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jazeswhbhaven · 2 months ago

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He Can Match Your Freak | Asmodeus Selfie Spoilers

OKAY sooo FINALLY I'm posting this lol it's probably going to be like two parts maybe??? Let's see how this goes because I'm learning to not post thousands of screenshots unless it's relevant.

First. I'm skipping the prologue because most have seen it, and I'm doing a different thing with that anyway.

SOOO it's gonna be a crash course ya'll with jumping right in when MC is in his room about to get them cheeks clapped.

He wants to know more about MC because of what he's heard and well he wouldn't be wrong here. MC apparently is quite the deviant. And you can tell the writers tried to describe him as majestic and breathtaking as possible because the way MC sees him is similar to how they see Leviathan.

Until they said this mess.

G I R L WH A T

Even Asmo was like ???? But he has a sense of humor so he just laughed it off which I mean okay yes as if he would care about that phrase being weird.

But MC out here actin' up once a g a i n. lol

But also they mention his body odor keeps wafting over in MC's nose clearly yeah because not only them pheromones' but uh anyways we'll get to that part later

And MC was just like covering their nose and is like "this is dangerous" and for me ya'll?

I'd be afraid to offend him by saying he smells ripe which I'm sure he wouldn't be offended because I'm not sure what would offend him at this point in time.

So big boi puts a sigil on MC's body similar to a womb tattoo which is why he said "be surprised you aren't pregnant" but this symbol makes you into his "female" no matter the gender. He goes to say it nicely that you're his "virgin" though.

And with that, most of what's happening is that MC is feeling the effects of Asmo without him even doing much of anything just yet. The feelings of having climaxed multiple times over, hazy, losing your goddamn mind.

That sort of thing.

Baby I would have cried on the spot. What do you mean be your companion?

Yup he asked MC to not only be his one night stand but to basically be his and that he thinks he could fall in love with them.

He says that he can fall in love at first sight despite his reputation. And also he mentions MC is his third love. First was Solomon (rejected him and wouldn't tell him who it is he was in love with) and two his late wife who was a witch and it's their children/descendants who are the Unholyc that inhabit Earth.

I'mma be honest with ya'll I didn't finish Lovely Unholyc because I was mostly interested in William, there was no route for him at that time so I just kinda dipped, tried again and then dipped lol

oh btw he apparently just straight up wanted to yap about him clapping Solomon's cheeks and getting his cheeks clapped back and how many damn positions they did and I'm trying to wrap my head around what the fuck they did because at one point surely they were on the ceiling or floating mid-air, like I don't even know

But his wife who chose to live on Earth and grow old and die normally put a curse on his soul. He can love and fuck whoever he wants and should never be lonely but he can't have any more children. If he does, they die, and he dies along with the partner he made them with. (the fall of the house of usher vibes)

AND let me just say? That woman did the world a favor because he has a breeding kink. We'd have a whole universe full of little Asmo halflings running around. So either it was her being possessive or just her sparing the world of that burden then yeah thank you for that because phew.

i don't need no babies anyways

And he says the same thing like "Oh we can leave other things other than babies, like photos of us in a mess" meaning he really meant when he said he wanted to participate in the contest.

I mean he would have won so I think it's fair to give the others a chance. Lol

So things are getting hot and heavy now and he's wondering why MC is holding back. Honestly I'm like huh he did say that he turns you into a virgin and not everyone is confident when being presented with the chance of a lifetime to fuck the embodiment of lust.

But at the same time I mean...MC this is your element and you are pretty much striking out. (not to him but to me you are)

SO I complied all of these because this is important. Asmodeus is literally combining all of their philias and using them on MC and he's quite good at it. And well, why wouldn't he be?

And he even goes to strangle and lick up MCs tears?

Yeah we know what he's about.

His tongue did what now?

his tongue did what now

his tongooooooooooooo

Anyways I short circuited there because everything about him is just driving me nuts.

MC even said they were coming by him just kissing them and I'm like hold up??????

I fucking bet.

Okay ya'll picked the nastiest ass stuff for him to mention but I get it. Congrats if ya'll have things you're self conscious about during sex Asmo's your demon because he literally won't care and will still be turned on.

Ayo.

Moving on....LMAO

And uh...Asmo was licking MC's snot and spit off their face and they came again.

I'm drowning in a sensory nightmare why is he so h o t but this is nastttyyyyyy

"I can always go hard whenever I feel like fucking the opponent"

Sir what? He just be sayin' anything

But he does ask MC what do they want...and they just smack the fuck out of him so there's that. Lol

I would tell him I'd very much like that mouth on the kewchie. I don't even need anything else just his mouth. His jaw probably can go for days.

Now MC is making deduction here that Asmo is the king of lust and seduction and can pass this feeling on to others. He's dangerous this way.

Now Asmo how do you know that.

Tell me sir HOW (I think I know the answer....but I'd be hella surprised that Belphie would let him hit unless he was watching him...)

But mostly what's happening is that MC is feeling what Asmo feels basically the same spiel as the other kings except with him it's intense to the point where they are quite literally about to pass the fuck out. And Asmo ain't about to stop momentum so you better stay awake MC.

NOW YA'LL.

Bullet point times:

MC has climaxed pretty much several times and they haven't even fucked properly yet

But wait, their clothes are off and....

Bam they notice that Asmo's cock is pretty much halfway in their hole and they haven't even noticed

All he did was push himself to the hilt and MC squirted ya'll

So there's that.

But the womb tattoo is doing it's job because now the climaxes are back to back, and I'm just wondering how the hell MC is still mentally there because I'd be a babbling mess.

Yes daddy.

he makes me SICK (lovingly)

But also they mention the liquid he was feeding MC had a horrible smell and I'm just like oh fucking gawd please get rid of my sense of smell before sleeping with him because I would not make it. Why is everything having to do with him smell so much? LOL

LMAO

MC was begging for his dick and Asmo is like, baby it's already in are you okay?

I'm crying

Yeah remember those memes about people getting high and saying they were vacuuming the dishes?

I imagine that's what it's like having sex with him. One minute you're on the bed next you're in another dimension, floating, transcending, melting, legs bent in impossible shapes. Indeed I am mopping the lawn.

He even mentioned they've done it like six times already and he's just getting started.

with a face like that? phew.

Oh so he does have a good pull out game.

btw the visual for that???? GAWDDDDDDD -> look here

So let me back up a bit and mention that MC was feeling insecure that since they have been doing it for quite some time (2 days I think?) they thought he wasn't satisfied. Nah he was just savoring the moment. He could come at any time. ANd when he does? It's alot and from his horn and everything. Cum fountain.

And best part? No refractory period. He's already hard and slamming that thang back in.

Also he mentions here that there's a smell, and he's getting really worked up.

Yeah he's tearing that up. Like it's overtime ya'll.

There's purple smoke and a erotic aura in the air, he's grabbing and biting down on the back of MC's neck to claim them? Oh he's going in.

Alright here we go.

And just so ya'll know...sorry male MC players....the same line is used in ya'lls version too. No change.

This is the point where I would of preferred perhaps something else be said entirely instead. I know the majority of players are women/non-men but...I can see someone playing and getting side swept like?????

But anyways let's move on past this point

Until the room stank is an understatement.

But anyways, while MC is trying to somewhat calm down, Asmo is still trying to keep the momentum. And MC starts trying to have a normal conversation and figuring out why devil's fear him the most.

But also mentioned they wanted to shove his nasty, greasy, bodily fluid covered hair up their hole. E x c u s e the fuck outta me?

AN Y W AY S

Mc figures that the reason the devils fear him is because of this. Imagine falling for someone like this? Who is nothing but the sole reason existence of lust and temptation where you could fuck for hours and reach pleasure centers unknown and yet have that all be taken away when he leaves? There's no love? No sweet nothings? Just being used up and tossed without any direction and you're just in the dark?

welp.

But Asmo does offer MC some comfort

He tells them that he's back in Hell so he will be around more often. It won't be painful, that it's okay to start slow and that MC would wait for him when he's ready to fully accept his feelings. He could fall in love with them not that he was already in love with them. But with how he's considering him as a companion, how he's biting and claiming them, the amount of time he's spending with MC.

mind you he left Phenomenon on the floor the moment he entered the meeting room so I imagine they weren't fucking for very long at all. I imagine all of his sessions with others are "quick" and for those he really likes they last longggg like days.

Not mention he on that yandere vibes....telling MC he'd lock them up in a cage but he'll deal with it for now.

And apparently when he gives a sincere command, it must be followed. So MC basically ends up getting dressed, not whining about leaving, and all that good stuff. A true dom in that sense.

Also he mentions that when he's nearby MC will just get turned on automatically. "Your body will scream that your man is here"

why is that so hot?

So MC is back in Gehenna and this is when Asmo starts reminiscing about Solomon who predicted that he'd see MC in the future and that he would know that he feels at the moment for Solomon is not 'love'.

I wonder if Asmodeus was just helplessly losing himself for Solomon, and pepaw clocked that and was just telling him to chill on it for a bit. Although it is fucking WI L D to me that he is going to try this again with his friend's descendant..."hey I'm a friend of your grandpa...soooo yeah let's fuck and fall in love"

Sounds weird when I put that way huh? lol

Also since we're at the end I'd like to highlight some personality things about him!

He plays too much: Taking a photo of himself and MC sleeping and sending it to Satan knowing he'd storm immediately to the room

He doesn't have self doubt, he is very much full of himself but is considerate of his partner given the circumstances

He is not into aftercare, he claims that part is included during the sex, if sex is over then it's over

He doesn't shower ya'll. Like at all. But he oddly keeps his nails clean and that's about it? He seems to be obsessed with sex funk

He really likes Mammon. Like a lot. But he does that thing where he's like "Nah I want him to want me so I won't give him what he wants" lol okay

He fucks pillows, pretty much inanimate objects if he feels like it

He has a sense of humor

Romance is not absent, it's just tricky for him since all that's all his brain is "breed breed breed breed sex sex sex breed breed breed oh lets pause for a break sex sex sex kissing sex sex breeding biting"

He loves his children though. He really is a fatherly devil. He beams about his kids and this is a moment where you can catch him not being sexual

It comes to no surprise that he doesn't like the idea of sharing his favorite person but it has me think that his style of relationship is that he's monogamous but if you want to occasionally bring someone to "play" with he won't mind as long as it's discussed and he gets to fuck them too

He's got a one track mind, but it's not like he can't carry on a conversation

Now for my

T H E O R I E S

Asmo is older than all of the kings, but younger than Lucifer

I am reaching in the dark but it seems the only King he's had sex with or has watched have sex is Belphie

He's only in love with MC because he's taking a opportunity that wasn't given to him with Solomon

There's most likely a loophole to his curse that his late wife left on him but he simply chooses not to break it

If the Kings fight together along with Asmodeus, the war would be over, and if we ever get a final battle chapter it's going to be MC who is the missing "key" and the one who figures that out is Asmo because he spent so much time with Solomon

We may get a cameo from one of his children in the story

Asmodeus is possibly capable of lying and just hasn't revealed that to anyone. I say this because if he was one of the very early devils created he is the exception to the rule. So there could be some secret he knows.

BUT wow it seems that I have compiled ALL of this into one post. YAY FOR ME. Now there may be more little blurbs popping up as I remember them but for nowwwwww~ Thank you for reading, hopefully you grabbed some snacks, and ya'll are amazing. Feel free to let me know ya'lls thoughts if you haven't said already on our stinky hot devil man <3 lol

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb asmodeus #whb spoilers #whb screenshots #jazewhbreacts🖤

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yoyomomiko · 2 months ago

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TYSM 4 THE DAISUKE HEADCANON, IT SO CUTE I WAMT TO SQUISH HIS CHEEKS SO BAD OMGGGWGWHAHAH...anyways. HUGGING/CUDDLING/SLEEPING, KISSING, PET NAMES/NICKNAMES HEADCANONS...AS IS WJAT ARE HIS FAVE ONES???? OR OMG LIKE JEALOUSY HC, OR TEXTING, AS IN IS HE A FAST TEXTER OR SOMEONE WHO REPLIES LATER? HOW WOULD HE WRITE AND DOES HE SEMD RANDOM THINGS OR LIKE THOSE SAPPY GOODNIGHT/GOODMORNING TEXTS?...hope it's not annoying🧍, also u dont have 2 write them all!! im just legit tweaking for that man🙏🧎😭

Pairings: Daisuke x F!reader

Warnings: slight mention of nsfw on the sleeping part, but in reality it's just what the other crew thinks :)) not proofread, probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!!

HC: hugging, cuddling, kissing and sleeping with our favorite boy!!

(A/N): DW I LOVE WRITING FOR DAISUKE!! I mean who ISN'T tweaking about that man😍 This is a bit boring but um yeah😢 I HAVE LIKE SO MANY REQUESTS FOR THIS MAN ALREADY IDK HOW I'M GONNA FINISH WRITING THEM ALL I'M HAVING A VERY BUSY WEEK BUT OH WELL!!

╰┈➤ This is like a part 1 btw since I'm gonna write EVERYTHING you requested because I'm crazy like that😁 -> m.list

-- part 2

★HUGGING

You can't tell me this man doesn't love hugs.

For short hugs, he's gonna quickly put a hand around your shoulder. Or maybe he'll just keep you in a quick embrace before letting go.

For longer hugs, he's going to keep one of his hands on the small of your back and the other on your upper back.

OR he's gonna just hold his arm loosely around your waist, it depends😋

Daisuke loves to hold you, that's a fact. He just likes being with you in general, he feels lucky af

★CUDDLING

Like I mentioned in another post, if you sleep in the same bed, you'll get cuddles every single night, I don't make the rules.

Daisuke doesn't mind if he's the big spoon or the little spoon, just CUDDLE with him

If he's the big spoon, he will keep you close, hold you to his chest, arms loosely wrapped around you, pulling you in.

If he's the little spoon, he's gonna curl up and let you spread out or whatever, you can even throw your leg over him he doesn't mind

He's probably gonna let you lay your head on his arm, but then he'll have that weird, tingly static-like feeling covering his whole arm

But he'd be too embarrassed to just pull his arm away, even if it hurts him, he just kinda lets you stay there since he doesn't wanna ruin your comfort.

He's usually the little spoon, he just likes being held and wrapped in your arms. He feels more comfortable that way.

But at the same time, he LOVES being the big spoon, because he feels like he's keeping you safe and secure from whatever difficulties or 'monsters' there are (jabortion)

I feel like his favourite cuddling position is Sweetheart's Cradle, he just prefers to hold you like that, it's easier for him and it's just 'so romantic' (his words not mine)

If you aren't aware of what that position is, google it because I have NO idea how to explain it mb gang😢

If he wants cuddles he's gonna nudge you and lay his head on your shoulder, and if you don't get the hint he's gonna trust fall on you

Lovely cuddles btw, he lives for them and he loves them so so much!!

★KISSING

Okay so he's whipped

Kiss him on the lips while you're passing by him and he's gonna be at your feet

He loves loves LOVES when you just place a small kiss on his forehead and tell him he did something great

I'm telling you I just KNOW this man would kiss every single inch of your body

He likes to kiss the back of your hand softly while doing something for you, he feels like you're a princess

That's right, you don't feel like you're a princess, he feels like you're a princess

I feel like he enjoys short kisses more than long ones, he prefers them quick idk🤷‍♀️

BUT he doesn't mind making out with you so um GO AHEAD😋

Daisuke probably would risk it and make out with you somewhere other than the bedrooms, but he'd be scared that you two would get caught. It's just the THRILL he feels when he does it that gets him going, yk?

PULL ON HIS HAIR WHILE MAKING OUT

He's gonna ask for reassurance to make sure he's kissing you goof enough

★SLEEPING

CUDDLES EVERY NIGHT

Omg SLEEP WITH HIMMMM

I feel like he loves having you play with his hair while whispering praises to him as he slowly drifts to sleep (who doesn't😢)

Daisuke will also just talk about his day while you're also falling asleep, listening to him rant and babble on and on about what he accomplished

I kinda think that at some point someone caught you two sleeping together and probably had other ideas

SWANSEA: He probably rushed to wake up Daisuke, since Daisuke usually kinda just sleeps in. He opens the door to reveal that the young man isn't in fact alone, but accompanied by another person. Swansea notices it's you and all of the sudden something clicks in his head, realizing why Daisuke would talk so much about you. He doesn't mind it, as long as you two are happy. Of course, Swansea at first thought you two did something, but he quickly reassured you guys that he doesn't mind as long as you two don't wake him up at night.

"It's fine, just stay quiet and don't wake me up at night. Don't make this a habit."

ANYA: She wanted you to help her with something, not bothering to knock on your door as she opened and took a look inside. She scanned the room, only to notice you laying in bed asleep with Daisuke. She thought it was sweet and cracked a smile, but probably also thought you two did something else. She felt guilty for invading your privacy and quickly closed the door. She didn't expect you to do such things, but it wasn't a surprise it was Daisuke who was next to you. She's gonna DENY that she opened the door to your room.

"Did you need something earlier this morning?" "What? No, I don't know what you're talking about..."

Jimbo has no reason to enter either of your rooms, and neither does Curly.

Anyways, Daisuke loves sleeping with you because that just makes time for extra cuddles. He doesn't mind if anybody says anything about that, he simply does not care.

Your room or his room? Good question. Both, both is good.

It's usually his room, it just feels better that way. Plus, he has a Gameboy and you two stay up at night playing or watching him play!!

Stays cuddled up with you beneath the blankets to keep you safe!!

He snores. Loudly. You either have to wake him up so he can shut up or you just get used to it.

Since he sleeps with his mouth open he also sometimes drools, BUT, he never managed to drool on your sheets so I guess that's fine😣

He's fine omg

JUST SLEEP WITH HIM IN ANY WAY HE'S GONNA LOVE IT!!

★yoyomiko ★miko

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miraclewoozi · 11 months ago

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DO YOU DREAM OF ME? - c.hs

the first time you kiss your soulmate, you’ll open your eyes to a world of colour. the problem? vernon hates the thought that he might pull away from you and still see in monochrome. or, five times he wanted to plant one on you, and the one time you beat him to it.

pairing ; vernon x gn!reader. content ; all the tropes. 5 times fic. soulmate au. slight college au if you squint. f2l. fluff, some angst. pining. one (1) hint of suggestiveness if u squint. MINORS STILL DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT. content notes ; mentions of reader having a(n unnamed) partner & thereafter, going through a breakup due to said partner cheating. reader is maybe implied to be shorter than him but hopefully not too obviously or frequently. alcohol is mentioned & is a key theme in scene #3. pov switch for the final part (necessary for logistical reasons.) PLEASE let me know if i've forgotten anything. w/c ; 9.6k note ; welcome to thee most self indulgent fic ever lmao. i hope u enjoy this slight break away from what i usually post here (as if my entire brand isn’t writing losers in love. ANYWAY) -- this was very fun and a little bit special for me! <3

“What was your first kiss like?”

Initially, Vernon swears he just didn’t hear you right. It’s dark up here, where you’re hiding away from a party on the roof of his university accommodation and he’s starting to get tired. There’s some sort of siren wailing away in the distance to his left, and on the street below, a gaggle of freshmen are cackling as they walk past the building. His ear closest to you is currently listening to your favourite song.

All the signs suggest that he simply got it wrong.

But he doesn’t know if he believes those signs, especially not seeing as when he looks over at you, you’re staring pointedly up at the stars overhead. He doesn’t doubt that you’re giving yourself an ache in your neck in the process, too.

“Hmm?” He asks, taking out the earphone that connects him to you. The other one is still nestled away in your ear and he reaches to gently pull it away. “What was that?”

You still don’t look at him, but you do repeat yourself. Quietly. “What… was your first kiss like?”

“Oh.”

He was right.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you hurry to say, hugging his jacket tighter around yourself to block out the cold air that blows across the rooftop. He shrugged it off and told you to take it the very moment your teeth started chattering — almost an hour ago now. His arms are bare, shoulders and biceps only covered by a t-shirt so thin it’s practically sheer, but he isn’t cold. He’s always run hotter than most. “Sorry.”

He nudges you with his knee, silently telling you that you don’t need to apologise. He doesn’t mind — you just caught him off guard; Vernon hasn’t given this any thought in a long time, and he has to really put his mind to coming up with an answer. It was forever ago — when he was eleven or twelve, maybe, with his first ever girlfriend. They dated for a whole two and a half weeks. He doesn’t know if it really counts: the kiss was a dare, after all.

“Kinda…” He starts, trying to follow the line of your sight, wondering if he can find the exact stars you’re looking at. “She’d just put this weird lipgloss on. It was real tingly. And like, neither of us knew what we were doing? So it… got everywhere. I think I ended up swallowing some, I don’t know. My mouth felt weird after. Thought I was having an allergic reaction.”

You laugh softly at him. “I think that would put me off for the rest of my life,” you say.

“It almost did,” he chuckles. You hum at him and lean back on your elbows, leaving Vernon more than a little bit confused. He readjusts his hold on his knees, bringing them closer to his chest as he tilts his head down at you in your new position.

“…why?” He asks, just as you close your eyes and take a deep inhale of the cool air.

You just shrug. “I guess I just… wondered.”

He nods, and it’s his turn to fall short of a response, but that’s okay. You’ve known each other for too long for these silences to feel uncomfortable. He grew up with you. In fact, he’s reasonably sure he’s told you this story before. He must have done.

Then he realises, maybe he hasn’t. Because he doesn’t know the story behind yours, and maybe that’s just a line the two of you never came to crossing. He knows he told his other friends, back then, because he was the last one in his circle to have a first kiss and he felt like it made him more grown-up, or something. Naturally, he left out the more embarrassing details. But maybe you just told your other friends who weren’t him, and went on with your life. Maybe yours was just… normal.

Either way, he’s interested now. And there’s no time to ask like the present.

“What was yours like?” He asks, fiddling with the strap on his wristwatch. You don’t answer straight away; he doesn’t think anything of it, because neither did he, but when he’s still waiting for you to speak a small eternity later, he prompts you again. “Hey, it can't have been worse than mine.”

You snort.

“You’ll laugh at me,” you say, shaking your head. Vernon furrows his brows and drops his legs flat, twisting to one side to look at you.

He doesn’t know where you’d get that idea from, but he’s… almost a bit offended by it?

“No I won’t,” he tells you softly. Maybe at first, he might’ve laughed with you, if your story happened to be as dumb as his own. But not at you. Never at. Not when he’s been the butt of the joke in too many friendship circles, for about as long as he can remember.

You take a shallow breath, pursing your lips. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not…” you start to say, before you clear your throat and try again, this time heading in a different direction. “I don’t know. It’s dumb, I guess.”

“Don’t make me come down there,” Vernon threatens playfully, poking you in your side. You squirm, giggling despite yourself, despite the serenity of the sanctuary you two have found, despite the fact that you, too, were on the edge of falling asleep before your question came out of nowhere.

He pokes you again, and again, and then starts to tickle your ribs instead. You squeal, swatting his hands away to no avail and you move to sit up, grabbing him by the forearms to physically make him stop. The grin on Vernon’s face is wide and heart-shaped. A warm feeling spreads through him: it has everything to do with the sweet sounds of your slowly dissolving laughter.

You sit cross-legged across from each other like this for a moment or two. Your knees are touching. Your hands move down his arms until you’re holding him firmly by the wrists. Your eyes lock together: his crease with the sheer force of his boyish smile, while yours are narrowed, daring him to try and wiggle free and attack you again.

He doesn’t, but for the first time ever, he’s struck with the urge to do something maybe more scary.

The urge to just… lean in to you.

It makes his heart do a backflip, in a way that it hasn’t done since he had his last crush. His head goes empty, and he forgets what he was even asking you before: the only thoughts he can muster are ones regarding what your lips taste like, whether they’re half as soft as they look, if you’d lightly touch his shoulder or his arm or his chest or his cheek—

Do you smile when you kiss?, he wonders. Do you sigh? Do you—

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” you answer, looking away now and letting go of him. He’s gone so loose in the moments since you grabbed hold of him that when you’re not supporting their weight, his arms fall like two cinder blocks onto his knees.

True to his word, he doesn’t laugh. He’s surprised by your revelation, sure, but in no way humoured; actually, he feels a little saddened by it, for a reason he can’t put his finger to. He ends up not saying anything, just biting the inside of his cheek; he wants to ask why, but knows maybe that’s a bit of a dick move, and if it’s something you’re sensitive about he doesn’t want to risk hurting you.

But he’s watched people fawn over you for years, and he doesn’t think you’ve ever been short of attention from those who have thought you were attractive. So it can’t be that you’ve been lacking in chances? Surely?

“I thought… maybe I should save it,” you go on to explain. Your hands keep busy by playing with a thread at the cuff of his jacket sleeve, wrapping it around one finger until the skin beneath it pinches before you unravel it again.

“Save it?” He asks. You nod your head.

“For when I thought I’d found them.” You pause, swallowing hard. “Like I said, it’s s—.”

“No it’s not,” Vernon says abruptly, shaking his head. He holds onto you now, one hand slipping around your back until it rests on the shoulder furthest away from him. You scoff. He squeezes you into his side. “Hey. It’s not stupid.”

He doesn’t like how this admission has, somehow, made his desire to kiss you stronger. He hates that he feels even more drawn to you, a magnet finally finding its opposing pole. It freaks him out a little. He’s never wanted to kiss anyone this badly.

Red button theory, he tells himself to try and get back on the straight and narrow. If you hadn’t said anything, none of this would be happening.

“It’s romantic,” he says finally, swiping his thumb in small motions over the top of your shoulder. You nod, mumbling a ‘thank you’ (for what, he isn’t sure), and shiver. Vernon doesn’t know if that’s because of his proximity to you or because you’re finally starting to feel the cold. Either way, he takes the initiative to stand up and holds a hand out for you to take so he can tug you to your feet too. You get up with a little hop.

It’s… devastatingly cute.

“Where are we going?” You ask, brushing off your jeans before shoving your hands into the jacket’s pockets. He’s already on the retreat, walking backwards towards the door that took you up here.

“To get food,” he tells you, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That party was dead, anyway.”

It doesn’t cross his mind again until your twenty-first birthday.

He’s not your soulmate. He couldn’t be. The thought he had on the roof that autumnal night was little more than a passing fantasy; besides, he doesn’t have a thing for you. He doesn’t want to kiss you, or date you, or have you be his soulmate. The reason you work so well together is because you’re just friends; he thinks you’d drive each other crazy if things ever went romantic between you. You bicker with him for sport. He drowns away hours at a time with his headphones clamped over his ears and forgets to answer your texts. It would be a nightmare.

Not that he’s ever thought about all that. Not actively, or even passively. Not when he should be listening to college lectures instead, for example. Not awake, nor in his dreams. He hasn’t. Not once.

He swears.

“You can save it ‘til tomorrow, if you want.”

Vernon bounces his leg nervously, fidgeting with the edge of your comforter as you sit on the floor in front of him, styling your hair for your party. He arrived half an hour ago while you were still waltzing around in your bathrobe, holding a small, neatly wrapped box in both of his hands. It’s several degrees too warm in your bedroom. He feels a bead of sweat roll down his back as you grumble what seems to be a threat at a strand that won’t cooperate. Thankfully, you don’t seem to notice his discomfort. (If you do, he’s grateful that you don’t say anything.)

“But it’s my birthday today,” you pouted, taking the box from him. “Let me finish getting ready, then I’ll open it. Come on.”

His wrist still aches with the pressure you held onto him with as you dragged him up the stairs. Your parents are away for the weekend and the house is all yours, so there’s a speaker blasting your favourite playlist full volume on your nightstand and there’s nobody to tell you to turn it down. He flits his attention between his phone and watching you, but he can’t fully concentrate on either; he’s too nervous that maybe you won’t like his gift, and he’s never been the type to splash out on birthday presents before but this… well, it burned a hole in his wallet, that’s for sure.

“Okay. Wait here,” you tell him as you push up off the floor, limping on the leg that had started to fall asleep thanks to the way you were sitting.

“All right,” he says back. As if he’d go anywhere, anyway.

You grab a hanger from inside your closet and scurry off down the hall to the bathroom. For the first time, Vernon feels like he can actually breathe. He drops his phone onto the comforter between his crossed legs and cradles his head in his hands, telling himself that he needs to get it together. You’ve never not liked anything he’s given you, and you’ve known him now for more birthdays than you haven’t.

Your friends said you’d love it. So did your mother, with a sparkle in her eye as she held it delicately in her fingers. He has nothing to worry about. It’s only you.

And yet—

“You’ll be honest if it looks bad?” You call from the other side of the door, interrupting how his lips move wordlessly in an endless mantra of self-reassurances.

Vernon snaps his head up and he clears his throat, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “Aren’t I always?” He answers.

You click your tongue, evidently disagreeing, but you pull the handle and take a step into the room anyway. When you see him, he looks exactly as he did when you left, no trace of his anxieties anywhere to be seen on his face or otherwise.

When he sees you, he feels like the world could end any moment and he’d be okay with that.

His mouth runs dry and his eyes seem to be stuck open, unblinking, fixated on you in your all black outfit as you stand still as a statue with your hands behind your back. You cough quietly, waiting for some kind of a response other than a dumb stare, but it doesn’t come.

Eight seconds later… still nothing.

“Do you hate it?” you fret, because Vernon is a very good hype-man and you’ve never known him struggle to find something positive to say. “All right, uh— okay—”

“No!” He rushes, almost shouting in his urgency to assure you that that’s not the case at all. He scrambles up to his feet, taking a breath, and pushes a hand through his hair. He’s been growing it out lately, and he kind of hates how his fingers catch on a tangle even though he brushed it meticulously before he left his apartment. You keep telling him it looks good, though, so he hasn’t been to get it cut. “God, no. I’m sorry. You look amazing.”

It doesn’t sound like much to the untrained ear, but the warmth of his compliments comes less in the words he says and more in the sincerity he says them with. Your face softens, and Vernon can see the way the thoughts of changing into something else fizzle out behind your eyes. He takes a backwards step to try and tempt you further into your own bedroom, and you move in tandem with him, closing that space and coming better into the light.

“Wow,” he says, swallowing hard and looking you up and down. “I-… wow.”

It’s your turn to clam up, now. You look down at the floor, kicking at the carpet with your toes. “Shut up,” you say. “I’m not...”

“Yes, you are,” he protests, leaving no room for argument as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t know who you’re trying to impress but… yeah, it’s gonna work.”

You walk past him with a scoff, barging against his shoulder on your way; he dramatically staggers to the side, rubbing at the impact site, laughing. When he faces you again, you’ve picked the gift up from the end of your bed and are moving to sit on the mattress yourself. Your eyes flicker between Vernon and the empty space in front of you. He takes the hint, settling back down with one foot tucked beneath him, the other still planted on your rug.

His heart shoots back up into his throat and he stares down at the box, licking over his lips and frowning at how dry they feel. He glances away, lifting a hand to his mouth, running his fingertips over his lips. What would they feel like pressed against yours? He thinks, and then he cringes again.

You misread his reaction and hesitate with your finger pressed underneath a strip of tape, tilting your head at him. “What’s going to jump out at me when I open this?”

“Nothing,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. “What do you take me for?”

“The kind of guy who puts glitter in birthday cards because he thinks it’s funny,” you retort, earning a click of his tongue.

“That was one time!”

“One time too many.”

“I swear,” he laughs, tight shoulders easing, both hands falling to his lap. “No sparkles, no loud noises, nothing jumpy. Cross my heart.“

You eye him a little suspiciously but eventually tug your finger beneath the wrapping and make the first rip in the paper, allowing you to tear into the gift after keeping Vernon on edge for almost an hour and a half. You peel it away and it falls to the bedsheets, in your hands now a small, square box not too dissimilar a shade to your comforter. You look from it, to him, and he thinks you notice how his cheeks are a little darker than they were before.

He nods at you once and you slowly pull it open. On a plush, velvety bedding sits an elegant, dainty bracelet. A small gemstone is set in the metal of the bar in the middle of the chain. You skim a thumb over it, your breath held.

“Vernon,” you murmur, tearing your eyes away from the bracelet to look at him. Now, even the tips of his ears have grown flushed, but you’re kind enough not to comment on it to avoid spoiling the moment you’re in. “This is…”

“The lady in the store said it was your birthstone,” he says, twiddling his thumbs. “I mean… I’m really just taking her word for it, ‘cause they all look the same to me, but—”

He’s interrupted as all of your weight topples against him, arms thrown around his neck in a hug. He hesitates a moment before he wraps his own around your waist, drops his head to your shoulder and he smiles wider than he thinks he ever has. “Happy Birthday,” he says, dragging his thumb up and down over your hip.

“Silly,” you scold him playfully, still pressing wholly against him and showing no signs of moving. Your voice sounds thick, a little like you’re tearing up, so Vernon squeezes you tighter.

“I know you are,” he chuckles. “But what am I?”

You swallow hard, finally now pulling away from the hug but sitting entirely too close for comfort, one knee pressing into the outside of his thigh.

Your surprise attack has left him dishevelled. With a quiet apology, your fingers innocently try to smooth everything back into place, but Vernon doesn’t hear you say you’re sorry. His pulse, thundering in his ears, drowns it out while also skipping a beat with each little touch. You’re not looking into his eyes as you shyly put him back to rights, too busy working to tame his — at the best of times — unruly hair.

He’s looking into yours though, and he can’t stop.

Your eyes, which dart all over to find strands out of place, so your hands can move them to where they ought to sit and lay them down flat. Your eyes, that drop down the length of his throat as you realign the neck of his t-shirt over his broad shoulders.

Your eyes: the ones crinkled at the corners as you pick the bracelet back up from your bed and admire it under your bedroom light. Your eyes, landing on his, finally, in a silent plea for help.

“The best?” you answer, now, extending your wrist to ask him to put it on you. He takes the chain from your fingers and unclasps it, slipping it beneath your hand and holding it in place.

“I know you are,” he says again, but it’s quieter now as he concentrates on trying to reconnect the two pieces. “But what am I?”

When he successfully fastens your gift onto your arm, he looks up to see your watery eyes still staring down at it. He decides this is the time to reveal part two of the surprise. Pulling up the sleeve of his t-shirt, he reveals his own wrist to you, and you now see there’s a matching chain hanging off it. A little stone set in the metal. His stone, presumably. You choke out a laugh around your tears, shaking your head.

“You got us friendship bracelets,” you giggle, holding your hand next to his and admiring them together. Your skin touches and he feels butterflies erupt in his stomach, which he hasn’t felt around you since…

He nods, breathing a chuckle too. “Yeah,” he says. His heart is pounding. “I guess I did. Is… that okay?”

“I love them,” you insist, leaning forward to affectionately press your lips to his cheek. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Your doorbell sounds downstairs and Vernon’s words die in his throat. Maybe that’s for the best, though; he’s got so much nervous energy rising up inside him and he’s scared it might accidentally force up something he’ll regret saying. You spring off the bed again, fussing in the mirror, and he watches you rush out the bedroom warbling about how you’re not ready for anyone to be here yet. It’s too early. What’s going on? Who is it?

He shifts his legs so both his feet are planted on the floor, letting out a breath he doesn’t remember sucking in.

I love them. Thank you, you said.

It’s perfect.

He groans when he stands up, too, tugging his sleeve back down as he starts to follow after you.

“I know you are,” he mumbles under his breath, hearing your relieved laughter at it just being the FedEx man on your doorstep. It makes him feel warm. Everywhere. “But what am I?”

Five hours later, Vernon is seeing double.

He has Seungkwan’s hands massaging the tops of his shoulders and there are two Juns sitting across from him at your dining table. He remembers feeling fine around 9pm, distinctly: like nothing he drank was having any kind of effect on him. Like he could walk home on his hands — like he was invincible. Now, after spending exactly five minutes out in the fresh air, he’s blinking four times for every breath he takes and his friends’ voices keep phasing in and out of focus.

“But what if they’re not?” Vernon stresses for the eighth time, fingers clumsily peeling at the label on his bottle.

“And what if they are?” Jun tries. Again. Also, for the eighth time, because apparently when Vernon gets tipsy, his skull gets really really thick and nothing in the world can penetrate it. “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

Vernon shakes his head, sitting back so heavily that his chair tips and he sends Seungkwan stumbling into the wall behind them. His friend gives up trying to rub the stupid out of him and settles into the chair at Vernon’s side instead.

“I don’t know-…”

“If you’re about to say you don’t know what you’ll do if it isn’t them, I’m putting you in an Uber and sending you home.” Seungkwan claps his hand down onto Vernon’s knee for good measure. “It’s not even been a day.”

Vernon groans, threading his fingers into his hair and tipping his head back. “It hasn’t, though,” he whines. “What if it’s been like this since… and I just kept ignoring…”

Jun and Seungkwan exchange a look. An exhausted one. They both know Vernon turns into a complete baby when he’s had a drink and can just about manage a trip to the bathroom without somebody holding his hand, but neither of them have seen him like this before. Neither of them want to see him like this ever again.

Hell, neither of them want to be dealing with him like this right now.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Jun’s (remarkably) calm voice repeats as he pushes up from his seat and glances towards the doorway. His ears lock onto a voice just beyond it, and in an instant, the older man recognises his chance at an exit. He casts an apologetic glance at Seungkwan, who has resorted to rubbing Vernon’s earlobes to try and get him to stop stressing, and he dips out before either of them can argue.

On his way, though, he throws in a sly little remark. One that raises Vernon’s– and Seungkwan’s– blood pressure to a level that would get them prescribed a week of strict bed rest.

“Besides – everyone can see the two of you were practically made for each other.”

Vernon whips around to face Seungkwan with shock written into every line of his face. It paints perfect full-signal WiFi creases on his forehead; it makes his jaw hang loose.

“I– what?” Vernon splutters, shooting a hand to the back of his head. Seungkwan hasn’t taken his eyes off the doorway since Jun slipped through it. Vernon doesn’t notice the fact that his older friend’s full genetic line is currently being cursed out. “What does he mean?”

“You don’t have to do anything tonight,” Seungkwan tries, now acutely aware of the fact that Jun has just given Vernon a nudge he should never have. There’s a fine line between bolstering a friend and straight-up causing chaos. This could get messy. Seungkwan doesn’t like messy.

But… It's too late.

Before Seungkwan can wrangle him back into his seat, Vernon has broken away from the table and is on the hunt for you. Seungkwan follows behind, doing his best to summon Vernon back, but he can’t. He’s on a mission now. And maybe that mission involves giving in to the thing that eats away at his brain when he should be waist-deep in music theory assignments. Maybe that mission is to finally, after two years, know what it feels like to kiss you. He’s going to find you, so help him God. He has to.

And yes. He does. He finds you, eventually. As soon as he reaches the top of the staircase, there you are.

Being pressed into the wood of your bedroom door, wrapped up in the arms of some pretentious looking art student in an oversized button-down and baggy, ripped jeans. Your mouth is covered by theirs, your fingers are threaded through those glossy fucking locks, both of you are laughing breathlessly as you drop one hand and it fumbles blindly to reach for the doorknob.

Vernon spins away, turning his back as he hears the door click. At this exact moment, Seungkwan comes stumbling up the stairs too and plants his forehead into Vernon’s sternum.

But his good friend’s skull is not the only thing Vernon is struck with, not the only thing knocking the wind out of him.

Simultaneously, he’s swept up with the sobering realisations that either this guy is your soulmate, or you’re not the same person you were when you were nineteen.

It’s eleven o’clock and two years later when he hears your secret knock on his apartment door.

Maybe it’s luck. Maybe it’s fate. He only took his noise cancelling headphones off a few minutes ago before he washed up and settled into bed; his head has hardly even had time to make a dent in the pillows. But whichever force is at play, the thing that matters is that he hears you and he knows it’s you, straight away. He doesn’t remember how it started, exactly. He thinks it might have been while he was in his exam-season hermit stage in his first year of university and refused to come to the door unless it was something important.

You’ve been knocking the same way for years now though, and he slides out of bed with creased brows at how desperate your fist sounds as it pounds against the wood. He pulls on an old t-shirt and perhaps the loosest fitting pair of shorts anyone’s ever owned, at least making himself decent before he answers. He’s still tying the drawstring when he gets to the door.

When he looks through the peep-hole to make sure he’s right, you’re drying your eyes on the back of your sweatshirt sleeve. You’re shivering quite violently, and you’ve got a bag on your shoulder that’s weighing you down on one side. Vernon’s heart sinks. He unbolts the door, pulling it open just as you lift your hand to knock again; your knuckles punch the air between you as your eyes land on him, and your bottom lip wobbles in despair.

You fall into his chest with a sob. Tears start to soak their way through his shirt until it clings to the skin underneath.

“Hey,” he soothes you, locking his arms so tight around you that there’s a strong chance they’re the only thing holding you upright.

“I didn’t— know where else to go—” you choke out, your arm trapped between your chest and his as he rests his head on top of yours and pats your back softly. “I’m s-”

“Don’t you dare,” he murmurs, tilting his chin down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. “It’s okay. I’m here. You can always come to me.”

He holds you until your shakes start to subside, trying to talk you through whatever this is with soft reassurances and gentle shushing sounds. When you pull back from him, Vernon guides you into his apartment, flicking on the lamp in his living room so he can see to settle you down on his couch. He throws a blanket over your legs before he sits down himself, pulling your hand into his lap and holding it between both of his own, his thumb moving absently over your knuckles. You’re still crying, but when you shuffle against the seat to be a little more comfortable and finally turn to face him, he finds his voice long enough to ask you what happened.

“He kissed— kissed someone else,” you tell him, sniffling and shaking your head.

His blood reaches boiling point in what must be record time and he knows he accidentally starts to grip your hand tighter, but he can’t stop.

“He what?”

Vernon knows this guy wasn’t your soulmate. You told him, a few days after your birthday. You said everything was still black and white when you pulled back from the first of — what you spared no detail in explaining was — many, many, many kisses with him that evening. But you didn’t care. Not then, and not for the whole time you’ve been together.

He asked you about it once. About four months in (when he figured things were starting to get serious), late at night, if it bothered you. Whether you were going to keep seeing him. If you still thought about finding your soulmate. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget what your replying message said.

I mean, sure, I’m curious. But maybe I don’t need to see in colour. I think being in love is enough :)

So… you were in love.

With someone who wasn’t him.

He didn’t speak to anyone — not even you — for two whole days after that. He felt like he’d gone ten rounds with a peak-form George Foreman. He felt like he’d never be able to get rid of the pit that had developed in the depths of his gut. He couldn’t sleep, he could barely eat, he couldn’t focus: it was the worst he’d ever felt. And, well… Vernon knew it was immature. He knew he was acting like a child. If he could’ve shaken it off, the way he’s always done with so many of the things in his life that have bothered him, he’d have loved to. But he couldn’t.

Besides. Only about four people noticed his silence, anyway. You weren’t one of them; your boyfriend was keeping you plenty busy.

“He went to a club and got completely wasted and he— he—” you say, squeezing his hand even tighter than he’s holding yours. “But-… he says he-…” Hiccup. “Everything. Straight away — his…”

You don’t need to say it out loud; if anything, he’s a little disgusted with himself that he didn’t figure this out sooner. “His soulmate,” Vernon ruefully finishes for you. He groans the words out, feeling rotten to his core. “I’m so sorry…”

Your shoulders start to shake and he wastes no time in pulling you sideways against him, both his arms locked around you again, just like before.

“It’s so stupid,” you cry, laughing emptily. His stomach turns; he hates this. Your anguish is an assault on his eardrums, especially when he’s got you so close, but he tries so hard not to flinch, not to move away. You need him, no matter how agonised it makes him feel. “I knew he wasn’t mine, but I thought-…”

Your voice fades away to nothing. You shake your head.

“You thought he was happy the same way you were,” he finishes again. You just nod, sobbing harder. “That's not—… stop saying the way you feel is stupid.”

Vernon doesn’t understand how that loser could ever not have been happy with you. How could he dream about going out in search of something more? Hell, Vernon doesn’t think there’s a soul alive better than you — how could anyone stand to just throw you away?

He wonders briefly if you can hear his heartbeat, thundering in his chest with the rage he feels all the way into his bones. You’ve always told him that you admire how chilled out, how collected he is, but Vernon has never felt less calm in his entire life. It’s only as he acknowledges that he has no right to feel like this, that he takes a few deep breaths in an attempt to bring his fever down. You mimic him, trying to do the same, and by the time his pulse starts to settle, you’re back to just sniffling against his shoulder.

“Stay the night here,” he tells you. It isn’t a suggestion, or really even a request. It’s an order. There’s no room for negotiation. “We’ll go get your things in the morning. I’ll be right there with you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Vernon gets there before you do. Before you can protest the offers he’s made. Before you can ask him if he’s sure. He knows you, a little too well: he knows these are the words that are going to come out of your mouth next. “I’m with you, okay? Always.”

You sit back from him with a quiet chuckle, wiping your eyes again on your damp sleeve. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” you murmur. “You’re the best— the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He just rolls his eyes at you and shakes his head, standing up from the couch. (I know you are, he thinks. This isn’t the time for jokes, though.) He wishes you knew what you mean to him; how, in his eyes, you deserve the world, presented to you on a shining silver platter. Wishes you knew that he’d give it to you if thought he could carry it.

“Go wash up,” he says, ignoring the ache in his chest at the way your watery lashes flutter when you look up at him. “I’ll find you something to sleep in.”

He locates a spare toothbrush from a travelling kit he’s never used and sets a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants on the heated towel rail, leaving you alone in the bathroom to go about your business. You emerge some fifteen minutes later to find Vernon perched on the edge of his bed, scrolling through an app on his phone. He can’t help but swallow at the way his clothes fit you. How the steam from your shower clings to your skin, casts a heavenly haze around you. He hopes it isn’t obvious. This is about more than his dumb little crush.

“Were you asleep?” You ask him, nodding towards his comforter, still pushed back on one side. He turns to glance over his shoulder, following the line of your sight, before he looks back at you and shakes his head.

“Not even close,” he says. “I’d just got into bed when you got here.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. Vernon doesn't think you look totally convinced, but he can’t force you to believe him, even if it is the truth.

It’s unspoken but accepted that you'll sleep in the bed with him; he’s never let you stay on his couch when you spend the night, and you never agree to displacing him even though he always tries to insist he doesn’t mind. You’ve been friends for enough time now that it’ll never be weird to crawl beneath the sheets with him, anyway. At first, he didn’t really like sharing (he’s a bit… particular with how he sleeps, after all), but he got used to your weight on the mattress beside him quite quickly and makes a point to say he always sleeps better with you.

He hasn’t curled up next to you for the night in over two years. It’s awful, that that’s what he thinks about now as he turns off the lights and you settle down, shuffling under the comforter until he slides in next to you in the dark and you can lay your head on his chest. He knows it’s selfish. He thinks it probably makes him a bad person, too.

“Do you think—” you start to say, cut off by a long, vocal yawn. Your breath feels so warm through his t-shirt. “If you fall out of love with them… do the colours go away?”

With his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling he can’t even see, Vernon feels his heart shatter beneath the soft cushion of your cheek. He’s suddenly grateful he’s still fully clothed, as if the cotton barrier is the only thing stopping you from getting scratched by the splinters beneath his skin. He wonders if you hear it. It would be an easier explanation for why he doesn’t say anything than whatever his mouth could come up with, that’s for sure.

“I don’t know,” he says after a few seconds too long. The arm wrapped around your shoulders slips down to your waist and he squeezes you. Briefly, he wonders if it can force your broken pieces back together.

Vernon knows he would never do this to you. He’d never hurt you this way. Out of everyone he’s ever met, he thinks you’re the sweetest, the kindest, the most thoughtful of them all. The last person he’d ever wish a heartbreak upon. He even used to joke that he’d go to war with anyone who dared to try.

But now he’s seeing it happen? He feels as if he really could.

“I just hope you never have to find out,” he follows up, blinking back the thoughts that start to bubble away as your breaths slow down.

He wrapped a band-aid around your finger when you got a papercut once and you asked him, then, if he would kiss it better.

When you bumped your head in the playground, the same.

He’d kiss it all better now too, if he could. He’d show you how you deserve to be loved.

And he doesn’t just think it, anymore; Vernon knows that this makes him a terrible person.

“I hope you don’t, either,” you mumble back. “... and I hope we find them soon.”

He’s so proud of you.

Okay, it never took much. He’s been proud of you for every good grade you’ve ever achieved, every doctor's appointment you booked for yourself, every trip to the dentist you stressed over. He’s been proud of you for finishing projects you were struggling with. Proud of you for learning new recipes. For every milestone, personal or professional, it’s the first thing he makes sure to say.

[ hey, look at u go!!! proud of u :) ]

Now? He’s seen you crawl from rock bottom to the top of the world. It hasn’t been easy. There have been hurdles and barriers and sometimes, sixty foot high walls you’ve had to climb up and over, but you’ve done it. You’re thriving. Every time he looks at you, these days, if you’re not wearing a smile there are at least traces of one in your eyes, on your face, in your voice. Happiness suits you, and he’s so, so proud of you for getting here.

He knows you’re doing better, because between Christmas and New Year, you asked him if he wanted to come to a party with you. At first, he wasn’t sure; the holidays left his wallet feeling a little light and he’s been on a really good streak of not drinking anything lately, but when you promised that you’d stay sober too, he kind of couldn’t say no.

[ i just wanna see in the new year with my favourite person ever <3 ]

[ ha. flattery will get u everywhere ]

So here he finds himself, out in the backyard of somebody he’s never met, a can of Coke in one hand and your gloved fingers holding tightly onto the other. You dragged him outside at five minutes to midnight and — though he doesn’t know why — you decided you didn’t want to let go. Vernon certainly wasn’t going to be the one to make you. Your warmth down his left side is settling the slight unease he’s felt all evening while also making him feel tipsier than he’s ever been under the influence of any amount of soju; he thinks maybe this should scare him, but he’s just… so glad he came.

With sixty seconds until the clock strikes twelve, somebody stands up on top of the picnic table in the yard and starts to try and coordinate a countdown. With forty-five, Vernon squeezes your hand, butterflies where his stomach ought to be. With thirty, he takes a long drain of his drink, finishing it as if it’ll give him some courage, maybe, or… he doesn’t know. Zero sugar, zero caffeine — there’s no logic behind his process, just a lot of bubbles and artificially sweetened syrup. All the same, he crushes the can against his thigh and slips it into his pocket to throw away later. That alone relieves a bit of his adrenaline.

Not enough, but some.

With ten seconds remaining, the first shout drowns out the white noise in his ears, the chaos of his thoughts. 10. He joins them. So do you. 9. 8. Your voice is the loudest, the most excited sounding. You want this year to be over. You want the rest of your life to begin.

7. 6. 5.

The crackers are set. Flames dance at the end of the garden on fire lighters, ready to send rockets shooting into the sky.

Some people here are going to see them as they truly are. Brilliant and vibrant and colourful against the black canvas of the midnight sky. Vernon won’t. Neither will you. But what was it you said to him once?

4. 3.

Maybe I don’t need to see in colour.

For the first time, he thinks he agrees. The feeling of loving you, even if he never knows green from red, blue from orange? He doesn’t care. He has you. He loves you. That’s enough.

Happy New Year.

As if dawn has broken early, the world becomes impossibly bright, pyrotechnics bursting not only over your own heads but everywhere, as far as his eyes can see. After the first few, he permits himself a glance over at your face: there are tears running down it, and his heart stutters, but then he hears you laugh. Brightly, wetly, more resonant than any of the booms and crackles and cheers he can feel all the way down to his toes.

For whatever reason, Vernon starts laughing with you.

You pull him closer into a bone-crushing hug and blink your damp lashes against the side of his neck. “Thank you for being here with me,” you say to him, practically shouting to be heard. “I love you so much.”

“I’m always gonna be with you,” he says as you pull back a little. Your arms are still around him. The chain of the bracelet he bought you all those years ago is bitterly cold against the back of his neck. He can’t feel his fingers anymore, all he knows is that they’re resting on the curve of your spine. He thinks he can see something in the way you look at him, so softly and tenderly and yet, in the twitch of your brow…

Like you’re searching for something that might not be there.

He knows his gaze moves in a perfect triangle — from your left eye, to your slightly parted, wind-chapped lips, to your right. He knows he stops breathing. He swears you do, too. Something builds — a spark catches, an energy festers, egged on by the curious murmurs of the people around you.

You could do it, his brain tells him.

So what if he’s a few minutes late for it to be traditional? Does it really matter?

But he’s reminded, again, this time with a whizz and a boom and a crackle, that you aren’t his to have this way. His storybook moment fizzles out, the final firework bursting into sparkles overhead. He sees every one of your perfect features brighten in wonder as you tilt your head back to look up at it. Sees it beautifully reflected in your glassy eyes. He has about enough time to commit the image to memory before you clear your throat and finally step away from him, losing all touch for the first time since you came outside.

One of your friends comes and pulls you into an embrace, before passing you along to someone else, and then someone else again. He loses you in the crowd that rushes to get back in the warm, but he makes no effort to move with them. He just stays out in the dark for a while with his own thoughts for company, shoving his frigid hands into the pockets of his jeans.

He’s happy, though. It’s like you said.

Being in love is enough.

“There’s just one more thing,” you say as the waitress returns with your bank card and a receipt. Vernon slides you a look as he stands, picking up his jacket from the back of the chair he’s been sitting in.

He shakes his head at you. “Whatever it is, it better not be edible,” he laughs. “I think this is the most full I’ve ever been.”

In other words, you’ve done enough already. Stop spending money on me. Please. Thankfully, your final surprise is in-keeping with his unspoken rule.

His birthday rolled around way too quickly. The start of the year has been so chaotically busy; you swear, you’ve hardly seen him since he dropped you off home after the party. You moved out of your parents’ house for the second time a few weeks ago and settling in, unpacking boxes, sorting through clothes and belongings and trinkets has taken you much longer than you care to admit. You’ve been busy at work, too. So has he. Your social calendars have barely lined up at all.

But you were determined to make plenty of time for him on his birthday.

To Vernon, this has always just been another day. He’s never cared too much about big celebrations: as long as he can spend some time with people he cares about, he’s happy, and this year he’s managed exactly that. He saw his family this morning, had some friends drop by his apartment later in the day, and now, he’s with you.

You’ve never been great at the laid-back approach, though. Not with him. How could you be, when he does so much for you, always without even batting an eye? When he deserves to be doted on, and adored, and thoroughly spoiled? It’s the same every year. You make a fuss, he playfully scolds you for it; you and he are creatures of habit. It’ll probably never change.

This year, you invited him to your new place to open the gifts you’d bought him: the new speaker he kept saying he couldn’t justify buying, a record he looked at in the store a few months ago but never bought, a sweatshirt to replace the one you stole off him on New Years Eve. Some candies he likes. Then, after he finally stopped pouting and sighing that you really didn’t need to go to all this effort, you took him out for dinner, making a reservation for two at his favourite restaurant.

The pouting continued.

Only up until your appetisers came out, though. The moment your food was placed down in front of you, his eyes doubled in size and his lips became a little too busy to stay pursed. Your own dinner almost went cold with how fondly you sat and watched him. This year, you even spared Vernon the embarrassment of having the restaurant staff sing at the side of your table.

All right, you have an ulterior motive, but… it’s the thought that counts, right?

He holds the door open for you now as you thank the waitress who served you one last time and without him lowering his arm, you step into place beneath it. Tucked up into Vernon’s side, you’re as happy as you’ve ever been. Nervous, too, but… you have a good feeling.

“Where to?” He asks as you fall into step together.

“This way.”

You emerge from the shelter of the canopy outside the restaurant’s front door and immediately feel the cool tickle of a snowflake landing on your cheek. They started to fall while you were eating and Vernon couldn’t stop watching through the window, small specks that grew over the hour into big clumps that tumbled towards the ground. He’s always loved the snow, and there’s no real destination for this gift, anyway. You guide him to the left and watch as peace takes its rightful home on his beautiful features.

“We’ve walked in a perfect square three times now,” Vernon says after a little while of meandering about in the dark, making comfortable small talk and laughing as the champagne bubbles in your stomachs continue to fizz away. “Where are we supposed to be going?”

You wondered how long it was going to take him to notice, or even if he was going to realise at all. Looking up and down the street you’re on, you stop in your tracks, standing beneath the same flickering street lamp that you’ve passed twice already. Your footprints trail both behind and in front of you, neither quite covered yet by the snowfall. You break into a laugh when you notice that the convenience store on your left has closed since the last time you came down this road.

“I can get a map open, if…” Vernon starts, reaching into his pocket. You stop him, stepping out from under his arm and wrapping your hand around his wrist instead.

“I might’ve told a little white lie,” you confess,

He halts with his phone only half pulled out, pushing it into his hip for fear of it falling if either of you let go. “What do you mean?” He asks.

You know he’s probably thinking back to your earlier conversations, trying to figure out which part exactly is the mistruth you’re now admitting to. But whether he gets there on his own or not, he waits for you to answer.

“I had it with me this whole time,” you explain, readjusting your hold on his covered forearm. His eyes dart downwards, looking at the site of contact, but he quickly lifts them back up to your face. “I was just… waiting for… ”

“What are you talking about?” Vernon asks.

“Close your eyes.”

You know.

Unfortunately for your best friend, as hush-hush as he’s managed to be all this time, the same can’t be said for the other person he entrusts all his secrets to. A few weeks ago, when you’d called Seungkwan to coordinate timings for Vernon’s birthday plans, he’d accidentally let something slip. It was your suggestion of taking Vernon to dinner that did the trick.

“Oh, he’s going to love that,” Seungkwan had gushed. You could hear the breadth of his smile down the phone and felt yourself growing hot at the compliment.

“You really think so?”

“Pfft. You could take him to the Eiffel Tower or to a drive-through KFC, and he’d still have hearts in his eyes – because it’s you.”

Of course, he attempted to do some damage control immediately after. Make out that he meant it in strictly platonic terms. But once the idea planted itself in your head, it sort of… made sense. You mulled it over for a couple of days but when you finally asked Seungkwan, deathly serious, if he really thought you stood a chance with Vernon?

He practically screamed ‘yes’ down the phone.

“The last time you asked me to do this, you killed me at laser-tag,” Vernon says, narrowing his eyes. He surely doesn’t think you’re hiding a plastic gun underneath the coat he literally just watched you don, but he doesn’t do as you ask and you suck your front teeth at him.

“Luckily for you, I left all my weapons at home,” you counter. “Come on, please. Just… trust me.”

“Said that last time, too,” he snickers. But, to his merit, he finally does it. He takes in a breath and follows your instruction. “I swear to God…”

Selfishly, you take a moment to bask in how handsome he really is. His eyes twitch underneath his lids and snowflakes cling to his lashes, moving with them. It’s in his hair, too. On his shoulders. Melting on his cheeks, leaving small wet spots on his face. One lands perfectly on the tip of his nose. You would immortalise this moment, if you could.

It made sense, when you found out, because thinking back? Nobody has ever loved you how Vernon does. He shows it in so many ways – he sends you the songs that he hears and thinks you’ll like, the pretty photographs that he takes when he’s away for work, some variant of a ‘good morning’ text, almost every day. He massages your shoulders, lets you fall asleep on his lap, follows you around like an obedient puppy when you have errands to run just so you don’t have to do them on your own.

He tries, and often fails, to cook you breakfast when you stay over. He brings you coffees, or lunch. He looks at you like you’re the moon and the stars. People have teased for years that you could be psychically connected. That you were cosmically united. That it was fate for Vernon to move into the house down the street from you when you were nine. To be the only other child your age on the block.

Two people, perfect for one another, lives intertwined eternally by fate. Or, in other words…

“Are you…?” He asks, breaking the quiet that has only been filled with your cloud-forming breaths.

“Give me a second,” you breathe. There’s no doubt in your mind.

You lean forward to kiss him softly, free hand settling against the side of his neck. In the February chill, Vernon freezes, no part of his body reacting to you except for his lips. Though they twitch in a gasp, they press back against yours as if he isn’t even thinking about doing it. As if it’s instinctual. As if he was always supposed to kiss you – as if he’s your…

There it all is, when you finally pull away.

Brown eyes, framed by fluttering lashes that untangle from one another to finally see you, too. Brown, you know, because when you asked your mother to tell you about Vernon’s colours when you were younger, that was the only one she told you, saying everything else might change when he got older. Warm, brown eyes. Glistening with every blink, blink, blink of the bulb above you. Pupils slowly dilating, drowning the colours out of view. You see his lids shoot wide as he realises, as he glances left and right, as he takes this new world in for the first time, too.

“I knew it,” you say on a stuttered breath, so overwhelmed you could cry. “My soulmate.”

A brilliant smile threatens to split Vernon’s features in two as he cups your cheeks and pulls you back to him, kissing you again, and again, and again.

“I know you are,” he says against your lips, his bare thumbs pink and cold as they press into your skin. And, before you can kiss him quiet – “but what ‘m I?”

thank u so much for reading, i really hope you enjoyed this. as always, your likes/reblogs/comments and feedback are always deeply appreciated.<3

#vernon fluff #vernon x reader #vernon chwe fluff #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #hansol x reader #hansol fluff #kpop fluff #j writes.#*#so nervous ab posting this. anyway. i wrote this for meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee and my deluded ass is gonna go jump in a hole now GOODBYE <3 #vernon fanfic

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petrawood · 5 months ago

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I saw someone post a tweet about how a lot of people in the Inquisition must have suspected that something was off about Solas, and out of all of them Bull knew that there was something fishy going on for SURE but the scope of the whole thing was just too big for him to have guessed exactly what was going on.

So, that made me think how the whole reveal must have been like if it actually happened in our world and oh my god it's SO ridiculous.

Btw, this is obviously OOC, but it's just. Solas makes SUCH a character oh my god.

---

Imagine you are an Interpol agent that joins the CIA for this one very important and very specific mission. Everyone knows that you work for another organization and you are a trained and highly competent agent, but the situation is so dire that the CIA is basically hiring everyone who could help.

So, there is this one very weird guy.

He wears an old hoodie and yoga pants. When asked where he came from, he tells you that he is into outdoor living, so just "outside, you know, somewhere". He has no qualifications apart from being a skilled hacker and really really really good at navigating the Deep Web. In fact, he's an expert at it, to the point of being the Deep Web specialist of the team. He walks around BAREFOOT.

He is a WEIRDO.

You assume he is just some guy probably over his head, pretty helpful but that's kinda it. You are going to keep an eye on him anyway, as you keep an eye on most people.

And suddenly, things start no adding up.

You ask him how he learned to hack into the deep web and he answers that he just likes sleeping under bridges and there is very good internet connection there, so he ended up learning. He doesn't elaborate.

For a guy that spends all his time sleeping on the floor and hunched over a computer, you notice that he is actually BUILT. You cannot tell over the oversized hoodie, but that guy has muscle. Once it comes up, he looks you in the eyes and tells you that that's just normal when you live in the outside like him.

You need somebody to pilot an helicopter. He knows how to pilot an helicopter. "Oh, I just watched a video tutorial. You know, in the Deep Web".

You need to steal some nuclear codes. "Oh I know how to cancel those nuclear codes. I found a lot of documents explaining how to do it. You know, in the Deep Web".

You need to plan a coup. "Oh yeah I know all about backstabbing politics. I found a list of all the relevant politicians and the country's corrupt history. You know, in the deep web"

You are in the middle of said backstabbing and he's slightly tipsy looking fondly at the whole thing like "oh how I missed the vibe of a nepotist state. No one throws a party like corrupted politicians- Not that I've been in one before, of course. I've only seen videos. You know, in the deep web"

He drives the other two expert hackers out of their minds. "I don't know how you managed to get this position, you don't even have a Doctorate" "Doctorates are overrated, I think you all would do better if you came to vibe under a bridge like me"

He actually is OBSESSED with overthrowing institutions.

The hackers tear him a new one because they find his Hacker Drip lacking (fair). And he smells like Cheetos.

"I made a lot of friends on the Deep Web forums"

At this point you are convinced that this guy HAS to have something else going on. There is simply NO way someone would know so many things from his deep web premium access under a bridge.

Your best bet has to be that he's another secret agent, a very highly trained one at that, right? Or maybe a highcore antifa member? He either has inside information of the CIA or he's looking for it. But he has been ridiculous helpful so far, so you just can't tell what he's hiding and why.

And then one day guy, this FUCKING guy.

He shows up and tells your Boss that he's actually the ancient god Loki from the Nordic pantheon. That he created death, but is sorry so he's actually going to join the Earth with Heaven and Hell. A lot of people would die because of the Demons and you know, Earth as it is not existing anymore, but that's a sacrifice he's willing to make.

Now tell me, how the FUCK were you supposed to guess THAT.

#solas dragon age #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #solas #iron bull #This is a hahaha funny post that I wrote in one go so sorry for the mess and the inaccuracies!#I hope y'all have a laugh at least

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hottiesforhockey · 1 month ago

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may the best brother win pt. 2 ⎜hughes brothers

pairings: quinn hughes x afab!reader ⎜luke hughes x afab!reader ⎜ jack hughes x afab!reader ⎜ genre: romance ⎜bachelorette-esque situations ⎜angst? ⎜friends - to - lovers warnings: awkwardness between reader and Jack⎜mentions of a bet / competition⎜friendly love-hate relationship ⎜luke being a cutie patootie ⎜luke's love language is very much physical touch ⎜ kissing with mild heavy petting ⎜jack's kind of an asshole in this one ⎜miscommunication ⎜ synopsis: you have been friends with the hughes brothers for years - but why does this summer feel so different? word count: 5.1k authors note: this is luke's chapter - I've always seen things saying that luke is super sweet and shy but really playful with people he knows so I kinda went with that for this story - anyway I hope you all enjoy! (p.s. i will be posting chapter aesthetic pics at the bottom so you can get an idea of what I was picturing :) )

(unedited)

“You look like you’ve been kissed.” Lukes voice carries through your bedroom, as you stand in front of your vanity mirror, trying to braid your hair to avoid it getting stuck to you with sweat overnight.

“Huh?” You question, turning around too quick to be casual to look at the long legged boy sprawling himself across your bed.

“Your lips are a little swollen?” Luke continues, trying to play oblivious to the nerve he was hitting with his words.

“Didn’t know you pay so much attention to my lips, Lukey.” You hiss back, turning back towards the mirror watching him in the reflection. You stick your tongue out at him, a quirk of his lips brightening the atmosphere as he leans forwards, his elbows pressing into his thighs.

“So how’d the date go? You both came back in a bit of a weird mood.” Luke notes, his eyes catching the small twitch of your jaw as you clench and unclench thinking of what to respond with, “Did something happen between you two?” He adds, goading you for a reaction.

“The date was nice.” You say softly, finishing the second braid and tying it off with a hair band before turning around to face the intruder. “He’s very serious about this bet thought, so you better have something good planned.” Your snark surprises Luke as you walk around to the other side of the bed, slipping onto the mattress besides him.

“He did kiss you didn’t he?” Luke’s smile is outrageously large as you cover your face with your hands, already feeling the tips of your ears burning.

“Don’t say anything.” You snap, letting out a long groan into your hands as the tingle returns to your lips - the featherlight feeling of Jack’s lips still lingering. “It was spur of the moment, it didn’t really mean anything.” You admit - the memory of Jacks joking comment playing through your head on repeat.

“Does Jack feel that way?” Luke asks, his question, making your turn your head in your hands, just peeking over at him from the corner of your eyes.

“I mean he said and I quote ‘if I don’t win this competition, I’m gonna say it’s rigged’, so I don’t really think feelings were on his mind.” You say, trying to do your best Jack impression, your voice mockingly low as you recall his words. Luke winces as you sigh, leaning back against your headboard - the large puppy of a man turning on his side to face you.

“I think you made him nervous, kitten.” Luke whispers.

“If you ever call me kitten again, I’ll cut your balls off and feed them to you in a sandwich.” You snap, Luke immediately throwing his hands up in defence.

“I’m just testing some out - give it time, pumpkin.”

“Get the fuck out of my room.”

“I’m kidding.” He laughs, his hands grabbing hold of your wrists as you try to shove him off the bed. “But I was being serious, Jack says stupid shit when he’s nervous or caught off guard.”

“Are you saying kissing me somehow made him nervous?” You can’t help the way your head shakes as Luke nods his in agreement with what you’re saying. “There is no way, hot shot hockey star got nervous from kissing the girl he went bra shopping with when they were ten.”

“It’s just a suspicion, so don’t take his stupid comments to heart.” Luke admits, dragging the covers which lay folded at the end of the bed over the two of your before settling down into the pillows.

“What are you doing?”

“My room is so far away.” He whines, patting the space next to him waiting for you to follow suit. “I’m not leaving so get comfortable.” Luke adds, his arms crossed against his chest, a triumphant smile on his face as you settle into your own pillows turning your back to face him.

“Get a good nights rest cause we have a big day tomorrow.” Luke warns before rolling around in the bed till he finds a comfortable position.

The sound of “eye of the tiger” blaring in your dark bedroom and the heavy arm over your waist is what makes you crack your eyes open - glancing around to confirm the you are still in fact in your own bedroom. You glance down at the arm around you in confusion, your eyebrows lifting in surprise at the sight of Luke’s fingers entwined with yours sitting comfortably against the comforter. “No wonder my hand is so sweaty.” You mumble

“Luke.” You groan, trying to get his hand to release yours so you can tug the covers up and over your head.

“Shit, sorry.” He mumbles back, his eyes barely opened as his fingers release yours, rolling onto his back, slapping his hand around the mattress for his phone. “Eight AM sugar cookie, rise and shine.” His voice is crackling with sleep as his arm drops back to the mattress the alarm no longer singing the song of Rocky Balboa.

“Sugar Cookie?”

“I know, it’s just not right, is it?” He agrees, as he raises his hands to rub at his face before pulling himself into a sitting position. “We gotta get up though, can’t let date day go to waste.” You dare a glimpse over at the curly headed morning freak who is greeting you with a beaming grin, you can already see the energy buzzing under his skin.

“Time for us to get our game faces on!” He grins, flicking your forehead gently. “The bet’s not gonna win itself.”

You roll your eyes, sitting up and stretching. “This is ridiculous. I don’t even know why you’re this invested.”

“You’re just mad cause Jacky made a boo boo.” Luke teases as he slides off the bed, walking over to your curtains to rip them open, unleashing the morning sun in your face. “You don’t think I’m gonna let him just coast to victory, do you? He thinks he can just kiss you out of nowhere and then act like it’s nothing?” Luke’s voice is teasing, but there’s an edge to it, and you catch a glimpse of his competitive streak.

“Pfft, not on my watch. I’m gonna make this the most fun you’ll ever have on a date.” He tries to keep his face serious as he adds, “You’re going to go on other dates and be like ‘god I wish this was even close to being as much fun as I had with devilishly handsome and oh so charming Luke Hughes’.” He mimics trying to raise his voice as high as it’ll go.

“Actually scratch that - you’re not going to go on other date ever again cause you’ll be so enamoured by me.” He corrects, his smile as wide as it can get as you let out a bark of laughter.

“Very funny - now get out and I’ll get ready for whatever you’re going to enamour me with.”

“As you wish, m’lady.” He says as he makes his way to the door, pulling it open all the way, Jack stopping just outside the door, looking between you and Luke in surprise. “Oh and wear something comfy.” He adds, nodding hello to his older brother as he fiddles with the long messy curls falling in his face.

“He has a lot of energy.” Jack notes, stepping forwards to lean against your doorframe.

“He’s excited.” You say with a shrug, slipping out of the bed and adjusting your pyjama bottoms which had ridden up over the night.

“Listen, I think we should talk.”

“Can we do it later? I have a feeling if I’m not ready in fifteen minutes Luke is gonna drag me on this date in my pyjamas.” You joke risking a glimpse at Jack’s face, expecting there to be a light smile but met with a blank expression.

“Yeah.” He says quickly, clearing his throat. “Yeah whatever time suits you.” Jack says snapping out of his daze as he shoots you a quick smile, clapping his hand against the door frame before walking the rest of the way down the hall to his bedroom - the sound of the door closing echoing through the house.

You can’t help the shiver of nerves at Jack's sudden shift; maybe Luke was right.

"Fifteen minutes, princess!” Luke’s voice rings from this bedroom down the hall, and you huff out a breath, rolling your eyes. Luke’s enthusiasm for this date was charming in its own right, and for now, you'd focus on that.

You dress quickly, pulling on a white thin sweater and some muted green overalls with your favourite broken in and worn down white converses as you gather a small cross body bag with the essentials.

“I’m coming.” You hiss and Luke stops outside your door, pointedly looking down at the watch on his wrist. You pull your hair into a ponytail, the loose pieces at the front unable to be contained by the hair tie. Luke has on a simple pair of black shorts, with a washed out blue concert tee - his hair freshly washed and dried, and also possibly brushed, which was rare for the younger brother. He sports his own white converse - quick to point out the unintentional matching.

“We’d just make the cutest couple, wouldn’t we?” He sing songs to Quinn who slides a plate of freshly cut fruit over to you as you take a seat at the counter - thanking the oldest as you dig into the juicy red apple slices.

“He’s got a lot of energy.” Quinn notes, the deja vu slapping your across the face.

“He’s excited.” You agree the encounter mimicking your earlier run in with Jack.

“So what’s your plan for today?” Quinn questions Luke, watching his younger brother shove gatorade bottles and packets of chips into a small backpack.

“Why? Trying to keep your enemies close?” Luke chides, slinging the mini black bag over his shoulder - the item looking smaller then before against his broad back. “We may or may not be going to one of her favourite places.” Luke hints, your eyes lighting up as Quinn looks over to you in confusion.

“There’s a fair nearby?” You question, Luke nodding his head as he grabs an apple from the fruit bowl taking a large bite from it. “Since when? How did I not know about this.”

“Wait, didn’t your friends from u-mich invite you to hang out with them there?” Quinn questions, a teasing smirk on his face as a frown grows on yours.

“So you’re using this date as an excuse to hang out with your friends?” You ask Luke, his head shaking quickly as he bends down his mouth just besides your ear.

“No I’m using it as an excuse to show you off to my friends.” He corrects, a shit eating grin on his face as he ushers you off the bar stool and towards the front door. “We’ll see you later tonight.” He bid farewell to his older brother before slamming the door closed.

“C’mon we have a one hour drive ahead of us.” Luke says, his hand reaching for yours for what would be the first time of many throughout your date.

The one-hour drive feels like minutes, and before you know it, you’re pulling into the makeshift parking lot beside the fairgrounds. The scent of fried dough, popcorn, and fresh-cut grass wafts through the open window, instantly transporting you to childhood summers. The sound of laughter, carnival games, and the occasional squeal from the rides fills the air.

Luke parks the car and hops out, circling around to open your door before you can even unbuckle your seatbelt.

“What a gentleman,” you tease, stepping out and adjusting the strap of your crossbody bag.

“Only the best for my date,” Luke retorts with a wink, grabbing your hand again.

The fair is bustling with people, families with kids in tow, couples hand-in-hand, and groups of teenagers excitedly darting between rides. Luke leads you through the crowd, his fingers laced securely with yours, making sure you don’t get separated.

“Where to first?” he asks, stopping in the middle of the main walkway. His eyes gleam with excitement as he scans the colorful booths and towering rides.

“I don’t know... you’re the one who planned this, remember?” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder.

“Right, but it’s all about what you want,” he insists, gesturing dramatically to the array of options. “Games? Rides? Food? Name it.”Your eyes land on a giant Ferris wheel at the far end of the fairgrounds, its lights twinkling even in the daylight.

“That,” you say, pointing to it.

“The Ferris wheel? Starting strong, I like it.” Luke grins and starts leading you toward it, but not before pulling you to a halt at a booth along the way.

“Hold up,” he says, eyeing the rows of oversized stuffed animals dangling above a ring-toss game. “I’ve got to win you something first. It’s tradition.”

“Tradition?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Yup. No fair date is complete without a ridiculously large stuffed animal you have no idea where to put later,” he says with a smirk, handing a few bills to the booth operator.

Luke’s competitive streak comes out in full force as he lines up his shots, determination etched into his face. The first two tosses miss, and you try to hide your giggles behind your hand.

“Oh, laugh it up,” he says, narrowing his eyes playfully. “I’m just warming up.”

The third ring lands perfectly around the target, and Luke lets out a victorious shout, throwing his hands in the air. The booth operator hands him a stuffed bear almost as big as you are, and he turns to you with a proud grin.

“For you,” he declares, presenting it with a flourish.

You laugh as you take it, hugging the soft toy close. “This is so impractical, but thank you.”

“Impractical? No way. It’s the ultimate prize,” Luke insists, leaning down to whisper, “Besides, it’s my excuse to keep carrying stuff for you all day.”

“Smooth,” you say with a grin, letting him take the bear back as you head toward the Ferris wheel, your hand slipping into his again.

As you step into the Ferris wheel carriage, the world below begins to shrink, and the view stretches out for miles. Luke sits close beside you, his knee brushing against yours as the carriage rocks gently.

“Okay, you were right,” he says, looking out at the sprawling fairgrounds and the sun painting the horizon in shades of gold. “This was the perfect first stop.”

You glance over at him, catching the soft, thoughtful expression on his face. “You’re full of surprises, Hughes.”

The Ferris wheel slows to a stop at the very top, giving you a moment of stillness high above the fairgrounds which is becoming increasingly busy as time seems to pause.

“Pretty great view, huh?” Luke says, his voice quieter now, almost reverent.

“Yeah,” you agree, though your eyes aren’t on the horizon. Instead, they linger on the way the rays of sunlight catch the edges of Luke’s face, softening his features.

He turns to catch you staring, and a slow, teasing grin spreads across his face. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” you say quickly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I just—yeah, it’s a good view.”

Luke’s grin softens into something gentler as he leans back against the carriage, letting the quiet between you stretch comfortably. The Ferris wheel starts to move again, and he shifts closer, his arm brushing against yours.

By the time the two of you reach the ground the fair has hit peak chaos - hundreds of people filling the walkways, your new bear tight in one arm, Luke’s hand gripping your free hand as he leads the way through the crowds, his oversized frame making it easy for him to pull the two of you between the masses of people.

“Alright, it’s time for the most important part of any fair experience: food,” he announces, his enthusiasm infectious.

“Let me guess—corn dogs and funnel cake?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Obviously,” Luke says, feigning offence. “But also, those giant turkey legs and deep-fried... well, anything.” You laugh, letting him pull you toward a stand where the smell of fried batter and powdered sugar makes your mouth water. Luke insists on ordering for both of you, and soon your hands are full of hot, sugary funnel cake and a comically oversized lemonade.

The two of you find a spot on a bench near the carousel, sharing bites of the funnel cake and laughing at the powdered sugar that inevitably ends up on your face—and his shirt.

“You’ve got some...” Luke gestures vaguely toward your chin.

“Where?” you ask, swiping at your face with a napkin.

“Nope, you missed it,” he says, reaching out to brush the spot away with his thumb. The simple touch sends a warm flutter through your chest, and for a moment, the chaos of the fair fades into the background.

“Thanks,” you murmur, your eyes meeting his.

“Anytime,” he replies, his gaze lingering just a little longer than usual.

“So what happened to your friends? Are they not meeting you here?” You question, clearing your throat as the two of your break eye contact, your focus going back down to the funnel cake in front of you. Luke also clearing his throat as he pulls his hands off the table where they were resting to pull his phone out of his back pocket.

“I’m not sure, they’re somewhere around here.” He says, tucking his phone back into his pocket, digging his fork into the remaining food in front of you taking a bite as you tilt your head in confusion.

“I thought you wanted to see your friends?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing deeper as Luke lets out a long sigh.

“I do.” He admits, whispering something inaudible under his breath, his eyes still turned towards the table.

“What was that? I didn’t quite catch it.” You joke.

“I said, I’d rather spend today with you.” He repeats himself, his shoulders sagging a little almost in relief as the words leave his mouth - his eyes finally lifting to yours as he leans back on the picnic bench.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He questions your head nodding quickly.

“I like spending time with you too, Luke.” You admit, smiling at the surprised grin that spreads on Luke’s face.

“That’s good.” He says feigning nonchalance.

“Yeah, you’re like my best guy friend.” You tease, watching Luke’s face drop a little, the infamous Hughes pout spreading across his lips.

“Great, this is great.” He groans, running his hand down his face in despair. His head dropping against the table as you let out a snort of laughter, sliding out from your seat, making sure to grab the arm of your oversized bear before making your way over to his side.

“I’m kidding, Luke.” You whisper, as you perch one knee on the bench besides him, leaning forwards to press a soft kiss against his cheek, jumping back as he flings himself from his hunched position. “Are we gonna continue this date or not?” You smile, as Luke nods his head, sliding out of his seat, and reaching his hand behind him as he waits for you to follow after him. His fingers squeezing yours tight as you slide your palm into his.

Your day seems to fly by as the hot summer sun slowly descends in the sky, your arms now filled with your giant bear and a more modest sized unicorn that had taken Luke six attempts to win from the basketball game. “You’re looking a little tired.” Luke notes as you make your way down the significantly emptier main walkway. “Do you want to start heading home?”

“I just need to use the bathroom.” You respond, pausing your steps as you catch sight of the bathroom sign, Luke quickly pulling the stuffed animals from your arms motioning for you to go ahead.

“I’ll wait right here.” He says the sound of his voice being called hitting you as you walk into the restroom. You make quick work of your business after waiting in line for ten minutes, trying to push your way out of the bathroom without touching any of the admittedly dirty walls.

Luke is exactly where you left him, talking animatedly with who you quickly realise must be the friends he had avoided meeting up with all day so he could spend the day with you. You take a few steps forwards before deciding to hover back a little bit, letting the friends catch up without the interruption of a stranger. Pulling your phone out of your bag to check the notifications you had ignored for most of the day.

Jack 😈: let me know when you guys are heading home.

Jack 😈: I hope you had a lot of fun on your date

Jack 😈: I’m sorry if I made things weird between us.

Quinnifer 😇 : I think you broke my brother.

“Hey, what are you doing over there?” Your head pops up at the sound of Luke’s voice, the sight of the group now turned towards you making your eyes bulge a little.

“Just catching up on my messages.” You say quickly, awkwardly showing your phone to the group, hoping it was enough to dismiss the attention. You watch as Luke’s friends nod to you in acknowledgement before turning to talk to each other in hushed whispers, the words obviously pleasing Luke as his boyish grin lights up his face.

His eyes make contact with yours, his head motioning for you to come over and join him, his hand reaching out towards you, making quick grabby motions similar to that of a toddler as he waits for you to take his hand. You feel his body relax as you slip your hand into his, his arm pulling you close to his side as his raises your joined hands to press a soft kiss to your knuckles, your heart speeding up to a hundred miles an hour as you glance up at him in surprise.

“It was good seeing you guys, we need to do a lake trip soon.” Luke interjects, wrapping up to conversation efficiently as he quickly bids his friends farewell, making promises to hang out soon, as the two of you slowly wander away from the group of college students.

As you settle into the car for the ride home, Luke glances over at you, his expression soft and a little shy. “So... was this a good first date?”

You smile, leaning your head against the window. “It was perfect.”Luke grins, reaching over to place his hand gently against your thigh, his hand remaining there for the whole trip home, his thumb rubbing soft circles against your skin.

Luke parks the car and turns off the engine. For a moment, the two of you sit in comfortable silence, the air filled with a warm contentment that neither of you seems in a rush to break. His hand lingers on your thigh, the steady pressure a grounding reminder of his presence.

Finally, Luke looks over at you with a playful smirk. “You’re not going to make me walk you to your door like a proper gentleman, are you?”

You chuckle, undoing your seatbelt. “Well, you did just earn some serious points tonight. But sure, let’s see how gentlemanly you can be.”

He shakes his head, pretending to be exasperated, but he’s out of the car in an instant, jogging around to your side to open the door for you. He extends a hand with an exaggerated flourish. “M’lady.”

You take his hand, laughing as he helps you out of the car. The cool night air brushes against your skin, and you instinctively lean closer to him as you walk up to the door. His arm slips around your waist, holding you close as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

When you reach your doorstep, you turn to face him, surprised as he doesn’t slow down, opening the front door and ushering you inside.

“Where are you going?” You ask, Luke turning back to look at you with a smirk.

“This is the door, but not your door.” He responds, your brain catching up quickly as you close the front door softly before following him up the stairs until the two of you stop outside your bedroom door, your heart fluttering as you meet his gaze. His boyish grin is back, but there’s a hint of nervousness in his eyes now. He rubs the back of his neck, glancing down for a moment before looking at you again.

“So… I had a really good time today,” he says, his voice softer now, more vulnerable.

“Me too,” you reply, your voice matching his quiet tone. “Thank you for making it so special.”

He takes a small step closer, his free hand reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. “I’m glad. I wanted it to be… I don’t know, just right.”

“It was,” you assure him, your heart racing as the space between you shrinks. Lukes hand slowly cupping the side of your face, searching for any signs of resistance before he leans down, pressing his lips firmly against yours, your own hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, as you lift to your tippy toes pulling yourself tight against him.

His free hand raising to grab hold of your door handle, as he twists it open, slowly walking the two of you inside your bedroom, kicking the door closed with his foot. Both of Lukes hands are gentle against your jaw as you pull away from him, his eyes meeting yours as you chew on your bottom lip.

“Is this too much?” He asks gently, his thumbs rubbing softly against your cheeks, his breathing heavy as he waits for you to respond.

“Is this not kinda of crossing the line? I mean I know we didn’t set any rules for the competition but do you not feel weird that I’ve kissed you and your brother?” You explain, grimacing as you speak the situation out loud.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Luke asks slowly, ignoring the rest of your statement, his eyes searching yours as you nod slowly - unable to miss the way Luke grins as he mumbles, “Then fuck the competition.” Luke doesn’t waste time in reconnecting your lips, his hands firm on your hips as he walks to two of you back towards your bed, perching himself on the edge.

Luke’s lips leave yours for no more than ten seconds, ripping his shirt over his head as his hands tug your body onto his lap, your legs straddling him as he shoots you a quick grin, before leaning up to catch your lips again. Your body melts against him your hands rake up his arms, Luke letting out a small shiver as they tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you.

You’re both starved for each other, taking the time to melt your bodies together as Luke lies back on the mattress pulling you down with him, his fingers digging into the plush flesh of your thighs, before moving higher up your body.

“Why’d you have to wear fucking overalls?” He grimaces as you sit back against his pelvis, your hands briefly bracing against his bare abdomen the muscles tensing under your touch before reaching up to undo the two buttons holding up the top of the overalls letting the top fall off your shoulders. Luke lets out a shaky breath as he reaches forwards griping the hem of your sweater waiting for your small nod before pulling it up and over your head.

“I wasn’t really going for aesthetic when I got dressed this morning.” You admit, glancing down at the black sports bra with a frown, your overalls bunching at your hips as you glance down at Luke, still sprawled on your mattress glancing up at you with a sparkle in his eyes.

“I’ve never been one for aesthetics.” He says quietly, his hands running up the skin on your sides, goosebumps blossoming on your skin as he pauses as the clasps on your sports bra, a knock sounding through the room.

“Are you in there?” You just manage to catch as your head spins towards the door, the clear shadowing seeping under the door, Jack’s voice slicing through the tension in the room.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Luke growls, his hands sliding back down to your hips to hold you steady as he sits up from his spot on the mattress, his arms wrapping around your waist as your turn your head back to him in panic. Luke leans forwards, skin pressing against skin as he steals one, two, three more kisses before pushing himself off the mattress, your legs wrapped around his hips, Luke slowly letting you place your feet back to the ground.

“Don’t panic.” Luke whispers, his forehead pressing to yours. “He probably just wants to talk to you about your date last night.” Luke reminds you, pressing one more sweet kiss to your nose before stepping away from you, picking your sweater up off the floor and handing it to you to put on.

“I’ll come back later.” Luke reassures you, grabbing his own shirt off the floor before moving towards your bedroom door, pulling it open and sending his surprised older brother a glare. “Don’t say anything stupid.” Luke warns his brother before padding down the hallway to his own room.

Jack glances over at you in surprise, his expression almost an exact mirror of this morning when Luke left your room. “I have a feeling I interrupted something.” Jack notes your arms crossing over your chest as you choose not to respond.

“I just wanted to apologise for last night and thought that maybe the kiss made things weird between us but…” Jack pauses, glancing back in the direction his brother just went before looking back at you, his expression shifting from soft confusion to simmering anger, “Clearly the kiss wasn’t the problem.”

“What are you saying, Jack?”

“I’m just saying I thought maybe I crossed a line by kissing you but obviously that line doesn’t exist with you.” Jack reiterates, his words making you lift your eyebrows in surprise.

“You were right, Jack. The kiss wasn’t the problem.” You begin, opening to your mouth to continue explaining but pausing as you watch Jack take a step backwards, his head nodding as he frowns.

“No don’t bother - I understand now.” He says quickly, escaping down the hallway to his room slamming the door harshly the sounding ringing through the house.

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