#I’d give anything to spend new years wrapped up in him.

[tootiecakes234]

“Kats…..Katsuki”,

“Hmmmmm”, he groaned into his pillow.

“Happy New Year. Ya gotta gimme a kiss or we won’t be together the whole year” you try to whisper but it doesn’t work all that well.

“ ‘ve been married for 3 years, ya ass ain’t goin anywhere. Go to sleep.” He mumbled turning his head and trying to go back to sleep.

“Yea and we’ve been together all this time cuz we kiss every new year. Now plant one on me hot stuff.” And you pucker your lips waiting.

He rolls back over moaning some not so nice things before he raises his head and presses a kiss to your lips.

“You satisfied now? Can I go back to sleep?”

“Yep. Good night old man.”, you say all sweet like and tuck yourself into the sheets.

Before you know it he’s pulled you to him and tucked your head underneath his chin.

“Happy new year princess.”

Another year with the man of your dreams. The luckiest person in the whole world.

Katsuki Masterlist

[lady-ashfade]

Blood And Pressure

Part three

Yandere!Pjo × Fem!Grisha!reader. (Platonic Yandere gods) (romantic!various characters)

-♡ Chapters: Previous // Next

-♡ characters: Percy Jackson, Luke Castellan, Clarisse La Rue, Annabeth Chase, Grover Underwood

-♡ this is a shadow & bone slight crossover. Reader is a heartrender and that's all really (maybe more in the future!)

-♡ Please note that all characters are aged appropriately, so all characters are older versions of the book characters. So 17-19 characters for these, you can choose any of them really. Just that they are older teens. (Except for Clarisse and Luke at pjo show actors)

-♡ warnings: short, yandere behaviors, obsession, stalking, slightly sick love, possessive, manipulative, gaslighting, platonic yandere too, blood powers, powerful powers but not godly, and future warnings when more chapters come out. (Luke will be back don’t worry)

“Well,” you sigh and look at Percy with sadness but tried to not show it. In this short time you had someone who dispute just meeting you, gave you something you wanted for as long as you have been here. A friend.

“You’ll be great here. Luke will take care of you.” Percy gripped the straps of his backpack at his name on your lips.

“Yeah, he seems nice..” he looked past your shoulder at the boy that must have been a year older then him. But he was much larger then he was..more muscular and a few inches taller.

“It’s hard to be in a new place, trust me I know that.” You paused for a second and he could see you running over your thoughts. Before he could piece together anything you wrapped your arms around him and embraced him.

He was stunned in place as his chest become breathless at being close to you. This was his chance, so he wrapped his arms around you and smiled at how your hair smelled sweet.

“Thank you Percy,” you whispered while still holding so tightly onto him. You cared little about anything else.

“For what?”

“Giving me a friend for as long as I can.” You pulled back from him and stepped away with a embarrassed expression. Before percy could reply, Chiron called your name and you gave him one last look and walked away.

You walked out the cabin beside the centaur with your legs practically dragging.

You felt sick to your stomach while thinking of being back in the house and being stuck there again with no one your age to hang out with. You stared at the ground while waking and you could feel Chirons gaze on you but you didn’t bother looking up.

Deep down you knew you weren’t supposed to be here. It didn’t make sense to you but you blacked out everything before this “camp” and only pieces came back to you. You remember someone training you…you remembered your powers and how to use them. And, you remember the book you had- the only thing of your old life. But not what you are.

“It’s just a silly little story,” you overheard the first night in the big house. “Just let her keep it.” Chiron convinced the god.

Now you got a taste of freedom you didn’t want to go back. You wanted to be with people your own age, you wanted friends. You think i’d go insane to spend another week trapped in that place.

“So,” a new voice creeped up in your ears. You both come to a stop and you find yourself looking up. A new girl. She was beautiful but her harsh glare and muscles set a shiver down your spine. Her eyes looked you up and down causing you to shift uncomfortably.

“She’s finally out of her cage.” Her teeth poked out from her smile and for some reason it reminded you of a shark or a lion…like she hunted pray for fun, and you were her next kill.

“Clarisse, lovely to see you.” The man smiled softly but his voice sounded different like a warning of some sort. “We are just going back, is there anything you need?” You throat goes dry when she starts to step closer to you.

“What is she? No one at camp knows but you guys seem to,” you play with your fingers under her almost threatening gaze. You remember one glare like that…Ares had one.

Not that you ever met him really but there was a dream. You were in a place with thrones around you and people sat amongst them and screamed at each other. Not much did you catch or remember of what was said, almost like you were meant to. But the subject did revolve around you.

“Tell me, what are you?” That’s when things clicked in your mind. Someone had asked that before.

“That’s enough. Go back to your cabin—”

“I’m a heartrender.”

The pair stare at you before moving their wide eyes up. You feel your blood pump faster and a growing confidence and remember who you were. Slowly coming down from high you felt, you notice their gaze wasn’t on you anymore but just above you.

“What?” You asked before taking a glance above you and see something shining bright above you. Stepping back you found yourself confused…no god was your parent, you weren’t a half blood. So why was one claiming you…

Thunder could be heard and rumbled underneath your feet. This couldn’t be right.

“That’s impossible..”

A peacock feather hung above your head in all its glory.

Taglist @maria699669 @gorgeourrific-nerd @alliriseabove @targaryenluvs @theaaeht @dabalyuteeeftia @weepingwitchofthewest @iris1587 @tulipmagnoliaisme @ameliashideout @purplerose291 @poppyflower-22 @riaaavm

[moonlinos]

Invisible string (pt. III)

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader

♡ Synopsis: After so many years of being closed off from the idea of love, you finally allow yourself to feel it freely with Minho.

♡ Genre: A ‘lite version’ of a soulmate AU, fluff, smut

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), oral sex (female receiving), protected sex, swearing

♡ Word count: 16.4k

♡ A/N: A part of this chapter was almost shamelessly inspired by the song that inspired the plot in the first place, Invisible String by Taylor Swift. Also really inspired by my favorite Minho vlog, Lee Know Log 4 🩷

To those who have asked to be tagged in this story: would any of you be interested in being tagged in any new work I post later? Let me know! And thank you for reading and giving me such a great experience posting my writing here for the first time 🩷

← part II ♡ ⟳ part I

You spend the entire flight home processing everything that had happened during the trip; from Minho’s words, to your kisses and touches, to you ultimately acknowledging your own romantic feelings for him. Although it all felt sudden, it had been a long time coming.

As his car stops at the front of your house, Minho steps out and walks with you, your backpack in hand.

“I know you’re scared. I understand that even more now that I know about your past relationships,” he speaks softly as the two of you stop at the front door, “And I want you to know that I’m gonna be patient.”

You nod slowly, although the desire to answer him is still so prevalent in your mind, the words lodged in your throat and yearning to spill out. But you’ve made the mistake of jumping into relationships far too often, always driven by your emotions, and every time, the outcome has been disastrous. You don’t want that to happen with Minho.

So, you settle on a question that has been eating away at you.

“Why do you like me, Minho?”

His face twists into a deep frown before ultimately softening. Carefully placing your backpack on the step leading to the front door, he sighs.

“You shouldn’t have to ask me that,” he assures you, his rough hands touching your shoulders before moving down your arms to entwine with your own. “You don’t even realize how fucking amazing you are, do you? I’d move mountains, fight anyone and do anything if it meant I’d have the privilege to see you smile.”

And, just like that, you feel your lips stretch out into a small smile at his words. He grins at you.

“Just like that. I’d do anything to see that,” he says. “And you take care of your friends simply because you love them, never asking for anything in return. You collect plushies like me, you appreciate the criminally underrated flavor of lemon cake, and you worked at the same convenience store as me, and spilled coffee all over my notebook on the day we met. That’s why I like you; because you’re you.”

Tears threaten to well up in your eyes, so you quickly avert your gaze, focusing on your shoes. With a nod, you wrap your arms around Minho, taking in his scent and reveling in the comforting warmth of his body. Little did he know, you were just as willing to do whatever it took to keep him near you. He plants a chaste kiss on your forehead as you break away from his embrace.

“I’ll call you later, okay? Thank you for the trip.”

 

As soon as you step inside your house, Eunha is quick to come running towards you, her hands dirty with flour as she abandons her unbaked cookies on the counter and pulls you into a hug.

“I missed you so much,” she whines, “How will I survive living without you next year?”

You chuckle, watching as her lips turn into a pout.

“I’m sure we’ll suffer equally, if that makes you feel better.”

She fakes a sob, turning on her heels and heading toward the kitchen.

“Oh, Hyunjin is in a crisis, apparently,” she tells you, wiping her hands on her apron. “He called me three times just today to ask if you were back already.”

You let out a sigh. Hyunjin was more often than not either glum or vexed due to his trials and mishaps in finding love. He once joked that you two would end up having to marry each other with how things were going. You dreaded his reaction to the news of Minho soon entering your life in a new way.

“The hotel’s Wi-Fi was a joke, but I honestly didn’t even think to check my phone,” you tell Eunha, who giggles as she cuts her cookies into heart shapes. “What? Why are you giggling like that?” You ask her with a grin, approaching the counter.

She shrugs. “Nothing. I didn’t even think to check my phone,” she playfully mimics your voice, looking up at you, “I’m guessing you had fun, then?”

“I did,” you beam, “It was everything I thought it would be and even more.”

She raises an eyebrow at you. “Even more?”

“Even more,” you reiterate. “I had so much fun with Minho. I forgot how good it feels to just let go and allow myself to feel what I want to feel.”

Eunha’s lips curl into a small smile. She hums, lowering her head in a feeble attempt at pretending to focus on the cookies in front of her. “And what did you want to feel this weekend?”

“Like maybe I can finally fall in love again.”

Your friend lifts her head, her eyes wide. “Love?” she exclaims, “You, the girl who has spent every day since I met you talking about how love isn’t important, is wanting to fall in love?”

You chuckle at her reaction, shrugging dismissively. “In my defense, I had my reasons. Plus, some things made me change my mind.”

“More like someone,” Eunha teases, and you roll your eyes at her, but a smile spreads on your lips unwittingly. “I’m happy for you,” she beams, “and I think you should definitely fall in love again — not maybe.”

You sprint across the small kitchen space, circling around the counter to wrap your arms around Eunha and squeezing her as she lightly pushes you away, warning you about flour getting all over your clothes, but you don’t mind.

Because you love her, as you’ve learned this past weekend, and you don’t mind the mess when it comes to someone you love.

It’s only as you enter your room that you check your phone, which is filled with notifications from Hyunjin, much like Eunha had said. After ten missed calls, it seems he resorted to simply texting you.

Hyune: hey I know you’re in japan but can you answer the phone? Hyune: I promise I’ll be quick. just wanna talk to you Hyune: hear your voice idk I feel really alone rn and really bad idk lol Hyune: mingyu has his girlfriend over. can you believe they’re still together? Hyune: can you believe he has a girlfriend and I can’t even find someone to give me the time of day lol Hyune: can you believe every date I go to ends with me crying lol Hyune: sorry I’m being annoying and the messages aren’t even being delivered, you’re clearly having fun sorry Hyune: sorry Hyune: guess that’s why nobody can endure me for more than two dates Hyune: have fun 🤍 I love you

You feel your heart ache as you read his messages, answering with an apology. But before you can hit send on your second message, Hyunjin has already replied. 

Hyune: it’s okay. I’m sorry I even sent those in the first place

Me: Stop apologizing Me: You know I love you and I’ll always be here for you Me: Where are you?

Hyune: at my dorm Hyune: staring at the ceiling

Me: I’m coming over

True to his words, Hyunjin is lying on the floor of his dorm’s cramped living room once you open the door. There’s a small canvas propped up against the wall, a myriad of shades of blue forming the shape of a face. Your best friend’s talent never ceases to amaze you, and you have to fight the urge to stand still by the front door for a few seconds simply admiring his new painting.

“Look at this sulking Pisces,” you click your tongue as you approach Hyunjin, who only opens one eye to shoot you a glance.

“I’m in a fragile state and this is how you greet me,” he all but pouts before sitting up as you sit cross-legged beside him on the floor. “How was the trip?”

You shrug. “It was fun. We only had one day to explore the city, so we didn’t do much,” you say simply, tapping your fingers on your thigh.

You don’t want to sit and talk about how much fun you had during a trip when Hyunjin’s puffy, bloodshot eyes are staring directly at you. He was sad, and his sadness was palpable throughout the entire living room — his bitten lips, his painting, his hands covered in dried-up blue paint; everything was dripping in sadness. This was a constant with Hyunjin, but lately it had become even worse. He has an overwhelming desire to love and be loved, but his every attempt at fulfilling this desire is futile for reasons you cannot wrap your head around.

“I like the new painting,” you smile, focusing on the saddened blue face. Hyunjin scoffs beside you.

“It’s fucking terrible,” His hand shoves the canvas face down on the floor. You bite your lip. “Can’t even paint shit I like anymore. Every time I try, it always turns out muddy and sad.”

“What happened?”

He lets out a bitter chuckle. “Well I’m pathetic, so it’s still the same old reason. I had a date with this girl on Saturday, but she canceled at the last minute. Texted me something about me being too clingy after she agreed to go out with me, about how she knows she would feel suffocated if we dated.”

You furrow your brows together, anger bubbling up inside your chest. “What the fuck?”

“Oh, but don’t worry!” Hyunjin gave you a forced smile. “She made sure to remind me that it was her, not me, and that lots of women out there like guys like me. Whatever the fuck that means.”

Hyunjin shakes his head, turning his attention toward his hands before scratching some of the dried paint off. You sigh.

“Hyunjin, she isn’t wrong about that. You know that, right? You’re not the one at fault.”

He scoffs. “Sure seems like it when every date I’ve gone to since starting university has ended up with me being rejected for the same fucking reasons. It’s always me. Too clingy, too sentimental, too emotional,” his voice is almost a whisper as he speaks. He turns to face you again. “Remember how I would stop sleeping with you whenever I liked someone? Wanna know why I stopped doing that? ‘Cause I know it’s not gonna go anywhere anyway, so what’s the point? It never goes anywhere, and then I’m left alone again. Maybe I should just accept it, y’know? Some people are just meant to be alone, and clearly I’m one of them.”

Your anger has now morphed into sadness. You hate the way Hyunjin talks about himself, hate it even more how it seems nobody can appreciate the amazing person he is. Being caring and sentimental is not a flaw, and you pray that he never allows other people’s opinions to sway him into thinking that way. You pray he finds someone who can appreciate these qualities in him the same way you do.

“You’re not alone, Hyune,” you assure him, taking one of his hands in yours. “You’re surrounded by friends who love you so much, and while I know that’s not the type of love you yearn for, it’s still love.”

Hyunjin smiles softly at you before pulling you closer and pressing his lips to yours. It’s sudden but not entirely unexpected; the way you and Hyunjin dealt with shitty things in life and unpleasant feelings together had always been through sex, and you knew it always made him feel at least a little better afterward. And so you let him, returning the kiss even as part of you felt wrong doing it when your entire being was consumed with thoughts of only Minho.

As soon as he kisses you, he swiftly pushes you down onto the hardwood floor and hovers over you. Hyunjin’s fingers undo the buttons of your cardigan before slipping under your shirt, caressing your skin as his lips trail kisses down your neck. Soon enough, his body is pressed up against your spread thighs, and you know where this is going — but as much as you want to make your best friend feel better, you cannot bring yourself to do it.

“Hyune,” you softly call out, and he hums against your throat. “We can’t do this.”

He chuckles, squeezing your waist. “Mingyu always comes home late when he goes out with his girlfriend. Don’t worry.”

“It’s not that, Hyunjin. I just—”

“Do you not wanna fuck on the floor?” He asks, coming up to look at you. He cocks his head to the side. “We can just do it on the couch then, I really don’t wanna have sex with all those pictures of Mingyu and his friends staring at us in our room.”

“Hyunjin, no—”

“It’s not like we never did it on a couch before, stop being dramatic—”

“I’m in love with Minho.”

It comes out before you can fully comprehend what you’re saying, the word love slipping past your lips effortlessly. Hyunjin stills on top of you, his body rigid and tense. 

“Oh,” is all he offers you. You nod slowly, fingers picking at a drop of paint that stained the collar of his shirt.

You whisper, “I really am just as surprised as you are, believe me.”

Hyunjin shrugs. “I’m not surprised. I just— now you’re leaving me, too.”

You shake your head. It’s ludicrous to you that Hyunjin could imagine that you would ever even entertain the thought of leaving him. Running a hand through his messy hair, you pull him in and press a kiss to his nose. Hyunjin hides his face in the crook of your neck with a groan.

“Sorry, that was pathetic. I shouldn’t have said that,” he apologizes. “You know I don’t mean it like that. I just love you so much. I thought we would…”

You furrow your brows as he trails off his words. You thread your fingers through his long hair. “We would…?”

“End up together somehow,” he speaks slowly, his voice muffled, and your heart drops.

Hyunjin harboring these feelings about you was something you would never have imagined. You were certain he was content being your friend and having sex with you only until he found the right person. He went on several dates, after all. Your heart feels like it’s been shattered into a million tiny pieces upon learning about his hidden desire for the future he used to so often joke about: you two ending up together simply because you were each other’s only choices.

“Hyunjin,” you start carefully, “I love you, too. So much. You’re my best friend, and that’s never going to change. We don’t have to be together romantically for us to be in love, y’know? I realized that just recently.”

You feel him nod his head, his hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers.

“I’m just sad I won’t have you anymore. I’m gonna miss us so much,” he places a small kiss on your collarbone. “Whenever I felt like I was in a dark pit with no way out, every single time you were there to bring me out of it and make me feel okay again. I love you so much for that.”

And you can only softly smile at his words before your heart shatters all over again as you hear him quietly begin to sob in your skin.

“Hyunjin,” you call out, although you know he won’t reply. “You’re the most beautiful soul I’ve ever met. My love for you goes beyond us having sex — that wasn’t even important to me in our relationship. It was just something good on top of something already amazing.” With a slow nod, he lifts his head and gazes at you with red, teary eyes, causing your heart to ache even more. “I’ll never leave you. Ever. I’ll still answer your four hundred three a.m. texts, still let you hide away in my house, still happily listen to you complain about your days, and still hold you when you cry.”

Hyunjin pouts like a child, and your heart swells with fondness.

“Really?” He asks, and you chuckle with a nod.

“Really,” you assure him. “Me being with someone will never change our friendship, or my love for you. I mean, we won’t have sex anymore, of course, but I’ll still talk shit about your roommate with you so I’m sure you’ll forgive me.”

Hyunjin’s tearful expression vanishes, replaced by a small teasing grin. “I am gonna have to jerk off significantly more, so I don’t know about forgiveness,” he jokes.

You push him off you with a chuckle, sitting up as he tries to regain his balance.

“When did this whole thing with Minho even happen?” Hyunjin asks, setting his painting back against the wall. You shrug, buttoning up your cardigan. He hums. “So, are you already together?”

“Not yet,” you say, “but I’m gonna answer him after our class this week. If he fucking lets me, that is. He says he wants to be patient, but I don’t want to be patient. The only thing I wanna be is with him.”

Hyunjin’s whole body contorts as he groans. “Ew, what the fuck? When did you become such a sap?”

As you shove him back once more, you both burst into laughter while Hyunjin stumbles back and spills a mug filled with dirty paint water all over his floor.

The rest of the day goes by with you and Hyunjin painting together, a much broader array of colors and a much happier end result on the canvas: beautiful flowers painted by him standing alongside clumsily drawn hearts, stars, and other doodles painted by you. After signing your name above his elegant signature, you inform him the painting is leaving with you — it’s hanging up on your wall as soon as you arrive home.

Hyunjin is your best friend; it’s been this way for the last two years, and it’s indisputable to you that this fact will remain no matter what happens. As you watch him hunched over your painting, insisting that his flowers could be more detailed — even after you assured him a thousand times that they were perfect — you curse yourself for not realizing how beautiful this love between you two is. You hope he cherishes this love as well, in spite of his desire for the two of you to be together in the future. You know deep down this idea stemmed from his fear of solitude.

You’re not worried about him at all, though. He’s a precious soul, and anyone who fails to recognize that doesn’t deserve him. He’s simply getting rid of the wrong people in order to find the right person, someone who sees him as you do.

The love you feel for Hyunjin is unchanging, and if you had any say in it, it would be everlasting.

Your next Japanese class with Minho comes too soon, and you find yourself unprepared. Every trace of resolve you had after returning from your trip dissipated bit by bit every time you saw or talked to him. As soon as you saw his figure step into the coffee shop on Monday to pick up his usual order, you realized that every single scenario your mind had conjured up fell flat. Minho was beautiful, amazing, breathtaking — he deserved something grand and earth-shattering, not a simple answer from a girl who wasn’t even half as good as he was.

It certainly did not help that he, always true to his words, respected your time. Not once during his coffee trips or your never-ending talks through the phone did he mention the topic. And it was slowly but surely driving you insane.

You bite your lips so much on your way to university you’re sure your lipstick is gone by the time you enter the building, and you’re surprised your poor bag isn’t riddled with holes in the cloth from your insistent picking. You shouldn’t feel this nervous — Minho is the one waiting for an answer, after all. For all he knows, you could be simply building up the courage to let him down gently. But you are nervous. You’re terrified he will listen to your clumsy words and decide he deserves someone better. Or, worse yet, will only realize how undeserving of his love you are once you’re in a relationship.

And you don’t think you can face another heartbreak where you’re left to mend your gashes all alone.

You enter the building with shaky hands, fiddling with the strap of your bag and walking toward your classroom on autopilot as your mind is too busy running over all the ways in which this could go wrong.

All faded, however, once you saw Minho waiting for you in front of your classroom. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose as he looked down at his phone, his body wrapped in a cozy-looking black sweater and sweatpants, a keychain of a cat plushie hanging from his backpack matching his phone case. You stop a few feet away from him. He deserves the world, and that terrifies you. Still, his presence alone melts away every ugly word of doubt and every piece of worry inside your body until the only thing you can feel is the swirling of that familiar pinwheel spinning inside your chest.

You greet him with a long hug, hoping he can’t feel your heart beating through your own sweater.

After class, he walks you to work, enthusiastically telling you about the progress he, Chan and Seungmin have made on their game. You nod and hum along to his words, but you can’t, for the life of you, focus on a word he’s saying. All you want to do is tell him you like him — god, you like him so much — but every time you’re close to doing it, the ugly words return and scream that he deserves more than an underwhelming confession on a gloomy, empty street.

You stop walking as you two reach the bench located just far away enough from the hustle and bustle of students on campus, the one where no one bothered you when you sat here by yourself for three years, the one that had oddly become your favorite bench among all the other identical ones scattered throughout your university.

Because it was here that you and Minho had your first real conversation, it was here where you two laughed and gasped at all the little coincidences between your lives, and it was here where you began to build a friendship with this wonderful guy who would unknowingly change you for the better.

It was the perfect place, and you berated yourself for not realizing that sooner.

Minho’s voice calling out your name pulls you away from your thoughts, his hand wrapping around yours and pulling you gently toward his body. You hum before colliding against his chest as he chuckles.

“You just stopped walking,” he says, a lilt of confusion in his voice. “I know you hate work, but I didn’t think it was this serious.”

And when you properly turn to look at him, Minho is smiling so beautifully under the somber sky of winter, as if he is the embodiment of sunshine — always glistening and radiating such a comforting warmth no matter how glum the world around him is. And, at the sight of him, you just can’t stop your words. Never mind how gloomy this campus seems or how lackluster your words are — Minho’s presence alone makes everything become golden.

“I like you because you’re you,” you mirror his words at you, “Because you laughed in my face for spilling coffee all over your notebook when I didn’t even know you, because you love coffee just as much as I hate it, and because you believe in silly myths about riding paddle boats together,” You blurt out, words completely unbidden by your brain. Minho’s eyes widened for a beat before slowly turning into crescent moons as a smile spread across his lips. You take a deep breath before continuing, the words flowing out of you so quickly you’re worried he won’t be able to understand you, “And you opened my eyes to the love I feel for my friends, which I was so fucking stupid and blinded to. But, most importantly, you taught me that love isn’t bad. It can never be bad because you’re love, Minho. You’re full of love, and there’s not an ounce of anything bad in you. And you make me feel deserving of this love, even though I still don’t understand how I can be deserving of something so beautiful.”

Minho’s arms are pulling you into an embrace before you can process everything you said, and by the time you seem to come to your senses, you realize tears have welled up in your eyes. He holds you close to him silently for a while, his left hand delicately massaging your scalp as you clutch onto the fabric of his sweater as if he might be taken away from you if you let go.

“I like you, too,” he whispers against your hair, and you feel your lips contort into a pout.

“You already told me that,” you grumble. “I just word-vomited my feelings to you and this is all you have to say?”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your head. “What else is there to say? I like you so much I don’t think I can put it into words. I might just say something stupid if I talk about it too much.”

You furrow your brows, pulling away from his embrace to face him. “Something stupid like what?”

“Like saying I love you.”

Your lips part, but no words come out. Yet again, Minho has rendered you speechless. He shakes his head dismissively, a smile still etched onto his lips.

“No need to say anything. I told you it was stupid,” his eyes drift over to the bench beside you two, and his smile grows. “Guess this has to become my favorite bench too.”

You let out a laugh, but it’s cut short by your tears spilling out again. Minho quickly turns to look at you again, his expression shifting into a mixture of happiness and worry for you as he wipes your tears away with his thumbs.

And as the sun begins to set, the street lights flicker on, casting a warm, yellow glow over everything around you. You cup Minho’s face and press a chaste kiss to his lips, then to his nose, before wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into an embrace once again.

“I don’t think I’m ready to love you yet. I’m sorry,” you apologize, both to him and yourself.

Minho simply hums, kissing your cheek. “I told you I’m patient, because love is patient. I would wait an eternity for the privilege of hearing you say you love me.”

You and Minho have officially been together for almost two months by the time winter break arrives. You’ve done everything couples do, except for two things: say I love you and go all the way. You’ve done every other possible thing — well, Minho has done every other possible thing to you, with you discovering that Minho particularly loves eating you out, often laying on your lap on your couch after work and rubbing his head against your thighs like a cat, humming and sighing until he has your attention before all but begging you to let him go down on you. Whenever you offer to do the same to him, in any way, he immediately turns the offer down, saying he’s satisfied just pleasuring you. It always leaves you with a million questions, as you notice him have to adjust himself in his pants or coincidently go to the bathroom, but you don’t question it.

The two of you also found ways to get around the whole L-word situation. I missed you becoming your go-to phrase for when you want to scream out that you love him, but are still unable to, while he usually just makes you swallow both your words and his own that are lingering inside your mouth with a kiss.

You had fallen into a routine quickly, with you visiting Minho most evenings after your shift to just lay on Chan’s stiff leather couch and watch him work. You two always hang out with his co-workers slash friends for a while before leaving for the night — Seungmin becoming like the pestering but loveable little brother you never had — and you head to your house in Minho’s car before you sneak him into your home so Mrs. Choi remains none the wiser.

Her ‘no boyfriends spending over two days at the house’ rule can’t possibly apply if she doesn’t even know Minho is there in the first place.

And so, he’s been basically living alongside you and your housemates. This outcome was almost inevitable since Minho hates his roommates while you love each other’s company.

You’re now packing your things with Hyunjin, who’s been sitting on your bed for the last half-hour rather than helping you as he’d promised. In the past month, he’s been able to come to terms with the fact that his ideal future with you was nothing but a coping mechanism after a month of sulking every time Minho was around. He deleted every shitty dating app on his phone and now focuses on finding love naturally, recently going out with a girl he met in one of his classes. The first time they met was the epitome of a meet-cute, with her accidentally bumping into him and spilling black paint all over his shirt. It brought back memories of when you first met Minho, and you had high hopes that this time things would work out differently for him. But, judging by the scowl on Hyunjin’s face and his nonstop complaining, you were wrong.

“But, be for real, why did it take her six dates to realize she doesn’t think we’ll work out?” He grumbles, spinning one of your necklaces around his finger like it’s a toy. “I paid for every meal, made sure she got at least two orgasms every time we went out, and she just suddenly decides we won’t work out? Fuck off.’’

You chuckle, closing your suitcase after triple-checking that you packed Minho’s Christmas present and walking over to where Hyunjin is sitting, snatching your necklace from his hand.

“Maybe she liked the free food and orgasms too much to let them go.”

Hyunjin scowls. “You’re saying that’s the only reason she went out with me?” He feigns offense, shaking his head. “I hope Minho’s parents hate your guts.”

“Hyunjin!” You exclaim, watching as he bursts out laughing. “Don’t even joke about that. You know how nervous I am.”

“There’s no way they won’t like you,” He assures you, “You’re fucking amazing, not to mention their son loves you. That’s more than enough reason to love you too.”

You clutch the necklace in your hand, humming before turning on your heels to check your drawers for anything you might have missed. Hyunjin using the word love makes you a bit anxious, an unwelcome reminder that you still haven’t been able to overcome this stupid emotional blockage preventing you from telling Minho you love him. The first and only time you’d ever said you loved Minho was that evening at Hyunjin’s dorm, and it hadn’t even been directed at him. Without saying a word, you both understand the love that exists between you — it’s unspoken, but deeply felt — and you’re aware of that, but the fear that one day he’ll grow tired of waiting is painfully tangible inside your mind.

When Minho invited you to spend Christmas with his family, you hesitated at first. Meeting your ex-boyfriends’ families had never been so significant. You were a teenager at the time, the implications were different and the stakes didn’t seem as high. This time, it feels as if getting Minho’s parents to like you is indispensable. How will he go on dating a woman his parents deem unfit for him? Especially with how highly he speaks of his mother, you’re sure her opinion of you will weigh on his mind.

You can only hope they love you half as much as you love their son.

The car ride to Minho’s parents’ house was around half an hour.

Half an hour you spent picking at a loose thread on your skirt and overthinking so much your head ached by the time he parked the car. You hated how nervous you were, but Minho’s parents liking you was a non-negotiable. 

After insisting on carrying your own suitcase — just in case his parents might think you’re an overbearing girlfriend if they see Minho carrying your bag for you — the two of you walk up the stairs and into his home. The first thing you notice is how cozy-looking everything is; from the family pictures neatly placed on coffee tables and on the walls, cat furniture and toys mixed in with their actual furniture, down to the fuzzy blankets thrown over the couches.

The second thing that catches your attention is the quietude permeating throughout the house, as well as the fact that the first family member to greet you two is an orange cat.

“Oh, did you miss me this much?” Minho asks in a sweet, singsong voice, similar to how you would speak to a baby. He crouches down to pet the cat, who is now entangling himself between his legs. He introduces you by your name, because Soonie is truly just another family member to him. You chuckle, kneeling next to him and carefully extending your hand toward the orange ball of fur.

“Hello, Soonie,” you speak quietly, afraid you’ll spook him. He eyes you carefully before sniffing your fingers and, ultimately, rubbing his head on your hand. You sigh in relief, petting his fur with a smile.

Minho’s cats liking you was also a non-negotiable.

You place your suitcases in Minho’s childhood bedroom, his parents letting him know they will arrive a little late after going Christmas shopping. Looking around his small room, you smile at all the small things that scream Lee Minho. The pictures of him and his friends back in high school are the first thing you notice, glued to the wall in front of his door lopsided. His thick-rimmed glasses and bowl cut make you smile as you analyze one of the pictures, where he and four other boys hug and smile widely in a karaoke room. Then, of course, his extensive plushie collection sat against a wall to your left — all stacked on top of each other like a mountain — which he proudly shows off to you.

“Y’know, I had to basically fight a little girl at the Sanrio store for this one,” he says, a bit too smugly, while holding a plush of Kuromi dressed in a ladybug costume. “I was sixteen, though, so I think that excuses my behavior. I would never do that nowadays.”

You narrow your eyes, humming skeptically. “Sure you wouldn’t.”

Minho just chuckles, meticulously placing the doll back in its place beside the cherry on top of a rather large Pusheen pudding plushie.

“Oh! You have to see my books.” He takes your hand in his, dragging you toward the wall facing his bed. A bookshelf expanding from the floor to the ceiling makes your mouth drop. You hadn’t noticed it before, with it being hidden away in the corner of the room. The bookshelf is decorated with fairy lights — which Minho promptly switches on — and filled with beautiful books, from intricately designed hard covers to intricate sprayed edges, every single book in his collection has something special about it.

He uses a small metal ladder to reach the top of the shelves before handing you a book so thick your wrist almost bends upon grabbing it. It’s a collection of seven Jane Austen novels, all in a gorgeous blue and golden hardcover. You eye the book like it’s a precious jewel, carefully running your fingers over the details engraved on the cover. Beside you, Minho lets out a breathy laugh, stepping down from the ladder and bumping your shoulder lightly.

“You can open it,” he tells you, but you’re still too mesmerized by the book to look at him. “It’s what books are for, whether they’re pretty or not. You have to open it and read it, otherwise they lose their purpose.”

You nod slowly, but remain unmoving. Minho’s hand suddenly rests on top of yours, and he opens the book for you. The page is entirely annotated, with highlighters and thoughts jotted down on pencil in messy handwriting. Looking up at him, you are met by his smile.

“See? The book is fine, the world didn’t end. I have these special editions because I enjoy collecting pretty things, but I always read them,” he explains, “I like when books reflect the emotions I felt while reading them. I annotate, scribble, highlight — I once threw a special edition Stephen King book across the living room and into a wall. There’s an indentation on it till this day.”

You gasp. “Minho, what the fuck?”

He shrugs dismissively. “I know, I know. All book sins in the eyes of many people. But, like I said, that just reflects the emotions I felt while reading that book. I look through any of these pages and I know exactly what I felt at that time of my life.”

You nod, your lips absentmindedly curling into a smile. Minho truly is something else. You skim the page opened before you, reading some of his annotations and laughing quietly to yourself as he wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

As you close the book, he speaks again, “They’re a bit like people, aren’t they? Pretty and put-together on the outside, but once you really dig in, it’s all a mess and cluster of feelings and passion.”

 

You and Minho spend an hour lounging around the living room, with you meeting his other two cats during that time. Soonie and Doongie’s adoration toward Minho is clear, with both orange cats always rubbing against his leg or tangling themselves in his sneakers by the door as you two cuddle on the couch. Dori, however, remains laid on his cat tree, barely sparing the two of you a glance. Minho jokes that Dori hates him after he left his first mom, even showing you further proof in the form of a video where the gray cat bites his nose while he sleeps.

Upon hearing the key turn on the front door, your heart is quick to jump. Minho’s parents have arrived.

Sitting up on the couch, you gently push Minho away from you. He shoots you a questioning look.

“What? I don’t want them to think we were doing something indecent.”

“Indecent?” Minho repeats with a chuckle. “We were cuddling, not consummating a marriage on this couch.”

You grumble incoherent words under your breath, shrugging. “I know. I just want them to like me.”

“They were more than okay with seeing me cuddle my ex when I was a teen. We’re both adults, I’m pretty sure they won’t think you’re a filthy harlot.”

You gasp, hitting his chest and hissing through your teeth. “A harlot?”

Minho lets out a long, hearty laugh just as his parents walk through the door.

“Oh, there you are!” You hear his mother’s voice call out as soon as she steps inside the living room. You turn to face her and you’re greeted by the same smile you see on Minho’s face every day — they look so similar you have to hold back a gasp. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

You stand up from the couch and smooth down your long skirt, smiling while she walks toward you. You’re caught off guard when she pulls you into a hug as soon as she’s in front of you, her arms squeezing you as she sighs happily into your hair.

“Mom,” Minho calls out, “You’re scaring her.”

His mom pulls away with a chuckle, her left hand pinching her son’s cheek before resting on your shoulder again. “He’s the one who’s scared I’ll embarrass him,” she refutes. “And, god, you’re so pretty! Minho told me you were beautiful, but I just assumed it was the infatuation speaking.”

You feel your cheeks flush at her words, biting back a smile. Minho had talked to his mother about you — had said you were beautiful. You swear if you died tonight, you would die a happy woman.

As his mother steps away from you and into the kitchen, rambling on about how crowded the shopping mall had been, a man comes into your field of vision. He nods courtly before extending his hand, which you shake a bit awkwardly.

“I’m Minho’s dad,” he simply says. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Minho has been very happy on the phone since meeting you.”

And with that, he’s off into the kitchen, following his wife. You’re left a bit dazed. Minho truly was a perfect blend of his mother’s appearance and his father’s calm personality. 

Beside you, Minho pulls you into a side hug, his chilly hands caressing your arms. “See? It’s impossible not to love you.”

You freeze for a moment, before relaxing as you realize he’s talking about his parents loving you. You curse yourself inwardly for being so damn emotionally constipated, but let out a sigh of relief nonetheless.

You were worried for so many different reasons — that you wouldn’t measure up to Minho’s first girlfriend, that your personality would be scrutinized until your flaws finally emerged, and that this would be the catalyst for Minho to realize you’re not worth it. Not worth waiting until you can tell him you love him, not worth waiting until you feel like sex isn’t going to just ruin everything between you, not worth the hassle and the chore that is loving someone like you.

But as he walks into the kitchen with you, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist, like he’s proud to show you off to his parents, the level of reliability he radiates is enough to melt away all the annoying little worries you had inside your head.

Christmas eve comes two days later, and you’re rudely woken up in the morning by the sound of Minho’s voice cursing under his breath as he drops something on the floor by his bed. You groan, rubbing your eyes, and he turns to face you with an apologetic look on his face.

“Sorry,” he whispers, kneeling down next to the bed and pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Good morning.”

“What time is it?”

“Eight, I think.” His fingers brush your hair away from your face. “I didn’t set an alarm ‘cause I didn’t wanna wake you up, but guess my inability to be quiet did that anyway.”

You chuckle lightly, scrunching up your nose. “Why are you up so early?”

“Gotta start cooking dinner soon,” he explains.

“Already?” You ask, perplexed. You knew he cooked Christmas dinner all by himself every year for his family, but you never conceived just how much work that would be for a single person.

Minho is unyielding despite your best efforts at persuading him to stay and cuddle you for a few more hours, and watching him cook is always oddly attractive to you, so you find yourself joining him in the kitchen, wrapped up in one of his many cat print sweaters.

At first, you simply sit up at one of the counters and watch him, mesmerized and all but drooling at the way he rolls up his sleeves, the prominent veins making his arms look so sexy while doing such a mundane thing like chopping fucking vegetables. Not to mention his hands, so beautiful and big as he rubs the seasoning on something you don’t even care to identify because you’re just too busy thinking about those hands all over your body. Only now do you notice how no real sex for almost two months has really taken a toll on you, what with the way you have to cross your legs just to try and relieve some tension because your mind won’t stop thinking about Minho’s veiny arms caging you against this counter and his big hands—

Minho calls out your name, and you snap out of your fantasies, humming as you reluctantly turn your attention toward his face with a dazed expression. He seems to find it funny, as he chuckles before repeating himself, “I asked if you would like to help. I can teach you some of the easy stuff. Must be boring just sitting there and watching.”

Oh, but it isn’t boring at all.

But you’d never tell him that, so you nod before hopping off the counter and awaiting further instructions. Turns out you’re worse at cooking than you had thought, so you’re relegated to chopping duty, which you hate for two reasons — firstly, chopping vegetables is boring, and secondly, you’re now deprived of your view of Minho as you stand with your back turned to him while he cooks.

It’s around five p.m. when Minho’s mom joins you two in the kitchen, and by that time you’ve done all you could, so you’re back to your spot on the counter. She smiles at you before ruffling Minho’s hair as he closes the oven.

“My baby is such a wonderful cook, isn’t he?” she praises, and he shrugs with a smirk.

“I am very boyfriend material, aren’t I?”

You chuckle as you watch his mom carefully fixing his hair which she had messed up, Minho scrunching up his face as she then fixes his wire-frame glasses on his nose.

“I’m so glad you’re wearing your glasses again,” she comments, cupping his cheeks and squeezing before letting go. “You look so handsome.”

“You should thank her,” Minho smiles, turning to look at you, and you shoot him a puzzling look. “Remember on your birthday, when you told me I looked good wearing glasses?” He asks, and you nod slowly. “That’s why I stopped wearing contacts.”

Your mouth opens, but you can’t find the words to answer him. You can feel your cheeks dusting pink as his mom coos at the two of you, saying something about young love that has you gnawing on your lips to hold back the silly smile you want to let out.

Minho’s mom leaves the kitchen shortly after, his father calling her from the living room. He takes this as his chance to approach where you’re sitting, hands resting on your thighs before he presses his lips against yours.

“I wanted to look handsome for you. It’s kinda pathetic, isn’t it?” He chuckles against your lips, and you simply shake your head, tangling your fingers in his black hair that has now grown past his eyes.

“It’s actually fucking adorable,” you assure him, pulling him into another kiss, one much deeper than the last.

He quickly uses his hands to spread your thighs apart, pressing his body into yours as you wrap your legs around his waist. The effect this man has on you is mindboggling; the mere slide of his tongue against your lips has you shivering. It certainly doesn’t help that you are now in the exact position from your imagination earlier today.

Minho always tasted like your own personal favorite flavor, always deliciously swirling on your tongue whenever you kissed him. He always renders your mind fuzzy and silly as bliss consumes the entirety of your being. You can only imagine how sex with him will feel like, and you don’t think you can wait any longer. Your worries be damned. You needed him more than you could handle.

But just as Minho pulls you closer to his body — your core dangerously close to his crotch, and sucking on your tongue in a way that has you mewling against his lips — his mother calls out your names, and you two quickly separate, startled as if you were burned. She informs you his grandmother has arrived and you two walk to the living room to greet her. You silently thank the universe for her not walking into the kitchen; the last thing you want is for Minho’s poor grandmother to catch you two making out on the counter like two teenagers.

She is a sweet lady, certainly not as old as you expected her to be, and she always has a smile etched onto her lips stained with red lipstick. You don’t even have to ask to know she is his mother’s mom, as the three of them share the exact same smile you grew to love so much.

You find yourself even more comfortable today, as you help both women set up the table for dinner — his grandma meticulously placing a beautiful lace cloth over the table while telling you about how this was one of her late husband’s first gifts to her when they first moved in together. 

It felt as if you were part of the family.

And as you turn on your heels to grab the fancy silverware from a cabinet, your eyes meet Minho’s gaze. With a smile on his face, he stands by the kitchen door, watching you, and your heart swells with joy.

This was everything you never thought love could be.

Christmas dinner was amazing — as you knew it would be. Minho’s cooking is always fantastic, and pure happiness is written all over his face whenever he was complimented. The way he offers to serve everyone, watching intently as each of you took the first bite before he finally allowed himself to eat as well, his lips upturned into a grin and his ears red as you all hummed and gasped at how tasty everything was. It’s his love language; from the way he carefully and methodically prepares the food, to the way he enjoys watching other people eat more than eating himself. He shows his love through his cooking, you realize, and you smile as you think back to numerous times you woke up in the morning with a beautiful table set with breakfast for you after he spent the night at your house.

You haven’t put it into words yet, but he has unquestionably been showing his love for you through his little actions.

And that’s what you want to do tonight as well.

After watching a cliche Christmas movie with his family, you two are now the only ones awake with you drying off the dishes Minho’s washing. He looks beautiful even now, with his hands clad in neon green dishwashing gloves.

“Minho,” you call out, poking his rib with the plate he just handed you. He squirms with a giggle, warning you to not tickle him. You simply hum, continuing as nonchalantly as you can. “Do you wanna have sex tonight?”

His hand stills, dropping a knife on the sink as his head turns abruptly to look at you, eyes bewildered. “What? What, and you ask me this now? While we’re doing the dishes?” He sputters, and you grin with a shrug.

“It’s not a big deal,” you say, placing the plate on top of the counter. “I just… really wanna do it. Really want you.”

Minho turns off the tap — at least five knives left ignored at the bottom of the sink — removes his gloves and lets out a heavy sigh.

“Okay, not what I expected to happen on Christmas night, but I’ll take it.”

You both stare at each other for a beat, before inexplicably bursting out laughing. Maybe it’s the sheer suddenness of your request, or the absurdity of the situation you were in when it happened, but you can’t help it.

As you both calm down, Minho pulls you into his arms and informs you that he will have to go out and buy condoms, since he truly wasn’t expecting anything to happen. You don’t fault him, the two months you’ve been together were filled with you all but running away from sex. You couldn’t help it, your brain always dragging you back to that night in Japan, and the way he avoided your gaze in the morning. Although you knew it was irrational, and that he was simply shy, your self-sabotaging skills were too great, and your mind insisted that if you had sex with Minho too soon he would think you were nothing but a slut. That’s what you were told most of your life, anyway, so you couldn’t be blamed for the way your brain was almost conditioned into assuming the same.

But Minho had proved time and time again that he was not like the awful guys before him, and that all your worrying was unwarranted and foolish. You were depriving yourself of something you wanted badly out of sheer insecurity and attachment to experiences so far in the past it was almost masochistic at this point.

You insist on joining him on his impromptu trip to the convenience store, only throwing one of his sweaters over the dress and tights you wore for Christmas dinner.

Minho holds your hand as you two walk down the empty street, Christmas lights from the houses and stores making everything seem almost like a movie. You spot the familiar logo from across the street, and Minho bumps his shoulder with you while you head toward the convenience store chain where you both once worked.

“This is actually the exact one I used to work at,” He tells you as you look through a fridge hidden away in the back of the store. “I loved working the graveyard shift. I rang up so many couples awkwardly buying condoms like they were buying hard drugs.”

You chuckle, settling for some pudding you two could share later. “Will that be us tonight?”

He shrugs. “We’re adults, it’s normal to buy these things. Unless you want me to act like I’m buying crack cocaine, then I’d be happy to indulge you.”

You stick your tongue out at him with a light shove, turning to look through the rather lacking options on the condom shelf.

“Grape flavor?” Minho makes a face as he eyes one of the boxes. “Who the fuck would want the artificial taste of grapes when fucking?”

You shrug. “Could be worse, imagine banana-flavored condoms. I think I’d throw up all over your dick.”

“That’s sexy,” He jokes, and you let out a loud chuckle, earning you a look from the only other person at the store this time of night on Christmas eve.

Among your other options are a green glow-in-the-dark condom — which would only make you think of Shrek while Minho fucks you — and a strawberry-flavored one. You decide to play it safe, grabbing a box of plain, thin condoms and placing them in the basket Minho’s carrying.

“Let’s just go for the safest option,” you tell him, “We’ll have plenty of time to play around later if you want, though I’ll go on birth control once we’re back home so we won’t even need them anyway.”

You watch as Minho’s eyes widen for a second, his eyebrows shooting up almost comically.

“Sure, yeah.”

“Don’t short-circuit now. I need you functioning to fuck me.”

“Keep saying shit like that and I’ll be broken before we even make it back to my house,” he states matter-of-factly, and you chuckle, shaking your head at his words. But Minho’s expression remains unchanged. “I mean it. It’s been over a year since I’ve had proper sex. I’m surprised I didn’t combust the second you said those words to me in the kitchen.”

With a chuckle, you pull him to your side and walk toward the cashier. It’s a poor teenage boy, no older than eighteen, clearly bored out of his mind and wishing to be anywhere but here. As he rings up your items, Minho points to his phone that’s resting on the counter.

“That’s Ahri from League of Legends, right?” He asks, and the boy looks up, his eyes sparking with interest. He nods. “I don’t play, but I’m a game programmer, so I know a little bit about it. What’s your rank?”

“Grandmaster,” the boy answers proudly, his face lighting up with a hint of joy, probably for the first time since his shift started.

“Oohh,” Minho gasps loudly, basically hyping up this random boy at the convenience store. You watch the interaction with a silly smile on your face. “And you’re still young, wouldn’t be surprised to see you at World’s someday.”

The boy shakes his head dismissively as Minho hands him his card, but smiles nonetheless. Once he hands you your things, he speaks again, “Are you from around here, hyung? Let me know when you have a game out, I’d love to try it. See if you’re any good.”

Minho raises his brows at the obvious teasing lilt in his voice, lips upturning into a grin. “How about this? I’ll give you the beta code and you can start your career of testing games for money.”

“You’ll pay me?” The cashier marvels at the words, and Minho simply nods. He jots down a code from his phone into a scrap piece of paper on the counter, the boy’s face now a complete shift from the expression he wore when you first walked in, all because of Minho and his ability to be kind and sweet no matter the person or circumstance.

As you head back to his house, only the two of walk along the shy streets as the clock hands turn past midnight. Among all the bad people in this world, you’re indescribably happy that a man as good as him is the one walking beside you down this street, firmly holding your hand.

You arrive home and quietly head straight into Minho’s room. You thank any higher power that might exist for the fact that his room is the only one on the first floor, as you would have to endure your desperate need and desire for him until you got home if it wasn’t. Any of Minho’s family members walking in or hearing you two have sex would make you want to flee the country and change your name.

He joins you after storing your puddings in the fridge, making you jump with his arms wrapped around your waist while you were blankly staring at the pictures on his wall. You sigh, the realization of what was going to happen only really dawning on you now that you stand in Minho’s bedroom, and your mind starts to wander and doubt everything all over again.

“I kind of ruined the mood by asking to have sex, didn’t I?” You ask as Minho places a chaste kiss on your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder.

“There was really no mood in the first place,” he lets out a breathy chuckle. “We were washing the dishes.”

You roll your eyes, once again more annoyed at yourself than at him. You could only hope that your awful propensity of bringing up these irritating thoughts of yours at the worst possible moments didn’t drive Minho away from you. Could only hope you were worth it in the end.

“I know, it’s just…” You trail off with another heavy sigh. “This guy I dated hated that. Said I should just initiate it instead of asking like it was a business transaction.”

You feel Minho shake his head. “That’s stupid. Why would I think that?” He sounds incredulous, and hearing him say it makes you realize just how asinine that thought really was. “We had to buy condoms, anyway. It’s also good that you’re comfortable asking me that. It’s as it should be.”

And you can only smile, biting back a giggle because of course he thinks that. It’s as if Jane Austen came back from the dead simply to write Lee Minho.

His arms tighten around your waist, and you turn your head to look at him. “You should really stop thinking about… them,” He hesitates, “Your exes, I mean. Stop comparing, assuming everything will be the same and have the same sad ending. You need to let go of that in order to truly heal. I hate how every time I’m good to you, or do the bare fucking minimum, your mind spins it into something being your fault. I hate what they did to you so much.”

You feel your breath get caught in your throat, tears threatening to spill much like they do every time you are faced with this topic. But you hold them in. You don’t want to cry, not right now, not when everything is so perfect with Minho. So, instead, you take in his words. He’s undoubtedly right, and you must force yourself to face this uncomfortable truth.

Slowly, you promise yourself. You smile at him, a silent promise to him, and you know he understands you when he smiles back, his lips pressing a kiss to your lips.

He lets go of you and rummages through his drawers, and you look around once more. His plushie mountain, the pictures of his childhood and high school days. You scrunch up your nose.

“Will it be too weird to have sex in your childhood bedroom?”

From where you’re standing, his back turned to you, you can faintly make out the tip of his ears turning red as he runs a finger through his hair.

“Well, not really…” He trails off, “I had sex with my ex-girlfriend here all the time when we skipped school together.”

You let out a gasp. “Lee Minho skipped school?”

He chuckles, closing his drawers and immediately wrapping his arms around you. He’s a lot more touchy since you brought this whole topic up, you notice.

“My parents were always at work, though, so this is my first time doing it while they’re right upstairs,” He explains, bringing his finger up to your lips and lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. “So we’ll have to be quiet.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, nodding. You know all too well you’ll probably be too quiet. Once again your trauma playing a part in this, the words an old boyfriend harshly spilled about you being too loud and vocal have always been present in your head. Now that you think about it, all these moments and words are like post-it notes stuck to your mind, and you skim through like a student cramming for an exam every day in search of one that applies to your current situation. It was excruciating.

Hyunjin tried his best to change this about you, always assuring you he liked to hear you during sex when he noticed your pursed and bitten lips, and that you should be vocal about what you want and like. But you always settled for nods and quiet hums instead.

Minho presses a quick kiss on your forehead then. “I’m gonna shower ‘cause my hands still smell like onions and garlic after washing them a thousand times,” he tells you. “I’ll be right back.”

As you’re busying yourself looking through Minho’s extensive collection of books, a meow pulls your attention toward the door. It’s Dori, the gray cat you’ve decided is your favorite since it’s the only one you can easily recognize. He stares for a beat before approaching you, and you kneel carefully to stroke his soft fur. You soon find yourself sitting down by the bed with Dori on your lap, purring away as your mind travels to a future in which you and Minho adopt cats of your own, all while living together and making plans for the rest of your lives. It terrifies you slightly to allow yourself to have these thoughts because if things were to go wrong with Minho, this would only be another ‘what if’ that would haunt you.

Another post-it note to your already cluttered-up mind.

But his words from earlier come back to you just as you begin to panic. You have to let go of the past and stop assuming only the worst outcomes are attainable. And so you simply smile at the imagination, letting your mind run wild while Dori falls asleep on your lap, his gray fur all over your red dress.

You and Dori both jump as Minho all but slams the door when he returns, a towel in his hand drying his damp hair. He cringes at the sound, cursing under his breath. Dori leaves your lap, and you stand up with a pout. He definitely is your favorite cat among the three.

“Sorry,” Minho whispers, as if that will compensate for the loud noise. You take in his appearance; a green Christmas sweater and bright red sweatpants. You bite back a smile, because that’s so him.

“Your outfit is doing a great job of seducing me,” you jest, and he shrugs with a cocky grin.

“I know no woman can resist a Christmas sweater.”

He pulls you into him with a hand around your waist, his lips crashing into yours in a deep kiss. You notice he’s more frantic, less careful than he usually is, his fingers digging into the fabric of your dress as his hands slide up your back. He pulls away, breathless and flushed, and just looks at you for a moment. You can see the shift in his eyes, yearning swimming all over his brown orbs.

Clumsily, he shuts off the lights behind him then switches on the fairy lights adorning his bookshelf, his left hand still firmly clutching your body. Until it suddenly loosens, and you cock your head to the side.

“Okay, you gotta leave,” he says, and you follow his gaze, landing on Dori, who stares up at him almost defiantly. Minho lets out a sigh, opening his door before walking toward the cat and motioning toward the exit as if he will understand him. “Come on, I’ll give you treats later, hm? But you need to leave now, Dori.”

You fail to hold back a chuckle. “Why does the poor baby have to leave? He looks so comfortable snuggled up on the floor.”

“I can’t have sex while Dori watches,” he deadpans as if it were an obvious answer. “It’ll be weird.”

“Minho, it’s a cat. He doesn’t know what’s going on.”

“It’s still weird! And I…” He trails off, running a hand through his hair. He’s still facing the door when he blurts out, “I told you, I’m already really fucking nervous ‘cause it’s been a while since I’ve had sex. I might not be the best.”

You shake your head with a smile, crossing your arms over your chest. “Minho, that’s not possible.”

“Yes, it is!” He finally turns to face you. “Remember back in Japan? I came too fast, it was embarrassing. That’s why I never let you touch me.”

You jokingly pout at him. “Thought you just liked eating me out.”

“I fucking love eating you out, but I’m not exactly refusing that you do the same because I want to,” he explains, “I’m just scared I’ll be bad at it.”

You furrow your brows. “Bad at… getting a blowjob?”

Minho’s ears are dusted a light pink, and he throws his hands up. “Well, yes! Back in Japan I didn’t even know what to do with my hands. I don’t know what you like, and I haven’t been with anyone else to know what most people like so…” He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Fuck, I was so nervous that night, you have no idea.”

“You were nervous?” You let out a huff, recalling Minho’s clear shift in demeanor that night. “Looking into my eyes the entire time and pinning me down to the bed, that’s you being nervous?”

His entire face now flushes red, and he returns his gaze toward the door, where Dori paddles out of the room graciously. He promptly shuts the door, locking it this time.

“I was nervous,” He tells you, taking a step toward you. “I kept looking at you ‘cause I couldn’t believe that was actually happening. Felt like you were gonna disappear if I looked away,” His hands cup your face gently, and your lips unknowingly curl into a smile. “And when you looked at me in the morning, all I could think about was how awful I was the night before.”

You have to fight the strong urge to laugh because god, that’s why he was acting shy and avoiding your gaze. You berate yourself for even thinking otherwise, for ever assuming Minho could be like your ex-boyfriends. His words ring even more true than before.

You let out a groan, realizing you two have been putting off having sex for such mindless reasons. When he shoots you a questioning gaze, you simply say, “Minho, we’re both fucking idiots, d’you know that?”

And before he can say anything else or even entertain the idea of overthinking any more, you pull him into a kiss. With a surprised hum, Minho gently pushes you back, and your knees meet the softness of the mattress causing you to fall back into his bed. He climbs on top of you, pulling away from the kiss.

“You still gotta tell me what you like,” he repeats, his lips all but pouting at you. You smile up at him.

“No,” you say simply, pushing his hair back with your fingers as it fell into his eyes. “It’s better if we figure that out together, isn’t it?”

Minho chuckles, promptly pressing his lips to yours, your hand tugging at his hair gently as his tongue glides across your lips, causing a soft whine to slip from your throat before you can stop it.

“I like that,” he says between kisses, “When you make these pretty noises.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at his words and take that as your chance to take the first small step in healing, adding a post-it to your mind, reminding you not to suppress any noise that Minho coaxes out of you tonight.

The atmosphere in his room feels perfect — like heaven, as he would say. The soft yellow glow emanating from his bookshelf made everything seem dreamy; his honey skin looked stunning, and his eyes gleamed like the stars in the sky every time they met yours.

It was undoubtedly so much more intimate and passionate than any other time you had sex before, and you were both still fully clothed.

It was just like what Minho had told you many months ago.

His hands travel through your body until they rest on your back, finding the buttons of your dress, slowly opening each one as his lips trail down your neck, softly sucking on the skin. As he gingerly slides your dress down your torso, you realize that this will be the first time you two see each other naked. Yet, you don’t feel nervous. You want nothing more than to be close to him, with no barriers between you, to finally be tangled with him like the roots on the ground.

Minho unclasps your bra, his gaze unmoving from your chest as he slips the garment off of your skin and drops it on the floor. It’s almost as if you can feel his gaze burning you, your chest tightening and your breath hitching in your throat. He licks his lips, leaning down to wrap them around your nipple, his hand promptly finding your other breast and softly massaging it. You let out a choked gasp, tugging at his hair.

You feel his lips stretch into a smile before he softly bites the bud.

“So you like this,” He mumbles, pressing a wet kiss to your nipple. “Duly noted.”

You giggle at his words, your hands tangling in his hair once more. His kisses travel up again, from your chest to your neck, until he’s back to kissing your lips. Both of his hands now massage your breasts, alternating between rolling your nipples between his rough fingers and pinching them lightly, causing a rush to spread across your entire body. You feel your arousal trickle down your slit as you grow more desperate.

“Minho,” you call out between kisses, and he hums against your lips. “Do something,” you all but beg him, yearning for some release as you feel the small, unrelenting pulse between your thighs grow stronger with each stroke of his finger across your chest. Your hands now grasp at his sweater, tugging it over his head, the fabric also discarded somewhere on the floor of his room.

Your hands travel over the expanse of his chest, fingertips taking in every inch of his soft skin. Breaking away from his lips, you push him back softly so you can revel in the sight of him; his delicate collar bones, his strong arms, and soft stomach. He’s beautiful, breathtakingly so, and you don’t know what you did to be deserving of him.

“Enjoying the view?” He jokes, and you breathe out a laugh, your gaze flying up toward his face — his lips swollen, and his cheeks flushed a pretty red.

“Minho, you’re so beautiful,” you whisper absentmindedly, and he smiles at you, softly pressing his lips to yours.

“You should see how you look,” he whispers.

His left hand soon slips underneath your dress skirt, fingertips grazing your skin over your tights. You feel goosebumps trickle along your thighs following his every touch, so eager to feel his hands on your skin you’re sure you’ll rip your tights in half yourself if Minho doesn’t get rid of them soon.

He seems to grow as impatient as you, lifting your hips with a strong grip to slide down your dress, tights, and panties off of you all in one go. In no time, you are now laid bare before him, and Minho is swift to trail kisses down your stomach, sloppy and messy, painting your skin with his saliva as his mouth waters at the mere prospect of tasting you.

With a heavy sigh, he stares at your glistening wetness before promptly wrapping his lips around your clit without a warning and sucking, ardently, vulgar sounds filling his small room much like they do every time he eats you out. Always messy, always eager, humming against your pussy and sighing as his eyes glaze over with pure want.

You squirm like lighting has shocked through your entire body. No matter how often you experience the satisfaction of Minho’s lips on you, it always leaves you trembling like it’s the first time. His right hand slides up the expanse of your stomach until it reaches your breast again, his thumb lazily circling your nipple. You purse your lips as his fingers tentatively trail across your folds, spreading your wetness up to your clit before lapping at it slowly, the small bud swollen and aching.

You’re quick to remember to open your mouth, letting out the heavy sigh that had stuck to your throat as his finger enters you, Minho still licking and sucking your sensitive clit, nipping harshly and making your sigh fade into a whine. Hand tangling in his hair and tugging, you elicit a low groan from his throat, which you feel reverberate through your slick folds.

Your thighs shake as he adds a second finger, and soon a third, thrusting them inside of you and stroking your walls more vigorously than he usually does, as if he somehow also feels your pleasure and needs to lead you to your high as quickly as possible.

Minho’s hand leaves your chest, and you bite back a pout, his fingers now gripping your hips before pushing them up so he can reach deeper. It isn’t long before his fingers drag across the spot inside of you that has your muscles tensing up, a strangled moan falling from your lips at the sensations coupled with the unrelenting feeling of his tongue on your clit. You come undone around his fingers and lips with a harsh tug of his black hair, rutting your hips against his face desperately, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as you do.

He laps up your juices as you slowly come down from your high, tongue flicking inside of you and sucking hard before he presses a long kiss to your cunt. Your entire body jerks in response to the overstimulation.

His kisses travel toward your inner thigh, your lower stomach and breasts until he reaches your neck, where his teeth nip at the soft skin, sucking harshly before his tongue soothingly licks at the spot. As Minho positions himself between your thighs again, you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Your mind goes hazy for a beat as you feel the thick outline of his cock press against your bare core.

“Minho,” you call out again, your voice significantly more whiny this time around, shaky and breathless, “Wanna taste you.”

He groans against your skin, pressing small kisses up your neck until he ultimately stops against your open lips. He breathes out a heavy sigh.

“Really want that, too,” he rasps out, voice hoarse as his dark eyes travel across your face. “But I really wanna fuck you. Shit, I need to fuck you so badly you have no idea,” He groans. You feel his length jump at his words as he presses your foreheads together and locks his gaze with you. “That’ll be hard to do if your pretty lips go anywhere near my cock.”

You breathe out a chuckle, pressing a small kiss to his lips. “Then get to it,” you simply say.

Minho’s lips curl into a grin. “Will you remember to be quiet for me this time? My baby sounded so pretty coming around my fingers.”

Your cheeks flush, just how loud you were before only now dawning on you. Fuck. Your words get stuck to your throat, your mouth opening but making no sound, so you settle for a nod.

He chuckles. “Good,” he replies with a kiss to your agape lips.

Minho sits up, detangling himself from your body briefly. He reaches for the box on his bedside table, scrambling with the cardboard before clumsily tearing it open and retrieving a condom. It’s only then you notice how his hands are trembling, from nervousness or pure lust. Either way, you find yourself smiling at the sight.

You reach out to run a hand along his arm soothingly, watching with hungry eyes as he tugs at his drawstrings before freeing his cock from the confines of his sweatpants. Minho hisses as he rolls the rubber over his length, shaky hands stroking himself one, two, three times, all while you eye him, watching greedily as if you were his own personal captive audience.

He lowers himself once again, hand now sliding across the length of your thigh before gripping the flesh, nails digging into your skin as he eyes you with an almost pleading gaze.

“Can I—”

“Please do,” you answer, almost frantically, before he even has the time to assume you might say no. You inch your thighs apart even more so Minho can slot himself perfectly between them.

Your mouth waters as you catch sight of him gripping his cock once more, tapping it against your swollen clit and eliciting a whine from your lips as your hands scramble to find purchase in his strong arms. Minho’s eyes then find yours much like they did back in Japan, and you know you are done for. His dark gaze once again felt all-consuming — desire and adoration swimming along his brown eyes, looking at you as if he were in a daze. Your grip on his arms tightens as he lazily slides his cock up and down your soaked slit, coating himself in your arousal. Minho’s lips fall open as he continues his movements, the blunt head of his cock gliding along your folds almost painfully slow.

He leans in to close the small gap between your lips, before whispering something you can’t quite understand against them.

“I fucking love you,” he repeats himself more clearly, and finally pushes forward, his girth pushing into you as you gasp, feeling as if all the air has been stolen from you.

You aren’t sure if your reaction is due to his words, or the way his cock is working you open so good, or maybe it was a delicious blend of the two. All you know at the moment is Minho, Minho, Minho, your mind foggy as his name rings inside your head like a mantra.

“Don’t gotta say anything back,” he tells you in a breathy voice, “Just want you to know I love— Fuck,” he groans as he is now fully sheathed inside of you, and you clench at both the feeling and the words spilling from his lips. Of course he would choose now to tell you he loved you. “Love you so much, so much I’d do anything for you. Would wage a war with the world if you asked me to…” He babbles, words slipping past his lips like they were the easiest thing for him to say. Like he meant it so deeply, he didn’t have to put any thought into it. His words only die as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your lips.

Minho pulls his hips back in one swift motion, hands lifting your thighs around his body as he thrusts into you, evoking a rather loud noise from the back of your throat which is smothered by his kiss.

“You take me so well,” he growls against your lips, “We fit perfectly.” He breaks the kiss to look down at where your two bodies are connected. It felt as if you were one, melting into each other little by little the more Minho thrust his cock inside of you. You simply nod, mind even more dizzy with the way he’s already pulling out again before slamming back into you, his pace quickening as he presses you into the mattress.

Your nails dig into his skin, crescent moon shapes blooming over the expanse of his honey skin. His eyes still bore into you, hips now thrusting at an unrelenting pace, his small room filled with a cacophony of wet sounds, whines tumbling from your parted lips and curses that almost silently fell from his.

“Gonna come soon,” Minho chokes out, his eyebrows furrowing, “I’m sorry, I—”

You silence him with a press of your lips, hands now tangling in his messy hair.

“You’re always so good to me,” you tell him, feeling his cock pulse inside of your walls. “Wanna be good to you too, make you feel good.”

And he simply leans down before kissing you reverently. The sound of his skin slapping against yours mixed with the creaking of his bed likely much too loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. At least not at the moment. Not with the way his hand snakes along your hips, rough fingers now rolling delicious circles around your clit while his other palm presses down onto your abdomen, and his cock continuously hits a spot inside of you that has you all but crumbling apart underneath him.

Your mouth falls open, breaking the kiss, his cock twitching inside of you as his body stills on top of you. With furrowed brows and agape lips, Minho comes mere seconds before you reach your high as well, toes curling against his back as you melt onto his cock.

You stay that way for a while — a few seconds, maybe minutes — simply looking at each other as your labored breaths intertwine.

You finally reach up, brushing his dampened hair away from his beautiful eyes that now look at you as if you were the sole reason why the stars sparkle. Minho’s fingers soon find yours, tangling together as he brings your hands to his lips and presses a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

You smile.

You love him.

It’s not a realization but rather a confirmation of something you’ve already known all too well and for far too long. You still can’t put it into words, but somehow, you are certain that he knows just as well.

Minho accidentally awoke you in the morning with his habit of slamming his door shut, apologizing as you grumbled at him and insisted you would only accept his apology if he let you give him a blowjob. He laughed, simply pulling you closer to him on the bed as he sat up and you finally gave the most beautiful man you had ever met the head he deserved.

Minho’s parents and grandmother had left to eat at a fancy restaurant, and after lying through his teeth and telling his very distraught mother that you were feeling too sick to leave the bed, you two stayed behind. They didn’t have to know the real reason you couldn’t leave the bed — Minho and his apparent insatiable hunger for you. It was as if something had been awoken inside him now that he had a taste of you, and he had to make up for all the lost time.

You two only leave his room late in the afternoon, the sun setting on the pale winter sky outside his bedroom window. His family would arrive soon, and you needed to get ready for their tradition of opening Christmas presents while watching bad holiday movies.

When Minho followed you when you headed toward the bathroom, you thought little of it. It was only when he began undressing alongside you that panic truly set in.

“We literally had sex, why do you sound so horrified?” Was all he offered you when you asked what he was doing before entering the steamy shower with you.

It was your first time showering with someone, and the fact that it made you so nervous felt almost pathetic. Minho was right; you had sex, and you saw each other naked and sweaty and vulnerable. This shouldn’t be any different.

Except it was.

You found yourself too awkward to wash yourself, doing a terrible job at pretending to scrub at your arms as you watched Minho shower like a normal person. He let out a chuckle after rinsing his hair, shaking his head.

“Are you seriously shy? Seriously?” He asked, turning your body around so your back faced him. “The girl who begged to suck my cock just this morning is too shy to shower in front of me?”

You opened your lips to refute him, but your words died in your mouth as you felt Minho’s hand spread shampoo all over your hair. His fingers gently massaged your scalp before placing his hand over your eyes to shield them from the foam as he rinsed your hair. He repeated the process with conditioner, then moved on to wash your body with his almost sickly sweet watermelon body wash. He did it all while humming, making you so relaxed and comfortable that all your silly insecurities dissipated in the air along with the steam from the hot water.

Suffice to say, showering without Minho would now be a sad affair.

You are now sitting on the floor before the television, his family exchanging gifts. Dori purred on your lap, and Soonie bit Minho’s socks, trying his best to remove the fabric from his feet. It’s finally time for you two to exchange gifts, and you’re a bit glad his family seemed to be so immersed in the movie because you know you would combust if you had to explain your gift to them.

“Here,” you hand him an orange box with a black bow. “It’s stupid. Now that I think about it, it’s probably such a fucking dumb gift. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and Eunha even made one for her sister. I almost stole hers ‘cause it turned out much better than mine—”

“My god,” Minho interrupts you with a hearty laugh, taking the box in his hands and inspecting it. “It’s been a while since you word vomited so much. What the hell did you get me that made you so nervous?”

He pulls on the bow, unraveling it before taking the black fabric in his hands and tying it around your head. He laughs once more, and you roll your eyes.

“Minho, just get to it before I snatch this box from you.”

With one last chuckle, he finally opens the box. He stills as he takes in the notebook, sitting on top of far too much wrapping tissue paper. The cat print cardstock paper was a pain to find, but it’s worth it now as you watch Minho’s lips curl into a smile as his fingers gingerly travel through the cover. It was crooked, a bit too small, and still reeked of bookbinding glue, but it reminds you of the day you met Minho, and that was all you thought about when you decided on this gift.

“You fucking bound me a notebook,” he says, still bewildered.

“Took me a while, but I did say I was gonna do it. I’m a woman of my word.”

Minho looks up at you, his smile reaching his eyes and turning them into the pretty crescent moons you love so much. “I love it,” he beams, hands now squeezing your cheeks as he pulls you into a small kiss. “This and that coffee stained notebook are going on my bookshelf back in my dorm, displayed in all their glory.”

Minho pulls away and reaches toward two small boxes on the coffee table. He clears his throat, handing you one box as he settles the other on his lap.

“I thought of you when I saw this on my Instagram feed,” he simply says, fingers toying with the misshaped bow on top of the box — one very similar to the one on your birthday gift many months ago. “Thought about what we talked about in Japan, y’know, about soulmates.”

You raise a brow at him, quickly undoing the bow on your box as curiosity washes over you. You pick up a bracelet made only of red thread, eyeing it curiously.

Minho retrieves the same bracelet from his own box, putting it on before asking, “Have you heard of the red string of fate?”

“That myth that a thread connects two people meant to be together?” You question.

He nods. “Exactly. I feel like that was us,” He explains, taking the red bracelet from your hands and slipping it around your wrist before gently tightening the thread. “Feel like all our little coincidences were little threads tying us together until we met.”

You feel the tears well up in your eyes, but you don’t bother trying to hide or stop them this time. Grabbing Minho’s hand that stilled around your wrist, you lace your fingers together, admiring your matching bracelets. It could only be fate. Every small detail that aligned and every road you two crossed to reach the place where you are now could only have come to be because fate wanted it to be that way.

Out of every city you could have lived in, every different university you could have chosen to attend, down to every other seat that could have been empty on the day you met Minho — everything fell into place like a puzzle piece, exactly as if a long, invisible string tied you to him and finally decided it was time to pull you together.

Minho’s gentle touch brushes against your cheek as he silently wipes your tears — no words are needed between you two at that moment as he smiles softly at you while you feel your eyes burn from the cry you had held back for so long. And, as if you’re his mirror, you feel yourself smile as his lips upturn into a grin when his gaze shifts to the open window.

“It’s snowing,” he beams. “It’s the first snow of the year, and our first snow together.”

 

You stand in front of Minho’s house, the light snow falling softly and covering your heads in white as he kisses you, only stopping to grumble against your lips.

“Your phone’s going crazy in my pocket,” He pouts, and you furrow your brows. You had already sent your family holiday messages, and your friends were all busy with their own Christmas celebrations, so you were clueless about who it could be.

“Can you check it for me?”

Minho nods, untangling himself from your embrace just enough to reach into his pocket and grab your phone to unlock it.

“There’s like fifty new messages from a group chat. Best Fucking Five?” He chuckles lightly at the name, his chilly breath tickling your cheek.

You, on the other hand, immediately frowned as you heard the name. It’s a long-forgotten group chat with your old friend group from high school. You had all stopped talking a little before graduation, with you especially distancing yourself from them upon realizing their toxic words and reactions to your relationships only served to make you feel worse about yourself. No one bothered to leave or delete the group since it quietly died and had stayed that way for over three years now.

Minho hands you the phone, and you click another notification that pops up as soon as you unlock the device.

The conversation began with your former friend sending a screenshot of one of your ex-boyfriend’s newest Instagram post. You skim through the caption and blanch at the words accompanied by a sonogram picture. His girlfriend is pregnant, and he’s over the moon about it.

And you, for some reason, find yourself laughing so much you have to clutch onto Minho’s shoulder as your stomach starts to hurt.

He shoots you an understandably puzzled look, but you can’t stop the giggles that spill from your lips, so you settle on showing him the screenshot. 

“I got the best Christmas gift tonight,” Minho reads from the screen. “I'm going to be a dad, and the most wonderful woman I’ve ever known is the mother,” he trails off with a questioning lilt, brows furrowing as that had only confused him more.

“It’s one of my exes,” you manage to tell him after catching your breath.

Minho hums, taking your hands and shoving them in his overcoat pocket along with your phone.

“And why did that make you lose your mind laughing?” He asks with a small smile.

“I guess it was the shock, really. It also made me realize just how little I care about him now. All of them, actually. Every time I was broken up with or had my heart broken in some way, it honestly felt like the end of the world,” you explain, “Like my heart would never recover and like I would hate them for the rest of my life. For years I had such a strong ax to grind with them, and that hatred and grudge only caused me harm. It made me hate love, and it made me blame myself.”

Minho nods, pressing his forehead to yours. Around you two, the snow got thicker, and only the distant sounds of children laughing from neighboring houses could be heard throughout the quiet street.

“But it’s different now?”

You smile up at him. “It’s different now, and I only just realized that. These people are no longer people I hate. They’re simply their words and their actions toward me, but they, as people, mean nothing to me.”

Minho smiles and wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. This realization makes you feel lighter, like a small part of the weight of healing has been removed from the equation. It’s only you and yourself now; none of them has any power over your emotions anymore.

“Maybe we should send the baby a present,” you joke, and Minho buries his head in the crook of your neck with a chuckle, and you jump as his cold nose brushes against your skin.

“Maybe we should.”

At that moment, in the arms of this amazing man who has helped you more than he will ever know, you realize that love truly isn’t bad. People can be bad, circumstances can be catastrophic, and wrong timing can destroy nearly everything. But love is, at the core of it all, good.

“Minho,” you call out, feeling him hum against your skin before lifting his head to look at you. “I love you,” you say simply.

His smile rivals every pretty thing around you. The first snow, the gleaming Christmas decorations, and even the moon herself pale in comparison to the smile that Minho gives you.

“I love you, too,” he replies, a tangible sense of bliss in his voice, as if he has yearned for a lifetime to finally be able to say those words to you.

You wrap your arms tighter around Minho, and your fingers brush against the red thread that adorns your wrist. It truly feels as if fate had led you to Minho, leaving little clues along the way to make sure you both knew when you finally met. His journey to you had been relatively easy, while yours had been heart-wrenching, but in the end, it had brought you heaven.

If soulmates really are a thing, there is not an ounce of doubt in your being that Minho is yours. More than anything, he taught you that love is present in everything around you. Love is being kind to others like Minho is kind to his family and strangers in convenience stores at midnight. Love is staying up with your best friend while she cries on the couch, not expecting anything in return. Love is the laughter of little kids on Christmas night echoing throughout a neighborhood. Love is also going out on your own, doing something simply because it will make you happy, and being kind to yourself. All this time, you held onto the belief that love is destructive and only leads to sadness, oblivious to the fact that it has surrounded you every step of the way.

Love is everywhere and in everything.

In the end, Minho had always been right.

Love is the most amazing thing in life.

♡ taglist: @notevenheretbh1, @malunar28replies, @jazziwritesthings, @finchyyy, @bloom-ings, @linocz, @minhochaos, @lastgreatamericandynasty1, @missminhoe, @jungkookies1002, @meanergreener

[blackknight-kai]

We need an S/O who’s just an enabler for Wukong; like someone who’s totally ride or die.

Oh we’re going to heckle the locals yaoguai? They’re down.

Beat up whoever we please? Yessir.

Be the celestials’ biggest pain in the ass? Hell yea.

[But there’s also that sweet potential angst there, your husband/best friend reincarnates to this totally different guy and you have no clue what to do with yourself.]

Yes, I love this! I’d be that person LOL. Like “oh you wanna go beat the shit out of some people? Cool get after it dude! Fuck ‘em up!”

But for real, I think Wukong having that would be amazing, not for everyone else of course but for him? Great. He’d be living his best life and his ego would be HUUUUUUUGE. This chaotic asshole would love having a partner in crime/someone to support him in his mischievous endeavors.

He’d be so happy too. Coming home after doing whatever it is and excitedly telling you all about it. He’d strut around preening like a peacock. At no point would he ever feel like he was without or that he was lacking in his relationship. If people try to bring him down? Yeah not gonna work because you had his back and he trusts you.

Seeing him so happy and confident would be the highlight of your day. He’s just so LOUD. You could never ignore him. You love your monkey way too much!

So when you see his reincarnation be the total opposite of everything he normally is really screws with your head. Sure he looks like Wukong, fights like him, and is goal oriented like him.

But hes quiet. Genuinely doesnt speak which is a huge contrast to the mouthy Great Sage you knew. Reserved. Hyper Focused. And honestly very closed off.

A bit cold too. You’d been so used to Wukongs warm loving self that this is just…difficult.

Destined One is hard to read. You dont see anything of the Wukong you knew in him for the longest time. It hurts. At first you wonder if you should just….part from him. Go your separate way and let him go on his path. It doesnt sit right with you though to do that. As painful as it is to be near someone who reminds you of the lover you’d lost so long ago. But you are determined to help him and determined to be there for him. Ride or die for life right?

One thing you realize though after spending time with him is that yeah, hes different but also, not that different. He’s still cheeky in his own way and mischievous. Just a bit more subtle about it. Clever. As you get to know him and he learns to trust you he starts showing his true colors. Cracks grins and smirks, the first time you caught his lip twitching you thought you were hallucinating. His tail swishes and flicks with his amusement and you can gauge his mood by how deep the frown on his face or how tense his shoulders and tail are. He plays familiar pranks, sometimes with new twists on them. Being a prankster definitely is in his genetics.

Instead of talking he uses grunts and sounds, you learn what each means over time. His eyes also speak volumes now that you’ve grown to know him. They always reveal his true feelings and damn do they always look at you with that familiar warmth you’d come to associate with Wukong. As he gains more power he also gains confidence. His walk had always shown confidence but now he moves with a surety that starts to match Wukongs. He’s coming into himself and you find yourself becoming just as enamored with him the more you learn about him. The day he gives you a handsome smile is a day you will remember because your heart skipped several beats.

You grow closer with him and realize just how similar he and Wukong are, the difference is that Wukong had many years on this monkey to build himself up. It’s only a matter of time for the Destined One to do the same. He even enjoys being close to you and often finds reasons to be near you/touching you. His tail is wrapped around you sometimes in that familiar way Wukong used to do, it makes your heart full and also ache. Sometimes he just does things, acts certain ways that are so reminiscent of Wukong. While other times he does something completely different and new. It keeps you guessing.

When he speaks for the first time it about knocks you over. His voice is the same……your chest pinches hard both with happiness and sadness because damn did you miss his voice. But also, you’re falling in love with the way HE now talks.

You dont push for more from him, unsure for the first time in your life. Because should you? What if he really IS someone totally different but has similar traits? What if he just needs to grow into ‘Wukong’ more? What if hes the same but doesnt feel the same for you?

So many questions run through your head.

But one thing is certain, be it Wukong or Destined One you will support the ever living shit out of whatever he wants to do. Regardless of where your ‘relationship’ stands because you love ‘them’ equally.

And when he finally regains Wukongs memories?

Well…..I’ll leave that brain nugget up to you reader 😊

[solarmorrigan]

Romance, Commitment, and Cake

For the @steddie-spooktober day 15 prompt: Baking Rated: T | Words: 733 | CW: None | Tags: established relationship, modern AU, Steve Harrington can cook, or bake at least, Eddie Munson loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington loves Eddie Munson, fluff Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie has always loved fall. He loves the way the world turns colors as the leaves begin to change, he loves how it gets cooler and he can wear his layers of jackets without feeling like he wants to die, he loves all the poetic themes of death and change, he loves Halloween. In more recent years, however, he’s learned to love fall because that’s when Steve starts baking like a man possessed, and doesn’t stop until the new year.

He doesn’t bother holding in the moan that wants to work its way out at the first bite of the pumpkin cheesecake Steve has presented him with. It’s perfect; creamy and light, the sweet and the spice blending and melting on his tongue. Eddie thinks he might actually need a moment alone with the cheesecake.

“Good?” Steve asks with a knowing little grin as he washes bowls in the sink.

“Marry me,” Eddie groans the moment he’s swallowed his mouthful.

Steve snorts out a little laugh. “We’re already married,” he reminds Eddie, holding up his sudsy left hand to show off the gold wedding band glinting there.

“This time it would be different,” Eddie says, taking a moment to get in another bite of cheesecake. “Last time I married you because you’re sweet, and you’re sharp, and you’re funny, and you’re beautiful, and because I love you. This time I’d be marrying you for your baking.”

“Man, don’t be shy, tell it to me like it is,” Steve says drily, but there’s a pleased, pink flush high on his cheeks.

“Just being honest with you, baby,” Eddie says with a grin before tucking back into his slice of cake.

“You know,” Steve says slowly, eyes trained on the dishes in the sink, “our anniversary is coming up. Five years.”

“Mhm?” Eddie hums around another mouthful.

“We can’t get married again, but we could… renew our vows, maybe.” There’s such a studied nonchalance to the suggestion that Eddie wonders if Steve hadn’t already been thinking about it.

And it’s a little funny that the idea of holding another ceremony, of putting on a suit and standing up and pouring his heart out in front of a group of people, of spending the day trading pleasantries and pretending to be at least halfway civil only produces happy little butterflies instead of the disdain it once would have.

Eddie had never gone in for romantic conformity, never thought marriage as a social convention was worth shit. He’d scorned the idea of perfect little white weddings, of the elitism and the privilege and the inherent heteronormativity. Marriage was a trumped-up gimmick made to sell needlessly expensive things to gullible couples with more money than sense.

And then he’d met Steve.

Steve, who had rocked the foundation of Eddie’s way of looking at the world; Steve, who Eddie loves more than anything; Steve, who loves romance, even if he won’t say as much out loud; Steve, who Eddie had proposed to, because he’d wanted to claim him and show him off to the world in as many ways as possible, wanted everyone to know that no matter which way they look at it that Steve is with him.

“It doesn’t have to be a big thing,” Steve says when Eddie’s been quiet a moment too long. “We could just have a small party; family and friends.” He gives Eddie a sidelong glance. “I could make a cake.”

“A cake, huh?” Eddie asks, biting down on a sly smile as he puts his empty plate down on the counter and sidles up to Steve at the sink. “What kind of cake?”

“Any kind of cake you want,” Steve says, looking back up at Eddie with eyes dancing with amusement. “You’re marrying me for my baking, after all. Only seems right you should choose.”

Eddie hums, moving around behind Steve and wrapping his arms around his waist. “You’ve convinced me, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss to the crook of Steve’s neck. “Let’s do it.”

“Yeah?” Steve cranes his head around to look at Eddie, showing off the luminous smile lighting his face.

“Yeah, baby,” Eddie says, leaning into Steve a little further. “Lemme tell everyone how much I love you all over again.”

The way Steve practically melts against Eddie is worth all the pomp and ceremony in the world, Eddie thinks.

(But the promise of cake doesn’t hurt.)

[steddieas-shegoes]

forgiving is easy

for @steddielovemonth prompt “love is an endless act of forgiveness’

A HUGE thank you to @sidekick-hero for putting this event together! This was so much fun and it kept me writing even when I wasn’t sure I’d be able to ♥️

rated t | 617 words | tags: established relationship, doubts about relationship, they’re so soft, so in love, fluff

🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

Eddie looked down at the broken picture frame. El made it for Steve as a birthday gift last year and it held a picture of all of them at the kids’ graduation. Steve cherished it more than just about any other possession he had.

And Eddie broke it because he was rushing to try to clean up when Steve called to tell him he was on his way home early.

He’d agreed to clean up the living room and kitchen since they were hosting Will and his new boyfriend this weekend, and he’d just…forgotten.

And now the picture frame was broken.

Steve would hate him. He’d break up with him and scream at him about how he’s so forgetful and this never would’ve happened if he just took his time.

The front door clicked open and Steve’s voice rang out.

“Hey Eds!” The door closed and the jingle of keys being hung on the hook filled the entire lower level of the home. “Where are you?”

“In here,” Eddie’s voice wasn’t loud, but he knew Steve would hear him.

Footsteps came from the hall to the living room and then stopped right behind Eddie.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“I-“ Eddie turned around and held the four biggest pieces of the frame in his hand. “I broke it.”

Steve’s eyes widened and then closed for a second. He stepped closer to Eddie and took the pieces from his hands.

He pulled Eddie’s hands forward, kissed his knuckles, and set them against his chest.

“Are you okay?”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. “I broke your favorite picture frame.”

“I see that, honey. Did anything hurt you? Glass or any of the ceramic?”

Eddie was dumbfounded. Didn’t Steve want to yell at him?

“No. But aren’t you mad?”

“I mean I’m upset it’s broken, but the picture can just go in another frame until El can make another one,” Steve shrugged, giving him a soft smile.

“But it’s important to you.”

“It is. And it makes me a little sad that it can’t be fixed. But it was an accident, right?”

“Of course it was.”

Steve leaned in to kiss his lips. “Then it’ll be okay.”

“How are you so calm?” Eddie asked, almost mad that Steve seemed so fine with this after spending the last ten minutes thinking Steve would lose his shit.

“Because it’s just a picture frame. It’s special, sure, but it’s not the end of the world. I remember that having a lot more destruction,” Steve smirked.

“But it’s broken because of me. I was rushing to clean up and wasn’t careful.”

“And you’re clearly more upset about it than I am. You didn’t mean to break it. It’s alright.”

“You aren’t gonna break up with me?”

Steve blinked at him, confused. “What?”

“You aren’t gonna yell?”

Steve’s face fell, suddenly understanding what was going on. He cupped Eddie’s face in his hands and smiled.

“Eds, I love you. I forgive you.”

“You do?”

“Yes. It was an accident. I’m not gonna be mad at you over an accident.”

Eddie’s body relaxed for the first time since he saw the frame fall to the floor. He rested his forehead against Steve’s and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist.

“I love you, too. Sorry I panicked like that.”

“It’s okay. But you know I love you so much it’s disgusting, right? One broken picture frame isn’t gonna send me packing,” Steve’s thumb rubbed along Eddie’s cheek. “I’m in it for the long haul with you. We bought this house together, we’re gonna get married someday, have kids. You’re gonna be stuck with me for a long, long time, Munson.”

“Promise?” Eddie’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Promise.”

[mingtinysworld]

Don’t Hurt Me

Pairing: kang yeosang x fem!reader

Genre: smut

Word Count: 2k

Summary: The presence of a killer is made known on the news. Little did you know, you would have your own encounter with the man, experiencing a night you won’t forget.

Warnings: MDNI, mute yeosang, “psychopath killer” yeosang, mention of a knife, clothed grinding, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), handjob, couple clit slaps

NOTE: the sign language is the italics in terms of conversation

A/n: lowkey this idea was much better written in my head💀 but I hope you like it! I tried to challenge myself with a new concept, and honestly imagining yeosang in this role got me hot and bothered so yeah. Please like, comment and reblog!! - J

It was a late Friday night and you finally got off of work, completely ready for the weekend. To celebrate, you found yourself drinking at the local pub, which is conveniently not frequented by others often. You lazily stir your drink as you lean your face in your hand, watching the tv with an detached frown.

There’s no one around at this late hour. Only the barman and you occupy the space, giving you the option of sitting wherever you’d like. The sports channel gets switched off all of a sudden, turning to the news. You lift an eyebrow in slight interest, trying to see if there’s anything worth paying attention to.

“We present tonight’s news with great urgency. There’s been a dangerous man spotted around town. His face hasn’t been revealed, but he is going around killing individuals. Stay diligent, and if you see anything suspicious, call 911 immediately.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. This little town has stayed relatively peaceful for the 7 years you’ve been living there, so imagining a killer going around shocks you. You know you should head home, but the warmth is pulling you down further in your seat.

Suddenly you can feel a cold breeze brush past your shoulder and you shiver involuntarily. You lift your head up from the counter and almost fall backwards from the shock. There’s a newcomer sitting next to you, very closely.

He has long, silky, sandy blonde hair. His nose is sharp and jaw so sculpted he looks almost statue like. His eyes are looking deeply into yours and you could spend at least an hour trying to decipher all the emotions residing in them. He’s got deep, dark eyes, that are nothing short of being sinful. It’s as if he’s silently beckoning you to fall headfirst into his gaze.

After a few moments of astonished staring at the stranger, you compose yourself and attempt to sit up as straight as possible. You straighten up your spine and make direct eye contact.

“Hey, how are you?” You ask, trying to not sound overly inquisitive. You feel alarmed for a split second when you see him lift up his hands from his lap. You involuntarily lean back, trying to put distance between you.

“Do you know sign language? I’m mute, but I can talk through writing as well.”

Your heart rate immediately goes down. The poor guy was just trying to communicate. Coincidentally enough, you actually do know sign language. Turns out the four years of ASL classes in high school paid off after all, and you feel grateful to your teachers. You instantly sign back to him.

“I do know sign language actually. What brings you here today?”

He gives you a cute, crooked smile and leans in a tiny inch closer.

“I saw a pretty girl sitting here, thought I’d keep her company.” He finishes off with a smirk.

You can’t help your surprise at his blatant flirting, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it. Trying to match the vibe, you flirt right back.

“Wow, I’d love the company of a very handsome man actually. Thank you.” You send a wink and immediately cringe at yourself. What is wrong with you?

He opens his mouth in a silent laugh and you can’t help but admire his perfect teeth. He really is a beautiful man, the type to catch the attention of anyone and everyone around him. You can bet that even your most straight friends would want to get in his pants, no questions asked. He notices your distracted state and waves a hand across your face.

“What are you thinking about pretty girl?” He asks.

You flush from being caught staring at him. You’re thankful that he can’t read your mind, but from the confident tilt of his head it looks like he can tell anyways. You think of an excuse but choose to tell the truth.

“I just think that you’re very pretty.” You say honestly.

His face brightens at your admission, and he scoots a little closer. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and you feel desire bubbling deep within. You can feel the soft puff of air from him against your own mouth and you dart your eyes between his eyes and lips. You close the distance between your bodies and slot your lips against his.

He moves along with you, breaths synchronizing. He slides an arm behind you, holding onto your waist with a gentle tug. His body warms you up and you melt into his touch, making you completely disregard the fact that this man is still a stranger. You cling to the edge of his shirt tighter when you feel a sharp, thin object against your ribs.

You pull back with a start and find that you’re held still by his strength. As you look into his eyes, you note with slight panic that his eyes have changed dramatically. He’s looking down at you with an excited malice, as if he’s looking forward to destroying you. You shrink down with dread, realizing that you’re utterly fucked.

You take a subtle glance at the tv which is showing the news still, and he catches the look, shooting you a toothy smile.

“Yeah, that’s right, I’m the ‘psychopath.’” He admits somewhat proudly. “I won’t hurt you though sweet thing. Not unless you want me to.” He drags a cold finger down your jaw, lightly holding you in place.

He removes the knife away from you, gazing at it fondly. “This little friend of mine has been with me through some things. Isn’t she beautiful?” A shudder goes through your body as you look at the sinister shine of the blade. He’s looking at you expectantly, wanting to hear an answer. You don’t bother using sign language anymore as he can hear perfectly fine. You only used it out of consideration, but there’s no more consideration left for him.

“I couldn’t care less about your stupid knife.” You spit with venom. You want him to be offended, to burst out in anger, but he only gives you the most irritating grin. It’s as if nothing can phase him.

“You’re so cute,” he shakes his head in what appears to be endearment. “I can’t wait to be buried in you.” Your eyes widen at that and you feel an involuntary fluttering in your core. You can’t believe that you’re getting turned on right now. The situation is absolutely absurd, a killer is sitting in front of you, and you’re getting your panties wet.

His eyes follow the movement of your thighs, trying to gain friction against each other. He splays out a hand against one thigh, keeping you still. You look at him with both shame and lust in your eyes, and he mirrors the latter. With a glance to the bartender, who appears to be heavily involved with his phone, he grabs your hand and drags you out of the bar.

You pull back slightly, making him stop in his tracks. “Wait, I want to know what your name is.” You ask him.

He looks intently into your eyes and answers. “My name’s Yeosang.”

Before you can say anything he drags you forward again. You walk for a few minutes until you reach a very shiny looking car. At a closer glance it appears to be a Ferrari. You look at Yeosang with a surprised look and his shoulders shake with a silent laugh.

“What, Princess? Were you expecting a trashy car from me?”

“I guess??” You say uncertainly with a shrug. He shakes his head again and opens the door for you. You get in and he closes the door after him. You sit there awkwardly for a second, not sure if you should do anything. Yeosang breaks you out of your thought however when he attacks your lips.

His lips are on yours in a flash, and you’re fighting with tongues. He squeezes your hip and slides his knee in between your legs, subtly rubbing against your now very wet panties. You should feel mortified, but all you feel is desire.

You grind against his clothed knee, and your clit catches it at an angle that makes you moan into his mouth. He grabs hold of your ass and moves you against him harder, eliciting pathetic mewls from you. You shockingly feel your climax approaching very quickly, and so could Yeosang apparently, and he immediately stops his movements. You whine in complaint but he shushes you with another intense kiss.

He quickly rids of his pants and your panties and pumps his cock a few times. You eye his length and your mouth salivates an embarrassing amount. You choose to give in to your temptations. You spit on your hand and slide it up and down Yeosang’s cock. He jolts in surprise but lets out a pleased hum, covering your hand in his, following the up and down motion.

If he wasn’t addicted to you already, he definitely is now. Seeing your tiny hand jerking him off sets off fireworks in his brain and he feels short of breath. He feels about ready to burst so he gently takes your hand away and has you lie down. He hovers above you and you can’t help but vibrate with anticipation.

He slides in slowly, filling every inch of space inside you. You arch your back in pleasure and throw your head back. Yeosang watches your reaction with eager eyes, needing you to feel like a goddess. He then watches your cunt sucking him in hungrily and loses all composure.

He pulls out until the tip is left, and slams back in with so much force your back bounces on the seats. He hits your sweet spot with every thrust, making you see stars, and you babbling incoherently by this point. You grab onto whatever you can find, his shirt being one of the items.

He slaps your clit harshly and you cry out at the sting. He slaps it two more times, leaving you a sobbing writhing mess. A knot tightens in your stomach and Yeosang can feel you clenching around him. He grits his teeth tightly and somehow thrusts even harder.

A few more sloppy thrusts later you’re coming undone around him. Your stomach convulses and your legs can’t seem to stop shaking. He pulls out and comes all over your stomach, ropes of cum coating your soft skin. He hangs his head and lets out a few deep breaths.

You close your eyes and bask in the afterglow. Quite literally, because the light of the lamppost is hitting your stomach and illuminating his cum brightly.

He looks around for something to clean you up with and finds one of his spare shirts. He cleans you the best he can and caresses your flushed cheek. You flutter your eyes open and find him looking at you with adoration, corners of his mouth lifting slightly.

He signs “thank you” and you let out a chuckle. “I should be the one thanking you, Yeosang.” He smiles softly and proceeds to put your clothes back on. As soon as the band of your skirt is snapped back onto you, you hear the sirens.

Yeosang stiffens in place, and looks at you with a distressed tilt of his eyebrows. He looks about ready to flee, but he hesitates. He looks around for something and you look on curiously. He finds a pen and paper and writes down some digits. He hands it to you and you see that it’s a phone number, along with an address.

“Come find me soon.”

With a mischievous wink he leaves the car and disappears into the night with the sirens fading away. You stay there for a bit, completely stunned with the turn of events. You can’t believe he just left you and the car like this, but you also can’t get over the intense passion you two shared. Slowly you get out of the car and head to your apartment where you should’ve been all along.

You do your regular nightly routine, get into pajamas and set your alarm.

You’ve got an important trip tomorrow.

[gothamite-rambler]

Talia being a good (villain) mom and getting her son the doll he always wanted.

Talia: Tifl!

Damian (now 12): Why did Alfred let her into the house?

Damian heard the sound of his mother's heels echoing down the halls of the manor until she reached his bedroom, where he was working on math homework at his desk. She held out a gift bag to him.

Talia: I got this for you.

Damian: Your sanity?

Talia (laughing softly): That left after the tenth dip in the pit. No, I got you the gift you wanted since you were seven.

Damian took the bag, looking at it with skepticism. He pulled out the black tissue paper and revealed a brown boy Barbie doll.

It was something he remembered asking for often and even begging for at one point, but he had never received it. Over time, he had given up hope, especially due to Ra's negativity towards him.

Damian took the bag, eyeing it with skepticism. He pulled out the black tissue paper, and his eyes widened as he unveiled a brown boy Barbie doll—something he had often asked for and even begged for at times, but had never received. Gradually, he had lost hope, especially with Ra’s constant negativity looming over him.

Talia: I wanted to give you the best gift because I know how much you love Barbie—no judgment there! The old me would've reacted like my father, but the new me understands and appreciates your hobby. I couldn’t find the perfect one, so I had it custom made by the Barbie company. Ta-da! He’s Arab and White, just like you!

Damian: You got this for me?

Talia: Absolutely! You’ve always said you wanted one that resembled you, and here he is. It wasn’t easy getting in touch with the company, but once I flashed the cash, they got right to work.

Damian: I'm not sure what to say...

Damian smiled softly, eliciting a beaming smile from Talia, though she maintained her distance to give him space to take in the new doll.

Damian: I can’t believe you remembered I wanted one. I begged for this but never received it.

Talia: Of course I remember! I raised you for eight years, after all. Ra might say boys shouldn’t play with dolls, but I refuse to listen to that nonsense anymore. I’m here to make my baby happy—even if it meant spending a good chunk of money to barge into Barbie headquarters, providing them with detailed notes for your custom doll, and creating a scene when one of them said boys shouldn’t play with dolls.

Damian (surprised): You really did that?

Talia (winking with a smile): I even got that intern fired for his comments! Anything for my tifl.

Damian stared at the doll, momentarily lost for words.

Damian (clearing his throat): Th- Thank you, Mother.

Talia wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek.

Talia: I’d do anything for you, even if you choose not to join my family's side... although I suspect you probably will. But I understand if you don’t. Now, I have to go. Your father doesn’t know I broke in, but he will find out soon. Bye, tifl.

Talia opened the window and slipped through, landing gracefully on her feet just as Bruce noticed and chased after her. Damian leaned out the window, then glanced back at the doll, a smile spreading across his face.

[kachowden]

hihi!! can you say more about cameron?

Cameron (Yandere Therepaist) Facts and Info

Tw: Mild Yandere themes, Nsfw mentions

In terms of what type of yandere Cameron is, he’s actually a fairly manageable one.

You have to keep in mind, that before you came into the picture he was a normal dude.

I mean a wealthy normal dude but yknow still normal. Went on dates. Experienced break ups. Though after college he focused more on his career than anything.

As a romantic partner, he’s actually quite the romantic. Maybe a bit more, marital, in his behavior, likely referring to you both as if you’ve been wed already, but other than that he’s really not that bad

He’s very willing to help around house, and will gladly assume the role of either being the breadwinner or the househusband.

Money isn’t really a problem for Cameron, the problem is that he can’t help himself but to spend it all on you.

Expect a lot of gifts. Constantly. On random occasions. It doesn’t even have to be a holiday

Realistically you could probably give him a compliment one day and within a few hours he’ll be a blushing mess handing you a new present wrapped with a pretty bow. (He’s good with his hands)

While Cameron is willing to clean the house and take care of any of your needs, I will admit he’s not the best cook.

If he offers to make something for you, I’d recommend takeout instead.

Now if we have a look at his more, not so great qualities, it’d be important to mention his jealousy problem.

He’s good at hiding it in public don’t get me wrong! He’s pretty well behaved when it comes to someone flirting with you in front of him

A charming smile, a hand on your hip, a kiss on your cheek, simple stuff like that to get the other person to take a hint.

If all else fails he may call the cops and report them to authorities as a dangerous criminal. Whyd they confess to a bunch of crimes they didn’t even commit? Who knows.

Despite how he acts in public though, at home it’s a considerably different story.

He’s not an angry guy, but everyone has their limits.

And sometimes he needs to blow off some steam after having those limits tested.

If he’s feeling more neglected and needy, then expect a night full of worship and adoration.

He’s on his knees all night for you. Consider yourself pillow royalty for the night. Just make sure you have your attention on him the whole time.

And if you’re feeling particularly sweet, you can have fun reducing him to tears as well! He’ll definitely let you take the reigns.

He wants you to remember how wonderful of a partner he is. How obedient he can be. How good he can make you feel, and how no one else will make you feel this way.

If he’s feeling particularly ignored or disrespected though, you’ll be on the receiving end of some deliciously exhausting hours.

He won’t hurt you, no not in a million years.

But he might take you so many times that either your brain turns to mush or are reduced to tears.

All while he keeps whispering how much he loves you in your ear

How much you need him. How he should be the only one allowed to touch you like this.

But on nights where you’ve merely been gone for a long time, just expect to come home to a wonderful partner, dressed in the most revealing of clothes, and ready to service you however you want.

A/N: tysm for the support anon <3

[awniie]

BIG BABY W/CHOSO

ʚ content: fem!reader, reader takes care of sick choso, reader wishes boyfriends spends more time with her, fluff ⠂°⠄🕯

ʚ summary: your bf choso loves being your big baby when he’s sick (all the time) ˎˊ˗

ʚ note: i want choso to be my big baby ♡

You were sitting on the couch in the living room of your apartment. You’d been stationed there for hours, mindlessly scrolling on tiktok and instagram. You hadn’t done anything productive all day, not a great way to start off the new year but you’ll save that train of thought for another time. You didn’t want to be lazy alone, in fact you were supposed to spend the day rotting with your boyfriend, Choso Kamo.

Only a couple more minutes you thought, checking your messages app, waiting a text that would said “I’m here!”. You were supposed to be binge-watching the new season you and your boyfriend’s favorite historical drama at 5:30. Season 4 had just released and you were dying to start it now, but choso made you promise that you wouldn’t start it until he got back from visiting his brother Yuji who had just gotten a cold. “Please baby,” he’d beg you, tying the laces of his black prada boots. “I promise I’ll be back soon and we’ll watch it together.” You gave him an overdramatic sigh and pouted, to which he responded with a peck on your temple. You turned your head up go meet his lips to yours, drawing him into a deeper, more desperate kiss.

"Just be patient, okay? T's only for a couple hours." Choso whined as he pulled himself away from your lips. You couldn’t help but smile a little, you loved his whines, but right now what you’d love even more is for him to just postpone his 3rd visit to Yuji’s this week. You understand he was sick, but Choso was always at his brothers place. “I already lost my brothers before, I’m not trying to lose anymore.” He’d tell you matter-of-factly whenever you had something to say about his visits. You’d understand, to a degree, but sometimes he would come back home all sleepy-eyed and exhausted and you knew he probably spent a majority of his time fretting over his more-then-capable younger brother. You’d just wish he’d rely on you more instead of always trying so responsible.

But that was hours ago, and your boyfriend swore he’d been here in only a couple minutes. You stretch and pull up your black spandex shorts you’d been wearing along with a pink cropped hoodie from garage. ‘This boy better hurry up, or else I’m just gonna start it without him.’ You’d thought, fingers reaching towards the remote that had been waiting allllll day to be picked up.

Suddenly, and thank the Lord, you heard keys jingling from the outside door of your apartment, and heard the familiar sounds of the turning knob. You practically leaped out off the chair you’d been lounging on, and ran over to give your boyfriend the biggest, tightest hug. (Mostly for making you wait all day.) But when you wrapped your arms around choso’s muscular frame, You could feel how warm his body was, how shaky he was and the distinct smell of sickness.

“Cho’ are you okay-?” You questioned, slowly peeling your chest away from his so you could get a better look at him. His hair was coming undone, the spiky buns now loosened and practically gone. His eyes were somehow more heavy then usually and you noticed he was shivering a little.

“Mhm, I’m f-fine baby, jus’ a little tired. Can we go lay down on the couch, please?” Choso answered. He tried to keep his voice steady but it was obvious how pitiful he appeared. You led him down unto the couch, sitting him upright and draping him with the blanket. You placed your hand on your forehead, and almost gasped at how hot he was.

“Cho, you’re burning up, did Yuji get you sick?” You asked, while standing up from the couch and going to the kitchen. Ibuprofen wouldn’t heal any sickness, but I’d get rid of his fever at least. Choso started to follow after you, sniffling and breathing heavy. “No no, no. You stay there. You clearly sick, lemme grab you some medicine.” He indignantly continued after you. “‘M not sick. I’m just a little chilly, that’s all.”

“Yeah, okay whatever you said.” You retorted, grabbing the pill bottle from your white cabinet and shaking out two umber colored pills. You moved away from the counter, noticing your boyfriend seemingly disappeared. “Cho’ where’d you go-“ you cut off as you foot hit something large and definitely out of place. Your 5’9 boyfriend was on the floor curled up into a little ball, shivering and sniffling under the blanket. “Oh my goodness Cho- Okay let’s bring you back to the couch.” You instructed, awkwardly lifting him off the hardwood floors and back unto the couch. Now he was back on the upholstery, but he still needed his medicine. “Okay, Choso. I’m gonna need you to open your mouth so you can take this medicine, okay? It’s gonna make you feel a whole lot better.” You coaxed, brushing the escaped tendrils of hair from his heated face.

“Nooo, ‘M good. Don’t worry about me.” he mumbled, still a shaky, pathetic mess. You groaned at his stubbornness. “Cmon Cho. You’re obviously sick so can you please just take it.” In your hand were the pills and a glass of water that he clearly didn’t wanna take. He frowned and closed his eyes, refusing to take the medication. He was acting like a spoiled toddler, expression pouty and fake. “Choso. Stop acting like a baby and just take it, it’s just a pill!” You urged, not noticing the edge in your voice, but he did. He took that medicine so fast, gulping the water to chase it down. You smiled, even though were shocked at his sudden change in disposition. Deciding to give your boyfriend a reward, you gift him a smooch on the nose, brushing more hair out of his face. “Good boy, see that wasn’t so bad. Now you’ll feel so much better.” You promised. You sat yourself right next to him, allowing him to rest his head on your shoulders.

For the rest of the week, you were both surprisingly happy. Your boyfriend was finally getting some well needed rest, and you got to watch the new episodes of your show together (he didn’t have much a choice with you padding after him everywhere). Choso never knew how much he’d enjoy being the not responsible one for a change. You were making sure he ate, checking up on him, kissing and loving on him. He was hungry for the praises that seemed to come out of you with much more proficiently now that he was succumbed to illness. You followed him constantly, and he secretly loved the fussing and attention. He’d definitely had to catch a cold more often. Of course, he was still protective older brother to Yuji, but your boyfriend Choso loved being your big baby. ♡

[rottenrosethorns]

Promise | Part One

Pairing: RE4!Leon S. Kennedy x co-worker!fwb!afab!Reader 

Genre: Friends with Benefits AU, Smut 

Synopsis: You and Leon had a strictly professional work relationship and strictly physical personal relationship. But recently, you start to notice more affection from Leon little by little. With his upcoming mission, will you be able to confront him before he leaves? 

Warnings: 18+ SEXUAL CONTENT MINORS DNI, vanilla, oral sex (mutual), throatfucking (receiving), choking (receiving), cum swallowing (mutual), hair tugging (giving), public oral, physical restraint – hand wraps used (received). Please inform me if I missed anything! 

Word Count: 5.6K

A/N: this is my first leon fic and im very, very new to the RE fandom but not new to writing, so i apologize if some parts/personality is non-canonical! im still working on learning more about the universe. also, this is my first fic ive written since a year so…if this is bad, im so sorry, working hard to get my writing back to better as well <//3 also there might be a part 2 but might not??? depends idkkkkk, if this goes well or not lolll

.....

- masterlist - 

- part two -

.....

You don’t remember how it started. All you knew was that somehow, it became routine for you both to spend Friday nights together after work. 

At first, it was every few months, nothing structured really. A stray text, here and there. A brief "My place or yours?" or "Are you up?" sufficed whatever cravings either conjured during the quieter nights. 

If he needed to be satisfied, you’d be there. If you needed to relieve stress, he’d be there. And that, for the longest time, was the determination of the relationship. There wasn't really much need for anything else. Leon was always out on missions, fighting off whatever offspring the latest virus variant had mutant and you were diligently cooped up in your tiny office, researching past strains, tracking patterns for the next possible mutations, and investigating outbreaks. 

Even though you both worked at the same company, albeit in different departments, crossing paths with Leon was not uncommon. Despite the frequency, every interaction was conducted as if you both were strangers. Partly because nobody at work needed to know the personal agendas you both occasionally shared as well as the work dynamic between your titles and ranks. It didn’t matter anyways, nobody would ever catch on that a DSO agent and a researcher would intermingle in bed anyways. 

But eventually, those seldom visits became monthly, always being on the first Fridays for convenience. It was weird to keep a schedule like that, especially when the appointment was solely for sex, but it’s what worked best for the both of you and neither of you had any complaints. Almost like a regular wellness checkup with your family doctor except none of you suffered from any illnesses. 

Then, monthly became weekly. Both of you needn’t ask to come over anymore, practically leaving work together on Fridays. You clean up whatever case you were working on, pack up, and head towards his apartment. This was routine. 

So, it was obvious what your plans for tonight were. 

“L/N.” A few knocks accompanied your colleague’s voice. She was Poppy, a sweet girl from a few doors down. One of the only co-workers that was near your age. 

Your desk was a mess, papers skewed everywhere from the recent case concerning a missing girl filled every square inch surface of your office. Briefly glancing up from the disarray of files, you caught a glimpse of her with her light coat and bag on, “Clocking out?”

Poppy cheered, “Yup, my shift at the bar is starting. Care to join me and the rest of the agents?”

“I’d love to, but I have plans for tonight already,” A mental image of you sitting yourself on Leon’s throbbing dick painted into your mind. Or perhaps maybe you’ll let him take the lead tonight with him pinning you down on all fours, “Maybe Saturday, if you're not hungover enough.”

“I’m always ready for a good time, hungover or not! If you change your mind, come find us downtown,” Admittedly, that’s what you liked most about Poppy. She was always cheerful, a great change of pace in the gloomy environment of your job. Not that you were overly pessimistic, you were just very logical and had a job to do. A job to find a missing girl and investigate the T-virus. So, you both exchanged goodbyes before you sighed and continued to review the deadend clues for the nth time. 

“You have plans for tonight?” 

You raised your eyes in surprise, sure that you were alone in the office, having this time of evening to been way past normal work hours as well as the rest of the floor supposedly at the bar. Well, everyone but him now. 

“I have plans every Friday, Kennedy.” You blinked innocently, keeping your facial expression neutral as you initially reference your workload; however, the sight of him in the cursed tight t-shirt underneath his jacket immediately shifted your tone into a sneaky innuendo. 

Leon was fairly well at keeping his composure, speaking nonchalantly without skipping a beat as he leaned up against your office door frame, “More important than catching up with the crew?”

You caught on to his dismissal, not willing to embarrass yourself with desperation to fix your sexual desire. Thus, you mockingly tapped your files as if Leon couldn’t see the plethora of papers for himself, “I have a case.”

“You’ve been on that case for weeks now,” As if to taunt you with silent temptation, he crossed his arms, defining his biceps. Damn him, you thought. Although you couldn't see them underneath his jacket, you could tell just by the strain of wrinkles folded in the fabric. Damn his shirt too, you thought. 

You shook your head, motioning towards the bulletin board of cold trails, “I’ve got to find a lead.”

“It’s one night, you can get back to it on Monday,” Leon pushed off the doorframe to welcome himself further into your office. You thought he’d make his way to inspect your bulletin, only to be surprised when he placed himself directly across from the other side of your desk. He bent forwards, placing each hand on the edge of your wooden desk and leaning his face close to yours. Even without words, you knew he wanted you to take a break. 

“I have to find the missing girl.” 

“One night,” Leon sighed before taking one hand to take the files out of yours and shutting your laptop closed, “It won’t kill you.”

“It could be enough to kill the girl,” You argued. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have said that to save yourself a glare from Leon. A moment of silence passed before you sighed, not in frustration but in defeat,  “Let’s go before I change my mind.” 

Since when did it become so hard to say no to him? 

.....

“So, you decided to come after all!” Poppy cheered with a slight slur in her speech, already moving to pour you a drink, “I knew Leon would convince you.”

You gave Leon an accusatory look to which he dodged by moving to greet another colleague, “You-”

“Cheers!!” Poppy all but screamed into your ear whilst practically shoving the glass of alcohol to your lips. You quickly reacted, taking in the liquid in a few large gulps. 

“Damn girl, you practice that?” Poppy scrunched her eyes playfully, suggesting that you practice with more than just drinking alcohol in your down time. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw a ghost of a smirk appear on Leon’s face before disappearing as quickly as it appeared. Regardless, you shot him a dirty look. 

“Take a seat!” Poppy beckoned, sluggishly taking your coat and bag. 

There was only one spot left located on the far side of the table. Just as you were about to make your way, Poppy’s voice halted you, “Hey, move it, will you?”

Poppy’s question was more like a demand towards another colleague, “What? I’m already sitting here. Why should I move?’

“Just move!!” Poppy pretty much shoved the poor man out of his seat before turning towards you with a soft smile and gesturing you to sit. For a moment, you’d forgotten how this sweet girl could become a special agent, but with that display, you remembered just how tough she could be under that kind smile. 

“Thanks,” You laughed nervously, not wanting to be on the other end of her wrath. You wondered why sitting here was such a big deal until you realized it wasn't where but who you were sitting next to. With a seat so hidden in the corner and a private room full of many people, you were sandwiched between Leon’s sturdy torso and the wall. From where you were, you had to ask Leon to grab any drinks or food for you. 

“Want something?” Leon looked at you, ready to grab anything that you wanted. 

You nodded and thanked him. You did feel bad for making him grab all the things you wanted – especially since you were known to be a menu hog – but you really didn’t have much of a choice. It was either use him to do your bidding or climb over his lap in front of everyone. Just as you were about to ask for your desired dishes and drinks, Leon already knew what to bring to your plate without you needing to tell him. 

Since when did he know your favorite foods? 

.....

“You’re going on the missing girl mission?” 

Leon nodded, persona instantly switching to serious. His jaw tensed, brows furrowed as the tiny wrinkles creased between them. This was usual, almost like a pre-mission ritual of his to get in the mindset of gore, bloodbaths, and bioweapons. Afterall, nothing can prepare a man for the horrors that go on during those missions. Not even you. You've investigated countless missions, earning lead researcher in many strain cases, yet whenever it came to Leon being the leading agent you suddenly had so many questions, overly irrelevant and useless. 

Will you be okay? How long will you be gone? What’s your mission? Will you come back alive? Are you going alone? Is it dangerous? What if you get sick? What if you don’t come-

“Y/N!”

“Huh?” 

“I asked you a question.”

“Oh, sorry,” You slightly winced, holding a hand towards your head and checking to see if you were ill. It was unlikely of you to get distracted so easily. Forcing out a cough, you cleared your throat to compose yourself, “What was your question?” 

“Are you okay?” Leon shares a look of worry, placing a warm hand over your shoulder as if to comfort you while his other hand replaces the one on your forehead, “You don’t seem to be burning up.”

You gulped, tongue and mouth agonizingly dry as your eyes flickering towards his touch. As much as you wanted to shy away, his touch was warm and you craved his heat. It was unlikely of him to be in such near proximity to you, especially when you both could be seen through the glass walls of the briefing room. You averted your gaze, shakily looking at his baby blue eyes so it wasn’t obvious you were fixated on his hands, “Was that the question?”

“No,” Leon admitted with a small frown painting his sharp features, “You just don’t look so well.”

“Just thinking, I guess.”

“About?”

“Your mission.”

A half-lie, half-truth. Sure, you were concerned about his mission. You're highly paid and trained to be worried about these missions, but moreso, your concerns focused on him. In actuality, you didn’t really need to, he always came back safe. On the brink of death sometimes, yes. But, still alive nonetheless. 

He gave a curt nod, “I’ve got training soon, but can I swing by later to get your debrief? It’s your case, you’re the expert. I need all the help in order to save the girl.”

“Of course, how late are you staying at the office?” You brought up your schedule, double checking if there were any meetings you still needed to attend. 

“Actually, I was thinking we could go back to my place?” Leon nervously smiled, eyes squirting slightly, “Um, you know, because I got to sharpen my knives before I go.”

“You want me to debrief you at your place while you sharpen your knives?” The tail end of your tone stretched to be high pitched in your confusion. Was this a joke?

Leon let out an airy chuckle, “Yeah?��

You followed suit, letting out a laugh to ease the confusion, “Sure, I guess, wanna order in?”

“Yeah,” Leon smiled, “Pizza would be nice.” 

“I'll see you then.”

Since when did Leon come up with excuses to see you?

.....

“Pizza’s here!” 

Leon leapt up, putting his knives and sharpening tool on the wooden coffee table and rushing towards the doors to retrieve the pizza, “Thank god, I needed a break.”

You flipped through the debrief packet, only having gone through the first few pages of the hefty pile, “It’s a lot, these people – uh zombies? – are dangerous and fucked. Better to be safe than sorry.” 

“I’ll save the girl, promise.” 

Leon set the pizza box and wings on the table, careful not to let the grease seeping through the cardboard touch the mission materials and quickly left to grab plates and drinks. Meanwhile, you had continued to read aloud whatever essential background information he’d need to understand the nature of this mission. You hadn’t realized you were so heavily engaged in your notes to notice Leon plating two slices and setting a drink for you before helping himself. So, you continued until you heard the sound of Leon’s soft chewing. 

Looking up, you finally noticed that Leon moved to sit on the floor and rest his back on the legs of the sofa. Putting down the packet, you followed him and moved to sit next to him, “I got a bit carried away, huh?”

Leon shared a smile, showing no signs of disdain, “Just a bit. Take a break, we can get back to it later.” 

You held back a yawn, disguising it as you sipped your water and started devouring your pizza. You hadn’t realized how hungry you’ve gotten. You suppose you shouldn’t be skipping lunch anymore, but you knew that you’d probably forget that change in habit the next day. You both ate in silence. Normally, you found silence comfortable, but alone with Leon? You despised it. 

“You look troubled,” Leon scanned your face, “Wanna share?”

You pressed your lips together, indeed you were troubled. The sight of his sharpened knives had invoked the bombardment of concerning questions again. They burned on the tip of your tongue, begging to be spoken. 

“It’s...” You hesitated. 

Leon didn’t speak. Not because he didn’t have anything to say, but as if to encourage you, letting you know that all of his attention was on you and that he had no intention of interrupting you. 

You sighed, “I’m just worried.”

“About the mission? I’ll save the girl. When have I ever failed?” Leon smirked. 

For a moment, you laughed as well before becoming solemn again, “Not that, more about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

“Why?”

Without thinking, you split all the questions you’d been brewing since earlier. Pizza forgotten, you didn’t realize you’d been rambling until you’d run out of breath. Yet, Leon never interrupted you, letting you vent out. 

“Sorry,” You looked away embarrassed, shoving the slice of pizza to prevent you from speaking, “I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m sure you will take care of yourself.” 

If it had only been a couple of seconds, it felt like excruciating hours had passed from Leon’s silence. The room felt stuffy, the lights felt like they were shining too bright, and the sweat was sticky on the palm of your hands. The voice in your head was begging, crying for him to say something, anything. You didn’t care if he laughed in your face or reassured you. You just needed to hear something from him, so that you didn’t drown in your own thoughts. You had a tendency to overthink. 

You shrinked back, heavy under the gaze of Leon. You didn’t know what to do, so you made an excuse of needing to use the restroom to escape the invisible chokehold. You hovered over the sink, closing your eyes and taking deep breaths to calm yourself. It didn’t help much, but it at least eases your heartbeat back to a normal range. Eyes now open, you pathetically look at yourself in the mirror and internally berate yourself for your foolishness. Has Leon made you lose all your self control now? 

A brisk knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts. As much as you didn’t want to face Leon, you couldn’t hide in his bathroom forever. 

“Leon, I-” 

Leon doesn’t wait for you to fully open the door, pushing his way in and pulling your body flush against his. His lips find a way to your neck, sucking and licking at the fragile skin. You were sure they left marks in its wake. Your words are cut off with a quick moan, your hand coming up to cover your mouth in shock. You weren’t sure what made him act this way, but you definitely weren’t complaining. If this is what’s going to distract him from the previous conversation, then you were more than willing to satisfy him. Plus, today was Friday. This was routine. 

Leon’s hands trail all over your body as the both of you stumble back into the living room and fall onto the couch. This was quick, this was sloppy, this was like two horny teenage virgins having sex for the first time. But you were with Leon, so all of that didn’t matter. You didn’t even undress fully, only having discarded your shirt before you got off Leon’s chest and kneeled on the floor to face him as he sat up. Greedily, you pushed up his shirt midway, half-hazardly exposing his tense abs before clinging your hands around the waistband of his sweats and briefs and tugging him free in one motion. 

“Excited there, big boy?” 

Leon’s cock twitched, slapping against his lower abdomen in anticipation. His length was impressive, but his girth was even more breathtaking. His tip glistened under the lights, heavily leaking with precum. You snickered internally with a silent smirk blooming across your face and eyes twinkling with mischief, amused at Leon’s erection from being untouched. 

“Watch it,” Leon’s voice was serious, tone stern and authoritative with his eyes narrowed as he watched you lick your lips at the sight of him. He was always serious and demanding during sex, yet always attentive of your needs. It was one of the things that you loved about him. You had a knack for power imbalance and an even bigger knack for defiance. 

You kissed his thighs, starting from his left knee upwards, skipping his begging cock and back down to his right knee. Leon grunted with displeasure, rolling his eyes at your cheekiness. Just as he was about to get impatient, you moved forward, lips barely brushing against his shaft. He could feel your hot breath, twitching in anticipation once again. Yet, you didn’t want to comply, having too much fun teasing him with your antics, “Watch what-”

Leon narrowed his eyes into slits, annoyance clear on his face and clearly ran out of patience with you. Wordlessly, he dug his large hands under your arms, lifting you up and throwing you roughly where he sat on the couch. Stunned and turned on from the sudden manhandling, there you laid upside down with your head slightly hanging off the edge of the cushion. All you could get out was a squeak of surprise before Leon grabbed your head on both sides to support you and shoved his dick in your mouth and roughly throatfucking you. Immediately, you gagged from the unexpected rough entrance, but loved his abrasiveness with you. Leon watched as you took all of him, throat bulging with every thrust. He basked in the disposition of your bobbing Adam’s apple and the lewd squelches echoing off the living room walls. Leon was normally attentive to your limits; however, he had a habit of getting carried away during oral, leading to you tapping his thigh twice and pushing him off. Instinctively, you spit out your cum mixed saliva as it slowly slid down the side of your cheek and sticking to your hairline. It’d be a bitch to clean later, but you could care less at this moment. 

Eyes opened, you took a deep breath in as you gasped for air. With his left hand, Leon continued to pump himself, slick hands rubbing along his length to keep his high going. With his right hand, Leon caressed your cheek with his thumb rubbing your cheekbone. 

“I’m sorry. Safeword?”

You shook your head, chest heaving, “I’m good, just give me a sec. Don’t worry, I liked it, just haven’t done this in a while.”

Leon nodded, eyes softening with slight guilt although you showed no signs of being upset, “I’ll make it up to you. Promise you’re okay?”

You kept your hand on his thigh as if to tell him that you were okay. Still with one hand, Leon took off his shirt and used it to gently wipe your face. You laughed, finding the delicate gesture humorous as he still stroked himself. 

“What’s so funny, huh?”

“Nothing.”

You smiled innocently before replacing his hand with yours and sticking your tongue out to accept his length again. Leon hissed out your name, eyebrows crinkling with pleasure. You slurped him one, twice before humming in acknowledgement. The vibrations only elicited another hiss-like moan out of him. Feeding off the noises he was making, you kept at your bobbing head, licking, gagging, and kissing all along him. You took him out of your mouth, cold air blowing against his shaft causing him to shiver. He was close, and you both knew it. 

“Choke me.” 

It was a simple demand, but it was the green light that Leon needed to resume throatfucking you. You put your hands down, using one to sneak into your pants and circle your aching clit. You hummed against Leon, earning a satisfied grunt from him, “Keep that up and you’re gonna have to swallow.”

He released his hold from you, letting you have a moment of air. You looked up at him, challenging, “Good thing I like the way you taste, Kennedy.”

Leon responded to you with a short grunt, but you didn’t fail to miss the slight flush on his face before he thrusted himself back into your awaiting mouth. His thrusts were much more forceful and rough, basically pushing your body deeper into the plushness of the couch. Your fingers switched from rubbing your clit to inserting your fingers inside yourself. Leon’s hold on your waist kept you pinned to the couch before moving to pull your pants down to view the sight of you finger fucking yourself. He never liked it when you touched yourself when with him, but at least he could watch you while you did. Must be a pride and ego thing, you thought. 

He also didn’t like when you had too much clothes on. Albeit you were definitely no less than conservative at this moment, Leon just noticed you had your bra on the whole time. He didn’t like that. His hands swiftly moved from the dip of your waist to push down the straps of your bra and expose your jiggling tits. Moments like this, Leon became obsessed with every curvature of you, latching both hands on your breasts to hold as he pounded rougher into you. 

“Almost done,” He choked out like he was the one out of breath. Borderline whimpering and whining at this point, begging for release. 

You encouraged him by using your free hand to grab his hip and guide him. Three thrusts later, Leon’s hips stuttered and knees fell slack as he released his hot, thick ropes of cum into your mouth. You pulled away, lapping up every ounce he gave you. 

“Still okay?” Leon asked, breathless. 

You nodded.

“Say it.”

“I’m okay,” You confirmed, moving to sit upright. 

“Need a break?”

You shook your head, greedily bringing his hips towards you. He looked down towards your slit, messily covered in your slick, “Who’s excited now, hm?”

You rolled your eyes, scoffing, “Shut up, Kennedy.”

He smirked, teasing you, “Don’t want it now?”

You sighed in defeat, needing to cum more than needing to save your pride. You gave Leon your best pleading eyes, brows creasing in desperation, “I do want you. Please, I need you. I need you to make me cum.”

“There we go,” Leon cooed, “How would you like me? You have to tell me what you want.”

“Please, please, I want your tongue,” You sighed, “I want to cum on your tongue.”

Thoughts about begging Leon to get to it and rail crossed your mind; however, you couldn’t resist the opportunity to beg him to eat you out. Not that it wasn’t often, it was just a special treat and you were always the type to take advantage of your situations. You’d been missing his tongue, and you craved his expertise and enthusiasm despite the snarky comments that came with it. 

“Copy that, agent,” Leon smirked, bending down and lifting your legs over his shoulders to bury his head in between your legs and licking a long stripe up your cunt, stopping to engulf his lips around your clit. 

You sighed with bliss, curling your fingers into his hair and giving a taught tug to his blonde locks. Leon released his hold, blowing on your clit as he gripped your thighs tighter and spread them further, “Behave.” 

He went to delve his tongue back into you until the shrill sound of his ringtone echoed, taking you out of the steamy atmosphere. Leon shook you off as you tried to push him away, “Ignore it.”

“But-” 

“I said leave it.”

The ringtone ceased, leaving the sounds back to being Leon’s tongue pushing in and out of your hole. Only a moment later, the ringtone came back to life and now taking the both of you out of the steamy atmosphere. Leon threw his head back with a frustrated groan, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You bite your lip, can’t help but hold back your curiosity, “Who is it?”

“The President.”

.....

Leon was leaving. Leon was leaving for Spain. Leon was leaving for Spain to fight against an infected cult to save the President’s daughter in an hour. 

Arguably, you were more nervous about his departure than him. Actually, you were more nervous than he was. All your questions from the previous night flooding your mind again. So, you took it to the company gym to let out your worries. A researcher usually doesn't occupy the training room, but you need the stress relief. Why? Because your other stress reliever was leaving the country! 

“You’re hurting yourself,” Leon leaned against the door frame, clad in his tight tactical gear. Hip pouches and combat knife strapped securely on his sturdy figure, combat boots tightly tied and double knotted, and most importantly his handgun safely holstered along his belt. Although you hated the reason why he was in his uniform, you can’t help but drool over him. 

You’d known you pushed yourself past your limit a while ago. The sting of your knuckles along with the faint patches of blood staining the fabric of the punching bag made it obvious. You’d been bleeding through your wrap for a while, but you didn’t care as the pain helped you forget about your worries. Technically, this was equally helping as it was hurting you. 

Meanwhile, Leon pushed himself off the wall, steadily walking over towards you and grabbing both your wrists. You glanced up through your lashes, staring a bit too long in his baby blue eyes, “Shouldn’t you be gone already?”

Letting go, Leon panged fake hurt from your words, “Want me gone already?”

“You know what I meant, Kennedy,” You continued throwing punches, despite Leon’s disapproving looks. Regardless, you were thankful that he didn’t try to stop you. 

“Flight leaves in an hour or so, just doing my last double checks on equipment and saying my goodbyes.”

You raised a sweaty brow with doubt, freezing mid punch and fist never meeting the punching bag, “You don’t say goodbyes.”

“I don’t.”

“So, what are you doing here?” 

“Am I not allowed to be here?” Leon perked up, knowing that he would overturn you in any conversation. You stared at each other in silence, challenging the other person to say something first. Sighing, you broke eye contact, going back to punching, “You should bring a jacket. I heard the weather is pretty bad over there. Plus, you don’t look very inconspicuous.”

“Outfit screams “On my way to save the President’s daughter from contagious B.O.W.s,” right?” Leon laughed, “But, what’s on your mind?”

You half shrugged, “Just got some stuff on my mind.”

“Like?”

You. 

“The mission.”

Leon nodded, face turning stern as if he were calculating battle tactics in his head already, “Same.”

Silence fell over the both of you again, but this time, awkward. You cleared your throat, turning away from Leon to grab at your water bottle, “Nervous?”

“Not really,” Leon’s demeanor switched to devious, “Honestly, just want to get this over with. I got some unfinished business.” 

“Unfinished business?”

Leon’s eyes held a glint in them, patiently waiting for you to catch on. 

Unfinished business. Your unfinished business. You never got to finish. 

You slapped Leon on his upper chest with a hiss, “You can’t be serious!” 

“But, I am.”

“We’re at work!” 

“And?”

You gawked at him in complete disbelief, “And? Um, I don’t know, we could get caught, we could lose our jobs!” 

Leon shugged, smiling confidently, “There’s no cameras.”

“Someone could hear us!” 

“Only if you’re loud.”

You hated the smug look on his face, knowing that you were pretty vocal. It was only until your eyes followed his as he watched you subconsciously squirm and press your thighs together. Leon gently grabbed your shoulders, pressing soothing circles on your skin, "Do you trust me?" 

The look in his eyes was so fierce, your lips quivered, "With my life." 

Leon's hands slid down your arms and snaked them around the curvature of your ass before supporting the back of your thighs, "Jump." 

And, you did. Instantly, Leon's lips peppered your skin as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. You cringed, thinking about the accumulated sweat from your workout session, but Leon didn't seem to mind. He'd make you sweat even more pretty soon anyways. You sighed with pleasure, running your hands along his arms and feeling the firmness of his biceps under your fingertips. Whilst distracted by the heat of his touch, Leon took his chance and backed you up towards the Smith machine.

“Leon, what are you-” 

He hushed a whisper in your ear, causing a shudder through your spine, “You trust me, right?”

Leon looked at you, pausing all movement until you spoke a soft, “Yes.”

“Good,” Leon glanced at you through the mirrors spanning across the entire wall of the gym, “Remember to be quiet.”

Leon unraveled your blood stained hand wraps, lacing them together over your wrists and over the bar while effectively tying your hands tightly against it. Once finished, Leon gripped his hands over the ridges on the bar, unhooking it and effortlessly lifting the bar onto a higher post on the machine. You definitely didn’t miss the bulge of his biceps. Through the mirror, your arms were outstretched way above your head with the soles of your shoes firmly touching the ground. 

Leon moved in front of you, back now facing the mirror while keeping eye contact with you the whole time. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

He pulled down your pants, noticing the lack of undergarments. He raised a brow and teasing smile itched to bloom across his quivering lips. 

“Shut up, it’s easier to workout in,” You huffed, a bright blush rushing across your face. 

Leon hummed in satisfaction, “It’s easier to eat out too.” 

“Hey-” 

Your scolding fizzled out into a loud moan as Leon repositioned your legs and dove under you with his tongue flicking your clit. His hands traveled up and down your legs, taking the time to squish your plush thighs. Leon kept his rhythm for a moment before pausing, “I thought I told you to be quiet. Unless you like the idea of being caught.”

You involuntarily clenched at his teasing, jaw tightening from your lack of composure, “Hurry, you don’t have that much time yet.”

“Don’t need that much anyways.”

Leon uses his hands to push away your legs, running his fingers up and down the skin of your thighs. He grips them every so often before sliding his hand around, cupping the crease just below your ass, and firmly tugging you forward with his tongue stuck out along your slit. You choked out a sigh, careful not to be too loud as you threw your head back in pleasure. With the guidance of Leon’s hand, your hips began grinding on Leon’s tongue as he licked and lapped your dripping sweetness. The sight of yourself through the mirror was lewd 

“I’m- I’m almost-” 

“Hold on for me.”

Leon meant it metaphorically, wanting to show off the skills of his tongue and mouth just a bit more. But he also meant physically as Leon hoisted your thighs upon his shoulders, carrying most of your weight with the help of his arms hugging you secured around your lower back. Regardless, you’d instinctively grabbed the metal bar, flexing your arms to hold yourself up. Half not to crush your weight on Leon, and the other half in need of something to grip while waves of pleasure ruined you. 

You thrust your hips forward, needing more of Leon as you ached for him, “Please, almost there.” 

Leon pushed you closer towards him, hoisting you higher so that his face was centered at your core. Leon pushed his tongue deeper into you just as you reached the apex of your climax. A deep sigh of relief came over you as you ground the last of your ecstasy onto Leon and just in time for his flight departure. Gently, he set you down, pulling your pants up for you and untying your restraints. Without saying anything, he took off your hand wraps entirely, blowing cool air on your scratched knuckles, “Take care of this later.” 

“Take care of your mission.”

Leon nodded, switching back into his agent persona. You watched him begin to walk away before he hesitated right as he passed through the door frame, “Hey.”

“Yeah?” You cast him a longing look. 

“I’m going to come back, okay? Promise.”

Since when did Leon make promises? 

[corroded-hellfire]

Okay okay so dad!Eddie picking up his kid after preschool instead of Reader and taking them out for ice cream as a treatttt? ily wifey

Anything for you, my darling! So glad that you love dad!eddie just as much as I do! 💖

Words: 1.8k

“Surprise, baby.”

The hands on your hips startle you, making your husband chuckle against your ear. He slides his hands around to your front and tugs your body back against his.

“What’re you doing home?” you ask.

“Slow day at work,” Eddie says, pressing kisses against your shoulder. “Figured I’d take the afternoon off and spend it with my family.”

Grinning, you spin around in his arms, and reach up to cup his cheeks. “Well, aren’t you just the sweetest man ever?”

“That’s what they say,” Eddie retorts with a wink. 

“Well, I was just about to leave to pick up the little troublemaker,” you say. “But I think he’d like it if his Daddy showed up instead.”

Eddie’s eyes light up, the most adorable expression on his face. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” you say with a laugh. “But watch out for those moms.” You pout, holding a finger up at him. “They all think you’re hot and you’re mine.”

“Like any of them could compare to you,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes. He presses a soft kiss to your lips. “Should we go out to dinner tonight?”

“Spoiling us today, aren’t you?” you ask with a smirk. “Sounds nice, though.”

Giving you one last kiss, Eddie pats your ass, making you squeal as he pulls away. “Maybe tonight we’ll try and give the rugrat a little sister.” Before you can respond—a flush coming to your face—he throws you a wink and is heading out the front door. Eddie could be a menace, but he knows you love it. 

The halls of the small school are loud as Eddie makes his way to his son’s classroom. There’s a small crowd surrounding the classroom door, mostly of mothers waiting to pick up their small children. 

“Eddie, right?”

Eddie turns his head to see a vaguely familiar looking woman with short black hair, giving him a blindingly bright smile. 

“Yeah,” he says, giving a polite smile in return. He really hopes she doesn’t expect him to remember her or her child because he’s coming up short. 

“I’m Eva. Andy’s mom.”

“Right,” Eddie says, nodding his head. He’s almost positive he’s never heard her nor Andy’s names before.

“Your wife is usually here, right?”

Obviously, since I’m not, he thinks. 

“She sure is. Figured I’d come get the little one today,” he says. 

“That’s so sweet,” Eva coos. “You’re such a good dad.”

I mean, he’s my kid too, Eddie thinks. 

Thankfully, the classroom door opens, saving Eddie from having to come up with a response. Over a dozen tiny humans pour out of the room, scattering like ants to find their parents. A joyful and familiar gasp greets Eddie’s ears.

“Daddy!”

“Jack!” Eddie grins and scoops his son up in his arms, peppering kisses all over his face. He’s distantly aware that some moms are watching him, and he’s not sure whether he should tell you about it to say that you’re right, or to ignore it so you don’t get that little nerve twitch in your eye that happens when you get jealous. 

“I missed you!” Jack wraps his little arms around Eddie’s neck, making his heart swell. The four-year-old pulls back to look at his dad. 

“I missed you too, pal,” Eddie says. “How was school?”

“S’good,” Jack says as Eddie places him back down on the ground. He reaches his little hand up and grabs onto his father’s. “We learned a new song. And then we got to color, and I stayed mostly in the lines this time.” 

Eddie can’t help but beam as his son chatters on about his day, leading his dad by the hand towards the exit of the school. Once they get to the car, Eddie picks Jack up again, pressing a few more kisses to his face as the little boy giggles.

“Daddyyyy!”

Ceasing his attack, Eddie chuckles and smooths down the light brown curls adorning his son’s head. His hair might be a little lighter than his dad’s, but his eyes are that same intense brown that has mom melting with a simple look, just like she’s always done with dad. 

“Let’s get you buckled in, yeah?” Eddie sets Jack’s small backpack down on the seat and helps Jack get situated in his booster seat. Unable to resist pressing another kiss to his boy’s head, Eddie does so one more time before getting into the driver’s seat. “I was thinking. How would you feel about getting some ice cream?”

Jack’s eyes light up, making Eddie grin from where he can see him in the rearview mirror. 

“Yes!” Jack squeals. 

Eddie turns the radio on as he pulls out of the parking lot. Ozzy Osbourne’s Crazy Train is playing and as Eddie begins to sing along, he hears Jack attempting to sing along, mostly babbling along to the general tune of the song. A glance in the mirror sees Jack shaking his head around as well, an honorable attempt at head banging for a toddler. When Eddie parks in front of the ice cream parlor, he unbuckles his seatbelt and turns around to face Jack, playing the air guitar to the song. The little boy giggles and starts to flail his hands around in a good imitation of air drumming. The song ends and Eddie lets out a deep breath. 

“Ready?” he asks his son.

“Ready!”

Getting out of the car, Eddie scoops his son out of the backseat and holds him up over his head. 

“Super Jack!” Eddie calls. The toddler holds his tiny fists in front of him like Superman soaring through the skies. Grinning, Eddie lowers him and holds the boy on his hip as he steps into the ice cream shop. “Okay, what flavor do you want?” 

Jack hums as his big brown eyes take in the wide variety in front of him. Eddie can practically see the drool leaking from his mouth. “Stwawberry!”

“Strawberry,” Eddie repeats. “Sounds good. Sprinkles?” Jack turns his head to give his father a look of, “duh.” Eddie chuckles and rubs his hand against his son’s stomach. “Right, right.”

Once Eddie has his cone of mint chocolate chip and Jack has his strawberry with sprinkles, the two sit across from one another in a red vinyl booth in the 50’s themed parlor. 

“How was school?” Eddie asks. 

“Good,” Jack says, little legs kicking underneath the table.

“What did you do?”

“Dunno,” Jack answers.

“You don’t know?” Eddie raises his eyebrows. “You telling me that I send you to preschool everyday just for you to come home and forget everything you did? Are they brainwashing you?” Jack giggles and shakes his head. “They hypnotizing you?” The little boy continues giggling even though he’s not sure what “hypnotizing” means. But it’s his daddy joking with him, so he’s going to laugh. 

“Had show and tell,” Jack says after another bite of ice cream. “I showed the buttons you put on my backpack.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks with a grin. “How’d the rugrats like the Iron Maiden and Megadeth pins?”

“They liked Casey’s pet bunny better,” Jack says with an adorable pout. 

“Kids got no taste,” Eddie says, shaking his head. 

“Daddy?”

“Jack?”

“I want—.”

“A bunny?” Eddie interrupts. “Sorry, pal. I don’t think so.”

“No,” Jack says. “S’not what I want.”

“What is it then? More ice cream? We’re going out to dinner with Mommy, so no more.”

“I want a baby sister.”

Eddie almost chokes on the lick he just took of the bright green ice cream. “What?”

“Brian brought pictures of his new baby sister,” Jack says of his best friend. “He told us all about her and I want one.” 

“Jesus, you and I are more alike than we already knew,” Eddie mumbles under his breath before addressing his son. “Uh, I’ll talk with Mommy about it, okay?”

“K,” Jack says as he finishes up his ice cream. “Brian says his Mommy carried the baby anyway. So yeah, ask.”

Eddie chuckles, knowing his son is envisioning his mother holding a baby in her arms, instead of how Brian’s mother carried the kid’s baby sister. 

Eddie carefully opens the front door, balancing his sleeping son in his arms. Whether it was the sugar rush or the lulling drive home, Jack had passed out halfway to the house. Quietly shutting the door behind them, Eddie presses a kiss into Jack’s curls. Padding softly down the hall towards the little boy’s bedroom, Eddie meets you coming out of your shared room.

“Hey,” you whisper, smiling at the toddler tucked up in your husband’s arms. Eddie rests his head against the soft curls and throws you a wink.

“Hey, gorgeous. Looks like all the excitement from having Dad pick him up has worn him out.”

“Either that or a sugar high,” you say. Eddie’s eyes widen and before he can open his mouth, you laugh and gesture to where a pink splotch has smooshed against Eddie’s shirt from your son’s. “Strawberry, huh?”

“What a messy rugrat,” Eddie says with a sigh. He smooths down some of his curls, gazing down fondly at the sleeping boy. 

“Like father, like son,” you tease. 

“Oh, more than you know,” Eddie says with a smirk. Raising an eyebrow at him, you follow him to Jack’s room. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? The moms at school aren’t flirting with him too, are they? Because then I have serious concerns.”

Eddie huffs a laugh as he lays Jack down on his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle blanket. 

“No,” he says as he stands back up. “Though apparently Andy’s mom knows me for some reason. Ah, there’s the twitch of the eye! Anyway, no, your son told me he wants something today. Something I very recently told you I’d like as well.”

“And what might that be?” you ask, following Eddie as he walks out of the bedroom. 

Eddie snorts and shakes his head. “You’re going to think I’m lying.”

“Since when have you ever lied to me?”

“Okay,” Eddie says as he walks into the kitchen. He turns around to face you, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Jack told me he wants a baby sister.” Your eyes widen, making Eddie laugh. “Swear to God. He said Brian brought in pictures of his baby sister and now he wants one.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you decide to throw a curveball at Eddie. “Okay. Come on.” You turn on your heel and stroll out of the kitchen.

“What?” Eddie asks, following you into the hallway.

“Do you want to get started or no?” You look down at your watch. “We’ve probably got half an hour before he wakes up. Want to get a move on it, or what? Babies don’t make themselves.”

“Shit, yeah!” Eddie wraps his arm around your waist, practically throwing you into your bedroom. Your laughter crackles through the house, but Eddie puts a hand over your mouth. “Gotta be quiet, sweetheart. Or am I going to have to put that mouth to use?”

[niceboyeds]

won't let you go (e.m.)

pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

summary: spending time with Eddie: talking about your days, futures, and enjoying each others company <3

contains: fluff, comfort, brief and non-descriptive mention of childhood trauma, clingy!eddie if you squint lol, please let me know if i missed something!

word count: 942

a/n: im just trying to fill the Eddie-shaped hole in my chest, i miss him a lot. not edited sorryyyy. 3rd time trying to post this because its not showing in the tags and i hate this site.

~~~~~~

“hey sweetness.” Eddie’s familiar lips press against the top of your head, giving you a quick kiss.

you’re sitting in your room, on a bench that allows you to look outside. it’s a rainy day and you love watching the weather from your window, but you seem to have lost track of time when you get startled by your boyfriend’s presence.

“hi there, pretty boy.” you smile, scooting away from the wall so he can sit with your body between his legs and your head on his chest.

his arms wrap you into a hug and it makes you giggle, still after over a year of dating you haven’t gotten used to how much he loves to show you affection.

“how was your day?” you ask him with a yawn, settling into his hold.

“long, but better now that I’m with you.” his face presses into the back of your head and you know he's smiling. “what about you? what did you do today?”

“I finished my book this morning, but I couldn’t go get a new one because I didn't really want to drive in the storm.”

“you should've called me. I would've stopped and gotten it for you, silly.”

“but then I’d have to wait even longer to see you.” you tilt your head up to face him and pucker your lips, signifying you want a kiss and he naturally grants your wish.

“god you’re so cute.” he smiles against your lips, pecking them one more time before you lean forward slightly.

“where are you going?” he whines, gripping you a little tighter to keep you close to him.

“I just have to pee, I’ll be right back!” you laugh, squirming out of his arms.

“how long?”

“like 3 minutes! promise.” he releases you and you scurry off to the bathroom.

“see, told ya I’d be fast.” you tell him, walking back into your room.

“3 minutes and 36 seconds.” he teases, trying his best to hold his frown but it’s no use and a smile peaks through his lips.

you sit back with him, laying on his chest once again and looking out the window. it’s days like this when you really take the time to appreciate how much you care for him. how much you love him. something so simple like watching the rain together brings you so much joy your heart could burst.

“what do you want to do after graduation?”

“I think I want to travel, not go back to school right away.” you answer honestly, seeing as you’re young and there’s no reason to rush into settling down.

“oh there’s no way I’m going back to school.”

“of course not, you’re gonna go on tour and become famous. gonna leave me in the dust.”

“nah, you’ll be my little roadie.” it’s quiet for minute as you picture the two of you traveling the world together. “do you want kids?”

that’s unexpected.

“um… I don't know yet.”

“what do you mean?”

“I don’t want to screw them up.” you pause for a beat, “I don't want them to go through what I had to.”

“you’re nothing like your parents.” he reassures you, “you are so caring and considerate. so loving. and their trauma… baby, their trauma wasn’t an excuse to hurt you.”

you know he’s right. you didn’t deserve anything you went through. even though they’ve tried to make amends with you, it’s still deeply engraved in your memories. you fought your whole life to become the complete opposite of your family. you’re still fighting.

“do you want kids?” you ask him, still not sure on your own answer.

“I want whatever you want.”

“I meant like… like if we didn’t end up together.”

“oh, no! you’re not allowed to leave me.” he squeezes you tighter, rocking you back and forth gently.

“you can’t predict the future though.”

“didn’t I tell you? I’m actually a psychic and know that you’ll be stuck with me for the rest of your life.”

you giggle at his words. that’s the thing about Eddie. even when the conversation takes an emotional turn, he’s always there to ground you and let you know he’s there for you before cracking a joke to lighten the mood. it’s just one of the many reasons you love him.

you continue to lay into him, craving the closeness. you turn to look out the window again, the rain picking up which gives you an idea.

“can… can we do something crazy?”

“I love crazy.”

you grab his hand, dragging him out of your bedroom and through the house. you head right out the front door. you look back to see his face, hoping he wouldn’t look like it was a bad idea. the ear-to-ear cheesy grin he has is all it takes for you to let his hand go and start spinning in the rain.

you laugh as you jump in puddles, playing in the rain, and just feeling free. feeling young again. like this is what your childhood should’ve been filled with.

Eddie runs up behind you, capturing you into his arms as he picks you up and the two of you spin together in the rain. both of you completely soaked but neither of you caring that you could get sick from the wetness and cold wind.

a sudden crack of thunder startles the two of you, and you wrap your arms around him tightly so you don’t fall.

“not to worry, sweetheart. I gotcha. I won’t let you go.” he leans in to kiss you, a moment that made the world stop spinning. one that reminded you that he is your safe place.

he is your family.

[oldiesstationlover11607]

Okay bestie I need a fake dating fic ?! I can’t think of a good idea so please use your amazing brain 🫶🏻 Josh or Tyler I just want the tensionnnn the piningggg yessss

Faking it - Josh Dun x Reader

Warnings: Tension and angst lol

Word Count: 2532

A/N: Girl I am so sorry this one took so long 😭 I've been very distracted this week so haven't gotten as much writing done as I normally would. Hopefully this makes up for it <3

‘Josh Dun and Halsey are over! What’s next for the twenty one pilots drummer?’ 

That was the headline on the People post at the top of my Instagram feed three weeks before I was contacted. Josh and I had been friends in high school–long before he met Tyler or had anything to do with twenty one pilots. At that point in our lives our small group of friends would spend Friday nights at his house, recording demos for theoretical albums in a desperate attempt to pass the long Columbus summers. Most of us had lost contact since we’d graduated and gone off to college. In fact, I hadn’t had Josh’s real number in my phone for at least 10 years. I’d be lying if I said that hadn’t bothered me. Celebrities were supposed to remember their friends, they were supposed to keep in contact and see them every time they visited home. Josh lived in LA. Tyler lived in Columbus. But everyone knew he came back to see Tyler and his family as much as possible–no one had heard from him. 

Except me. That one fateful day that changed everything. 

“Hi Y/N. It’s Josh. Josh Dun. I don’t know if you remember me from school or if this is even your number anymore,” the voicemail started. “I’m in town for the next few weeks and I’d like to catch up with you. There’s something I’d like to ask you but you know, it’s one of those things best said in person.” The faint buzz of another voice sounded in the background. The audio went silent for a few seconds before he continued. “So… uh… flick me a text or call me back or something but I’d like to see you. Bye.” 

It took me three days and a conversation with every one of our old friends to respond to the message. Half of them told me to ignore it–that Josh didn’t deserve anything from me–but something inside me felt like he needed it. Most of the pop culture news sites had been giving updates about the breakup and Halsey had been posting near constant tweets about the situation. It had to have been difficult on Josh, he was one of the most sensitive people I knew, and according to TMZ, he’d been keeping quiet about the whole thing. I’d stared at my phone screen for a long time, his voice still playing in my mind long after the voicemail ended each time I played it. As usual, curiosity got the better of me. Against my friends’ advice, I texted him. 

“Hey Josh. I got your message. How about we go to Margaret’s for coffee?” 

Margaret’s was a small local cafe we used to go to on Friday nights in the fall and winter, coffee being the only thing that kept us warm. 

Josh responded almost instantly, suggesting a time. I agreed, nerves building as the reality of seeing him again after so many years set in. What would we even talk about? Did we still have anything in common?

The day we decided to meet, I found myself at the cafe ten minutes early, anxiously tapping my fingers on the table. When Josh finally walked in, I was hit by how different yet familiar he looked. The years had sharpened his features, his hair dyed a bright yellow, his arms covered in more ink than I remembered, but his smile—the same crooked grin—instantly melted the years away.

“Y/N,” he greeted, pulling me into a quick hug, his scent instantly bringing back memories of those long summers. For once the man in front of me wasn’t the man in all the news stories or playing sold out shows–he was just Josh. 

“Hey.” I smiled, feeling his arms wrap around me before we split off and sat into the cozy chairs on either side of the little coffee table I’d chosen. We talked about everything, our old friends, our lives since high school, and then, after what felt like hours of catching up, Josh cleared his throat and leaned forward.

“So… there’s actually something I need to ask you. And I’m aware of how ridiculous it might sound,” he started, looking almost embarrassed. “But I really need your help and I didn’t know who else to ask.”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Go on…”

Josh took a deep breath. “The media’s been relentless since the breakup, and it’s getting hard to deal with all the rumors and speculation. My management team suggested that if I was seen… with someone else, it might get them off my back. Temporarily, at least.”

It took a moment for his words to sink in. “Wait, are you saying… you want me to be your girlfriend?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I want you to pretend to be my girlfriend. I know it’s a huge ask, but we’ve known each other forever, and I trust you. I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing this with anyone else. It’d only be for a little while, just until things die down.”

I sat back, processing the situation. Fake dating Josh? I mean, it wasn’t like it was unheard of for celebrities to stage relationships for the media. But me? I wasn’t exactly a part of his world anymore. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to be. But the look in his eyes—vulnerable, pleading—told me this wasn’t just a PR stunt for him. He needed this.

“Okay,” I found myself saying, surprising even myself. “I’ll do it.”

His eyes lit up in relief. “Really? You will?”

I nodded. “On one condition—this doesn’t get weird. We’ll stay friends, no matter what.”

Josh grinned, a hint of his old mischievous self returning. “Deal.”

And so, the charade began.

The first few weeks were awkward, to say the least. Paparazzi seemed to follow us everywhere, and we had to carefully choreograph our interactions—just enough affection to seem real, but not too much to make it uncomfortable. Josh would hold my hand in public, drape his arm over my shoulders during interviews, and we’d smile for the cameras as if everything was perfectly natural. 

The Paramore show was supposed to be one of the easier ‘dates.’ At least, that’s what I told myself as we entered the packed arena. The buzz of excitement from the crowd, dressed in a mix of colorful costumes and band tees, should have distracted me from the knot tightening in my stomach. Josh seemed at ease, smiling and waving to fans who recognized him as we made our way to the VIP area just above the main floor. But even then, I could feel the weight of the act hanging over us.

As the lights dimmed and the band took the stage, I felt Josh move closer, his arm casually draping around my waist. It was a simple gesture, one that would seem natural to anyone watching, but the second his hands slid to my hips, something inside me tensed. He wasn't doing anything inappropriate, but the intimacy of it felt wrong. I wasn’t his girlfriend—I was playing a part—and this level of closeness blurred lines I wasn’t ready to cross.

I glanced up at him, hoping to catch his eye, maybe give him a silent cue to ease up. But he wasn’t looking at me. His gaze was fixed straight ahead, lost in the music. For a brief moment, I almost forgot the cameras were on us, the spotlight that wasn’t really ours pressing in from every angle. Then, he leaned down, his breath warm against my ear.

“Look at the camera,” he murmured, his voice low, almost too soft to hear over the music.

I stiffened. Even here, in this moment, we were still performing. I darted my eyes across the crowd, picking out the nearest lens trained on us like vultures waiting for scraps. I swallowed hard, forcing a laugh that sounded hollow to my own ears.

“Now laugh,” Josh added, his voice almost playful, but it grated on my nerves. Then, without warning, he pressed his lips to my neck, an action that was too intimate, too calculated for comfort.

I jerked back slightly, lifting my heel and grinding it down on the tip of his shoe—not enough to hurt, but enough to send a clear message.

“Watch it,” I muttered under my breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

Josh’s grip on my hips loosened immediately, his hands retreating as if he'd touched a hot stove. “I’m watching it,” he replied, his tone smooth but with a hint of defensiveness.

“You better be,” I shot back, trying to sound stern, but the words came out shaky. I didn’t know if I was warning him or myself. Still, a smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth, a reflex that came from trying to play it cool, even though everything about this felt far from easy.

He caught the smirk, his eyes finally dropping to meet mine, and for a split second, something unspoken passed between us. Annoyance, frustration—maybe a bit of amusement at how absurd this whole thing had become. But whatever it was, it was fleeting, buried under layers of whatever we were pretending to be.

“You’re a terrible actress,” Josh teased, his lips twitching into a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Maybe I just don’t like my co-star,” I shot back, but there was no real bite to the words. If anything, the tension between us had only grown more complicated. I wasn’t sure if it was the act, the pressure of being watched, or something else entirely, but it left me feeling raw, exposed in a way I didn’t expect.

Josh’s smile faltered, and for a moment, he looked like he might say something more, something real. But instead, he just nodded, his gaze drifting back to the stage, leaving me standing there, caught between wanting to scream at him and wanting to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

As Paramore's set continued, we went through the motions—laughing, leaning into each other, playing the part. But beneath it all, there was a tension neither of us could ignore. The lines were blurring too much, and the more we tried to act like this was all just a game, the more it felt like we were both losing.

After a few weeks the articles started to slow. Things were slowly getting easier between us and we’d even managed to get a couple paps to catch us kissing. One afternoon, Josh invited me to a small gathering at Tyler’s place. It was supposed to be low-key, just the three of us hanging out—no cameras, no staged displays. Tyler had always been a grounding presence for Josh, and I wasn’t surprised when Josh mentioned he’d already told Tyler about our fake relationship.

“I want you to meet him,” Josh had said with a hint of pride. “He’s my best friend. And, well, it’ll feel a little more real if you’ve met him, right?”

So there I was, sitting in Tyler Joseph’s living room, sipping iced tea, and trying not to overthink everything. Tyler was exactly as I imagined—easygoing, warm, with a dry sense of humor that kept the conversation light.

At one point, he leaned forward, eyeing me with curiosity. “So, Y/N, Josh tells me you’ve known each other forever.”

I nodded, glancing at Josh, who was sitting beside me on the couch, fiddling with the string of his hoodie. “Yeah, high school. We were in the same friend group, used to hang out all the time.”

Tyler smirked, clearly aware of the irony. “And now you’re in a PR relationship.”

Josh groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Don’t start, man.”

Tyler chuckled but didn’t let it go. “Nah, I’m just curious. I mean, you two seem pretty comfortable around each other. Doesn’t look that fake to me.” He raised an eyebrow, watching as Josh and I exchanged a quick, nervous glance.

“We’re just good actors,” I said quickly, trying to keep the tone casual. “Right, Josh?”

Josh nodded, but the smirk on Tyler’s face told me he wasn’t buying it.

“Look, I’m just saying,” Tyler continued, leaning back in his chair. “Sometimes these things have a way of turning into something else. Just make sure you both know what you’re getting into.”

It was a harmless statement, but it lingered in the air long after the conversation moved on. I found myself glancing at Josh more often, wondering if there was any truth to Tyler’s words. Did we know what we were getting into?

As the evening wound down, Tyler gave me a knowing look before we left, almost like he’d seen something we hadn’t.

A few days later, Josh and I were walking through a park near his place, taking a break from the media frenzy. The crisp autumn air had a way of making everything feel a little clearer, and I found myself wanting to address the strange tension that had been building between us.

“Tyler’s not wrong, you know,” I said quietly, breaking the silence.

Josh glanced at me, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“About this. About us.” I waved a hand between us. “I know we agreed this wouldn’t get weird, but… doesn’t it feel like things are changing?”

He stopped walking, turning to face me fully. His expression was unreadable, and for a moment, I wondered if I’d said too much. But then, he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” he admitted softly. “At first, it was just this… fake thing. But now, being around you again, it doesn’t feel fake anymore. I don’t know what to make of it.”

The honesty in his voice made my heart skip a beat. I swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “Josh, I don’t want to complicate things. We’re friends, and I don’t want to lose that. But lately… I’ve been feeling things I wasn’t expecting.”

Josh stepped closer, his eyes searching mine. “I feel it too,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I don’t know what that means for us.”

I could feel the space between us shrinking, the air heavy with unspoken tension. My mind raced with a million thoughts, but none of them made sense anymore. All I knew was that the line between fake and real had blurred beyond recognition, and we were standing at the edge of something neither of us had planned for.

“What do we do?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly.

Josh reached out, gently taking my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “We figure it out,” he said softly. “Together.”

I looked up at him, my heart pounding as I realized that whatever this was, whatever it would become, we were in it together. The charade was over—this was real now.

But as real as it felt, there was still the looming pressure of the media, the world watching our every move. And even as Josh’s fingers laced with mine, I couldn’t help but wonder how long we could keep this new reality to ourselves before the outside world caught up.

//

REQUESTS OPEN

[slaymitchabernathy]

Aristocrats

The Nightingale townhouse is filled with the sound of laughter, fellowship and cutlery clinking together as they drink to a prosperous future.

A future for the adults, Mr. and Mrs. Snow and Mr. Nightingale. And their children.

Both sets of parents are chuckling as they reminisce on their younger days spend roaming the Academy halls, the most prestigious school one can send their child to. Their children will attend of course, following in the footsteps of their parents.

Mrs. Snow smiles as she brings her glass of wine to her lips, “I do believe Glen bested you when it came to swimming Crassus.”

Crassus Snow who is known to be a man of authority shoots his wife a playful look, a look only reserved for her before responding, “Well that’s because I could keep my eyes off you darling. Every time I came up for air, I was looking for you.”

Glen rolls his eyes as he traces the rim of his own glass which contains bourbon, “You were a worthy opponent Crassus.” Before anything else can be said, a loud commotion can be heard outside in the backyard.

All three adults are quick to rise on their feet when they hear the sound of the back door slamming open, accompanied by the shrieks of their children.

Arguing.

As they all make their way to the back of the house, the argument only grows louder. “…I did not! You said it was my turn and you lied to me!”

When rounding the last corner, Mrs. Snow is the first to lay eyes on her son, Coriolanus who’s wrapped up in a rather tense argument with Glen Nightingale’s daughter, Soarynn. Both children appear to be slightly dirtied, with her son’s pants containing several stains and his leather shoes showing off some new scuffs.

Soarynn’s pink dress is slightly ripped and the pink ribbon in her hair has come undone. Neither of them seem to take notice of the adults until Crassus speaks up, “What on earth has gotten into you two?”

Both children straighten up when hearing the loud voice of Crassus Snow and both of them manage to give their parents somewhat guilty looks before Coriolanus takes charge in answering his father’s question.

“She started it! She pushed me which means she started it!”

At only seven-years-old, Coriolanus is quick to place the blame on others. Mrs. Snow often worries about her son and his tendency to blame others rather than himself. And it’s harder when he’s around younger children such as Soarynn. She’s not much younger at only five-years-old, but she’s also a girl which makes everything so much more complicated.

Soarynn huffs and raises her chin high as she crosses her arms.

“Ladies do not start fights but they can finish them.”

All three adults share knowing smiles at Soarynn’s response. Glen Nightingale is a kind man who’s done a splendid job at raising his daughter alone, but it seems that Soarynn has some spunk in her and it often comes out when she’s around Coriolanus who tends to boss her around. Or well, he at least tries to boss her around.

Mrs. Snow bends down so that she’s at eye level with both children, “I don’t much care to hear who started or ended the fight. What I’d like to know is what caused the fight in the first place.”

Both children exchange a small glance before Soarynn sighs, “He wouldn’t let me have a turn on the swing. And he promised to give me a push too!”

Tears mist in Soarynn’s eyes and Mrs. Snow is quick to pull out a handkerchief to dab the child’s eyes, “It’s alright darling. Coriolanus, why didn’t you give Soarynn a turn on the swings?”

Coriolanus rolls his eyes and puts his hands on his hips, “Because at the Academy we don’t have to wait, we have lots of swings.” Soarynn glares up at him, “Well I can’t go to school until I’m six. How was I supposed to know that?”

Well, she has him there.

Mrs. Snow manages to get both children to apologize to one another although she doubts they’re being as genuine as she’d like them to be. Either way, the problem is resolved.

꧁ ꧂

“Honey, why don’t you play the piano for Mr. and Mrs. Snow?”

Soarynn glances up from her spot on the floor at her father before looking over at the piano that sits by the front window. “I want a cat,” she says. Glen sighs and gives her a small smile, “If you do well at your next piano recital then I will buy you a stuffed animal cat. How does that sound?”

Soarynn bites her lip for a moment before shaking her head, “It’s not the same daddy. I want a cat. With whiskers. Arachne has a dog, so we should get a cat.”

Coriolanus who’s also lying on the floor, glances up from his book and wrinkles his nose, “Arachne is mean.” Soarynn shoots him a look, “She’s mean to you. Not to me. And I want a cat.”

Glen simply shakes his head and takes another sip of his bourbon, “Maybe we can talk about cats later.” Soarynn nods and goes back to playing with her dolls, seemingly pleased with the deal she’s struck with her father.

Both children seem to have calmed down from their fight but their parents kept them in the living room just to be safe. They didn’t need anymore tears.

“I’ve heard of some disturbances in Thirteen Crassus, is everything alright in your neck of the woods?” Glen asks his friend who gives him a tight lipped smile, “We’re perfectly fine in Thirteen. Just some rebels trying to stir up trouble.”

Both Soarynn and Coriolanus share a worried look as they listen to their fathers speak about business. The Snows do their business in District Thirteen whereas the Nightingales do theirs in Two. But there’s been more and more talk about issues with rebels.

“I’m sure it’ll all be resolved before we know it,” Mrs. Snow says, giving her husband’s leg a reassuring pat. He nods and squeezes her hand, “You’re absolutely right darling. There’s nothing to worry about.”

꧁ ꧂

“Thank you for dinner Mr. Nightingale.”

Glen smiles down at Coriolanus and shakes his hand, “Of course Coriolanus. Thank you for coming.” He looks down at his daughters who’s clinging to his leg, nearly hiding from their guests at this point. “What do you say to Coriolanus honey?”

Soarynn looks up at her father and pouts but Glen simply raises an eyebrow which tells her that this is not an argument she can win. Soarynn takes a deep breath before speaking to Coriolanus, “Thank you for coming Coriolanus. It was nice to see you again.”

Coriolanus simply nods, “Thanks.”

Mrs. Snow chuckles and runs a loving hand through her son’s hair, “Oh you two will make a good match indeed.” The children exchange curious glances but neither of them ask a question as their parents say their goodbyes.

Coriolanus thinks it was a bit odd for his mother to say that as they get into the car but he shrugs it off. The last thing he hears before the door closes is Soarynn asking her father for a cat once again.

He makes a vow right then and there to stay away from her and her cat should she ever get one. He already doesn’t really like her so a pet can only be worse.

And Soarynn is no lady.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[lightsoutletsgo]

Congrats on 500 followers! Such an exciting milestone! Can I ask for a celebration ship (ideally 2 lol)? I’d describe myself as introverted, intellectual, and a walking shitpost lol I love music (literally all kinds), books (I have a booktube channel), coffee, video games, and touching grass. I’m plus size and I go to the gym everyday and I’ve been doing archery for almost 25 years (I’m not as old as that makes me sound; I’ve been shooting for most of my life) and I am an Olympic-style competitor (I’m not good enough for the Olympics yet, but a girl can dream). I have a degree in English lit/creative writing and I work in the legal field. My friends would describe me as the dependable one, the one who always shows up, the one who gives the beat hugs, and the one most likely to go to war on their behalf. In a partner I look for someone I can laugh A LOT with, someone who can talk about literally anything and who is interested in lots of things, and someone who REALLY likes cuddling.

Thank you so much in advance! Your work is so good and I’m so excited to keep reading. Here’s to another 500!

🏹 anon

hello love! thank you so so much for sending in your request! omg you sound so interesting and cool 😭 I really had to do a little thinking about who I was gonna put you with 👀 but I think I got it? happy reading! mimi

LEWIS HAMILTON ᝰ.ᐟ₊ ⊹ - calls you darling and love - loves, loves, LOVES your thighs! they're so cosy and comfy. he's also obsessed with your hips - his love language is physical touch and acts of service - nothing he loves more than a cuddle session with you and he is a firm believer that there's nothing a cuddle can't fix

as an athlete himself, lewis knows how much time and dedication you have to put into becoming one of the best and so he loves supporting you on your journey for that. he comes to as many practices and competitions as he can and he loves to offer up his physiotherapist for you to use too! of course now and again he loves to try things out himself and rather annoyingly it doesn't take him long to get the hang of it! of course it's always nice seeing his arms and hands flex when he tries so do you actually mind?

the two of you spend plenty of evenings listening to music together whether it's new tunes on spotify or golden oldies on vinyl. lewis loves to gently tap out the rhythms on your hands and hips as he holds them and it's easily a soothing motion that helps if you ever get overwhelmed while out with him.

lewis understands that your job can be stressful and so he loves to help you unload as much as he can at the end of the day. if he's far away he's right there on facetime, smiling at you as you cuddle with roscoe on the couch and rant to him. or if he's in person, he's offering a back massage, shoulder massage, starting to make dinner and telling you to go an shower the day away while he puts your cosy clothes in the dryer.

"love?" lewis emerges from the garden where he's been doing a light workout, "where'd you go?" he's not concerned at the lack of response, he knows you've had a lot of work you've been focusing on lately and so he surmises you've probably fallen asleep somewhere. roscoe is nowhere to be found either, having grown bored of watching lewis' workout halfway through and plodding back into the house, so lewis knows he'll find the two of you curled up either on the couch or the bed.

walking through the living room, the couch is empty and so he heads straight for the bedroom. he quietly opens the door, smiling to himself at the sound of your heavy breathing and roscoe's snoring. he closes the door and showers as fast as he possibly can. his body craving yours and needing to be close to you. once he's showered, he emerges into your shared bedroom once more, pulling his sweatpants on and carefully sliding into bed behind you. wrapping an arm around you, you shift in your sleep, nose wrinkling slightly as you're disturbed. it doesn't take more than a soft 'shhh' and kiss to the head from lewis before you're settled once more, body naturally wriggling closer to him a little more as you seek his body heat. lewis closes his eyes with a happy hum. this is his favourite place.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

CHARLES LECLERC ᝰ.ᐟ₊ ⊹ - calls you mon amour or mon ange - charles loves your smile! whether it's your soft half-asleep smile first thing in the morning or a massive grin that greets him when he gets home after a long triple-header - his love language is quality time - he could spend hours praising you for the smallest things, just to watch the way you melt and flourish under his love and adoration. to him, you're a goddess!

charles loves that you're his shy little bookworm! he's that much in love with you that he's turned one of the big windows of his monaco apartment into your reading nook; complete with cosy chair, shelves, lighting and a small coffee table with a mug warmer to keep your coffee at the right temperature all the time! one of his favourite ways to pass the time when he's home is to sit and play piano while you read. he tells you it's a good exercise in practicing different styles and emotions of song. he'll ask you what mood the scene you're reading is and start playing accordingly.

he loves to watch you make videos for your youtube channel and often adds his opinion. your followers love it so much that it turns into a regular weekly segment on your channel! charles is in awe that your degree is in creative writing and is summoning up the courage to ask you to write a bedtime story he can gift and read to his niece for her birthday.

he knows you're the dependable friend, he sees it in the way you are with the people around you. but he also knows that that can sometimes be a little tiring and difficult when you yourself are struggling and so he becomes your dependable person. he loves being able to do the little things for you to make it easier.

the rain gently patters against the window of your apartment as grey clouds roll over the harbours of monaco. but here in your apartment with charles, it's warm and cosy and homely. it's a rare weekend that he's home and you've been spending time existing together. you've been reading while he plays piano, a new composition brewing in his head and now in his phone voice memos but now a sleepy atmosphere is settling over the apartment.

charles leans against the big L-shaped couch as you lay in-between his legs. his hands gently run up and down your sides as you lazily hum the tune he was playing barely five minutes earlier. he lets out a breath of laughter and smiles down at you, one hand coming up to stroke your head as you tilt your head up. he stares at you for a moment, just enjoying having you in his lap. his finger gently traces your face. across your cheeks, up your nose, across your bottom lip. he grins at you, completely lovesick as your eyelashes flutter shut and you sigh. leaning down he kisses you softly once, then again and once more.