#and no matter how though he acts or is that shit takes a toll on you

[hauntingblue]

Throughout jojos there is this narrative with jotaro about how being emotionally closed off and traumatized makes him emotionally unavailable and unable to care for his daughter and he much he regrets it before he inevitably can't do anything about it before they both die and it's so tragic and compelling but it is mostly coincidental and hangs on by a thread...

[heechwe]

not a bad thing | 𝖍𝖛𝖈

୨୧ pairing: hansol (vernon) chwe x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 6.6k ୨୧ genre: fluff, smut ୨୧ tags: friends to lovers, light drug use, fingering, oral (f receiving), mutual masturbation, penetration, cockwarming. ୨୧ synopsis: Just because you've been friends for so long doesn't mean Vernon isn't keeping some secrets from you, and you're determined to confront him about it.

“Simple but still cute, or spontaneous and fun?” 

Vernon, sprawled out on his back on your bed, looks up from his phone screen in absolute confusion. He’s wearing a rainbow beanie with his plaid button-up and denim jeans, contrasting your leggings and baggy t-shirt. He always acts unaffected by how good he cleans up when he wants to, but you shake the thought out of your head and wait for his answer. “Come again?” he asks.

You’ve been holding out the red and black cropped, long-sleeve shirts for two minutes for your best friend to see. Maybe he would immediately pick one or take his time deliberating, especially with the cutout in the shirts’ centers meant to reveal hints of cleavage. However, the realization that his attention was stolen long ago by some meme in your friend group’s group chat has you huffing and flinging the shirts at the edge of your bed. 

It isn't the first time you've gotten nervous before a date, and it definitely isn't your first runaround with Vernon being out of touch with both his current and past conversations. Still, you value his advice more than anyone’s. Only you need it in an hour before your date arrives, and he’s being less than helpful. “Pick which one you like, idiot,” you whine.

“They’re literally the same shirt. The only difference is the color,” Vernon retorts. He rolls his eyes and resumes his endless scrolling.

“Exactly! I need to know which color you think I should wear. That way I give off the right impression.”

“And what impression exactly are you trying to give?”

“I don't know! Ready to have a good time but not looking to go too fast. Fuck, if only they had a shirt for that.” You rub your temple, contemplating if going on this date was the right decision.

The day Mingyu offered to set you up with his friend, you had half a mind to shut him down. His insistence on this blind date was too much to say no to, though, and going without any romantic or sexual interests for months seemed to take its toll on your resistance. While Vernon wasn't outwardly against the idea, he decidedly brushed it off with a disinterested hum and didn't mention it once until today.

Once he sees the defeat on your face, he caves, leaving his resting spot to grab you by the shoulders. It’s unsaid, but he practically asks outwardly for you to look him in the eye, so you do. “Listen. This guy is gonna like you no matter what color your shirt is. And you wanna know why?” You shrug, deflated. “Because anyone who can't see how hilarious and gorgeous you are is blind, and we don't hang out with blind people.” Vernon crinkles his eyebrows together and sighs. “You know what I mean. Like, metaphorically blind and shit.” 

You laugh. “Thanks, Han.”

You turn away from him to stare at the two shirts still spread out on the bed. “But back to this. Which color do you like more?”

After waiting a few seconds for his answer, you look over your shoulder. He’s miles away, lost in his thoughts again. The look in his eyes and etches of his face are traced with puzzlement, and when you call his name to get his attention and snap him out of it, it’s still there. No matter how hard he tries to hide it with a tight-lipped smile. “Black. Simple but still cute,” he says, his voice soft as he uses your words from earlier, proving he was still listening. 

Satisfied, you grab the top and turn, ready to make a beeline for the bathroom to get dressed. You stop short when you almost bump into Vernon on your way. It's only then you realize how close the two of you are. Less than a foot apart, to be exact. “I gotta get dressed, weirdo.” You try to sound humorous, but the breath accompanying your words sounds bated and unexpectedly airy.

In that second, all while you trace the outline of Vernon’s lips with your eyes, you wonder if maybe it would be so bad to skip the date altogether and do something else. Anything else. As long as you didn’t have to leave the house or Vernon.

“Right,” he whispers, but has no intention to walk closer to the bedroom door. Slowly, his eyes go a fraction wider than they normally do.

Like a silent cue, he steps away and fumbles over his words. “Okay well, good luck and—Sorry, I just—I’ll see you at Seuncheol’s after. You can tell us how it went. That is if you want to!” He stutters, right as he hits the back of his head against the door.

“Hansol! Are you okay—“

“Yeah! I’m fine!” He takes his beanie off to rub the sore spot. “Don’t worry about me. You don’t wanna be late. I’ll see you later!” He races out of the apartment, mumbling and clutching his head. 

While you curl your hair and put on your favorite pair of jeans for your date, your mind goes back to the look in Vernon’s eyes and the thoughts that raced in your head before he took off. And you speculate about what those two things mean, and if they mean anything at all.

“He didn’t even kiss you? What a dumbass.” Vernon mumbles, grabbing his mocha latte. He takes a vigorous sip, humming at the warmth it brings.

“I know. Now pass me a Splenda packet, please?” You pout. Well-adjusted adults would normally be at home and in bed at ten in the evening. But for you and Vernon, you decide on hanging out in your favorite late-night coffee shop for pastries and cold brew. It was better than sitting around at Seungcheol’s, the usual festivities of weed and alcohol not hitting the same way. You both settled on an alternative to fill your time instead.

“How did it go exactly,” Vernon asks, his voice garbled from the cheese danish he stuffed into his mouth.

“Well, I made it to the restaurant and he was there already, which was nice. But as soon as we started talking about ourselves, he was so flat.”

“What do you mean?” His eyebrow furrow, clearly confused.

“He was just very one-dimensional.”

“How so?”

“I mean, he was either talking about accounting, his accountant friends, or his work projects. Maybe it was better that he didn't kiss me. It might have been as boring as his capacity for communication.” You both share a laugh.

“So, I guess this means you don’t want a boring guy who presses his suits and plays golf on the weekends,” Vernon teases with a grin. You shove him playfully in the arm.

“That’s not the point! I mean, yeah, I don’t mind if a guy is serious, but I want someone who makes me laugh too. Who I don’t have to worry about liking my jokes but also sets a table or buys me flowers once and awhile.” You sigh.

While on your diatribe, Vernon grabbed your vanilla bean frappuccino. In a second, he has your straw in his mouth for a long sip. He smiles when he passes your drink back to you, unapologetic. “Someone who steals your drink for himself?”

You throw a napkin at him in retaliation. “I hate you!”

“Everything okay here, miss?” The barista asks, his name-tag shining against the dim lamps surrounding the cafe.

“We’re all good—Joshua—thank you.” You give him your best smile, to which he flashes his own at you. His teeth sparkle as much as his name-tag does, you think to yourself.

“Just Josh, please. The only one who uses my full name is my mother.”

You two exchange a chuckle, and you notice Vernon is not laughing or smiling at all. His eyes are mere slits, you can barely see the brown in his irises. His mouth follows in the same fashion, but downturned at the corners if anyone was paying close attention.

Joshua hands you a packet of chocolate-covered almonds, and he blushes. “They go really great with the frappes.”

“Oh thank you, but I didn’t—”

“It’s on the house. As long as you keep coming back.” Joshua turns to walk back to the coffee bar, suddenly tense as he leaves you and Vernon at your table.

Looking back to your best friend, you can see why. The original expression on his face has changed to pure anger. Vernon looks like he wants to blip the poor barista out of existence, and his long, hard stare in the guy’s direction might just make his wish come true.

“What’s wrong with you dude?” you ask Vernon directly.

When he turns to look at you, the stone in his expression softens a touch. “That guy seems like a creep.”

“He was just being nice!”

“He gave you a pack of nuts. Who does that?” He scoffs outwardly, and you can’t help but laugh. “What? You know I’m right.”

“Next time a cute guy gives me a snack, I’ll make sure you vet him first.” You wink at Vernon, but he remains hard-pressed. “Come on, don’t be jealous!”

“Of coffee boy? Please.” Vernon shrugs off your comment and crosses his arms. Something unreadable passes over his face for a brief moment. You would ask him about it, but you know the man is anything but overly emotional or easily vulnerable.

You try anyway. “Han, what’s wrong?”

He shakes his head and gets up to throw away his coffee, half unfinished. “Nothing, I’m fine,” he lies, looking away from you with a cold lilt to his tone. “Let’s get out of here.”

The sound of Vernon’s voicemail causes you to grunt in frustration, the beginning of the message you practically know by heart now. After the stint in the coffee-shop, Vernon walked you home without a word and hasn’t interacted with you since then. After being left on read for the past three days, you are all kinds of antsy. Normally, he would text or call instantly with a reason, but it’s been nothing but silence on his end. Your black phone screen makes you rub your temples. What did you do wrong?

“At this point we should send a carrier pigeon,” Lisa says with a shake of her head. 

“She’s got it bad, babe,” Hoshi comments with a wink in your direction. He kisses Lisa on the cheek on his way to their kitchen. 

When things went wrong, it was second nature to confide in Lisa and Hoshi. Two childhood friends turned dance prodigies and then inseparable lovers? They sounded like the plot of a bestselling romance novel. And admittedly, you wish you could find what they had. Why did you have to encounter so many red flags and road blocks?

“I mean, we all know you’ve been down for him for…three years now?”

“Shut up, Soon!” You exclaim, blushing. “I just don’t know why he’s gone AWOL on me.”

“Maybe he’s in a mood. You know him,” Lisa responds.

“Not like this. This is the longest we’ve ever gone without even sending an emoji to each other,” you say with a frown. You scroll through your conversation, the endless blue bubbles making your stomach sink further.

“He’s gonna be at Wooz’s tomorrow night for that party,” Hoshi says with the slam of the fridge door. You nod your head, already aware. Hoshi smirks. “Corner him there.”

Vernon was closer friends than you were with Woozi, someone you knew in passing because of his relationship with your best friend. But you had been to the guy’s apartment many times before. It wouldn’t be weird to attend, sans Vernon. Right?

“Fuck it,” you think out loud. “Lisa, can I borrow an outfit?”

The party is in full swing by the time you arrive. Chan answers the door with a grin, patting you on the shoulder when you step through the threshold. Woozi and Seungcheol are karaoke battling in Woozi’s living room while the rest of the partygoers are either drinking beer or in circles puffing and passing.

You decline when Minghao tries to hand you his half of a joint, a dopey grin plastered on his face. You want to be sober when you confront your best friend for leaving you in the dark for half of the week, even if you know it’ll take the edge off of your nerves.

When you find Vernon, he’s grabbing a hard lemonade from the spare cooler on top of Woozi’s counter. His eyes, the usual white around his irises pink from the party favors, go wide when he sees you. “Fuck me,” he says out loud.

“Yeah, fuck you is right,” you bite back. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

His mouth is agape, giving no attempt to provide an answer. no answer. You get angrier the longer the seconds go by without one.

“Okay, how about an easier question: Why couldn’t you respond with a thumbs up or something when I asked if you were still alive?”

He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, another curse leaving his lips.

“Fine. Keep being weird about whatever the fuck is wrong. I wanted to try and make sure my best friend was okay, but he can’t even give me a solid explanation as to why he’s being a dickhead.”

Vernon takes your hand and walks quickly with you in tow. The people you pass move out of his way before they get body-slammed, some of them confused while others are too drunk or high to care. 

When you make it to a bathroom off of the hallway, Vernon closes the door behind you and locks it. He takes a second before turning to you with a solemn expression. 

“We can’t be friends anymore.” The words that leave his mouth break your heart to pieces and steal any semblance of air from your lungs. You didn’t expect to come into tonight and lose a friend, especially when you were unsure of what you did to cause Vernon to feel that way.

Your eyes begin to water with tears, but you don’t let them run over. “What the fuck do you mean?”

“I’m saying I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” Your voice grows thin. You’re confused how every word from his mouth sounds more sure than the one before while you’re falling apart.

But, even though he keeps up a composed posture, you can tell something inside of him is cracking. His bottom lip is caught in his teeth and his hands are fidgeting, two signs something is bugging him beyond his will.

“Please just tell me what I did wrong and I can fix it. I can’t help make this better if you don’t tell me what—”

In a second, Vernon has your back pinned against the bathroom counter. His lips capture yours in a bruising kiss, giving your quick gasp no time to leave your mouth. He swipes his teeth over your bottom lip while his hands roam from your waist to the expanse of your hips. Soon enough, his tongue is inside of your mouth. He holds your neck with one hand while the other sits on the back of your thigh, hitching it up to press your leg against his side. 

He feels the warm skin of your thigh in his palm and the center of your legs against him, making him groan. His touches and the sounds leaving him make you moan in kind into his mouth, and he swallows it blissfully.

When you separate for breath, you look deep into his eyes. Vernon’s expression brims with naked emotions, ones undecorated and unprepared, ones he cannot hide anymore. “If that’s the only time I got to do that when I’ve wanted to for so long, I had to make it count.” His confession should feel like a shock, something you were not ready for and quick to play off as an after effect of the joints he’s been smoking for the past couple hours, but it doesn't.

Instead, you accept it, with open arms and without a first or second thought to the contrary.

You soak in his words willingly, knowing for certain your heart wasn’t just wishing for someone. It was always wishing, comparing, waiting…for him. And now you have him, in this bathroom, terrified you feel anything less than what he feels for you.

Before he can step back, you take his hands in yours to prevent him from taking them off of your body. How could he think you could stop now? “Han, I need you to touch me more,” you whisper.

Vernon drops to his knees and rubs his hands up and down your thighs, his eyes requesting permission to hike up your skirt. Instantly, you nod.

He raises the denim up over your hips, meeting the cotton of your underwear with his mouth. As soon as his lips are on you, the cloth barely separating him from your clit, most of your coherent thoughts become lost to the wind.

Once he takes his fingers and moves your underwear to the side, you know you’re about to lose the breath in your lungs as well. His tongue licks a long stripe up your pussy, taking in the length of you with ease to maximize your pleasure. Your body quakes from how good he is at running his lips and mouth across you. You take in heavy breaths to try and steady yourself, but it’s no use.

Your best friend is eating you out too well and you have no idea how to function properly. You clutch his head with your hand and move your hips in time with the patterns of his mouth. The throes of your orgasm are so close, and it may just break you.

Vernon prods a finger at your walls, and you feel your body shake harder. “Han, I’m gonna come. Please don’t stop.” He hums against you and takes that as the green light to insert the digit completely.

A couple of strokes to the inside of your gummy walls and his tongue lapping at your clit makes you fall apart, whimpering quietly as to not have the people right outside the door hearing you climax.

Coming down, you sigh in pleasure. The sound morphs into breathless laughter. “I love you,” you finally say with a frail tone, but those three words have never been more true than right now.

The smile on Vernon’s lips revealing his gums and teeth is almost too radiant to stare at. It reminds you of butterflies, especially the ones that still flutter in the small spaces of your chest when he looks at you so reverently. Gently, he takes your cheek in his hand and says, “I love you too, pretty girl.”

You don’t leave the bathroom for another five minutes, spending that time in awe of what’s transpired and soaking in the feelings and love you’ve expressed to each other, all while you feel the bass of a Childish Gambino song beat against the bathroom walls.

The shuffle into your apartment is so quick you don’t hear Vernon close the door and lock it behind you. Even though you spent enough time pressed against each other in Woozi’s bathroom, the sticky and sweet feelings coming back to you in flashes, Vernon did not let go of your hand the entire walk home from the party. “It was so cold outside, I’m sure my nose is red.” Looking in the hallway mirror, you frown. “Yeah. I look like a reindeer.” You pout, falling into a fit of laughter. 

Vernon chuckles, releasing his hand from yours to place on your cheek, his fingers oddly warm. He kisses the tip of your nose lovingly. “You’re a cute reindeer, if that helps,” He says. Stepping away from you, he takes off his jacket and places it on the coat-rack. “A few minutes with the heater on and it’ll feel like summer in here.”

“Don’t make me sweat, weirdo.”

“I kind of already did, but noted.” Vernon smirks, and right after the next giggle leaves your mouth, you stop to watch him.

Despite knowing how he tasted and how the timbre of his laughter felt against your neck, you knew those things didn’t compare to the candid moments that made you love him. He didn’t take notice of the squinted shape of his eyes reading his phone screen, or even the press of his hand against your back to make you feel safe. But you did, every instance more clear than they’ve ever been before. They were so minuscule on their own, but when they were all stacked together in every year and tear and smile, it was a wonder how you didn’t know you fell in love with him so long ago. 

You don’t have to tell him you feel that way, though. He can see it in the stillness of your eyes, in the small and tender smile painting your mouth, in the red tint of your cheeks. He has felt the same too many times to count. You claimed his heart for all the reasons he claimed yours. Of course, it took you both almost half a decade to realize it.

He steps closer, a breath separating your bodies. Taking your hand in his, he kisses each finger before pressing his lips to the knuckles. You grin wider and rest your head on his chest. It’s a tiny marvel to feel the steady thrum of his heart against your ear, all the times being strictly platonic. Its tempo is a soft rhythm that has sent you to sleep on multiple occasions during sleepovers and movie marathons. Now, it’s as if the rhythm sounds different, beating with an entirely different meaning. You suddenly feel shy with him this close, the silent actions speaking for themselves.

“Are you tired,” he asks, lips brushing the curve of your scalp.

You shake your head. “No. I’ve never felt more awake.” You look up at him, a realization at the forefront of your mind. While you may have been together all night, and your mutual confession in Woozi’s bathroom was barely two hours ago, it feels like a world away since you last touched him. Intent, charged with what needs to be spoken and doesn’t, too vivid to go unnoticed.

Like the blunt release of a bowstring, it’s a sudden rush of lips gravitating to each other. The sensation is a mix of headiness and affection. In you, it’s the pull of your hands on the brown waves of Vernon’s hair and smiles slipping in between his kisses. For him, it’s the swipe of his tongue against your bottom lip to let him in, let him guide, and the reverence of kisses across your throat saying the words he knows are on your mind because they’re on his too. I love you and I want you and I need you and I don’t know how I’ll ever stop.

You make contact with the heat of Vernon’s skin when his sweater rides up, revealing the dips of his hip bones above the waistline of his pants. You spread your hands up and underneath the material to feel more of him, the warmth you desire, and the home that resides there. In his own desperate fingers, you realize he’s also exploring the places in you where he finds comfort and love.

The two of you stumble into the bedroom, caring almost as little as you did entering the apartment. You’re both so focused on each other the rest of your surroundings seem to be background noise, but Vernon does nod when you mention birth control. The back of your legs knock into the mattress, but you don’t mind with his lips at your neck, kissing and occasionally biting. He detaches his lips from your skin to tug abruptly on the hem of your skirt, wanting it gone. He rests his hands there, the request for permission clear. Once he takes it off, you raise your arms to let him remove your top as well. Once you’re clad in your undergarments, you help him with taking off his sweater in a haste, reaching for him again when the fabric finally falls to the floor. The renewed closeness seems to snap you both from your trance.

Your gaze reaches up to his eyes, and his are filled with patience and adoration. “We don’t have to rush, you know,” Vernon murmurs. He could easily let the time speed past him like he did earlier, certain there will be more moments like this to cherish at a slower pace. However, he can't deny he wants you as close as possible, determined to not let his words or actions go unsaid anymore.

You nod, running one hand against his chest while the other curls around the back of his neck. You place featherlight kisses to the column of his jaw as he unclips your bra. Each clip feels tentatively released, as though he’s slowing the two of you down like he wants to remember every moment. Maybe he feels this will only last until the morning, but little does he know that there's no way anyone or anything could be worth giving him up, not as a friend and definitely not as a lover.

He finally unbuckles his belt with determination and lets the metal clank on the wood floor. The only clothing left between you is your underwear, still damp from your previous activities, and his boxers. Immediately, you wrap your arms around each other when the busy work is finished, a clash of teeth and tongue following. A muddled moan escapes your mouth and reverberates against his throat when his groin brushes yours and his hands find your breasts. He rolls one nipple between his index and thumb while he squeezes your other breast with his opposite hand, teasing your skin with the pads of his fingers. The skin puckers and swells at his ministrations, the sensitivity between your legs growing again, wetness pooling there and leaving you aching.

The mattress dips underneath your weight when you fall onto it. You grip Vernon by the waist, but he only takes your hands away from his body and intertwines his fingers with yours. He’s all gravity, his seriousness palpable. The faintness of a smirk sits on his lips, but he shows no intentions of smiling. His boxers seem to grow tighter against him, but you don’t look away from his eyes. “Come here, Han. Please,” you whisper, spreading your legs wider, in hopes he can see how deep the ache he’s placed in every part of you goes. Vernon kisses each one of your palms before releasing them.

“Show me first. Show me how much you want me.” You bite your lip and use your hands to lower the cotton fabric of your underwear until it comes off. Your right hand trails up your body and lands on one of your breasts, squeezing and testing. No matter how you touch yourself, it doesn’t make up for the feeling of Vernon’s hands on your chest. His breath hitches when you press your opposite hand to your clit, a garbled moan unraveling on your tongue.

You tease yourself in small circles, enjoying the expanse of wetness you feel, and press your thumb to your clit again to make your hips roll. It feels like it should, a nice reprieve from the short time you’ve spent without any physical contact. But the lust-blown color in Vernon’s eyes, turning the brown irises that you love almost black, is what makes raspy sounds of pleasure leave your mouth. You want his hands instead of yours, as well as his mouth and his body on you, but his stare is enough to keep you going for him.

To amplify your torture even more, Vernon tugs at the waistband of his boxers until they fall at his feet, his cock fully erect. With the bottom of your lip stuck between your teeth, you run a finger up and down your slit at the thought of him on top of you, underneath you, and more. You release a whimper when he runs a hand up and down his cock, the tip swollen and leaking pre-cum already. You remain there together, sharing heady gazes and touching yourselves with slow and painfully gratifying motions, suspending all of the tension of the night into the air until one of you drops it. A loud, broken groan escapes him in response to the contact of his hand against himself and your body begging to be touched. If only he would let go and touch me, you think to yourself as you feel a satisfying clench in your belly.

“God, I can’t wait to be inside of you,” he says, the last words catching in his throat.

You stop to sit up and grasp the head of his cock, running your hand up and down the girth to replace his. It causes Vernon’s body to shiver exquisitely, and you revel in the way your touch affects him almost half as much as his affects you. You whisper, “You don’t have to wait.”

Those words prompt him into action, pressing his free hand to your cheek and diving for your lips. The two of you fall flat onto the bed, and when his tongue enters your mouth once again, you can’t hold back. You grind your body against his, feeling the press of his erection at your center. “Please, I want you to fuck me so bad.” In the midst of your arduous haze, Vernon’s mouth turns into a wide smile, one you forgot you could miss so much.

You laugh at the beautiful twinkle in his eyes, lust laced into the sound. “What?”

“Aside from you telling me you love me, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear those words”—he brushes an index finger along your lips—“come out of your pretty mouth.” You bite on the tip of his finger, and he pulls it away with a smirk. He replaces it with his lips, using his hand to align and direct the head of his cock to your entrance.

He has no desire to rush, though, a slow, languorous push of his hips to press his cock inside of you following a soft kiss to your temple. But with a sudden jolt of his next thrust that makes you yelp in pleasure, you can tell that desire is starting to wane. “Sorry,” he says, “fuck, you just feel—“

“I know,” you agree. He’s so patient and loving, but the way he fills you and drives in and out, you want nothing more than for him to grips your hips and make a mess of you. After trailing a string of kisses from his cheek to his neck as he continues trying to restrain himself with drawn-out thrusts, you say, “I don’t want you to go slow. We have time for that later.”

“I just—Are you sure?” His eyes reveal all of the yearning he has felt and the doubts that still linger in his mind, the exposure of his feelings almost too much for you to bear. You kiss his lips once again, hoping all of your reciprocated emotions pour out of you and into his reservations to drown them out.

“After tonight, I’ve never been more sure of anything.” Vernon nods and places his hands on your hips, the pressure exemplary. You wrap yours around the nape of his neck.

With a sharp and hard thrust, you moan into his mouth, loving how he pushes himself into you to the hilt. He continues his pace without slowing, loving the smack of his and your hips against each others’ and the way his body connects to yours.

“Fuck,” you whisper in unison, dragging your nails up his biceps and shoulders as he grips your hips harder. You may find bruised skin tomorrow morning, but at the moment, you love how tight his hold is on you. You wrap your legs around his lower back so he can angle his thrusts, and it feels like drowning and burning in the same breath.

From the chest to the hips, there’s an array of points where your bodies meet. With an overwhelming feeling of fullness pervading your body, you’re certain now there was never a time for anyone else to claim your heart when he had claimed it for his own long ago. You close your eyes to enjoy the thoughts bursting at the forefront of your brain alongside the build of your release, but the press of Vernon’s hand against your chin makes you snap your eyes open.

He pushes in deep, filling you to the brim once again, hitting the sweetest spot within you that has you digging the heels of your feet into his skin. You keep your eyes locked with his, but the way he presses down against your body and the new feeling of his hand against your neck makes it difficult to keep your focus on anything besides the profusion of sensations he’s giving you. You pull him in for a deep kiss, all while you push your hips back against his. This time, you capture a groan from his mouth with your lips. The hand against your neck shakes as his hips stutter, the established pace falling off.

In the midst of his lips being attached to yours, You notice the tinge of a whine accompanying his groans and how labored his breathing becomes. You press your fingers to your clit, rubbing circles into your flesh to follow him to his release with your own.

At this point, you cannot tell which sensation feels the best: Vernon’s tongue flicking against the roof of your mouth, his cock sinking into you, his hand pressing lightly against your windpipe, or the drum of your fingers along your center. Regardless, you love the filth and sweetness of each one, and how you’re sharing the same sensations with the man you love. It’s all you could ask for. You cry out when you finally orgasm. Clenching around him, you hold on to every second of the white hot bliss that coats every space of your skin.

Vernon lets out a long string of moans when he releases, filling you up and spilling inside of you. His thrusts come to a halt, pushing his hips one last time to milk what's left of his climax. Breathing fast, you press your forehead to his. Your heartbeats are drums, beating hard and clashing against each others’ tempos. With time pressed against each other, your bodies sticky and his cock still inside of you, they slowly find their way to a soft beat that compliment each other. Vernon huffs out a breath into the space of your neck, and you kiss his temple before he can raise his head and look into your eyes.

“I love you,” he says, panting, his face lit up in the dark. It’s as though he’s found rapture in the solace of your bed and in your arms, and you would not fight him on the sentiment because your smile mimics it tenfold.

“I love you, too.” You kiss him long and sweet, the damn taste of his mouth a new and unending craving.

He pulls out of you to grab some tissues from the bathroom, but not leaving without pecking your nose, which makes you giggle more than it should. He comes back to bed and wraps himself around you, and you breathe in his scent as he rubs soothing circles into your back. Despite that, you still yearn for more of his body against yours, too touch-starved to go back. “Han?”

“Hmm?” He asks, raising his head from the crook of your neck to look into your eyes.

“Could you…I don’t know,” you fumble, unsure of how to get your point across. In trying to find the right words, Vernon seems to understand as a small, boyish grin spreads onto his face. You two discussed your kinks lots of times, sometimes for the fun of it, and Vernon knew some of yours were based solely on your desire for connection and intimacy. And how could he say no to you now when all you wanted was to be close to him?

Wrapping a hand around his cock, he hisses from the lingering traces of sensitivity. He strokes himself a few times before he grows hard again and sinks himself inside of you. While he shudders from feeling you take him so well, he doesn’t roll his hips and you don’t rock back against him. You only press your bodies closer together, love and fullness coaxing you to sleep in tandem with the sound of Vernon’s heartbeat.

The sun bleeds through your curtains, and normally you would trudge to the window to close them shut and fall back asleep peacefully. This time, though, you don’t mind it when you see the rise and fall of Vernon’s naked chest in the sunlight, all while feeling his arms wrapped around you. You know you could watch him sleep all day, the gape of his mouth so kissable and the warmth of his skin calling to be savored. However, those thoughts come to a halt when the sudden desire to grab something to drink hits you. Hating to leave him, you press a soft kiss to Vernon’s temple.

You take an old button-up of his from your closet and tiptoe to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. You know your bed is a room away, but you gulp down the drink to make it there faster. Of course, when you walk back into your room, you see an awake Vernon with a hand propped behind his head. His eyes are droopy, but a sugary smile sits on his lips nonetheless, taking in your article of clothing. “Is that my shirt?”

You grin, a blush creeping on your face. “You left it here, so that makes it mine.” On some level, you had worried this morning would be awkward no matter how many times you had said you loved each other the night before. Still, the ease of falling into your shared banter and routine comforts you. 

“Point taken. You look cuter than I do in it, anyway.” 

Vernon pats the empty spot next to him you were previously occupying, and you have no qualms crawling back into it and into his arms. “Does that mean I can wear all of your shirts when I want? I mean, since I look so cute in them,” you joke, kissing several spots on his jawline.

His hand creeps up to your shoulder, and thanks to the lack of buttons fastened together, he slides the fabric down until one of your breasts peaks out. “As long as I’m the only one who sees you out of them.”

“I think we established that last night.“ You giggle into his neck. “But, to reiterate, yes. You’re the only one I’ll share all of my terrible jokes with, take with me to Taco Tuesdays, and get undressed for.”

Vernon smirks. “That’s what we do anyway, minus the last part.”

“Well, call it an added bonus then, since we’re in love and all.”

The laugh that leaves his lips stops your heart, and you wonder if it’s possible to pack away a sound in your mind for every good and bad day, just to recall this moment. “Deal.”

With that, he places a kiss on your lips as the sun continues gleaming through your window.

You spend the rest of the early morning that way, wrapped up in each other and not bothering to dress. After another post-morning sex nap, you two spend the rest of the day cuddled up on your couch with Chinese takeout, reminiscing about the past, but ready to find out where the future takes you both. Lucky for you, with the way Vernon looks into your eyes, loses his train of thought every time you kiss him, and finds it again when you smile, the future has the potential to be pretty beautiful.

[hyuckswoman]

mark and you arguing pt2

pt1

genre: angst then fluff

summary: after rain comes sunshine, he finally listens.

pairing: mark x y/n

“good morning” you say to your boyfriend as you pass through the kitchen reaching into a cabinet to take out a glass 

last night had been tense, because of the argument you had a really hard time sleeping, waking up every five seconds. it didn’t help that your boyfriend was the exact same, the only difference between you two being the guilty look on his face

you wanted nothing more than to tell him to forget about it and just cuddle him to sleep because being mad at him or more like emotionally tired wasn’t easy. yes, he fucked up but he’s still the greenest of green flags ever and you just love him too much so being apart with all those angsty feelings was taking a toll on you

but you decided to stand your ground nonetheless, it couldn’t be like every other time where he swooned you with his words and you ended up forgiving him. he had to learn. and even on your end, it’d be fucked up to put yourself through this. so when you woke up this morning with no one next to you, you decided to not care. turns out he was just in the kitchen though

“good morning lovely, i tried to make breakfast, i couldn’t so i went and bought some, your favorite of course, i’m just reheating it right now, juice is in the fridge by the way” your boyfriend greeted you, his back facing you (which you 100% guarantee is because he’s shitting his pants and hopes the tension eased) 

it did not though

“not only did you call me bitchy yesterday, you also said some dumb ass thing about if you were with her.. mark you’re not dumb you damn well that it’s going to take more than breakfast to ease things with me, don’t piss me off so early in the morning please” you said pouring water into your glass, getting out of the kitchen. you and mark took pride in your communication skills, so you weren’t giving him the silent treatment more like you didn’t want to be in the same room as him right now because him acting as if nothing happened pissed you off even more 

the guy was going to have to practically beg for you to be okay with him again 

“..i know, and i’m sorry” mark sighed as he joined you in the living room with the food he bought earlier hoping that despite you not being happy with him, you’d still eat cause no matter how bad the situation is, it’s important to take care of yourself! 

“like i said yesterday, i heard you mark but you know.. actions speak louder than words, until we’ve reached a point where she won’t ever be the cause of a disagreement there’s always going to be some sort of tension” you said as you reached for the food. yes, the food wasn’t an enough apology but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it 

“i know, that’s why i’m going to see her later today, set some real boundaries, tell her off kind of because i do really- and i’m not just saying this to please you or whatever, she has crossed some boundaries that she shouldn’t have so yeah maybe her and i aren’t as close friends as i thought we were” your boyfriend says pouring your favorite juice into your now empty water cup 

first of all, you did appreciate your boyfriend doing all of that (FINALLY!!) but you weren’t going to explode with joy because of him doing the bare minimum 

second of all, your boyfriend is just as much in the wrong as she is. and you debated on telling him that he should also self reflect but decided that you truly wanted him to realize it without you spelling everything out to him 

so you just hummed to the news, finishing up your breakfast heading upstairs while your boyfriend cleaned up and got ready to meet his friend

external pov? 

“hi markie” his friend said as your boyfriend took seat in front of her 

“did i make you wait long?” he replied. despite him not greeting her, her smile grew as she realized he cared about her enough to worry about her time 

“no don’t worry i just got here, anyway you wanted to talk?” she asked in anticipation, it was probably going to be good news (although good news for her meant bad news for you) she hoped your guys maybe broke up or something 

“yea and i’m going to talk for a while so please do not interrupt me” he asked as she nodded eagerly waiting for the breakup news to drop 

“i wanted to talk to you about yesterday, or every single hangout we’ve done ever since i started dating y/n. like i said, y/n and i are dating and i truly think she’s the one so i want to do everything in my power not to fuck it up. and that includes you stepping over boundaries that you shouldn’t step over seeing as though we’re friends. i think last night made me realize how odd? you were around me, how your hands lingered on me maybe a bit too long for a friend, or how you cut off my girlfriend when she was trying to talk, how you made backhanded comments towards her and look, i'm not asking you to like her but she's my girlfriend and she deserves some respect and i'll choose her over you in the blink of an eye. that’s why i’m choosing to put some distance in between us, at least until i’m 100% sure your behavior won’t be the same” mark finishes his rant, his fingers playing with his ring, dreading his (impulsive) friend’s reaction

“ain’t no fucking way you’re being serious right now mark, i’ve known you my whole life and you choose some random girl over me?” his friend says angry that not only you guys are still together but he’s dropping her for..you?? 

“if you don’t have anything respectful to say about y/n i’ll just leave clearly you’re not listening” your boyfriend answers, his patience getting tested 

“no, you don’t get the last word i do. you want to drop me for her? fine. i’ll do fine without you mark but what you cannot do is put the blame all on me. yes, i’ve been inappropriately acting with you but it’s only because you allowed it. each time i thought i was maybe reading too much into the mixed signals you were giving me you reassured me by apologizing because- in your own words - she was being irrational. mark, you are as much to blame as i am and i won’t sit here and let you shift the blame entirely onto me because you allowed me to flirt with you, which is something you would’ve never done if you loved your girlfriend as much as you say you do. and for the first time ever, i do hope you guys break up but not because i want you to myself but because she deserves better than you. fuck you mark” his friend says leaving the café leaving a dumbfounded mark. 

i mean she wasn’t wrong, if he had set clear boundaries from the start she would’ve never flirted with him. your boyfriend started to wonder if that was perhaps the reason why you weren’t THAT enthusiastic this morning when he told you he’d make things right.

so the whole drive home, mark’s head was clouded with thoughts that mainly centered around him being the biggest asshole ever, not only from the words he told you yesterday but also from the way he’s been acting all this time. and it saddened him that he put you through all of that. 

it’s with a heavy heart that he entered your shared house, silently praying god you weren’t going to realize that you do deserve better than him (which he knew was selfish but didn’t care) 

« so… how did it go? i don’t know what you told her but if it’s the same thing you told me this morning I’m guessing she didn’t take it very well » you say watching your boyfriend enter the house 

you guessed it must have went sour judging from the gloomy face he’s making and how deep in thought he seems to be. You didn’t like his friend but you know he liked her very much so you hoped that she said something along the lines of ‘yes i understand and i’m sorry, i’ll respect your boundaries better in the future and i’m hoping we can still be friend’ to salvage their friendship but at the same time you weren’t a fool and you knew that it realistically could never happen 

« it didn’t go super great, we’re not friends anymore but you know in retrospect it’s not a huge loss she wasn’t as good of a friend as i believed she was » you boyfriend started sitting down next to you on the couch 

you wondered what was up with him though, he looked genuinely devastated and it worried you to see him in such state 

« then what’s up? i wouldn’t usually pry and instead wait until you open up to me, but mark i’m concerned you look… sad. and i know we’re in a disagreement right now but i still sincerely believe that you’re the love of my life so i hate to see you upset » you say as your boyfriend slowly lifts his head and looks at you with glossy eyes before his first tear shed 

you immediately hugged your boyfriend rubbing his back as he mumbled through tears about how you deserved better, which you were confused about where it came from, so when his tears quieted down you looked at him waiting to explain

« she just… she said something about how we’re both in the wrong and it upset me because she’s right and she made me realize it instead of me realizing it on my own.. and she said you deserved better and at first i thought whatever she’s just mad i don’t care but she’s not wrong. You deserve better than a boyfriend who lets his friends flirt with him and who dismisses you and acts as if their friend is correct. i’m not trying to victimize myself or manipulate you with my words i’m just really sorry that i’ve been such an undeserving boyfriend and i selfishly don’t want to let you go when maybe i should so, please, give me another chance and i’ll prove to you that i can be the boyfriend you deserve. i swear i’ll be better just please don’t leave me » you boyfriend says. 

you were honestly kind of taken aback by every single one of his thoughts. you did feel a little guilty at first but that quickly went away when you remembered why you guys were in this situation in the first place. 

« listen, like i told you i’m not mad. i was just tired of you not listening to me but it seems like you’ve heard me this time even though i wished it had not gotten that far. i love you and i do not deserve better than you, you fucked up but i fuck up all the time as well and even though i did not picture the end of this situation with me reassuring you, it does not mean that you’re manipulating me, you feel guilty and that’s normal because you messed up but we’ll move past this. it’s a little bump in the road. and i sincerely think that if this situation has taught us anything it’s that we shouldn’t listen to your friend, ESPECIALLY when she says you’re not good enough for me. now dry your big boy tears and let’s go watch a movie yea? all is better don’t worry anymore » you told your boyfriend. 

you really meant your words, everything that mark needed to learn from this he learnt, you knew him well enough to guarantee that you won’t ever be put in a similar situation ever again and that this whole mess kinda made your boyfriend grow up a little? 

plus you were never one to hold grudges, so finally calling this fight over to cuddle and watch a movie with your highly sensitive, still borderline crying boyfriend was quite an easy thing to do. And even though you told him it was okay the next billion times he apologized to you during the following days, it did not stop him from spoiling you with gifts, kind words, actions etc.. like the man shoved all five love languages down your throat and even though it wasn’t necessary, it was always nice and made you feel loved.

that’s why in retrospect, you were (kinda) glad this whole thing happened and he was glad he learnt how to be better for his pretty girl. 

[suguru-getos]

//fractures// geto suguru x f!reader // chapter 3

links 🔗: part one // part two

story summary: being a monkey is the norm except when you're captured by geto sama because he needs money from your parents. however, you may just have to suffer a little extra because of the forced thinking about the right and wrongs... you're putting him through. the affection you’re forcing him through…

chapter summary: after getting a fever from the injury, geto calls shoko to treat you — however, he ends up being conflicted and bruising your psyche again with his words & actions. you, (sorta?) fight back this time though.

warnings: signs of abu$e, heavy degradation, mean mean mean MEAN geto, reader also gets mean by the end of it. fluff if you squint-,-

a/n: i'm just writing off this chapter for my funsies :3 but please it is such a 'dead dove do not eat' story so i'd suggest people PLEASE read it after heeding through the warnings ;) also, not beta’d 🤺✨

"its 100 degrees." manami sighs, taking the thermometer out of your mouth. a soft pout on your lips, "then do something to get rid of it, where is the anti-fever medication?" suguru raised a brow. after having your hand carved, it was obvious you would get a high fever. it was too much toll on your body. ever so evident anyway. "and some painkillers." you added, frankly you were still sweating in pain, it hurt. everywhere hurts. "the doctor will be here soon." suguru huffs, looking at manami dismissively, he can't really show that his heart is breaking apart for a good for nothing monkey after all. manami leaves with an eye roll. she felt conflicted too, geto's feelings were enabling everyone to think a little about their actions.

soon, shoko was here to heal you. she glanced at your form, you were beaten and bruised. eyes mingling with suguru, "she is a non-sorcerer." she commented, and raised a brow. "geto, I am surprised she is alive here" she hums, no expression on her face whatsoever. suguru doesn't respond, and neither do you. it did not help at all that she was amazed at something like that. after a second or two, you hummed, "cus he wouldn't get the money from my parents."

suguru's eyes widen, it- is it? is it the money that's making him act this way? no, money is never above his moral compass. the whole reason you're so tattered is because money doesn't matter. his resolve is just being tested, that's all. "shoko, don't heal her." suguru's jaw twitches, he doesn't want to do this but seems like he has to. "I want her worthless self to remember who she is even after she leaves, I want that shit to scar." he crosses his arms, looking at you with predominant hatred.

your heart sinks, you hadn't even thought about how it would feel… to see the grotesque mark looking in your hand for the rest of your life. monster, geto suguru is a monster.

tears well up in your eyes, shaking your head no rapidly. "please don't- please s' hurting too much-" you begged, hands reflexively gripping at his gojo-gesa. "no- no- g-geto? geto- sama" you answered again, while suguru notices how your body shivers in pain and drenched in sweat. "did I say you could touch me? you piece of shit?" a snarl echoed through the room, geto's hand raised to hit you but stopping, you were cowering, all small and flinching. just like his girls. hot and cold, his behavior has been hot and cold. one moment he was hugging you to calm you down, now, he's ordering shoko to let you suffer in pain. "if you touch me again, you filthy monkey, I will make sure to break every bone in your body and leave you handicapped in the basement to rot and starve." his jaw clenched, while you couldn't do anything but listen. you don't want to die anyway. "I'm sorry." you mumbled, heartbroken. six more days with him. your broken voice shoves him back into his senses, he is trying so hard to ensure that it doesn't happen - that he doesn't feel like killing himself, so he is uttering shit, whatever helps to balm his own brimming rebellion against his own thoughts. your eyes are still kind, its just the way they are, you still can't look at him with anything except a silent plea for mercy.

"I think I should heal her, else she would die of an infection." she holds your wrist, a drastic change in your body immediately felt when she began to heal you. your internal injuries, popped lip, the carving, the cumulative blinding pain of it all fading away into nothing. geto only stands still, watching the way your creased brows turn softer, how your pained face turns neutral.

"thank you." you mumbled at shoko, and she smiles. "I don't know why he's got you kidnapped like some third grade movie's villain, but we have another certain someone who can save you perhaps." suguru raises a brow at shoko, the audacity was impressive. she leans back, watching the glimmer of hope in your face. her hand lands onto geto's shoulder, squeezing it firmly. "she's a human, didn't you say picking on the weak was not a good thing geto?" suguru rolls his eyes, gently pushing her away. "leave." he commands instantly, while shoko smiles at you, "see you, ne? y/n san!"

you were curious, who was this other person that she could send to help? then again, you're not sure if anyone could help you against this monster in front of you. suguru sighs, the way he speaks to you torments him more than it could ever torment you. which in-turn, makes him try harder to reach a state where he DOES NOT, feel this pathetic after abusing you. so? he mumbles again. "I wonder if you worked like a stripper mm?" you blinked, unsure where this was coming from. no, you weren't a stripper. you waited for him to continue whatever he meant to say. "I mean you certainly look the part, perky boobs, are they fake or real?" your face pales, so far geto has harmed you but nothing was remotely sexual, this turn makes you want to throw up. the expression of sheer panic on your face isn't gone unnoticed by him. he wants to stop, he wants to make sure he never says something like this ever again. then again, he just needs to 'kill' this kind, and caring part of him anyway. "maybe next time I can carve your insides up with the knife, leave you bleeding if you ever try to touch me again. since you want me so bad anyway?" you shake your head no, like a forced obedient pup in training. he was horrifying, absolutely fucking disgusting and every part of you wished he was dead.

to suguru… though, these were all just words. maybe now you will stop looking at him with hidden expectations that he would be kinder, nicer. more tolerable… you don't deserve that, monkeys don't deserve that!

"you will get your lunch and dinner here, don't move or I will chain you with your hands tied up and let my girls practise boxing on your pathetic rag of a body." christ, he was fucking insane. your mouth couldn't help it-

"you utter so much shit just because you're capable of killing me? maybe you're a frustrated eunuch, clearly looks from that disgusting, vomit inducing face. I hope you're killed like the dog that you are, impaled on something sharp since that's all you could ever think of, bastard." you widened your eyes after these words left your mouth. dead. you are to be dead.

suguru is stunned. "this is what happens when pets like you aren't trained well. as soon as the pain is gone, your mouth is on again hmm?" he's amused, you clearly can't do anything to him. still… your words… hurt. why do they fucking hurt? are you important to him? certainly not-

"mutts sleep on the floor." he yanks you outside the bed, throwing you on the marble floor and leaving.

six more days… and he will have you gone.

six more days, and you will never see the fucking bastard.

[soobchwe]

not a bad thing —⋆˚࿔ 𝐜𝐡𝐬

SFW version of my fic posted here on @heechwe .ᐟ ✿ pairing: hansol (vernon) chwe x fem!reader ✿ word count: 3.7k ✿ genre: fluff, angst if you squint ✿ tags: friends to lovers, light drug use ✿ synopsis: Just because you've been friends for so long doesn't mean Vernon isn't keeping some secrets from you, and you're determined to confront him about it.

“Simple but still cute, or spontaneous and fun?” 

Vernon, sprawled out on his back on your bed, looks up from his phone screen in absolute confusion. He’s wearing a rainbow beanie with his plaid button-up and denim jeans, contrasting your leggings and baggy t-shirt. He always acts unaffected by how good he cleans up when he wants to, but you shake the thought out of your head and wait for his answer. “Come again?” he asks.

You’ve been holding out the red and black cropped, long-sleeve shirts for two minutes for your best friend to see. Maybe he would immediately pick one or take his time deliberating, especially with the cutout in the shirts’ centers meant to reveal hints of cleavage. However, the realization that his attention was stolen long ago by some meme in your friend group’s group chat has you huffing and flinging the shirts at the edge of your bed. 

It isn't the first time you've gotten nervous before a date, and it definitely isn't your first runaround with Vernon being out of touch with both his current and past conversations. Still, you value his advice more than anyone’s. Only you need it in an hour before your date arrives, and he’s being less than helpful. “Pick which one you like, idiot,” you whine.

“They’re literally the same shirt. The only difference is the color,” Vernon retorts. He rolls his eyes and resumes his endless scrolling.

“Exactly! I need to know which color you think I should wear. That way I give off the right impression.”

“And what impression exactly are you trying to give?”

“I don't know! Ready to have a good time but not looking to go too fast. Fuck, if only they had a shirt for that.” You rub your temple, contemplating if going on this date was the right decision.

The day Mingyu offered to set you up with his friend, you had half a mind to shut him down. His insistence on this blind date was too much to say no to, though, and going without any romantic or sexual interests for months seemed to take its toll on your resistance. While Vernon wasn't outwardly against the idea, he decidedly brushed it off with a disinterested hum and didn't mention it once until today.

Once he sees the defeat on your face, he caves, leaving his resting spot to grab you by the shoulders. It’s unsaid, but he practically asks outwardly for you to look him in the eye, so you do. “Listen. This guy is gonna like you no matter what color your shirt is. And you wanna know why?” You shrug, deflated. “Because anyone who can't see how hilarious and gorgeous you are is blind, and we don't hang out with blind people.” Vernon crinkles his eyebrows together and sighs. “You know what I mean. Like, metaphorically blind and shit.” 

You laugh. “Thanks, Han.”

You turn away from him to stare at the two shirts still spread out on the bed. “But back to this. Which color do you like more?”

After waiting a few seconds for his answer, you look over your shoulder. He’s miles away, lost in his thoughts again. The look in his eyes and etches of his face are traced with puzzlement, and when you call his name to get his attention and snap him out of it, it’s still there. No matter how hard he tries to hide it with a tight-lipped smile. “Black. Simple but still cute,” he says, his voice soft as he uses your words from earlier, proving he was still listening. 

Satisfied, you grab the top and turn, ready to make a beeline for the bathroom to get dressed. You stop short when you almost bump into Vernon on your way. It's only then you realize how close the two of you are. Less than a foot apart, to be exact. “I gotta get dressed, weirdo.” You try to sound humorous, but the breath accompanying your words sounds bated and unexpectedly airy.

In that second, all while you trace the outline of Vernon’s lips with your eyes, you wonder if maybe it would be so bad to skip the date altogether and do something else. Anything else. As long as you didn’t have to leave the house or Vernon.

“Right,” he whispers, but has no intention to walk closer to the bedroom door. Slowly, his eyes go a fraction wider than they normally do.

Like a silent cue, he steps away and fumbles over his words. “Okay well, good luck and—Sorry, I just—I’ll see you at Seuncheol’s after. You can tell us how it went. That is if you want to!” He stutters, right as he hits the back of his head against the door.

“Hansol! Are you okay—“

“Yeah! I’m fine!” He takes his beanie off to rub the sore spot. “Don’t worry about me. You don’t wanna be late. I’ll see you later!” He races out of the apartment, mumbling and clutching his head. 

While you curl your hair and put on your favorite pair of jeans for your date, your mind goes back to the look in Vernon’s eyes and the thoughts that raced in your head before he took off. And you speculate about what those two things mean, and if they mean anything at all.

“He didn’t even kiss you? What a dumbass.” Vernon mumbles, grabbing his mocha latte. He takes a vigorous sip, humming at the warmth it brings.

“I know. Now pass me a Splenda packet, please?” You pout. Well-adjusted adults would normally be at home and in bed at ten in the evening. But for you and Vernon, you decide on hanging out in your favorite late-night coffee shop for pastries and cold brew. It was better than sitting around at Seungcheol’s, the usual festivities of weed and alcohol not hitting the same way. You both settled on an alternative to fill your time instead.

“How did it go exactly,” Vernon asks, his voice garbled from the cheese danish he stuffed into his mouth.

“Well, I made it to the restaurant and he was there already, which was nice. But as soon as we started talking about ourselves, he was so flat.”

“What do you mean?” His eyebrow furrow, clearly confused.

“He was just very one-dimensional.”

“How so?”

“I mean, he was either talking about accounting, his accountant friends, or his work projects. Maybe it was better that he didn't kiss me. It might have been as boring as his capacity for communication.” You both share a laugh.

“So, I guess this means you don’t want a boring guy who presses his suits and plays golf on the weekends,” Vernon teases with a grin. You shove him playfully in the arm.

“That’s not the point! I mean, yeah, I don’t mind if a guy is serious, but I want someone who makes me laugh too. Who I don’t have to worry about liking my jokes but also sets a table or buys me flowers once and awhile.” You sigh.

While on your diatribe, Vernon grabbed your vanilla bean frappuccino. In a second, he has your straw in his mouth for a long sip. He smiles when he passes your drink back to you, unapologetic. “Someone who steals your drink for himself?”

You throw a napkin at him in retaliation. “I hate you!”

“Everything okay here, miss?” The barista asks, his name-tag shining against the dim lamps surrounding the cafe.

“We’re all good—Joshua—thank you.” You give him your best smile, to which he flashes his own at you. His teeth sparkle as much as his name-tag does, you think to yourself.

“Just Josh, please. The only one who uses my full name is my mother.”

You two exchange a chuckle, and you notice Vernon is not laughing or smiling at all. His eyes are mere slits, you can barely see the brown in his irises. His mouth follows in the same fashion, but downturned at the corners if anyone was paying close attention.

Joshua hands you a packet of chocolate-covered almonds, and he blushes. “They go really great with the frappes.”

“Oh thank you, but I didn’t—”

“It’s on the house. As long as you keep coming back.” Joshua turns to walk back to the coffee bar, suddenly tense as he leaves you and Vernon at your table.

Looking back to your best friend, you can see why. The original expression on his face has changed to pure anger. Vernon looks like he wants to blip the poor barista out of existence, and his long, hard stare in the guy’s direction might just make his wish come true.

“What’s wrong with you dude?” you ask Vernon directly.

When he turns to look at you, the stone in his expression softens a touch. “That guy seems like a creep.”

“He was just being nice!”

“He gave you a pack of nuts. Who does that?” He scoffs outwardly, and you can’t help but laugh. “What? You know I’m right.”

“Next time a cute guy gives me a snack, I’ll make sure you vet him first.” You wink at Vernon, but he remains hard-pressed. “Come on, don’t be jealous!”

“Of coffee boy? Please.” Vernon shrugs off your comment and crosses his arms. Something unreadable passes over his face for a brief moment. You would ask him about it, but you know the man is anything but overly emotional or easily vulnerable.

You try anyway. “Han, what’s wrong?”

He shakes his head and gets up to throw away his coffee, half unfinished. “Nothing, I’m fine,” he lies, looking away from you with a cold lilt to his tone. “Let’s get out of here.”

The sound of Vernon’s voicemail causes you to grunt in frustration, the beginning of the message you practically know by heart now. After the stint in the coffee-shop, Vernon walked you home without a word and hasn’t interacted with you since then. After being left on read for the past three days, you are all kinds of antsy. Normally, he would text or call instantly with a reason, but it’s been nothing but silence on his end. Your black phone screen makes you rub your temples. What did you do wrong?

“At this point we should send a carrier pigeon,” Lisa says with a shake of her head. 

“She’s got it bad, babe,” Hoshi comments with a wink in your direction. He kisses Lisa on the cheek on his way to their kitchen. 

When things went wrong, it was second nature to confide in Lisa and Hoshi. Two childhood friends turned dance prodigies and then inseparable lovers? They sounded like the plot of a bestselling romance novel. And admittedly, you wish you could find what they had. Why did you have to encounter so many red flags and road blocks?

“I mean, we all know you’ve been down for him for…three years now?”

“Shut up, Soon!” You exclaim, blushing. “I just don’t know why he’s gone AWOL on me.”

“Maybe he’s in a mood. You know him,” Lisa responds.

“Not like this. This is the longest we’ve ever gone without even sending an emoji to each other,” you say with a frown. You scroll through your conversation, the endless blue bubbles making your stomach sink further.

“He’s gonna be at Wooz’s tomorrow night for that party,” Hoshi says with the slam of the fridge door. You nod your head, already aware. Hoshi smirks. “Corner him there.”

Vernon was closer friends than you were with Woozi, someone you knew in passing because of his relationship with your best friend. But you had been to the guy’s apartment many times before. It wouldn’t be weird to attend, sans Vernon. Right?

“Fuck it,” you think out loud. “Lisa, can I borrow an outfit?”

The party is in full swing by the time you arrive. Chan answers the door with a grin, patting you on the shoulder when you step through the threshold. Woozi and Seungcheol are karaoke battling in Woozi’s living room while the rest of the partygoers are either drinking beer or in circles puffing and passing.

You decline when Minghao tries to hand you his half of a joint, a dopey grin plastered on his face. You want to be sober when you confront your best friend for leaving you in the dark for half of the week, even if you know it’ll take the edge off of your nerves.

When you find Vernon, he’s grabbing a hard lemonade from the spare cooler on top of Woozi’s counter. His eyes, the usual white around his irises pink from the party favors, go wide when he sees you. “Fuck me,” he says out loud.

“Yeah, fuck you is right,” you bite back. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

His mouth is agape, giving no attempt to provide an answer. no answer. You get angrier the longer the seconds go by without one.

“Okay, how about an easier question: Why couldn’t you respond with a thumbs up or something when I asked if you were still alive?”

He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, another curse leaving his lips.

“Fine. Keep being weird about whatever the fuck is wrong. I wanted to try and make sure my best friend was okay, but he can’t even give me a solid explanation as to why he’s being a dickhead.”

Vernon takes your hand and walks quickly with you in tow. The people you pass move out of his way before they get body-slammed, some of them confused while others are too drunk or high to care. 

When you make it to a bathroom off of the hallway, Vernon closes the door behind you and locks it. He takes a second before turning to you with a solemn expression. 

“We can’t be friends anymore.” The words that leave his mouth break your heart to pieces and steal any semblance of air from your lungs. You didn’t expect to come into tonight and lose a friend, especially when you were unsure of what you did to cause Vernon to feel that way.

Your eyes begin to water with tears, but you don’t let them run over. “What the fuck do you mean?”

“I’m saying I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” Your voice grows thin. You’re confused how every word from his mouth sounds more sure than the one before while you’re falling apart.

But, even though he keeps up a composed posture, you can tell something inside of him is cracking. His bottom lip is caught in his teeth and his hands are fidgeting, two signs something is bugging him beyond his will.

“Please just tell me what I did wrong and I can fix it. I can’t help make this better if you don’t tell me what—”

In a second, Vernon has your back pinned against the bathroom counter. His lips capture yours in a bruising kiss, giving your quick gasp no time to leave your mouth. He swipes his teeth over your bottom lip while his hands roam from your waist to the expanse of your hips.

When you separate for breath, you look deep into his eyes. Vernon’s expression brims with naked emotions, ones undecorated and unprepared, ones he cannot hide anymore. “If that’s the only time I got to do that when I’ve wanted to for so long, I had to make it count.” His confession should feel like a shock, something you were not ready for and quick to play off as an after effect of the joints he’s been smoking for the past couple hours, but it doesn't.

Instead, you accept it, with open arms and without a first or second thought to the contrary.

You soak in his words willingly, knowing for certain your heart wasn’t just wishing for someone. It was always wishing, comparing, waiting…for him.

The shuffle into your apartment is so quick you don’t hear Vernon close the door and lock it behind you. Even though you spent enough time pressed against each other in Woozi’s bathroom, the sticky and sweet feelings coming back to you in flashes, Vernon did not let go of your hand the entire walk home from the party. “It was so cold outside, I’m sure my nose is red.” Looking in the hallway mirror, you frown. “Yeah. I look like a reindeer.” You pout, falling into a fit of laughter. 

Vernon chuckles, releasing his hand from yours to place on your cheek, his fingers oddly warm. He kisses the tip of your nose lovingly. “You’re a cute reindeer, if that helps,” He says. Stepping away from you, he takes off his jacket and places it on the coat-rack. “A few minutes with the heater on and it’ll feel like summer in here.”

“Don’t make me sweat, weirdo.”

Despite knowing how the timbre of his laughter felt against your neck, you knew those things didn’t compare to the candid moments that made you love him. He didn’t take notice of the squinted shape of his eyes reading his phone screen, or even the press of his hand against your back to make you feel safe. But you did, every instance more clear than they’ve ever been before. They were so minuscule on their own, but when they were all stacked together in every year and tear and smile, it was a wonder how you didn’t know you fell in love with him so long ago. 

You don’t have to tell him you feel that way, though. He can see it in the stillness of your eyes, in the small and tender smile painting your mouth, in the red tint of your cheeks. He has felt the same too many times to count. You claimed his heart for all the reasons he claimed yours. Of course, it took you both almost half a decade to realize it.

He steps closer, a breath separating your bodies. Taking your hand in his, he kisses each finger before pressing his lips to the knuckles. You grin wider and rest your head on his chest. It’s a tiny marvel to feel the steady thrum of his heart against your ear, all the times being strictly platonic. Its tempo is a soft rhythm that has sent you to sleep on multiple occasions during sleepovers and movie marathons. Now, it’s as if the rhythm sounds different, beating with an entirely different meaning. You suddenly feel shy with him this close, the silent actions speaking for themselves.

“Are you tired,” he asks, lips brushing the curve of your scalp.

You shake your head. “No. I’ve never felt more awake.” You look up at him, a realization at the forefront of your mind. While you may have been together all night, and your mutual confession in Woozi’s bathroom was barely two hours ago, it feels like a world away since you last touched him. Intent, charged with what needs to be spoken and doesn’t, too vivid to go unnoticed.

Like the blunt release of a bowstring, it’s a sudden rush of lips gravitating to each other. The sensation is a mix of desire and affection with the words that you both were too scared to say blended in: I love you and I want you and I need you and I don’t know how I’ll ever stop.

The sun bleeds through your curtains, and normally you would trudge to the window to close them shut and fall back asleep peacefully. This time, though, you don’t mind it when you see the rise and fall of Vernon’s chest in the sunlight, all while feeling his arms wrapped around you. You know you could watch him sleep all day, the gape of his mouth so kissable and the warmth of his skin calling to be savored. However, those thoughts come to a halt when the sudden desire to grab something to drink hits you. Hating to leave him, you press a soft kiss to Vernon’s temple.

You take an old button-up of his from your closet and tiptoe to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. You know your bed is a room away, but you gulp down the drink to make it there faster. Of course, when you walk back into your room, you see an awake Vernon with a hand propped behind his head. His eyes are droopy, but a sugary smile sits on his lips nonetheless, taking in your article of clothing. “Is that my shirt?”

You grin, a blush creeping on your face. “You left it here, so that makes it mine.” On some level, you had worried this morning would be awkward no matter how many times you had said you loved each other the night before. Still, the ease of falling into your shared banter and routine comforts you.

“Point taken. You look cuter than I do in it, anyway.” 

Vernon pats the empty spot next to him you were previously occupying, and you have no qualms crawling back into it and into his arms. “Does that mean I can wear all of your shirts when I want? I mean, since I look so cute in them,” you joke, kissing several spots on his jawline.

“I'll accept it.”

You giggle into his neck. “And you’re the only one I’ll share all of my terrible jokes with and take with me to Taco Tuesdays.”

Vernon smirks. “That’s what we do anyway.”

“Well, call the kissing an added bonus then, since we’re in love and all.”

The laugh that leaves his lips stops your heart, and you wonder if it’s possible to pack away a sound in your mind for every good and bad day, just to recall this moment. “Deal.”

With that, he places a kiss on your lips as the sun continues gleaming through your window.

You spend the rest of the early morning that way, wrapped up in each other and not bothering to go outside. You two spend the rest of the day cuddled up on your couch with Chinese takeout, reminiscing about the past, but ready to find out where the future takes you both. Lucky for you, with the way Vernon looks into your eyes, loses his train of thought every time you kiss him, and finds it again when you smile, the future has the potential to be pretty beautiful.

@hyperdramas @tocupid @hursheys @slytherinshua @yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss @pars-ley @lovetaroandtaemin @wonwovy

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[satforsatoru]

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞

➪ 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐭. 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢

warnings: brief, nondescriptive mention of throwing up

a/n: the end feels a little rushed but i've had in this in my drafts forever

A chest-rattling cough left you, one harsh enough that you collapsed backward onto your bed. You were supposed to be doing homework, but you’d had a virtually unshakeable cold, and it was making everything that much more difficult. 

Between classes, exorcizing curses, and extra work, you’d hardly had the time to recover and it had long since begun to take its toll. The buzzing of your phone broke you from your thoughts and you dug it out of your pocket with a pitiful sniffle. 

You weren’t surprised to see the text from your boyfriend, Megumi, especially since you’d been holed up in your room since classes had gotten out hours ago. His text, though short, radiated concern. 

‘Hey, is everything okay w you? You’ve been locking yourself in your room for the last few days… im getting worried.’

Ordinarily, his attention to you would make you swoon, but making him worry was the opposite of what you wanted. What you actually wanted was for your cold to go away quietly without anyone noticing. 

You were busy, but you couldn’t imagine that it compared to what Megumi faced, and you hated the idea of adding another thing to his plate when it was such a minuscule matter.

You quickly typed back a lame excuse about homework and how busy you were before tossing your phone to the other side of the bed. As you curled up with a soft wheeze, you rolled your eyes at the notion of studying. 

At this rate, nothing was getting done until tomorrow, most likely. You let your eyes close, hoping that when you awoke, you’d be feeling better. 

+

You shot up, wide awake before you could even process the act of waking up. Soft knocking cut through your daze, and you blinked, confused for a new reason. “Yn? Can I come in?” Megumi. Shaking your head to further orient yourself, you responded. “Come in!” 

As the door instantly realized that shaking your head had only made you more dizzy, but you didn’t have time to dwell on that now that your lover was already walking up to you. 

“Yn? I brought you some snacks and stuff… you’ve been really busy and I don’t remember you getting dinner,” Megumi murmured, holding out an adorable basket of fruits, crackers, a blanket, and face masks. 

You momentarily forgot your illness and quickly stood up to throw your arms around the ravenette’s neck. “You’re too sweet, love, I really appreciate it,” You grinned, leaning into him. Without even seeing his face, you knew that his cheeks were tinted pink as he held you close, but it only made him more endearing.

“It’s nothing,” he smiled, pulling away, “what are you working on?” You accepted the basket and turned to gesture to your (forgotten) work when it hit you. 

A wave of nausea washed over you, causing your head to spin and your stomach to churn. “Yn? Are you-” Before Megumi could even finish, you were stumbling over to your trashcan, bile rising quickly in your throat. 

You hardly made it in time, dropping to your knees just as you began to heave. Footsteps echoed behind you and then hands were holding back your hair and rubbing your back. 

“Shit, you’re okay, just breathe, love,” Megumi whispered, fear seeping into his voice. After what felt like an eternity the ordeal was over and you slumped backward into your boyfriend’s waiting arms. He tucked you into his chest and gently wiped your face with a tissue.

“Hey, hey, eyes on me, yeah?” He soothed, caressing your cheek, but his face turned stricken. “You’re burning up… have you been sick?” 

You averted your gaze, shame burning through you at not only throwing up in front of Megumi but also how quickly he saw right through you. “Just a little under the weather,” You mumbled, “I’m sorry you had to see that,” You added quietly.

Megumi scoffed, but not unkindly. “You should’ve told me, love. Have you taken anything? Well, I guess you haven’t since you haven’t even eaten,” He answered himself, looking right through you. “How long have you been feeling like this?” He asked suspiciously. 

You hesitated, but his eyes narrowed and you knew that there was no point in lying. “About a week,” You revealed. “That long-! Yn, why didn’t you say anything?” Megumi rushed, conflicted about what to do. 

“It’s just… everyone’s busy and has stuff to worry about, y’know? I didn’t want to add another thing to your plate. It really isn’t that big of a deal, I promise,” You insisted. 

“‘Not a big deal’?” Megumi echoed, frowning deeply, “Yn, you just threw up after being sick for a week. You don’t have to hide this stuff, especially not from me, okay? I don’t want you to be suffering all by yourself.” 

Not giving you a chance to make another excuse, he easily moved you to your bed and carefully laid you down. Guilt began to sit in your stomach like a pit as you watched Megumi mutter under his breath, no doubt creating a plan to help you.

“I don’t want to lecture you, especially not when you’re feeling like this, but… I don’t want you to think for a second that you’re just ‘another thing on my plate’,” Megumi started, lithe fingers caressing your cheek, “you’re my priority, always, I want to help you as much as I possibly can because I truly care about you, more than you can possibly understand,” He finished, leaning closer to you. 

You felt your cheeks warm and you nodded in understanding. “Sorry for disappearing on you,” You murmured. Still, Megumi looked somewhat relieved as he brushed a cool hand across your forehead. 

“I’m just glad I know now… stay put, I’m going to grab a couple things,” He mumbled, already heading toward the door. As much as you felt slightly guilty to derail his day, you couldn’t deny that it was nice to have him take care of you. 

A couple of minutes passed, and you felt your eyelids begin to grow heavy and you were losing the battle against sleep. 

Just when you were about to truly give in to your exhaustion, a damp, cool towel was placed on your forehead. Your eyes blinked open, meeting familiar ones. “Feel good?” He questioned quietly. You nodded, lost in a deep yawn. 

“I brought some medicine for you to take, and then you can get some rest, okay?” Megumi decided, opening a small pill bottle. You sighed but relented and accepted the large-ish capsule and the glass of juice with a small ‘thanks’.

You quickly downed them both, but you couldn’t stop yourself from making a face at the gross aftertaste, to which Megumi let out a quiet laugh. “Not too much,” You huffed, but pulled him by the arm, contradicting your words. 

“Want me to stay while you rest?” He asked, sitting beside you on the bed. A resounding ‘yes’ rested on the tip of your tongue, but you didn’t want to essentially trap him here, especially if he had other tasks to attend to. 

“I don’t mind, I’m kind of tired myself,” He added reassuringly. You pursed your lips, but when the back of his hand carefully caressed your cheek, the rest of your resolve crumbled. “If you insist,” You grinned.

The ravenette rolled his eyes, but joined you beneath the covers, nonetheless. For a few seconds, the two of you maneuvered around until you were comfortably tucked away in his chest. 

Megumi’s lips pressed against your forehead for a long moment and he held you closer to himself. “You’re important to me, okay? I want to be the first person you come to when things happen,” He whispered. 

You finally felt yourself truly relax now that you were right where you belonged. You managed a whispered ‘I love you’ before you succumbed to your exhaustion.

requests are open and reblogs are appreciated!

[faegoddessog]

Affirmations

Warnings: Explicitly Mature Content, 18+, angsty boy, microdosing, sex as therapy, Gentle Dom/subby boy, cunnilingus, felatio, untrotected PiV, (protect yourself out there loves!) established relationship.

Summary: You know all too well the erratic nature of his ego. How he has to hold the soft fragile parts of himself with the equal but opposite hardened bits. Both contribute to his being an incredible actor, but sometimes he just can't balance it all anymore. When it all comes crashing down, you are there. This time, though, you are ready with something a little different.

A/N: So after he finished his recent filming, I remembered how he's talked before about how it can feel like loss for him and triggers abandonment issues sometimes. Then this fic came barreling out. I mean, it's ONE way to get your affirmations in... rewrite that menal script... 😈😉

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“Hey sugar,” you said as he walked in the door. He was earlier than you  had expected. You stand to meet him, knowing he's gonna need a hug at the very least. His face is crumbling mask. “Are you ok? I know how hard a film wrapping is for you.” 

His shoulders slump slightly, grateful to not have to put on a brave face anymore. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he rubs the back of his neck, “I just…I don’t want to let go. It’s just bittersweet.” 

You know he’s talking about his character as much as the fleeting community inherent to filming. You’ve been watching him dig deep for the past few months. You gave him space to do so and had been supporting him in countless little ways. But you too, have been preparing for this day. 

“Well I'm here for you, for whatever you need, even if you just want to sit quietly," you offer.  You know that sometimes he just needs another person near, someone to anchor him a little. Other times, well, he needs more.

He nods to the floor, then looks up with unshed tears in his eyes. He pulls you in for a hug, burying his face in your shoulder. 

“I need a cuddle or something,” he sniffs. 

“Cry if you need to, I love you no matter what,” a gentle reminder. You gather him in and pull the both of you down on the couch.

All his defenses are swept away in those few words, in the simple act of love. He breaks down, sobbing into your shoulder as he begins to process the full weight of his stress, physical exhaustion and the emotional toll of the past few months.

You stroke his back in circles, whispering words and sounds of encouragement. You are fully present with him as he just lets it out. You are only a little surprised it happened so fast. Normally he needs a while to get to this point. Either it's really bad, or he's actually beginning to count on you. 

He sniffs, trying to compose himself, “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You are so patient and gentle with my messy emotions.” 

“Did you take your microdose today?” you ask, knowing the mushrooms help him deal with his depression. 

“Shit, no… not for like a week,” his eyes widen, “no wonder i feel like this,  fuck I’m an idiot!” 

“No you are not,” you say firmly, ” go take them now and I’ll draw you a bath."  He can be so hard on himself. 

“Can it be a bath for us?” his eyebrows raise in query.

“Of course,” you smile. Water is your element, and you love being in it with him. 

He comes into the bathroom a few minutes later, a spoon of dried, crushed ‘shrooms covered in honey in his mouth. It doesn’t take much to keep him balanced, just a sub perceptive a few tenths of a gram. But it helps best when he takes it regularly. 

You are standing in the oversized tub in the soft candlelight. The room smells of relaxing essential oils like lavender, chamomile and ylang ylang. 

His heart swells in appreciation and love for you. 

“Wow,” he stops in the doorway, “you look like the birth of Venus, only more gorgeous.” 

He places the spoon on the counter absentmindedly. 

You smile, blushing. You always feel just a bit self conscious when compliments flow so freely from his angelic face. He is the definition of stunning. Not that it really mattered to you anymore what he looked like. His true beauty is in the way he treated people, treated you, his presence, his unwavering gaze, his genuine interest in people. It all made him even more stunning on the inside. If only he'd treat himself the same way.  This is when an idea strikes you. 

You sit and beckon with your arms. 

“Yes my Goddess,” his clothes puddle on the ground and in seconds he slips with a hiss into the hot water. 

You breathe deep as he leans back against you, hoping to trigger a sympathetic down-regulation in his own breathing.

You pour oil into your hands and begin to work on the knots in his neck and shoulders. You try to ponder your idea, but having him between your legs in any fashion, a casual leg tossed over yours on the couch,  his hand warming between your knees in the car, is so distracting. 

He melts at your touch, surrendering himself little by little. 

“MM that feels incredible,” he murmurs after a few minutes.

“YOU are incredible, hunny. I’m so proud of you,” you are trying not to sound like some mock matron but also you know that he needs those words of affirmation.

He shakes his head and huffs out a derisive laugh, “Praising me for just sitting here? Letting you take care of me?” 

“No, praising you because you are willing to be truly vulnerable with me, because you give so much to your craft, even though you know it can make you feel this way. Praising you because I love you exactly as you are and how you show up in the world.” 

His breath shakes and he wipes at an errant tear, “I don’t deserve you.” 

“Well that is bullshit,” you huff matter of fact, “of course you deserve me.”

“You make it sound so simple,” he manages a small watery smile, “like loving someone who is emotionally unavailable and broken isn’t a huge burden.” 

“Oh, I must respectfully disagree Sir,” you know this is part of his process and dig down for your patience, “you are quite emotionally available, more so than most. Heck you just sobbed in my arms! And we all feel messy and broken at times.” 

“That’s true,” he sighs. 

“Loving you is never a burden,” you assure him, “all I need is for you to be yourself. Plus, you take care of me too.”

“I don’t know about that,” he murmurs stubbornly. 

“Nonsense, you always go out of your way to make me smile when I’m having a hard day. You always make me feel important to you, even when you are deep into your work.”

“You ARE important to me,” he turns suddenly to face you in the tub. His eyes are serious, as though the mere thought of the implication is offensive. 

He pulls you onto his lap, water splashing. “You are my constant, knowing you are here…it... it...” 

He buries his head in your chest, arms wrapped around your torso, unable to finish his thought.   

“Can I ask you a question?” his voice is tentative, nearly a whisper against your skin.

“Always.” 

“Do you ever think that I’m too intense, too dramatic? Not like for work, but in real life?” 

Is this what’s been bothering him so much? You wonder. 

“No baby” your tone reassuring, ”I think you save that for the cameras.” 

“It’s just that sometimes,” he goes on, “ I worry that I’m too needy and sensitive. I don’t want you to get fed up with me, ok? You have to tell me if… if…. Cuz I’m not sure I could do this without you.”

He must have glimpsed some stupid thing online or overheard someone making a stupid comment. He was always listening around people. It’s one of the things that drew people to him, the way he listened. 

“I’m not, you’re definitely not,  and I’m not going anywhere,” you tilt his chin to look in your eyes, “you are allowed to ask for help when you need it and to accept it when offered. We were put on this planet together for a reason. None of us are supposed to do this alone.” 

He heaves a big sigh. After a few breaths, he looks up at you.

“Y’know, when you say things like that, I feel like I can conquer this feeling of not enough. Like maybe I’m not as weak or as broken as I tell myself I am sometimes.” 

“Baby, you are neither weak nor broken. You are human. If I could ask anything of you, it’d be that you are just as kind to yourself as you are to others."  

“Gods,” he pleads to the ceiling, “me too,  but it’s hard to break, hard to not believe it when it’s ME telling myself that I'm not good enough, too sensitive, too needy.” 

“Bah,” you guffaw, “fucking tapes babe, tapes in your head, words from someone else that wormed their way into you. Well I’m implanting new tapes.” You mimic pushing an old cassette into his forehead.  “These tapes that talk of your kindness, your empathy. Tapes that say how your sensitivity is your superpower and helps you to be the amazing actor that you are. Tapes that proclaim you are enough, just as you are.” You give him a knowing look as he blushes.  “You know it’s all true.” You move your legs and straddle his lap water sloshing over the side of the tub. “Do you know why I’m so willing to take care of you like this?” 

He shakes his head, heart racing from both your declarations and your intimate positioning in his lap.  

“Because I know that if I was having a hard day, you wouldn’t hesitate to do it for me. That’s partnership, that’s love.” 

You suspect that the neuroplasticity of the microdose may be starting to take effect. His eyes well up with tears again, this time with a smile.

“You know me so well.  Sometimes you are the only thing that makes sense,” he gathers you in his arms, “I love you, so much.” 

His pulling of your body rocks your hips into his, pushing the fact that he is indeed nestled between your thighs again to the forefront of your thoughts. 

“I love you too, so much,” you run your fingers through his hair, planting kisses on his neck. “I am the luckiest girl in the world.”

He shivers at your touch, at your kisses, his breath catching in his throat. 

“I’m sorry hunny, do you need me to stop? I don’t want to push you if you don’t want….” 

“No, please don’t stop,” he tightens his grip on your hips, pulling them deeper to him. “Your touch, it isn't just sexual, it’s comforting, it’s home. I love it so much. “

“Oh yeah,” your voice low and sultry, “how much.”

“Let’s uh…let’s get out of this tub,” he says all of a sudden. 

You reluctantly climb off him. As you both dry off, you wonder if he caught your offer. At the same time you don’t want to pressure him if he’s worn out.

He climbs into bed, pulls back the covers to his waist, and opens his arms, “Come here, I need to hold you.” Sometimes needs to be skin to skin like this without the sex. 

Seeing him naked in bed and not slipping those sheets down further, not mounting him like some kind of thoroughbred? It’s a hard pill to swallow right now. He’s been so focused on work and has hardly been home for more than just to sleep for a month. You found yourself missing the way his body feels on yours, in yours. It’s gonna be hard not to try and cajole him into sex, but this is what partners do for each other. 

You snuggle against him, trying to disregard the wetness making your inmost thighs slick. 

His arms wrap around you, fingertips trailing over your stomach.

“How much? How’s about I show you just how much,” his voice slides like butter, hot and silky over your ear, “Tell me, how wet are you?”  Apparently, he was picking up what you were putting down. His fingers splay out across your belly, holding you tight as he presses his suddenly hard cock against your backside. Who is tempting who now? 

The smile that tilts your lips is inevitable.

“You know I can’t help it, everything about you turns me on.” You try to sound apologetic, but just can’t. “It’s ok if you don’t want to do anything about it,” you try desperately to keep your voice nonchalant, convincing precisely no one. 

“Turn around,” his voice low with a hint of gravel.

You shrug in mock deference as you turn over in his arms ,  “I can just take care of it myself.”  You are fully aware of how much he likes to see you touch yourself and if that’s all you get out of this evening you are fine with that. But you might also be pushing very specific buttons to get him back between your thighs. 

His cock twitches and throbs against you. 

“As tempting as that is, maybe I want to be the one that makes you feel good,” his chest rumbles. 

A sly smile crosses my face. “I’m supposed to be making you feel good here.” You swing your leg up over him to settle on his upper belly. Your wetness smears in the hollow under his ribs. “I could just do it here, where you can see.” 

“You…. “ he breathes out. 

You reach down and tantalizingly pull your lips apart. A string of thick, wet juices stretch between them. 

“Oh god that is hot,” he says, eyes locked on your glistening flesh. “You know I can’t just… won’t be able to not…” 

“Poor baby boy, unable to finish…” your lips curl into a mock pout at the same time you reach back and wrap your hand around his swollen cock, “...his sentences.” 

“Oh I can,” he flexes his hips, pressing his cock into your fist. His tongue darts out to lick his beautiful lips. “Let me finish,” he whispers nearly to himself.

“Oh does Baby Boy need Ma’am’s little pussy in his mouth?” You toss out your gentle Dom/sub names to see if he's willing. You know that focusing on someone else can help stop his downward spiral.

“Y-yes, Ma’am, I do,”  he blushes deeply, biting his lip and dropping his eyes. Good lord he is so stunningly enticing when he submits like this.

“Would being my good boy make you feel better?” you want to be sure of his consent. 

He nods eagerly, and seriously. You see just how much he wants it, wants to be told what to do and just let his mind go with someone he trusts. 

You raise an eyebrow at him in mock warning. 

“Yes Ma’am,” he quickly says, “I’ll be a good boy.” 

“Just a good boy,” you nearly pout in mock disappointment. 

“Your good boy,” he can’t say fast enough, “I’m yours Ma’am.” 

“Mmm hmm that’s better. I’m going to sit on that gorgeous face now,” you move your body up, knees on either side of his head. 

“Can I push my tongue inside you? Taste you? Please?” his face is fully deep pink now, embarrassed at his boldness. 

“Of course, baby Boy, of course you can tongue fuck me,” you love how he tries not to be crass, but you practically insist on it. You lower yourself onto him slowly, his tongue out and reaching for your folds, flicking as it comes into contact with your wetness. It sinks in, searching for it’s slot.

“Yes, that’s it, tongue that sweet little hole for Ma’am,” you praise him soothingly. Now is not the time for forcing anything.  

He whimpers softly as you finger-comb his hair, the sensation on his sensitive scalp making him feel more submissive.  He burrows his face between your thighs and pushes inside you as far as he can, nose pressed up against the apex of your folds. 

“Good Boy,” you fist his hair and moan, you just barely keep your hips from pressing into his face. “Keep that up and you’ll earn a reward.” One hand reaches back and lightly brushes his hard shaft. 

His moan vibrates your pussy, notching you up just that much more.

“Do you know what others out there would give to ride this beautiful face? Or to suck this pretty cock? How many of them want you to be theirs?” You ask, voice still even and calm.

“No, and I don’t want to, Ma’am,” he mumbles against your wetness ,”I am yours, only yours.” 

His hands grip your cheeks, tilting your hips and  exposing more of you. He runs his tongue over your tight pucker and up over your labia, over and over in supplication.

“Oh fuck yes,” you moan, “ such a good boy, you’re gonna make Ma’am cum. Is that what you want?”

“Mm, hmmm,” he nods, refusing to use his tongue for anything other than pleasing you. His lips close in sucking kisses on your labia, 

One hand in his glorious hair, the other lightly grasping his cock. You give both a squeeze. 

The sensations make his whole body shake. He buries his face in your pussy, tongue thrusting inside.

You free his cock  and he whines and whimpers, humping his hips upward, desperate for attention. 

“Suck on that clit Baby Boy, you gotta make Ma’am cum if you want more.” 

With a desperate whine, he latches onto your clit. His hands grip your hips tightly as though nothing mattered more than worshiping your pussy. 

The sucking and flicking of his tongue sends waves of pleasure through you. His natural attention to detail and the ardor with which he does it, makes his pussy eating beyond heavenly. 

Within minutes you are shaking above him. His fingertips dig into the flesh of your hips, rocking you forcibly back and forth over his face. 

“So close baby,” your voice is little more than a panting whine. 

“Mmm hmmm” his hum vibrates against your abused bundle of nerves and you are gone. Spine jerking, hips grinding, toes curling. Your head is thrown back and your fingers press against his, trying to weave into his, trying anchor yourself somewhere. But his grip is tight to the round flesh of your cheeks.  He laps at you with long licks, prolonging, but not overstimulating. 

“Oh good boy, good fucking baby,” you moan as you look down at him. His eyes shine with eagerness, he loves when you praise him, loves being a good boy for you. 

You dismount the saddle of his messy face. His smile slides into need as your hand trails down his stomach, stopping a hairsbreadth from his quivering tip. 

“Oh darling boy, you more than earned your reward,” you plant the barest of kisses on his wet lips. “How do you want it, my hand or my mouth, sweetness?”

“Y-your mouth, Ma’am, please,” he stutters, little vertical lines of want forming between his eyebrows. 

“Tch, Baby Boy, you know how much I love your cock in my mouth,” you mockingly chide, one fingertip lightly petting his little weeping hole, “are you picking it to please me? Or do you actually want it?” 

“Yes, no, yes,” his head tries to agree with his words but ends up just drawing scribbles with his chin.

“Well, which is it?”

“Yes please, it’s what I want,” he breathes out.

“And you deserve what you want, don’t you Baby Boy.” 

He hesitates, mind balking at feeling worthy of what he wants. 

“Don’t you,” you insist, swiping this precum over his head with the pad of your thumb.

“Ok, yes, I deserve it,” he relents. 

“Mmmm, yes you do,” you move between his legs, “now reach back, grab the headboard with both hands and keep them there.” 

He immediately obeys, forearms popping in lines as he grips.  His legs spread wider, giving you room to do your work. He is so eager to have your mouth on him. 

His cock, leaking and hard, jumps and jerks in an attempt to get closer to your face.

“You’re gonna give me all your cum, right? Let Ma’am take care of you?” you ask just before your tongue reaches out to lap at his frenulum.

He trembles at your teasing lick, nodding frantically. 

“Y- y-yes Ma’am, I- I’ll give you everything,” his breath catches as you take his tip in your mouth, your tongue swirling. 

You slide up and down, covering him in your spit. Holding him upright with a light forefinger and thumb, you massage your soft palate with his tip. The deeper you take him, the lower his groans become.  His glutes flex and his balls tighten. 

You pull off to his whiny protest both in his voice and in the straining of his hips from the bed. 

“Who’s an amazing boy?” you ask, rubbing his tip over your lips like so much lipgloss. 

“Please Ma’am,” he whines. 

You give him the look, the one that says ‘answer the question asked’.

“I-I am, I’m amazing, I’ll be the best boy for you Ma’am, just please,” his need making a beggar out of him. 

“Yes you are,” you lower your mouth back down, engulfing him for two more minutes. The uninhibited sounds he makes are music to your ears; groans, huffs, deep shaky oh- hohs.

“And who is going to accept help when he needs it without feeling guilty?” you purr to him.

Your ears are met with a cacophony of his whimpering moans. 

“Me, I will, ask help, no guilt,” his words muddle together.

“Good boy,” you lightly rub up and down his shaft, “and who is deserving of my love?” 

“Me” his voice is strained with desire, “I deserve your love.” His hips buck into your hand.

“That’s right” you plunge his needy cock into your mouth and he’s back to sounds of pleasure. After five deep bobs of your head you come off with a pop. 

“Who’s sensitivity is his superpower?”

“Me, mine, my power” he is panting heavily now, body shuddering with unmet need. “Please Ma’am please let me cum.” 

You stop touching him all together. His arms are taut gripping the headboard as he stops from reaching down to jerk himself off. 

“Oh Baby Boy,” you softly rebuke, “I will, just keep doing as I say. Now tell me you love yourself and that you are worthy of love and recognition.” 

“I- l love myself,” his voice is laced equally with need, desperation and vulnerability, “I am worth loving” a tear escapes down his cheek. “I am worthy of recognition and appreciation.” 

He looks down at you, planted between his thighs.  His defenses are stipped away and there you are  forcing him to say things that he has never allowed himself the luxury of believing. 

“Now repeat it as I suck you off,” you lower your mouth to just out of reach, waiting for him to speak.

“I, oh fuck” he moans as you hover over him.  

“Let me hear you, or I’ll stop,” you warn.

“I love myself,” he begins, your warm mouth envelopes him, “Oh fuck yeah, I deserve love, your love. I’m worthy of being seen and appreciated. I’m enough.” 

Your hand pumps up and down under your mouth, strings of saliva drip onto his balls. 

“Oh fuck yes, I’m so fucking worthy,” his words like a floodgate as you work him. “I’m loved, I’m deserving, I’m your good boy, I deserve your love and my cumming, Oh god i’m so worthy and you love me just as I’m enough, I’m enough I’m so fucking enough. Oh god it’s so good. I love you, I love me, I’m gonna cum so fucking hard,” 

His hips buck up into your throat. A desperate guttural moan escapes his chest and he spills, thick and hot over your tongue.

You gulp and swallow every drop. 

“Keep it up,” you say, your double meaning all too clear as you straddle his hips and sink your dripping pussy over his throbbing cock. 

“Oh fuck,” his eyes roll back. 

You pull at his hand, pressing his thumb against your clit. 

“Say it,” you insist as you start to ride him. 

“I’m - I’m enough, I’m worthy” he chokes out each affirmation between gasps of over-stimmed pleasure. 

You grind into him, chasing your orgasm.

“I deserve you, your love ohgodohgodohgod I love you, to be fucked like this, pleasured like this, I am worthy, I  am loved, I am enough,”  his words are mantras, letting his stream of consciousness flow.

“Yes you fucking are,” you moan as you ride, “You glorious, magnificent man.” 

“I am worthy, I am loved, I am enough,” he says through gritted teeth. “Worthy, loved, enough, worthy, loved, enough. Oh god I’m gonna cum again.” 

Your movements become frantic as you force yourself into the abyss, dragging him with you.

Your hips tuck, your back rounds. His ass raises you, forcing himself deep inside. His words turn into a convulsing mishmash of hard G’s and open vowel sounds. The soundtrack to your own orgasm.  Your pussy floods with both your own release and  the cum his body is tensing to deliver. You lift and thrust and jerk in mind-wiping pleasure. His hands grip you, pleading for the stillness he can’t voice right now. 

Finally, you collapse, sweaty and spent, on top of his heaving chest.  His arms lock on to you as you both recover breath and sanity.

“Say,” he swallows, “say it again, please?”

You nuzzle his cheek with your own. “You are more than enough just as you are. You are an amazing human, Austin. Your sensitivity is your superpower. You are worthy of my love, of your own love. You deserve pleasure and joy.” You cup his face, staring into his ocean eyes. “I love you so much and nothing will ever change that.” 

His eyes well up with tears, emotion threatening to overwhelm him yet again. “I love you too. You are magic.”  He holds you close, the weight he walked in with happily lifted.

[lululandd]

── 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 [ I.] 

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

word count: 588

warnings: angst, hurt no comfort, reader’s pov

note: posted this under a side account thinking i can manage two accounts but im a lazy fuck so that shit is gone and im reposting it here

summary: the first thing you noticed was his smiles never reached his eyes anymore. 

You love the smile wrinkles he has on the corners of his eyes, and would do just anything to make them appear. Memorising puns, laughing at his jokes, and at the end of the day he sometimes would smile at you even when you two did absolutely nothing. Simon would just stare at you, and when you finally noticed, he would smile.

But suddenly your usual routine had changed, now it was always you that smiled at him first, trying to coax it out of him, to no avail. He would smile at you but it seemed distant somehow, brief and insincere. This all happened since he came home from deployment, after he had told you his superior had granted him a couple months off. His work is taxing, and you know it takes a toll on him, but he had never been distant this long. You deduced that something must have happened at work. The work he never wants to talk about. The mysterious work that he always kept hidden from you. You try to live normally, act as if nothing happened, and try to comfort him as best you can, without success.

The second was that he hasn’t been coming back to bed. You would start the night together, and in the morning you’d find the bed cold. Simon has his share of nightmares, but he always comes back to bed. To you. It has become increasingly concerning as you would wake up alone. You miss him bringing tea for you in bed.

Another thing you noticed was his temper. You would get short answers, in clipped tones, no matter what you try to say to him, so in the end you say nothing. The silence was unbearable, he would sometimes just leave in the middle of the day and come back the next morning.

You thought he had found someone else, but you don’t dare bring it up.

Looking into his eyes, you don't recognise the man behind those razor-sharp stares of his. There used to be warmth and kindness in them, a protectiveness in his gaze, a look that made you recognise him in an instant even when he’s wearing a mask to cover the lower half of his face. Now you can’t even find him in a grocery store even when he has his whole face uncovered. You don’t know how he does it. Simon is a towering mass of muscle but he seems to blend easily with his surroundings, and you had trouble finding him even though he was in front of you.

He came to confront you when you started to fall asleep on the sofa more often.

“Not enough for you anymore, aren’t I?” 

“What?”

He didn’t even bother to sit down, just stood there as you as you sat comfortably in a bundle of blankets. 

“You don’t even come to bed anymore.” His voice is quiet, but you hear the acid bite underneath.

“You don’t even stay in bed Simon.” There's newfound bravery in your voice, founded in anger, but an exhausted attempt at one.

“I always wake up earlier than you.”

You roll your eyes. You can see him clenching and unclenching his gloved fist. There's a flash of fear he’s just looking to escalate this to just for a reason to kill you. “Yes. But you don’t stay. You don’t even make me tea anymore, Simon.” The words came out of your mouth faster than you can process it, “Why don’t we just take a break from each other?”

( ghost's pov )

[rwby-imagines-and-headcanons]

RWBY Love Languages (Part 1)

Ruby Rose - Physical Touch

Ruby has multiple ways of showing affection, but her favorite is definitely touch. Pouncing on you is her go to, unfortunately leading to you both falling. When you're together she is always touching you in some way. Although she can be hyper, after a long day, nothing feels better than gently melting into your arms (Also she is not adverse to PDA, so expect tons of hand holding and public kisses)

Weiss Schnee - Quality Time

It is well known that Weiss' family is not the most healthy, and it shows in her. As much as she is initially adverse to (but truly desires) affection in any way, quality time is the most important thing to her. The simple fact of you willingly choosing to spend time with her and stay by her side, despite everything, makes her emotional. Going on dates is her favorite thing in the world. Whether it's a candlelit dinner, balcony seats at an opera, or just a walk in the park, if it's with you she will do anything

Blake Belladonna - Quality Time

Blake has a lot of trust issues due to constant hurt and betrayal, so it will take a LOT for her to open up to you. But the way into her heart is just to stick it out and never give up. Eventually Blake will understand your intentions and let you in. Although it seems like you're always the one to initiate, secretly Blake always finds a way to "coincidentally" end up at the same place at the same time as you. Kinda like how cats pretend to not care but always follow you around

Yang Xiao Long - Quality Time

Yang has been abandoned multiple times, and it has taken a toll on her mentally. She is constantly worrying about when her loved ones will leave her, and that includes you. Spending time with her as much as possible will both quell her anxiety and make her heart race. As someone who knows how it feels to be abandoned, Yang wants to make sure you never feel that pain. She will never leave without letting you know, always promises to come back

Oscar Pine - Words of Affirmation

Due to his situation with Ozpin, Oscar has a lot of self doubt issues and problems with identity. His mind is always racing and it's never good thoughts. So having a partner that reassures him and comforts him is key. He appreciates every word you tell him, and sometimes writes them down in a notebook for when he gets really down

Penny Polendina - Physical Touch

Penny is still getting used to human interactions and relationships, so things may get a bit awkward. But although she struggles with most aspects, she excels in physical touch. Penny loves to feel your skin no matter the texture. It feels so unique to her! When she can't properly express herself or is lost for words, Penny will just quietly hold your hands and stare into your eyes

Jaune Arc - Words of Affirmation/Acts of Service

Jaune has been through a lot of pain the past few years, and needs a lot of healing mentally. Telling him you love him or complimenting him matter a whole lot to him. It boosts his self-esteem and makes him feel wanted and special. While he also returns the sentiment, Jaune prefers to do acts of service for his partner. He will happily give you a massage or do your laundry without prompt. And when it comes to defending you, Jaune is always on the front lines ready to die for you

Nora Valkyrie - Physical Touch

Nora is like Ruby, but amplified by x1000. She loves to cling to you like a koala and tease you. Although she has appreciation for chests, Nora is a butt fiend. She does not hesitate to slip in a slap or squeeze whenever she can, giving you a shit eating grin when you react. Nora also enjoys hugs a lot, and basically every hug she gives is a bone crushing bear hug (so get used to back pains). Sometimes though, when it's late and night and you both are tired, Nora will happily lean on your shoulder and fall asleep. A further way to make her melt is to gently trace your fingers along her Lichtenberg scars

Pyrrha Nikos - Words of Affirmation

Being such a well known figure, Pyrrha has problems making real connections with people. She always feels like people are trying to take advantage of her, but doesn't have the heart to object. But when it comes to you, whenever you compliment her or reassure her feelings, she knows it's genuine. Every word you speak fills her with warmth. And Pyrrha is always making sure to return the love and always talk to you and listen intently. This often leads to you two getting into compliment battles that always end in a stalemate

Lie Ren - Acts of Service

Being more introverted, Ren is kinda hot and cold with affection. He loves you with all his heart, but sometimes he just needs time alone, and you're happy to oblige! But when he's fully charged, Ren loves to do things for you. This mainly pertains to domestic skills like cooking and cleaning. He always makes sure to make you a delicious breakfast everyday with your favorite foods. And he does this with no expectation of reciprocation. He does this with all his loved ones, it's how he shows he cares. A lot of times he does it behind the scenes. Sometimes you'll come home to the trash taken out, your bed made, or a hole in your shirt sewn up in a heart shape (his favorite thing to do is leave cute love notes in your lunch bag)

Sun Wukong - Acts of Service

Sun is a himbo through and through, we all know this. He is incredibly open about his feelings and isn't afraid to show you how much he loves you. Doing things for you is his favorite thing to do to show his appreciation. No matter what it is, if you are looking for something Sun already has it. Car keys? Phone charger? Hot pocket? This man is READY. He tries to do other things like cook and clean for you, but uh... he ain't that good at it. He has definitely broken some lamps and started a couple kitchen fires. But Sun always means well and will happily do whatever he can to make you smile

Neptune Vasilias - Physical Touch

Although Neptune is known as a smooth talker, that's mainly for show with girls he meets for the first time. After actually getting into a relationship Neptune's true love language comes out. He really thrives on physical contact. It's great in general, but whenever he is anxious or scared it's even better. Neptune will instantly cling onto you and feel much better. But he is also known for being a bit possessive. Neptune is known for holding you by the hip when you walk, and proudly drapes his arm around your shoulders. He bagged a total masterpiece of a human, of course he's gonna show you off! PDA is a must and he always gives you little kisses throughout the day

Coco Adel - Gift Giving

As your local fashionista, Coco adores the finer things in life. And she feels like you deserve it all! She loves to gift you designer clothes, authentic jewelry, $1000 lobster dishes, fuck she once tried to buy you a puppy! It's gotten to the point where you have a whole room dedicated to her gifts. If you tell her to cool down a little she will, but will eventually get back into it. She doesn't understand why materialism is so looked down upon. Why shouldn't she and her partner enjoy expensive things?

Fox Alistair - Physical Touch

Despite his serious appearance, Fox is naturally very talkative (just ask his team) and always likes to joke and tease. And it's the same deal with his partner. Sometimes he kinda can't shut up. And although he tells you how much he a loves you a lot, the real way to show how he feels is touch. Fox is blind, and although he has an ADA device, he doesn't know how you look 100%. So he likes to just touch you all over, enjoying feeling your curves and edges and rolls. He likes it so much sometimes he will hold your face in his hands and just caress your cheeks for like 10 minutes

Velvet Scarlatina - Gift Giving

Velvet is naturally a bit more shy than the rest of her team, so when it comes to showing affection she gets very flustered. She isn't good with PDA and sometimes finds it hard to say what she feels. But Velvet is well versed in gift giving. She always pays attention to everything her partner says and makes note of all the things they desire. Pretty much all her gifts are perfectly tailored to you. She adores holidays and milestones, and always makes those days a whole ordeal with presents and date plans

Yatsuhashi Daichi - Acts of Service

Yatsuhashi is a very reserved person, and is not talkative, even with his loved ones. It's a mix of holding in his emotions and having self doubt about himself. So instead of saying what he feels, he prefers to use his actions instead. Yatsuhashi is very protective of his partner and does everything in his power to make them feel secure. He sees you as precious and never wants anything to happen to you. So he gladly does anything he deems too dangerous for you. Reaching things from high shelves, walking you across the street, this man would fight a damn bear for you. He isn't above just carrying you around either. You will always be safe and secure around Yatsuhashi

Neon Katt - Words of Affirmation

Jesus fucking CHRIST can she talk. You will never have a moment of peace while dating Neon, that's the unfortunate truth. But hey, that's what you signed up for. And it has it's perks! Neon never hesitates to gush about you and make you feel appreciated. She has definitely bragged about you in public, much to your embarrassment. She's just loves everything about you! (especially how hot you are) But don't be mistaken, everything you do is met with pure joy and admiration

Flynt Coal - Gift Giving

Flynt is a simple, suave man who knows he's smooth. He knows his voice makes you melt. But what he loves to do is give presents, especially unconventional ones. There are the standard flowers and chocolates, but Flynt really loves writing songs for you. Being able to express himself through music makes him feel whole. He puts all of his emotions into the sheet music, and every song is dedicated to you

----------

Ozpin - Quality Time

As the headmaster of Beacon, Ozpin doesn't have a lot of spare time. He's often busy and tied up in work. But also, his past as Ozma has made him live hundreds of years, and he's lost a lot of loved ones. He treasures time spent and wants to spend as much time as possible with the ones he loves. Whenever he is able, Ozpin will be with you as much as possible. Even if you are just existing in the same room, it's perfect for him

Glynda Goodwitch - Acts of Service

Glynda can be pretty abrasive, and a bit of a hard ass. But it really is from the toll of years at an academy of psychotic students. So honestly? Getting her a hot cup of tea or her favorite book when she comes home from work is one of life's greatest joys. Always being expected to fix any damage caused by her students, it's nice to have someone return the favor and give her a break. She'll always encourage you to sit down and join her, but definitely isn't complaining. To show appreciation she doesn't mind fixing stuff around the house in return, as it isn't expected of her. Now she can do it of her own will because she wants to. Keep pampering her and you will never have to call a handyman ever again

Bartholomew Oobleck - Words of Affirmation

You know how I said Neon can't stop talking? Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Oobleck is amazing, but he won't stop talking no matter what. Info dumping is one of his favorite things to do with you, especially if it has to do with interesting facts. He may be a motor mouth, but when he isn't spouting information, he is talking about you. Oobleck may seemed a bit scatterbrained, but he notices everything about you. He compliments you on the smallest things, often things you never notice. Oobleck likes everything about you and isn't afraid to let you know. He doesn't really have a filter when it comes to your relationship, so expect a lot of out of left field compliments

Peter Port - Acts of Service

This man is a MANLY MAN, and you will NOT FORGET THAT! He wants to prove to you that he is capable and worthy of your love, and he does that by doing things for you (whether you ask for it or not). He especially loves doing heavy work for you like moving furniture, chopping wood, and hauling away any Grimm that interupt your dates. Don't get it twisted though, it isn't that he thinks you are unable to take care of yourself or weak. He just naturally likes to show off and prove himself. And with you? Bruh he is always flexing to get your attention and make you blush (frankly though you tend to make him blush way more)

James Ironwood - Quality Time

Similar to Ozpin, Ironwood doesn't get a lot of free time to himself. Being a major general is hard work and tends to leave him drained. He knows he isn't around often and feels bad. So to make up for it, when you do have time together, he is 100% focused on you and you only. Ironwood wants you to know that he never forgets you when he's working. You're always in his mind 24/7. Sometimes when he has to stay super late, you like to surprise him by showing up at his office. His heart instantly starts beating faster, and he will wave you over for a long hug (and sit you on his lap if he's feeling super affectionate)

Winter Schnee - Acts of Service

As with Weiss, Winter has been severely damaged by her family. And her time in the military has only made more walls around her heart. Hell, it took forever for her to come to terms with her feelings for you. Winter is not good at expressing herself directly, so she likes to indirectly show her love by doing things for you. Anything you ask of her she will do with no hesitation. It's kind of her military training kicking in, it's pretty much ingrained into her. But it definitely isn't cause she feels obligated to, Winter cares about you and wants you to follow your "orders". She often denies it whenever you offer to do things for her. But if you do it anyways, she'll scold you... before giving you an awkward kiss and hug

Summer Rose - Quality Time

Summer is known to go off on her own quite a bit. She doesn't often explain why, but always makes sure to let you know she is coming back. And when she comes back she is spending the rest of the day with you. She loves to just sit around with you and talk about anything and everything. When she isn't going on missions, Summer tends to follow you around happily

Taiyang Xiao Long - Words of Affirmation

Taiyang has been through some heartbreak, so some uplifting words mean a lot to him. No matter what issues he is faced with, a good conversation with you will always lift his spirits. And this applies to even just casual small talk. He just likes talking to you, I mean it's as simple as that! And he always knows how to repay your kindness by being your number one fan. No matter what you're doing, Yaiyang is cheering you on from the sidelines!

Raven Branwen - Acts of Service

Raven is kinda... yeah. There are a lot of words to describe her, and most are negative. But one thing she excels at is using her actions. She may seem to not be around often, but usually she is behind the scenes doing small things for you. Raven uses her portals to keep an eye on you wherever you go, and makes sure you are safe and healthy. She keeps away any shady people, leaves you your favorite foods on your nightstand, kills any threatening Grimm, even adjusts your blanket while you sleep. It may seem like she doesn't care much for you, but whenever you notice your weapon polished, you know she does

Qrow Branwen - Physical Touch

Qrow is starved for attention in multiple ways, but mostly in physical touch. He was originally very flirtatious, but after all the shit he's gone through, he is definitely more subdued and anxious. While dating him, you can often find him questioning if he deserves you, and whether you will get hurt by his semblance. Words have a hard time getting to him, so the best way to calm him is to just... touch him. Hold him, stroke his face, play with his hair, cuddle him, anything. All of his worries wash away as he melts into your touch, and he becomes the most vulnerable man in the world. And whenever you seem down or upset, he instantly pulls you into a hug and rubs your back. Just... just hold this man okay? He deserves the world and all the kisses

----------

Well hello, here is my first post on this blog! I thought a good place to start would be Love Languages. A part 2 is coming out featuring allies (like the ace ops) and antagonists!

[colection-of-chaos]

Whumptober 2024 Day 26: Breakfast Table

TW: major depressive episode, spiraling, self h@rm, self neglect,

Why didn’t you tell anyone?

It took until the next morning when he came down to the breakfast table for someone to ask. 

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” He has a few answers for that question, non are going to save him a conversation full of worry.

He hadn’t been able to get out of bed for over two weeks. No, that wasn’t quite right, he got up to go to the toilet and to eat every other day. But not much else, his hygiene was more than lacking, and he had felt like he was droning on the air around him as if it was water. He should have gotten help.

No matter how good he was at denying his state of mind, the fact that it wasn’t normal to been in distress all the time, to be exhausted to such an existential level that he wasn’t even able to want anything, beyond the pain just becoming more bearable This wasn’t something he could ignore any longer.

He didn’t ask, though, didn’t call someone to come and at least bring him some groceries. He certainly didn’t tell anyone, how much he suffered. 

This hadn’t been about him. What if he just was dramatic? He was probably able to move he had just not enough will to, that was his shortcoming. 

What should he say? 

It wasn’t like it actually warranted anything more, than him getting his shit together and finally move. 

It was all his fault. He didn’t need help, he would get himself out of it by himself. He just needed to rest a little bit more, he just needed to get though the next choking hour, and the one after that.

It hadn’t been anything to bother someone else with. 

He didn’t want to trouble others.

What if they thought of it as much of a problem, as it was? 

What if they saw him in this state, and only were disgusted? 

What if they didn’t want to have to deal with his problems?

What if they left? If they decided he wasn’t worth having in their lives? 

What if they would look down on him for his weakness?

What then? 

What would he do?

He needed other people. People he could call and act as if everything was fine with, so he could continue telling himself that it actually was.

People that he could talk with, about everything except his problems, so that, just for a movement, he felt freed. 

People that at last acted like they liked him, so he could act like there was something to like about him.

He didn’t want to lose that.

So he hadn’t called, hadn’t tolled them how bad it actually was, sometimes even pretended he was just ill.

He had done so until yesterday, when a handful of them showed up on his door step, saw him like he was and didn’t leave, didn’t let him pretend he was fine.

They noticed he wasn’t, and they forced him to let them help.

Got him to pack some things and move to one of them, just for a while, utill he was more stable, until he was able to take care of himself again, enough for them to let him go back without having to worry.

So he had. He had given in to their demands, parts relive, that someone did help him, that some people actually cared, parts terrified, that they knew, that soon he would be nothing but a liability, that this help would be short-lived.

They had let him go back to bed, this time in the guest room of one of them, for the day. 

This morning tough, one of them had woken him up, talked him into getting up, taking a shower hand come to eat breakfast, with the promise to leave him alone after, at least for a while.

So now he was here, sitting at the breakfast table, with no idea how to answer the question he had just been asked.

He couldn’t tell them the truth, they would be insulated, or maybe tell him that he was wrong. And he couldn’t stand hearing that from someone else, he told him self that often enough over the past weeks. 

He just couldn’t.

[funnylittlelad]

Rules Made To Be Broken - Steve Harrington x gn!reader

Masterlist - AO3

<< Rule One | Rule Three >>

summary: As you and Steve grow closer, things seem to be going perfectly. That is until your police chief father steps in. The more you lie the deeper a hole you dig, but what else can you do? No matter what your dad says, you're not staying away from Steve Harrington.

wordcount: 6k

notes/tags: Hopper!reader, secret dating, sneaking around, fluff, friends to lovers, events of season three do not take place (canon divergent), Hopper is a bit of an (redeemable) overprotective helicopter parent, mentions of/talks about: abusive parents, Steve's father is his own warning, Good Brother Jonathan (tm), tumultuous relationships, divorce, death, and family trauma.

Rule Two: No Going To Steve's When His Parents Are Home

You’re doing this for Steve. That's what you tell yourself every time your anxiety starts getting the better of you. This is for Steve. Steve won't let anything bad happen to you. It’ll be when movie night usually is. As far as your dad and Joyce are concerned, it's still just movie night. It's not you meeting your boyfriend of a couple of months’ parents. 

Steve explained to you that they want to meet less because you're dating and more to make sure you're real. They want Steve to prove he isn't lying to get them off his back. You can do that. You can sit there and act as evidence, nothing more. The part of you that comes from your dad barks a laugh in the back of your head. Yeah, right! Good luck keeping your mouth shut! it cackles. 

The lying is beginning to take its toll on you. You're losing sleep because of the guilt. It feels like something's changed with us. You don't come to me anymore. Your dad’s words reverberate in your bones. One night you lay in bed holding back a sob that burns the backs of your eyes. You lay there and you wish you could go to your dad about this. You wish you could tell him how nervous you are to meet your boyfriend’s parents, maybe even get a hug from him. How could you, though? Every day it feels more and more like you won't be able to have both your dad and Steve. It terrifies you. 

“Okay, you look awful,” Jonathan sighs one night from his bed.

“Gee, thanks,” you deadpan from your own bed.

“I mean it. This clearly isn't good for you. Maybe your dad was right,” he shrugs.

“My dad couldn't be more wrong about Steve, actually. Don't act like you don't know that,” you bite.

“All I know is Steve was a dick for a lot longer than he hasn't been,” Jonathan snaps.

“No offense, Jonathan, but everyone’s a dick to you.”

It’s a low blow and you know it. You're aware of the shit he gets in the halls of Hawkins High.

“Whatever, I don't know why I said anything,” he grumbles.

“Yeah, me neither.”

Jonathan keeps his mouth shut after that. A small bit of guilt bubbles up but is quickly swallowed by the hungry guilt monster. He’s only trying to help, you scold yourself. 

The following day Steve helps you look at a few cars after work just a bit out of Hawkins. Your dad is on duty. He was less than enthusiastic when he heard Steve could help, but it isn't against any of his rules. Steve brings your laced fingers up to his mouth so he can brush his lips over your knuckles as he drives. 

“Does this mean soon you won't need me to drive you around anymore?” He pouts.

“Just cause I won't need it doesn't mean I won't want it,” you say.

“Good, 'cause I like being able to feel you’re there,” he smiles and squeezes your hand a bit.

You smile dopily at him. So much affection washes over you as you watch him. The afternoon sun hugs every one of his features adoringly. It's as if the sun exists only to allow you to view his face. 

“Do you want to hang out when we’re done? Like at my place?” You ask nervously.

“Are you sure? Doesn't your dad need to be home?” He spares a glance at you as he drives.

“He will be by the time we’re done. I dunno, I was thinking maybe if he gets used to you being around he won't be as upset when I tell him about us,” you shrug.

“You’re going to tell him about us?” Steve breathes.

Whether it's out of shock or fear you're unsure.

“I mean, eventually, yeah.”

Steve nods thoughtfully.

“It's worth a shot,” he decides.

You smile at the thought that you could desensitize your dad to Steve. Perhaps you could even prove to him that Steve is nothing like his father and never will be. Steve presses another kiss absentmindedly to the back of your hand as the thought crosses your mind. Yeah, there's not one glimmer of John Harrington in Steve, that you can be sure of. 

The first two cars you look at are duds. The third grabs your heart immediately. It’s a little rust-brown thing, not much, but at the same time, it's everything. You agree on a date and time to come back for a second look. Then you're on your way back to Hawkins. It’s such a nice day out with Steve not having to worry. Until a storm cloud catches up with you.

As the Welcome to Hawkins! sign flits by, lights begin to flash behind you. Red and blue.

“What the hell? I didn't do anything,” Steve mutters.

“He’s not pulling over you. He’s pulling over me,” you sigh with a roll of your eyes. 

Steve pulls over, the chief's truck pulling up behind him. With one final squeeze, you let go of each other’s hands. Your dad stalks up to the driver’s side window and Steve cranks it down. Your dad leans with a forearm on the door to peer in the car.

“Were the lights really necessary? We’ll see each other at home in like fifteen minutes,” you say.

“How’d the car shopping go?” He asks.

“It was good. We’re going back to look at one of them next week,” you answer.

He nods. Then his eyes move to Steve. He takes a moment to measure him up. 

“How’s your mom?” He asks him.

Steve looks startled to be spoken to at all.

“Oh- uh- good, she’s good,” Steve stutters.

Your dad nods. 

“And your dad?” 

“Same as always,” Steve smiles tightly.

“Dad,” you interject, “We’ll see you at home.”

“We will?” He questions.

“Yeah, Steve is gonna hang out for a little bit since you’ll be home,” you tell him.

His eyes flit between the two of you for a moment.

“See you at home,” he says but his eyes stay on Steve. 

Steve smiles and nods before carefully pulling away. The chief’s truck stays behind you the entire time. Every time Steve’s eyes flicker to the rearview your face warms.

“I’m sorry about him,” you say. 

“Hey,” Steve grabs your hand, “I knew what I was signing up for.”

“Did you?” You question insecurely.

“Yes, I did,” he states firmly.

A small smile finds its way to your face. 

“He’s always been like this, y’know. It’s just never really mattered before,” you tell him.

“Does that mean it matters now?” He smirks.

“Yeah, dingus,” you laugh, “I actually like you and I’d like for you to stick around a while.”

“You haven't been in any serious relationships then?” He inquires, failing at casual.

“I've had some semi-serious things, but,” you shrug, “I always knew my dad would become too much eventually so I never really let myself get too attached.”

“Until now,” he raises his eyebrows at you as he parks in the driveway.

“Until now,” you confirm with a small smile, “I’ve never felt so much so fast before.”

“Me too,” Steve says with a scrunched-up face.

You laugh as your dad exits the truck, lighting a cigarette. You sigh watching him stroll to the porch.

“Okay, we should go in,” you decide.

Steve nods and follows your lead. The two of you pass by your dad to enter the house. You give him a playful punch as you go by. Steve gives him a respectful nod and smiles. When you walk in, Will and El light up at the sight of Steve.

“Nuh-uh,” you shake your head and grab Steve’s arm before he can be sucked in by the munchkins, “He’s here for me not you. You guys will see him at Scoops tomorrow, I’m sure.”

They pout dramatically at you but don't argue. 

“Hey, maybe now that you’re supervisor we’ll visit you at work more,” Will teases.

The kids always insist that the arcade by Family Video is better. You can't argue too much. Yours is a lot smaller with a smaller selection. They seem to think your new position equals free video games, though. The news leaving Will’s mouth makes you cringe. 

“You got the promotion?” Steve asks with wide eyes.

Your cringe turns into a half smile as you look at him.

“Surprise?” You say, your voice pitched slightly higher.

Steve lifts you up by the waist and spins you around with a wide smile. You fall into laughter as you grab his shoulders.

“Congratulations!” He cheers.

There’s the creaaak thud of the front door falling shut. In a second, you’re on the ground. You and Steve stand at least a foot apart. Your dad stands in the doorway with a slight frown. 

“What's the celebration?” He asks as he toes off his boots. 

“I got the promotion to supervisor,” you tell him.

“Congrats,” he nods with a small smile.

You smile back. 

“Okay, we’re going to hang out in my room. There's a new album I wanted to show Steve,” you tell him and gesture down the hall.

“Door stays open,” he states.

You pause and furrow your brows.

“What?”

“Your door. It stays open.”

“Dad, that’s ridiculous. I’m nineteen years old. I’m going to close my bedroom door if I want to,” you state.

“My roof,” he says.

“No,” you huff, “I’m drawing a line here. I put up with you being crazy every other time. Jonathan closes the door when Nancy is over! Steve is my friend . Come on, Steve.”

Steve avoids your dad’s hard gaze and follows you down the hall. You slam the door after he enters for good measure. He sits on your bed as you fume and pace, mumbling angrily to yourself. Eventually, Steve reaches out and catches your wrist as you go by. He tugs you over to him until you’re settled between his knees. He smiles up at you sweetly.

“How’re you feeling, baby?” he asks gently.

Heat floods your face at the pet name. 

“M’fine. He’s just so frustrating,” you grumble. 

A chuckle tumbles from Steve’s lips. Your brows furrow at him in question.

“You look just like him right now with that face,” he says.

You groan and cover your face with your hands. Steve grabs your wrists and pulls your hands away from your face. You give a dramatic frown.

“Now you look even more like him,” Steve laughs.

You roll your eyes with a smile you can’t fight off. With a playful slap to his chest, you escape Steve’s hold. You pop your favorite tape in your stereo and hit play. It’s Fleetwood Mac’s self-titled album, which tends to surprise people. People usually expect you to have a taste more similar to Jonathan’s. Your clothes aren’t always terribly far off from each other. Hell, you'll admit you've stolen a few items from his side of the room. You turn the music up so it’s loud enough to cover your voice, but not too loud that you can’t talk at all. When you reach your bed again you let yourself fall back into the space next to Steve. 

“Once I finally have a car, the next thing I’m saving up for is an apartment,” you sigh.

“Well, now that you run the place,” Steve smiles down at you, “that won't be too hard.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’m a supervisor , not the owner or anything,” you chuckle.

“Ah, soon enough they’ll just hand over the keys,” he waves you off playfully.

You roll your eyes. In a swift motion, you yank his arm so he falls over you. He braces himself on his forearm. You catch his face in your hands and bring him in for a kiss. The unusual feeling of his lips causes you to pull back suddenly.

“Are you wearing lip gloss?” You ask him with a smirk as you pull away, lips stickier than before.

“No, it’s chapstick,” he says defensively.

“Stevie, it’s sticky and cherry flavored. No way you’re convincing me this is chapstick,” you snort.

His cheeks are absolutely glowing red. 

“There’s cherry-flavored chapstick!” He argues.

“Yeah, at the store, not on your lips,” you tease.

“Alright,” he falls onto his back, “I didn’t think you’d notice. I thought it was chapstick when I grabbed it.”

You laugh which earns a bright smile from Steve. The thin green crown around Steve’s pupil reminds you of his father. What will your dad think when he finds out John Harrington knew about your relationship before he did? You chew on your lip as you wonder. Steve takes hold of your chin in the crook of his hand and uses his thumb to tug your lip from its prison.

“Are you sure your dad won’t care that it’s me you’re dating?” You ask quietly.

“The only thing he’ll care about is that he didn’t pick you out for me,” he answers.

“They really don’t care about what you want at all?” You frown already knowing the answer.

“No, I’m here to make them look good,” he smiles wryly.

“Is there anything I should know going in?”

Steve takes an even breath in through his nose as he considers it.

“My mom will be easy. She isn’t present enough to really grasp what’s going on most of the time anyway. She’s nice, though,” he explains slowly as his brain continues to churn through thoughts, “My dad will be a dick to me on purpose. He’s going to try to embarrass me, drive you away to prove you were only after money. I guess just… prove him wrong.”

You lean over and give him a tender kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll prove him so wrong he’s the one that’ll end up embarrassed,” you promise.

Steve grows a brilliant smile.

“I know you will.”

When Joyce gets home around an hour later she’s elated to find Steve there. She insists he stays for dinner. Even when both you and your dad start to protest. Now that there's a dining table big enough to fit the army of kids that are over here every other day, there's no warding her off from insisting people stay to eat. It’s worse than you imagined. Steve is sitting next to you and across from Will. Jonathan and El sit on either side of the younger Byers. Your dad and Joyce are at either end of the table. Your dad’s stern stare is mostly on Steve. You wish you could hold his hand to ease his anxiety.

“So, what’s the car you’re thinking about?” Your dad asks, finally breaking the awkward silence.

“It’s a ‘77 Rabbit. Bit dinged up, but I like it,” you answer pleasantly.

“Volkswagen,” your dad comments as he rubs his chin.

“Yeah,” you say slowly, pleasant mood waning.

The table holds its breath.

“Those things are known for overheating.”

You roll your eyes, proud they stay in your head.

“I know,” you gesture next to you with your thumb, “Steve already told me.”

Steve offers a nervous smile.

“It’s in really good shape, well taken care of, and I know what to look for in a test drive,” he backs you up. 

Your dad stabs his food with his fork and nods. There’s something a little different in his eyes when he looks at Steve. You can almost believe he's lowered the threat level on Steve by at least one. 

“Where’d you learn about cars?” Your dad asks him.

He knows Steve's dad didn't teach him a thing other than anger and violence.

“Magazines, mostly. Friends in school. Books,” Steve shrugs.

“Books?” Jonathan snorts not so subtly.

With flared nostrils, you kick his shin beneath the table. He hisses in pain and shoots a glare at you. You shoot one back. Joyce quietly scolds Jonathan. Your dad is busy rolling his eyes while Will and El snicker. When you look back, Steve is watching you with a tender smile that you’re sure is far too obvious. You’re a little too enamored by it to care. Quickly, you compose yourself and look down at your plate as casually as possible. 

“Careful where you point that thing,” you whisper and tap the corner of your own smile. 

A small laugh bursts from Steve drawing attention. The tips of his ears go ruby.

“What’s so funny?” Your dad questions.

“Nothing, it was an inside joke,” you shake your head. 

Your dad starts talking to Jonathan about college. Jonathan starts halfheartedly going on about Emerson. You let yourself get stuck on Steve for a moment. A hint of a smile appears on your lips as you observe him interact with Will and El so easily. It's like he’s another older brother. The distraction means you miss Joyce bearing witness to the entire lovesick scene. Pieces click together for her then and her heart cracks. She glances at your dad with a small frown. 

Her eyes slide back to you. They find Steve’s attention is back on you. It’s never gone from you for long, that's another thing she noticed tonight. She isn't sure how aware of each other’s feelings you are, but she knows one thing for sure. Your dad is preventing you from really trying with Steve. He's standing between you and something that could be good for you, that could make you happy.

Joyce knows his bias against Steve is unfair and rooted mostly in his feelings for Steve's father. Well, half in his feelings for Steve’s father and half in his fear of losing you. Something he can already feel happening, causing him to grip tighter. She sighs as she makes a decision. She has to knock some sense into your dad. She fears if she doesn't you’ll end up resenting him and he’ll really lose you. 

“You guys doing that movie night this week?” Your dad asks as dinner wraps up.

“Yup, every Friday,” you answer, collecting your and Steve’s empty plates. 

“Parents aren't home?” 

Your eyes narrow slightly and dart to him. Something about the way he asks causes the hairs on the back of your neck to stand in warning. He’s asking because he already knows the answer. He’s fishing for a lie. Steve’s mouth opens in the face of your hesitation. You know he’s posed to lie, posed to try to save you only to unknowingly damn you.

“They are,” you answer quickly, startling him, “but they’ll be gone before we get there.”

Your dad nods slowly, eyes bouncing between the two of you.

“We’re absolutely positive?” He presses. 

Guilt claws its way up your throat. Once again, you think about how John Harrington is going to know about your relationship before your own father. You open your mouth to snap about him being rude but don't get the chance.

“We’re absolutely positive,” Steve answers evenly.

Your dad settles a thoughtful stare onto Steve. After a moment he just nods and looks at you again. As the guilt monster grows even more, you expect it to take the shape of something horrid. A Demogorgon, perhaps. It doesn't. Your dad gives you a small smile as a peace offering. The guilt monster peaks around his chair with a familiar sly smile and blonde pigtails. The image of your little sister dries your throat. You’ll be lucky if sleep comes at all tonight. 

Joyce catches you before you can head to Robin’s. You have clothes stashed there to change into. This way your outfit doesn't tip anyone off. You’re just finishing lacing up your shoes when she knocks on the open door. She stands in the doorway with a small smile and her hands clasped in front of her.

���Do you have a minute before you go?” She asks.

You nod and she enters. You sit up straighter when she closes the door behind her.

“What’s up?” You question.

“It’s about Steve-”

“If my dad put you up to this-”

“He didn't. I’m here about him, actually. I know he has certain opinions and concerns, but… I’m not blind. You two clearly like each other. I think Steve is a good kid and you two deserve a chance,” she tells you calmly. 

Your heart begins to race. 

“Wh- what are you saying?”

“I’m going to talk to your dad. I just wanted you to know why he feels so strongly,” she sighs.

You pat the spot next to you on your bed. She perches herself there. Her eyes are big and sad, something you hate to see. You don't see it often anymore, not since you all started living together. 

“If you’re going to tell me about Steve’s dad, I already know,” you inform her.

“What do you know?”

“Enough,” you shrug, “That he’s controlling and abusive. That Steve couldn't be any more different from him.”

Joyce nods. She glances at the door and then back to you. Something sits heavy on her tongue, you can tell. It drops a pit in your stomach. Maybe you don't want to know.

“Your dad has had to answer more than one call at their house. The Harringtons have always been known for two things in Hawkins. Money and… well, hitting,” she explains evenly, “From what I know, Steve didn't call 911. It was always the neighbors. Now, your dad doesn't blame Steve for that, but he doesn't trust him either.”

Acid burns the back of your throat as tears burn the backs of your eyes. You can't fathom it. You can't imagine sweet, kind, gentle Steve growing up around such violence and chaos. You can't imagine him even considering raising a hand against you. It all only makes you want to get to him quicker, hug him tightly, and promise that you know he won't continue the Harrington legacy. 

“Steve would die before hurting me,” you say shakily, “He’s never- He’d never do anything like that.”

You can feel Joyce’s eyes sit on you. You keep your own on your hands in your lap.

“You two are already together, aren't you?” It’s half a question, half a sigh.

Your eyes fall shut. All you can do is nod. 

“I don't like that you've been lying,” Joyce says, “but I understand why you’ve been lying. I’ll talk to your dad about being easier on Steve. Just know, he may be upset for a little bit when you tell him.”

“Thank you, Joyce,” you smile gratefully at her. 

She grabs your hand and gives it a squeeze. Then she tells you to have fun and lets you go. You say goodbye to your dad and walk to Robins. The only reason you don't run is that you don't want to sweat before going to Steve’s. Joyce’s words rattle around uncomfortably in your head. Your dad doesn't blame Steve for that, but he doesn't trust him either . 

It doesn’t occur to you until you're walking into Robin’s that Joyce was wrong. It’s not that your dad doesn't trust Steve. He doesn't trust you. He doesn't trust you to make your own decisions. He doesn't trust you to take care of yourself. He doesn't trust you to be in a relationship at all. Now, he likely doesn't trust a word from your mouth. For good reason, but your stomach still twists. 

You tell Robin about the conversation with Joyce as you get ready. Her eyes are owlish as you speak. She lays on her bed staring at her ceiling as you change near the closet.

“It's good, though, right? I mean, you have Joyce on your side. She always seems to be able to get him to change his mind,” Robin says. 

“Yeah, I guess,” you sigh, “I just don't feel good about her lying for me too.”

“It's temporary.”

“I know, but… how temporary? I hate this, Rob. I hate lying and sneaking around. I just want to be able to see my boyfriend a-and meet his parents- even if they do suck! He told me I’m acting differently, but I don't know what he wants from me! I can't have a life and be close to him,” you rant, eyes watering by the end.

Robin stands. You’re dressed and sufficiently nervous. It doesn't matter how nice you look, it won't be nice enough. Robin walks up to you and wraps you in a warm comforting hug.

“It’ll all work out, I know it,” she says softly because she doesn't have any other words. 

“I hope so. I know it's soon, but I think I’m falling in love with him, Rob, and I really don't want my dad to hate me for that,” you whisper in reply.

Robin just hugs you tighter. You give her a kiss on the cheek when Steve arrives before bounding out to his beemer. You manage to steal the first kiss this time. There's a moment before pulling out where the two of you take each other in. Steve is in an ironed polo with white and coffee-brown stripes. Jeans hug his legs in the way you love and his white tennis shoes are secure on his feet. He looks so good you want to eat him up.

“You look… wow ,” Steve breathes. 

“Shut up,” you smirk with glowing red cheeks.

Steve grins brightly and pulls out of Robin’s driveway. 

“You look wow too, by the way,” you tell him teasingly.

He chuckles and his hand finds its home on your thigh. Yours finds its own home over his.

“Nervous?” He asks.

“Very,” you admit.

“Nothing my parents think or say will ever change anything. I don't care what they want anymore,” he assures you.

You squeeze his hand.

“I know,” you answer.

This is the first time you’re nervous walking up to Steve’s door. His hand is always on you somewhere, never not touching now that you’re on Harrington grounds. He leads the way in, giving you as much time to prepare as possible. Stepping into the house is like stepping through a portal. It smells different. Clearly from someone cooking, but it isn't anything you’ve smelled Steve cook before. Everything is brighter. You realize more lights are on than usual. Even the sounds are off. There are light voices, but not the ones you’re so familiar with. In the background is subtle jazz music to fill in any empty spaces. It’s so… bizarre . 

Steve’s back straightens, shoulders tensing up. You watch forlornly as your Steve recedes and their Steve comes out. His arm circles you almost protectively as you venture further into the house. Before you face his parents you come to terms with the idea that you’re alone right now. Your Steve is gone at the moment. He had to make room, save face. So, you’ll do your best to get by on your own until he’s back. 

“Mom, Dad,” Steve says as you enter the kitchen. 

He formally introduces the three of you. You manage a nice smile despite your nerves. Up close you can see the frame of Steve’s face on his mother. She’s truly a beautiful woman with a kind smile and sparkling brown eyes. However, something about her eyes is a little off. They don't feel like they're looking quite at you. Steve’s father gifts you a polite smile as he shakes your hand. It takes a moment for it to really click, but when it does you feel a bite of shame in your gut. 

Steve’s parents are dressed nicer than the two of you. You aren't sure they own anything that isn't at least business casual. Your eyes bounce to Steve to really take in the way he matched you in casualness. Did he do that on purpose? 

“How did you two meet?” Steve’s mother asks as you all sit around the table.

“The police station when we were around six and seven,” Steve answers, drawing your surprised gaze, “We- uh- we were both there waiting to be picked up after school. Uncle Phil was watching me that day for whatever reason.”

You recall the day in question. The two of you made pirate hats out of newspapers and turned the station into your ship. It was so brief and so long ago. You can't believe Steve even remembers it. 

“You two have been friends that long?” His father asks with questioning eyebrows.

“No, we really only became friends the last year or so,” you reply, “but it’s just always been kind of natural with us, I guess.”

Steve smiles at you. A crack in his exterior, a glimpse at your Steve. He’s swept away again by his father’s calculating eyes. The smile dies.

“Are you in school with Steve?” His mother asks politely.

Your eyebrows twitch into a furrow, but you quickly catch yourself. 

“Uh- n- no, we-” you start.

“We’ve both graduated, mom. We work at the mall together,” Steve finishes for you.

“You weren't being asked, Steve,” his father chides sharply.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Steve mutters quickly.

“Oh, it’s fine. He usually just says what I would have anyways,” you wave him off casually.

Steve's eyes dart to you in subtle amazement.

“It’s still rude,” his father states with an air of finality. 

“I don't know if Steve has a rude bone in his body,” you chuckle lightly.

“You said you work at the mall together,” his father drawls, “What do you plan to do?”

“Right now I’m just focusing on the promotion I got. I haven't decided on a set career path,” you answer honestly.

“Oh, congratulations,” his mother chirps.

“Thank you,” you make a point to smile at her. 

Steve pours water into your half-empty glass before you can ask. He also retrieves the salt before you can reach for it. Every little thing he does to ease your evening brings a small smile to your face. He’s taking care of you. Even in front of his parents, he’s taking care of you in any way he can.

“Lance from Boston called the other day,” his father comments offhandedly halfway through the meal, “Said they could use help opening up the auxiliary office.”

“Does that mean we’re going to Boston?” His mother asks.

“Actually, I was thinking Steve could go to Boston.”

Both yours and Steve’s faces snap to him. 

“What?” Steve balks.

“I think it would be a good opportunity for you to start climbing the ladder in the company. Don't worry, it isn't too much work,” his father says casually.

You swear your heart has stopped.

“N- no, I’m not doing that,” Steve protests, “I don't want to work for your company. I don't want to go to Boston. I- I like my job right now. I don't want to do it forever, but I can figure that out!”

He’s borderline panicked. You lace your fingers through his under the table. The movement of your arm doesn't slip by his father.

“Right, because you have so much here to worry about,” his father rolls his eyes, “You have to get serious, Steve. Friends and relationships will only get you so far. You really think anyone is going to want to stay with you if you can't bring home a decent paycheck?”

Steve’s mouth opens and snaps shut. His eyebrows furrow insecurely. You tighten your grasp on his hand. 

“I can make money doing something else,” Steve argues weakly.

“Okay, what? If you want to make money another way, fine. But you have to tell me what. You can't keep wasting your time working at the mall,” his father snaps.

“I don't know yet-”

“Then you're going to Boston. End of discussion.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve sighs defeatedly.

It rips you open. You’d like to punch John Harrington in the nose.

“For what it's worth,” you say, grabbing everyone’s attention, “from someone who is here every day, there's a lot in Hawkins for Steve. Actually, I don't think it'd be the same without him. I don't just mean me, either. Although, I’ll admit I’m definitely a big part of it.”

Steve hooks his ankle around yours beneath the table. You turn your smile on him and find his waiting.

“You remind me a lot of your father,” John Harrington sighs, “Getting involved in family business that doesn't concern you.”

“That's not fair. We’re all at this table having this conversation,” Steve argues stronger now, “You just don't want to admit you don't know anything about me or my life.”

It's an outburst that silences the table for a minute. You think Steve’s grip on your hand may shatter your bones, but you’re okay with making that sacrifice for him. He keeps himself stoic, but you can tell. You can see the anxiety and the anticipation. His father’s piercing green eyes slide from Steve to you.

“Does the chief know where you are?” He asks pointedly.

You swallow nervously.

“Yes,” you don't technically lie.

He hm’s as he regards you carefully.

“And he knows who you’re with?”

“Yes,” you don't technically lie a little quieter.

He knows you're with Steve at Steve’s. Steve’s father’s eyes glint in amusement. He smirks like he’s privy to something you're not. It leaves you feeling anxious and exposed. Then his expression hardens and moves to Steve again.

“Stay in Hawkins. Waste your time at the mall, but you’ll be doing it without our money. You can stay here, but that's the only help you'll receive from us. So, you better make your decision wisely,” his father offers what he thinks is a difficult ultimatum.

“Okay,” Steve replies without hesitation.

“What?” His father questions coolly.

“I’ll stay in Hawkins with my nothing,” Steve answers with a shrug.

His father’s jaw clicks as it sets. His knuckles go white around his utensils. An even exhale exits from his nose.

“Fine,” he states with that finality again.

“Wait,” Steve's mom points at you with her fork, “Are you Jim Hopper’s kid?”

And just like that the conversation moves on as if that confrontation never happened. The night isn't awful considering. It's certainly uncomfortable, but you can deal with that. You manage to make it to the car before Steve's all over you. He crowds you against the passenger side, hands holding your face as he presses a passionate kiss to your lips. You grip his shirt, the only purchase you could get in your surprise. Your skin buzzes with the feeling of Steve. He pulls away, but you follow and steal another kiss. He smiles into it.

When you finally let him go, he keeps his forehead on yours. Something he noticed you like. Really, you like proximity in general, but you especially like being close enough to steal kisses. 

“You’re amazing, y’know that? I don't think I tell you that enough,” he smiles.

“I mean, I wouldn't object to you telling me that more,” you smirk.

“You’re,” he kisses you again briefly, “amazing.”

“Please,” you chuckle, “you were a total badass in there!”

“Yeah?” He grins.

“Oh, big time. The way you stood up to him was honestly hot,” you tell him flirtatiously. 

“Is that right?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You laugh and playfully shove his face away. He laughs too, letting his forehead fall to your shoulder. Your fingers comb lightly through the back of his hair. His hands drop to rest on your waist. 

“Steve, this might sound stupid, but did you dress like this because of me?” You ask quietly after a moment.

He lifts his head. You come face to face with familiar furrowed eyebrows.

“I always dress like this,” he says.

“I know, but you must have known how nice they were dressed,” you point out.

His caramel-apple eyes search yours for a moment. He takes an even breath.

“I knew if we were both dressed normally they would assume you were ‘dressed down’,” he does finger quotes, “because of me. Not because you don't care.”

To his surprise, you give him a small smile. He was expecting you to be something close to offended at least. 

“That’s really sweet,” you tell him softly.

“What’s sweet was you standing up for me back there.”

“Me? Steve, you just gave up everything for what you wanted. You did just fine on your own,” you shake your head.

“I wouldn't have been able to if I didn't have you.”

“I doubt that. You’re very capable.”

“Are you kidding? I only cared about staying for you,” he chuckles like you're silly for not realizing.

“R- really?”

“Yeah, you dope,” he laughs, “I love you.”

It's like you're flying. You crash your lips into his, both of you smiling. 

“I love you too,” you tell him with a chuckle. 

He kisses you a few more times before taking you back to Robin’s. 

<< Rule One | Rule Three >>

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

Arthur Morgan Headcannons but you have an invisible illness

Okay, this is a special one, I’m not going to share this person’s specific illnesses, but a few general invisible illnesses because I want to respect their privacy. I am going to tag them so they can read these and hopefully have a good time! 

So, this one is for you @mrsarthurmorgan7 I hope you enjoy this! 

Okay, first things first!

I do not have an invisible illness, other than

well

the anxiety lmao

so if I get something wrong let me know! I’ve done some research but I am in no way a professional!

Let’s go!

Arthur is a good man, a fantastic man, a man who is kind of stupid.

He probably won’t realize you have anything going on unless you tell him specifically that there’s something going on with you.

When you tell him it’s an ‘invisible illness’ he’s confused.

“The hell you mean invisible illness? Ain’t all of ‘em invisible?” 

So of course you have to explain to him what an invisible illness is. 

Once he understands that an invisible illness is something that makes your life difficult but doesn’t physically change the way you look so it can’t really be seen by people just with a glance, he feels bad for never really realizing anything

Which of course you tell him it’s not his fault, no one can tell it, you didn’t expect him to either. 

When you tell him your exact illness and what it entails he’ll do his absolute best to help you out.

Maybe you have severe anxiety and depression and it causes physical issues, such as an upset stomach or troubles sleeping.

Arthur has those two himself so he easily understands and is always there to reassure you, no matter what.

He’ll tell you how happy you make him, how important you are to him, and everything he loves about you.

Anything to make your day better. 

Maybe you have an illness that makes your body ache everyday, hurt so much that you can’t even accomplish everyday tasks. 

He will completely understand and if anyone in camp DARES

I mean

DARES

To try and tell you to get up off your ass and do work

He’s at their throat with a knife or behind their back with a gun to their temple without a second thought. Hell, even if it was Charles, or Dutch, He’d even do it to Hosea, if he dared.

He is fiercely protective over you, FIERCELY 

I mean, you didn’t do shit to deserve this and so your bad days are his bad days too

He loves you to no ends so seeing you upset makes him upset and when you’re in pain there isn’t much he can do.

If your bones ache it’s not like he can just fix them. 

If your muscles hurt at least he can do something to help, there.

He’ll massage you no matter what part of your body needs massaged, and he’ll do his best to make sure he doesn’t do it too hard, he doesn’t want to hurt you any further and he’ll listen to every instruction you give him. 

Some days your arms are weaker than others because of the illness, it isn’t something you can control and you always feel as though it makes you so useless for the camp 

but Arthur refuses to let you think that about yourself, and refuses to allow you to think that way

He makes sure you know that even if you struggle to do some chores in camp you’re just as important as others.

Firstly

Molly doesn’t do too many chores, and neither does Uncle, yet they’re still around

Not to mention even with your illness you do more than the two of them combined

He makes sure you know that it’s okay to have your off days, it’s not your fault in the slightest, you don’t get to control when it acts up and the moment it does he’s happy to take a day off himself and sit with you as long as he needs to to make sure you feel better.

He’ll even take you into camp (As carefully as he can of course) and then get you a hot bath, to help with relaxing your body.

He knows it takes a really big toll on you

He’ll make sure it’s HOt but not too hot, and he’ll make sure that he gets a warm towel for you afterwards and the whole time you’re in there he’s rubbing your shoulders. 

Whatever pain you might have he does his best to help

Say your invisible illness makes you unable to have children (If you’re a woman of course)

He wants kids yes

but 

if you can’t have them 

he’s not going to be angry at you, especially considering its not your fault 

He realizes his life isn’t exactly the best place for a kid in the first place. He’s always out running he’s always risking his life

He wouldn’t want to traumatize a kid by not coming back one day due to some shooting

He has Jack, and if he can’t have kids with the person he loves because of some illness he’s okay with just his nephew.

Of course if you don’t want kids that makes it even easier. Then he doesn’t feel bad about you not being able to have any in the first place. Of course if you did want them he’d feel bad he couldn’t fix it for you.

Plus, if you’re unable to have kids

Well

Let’s be honest with ourselves

Theres a shit ton less worry for Arthur when you two are intimate. 

He doesn’t have to try and think at the last second to make sure he doesn’t 

well

you know

If you can’t have kids think about it

No worry at all about finishing in ya

That he’s extremely excited about I mean....

He’s got a thing for it let’s be honest.

The first couple of times it happens he panics of course because he’s not used to that kind of thing but 

He starts stuttering and panicking and he’s naked the whole time so it’s hilarious

“Oh shit Y/N I’m sorry I didn’t....Shit Darlin’ I didn’t mean...I wasn’t thinkin’ I was...and you...”

“Arthur, for the love of god I can’t have kids.” 

“Oh, shit...that’s right...I...I kinda forgot.” 

“Just lay down you fool.” 

Of course, if you start to feel tired or hurting while you guys are intimate he’ll stop at the drop of a pin

He may be a horny bastard

but he’s not a horrible person so if you’re hurting then of course he’s gonna do his best to help you feel better. 

He’ll stop and then start cuddling you to make you feel better. 

Now

If you do want kids but you can’t

He is willing to adopt kids

in fact considering the fact that he himself pretty much is an adopted kid he’s all for it.

And the two of you will find the perfect kid to adopt and you’ll raise him as if you had him yourself. 

Maybe the illness you have causes hot flashes or something similar

He’ll do his best to warm you up or cool you down the best he can

He once threw you into the river even because you were so hot

It helped you and it was funny for him

Granted it was a gentle throw, so he didn’t hurt you

but it was funny nonetheless

If you’re cold, even if you’re in the middle of the desert, he gives you every coat he owns, piling one on top of the other

then blankets, and even if it’ll make him hot and sweaty he’ll sit and hold you to make sure you’re warm.

He’s just as caring and kind as one could possibly want when it comes to this kind of thing

He might not fully understand it at all but he’s willing to listen to you explain it and he’ll even write things down in his journal in an attempt to try and remember it all. 

Sometimes he asks you to quiz him so that he makes sure he’s doing things properly.

He makes sure that he does the best he can.

Please be patient with him, he wants to do everything in his power, and he’s going to, but you have to teach him.

All in all

He’s the best learner

and the best significant other one could ask for when it comes to having an invisible illness. 

He’s there for you

At every turn!

Okay! As I said, I don’t have an invisible illness, but I did my best! So please! Tell me if something is off, if something needs changed! I’ll do my best to make it better for everyone!

I hope you enjoyed it! 

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Cannon

Today started out so well. Kakashi had crawled out of bed at a decent hour, given his student's little heart attacks when he arrived at training on time, and Gai had even agreed to a nice relaxing challenge for once.

A challenge that wouldn't take a lot of energy, but required some thinking instead.

He'd thought it was a good idea. An opportunity to make Gai focus and think things through before acting.

What he hadn't realized was how much Gai had learned the art of 'being a little shit' from him. A lesson that Kakashi had never actively given his friend, but which he had picked up along the way anyway.

"I hate it."

"But I did the challenge right," Gai argued, a proud smile spread across his face. "You told me to look through all of the books at the library and pick out some titles to make a poem out of."

"That was the challenge, yes," A challenge that Kakashi was regretting now that he was faced with the tower of books Gai had placed on top of the table, the spines facing Kakashi so he could read the titles. "But you didn't have to be so rude about it."

"It's not rude!" stepping up to the table, Gai slapped a hand down on the top book. "It's the most beautiful poem ever!"

"Beautiful?"

"As beautiful as I am." He confirmed with a bright grin.

No matter how long he looked at it, Kakashi couldn't see the beauty that Gai spoke of. All he saw was a terrible mash-up of book titles that came together to insult his particular taste in books.

"Read it out loud."

Kakashi narrowed his eyes. "I refuse."

"Read it out loud," Gai insisted. "And tell me that it's not the most beautiful thing you've ever heard."

He's not sure why he gives in. Whether it's out of some feeling of loyalty to Gai, or because he's just not in the mood to argue. Whatever it is, Kakashi finds himself giving in to Gai's request and reading each book title out loud.

"Icha Icha Violence." a strong start, but he knew what was coming next. There was no compliment. No beautiful poetry about romance or an artist's skill. Only insults followed and Kakashi wanted nothing to do with them.

"Continue."

Taking a deep breath, he pushed forward. "Icha Icha Violence. Worst case scenario, it's a d-" The word got stuck in his throat. Refusing to come out no matter how hard he tried to force it.

"Disaster." Gai finished for him. "It's alright, Rival. I forgive you. I know the beauty of my work can be overwhelming."

"Beauty...you keep using that word but I don't think you know what it means."

Gai huffed. "You're beautiful."

"See, you're just proving my point."

"Kakashi!"

Not wanting to start an argument, Kakashi returned his focus to the poem and forced himself to continue. "In a good light, if you look close, there's hope at the end of the tunnel."

"Stunning," Gai grinned. "Continue."

"At the end of the day, you've made a mistake. You'll regret it." With each word he said Kakashi felt his soul crumbling. The weight of Gai's insult slowly took its toll on him while he was left standing there unable to do anything to prevent his inevitable death.

"Just one more line," Gai pushed, his smile only growing wider when Kakashi looked at him with tired eyes. "Come on, Rival. You need to finish it."

"C-" feeling his throat closing around the word, Kakashi stopped and took a moment to breathe. He could do this, he knew he could. He just had to keep going. Once it was over he could relax and start thinking about the sweet revenge he would bring down on Gai. "Crying yourself to sleep."

Gai's face looked like it was about to split in half under the sheer force of his grin. "Beautiful."

"I hate it."

"But I love it," Gai chuckled. "And I won."

"I haven't even finished mine yet," he argued. "I could still win!"

"Could you though? could you really?"

Thinking about it, Kakashi sighed. "No..."

"That's what I thought," With one final slap against his book pile, Gai stepped away from the table and crowded into Kakashi's space. "Tell me you liked it."

"I hated it," he grumbled under his breath. "Icha Icha Violence is my favourite book. You know this."

"I do," Slipping a hand into Kakashi's hair, Gai leaned in and pressed a kiss against his left cheek. "And I also know you can handle being made fun of once in a while."

"From my students, yes," he had no hope of stopping them from making fun of him at every opportunity, and no interest in putting a stop to it. They were having fun and as hurtful as their comments could get at times he usually forgot them within an hour. "From my friends, most of the time."

"But not from me?"

"You're my boyfriend," he grunted. "You're supposed to be nice to me."

"Oh Kakashi," lifting his other hand, Gai gently cupped Kakashi's face in his hands. "I'm always nice to you."

"Not when you make mean poems about my favourite books."

Gai's laughter rang through the air. A comforting sound to Kakashi's ears after being forced to listen to that awful poem. It was a sound that Kakashi could happily get lost in if only the world would stop turning and time would stand still.

He would happily stand there forever listening to Gai's laughter, if only he was allowed to.

"You're beautiful," Gai whispered, pressing a kiss against the top of Kakashi's nose. "And the smartest person I know," he kissed him again, this time right over his left eye. "You're kind and protective. There's nothing you won't do for your friends."

Kakashi could feel the heat rising up the back of his neck. Scanning the area around them, he breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed there was no one around watching them.

"You're embarrassing."

"I'm yours," Gai whispered a promise against Kakashi's skin. "Forever."

His forever.

Now those were sweet words. A promise that Kakashi wouldn't mind hearing once more, or maybe twice. Perhaps three times, if he was lucky.

"Mine," a smile tugged at the edges of his lips. "Rude Poetry and all."

[whisperthatruns]

An Aria

How do I get my mind back? Yes, my mind. The fascist, that murderer of half a million, never had my body. My body has been owned, but not by him. I never liked backtracking. Brush Road, Born Street. I’ve walked those roads before, barefoot. There is no going back to Born. No mind left behind to recoup. It’s like donated clothes you try to buy back from the sucker who’s already wearing them. But there is something to be claimed. Some comrade to bust out of jail who can’t see the way forward even when you crack the chains. In my pre-tit days, I’d walk to the empty outdoor theater and sit on the playground equipment beneath the screen. Everything in that place was silver. Gravel, playground horses, and rocket ships whose paint had chipped away by wind and time. I knew nothing larger than that screen. No god so sublime. Silver-white against the whiter clouds. Peppered with purple bird shit. When night falls, anything can project itself against a face like that. Cartoons, or Vixen, rated X. When the free-show man came to town, he’d hang a sheet between two trees and project cowboy movies against it. Kids sat on the grass eating popcorn from greasy paper bags, watching ads scroll down the screen. Popcorn wasn’t free. A free show is never really free. Do you think someone didn’t die on that sheet hung between two trees? I once received a letter from the current lover of the love of my life telling me he’d overdosed and died. She wrote on thin blue paper etched with flowers. An act of grace I hadn’t earned. I’d left him behind knowing it was just a matter of time. My mind has grown wooden around love, like a tree that has nearly swallowed a garden gate where lovers met at moonrise when the air was thick with Hesperis. A musty, fatal scent, like punks who refused to bathe. Lovers long dead, gate now opening only to the tree’s heartwood. My son’s first love was Anne Frank, after he read her diary. He was eight, drawing portraits of her day and night. I must have Anne, he said when I tucked him in, though he knew she was dead, whatever that means. This is the mind, sepia, color of dried blood. Maybe the first love is the best love. The first loss, the worst. If so, mine came early. The rest is repetition compulsion, iterations until the ink runs dry. Still, remembering wakes my mind a little, or some facsimile of the mind I used to be. All activities of the mind now seem quaint, like dolls with lace faces unearthed from beneath the attic stairway. My feelings, too, smothered like a kingdom of bees so the buzzing doesn’t draw attention to their honey. Now, to unmuffle myself, I read Keats’ love letters, written in a tubercular fever, then listen to Marquee Moon, album by Television, that Tom Verlaine band, so aggressive live it made me start my period, leave a lyric bloodstain on the chair. Then I play “Gimme Shelter” on repeat to be awash in the supremacy of Merry Clayton’s background vocals. Called into the studio in the middle of the night, cold, hair in curlers, pregnant, pushed out her scream- song aria three times, and miscarried a daughter the next day. She blamed it on the song but not her voice. When she woke after a car accident, years later, with amputated legs, she asked only about her voice. Mother, may I sing again? May I see again, not a symbol of a flower but Hesperis, tolls again in the wind again. Flower of an hour. A fragrant hour. Its face, skin, smile, its opening again, the curtain of petals closing over its face again. May I take the murdered world in? Sing of it again?

Diane Seuss (The Adroit Journal, 2024)

[everlywindex]

my headcanon for how robin and finney met!

bonus character analysis/rant under the cut

when robin was 7 years old, before he properly met finney, he'd just lost his dad and was a lot more stressed out and emotionally volatile. as a result, bullies liked to take advantage of his temper in order to rile him up and get him to attack them, that way he'd get in trouble even though they were the ones who started it.

one day, one of these kids got robin to shove them during recess, but as they ran off to tell the teacher, he bolted and hid underneath the slide. finney had been noticing this happening and felt bad for his classmate, so when the teacher came near, he went over and lied to the teacher about where robin was hiding, sending them in a completely different direction.

once the teacher was gone, finney made his way to robin's hiding spot under the slide. he sat next to him and they started to chat. finney revealed that he'd lied to the teacher, and thanked robin for finally standing up to those bullies even though it got him in trouble so often.

finney couldn't help but look up to the other boy for being so recklessly determined to stand up for himself, as well as for others less fortunate (whether it be another kid being targeted by older students, or a random spider that one of the other kids was threatening to squish) and that's why finney did what he did.

but robin, meanwhile... in that moment, even if finney didn't think that highly of himself, robin was awestruck at this kid who'd just lied to a teacher for someone he didn't even know. it was a sign of pure boldness, bravery, and compassion, the likes of which were pretty uncommon, especially among their peers.

and yet here finney was, acting like it was no big deal.

that's when they became best friends. decided to look out for each other and have each other's backs, no matter what. this was going to be the start of something special, that was for certain.

(granted they both got found under the slide before recess ended and they were put in detention the rest of the day but they just spent the whole time passing notes to each other with silly doodles on them so it was okay)

☆

prepare for an essay folks. it might even be my longest one yet.

okay. so. i get. SOOO FUCKING ANNOYED BY INTERPRETATIONS OF FINBIN THAT ACT LIKE THEY WERE FRIENDS BECAUSE ROBIN JUST FELT BAD FOR FINNEY AND WANTED TO PROTECT HIM OUT OF PITY OR BECAUSE HE JUST THOUGHT HE WAS "CUTE" OR WHATEVER!!! IT MAKES MY BLOOD BOIL!!!!!!

here's the thing. Guys. this may come as a shocker but robin explicitly states:

"you've always been a fighter, finn! that's what we had in common. why we were friends. you were always afraid to throw a punch, but you always knew how to take one. and you always got back up, every time."

finney never was the type to beat the shit out of those who challenged him or intimidate others with his mere presence. finney is shy. he's conflict avoidant. he'd rather run from his fears than face them head on. but finney is not weak. and robin knows this.

that's why their dynamic is so special! robin understands finney's situation. he knows that finney has a terrible home life and he can't just fight back against that due to the power imbalance between him and his dad. robin knows that all of the relentless bullying that finney had faced has given him issues with his self esteem and confidence.

robin understands that strength does not equal invulnerability.

finney had to practically raise his little sister on his own for what's likely to be nearly half his life due to abuse and neglect while shouldering all this trauma that no kid his age should ever have to deal with. it's fucked up. of course that takes its toll on someone, of course they won't come out of it unscathed and unbothered.

but in robin's eyes, that's what makes finney's strength so obvious. he was forced into being the strong one, he didn't ask to be the strong one, and yet he's still here. even after everything terrible he's suffered through, he still always gets back up.

finney doesn't recognize it, but robin does. robin tells finney that he needs to stand up for himself someday because robin knows he already has it in him, even if finney doesn't recognize that himself.

so when i see an interpretation of finbin becoming friends that states that robin wanted to be finney's friend just because finney needed protection... it feels. so weird and wrong. because it completely takes away that respect and admiration on robin's end that was so present in the original movie

i think you guys forget sometimes that robin does admire finney and not just in the shippy "he's so pretty/nice/cute/sweet!!" way. no. robin thinks finney is just straight up really awesome and strong and cool. and he wants finney to have as much faith in himself as robin has in him!

it's so frustrating how people see this extremely sweet dynamic between an abused bullied kid who has low self esteem and considers himself to be weak despite the fact that he's shouldering more trauma and responsibility than anyone his age should ever have to deal with & his best friend who sees him for who he truly is, thinks he's SO fucking awesome, and wants him to see how awesome he is as well... and then those people just proceed to make it a flat "soft uwu boy x strong tough protector boy" with absolutely none of that incredibly engaging nuance

it just makes me... sad. y'know? i hope one day more people in this fandom can come to appreciate these guys for their actual dynamic instead of shaving off everything about their dynamic that's unique and just leaving us with a pair of cookie cutter generic Gay Boys™ that can be easily molded into any incorrect quotes template that shows up on their dash

because that's just not finney and robin.

and i will die melodramatically in a magnificent blaze of glory on this hill if there is even a slim chance my martyrdom will inspire a change in this cursed hellscape of a fandom /lh. i just want justice for my boys!!! but these weird boring one dimensional interpretations of them are so common!! it drives me insane

anyways i'd love to hear your guys' takes on this. mostly because i just want more excuses to talk about finbin. please talk to me about finbin pl

[portaltothevoid]

For Whom the Bell Tolls - Chapter 21 - A Forest

Pairing: Eddie Munson x OFC (Kat Ramsay), sequel to Foolin’

Summary: Eddie and Steve have a heart to heart on the way to Nancy’s. The group faces a new threat.

Warnings: None that I can think of?

Word count: 1.8k

Chapter song: A Forest by The Cure

Tag list: @munchabunch​ @madaboutmunson​​ @earl-greater

Thunderstorms were usually comforting. The low rumbles or sudden cracks, the lightning that would fork across the sky or illuminate everything in this almost lavender glow. Here though? In this other world? In the Upside Down? It did nothing, but caused an uneasy feeling to settle around Kat. It was constant.

Everything was muted and abysmal. These snowflakes, or whatever they were, constantly floating through the air like ash from nuclear fallout. Blood red skies above only glowing a deeper red which each flash of lightning in the clouds overhead. Robin and Nancy had wandered ahead, set on a path of determination. Eddie and Steve had fallen to the back of the pack, while Kat just kept to herself. Her arms crossed, she tried to keep pulling them as close to her body as she could in order to self-soothe.  

She knew the others couldn’t pick up on what she was feeling, and while she wasn’t sure how, she knew they were being watched. Not just her, every single one of them walking through that forest. The vines acted like feelers or warning signals. That wasn’t what was keeping an eye on them, keeping track of them. It was something else entirely. 

With each step forward the only thing Kat could focus on was her breathing. She hated how scared she felt. She had lost years of her life training for something like this. There was a time when she would have immediately gone on the hunt for Vecna and taken her shot at him. This time, in her current state, she felt like nothing more than a coward. Terrified of what lies beyond the next corner, scared of what could be lurking in the trees surrounding them, frightened at the thought that not everyone would make it out of this ordeal alive. She was the one with the power. Her responsibility was to save those around her. Given the track record of Vecna: 3 and Kat: 0, her confidence was definitely waning. 

The feeling in the pit of her stomach felt like the moment before you dropped on a roller coaster, only it was constant. She didn’t even feel the dampness of her clothes, but instead was weighed down by dread. Her feet kept following the girls in front of her. Always having them in her sight reminded her to just move forward, because if she didn’t, she was ten seconds to spiraling.

Steve breaking the silence to talk with Eddie helped Kat to focus on something else besides the doom and gloom that was encapsulating her.

“Eddie. Hey, man, uh… Listen, I just, uh…” he sputtered. “I just want to say thanks for saving my ass back there.”

“Shit. You saved your own ass, man. I mean, that was a real Ozzy move you pulled back there,” Eddie said sincerely. Kat couldn’t help, but crack a small smile at Eddie’s reference. Meanwhile, he was shocked at Steve’s gratitude. These past few days have been shocking for him. The people that Hawkins had put on a pedestal, like Chrissy, like Steve, were turning out to be quite the opposite from their supposed “popular” stereotypes.

“Ozzy?” Steve asked, clearly not knowing what Eddie was referring to.

“When you took a bite out of that bat,” Eddie paused when he was met with a blank look from Steve. “Ozzy Osbourne? Black Sabbath? He bit a bat’s head off on stage.”

“I don’t–”

“You know?”

“No.”

“Doesn’t  matter. It was very metal, what you did. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Thanks,” Steve said, unsure of how to take this compliment from Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson.

“Henderson told me you were a badass. Insisted on the matter, in fact.”

“Wait, Henderson said that?” Steve clarified, surprised now by this sudden confession.

“Oh, yeah. Shit. Kid worships you, dude. Like, you have no idea. It’s kinda annoying, to be honest. I don’t even know why I care what that little shrimp thinks, but, uh, guess I just got a little jealous, Steve. I guess I couldn’t accept the fact that Steve Harrington was actually… a good dude.” 

The words just came spilling out of Eddie and once he started, it was like he couldn’t stop. His words were nothing, but true. Henderson was one of his favorites in Hellfire Club. As soon as he spotted him, he saw a bit of himself in the kid, especially his brazen “I am who I am” attitude. Eddie never had a sibling. Hell, he barely had anyone to look up to when he was Dustin’s age. The only person he had to figure things out with was himself and as his reputation precedes him, he didn’t make a lot of good choices. If even just for a year, he could guide Dustin to stay true to himself, that’s what he was gonna do. He wanted to be that older brother figure for his younger friend, but with how much Dustin admired Steve, he always felt as if he was in Steve’s shadow. Steve’s comments and being there for Kat when he wasn’t, like at her birthday, ate him up inside. Not that he would ever show it. 

Jealousy always finds a way to creep in and make itself at home. Steve was the one with the leg up in the world while Eddie had to fight and claw his way for everything he had. He was sick of fighting, of feeling weak. So whenever he could, he was always jab back at Steve. And yet, over these past few days, he was able to see a kinder side to his unofficial archenemy. Steve was with Dustin the whole time helping and making sure not only Kat was safe, but him too. He wanted to protect him and clear his name as much as anyone in that group. The kindness and at some points selflessness, Eddie could do nothing, but respect that.

“Rich parents, popular, chicks love him. Not a douche?” Eddie continued. “No way, man. No way. That, like, flies in the face of all the laws in the universe and my own personal Munson doctrine,” he said as he put his hands over his heart. “And not to mention how you were there to help her,” he dropped his voice to a whisper and nodded in front of him to Kat, “with that whole birthday fiasco…”

Steve wasn’t all that used to compliments outside of his looks, so his only response was to bashfully crook his mouth up into a half smile. This awkward air fell over them and Eddie, trying to diffuse it, leaned in, invading Steve’s space a bit, as he said “Still super jealous as hell, by the way,” causing them both to snicker at the admission. “Which is why I never would have jumped in that lake to save your ass. Not under any… uh, normal circumstances.”

Suddenly a branch snapped. Everyone froze. Steve shone his flashlight in the direction of the sound. No one could see anything, but a distant growling could be heard. Kat slowly turned her head in the direction of the sound. Her hand instantly flew up to the back of her neck, feeling it covered in goosebumps. Whatever was watching them, was making itself known. She waited for Steve and Eddie to be a few steps behind her before she continued forward.

“Nope. Outside of D&D, I am no hero. I see danger and I just turn heel and run. Or at least that’s what I’ve learned about myself this week.” Flickers of shame tugged at Eddie’s voice. Kat frowned hearing him say that, knowing how he had saved her countless times. At this point, she couldn’t really help but share his sentiments with her own self-doubt.

“Give yourself a break, man,” Steve said as he slapped his hand across Eddie’s chest.

“See?” Eddie held up a hand to stop Steve. Kat slowly walked forward knowing they had stopped, but wanted to see where this was going. “The only reason I came in here was ‘cause those ladies came in straight after you. Even Kat. Granted I would have followed her anyway, but she’s not close to you like the other two. And yet, immediately she was taking off her jacket to dive in to rescue you, or some shit. Me? I was too ashamed to be the one who stayed behind. But Wheeler, right there, she didn’t waste a second. Not one second. She just dove right in. Now, I don’t know what happened between you two, but if I were you, I would get her back. ‘Cause that was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.” 

Steve processed what Eddie was telling him as he stared longly at Nancy as she carried on in front of him.

“He’s right, you know,” Kat chimed in, unable to resist any longer as she walked back towards them. “And I, for one, am speaking from experience. If this cynical guy, here…” she said tapping on his chest and cocking her head at Steve, “If anything were to ever happen to him? I’d send whoever hurt him into another alternate dimension. And you can’t tell me Nancy wouldn’t at least try to do the same for you.”

Eddie beamed down at Kat who returned the loving smile. Steve sighed and as he opened his mouth to say something, a loud snapping sound was heard from the woods. Closer than the first one they heard. Steve immediately shut his mouth, but opened it again to say “Wh-what was that?” as he shone his flashlight around their perimeter. 

“Robin. Nancy. Stop,” Kat commanded.

A low growling sound came from behind them. Kat put her hands out, herding the group behind her, shielding them. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing straight up. She knew whatever was watching them, whatever was following them, was only a few seconds away from making its move.

When I tell you guys to run, fucking run. No matter what. Just nod slowly if you understand. Kat said to the group using her telepathy. Everyone nodded, their eyes wide at what she was able to do. Everyone that is, except Eddie. Eddie, we don’t fucking have time for this. If I say run, you run. Reluctantly, he nodded once. Not that he was actually going to obey her. There’s no way he’d leave her to fend for herself. No way.

Quickly, an image of a house appeared in Kat’s mind. She could feel nothing but Nancy’s presence surrounding the image. Run to Nancy’s house. Don’t look back. She instructed and then turned her attention briefly towards Eddie, gaining his attention. I will meet you there.

The growling grew louder, then a sound like someone obnoxiously licking their lips was heard from behind the trees. Branches and dead leaves crunched under this thing’s feet. And then, it moved into full view. It was crouched on all fours. Its head opened like a flower, revealing trails of spit and rows upon rows of sharp teeth. A couple of the creature’s friends decided to join the soirée, popping out from behind nearby trees. Flanking at its heels. The supposed leader let out an ear piercing roar that was aimed directly at Kat.

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