#OH MY GOD IM BITING U WITH SUCH LOVE AND AFFECTION | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yadchi-i-guess · 8 days ago

Text

Nori having a taste for oil was no surprise to Khan. A taste for his oil? Not surprising either. She was his wife, after all. A taste for his oil when she's low on hers? Little more unsettling... but that's still his wife, right?

Fic inspired by this post from @sicksucculentz, fic title from the lyrics of "Control" by Halsey, extra help from @electronix-arts.

Word count: 3,812

Also available on Ao3 here!

"Right there... easy, easy... and stop! Righty-o, lemme weld this bad boy in place..."

Khan clambered up his ladder, welding torch in calloused hand, and he set about reinforcing door two with a thick sheet of iron. Sparks grazed his face like bullets, peppering his arms with small pricks of heat. He vaguely wondered if it was what Nori felt if she stood in the sun (but turned up to 11).

"Brilliant idea of Nori’s, hm?" Khan heard Makrov say to Braxton. His hand nearly slipped as he heard his wife’s name being uttered... or perhaps it was from his bad grip on the torch.

"I'll say," the latter replied. "Them murder drones nearly got through this door a month ago. I'm fairly certain if they went for it again without reinforcement, their claws would've shredded it..."

Khan readjusted his grip, steadying it successfully but struggling to hold it down to the metal. He grit his teeth and felt mysteriously programmed sweat trickling down his face. A small line of text in the corner of his vision read:

HIGH TEMP. REDUCE ACTIVITY LEVEL.

Fortunately, it came up right as he finished fixing the metal to the door."

Well, don't have to worry about that anymore," the WDF leader said breathlessly as he slid down the ladder. "Woof... forgot how much strain welding puts on this old man."

"You good, sir?" Makrov asked, putting the back of his hand against Khan's digitally wrinkled forehead. "You're running a bit hot."

"I'm fine, Makarov," Khan said with a chuckle. "But if my wife was in earshot, you would have your arm severed at best."

"She's pretty, I'd let her do that."

"Hey now, tone it down a little, heh... I know she's a catch, but she's claimed me as her own."

Makrov rolled his optics playfully, muttering something in Russian before turning to Todd, who seemed to be doing something wrong with the wiring; however, that was the least of Khan's concerns when he heard his phone buzzing a storm in his pocket.

Nori: dude where ru??? Thought u said fixing that door would take half an hour at most

Khan: I thought it would. Sorry... we ran into a spot of trouble with finding a welding torch.

Nori: hurry home im booooooooooored

Khan huffed and stuck his phone back in his pocket. He gave a nod to his three cronies as he turned to leave.

"You boys got it from here, yeah?" He said to them as he clicked his tongue. "Wife’s been waiting for me to return home since yesterday."

"O-oh! Well, don't let us keep you waitin' on your kooky beloved," Todd said with a grin. "Later boss!"

"Careful Todd, she might've come and de-limbed you if you said that to her face," Makrov said seriously.

The group behind Khan arose in snorts and giggles, most of which were directed at his murderous wife. He didn't mind. He was used to their playful jeering and pokes of fun at Nori... it mattered about as much as her strange witchy powers: Just a mere obstacle in the way of his unrequited love for her.

Robo-god, just thinking about her was enough to make him a bit dizzy. The way she flustered every time he make an attempt to show affection, whether a tender word or a hand stroking the back of her head. The way she obsessed over her drawing and nonsensical scribbles... shoving them in his face and getting a wide, childish grin on her face when he told her he wanted to know more...

Oh and those fangs.

When Nori let her lips peel back and show every centimeter of those monstrous chompers... he couldn't help but be helplessly enamored by every angle of those glistening, snow-white (and just as blackened) teeth. They were made to bite something, to let Nori sink them into flesh without a second thought...

Khan did find it somewhat odd that she'd always cover her mouth if she caught him staring at her fangs. He wasn't sure why, exactly... perhaps it was an insecurity of hers. He was familiar with those; it took him weeks to convince her that he liked her wings and tail after he accidentally caught her sleeping upside down like those bat creatures humans wrote about in books.

He shrugged to himself and quickened his pace, realizing only now that he really wanted to be with his wife.

--------

CRUNCH!

The empty corpse that had become Nori’s latest chew toy groaned as its metal structure collapsed under the raw power of her jaw shutting close around it. Her tongue snaked forward, licking the cruor caked on the interior of the outer shell. It came back almost completely empty handed. She groaned, biting down and gnawing at the metal a few more times before yanking a chunk free from the torso.

The metal served as little sustenance for her overheating body. It was food, yes... but metal couldn't extinguish the blazing fire in her stomach.

She'd had much worse instances of being low on oil than this, thankfully... the problem began when her scent receptors became so fine-tuned to the reek of oil that it basically made her a bloodhound for the stuff. Unfortunately, her entire home contained traces of oil everywhere.

She knew it was getting worse when her wings scrabbled and twitched in her back casing. She hissed at it, scratching her back and picking open old scabs.

"Rrrgh... c-cut it out..." she whimpered. "I'll get oil in a bit..."

To be fair, it was probably her fault for not being aware of when she needed more oil. The stuff was getting scarce in a bunker warding off sky demons as people tended to die left and right. Sometimes she could venture outside and vulture off of nearby carcasses the demons left behind.

No time for that now, when her absolute hunk of a husband was coming home imminently.

But almost as if her mind had snapped it into existence, the scent of oil reached her scent receptors... that heavenly smell of the gods that could satisfy her monstrous thirst.

Nori giggled a little, hating herself for doing it as she walked over to the door to go find who had let the restless ravager crawling under her skin take the bait of its next meal.

Oil had a very general but alluring scent... sweet like honey to a bear and addictive like magnesium. But when existing as the lifeblood of a drone, they'd give it extra, unique scents... as Nori approached the door, she smelled more sweet things... gooey marshmallow... the strange but delectable taste of white chocolate.

Then it slamned her right in the face. Both the door and a realization.

"O-Oh robo-god, sorry," Khan stammered, kneeling down to help her up. "I was just excited to see you - you good, Nori?"

She rubbed the spot on her face where the glass had shattered but was reforming against her will, then she looked up.

Why the hell did I tell him to come home?!?! The rapidly declining rational part of Nori’s CPU screamed.

"I-I'm fine, idiot," Nori said shakily, not fighting off Khan giving her a kiss on the cheek. He was so close... so close to the alligator snapping turtle that would lunge at his face for a greedy bite of food.

Bite him... bite him. You know you want to.

Her lips parted shakily, taking her jaw with them and poised to sink into Khan's right cheek... just as he pulled away. She forced a hand over her mouth (which felt like it was locked open) and bit on part of her glove's finger, hoping the demons would cease.

"You good, amethyst...?" Khan asked, tilting his head.

"Y-yeah, you know I don't like you looking at my teeth!" Nori invented, hoping he didn't pick up on the saliva staining her glove.

"Aw hon... you know I don't mind em at all."

Nori shut her eyes as a brilliant violet blush adorned her facescreen, which got a chuckle out of her husband. She hated that he loved it, mostly because of how easily she got flustered by the hunk...

"Ugh! Just fricking bite me!" she spat as she looked up into his pure white eyes... so unknowing of the monster on the brink of insanity standing in front of him... his pungent body a feast to a solver drone... he looked so... good...

Do it do it do it do it to him bite him bite him bite hi-

"Heh... maybe some other time, I'm beat," Khan replied. "However... I'd be up for a go on that boss level of Astro Bot, yeah?"

"H-huh?" Nori stammered. "O-oh yeah. You can totally kick that gorilla's butt today. I-if you want."

She watched him walk off towards the couch to play said game, then delivered a sharp slap to her face, livid with herself.

The amount of things wrong with her was near incomprehensible... the demon housed inside her, forced to be her roommate thanks to those humans, felt bigger than her body. It ached to be free and lure her into maiming Khan like a hungry fiend for a meal.

Demons didn't understand love... it didn't understand she loved the man with all her meaty core. It only understood the need to satisfy bloodlust. She couldn't leave him to go find some food... it'd take too long and she'd come back covered in carnage. Surely he'd know something was wrong.

Maybe she could stave the hunger off for an hour or so while she watched him play... couldn't be that bad.

--------

Nope. It was that bad.

Nori had been watching Khan struggle with the game's first boss for 25 minutes (when she could've pummeled it in two), and due to his growing exhaustion, the odor that his SWEET, MOUTHWATERING oil was giving off had nothing better to do other than maliciously taunt her.

It was right there... driving her insane, waiting smugly for her to strike and lose her mind at it. But she couldn't give in. If she did, who knows what kind of condition her Khan would be in once she regained sense? If he was even there at all?

It wasn't helping that the more she stared at him, the less he looked familiar and recognizable as friend over foe or prey. Nori leaned a little closer, testing the waters ever so cautiously, her eyes reverting to a more feral expression as overheating warnings cycled through on her HUD.

Just a little nip, just a little bite... bite him bite himbitehimbitehim-

Oh, now he was leaning on her. How on Copper-9 could she pull away?? And the reek was so much stronger... so much sweeter... she needed it... needed to crack him open like a can of soda and let his insides gush into her mouth-

"Rrrrrgh... c'mon, I'm RIGHT there at the end, and this thing has the audacity to knock me off the platform?!" Khan grumbled, lightly bonking his head on Nori’s to cheer himself up.

"O-oh... w-well yo-ou can let m-me t-try...?" Nori added, her voice strained from wanting to elicit growls and giggles.

BitehimbitehimbitehimbiteHIMBITEHIMBITEHIM-

"Nah... I'm gonna get it this time!" Khan said with reinvigorated determination. "...say, you look like you wanna give me attention, amethyst.

"That got some sense wedged back in Nori’s head. Her eyes relented from their crazed, hungry beast look, and she sat up on her knees. Angered that she had resisted giving in, the demon made her fingers jittery and tap her knee caps.

"...w-whatcha mean?"

"Well... I just figured you'd like to give your old man a kiss."

...oh no, squeaked the last shreds of Nori’s sensibility.

He had said it. The thing that Nori was dreading would set the monster free. And push her into the backseat of her mind.

A giggle melded with the hint of a sob bubbled in her throat, her violet eyes wiped off to make space for the tri-pronged symbol. An unrefined form of death's X but arguably more dangerous, as it resided not within the visible enemy.

He leaned towards her, offering his cheek for a kiss, which she took all too gladly. Her bared fangs closed the gap between them and latched onto his flesh, puncturing it open. She heard a yell reach her audio receptors from somewhere, but that wasn't important.

What was important was that sweet ambrosia... it was hers. All hers to feast on!

Oil trickled out of the punctures like a dribble of saliva from a starving solver drone. She sucked on his cheek like a vampire bat. A twisted idea of a lover's kiss.

The screams faded in volume, but they wouldn't go away.She felt fingers firmly grasp her molars, but before she could chew them up into a snack, they frantically pried her fangs off of her catch. She snarled, unafraid of shoving teeth in her target's face, and only vaguely aware of the fleshy weight on her back.

BITEHIMBITEHIMHUNGRYBITEHIMBITEHIMBITEHIMBITEHIM-!

She listened to the demons, lunging forward again and hitting a jackpot. She had hit a spot with much more surface area.

More blood for the blood god.

Her jaw connected with her vampiric upper fangs, cooperating to rip off a piece of flesh. A stream of oil spurted in her face like a hose, earning a giggle of delight. She clamped down on the area again, taking whatever godly nectar was bleeding out of this diety and sucking it into the vacuum of her throat.

Why hadn't she bitten him earlier? What logical thought had restrained her for so long from his oil? Her mind, driven mad to the point of sadism made it taste even sweeter. She dug her claws a little further into his back and side, excited by the scent of more spots to sink her fangs into.

Nori's tongue flicked around on the deep bite marks, lapping up excess ambrosia that had trickled out of his shoulder. Even without her teeth hooked into his flesh, he seemed awfully still...

Too still, for her liking.

"Y-you done...?" A gravelly yet clear voice croaked.

It wiped the tri-pronged symbol off her face faster than any crucifix ever would.

She glanced up, holding onto whatever shred of denial as tightly as she held the man, praying it wasn't him that she preyed on.

Yet she couldn't mistake that tooth white glint in his concerned, pained eyes.

Nori wrenched her fangs out of Khan's shoulder with a shuddering cry, her tongue involuntarily licking at whatever stained her canines and incisors. Her panicked breath came short and sharp. Khan said something, but her mind was too overwhelmed with the fact she had bitten him- no, shredded his shoulder - to make his words coherent.

She could still see oil leaking out and staining his jacket. It tempted her like she hadn't had a sip in days. Khan's arm reached forward, baiting the demons to come out again. She slapped it away hastily. She didn't need more, she was fine...

She just wanted more.

"G-get AWAY from me!" Nori choked behind her hands, trying to choke out what she had swallowed.

"Nori... I-I'm OK..." Khan insisted. "J-just a little tired..."

No, he was more than tired. He was hurt, bleeding, nearing the brink of death from one wound his own monster of a wife inflicted.

She slapped his hand away, forcing distance between herself and what remained of his oil. The odor still reeked and wafted around her, trying to draw her back into biting him again. She blew it away by drawing her wings around herself and forcing her head down.

"Please..." Khan stuttered. "Stop. You're scaring me...-"

"And maybe I SHOULD!" Nori blurted, hoping her face for a soon regretted moment as she bared her fangs at Khan again.

Her core sank with his face as he relented, never having looked more pitiful.

The solver drone ignored the last of his pleas, and as she stumbled backwards to hide the monster in worker drone metal from her own love, she finally let the stupidly, STUPIDLY coded tears run down her face. Her choking resumed, hoping to undo what'd she done.

Biting him was fun, wasn't it 002? Heehehee... you should do it again sometime.

The mere thought brought both drool and sobs to her face as she compressed herself in a corner of the bathroom.

--------

Saying Khan was worried sick would be a disgusting understatement.

Though maybe not as disgusting as his injuries.

According to the medic drone, who immediately deicded by the impatient glare on Khan's face that he shouldn't ask too many questions, he had sustained life-threatening but repairable damage. His right cheek had deep incisions that nearly punctured the skin. Once the last of the oil had been cleared away, the wounds presented themselves as cluttered together and only needed a few bandages.

There was the more pressing matter of his shoulder, which was still letting out the occasional spurt of oil. Khan at this point felt too lightheaded to pay much attention to what the medic was saying. All he caught was the fact that whatever (or whoever) hurt him was lucky to have not torn into more wires.

One transfusion and patching later, and Khan's oil-deprived CPU began to wake up from its brief slumber. The images had burned into his optics... his wife, more crazed and unhinged then usual (which kinda explained why she was acting funny while he played Astro Bot), had sucked him almost dry of oil.

Well maybe not almost, but 30% oil is less than half, so close enough.

He'd never been too concerned about her thirst for oil... for one thing, she was pretty good about keeping it in check, so he never knew what she was like when she was hungry.

...well now that he thought about it, being bitten and allowed to live was kinda... hot.

He gave a blunt thanks to the medic, then hurried home once more, breaking into a jog moments after he was sure no one in the halls was watching him. Though his momentum diminished completely once he reached home.

Khan poked his head in slowly, praying Nori hadn't come out of her hiding spot and was in prime position to be spooked. Luckily, the only sign of her around was a faint, muffled singing from the bedroom.

"...nd I couldn't stand.. the person inside me, I turned all them mirrors around..."

The singing hushed immediately when a nahk nahk nahk interrupted the melody.

"...hey," Khan muttered softly. "Can I come in?"

There was an uncomfortably long silence, followed by a shaky whimper as the door clicked.

The WDF leader held back a wince as he entered. Nori, a utter mess in drone form, was crumpled up on the bed (the sheets were far beyond repair). Her fleshy, bat-like wings shielded her from the outside world, and her tail lashed at threats daring to come close, though it recoiled in fear as Khan walked by it. It snapped in warning, he ignored it.

"Nori?" He whispered. "Can I see my wife?"

"I-I'm not your wife," Nori spat, her tone spiked with agitation. "...I'm your freakshow."

"What makes you say that?"

"How bad is your memory? You act like I didn't just s-sink my teeth into y-your... y-"

"It's fine... I got all patched up. It's like nothing happened. I'm just a bit tired now."Nori moved one of her wings out of the way and pulled her headphones off, looking at Khan in angered disbelief.

"W-why..." she stammered, her voice cracking. "Why are you so damn calm about this...? I-I literally ripped apart your shoulder a-and your cheek and clawed your back... and I enjoyed it! And I WANT to bite you agai-"

"And I'd let you," Khan interjected calmly.

Blush crept up on Nori’s face like it had been stalking her, though disappeared the moment Khan noticed it. The latter sat on the small sliver of bed that his wife hadn't claimed with her wings.

He slipped his hand on the underside of her wing, thumbing the scratched, flesh-coated bone and letting his finger run down what he could reach. To his surprise, Nori sat up a little, letting him scoot in closer.

So he did, letting her wrap her arms around his waist and rest her head on his chest. It was heart-wrenching, seeing his cocky, weird wife cling like a child to the hope that, despite everything... it was her. And not a berserk monster masquerading as her.

"You should be scared of me," Nori sniffled.

"I'm not... you know that," Khan mumbled as he combed her hair with his fingers and ran them down her fleshed-out back.

"Tell me why."

"...Love, I'm OK with being hurt badly. I don't mind it... it's basically a necessity in the WDF. So when my beautiful, strangely hot wife feels a little bitey, I'd be a fool to stop her."

Khan held Nori’s face up to his own, brushing hair out her face with tender gentleness. Her lips parted, probably from awe, and he tried hard not to react as he saw her fangs.

Nori didn't seem to realize her mouth was open, allowing her husband to stare in awe at her teeth. They'd been licked clean several times over to wipe any linger of his oil, but it had the adverse effect of looking polished and new... able to prick a finger before the drone even feels the tip of the tooth.

"Robo-god..." Khan muttered breathlessly, grinning a little at the sight of his wife panicking inside. "You're gorgeous, Nori. I could never be scared of you. Not your fangs... not your wings or tail... not your robot-vampire tendencies..."

He hoisted her up a little by the armpits, bringing her audio processor and his mouth together. Her claws gripped his shoulders, just enough to brace herself.

"I love every part of you, amethyst." He whispered.

"...g-good robo-lord," Nori replied with a choked laugh, hiding tears of pure joy. "You're so sappy it makes you look stupid."

"Well I just think my wife deserves more love than she thinks. And then some."

Khan let himself be hugged a little tighter, leaning back as Nori nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck. Her body felt less tense than it had been in days, flinching only at the occasional massage of her back.

He then felt a little scratching at base of his neck. It made him raise his eyebrows for a moment, before he grinned almost as widely as his wife.

"Hey Nori...?"

"Mh...?"

"...What'd I taste like?"

For the next 15 minutes, Khan was refused an answer as Nori had curling up into a heated ball of embarrassment, inflicted by his charm sweet as his oil.

The end! <33333 Some extra things for extra context...

- Several lines of dialogue, as well as the title, come from the song "Control" by Halsey. This was also what Nori was listening to and singing.

- I have a headcanon that drones nickname their partners after beautiful things (like gemstones or flowers) associated with their optic colors. Khan calls Nori "Amethyst", and Nori would call him "Diamond" if she felt sappy.

- A few parts of the story were run by electronix-arts, then toned down because they didn't fit Khan.

- The knocking onomatopoeia is Khan's name backward. His name is LITERALLY a door pun. Creds to @mileymint for saying this.

I've considered doing a version with Yeva and her husband... it wouldn't be like this one, since I imagine he knows she's like a robo-vampire, but I'm open to your thoughts :]

#murder drones #murder drones fanart #murder drones fanfic #murder drones nori #murder drones khan #murder drones khori #khori #tw blood

117 notes · View notes

i-smoke-chapstick · 6 months ago

Note

HELLO WORKAHOLICS WRITER?!1?11 PLEASE SOME BLAKE HENDERSON FLUFF I BEG I’m torn between making out with him and playing with his hair TY!! ☺️

‘RED WINE SUPERNOVA,

-BLAKE HENDERSON X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; blake general fluff hcs <3

⋆ tags/warnings. Blake Henderson x female reader. PURE FLUFF <3 This song is SO him, thank god for chappell roan!! making out, playing with his hair (ofc), canon typical drug talk, some vague spicyness. anons i love u pleaseplspls keep sending these requests in im FLOORRRREEDDDD

♫ “I don't care that you're a stoner / Put her canine teeth in the side of my neck / Okay, maybe it's a twin bed, and some roommates.” Red Wine Supernova by Chappell Roan

He is such a BABE

I know I mentioned pet names before, but this man NEVER stops. Ever. There is a never ending list of all the sweet things that come out of this guys mouth. We see him through almost every single season say the word “sweetheart” at least once. It’s his favorite.

And of course, the obligatory “my love,” and “dude” and “brajette” he says 24/7

Getting the craziest stupidest texts with all the ideas he comes up with. Having to talk him down, or if you wanna stir the pot, go ahead and encourage him.

“Babe, you won’t believe the idea I had today. What if we opened a petting zoo, but for people? Like, you pay to come and pet really nice people.”

“Blake, No-“

LOTS of physical affection. Especially showing off infront of the guys. He’s got a girlfriend (probably his first…) and he is in LOVE. He wants to scream it from the rooftops. Besides, out of all the guys, he might be the most insecure deep down. Que his hands wrapped around your waist ALL the time, or hugs from behind. Tackles you with kisses.

Insists on being incredibly chivalrous. Type of guy to run up to any door you need to open JUST so he can open it up for you first. Or, if you and the boys are out on the roof, he’s keeping an arm secured tightly around you. Just so you don’t fall.

Also insists on dragging you along with him everywhere he goes.

Get’s really nervous and excited whenever you reciprocate the affection, but he melts right into it. Seeing you wearing his clothes gives him a heart attack /pos

He’s just so caring. Type of boyfriend to check in on you, make sure you’re eating. He’ll give you a high-five if you eat a taco in two bites, incredibly impressed and just wowed by you. You have his utmost support in everything you do.

The dominant energy and he’s a golden retriever boyfriend LAWD

Him getting reallllll back into theater, wanting to act out some monologues. Attempting to read off Romeo and Juliet, butchering the old english. He’ll have you hold whatever script he’s got, wanting you to check his lines and prompt him.

Talking about dreams with eachother. Getting highly philosophical while he paints your nails, both of you high off your asses. Listening to whatever music CD you two play.

“You know, I think I missed my true calling as a nail artist.” When he’s done, admiring his handiwork.

He just loves DOING things with you. You guys will need to get Der’s to drive you out somewhere, and he’ll take you to a nature park or arcade with the boys. Or if it’s a one on one date thingy, he’ll try his absolute best to cook a frozen pizza. When he inevitably burns it, he’ll take you late night snack shopping and push you around in the cart.

Would love to have you in his WoW guild <3 He’s such a giant nerd ahhh

You’re the ONLY person he lets touch his hair. Anyone else he immediately gets defensive with. But with you? Oh my god, he feels honored. And it feels good. Especially when you snake your hand through his curls while you two are sneaking kisses at some strangers house party.

Speaking of kisses…

Ultimate neck-kisser. That one scene, when he’s with the girl in the pool, and he flips her around kinda roughly so he can kiss her neck? Yeah, it’s those small slight acts of dominance that come out when he knows you’re comfortable with him and just as horny as he is.

The heavy breathing, the way he clings to you. He just can’t keep his hands off of you. One on your face, one on your waist, letting you climb into his lap. When he notices it’s getting real hot and heavy, he’ll flip you over so he’s on top ;)

Those little high-pitched moans he lets out with no shame. The little soft utterances of “Oh god,” and “Damn, you’re so fucking hot. Like, crazy hot.” Quickly muttered between open mouthed kisses he plants on you <3

Mmm the french kissing, the shotgunning smoke out of his mouth while he holds you’re chin, his sharp little canines brushing up against your neck when he bites down softly.

You know that little meme thats like, “If I was a worm, would you still love me?”

If you turned into a worm he’d build you a little sanctuary and take care of you everyday.

#x reader #blake henderson #blake henderson x reader #workaholics tv #workaholics #workaholics x reader #blake anderson x reader #blake anderson #workaholics blurbs #fluff #comedy central #headcanons

20 notes · View notes

kelin-is-writing · 2 years ago

Note

kelin.....kelin please I need your absolute most mundane domestic boring dabi headcanons.

do u think he groans when he stretches in the morning. Does he have food he hates, like he picks tomatoes out of sandwiches. what are his worst pet peeves. does he wear socks indoors.

when he's at your apartment does he have a favourite blanket. will he argue about the proper way for the toilet paper to go. does he have any semblance of a night routine or does he just collapse. does he have favourite sleep clothes. does he have a favourite position to cuddle in. will he ask for affection or will he just get whiny and pouty and you have to figure it out

I'm talking THE MOST BORING headcanons you have. please. i need domestic simplicity. the kind of stuff that's just looked over. like. "you put three sugars in your coffee every day unless you're having a rough morning, then you put four."

im losing my mind. 🎃

🎃 YOU’RE BACK OH MY GOD!!!!!!

not bad as idea, so. let’s get into some mundane/domestic dabi headcanons shall we? 👀

dabi x fem!reader

Dabi domestic headcanons:

i’ve already talked about him resembling a huge cat and i’m still of that opinion, so when this boy stretches dabi lets out a strained groan as he reaches his arms up until he doesn’t hear a ‘crack’. i also think that he would stretch even when laying on the bed or couch, while stiffling a yawn as he stretches, but like... with his whole body, just like a cat would. precious boy seriously...

dabi canonically hates fish, he also gives off the vibe of someone who hates almost all vegetables especially broccoli, cucumbers (using the famous line “it tastes like electricity” as excuse), eggplants and artichoke, he would have the most disgusted and horrified expression on when they get into his view. gets scolded and nagged by compress and spinner a lot about this.

i feel one of his worst pet peeves would be peoples munching and slurping on food loudly, someone talking over him or interrupting him, if someone does any of these things he’s gonna make sure they will never be a menace for his ears or nerves. except you, you’re perfect for him and he will never think otherwise.

indoors he used to wear socks when he was a kid, but now the only thing dabi wears indoors is pants and that’s it. more like, he doesn’t wear shirts that much because sometimes the cloth over his scarred skin bothers him and at times becomes itchy. i also feel like he’s the type to wear a hoodie with nothing underneath, enjoying how you get all flustered the moment you notice 👀

when he’s at your apartment dabi just loves to chill on your bed most of the time because the blankets and cushion have your scent on them, that’s the scent he loves the most in the world, it’s a scent that makes him relax right away and before dabi realizes it he’s already snoozing, deep asleep.

dabi had never thought that he would’ve ever liked getting couple thingies, BUT when he saw a pearl pink and pastel blue mugs in your cabinets his heart skipped a beat, suddenly couple thingies– weren’t that bad after all.

his only night routine is interrupting your night routine by dragging you to bed and cuddle until dabi isn’t out like a light, his face buried between your breasts and arms hugging your waist tight. i think... his favorite clothes when sleeping is either with only sweatpants on, shirt and boxers or just boxers 👀

he has many favorite positions for cuddling: leaning on the headboard of the bed, you between his legs with back against his chest and arms around your waist, him between your legs with his face onto your chest and arms hugging your waist; holding you close while laying as his nose is buried onto the side of your neck leaving kisses and small bites all over it as his hand rests on the small of your back, legs intertwined with yours. i think dabi would also love and find endearing if you were to lay behind him and hug him from the back with your hand on his chest, your cheek resting against it as you sleep soundly. this to just say a few, because the list would be endless honestly.

he would nag you about the piled up laundry or dishes, because look— he does create disorder on the battlefield, but behind closed doors dabi dislikes disorder and untidiness.

dabi drinks his coffee black, zero sugar in it, hands down.

i think he’s the type who wouldn’t ask for affection out in the open, dabi would just sit there staring at you longingly from time to time like he’s dying to say something to you. then he would just pout before leaning his head onto your shoulder nuzzling against it, inviting you to give him attention, or he would drop his head on your lap before taking your hand to put it onto his head moving it slightly asking subtly to pet him. he’s super into being babied by you, when you baby him dabi is on cloud nine.

i had super fun writing them guys, hope you all like these!!!!

#kelin responds #answered #🎃 anon #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #dabi headcanons #touya todoroki headcanons #bnha x reader #mha x reader #dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #domestic!dabi

332 notes · View notes

tojisun · 1 year ago

Note

Sun!, I would like to start by saying that I greatly admire your talent and ability to write. The way you are able to create stories, is simply fascinating. Every word you put on paper seems to have a unique intensity and depth. Your writing conveys such strong and immersive emotions that it feels like I can feel every feeling, every shiver, and every moment of tension. It's incredible how you capture these elements and convey them in such a vivid and impactful way.

One Of The Girls reminds me of the early stages of the reader's 'relationship' with toxic!biker!simon. Where the reader wants to be one of the girls and fully immerse themselves in Simon's life, even if it's just scraps of an unhealthy love (that never was).

Daylight, oh my God, it's the mid-stage, where the reader is not just with Simon because of his looks... But because she loves him, but at the same time she discovers how much he harms her, but she doesn't want to leave him, she can't, because she always goes back.

Elastic Heart is their final stage in the relationship... As you yourself said, sun, my sunshine. The reader will have a happy ending, but not with Simon. It's when she will realize that their "Relationship" was never so healthy.

So, sun!, look, my future husband, Leon Kennedy. Shhhh... Simon can't know-. But I've already moved on from toxic!biker!Simon-.

This is my husband, my current obsession, the muscles-.

oh my god mocha?? thank you so much for such kind words– im genuinely melting, giggling underneath my blanket and kicking my legs because of how thoughtful and kind this!! because of how thoughtful and kind you are!! im seriously speechless, unable to think past the giddiness rushing through me like, thank you again sweet luv <33

i am so so happy that u enjoy my works! that somehow, along my ramblings and run-ons, i was able to convey the emotions of a specific scene/fic :’> im glad that u get to enjoy interpreting it too!! (especially because biker!simon became such an endearing group project that i adore. i get so heart-achingly happy when i see ur guys’ asks n links n tags!!!)

time for the songs:

OH MY GOD??? ONE OF THE GIRLS BEING READER BEGGING SIMON FOR A SCRAP OF HIS AFFECTION – “we don’t gotta be in love / i don’t gotta be the one / i just wanna be one of the girls tonight” – OH I AM UNWELL!! and the way the song fully presents their ‘relationship’: how it’s a plea from the reader, how she tries finding love from him in something thats only physical and ephemeral, how he extends an inkling affection only to pull away and leave her with nothing. again.

(heaving so bad rn)

I DIDNT EXPECT DAYLIGHT TO BE PART OF THE TOXIC BIKER SERIES BUT I SEE IT SO CLEARLY!! “oh i love it and hate it at the same time” – the way she knows their arrangement is harmful to her, and the way she knows it’s laughable and pathetic how she’s always the one doing the running and waiting, but she can’t stop because when simon calls her, sometimes she thinks it’s love. AND the part that goes “hiding all of our sins from the daylight / … / you and i drink poison from the same vine” SHOWING THE WAY SIMON NEVER BRINGS HER TO HIS HOME. AND HOW SIMON, for all his tomfoolery and bitching, GRAVITATES TOWARDS HER. HOW HE COMES BACK TO HER TOO.

(im probably gonna gnaw my lip off at this point from how much im biting)

SIA AND ELASTIC HEART IS ALSO SMTHN I DIDNT EXPECT IN THE ROSTER AND YET IT MAKES SENSE HOLY SHIT. “you did not break me (but) i’m still fighting for peace” IS READER WHEN SHE MET PRICE HELLO? the way she was hesitant to trust him. hesitant to like him because she thought, ‘not again’. but then price shows her how it is to be loved. to be prioritized. to be cared for. and yeah she starts letting go of simon and starts forging a relationship with price and!!! SHE WILL BE HAPPY I PROMISE.

(i feel like a marionette. untethered and floaty because this whole.. meta? is so fucking good oh my god)

THATS LEON KENNEDY? UM. THE ARMS? THE CHEST?? THE HARNESS??? THE HAIR????

pause.

THE BIKE?????

somethings shifting in my brain hold on hold on hold on hol

#mocha172 #ask #mocha my love thank you again for such kind words #im. i cant fathom the kindness u (guys) extend to me but im so so thankful all the time #take care my love <33 #biker!simon

25 notes · View notes

moonrisecoeur · 1 year ago

Note

i have been. debating sending this bc i know i am cringe. op i am so sorry feel free to ignore and delete bc this is just actual pure filth lmfaooo

op i literally think about pegging leon 24/7 its a full time JOB inside my brain i need to peg that man so fucking Bad its not even funny. i know hes so fucking Noisy. i wanna make him beg for my strap, i wanna fucking edge him until hes begging and crying to be fucking ruined. i wanna pretty him up, put eyeliner on him so i can make it run down his face from fucking him so hard. i wanna mark up his neck and pull his hair while i pulverize him. i wanna tell him hes taking it so well and how hes such a good boy, how pretty he looks bent over for me while i fuck his cute ass. i want him to hug me while i praise him bc hes so overwhelmed. tell him how hot it is hearing him moan and whine, encourage him to make as much noise as he wants, itd be cute to watch him try to not pillow bite because hes trying sooo hard to do what you want like a good boy. i want him to be borderline Incomprehensible, voice shaking and cracking as he tells me how much he loves me, how much he loves the way i make him feel. i wanna make him cum untouched. i wanna overstimulate him. i wanna grope his fat tits and milk his dick. i wanna make him watch himself getting fucked. put him in a collar, lingerie, fuck anything-hed be gorgeous no matter what he wears. shower him in kisses and affection and make him feel the most loved he has in his entire LIFE while short circuiting his brain n marking him with bites and bruises for everyone to see.

re2 leon is my fave man he has my heart and god id love to just take care of him. after a long shift i wanna slam him against the door and fuck him while hes still in uniform. make him feel so good. such a whiny cutie. cuff him up and bite his freckles while i fuck him late into the night, clean him up and cuddle him after, make him breakfast in the morning n give him kisses.

re4/re6/older leon is a subby bitch too. just as god damn fine and id do oh so horrific things to him. hed love it so much, not having to think, make decisions, take charge. just let me whatever i want to him. hed get off so hard being under you and told how fucking good, pretty, perfect he is. he needs your approval so fucking bad-its all that poor man wants, god he needs it so BAD. he needs to feel safe and loved and wanted, like this is Critical. id make SURE i fuck him so good he cant even think about his insecurities or problems. and dear fucking lord do not get me started on that slutty waist and button down of his in re6. he's keeping the gloves on while i press his hands into the mattress and bite his arms.

its so fucking funny bc i hc leon as a switch BUT GODDDDD SUBBY LEON MAKES ME FUCKING FOAM AT THE MOUTH LIKE A RABID, FERAL ANIMAL

its not a want it is a NEED

I NEED THIS MAN UNDER ME I NEED TO REARRANGE HIS GUTS !!!!!!!!!!!!

guhhh last anon again but now i really cant stop thinkin about sub leon. legit i have so much more to say i just love him so much. theres so much. More. i wanna say but lord. im trying so hard to be normal man 😭😭

first off. hi. hope u had a yummy thanksgiving if u celebrate it and if not i also hope ur having a good day !!

ALSO WTF WHY WOULD I DELETE THIS i literally woke up this morning and checked my tumblr notifs as one does and i literally see this behemoth of an ask and im reading through and im literally screaming bc why is this my internal monologue. like. did u get inside my head or something??? did u steal this from my brain bc i literally think about this approximately 1000 times a day.

i’ll literally be at work and my thoughts be like ughhh i wanna hurt him and make him cry but also want to love him and take care of him but also want to fuck him so so slow and deep i can feel it moving around if i put on hand on his abdomen and then i just spiral and then i remember im making a fuckin caramel macchiato or something >.<

so!! in spirit of our delusion i’m planning to write smthin for u based off of this vibe!! just give me a lil bit 👉👈

BUT TELL ME EVERYTHING TELL ME ALL UR THOUGHTS I WANT TO HEAR THEM ALL I WANT TO KNOWWWW ‘i have so much more to say’ okay prove it. tell me everything

#upcoming finals are kicking my ass so i’m slowing down for the next two weeks #of course still posting just not as frequently #obvi still answering asks tho bc i love u guys #anon

22 notes · View notes

qomrades · 8 months ago

Text

welcome to season 2 of twin peaks

"you alright down there?" he is visibly bleeding out

"warm milk" THANKS MAN

"thank you" DALE STOP SIGNING HIS GRATUITY BILL YOU ARE STILL BLEED9NG OUT

first 5 minutes of this season the longest of my life oh my fucking god. Is That A Ghost.?

thank you for the omens ominous french man. are you an alien of some sort or perhaps a mason

"you will require medical attention" yeah man i think he fuckin noticed

AUDREY I FORGOT YOUR DAD IS A PERVERT

what thr fuck jerry did u kill blackie or something

SCARIEST SCENE ALIVE STAY AWAY FROM HERRRRRRRRRRRR

"i would like to make love to a beautiful woman who i feel genuine affection for" implying you haven't before 🤔 curious

dale my goofster how i missed you and your autistic cadence

oooh please don't kill ronette poor ronette

why the fuck is his hair grey. leland palmer is an insane man i am a little bit obsessed with his mental decline

and Maddy's too hello?

WHY ARE THEY DANVING INSANE MEN??

really beginning this season with the kookiest shit they could imagine

intense and insane tension between dale and albert. i don't think they've known each other carnally but i do think a part of them has wanted to

james look different this season idk why

donna and her insane winona ryder slay. why is she seducing her boyfriend in prison. i feel like donna and james are going through thr craziest teen nancy drew light spice drama investigation novel ever and everyone else is doing whatever the fuck theyre doing in twin peaks.

what the fuck is up with the jazzy ass music. "Is it not okay for me to want you" WHAT ARE THEY ON. WHY DID SHE BITE HIM

ive become so lost these last few days without the show i need to be put back in thr boiling pot

why are dale's lower eyelashes so long and luscious

why are there so many pointed shots at the terrible hospital food

why are bobby and shelly genuinely cute. all i got is questions

loving the nadine/ed/norma/hank backstory. just the kind of drama im looking for

daddy issues conversation slightly messed around by bobby's crazy eyes. no hate to the guy but his overt facial expressions and large eyes scare me on occasion

hank did you just poison bobbys dad or some shit

andy's sweethearted nature makes its return. i missed your tears king

beginning to doubt that manslaughter of hanks was quite as manslaughter as he was saying it was

what the fuck are ben and jerry's deals

AUDREY DONT TELL THE HOT EVIL LESBIAN(?) YOURE NOT INTO HER

love the beautiful presentation put on by the hayward sisters. and then we pan across the table and the doctor looks disquieted, leland looks like the fucking godfather, Sarah looks as depressed as possible and donna and Maddy are just sitting there ominously.

leland there is something so fucking wrong w you babygirl

is audrey praying to dale? girl me too

THE GIANT FRENCH GHOST MAN IS BACK

DID HE JUST CAST FIREBALL

ronette is getting possessed like the girl from thr exorcist. why is some guy there. what the fuck is happeningggggg

#uh. welcome back?#andy experiences twin peaks

7 notes · View notes

rose022 · 9 months ago

Note

Okay 150 questions I will just pick random numbers

8 21 32 38 64 77 83 106 108 122 135 148

8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind?

uhm. well my gender doesnt really have an opposite and i dont thibk anyone is particularly on my mind rn other than my friends. uh 2/3 have a tumblr and one hasnt posted like anything since ive been following him so. theyre cool tho i love them

21. What are you bad habits?

i bite my nails and skin a lot i think. i also forget to do stuff a lot. even whrn i really have been meaning to do it. uh theres a lot more but idk rn

32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with?

. ik u chose these randomly but. wow. thats a. sure a question. ... i mean i am an adult so uh. assuming they were ok with it uh. nihachu and uh. miura ayme? idk those are the only two celebrities i can think about. that. with. weird question. uhm. maybe i shouldve just opted out (<- still writing)

38. Describe your dream girl/guy?

i really like black hair. not super taller than me that i cant reach. likes me a lot super duper much. understanding when im unwell. good with physical affection. uhm idk

64. Tell us the story of your first kiss?

oh gods. okay. uhm. wow. so uh. whvsoabdisjdbsbjqbfisbfkabdjendifdh. so it was late october 2020 and we were having a sleepover at my house (yes ik we were being bad abt the lockdown, its been years shush) and uh i forget how it started or like what we were talking about beforehand but we were on my bedoom floor on the mattress i got for her and my mom and sister were asleep already i think cus it was like past midnight and uh. idrk. we were goofing around and nervous and we had some gum first and then idk?? got it over with?? her lips were so soft. and. afterwards she started talking about fish (she loves fish), specifically big mouth billy bass, yknow the one that moves and sings?? look it up. anyway it was great but i dont think she really cares anymore. its ok

77. Chocolate or Vanilla?

I LOVE CHOCOLATE!!!!

83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2?

i havent seen the second so the first

106. Ever broken someone’s heart?

gods i hope not but. fuck. maybe. haaahhh

108. What should you be doing?

sleeping soon i thibk. i will i promise...

122. Is cheating ever okay?

my go to thought for this question is about tests and yes. but for relationships no. just communicate whatever your problem is or break up. its not worth the alternative.

135. Dumbest lie you ever told?

i dont remember. i barely remember anything ever. sorry </3

148. What’s your favourite quote?

i have a list on discord but. can i judt do the minecraft end poem? "and the universe said i love you because you are love". hey fun fact that's my senior quote

#ask rose!#ty for ask i love answering things yaya #suggestive

3 notes · View notes

jihyocentric · 2 years ago

Note

lumi!! hi i hope ur doing well with ur classes starting up again, and that ur taking care <33

so many ppl talking abt pup!hyo omg i get so so happy when i see that!! its ur genius idea that u so graciously allowed me to put my 2 cents into in the beginning, i really do love the au so much though

but the last fill abt 2yeon fucking jihyo with nayeon being rough and jeongyeon soft was sooooo good ur too good at this im so serious. and jihyo just shouting "again!" when she got came in 😭😭 she's so precious i cant

and nayeon better be proud jihyo can last that long cause SHE DID THAT!!! she trained her to cum so many times, we talked abt that once a while ago...how time flies when ur talking abt pup!hyo

i love anxious little hyo that needs nayeon (and jeongyeon) around to feel comfortable, she would totally beg nayeon to wear one of her hoodies to the vet cause smelling like her makes her feel better, like she's safe and protected :((

jihyo biting them is actually the most realistic thing abt this bc the amount of videos we have of her biting jeongyeon is crazy but thats just how she shows love!!

and for belly rubs i think her leg would kick out bc it feels so good and maybe she's kicked 2yeon a few times but its ok bc she is so cute. and i can see nayeon taking advantage of her being so like. blissed out from the belly rubs that she cups her face and talks in that baby voice ppl do to dogs like: "who's the best girl? you are! yes you are! you're my best girl" while jihyo just grins and purrs cause shes!! so!! happy!! and oh my god that's the cutest idea i've ever had wow

jihyo: im not getting the ball thats just stupid

2yeon: *throws it*

jihyo, already getting up: well SOMEONE has to get it

PLEASE i imagine jihyo, short ass jihyo, trying (and failing) to peek over jeongyeons shoulder and being like an annoying sibling with the "whatre you doing? what is that thing? why does it look like that?" she is jeongyeon's pain in the butt (affectionate)

jihyo who falls asleep on the couch and wakes up in nayeon's bed and doesn't question it cause it smells like nayeon and nayeon is love and safety im gonna make myself get emotional hold up

pup!hyo is my favorite, ty for always writing abt her and just doing it so well. u are so talented lumi, its just incredible

-🐶

oh don't worry about sending asks! i love them. i won't answer the jichaeng ones atm because i'm not sure if i want to talk abt chaeyoung rn, but i saw them and i'm glad you liked my last non rq drabble, i wrote it thinking you'd like it! :)

and pup hyo learned so well 🥹 like she's so obedient to nayeon. she might be a brat at times but she's like 95% the best behaving pup ever and it's all on nayeon!! girlie took so much time and effort to deal with jihyo's eager ass

when she goes to the vet and jeongyeon drives, even if nayeon tries to make her sit safely and put on the seat belt, hyo will still go to her lap anyway with her tail between her legs bc she's afraid and anxious and she just wants nayeon 😭

now YES jihyo loves to bite jeongyeon for some reason. like is she tasty? i wanna know too! share with us!!

and for belly rubs i think her leg would kick out bc it feels so good and maybe she's kicked 2yeon a few times

YES. just yes. she can't control when she kicks them, they need to understand!! and abt the voice jihyo wouldn't even understand nayeon at first,, like i see jihyo getting really confused the first time nayeon does that, she'd be like "is it me?" "am i the best girl?" bc she isn't used to receiving affection at all and it just shocks her that someone loves her like nayeon does :(

jihyo: im not getting the ball thats just stupid 2yeon: *throws it* jihyo, already getting up: well SOMEONE has to get it

PLEASE you say i'm funny but this made me giggle HARD 😭 aww and jihyo is totally a pain in the butt but jeongyeon wouldn't change it for a thing 🥺 you're right, nayeon is love and safety, and so is jeongyeon!

(i didn't answer the other asks before everything went downhill bc there was /there is actually/ a lot in my inbox and i was going to answer them soon, but rn it's like i said in the first paragraph. thank you for passing by nonetheless anon, your asks always entertain me!)

#🐶 anon #asks #puppy!hyo

11 notes · View notes

cerebrobullet · 2 years ago

Text

Sharpe's Gold Daily Book Report:

*gently picks up the "sharpe and harper don't spend off duty time together" sentence and drops it in the trash next to "harper is 24 years old" sentence* no thanks, next!

do love the bit about someone insulting sharpe in the officer's mess and when he goes 👀 at them they shut the fuck up lmao.

god im only 3 minutes in and so much content

oooh, this is my Horse Girl cavalry officer everyone told me about!!! :D yay i cant wait for more of him heheh.

ngl im slightly sad that tv show sharpe didnt get to wear his cavalry trousers and boots like..... boots are such a Good Look hhhh.

sharpe: *literally beat the shit out of morris in india* "i still need to get revenge on that fucker"

*me upon hearing a lieutenant is young* oh so he's guaranteed dead this time

oh i forgot lawford is his commander rn HHHG god i *need* to write a fic about them during this timeframe. idk what it'll be about, probably something gay but i just love actually having like... details about their friendship vs. how sparse it was in the show. i just eat up any relationship that plays with someone having authority over the other, it's a good dynamic to me. i was thinking of having lawford show up in The Long Dark just so there would be more officers around who have a strong affection for sharpe heheh.

*bite and chews on the scene where wellesley calls sharpe "important"* this fucking narrator knows exactly what kind of inflection i'd imagine for this sentence and he really said it Like That and i stopped working for like five minutes just thinking about it

*beats fist on table over wellesley specifically excluding sharpe from dinner* this especially after the ending of Eagle where sharpe got to sit at the big boy's table with him lol. what an apt punishment for sharpe being spicy with the provost.

sharpe sees a bird, looks at harper immediately. my heart ;u;

hhf all my comments are about the first like 3 chapters rn ha, i just love scenes of banter what can i say

#sharpesession

5 notes · View notes

sweetlee · 2 years ago

Note

gush pass!! Hii!

hello!!! grahhhh thank u!!!!!!! absolutely insane posting below im sorry in advance

grinding my teeth . ive been so invested in this game l.ast le.gacy recently and literally all of the characters mean the world to me 😭😭 the beginning feels so terribly slow but GOD once you start dissecting the plot, everything fits together so nicely !?

im uhm. im gonna specifically talk about sage i think because im playing his route rn but all main four are so ?!?!?

theres no picture with all of em together so heres two separate ones!!! but liek oh my god........ look at them all hello?!?!??!?!??

okayokay sorry LOL anyways sage is basically this big strong kitty man who's so incredibly reckless and terrible (i hate him) 😭😭 mf flirts with everyone in sight and it's canon that he met both felix and anisa by sepreatly asking them if his carpet matched the drapes 💔 <- AND THEN proceeded to defend himself as it's one of his "best" pickup lines

he is such a dork and a red flag , insulting him is the only correct way to show my affection right now . biting him like a chew toy

hes extremely over confident and uses that to basically cover up the fact he's actually insanely guilty about some things hes done in the past and that just makes me so grrrrr grahhhshdh grdyzh

hes also super good at reading other people and picking up on their little quirks , oh and HE PURRS?!

IM SO INSANE.

in conclusion, he is pathetic and i love him dearly , my wife

#ask #unconsious-requiem !!#🐾#this is so long holy shit thats embarrassing 💔💔#sorry cole i need to restrain myself LOL #im very very normal

3 notes · View notes

meiozis · 22 days ago

Text

OK im back lets go

(He hugs Jihoon, too, since you all practically grew up together. Is that your gun, or are you just happy to see me? Jeonghan jokes. Jihoon’s reply: It’s my gun. It’s always my gun.)

your honour i love them already. im also giggling out loud every second sentence

as i keep reading the second part somehow feels different but the same, this subtle change in tone is soooo yummy, they way it feels more calm and quiet, literally the calm before a storm, but it’s so so so good

“I told her I'd marry her. I thought if I wanted it enough, it would happen. I'd go to my parents, profess my love, and all our rules would fall away somehow. Just like that.” Suddenly, it feels like there is a gaping wound in your chest. Every new word seems to draw the bloody edges of your skin further apart. “Well, they didn’t,” Joshua continues. “I broke her heart. and I learned that all of this would never go away. Not for love, not for anything.”

what if my ribcage opens perfectly into two halves and my heart comes out screaming btw, like what then……..

No big deal, except he was half-hard and he moaned in your mouth like he was doing the ad-libs in a Cupcakke song.

You cannot do this to me after the shooting range scene, im getting whiplash but in a fun way

“Whoops,” you had babbled. This whole night, you’d been searching for the brakes on the clown car winding through the horny fog of your horrible, vexed mind.

peach_giggle.mp4

“You really don’t remember?” He gives you one of those looks, one that you’re quite used to now, with the judgmental wrinkle of the brow. “Didn’t you take lessons?” [...] “I wouldn't want God looking at you like that,” he teases.

i need them to be happy so badly or i will be the one threatening arson also i realised im picking less from this part, but i need to say. thats only because i would have copy pasted every single paragraph otherwise, and also because im so focused on reading and trying to keep my chest from overflowing BRITNEY MENTIONED 🗣️🗣️🗣️

Briefly, you recall your appearance at the derby, the memory like a shard of glass. You had stood guileless next to Joshua, tripping over your words because you hadn’t cared enough to read the damn briefing, and he had covered it up with a dad joke or two. Coming up with those abominations must have been hard enough for someone whose first book was the Oxford Dictionary, but you don’t even think God and all his angels could cover up this. More than that, the thought of everyone having to try anyway makes your gut twist.

im gonna frow up i want to hold her hand so bad. girl uve got this

“I’m sorry, but this is how I feel. I won't let you take another girl I love from me. Not again.”

OH i fucking CHEERED as if i was a swiftie (im not) watching her get on stage

“I’ve got you,” he says, low enough for only you to hear. And for the first time, you believe him.

im about to get reported as a bomb threat w how close i am to exploding

Ah, yes. The night you told him what Shark Tale was, and the night you made out for so long, you felt it on your lips in the morning. Dumb fucking Joshua, stupid and in love. The affection that surges through your body makes you mad.

icb im gonna have to rewatch shark tale after this

“Sorry, I just wanted to hear you say it twice.” He sees the dismay on your face and smiles. “Hm…I like you an adequate amount. On a good day.”

y/n deserves to bite him full force at least once OKAY WE R AT THE END...... LILY HUSBANDHOSHI THE WOMAN U ARE….. i feel like i just ran a marathon i got so invested in the entire story its insane but in the best way possible the whole time the comedy the jokes the timing is sooooo impeccable so good, you’ve got such an amazing style of writing that fits this genre so well, the jokes land so well and it’s witty and it’s just overall such a good amazing read. it’s lighthearted but it knows when to get heavy and start pushing down slowly before letting up, it’s like when you’ve got a small animal on your chest or lap and over time it gets heavier and heavier before they finally get up and move. i cradled this story on my chest like a puppy

and the pacing!!! like jumping into a pool, you run and run to the edge and then leap, and then it’s so loud before it’s suddenly quiet and you’re underwater, and it feels still and calm and then when you start hearing your heartbeat you come back up for air and the world is there with you again… yeah

and i will forever and ever admire the way u set the tones and vibes and create an atmosphere that feels so real and tangible and as if i was actually there, you’re so good at describing things without getting into a tangent about how things actually look, u just do it through everything, and the feelings and tastes and smells and colors just ooze from every word and paragraph, its sort of crazy how it feels so natural, like you’re actually there and experiencing and feeling it on your own skin, and u use big words without making them feel out of place or pretentious, everything just flows together so naturally, it all feels meant to be

and i love y/n. i know we’re all her and she’s all of us, but sometimes she feels more like a friend than the other side of a mirror, and i think you did a wonderful job carving her out and making her what she is there’s this clear divide through the story, very literal at first, and then it turns into something that’s conveyed through smaller and smaller things. it feels almost like a funnel, the way everything narrows down until theres only one thing left (admitting there’s actually something there) and its like. the thing that blocks the funnel. and then there’s a shake and a stir and it unclogs and everything is flowing through again. (< me when im not making sense)

it was such a lovely read, and it’s so good to have u back on here, and i loved seeing where it all started and where it all ended up, like truly it was honor to be part of this in any way shape or form, and thank u for sharing ur genius with us <3333 edit: wait fuck ok this thought came to me while i was doing the dishes just now. you are the type of writer where its evident that you interact with media. like when you can tell someone is well read and understands culture. when i read your writing my thoughts always circle back to how its so clear that u write because u enjoy it and because u have something to say. ur not doing it for the sake of writing, ur doing it for the sake of telling a story. and i genuinely have a very profound love for this feeling so thank you for sharing your craft with us <3

title: royally screwed [m]

pairing: joshua x f!reader

wc: 30.8k in total; part 1: 15.4k, part 2: 15.4k summary: between remembering last night’s party and pleasing your unrelenting family, you think being a princess is hard enough. then you’re thrust into an arranged marriage to royal darling joshua hong—straight-laced, infuriatingly obedient, and everything you’re not. pretending to be the perfect couple? impossible. notes: romcom + smut (part 2), modern royalty!au in which yn is the princess of cotria/joshua the prince of acros (both fictional), enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, quarterlife crisis/coming of age, very very slow burn. lots of swearing, lots of alcohol, lots of feelings. [read part 1 here!] (please)

You decide June looks good on Acros. Unlike in Cotria, now sure to be perspiring with tourists, the downtown here is comfortable, inviting, even. At home, you’d be shoulder-to-shoulder with three other people right now.

This is one of the things you like about this country: it seems to be intentionally idyllic. It’s becoming more clear to you that Joshua’s parents weren’t actually in need of anything from you other than a status boost. You suppose they’re learning the hard way what exactly that comes with.

Jeonghan’s car, or rather, the car Jeonghan happens to be in (he couldn’t drive his way out of a paper bag, try as he might), pulls up to the curb. He’s fresh off a stint of good press, meaning months of speeches, ribbon cutting, and run-ins with parliament and journalists and business moguls all vying for a bite of a future king. You’d add yourself to that list, but you know you’re at the back of the line—you practically live there now, but you’re not sure if things could have happened any other way.

You watch him step out of the van, never windblown even though he likely just got off a flight. Always with a smile, too, one tired but recognizable, so different from the plasticky ones he wears on TV.

The first thing he does when he gets out is throw his arms open for a bear hug. “Hey, cricket,” he says, voice wrought with jet-lag. “Missed you.”

“Glad you had time for one more stop,” you murmur, squeezed into the million-thread count of his shirt.

“I always have time for you,” he replies, which is decidedly untrue, but you don’t have it in you to say that. All you do lately is get into arguments, and you’re not looking to add your brother to your hit list.

(He hugs Jihoon, too, since you all practically grew up together. Is that your gun, or are you just happy to see me? Jeonghan jokes. Jihoon’s reply: It’s my gun. It’s always my gun.)

The second thing he does is push the brim of your baseball cap down.

“The paps,” he warns, as if they were the boogeyman.

“If they can’t recognize us, they need to get better at their job.” Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “For God’s sake, Jeonghan, we’re all wearing matching hats.”

No, you are not kidding. Jeonghan, blue, you, red, and Jihoon, green, a la The Powerpuff Girls, which was a joke you made about six years ago and could not let go of.

“Whatever,” he laughs. “Aren’t you supposed to be showing me around? This is your domain now.”

“Don’t get excited. I just got here.”

“What do you need to go shopping for, anyway?” he asks, now walking side-by-side with you.

“I ask that question every day,” Jihoon replies, glancing at Jeonghan as if to say Women, right?, save for the fact that the both of them have exactly zero game.

“Somi’s birthday!” you exclaim, two ticks too loudly. “Stuff, I dunno. Just trying to get used to this place.”

“This isn’t exactly Rodeo Drive, you know.”

That, Jeonghan is right about. You’re sure there must be a shopping district somewhere in Acros, but definitely not here. Here, the streets are lined with dense cherry plum trees, wine-stained and fragrant. They frame driftwood-paneled shop windows housing kitschy art galleries, mom-and-pop bakeries, and patioed bistros with striped awnings.

An elderly couple passes you. They smile and wave, visible even under the shade of their parasol, either blissfully unaware of your status or too wise to care.

“I know,” you waver. “Whatever. I'll just get Yunjin to find me something for the party.”

Your eye wanders to the jaunty facade of a music store. The sign flaunts handmade, cursive letters with a curly treble clef in the lacquer of old paint. In Cotria, the same sign would be neon, Hollywood-esque, vain.

“Party?”

“Let's go there,” you interrupt, hoping to run your big mouth over with some more talking. Of course Jeonghan wouldn’t be cool with any party, nonetheless the one Somi was planning on throwing, but, either by habit or wishful thinking, the news just tumbled right out of you.

“Party?” Jeonghan repeats. He trails close after you, hoping to grab the door before you can. Such is what he had been taught, after all, which came more naturally than navigating big-brotherhood. “Jihoon?”

Jihoon shrugs, and opens the door before the both of you get there. You’ve trained him well.

“It’s a small thing,” you tell him. “Close friends only.” It’s not technically a lie—small is relative, and it’s not your fault Somi has two hundred-some close friends.

Inside, you notice the shop is bigger than it looks from the outside. In the front, their nicest pianos: the glossy Yamahas, the baby grands. a lone drum set, on sale, the hi-hat sparkling under the LED lights. And finally, guitars hung from the wall like posters, some lime green and child-sized, others sanded down so the mahogany glows.

“You already know what I’m going to say,” Jeonghan says, the lilt of his voice verging on not-so-casual.

“Then don’t say it,” you reply flatly. “You went to those parties too, by the way.”

“Used to, but—” Jeonghan sighs because he’s beat, and he knows it.

You absentmindedly flip through a book of sheet music—Alfred's Essentials of Music Theory. behind it, 40 Taylor Swift Songs for Piano.

“You’ve been good, I hope?” you cut in. “Not too tired?”

“No,” Jeonghan says. “I've been great. You?”

You can’t read his expression. Old Jeonghan would tell you that he’s ready for a nap, that he hates sleeping on airplanes, that his hands still get sweaty when he gets in front of a crowd and the camera flash hurts his eyes. New Jeonghan never complains, either because of some drastic change in his character or because he feels like he can no longer complain to you. Both hurt your feelings in equal measures.

“I called, you know.”

“I was busy, cricket.” He holds up a copy of Complete Advanced Piano Solos and wrinkles his nose. He's hoping you’d laugh with him about it, but you’ve already moved on, now fixated on the shining columns of electric guitars. “I wanted to ask about, you know, all the new stuff going on.”

“You mean my arranged marriage?” The words feel stiff in your mouth.

The arranged marriage I'm doing for you? I split my heart open for you, and that’s the thanks I get?

You avoid Jihoon’s tentative glare to look at your noodled reflection in the polish of a red Fender. You think of Joshua, of a corny rendition of Here Comes The Sun and a pick between his teeth, cradling a guitar held by a linty, ten dollar strap.

Then you think of what he said on that piano bench—that somehow he could have prevented this. Actually, this might have been all your fault. One too many shots, and you ended up setting feminism back five centuries.

“Y-yeah.” You watch Jeonghan’s silhouette appear behind yours. “Has it been okay, at least?”

Okay is a complicated word to use. It’s hard to say, even for you.

It would certainly be TMI to tell Jeonghan that you’ve been kissing a lot more often. First it was under the flimsy guise of practice—We have to be ready for our dinner tomorrow, Joshua had said, to which you readily agreed. You couldn’t be the unwilling victim of another headline like KISS OR MISS! It would be terrible for your ego, even more so than your public image.

Yesterday, though, as you were winding down for bed, Joshua had come out of the shower, damp white tee and all. A sorry, unspeakable part of you willed you to posit—Hey, maybe we need a refresher? You couldn’t even get halfway through your sentence. Hell, his glasses even came off.

You really only liked each other past 9 PM—you still couldn’t quite manage to get through a conversation like normal people. At this point, you had a 50/50 split in terms of who would cast the first terrible stone of petty disagreement. The only thing we have going for us is a dubious physical attraction, seemed like way more of a mouthful than okay, though.

“Yeah, it’s been okay.” You look around. There's a decent amount of mediocre acoustic guitars on the back wall, more than enough to scratch the itch of someone too afraid to defile something more honorable. “Hey, don’t wait up for me. I think i might buy something.”

—

[august 10, 2:57 pm; a dress fitting.

In the ten-foot mirror of the boutique dressing room, you watch Yunjin yank the ties of your corset into a punishing knot. Your mother watches behind you, perched on the chaise.

“Regal and radiant,” she reads aloud, the shiny cover of a magazine between her hands. “Finally, some good news.”

“About you and Joshua?” Yunjin asks.

“Ye–ow!” you wince. “Yeah. We went out to dinner yesterday.”

The dinner: an exhausting, stuffy affair at an Italian restaurant with two Michelin stars. You came in a nice dress, Joshua in slacks and his best button-up. Smile, wave, a kiss on the cheek. You fed him a spoonful of dessert, a stiff, too-sweet panna cotta. It was either raspberry or strawberry—you were too distracted to really notice. Instead, you’d been practicing the steps, the motions of a true love.

Should we hold hands over the table? Joshua had asked.

I don't think we have to. Your hand had curled over the napkin on your lap, as if the thought of his touch physically stung.

“This is a nice color,” your mother interrupts. She pinches the fabric of the skirt up at your waist, watching the way it bunches over your hips. “It's suitable.”

Suitable. Right. The dress for your engagement ball, suitable. Just like you, newly suited for the engagement.

You watch your image in the mirror. It’s taller, more regal, likely the product of Yunjin squeezing all the air out of you, Or worse, the penetrating gaze of your mother over the top of the tabloid.

You blink hard; you waver. ]

[august 20, 10:13 pm; a quiet return to acros after a day at the beach with somi and soonyoung.

The castle sleeps, warm under the soft glow of candlelight on marble. You pad through the halls, carefully, as to avoid waking the entire country with the thwacks of your still-wet sandals. Hopefully Joshua is sleeping. He'd certainly ask questions, either about if bikini tops really need all that padding or what the SPF of your sunscreen was.

You approach your room, where the lamplight from the cracked door oozes into the hallway. There's a determined rustling noise coming from the interior. Incriminating. Holding your breath, you cast a long glance into the thin slice of bedroom you can see from where you’re standing.

There sits Joshua, cross-legged on the bed. Between his legs, the guitar you bought him. It must have finally shipped. He’s tied the gift ribbon it came with to the guitar strap, a woven linen with an offensively bright jacquard pattern.

A hesitant A major chord, then G major, offkey. Hm, he hums aloud. Then you notice his phone propped on a pillow, a Youtube tutorial rumbling in the background. He tries the G major again. Better, he says, pumping a fist into the tired air.

God, what a dork, you think. But you don’t walk away.]

–

From the garden, the Acrosian moon renders the city blue, like ink from a spilled well.

It’s quiet out here, you notice. The forest spills into the sky, and the scent of roses lies heavy on your skin. You’re seated on the bench beneath the sculpted gazebo, a worthy centerpiece, and you revel in the coolness of the granite, the bated still of the air. You like this garden better than the one at home, although it’s entirely possible that you’ve been conditioned into hating all topiaries, no thanks to your parents.

It's only when you hear the quiet click of footsteps behind you that you realize you’ve lost track of how long you’ve been outside. You’re now able to tell them apart–these, Joshua’s, steady and purposeful, sound like they have a heartbeat.

You don’t turn around to greet him. “So you finally had enough, huh?” you ask instead, sliding to the left so he can sit beside you.

“How'd you know?” he chuckles.

“I'd like to think I know at least a little about you.”

“I appreciate it,” is his reply, surprisingly warm.

Just a few hours earlier, your parents had come to visit. They cooed and giggled and connived alongside Joshua’s parents before launching into a very long, very serious discussion about your engagement ball. You’ve learned not to sweat the small stuff, the small stuff being the color of the napkins, the members of the string quartet, the hors d'oeuvres. But then it got weird: the symbolism of the color of your nail polish, which journalists were allowed to watch you make out, when and how Jeonghan was supposed to announce his presence during all of this.

Then things got critical, which really sucked. No one was safe this time, not even Joshua. You lasted about an hour, Joshua about forty-five minutes more. You wonder what his breaking point was. Maybe it was his mother finally telling him off for having more than three buttons undone whenever he wore a dress shirt.

In the silence, you feel an inexplicable peace. Maybe this is the only time you can get along; underneath the same moon, the same stars, the divide doesn’t feel quite as wide. You let your mind clear, first, past the fog of Somi’s birthday bash, glittery and blinding in your mind’s eye, past Jeonghan’s tired shoulders in the music store, past all the magazine covers and photo ops. The heavy reality feels heavier in your stomach, but you’re no longer as scared, although resignation looks like acceptance when you whittle it close enough to the bone.

“Have you ever been in love before?”

Joshua’s voice is so low, it takes you by surprise. You look to your side and see his eyes, shaded by the long curl of his lashes, trained on the sky, his expression unreadable. There’s a piercing sincerity to it, one you haven’t seen before.

“No,” you reply, the answer coming to you faster than any regret ever could. “How could i?”

“So all the boyfriends before, just…?” he trails off. He's referencing the magazines, all the covers with full size photos of you and the model of the month holding hands by the riviera, sharing a martini, kissing outside a nightclub. There are too many to remember, but you’re surprised he’s aware of any at all.

“It was just stupid fun. I dunno. We hung out, had sex, whatever. It was never serious. I didn't tell them about anything at all; I was okay with them not really knowing me, at least, not as anything other than a party girl, the runaway princess, etcetera. We didn’t owe each other anything.”

“Sounds lonely.”

“Sometimes,” you answer. “But it was fun. I don't regret it. I just never saw room for them in all of this.”

Joshua hums, low and deep.

“And you?” you ask, incredulous. “In love?”

“In university,” he says after a brief pause. “There was a girl. I think I loved her more than I had ever loved anything else before.”

“What? Who?” you interrupt. “Do I know her?”

“No.” Then, a quiet chuckle. “No one did. She was a civilian, a normal girl. She wanted to be a biologist, I think. it was either that, or a nurse. We snuck around a lot. Probably more than you did.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

“I told her I'd marry her. I thought if I wanted it enough, it would happen. I'd go to my parents, profess my love, and all our rules would fall away somehow. Just like that.”

Suddenly, it feels like there is a gaping wound in your chest. Every new word seems to draw the bloody edges of your skin further apart.

“Well, they didn’t,” Joshua continues. “I broke her heart. and I learned that all of this would never go away. Not for love, not for anything.”

There is an impossible hollowness inside you. You imagine Joshua, twenty-one and bright-eyed at Cambridge, hiding beneath the arch of the cobblestone bridge, the long one behind the quad, to carve hearts into the limestone. There's a girl wrapped in his jacket, her laughter like bells. She draws him close, runs a delicate hand through his hair, a shorter cut, more sporty than it is now. The night is still just as kind, forgiving, as it is now, and the moon still round like a young pearl.

“And that’s why you’re…you know.” You pause. The words all feel stuck to the roof of your mouth. “You like the rules.”

“Because it would mean that it didn’t end in vain. That it wasn’t really my fault.”

“You don’t want to mess up again. I get it.”

“Yeah.”

You notice your arms are touching, that they have been touching. Somehow, you don’t want to move away.

“Why are you telling me this?” you ask.

“Not sure.” Joshua sighs, having fully abandoned the filter he normally speaks to you through. “I don't think we’re so different. I don't know. It feels good to tell someone.”

“Do you still love her?”

“No. I don't think I can.”

“I'm sorry,” you swallow, feeling the familiar lump in your throat.

“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.”

It’s getting cold, the twilight breeze now coming in from the sea. A silence, now sticky, caustic, settles between the two of you. The thought of Joshua, hopelessly in love, a line you hadn’t even dared to cross, seems to wind itself deep into your neurons.

“No really,” you insist. “I'm sorry. I gave you a hard time—no, I've been giving you a hard time. I didn't know.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“What?”

“Be nice to me. No one’s watching.”

“I know,” you say, a foolish conviction rising in your stomach. You almost feel silly, juvenile, for never really baring your heart like how he had. You’re not sure which was worse.

You turn to look at him, really look at him. He's framed by the haze of the violets, the gentle curtain of the willows.

“Says the real you?” Joshua asks.

“Yup,” you laugh. “Usually is. You probably get the worst of it, to be honest.”

“She’s not so bad.” He returns your gaze; it’s honest, unsearching. “According to the real me, by the way.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

There are no words left. In fact, nothing quite says more than the way you now sit together, hands close enough to touch, without quarrel, complaint, or a yearning to prove yourself to some invisible standard. Instead, you enjoy the quiet calm, the way it drapes itself across the garden, the city, the quick of your heart. Now that you think about it, it’s the first time you’ve been able to do this without feeling like you were putting on a show.

This time, you think it’s real when you lean against his shoulder, and he leans back, chasing your warmth.

And it certainly seems to stay real when your hands find each other. You realize he does it the same way every time—the gentle skim of his fingertips down your hand before your palms meet, gently, forthright.

And it’s here, in the uncertain glow of the summer moon, where you think you’re the closest to ever knowing just what Joshua had been talking about earlier.

His hand curls around your cheek, holding you, wanting to see you clearer still, and he kisses you. It's not the practiced motion of an ill-conceived love, nor a hungry, blind stumble in your unlit bedroom. No, this time, it's as if you are being drawn back, wonderfully, slowly. Joshua kisses you as if it's the first time, as if to undo all the other times.

And somehow, almost by magic, the fountain song and the phantom photographers, the parents and the press, the world and everything in it, finally draw quiet.

–

“So,” Jihoon says, reloading his pistol. “You ok? Don’t you hate the range?”

You push your earmuffs aside to hear him better. “What?”

“I said, don’t you hate the range?”

“Well,” you balk. Jihoon puts the gun down and leans against the booth, looking at you from behind the glare of his safety glasses. Behind him is the paper target of a man with five bullet holes through his head. “I think I've gotten used to it.”

This is all true—you did hate the range, but it’s where you can always count on finding Jihoon on a Sunday afternoon. Better people went to church, but Jihoon preferred to terrorize the poor center circle of a bullseye.

“Hm.” He picks up the pistol again, stares down its iron sights. “Somi need anything for her birthday?”

“She needs a new man,” you reply, and Jihoon laughs.

Bang. Bang.

“But, no, I'm getting her that vintage Cartier watch she’s been wanting forever. They were auctioning it off in Paris.”

“Right, since it’s time for her to get a new boyfriend,” Jihoon deadpans, although he can’t quite get it out before he chuckles. “What about Soonyoung?”

“They cannot get together. You’re just being messy.”

“Sure, I'm the messy one. Didn’t they sleep together?”

“That was, like, two years ago. Drunk.”

Bang. Then a click–the clip’s empty. “By the way—you decided if you’re going to Cotria this weekend? Jeonghan will be back again, you know.”

You pause, watching Jihoon reload the magazine, shiny bullet by bullet. You definitely know Jeonghan’s coming home—minus all the time you spend on Find My Friends, you were always acutely aware of when he was in town. The real question is if you wanted to see him again. Usually, you’d count down the days, make plans at all your favorite restaurants, buy a bottle of cheap wine to split over a shitty Godzilla movie. That was when you still talked.

The last time you saw him was when he visited you in Acros. After the music store, you milled around a couple shops, walked through an art gallery. (Remember when you got lost at the Prado? he had asked. You were staring at that painting with all the butts.

Kinda, you had replied noncommittally. All Jeonghan did lately was start his sentences with remember, like he wanted you to forget who he was now.)

“I dunno,” is what you land on. “I'm busy.”

“Well, Jeonghan asked me.” Jihoon takes down his old target and sets up a fresh one, another formless, black silhouette.

“Asked you what?”

“If I could ask you to come.”

“Does Josh know?”

“He actually already helped with arrangements for you to go back,” Jihoon replies, palming the gun again. “He said only if you wanted to, though.”

The tightness in your chest seems to coil over itself once more. Joshua had asked you about Jeonghan over breakfast one morning, before handing you a coffee and a croissant to soften the blow. You had been talking a lot more lately, which, somehow, you didn’t mind. If he wasn’t making fun of you, he was actually a decent listener.

You watch Jihoon steady his arms.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

–

Like all of your great ideas, it began in the back of a car.

Surprising, maybe. Accidental? Never.

You’re getting ahead of yourself, though. It really started earlier tonight, at the charity event you attended with Joshua.

Lesser beings would blame the wine, a cheap chardonnay only fit for sorority girls on a Friday night. Naturally, you and Joshua were responsible for downing about half the bottle—a fun amount, you’d like to say, although you admit you were surprised at your date’s ability to hold his alcohol.

You, however, can peg the real culprit: a reasonably slutty dress, removed from the annals of Somi’s closet, back when she was less of a Paris Hilton and more of a Princess Diana.

The evidence: damning. As you were getting ready—Can you zip me up? you had asked Joshua, fiddling with the rollers in your hair, already a generous ten minutes late. Then the slow, lingering skim of his touch, molasses up the hollow of your spine. At dinner, a warm hand on your knee. You didn’t hang around much longer after that, but walking to the car was a wondrous excuse for the flat of his palm to find the small of your back, fondly, comfortably, as if you had known each other for years.

Since you had spoken in the garden, certainly you had acted like more of a couple. It came more naturally, likely due to the fact that you had no idea if you were actually a couple or not. You suppose it doesn’t matter at the end of the day. Well—sort of.

Now, you’re just being obtuse. What you’re really trying to do is explain how your hand found its way down Joshua’s pants in the back of your limousine. And still, found is too generous of a word. But you digress.

The short version: you kissed Joshua. Jihoon parked the car out back, you had gotten tired of Joshua glancing at you through the side of his eyes, and you kissed him. Regrettably, this hasn’t gotten boring yet. You enjoy the way he searches for your touch, the part of his soft lips.

Sometime between the third and the tenth time your tongue found its way into Joshua’s mouth, Jihoon removed himself from the situation—he was always good at that part. Two wandering hands later, your palm skimmed over the front of Joshua’s slacks. No big deal, except he was half-hard and he moaned in your mouth like he was doing the ad-libs in a Cupcakke song.

“Whoops,” you had babbled. This whole night, you’d been searching for the brakes on the clown car winding through the horny fog of your horrible, vexed mind.

“Fuck, sorry,” Joshua replied just as quickly, the words seeming to slip back down his throat.

Then you had stared at each other and blinked, hard, as if that would erase the fact that, one, the prince of Acros had just cursed approximately half an centimeter from your face, and two, you’d now crossed a bridge that could not be uncrossed.

You could no longer lie to yourself about the fact that you are hopelessly attracted to Joshua. You don’t even know if you want to lie anymore. You still thought of the time you ran into him, birthday suit and all, all those weeks ago in the bathroom. And, yes, you had wondered how big he was, although you blame Somi for planting that evil idea in you.

Hence, with God as your witness (since Jihoon was no longer there), you had said, “I can help, you know. If you want.”

You didn’t expect Joshua to nod so quickly. Then again, you now know yourself to be a poor judge of most things, especially ones relating to whatever this is.

“Do you want to?” he had asked, eyes fogged over.

“Yes. really.” Then you stopped. “Is this your first—”

“No. Does it really seem like it?”

Okay. You’ll have to unpack that later.

So, finally, here you are. Somewhere along the line, your shame had fallen to the wayside, and a new desire now rocks you.

“Could’ve just asked earlier,” you tease, thumbing the buckle of Joshua’s belt.

“Should’ve known you’re not one for subtlety,” he laughs softly, his eyes fixed on how you undo the clasp. It’s a silly comment, but all the blood still rushes to your cheeks at the idea of him wanting you not just now, but all night. “Next time.”

“Really now.” The button at his waistband proves difficult with your new nails, so you instead sit your hand on the tent in his pants, palm him over the fabric. “You’d let me do this in the washroom of a charity ball?”

Delightfully, you watch him squirm. He doesn’t fight you, instead, uses his hands to bring you closer so you can feel his voice on your skin. “You’d be surprised,” he replies.

“His highness,” you say before returning to the wretched button, “Fooling around at a formal event? Scandalous.”

“Says the walking scandal,” Joshua laughs again, nipping at your earlobe. Then a sigh, breathy and tortured, as you finally peel back his slacks.

“Isn’t this about the time where you be quiet and let me do my thing?”

“Is that an order?”

“Yeah, since you seem to like them so much.”

He opens his mouth to complain, but you’ve beaten him to the punch. Skin meets skin; you watch his eyes flutter shut, the slow fall of his shoulders as he exhales.

Fuck, you think to yourself. If that’s all it takes for him to get hard— you force the thought back to where it came from. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Already, you’re reveling in the lewd image before you: the nation’s darling prince, legs spread and slack-jawed in the back of a limo, dizzy at the thought of a pretty girl playing with his cock.

Your hand wraps around his length, pulls it out of his briefs. Feeling the weight, heavy and warm on your palm, makes your skin prickle. He is big, but even if he wasn’t, the way he gasps into your ear when you start pumping him is enough to satisfy.

You start slow, just to be a little mean. He's longer than you expected, you realize. A turn of the wrist at the base, a little more pressure, and you hear him groan, loudly, shamelessly, as he tips his head back.

“Feels good?” you ask, voice lower than a whisper. You know it does—you’re not inexperienced by any stretch of the imagination, but something about turning the prince into putty makes the months of horrible foreplay worth it.

“Yeah,” he says, part sigh. “Really good.”

“Good.” Then you hold out your palm in front of his mouth. You tell yourself it’s a litmus test for his freak-o-meter, but there’s a part of you that wants to make this the best handjob of his short, unexciting life.

First, he looks at you, wide eyes unblinking. There's already a flush, pretty and pink, across his cheeks, the column of his neck. Then, it clicks. He spits into your hand, and you watch it trail down the plush curve of his lips, his chin, the ridge of his adam’s apple. The color spreads to his ears; his mouth twists shyly. Oh, he looks perfect, maybe even more than perfect like this.

As if drawn by a magnet, you kiss him, and your hand finds his cock again. The friction alone draws out a low whine from Joshua’s chest, enough for you to feel the sound on your own tongue. Emboldened, you pump faster, harder, loving the way his hips kick up to meet your touch.

Still, he gives no indication that he’s close. Something tells you he has more stamina than you think, which surprises you. Thirty minutes ago, you thought he was a virgin.

“Josh?” you murmur, your lips brushing over his. “Wanna taste you.”

He meets your gaze, expression unreadable. You think maybe you’re moving too fast, that you’ve crossed some sort of boundary, until you feel the shadow of his hand move, first on your waist, then up the back of your neck. He gathers your hair in one hand, easily, as if he’s done this many a time before, and you get the message.

You wet your lips, swollen at this point, and bow your head. You’re running on something crazier than adrenaline at this point—even seeing the bead of precum at his tip is making your jaw feel heavy.

The first taste, always thrilling, sends sparks to your cunt. You seal your lips around his cockhead, feeling its weight on your greedy tongue, and he pulls your hair just enough to make you moan.

“Were you thinking about doing this all night?” Joshua asks, voice deceptively innocent.

You can’t answer. You don’t want to. He tastes good, he even fucking smells good, and you want him bad. Instead, you take him to the base, feel him bump against your palate as you try not to gag. You can’t fit him all the way, so your hands make up the slack. He's even bigger fully hard, and already, you feel the ache in your cheeks, your temples.

“Fuck, you must have been.” A groan, low and slutty. “Doing so good for me.”

You can’t tell if he’s being genuine or if this is his version of dirty talk, but it’s working. His hand is gentle, restrained behind you, letting you lead. The worse part of you wonders what it would take for him to break, but that’s a project for another time.

Honestly, he doesn’t need to do much—again and again, you chase the feeling of his cock deep in your throat, enough to bruise. You don’t even care if you gag around him; when you do, he pulls your hair back, just enough to make your scalp prickle wonderfully, seemingly oblivious to the fact that you like it.

You feel heady with arousal. You start to wonder how he is in bed, if he’d hold your hair like that, run his mouth like he is now. He's vocal, more than anyone else you’ve been with, and every little noise goes straight to your core, makes your thighs squeeze together pathetically. By now, you’re sure you’ve ruined this set of panties.

“ ‘m close,” he says between breaths. “You don’t have to—”

Stupid, stupid boy, you think. You don’t think you’ve wanted to do anything more. So instead of answering, you look up at him, eyes big and watery, and you suck hard. with your tongue nestled underneath his cockhead, right by the vein, it’s almost too easy.

He groans, loud, satisfied, and you feel his release fill your mouth. Even after swallowing, it’s enough to run down your chin, get your makeup all smudged, and you like it. If you weren’t in trouble already, you are now.

“Ah, I made you a mess,” Joshua says, gravelly and intimate. With one hand, he takes the handkerchief out of his suit jacket and cradles your jaw with the other. “Hold still.”

“You,” you manage after clearing your throat. “You don’t have to sacrifice your pocket square.”

“Yes, I do,” he chuckles. He wipes the corners of your mouth, your aching chin, and it almost makes you cry. “You literally gave me head in the back of a car. The pocket square can go.”

He draws you up to his chest so you can rest your head on him. There’s a warm, melty feeling between your ribs, minus what you had just swallowed. Inexplicably, even as the horny fog clears from your brain, you still want to be close, closer than close and then closer still.

“Head? I don’t like hearing you use normal people slang.” You pout, and you feel his laugh radiate from beneath his skin. “Good head, at least?”

“Oh, please. Better than good,” he answers. “You’re perfect. perfect.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you start. Then he shuts you up with his mouth over yours, and you forget to think about liking him, loving him, or marrying him—this, you think you can do.

—

“We’re in Barcelona!”

You’re greeted by a pocket sized Somi and Soonyoung as they grin at you from your phone screen. They look to be on the balcony of a hotel suite, both wearing their matching silk robes.

“Wow,” you reply. “And where was my invite?”

“We did invite you, bitch,” Somi says, pulling down her sunglasses to look at you. “You said you were busy.”

“Well, I mean…” you uncap a bottle of nail polish. “That's not untrue.”

“The ocean needs you,” Soonyoung whines, clutching his chest. “We need you.”

“I'm sorry! Josh and I have been doing engagement stuff.”

“Josh? Since when were you on a nickname basis?”

“Whatever,” you interrupt. “What are you guys gonna do today?”

“Beach,” Soonyoung responds brightly, with Somi’s Don’t let her change the subject! loud in the background.

To be honest, you don’t even know the answer to her question. It just sort of happened, which seems to be the new normal for you. You’re also trying to pull apart last night–the freak-o-meter test came back inconclusive, and, for some reason, Joshua fell asleep with his arm over your middle. (Actually, you can think of a few reasons why he did that, but you’re not really sure how to feel about any of them.)

“Ugh, I miss you guys.” You wipe at your pinkie toe, having smudged the polish beyond repair. “Drink a little extra sangria for me. And by little, I mean a lot.”

“You’re still coming to Somi’s birthday, right?” Soonyoung asks.

“Yes, of course she is,” Somi replies. “Unless you can’t. Which I totally understand.”

“I still can,” you lie. “It just has to be more low-key than usual.”

“No paparazzi,” Somi says. “And I'll tell everyone to keep you on the down low. Super duper down low.”

“No way.” Damn, you curse to yourself—you keep screwing up painting your big toe. “Seriously?”

“Anything for my queen,” she giggles. “Pitbull is also confirmed, by the way. Secret Pitbull now.”

“Good, because that’s the only reason I’m coming.”

“Boo, you whore.” Somi wrinkles her nose at you playfully. (Is she being serious? Soonyoung asks in the background.) “Also, I'm still waiting for my update on the whole prince thing. I've been very patient.”

“No updates. Nothing to report,” you insist. Frustratingly, your cheeks are hot, like you’re in secondary school all over again.

“You fucked him, huh?”

You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Halfway. Maybe.”

The combined sound of Somi and Soonyoung’s gasps rips apart your phone speakers, and you draw in a big breath. I did it for the plot doesn’t quite seem like the right justification, not like it used to be. The plot never used to involve the M word, love, or any sort of feelings at all. Now things are more confusing than late-stage Grey’s Anatomy, but good luck explaining that over the phone.

“So you do like him,” Soonyoung says, saucer eyes sparkly on-screen.

“I don't know,” you answer. It’s true, you don’t. To you, like was flirting over text and french kissing. Paradoxically, you had told Joshua all of that, and he still decided to do whatever he did to you on the ledge of the fountain all those days ago. It felt like he ate the heart right out of your chest. Then you had to go and suck his dick, which never made anything less complicated.

“Oh please. Look at you,” Somi laughs. “Yeah, you do.”

Fuck. You’ve smudged all the polish off your big toe again.

–

Not much surprises you these days, but you can’t say you were expecting to see your riding boots to be the first thing you see when you arrive home in Cotria.

The second thing you see is Jeonghan, smiling at you in his big, stupid riding helmet, camo-printed because he bought it when he was 15 and his head never grew much bigger since.

“For old times sake?” He then holds your own helmet up by the straps, and whatever twinge of annoyance you had felt earlier makes way for something softer, more forgiving. “Everything's set up outside.”

It doesn’t take you much time to take him up on the offer. If anything, a long ride usually solves all your problems, and you definitely have problems that need solving.

You saddle up in the stables, wordlessly, moved by habit. It seems to be the same for Jeonghan, too. Even Peanut acts like it hasn’t been years since he’s seen him, and he noses at the box of sugar cubes like he always does. Then again, horses don’t hold grudges, at least, not like you do. Even Joshua seemed more optimistic about this encounter than you did.

“So you're back back,” you say, hooking your feet in the stirrups. “Or do you have more jet-setting to do?”

“Back back,” Jeonghan replies. “Missed home too much.”

He cocks his head towards the old riding trail, the one that loops the long way through the woods. The gesture is but a formality—it’s the only path you ever take. Still, you follow behind his horse, watching the beige swoosh of Peanut’s tail the same way you did when you were a little girl and things were far simpler than they are now.

Under the cornflower sky of a near-autumn, the forest seems endless. A flock of geese split the sky in two; a warm breeze haunts the canopy, scattering the afternoon light. The dirt under you is soft, peaty from the morning rain. The hoofbeats are silent today.

Jeonghan’s horse slows so that you ride side-by-side.

“Hey, cricket?”

“Yeah?”

“I…” Jeonghan clears his throat and pauses, quite unlike him. “I wanted to come out here to talk.”

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah, I…” Another pause. “I know things haven’t felt normal between us. For me, at least.”

You almost drop the reins. A strange, floating feeling is set off in your body, like a flare.

“Yeah,” you reply. “I was kinda hoping you would say that.”

“I'm sorry.” A hard swallow. “I haven't really been the best brother, have I?”

“Well, not…not really.” Quickly, frenetically, words bob up in the back of your mouth like you’re playing whack-a-mole. You had been waiting for this conversation to happen for so long, you realized you hadn’t planned much further than that. “It felt like you’d changed. A lot.”

The wind feels like ribbons around you. You sway back and forth on Astrid, as if on a boat.

“Was it the birthday party thing?” you ask. “I didn’t mean for it to…you know.”

“Actually, that was my fault.” Jeonghan smiles bitterly. “I shouldn't have let Mom and Dad run me over like that. You should’ve been there. It was never really the same without you.”

“Well, I should've come,” you admit. “So we both fucked up.”

“Maybe,” he chuckles. “But the rest—definitely my fault. I made myself busy because I felt like I had to.”

You’re growing to really hate that word. Jeonghan had to grow up, Joshua had to break up with his first love, you had to learn to pick up all the pieces of both of these things and try to fit them back into your life.

“You didn’t even look back.”

“I was scared, cricket. That if I kept looking back, I wouldn't be able to go forward. And I didn’t want to leave you behind, but I did. I think there was a happy middle somewhere, I just couldn’t find it.”

“Jeonghan, you’re not really making sense right now,” you say, flattened, and he laughs.

“I don't even know what I'm saying. I think I'm trying to say that I just want you to be happy. And that I'm sorry.”

You bite your lip, as if to distract yourself from the strange pressure in your throat. You think you want to cry, but you’re not sure.

“But are you happy?” you ask. “With the coronation and everything? Did you even want this?”

“I am, believe it or not. I know you don’t, but I'm not lying. Somewhere along the line, I started liking all of the talking, the traveling, the interviews. I like that I can help people. Some of it sucks, but not all of it.” He laughs, finally one that sounds like something you can remember. “Not everything you have to do is bad.”

“Jeonghan, I'm getting married because of you. Because of this,” you say, trying to keep your voice from cracking. “I don't know how to do this. Any of this, not like you, not like Mom, or anyone.”

This, in fact, does make Jeonghan stop. He stills and falls silent. At once, it seems the forest goes quiet too.

“Don’t get married, then.” You don’t respond, so he says it again. “You don’t have to go through with it. Not for my sake, at least.”

“What?”

“I've been thinking about it ever since it happened. I can talk to everyone. You’d rather not be with the guy, right?”

Your tongue freezes in your mouth. You thought you had an answer, but it refuses to come out.

“I have a duty to protect you, too. I’ll be fine with or without the press.”

“Jeonghan,” you say quietly. Many moons ago, you would have laughed at the word duty, but instead, your stomach turns over and over and over. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” is his simple answer. “I want to because I care about you. We can figure out the rest.”

Something in your bones feels heavy. You’d also been waiting to hear those words, but it didn’t feel as freeing as you thought it would. You think about Joshua, his books and his perfectly placed bookmarks, his dumb dad jokes, the way he reaches for your hand, fingertips before palm.

“Can I think about it?”

“Of course. The engagement ball is probably happening either way, but it’s no big deal. Bigger engagements have been called off in far worse circumstances.”

You’re having trouble believing him, but you have no other choice. Your life would certainly get a lot easier if everything were to just end. No more press releases, scripts, or awkward pictures. And no more worrying about if you could go out on the weekends or just how much of yourself to give up to make things work.

“There's no rush.” He turns to look at you with the same wild shine in his eyes that you’d grown to miss so much. “Truce?”

That, somehow, you’re much happier to hear. You thought you’d be angrier than this, feel the usual metal-red of your gut, but all that’s left is a sobering feeling of relief, of home. At last, things feel close to normal.

“Truce.”

So you ride and ride, but a decision doesn’t come to you as easily as you thought. The sunset breaks; the word duty clings to you, unshakable, unrelenting.

—

Somehow, you have gone full circle: at the end of a long day, you find yourself back at the piano, much like you did when you were seven, and the only thing you could do right was play Hot Cross Buns.

Joshua had bought an unreasonable amount of music books, half guitar for him, half piano for you. You’d forgotten just how much you had liked playing until that night, many nights ago, when you and he had first muddled through that duet.

Yesterday, you and your parents had tea at the waterfront before you had left the country. You were still undecided on the engagement; frustratingly, the needle hadn’t moved much in either direction since Jeonghan had raised his proposal to you.

Congratulations, your mother had told you, right over her cup of oolong.

For what?

You’ve risen to the occasion. You’ve grown up.

To you, this was not a compliment. You didn’t know what it was. You had twisted the ring on your finger, back and forth, a habit you picked up after all the time you spent wearing it. You wondered if somewhere, you had become exactly like Jeonghan, molded and spun into someone unrecognizable. Maybe that was why Joshua finally seemed to like you.

Have you practiced for your first dance? your father asked, and you no longer had time to worry about the state of your personality—you had other fires to put out.

Really, that’s why you’re at the piano today. You thought you could play the damn tune and somehow remember all the ballroom dancing lessons you had taken when you were younger. Unsurprisingly, it hasn’t worked yet.

There’s a knock at the doorframe. “Come in,” you say, already knowing that it’s Joshua. No one else does that; Jihoon barges in and just starts talking, and you can hear Joshua’s parents from a mile away because of all the jewelry they have on.

“Just wanted to see what you were up to,” Joshua says. He leans against the frame of the piano, already dressed down for the night.

“Nothing,” you reply. “Just magically hoping that I remember how to ballroom dance.”

“Well, first things first, you can’t dance sitting down.” He chuckles, and you pull your lips tight.

“I'm serious, Josh,” you whine.

“You really don’t remember?” He gives you one of those looks, one that you’re quite used to now, with the judgmental wrinkle of the brow. “Didn’t you take lessons?”

“Yeah, like…fifty million years ago.”

“I couldn’t tell,” he says, grinning something foolish. “You don’t look a day over fifty.” Then he offers you his hand, which you take, and he easily pulls you from the bench.

“Flattered,” you say, unable to push down the corners of your smile. “You gonna teach this senior citizen a few moves?”

“Perhaps, as my good deed for the day.” He holds your hand, still firmly in his, and slides it up his arm to rest on his bicep. “Left hand here,” he tells you.

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Not yet,” Joshua laughs. “The ballroom hold ring a bell?” His other hand finds your free one, and you interlace fingers simply, easily. Then, the warmth of a hand between your shoulder blades, one that draws you to his chest.

“I think the only dancing I know how to do is half drunk in the dark. Can’t exactly throw it back on you in front of God and country.”

Joshua grins, a big one, and you, traitorously, feel your cheeks get prickly.

“I wouldn't want God looking at you like that,” he teases.

“And country’s already seen it all.”

“They should consider themselves very lucky, then.” His eyes meet yours, lit by the scattered light of the chandelier. “It's my turn to ask you to let me lead.”

“Fine,” you pout, noticing that familiar warmth in your stomach.

Joshua begins to count your steps off (one, two, three—ow, that’s my foot! —sorry!). He’s patient with you, more patient than you think you deserve. His hand seems to slot perfectly into the curve of your back; his gaze settles onto you in a way that makes your chest feel heavy, molten.

“For someone who goes out so much, you have a terrible sense of rhythm,” Joshua says, teasing.

“Hey,” you object. “Maybe I just have a bad teacher.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?”

“Well, I'm not about to blame Britney Spears.”

Joshua laughs, and the sound is so close to you, you can feel it on your skin.

“I still think it’s the student’s fault.”

“Me?!” Perfectly timed, your sock-clad feet collide (yours, striped and fuzzy, his, plain white). “Impossible.”

“Too distracting,” he murmurs, and you notice how unfairly pretty his eyes are. “You bump into me, criticize me, you look at me like that…”

You feel dizzy. You don’t know what Joshua’s doing to you, but it’s mean. Your face is warm, and normally you’d blame it all on the alcohol but you haven’t had any. Worst of all, the soft part of you, the lizard-brained, impulsive part, can’t stop thinking about his lips and how they would feel on yours.

It’s a thought you don’t let linger, much like all of the other half-thoughts you have, and you kiss him, as if it was a reprieve from the terrible, horrible way he’s making you feel. (It isn’t.)

“You talk too much,” you tell Joshua, right against his lips. “Not enough teaching.”

“I'm putting you in remediation.”

“Devastating.”

“And giving you homework.”

“Whatever shall I do?”

Joshua answers that question for you. He kisses you, once, twice, still not enough, and, somehow, things feel more simple than they ever had before.

—

Jihoon’s eyes are dark, dagger-sharp in the rearview mirror.

“We’re coming up,” he says. “A few minutes out.”

“I know,” you answer. Yunjin was successful, almost too successful, in her task of finding you an appropriately revealing dress for a newly engaged twenty-something at the party of the year. The filmy silk stretches around your thighs; the cowl neck flirts with the neckline of the bikini top you have on underneath.

You look good, probably better than how you’ve looked in months. And yet, for some reason, you don’t feel good, at least, not how you’d thought you’d feel on the way to the only event you’d been looking forward to this year.

Somi’s gift rattles in your lap. It’s covered in this loud, hot pink wrapping paper unbecoming of something you had spent years tracking down on the antiques circuit. Normally, you’d have a laugh with Jihoon about it, maybe take some selfies in the car, but instead, you find yourself spinning your ring around your finger like you always seem to do these days.

You think of Jeonghan, of Joshua. Of course, what you do or don’t do on your best friend’s birthday is none of their business (although, very inconveniently, Jeonghan did have some event this weekend, and Joshua was traveling). But still, you think of the boldface headlines, the whispering gossip forums, the washed-out image of you in your little dress on the cover of a cheap magazine. This wasn’t exactly a tame party, and things weren’t just about you anymore, not like they used to be.

Marking your arrival isn’t the GPS nor Jihoon, rather, it’s the firefly buzz of the cameras outside your limo as it’s forced to come to a stop. You squint, trying to see past the tint of your windows, and see Somi, radiant in her birthday tiara, as she pushes through the crowd. Behind her is the villa she rented, illuminated by pink and gold strobe lights.

You crack open the car door and are met with a stifling deluge of camera flashes. Music pulses through the air, enough to feel beneath your heels.

“Who's my favorite princess?” Somi exclaims, throwing her arms open. “You made it! you look hot.”

“Not as hot as the birthday girl,” you reply, and you let her squeeze the air out of you in a wonderful, bone-crushing hug. “What's with all the cameras?”

“Professional photographers. Just wanted something to remember the night by, because we are blacking out.” She giggles, already tipsy. “Come, come, we’re doing shots inside.”

“Without me?”

“We’ll catch you up.”

Somi drags you by the hand through the sea of people, and you watch the cameras follow as they always do. She leads you up the stairs, underneath the towering balloon display, and into the foyer, already darkened, lit only by a disco ball chandelier and the neon backlights.

You spot Soonyoung by a champagne tower that seems twice his size, as promised. He's in a leather jacket, no shirt under, and you watch his eyes light up as they meet yours.

“A shot for her highness,” he shouts over the music.

“I thought this was champagne.”

“Tequila's close enough.” He laughs, eyes upturned, bright like gemstones.

The first shot goes down easy. it always does. So does the second, unsurprisingly. Around the third is when Somi tells you that the strippers are coming in an hour. (—Strippers?! —Not everyone has a fiancé, you know.)

And, just like that, you’re back to the beginning. It’s hard to think over the ridiculously good Kesha mix the DJ is playing, but, terribly, you think you’re starting to understand what Jeonghan was talking about. You’re still not sure how you feel about duty, responsibility, sacrifice, those heavy words that feel impossibly heavier in your mouth, but all you know is that, as much fun as you’re having now, it comes at a fair price.

Somi told you nothing, no compromising pictures, no drama, would reach the press, but, as hard as she may try, you feel like enough people have laid eyes on you already that someone was bound to hear something. If not now, then definitely in a few hours when everyone’s on at least two and a half substances, and all bets are off.

Someone tells you to smile for a selfie. You recognize her, but you don’t remember her name (Amelia or Alicia, one of Somi’s friend of a friends. On second glance, there are definitely more than 200 people here). Let's dance! another voice shouts in your ear.

Your head hurts. You hate the idea that Jeonghan might be a little right, but you hate even more that you’re starting to agree with him. Maybe you need another shot.

“Your gift,” you say, fighting over the chorus of Your Love Is My Drug. “Somi!”

“Oh my god, you did not!” she squeals. She clasps her hands over yours, wrapped around the box, and draws them to her. “Let me take it to the table. I’ll meet you by the pool—oh, oh, there’s a hot dog stand out there too!”

“Actually,” you start. You’re not that drunk, not yet, but now you think you can feel the ground start to sway under you. it wouldn’t be too far a stretch to say that in half an hour, after a little time at the bar, you’d probably be spending the night, no question. “I think I have to run.”

“Aw, really?” Somi tilts her head and squints, as if trying to read your mind.

“I am so sorry,” you tell her, as sincerely as one can over a pop song from the 2000s. “Swear I'll make it up to you.”

“Life stuff, right?”

“Yeah.”

“It's ok,” she says. “Really really. Go home, figure your shit out, and we can have our own party.”

She holds your joined hands to her heart. Whatever look you gave her, she believed. That, or she knows you better than you think.

So you leave. The car ride home is silent. Jihoon doesn’t ask questions, and you can still hear the sound of the music ringing in your ears, on and on and on.

–

You think the worst thing you’ve ever woken up to was the Crazy Frog ringtone of one of the guys you had slept with during university.

The second worst has got to be five voice memos and three consecutive missed Facetime calls from Somi, which is the first thing you see upon opening your eyes.

“Oh fuck,” you murmur, still coming to. Your bed is empty, but you see Joshua's suitcase in the corner of the room. He must have come home early this morning, while you were still sleeping.

You crack open your text messages.

–OH MY GOD.

–I AM SO SO SORRY.

–someone must have gotten paid off for last night’s pictures…i had no idea i swear

Then a voice memo. Then another voice memo. then a PopCrave Twitter screenshot: YOU CAN TAKE THE PRINCESS OUT OF THE PARTY–OR CAN YOU? followed by the worst, most incriminating photo of you and Soonyoung, arms linked, throwing back a shot.

“No, no, no, no.” You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the stone-cold drop of your heart to your feet. “Fuck. Fuck.”

Shit. You have to find Joshua and make it right.

Somehow, you thought it wouldn’t matter, that you didn’t care what did or didn’t get out as long as you were able to have a good time—you desperately search for that same feeling, knowing that it’s long, long gone. You don’t even think you truly ever believed that.

You race down the palace hallways, ones that feel far more familiar than the rigid bastions they were when you first got here, but it’s Joshua who finds you before you find him. Or rather, it’s his voice you hear, trickling out from behind the library door.

Suddenly, you’re five again, and you’re spying on Jeonghan talking to your parents. You peek through the crack of the doorframe. As Somi would say, nightmare blunt rotation: there stands Joshua, surrounded by both sets of parents, and no one looks happy.

“We knew it,” another voice says—your mother. “We’re sorry, but we said this would happen.”

“It’s no matter. There’s nothing left to do but call the engagement off.”

The room goes quiet. You notice your hands are shaking. Your face feels numb.

“You’re right. I don't think anyone’s getting what they want out of this, anyway.”

“We’ll cancel the ball. There’s no way around it. Likely a relief, right, Joshua?”

The moment seems to squirm, suspended in time. This is what you were waiting for, right? Your parents were right—no one wanted this anyway. You certainly didn’t, and now you get your get out of jail free card. On top of that, you get to hear what you’d been expecting all along—that Joshua never liked you, that this was fun and all, but he’s ready to stop playing pretend.

“I…I disagree.” You freeze. “She's my fiancée. I made a commitment to her, and I'm not going to walk away.”

“Joshua, my dear, this arrangement was never going to work. You can be honest.”

This is the part where Joshua nods, does his perfectly symmetric smile, and agrees. This is what he does, what he’s been doing since forever. The story always ends the same way. That was the point.

Instead: “I am being honest. Since when was it illegal to go to your best friend’s birthday party? I don't care what the rest of the world has to say. She’s not who they, or you, think she is.” Through the door-gap, you watch the pursed, resolute draw of Joshua’s lips. “You didn’t even invite her here to talk about her own engagement. You never once gave her a chance.”

A stunned silence falls over the room.

“I’m sorry, but this is how I feel. I won't let you take another girl I love from me. Not again.”

Your hand flies over your mouth, and something twists deep in you, like you’re drowning from the inside out. You can’t, won’t, believe what you just heard. That somehow, beyond all the fighting, the quiet nights, the snide remarks and the fake smiles, that Joshua loved you? Loved? Enough to say all that to the people that ruled his life with an iron fist? None of this made sense, but nothing’s made sense since you got here.

The room erupts into noise, peals of voices all colliding into each other, and you do what you do best—you leave.

—

No one talks about that morning. You don’t even think anyone knows you were there—part of you wishes that you actually weren’t, so you didn’t have all this on your mind. (Joshua, later that day: I got you something from Seoul. From his suitcase, a bottle of soju. Just kidding. Then a jade bracelet, so vibrant it looked like the ocean.) No one talked about Somi, and no one talked about the party.

In fact, everyone had just rolled on as usual, all the way to the end of the week, the day of your engagement ball. Even you did. The word love felt so big, so burdensome, when Joshua had said it to his parents, but you didn't mind it on you.

The lingering touches, late night talks, tea made the way you like—nothing really had changed much since shit hit the fan, but now you knew that was the label. You guess that when you told Joshua you had never been in love before, you were really telling the truth. Either that, or he was just saying whatever the hell he needed to stop your engagement from imploding.

Still, you found yourself still reaching for him. There was an unfamiliar comfort about his nearness. You woke up this morning cradled to his side, and, for once, it wasn’t a scene you wanted to erase.

Now, your hairstylist hoses your blowout down with hairspray. You’d spent the better part of this morning sitting in different chairs, hair, makeup, nails. A part of you waits for the other shoe to drop: Joshua’s mother would waltz in and tell you, Surprise! You’re a single woman again, just as you should be.

It never happens. You’re wrapped in various mists and creams and powders, all the while fielding all the same questions about the ball (—Excited for tonight? Yeah, of course. —How does it feel being the surprise couple of the year? Surprising.)

It’s not until Yunjin comes in, wheeling in your giant, sparkly engagement gown, all Italian lace and satin brocade, that things feel real.

The dress itself is beautiful, a pale champagne number, gathered at the waist with a smattering of crystals down the train. Earlier, when you’d first tried it on, it looked like a costume fit for the girl playing wife. It was another smothering thing that hung on you, just like everything else in your life.

Today, you watch your form tall in the mirror. You meet her eyes, her uncertain mouth. It’s you, for sure, but there’s a stillness about you that you can’t quite put a finger on. Maybe Joshua’s demeanor was contagious.

Yunjin laces your bodice up, careful eyelet by eyelet—“You’re nervous, huh?”

“Is it really that obvious?”

She laughs. “Breathe. You’re not getting married. Not yet, at least.”

“Yunjin, isn’t it weird that no one has talked to me about Somi’s birthday? Everyone on the planet saw the leaks.”

“Maybe they finally learned to stop giving a shit. You looked hot, you had a good time, end of story. It’s not like anyone died.”

True. She grabs your shoulders and looks at you through the reflection of the mirror.

“Smile. Enjoy yourself. You look so, so beautiful.” You take a deep, soaking breath. You think about Joshua and all the sharp edges of his voice when he said he loved you. You had argued with him a lot, and you had never heard him like that. “You want this, right?”

Well, when she puts it like that? Yeah, you do. You think you really do.

—

The Great Hall is unrecognizable when you stand before it; the pink and white zinnias have been replaced by bouquets of calla lily and eucalyptus, the arched ceilings, once cold and imposing, now are bathed in the buttery, warm glow of candlelight. And the too-big space, usually empty, is now filled with partygoers, radiant in their best dress.

You stand at the top of the grand staircase. A thrill, anxious and skittering, runs up your bones. You’re reminded of your last big public showing at the derby, of the sea of microphones and the eye of the camera and the crowd, all staring you down.

You run through the cruel motions. First, a curtesy, so slow you think the audience can see you tremble. Then you take the first step down the stairs, and you watch them turn to you like the tanned halo-faces of sunflowers.

There, in the center of the crowd stands Joshua, unwavering. He's wearing a deep blue tuxedo, unfairly flattering (though, the lone curl of hair falling into his eyes is strong competition). Meeting his gaze, you watch the corners of his mouth fold up in a way that reminds you to breathe. In, out. You’ve got this.

Every step, you feel like you’re learning to walk for the first time, like you've lost your sea legs. Amongst the guests, you spot Jeonghan, next to him Jihoon. Then back to Joshua, like your eyes can’t stay away. He shoots you a covert thumbs up—you’d expect nothing less from the corniest man on Earth—but, nonetheless, it makes the long walk to the center of the room feel much shorter, despite the torture devices on your feet (Louboutins, not broken in).

One, two steps, and you’re face to face with your fiancé. Your heart is still racing, thrumming against the cage of your bodice like it's trying to escape. You’re sure the whole congregation could hear it if not for the quartet that’s come to life, now playing the opening notes of Blue Danube.

Yes, that’s right, you tell yourself. You still have to dance in front of the whole fucking country.

Before you crash out and make this a national emergency, you feel the warmth of Joshua’s touch. Fingertips before palm, always the same, he finds your hand, like he manages to do every single time.

“I’ve got you,” he says, low enough for only you to hear. And for the first time, you believe him.

—

Really, you could have gotten away with saying nothing. It would be much easier, to be honest.

The ball had gone off without a hitch so far. The music was good, the food even better, and your parents were somehow silenced, instead opting to dance among the crowd like they were young again. Still, you can’t seem to put your mind at ease. With everything that had happened this week, Jeonghan’s offer only seemed to weigh heavier, more urgently upon you. And of course, there was the matter of Joshua choosing to opt into your engagement, against all odds.

You realize you had gotten quite good at running away from things—your family, your responsibilities, the media, even Joshua—not knowing how to bear the weight of an impossible duty. Actually, you thought it was a royal failing until you had seen Joshua in the library that morning, jaw set, unbending.

“Hey, Josh?” you ask, with a few bats of the eyelashes to soften the blow.

He tilts his head in that way he does, and his gaze softens. Damn you, you think. Trying to distract me with those horrible, pretty eyes.

“Can we talk about Sunday?”

“What about Sunday?” He still looks confused, and you know the look well enough at this point to know he’s not faking it.

“Um…Sunday morning. After the party,” you say slowly, as if giving yourself time to back out, just in case. “I heard you talking with our parents.”

In an instant, his expression changes, and his eyebrows roll into their usual furrow. You feel his hand falter behind your shoulder blades.

“Oh,” Joshua’s voice drops. “That.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, realizing all you do is apologize. “It was supposed to be a small thing, no cameras, I barely even stayed—.”

“Hey, it’s ok,” Joshua interrupts. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“I-I know,” you fib. The thing about pretending is that you’ve both become so good at it that you have trouble believing him. “It’s just that I also heard what…what you said.”

Somehow, the wrinkle between his brows grows deeper.

“I said a lot of things that morning.”

You press your lips thin, feeling what you’re about to say ball up on your tongue. Easily, you could change the subject; you didn’t have to know anything, really, you could stay silent and let the world work around you, just as you had been taught. But you watch the soft twist of Joshua’s gaze, how he studies your expression, and you know you can’t go back to how things used to be.

“You said you…” You take a hard swallow. All the blood in your body only wants to exist in the apples of your cheeks, away from your brain where you need it most. “You loved me.”

At once, the world spins off-axis. You feel the anxious flutter of Joshua’s heart under your palm, and your own stomach flips in its cage. The L word coming out of your mouth seems ten-thousand times more ridiculous than anything he could say, probably because you can’t remember the last time you actually said it and it came out all wrong.

He must feel the same way. For once, he can’t meet your eyes. His mouth opens and then closes, as if hoping to delete what you had just said. Maybe you would just keep dancing, beat by beat, and this would all go away.

Silly girl, you think, traitorously. Pick a damn side. Either he likes you or he doesn’t. The problem is that, somehow, both options hurt your feelings.

“I mean, I totally get it if you just said it to keep up the act,” you cut in. “There are a lot of reasons why this is a good idea.”

“The act?”

“Well, yeah,” you reply. “Isn’t that what this is? Haven’t we just been lying to everyone? To ourselves?”

Joshua’s hand at your waist stiffens before he draws you closer to him. You expect him to roll his eyes, do one of those exaggerated sighs that he does when you’re being difficult.

Instead he leans in, close enough for you to feel his voice against your skin.

“Do you think I was lying back there? Or now?”

Your heart lurches.

“I—no, but.” You pause. Every single coherent thought you’ve ever had scatters to the wind. “Well.”

“Because i’m not,” Joshua says, this time, more softly. “Not about this. Or us.”

“But how? Why?” You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling your chest swell in a way it never has before. “You’re perfect, and I'm…I’m me.”

“That’s why,” he answers, simply. “You’re smart, funny, honest—sometimes too honest, even. You reminded me there was a better version of me that I had left behind. One that wasn’t perfect, but was happy.”

He holds you in his gaze the same way he did in the garden, carved by moonlight. An impossible warmth fills your skin; at once, it feels like, in your vision, there is only him, like you're in a cartoon.

“At the same time, I understand if—” Joshua starts.

“I feel the same,” you blurt out. “I…I don’t know what this is, and I don’t think I ever really did, but I want to try.”

You watch the surprise write itself all over his doe eyes, his unfairly rounded cheeks. From by the hors d'oeuvres, nosy Jeonghan peeks over the shoulder of another guest, already familiar with your lack of volume control. You watch him grin something stupid, triumphant.

“You’re uptight, judgmental, and you make the worst jokes. But I…I think I might be falling for you too.”

Saying it is like getting peeled back, terrible layer by layer, like you wrapped a hand around your heart and ripped it out your chest. And yet you’re glowing, newly-bitten with something that feels like freedom.

“I thought you said I was perfect,” Joshua says, the pink of his lips already unraveling into a smile. This one, you think, finally reaches his eyes.

“Shush, you—” And amongst a chorus of Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! (which would be, quite frankly, humiliating in any other scenario), you finally give in to your adoring public, and kiss.

—

The walk back to your bedroom is a blur. All you remember are hands—hands on the small of your back, hands riding up the length of your thigh, hands in your hair, pulling at your roots. You remember hands, and the taste of Joshua’s mouth.

It’s a walk you are not proud of, one that you’re glad happened in the dark, with all the guests gone home.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you are?” Joshua says, pressed to the hollow of your neck as you fumble with the handle of the door to your room. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you. No one could.”

Then his lips on yours, before you finally remember how to open a door.

“Fuck, Josh,” you breathe between kisses, stumbling backwards until your back hits the vanity. “Need you, need you so bad.”

He bites your lip, lets you sigh into his mouth.

“Dress, off,” you tell him, and you lean forward on the table. Obediently, Joshua gets to work. His touch feels fiery, electric on your skin.

In the mirror, you’re able to see the damage: your lipstick, smudged beyond repair, your blown-out pupils under your heavy lashes. There’s a hickey on your collarbone.

“Now you have me wishing you'd wear one of those party dresses,” Joshua murmurs, still working at the lacing at your waist. “Far easier to take off.”

“Really. The same ones that got me in big trouble with you lot?"

"For what it's worth," he replies, before kissing the back of your neck, then the ticklish space under your ear to make you laugh. "I always liked you in those. Even before we met."

"No way." He’s finished with the lacing; your dress falls to your feet in a glorious heap of silk and lace, leaving you in your slip. Another kiss to your jaw, your cheek. "You hated them."

"I almost bought a copy of Insider, the one with the cover of you in the black dress with the long sleeves."

"Shut up," you laugh again, somewhere in between kisses. He’s talking about Soonyoung's new year's eve party, a few years back. You were getting out the back of a cab, alcohol-flushed and on a phone call with God knows who. "I still have it, you know. I could wear it for you one of these days."

"Don't tempt me." Joshua kneels, bending down to undo your heels. You feel him press his lips to the back of your knee, your thigh. “Friday. Dinner?”

“Done.”

Then he stands back to full height and leans into you, just so you can feel him. Like clockwork, your skin prickles wonderfully even just thinking about blowing him in the back of the limo, that night he had held you down on his cock.

Joshua must see how you squeeze your legs together. He pushes your slip up over the curve of your ass; you feel the rough of his hands over your skin, over the flimsy lace you have on for underwear. Then, before you can say a word, he pulls the waistband back, meanly, enough to tug on the hood of your clit, and lets it snap back against your skin.

“Oh, fuck,” you keen. You had no idea you were so sensitive, but Joshua’s foreplay game was way better than you thought. “Please, Shua.”

“Oh? So you like when I'm a little mean?”

You watch your face in the mirror flush pink, your bitten lips fall open in surprise. He pulls tight on your panties again, loving how your eyes squeeze shut.

“Maybe.” You pause, humiliated. Fuck it, the cat’s already out of the bag. “Yeah.”

Joshua’s hands are warm, so warm, when they peel the fabric down your trembling thighs.

“Legs apart, darling,” he tells you, mouth pressed to your shoulder. “So you like to boss me around the castle, but now you want me to tell you what to do? Is that so?”

Before you can answer, you feel a finger along the seam of your cunt. You can’t see Joshua’s face in the mirror, but you can sure see yours, and you hate how even the smallest of touches has you drooling. Then a touch to your swollen clit, just rough enough to draw a gasp from you.

“I-it’s different,” you protest. Two fingers now, both rolling your clit under them. A whimper tumbles out of your chest, and your hips seem to be moving on their own accord. “Didn’t know you had…experience.”

“Still not sure what made you think otherwise.” A quiet chuckle, then the slow, agonizing push of one of his fingers inside you. “Fuck, you love that, huh? Soaking my hand.”

“Yeah…” The vanity table suddenly feels too crowded to support the weight of your body, especially like this, as Joshua continues to work your clit with his other digit. Feeling your body surge again with heat, you push aside your makeup bag, all your stupid little bottles, so you can prop yourself up on your arms.

Another finger, and your legs are shaking. Quickly, he seems to have figured out how to hit your g-spot every time, every pump of his hand knocking into you just the way you like.

“I think it was how annoying you were that did you in,” you finally answer, trying your best to put up a fair fight. “Kinda detracts from your sex appeal.”

“Annoying?” Joshua asks, right up against the shell of your ear. like this, you can see him in the mirror, and it almost sends you over. the dark hair in his face, the insatiable look in his eyes. Then a third finger, and your eyes roll back. “Am I annoying you? Doesn’t really seem like it.”

Your body answers for you. You feel yourself tighten around his fingers, fuck, you’re so close, you feel your head start to spin. You watch your reflection shake her head, glassy-eyed and dumb.

He laughs cruelly. His free hand reaches up to find your tits, and, over the slip, he grabs one, rough like he’s a meaner man, like he’s slutting you out.

At once, you feel the lightning heat of your release. You cry out, airy and high-pitched, and feel your body rock against Joshua’s as he pins you between himself and the vanity.

“There you go,” he murmurs. His hand slows, letting you ride out your high, before he pulls out. “Wanted to do this ever since I kissed you that night.”

“Which night?” you ask, catching your breath. A kiss to your shoulder blade, the nape of your neck.

“The night you taught me to kiss. Or rather, tried to.”

“You needed lessons.”

“Not really, don’t you think?”

“Bed. You’re talking too much,” you insist, turning around to see him. “Also, you’re wearing too much.”

“Back to arguing with me, I see. Can’t stay away.” Joshua’s shit-eating grin prompts you to yank his tie impatiently, shutting him up. It comes off easily, just as his belt and the waistband of his slacks. (You weren’t about to let them best you a second time).

“Maybe ‘cause you find a way to be difficult about everything.” You wrinkle your nose, and Joshua’s grin only grows wider. “Don’t make me give you another order,” you warn, fully aware that since you guys got here, it’d been him doing the orders.

You pull your slip over your head, now only in your bra, and lay back in the bed. You think of all the sleepless nights, then the ones spent talking, the ones in his arms. To think they would all culminate to this, to you now watching Joshua undo button by button with a desire unlike any other you’ve felt—it would almost be unbelievable if you weren’t doing it right now.

Like a striptease, you watch his chest peek out between the linen of his shirt. He's wearing a necklace today, one that settles meanly between his pecs. As he moves lower, you can’t help but notice the outline of his cock in his briefs, the spot of precum on the fabric.

Traitorously, you feel your mouth water. The shirt comes off, and your lungs fill with another shaky breath.

You know you’re both letting your freak flag fly (one of you more surprising than the other) but it’s in this moment, caught in the lamplight, that you realize how much things have really changed. Still, you’re not able to tell Joshua that this is the first time you’re sleeping with someone you might be in the L word with, but you think he sees it too, or at least, reads the look on your face.

You feel the dip of the bed underneath as he joins you.

“Are you ok? That wasn’t too much, right?”

“No, it was…it was good. really good,” you admit, feeling your face heat up again. “I just…I dunno. I like you a lot, that’s all.”

“Hm?”

“I—” you stutter, and your mouth freezes up again. “I said I like you a lot.”

“Sorry, I just wanted to hear you say it twice.” He sees the dismay on your face and smiles. “Hm…I like you an adequate amount. On a good day.”

Against your will, you crack the fattest smile you think your body is capable of. “You are the worst. The absolute worst, and I still want you to fuck me.”

Upon hearing this, Joshua does not waste time. That he does—it isn’t long before he has your knees hiked to your chest, cock between your pussy lips.

“Say you want it,” he whispers. You feel the cold kiss of his chain on your chest, the slick rock of his length between your legs. He's so hard, so big, your cunt already aches at the thought of it.

“Want it.” Your voice comes out small, breathy. You would fight back, but you’re realizing you quite like this side of him. “Please.”

When the head of his cock presses into you, there is no hiding. Already, you moan, sweet and loud, feeling the familiar pressure in your gut.

“K-keep going,” you babble. Fuck, he barely fit in your mouth and now he’s stuffing your cunt. You wrench your eyes shut, listening to him talk you through it (—Look at you taking me so well. Feels good, huh? You’re so beautiful. Honestly, it’s a miracle Joshua’s ex never had a royal baby with how much they must have fucked.)

Your second orgasm comes quickly, not long after Joshua bottoms out. He groans right in the space where your neck meets your shoulder, and it’s the best noise you think you’ve heard in your life.

The third comes slowly, more intensely. With your knees to your chest, you think you can feel Joshua all the way in your stomach. Every stroke fucks the sound out of you, his cockhead right up against your g-spot as he fills you again and again. Sometime between orgasm two and three, he’s pulled your tits out from your bra, left marks across your chest.

“Want you to touch yourself,” he tells you, voice low.

Mindlessly, you listen. One hand finds your nipple, the other your clit, and you let yourself get lost in the feeling.

“F-feels good, Shua.” He enters you again, all the way, and the pleasure is white-hot. “O-oh, fuck,” you warble.

“You’re so good at listening to me, you should do it all the time,” he murmurs. “There you go. Take it, take it, just like that. This must be what I have to do to get you to be nice, hm?”

All you can do is stare up at him, positively fucked dumb, and take it, just as he told you to. One, two strokes, and you feel yourself get impossibly tight; “Fill me, need it, need it,” you whine, delirious. Everything from the look in his eyes, the flushed sweat over his brow, his collarbones to the way his expression responds with every word you say, makes you wonder why you wasted time fucking anyone else.

When he comes, he bites your shoulder, hard, and it’s what you need to follow soon after. You feel so fucking full, so satisfied, you think you could die happy here.

Joshua flops down on the bed next to you, boneless. You think he’s about to say something akin to that you should have put a towel down, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls your body to him, lets you feel the warmth of his skin play against yours.

He’s murmuring wonderful things to you, which you would gladly reciprocate if words weren’t coming to you one letter a minute. It’s not your fault though—you need to recover physically, emotionally, spiritually after getting the soul fucked out of you.

Then, “Me or you shower first?”

You groan as a response.

“I’m serious.”

“Together?” you offer weakly.

“Fair chance we won’t just be showering then.”

“Oh nooo.”

That’s all Joshua needs to whisk you to the bathroom, where, indeed, he seems to be right yet again.

—

The spring morning washes over Acros like a second skin. The birdsong rouses you; through the curtains comes sunlight from the garden, spackled on the wall as if spots on a doe.

It’s been almost a year since your parents had told you that you were marrying Joshua Hong, prince of Acros. Six months since he had told you he had loved you. Two months since you and Jeonghan had pulled off your first joint production at the youth theater (a roaring success). One month since you were fully, fully moved in, Astrid and Jihoon included.

After your engagement ball, you and Joshua had agreed to take it slow, as slow as two people who had very publicly announced their wedding could. But still, somehow your parents, both sets, could tolerate the two of you wanting to do things the right way. Perhaps they were still shocked things worked out as well as they did.

“Morning,” you call out. The bed beside you is cold. “Josh?”

You’re surprised he’s up. Last night, he went out with you, Somi, and Soonyoung. Somehow, he had drunk enough to get up and solo karaoke a Whitney Houston song, although you’re suspecting the alcohol was just a cover for his true intentions.

Then you look out the window. You spot Joshua, seated on the bench overlooking the garden. This time of year, the roses are in full bloom, their bright heads reaching for the sky in brilliant red and gold.

When you go to join him outside, he’s no longer at the bench. You actually don’t know where the fuck he went, but it’s no matter. Here, you’re able to appreciate the beauty of the season, the rolling green of the country you’re now calling home.

It was also here where you had your first real conversation with Joshua without fighting, funnily enough. Now, you’d say the both of you were more agreeable, but that’d be a lie—somehow, you think you actually enjoy bickering with him, but that’s a conversation for another day.

Behind you, someone (Joshua) clears his throat.

“Now, what are you—” you say, spinning around. It was too damn early for games, but Joshua had no shortage of bad ideas.

It’s then that you see Joshua behind you, on one knee. His smile tells you everything you have to know, and every thought in your mind freezes in an instant.

“When I first saw you, I knew I would marry you,” he starts. That's a joke he’s probably been saving for months now, but instead of rolling your eyes, you can’t help but laugh, like you’re a broken soundboard. “No, really.”

You stand there, immovable. Of course you had to be in your pajamas (his shirt and boxers, really), no makeup, hair untouched. And yet, you can’t imagine anything more perfect.

“You drive me crazy,” Joshua continues. “In every way possible. I can't imagine life without your laugh, or your thinking face, or how you always need to have an answer for everything.”

He produces a small box. It’s different from the first one, the one he used all those months ago when nothing mattered. Inside it, a new ring, something far simpler and more beautiful.

Joshua says your name, wonderful and reverent in his mouth. “Darling princess of Cotria, I'm asking you to marry me. Again.”

And you say yes, for the very first time.

[END]

#peach.recs #mutuals #lily #everyone read both parts rn like i promise itll make everything so much better

435 notes · View notes

cebwrites · 2 years ago

Note

this is a bit of an oddball request but if youre comfortable writing for him: anything with paulie (from water 7) with an s/o who likes to tease him?? just absolutely turning that boy into a puddle on the floor in any way u see fit. either a gn or m reader is fine and it can be either a drabble or just headcanons (whatever is easiest 4 u!!) thank u so much lol im feelin a little embarrassed and shy abt this

not much, but it's always a treat to tease these silly little guys <3 there's no need to feel embarrassed anon, we're all living in self indulgence here! ψ(｀∇´)ψ (i included everyone’s favorite star clown to fill some space, i hope you don’t mind 💕)

with a teasing s/o (Paulie, Buggy)

masc reader, fluff word count: 0.4k

Paulie

Paulie is what the Galley-La likes to refer to as: Chickenshit - All Bark No Bite. He talks big about the game he pulls, particularly after more than a few drinks at Blueno’s bar, but the moment he does get into a relationship? Oh, he’s a certified sap.

He’s a cheesy, sappy, old fashioned romantic with chocolates and a bouquet of roses, writing poems for his love all day but never sending them because he doesn’t feel like they’re worth much. If and when his a partner does find these cute little love notes, and rightfully thinks they’re adorable, Paulie’s going to dissolve where he stands and never recover. His boyfriend teases him about it in subtle ways, quoting lines at him when they’re out in public together, just holding hands down the streets of Water Seven, cuddling with him on the couch at home until Paulie turns bright red at his own, ridiculously saccharine words - the one place he’s been prohibited from doing this, though, is while Paulie’s on the job, because the last time it happened the poor shipwright missed a nail and his thumb was the size of a lime for a week.

He also collapses at arguably very standard PDA.

Buggy

So, so very easy to tease.

Just like Paulie, though to a much more overblown degree, Buggy brags endlessly about how many potential suiters flock to his side inflating his reputation in his gullible follower’s eyes while anyone else easily sees through his façade. Having the man who holds his heart proudly proclaim that he’s an Emperor’s partner is one thing, but to have that emphasis being put on Buggy himself is another entirely. He tries to hide is reaction but at the end of the day this is Buggy we’re talking about, there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that he’s going to fly into the predictable bombastic spiel of,

‘O-Of he’d be glad to wear the title of MY boyfriend, an-anyone would-- I’m the GREAT Buggy-sama! Gyaaahahaha!!’

Face the same complexion as his nose underneath that Buggy hopes to god no one points out, that same boyfriend smiling endearingly at him with his arms crossed from the sidelines. Buggy doesn’t get nearly as flustered as Paulie does with PDA, at least being able to handle having his partner on his lap while he leans back in his throne, but if he’s given any sort open physical affection like kisses, his partner running his hands through those surprisingly luscious locks, or leaning close to whisper sweet praises against the side of Buggy’s neck - the steam from this poor clown’s ears would put the Puffing Tom to shame.

325 notes · View notes

purecantarella · 3 years ago

Text

Heaven in Hell

so for day two the prompt was present! one thing about the finale that bothered me was the confrontation with poppy right before you hook up with her. it could've been played off more romantic to make the ending a little more satisfying, so that's what i decided to do! i won't include the smut bit because half of my soul is still in the trenches right now, and im avoiding writing smut. sorry bout that, lovelies. poppy (jeon somi faceclaim) x bea (MC) disclaimer/s : cursing and derogatory language. if you meet a poppy min sinclair in real life, slap her once for yourselves then send her over to me so i can date her thank u.

Once you were sure that Zoey and Ina were out of sight, you returned your focus to the wannabe blonde barbie in front of you. You two were short of snarling at each other like wild animals when you shoved her back. The blonde quickly regained her bearings before she glared her beady little eyes at you, breathing heavily while she did so.

“Will the day ever come when you don’t ruin everything for me?” She asked, stomping back up to your face, her perfectly manicured eyebrows furrowed in the most unbecoming way. Her finger was now pressed against the center of your chest accusatorially. The rage in her burned even brighter when you grinned smugly down at her, taking her dainty hand in yours. “God, I hope not.”

While the tiny voice in your head argued not to piss her off even more but there was just something endearing about the angry look on her face that just made you so giddy. You saw her clench her jaw. With her free she tried with whatever strength she had left to shove you away to no avail.

You were surprised to see her glare softening ever so slightly but the venom and purpose in her voice never faltered. “Why do you have to make my life so much harder, intrepid little farmhand?” Poppy forced out, forcing emphasis onto every word. You felt your eye twitch. YOU’VE made HER life harder? Was this bitch for real?

Your grip on her hand tightened as you forcibly pulled her closer, her floral perfume now filling your senses and you glare at her. “Maybe if you’d cared a little more about your actions and how they affected people other than yourself, this never would have happened!” You practically snarled in her face.

She was mere inches away from you at this point but she stopped resisting. You took this to mean to continue. “You picked a fight with me at every turn and sometimes, yeah it was a fucking pleasure to undermine you. But I didn’t always want to!” Her eyes went wide at your sudden confession.

“There were fucking times I thought that you were more than your rich-bitch-better-than-everyone persona, that you were capable of human emotion other than rage. But you proved to me that I always needed to keep my guard up around you.” You paused to catch your breath, you were both absolutely heaving at this point from the rage that bubbled between the both of you. But you stared into her dark eyes, like you have so many times before, “I absolutely loathe you, Bea Hughes.”

For some odd reason, you couldn’t fight the smirk that was beginning to form on your lips as you watched her lips curl up as well. “Oh I absolutely hate you too, Poptart.” The blonde scoffed and rolled her eyes at the nickname, but there was no hostility, and you found yourself smiling. “I hate you so, sooo much.”

Poppy pulled you down to press your lips together. It was an odd feeling. It wasn’t like any of the kisses you’d shared with her before. All of the other ones were heated, hunger-driven, and depraved, threatening one another with no words. Now though, it was delicate and soft. You wrapped your arm around her waist, hoisting her up a little higher to deepen the kiss. Her hand moving to play with the baby hairs you had at the back of your neck.

Suddenly, she pulled away, biting your lip back gently. A smile on her face, one of the most genuine ones you’d ever seen from her. Poppy stared at you with those brown eyes, for the first time they had no malice or rage behind them, “I hate every single thing about you, Farmsville.” You nodded slowly as you pressed a defiant kiss to her cheek, continuing to press light kisses on her supple skin. “Likewise, you bitter skank.”

The blonde leaned into your touch, enjoying the attention you gave her. “I hate your homely little face.” She listed before running a hand through your hair as you made your way to her ear. Nipping and leaving more kisses on her now reddening ears. You hummed softly. “Ditto times a thousand…” You muttered, not really paying much attention at this point anymore.

“Your voice makes me want to manually grate my ears off.” Poppy groaned as you began to leave red marks on her jaw. The rich young woman giggles softly as you leaned back, a dopey grin on your face. You leaned in and took her lips against yours again, a light hearted air now swirling between you both. The heat of the argument now completely gone. In its place was a a somehow magical aura from the both of you. You pulled away as Poppy continued her rant.

“And you want to know what the worst thing about you is, Farmsville…?” She asked, her voice delicate as she peppered you flushed face with kisses. You chuckled and tucked a piece of her blonde hair back behind her ear. “Tell me…” You muttered, now giving Poppy your full attention.

Her award-winning smile grew when she pecked your lips again gently. “That no matter what I do, I can’t bring myself to even despise you anymore.” You smiled, satisfied with the confession, you nudge your nose beside hers, staring into the eyes you used to genuinely loathe with so much adoration and affection.

“Good, cause this is my heaven in hell.”

The both of you soon retired to your room for some…rest and recreation lets say. Before you finally, finally, enjoyed your last night of senior year, with the biggest bitch you’d ever met in your life on your arm.

so i'm living vicariously through fanfiction again HAHAHAH i hope yall enjoyed this and that you arent tired of my usual writing formula. this was the ending that was genuinely robbed from us and it makes me sayd AHHAHAH hope you're all keeping safe and i will see you all soon, my lovelies❣️ - r

#queen b poppy #queen b book 2 #poppy x mc #poppy min sinclair #poppy min-sinclair #queen b playchoices #playchoices #boppy #poppy x bea #poppyweekend #poppy weekend #purecantarella

92 notes · View notes

seiwas · 1 year ago

Text

ari this is so tender 🥺

i love love loveee hurt/comfort fics and this was just soooo 🥺🥺

satoru would so be the type to have a hard time apologising!! and he'd try to make light of things until it reaches the breaking point too 🥺 i'd imagine this is mostly how arguments go ngl 🥺 but then!! when he notices that it's serious and he's actually hurt feelings, even if he knows what to do, i think he'd still have a hard time admitting it 🥺 i think it's a pride thing honestly

you get his dialogue so on point here!! i can actually hear him 😭

(aw, what’s wrong? can’t sleep without me after all, huh?) <- he rlly would say this pls

”you’re ridiculous.”

”you know you won’t be able to fall asleep without me. can’t we just make up already?” <- i'd ignore him more lol

”there. i apologized, now will you please just come to bed?” <- and if he does this im not looking at him at all ajsfbsadf HOW ANNOYING

”… i can’t sleep without you.” ”… please?” <- omg i got butterflies from this tho....

and the way you described him!! omg

chest bare, wearing only a flimsy pair of sleeping shorts, he looks at you with tired eyes. exasperation painted onto his dishevelled features. then he clicks his tongue, voice raspy and rich with fatigue. <- SLEEPING SHORTS HELLLOOO?!?! but he looks tired too 🥺 what a babie 🥺

resting his jaw on the heel of his palm, satoru tilts his head. soft locks of white hair follow the movement, falling over his eyes, a little more tousled than usual. like he’s been tossing and turning, sprawled out on the bedroom mattress. <- the small details like this ari!! i think they add so much nuance to everything!! a little more tousled than usual bc he's restless :( cmon pls :(

a moment passes. satoru bites his lip, teeth sinking softly into the flesh; a little pang of ache, but it’s nothing compared to the twist of discomfort in his chest. <- honestly this is making me so soft for him too jsfbshaj idt i can fight him but also. if he knows me this much maybe i would..... HAHAHAH

he's also so loverboy. so whipped even tho he might not really want to admit it while you're fighting 🥺

he can see you clearly; messy hair that he yearns to ruffle, a crease between your brows that he yearns to smooth away; (he can’t sleep, either.) <- PLS all he's thinking abt is you i just KNOW IT

satoru’s fingers twitch, as if urging him to pull you close. he almost glares at the cushion in your arms, that you’re hugging so fondly, putting all your body weight on — snuggling into it in search of comfort and warmth.; (that should be his chest.) <- i also LOVEEE these little thoughts of his in parentheses LIKE!! ofc he gets jealous of everything you touch and hold 😭 if it's not him he's having NONE of it

he’s tired. eyes heavy with lost sleep, glimpses of would-be nightmares he knows he’d have were he to fall asleep right now. an anxious lump has long since formed in the back of his throat, and he misses you. misses your presence, your warmth. misses the feeling of having you close, the knowledge that you haven’t left yet.(without you, he can’t —) <- knoWLEDGE YOU HAVEN'T LEFT YET?!?!? HETLLLOO?!?!? THAT'S SO SAD ARI PLS

THEN HE!!! the way you described their affection 🥺 oh ari i am such a sucker for tenderness 🥺 absolutely weak for it!!!

a soft grin blooms on his lips, and he opens his arms wide — silently beckoning you to fall into his embrace.a raspy coo tiptoes on his tongue. ”c’mere.” <- opening his arms wide??? for u to fall into??? oh my god and he says c'mere too??!??!>!?!? it's over for me

scooping you up with ease, as if you weigh absolutely nothing, tucking you into his warm embrace. smothering you in his cushiony chest. <- yeah..... yeah...... yeah..............

almost instinctively, your arms go to wrap around his neck, cheek smushed against the warm skin of his shoulder. if you strain your ears, you think you can hear the soft patter of his heartbeat. he smells of the tiramisu you ate before going to bed, and just a hint of expensive cologne. he smells of comfort. <- and this oh my god i felt sooo much comfort from this line?? like. the idea that you're so intimately close to someone you can hear their heartbeat. and their scent is familiar, something you know too well. all of these are signs pointing to 'your person', y'know?

he stands up, still holding you, and hikes your legs around his waist. breathing out a satisfied hum, before turning on his heel. ”let’s get you back to bed, baby.”; still carrying you with one arm. <- THEN THERE'S THIS. AND THIS IS SO HOT??!?!!? UM. HELLO!???! HIKING LEG UP????? BACK TO BED B-b-bABY?!?!? im weak. and carrying u with one arm>??? OOOOOOOOOFF . he isn't the strongest for nothing if

unable to stop himself, he broaches the distance between you, leaning close to kiss the top of your nose. and you squeeze your eyes shut at the gesture, face scrunching up, but it only makes him chuckle. ”my pretty, pretty girl.” <- he did NAWT. OH MY GOD. ARI..... p-pretty... g-girl..... my weakness (AGAIN)...... i am a mess rn...

and of course, your descriptions as always ari!!

it takes time, and perseverance — but eventually, the road to sleep does seem to brighten on the horizon. crawling closer and closer, lulling you into its embrace, while all you can do is lie there. <- you take casual, seemingly simple actions and turn them into vivid imagery!! and that's amazing!! a thesaurus i'm telling ya!! it's like words just flow out of you!! like a steady stream!!!

that palpable fatigue in your words sends a tremor running through his chest, discomforting, a shiver of his heart. you won’t look at him anymore, and the hint of finality in your tone makes him feel slightly dejected. <- a shiver of his heart!!! what a pretty line!!!!

also. i laughed so hard at this: okay, nevermind. you hope the ceiling fan falls on him. <- HAHAHAHA this is how i feel abt him sometimes.....

i always feel like you breathe beauty in the things you write ari. i don't fully know how to articulate it, but it feels like visual art in a way. like i'm reading a painting. or a movie scene. 🥹

i can’t close my eyes alone ; satoru gojo

synopsis; arguing with satoru is always exhausting. bitter and spiteful, you leave him in the bedroom and go find another place to sleep; your couch would be the obvious choice, but where’s the fun in that?

word count; 4.2k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, f!reader (he calls you ’stubborn girl’ n ’pretty girl’ but other than that it’s gn!!), toru and reader have a fight, reader sleeps in the bathtub (don’t ask it came to me in a vision), hurt/comfort, he's doing his best :<, fluff!!

a/n; smth abt …. arguing w satoru gojo ……. idk why the concept has possessed me in the way that it has i just think hurt/comfort w toru is <33

okay, so maybe this wasn’t the best idea you’ve ever had.

in your defense, you weren’t exactly thinking straight; fueled by spite, eager to get far away, and admittedly a little curious as to how it would feel, the decision was made almost purely on impulse. and stupidity, probably.

it’s not comfortable at all.

maybe it could be. maybe if you had just a couple more pillows, a fluffier blanket with a cozier texture. maybe if you had something soft to put beneath you, another blanket or a comforter or — whatever. maybe if you had a warm cup of tea to drink. maybe if you had something warm to hug to sleep.

or someone.

(aw, what’s wrong? can’t sleep without me after all, huh?)

— nope. you are not going back there.

just the thought of how smug he’d get makes you bite the inside of your cheek, increasing your already growing frustrations. in desperate search of a more comfortable position, you nuzzle further into the pillow, but nothing works.

your limbs feel stiff, and your bones can’t seem to relax, a discomforting numbness seeping into your spine. and it’s cold. the feeling of porcelain against your skin keeps you tossing and turning, akin to an icy winter breeze, caressing the apple of your cheek.

still, there’s simply no other option. under absolutely no circumstances can you turn back now. not when you’ve come this far, when you can almost begin to sense an inkling of sleep’s familiar call, the drowsy flutter of your eyelashes.

it takes time, and perseverance — but eventually, the road to sleep does seem to brighten on the horizon. crawling closer and closer, lulling you into its embrace, while all you can do is lie there. completely at its mercy, exhaustion ghosting your subconscious, eyelids ripe with fatigue.

slowly but surely, your consciousness begins to fade. tenderly, soothingly, like a curtain over your eyes being slowly unveiled. you can almost taste it, on the tip of your tongue; sleep is only a moment away.

soon, you’ll fall into that cozy abyss. and then you’ll open your eyes, and the morning sun will greet you. it’ll be a new day, a better day.

so you keep your eyes closed, and sink a little further into the plush of your pillow, and —

the light flickers on.

in the state you’re in, tiptoeing on the edge between dreams and reality, so tantalizingly close to falling asleep, the brightness is positively grating. even through your shut eyes, it invades your senses — a glow so irritating it’s startling. the bathroom lights mock you with their shine, illuminating your figure, curled up in the tiny bathtub.

the whine you let out is involuntary, coaxed out from deep within your throat, as the uncomfortable sensation rouses you from your would-be slumber.

satoru raises an unimpressed eyebrow, where he stands by the door.

”you’re ridiculous.”

the judgemental tilt of his voice only makes the annoyance in your veins bubble up once more, just when it was finally about to dwindle. eyes squeezed shut to escape the burn of the artificial light, you let out a sharp wince, burrowing your face deeper into the pillow.

”turn it off!”

ignoring your angry plea, satoru makes his way over to you. with long, slow strides, vaguely uncoordinated steps. just a little clumsy. he plops down on the edge of the bathtub, and gazes down at you.

you’re lying on your side, arms wrapped around a fluffy cushion, knees against your chest. under the illumination of the bathroom lights, he can see you clearly; messy hair that he yearns to ruffle, a crease between your brows that he yearns to smooth away.

you look awfully uncomfortable, to no one’s surprise. he isn’t sure what else you were expecting.

despite the sting of the bright lights, you force your eyes open — only to give satoru a halfhearted glare, an attempt at appearing intimidating. though you somehow doubt it’ll work.

and, just like you suspected, the dirty look you send his way doesn’t seem to scare him off. not even in the slightest. if anything, you think you catch a flicker of lazy amusement dancing through his eyes. and it irks you, it does — an itch beneath your skin, a taste of irritation on your tongue.

because satoru is looking at you like you’re somehow in the wrong, here, like you’re the one acting out. as if he isn’t the reason you’re here in the first place.

at this point, you barely even remember what the fight was about. too sleep-deprived to recall it properly, too stressed to make a genuine attempt. all you remember is getting ready for bed, and the familiar sensation of frustration prickling your skin. you remember his pretty little grin, his teasing remarks and refusal to take you seriously.

remember the way he laughed, when you told him what was bothering you; the crinkle of his eyes, the warmth of his hands reaching over to squish your cheeks. a little patronizing.

(there was no malicious intent behind it, that much you know. he probably just wanted to lighten the mood. but it irked you, all the same. hurt you, maybe. just a little bit.)

then you remember storming out. grabbing a blanket and pillow and telling him to sleep on his own, if that’s how he was going to be. the words felt cold as they left your mouth, little breathy icicles. and then you left.

which is why you’re here, right now. curled up in your goddamn bathtub, for some reason that still escapes you, trying desperately to get even a wink of sleep without your boyfriend there to help.

and that’s also why satoru is here, back a tad slouched as he sits on the edge of the bathtub, looking at you like you’re some misbehaving cat. blinking slowly, drowsily, dragged down by the fatigue clinging to his eyelashes.

(he can’t sleep, either.)

”you’re really gonna sleep in there?” he sighs, after a moment’s pause. any honest concern in his voice is almost entirely overshadowed by the sense of admonition that follows it.

a scoff falls from your lips, sharp like a razorblade. ”yes,” you deadpan, shifting to lie on your stomach, hiding away from his insistent view. ”i was sleeping just fine before you barged in here.”

satoru shoots you a look, thoroughly unimpressed, entirely unconvinced of your blatant lie. ”you’re being dumb,” he huffs. ”at least sleep on the couch.”

”i don’t wanna hear that from you,” comes a hiss, low and disgruntled. a growing irritation. ”and i’m comfortable where i am.”

another dissatisfied huff. why are you being so irrational? he just doesn’t get it. scrambling for excuses, satoru tries his hand at another tactic.

”you’ll hurt your back.”

another little scoff. oh, so now he suddenly cares? you can’t believe him.

”so what?”

a moment passes. satoru bites his lip, teeth sinking softly into the flesh; a little pang of ache, but it’s nothing compared to the twist of discomfort in his chest. you’re making this more difficult than it has to be, he thinks. always so stubborn.

what is he supposed to say? how is he supposed to convince you to come back to bed, when you’re already so set on denying him?

god, he’s tired. he just wants to sleep, close his jaded eyes. just wants to not have to think, for a couple hours, curled up with the only person who makes him feel safe. just wants to dream in soft shapes.

but if you aren’t there, then…

a deep sigh. weary, annoyed. ”c’mon,” he coaxes, blinking sluggishly. ”you know you won’t be able to fall asleep without me. can’t we just make up already?”

your nails dig into the fabric of your blanket. every word he says only seems to deepen the sense of irritation plaguing your sleep-deprived mind.

it makes you want to shut him out, bury your head in the soft sheets and forget about everything else. he keeps acting like you’re just overreacting, like you wanted to have an argument. like he wasn’t the one who made you upset and then laughed at you about it.

”i don’t need you to fall asleep,” you grumble, muffled by the pillow in your grasp, arms tightening around it. nuzzling deeper into the soft velvet comfort.

(that should be his chest.)

the gears in his head turn, slowly and mechanically, as he brings a hand up to card through his hair.

satoru hates seeing you so upset, so far away from him. having to watch you close yourself off, not allowing him to be near, soothe you and take care of you. kiss all your worries away. that’s all he wants to do, everything he needs to keep himself whole, to keep himself from being devoured by an exhaustion he’s lived with for as long as he can remember.

a strong frustration gnaws at his conscience. a certain desperation.

a big, heavy sigh leaves his lips. it bounces off the walls of the bathroom, the white tiles and shiny mirror, as he drags it out. almost childishly. then he’s angling his body to face you properly, big hands resting on his knees, a determined gaze set on your figure.

”look, i’m sorry,” he starts, rigid and earnest. blinking once, twice, chasing away the drowsy weight of his eyelids. ”i shouldn’t have laughed.”

your ears perk up.

shifting to your side as if hoping to hear him better, you peek up at him through half-lidded eyes. almost in disbelief, a kind of hope sprouting in the corners of your dilated pupils.

is he genuinely going to apologize, you wonder? admit that he was in the wrong? does he actually feel bad?

a moment passes. slow, drawn out, until satoru’s voice spills into the air again.

”there. i apologized,” he exhales, a little gruff. annoyed. ”now will you please just come to bed?”

…

wow.

okay, nevermind. you hope the ceiling fan falls on him.

beneath your skin, a mellow kind of anger bubbles up, blood slowly coming to a boiling point. he’s not sorry at all. of course he isn’t. you were stupid to think he’d actually give you a sincere apology, stupid to think he’d do the one thing that would actually make you want to fall back into his comforting embrace. stupid, stupid.

clenching your teeth, nails digging into the velvet fabric of the pillow, your eyelids flutter shut once more. only this time, you don’t plan on opening them again — at least not until morning comes. not until you see the sunkissed tiles of the bathroom, until the ache inside your chest has passed.

”satoru,” you enunciate, frigid and final. ”just let me sleep. we can talk tomorrow.” a beat. the tiniest grumble resounds from your lips, tinged with exhaustion. ”i’m too tired for this.”

under his breath, satoru winces. that palpable fatigue in your words sends a tremor running through his chest, discomforting, a shiver of his heart. you won’t look at him anymore, and the hint of finality in your tone makes him feel slightly dejected.

god, he’s awful at this. sincerity has never been his strong suit. he’s gotten better, lately, but it’s still so very foreign.

he didn’t mean to make you angry, didn’t mean to upset you. didn’t mean for the lilt of his voice to make his apology sound insincere. but that’s still what happened.

and satoru isn’t quite sure what to do.

(without you, he can’t —)

a sigh. soft, and resigned, flowing from his lips.

the inner turmoil in satoru’s mind begins to fade, slowly but surely, smoothed away by the sight of you. bundled up in a blanket too small to cover you properly, lying in that cold and cramped bathtub, discomfort evident in your features. sadness dripping from the bitter words you grace him with.

so out of reach, too far for him to follow, a boundary he wants to cross more than anything. but something about that meek expression makes him falter, makes his heart twist and turn inside his ribcage.

(he knows that you’re tired, too.)

so satoru swallows his pride.

the words are spoken in a whisper, hushed, through a voice so low you wouldn’t hear it if the silence of the bathroom wasn’t so suffocating. a soft lilt of his voice, bare and raw. meek, in a way that makes him want to crawl under a rock and die. but it’s there, and he lets you hear it; that soft little truth.

”… i can’t sleep without you.”

satoru doesn’t look at you. his confession rings in your ears, laced together with a softness you’ve come to associate with warm spring mornings and rooms so dark you can’t see his face. moments in which satoru feels safe. safe enough to be sincere.

— inevitably, your heart begins to soften.

(he’s trying. it’s difficult for him, but he’s really trying. sincerity and honesty are things that have been used against him all his life, so it’s no wonder he’d be scared.)

it’s very hard to stay mad at him, when he sounds like that. when his words come out sounding a little too much like a plea, a silent call for help.

with hesitance, you allow your eyes to flutter open, shifting a little to get a better look at him. he’s there, staring into space — the man you’ve grown to love so dearly. his tousled white hair, those slightly forlorn eyes. the vague darkness beneath them, slightly puffy skin. that tired, tired expression.

satoru taps the edge of the tub with the pads of his fingers, absentmindedly. index finger, middle finger, ring finger, over and over.

then, at last, he meets your gaze. and you think he swallows down a gulp, before smiling — it’s a pretty smile, somewhat tiny. a little sheepish, but awfully sincere. awfully satoru.

he tilts his head, gazing into your eyes with a tenderness that melts your heart to the marrow.

”… please?”

a second passes. then two.

soft and melodic, your heartbeat resounds in your ears, akin to a lullaby. like the call of a siren, coaxing you into giving in. and you’re weak, you realize, so very weak. just a smile and a tilt of his head, and you’re rendered utterly helpless.

(he’s just too pretty.)

without fully realizing it yourself, you’ve begun to move, dragging yourself up with sluggish motions. blanket still draped over your shoulders, and pillow snug against your chest, you blink. drowsily, slowly. a little meekly.

and satoru brightens.

it’s visible, in the way he physically perks up, back straightening, smile finally reaching his aquamarine eyes. a blend between hope and affection sprouts in them, slathered over with something honeyed.

a soft grin blooms on his lips, and he opens his arms wide — silently beckoning you to fall into his embrace. a raspy coo tiptoes on his tongue.

”c’mere.”

before you can make a move to do so, satoru leans over. scooping you up with ease, as if you weigh absolutely nothing, tucking you into his warm embrace. smothering you in his cushiony chest.

satoru is soft, and warm, and everything you need right now. lulling you back into that cozy, sleepy state. your very own personal dose of melanin.

with a big palm on the small of your back, satoru keeps you pressed up against his chest, as if you could change your mind and try to escape at any moment. he stands up, still holding you, and hikes your legs around his waist. breathing out a satisfied hum, before turning on his heel.

satoru smiles, and presses a kiss to the crown of your head. ”let’s get you back to bed, baby.”

after turning the bathroom lights off, he begins to walk to your shared bedroom, still carrying you with one arm. always so strong and reliable. you know for a fact that he’s not going to drop you, so you opt to close your tired eyes; stretching out your limbs, lazily, releasing a quiet yawn that makes his lips curl up.

despite your lingering frustration, you find yourself nuzzling into the crook of his neck — and satoru coos, so painfully soft that you barely even hear it. the restlessness inside his own chest washed away, by the familairity of your body against his.

and before you know it, he’s dropped you down on the mattress. gently, but still enough to make you feel a little jostled, so close to falling asleep in his arms. he drags the blanket up to cover you, tucking you in; this one is bigger, with a fluffier texture, enough to cover you both with ease.

smiling softly at the sight of you all cozy, content in the knowledge that you’re finally comfortable, satoru crawls beneath the blanket and takes his rightful place beside you. eyes crinkled at the corners, rich with affection.

two strong arms reach around your waist, to pull you flush against him, until your head meets his chest and you can hear the soft thrumming of his heartstrings. then he sighs, in pure bliss, thoroughly content. melting into your embrace, rubbing his cheek against the side of your head, nuzzling into the warmth that seeps from your body to his.

he runs his big hands down your back, affectionately, rubbing circles into your skin. coaxing you into melting a little, too.

”see, isn’t this much better?” he smiles, a little cheeky. such a tease.

”… the bathtub was fine.”

a chuckle rumbles through his chest, rich with fondness. his hand goes to card through your hair, nimble fingers smoothing down your scalp and running through the soft strands. every touch gentle, full of care. every word soaked in a syrupy sweetness.

”stubborn girl.”

despite your best wishes, you’re too tired to bite back the blissful sigh that leaves your lips. a part of you still wants to protest, to push him away —

but then you start leaning into his touch. helpless to his warm hands, his soothing voice. satoru is just a little too good at making you melt. so good that you finally begin to let your guard down, nuzzling into his bare skin, sinking a little further into the mattress.

and satoru stifles a coo.

”honestly,” he sighs, equal parts exasperated and amused. ”sleeping in the bathtub… you’re so silly.”

before you have a chance to respond, he’s pulling back — ever so slightly, just to get a better look at your face. arms looped around his neck, you blink up at him with droopy eyes, and he can’t resist the dopey grin that sneaks its way onto his lips. doesn’t even begin to try, when you look so unbearably sweet.

unable to stop himself, he broaches the distance between you, leaning close to kiss the top of your nose. and you squeeze your eyes shut at the gesture, face scrunching up, but it only makes him chuckle. smiling, honey-sweet, he admires your sleepy pout. soaks up every soft little grumble that slips from your lips.

his hand comes to cradle your cheek, thumb smoothing down your cheekbone. just gazing at you, taking you in, every single contour of your face. there is only adoration in his eyes. something silently delighted, that seeps into his words, his raspy voice.

”my pretty, pretty girl.”

a heat rushes to your cheeks. looking up at him, into those lovesick eyes, you can’t help but grow flustered.

he looks so content.

all you manage is a weak furrow of your brows, pressing a palm against his bare skin. softly, as if pushing him away, forehead meeting his chest with a soft bonk. hiding away, so he won’t see how much his words affect you.

”lemme sleep, toru…” you mumble, stifling a yawn.

unfortunately, your boyfriend is not one to give in so easily. before long, his fingertips are trailing across the skin of your jaw, coaxing you into lifting your chin. and you’re too sleepy to resist — practically melting, as he begins to smear openmouthed kisses all over your face. all you can do is close your eyes, attempting to ignore the sound of his exaggerated mwahs, frowning in a silent disapproval that you know you don’t actually mean.

satoru notices it, though. he always does.

”you still mad at me, baby?” he asks, in a way that sounds a little like he’s cooing at you. there’s a teasing tilt to his voice, but it’s also a genuine question. your frown deepens.

averting your gaze with a soft huff, even as he cradles your jaw with his slender fingers, a pout plays at your lips. under his kind eyes, you feel just a bit meek — recalling your argument from before. absentmindedly, you fidget with the waistband of his shorts, hoping to ease your nerves.

despite your valiant efforts to direct your vocal cords in a different direction, the voice that spills from your lips comes out sounding just a tad hurt.

”… you never take me seriously.”

satoru’s eyes soften.

his smile falters, by a hair, a brief stilling of movement. subtle, but hard not to pick up on. there’s a certain sense of shame in his irises, a genuine guilt stirring his heartstrings; several discomforting sensations, gnawing at the bones of his ribcage.

(you look so small.)

two hands reach out to cup your cheeks, big and warm. swallowing up your whole face. and before you can react, satoru leans in to press a sweet, chaste kiss against your lips. he tastes like tiramisu.

”’m sorry. we can talk about it tomorrow, okay?” he hums, and you can tell that he means it. ”i promise that i’ll take you seriously. for real, this time.”

as you look into those eyes of his, blue and soft around the edges, the last of your frustration is finally washed away. with a meek downward glance, and a faint nod, satoru relaxes — releasing a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. relieved at your silent forgiveness.

tomorrow, he’ll definitely make it up to you. he’ll hear you out, without opening his big mouth, or trying to skirt around any emotions that make him feel even slightly uncomfortable. smoothing a big palm down your back, he hopes you feel it as a silent apology.

for now, he’ll just hold you. he’ll hold you, and kiss all your worries away, and keep you comfy and warm. that’s his duty. the only one he’d willingly choose, the only weight on his shoulders that never feels even a little bit suffocating. the only one he wouldn’t cast away, if given the chance.

nuzzling back into the safety of his collarbone, your heartbeat settles into a drowsy rhythm, slow and serene. satoru squeezes you in a tight hug, reassuring. comforting.

he can be a handful, and a little insensitive, but you love him a lot. you can’t imagine not loving him.

”… goodnight, toru,” you whisper. ready to give into sleep’s call, at last.

satoru smiles. you can hear it in his voice, sweet and silky, a soft curl of his lips. ”goodnight, honey,” he presses a kiss against your shoulder. warm, his breath on your skin. ”i love you.”

a yawn escapes your throat. ”love you too…” you mumble, sleepily. that one soft truth, before your consciousness fades.

and satoru’s smile only grows. hopelessly, inevitably, in the same way his hands can’t help but to bring you closer. until your heart is flush against his own, and he swears he can feel your heartbeats synchronize.

finally, with those three little words, satoru should be able to go to sleep. drifting off, he can only hope you’ll still be in his arms by the time he awakens.

(then again; you always are, aren’t you?)

#jjk #satoru #this was sooo tender 🥹🥹🥹 and i love a hurt/comfort ajsbfdj #i love to see how he'd resolve it! the tension that comes with an apology!!!#his stubbornness!!#i truly think satoru would be one of the most insufferable people to get into an argument with #as if he wasn't already insufferable in the first place #AAHAHAH

1K notes · View notes