, with no religious elements to extend the length, simply secular. Before he knows it, Chris is reaching the vows, allowing a moment for Tommy to present the rings to each of you, clapping a hand on his brother’s back.

“Don’t fuck this one up, brother. Posey’s a good ‘un. Way too good for you—”

Joel cuts him off with a mumble and an eye roll, “I know all of this, Tommy, but thank you for the reminder.”

Chris directs Joel to go first, a deep inhale and extended exhale fills the air as you give his hands a reassuring squeeze. He flashes a smile at you before he drops one of your hands, finishing in his inside jacket pocket for the small slip of paper.

“I tried to memorize this, but we both know that wasn’t gonna happen…” he huffs out a nervous chuckle, reading over the page before his eyes come back to you, a patient and gentle grin on your face, “I genuinely hope you know how much I love you. I try to show you, to tell you, to make you feel it through osmosis every day, but I truly hope you can feel it. Through all that we have been through together and on our own, I have always had you in my mind. I thought about you every day you were away, and all I was hoping for was your happiness. I cannot tell you what it means that you have found your happiness with me, but I will be thanking whatever forces are out there for bringing us back together. Our roads may have been bumpy, and they may be in the future, but I’m so thankful to have you in my passenger seat. Cause we both know you don’t like to drive.” Joel winks and the crowd of guests laugh.

“I never want to let go. And I’m never going to let you go, Mariposa, I’m in it for the long run.  Eres todo para mí. (You are everything to me.) You are everything I have ever asked for, hoped for, didn't think I deserved. You are…un alma tan pura (such a pure soul) and I don't know how you ended up with me, but I'm countin’ my luck every second of every day. I love you through anything, mi Mariposa, and I cannot wait for our future together, as a family. I’m so happy that you have found a place you belong with Sarah and me, and I feel so lucky that you have chosen me. Te amo, mi Mariposa. Siempre.”

Recovering from your tears, you choke out a small sob that tugs on his heartstrings, tightening his grip on your hand while his brow furrows softly in concern.

“Happy tears, I promise, J. Very happy tears.” Another sob comes with a burst of laughter, a hand of yours fanning your face. Joel reaches up, wiping away the stragglers, careful to not smudge any of your mascara. With a deep breath, you focus back, centered, offering Joel your left hand. He repeats the phrase from Chris, who recites it from his printed-out online ordainment course before slipping the simple matching gold band onto your finger above your engagement ring, ears ringing when he sees the symbol of his love and commitment on your finger, where it will stay for the rest of his time on this Earth.

Next, it was your turn to recite your vows, Chris pulled a piece of paper from his jacket and handed it to you. A giggle slips from your lips, wavering the small folded sheet, “Couldn’t memorize it either. Got too much to say…”

Joel relaxes in his stance, thumb circling the back of your palm as he listens, the butterfly wings fluttering into his chest and up to his head, love overwhelming his nervous system across his body. You clear your throat, looking up from the wrinkled white sheet, “I didn’t know that one summer spent at home would completely send me on a whole new life path, but looking back, I am eternally grateful that I wanted to mooch off my parents for as long as possible. That first summer, I fell hard and fast, and despite the obstacles, my love continued to root deeper inside of me and grow out new branches with every memory we made together. I am so lucky to have been welcomed so easily into the Miller household, and I cannot imagine my life with you or Sarah there right next to me. You both have brought so much into my life and thanks to you, J, I feel like I have truly found myself. 

“I was always searching for what I was meant to do, who I was meant to be, and what I would leave behind in my life. And while I went out searching everywhere, the answer was my next-door neighbor. I am meant to be your person, I was meant to care and love and create a life with you, and your wonderful daughter, and I know I will leave behind all my love for you and our family behind. My success does not need to be measured by the reach of my impact, but by how deeply I love you. That is all that matters to me, to make you feel loved and supported and to know how incredible you are. You mean the world to me, and I love Sarah as if she were my own; both of you are my best friends and I could not do this life without you. I am so excited to spend the rest of my days, and the rest of my summers with you, J. I love you. Forever.”

The same routine goes for you, slipping a gold band around Joel’s left ring finger. He flexes with the new accessory on his hand, admiring it before he looks at you, a wide and wild grin crossing his face as he listens as Chris starts to ask him that very special question, “Joel, do you ta—”

“Absolutely I do. No question.”

Laughter rises from the attendees, and you, playfully roll your eyes. Chris nods shortly, chuckling as he turns to address you with the same question. He states your name, inquiring, “Do you ta—”

“Of course, I do. Only been waitin’ years for this to happen.” 

Joel laughs, shaking his head as he mumbles a sweet agreement, “You and me both, baby.”

Chris drops the papers he was reading from next to him on the grass, clasping his hands together, “Well, that made it damn easy for me. With the power vested in me by apparently the state of Texas, but who really knows, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Now y’all can kiss finally.”

A hand presses against the small of your back, pulling you into his chest as he folds down, latching your lips to his in a deep kiss, all of his love pouring into the moment. It takes restraint to not take it further in front of everyone, your intoxicating taste drawing him in and quenching a perpetual thirst he has. You lean back first, fingertips digging into his shoulders to hold him off as you whisper, “Gotta keep some decorum until tonight, Mr. Miller.”

“Hard to do that with you, Mrs. Miller,” he rasps back, matching blindingly bright grins across your faces as you right yourself, turning to face your guests as your brother loudly announces.

“For the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Miller!”

With the low-key, intimate wedding that you both had planned together, there was no real formal separation of the ceremony and reception. Instead, everyone wandered over to the backyard of Joel’s home, which was now yours, too. There were rented tables set up with chairs around, no seating chart, and a checkered dance floor set up in the middle of the lawn. Lights have been strung from his deck to the tree at the back of the property line that holds Sarah’s tire swing, some lanterns strewn about to add more light as the sun sets in the later evening. 

The family-favorite restaurant in the city that the three of you have frequented, even as friends, catered the meal, and your parents, ever so prepared, had stocked up all summer with booze. Your dad plays pretend bartender, getting your now-husband behind the tablecloth-covered folding table and pouring heavy drinks and somehow heavier shots. By sundown, everyone was liquored up enough to cheer for you both to have a first dance, chanting their request over and over.

Joel looks at you from his spot next to you, eyebrows raising in question. His hand at your back draws you closer, starting to sway to whatever song is playing as he grins with a looseness to him, relieved to have you as his for good and relaxed from the alcohol in his blood. “C’mon, Mari baby, I wanna dance with you. M’wife. I got the perfect song.”

“Okay, okay, you go tell Chris what song you want and see if he’s got it on his iPod.” 

You push Joel along, giggling to yourself as he shuffles over to Chris, the makeshift DJ for the evening. Joel leans in, talking in your brother’s ear over the music currently playing. They exchange a smile and nod, Joel laying a hand on his shoulder and shaking it affectionately. His beer gets abandoned on the nearest surface, giddily running over to you and taking your hand. Impatiently, he pulls you to the center of the dance floor, and Tommy intercepts your drink before it sloshes all over the front of you, huffing out a disbelieving breath as you continue to drag behind Joel.

Your husband turns you in his arms, one hand finding your back as the other lifts your joined ones toward his shoulder, elbows bent. Everyone else clears the dancefloor as an upbeat guitar riff sounds out of the speakers surrounding the dancefloor, the bright drums kicking in as Joel starts to shuffle the two of you around the dancefloor, a swing to your movements again.

The familiar lyrics of Orleans’ Still the One that Joel has sung to you many times over the last year are recited right back to you, making you reminisce about the time you were driving in the car to pick up Sarah from camp, a rare afternoon that both of you had off together. The song had come onto Joel’s favorite classic rock station, perking him up in his seat as he turned the volume dial up.

“Oh, Mari baby, this is such a great song.”

Not as familiar with it, you listen, giggling as he sings along with his words pointed at you, and you had to admit, they were pretty sickly sweet. Ever since then, Joel got into the habit of singing it to you, learning to play it after he received his new guitar from you at Christmas.

Dancing with him now, under the sticky heat of the tail end of Texan summer, surrounded by family and friends, he makes you feel as if it’s only the two of you again like it was for every other moment before with this same song.

In your ear, he sings along only for you, pulling away and twirling you as y’all take over the entire dancefloor with how free and loose you’re playing it. “You’re still the one that makes me laugh…still the one that’s my better half…we’re still havin’ fun and you’re still the one.”

At the next chorus, you join him in singing along, laughing at his excitement, both of you singing along louder. The song reaches the guitar solo, and Joel takes both of your hands, swinging you out from his chest before pulling you back in; he spins you to cross your arms in front of you, and your back to his chest before twirling you out. On the last line, when the final word is dragged out, he wraps his arms around you, spinning both of you around until the final chord strikes, setting you down and chests heaving to catch your breaths. Wide smiles still find your open mouths, cheers and whistles from the guests gathered around the dancefloor, now filling the checkered floor as the next song plays.

Breathless, Joel grins madly, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly before asking, “Think we did pretty damn good for unplanned, don’t you, Miller?”

“Damn right, we did, Miller.”

The rest of the evening was all the same, a night spent with your closest family and friends all celebrating the two of you and your love. Both you and Joel shared a dance with Sarah separately, relishing in her unbridled joy and Joel comforted his daughter when she shed a few tears about how happy she was. Your dad pulled you for a short jaunt around the dancefloor, and Joel asked your mom for a dance, which she accepted happily as a stand-in for his mom.

More drinks flowed into glasses and out of bottles, your shoes kicked off and Joel’s jacket and tie discarded onto the back of a chair somewhere. Your cheeks ached from how much you were smiling and laughing the whole time, a weight lifted, the promise of forever with your favorite person now on its way to being a reality.

You both ceremoniously cut the small single-tiered cake that your mom ordered, serving the slice on a plate. Grabbing a piece with your hands, you cheers it with Joel’s, watching as his went into his mouth and laughing as yours went across his cheek. He feigned shock, shaking his head as he looked at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes, taking a step closer. A turn on the ball of your foot directs you in an attempt to get away; failing miserably, misstepping from your level of drunkenness, Joel catches you in his arms. Turning you back around to face him, he steals a purposefully sloppy kiss, buttercream smearing against your lips and chin, the taste of vanilla coating your tongue as it melts into the taste of Joel, whiskey, beer, and sugary sweetness from the dessert.

At the very end of the night, most guests in cabs home or retreat to their homes down the street, it’s left to your closest people. The last song of the night is announced by Chris, the same song that has come up again and again for the two of you trilling over the speakers. Everyone dances and sings along to American Pie, the perfect cyclical moment for the two of you, and the closing moment of your summer. Sarah dances with the two of you, laughing as Joel twirls her around, infectious smiles on their faces. 

Your heart grows in your chest, nearly to the point of bursting as you take a step back in your mind, taking in all of the moment as it surrounds you. In the backyard of your new house, the next chapter of your life starts with Joel and Sarah; right next door is your childhood home, full of love and memories with your parents and brother. Even through the hardships, these places and people have never stopped feeling like home.

The song finishes with a flourish, Joel tucking you into his chest after he scoops Sarah into his arms with a soft groan. Sarah lays her head on her dad drowsily and he presses a kiss to her forehead, mirroring the same on yours; a mumble against your skin is barely heard by you, his drawl exaggerated by the liquor, “Mi Mariposa y mariposita. My lil’ Bug. Love my girls so much.”

Tommy slides sleepy Sarah into his arms from Joel after you two say goodnight to her, the younger Miller brother already prepared the arrangement for her to stay at his on the night of your wedding. You reassure her the promise to meet at Waffle House in the morning, which will likely be the afternoon with the state of the adults. Maria, the designated driver, and Tommy, much closer to sober than drunk than you were expecting, send another congratulations your way before they’re off to the car with Sarah.

After the necessary sweep of cleaning is done between you two and your immediate family, food, drink, and lanterns gathered, they part ways, taking everything back to theirs to deal with in the morning along with striking down the tables, chairs, and dancefloor. In the quiet of the early morning hours, you and Joel stand with your arms around each other, swaying gently. Cheek to chest, Joel’s voice rasps from overuse, vibrating your ear pressed against him, “Was it what you wanted, sweet girl?”

“Everything and more, J. I loved it,” you say as you pull your head away, tilting your chin to look into his eyes, “And I love you, m’husband.”

“I love you more, m’wife.” He shakes his head, biting a smile back, “Don’t think m’ever gonna get tired of callin’ you that, Mari.”

“Me neither. Gonna be callin’ you my husband instead of usin’ your name,” you flirt as your smirk grows and he wiggles his eyebrows, hand drifting down to the curve of your ass.

“Guess we better test that theory, baby.” He grins as he bends his knees, lifting you over his shoulder. His other hand rests on your ass to balance you, your hands pressing against his lower back as you shriek slightly from the initial shock. “Want the whole neighborhood to know m’your husband now. Even if they weren’t invited, so you better be loud, m’gorgeous wife.”

He walks you both up the stairs and through the backdoor, your snort echoing in the quiet of the night, pulling out the ol’ faithful from the early days with him, “Yes, sir.”

second nature

“What do you think about getting a dog?” you ask from your seat on the bed, propped up against the headboard with a book in your lap. Joel pops his head out from the en-suite, brow quirked as he continues to towel off his hair and laugh softly.

“Can’t say I’ve thought about it, darlin’.” He disappears again, hanging his towel on the back of the door before coming back out of the bathroom with a clean pair of boxers on, washed up from his long day on-site. “Have you been thinking about getting a dog?”

A sheepish grin stretches across your face, shrugging your shoulders as Joel gets into bed. He matches your position, leaning back against the headboard and turning his head toward you. He’s intrigued. If he wasn’t, he’d tell you that you could talk about it more in the morning, and then he would give you his honest opinion in the light of day. Never wanting to start a silly argument before bed, always attempting to keep the peace.

Which made him great at compromising. To what you wanted in the first place.

“I’ve been thinking it would be nice for Sarah. Like something to learn responsibility — teaching her to feed it on schedule and take it for walks and fill the water bowl.”

“Yeah, it’ll teach her that I’ll take on all those responsibilities when she gets bored of it,” your husband snorts at his own comment, making you roll your eyes playfully and scoot closer.

“Oh, c’mon, J. Don’t you think it would be fun to have a dog around? We wouldn’t even need to get a puppy if you think it’s too much. But I work at home nannying baby Amelia so I’d be around all day and then when Sarah gets home from school or camp, she can take him or her for a walk. And then feed it before you even get home. Oh! Or you could take the dog to work with you! How cute would that be, you could train him to grab your tools for you.” 

A contagious smile brightens your face in the low lamplight, one that Joel can’t help but mirror on his own face. The eagerness is evident in your expression and your voice, and the proposition doesn’t seem like it would be too difficult of an adjustment. Shaking his head at your suggestions, he laughs quietly while reaching a hair up to smooth your hair away from your face.

“Are you gonna be the one to teach it what all the different screwdrivers are?” 

An excited gasp exhales and you scramble to straddle Joel’s lap, “Wait, are you serious? You’re actually okay with getting a dog?”

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you lean back to look at his face. His hands find the curve where your thighs melt into your ass, squeezing gently. Always handsy.

“Yeah, baby, we can get a dog.” Joel groans dramatically when you pull yourself tight against him, hugging him while on hand rubs back and forth at the base of your spine. “I’ve got some conditions though.”

Unraveling from his neck, you stay perched in his lap, nodding fervently. “Anything. Whatever you want, if it means we get a dog.”

“Oh, anything?” he teases with another squeeze of your bum, laughing when you shoot him a look.

“Not what I meant, Miller. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Can’t help it with you, sweet girl. My mind’s always in the gutter around you.” The sentiment is punctuation with a tender kiss to your lips and one to your forehead. Calloused palms skate along your bare thighs, humming contently, “Conditions are: has to be a big dog. Don’t want one of those little white dogs or like something that’ll break if we have babies and they’re a little rough with it.”

The forethought he has for your future children warms your heart, and you agree immediately, “Deal. Didn’t want a little dog anyways. What else?”

“Gotta fence in the backyard. I don’t mind putting in a gate for us and your parents to easily go back and forth through, but I don’t want the chance of the dog gettin’ out when we’re all outside.”

“Totally understandable. I’ll even help you install the fence,” you offer proudly.

“That’s real sweet, Mari baby, thank you. You don’t gotta lift a finger though, I’ll bring some of the guys over and pay a little extra and we’ll get it done in a day, no problem.”

“Alright, so big dog, fence. Anything else you’d like to negotiate, Mr. Miller?” you mock a formal tone, turning your nose up. Joel laughs, tightening his arms around your waist and tugging you closer. Kisses press into your neck and along your jaw, pausing inches away from your lips as he makes his final request.

“Dog sleeps in Sarah’s room or downstairs. I like our privacy.” He smirks before kissing you deeply, easily flipping you onto your back and hovering above you. Your legs hook around his waist and he raises his eyebrows, “That all sound fair to you, Mariposa?”

“Absolutely it does. Guess we’re getting a dog, ri—” You’re cut off by his lips on yours again, pressing you further into the mattress with his body weight.

“Let’s save the rest of this for the morning,” Joel mumbles against your skin as he trails his mouth down your neck to your collarbone, “‘Cause right now, I think I’d rather get some pussy.”

He doubles over in laughter at his own joke, forehead pressing against your chest as his shoulders heave. Your fingers comb into his hair, unable to fight quiet chuckles of your own no matter how hard you try to not give him the satisfaction.

“God, you’re such a dork.”

The clock rolls to 3pm as you sit in your car, lined up along with parents of campers. Shrills of laughter and screams echo from the bright, primary-colored playground across the way, counselors attempting to corral the kids to lead them out for pick-up. Air conditioning blasts on you as you fan at the back of your neck, exhaling in the sweltering Texan heat. It’s only the beginning of summer, June barely having turned over, but the temperatures have reached record highs for the year already.

Your stepdaughter. The thought still makes you smile months on, the dynamic between the two of you falling naturally into a closer, more nurturing relationship. Little acknowledgments from Sarah have made your heart sing over the days; routinely saying goodnight to you along with Joel, asking you for permission to go play outside, seeking you out nearly as much as Joel when she has had a nightmare. The pair of you have built routines of your own before bed, you making a promise to Sarah to read with her and to show her your favorite books from when you were her age.

A few nights ago, Sarah had retreated with you to her room, at least thirty minutes before her bedtime to get in another chapter of Matilda by Roald Dahl. The main character reminded you of Sarah’s sweet and spunky personality, and you were so excited that she fell in love with the story and its characters as quickly as you did when you read it for the first time.

Sat up against her headboard, Sarah laid back in your arms and cracked open the novel where her bookmark stuck out, started to read aloud to you in the low lamplight. Mindlessly, you played with her hair as you listened to her confidently recite the words from the page. The day caught up to you, the peaceful moment pulled a yawn from your lungs. Sarah’s words slowed down, her eyes slowly blinking until they closed, which was your queue to slip the book from her hands and mark the spot, and laid it on her nightstand.

When you tried to slip out from behind her to leave her to sleep soundly, she stirred, mumbling the sweetest, “Will you stay for a little bit, Posey?”

And you had no choice but to oblige her request. After getting comfortable next to her, Sarah curled into your side and you pressed a kiss to her forehead, continued to play with her hair to soothe her back to sleep.

What you hadn’t realized was that you also drifted off in her twin bed with her, the lamp still on. Joel was watching TV downstairs, waiting for you to retreat down the steps as you do every night, but no sign of you after an hour had him standing up to go searching. It was quiet when he reached the top of the stairs, no telling giggles or loud whispers to give the two of you away. 

He pushed open the cracked door of Sarah’s bedroom, and was met with a sight that squeezed his heart tight, a sigh exhaled from his lungs. You tucked right next to his little one, and both slept deeply. Without disturbing your rest, he tiptoed over to the nightstand, tugged the blanket up over both of you before he hovered above the bed to press a gentle kiss to each of your foreheads. 

Lamp clicked off, he whispered to your unconscious ears, “G’night, girls. Love you two.”

It was a few hours before your usual alarm when you’d woken up, sore from the small space and glanced around the dark room to discover you had fallen asleep next to Sarah. Carefully slipped out from the covers, you tucked her back in and padded down the hall to your bedroom where Joel was sleeping, a soft snore came from him as he’d starfished out on the mattress. You gently shook him half awake to move him, and he groaned softly at the disruption before he tugged you into his chest and pressed a drowsy kiss to your shoulder.

“Was jus’ too cute to wake you up, Mari baby. My Mariposa and my lil’ Bug…” He hummed sleepily into your skin, hand gently rubbed circles in your lower belly while your eyes close, desperate for those last few hours of slumber. “Makes me so happy.”

“Me too, J. M’so, so happy she’s that comfortable with me. My baby best friend. And you’re my big baby best friend…” You breathed out an airy giggle and Joel protested weakly behind you, a gentle pinch to your side before you both exchanged a quick “love you” and drifted right back off.

The reminder of the sweet moment in the morning from Joel was the highlight of your week.

Climbing out of the car, the engine running and door open, you round the front bumper and stand on the curb to wait. You find her before she finds you, calling out to her to grab her attention, “Hey, sweet pea!”

Her familiar deep brown irises search for the source of your voice, landing on your face and waving excitedly. Sarah checks out with her counselor for the day, scurrying over to you with her backpack bouncing at her shoulders.

“Hi, Posey!”

She collides with your torso, her growth spurts finally starting over the last few months so the top of her head hits just at your chest, and nearly knocks the wind out of you. Patting her back, you laugh and pull her back to look her in the face, “Well, hello to you too, Sare Bear. How was camp today? You ready to go?”

After your greetings, she climbs into the backseat on the opposite side of Amelia’s car seat. You store her bag in the passenger seat with yours before retreating around to the driver’s side, heading off once both of you are secured in your seatbelts.

Flicking your eyes up in the rearview mirror, the two of you catch up, which mostly consists of her recapping the camp activities and excitedly talking about the pool day that’s planned for Friday. As you turn onto your street, Sarah’s brow furrows at the sight of Joel’s truck in the driveway.

“Dad’s home already? That’s weird.”

“Hm, I guess he is. Or maybe he’s just stopped by to grab something he forgot. You know how he is.”

Sarah laughs in agreement as you park your car next to his truck. Both of you get out and head in through the garage, straight into the kitchen where Joel’s standing at the counter eating a sandwich.

“Told you, Sare, stopped by ‘cause he forgot something. Lunch.” You send him a teasing grin as you deposit Sarah’s bag by the door and kick off your sandals. She does the same before wandering past her dad to the fridge in search of a snack. Apple doesn’t fall far.

“What? I can’t happen to drop in hoping to see my wife and my daughter in the middle of my work day? Do I have to have ulterior motives?” Joel speaks, words muffling around the bite in his mouth as you approach the island to stand opposite him.

“Dad, you literally always ask ‘What’s for dinner?’ or ‘What’s cookin’?’ after you say hi to us every day. Your motivation is always to get some food,” Sarah chimes in from in front of the fridge, laughing when Joel looks at her offended.

“See? Even a ten year old recognizes the pattern of behavior,” you confirm your findings, laughing as Joel grumbles to himself and pops the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth.

“Well, for your information, both of you, I am here for an entirely different reason than lunch and to see you two.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest, looking between the two of you with a mischievous smile on his face. “Why don’t y’all go look in the living room and then tell me if you wanna keep makin’ fun of Dad?”

Sarah excitedly starts off toward the living room, giddy about the surprise awaiting her. Your brow furrows and lips twist up in curiosity, eyes staying glued to Joel. He laughs and nods to the other room, a bright smile on his face.

“Better go see, mi amor. Think you’ll want to meet him.” Joel winks, your attention being pulled away when you both hear Sarah gasp from the living room.

“Oh my gosh! Posey, come here! Aw!”

That’s when it registers — the surprise, home in the middle of the day, the smirk, ‘you’ll want to meet him’.

“You didn’t,” you breathe out, head snapping back to Joel as he gives you a wide, genuine grin.

“Go! See for yourself.” He rounds the island and grabs your hips from behind, guiding your steps into the living room. Sarah’s giggles fill the room as the fluffy Bernese Mountain puppy stands in her lap and licks at her face. The small dog’s attention is pulled from her and over to you and Joel entering the room, a tiny bark sounding before he scampers over.

“Joel, oh my god, how did you—when—oh my god…” You kneel down to scoop up the little one into your arms and cuddle it gently, giving it pets before letting him run around again.

“Found someone who had a litter with their family dogs the day after we talked about it. And arranged to pick him up. They said he’s the energetic one, and that he’s gonna be a big boy. Like a hundred pounds.”

“Oh my god, he’s so sweet…thank you, J.” You beam up at him, waving him to bend down and steal a kiss, squeezing his shoulder.

Sarah’s playing with your new family dog, tugging with a rope toy as he fights back with his whole little body. “Thank you, Dad. He’s so cute!”

“What should we name him?” Joel asks as he lowers himself to the floor next to you, smiling as the puppy runs over. The two rough house, Joel easily flipping him over to scratch at his belly as the dog pants happily.

“Any ideas, Sare?” you ask, looking over at her.

She thinks for a moment before looking up between Joel and you, laughing at the tiny pup’s antics, “What about Goose? He just seems like one. Like a silly goose.”

“Goose? I like it, Bug,” Joel confirms, turning to you with a grin, “How about you, Mari?”

Nodding, you look at the new addition to the family, burning bright with happiness at your people’s excitement, “I think Goose is a perfect fit. And now you’re not outnumbered anymore, J. Two girls and two boys in the Miller household.”

Sarah laughs and lays down to cuddle with Goose while Joel moves closer to your side, wrapping an arm around you and kissing your head as he quietly whispers, “Hopefully won’t be too long before the boys are outnumbered again.”

“And what makes you say it won’t be us girls being outnumbered?”

“Call it father’s intuition. Wouldn’t know what to do with a little boy, bein’ a dad to another girl would just be second nature. Plus, I would want a mini Mari running around the world.” Joel presses a kiss to your temple before you turn your head, catching his pursed lips with yours sweetly.

“I’d take anything if it means havin’ a little piece of you forever, J.”

third time lucky

Negative.

A single line, bold and brash, stares back at you. Turning the plastic in your hands, you attempt to read it at different angles, the smallest bit of hope lingering for another line to appear — that it was a trick of the light that was causing your disappointment.

To no avail, the blue strip remains unaccompanied in the small window. A sinking feeling fills your body from your toes up. Everything feels heavier, except your lower stomach. That has never felt as empty as it is now.

Heavy footsteps thump a vibration in the floors, but your focus remains on a speck of dust floating in the light past your field of vision. His presence hangs in the bedroom, milling about, unknowing of what you were up to before he came in from mowing the lawn.

“Hey, baby, m’gonna take a shower and then we’ve got Sarah’s softball game at three. Probably half to leave here around two, her coach asked all the parents to be thirty minutes early for some reason…” Joel’s voice fades in your head as your thoughts start to yell, scream, fight, taunt inside of your mind.

A hard swallow pops your ears, the ringing in them growing louder as your mind begins to wander. The test is left discarded on the bathroom counter, with no heart yet to throw it in the garbage where the others have ended up. Your bare feet shuffle against the rug as you seek out solace under covers, even in the ninety-plus-degree heat. The springs of the mattress shift under your weight, lying on your side facing the opposite side of the bed that lays empty right now. The coverlet is pulled up over you, curling your fingers at the hem tightly, white knuckle grip to release some of the tension that has taken over your mind. You want to scream, cry, yell, question — but what you want most of all is to be able.

Why aren’t you able? Why can’t you do what your body is made to do, what it begs for, what it reminds you that you’ve failed at every month?

Joel stands in observation of you, careful distance, one hand lifting before he drops it. He can guess what this is about. What you’ve left behind in the en-suite. But to confirm his suspicions, he quietly walks into the tiled room, leaving his clean clothes on the counter while he picks up the test.

Negative.

His body sinks, toes up to his head, but with a gaping, empty feeling in his chest. There’s so much room left in his heart, room he is eager to fill with another part of you, another love, another soul to protect. Now, though, all of his emptiness is filled with an ache for you. You’ve been dreaming out loud for a year now, wonderings and visions shared with him late nights and early mornings — Will they have his eyes? You hope so, so that they look like their sister. Who’s ears would they have? What quirks will they pick up from both of you? Who will they grow up to be? How will we be able to contain our love for both of our kids?

Our kids. Joel remembers that night; after you said that, he couldn’t hold himself back, couldn’t contain his love for you. No hesitation that his own was yours now, too. All he wanted was to give you another, to see your belly grow and your smile brighten and your skin glow. He was begging for whatever power was in the universe for that time to take, for both of you to be gifted with what you wished for so often, so deeply.

Desperation. Wavering confidence. Sorrow, worry, dwindling hope. He saw it all over you, time after time when the single line appeared on the plastic sticks.

You and Joel had been trying for a year. A long year. Maybe your desire was too strong, too overpowering. But shouldn’t that be a sign of your love? For each other, for your family? All he wants to do is give you the life you’ve wished for. And yes, all you’ve said you want is a life with him, but anyone who meets you would be able to tell you are meant for a nurturing life. Meant for motherhood.

It was already natural for you, taking a ten-year-old in stride, making her into your best friend — making her a priority over Joel most of the time. He knew it didn’t matter to you that she wasn’t yours, biologically speaking, but he can’t help but want to give you a child that is part you. How badly he wants another piece of you in the world, all of your goodness packaged into the purest soul.

Resigning with a sigh, he sets the test down on the cool countertop and exits the bathroom, a slow stride over to your lying form. Crumpled under covers. With a soft groan, he lowers himself to his knees with cracks popping his joints. His age is starting to show the closer he gets to forty and the more hours he works in the summer weather, another looming factor for him — he’s only known being a young dad. If you two have to wait, what would it be like to be nearly sixty when your kid graduates high school?

Shaking the superficial concerns from his head, his wide palm glides along the quilted fabric draped over your side. He rests his chin on his opposite arm, laying against the mattress close to your pillow. At the coax of his touch, you turn over to face him. Lips pursed in a frown, dried watery streaks being washed anew with your fresh tears, fat and rolling down your cheeks and over the bridge of your nose. They drip off of your skin, dotting and darkening the fabric of the pillowcase underneath you.

Joel leans in, brushing your hair from your face and pressing his lips to your forehead for a lingering kiss. A deep breath draws the smell of your shampoo into his nose, down deep into his lungs where it soothes his aching chest.

“Mari, sweet girl, I know it’s hard. I know we want it so bad, but there’s always another option,” he speaks softly, kindly, delicately, “We can go to that fertility specialist your doctor recommended. I promise, mi amor, we’ll have a baby together.”

He means it, and you can tell he means it. Ever since you had been back together, ever since he confessed his feelings for you — years ago now — he hasn’t made an empty promise. From tiny little things like a pledge to stop on the way home for your favorite ice cream, going to three different stores and adding nearly an hour to his day simply to show up with it for you, to larger, grander oaths, his wedding vows, the promise of building a beautiful life with you.

Emotion is thick in your throat as you attempt to vocalize your concerns. They keep you up at night, with Joel’s warm and expansive hand resting on your stomach right above your womb as he sleeps soundly. He wants it clearly as much as you do; you can feel it each time you’ve tried. How badly he wants to provide this for you.

Is he having the same thoughts as you? Does he wonder if something’s ‘wrong’ with you?

“I wanna be able to do it. Why can’t I do it on my own?” The sound of your meek voice shatters his heart and he shakes his head back and forth, adamant in shutting down the thoughts.

Tugging the covers down, Joel’s hands find your exposed skin, sliding across with a clammy touch from his labor outside. And nerves, too, you’d guess. Moving from his knees on the floor next to the bed, he finds a spot sitting at your side and shifts you to lay on your back. Opening up to him. Warmth rests over your womb, blanket pulled down to the tops of your thighs while his thumb brushes at your stomach, catching on the fabric of your shirt.

“No—oh, mi Mariposa, you don’t even know if it would be you with an issue. Very well could be me. Maybe breathin’ all the paint fumes at work killed m’little swimmers.” He breathes a small laugh through his nose, attempting to lighten the mood.

Your hands fly up to your face, muffling your voice, “Oh, god, don’t say that. I wanna have your baby, not some sperm donors.”

His hand coasts up your torso, over to your side to wrap around your rib cage, feeling your breaths as his fingertips lightly tickle the spot, “That was supposed to make you laugh, sweet girl.” 

Hands falling away from your face, your brow pinches together and your frown deepens. About to make a retort, your mouth open, Joel skates the fingertips of both his hands up and down your sides, alternated on each side of you to make it harder to catch his wrists. Laughter bubbles up from your chest, your frown morphing into a flashing smile before you’re calling for a surrender in between gasping breaths.

Relenting, his hands stop, settling at the curve of your waist. He leans over you, nudging his nose against yours before pressing a ghosting kiss to your lips. A small grin, hopeful and reassuring, with a tinge of worry flickering in his irises, barely there before his smile reaches his eyes, “It’ll happen for us, Mari baby. Why don’t we say, one last go before lookin’ into the doctors? We’ll do all the things, track whatever we need to track. I’ll drop whatever I need to come home and put a baby in you.”

Joel wiggles his eyebrows, playful smirk crossing his expression. You roll your eyes under him, pushing an accusing finger into his chest, “Like you don’t already do that. I could call you in the middle of work and just go ‘Hey, J’ and you’re in the truck on your way home.”

“That’s right, Mari. As it should be. Y’know what they say — happy wife, happy life.” Another kiss to your lips, this one a bit more savoring. “What d’ya say, mi amor? One more go?”

“Okay, yeah. One more go.”

Butterflies kick up in your stomach when you hear the low rumble of Joel’s truck cut, heavy door swinging closed and quick strides following. The front door opens after a short jingle of keys, shutting behind him with the slide of the lock back into place. Distant grumbles of his make you laugh, his frustrations with his work boots floating upstairs to where you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, leaning back on your hands. Clad in only your bra and panties, you work your bottom lip between your teeth as anticipation builds with each of Joel’s footsteps up the carpeted stairs.

You both only have the afternoon — less than an hour of your afternoon, actually — to make your last attempt. Already having taken advantage of the window in your cycle twice, the peak day of your ovulation fell, of course, during the busiest time of year for Miller Construction. Summer has come to a close, and now people have picked up their home improvements to start nesting for the winter; a craving you’ve been having yourself, desperate to make your home larger and livelier by one more. Joel has snuck away for a moment that you two have alone, and you’ve told the couple you nanny for that you have an immovable appointment for today.

Pretty sure the only thing that will be immovable today will be you once Joel’s hour is up.

 “Mari? Mi amor?” he calls out and you chuckle softly at the boyish excitement in his voice.

“In the bedroom, J!”

Joel rounds the doorway into your shared room, stopping a handful of steps past the threshold when he registers the sight of you. He hums a low moan, licking his lips as his eyes devour your lacy undergarments, “Mierda, mi esposa, estás tratando de matarme? (Shit, my wife, are you trying to kill me?) You look so fucking beautiful, darlin’.”

A low whistle leaves his lips as he stalks closer, eyes rake over your form as you present your primped self for his taking.

“You get all pretty for me, sweet girl? I like this…” he rasps as he’s within arm’s reach now, stretching a hand out to toy with the strap of your bra and snapping it against your skin sharply.

“Wanted to look pretty when you fill me up, J.” One curl of his finger under your chin draws you to sit up straight, tilting your head back to look at Joel towering over you.

“Good girl,” he praises, a glint of excitement in his eyes, “You want me to fill up your sweet little cunt, Mariposa? Want me to give you a baby? Tell me.”

“Yes,” you breathe out shakily, eyelids fluttering closed as his hands trail lightly across your exposed skin, ghosting everywhere you need him most.

“More, sweetheart. Dime. Dime cuánto lo deseas. Suplicar por ello. (Tell me. Tell me how badly you want it. Beg for it.)” His instructions float through your head, only keywords translating in while Joel leaves over you, lips pressing feather-light kisses along your neck, across your chest.

“I need it, Joel. Need you so fucking bad, I wanna have your baby. Want you to make me a mom, fill me up as many times as it takes until we get our baby…please, J…” As if the taste of you wasn’t enough to do him in, the wild, fervent look in your eyes intrigues him beyond. Hearing the words from your lips, directed to him, he’s fucking aching. He was growing hard on his way over here, the thoughts swimming through his mind of you laid out and ready for him to take delegating his blood supply to rush down below his belt.

He needs you, but first, he needs to see you unraveling underneath him only from his fingers.

“Don’t worry your pretty little mind, Mari. M’gonna take care of you. I’ll make sure this one takes. Let’s call it third time lucky this summer.” 

He shoots you a wink, your mouth parting to respond. Before you can let any breath escape, his lips are crashing with yours. Heavy, heady, and so fucking hot it spirals your thoughts into nothing. His tongue melts with yours, the taste of his black coffee and the donut he must have eaten at work this morning tingling your taste buds. Sweat sticks to his skin when your hands rest at the sides of his neck, falling backwards as he climbs over you. He smells of wood shavings, freshly mowed grass, and hard work — calloused hands gliding along your body and feeling the softest of scratches of his blue collar hands.

“Joel, need you — please.” It’s more of a whine than a begging whimper, rising frustration levels from his lack of touch in the place you need and want him the most. 

Your cunt is desperate, dripping down your folds and surely soaking the sheets. A quick jerk of your hips attempts to brush against him, to catch any relief for the need building low in your stomach. A large palm presses your lower half back against the mattress, the other hand pushing your leg to the side to open you up further for him. A knuckle brushes your clit, grazing up and down your seam through your soaked panties. Your husband clicks his tongue as he shakes his head at you, patronizing tone slick in his voice.

“Darlin’, I wanna take every second of my time with you. Are you gonna let me? Gonna let me get your cunt squeezing my fingers? Gonna let me fill you up, mi amor?” he asks, as if you wouldn’t say yes to all of those requests and he knows it. Nodding, a desperate yes exhaled when he applies more pressure with his finger against your clit, rubbing slow circles. “Good girl. Siempre tan bueno para mí. (Always so good for me.)”

Joel folds over your, taking one of your perked nipples into his mouth through your bra and sucking. His tongue flattens against the cup before he’s pulling at the nub with his teeth. The material is darkened where his mouth was when he grows a bit more needy, grabbing at the straps and yanking the bra to rest at your midsection. You slip your arms out of the straps and he pushes you further onto the bed by the back of your thighs, stripping your panties off and settling on his knees.

Pressure forms against your clit from two of his fingers, slow circles dragging a moan from your throat. Joel smirks, satisfied with the way you squirm under him, trying and failing to get more from his hands. Before you can vocalize a whine, Joel is over you again, bringing his attention to your now bare breast while the circles continue. Hot, humid kisses are littered on the soft skin, happy hums rolling from Joel’s chest. He pulls his head up, looking down at your chest with a half grin and his dimple on display.

“You’re gonna get so soft and swollen everywhere, Mariposa. Round belly, huge tits—can’t wait to play with ‘em.” His grin widens, boyish and brazen with the glee that the fact fills him with. “You gonna let me, baby? Gonna let me make your sore tits feel better with my mouth?”

His question goes unanswered as his mouth attaches to one of your nipples, sucking and flattening his tongue as he nurses it. Pulling away with a pop, he mimics the same on the other side, the intensity of his suckling along with his fingers rubbing faster against your clit — even slipping down to tease at your entrance — has you wiggling under him, desperation notching up your spine.

“Joel, please,” you plead, choking on your breath when he pulls the bud of your breast between his teeth, a low growling sound rumbling from his throat. 

Two of his thick fingers push into your dripping cunt, a relieved moan echoing against the walls of the bedroom. Curling up into your spongy walls, they thrust quickly and pet at the certain spot inside of you. Joel’s mouth is still at your chest, his hunger feeding itself on the taste of your skin.

“Fuck, Mari, gonna break my fucking fingers off. So fucking tight.”

A distraught whimper crawls from your chest, breaths heaving as your walls clench around his quick-paced fingers. You gasp when he slips a third one in, hooking them up. Despite the stretch, you still feel an emptiness. All you want is his cock inside of you, spilling into you and leaving you to grow fuller with his baby. The thoughts of him above you, fucking it all deeper into you to reach your womb, drive you over the edge. The tips of his fingers press against that spot inside of you, his warm mouth hanging open at your tit while his eyes watch you come undone. Writhing and walls pulsing around his fingers, his name falls from your mouth as you choke out moans and your vision grows dark.

“That’s it, Mari baby, fuck,” Joel works you through the orgasm before his fingers leave you and he sits back on his haunches. Sucking his digits clean of your slick and come, the other hand rubs your thigh gently before he coos down at you, “That was a big one, wasn’t it? Feel good?”

Still coming down from it all, your body feels liquidity, taking whatever form Joel is molding you into right now after he’s stripped himself bare. One hand slips under you, unclasping your bra and tugging it away from your torso, leaving you as naked as him. His eyes drink in your body while his grip holds your calves, chuckling darkly when you finally breathe out a response, “I feel…like I need you to put a baby in me.”

“Cualquier cosa para usted, mi esposa. Vas a estar tan lleno de mí. Te encanta la sensación de mi mecos dentro de ti, ¿verdad? (Anything for you, my wife. You're going to be so full of me. You love the feeling of my cum inside of you, don't you?)” Your head rolls with a nod, agreeing to anything Joel says in the moment, still hazy from how hard he’d made you come moments ago. Half-lidded eyes watch as he licks his fingers, stroking his cock a few times with a quiet sigh. That’s something you could watch all day — Joel’s pleasure. And here underneath him, you have the perfect view, and the perfect position to be used for it.

Fully handing over control to him, his hands tug you up so your ass sits on his thighs while he’s on his knees. Fingertips skate along the distance of your legs, grabbing at your calves to rest them on his broad shoulders. Even the slightest shift forward from his hips stretches you wide, a delicious ache creating a craving for more.

“Tell me how bad you want it, Mari, tell me how much you wanna have my baby.”

Joel’s gripping his length, rubbing his tip through your wet folds. The notches against your clit quiver the already stretched muscles in your thighs, whines replacing words coming out of your mouth.

“Tell me, or I won’t give you what you want, mi amor.”

“I want it so bad, J. I wanna feel you fuck me so full of you, and I don’t want that feeling to leave. I feel like there’s an emptiness and only you can fill it, I want your baby. Wanna have everyone know how good I am for you, carrying your baby like you want me to. I wanna have a part of you forever,” you gasp out the last word, Joel’s cock inching into you. Muscle memory takes over, your whole body relaxing with the knowledge that he’ll take care of you — he’ll always take care of you.

Joel bottoms out easily, filling you to the hilt before he pauses to take a breath. His eyes meet yours and he smiles, sweet and sincere, while holding your shins, “I fucking love you, mi Mariposa. Wanna give you a baby…”

“Pleasepleaseplease—” You don’t know if you’re begging more for him to give you what you want or to move his hips, but in the end, you get both. 

Joel starts out slow, shallow thrusts keeping him inside of you. Grunts from the controlled movements fill the room, your small whimpers following each noise he makes. The sound of him fucking into your cunt captures his attention, gaze zeroed in on where you two meet. Watching the stretch of your tight pussy around his cock, he feels the burning desire for more. To watch you take it deeper, harder.

The next snap of his hips is just that - smacking his skin against your ass before he adjusts, laying you back completely on the mattress and leaning over you. Your legs are still hooked over his shoulders, the burning of your muscles now straining your hamstrings and glutes. His entire body folds you, his head hovering over yours as he fucks into you further. The tip of his cock kisses your womb, the force of his thrusts driving your hips open more for him.

“Gonna — fuck — gonna make you a momma, Mariposa. That what you want? Get fucked so well, be so full of me that we make a baby? Everybody’s gonna know I treat my wife right. With your round belly…swollen—ah—swollen tits. Gonna be so beautiful, and so fucking sensitive everywhere.”

His words only add onto the feeling of his thick cock filling you up, nearly verging on too far and too much. Moans exhale on your lips, his name repeated like a chant with each harsh snap of him into you. Your hands scramble for purchase as his sheer power drives you up the mattress, sheets scratching against your bare back. One set of fingers dig into the meaty flesh of his shoulder, nails pressing crescent shapes like an iron-hot branding.

Above you, Joel studies how your mouth has fallen open, thoughts completely left your mind with how cockdrunk you are. He gingerly grips your chin, holding it to face him and commanding your eyes to his as he pants heavily.

“What d’you wanna make me, baby?” It’s only met with the sounds of his cock dragging in and out of you, the slap of skin as you gasp under him. “C’mon, Mari baby, use your words.”

“A daddy,” you breathe out, your opposite hand combing into his messy curls and gripping tight.

“Say it again. Dime.” Not thinking it was possible, Joel pushes you further, hitting into you harder with each thrust nudging his tip toward your cervix. You might only leave this afternoon with soreness, but you continued to hold out hope for a baby to be the well-worth prize for how you’re going to feel tomorrow.

“A daddy!”

“Dime. Dime. Dime,” he commands and you listen, writhing under him as he hacks away at your shared resolve, throwing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Daddy — oh, fuck, a daddy. Wanna make you a daddy!” You’re yelling at this point, sobs of pleasure wracking your body and you thank god for a split second that the two of you are home alone in the middle of the work day. Surely the whole block might be hearing all of your wanton sounds.

“God, I could get used to you calling me that, Mari baby,” Joel groans and throws his head back, bearing his teeth as he punches his hips into your clenching pussy, the telltale sign that you’re close.

“C’mon, mi amor, give it to me. Come for me and I’ll let your fucking pussy milk me for every last drop. That’s what you want, right? Gotta fill you up and make a baby for my Mari baby.” He’s rambling as you reach your peak, toes curling and coming even harder than your first one this afternoon. 

A near scream pulls itself from as deep as your gut, the sound as if you were in more pain than the absolute pleasure you feel. Your grip on his hair tightens, drawing him down for a messy kiss as you mumble against his lips.

“Please gimme a baby, J. Need it all inside of me, please. Come for me, mi esposo.” 

The name sends goosebumps across his shoulders and trickles down his spine before he’s barking your name once and spilling into you, painting your walls with each rope. He takes a moment to breathe before he gently presses his hips in a few short thrusts, fucking his spend as far into you as possible.

Joel collapses against your torso, no other efforts exerted to move away. Delicate, nimble touches brush the hair from his sweaty forehead, rubbing his shoulders as he hums contently.

“Fuck, baby, might just have to stay inside. Keep you plugged up so I can stay here all day with you.” Quiet, breathless laughter leaves your lips as you shake your head, tracing along his jaw before he turns his head to press his lips into your tummy.

“Can’t wait for you to be a momma. Gonna be the best one ever, y’already are. Love you so much.”

The two of you lay like that for what feels like hours, only to be reminded of Joel’s limited schedule when his cell starts ringing from downstairs. Getting up with a groan, he slips out of you and lifts your hips, stuffing a pillow or two underneath them to keep your lower half elevated. You roll your eyes at the superstitious gesture, gasping when his fingers push into you once more to put his leaking come back into where it belongs.

“Gotta make sure it takes, pretty girl. Wanna see you get all round with my baby in you. Everybody’ll know how good I am to you, huh? Pumping you full of me so much we made a new fucking life…better stay like this until I get home again, Mari baby. Wanna make sure those lil swimmers get all the help they can get.”

“Mm…” you hum, hands grabbing for him to lean over you again. Sneaking a kiss, you pull away to whisper to him with a grin on your lips, “Better get back to work…daddy.”

He snorts out a laugh, beaming a bright smile as mischief glimmers in his eyes, “Mal. Mala chica. (Bad. Bad girl.)”

Three days late. You’ve been tracking your cycle like a mad woman, ticking off days in the notebook next to your bed, and now you’re officially three days late. Joel and you had agreed to wait a few days after you expected your period, hopeful that the extra time meant a more accurate, and desired, result.

The kitchen timer sitting on Joel’s side of the bed ticks away while you side on the edge of the bed. Tapping your fingers against your thighs, bare skin against your fingertips from the high hem of your denim shorts. Joel paces the room, eyes focused a thousand yards ahead. Anxiety and anticipation had been plaguing both of you all day, work slugging by minute by minute, second by second. Joel had left the jobsite as soon as was acceptable, leaving Tommy to wrap up, and swung by the pharmacy to pick up a new box of tests. Your task for the day was to chug water, or any liquid, all afternoon — by the time Joel was one foot through the door, you were ready to burst. Snatching the bag of tests out of his hand, you ran to the bathroom to pee in a plastic disposable cup and stick at least three tests in.

Now, you two are waiting for more seconds and minutes to tick by, added to the tally of the entire day. As you’re about to stand and stop Joel from burning treads in the area rug from walking his tight circles, a trill of a bell vibrating demands your attention. Turning off the noise in a flash, you stand and cross the room to where your husband is now frozen in place. A gentle touch to his cheek, his eyelids flutter close and he takes a long exhale before opening them again.

“Ready?” you ask, uncertainty pitching your voice up.

A minute nod, one shake of his chin, Joel’s hand finds the small of your back as he responds, “Ready, mi amor.”

His hand guides you into the bathroom, and a handful of steps from the three tests laid out on the counter, you turn around, panic twisting your expression. Joel stumbles to stop his collision with you, large palms grabbing onto your biceps to catch himself.

“M’scared, J…” Your voice is meek, cracking with emotion. This is the last shot you gave yourselves, whatever is laid on the counter either means unbridled joy or a long road of poking and prodding in countless doctors’ offices.

The warmth of his hands rubbing your arms and the press of his lips to your forehead coax you to relax, to take deep breaths, “I know, Mari baby, I would be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t scared too. But no matter what is on those tests, we’re in it together, right sweet girl?”

His index finger hooks under your chin to draw your attention up to his face, a small smile filled with love and reassurance stretching his lips.

“Always in it together, J.” You take another deep breath, turning around and nodding shortly, “Okay, now m’ready.”

“That’s my girl,” he mumbles before he’s following right behind you again, the two of you pressing yourselves to each other against the counter. Joel has an iron grip on your hips, nerves manifesting in the squeezes of his hands. Shaking fingers turn over each test before picking them all up to your lines of vision.

Two lines. Two bold lines screaming at both of you, across all three tests.

Positive.

Positive. You’re pregnant. You and Joel are having a baby.

“Holy shit…” Joel exhales behind you, smile creeping into his voice. Somehow, his grip gets even tighter as he turns you around, “Holy shit! You’re pregnant, Mari. We’re havin’ a baby! You’re gonna be a momma!”

Giddiness overcomes both of you, happy and disbelieving laughter while you hold each other in a tight embrace. Joel litters kisses around your face, catching your lips last — all teeth and tight lipped from your matching grins.

“You’re gonna be a dad again, how’s that feel?”

“Like I won the damn lottery, mi amor.”

Another kiss, supple and heavy. Joel pulls away first and shakes his head, pressing his forehead to yours, “I love you so fucking much, Mari.”

“I love you too, J.”

“You ready to go, Sare?” you ask, standing next to her seat at the kitchen table where she’s working away at her homework, reaching a hand out to play with her curls. She smiles and nods, writing down one last answer to a question on her worksheet before she lays her pencil down and stands up, rushing over toward the door.

“Just gotta get my shoes on!” she calls out, and you smile, shaking your head.

“Take your time, sweet pea! God knows it’s gonna take me longer to walk over to the door.” Your joke falls on deaf ears of your husband, who stands at the kitchen island and rolls his eyes before he’s crossing the room over to you. Within arm’s length, his hands cup the bottom of your large belly, leaning in for a sweet peck.

“Nobody cares if you move slow. Better to be careful than—”

“Careless, yes, I know. I think those might be our baby’s first words since they hear them so much from their dad,” you tease and he shrugs, kissing you again while his touch wanders across the flannel of his that you’re sporting, too tired to buy more maternity clothes that you’ll grow out of and opting for his closet every morning.

“Jus’ looking out for my girls. All three of ‘em.” He beams proudly, brown eyes shining brightly before he turns you in his arms, accompanying you to the front door where your near-teenager is waiting. Ever the sweetheart she is, she’s got your purse slung on her shoulder, car keys in hand to pass off to you. You thank her quietly, turning back to Joel as he looks between the two of you.

“Alright, have fun with your girls’ day. And call if you need anything — either of you. I’ll be waitin’ here for ya.” Joel smooths down Sarah’s hair before kissing the crown of her head; she squirms away, the teenage attitude rearing its head in some early moments, especially with her dad. There’s less patience for him, which you completely understand as a teenage girl once yourself. He huffs out a sigh as she slips out the door, heading down the front path toward your car.

“Hey, s’nothing. Teenage girl things. She loves you, and you’re the best dad.” A hand on his cheek coaxes him down to your lips, a supple kiss exchanged before he pulls away and bends to kiss the top of your belly.

“Bye, my little June Bug.” He stands upright again and steals another kiss, mumbling, “And bye, mi Mariposa. Drive safe, let me know if you need anything while you’re out. I love you.”

“We love you too. And m’speaking for the moody one, too.” Joel chuckles and rubs your bump once more before sending you on your way, watching and waving from the door as y’all drive away.

The plan for today had come about when you started to notice Sarah growing quieter, retreating to her room more often after family dinners and denying the chance at movie night some days. Joel had noticed too, but was a bit nervous to broach it with her, not wanting to make her feel bad about being more independent.

Your relationship with her though was much different to Joel’s. There was the foundation of your caretaking role with her, much more of a friend with authority when it was only you two before you were anything close to a parental figure. More open and, well, you could relate more to what she was going through. She confided in you first about girls at school being catty, about her growing crushes on boys in her grade. And this year, only a month after your due date, she will officially become a teenager. It was a strange time in any girl’s life, full of growing pains.

And on top of all of that, add on a new baby arriving. Attentions drawn elsewhere, priorities shifted to preparing for the baby. Sarah never fell to the backburner in your minds, but you didn’t know how she was feeling. Guessing by her quiet actions, you could tell she was feeling left out but didn’t want to stir up trouble.

Always the sweet girl. And you knew how that was.

So, you’d asked her for a girls’ day, excluding her dad from the fun and giving both of you some time with each other to feel like it was years before. It was all about Sarah today, no mentions of baby — no buying diapers or supplies or clothes. A promise made to yourself to make Sarah feel special, because that is exactly what she was. The baby on the way may be your first biological child, but nothing can compare to the unique bond that you have with your Sare Bear.

The day was spent waddling throughout the mall, helping her pick out new outfits and shoes for the end of the school year. Collecting a haul, you two stopped off for lunch and a trip to the nail salon before you finally made your way back home in the evening. Sarah was smiling brightly in the passenger seat, joking around with you and eagerly telling you all about the latest school drama. Your heart was about to burst with how much she’d come out of her shell again all day, even wanting to show off her new things to her dad when you both got back.

In the living room, Joel greets you two from the couch, eyes widening and a low whistle leaving his lips when he sees the damage done, “Quite some shoppin’ there, Bug. Y’all buy out the whole store?”

You wave him off and encourage Sarah to show off her haul, walking over to settle onto the sofa next to Joel. The younger Miller excitedly starts pulling out pieces and showcasing them, excitedly telling her dad exactly where she plans to wear them. His hand rests on your leg, attention completely focused on his daughter in front of him, squeezing you gently when she gets particularly worked up over something. You can tell he feels what you were in the car, heart bursting that she seems like herself again after a day spent with you.

“That’s nice, Sare Bear. I like the color,” Joel comments on the last shirt Sarah holds up, her smile still beaming as she tosses it back into the bag.

“Thanks, Mom actually picked it out! I thought it would be fun to have for camp this year, since I’m gonna start the counselor training program…” Her voice trails off as Joel listens intently. You, on the other hand, take deep breaths to hold it together, the simple moniker rolling off of Sarah’s tongue so naturally. Your heartbeat thumps in your chest, and baby Miller kicks her feet against your tummy — equally as excited.

You manage to keep it calm while Sarah recaps the rest of the day before she gathers up her shopping bags to take to her room. As she’s leaving the room, she’s quick to run over and give you a hug, leaning down to meet you where you sit on the couch. Your belly sticks out between the two of you, but regardless you pull her into a tight squeeze as she says thank you. Her curls bounce as she scampers off upstairs, the quiet sounds of her feet in the hallway queuing your watery eyes to overflow and for your nose to sniffle. Joel is grinning brightly next to you, pulling you into his lap and holding you against him as he wipes the few happy tears away.

“She called me Mom…” you whisper to your husband, afraid to admit it any louder as if it would disappear.

Joel presses his forehead against yours, a sweet kiss against your lips before he whispers back, “You have no idea how happy it makes me to know she feels that way about you.”

“I just…I feel so lucky. And maybe it’s hormones, but oh my god, I can’t stop blubbering. I’m a mom.”

“You’re the best mom. Have been to Sarah since she met you, and you’re going to be the best mom to our little one on the way.”

June 21st, 2009.

The first day of summer.

It’s the first day of summer and you’re stuck inside. Not at home, no, you’re currently propped up in a hospital bed with your legs in stir-ups, breathing in between contractions. Exhaustion weighs on your body, a full hour passing of you pushing in time with the pain in your abdomen that radiates all over. Sweat sticks your hair to your forehead and Joel sitting next to you brushes it out of the way. His other hand is limp in yours, ready to be squeezed with a vice grip whenever you need to push. Joel leans over you in level with your head, lathering on encouragements.

“You got this, Mari.”

“So strong, baby. You can do it.”

“Thank you, mi amor, thank you thank you thank you.”

The last one comes after a string of complaints against him doing this to you — despite you both knowing you begged for it nine months prior — and for having such a big head in his own baby photos that he had to have passed down to the baby.

Another wave kicks in, your doctor and nurses coaching you to give another final push. Putting every last bit of your energy behind the flex of your muscles, groaning out with pain and frustration before a piercing cry fills the room. Heavy, tiny sobs ring in your ears.

“You did it, baby, m’so proud of you. Our little girl,” Joel says in awe, glancing between you and where the doctor holds your little baby girl, summoning Dad over to cut the cord. 

She’s taken away to be cleaned up and Joel returns to your side, ready to help you attentively through the afterbirth. You wave him off, begging him to go keep an eye on your little girl. Once she’s clean enough, the nurses lay her on your bare chest, the sight of her tiny fingers and toes bringing about your own cries. Your hands hold her there, delicate touches brushing against her soft skin and her damp but full head of dark brown hair.

The rest of the process is painful but smoother, shorter. Before you know it, all tests are done and Joel is next to the bed again, wiping a damp cloth across your forehead.

A rush of adrenaline, pure unfiltered need and excitement to meet your daughter keeps you awake, sitting up carefully as you accept her into your arms from your husband who’s wearing the biggest smile. He sits on the edge of the bed, hand on your leg as you study the features on her small face.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she, Mari? Looks like her momma.”

You beam, shaking your head as you place a fingertip against her nose, “See, I think she looks like her daddy. Already got the grumpy brow.”

Both of you laugh, your unbridled attention on the tiny bundle in your arms as you gush over her for minutes longer. Joel rubs your leg, drawing your eyes up to him as he asks, “So you think we picked a good name?”

“I think we picked a perfect name. Our ‘S’ girls,” you grin at him before looking down at your little girl, “Skye Isla Miller. I think it suits her perfectly.”

A bit more time is spent between only the two of you and Skye before you’re itching to see your eldest, and for her to meet her little sister. Joel retreats to where Sarah’s in the waiting area with Tommy and Maria, who’s now three months pregnant herself, waving her to come back with him. She nervously enters the room, quiet as a mouse until you reassure her with a smile and welcome her to sit in the bed next to you.

Joel makes the introductions, voice thick with emotion as he stands over his three girls, watching as his first little one meets his second, “Sarah Elena, this is your baby sister, Skye Isla.”

Sarah quietly asks permission to hold her; you lay Skye in her arms carefully, teaching her how to support her head and where to avoid her soft spot. Sarah picks up on it like a natural, adjusting her little sister when she fusses a bit, finally settling into a new set of familiar hands.

“Dad said you did a really good job, Mom. With everything today. S’pretty cool that you brought a whole person into the world…” Sarah glances over at you with a shy smile before addressing both you and Joel, “M’really happy she’s here.”

“You’re gonna be a great big sister, Bug,” Joel beams with pride as he squeezes her shoulder, leaning over to press a kiss to the crown of your head. He hums as he looks over you three, “Got my Mariposa, my Bug, and my little June Bug. Mi maripositas. Don’t think anything could beat seeing my three girls altogether finally.”

You find yourself observing your family from afar, listening with muffled ears as Joel and Sarah chat about who Skye got what features from. Cheeks aching from smiling, you can’t help but think that this summer was off to the most wonderful start, and that every summer after was only going to get better. 

taglist: @beskarandblasters @undrthelights @swiftispunk @joelsversion @asirenbyanyothername @ellenmunn @ja-ehyun @sw33tp1xie @marisemonteiroo @brunetteeras @bongsrconfusing @addictedtotlou @angie2274 @pedrostories @pedroholic @theelishad @johnwatsn @elissa @felicityofbakerstreet @atinylittlepain @northernbluess @cannolighost @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @peppesgirl @pastawench @anoverwhelmingdin @wolfbook87 @mswarriorbabe80 @planet-marz1 @kiwisbell @lizzie-cakes

[butchcarmy]

ALEXITHYMIA CH 5: detergent, thrifting, and cake

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader

Chapter Rating: T (11k)

ao3 link, ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4

Chapter Summary: It’s his roommate’s birthday this week, and Carmy doesn’t find out until it’s a couple days away. Once he finds they’re unluckily spending their birthday alone, he makes it his mission to make their lonely day better. It’s the least he can do. Little does he know how much more he has to discover about them and about himself.

Tags: reader having trauma, carmy having trauma, toxic families, domesticity

A/N: It’s time… it’s time. I said last chapter was the longest…just kidding. THIS ONE is the longest, and it was hardest to write so far. The duo gets to have a lot of fun this chapter, though! arguably the most so far! A lot of domestic goodness and good food and shopping! Until… :)

also HUGE shoutout to @justaconsequence on tumblr for being my beta reader for this chapter! she was so kind and so helpful. this behemoth of a fic is too much for me to proofread on my own. anyway, thanks for reading and enjoy! can't wait to hear what y'all think!

Typically, by this time on Monday morning, Carmy's usually three cigarettes deep into paperwork, urgently (and poorly) calculating the sales the restaurant needs to make this week to stay afloat. Because even though it's a Sunday closing activity, he never seems to find the occasion to get around to it, and by 10 pm, he doesn't have the capacity to be crunching numbers. 

Not that 8 am is much better. At least he's not dissecting the debt this morning—he's studying detergent prices.

“Why is this one, like, almost 20 dollars?” Carmy stops reading the price tags and glances over at his roommate, who's squinting at products on upper shelves. The lights are always too bright in this place. “And for such a small bottle…”

“Pre-mixed organic sulfate-free 100% vegan bleach,” Carmy reads dully. 

“So stupid.” They shake their head. “Does grocery shopping ever depress you?”

“Usually,” he replies dryly. “Inflation is pretty depressing.”

“Don’t even get me started. Capitalism in general depresses me.”

“Hm, yeah. That too.” He sighs through his nose and tries to refocus. He's having a hard time processing all the numbers and letters today. “You see any unscented detergent? Somethin’ mild?”

“Um…” They crane their neck up and down, and then they crouch on the ground. They pick up a white bottle. “How's this? It's like, 8 dollars. It's not name-brand, but…”

“You know I don't care.” He kneels with them, huddling in close. They smell faintly of a sweet, yet musky perfume. He reminds himself to focus on the detergent, not the way they smell (even if it's far more interesting). “Yeah, this looks good. Thank you.”

“For your vintage denim, right?” They stand up to put the detergent in their shopping cart, which is barely separated with his stuff vs. theirs. He doesn't understand why his face grows warm at their comment, but it does. 

“Uh, yeah. It is.” If the blush shows on his face, they graciously don't comment. “Although I'll admit I don't get around to washing them as much as I should.”

“You're not supposed to wash jeans that often anyway, right?” They lean their elbows onto the rickety cart as they push it, and he ambles along next to them, matching the slow, relaxed pace of their walk. 

“Yeah, but I really…” The implications are clear. They fail in suppressing a laugh, and it makes him smile. “And I’m supposed to hand wash them, so.”

“Oh, so what you're saying is that you never wash them,” they tease.

“That is not at all what I'm saying.” They make an unimpressed face. “I do laundry, it's just…”

“Not often,” they supply helpfully. He tries to come up with something, but he's got nothing. “It's okay, I understand.”

“I promise I wash my clothes,” he mumbles, wilting. 

“I know.” There's that new smile he's grown to recognize more clearly. It's this mischievous one they get when they’re teasing him, and it's so cute he doesn't have any room in him to get even a little irritable. “I've seen you do laundry maybe once or twice.”

“Hey,” he says, warning, and they laugh and run ahead of him, the squeaky wheels of the cart giggling alongside them. 

After the night he almost burned down their apartment, he had felt different. It was like a switch being flipped, light abruptly filling up a dark room, and he's been squinting, struggling to adjust. But as he walks with them today, grocery shopping lit by blinding white fluorescents, he finds that he can see them rather clearly. 

The connection between the two of them is tangible, palpable. It's workable pasta dough that's been kneaded to uniformity. The dough is malleable, clean, and when he touches it, sticky, glutenous residue doesn't cover his palms. When he catches at them peeking over their shoulder to make sure he's still following them, he chases away the urge to pull them into his arms. He throws the desire into boiling water in hopes that enough pressure will change those feelings into something more palatable. He's not sure if it's working.

Something happened when he hugged them that Saturday night. He doesn't dare name what that “something” is, but it's rising from where it's sitting at the bottom of the pot, just about to hit the surface—

“Hey, I gotta get some stuff in this aisle.” Carmy snaps out of it and follows them as they veer the cart to the left. He raises his eyes to read the categories on the sign.

“You bakin’ somethin’?” They both move out of the way for an oncoming cart.

“Yeah, was thinking about it.” They halt to a stop in front of the boxed cake mix and step back to fully peruse the shelves. He stands next to them, and they glance at him out of the corner of their eye. “You’re not judging me for getting box mix, are you?”

“Not at all,” he answers honestly. “Food is always better when made from scratch, but box mix has its uses. Besides, I’m not a baker.”

“That’s true, but I’m sure you still make an insane cake.” Carmy’s aware he can’t make them unsee his flash of a smile, but he still shrugs. “Sure, stay humble.”

“I try. What’s the occasion?”

“Ah, nothing much. It’s just my birthday.”

“Oh, okay.” 

…And he's about to move on, just as casually as it came, but then the processing finishes.

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” They ask confusedly. 

“Is it your birthday today?”

“No, um, it’s this Thursday.” He exhales in palpable relief. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He hates at how worked up he sounds.

“Um…” Their face is twinged with guilt. “...There was never a good time to bring it up?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be getting upset.” He sighs, shakes his head. “I just feel like I should’ve known, I guess.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not your fault. I never brought it up. Um…” Their hands are fiddling with the edges of their sleeves. “I just have complicated feelings about my birthday.”

“Ah, I see. I get that.” That, he can understand. “Is it all the gifts and stuff?”

“Kinda. It’s a part of it.” They lean down to grab a box of devil’s food cake, and that makes him remember that they’re in a grocery store. Not quite the best place for a personal conversation like this. They’re being vague, but he won’t press. Not right now.

“You shouldn’t be baking for yourself on your birthday,” Carmy mutters. They smile at that, but it’s different. It’s heavy with melancholy. 

“It’s alright. I’m gonna be celebrating with my friends this weekend, just not on my actual birthday.” His conflicted expression persists. “It’s okay, really. It’s just a day. It’ll be enough of a present to not have to go into work.”

“Put that back,” he blurts out. “I’ll make you a cake.”

“Don’t you work?” Their eyebrows are arched in surprise. “You really don’t—”

“I know I don’t. But I want to. I do work, yeah, but I’ll, I’ll get someone to cover me.” He’s never said those words before in his life, and now that they’re out, he can’t take them back. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t want to take them back. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course,” they reply quickly. 

“Then let me do this. Please.” He has no idea where this courage is coming from. “I want to. I know I'm always working, but I really…” Their eyes are wide with wonder, yet watchful. It shouldn't make him falter, but it does. His heart stutters and whatever bravado briefly gripped him fades away. “I’m…probably being too pushy right now. Tell me to fuck off?”

“I’m not gonna tell you to fuck off for wanting to bake me a cake,” they laugh, easing his worries like they always do. “C’mon, Carm.”

“So, uh, is that a yes, or…?”

“Just so we’re clear, I’m not trying to ask you to take off of work for my birthday,” they start carefully, “but I wouldn’t object to it. So, yeah. It’s a yes.”

“Okay.” He can’t help his giddy smile. There's someone saying you look stupid like this, but he’s with them, and it makes everything else silent. “Okay, good.”

“You’re…being super sweet about all this.” He doesn’t understand why—maybe it’s the way they say it—but hearing that makes his neck go hot. 

“I mean…friends do stuff like this, don’t they?” 

“Only the good ones.” They beam beautifully at him. He hasn’t done anything to warrant their affection, he thinks, but the feeling of their smile is so warm. He can’t resist soaking in it.

He's glad that lady luck blessed him just enough to stop their birthday from passing him by. He's been itching for an opportunity to repay them for all the bullshit they've had to take from him as of recent (although he knows if he brought it up, they would say it wasn't anything worth repaying). They deserve something good from him for once, not panic attacks and nightmares. 

He just wishes he could figure out why they were going to spend their birthday alone. He knows them a lot better now, but there's still so much left shrouded. He wants to know them inside and out—he wants to learn what makes them tick, what keeps them up at night, what makes them happy. He wants to know all of it in its entirety, to fill in the gaps in the puzzle he doesn't have the pieces for.

He has some of the pieces. He understands that their relationship with their family to his—distant, strained, and difficult. Unfortunately, that’s about it. He doesn’t know any of the specifics. It’s not like he’s talked to them about his family outside of the off-handed bitter remarks, just as they have, but he finds that this fact leaves him dissatisfied.

He just hopes that they'll let him in. He's not sure if they will, but…he's gonna try. He has to. He's sick of not trying.

. . . . .

“You want to take off?” Richie’s staring at Carmy like he’s grown a second head. They're taking a smoke break in the back. “I don’t know what sort of doppelganger bullshit this is, but if you’re trying to pretend to be Carmen, you’re doing a shit job.”

“Very funny, jackass,” Carmy mutters. “I’m being serious. This Thursday.”

“All day?” Carmy grimaces, but he nods. Richie shakes his head. “You’re being weird. Really fuckin’ weird.”

“I know I shouldn’t. It’s a bad idea, but—”

“Cousin, no, that’s not at all what’s goin’ on here,” Richie interrupts, and Carmy’s at a loss for words. “This is the best idea you’ve ever had.”

“What?” Carmy squints at him. “Are you being serious?”

“‘Course I’m serious. I’m always serious.” Carmy decides not to comment on that. “Do you know how many times I’ve tried to get you off this ship for just one fucking second?”

“As the owner of this place, you’ve tried way too many times,” he replies dryly. 

“Uh, as the original co-owner of this place, you don’t listen to me enough.” Again, Carmy decides not to elaborate on that one. It’s not worth it. “Take the day off. I was running it fine before, and I’ll keep running it.”

“No, no, we’re not saying that, it was not fine,” Carmy starts, but Richie’s already flipping him off. 

“Whatever, I already know, new fucking system and all that. Don’t get anxiety or whatever over it, that’s why you got Syd hustling shit your way, right?” 

“Uh.” Carmy didn’t realize that Richie had even been paying attention to the new hierarchy in the restaurant, let alone respecting it in any capacity. “Yeah, she is.”

“Then it’s fine.” Richie blows smoke in his face, and Carmy swats it away with a glare. “It was fine when you came in an hour late today, wasn’t it?” 

“You guys knew I wasn’t gonna come in until later,” Carmy argues, defensive (although he’s not sure if there’s actually anything to argue about). 

“Exactly.” Richie sighs all of a sudden, a long one that sounds like it’s bone deep. “Carm. Let me be straight with you. You need to do this. Okay? No backing out of this one.”

“Why’re you sayin’ this? What are you sayin’?” 

“It’s ‘cause of your roommate, right? This Thursday?”

“...Yeah.” Carmy pales. “How did you—?”

“Fuckin’ knew it,” Richie says, grinning. “It was obvious.”

“No way. I didn’t say shit.”

“You didn’t need to.” Richie flicks the ash off his cigarette. “They’re changin’ you, man. We can all see it.”

“...” Carmy can’t deny that. He doesn't have time to ponder on that right now. “Is it really okay?”

“Yeah, you could stand to have an attitude adjustment.”

“I wasn’t talking about that, asshole. I was talking about Thursday.”

“Yes, for fuck’s sake, it’s completely fine.” Richie claps a hand on his shoulder, solid in its grip. It makes Carmy’s eyes snap to him, mostly in confusion. “So what’s the occasion? Must be important.”

“It’s their birthday. I mean, I could just go home early that day, but—”

“Yo, if you’re gonna take off, don’t halfass it—”

“That’s not what I was gonna say. When I’m here, I can’t seem to find my way out. This place…it just has a way of trapping you in.” He doesn’t expect Richie to nod, but he does. “I know if I don’t take the whole day off, I’ll never get out of here in time. Not until it’s too late.”

For some reason, that makes Richie laugh. 

“Yeah. That's it.” Richie shakes his head as smoke trails out of his mouth. “That’s just it, man. You have to make time for the things that’re important. Even the recitals where you have to listen to five year olds play twinkle twinkle little star 20 times. You can’t miss shit like this. Because once you miss it, it’s gone.”

“Rich.” Carmy wants to say something to make that haunted expression leave Richie's face, but he doesn't come up with anything in time.

“Don’t give me that look.” Richie’s hand falls from his shoulder. “I’m just tryin’ to stop you from fucking shit up. They actually seem like a good person.”  

“Y’think so?”

“I do. You?”

“Yeah.” Carmy doesn’t bother hiding his smile, even though he can already sense Richie’s teasing coming from a mile away. “They’re a really good friend.”

“Friend. Sure.” Richie snorts. 

“Don’t push it,” and for some reason he adds, “they were gonna spend it alone.”

“Huh. Sociable guy like them spending it alone?”

“I know. I didn't ask. Maybe I should've.”

“Maybe. I dunno, cousin. Everyone's got their secrets. Especially the ones that try to act like they don't have any.”

“You're strangely full of wisdom today.”

“Fuck right off,” Richie responds in regular Richie fashion.

“I think they're like me. Like us.” Carmy's not sure why he's saying this on a Monday afternoon at work out of all times, but the truth bursts out of him beyond his will. Richie's expression shifts into something more solemn, something recognizable. “Y'know what I mean.”

“...Yeah.” Richie claps his hand on Carmy's back again. “Shitty parents club.”

As Carmy stands there in the back, feet sore and tobacco in the air, he sees his childhood in flashes. He's five years old again and is following Mike around with scuffed sneakers and untamed hair, although he supposes that unruliness never truly changed with time. There's warm sunlight filtering through green summer leaves. He hears his mother behind him, somewhere, but maybe he doesn't. 

He thinks of home, of his bedroom, and it is cold. He has homework he’s failed to complete again. It's sitting on his desk, on top of all of the other shit he can't finish. There's screaming, and he's not listening.

He blinks. He’s 30, and he hasn’t talked to his mom since Michael died.

“Shitty parents club,” Carmy repeats hollowly. 

. . . . .

When Thursday morning arrives, Carmy ends up greeting his roommate with flour in his hair and eggs sizzling on the pan. 

“Um,” they say, just as Carmy goes “G'morning.” They both freeze, brief awkwardness circling between them before it dissipates with their breathless laugh.

“Good morning. I didn't think you'd actually take off,” they admit.

“I said I would,” he replies quietly, but it's not accusatory. How many times had he said he'd be home for dinner just for him to arrive when they're already asleep? He tries not to make empty promises anymore. Nonetheless, he understands their surprise. “Um, I'm almost done with breakfast. I didn't get to the coffee yet.”

“Am I supposed to be offended?” They laugh. “That's the least I can do, with you doing all of this.” They sluggishly shuffle behind him to reach down into some kitchen cabinets. “It's a special day, so I'll even make us pour overs.”

“That's true. It is special.” He peeks over his shoulder, pausing from basting the eggs in brown butter to see them setting up on the kitchen island. They gently place the hourglass-shaped glass onto the counter with a light clink. He silently switches the button on for the electric gooseneck kettle to his right. “Am I allowed to wish you a happy birthday, or should I not?”

“Hm, I don't mind. Just don't overdo it, which I doubt you will.” They pull out a bag of coarse ground coffee and a filter. As soon as they open the bag, he can smell the sweet scent of the light roast floating towards him. 

“Okay. Then, happy birthday,” he says as casually as he can.

“Thanks, Carmy.” He studies their expression, searching for annoyance in their content expression, but he doesn't find any. “That's not even really what I meant by today being special, though.”

“How else did you mean it?” The eggs are done. He reaches over the hot pan to cut the heat.

“Well, y'know. I dunno if we’ve ever had a full day off together.” They're carefully scooping grounds into the filter fitted on top of the glass, creating a small hill. “I think I managed to catch you coming home early on my off days sometimes, but never a full day.”

“Huh.” Carmy has to take a minute to think about that one. “Yeah, I don't know either. I think you're right.”

“Then, like I said. It's special.” They seal up the bag of coffee grounds, and then they frown. “Shit. I forgot to turn on the kettle. Can you—”

“Already did it,” he reports, pleased, and his sense of accomplishment only doubles at their sigh of relief. 

“Thank god.” There's the familiar clicking sound of the kettle reaching the perfect temperature. “Just in time, too. Can you hand it to me?”

“Yes, chef,” he says, because it always makes them laugh. Today is no exception. He slides the metallic kettle over to them. 

“So what delights did you whip up over there?” They ask. They begin pouring the almost boiling water over their coffee grounds in a slow circle, gradually inching towards the middle. “It smells amazing. I want the full break-down.”

“The full break-down, got it.” On two circular plates, he's carefully placing a fried egg, thick cut bacon, and a slice of toast with jam and butter. “Uh…it's nothin’ special, just stuff we had in the fridge. We've got a, uh, brown-butter fried egg with a little paprika, sage, pepper, salt…”

“Oh, just an egg made with liquid gold, no big deal,” they imitate.

“Cut it out,” he snips back, but he's smiling and they know it. “There's honestly not much to it. This thick-cut bacon was in the back, so I cooked the rest of it. And the toast is just brioche with salted honey butter and blueberry jam.”

“Carmy. C'mon. That's nothing special to you?”

“I mean.” It's not quite nothing, he thinks. “I can make nicer breakfasts, is all.”

“That's what you said when you made me garlic bread, and that fucking blew my mind.” They set the kettle down with a thunk. The glass is full of dark coffee. Prepped next to them is their favorite glass mug alongside Carmy's. He's not sure how they knew that it was his favorite, but he doesn't question it.

“I'm just letting you know that you should wait to be really impressed.” 

“Too fucking late, man.” He's turned around and placed the two breakfast platters on the kitchen island, and they gawk openly at it. “Holy fuck.”

“It's ready,” he says, surprisingly meek. He can't comprehend why anxiety's hitting him now of all times. He's served acclaimed food critics, top-security government officials, and celebrities more times than he can count. Before that audience, he never faltered, but in front of his roommate in their crumpled pajamas, his heart stutters. 

“Oh, wow…” They regard the food with undeserved softness. Like a punctured balloon, his anxiety immediately begins deflating. They're staring at the food like it's a painting in a museum. “You seriously didn't have to do all of this.”

“I know. I just wanted to.” He feels heat on the back of his neck. “Is…is that okay?”

“It's more than okay.” Suddenly, he notices their eyes are puffy, like they were crying. “Goddamnit, get over here.” 

He only registers what's about to happen for one second before they're hugging him. Their palms are on his back, and the top of their head tucks under his chin perfectly. He makes a small, surprised noise. 

“I, I'm glad you like it.” He links his arms around them, allows himself to rest his chin on their head. With their face turned to the side, their ear's pressed up against his chest, and he's instantly struck with the paranoia that they're gonna hear his rapid heartbeat. 

“I haven't even taken a bite yet, and I love it.” They lean back then, arms still wrapped around him and head craned upwards to look at him. It's far too intimate for what they are, and Carmy hates how his heart beats even harder. “Thank you for doing all this. Seriously. I…”

“The breakfast's just a side thing, I'm, um, still baking you a cake.”

“What? You're doing this and a cake?”

“Um,” Carmy repeats intelligently.

“Carmy. Carmy, Carmy, Carmy.” Their words ooze affection, but surely he's just imagining it. Their hands are crawling up his back. “God, I could just ki—”

“There's the timer,” Carmy blurts out, because his phone's ringing and so are his ears. At the sound, they let him go, and he grabs two towels to retrieve the two circular cake pans from the oven. A toothpick poked through the middle comes out clean, so he sets them on a wire rack to cool. 

He needs to focus on the cakes. That's the most important thing.

“Oh my god.” They lean in close to the cake and take a deep breath. “Is this—”

“Devil's food cake, yeah.” The heat searing his face is surely from opening the oven. 

“You—how did you—” Their smile is luminous with joy. “You really pay attention to every little thing, don't you?”

“Sometimes. When it counts.” He fidgets awkwardly, nails picking at the sides of his fingers. “Wanna eat by the window, or…?”

“Fuck yeah I do. Can you bring the plates over? I'll have the coffee over in just a second.”

Carmy sets up at their little table first, placing the plates just right across from one another. The morning sun casts a cozy glow through their speckled window, streaking planes of light across the floor. He patiently waits and watches them pace from the fridge to the counter, splashing cream into their mugs. Through the transparent glass, he watches the white fizzle into the dark coffee, blending into a warm brown.

“Just a tiny spoon of sugar for you, right?” They peek over their shoulder, catching his stare, and he nods. He's also not quite sure how they know that, either. They've had coffee in the morning maybe a handful of times before.

He supposes they also pay attention sometimes, when it counts.

“Alright, here we go.” They bring a mug in each hand and set them delicately down on the table. He notes that his coffee is the perfect color. “Oh, thanks for waiting. You didn't have to.”

“I, I guess so, yeah. It's just, uh, you always wait for me, so…”

“That's—that's true.” An odd tension sets in their face, but they laugh it off, and it disappears. “I guess I’m not used to it anymore.”

A part of him wants to ask further by what they meant by that, but they're already taking pictures of his food so dutifully. He doesn't want to ruin it, so he eats. 

It's nice to have a solid breakfast for once. He had taken their advice from the other night and had been drinking milk with protein powder. It was nice not to feel like he was teetering the edge by lunch time, but truthfully, it was a bit unsavory. This breakfast platter is much more palatable. It also helps that his stomach pains aren't active today. 

Time rolls by slowly this quiet morning, and Carmy recognizes the oddity of it immediately. It's clear to see when by this time, he's usually already done at least ten laps through the restaurant. An irritating signal in his brain is telling him that he needs to get up and do something, not sit around and eat, but for once, he doesn't want to listen. 

A memory from roughly two weeks ago (or was it one week?) unearths all of sudden. He was up early, drinking shitty coffee and sinking into dissociation. Mornings were lonely, as he was usually the only one up, but not that day. His roommate came stumbling into the kitchen, awake from a restless night. They chatted before he had to head out, and he remembers wishing he had more time in the morning to spend with them. 

He imagined a morning just like this one, with pajamas, food, and messy hair. He daydreamed about having all the time in the world, and he thought about getting to spend it all with them. Now he’s sitting in that moment he imagined, except that it’s real. They're across from him in their wrinkled pajamas and bedhead, contentedly mowing through their food. There's a smear of jam on the corner of their mouth. He takes a sip of his coffee, and it's perfect, just as they made it for him. 

This amount of good should scare him, needs to scare him, but he just can't bring himself to care anymore. He wants more than nightmares, cigarettes, and floating just above the budget. He wants this.

He tastes his coffee and reminds himself that he’s still here. The moment hasn’t passed him by. 

“Is it good?” He asks quietly. It’s a rhetorical question, it always is, but he can’t help himself. He wants to hear it from them. 

“So. Fucking. Good.” They have to finish chewing before they answer. “You always knock it out of the park. If this is the prelude, I don’t know if I can handle what’s next,” they say, gesturing towards the cooling cake.

“It won’t be ready for a while yet. You have time to prepare yourself.” That makes them smile. All according to plan. “Got anything in mind for today?”

“Nothing glamorous. I was just gonna go out for a little. Go thrifting, maybe watch a movie later. Smoke a joint.” They shrug. “Just my usual sort of thing.”

“Mm.” He dusts off crumbs from the toast off his fingers on his pants. “Sounds like a good time. You still wanna go?”

“I do, yeah.” They stare at him for a moment, as if processing his words. Or just him. “Do you…wanna tag along, or…?”

Whenever they ask him if he wants to spend time together (whether it’s grocery shopping, smoking, or watching a show), they usually offer it with an air of nonchalance. Carmy’s assumed it’s been out of politeness, restraining their expression as to not put any pressure onto him. That’s the person he’s used to, not this uneasy anxiety, someone afraid to ask him to spend time with them.

It reminds him of himself in every way. 

“I’d love to tag along,” he answers easily, just as they’ve always done for him. “I’ve got the whole day off, after all.”

“Right. ‘Course.” He watches their little smile double in size. “I promise to not make you watch me try on clothes for too long.”

“I wouldn’t mind. I like thrifting, y’know.” And you, he thinks to himself. 

“You do? Oh, of course—” They make a contemplative noise to themself. “Vintage denim. I always wondered how you managed to have so many pairs.”

“Once you know where to look, they’re pretty easy to find. I can help you find some, if you want.”

“I’d love that. I realized the other day that I don’t have any dark wash jeans, so—actually, the truth is that I do have a pair, but they’re so fucked up and old that I never wear them anymore. Anyway, I need new jeans. Think you could find some dark wash blue jeans for me?”

“If you’re willing to hit up more than one store, then definitely,” he replies, just a smidge cocky.

“I’m willing to hit up even two more stores.” He pretends to gasp, to which they nod confidently. “Yeah. That’s right. Maybe even three.”

“We won’t need three,” Carmy promises. “I’m better than that. Probably won’t even need two, but…” He shrugs. “We’ll see what they’ve got.”

“Okay, Mr. Confident over here,” they tease. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”

They head out after they both clean the kitchen and freshen up. Carmy gets the flour out of his hair and rewets his hair to revive some of his curls. He silently thanks his past self for showering the night before. With the passage of the morning cold and the rising sun, the afternoon weather’s become brisk and pleasant. However, the weather’s barely a factor in how he’s dressing. 

Is this too much? Is this not enough? He’s switching shirts and pants in the mirror like he’s about to go on a date. He knows he’s not, swears to himself that he’s not, but he’s put product in his hair and cologne on his wrists and temples. It’s not a date, but he can’t fucking decide what to wear. 

He sucks it up and settles on a gray sweater, light wash blue jeans, and white sneakers. From under his collar and at the bottom of his sweater peeks out a brown button up. It’s probably too much, but this is his sixth outfit change. He’s fed up with it and himself.

After adjusting the gold chain that got hidden under his collar, he steps out. 

He finds them already waiting by the door in this thick knit cardigan and fitted plaid pants that makes his heart stutter. When they hear him approaching, their head snaps up from their phone, and their skin sparkles with touches of makeup. 

“You look really nice.” He has no idea how he let that slip, but he’s more shocked that he didn’t stutter once. 

“Ah, th—thank you,” they stammer, fingers fidgeting with the edge of their sleeve. He’s not sure if it's their makeup or their skin that’s doing the blushing. It’s nice to see them being the one tripping over their words for once. “You look pretty handsome yourself.”

“Oh. Um.” Handsome? It echoes in his head. He instantly feels self conscious. So much for being the more suave one for once. “Thanks, uh…I just didn’t wanna wear my work clothes,” he lies in an attempt to ease his embarrassment.

“I gotcha.” He’s glad they don’t challenge him on it. “Shall we head out?”

“Yeah. Where we headed first?”

They take the metro to their personal favorite shop a little up north. The metro’s surprisingly busy for a Thursday afternoon, but the crowd forces the two of them to be huddled next to each other. They’re both standing close to a pole by the window, each with one hand wrapped around the metal. 

As passengers come and go, they step closer to him to move out of the way. Eventually it just gets to a point where they’re standing nearly pressed up against his chest. He tries not to dwell on how that makes him feel, but he can smell the fragrance they put on, and it’s very distracting. 

Luckily, the ride is short. Any longer on the train, he might’ve put an arm around their shoulder, god forbid. 

“If we can’t find what I’m looking for here, maybe you can show me one of your favorite spots to go thrifting,” they say as they enter the thrift store. The interior is decorated, clean, and lovely, and unlike the metro, it’s not packed to the brim with people. It smells faintly of incense, and there’s local art framed all over the walls for sale. It oozes warmth and excitement, much like them. 

“There’s a ton of shit here, so maybe we won’t need to after all.” He finds himself intaking everything at once, eyes flickering from sign to sign. “I’ve never been here before. This is really cool.”

“It’s my favorite place to find new clothes.” They trail down the racks, finger flitting between clothes. “I hope you can find something you like here, too.”

“I’m sure I will.” He’s already walking to their denim section and immediately spots some contenders. “I think I already have.”

He’s not sure if they mean to spend hours in there, but he certainly does. There’s more than just clothes to look at, although that’s what takes up most of his time. There’s dishes, furniture, cds, vinyls, books, even electronics. He goes back and forth with them, clothing articles piling up in his arms as they sit on battered couches together and peruse scratched cds. Everywhere he looks, there’s just more, more, and more. 

“Okay, I’ve gotta cut myself off,” they say as they leave the furniture section. They’ve sat on nearly every chair in that place. “I already have so many clothes to try on, and that’s not even including the jeans you’ve picked out for me.”

“If it helps, some of these are mine.” Carmy flips through the layers of hanging jeans that have built up on his forearm. “If you can believe it, I even found some stuff that isn’t denim.”

“I’m not sure if I can, but seeing is believing.” They thumb through some long-sleeves he’s carrying that are seeping out from under the jeans. “I’m just glad you were able to find some stuff for yourself, too. Not that I was that worried.”

He hands them the jeans he’s found for them, all dark wash and in their size. To his surprise, they also hand him an article of clothing for him to try on. 

“I thought you’d look good in this. You’ll have to show me when you try it on,” they say, and it’s innocent, completely meaningless, but as soon as Carmy agrees and rushes to hide in the changing room, he views in the mirror and sees his flushed face. 

Doesn’t mean anything, he repeats to himself, over and over and over. Stop getting in over your head.

He tries on his items of choice first. The first is a dark green henley that looked better on the rack than it did him, so he puts it in the reject pile. The second is a dark blue long sleeve that fits just right. It’s cheap, too, so it’s an automatic purchase. He presumes the way to word it is that it hugs him in all the right places, but he’s not sure. The rest are jeans, of which only one he decides to buy. A bit pricey, but for the brand and year, it’s worth it (although he basically always uses this reasoning with himself). 

Now, for the piece of clothing they picked out for him. It’s a dark brown t-shirt that seems like it’s just the right length. It’s a muted, yet warm brown, a bit rosey in hue. He doesn’t realize it’s a v-neck until he gets it over his head and down his shoulders. 

“I’ve never worn a v-neck before,” he calls out to the room next to him. 

“Oh, are you trying it on? Do you like it?” Their slightly muffled voice calls back to him. 

“Um…I’m not sure,” he admits with a shaky laugh. The collar is lower than he’s used to. It dips below his collarbones, and between them dangles his chain. “Should I show you?”

“Yes! Hold on, lemme get some pants on. …Okay, I’m stepping out!”

He hears their door open alongside his. When they see him, their expression snaps into what he believes is surprise and delight. He’s sure he looks somewhat the same. 

They’re wearing one of the vintage jeans he picked out for them—dark blue Levi’s. Although they’re rolled up a couple times at the bottom, it seems to fit them just right. As he stares, he’s reminded of his many pairs of Levi’s, and it’s more or less like seeing them in his clothes, which is. Which is. Uh. Yeah.

“I knew that would suit you,” they say with a grin, to which he realizes he can’t hide his blush. 

“It’s not weird?”

“Not at all. It looks good.” They tilt their head to the side as they openly look him over, hip cocked. Something in their gaze is making him hot. “No pressure to buy it, of course.”

“It’s different from what I’m used to, but…” He looks down, smooths the fabric with his palm. “It’s kinda nice, something like this. Um, and what do you think about the jeans?” He needs to direct the attention off him quickly. 

“Oh, I love them. The others ended up fitting not quite right on me, but that’s how it goes.” They move from side to side, almost twirling. It’s cute. “I love these, though. Just a little long, but I’m used to it.”

“That’s how it always is. I can hem them for you, if you want. I usually hem mine.”

“And he sews,” they say, seemingly to themself, but they’re looking right at him. Embarrassing. “If you don’t mind, that’d be amazing. Either way, I’m probably getting them.”

“Good. You should. They fit well.” 

“Yeah?” They glance back into their fitting room, likely examining themself in the mirror, and then back at him. “Okay, then. Definitely getting them.” With that and a cheeky grin, they go back into their dressing room to try on the rest of their clothes. Carmy follows suit, grateful to hide his embarrassed face. 

Carmy heads to check out with the dark blue long sleeve, a pair of jeans, and the brown v-neck. They’ve decided on the pair of jeans they showed him earlier and a little purple tank-top he wishes he got to see on them. 

“Will that be all for you today?” The cashier asks him as he checks out first. Even the cashiers here are pretty nice, he finds. 

“Oh, their stuff, too.” He nods to them, who’s standing right next to him. 

“Carmy.” They glare at him. 

“What?” He feels himself smiling. 

“You can’t do this to me.”

“C’mon.” He nudges them gently with his elbow. “It’s my present to you.”

“Oh, so the present wasn’t the breakfast? Or the cake? Or helping me pick these out?”

“Why can’t it be all of them?” He decides to stop this in its tracks and takes the clothes out of their hands, sliding it onto the counter. “Just these two, and that’ll be it.”

“Just you wait until your birthday hits,” they mutter darkly, shaking their head. “Just you wait.”

“I haven’t told you my birthday.” He pauses. “Right?”

“I’ll ask Richie.”

“No, you won’t.”

“You’re giving me no choice.”

“You could also just, I don't know, not ask—”

“I wouldn't have to if you didn't force my hand—”

“You guys are cute together,” the cashier comments with a smile, surely a harmless, meaningless thing, but it shuts the both of them up. Carmy can already feel the impact of it on his psyche, and he decides to tuck away the surging emotions to unpack later. At least, he'll try. 

“You really didn't have to get those for me,” they tell him when they're exiting the store. “But I guess I should just be saying thank you. So…thank you.”

“Sure. I mean, it would've been better if it was wrapped and stuff, but…” He shrugs. “Had to get you a real present, not just food.”

“Not just food, my ass.” That makes him laugh. “It'll be nice to have something to remind me of this day, though. That's one of the nice parts of getting gifts. Everytime I wear these clothes, I'll think of you.”

“Good. Yeah, that's…good,” he finishes lamely. He nods like their words haven't flustered him, but he's sure they can tell. They laugh, and he can tell it's because of his reaction. 

“I'm sorry that the cashier said that,” they say out of nowhere.

“Why're you apologizing? It's not your fault.” Any embarrassment he was feeling before is immediately replaced with a new, more potent sort of embarrassment. He was hoping they wouldn't mention it. 

��I guess that's true. I don't know, I just…” They trail off. “Just hope it didn't upset you.”

“Not at all,” he lies, and he prays they believe it.

. . . . .

The metro is less crowded on the way home. They sit comfortably next to each other and watch the city pass them by. A part of Carmy mourns the closeness they had on the way there, but the other part tells him to get it together and keep his distance. 

“I'mma take a nap,” they say with a yawn. Their cardigan and bag have been tossed onto the couch. The new clothes have been thrown into the laundry machine, and there's the muffled sound of running water. “Maybe we could smoke and watch a movie later, though.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” He peers into the fridge to check on the cake rounds. Just as he left them. “Have a good nap.”

“Thanks, Carm,” they reply sleepily. “Wouldn't be a good day if I didn't get to have a nice nap, after all.” With that, they shuffle into their room and shut the door behind them.

Carmy spends the next two hours flying around the apartment, baking, cooking, cleaning. The sun slowly sets as he goes. He keeps his body and hands moving in hopes that his head doesn't have a chance to catch up, but it manages to keep the pace. It always does.

The crumb coat's fucked up on the left, his first train of thought says. He inspects the surface, eyes following the circumference of the cake. There's a little loose crumb. With the edge of his spatula, he tucks the crumb away. 

The faint smell of chocolate wafts up from the cold cake rounds. He's hunched over the kitchen island, hands reaching between dark chocolate frosting and cake. The afternoon sun casts harsh lights onto the cake, and it glistens. He genuinely can't remember the last time he's made a layered cake. He's never been much of a baker, anyhow. 

You're going to disappoint them, his second train of thought interrupts, running parallel to the other one at full speed. Who do you think you are? You don't make cakes. 

He leans back, inspects his work. The crumb coats are perfect. 

Fuck off, he thinks back, triumphant. Look at that shit. He runs his finger along the spatula, picking up congealed crumbs and frosting. He licks it off, and it's delicious. And it tastes good, asshole. So shut the fuck up.

You're being a nuisance, the thoughts continue. Carmy's pops the crumb coats in the freezer for a quick set. They don't actually like any of this. They're just being nice to make you feel better.

They seemed happy to me, he thinks, but he's faltering. He's washing the dishes, and the sensation of the warm water feels distant. They loved the food I made.

Couldn't you tell they were lying? He doesn't understand why these thoughts are rampaging through his head now of all times. It's not unfamiliar, but it's inconvenient. Keep this up, and you'll actually be surprised when they drop you.

Without warning, a memory hits him . As his hands drip with soap, he's reminded of playing with Michael and Sugar in the summer when he was five. Or six, or seven, he's never quite sure. They were outdoors at a local park, and the heat made the metal of the playground searing hot to the touch.

He was blowing bubbles, and the sticky mixture from the bottle was getting all over his hands. In his memory, Carmy watches the way the iridescent bubbles floated away and left little circles on the surface of the plastic slide. He can't remember why he wasn't playing with the others. He can remember the sound of their laughing voices in the distance, gleeful and delighted without him. He thinks he tried to join in, but it didn't work. It often just didn't work, and it was all his fault. 

The memory ends, and Carmy's finished washing the dishes. 

This is working, he thinks to himself. His hands are dried out from the hot water and soap. I swear to you, it's working. So just stop. Okay?

There's no response. Good enough. 

He hears the door opening as soon as he's putting the finishing touches on the cake. With a damp paper towel, he carefully swipes away stray drops of frosting that fell onto the cake stand. He thinks it's best described as if a tiramisu was turned into a devil's food cake. It's not the best cake he's ever made, but it's definitely up there in terms of looks. All the components of the cake tasted good separately, so he hopes it makes sense in his mouth as much as it did in his head. 

“Have a nice nap?” He asks before he turns his head. They're standing in the hallway, bed hair hastily tied back.

“Sorta. It was okay.” Their eyes are glued onto the cake as they walk up to the island. “Is this…?”

“This is for you, yeah,” he finishes for them. They take a seat on one of the chairs at the island. “It's a, uh, devil's food cake with vanilla mascarpone cream on the inside. The outside's this coffee buttercream…” He trails off, not knowing what else to say. He could mention the dutch processed cocoa powder, the expensive vanilla bean pods, or the endless sifting, but it feels too gratuitous. 

“Wow…” They're still staring, as if it's not quite real to them. “I can't believe this is for me. It almost looks too pretty to eat, but you know I can't wait to tear into this.”

“We could, uh, have it now, if you, if you want,” he says hesitantly. 

“I don't know if I could wait.” Their smile grows wider. “You even put candles on it?”

“We don't have to light them or anything if you don't want to,” he adds quickly. 

“The candles are the fun part. I don't mind that. The song is…okay I guess, but…” They give him an expectant, excited look. “Were you gonna sing for me?”

“...Only if you wanted to,” he mumbles, suddenly stricken with embarrassment. 

“Would that be okay? If I wanted that?”

“I wouldn't mind.” Not if it's you.

“Okay. Then, yeah.” They pull out a lighter from their pocket. “I’d really like that.”

Carmy cuts the overhead lights before taking out his own lighter to help them light the rest of the candles. One by one, the dark room gradually illuminates until it's filled with a warm, orange glow. The flickering flames cast shifting shadows onto their smiling face and reflect into their glossy eyes. 

“Ready?” He asks quietly. 

“I'm ready,” they whisper. 

Carmy doesn't really need to clear his throat, but he does so anyway. He can't recall the last time he sang happy birthday to anyone, let alone by himself. This is the first time he's ever sung in front of an audience, too. 

I can do this, he thinks to himself. I can do this.

His voice is awkward and scratchy. He never uses it like this, has never sang for anyone in his life. His ears burn, and he hates the sound of his voice, but he reminds himself to focus on their delighted little smile and warm gaze. The room is far too quiet for his voice, making the words painfully clear. 

“Happy birthday to you,” he finishes singing, voice trailing off awkwardly. He's more than ready to finish singing now. “Uh, make a wish…?”

“Right.” The two of them sit in the flickering candle light for a moment longer, the silence thick. Carmy watches their face, their eyes boring into the candles with an expression he can only describe as longing. Then, they blow out the candles with a decisive blow, and the room goes dark. 

He moves to switch on the lights. When he turns back to look at them, tears are streaming down their face. 

“Hey,” he says softly. He props his elbows on the counter, standing across from them and tilting his head to the side. They're not meeting his gaze, glazed eyes boring into the dripping candles. “What's wrong?”

“I'm sorry,” they whisper with a sniffle, and it sounds like a reflex. Something about them suddenly seems so much smaller. “I shouldn't be crying.”

“It's okay. I don't mind.” That makes them smile, even if it's shaky. “Was the singing too much?”

“No, it wasn't your singing,” they say with a laugh. “Your singing was lovely. It's just—I'm so happy. You made today so special.”

“Yeah?” He fights the urge to reach over and wipe their tears. “I'm glad. I wanted to make it good. I…” He hesitates. “...I didn't like the idea of you spending it alone.”

“I didn't either. And I thought I was going to have to be alone…but then you—then you took off work, and you made me breakfast, you went shopping with me—even got me clothes—and now this—” Another rush of tears gushes from their eyes, and they hastily wipe at it with their shirt. 

“You've done way more for me. This is the least I could do.” Before he can stop himself, his hand is brushing hair out of their eyes. They freeze for a split second, eyes finally flickering up towards him. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It's okay,” they whisper back. “Um…” They let out a shaky sigh, the sort of trembling sound that happens after crying too much. “I feel like I should explain.”

“You don't have to if you don't want to,” he assures them quickly, “but I…I'd like to know. If that's okay.”

“I want you to know. I, I do.” They open their mouth to keep talking, but shaky breaths continue to stifle them. It's hard to watch.

“Breathe,” he reminds them, quietly. He visibly takes in a deep breath, silently encouraging them to breathe with him. They follow suit, closing their eyes and taking a slow breath. Tears slip silently from their eyes. Gradually, their breathing becomes less of a staccato, evening out into something much more manageable. 

“Thank you,” they murmur. He nods. They already sound a lot calmer. “I'm not sure where to start. I…I suppose I'll start with today.” Another deep breath. “I didn’t get a call from my parents today.”

“Ah…” The first missing piece.

“I knew they weren’t going to. But a part of me still hoped…” They stop and shake their head. “It's the first year that it's been like this.”

“What happened?”

“Uh…I went no contact with my family about a year ago.” Another pained, hollow laugh. The second piece. “I didn't even really want to—it was a complicated, shitty situation. My parents were being their usual shitty selves, and I just wanted them to apologize. It was over such a small thing, and, and I just…I don't know. I thought maybe I could fix things.” He's never seen them with such a heavy expression, etched with such weariness. “I just wanted them to apologize to me, Carm. That's all I wanted. And then they cut me off cold.”

Their voice is trembling again, and the tears are falling faster. The collar of their shirt is dark with moisture. Carmy hates that he doesn't know what to say. He hates just staring at them, silent as he tries to find the words. 

Suddenly, he thinks of Michael. 

“Michael never let me work in the restaurant,” he tells them. “That's why I went to culinary school. A big part of it, anyway. He just cut me off, didn't let me in no matter what I did, and it was…” He makes a vague hand gesture. “I felt insane. I was so fucking angry. I couldn't understand him. And I'm not saying that's anything like what you've been through, but…” He looks into their watchful eyes. “I'm sorry. I think I'm trying to say that I, that I understand. A little.”

“I…I appreciate that.” They give him a small, wobbly smile. He adores their smile, but seeing it through their tears twists something painfully in his chest. “He would've been lucky to have you. You're an excellent chef.”

“I am now, anyway.” He sighs. “Your family's missing out on you, too. You're…” Say it. Just say it. “You're a really wonderful person. I can't imagine…”

I can't imagine anyone looking at you and not loving what they see, he thinks suddenly, and he instantly realizes he can't say it. He can barely even comprehend that he just thought it. 

He can't process this right now. This isn't the time. 

“I keep trying to wrap my head around it all, wondering what I did wrong, what I could've done better… Sometimes, the conclusion I arrive at is that I must have done something to deserve this. That I just, I don't know, that maybe I'm just this permanent fuck-up, and…” They run a tired hand over their wet face, through their hair. “My parents fucked me up real good, man.”

There's something familiar about their words, and Carmy realizes it's because it sounds like him. He would've never guessed that under their easy-going smiles was a reflection of himself. He recognizes himself in their self-deprecation, the bone-deep pain. There was always a sense of sympathetic connection between the two of them, but he had no idea. He had no idea how far deep the mutual experiences went. 

A part of him still can't believe that this is the truth, that this is what lies at their core, but then he remembers. He thinks about the night they were throwing up into the toilet. They were sobbing, crying into his shoulder about how much they hate themself. 

“You know you didn't deserve it. Right?” Carmy's not sure when they started leaning in so close to each other. He's looking at their wet eyelashes with startling clarity. “You did all you could.”

“You don't know that.” Their words are so soft-spoken, but it still catches him off guard. “You don't know what happened.”

“You—” Irritation prickles inside him, his instincts itching to snap back, but he doesn't. He sees himself in them, and he holds back. “You're right. I don't know what happened. But I know you.” The shock is on their face as clear as day. “At least, I think I do.”

“I want to think you do, too,” they whisper. “But this—this messy bullshit is also me. I wish it wasn't. I wish you didn't have to see all this. I…don't want you to…think any less of me.”

“I don't think there's anything you could do to make me think less of you.” He doesn't resist dragging his thumb across a stray tear on their cheek. To his surprise, they lean into his touch. “Y'know when I almost burned down the apartment?”

“Oh my god.” They smile, and he feels their grinning cheek against his palm. “Yeah. Is it crazy to say I remember it fondly?”

“A little bit.” They laugh. It's quiet, but it's real. “Remember that talk we had after?”

“I do. Why?”

“You're allowed to mess up on onions,” he says softly. “It won't push me away.”

They stare at him for what feels like a long time. Their eyes refill with tears, but they don't spill. With a clammy hand, they shakily place their hand on top of his hand that's still cradling their wet cheek.

“Fucking onions,” they say finally with a wet laugh. Fresh tears drip onto his thumb, and he wipes them away again. As many times as it takes. “God damnit, Carmy.”

“No one deserves to have shitty parents, let alone ones that walk out on them.” He thumbs away more tears. “You being an imperfect person like everyone else doesn't justify that.”

“There must be something more I could've done,” they whisper. “Something I did wrong.”

“Maybe. But they're your parents, not the other way around. It's not your fault.”

“I know. I know that. I do. There just has to be a reason, because—fuck—the truth would just be too fucked up.”

“...And that is?”

It takes a long, still minute before they can get their words out.

“...It’s—it's that—” Their cries are verging on sobs, increasingly more staggered and uncontrollable. “It's that s-some kids—are just—some kids have parents that will never—never love—”

They can't finish. Their sobs have overtaken their whole body. Their body's hunched over the counter, curled into themself. Carmy can't think of a time where he's ever seen them crying so hard.

Without another word, Carmy pulls them into a hug. 

They cry for a long time. Through it all, fleeting condolences pass Carmy by in his head, but they all feel too cheap, too meaningless. So all he does is hold them tight, letting them grab onto his shirt and soak the fabric on his shoulder. It's all he feels he can really do. 

After a while, the tide subsides. He feels them wilting in his arms, exhausted from sobbing so violently. He doesn't actually want to let them go, but their sniffling nose sounds like it's completely stopped up. 

“I'm gonna get you some tissues, ok?” He says quietly. They make a quiet noise of acknowledgement, and they pull back. He snatches up a box of tissues from the coffee table. He places it in front of them before grabbing them a glass of water. 

“Thank you,” they mumble, voice scratchy. Carmy stands and watches as they blow through several tissues. The water gets downed instantaneously. 

“Better?”

“Yeah. A lot better.”

“Good.”

“...I think, deep down, I know I didn't deserve what happened. Or just having shitty parents in general.” They sigh. “It's just easier to think that I do. That I deserve it.”

“...Yeah.” That resonates with a part of him he's not quite ready to acknowledge. “You're one of the kindest people I've ever met,” he admits quietly. “If someone like you deserves a shitty hand in life, I'm fucked.”

“Carmy…” Their smile is small, but genuine. “Thank you. I want to be able to genuinely believe that, one day. I'm going to try.”

“I know. I get it.”

“I know you do.” 

That makes both of them smile, even if it's bitter. 

“Thanks for telling me. About everything.”

“No, thank you for listening. For just being there for me.” They prop their chin in their hands, their elbows resting on the counter. “Y'know, this past year, I've been trying to find a sense of joy in all this mess. Sometimes it just feels so far away, like…like any happiness is just impossible. But I think I've found it. Rather, I've already found it.”

“Yeah?” Carmy looks at them expectantly, but he never expected this—

“I found you,” they tell him. 

“...” He immediately fixes his shocked expression. He's at a loss for words. 

Me?

“I never found a chance to mention it, but…my parents are the reason I decided to live with you. That's why I wanted to be your roommate, even though we were strangers.” They shrug shyly. “My lease was up on my last place. I was gonna go home, but then all that stuff happened at the last minute, and…yeah. I needed to find a place to live.”

“Seriously?” They just nod. “Damn. Uh…Yeah, that's fucking crazy. I had no idea.”

“At the time, I was miserable. I kept thinking to myself, ‘I can't believe how shitty this situation is!’ Don't get me wrong, it was fucking awful, but…it led me to you, so…it wasn't really all that bad, in the end. I got lucky.”

Fucking hell, he thinks to himself. Fuck.

“If you hadn't roomed with me, I wouldn't have been able to come back home for my brother's restaurant,” he says, mostly because he's so embarrassed that he swears his whole body's red at this point. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. “I think I'm the lucky one.”

“Can't we both be lucky?”

“I guess we can. Just doesn't seem very realistic.”

“Little too late to say that. It's already real.”

“...There's no other shoe?”

“Not that I know of. I think the other shoe's already dropped for us a while ago. Surely there's no other shoes left?”

“I hope not. I don't know if I could take another one.”

“Me neither.”

“...”

“...”

“Do you…want to eat your cake now?”

“Fuck, oh my god—I completely forgot! Yes!”

Just as Carmy planned, the flavors go perfectly together. Even though he knew it was going to be delicious, when he takes the first bite of the cake, relief washes over him. They seem to be overjoyed, inhaling the cake at dangerous speeds. 

“You're gonna hurt yourself if you eat that fast,” he observes, both amused and concerned. 

“Can't talk. Need to eat this.” That makes him laugh so abruptly he nearly gets cake up his nose. “This is the best birthday cake I've ever had, both visually and taste-wise.”

“I'm glad. Like I said, I'm not really a baker, but…I make an alright cake.”

“You make a fantastic cake.” They’ve got a bit of frosting on the corner of their mouth. “It doesn't get much better than this—eating a cake made by you.”

“Because I'm a chef, you mean?”

“No, not that. Not just that, anyway,” they amend with a cheeky grin. “Because you're my best friend.”

You're my best friend.

…

I'm their best friend, he repeats to himself. I'm their best friend.

He thinks about crying. He won't cry, but he thinks about it.

“Oh,” he replies intelligently. “...Really?”

“Y-Yeah. Unless, uh, you don't—”

“You're my best friend too,” he blurts out, and the anxiety on their face fades away into a relieved, beautiful smile. 

“Thank god. That would've been pretty awkward if you didn't…” They shake their head. 

“I've never been anyone's best friend before,” he confesses. 

“Seriously?” They recover from the shock quickly. “Lucky me, then.”

“I thought you established we were both the lucky ones.” 

“Oh, right.” They chuckle. “Lucky both of us, then.”

Carmy thought that life would always be the same. He thought that he was fated to a routine of nausea and nightmares, never quite close enough to reach a rest point. He thought that he was okay with it being his fate, because he never knew anything else. 

He thought that loneliness, cigarettes, and memories would be enough, because it always stays the same. Nothing ever changes. 

Until them. 

He thought he had outgrown happiness, that his body had grown accustomed to living without it. That there was no longer space in his heart to withstand the weight of joy. But as he sits here with his roommate, chatting and laughing over a cake he made for them, he finds that's not true.

His capacity for happiness had never left. It had been there all along. 

And with that, something in him lets go.

Carmy sees it all at once. It starts from the beginning—he sees the first day he met them, an initially hesitant meeting gone surprisingly well. He sees the first time the two of them smoked together, deliriously laughing through shared smoke. He sees them in the mornings, messy hair and wrinkled t-shirts. He sees them in nothing but an apron. He sees them in tight black clothes that leave little to the imagination. He sees them laughing at a joke that he didn’t think was all that funny. 

He sees them in his dreams, red tomato puree bleeding from their gums. He sees them holding his trembling hands in theirs, soothing him back down from the storm in his hand. He sees them comforting him through his tears. He sees them sobbing, hot tears on their cheek and his hand. He sees them heaving into the toilet, whispering that they want to know him. He sees himself, embracing them tightly in his arms. 

He sees it all. He knows that he can't avoid it anymore. 

Carmy is completely, undeniably in love with them, and there is absolutely nothing that he can do to make that realization disappear.

…Some things, he understands, refuse to stay the same.

~

@zorrasucia @carmenberzattosgf @carmenbrzatto @thehouseofevangelista

[thebluester2020]

[SDV] Infection AU

Summary: It was supposed to be another day on the farm. You'd wake up, check the mail, feed the animals, maybe even go into town to pick up some new seeds! But...when the wizard suddenly appears at your door to tell you that a mysterious plague had fallen upon Pelican Town and Ridgeside Valley, causing the townspeople to morph into hideous flesh-eating creatures while also emboldening the monsters of the Mines and Ridge to come out and attack all who aren't affected, you and your spouse stand as one of the few who aren't amongst the affected but...how do you both survive such a horrid new reality?

Warning(s): Some explicit character death (I've played Dead Space y'all, I'm not holding back on kids being man-eating monsters), Some good ol' angst, the Farmer really shines as a monster-slayer here, Y'all are gonna hate me for Shane's part and I'm not elaborating on that,

Note(s): I've been CRYING out for someone to make an Infection AU of Stardew ever since I saw it trend for MLP on TikTok. But hey, as they say, want something done? Do it yourself ig. I decided to only include three bachelors because A. I want to make a part 2 sometime since it's way too long as it is tbh and B. I NEED TO MAKE FANART OF THIS AU DUDE. I LOVE ZOMBIES AND DEAD SPACE MONSTERS

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

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About a week ago, Marlon had told you that an emergency commission had come up, one that was apparently so important that it needed to be put as your main priority over any other commissions you may have had at the moment. At the time, you didn't have a mind to think much of it when he explained the nature of the commission, that it was brought forth to him by an anonymous source. The commission spoke of a monster, one that displayed an "Alpha-like" nature over the rest of the monsters and was far more aggressive than the others.

Since the moment you took on this commission and began searching for this mysterious creature, you had a mind to think that Marlon was finally beginning to lose his sanity as you hadn't once spotted this mysterious creature...at least, until it was too late.

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Sebastion : "The Long Walk Home"

You couldn't sleep.

You had been tossing and turning in your bed for hours before you finally decided to get up and go to the mines. And the culprit for your sleepless night? The emergency commission that was thrown to you by Marlon around two weeks ago. The fine details of the commission were forgotten by you by now but basically, the older man had went on and on about how this creature was a major threat to not just the region of Stardew Valley but potentially everywhere close to it!

The monster was described to be as big as a fully-grown Pepper Rex. Thankfully it was unable to breathe fire but it came with a different quirk, which was the fact it had a disgusting ooze about its skin. One that was rumored to make you dizzy and eventually burning with rage if you breathed in the smell for too long.

If you were to be honest with yourself, you thought Marlon was exaggerating a little.

And that thought only grew more and more as you continued to search through the deeper levels of the cavern with your poor spouse trailing behind you.

"What's this monster called again?" Sebastion said from behind you.

The two of you had been searching for hours now, looking under every rock and peeking into any crevice you could find in hopes of at least getting some type of hint as to what this creature was and where it may have been. "Don't know," You yawned. "Marlon didn't give me a name, just a description." You said, patting your cheeks to try and keep yourself awake as you started to feel a bout of sleepiness wash over you.

"It's really important and really dangerous as well." You added on before you looked behind you. "You know, you didn't have to come...you know that right, Sebby?"

Your husband flashed you a shy smile. When he had drowsily woken up to the blurry sight of you putting on your boots and clothes, grabbing your weapon from the weapon's rack. He stopped you and insisted on coming along with you. It wouldn't have been his first time venturing into the mines, especially in regards to the deeper levels, and he was good with a sword as well! But, more than anything? If this creature was so dangerous...he couldn't bear the thought of you facing it by yourself, even if he wasn't up to your level in terms of swordsmanship.

He at least wanted to offer support.

"I didn't have to but I wanted to. I won't let my spouse face a boss-level monster alone." The joke made you giggle a little before you stopped in your tracks and sighed.

"Well..." You took out your phone to check the time.

It was going on three in the morning and you had a busy day tomorrow. You had planned to visit the Skull Cavern in search of more iridium as well as buy some more Starfruit seeds from Sandy! "Think we should call it a night? I'm getting sleepy and I want to take a shower."

Your husband's brow rose a little. "You sure? You've been at this commission for around a week now, right? Maybe tonight is when you can finally finish it."

As he sheathed his sword, you snickered teasingly as you pinched his cheek, resulting in the man's cheeks beginning to tint ever so slightly. "I've taken longer on other things, besides, I feel bad making you trail after me. Plus, I don't think it would be a good idea to face a boss level monster while we're both tired as shit, right?"

Sebastion nodded his head in agreement before the two of you started off in the direction of the ladder. He never minded following you, no matter how long it took, in his eyes? Spending even a single millisecond longer around you was much more preferred compared to spending that time all by himself similar to how he did in the basement. But, once the two of you were out of the mines and felt the cool night air on your skin once again...immediately, you felt that something was...off.

When things suddenly became too quiet in the mines, you knew that there was something dangerous in the air.

The same could be applied to the outside. More or less, you don't think you'd ever felt unsafe out in the town but...tonight was different.

So, you slowly unsheathed your sword. "What is it?" Sebastion said.

"Something's not right- GAH!" You suddenly shouted and dropped your weapon when the wizard suddenly appeared in front of you, making you fall to your bum as your chest heaved up and down in fright.

But as you quickly picked up your sword and got up, about to tell the man off. Your words caught in your mouth when you noticed the wizard's appearance. He looked...bloodied and bruised, scratched in some places too. A stark difference from the typically noble and wise air he gave off. "Farmer, are you and your spouse okay?" He quickly asked as he checked you over.

Your eyes widened as he took your arm and looked you over. "W-We're fine..." You answered before he then walked over to Sebastion, looking over him like a worried mother hen. "Why? What's wrong? Why are you bloody?"

"Something's happened," He said. "The townspeople...they're-"

Your blood ran cold. "What happened?" Sebastion asked for the both of you.

"The townspeople-" A shrill yet guttural howl rang out through the air, interrupting the wizard and causing him to suddenly raise his hand before a strange see-through rune appeared out of thin air near the entrance into the mines.

"Why did you-"

"Half of the town is dead," The wizard said, a little bit more quietly this time. "There's some type of...virus going through the air. It's turning the townspeople into twisted versions of themselves."

Your breath caught in your throat as your mind immediately went to the monster you and your husband were just searching for a few minutes ago. "I-Is it...is it related to the-"

"No," You let a sigh of relief. "The virus is related to the Shadow people, however, that creature that you were tasked to kill may have been a variant of them."

A guttural roar from outside made all three of you jump, your heart pounding in your chest as you took Sebastion and tried to lead him to the train cart. "Well then, as fun as it is to talk to you wizard...we need to go-"

"I wouldn't recommend the train cart." He said.

Sebastion looked back. "Why?"

"Because the creatures are fast enough to keep up with a moving train cart."

You clenched your free hand, exhaling through your nose. "Then what do we do?"

"You sneak back to your farmstead. I have placed a barrier around your farm, protecting your animals and eventually you and your spouse's until you return."

"What about the monsters?"

"The barrier seems to have made the area invisible to their eye. So far, they haven't gone near."

Your attention then went to Sebastion as the prospect of sneaking back to your farm to avoid a horde of monster-turned-villagers was...frightening to say the least. Sure, you've had moments in the Mines where you've snuck past monsters and managed to somehow fool ghosts but this? You couldn't help the chill that went throughout your body, especially seeing as your spouse was going to be right there beside you. "Sebastian." You said.

Although he didn't look at you on account of looking down at the ground, his brows furrowed in thought. He at least hummed in acknowledgment of his name. "What are you thinking?" You continued.

"This is dangerous."

You scoffed, that was putting it mildly. "No kidding, but...I'm worried about you. The quickest way back to our farm is past your family's home and-"

Although you didn't continue with your sentence, Sebastion understood what you meant. You were afraid for him, you were afraid for his family and the potential happening that they were...not human anymore. You didn't wish that type of pain upon anyone, especially your husband. And if the both of you needed to take a longer, more dangerous route to hopefully keep his sanity safe. You were willing to make that sacrifice.

Eventually, Sebastion sighed. "I'm fine," He said before fully turning to you. He rubbed his hands up and down your arms. "Right now? You're my most important family, so long as you're safe? I'll live, I'll be okay."

"That's not what I meant-"

"You two," The wizard interjected gruffly. "The night wears on, it grows more dangerous by the minute and I need to try and secure as many more areas as I can. You must leave."

You both nodded in his direction before you looked back at Sebastion. "Ready?"

"No," He dryly chuckled before his hand rested on his weapon. "But, I have your back."

"Good luck you two, I'll make sure to check back in with you both in a few days."

When the wizard disappeared, so did the rune that was on the exit of the cave. Allowing you and Sebastion to quietly tiptoe out of the cave and...out into the silent night.

And by Yoba's name, it was eerie. You wanted to suspect that the Adventurer's Guild would be hustling and bustling by now, maybe Marlon would be attempting to gather as many weapons in a bid for them to be readily available for anyone who would need them. Maybe he'd be trying to make sure Gil was safe but...as you slapped a hand over your mouth to withhold a gasp, you saw the blood splatters on the ground.

Had he...

Sebastion came up behind you to gently shield your eyes away from the sight, gently urging you to keep walking. "C'mon," He whispered as the two of you made your way to the steps where the blood splatters continued to grow in frequency as well as the amount of blood that was shed until...you started to spot oddities with the blood.

On the side, there was purple blood, the stench was terrible. Like cow dung mixed with charcoal. A little further up near the curve of the path next to the bridge that lead over the small stream was a weapon, Marlon's sword no doubt, before more blood splotches started to appear again only...slowly but surely, they morphed into a more purplish color- "Hide," You whisper-yelled as you dragged Sebastion into some bushes the second you heard a deep clicking from up ahead.

Quickly the two of you crouched down, you took up the task of just barely peeking out from behind the bushes to get a good look of what was making the sound until...you saw it.

Easily, it stood as tall as a fully grown Pepper Rex and it walked on four legs like one too.

Its entire form was the shade of a raven's feather and it hulked with muscle lurking underneath its seemingly armored skin. Yet a peculiar detail to note was its lack of a mouth before your eyes trailed down to its paws where claws as long as your forearm lay, bloodied and some even having remnants of skin still stuck to the tips of them.

But...when you looked back at the face of the stalking creature.

Then you noticed the scar over one of its glowing purple eyes.

'Marlon...' You thought as your eyes started to brim with tears.

But the creature- or...Marlon didn't stay around for very long. He only looked side to side with a hiss before it stalked onwards, its thudding footsteps slowly fading away.

You and Sebastion waited a few more minutes until you finally decided it was safe enough to keep moving. Your hearts pounded in your chests as you made your way across the small bridge, each squeaky step setting off an alarm bell within you that screamed out that you were going to get caught any second. But, thankfully, the next long stretch of road was where Robin's home was.

Maybe- "Hey," Sebastion whispered before he pulled you to the side, around a corner where you both were decently hidden from sight.

"Should we stop by my mom's house? Maybe-"

"Of course," You didn't have to be convinced to see inside your in-laws house. Though, for whatever reason Sebastion wanted to, you yourself just wanted to check up on his parents and his half-sister. If everything hadn't gone to complete shit yet then...they'd still be alive and you could take them with the both of you and let them live on your farm.

"We'll need to be careful though." You sighed as your mind flashed back to Marlon, taking out your weapon.

"Y/N, they haven't-"

Your eyes narrowed. "I thought that way too, with Marlon." Sebastion huffed. "I'm keeping the weapon out," You pressed before you resumed taking the lead, your weapon out in front of you as the two of you lightly jogged until you were at Robin's house where...everything seemed to be fine.

Aside from the lights being out that is.

"Maybe they're sleeping?" You said, hopefully.

"We can go in through the garage." Without another word, your husband crouched down and tried to gently open the garage, the harsh squeaking making him and you freeze in your places for a second before he continued a little more until it was high enough for the both of you to squeeze under. But, once the two of you were in you slowly opened the door to the inside of the house.

Still, it was so eerily quiet...like death was waiting just around the corner.

"Get some food from the kitchen, I'll watch-"

"I'm fine," Sebastion said, gesturing to the sword on his hip. "I'll see if there's anything just...please, make sure my mom and sister are okay. Wake them up, anything."

You nodded your head before you walked off and looked around the house.

Your first stop was Sebastion's old room. You slowly creaked open the door and all you saw was nothing, nothing but Sebastion's old things and the smell of growing dust in the air.

So, you turned your attention to upstairs.

All before you stopped the second you heard dripping sounds upon the wooden floor. Your breath caught in your throat and your mouth went dry the second your mind immediately flipped back to Marlon and his monster-turned state, if it could happen to him then...it was obvious it could happen to anyone. But, for the sake of your husband? You prayed to whatever god was listening to you at this moment that his family hadn't experienced a similar fate.

Yet as you followed the noise all the way until you reached the end of the hallway, where you could see Robin and Demetrius' door slightly ajar. You tried to quietly tiptoe your way to the door before your jaw nearly dropped to the floor. An organ hung from the top of the door, the dripping noise being the- the blood...a gorey trail of flesh, blood, and even more intestines trailed all the way to the bed where...there Robin and Demetrius' bodies lay as a monster feasted upon whatever was still left inside of their cracked open stomachs.

What do you tell Sebastion?

Do you even tell him at all?

He couldn't know about this...you saw it in his eyes, the worry and concern he had for his sister and mother.

He'd be beyond heartbroken and you didn't think you had the strength to tell him, not right now when...maybe, j-just maybe you were seeing things. And you, oh so desperately, tried to convince yourself that you didn't see Robin and Demetrius' crops as you slowly continued to back up until you were in the kitchen once more where Sebastion was currently putting different canned foods in a backpack he must've taken out from his room.

"Did you see anything?"

You immediately tried to wash off the horror on your face. "N-Nothing," You stammered. "Just...nothing, it was dark."

As Sebastion slung the backpack over his shoulders, his brow quirked up a little. "Are you sure? You look like you saw something, you can tell me."

You shook your head again, placing your hands on his arms before you gently leaned your forehead into his chest. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you shook your head. "No...I-I'm fine, I promise. I'm just still- I'm still thinking about e-earlier, M-Marlon and all."

"Oh," He gently rubbed his hand in a circle on your back. "Everything's going to be fine." He said. "We'll always come out on top, okay?"

Although you nodded your head to try and get him to follow you out of the house quicker, you couldn't help but doubt him just a little.

Robin and Demetrius were gone and his sister was turned.

You don't think that image would ever leave your head, those familiar traits of Maru still present despite her warped form. Like how Maru's form still had traces of that familiar purple undershirt she'd wear over her overalls or how there seemed to be cracked pieces of glass on her face, illuminated by the faint light of the moon.

However...one day you'd gain the courage to tell your husband what you really saw, for as you slowly approached the end of the path that led onto the farm.

Your only focus was making sure the two of you survived from now on.

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Sam : "Pack Starter"

How did the apocalypse start?

A seemingly simple and straightforward question. But in truth? Depending on the person at least, it was rather broad and filled with so many possibilities, all depending on where you were personally from the start.

For some? They may have not first noticed that anything was amiss. Perhaps they were out in the woods taking a hike or maybe at home sleeping, looking at a movie rather than trying to watch the news! It would be a normal day or not until all they saw was...carnage.

Others, their start may have been more brutal. Being out in the city or in a place where a lot of people gathered was a rather "in your face" start to the end of the world. People would be screaming in terror as they ran for their lives, trampling happening at every turn as everyone would quickly turn to making sure they stayed alive and worried about other people last.

Perhaps some would take the new world and quickly decide on doing the essentials.

Rushing for weapon stores and grabbing anything that they could.

Food.

Maybe even to see their families.

All valid but...completely unlike how your introduction to the end of the world was for the apocalypse came to you last. It was peaceful in Pelican Town, about a few hours away from the nearest city! Nothing extreme happened here unless you wanted to count your trips to the Mines, the Skull Cavern, or even Louis and Marnie's not-too-secret relationship.

Of course, that was until tonight happened.

Where you were rushing door to door with Marlon after he woke you up by pounding on your front door and screaming to get up and grab your weapon.

You didn't need to be told the exact details to know that it was bad.

Despite your groggy, freshly awoken state. You made the immediate moves to barricade and secure your farm from whatever threat made Marlon's hair turn grayer than gray, but...when you had spotted one of the monsters outside of your farm. Your memory of your commission flashed back to you, of what you were supposed to do but the monster was as elusive as a slippery fish. The creature seemed to size you up and down almost, all before it slipped away and rushed to terrorize someone else.

"Fuck," You had whispered after locking the last barn door before your legs carried you back to your home to see if your husband, Sam had waken up yet. "Sam!" You cried out as you slammed the door open, expecting him to still be deeply asleep in your bed, ready to be woken up by you until...he wasn't.

Panic immediately filled your being as a cold sweat broke out on your forehead.

He was just here.

The both of you were cuddled up beside one another until you got up to open the door.

"Sam?" You went to another part of the house, upstairs this time. "Sam!? Sam! Where are you!?" You cried out. As you rushed all around the house like a headless chicken, you felt like a madperson. You were cursing at yourself, you should've checked on him first before anything else! Yet as you tried to slow yourself down and think, consider the options of where he may have gone, your mouth became dry inside of your mouth as you thought of the one place you knew he'd most likely immediately go the second anything went wrong in this town.

Home.

And with your answer, you took the extra few minutes to shuffle into clothes more suited for running rather than your bedtime clothes before you dashed in the direction of town. And when you arrived...the sight of multiple fires and the scent of ash filled your senses as you looked around.

Monsters that resembled four-legged versions of shadow people roamed the cobblestone streets. Howling in triumph as some carried bodies within their large jaws whilst others tried to scratch and claw their way into homes that seemed to be locked and barricaded securely. However, as you quickly crouched behind a bush, a creature stomped its way by.

You got the faintest peek at its claws.

Like daggers, you thought. Sharp enough to cut straight through a tree without even breaking a sweat. And as your eyes continued to tail the creature, it walked through fire without even seeming to let out a noise resembling pain.

The lava katana that you tightly gripped within your palm.

You couldn't help the slight feeling of fear that began to grip you at the thought that a powerful weapon like yours couldn't even think to burn it at the very least.

But, you shook the thought from your head as you pressed forward, sneaking down the same path you would've usually taken to get to Sam's house until you heard a shrill scream, causing you to pick up the pace every so slightly until...your stomach lurched at the sight of blood and innards.

Blood flooded the once heavenly green grass and intestines littered the streets, walls of homes and dangled from the tops of fences. Effectively turning the town into hell on earth until you finally reached the street Sam's home was on, causing you to stand up straight and- "Sam!" You screamed before you could think when you saw him kneeling, his body shaking ever so slightly here and there until you quickly slowed down when...

When you saw Jodi, her ribcage was exposed and cracked open as she was feasted upon a smaller version of the monsters you saw earlier.

Yet...you recognized that yellow and red striped shirt- or at least, the tatters of it that hung off from the creature. Its smaller yet nonetheless sharp claws bloodied as the body of Kent lied not too far away from his wife's.

"S-Sam..." You said gently, almost a whisper as you both tried to get to him first as well as not disturb the monster from its meal. "Honey, l-let's go. Please."

"Vincent..." Those were the first words he uttered, his voice shaky and clearly holding back a sob. "Vincent." He repeated.

This time, the creature looked up with a tilt of its head and a strange insect-like chitter. All before it slowly moved away from its meal and started to stalk towards Sam.

You readied your weapon, your eyes narrowing as you recognized that hunter-like crouch from similar monsters, both in the Mines and the Skull Cavern.

"B-Buddy?" Sam said, hopefully. "Vincent, we can fix this. Y-Y/N can help fix you, they know a lot of things! They can help, we can bring Mom and Dad-" Before you knew it, the monster launched itself towards Sam with a high-pitched snarl, causing you to spring into action and shove Sam aside before you swung your sword.

"NO!" You heard Sam scream from the top of his lungs, your eyes wide and your sword dripping with black blood as the monster hung off the end of your sword for a moment before...it fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

Still.

Dead.

"S-Sam." You said once the shock started to wash off from you. "Honey, that-"

Sam answered with a sharp inhale as you could've sworn his normally soft blue eyes turned red when he glared at you, tears streaming down his face before he looked back at the creature. You were about to crouch down and try to comfort your husband, make him see where you were coming from and your reason for doing what you did until...you heard snarls from the distance.

You'd have to put your emotions to the side for a little while longer.

Sam, he was allowed to be upset at you for as long as he needed to until he understood.

And until you both got out of this situation alive.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Shane: "Supplies"

It was a hot summer's day today. The sun was beaming down upon you and the cicadas were screaming out for water like they've never had before, but while you would have welcomed the arrival of summer in the past. Nowadays? You couldn't help the sour taste it left inside of your mouth! It was harder to grow stuff, crops were dead and there was no longer a place to readily buy season appropriate seeds.

You had to make weekly rounds back to the old supplies store just to try and keep your family of three, plus the pets alive and that alone was a trip!

The monsters that had arrived a little over a year ago were vicious, hungry creatures that spared no mercy whether or not you were a child or an adult.

Too many times did you toss and turn in your sleep at night when you remembered the scratched up and limbless body of Vincent outside of Sam's house on the night everything started, how he cried and begged for his brother to wake up despite...well...everything.

Since then, you haven't seen Sam in a while.

Or anyone else for that matter.

The town was quiet as there was nothing but abandoned buildings and homes. Everyone had already left a while ago, hoping to escape the monsters and their terror but you- well, your spouse insisted on staying, stating that the two of you had a lot to live for here and that there was no point in moving away from everything you had worked so hard for! And to a certain extent? You agreed with him, your farm and animals provided more than enough food for the both of you.

There was still plenty of supplies to be had so long as you knew where to look and every now and again? When you went to the Mines, you were able to find lost items that helped in fortifying the area around your farm just a little bit more from the creatures!

But then again-

"Y/N," A voice chirped from below. "It's hot."

"It really is, isn't it?" You agreed with a sigh before you took off your sun hat and handed it to Jas. "Maybe this will cool you down? Sorry I don't have anything better Jas," You smiled sheepishly, the little girl only smiling gratefully in return as she proceeded to put on the hat that was far too big for her then.

Then again...Jas was still here.

Marnie died at the beginning of the attack upon the town. When you had defeated the monster, Shane had rushed into the farmstead and found Jas hugging her stuffed animal in the corner crying and wondering where Marnie was, from what he told you. And although the little girl had her moments of sadness...all things considered, she was taking things well.

Her new reality with monsters and not being able to go outside as she pleased anymore, at least, beyond the boundaries of your farm, she was taking it well.

"Alright Jas, c'mon." You crouched down to allow the girl to climb onto your back before you carried her the rest of the way to Pierre's shop. It was both a way of making sure she didn't get tired as well as a way that...if something was here, you'd be able to run as fast as possible without worrying whether or not she was keeping up. But, thankfully, the two of you reached Pierre's abandoned shop without too much of an issue, causing you both to go in through the broken window you've both been using for a while now before you rummaged around the shop.

Although it was easy to take as much as you could from the store and haul it all the way back home, safely avoiding multiple trips off the farm.

You thought it would be good for Jas, now that Vincent was no longer around due to...reasons. It was good for her to get off the farm once in a while with supervision. Not to mention, after you finished your "shopping", the two of you made it a routine to go the beach if you could! Anything to hopefully keep Jas' childhood as intact as it possibly could be.

"What do you want to eat tonight?" You asked after letting out a frustrated sigh after seeing the summer seeds in the back of Pierre's supplies were all crushed.

"Pizza!"

Did you still have tomato seeds? You were growing some in your greenhouse so there wasn't too much of a fear of running out of the produce anytime soon but...

"Alright," You eventually caved in after deeming it not too much of a waste of resources to make the item.

"I think...I think pizza would also make Uncle Shane happy too."

You sucked in your bottom lip at the mention of your husband. Before everything went to hell, you and him were dating, the two of you even discussed getting married at one point! Shane was getting help for his alcohol addiction and was going to therapy regularly! Everything seemed to be going nowhere but up for him and you couldn't be happier, yet...as of lately? He had been in a stump.

There was no more therapy.

No more avenues to find a healthy substitute for drinking.

You'd never seen someone crave the taste of a beer like Shane had and it was only your luck that you had a few forgotten cans in your cellar. It was keeping him sane for now but, you worried for him. You'd have to figure something out quick, for all his hard work to be crushed just because the world decided to end at an inopportune moment...not only would it crush you, you knew deep down that it would silently crush Shane as well.

Yet, you tried shooing those thoughts away from your head as you zipped up your backpack and waved your hand for Jas to follow you. "Good idea Jas," You smiled. "I'll make you and Uncle Shane the best pizza ever!"

.

.

.

You were glad that Jas had gotten distracted by a mother hen and her chicks when the pair of you arrived back to the farm.

You planned to call her back inside when dinner was ready.

But...as you gently closed the front door behind you, your eyes trailing over the path of destruction inside your house. The worse immediately came to mind.

A monster attack possibly, but...there would've been blood and most smashed items rather than just bottles.

Shane wasn't exactly the type to leave your home a mess, he was good at cleaning to the point you joked about him being better at cleaning than yourself!

So, as you flicked on the lights downstairs. There was only one possible answer- "Where is it? Where'd they put 'em?" You could hear Shane mumbling as he searched the corners, nooks, and crannies of the cellar.

The scent of alcohol was heavy in the air as the spilled contents from the kegs were all over the ground. Shane's speech was slurred and as he moved around, not even taking the time to notice your presence, he more so limped like a shot dog than walked! You tried to cool your simmering rage, biting your lip and clenching your fists as you wanted to scream every possible curse word in the book at him.

He destroyed weeks' worth of supplies.

Ruined the house.

Ruined your hard work in this cellar...

All for a drink.

"Shane," You said.

No response.

"Shane." You said again as you slowly began to make your way to him.

Still, he didn't dare to give you a response. Not until you stormed the rest of the way to the man and slapped a hand on his shoulder to get him to pay attention to you. "Shane!" You screamed into his ear, your chest heaving up and down as tears brimmed your eye line."

"H-How could you?! Our- my hard work...everything, why-"

Shane grumbled as he half-hazardly pushed you away. "Where did you put it?"

"What?"

"The rest of the drinks, I need a beer."

"Shane, please." You begged as you followed him around the room, both trying to control your surging temper as well as to get his attention. "Fucking goddamn listen to me!" You roared, your hand grabbing his shoulder and forcing him to turn around.

"Why, fucking goddamn tell me why you did all this!?"

"I need a drink." He repeated, slower than last time.

"You already tore into my kegs!? How much more do you need?!"

He didn't respond, going back to ignoring you but instead opting to go upstairs.

It seems that the end of the world had taken more from you in this very moment than anything else had in your entire life. Supplies, as well as a partner you thought you'd call your husband one day.

[prostocupoftea]

I have done what kinitopet fandom (probably) does not have but totally does (not) need... a CRIME AU! i am so sorry

Tw on poorly drawn guns, masks, scars, robbery police etc baisicly crime stuff

I have so much work why am i doing this... it is like 3 am...... aNYWAY---

More yapping and magnifyed parts under the cut

I was just literally sitting in the bus from uni and like "jeez can't imagine how those with full au-s abt tsp or kp, that must be so hard, i have one design and im already dying

And than i thought what au can i do for kinitopet

And here i am, 5 hours later with full ref-sheet and a little story idea in my head

Okay now to the au

It might be bad it might be okay-ish, well an okay-ish option is that they are like "Bad Guys"-ajesent group, you know, rob banks, skedadle with money, no killing, etc, all to make them redeamable, but, i mean.... they are horror charscters.... we all want our qute kinito but, u know...... he literally does not take "no" for an answer, just saying

So my idea is that maybe kinito does crime to get attentoin of that one detective, you know, "You" and does those "hello, you!" like he is talking to everyone while specifically naming You (((:

Aaand he is really in crime for that cat-n-mouse game, money are a bonus to do more crime with, he is just resl smart and wants to find soneone who is as intelligent as him and can catch him (or at least follow his clues)

Also they wear matching fake tatoos bc statistically most people are gonna notice a tatoo and they are gonna search you by it

And they have their secret normal lifes ofc bc why not

Sooooooo, i'll probably would never draw those guys again unless i guess y'all really like them, but in any case be free to take them and do whatev ya want, just tag/credit me (:

[miloformula123fan]

OSCAR BOY DAD BLURB

okay i love this :)

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

Oscar as a boy dad is a yes

(also some of these are gonna be similar to the girl dad blurbs)

But only the pregnancy part

He would be an angel during pregnancy

Always getting what you need

Whatever, whenever

And I mean whenever

And if he’s not there he will pull Mark out of bed to get you mangoes in the middle of winter

Mark doesn’t mind too much

Especially considering he’s godfather (and there’s probably a middle name thrown in as well)

Your son is now Oscar’s biggest fan

No choice

He’s doing all the sports

By the time he’s 1 he has all his teams worked out for every sport ever

NHL, AFL, Curling, figure skating (I do have a small idea for this with other f1 dads, lmk if you want this :) )

All of them.

He’s barely at any of the race weekends though

Preferring to keep him out of the public eye

But he is oscar’s biggest supporter

And is always at the aus grand prix

Your son isn’t pressured into getting into a kart

So he does the typical kid thing of trying everything before settling on karting and AFL

Ends up dropping AFL despite being really good at it

Maybe he replaces Oscar at McLaren (i cannot see him at any other team sorry)

(also i know my masterlist isn't up to date, I'll update it in a couple of days)

[604to647]

Safest with You (Ch. 12 - The Workout)

7.2K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: You and Din “work out” at Mando’s gym and you end up getting sick.

Warnings: 18+ content (MDNI please), reader ogles Din like a piece🥩, smut, unprotected PiV sex, semi-public sex (car), new-ish established relationship, dirty talk, light degradation, light daddy kink, pet names as usual (pretty bird, baby, sweetheart, bunny, etc.), description of flu symptoms (it's gross y'all), reader is described as shorter than Din and he strokes her hair while she's sick.

A/N: Oo! This is a long one; it's just because The Workout and The Cold used to be two chapters and I ended up shmushing them together. There was an ask about Din taking care of reader while she's vulnerable; I hope this chapter fulfills that ask! 🥰 Thank you as always for reading!

Series Masterlist

“You know, you can come work out at Mando’s, if you want.��

“Really?  That won’t be weird?  Like, I’m moving in on your space?”

“I like you in my space.”

Din says it like a simple statement of fact, not even looking up from the cutting board where he’s slicing the steak he grilled for dinner.  You’re not big on working out, but once in a while you just like to go for a run or a row and zone out to some TV; it’s not a regular thing so you don’t have a membership anywhere, and your building has a gym on the third floor that you can use whenever the urge strikes you (not often).  But this morning when you went downstairs, ready to put in the hour you needed to catch-up on your favourite trashy reality show, you had found a temporary closure notice on the gym entrance.

It's not a bad idea.  The weather is getting a bit chillier so your walks with Al haven’t been as long as both of you would like; it might be nice to have another option to get a little bit of exercise, “It’s okay if I just use the cardio machines?  I won’t use any of the weight lifting equipment or anything.”

“You can use whatever you like.  I’ll even have Jimmy fetch you water and towels.”

“Noooooo,” you make a face and shake your head.

“Yessssss,” he mimics you, “You’re the boss’ girl, you should be treated special.”

“You treat me special enough, for you and Jimmy both, thanks,” you say, still scrunching up your nose, but you tell Din you’ll take him up on his kind offer.

---

The next weekend, you leave Al snoozing on the Din’s bed and head down to the gym with the intention of saying hi to Din while he works, but also to run off some of the stress from the work week.  Like the gym in your building, there are enough empty machines so you have your pick, but unlike your gym, the patrons all seem to know one another and are treating their workouts like a social event.  Din’s helping out with the training today; you give him a little wave when you walk by the ring so not to distract him, and pick a treadmill off to the side so you can still see him and also simultaneously do some innocent people watching while you run.  Headphones on, your phone jacked in to the console so you can stream your show, you pick the program you want the machine to run and start your work out.

Your plan is almost immediately derailed.  As the familiar title sequence of your show starts to play, your eyes drift up past the screen and lock onto Din’s figure in the ring.  He’s sparring with Chris today; having already gone a few rounds while you were upstairs, both men are sweaty and breathing heavily, chests and shoulders heaving as they circle each other.  Din has sweated through his t-shirt so that it’s now sticking against his body, making him look even more immense than usual, and you openly gawk at the strong lines of his back and arms visible through the darkened fabric.  As if he’s somehow reading your mind, Din puts a pause on the bout in order to remove his wet shirt; it’s not an easy task given his gloves, but he manages it with some grace and the use of his teeth to pull and hold the collar.  When he finally whips the shirt over his damp curls, you’re treated to the sight of his thick, hard chest, glistening and flexing as he stretches out his arms; you feel a heat pooling below your abdomen and a flush spread across your chest that has nothing to do with your lackluster exercise efforts.

Far from doing any people watching like you had planned, you’re now struggling to make sure that you yourself don’t become a spectacle by openly drooling while you watch a shirtless Din fight in the ring.  Every one of his punches is quick and agile, arms extending perfectly to show off his control and precision; his muscles prominent and flexed, the veins on his forearms protruding as his gloved fists clench, ready for impact.  He’s a mammoth force, a powerhouse, somehow both immovable and unstoppable, and he looks good enough to eat.

You haven’t watched single a minute of your show and it’s actually getting to the point where the voices coming through your headphones are an unwelcomed distraction from the actual show you’re engrossed in, so you take off your headphones and place them next to your water bottle.  Big mistake.  Now, you can very clearly hear Din’s groans and pants as he ducks and punches.  It’s like the thirst trap video you’ve been watching all of a sudden turned up its pornographic soundtrack.  Din’s low, throaty grunts as he exerts himself, coupled with the words of praise you hear him shout out in his deep, encouraging baritone, have your mind running wild.

When Chris lands a hard punch to Din’s shoulder and you hear him grunt out, “Fuck!”, you nearly trip over your own feet. 

You’re pounding back your water, throat parched and sweating profusely, and you’re barely 20 minutes into the preselected program; you’re not even going to lie to yourself, the flush of your skin and your shortness of breath have absolutely nothing to do with this treadmill.  You’re about to admit defeat and cut the run short, thinking you could definitely benefit from a cold shower, when you see Chris and Din touch gloves, seemingly done training for the moment.  Din ducks under the ropes and starts taking off his gloves; as he walks past you, he throws a towel around his neck and you a quick wink.  Where is he going? You watch as he heads to the front of the gym, disappearing around the partition wall that rests between the front door and the main gym.

Without even thinking, you stop your machine, grab your things, and try to quickly and discretely follow.  You find Din outside, having put on a dry shirt, standing behind his truck with the trunk door opened above him as he rifles through the box full of equipment he keeps in the trunk.  Wordlessly, you put your things down on the trunk bed next to the box, surprising Din at your sudden appearance, “Hey pretty bird, what are you doing here?  It’s cold, you sh-“.  Taking his hand, you lead him to step back before pressing the auto-close button on the trunk door; as it folds down; you open the door to the back seat of the truck, and gently push Din to get in, with you following directly. 

Din chuckles as you situate yourself on his lap, straddling his thighs, looking at him with a hunger in your eyes, “Baby, what’s all th-?”.  He’s cut short when you silence him by throwing your arms around his neck and attach your lips to his, hard and hurried.  You’re embarrassingly pent up from the last 20 minutes of watching the hottest man you’ve ever known show off his power and skill on what was basically a stage you had a front row seat to, and now you need to feel the strength of those muscles on you, under you, fucking up into you.

“Want you,” you mumble against his lips, “…so turned on. Watching you.”  You’re barely able to string together your thoughts, you’re so consumed with exploring the cavern of Din’s mouth with your tongue, but Din gets the idea.  Feeling incredibly needy, you start lightly grinding down on Din’s lap, and he encourages you by placing his hands on your waist and helping guide your movements; even this light friction feels overwhelmingly good against your aching clit, and you throw you head back and cry out, unabashed and loud enough for anyone walking by Din’s car to hear. 

“Fuck, daddy, need you.  Please, please…” your mouth back to messy kissing Din’s as your hands thread through his damp hair, tugging at the curls at the base of his neck and earning you a deep growl from the back of his throat.

“Look at my desperate, pretty girl,” groans Din, eyes greedy as you take off your t-shirt, then your sports bra, letting your tits bounce in his face, “…can’t even go a whole work out without riding her daddy’s dick.”

Unable to wait another minute, you peel your wet shorts and panties off in one go, now completely naked, sweaty and panting on top of a still fully clothed Din. “Not my fault, daddy,” you pout as you press yourself down on Din’s clothed cock, making a wet mess of his gym shorts.  “You looked so fucking good in that ring, then you were making all those grunting noises. Couldn’t think of anything else but you filling me with your cock.  Ahh-,“ you gasp out loud as Din takes one of your nipples in his mouth, nibbling and rolling the sensitive bud between his teeth before sucking down and flicking it with his tongue.  You whine and increase the intensity and tempo of your movements while he moves to do the same to your other nipple, hand palming and tweaking the now abandoned breast.  Din’s free hand snakes its way down to your core only to find you slick with want, a sticky mess already coating your inner thighs and soaking through his shorts, “Messy, messy slut.  You get this wet just from watching me spar?  Good thing you followed me out here, can’t have you leaking all over the gym floor like this.”  He brings up his fingers so you can both see how your wetness coats his fingers, even though he has yet to insert them into you.  When he pulls them apart, you watch the fluid web that connects his fingers stretch, proof that your pussy is positively leaking; you whimper at the filthy sight and bring Din’s hand to your mouth, popping his fingers into your mouth so you can suck off your own arousal.  Moaning at the taste of your own indecency, you grind down hard against Din’s groin, his hard-on straining painfully against his shorts. 

“Fuck me,” you mumble, Din’s fingers still in your mouth.

“Let me make you come first, pretty bird,” Din pleads, always putting your pleasure first and wanting to lesson the sting of the first stretch of his cock within your tight walls.

“Can’t wait, daddy… please, I can take it, please.”

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” grits Din, as he pushes his shorts and boxers down; his leaking cock springing out and slapping against your stomach, coarse hair at the base tickling your clit and making you gasp in pleasure, “YES!  Please, daddy, need to bounce for you.”

You’ve never taken him without having come first, and if you weren’t so far gone, answering only to your lust, you would probably be worried; but as you line yourself up with Din, the shudder you get just from swiping his swollen head through you folds and tapping it on your clit makes it impossible to care about anything other than having him inside you right now.

Slowly, slowly you sink down on Din’s length, taking him a little at a time.  Din grips your waist tightly, eyes closed, forcing himself to breathe; you’re so incredibly tight this, warm cunt practically strangling him, he fights the urge to move and bury himself in you fully.  The stretch of Din’s fat cock is almost too much, your soft walls molding so tightly to him you can feel every ridge and vein as you slowly spear yourself downwards.  The pain doesn’t register so much as the overwhelming feeling of fullness, your body needing more time and space to accommodate Din’s thickness.  When he finally bottoms out, you just sit and sigh, sated from just warming his throbbing cock in your tight heat. 

Your lust driven frenzy quelled, you now rest serene in Din’s arms, drinking in his gentle kisses, soothing touches, and words of praise of how good you’re doing for him; Din worshipping you as you take his cock so perfectly, and you getting used to his size and relearning how to breathe.  Finally, finally, you look up at Din’s face to see his eyes filled with adoration, and your breathing evens, allowing you to kiss him with renewed passion.  Grinning against your lips, Din murmurs, “Thought you wanted to bounce, bunny?”

Pulling away slightly and grinning back, you nod and lift yourself up a little, then slowly push yourself down back down fully onto Din’s length again, eliciting a heady groan from you both.  You repeat the action, again and again, each time increasing the amount of Din’s length you work in and out of your pussy, until you’re panting and bouncing up and down on the full length of Din’s dick, “Feel so good, daddy.  So full.”

“So fucking pretty, bouncing on me like a whore, bunny,” groans Din, as he mouths at your tits.  You love his new pet name for you, the endearment spurring you to bounce harder and chase the high that’s been building since you saw him land a thundering cross punch to Chris’ jaw in the ring. 

“Love being your slutty bunny, daddy,” you cry, head thrown back in ecstasy, “wanna ride this cock until it’s all creamy.  Until it fills me up, ngh..ahhh-“

Din thinks he’s going to explode from your filthy words, then he knows he’s going to explode when he looks down at where the two of you are connected and sees a ring of white around the base of his cock, “Holy shit, baby.  Look at you already creaming around me.  My perfect bunny.  Doing so good riding this dick, taking me so well.  So fucking perfect.”

He presses one of his hands against your stomach, balls tightening when he swears he can feel some movement against his palm from the inside, and uses his thumb to draw his name on your swollen clit. 

It’s too much, too much.  The stretch and burning sting of having taken Din’s cock without much prep, his filthy words of praise, the lewdness of fucking in his car in broad daylight parked out in the open in front of his place of business, the tenderness of your new pet name, the delicious pressure on your clit – you come.  You come with a soundless scream, the stuttering of Din’s name punctuated by sharp gasps of air, you body shudders and shivers as you clench down hard on Din’s cock.  Hand threading, then fisting the hair at the base of your neck, Din fucks up into you as he praises you through your high.

“So fucking gorgeous when you come for me, pretty bird.”

“My little bunny did such a good job on daddy’s dick.”

“You feel so good, baby.  Made for me.”

You’re still so full, but now also so pliant and eager to please; with what remaining energy you have, you bounce down hard, meeting every one of Din’s upward thrusts so he bottoms out in you each time, the force of each drive has your ass jiggling as it slaps down on his thighs.  Din grunts and pants as he chases his own finish; you hug yourself around his neck, and babble, “Thank you for making your bunny come, daddy.  Felt so good to gush all over your dick.  Want to do the same for you, Din.  Please, please, fill me up.  Need your cum, please.”  Never one to deny you anything, Din comes with a roar, filling your pussy with rope after rope of his milky cum so you grow even fuller and continue to hum, “Thank you, thank you, daddy.”

Your post “workout” cooldown comprises of gentle strokes to the back, soft cradling of heads, and quiet words of devotion; tired and satisfied in Din’s embrace, you start to shiver, and this time not from pleasure.  Coming out into the cold air while sweating from a run, then getting naked in a colder car was probably not the smartest idea, but you hadn’t been really thinking about the well-being of your health at the time.  Din rubs his big hands over your arms to warm you up, “Pretty bird, let’s get you dressed.”  You find your gym clothes but the idea of putting on damp clothes is wholly unappealing, so Din reaches his long arms into the trunk and roots around for some spare clothes.  Stepping out of the truck in an oversized yellow Lakers t-shirt and Din’s sweatpants that you’ve rolled up multiple times, you realize it couldn’t be any more obvious what the two of you have been up to.

Getting your things from the trunk, you decide to go through the side entrance straight up to Din’s apartment to avoid any walk of shame embarrassment in the gym.  Giving him a parting kiss at the front door, you whisper, “Hope it’s okay we did that, Din.  Don’t want anyone to file a complaint against Mando’s.”  You look so cute, worried about the reputation of his business, Din can’t help but yank you against him via the waistband of his pants and give you a deep reassuring kiss, “Perk of being a Mando, pretty bird – no one can say shit to you,” before sending you upstairs with a spank.

---

You start to feel a tickle in your throat when you go to sleep on Sunday, and by the time you wake up for work on Monday, it’s a full-blown sore throat.  You trudge through a morning of meetings, trying to avoid the pounding of your head and attempt to soothe your throat with lozenges when your team gathers at the door to your office and point a makeshift cross made out of pens and rubber bands at you, telling you to go home.

You gather your computer and some files and tell them you’ll work from home until you’re better, but they insist you rest; you compromise and say you’ll be available by email before heading home.

Din is doing double duty again his week; although you haven’t voiced your concerns, you've noticed that Din’s been a little restless as of late, him and Paz meeting more frequently over an increasing number of border skirmishes and disputes that need to be handled.  You’re not sure if it’s anything serious, but you do know that the need to step up security has been weighing on Din – he himself stepping in and putting in more face time than he has since his retirement.  You call Din to let him know that you seem to have caught a cold, and you think it’s better if he doesn’t come over, in case he catches it too.  With him working long hours, you don’t want anything to risk him getting even less rest than he already is.  As expected, he protests, but you insist even though you will miss him.

The next morning you wake up feeling like hot garbage.  You slog through about two hours of work before making the executive decision to put your out-of-office on and reschedule you remaining meetings.  Your team tells you they don’t want to hear from you until next week but know you’re likely too stubborn to agree to that.  You take a bunch of drugs and wonder how you got sick.  You’re usually pretty healthy and while the weather is getting chillier, you’re not out much without being bundled up? 

Oh. 

Your drowsy brain flashes a vignette of sweaty bodies in the backseat of a car, windows fogging as the heat from illicit activities condense against windows cooled by the lower outside temperatures.   Of Din’s face buried into your neck, holding you close as you both calm down, your naked body cooling and shivering after your explosive highs.  So, this man really will be the death of me, you think, as you pass out.

You wake up groggy and with your throat on fire later in the afternoon.  Popping some more drugs, you reply to some work emails and the messages from your friends and Din checking in.  You know he’s doing another late night with the Mandos, so you downplay your symptoms a bit so he will acquiesce to your suggestion that he go straight home to rest again.  It’s easier to do over text; a phone call would have given away your loss of voice and sent him racing over.  With your friends, you can be more candid, I’m dying you tell them – they all immediately volunteer to come over but you tell them to stay away for their own sakes.  Going to bed early after taking Al out, you debate dinner but ultimately go without because you can’t handle swallowing any food.

Wednesday is… a blur.  You don’t even turn on your computer today or look at your phone.  You drag yourself out of bed, take Al out, feed Al, then curl up on the couch shivering.  Shit.  This is the flu.  Your muscles ache, your head is splitting open, and you can add a stuffed-up nose to your growing list of symptoms.  Using the energy you have left to grab more blankets, take some drugs and pull down the blinds, you’re guessing the fever is next. That or death.

It's dark when you finally wake up to your phone buzzing on the coffee table; you groggily look at the time, shoot, it’s 7 pm already? You don’t feel well rested at all.  You need to take Al out.  Ignoring the call and what you think are a bunch of missed notifications on your phone, you thrown on a jacket over your sweats and apologize profusely to Al while waiting for the elevator.  Once outside, you have to admit that the crisp cool air feels amazing against your hot skin, and you’re debating if you should risk taking Al for a short walk when your phone rings again.  You pick up when you see it’s Din, “Hubo?” you croak out, barely audible.

“Pretty bird… you sound terrible,” Din’s been worried about you all day.  He hasn’t liked the idea of you being alone and sick, but you were pretty insistent that it wasn’t anything to worry about while encouraging him to stay at his place.  He’s been feeling a bit off kilter being apart from you; even though he’s exhausted from pulling double duty with the Mandos, he misses at least seeing you and Al for your nightly walk.  Now he’s even more thrown when he realizes you’ve been downplaying the severity of your illness for whatever reason.

“Thanks,” you joke, but it doesn’t come out sounding jovial; in fact, it’s barely the sound of a scratch.

“Baby, I’m going to come over and-” Din starts to say when you interrupt, “No, no, you’ll get s-” before you’re stopped mid-sentence by a coughing fit.

Din’s already gathered his things and is getting in his truck by the time you’ve finished coughing, “I’m fin-” you’re saying when you’re cut out by the sound of a siren going by.

Din says your name.  He hardly ever says your name; it’s always pretty bird, or baby, or sweetheart, or some other endearment.  And he never says it in this low, warning tone, like he’s afraid of what he might say if he doesn’t say your name instead.  He repeats it, then, “Who is walking Al while you’re sick?”

Why do you feel like you’re in trouble whether you answer or not?  Your body clearly doesn’t want to get in trouble either because it figures the best thing to do is launch another coughing fit.

Din softens a little, “Pretty bird, get inside and get in bed, I’ll be over soon,” and he hangs up before you can attempt to argue.

When you and Al come in a few minutes later, you feed him and give him some fresh water, all while giving him as many fussings as you can muster as a continued apology for having ignored him all day.  You trudge over to the kitchen thinking you should eat something, clearly the lack of food has not been aiding your recovery, but as you peer in your fridge, the idea of having to prepare anything overwhelms you.  You pour yourself some orange juice and use it to wash down some more flu medication and then look through you phone at the messages you’ve missed while sleeping.  You’re mid-scroll when there’s a knock on your door; after opening the door, you quickly step back to let Din in and cover your mouth with your hand so you don’t breathe your germs all over him.

“None of that now, pretty bird,” Din says firmly, reaching for you and pulling you in close with one arm before planting a kiss on the top of your hot head. 

“You’ll get sick,” you murmur into his chest. 

“Then I’ll get sick,” he puts the bags he brought on the foyer table before gently shuffling you towards your bedroom.

When he sees that your made bed (when did you do that!?) does not look slept in, he tsks, “They say that doctors make the worst patients,” he lays you down after pulling the covers back, tucking you in after, “but I think it’s actually stubborn little girls that work in finance.”

His words are lighthearted but you know he’s worried about you, so you play along and whisper as loud as your painful throat will let you, “Sorry, daddy.”

Din kisses you on your forehead, “You’re burning up.  I wish you had let me come over sooner, baby.  Take care of you and Al.”

“Didn’t want to bother you, Din,” you murmur, snuggling down into your bed; just being in his very presence has relaxed you. That and the drugs kicking in, has you feeling pliant and snoozy.

“You never bother me, sweetheart.  Except maybe when you don’t tell me how sick you really are and you go out in the cold while you have a fever,” he says pointedly. 

You yawn and close your eyes, confessing, “You seem so stressed out with all the stuff that’s going on with the Mandos lately, Din.  Didn’t want to add to your load, make you feel like you have to come and see me and Al when you’ve already had a difficult day.”

“You ever think that maybe seeing you and Al is exactly what I need after a long hard day of seeing some bad shit go down?” says Din, quietly.

Your eyes open wide; you can’t believe you haven’t thought of it like that.  You know that anytime you’re having a bad day, it’s been made better the instant you see Din’s face, and even while you’ve been sick this week, you’ve longed for his soothing embrace.  Why didn’t you think it would be the same for him?  You sit up so fast you get dizzy, but throw your arms around Din’s shoulders and bury your face in his neck, “Oh baby, I’m so sorry.  You’re right, I shouldn’t have kept it from you.”

“It’s okay, pretty bird.  You were just trying to take care of me.  You need to let me take of you too, okay?  I like taking care of you.”

You nod into him and let Din gently lay you down again.  As you snuggle back into your covers, you pat the other side of the bed, “Come and sit with me and tell me about your day and all the shit that’s been going on until I fall asleep.”

Din climbs onto the bed and starts to pet your hair, “Sounds good.  But whenever you wake up next, I’m going to feed you some soup, okay?”  You nod, and feel the bed jostle some more as Al hops up on the bed to join in on the family time.  He lays down between you and Din, resting his head on Din’s lap so Din can pat his head as well.

When you’re all settled in, Din looking like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, starts to share.  First you learn some background: in addition to the Fett family, there other powerful syndicates in play - The Pykes, the Hutts, the Guavians, to name a few.  You make a face when you remember Gorga Hutt and his slimey cronies from Jimmy’s fight night and Din chuckles as if reading your mind.  Apparently, years ago, before Boba rose to power, the rival gangs ran unchecked, and violence in the streets was a common occurrence.  Gangs constantly fighting for territory or profits made for a lot of instability and it was an unsafe time for Din’s neighbourhood as well as many others in the city.  Once Boba had built up sufficient territory and muscle to be taken seriously, he had called the families together and brokered a peace treaty; physical borders and commercial limits were drawn that minimized conflict and overlap of business interests, ensuring prosperity and minimizing bloodshed for all.  Din recalls for you how many of his earlier years as Boba’s enforcer were spent strengthening and defending these borders and boundaries.  Happily, for the most part things have been stable for many years; nothing is ever truly peaceful but everyone has been co-existing without issue. 

However, in the past month or so, something had shifted; little problems and violations have been occurring with increasing frequency. 

“What kind of problems?” you ask, you’re fighting sleep to make sure you don’t miss any of what Din is telling you.  Din sighs, “Things that if they were to happen as a one-off, wouldn’t necessarily be concerning. Like vandalism of a business under one family’s protection, or minor altercations among lower ranking members from rival families in public places, or even the theft of known family members’ property.”  Din rubs his face in frustration. There’s nothing to prove it but Din doesn’t feel that these incidents are isolated; there must be something bigger at play.  For now, the Mandos are being dispatched to put out these figurative (and in one case, literal) fires, and to beef up security where future infractions are likely to take place, but Din thinks they need to investigate these events as a whole to see if there is something more sinister behind it all.  It’s really been stressing him out.

Holding Din’s hand and stroking it so that you’re the one now comforting him, “I think you should trust your experience with this type of unrest. Plus, you don’t have any reason not to listen to your gut.  What does Paz think?”

“He agrees with me, but he’s the leader now and his orders are to quell and prevent further disturbances.  Any investigation has got to be secondary.”

“I see.  What do you think is going on?” you nuzzle Din’s hand with your cheek, letting him know he can think out loud with you.

Din rubs his chin, “I don’t think it’s a new player, they seem almost too careful.  None of the incidents ever hit any big enough targets or players that would lead to full scale retaliation.  So it has to be an existing family in order to be in the know.  The problem is, I can’t see any of the families risking all out war… for what?  A couple of corners?  The cost of a few repairs?”

Your analytical brain is turning, “Are the other families run like the Fetts?  I mean, when you say it can’t be one of the families, what you really mean is you don’t think it’s a family sanctioned plan or attack, like it isn’t approved by leadership? But, are any of the families big enough or loosely run enough that people could go rogue?  Or get away with stuff without their leaders knowing?”

“Hmmmmm… good point, pretty bird.  None of the other families are like the Fetts, actually.  Boba’s power never came from numbers, but from solidarity… stronger together, is the family motto.  Everyone knows what everyone is doing and we stick together, no secrets.  As I understand it, that’s not how the other families are run – they’re bigger for one thing.  And there’s a lot of segregation so no one knows everything. Everything is need to know and people sort of stick to their own lanes – it’s so no one amasses enough power within the organization to overthrow anyone.”  Din shrugs, “I mean, seems like a weird way to run things to me. What you're suggesting would still be risky, and I don’t know why someone would take that risk, but it's definitely possible we should be looking for people who are doing things without proper family sanction.”  Din grins down at you, “Smart girl.”

You smile back, “Really?”

“Really.  I can think of a few people I want to look into right off the bat.  You’ve given me lots to think about, pretty bird.  Now go to sleep.”

Yawning a big yawn, you close your eyes and smile, murmuring, “I helped.”

---

When you wake up, it’s nearly midnight; you’re groggy and still feverish, but your stomach is growling and there’s a delicious smell coming in from the kitchen.

You pad out to living room to find Din working on his laptop, a pair of reading glasses perched on his adorable nose.  When he sees you, he sets everything down on the coffee table, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

Having decided that honesty is the best policy, you croak out, throat still scratchy, “Hungry.”

“Good!” Din guides you to the kitchen and gently helps you up onto a high top at the kitchen island. 

As Din takes out a bowl, you ask, “What’s that?”  Curious about the pot that’s simmering on the stove; you think it’s the source of the delicious aroma you woke to earlier. 

“Peli’s famous chicken noodle soup,” Din ladles some into a bowl. 

“You made this?”

“Yeah right.  No, Peli won’t share the recipe.  Says if we’re lucky she’ll will it to one of us when she dies.  Nah, she made this batch for you when she found out you were sick.”

“That’s so nice.  She didn’t need to do that.  I’ll have to bake her some cookies to thank her when I’m better.”

“She’ll like that, but she wanted to.  Pretty girl, don’t you get it?  You’re one of us now and we take care of each other.  You have more people than you know that have your back.”  He puts the steaming bowl of soup in front of you and tells you to wait.  Grabbing a blanket from the couch, he wraps it around you, tucking in your arms.  You manage a small laugh, “How am I supposed to eat my soup?”

“I’ll feed you,” he holds a hand up when he sees your expression, “you said you’d let me take care of you.”

You nod. It’s not in your nature to let people wait on you hand and foot, but you still feel bad for not telling Din how sick you were earlier so, you sit, bundled up on your chair, and let Din spoon the soup that he blows on to cool into you waiting mouth.  It’s incredible.  Even your stuffed up head can taste the explosion of flavours, the ginger clearing up your sinuses a bit, and the carrots, chicken and noodles all tender enough to be swallowed painlessly.  Din patiently feeds you the entire bowl, and you patiently let him; the look of relief and devotion that Din is giving you is enough to make you glad that you let him.  After you’ve brushed your teeth, Din sends you straight to bed, hardly needing any convincing to stay with you until you fall asleep.

The next day, Din calls out from work, both jobs.  He knows if he goes in, he’ll just be distracted by how you’re doing – plus, he’s making some headway in the investigative notes that he's making for Paz. He does all the walks with Al, and feeds you more soup.  He runs you a hot bath filled with eucalyptus bath salts and stays with you while you soak your achy muscles.  When he dries you, you try to give him a seductive look, but end up doubling over coughing and he tells you that while he still finds you very sexy even sick (Is that sarcasm?), you need to conserve your energy.  You make a face at him when he tucks you into bed.  You sleep.  By the late afternoon, you feel like you can sustain consciousness for more than an hour and you opt to lay on the couch and hangout with Din.  He puts on the comfort movie of your choice and massages your feet while you eat a yogurt.  You fall back asleep before the end of the movie, barely registering when Din turns it off and takes you back to bed.

It's past midnight when you wake up again and the first irrational thing you think is that you’ve somehow gone back in time and gotten sick again, but this time worse.  You feel disgusting.  Your nose is no longer stuffy, but that’s because the snot is now just free flowing out of your face.  You’re so snotty, in no time at all you’re surrounded by a ring of used tissues from having to blow your nose so much, and there’s no end in sight.  Your sore throat and dry cough, which had been clearing up, have been replaced with rattling phlegm which you can’t seem to clear no matter how hard you hack, but you try until your eyes water.  Ewwwwwwwwwwww. 

Din, appears in your doorway when he hears you, “Baby, you okay?”

You look up at him, squinting through your tears at his sleep tousled hair and the wrinkles on the pajamas he must have changed into.  You woke him.  And this is the thing that just breaks you and you start to cry for real.  He rushes over, scared, “Pretty bird, does something hurt?  Let me make it better.”  His obvious concern and caring tone of voice just make you cry harder, and now you’re snotting even more.  Great.  You hate that he’s seeing you like this.  You’re not the smart, pretty, funny girl he dates, you’re this weak thing, sick and tired and gross.  Totally unsexy.  Completely unhelpful.  Needy.  Putting so much on him.  He can’t even get a decent night’s sleep around you. 

You don’t realize you’ve said this all out loud until Din tuffs out a little laugh.  He climbs onto the bed and sits right across from you taking your hands in his, kissing them. 

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, it’s okay.  I’m here.”

“No, it’s not,” you choke out between sobs, “You shouldn’t have to be here.”

Din sighs, but it’s not a sigh of exasperation, but of understanding; he tips your head up to meet his eyes, “I’m not here because I have to be, I’m here because I want to be.”

“Why?  I’m so gross.”

Smiling, Din patiently explains, “Why?  Because I love you, pretty bird, that’s why.”

Your eyes widen; your drowsy brain isn’t sure you heard him right, “You love me?”

He nods at you kindly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.  But to you, in your current state, you can’t comprehend it, “Like this?”

Din lets out a deep laugh, one that fills the room, and he strokes your hair and looks lovingly at you, “Yes.  I love you like this.  Like the sweetest woman I’ve ever met, one who never ceases to think of the welfare and comfort of others even when she’s in an obvious state of discomfort herself.  Like someone I truly love taking care of because it’s such an honour to take care of her.  She’s strong and capable, and she doesn’t really need me and never asks anything of me, but trusts me enough to let me be around her when she’s not feeling strong and capable even though she is definitely still all those things.  It’s an honour to be good enough to take care of you, pretty bird, because the only person that can do the job properly is you, and it’s an honour to come second to you for anything.”

“Yes, I love you like this.  And I love you when you’re playing with Al, when you’re sneaking the treats you bake to Jimmy when you think Greef isn’t looking, and when you’re happy just to keep me company while I work.  I love you when just the sight of you brings a peace into my life that I didn’t know was possible, and when you laugh, or call me ‘old man’ or when you listen to me talk about the Mandos and never judge.  I love you when I see your name pop up on my phone and when you hold my hand when we walk Al together.”

“I love you all the time, pretty bird.”

Now you’re crying for a different reason, though no longer hysterical; just silent tears running down your face as you come to the obvious but inescapable conclusion about your connection to this magnificent force of a man in front of you, “I love you, too, Din.”

And you do.  You do love him.  You love all that he is, all that he’s capable of, and all of who he chooses to be on a daily basis.  You love his kindness, his protectiveness, his compassion, his gentleness.  You love that he lives by a code that values loyalty, respectfulness, and helping others, and he practices this creed in every little thing he does.  You love his playfulness, and his sharp wit, and how being able to make him laugh feels like an incredible accomplishment and when you do it, you just immediately want to do it over and over again.  You love that he always makes you feel wanted and cherished, but never treats you like you’re breakable.  You love how he’s constantly pushing up his reading glasses, and thinks they make him look old but will blush when you tell him how attractive you find them.  You love him when he’s bringing you and your work team dinner and remembers that someone’s gluten free.  You love him when he places his hand on your thigh when he’s driving, and you love him when he pushes up your sleeves when they start to slip when you’re washing dishes even without you asking him to.  Yes, you love him all the time too.

You can’t tell him all that right now, though; you’re too sick and sleepy, but you think you’ll be able to tell tomorrow.  And the day after.  And the day after that.  For now, you love him by letting him love you, snot and all.  Clearing away all the tissues on your bed, you lay back down and scoot backwards towards of the middle of the bed, making a space for Din and hold your arms out, I need you.  Din’s smile spreads wide across his face, relieved and content, he climbs in and wraps you up in his arms.  Stroking your hair, your back, as your breathing evens.

Drifting off, you roll over so your back is pressed to Din’s chest, taking comfort in feeling him there, a physical and proverbial wall for you to lean on, “Good night, Din.  I love you.”

“I love you more, pretty bird.  Good night.”