#but do y'all actually pay attention to the plot or just read the words

[soaps-mohawk]

You’re actually so nice because if it were me I’d just delete all the asks about things you’ve already clearly answered in the lore posts. Like sorry but do your homework if you really want the answer to the question.

Reminds me of the people when I worked retail who would call the store for our regular open hours as if we weren’t a national chain with the hours on the website right next to the phone number you had to look up to call us

Ofc this is the bad reading comprehension sight so idk why I expect so much

It's so hard to be nice sometimes. Sometimes I literally have to get up and walk away because I just want to be mean. I honestly shouldn't be answering these right now because I'm very frustrated and feeling mean.

Like, most of the information is there. I hate seeing "sorry if you've answered this before" because I just know 75% of the time it's going to be a question I have already answered. And the answer is gonna be there, if they had just bothered to look. The ones that follow it up with "I looked but I couldn't find it" less annoying because at least you knew there was a whole list and did look. I know it's a lot and it's easy to miss things but please. I'm begging people to look.

That reminds me of Christmas day a couple years ago. I was having blood sugar issues and went to the ER and then my roommate at the time picked me up and we went to 7/11 and I kid you not in the like ten minutes we were there, one of the managers was just standing by the phone saying over and over "yes we're open" for every call. Like...7/11 never closes. Never. They're always open.

All the people who didn't pay attention in English class are really congregating in fandom huh 😭 I beg y'all to teach yourselves reading comprehension and analysis skills and critical thinking. It will save you (and everyone else) so much grief in your lives.

[bluehoodiewoozi]

Neverending

Lee Jihoon x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff with little to no plot

Words: 14k

Warnings: crying with references to an argument. a single reference to porn. hatred of philosophy. simp woozi who suffers from anxious perfectionism and self-deprecating thoughts.

[College/University AU] With the help of his friends' advice, Jihoon goes on a quest to become the best boyfriend he can be.

Note: I wrote this, had a mental break-down, then finished this, and now I'm sharing it with you in the hopes that it'll save you from a mental break-down of your own or perhaps it'll comfort you in some way. Hang in there, y'all!

It was no secret that Jihoon had little to no experience with romance. His friends often joked that his experience was limited to exactly seven rom-coms and a steamy romance novel from his mother’s bookshelf that he once read in a state of absolute boredom when he was grounded. 

And Jihoon was fine with that. He didn’t complain when he made it through middle school without as much as a peck from a girl (or anyone other than Soonyoung, really – he wasn’t picky). He didn’t as much as blink when it was high school graduation day and he was still as single as that one famous whale in the ocean. He merely shrugged when his friends pitied his forever-single state while he was doing his undergraduate degree. 

It wasn’t until he started working on his master’s degree that he began to feel left out. Maybe a little over 20 years of being single was just his limit, or maybe it was the constant pitying stares of his friends, or perhaps it was his mother’s not-so-subtle hints of wanting grandkids while she could still run with them – either way, Jihoon finally realised that he was lonely even with over ten friends around him.

And maybe it was this realisation that made him view the people around him differently. All of a sudden, couples seemed to surround him wherever he went. The pair of girls he always saw chatting at the café he worked at? Suddenly he was a witness to the kisses they shared in the corner seat. The guy living across the hall from him in the dormitory? Giggling and kicking his feet after his girlfriend fixed his hair as they left for their 8 am class. 

Heck, even Vernon was in a relationship, buying two to-go cups of chai tea from the café every Wednesday, a love-sick smile on his face, before heading to the park to share them with a woman the rest of their friend group could only theorise the identity of. 

If Vernon out of all people could find someone, why couldn’t he?

Then, as if the universe had heard the silent cries of Jihoon’s heart, he met you. 

Assigned to the same semester-long group project, he quickly realised that you were the only person other than him to actually do the work. It started with looks of exasperation shared across the library table the six of you gathered at, and then the two of you had no choice but to start talking. 

Talking – right, that was the first real step. At first about schoolwork – about the research questions of your project, about other courses, about complaints about your professors. Then, barely a week into knowing him, you broke the thin ice.

He could still vividly remember the way you tugged on the sleeve of his jacket just as he was about to walk away after a meeting. You smiled at him – a real smile rather than the tired polite one he had grown so accustomed to – and asked, “So, what kind of movies do you like?”

As soon as he managed to utter the words “I guess… superhero movies?” out of his mouth, you were once again tugging at his sleeve, this time dragging him in the direction of a nearby cinema. You ended up only allowing him to pay for the popcorn (and he had to beg for even that much) because it seemed you were dead-set on treating him like a prince.

That was your first date: after classes, in the darkness of the cinema, with Spiderman swinging by on the giant screen. He barely had any time to pay attention to the plot, too busy relishing in your presence and the sound of your laughter at the corny jokes. And then, as MJ and Peter Parker shared a kiss on the screen, he felt something warm on his hand – your fingers curled around his own and he couldn’t help but give them a squeeze back, his ears as red as Spiderman’s suit. 

The impromptu date was followed by another, then another, and another, until you finally had enough and pulled him to the side after class.

“Do you like me?” you asked him, a little frustrated with how slow things were going and with how awkward he still seemed.

His ears flushed red again. “Of… of course I do.” (He preferred to imagine his voice hadn’t cracked in the middle of the sentence.)

Your scowl remained. “Then be my boyfriend.”

When he nodded, you smiled and took his hand again – he told himself he’d never let yours go. 

But unfortunately, his lack of romantic experience made it difficult to gracefully slip into the role of your boyfriend. He was almost jealous of the way the role of the girlfriend came so easily to you, taking his hand so easily every day, when he spent hours at night contemplating whether he should kiss your forehead or not when you’d part ways on campus the next day. 

On one of those nights, he decided you deserved better. You deserved a better him. 

So, he grabbed his phone and texted the one friend he trusted with his life. 

[i need advice.]

[how can i be a better boyfriend?]

[YJH: that’s easy! carry her bag for her! girls love that!]

When Jihoon met you on your way to a 12 pm class, he hesitated to follow Jeonghan’s advice. Countless what-ifs floated in his head: what if you thought that it was rude, what if you wanted to carry your own things, what if you tried to carry his bag instead… Did boyfriends outside of fanfiction and romantic movies even carry their girlfriends’ things for them?

Doubts hurried out of his mind soon enough, making way for worry when he saw you adjust the tote bag on your shoulder with a grimace. He inwardly panicked at the sight of your discomfort. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?” you wondered as if completely oblivious. 

“Is your bag heavy?” His brows furrowed. Before you could take another step, he slipped the bag off your shoulder and onto his own. Your grimace made sense all of a sudden. His frown deepened, but not because of your confused stare. “What do you have in here? An entire drum set?”

You laughed. “No, just my laptop and some snacks.”

Even as he bounced on his spot to test the weight, his frown remained. He glared at the bag. “Your laptop’s not that heavy.”

Your face scrunched up. “My laptop kind of broke yesterday, so I had to revive the old, heavy one.”

Jihoon’s frown disappeared. He stared up at you in surprise, and then, unable to stop himself, he offered, “Do you want me to take a look at it? Maybe I can fix it.”

“Nah,” you shrugged, “I’ll just take it to get it fixed tomorrow. My friend recommended this shop–”

“Don’t be silly,” he scolded you and continued the journey to class. “You know that the shop will take three weeks to even look at your laptop and then another three to order the necessary parts and then another five to actually fix it. You might graduate before they get it fixed.”

“Yeah?” you laughed, following after him, your hand naturally coming to rest around his own. “And you’re faster?”

“Faster, more reliable, cheaper,” he counted on his fingers before offering you a cheeky grin. When you didn’t seem too convinced, he sighed and added, “You can ask any of my friends and they’ll tell you I can do this. I’ve done this before. I fixed Junhui’s laptop just a few weeks ago; got a 5-star review.”

At that, you sighed. In the few weeks of being his girlfriend, you had learnt that he was as stubborn as he was kind. In fact, he was even more stubborn when he was being kind: you had been a first-hand witness to Jihoon physically pinning Kim Mingyu to the ground to put a bandage on a fresh cut on his cheek, all the while cursing the friend under his breath for not being more careful. You shuddered at what Jihoon might do if you continued to refuse his laptop-fixing offer.

You finally sighed again and nodded. “Should I bring it over to your place?”

“Yeah,” he agreed easily, his lips curling into a victorious smile, “I’m free this weekend so I can probably get it done before finals.”

You grinned at the thought. “If you manage to do that, I will literally marry you. You’re the best.”

He could only pray you wouldn’t mention the way his ears undoubtedly turned red again as he adjusted your bag on his shoulder and led you to your lecture room.

[YJH: help her do research for her essay] 

Jihoon let out a soft huff as he placed your bag on a seat at the library before gently pulling you to sit in the seat next to it. He let himself fall into the chair across from yours. 

“Thank you!” your chipper voice was almost enough to rid him of the muscle pain your pain caused. 

He offered a smile and a blink so slow you began to wonder if he took you for a cat. “You’re welcome.”

Then, just like a cat himself, he just sat and watched you set up on the desk. His eyes sharply followed every movement you made, sometimes lingering here or there if something particular caught his eye (your oddly fluffy pink pen was one of those particular things). “So, what are you going to be working on?”

You groaned audibly. “Research for this mythology class I’m taking. We’re supposed to make a big wiki as a class effort. Each of us got a different topic to write about. But, like, it’s more of an actual small research paper: citations, references, quotes…” You pouted. “If you weren’t here, I’d be crying by now.”

He didn’t like the sound of that at all – the crying part, because he actually quite enjoyed mythology. Though he hesitated just a little before saying it, he offered, “If you need a hug, just tell me.”

“You’re so cute.” You reached over the table to give him an affectionate pat on his head, effectively both praising him and fixing his windswept mess of hair. “Have you gotten around to fixing my laptop yet?”

Relaxing in his chair, he began, “I’m waiting for a part, but it’s almost fixed otherwise.”

You blinked. “What part?”

“A battery.”

“I don’t think it was a battery issue, though,” you mumbled while avoiding his eyes, not wanting to insult his competence. After all, you were pretty sure the issue was with the graphics – why else would your laptop screen flicker like a rogue disco ball?

As if reading your mind, he chuckled and pulled out his phone to check the package tracking website. “I almost fixed the main issue already, but I noticed that the battery was acting weird, so I figured I might as well fix that too.”

When he looked up from his phone again, you were staring at him with stars in his eyes. His heart thumped a little louder at the sight. “... What?”

You shrugged and turned back to your work. “Nothing.”

He pursed his lips at that and put his phone away again. In his head, he went over all the assignments he had to finish for the following week. Deciding there weren’t any that took priority (a bold lie to himself), he cleared his throat. “So, what do you have to research?”

“Greek mythology.”

“But…” He tilted his head to the side in thought – maybe you wouldn’t want his help? There he went again, he realised: hesitating. He frowned and shook his head clear before smiling at you again. “What exactly?”

“Some mythological creatures. I thought that would be more fun than the usual famous characters.”

“Creatures like… harpies and sirens?”

“Yep.” 

Realising you were already deep in the world of research, he decided to not bother you with any further questions. Instead, he slowly and as quietly as he could (but still louder than he would’ve liked) slid his chair back and headed further into the library. 

“Mythological creatures,” he mumbled to himself as he wandered between the seemingly endless shelves. Before long, he found what he was looking for. He returned to your table barely ten minutes later, placing a heap of books on it before slumping back into his chair with a deep sigh. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him open the first book and flip through the pages like a man on a quest. You smiled at the sight before focusing back on your work. Even so, you heard the scribble of his pencil and the familiar sound of a sticky note getting ripped out of its block. 

Just as you stopped paying attention to him, you felt a book being pushed towards you. When you looked away from your laptop, you found the book you had just seen him read, now laid open on your side of the table, turned to face you. 

Light pink sticky notes between the closed pages and a few on the open ones: the book invited you to read. The notes carried Jihoon’s neat handwriting, retelling the contents of the page. Better yet: these were notes about mythological creatures described in the book: 

‘Chimera. pg 6: Daughter of Typhon and Echidna. pg 18: lion's body and head, snake for a tail, breathes fire?’

When you glanced back at him, smiling brightly, he was already nose-deep in a different book, paying you no attention.

[Y.JH.: watch a porno together 😉]

Jihoon stared at his friend’s message for a total of five minutes. He then decided that he should stop taking advice from Jeonghan. 

He turned to the group chat for help instead.

“You’re going to drive yourself insane before finals even start,” he warned you with a fond smile as you flipped through your worksheets, thoroughly checking each and every one to make sure you hadn’t missed anything.

You offered him a tired glare and turned back to your task. “I’m already halfway there, might as well commit.”

[X.MH.: take her on a walk. enjoy the weather.]

Minghao’s suggestion rang in his head as he watched you. After all, he himself often went on ridiculously long walks in the park when he ran into a metaphorical wall with his work and studies, as did many of his friends. Perhaps it would help you too: romance and relaxation in one – a win on two fronts.

“Do you—” He hesitated. Why did he always hesitate? Even he himself was starting to get annoyed by it. He shook his head to clear his mind and fix his hair before trying again, “Do you want to go on a walk?”

You froze. “A walk?”

He hummed. “To clear your mind. Some fresh air might be good for you. Resets your brain and what-not.”

You mulled it over in your head: assignments versus your adorable boyfriend?

“Fine,” you finally huffed, feigning annoyance, “but I’m going to pet every dog I see and you can’t stop me.”

He laughed at the idea, already imagining it in his head, and got up from the floor before extending a hand to help you up as well. “You’d have to try to stop me first. I’m known for attracting random dogs.”

You took his hand and stretched. “I wonder why.”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged and handed you your jacket before shrugging on his own. He tried not to think about how your jackets matched – almost like a couple’s item.

Soon, the two of you were walking side by side in the park, laughing at everything and nothing and Seokmin’s attempt to fit in a kids’ swing that you saw in the passing. 

As always, your hand found Jihoon’s before he could find the courage to seek your affection. Fingers squeezing together, his skin blissfully on fire against yours – he wondered why he never dared to make the first move and reach for your hand. But if he wasn’t the one to initiate, he at least had an excuse to not let you go.

“How come I’m your first girlfriend?” you wondered, searching his face for answers.

He shrugged. “You just are.”

“You really never had anyone else before?” He shook his head. “Not even a fling?” Another shake of his head. “A hook-up?” He blushed and shook his head harder. You frowned in confusion. “How? You’re, like, perfect. Other girls must have swarmed around you like bees around honey.”

“Don’t be silly,” he denied in a hushed voice, avoiding your eyes so he could act like his ears weren’t redder than the late autumn leaves. 

“I know I wanted you to be mine the moment I saw you,” you mumbled with a pout, offended on his behalf. “So, why were you single all this time then?”

Jihoon shrugged once again, his lips in a tight line of awkwardness. “I just wasn’t interested, I guess. Too busy studying.”

“Then,” you hummed in thought before turning to him again, this time eyes shining with mischief, “have you ever kissed anyone before?”

He paled. “I– Uh– Technically…”

“Technically?” you pressed eagerly.

He cleared his throat. “Technically I’ve been kissed by one person.”

“Technically?!” You were scandalised, baffled, puzzled, curious beyond belief. He could only laugh hopelessly as you stopped him and grabbed him by the shoulders to stare at him, your mouth agape. “Who was it? Was she pretty?”

“Pretty?” He grimaced. It was too late to lie now – might as well commit to his honesty streak. “In his own way, I suppose–”

“HIS?!” Your jaw dropped even more as he avoided your eyes. 

“Let’s just pretend I didn’t say anything–”

“No, I need the truth,” you laughed, almost maniacal with both joy and curiosity. You gripped his shoulders, promising to not let him go until you got the answers. “Who was it? Jihoon, you have to tell me.”

He sighed deeply. His head tilted back so he could stare towards the sky, calling for an extraterrestrial life-form to abduct him. He had been doing so great so far… Why did he have to be damn honest with you?

After thirty seconds, he accepted that the aliens hadn’t found his calls appealing enough. He sighed and slumped before you, head lolling forward as he confessed, “Do you know Kwon Soonyoung?”

You burst into laughter, jumping away from him to bounce in joy (Jihoon wondered if maybe the impending sense of finals’ season doom was too much for you) as you repeated, “Kwon Soonyoung? The tiger guy?”

“Of course that’s what you know him for,” he mumbled under his breath, hand reaching up to rub at his eyes so he could avoid eye contact a little longer. “Just so you know, it was nothing serious: he just decided to kiss me on the playground in, like, 6th grade one day.” He sighed deeply at the memory, still unsure how he felt about it after all these years.

But you were too busy giggling to acknowledge his dismay. “On the lips?”

He grimaced. “On the lips.”

“Full on?”

“Full on,” he sighed.

Before he could scold you to not tell anyone else (not that it mattered anyway: Soonyoung had taken it upon himself to share the tale with every person he met anyway), you were in front of him again, still smiling brightly. His scowl melted into a gentle smile at the sight – he sucked at being mad at you.

“Like this?” You leaned forward, placed your hands on his cheeks, and pulled him in for a kiss of your own. 

All of a sudden, Jihoon swore he was floating. He wrapped his arms around your waist to anchor himself as he leaned further into you, unwilling to part from your lips. Even as you attempted to pull away, he chased after your lips, unsatisfied until you melted back into the kiss. 

When he finally ran out of air, you began giggling, a shy glow on your cheeks as you looked at his still-closed eyes. “So?”

“What?” he wondered, slow to open his eyes, and even when he finally did, his eyelids drooped like he was still waking up from the sweetest of dreams. 

“Was the kiss historically accurate?” you joked, leaning closer to brush your nose against his.

He was unable to even laugh. Only a dopey smile appeared on his face as he whispered, “No, it was so much better.”

[H.JS.: surprise her with flowers]

[i dont know what kind of flowers she likes tho??]

[W.JH.: unless she’s allergic, i dont think it matters]

Despite still being unsure whether the group chat was helpful or just plain useless, Jihoon followed their advice like it was the law. 

Flowers? He could find flowers. Easy. They’re sold almost everywhere. Surely, he could figure out something as simple and universal as flowers. 

Wrong.

The moment he stepped into the flower store, he felt like a five-year-old left unattended in a new city. He hadn’t even realised there were so many options. He gulped. 

“Can I help you?” an oddly familiar voice called out to him and he whipped his head around in search of the speaker. He found Wonwoo staring back at him, his eyes shining with mischief upon recognising his new customer.

Jihoon grimaced. “I– Nevermind.” 

But when he tried to leave, Wonwoo grabbed him by the hood of his white sweatshirt and dragged him further into the store. “Are you going to buy your girlfriend flowers? Like Joshua suggested?”

“I– No– Why would I–” Jihoon’s resolve broke under Wonwoo’s knowing glare. He lowered his gaze to the floor and sheepishly nodded. 

Wonwoo let out a small sound of victory before asking, “So, what kind of flowers do you want to get her?”

“That’s the thing,” Jihoon sighed deeply, “I have no clue what to get.”

His florist friend hummed in understanding. “Is she more of a daisy or a rose girl?”

Jihoon offered him a confused look. “How am I supposed to know? I’ve only dated her for a month.”

“Roses may be a bit much then,” Wonwoo concluded with a squint of his eyes before heading somewhere in the store, once again grabbing Jihoon by the hood and dragging him along. 

Jihoon could only whine quietly in protest. “Can you stop doing that?”

“No.” The answer was plain, clear, and left no room for argument. “I think tulips are the way to go.”

Jihoon had no further complaints as Wonwoo began piling flowers into his arms. Once he was satisfied, he led Jihoon to the counter – by the hood, once again, as if he was a cat mom carrying her kitten – and began arranging them into a bouquet. 

“Do you want me to tie a bow for them?” he asked but Jihoon gave him no answer.  When he looked up again, his love-sick friend was staring at the newly-complete bouquet in awe.  Wonwoo smiled and handed him the flowers. “There. Do you think she’ll like them?”

“I– How did you know… ?”

Wonwoo’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Was I right?”

Jihoon could only nod before fishing his wallet out. “I seriously owe you one. You’re good at this.”

On the way to your dorm, he couldn’t stop staring at the bouquet. The tulips were exactly the colours he associated with you, as if Wonwoo had read his mind and translated it into flowers. Now he could only adjust them a little and pray you’d like them as much as he did.

A deep breath. A soft knock on your door. 

Your roommate opened the door, her eyes lighting up with excitement upon recognising him and noticing the flowers in his arms. She practically dragged him inside while calling out to you, “(Y/n), your Prince Charming arrived!”

Before he could say anything, she patted his shoulder and leaned over to whisper “She’ll love them” before all but bouncing out the front door, offering him one last cheeky wink before she left. 

“Jihoon?” he then heard you call out from a distance. “Is that you?”

He called back a confirmation before following your voice to your room. Just as he often did, he found you seated on your bed, your (newly fixed) laptop in front of you, surrounded by endless pages of homework and research. He smiled at the familiar sight.

“Are you busy studying again?” he wondered, his voice impossibly soft just like his heart was for you. “Should I come back later?”

Without looking up, you shook your head. “No, no, please stay. I just have to finish this table and then–” Your gaze lifted to meet his by habit, at which point your jaw dropped. Soon, a smile forced itself onto your face. “Jihoon!”

He feigned ignorance, his lips quirking. “Why?”

“Did you–” You couldn’t even finish your sentence, unable to find the words as tears of joy gathered in the corners of your eyes. Pursing your lips to will yourself to not cry, you got up from the bed and walked over to hug him. You held him tight while he just laughed fondly. 

“Why?” he asked again, his free hand reaching up to caress your cheek. 

You pouted. “You got me flowers?”

When you stepped back, he lifted up the bouquet and asked, “What? This?” You nodded and he laughed again, so completely endeared by your reaction. “Do you like them that much?”

“I love them,” you said and took the flowers from his hands, already rushing to the kitchen to fill a vase with flowers. Despite not leaving your room, he could hear you mumbling, “Oh my god, you’re really going to make me cry at this rate.”

Upon returning with a vase full of water and beautiful flowers, you placed it on your desk by the window. The afternoon light hit them just right and it made you want to cry even more. 

You turned to him again. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers like this before. They’re so pretty.”

“Not as pretty as you,” he spoke before his mental filter could catch it. He bit down on his tongue the moment he closed his mouth, unable to believe he let the words slip without even thinking about them. 

To his relief, you didn’t seem to mind. If anything, the carelessly spoken compliment made you glow even more. You laughed in joy and pulled him to sit with you on the bed. He could barely find his balance on the soft mattress before your lips were on his. 

He decided he’d gift you flowers more often if this was the thanks he earned.

On a sleepless night, Jihoon came to an embarrassing realisation: he had never once initiated a kiss with you. In fact, when it came to physical affection, he hadn’t initiated anything. 

The realisation was greatly aided by Boo Seungkwan’s 2 am reply to another one of Jihoon’s cries for help. 

[B.SK.: kiss her, you idiot!]

“Kiss her?” Jihoon re-read the message the next day before grimacing in anxiety. He couldn’t even hold your hand without blushing – how was he supposed to initiate a whole kiss? Knowing him, he’d probably accidentally end up kissing your nose or, even worse, ear. The thought made him want to cry so he curled up on a random beanbag on campus, hugging his backpack to his chest, and glared at the message Seungkwan had sent him. 

“Who made my Jihoon upset?” your voice carried through the hallway. He looked up to find you walking towards him, a bright smile on your face. Catching his gaze, you smiled brighter before adding to your joke, “Should I go beat someone up? Who was it? Mingyu? Soonyoung?”

“Seungkwan,” he mumbled against the fabric of his bag as you approached him and pressed a kiss to his temple. He could practically feel his ears betraying him and squeezed his eyes shut to will the blush to leave. 

Your hand found his hair, stroking it gently. “Seungkwan? The guy who hosts almost every campus event?” He nodded solemnly and you scoffed. “I can take Seungkwan. He should be afraid of me.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought, opening his eyes to glance up at you. He didn’t dare to move with the way you were still stroking his dark hair, looking at him so fondly. What if you were startled by his movement and never played with his hair again? No, he couldn’t risk it. He closed his eyes again, enjoying the feeling. 

Without even realising it, he leaned into your embrace like a pet looking for warmth. Soon, his head rested against your chest, your fingers still in his hair while his own curled into the fabric of your blouse. He wished this moment lasted forever and then some more. 

“So, what did Seungkwan do that you’re like this?” you wondered and he felt the rumble of your voice. He suddenly found he liked it even better this way. 

With a small smile on his face, he whispered, “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” you wondered. “He must’ve done something.”

“He’s just annoying.” If it hadn’t been for your questions, Jihoon would’ve fallen asleep right there, pressed against you like a tired child. But instead, he came to an annoying realisation. “Do you not have a jacket today?”

“Nope,” he heard you reply.

He hissed at that, gently slapping your side as punishment for crimes against yourself. “It’s cold outside.”

“I run hot,” you made an excuse.

He scoffed. “You whined you were cold the last time you came to my dorm, even though it’s only, like, two degrees colder there than yours.”

You stayed silent at that. He basked in your warmth for a little longer before sitting back up straight and glaring at you. He then fidgeted with the sleeves of your blouse for a moment before scoffing and standing up to pull off his black hoodie. Unceremoniously, he shoved it to you, paying no mind to the puzzled look on your face.

“Put it on,” he finally told you when you made no move to read his mind. “I won’t baby you if you get sick.”

“I won’t get sick–” you began to protest only for him to roll his eyes, grab the hoodie, and pull it over your head himself. 

His hands gently guided your own through the sleeves before reaching down to pull the rest of the hoodie down as much as he could. (He made a mental note to invest in a longer hoodie for next time.) As a final touch, he reached up to pull the hood over your head, tying the strings into a neat bow below your chin once he had pulled the fabric around your head – tight enough to make you look just a little bit goofy. 

Surprised by his actions, you were frozen in place in front of him. With your cheeks squished by the fabric, you looked just so damn adorable. Jihoon didn’t even think before leaning closer and pressing his lips against your slightly pouted ones. 

He pulled away, nodded and smiled – satisfied with his handiwork. The realisation of his actions wouldn’t hit him for another hour.

[W.JH.: i heard her class is having a big seminar this wednesday. maybe you should cheer for her?]

[how would i do that…?]

Jihoon never received a reply to his question. Odd, and incredibly annoying. But he guessed it was only fair: his friends couldn’t give him all the answers. Some things he’d have to figure out himself. 

Just as he was contemplating on what to do, his phone buzzed. Hoping for a late reply from his friends, he immediately reached for his phone. To his surprise, it was a message from you instead:

[Y/N: if u never hear from me again, assume i had a heart attack in front of the classroom]

[Y/N: god, i hate seminars so much]

Jihoon paused. Is this what Junhui had meant? He took a deep breath and typed a reply.

[where are you? i’ll come to you.]

He was halfway out of the building by the time you answered.

[Y/N: linguistics building, seminar 321]

Despite never having been to the linguistics’ building before and having close to zero clue where he would even find this room, he ran to where you said you’d be. His lungs were burning from lack of air by the time he got to you and yet his heart ached even more than they did: all it took was one look at your shaky hands as you paced back and forth outside of the seminar room. 

“Are you… Are you okay?” he asked through his laboured breaths once he reached you, his hand immediately reaching for yours to ease the shaking. 

You sighed in relief at the sight of him. “Jihoon…”

“I’m here,” he whispered with an encouraging smile before letting you burrow into his embrace. On most days, he would have much rather dug a hole and crawled in there than let anyone show him this kind of affection in public. But he was willing to make an exception for you.

Then he spotted the familiar baffled face of Soonyoung from the corner of his eyes and cringed: he would never live this down.

“I’m so nervous about my presentation,” you whispered into his jacket and all of his attention was back on you as if by magic. 

He scoffed out a laugh, unable to believe your words. “Are you kidding? You’ll be great.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve seen you give presentations before,” he reminded you with a gentle pat on your head. “You did great the last time, I doubt this time will be different.”

You wanted to cry at the memory, completely unable to see it the way he did. “I stuttered the entire time and mixed up the slides.”

“Yeah, but it was still fine.”

“It was so embarrassing.”

“It was endearing,” he argued immediately. “Besides, you laughed it off and you still got the maximum grade. Sometimes mistakes happen, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be the end of the world.”

You leaned out of his embrace to chuckle hopelessly. “I can’t decide if you’re really good or really bad at giving motivational speeches.”

“But do you feel better?” You nodded and he grinned brightly. “Then that’s all you need. Now go on in and show them what they’re missing in— What class is this?”

“Environmental Anthropology,” you answered with a sigh and he grimaced: it sounded far from appealing and he didn’t even dare ask if it was an elective or a mandatory subject.

Deciding to just go with it, he forced on a smile (his eyebrows still high on his forehead as half of his brain tried to figure out what that course even dealt with) and gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Go get them, tiger.”

You laughed at his expression and nodded, feeling a little better already. You turned to head into class, but turned on your heel at the last moment, catching his eyes. He raised a single brow in question and you asked, “Can we go out to eat after this?”

He frowned, eyes saddening. “I wish I could. I have work in an hour. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.”

However, he could never stand the look of disappointment that grazed your face every once in a while. And when it made an appearance once again, he wanted nothing more than to comfort you. “But,” he started and you seemed to lighten up already, “you could come to the café and hang out with me there. My treat,” he promised before pointing an accusatory finger at you, “but only if you ace that presentation.”

“I… I can do that,” you nodded, more to convince yourself than him. “Yeah. I can definitely do that.”

Jihoon spent the next two hours panicking on your behalf. 

Even as he took orders and made cup after cup after cup of coffee, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He couldn’t help but feel like he could’ve done more to boost your confidence. Hell, who wants to hear they were ‘endearing’ during a presentation they felt like they messed up on? 

When the third hour of waiting began, he was half-sure you wouldn’t come to the café. Perhaps you had failed miserably or maybe you really did have a heart attack in front of the classroom. Jihoon was on the verge of spiralling.

“Okay, you’re going to burn your hand at this rate,” Seokmin scolded before ushering him away from the espresso machine. “Just man the register. I’ll deal with the coffee. God, what’s up with you today?”

Jihoon let out a soft whine of protest but followed the orders, waddling over to the register. It was a slow day and he was still messing up – what were you doing to him?

“So?” Seokmin asked again after delivering a customer’s flat white. 

“What?” Jihoon was barely even paying attention to the fact that he was being spoken to. His eyes were constantly stuck on the door. 

Any moment now. Any moment you’d walk in, a smile on your face, telling him you passed. Any moment.

Seokmin raised a brow. “What’s bothering you? Seriously, you’re not usually this aloof. Why are you staring at the door?”

“(Y/n)” was all Jihoon managed to mumble.

But it was enough for his friend. Seokmin laughed. “I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”

“What if she isn’t?” Jihoon whispered, still stuck in a dazed mix of anxiety and hope. “What if I messed up?”

Before Seokmin could even begin to comfort him, Jihoon felt like he could breathe again. There you were, practically running towards the café in your rush to get to him. He didn’t even realise he was leaning further and further towards the door, leaning against the countertop under Seokmin’s amused eyes. 

“Jihoon!” you called out once you made it to the café, dashing up the counter to pull his face to yours and press your lips against his. After pulling away again, you smiled brightly. “Guess what?”

He forgot all the vocabulary he had acquired over his life. Your name was the closest thing to a word in there. He was just glad to see you again.

You rolled your eyes at his silence but still laughed. “Jihoon, I told you to guess.”

He cleared his throat and prayed his ears weren’t too red before he found his voice. “You passed?”

“I passed,” you confirmed with an excited fist pump in the air, “and the professor said I had the best presentation in the whole course.”

“Whoa, go, girl!” Seokmin cheered, bumping his fist against yours in celebration.

Jihoon matched your bright smiles and told you, “I knew you could do it. Come on, pick what you want to eat. My treat.”

As you excitedly went to check out the cake options, Seokmin stared at him in awe. Jihoon shrugged. “What?”

“How come you never treat me?” his friend sounded almost offended.

“You never asked.”

Seokmin frowned and turned to you. “Did you ask him to treat you?”

“Nope.”

He turned to glare at Jihoon again. “Favouritism. Clear favouritism. I’ll remember this.”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Jihoon argued with a puzzled frown of his own.

[W.JH.: tie her shoelaces]

Walks in the park or even just around the campus became a routine for the two of you very quickly. More often than not, your shared study sessions in the library would lead to a shared knowing look, standing up in silence, and heading out the door for a break. Always hand-in-hand, like puzzle pieces.

The weather was windier than usual that day, blowing dead leaves and hats around the park grounds. Who knows how long it would be before snow would join the items flying in the wind – the temperature of the air certainly suggested it would happen soon. 

Jihoon barely managed to catch your scarf before it fell victim to the wind. 

“Maybe not the best day for a walk,” he concluded with a sheepish laugh while wrapping the scarf around your neck a little tighter than before, making sure it wouldn’t fly again. 

You laughed along. “Yeah, maybe we should’ve gone to the café instead.”

He sighed deeply – as a joke – before narrowing his eyes at you. “Just say you’re dating me for café discounts. Admit it.”

“Well,” you hummed, “your staff discounts are definitely a bonus.”

He chuckled and nudged your side. “Do you want to go to the café then? Maybe some cocoa could warm you up.”

“But some fresh air might be good for you. Resets your brain and what-not,” you repeated his own words back to him with a mischievous smile.

“Is that–?” His jaw dropped. “How do you even remember that?”

“It was a very memorable quote by my favourite author,” you joked and pinched his cheek before grabbing his hand to lead him to the café.

You barely made it two steps before he was tugging you to a stop, his gaze lowered. You blinked. “Did something happen?” 

He didn’t reply. A message from Junhui flashed in his mind. Was he allowed to follow his advice like that? And if so, what was the best way to go about it? Crouching down? Leading you to a bench and making you lift your foot? Fully kneeling in front of you like the simp he was? 

Ears burning under your questioning stare, he finally leaned down onto one knee, his fingers reaching for your shoelaces. 

Your heart skipped a beat as realisation hit. 

With what you could only assume was practised grace (because who knows how many times he had repeated this exact gesture for his friends – Soonyoung alone must have accounted for at least twenty), he gently pulled your foot closer to himself and gently double-knotted the laces. He decided to re-do the other shoe as well if he was already on task. 

Once both shoes were undoubtedly tied and unable to come undone without permission again, he hummed in approval and stood back up, brushing the dirt off his knee before his gaze lifted to meet yours. He offered a sheepish smile at the dazed look on your face. 

“Why?” he laughed.

“You’re seriously–” you began but never finished, reaching for his hand instead. 

[K.MG.: give her a nickname]

Jihoon wasn’t very fond of nicknames. He wasn’t like Jeonghan who could come up with a new dumb nickname for every person he met or like Soonyoung who could react to any nickname thrown his way. Jihoon was just Jihoon and his friends were just his friends – no nicknames needed.

So, when he read Mingyu’s message, he froze. A nickname for his girlfriend? It felt like such an enormous task.

Stuck in an endless loop of processing even weeks after, Jihoon still couldn’t come up with a nickname that felt like you. Nothing sounded quite as pretty or as melodious as your name. Nothing came even close in his mind. When he thought of you, it was always just (Y/n). 

And it wasn’t like you had given him a nickname either. He would’ve noticed if you had – he noticed everything you did. 

If anyone saw into his brain, they would’ve seen a suspicious number of facts and quirks of yours. They would’ve thought he was a spy trying to steal your identity. But he was nothing of the sort. The only thing he aimed to steal was your heart (and maybe a kiss, or two, or two hundred).

Frankly, Vernon was sick of the sound of Jihoon’s pen rolling back and forth, struggling between gravity and Jihoon’s strength, on the slanted desk of their shared room. If having to contemplate cheesy pet names with a distraught Jihoon was the answer, Vernon was willing to sacrifice a bit of his sanity for a different background audio. 

“Maybe see if a pet name would work,” he suggested upon seeing his misery. 

Jihoon blinked. “Pet name? Like Fluffy?”

“No, like–” Vernon’s brows furrowed. “Dude, are you okay? Should I call a doctor?”

Jihoon only groaned and slumped over his desk, fully resting his cheek against it now. 

“I meant nicknames like babe and sweetheart and the sort,” his roommate explained, brows still set in a concerned frown. “Why would you call her Fluffy?”

“At this rate, I might as well.”

Vernon was scandalised. “Call her Fluffy?!”

Jihoon sat up straight to frown at Vernon. “No, see if I find a pet name I like for her. What is wrong with you?”

“You started it!”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. So, what do you have to offer?”

“Let’s start with the basics,” Vernon suggested, leaning back on his bed happily now that the pen was no longer obnoxiously rolling. “Babe?”

“Gross.”

“Baby?” 

“Even worse.”

“Sweetheart.”

Jihoon hesitated. “I– Maybe? Let’s put that under maybe.”

“Great! That’s progress,” Vernon cheered with a smile before resuming his position. “Then, what about dear?”

“Sounds so old-fashioned. I don’t want to sound like an English grandma whenever I call for my girlfriend.”

Vernon froze before nodding in agreement. “Yeah, you definitely have a point there.”

They were both tired of the guessing game by the time fifteen minutes passed. They bid each other farewell and headed their separate ways. It was only noon.

The solution? Non-existent. Jihoon still didn’t know what to call you.

And to add to his problems, he soon realised he hadn’t heard from you all day. Your chat was no more full than the previous evening, his call history was even worse off. He hadn’t even seen you on campus. 

Worry got the worst of him and now he was taking the first step instead of you. His worry won over his hesitation and he called you, lifting his phone to his ear all the while glancing around campus anxiously.

You didn’t pick up the first call. Nor the second. Before pressing on the screen to call a third time, he silently swore he’d run through all of your usual spots if you left him hanging like this. Heck, he might even call the police.

“Jihoon?” he then heard your voice through the phone and a stone fell off his heart.

He sighed in relief. “(Y/n), are you okay? I was worried.”

“Dorm,” you whispered meekly into the mic, elaborating no further no matter how much he prompted you. 

His frown only grew with every passing moment of silence on your part. “Do you want me to come over?”

“Please,” you whispered once again and then he heard the most heart-breaking sound: a soft sob. You were crying. 

He cursed under his breath. You were crying and he wasn’t there. “Hold on a little longer, I’ll be there.”

He wasted not a second more and sprinted to your dormitory. With his hands shaking from both worry and exhaustion, it took him two tries to get the door code right, but once the door clicked open, he dashed up the stairs and to your room. 

The door of your room was unlocked and ajar when he arrived and he just about fell through it in an attempt to lean against it for a quick breath. He stumbled into your room and his heart dropped some more, so close to shattering.

“(Y/n), darling,” he whispered before practically throwing himself into the spot next to you, already pulling you into his embrace, “what happened?”

You didn’t say anything, quietly crying into his sweater instead. Jihoon almost wanted to cry with you. “Talk to me. What happened? What can I do to make it better?”

“I fought with my roommate,” you whispered eventually. “I might have to move out.”

“Move out?” he wondered. “Was it that bad?” You didn’t answer, only letting out another soft sob as you further burrowed into his arms. He sighed. “Oh, darling.”

You remained in his arms for a while, stuck between crying over a lost friendship and relishing in his comfort. “I thought she was my friend. God, I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” he protested immediately, perhaps even a little too forcefully for your fragile emotional state. He sighed once again, deeper, before pressing a kiss to your temple. “Do you want me to help you find a new place to stay?”

“I could just ask to be assigned to a different dorm,” you mumbled. “It’s no big deal.”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to get your own apartment though?”

“I mean… It would be nice.”

“I can help you pay the deposit,” he offered. He wasn’t sure if he was always this kind or if seeing you so broken made him overcompensate more than usual – come to think of it: there was clearly a pattern forming.

Either way – he mentally ran over the numbers in his bank account –, he could afford to help. 

You sighed. “You don’t have to, Jihoon, it’s fine–”

“Don’t argue with me,” he warned half-jokingly. “Do you want to get your own place or not?”

Still leaning into his chest, you looked up at him. “You’d– You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he shrugged as if he had only offered you a candy bar. “Besides, if you get your own place, I benefit too.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Vernon not letting you sleep in again?”

“I’ve never wanted to strangle someone so bad,” he whispered while squeezing his eyes shut. “And he’s so messy. I need a break every once in a while.”

“So, your only condition is that I let you sleep over?” you chuckled and kissed his cheek which promptly turned red. “Why not just move in with me then?”

He blushed harder. “I think it’s too early for that. Maybe in a few months.”

You pouted at that. “You’re so mean. I was so ready to celebrate moving in with my boyfriend. Tsk.”

“Give me a few months,” he whispered – promised. “I’ll be with you in just a few months, darling.”

[J. WW.: take her on a picnic in the park during your free period. i hear the cherry trees are blossoming.]

Sandwiches, cake from the café, a thermos full of your favourite tea, a blanket – was anything missing? Well, other than his courage, because he had been staring at the basket for at least half an hour now as if his feet were nailed to the kitchen floor. 

Even Vernon, as patient as he was, had begun to contemplate how to unglue Jihoon so he could freely access the fridge again. 

“Dude,” he finally sighed, “can you move? I’m hungry.”

“There’s food on the stove,” Jihoon mumbled off-handedly, still in a panicked daze. Vernon glanced towards the stove and found nothing on it. 

Why was he so panicked anyway? It was one thing to hesitate before kissing you, but this? This was worse. He was paralysed by fear and he didn’t even understand why.

It’s not like this was your first date.

“Have you never taken a girl out on a date before?” Vernon wondered, brows furrowing as he attempted to make sure his roommate hadn’t been replaced by a faulty android or a hologram.

And just as the words left Vernon’s mouth, Jihoon seemed to wake up. His eyes widened. “I’ve never taken a girl out on a date before.”

Vernon blinked. “You’ve been dating her since, like, fall.”

“Yeah, but she initiated everything,” Jihoon whined, suddenly hyper aware of the way his knees felt like jelly and his hands trembled. 

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

“First date?”

“She took me to the movies.”

“First kiss?” 

“She went in first.”

“Who asked the other one out?”

“She asked me.” Jihoon let out another whine. “God, I’m so bad at this whole boyfriend thing. Isn’t there, like, a manual or something?”

“If there is, you’d probably be better off,” Vernon pointed out with a chuckle. “Dude, if she’s stuck with you this long, then she’s not going to break up with you over you taking her on a picnic.”

“But what if she’s actually busy or it rains or–”

“What’s with you and all those what-ifs? Just get out there, take her hand and have a picnic.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Jihoon whispered and hung his head in shame.

“Because it is that easy.”

It was not, in fact, that easy. Jihoon tripped almost three times just on the way to meet you at the park – that’s how nervous he was. And it’s not like he was afraid of you or your reaction. 

He just wanted everything to be perfect. Because you were perfect. And if he couldn’t be perfect with or for you, what was even the point?

Still, even as his nerves threatened to make him throw up in a nearby garbage can, he braved through the anxiety and made his way over to you. He forced on a smile as he approached you, but it soon melted into a genuine one upon seeing your excited grin.

“Hi, darling,” he whispered before leaning over to kiss your cheek. “Did you have a good day?”

“It’s barely afternoon,” you joked. Jihoon grimaced: first strike. Two more and he’d pay someone to throw him off a bridge. (He noted that Seungcheol or Joshua seemed like a good choice for that.)

“So,” you rubbed your palms together after helping him set the blanket on the ground, “what are we eating?”

He breathed out shakily before opening the basket. “So… there’s sandwiches – I didn’t know which ones you’d like more so I made a bunch of everything, but if you don’t like any, I’ll run to the store and–”

“Jihoon,” you stopped him with a stern smile and a pat on his cheek – strike two –, “baby, stop acting like it’s the first time we’ve interacted. There’s no need to be shy with me. I love you regardless.”

“I’m sorry, I just–”

“Stop apologising.” Strike three – might as well decide on a bridge now.

“I just want everything to be perfect for you,” he admitted with a sad smile, “but I guess I get too in my own head about it and then–”

You leaned forward and kissed him before he could go any further. When you leaned back, his eyes were wide in disbelief. 

“You– Why did you do that?”

“You were rambling too much.” You smiled at him again, sweeter this time, before kissing him once more. “Everything is perfect already. This picnic is perfect. The weather is perfect. This moment is perfect. You’re perfect. Don’t worry so much. Just breathe and enjoy.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours once again: a gift because you always knew exactly what to say.

“So,” your smile never seemed to fade, “can you stop worrying about everything now?”

He breathed out a defeated sigh and nodded, earning a cheer from you. 

As the two of you began eating, he made conversation, “So, how’s your apartment search going?”

You shrugged. “I’ve found two places. I’m going to see the second one tomorrow, but the first one is very nice. Like, way too nice for that price.”

“And that’s bad somehow?” He laughed.

“It’s way below market rate. It’s too good to be true,” you told him with a soft sigh, closing your eyes as he mindlessly reached to play with your fingers. “I wonder what the quirk is. Like, why is it so cheap? The landlord seemed like a sweet woman and all, but there’s bound to be something weird about that place, right?”

“Maybe it’s haunted,” he joked, making a ‘scary’ face as he stared at you, only to prompt a laugh. 

“Will you come and save me if it is?”

He grimaced. “Hell no. Ghosts are scary business. You’d have to find a different boyfriend.”

“Fine, fine,” you laughed and patted his cheek, “leave all the saving to me instead, then. I’ll protect you.”

“My hero,” he swooned, a hand over his heart. 

You stared at the ceiling of your new bedroom, practically vibrating with anxiety about the day to come as well as the added responsibilities of adulting outside of a dorm. 

Jihoon, having agreed to stay a few nights for mental support (and a Marvel movie marathon), gave you a weird look.

“Sorry,” you apologised and willed your body to stay still, sure you had annoyed your boyfriend into leaving, “I guess I’m just more nervous about tomorrow than I thought.”

“I think you’re overthinking this,” he chuckled and leaned over to brush a stray hair off your forehead. “It’s just a seminar. You’ve been to those before.”

“Yeah, but this one’s in a foreign language,” you whined and rolled over to hide your face in his chest. “You know my French sucks.”

He scoffed but was thoroughly amused. “I’ve never even heard you speak French.”

“Exactly. Point proven. Now let me suffer in peace.”

Jihoon sighed and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer and pressing his lips to your head. “Is there any way I can help you feel better?”

You shook your head ‘no’ and burrowed further into the comforting darkness his sweater provided. You had no interest in being comforted – what you needed was to go to sleep before 3 am and not wake up with nightmares. Unfortunately, Jihoon couldn’t do that for you, as amazing as he was.

He was just as stumped, but less in the mood to give up. In fact, he was rarely in the mood to give up. 

Still feeling you shaking in his arms, he reached his free hand to get his phone and text the group chat once again, begging for help as he had done so many times before. The help came faster than ever before, as if his friends had a shared 7th sense for Jihoon’s girlfriend troubles.

[C.VN.: bro, arent u good at singing? have u sung to her?]

[but… what do i sing?]

[K.SY.: a song.]

[whaT SONG?]

[X.MH.: you’re literally a music major, i’m sure you can think of a song or two??]

[i’m a uni student, not a jukebox??]

With sleep still unwilling to claim you, you sighed deeply. There was no room to further burrow into your boyfriend’s comforting embrace. An idea hit: maybe a cup of nice peppermint tea could calm you down. 

“Ji, can we go make–” you quietly began but were interrupted by a soft rumbling of his chest. And then you heard it: he was humming. You lifted your head to watch him, unable to tear your eyes from the way his lips oh-so-gracefully parted to sing to you, even as he was still searching for the lyrics on his phone.

Suddenly realising you had said something, he paused, eyes widening as he looked at you. “Sorry, did you say something?”

You shook your head no and continued staring at him. 

Awkward under you gaze, his ears flushed red. He avoided your eyes and turned back to his phone, scrolling through it as a distraction: ads had never looked so interesting before.

“Keep singing,” you whispered to him, hoping he’d hear your plea and fulfil your wish.

He took a deep breath, his hand freezing on the tiny screen. And just as you had hoped, his lips parted again. This time, he really sang, lyrics and all. His voice carried through your room, echoing back from the yet-to-be-decorated walls and filling the space in a comforting manner.

As you listened to him, you realised he had never sung to you before. He had hidden this part of himself for so long. And yet you were already enamoured with it. 

When he finished one song, his lips pursed back together and he hummed a mysterious melody that you could only suspect he had come up with on the spot to fill the silence. Then he began a second song, then a third.

By the fifth song, you were blissfully unaware of your daily troubles and the seminar waiting for you at 10 am. You were deep asleep in his arms, feeling the safest you ever had.

Upon realising you had finally succumbed to the call of dreamland, Jihoon chuckled and locked his phone. His newly free hand reached to stroke your cheek. 

“Little Miss Can’t Fall Asleep falls asleep a lot easier than she claims,” he joked to noone in particular and craned his neck to press another kiss to your temple before settling back down and closing his own eyes. 

[S.SC.: go shopping with her. i’m sure she needs some things for her new place. she might appreciate the company.]

“I still don’t understand how you don’t have a car,” you started up the topic for the third time this hour. 

Jihoon had never considered you annoying before – not even to the mildest extent – but he was slowly starting to get annoyed. He sighed. “Getting a licence seems like such a hassle.”

“It’s freeing,” you argued, amused by your new-found ability to annoy him even the tiniest bit. “You don’t depend on public transportation or your friends anymore. It’s great.”

“I can get everywhere on foot just fine.” He rolled his eyes and lifted a hand to cover your mouth as you began to speak again. “Didn’t you say you needed new towels? I’m pretty sure we walked straight past those.”

Unable to form proper words under the weight of his hand, you just hummed and let him lead you back to the towel aisle. It was only once you were there that he removed his hand again, wiping it against his hoodie. “Why do you need new towels anyway? It’s not like the ones you’ve used so far are contaminated.”

“It’s the principle, Jihoon,” you told him while scanning through the options. “New place, new me – that type of deal.”

“Sounds like a trick of capitalism,” he joked and leaned his torso forward against the shopping cart you had already half-filled with baskets, blankets, cushions and pillows of all shapes and sizes. 

You turned to glare at him. “Are you my boyfriend or my financial advisor?”

“Both, if you pay me well enough.”

“Whatever. What colour towels should I get?”

He shrugged. “I’m a big fan of the colour black.”

You sighed. “That’s so boring. How about blue?”

He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes in thought. “I could be persuaded.”

“I’m taking that as a yes,” you sang and picked up two of the larger fluffy blue towels – one lighter and the other darker in shade. You barely managed to fit them in the cart before your eyes lit up with a new quest in sight. “Oh, we need slippers too.”

He only hummed and swiftly (or as swiftly as one can move a shopping cart that clearly has never been maintained in the 10 years it's been in use) manoeuvred the cart to follow after you. Once he finally found you in the footwear aisle, he was confronted by two pairs of slippers – one black, the other baby pink – in his face. He tilted his head to offer you a confused look.

Without any malice behind it, you sighed and rolled your eyes. “Pick a colour.”

“Black.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I know you’re waiting for me to tell you ‘pink’ and I’m not giving you nor Mingyu that satisfaction,” he countered before nodding towards his colour of choice again. “Black.”

“Fine,” you sighed in defeat and placed the pink ones back, only to pick up a different size of the same colour and place it in the cart. 

His eyebrows rose. “What are you–?”

“What size slippers do you wear?” 

“Me?” He frowned. “Why would my opinion on any of this matter? It’s your apartment. Why are you making me choose the colour of the towels and the shower curtain and the–” 

He fell silent, his mouth still ajar in wordless awe as the realisation hit. You tried your hardest to act cool under his disbelieving stare.

“I– I’m not moving in with you,” he whispered, his eyes softening as he reached for your arm as if to comfort you. “We talked about this. I still need some time.”

“I’m not asking you to move in yet,” you laughed sheepishly, avoiding his gaze. “I just thought it would be nice if you could visit without worrying about bringing your things. You’re my boyfriend. I just want you to be comfortable when you come over to stay the night or when you don’t feel like going back to your and Vernon’s place after a long day and–”

Your words faded to the background as he continued staring at you. He was so used to being the one full of hesitation, overthinking his actions, trying to act nonchalant when he finally committed. Seeing you do the same? His heart grew two sizes larger and suddenly he couldn’t contain himself. 

Without thinking about it, he pulled you into a hug, effectively silencing your doubts and rambled justifications just like you had done for him so many times before. 

“You should’ve just said so, silly,” he laughed and held you even tighter.

[C.VN.: u know, i heard study dates are popular with the girls]

[you’re just trying to get me out of the dorm, aren't you?]

[C.VN.: u cant prove anything]

Sitting across from him in the living room, you watched in silence as Jihoon tapped away at his keyboard. His fingers seemed to fly across the keys at the speed of light, typing out a word and then deleting it. He did so a thousand times before huffing out a sigh and leaning his head back to glare at the ceiling.

“Have you tried taking a break?” you asked him softly, wanting not to scare or irritate him.

His head lolled back to a normal position and he offered an unamused raise of his brows. “Have you seen me take any breaks?”

You grimaced. “Then maybe it’s time to take a break now.”

“Sorry, darling,” he sighed and shook his head, “I need this essay finished by midnight. I’ve been putting this off for too long as it is.”

 You glanced at the clock. “Midnight’s still 10 hours away though. You have time to take a break.”

He rolled his eyes and glared at his laptop screen. A blank page with only the title ‘Western Philosophy 101 Final Essay’ mocked him. “A break from what? I haven’t even done anything.”

“You’ve been thinking hard.”

“Darling, I don’t think you understand how essay-writing works. There’s no use in thinking if no writing comes out of it.”

You reached over to take his hands off the keyboard. His fingers instinctively wrapped around yours, squeezing them just enough to comfort the both of you. “Writing will come out of it if you just relax and just take a break, I promise.”

Jihoon wanted to argue, he really did. But then he looked up from the screen and into your eyes, tempting him to just agree. And while he wasn’t one to give up easily, he was definitely someone who wanted fulfil every wish his loved-ones ever made.

And so, he gave up this time. Defeated, he slumped his shoulders and sighed. “Alright, what do you have in mind?”

“How long do you have?” you asked, feeling mischievous all of a sudden. 

He glanced at his watch before shrugging. “An hour, maybe.”

That was all you needed to pull him towards yourself by the hands. He stumbled a little, just about falling into your lap with a whine of protest before settling exactly where he landed, too tired to care further. His eyes fell closed the moment he felt your warmth against himself.

Without even thinking about it, you reached down to play with his hair. The silky strands ran through your fingers with ease and Jihoon could only hum in appreciation at the gesture. While this wasn’t the cuddle position you had had in mind, you couldn’t say no to the rare chance to dote on your otherwise independent boyfriend.

“This is nice,” he sighed softly and nuzzled his face against your belly, happy to hide from his horrible philosophy final. He lazily opened one eye to look at you, admiring you with the same love as you did him. “We should do this more often.”

“I would love to,” you told him with a sweet laugh and he was glad that he was lying down because his knees felt a little weak all of a sudden. “See, I told you you needed a break.”

He hummed in agreement, closing his eye again. “I feel like I might fall asleep though. And then who will finish my essay? You?”

“How about I just wake you up in, like, 40 minutes instead?” you offered.

With a cheerful giggle, he hid his face further into the fabric of your shirt. His voice sounded muffled as he spoke, “You don’t like philosophy either?”

“Cried my way all the way through the midterms and swore to never take anything philosophy-related again.”

“That’s good. I should do that,” he slurred his words and before long, all you heard were his soft snores. 

Jihoon liked to think he wasn’t particularly clingy. He didn’t need constant assurance from his friends that he was still loved and wanted – he knew they liked and wanted him around. He knew that you liked and wanted him around.

But when your near-hourly updates about the randomest things you had seen and done were replaced by radio silence, Jihoon grew more and more anxious. Though he knew it was silly to think so, he couldn’t help but worry he had annoyed you into leaving him.

Throughout the day, he kept glancing at his phone. Even just a single message – heck, even an emoji – would make his day infinitely better. When he wasn’t staring at his phone, begging for any notification with your name on it, he was looking at the people around him in the hopes of seeing your familiar face among them.

The day went by without as much as a sign from you.

He felt silly. He felt dumb. He felt like he was going to cry very real tears if you didn’t respond to his text before midnight. 

He let out a loud sigh of relief when your nickname finally popped up on his screen. The tears gathered in his eyes dissipated slowly as he shakily unlocked the phone and tapped on your newest message.

[darling ♡: oh my god. i’m sorry for not answergi !! so sorry!!!]

Jihoon blinked away the remnants of his anxious tears and smiled at the sight of your words. You hadn’t left him just yet. He still had a girlfriend who cared for him.

[it’s okay. did something happen?]

[darling ♡: yeah hahah funny story actually…]

[darling ♡: i think i caught something and i’ve been trying to sleep it off haha]

And just like that, his anxiety was back. Jihoon straightened in his seat, one hand still typing while the other blindly searched for his jacket. 

[youre sick?,??m???]

[darling ♡: a little bit…]

[i’m coming over-]

Before you could send a message of protest, he shrugged his jacket on and headed out the door. Even though he realistically knew that he wouldn’t be much help and would just end up sick himself, he couldn’t just let you suffer all alone.

As he practically galloped down the stairs from his 3rd floor dorm, he texted the group chat for help and assurance.

[L.SM.: she’s sick?! make her dinner! what’s her favourite soup??]

Jihoon paused mid-step. What was your favourite soup?

He arrived at your apartment just ten minutes later, a bag in hand. You greeted him at the door, bags under your eyes, skin dull and lips dry. Jihoon couldn’t help but pout at the sight. 

“What happened to you?” he asked, reaching up to brush his thumb across the cracked skin of your lips. “Have you been drinking water at all?”

“The fridge is too far from the bed,” you told him with a defeated sigh before practically melting into his embrace. “I told you not to come.”

He scoffed out a laugh and began rolling up the sleeves of his white hoodie. “Well, I’m here anyway. And I’m making you food. How does tomato soup sound?”

“Like you don’t know how to make chicken soup,” you answered with a suspicious squint of your eyes. 

He laughed at that, ears turning red at the way you had caught onto his scheme. “Alright, I think you should go back to resting.”

“You should go to sleep too,” you argued. “It’s past midnight already and you have classes tomorrow.”

“I can skip a day.” He said it with such ease and carelessness that you couldn’t help but wonder who this man was because your boyfriend hadn’t skipped any classes in the entire time you had been together. 

Still, you were too tired to care. Soup sounded better than sleeping on an empty stomach for another 12 hours. 

“Can I at least help you cook?” you practically begged, hanging onto his arm as he began preparing in the kitchen. 

A little taken aback by your affection, he laughed nervously. “Aren’t you tired?”

“I think I’m starting to feel better actually,” you half-joked, watching with starry eyes as he expertly washed and then chopped the tomatoes. “Seeing you has recharged me with energy.”

“Yeah?” He hummed in thought before offering you a mischievous smile. “Then do you have enough energy to go and rest a little?”

Your face dropped. “Why can’t you just accept my love?”

“Because I’m pretty sure you’re feverish and standing up for long won’t do you any good, darling,” he whispered before pressing a swift kiss to your cheek and returning to his task. “So, go rest on the sofa. I can go get your laptop so you can watch something, if you want.”

“But what if I want to cuddle?”

“Cuddle a pillow.”

“You’re cruel.”

He rolled his eyes at your dramatic antics. Clearly the fever was affecting you worse than he had feared. “When I literally ran across the district to come here and make you soup at midnight?”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “Fine, you can stay,” he paused and gave a warning glare, even if it looked far less threatening with the smile playing on his lips, “for now.”

You let out a soft cheer and cuddled back into his side, resting your cheek on his shoulder as he made you soup. You marvelled at the graceful movements of his hands. You couldn’t help but wonder how many of his friends he had made food for. For now you were just glad to be one of them.

“I hope I recover fast,” you whispered. “Or maybe I should just stay sick forever.”

“Why?”

“I have a stupid presentation next week. I haven’t even started reading to prepare for it.” You buried your face into the fabric of his hoodie. He took a moment to press his cheek against your head in an act of assurance. You sighed and mumbled a final, “Stupid finals.”

He laughed at that. “I’ll get you some medicine tomorrow so you can recover fast.”

With a groan, you straightened up a little again to side-eye him. “Can’t you just leave me here to suffer? Or help me fake my death? What kind of a boyfriend are you?”

“The kind that wants his girlfriend to be healthy for our end-of-the-semester date night,” he answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

His confidence really made you wonder if you had forgotten about this clearly existing tradition between the two of you. But no, you were pretty sure he had just made this up. Or perhaps you were too loopy from paracetamol to remember. 

Either way, you let yourself get carried away into a fantasy of sharing a date night with only your boyfriend and no university stress. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

The end of the semester came faster than Jihoon or any of his friends would have liked. It snuck up on them between the despair and sleepless nights of the exam session. And he could not have been happier about it.

Once he had submitted the final essay of the semester – the very last graded project he’d have to submit before a well-deserved break –, he slammed his laptop shut and looked at you, still hunched over your laptop on the bed, re-reading the last paragraphs of your own essay.

“Hold on,” you told him upon feeling his eyes on yourself, “I’m almost done.”

“No rush,” he replied with a sweet smile before letting out a soft giggle of relief and falling back onto your mattress, his arms spread out as if to soak in the freedom.

As if the sight of your boyfriend basking in the glow of no more exams had motivated you to finish sooner than you planned, you hurriedly rushed to upload your final assignment. A green check mark appeared on the screen to indicate that you could finally join your boyfriend. 

With a loud cheer, you closed your own laptop and crawled over to where your boyfriend was lying. Immediately you burrowed into his side and sighed happily. “This semester sucked.”

“You can say that again,” he agreed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders like he had done so many times before. “But at least it’s over now.”

You hated to be the wet blanket but… “Unless one of us fails.”

He groaned and used the same arm to roll you away from him. “I hate you. Go away.”

You laughed at the way he scrunched up his face in distaste as if he had swallowed bitter medicine. “I’m just saying. We’re not safe yet.”

“We’re safe enough,” he declared and waved your negative thoughts away. “God, I hate you, now you’re making me anxious.”

“You don’t actually hate me,” you sang and rolled back over to him, settling right on top of him, your nose against his own. “In fact, you like me.”

He grimaced. “Unfortunately.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you gasped and sat up, resting your hand on his chest as you leaned upright to glared at him. “Unfortunately?!”

He laughed at your theatrics, giggling with his whole body, shaking so hard in the process that you lost your balance and fell back right on top of him. His arm came to rest around your shoulders again. Once he was out of giggles, he continued smiling and caressed your cheek. “You’re so freaking cute. It’s unfair.”

“Take back that ‘unfortunately’ and I might get even cuter,” you told him, a suspicious glare set on him. 

His smile never faded as he leaned up just a little, resting his entire body weight on one arm just to press his lips to yours. “I take the word back.”

“Good,” you decided and joined in his laughter before kissing him again, “because I kind of love you, actually.”

He froze. His eyes widened just a fraction, his lips parted in a silent gasp of surprise.

He stayed like that for long enough to make you worry you had made your move too fast. He liked to take it slow – you knew that. He had been taking it slow all this time. And now you’ve confessed and he probably thought you were ridiculous and dumb and–

“Darling…” His lips curled into a smile, his eyes turning into joyful crescents, and then he leaned in again. 

His hands came to rest on your cheeks, squishing them just a little as he pulled you to his lips. He kissed you again and again and again. 

He kissed you until you were dumb. He didn’t stop kissing you until you were sure you couldn’t form a single word that wasn’t his name. 

Then, eventually, with both of your lips swollen and eyes dazed, he leaned back and nuzzled his nose against your own. “I love you so, darling, I really do.”

It took you a moment to understand what he was saying. He had kissed you so dumb that you could’ve sworn he was speaking in another language. But finally, your brain caught up with the situation and a smile appeared on your face, bright and proud and full of adoration for your boyfriend. 

“You should kiss me like that more often,” you told him, teasing, trying to see what he’d do. 

He replied with a playful roll of his eyes and another kiss, a single one but much longer than the last twenty. 

“I love you,” you whispered again against his lips.

His smile only seemed to brighten even more at that. “I love you too.”

But as he was about to go in for another kiss, a loud vibration sounded from somewhere in the sheets. The two of you glanced around as the vibrations continued, breaking you from the romantic daze.

“Is someone calling you?” he wondered. 

“My phone’s been on silent since the dawn of time, babe,” you told him easily and helped him look for his phone. “It must be yours.”

Just when you said those words, the vibrations abruptly stopped. And then another vibration came, short and gentle this time. 

You found his phone under the pillows, Soonyoung’s contact name appearing alongside the missed call symbol and a minimised text message on the screen.

“It’s your tiger friend,” you told Jihoon and turned to hand the phone to him when the phone vibrated again with a new message coming in. 

It wasn’t your fault that the whole screen flashed to life with the message – what were you supposed to do? Not read it? 

[K.SY.: oh, nonie said u’re with y/n?]

And then another message arrived before he could take the phone from your hands. 

[K.SY.: have u told her u love her yet ??!?!!]

[K.SY.: the chat is rootin for u!!!! u’ve been good at following our advice this far. u’ve got this!!]

A mischievous smile appeared on your face as you read the message. Jihoon didn’t realise what made you react this way until he took his phone and read the message minimised on his lockscreen. He groaned as the realisation hit.

“Don’t start–”

“You told your friends that you loved me,” you beat him to it, reaching over to squish his cheeks and kiss his nose. “And you asked them for advice? You’re so goddamn cute.”

His ears got progressively more red with every word. He quickly swiped the messages off his screen and threw his phone as far away as he could without potentially breaking it. “It wasn’t like that–”

“I’m just teasing, baby,” you laughed and pulled him into a comforting hug. Poor man was mortified. “I do have to ask though: what kind of advice did you get from them?”

“Well,” he hesitated as you looked at him expectantly, “I wanted to be a good boyfriend, so… I asked them how to be a better boyfriend…”

You pressed your lips to his. “You’re a good boyfriend, Jihoon, I promise. You’re the best, actually.” 

“I had to ask my friends for help just to get the courage to initiate a kiss,” he confessed, squeezing his eyes shut as the urge to cringe and hide away under the bed overcame him. “I’m a mediocre boyfriend, at most.”

“I strongly disagree,” you told him and pulled him in for another kiss, “but we’ll work on your confidence, my love.”

♡ THE END! ♡

[hellfirenacht]

Wing Man Part 6

Fic Summary: Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie. (1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9)

Chapter Summary: What DID he mean by five? The second meeting.

5.1k words

A/N: How are we feeling in a post-"Flight of Icarus" world, y'all? I knew from the beginning that I'd want to add some of the lore in and let me tell you, I LOVE Ronnie Ecker. For those of you who did not read the book, or haven't had a chance to, Ronnie is Eddie's best friend who ended up with a full scholarship to NYU. They're siblings, your honor.

Also if anyone can show me on this map where the plot is going, I'd really appreciate it.

This late at night, the only sounds in the trailer park came from the occasional dog barking and the echoes of Eddie’s tapes blasting as he pulled up to Wayne’s trailer. His uncle was working tonight as usual, which would normally allow Eddie time to hog the tv before passing out for a few precious hours before he had to get up for school. 

Tonight however, his mind was buzzing with what had just happened less than an hour ago. He liked you, he wasn’t sure how much yet but he did. You were sharp and knew your stuff about metal. It helped that you were cute. Really cute. 

He liked seeing you in the passenger seat of his car, matching wits with his friends and ranting about Ozzy. He liked seeing you laughing and the way you watched him play. He really liked the way you had fiddled with the pick he’d thrown at you at the end of the set. 

Eddie had never done that before. He’d wanted to, but never had anyone’s attention like that before- no. That wasn’t true. There had been one other person who’d listened to him play like that, two years ago. 

Was he always gonna fold to the site of a pretty girl actually paying attention to his music? 

“Of course you are.” Ronnie’s voice echoed on the phone. “And I’m gonna laugh every time you do.” 

Eddie groaned, holding the receiver to his ear as his forehead pressed against the front of the fridge. He hadn’t planned on running to her with this, but he was nowhere near able to wind down. He hadn’t even expected Ronnie to pick up the phone this late at night with the time zone difference and the fact that it was a school night. He’d have to push his stash a bit harder to pay Wayne back for the long distance call. 

The past two years had been a slow crawl of building back trust up with Veronica Ecker. The two had gone almost a whole summer without talking before Eddie had basically groveled for forgiveness outside of Granny Ecker’s trailer before Ronnie left for New York. She had forgiven him enough to let him give her a ride to the airport. 

“Last time?” He’d asked. 

“Last time.” She’d repeated. 

“So why didn’t you shack up with her tonight?” Ronnie asked. “You got her into your van, and you dropped her off like a gentleman.” 

“I don’t know, I panicked.” Eddie sighed, bonking his head against the fridge a few times. “She was right there, and she was leaning in and all I saw was Paige leaning in-”

“You know not every girl who shares your taste in music is Paige, right?” Eddie could practically see Ronnie rolling her eyes on the other end of the line. 

“Any girl that shares my taste in music ends up fucking off to the opposite end of the country.” 

This made Ronnie laugh. “You’re an idiot. Paige fucked off back to her job and I fucked off to college.”

“Fucking off is fucking off.”

“Maybe you need to fuck off.”

“I tried, remember?” 

She remembered. Both of them remembered. 

“Look, stop being a dipshit.” Ronnie said after a moment of awkward silence. “You’re graduating this year, right?”

“Uhhh...”

“Eddie.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m working on it. I just need those last stupid two classes and then I’m home free.” Eddie confirmed. 

“You can’t stay in high school forever.” Ronnie said. “And you’re gonna realize that there’s life outside of Hawkins. Have you even talked to Paige since then?”

He hadn’t, and they both knew it. Eddie gave up two months after she’d bailed him out of jail. Two months of dead air silence. He got the hint. 

“No.”

“Then stop worrying about one girl from over two years ago!” Eddie could feel the phantom pain of Ronnie punching him in the arm like she always used to. “Get laid and graduate, Munson. You earned it.”

Eddie snorted, sliding down the fridge to sit on the cool floor. “Is that the only advice you got for me, Ecker?”

“It’s the only advice you need. Did you pass that test last week?” Ronnie asked. 

“By the skin of my teeth.” Eddie sighed, leaning his head back against the fridge. 

“Your new girl graduated, maybe she can help you study.”

“She’s not my girl. She’s a girl that I’ve met a handful of times-”

“That’s turning your brain to mush.” 

“She doesn’t even know who I am, Ronnie.” He fiddled with the chord in his hand, watching the spiral wind and unwind around his fingers. It was already stretched out pretty bad, with a few spirals already tangled beyond repair like his old slinky from when he was a kid. 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Ronnie asked. “She doesn’t know you, that means she doesn’t feed into the bullshit of the rumor mill.” 

Ronnie had a point and he hated it, but that’s why he called her to begin with. Ronnie was the only person who could cut through his Munson bullshit and give it to him straight. He missed it. As much as he enjoyed the power he had to protect his little lost sheepies, they were all too intimidated to actually stand up to him and call him out the way that Ronnie would.

“Yeah, you’re right. As usual.” Eddie could hear her snort and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “So why the hell are you even awake right now? Up til 2 am on a school night, Ecker?”

“It’s barely past midnight, the time zone isn’t that off. I was studying for a test, but hearing you complain about your love life is a far more productive use of my time.” 

“You’re using me to slack off, aren’t you?” 

“If I have to look at my flashcards one more time tonight my eyes are gonna go square. How’s Granny doing?”

“She’s an empty nester and is determined to turn me into her replacement grandson until you visit again.” Eddie shook his head. “She threatened to give me a haircut the last time she dropped off a plate for Wayne.”

Ronnie had come back to visit a grand total of five times since she’d left, returning for holidays and summers to visit Granny Ecker and by extension Eddie. Each time she’d come back with stories of law school and how different New York is. 

It seemed impossible, everything that Ronnie had told him about going to college and about life outside their small town. She was playing Dungeons and Dragons still, having found a group that would play with her. According to her, being a rules lawyer for the game at a law school hit way different than it had their small Hellfire group in high school. No one even cared that they played outside of a few students who had better things to do than enact violence against a few nerds. 

Then again, in law school everyone was some sort of nerd. Eddie wondered if even a freak would be accepted there. Well, socially at least. He wasn’t delusional enough to think he’d be able to be accepted into law school with his grades. Ronnie had invited him up to visit a few times, but there was never time or money to do it. 

The two continued talking for another hour, catching up until Ronnie was scolding him for staying up so late on a school night. 

“Yeah? And what’s your excuse?” Eddie said. “It’s almost 4:20 am there.” 

“Ha. Ha. Again, ha.” Ronnie said. “Still not how timezones work. And my first class doesn’t start until noon.”

Right. In college you didn’t have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn every day. 

“Night, Ecker.”

“Night, Munson. Graduate and get laid.” 

“Does it matter the order?”

“Good night, Eddie.”

Talking to Ronnie had eased his nerves, but there was still something inside that wouldn’t let him lay down and go to sleep. It was late now, way later than he intended to stay up tonight. The night he played at the Hideout always had him up late, and his teacher already considered him more useless than usual on Wednesdays. It’s not like anyone would care if he slept in class, unless they were in a particularly foul mood. 

He made his way to a stack of books in his room rummaging through a pile or two until he found what he was looking for. Eddie’s copy of Lord of the RIngs was well loved at best, and completely trashed at worst. The cover of the paperback was nearly torn off, taped back together haphazardly over the years. Pages were dogeared, the spine was cracked, notes were scribbled in the margins, and his name was scribbled in messy cursive on the front page declaring that this book belonged to Eddie Munson and that he was in third grade.

Eddie stripped out of most of his clothes, tossing his jewelry on his nightstand, and hopped into bed. He turned on a small lamp and opened the book. He could probably recite the first chapter from memory if he tried, the words on the page a comfortable lullabye for his wound up mind. But tonight he flipped to a page near the end where his bookmark was. The flower made out of blue construction paper wasn’t nearly as old as the book, and only in better shape because it never left the safe pages of Tolkein’s writing. 

His eyes glanced at his arm again, your phone number a temporary tattoo on his skin until it washed off. Shit, it was going to wash off eventually. Eddie grabbed a pen from under his bed and added another scribble to the inside of the book before copying your number carefully onto the paper flower. At least this way he’d always know where it was. 

With that aside, Eddie didn’t make it through three pages of his book before he passed out with the light still on. 

Fall Semester, 1984

The PrinciPAL’s office was just as interesting and inviting as it always was, which is to say not at all. Eddie was slumped back on a chair, watching as Janice sorted through paperwork, pretending to look busy so that she could avoid any small talk with ‘that Munson boy’. He had been waiting for Higgin’s to show up for almost fifteen minutes now, because why shouldn’t he waste Eddie’s time at this point? The worst that was going to happen today is that they’d do their little song and dance, Eddie would plead his case that the flyers were absolutely serious and that Chris Morrison had every intent to run for student council, and that it was all of the club that had made the posters, Higgins would shake his head and not believe Eddie for a second (which to be fair, this would be the first time that Eddie would admit privately that it was his fault), they’d go back and forth until Eddie got some form of detention or Saturday school. 

Honestly, the worst part would be rescheduling Hellfire if he wound up in detention. 

Eddie had counted out 13 paper clips that Janice had used in her papershifting before the door to the front office opened up again. He looked up, expecting to see Higgins walk in, ignore him for another five minutes, before Janice would let Eddie go in. 

He didn’t expect to see you, pale and shaken, clutching a teacher’s note in your hand. Eddie watched as you handed the note over to Janice who read it, shook her head, and pointed at the chair next to himself. Your eyes never left the floor as you sat next to him, staring at the cheap carpet as if you could somehow burn a hole in it and disappear. 

Trouble was no stranger to Eddie, and Eddie was no stranger to trouble. In Hawkins the name ‘Munson’ might as well be in the thesaurus next to the word. This wasn’t his first rodeo, and it would be far from his last as long as Higgins stayed the princiPAL. He’d walk away with a lecture and a sigh and then it would be business as normal. 

The look on your face though, that was far from the mild annoyance he felt. You look downright traumatized at the idea of having been sent here. Eddie glanced up at Janice who deigned to make eye contact with him now. Her eyes flicked between the two of you, a disapproving look behind her purple frames as if this was somehow Eddie’s fault that you had ended up here as well. But then, as far as any of the faculty from the office was concerned, even him being enrolled at this school was a death sentence to the rest of the poor student body. Eddie was a disease that they would try to contain until they had the cure to remove him. 

The shaking of your knee made your chair (and his chair by proxy) rattle slightly. The quiet of the office and the mundane shuffling of Janice’s papers only added to the tension that was radiating off you. 

“Janice, is Higgin’s gonna be long?” Eddie finally asked, and your bouncing knee stopped for just a moment before going back to its nervous movement. 

“He’s in a very important meeting.” Came the reply over a stack of papers, still not looking at Eddie. 

He sighed again and looked over at you, trying to place where he knew your face. Your eyes were a bit red, and you looked like you were on the verge of crying. Shit, he needed to do something before he had to ask Janice for the tissue box. 

“First time?” Eddie asked, and when you didn’t respond he nudged your knee with his. 

You jumped slightly, head snapping up. It was a wonder you didn’t give yourself whiplash and it would have been almost funny to Eddie had you not looked like a deer in the headlights looking at him. 

“I... Huh?” your voice cracked slightly. 

“What are ya in for?” Eddie did his best to give you a smile which he was sure made him look more like a serial killer than a comfort. It was rare he wished that he had his dad’s smile, but in cases like this he’d make an exception. 

You looked at the paper in your hand and swallowed. “Uh... skipped.” 

“Skipped school or just class?” Eddie prompted, trying to get you to talk more. If you were talking, then you weren’t crying. That’s what he hoped at least. 

“Class.” He didn’t think you’d say anymore but you surprised him. “US History.” Eddie caught the way your eyes darted to Janice again as if to make sure she wasn’t listening in, but Janice had better things to do than to eavesdrop on two delinquents. “I wasn’t... I had a bad day. I'm having a bad day. I felt like I was going to explode and I went to the library.” 

Eddie nodded, wondering what had happened today that made you need to duck out. It wasn’t his business, and frankly Higgin’s was going to grill you enough as it was. 

“Rookie mistake.” He said instead. 

“Rookie...?” 

Eddie kept his voice low and leaned in closer to you as if telling you a secret. “If you’re gonna skip, you can’t go to the library. You might as well have walked into the teacher’s lounge and announced that you were cutting class.”

You let out a sharp breath that he swore counted for a laugh. “Thanks for the heads up, can you tell me that a few hours ago?”

There was color returning to your face now and Eddie kept going. His brown eyes scanned your face, trying to place where he knew you from. Hawkins was a small town, and there was nothing about you that screamed ‘I’m new!’. 

He liked your sarcasm though, and his ‘comforting’ grin shifted into a genuine smile. “If you’re gonna ditch, you need to go to the bathroom or go outside.” He said. “Especially for last period. Go hide outside in the woods and you can slip into the parking lot seamlessly without anyone noticing. By the end of the day the teachers are barely taking attendance anyway.”

“Have you been in the girls rooms here?” you asked, shaking your head. “I think I’d rather take my chances here than stay in there longer than I’d have to.” Eddie wasn’t sure if you were trying to make a joke or if you were serious.

“Would you rather hide in the boys room?” he asked. “I swear it only smells like piss almost all of the time and you’d end up in the splash zone even if you were in a stall.”

That got a laugh out of you, a genuine one. Your shoulders were relaxing and you looked down at the paper again and took a deep breath that you exhaled with a sigh. 

“I’ve never been in trouble before.” you said, your hands starting to bend and fold the paper on your lap absently. “I’m not good at being in trouble.”

“Well, lucky for you I’m here.” Eddie nudged your knee again with his. “Being in trouble is kind of my job here at Hawkin’s High. I’m a professional, you know. If I wasn’t here taking up all of Principal Higgin’s time he might have to actually do his job.” 

That last part was louder, as he directed it to Janice who refused to take the bait and only reached for her lilac stapler instead. 

A small smack on his arm drew his attention back to you, you were smiling at him looking astonished. “You’re gonna get us in trouble!” you whispered at him. 

“We’re already in trouble.” Eddie reminded you, his smile never fading. “Look, you’ve never been in trouble before, right? You’re gonna be fine. Just give him a good sob story about being overwhelmed with school, or about a sick pet. If you can squeeze out some tears that’s even better. The worst that he’s gonna do is give you a slap on the wrist and maybe detention if he’s in a shit mood”

You take in his words, listening to him carefully and taking in every word he was saying as if this was life or death. Eddie admittedly, had purposefully slipped into his Dungeon Master voice. It was a skill that normally only worked on his little sheepies in his club, and that was after semesters of training his players to listen and pay attention to his words or else it would be life or death for their characters. 

Having someone else listen to him like that? It felt really good. 

Your mouth started to open to say something but then the office door opened again and Higgin’s stepped in, nodding to Janice and then looking at the two of you. There was an accusatory look in his eyes as he made eye contact with Eddie again, and it was clear what that look said. Leave her alone, don’t make things worse for her than they already are. 

“Munson.” Higgins said and it took everything in him to stay still and not flinch at his last name. He was used to the weight that came with his name, but he hadn’t wanted you to know who he was. Not after he just remembered where he knew you from, glancing down at the note that you had folded into a flower in a fit of nerves. 

“I heard you missed me, Sir.” Eddie forced his eyes to meet Higgin’s. “You really should just start saying hi in the hallways instead of inviting me to these little chats every week. You’re taking away valuable learning time from me, you know.” 

If the two of them had been alone, Higgins would have snapped back at Eddie about being a smartass. But you were there, and the color had drained from your face again, and there was a shine to your eyes that was threatening to spill over your waterline. Higgins looked at you and motioned for you to follow him into his office. 

Eddie wished that you would turn and look at him before disappearing into the PrincePAL’s office. He could imagine you turning to look at him for comfort, he’d give you a smile that would put you at ease and a thumbs up. You’d give him another smile and walk in feeling brave. 

Instead it was like you forgot he was there as your figure disappeared behind the heavy wood door that shut with a heavy click. 

Of course Higgins had you come in first, even though Eddie had already been sitting here since the beginning of the period when he’d been called in. 

He was tempted to go over to the door and press his ear up against it to listen in on what he was saying to you but even Janice would scold him for that. So there Eddie sat for another ten minutes as he waited for you to step out again. 

Higgin’s was the one to open the door and let you out of the office, as if he were some gentleman instead of Eddie’s own personal warden five days a week. You walked out and to Eddie’s surprise you gave him a nod and mouthed thank you as you slipped back out the door and into the hallway. 

Eddie’s eyes followed you until he couldn’t see you anymore and it took Higgin’s standing in front of him with folded arms and saying his full government name for Eddie to snap back to reality. 

“Munson. A word about your little flyers?”

“Well, I’d say a picture is worth a thousand words-”

“In my office.”

Eddie didn’t remember much else about that talk, only remembering the white paper flower that had been carelessly tossed into the trash next to Higgin’s desk. 

“He still hasn’t called you?” Steve asked as you, him, and Robin continued your closing routine. The day had been busy, with almost everyone in Hawkins coming to rent a movie for the weekend. Robin was stocking the candy while you wiped down the sticky counter where children had been touching all day. Who’s idea was it to leave out free suckers on the counter anyway?

Oh right, that was your idea because you loved Halloween. 

“Nope.” you said, your voice a little tense. It had been almost two weeks since that night at the Hideout. You hadn’t returned to the dive bar, hoping that Eddie would call you and make the next move. Each passing day you had stayed as close to the phone as possible when you were home and you’d checked your voicemail every day when you got home for any sign that he’d attempted to reach out. 

Nothing. 

You shouldn’t feel this rejected but you did. It was far too early to tell if you had any feelings beyond initial attraction to the guy, but... you’d felt something. An enjoyment of bantering with him and an ease that came as naturally as your friendship with Robin and Steve. 

Plus, you had to admit it, he was really fucking hot. Seeing him play guitar two weeks ago had haunted your dreams and slipped into a few of your fantasies when you were alone. 

You kept that part to yourself though, that was the last thing that Steve or Robin needed to hear. Besides, that was Steve’s job to go far too into detail about his sex life. Steve had tried ribbing you about going home with Eddie but you’d told him that you were a complete gentleman with him. 

That night had left you feeling electrified, almost high as you danced around your room as you got ready for bed. Even as his odd parting rattled around your brain, you couldn’t help but to feel excited at the idea of seeing him again. 

Then a few days went by. Then a week. And now two weeks later you hadn’t heard from him. The kids hadn’t stopped by either so you couldn’t hassle them about Eddie either. Even if they had, you weren’t sure if you could ask about him, you didn’t want to come across as desperate. 

“Did you ever figure out what he meant by ‘five times?’” Robin asked, opening up a squished package of Reese's Cups. “Like, didn’t you say you didn’t know him?”

You threw your hands up before tossing the paper towels you were using to clean in the trash can. 

“I have no idea.” you said. “Either I’m bad at math, he’s bad at math, or maybe we’re both stupid.”

“He did get held back a few times.” Steve muttered to himself. 

“There’s a chance that you two have met before though.” said Robin, “I mean think about it, you’re both weirdos who went to the same school. Shouldn’t you both have bumped into each other before?” 

“You’d think so, but my group kind of kept to ourselves.” you said with a sigh. “We were private weirdos. When I DID try and make other friends-”

“Yeah, yeah, Chris Morrison shot you down.” Steve said, waving his hand. 

“Oh, you heard that story?” you laughed. “I didn’t think I mentioned it to you before.”

Steve gave you a blank stare that only made you laugh more. “I swear you keep talking about that guy more than Eddie. Maybe I should track him down and set you up on a blind date with him instead.” 

“Don’t you dare!” 

“Hey, that could be fun!” Robin added. “We’ll dress you up super hot, set you up with Chris, and then you can turn him down instead!” 

“Excuse you, Robin. I am always super hot.” you declared, straightening out your unflattering Family Video vest. “Who wouldn’t want a piece of this?”

You hadn’t done laundry in a week, and your hair had seen better days. The green polyester vest was wrinkled and if Keith saw you looking sloppy he’d probably have words about it. Not big words or even intimidating words, but words nonetheless. It was night and day compared to how you’d looked at the Hideout and the arcade earlier in the month. But it wasn’t like you had anyone to impress while you were at work anyway. 

“Hey, nerdy chicks can be hot.” Steve said. “I mean, Nancy’s an academic nerd and I was crazy about her.” 

You hummed thoughtfully and turned to Robin. “How about we get married instead?” you asked. “You, me, a fuck ton of cats, and a tax break. What do you say?”

Robin laughed and shook her head. “You aren’t my type.” Her eyes darted nervously to Steve for a split second and you sighed dramatically. 

“Guess it’s just me and the cats I’ll eventually adopt.” you said. “Not even a tax break.” 

“You know, Keith thinks you’re cute-”

“I am going to pretend that you did not just say that, Harrington.” you said firmly. “Nope, not happening. Uh-uh. Absolutely not.” 

“He’s not... that bad?” Robin said, but you could hear the pain in her voice through the laughter. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” 

“The lady is trying not to think actually.” you laugh. “We’re closed, I’m actually done thinking. I just wanna finish cleaning up and go home. What’s left?”

“Rewinding the returns,-”

“Ugh.”

“Cleaning up the kids movies,-”

“Ugh.”

“And cleaning the bathroom.”

“UGHHHHHH.” 

“Would you rather clean up the porn room?” asked Robin. 

“Yes actually, I would.” You said. “Whatever they think about doing in that room is what they do end up doing in the bathroom.”

“Gross.”

Steve sighed “Okay, I’ll be the hero and save you ladies from cleaning the bathroom. Robin, you fix the kids section, and you can rewind the tapes.”

“I thought I was in charge here.” You crossed your arms. 

“Okay, did you have a better way to divide and conquer?”

“...No.”

“Then let’s hurry up and-”

Ding!

“Who didn’t lock the door?!” you asked. 

“It was Steve’s job to-” Robin started. 

“Oh, shit. Hi.” Steve was staring at the person who had just walked in. You turned around and your heart jumped in your chest and your stomach dropped. 

“Cursing in front of customers, Harrington?” Eddie said. “Now that’s not very professional of you.”

Robin’s eyes were darting so fast between you and Eddie that you were surprised she wasn’t giving herself vertigo. You tried to give her a pointed glare but your friend either didn’t get the hint or refused to. 

“Well, we’re closed. You can’t be a customer if you can’t pay.” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips. 

Eddie looked away from Steve and made eye contact with you. It had been two weeks since you’d seen him, and you glazed at his arm for a second, trying to see if the faded remains of your phone number were still stamped on his arm. Unfortunately for you he was wearing a heavy leather jacket and you had not yet developed x ray vision. Perhaps in another genre. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” Eddie asked and you, ignoring Steve who looked mildly offended. 

You stood there in shock for a second before Robin nudged you in the rib. 

“I- uh. I have to finish closing.” you said, snapping out of it. 

“Steve and I can handle the rest of closing!” Robin grabbed Steve and shook his shoulder. 

“Guys, I’m literally in charge of you both. I can’t leave before you.” You said, already reaching for your bag under the counter. 

“We can handle it!” Steve said. 

“And I can handle Steve!” Robin added. “We close without you and Keith all the time, remember?”

You could trust Robin, and as long as Steve didn’t knock down any displays then it wouldn’t take them more than another ten minutes to finish up. You were so tempted to turn them down, make Eddie wait as you had waited for him for the past two weeks. 

But you were already stepping behind the counter towards Eddie and tossing the keys to lock up to Robin. Keith would murder you and write you up (in that order) if he knew what you were doing but looking up at the roundest pair of brown eyes you’d ever seen had you in the mood to make questionable choices. 

You shrugged off your vest and tossed it at Steve, in an attempt to make yourself look like you hadn’t spent the whole day dealing with unruly customers and screaming kids. Part of you almost wished that you had agreed to bathroom duty, if only to give you an excuse to look in a mirror and straighten yourself out. 

“Thanks, guys.” you gave them a quick nod, catching sight of Robin’s knowing smirk and Steve shaking his head before walking out the door that Eddie was holding open for you. 

The last thing you heard was the scrambling of the entrance to Family Video being locked. 

Part 7

Dividers by @strangergraphics

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[modx-reborn]

We’re back with cow hybrid!reader because god has abandoned us. Ok, listen, hear me out, some lactation shit with some country boy Sam- I’ve read some shit bestie and like Reader hooked up to some machines milking her while simultaneously being fucked, by machine or Sam 👀👀 -💫

Y'all really did see me say I'm fine with writing it and just whole ass brought it, huh? Nice.

There was some humour to be had as a cow hybrid that works a farm, well helps work a farm, the actual land belongs to Sam, the warden and local creeper hybrid that had started up these plots as a way to get away from the stress he faced on a day to day basis at his main workplace. But you were glad to help out, after all, it gave you free access to the wheat field and being able to have the smell of hay baked into your clothes, as well as some other benefits...

One namely being that when your more animal side decides to rear its head Sam is there to help you, as while most cows and humans only produced milk while and after being pregnant, as a cow hybrid it was a monthly thing that had ruined many shirts and sheets over the years, but here helping tend the field with Sam the moment the wet patches started to seep into your clothes or the ache in your chest started you had him.

Farm strong, warm-toned sam, who had no problems bending you over or seating you in his lap as he palmed at your chest, kneading at the soft skin before setting to work pinching and working on your nipples making you watch as he drew your milk out. Murmurs of sweet nothings lost in your mind as he did, to lost in the feeling of relief to pay more attention to how you had been grinding down onto Sam, rocking into the tugging, making soft noises more like you animal half than you normally would.

"Shh, Shh, it's okay. That's it, use my thigh as you like, gotta take care of my prize pet, always so helpful and pretty in my fields, work so well for me. Leak all over my fingers and sound so sweet when you do, maybe I should let you leak for a day or two next time, let it build and see just how much you can make for me hmm? Would you like that?"

Words hardly having meaning to you as between the feeling of his hands working your tits and how solid his thigh is under you, all he had to do would be ask and you would have agreed to anything. Anything to have him keep moving, keep idly bouncing his thigh and keep him milking you, working away till you were shaking in his lap having had that ache finally eased and simply enjoying the way his hand felt.

So warm and strong even now as they had been made slippery by your milk, god you were blessed to be allowed to work alongside Sam, anything was a fair price in your mind for this to continue on forever and always.

[batsandbugs]

The Great IKEA Game

Chapter 11: Playing the Game

AN: I hope y'all enjoy this non-stop flirt-a-thon, chapter count got increased again, so we'll get back to the plot in the next chapter!

At first, Marinette didn’t know how to act. This was the last route she expected Damian to take. The shock of Damian’s lips against hers turned her body rigid; hands splayed out to the sides, unsure of where to touch. After a second of floundering, she gained enough bearing to place her hands firmly on Damian’s arms. Her once still lips hesitantly moving against his. The closed-mouth kiss stayed chaste, but Marinette found herself fluttering her eyes closed, sinking into the warmth.

Damian stood taller than her, bending into the kiss while she craned her neck. Marinette pushed herself upward, arching onto the tips of her toes, and Damian’s hands wrapped tighter around her waist, deepening the kiss. She readjusted her mouth for a second grabbing a quick gasp of air before diving in again with more fervor. Damian responded in kind, pushing her back fully against the wall, one hand migrating from her waist to cup her cheek.

Damn. Damian was a good kisser.

“What the- Hey, customers are not allowed to be in here!”

Oh, right. The employee. That’s why they were kissing.

Why would kissing be helpful in this situation?

Not that Marinette was complaining, but-

Damian pulled away from her, and Marinette held back a pitiful whine when he turned away and faced the employee.

‘Bad thoughts, Marinette,’ she chided herself. ‘Focus on the mission, not Damian, or his lips, or his eyes, or-’

“Oh, sorry ‘bout that,” said Damian with a bashful smile.

Wait…

Blink.

What?

Marinette dragged herself out of the kiss-induced bliss, focusing on her co-conspirator, and had she been less in control of herself her jaw would have dropped.

Damian’s whole demeanor had markedly changed. His normal sharp posture sunk into a causal slouch; the emotions on his face, generally a mix of sharp observation or practiced disdain, now a mix of charming elegance and, yes, bashfulness. He flashed a wide grin at the oncoming employee, a person in their early twenties, who froze when they saw them.

Or rather, Damian.

Rapidly blinking bright blue eyes gazed at them. “Oh, oh you- you’re-”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know who I am,” said Damian, rubbing the back of his neck. Even the way he spoke changed; careful pronunciation and formality thrown out the window for a lax New Jersian drawl. “What’s your name?” He asked with such a genuine smile, had Marinette not been versed in people lying through their teeth, she would have bought it.

Not for the first time, Marinette wondered how famous Damian’s family was – obviously rich enough, and high profile enough - to be recognized on the spot.

The person paused for a moment, fiddling with a strand of curly blond hair. “I’m- I’m ah… Fey, nice to meet you Mr.-”

Damian cut them off with a laugh. “Oh please, any name with a mister makes me think of my father or my older brother. Call me Dami.” He offered a hand to the flustered Fey. They limply shook it.

“Oh… ah- alright Dami.”

Damian encircled a hand around Marinette’s waist dragging her out of the weirdness induced fugue state she’d fallen into. “And this… well,” he lowered his eyes, catching her attention and winked. “This is my girlfriend Marinette.”

Fuck, this is what he meant by play along.

Fey dropped open their mouth before closing it quickly.

“Oh, I hadn’t read-”

Damian cut the flustered employee off again.

“We’ve kept it quiet.” He waved his hand dismissively. “The papers would devour a story like this,” he said, with a sense of vapid annoyance, although a trace of his normal calculated disdain accented his words.

Note to self; Damian didn’t like the media. Good, Marinette didn’t much like the invasive vultures either.

Fey nodded along, twirling a lock of hair on their finger. “Oh yeah, that totally makes sense.” They paused shaking their head to clear away an emotion… awe? Fear? Marinette couldn’t tell. “But uh, why are you here? Like in the stairwell, not in the store. Because of course celebrities would still shop, right? I mean-” Poor Fey was a stuttering mess. Marinette almost felt bad for them.

She felt like an absolute stuttering mess too, but she would be damned if Damian would carry this lie all by himself.

She was fucking Ladybug; savior of Paris, Guardian of the Miraculous.

She could act like a lovestruck fool.

“It iz so sweet,” she said, emphasizing her accent to add a little more pageantry to this entire scheme. “I just arrived back from Paris, and wanted to decorate my new apartment with ze ah-” she waved her hands around, “Oh, how you Americans put it? Fairy lights?”

Fey nodded quickly. “Yeah, we have a couple of good selections, but-” Marinette continued before they could logic their way out of the made-up cover story.

“I planned to go by myself, but Dami-” at this she moved forward to wrap her arms around his, leaning into his side. The warmth of his body bleeding through his clothes. “He insisted on ‘companying me even though he dozen’t like ze crowds.” She leaned forward with a conspiratorial air. “He gets grumpy,” she divulged with a girlish giggle. Why Damian did a 180 on his personality was a complete mystery, but if he dropped the act, this would make Fey less suspicious.

Fey nodded right along like Marinette’s comment made total sense. “Yeah, I don’t read too many magazines, but damn they must pin you all wrong,” they said to Damian. From Marinette’s position at his side, she felt his body tense the slightest amount. “Gotham’s Ice Prince, yeah right.”

Marinette inwardly quirked an eyebrow. ‘Ice Prince, huh?’ The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on where she’d heard it before.

Damian nervously chuckled again, sounding more authentic this time. “Oh no, I’m a grump when it comes to the media, I fully admit. My, ah,” he looked at her again, an apology flashing in his green eyes. “Angel here puts me in a better mood.”

A rushing noise filled Marinette’s ears, and her heart quickened. She vaguely registered a squeal of delight coming from Fey, but it sounded far away compared to her blood pounding at a thunderous level. Heat flushed in her cheeks, and the confident smile she plastered on her face almost dropped at the pet name.

Angel.

He called her angel.

What level of utter insanity had she dropped into?

“A few disguises later,” Damian continued, adjusting the glasses on his face, and oblivious of the turmoil he’d created in Marinette’s mind. “I thought we’d be able to stay under the radar, I just wanted a day out with my girlfriend,” he said with a put-upon sigh. The emotional, charming actions stood in complete opposite to Damian’s normal demeanor.

Marinette found herself desperately torn between breaking down laughing hysterically or clapping at Damian’s masterful performance.

“You got noticed?” asked Fey.

“We got noticed.” Damian sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. Marinette regretted not touching it while she and Damian kissed; was it as fluffy as it looked? “And Marinette, the sweet angel she is, isn’t used to the whole utter insanity of… you know, dating a celebrity.” He glanced at her, teasing her with a fonder smirk than his usual. Marinette wanted to roll her eyes. Damian had no clue she knew very well the consequences of dating a celebrity.

Never mind she’d only dated Adrian a month before they broke up because his dad turned out to be a psychopathic supervillain intent on plunging the whole of France into an apocalyptic hellscape in an attempt to upset the universes’ balance, and was fully okay with killing the both of them to make it happen.

Being friends after that little debacle was the better option. For both their sanities.

‘Focus Marinette.’ She dragged her attention back to the conversation.

“We kinda ducked in here when nobody was paying attention. I want to keep this away from the media as long as possible, for my angel’s privacy.” Marinette wanted to scoff at how Damian leaned into that nickname. He certainly was laying it on thick. Marinette wouldn’t have bought the act, but that was due to her years of lying and deceiving in the name of super-heroics.

Fey, with their eager demeanor and bright blue eyes, didn’t stand a chance.

“Oh, that’s awful people wouldn’t leave you alone. I bet most celebrities would be familiar with the attention, but for you to look out for Marinette too?” They whistled. “Damn girl, he’s a keeper for sure.”

The blush gracing Marinette’s cheeks was 100% real. “Oh, well, ah, zank you. I know.”

“Well, no one will hear a word from me,” Fey promised. They fiddled with their hands and sent a shy smile at Damian. Marinette’s stomach clenched at the sight, and without her permission, her traitorous hands tightened their grip on Damian’s arm. “Without your family’s scholarship, my sister never would have graduated med school. She would kill me if I even thought of ratting you out to the papers.”

“Oh…” said Damian, his outward appearance of shock mirroring Marinette’s own internal emotions.

‘His family is rich enough to fund medical scholarships?’

“Well, that’s not on me directly, you know,” he commented. “All my father’s doing. I hope- ah… I hope she’s doing well?” Although his face portrayed a bashful and relaxed air, his body language screamed uncomfortableness. Marinette released one hand from his arm and brought it to rest on the small of his back, circling her thumb around. He relaxed, slightly, and Marinette smiled.

“Yeah, actually she is,” said Fey beaming. “She’s working at the new pediatric clinic that opened in Crime Alley.”

“Good for her,” said Damian honestly. “We need more people willing to work to make the city a better place. Money can only do so much.”

“Money definitely helps though,” Fey replied, wryly. Marinette agreed. Long-buried memories of her early years arose. Living above her parents’ shop, where every month they spread their bills across the kitchen table and talked in hushed tones while Marinette sat on the steps to her attic room and worried, even if at five and six she didn’t know what she was worried about.

Those days were long gone. Her parents and their creations internationally famous, with three separate locations across the greater Paris metro alone. But that worry never really went away.

Fey shifted on their feet reading their watch. “Well, you guys stay here if you want until whatever crowd out there loses interest.” They gestured to the door Marinette and Damian entered through. “Or you can come with me if you want?” Pointing to the other locked door. “I’m heading out to the atrium to deal with a problem, but you can continue on with your shopping.”

“Zank you so much,” Marinette replied. “We will go with you if you do not mind?”

“Of course not,” said Fey, walking to the door and pulling out a security key. They opened the door, but Damian held it allowing Marinette and Fey to walk through before he followed. Placing a hand once more around Marinette’s waist.

“What problem in the atrium, if you don’t mind me asking?” he prodded, sharing a look with Marinette.

It could be nothing, but it could also have something to do with his brothers.

Considering their luck today, Marinette would be shocked if it wasn’t the latter option.

“Oh, well it started with the children’s center shutting down. Apparently, the kids got it in their minds to start a dodge ball fight with the workers. Which, you know, totally fair,” confided Fey, as they walked through the back corridors. “Sounded like it was a blast to watch. I was such a shit when I was a kid, I would have joined them in a heartbeat. It wrapped up fairly quickly, but they can’t convince the main instigator to descend from the jungle gym. I think they’re still hunting down her parents.”

Marinette pursed her lips trying to hold back a smile. ‘Oh, Abby,’ she thought, ‘you absolute gem.’

“I only heard about it from Lisa when I got back because I was dealing with a security issue in the back lot.” Fey glanced at them nervously. “Not that there’s anything wrong, we’re perfectly safe.”

Marinette and Damian shared a look.

Jason.

“Of course,” said Marinette.

Followed by a quick, “Absolutely,” from Damian.

Fey relaxed. “So this is, apparently, a whole bunch of workers on strike? They walked out of the back warehouse and congregated in the atrium, spouting on about living wages and corrupt big business, and the effects of verbal abuse in the workplace.” Fey said with a wave of their arms. “And it’s not like I don’t agree, because I do. Jerry, the warehouse general manager, is an asshole.” Marinette and Damian exchange worried glances at the rotund angry man’s name, who they last saw dragging a singed Tim into an office.

“…but it makes my job hard,” whined Fey, oblivious to their compatriot’s inner panic. “And the Starbucks baristas joined them, so their kiosk closed too.” Fey chuckled, “I would avoid the whole area if I were you, especially if you don’t want anyone finding out you’re together.”

“I wonder how zat ended up happening?” Marinette asked hopefully her high-pitched voice conveyed confusion instead of slowly settling in panic.

“They called in saying some guy lead the charge, he’s worked the crowd into a fervor. I’m there to be the HR rep while security tries to remove him. You know, normally my job involves sitting at a desk all day listening to bitchy customers on the phone. I’ve dealt with more in-store problems today since last Black Friday.” Fey chuckled. “What a day, ya’ know?”

Marinette glanced at Damian, his casual mask still firmly in place, although his left eye twitched, and the hand he wrapped around her waist, tightened at Fey’s words.

Fey finally reached another door, pulling out their pass and lead them out into the store’s main section.

“Well, it was nice to meet you Marinette, Dami,” Fey chirped. “Nobody will hear from me about any of this.” They mimed zipping their lips.

Marinette smiled, hoping the strain wasn’t too noticeable. “It waz nice to meet you too Fey.”

“Good luck with whatever is happening in the atrium,” said Damian. They stood at the door and watched them move out of sight. When Fey finally disappeared around a corner, Damian turned to Marinette his casual persona rippling away as if it never existed at all. His hand slipped off her waist.

She did not, absolutely not, want to grab it and put it back thank you very much.

“How much do you wish to wager on Drake’s involvement in whatever is occurring in the atrium?” he asked. Marinette smiled, reassured at the return of his clipped and formal tone. The informal speech felt wrong coming from Damian’s mouth.

“Oh, I don’t know Dami?” she teased. Then again, she couldn’t let this opportunity pass by her. “I don’t think I have enough money for that bet with you.”

Damian closed his eyes with a grimace and sigh. “Do not call me that.” He opened his eyes, an expression just short of pleading radiated from them “Please.”

“I would rather gag, and it sounds so would you.” Marinette covered her grin with her hand, unable to stop a slight giggle at the man’s long-suffering tone. “You pulled off vapid lovesick celebrity well, but why the need to act at all?”

“I have plenty of reference to draw from,” he grumbled, piquing Marinette’s interest; every half aside comment enticing her to dig further at Damian’s life. “I needed whoever descended those steps on our side and my normal... demeanor tends to put people off.” He folded his hands behind his back, a perfect picture of casualness, but the tightness around his eyes and the twitch of his mouth was all Marinette needed to note his self-consciousness.

“Well, I for one find your usual self charming,” Marinette admitted, pleased when Damian relaxed at her words. “You freaked me out acting that weird.”

“It is not an option I use often,” Damian admitted. “My brothers tend to make big productions of themselves. I prefer a far subtler approach, but this required more theatrics to make it believable.” He glanced at her. “I hope…” he paused. She watched his hand flutter and turn into a fist at his side. “I hope I did not overstep your bounds, that is, I mean violate your...” Damian refused to look at her, his gaze firmly planted on a far wall.

Marinette could let the poor man continue but ended up taking pity on him before he dug an even deeper hole. She placed a hand on his arm. “You were fine. If I didn’t want you… kissing me,” she said the words out loud for the first time, reigning in a pleasurable shudder at the memory. “I would have pushed you off, and if I felt violated, which I didn’t, you would have found yourself on the ground in plenty of pain.”

Damian dragged his gaze back to hers, a small smirk twitching at the corner of his lips. “Undoubtedly, yes, you easily could have done so.”

Marinette smirked again, not willing to let the entire debacle slip away quite yet though. “Although I have to ask, where in the world did angel come from? And what on earth made you think it would be a good nickname for our fake relationship?”

Damian lifted his nose haughtily. “It is a perfectly acceptable name of affection for a significant other. What, did you wish for ‘sweetheart’ or ‘doll’?” he asked, drawing out those names with the earlier casual New Jersian accent. Marinette withheld a shiver at his low tone of voice curling those words around his tongue. She may prefer his normal speech, but damn he still sounded unbearably attractive when he dropped that low.

‘Focus, Marinette. FOCUS!’ she inwardly screamed at herself.

“Goodness no,” said Marinette, forcing a pretend shudder. “Something with more class perhaps? Darling, or beloved?”

Damian pursed his lips. “Not beloved. That’s what my mother refers to my father with.” Marinette winced, yeah, that could be awkward. Not that this whole conversation wasn’t a disaster plucked out of a fever dream. Why, why was she debating Damian on the finer points of affectionate nickname giving?

But her mouth continued talking. “Alright, I suppose angel isn’t bad in comparison. Still, it’s a bit cliché. What does that make you? A demon?”

Damian tilted his head with a shrug. “Tt. My brothers do call me that on occasion, yes.” Oh right, Jason called him demon-spawn a few times during their confrontation. With the way Damian rolled his eyes in annoyance, Marinette figured a story lurked behind that particular nickname.

“Regardless, we have strayed dangerously off-topic here. We should head towards the pandemonium in the atrium, yes?” Damian pushed off the wall he’d leaned against, and Marinette followed.

“I thought it was Panic at the Disco?” Marinette teased with a grin.

Damian pointed a finger at her, trying for a stern expression, but the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. “You think yourself terribly clever, don’t you?”

“I think I’m adorable,” she shot back. “But I also think you’re right. It sounds like Tim managed to involve himself. If he’s making a scene, I bet he’ll draw the rest of your brothers there too.”

“You think Grayson will escape the clutches of that ravenous she-wolf?”

Marinette scoffed. “Damian, you’ll insult wolves with that comparison. I thought she resembled more of a hyena myself.” The woman certainly shrieked enough for it. “From what I saw, your brother probably ducked out at the first opportunity available to him.”

“True. Which leaves Todd, and nothing attracts his attention more than a spectacle. Especially when Drake stands chance to make a fool of himself.” Turning a corner they found themselves several yards away from the open-aired atrium. A crowd of people lingered around the railing looking into the courtyard below. Clapping and cheers fill the air.

“Shall we?” asked Marinette, excitement brewing in her chest.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” grumbled Damian. “But I suppose we must.”

Tag List (or you can subscribe and read it here on ao3)

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[lupine-princess]

PSA

I am in the process of writing my first ever fan fiction. I have been a reader only for many years, but I finally listened to the encouragement the wonderful and esteemed @kittenofdoomage gave me at least a year or two ago now. Yeah, I know...it took that long for me overcome my own self doubt and silence the little demon in my brain that says mean things all the time, but I never forgot the lovely human above telling me to go for it.

While I am enjoying writing again (I've written for years but never really shared any of my work that wasn't for a class), I am finding myself having much more respect for writers than I already had and it was a LOT I swear. Just today I have spent an hour and a half on this story and the plot has moved forward...none. I've written quite a bit, but Main Female will *not* stop drooling over Main Male. Last night I stopped right after she firat saw him and her brain started functioning again. The story now just finished her reacting to him speaking for the first time. It took me an hour and a half to get here y'all! I mean girl, same, but this was *supposed* to be a one shot of maybe a couple thousand words. You know, just dipping my toes into writing again? This thing is now 10 pages long...I clearly underestimated a *lot*.

That's not to say there's not actual story happening, there is. But I'm a little freaked out by this and frustrated at the same time. Its a song fic, too so...given I'm telling the story of the song, it should have been easy-ish. Or easier than coming up with a story completely on my own right? Not. At. All! (And please note I'm not saying writing of any kind is easy, I just seem do better personally when I have something like a mental road map. Not everyone feels that way and that is totally fair and valid.)

Thing is, I shouldn't be surprised...this is a rabid plot bunny that has been tormenting me for *years.* The thing makes this thing ⬇

look like the very height of sweet and cute and cuddly. If I actually thought it would be quick or easy in any way, I clearly wasn't paying attention...

Anyway, I am going to be posting this thing in three parts on AO3 at the very least. On here, it might all be in one long post, because frankly, I have no idea how to do any of this or how complicated it will be. I'm really hoping someone will read it and give feedback, good or bad (constructive only if bad please), so I know what to work on. I really want to get back into writing again, so hopefully this will help?

I'm going to tag a few people when I post this thing (hopefully that's okay with them), because I follow them, love their work, and respect their opinions as writers. Anyone I follow that I don't tag, its not because I don't absolutely adore them, its because I can only summon so much bravery and that means that not everyone will get tagged that I would love to, unless they give me permission.

I'll go ahead a tag a couple of people so if they want to give or refuse permission, they can do that. Thanks in advance to everyone!

@kittenofdoomage @holylulusworld @impala-dreamer @jay-and-dean

[spurious-result]

For the Fanfic Writer Ask Meme: B, E, N, R :D

Thanks very much for the ask!

B:  What was the first fandom you read fic in?  Which was the first you wrote fic for?

Oh man, I'm going to date myself here. xD My very first fic-reading fandom was The X-Files, way back in the day. The first fandom I ever wrote anything for was Sherlock Holmes (I'm sorry, I'm an incredible nerd!), but of course it's just MGS nowadays.

E: What character do you identify with most?  Is there a certain fic of yours that captures these qualities particularly well?

Ah, in the MGS world I'd have to go with Otacon - I imagine he's a popular choice, lol. I suspect most of us have a little "stammering, insecure scientist who happens to be in love with the big beefy jock" somewhere deep down inside.

In all seriousness, though, I've always found Otacon to be one of the more heroic characters in the series, in his own quiet way. He overcomes a lot of personal baggage, and his own fear/insecurity issues, and always manages to Get Shit Done when push comes to shove. He doesn't do the flashy, 'blowing-things-up' part of the job, but he's consistently shown to be very competent at what he does. And when he has to do something that's very much NOT in his wheelhouse (like dragging his half-dead partner out of a river during a manhunt, or flying a helicopter full of hostages to safety right after watching his sister die), he steps up to the plate and does what needs doing.

In terms of fic, I'd say probably Taught By Thirst?? I am a huge sucker for Otacon being a terrified-but-competent badass in the immediate post-tanker aftermath, and that's a huge part of what that particular fic is about. He's the biggest unsung hero of the series, truly. ❤

N: Any fic ideas brewing that you’d care to share?

So many, lol! My problem is that I'm an *incredibly* slow, plodding writer, so it takes a long time to actually get anything to fruition.

Currently, I'm working on finishing up the last chapter of Or Else The Light... which is coming along nicely but DEAR GOD, it's going to be long. 😫 Hoping to have it done and posted sometime in the next couple of weeks or so.

Once that's finished, I do have several other ideas on the docket. In no particular order, they include:

Another longish, multi-chapter fic in the same series as Taught By Thirst, Everything That Rises, and Or Else The Light - set in the time period between MGS2 and 4, and dealing with their acquisition of Sunny and the start of Snake's accelerated aging issues.

A smutty 'sneaking suit sex' one-shot, because God knows I like PWPs as much as the next person and I have *thoughts* about how this might go down.

A "five times this happened" kind of thing with several loosely-related vignettes taking place at different times in the series, centered around scenarios where Snake runs into trouble in the field and Otacon has to deal with the aftermath - featuring different moods (awkward, funny/cute, angsty, etc.) depending on the details. Would likely include some bits from very early Philanthropy era, MGS4 era, and everything in between... kind of, tracing the evolution of their partnership (and, ahem... *partnership*, if you catch my drift) over time, through that lens.

R: Which writers (fanfic or otherwise) do you consider the biggest influence on you and your writing?

OH MAN, that's a tough one. I honestly think I take a little something away from almost everything I read, whether it's related to phrasing, word choice, character development, plotting, etc.

Because the truth is - writing any kind of fiction is fucking HARD, y'all. Much harder than I would have guessed, before I'd ever tried it myself. (How the fuck do people do this for a living??? Hats off, for real.) So nowadays, I like to pay attention to the mechanics of how the author is doing things when I read.

In terms of fanfic, when I was pretty heavily involved in the SH fandom, there was an absolutely amazing writer I still remember - she was very prolific, and her stuff was absolutely S-tier in every way. Beautiful prose, beautiful dialogue, story structure/theme that just got better the more you analyzed it, etc. Reading her stuff felt like reading a really excellent, beautifully-written published novel, and that was the first time it really struck me that fanfic could be... *that*, you know?

Don't get me wrong - I also like quick little character studies, and fun trashy smut, and everything in between! I also love that writing fanfic is something that literally anyone can try their hand at, and no one is necessarily expecting that you're going to sound like James Joyce. There is very little pressure to be "good", however one might try to define that - kind of like singing karaoke, in a bar. 😂 We're all just here to have fun, first and foremost.

BUT - I still remember the impression that made on me. And I still think about her now, when I write.

In the real world of published writing, there are SO MANY wonderful authors whose stuff I've loved. But in terms of... writing style, I guess? Word choice and phrasing, and the way a story is constructed - probably the two biggest standouts for me are Margaret Atwood and Tana French. I admire both of them tremendously.

[dreamsmp-au-ideas]

Once again I am bored and putting off updating so I’m coming at y'all with a brand new au idea. 

Blood God Deo.

The idea of Tommy accidentally befriending gods is hilarious to me for some reason, especially a Tommy who starts out as just some random kid. He has two reflexes whenever he meets a god, friend or fight. So far only Josh and Dream have both triggered the fight reflex.

Deo isn’t particularly open about being the Blood God. He doesn’t even particularly enjoy the job. Sure, he’s ferocious in a battle, but he holds back a lot and he’s no where near as blood thirsty as half of his Acolytes. The voices acting how they do wasn’t even his idea, it was actually a curse from another God placed onto all of his followers. The Original Chat was designed to essentially be a helper. They would help moderate the bloodlust of his followers (who were renown for loosing pieces of themselves to the slaughter) and in addition they’d know things that his followers wouldn’t like the position of enemies and special details about weapons and armor like durability or quality. Original Chat was able to see everything going on around the Acolyte and offer advice in case the Acolyte lost one of their senses or something else happened.

Deo stopped blessing people after Chat was corrupted (probably by Dream. I don’t think Dream should be a Chaos god like a lot of people decide he should be. He should rule over something like Control, Manipulation, or Betrayal, it makes more sense with his current character arc.) Deo starts only blessing people who have enough sense of strength, morality, and self to actually ignore Corrupted Chat, though sometimes if Deo interacts with someone they can become accidentally blessed without him even knowing (read as Techno). Deo kind of closes himself off at some point, hiding himself away on hypixel.

Then he meets Tommy. This little brat who manages to all but force his way into Deo’s good graces and eventually a role of friendship. The first friend Deo’s had in centuries if not longer. Gods have two marks they can give to people. Marks they actively or subconsciously give to their Acolytes and marks that they only subconsciously give to people they care about and want to protect. Their friends. Tommy gets the later and neither notice since the powers associated with the later don’t make themselves readily apparently unlike with a typical Acolyte. (Spoilers, Tommy gets a version of Original Chat that he doesn’t realize is there because Original Chat is way easier to block out and shut up than Corrupted Chat. Still annoying and playful while the marked actually pays attention to it but nowhere near as bad as Techno’s chat. I’m thinking that Tommy probably doesn’t even realize they’re there till exile when he’s so desperate for anything to speak with he’d even settle for talking to himself and accidentally opens the door for Chat.)

I’m thinking that maybe we can make the rest of Business Bay(Wisp Included) + Clara, Clementine, and maybe even Boffy into gods that Tommy accidentally befriended along the way. I don’t have any idea what kind of gods Bitzel or Luke should be but I like the idea of Wisp having something to do with death, rebirth, and second chances. Boffy has to have some kind of link with lightning and destruction because it’s Boffy and we all know what he’s done with that blaze rod. Clara is obviously the god of space and the void. Clementine I actually had a really cool idea for. She’s a flaming moth god and one of the two gods who holds the most control of the nether (Deo being the other.) Clara is the main god of the end and the overworld is in a constant state of fluxing control since there are significantly more gods who want to be associated with rulership of it. Very few gods want control over the void so few challenge Clara and the few who do leave terrified. There are a couple war gods who live in the nether but since Deo and Clementine work together nothing can really overthrow them. Dream is younger than the group of gods associated with Tommy but older than a lot of other gods. He’s working his way up to control of the overworld but that currently still belongs to an unknown gods simply named Prime who never shows itself.

And of course because it’s my brand, at one point all of the gods became so worried over the idea of Tommy dying they made him a phoenix. That way he wouldn’t die unless he chose to, decides he’s ready for his next life. They were still worried though. Sure they were Tommy’s friends, but he had other friends and family that he’d lose being immortal. They realized that one day he’d eventually chose to make his current life the last one. None of them could handle the thought though, they didn’t want to loose him. So then they went the extra mile to ensure that Tommy’s soul would always be semi bound to them and he’d be a phoenix in all of his reincarnations (with the ability to access the memories of his prior reincarnation if and only if he so chooses, which he usually does when he crosses paths with his god friends again). The important thing to remember is that they know Tommy doesn’t “belong” to them. He isn’t a pet, isn’t theirs, he belongs to himself alone. The bond isn’t an ownership thing. It’s more akin to a divine version of Tubbo and Tommy’s compasses. It’s just a way for him to always find his way back to them and vice versa. 

Speaking of which, at one point the gods gave him the ability to do something similar. Marking the souls of people he became specifically fond of so he could find them in future lifetimes. So far Tommy has only done this to four people. Techno, Phil, Wilbur, and obviously Tubbo. Tubbo was the first, that was a bond that was made in Tommy’s very first lifetime and the reason the other gods gave him the power in the first place. Techno, Phil, and Wilbur were all done in one go during the Antarctic Empire era because he decided he just really liked this family and would love to be apart of it again some day. Tubbo is someone he always remembers in every lifetime without fail and seeks out regardless. The kids are platonic soulmates, fight me.

Okay. This is evolving way past Blood God Deo. But dang it, we’re rolling with it. 

Maybe each SMP/server is a different reincarnation of Tommy. That’s also why the sbi family dynamic is murky. Phil and Techno are immortals, not gods or even phoenixes per se but they can’t died under normal circumstances. Wilbur and presumably Tommy in their eyes were not. During the Antarctic Empire era it was easy to tell that Wilbur hadn’t inherited the same immortality that his twin brother had from their father. They couldn’t tell when Tommy was born and it was a deeply ingrained part of his nature to hide his phoenix traits, so eventually they just assumed he wasn’t. Wilbur and Tommy eventually started their own countries (Tommy recruiting three other gods to help him kill god) and both eventually passed away while Techno and Phil continued on. Technically, the death of Wilbur and Tommy is what slowly started turning Techno from emperor to Anarchist. He blamed the countries his brothers ran both for killing them as well as shortening the amount of time he had with them.

Phil later adopted Tommy and Wilbur during the current Dream SMP because both were orphans and reminded Phil a startling degree of the first Tommy and Wilbur (hence why he even named them after the two.) Techno refused the dynamic because he was bitter over the fact that Phil was trying to “replace his brothers”.

Wilbur is a rare case where he reincarnated almost just the same and has some scant memories of his life as a prince of the Antarctic Empire. Tommy early on decided to recover all of his memories associated with his Antarctic family and treats Techno and Phil as such. Techno continued to reject “new” Tommy and “new” Wilbur as members of his family which caused a lot tension. Phil kept trying to repair his relationship with Techno while raising Wilbur and Tommy but Techno kept making him feel bad which led to the whole “Techno is the favorite situation”. Since Tommy decided to recover his memories he kind of gets why Techno feels the way he does but is also bitter since he is Techno’s Tommy, he just doesn’t know how to put that into words. It’s made worse by Corrupted Chat which being a creation of Dream that is actively trying to pin Tommy and Techno against one another. Lotta room in this AU for sbi hurt comfort. Don’t worry, eventually there’s a reveal. It just takes a while since Tommy has to be the one to do it or Dream has to out him as a phoenix first.

Maybe the whole Ghostbur situation is because as a phoenix Tommy has some control over the people around him who die. He can return lost lives using his feathers and considering the nature of the gods who adore him he can bring people back from the dead. Unfortunately Dream intercepted this and we got Ghostbur. Maybe later down the road as a plot point, Ghostbur existing somewhere between death and life could have access the memories locked in the deeper part of his soul that are associated with his past lives (as well as the Antarctic Empire) and he could be the one to do the reveal.

Then Dream goes overboard at some point (maybe he threatens to chop off Tommy’s wings or hurt one of his family members) and suddenly we end up with Protective God Deo kicking down Dream’s door.

[baladric]

Writing questions: 1, 8, 35 please :D

yay, thank u!!!!!! :3

writing ask

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

this is a fun question, bc honestly, i write in comic sans! i read a tweet at some point somewhere that was like "listen if you're having a hard time writing bc the words on the screen seem intimidating or you're taking things too seriously, write it in comic sans." bc it's like literally impossible to be wary of comic sans!! like it's become a joke font, yeah, but we kickstarted it bc it's so friendly! also it's good for dyslexia bc it's bottom heavy!

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

honestly if i'm not paying attention, i can end up writing entire things w/o dialogue just by accident. i really love writing heavy introspection-based character studies (which is... probably apparent ahaha), so would definitely choose to go dialogue-less if pressed. it'd probably go okay, though the piece would definitely be bite-sized.

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

god, there are writing rules? lmaooo, i'm not really sure!! i have no actual ~*Training*~ and i'm sort of allergic to reading non-fiction so i haven't consumed much writing about writing. the one thing i can think of is that i willfully push back against the socialized idea that flowery/purple prose is 1) "Women's Writing" and 2) less worthy than straight-forward, grounded writing styles. think faulkner, hemingway, twain—your typical all american white male authors.

when "on earth we're briefly gorgeous" really gained its stride and people started discussing it as the newest addition to the canon of Great American Literature™, ocean vuong had a lot to say about this exact thing. bc not only is his book structured after kishōtenketsu (a four-beat plot structure that originated in chinese as four-line traditional poetry, and which has spread to korea and japan; you have almost certainly encountered its usage before, bc it's the narrative structure hayao miyazaki employs) instead of the western 7-beat narrative—it's also non-linear and reads almost like a prose-poem. to have a book written by a vietnamese-american immigrant considered part of the american lit canon is huge in itself, but adding to that the fact that the novel was written in a prose style that has been looked down on by literary critics for decades (which involves a really funny amount of shitting on nabokov honestly, like y'all could fuckin Never, the dude was writing in his third language and he still wrote wildly evocative shit like "I am just winking happy thoughts into a little tiddle cup") is like!! huge.

so idk, i like to think i'm sticking it to the man (and my dad whoops) by being a trans man writing in prose that's heavy on sensory figurative language. also i have been told by english teachers past that i use too many em dashes, and to this i say Suck It, Nancy Streblow ;)

[soaps-mohawk]

sorry about the anons Rory🫂

if this gets answered and is on your blog, guys maybe you should scroll down for this woman to rest okay😭 it really does get annoying when you have to continuously repeat things

there should be a few masterlists below, or you can search it directly on her blog

also, maybe tone down on asking for spoilers, idk if you're still okay with recieving those Rory, but y'all we'll get to that point of the question being answered eventually

anyway, hope you're doing okay. please rest, maybe turn off notifs for Tumblr for a while if you need to?

Thank you, love.

Yeah, it is kind of annoying when it's constant questions that have already been answered on the lore masterlist or things that get talked about over and over on the blog. I know the lore masrerlists are long and there's a lot to go through, but I spent a long time last night reorganizing them to make them a bit easier to look through.

I don't mind people asking for spoilers for things that are going to happen, or theorizing about things because I get to use the gif. It's when people ask about things that have been touched on already in the fic. If you're a new reader, it's either already been talked about, or it's going to be.

I know everyone is anxious to get to the angst and the plot with the cameras, but we'll get there. We will. I didn't put it in the story for no reason. Things will start coming together as we get closer (which we are pretty close now) as to why it's taken so long. Trust me, I'd love to get there faster, but there's other things we have to focus on too that will be important later. I don't write things for no reason. Everything is for a reason and things will play out, I promise. I can tell the people who actually read and pay attention to details versus those that just read the words because I've been hinting at things since the beginning. A lot of things have been hinted at or mentioned or foreshadowed that have happened, or will.

I know a lot of people only come to my blog for the fic. Which, that's fine. But like...take the time to look around. I have a navigation post for a reason. It'll answer most of your questions and if it doesn't, then ask. I'm begging people to look first 😭 please for my sake and yours.

I did take a rest today. Ignored tumblr for a while and did some things I wanted to do.

[twokinkybeans]

Touch Me, Please [Starker Fic] Pt.3

Summary: Tony Stark has never told anyone that he’s still a virgin. He doesn’t want to sleep with people who only want him because of his outward persona. So instead, he hires an escort. Things get a little more heated than either of them had expected. Tags/Warnings: Escort!Peter, Virgin!Tony, nff, nsfw, sexual tension, teasing, Peter is 22, Tony is 53, oral sex, 69. Taglist: @starkerswonderland @staticwhispersinthedark @starkerprince @parkers-stark​ @bluestarker (let me know if you want to be added!)

Notes: I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S BEEN 2 MONTHS SINCE I POSTED FOR THIS I'M SO SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT Y'ALL!!! I come bearing good news though! This was supposed to have three parts, but the plot started living its own life and now we're definitely having a fourth part as well ehehehe. Hope y'all enjoy! -Kim

Read the fic here on AO3

Or click here to find the previous chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2

-

Peter knows he’s fucked. Absolutely, terribly, fucked.

And to be honest… Even that’s an understatement.

Peter clutches his coat tighter and fastens his pace. He’s snuck out of the enormous labyrinth that’s Tony’s home, and is now on his way to the bureau’s HQ. It’s still early in the morning, a little over 7 am, and Peter hopes to catch one of his managers before they start their meeting.

Peter made a grave mistake, and all he can do is spill it all out and pray that he can keep his job. He’s had unsafe sex with a customer. If there’s one thing that he should pay close attention to, it’s that. He never made a mistake like this before. However, with Tony, he completely threw his cool and composed sugar baby persona out the door; his mind lost to the wealthy man he only met last night. Tony may claim to be a virgin, which according to his eager yet sloppy techniques isn’t too hard to believe, but still. Peter shouldn’t have risked it.

He eyes the building in front of him and hesitates. He could just get a test done without his bosses knowing; play sick until he gets the results. But if they were to find out… He’d lose his job for sure. And contrary to popular belief, he’s not in the industry just for the money. He likes his career. 

In good faith, Peter steps forward and presses the doorbell.

-

Tony wakes up when a golden glow casts over his body. He smiles groggily. In his haze last night, he must’ve forgotten to close the curtains. He sighs and turns around, grabbing the sheets to tug them up a little higher. Slowly, the surroundings are getting to him. The distant sound of traffic rushing through the busy streets of NYC. The buzz of the elevator as it sweeps past his floor...

...and the complete lack of another human’s breath.

Tony swallows and his eyes flutter open. A harsh sting rips through his chest when he sees his bed is indeed empty.  “Peter?” He calls out, half-heartedly expecting an answer but not at all surprised when it stays dead silent.

-

It’s safe to say that the following days, Tony is in such a sour mood that his employees nearly cringe each time he walks across the room. He should’ve never hired an escort to have his first-ever sexual encounter with. The plan was destined to fail from the get-go, and it had. 

“Tony?”

Tony turns around to find Pepper standing in the doorway of his private office. Pepper has been his personal assistant for years now, and he is aware that he wouldn’t survive a single day without her skills in his company. She’s seen his worst more often than not - and she doesn’t deserve to be the one to take his anger - but Tony can’t help but glare. “What?” “Jeez, they were right. You’re a fucking asshole today.” Pepper says calmly and raises her eyebrows as she closes the door behind her. Tony can feel some of the tension fade from his posture and he casts his eyes down.

“What happened?” She proceeds to ask. Tony shrugs. How could he tell her? “I did something stupid.” “I figured as much.” The PA places a stack of files onto his desk and sits down in the chair opposite of him. “Personal troubles, or Stark Industries-related?” “Personal.” “Ah, good. That’s one less of a worry.”

Tony glares again, but this time it’s more playful. Pepper smirks. “Gotcha,” she hums, seemingly pleased with herself. “Now, tell me what happened.” “I can’t.” “I’m sure you can, it’s-” “It’s too embarrassing, Pep. Please, I gotta deal with this by myself.” Pepper raises her eyebrow at his words and leans onto the wooden surface.  “Then deal with it before you drag Stark Industries into whatever it is.” She shoves the stack of paper forward and smiles faintly. “After you deal with these, of course.”

“Of course.”

-

It’s late in the evening, and Tony swirls the whiskey around in his glass. He finished the work right before dinnertime and decided to take the rest of the night off.

Deal with it.

Tony snorts. How could he? Peter left. It’s plain and simple that the kid didn’t want to stay. His pretty, sweet words had been nothing but lies and deception, and Tony feels like a goddamn fool for falling for the act. Peter is an escort. Pleasing people, telling them what they want to hear, it’s his job. Tony can’t blame him. He only blames himself.

Yet, it doesn’t keep him from grabbing his phone and navigating towards the escort website. He sniffs once, finding his way to the catalog. It should be easy to find Peter. Right? Tony scrolls down the list and frowns when he hits the bottom of the page. Mmh. He scrolls back up and sits a little more upright when he can’t seem to find Peter’s picture. He taps the search bar and types in his name.

No results found.

In a wave of panic, Tony types out the bureau’s number to contact them and waits anxiously. He has no intention of bothering Peter ever again, but now that it seems he vanished, it makes him feel strangely panicked. As if every link he had to the boy is simply gone. As if nothing ever happened.

Except something did happen.

“Good evening, this is Eva. How may I help you?” “Uhmm- Hi. It’s Mr. Stark. I’m, eh, I’m looking to book Peter again? He was here last night?” “Oh, I’m terribly sorry to inform you, sir, but I’m afraid Peter is temporarily unavailable. I could put you on the waiting list for when he returns?” “Please.”

And like a stupid idiot, he disconnects straight after. He sniffs and lowers his phone. He wonders if he just made another mistake.

-

Peter sucks at his teeth, his foot restlessly tapping onto the floor. He looks at his scheduled bookings and stares at the one empty spot. There’s only one client left to call, but Peter doesn’t know if he should. After a long tirade, and thankfully, a negative STD test, he’s back in the game and good to go. But, if he couldn’t keep himself together last time… He’s not sure if it’d be professional to go back to Tony.

Sweet, innocent, handsome Tony.

“Hey,” Harley pokes his head past Peter’s shoulder and grins. “I see you’re free tonight. My pal Dave is throwing a party at the Frizzles. Wanna come?” Peter rolls his eyes at his coworker and grins. “And get Dave to hopelessly flirt with me again? No, thank you.” “Oh, come on!” Harley throws his hands into the air in desperation. “Dave is your type!” “He’s not,” Peter grumbles, nearly shuddering at the idea. “Good fella, but no, not for me. Y’know I’m into rich old classy dudes. Heck, so are you!” “Hey, no need to attack me.” Harley lowers his bum on the edge of Peter’s desk and cocks his head. “You barely ever have a night off. Don’t you wanna have some fun? I’ll try and keep Dave off your back.” “Well…” Peter sighs and stares back at the empty spot in his schedule.

“I actually have a client.” “What do you mean?” “It’s the last free spot, and I have one more client to secure a booking with me. I just…” Harley frowns, his face displaying a sudden seriousness. “Peter, did this client hurt you?” “What? No!” “Then why are you looking all gloomy at the mere thought of that one client? Is he- Did he force you to not use protection? Peter, we can have him blacklisted, and-” “It’s not at all like that, please Harls, I promise.” “Then tell me why the fuck you’re so strange about it. You’re never strange around clients. Fuck ‘em, get them hooked for more and tadaa, that’s a healthy clientele, it’s how you taught me.”

Peter groans out loud in frustration and shoves his chair back a little, trying to distance himself from the scribbled down phone number at his desk. “I like him!” “What?” “I… I like him. Dammit. He’s really fucking different than the rest of them. I’ve only slept with him once, but he’s got me hooked, not the other way around.” “Then why’d he call us again? Eva told me he sounded pretty nervous.”

Peter’s face loses all color when Harley’s words crash down on him, crumbling the reality he’d build around himself. “No, no Harley, don’t enable me on this one. It’s bad luck. I shouldn’t do it.” Peter scrunches his nose. “Tell Dave I’ll be at the party.”

Harley simply grins, his eyes glimmering mischievously as if there’s something only he knows and Peter doesn’t. “Sure thing.”

-

It’s been two weeks since the damned party. Peter doesn’t feel any better about himself. As expected, Dave had followed him around all evening. Harley, traitor he is, was nowhere to be found. In the end, Peter couldn’t take it anymore, and he straight up told Dave he wasn’t interested. Thank god the lad took it pretty well, but it doesn’t make Peter feel any less shitty about it.

Peter really should just focus on his job and put his mind away from both Dave and Tony. It’s for the best. He sighs and stares at the next appointment on his list. The name is hidden, a feature they have for clients who are high in on their privacy. Peter sighs and grabs his car keys to go to the appointment. 

-

Tony’s tapping his foot anxiously while he tries not to stare at the elevator. It’s needless to say he’s not doing a very good job at doing so. Peter’s going to be here again. Oh, God. Tony can’t shake the feeling that maybe he shouldn’t have accepted the booking when Peter’s coworker called him.

[wxnholy]

dream a little dream of me [lee hoseok]

warnings: none, slight angst, fluff

pairing: wonho x f!reader

request: none

plot: you stay up late to finish some work and hoseok manages to lure you back to bed (includes some kisses and touches here n there, nothing major)

a/n: i was just imagining wonho from that vid on his channel about his full day of work and he looks like the most magnificent cuddler,,i just couldn't help myself y'all sorry !!

hoseok loved you like you would never even know. the man was obsessed with your smile, the way you walked in his arm and talked to other people, the way your lips parted prettily when he kissed you, and how adorable you looked all cuddled up next to him when it was time for bed.

together, you were known for being quite the sleepers. hoseok was lighter than you were, often getting woken up by even the slightest shift in the bed, hence why you tried your absolute hardest not to move. but he mostly handled that himself, slinging his hand around your thigh to drape it over his waist and burying his head in your chest because you smelled absolutely heaven sent.

but he valued his rest more than anything, often taking naps if time permitted it even if he wasn't tired and most importantly, teaching you how to take them with him.

you were a workaholic. you were never tame unless your work was finished correctly and on time, and always found yourself in distress if it wasn't complete. hoseok never understood that about you, despising it ever since you two first started dating because whenever he begged to see you, you were busy at the computer. and if you weren't there, you were rummaging through paperwork or checking your email.

enough to make him nervous for you.

but he accepted that that was the way it had to be because at the end of the day, his drive and yours worked perfectly together. and you knew what was too much and when to sit back and relax. it helped when he'd come behind you and softly rub your back and kiss your shoulders, asking if you'd like him to cook dinner, or force you to take breaks so that you could sit on the couch and watch tv with him. it was the littlest things that reassured you.

but sometimes, there was serious work that needed to get done.

hoseok was in charge of dinner tonight, not only because it was his turn but because you were busy at the computer on a case that wasn't anywhere near completed. your law firm tried it's absolute best to give you work that acted in your favor sometimes, granting you breaks to spare. yet there were also the torturous weeks of sitting up during the ridiculous hours of the morning because someone needed your help.

and they knew they could count on you because you never rested until your clients were absolutely satisfied. you were special that way. hoseok loved that about you. you were a no nonsense kind of woman.

but he could admit to being just a little worried about how long you were sitting in the same chair since the afternoon. it was nearly eight o' clock and the thought of eating alone for the sixth time that week kind of broke him, but he knew he'd get his time with you because you'd have to come to bed at some point or another.

the man took his time in preparing the dinner that you liked best; a pasta dish with vodka sauce and a red glass of wine.

you continued to work through the hypnotizing scent of garlic and cheeses, noticing the way that your stomach growled but too busy to get up and go check on your boyfriend. your knee shook and by now, your back was starting to ache like nobody's business, but the way you were concentrated at the screen seemed to have dimmed any ounces of pain.

"baby," hoseok was quick to appear at the doorway with concern written all over his face, receiving only the quietest hum from you as your eyes remained fixed on the bright monitor at your desk. the man moved further into the office and caught how your eyebrows furrowed in concentration, typing like a mad woman before leaning against the edge of the desk to watch you.

you were still so beautiful to him.

even in the plain cotton of your shorts and a shirt, you had him hooked, and he thought it was a shame your firm had to be so hard on you. he missed you in more ways than one. by this time, the workload was consuming you, and yet he wanted you all to himself—lips clashed and all.

at the realization that you wouldn't stop your job for him, he grabbed your chin, forcing your eyes to his and seeming quite annoyed. "give me one good reason why i shouldn't put your boss six feet under the ground," you quickly smiled at him and pushed his hand away gently. "it isn't his fault, my love," you sounded exhausted, "this is my job," he let out a huff, clearly fed up with that excuse at this point even if he couldn't understand it.

yet he had it so much easier in comparison to you. he would go to work, come home, and have the rest of the day to himself. probably checking his email once or twice if he really, really felt like it. but the two of you were different. your jobs were different. and you would be lying if you claimed that you weren't at all jealous of the fact that he could come home and do whatever he wanted. but that was nothing to hold against him.

"yeah," hoseok muttered lowly, the dark look on his face telling you that he wasn't believing you or pleased with your state in the slightest. so you decided to prove it, finally standing from your office chair and grabbing him by the neck to pull him into a lengthy kiss that froze him. but he sunk into you as quickly as he regained his sense.

you had nearly forgotten how good his lips tasted after all this time, actually feeling relief from all the exhaustion and tension pent up in your little body. his arms wrapped around you in seconds, his warm, ready tongue meeting with yours as he locked your lips together for a second time.

you couldn't help smiling at him, sensing how needy he was feeling by the way he pulled your hips against him and sighed like he'd finally got what he wanted. but of course, he wanted more, growing disappointed the moment you pulled away, still holding him like a baby and watching him frown from the sudden lack of lip to lip contact. that twitch in his pants was slowly starting to bother him and what you granted was nothing less than a tease.

"this isn't fair," he muttered, dropping his head into the crook of your neck as you kissed his head gently.

"it's nothing we're not used to," the sigh he released just made you hold him tighter, "just give me a few more hours, hoseok. i'll come to bed with you, i promise. but let me work just a little bit more. trust me when i say that i'm almost done."

"but you're exhausted, y/n, i can tell," he countered before you kissed him again, smiling even though he was right. you did want to shut your eyes and fall into him. you did want to take his hand and follow him back into the kitchen to spend the rest of the night at his side and just be done. but you were strong. strong enough to say no even if your body was screaming otherwise.

"i'll be fine," you whispered beside his ear, your voice delicate and almost broken. but he trusted you enough to let you go—that you wouldn't work yourself to death because you had never, ever lied to him.

the grip around your body loosened as he straightened up and gave you a short nod, aiming not to waste any more of your time. he glanced at your full lips once more before brushing past your side to finish dinner, only to feel your cold hand taking his wrist on his way out. the touch made him spin around to look at you. but in truth, you just wanted to admire him. you blushed, realizing you deserved none of him.

"i love you," your hand tightened around his wrist as you spoke, basking in how relieved he looked as he took in the words; his favorite out of your mouth, even more than his own name.

"i love you more, y/n," you blushed again, pecking his lips sweetly before reluctantly slipping your hand from his wrist to return to your desk. the man's eyes remained on you for a while though, probably imagining how wonderful it would be if he could just take hold of something and make time stop just to kiss you again.

but he retreated, returning with a big plate of food and some wine to give you the energy to go on. you smiled beautifully at him as he tipped your head back to kiss you again, settling into the couch in the living room to catch up on all the shows you two couldn't watch together because you didn't have the time. he held a drink in his right hand, lightly circling the rim with his mind set on you and your lips, slowly feeling his body giving out as the night fell later and later.

the phone laying at his side read eleven o' clock at night, making it a full two hours since you two had last spoken to each other. he could see that you were still in the zone from when he came in to take your plate away earlier, asking about how much longer you'd be. but once again, you only promised that you'd be done soon.

so hoseok waited on you some more, fighting sleep to the best of his ability as midnight crept. he got another drink, and another, and another, until he realized that it was only making his exhaustion worse. to the point that staying awake felt practically impossible. so, he checked on you one more time, your eyes still glued to the screen though he didn't call for you this round. you weren't even paying attention to the time. he didn't need to guess to know that that was the truth.

but he didn't say anything.

he turned off all the lights in the house, made sure the doors were locked, washed the dishes, shut off the tv, and did everything either of you would've done on any normal night. though made sure to leave the light in your office on and the door open just a crack. he didn't tell you goodnight because that defeated the purpose. he couldn't fall asleep properly if you weren't beside him.

he attempted reading for a short while after showering and slipping some fresh sweats on but ended up drifting off within the first few chapters, comfortable as always in the bedsheets yet cold—which hoseok attributed to your absence, the lack of presence inevitably waking him up just a few hours later. the lamp at the bedside was still shining, and the clock below it read a bright 2:34 in the morning.

he grew pissed.

he tore the blanket off and stood from the bed, feeling even more cold air engulfing his body as he made his way over to your office for what felt like the millionth time that night. except now, he wasn't taking no for an answer. not anymore. this obviously wasn't healthy for you and if he could, he'd throw you over his shoulder and force you to come back to bed with him.

except the consequences would be movement. tons and tons of it because you'd be restless, thinking of all the outcomes of what a heap of incomplete work could do to you. and those were by far, the worst nights of his life. if you were coming to bed, you'd have to get there yourself. and hoseok hoped that the fuming expression on his face was enough to scare you into submission. normally, it's what did the trick.

hoseok quietly pushed the door back and saw you in the same exact position as before, slowly reaching over to flick off the light switch and almost sending you into a heart attack. your throat grew dry knowing the man was standing in the doorway probably furious with you because you had completely disregarded his wishes. "bedtime," he stated firmly as you sat in the dark, the monitor glowing against your skin and making you chew at your lip.

you glanced at the time in the corner and noticed the horrid hour, sulking in your chair and just for a second, thought of opening your mouth to speak. "i'm not asking this time," his statement had you quiet again. yet for some reason, you wouldn't listen. "i'm so close to being done," you whispered, practically pleading even if your eyes were burning and drained, probably even red.

"i don't care."

"hoseok–"

"i'm not repeating myself, y/n,"

you whimpered at how sore your joints were from sitting in your firm office chair all day, slowly dropping what you were doing and reluctantly pushing yourself away from the desk.

your boyfriend walked closer to you, whispering an apology against your ear and brushing a few strands of your hair away from your face to reveal the dark circles. "forgive me but i just can't handle seeing you like this," he carefully stated, kissing your head. "now go to our room. i'll be there in a second," you obeyed him this time without a second thought.

he straightened your work space and shut off your computer, saving whatever work you were trying to complete before finally feeling the pleasure of shutting the office door behind him, trailing back into the bedroom and doing the same. of course, you were a bit unsettled. not because of anything he did but because you hated when you couldn't finish something, understandably.

you tiredly glanced up at him from the bed, his cool skin soothing you instantly as he touched your face with the back of his fingers and kissed you. "tell me what you want," he continued to caress your cheek, hovering over your body and seeing how you beckoned towards the bathroom. and hoseok knew immediately what you meant.

he pecked your head again, gently laying you back against the sheets to go and get the bath ready for the both of you despite having already been clean. he dipped his hand in to make sure the water was warm enough for you and tested it over and over, using all your favorite soaps in order to make the bubbles. he delicately hoisted you into his strong arms and undressed you slowly, submerging you into the bath first before stripping and joining you in the water.

you fell into him in seconds, your nose pressed against the skin of his neck as he took his time in cleaning you off properly, dozing off quickly due to the warmth. he made sure to be especially gentle with the rag while kissing the crown of your head and listening to the way you breathed slow against his chest. like you were a child.

he kept mumbling apologies into your ear whenever he needed to move you, making his heart ache every time because whenever he rinsed you, you had no choice but to stay awake. to prevent you from getting cold, he wrapped you in a blanket and dried you promptly. he also allowed you to rest on the toilet and massaged the sorest parts of your body as he rubbed your favorite lavender lotion into your skin, kissing you even still.

after pulling one of his shirts over your head and helping you slip on some clean panties, you heard him whisper a 'you're all done' and carry you bridal style to the bed. the moment he finally set you down, it felt like your body sunk into a layer of clouds, growing a smile that hoseok could see as he got under the covers beside you. "thank you, hoseok," was all you could manage as you snuggled into his arms. though he began to hush you gently, wanting nothing more than for you to just sleep because you needed it.

"i love you so much," the last peck he landed to your temple almost had you in tears, bunching his shirt in your hands as you finally shut your eyes. more in love than you could say.

"i love you more, y/n," the lights went off and the rest after that was kind of a blur.

"dream about me," he muttered, smiling against your hair and feeling your heartbeat sync with his.

"always."

[natural-hazard]

Language games and "why do you care?"

epistemic status: wailing and gnashing of teeth The sexual tension between the terms "pragmatic" and "meaningful". We've leaned towards using pragmatic more, I believe because Spendo and Crispith love them some William James. The thing that underlies both of them is this sense of hooking in to what matters to you. I could do without the word "pragmatic"s association with a particular narrow view of what can matter ("his head was in the clouds, he had all these big ideas but no pragmatic inclinations"). I bemoan "meaningful" and "meaning"s rumored (big if true!) association with, well.... "meaningless shit that doesn't connect to real humans, and is something that people play act at". Pragmatic evokes imagery of my "no-nonsense" grandpa who worked at a glass manufacturing plant his whole life and always focused on providing for his family. Meaningful evokes my artsy-fartsy sister who's desperately trying to escape the capitalist machine by trying to become a shaman in Ecuador. Take David Chapman's post (but give it back when you're done, the internet runs out after a while) Meaningful Perception. From our point of view it could just as easily be called "Pragmatic Perception". The structure of how you perceive is shaped by the structure of how you care. When we talk about pragmatic classification systems, though I defs expect lumber-jacks to be more like my grandpa than my sister, we're tapping into the sense in which classification systems are made by people who care about stuff, and are using the classification systems to get more hooks into interacting with what they care about. As it has been, and as it shall be, talking about care can spawn plenty of strife. Because I'm not referencing the things that your self-concept or your Narrative Self (explanation needed, not forthcoming, life's cruel ain't it?) say that you care about. I don't care about what other people think of me... except, of course for all the ways that I do. Having a self-image defined via negative traits (I'm not this, I'm not that) involves paying just as much attention to how others asses you as for positive ones.

"How can you not care?!"

Sometimes it's shouted in a tone of self-righteous indignation. Sometimes it's blurted out in a confused state of reality-shock. Sometimes it comes out as barely more than a whisper, a quiet spell soaked in sadness trying to magik reality into being other than it is. Hypothetical: you and your friends have a little group where y'all get together and talk about movies. Old and new, low brow and high brow, anything that's been on a screen. You gain a reputation in your broader social network as The Movie Folk, ones who are wise in the ways of film, those of nuanced takes and discerning gaze. One day, you find out your friend Ihsmael (it's always an Ihsmael isn't it?), who by the way is one of the more respected and venerated critics in your group, has never watched any of the films you all talk about. He watched a few movies growing up, but decided he doesn't actually enjoy watching films that much and hasn't seen any since he was 8. I can image one who has righteous indignation. WTF Ishmael? The rest of us have been putting in the work for years, and you've just been reading the plot on wikipedia and mashing up takes you found on the obscure and weirdly high quality forum that no one else happened to know? You've cheated! You're a sham! You don't deserve all the adoration you get for your hot takes, I demand you immediately refund everyone who ever gave you social capital! I can imagine one who's brain momentarily glitches as they try to understand how the fuck this is even possible. Why... have you been hanging out in our explicitly movie centric friend crew for multiple years when you don't watch films? The reality-shock alternates between "this makes so little sense I most be missing something" and the existential horror of realizing another human can look at the art you prize most and only care about a minuscule superficial aspect of it (critiquing with friends). Maybe you don't see them as committing status fraud, but you can't help but think that they live in a small sad world, content with only shadows of the real. ---------------------------- Variation in what people care about is fine. Not everyone needs to love A Serious Man as much as me. What's tragic is when I see systematic forces attempting to destroy ways of caring. In one of my favorite blog posts on the internet, Ben Hoffman talks about such an experience when trying to share with a friend a new technique he learned called Goal Factoring (pick some goal you have, see if it's actually you trying to get a few different things which are actually separable as in you could satisfy each of them better by trying to achieve them in different ways)

Naturally, I wanted to share this with others. When I got back home to DC, I tried to teach goal factoring to the Less Wrong meetup there. One participant told me that they'd had a hard time engaging, because their experience with any exercise around explicitly describing goals pattern-matched to things they'd been forced to do in school. For instance, they described an exercise they'd been forced to do at the beginning of the school year. The first step was to list a goal for the year (usually for that particular class), and the next steps were about figuring out how they'd accomplish that goal. They didn't really have specific goals in mind, so they had to make something up. Usually something that they imagined the teacher might approve of. They had effectively been trained to think of reasoning explicitly about goals as something where you have to follow someone else's rules, and has little to do with getting what you actually want. It should be easy to see how this might poison the whole thing. If someone's had enough experiences like that, where something that sort of looks like explicitly reasoning about goals is forced on them in nonsense ways, they might be ruined for goal factoring – and for many other things.

This breaks my heart. The particular connection to the particular technique that is goal factoring isn't important. But the fact that a person's interaction with the school system has effectively poisoned their ability to apply the entirety of their mind the timeless question "what do I see as the good life, and how shall I pursue it?" Many moons ago, in highschool, I suggested to a group that we get gyros, which I pronounced "j-eye-rows". Some nasally voiced twerp "ummmmm AKTUALLY it's pronounced 'year-ohs'". "Great", I thought to myself, "I will now never in my life ever pronounce it the way this fucko just suggested." Many. Such. ✨Cases✨. Schools at their worst (and also at their medium) act as 12 year programs who's end result is smashing one's ability to genuinely care about huge swathes of reality. ----------------------------- Which takes us back to language games (what, you don't remember us ever being at language games? Pal, we've always been at language games). I need to go to work now, so you figure out the connection. It's something like: language games fight each other. Language games have macro-structure (The Situation you are in and it's logic) and micro-structure (how do words actually combine to mean anything?). When people care about vastly different things, it changes the relationship between macro and micro structure of a language game. Two apsie nerds discussing trains is a language game that has a macro-structure, but it's less salient than the specific details they're conveying to each other via highly systematic micro-structure. Two dudes hurling insults at each other in a bar, The Situation screens off other details. The macro screens off the micro. The point of an insult is that it peforms the Insult Move in A Situation. It doesn't matter to much if I call your dad an ass-hat or your mom a cuck. The meaning of the micro is used to understand the move in the macro, and is then unimportant (except via contributing to a certain aesthetic quality and intensity to the macro move). Some macro-structures want to destroy micro-structures that I care a lot about. I aim to do something about this.

[coconutshvings]

ATZ Reaction:Giving him a Promise Ring {Hyung Line}

∵ Group || Ateez

∵ Genre || Fluff

∵ Warnings || Some are shorter than others

- I'm Semi Back My lovelies ♡ ! This just came to me ~ WR:Le

Plot// After a period of time you decided to express your love to him in a way that spoke more than a thousand words of love, it was the perfect gift being the period of time you'd been together with one another, something you felt was to seal the promises you've made through out your long love. It was an item not to be given lightly or carelessly nor would you, for he was the surest thing to come unexpectedly into your life, someone you weren't willing to even consider of slight thought of letting go of. The better half that you didn't even know could fit you.

You waited til you were able to have his attention, his time for you, to give him this beautifully sentimental Gift and his reaction? Quite priceless . You sat practically binded by hip on the couch as he was oddly fascinated by your hair, "The texture feels different." You tried not to let his cuteness get to you, you wanted this to be as serious yet romantic as possible all while being in a comfortable setting .

You slowly reached up sliding your hand from his elbow to his wrist slightly gripping it to bring it down to his lap. He noticed this action with his eyes mirroring yours as they stayed in contact you could tell he was now very curious- and a bit nervous. You looked to his wrist that rested in your hand gently letting go of it and gliding your own hand so that it rested on the back of his before gently turning it to see his palm face up.

You used your other hand to caress his fingers, smiling at them, they'd brought you so much happiness in the purest of ways, when they intertwined with yours, when they helped you wash your hair or anything , so much they had done and you thought you could pay this back at least. You didn't feel obligated but you just wanted to. You brought his hands wistfully up to your lips placing a rich, soft , kiss to his middle and ring finger.

He hummed delighted yet shy because of the affection, "Y/n," he called in a gentle voice you laid his hand in your lap as you looked into his eyes "is there anything on your mind?" Your eyes searched his to see if there was any sign of him being wisked off onto another subject any time soon but all you could see was that he was fully sighted on you. "Yes," you admitted doing your very best to not indicate any nervousness that you felt because there was a chance that he may reject this gift you wanted to him to have but if you knew him like you thought you did, those chances were very slim to none.

"I want to give you something, a token to say I love you, one that you can take with you everywhere." His eyes lit up with Joy and curiosity which was more than a good sign, you reached over to the coffee table going into the antique Marble box and pulling out an even smaller box but velvet exterior covered it. His eyes followed your hands and this time around you couldn't read his expression through his orbs. More nervousness clouded your stomach but he'd already seen the box and to maniacally snatch it back would be an even bigger fail. It was time to go in.

His eyes were trained on the medium sized box positioned in the palm of your hand, surely he'd seen boxes shaped like that before whether on TV or in real life but the question was, what were you doing with one. Not that he'd be upset with whatever you gave him that was inside, he just didn't know you felt so strongly or had a hunch that you did but wanted to wait til you voiced it.

His eyes darted to yours careful and soft at the same time, You opened the box without breaking eye contact with him, he'd seen something shine though he was looking at you. He then focused on the box, "It's a promise Ring." You announced. He slightly jumped not knowing which way to react positively, should he jump or Scream?

"A promise ring, " he repeated your words looking at you with his famous pearly white smile melting away all your worry.

Hongjoong:

"Joong, " you called to him , "A promise ring," he whispered happily. "I love it. May I put it on?" He enthusiastically asked you nodded just as excited before you grasped the gift between your fingers with your other hand before putting the box down with the one that held it in your palm. You gently rested his palm on yours as he straightened his finger in order for you to put the band on. Once on he looked at it like a rare beautiful artifact. "I promise you'll have one soon as well, I'll cherish this fully. I love you." He raved before gently pulling you into a hug.

Seonghwa:

His mouth was agap widely , "That- You want- Hey, I thought you were proposing." He stumbled slightly feeling a bit sad that you weren't actually getting engaged in this moment. You stifflled many giggles before patting his cheek softly then leaning in for a small kiss that still made your heart to cartwheels because it was with him. "Much later when things have calmed down for you but for now, let this ring seal our love, deal?" You bargained he looked at the ring in the box then back to you, "You've definitely got a deal." He sassily lifted his hand and wiggled his ring finger playfully allowing you to take it from the box and put it on his finger.

Yunho:

Like a kid on Christmas day opening the best gift you could give him possible, his heart sped up more beats than he could count, "Baby, you're amazing, but I can't take this, I didn't get you one or a gift at all." His tone slightly dropped you Shook your head grabbing his hand after taking the ring from it's box and placing it on his Finger.

"You excepting this will do enough as a gift for me, so, may I put it on your finger." He was hesitant not because he didn't want it but because he really wish he had gotten you something and you could see it, "Hey," you said resting a hand on his shoulder causing him to look into your eyes and see his wounded inner puppy

"you didn't know I was getting this for you. I don't expect much in return anyway but for all our promises to each other to be sealed with this for now until we're ready for something bigger, so wear it?" Your eyes were hopeful and he could Deny you no further. "Of course I'll wear it, baby." You smiled sliding it onto his finger, both of you admiring how it looked, he couldn't stop thanking you and telling you he loved you or admired you.

Y'all probably think I'm Yunho biased after reading this one, the answer is; not at all.

Yeosang:

He was reacting better that you'd expected, you thought he'd be a nervous wreck but he actually looked as if you'd given the world rarest drone that only had few left in the world, a prize winning reaction. You could see that he was trying to form words but was barren. He looked to you with shining eyes like the brighest were in them, "I don't know what to say." His voice indicated that he was memorized by your gift, "Say you love it then put it on?" You questioned sheepishly.

A grin took over his lips as he looked back to the ring you now held in your fingers. He removed himself from the couch placing his knees beneath him as cushion so he sat infront of you on the floor , he placed his hands softly against your knees slightly rubbing them looking up at you while you looked down to him.

"I love you, and I promise to wear this ring everyday from now on." You were somehow starting to become nervous and bashful so you decided to crack a little joke to calm yourself, "Now I get a taste of how you'll be when one of us proposes to the other." You slightly chuckled. Yeosang's curious as turned into delight at your humor, he knew he made you nervous.

He took the ring delicately from your grasp and placed it on his finger looking at it before looking back to you. "Well yes," he began but before he finished he lifted himself to kiss your nose before settling back into his seated position "but I'll be the one proposing and it'll be an even bigger one." He stated smiling softly.

I am Yeosang Biased, confirmed

[bing-fucker]

Plot twist, Remus was amping up his annoyingness and grossness just so when Anti is all fed up and says "UGH IS THERE ANYTHING THAT WILL GET YOU TO SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE" Remus can then say "lemme fuck you and I'll shut up for the rest of the day". It was all part of his master plan to get at Anti's twink ass

Remus is an evil master mind and I love him for it. Also, I'm using this ask to write it because y'all have given me far too many ideas for this, and if I have to suffer with my thoughts, so do you. Also, just for Hearts Anon, I did mention Anti bottoming for Dark. So there.

Also, I can't add read more links on my phone, so I'm sorry.

Warnings: Remus being Remus, mentions of wound-fucking and blood play, Anti's throat wound, mentions of suicide, dildos used as gags, use of the term "glitch bitch" in a sexual context, Remus licks Anti's throat slit. Ask me to add as necessary!

Meeting the Sides was supposed to be exciting! It was supposed to be fun and cool, because the Sides were new and it was fun to meet new people. Schneep had immediately latched onto Logan, and the two were talking about math so quickly that Anti wasn't even sure they were speaking English (he did, actually, hear some German words occasionally). Marvin and Jackie had both quickly been dragged off by Roman, Chase was speaking to Patton and Deceit, and JJ awkwardly teaching Virgil some Sign.

Which left Anti, who would have much rather been left alone. Unfortunately, however, Anti was not alone. No, instead, Anti had been annoyed all day by one Duke Remus Sanders. Remus was, to put it simply, fascinated by Anti. And, specifically, Anti's neck wound. Anti had attempted to escape him by going outside, but that just got him followed.

"Hey, if someone fucked your throat wound, would it be, like, deep-deep throating?" Remus asked, looking around the backyard of the Sides' house. "Or! Or! If you sucked someone's dick, could it go through the slit?" Remus looked back at Anti, who was sitting on the porch steps, looking exhausted. Remus leaned closer to Anti and poked his throat wound.

"Don't feckin' do that, you eejit!" Anti exclaimed, slapping Remus' hand away. "It isn't all the way cut through, dumbass, that isn't how biology works!"

"Have you tried it?" Remus asked, cocking his head curiously.

"No!"

"Then how do you know?"

"Because I'm not feckin' decapitated, this isn't just a hole in my throat!" Anti groaned and stood, stomping back into the house. It had been like this for the five hours that him and the others were visiting the Sides, and he was very close to taking Dark's advice and trying to kill himself again. Or maybe killing Remus. Either were ideas that would work.

Anti stomped into the living room, where most of the others were gathered. Remus followed behind him quickly, rambling on about something Anti wasn't paying attention to and never had been.

"Oh, for feck's sake!" Anti exclaimed, stopping and turning to look at Remus, who stilled and cocked his head curiously. "What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone!?"

Remus grinned wide. "Let me fuck you and I'll leave you alone for the rest of the day." Anti heard the very distinct sound of Schneep cursing in surprise, and even a surprised laugh from Chase.

"Are you serious?" Anti asked, glaring at Remus.

"Deadly so," Remus agreed, grinning wider.

Anti glared harder. Was it worth it? The average man lasted three to ten minutes, to be fair. So it was three to ten minutes of Anti's life for hours of piece. "Fine," he said, drawing more surprised curses and laughs from Henrik and Chase. "But you don't touch my neck."

Remus looked shocked for a second, then grinned and grabbed Anti's hand, quickly sinking down and subsequently dragging the glitch out of the living room and into Remus' room. Anti looked around the room, glitching in annoyance.

"Wow. Great decorating skills," he said sarcastically. Remus' room was dark, messy, and probably a health hazard.

"Thank you!" Remus replied, seemingly mistaking Anti's sarcasm for genuine admiration.

"Yeah, whatever." Anti sighed and turned back towards Remus, opening his mouth to say something else. However his words were quickly cut off by the duke crashing his lips against Anti's. Anti yelped into the kiss, fumbling with his hands hand a second before settling them on Remus' hips.

"Jaysus feck!" Anti exclaimed, pulling away from the kiss briefly. "Warn a guy!"

"I thought the whole 'let me fuck you and I'll leave you alone' bit worked as a warning," Remus replied, moving to kiss at Anti's throat and frowning when he remembered. "How am I supposed to do foreplay if I can't mark your throat!?"

"Try taking off my shirt, asshole," Anti replied, pushing Remus away and pulling his shirt off. "There are other places to mark someone!"

"Works for me," Remus replied, quickly taking off his own shirt and shoving Anti onto the bed.

"Ask me to do things, don't just shove me!" Anti hissed, glitching slightly as he arranged himself on the bed.

"That's boring," Remus replied, straddling Anti's thighs and quickly setting to work marking up the glitch's shoulders and collarbones. "Hey, is it going to bleed? Like, while I'm fucking you?"

"You're feckin' disgusting," Anti replied, voice glitching into a soft moan when Remus licked around his nipple.

Remus didn't respond, only ground against Anti's thigh lightly. Anti winced slightly, suddenly very much reminded that the only time he'd bottomed before was when losing a fight to Dark- and Remus was shaping up to be quite a bit rougher than Dark.

"You hump like a wild animal," Anti hissed, holding back a sound as he shifted beneath Remus and was reminded of his own cock, straining in too-tight skinny jeans.

"Yes, well, it's one of my charms," Remus responded, sitting back slightly to admire the mass of dark bruises he'd left littering Anti's shoulders, chest, and collarbones. Anti glared weakly up at him, earning a sigh. "Are you going to glare the entire time?"

"Until you do something that's worth me not, yes," Anti replied.

Remus shrugged and climbed off of Anti, roughling yanking the glitch's jeans and boxers off in one smooth motion. Anti yelped, gripping Remus' hair as the duke lifted his legs in the air and pressed his face right against Anti's entrance.

"What is with you not warning people!?" Anti exclaimed, blushing and staring down at Remus in shock. Remus just shrugged and licked around Anti's hole wetly, drawing a startled moan from the glitch.

"Y-you're doing horribly," Anti commented, words falsified by the high-pitched, glitching moans he gave as Remus ate him out.

"You say that," Remus replied, pulling back slightly. "And yet every other part of you disagrees." As if to prove his point, he dragged his finger up the underside of Anti's achingly hard cock. Anti yelped, hips bucking up in response.

"See, look at that," Remus purred, snapping his fingers and locking Anti's legs into previously unseen stir-ups. He pulled away to undress himself. "You seem so open for me. Pity your mouth can't quite shut up."

"What are you gonna do, gag me?" Anti replied, blushing brightly at the lewd position Remus had put him in.

"You know," Remus commented, standing and walking to a chest of drawers across the room. "That's not a half bad idea. Let's test something out." Anti craned his neck to try and see what Remus was doing, blushing more as he became more excited at the mystery.

"There we go," Remus purred, returning to Anti's side with something hidden behind his back. "Open wide, my dear glitch bitch." Anti rolled his eyes at the name, but opened his mouth obediently, silently justifying his obedience by saying it was for the sake of being left alone. Anti's eyes once again widened as Remus shoved a rather sizable dildo down his throat, reflexive tears almost immediately springing to his eyes as he glared at the duke.

"Well, that was disappointing," Remus observed. "You were right." Anti rolled his eyes as if to say 'Duh, of course I was'.

"Don't get snippy," Remus laughed, climbing back onto the bed and between Anti's lifted legs. "You look rather beautiful, you know. All spread out and silenced. I bet you'd look even prettier with your lips wrapped around a cock."

Anti blushed and moaned around the dildo in his throat at the praise, arching his back as Remus slowly pushed the head of his cock into him.

"Oh," Remus breathed, watching the demon beneath him as he pushed fully inside. "Somehow I didn't peg you as the praise type. Hah! Peg!" Anti rolled his eyes again, letting out a muffled moan as Remus angled his hips and pressed against Anti's prostate.

"You feel so good," Remus purred, waiting less than a minute for Anti to adjust before setting a punishing pace. "Better than I imagined." Anti's eyes fluttered closed as Remus continued, moaning desperately around the dildo down his throat.

"Fuck, you're hot," Remus praised, gently stroking Anti's cock as he fucked him. Anti moaned loudly, not even caring as Remus leaned down and licked along his wound. Anti whimpered and moaned desperately around his gag, bucking back against Remus' thrusts as he came far too quickly for his own liking.

"That's very cute," Remus grunted, thrusts becoming erratic and even rougher as he came close to his own orgasm. "How quickly you came just from getting fucked. We should do this more often~" Anti didn't even have the coherancy to roll his eyes in response, or be disgusted when Remus came inside of him.

Remus pulled away with a soft laugh, licking his lips at the sight Anti made and staring for a few minutes. Eventually, he released Anti's legs from their stir-ups and pulled the dildo from the glitch's throat, impassively watching Anti gasp and choke for breath for a few seconds before offering a bottle of water.

"There we go," Remus laughed, getting dressed and tossing Anti his clothes. "That was fun wasn't it?"

"Ah!" Anti made a gesture for Remus to shut up when he was coherant enough to start getting dressed. "You said you'd leave me alone!"

"Does that have to start now?" Remus whined, watching Anti get dressed with a pout.

"Yes," Anti replied, pulling his shirt on. "Yes it does." With that, the glitch turned and stormed off, followed closely by the laughing duke.

Anti collapsed on the living room couch gratefully, looking forward to spending the rest of the visit in silence. Silence which he only got to enjoy for about ten minutes.

"Guys," Jackie said, voice soft. Anti groaned and looked away from his phone, looking at Jackie, who was now holding a sleeping Jameson, the youngest clinging to the hero like a koala. "Get your stuff, okay? We're gonna head home."

Anti stared in shock. He did all of that for ten minutes!? He could've put up with Remus for all that time! Not that he was too bothered about getting to fuck the other man, but still! It was the principle of it! Ten minutes!

"WHAT THE FUCK!?" Anti exclaimed, his loud voice joined by Schneep and Chase's loud laughter.

[justkpopjokes]

Nice to Meet You, Angel. || Demon!Joshua

Ft. Joshua/Jisoo(s Chri—actually no, the complete opposite)

Anon: Demon Joshua😏

A/N: This AU has gone through 4 whole plot rewrites rip. kinda inspired by Good Omens!! (also 2 aus in a week?? whaaaaaat)

!! This is a gender neutral!reader fluff with 1945 words~ !!

Before we begin the plot, lemme quickly go through the basics of the universe

yayy lin’s doing world building again

there are angels and demons in the universe, simply just the optional jobs of people’s souls once they die

if they choose this job, they don't remember much of their life on Earth, but they do remember events they associate w/strong emotions bc it helps them

for ex. an angel could remember how sad a death made them feel so they know to prevent it

and a demon can remember how angry a bully made them felt so they can make people that level angry

both angels & demons take the form of their bodies when they were alive and roam on Earth

they can also return to Heaven/Hell and observe Earth from their respective realms

also yes demons can be summoned, but lmao you can also just give em a phone call via incantation

the angel equivalent to this phone call is praying

demons can pretty much do anything as long as it relates somehow to the Seven Deadly Sins (pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, sloth)

angel powers are more holy/good, and they can grant things in prayers if they choose, etc

Anyway, YOU KNOW THIS BOI??

THiS bOi sHUa

he's chill af for a demon ok

one of the first demons so like no one really knows how he’s a demon bc he’s so polite

there’s some speculation that he was one of the first to fall but like

what the hell did he do???

But also some say he became a demon out of spite bc he saw a demon commit a “sin” that actually helped someone

so he became a demon just to help people in a more… unholy way

and then he was upset angels hated him just because he was a demon

like wow spirit discrimination

NOW YOU—

you are an angel (literally)

you’re the angel that protects like. atheists/"non-believers" bc c'mon just because they don’t believe in God/gods doesn’t mean they shouldn't have access to that protection service

(yes hello you’re calling APS, the Angel Protection Service sponsored by God, how may I help you?)

so yeah you’re pretty chill yourself since you have to constantly deal with people who don't believe in you lol

One fine day, you were listening to a prayer from a sick college student

ok it wasn't really a prayer but they were like "oh please, my god, let me get some sleep tonight"

you gladly put them to sleep and they slept soundly at night

when you checked on them the next morning, you noticed—

A dEmON?!?

…lying right next to the student (but above the covers, he has boundaries), who isn't stirring at all

if the leather jacket and ripped jeans didn't tip you off, he had some horns on his head to confirm ur suspicions

You: "Hey what in the world are you doing here?!"

???: "What? If they get up rn they won't be able to pay attention in class. I'm letting them rest first"

You: "Wha—who—okay, okay okay… who are you?"

"I’m Joshua, nice to meet you, angel"

Shua knows he has the name of an angel so afterwards he's like. Don't get it confused bish.

you ask him what he's doing, and basically, he's using the sin sloth on this sicko student so they stay in bed and recover instead of going to class

Even tho you feel iffy abt letting a demon affect a human right in front of you, an angel, you are a bit intrigued

you haven't seen a demon use their powers for good before…

who is this guy??

anyway he disappears, presumably to Hell, once the student needs to wake up

which is when u miracle them some bread to get

But don't worry, you're destined to meet again~

which you did, on several occasions

and ok maybe you were glad to talk to someone who was actually interesting

so, yknow,,, if another angel was like "hey y/n uhh there's a demon… bothering? someone? idk but it's a non-believer, that's ur jurisdiction right"

you had a guess on who this demon was…

…and you were right

Joshua: "Oh hey angel"

You: "Ew, you make it sound like a pet name"

JS: "Well I don't know your name, do I?"

You: "Oh. Right. It's Y/N."

he still calls you angel tho, smh that flirt

y'all just bicker and/or chat for a bit whenever u go help the same person

Like one time when he insisted that you let him use gluttony on a teen so they'd eat a lot of ice cream that day

they had just been through a bad break up so u let it slide

Or another time he used wrath on a timid kid so they could stand up to a bully

all of these ended w/you two bickering while walking away

There was this little girl you were watching from heaven who was writing a letter to "Whoever Can Do This"

little girl started listing a bunch of things, which you assumed were toys

but then you realized it was actually stuff like food, friends, a puppy, a loving dad who will go out to the park with her—

so u go down there to check on this lil child

…and that's when you see a familiar leather jacket watching over her and suggesting other things to write

you can’t see him from heaven so ur like gosh darn it I should’ve known

"Joshua?? I should've known it was—"

*cue both shua and the child turning around*

JS: "Oh hey, nice to see you, angel"

Lil' Nugget: *GASP* "Mr. Josh is this ur s/o???"

JS: "Hm? Oh, I mean, no, but um…"

You: "Josh what have u been putting into this one's head…"

Shua's all like "greed! Her dad's been ignoring her since her mom died so we're writing a list of things she wants"

then the smol girl smiles so wide and is like "Mr. Josh is helping me! He's my new friend!!"

ur like awww dangit ok I'll let it slide if u let me help

Once she finishes it, Josh hands the girl's list over to you

he explains quietly he wants you to miracle her dad to pay attention+love his daughter again so they can have/do all the other things on the list

you read it over again and do just that

The little girl gives the list to her father, your miracle allowing them to have a fun afternoon eating ice cream and playing with her toys

And you and Josh have a nice time too~

once y'all left that girl's room, he invited you for some soda

"Coke? I hope you mean Coca Cola"

"Yeah, uh, there's a place with a vending machine not too far from here. We can walk"

You don't spend time on Earth often, but you learn as you walk w/Josh that he "prefers the air up here"

mainly bc he doesn't fit in with the other demons, but he also just likes spending time with humans

(obviously tho he needs to go down to hell occasionally for like conferences and such)

you don't remember if you've ever been on a date before lol

Josh doesn't either, but he does remember how jumbled up ur emotions get, which he is not ready for

then again of course he has, I mean look at that charm

however, you can't remember if the feeling you get when going on ur little date with Shua is love :/

it isn’t really, but just bc this is ur first “date,” so it makes sense

But Josh makes sure to take you out again… for dinner!!!

you were investigating the use of lust and pride at the same time

of course, it was just Josh helping a guy find someone to hook up with

you were kinda disgusted and wanted to leave, so shua gladly took your arm and pulled you away to a restaurant!

y’all had a nice dinner, paying with some money Josh had collected

and then you went to walk together and chat some more

he’s breathtaking, and he actually wants to spend time with you despite y’all being on opposite sides of an inevitable war

You don’t care, going on more dates just to talk and not have to care about ur jobs and other stuff

Shua hears you yell “what the hell” at some point and he’s like woAH you can say that???

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not really polite, but I can. Can you say ‘Thank God?’”

“‘Thank God?’ Well look at that, I can. Good point”

you love him because he’s so chill and doesn’t give a f*** abt anything

except you and humans, apparently

like he could’ve burned or smth by saying “Thank God” or be confined to the basement of Hell for helping people/talking with you, but he doesn’t care lmao

However, no one really knows you’ve been talking with a demon tho so uhhh

when they do you get in a little bit of trouble w/the archangels

ur boss was essentially like “y/n what the HECK are you doing?!? you’re on thin ice rn”

you get mad at him, trying to defend Joshua

and you’re right in doing so, since he just wants to help people with a different set of powers

ur archangel boss sends you back down to Earth, saying you can’t return to Heaven until they work smth out

(they probably want to burn you with Hell fire)

You warn Josh, knowing they might burn you

he’s adamant on keeping you with him, so y’all try to hide or smth

which won’t work of course, but you can try, right?

right?

Shua and you sit together on a bench, with you leaning on his shoulder

“Joshua… I’m scared, I don’t want to be burned!”

“Don’t worry y/n, it’ll be okay. I love you, angel, nothing bad will happen”

and just like that, you remember what it feels like to love

“You’re right. I love you too. Help the non-believers for me if I go, alright?”

“I’ll help them just for you.”

Your archangel boss is smart, knowing the worst punishment for you is to be reincarnated without memories

you wouldn’t remember Joshua at all

and when he drags u back up to Heaven, you want to cry

do angels cry holy water? anyway

you’re sent back to Earth as a baby that can’t fend for itself

You remember nothing.

You’ve recently graduated from college and are out looking for a job

you’ve gotten rejected and fired so many times

for ex. just now, after you were arguing with someone who spoke another language that you didn’t know and there was no translator available

the customer wasn’t willing to cooperate either, ignoring your attempts to use an online translator smh

it’s late and you’re tired, so you leave, angry, and start coughing frantically when you inhale too much smoke coming from the alley next to you

naturally, you’re like “What the hell?! Dude, you’re not supposed to be smoking this close to an entrance!”

“Why do you care? You don’t work here anymore”

you take a better look at the stranger once he steps into the light of a nearby lamppost

it’s a dude in a leather jacket and ripped jeans who drops his cigarette

“Need help getting a job, y/n?”

“how do you—what—who are you?”

he extends a hand out to you, which you shake reluctantly

“I’m Joshua. Nice to meet you, angel.”