#absolutely shell shocked

[hannyoontify]

oh my god

“So here you are, standing in your nicest dress and balancing a stack of gifts you hope will amount to something, never enough but something, to repay the people who you feel have loved you more than you deserve. It's all you really have. You do your best, and yet you know when that door opens, it'll all be washed away in a high-tide flurry of hugs and laughter and the familiar press of Bobpul's wet nose against your leg. They're just those kinds of people-they would be just as happy if you didn't bring anything at all, and somehow that makes you feel even more guilty.”

i don’t evenJDJSJD i don’t even have the WORDS to describe the feelings that this paragraph made me feel. almost gut wrenching bc i completely understand what oc’s feeling? absolute perfection.

“Then you think of the pockmarked farmland beside your home, lacy with the fall harvest. Even now, you can trace the endless blue of the coastline all the way there, cut through all the maybes and just let the sound of the ocean fold you into sleep like you were a child again. You wonder if Seohyun, all the way on the other side of the world, ever misses it.”

need i say less, i think i found my new comfort (but hurt?) fic ever. the prose, the diction, the syntax?!?!? everything is sososo beautiful im absolutely gagged.

TO GROW LOVE (AND EAT IT TO THE CORE)

pairing: mingyu x gn!reader wc: 8.1k summary: your whole life, you've only wanted one thing. then you meet mingyu. suddenly you want too much, and you wish the summer never ended. notes: farmer!au, established relationship, angst/hurt/a little comfort

this is a birthday fic for my one and only cat @wuahae ! yes this is about half a year late but what can i say. all good things come with time. thank you for being so kind, funny, and thoughtful (and patient)! not a day goes by where i’m not thankful for our friendship :)

and a million thanks to hana @wqnwoos and jackie @97-liners for helping me with edits. literally you guys are insane writers and i will never stop looking up to you.

i. strawberries (the summer we were young)

When a strawberry is ripe, the seeds push out from the heart of the fruit, as if it's bursting from the inside out.

This is one of the few and only things you've learned by living in Seogwipo, where strawberry season comes like a supernova. The May sun, full and heavy, peels into summer, and the roadside farms open their doors, trying to catch stray vacationers from Jeju City on the other side of the island.

That being said, there are approximately two things to do here. One of them is farm. The other is pretend like you have a life, which is your childhood friend Yizhuo's favorite thing to do when she's back from university on summer break.

Today, this involved convincing her ritzy, too-good Seoul friends that they're missing out on this side of Jeju. (Missing out on what? You're not sure. Perhaps the chipped paint of the mural walls, or the endless flat-topped stretches of seagrass. Yizhuo isn't fooling anyone, but you've always liked stretching your legs out in the bed of her pick-up, even on the long drive to nowhere.)

Unsurprisingly, her friends quickly came to the same conclusion. Just one look at your local strawberry patch, with none of the glamour of the bloated tourist traps in the city, and they decided they'd rather spend the afternoon at the beach.

It was then, between the fragaria blooms, when you met Mingyu. He asked for your name, and the rest was history. Yizhuo and co. scattered like the grasping hands of an overripe dandelion and you learned that he was, one, the newly-graduated son of a pair of local farmers, and two, very, very attractive. Almost too much so, especially for a place like this.

Now he holds up a berry, a bright red murder between his fingers, and tells you to try it.

"You must be delusional if you think i'm taking food from a stranger," you laugh, perched on the fence bordering the field. It sprawls before you, melon stripes on the sunbaked ground.

"No, my name is Mingyu," he replies. "No idea who delusional is." His smile, all bright lip and snaggletooth, tears into the scarlet belly of a newly picked strawberry.

"We all know what happened to Persephone."

"Well, if the underworld was a strawberry patch, I wouldn't mind being stuck there for all of eternity."

"What're you picking all these for, anyway?" you ask, watching Mingyu struggle with his too-big straw hat between the vines. His woven basket bleeds over with little berries.

"Jam. I make it on the very first day of every summer."

"Why?"

"You ask a lot of questions for someone who trespassed on my farm. You're cute, but I won't let you off easy."

He laughs at how you balk, clearly red-handed. You're not sure how to tell him you don't think you were supposed to be here either. You don't do things like sit in the back of trucks, trespass, or talk to pretty farmer boys who take a fancy to you, but it's the summer before you graduate and you're not even sure how long you'll have to continue making bad decisions.

"Are you gonna take my first-born now?" you joke instead. The daylight runs down the rim of Mingyu's hat, trickles down his brow, and you wish you could pour the image of him into a jar and keep it forever.

"No, but I will invite you in for some fresh jam on toast. I baked a loaf this morning." and when you say nothing, he continues. "The strawberries are only good once a year. It's the best you'll ever have. Promise."

It's a whine and a half, and somehow you convince yourself this will be the last bad decision you'll make. You've been here long enough to know that good things don't come twice in Seogwipo, and he is unlikely to be an exception.

Yizhuo blows up your phone, you tie the gingham apron around Mingyu's tiny waist, and the basket turns to blood in the saucepan.

Mingyu is right. Love comes to you in that kitchen, high and red like the sun, and the jam never tastes as good as it does that summer.

ii. watermelon (hollowed out, like a magic trick)

"A good watermelon sounds like a heartbeat."

You watch Mingyu heave the fruit, small and striped, out of his grocery bag. It joins the array of egg sandwiches and banana milks you picked up from the store together earlier. (There should have been chocolate Pepero too, but you split the box on the walk).

You're on a picnic, sprawled out on the outcropping overlooking the water. The path up is basically right behind your house, but you had never cared to visit. It had always been the local makeout spot, a schlocky teen crawl for those with nothing better to do, and yet, with Mingyu stretched out beside you, it seems newer. More exciting.

You're still just friends, or at least that's what you told Yizhuo. But ever since you sat on Mingyu's kitchen counter and ate from his jam-covered spatula, you don't think you've gone a week without seeing him. It's been almost two months, which seems so long and yet not long enough—he makes it easy to be greedy.

"See?" He thumps the watermelon with the heel of his palm. "Try it."

You already went through this entire charade at the grocery store, right in front of all the local aunties, but you indulge him. There's little point to triple checking if it's still ripe, but you think he just likes hitting it.

"It sounds good," you say. "But how are we even gonna eat it? We don't have a knife."

"Watch this." Mingyu procures a coin from his pocket. "You didn't learn this in elementary school? I feel like everyone was doing it."

"Here?" you ask, incredulous.

"Yeah, here. I grew up here too, you know."

He holds the edge of the coin to the skin and slams his palm into it once more, so that it lodges itself into the rind, and begins dragging it around the fruit. You start to wonder if he bought the watermelon just to show you a party trick—not that you mind, though. The strain of his biceps peeks through his rolled up white tee, and you remember why he was able to stop you with just one look back when you first met.

"No way." The watermelon is so ripe, it bleeds around the incision. "I feel like I know everyone here. And I definitely would have remembered you."

"I was probably, like, two grades above you," he replies. "And my parents shipped me off to live with my cousins after elementary school. They said I should get out of Seogwipo and experience the real world."

"Good call. There's nothing here." You watch Mingyu spin the melon over to cut through the other side. The coin catches the sunlight, and it looks like gold. "I wish I left for university. The one here is so small."

"Really?" He pauses to show you his handiwork. The two melon halves roll over on their backs, their cut edge cruel and jagged. "Cool, huh?"

"Impressive," you say. "Honestly. I really didn't think that would work."

"I didn't either when I first saw someone do it. But I’ll try anything once," he replies, ripping open the packaging of the plastic spoon from the bag. "I can't believe you don't like it here."

"You do?"

"Yeah. A lot." He shoves the spoon in his mouth, and you watch the watermelon juice pool around his lips. "I missed home. The trees and the tall grass and the ocean. All the fruits. Everything. I learned to ride a bike, right down there by the water."

"Hm." He passes you the spoon. You don't want to hog it, so you carve out a piece bigger than you need. "Are you gonna work at the farm?"

"Maybe. Haven't decided yet," he says. "I think I want to be here, though. Maybe do something with food, but I want to be home."

"That's funny, because I think I’ve always wanted to live a different life. Or at least one somewhere else."

"You want to go to law school, right?"

"Yeah." Mingyu is right. The watermelon is all sugar, and you would almost feel guilty for eating it if it wasn't technically good for you. "I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer. It's something about the people watching, I think."

"That’s really cool," Mingyu says, mouth full but no less sincere. It's then that you notice your shoulders are almost touching, and your heart crawls back up to your mouth. "You know what you want. I admire that."

He makes it sound like a compliment, but you're sure it's a curse.

You think of your parents. There's a permanent wrinkle ironed into their foreheads, the paper crease of expectations and high standards. It's not that they didn't care, but their kind of care was a humbled sort, made heavy by a hard life. It didn't help that your big sister Seohyun went straight from Yonsei to work a big tech job in San Francisco and never once looked back.

But you can't blame any of them—wanting has always been a hereditary failing. Sometimes Yizhuo will catch you frowning at nothing, and then you remember that life isn't a performance and every day ends at the same time no matter how hard you work. But you don't know how to tell her that the only thing you can do sometimes is want, because otherwise you wouldn't really have much at all.

It seems like the exact opposite of how Mingyu lives—everything about him seems to pass like the seasons. Maybe that's why you can't seem to get enough of each other.

"Thank you. Really." You dig the spoon into your half of the melon. There isn't much left. "You're way too nice to me."

"It’s not hard to be," he laughs. "Maybe you're just too hard on yourself."

You're losing track of the distance between the two of you. You can almost feel the heat playing off his skin.

"Maybe."

It's then, under the veil of summer, where you meet Mingyu's gaze and, finally, things seem close to simple.

All you know are his eyes, heavy with sun, and then the slow, slow move of his lips against yours. He tastes like August, long and sweet, and for once you know what it's like to not only want, but to have, and to have again.

The ocean sings on the horizon, and the watermelon bellies weep.

iii. adzuki beans (or, the blood of a headless taiyaki)

Mingyu eats taiyaki headfirst because he says it hurts less.

"That makes no sense," you tell him, your pinkies linked. You never really liked holding hands, but yours fits so perfectly in Mingyu's and there's some girlish, childlike shine to it when you watch his finger search for yours after just a moment separated.

"What do you mean."

He breaks your gaze to eye a red bean taiyaki, like an unwilling predator sizing up their prey. It's the lamest, most embarrassing iteration of National Geographic you've ever seen, and yet you cannot find any fiber within yourself not deeply in love with the lion.

Fall is a forgiving place for your relationship to settle. You're now a senior at university and he's started his gap year. Gap implies he's in the middle of something, but in true Mingyu fashion, he leaves it up to fate, or chance, or something not nearly as kind (whim).

"Taiyaki isn't alive. And why would you want to pretend it is? Eating gummy bears would become an extinction event."

"It kind of is." He holds out the tail end of the taiyaki, the pastry almost explicitly flayed open, in front of you to eat. "Why does the Haribo bear have a face? Why do the gummy bears live in a gummy forest?"

"Great, so now I can’t even enjoy gummy bears without feeling like a serial killer?"

You dig your pointer into his shoulders, broad from all the time he spends on the farm. To think that his hands, big and weathered, were made to pick berries (and now wrap around your pinky finger) is bruising, if not ridiculously funny.

"It's a crime of passion. Gummy passion. Prosecute that."

He kisses your cheek and your heart almost squeezes into two.

The terrible thing about being with Mingyu is how seemingly endless his affection is. Now he's feeding you in public and buying the two of you matching socks (cat and dog, to be exact), although you'll admit it's a little charming, even if the neighbors do gossip.

He's sweet, too sweet, and his kisses stick to the back of your throat.

But you can't be fooled. There's an unsaid violence to the way Mingyu loves. (The meticulous spiral of the peel he carves when you ask for him to cut you an apple. The grind, decisive and cruel, of a knife against a cutting board. A pair of canines against your neck, your jaw.)

Even now, he bites the head off another unwitting taiyaki before stuffing it back in the bag.

"We're still splitsing, right?" he says, with perhaps 1% of his mouth available for speaking and the other 99% murder machine.

Splits, he always says before you share food. You never had the heart to tell him that it's in the same family as mines or sharesies or takebacks—silly childhood relics, ones that no one uses anymore because they don't mean anything.

This time, you don't hear him because you're thinking about the law school fair you went to before Mingyu picked you up. The future is so close, it scares you. A year from now, what ground would you be standing on? Would it smell like this—the peat, the thread-spool fields, the balm of the ocean? Would you still have Mingyu's finger wrapped round yours?

"Have you decided if you're staying at the farm?" you ask.

"Not really." He uses the back of his hand to wipe off his chin. "If my sister decides to take over, I’m actually kinda thinking of going to pastry school instead of getting a masters."

Mingyu had been toying with the idea for some time after you had talked about it on the outlook. It started off as a joke (September; a galette), then a what if (October; green tea mochi), and now it sits at a kinda.

"Kinda?"

The word gathers speed in the pachinko machine of your mind. You never liked being a kinda person. For Mingyu, it seems like a luxury of a word, but for you, it's really just another thing to hide behind. Kinda talented, kinda ambitious, kinda just there. You're always one foot in, one foot out of something better.

"Yeah, kinda. Why?"

"I dunno. What if we both end up leaving?"

"Maybe. You still want to, right?"

You would be lying if you said you didn't—it's what you always wanted. Seogwipo has been a sun-rot, too-small crutch for you, but you would also be lying if you said you weren't terrified that you'd eventually come back, limping like some doomed Icarus, unable to truly make it in the real world.

Then you think of the pockmarked farmland beside your home, lacy with the fall harvest. Even now, you can trace the endless blue of the coastline all the way there, cut through all the maybes and just let the sound of the ocean fold you into sleep like you were a child again. You wonder if Seohyun, all the way on the other side of the world, ever misses it.

"I’m not sure," you say, because, as much as you don't like it, it's the only answer you have.

"It's ok. You'll figure it out. You always do." He squeezes your cheeks together between his thumb and index, laughing at how they pillow out underneath his fingers. "Screw pastry school. I could come with you. Who else would keep you fed?"

Mingyu's complete and unfounded belief in you makes you feel something close to betrayal. How could he say any of that? With what proof? Only someone like Mingyu would be able to hold the wrinkled fruit of your unremarkable life between his palms and see something better than that. Maybe it's because he grew up on a farm. Either that, or he already cares for you too much, too painfully.

Secrets are easy to keep when they look like yours. At least here, in the pit of your stomach, you can keep count, take attendance of them, all your tittering, small anxieties. Some days it feels like your ribs are pressing out, but it's better than cutting everything loose to spill out over what little you do have control over.

You can handle a little pressure. You have to.

What concerns you is the hand Mingyu's got across your chest. With one look, he just might gut you. A twist of the heart-knife, and all those carefully wound insides carved out in an instant—maybe he'd pity you, but worse than that, he'd likely be disappointed.

For you, expectation has always stood taller than shame, and the idea that he sees something past you makes you want to run away.

"I could be a house husband," he says as easily as ever. "You'll be off saving the world, arguing with whoever, and I'll be there to run you a bath afterwards."

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves," you reply, binding up the strange, hollow feeling in your stomach with a laugh.

There's a scared little girl hiding inside you, and whether Mingyu sees her or not hurts the same. A spade is a spade. You can only pretend so long.

You look at the taiyaki floating in their wax paper bag, blinded and wrought open by the same grin that now peels you down, and you're not hungry anymore.

iv. winter pears (rotten, outside your parents' house)

Mingyu's family loves Christmas.

You think it's because of the pear trees they have in the front yard. They stand bravely before the house, all emerald ash and wisdom in the December freeze. Run your palms over the knobs and it's like you can see into a sleepy visage of simpler days past. (Below its heart, carved: 1982, the year the farm was bought. Along the tangle of the roots: gyu waz here, in an unsure, childish scrawl.)  

Winter comes to the countryside crawling on its hands and knees. On days it doesn't snow, there's a mist, boggy and clingy. You've come to realize the cold is more of a threat than a promise, and so the pear trees still bear fruit; the silvery branches hang heavy, faithful.

The first day of December, Mingyu's parents had tasked the two of you with decorating the farmhouse, a duty you took very seriously. You wrapped Mingyu up in string lights and watched him blink in and out like your own personal firefly.

It wasn't until you watched the rafters, the barn doors, the joyous vault of the ceiling all glow, like a spectacular firework, that you finally started to understand why Mingyu was so into the holidays.

It was in the yellow blush of the string lights that you had your first pear from the tree, which Mingyu insisted was a holiday tradition. We make poached pears, he said, mid-bite. You simmer the pear in syrup until it gets so soft, you can cut into it with a fork. Just like butter.

That same night, he kissed you, mouth hot and trembling and tasting of honey, and pressed you against the bark so hard, you could feel the grit of its veins against your skin.

You think December became your favorite month, and pears your favorite fruit.

So much so, that for the entire month, you try to put away your worries about law school applications to celebrate with Mingyu and his family.

You learn his mom makes the best hot chocolate (a cinnamon stick and a dogged devotion to the whisk), and that Mingyu has no clue on God's green earth how to ice skate. (He careens right into your chest the first time. You spend the next hour with him attached to you like a backpack—he manages to find the most impractical ways to do anything, which you somehow admire the most). On Sundays, Yizhuo ditches her Seoul friends and instead accompanies you to the mall two towns over, where she watches you compare different ties and watches and collagen creams as you decide on gifts for his family. (Lilac is so last year, she'd say, stirring the straw of a watered-down milk tea.)

It's not until the weekend before Christmas when you realize just how serious things have gotten. Your feet understand the meander of the dirt path to the farmhouse, your bones the scent of the yellow-skinned apple, the faded wildflowers. Your palms crave the plush of the rug they have in front of the fireplace. Hell, you can't even eat soondubu without thinking of the kind Mingyu's dad makes, with extra anchovies and green onion.

You don't think about what this means. There are ten days left in December and love poured from a full cup never seems to run out.

"Please let me carry some of those," Mingyu wheedles. "Oh my god. I'm like the worst boyfriend in the world."

"No, you are not." you make your way up to his doorstep, taking care to one-two step over the stray roots of one of the pear trees. It's second nature to you by now. "The moment I hand you a box, you are gonna start trying to figure out what it is."

He harumphs and plucks the big one off the top anyway, the one he knows you can't reach. "I didn't even know you were getting us gifts. You didn't have to."

"It's the least I could do. Who shows up to a holiday dinner emptyhanded?" You stop at the front door. "And stop shaking it," you laugh, using the tip of your boot to nudge his shin.

"Okay. Okay," he says, saccharine, adoring, before grabbing the doorknob. "Ready? Are you nervous? You shouldn't be nervous, right? It's not fancy or anything, if you were worried about that."

And that's the thing that wedges itself between your ribs. Mingyu and his whole family are like this. They love and worry and love again; it presses deep into you, fills you, and overflows.

So here you are, standing in your nicest dress and balancing a stack of gifts you hope will amount to something, never enough but something, to repay the people who you feel have loved you more than you deserve. It's all you really have. You do your best, and yet you know when that door opens, it'll all be washed away in a high-tide flurry of hugs and laughter and the familiar press of Bobpul's wet nose against your leg. They're just those kinds of people—they would be just as happy if you didn't bring anything at all, and somehow that makes you feel even more guilty.

"No, no," you wave him off. "I’m fine. Excited."

When Mingyu opens the door, everything goes just as you expected. His sister takes your coat, your gifts are whisked away to the tree (Aji has already figured out which one is his), and his parents descend upon you in a choking swell of warmth and charity.

We baked some fresh bread for your parents (—Thank you so much, but you really shouldn't have.). You look so beautiful in that color (—No, no, you flatter me too much.). Mingyu better be taking good care of you (—He is. He really, really is.).

The kitchen is gauzy with cinnamon, anise. They must be making their famous poached pears, which Mingyu remarks on, just like clockwork.

Dinner passes the same way. It bubbles over with affection, and you feel swallowed by an impossible yearning. This—a full table and a hand to hold underneath it—did you deserve this? And could you keep it?

For an instant, you picture yourself, years later, at this same seat. Mingyu would be fussing over the rice cakes, his apron still gingham because it reminds him of the day you two met. His parents, grayer but no less happy, bickering over the shade of tinsel on the tree. And the dogs, coiled at your feet like they are now. The vision laps at your bones like you're a raft in a storm.

You're pulled back into the moment when Mingyu squeezes your hand, grounding and insistent. "Mom asked how school was going. I told her I think you're basically the smartest person I know, and I’m pretty sure you're getting into whatever law school you want."

Mingyu's parents laugh, and they cut through their pears.

"Oh, sorry," you say. "Um."

Clink. Knife meets flesh, meets porcelain. Your cheeks are hot. You wanted to talk about anything other than yourself tonight. Clink.

"The top programs are a reach, but it'd be nice." clink. "I just want to get in somewhere."

"They’re all so far away," Mingyu's mom remarks. "So grown up. Any school will be lucky to have you. You'll get into all of them."

Clink.

"Or maybe you can stay here." You watch the prongs of Mingyu's father's fork disappear into the pear. "Keep us old folk company."

"No, no, I think Mingyu should take notes and get off his lazy ass," his sister says, teasing. "Going back to the city will be good for him."

"So you can, what, burn down the kitchen again?" Mingyu grumbles, and the whole table seems to boil over with laughter.

"We’re kidding," his mom tells you. "No matter where you go, I’m sure you'll do great. We can even throw you a party at the end of the year. For graduating."

Clink. Clink.

There's a horrible uneasiness writhing around in your stomach. It's pear and syrup and clove and a blackness, an anxious, selfish one that sucks up all the generosity of the evening and turns it into shame.

Mingyu's mom is talking about throwing you a graduation party, something you didn't even think to do for yourself, and here you are, thinking about the shaking moment you open your rejection letters and the lonely path you'll draw on your way back home.

It's ok. They missed out, Mingyu would say, pouring you a consolation drink, and then it would be over. You'd go home and sit on your bed and the trifold piece of paper would go round and round your head like it was in a washing machine.

Your heart, an inventory of tasks and goals and tally marks. Things you've taken and things you've owed. It's a soft, boneless excuse. Be grateful. Give them that, at least.

Clink.

Dessert ends before you can tell his family not to get their hopes up. Mingyu's mom sends you off with your loaf of bread and a kiss on the cheek, and the moment is gone.

"Gyu," you call out on the steps in front of the house.

There are words at the seam of your lips. You want to tell him you're sorry for worrying so much. For making the whole dinner about you and then very possibly having nothing to show for it when it matters. For the heaviness in your chest. Your cowardice. But none of it comes out.

Instead you watch Mingyu pull at the leaves of a pear tree, watching the frost-filigree they get at the end of the season. He looks over his shoulder and smiles at you, as if he's on the hazy cover of a magazine. His eyes bend so wonderfully at the corners when he looks at you, and it breaks your heart.

"You had fun, right?" he asks. "My parents like you a lot, you know. I think they really do."

But that's the problem, you want to say. You all do, and I have no idea why.

Some of the pears are beginning to rot now. You watch one drop off the vine, and it caves to the pavement like it was made of nothing at all.

v. wild barley (grows like weeds)

In March, you play house.

Your parents leave on a two week trip to see relatives, and Mingyu takes it upon himself to make sure you survive.

It's a kind, blinding charade.

(7 am, breakfast. You usually don't even eat breakfast, but you wake up to doenjang and a smile, one that presses itself to yours until you're wearing it on the long walk to school.)

(4 pm, the stretch between lunch and dinner. You're muddling through another useless club meeting when Mingyu sends you a picture of him in your mom's apron, making kimchi. Kiss the chef, he texts you. You promise to, over and over and over.)

It's good until it isn't.

That isn't to say that it's Mingyu's fault. In fact, it's never really Mingyu's fault, and that's the worst thing about your relationship. Sometimes you wish he was worse just so there was someone else to blame.

(1 am, a fridge-cold glass of water and a hand on the column of your spine. Can't sleep? He asks. Just had a weird dream, you say.

It's a lie. You're a liar.

You miss your parents and the first wave of acceptance letters comes out in two days. You're not like him. Sleep has never been a cure for the exhaustion you're feeling, and you have no way of telling him that however warm the bed is won't fix that.)

It's on a Thursday afternoon when you open your mailbox and see the tiny, thin envelope that you've been expecting for the past week. You don't need to open it to know what it says, and yet you do it anyway.

The sun is white, a ghost in the spring sky. The ocean bleeds into the overcast, the curly barley stands tall around your feet, and you let the worst letter you've gotten in your life fall upon your shoulders, word by terrible word.

Then you close it, pinching the seam shut, and draw up your brave face. Nothing left to do but be brave. You're convinced you've used up all the sadness in your relationship—spend in pennies and the well still runs dry. Mingyu will cup your cheek and call you darling, pouring into your emptying basin, holey and broken.

You see him now through the kitchen window, Venus in his clamshell of a kitchen. Galbijjim day, he had said this morning. Now, he waves at you, glittery with recognition.

Your throat feels like crumpled paper.

Mingyu smiles at you, hazy through the glass. Your cheeks hurt and your mouth is paper mache, but you smile back anyway.

///

The letters come one after another.

You know what the envelopes hold and yet you keep opening them. The little folder you keep stashed in your bottom drawer gets fatter every passing day because you can't help but revisit your misery, almost as if you need to remind yourself it exists.

Mingyu is none the wiser. Today he decides he'll put off pastry school for one more year. "It doesn't feel like the right time," he says, rolling a log of burdock kimbap up. "You know what I mean?"

No, you don't. You never really do.

You do know, however, that it would feel really fucking bad that, come the end of the year, to have nothing. All your friends would be going somewhere—even Yizhuo opened her acceptance to an MFA program in Shanghai yesterday—and you would be here, still, feet firmly planted in the muddy Jeju dirt like they always had been.

"Hey, don't look so disappointed." he jokes. "Don't tell me you're already trying to get rid of me."

You're not, you really aren't. But part of you wonders if it's just a race to the bottom. If you got rid of him before he decided he wanted to get rid of you, maybe it would hurt a lot less. One less letter for the folder.

"Never. But imagine if you picked up a French accent at pastry school. Then I’d consider it. Maybe."

You watch his knife rock back and forth on the cutting board as he cuts the kimbap.

"Some for you. And more for me," he says, in what you can only describe as someone attempting to speak French when they've never heard it before. "Unless you want more, mon cherie."

He brings the plates to the table, his grin nothing short of dizzying.

"I’m irresistible, huh? Still wanna leave me now?"

"You're gonna have to try a little harder than that, I think."

The words roll off your tongue, easily, traitorously.

You watch the kimbap disappear off of Mingyu's plate.

Going, going, gone.

///

Seogwipo is always dark at night, only kept alive by the glow of the moonlit sea.

You can't sleep. Again. And so you sit out on the steps in front of your house, letting the twilight wrap around you like a blanket.

You got your last letter back earlier today. You held your breath and tore it open like you would a birthday card with money in it.

Waitlisted.

It was surely better than a rejection, but some naive, child-eyed part of you thought that if you had just closed your eyes and hoped hard enough, things would work out the way you had planned. Tragically, it wasn't enough this time. You wanted and wanted and you thought maybe that would mean you'd come close to deserving it.

Your parents called today. After managing to sideline the issue of basically the rest of your entire life, they had finally cut through your sad little charade. No good news yet, huh?

No, but—

It was always like that with you. No, but it's not as bad as you think. No, but give me a chance. No, but I’m trying. I've been trying.

You wish things didn't come out of you so complicated. That you could be like Seohyun, who could go through school with her eyes closed and still graduate at the top of her class. Instead, you parade around your little failures, trying to convince people it all could mean something only if they squinted. See? It isn't so bad.

You think you're past the point of crying about it. Your stomach hurts, you're cold, and most of all, you just want to go back to bed. Plus, although Mingyu sleeps like a log, you think he's developed a sixth sense for whenever you get up too early.

Time to be brave, you've been telling yourself, although you don't know who you're pretending for anymore.

So you nudge the front door open—it's so old, it wails if you come at it with any more force—and, to your surprise, see the light above the kitchen sink turned on.

It's not very bright, but it's enough to make out Mingyu's broad silhouette, back turned to you as he makes a cup of tea. He's humming one of his made-up songs.

"Mingyu?"

"There you are," he says, turning around. "Just came out to check on you. And make you some tea."

The kettle whizzes. Your gut twists.

You still haven't said anything to Mingyu. To manage your own disappointment was one thing—you don't think you could handle another person's. And yet when he stands there, Pororo mug between his huge hands, you feel as if you are holding a knife, big and guilty and bloody.

"I-I'm fine, Gyu. Honest." you watch his expression flicker, unreadable in the persimmon lamplight. "Sorry you had to come out. It's chilly out here."

"You know, you can tell me what's going on. I won't judge."

No, no, no. This is the last conversation you wanted to have, with the last person you wanted to have it with.

You feel feverish. You think your hands are shaking.

"Mingyu, I swear—"

"Whatever it is, we can fix it. I know we can."

That almost makes you want to laugh if you didn't want to cry so bad. Of fucking course he would say that. Mingyu, who treats life like it's the watermelon trick he showed you on the outlook, wants to put a bandaid on this whole thing, as if that could come close to fixing it.

He'd tell you to curl up on the couch with a bad movie while he orders takeout. Kiss you on the top of the head. It's ok, baby. Just another bad day for the person who has the worst luck in the world. Another lump of problems for him to try and make better. If he isn't sick of you now, he sure would be soon enough.

"It’s okay," you say, steeling your voice. "It really isn't a big deal. Let's just go back to sleep."

You try to walk away, but the hardness in Mingyu's eyes roots you down to the tile.

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Pushing me away," he swallows. "Like you always do. I know something's going on."

"I’m not, i just—"

"You just what? You can't help it?"

"No, I—"

"Because you like to know that you can? That you can say whatever and then watch me come back?" A fragmented, heavy silence thrums between you. He's looking at you like he's daring you to say something, anything. His gaze is black. "What am I good for if you can't tell me anything?"

There's that familiar, stinging pressure behind your eyes. You think you're crying, but you're not sure. Maybe you've been crying this whole time.

"Fine," you bite. Your blood feels like hot metal. "You really wanna know? I didn't get into law school. There. Happy now?"

Mingyu looks stung.

"W-why didn't you tell me?"

Because I thought you would stop loving me. I thought you would have finally had enough.

"Because it's not all about you, Mingyu."

The words, selfish and damning, burn your tongue. Mingyu is right. This is what you always do. You fuck up and then make everyone else hurt for it.

"I'm sorry," Mingyu says. His voice doesn't sound like his. Instead, the words seem to hang in the air, trembling and holding their breath, waiting for an apology you can't give yet. "I shouldn't have—"

"It's ok." You swallow hard, and it hurts. "Let's just go back to bed."

It's getting colder and colder. You think there's a little hole in your sock, right above the cat's whiskers.

Mingyu doesn't reach for you as he passes to get to the hallway. Maybe he doesn't know how to anymore.

The Pororo cup is left abandoned on the counter. You walk over and read the label on the tea bag—barley, because you have class tomorrow morning.

You pick it up, let the ceramic buzz between your hands with whatever warmth it has left, and hold it to your lips.

It's cold now, but all you can think to do is drink it. Erase all the evidence that tonight ever happened, and maybe it'll be nothing more than a bad dream in the morning.

There's honey at the bottom of the cup. It sears the back of your throat, but you drink until there's nothing left.

vi. the peach blossoms (without fail, bloom every August. I miss you.)

You broke up the next day.

Even now, you remember what happened. You had woken up early that morning to make your own breakfast because you couldn't allow Mingyu to give you any more of himself. Your hands could only hold, shatter, so much.

"Mingyu, I think we should...." You looked at the zigzags of jam on your toast, angry and uneven. "I think we should stop seeing each other. For now," you had added, as if that made anything better at all.

Somehow that seemed more merciful at the time. Really, you think it just showed your cowardice. If you were going to break his heart, you might as well have gone all the way the first time.

Maybe it was a good thing that Mingyu saw right through you. He always did.

"So that's it, huh? You're just gonna give up on us?"

"No, i just...need some time."

"How long?" he asked. "Be honest with me. Because you know I’ll wait."

"I don't know." You couldn't meet his gaze. His eyes reached and reached over that kitchen table and you denied him even that.

"Don't you always know?" he asked, pitifully, desperately. "Don't you want this to work?"

And you did. In fact, you don't think you had ever wanted anything more, and it was that that scared you. You had already lost law school—you couldn't let the only other thing in your life let you go. So you pulled the trigger first.

"We should just end things. I'm sorry. I can't give you what you need."

He packed his bag within the hour, and you think everything, from then on, froze inside you. You didn't move from your seat until your parents came home from the airport later that day and asked why there were two plates of toast still on the table.

You think you knew, someplace, inevitably, this would happen. You, who only knew hunger, had reached deep inside Mingyu and rooted out a love you didn't think you were worthy of having. And yet you still ate from the vine, bite after guilty bite, until you couldn't take any more. The only time he asked you for anything at all, you couldn't give it to him—such was the irony of your relationship.

Maybe you were doomed the moment the first strawberry hit your tongue, just like you had said, all that time ago.

About a month later, you got another letter in the mail. Chungnam National University Law School, it read. This one was fat, in one of those brown envelopes lined with bubble wrap. Somehow, miraculously, that position on the waitlist had turned into an acceptance. You held the package to your chest and cried, loud and with abandon, as if taking a deep breath after almost drowning.

Ironically, the first person you wanted to tell was Mingyu. But the good news you needed to save your relationship came too little, too late. Perhaps that meant it had no legs to stand on in the first place, but that didn't stop you from missing it. Instead, you told Yizhuo, and she drove you to Jeju City and treated you to dinner. "You should just call him," she had said. "Hey, don't look at me like that. He'd probably pick up on the first ring."

The city is swathed in August's crimson summer—peach season. The narrow streets are lined with peach trees, the fruits glowing like fat drops of sunlight. All you do these days is plan for your eventual move to Daejeon and the start of a life that seems newer and shinier than your own. But surrounded by the cicada song, the velvet treeline, the rain-soaked asphalt, somehow you think you're going to miss Seogwipo more than you think.

(Fickle, fickle heart. You always needed things to be taken away to really be able to appreciate them. Somehow, all that wanting had boiled down to something more satisfying, more filling.)

You wonder how Mingyu is. Now that you think about it, he seems just as much a part of Seogwipo as the farm he lives on. It was only last summer when you had first met him in the field, set on fire by the strawberry harvest. You think about him now, peddling around that ridiculous wicker basket to make jam. Maybe talking to another pretty girl, someone as naive, cruel as you had been.

Not long ago, you considered calling him to apologize, but that'd just be another thing to be selfish about. A little time and some warm weather, and I’m calling to finally wash my hands of you. That's what it would sound like, no matter what you said. Still, it didn't stop you from thinking of him, every flower, every season.

"You know, I always wanted to grow peach trees. But I think we've always been a pear kind of family."

Mingyu. If a voice could cut through air, it'd be his.

You whip around, half-believing you're hearing things. Certainly that would be easier, but you're learning that there are some things you can't run from.

And like a picture, Mingyu stands tall, golden, framed by the peach blossoms. Not a thing about him has changed. Not even the way he looks at you.

"Mingyu," you breathe. Unfortunately, none of the times you replayed your last conversation with him help you come up with something to say, because in none of them did you anticipate him coming back. "W-what are you doing here?"

"I live here, silly."

"No way," you reply, scrambling. "Crazy, because I live here too."

You both laugh nervously, a silly, bubbly thing, but you feel like you're going to throw up. It's only now that you realize you're kind of on the walk to his place. Seogwipo has never had places to hide.

"I...um." you try and disentangle the guilt from the nostalgia from the scent of the peaches and the warmth on his face. They all look the same. You missed him. "I got into law school. In Daejeon."

"I heard," he says. "Not surprised at all. I always knew you would."

"Thank you. I mean it." The cicadas buzz around you, as if they know they have an important silence to fill. "You're staying in town, right?"

"Actually, I decided to apply to culinary school. It finally felt right, you know? I'm leaving at the end of the summer, but it's just in Jeju City. I couldn't leave the island."

"Thank goodness. I don't know if you could tell, but I kind of always hoped you would. I don't think I’ve ever eaten better food." Your voice wobbles, but it gets there. "You'll do amazing."

Then time stretches and forces you to recognize, reckon with, the moment you're in. You wonder if he feels the same way you do—bruised, overripe. If there's still a space in his heart for you.

Deep breath. Life only gives you so many chances.

"Mingyu, I’m sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't make us work. You deserved better." Saying it feels like peeling the skin of your heart back. There's still a palpable distance between the two of you—you think that had always been there—but it feels more comfortable in a way it never did before.

"Don’t apologize," he says, easily, as he always does. Everything seems to flow off him like water, and you think that's the part of him you loved the most because it was the one thing you couldn't touch. "We loved each other. I think that much was true."

A jasmine breeze curls through the trees, sending the blossoms fluttering around you like ink in water. The very first time you met Mingyu, you thoughtthe image of him, haloed with the sunset, was the one you wanted to keep forever. And yet, somehow, you don't think you'll ever forget the way he looks right now.

"Will you ever come back to Seogwipo?" you ask.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing—you were always the one who wanted to get out of here." He grins, ear to ear. "Of course I'm coming back. There's nowhere I'd rather be."

"Yeah. I think I know what you mean."

The sea, the clay dirt, Mingyu. Even yourself, clumsy and care-worn. You think, somewhere along the line, you forgot how to love. But you're learning—one step at a time.

"Friends," you say. "Let's be friends. If you'll let me."

"Thought you would never ask. Gladly. Always." The space between you seizes, like it's holding in a breath. Maybe one day, you'll think of closing it once more, but you like where you stand now. You can admire him better from a distance, without your fingerprints all over him. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, something he does before he gets ready to leave. But before he does—"I'll see you soon, okay? You better come back. Promise me."

For the first time, you see the honesty in his eyes and you really, truly believe him.

"Promise."

The Seogwipo sun is high and red in the sky when you wave Mingyu goodbye. It feels like you're coming to an end of a long summer, but you're not afraid. You watch the wind dance through the peach blossoms, their branches never searching, never wanting, and you finally feel as if you've arrived home.

[some-pers0n]

Playing action horror games again is so funny 'cause the first time around I'm petrified and can barely do anything but then the second time I'm rushing at the biggest monster at mach 7 with a tiny pistol and killing them in three seconds

[bottombaron]

ima be real, if this is trolling, getting us all worked up and depressed ... the absolute funniest thing wwdits can do then is have Nandor and Guillermo fuck nasty in the season 6 premiere

[lil-vibes]

hc that chuuya used dazai's lit cigarette to light up his own ONE (1) time and dazai had such a violent, homosexual internal reaction from the proximity that he stopped smoking right after that

[thejadecount]

Crazy idea: in the ROTTMNT universe, after hearing about these sightings and encounters with these mutant turtle ninja guys named after Renaissance artists Hollywood gets a crazy idea and produces two movies with deadly accuracy about them

These are the live-action TMNT movies

The ROTTMNT turtles proceed to watch and make fun of the live action movies

And then during the Big Crossover™️, they are absolutely flabbergasted to find out these guys are real

[trans-encore]

.

[lavellane]

like out of all the many, many traumas ive given elspeth my favorite has gotta be the deep roads lol. and specifically the way she never really got OUT of them. yeah so maybe her body did but not HER. shes still down there with ruck and helspith every time she closes her eyes. and during future expeditions when she goes down into the deep roads for real, it doesnt feel like some horrible nightmare it feels like REALITY and its the surface and love and warmth and alistair thats nothing more than a pleasant dream. one shes always going to wake up from. bc even in her happiest moments she's never not aware of the darkspawn digging up towards her just a few miles under her feet. and never not feeling the eyes of the deep roads looking at her, gleefully waiting for her, and knowing its not going anywhere

[firstfcllen]

Mayberry absolutely would be down for the hotel.

[dandunn]

[jelreth]

benefits of turning 18 include seeing fics with descriptions that make me whisper Jesus Fucking Christ to myself repeatedly with both of my hands over my face in horror and STILL clicking on them

[dewgongs]

del

[miraclemaya]

MADOKA - “I’m thinking I’ll order a beef udon bowl, since Sayaka-chan told me that they make those really good here. What about you, Homura-chan?”

CONSERVATION OF ENERGY - Food needs can be met with an expenditure of 1.23% of total magic. Proceed?

GRIEF SYNDROME [Trivial: Success] - MAGICAL GIRLS THAT IGNORE FOOD ARE OFTEN MORE PRONE TO GRIEF ACCUMULATION. MY ARMS WILL ALWAYS BE WAITING FOR YOU, HOMURA, BUT IT’S IMPORTANT TO BE HAPPY UNTIL THAT DAY. BESIDES, MADOKA WANTS TO EAT WITH YOU. DISAPPOINTING HER WILL FILL YOUR SOUL GEM WITH A HALF A GRIEF SEED WORTH OF DESPAIR.

TEA WITH MAMI-SAN [Legendary: Success] - Sayaka says the beef bowl is good? Maybe go for that. She knows Madoka’s tastes better than anyone — and if Madoka likes something, you will certainly like it too.

“I will have the same as you, Madoka.”

“I’m not feeling very hungry.”

[CALL AND RESPONSE - Medium 10] Come up with an order on your own

CALL AND RESPONSE - [Medium: Failure] - You’ve eaten here before, you’re pretty sure. Was it Loop 32… no, Loop 12..? No, wait, it was on the first Friday of Loop 68. No… that’s not right. You’ve never eaten here before. In a stunning display of incompetence, you have taken Madoka on a date to a restaurant that you have never experienced before.

THE ANGEL - It’s okay, Homura-chan! I don’t mind if you haven’t eaten here before. Remember what real me said, Sayaka thinks this place is good! And even if it’s not perfect, that’s okay, just spending time with you makes me happy.

THE CRAVEN MASSES - Sayaka has raised her blade against Madoka 16 times before. You should leave this restaurant and kill her. It would only take-

FALLING SAND [Trivial: Success] - 1528 seconds on average.

CONSERVATION OF ENERGY - It can be cut down to 1243 seconds with an expenditure of 2.7% of total magic pool.

THE CRAVEN MASSES - Exactly. Do it in front of her family and make it bloody. Kyoko would likely try and stop you, but even she isn’t immune to bullets. And if Mami comes for revenge, well, you know the exact words you could say that would destroy her, don’t you?

THE ANGEL - A-Ah, I think that’s a bit of an extreme reaction, Homura-chan!

HUMAN SHELL - Your heart rate is increasing. Stop that. You have absolute control over your flesh. Act like it.

MOE INSTINCT - AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH WHAT ARE WE GOING TO ORDER MADOKA IS GOING TO LAUGH AT US

WITCH’S NIGHT - Is… is this a trap? Walpurgis may be defeated, but you know that the stage witch never truly ceases its show. Perhaps this restaurant is a part of the stage?

MADOKA - “Um, are you okay, Homura-chan?”

MOE INSTINCT - OH GOD SHE HATES US

“I’m going to kill myself.”

“I’m so sorry. Would killing myself make you feel more comfortable?”

Isn’t there anything else you can say?

YOU - Isn’t there anything else you can say?

THE DEVIL - Come on, Homura. It’s high time you do it. Really, this is just another in the long, long chain of failures that make up your life. The only way to fix it is to kill yourself.

CLOCKWORK PRECISION - Target: Located on right ring finger. Target is not moving. Chance to hit: High. Plan: Retrieve pistol. Aim pistol at ring. Pull trigger.

THE ANGEL - Oh my god, please do not do that!

"I am going to kill myself."

"I'm so sorry, I'll kill myself if it makes you feel better."

"I'm so sorry. Should I kill myself?"

There. There has to be better options than this.

YOU - There. There has to be better options than this.

MOE INSTINCT - I CAN’T TAKE IT ANY MORE. THE ONLY RECOURSE IS IMMEDIATE SUICIDE. THAT’S THE ONLY WAY MADOKA WILL LOVE YOU AGAIN.

"I am going to kill myself."

"I'm so sorry, I'll kill myself if it makes you feel better."

"I'm so sorry. Should I kill myself?"

YOU - “I’m going to kill myself.”

MADOKA - Madoka’s face twists, her eyebrows raising slightly in shock. Whatever response she was expecting, it was clearly not this.

GRIEF SYNDROME [Challenging: Success] - IF MADOKA WAS A MAGICAL GIRL, HER SOUL GEM WOULD FILL BY A QUARTER HEARING YOU SPEAK THOSE WORDS. THAT WAS CRUEL, HOMURA.

MOE INSTINCT - WHY DID YOU SAY THAT?

MADOKA - “I’m so sorry, Homura-chan. Please don’t do that. I… I really care about you and so does everyone else.” Madoka’s eyes fill with tears as she speaks. She hugs you.

DAMAGED MORALE -4

CALL AND RESPONSE [Trivial: Success] - Quick, tell her you were making an edgy joke that didn’t land. You’ve gotten away with that before, you’re pretty sure.

SPACE-TIME MASSACRE - Twelve quarter shifts left and two up from your current space-time position, and there’s a Japan that it’s actually illegal to not commit suicide in.

FALLING SAND - You’ve been seated for 5 minutes and 32.5 seconds already and still have not ordered. Mami has requested your presence at her apartment in 3.4 hours from now.

TEA WITH MAMI-SAN - She wants to help you find a hobby. She’s really worried about you, you know.

STRINGS OF FATE - You can feel Madoka’s heart beat in sync with yours as she holds you. Everything will be alright, as long as you follow the beat.

THE ANGEL - Yeah! It’s okay Homura-chan. Just explain what’s been going on and Madoka will understand. And then order something, it’s important to eat a full meal!

YOU - “Ah, sorry Madoka. I was… overwhelmed with choice, and my… brain spit out the first thing it thought. I am not planning on killing myself.”

MADOKA - “Um, I think we should probably talk about this more, Homura-chan….”

CALL AND RESPONSE - Ask her a question to change the topic. It’s worked in three different loops, it should work here.

RATIONALITY COMPLEX [Trival: Success] - Ask her if she wants to try anything else and then order that for yourself. This will accomplish your goal of deciding on what to order, as well as showing Madoka that her desires are important to you.

YOU - “Is there anything else you’d like to try, Madoka? We can share our dishes.”

MADOKA - “Uh, okay Homura-chan. Maybe get some tempura?”

Order 10000 yen worth of tempura

Order 1000 yen worth of tempura

Order 100 yen worth of tempura

YOU - “Excuse me waiter, give me 10000 yen worth of tempura.”

HUMAN SHELL - Calories and magic are just two different types of fuel. Feed me and control me.

THE ANGEL - T-that’s probably too much, Homura-chan. Maybe you can sneak some into your cool shield, though!

MADOKA - Madoka doesn’t say anything, but her eyes do bulge out slightly. She gives you a gentle pat on the shoulder and smiles at you.

HEALED MORALE +1

RATIONALITY COMPLEX - Displays of wealth like this can broadcast value to potential mates. This will increase your value in Madoka’s eyes, furthering along one of your goals.

THE ANGEL - I think you should just focus on enjoying the food, Homura-chan. Take a break, everything is okay.

Thank you.

Why don’t you hate me?

YOU - Why don’t you hate me?

THE ANGEL - Because I care about you, Homura-chan! And besides, you hate yourself far too much already.

Thank you.

THE ANGEL - You’re welcome! Now, please, enjoy your meal with real Madoka. She loves you a lot too, you know.

[shiniestcrow]

I cannot believe that we just had to pull a fucking slug out of Evie's dewlap fur

What the absolute fuck

[mrsbarnesblog]

just us

masterlist

summary: a situation between pogues and kooks at the beach made Rafe rethink his priorities

word count: 1.8k.

warnings: season 4 spoilers, established relationship, mention of the dead turtle, that hoe Ruthie, protective Rafe

a/n: i'm obsessed with season 4, y'all. absolutely in love with everything that's going on and especially with Rafe being in a better place with a girl that he actually likes 🥹 this scene at the beach with turtles just made me sob, so I really need someone to drag that bitch by her hair. sorry not sorry.

Your heart was beating with adrenaline from the scene that just happened at the beach, with Topper’s girlfriend almost running over the pogues and being the usual insane bitch that she was. Rafe stood beside you, silent but shaking his buzzed head in disapproval.

Kie was standing on her knees on the sand, in shock, with juice still dripping down her face and hair. She brushed off the help of her friends, instead standing and picking something up from the ground, without hesitation, going towards the group of people around you. They seemed absolutely delighted by the whole situation, laughing, fist bumping each other, and making you want to punch every single one of them in the face. 

You didn’t even want to be here in the first place, not with a bunch of people with whom you shared mutual hatred towards each other. Rafe was your only connection with them, and it seemed like even for him it was a bit too much. A fun day at a beach with a little surfing competition, where even Topper and JJ seemed to have some fun together, took the wrong turn way too quickly.

“Look what you did! Is this okay?” Kie stopped in front of Ruthie, reaching out her hand to show something that you weren’t able to see, but by the look on her face it was obviously serious to her. “There was a turtle hatch, you idiots! You drove right over it!” Your stomach twisted at the realization, and you took a step closer to see it yourself. 

“Oh my God.” You whispered, catching a glimpse of a tiny dead turtle with a crushed shell laying in the palm of her hand. So little and harmless that the picture of it brought tears to your eyes. 

“Don’t look, baby.” Rafe’s deep voice mumbled near your ear, with a warm hand sprawled across your back to try to distract you, but you shook your head, unable to take your eyes off it. 

“All right, but it was only one.” Ruthie said with her usual attitude, nonchalantly pointing to the rest of the turtles that, luckily, were perfectly fine. Your mouth opened in disbelief, and you looked at Rafe to see him uncomfortably rubbing the back of his head. 

“I’m so sorry, Kie…” You whispered to her, stepping further away from the kooks, eyes drifting again to the dead animal in her hand. No matter how hard you tried to fit in with Rafe and his friends, you could never be one of them if it meant to be a bunch of pompous and cruel rich kids. You thought that, maybe it was time for you to finally admit that. 

“It’s not your fault, Y/N.” She briefly looked at you, because despite not being friends, there never were any arguments between you and the rest of the pogues, always keeping cool and friendly with each other. “There’s something wrong with you, people.” Kiara looked back at the kooks with disgust written all over her face. 

“I’m leaving, Rafe.” Barely holding back your tears, you looked back at your boyfriend, before picking up your beach bag from the sand and turning around. “I’m sorry again for them, Kie.”

“No, wait, Y/N.” He pushed through the crowd, wide-eyed, quickly approaching you and grasping your wrist. “This is not—“

“I don’t want to be here. I didn’t sign up to hang out with your friends when I started dating you, okay?” You groaned in frustration, attempting to move, but Rafe stopped you. “I don’t even know why we’re here, why you are here, when you clearly don’t enjoy it anymore.” 

“Listen, this is not so easy, okay?” He rolled his eyes, but you knew it was not fully directed at you; Rafe was already struggling with trusting those around him, and the fact that you slowly but steadily made him reconsider his current surroundings did not help. 

“You are not like them, they are not your friends, don’t you understand it?” The pure desperation was speaking in you, searching for the answers in his eyes. You overheard some people laughing at you, as they were too confident that Rafe would never listen to someone like you, someone from the cut, not even realizing the war that was currently going on in his head. 

He was silent, thinking, making his already overwhelmed mind go hundred miles per hour to figure something out, because you were right. The more time had passed, the more the two of you were together, the less Rafe found himself enjoying the presence of his old friends, the less he wanted to do that childish bullshit. 

“This dumb fucking bitch almost ran over people and killed an innocent animal because her big ego got hurt, do you understand?! So I’m leaving. Alone or with you.” You almost whispered the last part to him, too scared that he'd not choose you. At the end of the day, you were a pogue, and no matter how much you tried, you would never be good enough for Rafe. 

“What did you just call me?” Ruthie arched a brow, now shooting daggers at you. 

“I called you a dumb fucking bitch, didn’t you hear me?” You spat, finally having a good enough reason to tell the truth right in her face. “Or are you too stupid to get that through your thick scull?” 

“That’s rich, coming for a pogue. It’s just a cycle of life. And if you, losers, are so offended by that, it’s not my problem.” 

“A cycle of life? Getting flattened by a truck is not a cycle of life.” Kiara pushed Ruthie with her hand, and it nearly turned into a fight, with JJ standing by his girlfriend's side. You turned away from them, too frustrated and drained to bother listening to the rest of the conversation, your gaze shifting to Rafe, who still held your hand.

“I want to leave. Stay here if you want to, I don’t care. I’m done with them, Rafe.” Your teary eyes met his blue ones, and he shook his head, pulling you closer with your forearms. The mere thought of you leaving him, angry and upset, triggered a whirlwind of panic within him.

“Hey, no, I’m not staying, okay?” Rafe's hands, now much gentler and delicate, touched your cheeks, wiping away a few tears that you could not keep back. Rafe had never been too comfortable with the display of emotions, and he was pretty sure that it was the first time he had actually seen you cry. And he knew how much you had always carried for animals, how you petted every stray cat or a dog on the street, and how you hated any form of violence against them. 

The pulsating and aching feeling in his chest at the sight of your tears made him want to drop everything, or rather, eliminate everyone who had upset you, and just hold you in his arms. 

“Aw, look at you.” You heard that annoying voice behind you back again, pulling you out of the bubble in which you fell, and turning around, you saw that Kie and JJ were no longer there. Your eyes instantly rolled back as Ruthie looked at you with her usual fake sympathy, crossing her arms over her chest. “Go back to your side of the island, you’re not one of us. Don’t even know why Rafe bothers to bring you here when you’re just another dirty toy to—“

Rafe left your side before she could finish her sentence, looming over her with the most furious expression you had ever seen on his face. Everyone and everything seemed to fall silent for a moment, and you held your breath, unsure what he would do. “Wanna say some bullshit about her? Try to do it right in my face and see what happens.”

“You’re not seriously protecting the pogue. She’s not on our side.” Her smile faded, her eyes now nervously looking between Rafe and Topper, who was standing behind her back. 

“C’mon, Rafe…” He started, but quickly shut his mouth as soon as Rafe turned his head towards him with a silent threat. You felt your heartbeat quickening as the atmosphere started to get even more intense. Everyone around you also started arguing and saying God knows what, but Rafe was awfully calm, and it frightened you even more. 

You moved closer to them as you made your way through the warm sand, until you were able to place a comforting hand on your boyfriend's back. He was so tense under your touch that it amazed you how the hell he was not shaking because of it. The only times you had ever seen him behaving that way was when people whispered something about his father behind his back.

“It’s okay, Ray.” You whispered, kissing his shoulder and sliding your hand down his back to take a hold of his bicep. 

“You’re lucky that I don’t hit women. But if I hear a single word about my girlfriend again, you will regret it, I promise you." Your stomach flattered from the way he protected you, from the way his friends opened their mouths in shock at his words. Even Topper and Kelce were too stunned to speak, sending each other weird glances. “Control, your crazy bitch, Top.” 

As if nothing had happened, Rafe stepped back, throwing a protective hand over your shoulders and guiding you away from the group. He was silent for a whole walk towards his truck, only stopping near the passenger door and turning you to face him. 

His worried blue eyes were almost shining under the bright and hot sun and you saw words forming in his head and sitting at the tip of his tongue. You waited another minute, while Rafe was focused on your necklace, thinking. His hands found a place on your waist, rubbing circles into your skin, until he finally took a deep breath and looked up. 

“You’re right.” He said simply. “I’m not this person anymore. That shit with racing with pogues was fun and all, but I didn’t like what happened today.” You half smiled, nodding and encouraging him to talk. “If—if I want to be like my dad, I need to have my priorities straight. No more of this bullshit, no more fake ass people, yeah? You’re the only one who's been here for me for a long fucking time. You’re the only one who I can trust, baby.”

His hand cupped your cheek, eyes focused solemnly on you, before he lowered himself closer to you to place a kiss on your lips. 

“This is the right decision. You’ve overgrown them, you’re a better man now. And i’ll be here for you whenever you need me, I promise. I guess it’s just us now." Your body sagged against his, too wrapped in the comfort of his presence to even care about anything else. Your lips brushed against his, making Rafe groan.

“Just us, baby.”

[nanaslutt]

JJK men's reactions to you using your safeword

Incl: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji

cont: fem reader, established relationships, multiple positions, throatfucking, choking, asphyxiation, rough sex, squirting, dirty talk, aftercare, comfort, fluff

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Gojo:

Your knees were folded to your sides as Gojo stood behind you and bullied his massive cock into your cunt at an inhumane pace, the pleasurable pain making tears spill down your cheeks. "S-satoruuu-" You cried when he angled his cock to fuck right into your sweet spot, making you dizzy.

Your legs were starting to ache from the position he had you folded in, his hands under your knees keeping you snug there so you were unable to move, completely at his mercy as he manhandled you and fucked your cunt. "You look so pretty when you cry from my dick y'know that? Fuck I should take a picture." Gojo giggled, watching your face contort in the mirror in front of him.

You gasped when Gojo's cock suddenly slipped out of your pussy as he released you from his hold and made you stand on shaky legs in front of him--not for long though. The white-haired man then wrapped his arms around your torso, lifting your body off the ground a few inches as he slipped his cock back inside your cunt with ease as he started up that same brutal pace once more.

Gojo grit his teeth at how tight you felt in this position. "Oh fuckkk, baby look, I can see my cock through your stomach like this. I'm so fucking deep." He grinned, staring at the bulge through your tummy with a fucked out smile. You were caught too off guard to reply. He was right, he was deep, too deep. 

You were positive that Gojo was hitting your cervix in this position, he was so fucking deep. His wet balls were pressed flush against your ass, making it so every inch of his massive cock was stuffed inside of you. "F-fuck T-toru t-too deep-" You cried, your nails digging into his arms that held your body as you grasped him for dear life.

It wasn't uncommon for you to cry and whine during sex with Satoru, which is why he didn't take your please seriously, per usual. "Oh yeah? I'm too fucking deep?" Gojo moaned against the shell of your ear, making eye contact with your teary eyes in the mirror.

You sobbed when he thrust harder inside you, his fat tip absolutely crushing into your cervix, sending a painful jolt shocking through your stomach. "N-no really-" He gave you a few more hard thrusts as you cried on his cock, that same fucked out grin on his face. "R-red Satoru red!!" You yelled, squeezing your eyes shut in pain, your nails digging into his arm breaking skin from how hard you were grabbing him.

Immediately Gojo stopped moving inside you, his previously cocky smile fading from his face in an instant as he pulled out of you and set your feet down on the ground. "Shit, baby, what happened, talk to me?" Gojo asked, keeping his arms around your body as he lowered the both of you onto the plush carpet in front of the mirror.

Tears continued to flow down your face as you caught your breath, your hands coming down to press against your pelvis as you felt the dull ache inside you Gojo's cock had caused. "T-too deep, it really hurt." You said between gasps. "I'm so sorry princess I didn't know you were serious," Gojo said honestly, his arms wrapping tighter around your body as he held you against him, his watchful eyes staying on your face in the mirror.

"'S okay, it just really hurt." You sniffled, keeping one hand on your pelvis as the other wiped the tears from your face. "No, it's not, I'm sorry I really should be more careful," Gojo replied, pressing soft kisses against your shoulders and neck, his warm hands rubbing over your body to try and get you to come down. 

You stayed silent as you tried to catch your breath. "Good job for using your safeword princess, I'm so glad you said something. Never wanna hurt you like that." Gojo whispered after a while of the soft pampering kisses. You nodded in response, your breathing finally having evened out. "Thank you for stopping." You responded, one of your hands reaching behind you in the mirror to caress his cheek, making him look at you through the mirror.

He smiled softly at you before nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. "Oh, course baby. Does it still hurt real bad?" He asked curiously, noticing how your hand was still pressed against your tummy. "It's a little sore...' nd I'm kinda nauseous." You replied, wincing in pain.

Gojo leaned into your hand that was holding his cheek as a silent apology before he moved his arms to scoop under your legs, one against your back as he picked you up with ease, cradling you in his arms. "Let's get you in the bath then I'll get you some tea, how's that sound baby?" Gojo asked, tilting his head at you for your approval. When you nodded he leaned forward and kissed your eye, swollen from your tears. You closed both eyes, letting his soft lips kiss the ache in your now dry eyes before he pulled away and whisked the two of you to the bathroom.

Geto:

The dark-haired man's hand pressed against your head, effectively shoving you deeper into the mattress each time he fucked his hips against yours. You gasped and whined each time you felt his hips connect with your ass, the fat of your ass rippling from the roughness of his thrusts.

"Take that fucking cock- take it-" Geto groaned, his one foot perched on the bed giving him the perfect leverage to fuck into you hard and fast. He had come home from a mission particularly worked up, saying something about how it went on longer than he thought and there were more casualties than he would've liked. So when you so graciously offered your body for Geto to take out his anger on, he would've been a madman to decline. 

You didn't know he was going to be this rough though. It almost felt like Geto was distant somehow, his mind still in work mode. He threw his head back and let his eyes fall shut as he mindlessly thrust inside your pussy, the wet squelches echoing in his ears only fueling him to fuck you harder, faster, so he could hear more.

You cried his name against the sheets, your words coming out muffled from how hard he was shoving your face against the mattress. "Be good, be a good girl baby." Geto groaned, his head tipping down as his eyes found yours, which tried to look at him through your peripherals. 

You were feeling an ache start to form in your back from how deep of an arch he had you in, and his head squishing your face against the sheets was making it hard to breathe. His hard thrusts knocking the wind out of your lungs didn't help. You didn't want to tell him to slow down though, you knew how worked up he was, and you could take a little discomfort, it was fine. 

"Fuckkkk- you're sucking me in." Geto groaned. He pulled his hand away from your hip to land a couple of harsh smacks against the fat of your ass, one after the other, before he gripped the fat in his hand, his nails digging into your skin. That's when your mental state caved in. 

You could take a little pain, you could take a little discomfort, but you couldn't take it anymore. You wanted to bite your tongue for Geto you really did, but the pain soon overcame the pleasure, the ache in your bones became too much and you still couldn't shake the feeling that Geto wasn't mentally here fully. All the factors combined made you lose it as you lost your arch and tried to escape Geto's grasp, crying out, "S-stop, red- red, s-top."

Geto was certainly fully there now, snapping out of whatever daze he was in as his cock slipped out of you as your body curled up on the bed, your arms wrapping around yourself in comfort as fat tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Woah woah, baby, cmere, shit come here," Geto whispered, pulling up his boxers quickly before he laid next to you and pulled your body atop his, his hands rubbing over your back as you stayed tense, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you buried your head in the crook of his neck, sobbing. "I'm sorry, i-i'm sorry." you cried, the guilt of not being able to please Geto the way you thought you should've washed over you.

"Hey, no, why are you sorry? You did nothing wrong. What happened baby?" Geto asked carefully, trying to look down at you as you held onto his body for dear life, trembling in his arms. "I-it was too much." you sniffled, trying to catch your breath. "I'm sorry, was I too rough?" Geto asked, clarifying your words.

"Y-yeah, I felt like you were out of it... I don't know it sounds so s-stupid now that I'm saying it out loud," you whispered into his neck, your words coming out choked and choppy. Geto stayed silent, save for his whispered hushes as he tried to get you to calm down. "I shouldnt have said anything i-i'm sorry. I couldn't even k-keep my word." You added, referring to how you said Geto could take his anger out on you. 

"No baby, you're allowed to tap out any time you're not comfortable. I don't want you to force yourself, that's why we have the safeword, right?" Geto asked, raising his eyebrows as he looked down at you, your head still buried in his neck. You nodded against his neck, he was relieved your sobs had turned into soft sniffles, he hated to see you upset. 

"You're right though, today really took a lot out of me. I thought taking you up on your offer would make me feel better because sex with you always does, but I'm just not feeling right tonight, I should've told you instead of trying to take it out on you like this, I'm so sorry." Geto explained, his warm hands rubbing soothingly along the soft skin of your back, making you relax into him.

"I-it's okay Sugu," you replied, nuzzling your head into his neck deeper. "Is it okay if I just hold you like this?" He asked, softness lacing his tone. You smiled softly, shutting your eyes as you nodded, "Please." You replied quietly. Geto's arms squeezed tighter around you, he wished he could somehow be even closer to you than you were right now, he had this thought a lot.

"I love you, baby, I'll be more careful with you, promise." He said, tilting his chin atop your head as he shut his eyes, heaving a deep sigh as he absorbed the warmth from your skin. "It's alright Sugu, really. I love you, I'll make you feel okay again only by snuggling. Just don't let me go." You whispered. Geto felt his heart swell at your words, how could someone be so cute?

Nanami:

You lost track of how many times Nanami had already made you cum on his tongue. His fingers inside of you had been drilling into your sweet spot for so long you were almost going numb. Your insides hurt from the constant pestering but you couldn't deny that it did feel good, sex with Kento always did.

After almost four hours of continuous orgasms and berating from Nanami's tongue and fingers, you thought he would be done--and he might've if you hadn't just squirted, the release sending blood rushing to Nanami's cock as he was suddenly reenergized from watching your face contort as you squirted all over his face.

"K-kentooo-" You cried, your nails digging painfully into his scalp as he ate you out like a man starved, your pelvis bulging from the inside out as he finger fucked you like his life depended on it, expertly angling his fingers to press right against your g-spot. "You can take it, sweetheart, need to see you squirt again," Nanami mumbled against your clit, too fucked out and absorbed in eating your pussy to pull away from you fully.

Nanami had always been the type of man who ate pussy for his own pleasure, but he never took it as far as he did tonight. Something about you interacting so well with his students had ignited a fire inside him as his brain created fantasies of the two of you starting a family together, his mind using the visuals of you patting his student's fluffy pink hair as you cooing at your own child, one that you had created together.

"I- I can't I can't- P-please-" You choked on your own moans, your face contorting in painful pleasure as your head shook back and forth against the tear-stained pillow. Nanami had a deep blush spread across his face as he looked up at you, the only time Nanami's eyes had left your face this night was to roll back in his own head when the pleasure of eating you out became too much for him.

He looked so handsome, his chiseled face buried between your thighs, wetness messily smeared all over the bottom half of his face and the inside of your thighs, he truly was fucked out. "Just one more time then I'll give you my cock, gonna fuck you so full." Nanami cooed, saying his words like they were supposed to be comforting. 

You felt your heart drop in your stomach at the promise of Nanami fucking you after this. In any other scenario, you would've been overjoyed to finally have Nanami inside you, as he always took extra time to stretch you out for him. But right now, you wanted nothing more than a break... or maybe a 14-hour nap. 

You shook your head as you felt your orgasm come on, the sensation feeling sore in your tummy as it crept up on you. You were sure if you let this go on you were going to pass out, it was too much. You bit your lip and squeezed your eyes shut, thinking your actions over in your head quickly, to prevent this from going any further, before you decided to speak, "Red Ken- r-red-."

Despite how gone and fucked out Nanami was, he snapped back to reality in an instant, the clouds in his head clearing as he pulled his mouth away from your cunt, stilling his fingers inside you. "Red? You wanna end it right now?" Nanami asked softly, watching your face with great attention and concern as he breathed hard, trying to catch his breath.

You nodded, your legs fighting to press together to escape any more pleasure. "Alright, alright." You could tell Nanami was still a little out of it, but he complied with great haste. Slowly slipping out his fingers he sat up and allowed you to snap your legs shut, your sore cunt throbbing from how long Nanami had been eating you out. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I'm sorry, are you alright? I got a little carried away." Nanami said, blinking away the fogginess from his eyes as he crawled up to sit back against the headboard, pulling your body to sit on top of his.

Your hair was a mess, your face was wet with your tears and your eyes were all out of focus. You laid your head against Nanami's shoulder with a sigh and allowed your body to slump against his, relishing in the break you were granted. "I was going to pass out if I didn't stop you." You whispered, still out of breath as you heaved into his neck, your hot breath tickling his skin.

Nanami smiled in embarrassment as he held your body tightly against his, one of his large hands cradling the back of your neck, the other scratching up and down your back. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize it was that hard on you my love. Does anything hurt?" Nanami asked. He leaned back and cupped your face in his hands, his disheveled look making you smile weakly at him, how did he manage to look so handsome all the time?

"It's a little... sore down there." You whispered, looking away as you felt your face heat up from his intense gaze. Nanami shut his eyes briefly, slapping himself internally for getting so carried away. "It's my fault." He said, biting his lip. "You interact so well with the kids I couldn't stop thinking about how you would be with one of our own." He said honestly, the already intense blush on his face spreading to the tips of his ears as he laid his heart out for you.

Your eyes shot back over to his in an instant, your eyebrows raising in surprise. "Y-you mean-" You started, your sleepiness getting put on the back burner as you put 120% of your focus onto the man in front of you. "I... fantasize about starting a family with you a lot. I guess it got the best of me today. I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to hurt you." Nanami said, averting his gaze as he spoke. You don't think you've ever seen him so bashful before.

"Kento you're so cute, so so cute." You said, a smile spreading across your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning forward as you peppered kisses all over his face. Nanami groaned as you smothered him with attention, simultaneously bringing him down with you and washing away the guilt he was feeling. "I know you didn't mean to hurt me, I should've said yellow though, maybe that would've eased you up a bit." You smiled, pulling away to look into his eyes.

Nanami's face scrunched in embarrassment at how carried away he got before he looked back to you. "I'll make it up to you. I promise." He whispered, leaning his head against the crook of your neck as he wrapped his arms tightly around your body, making your chest come flush with his. "I'll clean you up in just a moment, just let me hold you right now." He mumbled against your skin, his deep voice sending vibrations throughout your body.

"Take all the time you need Kento, I'm not going anywhere." You replied. You wanted to address what he had said about how he thinks about starting a family with you frequently, but you decided to not open that can of worms right now, in fear it would rile him up again if you revealed that you too, dream of starting a family with him. 

Toji:

"Mph-nghh-" Vulgar, embarrassing noises spilled from your mouth, being forced out from your throat as you gagged and choked around Toji's fat cock. "Take that shit pretty girl- fuuuuuck-" He groaned as he gripped the entirety of your throat with his large hand, squeezing as he felt his cock bulge out in your neck.

You had your head hung off the side of the bed as Toji stood in front of you and fucked his massive cock down your throat, his heavy balls slapping against your upper face, making your eyes squeeze shut as he facefucked you. "Such a sloppy fucking mouth, goddd-" Toji grit through his teeth as spit bubbles and saliva pool out the side of your mouth, smearing onto your chin and his thighs.

All you could do was moan and cough around him as he forced his massive cock down your throat at a ruthless pace. This had been your idea, and Toji had practically jumped at the opportunity to try this with you. You told him you wanted to get better at taking his cock down your throat, so what better way to do that than to give yourself no other option? In this position the only thing you could do was try to breathe the best you could around him as he fucked into you like a fleshlight.

"Good fucking girl, taking me so well." Toji groaned, shaking his head as he looked down at your sloppy face and your eyes that were all out of focus, rolling back in your head. "So pretty." He said under his breath, biting his lip. Toji thrust his hips flush against your face, his balls pressing against your nose, blocking off any last air source you had as he stilled his cock inside you.

He gripped your throat harder, trying to feel his cock pulse through your neck as he cockwarmed himself in your throat. His eyes fluttered in his head as he let your throat squeeze around him, his balls twitching with how intense it felt. Your eyes shot open in alarm when you tried to breathe, but could not.

You were instantly kicked into fight-or-flight mode as you slowly ran out of air. To be honest, you would've been alright for another thirty seconds or so, but it felt so much scarier in that moment, you thought if you didn't get a breath in that second, you would die. You moaned in alarm around Toji's cock, the man just groaning and praising you in response when the vibrations went straight to his balls. 

You thought fast, remembering your safe signal as you reached your arms up and tapped his thigh repeatedly. The consensus had been two taps, but you were panicking, so you gave him a couple more than two. It only took Toji a couple of seconds to realize you were using your safe sign before he was groaning an "oh shit" and pulling his cock out from between your lips, his hand abandoning the hold it had on your throat.

Strings of spit connected from your lips and chin to his cock as you coughed and sputtered for air when he pulled himself out. You spun your body around and sat right up on the bed as you fought to catch your breath, your hand coming up to grab your own throat when you felt how sore it felt. "Fuck baby, you alright?" Toji asked, reaching his hands out to push your hair away from your face, his hands grabbing your shoulders and rubbing up and down along them.

You couldn't respond yet as you continued coughing out the flem from your throat, trying to get a full breath of air before you spoke. "Couldn't breathe, huh? Were you scared?" Toji asked, his hands cradling your face as your coughing calmed down, your hand coming up to wipe your spit-slicked mouth with the back of your hand as you nodded at him.

"Shit, I'm sorry sweet thing. Didn't mean to scare you." He smiled at you, the scar on his face stretching as his lips curled up. Your eyes met his darker ones as his thumb slid under your eye to wipe away your tears, his gaze watching you carefully. "You wanna be done for tonight?" He asked, making sure you were tapped out completely. When you nodded he nodded back and reached one of his hands down to pull his boxers over his hard cock before he sat next to you on the bed, pulling your body close to his.

"Maybe that was too much too soon, huh?" He asked, his large hand rubbing the side of your head. You nodded, staying silent as he calmed you down, your heart still fighting to slow down in your chest, trying to recover from such a scare. "That's alright, we can take it slow next time. It was my fault, got too excited." Toji whispered as you shut your eyes and let yourself melt against his warm palm.

"You did so good though, y'know that?" He added, making you bury your head deeper into the crook of his neck, resulting in his smile growing. "Made me feel so good princess." He praised, rubbing your head soothingly. "Thank y-ou." You whispered hoarsely, your voice making Toji cringe when he realized the damage he had done to your vocal cords. "Let's get you all cleaned up and I'll make you somethin' for 'ur throat. You sound horrible." He laughed, ruffling your hair as he spoke. 

[groovyangelkisses]

Lumberjack ! Logan secretly love being pampered and spoiled by his girlfriend but is too shy to admit it

oh absolutely, honey! 💌

he'll daydream alllll day at the yard about comin' home to you & you running your nails through his hair, scratching and tugging while kissing his cheeks. and he'll blush, too! swinging his axe with the gratifying chop and thinking about his girl waiting for him at home ᯓᡣ𐭩

on days where you needed the pick-up, mainly to run to the farmer's market down the way for dinner, you'll pick him up from the yard. and ohhhh boy the looks logan gets when the other workers see a pretty little thing like you pulling up for him. and logan absolutely eats it up— loves knowing his pretty girl, so loving and doting, bordering obsessed with him, is the object of every mans dreams. if anyone dares to tease him for the sudden pep in his step as he almost jogs to you in the car, the glare they recieve will be deadly before logan shifts his eyeline back to you with a soft smile— only reserved for you <3

everyday when he comes home from work, there's a warm lavendar bath ready, and his favorite soft sweats warm from the dryer. the first time you drew him the bath, he fiddled with the soft pebbles of lavendar asking himself "what the fuck is this?" when you left the room for a moment to grab him a fluffy towel.

he was skeptical of being loved— never too quick to let his guard down. but when he finally sat in the tub? long, tanned limbs relaxing in the warm water that smelled sooo nice & relaxing? his shoulders dropping with content and his eyes fluttering shut? you washing his hair and telling him about your day? "oh god" he prays to himself "never take me away from her, not even for a second, i won't be able to bear it"

and for a more silly approach, you do a sweet little cucumber face mask on logan during the winter months; shelled up in your cozy home as the snow rages on. his eyes peacefully closed as you sit on his tummy, massaging his face gently as he runs his hands up & down your hips and thighs. a sudden knock at the window reveals one of logan's friendly coworkers, coming to drop off the coat logan left at the sight earlier that day.

and this coworker pauses his sentence in mild shock to stare at this 6'2, mean-eyed hairy lumberjack with green fluff on his face and freshly moisturized lips. and all logan can say is "you tell anyone and i'll fuckin' kill you, i swear to god i will" to which you'll turn, all hurt, "you don't like the mask, baby?" and logan'll backtrack so genuinely "no, no baby, i do. 's nice and cooling, like you said. just don't want this shithead thinkin' i'll do anything wild like this for anyone but my girl"

and when his buddy leaves, head falling back in laughter, logan doesn't even find himself caring so much. especially not when you lay him back down, face now clean of the mask, and slooooowly start massaging his biceps.

"love my girl. love my sweet girl. take such good care'a me, pup, 'm so grateful" he'll coo as he starts to fall asleep after a long day's work— completely content, completely in love, only mildly ashamed of how much he needs you :(((