#I literally just wanted to be happy and now

[bizarrelovetriangel]

okay mc running to the boys arms and just staying there saying I feel safe here

nooooo don't fall into their trap you'll never escape it's like a blackhole that'll just suck you in. maybe literally

sylus

- will absolutely drop everything he's doing from the moment you run into his arms. if he's in the middle of doing something like working on a weapon or one of his motorcycles, his focus will 100% shift to you. if he's in the middle of a phone call, he'd give them the "i'll call you back" just to hug you back tightly but gently

- he'll def tease you at first and be like, "looking for the brooch, kitten? what're you up to?" and that grin of his will melt into a soft smile when you tell him that you just want to be there because you feel safe in his arms.

- hearing those words absolutely mean the world to him. all his life, he's been rejected and feared and even now he still intimidates people but to know that the one person who's special to him feels safe in his arms ????? it'll really hit him that he's Loved and seen for his true self and just !!!! he'd be so so so happy

- arms are preoccupied indefinitely

caleb

- will also immediately give his undivided attention to you from the moment he sees you running towards him. like if he was in the middle of assembling some models? it could disintegrate for all he cares. pip-squeak is here. he'll always be prepared to catch you and welcome you into his arms. mc loves doing this ever since they were little.

- caleb has always been mc's safe place since Day One and he knows that. whenever there's thunder and lightning during storms, she'd go to caleb and he'd literally cover her ears and hold her just so she could calm down and fall asleep. she might've grown out of that habit but caleb being her safe place will never change ever ever

- he knows that you feel safe in his arms but still, hearing you say it out loud directly will make him feel so fulfilled and proud. like everything is right. he's made it his life mission to be your protector, so for you to come to him even when there's no danger involved, that you're just relaxed and comfortable in his arms, just like a home would be, he'd take it as his greatest achievement even beyond all the awards and recognitions he's ever received in his life.

- once you're in his arms, he'll embrace you so softly as he always does. but be careful what you wish for — he might not let you go easy. if you have to go to the bathroom, too bad. you gotta wrestle him or tickle him in order to escape. good luck <3

zayne

- okay so funny story just this morning i saw this art of zayne on twitter of mc running into his arms and it's just so precious

- zayne will quite literally drop whatever he has in hands if he sees you running to him. at first, he will be worried about why you were running, but he'd relax when he sees that there's no danger and he senses that you're just there for cuddles. he'd give no further questions and embrace you softly

- like caleb, zayne had made it his goal to protect you in his own ways, so if you tell him that you feel safe in his arms, he'd freeze up for a hot sec and then he'd be flustered, shake his head and chuckle, and then he won't be able to stop smiling for the rest of the day because that means a lot to him

- if he's at the hospital in his office, yvonne might have to cut off the moment short because zayne would get distracted and hold you for so long that he'd be just a little late to wherever he's being summoned. and his colleagues will be playfully dramatic about it like, gasp, dr zayne fell a few seconds behind schedule ????? and when they see that it's because of you, they'd just be like "that explains it" bc they just know how important you are to zayne. they'd catch him looking happier than usual and they'll know it's because of you.

xavier

- at first he'd be too sleepy to be aware of what's happening around him. if you run into his arms, he'd hold you out of instinct, half-awake and everything. he probably won't even ask why you suddenly decided to hug him like that. he'll just accept his fate.

- but if he's not sleepy, like let's say he's in the middle of playing a video game and you suddenly decided to dive into his arms, he'll automatically envelope his arms around you. he still might not ask tbh lmao but if you tell him why you're in his arms, he'd become so cuddly he might as well become Bunbun

- "i'm glad to hear that." his words might be simple but he really will be overjoyed about it. he literally spent centuries just to be by your side, doing everything in his power just to keep you and your precious heart beating, even if it meant possibly seeing you fall for someone else. and so he'll never take for granted the fact that you chose him, time and time again. knowing that you feel safe in his arms, xavier will continue to fight anything to keep it that way

rafayel

- like sylus, he'd drop a playful remark at first too. if he sees you running to him, let's say while in the middle of painting, he'd open his arms wide open to catch you and then act like a hostage once you wrap your arms around him. "wha — what are you doing of all a sudden? is this a trick?" but he wouldn't dare to move away. not when you look so peaceful in his arms.

- "it's nothing. i just feel safe here." rafayel will become a blushing mess, you know how he gets. "that's my line, miss bodyguard." rafayel has always felt safe with you. after all, you are is anchor, his beloved bride. he's the happiest and most comfortable with you.

- so for you to say the same back to him, rafayel will definitely be surprised for a minute, repeating your words over and over again until it clicks. then he'd tighten his hold on you as the feeling of pride and content overwhelms him

- he'll absolutely hold you for as long as possible. he will attempt to paint while hugging you, do not underestimate his skills. in fact, hearing your words might just motivate him to paint a whole different, newly-inspired art piece, because now his heart feels warm and racing. he feels like he can do anything. you, out of all people, feels safe in his arms? he feels invincible. fishie's vibrating with joy just a little. but oh no, maybe he can't work in this condition, after all. mc, let's go out for a walk ~

[classyrbf]

Sukuna being soft to his one and only love... Kinda.

when thinking of someone who is kind hearted and soft, sukuna isn’t the first person that comes to mind. He’s literally the opposite of everything that is considered nice, sweet, good, and whatever else that invokes happiness. Anyone who comes near him is fearful of what he’s capable of, considered one of the most strongest and dangerous things on earth. King Sukuna, Lord Sukuna, King of Curses and whatever else the people call him is a what everyone knows him by.

But, back home, in his estate that locked away in the deep dark woods on a mountain top, he has you, someone who has casted some type of spell to get under his skin, to make him feel emotions he thought he hated. “Ryo!” You shout through the halls, running to you shared chambers, a beautiful flower in hand. You barge into the bedroom, his gargantuous figure sitting there, a simple robe tied around him. “Look, I found these flowers outside of the estate!” You walk up to him, full on smile plastered across your face. “I’d like to have them in the garden.”

He lets out a low grunt, one of his four arms reaching for the brightly colored flower, inspecting it as if it was some foreign object. “Fine,” he plainly says, handing it back to you. “I’ll send one of the maids to the village to find seeds.” He blinks at you.

“Oh, thank you!” You tightly wrap your arms around his neck, jumping onto him and hugging him tightly. You press kisses to his cheek.

“Enough.” He gently pushes you away. It’s not that he doesn’t like your affection, he just doesn’t know how to receive it nor return it. A murderous and cold hearted monster like himself feels guilty that a ray of sunshine like yourself has taking a liking to him. And why has he allowed it? Why does he feel a buzzing in his chest whenever he hears your voice? Why does he allow to treat him like some low level human? Your kisses, your hugs, your stupid nickname for him. If it were anyone else, he would have slain them by now.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, stepping back a few times. “I got too excited.” When he hears your voice drop, he can’t help but feel a way. It makes him cringe and confused all at the same time. He wants to reassure you, tell you it’s okay, and hold you close. Instead, he gets up, staring down at your frown. Instinctively, his hand reaches out, caressing your cheek. Those eyes of yours quickly find his, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Come. Dinner should be ready,” he states, walking out the chambers and into the hall. You follow right behind him, like a puppy.

After dinner, you’re getting ready for bed, locked away in the bathroom as you slip your new nightgown on, one that you’ve been saving to show Sukuna. He’s already in bed, his lack of clothing is…a choice when he sleeps. A giddy feeling settles in your stomach, smoothing out the fabric before you walk back into the bedroom, unable to hide your smile. “Ryo,” you gently call out. He turns his head. “Do you like my new night gown? I got it at the market the other day.” You climb with him into bed, making the brave choice of straddling him.

He narrows his eyes, noticing the silk fabric and lace detailing at the hems. It was much more shorter than all your other night gowns you usually wore. “It’s…okay,” he huffs. The way your skin was showing, your thighs peeking out from underneath and your breasts filling out the top, it was more than just okay. That little piece of fabric was making his thoughts run rampant. “Now let’s sleep.” He shuts his eyes.

Nervously, you clear your throat, resting your hands on his chest. He blinks one eye open, seeing that you’re still there staring at him like you want something. “Ryo…”

“What?” His gruff voices breaks the silence.

You sit there on top of him, lips parting to speak but nothing comes out. "Nevermind." You roll off of him and onto the bed, your back facing against him. "Goodnight," you mumble, pulling the blanket over you.

He looks at you, head resting against the pillow, your body moving with each breath. He doesn't know why but he finds himself reaching out to you, pulling you in close with ease. His arm holds you tightly against him, back pressed against his chest. "Tell me what you want," he whispers against your ear, a shiver sending down your spine.

With a shaky hand, you grab his, guiding it under your nightgown. He takes a deep breath, jaw clenching when he feels his hand resting against the warmth of your clothed cunt. As much as he wants to, he can't. He's too rough and unforgiving, he'll break your porcelain body and treat you like nothing because he can't make love. He's incapable of giving you that. He knows you desire it, he can sense it. You want warmth, you want appreciation, slow kisses, and that humanly connection. "I can't. I'll...hurt you." He swiftly removes hand, avoiding any more temptation.

Your body turns, now facing him. "You can never hurt me," you say so confidently. He admires your resilience, but deep down you're still unaware of who he truly is. "I can take it," you chime in again, doing your very best to convince him.

"I am unable to. You desire affection and love. I want nothing more than pleasure." He's the one now turning away from you. He can sense your frustration and sadness, but you should know he's doing this for your own good. He'll use you, and treat you like a rag doll. He does not feel the same, he can't possibly feel the same emotions you desperately want him to. Your simple human mind can't comprehend it.

Any other woman who dared to throw themselves at him he would gladly take, basking in a quick night of greed and lust. He can't do that to you, for some reason his conscious won't allow him.

"You cannot love your future wife?" Is what hears, sadness riddling your tone, voice wavering. "Why am I here then? Why have you not killed me like the rest who defy you? Am I something only for your pleasure? I'd rather be dead than live like this any longer—"

"Do not say such words!" Sukuna shouts, sitting up. "You are much more than my own heart and mind can comprehend! You confuse me! My heart beats with feelings I haven't felt in centuries! Whenever I see you, I feel weak, vulnerable, a foreign feeling to who I truly am!" His yell bounces off the chamber walls. "But I cannot get rid of you, I cannot...kill you," his voice softens exceptionally. "I cannot sleep when you aren't near, and I cannot go a day without worrying something will happen to you. What have you done to me?" His brows furrow, an angry expression carved into his face.

Now, there's nothing but still silence. You sit up on your knees, shuffling closer to him, eyes fixated on his. He flinches at your touch, the warmth of your hand cupping his cheek. His hand wraps around your wrist, wanting to pull you away but he can't. "Stop. Just let me in." Your lips connect with his, giving him a light kiss.

"You're too good for me. I will hurt you eventually. You're a mere mortal, a human—"

"Stop talking. Let all those bad thoughts go and focus on me." You throw your legs over his waist, straddling him once more. Your lips peck his again, pulling away to look at him. Whenever he looks at you, he sees himself holding you, kissing you, treating you like the most fragile thing on earth. He doesn't feel aggression, or anger, or emptiness. He sees you, hears you, connected to you in more ways than he knows.

His hands hold your waist, moving in closer to feel your soft lips against his again. The kiss is slow and attentive, tongues slipping into each others mouths. Your hands ghost down his broad chest, pushing yourself into him. He didn't realize how much he needed you like this until now, growing hungry for more, feeling your desires deeply. He flips you over, pressing you onto your back without breaking the kiss, yet he's still so gentle, running his hands over your exposed thighs and basking in your touch as well. Your hand finds his, intertwining your fingers and he holds it back, squeezing your much smaller hand in his.

In this moment, he lets his feelings come break free instead of pushing them away. As much as it scares him, angers him even, he can't bring himself to put any of that on you. You have simply captivated him in more way than one and that is something new he has to learn to live with even if he is over a thousand years old.

feel free to support me <3

[peachesanmemes]

I also recommend just using the "whole message model." Similar to these examples but all-encompassing and you can literally just checklist it once you practice it a few times. Other people respond really well to whole messages instead of partial ones.

Partial message example: You don't really want to talk to me right now do you?

Lots of implications, lots of room for misinterpretation, isn't clear what the person wants done about the situation.

Whole message example: I've noticed we haven't been talking much and your responses have felt really short. I don't think this is the best way for us to resolve the thing that happened. I feel bad when we don't talk because I care about you/our relationship. Can you tell me what made you upset so we can work on a solution together?

Works really well, the other person doesn't have to guess anything, and they know plainly what you would like to see happen.

The whole message model also works for good things!

Happy example: You've really been picking up the slack for the team this week! It's really helping us all be more efficient and keep things running smoothly. I'm really glad we have you on the team, I feel better knowing you're around. :) I hope you know how meaningful your contributions are and I'd love to hear if there's ever any support you need from me.

I hate that thing some people do where it's like. "I left my wallet on the table to see if you'd say anything" or "I wanted to see if you'd wash the car if I stopped doing it"

Cause like

I dont know about anyone else

But I am perpetually hovering three inches above the strong subconscious belief that everyone knows what they're doing at all times except me, so if you change your normal patterns and I notice, then I will assume it is an intentional choice with a thought-out plan behind it and I will avoid interfering

And if I don't notice, because I won't, because why would I, because not much bothers me and if you don't say anything to indicate you are bothered then how would I KNOW

[postgamevibes]

Summary: A sweet, stolen moment between you and Jack at a café goes viral on TikTok and suddenly, the internet is obsessed with how soft Jack Hughes is for his girlfriend. The teasing from teammates ramps up and your private relationship feels a little more public than you intended, Jack proves there’s no hiding how much he loves you even if the whole world is watching.

*********************************************************

The café was quiet rare for a Saturday in Hoboken, especially after a Devils win.

You and Jack had scored a little corner booth, sunlight filtering across half-finished pastries and your shared iced coffee. He was in full “soft boyfriend” mode: backwards hat, hoodie sleeves pushed up, fingers tapping gently on your thigh under the table.

“You’re staring,” you teased, sipping through your straw.

Jack just blinked slowly. “So?”

“You’re so obvious.”

He leaned forward. “Don’t care who sees anymore.”

Unbeknownst to you both someone was seeing.

A few tables away, a fan sat half-hidden behind a plant and an iced matcha, recording you and Jack from behind her phone screen. It was just a short clip Jack laughing as you stole a bite of his muffin, brushing a crumb from your lip, kissing your hand like he was in a rom-com.

You didn’t know it yet, but the internet was about to fall in love with your relationship.

You found out later that night.

Jack was flipping through his phone, lounging on the couch with you wrapped up in his hoodie blanket combo, when Luke texted him a TikTok.

@user1: not me crying in public because jack hughes is literally the softest boyfriend ever 😭💘 🎵: “Until I Found You” – Stephen Sanchez

You watched the clip play.

The way Jack looked at you like the rest of the world melted away. The way you smiled, easy and happy. The gentle kiss to your knuckles.

Top comment:

you can always tell when a man loves his girl. this? this is love.

You blinked. “Well. That’s definitely us.”

Jack just laughed. “We are pretty cute.”

You groaned and buried your face in his shoulder. “Jack, we’re going to go viral.”

He just shrugged. “You mad?”

“No just kinda liked it being ours.”

“It still is,” he said quietly. “They only get the highlight reel. They don’t get the sleepy morning you. Or the you that steals the covers. Or the you who cried over my split lip.”

“I did not cry”

“Sure,” Jack grinned. “Definitely didn’t.”

The next few days? Chaos.

The TikTok crossed a million views in 48 hours.

The Devils reposted it. Buzzfeed wrote a listicle. Your name started trending. People in your DMs asked for skincare routines and “how to land a hockey player.” One girl wanted to buy Jack’s hoodie for $20.

Jack’s teammates were merciless.

“I didn’t know you were auditioning for The Bachelor, bro.” “Did she spoon-feed you too?” “Hey lover boy, want me to play ‘Your Body Is a Wonderland’ in the locker room next time?”

Jack took it in stride. “Y’all just jealous,” he’d say, totally unbothered.

You? A little less so.

It was sweet, sure. Nothing negative. But still your thing with Jack had always felt like a quiet corner of the world. And now it was getting blasted with ring lights and love song edits.

It all peaked one afternoon when you dropped off Jack’s water bottle at practice.

As you passed the glass, someone on the ice yelled:

“Don’t forget to blow her a kiss, TikTok boyfriend!”

Jack skated past, smirking. Met your eyes and winked.

You mouthed I’m going to kill you.

He mouthed back love you too.

That night, after the teasing and reposts and chaos, things felt quiet again.

Jack came out of the shower, damp hair curling over his forehead, sweats low on his hips, hoodie sleeves bunched at the wrists. He dropped beside you on the couch with a sigh and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

“You ever wish we’d kept this quieter?” you asked.

He looked at you. Thought about it. Then shook his head.

“Nah.”

You tilted your head. “No?”

“I mean yeah, it’s a lot. The guys are gonna roast me forever. But—”

His voice lowered.

“I’m not gonna pretend I don’t love you just because someone’s watching.”

You blinked.

“I love you. On the record. Off the record. Online. Offline. I love you when you steal my hoodies and when you call me out for leaving my stuff everywhere . I love you when you roll your eyes and when you kiss me with muffin crumbs on your lip.”

“Jack…”

“You okay, though? Really?”

You nodded, slowly. “Yeah, just weird, but not bad.”

He kissed you again, and again, like he had all the time in the world.

“Next time we get caught on camera,” he murmured, “I’ll try to make it even cuter.”

You laughed. “You better not, I can’t go viral again.”

Jack grinned. “Too late, already planning the sequel.”

[madebycloud]

not a lot, just forever

jinx/powder x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: the love between parent and child is truly not just a lot… but it's forever. (requested by anon). warnings/themes: fluff & slight angst, found family, domestic, parents au, vulnerability, wife!jinx words: 1.6k notes: happy mother's day :)

The day hasn't been going great.

Apparently Isha got into a bit of trouble today at school while she was playing with the other kids.

You're both sitting on the couch, Jinx on one end, and you on the opposite.

“Should we give her a lecture?” you suggest. “Let her know what she did was wrong?”

Jinx scoffs at your suggestion. “A lecture from both of us? you're really gonna make her feel guilty just for being a kid and screwing up?”

“I don't know!” you retort. “What do you suggest we do, then? just let it slide? it wasn't a minor thing she did. She could have seriously injured one of those kids.”

“It's... not that bad.”

“Not that...not that bad?” you repeat and stare at your wife in disbelief. “Have you lost your mind? she got suspended for two weeks! I don't understand why you're being so...so...lenient.”

“I'm lenient?” she says. “I just don't think a lecture is going to be of any use, especially if she doesn't think she did anything wrong.”

“She doesn't think she did anything wrong,” you say slowly. “Because you have been spoiling her rotten.”

“So she has a few special privileges.”

“A few? you're literally spoiling her, Jinx. She's turning more and more disobedient each day! You're just allowing her to do whatever she wants!”

Jinx glares at you. “So what? I'm letting her have her fun, unlike those uptight school teachers that get mad because a ten-year-old girl got a little too rough on the playground.”

You groan. “You need to stop feeding this behavior. This kind of thing would never have happened if-”

“-Oh, here we go,” she interrupts, rolling her eyes.

“I was going to say, ‘if we had just talked to her like normal parents’” you continue. “No one is calling you a bad mother. But you do realize that you need to set boundaries and actually tell her no once in a while.”

“Boundaries?” she repeats, scoffing. “You don't think I know how to set boundaries?”

“I just don't think you know the difference between being a parent and being a glorified-”

“I swear, if you continue with that sentence-”

“-Can you just stop?” you ask. “Can you, for one moment, just quit arguing and really listen? you realize that we're talking about Isha, right?”

She doesn't reply and simply averts her gaze, sulking.

You soften your tone, hoping that maybe this time, she'll actually listen and understand. “I'm not attacking you, Jinx. Isha was suspended. Suspended. Because instead of just playing a normal game, she decided that roughhousing was the way to go. And now that she's here, it hasn't fazed her at all-”

“I know that.“

“Then why do you still act like she did nothing wrong? if you act like it's not a big deal to her, then she's going to do it again.”

“...I know.”

You see her body slumping into the couch cushion. “You know, you're a good mother. I really think you are. But sometimes.... you let her get away with a lot.”

Jinx avoids eye contact but nods, her hand reaches to her shoulder and she picks at a loose thread on her shirt.

“I'm not talking about the times when she's staying up too late or she doesn't want to finish her vegetables. I'm talking about the fact that she's acting out in school,” you see her glance at you before looking away again, “she's doing things that kids her age really shouldn't be doing.”

“I'm...” she mumbles before burying her face in her hands. “I have no idea how to do this.”

That statement stuns you silent.

She admitted it.

Not as a joke. No sarcasm, no snark, just her...actually realizing how out of control things have gotten.

With all the courage you can muster, you stand up and kneel in front of her. You slowly reach out, take her hands into yours, gently pull them away from her face, and then kiss both her hands.

You feel her body tense at your first touch, and it's a good thing that she's refusing to look at you too because you can't look at her either. 

You're scared of looking into her eyes and seeing hatred or disgust... because what if this is the last straw, and she's just done?

But at the same time, you want to know, you need to know.

You take a risk, slowly letting your gaze travel from her knuckles to her wrist, to her arms, to her shoulders, to her collar, and then finally you look up.

And instead of the rage that you were expecting, you immediately get a jolt in your chest.

She's crying.

A few lone tears are making their way down her cheeks, but her eyes are red, and there's an undeniable quiver to that bottom lip.

She... she's looking at you with those eyes, and you can tell, you can just tell, that Jinx is holding herself back from looking away. She's holding that little thread of composure together as fiercely as that fraying thread on her shirt.

And all of your words, every thought, and all of the frustration you may have had, it's all gone.

You can't feel angry at her, seeing those tears in her eyes. If anything, you feel angry at yourself. For making her cry, for making her upset.

“Jinx-” you start, but any other words you had are swallowed down when you realize that saying her name is enough to make her eyes leak even more.

“...I'm... I'm sorry, I... I just-” she mumbles, choking back a sob, “I just.... I was scared. I still am. I...I don't know what I'm doing... I....I really.... really don't.”

“Don't apologize. That's not what I want,” you say. “This... parenting thing...it's confusing. For both of us. It's not like we can ask anyone for advice...”

“I just.. I wanted to be better than him,” she whispers. “I just want to do the right thing. I...I want to be a good mother.”

You sigh and let go of her hands, turning to sit next to her on the couch and pulling her into a hug. She drops all of her walls, and she clings to you, burying her face in the crook of your neck.

“... I'm.... I'm trying. I'm really, really f-f-fucking trying...”

“We're trying,” you repeat, your hands rubbing circles gently along her back. “We are. We're trying our best, we really are… we're both trying to do the best thing for her. We're both scared of making mistakes.”

She doesn't respond vocally, but you do feel her nodding.

“We just... we just need to be honest,” you continue. “We need to be honest with each other, and... and we need to be honest with Isha.”

“I'm sorry…” 

“Please stop that. Stop saying sorry. I know you just want to spoil her, to give her the world. You... you just have trouble saying no... and setting boundaries. We both do.”

“We suck at being adults and we suck at being parents.”

“We're both a little childish ourselves,” you say and you feel her nodding again, “and our poor kid is growing up with us, what a terrifying thought.”

She pouts. “... yeah,” she mumbles.

“Yeah,” you echo. “We both need to work on that,” you say, bringing a hand up to wipe the last tears away from her cheek. “You give her the whole moon, and I… I hold her hand and remind her that her feet are still on the ground.”

She snorts at that and even lets out a small laugh through her tears.

“We're not perfect,” you go on. “We're far from it. We've both got things to work on. There's no... there's no rulebook. No manual to follow. No way to... no way to do this whole ‘parenting’ thing except for trial and error. We're going to mess up. It's inevitable. We need to mess up, because this is new.”

Jinx's grip on you tightens even more.

“We will mess up. We will fight. We will argue, but... but we will never give up. We will never stop trying to do what is best for her. For Isha.”

“For our daughter,” she adds.

Your heart almost melts after hearing those words.

“For our daughter.”

Just then, you hear the sound of a door opening to your side. Both your heads turn, and you see Isha standing in the doorway, holding her blue stuffed bunny.

“Oh, hey sweetie,” you say, as soon as you see Isha come into view “come.”

She slowly walks towards you, never letting go of her beloved bunny. She climbs into your lap along with Jinx, sandwiching herself between you two.

Jinx reaches out to hold her, while you pull up her bunny to brush a few loose strands of hair out of her face. She leans into Jinx, and you can see Jinx's expression soften considerably.

“Hey...” Jinx says, and in spite of her watery eyes, she offers a smile to the little girl.

“We'll talk to her later,” you tell Jinx. “But for now…” let this moment remain unbroken.

She nods and ruffles Isha's hair, drawing a giggle from her.

Isha then cuddles up in your combined arms. 

Jinx gives you a look. A look that you can't quite understand the meaning of at first. But then you see the corners of her lips turn up, just enough for you to catch a ghost of a smile.

She looks... content. Like this is how it's supposed to be.

A family.

You're a family.

You're a family, and you're going to stay that way, come hell or high water.

You don't need a mansion. You don't need riches or jewels. You don't need fame or glory.

You're happy with just being here, with them.

You will never, ever, ask for anything more. Because this is enough.

All you want is for this to last.

Not a lot, just forever.

[joshujin]

can’t wait no more

🔞 18+, minors do not interact • masterlist • submit a request

your pov • soonyoung’s pov ⇣

soonyoung has been best friends with you for 10 years now—in love with you for almost all of that time. one way or another, those 10 years end tonight.

♫ darl+ing svt pairing: soonyoung x fem!reader word count: 11.6k (i don't want to talk about it) tags: best friends to lovers, idiots in love, a lil miscommunication, angst, happy ending, soonyoung pov, flashbacks cw: smut - possessiveness, unprotected piv (pull-out method. v irresponsible piv. don't be like these two), reader loses virginity, spit, oral f. receiving, fingering, mention of choking, mention of masturbating, soft vanilla smut, probably a little hornier than the other pov bc this is a MAN after all a/n: happy @citruscheol birth!!! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و to celebrate this momentous occasion, i ofc had to honor her request for a soonyoung pov of we can be all we need. you don’t really need to read that before this one; after all, they are essentially the same fic. BUT! i recommend you do bc it will make this version more enjoyable + easier to understand. and y’know what, i literally had to drive myself bat shit crazy and completely alter my brain chemistry to write this. like. there isn’t enough grass in the world that i can touch to return back to normal. and idk if i can ever look at hoshi the same ever again, so the least you can do is read both ok ㅠㅠㅠㅠ kidding ofc pls do what you want haha. either way, i think you’ll enjoy whichever one you want to read! as far as smut goes, same thing as last time: i marked where the smut starts and ends, but this courtesy is for adults who don’t want to read explicit material. minors should not be interacting at all pls!

soonyoung has been avoiding you. he knows you know it because you’ve asked him multiple times now if anything was wrong, and every time, he’s lied to you and told you everything was fine. everything wasn’t fine. it hardly felt like anything was fine, actually.

because you just blew out your candles, you’re 30 now, and his time has officially run out. he can’t blame anyone other than himself, though, and he knows it. he had seven whole years to tell you, and instead, he foolishly thought if he just continued to love you the way he’s always loved you, you would simply see it yourself. you would see how hopelessly in love with you he is. 

you didn’t. for whatever reason, his showering you with lavish gifts, vacations, and fancy meals didn’t strike you as odd for a friend. or the way he was constantly wrapped around you or leaving kisses on your forehead whenever he had the chance. or the fact that it’s been nine fucking years since he went on a date or slept with anyone. he’s fucking priestly at this point.

and he doesn’t do it just so you’ll get the hint. he does it because that’s how he loves you and that’s how he’s always loved you. but maybe that’s the issue: you think this is just how he is as a friend because he’s been this way ever since he met you. but you couldn’t be more wrong. 

soonyoung has never even felt inclined to treat anyone outside of his family the way he treats you. as far as he’s concerned, everything he does for you are just things he watched his dad do for his mom his whole life. you’re not even aware that the way he loves you is supposed to be reserved for whoever becomes his wife.

and he’s been so happy to give you all of that even if it meant you never saw him the way he longed for you to. it fills him with pride to know that your expectations are higher because he’s loved you so well—that you know exactly what you deserve because he’s always tried to give you exactly that.

at least, up until a few weeks ago, when the horror of the truth really started settling into his bones: you weren’t going to fall in love with him by the time you turn 30. and without even really realizing it, he started distancing himself from you, deluded into thinking it would be easier to let go if he just put a little space between the two of you. he knew it was hurting you just as much as it was hurting him, and he knew you didn’t deserve it.

it’s against his hardwiring to do anything that hurts you, and it’s reflected in how terrible his life has become in just a handful of weeks. his apartment has been filthy; the only reason it was ready for your party was because he paid the housekeeper double to come even though he wasn’t scheduled to clean for another week. his work is fortunately still fine, but he spends whole days with horrible brain fog, hardly understanding or even hearing anything anyone says to him. he hasn’t seen any friends—mutual or otherwise—because he spends all his free time in bed or drinking himself into a sobbing mess.

that’s all he can seem to do these days, is cry over you. 

soonyoung steps out into the balcony attached to his bedroom, leaning against the sliding door once it’s closed. he cranes his neck to look up toward the midnight sky, and takes a deep breath. it doesn’t help keep the tears at bay. he keeps his head tilted up. 

he knows you don’t deserve this. he knows you’re hurting and that you feel him slipping away. he saw it. just now, just before you blew your candles out, he saw the way the joy and life immediately fled your eyes when they landed on him. he wonders what you saw. did you see the apathy he was desperately forcing? did you see how sad he was at all? 

because he is. he’s the saddest he’s felt since you told him you would rather be on vacation with someone you were in love with seven years ago. someone who wasn’t him. maybe he’s even sadder now. at least back then, he was foolish enough to hope you would change your mind. at least back then, he had time on his side.

now, it’s over, and now, it’s time to give himself a fair chance to move on. you don’t deserve what he’s putting you through, and it’s true for him too. he doesn’t deserve what he’s put himself through for the last decade. 

countless nights you fell asleep at his place, countless times he wished he could gather you up in his arms and carry you into a bed you shared. all the times you told him you loved him and he desperately wanted to beg you to repeat it, even if it was just so he could pretend you meant it the way he needed you to mean it. whole weeks spent overseas on all kinds of vacations, time he spent daydreaming that this was what a honeymoon with you could feel like.

it all adds up to a decade of putting his heart on the backburner so he could allow himself to continue loving you.

soonyoung scoffs at himself when the tears refuse to stop welling in his eyes. he shakes his head and steps forward, resting his forearms against his railing and staring at the blackness in front of him.

part of him hates the version of himself from seven years ago that thought making this stupid promise was a good idea. what good can come from not loving you? but the reason he’s stuck to pulling away and holding you at arm’s distance is because that version of himself somehow knew the pain would grow more and more, year after year.

he can’t do this for the rest of his life—can’t just keep making room for more heartache the older he gets. you’re 30 now, and even though you insist you’re fine and have no desire to date, he knows you’ll get restless soon. and when he thinks of you finally deciding you want to have a boyfriend, he wants to vomit. when he thinks of some other asshole’s hands on you, his lips on yours—when he thinks of you sighing anyone’s name but his, he gets near homicidal over something that isn’t even real. at least not yet.

soonyoung doesn’t want to wait for that to happen. he doesn’t want to wait for you to hate him for being unable to share you—and he won’t be able to share you. he also doesn’t want you to have to face the pressure of having to choose between a best friend and a boyfriend. 

instead, he’d rather you start to hate him slowly, over time. he’d rather you allow him his space and not even realize you hate him for slipping away and leaving you behind—not until it’s years later, when you hear his name in passing, and you think, he just left, and you tell yourself it’s fine because your life is better without him anyway.

it hurts you now, but it’ll hurt less later. it’ll hurt less for both of you to endure this silence now, rather than fight until there’s nothing but resentment.

the door behind soonyoung slides open forcefully and slams closed a moment later. he flinches, looking over his shoulder to see who entered his room and ready to tell them to get out. when he sees you, though, he turns back away, trying to discreetly wipe his eyes.

“what are you doing?”

he quietly clears his throat, hoping he doesn’t sound too worn when he speaks. “just needed some air.”

“no.”

you say it in that tone that always scared him a little. it’s when he knew you were about to get your way. he wasn’t interested in doing the whole fighting thing with you; he just gave you whatever you wanted the moment this voice came out of your mouth. it always drew a smile out of you and it made his life easier.

this is about to be the one and only time he can’t let you have your way.

“what are you doing?”

soonyoung squeezes his eyes shut, like that will help him brace himself against the conversation he has to have with you.

this was coming, he tells himself. you knew this was coming. she was never just going to let you go without an explanation.

“why are you ignoring me?” you ask, voice cracking. it takes everything in him to stay where he stands and keep from wrapping his arms around you, apologizing, and begging you to stop crying. “why are you avoiding me? why are you acting like i’m not your best friend?”

soonyoung opens his eyes and almost laughs. best friend. he doesn’t know when the term became so derogatory to him. anyone would be lucky to be in your life, let alone be your best friend. he hates it anyway.

he’s your best friend. you’re not his. he would never dream of calling you that—at least not without calling you the love of his life first. his most beloved. the woman he would give anything to marry. on the totem pole of things he wants to call you, best friend is at the bottom.

“because you’re not,” he says honestly. he immediately regrets it when he hears the small whimper that escapes you. “at least, i don’t want you to be,” he adds, hoping it will soften the blow of what he just said.

“what are you saying?” 

soonyoung feels so tired and sad and heartbroken. he hangs his head a little as he takes a deep breath.

“what are you saying, soonyoung?” you repeat when he doesn’t answer immediately. patience was never your strong suit.

when he’s sure he’s not going to start sobbing upon turning, he finally faces you, and even then, he can’t bring himself to look you in the eye. if he does, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to do this.

“do you remember your 23rd birthday?” he asks, gaze fixed on the stain on his balcony where you dropped a smoothie and he insisted you leave it instead of cleaning it. he forgot to do it himself and now he has a permanent reminder of how whipped he is for you.

“siquijor,” you basically spit at him. he feels your walls coming up. he feels your defenses getting ready, and he knows you’re aware of what he’s about to do. “what about it?”

siquijor. the best and worst trip of his life.

“i think i’m drunk,” you announced, words slurring so badly, soonyoung was convinced anyone else wouldn’t be able to understand what you were saying.

“what?” he asked sarcastically. “no way. what makes you say that?” 

soonyoung loved being sober when you were drunk like this. he loved hearing and seeing all the silly shit you’d never say or do sober. most of all, he loved taking care of you. he loved pretending he meant something more to you and this was just another boyfriend duty of his—making sure his drunk girlfriend was happy and hydrated and safe, and that when she woke up, she had a lineup of hangover cures at her disposal.

you answered with the gnarliest burp. he burst into loud laughter, grateful the beach was far enough away from any rooms that the two of you weren’t disturbing anyone.

after a few moments, he realized you weren’t laughing along, simply leaning back on your elbows in the sand, smiling softly at him. he did what he does best: he pretended. he pretended you were just a lovesick girl staring at someone she yearned for. he pretended you wanted him just as badly as he needed you. he pretended you were in love.

“penny for your thoughts, you drunkard?” 

you giggled, slipping off of your elbows and laying all the way down. he joined you, both of you looking up at the sky. it was different here than it was back home. it was quiet and warm and there was no light to disrupt the view of the stars. he loved that he was seeing something like this for the first time with you.

“my thoughts are worth more than a penny.”

he snorted. even drunk, you were a brat. “nickel?”

“nice try. a hundred bucks, buddy.”

“ha!” he shouted. “never mind, keep your thoughts to yourself.”

“soonie!” you half whined, half burped. he made a face of disgust at you. he thought he did a good job of hiding how endeared he was.

“gross.” soonyoung sighed, turning back to the sky. “fifty.”

you giggled. “deal.” there was no way in hell you were going to remember he owed you $50. “i’m thinking… i am having the best time of my life.”

his heart swelled knowing he did well for your birthday celebration.

he let his head loll to the side, watching you. you had your hands folded politely over your ribs and your legs were crossed at the ankles, your feet swaying side to side like there was a song playing that only you could hear. if soonyoung concentrated hard enough, he thought he could hear it too. it sounded like what he imagined his love for you would if it were a song.

you smiled at the stars like you were talking to them. 

“i’m so happy,” you said. “best birthday ever, soonyoung. best month ever. thank you. i love you so much.”

“you’re welcome, y/n,” he said, voice coming out barely above a whisper. “i love you too.” so god damn much.

you turned to look at him when he said that, your smile fading naturally the longer you looked at him. “i…” you trailed off, frowning a little before you continued. “i think… i think i feel lonely, though.”

he mirrored your frown, immediately bringing his body closer to yours. he rested a hand on top of yours. “what’s wrong?”

you opened your mouth but before you could start speaking, you were suddenly crying. 

“y/n?” he sat up, bringing you up with him. “what’s wrong, baby?” his eyes widened at the slip-up, but you were too drunk to notice, frantically wiping the tears that kept streaming down your face.

“i’m so happy,” you breathed, hand still in his. “this is everything i’ve ever wanted. this is everything i could ever dream of having.” 

your words were still slurred and with the addition of the crying to your inebriated state, you’re hiccuping badly as you speak. 

“then why are you crying?” he asked. “why do you feel lonely?”

“this is what i want from y—from…” you hiccuped again. “this is everything i want from someone i’m in love with.”

he felt his heart drop into his stomach, and he couldn’t help the way his hand stiffened in yours. he pulled away.

“oh” was all he could bring himself to say.

what else was he supposed to say to that?

“i’m in love with you. please let me be the one that gets to give this to you.”

“please love me.”

“please don’t break my heart like this.”

he couldn’t say any of it.

“i want you to want… i want…” you kept hiccuping, and despite feeling like his heart was breaking into smithereens, soonyoung found it in himself to rub your back comfortingly. “i want—” you cut yourself off with another hiccup.

“shhh.” it came out in a daze. the sky looked darker. the stars looked duller. the water wasn’t as bright anymore. “it’s okay. it’s okay.” he didn’t know if he was telling you or himself. “it’s okay.”

soonyoung pulled you into his arms, still rubbing your back as he tucked your head under his chin. he didn’t bother trying to find the right words to tell you; he knew you probably wouldn’t remember any of this. so he allowed himself to feel heartbroken as you wept and hiccuped until eventually, you fell asleep.

and when you did, it was his turn. he silently cried until the sun came up, and when it did, soonyoung gathered you up in his arms and carried you back—only as a friend, to a bed you’d never share.

“it hurt,” he says, tears finally beginning to stream down his face.

soonyoung never shied away from crying in front of you; he did it kind of often. but there’s something especially humiliating about it now. he’s wrapped up in his sadness, and it’s suffocating him, making it hard to speak. he thinks if he does, he might choke on his grief.

“it hurt more than anything i’ve ever felt, y/n,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. he isn’t sure if you heard him, but he can’t bring himself to repeat it.

your hands close over his, where they hold the lapel of his jacket around your shoulders. he doesn’t even know when he took it off to put it on you. loving you was exactly like that—an instinct he didn’t have to think twice about. loving you was just something that happened without his knowledge or permission.

“soonyoung,” you call his name, high and desperate. your defenses have come down. you’re not using that scary voice on him anymore. you’re not bracing yourself. he thinks you should be. “that’s not what i meant. i—”

“it’s okay,” he breathes, so many tears in his eyes, he can barely make out the shape of you. he blinks rapidly to expel them. “i’ve had time to—”

“but if you would just let me ex—”

“there’s nothing to explain,” he interjects softly, eyes coming to you now that he can properly see past his tears. “i stayed around, didn’t i?”

your fight falters and you stop trying to talk over him.

“i stayed for seven more years. if i needed you to explain, i would’ve asked the second you woke up sober.”

your shoulders fall and he knows the rest of your fight has dissipated into the night. the next question you ask almost breaks his resolve. “only seven?”

the question comes out small and quiet and defeated, and soonyoung feels his lips tremble. he rolls them between his teeth to stop himself from telling you something he doesn’t want to say: no, of course not only seven. you’ll have me wrapped around your finger until the day i die.

he takes his hands back from under your hold once he’s absolutely sure he won’t say something that would disappoint the version of him that sat on that beach in siquijor, swearing that he wouldn’t let himself feel that heartbroken in the next decade of his life. 

“i didn’t mind waiting seven more years to see if you would ever return my feelings,” he says instead of answering you, fully aware of how badly his voice wavers as he speaks. “my friends, they told me i was insane for letting my 20s go to waste like that. but to me… if i still got to be around you, still give you experiences and love that made you feel like that’s what you deserved from someone you actually were in love with, then… i can’t see the issue in that. i’d happily wait seven more years. because even if it was seven years of the same longing—and even if it was seven years leading to nothing more, it was still seven years of me being able to show you how well i could…”

he swallows the lump in his throat and fails. he shakes his head and just says what he should’ve told you seven years ago.

“how well i could love you. how much i do love you.”

you look dumbfounded, and if this were any other situation—if soonyoung didn’t feel like he was actually fucking dying—he thinks he’d make fun of you. your eyes are the widest he’s ever seen them, and your mouth is parted like you’re poised to say something but you don’t even know what.

“soonie—” you start.

he doesn’t let you finish. he can’t. he’s so close to ending this—to doing the worst thing he’s ever going to have to do—and if he lets you finish, he’ll lose the courage to walk away.

“i told myself… while you slept in my lap on that beach in siquijor, that if by the time you turned 30, we still hadn’t moved past… this…” he can’t stand the look of horror on your face as you start to process what he’s saying. he looks at the sky behind your head instead. “then, i wouldn’t spend my 30s torturing myself anymore. i’d let you go.”

you don’t let even a millisecond pass before you practically scream: “i don’t want you to let me go!” at him so forcefully, he flinches. “i don’t want you to let me go, you stupid idiot! if that’s what you’ve been doing the last, few weeks, ‘letting me go’—” you make exaggerated air quotes with your fingers and a face that tells him you think he’s ridiculous. it catches him so off-guard, he almost laughs. “—then knock it off!”

you slap his chest to each word to punctuate your point. 

“wh—?” he brings his arm up reflexively to defend himself.

“what i meant to tell you, it came out wrong,” you inform him. his arms slowly fall back to his side as he listens to you as closely as he can. “i didn’t even mean to tell you anything, but if drunk me outed me like that, i need you to know that’s not what i meant.”

the words came out of your mouth in a rush like you thought soonyoung wouldn’t let you say them if you took too long. when he doesn’t say anything in the brief silence, you take a deep breath, obviously trying to steady yourself.

“i was lonely. i was really lonely,” you admit, seeming to remember the feeling more than you did the actual conversation. “and yes, it was because i enjoyed that vacation so much and yes, it was because i wished i could have it with someone i was in love with, but i was having it with someone i was in love with!”

everything in soonyoung’s body tenses, like his own defenses are coming up—like this is some kind of joke and his body is preparing to be laughed at. because you just said you were on vacation with someone you were in love with in the philippines… but you were on vacation with him in the philippines… 

his body braces itself.

“i just meant i wanted it to mean more for both of us,” you continue, hands waving erratically between you to drive your point home. “i wanted to be on vacation with you!” 

your brows furrow and your lips thin as you helplessly fight off a wave of tears he knows is pushing to be released. he knows that when you’re too emotional—whether it’s sadness, joy, rage—you cry, and once you do, you end up blubbering for so long, you usually end up asleep at the end of it.

but still, you bravely fight it off, obviously determined to tell soonyoung what you need to.

“but you as my boyfriend! not you as my best friend! there’s no one else i would’ve wanted to be with, soonyoung!”

he’s glad his body is stiff enough to keep his knees from immediately giving out under him. because all soonyoung wants to do now is fall to the floor and cry. cry because he never thought you’d say these words, because he felt like he was getting back something he lost on the beaches of siquijor, because the two of you wasted a decade dancing around each other instead of just fucking saying something.

“do you think i’ve been single our entire friendship for fun?!” you shriek the question through tears. “do you think it’s fun being the 30-year-old virgin who’s never even kissed anyone?! because it’s not!”

you whined about this often early on in your friendship, but eventually the complaints petered out, and he would drive himself crazy wondering if it was because that changed—if someone else had taken those firsts.

did it happen? 

she would tell me.

right?

no, i’m still a dude. that’s weird, she’d probably tell a girl.

no no, i’m her stupid ass best friend. she would tell me!

oh my god, would she tell me?

what if i just die?

and so the cycle would go. he knows it wasn’t any of his business and that if you had lost those firsts to someone else, that was your prerogative, but still, he feels relieved to hear that isn’t the case.

and he knows he has no right to—not when you haven’t had the proper conversation to hash things out yet—but he suddenly feels an overwhelming possessiveness for you. because he waited for you. no one was ever going to make him stray away from you, so he waited for you—never expecting, just hoping. sorely hoping. and now he knows you waited for him too, and now… now, all he can think about is making you his. all soonyoung can think about now is giving you all the things you abstained from in the hopes you’d have it with him of all people.

it’s what you deserve, isn’t it? for waiting? and isn’t he in the business of giving you what you deserve? his hand twitches, begging him to reach for you and kiss you stupid.

“but i didn’t want anyone else! i wanted you!” you point at him almost violently, and his heart grows too big for his chest. “you waited seven years, but i waited ten! TEN, soonyoung! do you—”

his willpower can only withstand so much. at the end of the day, soonyoung is just a man who’s pathetically in love with you, and hearing you say you wanted him—hearing you confirm you waited your entire friendship just for the chance to have him and be with him and only him—it completely undoes his entire being.

soonyoung’s mouth is on yours before his brain can fully process what’s happening. he feels the shock on your lips for only a moment before you’re moving. despite it being your first kiss, you respond quickly, your body knowing exactly what to do with soonyoung’s like it’s second nature.

you taste like tears and champagne, and even with all the extravagant dinners he’s taken you on and the places around the world you’ve traveled to together, this is the best thing he’s ever tasted. 

soonyoung thinks he’s happy to stand here, kissing you and tasting you and listening to your cute, little breaths against him forever. but then your hands start exploring him—his hips, his waist, his chest, before wrapping around his neck and bringing him in to kiss you even deeper. and he knows immediately that all the strength he mustered up to deal with tonight is gone. the moan that comes up his throat is loud and bordering on obscene, but you smile upon taking it into your own mouth, as if you’re feeding on his desire. as if you love the taste of it.

soonyoung doesn’t wait after that. he can’t wait after that. without letting your lips separate, he guides you back into his room, careful to keep you from tripping over the threshold and all the crap he left on the floor when he was busy having his pity parties.

he lays you in his bed gently, thankful that even though it’s unmade, he at least had the housekeeper wash his sheets. he lays on top of you, trying not to let his weight crush you, but when you wrap your arms around him, you press him to your body as close as it can possibly go, and after he releases his entire weight on you, you hold him like even that still isn’t close enough.

it’s all so much. after spending so long hoping you’d one day want him even a fraction as much as he wants you, tasting the excitement on you and feeling the adoration in your hands as they feel every surface of his body they could reach—it’s so much. 

it wears down his self-restraint. 

you don’t seem to mind, though, because when he runs his tongue along your lips, asking permission for more, you open your mouth immediately. and when his tongue slips in and meets yours, the moan he gets back is so loud and uninhibited and hot, he feels it in his dick.

you giggle a little, and though you recover quickly and continue trying to make out with him after that, the sound delights him enough that he stops to look at you. your makeup is tear stained and your eyes are still a little red, but you look worlds different than you did just a few minutes ago. there’s no tightness in your smile, no devastation in your eyes, no anger furrowed into your brows. when he looks at you this close, he realizes he’s never seen you this happy, this excited, or this light—like you’ve been relieved of a burden that was too heavy for you. but really, the most different thing about you now is that you just look like you’re his.

“what’s so funny, hm?” he asks, resting his forehead on yours. at the start of this night, he didn’t think he would ever hear you giggle again. 

“nothing,” you claim, even though your voice still has traces of amusement somewhere in there. your hand snakes up into his hair and starts scratching his scalp. he hums at the sensation. “i love you, soonyoung.”

he lifts his forehead to look at you. it’s his millionth time hearing you say that. it’s the first time he’s hearing it in the context he’s wished to hear it for the last decade. 

you love him. you love him. you love him.

“i’ve always loved you,” you announce unabashedly. “from the very start.”

in retrospect, the proper thing to do would’ve been to tell you he loved you too—so much that he didn’t even know how to process it well enough to attempt to put it into words. but instead, he pushes himself off you, slightly ashamed that your confession made his dick go from semi-hard to rock hard in record time, but insanely elated (and painfully and obviously turned on) at the idea of you having spent your entire friendship loving him just as much. 

when he sits back, his pants uncomfortably pull against his erection, and he winces, glancing down at it and silently scolding it to stop embarrassing him and have some goddamn decorum. 

he clears his throat and looks back at you, where you’re now propped up on your elbows, smiling at his crotch like it’s already yours. it ruins him.

soonyoung is going to tell you he loves you. and sure, you already know because he already did, but now he gets to tell you knowing you feel the same. so he’s going to tell you, and he’s going to say it over and over and over again, but once he does, he gets the feeling that he won’t want to stop at just kissing you.

he knows it’s probably a lot—to go from what you were to… this, and on top of that, lose your first kiss. and even though you made it clear that he’s the only reason you even remained a virgin, he doesn’t want to assume you’re ready to do something as big as have sex for the first time tonight too.

soonyoung wishes he could be a bigger person than the horny teenager he feels like right now. he wishes he could stop this for the both of you and insist on having a conversation first before things get any further like a proper adult would. but you want him and you love him, and it’s driving him absolutely fucking crazy, and if he gets any harder, his dick is going to start hurting.

“how far?” he asks, his voice so pathetically needy, he wants to die. “i don’t want you to feel rushed or pressured. i just…” he falters, trying to find a way to say this without making it sound like it’s all he wants from you. “we wasted so much time.” not a great start. “and i—”

“all the way,” you say, a coy smile on your lips when you interrupt him. his pants stretch even tighter. 

it’s clear he was worrying for nothing; from the way you look at him, he knows you understand what he’s desperately trying to say and failing. 

he watches you with heavy-lidded eyes as you lay yourself back down and wrap your legs around his torso, doing nothing when your already short dress rides all the way up to expose you. 

“please,” you add on so sweetly, he groans. he won’t be lasting long at all tonight.

soonyoung rests his hands on your thighs, thumbs instinctively rubbing circles into the soft skin there as he tries to take a moment to process everything in front of him. he knows if he doesn’t, the excitement will paint over his memories with zero remorse, and all he’ll remember is that it happened—not what he said, did, or heard. and this is absolutely something he needs to remember. 

he has to remember the way your knees quickly and easily fall apart and away from each other at his touch—almost like they’re sighing in relief at his arrival. he has to remember how your lower back arches and your pelvis wriggles underneath his fingertips before he’s even really done anything to you. soonyoung’s gaze rakes over your figure, taking note of every, little thing he can, when finally, they land on something that lays his fears to rest. 

because there is no way he’ll ever forget the moment his eyes found the space between your legs. he stares at you now—right on the spot where your panties are already drenched with your arousal. soonyoung doesn’t care how overwhelming his excitement is right now; there is simply no possible way his brain will be able to gloss over this no matter how many years pass: the moment he saw physical evidence of just how much you craved him and needed him. how much you’ve deprived yourself of him.

and now, he gets to give you anything and everything you want from him.

his hands begin to travel up your thighs, goosebumps following the trail of his fingertips. he stops just shy of your cunt, trying to breathe deeply enough to calm his thunderous heartbeat. if he gets too lost in this, he’ll cum in his pants, and he will never forgive himself. 

he stares hard at your desire, just barely able to keep from screaming when he realizes the dark spot is slowly growing the longer he sits there, unmoving. you squirm under him, and his hands involuntarily squeeze in response. your thighs are plush in his grasp, so full and beautiful, your flesh is forcing its way into the spaces between his fingers and turning white from hard he grips you.

don’t fucking cum right now, you loser, he thinks hard to himself. you cannot cum before anything happens during your first time with y/n. he exhales deeply and slowly. i will literally kill you if you cum right now.

he’s so tempted to look you in the eye just to see if you’re struggling even a fraction of the amount that he is, but he knows eye contact with you right now will just set his progress back. 

when he’s mostly confident he won’t immediately finish in his pants, he has to swallow the idiotic smile that threatens to take over his entire face. finally, soonyoung gives in and he moves. just one finger, pressed against the part of your panties that sinks just a tiny bit more than the rest—right where he plans to be in the next few minutes, stuffing you full as far as he’ll go. 

as soon as you feel his fingertip brush against your entrance, your hole pulses like it’s trying to clamp around something bigger than his finger that isn’t there. he feels some of the control he has on that pathetic smile of his slip, and as if it’s an avalanche, the rest of his control comes crashing down. without thinking about it, his finger sinks the tiniest bit deeper as he drags it up your slit, the wetness from your panties catching on his skin ever so slightly.

when his finger finds and presses on your clit, you begin uncontrollably writhing and gasping beneath him, and his eyes tear themselves away from your cunt long enough to finally meet your gaze. you look at him with so much lust and love and longing—all of it so loudly desperate—he completely loses track of where his finger is and what it’s doing. all he wants to do is latch his lips onto yours again and say what he should’ve at least ten times by now: that he loves you.

so instead of rubbing your clit until he teases your first orgasm out of you like he planned to, he removes his hand from your center so that he can lean forward and kiss you senseless. but as soon as his touch leaves you, a strangled whine forces its way up your throat and past your lips, making him laugh immediately. 

“what?” you ask, your eyes narrowing at him. it should invoke fear in him, but he’s too endeared for that. “why are you laughing?! did i do something embarrassing?”

soonyoung scoffs as he brings himself over you. “‘embarrassing’? no, baby.” he rolls his eyes. “your neediness is not ‘embarrassing.’ it’s fucking hot.”

you turn the prettiest shade of pink. “shut up.”

he grins. “gladly.”

soonyoung kisses your nose, enjoying the shade of pink it turned under your blush. then, he kisses your lips, just for a moment so that he can lean back and look you in the eye when he says:

“i love you. i love you so god damn much, i thought i was going to die having to leave you.”

he knows it’s dramatic, but he was convinced that’s exactly what was happening to him not even an hour ago. the thought of doing life without you by his side made everything look and feel so colorless and dull and boring and ugly. dead was as good a word as any to describe what his life would look like without you. 

“you’re not leaving me,” you say so matter-of-factly, the smile it brings to his face hurts his cheeks. he was so dumb to think he could; even if he had all the strength in the world to end your friendship, you would’ve never let him off the hook that easily. 

“i’m not,” he says. 

soonyoung gets to work covering you in as many kisses as humanly possible, his lips pressing against your mouth, jaw, neck, collarbone—wherever you have skin, his lips are all over it. your gasps and moans reach a fever pitch, and he figures it’s time to stop making you wait. 

“you tell me if you want to stop, okay?” he asks, lips brushing against your ears as he speaks. “and we’ll stop, no questions asked.” 

you nod so eagerly—so obediently—he can’t help but smirk. his tongue darts out to lick your lobe and bring it between his teeth to nip at before he starts kissing his way down your body. 

“you sound so pretty,” he tells you as you continue to make sure he knows exactly how good you feel. all moans and groans and whispered begging. “exactly how i imagined you’d sound.” his lips graze your already hard nipples through the fabric of your dress and he earns another loud whimper. “fuck, even better actually.”

he pulls your dress down and off one shoulder to expose the breast he was just teasing, and when he sees you bare, he hangs his head, letting his forehead meet your chest as he grunts loudly. 

what is my life? he thinks to himself. this is literally insane.

soonyoung flattens his tongue against your nipple, and you inhale sharply, your hips immediately bucking up. he doesn’t realize his eyes have fluttered closed until he opens them to look at you and make sure you’re okay. from the way your eyes roll into the back of your head and your mouth hangs open in dazed ecstasy, he thinks it’s safe to assume you’re okay.

“soonyoung.”

god, his name sounds so good when you say it, especially when you say it like this.

“fuck,” he grumbles against your tit. he swears his dick is throbbing from how hard you have him.

“lower! please, god, lower!” you order him. 

“whatever you want,” he breathes against your skin. 

but he’s not moving before he has the chance to leave a tiny, little something that can lay claim to you—something only he and you will see. he presses his hand against the side of your breast, groaning at how full you are in his palm. he leans down and bites into the flesh just above your nipple. your hips jerk up as he sucks on the spot just long enough that he knows it will stay a few days. he smiles when he releases you, the hickey already turning a beautiful purple. 

“pretty,” he mutters. he wants to cover you in them. he kisses the mark gently before removing the other strap of your dress. 

with the bottom of your dress completely ridden up and the top half bunched around your waist, you’re almost completely naked, and already, soonyoung can hardly refrain from jumping off his bed and running around the room screaming.

fucking breathe, bro.

he gently lifts your hips up and off the bed so that he can slip both your dress and your ruined panties off your body in one go. once he does, all the refraining he’s been doing tonight comes to a brusque end. 

“oh my god!” he shouts, burying his face into your clothes and groaning into them. “i can’t believe this is my life right now, oh my god.” 

soonyoung presses your clothes against his eyes so hard, he thinks he should see stars, but still, all he can see are your perfect tits and your bare, glistening cunt and the sensual look in your eyes like they’re all forever burned into his retinas. or maybe his eyes are open?

he blinks and brings your clothes down just enough to be able to take a peek at you. nope, the image of your naked body in his bed are definitely just burned into his eyeballs. 

“oh my god, i really have you naked in my bed right now, oh my god oh my god oh my god.” he probably says it 20 more times. he’s not sure. 

“soonyoung!” you berate his behavior the way you always do. he smiles into your dress because even as everything is literally changing before his eyes… nothing has. you’re still his best friend, pretending to get mad at him for being silly. he knows from the fond way you look at him that you aren’t mad at all. “focus! come on, you’re just teasing me now. please.”

“okay, okay!” he says, voice muffled by your dress. “i’m so sorry, i’m not trying to tease you, i swear. i just…” he stammers, unable to stop the whole bunch of nothing that comes spilling out of his mouth. “i’m—just, i—it’s just, like… what?” the question comes out as a laugh. “y’know?” 

you raise an eyebrow at him and he realizes he isn’t really sure what he’s asking you. 

“like, what the actual fuck?” he adds like that will help explain. 

you groan. “it’s crazy how quickly you go from sex god to loser.”

soonyoung feels his face immediately fall into a glare—one you’re used to seeing whenever you two bicker. “you know…” he says, eyes narrowed at you. “my favorite thing about you has always been your patience.”

he throws your clothes aside, hands going to his shirt to begin unbuttoning it. 

“good thing i have a lot of it then,” you claim. your bratty smirk falls right off your face as you watch him slowly undress. 

“right.”

when he shrugs his shirt off and lets it join your clothes on the floor, your eyes widen like you’re seeing him shirtless for the first time. your eyes sweep up and down his torso, your chest heaving as you begin to breathe harder, and it almost makes him shy—almost makes him want to hug himself and jokingly tell you to stop ogling him like a piece of meat. but he also enjoys it more than anything. 

so many times you’ve been half naked together, wearing swimsuits at the beach or at the pool, and although he’s relished having your eyes on him before, this feels different. you stare at him shamelessly now, making no move to avert your eyes the way you used to. this is where he would make a joke to lighten the mood—to give you an out from a situation you might feel caged in by. 

this time, he just allows himself the space to revel in this feeling of being adored. 

“wait,” you say suddenly when he stands up off the bed and his hands start undoing his belt. you crawl over to him, completely naked, and he thinks he might have a heart attack watching you on all fours like this. 

“change your mind? it’s fine if you do,” he assures you, already fastening his belt before his dick can get any more ideas about where the night is going. 

“no,” you laugh as you rest your hands on top of his. “i’m not going to change my mind, soonie.”

you sound as sure as he does about this. it relaxes him immediately. you smile at him before you press your naked body against his, tangle your hands in his hair, and bring his face down to lock lips with you again. he holds you delicately as your tongues slide against each other—different from how he’s pressed, tugged, and groped at you tonight. he forces himself to be gentler. he forces himself to slow down and enjoy the feeling of being in love with you openly. 

he says as much. “i love you. oh my god, i love you. holy shit.”

“don’t start with the loser behavior again, please,” you mutter against the kiss. he wants to laugh, but he doesn’t dare leave your lips. “but i love you too.”

soonyoung doesn’t think he’ll get tired of hearing it. the past 10 years of his life have led up to this moment. it will take so much more than that for him to ever get used to the feeling of you telling him you love him.

he rests his forehead against yours and smiles. “i’m so happy.”

“me too, soonie.”

he watches as your hands leave his hair and travel down his chest, taking their time to trace every line and curve of every muscle. you finish the job of undoing his belt and unbuttoning his jeans, and that’s about all he can take before he decides it’s time to stop holding back. 

before you can even touch his zipper, he grabs your face and kisses you roughly, tongue twisting with yours immediately. he kisses you like he’s held his breath for 10 years and you’re air. you kiss him back the same, exact way. 

he finishes undressing, kicking his pants away and wasting no time picking you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he does. his cock twitches violently once it’s sandwiched between you and his stomach, and he has you laying back in his bed in mere seconds. 

our bed, a voice in his head reminds him. a bed we can share. if you want.

when you tear yourself away from him to catch your breath, your eyes immediately go south, and he doesn’t have to follow your gaze to know what you’re gaping at. 

“see something you like?”

you don’t even pretend to hear what he said. “uh, what?”

it inflates his ego to unprecedented levels, but he doesn’t gloat and annoy you the way he usually would. mostly because his laughs are cut off with your frantic begging. 

“soonyoung,” you whisper so suddenly and seriously, he freezes. “put it in me.”

the order catches him by so much surprise, he laughs even harder than before. “i can’t just put it in you.”

you shove him and he pushes off the bed to put some space in between you. he looks at you, amused. “what?! what do you mean you can’t just put it in me?” you sound the most offended he’s ever heard you. “is that not how sex works? you put that in me? like… over and over again?

“baby, please,” his laughs are bordering on uncontrollable wheezing. “you’re making this so unsexy.”

“you made it unsexy first!” you complain. “put it in me, soonyoung!”

he wants to keep pretending that this is incredibly unsexy, but this exchange, however goofy, is just making him want to fuck you even more. “stop saying that!”

“why?! you keep making me wait!” 

the way you complain and beg makes soonyoung briefly forget that you’re losing your virginity, and he isn’t letting that happen without proper foreplay first—without getting at least one orgasm out of you.

“pu—”

before you can tell him to put it in you again, he presses his hand against your mouth. “okay!” he says, raising his voice to drown out your muffled pleas. “okay! shhh. relax, and i will. alright?” your eyes widen and he feels a burn in his stomach when he sees the submission in them. you nod. “good girl.”

you moan into his hand and grind your hips up into his. 

“oh, you like that?” he asks, smirking. all you do is squirm more. 

he releases your mouth, and when you stay silent on your own accord—so willingly compliant—he thinks there are a few things he’d like to try in bed later on down the line.

soonyoung plants a wet kiss on your lips before he rests his hand against your neck, eyes watching as you swallow underneath his fingertips. he thinks you look pretty like this: bare throat adorned by his fingers. he has a passing thought to ask you if you would ever be into being choked, but there’s no fucking way he’d do that during your first time having sex. he lets the thought go, making note of it for a later time. 

“so pretty,” he says, finger tapping your lower lip. when you take his finger into your mouth all the way, sucking it and releasing it with a pop, he has to spend a few moments reminding himself he can’t cum already. “jesus christ…” he sighs. he needs to move fast or he will be embarrassing himself tonight. “let me know if i do anything you don’t like, okay?”

you nod quickly���impatiently. your enthusiasm stutters when he doesn’t immediately “put it in” like you’ve been begging. you frown as he pulls away again, but when he settles with his head between your legs, your tune changes immediately. 

“oh.”

soonyoung has dreamed about this moment for so long. he’s had obscene, vulgar thoughts about you—thoughts he would touch himself to. he’s spent an embarrassing amount of nights moaning your name while vigorously grinding into his fist, and all it took for him to cum was the thought of tasting you. he didn’t even have to think about fucking into your pussy or how wet you would be or how warm you would feel—all he thought about was eating you out until you came all over his face, and that would do it for him. 

if he was looking to get a quick orgasm, maybe release some frustration from a day spent hanging out with you, he’d just rub one out in the shower. but if it was one of those nights he was tossing and turning, thinking about how much he loved you and how much he wanted you to be his, he’d throw his blankets off, grab a bottle of lotion, a box of tissues, and sometimes, when he was feeling especially depraved, his favorite photos he’s taken of you. there was something about looking at photos no one else has seen of you—no matter how ordinary or innocent—that turned him on.

his daydreams always started with getting you sinfully wet. yes, with your own arousal, but with his spit too. he’d massage it into your clit, mixing the both of you and your pleasures together until your hips are bucking and shoving your needy cunt in his face. then, he’d give in and lap your clit gently and the first taste would send his eyes rolling into the back of his head. he would try to stay cool and composed, but realistically, he knew tasting you would send him into a frenzy. 

he’d already be close by this point in his fantasies, whining and groaning, his phone and photos of you long forgotten because he has to squeeze his eyes shut to keep from coming before he could finish playing everything out in his head.  

because soonyoung couldn’t cum before his favorite part: when he would imagine shoving his face as far in between your legs as he could, extending his tongue as far into you as humanly possible. you’d say his name the way no one has ever said his name. you’d pull at his hair until he was sure you were permanently damaging all of his follicles. sometimes, he’d immediately cum after this. other times, he’d be able to at least get to the part where he starts fucking you with his fingers. 

on lucky days, he would reach the end of his dreams. by this time, he’d be feverishly tugging on his cock, a mess of sweat and whimpers of your name as he thought about you squirting all over his face. he would drink you up like it’s the fucking elixir of life. you would make the filthiest mess of his face—chin dripping, cheeks sticky, lips swollen and covered in you—and he would thank you for it and beg for more. of course, more would never come because he would make a mess of his own hand after that. 

he always felt like a pervert after—always felt so guilty picturing his best friend like this and doing something so dirty with you in mind—but the next night would come and the next night and the next, and he couldn’t think of anything else. anyone else. 

and as lewd and impure and delicious and downright euphoric as his fantasies were, nothing could have prepared him for how much fucking better the real thing would feel. how much better the real you would taste. 

by the time you cum on his face, not once but twice, he knows this is something he can do for the rest of his life. he would never even need you to fuck him or blow him or give him a handjob; all he literally needs is to devour your cunt any time you’d grant him the privilege to and he’d be a happy man for the rest of his life. 

you’re still panting, chest heaving from your orgasms, when soonyoung climbs up over you once more and wraps his arms around your waist, kissing, nipping, licking, and whispering i-love-yous from your collarbone and up until he reaches your lips. he kisses you lightly just in case you don’t want to put your lips on him after he just ate you out, but when you deepen the kiss and hug him even closer, he thinks you might actually like the taste of you on his mouth. 

“soonie,” you eventually whisper against him. 

“mmm?” 

you say something that he’s been wanting to hear for a decade. you confirm something he’s been desperately searching for signs of for your entire friendship. “i want to be yours. i want to be yours so bad.”

he stops peppering you with kisses and watches you carefully, like this all might still be a hallucination that will fade if he gets too lost in the moment. but you remain where you are, looking at him with as much love as he imagines he’s always looked at you. tears gather in your eyes, some escaping the corners. he catches every single one that does, pressing it back into your skin with his finger. 

when you give him a small smile to tell him you’re okay—that these are just tears of happiness—he leans in, presses his cheek to yours, and promises you, “then i’ll make you mine.”

just being inside you is enough to make soonyoung want to cry. he does his absolute fucking best not to because you already are and he doesn’t want you to think of anything other than yourself and your pleasure during your first time. but he wants to cry as he buries his face into your neck and slowly pushes into you, only moving whenever you say it’s okay to.

when he woke up today, he did it with swollen eyes from a night spent crying over you. he tortured himself all day, thinking about how every last time he had with you was the last and he didn’t even know it—the last laugh he heard, the last smile he saw, the last time you bickered with him, the last time you told him you loved him. he steeled himself to face your tears or your screaming or whatever else you did to him when he ended your friendship. 

at the start of the day, soonyoung was preparing for his life to be over—for you to take every good thing he’s ever had and felt with you when he forced you to walk away.

now, he’s fully buried inside you, forehead resting against yours as you both struggle to adjust to the overwhelming feeling of each other. it’s when you tell soonyoung that after 10 years, there’s nothing that will change your mind about him, that he finally moves. 

“oh fuck,” he breathes as he starts rolling his hips, cock dragging in and out of you in an astonishingly seamless fit. “your cunt is perfect.”

you bloom at the praise, and you don’t shy away from returning it, chanting his name over and over again, whispers of how good he feels wherever you can fit them in between—how good he is for you, how he was made for you. 

“y/n,” he gasps. he tries to tell you that if you keep saying his name like this—like he’s yours—he’s going to cum inside you. but all that comes out is: “oh my god.”

and all you say is “soonyoung” again and again and again. he’s never put any thought into his birth-given name, but tonight, he decides it’s his favorite string of letters. he never wants to hear you say anyone else’s name. he never wants anyone other than you to say his name. it’s yours and yours alone. 

at some point, he can tell you can handle even more, and he pushes up off you, using the headboard as leverage as he pounds into you harder and rougher, rhythm becoming erratic and frenzied. the noises that come out of your mouth are so nasty, he’s on the brim of losing it. 

“oh my god. look at you,” he pants, his sweat dripping from his face, his neck, and his chest onto you. a drop lands on the corner of your mouth, and without hesitating, your tongue darts out to lick it up, and he groans.

it’s too much: your neediness, your obedience, your eagerness. your tits—one sporting his hickey—bouncing wildly as he fucks you at a brutal pace. your unbelievably tight cunt, sucking his cock in so desperately, near-strangling it and refusing to let him go. 

“so fucking perfect,” he tells you. 

you make it clear that you’re not lasting long—that your third orgasm is on the horizon. it’s a bittersweet realization; on one hand, he’s relieved because he’s been holding his own orgasm off since his tongue met your clit. on the other, he never wants to stop fucking you. 

but this is just the start, he tries to remind himself. this is just the first time, and there will be so many more now—now that you’re his and he’s yours. 

your voice rings loudly in his ears again. i want to be yours so bad.

his voice is hoarse when he asks, “do you feel like you’re mine yet?”

you nod frantically, pussy squeezing tightly around him like the thought is pushing you even closer to finishing. “yes, god, yes. yes!” 

“say it,” he demands, eyes never leaving yours. he can’t look away when you look like you would say or do anything for him. 

“i’m yours,” you say immediately. “soonie… i’m yours, soonyoung.” his name comes out in a tortured whimper. 

“i never want to hear another name come out of your mouth ever again,” he declares. “ah, fuck, holy shit. you feel so fucking good, baby. just for me, huh? oh fuck.” his orgasm is begging to be released, but he refuses to let up until you reach yours. “you’re mine. and i’m yours.”

you barely finish agreeing and calling soonyoung “mine” when your pussy is suddenly and violently quivering around him, pulsing and throbbing as you ride through your third orgasm of the night. the feeling of your climax squeezing around soonyoung is unreal, and he pulls out just in time to avoid coming inside of you, painting your beautiful, soft skin with his bliss. 

it feels like it lasts forever, the spurts of white splattering you. he thinks he could get hard again when you let your mouth hang open and catch some of him on your tongue.

“holy shit,” he breathes when he’s tugged himself dry, leaning back and trying to catch his breath. he feels drops of sweat sliding down his body everywhere, his muscles burning deliciously. 

soonyoung looks down at you and is pleased to see you covered with him: his cum, his sweat, his spit. he made good on his promise. if you don’t look like his right now, he has no idea what you look like.

“c’mere,” you whine, reaching for him with grabby hands when you have no energy to sit up and actually take hold of him. 

he smiles and leans in to kiss you, before retrieving a towel from the bathroom to clean you both up with. 

for the rest of the night, you two stay tangled up in each other’s arms and talk about when you fell in love.

you: when you first met him. 

him: when you first walked into the room.

neither of you know if the other is telling the truth or if you’re just trying to win the i-loved-you-first competition (you’re both telling the truth). 

you talk about what the future looks like. you decide you don’t know for sure, but one thing you’re confident about is that you’ll be facing it together. one thing soonyoung is sure about is that he’ll be making you his wife.

you ask if you can make your anniversary two days from now so it doesn’t land on your birthday. soonyoung asks if you can make it two days prior so that he can forget that he was trying to leave you on your 30th birthday. you agree. 

you both run through every big moment either of you can remember being so hopelessly in love with each other, it hurt and what the other person was thinking at that moment. for every memory of yours soonyoung can remember, he’s able to tell you he was suffering just as much as you were. the same is true for you. for every memory he can’t remember, he feels like a kid, giggling and kicking his feet in bed with you hearing about how you were equally, pathetically down bad for him.

your birthday party is long forgotten, traded for an intimate night getting to know each other in drastically different ways than you did as best friends. soonyoung feels like he’s meeting you for the first time again—a privilege he never thought he would be afforded ever again. aside from learning what you liked from your time in his bed tonight, he learns a lot.

like for one, you actually are very into physical affection, something soonyoung thought you didn’t like displaying since you were constantly shoving him away; you just avoided it because it exacerbated your feelings for him and blurred the lines too much for you. in fact, you stay burrowed into his side the entire night, whining any time he moved a tiny bit away, even when it was just to adjust his position or reach to turn off the lamp. you love playing with his hair and tracing little patterns on his chest (he thinks one of the things you traced was your names together). you constantly thread his fingers with yours and when you get tired of that, you still keep your pinkies linked.

he learns you love hanging out at his apartment more than you like the fancy dinners. you feel the most at home with him when you’re actually home with him. you tell him your favorite nights are when you’re in charge of placing a food delivery order at his place while he unwinds from his workday, showering and changing (and unbeknownst to you, probably jacking off in the shower to make sure he doesn’t accidentally get hard while you two hang out). you say it feels like you’re his wife and this is your home too. the sentiment is enough to make him tear up, and you, of course, tease him mercilessly once a fat teardrop lands on your head.

by the time the sun is rising, soonyoung realizes you both have rewritten siquijor in the confines of his bedroom. all the miscommunication (or absolute lack thereof) and the pain and heartbreak have been replaced. from where you two lay in bed, he watches the sun’s rays start to reach into the sky, turning it stunning shades of orange, pink, purple, and blue, and for the first time in seven years, he doesn’t cringe away from it and the feelings of loneliness it used to bring. he doesn’t feel heartbroken all over again like he used to.

this time, the sun rises, and soonyoung feels so ridiculously happy. you quietly watch the sky with him, and he thinks you know what he’s thinking of as you continuously trace hearts, one after the other, never-ending, into his skin.

“it’s a new day,” you say quietly.

“it is,” he agrees, his heart full. “it’s a new day, and i love you even more than i did yesterday.”

you hug him tighter to you even though there is literally no space between you.

“i love you, soonie.” you yawn. “is it time to say good night?”

“it’s morning, baby.”

“no, we didn’t go to sleep. it’s definitely still night.”

he grins and doesn’t bother arguing with that logic. he moves to get out of bed, but you immediately lock your arms so he can’t. he snorts. “i’m just going to pull the curtains so we can sleep.”

you sigh like it’s still an inconvenience, but you release him all the same. “fine. you should get, like, a remote for them or something. isn’t that what rich people do?”

he rolls his eyes as he gets up and closes the curtains, bidding the sunrise—the best of his life—a farewell for now. “rich people stay rich by not buying things they don’t need, baby.”

“i don’t think so,” you disagree, arms opening again for soonyoung to lay back in.

“you know what, whatever you say,” he says as you kiss all the skin you can reach from where you hug him. he preens at the feeling. “you’re always right.”

you hum, smiling against him. “good boyfriend.”

“soon-to-be husband,” he mutters before yawning.

you giggle the same way you have been every time he’s corrected you tonight. “soonie-be-husband.”

he scoffs. “boo,” he heckles you. “bad! get off the stage!” you laugh harder, and it coaxes a soft smile out of him as he watches you.

“best friend” doesn’t seem like such a bad title in this moment anymore. he thinks he gets it now that he’s able to call you even more than that; it’s such an honor to be able to be both your boyfriend and your best friend now. it’s such an honor to be able to build something more on a foundation of friendship as strong as the one he shares with you.

when the laughter subsides, you both sigh, sinking into the bed further and getting comfortable.

“good night, love of mine,” he says, kissing the top of your head.

“mine,” you repeat like you can’t get enough of the sound of it. “yours.”

soonyoung smiles and his eyes flutter closed with exhaustion, thoughts bleary but still painted with you and the last 10 years as he starts to drift off to sleep. if this is what he gets to have now, whatever pain he withstood and however much time he wasted is nothing to him—just a moot point in the story you’ll both tell for years to come.

he dreams of you two in siquijor that night, this time both of you sober and wrapped in each other and in love, with the rest of your lives ahead of you.

bonus (performance unit group chat):

[leithillustration]

Adding to this: sometimes bees literally need you to take their honey in order for the hive to survive. A friend of mine didn’t harvest the honey from their first ever hive, thinking this was a kindness to the bees. Sadly it was close to winter and the type of honey the bees made was from rapeseed pollen. The honey produced from rapeseed sets very hard, and in the cold months it was so solid the poor bees couldn’t get out. The whole hive died. It was so sad. Had the honey been harvested, yes the bees would’ve had to do more work to stock up for winter, but it would’ve been after the rapeseed season had passed, so the honey produced would’ve been safer for them to have over winter.

Another key thing is the bees, like ducks and even cats in some cases, will have no qualms about just leaving if they’re not happy. Bees choose to stay put when they’re well looked after. What more incentive would a bee keeper need to keep their hives in good working order? The last thing they want is for their bees to move out, then have to deal with phone calls from the panicked car owner a mile down the road who now has an entire swarm trying to nest inside the wheel arch of their car— this happened to one of my neighbours the day I moved house. The whole street was FULL of bees. The entire car was COVERED. It was insane. A special bee guy was called in. Even after he caught most of the swarm, there were displaced bees flying around for days after. I felt so sorry for them!

Vegans of tumblr, listen up. Harvesting agave in the quantities required so you dont have to eat honey is killing mexican long-nosed bats. They feed off the nectar and pollinate the plants. They need the agave. You want to help the environment? Go back to honey. Your liver and thyroid will thank you, as well. Agave is 90% fructose, which can cause a host of issues. Bye.

[kxsagi]

we love blue lock men with biceps BUT what if their girlfriend ALSO had biceps. yukimiya and karasu would ABSOLUTELY LOVE them omg. and whoever else you want as well. happy request opening day 😚

“𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲”

a/n: THIS REQUEST ATE

GIRLS WITH MUSCLES YES GAWDDD

LIKE I AM SO DOWN BAD (this is what i go to the gym for, to have big biceps and make men cry)

ft. yukimiya kenyu, karasu tabito, mikage reo, isagi yoichi, kaiser michael, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, itoshi rin

yukimiya kenyu

he tries so hard to act chill. like “yeah, her arms are pretty nice i guess,” but then he’s literally taking pictures of your flexed biceps at dinner. 

“sorry darling, you were just holding the fork so beautifully. the forearm tension? poetic.” 

the first time you picked up a suitcase for him, he went dead silent, stared at you like you were the moon, and whispered, “i’ve never loved anything more in my life.” 

refuses to do anything involving heavy lifting now. “no no, i wouldn’t want to rob you of your passion.” 

once accidentally called your biceps “works of god’s architecture” during an interview and now it’s a fan meme. 

“you’re like aphrodite, if she benched 200 pounds. i love you. i’d get your arm veins tattooed on my own arms.” 

karasu tabito

is openly and proudly obsessed. 

sees you doing cable rows at the gym and audibly says “YESSSS MA’AM.” 

posts thirst traps of you. literally just you tying your hair back in a tank top and he’s captioning it, “i would let her snap me in half like a glowstick.” 

asks you to flex and pretends to faint every time. no exceptions. he once did it on the subway. 

literally sulks when you beat him in an arm wrestle. not because he lost, but because he didn’t get to stare at your arms longer. 

“i’m not saying i want you to carry me into battle but– wait no, that’s exactly what i’m saying. pick me up. now.” 

mikage reo

“my girlfriend? oh, she doesn’t need security. she is the security.” 

started lifting just so he could “match you.” he’s been stuck curling 30’s for three months and you’re casually deadlifting his bodyweight. 

brings you to fancy events just to show you off. “hi, this is my girlfriend. she’s hotter than everyone here and can bench-press your dad.” 

melts when you carry him. giggles. literally giggles. 

asked you to crush a watermelon with your thighs as a party trick and then had to excuse himself. 

“you know what’s sexy? dominance. and lat spreads. you have both. please never leave me.” 

isagi yoichi

so supportive. so lovestruck. 

took one look at your arms and whispered, “yo... she could actually beat me up and i’d say thank you.” 

holds your hand at the gym and pretends it’s because he’s romantic but really he’s just trying to feel your forearm muscles. 

gets visibly nervous when you wear sleeveless shirts. like, “please god don’t let me get a nosebleed in public.” 

one time you opened a pickle jar for him and he just stared at you like you were the chosen one. 

“hey um. love. quick question. how do i politely ask you to crush me?” 

kaiser michael

so smug about dating you, but also on his knees. 

walked past a mirror, saw you flexing, and squeaked. actually squeaked. 

you challenged him to a pull-up contest and when you won, he said “do it again. for science.” 

has a pic of your arms as his lock screen and when mess saw it he just nodded solemnly. 

calls you his “golden muscle angel.” you said that was weird and he doubled down. “NO. I STAND BY IT.” 

posts gym couple pics and zooms in on your biceps every time. his captions are like, “me and my goddess 🛐 pls don’t arm wrestle her, she bites.” 

shidou ryusei

this man took one look at your biceps and started foaming at the mouth. 

“bro, what the hell are you made of? steel?? mama mia.” 

asked you to arm wrestle him and then moaned halfway through. you weren’t even trying yet. 

you opened a jar of pickles with one hand and he fell to his knees. 

“hey babe, quick question. how many men have you bench pressed? would you like to make it one more?” 

tries to outlift you, fails, then begs to be your gym pet. 

“you’re so hot when you ignore gym rules. choke me with a resistance band.” 

once barked at you mid-set and then claimed he blacked out from admiration. “i think i saw god. she had traps.” 

itoshi sae

he pretends like he doesn’t care. always the deadpan, too-cool act. 

“you’re not even that strong.” (immediately gets flustered when you flex. quietly takes a sip of his drink to hide it.) 

but one day you picked him up bridal style as a joke and he had to literally leave the room to collect himself. 

when you're in tank tops, he won't make eye contact with you. stares directly at the wall behind you instead. 

has this look on his face like he’s annoyed when you open jars, carry furniture, or deadlift his teammates, but he’s actually fighting for his life. 

“i don’t like when people show off.” you: casually flexing to wipe sweat off your forehead. sae: swallowing hard “… do that again.” 

his toxic trait is thinking he’s hiding how obsessed he is. meanwhile he’s got a private folder of candid pics of your arms labeled “study material.” 

itoshi rin

rin’s the type to scowl at you for being too strong, then quietly take a picture of your arms and stare at it in bed at 3 AM. 

“that’s too much muscle for a girl,” he mutters. you flex at him. now he’s redder than a tomato and walking into traffic. 

you beat him at arm wrestling once and he refused to speak to you for a week. not because he was mad, but because he was embarrassed at how much it turned him on. 

once caught himself zoning out while you were stretching. when you asked what he was looking at, he short-circuited and said “geometry.” 

you wore a sports bra to work out and he almost cried. like actually had to sit down and “breathe through it.” 

“stop carrying me like a princess. it’s emasculating (he says, as he nuzzles into your chest and pretends to be asleep). 

deep down? he wants you to ruin his ego and bench press it. he is just too tsundere to admit it. 

“shut up. flex again. no one’s looking. except me. obviously. gosh, i hate you.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[onlyquinns]

OH MY DAYS I ACTUALLY LOVE YOU

Jack hughes ideas - meeting the family for the first time for Jack's birthday (bc its his birthday soon yk). Like you go the lake house for the weekend and you just feel really awkward but like he ensures u youre fine. Like you go on the boat with everyone and you get inclued and end up having a great time.

you rock on the balls of your feet as you knock on the door, gift bag in hand. you’re sweating under the sweltering summer sun, wearing another layer of clothes over your swim suit. at the time, it felt like a smart idea, but now you definitely regret the decision.

the front door to the house swings open and reveals jack. he smiles at you and pulls you into a hug, hands pressing into your back and holding you like he hasn’t seen you in years.

“happy birthday, jacky,” you whisper into his shoulder, smiling softly into the cotton of his shirt.

jack murmurs his thanks and holds you a little longer. you reciprocate, making sure the glittery gift bag in your hands doesn’t hit him, but then freeze when quinn comes into view. your soft smile turns into a straight line as jack pulls back, confused why you’ve suddenly gone rigid in his arms. he turns around to see what you’re looking at, eyebrows pinched together in confusion, but chuckles at the sight of his brother.

“oh, that’s quinn,” jack says, ushering you in gently. you scoot in slowly, avoiding eye contact as quinn waves. you lift your hand in an awkward attempt at a greeting.

“hey,” quinn says. he smiles a little to ease your nerves. “good to have you with us. jack’s been talking about you a lot.” he chuckles and you know he’s trying to just be friendly, but your nerves won’t settle at all.

“haha… that’s… sounds like jack!” you say, hands clasped together in front of you. you stare at quinn and then glance away, scared to make eye contact with him. “uh, jack, where should i put this?” you raise the gift bag out to him and jack’s mouth forms a gentle ‘o.’

“baby, i told you that you didn’t have to get me anything.” jack takes the bag and shakes it up and down a little as a joke, watching your facial expression for any tells.

your cheeks feel warm, “i wanted to…”

jack stops shaking the bag and pulls you into a gentle hug, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, quinn long gone from the premise. “i’m only joking, babe, i appreciate it.” he gives you another kiss, then pulls away. “i’ll put it here, yeah? we can open gifts after lunch.” he walks you through the house, all the way to the back door by the kitchen, and places the bag on the counter with a handful of other gifts.

you eye them wearily, suddenly thinking about how many people are already in the building. “just a quick question, how many people are here?” you ask, subconsciously picking at your nails.

jack helps you out through the sliding door and into the yard, where luke lounges on a chair and quinn tends to a grill. “just these guys—and mom and dad, obviously.”

at the mention of his parents, ellen and jim sit up from their spots next to luke—they’d been completely hidden by the furniture around them that you hadn’t even noticed. ellen gasps at the sight of you and rushes to greet you, jim taking his time to follow.

“oh, my goodness!” ellen squeals, warm hands coming to lightly cup your arms. “you’re absolutely gorgeous! jack is always telling us about you. it sounds like you’ve made an impact on him—right, jim?”

jim nods slowly, just having walked into the conversation. “yeah, it’s good to meet you.” he sticks out a hand and you slowly take it into your own, squeezing lightly as he takes the initiative to shake them up and down. “woah, now,” he says, words laced with laughter, “don’t squeeze too hard! don’t wanna break any bones!”

you’re mortified and loosen your grip, pulling back your hand and placing it firmly against your thigh. jim chuckles as if you aren’t fully panicking in your head, taking his words too literally. you’re about to excuse yourself when jack presses a firm hand to your lower back, grounding you.

“good joke, dad,” jack says, head tilted and a crooked grin on his lips. “why don’t we get her settled, and we can talk after we eat. looks like quinn’s about done.”

jim and ellen nod and walk off, joining their oldest at the grill. their words and laughter fill the air but you barely pay attention, too focused on standing like a normal person.

“you’re doing great,” jack says suddenly, pulling your mind away from what foot goes where. “i know you’re nervous, but you’re doing really good.”

you smile up at him weakly, “thanks. i’m trying.”

jack chuckles, “i know.”

eventually after dinner, you find yourself on the hughes family boat. it was jack’s idea to go out on the lake, just to show you the view and what the boys do for fun. you didn’t know it, but fun meant wakeboarding.

you watch as jack takes his turn, smooth and confident in his abilities. you’re amazed at how he makes it look easy, eyes wide as he goes through the boat’s choppy wake with ease. ellen claps next to you, grinning wide and then laughing when jack finally hits a rough patch and falls in.

“wow, that might’ve been the longest ride of the night!” she says once he surfaces, eyes crinkling with how wide her smile is.

jack laughs and pulls himself out of the water, taking a towel from luke’s outstretched hand. he shakes his wet hair out like a dog and sprays you with cold water, smiling as you squeal and giggle for—what feels like—the first time of the night.

“hey, why don’t you go next?” he suggests, stripping the damp life vest off to hand to you.

you shake your head, “no! no, i’ll embarrass myself.” you laugh awkwardly.

everyone around you suddenly rallies together, phrases like “oh, cmon!” and “you’ll do great!” coming from all angles.

you get up reluctantly, knees shaky as you take the life jacket. jack takes the time to clip it on you, adjusting it so it fits you perfectly. jack swaps spots with quinn once you’re in the water and situated for your turn, starting the boat slowly to help you adjust.

you wobble on the board, eyes glued to the gentle waves that you glide through. your tongue peeks out just a little as you concentrate, thoughts of being judged gone as you make sure you don’t suddenly capsize.

“good to go faster?” jack calls behind him, torso twisted to peer back at you and his arm slung over the back of his seat.

you nod, “yeah!” you adjust your feet and brace your knees as the boat picks up. a light casts over you and you’re acutely aware of someone recording a video of you but you don’t care, fully invested in your wakeboarding attempt.

ellen whoops as you hit a particularly large wave and land it, clapping and cheering your name as you move left and right. quinn and luke chuckle, clapping for you as well, and jim sits back with a smile. your nerves are long gone and your body feels lighter, lost in the sensation of the dip and rise of the board under your bare feet.

when you finally fall into the water, freezing cold waves hitting your body and face, you laugh. you fling your wet hair behind you and swim to the boat. quinn sticks out a hand for you as jack finally brings the boat to a stop, pulling you back aboard with ease. you shiver in the evening breeze but you still smile.

“that was awesome!” jack praises, helping you with the life vest and your wet hair. he wraps a thick towel around your body and holds you to his chest, rocking back and forth. “you did so good!”

ellen hums and you hear a camera click, but you pay no attention to it.

“i definitely lasted longer than you did,” you tease, pulling away and taking an outstretched beer from luke.

jim snorts, “you certainly did,” he agrees, scooting over so you can sit next to him. he holds out his beer to you and you clink your can to his, smiling at the gesture.

you take a huge gulp, still smiling against the rim of the can. despite how you’d felt in the beginning, you’re pleased with yourself. jack sits down next to you, luke having taken over the boat for quinn’s turn.

“with the way you wakeboard,” he starts, “you’re definitely always invited to the lake.”

you giggle and knock your head against his shoulder, passing your cold beer to him. he takes it me holds it in his lap, smiling at the bright look in your eye.

ellen giggles, “she’s a hughes—she’s always invited no matter what.”

[heartsforkatsuki]

it’ll be okay. ｡°✩ k.bakugo

pov ; your ex boyfriend gets you out of a depressive episode

pairings ; ex bf!katsuki bakugo x reader

tags ; angst, hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, happy ending.

your alarm went off, again. you keep forgetting to turn it off, knowing full well you’re not getting out of bed any time soon.

you’re huddled up under atleast 3 layers of thick blankets, and wearing pajamas from who knows how long ago, but no underwear. you ran out of clean pairs a long time ago, and haven’t bothered to do laundry since. you haven’t been sleeping this whole time, just laying. anything felt better than getting up and facing the world right now. it’s so quiet you can’t even hear your own thoughts, just the sheets rustling when you slowly shift your laying positon. nothing really mattered at this point.

well, you don’t atleast. you still care about izuku, and ochaco, and eijiro. they matter to you, your closest friends. he matters too though, your heart whispers but you push it back down. everyone matters, not you though. you’re just there, and nothing would change if you ever weren’t.

that settles in your head for a couple minutes, lingering as you stare at your nightstand.

this is nice.

however, your nice moment is ruined when you’re blinded by the light coming through your bedroom door, so you squeeze your eyes shut and cover your face with blankets. it hurts your head so bad you can’t even process unless it’s slowly closed, and you feel a presence over you.

“izuku, i said i’m okay, go.” you can’t even recognize your own voice anymore, it’s so bitter and mean, and cracked at the edges. you dont mean to snap at him, but you can’t help it.

“fuck you, im not deku. don’t talk to me like that.”

that voice. your eyes bust wide open under the covers, and your heart drops, but your body doesn’t tense. no, it’s too tired to.

“leave, bakugo.” your voice is more hushed now, hurt. “im fine, i didnt ask for you to come.”

“you didnt have to ask me, idiot. deku said he hasn’t seen you in four days. he doesn’t think you’ve been eating, so i came anyways.” he’s quieter too, now. there’s no disgust, or a condescending tone like everyone else has been talking to you lately. bakugo isn’t like that.

“fuck izuku..” you groan, turning your head into your pillow, still hidden by covers. “you’re my ex, bakugo, not my caretaker. please leave, im fine.”

“we agreed to stay friends, so i’m here as one.”

yep. thats true. the breakup was mutual, you were in school, he was climbing up the hero ranks. both of you were too busy to keep it up.

fuck izuku

“what do you want”

“to check on you. make sure youre okay.”

you finally peel the covers off your head, cracking your eyes open slightly, though your vision is blurry. he looks so .. unbothered. brows furrowed, like always. his usual black tee, grey sweats, and messy blond hair. if you were capable, you’re sure you would have thrown up at the familiarity of his presence.

“yeah? well, im fine.”

“you’re an awful liar, [name].”

“then leave.” you snap, turning back under your covers.

“i think imma do what i want, [name]” he snaps back, snatching all the blankets off in one layer and throwing you over his shoulder.

“katsuki!! put me down, now!!”

your struggle literally only makes him chuckle as he turns the living room light on.

that damn light makes your headache resurface, and you groan as you cover your eyes by burying your face into his neck.

oof!

you’re dropped onto the couch, and katsuki sits on the coffee table, facing you.

you curl your legs, laying sideways, not meeting his eyes.

“have you been missing therapy?” your eyes shoot to his.

he always knew you went to therapy, but you never talked about it.

you shake your head.

“how about class? or work?”

you shake your head, again.

“you haven’t done any school work at all?”

your voice quiets again, “i dropped out.”

and of course, his reaction was inevitable.

“dropped OUT?!” he bursts, standing from the table, looming over you as you close your eyes, your lower lip trembling.

“you’ve been obsessed with school for.. for forever, [name]! that was your dream! to graduate, to be.. accomplished! why the fuck would you drop out?!”

“i just did, okay?! i was.. i was tired!” your voice only grows softer, and you can’t stop the tears that follow your words. “don’t scream, please.”

“shit, [name]…” he walks around the table, looking up at the ceiling as he runs his hand over his mouth. “fuck.”

you open your tear-blurred eyes to see him back on the coffee table, still staring up as you wipe your face.

“okay, ill go easy on you.” he lays a hand over yours, pressing ever so lightly. “have you eaten?”

“no” you meet his gaze.

“yesterday?”

“…no.”

“okay, let’s get you fed and then cleaned up. you look and smell rancid.” he stands, patting his hands on his thighs.

“katsuki..”

“hush. im doing this for you, so hush.”

you dont need this. but maybe its not so bad.

“come on, cheer me on while i cook.” he reaches out a hand, pulling you to stand for the first time in god knows how long. you almost fall right back onto the floor, but he stabilizes you with his hand. “jeez..”

he guides you into the kitchen, seating you onto a stool facing the stove on the other side of the kitchen island. he grabs a blanket from the basket behind the table chairs, wrapping it around your body.

not even a minute later he was whipping around your kitchen, grabbing tupperware and materials you forgot you owned.

while you were zoned out staring at the stove, he sets a glass of water infront of you, and then you notice the open, empty fridge.

“you don’t have shit to eat in here, [name].”

then you looked over to the countertop next to the stove. a ramen packet, and butter.

when was the last time you went grocery shopping?

no point, you couldn’t cook and he wasn’t here to help you with it. takeout it was.

“ill just go rob deku, be right back. dont move.” he points at you.

a couple minutes later, the door opens again, and you see flashes on blond and green hair, breezing into your kitchen, arms filled with food. bakugo walks past you and gets to work, but izuku stands staring, like if he was surprised to see you in your own apartment.

“[name]. how are you?” it sounded a little, panicked. but you knew he meant well.

“awful.” his eyes widen and he blinks. “you knew that, though.”

“ah.. okay..” he shifts his weight, “well, ill leave you to it!”

“izuku” you gesture for him to move close, and he complies. you wrap your arms around him, “thank you.”

“yeah, anytime [name]. i love you.”

“however, next time you call any of my exes again, consider yourself a dead man.”

“bu-” he knew it was pointless to argue. “okay, wont happen again..”

“thanks for the food.”

“anytime.” he leaves and shuts the door.

you’re not who you were even half a year ago, and definitely not the same person he fell for back at ua. you used to be sharp, full of energy, sometimes sarcastic or even confrontational. in college, when he finally asked you out, you were still full of life—maybe a bit more cynical, but still passionate and curious. when did that change? when did you become so withdrawn, quiet, and sad? if he’d just looked a little closer, made more of an effort, could he have seen the signs earlier? if he’d stayed in touch as a friend after things ended, would he have still needed deku to point out that you were struggling?

4 minutes later, katsuki sets a bowl infront of you and hands you chopsticks.

“nothing fancy, just dumplings and noodles. eat, please.”

he eats his own bowl aswell, you sit in silence. then, the conversation shifts and he ends up telling you how he started taking night shifts, hence why he’s here and not working, but that he also called a day off to check on you.

“i was worried for you.”

“you dont get worried, katsuki.”

"tch. you idiot. i’m constantly worried, especially when it comes to you. when deku told me he hadn’t seen you and that you weren’t eating, i panicked," he admits, his usual confidence slipping. "i was scared something terrible had happened... that i might walk in and—" he cuts himself off, unable to say it. instead, he wipes at his eyes with both hands and curses under his breath. "i wouldn’t have been able to deal with that," he says, your name falling from his lips, rough and full of emotion.

you don’t know how to respond, so you don’t.

he stands to your side, staring down at you, then suddenly pulls you into his chest. you stumble into him with a quiet “oof” as his arms wrap tightly around you. it’s comforting, familiar—so natural that you sink into it without thinking, hands clutching at his shirt as your body goes slack. he holds you steady, resting his chin on top of your head. the hug is a bit intense, a bit possessive, but after feeling so empty for so long, it’s a relief. your chest starts to ease, and before you even realize it, you’re crying—not out of pain, but just to let it all out. to finally feel something.

“it’s gonna be okay. i got you.”

a couple minutes later, he convinces you to get cleaned up, to which you tell him you want a bath.

in the bathroom, he gently sits you on the closed toilet lid and turns on the water. he even digs through the cabinet to find your favorite hibiscus bath salts, adding a generous scoop to the tub. then he starts undressing down to just his boxers, and you quickly look away, suddenly very focused on the dirt on the floor tiles.

"lift your arms," he says, snapping you out of your thoughts. you lift your arms and he pulls off your sweatshirt and t-shirt in one smooth motion, tossing them into the already full laundry basket. you don’t bother trying to cover yourself—it’s not like he hasn’t seen it all before. his gaze lingers for a second before he kneels to pull off one of your fuzzy socks.

he can’t help noticing how much you’ve changed beneath your clothes. you look softer now, maybe haven’t worked out since he left, and there’s a tired slump to your shoulders he doesn’t remember. but to him, you’re still beautiful—every familiar curve still there. it takes effort not to grab your waist the way he used to. he peels off your other sock, tosses them both toward the laundry with perfect aim, then helps you stand. the sweatpants are the last thing to go, sliding easily down over your hips.

you feel fully immersed in the quiet comfort of it all as he lathers up a washcloth and gently moves it across your skin in slow, soothing circles. you let him guide the moment, tilting your head as he rinses your hair and works shampoo and conditioner through it with careful fingers. you let out a soft laugh when he cleans between your toes, and finally, when he decides you’re all rinsed and done, you lean back against him, fully at ease.

"why’d you break up with me?" his voice is quiet, spoken into the hollow of your shoulder.

"we both chose to," you answer without thinking, the same rehearsed line you’ve repeated to friends and family to keep their concern at bay. mutual, mutual, mutual—it’s what you’ve clung to.

"yeah, but you’re the one who brought it up."

you’re relieved he can’t see your face right now. it gives you a small shred of composure. you trail your fingers through the water, watching the ripples spread as you try to find the right words.

"we were both so busy. and i thought— i didn’t want you to give up anything for me. your career means so much to you, and i couldn’t ask you to pull back, not even a little." he inhales sharply like he’s about to speak, but you keep going. "and i guess i started falling back into that mindset i had in high school. i never told you—didn’t tell anyone back then—but i used to get stuck in these spirals for days. i’d get so focused on one thing that i stopped taking care of myself. and sometimes... that thing was dying. i thought about it so much, it felt like i already had."

you told him about an incident that happened in your senior year, where you went into a spiral and almost succeeded in taking your life.

"anyway," you press on, like you haven’t just shattered something inside of him, "i could feel myself slipping back into that place, and i was too ashamed to go back to therapy, like i’d failed. i didn’t want to put that on you, didn’t want to drag you into my mess, and honestly, it just felt easier to run from it all.”

he falls silent for a beat.

“does anyone else know?”

“just izuku. he’d bring me food and notes.”

“you cou- no, should’ve told me.”

"no, i couldn’t have."

he lets out a frustrated breath. "yes, you could’ve—"

"no, you don’t understand. i couldn’t even face it myself for years. yaomomo only knew because aizawa told her—she was my closest friend and top of the class. i didn’t want anyone else to find out," you lower your voice to a whisper. "it wasn’t about you, katsuki."

he presses his forehead against your shoulder, growling in frustration before trying a different angle. "then what about when we were together? isn’t that what being in a relationship is for, to rely on each other?"

"for me, it was about loving you. not about making you carry my weight."

loving—you still love him, but it would feel too harsh to say it now.

"idiot. i loved you, too. i didn’t want you to go through this alone. you never let me handle anything by myself. remember the workouts for moral support? when you’d hold my hand and stay with me in the hospital after the war? you dumbass, why didn’t you think i’d do the same for you?"

you feel the heat of his tears on your collarbone, trailing down your chest. it startles you; bakugou hardly ever cries. carefully, you turn in his arms to face him, gently placing your hands on his face. he’s really crying—tears streaking down his cheeks, dripping off his chin. he still has that scowl, but you softly smooth the furrow between his brows until it relaxes.

"i’m sorry," you whisper, your voice full of meaning, putting everything you feel, "i’m still in love with you," into those words. you kiss his forehead lightly, then wipe his cheeks dry with your thumbs.

he lets out a long, heavy sigh, his tone more serious than you’ve ever heard, his hands resting on your hips as he gently rubs circles with his thumbs. "will you let me now? now that i know, will you let me help and care for you? even if it’s just as a friend?”

your heart skips a beat.

this is why you fell in love with him. after everything, he still stays. nothing can scare the way this man loves you.

like instinct, you lower your head and kiss him, pouring your soul into it.

you pull back, stabling yourself with your hands on his shoulders.

“im so-”

“stop apologizing.” he rests his forehead on yours.

“move in with me.”

“okay.”

and maybe he’s right, it’ll all be okay.

LMFAO i hurt a lot of people with the last angst fic so here’s a happier ending … LMAO. @jealousmartini @sofiathehobo @wildberry-101 @intimidaid

[meowonaise]

hey guys have you heard of this new thing called "nekomura iroha on synthesizer v 2 ai"? well i sure havent.

[miaoua3]

Is this where we request? I’m still new to this app lol. Pero may I request a smut Minghao? The smuttier the better. Surprise me with any story line ^_^ I trust your writing hehe

yes this is where you request it😭 and its all good, happy to have received your request! and ofc you can, hope you like this!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Keep Quiet.

•Pairing: bf! minghao x f!reader

•Genre: shameless smut (MDNI), fingering, voyeurism, unprotected sex, dirty talking, angry sex, minimal foreplay, slight degradation, bathroom sex, quick fuck, spit…play? idk i def mentioned the word waaay too often in such a short story lmao, slight angst (well, maybe even more than slight angst)

•Description: one minor fight with your boyfriend has you acting like he doesn’t exist, ignoring him to your best efforts, despite you two being out in public with your friends. minghao knows a great way to make you pay attention to him again.

•Notes: writing this before i even wrote the story and i can already tell it’s gonna be a banger lmao (post writing update: i made it angsty🧍‍♀️ffs i hate whenever im on my period and get all emotional)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

you nod your head in fake cheerfulness to whatever seungkwan was saying to you, trying your hardest not to let it show that your boyfriend has his hand in your panties and his fingers almost inside your pussy right underneath the table.

it was so stupid, the whole thing-the fight, the words you both said in the heat of anger, the purposeful ignoring on your behalf, and finally the fingering under the table while all of your members are sat there on his behalf.

now that you try to think about it, the details about the whole thing seem to be gone from your head. but that just might be because minghao literally has his fingers inside you.

thankfully, everyone redirects their conversations, leaving you and hao alone for a minute. immediately grabbing his hand, you grit through your teeth in warning.

“take. your hand. out. of my underwear. now.”

minghao just leans in closer to you before he hotly whispers right into your ear “maybe if you weren’t such a little brat earlier, i wouldn’t have to have my hand inside your needy cunt to get your attention.”

you finally look him directly in the eyes for the first time since this morning, eyes burning with fire. if the fire is from anger or from neediness? who knows.

hao smirks at you, but not the kind that you find hot and sexy-the kind that is cocky, the kind that is indirectly telling you “i won”, the kind that is so condescending and outright insulting to your ego.

his fingers spread your folds open, the contact with the cold air making shivers appear all over your skin. his middle finger then gently runs up and down your entrance, your precum already gathering on the tip of his finger simply with that one move. he then uses the same finger to ever so lightly flick your clit, and it feels so good that you have to bite your lip to keep yourself quiet.

hao’s voice distracts you for a moment, his warm breath hitting the shell of your ear as he hotly whispers “if you hate it so much, and if you want me to stop, why are you so wet? hm? why is your slutty little pussy so wet from one little touch? don’t tell me-“ he stops in the name of mockingly chuckling before he continues, “don’t tell me you are into this? getting discovered by them, letting them see just what a slut you are-letting me finger you under the table. poor seungkwan-he probably didn’t even realise that you didn’t pay attention to anything he said, too distracted by being a little whore for my fingers.”

nervously looking around the table, you confirm that no one is paying attention to you two. still, the whole thing makes you feel nervous. as hot as this feels somewhere in the back of your fucked up mind, the idea of you two getting discovered makes you panic and it cuts your enjoyment in half.

almost like he can sense that he’s slowly losing you to your anxieties, he orders you in his deep voice.

“bathroom. now. wait for me there.”

you didn’t have to be told twice.

after a few minutes of nervously walking around the bathroom, you finally hear the door open and close quickly, hao’s expert fingers quickly locking the door, all while his eyes are solely focused on you.

in two big strides, you two meet each other half way, immediately kissing each other messily. you feel his saliva get all over your lips and chin, hands groping your body all over-from squeezing your neck, to squeezing and spanking your ass so hard under the skirt of your dress, you almost end up screaming.

before you know it, he’s quickly walking you towards the sink, hands quickly turning you around before bending you over the cold marble. you gasp at how quickly it all happens, hands slamming against the mirror.

you stare at the reflection, your fucked out face staring right back at you, lips still wet from his kisses, eyes hazy. behind you, you see minghao staring right back at you, hands working on quickly unzipping his pants.

as he’s taking his cock out of his pants, he angrily asks “you don’t want to pay attention to me?” before he’s quickly slamming inside your pussy, the quick movement making your walls burn at the sudden stretch. you moan through a gasp, watching as he bends over as well, his chest coming in contact with your back as he wraps a skill-full hand around your neck.

staring at your eyes through the mirror, he orders you “then don’t. only look at yourself.” before he starts basically hammering his hips into your own.

the pace he sets from the start has you seeing stars, you own eyes focusing on your reflexion in the mirror per his order.

the sight has you blushing-eyes teary, mouth open as moans freely spill out of them, saliva almost dripping out as you don’t have the strength to close them so you can swallow it down.

his hand cutting out basically all the air to your lungs, veins popping out due to the force he has to use.

you want to look at him, you want to look at him so badly, but you know that if you do, that the damage will be fatal for your pussy you. so, you keep on watching yourself, the way your whole body moves from the sheer force of his moves.

his dick is merciless-your walls still trying to get used to his girth while he’s fucking you with quick snaps of hips. the way his thickness is spreading you, better yet-splitting you open is messing with your head. you already know that you will walk funny later, but for now you settle on just letting you two get all the emotions out of your system.

quicker than you’d expect it, hao drops his other hand between your legs to quickly rub your clit. normally, you would be thrilled at this part, but something about how quickly he started doing it, not even 5 minutes of you two fucking, it makes you feel…weird. almost like he’s just trying to make you cum for the sake of you just cumming, not because he actually wants you to feel good and because he cares about your own enjoyment.

you distinctly hear his voice talk hotly in your ear, but you can register what exactly. before you know it, you feel your pussy squeeze around his cock, milking his own orgasm out of him pretty quickly.

the whole thing lasted all but a few minutes, and it feels almost…anticlimactic.

you two stay in your positions for a few seconds, breathing heavily due to the nature of your activities.

but then, before you can even react, you feel his body retreat from your own, quickly dressing himself up and tidying up his appearance.

but most importantly, he didn’t do it.

he didn’t kiss you-your lips or cheek, whatever is closer to him, and he didn’t say it. didn’t say ‘i love you’, like he always did.

something in your stomach drops, shame quickly coming to haunt you.

you immediately get up to your height and start getting dressed, both of you staying silent as you do so.

hao is thinking his words over, lips being bitten as he’s contemplating on how to resolve this problem.

to be honest, he hated this. this whole thing. he didn’t recognise his own actions, the way he acted so heartless towards you…it made him feel sick.

this wasn’t right.

no matter how high your emotions are, he should never stoop so low as to fuck simply out of anger.

he wasn’t supposed to make you feel or think like he hates you through his actions. he was supposed to make you feel loved, and appreciated. at best, he should’ve talked to you about the problem before he did anything of the sexual nature. but he was so desperate to make you look at him, to have you finally pay attention to him, that he didn’t know what to do other than to do what he did.

just as he was about to apologise to you and ask if you wanted to talk this whole situation out, a single sniffle broke out in the otherwise quiet bathroom.

hao’s head immediately snapped to you, panic hitting him like a wave during a storm. in two quick strides, he comes to stand before you only to see you looking down at the floor with tears streaming down your face as your shaky hands tried straightening the wrinkles out.

his hands immediately come to gently hold your cheeks as he asks “love what’s wrong? fuck, i ruined it all, didn’t i? i am so sorry baby, i don’t what came over me, i just thought-“

but before he can continue, you let yourself just fall into his arms, hands grabbing the back of his shirt as you hug him to yourself.

he immediately hugs you right back as he listens to your small sobs escape you, lips kissing the top of your head as countless “i’m sorry’s” slip out of his mouth.

ever so quietly, he hears you say “y-you didn’t say it.”

hao looks puzzled straight ahead of him, softly asking you “said what baby?”

through a broken inhale, you add “you didn’t sa-say ‘i love you’.”

his heart immediately drops from his chest ti the floor, realising that he forgot to say it due to the inner turmoil going on in his mind.

immediately pushing you back a bit, he sincerely yet heartbrokenly says “of course i love you, my love. how could i not? you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. i live to feel your love and to make you feel loved. and i’m so sorry if i ever made you feel otherwise, love.” he pauses for a second as he wipes your tears away, his own having to be blinked away as he looks at your heartbroken expression. “of course i love you. you are my first, greatest and last love. you are the only one for me.”

emotionally due to his words, you immediately prop yourself on tippy toes in the name of kissing him passionately yet slowly.

with no hesitation, minghao kisses you right back.

and with the kiss, you finally get the confirmation.

confirmation that even when you two are facing the troubles, it will always be you and him against the world.

confirmation that no one in this world could love you like he does.

[antianakin]

A number of people have responded to this post with something similar to this and I think this post is getting misunderstood as me arguing that I think Cassian should know about all of the things Bail has done, and it's not. That's not what I'm saying.

I'm bringing up all of these things Bail has done because it felt to me less like this is a moment where we're supposed to just see Cassian as wrong or biased, and more of a moment where the narrative VERY GENUINELY wants you to agree with Cassian that the only reason any of them are even here right now as a rebellion is because of Luthen.

For one, Cassian's sole reasoning behind why he believes the information is because "Luthen died for it" and that faith (as well as Kleya's) is ultimately what helps sway Vel into convincing Mon Mothma to believe it and stand up to Bail about it. It's BAIL who has to sit there being wrong and just be the "man Cassian doesn't like."

For two, this entire arc really focuses in on Luthen's legacy and influence, so it doesn't make a lot of sense for the ultimate message at the end to be that Cassian's just biased and wrong about Luthen's impact on the rebellion.

For three, Gilroy apparently has said in an interview that he sees Luthen and Mon Mothma as the true founders of the rebellion in his version of the story.

For four, they decided to have Bail's team be compromised in the episode with Mon's big speech so that Luthen can step in with his better knowledge and agents to ACTUALLY save her but then the "Gold Squadron" (who are also part of Bail's group) insist that they have to step in and deliver Mon Mothma to Yavin, leaving Luthen and Cassian's work essentially unrecognized. While this fits in quite nicely with the themes of Rogue One and the ways that so many people often end up unremembered by history no matter how important they are, it is also worth bringing up in this case because it's another instance of "Bail's way fails, and Luthen's succeeds because he's just better at it."

For five, Cassian wouldn't know about all of the little things Bail has done, but Rebels has made it fairly clear that Bail DOES take part in some of the recruitment work and meetings within his own rebel cells. It seems INCREDIBLY unlikely that Cassian is unaware of just how long Bail has been doing this and how much of what's here is a direct result of Bail's work for the last 19 years bringing it all together. He doesn't have the DETAILS, sure, but he's been in Bail's rebellion for two years now, you cannot convince me that he doesn't know ANYTHING about Bail's involvement in it and the fact that he literally founded it.

I would mind this a lot less if it felt like we as the audience were supposed to understand that Cassian is just being emotional and kind-of biased because a mentor of his just died, but that doesn't feel like the way it was being presented to us. You CAN interpret it that way, but that doesn't necessarily mean that's the way it was intended to be understood.

So the reason it felt important to me to bring up the fact that Bail has absolutely been established as being there from DAY FUCKING ONE with the things he did to help the Jedi and what he did for Leia isn't to say that Cassian should KNOW these things, but to point out that the narrative in Andor seems to be acting like those things don't count or is just ignoring them to favor Luthen and Mon because Gilroy prefers them. But they DID happen and they DO count and Bail Organa is just as much if not more responsible for that rebellion's existence than Luthen Rael. I LIKE Luthen, I think he's a fascinating and complex character, and I am perfectly happy to give him his roses for what he HAS done, but what I won't do is devalue or dismiss Bail Organa's contributions to lift up Luthen as the true founder of the rebellion.

It seems a little hilarious to me that they have Cassian making the argument that the only reason any of them are here, the only reason the REBELLION exists at all, is because of Luthen... and he's saying it to BAIL FUCKING ORGANA.

I'm sorry, but while I am happy to accept that Luthen did do a LOT of things to keep the rebellion alive and likely recruited quite a few of the people on Yavin to this cause himself and trained them up, there are just as many if not more who are there explicitly because of BAIL ORGANA.

Bail Organa who began fighting the Empire the moment he showed up at the Jedi Temple the night of Order 66 and turned around to save any Jedi he could and then became a GETAWAY DRIVER as Yoda went to assassinate the Emperor and then proceeded to agree to take in Anakin Skywalker's child in order to hide her from the Empire.

Bail Organa who has literally been shown helping recruit the entire Ghost Crew and likely brought on the entire Phoenix Squadon and theoretically the entire Gold Squadron. Bail Organa who was the one who helped Riyo Chuchi try to fight for clone rights. Bail Organa who saw Ahsoka Tano on Naboo for Padme's funeral and immediately turns around to offer her a chance to join the rebellion which she does eventually choose to take. Bail Organa who eventually does allow his own DAUGHTER to join the rebellion and run missions when she's old enough.

You cannot convince me that somehow Luthen Rael is MORE responsible for the creation of the rebellion and its existence and people's involvement in it than Bail Organa. You can't.

[ibrithir-was-here]

While You Were Sleeping (Beauty)

Yes, I was the one who cursed Princess Rosamund to die.

And yes, it was because they didn't send me an invitation to her christening.

And because there was no gold plate for me when I showed up anyway.

And also because I was seven, and a spoiled brat, and I expected to be treated with the dignity my title as the Elder Fairy deserved, despite having held it for only a week.

Granny was the Elder Fairy before me, and she'd been the Elder Fairy for as long as anyone could remember. Longer even than the current Oak Fairy had been in her title, and she was at least as old as the kingdom. 

I don't know if she was my real Granny. She never talked about who my parents were, though I knew she'd had a daughter at one point. A prince had carried her off long ago, and Granny rarely ever spoke of her, though sometimes I'd catch her crying over an old cracked hairbrush. 

I'd lived my whole life in Granny's tower, just her and me. Oh there'd been various cats of all shapes,sizes, and temperaments, assorted birds, some enchanted, some not. Occasionally a toad or two. But Granny overall kept to herself, in the old stone tower with no door nor ladder, in the deepest part of the Deep Dark Woods.

I admit, this choice of location likely made it extremely difficult for any messenger carrying said invitation to ever reach her. 

But then again, if the wandering prince had managed to find his way there and make it back out while literally blind, then a professionally trained courier certainly could at least have tried. 

As it was, she died the week before the Christening even happened. 

So you can imagine,  I wasn't in the best state of mind to begin with when I finally got to the party.

Which isn't really an excuse for wishing death upon a baby, especially one who hadn't even so much as spit up on me. She didn't even cry, with all that hustle and bustle and noise and nerve going on. 

I would have cried. I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry about the noise, and having to fly so far, and how there wasn't even a place for me when I did get there, and how all the other fairies from Yew to Apple kept raising their eyebrows and whispering over me, and how much I missed missed missed my Granny, who was never coming back because she was literally dust now.

One minute, she'd been spinning at her spinning wheel, she'd pricked her finger, said “oh”---and the next she was gone. No rhyme or reason to it. She just finally got so Old that even Magic couldn't keep the candle of her life lit anymore.

She went the way of all fairies. There one moment, and in a blink of an eye, gone. Nothing but dust in the wind. Drifting out open window, out over the tops of the trees. Over the hills and far far away.

Leaving me the new Elder Tree Fairy--and  all alone. 

But I couldn't cry,  I couldn't. Because I was the Elder Fairy now, and I was supposed to give a Gift to the newborn baby princess.

The princess who was cooing so sweetly in her little bassinet. All golden and warm and loved.

I don't think I ever felt real Hate until that moment. Looking down at a baby, knowing she was alive and loved and so happy, while my Granny was dead and gone I was so miserable. 

So. I cursed her.

I didn't really mean it mean it, of course. I didn't want her to actually die. I just said it in the heat of a moment. I only meant it a little. 

But of course, Meaning anything in any amount when you're a Fairy still counts.

That's Magic.

I avoided being thrown into a dungeon or worse purely due to my age, and the quick thinking of the Yew fairy, who managed to twist my ill-wish into something less lethal, though certainly more complicated.

Needless to say, the party was ruined.

The Princess and I were both whisked away. She went to some safe location far away from spinning wheels--though after the king’s decree that was really anywhere within a five mile radius of the kingdom-- and I was taken to someplace far away from her.

From then on I was kept under close watch by all the Fairies of the Circle, to ensure that nothing like this ever happened again. The  Alder Fairy was to take over my duties until it was determined I could actually handle them. 

They were all very sorry about Granny of course, and understood I was overwhelmed when I'd done what I did, but they couldn't have the Thirteenth Fairy of the Sacred Circle going around accidentally cursing the heirs of the royal families. 

They needn't have worried. After I came to myself and realized the full magnitude of what I'd almost done, I made a vow to myself to never use my Magic ever ever ever again. 

And I managed to keep that vow too. For sixteen years afterwards I managed to keep it. Not an easy thing to do when surrounded by other fairies and while technically being part of the magical counsel dedicated to watching over the kingdoms.

But I did it. I kept my head down,and rolled up my sleeves. I did whatever I could to help people of the town I'd been paroled to without the use of Magic. 

Cooking, mending, midwifing, herb craft. Anything and everything in daily life that didn't involve aiding third sons on impossible quests or giving deserving merchants' daughters fabulous gowns. I even got to where I would shod horse shoes, despite the sting of the iron.

I was determined to keep to my vow. Determined to show I was Good.

And I tried not to flinch too much whenever the story of the poor princess who was cursed by The Wicked Fairy came up.

I didn't have friends, I kept to myself outside of my works of penance. Better that way, safer. I couldn't hurt anyone if I didn't get close enough to care enough to Mean anything. 

I was lonely yes.

But I was also almost happy.

As happy as I had any right to be.

And then, wherever she was hidden away, the princess somehow got her hands--or rather finger--on a spinning wheel.

I felt it in my bones the moment the Curse took.

I ended up hunched over right  in the high street, and was sick all over my shoes. 

Even as far away as I was, I could feel the rush of my ill-wish as it stung, caught hold, and began to tangle itself all about the Princess and everyone near her. 

And me.

Oh I didn't fall asleep for the next one hundred years.

But I did start to dream.

It took a few years, time enough for me to think that, despite the fact the kingdom was now trying to find it's footing under a regency council, perhaps all would go as the Yew fairy had said, and I could again sink back into my day to day life knowing all would be well.

But one night, the night that marked 20 years since the day of the Worst Thing I Ever Did, I dreamed of her. 

I started out wandering about the courtyard. It was strewn with bodies, like there'd been a huge battle, only none of them were bleeding out, just softly breathing, softer than the hum of a dragonfly.  Then I was wandering into a hallway, past more sleepers, up a set of stairs hidden behind a rather terrible tapestry, and around and around the curves of a lofty tower. 

And there, at the very top, sitting on a bed, looking out the window, long golden hair waving in a wind that stirred nothing else, was Princess Rosamund.

“Oh!” She cried, starting up from her seat and gazing at me with eyes as blue as a robin's egg.  “You-you're awake!”

“Er--” I began, utterly baffled at the proper thing to say to someone who's life you've basically ruined. Perhaps “Please please please forgive me I know I don't deserve it--”

But I didn't have the chance to get as far as the first ‘Please’ before suddenly her arms were around me and my arms were full of her.

I thought for a moment she was attempting to strangle me, and had truthfully very little intention of stopping her, I felt she was rather owed the attempt. But this presumption of attempted revenge was shattered by her next words:

“Oh I am so so glad not to be alone anymore! Its been horrid being the only one awake. I mean, I know I'm asleep out there but I didn't think I'd be alone in the dream and--oh it's good to have someone to talk to!  Did the Yew fairy send you to me? I've been praying and praying to have someone here with me. What's your name?”

I blinked. Stared at the beaming woman who still had her arms wrapped up around my neck in an embrace, as if I were a trusted friend, as if I were a savior there to sweep her away from her loneliness and isolation.

And not the very cause of it all. 

She looked at me as if I were Good. 

I blinked again. Swallowed. 

“My name…” I started, stopped. She would not know my name from her past. Fairies names are tightly guarded, even among themselves. Her father’s court only knew me as The Elder Fairy. The stories as The Wicked Fairy. 

To know a fairy's name was to have power over them.

Well, if anyone was owed that, it was Princess Rosamund.

“My name is Carabosse”, I said, telling her one of my deepest truths.

And then, looking at her looking at me, those robin egg eyes so bright and hopeful and happy, happy to see me-- I told her one of my greatest lies.

“And…yes, the Yew Fairy sent me to you, to keep you company in these long years, until your True Love comes to wake you”

And that was were all the trouble started

[doodler16]

I’ve got a question. Where did Helluva Boss even come from? I know Hazbin Hotel has been a passion project since, I don’t know, probably 2009, and HB just seems like it came out of the blue. I couldn’t even spot any “prototype” versions of the characters from her older art, aside from the Blitzo lookalike from Hazbin’s pilot. It feels like she adapted somebody’s else project.

And why the HELL did VivziePop felt the need to juggle two hell-themed cartoons at the same time? Most indie animators would’ve been happy with only one. Talk about an ego boost.

Vivziepop got attached to said background characters in Hazbin Hotel (Blitzø and Moxxie) and wanted to give them their own separate project. That’s literally it.

Blitzø and Moxxie’s old designs (Hazbin Hotel pilot era):

Vivziepop’s attachment to said characters:

Vivziepop’s Patreon announcement and updates:

(There’s obviously more things she said in this announcement but right now we are focusing on Helluva Boss and its origins).

Vivziepop’s 2019 Bible Pitch for Helluva Boss:

On her Patreon post, Vivziepop said this: “I want to keep indie and original content alive online and on my channel so I want to turn my channel into a hub for fresh new cartoons of all kinds and try to get more of my ideas out of my head! But don't worry, it won't impede HH content! -also if you want your money to go exclusively still to HH don't worry, it's still funding the pilot as well COMICS -so stay tuned for HH comics as well!”

[teaguehq]

I can imagine how amazing it was being in Spider-Man, especially if you were a fan of the comics as a kid too! It's just cool being able to do things your kid self would approve of. I'm excited for Dune 3 myself, and it's good news that there will be another! Though I can imagine you being done with sand for a while after filming that and I can't exactly blame you. I was so happy our film got nominated for an Oscar for visual effects, especially since I know Wes and his team put so much into those. So had to feel like a little victory for them! And if we do end up having another film, it'll be fun to get back into the swing of things, literally! I almost feel like the ape greetings are something special for my cast members, so I'm sorry, I have to reserve that for them! I still can't say much about the true crime project aside from that it focuses on JonBenet Ramsey, even though we've finished filming it. Though hoping it'll be something you'd like to watch, with being a true crime fan! I only wish I were part of a mafia film since I feel like that'd be a lot of fun. How's filming for the show going, or are you finished with it now? See, you'll fit right in with the cast given your love of jungle gyms! And why not get a jungle gym at your place since you like them? Nothing wrong with it, and if you decide later on to have kids, they'll have something to play on. I appreciate that, and you know I'll excitedly give you the news if we end up doing another film! I think Wes would be so happy you want to work with him, and he's certainly a lot of fun to have at the helm of a project! I'm hoping you two can work on something together one day, and bonus if I'm part of it. I hope you had a good holiday season yourself! We mostly spent them in New York, which was nice. Can't deny that city does up the holidays with amazing flair. | @dayamsc

of course, the film was amazing and it always makes me happy to tell people i love the film they're in -- and honestly, i can't stress enough on how much i loved noa and mae. it's always amazing being part of something that you loved when you were a kid, right? because that's exactly how i felt being part of spider-man! well, from what i've been contacted about, dune three is a go, and i'll admit i'm pretty excited about that. even though i'm not excited about all the sand again, you do what you got to do, right? and thank you for saying i was incredible in it, that makes me happy to hear! i'm always amazed by all the new technology they have for films, and when it looks so realistic, it just blows my mind. i saw you guys got nominated for an oscar for best visual effects, and that's just so amazing to me! i'm glad that you're back to normal now, but i had a feeling that if they do have a second one, you'd have no problem getting back into the ape mannerisms! i just think it's neat the way you guys moved your bodies and made it so believable -- that's so much talent if you ask me! you've got me wanting to facetime you so you'll greet me like an ape, i hope you know that! even though i have no idea how to be an ape, so i can't greet you back sadly! you're filming something for true crime? big fan of true crime, i'll admit, in fact i've been watching snapped late at night when i can't sleep. is the true crime thing something you can talk about? i always feel like if you're filming in jersey it's about the mafia for some reason, so that's why it always makes me curious. which is silly, right? well, filming starts on the 30th for euphoria, at least that's what i was last told so we'll see. i just want to start filming so i can end this chapter, you know? and end the chapter for rue! hey, you've got me excited for ape school, so i know i'll want to do it. especially since i love jungle gyms so much, like if i could have one at my house and not be looked at funny since we don't have kids, i would have one. i'm keeping my fingers crossed for you, alright? because i want another one too for your sake, because i'd love to see what else noa could get up to! and thank you, you're a real friend for offering to casually drop that i'd like to be part of the sequel to see if it'll happen. plus, i've loved wes's work since the maze runner, so i would just love to work with him in general. also, i hope you ended up having a good holidays! did you end up doing anything special? || @teaguehq